Above all, Thanon wanted the wench fully on heat, craving penetration. After some thirty slashes, the striations whitening under the force of each blow before rising into sombre ridges, he had reduced her to what he called 'a quivering jelly of flogged flesh'. He paused to allow her lungs to gather breath for the remainder of the punishment. The respite afforded him the chance to watch the weals turn purple. Thanon cursed the Equerry for the damage done to what were probably the finest buttocks in the entire palace. Wiping off the splurge of sweat from his tawse, he swung the slave body around to face him. Exceptionally, he was tempted to mark the thighs, belly and breasts, but held back.
"From what I've seen of you elsewhere and now, you really enjoy the whip, don't you, my beauty?" He wrenched the perspiring, tear-stained face forward to study the blue eyes.
"Yes and no, master," the quivering one spluttered.
"No? What do you mean, no?" Her reply seeming to vex him, his eyes darkened as he tapped the pectoral muscles tensioning the breasts, the customary site for further punishment should a slave dare manifest the slightest remonstrance to being arse-whipped to the blood.
"I mean, master... I think... my front needs to be given the tawse too..."
Half tempted again to lash the rich mammaries quaking before him, he hesitated.
"Another time. This is just a token of welcome. Later, the rest will have its due, believe me, but I always prefer to start on the rump. Surely your Damiana told you the difference between a rear and a frontal beating, quite apart from a crotch whipping, no? The first is routine, while the latter two require careful preparation. The breasts, belly and what you have down there between those sturdy thighs call for other whips. Have you not grasped that?" Silvana nodded but could not recall being invited to make the distinction. The Lord Menthif's whores, by Phranis, had used doubled-up horsehide on her front and that she would not forget as long as she lived; she considered herself fortunate they had not cunt-whipped her as well.
Then Thanon gave her rump a dozen more lashes, watching her reactions closely as he had done throughout her training and during her beatings and sessions of sex torture at the hands of various overseers and courtiers. From her gathering groans and clenching of the thighs, he saw she was on the verge of orgasm. Spinning her around again, he thrust a hand between the flesh rings and felt the clitoris. The pressure brought a guttural cry from the throat. She was ready to spend and only needed his permission. About to lift her legs and ram into the vagina, he again changed his mind, giving Haroun a nod. The long-suffering eunuch knew his master well; after watching him whip Greta, the denuded Damiana, a tempting slave or even a serving maid, it was customary for sex to take place against or upon the four-poster.
Immediately he unhooked the weeping, butt-scarred beauty and hauled her to the bed, spreadeagling her out over the covers. Barely conscious of where she lay, the cool touch of the sheets seemed to revive her. Apart from the enjoyable moments in the Slave Quarters and more recently in Damiana's room, she had rarely had sex on a bed. Almost all her orgasms had come when suspended or chained, moaning, over some trestle or slab. Or against the wall.
Straddling her chest, the man wrenched the sweating head forward to penetrate the one loquacious orifice of the three she had, the mouth agape, the tongue already flicking.
The sensation of the heart-shaped glans sliding between her lips, across the hard palate and then into the gullet, made Silvana curb the lust that a rump beating always roused in her innards. Her face smothered in the advancing and receding forest of pubic growth, she could hardly believe what Dame Fortune was allowing her to enjoy, there on her master's bed! She just hoped what was dripping from her crotch would not stain the exquisite sheets.
But Silvana was to be disappointed. Different from when Hephaistos, Yannis, Pervez and so many courtiers had clogged her throat for her to gulp down their wads of spunk, her owner withdrew, leaving her with only spittle and thin pre-come. She could have cried.
Suddenly she felt herself being turned over and made to kneel, her whip-ridged hind end aloft, face in the pillows. She felt the powerful hands spreading her buttocks apart. The helm she had just sucked and conveniently coated with saliva, kneaded her sphincter a moment and bored in, Silvana wincing but blessing Damiana for slackening what had previously been a ring of recalcitrant muscle. Grasping her pelvis bones, Thanon ploughed into the very depth of the rectum and sodomized her with long, slow thrusts. Ordered to frig her despairing clitoris but 'to keep it at bay', she begged him to allow her to orgasm. But clearly Thanon had decided to make her hold on until the last second.
"You will come when I say so. At the same time as I fill you. Judge by the throb of my cock. Spend before and I'll have Haroun hang you by the legs for the night from that chain you now know, and cane your dangling breasts. So, thrust against me and frig slowly."
Silvana did so, again amazed that her arms and hands were free and her sex prong no longer harassed by metal. When the man's groans filled the room and the cock pulsed, driving into her bowels what she held to be celestial liquor, she let herself go. Her head veering back and shrieking, as if being disembowelled, she climaxed gloriously, voiding her vagina of its viscid slush. Her howls, Haroun guessed, must have reached the palace's noble pinnacles as well as the stories below - except that there, any courtiers disporting themselves with a naked slave or two were used to such sounds, whether they came from the precincts below or from private chambers. Like the baying of the mastiffs and the crisp flapping of pennants on the towers, they mattered no more than the slash of whips, the howls and other orgiastic shrieks.
Leaving his concubine to slump and throb in aftermath, Thanon imparted what he had to say, gently smoothing his new slave's locks that reminded him of his Greta. Limbs entangled, Silvana floated in clouds of pleasure - with, all the same, a residue of pain remaining from the sodomy - as night beyond the mullioned lancet darkened the chamber.
"We shall continue when my phallus tells us to." The voice seemed disembodied, as if addressing that wilted object. "Apart from the other night, which was, alas, diplomatically inevitable, what can one think of this palace, Silvana?" He did not wait for an answer. "It is a den of despots and monsters. But I have to serve here. But not for long. My retirement, like that of your filthy guardians," - Silvana found she could hardly remember them - "is due and I'm anxious to plan my future. Much depends on the Elders." The slave, nestling with her arms around him, felt unsure of herself, confronted with political overtones. "Now, as to you, I want you to train yourself up to take the place of that slut Mila, who has been demoted. You will help in the precincts, assisting Saletha in her duties, which, incidentally, will include your punishing the one I mention" - the thought of whipping Mila thrilled Silvana - "in addition to being my whipping slave. Saletha and Damiana will help you to learn the ropes." Silvana thought the phrase very appropriate but began to worry; ruing the day when she had believed herself capable of wielding the whip. How was it her owners guessed her innermost thoughts? The wheel of fortune seemed to be turning full circle. She would be senior to Mila and, above all, a slave handler and Thanon's companion. Her mind took fright at the prospect ahead.
The bearded one disengaged himself from the hot, glistening body glued to him and went on: "I have to descend again tomorrow to the lower townships to select additional flesh. Two of your former sisters have proved worthless" - in her mind's eye Silvana saw Kitana and Britta being uselessly tortured, probably in Sefket's cellar, in an attempt to enliven them - "and one of our females, called Rixel or Rouxel, has been sold off to some caravanserai on the fringes of Anatolia, in need of trained flogging flesh." That, as well as his imminent departure, she had already learnt from Haroun, but was astounded at the man sharing so much news with her. "While I am away, you'll be in the care of Haroun and, when she needs you, Saletha. She and Damiana will train you in preparing slaves for our courtiers' use and how to flog. I
do not want you to meddle with erotic sex torture just yet, but that too you will have to learn." After a pause, he added: "On no account do I want you to use the Ninth Precinct which, of course, you now know." That was indeed the last place Silvana wished to see again.
She sat up in bed, hardly believing what was being said. At the same time, she felt a weird thrill scud through her entrails as she pictured Mila chained to the iron harrow in the Chamber of Gratification and, white as milk, staring at the one who had taken her place, now privileged to wear high boots, body straps and gauntlets, and carry a slave whip.
Her owner had not finished. "Haroun will show you my study," the elegant beard motioned towards a passage leading away from the bedchamber, "as well as my own private torture sanctum. The latter he may not use, although, if necessary, he may whip you here." The second gesture was to the hook-and-chain with which Silvana had only just become acquainted. "Finally, as I said, I want you to become proficient in flagellation, and Saletha or Damiana will see to it you are given bodies that require ruthless disciplining, such as Mila's."
Thrilled by that name again, Silvana wished him a safe and profitable journey, imagining the roan steed cantering into Lower Saronis or whatever other village he was to ransack for quality flesh. It reminded her of that night so long ago when she had first laid eyes on him, her divine master.
In her owner's absence, events moved fast. As Mila's replacement, she was astonished and thrilled when Saletha removed her new ankle straps and applied grease to the chafed skin before helping her into the long boots. The gauntlets, thorax leathers and whip-belt proved even more thrilling, even though Saletha told her they would be worn solely when acting as her assistant. Apart from the six remaining slave rings, all that was left were the wrist and throat straps, the ankles remaining free, to permit her to slide into the boots.
Several days later, even the silver circles still pierced through the labia majora and minora were cut away from the elongated holes of sex flesh, just as the clit had been freed. The superb teats alone remained encumbered. "Your master still wants your nipples ringed," Saletha remarked delicately, "in the event of feeling like attaching them, instead of your wrists, to the rafter chain in yonder chamber." Her hand directed her startled eyes upwards to Thanon's torture closet. "Greta spent many exacting but, I believe, exciting nights in there. I'm sure you will enjoy it, too." Silvana tried to smile, the prospect bringing her tawny, ringed peaks into full erection. Damiana had shown her how to steady herself on tiptoe when extended by the nipple rings, the wrists clipped to the nape. During the initiation to breast traction, the beating and inevitable tottering had almost ripped the metal loops out of her 'sugar-tits', the term Odile used to apply to a pair of slave nipples. In any event, to have only two rings left was a surprise, as was Saletha's subsequent remark.
"Your great master wants you freed gradually, honey. You're extremely favoured, you realize. In time, believe me, you'll regret losing the lot, as I did. They did help me to orgasm."
About to ask Saletha, with a twinge of irreparable loss, if she could keep the rings as tokens of her slavery, she thought better of it. In any event, where would she keep them? The only souvenirs a slave gathered in the Bithynian palace were not discarded rings but welts and memories of brusque commands, jangling chains and unbelievable pain. And now, promotion.
Attired as a junior assistant, Silvana was ordered to report to Damiana in Sefket's funereal realm of chains and irons that brought back to her dark memories. But her former slave mistress greeted her effusively, a gloved hand roving languorously over the rich buttocks that had begun to heal. It was Mila's replacement, the sleekly muscular Marysa, who rinsed the blonde hair and braided it into a chignon. She powdered the body and bordered the eyes with kohl, applying cochineal to the nipples and, drying them, to the dangling sex flaps.
"Now, listen to me, gorgeous," Damiana said, staring at the result. "The Master of Slaves, to whom you now belong, wants you to gain experience in using the whip, rather than merely receiving it. He has ordered that you have practice daily until you're competent." Then she added: "That is, of course, apart from your duties under Saletha as a slave handler. You must learn how to chain and beat a naked slave, as you were beaten. Do you follow?"
Dubiously, Silvana nodded. "I'll try to do my best, mistress."
"Your best may not be good enough, my dear. Otherwise we shall have to show you all over again, in bondage - like this slothful whore slave who refuses to respond." Drawing Silvana over into the shadows beyond the torture trestles, she pointed to what was strung aloft by the wrists. The sight of the slender nude caused Silvana to stop, aghast. All four limbs parted wide, Kitana's body hung outstretched, belly down, low and almost horizontal, from chains descending from the vaulting. The girl's head of ginger hair, the mouth gaping, was braced back by a thong encircling the brow and attached to the rear ring of the throat strap. The tear-stained face reminded Silvana of the white parchment from which the Elders read out their decisions. Quite clearly, the tensed body was stretched for flagellation and much more.
Damiana walked her pupil round the victim, commenting on the puny breasts and scanty rump. "Yes, this creature is one of your former colleagues, a slut that refuses to learn, alas. Now, Silvana, you'll notice the height at which my assistants have chained her. You've had the same suspension, remember? It presents the whole of the rear for the whip and easy access to all three orifices. Not that the selfish bitch will appreciate her good fortune."
Silvana nodded, remembering the position and also the slut's impotence. As she paced round the body, she was again surprised how calm it seemed, the ringed nipples and vulva impassive - compared with her own that had already swollen with lust. Between the taut buttocks, the anus was little more than a bud, despite the gouging it must have received. To judge by the welts, the slave must have endured hard flogging but had not been made to bleed.
"The whore," Damiana went on, Silvana finding the term far from apt, "is hopeless as a slave." She slapped Kitana's arse with a gesture of despair. "But she'll be useful as a start before we give you a tougher subject to deal with." She gestured further into the gloom of the cellar beyond a torture frame, for once vacant but dark with stains of blood and sweat.
But the stake in the far distance was far from unoccupied. Hung by the wrists, a second female nude was just discernible. The body seemed more mature and attractive than that slung before Silvana and it struck her as somehow familiar. Narrowing her eyes, she stared in amazement. What was stretched, stark-naked, between the vault hooks and the floor hasps was none other than Mila. She had been fully ringed through both nipples and the sex meat.
A sensation of aversion and vengeance seized Silvana, Damiana watching the reaction.
"That's what happens here to the insubordinate," the senior one murmured, "but, of course, having risen from the ranks, like you, this one's fairly used to the whip. And our Sefket knows how to punish a refractory inmate. So, be warned. No one lies beyond correction."
Silvana harkened the threat, staring at the body and at Damiana. Then she said: "Oh, mistress, may I try my hand on that, too? Nothing would please me more. Please, may I?"
The overseer sensed the venom in the query. "That would depend on Sefket, my love. But I can ask. You see, it's he who usually flogs the breasts of a demoted female and we've had quite a number in the past. But first, until he arrives, let's start with this worthless trash of a redhead, before she's consigned to the prisons, may the divine Phranis and Locrana help her. Go and select your whip - they're hanging over there on the wall."
As Silvana sauntered slowly to the rack of instruments, the gaunt cripple entered and immediately Damiana bowed. After the usual greetings, she spoke to him in undertones, Silvana catching only the reply.
"I have no objection but she must beat the mammaries hard. In any case, I have work to do in Precinct Five - the Countess Castriada w
ishes to have one of her maids flogged for insolence proffered to her noble husband, the Count, and as they want her to be tortured, I have to be present to prepare the wench and throttle her breasts. So, Damiana dear, go ahead." He glanced at the blonde newcomer who, by reason on her sudden promotion, was eluding his grasp. He would not have declined an hour or two with her on the iron rack, cunt splayed. With that, collecting several lengths of spiked breast thongs, the club-footed torturer hobbled out, leaving his assistant to her training duties.
"So, there you are, delicious," she smiled, "you have a free hand. Give this indolent bitch her due first and then we'll see about our little treasure Mila."
What Silvana saw before her on the whip rack surpassed anything she had imagined. The implements in the Chamber of Gratification and, for that matter, in any of the precincts where she had been whipped and used, fell far short of the array confronting her. From short leather quirts to long, knotted bullwhips - that recalled those wielded by His Lordship's whores - the selection bewildered her. Finally, she chose a six-thong of medium length, to which Damiana gave her assent, adding: "Now, address the slave and tell her what you're going to do to her." With that, the slave mistress perched one of her famous buttocks on a nearby granite block, to watch. "And whip slowly until she's primed - that is, if you can get her primed. Don't worry about her climaxes. The slag's now incapable of rising to that height, so just flog her for your own enjoyment."
Silvana's Quest Page 12