The movement had been too fast to follow, and Cianna could only squeak in shock and scramble hastily back out of the way of her mistress’s frantically kicking legs. Sulitea fought, screaming and scratching and threatening and begging, none of which made the least difference. Aeisla held her down easily, one handed, as her skirts and petticoats where lifted, her drawers and pantalettes pulled open, to expose her meaty white bottom. At that Sulitea went wild, thrashing crazily, but to no avail as Aisla cocked a knee up between her victim’s thighs, spreading the ample white buttocks to display both tuppenny and bottom ring, still wet with Cianna’s spittle.
‘Shall I… shall I fetch an implement?’ Cianna enquired, certain that Aeisla could not be about to inflict the ultimate indignity of a bare bottomed hand spanking.
‘No,’ Aeisla answered coolly. ‘I often used to spank her by hand before, and I shall do so now.’
‘No, Aeisla, this is unreasonable!’ Sulitea blustered. ‘Not in front of my maid, Aeisla! I mean it! No!’
The last word trailed off in despair as Aeisla’s hand smacked firmly down on Sulitea’s naked bottom. The spanking began, firm and steady, Aeisla’s palm applied hard to Sulitea’s quivering cheeks. Cianna could only watch, mouth open in shock, trying to hide her delight at seeing her mistress spanked, and in such an ignominious way. Sulitea cheeks were well flared, showing everything, sex agape, bumhole winking in her pain, the chubby buttocks wobbling and bouncing, their milk-white skin turning rapidly pink.
Nor did Sulitea take it well, wriggling and squealing with no more dignity than any spanked peasant girl. She complained though, bitterly, in between her squeals of pain, alternately begging Aeisla to stop and threatening revenge. Aeisla took no notice, spanking merrily away until at last Sulitea’s cries turned to sobs. At that Aeisla laughed, cocked her knee higher still to further spread her victim’s thighs and casually pushed two fingers into Sulitea’s sex. Sulitea groaned miserably, but she had stopped fighting.
Aeisla began to masturbate her victim, using her fingers to rub at Sulitea’s clitoris and all the while pushing her thumb in and out of the wet vagina. In no time Sulitea’s disconsolate little sobs had changed to sighs of pleasure, ending in a long, ecstatic scream as she was once more brought to orgasm. She was dropped immediately, to sit down on her hot bottom with a bump. Aeisla was grinning, indifferent to the look of angry reproach on Sulitea’s face.
‘Now, Cianna,’ Aeisla said, ‘if you wish, you may lick my tuppenny, but not as a servant, as a friend.’
‘I can never be anything more than a servant,’ Cianna answered. ‘Not to you.’
‘I was a maid all my life,’ Aeisla replied, ‘to the Demoiselle Elethrine Korismund. Surely Sulitea has told you this?’
‘Yes,’ Cianna admitted.
‘Then why so timid?’ Aeisla demanded, starting to pull up her skirts.
Cianna shrugged, pulling herself around and crawling closer as Aeisla spilt her drawers to reveal a rich tangle of deep red curls with the moist pink flesh of her sex clearly visible at the centre. Cianna could smell the rich, feminine scent, and found herself wanting to do it, both for pleasure and to abase herself before the woman who had dared to spank her mistress. Yet still she glanced at Sulitea.
‘Do it,’ Sulitea ordered. ‘Why not? Now you have seen me thoroughly humiliated. Aeisla, now that you are a Reeveling you must seek to maintain respect for your rank among the low-born, mine also.’
Aeisla merely laughed, and reached out to take Cianna gently by the hair. Cianna went with the pressure, allowing her head to be pulled in to Aeisla’s sex, rubbing her face in the wet folds before starting to lick. Aeisla’s sex was neat, but her clitoris big, like the tip of finger, and upright, in the manner of a tiny, erect cock. Cianna kissed it, and sucked it in between her lips, making Aeisla gasp.
‘Beautiful, she is good,’ Aeisla said. ‘Come, Sulitea, pull up her skirts, lick her bottom for her while she does me.’
‘I will do no such thing!’ Sulitea snapped.
‘She is haughty isn’t she,’ Aeisla addressed Cianna, ‘and powerful too, but at heart she is gentle and a slut as well. Yes, like that. Now lower.’
Guessing what was wanted, Cianna dipped her tongue, dabbing at the tightly knotted flesh of Aeisla’s bottom hole. She began to clean the little ring, with her gratitude and loyalty rising all the while, glad to be performing such an intimate service, proud that she should be permitted to do it.
‘There, Sulitea,’ Aeisla said, ‘she is cleaning my bottom ring, as she did yours. You are a good girl, Cianna. Now higher again, make me come.’
Cianna obeyed immediately, lapping firmly at Aeisla’s clitoris, to elicit a gasp, then a long, low moan of pleasure. Aeisla came, full in Cianna’s face, calling out in her ecstasy with her eyes closed. The orgasm faded only slowly, Cianna still licking until at last Aeisla pushed her head gently away.
‘There,’ Aeisla remarked, ‘now we should all get on perfectly.’
As dusk began to fall, Cianna found herself growing rapidly more frightened. If Sulitea had seemed less than awe inspiring bent red-bottomed across Aeisla’s lap, Cianna’s respect had quickly returned. Working casually, with no more concern that Cianna had shown in making the evening meal, Sulitea had summoned a colossal winged demon, a hideous, neckless thing with vast, leathery wings, which now crouched on the meadow. Unable to meet its malevolent red eyes, Cianna had stayed in the spire, pretending to go over the provisions which had been brought up from the village. Even Aeisla was clearly scared, feigning nonchalance, but staying well clear of the demon as she assembled a broad wooden cage to Sulitea’s instructions.
Finally, Cianna was forced to approach the hideous being, to help lift the cage into place on its broad back and secure it with broad leather straps. Twice she touched its flesh, finding it cold and dry, quite unlike any ordinary creature. All the while it watched her, brilliant red eyes the size of her fists following her every move, so that when the time finally came to climb aboard she found her fear tempered by relief at being able to avoid its gaze.
Sat in the cage, she gripped the bars, Aeisla also, Sulitea standing at the front whispering to the demon, and using a long stick to tickle the it behind the ears. The cage shuddered, Cianna clutching her necklace as the demon pulled itself to its feet, its vast leathery wings unfolding to either side. She began to mumble prayers, her fingers flicking the little tooth cages along their thong. Sulitea called out and the demon began to walk, slow, long steps, each of which sent a shudder through the cage.
It turned, its back to Sulitea’s spire, the meadow in front, a long line of grey-green with the darker woods to either side, ending in nothing where the ground fell away towards the village. Beyond was air, with distant mountains lit red as the setting sun caught their snow capped peaks, Cianna’s last sight as she shut her eyes tight.
Sulitea called out, the demon once more began to walk, faster, breaking into a lumbering trot, a run, as fast as a man, as fast as a horse, impossibly fast with the air ripping at Cianna’s clothes and hair. She clutched at the cage, screaming her fear into the wind as the demon hurled itself into the air, screaming again as the whole world tilted to one side. Her bladder burst in her terror, to spray piddle out between her thighs as the great demon turned on the air, swinging slowly towards the south.
All night Cianna rode the demon, gripping the bars of the ride cage in stark fear. No disaster overtook them, and in the face of Sulitea’s open amusement she gradually relaxed. By dawn she had managed to gain enough control of herself to change her soiled dress and prepare breakfast, but with her eyes half-lidded to prevent herself from seeing outside the cage.
Aeisla had recovered more quickly, peering down from the edge of the cage with interest and occasionally exclaiming at some feature visible far below. At last Cianna’s curiosity overcame her fear, and she crawled to the edge, peering down only to jerk sharply back at the sight of blue sea and jagged grey peaks an impossible distance below her.<
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Over the next two days her confidence rose slowly. The demon flew in long glides, broken by periods of climbing at places were warm air rose from the land below. Its broad back was stable, and still, save for the rare times when it was obliged to flex its wings. Even the rushing wind became familiar, and by the evening of the second day, while kneeling between Sulitea’s spread thighs and busy with her tongue, she even managed to briefly forget where she was.
Sea passed beneath them, changing in tone from grey to green to blue, and land, jagged mountains, red desert. At one point two great volcanos were seen, on either side of a narrow strait, with smoke issuing from craters at their summits. On another an island appeared, with a round bay, in which rode ships seemingly no larger than toys. At noon on the third day they found themselves above a low green coast, which Sulitea declared to be the continent of Cypraea.
Choosing an island with no evidence of human habitation, Sulitea brought the demon down in a great spiral, Cianna keeping her eyes tight shut until at last the motion ceased. She opened them to find the demon squatting on a beach of fine golden sand, with blue sea to one side and tall trees each bearing a cluster of spiky fronds to the other. Sulitea was whispering to the demon, Aeisla fanning herself with a hand against the sudden heat.
‘He is stable,’ Sulitea declared, swinging open the door of the cage. ‘Come down.’
She jumped to the sand, paused to scratch the demon behind an ear and strolled up the beach, Aeisla and Cianna following.
‘Food first,’ Sulitea said, ‘and perhaps a wash in the sea… but what extraordinary fruit! Look, Aeisla, like a parade of yellow cocks, each prouder than the last!’
‘They are called bananas,’ Aeisla replied. ‘I saw them in Apraya. It is the fruit from which Babalyn N’Jukolana made that fiery spirit. They are good to eat also.’
Cianna looked up at the bananas, some four times her own height above her head. Sulitea whistled, made a complex gesture with her hands, and one great wing unfurled from the demon’s side, rising, to hook a clawed tip around the stem of the banana bunch, which landed with a thump in the sand. Sulitea took one, bit it and made a face.
‘You remove the skin first,’ Aeisla explained.
‘I see,’ Sulitea answered as Aeisla demonstrated. ‘Even more like a cock. Hmm, a better taste though. Delicious in fact. Now, by my reckoning Makea is some four to five hundreds of leagues to the south and west. This means, that should we rise aloft at dusk, eight to ten hours of flight will bring us to the Makean coast in the dead hours of night, with only two moons in the sky, one gibbous but both low. Thus we keep the risk of observation to a minimum.’
Aeisla shrugged in response.
‘Once there,’ Sulitea went on. ‘I will banish the demon and in the morning we will claim to be the victims of a shipwreck. None will have reason to disbelieve us. After all, how else would we be there, three women alone on a strange shore?’
‘Might they not guess?’ Aeisla queried.
‘Unlikely,’ Sulitea answered. ‘It is the habit to men to assume inferior intelligence in others, women especially. Besides, we must be meek, submissive, feigning awe. Obviously we say nothing of our true intentions, to anyone. Praise them, flirt with them, take them to bed, but choose carefully. You will wish to court savants, or high warriors perhaps, maybe skilled artisans, those likely to have the knowledge we need.’
‘And if they simply take us as slaves?’ Aeisla demanded.
‘Why you should assume them to be slavers I do not know,’ Sulitea said, ‘but if they are, what matter? Those rich enough to purchase us are likely to know the secret. If not, behave badly. Dissatisfied, they will pass us on.’
‘Doubtless after a good whipped,’ Aeisla responded. ‘You make it sound so simple, as if we were on a hunting expedition! What if we become separated? What if we are put in a seraglio, like the one at Vendjome, with only girls bred for pleasure as company?’
‘Naturally we must accommodate ourselves to circumstances. Rely on me. In the case of extremity I will merely scry for you, summon, collect you both and we try our luck elsewhere.’
Aeisla sighed and shook her head.
‘Explain to me, please Mistresses,’ Cianna asked. ‘What is this slavery we risk?’
‘It is an abomination!’ Aeisla answered immediately. ‘A vile foreign habit! Men and women are sold, for money, as if they were cattle! It is hideous, unthinkable! In…’
‘All this is true,’ Sulitea broke in, ‘but it misses the point. To be a slave is a thing of the mind, a concept valid only if the person enslaved believes it so. To be sold as a slave does not make you a slave, as Aeisla well knows, from experience. So long as you are free in your mind you are free, no matter how many chains weigh you down.’
Cianna stared blankly, understanding nothing of Sulitea’s explanation, as was so often the case.
‘Let me explain,’ Aeisla. ‘You have given your oath of fealty to Sulitea, yes?’
‘Yes,’ Cianna agreed.
‘Yet if some Thane or Reeve where to mistake you for another girl, a vassal of their own, it would not make you so, would it?’
‘No.’
‘Then there we are. You know you are Sulitea’s vassal. Just so, as you would know you are Sulitea’s maid, if taken in slavery, you would know you are free, whatever others may think. ’
Cianna nodded doubtfully.
‘In truth,’ Sulitea went on, ‘it occurs to me that the distinction between our system of fealty and slavery is more limited than we care to believe. The primary distinction is that the exchange of oaths replaces the giving of money…’
‘An oath given freely!’ Aeisla broke in. ‘To one deserving of loyalty! The difference is absolute!’
‘It is conceptual, no more,’ Sulitea insisted. ‘In practise, the relationship is the same, an obligation to obedience within a system of law crafted by those in authority…’
Cianna picked up a banana and began to peel it, feeling both awed and confused. Sulitea and Aeisla continued to talk, in an increasingly heated argument which Cianna was unable to follow. Soon she had stopped even trying, instead looking out across the blue sea to where some huge fish or even a monster had briefly broken surface.
She lay back, resting her head on her arm, thinking of how awed her friends and family would be when she returned to Boreal. Her eldest brother had been to Aegerion, where the High-Prince of Aegmund held court, a journey of some three hundred leagues. Sulitea had said they were some three thousand leagues to the south, ten times as far, and in a land almost totally unknown. Better still, she would be able to say she had ridden a demon, without having to reveal how terrified she had been.
With the sun striking long shadows from the banana palms, they once more took to the air. The demon ran into the evening breeze, out along a spit of sand exposed by the tide, then over water, tearing up spray with its great claws until it finally managed to wrench itself into the air. Flapping ponderously, with the girls clinging against the heave and twitch of the great muscles which controlled the upstroke of the wings, it rose above the island in a great spiral, using what little heat was still rising from the land to gain altitude. Throughout, Sulitea whispered to it, urging it to greater effort, until at last she stood back, the demon banking to the west before settling into a glide.
‘When we leave Makea,’ she stated, ‘remind me to summon on a hillside. Now, supper, a little play, then rest. Cianna, fetch out the last of the mead.’
Cianna hastened to obey, going about her tasks kneeling, with her legs well splayed, for balance. Making up plates of dried meat garnished with a pickle of fruit and vegetables, she served both girls then herself, while the flask of mead was passed between Sulitea and Aeisla.
The meal was finished with the sun its own breadth above the western horizon and the land in the east no more than a dim line of dull grey-green. Licking the last of the pickle from her fingers, Cianna knelt back, waiting to see what was expected of her. Sulitea licked
her lips and gave a quick glance to the west before speaking.
‘This evening, Cianna,’ she declared, ‘you shall provide us with a little show, masturbating with the bananas. We will watch, until we are ready, when you may lick us both.’
‘Yes, Mistress,’ Cianna answered, blushing.
‘Come then, up with your dress and in with a banana!’
Cianna responded hesitantly, lifting her knees to get her dress high enough, then peeling a banana from the bunch. Sulitea was watching, smiling openly, Aeisla too. Trying to push her sense of duty over her embarrassment, Cianna pulled up her dress, exposing her sex. Pressing the banana to her tuppenny, she began to rub, sliding the smooth, firm skin up between her lips and over her clitoris.
‘Put it in yourself, I said,’ Sulitea ordered.
Shutting her eyes, Cianna knelt right back, sticking out her sex towards the watching girls. With the banana in her hand, she felt for the hole of her vagina. She was moist, and the tip slid in easily, followed by the thick yellow shaft as she pushed it up, her flesh opening to accept it. She sighed, imagining it as the feel of a cock, or one of the carved dildos Sulitea occasionally fucked her with.
‘Now on your knees,’ Sulitea said. ‘Come, little one, bottom up. Aeisla help me.’
Cianna opening her eyes to find Sulitea sat cross legged with her skirts rucked up to her waist and her drawers and pantalettes split wide to expose the plump, yellow furred mound of her sex. Aeisla was beside Sulitea, a hand on her friend’s belly, then burrowing down. Cianna turned over, lifting her bottom as she caught the wet sound of Aeisla masturbating Sulitea and a little cry of pleasure.
On her knees, Cianna reached back, feeding the banana in and out of her open tuppenny. Her embarrassment was still there, but fading behind the need to please her Mistress and to come herself. Pausing, with the banana held firmly in her sex, she made quick work of unlacing her bodice, letting her breasts tumble free.
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