Trojan Slaves (16 page)

Calchas stood
at the altar still with his hands high. The naked girls gathered
around him, kneeling first, then bowing slowly one by one. The four
men stood around them in a square.

Everything
went quiet as Calchas started chanting. He turned and pointed to
one of the captives - Calliope. The chain was unclipped from her
collar and she was led forward to the altar. She looked around
anxiously, pulling against her captors.

They pulled
the strap from Sappho's mouth and freed her ankles. Her arms were
left bound across her breasts. She struggled up onto her knees. She
could not move her arms at all, so tightly bound to her chest that
she found it hard to breathe. She watched Calliope held before the
altar. She could hear her own heart beating in the eerie
quietness.

The men pushed
Calliope forward against the boulder, draping her over it, bending
her body to its curved shape. Master Wang ran forward with two
soldiers. He instructed them to drive long iron stakes, with rings
at the top, into the sand around the boulder. He tied Calliope's
ankles with ropes to two of the ringed stakes and her wrists to two
more. He pulled them tight, leaning back and pulling with all his
weight until he was satisfied. He led Praxis forward to check his
work. Praxis pulled on the bonds and smoothed his hands across
Calliope's buttocks. He nodded his approval. Calchas ordered one of
the girls forward. She brought a jug of oil. He commanded her to
pour it over Calliope's upturned bottom. The girl did as she was
told, lifting the jug high and tipping its contents slowly. It ran
in a glistening, golden stream across Calliope's taut skin. It ran
between the valley of her buttocks, around her anus and across the
shapely flesh of her labia. It dribbled down her thighs to her
knees and onto her calves. Finally it ran onto her feet and soaked
into the sand around them.

Calliope tried
to move against her bonds, but it was pointless. Sappho thought of
Calliope's exposure, bent forward, naked in front of the eyes of
thousands of expectant men. She found herself panting with
expectation.

Wang stood
back and again took Praxis' arm. Calchas motioned to one of the men
who stood in the square around the naked girls. The man stepped
forward and swished the stranded flogger at shoulder height. The
strands curled in unison, slipping through the air with ease, then
flexing in a biting snap when he stopped the downward action.

Sappho
breathed faster.

Calchas
chanted, holding his hands high, imploring Apollo to release the
Greeks from the terrible plague he had placed upon them. He dropped
his arms and immediately the man with the flogger stepped behind
Calliope. The silence was intense.

Sappho's heart
pounded in her chest.

The naked
girls, still on their knees, slowly leant back. They placed their
hands behind them on the ground, widening their legs and exposing
their slits. They lifted their hips, rising on bent legs until they
held their groins as high as they could. The flogger was raised and
dropped in practise.

Sappho panted,
her eyes wide, her mouth gaping.

The flogger
was raised again and this time it was brought down forcefully onto
Calliope's buttocks. It hit with a thud. The only signs of its
inflicted pain were the slight sign of increased muscular tension
in Calliope's buttocks, and the spray of oil driven off her skin by
the impact. It came down again, another thud, another twinge of
increased tightness, another spray of oil. And again, and
again.

The next man
was ordered forward. He flexed the double-tailed quirt. Wang
smoothed his hand across Calliope's buttocks, wiping the oil around
them, ensuring they were covered completely. He nodded, and without
any preparation, the man brought the crop down fiercely. Its two
tails snatched through the air and, hard and unbending, they fell
on Calliope's buttocks with two quickly snapping smacks. Calliope
tightened all over. Sappho could see her agony. She could tell the
pain was great, was hard to bear, was filling her with fear of
more. The quirt swept down repeatedly. The spray of oil this time
sharper, penetrating the air in a fine fan of golden glitter.

The naked
girls pushed their hips high, gyrating. They balanced back on one
hand, using the other to massage themselves. With stretched fingers
they opened their soft flesh, exposing themselves, giving
themselves to the eyes of all those that watched, absorbing the
men's stares, feeding on their delight.

The man with
the quirt stepped back and was replaced by the one with the cane.
He lifted his knee and flexed the cane over it, showing how it
bent, how it would snap against its victim, how it would deliver
its pain. Again Master Wang came forward and ran his hand across
Calliope's buttocks. This time he called for more oil and a full
jug had to be emptied until he was satisfied. It poured between her
reddened buttocks, down the insides of her legs and settled in
golden pools around her feet.

The crowd was
still silent but now Calliope's panting could be heard, shallow and
repetitive. The cane came down for the first time in a long slash.
It cut across Calliope's buttocks and she screamed out loudly; a
piercing scream. It cut the silence. Then as suddenly as it had
begun it stopped, and her panting continued. The cane came down
again and she screamed again. The thrashing continued, each cutting
blow accompanied by an increasingly shrill screech of pain.

Sappho opened
her knees some more. She looked around and saw the mass of faces
staring down at the spectacle before them. She imagined all those
eyes on her and her alone, and opened her knees wider. A draught of
cool air spread across her. She stretched her knees as wide as she
could.

The man with
the single-tailed whip stepped forward and took the other's place.
Sappho looked up as he swept it around in a slow circle above his
head. Her stomach filled with anxiety at the sight of it, but she
could not take her eyes from it. It threatened so much pain and the
fear it generated fed her increasing excitement. She struggled to
free her arms but still it was impossible, and the frustration fed
her desires even more. She tightened her buttocks, and could feel
the wetness of her sex around her throbbing clitoris.

The man with
the whip paraded around Calliope, spread on the boulder. He pulled
the whip back slowly to shoulder height then threw his hand
forward. The long leather tail curled lazily in pursuit, stretching
forward as the motion quickened. When it reached the end it cracked
with an alarming snap. A coil of smoke rose from its tip as it
settled to the ground. Each time he snapped it, each time it
cracked, each time the coil of smoke rose from its burning tip
Sappho grew more impatient, more in need. She did not know how to
contain her craving to release her pent-up desire. She was
desperate to feel her fingers between her thighs, desperate to feel
her clitoris pinched between her finger and thumb.

Calliope
screeched when the whip cracked across her buttocks. It caught her
precisely at the moment the looping curl unfolded. The suddenly
released energy snapped the final shredded tassel of leather so
ferociously that it burned. It cut Calliope's taut skin, inflicting
a pain so deeply into her that when she opened her mouth to scream
no sound came out. The only sound to be heard was her rapid
panting. The rhythm was broken by a second snap of the whip. Again
she could not scream; she was too filled with pain. Her panting
became louder and when a third cut into her blended into one long
hiss.

Sappho was
transfixed. She twisted from side to side, struggling to get her
hands free, struggling to relieve the desires that centred deep in
her core. Battling to squeeze her shoulders so that her arms might
come free, the tension of her captivity only increased her need.
She stretched her fingers pointlessly, flexing them rhythmically,
mirroring the throbs that pulsated in her sex. She fell sideways,
her legs wide apart. Everything felt confused. She struggled to get
herself up, but with her arms bound across her chest it was
impossible. She kicked at the sand, trying to find a foothold. She
closed her eyes tight and rolled onto her back. She listened for
the sound of the whip, but it had stopped. Its absence exposed the
total silence. All Sappho could hear was her own panting breath.
She froze, afraid to move, then as though she had been commanded,
she opened her eyes. Wang was standing over her.

She looked
around. Everyone was staring at her. She was completely exposed.
The whipping had stopped. She had become the centre of everybody's
attention. A wave of joy spread over her, but before she had taken
another hurried breath it was joined by fear.

'Bring her
here!' screamed Calchas. 'She will be the reason Apollo forgives
us!'

She was
grabbed and dragged to the boulder. They flung her down on the
sand. Her mouth was filled with it and she choked. They released
Calliope from the altar. They undid her wrists and ankles and she
fell to the side. Sappho looked into her face, tearstained and
dirty. They hauled her to her feet and Sappho stared at the red
stripes on her buttocks. The sight of them inflamed her passion.
She looked around. Within the square described by the boats, on the
four boats themselves, and beyond them in the dunes, men were
packed. They all stared at only her. She opened her legs slightly,
testing out the feeling. She was rewarded with a surge of
delight.

They dragged
her to her feet. They released her arms and straight away she drove
her hands between her legs. They tried to pull them away, but she
would not let them. She spat and screamed and felt the rising tide
of her ecstasy brimming nearer to the surface. She was on the brink
of her rapture, holding her breath, waiting to release it with a
scream of joy, but they would not let her.

They dragged
her hands away and flung her down across the boulder. They held her
pressed against it. She was shocked by the coolness of it. The
pressure they used to force her down took her breath away. They
tied her by the wrists in the same way as Calliope. When they
pulled the rope tight at her wrists she felt the heavy pressure on
her chest. When they secured her ankles and pulled them she felt
the exposure of her buttocks and her sex to all that were gathered
around to watch.

She lifted her
buttocks as much as she could. She was making herself ready. She
had watched the thrashing of Calliope and expected the same. She
knew the first touch of the cane, or the whip or the flogger, would
release her tension, would allow the ecstasy her body was craving.
She opened her mouth and felt herself panting like Calliope. She
stopped and listened. There was absolute silence, just like before.
She let herself pant again, and squirmed her buttocks. She felt the
tension squeezing the moist flesh of her cunt. She did not know how
much she would have to suffer. She tensed and lay still, gasping
quickly. The beating of her heart quickened as the silence filled
her mind.

The naked
girls lifted their hips higher as Calchas moved close behind her.
Their cunts glistened in the flickering light, their smooth
stomachs forming a flat platform between their nubile hips. Their
breasts flattened against their chests as they bowed back their
bodies. Their smooth-shaven heads, ringed with crowns of yellow
flowers, glittered in the shimmering light of the surrounding
torches and lanterns. The look of yearning on their faces revealed
their ecstasy.

Sappho waited
for the first blow, but it did not come. She felt the presence of
Calchas behind her. A darkness passed before her face. She opened
her eyes. Something was being passed over her. It was a sheep's
fleece. They carried it above her head then laid it over her back.
The soft suede of the inside made her shiver as it fell against her
skin. Its length covered her buttocks and came up over her back as
far as her shoulders. Immediately, she felt its warmth and tasted
its animal smell on her wet lips.

Still she
waited for the first blow to fall, but still it did not come. She
felt someone pressing between her thighs. She could not see him,
but she knew it was Calchas. She felt the long fleece against the
insides of her thighs. He pressed closer and she felt the warmth of
his cock against her wet slit. There was no need for any pressure,
the throbbing mass of his glans simply slipped between the petals
of her labia. He held it there for a moment, raising his hands and
turning his ram's head mask up towards the starlit sky. Sappho
clenched her teeth, feeling her own joy at last untethered. He
pressed his cock deep. Thick and throbbing it drove inside her,
penetrating. She felt its pulsating surface and the pulsing glans,
but that was all. Her orgasm flooded over her, her eyes rolled and
she started convulsing with a release of all that had been too long
held in. Her head reeled giddily and everything around her spun out
of control.

The silence
was broken. A great roar went up as the soldiers joined in a noisy
chant. The beach throbbed with it. They beat their fists on their
chests, or swords against shields. It was a monstrous cacophony.
Sappho's head whirled with it and her body convulsed in time with
Calchas' thrusting and the oscillating cry from all who were
gathered there.

She felt the
burst of Calchas' hot semen inside her and felt it dribbling away
as he drew his cock out. She grimaced with joy as he drove it
straight into her anus. She could not stop a fresh wave of jerking
ecstasy overtaking her as again he filled her with semen. She felt
him again in her cunt, or again in her anus, she was not sure. As
it continued she realised less. The noise filled her head, but
drifted away as though she was dreaming. In the end she did not
know how many took her, how many filled her, how many drenched her
with their semen.