Titus, a 1st Lieutenant, clangs his spork on his challis, indicating that he desires to make a speech. “We have traveled far and we have achieved much. Have we not?”
The crowd chants, “Ai!”
“To victory. To plundering. To the spoils of war.” Upon mentioning ‘the spoils of war’, Titus grabs a hold of his trophy, a beautiful woman of Missalia he laid claim to and been raping for several days. As he grabs one breast obscenely, he pinches her nipple and she cries out, much to the revelry of the boorish crowd, who laugh. Jason rolls his eyes at the vulgar gesture.
In the face of his psychotic and violent nature, he has a sense of propriety and modesty about him. He considers such vulgar displays beneath him.
Growing tired of the display, Jason rises and cuts off Titus. The man’s speech is slurred, and he is prone to giving long speeches when sober. Alcohol loosens the man’s tongue further. Jason can tolerate no more. “And, what pray tell, are you celebrating, Titus?” Jason contemptuously sneers.
“Please tell me, what acts of bravery have you performed in the battlefield as of late? You, who went into battle, with your enlisted men, followed behind them and supervised their efforts in securing these lands from these outgunned, out-smarted and out-matched, unsuspecting town folks.” Nervous laughter ensues.
And Titus, being the recipient of such a derisive speech, sits down, humiliated and dumbfounded as to why he is deserving of such a backlash.
“Please tell me, Titus, how many bullets did you expend from your gun? Have you shot your gun at all?” Titus looks ready to retort. He begins to stand up, receives an admonishing glance from one of his compatriots, re-considers and sits down. “Tell me Lieutenant, are we to thank you for helping us to achieve our goals as of yet? Tell me, are we to thank you for your devising a strategy which has procured our rights to the mines which are rightfully ours?”
Jason puts his hand up to his ear in a mocking gesture. “What is that simpleton? Oh, no retort. Let me explain it to you, you arrogant, lazy, pathetically, inept Lieutenant! You have done none of these things and yet, here you sit, along with your cohorts, enjoying the spoils of war you never helped obtain! I am King! I have strategically planned our assault and you have done nothing!” Jason roars.
Jason looks around at the rest of the group, sneering contemptuously. “That goes for the rest of you miserably inept officers. The thousands of men you command have achieved these goals, but it is through my strategic and ingenious planning we will prevail. Do any of you see me celebrating our victory dance?”
The dejected crowd at first assumes the question is rhetorical. But their King demands an answer. He looks around them and yells, menacingly. “Well?” Capriciously, he picks up his challis and throws it at Titus, who, being inebriated, lacks the reflexes to duck from the blow. The challis smashes straight into the bridge of his nose, causing a visible laceration to appear. He appears angry, but unable to vent his rage at his aggressor, he slinks back further in his chair, humiliation and frustration evident on his countenance.
Without further hesitation, the crowd responds. “No Sire!”
“We will have proper celebration when I deem it appropriate. Is that understood?” Jason asks.
Without hesitation, the crowd responded. “Ai!”
Jason gets up, pushes in his chair, takes hold of Adele forcefully, and walks out. Several servants who been bussing tables immediately clear a path for him, lest they become the recipients of his backlash. Commander Marcus Attilus follows him out. As he exits, the commander approaches him. “Your Grace, permission to speak?”
Jason turns around and looks at him, anger evident on his countenance. “I would tread carefully, Commander. The hind-serpent rests for now, but do not awaken him or risk serious injury. If you are here to rebuke me, I would think longer on such course of action.”
“Not a rebuke, your Grace. Merely a caution.”
“You believe my outburst inappropriate, Commander?”
The commander looks at Jason in a beseeching way, trying hard not to cross the line, yet determined to get his point across. “Not inappropriate, your Grace, but perhaps the timing of such remarks could have been better served at-”
Jason abruptly cut him off. “When? You seek to rebuke me for outburst? I never permitted such a victory feast. What have we actually accomplished, Commander?”
“Your Grace, we may be here for the next two weeks. In order to alleviate the inevitable boredom and stress from inactivity, certain allowances may need to be given, at least for morale’s sake.”
Jason looks at the Commander, with a look that is part consideration and part admonishment. His expression is unreadable to the Commander, who is trying hard to tread delicately. Despite Jason’s anger, he knows the commander’s counsel is useful, so he relents. He sighs. “I wasn’t aware morale is a problem, Commander. “
“It isn’t your Grace. Not yet. But we need the officers in good spirits to rekindle the troops. Allow them this night, perhaps another. That is all I ask. Right now, we have a surplus from the spoils. Why not permit them some rewards from this plunder? Everything you say rings true, but if you want their unconditional compliance for an extended campaign, then-”
“Are you implying we have deserters in our midst?”
“No, your Grace. I am merely thinking about the longevity of this campaign. Right now, we are well met, but consider how we will maintain morale over the next two weeks. Keeping up morale is of vital importance. “
Jason considers his suggestion. He sighs in resignation. “I’ll permit them this night, perhaps another. You deem that sufficient?”
“That I do, my Lord.”
The commander bows in deference. “Your Grace.” He turns around to leave. Jason calls to him, having an idea how he would like to spend his evening.
“Commander?”
“Ai, your Grace?”
“That woman that was with Titus. What was her name?”
“Porsia, Sire.”
“I should very much like to have her tonight. Make haste and bring her to my bed chambers.”
“Of course, your Grace.”
Jason smiles devilishly. “That should teach that smelly beat monger to speak out of turn in my hall.”
“Of course, your Grace.”
Adele cringes at the idea of what will transpire when another girl is brought to Jason’s chamber. She is helpless to do anything about it.
That night, Commander Attilus complies with the King’s request and brings Porsia to his bedchamber, much to the chagrin of Adele. She suspects that not only would she be subjected to performing for Jason, but also she must perform sexual acts with another woman, an act completely abhorrent to her.
She is not attracted to girls in the least. Such acts are frowned on in society and considered obscene by decent townspeople. Mention of such acts is not a topic of conversation and not a subject easily broached under normal circumstances.
Much to the revulsion of the girls involved, both Adele and Porsia must perform sexual acts with each other to entice their sadistic guardian. Jason sits back and grins enticingly, delighting in their obvious discomfort. He forces them to lick each other’s genitalia and orders them to pee on each other.
It is difficult to force themselves to do it, being so unnatural and so disgusting. When they don’t do it fast enough, Jason beats them repeatedly on the ass. This only proves to increase his pleasure.
Further defiling and traumatizing them, he orders them to beat each other on the ass with a small whip. They cry out sharply during the proceedings, exciting Jason to levels of near delirium. He cries out in pleasure. When he can hold off no longer, he cuts off the ‘foreplay’ and takes Adele by force, fucking her from behind, while she is forced to lick Porsia’s cunt.
The combination of the beatings and seeing two such exquisite creatures being forced to perform sexual acts on each other for his benefit proves to be too much. Adele can feel his rhythm change as he begins to thrust
in a frenetic manner, fucking her harder and harder with his rock-hard member. In only a couple of minutes, he spends his seed and collapses on her. Porsia and Adele look at each other, seemingly with the same thought in their head. They are glad it is over, at least for the time being.
Jason begins to snore. Adele pushes him off her disgustedly, as she would wipe off dung from her shoes, thankful to be rid of his distasteful presence. Adele and Porsia, without saying a word to each other, huddle in the blanket together and cry softly, thankful for the repose.
Adele thinks briefly of confiscating one of his daggers and cutting his throat, but thoughts of her sister deter her from such actions. If Sylvia were not in the picture, she would be dissuaded from such a course of action. She would be easily caught and killed, perhaps tortured.
Her death would serve no purpose. She would feel satisfaction only for a moment. She loathes her captor with all her heart. She never dreamt she would have the capacity to hate another person. But up to this point in her life, she never believed men were capable of such savagery.
Of course, she heard stories of such savagery. By all accounts, they were true, but such stories were always about people in distant lands. Adele and Sylvia were oblivious to such savagery that could impose itself on their sheltered existence. To have their eyes opened in such a way is beyond comprehension. It is surreal.
The only aspect that tempers the traumatic blow of having to perform sexual acts with Porsia is that she does not know her personally. The girl lived on the other end of town. Although she attends the same school as Adele, she is several years older and graduated before her. She remembers seeing her in school. But, it was a large school and they did not run in the same circles. It was one small comfort. Adele clings to the naked stranger, taking comfort in her presence. The moment will be short-lived. She allows herself to sleep.
Chapter 18: Assault
When Adele wakes, Jason is snoring. Porsia is still in shock. She holds Adele in a vise-like grip. It takes a great deal of effort to unhinge the girl from herself. And when she manages to do it, Porsia balls up into a fetal position, like a lillyflower in the beginning of spring that collapses in on itself when one touches its sensitive petals. Adele crawls over to Porsia to comfort the girl. “Porsia. Porsia. Wake girl.”
She shakes the girl lightly. When she does, the girl wakes up and nearly screams. Her eyes dilate to twice their size as she looks at Adele, defensively. Pleasant dreams transported the girl far from this nightmare.
Upon seeing Adele, the girl realizes it was only a dream. Her happy and healthy life she once knew is gone forever. This nightmare is her reality. She swallows the scream lodged in her throat and begins to cry. Tears cascade down her face and she is unable to stop them.
“I’ll be leaving soon, Porsia, but I promise I’ll be back for you. You have my word.”
Porsia shakes her head vehemently. “You can’t leave me. I don’t know what he’ll do to me without you here. Please!”
Adele sympathizes with the girl and it tears at her heartstrings with a side spitting pain to see her so, but she must remain steadfast for Sylvia.
Porsia clings to her in a beseeching way and it takes an effort to unhinge her, once again. “Porsia, please. I will return for you. I promise. I must get to my sister, Sylvia.”
Porsia relents and releases herself from Adele. “Ai. Then you have no choice in the matter.”
“What of your kin, Porsia?”
At the mention of her family, Porsia unleashes another cascade of tears from her eyes. Adele wipes them away, affectionately. My ma and pa are dead. Saw them I did with my own eyes, die, painfully so. My brother tried to defend us, but he was butchered as well. He was but fourteen.”
“Then you must know, Porsia, how important it is to find my only kin, do you not?”
“Ai.”
Adele turns around to Jason, being alerted to the rustling of the monster next to her. Perhaps their whispers and whimpering had not gone unnoticed by Jason. Perhaps he happened to pick a time to awaken from his slumber. At any rate, the hateful King awoke. Adele approaches him in a penitent manner, so her request would have a better chance of being fulfilled. “Your Grace. I would like permission to broach the subject we had so recently discussed. “
Jason looks at her, part menacingly and part questioningly. Adele does not know what to make of his temperament. He could accept her request or chastise her for mentioning it at all. But she must ask it. “Permission granted, wenchy.”
“You mentioned the possibility of seeing my kin again if I were to placate the other ones you have in your company. Have you considered my humble request?”
Jason ponders the request. No doubt the children are growing restless. And granting requests to a wench could easily buy her complacency. “Ai Adele. I have decided to relent and grant your request, provided that you do not take advantage of my generosity. You will tend to the young ones, so you will. And in return, I’ll permit you to see your kin.”
Tears flood down her cheeks. For the first time in days, she is happy. She will see her sister. “You are a most gracious and humble King. I thank you.”
She moves to kiss his hand and as she approaches him, he grabs her by the hair and pulls her face to him and kisses her, forcefully sticking his tongue down her throat. With some effort, Adele, chokes back the bile that is building in her throat. He smacks her on the ass hard enough to elicit a cry of pain from her. She knows it is best not to stifle a scream, since he will only lash out at her harder.
“Guard!” Jason yells. A few seconds later, a guard appears.
Upon entering, he bows. “Ai, your Grace.”
“Permit Adele to wash up and then take her to see her kin.”
He turns to Adele. “If you attempt anything after I have bestowed such kindnesses on you, I’ll cut out your throat- but not before I pleasure myself on your sister. Is that understood?”
“Ai, your Grace.”
He smacks her hard on the ass again. She moves to dress herself and he makes no move to stop her.
“And guard?”
“Ai, your Grace?”
“If any man should lay a hand on her, he shall have that hand severed and then put in the stockades while he is sodomized with it.”
“Of course, your Grace. I shall see to her.”
“See that ye do, guard. If no culprit is found from her complaints, we shall look to the most convenient one. Do ye ken?”
The guard suddenly finds it hard to swallow as his throat constricts to half its size and his eyes dilates. He bows. “Of course, your Grace. Set your mind and warrant it done.”
Adele dresses and is led out of the King’s chamber. The guard who accompanies her barely looks in her direction, fearful of eliciting the King’s wrath. It gives Adele some relief he is now her protector, though a coerced one. He would do his best to protect her from any would-be rapists, lest his own life be forfeit.
She is glad to be away from his chambers, if only for a little while. Yet, a part of her feels guilty for leaving Porsia. She knows what the poor girl must endure in her absence and she shudders at the thought.
Adele is led to the tent where the other children are being kept. The area is makeshift, with barely any straw to serve as a proper bed. The children are huddled together, shivering uncontrollably, far from the other side of the tent where the two guards are.
Upon entering the tent, Adele realizes why the guards were on the other side of the tent. Several of the confiscated animals from the plundering campaign are in close proximity to the children and the smell is beyond foul.
The stalls were filthy. The pile up of dung is quite malodorous. Of course, that only half explains it. Some animals in the stalls were deceased. They were not being cared for adequately, so the stench of decaying flesh pervaded the tent. No wonder the two guards were as far away as possible.
They did not think to move the children away from the stench, caring only for their own well-being. Adele shoul
d not have been surprised at such neglectful behavior from the soldiers. It was ironic such behavior enflamed her more when they had so recently butchered her loved ones and most of her family.
It galled her considerably. The King granted her the authority to tend to the children and that is exactly what she would do. As she walks into the tent, the two guards turn around and look at her with obvious wantonness in their eyes.
“Ai, come hither lass, let me lay my hands on you, you pretty little wench.” He approaches her in an attempt to do just that. His attempt is prevented. Her protector intercedes, blocking his way. With a ferocious jab, he smashes his fist into the guard’s face, causing a fair amount of blood flow from his nose.
The sting of the blow brings fresh tears to his eyes and he is momentarily stunned and unable to retaliate accordingly. He tried once he regains his bearings, but he is much too slow. He strikes out at his aggressor but is blocked. Her protector launches two blows at him in rapid succession. The second one hits him in the chin and knocks him out cold.
The other guard appears ready now to come to the aid of his fellow soldier but is halted. “What gives you mothering cunt?”
“This is the King’s wench and you tripe wads are not to touch her out of fear for your lives. If any man so lays a hand on her he will lose that hand. The King’s words, not mine. So think. I may have thrown stoop at your pat, but I saved his hand from a severing, so I did.”
The other soldier cools considerably upon hearing it. “Ai, Pontus was always a brackish, unpredictable sort, so he was. We will take heed or suffer the King’s wrath. It’s a fair warning and we will thank you for it, so we will.” When the lad wakes, I will alert him to the privy.”
“Ai. See that you do,” says the protector.
With that matter resolved, Adele moves to exert her own power to assuage the afflicted children. The first issue would be moving them to some other place than beside the stench. “The King has granted me authority to tend to the children, so he has. Their well-being concerns me now. We need to move them to a better place so they are not so afflicted by the stench next to the animals. Perhaps if we could move the expired ones from their cages.”
The Brotherhood of Merlin Page 10