Two weeks later, the Barbarian fleet - or rather, the bulk of it - was on the high seas, heading East towards where this land of Sythia was supposed to lie. It was divided into two parts. A reconnaissance f***e and the main fleet under the command of Captain Varian. He, following the pleasures of his leave in Nexos, felt fighting fit. Flavia was certainly a memory to take away. When he got back - victorious - he planned to ask Princess Alexena if he could add her to his personal slave entourage. It would be a fitting reward for his services and she was unlikely to refuse.
There was a good westerly wind and sails were set so, to begin with, the oars were not used and the galley-slaves had an easy time of it. Relatively, that is. For, whether the oars were in use or not, the naked slaves were shackled to their oars (two to an oar) down in the holds of each vessel. In the larger vessels, like Captain Varian’s flagship, ‘The Taurus’, there were two banks of oars, an upper and a lower. There were ten oars on each side of the ship: thus, at any one time, there were forty galley slaves in each hold. Their spells of duty were four hours on and eight hours off, regardless of whether they were being used or not.
As was traditional in the Barbarian fleet, the overseer in charge of each hold of male galley slaves was a woman. Conversely, when women galley slaves were used — in the lighter boats of the Princess and her Ladies on the lakes - there was always a male overseer.
These women overseers of the fleet were sometimes ladies of quality but not necessarily so. All were volunteers and, needless to say, had a liking for making males sweat their guts out. And for laying a whip across male flesh!
The overseers in ‘The Taurus’ were both ladies of quality, as befitted such a famous ship, and personal friends of the Captain. In charge of the upper hold was Lady Helen, in charge of the lower was Lady Livia. Both were Amazonian in build ... tall, broad-shouldered, big-breasted, strong in the arms and thighs. Rather disconcerting for a man; terrifying to a galley-slave!
Lady Helen, with a mass of long, blonde hair, was accustomed to dress herself in a short, white tunic-style dress and calf-length white boots. Lady Livia, as dark as Lady Helen was fair, was less conventional. Unless it were very cold, she went naked, except for a pair of black leather, thigh-length boots. When she was not prowling the cat-walk between her charges, she sat where all could gaze with longing or loathing (or perhaps both!) upon her statuesque nudity.
After four days, the fleet passed through what was once known as the Dardenelles and proceeded into what used to be called the Black Sea.
Some expeditions had been made in this direction before, but none had proceeded more than a few hundred miles. There were few islands to be raided and the main coastline seemed unoccupied. There was no point in unprofitable expeditions so the area, known as the Eastern Sea, was rather unknown territory.
Once through the Straits, the wind dropped.
“Oars,” ordered Captain Varian. The word was passed through the ship and a signal flag run up.
The two female overseers received it with some pleasure. Neither of them liked being idle. Both hurried to their stations.
In the lower hold, all eyes gazed in fear and fascination as Lady Livia entered and stood naked, with hands on hips, on a small platform facing the filled benches. In high-heeled boots she towered, six feet six inches of voluptuous female flesh.
“Right, you bastards,” she said, noting with satisfaction the lust and terror in so many watching eyes, “you’ve had it all too easy. Now you’re going to be put to work. And you’ll work till you drop, if need be. I’ll see to that.”
From the planking behind her, she took down the whip which hung there. A slim, six-foot snake of plaited rhino-hide. Deadly! A shudder seemed to ripple through the benches. Most of those chained to the oars were new to this kind of slavery. Only the strongest survived more than three or four such expeditions. Many did not survive one. But what did it matter? There was always plenty of male slave labour available. Thanks to Captain Varian and his raiding fleets.
The sound was like a clap of lightning, filling every heart with dread. From above, faintly, came a similar sound. Lady Helen was also impressing her charges with her authority.
“Ship out the oars,” came a bellowed order from the upper deck.
Out they went. Each slave bent forward, taking the strain. It was the beginning of four hours of back-breaking toil.
“Stroke rate to be 20,” came another bellow.
That was twenty strokes to the minute... which may not seem much... but is, in fact, quite rapid for a heavy oar. There came the tap on a drum, situated between the levels of the two holds. In Lady Livia’s hold, forty pairs of arms pulled, forty backs strained, similarly so in the hold above. Forty oars propelled ‘The Taurus’ forward. To port and starboard, bow waves began to cream the lines of vessels.
It was a gallant display. A heart-warming sight.
If you were a Barbarian, that is!
Lady Livia seated herself on a chair on her observation platform. She drew up one foot and placed it on the edge of the chair. Her thighs parted a little... so that she was displayed to all. She liked the thought of those brutes before her lusting away, knowing she was unattainable. Perhaps some of them would soon find the iron rings they wore cutting into their sensitive flesh. So much the better!
She toyed with her whip, enjoying its oily suppleness. Running her fingers along the last eighteen or so inches of it, she wondered what it must actually be like to have that cracking across one’s flesh. Exceedingly unpleasant! She gave a little shiver at the idea. Never, of course, in her life ever having had a finger laid on her. She experienced a warm glow and felt her pulses a little faster at the thought of the power she wielded and the dread she inspired.
After about a quarter of an hour, she got up and moved slowly along the cat-walk. At this stage, with the slaves fresh, there should be no need for the whip. It was during the last hour it was used most. She examined each pair intently. All were young and strong, as they had to be for galley-slave duties. Some seemed quite handsome, even though every head was shaved to the skull. Lady Livia, with some amusement, noted the sizes of the varied organs on display. Some long and slim; some shorter and thicker; some both long and thick. Each one was encased in a heavy iron ring, three inches long, placed just behind the phallic head. They are no longer real men, she thought, they are just hulks of flesh and muscle to be used until they drop.
Lady Livia was well aware, though, that any one of these slaves could - temporarily - become a real man again, by removal of the ring. Some owners, who were of that inclination, used their male slaves for sexual purposes. She had done so herself on occasions, but she did not make too much of a habit of it, for she considered it undermined household discipline to some extent. Such slaves were generally sold or disposed of fairly quickly if they had been used in this fashion. On board ship, though, it was different. There was no household. She was a free agent. Lady Livia made a second tour of her charges, noting the most promising. Those well-hung. Being a big woman, she liked a big man.
She looked at the rippling muscles of backs and biceps. Hers to drive to the limit. Another glow of pleasure. Once these men had been soldiers or sailors. Proud warriors. Now they were in her power.
Suddenly, Lady Livia noted one man not pulling his full length. He seemed to be some six inches short on the swing. Perhaps it was accidental. But perhaps he was trying to take it just that little bit easy, so that the last hour would be somewhat less arduous.
He was not going to get away with that!
The black whip snaked out and fell across rippling flesh. A gasping wail of shock and pain echoed up. Obviously the man had not expected to feel the whip at this stage.
“Put your back into it, you lazy swine!” yelled Lady Livia, in most unladylike fashion. “Pull... pull right through with it!”
At once, the man lengthened his stroke, to pull his full weight. He had indeed been trying to take it a little easy, hoping it would go undetected. Now he knew better. The thick weal across his back was a throbbing flame.
“I’ll be watching you,” said Lady Livia, moving down the cat-walk.
A sickness of dread filled the slave. What a fool he had been. Now, for even the most minor failings, he would feel that whip again!
With satisfaction Lady Livia noted, as she strolled back to her seat, every slave seemed to be making just that bit more effort. No doubt at all, just the sound of her whip falling had stimulated them mightily!
By the end of that four-hour spell, there was not a slave in Lady Livia’s hold who had not felt her whip. Some just once or twice, others maybe a dozen times. That was her policy. To introduce herself emphatically the very first time the oars were used. To establish her complete authority at once. To make it clear from the outset that only the maximum effort was good enough.
Two of the galley slaves had collapsed. They would be dealt with later. Probably flogged into insensibility and then tossed overboard. If that were the case, they might, in the end, turn out to be the lucky ones. Their back-breaking toil would have been brief.
Was life worth all that much!
Surely not, when one was a slave!
As the slaves were being unchained and replaced, one by one, Lady Livia made a note of the brand-mark of the slave she had picked out earlier. As with all slaves, it was at the top of his right arm, just below the shoulder curve. ‘MM169’, it read. Then she went below and took a bath in her cabin. Another female overseer took her place for the next four-hour stint.
If I want him, she thought with satisfaction, I can have him any time. Just send for the brute. But there wouldn’t be much point at that moment. Like the rest of them, he must be exhausted. Lady Livia smiled contentedly as a slave-girl eased scented oil over her big breasts. Life was very good!
Some three hours later, a sl**ping slave was startled to be awakened by a boot kicking him in the ribs. He raised himself off the hard planking on which he lay, the chains which held him clanking.
What was this?
“Up, you!” Came the gruff voice of a guard. A light was shone on his brand. “This is the one.” A guffaw. “Some are lucky. And you can see why!”
“Yeh... I can see. If you call it lucky. Don’t think I’d care for it like that.”
“Better than nothing...”
What were they talking about? What was happening? The chains were removed and fell to the floor heavily.
Stiff and weary, the slave - whose name was Landor -staggered out of the hold in which the galley slaves were kept. That was a relief anyway. He sucked in the cool night air gratefully. How long had he been asl**p, he wondered? He did not feel properly rested yet. Surely it was not to go back to the oars again!
“Step on to that!”
As a slave, one did not query such orders. One obeyed them at once. Landor found himself standing on some netting. Instantly, it was pulled up around him and he realized the netting was attached to a crane-like device. Snared helpless, he was hoisted up, then, to his horror lowered over the side of the ship.
He uttered a yell of terror.
Was this the end then? By drowning?
Ah well then... so be it. Death would be preferable to a life on the oar. Surely? Rest. Peace. Silence. Surely?
But by drowning, trapped in a net?
Landor tried not to panic as the water approached. Oh these monsters, why could they not let a man die with honour? Not like this... like a rat! He uttered a final, futile cry as the cold waters closed over his head. There was a roaring in his head as he prayed to what gods he knew to make it swift.
He was holding his breath. But was there any point? It was sheer instinct. Then, just when his lungs seemed about to burst, to his amazement he was lifted out of the water again. Dripping, sucking in air in huge gulps. Oh the joy of that!
Then he was lowered again... and the process was repeated.
Fury filled Landor. Those two were playing with him. Like a cat with a mouse. The swine! They were playing games with him before they finally drowned him!
Once more Landor was dunked into the sea... and this time for longer. He came out retching and spouting water. Then he was hauled back on to the deck where he lay like a stranded fish.
“Her Ladyship likes the sweat and stink washed off them,” said a voice.
“Naturally,” came another.
The boot into his side again. “Get up, pig meat.”
Landor f***ed himself up. After four months of varying kinds of degrading servitude, he had become somewhat used to this kind of treatment. What worried him, however, was whether he could survive the galleys. He was a strong man, but even he had his limits. “Move!”
Landor walked between them along the deck. Then down a companionway. They entered carpeted passageway. Obviously first-class quarters. They stopped at a door. One of the guards knocked. Looking down, Landor saw sea-water from his body dripping to the floor.
It was a woman’s voice. His nerves flared. Then one of the guards opened the door and he was propelled into a cabin by a boot up his backside .
He stumbled... fell... sprawled. Behind him the door closed. What was happening? Landor shook his head, then pushed himself up. To his shocked amazement he saw, reclining on a couch, the naked figure of his galley overseer. In her hand was a golden goblet and she was smoking some kind of aromatic herb. Her eyes were a little unfocussed, it seemed to him. Landor experienced pangs of dread... yet a strange undercurrent of excitement.
“Get up... and come here.” The voice was hard and cold. One used o being obeyed immediately. Landor got up and moved in front of the woman. He was fascinated by her statuesque beauty, particularly the size of her breasts. Only slowly was it beginning to dawn on him why he was there. He did not know whether to be glad or sorry.
“Did you feel my whip today?” came the question.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he answered in proper servile fashion.
Lady Livia nodded. “Let me tell you, slave, if you do not do exactly as I wish... if you do not please me... you will feel it a great deal more. Is that understood?”
“Yes... Ma’am...” Landor answered feebly. He knew this woman could give him infinite pain if she wished. She had absolute power of life and death over him. There was nothing to do but submit as best he could.
Humiliating as it was.
Bitter as it was.
The woman took hold of the iron ring about his penis and tugged him closer. It hurt. And it was frightening to feel so much at her mercy. Then a key went into the ring. There was a click ... and the iron ring opened and fell away. The relief was intense. Like all women in the hierarchy, Lady Livia held a ‘Master Key’ which could open the rings of any slave.
Landor found his organ being tugged again. He knew he was a big man who had found favour in many women’s eyes.
“How long since you used this, slave?” came the question.
Landor couldn’t remember. He had been used by a considerable number of women when he first became a slave but, since being trained for the galleys, there had been nothing.
“Five... or six... weeks, Ma’am,” he answered.
“That’s no good to me. You’ll shoot too soon.”
The woman looked a shade angry. Landor felt intensely nervous. The woman drank deep. Landor’s nervousness increased.
“Toss yourself off,” she ordered suddenly.
Landor was startled but, as a slave, scarcely hesitated. Anyway, it was a relief after so much restriction. Quickly he came to erection. It was a big erection and he saw this overseer woman’s eyes hot upon it. Again and again the goblet went to her mouth as he wanked himself hard.
One did not often get such opportunities. Best to make the most of them! She had been right. In no time at all, with hand working hard, he came to the boil. Groaning, sagging down to his knees, Landor unleashed himself.
By the gods, that had been good, he thought, as he knelt there, head bowed. It had been shaming to do such a thing on the orders of a woman in front of woman but it had been a great relief.
“You will tongue me, slave,” came the order. “And you will tongue me good. Otherwise you’ll feel that whip. Understood?”
Landor suppressed what remnants of male pride he had. This was better than being chained to the boards in a stinking hold. He crawled forward and inserted himself between the strong white thighs. They parted further to accommodate him. There, right before him, was the big, black bushy triangle. He went down, his mouth was enveloped in the hairs. His lips found other lips. Wet, warm lips. Eager lips. His tongue thrust. From above, came a low moan. His nostrils were filled with the sensual scent of this all-powerful woman. The woman he had to serve as she wished. As she dictated. His tongue thrust again. And again. And again. He felt the clitoris firming. The moans above intensified.
Lady Livia came to her first orgasm quite quickly... but then she was a long time building up to the second. Landor stayed down to her, tonguing assiduously, for what seemed an age... but was probably about ten minutes. Ever and anon, the strong white thighs would clamp to his cheeks and he thought she was about to climax. But then the thighs would relax again. Not a word was spoken. He was just a male ‘thing’, there to service her. The only sounds, in fact, apart from his strongly lapping tongue, were Lady Livia’s repeated low moans of pleasure.
By the time the Junoesque body began to shudder and jerk again as the second climax at last approached, Landor found himself in full erection once more. Oh what a joy to be in that state! To be free of that hideous iron ring! To be a man again!
“Aaaaahhhh ... hhhaaaahhhhhhh ... hhhaaaahhh ...”
Lady Livia’s haunches were jerking uncontrollably. She twisted from side to side. Yet, by a tremendous effort, Landor managed to keep his tongue positioned... and thrusting. He knew she would want that.
The climax was prolonged and powerful... and this big woman whimpered like a little kitten in her delight. That delight was enhanced by the thought of the big cock she was shortly to enjoy! When the spasm was at last over, Landor went on tonguing. He had had no orders to do otherwise. However, he found his head pushed brusquely away. He knelt there, seeing her soft white belly rising and falling, hearing her heavy breathing, just waiting to see if the services of his mouth and tongue were required again. As a slave, that was all he could do. Dare do.
He knew that the threat about the whip was no idle one.
This woman, between whose thighs his head remained, could whip to death if she so wished!
Slowly the minutes ticked away. Lady Livia’s heavy breathing gradually subsided. Landor remained solidly in erection. Some ten inches of thickly-girthed manhood.
“Get up!” The command curt and callous.
Landor stood and saw Lady Livia eyeing his weapon with lustful appreciation. She got up from the couch and pointed to it. “Lie down there,” she ordered.
Feeling his excitement mounting, Landor stretched out. It was a long time since he had felt woman-flesh. The big melon breasts, with strong dark brown nipples, swung over his face. Brushed it even. Of course, he dare not touch them without an order. He was being straddled. He tensed as a hand got hold of his hard root. This was it! Hot, wet sex lips slid back and forth along his knob.
Then Lady Livia sank slowly down upon him.
“Aaaaahhhhhhhh...” she sighed happily as she felt the size of him going right up into her. Her big soft buttocks settled on Landor’s flanks as she savoured him to the full. “Aaaaahhhh...” she sighed again. But there was no word of appreciation. Of praise or approval. He was simply being used. Rather like a living dildo.
“If you shoot before I give the word, I’ll flog the hide off you.” said Lady Livia callously. “Understood, slave?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” answered Landor, and gritted his teeth. This was not going to be easy. This was not for his pleasure but for hers. This was going to be a terrible test of will and endurance, he realized. For she had been a long time coming to her second orgasm. Was it possible she would be even longer coming to the third? If so, he was lost. He could never survive.
Slowly at first, Lady Livia began to ride him, her nails cutting cruelly into his biceps. Her soft bottom bounced and bounced on his hard flanks. He could feel her passage wet, warm and very eager.
After about a minute, Lady Livia was riding considerably faster... and grunting rather like a man does when he enjoys a woman. Faster yet...
Landor began to have hope.
It must be the size of me that is turning her on so fast, he thought happily.
“Ooohh... hhhaaahhhh... ooohhhh... you... g-great big... brute!” panted Lady Livia, her breasts now crashing to Landor’s face. He drank in the womanly scent of her; revelled in her lushness. Some woman! And she made no secret of the fact that she loved a fuck! Faster yet...
Thump... thump... thump... thump.. thump... thump! Oh that big bouncing bottom!
„Brute... oooh... brute... HHHAAAHHH... b-brute... OOOOOHHH... what a cock... OOOHHHHHHH!“
Landor realized that Lady Livia, surprisingly, must be fast approaching another climax. He must be ready. It would be as bad not to unleash himself when ordered as to do so too soon.
„It’s... hhhaaaahhhh... it’s m-mine... it’s... mine... HHHHAAAAHHHH... OOOHHHHH... what a fuck!” she was beginning to jerk and shudder uncontrollably.
Yes... she was coming all right.
Landor working himself also (and it wasn’t difficult!) awaited the word.
“Sh-shoot... you brute... sh-sh-shooooo... ooootttt!” cried Lady Livia in a high-pitched, almost girlish squeal.
And shot... And shot...
With Lady Livia squealing her joy even louder, whilst she squirmed ecstatically down upon him.
I’ve done my duty, thought Landor with intense relief.
I’ve satisfied her utterly.
There was no way of denying it.
What’s more, he thought with a faint, complacent little grin, I’ve had a fuck myself!
It need hardly be said that Lady Livia showed no gratitude. She gave no favours for favours done to her. Indeed, her whip fell frequently across Landor’s back on the following day as he bent to the oar. Far more frequently than need be, he realized.
She is telling me that, for all the pleasure I gave her, I am still only a pig of a sweating slave. However, as Landor gritted his teeth and endured the blazing pain with no more than a grunt, he comforted himself with the thought that he had seen and heard her Ladyship in complete abandon. No longer completely in control. Indeed, quite out of control!
And, he suspected, he would see her in that state quite often in the future.
And, in that, Landor was perfectly correct!