Barbarian Tales
Episode 1
Mistress of the Sword
by L'Espion
Chapter 4: The Emperor’s
Pleasure
Cleron did not arrive until the afternoon of
the second day. It gave Shailaja a
little more time to familiarize herself with where she was. During the ten days it had taken to reach the
rendezvous point, she had kept track of her movement and knew that their
general direction had been toward Prithia.
She guessed that they had come far enough to have reached Prithian
territory and it made sense that Cleron would meet them here. No doubt he had been looking forward to this
meeting from the moment he had arranged her kidnapping.
The thought of her fate at the Emperor’s hands
weighed heavily upon Shailaja’s mind.
Much as she hated to admit it, she was not as prepared for the ordeal as
she would have liked. She had never known
a man and had never expected to be kidnapped and taken by force; and it would
have to be by force; her sense of honour would not allow her to submit to
Cleron willingly.
Thus it was that she waited apprehensively for
the arrival of the man she had refused to marry and who now seemed intent on
taking from her what she would not give willingly. It had her on edge for most of the day,
causing her to break into a cold sweat when she heard the sounds of Cleron’s
arrival.
As she had come to understand, Cleron never did
anything quietly. He rode into camp at
the head of his full bodyguard, some
Confined to her tent prison, Shailaja could
hear, but not see Cleron’s arrival. But
she had no trouble guessing who it was.
“Where is the redheaded wench?” Cleron roared. “I trust no one has touched her.”
“She has not been touched, Excellency,” Denov’s
voice answered. “She is yours to enjoy.”
“Show me,” Cleron ordered.
Shailaja got to her feet, holding herself with
as much dignity as she could muster under her humiliating circumstances. She forced down her fear and stood watching the
entrance to the tent. It darkened as Cleron thrust his bulk through it.
“Well, here you are at last,” he rumbled. “You cannot imagine how much I’ve been
looking forward to meeting you again.
You will learn what it means when a mere girl refuses an emperor. It will be a hard lesson, but you will
learn.”
Shailaja did not flinch from his glare. Held by the iron collar around her throat,
and chained to a heavy stake that had been pounded deep into the ground, she
was helpless to do more than return his stare.
He stepped further into the tent and moved to
just beyond the length of the chain that held Shailaja. Up close he was even more intimidating and no
doubt he expected his presence to thoroughly cow her, but the effect was
somewhat spoiled by the fact that he had to look up to meet her eyes.
Cleron’s eyes narrowed; angered that Shailaja
had not fallen to her knees at his entrance.
It was an action that was not missed by Zeldon, the captain of his
bodyguard. “Why do you stand in the
presence of the Emperor?” he roared.
“Fall to you knees now.”
In spite of her helplessness Shailaja did not
flinch. “I will die before I kneel
before the coward who had me kidnapped and placed in chains,” Shailaja
spat.
“You will kneel or I will make you kneel,”
Zeldon replied. Two quick strides took
him across the tent, and one blow of Shailaja’s fist sent him senseless to the
floor.
“It appears he is doing my kneeling for me,”
Shailaja laughed. She had put all of her
pent up anger and frustration into that punch and knew that the captain would
not be getting up anytime soon.
To her surprise a roar of laughter emanated
from the Emperor. “You have spirit; I
like that. It will be all the more
pleasurable when I break you.” He turned
to his remaining guards. “Pick him up,
and see that she is properly restrained, but do not damage her. Any marks on that body I will inflict
myself.”
The guards did not so much have to worry about
damaging Shailaja as they had to worry about not being damaged themselves. In the narrow confines of the tent and
restricted by the chain and collar, there was little room for Shailaja to manoeuvre,
but she still succeeded in sending two more men to the floor. However, there were simply too many men for
her to take them all. She was borne to
the floor by sheer weight of numbers and the hated shackles once again locked
onto her arms. Held down in a kneeling
position by the guards she was finally forced to do what Zeldon had ordered;
she looked up at Cleron from a kneeling position, her emerald eyes burning with
hatred.
“You are a strong woman,” Cleron
commented. “As a matter of fact I have
never seen one stronger, but you are my prisoner now and I will break you, have
no doubt of that. And the breaking,” he
leered, “will be as pleasurable for me as it will be painful for you.”
“Take her to Keltor,” he ordered, directing his
attention to the guards,” and have her properly prepared. I will entertain the princess in my tent as
soon as she is ready.”
Shailaja was dragged from the tent and across
the camp to where a middle aged man was directing proceedings. He and the men he was supervising were in the
midst of unloading baggage from several large wagons. “Put those boxes over there for now. I think that spot over there would be perfect
for the tent. The foodstuffs….” He stopped speaking as an angry and still
struggling Shailaja was dragged forward.
“What have we here?” he said, seemingly aghast. “Surely this is not what the Emperor wants.”
“That is exactly what she is, Keltor” One of
the men holding Shailaja grinned. “The
Princess Shailaja.”
“But she is a barbarian,” Keltor protested,
“and filthy to boot.”
“That’s where you come in,” the guard
chuckled. “Cleron wants her prepared.”
Keltor seemed horrified, but then shrugged. “As the Emperor desires. Bring her to the stream and we will see what
we can do,”
By this time Shailaja had stopped fighting her
guards. She stood panting as Keltor and
the guards discussed her. At his final
statement the guards pushed her forward and she went without protest. She suspected that she would need all of her
strength if she was to survive what was to come. She was walked to one side of the camp where
a shallow stream splashed over a rocky bed.
Shailaja was familiar with it as she had been taken past it on a daily
basis when she was taken to relieve herself.
However, she had never been given the opportunity to use it for bathing
in spite of the fact that she had not bathed since she had been taken
prisoner. Kaltarans normally bathed
frequently, even during winter, and Shailaja was feeling about as grubby as she
had ever felt.
Reaching the stream she saw that a crude rock
dam had been built across it creating a small waist-deep pool. At least it would have been waist-deep on a
Prithian. Shailaja could see that it
would only reach to mid-thigh on her, but any form of bath would be more than
welcome. The question was, how to bathe
with her arms shackled behind her?
Keltor solved that quickly enough. “Remove her boots and trousers,” he ordered,
“and then tether her ankles. Then strip
the rest off her and release her arms.”
Once again Shailaja had to submit to the
indignity of being undressed by her male captors, but by now she was used to
being ogled by the men of the camp. As
Keltor had ordered she was stripped and then led down to the pool. Fighting her captors would have been
useless. She was greatly outnumbered and
after her outburst in the tent, they took no chances, keeping her ankles
tethered, and even tying a rope around her neck before she was allowed to enter
the pool.
Careful not to slip on the rocky streambed, she
stepped into the water. Like most
mountain streams it was chillingly cold, but Shailaja had bathed in such waters
before, and immersed herself to her neck, glad for a few moments at least to be
out of the lascivious gaze of her guards.
Her arms were now free so she was able to use the rough cloth and bar of
soap Keltor had given her to rid herself of the dirt and sweat that had
accumulated on her body. Her hair was
another matter. She had not attended to
it since her capture and it took her awhile to unravel the filthy braid and
wash out the accumulated debris.
Through it all Keltor and her guards waited
patiently by the edge of the pool. In
fact her ablutions attracted quite a crowd; half the camp in fact. She ignored them all, studiously
concentrating on her frigid bath, however, she could not shut out the prurient
comments directed her way.
“She has nipples like the ripest of
raspberries,” Keltor leered. “And
buttocks as round and firm as hams.”
Shailaja had never heard her assets compared to
cured pork before and hardly found the remarks flattering. Seething with anger at this additional
indignity she vowed that Cleron would resent the day he ever laid eyes upon
her. However, her heart skipped a beat
when Keltor finally became impatient.
“Enough,” he shouted. “Get her
out of there.”
A tug on the rope about her neck let Shailaja
know that her guards had heard the order.
Reluctantly, she stepped from the pool, looking straight ahead of
her. It was surprising to her that
Cleron allowed his men to speak so freely about her, but guessed that it had
something to do with the process of breaking her.
Keltor stopped her on the bank and had her kneel
in front of him. Backed up by most of
Cleron’s men he had little fear that she would defy him. Nevertheless, two of them pressed on her
shoulders before she did as she was told.
Once again the cruel shackles were applied to her arms just above the
elbows. The harsh bindings forced her to
arch her back, giving her audience an enticing view of her nude body.
Humiliated, Shailaja was forced to remain on
her knees while Keltor attended to combing out her hair. “By rights,” he commented, “you should be
oiled and shaved, but this will have to do.
The Emperor wants you now.”
Shailaja had heard of the shameful process of
shaving in which proof of a woman’s maturity was removed from between her legs
and was glad to be spared the shame of such a procedure. As for being oiled, it was a process she was
not familiar with, but she could guess what it was.
Two men pulled her to her feet and moved her
across the camp. In the time it had
taken her to bathe and have Keltor comb out her hair Cleron’s impressive tent
had been erected. Standing three times
the height of a man and dyed in alternating stripes of purple and gold, it was
large enough to house two dozen men, but was intended to shelter just one; the
Emperor.
Shailaja could not help but be impressed at the
rapidity with which the pavilion had been raised. But she was now also very conscious of her
nudity. Weaponless, stripped of all
garments, shackled so tightly that it even hurt to breathe, and surrounded by
enemies, she felt exposed and helpless. Waiting for her in the gaudy pavilion was a
man she loathed and feared; a man who intended to subject her to a most
unwelcome ordeal.
She swallowed in fear, but then took a deep
breath. She was a warrior of Kaltara and
would not quake in fear before a worm like Cleron. What he intended to do to her was most
dishonourable, but she would survive; survive and take her vengeance.
And then she was inside the tent, facing
Cleron. He was waiting for her seated on
an ornate travelling bed and clad only in a loose flowing robe of gold
thread. Standing on either side of him
was a Prithian warrior of unusual size.
Neither was as tall as Shailaja, but they were both powerfully built
men.
The tent was well furnished, with thick carpets
and rich hangings, as well as fine pieces of furniture, but Shailaja noticed
little of this, her attention fixed on Cleron.
Inside, her heart was beating so furiously she was certain that her fear
would be revealed. The men escorting her immediately forced her to her knees and
placed their arms on her shoulders to keep her there.
For a few moments Cleron said nothing, his eyes
studying Shailaja intensely. Then he
licked his lips slowly and deliberately.
“Exquisite,” he said finally.
“You might just be worth all of the trouble it has taken me to get
you. It is a pity that you could not
have been properly prepared, but in this wilderness setting I have to be
content with the way things are.”
Cleron turned to the guards. “Leave us,” he ordered. I shall see to the Princess now. See that we are not disturbed.”
“As you wish, Excellency,” one of the guards
replied. He bowed and then retired from
the tent, taking the other muscular guard with him.
Alone with Cleron, Shailaja looked him squarely
in the face, refusing to show fear in spite of the rapid beating of her heart
and the cold sweat that had broken out on her body.
“So, Princess,” Cleron said. “It is unfortunate that your haughty and
stubborn nature has led you to this. It
is never wise to defy an emperor.”
“I see no emperor before me,” Shailaja replied
between clenched teeth, just a coward who takes women by force.”
“You don’t need a tongue to give me the
pleasure I seek,” Cleron replied. “I
should have it removed, but I will leave it for now in order that I can hear
your pleas for mercy.”
“You will get noting more out of me,” Shailaja
answered defiantly. “You will never
break me, and I will live to see you die for this,”
They were brave words, but she had never
experienced so hopeless a situation, and matters were about to become much
worse.
“It is time to tame that arrogance,” Cleron growled. Rising from his bed he untied the gold sash
of his robe and let the garment fall to the floor. He stood before her as nude as she was in all
of his powerfully muscled glory.
Shailaja had seen nude men before; even a few who
could not conceal their pleasure when looking upon her. Communal bathing was common in Kaltara and
she had frequently gone to the hot springs near the Great Hall and mixed with
the others making use of the facility. However,
she had never been alone with a man in Cleron’s obvious state of arousal. Although lacking her height, Cleron carried double
her weight and even though he had allowed his once well muscled body to turn to
fat he was still an impressive figure; a fact that extended to his manhood.
Shailaja bit back a gasp, but the widening of
her eyes and the involuntary intake of air was not lost on Cleron. “A bit more than you were expecting isn’t it,
princess?” he grinned, enjoying the reaction of the frightened virgin.
Shailaja fought to control her breathing as she
looked upon Cleron. As she had guessed,
thick blond hair covered most of his body, giving him a somewhat bear-like
appearance. However, it was his
horse-like manhood that drew her attention most closely, something that Cleron
was quick to notice.
“Do you like what you see?” Cleron boomed. “This could have been yours on the night of a
royal wedding had you not been so stubborn.
Now it will serve you anyway. I
will breed you like a sow and force you to bear me as many sons as can be
gotten upon you.”
“You are a coward and use rape and bondage
instead of facing a warrior in open combat.
Give me a sword and I will either defeat you or die in the
attempt.” Shailaja spat out the words,
almost consumed by rage that she should be so helpless to prevent what was about
to happen.
If Cleron was angered by her outburst he did
not show it. Instead he laughed as he
stepped toward her. “I am going to fully
enjoy breaking that proud spirit. And
the breaking begins now.”
Cleron moved directly in front of her, standing
so that his thick member was just a hand’s breadth from her face. His strong male scent filled her nostrils, and
a glistening drop of semen oozed from the tip of his phallus. It should have disgusted her, but to her
dismay she felt a treacherous warming between her thighs; one that threatened
to betray her sense of honour.
She fought against the feeling as Cleron loomed
over her, his massive bulk threatening to swallow her. She strained against the heavy irons that
held her arms, her chest heaving with the effort and her spectacular breasts
quivering.
Her efforts did noting but excite Cleron
further. “Now, warrior,” he said, his
voice indicating his excitement, “you are about to become a woman.” He stooped and picked her up, lifting her one
hundred and seventy pounds as if she weighed no more than a feather, and while
she continued to struggle carried her to his bed. Tossing her onto the thick bear hide coverlet
he took the time to remove the tether from between her ankles and then placed
his hands on her knees.
In a last desperate effort to avoid her fate,
Shailaja fought to resist his actions, but Cleron was far too strong. She fought desperately, straining her muscles
to the utmost as he forced her long legs apart.
Before she could recover he moved between her thighs and then shifted
his weight forward. He loomed over,
enjoying the frantic struggles of his helpless captive. He looked down as her gloating over his
prize.
“You are indeed magnificent,” he gloated. “Taking you is going to give me greater
pleasure than the taking of any woman and I will make sure the episode lasts
for as long as possible.”
“You will get nothing from me,” Shailaja
rasped. “I will fight you to the end.”
“That is what I want,” Cleron laughed. He moved his hands to her hips, his thumbs
stroking the curve of her pelvic bone and then moved higher to her taut belly
and then to her breasts.
Shailaja writhed under his touch, but she could
not escape him as he stroked her velvet skin.
When he closed his hands over her breasts, she gasped in fear.
Large and firm, Shailaja’s breasts still fitted
easily within the palms of Cleron’s huge hands.
He squeezed the soft flesh, gently at first and then harder until she
had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out.
“Is this how you take pleasure in a woman?” she gasped. “By bruising her flesh?”
“It is one way,” Cleron grinned. “Giving pain to a woman gives me as much enjoyment
as giving her pleasure, and I intend to give you a full measure of both.” He followed this remark by pinching her
nipples hard enough that she almost screamed and then he bent his head and took
her succulent teats into his mouth.
He sucked hard, drawing her nipples into
thimble-like erectness and then teased them with his teeth, tugging and nipping
at the ripe buds while Shailaja panted in fear and frustration beneath
him. What he was doing hurt, but she
mastered the pain without a sound except that of her heavy breathing. But it was an immense relief when he finally
rose from suckling at her breasts to once more loom over her.
However, her relief did not last long. Using one hand to support his weight, he used
the other to cup her pubic mound. He
gave it a brief rub and then used his middle finger to probe between the folds
of Selene’s gateway. It was a painful
and humiliating examination as Cleron forced his finger between her petals and
inside to Selene’s Grotto and the untouched treasure of her maidenhead.
“I see you are as promised,” Cleron
observed. “I should have been
disappointed if you were not. It will
make the taking of you that much more pleasurable.”
He withdrew his finger, but moved it higher;
following the cleft from by her petals to the tiny berry nestled there. He touched it gently eliciting a startled
gasp from Shailaja’s lips, a reaction that filled her with shame.
No man had ever touched her there, although
some had tried, but she was fully familiar with the way her body reacted when the
incredibly sensitive bud was stroked.
She reacted that way now, arching her back slightly and barely holding
back a moan as Cleron teased her until the throbbing button was as hard as a pearl. He slid his finger back inside her and
grunted in satisfaction. “Selene’s dew
runs fully within you. It is time to
make you mine.”
Shailaja’s forced passion was instantly
replaced by fear as Cleron placed his hands on her and drew her to him. Laughing at her last futile efforts to escape,
he thrust forward, his heavy shaft parting her soft petals.
He took his writhing victim slowly at first, letting
her experience the full effect of the gradual penetration. Shailaja let out a moan of fear and
frustration as she felt the huge member enter her. “No,” she gasped. “You cannot do this.”
“You refused to accept me of your own free
will,” Cleron replied, “now I take you by right of conquest.” Grunting like a boar, he plunged into his
quivering victim, tearing through the thin barrier that protected Shailaja’s
virginity. She gave a sharp cry as her
maidenhead was taken, more out of shame and fear than pain, and then moaned as
he took her deeper forcing her body to work against her. Hatred and anger flared within her, but
something else as well. Try as she might
she could not hold back a rising tide of passion as her body responded to
Cleron’s violent intrusion.
Cleron felt huge inside her, a sensation
amplified by the brutal manner in which he enjoyed her. To say that her first time hurt would have
been a bit of an understatement. She
was, as Cleron had stated incredibly tight and he made no effort to be gentle,
gripping her backside tightly and penetrating her with hard strong thrusts,
each one deeper than the last, until he had buried his shaft fully within
her. Then, using the full length of his
staff, he rhythmically rode her, increasing his speed as his excitement mounted
until he finally released into her.
It took a long time for that to happen and
Shailaja was thoroughly used before Cleron expended himself. His lust temporarily satisfied, Cleron withdrew
from his trembling victim, but he left Shailaja unfulfilled and panting with
barely repressed desire, something she should have welcomed given the fact that
surrendering to her own carnal desires would have been far too shameful. For some reason, however, she felt anger and
regret that he had not taken her a bit farther.
He had used her purely for his pleasure while withholding the same from
her.
“You are now a vessel for my seed,” Cleron
said, triumphantly, noting the splattering of blood that signalled the end of
Shailaja’s virginity. “A brood mare for the
warriors I will produce.”
Overcome with shame and rage, Shailaja spat in
his face. “You will never break me,” she
shouted. “I will never be your empress.”
“Empress?” Cleron laughed, ignoring the spittle
that ran down his cheek. “Of course you
will never be empress. I could not
possibly have a woman as empress who has not taken the care to preserve her
honour.” He laughed even louder, and
then picked up a cup of wine from a table by his bed. “Would you like some, princess? It is a very fine vintage.”
Cleron’s cynical attitude left Shailaja
speechless. She had thought that to
first seek an alliance through marriage and then to kidnap and take her by
force was the height of perfidy, but Cleron had taken treachery to depths she
would not have imagined.
She was the prisoner of a man who had not the
slightest sense of honour, but she had no immediate fear of Cleron’s threat to
impregnate her. In Kaltara it was the
custom of all nubile young women to drink a tea made from the leaves of the
senna bush; a powerful contraceptive. Although
Shailaja had shown little interest in mating with any of her fellow warriors, she
had dutifully drunk the brew, thus affording herself protection against an
unwanted pregnancy. She had no intention
of explaining this to Cleron. Let him
think that he had impregnated her; it might give her the time she needed to
escape. But it would have to be soon,
the senna provided protection for only about a quarter of a moon.
Cleron was still holding out his cup of
wine. Upending the cup he drained it and
then refilled it. “Not thirsty, princess?” He lifted the cup and slowly poured it over Shailaja’s
face, breasts and belly. Then, tossing
aside the cup, to her further disgust he began to lick the spilled wine from
her body. He started at her belly and slowly
worked toward her head, pausing for several hundred heartbeats at her breasts,
and then proceeded to her neck and finally her face. Locking his fingers into her hair to prevent
her from moving her head, he ran his tongue over her cheeks, avoiding the
efforts she made to sink her teeth into him.
He laughed again at her anger, and then lifted
himself above her once more. Incredibly,
his weapon was fully restored and he put it to immediate use. This time he proceeded more slowly, teasing
Shailaja’s sweet petals as he parted them and then sliding gently into Selene’s
grotto. If anything the second violation
was worse than the first; not because of the pain, although there was a little
of that; but because of her reaction to what was being done to her. This time the warming of her body could not
be contained. As Cleron rode her for the
second time her hips rose to meet his and her body moved in concert with his
rhythmic penetration.
Her passion did not go unnoticed. “The barbarian maiden is tamed,” Cleron
crowed. “And so easily.” He bent his head to her breasts, the touch of
his lips on her nipples bringing another moan from Shailaja and then he bit
hard forcing a scream from her lips.
“Pleasure and pain, princess,” Cleron panted,
thrusting hard into her again. “Pleasure
and pain. Helpless to control her
desires, Shailaja moved with him as he rode her, her passion increasing with
every movement of their bodies until the world seemed to explode within
her. With a cry she arched upward, her
loins contracting with such strength that her vision blurred and she almost
fainted.
Cleron continued to drive into her, keeping her
at a level of excitement that had her trembling with fervour, until her
released into her for the second time, once again satisfying his urges. He left Shailaja so weak and sore she could
barely move. It was a condition Cleron
seemed to understand.
“Do not worry my pretty barbarian. The tenderness will pass. It is the price you pay for mating with a
real man.”
Shamed by her reaction, Shailaja lay where she
was, her breasts rising and falling with her heavy breathing. She offered no resistance as Cleron tied her
ankles for safekeeping.
Seemingly tired from his efforts, the Prithian
emperor slept alongside her. Burning
with shame, Shailaja found little rest, until she too fell into an exhausted
sleep. But she did not sleep
undisturbed. Sometime well before
morning, Cleron awoke. He used her as he
had before. Still sore from her previous
experience, Shailaja was slow to respond, but eventually her traitorous body
betrayed her once again and she cried out as her body convulsed once more.
Cleron took her twice more before morning. It was a rough introduction to the ways of men and left her body aching in more places than she had ever thought possible. Worse than the physical pain, however, was her mental anguish. Shackled and shamed, her body stinking with Cleron’s scent, she had been brutally dishonoured. As sleep once more claimed her exhausted body she vowed to be avenged or die in the attempt.
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