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From the Journal of Sir Sefyllian.
"At the Feast of Lord Eilun"
By Ranbarth of Dusain
(Note: The following chapter is extracted from the memoirs of the mercenary knight Sir Sefyllian of Meithder.
In this episode, the lusty wanderer is entertained by one of his current patron's vassals, Lord Eilun.)
On that evening, I was the guest at Lord Eilun's feast table. It was draped in a cloth of brilliant whiteness and
set out with the costliest plate and enameled porcelain. At the outset, His Lordship referred to a prisoner of
war who would be brought forth to enhance the evening's entertainment, but thereafter avoided any reference to
the enemy warrior until the meal was done. Then, with the hour growing late, he snapped his fingers and gave orders
in the language of the land, which I only imperfectly understood.
Two servants entered, wheeling in a round platform like a truncated barrel. When arranged on the marble floor under
a beam, it resembled a speaker's stand some twelve inches high. A rope was attached to the beam above and I saw
for the first time that the latter was not part of the roof-structure. It could be raised or lowered.
A pair of musicians with flute and tambourine came next and sat cross-legged before the little pedestal. There
was also two of the lord's servant boys, little fellows with bare feet and knowing smiles, who carried a variety
of implements. Last of all they brought in one introduced to us as Sir Pendro, a Ruk-wench. A pair of guards, holding
her at either arm, led the prisoner forward. Pendro was from the city-state of Creigh, one of the leaders of the
Confederacy of Rhyddfraint, a combination formed specifically to repel my employer's - King Astrus' - rather blatant
aggressions. Eilun loathed everything that had to do with Creigh, and he especially hated its prominent families,
to one of which Sir Pendro apparently belonged.
This was my first close look at the transformed knight. I found her lovely, but since almost all serum girls are
lovely it would be pointless to say much more in that regard. Her fair hair was lustrous and her could have halted
a charge of lancers by bewitchment. The genetic material that had fashioned her present shape must have been of
the most rare quality.
Picture the scene, if you will. There at the richly laden table sat Lord Eilun and his guests, myself included.
Yet now all had turned to watch the drama unfolding. Pendro was dressed in nothing her knightly under-robe and
had been prepared in no other way, with no trace of either face paint nor pleasure silk to enhance her striking
beauty. This suggested, to me, at least, that she had been confined since transformation and left to ripen in solitude,
like an amphora of fine wine, and was therefore prepared in no way for the life of pleasure slavery for which she
was almost certainly intended.
I now saw that Lord Eilun had taken something from under the table. It was a beautifully made switching rod, some
three feet long and fashioned in black leather. At its handle the switch was thick as his thumb, yet it tapered
to a point that was no more than the tip of a stylus. He smiled cruelly at his bewitching captive.
"Get on to your dancing-stage, wench!" he said, laughing. "At once!"
"No!" There was a note of grim fatality in her refusal.
The two guards, as if they had done work similar to this before, hauled Pendro up and fastened her wrists above
her head by means of the rope that hung from the moveable beam. Then they attached her ankles by short chains to
a bolt at the center of the little platform on which she stood. The result of this was that the maid-who'd-been-a-knight
must now move her feet within a very limited area and was certainly not able to stretch them to the edge of the
circle on which she stood, as small as it was.
Pendro was, of course, watching us with a mixture of dismay and loathing. Her hatred for King Astrus and all his
creatures must have been equal to Eilun's hatred of her city. Lord Eilun got up and went across to stand in front
of his exquisite new slave.
'When the musicians begin to play, Pendro, you will dance for the entertainment of my guests," he said pleasantly.
"I have promised them the diversion of seeing a ex-son of Creigh perform so and I am a man of my word. See
to it that you writhe your torso and squirm your hips lasciviously, as you will soon learn to do while held in
a master's embrace."
"Never!" Pendro's cry rang across the room. She tugged and twisted in vain at the ropes and wrist-cuffs
that held her hands.
"Also," Eilun continued, "writhe your thighs as if you are imagining your lover's erection between
them. Remember, too, that some of your future lovers are watching you now. Therefore, I wish you to arch the small
of your back inwards and swell your derriere outwards. Bend over from time to time and roll the cheeks of it as
if you are inviting gair."
These preposterous instructions brought the hot paint of red anger to the young woman's face. Yet the thought of
Pendro made to do a lewd slave-girl dance greatly intrigued me. I wondered just how ripe she had become while confined
in the kennel of the lord. I wondered, too, how quickly she might be brought to ignition, once wrestled to helplessness
in the silks.
"I will not!" she cried in her fury. "I would rather die!"
The two musicians smiled at her and began to play the haunting cadences of the slave dance on flute and tambourine.
Pendro stood immobile. Lord Eilun at once nodded to the two little barefoot boys. Each of them took a slim stick
with a needle at its tip. It was just possible to see that the sharp metal had been coated with a yellowish substance.
"It is the venom of the swamp-hornet's sting," said the lord, acknowledging the curiosity of his guests,
"a most precious commodity and one which should be used only on such rare occasions as this!"
The first lad made a quick jab, the needle easily penetrating the robe material and entering the rear of Pendro's
thigh, just below her buttocks. Pendro gave a cry and started forward, just as though she had been tortured with
a hot coal. She bent her leg upward at the knee as far as she could, perhaps trying to contain the sting's agony
by this means. The second young devil now jabbed her in the opposite cheek and Pendro cried out again. I began
to squirm with the thought of how painful the savage sting must be. The swamp-hornet was a dreaded pest of these
hot lands. It rarely killed, unless the victim is stung hundreds of time, but its poison is excruciating if injected
under the skin. Interestingly, though, it seems to have been intended only to drive off a potential predator and
did not disable it for very long, nor create great welts or swelling.
Pleased thus far, Eilun gave a nod and Pendro's two young tormentors took a goad in each hand and fell upon her
energetically. The shackled maid cried out wildly as the hornet sting stabbed first one cheek of her bottom and
then the other. In the course of the torture, the boys' envenomed needles pierced hre flanks, the inner surfaces
of her thighs, and the broad young cheeks of Pendro's bottom.
She writhed wildly under this treatment, her buttocks clenching and arching, hips rolling, and thighs twisting
vainly in her ordeal. The tambourine player walked round and round her slowly, emphasizing the beat of the music
and matching her surging and writhing to his rhythm. She would have won no prize for her terpsichorean expertise,
yet by her hip squirming contortions, Pendro was - in sense -- dancing. The guests beat out the time on the table
with their hands while the boys continued pricking Pendro with the insect stingers.
Under the parting of her golden tresses the narrow blue eyes were wide in pain and rage, the stubborn lips distended
in a cry of outrage. One of the guards climbed on to the little platform behind her. He quickly freed her robe,
drew it off, and then ran his fingers over Pendro's full and fetching breasts until the globes were taut and her
nipples stiff. It appeared that the recently transformed serum-girl was very ripe indeed. The tonal hollowness
of her cursing rebukes suggested that she was already much more of a woman than she would have cared to admit to
a gathering such as ours.
Lord Eilun admonished her not to cease "dancing' as he called it, while she being stripped. Wary against inviting
further reprisals, Pendro was jigging her backside from side to side. Tiny red swellings, the size of a sovereign,
showed where the hornet stings had pricked her in a dozen places.
She looked back over her shoulder. The guards were slowly lowering the beam now, the effect of which was to make
Pendro bend forward more and more. We held our breaths. The blonde tresses of her head were bowed and her breasts
quivered with their own soft weight as they hung unsupported. To see a firmly developed young woman in this posture
is something to remember. Her lightly muscled legs were strained still more taut by such bending. Her buttocks
were being spread so that her rhadus as well her peren became visible.
Lord Eilun stood up and walked across to the little platform where his delectable slave was still writhing her
behind and squirming her thighs in the best manner she could. Smiling vindictively, the villain then raised his
long quivering slave-switch and brought it down across the lightly tanned cheeks of Pendro's backside. She yelped
and when her cry had died away, he said, "You shall dance to the rhythm of the whip now, my beauty!"
He thrashed her across her bottom-cheeks again and again, while she surged and twisted wildly in her new dance
of torment. With callous deliberation he used the slim black leather of the switch to whip her across the backs
of her thighs -- once, twice, and thrice.
The flute and tambourine still played and drowned Pendro's screams a little. Every movement of her body-every jerk
and contortion was ordained by the rule of the whip. How long he switched his finely tanned slave I do not know,
but it was not to be expected that he would tire of the enjoyment easily. At his command, the two boys held her
still so that he might give her the last dozen strokes across her backside solidly, with wicked precision and vigor.
Pendro's cries became more and more like girlish screams, seeming to falter. When the tension on the rope was released
and she was drawn upright, Pendro hung limply in her bonds, her head lolling to one side as if she had swooned
under the thrashing.
Then there occurred an incident so strange that the reader of my memoirs may not at first credit it. Yet I believe
that, on consideration, you will find it true. There stepped forward a young lash-slave pupil - Natar, as I heard
someone name her. Later on, I also heard it rumored that she was a Ruk-maid herself, one well accustomed to her
cruel master's bed. It was said that she had learned not resist any demand, not even the most perverse, but was
already becoming adept in teaching new slaves how to perform for a demanding master.
Natar stood before Pendro, her blue eyes darkened at the lashes and their lids painted smoky blue in the manner
of a pleasure wench.
"Make her open her legs!" she said to the warrior who had earlier stripped the ex-knight. Pendro heard
the order but, slumped exhausted in her bonds, was slow to obey. Lord Eilun himself came forward, raised his whip
and lashed it down. She cried wildly and opened her legs as far as she could, in terror of another such corrective
gesture. Natar, though her junior in years, thrust her hand between the bound girl's thighs.
"She's wet!" Natar said with a snigger. "I think she likes the switch!"
Nor was that all, for the little wanton spared Pendro nothing by way of hand play. With look of contempt she stimulated
the helpless victim's love lips, and then intruded her forefinger into Pendro's rhadus to the very knuckle.
"I think she could accommodate a male twyll very well," came the evil servant's judgment.
Soon it was the turn of one of the guards to be summoned up to initiate Pendro into the rites of lovemaking. The
girl's ankles were now fastened wide apart and the first lucky dog lay down on his back upon the little platform,
his erection pointing upwards. The servants slackened the rope by which Pendro's hands were held above her and
the young woman sank with the weight of her own exhaustion. Yet there were ready hands to guide her, so that she
came to her knees and impaled herself on the hard sinewy shaft, aided by the force of gravity.
She gave a shudder and a groan, compelled to straddle him on hands and knees. The fortunate fellow held her to
him and Pendro's own weight, as her hips slumped downward, obliged her to impale herself upon the fleshy weapon,
her moan of surrender audible to all. Natar, the most depraved of all the Ruk-girls present, walked slowly round
and round the little platform on which the act of love was now being performed. What a change had overtaken the
doughty knight of Creigh! Pendro's head and shoulders were arched back. Natar struck her with impatience. "Go
up and down on him -- you know how a man likes a girl to do it!"
Having no choice, Pendro seemed to fall in with the lash-slave's unpitying command and she thrust and rolled her
hips, ramming herself rhythmically upon the man's erection. The captive's eyes were closed but from her quivering
lips there came tremulous sounds. In truth, they sounded like desirous moans. Could it be that all the pent-up
needs of the past few weeks and months, brought about by Pendro's slow ripening and sexual deprivation while in
solitary confinement were forcing their way from her heaving bosom and throat.
From time to time, two of Lord Eilun's servants would still the blonde girl's hips, holding her forward a little
so that their master and his guests might see the state of her loins and thighs as she sat upon the erection. Indeed,
it appeared that Pendro had lost all sense of were she was, for she obeyed their hands as if unashamed. I could
not help but wonder whether they had given the wench a strong draft of passion potion before bringing her into
the room. I noted, too, that the hornet-stings seemed to have been distracting her but little, as if most of the
pain had already faded.
When they released her, Pendro continued to brol herself upon the more-or-less passive guard, the perspiration
shining on her breasts, back, and flanks. The man on whose twyll she rode uttered an exclamation, deep in his throat,
betraying the first salvo of his lust. At that instant Pendro gave a little cry between pressed lips, shocked perhaps
to have suddenly received male balm into her saer for the firsts time, but Natar's urgings quickly got her
back into her self-violating mode. At last her vigor was spent in an intense wave of female orgasm and she sank
exhaustedly upon her lover's sweat-streaked chest.
How easily and how lustily had the prisoner of war been brought to surrender! The speed of her conquest told me
that she was superb slave-meat and with very little training would fit well into Lord Eilun's stable, should he
deign to keep her. Perhaps he would not. If I read men right, one like His Lordship would soon be bored with a
girl who is too quick to yield. Most men of action prefer a wench with fire in her belly to a pliant trollop begging
for the grace of his pleasuring.
Now that the performance was over, there was a long silence among the spectators. We heard only the gasps of the
lucky guardsman beneath Pendro and the quiet sobs of an ignited slave's own fulfillment. Then the lord gave instructions
to two of his fellows to lead the debased wench away to the slaves' quarters. Her ordered that she was to be douched,
bathed and refreshed before his guests lay eyes on her again. I was already imaging seeing the blonde slave wearing
a collar, skillfully applied face-paint, and slave silk. A girl arrayed for the sweet labors of the love goddess
is, I think, lovelier by far than one who is fully nude.
I then realized that the lord was looking my way and with amusement.
"Did you suppose, my dear Sefyllian, that our night entertainment was over?" he asked. "What a niggardly
fellow I should be to leave my guests with their appetites whetted and no banquet to follow. I assure you, warrior,
our revels have only just begun!" He gave commands to his servants, telling them that the next amusement should
be brought in.
What precisely that amusement was is a story best left for some other night, as at the moment my writing fingers
have grown stiff from long labor.
Until another time,
THE END
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