by Syra Bond
She took it all. Holding the ball tightly in her mouth, breathing hard through her nostrils. Allowing the pain to feed her own desires. She took it all. For some reason the worst was on the insides of her thighs. The pain there was so sharp, so brittle, and it made her squirm and the squirming made her dizzy and that made her feel like vomiting. She tasted it in her throat and was filled with terror that it would erupt from within her, and that it would have nowhere to go past the plugging stone in her mouth.
Crios finally tired. He licked her cunt and along some of the red lines his belt had left on her pale skin. She closed her eyes and allowed the pain to flow through her. She panted as, slowly, it began to dissipate.
'Abas, wash her down!' shouted Crios. 'We will give her another taste another time. She will not forget us, I am sure of that. Yes, douse her and take the heat of my belt away from her. Let her cool before we leave her to the dogs.'
Eva hung there, staring though bleary eyes at the wooden planks of the boat. The salty moisture of her own sweat burned into the reddened stripes, and the stinging pain was heightened by the heat of the sun as it burned down on her exposed skin.
Her body twisted as a drenching bucket of water was emptied between her wide-open legs. It splashed against her sore, dilated sex, flowing around it before rushing down her stomach and between her buttocks. Eva gasped in shock and held her breath. By the time she was breathing again through her nostrils the water was gurgling past her nose. She sniffed some of it in without realising, and choked. Its acrid saltiness burned her throat. Another splash as another bucket of water was thrown against her already soaked sex. Its flow took the same route, but this time quicker, reaching her nose in copious amounts and running straight into it without her inhaling. She twisted again and brought her hands up to her face, as if she had only just realised they were free.
She tried to shield her face but it was impossible. Each new deluge of water ran faster than the first, got to its goal quicker.
She felt the full force of it against her sex and anus. The natural reaction of her body was to close itself against the torrent, but Eva did not want that. And even had it been possible she would not allow it to happen. The feeling of the warm salty water flowing inside her vagina and into her anus was something she did not want to avoid. Slowly she let her hands fall away from her face. She watched them trailing down towards the wet sand beneath her head. As they dangled loosely before her wide open eyes she saw, with their surrender, her own yielding, her complete submission to the controlling power of her cruel torturers.
Eva did not resist them as they took her down and stretched her out on her back. She was too exhausted, too used to do anything to save herself. She lay on the hot sand limp and soaking, her skin glistening in the bright light of the sun, her hair as radiant as its fiery rays. She dropped her head to one side and pressed her tongue against the back of the stone ball that still gagged her mouth. She was not exhausted by the men's humiliation of her, nor of the pain they had inflicted on her. No, if it was only so simple she would not be so confused. She was exhausted by her own delight. The shocks of her ecstatic convulsions had filled her body until it overflowed. She was exhausted by her own passion. Worn out by her own uncontrollable ecstasy.
Crios and Abas pulled her arms and legs wide using the ropes which still dangled from them. They drove some spikes into the sand and fixed her to them by the ropes. They kicked sand over her before leaving, laughing and pushing at each other. The gritty sand stuck to her wet body. It darkened for a few seconds as it soaked up the moisture, but quickly returned to its bright silvery colour as the heat from the sun dried it again. Some dogs came around, sniffing at her, licking her, whining their attention, growling possession of their new prize. She tightened her muscles and stared up into the blue sky. She thought of home, of freedom and a life without pain - and she thought of her pleasures and how they had been born of captivity and suffering.
Chapter 7
The ill-treatment of Praxis' slaves
Chryseis and Sappho crouched behind the iron grill in the wall of the disused prison cell above the training area of Praxis' slave house. It was here he kept his slaves, and here he trained them to provide pleasure to anyone who would pay enough. Anyone searching for the most beautiful women or men, trained in the most extraordinary sexual practices, knew that Praxis could oblige. He would provide slaves that were disobedient or obedient, young or old, versed in every technique, or chaste and unknowing. He would make sure that whatever was wanted could be fulfilled, whatever was imagined could be had.
Although Praxis' eyes had been put out by Ajax years ago, he was no less aware of everything that went on. He prowled around his training camp with a brass-tipped rod in his fist, the ever-present Master Wang acting as his eyes and his informant. If anything displeased Praxis he struck out at it with his rod, punishing anyone who acted against him or who, for whatever reason, he did not consider warranted his continuing patronage. Instead of his sense of sight Praxis used his sense of smell. He smelled things wherever he went. Sometimes it was objects, sometimes it was simply suspicion. He would hold out his rod and stop, then sniffing the air until he was satisfied it was in order to move on, bring his rod down and continue. Sometimes he reached out, grabbed people and sniffed them, inhaling their scent as he ran his nose across their faces, their hands and feet, or their genitals. If he could not get what he wanted from scent, he touched, mauled with his large sinewy hands, and licked; there was nothing that escaped the unseeing Praxis. His slaves lived in fear of his knowledge and his vicious temper, knowing that if they crossed him or displeased him their future was both dark and short.
Chryseis came here frequently, to this small cell with the iron grill. She usually masturbated as she watched the suffering slaves. Sometimes she brought one of the men in her service so she could use him as well. There were old bits of rope, thongs and unrepaired whips littering the tiny room. Sometimes she would get the man to masturbate her, instructing him carefully on the method first. She liked him to rest his finger at the top of her sex, just inside the lips, and move it up and down so that he squeezed the flesh of her sex which put pressure on the tip of her clitoris. Sometimes she would masturbate him. She liked to hold a cock when it was stiff; she revelled in its venous texture, its heat, its hardness. She liked to watch it thicken and deepen in colour when it was about to eject its semen, and she liked to drink the semen when finally, as she held the shaft tightly, it spurted from the pulsating cock. Usually when she did this she kept one finger in the man's anus and did not take it out until it had stopped contracting with delight. Once she kept it there and the man's cock hardened again, so after holding and massaging it in the way she liked, she sucked more semen from it and still had not removed her finger. Sometimes she would tell the man to tie her as he wished and as tight as he wanted. Sometimes, and against her protestations, he would leave her there, bound and unable to escape, until the next day.
Chryseis smiled at Sappho and pulled her face down close to the grill.
'Look! It is Praxis. How evil he looks,' she said, barely able to control her excitement. 'Look at the ugly scars where his sockets were sewn up by Master Wang. They say he never made a sound as it was done.'
Praxis marched into the courtyard with Master Wang at his side. He stopped and held up his rod.
'Wang! Bring me the new girl! And the others you have been collecting. I must find out what we have. We have clients to satisfy!'
Master Wang waved to some men carrying short, double-tailed leather quirts. They ran forward and took his instructions.
At the far end of the courtyard were two heavy wooden doors to the outside. In front of them were three iron braziers, alive with sparking red flames. Along the one wall was a row of small cages stacked three high. On the opposite wall was a timber scaffolding with a water tank at the top of it. On the wall directly below where Chryseis and Sappho huddled behind the grill was a row of beautiful naked girls, chained together th
rough rings in tight leather collars around their necks. In the centre of the courtyard was a large timber cylinder, an axle through its centre resting on a crossed timber mounting on each side.
'Sappho,' whispered Chryseis. 'Have you ever seen anything so exciting?'
Sappho, her eyes wide with amazement, shook her head but could not answer.
Chryseis grabbed Sappho's shoulders and pulled her down closer against the grill. Sappho felt the cold of the rough iron grating on her face. Its metallic smell excited her and she inhaled deeply. She peered down into the courtyard. The men Master Wang had instructed went to the cages stacked against the wall. Sappho could hardly believe it. Each one had a young woman inside. There was barely enough room to accommodate them. Each of them was crouched down tightly, their arms between their legs and their faces pressed down against their knees. One of the cage doors on the top tier was opened and the woman was pulled out. She fell to the ground and shouted out in pain. Two of the men struck at her with their quirts. She screamed, but could not stand up. She remained huddled in the same position she had been forced into in the cage. They struck her again and slowly stretched herself until, with more kicking and beating, she managed to stand up straight. Her tear-stained face was expressionless and her mouth gaped in despair.
Master Wang kicked out at her and she scuttled into the centre by the timber cylinder. One by one each cage was opened and all the women were brought out. Some were so stiff they had to be beaten before they stood up straight. Some squirmed on the dusty ground in fear, crying and wailing. One urinated as she managed to get to her knees, and one of the men lay beneath the stream and drank it. All the women were naked and all had their hair cropped short. They huddled together, some holding their forearms and hands over their breasts. Others pushed their hands down between their legs, in a pitiful effort to reduce their exposure or protect some hoped for scrap of dignity that may still be left to them. Master Wang instructed the men with the quirts to thrash the women's legs until they dropped their hands by their sides. The men followed his orders enthusiastically until all the women stood upright, to attention, with the palms of their hands at the sides of their thighs.
Their exposure excited Sappho. She imagined herself in their place, being driven around the courtyard where there was no hiding place. Being unable to cover herself or turn away. Being the victim of anonymous and cruel men. Being thrashed and beaten and ordered to humiliate herself. Being forced to submit to the peering eyes and mockery of others. She felt a moistness between the crack of her sex and pushed a hand down between her legs. Her fingertips slid inside the satiny valley. She licked her lips as her flesh responded with a gentle throbbing and an increased warmth. She pressed the palm of her hand against her tingling, hardening clitoris.
Chryseis saw what Sappho was doing and, pulling Sappho's hand away, replaced it with her own. The shock of difference sent an anxious thrill through Sappho's body. She felt the heat of Chryseis' fingers against the moist flesh of her sex, pressing herself against them, welcoming them, inviting them to enter. Chryseis did not have to press, the merest touch allowed her fingers to slip between the swollen lips. Sappho stared down into the courtyard.
Sappho watched the women being bent over, each one in turn forced down onto her knees. If one looked up she received a keenly delivered stroke from a cutting leather quirt. Every time these double-ended strips of leather smacked across one of the women's backs, or her buttocks, or breasts, Sappho tensed and breathed in sharply. It was as if it was happening to her. It was as if seeing the women punished allowed her to feel their punishment. As the quirt hit flesh Sappho felt it against her own. It felt so real. It made her jump with the shock, recoil from the pain and sting with the heat of hurt as it penetrated. And each time this happened she tensed her thighs, rose a little and drew Chryseis' fingers further into her own wet vagina. The image of pain and suffering that met her eyes mixed with the ever-deepening penetration of Chryseis' fingers to form a delectable blend of anguish and pleasure.
Praxis paraded amongst the women. He touched one with his rod. He dug it forcefully into one of her breasts and made her stand. He held his face close to hers and sniffed around her mouth and nostrils. She whimpered and he grabbed her cheeks, as quickly and accurately as if he could see.
'I'll give you reason to whine, my smooth-skinned beauty,' he said, laughing. 'You will whine louder than ever you could have imagined.'
He squeezed her cheeks hard and sniffed inquiringly at her panting breath. He let her go and ran his free hand down across her breasts to the flat of her smooth stomach. He cocked his head to one side and rested his hand at the base of her stomach. He attended to the feel of her skin, sensing its warmth, its smoothness, its pliability. Then, with a suddenness that made her jump, he continued until his hand reached her sex. He prised the soft flesh open and wedged his fingertip beneath the curved entrance the pressure of his fingertip caused. He pulled it upwards, stretching it, and she raised herself on it, unwilling to show him her distress yet unable to stand any more mistreatment.
'A fine one, Wang!' he shouted. 'She has the flesh of youth. And the moisture to go with it! And she responds nervously, afraid of what might happen to her. Yes, she is perfect for a client who needs a frightened fawn. Wash her down. We will keep her for training.'
Master Wang grabbed the girl from behind. He pulled her elbows together and marched her to the side of the courtyard. He pushed her against the timber gantry and she cried out as she thumped against it. He leant against her, his body pushed between her shoulder blades, and held her in place. She struggled but her breasts were pressed hard against the timber upright of the gantry, and Master Wang had pinned her so tight from behind it was impossible. She looked up appealingly towards the grill where Sappho and Chryseis crouched.
They both ducked down in case the young woman saw them. Sappho tensed her muscles and Chryseis fingers were suddenly enclosed more tightly by her succulent flesh. Straight away Sappho pushed herself down on Chryseis' fingers. She lifted herself up then pushed down again, opening her thighs and spreading the entrance of her sex to let in more.
'How deep do you want it?' asked Chryseis. 'How deep?'
'As deep as I can have it,' replied Sappho, staring again at the woman below, sensing her fear, picking up her vulnerability and feeding on her exposure. 'As this woman's suffering increases, so I want your fingers to go deeper. When she is screaming for mercy I want you to release my joy. Only then do I want to feel the flow of my ecstasy.'
'How will I do that, dear Sappho?'
'By going faster. As she screams more, by going faster. And by going deeper as her terror increases. And, when you are certain, by entering my anus. Yes, that is what I will need. When it is time, when I am ready, I want you to thrust your fingers in me there as well. They must go in hard. You must force them deep. You must have no mercy. I want to feel them against my innards. Oh, yes. Up in my bowels. I do that to myself. I squat down and it opens. It is easy to enter then. I use two fingers and I keep my cunt full while I enter my anus from the back. My fingers slip in so deep when I am ready. It is as though I am full to brimming. Am I bad for asking you this? Chryseis, am I bad? Can you do that? Can you do that for me? Oh Chryseis, tell me I am not bad. Tell me.'
'My beautiful Sappho. You could never be bad. Your sweetness overflows. I will do that for you, I promise. When the moment is right. I will bring you all the pleasure you need. I will not hold back. Do not fear.'
Sappho smiled and pressed her soft wet sex against Chryseis' hand. Trustingly she tightened her muscles and drew the fingers in further, now knowing that her pleasure was assured.
She looked down again at the woman pinned against the timber gantry. Wang beckoned two men who tied leather thongs tightly around the woman's wrists and ankles. They forced a leather ball into her mouth and secured its trailing leather ties tightly behind her head. She looked terrified. She shrank back against the gantry as if, somehow, there was escape to be found
in retreat.
Sappho drank in the woman's fear. She looked deeply into the pathetic woman's eyes and felt only Chryseis' fingers in her sex. She saw the woman's shaking body, and she drooled spit from the corners of her mouth. She watched as the men tied their victim back against the rough timber gantry, her legs spread and her arms extended as wide as they would go. Sappho lapped at the spit that bubbled from her mouth as if it were ambrosia. She inhaled deeply and her body filled with the heady aroma of joy. The scent of her pleasure was the misfortune of another, and it smelled delectably sweet.
A leather rope, knotted together from many separate thongs, was wrapped around the woman's waist. It was taken around the post at her back twelve times until, holding her as tight as possible against the post, it was tied off securely. She gasped against the gag and tried to squirm against her bonds, but the only movement she could make was to bend her head forward in sorry submission. Tears filled her eyes as she awaited her unknown punishment.
One of the men scrambled up the gantry and leant over the edge, awaiting instructions. Another unwrapped a long loose hose made of animal skin that led up to the water butt at the top of the gantry.
There was a moment of silence. The line of naked women stood still. Sappho could not pull herself closer to the grill so instead pushed her hands through the grating. She lifted herself slightly and, sitting back fully on Chryseis' fingers, pushed her feet through as well. The feeling of her hands and feet hanging out over the courtyard - there to be seen if anyone looked - sent new thrills of joy through her body. She shivered and shook with excitement. She sat back heavily onto Chryseis' fingers, now pushed even further into the welcoming flesh of her wet vagina.