Chapter 4
At first the guards seemed a little afraid of her. They eyed her suspiciously. Kept casting nervous glances at her slender nakedness, at her shining sapphire eyes, the pale hair, the peachy skin. The women of their country were dark swarthy and well-built, almost masculine in appearance and behaviour, whereas Zacora was so feminine, pliant and passive.
One of the guards, called Wolf by his friends, told her that she seemed to them fairy-like, so fragile in spite of her long athletic limbs, that if they touched her she would break or dissolve like a will o' the wisp.
"Are you sure you're not magic?" he asked her on the first night of their long journey. Zacora saw him looking longingly at the tautness of her pale breasts with the delicately flushed nipple centred so perfectly in each mound.
Zacora was silent, looking at his huge frame lit by the flickering camp fire. The guards had been ordered that they were on no account to unshackle her, and one of them must always accompany her when she went to the bushes to perform natural functions.
"No," she told him, fixing her soft gaze on his raised and parted knees. "I'm not a fairy or a witch or anything magical. In my country all the girls are fair of skin and hair."
Wolf licked his lips. "You must obey me. Do everything I say," he said almost nervously.
"I know." Zacora lowered her eyes as was the custom in the far off land from which she came.
The big man gulped. He wasn't used to women who were passive; who did what they were told. Here, in Vakir, the women were the masters. He gritted his teeth angrily. It was all the fault of that wretched Prince; that weakling.
"I'm going to feel your sex," he said, trying to keep his deep voice steady. "Lie back and keep your legs open."
Zacora saw the other three guards shuffle across from their seating places round the camp fire to look more closely. Wolf's words set up the familiar glow in her belly, the warm softness which she always felt in intimacy. A gentle smile, beckoning and welcoming, hovered around her lips.
"Will you scream?" asked Wolf.
Zacora shook her head. She knew her sex was wet and ready, as it always was at the promise of the touch of a stranger, specially when she was naked and chained.
"Hands above your head," said Wolf. His voice was barely audible, whispering and husky. He watched Zacora's shackled hands, pale and long-fingered, go obediently to a point above her shining head.
The shackles were attached to a long chain which caressed the length of her creamy body. Wolf swayed the loose links over the pouting mounds of her breasts, watching colour suffuse the pale skin. He sat back on his haunches and Zacora could see his male flesh lengthening beneath the square of leather of his loin cloth. She looked away, only to be given sight of three more dark sex swords, swaying and stiffening.
Wolf's dusky middle finger probed between the silver puff of curls on her female mound. "Open your legs wide," he grunted, "as far as chain will allow."
Her ankle manacles were chained, but the chain allowed her to straddle her legs to full stretch. The body chain rubbed across her warm flesh at every breath. It was taut, stretching from her wrist manacles to the chain between her ankles.
Wolf, also breathing hard, moved to her head, carrying a heavy rock. She looked up at him, the deep blue eyes desperate with fear, but he smiled at her, holding up a stout twig. "To peg you to the ground, my beauty."
"But I said I wouldn't scream," she reminded him. In her mind she could feel the brush of his rough finger against the silky curls on her sex.
"Brad, Pike and Kroll are big men," he said with a smile which was part cruel and part apologetic.
"But you are the biggest," sneered Pike, lifting Wolf's loin cloth.
Zacora gasped. A shaft, almost ebony black, gleaming with its skin stretched tight over the bloated contents rose up from a crisply curled groin. She listened to the steady knocking as the big man banged the stick into the spongy woodland ground. The wrist chain was secured to the earth, making her more helpless than ever.
Her breasts pouted upwards, cleaved by the chain between them. With every pound of the rock they seemed to become fuller and tighter. There was more moisture slicking the pink inner folds of her sex.
Another tough twig was pounded in the earth between her straddled legs. She was helpless, just as she had been with the noble. A heat came from nowhere and entered her naked belly, making her melt inside while her clitoris became engorged.
The men, the four men, slid their loin cloths to the side, baring the stiffness of their male weapons. They were lit by the flickering flames of the camp fire, and, silhouetted against their dark bodies, they looked bigger and more menacing than ever.
Chained and staked though she was, Zacora felt a fever of excitement, a forbidden delight at being naked and so open and vulnerable at the men's feet. She gave them a slight smile, curving her soft lips and parting them sweetly.
Wolf frowned. "The woman is a harlot," he said harshly. "She beckons us." He bent down to look at the open moistness of the silver fronded sex lips. "You see!" he said triumphantly. "How her flesh seeps sap, ready for taking!"
"You don't understand!" cried Zacora. "In my country women must smile at men or they are whipped." Unshed tears glazed the lustrous eyes. "Only twice has my body been taken. I could not prevent it, for I was tethered - as now."
Wolf grinned. "In your country, they know how to treat women!" The other men laughed. "Here, we men must suffer all manner of humiliation by women. Only on such a task as this are we able to take advantage and give as good as we get."
The man called Pike had cut several long twigs from a willow and was binding them together.
"Where first?"
Wolf caressed the prone body with his eyes, gazing long and hard between the splayed legs where the skin gleamed silkily and a jutting scarlet bud probed from silver fronds. The breasts were tempting, swollen. The slight swell of the belly sweeping down to the triangle of silver blonde curls tempted him, but then perhaps it would be better to have her pegged face down, to thrash her buttocks. He nodded to himself, making the decision.
"See if we can roll her on to her belly," he said. "I think the body chain has enough slack."
Rough hands dug cruelly into the flesh of her upper arms and thighs as they rolled her over. The body chain cut into the flesh of the valley between her full breasts, her belly and mound. The new position made the tension on her shoulder sockets much greater and the pale flesh of her breasts was pressed into the soft leafy ground.
"Better," murmured Wolf. "Much better." His big hands cupped the fullness of her bottom, stroking the lower curves and leading up to the parted crease.
"Give me the willow twigs." Wolf's voice was low, trembling with excitement.
Zacora glanced over her creamy shoulder. Wolf was looking at the place between her splayed thighs with the flushed pink flesh, shining with moisture and centred by a delicate bud which she knew thrust out at him. He stroked the very ends of the willow twigs across the parted hemispheres, making Zacora shiver as she wondered at her fate. Part of her was supremely excited. She felt light headed at her vulnerable predicament; pegged to the ground and held by chains. She knew that Wolf and the other men could see every detail of her sex pouch, every fold, every moist crease, but she could not see anything of theirs.
The still evening air was disturbed by the swish of the crude whip, but only the very tips brushed the lower curves of her parted buttocks. It was a tickle, a brush, a taste of what she knew was to come. Her hands grasped at the peg which held her wrists to the ground and her slim body tensed as she waited for blows yet to be received.
Silently, her soft lips parted, she mouthed a prayer of thanks to her teachers. It was they who had shown her how to be disciplined and take punishment; it was they who taught her to be passive and obedient to all men.
Her buttock flesh quivered as the willow whip struck in earnest. A faint mew of surprise whispered from her lips.
"See how the flesh reddens," said the man called Kroll. "Each twig gives a thin stripe of scarlet."
"Again," whispered Pike. "Do it again."
The lash beat down again, harder this time, and Zacora's body arched involuntarily, bowing upwards from the mossy ground.
Was she being punished for all the humiliation that the men suffered in their own land? She could think of no other reason for them to treat her so harshly.
A rough finger slipped into the hot moistness of her naked and vulnerable sex, displayed so openly by her position on the leafy ground.
The finger slipped into her easily, sliding between the folds without resistance. Zacora felt her face flush, remembering what Wolf had called her earlier. A harlot. The word echoed in her mind, but she wasn't, surely she wasn't.
"Her sex sap flows readily," said Wolf, "and her passage is open."
Zacora felt a work roughened thumb graze over the pouting erection of her clitoris. She heard herself sigh, whispering her pleasure at the touch on that sensitive place. She bore down on the intruding fingers, for that was what she was taught to do for men. She must receive both pleasure and pain gladly, for that was what men required to obtain full release.
"The bitch asks to be taken," said Wolf roughly. "What does she need?"
"Punishment!" said the others with one voice.
Zacora tensed, knowing what was coming. Her buttocks were greatly heated from the first lash of the willow whip. She felt that the tender flesh had been peppered with coarse sand, for there were many points of pain.
The pain was greatly enhanced at the next blow. The heat suffused her whole body as well as making her buttocks a swelling mound of fire. Tears welled up in her sapphire eyes, spilling down the peach-like cheeks to add to the dampness of the fallen forest leaves. Her soft lips curved to a perfect O as breath was forced from them.
"She likes the pain," said Brad, excitement obvious in his voice.
It was true. In Lokara women were taught to accept discipline. But there, it was controlled pain; an exciting prelude to a man's taking of their flesh.
"Please, not so hard," she whispered. She looked over her shoulder, her limpid eyes seeking Wolf's dark brown ones, pleading for less harsh discipline. "Make the strokes lighter and I shall gladly take you into my body."
Squatting by her helpless body, Wolf stroked his fingers across the inflamed hillocks of her bottom. She could see the beauty of his male shaft, erect and spearing from between his massive brown thighs. His gaze was fixed on her parted buttocks. He allowed his fingers to trace each line left by the willow twigs, feeling the welt where the flesh was raised.
"Lightly, you say?" he queried. He frowned into the blueness of her eyes.
"Yes," she murmured. "If the pain brings tears, how can I take your bodies gladly?"
Tense, her hands clasped tightly around the peg which held her wrist chains and her legs spread taut and wide, Zacora waited. Her bottom was a mound of fire, but her sex was delicately flushed, almost ready for the penetration which she knew would follow the beating. Her sex sap gathered on the pink and swollen folds, moistening her bud which was jerking involuntarily, pouting for attention.
The willow twigs whispered through the air. Zacora licked her lips in that interminably long second as she waited for the blow to fall. It came. Upon the pain already inflicted, it stung hotly, adding to the raised welts lifting on the pert mounds.
Men are my masters, thought Zacora. It has always been so in Lokara. As the willow twigs swished through the warm night air and she waited for the next blow, she thought back to her home, the castle where she was born; the noble knight who took her virginity and, when he had finished with her, sent her to the auction to be sold.
"She makes not a sound," said Brad, marvelling at Zacora's silence.
"Except the sighs of passion," added Pike. "Is it now, Wolf? Can we take the woman's body now?"
A hard naked toe prodded the softness of her breast, the full flesh sloping into the leafy forest floor. "Aye," rasped Kroll, "and who shall be first?"
Zacora looked up at him. His square jaw jutted forward belligerently as he looked down at her. He stroked the smoothness of his erection, iron in its rigidity. He grinned and posed his shaft at her, thrusting his muscular pelvis forward and cupping the hard fullness of his balls.
Zacora turned away, although all her training had taught her that she should have smiled at a man who desired her. She had no wish to be called a harlot again.
The hard toe prodded the fullness of her breasts again. "Would you wish me to be first, my pretty?" asked Kroll.
She could see the bloated veins of his rigidity pulsing with eagerness. A pearly dew drop hung upon the bloated globe of his penis, shimmering in the light of the dying fire. "If you wish," she said, but her voice was cold and polite. There was no warmth of invitation.
He kicked her again. "The wench is insolent," he said spitefully.
Wolf laughed. "And our women are not?" he questioned. "Apart from Harold the Pretender and the Prince there is not a man in Vakir who can stand up to our women. Enjoy the good manners of this one while you may."
Kroll grunted sullenly. "No more whipping?" he said, feeling that his spite should be vented in some way.
Fingers, cool compared from the fire in her buttocks, touched the thousand raised welts on the once creamy skin. Zacora trembled at the touch, wanting them to enter the darkness of the cleft between her buttocks and go further. She wanted them to cosset the spongy moistness which awaited in her willing sex pouch.
"Turn her over," said Wolf, and she heard him throw the willow whip to the floor.
As she was turned upon her back she winced as tiny twigs and pebbles on the forest floor pressed into the punished flesh of her buttocks. With the four huge men looking down on her, she was suddenly ashamed of her nakedness. This emotion had never plagued her before, for she was proud of her body, but she knew they looked upon her in a different light from the men of Lokara.
Her breasts were swollen on each side of the body chain, pouting out with nipples inflamed and massively erect. Zacora closed her eyes, not wishing to look upon her own body. It had suddenly become a thing of shame rather than a supple living thing of beauty.
A roughened nail flicked each pert nipple, making shots of pain flutter through the taut mounds. She winced, opening the sapphire blue eyes wide, questioning the reason for such outright cruelty.
"Isn't it a great feeling?" Wolf hissed. "Tonight we are the masters!"
Pike gave a gleeful growl. "The masters," he echoed. "Our issue will not be banked to produce yet more women. The masters, if only for tonight!"
Zacora held her breath in shock. Every muscle in her slender body became tense with horror. What kind of hell was this?
"If the Prince could produce a son, an heir," sighed Wolf, "perhaps there would be kindness in the land once more. Perhaps there would be love between men and women. Perhaps life would be normal."
Brad and Pike nodded. "We were spared only because we were strong and were suitable for hard manual labour." Brad looked down at her, cruelty and revenge patent in his dark eyes.
Zacora was beginning to understand. The men, those which were spared, hated women. They punished them for being women whenever there was a chance. A pliant and passive beauty, obedient and eager to please was a treat which they could not resist.
Stretched tautly above her head, Zacora's arms ached intolerably. Her bottom was raw and inflamed. She remained still, so that it would not chafe on the forest floor. Her sex, so naked and unprotected, felt very vulnerable. At home, with her own kind, she would have revelled in that very vulnerability.
"It is time," said Wolf, kneeling between her splayed legs and feeling the plumpness of her mound, stroking the perfectly rounded arch of her pubis. She felt the soft pad of flesh ripple under his fingers and the silver curls of her bush whisper against his palm.
The circling moons, the three sisters as the locals called them, had risen and shed cold light upon the scene. The mens' bodies gleamed darkly in the pale light. Their huge chests, with the massively developed pectorals, were a mass of shadows and highlights. The tight stomachs and narrow hips were firm. Long shadowed thighs and huge calves were straddled wide and their male sex swords were thrust forward eagerly. Zacora found her eyes straying to the heavy sacs, so full and taut under the arches of the splayed thighs. If the men were so deprived of affection, of sex, those sacs must be bursting to release their contents. She found herself shuddering uncontrollably.
Thumbs spread the plump moist folds wide open, making her even more exposed and vulnerable. "Never have I seen a woman's sex so pale," whispered Wolf. "Always they are dark. And this one has such a dainty bud, so young and innocent."
The compliments were obviously sincere and Zacora found herself smiling with pleasure, in spite of the possible insults she might rain down upon herself.
"Now she preens!" scoffed Brad. "Penetrate her to the hilt."
The sharp words were said spitefully. Tears blurred Zacora's vision and, again, she felt ashamed of her body. Even when she lost her virginity, she did not feel shame or humiliation, but somehow these men made her feel dirty with their actions and words.
Kroll stroked the fan of golden hair spread around her beautiful face, tracing the silver highlights caught by the light of the three moons. He was squatting behind her head and she looked back at him, trying again to please, but the smile was rewarded by a hard slap across the cheeks. Zacora gasped for the blow was a shock and a surprise. It made her head rock against her arms, stretched so tightly behind her. And again the blow was repeated, this time with the back of Kroll's hard hand. Zacora's beautiful face burned with shame and the force of the blow.
Wolf looked up. His fingers investigated every moist crevice of her sex and she could feel a melting in the lower part of her belly and she knew it heralded the beginnings of her orgasm. "She's getting wet," he said, grinning at the other men. He pointed a free hand at Kroll. "Hey! Don't damage her, idiot."
Face burning, Zacora looked up at Kroll, asking why with wide blue eyes. He dived his rough hand into the depths of her silky hair, tugging her head back until her long creamy throat was exposed. The action lifted her breasts, arching them high and making her nipples more available to him.
"It hurts," she whispered softly, trying vainly to release his grip by twisting her head from side to side, but this only increased the pain.
"You talk too much," he rasped, tugging her hair yet harder. "We must find some way to close your mouth." He looked at Wolf, seeking permission.
Wolf grinned, nodding before returning to his task of stimulating the girl.
A further tug in her long golden hair brought Kroll's face close to hers. She could feel her sex aching for pleasure. She knew the folds were swollen and open for Wolf's attention. She knew her bud was fully exposed and it was jutting upwards from the moistness of the flushed bed. She felt ugly and used in her humiliation, but at the same time she didn't want Wolf to stop his caresses.
She heard him snigger and she heard a metallic rattle. The body chain was loose, dangling somewhere over her head. She couldn't see it because Kroll still held her by the hair. Although the opportunity was there because the lower end of the body chain was released, she had no wish to close her legs. The opposite was true. She raised her knees to make herself more available.
She felt a sudden shock of cold. The chain was being fed into the moist heat of her vagina. A gasp caught her throat but she clutched frantically at the intruding chain with her trained vaginal muscles. Wolf's attentions had been prolonged and without release.
The change of action motivated Kroll and, almost before she had time to draw breath, a great sword of flesh was thrust between her softly parted lips. In her country it was a custom, in sexual play, for a man to spume into a woman's mouth, but it was not done through force but after much gentle preparation.
"Suck it, bitch," said Kroll. "Swallow me."
At the same moment, Wolf caressed her bud as well as pushing as much of the smooth body chain into her willing vagina as was possible. She felt her body convulse magnificently. It could not be stopped. It was just as it was when the noble took her virginity.
Mouth open, Zacora was able to engulf all of Kroll's hugeness. His tip moved into her gullet and this caressed it, soaking it with saliva. She could hear him groaning his pleasure and this increased her pleasure, making her climax repeat itself with double the strength.
The chain was pulled from her vagina, link by link, and she could feel the cushiony flesh clutching at the warmed metal, as if to keep it there. Suddenly, the chain was gone and her sex was clutching on the misty night air, grasping at nothing.
"Watch!" breathed Wolf to Brad and Pike. "Never have I seen such a welcome!"
The words made Zacora proud of the years of female training in Lokara; the learning how to love and be loved.
"Are you going to put it in?" asked Brad. He was the youngest of the sedan bearers and had no experience with women at all. He had never been given a chance to sink into the heat of a willing vessel. Wolf pushed him forward.
"You, my lad," he said laughing, "may take your turn, but be quick about it. My hunger is at least as great as yours."
Zacora felt smooth young thighs being pushed against hers, just as Kroll jerked deep into her throat. The first taste of his issue was thick and salty as though it was long stored in his huge sac. Jet after jet poured over her tongue and down into her gullet. Her training made it easy to take the rich liquid without gagging. It poured into her in a never ending stream.
There was a smooth jab at her slippery vaginal entrance. "That's it, lad," she heard Wolf say, "now press hard."
The penis which speared into her was long and thick, but it slid into her with very little resistance because she was so wet and ready. The cushiony walls caressed the young man's length, petting the smooth rigidity with skilful muscles. Brad was breathing hard.
The four men had treated her badly. Her buttocks still burned from the thrashing and her mind still reeled with their insults, but her training went so deep that she could not help herself. She had to pleasure Brad to the very best of her ability.
He drove into her, butting to the very limits of her womb. She, in turn, so far as her tethered arms would allow, gyrated under him, ignoring the stinging pain in her thrashed bottom. Her rear hole, still glowing from the attention of the willow twigs, pulsed in rhythm with her caressing vagina.
A final harsh breath signalled Kroll's climax had faded. The night air was free to blow across Zacora's fair features which had been so closely confined throughout his penetration of her mouth. He didn't stand immediately, but wiped his penis in her silky hair, leaving sticky streaks in the golden strands.
In the very depths of her vagina began a heaviness, a melting pot of pleasure which engulfed her and, in turn, the young man.
A mew of delight escaped Zacora's soft lips, lips which were silvery with the remains of Kroll's semen. She arched her back, craving Brad to take her body. He pounded her, holding the sharp arches of her slim hips to gain purchase, bruising her with the force of his grip.
"She's almost there, Brad," said Wolf excitedly, "And so are you. Fuck her! Fuck her hard!"
The crude language grated on Zacora's ears but, at the same time, it heightened her excitement. Her puff of silvery blonde hair upon her mound gyrated on the man's coarse black one, and this was another source of excitement. She felt him throb in her silky depths and she, automatically, squeezed with her well-trained muscles. He groaned, wetting her creamy body with the sweat of exertion, so that their skin squelched moistly as they moved.
He spurted into her. Time after time he spurted into her. The thrusts seemed never ending, but at last Wolf grabbed the lad's muscular shoulder, pulling him away from the helpless girl. Zacora saw Brad, panting and still making his emission a few yards away.
She felt hard hands on her strained shoulders. The pain made her wince, biting her soft lower lip. It was Wolf, the largest man, lowering himself into her. She saw his penis, so dark in the shadow of his own body as to look almost black.
Her entrance was fully open and drenched with Brad's sperm, but she tensed, trying to make her vessel tight for Wolf, trying to make it pamper him. He hovered above her, rough hands hard on her shoulders. He nudged at the warm wetness of her entrance with the rounded thickness of his globe. She could feel him opening her up, spreading the inner lips apart. Poised there, he looked down at her.
Prised open in this way, Zacora could feel Brad's hot liquid running from her; feel it seeping over the spread buttocks and down her splayed thighs. She had bent her knees and spread them outwards, making herself totally vulnerable for Wolf, wanting to please him.
"You are a used woman," he grunted cruelly in her face. His features were a mask of hatred; his need to hurt her naked form beneath him.
Zacora said nothing, but simply tried to ignore the pain in her shoulders. His grip was fierce on her soft flesh and her arms were becoming numb from their long confinement in one position above her head. She concentrated on the wonderful feelings in her sex. He penetrated her further, making the entrance slow and tantalising. She tilted her mound, offering a more open position.
Wolf's dark eyes slitted cruelly. "Surely," he hissed, "only a harlot would know such tricks." She saw him move his swarthy cheeks, gathering saliva and a great gob of his spit splashed on her pale cheek. He plunged into her fully, gyrating cruelly, and she met him movement for movement. It was an angry, frantic coupling with the sex skilled girl contracting her muscles around him, milking him of his sperm. His heavy balls smacked hard against her buttocks, already wet with Brad's spillage.
Another splash of liquid fell hotly on her swollen breasts. Wolf still held her at the shoulders, pinching the fine skin and bruising the delicate bones.
Zacora looked up, Pike was standing over them, his head thrown back, glorying in their sudden ascendancy over a woman. His penis was held in one hand, while the other was cupping his balls. His thick shaft was being manipulated vigorously and it was spurting in great hot splashes over her naked breasts.
She accepted her humiliation gladly. She smiled up at Wolf and was rewarded with another gob of saliva, aimed this time into her open soft lips. His movements were frantic, spearing his whole length into her. She could feel him pulsing and her own climax was so close, so very close.