Trojan Slaves by Syra Bond

with the heady aroma of joy. The scent of her pleasure was
the misfortune of another, and it smelled delectably sweet.
    A leather
rope, knotted together from many separate thongs, was wrapped
around the woman's waist. It was taken around the post at her back
twelve times until, holding her as tight as possible against the
post, it was tied off securely. She gasped against the gag and
tried to squirm against her bonds, but the only movement she could
make was to bend her head forward in sorry submission. Tears filled
her eyes as she awaited her unknown punishment.
    One of the men
scrambled up the gantry and leant over the edge, awaiting
instructions. Another unwrapped a long loose hose made of animal
skin that led up to the water butt at the top of the gantry.
    There was a
moment of silence. The line of naked women stood still. Sappho
could not pull herself closer to the grill so instead pushed her
hands through the grating. She lifted herself slightly and, sitting
back fully on Chryseis' fingers, pushed her feet through as well.
The feeling of her hands and feet hanging out over the courtyard -
there to be seen if anyone looked - sent new thrills of joy through
her body. She shivered and shook with excitement. She sat back
heavily onto Chryseis' fingers, now pushed even further into the
welcoming flesh of her wet vagina.
    Praxis held
the brass-tipped rod high. The man holding the end of the leather
hose held it above the woman's head. Master Wang screeched an
instruction to the man on the gantry. He bent down and turned a
large wheel until a sudden flow of water poured from the end of the
hose. It hit the woman full in the face, knocking her head back
against the timber beam. She flared her nostrils and fought for
breath. The man holding the hose brought it close to her face,
directing its full force at her. She screwed up her eyes and shook
her head from side to side. A spray of droplets surrounded her in a
massive halo. The man kept the hose directed at her and it splashed
heavily into her ears and up her nostrils. Her eyes were the only
testament to her screams, silenced by the plug of the gag, the
frantic array of rainbow-coloured rain around her head the only
clue to her desperation. The bubbles foaming around her nostrils,
the evidence of her grip on life so easily quenched and silenced by
the sound of the fierce water.
    Sappho pushed
her arms and feet further through the grill. She wanted someone to
look up at her, to see her exposure, her pleasure. She wanted to
scream out. She wanted to be caught, dragged down into the
courtyard and treated like the woman. She stretched her arms
further out. She wanted everything she could see.
    The man with
the hose directed it on the woman's breasts. She threw her head
back with the shock when it hit her. The fingers of her hands,
spread wide against the bonds that held her wrists, tensed and
released in quick succession. She bit the ball in her mouth as hard
as she could. Her nipples rose hard and stiff against the cold flow
of water. The paleness of her breasts flushed with the chill of the
cold, and her stomach tensed as she tried somehow to hold in the
pain.
    Sappho started
moving on Chryseis' fingers, heralding the quickening speed she
needed. Chryseis responded, pressing deeper into her sex then
slipping back before thrusting in again. And she delved her fingers
deeper into Sappho's anus, now dilated wide and throbbing with the
excitement of the sensitising thrust.
    When the man
with the hose directed it straight at the woman's exposed sex her
eyes widened and she went stiff. The water ran into her vagina,
filling it, bubbling between its soft folds, flowing inside,
running out. Only her eyes told of the pain of the cold water, the
violation of the flow and the degrading humiliation that
accompanied it.
    Sappho was
absorbed. She felt every harsh splash, every brutal smack of the
water. She imagined it inside her, chilling her innards, shrinking
her flesh, freezing her,