Caralissa's Conquest

by Reese Gabriel

  ‘Do you like that?’ the big man asked Caralissa, having stroked himself back to life. ‘You want more?’

  Caralissa bit her lip. ‘Just be quick about it,’ she pleaded. ‘For my sister’s sake.’

  The big man moved behind her. Without preamble he cleaved her buttocks, forcing himself into the narrower of her two channels.

  ‘Quick is his middle name,’ the other man grunted, his own loins being fully immersed in the sweet womanhood of Romila.

  ‘At least I get off in the end,’ the big man laughed good-naturedly.

  The jibes seemed to spur them both on. A few more minutes of sweating and grunting and they were done, both of them. Without saying another word they turned on their heels and left. The two girls stayed like that for a long time: silent, alone, suspended in chains with nothing to do but wait.

  ‘Just a while longer, Romila,’ Caralissa encouraged. ‘Just hold on and help will come. Just wait, Romila. Wait and see.’

  If her sister heard her, she wasn’t sure, but after a long time of sobbing Romila seemed to hang more peacefully in her bonds. Caralissa hoped she’d managed to fall asleep. Chances are it would be the only rest Romila would get for a long time to come. As for herself, she would bide her time. There was nothing Telos could do to her now that would shake her hope in Varik.

  ‘Let him come,’ she whispered, ‘let him come soon. And if he cannot come then at least allow me to go on believing he will. For if I cannot believe then surely I will die.’

  Caralissa knelt, her head to the marble floor, awaiting the arrival of the king. She was naked and it was his intention this morning to share her body with yet another company of his troops. This latest indignity was just one more heaped upon her by the poseur, the fraud Telos. It was three days since the conclusion of the trial. By Norod’s verdict, she was now a slave in the castle, while Romila was to be sold at auction to a pleasure-house. Her sister had fainted upon hearing her sentence, much to Telos’ delight. Personally, Caralissa would have preferred the pleasure-house; at least then she would be gone from this horrid place, and from the sight of the man she so despised.

  The new king, of course, was delighting in his victory. His usage of her body was almost constant and he allowed her only a few hours of rest each day. When not actually beneath him she was forced to endure spankings, whippings and long periods of bondage. In addition he employed castle guards and soldiers whom she was required to pleasure on a regular basis. It was reaching the point where her brief respites chained by the neck to the foot of the man’s bed were a comparative diversion, an opportunity for peace and quiet.

  Mostly during her ordeals she thought of Romila, distracting herself by trying to convey good thoughts to her sister. The two had been separated since their sentencing, and presumably the stoic Romila was long gone by now. Caralissa could only imagine what it was like for her; prayers on her behalf to the goddess were on her lips almost constantly. The only reassurance she felt - and this was small to be sure - was that her sister shared her blood and would therefore likely find pleasure in her treatment to at least a small degree.

  For her own part, she did her best to appear neither pleased nor displeased with what was done to her. Although she could not avoid screaming her pleasure when possessed, she did manage to restrain her temper at his cruelties such that Telos derived little satisfaction from owning her. She knew it was a fight he wanted, and therefore she vowed never to give it to him.

  Unable to hide his own emotions, Telos was growing more and more furious at her lack of defiance. She herself drew great joy seeing him so thoroughly confounded. Having a weak personality to begin with, it must have been eating Telos alive to see her so indifferent. In order to outwit her he devised trials to elicit what he hoped would be uncontrollable responses on her part. This morning, for example, she was to orally please twenty cavalry troops as they stood in a line.

  She heard their marching feet before she saw them. The boots tromped past her, each set representing yet another organ she must take between her lips. There was a trumpet’s sound, first to signal the closing of their ranks, the second to mark the arrival of the king. It was a great flourish, a cavalcade of nonsense that would have disgusted her father. Leave it to Telos to need to have his ego fed so lavishly.

  At long last the order was given and Caralissa went to work. Rising to her knees she went from man to man, inserting each to maximum depth, exerting upon them the sweetest pressure, allowing her mouth to be a dream of pleasure. There was no flavour to the men, no scent, for she blocked out such things now.

  It was a matter of sheer mathematics as she counted twenty shafts with their spurting hotness. Twenty times was her mouth breeched, twenty times did she induce a climax and drink it down. Telos observed everything, following her and calling her names the entire time, seeking to compound her shame. Afterwards he put her on her back, pressing his booted heel down on her stomach.

  ‘How much sperm is inside you, your majesty?’ he demanded, employing her former title to maximum effect.

  She gave no reply. Splayed as she was, her vagina soft and wet, her arousal thick in the air, what could she say? Using only his foot he made her orgasm then, her body spasming upon the floor. It was a degrading way to be had and naturally the sated soldiers were invited to stay on as witnesses.

  ‘Whore,’ he snarled at her, spitting upon her face when he was done. ‘Go now and kiss the feet of every one of those men. Thank them for using your whore’s mouth!’

  She considered correcting him, pointing out that she could not be a whore, as prostitutes receive payments for their sexual acts, while she received nothing, save her life and the incidental privilege of sleeping on his floor and eating occasional scraps of food from the hand of one or another of her possessors. There seemed however little point to making this distinction as it would only earn her a beating.

  ‘Yes, master,’ she told Telos. Upon hands and knees, crawling from man to man, she kissed and licked the boots of each, thanking them humbly.

  ‘Here, girl,’ Telos snapped his fingers when they were gone. Caralissa crawled to him, weak and weary. He told her she would now have to clean the floor, to remove the filth of her sexual antics. That they had sported with her on only a few square feet of space was of no import, Telos said. She would clean the entire floor, if it took her all day. And if she complained, well then there would be no need to give her a scrub brush, would there? Not when she could use her body as a cleaning implement.

  Telos waited, clearly hopeful he’d at last raised her unquenchable ire. Alas she disappointed him again. Putting her head to the floor, hair spread out about his feet, she replied, without an ounce of sarcasm, ‘If master wishes, this slave will clean the floor with her tongue or with her tits.’

  Her response seemed to silence him. Without another word he stormed off. A few moments later the steward arrived to inform her that she was to scrub not the small antechamber, but the very walls of the castle itself. Had she any emotion left she might have cried to see the thirty-foot high wall, craggy and filthy made of huge cut stones, and her alone, naked, in the hot sun, with only a small bucket of suds and a tiny brush. Could there be a more cruel or more futile task?

  She worked for the better part of an hour, with no end in sight. She’d done barely a fraction of the surface area by then, and her water was already so filthy she was accomplishing little more than the transport of dirt from one place to another. She was just as filthy, and covered in sweat as well. Clearly she would never make it. She would not, however, give him the satisfaction of abandoning her work. Never would he have an excuse either to punish her or to gloat over having reduced her to total failure. She was better than him and stronger, and she would prove it.

  Besides, Telos was a usurper, a tyrant, and such men always got their comeuppance, even though it might be slow in coming, even though it might take years of suffering on the par
t of their victims. However long, she would wait. And if death came first, then from beyond the grave she would still wait.

  ‘What takes you so long, my queen?’

  Caralissa stiffened. Telos was behind her, his sickening voice all too obvious in her ears. ‘Forgive me, master. This slave serves as best she is able,’ she replied, continuing her work.

  Telos placed his booted foot between the backs of her legs, forcing her to separate them. ‘You are the picture of obedience as usual,’ he observed. ‘Forgive me if I am suspicious of your motives.’

  ‘Slaves have no motives. No thoughts, no rights, no feelings either.’ She resisted the urge to shudder with revulsion as he poked his gloved finger into her open loins.

  ‘Spoken with true and humble devotion. But we both know better in your case, don’t we?’

  Caralissa heard the sound of leather slipping through the air. ‘I do not understand, master.’

  The belt struck her buttocks with surprising force. It was not like the whip, but still it was enough to make her wince.

  ‘Do not stop your work,’ Telos commanded.

  A second blow followed the first. Caralissa continued to scrub.

  ‘If you wish to,’ he offered, ‘you may cry out or beg for mercy.’

  She stooped to dip the brush in the water. ‘Master is generous.’

  ‘I am thinking of selling you, you know.’

  Caralissa maintained the rhythm of her scrubbing, rising on tiptoes to reach a particularly troublesome spot. ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes.’ He let the belt lightly touch her heated skin, allowing the leather to make contact with her legs and sex. ‘Does the prospect frighten you? The idea that some stranger would have total power over you, your very body and life, and that you would have no say even in how he looked or whether he was kind or anything?’

  She smiled grimly, knowing he was baiting her. ‘As master wishes.’

  Telos grabbed her waist. ‘I want to know what you think,’ he breathed hotly in her ear. ‘And I know ways to make you talk that don’t involve the whip or belt.’

  Caralissa drew a deep breath. It was true there was another way. But what he might obtain by it would mean nothing.

  ‘You have a delicious body, Caralissa,’ he observed, piercing her with his exposed cock. ‘It is a pleasure to own you.’

  ‘Yes, master,’ she sighed, pressing her breasts against the wet stones as he increased his pace.

  ‘Although I find your name a bit long now, a bit unwieldy for a slave. Have you any suggestions for a better one?’

  She shivered as he paused, the ridge of his cock pressing her clitoris. ‘No, master.’

  He shoved himself hard. ‘Hmm,’ he noted, ‘what did the Rashal chief call you? Or didn’t he give you a name while he was using you?’

  She shook her head. That was a secret. She couldn’t be made to reveal such a thing.

  ‘Tell me,’ Telos demanded, reaching round to seize her nipples in a way fraught with pleasure and pain. ‘Tell me now.’

  ‘Little Flame!’ she cried, her voice breaking apart.

  Telos snorted. ‘Little Flame? Well isn’t that sweet. Coming from a Rashal butcher. Personally, I prefer something simpler. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whimpered, miserable and broken, ‘master.’

  Telos made a suggestion for a name, as vulgar as it was coarse.

  Caralissa reddened. After this morning even she had to admit it was appropriate.

  ‘I’ll take your silence to be acquiescence. Actually, though, I think just plain ‘Cara’ might be good. Shorter, easier on the tongue. Yes, Cara it is.’

  She pictured him calling her that, shaming her with the diminutive of her own name, employing it as a mere slave appellation. ‘Please, master,’ she begged, ‘may I come?’

  Telos withdrew his stabbing shaft. ‘May who come?’

  ‘May Cara come,’ she corrected. ‘Please, master, Cara begs to come.’

  He watched her, noted her writhing, the helpless twitching motions of her back and buttocks. Deciding to torture her further, he said, ‘And why should the King of Orencia be bothered giving pleasure to a slave? Do you insult his majesty?’

  ‘No, master,’ she thrust her buttocks towards him. ‘The slave Cara begs the king to use her unworthy body, to shoot himself deep within her.’

  ‘Will the slave Cara be pleasing to me, then?’ he asked, as though she were some person entirely new to him.

  ‘Yes, oh yes. She is hot, majesty, and delicious, by your own words.’

  ‘Do not use my own words against me,’ he warned. ‘I shall be the judge of your quality. For now I command you to fall naked upon your belly.’

  Caralissa, now Cara, obeyed instantaneously, feverishly lowering her smooth stomach down onto the dirt as his feet. The surface of it was cool and gritty on her thighs and breasts and cheek.

  Telos fell upon her, reclaiming the channel only recently vacated. ‘Now,’ he hissed, finally feeling himself to have the upper hand. ‘Tell me what you really think of me. No more lies!’

  ‘I hate you,’ she wailed, unable to hold back the words. ‘I despise you.’

  ‘And yet I am within you; and you yourself begged for me to be there.’

  ‘Yes!’ she cried, hating herself far worse than him. ‘I have betrayed myself and my people both.’

  ‘But you need to be taken, do you not? Even on your belly, on the ground for all to see, with a man you hate, who makes you scrub your own castle, who reduces you to servitude, a man who prostitutes your body and that of your sister - even from such a one, you still need it.’

  ‘I do,’ she cried, the confession pouring forth from deep in her soul. ‘I am a slut, a woman who has lost her honour!’

  ‘Women have no honour,’ he corrected. ‘Women exist to please men and for no other purpose.’ He pressed her harder, pointedly. ‘This is what you are, Cara. For all your beauty and power and privilege, this is what you were made for. Admit it.’

  She grit her teeth, wincing. Yes, he was right, but it was not for him, but for Varik that she was made. It was to him she wished to yield; to him she desired to give her body and heart, to submit to his pleasure, his discipline, his incredible love. ‘Please,’ she gasped. ‘Please no more.’

  ‘No more?’ he fumed. ‘Do you reject your king?’

  Telos retracted his hips, making room enough to smack her buttocks with his bare hand. The blow was petty, but under her current circumstances the stinging contact was maddening. Her sweat-covered body filthy on the ground, she groaned low and deep. Twice more Telos repeated the procedure, interspersing the blows with long, mind-churning thrusts.

  Caralissa whimpered, mewling for her release, begging all over again for him to finish her off. She was beside herself, beyond reason. There was no limit now to what she’d promise to him, to what she’d offer to make of herself to achieve release. Thankfully Telos too seemed to be on the brink. His endless chatter ceased as he focused on his having of her. Pushing his hands onto the small of her back he positioned himself for his maximum pleasure. Liquid splashed her shoulder blades. She identified it as the man’s drool, running in a line from the corner of his mouth. He was muttering obscenities, blithering to some god or other. She could feel him swelling, readying himself to explode.

  She nearly fainted when it came, a rushing torrent down into her womb, her soft body cushioning him as he fell onto her, his energy dissipating. Without asking permission she climaxed with him, though hers was an act not of conquest but of utter abasement and submission, a perfect counterpoint to his own selfish grasping. Repulsed and desperate at the same time, Caralissa screamed and cried out, making clear to any in the vicinity that she was indeed Telos’ slave now, the slut of his loins.

  ‘You are improving,’ he said, with a final grunt, the insulting compliment de
livered along with a tongue slobbering of her ear. ‘It is too bad I am going to be selling you anyway.’

  She heard the words from deep within her cocoon. She could no longer care or react or move. Telos had won. Whatever reserve of strength was left, whatever pride, it was somewhere far away. Somewhere she would have to rediscover. In her dreams, perhaps, whenever they might resurface.

  She only prayed that her new master or masters, whoever they might be, would not discover them first and exploit them, chalking them up as part of her purchase price.

  ‘Clean me off,’ Telos commanded, compelling Caralissa to lick her own juices from his rapidly diminishing cock. Caralissa obeyed, though she knew it would only serve to arouse him again, thereby insuring her ongoing violation. What choice did she have? She was a slave now, no longer queen, no longer free.

  ‘That’s it,’ he encouraged as he swelled within her warm mouth. ‘Take it down take it all. It will be good practice for your auction tomorrow.’

  Caralissa moaned. He was going to sell her in front of strangers, to the highest bidder.

  ‘That’s right, my little slut. An auction. You and your sister both. Naked, completely naked.’ Telos reached between her legs, found her wet. ‘You like that, don’t you?’ he chortled.

  She shook her head vigorously but he only laughed all the harder, smearing the glistening evidence across her cheek.

  Caralissa closed her eyes, telling herself for the millionth time it was not her fault. She was not a slut; she was neither enjoying nor desiring her own conquest. She was being forced, being made to respond to mechanical impulses only.

  It was a lie, of course, but one she must perpetuate. How else could she endure, except that she pretended to still be a lady? Were she to truly accept the slavery of her heart and live it out there would be no hope left, no chance to ever again see the ones she loved, for Telos would have won, would have eliminated her spirit.