Barbaria Act 1 Epilogue
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Barbaria Act 1 Chapter 3 free porn video
the first Chapter: http://xhamster.com/user/Victor-Bruno/posts/231207.html
the second Chapter: http://xhamster.com/user/Victor-Bruno/posts/233144.html
Chapter Three
Main Narrative
A Barbarian Triumph
On receiving the news, brought to her excitedly by one of her female courtiers, Princess Alexena, still half nude, sprang to her feet, hands clenching at her siedes, a triumphant look on her glittering hard features. During the previous few minutes she had been idly letting her mind dwell on the pleasures she'd had with Judilla or alternately contemplating the two slaves who attended her. Contemplating them not only physically but also their plight. It not only gave her cruel pleasure to observe the tracery of weals that covered the buttocks of both but also to try and imagine what it must be like like for them to serve in such close proximity to each other under such circumstances. The Princess was, of course, well aware of their former status and relationship – that was one of the main reasons why she had chosen them as personal body slaves. It must, she thought, indeed be most excruciatingly galling to have such treasured delights so close and so exposed, and yet be so helpless to enjoy them. She felt the pleasure-throb of cruel power within her. What Heaven it was to have that power – to be in her position – and what equal Hell it must be to be a slave – and in theirs. One day, she thought, I really might let them couple before me. That might be most amusing. They would, however, have to pay a penalty for such an unusual pleasure.
It was that moment that the news arrived. Myron was kneeling at her feet fastening the golden boots whilst Nerine was in the act of fastening the golden-net brassiere. Princess Alexena's movement was so sudden that the flimsy support ripped away and her white melon-shaped breasts swung naked and free. Seemingly unconcerned by this pretty incident, she stood tense as she demanded:
„How many ships?“
„Five, Highness...“ answered the courtier.
The Princess's white teeth clenched. „One missing,“ she hissed between them.
„So it would seem, Highness,“ answered the courtier carefully lowering her eyes. „But... but... „ she added, raising them again, „it is reported that each of the five ships carries a triumphal figure-head!“
„Ahhh... „ The tension seemed to go out of the Princess's body. „That bodes well,“ she said. „The expedition would appear to have been successful even though we have suffered some loss.“
It should be explained that the `triumphal figure-head´ referred to was a living being, either male or female, fastened naked to the prow of the ship. It was a sign that booty and slaves had been captured and the very fact that every ship sported such a trophy was a sign that the haul had been a good one. This cruel and arrogant form of display was a tradition that had grown up in the Fleet of Barbaria.
„Have you any orders, Highness?“ enquired the courtier.
Princess Alexena nodded. „Onky that Captain Varian is to report to me here as soon as he disembarks..“
„Yes, Highness,“ answered the young courtier, courtseying before she turned to leave.
Slowly, Princess Alexena seated herself and was silent for a few moments. Then she looked down and contemplated the torn piece of flimsy netting.
„That was very careless of you, Nerine,“ she said.
„Mistress... I... I beg pardon,“ began Nerine fearfully.
„You had better fetch another,“ continued Alexena evenly, „and as you do so, bring me the switch.“
„M-Mistress,“ stammered Nerine, her cheeks blanching, „the movement was so... so... s-sudden... I.“
Alexena's dark eyes glinted. „You aren't making excuses, are you slave?“ she demanded icily. „Or, far worse, disputing my words?“
„No... oh no, Mistress,“ answered Nerine hastily, turning to do as she had been bid.
„Because,“ went on Alexena, as she watched the swing of the already red and lacerated hindquarters as they moved across the room, „... if I thaought for one moment it was the latter, it is not just my switch you would feel but the whip! Yes... I'd have Ryar give you a flogging you wouldn't forget for many a day!“
The beautyful young slave girl's expression and demeanour as she returned with a new brassiere and the white, plaited leather switch, clearly indicated that she realised that the Princess would be as good as her word.
Alexena did not even deign to rise from the chair on which she was seated, merely kicking aside the male slave Myron who had continued with the fastening of the gold boots.
„Get your bottom up, girl,“ she said, tapping the plaited switch of white leather on the floor. „Well up.“
The tears were already filming Nerine's eyes as she knelt before her supreme Mistress, thrusting her hindquarters up abjectly. It was bad enough to be punished for any fault – but far worse for one which was not of one's own making. The girl went on hands and knees, palms flat to the floor. Her nose went down, her bottom went up, the back dipping. She was presented most conveniently for Princess Alexena's attentions.
The flexible switch, with its whalebone core whistled down and bit into the already lacerated flesh.
„Yeeee... ooowww ...ooowww,“ gasped Nerine, sprawling forward, her naked breasts crushing and spreading on the tiled floor. There she lay for a few moments, squirming and squirming, the flesh of her lush bottom juddering. But Nerine knew she must not remain there, and with teeth clenching in effort, she forced herself back to the original position to receive the second stroke.
Sssswwweeepppttt!
It came as viciously as the first... to send Nerine gasping and slithering, bottom jerking and gyrating, across the cold floor. There, again, she remainded for a few moments before forcing herself to resume her former position.
Five times Alexena made her gasp and squirm in this fashion, her eyes dancing with sadistic amusement at the spectacle. It was not a severe punishment by the standards of the Palace but all the same it gave her keen pleasure to inflict it. It was strange, she thought, as she ordered Nerine to rise, how one sometimes seemed to get greater pleasure from inflicting minor punishments rather than more severe ones.
The tears flowed freely down the slave girl's pretty cheeks and her superbly-formed full breasts heaved with her sobs as she resumed the task of fitting on her Mistress's brassiere. It was an item she herself was never permitted to wear. Like all her other womanly charms, her own breasts were permanently exposed to the gaze of all who might wish to look upon them.
„I cannot abide carelessness, Nerine – you know that,“ said Alexena, looping the switch over her right wrist. At her feet the male slave Myron resumed his fastening of golden boots.
„You deserved that little reminder, did you not?“
„Y-yes... mmff... mmff... Y-yes, Mistress,“ sobbed the girl, carefully adjusting the straps of the brassiere so that the magnificent orbs were raised slightly to the fullest perfection. There was no other reply she dare make, despite the monstrous injustice of the treatment meted out to her. Her buttocks which had already been glowing with a hideous, fiery intensity, now carried five extra slivers of flame that seared even more deeply and relentlessly.
But a slave of Barbaria – especially a personal slave of her Highness Princess Alexena – could never expect to be free of such torments for any great length of time.
The five ships of the Barbarian fleet under the command of Captain Varian moved steadily towards the port of the city of Nexos. Each was a long double-banked galley which also carried masts and sails to catch any favourable winds. But there was no breeze on that warm early evening and there was only the long, regular sweep of oars to drive the vessels to their home destination.
Beneath the deck, in two tiers, were the galley slaves, two chained to each heavy oar. Naked bodies glistened with sweat and near-exhaustion lined every face. For with Nexos in sight and the triumphal pleasures of home-coming imminent, orders had been given for the pace to be increased – this pace being dictated by the rhythmic tap-tap of a drum. Aching muscles strained and rasping chests heaved as men, whose existence was more like that of expendable b**sts, drove themselves over and beyond normal limits.
There was, it may be said, considerable incentive to do so. For, on the upper and lower tiers of each ship, a galley-slave overseer strode along the cat-walk between the oarsmen on either side. In any society less woman-dominating than Barbaria it would have seemed strange that these overseers should have been women but, again, it was a tradition that had grown up over the years and been encouraged by successive female rulers.
These women, young and strong, had been specially selected for their tasks – and there was no lack of volunteers from among the military and guard class of Barbaria for such duties. Indeed, it was by no means uncommon for a woman of the upper class – a member of the court – to request a tour as galley-slave mistress. Such a one was Lady Livina on this particular expedition and she served aboard the vessel of its leader Captain Varian. Not only did she much enjoy his company but even more so her cruel nature delighted in the fact that, at any time, she could have eighty brute males sweating under her command. And under her lash.
The heat on the lower galley-deck was intense as Livina moved along the cat-walk. But this did not deter Livina. The sight of the straining arm-muscles and rippling backs was more than adequate compensation. There was not a single one of those backs which did not carry marks from the slim and snake-like ten-foot whip she carried. On many a back more weals than flesh could be seen. Nor did the heat entirely account for Lady Livina's state of nudity, though it was a factor. She was well aware of the effect her superb, statuesque beauty had upon men long-deprived – despite their appalling conditions and state of near-exhaustion. The power of sexual lust was of the strongest and could never be denied whatever the circumstances.
There was but one item she wore as, whip coiled, she stood with legs a little astride at the head of the cat-walk, facing her charges, and that was an item which enhanced her stature and her sexuality. It was a pair of high-heeled boots of gleaming black leather; boots which moulded her long limbs and which reached to within six inches of the tops of her strong, white thighs.
„Drive those oars in... deep... and long!“ she belloved above the multitudinous sounds of the galley. „Drive I say... you're going to finish this voyage at maximum stretch!“
Then, whip uncoiled, she suddenly came striding down the cat-walk. The whip snaked out and cracked across the quivering flesh of some poor wretch whose head had begun to droop and whose efforts were beginning to flag a little. A yelp of pain rose above the grunting tumult and the unfortunate slave's head jerked up as he drew yet again on what final reserves of strength he had left.
Craaacckkk!
Craaacckkk!
Two more braod backs got the same treatment and the resultant cries of pain were almost as much incentive to the rest of increase their efforts as the whip itself. Breats and buttocks swinging, Lady Livina moved back to the head of the cat-walk. Over-long as the voyage had been, in may ways she was sorry it would soon be over. It need hardly be said that her sentiments were not echoed by her sweating charges. Indeed, apart from the dread of the lash, the most potent factor which enabled them to continue at their back-breaking task was that in less than half an hour they would at last be released from their agonising toil.
On the upper galley-deck of the vessel a similar scene was being enacted. Just as it was on the other ships which swept, with bow-wave foaming, through the wine-dark sea toward Nexos.
On the main deck of Captain Varian's ship, known as `the Taurus´, all was bustle and noise as the recently captured male and female slave were being assembled on deck. This was customary at the end of a victorious expedition... so that the citicens of Barbaria could view the spoils of war.
These spoils were a motley crew. Yet, amongst them, some of the men and women were outstanding. Warrior-like men... proud and attractive women.
And prominent amongst these was the Lady Flavia, daughter of the King of the recently conquered land of Meno. She was a beautiful, auburn-haired creature who had not yet reached her twentieth year.
Everywhere whips were cracking as the chained booty was herded about the deck of `the Taurus´. Yet, somehow, Flavia's body escaped the searing bite of the lash. She simply assumed it was her rank – and that of a few handsome young men and women – which kept her immune. All the same, it was terrible enough to be kept naked and chained together with, and under the eyes of, people of both sexes who once had been far beneath her. Moreover, there were not only their eyes. There were the cruel and callous eyes of male and female overseers with those vicious whips coiled ready – and used so savagely whenever they deemed it necessary. Flavia's own flesh had shrivelled and quivered time and again at the sound of that leather biting and she had thanked the gods that she, at least, was being spared that added torment.
Thus it can be imagined with what force and fury Flavia resisted when two powerful male overseers came and took her, informing her of her role she was to play as they led her struggling towards the prow of `the Taurus´. The near-nudity of the great brutes sickened and terrified her – and their strength even more so. In their hands she felt she had no more strength than a babe in arms. And, moreover, those hands seemed utterly contemptuous of the fact that she was not only a woman but a high-born woman. Those hands touched her anywhere and everywhere, it seemed, as she fought her useless fight. How could one, any longer, maintain what pride and dignity was left to one under such circumstances.
„The sooner you feel a rod across this the better, little spitfire,“ one of them said as the prow was approached. Then he had slapped her hard on the buttocks. Oh the hideous shame of it!
„And that won't be long – once she gets on her knees before her Highness,“ laughed the other.
Then Flavia had been unceremoniously swung over the bows and secured by chains and manacles in a cruelly spreadeagled position, her bare back against the hard, rough timber of the ship, the foaming sea just beneath her. Never before had she known such aching pain in her limbs. Never before had she known such a terror. At times she hung there, for what seemed like hours, she thought she must faint. But she never did. Perhaps it was the occasional icy splash of salt spray over her that prevented it.
Slowly, through the mist of her tears and that spray, the coastline and the outlines of a mighty port appeared – and Flavia's terror increased. She realised that this terrible race, far mightier than hers and which had overcome them, was going to make a public spectacle of her. Again and again she cried out a great groaning cry of protest and horror to the fates which had brought her to such a dreadful pass. But those cries were swept idly away and lost amidst the hiss and surge of the passing sea.
They were lost, too, amidts the mounting clamour from the decks above as final preparations for the entry to Nexos were made. There, small groups of slaves were being grouped together – in fours, fives and sometimes sixes.
Some of these groups were all male, some all female, some mixed. With efficient speed, with a whip snaking out wherever there was the slightest show of resistance, overseer fastened each group together, cording the ankles of its member tightly. Then, by means of a derrick and a longer and thicker rope, each group, having first been flung to the deck, was hauled up so that it hung and swung inverted. It hung and swung like many carcasses of meat, except that carcasses would have been inert and would have made no sound.
Whereas in the case, each group was a struggling mass of human flesh in close contact and the air was filled with shrieks, yells and groans. Especially when the derricks moved so that each group of bundled and inverted slaves was suspended just beyond the ship's rail, with the sweeping oars and the foaming sea flecking past some thirty feet below them.
There was, however, a variation at every fifth or sixth outswung derrick. From each of these hung a single figure... and in each case it was that of a woman with features and form of special merit. Each of these women was, of course, like all the other slaves, quite naked. She had been fastened by a cruel trussing form of bondage which, with bent knees, pulled ankles behind her to which her wrists were fastened. The method of suspension was both simple and painful. Each woman had her hair plaited into a singlle thick pigtail, the knotted end of which was slipped through a hook at the end of the derrick rope.
Thus did the Barbarians treat fresh captives gathered on any expedition. And thus did they impress upon them their predilection for cruelty and their unlimited power.
It may also be added that this deliberate policy was designed by Princess Alexena and other leading members of her Court to be as impressive to the middle and lower classes who aided and served them – apart from the masses of slaves who were subject to them.
At no more than walking pace, the fleet of Captain Varian moved up the river estuary that narrowed into the port of Nexos itself. All the two tiers of oars had been shipped aboard, with the exception of one pair on each side, fore and aft. No longer was there any desire for speed. The arrival had been made and it was time for triumph to be enjoyed and spectacle to be made to the populace. The slow motion of the vessels allowed those who lined the banks of the shore and the quays to enjoy to the full shame and terror of the captives Barbaria had aquired through its skill and power.
Within `the Taurus´ Lady Livina contemplated with exceeding satisfaction the havocs she had wrought amongst her charges. Every man lay slumped groaning over his oar (apart from the two pairs which moved slowly). That was the lot of a galley slave; he could expect no more and no less. It was perhaps the most dreaded assignment of all and few could expect to survive more than a handful of such expeditions. There was but one hope – and to it each such slave clung. It was the prerogative of every galley mistress to assign up to ten of her charges to other duties if she so minded. The moment for that decision had now come and every man waited, tense with hope, even though he had been stretched beyond all normal reserves. Perhaps none would be so chosen; perhaps a few; perhaps ten.
Such a decision was always announced by a lash of the galley mistress' whip across the back and though for weeks that lash had been so dreaded, now it could not be more ardently prayed for! Naked, moving slowly and arrogantly in her high-heeled boots, Lady Livina stepped the cat-walk. Back and forth... once, twice, three times... she strode slowly revelling in the tension she knew throbbed in each heaving breast, revelling in her final moment of power and dragging it out to the last degree.
Crraacckk!
Her whip snaked out and bit into a raw and bloody back. A yelp of agony ended in blubbering moans of thanks and praise for so mighty, noble and generous a mistress!
Crraacckk!
A second slave howled... and received his blessed deliverance. Anything, yes, anything seemed better than the incessant sweating toil of the galleys. Especially in thise moments.
Three more times Lady Livina's whip cracked its deliverance... and then with haunches swaggering seductively, she stepped from the cat-walk and withdrew from the sweating stench of the lower deck. Her duty was done. The voyage was over. Within a few minutes she lay luxuriating in a bath of warm and scented water... devotedly attended upon by her two male slaves, each of whom she had singled out for such service from the oars of previous expeditions. Behind her she had left a groaning cargo of humanity amongst which the faint light of hope shone in five pairs of eyes.
When having bathed, her two slaves gently massaged her beautiful body with warm oils, and she could well understand their cringing reverence. The last thing on earth they could have wished for would be sent back to the Hell of the galley-oar. Which was a fate she could decree for them at the flick of her fingers!
The entry into Nexos took its traditional form. Those who witnessed it were, of course, members of the Court and the upper class who wished to do so. They were seated comfortably in special enclosures. Naturally, their attendant slaves witnesssed it too, but wit differing emotions. In addition there was a considerable throng of Court and public officials, of military men, of Guards, overseers and the like. These were what might be termed the `middle class´ of Barbaria.
Cheers, laughter, ribald comments rose loud and long as the five vessels slipped smoothly through the oily water to their berths. Each figure-head was greatly admired... and jeered and taunted. Vast merriment was aroused by the repeated lowering of the derricks... so that the group of victims, or a single one, was dropped into the water, there to remain for some half minute or more. How amusing to see them emerge streaming with water... spouting water... choking and gasping for breath! How very amusing... and how very indicative of the power of Barbaria over its captives! It was a carnival indeed. A carnival well worth waiting to enjoy.
In such moments every citizen of Barbaria was made aware that it was the greatest power on the known Earth. They were the masters. The rest were slaves.
Thus, so it seemed, it would always be.
The triumphal entry having been made, Captaon Varian, his aides and staff having disembarked, the overseers and guards attended to a variety of practical details. Those who had been under such atrocious bondage were released and assorted into their various categories, these having been already provisionally desifnated on voyage by the chief overseers. It was scarcely necessary to raise a whip during such proceedings for all were completely cowed after their appalling journey and its culmination. Flavia and her like were in one group and various lower orders in other groups, the groups in these lower orders being determined mainly by physical strength of handsomeness in the case of males or excellence of feature and figure in the case of females.
The high-born would be despatch for Princess Alexena's inspection. The remainder would be sent for public auction.
The lifes of all as free citizens were over. Hence-forth, in one degree or another, they would be slaves of the Barbarians.
the second Chapter: http://xhamster.com/user/Victor-Bruno/posts/233144.html
Chapter Three
Main Narrative
A Barbarian Triumph
On receiving the news, brought to her excitedly by one of her female courtiers, Princess Alexena, still half nude, sprang to her feet, hands clenching at her siedes, a triumphant look on her glittering hard features. During the previous few minutes she had been idly letting her mind dwell on the pleasures she'd had with Judilla or alternately contemplating the two slaves who attended her. Contemplating them not only physically but also their plight. It not only gave her cruel pleasure to observe the tracery of weals that covered the buttocks of both but also to try and imagine what it must be like like for them to serve in such close proximity to each other under such circumstances. The Princess was, of course, well aware of their former status and relationship – that was one of the main reasons why she had chosen them as personal body slaves. It must, she thought, indeed be most excruciatingly galling to have such treasured delights so close and so exposed, and yet be so helpless to enjoy them. She felt the pleasure-throb of cruel power within her. What Heaven it was to have that power – to be in her position – and what equal Hell it must be to be a slave – and in theirs. One day, she thought, I really might let them couple before me. That might be most amusing. They would, however, have to pay a penalty for such an unusual pleasure.
It was that moment that the news arrived. Myron was kneeling at her feet fastening the golden boots whilst Nerine was in the act of fastening the golden-net brassiere. Princess Alexena's movement was so sudden that the flimsy support ripped away and her white melon-shaped breasts swung naked and free. Seemingly unconcerned by this pretty incident, she stood tense as she demanded:
„How many ships?“
„Five, Highness...“ answered the courtier.
The Princess's white teeth clenched. „One missing,“ she hissed between them.
„So it would seem, Highness,“ answered the courtier carefully lowering her eyes. „But... but... „ she added, raising them again, „it is reported that each of the five ships carries a triumphal figure-head!“
„Ahhh... „ The tension seemed to go out of the Princess's body. „That bodes well,“ she said. „The expedition would appear to have been successful even though we have suffered some loss.“
It should be explained that the `triumphal figure-head´ referred to was a living being, either male or female, fastened naked to the prow of the ship. It was a sign that booty and slaves had been captured and the very fact that every ship sported such a trophy was a sign that the haul had been a good one. This cruel and arrogant form of display was a tradition that had grown up in the Fleet of Barbaria.
„Have you any orders, Highness?“ enquired the courtier.
Princess Alexena nodded. „Onky that Captain Varian is to report to me here as soon as he disembarks..“
„Yes, Highness,“ answered the young courtier, courtseying before she turned to leave.
Slowly, Princess Alexena seated herself and was silent for a few moments. Then she looked down and contemplated the torn piece of flimsy netting.
„That was very careless of you, Nerine,“ she said.
„Mistress... I... I beg pardon,“ began Nerine fearfully.
„You had better fetch another,“ continued Alexena evenly, „and as you do so, bring me the switch.“
„M-Mistress,“ stammered Nerine, her cheeks blanching, „the movement was so... so... s-sudden... I.“
Alexena's dark eyes glinted. „You aren't making excuses, are you slave?“ she demanded icily. „Or, far worse, disputing my words?“
„No... oh no, Mistress,“ answered Nerine hastily, turning to do as she had been bid.
„Because,“ went on Alexena, as she watched the swing of the already red and lacerated hindquarters as they moved across the room, „... if I thaought for one moment it was the latter, it is not just my switch you would feel but the whip! Yes... I'd have Ryar give you a flogging you wouldn't forget for many a day!“
The beautyful young slave girl's expression and demeanour as she returned with a new brassiere and the white, plaited leather switch, clearly indicated that she realised that the Princess would be as good as her word.
Alexena did not even deign to rise from the chair on which she was seated, merely kicking aside the male slave Myron who had continued with the fastening of the gold boots.
„Get your bottom up, girl,“ she said, tapping the plaited switch of white leather on the floor. „Well up.“
The tears were already filming Nerine's eyes as she knelt before her supreme Mistress, thrusting her hindquarters up abjectly. It was bad enough to be punished for any fault – but far worse for one which was not of one's own making. The girl went on hands and knees, palms flat to the floor. Her nose went down, her bottom went up, the back dipping. She was presented most conveniently for Princess Alexena's attentions.
The flexible switch, with its whalebone core whistled down and bit into the already lacerated flesh.
„Yeeee... ooowww ...ooowww,“ gasped Nerine, sprawling forward, her naked breasts crushing and spreading on the tiled floor. There she lay for a few moments, squirming and squirming, the flesh of her lush bottom juddering. But Nerine knew she must not remain there, and with teeth clenching in effort, she forced herself back to the original position to receive the second stroke.
Sssswwweeepppttt!
It came as viciously as the first... to send Nerine gasping and slithering, bottom jerking and gyrating, across the cold floor. There, again, she remainded for a few moments before forcing herself to resume her former position.
Five times Alexena made her gasp and squirm in this fashion, her eyes dancing with sadistic amusement at the spectacle. It was not a severe punishment by the standards of the Palace but all the same it gave her keen pleasure to inflict it. It was strange, she thought, as she ordered Nerine to rise, how one sometimes seemed to get greater pleasure from inflicting minor punishments rather than more severe ones.
The tears flowed freely down the slave girl's pretty cheeks and her superbly-formed full breasts heaved with her sobs as she resumed the task of fitting on her Mistress's brassiere. It was an item she herself was never permitted to wear. Like all her other womanly charms, her own breasts were permanently exposed to the gaze of all who might wish to look upon them.
„I cannot abide carelessness, Nerine – you know that,“ said Alexena, looping the switch over her right wrist. At her feet the male slave Myron resumed his fastening of golden boots.
„You deserved that little reminder, did you not?“
„Y-yes... mmff... mmff... Y-yes, Mistress,“ sobbed the girl, carefully adjusting the straps of the brassiere so that the magnificent orbs were raised slightly to the fullest perfection. There was no other reply she dare make, despite the monstrous injustice of the treatment meted out to her. Her buttocks which had already been glowing with a hideous, fiery intensity, now carried five extra slivers of flame that seared even more deeply and relentlessly.
But a slave of Barbaria – especially a personal slave of her Highness Princess Alexena – could never expect to be free of such torments for any great length of time.
The five ships of the Barbarian fleet under the command of Captain Varian moved steadily towards the port of the city of Nexos. Each was a long double-banked galley which also carried masts and sails to catch any favourable winds. But there was no breeze on that warm early evening and there was only the long, regular sweep of oars to drive the vessels to their home destination.
Beneath the deck, in two tiers, were the galley slaves, two chained to each heavy oar. Naked bodies glistened with sweat and near-exhaustion lined every face. For with Nexos in sight and the triumphal pleasures of home-coming imminent, orders had been given for the pace to be increased – this pace being dictated by the rhythmic tap-tap of a drum. Aching muscles strained and rasping chests heaved as men, whose existence was more like that of expendable b**sts, drove themselves over and beyond normal limits.
There was, it may be said, considerable incentive to do so. For, on the upper and lower tiers of each ship, a galley-slave overseer strode along the cat-walk between the oarsmen on either side. In any society less woman-dominating than Barbaria it would have seemed strange that these overseers should have been women but, again, it was a tradition that had grown up over the years and been encouraged by successive female rulers.
These women, young and strong, had been specially selected for their tasks – and there was no lack of volunteers from among the military and guard class of Barbaria for such duties. Indeed, it was by no means uncommon for a woman of the upper class – a member of the court – to request a tour as galley-slave mistress. Such a one was Lady Livina on this particular expedition and she served aboard the vessel of its leader Captain Varian. Not only did she much enjoy his company but even more so her cruel nature delighted in the fact that, at any time, she could have eighty brute males sweating under her command. And under her lash.
The heat on the lower galley-deck was intense as Livina moved along the cat-walk. But this did not deter Livina. The sight of the straining arm-muscles and rippling backs was more than adequate compensation. There was not a single one of those backs which did not carry marks from the slim and snake-like ten-foot whip she carried. On many a back more weals than flesh could be seen. Nor did the heat entirely account for Lady Livina's state of nudity, though it was a factor. She was well aware of the effect her superb, statuesque beauty had upon men long-deprived – despite their appalling conditions and state of near-exhaustion. The power of sexual lust was of the strongest and could never be denied whatever the circumstances.
There was but one item she wore as, whip coiled, she stood with legs a little astride at the head of the cat-walk, facing her charges, and that was an item which enhanced her stature and her sexuality. It was a pair of high-heeled boots of gleaming black leather; boots which moulded her long limbs and which reached to within six inches of the tops of her strong, white thighs.
„Drive those oars in... deep... and long!“ she belloved above the multitudinous sounds of the galley. „Drive I say... you're going to finish this voyage at maximum stretch!“
Then, whip uncoiled, she suddenly came striding down the cat-walk. The whip snaked out and cracked across the quivering flesh of some poor wretch whose head had begun to droop and whose efforts were beginning to flag a little. A yelp of pain rose above the grunting tumult and the unfortunate slave's head jerked up as he drew yet again on what final reserves of strength he had left.
Craaacckkk!
Craaacckkk!
Two more braod backs got the same treatment and the resultant cries of pain were almost as much incentive to the rest of increase their efforts as the whip itself. Breats and buttocks swinging, Lady Livina moved back to the head of the cat-walk. Over-long as the voyage had been, in may ways she was sorry it would soon be over. It need hardly be said that her sentiments were not echoed by her sweating charges. Indeed, apart from the dread of the lash, the most potent factor which enabled them to continue at their back-breaking task was that in less than half an hour they would at last be released from their agonising toil.
On the upper galley-deck of the vessel a similar scene was being enacted. Just as it was on the other ships which swept, with bow-wave foaming, through the wine-dark sea toward Nexos.
On the main deck of Captain Varian's ship, known as `the Taurus´, all was bustle and noise as the recently captured male and female slave were being assembled on deck. This was customary at the end of a victorious expedition... so that the citicens of Barbaria could view the spoils of war.
These spoils were a motley crew. Yet, amongst them, some of the men and women were outstanding. Warrior-like men... proud and attractive women.
And prominent amongst these was the Lady Flavia, daughter of the King of the recently conquered land of Meno. She was a beautiful, auburn-haired creature who had not yet reached her twentieth year.
Everywhere whips were cracking as the chained booty was herded about the deck of `the Taurus´. Yet, somehow, Flavia's body escaped the searing bite of the lash. She simply assumed it was her rank – and that of a few handsome young men and women – which kept her immune. All the same, it was terrible enough to be kept naked and chained together with, and under the eyes of, people of both sexes who once had been far beneath her. Moreover, there were not only their eyes. There were the cruel and callous eyes of male and female overseers with those vicious whips coiled ready – and used so savagely whenever they deemed it necessary. Flavia's own flesh had shrivelled and quivered time and again at the sound of that leather biting and she had thanked the gods that she, at least, was being spared that added torment.
Thus it can be imagined with what force and fury Flavia resisted when two powerful male overseers came and took her, informing her of her role she was to play as they led her struggling towards the prow of `the Taurus´. The near-nudity of the great brutes sickened and terrified her – and their strength even more so. In their hands she felt she had no more strength than a babe in arms. And, moreover, those hands seemed utterly contemptuous of the fact that she was not only a woman but a high-born woman. Those hands touched her anywhere and everywhere, it seemed, as she fought her useless fight. How could one, any longer, maintain what pride and dignity was left to one under such circumstances.
„The sooner you feel a rod across this the better, little spitfire,“ one of them said as the prow was approached. Then he had slapped her hard on the buttocks. Oh the hideous shame of it!
„And that won't be long – once she gets on her knees before her Highness,“ laughed the other.
Then Flavia had been unceremoniously swung over the bows and secured by chains and manacles in a cruelly spreadeagled position, her bare back against the hard, rough timber of the ship, the foaming sea just beneath her. Never before had she known such aching pain in her limbs. Never before had she known such a terror. At times she hung there, for what seemed like hours, she thought she must faint. But she never did. Perhaps it was the occasional icy splash of salt spray over her that prevented it.
Slowly, through the mist of her tears and that spray, the coastline and the outlines of a mighty port appeared – and Flavia's terror increased. She realised that this terrible race, far mightier than hers and which had overcome them, was going to make a public spectacle of her. Again and again she cried out a great groaning cry of protest and horror to the fates which had brought her to such a dreadful pass. But those cries were swept idly away and lost amidst the hiss and surge of the passing sea.
They were lost, too, amidts the mounting clamour from the decks above as final preparations for the entry to Nexos were made. There, small groups of slaves were being grouped together – in fours, fives and sometimes sixes.
Some of these groups were all male, some all female, some mixed. With efficient speed, with a whip snaking out wherever there was the slightest show of resistance, overseer fastened each group together, cording the ankles of its member tightly. Then, by means of a derrick and a longer and thicker rope, each group, having first been flung to the deck, was hauled up so that it hung and swung inverted. It hung and swung like many carcasses of meat, except that carcasses would have been inert and would have made no sound.
Whereas in the case, each group was a struggling mass of human flesh in close contact and the air was filled with shrieks, yells and groans. Especially when the derricks moved so that each group of bundled and inverted slaves was suspended just beyond the ship's rail, with the sweeping oars and the foaming sea flecking past some thirty feet below them.
There was, however, a variation at every fifth or sixth outswung derrick. From each of these hung a single figure... and in each case it was that of a woman with features and form of special merit. Each of these women was, of course, like all the other slaves, quite naked. She had been fastened by a cruel trussing form of bondage which, with bent knees, pulled ankles behind her to which her wrists were fastened. The method of suspension was both simple and painful. Each woman had her hair plaited into a singlle thick pigtail, the knotted end of which was slipped through a hook at the end of the derrick rope.
Thus did the Barbarians treat fresh captives gathered on any expedition. And thus did they impress upon them their predilection for cruelty and their unlimited power.
It may also be added that this deliberate policy was designed by Princess Alexena and other leading members of her Court to be as impressive to the middle and lower classes who aided and served them – apart from the masses of slaves who were subject to them.
At no more than walking pace, the fleet of Captain Varian moved up the river estuary that narrowed into the port of Nexos itself. All the two tiers of oars had been shipped aboard, with the exception of one pair on each side, fore and aft. No longer was there any desire for speed. The arrival had been made and it was time for triumph to be enjoyed and spectacle to be made to the populace. The slow motion of the vessels allowed those who lined the banks of the shore and the quays to enjoy to the full shame and terror of the captives Barbaria had aquired through its skill and power.
Within `the Taurus´ Lady Livina contemplated with exceeding satisfaction the havocs she had wrought amongst her charges. Every man lay slumped groaning over his oar (apart from the two pairs which moved slowly). That was the lot of a galley slave; he could expect no more and no less. It was perhaps the most dreaded assignment of all and few could expect to survive more than a handful of such expeditions. There was but one hope – and to it each such slave clung. It was the prerogative of every galley mistress to assign up to ten of her charges to other duties if she so minded. The moment for that decision had now come and every man waited, tense with hope, even though he had been stretched beyond all normal reserves. Perhaps none would be so chosen; perhaps a few; perhaps ten.
Such a decision was always announced by a lash of the galley mistress' whip across the back and though for weeks that lash had been so dreaded, now it could not be more ardently prayed for! Naked, moving slowly and arrogantly in her high-heeled boots, Lady Livina stepped the cat-walk. Back and forth... once, twice, three times... she strode slowly revelling in the tension she knew throbbed in each heaving breast, revelling in her final moment of power and dragging it out to the last degree.
Crraacckk!
Her whip snaked out and bit into a raw and bloody back. A yelp of agony ended in blubbering moans of thanks and praise for so mighty, noble and generous a mistress!
Crraacckk!
A second slave howled... and received his blessed deliverance. Anything, yes, anything seemed better than the incessant sweating toil of the galleys. Especially in thise moments.
Three more times Lady Livina's whip cracked its deliverance... and then with haunches swaggering seductively, she stepped from the cat-walk and withdrew from the sweating stench of the lower deck. Her duty was done. The voyage was over. Within a few minutes she lay luxuriating in a bath of warm and scented water... devotedly attended upon by her two male slaves, each of whom she had singled out for such service from the oars of previous expeditions. Behind her she had left a groaning cargo of humanity amongst which the faint light of hope shone in five pairs of eyes.
When having bathed, her two slaves gently massaged her beautiful body with warm oils, and she could well understand their cringing reverence. The last thing on earth they could have wished for would be sent back to the Hell of the galley-oar. Which was a fate she could decree for them at the flick of her fingers!
The entry into Nexos took its traditional form. Those who witnessed it were, of course, members of the Court and the upper class who wished to do so. They were seated comfortably in special enclosures. Naturally, their attendant slaves witnesssed it too, but wit differing emotions. In addition there was a considerable throng of Court and public officials, of military men, of Guards, overseers and the like. These were what might be termed the `middle class´ of Barbaria.
Cheers, laughter, ribald comments rose loud and long as the five vessels slipped smoothly through the oily water to their berths. Each figure-head was greatly admired... and jeered and taunted. Vast merriment was aroused by the repeated lowering of the derricks... so that the group of victims, or a single one, was dropped into the water, there to remain for some half minute or more. How amusing to see them emerge streaming with water... spouting water... choking and gasping for breath! How very amusing... and how very indicative of the power of Barbaria over its captives! It was a carnival indeed. A carnival well worth waiting to enjoy.
In such moments every citizen of Barbaria was made aware that it was the greatest power on the known Earth. They were the masters. The rest were slaves.
Thus, so it seemed, it would always be.
The triumphal entry having been made, Captaon Varian, his aides and staff having disembarked, the overseers and guards attended to a variety of practical details. Those who had been under such atrocious bondage were released and assorted into their various categories, these having been already provisionally desifnated on voyage by the chief overseers. It was scarcely necessary to raise a whip during such proceedings for all were completely cowed after their appalling journey and its culmination. Flavia and her like were in one group and various lower orders in other groups, the groups in these lower orders being determined mainly by physical strength of handsomeness in the case of males or excellence of feature and figure in the case of females.
The high-born would be despatch for Princess Alexena's inspection. The remainder would be sent for public auction.
The lifes of all as free citizens were over. Hence-forth, in one degree or another, they would be slaves of the Barbarians.
Lesley
- 22.11.2020
- 17
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