Trojan Whores by Syra Bond

pushing gently at each
other for a position closer to their master. He stroked them as
they fed. He ran his free hand down their backs and across their
rounded buttocks. Their plumed headdresses shimmered in the
sunlight. Their leather harnesses gleamed. Their slightly sweaty
skin glistened. Their eyes burned bright with enthusiasm to serve
their master.
    He looked up
as Sappho was dragged forward. She felt ashamed of herself compared
to the fine pony girls. She looked down in embarrassment at her
filthy feet. She stared at the streaked dirt on her thighs where
the semen from her unknown lovers had been spread and smudged.
    'Wash her
down,' shouted Polydorus. 'And be quick. My important guest will be
here soon.' He turned back to feeding his pony girls.
    Sappho was
pulled along a covered walkway to an open door. She was too
confused and too weak to struggle as they dragged her inside a
high-ceilinged room.
    Women hung on
ropes around the walls. Their strained bodies shimmered in the
dancing red light from spluttering flares set on poles in each
corner. Others were held cowering on their knees under the
overbearing threat of canes and whips. Some were hooded, some bound
by the ankles, some gagged. The guards held a cane or a flail above
their heads ready, at any time, to bring it down in punishment for
some transgression or simply to gratify their need to inflict
pain.
    They pushed
Sappho down in the centre of the room. She looked at the captives.
On the one side of the room three women hung from ropes bound
around their wrists. They hung freely, swinging slowly in circles,
taut under the strain of their weight. All three drooped their
heads, but whether in shame, despair or exhaustion, Sappho could
not tell. One looked up weakly and stared for a moment at Sappho,
before dropping her head back heavily.
    On another
wall three women had their wrists tied behind their backs and then
to their ankles. They were gagged with balls secured behind their
heads. A strap was fitted across each of their foreheads and this
was led back to the bindings behind their backs. In this way their
heads were pulled back, continuing the half circle described by
their bent bodies. Leather straps had been used to bind them. These
were wound into a metal ring attached to the end of a rope
suspended from the ceiling. The women spun around, their bodies
bent agonisingly, their breasts flat against their chests. Their
eyes were wide and dazed, unable to focus on anything.
    On another
wall three women were each secured to a timber crucifix. Their arms
were lashed to its crossbeam, their ankles secured tightly to its
upright. The woman in the centre had her nipples pinched between
two wooden slats clamped together at each end by straps. The women
on either side of her had upturned buckets over their heads. Water
ran down and dripped from their feet to the floor.
    On the last
wall three more hung suspended by their ankles on ropes. They had
hoods over their heads. One of the hoods had worked down over the
woman's chin until it rested against her nose. Her mouth was
visible. Sappho's heart started pounding as she recognised
Chryseis. She wanted to call out to her, to let her know she was
there, but as she strained forward she was knocked sprawling to the
floor. She wanted to help her friend, to rescue her, saving her
from the terrible ordeal, but she just lay there, looking away,
unable to move, too afraid to go to her aid.
    'Wash her
down,' snorted one of the guards. 'She's filthy.'
    Sappho
struggled to sit up and a heavy splash of water hit her in the
face. It knocked her over and she fell back. She gasped with the
shock and struggled to pull her legs together, to get up, to
protect herself. Another bucket of water sloshed over her. It hit
her full in the chest. She gasped for breath, trying to wipe the
water from her face. Another, between her legs, made her shiver.
She tried to bring her legs together, but two guards held them
wide. They pinned her ankles