‘You will take him to the hilt,’ ordered Marcellus, to further humiliate and torture her, ‘or I shall have every man relieve himself on your prone body.’
‘Please no, master.’ She squirmed, loosening herself as best she could so as not to risk being soiled by the slaves as punishment.
It was pleasant to see the girl’s discomfort, her dilemma, naturally wanting to please but finding herself pushed beyond her limits. Tesra had squirmed like this too, and she made the same little noises as he was using her. He missed the little slut more than he realized, but pushing the thought from his mind that he might never see her again, Marcellus pressed on.
‘To whom do you belong?’ he enquired.
‘To you,’ she moaned.
‘To all of us,’ he corrected, as the big man settled forward yet another inch.
‘Yes, master.’ She clawed helplessly at the stone beneath her fingers.
‘You will serve every one of us, and treat us each as the dragar himself.’
‘I shall, master.’
‘Are you hot, slave girl?’
‘My cunt burns,’ she confessed, eyes tightly shut.
‘You would like to be satisfied?’
‘Y-yes, master.’
Marcellus looked about the chamber. ‘Who holds the next lot?’
A smallish man, his nose showing signs of having been broken more than once, called out. ‘Here, sir, it is I.’
‘The mouth,’ said Marcellus to him, ‘is yours if you wish.’
The male slave did not need to be asked twice. Ambling forward with a limp, he produced a thick rod from under his tattered loincloth. ‘Kiss it,’ said the man, taking his place in front of the buggered slave girl who, pummeled as she was from behind, obeyed. ‘Mmm, that’s it, girlie, now lick it like it’s a real treat.’
She ran her tongue over him, preparing to worship her second cock for the night, though by no means her last. The man had little endurance and in moments he was shoving himself hard to the back of her throat, shivering. The slave, speared fore and aft, seemed contented now; her place in life, her training fulfilled. She was, if not born for this, then at least molded to it. The Talassians knew well their work of subjugation, Marcellus admitted this much. This little creature lived only for her masters, as their slut and whore, and he and his fellows were exploiting the fact well.
‘Behold,’ said he, as both men began one after another to release themselves inside the girl, ‘the beaten, prone body of Talassia herself. The naked form of her noble women, waiting to be plucked from the vine. By the blood in my veins,’ he raised a single fist, ‘I promise you we shall not die in this stinking place. Who is with me?’
‘I am,’ called one man, and then a moment later another, till every man with a voice was affirming his allegiance. They were risking alerting the guards, but it was a chance they must take.
‘It is settled then. In the meantime, who holds the next lots?’
Two more stepped forward, a spring in their steps, and licking their lips they took the places occupied by the others.
Looking directly at the slave girl, her mouth reoccupied, and now also her cunt, Marcellus said, ‘Remember your numbers, lads, for your second turns later on.’
The little slave beheld him with defeated eyes, liquid eyes, desirous eyes. She wanted him, Marcellus, king of prisoners, as a girl naturally wants the strongest in any group. And he would have her, but not till all the others, for he was a leader not merely a bully as had been Rodrigo.
Yes, he began to stroke himself in anticipation, he would enjoy with great satisfaction his turn with the girl, though he would be hard pressed not to think of another, one who by this time was quite possibly dead.
‘Care for her, Persistrata,’ said he to the goddess who had indirectly brought him here. ‘If she be alive deliver her into my hands, that I may fight for her. And,’ he added as an afterthought, beholding his cock in his hand, ‘forgive me yielding to my weaknesses as a man... again.’
The chamber was pure white, as had been the corridor leading to it. White, almost as pure as a cloud, or as the cliffs of her native island at dawn. Tesra, clothed in the ceremonial garb of the woman of pleasure, found it ironic that one with such a reputation for darkness as the Emperor Teradon should surround himself with this color of purity.
It was odd, too, the lack of windows or wall decorations anywhere in the circular, vaulted space. There was, upon the white marble floor no carpet, and in the corners not even so much as a stick of furniture or a speck of dust. For a split second she wondered if the dragar were not some sort of germophobe, or even insane.
‘Not insane,’ replied a voice, melodiously masculine, ‘but rather divine.’
The shackled, masked girl, her feet bare on the cold marble, tensed instantly. He was reading her thoughts.
‘That is correct,’ the voice indicated approvingly, as if she were a small child. ‘But that is what you are to me.’
What? A small child?
‘Yes... a little girl, a nestling, a kitten...’
She heard the footsteps behind her, precise clicks upon the marble, as from high-heeled shoes. A woman’s shoes? And where was the man coming from? The double doors had closed behind her upon entry and had not reopened.
A touch to her shoulder, feather light, made her scream. Though when she opened her mouth she had no voice. Just like in a nightmare, she thought. Turn. She must turn to see for herself. But then she would be staring him in the face... or was it an ‘it’?
‘Now you’re hurting my feelings.’
A figure, gold-masked like herself, a metal-hewn smile appeared in front of her face. Long tendrils, like insect whiskers, filaments, protruded ray-like from the top and sides of the facial covering. The eyes were slits; behind them something was moving, living, cold. Barely her height and slender, he - and it was a he after all - was dressed in white, a long gown like her own, some sort of gold shoes on his feet and many, many rings. Dazzling rings; gems with changing patterns; the glare concealing something.
A dagger... he holds a dagger. Smiling, he puts one hand light and soft on her shoulder, while the other hand, hard as iron, is lifting the knife. He is going to kill me, she thinks. But in this room, she wonders, are things really what they seem?
‘They are whatever you think them to be,’ replied the emperor, who was more than an emperor.
Tesra fell to the marble floor, stabbed, the blood running white from her body.
Chapter 11
The slave girl did not wish to leave the dungeon the next morning. The guards had never seen anything like it and as the naked blonde clung to the feet of Marcellus, he who had used her last and most richly of all, they regarded him with wariness, a new respect, mingled perhaps with fear. The prisoners all saw this, which was very good, because it put them one step closer to escape.
‘What is this, slut?’ the sergeant wanted to know. ‘Since when does a little cunt like you desire more punishment?’
‘I belong to them, master,’ said she, breathing heavily, breasts heaving, in the clutch of the guards, all thought of her own safety banished in the face of her bodily needs. ‘They have conquered me as no others... he has conquered me.’
‘Him?’ the sergeant pointed, amused. ‘Well, at least you have some discernment, for a slave.’
‘What do you mean, master?’
‘That is no ordinary dungeon scum,’ pointed the beefy, bearded jailer with his club, well worn from striking the backs of helpless louts. ‘That is none other than Marcellus, the brigand captain. He’s been the biggest thorn in the side of the navy for years. Not that the navy is worth much, if you ask me, compared to the army.’
‘Marcellus,’ breathed the slave girl, pronouncing upon her lips the name of the one who had conquered her as no other. ‘My master.�
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‘Take her away,’ the sergeant snorted, ‘and have this one flogged for insolence,’ he added as an afterthought.
The girl was crying out and fighting back, risking punishment all over again as they dragged her from the cell to take her back to her Talassian lords. Meanwhile, Marcellus was stretched across the rack and richly whipped, in plain view of the others.
‘This is your pirate king,’ the sergeant snarled, unleashing the bullwhip with full fury again and again. ‘Why don’t you bow down to him now?’
The men were silent... deathly silent. Even through his pain Marcellus could read in the air the tension, the anticipation. Soon, very soon they would be ready to fight for him, and if need be, to die.
Tesra awoke beside the Pool of Reflection, lying naked upon her back, her flesh gently warmed by the morning sun. A breeze wafted over the shimmering water, delivering natural coolness as somewhere above, a te-te bird trilled its happy call as it circled artfully in the spiral sky.
She sat up on her elbows. She was home. Had it all been a dream?
‘Yes, and no.’
A shadow loomed over her, blocking the sun. It was a man, slender and naked with fine auburn hair, angled cheekbones and a boyish physique. She noticed at once his rosy-red nipples and long, dangling cock, the head of which was pierced with a gold ring.
‘Who are you?’ She spoke out loud, though he’d been reading her mind a moment before.
‘The keeper of your dreams.’ He indicated the enchanted vista, the white-capped mountains and blue-green lushness. ‘The keeper of your heart’s fancy.’
Tesra cocked her head. The voice was familiar. Was it the man in the mask of gold? She leaped to her feet, compelled to check for wounds on her chest from the knife. She found nothing.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded, matching his height. ‘Or more properly, what are you?’
‘Why don’t you take a guess?’
‘I take you for a demon, a warlock,’ she speculated. ‘Though presumably you are him. The emperor.’
‘At your service,’ bowed the dragar.
‘What do you want from me?’
He pinched her chin. ‘Everything, my dear.’
The touch was like ice, and yet it warmed her, too. Almost irresistible was the urge to thrust herself against him, to take that dangling penis inside her, to be defiled by it, even though the act be sacrilege on her island.
Tesra pulled back, her action causing his enigmatic, almost angelic features to cloud instantly. She was reminded at once of the danger she was in.
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ he said, sounding more boy than man now. ‘You are my toy, and I will touch my toys when and how I like.’
‘I am no toy and you are no child,’ she countered recklessly, her words lacking all conviction.
‘Indeed.’ He reached for her engorged nipple. ‘What are you, then?’
She was powerless to resist. ‘No, please, do not do that... not here.’
‘Why not? Don’t you like it?’ He was mocking her.
Tesra was panting. He was making her need him, as a female needs a male. He need only say the word, issue the command and she would be his, but she sensed he needed more than her mere body. He needed her mind. Her heart. And perhaps her very soul.
The dragar smiled, though there was no mirth in his countenance. Clapping his hands he drew thunderclaps in the sky and in a flash, he was gone.
Tesra was alone. More alone than she had ever been, for while this place looked like home she was quite sure now that it was not. Wherever she was it was an illusion, something dredged from the depths of her memories.
‘Tesra,’ whispered the voice in her ear, ‘how are babies born?’
It was a child’s voice mocking. She looked down and there was a very small girl with wide blue eyes, nearly invisible skin and white-blonde hair to her knees.
‘How are babies born,’ the child repeated, ‘Tesra?’
Tesra retreated, frightened. This was not her island, not her home, not even the inside of her own mind.
‘Oh,’ spoke the unseen dragar, ‘but it is.’
There was a crack of thunder and Tesra found herself running through the jungle. Someone, something, was behind her closing fast. She must not allow herself to be caught. The girl’s voice laughed in her head, the question ringing about the babies, and she did not want to know the answer.
The thing was closing. Hot and snarling. A beast with claws, snapping limbs, tearing the greenery behind her, swathing a path of destruction. She was nearly out of breath. Her chest heaved and she was aroused, inexplicably, the fear of being hunted, the helpless feeling of pursuit working at odds with her need to flee at all costs. A part of her, very strong, did not wish to fight, but knew, soon, very soon, it must yield nonetheless.
She heard the creature snarl and roar and then, instinctively she knew it was airborne, springing at her. Tesra went down beneath it, belly first onto the jungle floor. It was on her, hot and fur-matted, teeth and claws sharp and deadly. She dared not move a muscle.
Oh, goddess, why were her thighs tingling and trickling so? Why were her sweat-covered breasts so swollen and why were her hips pressing down into the dirt, undulating?
The thing was sniffing and licking at her, up and down her back. She cringed at the prickling tongue, slavering past her ear, down to her buttocks, whip-like. Then all at once the monster flipped her to her back. It was dark now and very fast and before she could get a good look it was sniffing elsewhere, at the source of what had attracted it in the first place.
Her sopping wet cunt.
Terror flashed through her mind as she realized what it wanted. It is going to rape me, she thought, the words icing her overheated skin. I am to be raped by a beast.
‘No,’ said the voice of the man-child, the impossibly old, impossibly young dragar. ‘It cannot be an act of rape if you spread willingly.’
‘But it will hurt me,’ she replied to the thoughts invading her mind. ‘It will force itself and show no mercy.’
‘And this is precisely what you crave, is it not?’
‘No,’ she denied. ‘There is no reason in this. What could the thing want from me, or I from it?’
‘What indeed?’
The beast mounted her, but it was no longer a beast.
‘Marcellus?’
He smiled lovingly as he thrust his cock to the hilt in her warm silkiness. ‘I shall give you seed,’ said he. ‘And you shall bear me sons.’
‘That cannot be, Marcellus. Only the goddess creates anew the flesh of the male and female. She herself forges the bodies of infants, delivering them from the sacred volcano.’
‘That is a fairytale told to silly little nymphs.’ He shook his head, his motions in and out beginning to drive her to distraction. ‘It is the cock, the sperm which fertilizes the womb. Your own belly is where the babies are forged, Tesra.’
‘No,’ she squirmed. ‘You lie and you are not Marcellus.’
‘I am close enough for your purposes. I have his memory, his experience. I can tell you how we met and how you are my slave, she whom I will impregnate. And I can tell you other things, like how his grandfather went to your island many years ago, as have many sailors, to make babies in secret. The babies you think are plucked from the volcano.’
‘Get off me!’ She bucked beneath him on the jungle floor, biting and kicking as though she herself were the beast.
‘Lie still,’ said he to her, delivering a hard smack across her face, ‘girl.’
Tesra ceased her useless struggle. ‘Please,’ she begged, ‘at least show me the respect to appear as your true self, dragar. Why pretend? We are still in your palace. I am not fooled.’
The image of Marcellus smiled thinly, the cock, the touch all too real. ‘Th
is is all you need to know, female. On your back, receiving the seed of your male. Your master, Marcellus. Move beneath me, Tesra, increase my pleasure now or I shall take my belt to your pretty arse. Just as I did the day we met.’
Tesra shook her head back and forth. This could not be happening.
‘Acknowledge me, slave.’ He savaged her nipple between his teeth.
‘Yes,’ she wailed, ‘master.’
Of all the possible attacks from the dragar, this was the only one she’d not anticipated. His use of the very form of Marcellus, which so dominated her heart and body. A form she could not help but respond to, though she knew it was an illusion. But still there was at the heart of it all a lie. She would not, could not bear children this way. Tesra moved her hips obediently, unable to stop herself.
‘Your belly will swell, Tesra. A child shall squirm within it and kick, the very child grown from the issue of my cock. Through this child we will rule the world, from a new capital upon the Isle of Dreams.’
‘No, only the goddess gives us children,’ she defied, though her body continued to respond, pleasuring him. ‘You speak madness.’
‘I own you, Tesra,’ said the image of Marcellus, ‘and your thoughts as well. You cannot contradict me.’
She saw the red in the eyes, the sudden temper, and it occurred to her the dragar had a weakness.
‘The blazes I can’t.’ She spat full in his face.
‘Bitch,’ hissed the emperor, returning to his own form, his eyes like the underworld, his breath burning hot on her face, his hands at her throat. ‘I will never release you. Not till you give me what I want. That fool Marcellus cheated me of the ring by which I would have found your island for myself. But you will tell me. You will reveal everything to me. You will open to me, or you will die!’
Tesra looked in his eyes, seeing his intention at last, and it was more terrible than she’d imagined. It was not only the world he sought to rule, but the domain of the gods as well. Her screams rose to the illusory skies, threatening to break them apart. She could not let him do this thing; it was not only her fate, but that of all creation at stake.
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