Trojan Whores (5 page)

Weena's mouth
gaped, her jaw held firmly. She tried to cry out but could only
make a monotone gurgling groan. Her eyes were wide with fear.

Torches were
set in the ground around her. The glistening leather straps and her
wet skin shimmered in their light. Slowly the leather began to dry
and tighten. Eva saw it pulling against Weena's skin. She saw the
strapping digging in, pulling against the frame, binding Weena ever
tighter within its bonds.

Eva pulled
herself against the wooden tent pole. The touch of it against her
thighs instantly inflamed her. She opened her legs and squirmed
against it, opening her flesh, exposing it to the smooth surface.
She felt her clitoris hardening at the touch of the unforgiving
pole. She pressed, rubbing herself up and down, exposing her clit,
hurting it, forcing it with uncomfortable pressure to engorge and
throb. Her flesh was wet, it slipped readily against the wood. She
did not put her hand down; she wanted to feel the contact directly.
She wanted nothing between her squirming wet flesh and the hard
smooth timber.

She could not
take her eyes off Weena. She was not moving in any way, held fast
by the terrible device of metal and leather. And all the time it
was tightening, the leather shrinking. Weena's eyes widened. A
trickle of urine dribbled down the insides of her thighs, then in a
sparkling shower as it bubbled over the tightening leather strap
between her legs.

Suddenly the
flaps of the tent opened. Achilles and Agamemnon strode in. The
blinded Ajax, attended by two young girls, followed behind. He
sniffed the air. He sensed his enemy, Praxis, the one responsible
for his blinding when Calliope had tripped him onto the waiting
spears. He turned around sharply. The girls hanging onto his arms
were knocked over.

'My lords,' he
said angrily, 'have you brought me into the company of the one who
blinded me in order to further my punishment?'

Achilles
laughed. 'Ajax, it is over. You must let it go. Look, Praxis has
something here for our entertainment. A little slave girl is bound
within the "shrinking man". Come, feel the tightness of her bonds.
Feel her heart pounding. Put your face against the leather straps
and feel her panting breath.' He turned to Praxis. 'And what is the
poor victim's name?'

'Weena,' said
Praxis.

Ajax's face
filled with anger. 'She is mine!' he shouted. 'I brought her from
Troy! Now this weasel Praxis not only steals my slaves but dares to
punish them as well! My lord, I appeal to you. He has already taken
my sight. Now he deprives me of my possessions.'

Achilles
stepped forward and restrained Ajax.

'It is a
slave, my friend. You should not get so attached. I will replace
her tenfold.'

Ajax allowed
himself to be held back, but his wrath was not assuaged. He stared
blindly towards Praxis and, under his breath, uttered a cursing
revenge that he bound himself to fulfil.

After everyone
had left Eva stayed. She crept up to the silent girl, still fixed
inside the cruel contraption.

Weena could
not speak, the constriction now too tight, but she could move her
eyes. Eva looked into them; filled with fear, panic-stricken by her
treatment, terrorised by the unknown.

'Are you in
pain?' asked Eva. 'Is your new lover holding you tightly enough?
Does he have you close enough in his loving arms?'

Weena's eyes
flashed from side to side. She wanted so much to speak, but it was
impossible.

Eva squatted
down beside the captive girl. She reached forward and touched her.
Weena did not flinch; she could not. Eva felt the tension in the
girl's body. She opened her legs and exposed her slit to the
imprisoned girl.

'Look, Weena.
Can you see the glistening moisture here? Would you like to lick
it? Would you like to run your tongue against it? See how it opens
at your glance. It is expecting the tip of your tongue to caress
it. It wants to feel its heat. It wants to feel its warm fleshiness
lapping at it, slurping at it, drinking from it. Would you like to
drink from my cunt, little Weena?'

She moved
closer, pressing her knees against the bound girl. The leather
touched her skin. A thrill ran through her. She imagined how Weena
must feel - trapped, helpless, out of control. She ran her fingers
around her slit. It opened at her touch. She looked down. Her silky
moisture glistened. She parted the sparkling lips. The pink
interior scintillated in the flickering lamplight. She prodded her
fingertip against her throbbing clitoris. The contact made her
gasp. She ran the finger inside her cunt. With her other hand she
drove two fingers into her anus and rose in a heaving, long awaited
orgasm.

Sappho's wrists
screamed with pain. The thongs had tightened in the sun and now bit
into her skin. She and Chryseis were both squeezed into the small
cage. The narrow iron bars, heated in the midday sun, pressed
against them and held them fast. Neither of them could move. Two
spears were pushed between the bars and four soldiers bore the cage
high on their shoulders. It rocked from side to side as the
soldiers wove their way between the jostling crowd that crammed the
busy narrow streets of Troy.

Polydorus rode
alongside them in his ornate pony trap. Several slaves cleared the
way for him and his entourage. Everyone knew he was the king's son,
that he was cruel, and that he was to be feared. He held the reins
high in his right hand. In his left he brandished a long whip. Its
tip curled in a snapping crack whenever he lashed it against his
ponies' bare buttocks. He flicked the whip whenever he was
dissatisfied with the performance of the two women who pulled him.
Sometimes they pulled too fast, sometimes they were too slow,
sometimes they were not quick enough to respond to his
instructions.

Their
colourful plumed headdresses nodded back and forth as they jogged.
Both kept their heads up proudly. Both clasped their teeth hard
onto the silver bits in their mouths. Their sweat-glistening
bodies, taut and well defined, pulled in unison, their paces equal
and in concert with each other. Their buttocks, muscular and
perfectly shaped, were parted only slightly by the leather strap
pulled tightly between them. Their shaved labia closed around the
same strap. It rose across their lower stomach and was secured to a
belt at their slender waists. Shiny leather chest collars were
pulled tight beneath their breasts. Rings in the backs of the
collars held traces which led back to attachments on the front of
the cart. Two outriggers jutted from the shafts just behind the
women. Leather pads were wound around them, acting as breaching
when the trap slowed and pushed forward against its harnessed
ponies' buttocks. Each shaft ended in a curved hook, the end of
which pointed back towards the trap. Each hook was surmounted by a
silver ball.

They
approached a huge ornate gateway. Its doors slowly opened under the
straining hands of fearful slaves. Polydorus snatched the reins
back in his left hand. The two women halted. The padded breaching
pressed against their rumps. They let their heads rock back and
forward. Their headdresses inscribed a flashing curve in the bright
midday sunlight. They welcomed the rest, but were already anxious
to start again.

Polydorus
clipped the whip into a brass ferrule attached to the side of the
trap. He jumped down and handed the reins to a young male slave.
The two women whinnied, disappointed that they could not continue
to serve their master. Polydorus heard their sorrowful moan and
walked up to them. He stroked their buttocks and they nodded more
emphatically. He stroked them again. He ran his hands up their flat
stomachs, over the chest collars and, one by one, circled their
erect nipples with his fingers. They both thrust out their breasts,
eager for his attention, stimulated by their master's touch, still
hoping he would return to the trap and whip them back into
action.

He turned and
strode in through the gateway. 'Bring in the cage!' he ordered.
'Let us see how these priestesses take to the service of
Polydorus.'

Sappho looked
out fearfully through the imprisoning bars as the cage was carried
on the two poles into Polydorus' palace. The high, embellished
entrance gave way to a large gardened area surrounded by colonnaded
walkways topped with terracotta pantiles. In the shade of the
walkways were many doors, some ajar, some closed. Cypress trees and
obelisks were placed around the gardens. At its centre, and raised
above the height of everything else, stood a small temple with a
statue of Polydorus at the entrance. Leading down from the front of
the temple was a formal water garden fed from a spring which
emerged near the entrance. Pools descended in steps and waterfalls
flowed down from one pool into the next.

The cage was
carried to the lowest pool and dropped to the ground. Sappho gasped
as the breath was knocked from her.

Female faces
stared down at her and Chryseis. Some of them poked fingers into
the cage, some giggled. One knelt down and started licking Sappho's
breasts, squashed and unmoveable against the cage's bars. Another
dribbled saliva onto Sappho's face, pressed as it was against
Chryseis' breasts.

Polydorus
brushed them all aside. They dropped back. Some fell to their knees
and clasped their hands together in prayer. Others clung to each
other in fear of their cruel master.

Polydorus
poked a finger at Sappho, pressing it between her buttocks. She
felt its tip against her anus. She could not move. She gasped as he
drove it in to the knuckle. She felt filled by it. She wanted to
open her mouth and cry out, to expel the shock of it, but she could
not. She felt the warmth of Chryseis' breasts against her face.
They rose and fell quickly. Sappho could feel her panting
desperation. Polydorus pushed his finger deeper, probing her
rectum. She felt her anus contracting against the base of his
finger, grasping it, tightening on it in passion. She could not
help it. She knew her body was reacting to him, clamping onto him,
holding him, showing him that she needed more. She wanted to be
free from her captivity in the cage. She wanted to be able to drop
down onto it, to squirm on his penetrating finger, to open herself
up fully, to allow it to control her. She gasped with frustration
and swallowed hard.

She could do
nothing to keep it there. He pulled his finger out. She felt the
keenness of exposure as her anus was left open and dilated, still
needing, still wanting. She could not bear the abandonment. She
pictured herself on her hands and knees, begging him to fill her
again, pleading for his finger, opening her buttocks, spreading her
thighs, entreating him in every way. She thought of herself
dropping back, still on all fours, lapping the ground with her
tongue, being obedient to his wishes. She imagined herself waiting
as long as he made her, staying on the edge of fulfilment for as
long as he decided. She could only see herself under his control,
his slave, his victim, his toy, letting him control everything she
was.

'Release
them!' he shouted.

The slaves who
had carried them in unlocked the cage door. It swung open. For a
moment the two stayed in place, locked together, pressed against
each other and the cage bars. Sappho was afraid to move. She felt
strangely protected in the cage. Even surrounded by the taunting
voices and the mocking slaves she felt safe, embracing Chryseis,
feeling the warmth of her body, the sanctuary of her closeness, the
soft warmth of her breasts.

Her arm was
grabbed roughly. They were both dragged from the cage. The soldiers
tried to make them stand, but they both dropped to the ground. They
pressed against each other, still fearful of letting go, fearful of
the world outside their prison.

Polydorus
kicked at them. They shrank back. He kicked at them again.

'Get up, my
priestesses. Do not be afraid of Polydorus. I will look after you
better than your god, Apollo. See what he has let happen to you!
Oh, and your wrists are so tightly bound. You must be freed. But it
will be impossible to release you without first giving you a
wetting.'

Sappho glanced
at her wrists. She had almost forgotten how tightly she was bound
by the dried thongs. She lifted her arms and talons of pain dug
into her pain-racked body. She looked at Chryseis as she struggled
to pick herself up off the ground. Her face was covered in mud and
dust. Her short dark hair was dirty and unkempt. Tears welled from
her reddened eyes. Sappho reached out her hands. Chryseis took
them. They entwined their fingers.

'Collar them!'
shouted Polydorus. 'Come, my priestesses. You can see what the
house of Polydorus has to offer.'

Tight leather
collars with rings were buckled around their necks. Leads were
clipped into the rings. Slaves holding the leads tugged them
sharply. Sappho fell to the side, surprised by the sudden yank. The
slave pulled it again and this time she followed. Chryseis did not
respond so quickly and Polydorus snatched the leash from the
slave's hands.

'You will have
to learn not to be so slow in the service of Polydorus, my little
priestess. Here, let me show you.'

He yanked the
lead viciously. Chryseis fell to the ground choking and gasping for
breath. He tugged again. She squirmed on the ground, fighting to
get up. He tugged again and still fighting for air she struggled
onto her knees. She tried to get to her feet, but still she was not
quick enough. He pushed her over, allowing the lead to tighten
before pulling heavily again. He kicked her backwards, just to make
sure she was unable to fulfil his order. She fell again.

Sappho could
not bear to witness the humiliating punishment. She threw herself
in front of her friend, trying to protect her, hoping to save her
any more punishment.