by Syra Bond
Sappho could only watch. She ached with the frustration. Her stomach churned with the anxiety caused by frustrated need.
The thrashing continued. The girl began shrieking, but as the red stripes on her buttocks blended into a solid crimson daub her screams grew less. Suddenly she drooped loosely in Wang's grip.
'She fails us,' said Agamemnon, making himself more comfortable on his chair. 'You have brought out no pleasure in her, Master Praxis. Show me your art. Show me how you draw out the desires of these beautiful young things. Show me what you promised. Do not show me that you can simply beat them into submission. I can do that with a dog!'
He laughed and nodded to Ajax, who was himself beginning to feel angry with Praxis.
Wang released the girl and she fell to the floor. He brought out a second girl, but again the cane only overcame her with pain. She, like the first, fell to the floor panting, not with delight, but with exhaustion.
Sappho watched and listened to the swishing crack of the cane, but she too felt unsatisfied. The beating promised her so much and gave so little. The girls' bottoms were marked with reddening stripes, but nothing more. They looked beautiful as they were lined up for their punishment, but their beauty fell aside as they were overcome with the pain of Praxis' brutality.
Wang had one of the girls suspended by the ankles on a tripod of spears. She spun giddily on the rope that held her. When she was thrashed she shouted out for mercy. But again, she collapsed under the terrible thrashing before any of her own pleasure had come to the surface. Her pain inflamed Sappho, brought her to the brink, but her collapse under the strain of Praxis' harshness delivered only disappointment. Sappho needed more, and it was not available.
Agamemnon became agitated. He sat forward in his chair, then sat back. He picked at his fingernails and ordered slave girls to bring him more wine. Praxis sensed his king's discomfort, and was desperate to dispel it.
They had a crucifix of spears built. The next girl was tied to it with her arms outspread and her feet bound together. She was whipped across the breasts and stomach. But it was to no avail. She too soon dropped her head, simply overcome by the pain delivered by the cane of Praxis.
They hung the last girl upside down on the crucifix, facing the spears with her legs stretched wide on the crossbar. She shrieked loudly as the cane cut into her buttocks, and spit ran copiously from her mouth. Praxis caned downwards across her exposed crack, slashing at her vulnerable flesh. Still, she too faded under the penetrating pain with no sign of the release of joy that had been promised.
'I do not see the finesse you have promised, Master Praxis,' said Agamemnon angrily. 'You waste these young beauties on a simple thrashing. And now you have none left. It is lucky I am compassionate. I will let you practise on my new prize. But I warn you, I am not here to be dissatisfied. And so far that is all I have been.'
They let the cage down, released Sappho and brought her in. She looked around, suddenly fearful to find herself out of the confines of the cage and in the presence of the angry Agamemnon. Master Wang wrapped his arm around her waist as he had done to the first girl. He held the cane across her buttocks, levelling it for Praxis so that his aim would be precise.
Sappho trembled. The cane felt so thin against her taut skin. She waited for it to be drawn away, anticipating the swish that would herald its cutting bite across her buttocks. She tightened them in anticipation. Praxis pulled the cane back. Sappho bit her lip and waited.
Suddenly she jumped as she heard Agamemnon's booming voice.
'The binding, Master Praxis,' he shouted mockingly. 'You forget your own recommendation. The camel's toes. The trussing which brings forth such delights.' He turned to Ajax. 'Such delights as we have not yet seen. Praxis, you forget your own advice! Has your brain gone the same way as your sight?'
Praxis pushed at Wang angrily, keen to transfer the blame for his own negligence and embarrassment.
'You are right, lord,' he said falteringly. 'I forgot. My assistant is trained to remind me. You can be sure he will be punished. But I promise you, my lord, the true delights are yet to be seen.'
Agamemnon waved a hand dismissively.
Master Wang took a thong and wound it tightly around Sappho's waist. She felt the cutting fineness of it as he pulled it tight. He knotted to it another in the small of her back. This he fed down between her buttocks. He let it dangle as he went to her front. She felt it hanging between her thighs. He reached between her thighs and pulled it through, bringing it up sharply between her buttocks and her labia. He prised her sex open with his fingers, wound the thong once around her prominent clitoris and pulled it into a knot. Sappho's eyes widened as he worked. A deep burning sensation entered her body and, as if she imagined she could somehow escape it, she rose against its pressure. She opened her mouth and breathed in deeply. Wang tugged at the thong, testing its security, then wound the free end into the waist a little below her navel, the knot tightening further around her clitoris.
He pushed her against two of the girls who were now standing, side by side, shivering with fear. Sappho's arms draped across each of their shoulders as she fell forward. She felt the warmth of their breasts against her own, and the smoothness of their cheeks next to hers. Their touch was light, their skin soft, pliant and silky. She felt their shivering bodies. She felt their anxiety.
'It is unbearable,' one of them whispered in her ear. 'His viciousness is unbearable. Nothing but pain.' Sappho shuddered at her words.
The trembling girls were instructed to hold her as Wang brought Praxis behind her. Again he positioned the cane carefully. He lined it up halfway down her buttocks and held it there until the blind man was sure of its position.
Sappho felt the girls' grip tighten on her arms as the first slashing cut came down. It stung deeply - a narrow band of burning pain. The second came down, cutting into her skin. She jumped and opened her mouth. She heard the swishing of the third before it struck, and when it did she shrieked. The girls held her tight. They knew what she was feeling. Sappho shrieked again when the fourth bit, and louder with the fifth. Each vicious contact made her shriek louder, each slash preceded even more angst.
She felt nothing but pain. It spread over her like a raging fire. She heard Praxis grunting with the effort. She heard Wang encouraging him to strike harder, more quickly. She gripped the girls' shoulders as she felt her legs weakening, sagging. Suddenly her knees gave way. She dropped fully into the girls' arms. She hung limply, panting, her mouth open, gasping for air.
Praxis was aware that she had suffered too much. He realised he had failed to ignite her pleasure, that he had extinguished it with too much brutality. He felt desperate to redeem himself. He reached forward and gripped the thong where it disappeared between her buttocks. He twisted but she barely moved, completely overcome with the pain that filled her body. She was unable to sense any delights her body contained. She was unable to detect the joy that now lay buried beneath her agonised senses.
Praxis stood staring blindly around, holding the cane uselessly, his face filled with anger and anxiety. Wang took his arm, but did not lead him anywhere. He simply held him, shoring him up, as if he needed assistance to stand.
The girls released Sappho. She fell to the ground in a heap. She lay face down and spread-eagled, panting hard. Her buttocks were covered in the angry red stripes inflicted by the cane.
'So again you disappoint me, Master Praxis,' said Agamemnon, finally stirring on his chair. 'Your promises have come to nothing.' He turned. 'And Ajax, you disappoint me too. I thought you had your slave dog from Troy much better trained. He is no better as a slave trainer than he would be as a ship's lookout. Does he not realise he must tease out pleasure from pain?'
Ajax jumped up angrily and snatched the cane from Praxis. 'You blind fool!' he shouted. 'I should have killed you instead of only blinding you. Here. Give me this. I will show you how to thrash a woman!'
He knelt behind Sappho and lashed the cane down several times on he
r buttocks. She flinched but that was all. The pain had sunk too deeply for her to feel any more.
Ajax rounded on Praxis.
'You idiot! You waste a good woman too. Look, she has nothing left to offer. You have buried the pleasure she contains. You do not deserve a position with me. Your reputation is a joke. I will have you driven out of our camp.'
Sappho started to crawl away. Ajax saw her and picked up a spear. He held it above her. She cowered and covered her face with trembling hands. She thought she had met her end. He threw the spear, barely missing her head as it went deep into the ground. He pulled her to her feet and held her in front of him. He was unable to contain his anger. He shook her mercilessly.
Agamemnon got up, smiling, and took hold of Ajax's arm.
Ajax slowly released his grip on Sappho. She dropped to her knees, quaking with fear.
'This one shall not cause any more trouble here today,' said Agamemnon. 'Ajax, calm yourself. Come, we will find some other entertainment. Master Wang, secure this "prize" to Ajax's spear. And cage her when you leave. Perhaps your Master Praxis will advise you on the bindings which will best keep her in her place. If he cannot, then decide yourself.'
He laughed loudly, and with his arm draping Ajax's shoulders, they both left.
They had barely gone before Praxis dropped his head back and roared like a bull. He struck out in every direction, flailing his arms, knocking Wang to the ground. He nearly struck Calliope but she managed to duck away just in time. He sensed her presence, made a grab for her and managed to seize her by the hair.
'Wang!' he yelled in frustration. 'Tie this one to the crucifix of spears. I will teach her a lesson. She shall measure my anger by the level of her pain. She will suffer for the humiliation that Ajax has brought on me today. And he will not be free of my vengeance. I promise that. I have suffered at his hands twice now and that is too much. Next time it is Ajax who will feel the wrath of Praxis!'
Sappho lay still and watched as Calliope was bound to the crucifix of spears. Her lithe body hung to one side, tipping her shapely hips out at an angle. The pose furrowed the delightful creases at the tops of her thighs. It squeezed her sex lips and accentuated their fleshy softness.
Praxis removed the spear Ajax had thrust into the ground. He felt its length and the thickness of the shaft. He cocked his head to one side and sniffed the air. 'Fetch some strips of hide,' he ordered.
Some was brought and he bound it carefully over the blunt end of the heavy spear. He held it in place with several turns of thin leather strapping.
Wang led him to the bound Calliope. Filled with apprehension she tensed as he got nearer. He held the leather-covered end of the spear in front of her face, knowing where it was by the sound of her panting. He cocked his head to the side and listened again. He sniffed the air and inhaled deeply.
Sappho watched as, suddenly, Praxis lowered the spear and thrust it between Calliope's legs. She reared up on her bonds, but they were too tight for her to get away. The leather-covered end of the shaft squeezed between the tops of her thighs. It opened the flesh of her sex, prising it to each side, exposing the pinkness of its inner leaves, revealing the glistening wetness of its interior.
Praxis twisted the spear. She squirmed on it, holding herself away. Sappho could see though that she was finding it difficult not to give in to the need to drop onto it, to have it penetrate her more. Praxis turned the spear as he pushed, and her open mouth and drooping shoulders betrayed her surrender to its joyous power.
'Ajax will not make a fool of me again, I swear it,' he ranted as he twisted the spear and began thrusting it rhythmically into Calliope's vagina. 'And I will not be bettered by any slave!'
He forced the padded end of the spear into her. She gasped at its bulk and depth of penetration. The leather covering glistened with her moisture as he pulled it back, and she gasped again as he forced it deeper. She fell back onto Agamemnon's mighty chair, her legs wide, her arms draped on the clawed armrests. Praxis kept thrusting, and with Calliope against the back of the chair the penetration was even deeper. She called out, her voice rising and lowering according to whether the spear was being thrust in or drawn out of her.
'Master Praxis,' she gasped. 'Master Praxis... I can help you... I can help you gain revenge... Master Praxis...'
She struggled for breath. She begged again, more urgently.
'Master Praxis... I can help you... I have learned of Ajax's greatest pleasure... I can tell you what it is... He could be weakened by it... I could tell you... If you set me free... I could tell you, Master Praxis...'
Sappho, still on the ground, gripped the thong that led up from between her sex lips, from its tight encirclement of her engorged clitoris. She pulled first, testing the pain it brought. She jerked it to see how much it could inflict. She fixed her eyes on Calliope - her wet sex, the thrusting spear - and twisted the ligature harder, more fiercely. But it was Calliope's treachery which excited her just as much as the sight of her suffering and of her pleasure. She felt a wave of delight spread over her at the thought of Calliope's deceit. The idea of such treachery filled her with joy. She had not experienced the feeling before, and she was elated by it and by its novelty. She too wanted to deceive, to mislead, to draw someone into her own trap. She drew the thong higher. The thoughts which filled her head demanded more pain, more delight, more abuse.
Praxis suddenly stopped. He held the spear where it was. Its bound leather end glistened at the entrance to Calliope's fleshy pink sex. He bent his head forward, breathing hard, licking his lips. He placed his ear by her mouth and listened as she explained her plan. He smiled, grabbed the spear again and began thrusting her eagerly, and this time Calliope's screams were screams of pleasure, of released joy, of ecstasy.
Sappho pulled at the thong that gripped her clitoris. She held it so tightly she began to cry. Tears flowed as, together with Calliope screeching for mercy and relief, she jerked with a massive jolt of finally released and joyous rapture.
Sappho was pushed back into the cage. She knelt on its base, bent over, her buttocks high, her elbows squashed against her breasts, her hands against her cheeks. As Praxis was led out by Wang she watched Calliope getting up out of Agamemnon's chair. She was truly beautiful. She squatted over a bucket and urinated. The shimmering flow caused Sappho to drool. She tried to reach one of her hands away from her face, but she was so tightly fixed in the cage it was impossible to move. She stared at Calliope, her legs bent, her elbows on her open knees, the golden flow of urine streaming into the bowl. Sappho trembled as she concentrated on what she saw, which allowed, at first, a trickle of joy, and then a streaming flow of unheralded ecstasy. She did not move as it welled over her, she did not need to. Simply watching the last squirts of urine splattering into the bowl overpowered her. Silently and without moving she was completely overcome by the unstoppable flood of an orgasm born from deep inside her very being. It was what had been held back by the pain of the caning. It was all that had built up from her suffering and humiliation in the cage. It was a deluge. It was complete. She stared at Calliope as it ran through her, tearing at every part of her. She imagined herself lying on her back, her face peering up between Calliope's legs. She imagined Calliope's urine splashing on her cheeks, into her eyes, running into her nostrils. She opened her mouth, thinking of it being filled. Her orgasm was renewed. She shivered all over as it took control and led her into a new paradise of overwhelming rapture.
Chapter 16
Sappho's suffering continues
Agamemnon had Sappho kept in the small cage every day, tightly confined, swinging on the chain in the glaring heat. Sometimes the constant movement made her dizzy. Sometimes she felt so hot and claustrophobic she thought she would faint. But although she suffered from the burning heat of the sun during the day, she dreaded even more the evening and its passing. After sunset Agamemnon allowed her to be taken around the encampment so that any soldier who wished could use her in any way he chose. His men enjoyed her
as a bonus for their allegiance, and were all the more unswerving in their devotion to Agamemnon because of it.
She was abused and humiliated in different ways each time. Sometimes she was thrashed with a cane. Sometimes she was passed from one group to another. They bound her and filled her with their cocks, sometimes one, sometimes several at a time. They tied her to stakes, or a crucifix of spears, and stuffed their cocks into her mouth. They covered her face with semen. Often they used her for buk-ka-ke and left her all night covered in their sticky fluid. Some nights she was bound and hung from the side of a ship. Sometimes staked to the ground and doused repeatedly with buckets of water. She was tied in every way possible. Often she was left for hours with rope contorting her body into strained and unbearable shapes.
One night as she hung, bound to a stake, soaked and dripping with water which had been thrown over her for hours, she heard some soldiers talking in whispers. They spoke of Achilles' rage. How, angered by Agamemnon's theft of his 'prize', he had returned to his tent and sworn never again to fight alongside Agamemnon. The soldiers said that without Achilles there could never be any victory at Troy. They said that the Myrmidons, disheartened by Achilles' withdrawal, were talking of leaving and, if they did, the campaign at Troy was as good as over.
Agamemnon strutted back and forth across his tent. His brother Menelaus sprawled on a couch. Agamemnon flung his goblet to the ground and struck a naked slave girl who tried to retrieve it. She dropped to her knees and clung to his tunic, begging for mercy, asking what she could do to please him. He looked down at her. She shivered with fear, her long red hair hanging down to her small breasts. He grabbed her hair and pulled her to her feet. She shivered with excitement and her nipples hardened at his touch.