Barbarian Tales

Episode 1

 

Mistress of the Sword

 

by L'Espion

 

 

Chapter 17: Slave

 

Shailaja’s life in Velag’s tent passed into weeks.  Each night she was subjected to another sexual spectacle and although her hands still gave her some pain she was desperate to get her hands on a sword.  Velag was well aware of this and kept her helpless, adding chains to insure her docility.  Even though she could now have fed herself Velag would have none of it, chaining her arms above each elbow and across her back so that her hands could not reach her mouth, forcing her to accept her feeding by Killa and Teela.  It left her helpless and shamed, but, there was more to fear than the chains that kept her helpless.  With each nightly session it became more and more difficult to hide the rising passion within her.  Bathed in perspiration and burning with the heat of desire, she could barely hold back her moans of longing. 

 

Shailaja knew that something was terribly wrong.  The disturbing feelings of desire she had felt on the first night she had observed Velag’s and Gorvag’s lovemaking with Killa and Tella had grown steadily until her primal urges were so strong she could think of little else.  The torment remained with her long after Gorvag and Velag had satisfied themselves, making it almost impossible for her to sleep.  Even more dire was the fact that the unquenched cravings remained with her throughout the day, so much so that she was barely able to contain herself when Gorvag and Velag returned each evening. 

 

Fear and pride, however, kept her from giving in to her rampant desires.  She was a warrior of the Kaltara, Clan of the Ice Wolf; she would not debase herself before such as Velag and Gorvag, no matter how strongly her passions raged.

 

However on the fifteenth night of her captivity the matter was taken out of her hands. On this night she was no longer chained to the heavy metal stake in the centre of the pavilion.  Instead she had been placed on her knees, a position which Velag had explained, “Was more appropriate for a slave.”

 

She could not move from this position as each wrist was chained to each ankle, arching her body back most uncomfortably and placing her at the mercy of anyone who might desire her.  She was dressed and ornamented as she had been before, like some sort of gift to be presented to her captors.  In order to ease the strain she gripped her ankles with each hand and took the weight on her arms, but it was a position that could not be held long without pain. 

 

She had been in that position for several turns of the glass, and her body ached from the awkwardness and discomfort of the position.  It was then that Velag finally returned, having been absent since mid-afternoon.  She looked up as he entered, her knees sunk into the deep carpet.  It was not the submissive bowing of the head he would have wished, but she was not yet broken and would not shame herself by cowering before him.  Cowering, however, was not what he had in mind. 

 

Behind him two more entered and Shailaja glowered her hate.  One was Gorvag and the other Bekor.  It appeared that all her enemies had come to gloat, but they were after a bit more than that.

 

“You see, Your Highness,” Velag triumphed.  “It is as I said.  The red-headed barbarian is here and prepared for pleasure.”

 

Bekor stepped toward her.  “She appears eager enough, although I found her a most reluctant participant when she was lying under me.  However, I got sweet use from her all the same.”

 

“This time,” Velag grinned, “I think you will find her much changed.  This time she will beg you to take her as often as you are able.”

 

Shailaja hissed in rage at this slander.  She might be helpless, but she would no more beg for Bekor to use her than she would cut off her breasts.  But she said nothing, not wishing to demean herself further by uttering useless protests.

 

Velag clapped his hands.  “We will have wine first, and then we shall have dessert.” 

 

At the sound of his hands Killa, Teela, and Revtim scampered into the room.  Revtim bore with him a pitcher of wine and three goblets.  The two slave girls brought only themselves, but it was they who Velag put to instant use.

 

“The Ice Maiden is cold,” Velag pronounced, “but I think she may be easily thawed.  See to it.”

 

Much to Shailaja’s shame the two slave girls descended upon her, their slender fingers stripping her brief costume from her and baring all to see.  But that was to be the least of her shame.  They then began to play her like a fine instrument, their fingers moving over her body, touching and stroking her in ways that she was unable to resist.  She gasped almost immediately and then moaned as Teela’s soft and skilful lips found her nipples.  Arched back by her chains her breasts were perfectly presented and Shailaja could do nothing to stop her as Teela sucked her nipples into thimble-stiffness.  Killa adopted an even more acrobatic position, sliding on her back until her head was positioned beneath Shailaja’s shaved petals.  In an instant the warmth of her tongue cleaved the ripeness of Shailaja’s swollen petals, driving a sharp cry from her lips and causing her to arch her back to an even greater extreme. 

 

Velag laughed to see her distress.  “As I said, she is easily thawed.  Already I expect her river flows.”

 

“I will be most interested in testing the moistness of her valley,” Bekor laughed.  “Yet she is still the barbarian.  She how she writhes and twists in an attempt to deny what her body demands.”

 

“It has been two weeks of careful preparation,” Velag responded, but I think you will find she will deny us no longer.  But we will give her a bit more time to make sure.”

 

As Bekor had observed, Shailaja writhed in torment as Killa and Teela lifted her in uncontrollable passion.  She could no longer control her cries, moaning loudly and moving her hips rhythmically as she was swept along in a wave of passion.

 

“Enough,” Velag ordered, sending the female slaves scampering.  “Leave her wanting more.”  He knelt in front of her.  “Not so defiant now, are you barbarian?”  He placed his hand between her legs and slid it up her thigh toward her throbbing petals. 

 

Shailaja groaned, unable to restrain her cries.  “You will never break me,” she gasped.  But her words rang false, forced out through clenched teeth. 

 

Velag reached higher, finding her petals with a single finger, and then two.  Slowly he probed her, slipping just a little inside her and then a little more. 

 

“She is flowing like a waterfall during spring flood,” Velag laughed. 

 

“Perhaps it is time to put her to the test,” chimed in Gorvag, who had stood silently drooling while Shailaja was shamed.  “Let us see if the barbarian is indeed tamed.”

 

“I see little doubt of that,” Velag said.  He moved his fingers a little higher, caressing the spot at the apex of her petals and the unbelievably sensitive and swollen bud that hid there. 

 

Shailaja screamed, releasing her breath in a great sob as the reaction was forced from her.  Writhing under his touch she gripped her ankles, digging in the nails until they pierced the flesh, and arched upward, begging Velag to do even more.

 

He was happy to oblige her, but he drew back letting her suffer for as long as possible, while she trembled, waiting for the release only a man could give her.

 

Her body quivered with desire as Velag, with the help of Killa and Teela stripped off his clothing.  Helpless in her need Shailaja looked up at him, as he revealed his impressive manhood.  Desperately she fought not to succumb to her wild passion, but she could not deny the urge that swelled up within her. 

 

“She melts beneath my touch,” Velag smiled.  He again moved his hands over her body, sliding his hands up to her breasts, and then bending to kiss and suckle her nipples. 

 

Each touch set her on fire.  Her nipples burned from his touch and the area between her petals begged to be plundered.  Shailaja knew that something was very wrong with her reaction, but so clouded was her mind by her passion she could think only of assuaging her desires.

 

“What do you want, barbarian?” Velag teased.  “Are you willing to beg for release?”

 

“Damn you, no,” Shailaja grunted between clenched teeth.  But the blush that darkened her neck, chest, and breasts; the swelling of her petals; and the harshness of her breathing gave a lie to her denial.  Velag had her, leaving her writhing as his hands moved over her body.

 

He continued to play with her; every touch of his fingers, every caress of his lips; even the warmth of his breath pushing her to the edge of rampant passion.  But she would not beg; would not give in to the ravenous demands of her body.  And then Velag moved fully between her parted thighs. 

 

She could smell his maleness, sense the strength and power of his massive body; but more than all of this she could feel the thickness of his member as it pressed against her petals.  He moved against her and she whimpered with desire. 

 

“Marana save me,” she moaned.  She arched upward, trying to take him within her, but he continued his torment, moving against her but never fulfilling her desperate need.

 

“Your false goddess cannot save you now,” Velag sneered.  “Here Irkuz rules.”

 

He named the cruel Belusendran god of war, but it was not he who held her, but Selene, goddess of beauty and love.  And it was to her that Shailaja silently prayed. Help me goddess; give me the strength to resist.  But Selene was not listening.  As her need became overwhelming, her will to resist broke.

 

“Take me,” she moaned.  Take me now.”

 

“Do you truly wish it?” Gorvag taunted.  His thumbs flicked over her taut nipples while his hands squeezed her breasts, an action she found maddening. 

 

“I wish it,” she whimpered.

 

“And what are you?” he temporized

 

“I am yours,” she moaned.  “I am your slave.”

 

The words were forced out of her; torn from her mouth by the urgency of her desires.  She knew what Velag did and guessed what he had done, but he had her like a fish in a net and she could refuse him nothing. 

 

“Then you shall have what you desire,” he answered, and plunged within her.

 

Shailaja’s scream was like to have wakened everyone in the camp, but it burst from her lips like water breaking through an overburdened dam.  She writhed in pleasure and in pain as he took her, giving everything to him and begging for more.

 

Velag took her long and hard, filling her completely, and reaching to the depths of her being.  Shailaja knew that she would suffer for her pleasure the next day, but nothing could dim the sun of her desire.  Again and again Velag pounded her, each thrust eliciting a scream of passion, until he finally finished with her, seeding her womb with his thick spume.

 

“I see she was well prepared,” Bekor said.  “What is your secret.  Did you use the dust on her?”

 

“Not in its usual form,” Velag answered as he replaced his clothing.    “Tharian Dust is expensive and rather short lasting.  We have found that dissolving a few grains in alcohol and administering it over a period of a week or more creates a longer lasting affect, as you see from our barbarian here.”  He laughed.  “We call it the Tears of Selene, and it is more than effective.”

 

He gestured toward Shailaja as she knelt quivering on the carpet, her breasts heaving and her body dripping with sweat.  He had used her thoroughly, but had not come close to quenching the fires that burned within her loins.  Filled with shame she battled the unreasoning passions within her but it was like throwing oil on a raging ocean.  Even knowing what Velag had done to her added no reason to the emotions she felt.  Arched back she waited for the next man to take her, panting with desire.

 

Her cravings were soon attended to.  Bekor took her next.  He could not hope to match Velag’s manhood, but he was enthusiastic and inventive in the way he touched her, spending considerable time savouring the bounty of her breasts and nipples as he worked his member within her.  “I can see,” he panted, “that I was wrong the first time I took you.  Seeing you writhe beneath me is so much more satisfying.”

 

Shailaja’s only reply was to moan as he moved within her.  She thrust her body toward him, attempting to take him deeper, but the awkwardness of her position prevented much deeper penetration.  It was, however, a situation that Gorvag remedied as soon as Bekor was finished with her.

 

As the ruler of Cebar pulled himself from her, Gorvag stepped forward, having relinquished second place to Bekor as a matter of courtesy.  “I think she needs to be more fully satisfied,” he observed.  “And this position, although demeaning does not allow the best use of her.” 

 

“Your point is well taken,” Velag agreed.  “We will move her so that she may be better used.”

 

Together the two large warriors approached her.  Taking care to insure that Shailaja had no chance to escape they removed the chains connecting her wrists to her ankles.  She moaned as they removed her from the cramped position.  For the first time in several turns of the glass she was able to stretch her legs, but she was not allowed to stand for long.  Between the two of them they muscled her across the tent to the low table and pushed her to her knees before it.  The chains securing her arms behind her back were removed, and while Bekor held her shoulders to ensure she could not rise, Velag and Gorvag pulled her arms out to the side and then chained them on either side of the table. 

 

Shailaja was left with her breasts pressed against the top of the table and the ripe curves of her backside presented for the pleasure of her captors.  Gorvag availed himself of her new position immediately. 

 

He stripped, and moving behind her, parted her legs with his knees.  Pressing himself against her bottom, his hands found her breasts and squeezed them harshly while his ready member sought the soft folds of her velvet furrow.

 

Shailaja cried out as his fingers dug into her breasts.  She arched her back toward him while at the same time thrusting deep within her.  The penetration was easy even for so large a member, but she cried out at the sudden storming of her pavilion of pleasure, arching her back in invitation and straining at the chains that held her wrists. 

 

The position was one of complete humiliation and subjugation, but she was aware only of the carnal ecstasy it gave her as Gorvag took her deeply, welcoming both the pain and the pleasure it brought her.  As was his custom, Gorvag used her harshly, slamming into her with such force that her thighs were badly bruised as he forced her body against the table.  Repeatedly he hammered her, but Shailaja could not be satiated, not even when Bekor and Velag availed themselves of her once more.  And so several others were invited in to share in the bounty of her body. 

 

Quorash was the first, followed by the other members of Velag’s bodyguard.  She was used again and again until she was barely aware of the change from one man to the other and yet still she gasped for more.  What Velag had done to her left her in a permanent state of arousal; one that could not be satisfied by any number of partners.  Finally, when she could no longer raise her head she was allowed rest and dragged across the tent to her sleeping mat.  She lay there, fully shamed, sapped of her strength, and stinking of her use by many men. 

 

Exhaustion finally consumed her and she slept, but it was a sleep that did nothing to alleviate the pain of her desire.  She awoke frequently, each time bathed in the sweat of passion, but there was nothing she could do to ease her torment.  At length, several turns of the glass before dawn, she awoke and stayed awake.  She sat in the darkness, waiting to see what the day would reveal, bitter in the knowledge that although she had not yet been broken that fate was not far off.  Silently she prayed to Marana, certain that only the goddess could save her. 

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