Damsels in Distress Read online

Elen trembled under his intense scrutiny. She had been naked before such hungry eyes before, but never shaven like this, and it made her feel more vulnerable, more exposed. Awareness of his switch, which seemed to writhe like something alive in his tanned hands, only made her feel even more bare. She gripped the chain that linked her wrists together tightly, to try to stop her hands from trembling, but she could do nothing to prevent the blush that suffused her cheeks.

  ‘The barbarian bitches cleaned up pretty well,’ Paulus said at last, in a slightly strained voice. ‘Cooked and plucked and ready to be fucked!’

  He chuckled, but Elen did not join him.

  ‘All right,’ he said, as if with effort, ‘take them to the Lady Lavinia. Our ladyship is eager to entertain our guests.

  Although her stay at the new villa had been short, Elen had heard plenty about Lady Lavinia – too much for her liking.

  ‘Don’t complain of our Lord Arrius,’ Zenobia, the beautiful black girl, had said as she smoothed ointment into Elen’s sore buttocks. ‘The master may be rough, but he is not especially cruel. He only slaps to bring us into… condition.’

  The remark caused a ripple of merriment to run around the slave girls’ quarters.

  ‘But Paulus says that our Lady Lavinia is coming,’ Zenobia had continued, and that stopped the giggling instantly.

  ‘Do you know when she’s arriving?’ Petra asked in an anxious whisper.

  Zenobia had shrugged. ‘Perhaps two weeks, Paulus said, but perhaps the pig was just trying to frighten me.’

  ‘He has frightened me,’ Zana grumbled, with a shiver. ‘Look to your barbarian hides,’ she added, addressing Elen and Gwyn. ‘When our lady gets bored she likes to amuse herself with… games.’

  ‘Bitter games, for slave girls,’ Zenobia had said, looking into Elen’s eyes. ‘Alas she got bored easily in Rome.’

  There was a little chorus of gasps.

  ‘That is right,’ Petra put in, ‘I had not thought of that. If she was bored in Rome, what will she be like in this godforsaken wilderness?’

  ‘Your ladyship, the barbarian slaves!’ Paulus announced, self-importantly.

  Elen stood next to Gwyn and kept her head bowed, trying not to tremble as she felt Lavinia’s gaze stroke her barely veiled form.

  ‘So, this is what has been amusing my husband these last months?’ The voice was arch but more melodic than Elen had expected. ‘Well, they might not be exactly elegant, but I suppose curves have their place.’

  As she kept her gaze downcast, Elen was only aware of the woman moving into the periphery of her vision. Lavinia moved like a cat, rolling from her couch and moving towards the waiting slave girls like a lynx stalking its prey.

  ‘What is your name?’ she demanded, standing in front of Gwyneffyr.

  ‘Gwyneffyr of… ah!’

  Elen could see the woman’s crimson talons take hold of one of the dark-haired girl’s nipples through the film of silken cloth.

  ‘You are a slave, you barbarian filth. One simple name will do you!’

  ‘I have told her, your ladyship. She is called Gwen.’

  ‘She was called Gwen, you mean, Paulus. You should have whipped it into her. Obviously shortening her free name has confused her. What shall I call her? Look how she trembles, Paulus, isn’t she a treat? She really is delicious. That’s it! From now on, my little savage, you are called Delicia. What is your name?’

  ‘D-Delicia… aooww!’

  Squinting sideways, Elen could see that Lavinia still gripped her companion’s nipple in her red talons, and saw the sudden vicious twist.

  ‘Delicia, mistress. Now, let’s try that again, shall we?’

  ‘Delicia… m-mistress,’ the black-haired girl managed with a sob.

  Elen saw the hand release her companion’s nipple. Then she felt cold braided leather lifting her chin, until she found herself looking into the feline green eyes of her new mistress. Lavinia was small and delicately pretty, with fine cheekbones and silky dark hair, coiled in an elegant coif. Half a head shorter than Elen, the woman held a vicious whip, brutally black against the cream material of her elegantly simple gown.

  ‘And what is your name, blondie?’ The woman smiled a cold and wicked smile, with no warmth in her glittering emerald eyes.

  ‘Elen, mistress,’ she managed, a little thickly, for her mouth was dry.

  ‘No, I think we’ll call you Flavia, for this hair. What is your name?’

  ‘Flavia, mistress,’ the blonde girl said quickly, eyes still fixed on the whip.

  ‘That is better. Delicia, learn from Flavia’s example.’

  The woman transferred the whip to her left hand, and reached up with her right, taking hold of the flaxen-haired slave’s left breast, her delicate hand having to spread to its fullest as she hefted the globe through its flimsy covering.

  ‘By Venus, but they breed them buxom in this wilderness. I swear this ones titties are even bigger than the other’s. Are all these she-slaves built like this, Paulus?’

  ‘No, mistress, this pair is quite atypical. It seems the druid that kept them had a liking for curvaceous maidens, and chose the most bounteously provided girls to serve him.’

  ‘Oh yes, Arrius mentioned their peculiar rituals. I would have thought in that case he would have been more interested in their rears.’ The woman released Elen’s breast.

  ‘Turn around and touch your toes,’ she snapped. ‘You too, Delicia.’

  Flavia, as Elen tried to think of herself, obeyed quickly. She bent and reached down, thighs quivering as she was all too aware of her nakedness and the whip in her mistress’s hand. But it was the other hand she felt first. She was patted, and then squeezed, and then she had to bite her bottom lip to stop herself from yelping as Lavinia’s talons pinched.

  ‘Well, I can see why he chose this one for his ceremonies,’ the woman said, with a wry chuckle. ‘It is amazing that her buttocks can be so generously proportioned and yet as firm as ripe melons.’

  ‘And still her waist is trim,’ Paulus put in.

  ‘You aren’t selling this merchandise, I already own it,’ Lavinia snapped. ‘You are right, however,’ she conceded as she pinched the flesh of the bent girl’s inner thighs. ‘Her waist is tiny and her legs are long and shapely. Is this a woman, Paulus, or a brothel painting? Look, by Venus, the other is almost as astonishing. These bottoms were surely created by some barbarian god, especially for the lash. Oh no, they worship trees, don’t they? Well then, created by the birch gods, for the rod!’

  There was no mistaking the note of tight excitement that had come into Lavinia’s voice as she perused the captives’ naked nether regions. ‘Flavia’ grasped her ankles and tried her best to keep breathing steadily.

  ‘Now, I want you savage sluts to keep quite still for a moment,’ Lavinia hissed, her voice distorted now with simmering excitement.

  Flavia closed her eyes and cringed. There was a brief, appalling pause, and then she heard the whip whistle and a dreadful snapping sound, and she heard Delicia gasp with pain.

  ‘No, stay in your position!’ Lavinia shrieked. ‘Don’t you dare disobey me, you piece of barbarian shit!’

  There was a desperate whimpering sound beside Flavia, and her heart seemed to stop. Then she heard the whistling sound again and pain sliced across her rear, and she heard a strange gurgling sound coming from the back of her own throat. Fighting desperately to cling to her own ankles, as the pain seemed to try to force her to jump up, she shook her bottom and jiggled her legs as if she could somehow shake out the unendurable sensation.

  ‘Their arses may be made for it, but they put on a poor show,’ said Lavinia, with a nasty chuckle. ‘Those druids did not train them to take their medicine well.’

  There was a brief and pregnant pause. Flavia could hear Delicia quietly sobbing, and her own heart beating. As the pain subsided in her bottom it began to twitch involuntarily in anticipation of another stroke of that wicked little whip.

  ‘But then,’ Lavinia continued quietly, ‘you haven’t trained them very well either, have you Paulus? Perhaps you are losing your touch and need a spell back in the ranks.’

  ‘I have not had time or permission,’ the major-domo burbled nervously.

  ‘No excuses. I shall consider your case later. I might just decide to have you flogged. I could sell you to one of the tribunes who are going on the Caledonian campaign. Then again, I may break you back to the lowest kitchen slave. Let even the lowest drudge have dominion over you. I think you might enjoy that, with all the friends you must have made amongst the female household slaves.’

  There was another pause as everyone, even Flavia preoccupied as she was by the vulnerability of her naked bottom, thought of the implications. The chance to avenge herself on Paulus was almost too appealing to be hoped for.

  ‘Please, mistress, anything…’ Paulus mumbled in a terrified whisper.

  ‘Silence! You may go. Send Zenobia to me.’

  The brief, welcome distraction was well and truly over. Flavia felt her thighs tremble and her bottom flinched and clenched convulsively, waiting for another stroke of the whip. But it did not come. Instead she heard the footsteps of her mistress move towards her. Then the hand began to stroke her inner thighs, slowly moving up.

  ‘So soft,’ Lavinia’s voice said huskily. ‘For a barbarian your flesh is extraordinarily tender.’ The fingers moved up in lazy circles. ‘All the better to appreciate my toys.’ The woman chuckled, and Flavia tried not to moan aloud as the cunning fingers met her nether lips.

  ‘What’s this?’ the woman mocked. ‘But Flavia, you are sopping wet, girl. How extraordinary. Is this fountain gushing in response to my caresses, or those of my whip?’

  ‘I – I don’t know… mistress,’ Flavia managed somehow, speaking nothing but the truth.

  ‘Well, that is pleasurable for me, but unfortunate for you. Do you know why, slave?’

  ‘N-no, mistress.’

  The stroking stopped and Lavinia leant forward, wiping her wet fingers in Flavia’s luxuriant blonde hair, and then bending to murmur into the slave girl’s ear. ‘It is because if you get excited about a few spanks and strokes, it is hardly a punishment, is it? When you need to be disciplined, I’ll have to make sure you get a real imperial flogging. No good you enjoying it, is there, you wicked little slut?’

  Lavinia did not seem to expect an answer to her own rhetorical question, and Flavia was happy to keep her mouth shut. The woman’s threat had sent cold thrills of fear straight through her. Yet, that fear only seemed to increase the sensations that smouldered in her loins.

  Thankfully, the feline beauty moved on to Delicia, so Flavia concentrated on breathing steadily and tried to keep quite still.

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Did I ask you to speak?’

  ‘No, mistress.’

  There was another slapping sound and another gasp of discomfort.

  ‘Silence is golden, Delicia. Be quiet or I shall have to have you gagged.’

  Flavia could not see what was happening, but she could guess, and soon her guess was confirmed.

  ‘Blessed Minerva, I believe you are even wetter than the other. For heaven’s sake, girl, it is running down the insides of your thighs!’

  ‘Ooooh…’

  ‘I did say be silent, didn’t I?’

  ‘Oh please, mistress.’

  ‘Sluts like you should not be so tender down there. I’m barely pinching you. Jupiter only knows how much noise you will make when I introduce you to real pain.’

  Flavia tried to swallow, but found she did not have enough saliva. It was warm in Lavinia’s chamber and she felt the perspiration beading on her naked, bending form.

  ‘Zenobia, at last. You have kept me waiting, girl.’

  ‘I am humbly sorry, mistress.’ There was something strained in Zenobia’s velvety voice.

  ‘Well, I expect it was Paulus’s fault, but I will punish you later anyway. Have you missed me, girl?’

  ‘Yes, mistress.’

  ‘Liar,’ Lavinia chuckled. ‘You slave sluts have been having a fine old time away from me. I know how soft my husband is with you. You have become lazy, slack, and corrupt. You have all been spending days masturbating and drinking stolen wine, is that not the case?’

  ‘Yes, mistress.’

  Flavia was astonished and appalled at the way Zenobia, a proud and beautiful young woman, instantly admitted to these imaginary crimes. The black girl must have learnt the hard way not to contradict her mistress, the bending slave girl thought.

  ‘Well, I’ll punish all you sluts properly later, just to let you know that discipline has returned to the house of Arrius. Now strip, I want you to help me manage these two sweetmeats, but I need you naked in case I care to give you some lashes too. You do understand?’

  ‘Yes, mistress.’ Zenobia’s usually melodic tones were definitely tenser than usual. There was a rustling sound as the black slave girl disrobed.

  ‘I think we are ready for the entertainment to begin,’ Lavinia decreed.

  Delicia’s shaven pussy was inches from Flavia’s face. The dark-haired girl had been chained, strained into an X-shape, only the balls or her feet having contact with the marble dais on which she stood. Flavia knelt on that same marble platform, her wrists secured to the chain around the other’s narrow waist. Her head was lowered, because of the position she’d been made to kneel in; her thighs almost vertical and her back dipped so that her bottom was proffered, jutting up and back. It was almost as if she knelt in adoration of Delicia’s glistening cunt.

  ‘Lick her pussy lips,’ Zenobia said softly into Flavia’s ear. ‘Put your tongue between them and tease her. Lick her clit and make her writhe.’

  There was a click as Lavinia turned the little hourglass over. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘you may begin.’

  Flavia strained her head forward, smelling the fragrance of Delicia’s juices. The slave girl’s sex looked rosy and juicy, and the blonde tentatively began to lick, causing Delicia to moan.

  ‘I have told you before, I want you to be silent,’ Lavinia threatened.

  Flavia tried to concentrate on licking the hot sex lips that seemed to pulse in response to her tongue, and ignore the sound of her mistress’s light footsteps. But there was no ignoring the whistle of the whip or the explosive crack as the leather thong at its tip bit into the chained girl’s back. Delicia gasped with pain and bucked, grinding her engorged mons hard into Flavia’s face. The blonde girl gripped the other’s waist harder, in a doomed attempt to keep her still enough to carry on her task. She had two minutes to make Delicia climax. Delicia had the same amount of time to stave off her orgasm. The loser would receive a dozen strokes from the vicious black whip.

  ‘You’re running out of time, my angel,’ Lavinia’s voice cooed, thick with insincere concern. ‘Do you need some encouragement?’

  Still moaning with pain or pleasure, or perhaps some strange mixture of the two, Delicia stopped writhing enough for Flavia to return to her task, and she had just slipped her tongue between the other’s sex lips when the vicious whistling cut through the air again. The whip cracked across Flavia’s buttocks, cutting into the tender flesh. The pain was unbelievable, and for some seconds she had no idea what she was doing or even where she was. Blistering agony was her entire universe, but as the pain gradually began to subside she became aware of several things again. Her open mouth was clamped to Delicia’s cunt, so intensely that the other girl was shuddering and squealing, yet not so intensely that Flavia’s own shrieks were entirely muffled. From being everything and seemingly everywhere, the pain subsided to a throbbing, agonising stripe dividing her bottom from the tops of her thighs.

  As she relaxed her oral ministrations a little she realised that Delicia’s reactions were not diminishing, and in fact the chained slave girl seemed to be trying to grind herself even harder onto Flavia’s face. This should have given her relief, but there was a problem, for the sight of Delicia in paroxysms of pleasure seemed to be driving Lavinia into a sexual frenzy too.

  ‘How you barbarian bitches buck!’ the woman enthused, then there was a whooshing sound and the crack of leather on flesh again, and Delicia’s shrieking crept a little higher in pitch.

  There was another venomous whistle, and this time the thong caught Flavia across her thighs. She held onto the other slave’s waist for dear life as the pain exploded through her, and ground her mouth to Delicia’s gyrating cunt again.

  ‘Look at the slaves sweat,’ the woman sneered. ‘I have horses that don’t sweat so much after a gallop!’

  There was another whistle and another cry of pain from Zenobia. Then another swipe, and Delicia squealed even louder as the last convulsions shook her naked body.

  The next stroke inscribed a line of fire across Flavia’s bottom, and she could not suppress another shriek of pain. The only way to try to stop more protestations was to bite the front of Delicia’s thigh, which was slick with salty sweat.

  For a moment Flavia was again unsure of what was happening, but as the pain of the last stroke subsided she became gradually more aware of her surroundings. Delicia’s crisis had passed and the dark-haired girl was slumped in her bonds, moaning softly. Tasting sweat and cunt juice on her lips and tongue, Flavia looked around cautiously. Zenobia was standing to one side, sobbing quietly, but there were gasped obscenities coming from elsewhere.

  Lavinia was sprawled on a couch, her gown pulled up and her legs parted. The whip was gripped in both hands, and she was grinding it with a feral fury into her sex. Flavia watched astonished as the woman cursed and snarled, her lithe body thrashing around on the couch like a creature possessed.

  ‘Oh yes, these are the bodies for this sport.’ Lavinia perused her victims with a chuckle.

  Flavia looked into Delicia’s eyes. It was terrible, because she was sure that she saw her own fear reflected back. The girl who had been Gwen had beautiful brown eyes, but Flavia had never seen them so wide and fearful. Perhaps the gag made it seem worse, as it forced the dark girl’s mouth open and distorted her expression. Both girls had been gagged before Zenobia trussed them up, ready for their whipping. They stood on tiptoe, iron bracelets and chains hauling their arms towards the ceiling. They were chained facing one another, their waists and legs bound together with a cord so tight and thin that it bit into their flesh. The position meant that Flavia’s pussy was moulded to Delicia’s, their breasts cushioned together too.

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