Trojan Whores (17 page)

Polydorus took
his whip in hand. He tested it. He threw its length back over his
shoulder. He let it rest, as if allowing it to gather its strength,
then pulled so it curled off the ground. He reached to its target.
The looping curl followed his command. He snatched it back and, in
its eagerness to obey, it snapped back so viciously its tip smoked
with a harsh, cracking snarl.

Polydorus
stood well back, facing the women's exposed buttocks.

'Raise the
shafts. My whip is keen to find its prey.'

The guards
lifted. The trap tipped back. The women were raised and flung
forward until the back of the trap hit the ground and came to a
stop. They both gasped, their heads now lower than their feet, as
the shock of the sudden stop took their breath away.

Polydorus
threw the whip back. He waited. The gasping breaths of the women
echoed through the empty square. He brought the whip forward and
released it at the one with the yellow headdress. The tip touched
her buttocks, and as it made contact he grabbed it back. The tip
cracked cruelly. It burned the woman's flesh, marking her,
punishing her transgression against her powerful master. She
tightened her buttocks in a pointless reaction. She sobbed in
pain.

'Now lower
it!'

The guards
hung onto the shafts and brought them down. They hit the ground
with a crash. The women jerked. They slipped slightly down them,
their exposed buttocks coming a little closer to the silver balls
attached to the curling hooks.

Eva heard them
gasp as their bodies were stunned by the sudden shock of the shafts
smacking on the ground. She pulled at the leash and felt the touch
of Calliope's probing tongue.

'Again! I have
only just started.'

The guards
tipped the trap up again. This time it was the turn of the woman
with the red headdress to feel the burning anger of the whip. She
screeched. Again they pulled down on the shafts. Again they hit the
ground with a thud. Again the women slid closer to the balls.

'Again!'
demanded Polydorus.

The guards
obeyed. The whip struck the woman with the yellow headdress. She
jerked as it hit her exposed skin. A red welt appeared straight
away. Again the shafts lowered, and as they hit the ground the
silver balls touched the women's buttocks.

Calliope
lapped at Eva's sex. She drew her tongue across its moist softness.
She tasted its fragrant flavour. She savoured its delicious
piquancy. She inhaled the delightful aroma and was drawn even
closer by its inviting delectability.

Eva watched
the cruel beating. Each crack of the whip excited her own passion.
Each thud of the shafts on the ground fed her own desire. She
watched the red welts spreading. She watched the silver balls first
touching their buttocks, then pressing between them. As Polydorus
reached a frenzy she saw the balls prising against the women's
anuses, opening them, then entering. She watched the whip lashing
out. She heard gasps as the shafts hit the ground. She watched them
jerking, tightening with pain as the silver balls pushed deeper,
the lengths of the hooks upon which they were placed the only
regulator of their penetration.

The wooden
horse stood as if silently on watch; the only guard protecting the
city.

Unseen, and as
if the cries of the women were a signal, the trap door in its belly
dropped open. Achilles peered down. He saw Polydorus and the guards
administering the unjust punishment in the alley alongside the
square. They were no longer concerned about the horse. The way was
clear.

A rope was let
down. One of the naked women inside the horse slithered down it.
When she reached the ground she moved aside as the next started her
descent.

The women
gathered silently beneath the belly of the horse. They stood in a
cluster; naked, anxious, waiting for a command from Achilles.

His powerful
arm signalled from above.

They ran
silently towards the gates of the city. They hung onto the huge
bolts. They strained with all their weight. The torchlight picked
out the curves of their taut bodies as they laboured. They braced
their feet against prominent features in the walls, or on the
timberwork which made up the frame for the huge gates. They
struggled to lever the mechanism apart. Slowly the bolts drew back.
The first one freed. The women pulling on it dropped to the ground,
exhausted. The second slid back; the women releasing it stood
gasping for breath, too weary to even fall to the ground.

A ladder was
lowered from the horse. Achilles climbed down. His men followed.
They ran silently to the gates.

Eva looked
down through the trap door. Her heart pounded. She licked her lips.
She knew she must not hesitate. She felt the wetness of Calliope's
tongue still at her sex. Her pent up excitement boiled inside. She
was seized with it, filled with it, but she knew she could not
release it. She eased the tension on the leash. Calliope pulled
away.

Eva took a
deep breath. 'We must leave. It is time.'

They both
clambered down the ladder and ran off across the square.

Achilles and
his men reached up and pulled on the heavy gates. First a crack
appeared between them, then slowly they swung back. The Greek army
stood outside. They had returned from Teredos during the night and
brought their ships back up onto the beach. Fully armed they had
crossed the plain and assembled silently beneath the walls of Troy.
Now they stood in the opening left by the gaping gates - shadows of
death in the iniquitous darkness of their hatred.

They saw
Achilles before them. His long black hair streamed out behind him,
glistening red like flames in the flickering torchlight. He raised
his arm and pointed into the city. A clamorous cry went up, and the
Greek army surged behind him into the unguarded square.

Chryseis swung
helplessly, upside down on the rope. She could see nothing through
the hood pulled over her head. She breathed heavily. She did not
know how long she had been there. She thought she'd heard Sappho's
voice. Her heart thumped with excitement as she imagined her friend
again. But the sound of her voice had passed and Chryseis was
thrown again into the darkness of despondency.

She widened
her eyes, staring into the blackness of the enveloping hood. Sounds
filled her head - crying, moaning, sobbing. The world seemed in a
terrible turmoil. She twisted her ankles against the rope. She felt
slackness, some movement. She twisted again. Her ankles moved some
more. Motivated by the thought of release she squirmed frantically.
She felt herself coming free from the binding rope. One last effort
and she fell to the ground.

She was
stunned by the fall. She rolled about, confused. She tore the hood
from her head. She blinked giddily in the light of lamps and
torches. Other captives still hung from the beamed ceiling of the
great room. She did not look back at them as she ran in panic. She
chased down the covered walkway of Polydorus' palace, out through
the gates. She ran towards the temple of Apollo, the only place she
knew where sanctuary might be found.

The city was
ablaze. Women were being dragged away naked and screaming by Greek
soldiers taking their revenge for years of frustration on the beach
at Troy. They were savage and ruthless. No woman was safe from
their brutality. They tied them by the wrists and dragged them
through the dusty streets by their ankles. There was no mercy for
the inhabitants of the great city. There was screaming everywhere.
It was as if the gods themselves had come down to earth to take
revenge.

Chryseis
managed to find her way to the temple. She crawled into a small
cellar and cowered between the pillars that supported its low
ceiling. She pushed herself into a cage in the darkest corner. She
quaked with fear. She squeezed her hands together tightly, dropped
to her knees and prayed to Apollo for deliverance from this hellish
nightmare.

Achilles led
the Greek army through the streets and alleys. Nothing stood in
their way. The frustration of years of stalemate was finally
released in their vengeful brutality. King Priam was killed on the
steps of his palace. The invading army burned buildings, set fire
to grain stores, polluted water supplies, desecrated temples, stole
treasure. They dragged terrified occupants from their houses and
lined them up in the streets. The men they chained, marched out of
the city, and drove to the beach as slaves. Women were herded
together and taken into the great square. They stood in rows
beneath the shadow of the wooden horse - the beast which had
brought their destruction. Their hands were tied in front of them.
Some were hooded. Some were gagged.

Eva stood with
Calliope behind a crumbling wall. Her mission to find slaves was
foremost in her mind. She watched the women who had been captured.
She was interested in the desires of the Greeks, keen to know more
about how they were best satisfied. She tugged at Calliope's lead,
who went down on all fours. She looked up at her mistress with wide
eyes. Eva rewarded her with a sharp tug at the collar.

The captured
women were filed between the forelegs of the wooden horse. They
were made to kneel and were branded with the sign of the
bronze-tipped ash spear - the emblem of Achilles.

Ajax, led by a
girl, chided Achilles for the branding. He feared the wrath of
Agamemnon. Achilles dismissed his worry.

'Achilles
fears no one. Not even the gods. There is no man who can better the
great Achilles. Even kings and princes must bow before the one who
has taken the great city of Troy. Let the world know. Achilles is
indestructible. Now, Ajax, come. We shall celebrate our
victory.'

Agamemnon and
Menelaus joined them. A great table was laid out. Chairs were
brought. Soldiers of the victorious army gathered around. They
toasted the wooden horse. They congratulated their own bravery.
They demanded pleasure from their captives.

'Let the
entertainment begin!' cried Agamemnon.

Five women
were brought forward for approval. They stood naked, their wrists
tied before them, their heads bowed. Two were red-haired, two were
dark, one was blonde. Their hair was long in the Trojan style;
pulled back from their face and hanging down between their
shoulders in a plait. Soldiers with sticks prodded them and made
them raise their hands. They poked them in the back and made them
bend over.

Achilles
ordered the blonde to be caned across the buttocks because he
thought her too slow to bend over. She yelped with each stroke. He
inspected the red wheals but was not satisfied. He ordered her to
be caned some more. She squirmed and had to be held in place. She
fell silent and was dragged away.

The two
redheads were forced down on all fours. The two dark-haired women
were bent down across them, their buttocks lifted high. Their knees
were secured to their bound wrists by leather straps passed beneath
the redheads, their rounded buttocks taut. Their sex lips were
exposed, pink and soft, glistening with moisture.

Eva wet her
lips with her tongue. Calliope nuzzled close against her leg.

Two men stood
behind the women. They held canes. They flexed them to show how
whippy they were. They held both ends and bent them almost double.
They released them to demonstrate how they sprang back with a snap.
The two dark-haired women both closed their eyes and pushed their
heads down as low as they could. The dark plait of one fell into
the crook of her neck. The other's slipped forward from her
shoulder and touched the ground.

Eva thought of
walking forward, of joining the gathering of the chiefs, of sharing
in the victory, but she did not. Watching secretly, observing
without anyone seeing her was more delightful. Looking in on what
was happening without being seen was more tantalising to her
senses. Calliope purred, sensing the heat of her mistress's
excitement. Eva stroked her and wet her lips again.

The two men
pulled the canes back and waited. Agamemnon raised his arm. The men
brought the canes down. They bent as they descended through the
air, but straightened just before they struck. There was a stinging
crack as they hit their targets. The women both reared back. They
opened their mouths at the same time. They screamed in unison. They
were twinned in suffering. The canes lifted back again. There was a
moment's pause, a moment's silence. It was broken by the swishing
sound as again they swept down. The crack fractured the air as they
laced across the upturned buttocks. Another red line arose against
the first.

Eva pulled the
loop of the leash against her sex. Calliope pulled back slightly,
increasing the tension, making the leather slip more cuttingly
against her mistress's soft flesh. Eva tightened her jaws as the
canes flashed through the air. They were raised at the same time.
They were held for a second. They were brought down together. They
worked in harmony, in a measured rhythm. Eva rubbed the leather
against her clitoris, causing it to throb, teasing her growing need
for satisfaction.

The women were
untied from the backs of the other two and changed around. The
canes punished the redheads. They lashed mercilessly, covering
their buttocks with angry red stripes. They too jerked and wailed,
but gradually fell silent. When they lay limp on the other's backs
they too were untied.

The four of
them lay on the ground, gasping for breath, shivering. Buckets of
water were thrown to rouse them. It splashed on their exposed
bodies. It slopped onto their faces. They were dragged to their
feet and made to stand in a line. They stood, their hands held up
to their faces, water running down their shivering bodies. A
soldier threatened them with a cane. They cowered before it as he
forced them to bend over. Their reddened buttocks, wet and
dripping, glowed in the sunlight. Water ran down between their
legs, over their feet and onto the ground in puddles.