Bridled Lust Read online

  ‘You have no need of your swords here, sir,’ she said calmly. ‘We are but two females and we carry no arms. We are honest farming people.’

  ‘And damned ugly with it!’ Borthos bellowed. It was a claim quite far from the truth, for although both sisters were stocky, their faces were comely enough beneath the field dust that coated them. Borthos leaned forward and waved his sword at Millaris.

  ‘Take your clothes off, pig girl,’ he hissed. ‘Let’s see what weapons those peasant rags are concealing.’

  Millaris regarded him indignantly. ‘I have already told you, sir,’ she protested, ‘we have no weapons.’

  ‘And I told you to take your clothes off!’ Borthos snapped. ‘So get them off, or shall I cut off your sow of a sister’s ears for her?’

  Corinna was faring much better than Dorothea. True to his word, Halit had arranged for her to be part of the reserve section of pony women and, after the first hour, had come in person, detached her from her coffle and led her back to one of the larger wagons, lifting her over the tailboard and climbing in beside her. Up front, the driver who had paused just long enough for them to embark on his vehicle, whipped up the two horses and they creaked forward once more.

  ‘This is much better, isn’t it, Flix?’ Halit grinned, reaching up to remove her bit. She swallowed, licked her lips gratefully and nodded. It was hot in the wagon beneath the heavy canvas, but at least she was out of the dust and the sun, when and if it reappeared from behind the cloud cover.

  ‘Yes, master,’ she said softly. ‘This is definitely much better.’ She looked around and saw that the rear half of the wagon comprised of just a pile of fleeces, the front having been stacked with crates and small barrels. Halit noted her interest and explained.

  ‘I managed to rearrange the loads,’ he said. ‘A company this size consumes much in even one night and so we now have space among the transports. It was a simple matter to organise so that there was sufficient space in this one wagon for our comfort.’

  ‘Simple only for one with the brains to think of it, master,’ Corinna replied, and was rewarded with a smile of smug satisfaction from him. Men, she thought, so predictable and so easily led by their egos. But she was grateful for the respite, happy that she would not have to walk for miles in the awful hoof boots, not have to spend hours chewing on her bit gag, stumbling along in the middle of a line of fellow sufferers, helpless to ward off the tiny flying mites that sought out their bare flesh.

  The price for such relief was not so great either, she concluded. She looked at Halit and smiled encouragingly. Why not, she thought? Did not the men of this world think it normal enough to pass from one female to another without so much as a fleeting thought of guilt? Indeed they did and so why should not she, especially as she was no longer free to control her own fate? It was not Corinna who would shortly spread her legs and receive his throbbing pole within her, but Flix the pony girl slave - poor helpless Flix with her bare, bouncing breasts that had earned her that name and her poor body bound and unable to resist the demands of this, her latest master.

  She smiled again and lay back, parting her thighs and lifting herself to one side, so that Halit could begin to remove the leather triangle that was the one obstacle between his lust and hers...

  The fire was lit and a basic meal cooked without incident. Opal insisted that she maintain her watch while the others ate, and then Demila was sent up to relieve her while the Valkyr girl took her turn with the meat and grain mixture. The other girls, having each had one hand released and their hoods removed in order to feed, were then re-secured and instructed to rest again, but the dark girl, Ganda, looked pointedly towards the water pool.

  ‘May I swim, master?’ she asked.

  Pecon shrugged. ‘Why not?’ he replied. ‘I think you know better than to try to run off,’ he added, unlocking her wrists again. The girl nodded and smiled a brilliant smile at him.

  ‘I wish only to be clean and smell good again, master,’ she said brightly. ‘I may be a slave now, but once I was free and being clean was considered a girl’s duty where I come from.’ Pecon snorted and looked past her to the remaining slaves.

  ‘Fill all the canteens first,’ he ordered her, ‘and then I think you can all bathe in turn. Another sluice down before we start off again tonight would also be a good idea. In this heat bodies sweat most awfully, even in sleep.’ Ganda giggled and skipped away to the wagon to check the water skins. Opal, who had been listening to this exchange, rose from the fireside and sauntered across to Pecon’s side.

  ‘Tell me,’ she asked quietly, ‘does it not trouble your conscience that you buy and sell these unfortunates like so much farm stock?’ Pecon looked at her, their eyes meeting on the same level.

  ‘I try not to let my conscience run my business,’ he retorted. ‘I am simply a trader, like so many other traders, probably a little better than most, but hopefully no worse. When a slave is with me I treat them fairly and as well as the situation permits.’

  ‘And when they’re sold on?’ Opal demanded. ‘What if you sell them to a cruel master who whips them daily for his own pleasure, abuses them in every way and maybe then even kills them? Is that not something to make you reconsider?’

  ‘It is rare indeed for any master to kill a slave without just cause,’ Pecon responded. ‘After all, a slave represents an investment and few men will destroy an investment.’

  ‘Pah!’ Opal spat. ‘That’s all these poor girls are to you, isn’t it? Your precious investment and maybe a temporary bed warmer until you pass them on to realise your profit. Even that poor little thing,’ she said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the hillock upon which Demila still kept her dutiful lookout, ‘even she will end up with some fat old lecher, even though it is plain for anyone to see that she worships you.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Pecon replied slowly, ‘and then again, maybe not. It pleases me to keep her now and it will probably please me to keep her for some good time yet, circumstances permitting.’

  ‘Circumstances permitting,’ Opal mimicked. ‘Yes, I can see that. Tell me, master trader, is there no thought of a thing known as love in that iron heart of yours?’ Pecon smiled crookedly and shrugged his broad shoulders.

  ‘The thought, maybe,’ he replied. ‘But maybe the thought is now only a memory - and maybe a sour memory at that.’

  Jorkan reined his horse in beneath the overhanging trees and pointed down the slope. Behind him, Paulis advanced to his side and peered in the direction indicated.

  ‘A farmstead, uncle?’ the younger man said. ‘And well out of the usual way, too.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jorkan said, ‘well out of the usual way. Not much of a place from the looks of things. I suspect their water supplies must be limited. They only have a small area cultivated, though I think those are sheep way over beyond there.’

  ‘Not likely to be many men folk on a place this size, then?’ Paulis grinned.

  Jorkan grunted. ‘Not likely, no,’ he agreed, ‘but we take no chances. See there? That’s an old dry gully. If we go back and around behind this rise we can approach that way, on foot, without the horses for the moment. If they smell water they tend to start whinnying and we don’t want anyone to know we’re about just yet, not until we see exactly who and what is down there.’

  ‘A good idea, uncle,’ Paulis nodded. He pulled his mount’s head around and began to move back the way they had just come. Jorkan watched his nephew ride on for a few moments and then sighed.

  ‘Yes,’ he said under his breath, ‘yes, I do know it’s a good idea, lad. That’s why I suggested it in the first place.’

  Beneath the simple skirt and blouse Millaris had worn nothing, and now she stood naked before the two men, displaying a sturdy body and breasts that, whilst proportionally heavy, stood proudly with the firmness of youth. Between the tops of her thighs her dark pubic bush had been neatly trimmed, and she returned th
e stares of the two men with the confidence of one who knows she has nothing of which to be ashamed.

  She knew their intentions, that the virginity she had so carefully cherished for so long would soon be snatched away, and yet she felt completely calm, sure also that they would then kill her and that there would be no enduring shame with which she must live thereafter. She prayed only that they would grant her a swift death.

  ‘Not so bad after all,’ Borthos grunted, and Harkan nodded his approval.

  ‘Indeed not,’ he said, ‘and this one is mine, if you remember what you said earlier?’ Borthos sniggered and looked towards Taralin.

  ‘No reason why we should have just the one each,’ he said. ‘We are comrades in arms after all, my friend, and what we have we share equally. You!’ He stabbed his sword towards Taralin, who recoiled instinctively. ‘Get them off, you ignorant bumpkin, and let’s see if your tits match your sister’s, shall we?’

  Beneath her rough and shapeless clothes, Taralin’s body was indeed as firm as her sister’s and similarly proportioned, save that her breasts were larger still. The two soldiers regarded them with undisguised approval.

  ‘Shame they’ll probably end up round her knees eventually,’ Harkan commented. ‘But the future is no concern of ours, eh my friend? We are true fighting men and we live for the day and damn the morrow.’

  ‘Well, today my pole fancies a quick greasing in a couple of warm country tubs,’ Borthos cackled. ‘As for the morrow, well like you say my friend, damn it anyway.’ He carefully sheathed his sword and swung himself out of the saddle, swaggering towards the two naked girls and rubbing his groin through his breeches.

  ‘So,’ he said to Taralin, ‘you heard what my good friend said. He has your sister first and I get you, big tits.’

  ‘Wait,’ Harkan called down. ‘Not so hasty, Borthos. We have most of the day and no one else will come this way. Let’s have ourselves a little fun and teach these silly yokels a trick or two, shall we? I think our Taralin will be only too willing to oblige with any request we might make, especially as we have her sister here to give her some encouragement!’

  ‘Your new role suits you, pony whore!’ At the sound of Fulgrim’s voice Dorothea raised her eyes, but she did not dare falter in her step. He had brought his horse alongside her and now he matched her progress as she trudged forward in the midst of the line of small carts.

  ‘No one would ever believe you were once a fine lady, with all the airs and graces, eh?’ He turned to the young Vorsan officer who had moved up next to him and chuckled. ‘That’s the ruling house of Illeum there, lad,’ he said. ‘That’s all we’re really up against on this campaign. Reckon that’ll give us any real trouble?’

  ‘The Vorsan army is the finest in the entire world, my lord,’ the young man replied, stiffly. ‘Illeum has grown soft over the years. Perhaps it would not have been so had you given more work like this to them.’ Fulgrim nodded and guffawed at the joke.

  ‘Indeed, Mardoc,’ he said. ‘Maybe you have something at that. Perhaps we should have Lundt and all his relatives in harness eventually. Tell me, what do you make of this mare?’

  ‘A good strong body, it would seem,’ Mardoc said. ‘Good breasts, too, especially as she’s no young girl, from what I can see beneath all the dust.’

  ‘No, she’s no filly, that’s for sure,’ Lundt said. ‘Though she likes the young fillies herself, did you know that? Sadly, you missed last evening’s diversions, or you would have seen that ably demonstrated, but we’re retraining her to the cock now.’

  ‘Sadly indeed, sir,’ Mardoc said, ‘but it was my duty with the picket lines and duty must come first, must it not?’

  ‘Said like a true soldier,’ Fulgrim retorted. ‘Your father is Gurdon Mardoc, is he not?’ he added.

  The young officer nodded. ‘Yes, my lord. He served with you in Mesarium a few years ago and is one of your greatest and most loyal admirers.’

  ‘A fine soldier and a good man,’ Fulgrim said. ‘A great pity that time has not been so kind to him of late. Tell me, was he any better when last you saw him?’

  ‘As well as could be expected, my lord. The gout still gives him trouble and his back will never be what it once was, but he complains very little.’

  ‘And you?’ Fulgrim asked. ‘I hear good things of you from Captain Ingrim.’

  ‘I am grateful the captain thinks so highly of me, my lord.’ Mardoc smiled and waited for Fulgrim to continue. Dorothea plodded on, blinking her eyes against the clouds of dust that were drifting slowly along the line of march.

  ‘I have a new duty for you,’ Fulgrim told Mardoc at length, ‘if you choose to accept it, of course.’

  Mardoc hid a grimace, for he knew there would be no choice involved in anything concerned with Fulgrim. ‘I am yours to command, my lord,’ he replied, simply, ‘and honoured to discharge any duties you think me worthy of.’

  ‘Good lad,’ Fulgrim said. ‘You will go far, I think, farther even than your father. He would have enjoyed this little expedition, I know, and now it is your duty to uphold the traditions he so devoted himself to. Beginning with this creature,’ he added, jabbing a gloved finger down at Dorothea.

  ‘Whatever you wish,’ Mardoc said. ‘You wish me to execute her, perhaps?’

  ‘Execute her?’ Fulgrim rose up in his saddle and laughed out loud. ‘Oh no, not execute her, not this one. She has many years left in her yet and I want that she should appreciate every one of them fully, if you understand my meaning?’

  ‘Yes, I think I do, sir,’ Mardoc said, smirking.

  ‘Good,’ Fulgrim said, sitting back again. He looked up at the sun. ‘They’ll be changing a few of these pony whores around shortly,’ he continued. ‘Find one of the grooms and make sure they replace this one and then I want you to take her, with a detail of four men, and give her a sound whipping. I suggest two dozen strokes.’

  ‘As you command, my lord, so I shall see it is done.’

  ‘And then, when she’s finished dancing for you,’ Fulgrim smirked, ‘give her a sound fucking, all five of you. You’ll probably have to sling her over a pack mule afterwards, but no matter. You handle a whip well, do you?’

  ‘Well enough, I think,’ Mardoc replied, and again Fulgrim nodded.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I don’t want her flesh ripped, you see, just nicely patterned. Cuts are not good in this climate - they become poisoned too easily and we don’t want the whore to die, do we?’

  Demila raised herself up onto her knees, lifted Pecon’s erect member and carefully positioned it in the entrance of her sex. Beneath her he lay flat on his back, eyes closed, his hands resting lightly on her thighs. Demila moved the head of his shaft gently, moistening it with her warm juices and he gave a small moan of pleasure.

  ‘Does that please you, my master?’ she whispered, leaning over him so that her face was only inches from his. He moaned again and nodded.

  ‘Yes, my little petal,’ he murmured, ‘that pleases me very much.’ He opened one eye and looked up at her, seemingly surprised to find her lips so close to his own. ‘And does it please you?’ he asked quietly. Demila smiled, nodding, and then reached even further forward and brushed him with a light kiss. Then, with a sigh, she lowered herself completely onto him, quivering as he filled her.

  ‘There,’ she said, ‘now I am happy.’

  ‘Completely happy?’ Pecon said. She smiled again and raised her hands to her shining pate.

  ‘Except perhaps for this, master,’ she replied. ‘The ointment that bitch Bextra used is stopping my hair from growing back again and I fear I shall always be too ugly for you if I remain like this forever.’

  ‘It won’t be forever,’ he assured her, thrusting gently upwards. ‘The effect of the ointment will wear off soon and you shall have hair again, if hair you want.’

  ‘I want only what my master wants,’ D
emila replied quickly. ‘If you prefer your slave without hair, then your slave will learn to love that as she loves you.’

  ‘Ah, love!’ Pecon exclaimed. He moved his hands upwards and circled her trim waist, lifting her slightly and then drawing her down onto him again. ‘You speak of love to one who prefers to remember nothing of it.’

  ‘Then perhaps I may stir your memory,’ she ventured, clenching her internal muscles with a surprising savagery that drew a sharp gasp from him. ‘Perhaps, as your slave, I presume too much, master, but I will show you true love.’

  ‘And what if I cannot find such love within me?’

  ‘Then I shall still love you, though I would rather die than leave you and if you do sell me to another, I swear I shall kill myself at the first chance.’ She rose and fell again, driving herself hard onto his erection, her fingers now clawing against his naked chest. Pecon’s hands moved further upwards still, cupping her breasts and squeezing them.

  ‘I believe you would, too,’ he breathed. ‘By the heavens, I believe you really would.’

  In another wagon, further to the column’s rear, Captain Niti Ingrim of the Vorsan Trachos Guard had made himself a cosy nest not unlike the one Halit had contrived for himself and Corinna, but instead of any of the spare pony women, Ingrim had furnished himself with two of Dorothea’s former maids, a pair of sylphlike nymphet’s with urchin cropped fair hair and saucer-like blue eyes, a present to him from Fulgrim himself, as reward for Ingrim’s part in the capture of Castle Varragol.

  He quickly discovered, without surprise, that neither girl had ever know a man before, having been trained specifically for Dorothea’s sapphic requirements and not even permitted to indulge themselves with the effeminate pages. This pleased Ingrim greatly, especially when he found that his two new slaves were so ingrained to serve anyone in authority that they quickly seemed to forget their former mistress and vied with each other to please their new master.