Barbarian
Tales
Episode
1
Mistress
of the Sword
by
L'Espion
Chapter
18: The Queen of Uvar
Mornings light brought
a change, but not for the better.
Velag stirred himself from behind the silk curtains, a place Shailaja
had come to recognize as his private sleeping quarters although she had never
been there. Awake
already? he sneered.
Apparently our efforts last night did not tire you as much as
I thought. However, the next
few days might prove more arduous.
Shailaja thought he spoke
of further use at his hands and those of his men, but it proved to be a bit
more than that. He moved toward
her and stood over her, wrinkling his nose in
disgust. You
stink. I shall have to see you
bathed before we proceed further.
Shailaja expected him to
call on Killa and Teela as was usual, but this day was
different. He went to the door
of the tent and spoke to the guards.
Two of them stepped in, and moving to her side, rearranged her chains
so that she could walk. Her arms
were shackled in their usual position, a length of chain across her back
joining her elbows. Her ankles
were tethered by another set of chains and she was pulled to her feet and
taken out of the tent.
Movement was agony, and
she moaned in pain as she was dragged toward the
door. For some strange reason
her body was still in a state of partial
arousal. However, she ached
physically even more. Every step
sent a wave of pain through her loins and the bruises on her thighs, breasts,
and belly throbbed with the reminder of what had been done to
her. But her escort took no notice
of her discomfort, walking her between them as they took her from the
tent.
Outside the camp was astir,
men moving in all directions. After
three years as a mercenary Shailaja knew the signs well, Gorvag and his allies
were on the march. She was, however,
still so caught up in her need that she barely took notice of what was going
on, not even when she was marched through the camp to the stares and jeers
of those she passed.
She did manage to wonder
where she was being taken and that was quickly answered when they came to
a small stream that splashed over a ledge into a deep
pool. It was an ideal bathing
spot and she was ordered in.
Velag wants you clean for the march, one of the men
grinned. Though I dont
know why. You will just get covered
with dust by the end of the day.
Shailaja splashed into the
water, chains and all. There
was little she could do to bathe properly, but she could duck herself below
the surface and feel the cool water lift some of the filth from her
skin. Velag said we could
join her if we liked, one of the guards
leered. I think we should
take him up on it.
Well said, Mervan,
the other man grinned. I
could hear her clear across the camp last
night. I expect it will be most
enjoyable.
Mervan was already stripping
off his clothes and his companion quickly
followed. Shailaja stood helpless
in the centre of the pool watching them wade toward
her. However, it was not fear
that she felt, but lust. She
rose from the pool, water dripping from her taut nipples and welcomed them
as they took her. In but a moment
Mervans companion moved behind her and took her arms while Mervan moved
in front and placed his hands behind her
knees. Lifting her legs he ducked
himself and came up between her thighs.
Shailaja could have fought him, but there was no such thought in her
head. She was governed entirely
by her loins and she welcomed him as he thrust into
her. He took her hard and fast,
lunging into her like a stallion on a mare and he felt almost as
large.
She had been used hard by
Velag and her other captors and Mervans every thrust reminded her of
the ordeal she had suffered, but she could deny him nothing crying out not
just in pain, but also in passion.
It did not take long for her cries to attract
others.
Numerous soldiers lined
the edge of the pool and not a few plunged in to join Mervan and his
companion. Shailaja offered
resistance to none and was taken by several more until Gorvag and Velag suddenly
appeared at the edge of the pond.
Enough! Gorvag
roared. Were breaking
camp, not enjoying the barbarian whore.
Bring her to me and I will see to her.
To the great disappointment
of those who had hoped to use her and Shailajas equally great
disappointment she was taken from the pool, somewhat cleaner than she had
been, and stinking less from her use at the hands of men, but still aching
from their heavy use. Velag took
her in hand, marching her back to a large wagon into which the furniture
and other trappings of his pavilion were being
loaded. Revtim and the twins
were there, helping with the loading, the two girls doing their best to ignore
the suggestive comments of the men who passed
by. Fortunately for them no one
was about to abuse Velags property, not with several dozen of his
Belusendran warriors in the camp.
It was the first time Shailaja
had been outside the tent in more than half a moon and the camp was much
changed. Gorvags band had
swollen from perhaps two hundred assorted rabble to more than four hundred
with the addition of Velags fifty men and Bekors one
hundred. With a few exceptions
few of the men other than Velags warriors had the appearance of anything
resembling real fighting men.
However, in Arkana such a force was probably more than enough to deal
with anything the petty city states of that land had to
offer.
Shailaja had considerable
time to assess the qualities of her captors, as the process of breaking camp
took several turns of the glass. It
was a process that would have been regarded with complete contempt by Den,
but the Ravens were no more. They
had deteriorated into something resembling an armed mob and had it not been
for Velags warriors and Bekors militia they would hardly have
been considered a fighting force.
While she waited she was
fed and watered. She refused
to drink the wine, and could only hope that Selenes Tears could not
be hidden in the gruel that was spooned into her by
Killa.
Velag appeared before her,
his eyes lingering on the forward thrust of her breasts before
speaking. She appears a
little too comfortable. I think
a rearrangement of her chains is called
for. He motioned two men
forward. Chain her strapado
and make sure the chains are tight.
There was nothing Shailaja
could do to resist what was to be done to her, but the two Belusendrans called
over two more of their number just in
case. She was kept on her knees,
two men holding her and a third attending to her
chaining. She was first fitted
with a leather collar before Velag saw to the removing of the chains fastened
just above her elbows. Struggling
would have been a waste of time and energy, and Shailaja was very tired from
what she had been forced to endure during the night and at her
bathing. It was better to harbour
her strength in the hope that one day her captors would grow lax and give
her a chance to escape.
The release of her arms
was very brief. The chains were
transferred to her wrists, the right one
first. However, before the left
one was chained her right arm was forced upward until her hand was between
her shoulder blades. Then the
chain was pulled up to the left side of her neck and wrapped around her throat
before being pulled tight. Her
left hand was then forced alongside her right and fastened to the
shackle. It left her hands crossed
between her shoulder blades and the chain connecting them pulling at her
throat. But just to make sure
she could make no adjustments to the painful position a leather thong was
used to tie the chains at her wrists together, preventing even the slightest
movement from where her hands and arms had been
placed. The position was incredibly
uncomfortable, so much so that it almost drove her sexual craving from her
mind.
Almost.
The awkward position soon
went from being uncomfortable to painful.
As she was stood up, she was forced to arch her back, thrusting her
breasts even farther forward than they already had
been. It was the only way she
could find any measure of comfort and prevent the chain from cutting into
her neck. Had it not been for
the collar she almost certainly would have
choked. Only then was the chain
connecting her ankles removed. Free
to take a normal stride, she was marched across to a wagon that had already
been loaded and chained to the back of the wagon by means of still another
length of chain that left her three strides behind the
wagon.
Her awkward position did
not go unnoticed, her escort freely squeezing her breasts and pinching her
nipples as they took her to the wagon.
Once at the wagon, however, she was left alone, watched by only a
single guard as the others moved off to help with the breaking of the
camp.
By this time Velag, Gorvag,
and Bekor were mounted with most of their
men. They were already moving
out, leaving the wagons with the tents and other baggage to follow
later. Velags three
slaves were included with the baggage and Teela came over to Shailaja carrying
her boots. She had worn nothing
on her feet since her capture, but it appeared she was going to be allowed
some protection for her feet.
Shailaja stood on one leg
and then the other while the boots were put on her feet, an action that took
considerable concentration due to the painful position of her
arms. More than anything she
wished to sit and rest, but expected such an action would not be
allowed. It would also show weakness
and in spite of the shame she had endured she was not ready to show that
yet.
Shailaja watched as the
camp slowly broke up around her and the wagons began to
move. Pulled by the yeggers the
wagons moved slowly out of the camp.
It was midmorning by the time the last of them, the one that she was
chained to, moved out onto the road.
It was fortunate that the weather had been dry, but it was still no
easy matter to follow along in the tracks of the wagon.
The arched position of her
body made taking a simple stride painful and awkward, and following the last
wagon in the baggage train meant that she walked in the dust of every man,
animal, and vehicle. And then
there was the matter of the horse and yegger
droppings.
Horse manure is not particularly
unpleasant, as a matter of fact having been around horses since childhood
Shailaja found the texture and smell of their dropping to be quite
inoffensive. However, she had
never encountered yeggers until she left
Kaltara. They were a beast of
the midlands and the south and poorly suited to
snow.
Yeggers were cow-like in
nature, and in spite of the three formidable horns growing from their skulls,
they were amazingly docile and made excellent draft
animals. Unfortunately, their
manure was both plentiful and very strong
smelling. With almost two dozen
wagons in the baggage train, each pulled by four yeggers, the trail of manure
she was forced to step around was quite daunting.
Dragged steadily forward by the
wagon, Shailaja was unable to avoid everything on the road and frequently
waded through more than her share of yegger droppings, much to the amusement
of the men who formed the rear guard.
Enjoying you walk,
barbarian? one of them laughed.
Youre going to be a little ripe before the day is over.
I wouldnt mind
washing her, provided I get to spend a bit of time with her after,
another laughed.
Their taunting added to
her shame, but if words were the worst she had to endure she would have been
well off indeed. Stripped to
the skin except for her boots, she was exposed to the elements and found
that her fair skin was soon suffering from the burning light of the
sun. In her northern homeland
the sun was of little consequence as it lay low on the horizon for most of
the year. But in the more southerly
lands the sun burned brighter and hotter and Shailaja had learned that she
must take measures to protect herself or else suffer severe
pain.
She was denied that protection
now, and the sun soon had her burning, her only protection her unbound hair,
which streamed over her back and
shoulders. She was also desperately
thirsty, but was offered nothing to drink, not even when the column rolled
across shallow streams.
Shailaja was almost tempted
to throw herself into the water and drink her fill as the wagon pulled her
though it, but she feared that if she did so her captors would not stop to
let her rise, and the vision of being dragged behind the wagon kept her from
taking such rash action.
Even worse that the thirst,
however, was the constant ache between her
thighs. Each time her eyes fell
upon one of her escorts she wished him between her legs, satisfying her primal
urge. She was dismayed that
abstaining from drinking the drugged wine had not lessened her desires even
slightly. Neither the burning
sun nor the torment of her thirst distracted her for more than a few moments
from thoughts of carnal enjoyment and she wondered if the affects of the
drug she had been given might be permanent.
Halfway through the afternoon
Quorash dropped back to look upon her.
It would have been difficult for him not to notice her burned skin
or that fact that she was barely able to walk through of lack of water, but
he did not comment on her condition, saying only: We camp soon,
slave. Velag has promised me
a turn between your thighs tonight.
It will give you something to look forward
to. Then he was gone, leaving
Shailaja to labour on as best she could.
Camp was made a short time
later and it was only then that Velag came to inspect
her. Shailajas was the
last wagon to roll into the spot chosen, and she limped in after, barely
able to stand, her skin on fire and her throat dry as
dust. When he saw her his reaction
was immediate, and somewhat surprising.
What has been done to her?
Why was she not dressed properly for protection against the
sun? And why was she not given
water?
His anger was so great that
none dared reply and he called for Selvan to attend
her. Then he called for his three
slaves. Which of you was
it who dressed her only in boots? he demanded.
Teela knelt before
him. It was I
master. She made no excuse
for herself, no doubt fearing worse punishment if she pointed out that she
had not been told to dress Shailaja in more than her
boots. Indeed Shailaja suspected
Velag had given that very order, and was now angered that his prize possession
had been spoiled.
By now Selvan had
arrived. He held back nothing
when he saw her. What fool
left her to walk all day in the sun
unprotected? He turned
on Velag. Your exotic toy
will give you little pleasure tonight, my
lord. Thanks to your cruelty
and neglect you will be lucky if she is able to serve you for some
time.
If anyone other than Selvan
had addressed Velag in such a way, he would probably not have lived out the
day, but a healer of Selvans talents was rare, and Velag said nothing
in reply. Instead he set upon
his body slaves. You are
fools who neglected your duty, and you shall be
punished. Teela who was
already on her knees gave a little moan of fear, while Revtim and Killa
prostrated themselves before him, but Shailaja was having none of
this.
She stood as straight as
she could, somehow finding not only the strength to stand tall, but finding
strength in her voice as well.
You are a coward,
Velag. You punish others for
your own stupidity. Were I free
you would run from me with your tail between your
legs.
This brief speech exhausted
her, and she fell to her knees, somewhat spoiling the effect, but it did
succeed in diverting Velags attention from his hapless
slaves. You will find,
slave, he growled, that you do not need your tongue to pleasure
me.
He turned to his three slaves,
his anger with them now redirected.
Fetch water and clean the filth from
her. It is time for our barbarian
slave to learn the importance of holding her
tongue.
It was done as he
requested. While Shailaja knelt
on the ground Killa, Teela, and Revtim doused her with water until the dust
and filth of the road had been cleaned from her
body. Then she was hauled to
her feet and at Velags directive bent back over the back of the wagon
she had been chained to.
Velags punishment
was public, painful, and degrading.
While Shailaja whimpered in pain he unlaced his breeches, spread her
legs and entered her. She cried
out, but not just in pain. The
response of her body shamed her as nothing else
could. She cried and moaned in
pleasure as he took her, revealing to all just how helpless she was to resist
him. Fortunately, Velag was more
interested in punishment than truly enjoying the fruits of her
body. He used her thoroughly
and painfully, driving deeply within her and ignoring any pain caused to
her badly burned body as it was ground against the bed of the
wagon.
So brutal was the attack
that by the end of it Shailaja was close to unconscious from the
pain. When Velag had finally
satisfied himself, he stepped back from
her.
See to her,
he ordered Selvan. I want
her well as soon as possible.
Then without another word he turned and strode
away.
The healer moved toward
her and then the world darkened around
her. She fought to stay awake,
not wishing to faint like some weak girl, but her injuries and the pain of
her ordeal would not allow it.
Blackness claimed her and with it a brief time of
peace.
Shailaja awoke in the familiar
surroundings of Selvans tent, a place she had seen more than enough
of, but at least she was away from Velags and Gorvags cruel
attentions. Her chains had been
removed and she had been placed on her belly, however, she was not free to
leave even had she been physically able.
Two of Velags warriors stood beside her bed and kept a watchful
eye on her while Selvan attended to her.
He had already begun his work, her body smelling of the sweet-scented
salves he had placed on her burns.
With Velags men in
close proximity there was no chance for Shailaja to consider escape, even
had she been physically able. She
still burned from the affects of the drug she had been fed, its intensity
undiminished. Had the two guards
chosen to use her she could not have resisted them and she could do little
more than grit her teeth and try to ignore the sensations that swept through
her body as Selvans hands moved over
her.
The healer must have known
something of her suffering as he ceased his attentions long enough to offer
her a potion Against the pain, so he
said. And he insisted that she
drink it. She soon felt its effect
and her vision clouded once again as she drifted off to
sleep.
The next time Shailaja awoke
she was no longer in the tent, but in the back of a
wagon. She was alone, but the
absence of Velags men did not improve her chance of
escape. Most of the pain of her
burns was gone, but she found that her ankles were once again shackled and
she had little doubt that her guards were not far
away.
She was somewhat confused
until she realized that the army must once again on the
march. It made sense that they
would not leave her behind, but at least she was not forced to walk chained
behind a wagon.
That comfortable circumstance
lasted only one day. That night
Velag came to check upon her and in spite of Selvans assertions that
she was not healed she was once again taken to his
tent. She was marched nude through
the camp and once more upon the thick rug of his tent she was placed on her
knees before Velag and his ever present companions, Gorvag and
Bekor.
Once there she was again
treated to another session identical to what she had endured
before. She quickly found that
in spite of what she had endured her primal urges had in no way
diminished. Her moans and cries
could be heard throughout the camp as she was used again and again until
her captors were finally satiated.
The morning before camp
broke Selvan visited her in the tent.
He glared at Velag, angry that his advice had been
ignored. If Gorvag insists
that I remain then I should be heeded.
You have used this girl beyond her
endurance. If you do not wish
her to fall ill she must be given a chance to
heal.
Velag frowned, clearly not
happy about being spoken to in this manner by the irascible
healer. She is mine to
do with as I please, he responded.
I will use her as often and as hard as I see
fit.
Then at least allow
me to give her something that will help her survive the punishment you dole
out each night.
What is it?
Velag asked, looking suspiciously at a blue bottle Selvan had produced from
the folds of his robes.
A
restorative. It will help with
the healing process and increase her stamina.
Give it to me,
Velag demanded. He took the bottle
from Selvans hand and removed the cork
stopper. Then he carefully held
it to his nose.
He coughed and quickly pushed
the bottle away from his face.
I do not think I have ever encountered anything more
vile.
Good medicine always
tastes bad, Selvan proclaimed.
Have your slaves give her a dram of this each day in her wine
and make sure she takes it.
Velag
shrugged. It will be done
as you suggest.
Shailaja was not pleased
by this. Selvans advice
would mean that she could no longer avoid the cup of drugged wine that was
given to her each day. It seemed
she was doomed to remain Velags obedient slave.
The next day and the day
after that her life continued as before.
She was chained behind a wagon and forced to walk in the dust and
the filth of the baggage train.
This, time however, she was properly dressed, her pale skin protected
from the elements. She was also
chained so that she could walk comfortably, or at least relatively
so. Both wrists were enclosed
in manacles, but at least they were chained in front with the other end of
the chain secured to the back of a wagon.
There was enough slack that she could walk with her arms lowered,
but it was still not a pleasant existence even if it kept her in readiness
for the nightly sessions with Velag.
By day Shailaja was filled
with despair, forced to follow an army led by men she despised.
At night it was even worse as
she willingly served those same men, her cries of passion loud enough to
prevent sleep in most of the camp until her captors were through with
her. Each morning her aching
loins reminded her of how she had been used, but there was no escaping a
repetition of what had happened the day
before. Still gripped in the
fever of desire, she spent the day both longing for and dreading the night,
and then gave way to shameless lust as soon as Velag called her to
him.
It was a shameful and hopeless
existence, and it was steadily wearing her down and then on the fifth day
everything changed.
Gorvag and his allies were
now deep in the territory surrounding
Uvar. Gorvags army had
encountered no resistance and expected none and as a result the army was
spread out upon the road in a manner most inviting to an
enemy. It was passing through
a thickly wooded area when the attack
began.
It was well staged, targeting
the weakest part of Gorvags army, the baggage train, and it began as
a hail of arrows and quarrels that threw Govags army into
confusion. The yeggers hauling
the lead wagon went down, bringing the column to a halt and making easy targets
of the rest of the wagons. Hidden
in the trees, the attackers kept out of sight, shooting into the disorganized
mass that was most of Gorvags army.
Most of the rabble that Gorvag had recruited ran, some sheltering
behind the wagons and some going even further into the woods on the side
away from the attack.
That turned out to be a
serious error as they encountered a second force hidden among the very trees
in which they sought shelter.
Caught between two forces, most of Gorvags men threw down their
arms and ran for their lives, leaving the baggage train to the
enemy.
Chained behind the last
wagon Shailaja could only watch as the battle raged around
her. By some strange chance she
was not targeted even though several arrows and quarrels passed close to
her.
A veteran of many battles
she was able to determine that the attack was delivered by a relatively small
force, certainly smaller than Gorvags, but they had the advantage of
surprise and they were fighting on their own land.
As Gorvags men broke several
dozen horsemen charged from the trees intent on completing their
victory. They ran down the fleeing
remnants of the escort, killing any who dared to
stand. Several others broke off
prepared to fire the wagons.
It was a complete route,
or would have been except for one thing.
Velags men and the warriors Gorvag and Bekor had with them as
their bodyguard did not run. Riding
at the front of the column they were far removed from the point of
attack. A hundred strong they
wheeled and rode the length of the column, the first of them arriving just
as the Uvarian cavalry burst from the trees.
The Uvarian captain turned
to face them followed by a dozen riders.
He rode straight at Gorvag hoping to disrupt the counter-
attack. The horses crashed together
sending men and mounts spilling in all
directions. Strung out along
the baggage train, Gorvags forces were arriving piecemeal and for a
few heartbeats the Uvarians had the
advantage.
The captain drove his horse
into Gorvags mount, knocking him
sideways. The horse stumbled,
throwing Gorvag from the saddle and leaving him to the captains
sword. For a brief moment Shailaja
thought she was going to be denied her chance at vengeance and suddenly Velag
arrived. Driving forward, he
engaged the captain in a one on one confrontation that decided the
battle. It was a mismatch, Velag
towered over his opponent. He
struck hard, beating down the captains guard, and then driving forward,
knocked him from the saddle. The
defeat of their captain had an unexpected
affect. Instead of being demoralized
the remaining Uvarian cavalry redoubled their efforts, hurling themselves
into to the battle without regard to their own
safety. To Shailajas further
surprise the lightly armed crossbowmen and archers that had hidden in the
trees also joined the battle in a desperate attempt to turn the
tide. But it was already too
late; more and more of Velags men arrived and with the help of
Bekors bodyguard the Uvarians were simply
overwhelmed.
Quite suddenly the battle
was over. Not an Uvarian remained
standing, all having been killed or
wounded. Their attack had achieved
partial success, several wagons in the baggage train were aflame, and dozens
of yeggers had been killed, but the attack had killed very few of the elite
troops, leaving the core of the army
intact. Most of the dead were
the undisciplined rabble Gorvag had
recruited.
For the Uvarians the cost
had been high. They had lost
all of their cavalry and most of their foot soldiers and
archers. Shailaja wondered at
their foolish bravery in leaving the shelter of the trees in order to hurl
themselves into battle against heavily armed
cavalry. But that was explained
very quickly as Velag dismounted and strode over to the Uvarian
captain.
The warrior appeared
unconscious, but stirred as Velag neared.
Velag raised his sword and Shailaja expected the captain was about
to meet his end. Instead Velag
used his weapon to knock the captains sword out of reach and then stood
over his defeated foe.
Gorvag, who had regained
his feet after being knocked from his horse, limped
forward. The bastard got
lucky, he growled, Drove his horse into
me. Im going to enjoy gutting
him.
Hold, Velag
said, raising his hand. I
think we have a bit more here than meets the
eye. He motioned Quorash
forward. Remove his
helmet.
The man on the ground attempted
to pull out his dagger, but Quorash pinned his hand to the ground with his
foot and using his own knife, cut the laces on the captains helmet
and then wrenched it from his head.
Dark hair spilled over the
captains shoulders, revealing why the Uvarians had fought so
hard. Shailaja immediately recognized
Hestia, the Uvarian queen. She
gazed up at Velag, her dark eyes filled with anger, and just a hint of
fear.
The Queen of Uvar,
Gorvag muttered. She is
indeed a prize. It is well that
you stayed my hand. She will
prove far more valuable in other ways.
His meaning was not lost
on anyone around him, least of all
Hestia. As she was hauled to
her feet she looked Gorvag in the eyes.
Do what you want, she said, her head held
high. My people will avenge
me.
It was clear to Shailaja
that the queen was holding herself erect by sheer force of will, a truth
that was confirmed as she suddenly swayed and would have fallen had not Quorash
caught her. We will see
just how strong you are, Gorvag
leered. Your delivery into
our hands has made certain the fall of Uvar, and will provide us with a most
pleasant diversion.
Hestia recovered enough
to glare her defiance. There
was no mistaking Gorvags threat, but she met his eyes without
flinching. Even dishevelled from
her fall she was undeniably beautiful with high cheekbones, ravens
wing hair, dark eyes, and full enticing
lips. Shailaja knew from her
previous meeting with the queen that she had seen over thirty springs, but
she appeared much younger. I
fear nothing you can do, Hestia
answered. She raised her chin
higher as though daring Gorvag to carry out his
threat.
No doubt he would have done
so had not Velag intervened.
Leave her for now. She
will provide much better sport later when she is
rested. In the meantime we should
attend to setting up a camp. We
can go no farther today.
Reluctantly Gorvag
nodded. His gaze drifted toward
Hestia. You are
right. It will take us some time
to set right the disorder the attack
created. In the meantime our
barbarian will have someone to keep her
company. He motioned to
the men who held Hestia.
Place her majesty with the
barbarian. Make sure she is well
secured.
Hestia was marched over
to where Shailaja waited. The
manacle holding her left wrist was removed and locked around the queens
right. It still left Shailaja
more than secure, especially as both men remained with them as
guards.
Hestia looked at her curiously,
but said nothing. Shailaja detected
a hint of recognition in her eyes and expected she remembered the tall redheaded
warrior from the year before. It
was clear that she probably wondered about her circumstances, but with the
two guards just a yard away she kept
silent.
Gorvag and Velag moved off
to attend to the establishing of the camp, a duty that occupied them for
several turns of the glass.
Although the Uvarian attack had ended in disaster it had thrown the
baggage train into complete confusion.
Many of the yeggers had been killed and several wagons set on
fire. In addition, those of
Gorvags rabble who had fled the battle had to be tracked down and ordered
to return. As a result it took
until nightfall to properly establish
camp. During that time Shailaja
and Hestia remained where they were, trying to get as much rest as
possible.
Shailaja knew that the queen
was probably terrified; wondering what was going to happen to her as
Gorvags captive. Considering
what Shailaja had suffered there was little she could do to reassure
her. She could only pretend
indifference to her captive state and hope that her calm demeanour would
transfer itself to the queen.
Shailaja settled on the
ground, glad to be given a chance to rest after her forced march behind the
wagon. After a time she actually
managed to get a little sleep, but that was not to last
long. Eventually the camp was
established, the cooking fires lit, and the evening meals prepared.
She was not taken to Velags
tent, but remained beside Hestia.
It was a change of routine she could not help but notice especially
when food and drink was brought to them where they were.
Not surprisingly Hestia
ate very little. Shailaja could
almost smell her fear as she sat beside her even though the queen did her
best to hide it. A month as
Velags captive had left Shailaja resigned to what was going to happen
and she was glad of the chance to escape the humiliation of being fed by
Velags slaves.
Supper over and the camp
established to the satisfaction of the Ravens leaders, they turned
their attention to their latest captive.
In honour of Hestias status the entire camp was assembled to
witness her humiliation.
She went bravely, head held
high and showing not the least sign of fear although Shailaja had no doubt
that she was probably terrified.
The queens wrists had been bound behind her and she must have
known what was going to happen, but she went bravely,
nevertheless. She had largely
recovered from the injuries suffered in her defeat and capture and walked
without assistance, coming to a halt in front of the trio of Gorvag, Velag,
and Bekor. She stood silently,
ignoring the comments from the assembled brigands as to what they were going
to do to her.
I have wanted to see
you like this ever since I first laid eyes on you, Gorvag said, and
now I have my wish.
I doubt that not,
Hestia replied loud enough for everyone to
hear. It suits the character
of a coward.
Gorvag frowned his
displeasure. Remove her
armour, he growled.
For Shailaja the scene brought
back painful and all too familiar memories of her own shaming at Gorvags
hands. But another form of shame
assailed her as the Uvarian queen was
humiliated. She should have felt
nothing but anger, but instead felt an unmistakable stirring in her
loins. Incredibly, the ordeal
of the captive queen inflamed her in a manner that had her panting with
desire. Only the fact that the
degradation of the Uvarian queen drew all eyes saved her from further shame,
but it did not save her from herself.
Shamed that she should be aroused by the degradation of another she
wished that her captors had killed her rather than subjecting her to this
never-ending ordeal. But it was
to get worse.
The first part of Hestias
shaming was soon completed. She
stood revealed in just her underpadding and the light tunic and trousers
she wore beneath that. Gorvag
stepped forward and took out his knife.
Now lets have a better look at you, he
sneered. With a couple of quick
slashes he cut through the ties holding the quilted padding to Hestias
body, allowing it to fall at her feet.
Through all this, Hestia
stood immobile, eyes fixed straight
ahead.
Shailaja knew that the
queen was suffering the same humiliation that she had endured when Gorvag
had stripped her, but the ugly spectacle left her filled with desire rather
than pity. She wanted to lower
her eyes so as not to witness any more of the Uvarian queens degradation,
but she looked on fascinated as Gorvag continued his shaming of his helpless
captive.
Gorvag sheathed his knife
and for the first time laid his hands on the queen, placing his hands on
the swell of her breasts, fondling them through the thin material of her
tunic. It was only then that
Hestia reacted. Unable to break
the grip of the two men that held her, and with her hands bound behind her
back she could only spit into his face, her features reflecting as much contempt
as she could muster.
Needless to say, Gorvag
was not amused. Slowly he wiped
the spittle from his face and then delivered two hard slaps to the helpless
queens face. The blows
left her momentarily stunned and unable to react to what Gorvag did
next. Placing his hands at the
top of her tunic he flexed his muscles and tore the garment open, revealing
Hestias breasts, and then with a further tug he ripped the remaining
shreds of cloth from her torso.
Although Shailaja understood
that Hestia had seen at least thirty-five springs her body was that of a
woman barely into her second decade.
Tipped with copper-pink nipples, her breasts were large and rounded;
not as large as hers, of course, but then Hestia stood more than a head
shorter. They were well displayed
and emphasised a narrow waist and flat athletic
belly.
Recovering from the blows
Gorvag had dealt her, Hestia coloured as her body was
revealed. She sought to pull
her arms free, the movement of her body causing her breasts to sway most
invitingly.
It was an invitation that
Gorvag could not resist. Once
again his large hands found her body, the pressure of his fingers on her
breasts causing her to gasp in pain.
She attempted to arch away from the pain, but Gorvag stepped forward
and punished her, twisting her nipples until she cried
out.
Her agonized reaction stirred
Gorvag to the next step. He ripped
open the brief trousers Hestia had worn under her armour and finished by
tearing them from her body.
Hestia stood stripped and
shamed, panting from fear and her efforts to
escape. Gorvags next step
was completely predictable, but he surprised
her. Taking a step back he turned
to Bekor. Your enemy is
magnificent is she not, Your Highness?
She is indeed,
Bekor replied, his eyes drinking in Hestias
body. A fine prize, and
soon her kingdom will be mine.
Perhaps you would
like an early taste of the fruits of victory. Gorvag
grinned.
I would, Bekor
smiled, his hands already moving eagerly to the ties binding his
trousers.
You are not a prince
or a warrior, Hestia said, drawing herself
up. Even stripped and helpless
she appeared magnificent, her large breasts quivering and a deep flush suffusing
her upper body. Between her legs
the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs drew Bekors
eyes.
But it is not I who
am in chains, Bekor countered.
However, a slight flush stained his features showing that the
queens scorn had scored. He
turned to Gorvag. Perhaps
before I begin, her majesty should be prepared in the manner of the
barbarian.
An excellent
suggestion, Gorvag grinned.
It will serve to show our royal prisoner what she has truly
become.
Bekors suggestion
was instantly carried out. Velags three slaves were summoned from his
pavilion. They appeared almost
immediately, dressed for the occasion in modest tunics that screened their
bodies from the assembled army. It
seemed that in the case of his personal slaves, their bodies were for
Velags eyes alone.
Hestias eyes widened
in fear as the three body slaves
appeared. No doubt she expected
some especially cruel and painful torture and indeed, she might well have
preferred pain in place of what was done to
her. Of those watching Shailaja
was the only one other than the three captains who knew what Hestia was about
to experience. It was a procedure
that she was forced to submit to daily, but had still not gotten used to
it. The custom of removing the
fleece from between a womans thighs was common in many regions of Vedra,
but in the north and central kingdoms it was not the usual practice and when
carried out it was most often done to humiliate and debase a female
captive.
That was clearly the motive
in the shaving of Hestias dark pelt, and the expression on her face
as she was held down with her legs apart, while Revtim applied the razor
showed she understood it full well.
There was little doubt that
Bekor intended the shaving of the captive queen to truly show her the reality
of her situation and to reinforce the knowledge that she was completely at
the mercy of her captors. When
it was finished she glared at the man who had ordered the degrading procedure,
but in her eyes was the clear knowledge that she was now no longer a queen,
but instead a thing to be used by her captors in any way they
chose.
Hestia struggled with the
emotional shock of her degradation.
To be a queen one moment and then be reduced to the status of slave
the next was an almost soul destroying
experience. As bad as it had
been for Shailaja, at least her experiences prior to her capture had prepared
her for the shame that was heaped upon
her. Hestia had no such
preparation. She had fallen suddenly
and very hard; and it was about to get worse.
Now, your majesty,
Bekor sneered, it is time to show you what you have truly
become. I think after the fall
of Uvar I will keep you as my personal slave, at least until the bloom of
your beauty has vanished. And
then I will give you to my men to use as they
will.
You wont break
me, Hestia replied defiantly.
Shamed and held by two men, she still radiated a sense of majesty,
but that was to disappear all too quickly before the night was
gone.
Lift her up,
Bekor commanded, and spread her legs.
Hestia fought in spite of
the utter hopelessness of her situation.
She was lifted by one man, his hands just below her breasts as he
supported the weight of her torso, and then two more took her legs, placing
their hands under her thighs as they drew her legs
apart. Her wrists bound behind
her, she could do little more than heave her body and attempt to wrench her
legs free, actions that did nothing to free her, but almost certainly had
every man watching in a state of arousal.
Shailaja know that was certainly
the affect on her. Selenes
dew flowed freely within her, and it was all she could do to hold back her
moans of desire as Bekor moved between Hestias thighs and began to
enjoy her.
He took her as hard as he
could, but as Shailaja had learned Bekor was hardly a man to be feared in
terms of his maleness.
Nevertheless, for the Uvarian queen it must have been a brutal and
painful experience. She grunted
in pain as he pierced her, and like many women attempted to arch away from
the attack. Shailaja could hardly
contain herself, biting her lip to keep from revealing her
passions. As Bekor continued
to plunder the helpless queen she could not help but let a whimper escape
her lips as she watched in sheer torment.
Bekor used the queen hard,
driving into her with all of his strength and using his hands to maul and
pinch her magnificent breasts. All
the while Shailajas state of arousal increased, until by the time he
was finished she was in such agony she was close to
screaming. And then it was
Gorvags turn.
His assault was quite different
from that of the Cebarian prince.
Even before he took her, Hestia moaned in fear at the sight of his
member and when he thrust into her, taking her all at once in a single savage
thrust, she screamed. It was
a long sobbing cry and it was one that Shailaja almost echoed as she watched
the queen being brutally ravaged.
Enjoying the show,
my barbarian?
The question came from
Velag. In her private torment
Shailaja had not noticed him watching her, but it was obvious that he must
have been observing her for quite some
time.
Shailaja turned toward him,
her face reflecting her inner torture.
It is not right to treat a woman so, she protested.
Please do not make me
watch.
To her surprise Velag seemed
to agree with her. Indeed
you have watched long enough, he
said. It is time you became
part of the show.
His answer was not quite
what Shailaja had hoped, especially not when he had two of his men escort
her to the place where Hestia was being ravaged by
Gorvag.
It was a well lit area,
being illuminated by several campfires that had been placed to their greatest
advantage. Off to one side, just
a few yards from the moaning and weeping Uvarian queen was a large tree,
something that Velag had no doubt almost certainly planned to make use of
from the beginning.
Barely able to contain her
desire Shailaja was marched beneath a large overhanging
branch. Her wrists had been bound
in front of her and now a rope was tossed over the branch and her arms drawn
over her head. The rope was tightened
until she was forced to stand on the tip of her toes and then Velag undressed
her.
It was a relatively easy
operation. Since the beginning
of her nightly sessions in his pavilion Shailaja had been given clothing
that could be removed with just the loosening of a few
ties. Within a few heartbeats
she was stripped, her tall body revealed for all to
see.
To her shame, there was
something else for them to see as well.
Selenes grotto was so moist that she could not contain all of
the moisture within her. You
see, Velag proclaimed, the barbarian whore begs to be
used.
Shailaja was unable to deny
his accusation; her swollen petals, taut nipples, and heaving breasts were
all clear evidence of the truth of his
statement. As Gorvags fingers
found her breasts she moaned in eager
anticipation.
Two men moved forward and
lifted her as Hestia had been lifted, but they had no need to force her legs
apart; her limbs parted on their own.
In a moment Velag moved between them and her cry of pleasure sounded
throughout the camp and he thrust deep into
her. As usual with Velag, there
was pain, but in no way did it dull her
ardour. She cried out again and
again as he plunged within her and she screamed in pleasure as his lips found
her engorged nipples.
Gripping the rope that bound
her wrists, she heaved herself upward that she might better position her
body to receive Velags thrusts while at the same time wrapping her
legs about his waist to draw him more deeply within
her. So thoroughly did she enjoy
him that she was oblivious to the cries of another; that of Hestia as she
was turned over to the men of the encampment to use as Bekor and Gorvag had
already used her.
So too was Shailaja used,
but her moans, groans, grunts, and whimpers were of pleasure and she urged
each man on as she was taken again and
again. It was not until just
before dawn when the last man finished with her and she hung exhausted from
the rope, barely supporting her weight on trembling legs.
She was then taken down
and returned to Bekors pavilion.
There she got something of a surprise as she was escorted to the rug
that served as her sleeping mat.
Lying on a separate rug was the semiconscious form of the Uvarian
queen. Her nude body was covered
in bruises and her thighs were bloodied as a result of her
ordeal.
She did not move even to
raise her head as Shailaja settled beside
her. Shailaja expected to be
chained as usual, and she was, but this time with a
difference. Instead of being
secured to the heavy iron stake she was chained to
Hestia. It was a rational
arrangement. She was hardly likely
to escape if she had to drag the beaten and exhausted queen after
her.
However, the sight of the
defeated and violated queen had another affect on
her. She felt a sense of shame
deeper than anything she had yet
experienced. It completely wiped
away the powerful urges that had so dominated her just a few hundred heartbeats
earlier and left her feeling completely
degraded. Her eyes filled with
tears and for a few moments silent sobs shook her body as she also was overcome
by a feeling of complete hopelessness.
How could she fight the urges that swept through her at the sight
of a man? She knew though that
somehow she must find a way. It
was either that or face a lifetime of
captivity. With that disturbing
thought rattling around inside her head she found sleep and did not awaken
until morning.
When Shailaja did awake
it was to moans of pain and the now more than familiar soreness between her
thighs. The moans, however, were
not hers, but came from Hestia. The
Uvarian queen had been heavily used and Shailaja had little doubt that her
pain might be even greater than hers.
Dark eyes opened as she
watched and looked into hers. At
once the moans stopped although Shailaja could tell that the queen was still
in considerable pain. You
are the one that was used as I was, Hestia stated, managing to rise
up on one elbow.
That is so,
Shailaja agreed, her sense of shame welling up within her once
more.
But even though you
are chained you seemed to welcome what was done to you, Hestia said
accusingly.
That is also true,
Shailaja replied.
How can that be?
she asked. I remember now
that I have seen you before as a warrior of the mercenary band that served
Uvar two seasons ago. How is
it that you have been brought to such a state?
I was betrayed and
enslaved, Shailaja answered, and tricked into consuming a foul
potion that has corrupted my nature.
Hestia was about to reply,
but at that moment the flap of the pavilion was pushed aside and Velag entered,
followed as usual by Gorvag and Bekor.
Shailaja glared up at them from her prone position on her sleeping
rug, but said nothing.
See that look,
said Bekor. She is not
close to tamed in spite of the potion you fed her.
Not tamed, Velag
agreed, but she is most quick to respond the touch of any
man.
She should be
beaten, Gorvag proclaimed.
It is the only way to teach her true
obedience. You cannot expect
a few grains of dust to do the work for you.
Never fear,
Velag replied. She quivers
at my slightest touch. Using
her is far more satisfying than removing her skin, and far more
degrading. He turned to
her as he spoke his last words.
Is that not so my redheaded
barbarian?
Shailaja bowed her head,
and said nothing, but her silence proclaimed the truth of his
words. In spite of her heavy
use the night before she would have responded immediately to Velags
touch.
You see, Velag
grinned, seizing her hair and forcing her head back so that he could stare
down at her face. She dares
deny nothing of what I say. Even
now she burns to part her thighs for me.
I still say the use
of the whip is needed to tame one with her spirit, Gorvag
argued.
There is another
way, Velag grinned.
And I have already put it in
motion. I have ordered that she
no longer be provided with senna.
Within a moon she will be carrying my
child.
Shailajas eyes widened
in stunned amazement, and there was a sudden hollow in the pit of her
stomach. There was no greater
dishonour than for a Kaltaran warrior to be forced to carry the child of
an enemy. To be denied the means
to prevent it was a damning blow.
I see you meant keep
her then, Gorvag observed.
Why not? Velag
answered. She is most spirited
and has the body of a true warrior.
I would almost fear to face her myself had she a sword in hand.
She will produce handsome sons
and if there are daughters I have no doubt they will fetch a high price at
any slave auction.
Shailaja listened in silence,
not that anything she said could possibly change the feeling of dread that
permeated her being. To be used
as a vessel of pleasure was one thing, but to know that her fate was to serve
as Velags brood mare and that her daughters were to be sold like livestock
confirmed just how low her estate now
was.
It was almost beyond endurance
but she could think of nothing to say and no way to avert her
fate. She was Velags captive;
part of the spoils of war and she could be used in any way he
chose.
It was Hestia who spoke
for her. You speak bravely,
warlord when your victim is chained and helpless at your
feet. I wonder how much bravery
you would show had she a sword in her hand.
Velag glowered in anger,
but his attention was momentarily
diverted. Had Shailaja spoken
it would no doubt have gone very hard with her, but the bold words of the
captive queen had saved her.
I see her majesty
still lives, sneered Velag in
response. From the noise
she made last night youd think shed never had a man between her
legs.
That was certainly
something we remedied, Bekor laughed, and something she will
certainly become most used to before we are finished with
her.
Hestia glared her defiance,
but nothing could erase the stain upon her
honour.
Do not doubt Your
Highness, Bekor continued, that you will continue to be used
and used well.
But not before you
bathe, Velag interjected.
You stink of the use of many men and I prefer my women
clean. There is a small stream
that will suit your needs. See
that you clean yourself well.
Still chained to one another
Hestia and Shailaja were marched from the
tent. There were the usual insults
and comments as they passed through the camp, but Shailaja gave them not
the slightest notice. Hestia,
however, hung her head, refusing to meet the eyes of those she had
passed. The queen was struggling
mightily in a brave attempt not to show that every step was agony and several
times she had to lean on Shailaja, however, the pain of the insults hurled
toward her was greater than that of her body.
They are scum,
Shailaja said. Pay them
no heed. You are a queen and
a warrior. Do not let them take
that away from you.
Hestia raised her head and
fixed her eyes ahead of her. They
proceeded to the creek where they washed the filth and stink of their ordeal
from their bodies. But even as
they did so Shailaja wondered how much longer she would have to endure the
continual attempts to degrade and break
her. She was strong in spirit,
but wondered how much more she could take before Velags words were
proven true and she became as tamed as his three body
slaves. It was a thought she
found most disturbing and it remained with her long after her bath was finished
and she returned to Velags pavilion and another night of seeing to
his pleasure.
PREVIOUS CHAPTER WIZARD'S LAIR MAIN PAGE L'ESPION'S STORY PAGE NEXT CHAPTER