The Bridle Path Page 4

  Wrapping the coins carefully in the chamois, he slipped them back inside the pouch that usually hung from his belt and, with a grunt, rose on stiffening legs, turning to where the girl sat with her back to the wagon wheel to which he had tethered her.

  Sightless within the slave hood she had worn without a break for the past two days, she started at his approach, her breathing quickening as he knelt beside her to unlock the chain that ran from her collar to one of the stout spokes.

  'Come to the fire,' he said, tugging on the short leash. 'You are cold.' He should, he realised, have given her a fur, or brought her to the warmth of the fire earlier. Naked, but for her slave belt and the halter that supported and lifted her breasts, the damp night air had brought her shivering flesh up in tiny bumps, though she had not dared to complain.

  Sitting her down by the fireside, Pecon quickly unbuckled the blindfold section of her hood, revealing her dark eyes in the flickering light. Wordlessly, she stared up at him, her uncertainty reflected in the twin dark pools.

  'Can you cook?' he demanded gruffly. Uncertainly, Demila nodded. Pecon pointed to the wagon. 'When you have warmed yourself,' he said, 'you will find salted meat and some vegetables in a sack. There are pots, too. Prepare us both a meal and bring the ale jug, also.' He took up the bow and quiver he had lain aside earlier.

  'With luck,' he said, straightening up, 'I shall find us a fat rabbit for the pot, too.' He stared down at her. 'I shall not be gone long, so I suggest that if you have any ideas of escaping you forget them. I found you once and I shall find you just as easily again, especially now your ankles are hobbled.'

  'Yes, master,' Demila whispered. 'I shall be here and the food will be ready, as you order.'

  'Good.' Pecon stood for a moment or two, studying her in silence. 'Have some of the ale yourself,' he instructed at last. 'It will help keep out the night air.'

  'Thank you, master,' she replied meekly, lowering her eyes.

  'And wash yourself whilst I am gone,' he said. 'I don't want the trail dust in my bed this night, nor the smells of the day on you. You will find some spiced water in the wagon. Douche yourself well with it and make sure you don't miss anything. You may be a whore slave, but you don't have to stink like a midden.'

  'I see our little friend is quite perky this morning, my lord,' Agana laughed, flicking at Fulgrim's upright member with the short switch she habitually carried. Fulgrim, lashed face up over the heavy sawhorse style frame, grimaced, but said nothing. The young page who stood between his splayed thighs flinched in sympathy, but did not break his rhythm, for he was close to what he considered a climax now. The irony of this was not lost on Agana.

  'A pity that our other young friend here hasn't the balls for the job either,' she sneered, 'but then I'm told that at least two of the new guard relief might not be averse to making use of your services.'

  'Bitch!' Fulgrim hissed through clenched teeth, trying desperately to will his rampant rod into submission, hating the way in which it now responded of its own will to even the most hideous of the humiliations this awesome woman subjected him to. 'May your soul rot in the lowest of the seven halls of hell,' he wheezed, straining against the bonds that held him, even though he knew it was a futile waste of his strength.

  'If my soul goes to the seventh hall,' Agana laughed, flicking at the head of his bulbous erection once again, 'then surely we have been told false, for there must be an eighth for such souls as yours!' She tapped the page smartly across his naked shoulder.

  'Come, Pester!' she urged. 'Finish yourself in the noble lord's hole and stop making such a pig's meal out of the thing. Imagine you're rodding your beloved little Moxie and that he has teats to compare with hers, though I should not let her ladyship become a party to such thoughts, let alone the making of them into actions. The thought of any male despoiling her beloved bitch maid would be more than enough to have her order the skin stripped from your back!'

  With a final tremor the page finished and withdrew, panting heavily, and Agana lost no time in moving to the next stage of Fulgrim's ordeal. Expertly, she released him from the trestle without ever leaving him the full use of his arms and legs, ensuring that, even if he did presume to test what remained of his strength against her awesome muscles, there would only ever be one outcome.

  Very soon, wrists strapped behind his back, he knelt in the centre of the stone floor, as the first maid stripped off her flimsy shift and stepped towards him.

  The hapless noble knew only too well what was expected of him, as he knew the punishment for failing to comply. Wearily, he lifted his face and the lithe girl moved her feet apart, thrusting her crotch to his face. Fulgrim opened his mouth, tasting her sweet musk as her lips met his, probing inside them with his tongue, eager to bring her to a peak as rapidly as possible and earn the eventual respite that would come only when he had settled all of Agana's daily choice.

  The first maid, young even by the youthful standards of Dorothea's household 'pets', was evidently also very inexperienced, though nonetheless willing for that fact, and quickly peaked, her slender fingers gripping Fulgrim's shining pate as support for her buckling knees. She was quickly replaced by the second page, already erect from the ministrations of the older maid, and Fulgrim gagged as the lad's thick shaft was forced between his lips.

  Fighting against his immediate urge to snap his jaws shut about the vulnerable flesh - Agana had made it very clear what he could expect if ever he assuaged such a reaction - Fulgrim closed his eyes and tried to shut out what was happening. At least, he thought sourly, these lads were no more capable of an ejaculation than he was himself, but the degradation he suffered was in no way lessened by this fact.

  The second page was finished far quicker than his fellow earlier, but now came Agana's final enactment. Exhausted and shamed, Fulgrim continued to make no resistance as she thrust him up against the square timber frame that filled one end of the narrow chamber, securing his ankles to the struts, so that he was forced to stand with his legs spread uncomfortably wide. Only when she had immobilised his lower limbs did she release his wrists and strap them high above his head.

  'Now, my lord,' she rasped, holding up the peculiar shaped gag for him to see, 'let us arrange a little dance, shall we?' She prised Fulgrim's jaws apart and thrust one end of the stubby phallus between them, buckling the strap tightly about his head to prevent him ejecting it. The shorter end filled his mouth completely, while the longer end projected crudely from his face. Agana turned to the second maid, who had removed her shift, though with obvious reluctance.

  'You will keep your hands by your sides, slut,' she instructed. 'If you move them I shall double your punishment, understood?' The girl nodded. Agana gave her a critical look, particularly her small, pert breasts.

  'Not much of a cushion to put between you,' she remarked acidly, 'but then you can't all hope to compete with Moxie, can you?' She tucked the switch into her belt, grasped the girl beneath her armpits and lifted her bodily, swinging her towards Fulgrim. The maid, knowing what was expected of her, obediently opened her legs as Agana positioned her gaping sex above Fulgrim's still erect organ.

  Slowly, Agana lowered the hapless girl, turning to nod at the first maid, who quickly stepped forward to guide the waiting shaft into the yawning warmth. The descending girl groaned as she was penetrated, for despite his lack of testicles, Fulgrim was well made in what remained of his manhood, and a small cry of surprise tore from the back of her throat as his full length was sheathed within her.

  Now, leaning forward, she opened her mouth, taking the free end of the penis gag deep into her throat, closing her teeth about it, for this was now her only means of steadying herself, her feet remaining an inch or so clear of the floor.

  'And so,' Agana said, turning away to select a long crop from the rack at her side, 'we shall begin our little mating dance.' She flexed the braided whip once, flicked it twice through the air between them and then, with no further ceremony, brought it around in a hissing arc,
a vivid line springing across the hanging maid's defenceless buttocks to the accompaniment of a sharp report.

  The youthful body jerked and bucked, a whimper forcing its way past the gag to which the girl clung and, at the same time, a muffled grunt came from Fulgrim.

  'She is to receive twenty more, my lord,' Agana chuckled, pleased at the initial results of her ingenuity. 'Twenty more, at half minute intervals. I doubt she'll come as happily as these others, but I venture she'll come nonetheless, and she'll stay there till she does, or take another dozen. You, on the other hand, dare not lose the firmness upon which she now rides, for if her feet once touch the floor, then you will spend the next day hanging by your toes from the ramparts above.'

  The crop whistled through the air once more and again the girl jumped, her eyes screwing tightly closed as she ground her teeth into the hard leather phallus. Behind Agana the second maid stood transfixed, one hand between her thighs, a single finger toying with the swollen clitoris that had forced its way between her outer lips, but she seemed unconscious of the fact that her companions could see exactly what she was doing. Agana, however, missed nothing.

  'Get your hands away from yourself!' she snapped. 'Put them to some better use. You two!' she ordered, turning to the pages. The youths, startled, were not slow to understand and sprang forward to stand, one on either side of the miscreant.

  'On your knees, slut,' Agana commanded. 'And keep them both nice and hard until I am finished with this whore!'

  The girl dropped to her knees, her hands reaching to take the semi-flaccid organs of the two pages. Immediately, the one on the left began to swell and stiffen, though the other was slower to respond. Eventually, however, the girl had them both at attention and Agana, grinning evilly, turned back to her main task.

  The vicious leather scythed the air again, a third welt appearing in the space between the first two. This time only a hiss of escaping breath came from the girl, but the violent bucking brought a tortured cry from behind Fulgrim's half of the gag. Agana stepped away again.

  'A pretty dance,' she murmured. 'Perhaps next time I should bring some musicians down here to provide a soothing accompaniment, eh?'

  'Your hair!' Savatch stood in the doorway of Corinna's bedchamber, his mouth open wide with astonishment. Naked, save for the scrap of silk that was wound about her hips, Corinna smiled back at him, eyes twinkling.

  'You like it, my lord and master?' she asked. Savatch took a step forward, shaking his head, for with her blonde tresses died a dark brown, Corinna was almost unrecognisable.

  'But why?' he demanded. Corinna's smile grew mysterious and she nodded towards the chest that stood at the foot of the bed. Savatch's eyes followed her direction and for a few moments he stood mystified. Then, as he recognised the box for what it was, the light of realisation began to dawn in his eyes.

  'Ah,' he said slowly. 'I think I begin to understand. The little trip away of which you spoke last evening, eh?' Corinna nodded. 'A trip that maybe could have an element of discomfort?' Again the nod. Savatch moved further into the room and stood, one foot raised up and resting on the corner of the trunk.

  'One master and slave among many,' he said thoughtfully. 'One poor, dark-haired wench in bondage, rather than a golden-haired princess in her tower, eh? But why not a golden-haired slave?'

  'Too many eyes, my lord,' Corinna replied simply. 'Too many eyes.'

  'And what of the ears?'

  'Ears hear what they hear,' Corinna said. 'I shall simply tell my maids that we wish to spend a few days in our own company and that we shall leave by night in order to attract less attention. A mild sleeping draught in their evening wine will assure that they do not stir to be witnesses, and the guards on the gate will not challenge their captain, surely?'

  'But they will surely wonder at the sudden appearance of a slave girl,' Savatch pointed out.

  Corinna grinned, impishly, her green eyes flashing. 'Who says her appearance will be sudden?' She turned, gliding across the floor to stand immediately in front of him, reaching up to encircle his neck, pressing her full breasts, with their heavily ringed nipples, against his chest.

  'The Lady Corinna has negotiated the purchase of a girl slave from the village of Slacht, beyond the garrison town. I have dispatched Commander Pohl to collect the wench and I shall give my ladies orders that she is to be kept in these chambers during our absence. Only the gate men will see "her" departure with you and they will also assume that I am inside the wagon, asleep after a trying day at my duties.'

  'And what is to become of this slave wench when I take her from here?' Savatch asked, his own eyes now reflecting amusement.

  Corinna shrugged. 'That would be for her master to decide,' she said. 'After all, a slave can have no will of her own, surely?'

  'Not even the most wilful slave,' Savatch agreed.

  Melina's initial horror and fear had long since given way to near total exhaustion and a feeling of desperation that this journey would never end. The band of men, drinking as they rode, seemed oblivious to the plight of their captive, staggering along in the wake of the last horseman, the leash from her bound wrists tied to the pommel of his saddle threatening to drag her through the knee-deep snow if she failed to keep her feet.

  It had been like this for more than two days now, ever since the raiding party had descended upon her uncle's remote farmstead. Her uncle, his three sons, his wife and her elder sister, had all been slaughtered amidst the burning buildings, horribly butchered as they tried to flee. Melina had initially hidden in a ditch, soaked and mud covered, emerging only when she thought the murderous bandits had gone. But two of the men had remained behind, perhaps suspecting that there were survivors still in hiding, and had ridden her down as she ran across the grain fields.

  She had cowered between their horses, covering her head, waiting for their swords to dispatch her as they had dispatched the rest of the family, but instead of killing her, they dismounted, stripped her and took her in turn, twice each. The two fur-clad, blond-haired ruffians then tied her wrists and taunted her, using their short whips, cracking them about her ankles to make her dance.

  At last, tiring of the game, the elder of the two had taken a leather hood from his saddlebag and drawn it over her head, leaving only two narrow slits through which she could see. The hood was attached to a stiff leather collar and there was a lock to secure this about her neck. Melina understood the significance of this immediately, for she had seen women in such hoods brought to the marketplace in the nearest town.

  Death was not to be her fate, at least not immediately. The hood declared otherwise - it declared her now a slave.

  When the two riders had finally caught up with the rest of their band, with Melina slung across the saddle of the younger fellow, their leader, whose name was Mielgaard, removed the hood long enough to examine her features and nodded, apparently satisfied.

  'Nice and young,' he growled, scratching at his tawny beard with dirt encrusted fingernails. 'A wide arse and firm tits. When we finally get around to selling her in the Erisvaal markets, she'll fetch a decent price. Meantime, she'll make a good bed warmer.'

  On that first night, when the men had made camp, Melina found herself being passed around the entire band in turn. Over and over again she was taken and in every conceivable way until finally, as the men began to tire and the drink to take effect, they left her huddled under a fur, only to be kicked rudely awake at dawn.

  One of the men produced a pair of knee length boots for her and another wrapped a short fur cloak about her shoulders, but she realised these were not acts of kindness. As they moved north and east and the snows began, they were simply protecting her as an investment, for dead of the cold she would be worthless to them.

  By the second nightfall, despite the footwear and cloak, Melina was chilled to the bone, for they offered her no other clothing or protection. Her teeth chattered and her hands and buttocks felt numb, so that it was almost a relief when the first brigand threw her dow
n onto his furs and climbed on top of her. At least the action that followed stirred the blood in her veins and his body, though coarse, hairy and foul smelling, was warm against her.

  The younger of her two original captors, whom his fellows called Sprig, had been the last to take advantage of her this night and had allowed her to remain next to him, beneath his thick furs, until it was time to break camp again the following morning. By the pale dawn light, Melina studied his face for the first time and saw that, despite the stubbly beard and thick eyebrows and the skin made dark by the snow glare and the wind, he was, in reality, little more than a boy. A rather large and powerfully built boy, it was true, but a boy nonetheless, and probably younger even than Melina herself.

  As the party prepared to move out, it seemed that Sprig had now appointed himself as Melina's temporary master. He carefully rebound her wrists in front of her, looped the free end of the leash to his saddle and then, after considering for a few moments, opened one of his saddlebags and took out a length of woollen cloth, which he wrapped about her waist to form a skirt. Melina tried to smile her thanks at this perceived kindness, but Sprig ignored her efforts to establish anything more between them.

  'You just fuck extra well tonight,' he snapped. He jabbed a grubby finger against her lips. 'Nice and soft,' he observed. 'You learn to use them well and I maybe ask Mielgaard if I can take you as my share of this expedition. You will look good in my hut, I think. The women of our village will then know that I am a real man.'

  Melina's heart sank. If she had been expected any further consideration from this young monster, his words dashed any such hope, for it was clear he saw her only as some sort of trophy. He would make sure that she did not freeze to death, but that was all. Apart from that, he regarded her merely as something on which to slake his lust.