Zona:

Tales of Erogenia

Episode 1: The Snow Princess

Chapter 13: The Thuski

Zenaria’s skin gleamed with sweat and she was breathing heavily as she calmed herself and began to wipe the shining droplets from her body. Pandar would arrive shortly to escort her on another round of exercise and she wanted to appear rested and composed before he saw her. By her reckoning it had been ten days since she had awoken in her tower prison. Pandar had come as he had promised to walk her around the tower in order to restore her fitness, but she was long past the quiet strolls that her captors supposed were adequate exercise. For the last five days she had been subjecting herself to strenuous workouts, setting aside her filmy costume so that she would not dirty it while she trained. Although she had no weapons she moved through the familiar drills she had been taught, practicing her combat movements over and over again and regaining some of the quickness and stamina that had always marked her as the most prominent of the Snow Leopard warriors.

She had started slowly at first, not wanting to push herself too harshly until she was sure that her recuperating body could handle it, but she had soon progressed to full fledged workouts, going through her martial movements as many times a day as she could fit into the hours of her imprisonment. It was no hardship to do so; trapped in her comfortable prison, she had nothing better to do, but she was careful not to let the guards or anyone else know what she was doing. Her captors had made the mistake of not stationing anyone in the room with her, and she took full advantage of it.

She guessed that if her captors thought of her as too weak to pose any danger, she might be able to take advantage of it. She splashed water over her body to help her cool down. The air in Uhra Don was so dry that it soon evaporated, but it helped. When Pandar entered the room, she was clad in her translucent costume and sucking on a lemon. After her introduction to the sour fruit she had developed a taste for them and her servants brought as many as she could eat.

Pandar gave her an appraising look as he entered the room. “It is as I thought,” he said. “You are ready to be taken before his Excellency.”

Zenaria experienced a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was not fear exactly, but anticipation of what was coming. Once again she would get to meet the man who had humbled her. However, she became a little more apprehensive after what happened next.

Pandar stepped back and was immediately replaced by another man dressed in the gold- trimmed robes she remembered from her battle in the market. Three more guards crowded into the room, their pikes levelled toward her. “You will come with us, barbarian.” the first man said. “And you will come chained. Remove your clothing.”

Zenaria stared at the spear points that were directed toward her. In the confines of the room, she might have some difficulty avoiding them, but she was a Snow Leopard princess, and she was not about to go without a fight in spite of the odds against her. However, a few seconds later something happened to change her mind. Two more men crowded into the room behind the pikemen and they were carrying some sort of mechanical device Zenaria had never seen before but had no trouble figuring out what it was supposed to do.

It appeared to be a bow bolted to a wooden frame, but there seemed to be no doubt that it was capable of delivering the wicked looking arrow that was pointed at her. In such a confined space there was no way she could possibly avoid an arrow at such close range. Her choice was to refuse to surrender and face certain death or to humble herself once again and live to fight and perhaps escape on another day.

She swallowed, remembering the humiliation of being placed in chains and paraded through the streets of Uhra Don. Gritting her teeth in rage, she tore off her brief costume, heedless of the damage she did to the fine gold jewellery and diaphanous clothing.

The man in the gold trimmed robe glowered in anger. Gesturing to still another guard he summoned him into the room. “Chain the barbarian bitch.”

Zenaria submitted to the shame of once again being chained, this time without even offering any resistance. Mortified at her helplessness she bowed her head as she was shackled and then led from the room.

The chains prevented any attempt at resistance. She was shackled almost identically to the way she had been when she had been led through the streets of the market, with her wrists linked in front of her, and a chain connecting her wrists to her shackled ankles. The only exception was that the chain linking her wrists and ankles was somewhat longer so that she was able to walk upright, however, to compensate her elbows were linked across her back, making any resistance useless.

She was escorted along the outside of the tower and around the corner to one of the doors set in the side of the tower. It was thrown open by her escort, revealing a landing that led to a staircase allowing progress both up and down. Two guards went ahead of her heading down the staircase with the others following. With little choice in the matter, Zenaria descended, the clanking of her chains reminding her of her shame and disgrace. Only the presence of Pandar at her elbow helped to alleviate her deep sense of self- loathing.

“Do not despair, Zenaria,” he whispered. “There is no shame in living to fight another day. His Excellency can be cruel, but he has a strange quirk. He takes no woman against her will.”

That was all that the mild mannered eunuch was allowed to say, but it was enough. It gave Zenaria hope that she would be able to preserve her virtue and keep her vow. Strangely her thoughts turned to Tren. She was certain that he was aware of her plight. Was he taking any steps to help her? Locked in the fortress prison of the Thuski she didn’t see how even he would be able to do anything about her predicament.

She and her escort descended six levels. The stairs continued to descend, but the escort opened a door and Zenaria found herself at the base of the tower. A wide courtyard separated her from the main building, one that she must have been marched past when she was brought to the Thuski’s palace. She had seen it from the tower and it looked impressive, standing three stories and supported on a succession of colonnades placed one on top of the other and running the length of the building. Entering the colonnades she found that they provide a cool shaded area that ran around the perimeter of the building. She was walked along this and around the corner, a distance of several hundred paces until she reached the centre of the far side of the building, then her escort took her through another series of doors. Apparently security was paramount in the design of the building, as there were no windows on the lower level and she taken through three sets of doors each separated from the other by a distance of about thirty feet, making the building truly enormous. Zenaria wondered at the wealth required to construct such an edifice and then remembered that the palace of the High Thuski had been even more magnificent. Each of the three sets of doors was guarded by four men carrying the deadly Sandak pikes with their vicious hooked tops. The final door led through a wide corridor to what appeared to be an open area, but Zenaria was unprepared for what actually lay beyond.

She had thought the gardens of the wealthy merchant that Tren had shown her to be magnificent, but they paled into insignificance compared to those she now entered. She was inside a gigantic quadrangle formed by the Thuski’s palace. In the centre was a rectangular pool of water large enough to contain of the buildings in the compound of the Snow Leopard. Spaced at intervals along the main pool were numerous other circular pools designed in a variety of ways. Every other one seemed to be a fountain spurting glistening jets of water into the air while the others were filled with a range of aquatic plants, many of the flowering variety. Trees and shrubs were everywhere and the perfume of thousands of flowers filled the air. Scattered around the gardens were dozens of young women in various stages of undress, as well as the ubiquitous black and gold robed guards.

In the midst of all of this splendour was Ravar Kund, reclining on a stone bench and surrounded by five of the most beautiful young women Zenaria had ever seen. They appeared to have been chosen not just for their beauty, but also for their ethnic diversity. One was a tall blonde, her impressive physical dimensions proclaiming her to be of the same background as Zenaria. Another had gleaming jet-black skin like Sorvat’s and luminous golden eyes. The third was petite and dark-haired with skin that shone golden-brown in the sunlight, and dark, mysterious almond eyes. The fourth was white-skinned and reclined in the shade, her brilliant green eyes and flaming red hair, instantly drawing Zenaria’’s attention. The final young woman was dark-haired and voluptuous, with dark nipples ornamenting her perfect breasts. Her skin was the colour of the spice Tren had called cinnamon.

With such a variety of beauties, Zenaria found herself what the Thuski could possible want with her. Surely such a huge selection of willing young females must have kept him more than satisfied sexually, however, Ravar Kund rose from his pile of cushions as she approached. Zenaria met his gaze with her own defiant stare. She might be completely at his mercy, but she would not be cowed.

“So,” Ravar Kund murmured as his eyes swept over her, “the barbarian. This one will not be as easy to tame as was Brigidda.” He glanced back toward the nude blonde who smiled invitingly toward him. Zenaria experienced a brief moment of fear. Would she be reduced such compete subservience? The thought frightened her, but she gave no outward sign of her apprehension.

“Hold her,” Kund ordered as he stepped forward. Immediately her guards took hold of her arms, although what Zenaria could have done chained the way she was she had no idea. She could walk, but not kick and she could move her hands only a few inches in any direction. However, properly held, Kund proceeded to give her a humiliatingly thorough inspection.

He began with her mouth, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back. He used a short hard length of wood to pry her mouth open and then tied it in place so that she could not close her mouth or speak. Peeling back her lips he inspected her teeth. “Good,” he commented. “Strong, straight and white.”

He ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms. “Strong,” he said. “A true warrior.” Then he proceeded to her fondle her breasts, lifting each one and caressing the nipples. “Like ripe melons. She would make a perfect bedmate.”

Had she not been tightly held, Zenaria would have attempted to attack him in spite of the chains that confined her, but she was helpless, unable to even voice her outrage. She strained against her shackles as he demeaned her, his hands next going to her flat, hard, belly and then lower to her hips and buttocks. And when he placed his fingers between her thighs, fondling her mons veneris did she gave an involuntary start. Kund grinned, obviously enjoying her discomfort and humiliation, but he took a step back and gave her a hard look. “Perhaps not as perfect a bedmate as I would like,” he commented. “She would probably kill me in my sleep.”

Zenaria made no sound, but she didn’t have to. Her glare would have peeled paint from a wall. “However, she can entertain me in other ways.” He turned to Pandar. “Is she fit?”

“She is recovering, master,”

Without warning Kund stepped forward. He had been standing slightly to one side when he had questioned Pandar and it gave him perfect access to her naked backside. The blow stung, but unable to avoid it, Zenaria gave not the slightest response other than her withering stare.

Kund held up his hand and winced. Apparently he had hit her hard enough that he had felt the blow. “I think she is strong enough. Bring her tomorrow. We will put her into the arena.” He picked up a length of cloth lying on the cushioned bench where the five beauties reclined, and handed it to Pandar. The young physician nodded and moved to Zenaria. Carefully he tied the cloth so that it covered her eyes. “Now you must come with me,” he said. “I will guide you.”

The blindfold worked well. Zenaria could see nothing, but she could hear and count. She was taken two hundred and thirty paces past the musical splash of fountains and then through a door. She counted thirty more steps and then another door. This time she walked ten steps and then down first once staircase and then another, and then another, until she had descended five flights of stairs. There was another door, a twenty-five step echoing corridor and one last door. When the blindfold was removed she was in a tiny dark room, lit only by a flickering torch carried by one of the guards. The chains were removed from her elbows, but not her wrists or ankles and another chain was placed about her neck and locked to a heavy ring in one wall. Zenaria felt a sense of being buried alive as she stared around a cell that was barely long enough to lie down in. However, her hands were now free enough that she could yank the gag from her mouth.

“Food and drink will be brought,” Pandar said. “You stay here until tomorrow. Try to rest. Tomorrow you fight.” He turned and left the room. The door closed like the voice of doom, leaving Zenaria in complete darkness. For a few seconds Zenaria stood motionless. How was she going to escape from such a place? Then composing herself, she sat on the straw-filled pallet that occupied half the cell and waited.

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