by Faith Eden
'Apparently there was no money where you were found,' Mirit replied. She had backed away until she was standing against the wall by the doorway, but now she ventured a step or two closer again. 'We think your purse must have been lost in the river.'
'Then someone must lend me enough for this and I will repay them double, just as soon as I can get word to Garassotta. Who is the swiftest horseman around here?'
'It would do no good,' Mirit said sadly. 'There is little money in this village and none who had the sum you need would admit to it anyway. Besides, there is no horseman here who could hope to catch this Pecon. As I said, you have been here for several days now, so they will surely be many miles from here. He may well have already sold the girl on.'
'I hope not,' Savatch muttered. 'I hope not, for I swear I'll kill any man that touches her.' He forced his eyes open again.
'Mirit,' he groaned, 'you must do something further for me... please? I owe my life to you - you and your grandfather, and even, it seems, to this Pecon fellow, for all that he has exacted a terrible price, but I will reward you all handsomely as soon as I am able. Meantime, you must find someone to ride to the castle at Garassotta and take with him a message, which I shall dictate. It will mean yet more delay, but there is nothing else for it. We must bring help here - and as quickly as possible.'
Corinna was beginning to find the developing relationship between Pecon and his latest slave quite fascinating. The young man had obviously been captured by Alanna and Jekka, though in what circumstances she had no idea, and was finding his new status more than a little difficult to accept.
From his build, and what she could see of his features, he appeared to be, or have been, a young warrior of sorts, possibly from the far north, the region generally referred to as the Snow Kingdoms. From what Corinna knew of the men in those parts, slavery would come to him as anything but easy and his general attitude and demeanour did nothing but confirm this.
Meanwhile, the extra horses did little to help their progress. The pack on the fourth horse clearly contained something that Pecon valued, and was too bulky to permit even Demila to ride upon its back. And whilst the other horse was unquestionably more sturdy than the pony that Corinna and Demila had taken turns to ride previously, the pony itself was not big enough to carry Sprig for any distance and allow the two girls to ride the more powerful steed together.
The only advantage, from Corinna's point of view, was that now she had to walk for only one third of each day, rather than for half of it, though Pecon seemed eager to take advantage of this fact by setting a slightly stiffer pace. Two days on from the village where he had purchased the luckless young man, Corinna's feet and legs felt no less painful and the blisters beneath her toes were worse than ever.
It came as a great relief to her when, on that second evening, their small party encountered a trader who was prepared to sell Pecon one of the three mules he was leading behind his own horse. And when Pecon had transferred the burden from the packhorse to his latest acquisition, she hauled herself onto the larger animal's back and spent the final hour of the day's journey slumped across its neck in a state of semi-consciousness.
Once they had stopped to make camp, however, Corinna quickly realised that Pecon had plans for her that precluded any chance of her sleeping just yet. So far, he had paid her little attention, save for ensuring that she travelled securely gagged throughout the day, but now it seemed a thought had occurred to him.
'He looks fine enough,' Pecon said, indicating Sprig, 'but we none of us know whether he functions properly, so I thought we might test him this evening and see whether my coin was well spent.
'I think,' Alanna mused, as the two women rode slowly towards the brow of yet another hill, 'I think we could allow ourselves a day or so of rest and relaxation.'
'We've certainly earned that,' Jekka replied. 'This trip has been more profitable than we expected, after all. Perhaps we should have brought away more of their horses. I hadn't realised just how much a good mount fetched in these parts. Absolutely scandalous, especially when you're expected to pay more for a horse than you would a slave.'
'Unusual for you to be so concerned about money matters,' Alanna quipped, 'or are you still griping that I wouldn't let you make the fellow an offer for one of his females?'
'I can't see what you had against the idea,' Jekka said sulkily. 'After all, she'd have had a better life with us than wherever it is she'll end up now.'
'Until something happens to us, that is,' Alanna pointed out, 'or until some fellow takes a fancy to her and she to him and you end up slitting both their throats. Besides, I thought you hated the concept of slavery?'
'I do,' Jekka said, 'but she wouldn't have been like a normal slave, more a personal servant.'
'Yes, and we both know how personal,' Alanna laughed. 'But what if she balked at the idea of putting her sweet little tongue around your bud? What then? Would you beat her, whip her, leave her tied over a saddle until she saw the error of her ways?'
'No, well... well, it needn't have been like that. Besides, she'd probably have been very grateful to me for rescuing her.' The horses walked on a few more paces.
'Look, it's all right for you,' Jekka said at length. 'You never seem to need anyone in your bed and you assume, just because I can concentrate on my professional skills, you assume that I'm the same. But a girl gets lonely, and well, once I thought...'
She looked sideways at Alanna, who smiled consoling back at her.
'Well, it would have been more like incest,' Alanna said. 'I've always looked upon you as a sort of younger sister.'
'Half these villagers around these parts wouldn't be here if it weren't for incest.'
'Yes, but we are not peasants,' Alanna said. 'We are supposed to have genuine breeding, not inbreeding.'
'Which is probably why they all seem to have a lot more fun than we do,' Jekka retorted. She lifted the voluminous sleeve on her right arm and fingered the mechanism of the miniature crossbow, which was as ever strapped to her arm there. 'This needs oil again,' she muttered. 'You'd think they'd use a metal for the catch that wouldn't rust at the first sign of damp in the air.'
'Then why not see if we can't find a metalworker to replace the necessary parts?' Alanna suggested. 'They'll have one at Garassotta, for sure.'
'Garassotta?'
'Well, there's bound to be an armoury in the castle and I'm sure the Lady Corinna wouldn't mind you borrowing the skills of one of her artisans. And who knows, maybe she's even got a pretty little maid whose skills you could also borrow.'
'Ah, I see.' Jekka smiled knowingly. 'And I don't suppose we might find Master Savatch at Garassotta also, by any chance? You wouldn't be thinking of borrowing something yourself?'
'Certainly not,' Alanna snapped. 'What was between Savatch and myself was in the nature of a convenient thing. We both of us knew it would end sooner or later and now he has his lady and she is more disposed towards his... preferences,' she ended, choosing her words carefully.
'No, I suggest Garassotta because it is less than two days' ride from here and, though it's not exactly on our original return route, it will not take us far out of our way and it might be pleasant to visit old friends.'
Jekka pondered this for a moment. 'Do you think there might be a maid there?' she said thoughtfully.
'Hundreds, probably. It's a castle, after all, and even grander than Varragol, which was overrun with pretty little maids.'
'All of whom were specially reserved for Lady Dorothea,' Jekka said. 'But then Corinna is no Dorothea, so maybe I could purchase a servant from her. She would know which among her servants was most suitable for my, um, requirements. That would answer one of your objections, at least.'
'She'd also have to be able to ride a horse well and rough it for more than half the time. Your tender chick might soon turn into an old turkey.'
'We survive well enough on the life,' Jekka pointed out.
'Yes, but then we're different,' Alanna said.
'Well now,' Pecon smirked, 'everything seems to be in working order so far.' He had forced the still bound Sprig to lay flat on his back and then instructed Demila to remove the leather sheath from the helpless slave's genitals. Then, at her master's urging, the girl had begun to manipulate his flaccid organ, which soon began to react despite Sprig's attempts to control himself.
'Shall I make him come now, master?' Demila asked bluntly. 'I don't think it will take that long, for I think the restraint has been on him for a few days.'
'You can mount him and ride him to a finish, if you want girl,' Pecon laughed, 'but then maybe not. Maybe we should see how well our other new slave performs. You,' he said, rounding on Corinna, who had remained sitting against a rock during the activities so far. 'You, come over here. It's about time we took that gag off you and let you use your mouth for more than your persistent ramblings.'
There was no room for ambiguity in that statement and, as she rose awkwardly to her feet, Corinna was under no illusions as to what was expected of her. As a slave, she had no say whatsoever in her daily fate and, if a master ordered her to do something, she would be expected to do it, whether it was with a noble or the lowest of slaves.
'There now,' Pecon said, as he removed the gag from between her aching jaws, 'it really is quite a pretty mouth. Perhaps we should also have a proper look to see if the rest of the face matches that promise, but not yet, I think.' He prodded her towards the recumbent Sprig, whose erection still rose impressively in Demila's grip.
'Right,' he said, 'I think you know what to do.'
Corinna nodded, shrugging resignedly. 'Yes, master,' she said. She hesitated. 'May I have my hands free for this, as well?'
Pecon seemed to consider this, and for a moment Corinna thought he was about to accede to the request, but then he grinned again and shook his head.
'No, not yet,' he said. 'Your mouth and tongue should suffice for the moment and Demila will be your hands, if and when you need them.'
Sighing quietly, Corinna carefully knelt between Sprig's widespread thighs. She saw his eyes flickering behind his mask and knew that the sight of her ample breasts, with their distended nipples so blatantly ringed, would be exciting him, as indeed they would excite any man with red blood in his veins.
She glanced at Demila, who smiled encouragingly, all the while keeping Sprig's straining shaft held in a vertical position. Slowly, Corinna leaned forward, parting her lips and gently pressing them against the burgeoning purple flesh, letting her tongue dart in and out, its rough surface abrading the sensitive tip, so that Sprig let out a low groan of barely suppressed desire. Unhurriedly, she opened her mouth wider, sliding down so that it engulfed the entire head and first inch or two of the length.
Immediately Corinna realised there was no chance of her taking the entire stalk into her mouth, for the young barbarian was even more endowed than had at first appeared. Not even Savatch could have matched this weapon for size and girth, but thoughts of Savatch immediately brought tears to her eyes and she furiously fought to banish them.
Instead, she concentrated on the immediate task, sliding her moist lips up and down in increased rhythm. Demila had withdrawn her hand, relying on Corinna to keep control of the throbbing shaft, but a sharp word from Pecon and the girl quickly intervened, grabbing the glistening organ with one hand and using the other to grasp the back of Corinna's collar and haul her head up once more.
'Wait,' Demila whispered. 'Our master does not want him to come too quickly.'
'And not down that hungry little throat, either,' Pecon laughed, coming up behind Corinna. 'We'll keep him on the edge for a while longer and then see how well you take that impressive cock into your belly. Who knows, if his seed finds fertile ground, it might even add to your worth. The offspring of a well made girl like you and a strapping ox like him - well, the people I'm looking for would probably think that worth an extra krone or two.'
Reality for Corinna had now become more than three hours walking each day, plus another seven hours in the saddle, followed by extensive evening sessions coupling with the magnificently endowed Sprig, whose stamina seemed untouched by the daylight toil.
Once they had made camp for the night, the routine was the same as before. Demila would prepare the hapless young man using her practised fingers, Corinna would stimulate him further with her lips and tongue, and then she would mount him, shuddering as the walls of her tunnel stretched to accommodate his incredible girth and length.
Urged on by Pecon, she would ride her human mount to his first orgasm, which seldom took too long, but then she was expected to use both muscles and wiles to keep him erect inside her and then, eventually, produce a second climax, a process which was not so rapidly completed. During this phase, Pecon took Demila beneath his furs and soon their moaning and cries mingled with those of Sprig and Corinna.
Corinna quickly realised that she could take advantage of these interludes, both to conserve her energies and to communicate with her involuntary partner.
'Ek sooruk zee?' she whispered, asking his name, the first time she risked speaking directly to him. Behind the mask, she saw his eyes widen in surprise.
'You speak the old tongue?' he gasped, using the same language. 'You are from the Snow Lands?'
'No,' she said, 'but I learned many languages from my tutors.'
Sprig looked perplexed. 'Tutors?' he said. 'What manner of slave are you?'
Corinna hesitated as another small dart of pleasure winged its brief flight through her body.
'I am no true slave,' she sighed, as the spasm waned, 'but the story is too long to tell.' In truth, she was more interested to learn about Sprig and of how he had come to fall into Alanna and Jekka's hands and, over the next two nights, she gradually extracted the details. Not that any of this knowledge would prove useful, for it was clear that the two Yslander women would by now be many miles away, but at least it was something to be able to talk to her fellow slave and not just remain an inarticulate possession with but one purpose in her master's eyes.
And that purpose, she quickly realised, was to demonstrate her fertility, for Pecon seemed determined that Sprig's seed should bear fruit in her belly. Quite why he was so keen for this to happen, Corinna was not certain, but he made several references to it increasing her value. Clearly he intended to sell her on, and Sprig too, and the prospective buyer presumably placed great store in fertile slaves, male and female. But on the subject of their ultimate fate, Pecon remained silent.
At last, Pecon announced that they were less than half a day's journey from their destination, but the fact that they made camp early in the afternoon and that he led the small party well away from the trail first, was perplexing. To Corinna's surprise, as Demila tended the small cooking pot over the fire, Pecon became quite communicative.
'I intend that we should all rest here for a day or two,' he said, addressing Corinna and Sprig together. 'I am told that these people are very particular as to the stock they buy and I want you two at your very best when they inspect you. Besides,' he added, 'I am in no hurry and it would be worth delaying a little, so that we give your efforts time to show evidence of your fruitfulness.'
'But that could take weeks, master,' Corinna pointed out, respectfully. 'A woman's cycle is that of the moon, as you must surely know.'
'True,' Pecon agreed, 'but I will suggest to your new masters that whatever price we agree shall be subject to a bounty, once they confirm your belly's worth. I intend to break my journey anyway and it is of no great import to me where I take that rest. One place is much the same as another.'
He spoke so coolly, so disinterestedly, that even Corinna, with her experience of the attitudes shown by traders and masters alike, was quite shaken. She was to be sold like some brood mare, her price increasing from the moment it was confirmed that she was with her first foal. And Sprig's value, like that of some prize stallion, would do
ubtless be calculated by his ability to cover as many females to produce as many healthy offspring as possible.
'I hear your milk will be much valued, too,' Pecon added, grinning. 'Apparently it is considered a delicacy in these parts.'
So that was that, she told herself, as she once again rode upon Sprig's thrusting member. She was no better than the farm beasts, kept to increase her master's stock, even the yield from her breasts having a market price. Alanna had once referred to her as a stupid cow, she recalled, and wondered what the Yslander princess would think of her now.
It did not take Dorothea long to understand the significance of their latest surroundings, nor why Fulgrim had chosen to journey eastwards, away from his homelands.
The place, a sort of large farm, but with as many buildings as most large villages, was deep into South Erisvaal and, as far as Dorothea could work out, a day's ride from a town called Erisroth, one of the few major population centres in the country. There was a river, too small to be the Varras, but probably a tributary that supplied water to the establishment and, for the first time in several days of travelling, there were plenty of trees, too.
Fulgrim's men herded their captives into a small compound set at the edge of one coppice, the overhanging branches offering the exhausted slaves welcome relief from the midday sun. And after an hour or so three men, all young, strong and swarthy of complexion, brought buckets of water and a basket of oatmeal cakes, which they distributed and then stood guard while the prisoners, wrists temporarily freed, devoured eagerly.
Restraints were then replaced - in Dorothea's case she was also gagged once more - and the three men sauntered off towards the nearest cluster of buildings, leaving a lone Vorsan soldier to watch over the exhausted group. Sitting slightly away from her former servants, Dorothea leaned her back cautiously against one of the trees and began taking stock of their new surroundings.
