Trojan Slaves

by Syra Bond

  Then she felt more. This time a drenching. She could not see where it came from but it covered her throat, heating her skin then cooling it as it ran up under her chin. She wondered if it would run as far as her lips, but her attention changed as a soaking burst splatted right into her open mouth. It hit the roof first, then her tongue. It poured in, filling her, covering her tongue, sticking to her lips. It ran to the back of her throat, and as more came from another, it oozed down her throat. She breathed heavily as it ran. She felt her throat tightening, then closing as she gagged, but the tightness passed and she relaxed and let it run freely into her.

  Another burst splashed into her other eye. Another one on her forehead then one right into one of her nostrils. She choked as she sniffed it. It burned her slightly as it ran up. The scent was so intense, beautiful, and she inhaled it deeply, drawing it inside. More spattered onto her neck and face and when she breathed out, even with her mouth wide open, bubbles and frothing semen covered her lips. She was drenched in it. It ran down her throat and back into her nose. It ran from her nostrils and from her mouth. She was covered in semen. She felt it on her breasts and on her stomach. She felt it running between the crack of her cunt and on her open thighs. She heard the Chinese man screeching, 'Buk-ka-ke! Buk-ka-ke! Buk-ka-ke!' She saw more men congregating around her, and more girls lining up behind them on their knees. She was overwhelmed, covered in it, drowned by it.

  Semen ran down her body, along her arms, across her knees and down her legs. She was covered in it. In some places it was thicker than others, but all her skin was covered in the translucent sheen of warm and sticky semen.

  Finally they released the ropes from the iron rings and she curled forward as the tension eased. She went to wipe her face, to clear her eyes and mouth and nose, but they did not allow her. They dragged her from the altar, flung her to the floor and made her kneel.

  She let her head drop as she knelt, her arms by her sides and her wrists, still trailing the ropes which had bound them to the iron rings, against her hips. Semen ran from her nipples, dripping stickily in glutinous strands onto the tops of her thighs. She felt deeply shamed and humiliated. She opened her mouth and licked the semen from her lips. It was warm and its salty tang made her draw in breath. She licked some more. It sat in the hollow of her tongue. She raised her head and let it run to the back of her throat. Its scent filled her and she inhaled more through her nostrils. The semen ran down her throat and she swallowed, pulling it down, eating it, inhaling it, devouring it. She licked more, wiping the tip of her tongue as far as she could around her mouth, onto her chin. The odour absorbed her, the texture enraptured her and she wanted more. She looked through her bleary eyes and hoped the men that surrounded her would start again, would cover her again, would drown her in their semen so she could satisfy her appetite for it.

  One of the men raised her head, another offered her a silver goblet. He pressed it against her lips and she parted them. She felt the syrup of semen tipping into her mouth and she took it in and drank it deeply. It was an elixir to her, bringing her back to life, filling her with joy. She gulped at it, wishing her hands were free so she could hold it herself and tip it back faster. It was a delectable sauce, sweet yet salty, thick and pure. Her throat gulped heavily as she took it in, and she drank deeply and eagerly until the goblet was empty.

  The goblet was taken away. Sappho looked at the men around her. They stood in a circle, naked, the enfolding arms of the girls wrapped around their hips. Their cocks, now limper and more fleshy, still held in the tight grasp of the naked girls that knelt behind them.

  Then something different splattered on her face, something more liquid, less sticky, hotter. Then some more, across her cheek, and as some entered her mouth she tasted the astringent tang of urine. The men were urinating over her. It soaked her hair and ran down her face. It splashed on her shoulders and flowed down her arms to her bound wrists. It streamed across her breasts and stomach, and wanting more she opened her mouth and caught as much as she could. The semen was washed from her and her body sparkled brightly with the pale lemon sheen of the crystalline urine.

  As she was cleaned, as she felt the full force of her degradation, she also felt a strange heat boiling inside her. It started in her throat, blocking it at first, tightening it, constricting it. It went into her stomach and she tensed as it gripped her. She felt it on the insides of her thighs, building quickly from a dull ache to a screaming pain. Finally she felt it inside her sex as it probed inside and gripped her very being. She could not keep her eyes open. She could only think of what was happening, what she was being put through, how she was a humiliated victim, how she was merely an object for the humbling abasement of the men who surrounded her. As their urine flowed she was filled with a sense of joy she would never have thought possible. Her skin was inflamed by their drenching liquid, setting it on fire. Their eagerness to humiliate her filled her with pleasure. It was a fever that could only dissipate with the release of her ecstasy. And she could not hold it back. She opened her mouth wide. She slurped their splashing urine. She cried out, screeching as loud as she could, yelling to them for more, beseeching them to allow her orgasm to flow.

  She fell forward, jerking, twitching, convulsing with its power. They continued to urinate on her, and with every drop that fell on her she twitched again with joy.

  Again she was lifted and this time tied facedown on the cold slab of the altar. She dropped her head forward as they retied her. Tighter this time, stretching her arms and legs around the corners of the marble slab, exposing her back and buttocks, displaying her dark anus and her sex.

  The men and girls stood aside as a beautiful young woman walked between them. She walked erect, her chin held high and her square shoulders draped with a white embossed robe. It was split at the front and parted provocatively with each assured step she took. Her breasts were full and rounded, and her hard, compact nipples pushed against the thin robe. The sheeny material hugged her hips and dipped tightly against her flat stomach.

  Pelador stood back and slowly removed the ceremonial mask from his face.

  'Ah, my daughter,' he said calmly. 'You are so beautiful, so elegant, so chaste. You are indeed the glittering prize of Troy. Even Helen cannot compete with you for beauty. And your purity is a tribute to Apollo. All marvel at how you resist the temptations of the flesh that others are so easily victim to. Daughter, Chryseis, how can I honour you? What can I give to you? How can I honour your beauty?'

  Chryseis walked over to the altar and looked down at the captive Sappho. One of the naked men rushed forward and, grabbing Sappho's hair, lifted her head to show to his priest's daughter.

  'She is so beautiful,' said Chryseis bending her head to look into Sappho's face. 'And she has no slave mark. She must be free. I want her as a friend. Yes, that is what you can give me, father. I will take this beauty as my friend.'

  'She is yours, my virtuous darling,' Pelador said, and turned to the young men. 'Release her! We are done with her!'

  Chapter 5

  Chryseis' game

  'Bring her in here,' commanded Chryseis.

  The young men carried Sappho's limp body into the opulent room, its high, brightly decorated ceiling a panoply to fine furnishings, vivid and expensive drapes and a deep, marble-edged bath. She was unconscious from exhaustion.

  'Put her near the bath and send my girls in to bathe her. Now go! I will call you again in a while. I think there are services you will need to provide before the night is out.'

  The young men bowed and backed away, never for a moment daring to turn their back on the beautiful daughter of their revered priest of Apollo, Pelador. Chryseis giggled at their subservience, threw her mass of dark hair back and turned away.

  Sappho lay on her side on the edge of the marble bath. Her arms trailed into the water and the ropes which were still attached to her wrists floated on its milk-coloured surface. Her long red-brown hair spread around her face in wet tangles. It highlighted the pale
ness of her skin and accentuated its smooth clarity. Ropes still hung from her ankles and harsh red marks on the insides of her thighs showed where she had been pulled down forcibly against the cold, sharp-edged altar.

  Her closed eyes portrayed a chaste sweetness hard to attribute to a mortal.

  Chryseis knelt down and stroked Sappho's forehead.

  'You are truly beautiful, Sappho, my new friend. I think Apollo himself must have sent you for me.'

  Chryseis clapped her hands and six naked girls ran up beside her. Their hair had been cropped short and their pubic hair shaved. Each wore a golden necklace. One, Calliope, had a shiny ring piercing her clitoris. Another two had golden rings through their pert, dark pink nipples. All the girls knelt down beside Sappho, giggling and looking to their mistress for instructions. With their knees together their slits could not be seen, but the flats of their stomachs, descending to the beautiful disguising V made by its union with the tops of their thighs, told more of the hidden delights in their absence than could ever be told by their obviousness.

  'This is my new friend Sappho,' said Chryseis. 'When she wakes you must do anything she wishes. You must take her instructions as if they were mine. But first you must bathe her, shave her pubic hair and anoint her body with scent and oil. When you have done that you can plait her beautiful russet hair, and file and paint the nails on her toes and fingers.'

  The girls set straight to their task. Carefully they released the ropes on Sappho's wrists and ankles, first untying the knots then slowly unwinding the encircling rope until it was free. Sappho's wrists and ankles bore bracelets of red marks where the ropes had been. One of the girls with rings in her nipples massaged Sappho's wrists while one of the others massaged her ankles.

  They lifted her carefully into the marble bath. The water, milky with oil and scent, enveloped her body and its warmth flushed the paleness of her skin with a rosy sheen. They held her face out of the water while they took large sponges and gently rubbed her whole body. Her coppery hair floated on its surface, reaching out in lazy talons and twisting like a mermaid's in the fragrant water.

  Two of the girls put their arms beneath Sappho and lifted her up in the water until her breasts, stomach and the fronts of her thighs were above the surface. Water lapped around the sweet lips of her cunt, sometimes obscuring it, sometimes exposing it. When it was above the water droplets ran between the pink labia, mixing with the glistening of her own moisture, which shone on the delectable flesh.

  A tall girl mixed some sudsy soap and spread it around Sappho's sex. She rubbed it over her pubic hair and between her legs. As it foamed some of it slid away into the water in tight bubbly masses. Calliope, the girl with the ring in her clitoris, fetched a shiny blade set in an oyster-shell handle and stepped into the bath. She stood alongside Sappho, naked, as they all were, the milky water lapping just above her own shaven slit. She leant forward and moved the shiny blade along the top edge of Sappho's pubic hair. She worked slowly and carefully, lifting the blade away and cleaning it in a bowl held by another girl so that the cut hair did not go into the bathwater.

  Calliope asked the girls holding Sappho to raise her a little higher and to part her legs. The girls raised her, opening her legs so that Calliope could work now on the outer edges of Sappho's beautiful sex lips. Calliope used the blade to cut Sappho's pubic hair away. Finally she checked carefully and saw that she had not missed any. Satisfied, she stood back and admired her handiwork. She nodded her satisfaction and the girls holding Sappho plunged her deep into the water to wash all the suds away. They lifted her out, her skin now perfectly naked, and laid her on the side of the bath. Two other girls massaged sweet-smelling oil into her skin. They rubbed eagerly where the pubic hair had been, lubricating the freshly shaved skin and Sappho's perfectly shaped and flawless sex.

  Chryseis bent down and looked at her enquiringly. Sappho's hair was now tangled in long wet strands across her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. Chryseis lifted some of the strands away and laid them aside. She ran her hand down Sappho's stomach and across her hips. She let her hands rise onto the taut skin that covered Sappho's hipbones, before sliding them down between her slightly open legs.

  Chryseis drew the palm of her hand squarely against Sappho's fleshy slit. Contact with the perfect skin made Chryseis close her eyes for a moment in a reverie of delight. She sighed and let out a slight moan. She probed her finger first into the centre of Sappho's flesh and then into the darkness that lay beyond the pink softness of the exterior. Her finger slid in easily, the outer flesh moist and warm from the bath and the inner flesh, the channel of delight that led into the interior, was satiny with the natural moisture of desire.

  Chryseis' little finger found a stray hair at the top of Sappho's thigh. It was short, had been cut once but had not been completely separated. Chryseis removed her fingers from Sappho's cunt. They glistened in the light of the flickering oil lamps. She held them up, sniffed them, then licked until Sappho's moisture had been removed. She swallowed, inhaling the scent as it ran down her throat.

  'Girl!' she shouted to Calliope. 'Come here. At once!'

  Calliope ran over, expecting her mistress' congratulations. She dropped to her knees, placed her flat palms on the tops of her thighs, opened her eyes wide and nodded willingly.

  'Mistress?' she said. 'Have I done well?'

  'Open your legs!' ordered Chryseis. 'Stay on your knees beside me, but open your legs wide.'

  The girl did as she was instructed, still expecting a favour from her mistress.

  Chryseis gave her fingers one last lick then thrust her hand forward between Calliope's legs. She grabbed the clitoral ring, twisted it and pulled hard at the same time.

  Calliope gasped, tried to close her legs and bent forward in pain. Chryseis stared hard at her, and Calliope, fearful and surprised, bit her lip and held back a scream. Chryseis turned the ring further, twisting it a complete semicircle. Calliope's clitoris throbbed under the turn, but still she did not give way to her need to scream.

  'Your job was not done properly,' said Chryseis, leaning forward and looking deeply into Calliope's tear-filled eyes. 'I will allow you to correct your mistake. But any further errors and...' she twisted the ring even further and Calliope exhaled in a final bid to hold back her agony, '...and this,' said Chryseis, pulling, 'will seem like the softest kiss.'

  Calliope took up the blade again, and still with Chryseis holding the ring, bent over Sappho and put it close to the single missed hair. Her hand trembled and the blade would not stay still. Tears began rolling down her cheeks and Chryseis, seeing her fear, twisted harder on the ring. Calliope tried again to close her knees together, hoping she could trap Chryseis' hand and stop it inflicting further pain, but her action only increased Chryseis' anger. Chryseis called two of the girls over. She made them sit on each side of Calliope and hold her legs wide.

  The girls did as they were told, enthusiastic to carry out their mistress' orders as well as to maintain the distraction the attention on Calliope provided from their mistress' anger. Calliope struggled against them, but Chryseis only tightened the twist on the ring further, the pain so intense that Calliope submitted completely to the girls.

  She sat on the upturned soles of her feet, her knees widespread, her sex exposed and open. Chryseis' finger held tightly the fully turned clitoral ring.

  'Now get to work, or my kindness will run out,' she exhorted.

  Calliope tried again. Her hand still quaked with fear, and she could not place the blade smoothly on Sappho's skin, but she did not dare hold back. The sharp edge came against the single hair. She drew it forward, hardly knowing what would happen. The blade sliced the hair and Calliope drooped her head in relief.

  Chryseis smirked. She drew her finger out of the ring, but still held it in place, twisted as it was, with her other hand.

  'And for doing such a bad job to begin with...' she reinserted her finger into the ring, tightening the bud of Calliope's clitoris by a full turn,
'...I will give you an extra reward.'

  She held the ring there for a moment, savouring what had not yet happened, enjoying the fragrant moment of potential. Suddenly she lurched forward and twisted the ring as far as the flexibility in her wrist would allow.

  Calliope threw her head back and shrieked. Spit ran from her lips. She shrieked again and Chryseis laughed. She squirmed down onto her shoulders, lying between the tortured girl's legs as she attempted to twist her body over so that she could apply even more rotation to the ring.

  Without warning Sappho's eyes opened wide as she regained consciousness. She did not know where she was; she could not imagine. As her head filled with the cries of Calliope she drew her hands up over her exposed breasts in an instinctive act of self-protection.

  Chryseis, distracted, let go her grip on her victim who fell back, choking on her scream, clutching her hands between her legs.

  'Take her away,' she ordered. 'I will decide tomorrow if I still want her to serve me.' Chryseis pulled herself close to the still confused Sappho. 'You are truly so beautiful,' she said, as she began playing with Sappho's wet hair. 'And hungry with desires, I think.'

  'I do not know what you mean, mistress. You embarrass me,' said Sappho, slowly coming to her senses.

  'First, you do not call me "mistress",' said Chryseis. 'I am your friend. You call me "Chryseis". And your embarrassment is well placed for I know what I say is true. I have seen it in you. I have watched your pleasure.'

  'Mis... Chryseis,' Sappho said nervously. 'Chryseis. I am sure you are mistaken. I have not been with a man. I am too chaste for desires.'