hey were on the move at daybreak, as the rising sun began to paint the sky with gaudy strokes of pink and rose to herald its arrival. When released from the post, Sindrah and Karissa stood, stiff and shivering from the cold while their hands were lashed behind their backs and ropes tied to the necks, as had been the case the day before. Sindrah was hungry. But the slavers had not eaten, so she didn't think she would either. She was accustomed to having anything she could possibly desire for breakfast, often served in bed by handmaidens, from boiled crusset eggs to sweet honeycakes that melted in one's mouth, and rashers of sugared pork and fresh fruit from the Greve family orchard. Thinking of this made her empty stomach knot painfully. All she and her sister received was a cup of brackish water.
As they prepared to ride, Sindrah found herself hoping she would be put with Ordis. Instead, Ordis was given Karissa, and she was put in Dirk's charge. Dirk had been the only one, aside from Moran, who had not visited in the night to have his cock sucked. He first lifted Sindrah onto his saddle, took the rope around her neck to the pommel for one turn, then down to her left ankle, tossing the rope under the barrel of his horse in order to wrap it twice right the right ankle, then wound the rest round her slender waist, tying it off at the pommel. Sindrah feared a repeat of the humiliations visited upon her during the previous day's ride. But before they set off, Moran forbade such activities. He was anxious to cross the Bloodroot Pass and put Ironhall lands behind them.
They set off on the long ascent to the pass, wending through a maze of jumbled boulders, then to zig and zag up steep shoulders where only thornbush and bloodroot grew. Sindrah shivered violently from the cold through the first part, so miserable she scarcely paid attention to her surroundings. When the sun finally rose high enough for it to reach her, she slowly began to thaw out, but in this season and at this elevation it remained chilly throughout the day. By mid-morning they were nearing the pass and she looked out across the vista that was her homeland of Ironhall. The fortress city itself was too far to see, obscured by the haze of distance. Profound sadness tore at her heart. Where was her father? Why hadn't he come to rescue her and Karissa?How could he abandon them to such a horrible fate?
The way through the pass was lined with the rock debris of countless avalances now covered with a sporadic carpet of bloodroot. Rock outcroppings jutted from the steep slopes before they became sheer towers of gray stone. The slavers were in high spirits. The fortress of Wolfrune was not far now. Soon they would be indulging themselves in all the whores and wine they could afford. There was some debate regarding how much their captives might bring on the auction block. The discussion included a lot of talk about the sisters' specific attributes and how they would and ought to be used, which repeatedly made Sindrah blush hot with embarrassment. Moran did not participate other than to bark an occasional command for his men to stay alert. They would fall silent for a while, but before long the chatter started up again.
Suddenly, an arrow sprouted in Buco's neck, and another in his temple. He died falling sideways off his horse with a shocked expression frozen on his face. There were shouts, curses, horses whinnying as reins were checked hard. Moran spun and with one glance at the arrows, with their shafts black as pitch and the fletching dyed blood red, shouted, "Waysmen!" Then he began cursing his men as they left their saddles to seek cover. "No! No! Ride!"
Sindrah looked sharply up the slope to her right, her heart lurching in her chest. She thought she saw movement, a shadowy figure darting through the jumble of rocks, but couldn't be sure, so swiftly did it vanish. Suddenly arrows seemed to fill the air around her. She hunched over but none passed near. All the horses went down save for Moran's and the two upon which the captive girls remained bound. Belatedly she realized Dirk had abandoned her and saw Ordis had also left Karissa on his horse. In a moment of clarity Sindrah recognized the opportunity and opened her mouth to scream at her sister to ride! But before she could call out, a blur of movement leaped in a great arc from a huge boulder, landing in the saddle behind Karissa.
Sunlight flashed on a blade, and in a heartbeat Karissa's ropes fell away and the shadow was off the horse and carrying her into the shelter of an outcropping. Sindrah caught a glimpse of a short tunic and leggins fashioned from a patchwork of oddly shaped pieces of fabric dyed in greens and browns. He wore a hood with only a slit at the eyes. He didn't move like other men moved. Only for that instant when he sat on the horse to free Karissa could Sindrah's eyes catch up with him. Moran had to be right! The Way of Tal'arron was a centuries-old guild of assassins steeped in mystery and legend. Those who managed to survive years of training to learn a unique set of skills -- perfect expertise with every known weapon, the ability to move faster than the eye could follow, the art of stealth and camouflage, and more -- were called Waysmen. They were mercenaries, and Ironhall had a small cadre of them.
The dying scream of a horse drew her attention away from her sister. Moran's horse went down but the captain landed on his feet and brandished a sword, starting in pursuit of Karissa. Hoping to distract him, Sindrah slammed her heels into the barrel of the horse she sat astride and it leaped into a gallop. The horse was prancing athwart the trail, made nervous by the chaos around it. As she had no way to turn it one way or the other it was up to the animal to decide. It headed east -- towards its home, Wolfrune.
She looked back to see Moran do the seemingly impossible -- emerging unscathed from a flurry of arrows sent at him. It was as though he could deflect the seeking arrows with his blade! He abruptly changed directions to leap onto the horse behind Sindrah as it went by. For an instant the mount had its head, galloping unchecked, the dropped reins whipping at her bare legs. Moran reached around her to gather them up. Sindrah's dismay was tempered somewhat by the solace she derived in knowing that Karissa had been freed. Moran let the horse run. No arrows pursued him now; Sindrah was his shield. The way she had been lashed to the horse guaranteed she could not fall, though at first she did seem to slip a little to one side and then the other. This she corrected by clamping her legs tightly round the barrel. Even so her ass and pussy slapped hard against the worn leather of the saddle. She leaned forward, putting some slack into the rope attaching her neck to the pommel.
They had left the ambush well behind, the horse running like a pack of wolves were nipping at its heels. Moran finally drew rein,. The horse snorted and tossed its head, pivoting with eyes wild. Apart from the noise it made, the pass was eerily quiet now. Sindrah glanced back at her captor. The cold rage etched into Moran's features frightened her, but she lifted her chin to a defiant angle.
"Your men are dead and my sister is free!"
Moran's gaze bored into her. "You are full of surprises, girl." He threw a look over his shoulder then put the horse in motion again. Sindrah began to weep. She felt sure the waysmen who had lain in ambush for the slavers were from Ironhall, and fairly sure her sister was safe and free. But now she was completely alone. A deep melancholy settled over her.
Moran kept going until the horse was lathered and laboring. By the time he stopped they had put Bloodroot Pass behind them, finding themselves on rolling hills nearly barren of foliage. He studied their backtrail for some time.
"Once our sign was discovered your father must have sent his waysmen on ahead, with several mounts apiece I would think, so they could ride without stopping, even through the night, to reach the pass ahead of us. The question is, do they have orders to come into Wolfrune."
"They aren't coming," murmured Sindrah dismally.
"I'm not so sure," he said, and they were off again.
They came to Wolfrune shortly after the sun passed its zenith. Sindrah stared at the fortress city that had been built on a plateau at the fork of two mighty rivers, and her panic escalated with every stride of the horse that carried her nearer her doom. She looked behind her more than once, praying to the gods that she would see the waysmen, or Ironhall knights, coming to her rescue. But there was nothing.Father, why have you failed me!She was heart-broken, and felt hope slip away.
They crossed a wide stone bridge and as they approached the gate the sentries recognized Moran and a great portcullis was raised with a grinding clatter. The sentries looked her over, grinning, and Sindrah groaned, as now an entire city would see her naked. Quaking, she hung her head, hiding behind a veil of tangled golden hair as Moran led her through the gate. She did not dare look up until they stopped at the iron-braced wooden doors of a large slave compound. A tall beefy man emerged accompanied by two rough looking men. The former beamed at Moran and threw open his arms in hearty greeting.
"Ah, Captain! What fine specimens of slave flesh have you brought Wolfrune this day!" His small beady eyes took in Sindrah, then looked beyond her. "Your crew brings the rest?"
"This is all there is," replied Moran curtly. "Listen well, Chard. I want this one kept apart from other slaves. I want her washed immediately, and whether she is virgin determined. She is not to be used. And guard her closely. She is a smart one."
"No need to worry, Captain. Not a single slave has left this compound unless purchased or dead." Chard gave Sindrah a closer look. "What makes her so special, Captain?"
"Just do what I tell you," snapped Moran, reaching over to put several coppers in the man's paw. "Or you may well have to answer to Prince Tycho."
"Prince Tycho!" Puzzled and suddenly obsequious, Chard again looked Sindrah over, nodding. "As you say, Captain, as you say."
Moran dismounted and cut Sindrah free of the saddle, then handed her over to one of Chard's minions. Remounting, he rode at a canter down the broad stone-paved lane that led deeper into the city.
Chard turned to go inside the slave compound. The man handling Sindrah wrapped a hand round the bindings that remained on her wrists and with the other hand collected a fistful of her hair, marching her after the slavemaster.
Sindrah was stunned by the sight her eyes beheld. There were cages lining the walls of the compound, dozens of cages, all holding one or more naked slaves, most of them young women but some men and even children too. Atop the walls were platforms running their full length, upon which milled free people, old and young, male and female, spectators watching the goings-on down below. In the center of the compound were crosses and stocks, whipping posts and wheels, and on nearly all of these one or more slaves was bound. The compound was filled with a cacophony of cries of pain, the cracking of whips, sobs and moans of the enslaved mingled with laughter and applause contributed by the free on the observation platforms when they saw something that entertained them. There were at least a hundred slaves present, nearly as many spectators, and numerous men like the one who held Sindrah fast. Sindrah wanted to cover her ears to block the terrifying noise.
Chard summoned a small old white-haired man who was busy scrubbing pots in a lean-to. The old man shuffled over, wizened body clad only in a loincloth, nodding effusively as the slavemaster commanded him to bathe Sindrah thoroughly and then check her maiden's hood. Sindrah stared at the old man, who seemed to be looking at no one in particular, and then saw that his eyes were covered with a white film. Chard grinned at her. "Ubrik here is blind. He sees with his hands. He will make sure every inch of you is washed."
In moments Sindrah stood in a large tub filled with water that came halfway up her calves. Ubrik joined her, a block of lard soap soaked in rose oil in one hand, and began to wash her. The guard stood close by and looked on, admiring her body. Sindrah had never been touched all over by another -- a maidservant often washed her back when she had bathed at home but that was all. Ubrik was quite thorough and took his time, caressing every inch of her, a happy smile on his face. She jumped and blushed wildly when he washed her inner thighs and then her pussy and between her ass cheeks, and he touched them all twice, once to soap them and then again -- after rinsing her off with a couple of buckets of water -- when he dried her with a ragged cloth to make sure all the soap residue was gone from her flesh. "Ah, this is a true beauty," he murmured. He bade her bend over and she complied, staying bent at the waist while he washed her hair and then used a coarse-bristled brush on it.
When Ubrik announced he was done, the guard took her by binding and hair again and marched her out into the center of the compound. Mortified, Sindrah looked up at the people on the platforms. There was no way they could miss her now, as she was swiftly bound to a large wheel. Nearby a young woman dangled from a post with her toes just off the ground, performing a writhing dance of pain as a man flogged her naked body. Over and over the helpless woman sobbed "I am a but a worthless slave, Doman! Doman, I am but a worthless slave!" A bit further away, an elderly noblewoman was inspecting three naked lads standing shoulder to shoulder, squeezing their buttocks, then coming around to weigh each of their cocks in her hand.
A pie-shaped section of the wheel had been removed, allowing Ubrik to come up between her legs. Sindrah strained helplessly against her bindings, trembling and hot with embarrassment. "Now let us make certain you are a virgin," said the old man, touching her fully exposed pussy.
"Oh nooooo!" she sobbed piteously, staring down the length of her body at him. "Pl-please, don't. I am! I am a virgin! I-I swear it!" But with great relish Ubrik was already spreading her soft labial folds with the fingertips of both hands, exposing her glistening pink vagina. He spread her more, her tiny little hole opening wider, and then he ran a fingertip slowly round the opening. Sindrah squeezed her eyes shut and put her head down and sobbed, so appalled was she to be examined like this in front of so many.
"Ahhhhh," crooned Ubrik as he touched the delicate membrane shaped like a half-moon "There it is!" And then he yelped in surprise and the guard guffawed, seeing the old man ejaculating gobs of semen that oozed down the thick post to which the wheel was secured.
In that instant Chard boomed "Stand aside!" and Ubrik stumbled away at the approach of the beefy slavemaster, who was accompanied by Moran and a dark-haired, broad-shouldered man of middle age clad in a tunic of fine white cloth, sewn with golden thread and adorned with a broad scarlet stripe across the shoulders. His belt was be-jeweled and made, like his boots, of the red leather for which Wolfrune was famous.The crowd on the platforms grew quiet as this man strode eagerly to the wheel and stood gazing down at Sindrah.
"You are certain she is Rycard Greve's daughter, Moran?" he rasped.
"Since Greve sent his waysmen to retrieve her I am fairly certain," replied the slaver.
"Yes, yes. A shame you lost the other. But this one will do for my purposes." He walked around to Sindrah's head and stroked her hair, intensely studying her face a moment before his gaze swept over her spread-eagled body. "Yes, she has her mother's features," he murmured. Sindrah watched his face transformed into a cruel mask of violent emotion. She was too terrified at that moment to wonder how this man, whom she assumed was Tycho Bellam, Prince of Wolfrune, knew what her mother looked like. "You remind me of my betrothed of so many years ago, snatched from loving embrace by your father. He changed my life forever." He bent down, putting his face closer to hers, and she felt his hot breath as he added, coldly, "And now I will change YOUR life -- andhis-- forever."
He went round the wheel and up between her legs. Chard turned, arms raised and shouted in a booming voice that captured the attention of all. "Heed me! Bear witness as our Prince indulges himself with this virgin slave!"
Sindrah strained wildly against the ropes that bound her, eyes wide, the color draining from her face, panting as panic overwhelmed her. "No-no-noooooo! Pl-please nooooo!" -- shrill cries that reached all corners of the compound and elicited some laughter from the crowd, this followed by a lusty cheer as Tycho freed his cock from the loincloth beneath his tunic and, gripping Sindrah's hips, plunged it to the balls inside her pussy. Sindrah's slender body arced, sleek arm and leg muscles flexed, her head falling back. At the joining, Tycho was rigid and still, his head rolling back too, a look of rapture on his face as he felt Sindrah's pussy spasm and grip his cock. For a heartbeat they were as statues of living flesh fused together. And then Tycho began to thrust, hard, deep, using the tight slick vise of her cunt to stroke his throbbing manhood. A handful of men on one platform began grunting loudly in time with Tycho's thrusts, and this quickly spread until it seemed half the onlookers were doing likewise.
Hot tears of shame spilled from Sindrah's eyes as Tycho raped her. She had harbored romantic fantasies of giving herself for the first time to someone she loved or at least was attracted to, as in the case of Andor. But now that dream was destroyed. She fell into such a state of abject misery and embarrassment that after the initial reaction of her body she lay there limply, sobbing disconsolately, her bare breasts bouncing with the violent, lustful rhythm of Tycho's thrusts. His plunging cock stretched her young pussy so that soon it hurt less, but she did not even experience that shameful swirl of tingling heat she'd felt when Ordis had touched her clit the day before.
Tycho frowned as he took note of how unresponsive she had become and paused, the full length of his cock buried inside her. He took her listlessness personally, and slapped her thigh hard, and then again, and a third time. With each blow she yelped, writhing, straining against the ropes. "Ah, better," he said and resumed, his balls swinging against the underside of her ass. His hand slid over her mound, his thumb finding her exposed nub of pleasure, and he grinned as her body jerked. "Come now, slave, the people want a good show!" and proceeded to rub her clit relentlessly.
Now she began to feel that tingling hot swirl! Her eyes widened as it quickly spread, waves of pleasure surging through her. She was mortified because it seemed that Tycho had seized control of her body, because she could not stop writhing -- the sensations swiftly became too intense to do anything else -- while her cries became more breathless, rising in pitch. The pleasure frightened and shamed her as much as the humiliation of being raped in public. "Ahhhh that's it!" shouted an exultant Tycho. "Her hungry little quish is grabbing my cock now!" and he picked up the pace, grunting with pleasure and exertion as he rammed his engorged member into her soaking-wet pussy, the shaft slick and gleaming with her juices and his pre-cum.
While most of the spectators on the platforms were unable to hear Tycho's exultant words, the excitement of the crowd intensified as they saw Sindrah become animated. The way she jerked and twisted and quivered and the sounds she made encouraged Tycho to an even more enthusiastic drilling of her pussy. Each thrust intensified and quickened the waves of exquisite sensations that enveloped her. Though she had sometimes touched herself to the point of climax, what Sindrah experienced now was far more extreme than what she had felt on those occasions -- so extreme that it alarmed her.
Tycho's rock-hard member was rubbing that secret spot on the roof of her vagina with each thrust, but she had no idea that such a spot existed. Her hips were bucking, rocking, and she couldn't have stilled them had she tried. Her ass was slapping softly against the broad circle of wood that formed the hub of the wheel. She felt rivulets of her juices trickling over her rosebud. Her eyes began to glaze, and her awareness of the crowd, of Chard and Moran, of everything but that cock plumbing the depths of her gripping, gushing pussy faded away. Suddenly her body went rigid, arching, and then she flopped wildly in the restraints, a guttural wail issuing from her lips as the orgasm gripped and shook her. This the crowd all around the compounddidhear, and their cheers were deafening.
Now Tycho's every thrust caused an explosion of unbearable ecstasy followed by the euphoria of release. His grip on her hips tightened and with a shout he emptied his balls into her clenching cunt. He remained still for a moment, chest heaving, cock flexing inside her, and then pulled out and walked round the wheel to her head. He used her long hair, which hung down between the spokes, to clean his cock before stuffing it back into his loincloth. He bent over, his face quite close to hers, and she stared up at him, dazed and panting.
"Tomorrow you will have one final choice to make in your life," he promised, relishing the shame and hopelessness in her eyes. Abruptly he straightened and barked at Chard. "Until the morning she is to be put on display outside the gate of this compound, under guard. Then you will bring her to me." He approached Moran and placed a pouch in the slaver's hand. "Ten gold talons," said the Prince of Wolfrune. "Bring me Greve's other daughter and you will have ten more." Then he left the compound, acknowledging with a raised hand the applause of the crowd.
As they prepared to ride, Sindrah found herself hoping she would be put with Ordis. Instead, Ordis was given Karissa, and she was put in Dirk's charge. Dirk had been the only one, aside from Moran, who had not visited in the night to have his cock sucked. He first lifted Sindrah onto his saddle, took the rope around her neck to the pommel for one turn, then down to her left ankle, tossing the rope under the barrel of his horse in order to wrap it twice right the right ankle, then wound the rest round her slender waist, tying it off at the pommel. Sindrah feared a repeat of the humiliations visited upon her during the previous day's ride. But before they set off, Moran forbade such activities. He was anxious to cross the Bloodroot Pass and put Ironhall lands behind them.
They set off on the long ascent to the pass, wending through a maze of jumbled boulders, then to zig and zag up steep shoulders where only thornbush and bloodroot grew. Sindrah shivered violently from the cold through the first part, so miserable she scarcely paid attention to her surroundings. When the sun finally rose high enough for it to reach her, she slowly began to thaw out, but in this season and at this elevation it remained chilly throughout the day. By mid-morning they were nearing the pass and she looked out across the vista that was her homeland of Ironhall. The fortress city itself was too far to see, obscured by the haze of distance. Profound sadness tore at her heart. Where was her father? Why hadn't he come to rescue her and Karissa?How could he abandon them to such a horrible fate?
The way through the pass was lined with the rock debris of countless avalances now covered with a sporadic carpet of bloodroot. Rock outcroppings jutted from the steep slopes before they became sheer towers of gray stone. The slavers were in high spirits. The fortress of Wolfrune was not far now. Soon they would be indulging themselves in all the whores and wine they could afford. There was some debate regarding how much their captives might bring on the auction block. The discussion included a lot of talk about the sisters' specific attributes and how they would and ought to be used, which repeatedly made Sindrah blush hot with embarrassment. Moran did not participate other than to bark an occasional command for his men to stay alert. They would fall silent for a while, but before long the chatter started up again.
Suddenly, an arrow sprouted in Buco's neck, and another in his temple. He died falling sideways off his horse with a shocked expression frozen on his face. There were shouts, curses, horses whinnying as reins were checked hard. Moran spun and with one glance at the arrows, with their shafts black as pitch and the fletching dyed blood red, shouted, "Waysmen!" Then he began cursing his men as they left their saddles to seek cover. "No! No! Ride!"
Sindrah looked sharply up the slope to her right, her heart lurching in her chest. She thought she saw movement, a shadowy figure darting through the jumble of rocks, but couldn't be sure, so swiftly did it vanish. Suddenly arrows seemed to fill the air around her. She hunched over but none passed near. All the horses went down save for Moran's and the two upon which the captive girls remained bound. Belatedly she realized Dirk had abandoned her and saw Ordis had also left Karissa on his horse. In a moment of clarity Sindrah recognized the opportunity and opened her mouth to scream at her sister to ride! But before she could call out, a blur of movement leaped in a great arc from a huge boulder, landing in the saddle behind Karissa.
Sunlight flashed on a blade, and in a heartbeat Karissa's ropes fell away and the shadow was off the horse and carrying her into the shelter of an outcropping. Sindrah caught a glimpse of a short tunic and leggins fashioned from a patchwork of oddly shaped pieces of fabric dyed in greens and browns. He wore a hood with only a slit at the eyes. He didn't move like other men moved. Only for that instant when he sat on the horse to free Karissa could Sindrah's eyes catch up with him. Moran had to be right! The Way of Tal'arron was a centuries-old guild of assassins steeped in mystery and legend. Those who managed to survive years of training to learn a unique set of skills -- perfect expertise with every known weapon, the ability to move faster than the eye could follow, the art of stealth and camouflage, and more -- were called Waysmen. They were mercenaries, and Ironhall had a small cadre of them.
The dying scream of a horse drew her attention away from her sister. Moran's horse went down but the captain landed on his feet and brandished a sword, starting in pursuit of Karissa. Hoping to distract him, Sindrah slammed her heels into the barrel of the horse she sat astride and it leaped into a gallop. The horse was prancing athwart the trail, made nervous by the chaos around it. As she had no way to turn it one way or the other it was up to the animal to decide. It headed east -- towards its home, Wolfrune.
She looked back to see Moran do the seemingly impossible -- emerging unscathed from a flurry of arrows sent at him. It was as though he could deflect the seeking arrows with his blade! He abruptly changed directions to leap onto the horse behind Sindrah as it went by. For an instant the mount had its head, galloping unchecked, the dropped reins whipping at her bare legs. Moran reached around her to gather them up. Sindrah's dismay was tempered somewhat by the solace she derived in knowing that Karissa had been freed. Moran let the horse run. No arrows pursued him now; Sindrah was his shield. The way she had been lashed to the horse guaranteed she could not fall, though at first she did seem to slip a little to one side and then the other. This she corrected by clamping her legs tightly round the barrel. Even so her ass and pussy slapped hard against the worn leather of the saddle. She leaned forward, putting some slack into the rope attaching her neck to the pommel.
They had left the ambush well behind, the horse running like a pack of wolves were nipping at its heels. Moran finally drew rein,. The horse snorted and tossed its head, pivoting with eyes wild. Apart from the noise it made, the pass was eerily quiet now. Sindrah glanced back at her captor. The cold rage etched into Moran's features frightened her, but she lifted her chin to a defiant angle.
"Your men are dead and my sister is free!"
Moran's gaze bored into her. "You are full of surprises, girl." He threw a look over his shoulder then put the horse in motion again. Sindrah began to weep. She felt sure the waysmen who had lain in ambush for the slavers were from Ironhall, and fairly sure her sister was safe and free. But now she was completely alone. A deep melancholy settled over her.
Moran kept going until the horse was lathered and laboring. By the time he stopped they had put Bloodroot Pass behind them, finding themselves on rolling hills nearly barren of foliage. He studied their backtrail for some time.
"Once our sign was discovered your father must have sent his waysmen on ahead, with several mounts apiece I would think, so they could ride without stopping, even through the night, to reach the pass ahead of us. The question is, do they have orders to come into Wolfrune."
"They aren't coming," murmured Sindrah dismally.
"I'm not so sure," he said, and they were off again.
They came to Wolfrune shortly after the sun passed its zenith. Sindrah stared at the fortress city that had been built on a plateau at the fork of two mighty rivers, and her panic escalated with every stride of the horse that carried her nearer her doom. She looked behind her more than once, praying to the gods that she would see the waysmen, or Ironhall knights, coming to her rescue. But there was nothing.Father, why have you failed me!She was heart-broken, and felt hope slip away.
They crossed a wide stone bridge and as they approached the gate the sentries recognized Moran and a great portcullis was raised with a grinding clatter. The sentries looked her over, grinning, and Sindrah groaned, as now an entire city would see her naked. Quaking, she hung her head, hiding behind a veil of tangled golden hair as Moran led her through the gate. She did not dare look up until they stopped at the iron-braced wooden doors of a large slave compound. A tall beefy man emerged accompanied by two rough looking men. The former beamed at Moran and threw open his arms in hearty greeting.
"Ah, Captain! What fine specimens of slave flesh have you brought Wolfrune this day!" His small beady eyes took in Sindrah, then looked beyond her. "Your crew brings the rest?"
"This is all there is," replied Moran curtly. "Listen well, Chard. I want this one kept apart from other slaves. I want her washed immediately, and whether she is virgin determined. She is not to be used. And guard her closely. She is a smart one."
"No need to worry, Captain. Not a single slave has left this compound unless purchased or dead." Chard gave Sindrah a closer look. "What makes her so special, Captain?"
"Just do what I tell you," snapped Moran, reaching over to put several coppers in the man's paw. "Or you may well have to answer to Prince Tycho."
"Prince Tycho!" Puzzled and suddenly obsequious, Chard again looked Sindrah over, nodding. "As you say, Captain, as you say."
Moran dismounted and cut Sindrah free of the saddle, then handed her over to one of Chard's minions. Remounting, he rode at a canter down the broad stone-paved lane that led deeper into the city.
Chard turned to go inside the slave compound. The man handling Sindrah wrapped a hand round the bindings that remained on her wrists and with the other hand collected a fistful of her hair, marching her after the slavemaster.
Sindrah was stunned by the sight her eyes beheld. There were cages lining the walls of the compound, dozens of cages, all holding one or more naked slaves, most of them young women but some men and even children too. Atop the walls were platforms running their full length, upon which milled free people, old and young, male and female, spectators watching the goings-on down below. In the center of the compound were crosses and stocks, whipping posts and wheels, and on nearly all of these one or more slaves was bound. The compound was filled with a cacophony of cries of pain, the cracking of whips, sobs and moans of the enslaved mingled with laughter and applause contributed by the free on the observation platforms when they saw something that entertained them. There were at least a hundred slaves present, nearly as many spectators, and numerous men like the one who held Sindrah fast. Sindrah wanted to cover her ears to block the terrifying noise.
Chard summoned a small old white-haired man who was busy scrubbing pots in a lean-to. The old man shuffled over, wizened body clad only in a loincloth, nodding effusively as the slavemaster commanded him to bathe Sindrah thoroughly and then check her maiden's hood. Sindrah stared at the old man, who seemed to be looking at no one in particular, and then saw that his eyes were covered with a white film. Chard grinned at her. "Ubrik here is blind. He sees with his hands. He will make sure every inch of you is washed."
In moments Sindrah stood in a large tub filled with water that came halfway up her calves. Ubrik joined her, a block of lard soap soaked in rose oil in one hand, and began to wash her. The guard stood close by and looked on, admiring her body. Sindrah had never been touched all over by another -- a maidservant often washed her back when she had bathed at home but that was all. Ubrik was quite thorough and took his time, caressing every inch of her, a happy smile on his face. She jumped and blushed wildly when he washed her inner thighs and then her pussy and between her ass cheeks, and he touched them all twice, once to soap them and then again -- after rinsing her off with a couple of buckets of water -- when he dried her with a ragged cloth to make sure all the soap residue was gone from her flesh. "Ah, this is a true beauty," he murmured. He bade her bend over and she complied, staying bent at the waist while he washed her hair and then used a coarse-bristled brush on it.
When Ubrik announced he was done, the guard took her by binding and hair again and marched her out into the center of the compound. Mortified, Sindrah looked up at the people on the platforms. There was no way they could miss her now, as she was swiftly bound to a large wheel. Nearby a young woman dangled from a post with her toes just off the ground, performing a writhing dance of pain as a man flogged her naked body. Over and over the helpless woman sobbed "I am a but a worthless slave, Doman! Doman, I am but a worthless slave!" A bit further away, an elderly noblewoman was inspecting three naked lads standing shoulder to shoulder, squeezing their buttocks, then coming around to weigh each of their cocks in her hand.
A pie-shaped section of the wheel had been removed, allowing Ubrik to come up between her legs. Sindrah strained helplessly against her bindings, trembling and hot with embarrassment. "Now let us make certain you are a virgin," said the old man, touching her fully exposed pussy.
"Oh nooooo!" she sobbed piteously, staring down the length of her body at him. "Pl-please, don't. I am! I am a virgin! I-I swear it!" But with great relish Ubrik was already spreading her soft labial folds with the fingertips of both hands, exposing her glistening pink vagina. He spread her more, her tiny little hole opening wider, and then he ran a fingertip slowly round the opening. Sindrah squeezed her eyes shut and put her head down and sobbed, so appalled was she to be examined like this in front of so many.
"Ahhhhh," crooned Ubrik as he touched the delicate membrane shaped like a half-moon "There it is!" And then he yelped in surprise and the guard guffawed, seeing the old man ejaculating gobs of semen that oozed down the thick post to which the wheel was secured.
In that instant Chard boomed "Stand aside!" and Ubrik stumbled away at the approach of the beefy slavemaster, who was accompanied by Moran and a dark-haired, broad-shouldered man of middle age clad in a tunic of fine white cloth, sewn with golden thread and adorned with a broad scarlet stripe across the shoulders. His belt was be-jeweled and made, like his boots, of the red leather for which Wolfrune was famous.The crowd on the platforms grew quiet as this man strode eagerly to the wheel and stood gazing down at Sindrah.
"You are certain she is Rycard Greve's daughter, Moran?" he rasped.
"Since Greve sent his waysmen to retrieve her I am fairly certain," replied the slaver.
"Yes, yes. A shame you lost the other. But this one will do for my purposes." He walked around to Sindrah's head and stroked her hair, intensely studying her face a moment before his gaze swept over her spread-eagled body. "Yes, she has her mother's features," he murmured. Sindrah watched his face transformed into a cruel mask of violent emotion. She was too terrified at that moment to wonder how this man, whom she assumed was Tycho Bellam, Prince of Wolfrune, knew what her mother looked like. "You remind me of my betrothed of so many years ago, snatched from loving embrace by your father. He changed my life forever." He bent down, putting his face closer to hers, and she felt his hot breath as he added, coldly, "And now I will change YOUR life -- andhis-- forever."
He went round the wheel and up between her legs. Chard turned, arms raised and shouted in a booming voice that captured the attention of all. "Heed me! Bear witness as our Prince indulges himself with this virgin slave!"
Sindrah strained wildly against the ropes that bound her, eyes wide, the color draining from her face, panting as panic overwhelmed her. "No-no-noooooo! Pl-please nooooo!" -- shrill cries that reached all corners of the compound and elicited some laughter from the crowd, this followed by a lusty cheer as Tycho freed his cock from the loincloth beneath his tunic and, gripping Sindrah's hips, plunged it to the balls inside her pussy. Sindrah's slender body arced, sleek arm and leg muscles flexed, her head falling back. At the joining, Tycho was rigid and still, his head rolling back too, a look of rapture on his face as he felt Sindrah's pussy spasm and grip his cock. For a heartbeat they were as statues of living flesh fused together. And then Tycho began to thrust, hard, deep, using the tight slick vise of her cunt to stroke his throbbing manhood. A handful of men on one platform began grunting loudly in time with Tycho's thrusts, and this quickly spread until it seemed half the onlookers were doing likewise.
Hot tears of shame spilled from Sindrah's eyes as Tycho raped her. She had harbored romantic fantasies of giving herself for the first time to someone she loved or at least was attracted to, as in the case of Andor. But now that dream was destroyed. She fell into such a state of abject misery and embarrassment that after the initial reaction of her body she lay there limply, sobbing disconsolately, her bare breasts bouncing with the violent, lustful rhythm of Tycho's thrusts. His plunging cock stretched her young pussy so that soon it hurt less, but she did not even experience that shameful swirl of tingling heat she'd felt when Ordis had touched her clit the day before.
Tycho frowned as he took note of how unresponsive she had become and paused, the full length of his cock buried inside her. He took her listlessness personally, and slapped her thigh hard, and then again, and a third time. With each blow she yelped, writhing, straining against the ropes. "Ah, better," he said and resumed, his balls swinging against the underside of her ass. His hand slid over her mound, his thumb finding her exposed nub of pleasure, and he grinned as her body jerked. "Come now, slave, the people want a good show!" and proceeded to rub her clit relentlessly.
Now she began to feel that tingling hot swirl! Her eyes widened as it quickly spread, waves of pleasure surging through her. She was mortified because it seemed that Tycho had seized control of her body, because she could not stop writhing -- the sensations swiftly became too intense to do anything else -- while her cries became more breathless, rising in pitch. The pleasure frightened and shamed her as much as the humiliation of being raped in public. "Ahhhh that's it!" shouted an exultant Tycho. "Her hungry little quish is grabbing my cock now!" and he picked up the pace, grunting with pleasure and exertion as he rammed his engorged member into her soaking-wet pussy, the shaft slick and gleaming with her juices and his pre-cum.
While most of the spectators on the platforms were unable to hear Tycho's exultant words, the excitement of the crowd intensified as they saw Sindrah become animated. The way she jerked and twisted and quivered and the sounds she made encouraged Tycho to an even more enthusiastic drilling of her pussy. Each thrust intensified and quickened the waves of exquisite sensations that enveloped her. Though she had sometimes touched herself to the point of climax, what Sindrah experienced now was far more extreme than what she had felt on those occasions -- so extreme that it alarmed her.
Tycho's rock-hard member was rubbing that secret spot on the roof of her vagina with each thrust, but she had no idea that such a spot existed. Her hips were bucking, rocking, and she couldn't have stilled them had she tried. Her ass was slapping softly against the broad circle of wood that formed the hub of the wheel. She felt rivulets of her juices trickling over her rosebud. Her eyes began to glaze, and her awareness of the crowd, of Chard and Moran, of everything but that cock plumbing the depths of her gripping, gushing pussy faded away. Suddenly her body went rigid, arching, and then she flopped wildly in the restraints, a guttural wail issuing from her lips as the orgasm gripped and shook her. This the crowd all around the compounddidhear, and their cheers were deafening.
Now Tycho's every thrust caused an explosion of unbearable ecstasy followed by the euphoria of release. His grip on her hips tightened and with a shout he emptied his balls into her clenching cunt. He remained still for a moment, chest heaving, cock flexing inside her, and then pulled out and walked round the wheel to her head. He used her long hair, which hung down between the spokes, to clean his cock before stuffing it back into his loincloth. He bent over, his face quite close to hers, and she stared up at him, dazed and panting.
"Tomorrow you will have one final choice to make in your life," he promised, relishing the shame and hopelessness in her eyes. Abruptly he straightened and barked at Chard. "Until the morning she is to be put on display outside the gate of this compound, under guard. Then you will bring her to me." He approached Moran and placed a pouch in the slaver's hand. "Ten gold talons," said the Prince of Wolfrune. "Bring me Greve's other daughter and you will have ten more." Then he left the compound, acknowledging with a raised hand the applause of the crowd.