Trojan Whores (8 page)

She was
dragged through the gardens and secured with ropes to a post. Girls
draped in lion skins and wearing lion masks roamed on all fours
amongst the bushes. They stopped and cocked their heads to the side
if they thought they heard something. They dropped down if they
thought they had been seen. Sappho saw men with the skins of male
lions and masks with heavy manes. They stalked the lionesses,
prowling around the garden, sniffing the air, growling and roaring
and scratching at the earth with their hands. Suddenly one of them
charged towards a lioness. He wrapped his arms around her waist and
thrust his cock beneath her tail. She cried out, a screaming growl,
and he howled as he thrust into her. Another came and he too fucked
the lioness from behind. Another came, and another, until she was
surrounded. They clawed at her menacingly and she cowered before
them. Each one in turn clung to her waist and thrust into her from
behind - sometimes into her cunt, sometimes into her anus. Even
when they left her she continued to whimper, growling and panting
rapidly.

When the sun
had set Sappho was untied from the post and flung back into the
dark stall. The door was slammed behind her. She had not seen
Chryseis since she'd been taken away. She felt around in the
darkness and realised she was not there. Her stomach filled with
fear. She felt desperately alone. She wondered what could have
happened. She feared she might never see her friend again, and that
she was doomed to a life of loneliness, captivity and
suffering.

She dropped
down in one corner and stared blankly into the darkness. The image
of Chryseis' beating flashed back into her mind, the sound of her
cries in her ears. Her heart raced. She thought of the girls in the
lion skins, and of the men chasing them as beasts. She saw their
tails rising in the hot sun, and she heard their cries of pain and
pleasure as the men-lions mounted their prey from behind. She
gasped for breath, and with her hands busy between her thighs, she
strained back in an unstoppable paroxysm of bliss.

Female slaves,
wearing only light pleated tunics, opened the entrance to the tent
as Praxis and Calliope arrived. Calliope looked haughtily at a
nervous Weena, who held one of the flaps. As Calliope came closer
Weena shrank back, aware of the temper her mistress had, and barely
recovered from her last punishment at her hands. Calliope hesitated
at the door, checking the anxious girl with her eyes, hoping to
find something wrong that could warrant punishment.

'Show me your
teeth,' she ordered. 'Quickly. Quickly!'

Weena dropped
the tent flap and stepped forward uneasily. She opened her mouth
and exposed her fine white teeth.

'Wider.'
Calliope peered into the girl's mouth. 'Push out your tongue. I
cannot see for it.'

Weena obeyed
and Calliope poked her fingers into her mouth. The girl gagged, but
Calliope just looked disapprovingly at her.

'Why are you
choking?' she demanded. 'Why do you gag? Can you not take a man in
here? Have you not been trained to swallow the shaft of a man?
Speak!'

Weena's face
reddened. 'Mistress, I...'

'My lord,
Praxis,' Calliope said disdainfully, 'this girl needs checking. I
fear she may be unable to carry out her duties. I think the
training Master Wang has given her has been inadequate. I shall
have to correct it.'

Praxis turned
to her. Wang tugged urgently at his arm. Calliope looked annoyed at
the man's intrusion.

'Lord,' said
Wang as he pulled more insistently. 'They have brought the "brazen
bull". It has been set up outside the main tent. None will dare
stand against you now, lord. All will fear the punishment of the
"brazen bull". All will fear the wrath of the great Praxis.'

Praxis held
out his arms. Both his large biceps were banded with tight leather
straps. He moved forward blindly. 'Take me to it. I need to feel
its power. I need to run my fingers over its muscular form.'

Wang took his
arm and led him towards the entrance of the tent.

Calliope
rushed forward, seething with jealousy. 'But the girl, my lord. Are
you not concerned about the girl? Her training?'

'Later,' said
Praxis dismissively. 'If you cannot deal with it. Master Wang will
do so later.'

Calliope
scowled angrily, but followed nevertheless. She was not going to
let Wang get the better of her. She grabbed hold of Weena. 'Be
quiet, girl. Follow me.'

Master Wang
led Praxis outside. He stood him in front of a huge statue of a
bull. Its prodigious shoulders and muscular hindquarters
beautifully cast from shining bronze, shimmered in the scorching
midday heat. Its curved horns dazzled in the sunlight. The effigy
had been fixed to the ground with iron nails. A fire had been set
beneath its belly. A door in its side, just big enough for a man to
be squeezed through, testified to its use as a torture device.

Master Wang
held Praxis' hands against the bronze flank of the tremendous
beast.

'Feel its
strength, my lord. Feel the line and curve of its mighty muscles.
Master Epeius, the statue maker and pugilist, has built it exactly
as he promised. It is truly an amazing invention. A punishment
device to rival any other in the world. Everyone who sees it is in
awe of its power. Epeius has installed the system of tubes and
stops exactly as he pledged. They run from inside the body into
outlets at its mouth and nostrils. When the victim begins to scream
- and scream he surely will when the fire is lit beneath him - the
screams will issue from the beast in tremendous bellows. Then,
Epeius says, we will call the beast the "infuriated ox". When it
announces its fury, he says, we will think it is enraged and
angered because the gods themselves have torn out its innards.'

Calliope
shrugged and turned back to Weena, who was shivering at the sight
of the terrifying 'brazen bull'.

'Not me,
mistress. Please, not me. I could not stand being shut in there. I
could not stand the heat. The sound of its fury. Please, mistress.
Not me.'

She tugged
harder, squirming to get away. Calliope grabbed her ear and pulled
her forward. 'Follow me, you ridiculous girl,' she said. Weena
scuttled behind. 'I will see if Master Wang has done his job with
you,' Calliope said, with emphasis, so there was no mistaking her
intention to embarrass Praxis' Chinese henchman.

Achilles
arrived. His princely bearing made Calliope drop back, regretting
her announcement, wanting to return to the tent, to impress
him.

'Are you
having trouble with one of your pretty maidens?' he asked.

'No, sire...
yes, sire. She is causing trouble, sire. But it is not of my
making. It is caused by...'

'But you will
correct the problem, I am sure of that.'

'Yes, yes, my
lord, I will.'

'Good. I could
be very pleased by a well-trained maiden such as you have here.
Pleased by the maiden and...' he lifted Calliope's chin,
'...pleased by the trainer.'

He marched
into the tent. Calliope went out. She stared back at Wang, annoyed
and brimming with anger. She tossed her head back and smiled at the
promise in Achilles' words. She dug her fingers into Weena's
ear.

'Master
Praxis, what have you here for me today?'

Praxis swung
round at the sound of Achilles' booming voice.

'Anything you
please, my lord, anything you desire.'

'I desire some
distraction. I need some pleasure that will make me forget the
worries of this war. Something that will put the misery of being
stuck here year after year on the Trojan beach to the back of my
mind.'

'Then you are
right to visit the tent of Praxis, my lord.' Praxis clapped his
hands together.

Eva came in.
She was naked except for a leather belt around her waist. She was
fragrant and bathed. Her body was oiled. Her long red hair had been
combed up into a fiery mane. A line of male slaves followed her. In
pairs they carried poles on their shoulders. On each pole was slung
a net, and tightly held inside each net was a captive girl.

'Who is that
at the head of the line?' asked Achilles.

'She is the
German noble, Eva. I have offered her some of my favour. She is
splendid, do you not think? Wang tells me she is the most beautiful
woman he has ever seen. He says her head is ablaze with fire. Is he
right, my lord?'

Achilles
nodded, and Praxis listened for his reply.

The captives
were paraded once around the tent. Achilles was invited to choose
one. He pointed at the one closest to him. Two slaves ran forward
brandishing knives. They slit the net and the girl fell out.

She struggled
to get up. Her mouth was filled by a leather ball. It was drawn
tightly into her mouth by thongs tied behind her head. Her wrists
were bound with leather straps. A leather collar encircled her
neck. A leash led from a ring bound into the collar. A slave
grabbed it and tugged.

'Now, my lord,
you may choose her punishment.'

'Ah, but what
is her crime?'

'She has
stolen drink from the kitchen, my lord.'

'Then bring a
bowl, and a whip,' ordered Achilles.

The gag was
removed and the girl was forced onto all fours in front of the
bowl. Two slaves were made to urinate in it. They filled it to
overflowing. The girl's head was pushed down to the bowl. The slave
holding the leash placed his foot on the back of her neck to keep
her there. Achilles took the whip; a stout leather flail with six
tails.

'Make her
drink,' he ordered.

The slave
forced the girl's face into the bowl. She spluttered as she tried
to lap hopelessly at the urine.

'Aha!' mocked
Achilles. 'Look, Praxis, one of your slaves is stealing drink. I
think she needs punishing.'

'You are
right, my lord. And there is no better hand to take on the task
than my lord.'

Achilles
brought the flail down sharply onto the girl's buttocks. She reared
back. Her face lifted from the bowl and she yelped with shock. The
slave pressed his foot harder against the back of her neck and
forced her face down again. She choked and coughed. Urine
overflowed from the bowl. Achilles whipped the leather flail down
again. It struck her buttocks and laced them with red stripes.
Again she pulled up and again she was forced back down.

Eva watched
the punishment. She ran her fingers around her leather belt,
feeling its smoothness, its tightness against her skin. Every time
the flail slashed across the girl's buttocks Eva felt a shock of
excitement in her tummy. Every time Achilles lifted the flail she
held her breath as she anticipated the moment of contact - the slap
of leather against skin. Every time she saw the girl's face dipped
into the bowl she moved her fingers further down from her belt
towards her moistening sex.

The girl
spluttered as the beating continued. Her face was red and, when she
lifted herself up urine and spit ran freely from her mouth. Her
buttocks were an angry smudge of red; the lines inflicted by the
flail melded into one. Eva closed her eyes and let the girl's sobs
fill her head, letting her fingers probe into her sex. It opened
easily and, within its moist folds, she found the tip of her
throbbing clitoris.

But Achilles
was dissatisfied. Suddenly he ordered the girl thrown into the
latrines. 'She can feast there all she wishes,' he said as, tired
of the punishment, he tossed the flail to the floor. He threw
himself into a grand chair.

Eva gasped,
massaging her clitoris, yearning for the sound of pain, her eyes
searching for the vision of servitude and punishment. She wanted to
rush forward and plead with Achilles to continue. She wanted to
throw herself at his feet, and beg him to take up the whip and
thrash her instead. Anything that would fill her with the torment
of punishment. Anything that would allow her own pleasure to
flow.

Suddenly
Calliope strutted back into the tent. She held Weena by the ear and
pulled her along on her knees.

'Praxis, what
is this?' asked Achilles, pleased with the diversion. 'Has your
beautiful assistant been planning something for us? And I thought
when she rushed out of the door with her little slave she was
hiding from me.'

'My lord, she
has trouble with that slave.'

'You surprise
me, Praxis. That a young slave like that should be trouble to your
beautiful assistant.'

'Some of these
slaves are wilful, my lord, and difficult to control.'

'Then, I
think, if the slave is stronger than the master, the master, or as
in this case, the mistress, should be the slave.'

Calliope
scowled at Praxis. Achilles saw her anger and smiled.

Master Wang
ran forward, preening at Calliope's discomfort.

'There, sire,
you have it. A trial of strength. That's what it is. Perhaps
Calliope can show you how she has taught the girl the lesson she
accused her own master of not providing?'

Calliope
scowled again. She dragged Weena forward, released her ear with a
final yank and kicked her down onto the floor. Weena shrank back,
nursing her ear, terrified.

'She has been
no trouble to me, my lord Achilles,' Calliope said, barely able to
disguise her anger. 'I quickly cured her. She is a puny maiden,
easily subdued. I do not know why Master Wang had difficulty with
her. It was such a simple matter. Perhaps my lord would allow me to
demonstrate. I'm sure my training will not be found wanting.'

'As you will.
Show your chieftain how you have subdued this terrible foe.'

Achilles
laughed heartily as Calliope pursed her lips. 'Here, girl! On your
knees!'

Weena scuttled
forward and knelt where Calliope indicated.