The year is 122 in the year of the Caliphate Which Is Fallen; or 2616 in the common calendar. My name is Alani, and I am or was a princess of the nation of Kilmjada in the world of Harvi 4. The title is in doubt because I have been captured by the marauding armies of the Raja Nir, I believe my people to be defeated, and I fear for my life and honor. There being no hope of rescue, I will die by my own hand at the first opportunity, but for now I am chained by the ankle and locked inside a crate used for livestock, with a few of my possessions. The pod I scribe on has been disabled so that it cannot transmit or record, but at least I can still scribe on it.
I do not know why I am still alive, and I fear to consider the reasons. When I was dragged from the capital, it was in flames, and I saw my father and two of my brothers killed. I do not weep for them because they died well, weapon in hand. But there is no one to ransom me.
I will not cry or scream or grieve. I am 23 and was raised to be brave in the face of adversity, and to die well if need be. Until that time I scribe this account of the horrors done to me as testament to those who come after. May the anger of the moon god fall upon the Raja Nir for daring to have me dragged, as livestock, to his capital.
++
Once in the capital of Raja Nir, I am taken to the baths in haste, and this surprises me. I had not expected the virtue of cleanliness in this city, in which all people live as dogs. Once within the baths I am hauled, unwillingly and by the chain on my ankle, out of the reeking crate and into a room of steaming pools and thick towels, and the ever vigilant cameras. I was not surprised to see the room populated with both men and women, and both slave and free. I was in Narajin, in the land of Narsana; the people had no wisdom here, no education and no sense of modesty. Naked slave women washed men. A few naked slave men washed a woman who was nearly moaning in delight from the touch of their crude hands. (I burned in shame for her.)
The man in charge of my crate bellowed for attention.
"Attend! Presenting the sole surviving princess of Kilmjada, last nation of Kam, the Caliphate Which Is Fallen; Alani the Fair, all honor to her name!"
This was how I learned that my elder sister had perished, but these people would not see those tears.
Everyone in the room stared at me, in sudden silence, and I stood straight, determined to not be embarrassed by the horrid grime and tattered clothing that clung to me from my difficult journey and rough handling. I was astonished that this cattle-herder-turned-guard had given a proper announcement of my name and rank, and I raised my head high.
And then everyone erupted in cruel, mocking laughter.
"Look at the proud peacock!" the slave nearest me cried. "But oh her finery and feathers need cleaning! Here, your princessness!"
With a shove she sent me flying backwards, and I tripped into a wide tub of cold water, foul from some previous occupant. Even as I got my head back above the water she was on me, ripping at the foul scraps of cloth I'd travelled in.
"You dare to-" I snapped out, and then she had my head underwater again until I choked. Then she pulled me back to the surface, and slapped me across the face.
"Daughter of murderers," she snapped, "You are no princess here. And you'll be punished for your people's crimes. You'll be taught to crawl and beg and yip like the cur you are."
I did not deserve this. There have been atrocities on both sides of the war, but we were not the aggressors. And I was a young princess, with no political power; by our laws I could wield no authority until I was twenty five. I had nothing to do with the conduct of the war, and in a just country I would not have been held accountable.
I slapped her back. "I may no longer be a princess, but you have never been anything but a slave!"
She was stronger and larger than I am -- I am just under 150 centimeters tall -- and as she held me underwater again, I realized I would not be let up. So be it. I composed my soul to the moon god and prepared to inhale water-
Then I was on my feet, hauled up by the hair, with the slave girl sprawling at my feet. The man who had pulled me up was behind me and his grip did not let me turn my head, but I knew he was far taller than I, and very strong.
"All you, hear me, and you most of all, contemptible slave," he shouted. "This little morsel is to be presented to Prince Arj in an hour and I do not think he wants to see her dead. And by the powers, a princess of even Kilmjada is worthy of better than drowning in a bath."
There was a cold stinging down my back, and my clothing, such as it was, all fell away. I suddenly realized he'd run a knife through it. I flushed red in anger and shame; no one except my slave girl had seen me naked since the age of ten. Add this to their sins, o god of the moon.
"Clean her up and present her oiled and pretty to the guard in fifty minutes. Questions will be asked of everyone here if she is abused or marked and I don't think Prince Arj will spare the torments to get truth told."
The torments. My blood ran cold. They had been abolished in my country before I was born and I had not believed they were still in use anywhere. I was truly among the most savage of barbarians.
++
I was unchained, and bathed in warm water and with clean soap, by two men and a woman. The man who had pulled me from the rude slave, stood nearby and watched closely. The men were well controlled and touched nothing unseemly, but the woman was apparently a whore and found it amusing to run her hands over me, sensually and provocatively, while talking to the men.
"Pretty face she has, and with her long strawberry blonde hair she's quite a novelty, isn't she. What do you think Arj wants her for? Maybe for these fine breasts? Hold still, princess, I'm sure you've been washed by a pretty girl before... your nipples seem to like the soap, or is it the men's gazes they like? No shame in that, after all, they also look at mine and see how hard they are..."
Her fingertips moved slowly over my nipples and they hardened further, and I closed my eyes in horror. She was a dog and a whore.
"Don't be afraid, pretty one, I see how they want you, with your slender waist and your flared hips and the shapely legs, but they don't dare take you. Not if Arj wants you. But I bet they'll think of you as they torment me with their cocks, both of them at once..."
I glared at her, shuddering in fresh horror, and recited prayers to myself. And then one of the men began to touch her as she touched me; and I bit my lip and closed my eyes tightly, because I knew very little of this and did not want to learn from them. (I had watched some of the royal concubines when I was a bit younger and I knew the basics of a man and a woman together, but it was all I knew and as much as I needed to know until I was 25.)
"Oh, Sarno, stop," the slut moaned. "She has to be spotless and I -- can't -- no, not both of you at once! At least- at least wait- oh, both of you, look at how the princess blushes, and what color do you think she'll be when Arj is done? I wish the three of us could watch her with him..."
"Are all the women of this country such shameless whores?" I snapped.
My rescuer spoke, darkly. "Oh, princess. When they are done with you, you won't be able to open your legs fast enough. If Arj keeps you, shameless whore will be the nicest term for what you'll become for him. He crumbles the will of women the way I crumble brittle straw between my fingers."
"Death first," I said, flatly.
That elicited a brief chuckle "The moon god rejects suicides, doesn't he?"
"Any death with honor is acceptable to the moon, ignorant dog, and I shall die nobly, reciting prayers."
"Well, you know your superstitions better than I ever will. The moon is a chunk of rock in a fixed orbit and I assure you it is uninterested in your death. Die praying if you like; your brother will not have that option."
And my stomach sank within me and my blood was ice. Only one of my brothers had been still unaccounted to me - little Telano, of the tender age of ten. As a latecomer to the family, he had been much loved by my parents, enough to provoke some jealousy when I was younger, but I dearly loved him now, and he was respectful and kind to his sisters. But he had ever been one for neglecting his weapons studies, even as war had closed in, and he had probably been captured unarmed and with no chance to offer his soul to the moon.
"My brothers all died nobly, defending my mother," I said.
"Sorry, princess, at least one of them lived and was dragged here a little before you. And if you misbehave in any way, they may let you see him, on, say, the third day of torment. They are still sane, so early in the process, you know, but usually incapable of much speech..."
"Lord Tir, please, stop," whispered the woman. "Not even a daughter of dogs deserves such talk. You make me shake."
"He need not stop, since it is only meaningless lies he speaks," I said, and I spit at his feet. Which was a sin, for to spit at a lie you must know it to be a lie; but he would not know that. Forgive me, moon, for this unseemliness.
His hand lifted, and from the way he towered over me and from the span of his chest, I knew a blow from him would have sent me sailing across the room, but I lifted my face and waited calmly. He was 190 centimeters at the least, and the muscle of his upper arm made my calves look like twigs. But it would only be bruises, and I would not show fear.
His eyes smoldered in fury, but he dropped his hand again. "It won't be me that marks your skin before Prince Arj has his look at you. Afterwards, if he rejects you, I will teach you the consequence of spitting at a Lord of Narsana. It will be a long lesson. And if by chance he takes a fancy to you, well, what happens then will satisfy my desire for retribution."
"So the Lords of Narsana spend their days planning retributions against women? It is a marvel a people so weak got as far as my capital."
His smile was evil and mirthless. "I don't doubt our customs regarding the treatment of women will seem barbaric to you. And you will find it very strange that those same customs will make you burn to please men in ways you never imagined."
I spat again, and this time sinlessly.
He turned to the two men. "Toy with the slave girl," he snapped. "And you, former princess-" his hand was again in my hair and I was suddenly out of the tub and on my knees, facing the slave, "-will watch, eyes open. You'll learn about your new role in this country."
The slave gasped as she was forced onto her back by the two men, and then they knelt on her limbs, pinning her, legs apart, arms over her head. She was not much older than me, and attractive, and the men were grimly pleased by their orders. I thought, secretly, that the slave girl would be as well, since her slutty behavior had been so public before. But there was fear in her eyes as she looked up at Lord Tir; fear and pleading. What response that got her, I could not see; he again held me tight by the hair and I could not turn my head at all.
I closed my eyes, and immediately the slave girl gasped. "Princess, no. Obey him. The more disobedient you are, the worse it goes for me."
As if I cared? I closed my eyes tighter.
"I beg of you- oh! Oh please no!"
I did not know what had happened, but the next sound was unmistakable. She was slapped. It was a thing that happened often to slaves in any country, and a familiar enough sound; I'd slapped my own slave any number of times when her attention wandered. But here instead of the short gasp I expected in reply, there was a soft moan, and then panting. I had heard such panting among my father's concubines, but they had been in secluded, private places (and not easy for even a curious sixteen year old girl to get to.) To sound so wanton in public...
Another slap, and she whimpered in clear and deep arousal.
"What are you?" A man snapped at her.
"A slave," she whispered.
"What is the work of a slave?"
"To be pleasing."
"What pleases men most?"
"The use of a woman's body," she said, in a strangely little-girl voice. And then: "Princess, have mercy. They will rape me to death if you don't obey. You have no love for me, fair enough, but I am a good slave."
I was not surprised that ancient formula was in use here - I think it is universal in all the worlds. A slave's life is hard and they are prone to being used as pawns in the schemes of their betters, but in most civilized places they can still lay claim to justice if they have served well. The rules are simple: if a slave is abused beyond her station, she can state "I am a good slave." She then submits to whatever is asked of her, but afterwards her acts of service are judged by someone independent of her master. If her service has been loyal and without real fault, she can be removed from her master and resold, or even set free. But if her service is judged wanting, she may be put to death. Of course, the slave's hope is often in neither of these outcomes, but that the Master will reconsider whatever abuse he is meting out, rather than risk losing his property. It is a dangerous card to play, but it is generally the only one the slave has.
What was surprising was that she'd address her plea to me. I certainly did not own her, and I had no say in what happened here. And I was not likely to be merciful, not to anyone here.
"Make that plea to your owner. What happens to you is all one to me."
She whimpered for a few moments, and then moaned, low and deep. She was slapped again, and her breathing became a frantic pant.
"No," she moaned. "Not... no, please..."
I suddenly realized I was burning with curiosity, and I was horrified at myself. It did not help that Lord Tir, behind me, had my head pulled tight against him, and his erection was throbbing at the back of my neck. (Yes, I know about men and erections; I'm not completely ignorant. But I've never seen one up close or felt one pressed against me, and I found it deeply disturbing that men had this very obviously intense physical symptom just from looking at... whatever was happening.)
"Please, no... I can't hold still from... no, please. Don't slap me again, I'll be good, I'll be so good... I'll... I'll be whatever you want..." She whispered, huskily.
So shameful -- but my body blazed with curiosity, and with... more. Even in my country, slaves (of both sexes) were sometimes sexual playthings, and I knew, though I had never witnessed it, that some were trained to be especially satisfying, whatever that means. The very best became concubines, scarcely slaves at all, expected to please a man whenever and however he wished, but also taken care of and protected...
My eyes slitted open. A royal princess to forswear the touch of men until of age, but in truth my sister had been less than careful about that rule; she'd been enthusiastic about being careless with it. And she mocked me for being so cold, as she called it, so dedicated to the moon in the sky while for missing pleasure here on earth. Some nights I had heard her moaning like an animal in delight, and though I told her it sickened me (and sometimes it had), at other times I'd burned with curiosity and a nameless, wicked longing. I felt it again now, a thousandfold more intense now that it was not my sister. I shivered -- and opened my eyes wider.
The slave was caught between the two men. They were kneeling, facing each other, and her back was to the chest of one while her widespread legs embraced the other. The one behind her had her breasts in his large hands, and his fingertips ruthlessly worked her nipples. His lips were against her ear, and whatever he was whispering was unseating the slave's reason. The other man had his erection in his hand, and was rubbing the tip of it, up and down, slowly, against the woman's just parted flower. It was obvious she was not permitted to move, but the twitching of her hips and thighs told me she was finding movement very hard to resist. I have run a finger along that place -- moon, forgive me -- and I knew how intense the sensations became, and how it became harder and harder to stop. She had no way to stop it, and from the look of her misery it was obvious she'd been forbidden to take the pleasure from it that I knew existed, but have never experienced.
Her hips bucked suddenly -- she'd tried to impale herself on that impossibly ugly, impossibly fascinating shaft. She was instantly slapped, across the face and breast. The slap only aroused her further; her whole body was shuddering.
Such a shaft was right behind me, hard and shifting against my neck. For the first time I realized what my situation really was -- I was lovely, helpless, and in a land where men used women for amusement and pleasure and without a single thought for the woman. If the Prince of this land had not called for me, I'd likely have been treated like this slave, and even now be feeling-
I shied away from that thought. I must be strong.
Suddenly the man in front of me pushed the head of his shaft into the hapless slave, and just as quickly pulled it out again. He snarled, softly; but tears trickled from her eyes and she cried out in need. I have never seen nipples so hard, lips so wet, and as for the clearly visible pistil of her flower, throbbing among her petals...
Lord Tir murmured down to me, "You are looking at your future."
I said nothing.
The slave girl sobbed softly as the man in front of her pushed his shaft into her, slowly and firmly, and once it was buried in her, he began to roughly massage her flower, and then to quickly pinch and tug-
She writhed, and her legs stroked his back, trying to urge him to move more, to repeatedly thrust inside her. Instead, the man behind her shifted, lowered her to the ground, took out his own shaft and forced it between her lips-
I didn't know a woman could be reduced to such helpless begging. It was impossible to look away; her desire was compelling and hypnotic. She needed them to take, she needed to give, and above all she needed the release of her pent up and agonizingly frustrated hunger. There was no shame in her at all, it didn't matter how many people saw her; there was only an animal lust. Once, just once, I stroked myself until the pleasure was maddening, then literally painful. She was far past that, but she only wanted more. I realized for the first time what a man can do to a woman, and I flushed hot to my toes because I could understand, to my horror, how a woman could want this.
I closed my eyes again, in shame for the way my body -- my naked body -- was reacting to what I had seen. And then I felt a deeper shame -- I realized I'd been lightly rubbing my head against Lord Tir's shaft, completely unaware of it-
Sobbing, I whispered "Stop, take me away from this."
The scene with the slave shifted again; the man buried inside her had reached the limit of his self-control, and he slid over her and just pounded her flesh.. She shrieked, thrashing, and the other man held her wrists over her head and against the floor. She was completely helpless.
I was shaking now, and I have never burned to be touched by a man the way I did now. It was something like jealousy -- this slave, this dog, was experiencing something I could not even imagine-
Moon, forgive me! I was forced to feel this hunger, deliver me from these barbarians!
Lord Tir spoke -- to another slave. "You. Girl. Stop staring and get the combs and makeup. This captured morsel at my feet has to be made up for her appointment, and time is wasting."
The girl ran on swift, bare feet to fetch a box, and then nearly skidded to a stop in front of me. "Please, daughter of rajas, I must do this and would rather not suffer the humiliations of Glana, the slave behind me. Let me make you up without a fuss, you must look good or you and others will suffer."
I do not know why I am still alive, and I fear to consider the reasons. When I was dragged from the capital, it was in flames, and I saw my father and two of my brothers killed. I do not weep for them because they died well, weapon in hand. But there is no one to ransom me.
I will not cry or scream or grieve. I am 23 and was raised to be brave in the face of adversity, and to die well if need be. Until that time I scribe this account of the horrors done to me as testament to those who come after. May the anger of the moon god fall upon the Raja Nir for daring to have me dragged, as livestock, to his capital.
++
Once in the capital of Raja Nir, I am taken to the baths in haste, and this surprises me. I had not expected the virtue of cleanliness in this city, in which all people live as dogs. Once within the baths I am hauled, unwillingly and by the chain on my ankle, out of the reeking crate and into a room of steaming pools and thick towels, and the ever vigilant cameras. I was not surprised to see the room populated with both men and women, and both slave and free. I was in Narajin, in the land of Narsana; the people had no wisdom here, no education and no sense of modesty. Naked slave women washed men. A few naked slave men washed a woman who was nearly moaning in delight from the touch of their crude hands. (I burned in shame for her.)
The man in charge of my crate bellowed for attention.
"Attend! Presenting the sole surviving princess of Kilmjada, last nation of Kam, the Caliphate Which Is Fallen; Alani the Fair, all honor to her name!"
This was how I learned that my elder sister had perished, but these people would not see those tears.
Everyone in the room stared at me, in sudden silence, and I stood straight, determined to not be embarrassed by the horrid grime and tattered clothing that clung to me from my difficult journey and rough handling. I was astonished that this cattle-herder-turned-guard had given a proper announcement of my name and rank, and I raised my head high.
And then everyone erupted in cruel, mocking laughter.
"Look at the proud peacock!" the slave nearest me cried. "But oh her finery and feathers need cleaning! Here, your princessness!"
With a shove she sent me flying backwards, and I tripped into a wide tub of cold water, foul from some previous occupant. Even as I got my head back above the water she was on me, ripping at the foul scraps of cloth I'd travelled in.
"You dare to-" I snapped out, and then she had my head underwater again until I choked. Then she pulled me back to the surface, and slapped me across the face.
"Daughter of murderers," she snapped, "You are no princess here. And you'll be punished for your people's crimes. You'll be taught to crawl and beg and yip like the cur you are."
I did not deserve this. There have been atrocities on both sides of the war, but we were not the aggressors. And I was a young princess, with no political power; by our laws I could wield no authority until I was twenty five. I had nothing to do with the conduct of the war, and in a just country I would not have been held accountable.
I slapped her back. "I may no longer be a princess, but you have never been anything but a slave!"
She was stronger and larger than I am -- I am just under 150 centimeters tall -- and as she held me underwater again, I realized I would not be let up. So be it. I composed my soul to the moon god and prepared to inhale water-
Then I was on my feet, hauled up by the hair, with the slave girl sprawling at my feet. The man who had pulled me up was behind me and his grip did not let me turn my head, but I knew he was far taller than I, and very strong.
"All you, hear me, and you most of all, contemptible slave," he shouted. "This little morsel is to be presented to Prince Arj in an hour and I do not think he wants to see her dead. And by the powers, a princess of even Kilmjada is worthy of better than drowning in a bath."
There was a cold stinging down my back, and my clothing, such as it was, all fell away. I suddenly realized he'd run a knife through it. I flushed red in anger and shame; no one except my slave girl had seen me naked since the age of ten. Add this to their sins, o god of the moon.
"Clean her up and present her oiled and pretty to the guard in fifty minutes. Questions will be asked of everyone here if she is abused or marked and I don't think Prince Arj will spare the torments to get truth told."
The torments. My blood ran cold. They had been abolished in my country before I was born and I had not believed they were still in use anywhere. I was truly among the most savage of barbarians.
++
I was unchained, and bathed in warm water and with clean soap, by two men and a woman. The man who had pulled me from the rude slave, stood nearby and watched closely. The men were well controlled and touched nothing unseemly, but the woman was apparently a whore and found it amusing to run her hands over me, sensually and provocatively, while talking to the men.
"Pretty face she has, and with her long strawberry blonde hair she's quite a novelty, isn't she. What do you think Arj wants her for? Maybe for these fine breasts? Hold still, princess, I'm sure you've been washed by a pretty girl before... your nipples seem to like the soap, or is it the men's gazes they like? No shame in that, after all, they also look at mine and see how hard they are..."
Her fingertips moved slowly over my nipples and they hardened further, and I closed my eyes in horror. She was a dog and a whore.
"Don't be afraid, pretty one, I see how they want you, with your slender waist and your flared hips and the shapely legs, but they don't dare take you. Not if Arj wants you. But I bet they'll think of you as they torment me with their cocks, both of them at once..."
I glared at her, shuddering in fresh horror, and recited prayers to myself. And then one of the men began to touch her as she touched me; and I bit my lip and closed my eyes tightly, because I knew very little of this and did not want to learn from them. (I had watched some of the royal concubines when I was a bit younger and I knew the basics of a man and a woman together, but it was all I knew and as much as I needed to know until I was 25.)
"Oh, Sarno, stop," the slut moaned. "She has to be spotless and I -- can't -- no, not both of you at once! At least- at least wait- oh, both of you, look at how the princess blushes, and what color do you think she'll be when Arj is done? I wish the three of us could watch her with him..."
"Are all the women of this country such shameless whores?" I snapped.
My rescuer spoke, darkly. "Oh, princess. When they are done with you, you won't be able to open your legs fast enough. If Arj keeps you, shameless whore will be the nicest term for what you'll become for him. He crumbles the will of women the way I crumble brittle straw between my fingers."
"Death first," I said, flatly.
That elicited a brief chuckle "The moon god rejects suicides, doesn't he?"
"Any death with honor is acceptable to the moon, ignorant dog, and I shall die nobly, reciting prayers."
"Well, you know your superstitions better than I ever will. The moon is a chunk of rock in a fixed orbit and I assure you it is uninterested in your death. Die praying if you like; your brother will not have that option."
And my stomach sank within me and my blood was ice. Only one of my brothers had been still unaccounted to me - little Telano, of the tender age of ten. As a latecomer to the family, he had been much loved by my parents, enough to provoke some jealousy when I was younger, but I dearly loved him now, and he was respectful and kind to his sisters. But he had ever been one for neglecting his weapons studies, even as war had closed in, and he had probably been captured unarmed and with no chance to offer his soul to the moon.
"My brothers all died nobly, defending my mother," I said.
"Sorry, princess, at least one of them lived and was dragged here a little before you. And if you misbehave in any way, they may let you see him, on, say, the third day of torment. They are still sane, so early in the process, you know, but usually incapable of much speech..."
"Lord Tir, please, stop," whispered the woman. "Not even a daughter of dogs deserves such talk. You make me shake."
"He need not stop, since it is only meaningless lies he speaks," I said, and I spit at his feet. Which was a sin, for to spit at a lie you must know it to be a lie; but he would not know that. Forgive me, moon, for this unseemliness.
His hand lifted, and from the way he towered over me and from the span of his chest, I knew a blow from him would have sent me sailing across the room, but I lifted my face and waited calmly. He was 190 centimeters at the least, and the muscle of his upper arm made my calves look like twigs. But it would only be bruises, and I would not show fear.
His eyes smoldered in fury, but he dropped his hand again. "It won't be me that marks your skin before Prince Arj has his look at you. Afterwards, if he rejects you, I will teach you the consequence of spitting at a Lord of Narsana. It will be a long lesson. And if by chance he takes a fancy to you, well, what happens then will satisfy my desire for retribution."
"So the Lords of Narsana spend their days planning retributions against women? It is a marvel a people so weak got as far as my capital."
His smile was evil and mirthless. "I don't doubt our customs regarding the treatment of women will seem barbaric to you. And you will find it very strange that those same customs will make you burn to please men in ways you never imagined."
I spat again, and this time sinlessly.
He turned to the two men. "Toy with the slave girl," he snapped. "And you, former princess-" his hand was again in my hair and I was suddenly out of the tub and on my knees, facing the slave, "-will watch, eyes open. You'll learn about your new role in this country."
The slave gasped as she was forced onto her back by the two men, and then they knelt on her limbs, pinning her, legs apart, arms over her head. She was not much older than me, and attractive, and the men were grimly pleased by their orders. I thought, secretly, that the slave girl would be as well, since her slutty behavior had been so public before. But there was fear in her eyes as she looked up at Lord Tir; fear and pleading. What response that got her, I could not see; he again held me tight by the hair and I could not turn my head at all.
I closed my eyes, and immediately the slave girl gasped. "Princess, no. Obey him. The more disobedient you are, the worse it goes for me."
As if I cared? I closed my eyes tighter.
"I beg of you- oh! Oh please no!"
I did not know what had happened, but the next sound was unmistakable. She was slapped. It was a thing that happened often to slaves in any country, and a familiar enough sound; I'd slapped my own slave any number of times when her attention wandered. But here instead of the short gasp I expected in reply, there was a soft moan, and then panting. I had heard such panting among my father's concubines, but they had been in secluded, private places (and not easy for even a curious sixteen year old girl to get to.) To sound so wanton in public...
Another slap, and she whimpered in clear and deep arousal.
"What are you?" A man snapped at her.
"A slave," she whispered.
"What is the work of a slave?"
"To be pleasing."
"What pleases men most?"
"The use of a woman's body," she said, in a strangely little-girl voice. And then: "Princess, have mercy. They will rape me to death if you don't obey. You have no love for me, fair enough, but I am a good slave."
I was not surprised that ancient formula was in use here - I think it is universal in all the worlds. A slave's life is hard and they are prone to being used as pawns in the schemes of their betters, but in most civilized places they can still lay claim to justice if they have served well. The rules are simple: if a slave is abused beyond her station, she can state "I am a good slave." She then submits to whatever is asked of her, but afterwards her acts of service are judged by someone independent of her master. If her service has been loyal and without real fault, she can be removed from her master and resold, or even set free. But if her service is judged wanting, she may be put to death. Of course, the slave's hope is often in neither of these outcomes, but that the Master will reconsider whatever abuse he is meting out, rather than risk losing his property. It is a dangerous card to play, but it is generally the only one the slave has.
What was surprising was that she'd address her plea to me. I certainly did not own her, and I had no say in what happened here. And I was not likely to be merciful, not to anyone here.
"Make that plea to your owner. What happens to you is all one to me."
She whimpered for a few moments, and then moaned, low and deep. She was slapped again, and her breathing became a frantic pant.
"No," she moaned. "Not... no, please..."
I suddenly realized I was burning with curiosity, and I was horrified at myself. It did not help that Lord Tir, behind me, had my head pulled tight against him, and his erection was throbbing at the back of my neck. (Yes, I know about men and erections; I'm not completely ignorant. But I've never seen one up close or felt one pressed against me, and I found it deeply disturbing that men had this very obviously intense physical symptom just from looking at... whatever was happening.)
"Please, no... I can't hold still from... no, please. Don't slap me again, I'll be good, I'll be so good... I'll... I'll be whatever you want..." She whispered, huskily.
So shameful -- but my body blazed with curiosity, and with... more. Even in my country, slaves (of both sexes) were sometimes sexual playthings, and I knew, though I had never witnessed it, that some were trained to be especially satisfying, whatever that means. The very best became concubines, scarcely slaves at all, expected to please a man whenever and however he wished, but also taken care of and protected...
My eyes slitted open. A royal princess to forswear the touch of men until of age, but in truth my sister had been less than careful about that rule; she'd been enthusiastic about being careless with it. And she mocked me for being so cold, as she called it, so dedicated to the moon in the sky while for missing pleasure here on earth. Some nights I had heard her moaning like an animal in delight, and though I told her it sickened me (and sometimes it had), at other times I'd burned with curiosity and a nameless, wicked longing. I felt it again now, a thousandfold more intense now that it was not my sister. I shivered -- and opened my eyes wider.
The slave was caught between the two men. They were kneeling, facing each other, and her back was to the chest of one while her widespread legs embraced the other. The one behind her had her breasts in his large hands, and his fingertips ruthlessly worked her nipples. His lips were against her ear, and whatever he was whispering was unseating the slave's reason. The other man had his erection in his hand, and was rubbing the tip of it, up and down, slowly, against the woman's just parted flower. It was obvious she was not permitted to move, but the twitching of her hips and thighs told me she was finding movement very hard to resist. I have run a finger along that place -- moon, forgive me -- and I knew how intense the sensations became, and how it became harder and harder to stop. She had no way to stop it, and from the look of her misery it was obvious she'd been forbidden to take the pleasure from it that I knew existed, but have never experienced.
Her hips bucked suddenly -- she'd tried to impale herself on that impossibly ugly, impossibly fascinating shaft. She was instantly slapped, across the face and breast. The slap only aroused her further; her whole body was shuddering.
Such a shaft was right behind me, hard and shifting against my neck. For the first time I realized what my situation really was -- I was lovely, helpless, and in a land where men used women for amusement and pleasure and without a single thought for the woman. If the Prince of this land had not called for me, I'd likely have been treated like this slave, and even now be feeling-
I shied away from that thought. I must be strong.
Suddenly the man in front of me pushed the head of his shaft into the hapless slave, and just as quickly pulled it out again. He snarled, softly; but tears trickled from her eyes and she cried out in need. I have never seen nipples so hard, lips so wet, and as for the clearly visible pistil of her flower, throbbing among her petals...
Lord Tir murmured down to me, "You are looking at your future."
I said nothing.
The slave girl sobbed softly as the man in front of her pushed his shaft into her, slowly and firmly, and once it was buried in her, he began to roughly massage her flower, and then to quickly pinch and tug-
She writhed, and her legs stroked his back, trying to urge him to move more, to repeatedly thrust inside her. Instead, the man behind her shifted, lowered her to the ground, took out his own shaft and forced it between her lips-
I didn't know a woman could be reduced to such helpless begging. It was impossible to look away; her desire was compelling and hypnotic. She needed them to take, she needed to give, and above all she needed the release of her pent up and agonizingly frustrated hunger. There was no shame in her at all, it didn't matter how many people saw her; there was only an animal lust. Once, just once, I stroked myself until the pleasure was maddening, then literally painful. She was far past that, but she only wanted more. I realized for the first time what a man can do to a woman, and I flushed hot to my toes because I could understand, to my horror, how a woman could want this.
I closed my eyes again, in shame for the way my body -- my naked body -- was reacting to what I had seen. And then I felt a deeper shame -- I realized I'd been lightly rubbing my head against Lord Tir's shaft, completely unaware of it-
Sobbing, I whispered "Stop, take me away from this."
The scene with the slave shifted again; the man buried inside her had reached the limit of his self-control, and he slid over her and just pounded her flesh.. She shrieked, thrashing, and the other man held her wrists over her head and against the floor. She was completely helpless.
I was shaking now, and I have never burned to be touched by a man the way I did now. It was something like jealousy -- this slave, this dog, was experiencing something I could not even imagine-
Moon, forgive me! I was forced to feel this hunger, deliver me from these barbarians!
Lord Tir spoke -- to another slave. "You. Girl. Stop staring and get the combs and makeup. This captured morsel at my feet has to be made up for her appointment, and time is wasting."
The girl ran on swift, bare feet to fetch a box, and then nearly skidded to a stop in front of me. "Please, daughter of rajas, I must do this and would rather not suffer the humiliations of Glana, the slave behind me. Let me make you up without a fuss, you must look good or you and others will suffer."
