by W. S. Antony
And he rang his bell.
Six hundred, six-fifty, seven.
Jeni was trembling with excitement. She had never felt anything like this before. She saw Rebecca’s face lit up with strange hunger, feeding on the perverse thrill of being sold like an animal, the focus of every eye in the building; the object of their desire yet already priced beyond most of their means. They were important, valued, helpless.
A slight pause, then the bidding rose to eight hundred, eight-fifty, eight-sixty, seventy.
‘Are we done?’ the auctioneer asked the audience. ‘Perhaps you think being barbarians they will not respond as normal girls? Shall we test them?’
And he slipped the rubber tip of his stick, already stained with a hundred girls’ juices, into Jeni’s wet cleft, turned and lifted...
Ahh! A thrill of pure pleasure coursed through her as he touched her in exactly the right spot; releasing her pent-up excitement in a rush only just short of orgasmic. The screens relayed every flutter of her eyelids and the sudden ecstatic drop of her jaw.
Eight eighty, eight ninety...
The auctioneer’s stick parted Rebecca’s labia. As he touched her spot she groaned aloud, then gasped out in a clear voice, ‘Buy us, masters, please. I beg to be owned!’
For a moment the auctioneer stared at her. Slaves did not speak on the block.
Then a card was raised high above the heads of the other bidders. ‘A thousand crowns!’
A murmur of surprise rose up. The auctioneer spun round startled, saw who had made the bid and quickly rang his bell.
‘Sold: to card number one eight seven... Councillor Adamasees.’
‘Made it!’ Rebecca exclaimed softly.
Chapter 14
Apart from the slap of Jeni and Rebecca’s sandals on the smoothly rolled gravel, the carriage glided silently along the narrow tree-lined lane. Adamasees Lorthon was making a tour of his estate, while also testing the stamina of his new purchases.
He sat in a reclining seat supported by the light frame of the small carriage, which mostly comprised the levitator unit and power pack. A central shaft ran forward, at the end of which was slotted through a crossbar that pinned to the backs of the broad harness belts the two girls now wore. Their arms were in turn crooked behind and around the crossbar and then drawn forward to where their wrist cuffs were chained to the front of their belts. Adamasees preferred this method of harnessing, as he felt it secured the girl more rigidly to the frame of the carriage.
Jeni and Rebecca were both dressed in Adamasees livery. Their golden cuffs and chastity belts bore the Adamasees crest, which was replicated by the indelible transfers that decorated the smooth skin of their upper left buttocks and, in smaller scale, their right cheeks. The seal even appeared on the clasps of their sandals and the gold filigree cups enclosing their breasts, which controlled their lively bobbing while they ran.
Their heads were enclosed in light bridles without bits, which Adamasees felt interfered with their breathing too much for serious work. Instead they were fitted with flat hooks that went around the corners of their mouths and down the inside of their cheeks. These kept their mouths lightly but attractively stretched and also reminded them of their status, while allowing free passage of air.
The rest of the bridles comprised decorative strap work, as there were no reins attached to them to transmit his commands. Instead Adamasees had a small joystick control under his right hand, which was linked to controller units built into the girls’ breast cups and chastity belts. Fine sprung metal contacts lay across the curves of their buttocks. Pushing the joystick forward caused them to deliver shocks that closely mimicked the sting of a whip and encouraged them to go faster. Contact rods inserted in their vaginas gave a shock when the joystick was pulled back and warned them to slow down. Direction was taken care of via their breast cups, where stinging pricks on either their left or right nipples indicated which way they were to turn. Naturally the further and more rapidly Adamasees moved the joystick translated into a greater intensity of shock.
Despite their barbarian upbringing, the pair had learned to respond to the commands after only a few demonstrations. Adamasees conceded it might be the result of good training at the House of Remnos, and thought he would recommend the establishment to his friends.
And so Adamasees Lorthon glided along the estate road, contentedly watching the rolling buttocks of his newest slaves, their golden plats flying out behind them.
Jeni delighted in the sensation of running in the open air, yet within the firm comforting confinement of her harness. Pulling one of the gliding carriages took effort, of course, but nothing like as much as it would have taken to move a wheeled vehicle of similar weight.
She had no idea how the lifting force operated, but it was as though the body of the carriage was running on invisible frictionless rails that held it straight and level. They had soon discovered that once they got up to speed they could lift their legs a little and let their harness support most of their weight through the main shaft. The carriage did not tip forward at all, and they could take longer, more leisurely strides, exerting just enough force to maintain a steady pace while moving with an unearthly grace. It felt like they were travelling in a dreamlike swoop along the road.
Of course the Elysians did not need to use muscle power to propel their carriages, but there was something intriguing about this combination of the basic and highly advanced. Obviously Elysians still maintained their ties with the past, as made evident by the lifestyle of their new owners.
After a few days Jeni felt she had the measure of Lorthon and Vandra Adamasees. Very simply, they were rich people who enjoyed the advantages of their wealth to the full, and liked others to know it. Fortunately, from the point of view of a pleasure slave, they were easy enough to please in bed if they got what they wanted, and Jeni silently thanked Mistress Kara once again for training her so thoroughly. In fact the couple were rather unimaginative, and they had been pleasantly surprised by some of the little tricks she and Rebecca demonstrated.
The house servants clearly knew they were currently their employers’ favourites, so they were treated with as much respect and consideration as slaves could ever expect. The only slight show of resentment had come from Leta and Keta, the twin girls who had been the Adamasees’ former favourite slaves.
Jeni and Rebecca now slept in what had been the twins’ special basket at the foot of their owners’ bed, while Leta and Keta had been relegated to some outside kennel. But there was nothing the pair could do about it while Jeni and Rebecca remained popular.
Though she knew it was not her fault, this simmering antagonism pricked Jeni’s conscience, and she determined to try to get on good terms with the twins if at all possible.
But unfortunately she had little opportunity for bridge building, as their owners wanted them at their sides almost constantly. For now she would just have to enjoy the simple pleasure of pulling the magical carriage.
They stopped at a couple of outlying farmhouses, apparently part of the Adamasees’ estate, where Lorthon was received with every sign of respect. Rebecca clearly enjoyed looking over the rich farmland, as it confirmed her original assessment of their new owners.
While Lorthon went inside one of the properties and they were left hobbled and unattended under an awning, Rebecca said, her voice slightly slurred by her bridle hooks, ‘Look at all this land! Lorthon and Vandra are loaded!’
To Jeni’s ears it seemed as though Rebecca was already assuming a personal share in the estate, instead of being merely one of its owners’ chattels. ‘Well make the most of it while it lasts,’ she warned her.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The Adamasees’ are pretty shallow. You can tell they don’t form deep attachments to their slaves. We’re just their latest toys. One day we’ll be replaced by somebody new, and then we’ll be put out with the twins, or so
ld on.’
Rebecca blinked. ‘I know that. Do you think I’m stupid? But while they’re showing us off to everybody I mean to impress. When the time comes somebody else will want us, maybe with even better connections. I’ve seen it happen. We don’t get old here remember? I can wait a year or two for things to work out.’
‘We may not get old, but we might go out of fashion,’ Jeni pointed out.
‘Blondes never go out of fashion,’ Rebecca said confidently.
Jeni did not reply. She was thinking of Cath and Narvok Tem, and the indulgences he obviously permitted her. Cath had been with him for a quarter of a century.
A lot of marriages did not last that long. It had to be something special, something more than a comfortable familiarity between master and servant. Had Cath found the right person for her? It gave Jeni hope that somewhere in Elysium was the perfect master or mistress for her – somebody who would not care about the latest slave fashions, but would want her for herself.
They arrived back at the Adamasees’ country residence shortly after midday. It was the size of a mansion and more open than city houses, its wings spreading comfortably out from a central domed hall. The only echo of the feudal past was the high wall that surrounded its spacious grounds.
Trotting the girls round to the stable, Lorthon was met by his wife who had been supervising the garden slaves.
‘How did they run?’ Vandra asked, stroking the girls’ sweating flanks.
‘Well. And so they should for what they cost. Still, it’s good to know they’re more than just decorative.’
His wife laughed. ‘And pleasurable. You had no complaints about their service last night. How many times did you come in Jeni?’
‘All right, my dear, I take your point. I suppose they were worth the money.’
‘They were. And now we must show them off properly. I thought we would make a start by taking them to next week’s games.’
‘Oh, what’s on the programme?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Everybody who counts will be there.’
Rebecca’s nipples pricked up. They were going to be shown off to society.
They travelled to the games in the Adamasees’ private flying disk, Jeni and Rebecca kneeling beside Lorthon and Vandra in a covered compartment behind the driver. Unlike Syndor’s disk it kept to the roads, gliding along high enough to pass over any ground traffic. Jeni wondered if only the military were allowed to travel freely overland.
The road curved round the city to the stadium, which lay just outside the walls of Ceroth. It was a huge oval arena that reminded Jeni of a reconstruction she had seen of the Roman coliseum in its heyday. Jeni began to wonder just what sort of ‘games’ they were going to watch.
As they got closer she saw a swarm of people heading for the stadium, along the road from the nearest city gate, travelling either on foot or by floating carriage. There seemed to be thousands of them. Clearly the games were very popular.
In one respect the stadium differed from its Roman counterpart. Halfway up its exterior wall was a ring of cantilevered open balconies. Jeni saw a few were already occupied with disks like theirs, and realised they served as landing platforms for those who did not want to be caught up in the crush below round the ground floor entrances and public carriage parks. It seemed their new owners literally belonged to a higher class than the rest.
Their disk settled onto its assigned pad, and they all climbed out. They passed through an archway into a curving ambulatory. Several other well-dressed persons were already there, chatting with each other before they moved through to their reserved boxes. Most were accompanied by slaves in different harnesses, some richly decorated with jewels, or else dressed in fanciful costumes. Jeni and Rebecca, however, received exactly the attention Vandra had planned.
Their long hair had been platted into the chain leashes clipped to the back of their collars, with the ends tied round ring handles. It looked like ropes of gold tethered them. Cross-linked chains between their wrists and ankle cuffs ensured they walked on all fours in front of their owners like dogs. To be certain they also kept their bottoms high to show off their golden bushes as well, they wore specially modified chastity belts. A single chain running between their legs from front to back ensured their orifices were guarded, whilst at the same time covering as little of their pubic hair as possible.
The belts themselves were thicker than normal and must have contained tiny levitator units, because as they walked along on their hands and feet their hips were held at a constant height from the floor. It made it easier to move around in their awkward posture and display themselves as their owners desired, but it was the strangest sensation. Jeni wondered how much the belts had cost.
After the Adamasees had exchanged a few pleasantries with their friends, and accepted admiring comments on behalf of their new acquisitions, they moved along a sloping covered passageway to their box.
It was set about a third the way up the sweep of raked seats that curved around the great bowl of the stadium, which Jeni guessed could easily hold fifty thousand people when full. Huge awnings were strung from masts that ringed the outer walls, shielding the audience from the sun. Giant screens also hung from the awning rigging, ready to display events down in the pit of the arena in close up detail. In addition, each box had its own private screen with a choice of camera angles.
With their lift belts turned off, Jeni and Rebecca were sat on cushions at the Adamasees’ feet. Their leash rings were clipped high up the sides of their owners’ chairs, so that nobody could miss seeing their hair. Vandra and Lorthon waved and called out to acquaintances seated in nearby boxes, and generally ensured everybody knew they were there.
Arena slaves brought in trays of finger food, and finally, with their social objectives achieved, the Adamasees settled back in their chairs and began reading their programmes and making comments about the events featured which meant nothing to their new slaves. Jeni and Rebecca exchanged curious glances, unsure what they were going to see.
With a fanfare a parade began. A couple of hundred people, wearing both armour and other colourful costumes, emerged from gates set around the floor of the arena and waved to the crowd as they made a circuit. Meanwhile an unseen announcer kept up a running commentary, sometimes introducing individuals who were evidently star performers to bursts of rapturous applause. The performers marched off and the first event got underway.
It was a sort of aerial joust, with contestants carrying lances and riding what looked like levitated saddles without any horses. The first few encounters were settled when one or the other rider was knocked off his saddle. They picked themselves up after a few moments to the cheers or catcalls of the crowd, and only seemed shaken. Presumably the armour they were wearing was well padded. It reminded Jeni of some historical re-enactment, if taken a bit more seriously.
Then a lance struck a man squarely. It must have found some chink in his armour because it went right through his body and snapped clean off. He reeled backwards out of his saddle and crashed to the sand of the arena to the accompaniment of a huge roar from the crowd. The cameras zoomed in for close-ups. Jeni saw blood about the broken shaft of the lance where it skewered his body, then looked away. A medical team in white coveralls carrying a floating stretcher ran out from the side of the arena, and began administering first aid.
But incredibly the contest was not suspended. The crowd kept on cheering the fallen man’s opponent, who was waving back in evident delight. Jeni felt sick, and even Rebecca looked unnaturally pale. But the Adamasees were cheering and stamping their feet and the crowd around them were going wild. She could feel the arena shaking. Did nobody care about the fallen man?
Apparently not, for the next contest was even more brutal.
Aided by levitation motors, a kind of mock battlefield was erected on the sand in minutes, complete with bulwarks and other defences and obstacles. Tw
o teams of about twenty men in red and blue tunics and helmets marched out and took up positions on either side of the arena, ranged about coloured circles that marked their bases. Each team was armed with swords, shields, spears and axes. They also carried three pennants in their own colours. These flew from short flagpoles chained to the backs of naked slave girls entirely covered in red or blue body paint.
So tightly chained to the poles were the girls that they could not walk and had to be carried shoulder high. They were only stood upright when the flagpoles were driven into the sand.
The game was very simple. Each side attacked the other and tried to capture their girl standards. Whoever got all three back to their base at the same time was the winner.
It was face-to-face combat with no quarter given. Men fell in bloody heaps and lay still, or else fought on with terrible wounds. The girl standards changed hands a dozen times, being dragged or carried back to one side and then recovered again. In lulls in the battle as the sides regrouped, taunts were shouted back and forth between them, and any captured girl standards were held up and the girls tormented or symbolically raped. And all this the arena cameras captured in loving detail.
Finally the red team, or at least what was left of them, managed to gather all the blue girl standards into their circle and were declared the winners. The captives were carried off, the dead or wounded taken away, the props removed and the sand raked clean.
That slave girls should be used as tokens in such a game and handled so casually troubled Jeni little. That was the sort of treatment they must expect. What appalled her was the bloodshed involved in the contest, which the crowd seemed to lap up without any consideration for the fallen. What sort of people were the Elysians?
For hours the bloody games continued.