Trojan Slaves (4 page)

Sappho
realised her fingers were deep inside her cunt. She felt the heat
of her flesh around them, and the wetness that ran from her on the
upturned palm of her hand. She dropped her head forward as, gasping
with delight, she drove them further. She parted her knees,
allowing room for her hand, and thrust her hips to gain every bit
of her delving fingers. She rode them, using them to heighten her
pleasure, sucking them in, moaning as she enveloped them, gasping,
panting, biting her lips. She rose slightly as she felt her orgasm
approaching, and she opened her eyes, to take in just one last
glimpse of the young girls. She watched them, their legs
widespread, licking each other, stroking each other's cunts with
their tongues, and Sappho felt the urgency for release burning
within her. As she bit harder her lip and felt the muscles of her
body tensing with an irresistible wave of joy, she saw someone
standing in front of her. He had appeared from nowhere. He must
have been watching her all the time.

She stopped
suddenly, her orgasm held back, her hand frozen where it was, her
fingers still deep inside her. She felt a dribble of spit in the
corner of her mouth, but did not dare lick it away. Her face
flushed uncontrollably.

'What are you
doing here, girl?' asked the man sternly.

'I...'
faltered Sappho, shaking nervously. 'I do not know sir.'

'If you do not
know what you are doing we should ask Pelador. I'm sure he will be
able to give you an answer.' The man laughed and grabbed Sappho by
the hair.

'Please sir,
no. I could not bear to be shown up like that. Surely there is
something I could do to change your mind. Please sir, do not take
me to Pelador. The shame would be too great. I will do
anything.'

The man,
himself young and handsome, looked down at the shamed Sappho.
Slowly she withdrew her fingers. They glistened with wetness and
she flushed even more as she saw the young man staring down between
her legs.

'It looks to
me as though you like the games Pelador lays on for his girls. Is
that true?'

'It is,
sir.'

'Would you
like to be amongst them? Would you like to do what they are
doing?'

'Oh no, sir. I
only like to watch. It would be too embarrassing to take part. No,
sir, I could never do that.'

'And what will
you offer me to save you from Pelador's anger?'

'Anything sir.
Anything you want.'

Sappho
shivered when she heard herself saying this. She could hardly
believe she had spoken the words. But her fear of being taken
before the priest Pelador drove her to it and she repeated,
'Anything, sir. Anything.'

The young man
pulled Sappho to her feet. Her robe hung down over one shoulder,
exposing a breast. Her pale pink nipple was hard and the young man
took it between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled her forward by
it. She drew her shoulders together slightly as the pain dug into
her breast, but still she allowed herself to be led. He brought her
out, in front of the statue. She looked around anxiously, in case
anyone else could see. He brought her to the edge of the raised
balcony on which they stood. From here it was easy to see
everything that was happening below and, if they chose, anyone
below could look up and see Sappho.

'Here you can
watch, but also may be watched. Now, squat down as you were before.
That's right. Now open your knees, let me see that beautiful slit.
I want to see its wetness.'

Sappho did as
she was ordered. Trembling, she crouched at the edge of the raised
balcony and opened her legs. Her sex was still wet and, as she
opened her knees to the scene below, she felt the warm wetness on
the swollen lips of her exposed slit.

'Now, continue
what you were doing,' he said. 'Push your fingers in. Yes, like
that, deeply.'

She slid her
fingers into her vagina. They went in easily; she was so wet, so
silky. Immediately she felt a wave of pleasure come over her. The
penetration unlocked the joy of watching the scene below, the
exposure and the instructions of this unknown man. She was
overwhelmed. She did not think she could hold her orgasm back. It
was all too sudden. She threw her eyes up, her head went back and,
as she tightened all over, she was shocked by the explosive
convulsion which ran through her. It was as if she had been struck
by a bolt of lightning. Her jaw dropped. She cried out - loudly,
uncontrollably. She sank her fingers as far as they would go. She
tipped forward.

The young man
grabbed her and stopped her falling. He held her as the shocks of
her orgasm ran through her. She felt his hands against her skin as
she let her ecstasy break over her and flow.

Sappho stared
at the scene below. Pelador walked amongst the girls, their bodies
intertwined, blood streaking their pale skin, flowers sticking to
them. As he stepped between them they raised their hands towards
him, clutching at the fleece that covered his back, reaching up to
his thighs, rubbing themselves against him. He bent down to one and
drew her up to her feet. He looked at her beautiful body then
pushed her to her knees.

She remained
motionless as Pelador summoned three men. They stepped between the
other girls and stood around her. He motioned to them. Two of them
took her arms and bent her forward. The third raised a long cane
and held it over her back.

Sappho panted
as she watched, aware of her own subjugation to the young man's
will, her exposure, her overflowing pleasure. The man gripped her
tightly and she yielded to him without question as he bent her
forward.

Pelador nodded
to the man with the cane and slowly he drew it back. Still the girl
did not move. The girls around her became still. Everyone went
silent. The man held the cane high and waited for Pelador's
instruction.

Sappho bit her
lip as she waited. She felt herself bending forward as more passion
within her started to be released.

Pelador
shouted loudly and, to gasps from the worshippers, the man brought
the cane down across the girl's buttocks. They cut across her skin
and she fell forward with a piercing scream.

'Again!'
shouted Pelador, and for a second time the cane was raised and
brought down cruelly onto the girl's taut skin.

As Sappho
watched the punishment she could not stop her fingers moving up and
down between her thighs. The action flowed like music within her.
The crack of the cane as it came down against the girl's skin
coincided with Sappho's fingers penetrating as far as they could.
The relief as the man lifted the cane and the girl was saved for a
moment from punishment came at the same time as Sappho withdrew her
fingers almost completely. She rested them against her throbbing
clitoris, allowing them to hold her fleshy, swollen, pulsating
labia.

The cane swept
down repeatedly. Each time the girl's legs bent and she fell
forward. Each time she fell the men propped her back again, forcing
her legs straight and bending her at the waist. Sappho listened to
the girl's screams and they fed the fire of her own desire. She
wanted the man who held her to grab her hair. She wanted him to
throw her down and smack her across the breasts with the palms of
his hands. She wanted him to bend her forward like the girl she was
watching, and smack her buttocks as hard as he could. She wanted to
scream out like the girl. She wanted to fill the air with the sound
of her suffering. She wanted to froth at the mouth with spit. She
wanted to screech with pain until, finally, unable to stand any
more, she would fall forward and, still with his hand spanking her
buttocks, she would let her orgasm go.

Suddenly it
was silent. Sappho lolled against the young man's grip, her eyes
closed, her hand hanging loosely between her legs. She was
dissipated, exhausted. Her ears buzzed in the silence. She heard
her heart beating wildly. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath
as she struggled to regain control.

But her relief
was short-lived.

A sudden
flurry of activity below brought shouts and the sound of running
feet.

'Who is
there?' men shouted. 'Who is watching our private ceremony?'

'Who has dared
break the code of Pelador?'

Within seconds
Sappho was surrounded by angry men. They pushed the young man aside
and grabbed her roughly. She tried to struggle free, but it was
hopeless. They ripped her robe from her, exposing her nakedness to
the eyes of all, and holding her arms they marched her between the
staring congregation and down to Pelador.

Sappho stood
naked amidst the blood-smeared girls. She trembled as Pelador
approached. His mask was in the image of a ram's head. It had empty
eyeholes and huge, rough, curling horns. The ram's fleece covered
his back and was tied at his neck. Otherwise he was naked. His
genitals were large, a pendulous penis hanging between two huge
testicles supported in a stretched and venous scrotal sack. Sappho
shivered when he stood close before her.

He cocked his
masked head from side to side, looking her up and down, sniffing at
her like an animal, prodding her with a bloodstained, outstretched
finger.

No one spoke.
No one moved. Pelador stepped back and angrily shook the glinting
knife in the air.

'You dare to
defile our ceremony to Apollo?' he screamed. 'You have tainted our
sacrifice. Our god, Apollo, will be angry. He will need something
more to placate him for this sacrilege. What is your name?'

'I am...' she
hesitated. She could not speak. She was too afraid. The men holding
her tightened their grip and shook her insistently. She took a deep
breath and tried again. 'I am, Sappho, sir. Daughter of
Philoctetes. Sir, I meant no harm. I—'

'Meant no
harm?' screeched Pelador. 'You have entered the sacred ceremony of
Apollo! You have caused grave harm. And you will be punished. Here
and now, you will discover what harming the god Apollo means! Bring
her! Fetch the Chinese Master Wang. Prepare for the ceremony he
learned from the Japanese of the east. Inform him that we wish the
ceremony of Buk-ka-ke.'

Sappho was
dragged to the centre of the sunken temple floor. The dead ram was
removed from the altar block. Glistening pools of blood soaked the
smooth marble surface, and shone in the twinkling light of the
candles that surrounded it. Sappho trembled as she was led to the
altar. She did not know what to expect, and the unexpected filled
her with fear.

She struggled
as they lifted her onto the altar block. She felt the now cold
blood against her back as they forced her down. Her legs bent at
the knees and hung over the end of the short altar. Her arms
trailed at the sides. Her head hung backwards over the other end,
stretching her throat and allowing her long hair to touch the
ground. The men parted her knees, opening her legs to expose her
slit. They tied ropes around each ankle, winding them methodically
and carefully six times before knotting them, then pulling the free
ends into iron rings that were bolted to the floor. They pulled her
wrists down at the side of the massive marble block, wound ropes
around them, this time eight times, and pulled them down into more
iron rings at the side. They pulled her full auburn hair together
and wound it tightly into a rope. They led it back and pulled the
end securely into another iron ring. It held her head firmly in
place, hanging down over the edge of the altar.

Everything she
saw was upside down and the flickering lights, the scents, the
chanting and the weaving naked bodies of the blood-smeared girls
all added to her confusion and dread.

A small man,
dressed in an embroidered silk robe, came and stood at the head of
the altar. His long, twisted moustache reached down onto his chest
and his talon-like fingernails were as long again as his fingers.
He reached into the air and cried out in a shrill, high-pitched
screech.

'Buk-ka-ke!
Buk-ka-ke!'

Sappho sensed
the air of excitement around her and shuddered with fear. She saw
the men rushing around the altar, shouting wildly as they threw off
their robes. The naked girls gathered close, and as the men formed
a circle around the altar the girls dropped to their knees behind
them, waiting eagerly for what was about to happen.

'Buk-ka-ke!
Buk-ka-ke!' the small Chinese man shouted again.

Each of the
girls, their faces now pressed against the men's buttocks, circled
their hands around the men's hips and took hold of their cocks.
Some were already hard, reaching out and throbbing, others needed
coaxing and the girls pulled them gently, stretching them, gripping
them, stroking them, as they responded to their touch.

Sappho gasped.
Her mouth fell wide open at the sight which surrounded her. She
could not believe this was happening, and yet she knew she could
not doubt it.

The young men
stepped closer to her and the girls followed, some licking between
the men's buttocks as they continued to massage their cocks. Sappho
could see five of them, but she knew the circle of men surrounded
her completely. Her nostrils filled with the scent of incense and,
for a moment, she gagged as the acrid fumes filled her throat. She
watched the cocks in the hands of the girls. Their ends were
swollen and hard and, each time the girls brought their hands up
the shafts the ends swelled more fully, reddened more deeply, and
throbbed more heavily. The veins stood out as they stretched with
excitement and desire. Sappho wanted to cry out, but her throat was
too dry. Her eyes were wide and she could not close them. When she
tried to lift her head, and she felt the tightness of her hair
secured by the rope into the iron ring beneath her, her tenor only
increased.