Trojan Whores (13 page)

The satyr
twisted Sappho in his hands. She felt like a feather in his beastly
grip. He lay on his back, bracing his hooves against the side of
the altar. He manoeuvred her open legs across his mouth, and her
face fell against his huge, curved cock.

'Now!' he
screeched. 'Punish her!'

She felt his
talons digging into her buttocks as he pulled her onto his mouth.
His fleshy lips sucked at it, wetting her labia with his spit,
heating her succulent flesh with his own fire. His long tongue
delved inside. She held her breath. It was as if it would never
stop. It probed deeper and deeper. Its writhing body snaked,
searched out her secrets. She rose on it then dropped down. She
wanted him inside her completely.

The heat of
his cock against her cheek was almost unbearable. It rose and fell
as it throbbed. Its angular curve accentuated its stiffening beats.
Its bulbous end swayed under its own prodigious weight. She rested
against it, smelling it, savouring the promise of it, not knowing
if she dared take it into her mouth. She knew she must; it was
irresistible. His tongue stroked her cunt. She lifted her face back
a little and placed her lips around the heavy tip of his pulsating
cock.

It tasted
sweet. She sucked it. A dribble of semen oozed from it. Its salty
stickiness increased her appetite. She sucked harder. More semen
oozed out. She closed her eyes, relishing it, feeding on it.

Her jaw
tightened as a sudden smack came down across her buttocks. One of
the worshippers brought the cracking end of a leather whip sharply
across her skin. The satyr kept his grip, his clawing talons
digging deep, his clasping arms not giving way.

Sappho gasped,
but it was hopeless. Her mouth was filled with the satyr's cock and
she could not draw breath. She dipped her hips and arched her back.
Another crack hit her hard. It laced both her buttocks. She felt
the fiery tip snapping at her skin, scorching her. The pain shot up
into her chest. She gasped again, but it was an empty effort as the
satyr pushed his cock deeper and she gagged as its bulbous dome
entered her throat.

Another
snapping crack and the pains of fire filled her once more. Her head
spun as she fought for breath, but the satyr would not release her.
He held her buttocks tight, exposing them to the snapping whip,
opening them to its scorching fire. And he kept pressing his cock
further into her throat. The further it went the more it expanded
against its sides, the more it choked her.

The whipping
stopped. The satyr gripped her tighter. His tongue delved further.
His sloppy mouth sucked more eagerly at her dripping cunt. His cock
went deeper. She swallowed on it again. She felt it swelling in her
throat. He gripped her buttocks tighter, opening her to his mouth,
exposing her for more punishment.

A lashing cane
fell across her upturned buttocks. Its penetrating sting spread
through her whole body. Its intensity filled her mind. She could
feel nothing else. She could imagine nothing else. She had become a
product of the pain itself. Another slash, another burst of pain,
another breath-taking sting. She was saturated by it. Her head
spun. She sucked harder. She tasted the satyr's semen. Another
lashing crack across her buttocks. She rose as much as she could.
Her body could not stop itself. She swallowed hard. Another burst
of pain, another shudder of anguish as the suffering took complete
control of her.

She felt a
moment of relief. There was a pause. The caning stopped. She let
the satyr's cock as deep as it would go. It was inside her fully.
She swallowed on it again. She felt its veined surface inside her
throat. She did not gag any more; she simply fed on him. He was
nourishing her with his seed. She was hungry for it.

She felt a
heat against her anus. The satyr's clawing hand pulled her buttocks
wide. The heat intensified. It burned against her. Suddenly it
thrust inside, penetrating her completely in one surging entry. Her
rectum filled with it and the cock filled her throat. She swallowed
in shock and felt the scalding splash of semen from the satyr's
cock. It ran into her stomach; a gluey flow. Her anus felt to be on
fire. She swallowed and drank the satyr's flow, as her rectum was
filled by the thrusting of his clawed finger.

She was
released and fell to the floor. Her legs dropped open. Sticky flows
of semen ran from her mouth. Her sex was available and wet. Angry
red lines patterned her pale buttocks.

She stared up
to the ceiling of the temple. It was glowing red. Flames licked
around the massive columns. Braziers were overturned. Hot coals
spilled on the floor, setting light to the drapes and curtains. Air
was drawn in through the entrance in a powerful gust. It fed the
flames which quickly raged into an inferno.

Everything was
coloured by the fiery glow of the conflagration. Worshippers, their
robes ablaze, ran in panic to escape. Others flung girls to the
floor. They parted their legs and drove their cocks inside them.
They thrust wildly, desperate to reach their ecstasy, desperate for
fulfilment before they were consumed by the inescapable flames.

Sappho could
not see the satyr. The altar sank into the floor. A hole appeared
where it had been. Instantly it filled with muddy water. Fires
broke out around it.

She was pulled
into the filthy pool. Flames licked around its edges. The men who
had dragged her there held her down. They pinioned her wrists and
ankles and held her still. She choked as the muddy water splashed
over her face and into her mouth. Worshippers jumped into the
foaming pool and took their turn with her. Each one fed his stiff
shaft into her - some in her cunt, some in her anus, some in her
mouth. Sometimes two took her at the same time, sometimes three,
sometimes four. The muddy water splashed around her, wetting her
face, cooling her heat as the flames burned around her and the
temple crumbled to the ground.

Sappho opened
her eyes. She looked down at her naked, mud-stained body. Her legs
were apart, a beggar dressed in filthy rags lay with his rough,
bearded face between them. His tongue was licking at her. She
stared up at the ornate ceiling of the temple of Apollo. She did
not know how she had got here. She squirmed onto the beggar's
tongue. His slow licks were hypnotic. She drifted on the rhythm. It
was as if she was rocking on the swell of a warm ocean. She thought
of what she had seen and heard; the demon, the young girl, the
portent of impending doom, the terrible fire, her humiliation. She
looked again to the ceiling. The temple was still there. It had not
been destroyed. A surge of relief ran through her. She reached down
and pulled the beggar's face closer. The images of destruction, of
her degradation by the satyr, faded as she gripped his hair tightly
between her fingers. She tugged at it viciously, pulling him as
close as she could, tightening herself onto his delving tongue. She
opened her mouth, but did not cry out. She lay silent, gripped in
an ever-tightening seizure as she rose on the beggar's tongue in a
massive, jerking and ecstatic orgasm.

Master Wang
held Praxis' arm and led him out between the beached ships into a
clearing amongst the dunes. 'Lord Praxis, this is the mighty wooden
horse which is being built by Epeius the Persian. It is so fine I
can hardly describe it to you.'

'Try, Wang. I
must know of this wonder.'

'It is huge,
sire. As high as twenty men. It glistens like the sun itself. Shiny
scales of metal hang as armour about its massive frame. Its wooden
structure is brightly painted: red, blue, white, green. Its neck is
decorated with garlands of fresh flowers. Naked girls stand high on
ladders hanging them like pendants about its mane. They are so
excited to be close to it, they press their groins against it and
smear its body with their moisture. Colourful flags dangle on its
bridle and reins. In its belly, a heavy trap door hangs open.
Inside it is dark and empty.

'It is like
the brazen bull, Wang. It has a hollow belly.'

'Yes, my lord.
That is where the soldiers will lie in wait. And women too, I hear.
When the great horse is inside the mighty gates of Troy, then they
will spring their trap. The women will slip down the ropes which
will fall like entrails from the beast's belly. They will slide the
bolts back on the gates. Once the gates are open our troops will
flood back across the plain and into the city. Master, victory will
be in the hands of the Greeks at last. The city of Troy will be
there for the taking.'

'How do you
know all this, Wang?'

'I listened to
the great lord Achilles as he hatched the plan with Menelaus and
Ajax.'

Praxis scowled
at the mention of his enemy's name. 'What part has Ajax in
this?'

'He sails to
Teredos with Agamemnon. It is Achilles who leads the raid from the
horse. There will be many spoils from this enterprise, my lord.
There will be slaves aplenty for anyone in a position to take
them.'

Praxis
understood what he meant. He was not going to miss this opportunity
to increase his wealth and influence.

Eva stepped
forward and stood alongside Praxis. Calliope crouched on all fours
beside her, the collar around her neck. The lead attached to it
pulled tautly in Eva's hand. Eva looked down disapprovingly at her.
She snatched the lead quickly. Calliope straightened her arms, bent
her back and raised her buttocks. The oval of her sex was squeezed
between them. The slightest hint of moisture glinted on her
luscious slit. As she moved her flesh opened. The faceted golden
ring in her clitoris flashed as it caught the sun's bright
rays.

'That's
better, my little pet,' said Eva haughtily. She stepped towards the
horse and pulled Calliope behind her.

A girl was
holding a pot of paint for an artist working on the huge
construction. She wore a cotton smock, torn and splashed with
paint. One tear in the fabric exposed her left breast; small and
pert with a pink nipple. A smudge of red paint was smeared across
it. Another rip, just inside her left hip, revealed the shallow
line of her stomach as it dipped down towards her pubic mound. Her
head was shaved. The pot tipped in her hands as, tired and
exhausted in the hot sun, her eyes closed and she lost
concentration on her task. The red paint dribbled over the lip and
ran onto her exposed thighs.

'What is this
girl doing?' asked Eva arrogantly.

Epeius moved
forward. Used to the scrutiny of his Greek masters, the sculptor
and former pugilist was always ready to cater to their demands. In
keeping with his own training as a prize fighter he was strict and
cruel and treated his slaves with sudden and vicious brutality. If
they slacked he punished them with no mercy. If they were defiant
he had them removed and they were never seen again. If they worked
hard and showed the proper respect they were fed.

'My lord
Praxis, it is an honour to have you visit.'

'What is that
girl doing?' asked Eva again. 'She looks like a woman of leisure.
Surely she sleeps. And she spills the paint she is supposed to be
holding. Is that how slaves act who are in the service of the great
Persian, Epeius?'

Epeius looked
at the girl and scowled. 'Bring her to me!' he snapped.

A rope was
wound around the girl's waist and she was dragged over to him. She
pulled as hard as she could against the restraint, forcing the
muscular guard who held her to brace against her effort.

'I shall be
interested in how you punish her,' said Eva. 'Do you have some
shade for me and my pet?'

A male Nubian
slave was ordered to bring a large parasol of ostrich feathers. His
loins were barely covered by a gold-coloured scarf, the outline of
his genitals pressing against the soft material.

Eva beckoned
him, and stood motionless as he brought her beneath the parasol's
welcome shade. She tossed her head back disdainfully.

Master Wang
led Praxis forward. He sneered at Eva. She ignored him. She
considered herself immune from any threat.

Suddenly the
girl took hold of the rope and snatched it out of the guard's
hands. She placed her feet wide apart, bent her back and crouched
ready to evade recapture.

'I really
cannot believe how some of these slaves are out of control,' said
Eva. She threw back her red hair. 'I could not tolerate such
behaviour. See how my pet responds to my every wish.'

She slackened
the tension on the leash and tapped her foot on the ground a little
ahead of Calliope, who bent her elbows and dropped her face against
Eva's sandaled foot. She licked it carefully, allowing her tongue
to move slowly along the leather straps. She poked the tip between
each of Eva's toes. The leather of the sandal glistened with her
saliva.

Eva pulled the
leash tight again. Calliope sat back on all fours. Her lips
glistened.

Epeius lunged
forward and grabbed the rope that hung from the girl's waist. She
was shocked by the suddenness of his action. She clung to the rope
as he pulled her over. She fell in a heap on the ground. Dust
billowed up around her. She thrashed her feet in a frantic effort
to pull against him and escape.

'She is indeed
furious,' mocked Eva. 'But surely tameable?'

Epeius pulled
the girl along the ground. She kicked her feet and twisted her body
as she held firmly onto the rope with both hands. He dragged her to
some heavy wooden stocks. A large hole in the centre was flanked by
two smaller holes on either side. The top bar of the stocks was
lifted and, with two male slaves helping, the girl was forced to
kneel down before it. They held her neck over the large hole and
forced her wrists into the holes on either side. She was still
kicking and struggling as they dropped the bar and trapped her
between its confining jaws.