A Tale of Ties and Binds - Chapter 11

Chapter 11. A Landing of Longboats

Annysthetix had proven to be as eccentric as she was reclusive. The old woman had wild and frizzy grey-white hair, a ragged black and brown cloak made of twigs and feathers and leaves, an excitable grin, and lived in what could only (and modestly) be described as a cave in the side of a cliff.

How the crone had giggled and clapped with excitement when she saw some fresh guests arriving to her humble abode, so far away from everyone else - all the better to let her payments make as much noise as they could.

Narcholeptix had led the way through the hills and woods, leaving the rest of her tribe to train in the ways of warfare from their Greek and Dacian teachers. Penelope followed at a slower pace as she pulled the cart carrying the crone's hogtied and gagged payment. Guard had not easily accepted her fate, which was odd because she had accepted everything else so far that came her way. Penelope had never seen the blonde girl struggle quite as much as she did then, though she never made a sound.

After the pleasantries and courteous introductions, through which Annysthetix prodded her captive payment with a bony finger and giggled like the young girl she (presumably) once was, they all sat down at a log table. There was a distinct smell of womanly juices in the air, though it was nearly disguised behind a cloud of all other smells imaginable. Penelope could taste everything and nothing all at once. The cave was filled with a strange mist and she could barely see the collection of mushrooms, weeds and flowers hanging on strings overhead. Narcholeptix didn't want to stay any longer than she needed to and so quickly inquired about the sleeping potions.

"Of course! Of course!" grinned the old woman. "At least three score of the magic in my stores. The oil of fish was easy enough to find, and obtaining the squirtings from the horses was as much enjoyment for me as it was for the horses, ha! I even perfected the brew with my own secret ingredient." She winked suggestively at her guests as she slipped a hand between Guard's arse cheeks.

Penelope dare not ask what the secret ingredient was. "I have heard great tales of witches, oracles and other women who claim to have magical gifts, though I am yet to see the proof of their claims. How do I know what you are giving us really works as you say and isn't simply bog water?"

The druid laughed. It sounded like a crow had caught in her throat. "Oh, it works it does. Have you ever heard the tale of Galla of Burdigalla? I gave her some of my potions and within a moon's turn she became known as the Chieftess of Burdigalla."

"She usurped the chieftess using your potion?"

"Maybe!" laughed the crone again.

Narcholeptix, who also didn't trust the witch, cleared her throat. "If it is possible, we would like to see a demonstration."

"A demonstration? Yes. Yes. You have come so far and have much need for a potent brew to sleep a... chieftess? A slave girl? You do not need to my potion to sleep a slave girl. Oh! A phallic slave! I can give you a different potion - one that makes him sleep but also keeps him as hard as rock for three days and nights." The witch stamped her bare foot on the cave floor. "So hard, mmm yes."

"Pirates. We'll be using the potion to repel a raid; at least... sixty to seventy soldiers."

"Ah!" Annysthetix paused. "In that case you will need many pots of the brew; all my stores, at least two hundred. And so many pots for so many pirates means I will need further payment." She licked her lips as she eyed Penelope up and down. "I have never tasted Greek payment before."

The prospect of being... fiddled with by this old hag did not tempt Penelope at all. "Half now, half later. If we succeed I'm sure the Picentes will give you first pick of the captive pirates."

The witch thought about it a moment. "Ten!"

"Three."

"Hmm... seven!"

"Five."

"Six!"

"Deal. Six captives of your choice." You'll have nothing if you give us bog water. "Now give us a demonstration."

"Yes. I shall demonstrate the effects of the potion on this payment you have given me." The witch shuffled off to her shelves while Guard lay hogtied and helpless with a sorry look on her pale face. Her rosy cheeks seemed brighter than ever. The witch returned with an example of her potion. "I make these pots carefully using clay and they are very brittle, I warn you. If you drop one, it will break. They are lighter than they may look and fit in one hand easily enough. Inside is a foggy white liquid that gives off an almost clear mist. It will sleep whoever smells it." She popped the cork and held it in an outstretched hand as fumes cascaded across her fingers.

Just as the hag was about to hold it before her, Guard kicked herself up as far as her hogtie would allow, head-butting the pot out of Annysthetix's weak grip and sending it straight onto Narcholeptix's chest where it broke into a cloud of sleeping gas. Guard grinned devilishly as the chieftess swooned and panted and coughed before collapsing unconscious on the ground.

Annysthetix and Penelope covered their mouths to protect themselves from the rising fumes while Guard could be heard breathing through her gag.

Penelope nudged Narcholeptix with the side of her foot, to which the chieftess did not reply. "I'll take all the potions you have."

The trek down the mountains was not as difficult as the way up, but Penelope had to pay extra attention. To stop her from falling off, Penelope had tied Narcholeptix into the cart and gagged her too, to prevent from biting her tongue while she slept (and the added gag was more amusing). Though it would be terrible if Narcholeptix fell off and hurt herself, it would be even worse if any one of the two hundred pots of sleeping potion fell off and knocked Penelope out too.

She noticed she could hear screaming coming from the druid's cave. Or perhaps it should be described as high-pitched moaning. In all the time spent with that girl, Penelope had never heard Guard say a thing. She didn't even know the girl's real name. From their first encounter back outside the Thessalian dungeons up until just moments ago, the short-haired blonde had remained completely silent. It wasn't until the rebellion in the Histri camp that Penelope had found out the soldier had been constantly gagged, and most likely by personal choice. She entered Penelope's adventure as a silent warrior, and she leaves it a moaning plaything of an eccentric barbarian witch.

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The Picene village was still standing when Penelope returned, so that was a good sign. Women weren't running around like panicked sheep despite the fact that the wolves were on their way.

She left Narcholeptix to recover inside the great hall under the blindfolded and mmphing supervision of Serena and carted the potions down to the beach. The longboat was a skeleton of what it once was and had been completely stripped of useful materials. The rope rigging had been disassembled, the oars stacked in a pile on the sand, and even the sail had been taken down and shredded into conveniently sized strips.

Adara the black-haired Spartan was teaching a group of girls how to use a whip. A few had gotten the hang of it and were cracking their ropes loudly in the air and some had moved on to trying to snag each other. The rest of you had best hurry up and learn, Penelope thought. The Histri will carve right through us at this rate.

Further on, Daphne was showing another group how to correctly throw a net. Hers landed in a perfect circle at least fifteen paces away - she always was a skilled soldier. The students' attempts were not as good, however, and their nets didn't even spill out in the air and instead landed in a tangled heap in the sand. Goddesses save us all. It's all up to the potions.

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High tide and near freezing cold, the night was illuminated a pale red by a blood moon. They had lost a good deal of their beach to the foaming waves, and the battlefield was that little bit smaller.

A fog had settled casting a thin layer of blindness over the ocean. They wouldn't know exactly how many raiders they'd be facing until moments before they hit land. Penelope wasn't too worried, at least not visibly. The Greeks were quite used to battle. The same, however, could not be said for the Picene villagers. Only time would tell if they could withstand the attack.

Penelope surveyed the Picene formation from her mound on the sand dunes. Forty Picentes stood at her flanks, the one called Merinthofobix among them shivering in fear. Zia stood close by Penelope, ready to translate and relay any orders in the correct tongue.

The rest of the defenders were lined along the beach, all sixty of them. Adara and Daphne had tried and mostly failed to teach the ways of the whip and the net so only they and a few of the tribeswomen were properly armed. Everyone else held a pot of the potion in each hand. The ones called Ayrobix and Aysthetix stood somewhere in that front line too, and no doubt the latter of the two was completely careless as to whether her tribe was defeated and she was whisked away to some far-off corner of the world to be kept as the docile and submissive plaything of a foreign mistress. If things had turned out differently back home in Thessaly, perhaps the blonde bondage pet may have ended up in Penelope's bed.

She adjusted the cloth tied around her mouth and nose. Guard had given her the idea back in the cave to breathe through the cloth to protect themselves from the fumes. She heard the pitter-patter of footsteps behind her.

"The women are frightened," said Zia the Dacian. "They have never fought against the Histri before. They are expecting the worst."

"Tell them fear is necessary. It will stop them from doing something stupid. And assure them that following my orders is the best thing they can possibly do. And hold the line." Above all, hold the line.

The defenders heard the Histri raiders before they saw them. The carnyx horns they used made a terrifying howl that sent a shiver down Penelope's spine. Varoora varoora varoorarooooooooo varooraroooooooooo.

The Picene women were taken aback. Some looked as though they were about to run at the mere sound. "HOLD!" Penelope roared above the carnyx, though she couldn't say how many could hear her.

Through the fog, the heads of dragons appeared. Their sail wings glowed red in the blood moon and their oar talons clawed at the waves as they howled like monsters. Varoora varoora varoorarooooooooo varooraroooooooooo

"HOLD!"

The ships were closer. Penelope could even recognise a few of the faces of various big-breasted mistresses from her time in their village. But there was only one who mattered - Ceinlys Lachtnatorix.

The raiders began hooting and screaming, their war cries filling the minds of the Picentes with graphic and perverted images. Merinthofobix broke down in tears again, and by the looks on other Picene faces it appeared she wouldn't be the only one soon.

The troops needed a morale boost. She asked Zia to translate. "Sisters!" she yelled as loud as she could. "Do you know what makes a great battle? Do you know what the bards sing about in their epics? Do you know what the young girls who hope to be famous soldiers dream about at night? A great battle is not easily won. A great battle is not fought by great nations or great generals or queens. A great battle is fought because of a purpose, and we have a purpose tonight, sisters. What happens now is the only difference between freedom and servitude. Freedom is our purpose. One day you will tell this story to your daughters and granddaughters. So pay attention! Fight well and fight with purpose, and I promise you, there shall be a pirate's tongue between your legs come sunrise!"

The Picentes cheered and threw their fists in the air, drowning out the war cries and the carnyx's howling. And for just a moment, Penelope forgot she wasn't in the company of fellow Greeks.

"Load your slings, sisters, and don't loose until you can see the shadow of their breasts!"

On the front line along the beach, the Picene villagers began slinging their pots as far as they could into the fog. A disheartening amount splashed into the ocean, but the ones that hit their mark were met with Picene cheers and Histri moans, and suddenly that longboat went silent. More ships followed the same fate as their crews were overcome by the fumes and dropped unconscious to the decks.

The first ships hit land, but their crews were already down and the Picene front line had already spent their potions. Adara and Daphne drew them back up the beach several paces.

The next row of ships hit land unmolested and the raiders spilled out with bare breasts and nets flailing. Their war cries drowned out all other sound as they charged the Picentes along the front line. Many Picene women were snagged in the nets without so much time as to scream and were left to struggle by themselves as their captors moved on to molest other prey.

Daphne caught a net as it came at her and returned it in one swift spinning throw, catching two Histri where it landed. She screamed her own war cries at the invaders and they seemed to think twice before trying again. The fiery-haired nymph charged solo into the fray and showed the barbarians why the Greeks made the most effective fighting force in the world.

The black-haired Adara held her coiled rope in one hand and stood motionless as a dozen Histri crowded around her. A head taller than most and a physique to put them all to shame, it was not the Histri custom to attack unless they knew they could win. And they were right to be cautious. Adara was a Spartan, born and trained. One of the larger-breasted of the pirates stepped forward to test herself. The Spartan flicked her rope at the pirate's feet, caught her around the ankles and pulled the ground out from beneath her all in the blink of an eye. The crowd all took a single step back and Adara waited for her next challenger.

Not as fortunate, Penelope spotted Ayrobix trying to sprint away from one wall of nets only to be caught in another she hadn't seen. The perfect bondage pet, Aysthetix was seen being carried away back to the longboats without a fuss, tightly trussed in fur strips from knees to neck and gagged with the shredded remains of her own tunic. Useless in warfare, thought Penelope. She's one best kept under the sheets and off the battlefield.

Then Penelope saw her - the warlady, Ceinlys Lachtnatorix - jump down from the last longboat with her huge breasts bouncing half a step behind her. She wore her phallic-horned bronze helm and her fur clothes were lined with proper leather. Her eyes met with Penelope's and she sneered with fury, the memory of the broomsticks still fresh in her mind.

"Sisters!" Penelope called to her flanks. "Double captives whoever hits the one with the massive jugs!"

The Picentes on the sand dunes loaded the potions into their slings and took aim just as their target rallied her companions and started a charge towards the ridge. A few Picene slingers let loose but their pots fell short. Ceinlys and her chosen twenty closed the distance in barely any time, fanning out in a long line parallel to the Picene women along the ridge.

Penelope ordered another volley of pots and soon the air was full of them. The Histri, however, had caught on to the tactic. They launched their nets into the air in front of them, catching the pots with only one exception shattering against the webbing and sending a splash of clay and magic against one raider. The rest fell harmlessly to the sand.

"Curses," Penelope muttered. Now the potions were in Histri hands.

But the battle was far from over. With a quick check of the numbers she realised the Picentes outnumbered the Histri roughly three to one, and even with a height advantage. She needed to act quickly.

"Sisters! Charge!"

The sixty Picene villagers on the sand dunes ran and leapt off the ridge towards Ceinlys and her companion guard. The raiders didn't seem to expect that and some were too busy untangling the potions from the nets for their own use. Only those who were looking forward managed to dodge in time to avoid being knocked to the ground by up to three women at once. The Picentes didn't need to be experienced soldiers to know how to keep a woman pinned to the ground as they haphazardly tied them up with their slings, hands boxtied tightly into the smalls of their backs.

Penelope was leading the charge. She wanted to take the glory for beating Ceinlys a second time. Sure enough, the Histri warlady was right in front of her. Penelope shot out a sandalled foot and tried to connect it to Ceinlys' face, but the barbarian dodged just in time. Ceinlys counterattacked by kicking a cloud of sand into her opponent's face which only managed to blind herself to Penelope's fist coming at her.

The Greek captain grabbed the pirate by the hair and threw her to the sand among a pile of nets, and Penelope fell down on top of her, straddling Ceinlys' enormous jugs, and picked out one of the pots of potion half tangled into webbing. She shoved it into Ceinlys' mouth just as she opened it to curse in her guttural dialect. "Make another move and you'll wake up days from now with a broom so far up your arse you'll feel it in your throat," said Penelope. Ceinlys growled in anger, but she didn't move.

Penelope looked around the battlefield. There were many Histri pirates moaning in frustration, and many Picene women grunting in exhaustion, but only allies were standing.

Nearby, Merinthofobix was taking out her anxiety by grinding herself along the pirate bound between her legs, crying in what could only be described as battle-drunk euphoria. On the north side of the beach, Daphne was dragging a large net with three Histri captives tangled up inside, making her way to add a fourth. Adara patrolled the south side, kicking any Histri she suspected of pretending to be asleep - all of them, by the looks of it - and then making sure by tying them up anyway.

The battle was over, and the Picene women cheered as they bound their captives, "Penelope! Penelope! Penelope!"

Continued in Chapter 12

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