Trojan Whores (25 page)

Praxis was
taunted by the soldiers. They prodded him with spears as he
stumbled and fell. He struggled to his feet. He reached out to
them, but they avoided him easily. When he dropped to the ground
they taunted him and spat on him. In the end they chained him and
yanked him up against the side of Ajax's beached ship. Praxis hung
against it, his muscles straining to hold his weight, his blind
eyes staring emptily out to sea.

They strapped Eva to a shield and flayed her with whips. She
twisted and writhed, sometimes screaming out, sometimes clenching
her jaws in defiant silence. One of them beat her with his leather
belt. It raised red wheals on her back. She was gagged and dragged
along the beach by her ankles. They pulled her through the lapping
waves and smeared her with gritty sand. In the end they chained her
to Praxis' feet and staked her ankles wide so that anyone who
wanted to enjoy her could. They hung a placard around her
neck:
Lady Eva, Mistress of
Slaves
.

Praxis and Eva
laid chained together for three days. Water was sloshed over them
each morning and they could lick it up to quench their thirst, but
they were given no food.

The Greek army
was preparing to return home. The beach was filled with the clamour
of armour and bounty being loaded into the ships. For all their
suffering the Greeks had little to show for their sacrifice. Their
greatest warrior, Achilles, was dead. The beautiful princess of
Sparta, Helen, its most hoped for prize and reason for the war
itself, remained unfound. The army of tribes had camped on the
beach for eleven years. They had lost many of their comrades. They
had missed their wives and their children growing up. When finally
they ransacked the city they found it without the expected spoils.
Paris had disappeared and so had all of Priam's treasure. During
the long years of siege much of the city's wealth had been spirited
away. The beach was filled with a yearning to return home. The
lightly laden boats road high in the water.

Praxis and Eva
watched as the brazen bull was hauled up the side of Ajax's boat.
Its huge carcass thudded against the black planking. It swayed
precariously on its tangle of hurriedly knotted ropes. The warm
onshore breeze whistled through its mouth and nostrils. It bellowed
and moaned as it spun giddily in its bonds. Eva remembered her own
suffering, hanging by her wrists from the oars of the same boat.
She anticipated no salvation; all she could see before her was a
life of suffering and pain.

Weena was led
up a long gangplank with others. Her petite body, her shaved head
and naked labia, glowed silkily in the warm morning sunlight. She
looked fresh and beautiful. She stared down at Eva and Praxis. Eva
dropped her eyes. Weena took it as deference, smiled and went
aboard. But it was not humility that stirred inside Eva, it was
boiling anger fed by the need for revenge. The deception which she
had been victim to filled her veins with an overwhelming and
poisonous hatred.

When his ship
was ready for sea, Ajax was brought from his tent. Calliope hung on
his arm and led him down the beach. 'Ah, my new playthings are
waiting, lord,' she said gleefully.

Eva stared
into his unseeing eyes. Ajax smiled.

'Have them
loaded. We must leave this accursed beach. Chain them in the
deepest part of the hold. And do not waste water on them. They can
drink from the bilges until we reach the welcome shores of our
homeland.'

He spat at
Praxis. The gluey froth landed in Praxis' blind eyes. It ran in
streaks down his cheeks. Praxis licked and swallowed it
thirstily.

Calliope
glanced back at Eva, but turned quickly. She threw her head back in
disdain. She marched up into the black boat, her naked body covered
only by her flowing purple robe. Her hands clung to the arm of her
patron and master, lord Ajax. She stopped at the top and surveyed
the clamorous beach.

Eva looked up
under lowered eyelids and saw the sparkling flash of light
reflected from the faceted gold ring in Calliope's clitoris. A wave
of resentment flooded over her. It mixed with a tide of vengeance
she knew could only be assuaged by the most terrible retribution.
She bit her lip and fed a finger into her sex, feeding the heat of
her anger with the flames of her passion.

Sappho and
Chryseis, naked and covered in dirt, made their way unhindered over
the sand dunes and across the great plain of Troy. Ajax had
honoured their agreement - they were free. Sappho was overwhelmed
by the feeling of liberation. Everything she saw excited her. She
felt as though she was in heaven.

They reached
the walls of the city, now holed and ruined by the victorious
Greeks. They stood hand in hand at the yawning entrance which had
been the main gate.

Three women
hung helplessly on crucifixes. Their arms were stretched out onto
the crossbeams and their wrists were secured by tight leather
thongs. Their ankles were drawn together and tied against the
upright. They had hung there for days and now, hungry and
exhausted, slumped heavily on their bonds. Their naked bodies were
laced with red lines; the result of beatings by the triumphant
soldiers who had strung them up.

Sappho stared
up at them as she walked with Chryseis between them. One of the
women lifted her face. Her head and pubic hair were shaved. She
smiled helplessly. Sappho felt compassion of the suffering woman.
Her eyes followed the strained curve of her slender waist and the
delicate rise of her hips. Again she looked at the woman's helpless
gaze. The site of her suffering let free a surge of excitement that
ran through her in a sudden shiver. The more she stared the more
she felt the heat of passion in her own sex. The more she looked
the more it increased. The more it increased the more she wanted to
satisfy herself.

She held the
woman's feet in her hands. The woman moved her toes. Sappho looked
up again between her thighs, at the pink slit of her soft sex. It
was a perfect line of pliable flesh. The lips - raised and swollen
with their own softness - edged it beautifully. Sappho lifted one
of the woman's feet to her mouth. She held her toes against her
lips for a moment, savouring their proximity, their closeness. She
felt their heat. It combined with her own. The woman's toenails
glinted in the sunlight. Sappho licked. She took the largest toe
between her lips. She closed them around it and slipped them to its
base. She sucked. The woman tensed in her bonds. She sucked harder.
The woman rose against the delightful contact. The movement aroused
the stinging left by her beating. She tightened as the delectable
blend of pain and delight raced through her. Sappho tasted the
woman's skin. She tasted the mud and sweat that clung to it. She
drew back and licked it. She took it into her mouth again and
sucked. She washed it away with her probing tongue. She drank the
liquor, stopping only for a moment to swallow greedily before
quickly returning for more.

Chryseis
pushed against Sappho. She wrapped her arms around her waist and
held her close. She draped her fingers down the front of Sappho's
smooth stomach and rested them between Sappho's thighs. Sappho
sucked harder. She felt the mounting tension in the woman's body.
She sensed the pain she felt as it increased. It was transmitted
through her toe. All her pleasure - her delight and her agony - was
being distilled through that one place.

Sappho allowed
Chryseis' fingers to open her sex. She felt her wetness, silky and
moist against Chryseis' hand. She felt the eager fingers grasp her
clitoris. She forced herself down on them to increase the pressure.
The woman tensed again; joy and pain combined. She gave a sudden
gasp, an intake of breath. She held it, keeping the moment back,
but only just. She could stand it no more. She breathed out with a
shudder as her ecstasy was released. Sappho jerked with delight. It
gripped her. It tightened her. She jolted with it. Again and again.
She dropped heavily on Chryseis' fingers. She released the toe that
plugged her mouth. She sobbed with joy.

Sappho grabbed
a goblet of wine. It had been set down beneath the cross as an
offering. She shared it with Chryseis. They laughed, grabbed each
other and moved on. They were both stimulated by their freedom, by
the destruction they saw around them, by the suffering, by the
filth, by the opportunities for excitement. Their passions were on
fire. Everything they saw fanned the flames of their desires.

They ran into
the square where the mighty wooden horse still stood. Women had
been tied upside down to its legs. They held out their hands and
begged to be released as Sappho and Chryseis rushed by. Sappho felt
her stomach fill with thrills of excitement at ignoring their pleas
for help.

They went down
an alley. A line of women had been bent over a wall. Their hands
and feet were chained to heavy blocks. They were gagged with a
wooden stick pulled across their mouths and secured behind their
heads. Sappho and Chryseis stopped and watched as a group of
defeated Trojan soldiers thrashed the women one by one. They
removed the gag before beating them, and replaced it when they had
finished.

Sappho and
Chryseis ran on. They came across a woman spread-eagled on the
floor of a grain store. She was tied by the wrists and ankles to
four large nails driven deep into the floor. She cried out as men
took turns. Her face was covered in semen. Sappho could hardly bear
to move on without licking it from the woman's face. She too wanted
to be spread out on the dirty floor and violated by the insatiable
men. She shouted out what she wanted, but then they both ran away
before the startled men realised what was happening.

They ran
through a courtyard where women were hanging in cages. They saw
women lined up on their knees waiting to be flogged. Nowhere was
safe. The city was devastated.

They kept
running through the ruined streets. Buildings were on fire. Women
sent mad by their loss searching hopelessly for their menfolk. A
girl was being spanked by an older man. He held her over his bent
knee and brought his hand down repeatedly on her taut buttocks.

Sappho
recognised the entrance to Polydorus' palace. The ornate iron gates
hung askew, the white marble pillars on each side blackened by
fire.

They went
inside. Filthy beggars drank from the fountains and pools that now
flowed with dirty water and blood. Some women covered in lion skins
emerged from behind the few still standing statues. They had taken
cover like animals during the invasion and were only now finding
the courage to show themselves. They stalked slowly on all fours.
Their lion skins almost completely covered them, their tails hung
loosely and trailed on the ground.

Sappho and
Chryseis sat on the edge of one of the pools. A discarded lion skin
lay beside them. They cupped their hands and drank the dirty water
thirstily.

A beggar,
drinking from one of the pools, himself garbed in a discarded lion
skin, suddenly ran up to one of the women. He knelt behind her,
lifted her tail and drove his cock into her anus. She yelped,
surprised and pained by his penetration. He pushed deeper. He held
onto her hips. He pounded her. She reared back then dropped her
face to the ground, lifting her buttocks to allow him the deepest
possible entry.

Another beggar
joined them. He waited until the first one pulled his cock out. He
sprang forward and threw him aside. The first bared his teeth and
growled. The second stared at him. He was more youthful and fitter.
The first backed down. The second man prowled around the woman. She
stayed on her hands and knees. She kept her face close to the
ground. He stroked her back. She licked the ground. He lifted her
tail. She responded by raising her buttocks even higher. He
presented the throbbing tip of his cock against her anus. She
allowed her buttocks to open. The muscle of her anus dilated. The
first man's semen ran from it. The second drove his cock in
straight to the base. The woman yelped. She stayed on her knees.
She pressed back against him as he tightened in a shuddering
orgasm. She fell to her side, gasping for breath, a stream of semen
running into the fleshy folds of her sex.

Sappho watched
breathlessly. The sight heated her. She dropped her legs over the
side of the pool and plunged her feet into the water. It was cool.
It refreshed her. She leant down and began washing her toes.

Another man
prowled around the woman in the lion skin. She lay on her side
gasping for air. He lifted her tail and began repeatedly slapping
her buttocks. She jerked with shock at every blow.

Sappho ran her
hands up her legs. She drew the dirty water across her skin,
bathing it, washing some of the smears of mud from it. She breathed
in the aroma from the water. It was tangy, heavy, animalistic. She
pulled her hand between her legs and splashed water on the insides
of her thighs. Some of it splattered against her labia. It ran
between them, cooling her heat, mixing with her own moisture,
enlivening her.

She listened
to the smacking of the man's hand on the woman's buttocks. The
sound inflamed her. The splashing of the water against her flesh,
the trickling sound as it ran back into the pool, filled her with a
desperate desire for satisfaction. The smacks echoed in her head.
She rubbed her wet hand against her sex. It was open, available.
She ran a finger against it. The flesh was soft and yielding. Her
heart pounded in time with the smacking hand. There was another
noise. A soft, low mewing. It reminded her of Calliope. She turned.
It was Chryseis.

Chryseis was
on all fours. The lion skin was draped over her back. Her face was
almost covered by the animal's head. Her long tail trailed out
behind her and ended in a tassel of ginger hair. She crept forward.
Sappho dropped her hands to her sides. Her legs fell apart. Her sex
was fully exposed. It dripped with water and glistened with her own
silky moisture.