Swaying unsteadily, she found her chain being ratcheted up by a Nubidian slave, a handsome creature with a fine mauve cock, who formed part of Sefket's entourage. The elevation was trivial but hard on the wrists. Then she understood the reason, for the ankles were drawn apart and strapped to a spreader bar, a contrivance that had figured abundantly during the already distant days of tutelage under Damiana. Only now, the extended toes could not reach the flagstones, thus increasing the tension on the wrists - again deliberate.
Suddenly, she saw the Equerry nod to his two slavering whores. Hardly bothering to lubricate their ribbed dildos, the two bitches drove into her, back and front. Inured so far only to single insertions, Silvana felt the shafts bludgeoning each other on either side of the frail membrane within her entrails, and found it far from displeasing as an experience. What riled her was the way in which the slut facing her, bit into the breasts but that was compensated by the one behind encircling the thighs to twist the clit ring; the wrench at least helped Silvana's vagina to complete what had been long since threatening to explode.
Nevertheless, neither bitch took any account of the welts throbbing down the length of their scourged victim. Spitting oaths, they simply bored in to her, their hot breath seething around her throat and neck. Silvana began to thrash her head about, as if still being whipped. A frantic lust built up in the welted body, gathering like one of those thunderous gales descending from the Bithynian heights, charioting fire and hectic lightning.
The first orgasm soared only too readily, the slave's ravings filling the precinct. If Damiana had long since become accustomed to those unbridled outbursts, the gracious noble, his jewelled fingers buried in his silks, seemed taken aback, as were his guests - even those males deeply engaged in an orifice of some marchioness, countess or naked mistress.
Silvana's following three spasms erupted powerfully in mounting succession and despoiled what remained of the well-whipped nude. Like a famished kestrel, she hovered a moment and then swooped into her fourth climax, that seemed to carry her away with her shrieks into the night, far beyond Zahra and its moonlit coastline. Beyond all recall.
The violence of the orgasms astonished even the two sluts ramming into her, and all present knew how they spilled their juice. The horned dildos rasping their clits brought them both off in turn with hoarse screams. Nothing sent them faster and more surely over into the abyss than reaming the orifices of a helpless, extenuated, nude slave they whipped raw.
Only vaguely did the quivering blonde feel the dildos withdrawing from her lower cavities, dredging out with them the engorged whorls of crimson sex meat. Yet, she was just conscious enough to see one of the tousled heads - that of the slag who had split her left nipple - kneel before Menthif to fumble with the man's cock. Still throbbing in extension, Silvana stared at the object through her tears -- a midget of a penis, like the stub of a spent candle. Although it barely reached beyond the repulsive concubine's teeth, she somehow managed to fellate what there was of it. At least, she tugged hard on the shrivelled ball-sack.
No one, apart from the whores and Silvana, paid much attention to the grotesque performance and when finally the Equerry groaned and jerked, it was clear the evening's entertainment had drawn to its close.
The Flagellation, as the séance was called, was over.
Fully content, His Lordship rose, bid the company goodnight and strolled out of the chamber, an arm of diaphanous silk round each of his sweating pythons who, Damiana knew from gossip, could look forward to the bullwhip and flesh tongs in the competent hands of Menthif's three devoted eunuchs. After all, they deserved a reward for their labours.
Saletha also departed, sexually exhausted, to do what she could for the remainder of the night with Rainer, leaving her colleague, Damiana, to free the haggard victim and see to it the maids cleaned up the precinct, raked the sand and doused the candelabra.
Still adrift in another world, Silvana somehow managed to follow her former overseer to a sage-green bedchamber with, in its centre, the exquisite four-poster that Sefket had allotted to her, together with a velvet-sheathed flogging stake, equipped with golden fetters.
Contrary to what she had expected, she was allowed to sleep, a restoration she sorely needed. Stroking the blonde hair, Damiana let her rest, gazing at the length of whipped flesh.
An hourglass or two later, Silvana awoke to find her companion lapping off the sweat and congealed blood from her buttocks before turning her around to suck the slit breast teat clean. The caresses enlivened the blonde enough to watch through the open casement the magnificent dawn breaking over the eastern hills and hear the first birds chirping gaily - they at least, safe in their nests, had passed a more reposeful evening than she.
"Now, treasure, you're free for Thanon," said the sleek one beside her. "May the holy Locrana, the mighty Phranis and whatever gods you still believe in, after what you've just been through, guide your steps. You own a very sensual and gifted body, and not only when it's writhing in ecstasy under the lash. You will go far, Silvana." She stretched out her long legs over the sheets and smiled, smoothing the girl's fair tresses back behind the delicate ears.
"Now, my gorgeous profligate, since they didn't use your tongue, do as I say and lick me off. Then, I'll attend to your lash marks..."
Listlessly, the girl rose from the divine silks, knowing she was on her way towards a new future in the roiling cauldron of Bithynia the Magnificent. Whatever the untrustworthy deities - and her Thanon - had in store for her, she was determined to seize her chance and grasp it tight, just as now she grasped and parted the woman's muscular thighs squelching open before her. She leaned forward over the neatly-groomed crotch, her tongue quivering nervously, and, as the first rays of the sun rose, went to work with what energy she had left.
It was well past midday when the turbaned Haroun bowed himself into Damiana's retreat to announce to the senior of the two enlaced bodies that the girl was awaited in Thanon's chambers. "But first, I am ordered to remove the ring from the slave's clitoris."
The Promotion
The reference to her bearded master, together with the incredible idea of being relieved of that pernicious ring of metal that kept her almost permanently on heat, made Silvana almost leap from Damiana's silken sheets.
"Off with you, sweet one," the well-contented one smiled. "Come and see me sometime down below. Anyway, if my hunch is right, you'll be with me again very soon for more training. But this time of a very different and exciting sort from what you've had."
Silvana returned the smouldering smile and followed the eunuch out on to the sunlit terrace. Astonished her wrist straps were for once not linked to the neck band, she was led down into the depths of the palace, following Haroun who, even more surprisingly, did not clip a lead to her clit ring. Although the breasts had long since been released, to slap down into their normal position, she felt more heavily busted than ever before. Despite Damiana's attentions with soothing spikenard, each step she took caused the thrashed, throbbing undersides to scuff against the ribs. But her elation helped her to ignore the pain, as she did her best to keep up with the man.
At one point, descending a dimly-lit ramp that seemed all too familiar, she thought she saw Carmela and Pervez hanging suspended from iron hooks in adjacent alcoves hewn out of the masonry. But the heads being hooded, she could not be sure, although the massive hips and breasts in the first recess and the superb erect cock in the second seemed to be attributes she had frequently fondled. In any event, Haroun gave her no chance of a closer look; nor did she wish, being unchained, to annoy him by dawdling. Moreover, in the billowing folds of the eunuch's pajamas the scourge hung close at hand, and Silvana felt she had enough leather - at least for the moment. The slope finally led into a sombre hallway and that was even more familiar. The Preparation Cellar brought back mixed memories of the piercing and ringing so long ago, and of Kitana and Britta hissing l
ike wild cats. Again, her flesh crawled at the sight of the granite slabs and shackles.
But Haroun's order when it came was almost mild. "Kindly stretch out on this, the nearest block, thighs over the sides, arms beyond your head. I believe you know the posture."
Not a chain or clamp was disturbed, even when the nude body was extended but the following directive did more than disturb the slave. "Now bring down one hand and frig your clit into erection, then back again with the arm." The middle finger went to work at once.
Trembling, Silvana watched the turbaned head descend and saw the pair of cutting shears approach her sex and, as he parted her long-lipped vulva and drew out the clitoris, she recalled the man's remark in Damiana's room. With a click, the clit ring was severed, rotated and slowly extracted. Concentrating on stifling an orgasm that had begun to threaten, she could hardly believe what had just taken place, or what was to follow.
Haroun cut through the wrist and ankle straps and, after daubing the desiccated skin again with spikenard, took from among his swirling garments four bracelets of red leather, each no more than half the breadth of those he had discarded. Silvana watched the exchange in amazement. Instead of the bondage being clamped, narrow straps were fed through buckles and left to flap.
Transported with joy, she risked a cry. "Oh, blessed be Phranis! How can I thank you, dearest Haroun?" She trusted her trite felicity would not bring the whip into play but the turban only nodded. "The other rings must stay, slave. At least, for the time being. The rest depends on your Master. Now, we'll mount to his chamber and I'll show you your quarters."
The blonde seemed to float in ecstasy and wondered if her Master would be there to greet her or even flog her, although, given the state of her body, she felt that was hardly likely.
The dwelling astonished her with its wafting silks, the rich kilims, the marble and above all the vast, canopied bed of rose-coloured embroidery. Haroun let her gasp. Then he led her into the adjoining room. Again she stared, abashed. A lancet gave out over the wide reach of countryside and the mauve mountains beyond. To the rear of the narrow chamber, the bed was of silk but richer than that which decked the bunks in the Slave Quarters, while on the wall above the headboard hung the usual slave chain - that was to be expected. Further to the rear lay a small cubicle of flowered tiles, the bath equally lined with marble mosaics. Somehow, the presence of Greta, the former favourite, haunted the rooms. But then, Silvana reminded herself, Greta had gone the way of all flesh. And Damiana too, but to other duties...
She walked back into the sunlit chamber, its silken curtains billowing in the breeze.
"Our Master will be here at nightfall," Haroun informed her, "and you should be upon the bed, outstretched and ready. However, you will have only one night with him, for on the morrow he and Hephaistos" - at the name Silvana realized she had not laid eyes on that one and his handsome cock for many days - "will leave to seek out more slaves. For, not only have two of your former colleagues who accompanied you here proved worthless, but one of our senior inmates - Rouxel, if I recall the name - has been sold off to some whipping den in the northern province. But our gracious Master will be back, hopefully with more enticing flesh, so ready yourself, for I believe he may have things in mind for you. Thereafter, he has to travel to Zahra to inspect the vacation locality there. If you need me, the bell rope is there."
The honoured one, marvelling at the eunuch's mastery of courtly language, felt disconsolate over her Master's absence but put on a brave face. Haroun had clipped a generous measure of chain to her collar, attaching the links to a further length secured to the head of the great bed, and had left, after pointing to the sherbet and sweetmeats available on the table. Silvana realized the restraints, the longest she had ever been allowed as a slave, permitted her to move across the room, make use of the Turkish convenience and even lean out over the lancet's sill to watch the clouds drift by. She felt she was in what Vreni used to call the gardens of paradise - a houri dedicated to the whip, exquisite torture and endless sex.
It was early evening when Thanon returned to his quarters, following a long meeting, apparently with the Elders. After showering - from the bed Silvana could see Haroun sponging the muscular figure - he ordered his new acquisition to parade slowly up and down the room while he took her place on the bed. Joining his hands behind his head, he stretched out, naked and refreshed, to enjoy the sight. The girl used all her erotic gifts to display her beauty, her hands - still unaccustomed to being free - caressing now the flanks, now the breasts, while the buttocks swayed provocatively with each step. Her proprietor gazed at the sumptuous nudity still striped and scarred, as it displayed itself before him, dragging its detention chain across the carpets. Although Greta had been well-breasted, if somewhat slimmer, what was now flaunting its elegance amid the spirals of incense certainly rivalled hers and there seemed little difference between the two as far as physical resilience went.
He let her walk for a long moment before deciding to rise - his phallus having already risen but without any action on her part. She dropped to her knees, moistening her lips in readiness. Her idol merely smiled and told her to stand. He needed her far more prepared than she was, although he guessed her nether lips were also humid. The naked slut was rarely dry.
"I see your welts have subsided," he remarked, his fingers grazing the dark, yellowing bruises traversing the buttocks from thigh to thigh. "Therefore, I shall revive some of them, at the same time regretting I had to lend you to someone else. Now, raise your arms to the chain and prepare that dormant but deserving hind end to be put to the whip."
Silvana gasped, almost aloud. The whip again, and so soon after what she thought would suffice for a week! She moved to the centre of the chamber. So habituated to seeing restraints, trammels and shackles, she had not really noticed the hooked chain hanging from the carved beams above; the links sent a tremor of exhilaration through her entrails as she reached upwards. Aware she was to be suspended taut for the flagellation, she wondered how much latitude would be allowed for her to writhe, Damiana having taught her the art of twisting and contorting her body in order to bewitch her flogger, the man she adored.
Without being summoned, Haroun entered to secure her. He handed his master an oiled tawse - an arm's length of slender leather, slit into three strips at the end. The nude glanced at it with anxiety but also a sense of relief; compared with the blaze of agony induced by the horsehide wielded by Menthif's whores, the thing seemed tolerable. She still ached atrociously from that tremendous flagellation and presumed Thanon was aware of the state in which His Lordship's girls had left her body - he had only to look at her rump meat, belly and split nipple. Hence the relatively mild tawse? Anyway, for him she was prepared to be flayed raw, to the blood - anything. She looked again at the dark triple flange of the slave-thong and felt she could take it without too much screaming. But she knew that cries pleased Thanon. Her main apprehension was that her butt's epidermis might open up and stain the kilims with blood, as well as her sex juice. But Haroun was probably used to cleaning up after a session.
Thrilled to be stark-naked, entirely at her master's disposal at last, she was surprised how competently the eunuch hoisted her up to the hook, her muscles tensing, mercifully her toes grazing the carpet. She followed what Damiana had told her to do, when about to be flogged: she canted her head back behind the arms, her golden locks cascading down the back. The length of wrist chain suited her well and she presumed Greta must have been of the same height. She only hoped she would respond as well as her predecessor was reputed to have done during her daily whippings, penetrations and tortures. In any event, being strung up at full length always excited Silvana, her thoughts returning to one night in the fourth precinct when she had taken fifty lashes, hung in the same manner, from two courtiers and, after passing over the threshold of pain into pleasure, her orgasms had come smoothly and rewardingly.
Thanon took
his time, once again fondling the broad expanse of welted buttock meat, Silvana feeling the phallus butting against her thigh. She closed her eyes in exhilaration. She was about to be whipped - and she trusted, slave-raped - as on that strange night so long ago, but this time by the man who was now her owner. Her nipples and clit distended at the thought. She was ready and leaking, but a long silence followed, filled only by the evening cries of the swallows swooping beyond the lancet and, although she could not be sure, the shrieks of some female being dealt with on the terrace below.
With a sharp hiss and very suddenly, the tawse cut through the sweltering air of the chamber to flatten both masses of buttock flesh, leaving them shuddering as the body staggered forward a step and was left to catch its breath. The second lash brought out a long groan as it bit into the base of the bottom. Somewhere between the blows that followed, gritting her teeth, she managed to wonder how many lashes were to fall; it was not so much the tawse itself that was undermining her but its effect of doubling the damage already there. In the condition she was, a couple of dozen lashes would, she feared, open her up. But then she was at the wrong end of the whip to influence things except how to deal with the pain; it surpassed anything she had expected. The tawse itself was one thing, the slash of the triple fangs quite another.
By the twelfth lash, with that mixture of intense pain and flowering pleasure she knew so well, her vagina was awash, as it always became when she twisted on the end of a whipping chain; her wet labia flapped, stuck together, parted, the metal rings chiming. The nipples had become thick and prominent and, despite the memory of the flagellation in Precinct Nine, her breasts seemed to be pleading for a taste of the leather. But Thanon concentrated on what he was known to prefer - a pair of shuddering buttocks, the larger the better. The fact that those he was punishing belonged to the superb slave he had chosen exclusively for his own use, only made him flog harder - as if to imprint a mark of ownership on his property. Indeed, like the incomparable Greta, who could take a hundred lashes without passing out, this magnificent blonde of his just had to learn. With a few more weeks of steady beating and visits to the different torture precincts, she would also grasp how to respond to her owner's demands. She too was uttering, like Greta, those same sharp yells of pleasure after weathering a prelude of pain, and that drove him on to beat, beat and beat until ... Oh, yes, he had indeed chosen shrewdly.
Silvana's Quest Page 11