by Syra Bond
Dust flew up into Polydorus' face. He coughed and choked. He jumped down from the trap, his face red with anger. He cracked his whip in time with his furious cries. 'Halt! Halt! Halt!' he screeched. 'You have embarrassed me once tonight. I will tolerate no more insolence from you! My brother is right. I am too lenient. I am too kind!' The two pony-girls bowed their heads. Their heavy headdresses - one yellow, one red - described two wide curves in the flickering torchlight. They were exhausted. They could not calm down. They had been overrun and now were startled by the shock of seeing the ominous horse.
Polydorus grabbed both their bridles. He tugged angrily. They reared back, frightened by his outburst, hurt by the bits between their teeth. He pulled them back, intolerant of their seeming defiance, unconcerned about their pain and anxiety.
'You defy me once too often!' he screeched.
He drew their heads down. Their headdresses tipped forward heavily.
'On your knees! On your knees! On your knees!'
He pulled on the bridles. The trap moved forward. The shafts tipped. The extra weight made the terrified pony-girls gasp. Polydorus struggled to keep his grip on them. They started to panic. He shook them, trying to steady them, trying to bring them under control. They both whinnied and twisted. Each pulled against the other, each further startled by the movements of the other. They moved backwards and forwards. The shafts of the trap reared up and down. They were lifted off the ground as the trap tipped back, then bent over by the weight that bore down on them as it tipped forward. Polydorus grasped the ends of the shafts. He held onto the silver balls that crowned the curved hooks at the shafts' ends. He dropped his weight on them in a desperate effort to curb the trap's frantic bouncing, but could not control it. The two females were seized by a frenzy of fear and confusion. He tried to release them. He struggled with the rings on the back of their chest harnesses. He could not free them; the traces had become tangled in the shafts. He tried to pull the reins from their bridles. They had twisted around the backs of their heads and he could not untangle them. They both became hysterical.
Polydorus took out his knife and cut through some of the tangled traces. The girl with the yellow headdress fell forward, a tight knot of leather strapping still wrapping her in coils. The sudden movement of freedom frightened her more. She was driven into a giddy state of uncontrollable fear. Polydorus cut frantically at the other traces. He sheered them all, but the girl in the red headdress was so entangled in them, and they were so tightly twisted, that still she remained enmeshed in its snaking whorls. She threw herself about wildly. She thrashed from side to side. Suddenly the trap twisted up on one wheel and threatened to tip over. It pulled forward and trapped itself in the opening to a narrow alley that led from the square. Polydorus could not move it. The pony-girls began to scream.
He looked around for help. There was no one else in the square. He looked up onto the ramparts of the mighty walls. He saw the guards staring down.
'I need help!' he shouted. 'Come down here and help your lord, Polydorus!'
The guards looked at each other in consternation.
'My lord, we dare not. We are commanded to guard the city. We cannot leave our post for fear of our lives.'
Polydorus struggled with the bucking trap.
'Only King Priam and the gods themselves dare speak against your lord Polydorus. I order you to my aid. Do not incur my wrath. The outcome of defiance would be more than you dare imagine. Come down from the walls at once! Here! To my aid! To Polydorus' aid!'
The frightened guards hurried along the ramparts and climbed down the steep stone steps to the ground. They ran across the square into the neck of the narrow alley.
Eva watched through a crack in the boards of the horse's flank as the guards ran over to Polydorus. The sight of the pony-girls' panic inflamed her. The constriction of the tangled leather traces around their bodies, the tightness of the twisted reins around their heads, sent shivers of excitement through her tense body. She tightened her hold on the loop of Calliope's leash. She pulled against the collar around Calliope's neck. She could feel Calliope's rapid breathing through the taut leash. She pulled it tighter. She could feel the beating of Calliope's heart. She pushed her knee against Calliope's slender waist. She could feel the blood racing in Calliope's veins.
Eva pressed her face against the crack in the timbers and stared at the plight of the terrified pony-girls.
'Lord Polydorus, what can we do?'
'These defiant ponies have let me down. I invest in their training. I feed them and give them warm dry bedding. They feed from silver bowls. They are washed down and oiled each day. Look at their finery. Look at their beauty. But my kindness is wasted. That is the problem. I am too kind and wrestle with my conscience. I try to act with virtue. I am benevolence itself. But kindness does not lead to obedience. It is a sorry tale. I must punish them. They must learn that serving Polydorus is their only aim in life. They must learn not to take advantage of his kindness. It breaks my heart to do so but it is the only way.'
'Yes, lord. What can we do?'
'Bind them to the shafts. I want them to feel the pain of disobedience. I want them to know why they are being punished. I want them to suffer from the thing they need to serve. It is the trap itself that will form the framework of their punishment. And they will know who makes this demand upon them. It is the hand of Polydorus that will wield the tool of their suffering. Lift the first one. Bring her here. And hold the other. Do not let either of them free from the bonds that entwine them. The feel of the leather will remind them of their duty. They will learn to obey the reins that now encircle them. I will teach them that their response to the tension of the leather traces is what I demand. That their aim in life is to serve Polydorus, and nothing else. Here! Here!'
The guards took hold of the one with the yellow headdress. She pulled back in fear, unused to being handled by anyone except Polydorus, fearful of their grasping hands, their closeness.
Eva saw the look of panic on her face. She pressed her knee harder against Calliope's waist and tightened the lead in her hand.
'Tie her to the shaft. She will know the thing she has to serve before she knows the hand she must obey.'
They lifted the beautiful woman up. Her eyes were wide with terror. She had never been treated so roughly. The knotted reins were still tangled around her head. Several of them were pulled tightly across her face. One of them was stretched between her teeth. It dug into the sides of her mouth and indented her cheeks before running behind her head. Several pieces of the cut trace still led from the ring at the back of her chest harness. Two of them had become twisted and wrapped themselves around her breasts. The twists they plaited were tightened around one of her nipples, squeezing it agonisingly between their twining strands.
The guards held her above one of the shafts, face down, her head towards the trap, her buttocks towards the silver ball which topped off the curled hook at the end.
'Lace her to it!' shouted Polydorus. 'And make it tight. I do not want to see her able even to squirm. She will not avoid my punishment in any way.'
They placed her over the shaft. Her arms and legs hung down. Her face, contorted in the mesh of tangled leather, rested hard against the timber shaft. Her buttocks were high, taut and beautifully curved. The delightful oval of her sex, split by the delicious crack at its centre, no more than a hand's distance from the large silver ball that surmounted the bent hook.
Eva caressed Calliope. She ran her fingers down from her shoulders, into the curved dip of her back, and up onto her toned buttocks. She fondled them both, allowing her fingers to rest at their centre, before widening her stroke out across Calliope's right hip and down the side of her right thigh. Calliope moaned slightly, then started purring.
Eva stared through the crack in the timber boarding. She watched the guards strapping the pony-girl onto the shaft of the ornate trap. They drew some of the loose ends of the traces around her chest. They pulled her arms up until she
was grasping the shaft as she would a lover. They tied her thighs together so that the shaft was pinioned between the tops of her thighs. Her cunt pressed against it so that the crack at the centre was forced open.
'And now the other. They disobey as a pair. They shall suffer and learn as a pair!'
The one with the red headdress was still tangled to the traces that led to the trap. Her elbows were bound tightly at her back. Her hands thrashed about in panic. The guards pulled at her but could not free her. Seized with terror she twisted and turned against their grasping hands. She screamed out. One of them tried to cover her mouth with his palm. She bit him. He lashed out at her angrily. She kicked at him in blind panic.
'See how they act!' screamed Polydorus. 'That is how they bite my hand. The hand that feeds them. The hand that cares for them. Cut her free! Lash her to the shaft like her ally in this war of defiance they wage against me.'
The guard she had bitten took a knife from his belt. He held it in front of her face. She shrank back, frightened by the sight of the flashing metal. He let the blade dip towards her breasts. He held its point against her left nipple. She froze with fear. He pressed the sharp tip against the throbbing flesh. She winced with the pain. She bit her lip in anguish. She held her breath, but she could not stop her breasts rising and falling, and as they did, from one pressing rhythmically against the foreboding weapon.
Eva manoeuvred Calliope around so that her face was between her legs. Calliope looked up, her eyes wide, her pupils large and black. Eva pulled on the lead. Calliope opened her mouth and poked her tongue out. It was wet and full, its fleshy tip seeking the moist fruit which was so close.
The guard pulled the knife down onto the tangle of traces which wrapped around the woman's chest. He sliced the first.
Eva pulled Calliope's face closer. Calliope urged her tongue forward.
The guard sliced another of the bonding leather lashes. The woman twisted, fearful where the blade might go next. The leather trace fell free.
Eva pulled the leash tighter. Calliope's tongue licked out keenly, following the sweet aroma of Eva's beckoning flesh. Calliope dropped back against the lead, allowing it to tighten against the collar at her neck. She stared at the object of her desire - Eva's glistening cunt.
The guard sliced through the next trace. The woman fell back free. Others grabbed her. Even though she fought against them they quickly tied her onto the other shaft. Both of them lay, tightly bound and straddling the shafts, their faces pressed down against the wooden beam, their raised buttocks poised above the silver balls on the ornate hooks.
Polydorus took his whip in hand. He tested it. He threw its length back over his shoulder. He let it rest, as if allowing it to gather its strength, then pulled so it curled off the ground. He reached to its target. The looping curl followed his command. He snatched it back and, in its eagerness to obey, it snapped back so viciously its tip smoked with a harsh, cracking snarl.
Polydorus stood well back, facing the women's exposed buttocks.
'Raise the shafts. My whip is keen to find its prey.'
The guards lifted. The trap tipped back. The women were raised and flung forward until the back of the trap hit the ground and came to a stop. They both gasped, their heads now lower than their feet, as the shock of the sudden stop took their breath away.
Polydorus threw the whip back. He waited. The gasping breaths of the women echoed through the empty square. He brought the whip forward and released it at the one with the yellow headdress. The tip touched her buttocks, and as it made contact he grabbed it back. The tip cracked cruelly. It burned the woman's flesh, marking her, punishing her transgression against her powerful master. She tightened her buttocks in a pointless reaction. She sobbed in pain.
'Now lower it!'
The guards hung onto the shafts and brought them down. They hit the ground with a crash. The women jerked. They slipped slightly down them, their exposed buttocks coming a little closer to the silver balls attached to the curling hooks.
Eva heard them gasp as their bodies were stunned by the sudden shock of the shafts smacking on the ground. She pulled at the leash and felt the touch of Calliope's probing tongue.
'Again! I have only just started.'
The guards tipped the trap up again. This time it was the turn of the woman with the red headdress to feel the burning anger of the whip. She screeched. Again they pulled down on the shafts. Again they hit the ground with a thud. Again the women slid closer to the balls.
'Again!' demanded Polydorus.
The guards obeyed. The whip struck the woman with the yellow headdress. She jerked as it hit her exposed skin. A red welt appeared straight away. Again the shafts lowered, and as they hit the ground the silver balls touched the women's buttocks.
Calliope lapped at Eva's sex. She drew her tongue across its moist softness. She tasted its fragrant flavour. She savoured its delicious piquancy. She inhaled the delightful aroma and was drawn even closer by its inviting delectability.
Eva watched the cruel beating. Each crack of the whip excited her own passion. Each thud of the shafts on the ground fed her own desire. She watched the red welts spreading. She watched the silver balls first touching their buttocks, then pressing between them. As Polydorus reached a frenzy she saw the balls prising against the women's anuses, opening them, then entering. She watched the whip lashing out. She heard gasps as the shafts hit the ground. She watched them jerking, tightening with pain as the silver balls pushed deeper, the lengths of the hooks upon which they were placed the only regulator of their penetration.
The wooden horse stood as if silently on watch; the only guard protecting the city.
Unseen, and as if the cries of the women were a signal, the trap door in its belly dropped open. Achilles peered down. He saw Polydorus and the guards administering the unjust punishment in the alley alongside the square. They were no longer concerned about the horse. The way was clear.
A rope was let down. One of the naked women inside the horse slithered down it. When she reached the ground she moved aside as the next started her descent.
The women gathered silently beneath the belly of the horse. They stood in a cluster; naked, anxious, waiting for a command from Achilles.
His powerful arm signalled from above.
They ran silently towards the gates of the city. They hung onto the huge bolts. They strained with all their weight. The torchlight picked out the curves of their taut bodies as they laboured. They braced their feet against prominent features in the walls, or on the timberwork which made up the frame for the huge gates. They struggled to lever the mechanism apart. Slowly the bolts drew back. The first one freed. The women pulling on it dropped to the ground, exhausted. The second slid back; the women releasing it stood gasping for breath, too weary to even fall to the ground.
A ladder was lowered from the horse. Achilles climbed down. His men followed. They ran silently to the gates.
Eva looked down through the trap door. Her heart pounded. She licked her lips. She knew she must not hesitate. She felt the wetness of Calliope's tongue still at her sex. Her pent up excitement boiled inside. She was seized with it, filled with it, but she knew she could not release it. She eased the tension on the leash. Calliope pulled away.
Eva took a deep breath. 'We must leave. It is time.'
They both clambered down the ladder and ran off across the square.
Achilles and his men reached up and pulled on the heavy gates. First a crack appeared between them, then slowly they swung back. The Greek army stood outside. They had returned from Teredos during the night and brought their ships back up onto the beach. Fully armed they had crossed the plain and assembled silently beneath the walls of Troy. Now they stood in the opening left by the gaping gates - shadows of death in the iniquitous darkness of their hatred.
They saw Achilles before them. His long black hair streamed out behind him, glistening red like flames in the flickering torchlight. He raised his arm and pointed into the
city. A clamorous cry went up, and the Greek army surged behind him into the unguarded square.
Chryseis swung helplessly, upside down on the rope. She could see nothing through the hood pulled over her head. She breathed heavily. She did not know how long she had been there. She thought she'd heard Sappho's voice. Her heart thumped with excitement as she imagined her friend again. But the sound of her voice had passed and Chryseis was thrown again into the darkness of despondency.
She widened her eyes, staring into the blackness of the enveloping hood. Sounds filled her head - crying, moaning, sobbing. The world seemed in a terrible turmoil. She twisted her ankles against the rope. She felt slackness, some movement. She twisted again. Her ankles moved some more. Motivated by the thought of release she squirmed frantically. She felt herself coming free from the binding rope. One last effort and she fell to the ground.
She was stunned by the fall. She rolled about, confused. She tore the hood from her head. She blinked giddily in the light of lamps and torches. Other captives still hung from the beamed ceiling of the great room. She did not look back at them as she ran in panic. She chased down the covered walkway of Polydorus' palace, out through the gates. She ran towards the temple of Apollo, the only place she knew where sanctuary might be found.
The city was ablaze. Women were being dragged away naked and screaming by Greek soldiers taking their revenge for years of frustration on the beach at Troy. They were savage and ruthless. No woman was safe from their brutality. They tied them by the wrists and dragged them through the dusty streets by their ankles. There was no mercy for the inhabitants of the great city. There was screaming everywhere. It was as if the gods themselves had come down to earth to take revenge.
