A Tale of Ties and Binds - Chapter 2

Chapter 2. A Binder of Rivals

The biremes raised their sails and deployed the long wooden shafts of the oars into the sea. From a distance, the city of Larissa looked as majestic as ever, the capital of the Queendom of Thessaly and a major contender for the most powerful realm in all of Greece. This was the common consensus in the capital, but perhaps news of a defeat at the whips and nets of a small Trojan garrison would change that view.

The palace stood highest of all atop a hill overlooking the city; a mixture of clay brick and granite buildings that let the sunlight bounce through even the darkest of whorehouses and slave markets. A new stall had set up on the docks since Penelope had left with the army. It looked to be well placed as the first slave market a returning voyager would come by once they docked, and a crowd of freewomen were tightly huddled in a circle before the stage whereon a dozen young girls were receiving their collars and being tugged away by passionate matriarchs of lesser households and thrifty slavers hoping to trade up.

Helen's Whip was first to dock, their iron-studded whip of a sigil last to furl their sails. The general's ship came next to take the easier spot along the wharf. Not every ship made it back. A storm raged half way through the voyage and the tempestuous winds blew some ships far off course. While most of the fleet made it back together, Hera's Glory had vanished into the waves and the rain along with a few others as Poseidon rattled in his cage. They'd reappear in a few days, everyone knew, no doubt with a heroic story to tell. Penelope vied with the Celt for the next available gap and won, forcing the barbarian warrioress to find a different place to dock. It was a small victory against a rival, but a victory nonetheless.

The fiery-haired Daphne and the full-chested Alexis the Binder each helped to guide the Sapphic Scylla into the niche along the jetty, and Penelope was first to disembark with the bronze rivets of her skirt clicking as she hurried to meet the general. "Lydia, with me. The rest of you I'll find back at the estate. Take the long way," she called to her crew, met with a feminine cheer. The long way home would take them through the slave market district full of whorehouses where they could find willing and submissive girls from far and wide who wanted only to serve between their customers' legs, as long as they got a little service of their own. The ones with strong tongues were especially willing to greet any returning soldier.

A short girl with braided hair and a purple chiton which exposed a small breast was talking politely with General Cassia, the captain of Poseidon's Mistress and Matriarch of the Household of the Trident. Her hands were tucked away out of sight, chained behind her back. Only the servants of higher-ups are ever chained in such a fashion (or chained as opposed to bound with leather twine, for that matter). The confirmation came when Penelope recognised the royal sigil on her garment, the iron-studded whip on a midnight background; a royal steward of Queen Astrid, come to deliver the general to her fate.

Or so Penelope believed.

"Captain Penelope of the Household of the Scylla?" asked the steward respectfully as Penelope approached. A raised eyebrow and a curious nod from the captain prompted the girl to continue. "Her Grace was not expecting Her army to return so soon. She asked that you both be summoned to Her court as soon as you arrived so that you may tell Her all."

At this, General Cassia stood up tall with dignified distress. A head higher than most already, and nearly twice as tall as the steward, the strong brunette was an ambiguous sight. Penelope understood why the general was summoned, but confusedly asked, "Why me?"

"Her Grace did not say, Captain. It is not my position to question Her royal orders lest I be gagged between my charges. If you could both now come with me to the palace."

The walk to the palace was escorted by a company of royal guards, long-haired and longer-whipped mistresses in full bronze armour. Penelope noticed how General Cassia looked thoughtfully along the streets, perhaps wondering if she'd be led down those particular alleys hooded and fettered, stripped and exposed to the waiting punishment of whips and paddles from the freewomen of Larissa. At the edge of the city, she would be made to sit a horse backwards and impaled upon the protrusion of the specialised saddle; every equine step would grind the phallic object deeper into her, and the parade would conclude with a bow-legged general and a particularly messy saddle as she would be enlisted into the Queen's personal harem. It made Penelope wonder again why she was summoned. Perhaps the general would not suffer the walk of shame alone.

Up the hill, through a series of gates, ogled pitifully by some royal guards and respectfully recognised by others (what did they know that Penelope didn't?), along halls and down corridors, the escort finally arrived at the doors to the throne room.  Penelope ordered Lydia to await her return there, and the dutiful auburn-haired girl complied.

"All hail Her Grace, Queen Astrid, Matriarch of the Household of the Whip, Grand Matriarch of the Thessalian families, Binder of Rivals and Slaver of Sisters," sang out the steward, her small voice carrying loudly across the cavernous room.

The throne room was decorated in the Greek custom. Great Doric columns lined the central aisle of carpets made of dense fur that tickled and swallowed the small bare feet of the steward as she skipped submissively to her monarch's side, chains on her wrists jingling like music. Chained to each column and facing inwards was a beautiful young girl, smiling and flirting with their nymph-like features, giggling as only young girls could, naked as the day they were born with their hands cuffed high above the width of the columns in finest leather-lined iron manacles and their unprotected feet drawn up beside them off the floor. They were neither slaves nor captives, but tributes to Her Grace from the households of the Thessalian families. They stood (or hung, more accurately) as promises to the court of the various matriarchs' loyalty and fidelity. The Queen could do anything She wished with these households, literally and metaphorically, as the many columns were equipped with a stock of feathers, floggers and other royal toys. One of these nubile girls was of the Household of the Scylla and Penelope's tribute, and another was Cassia's from the Household of the Trident. There were so many members of each major household that they were impossible to recognise without armour or sigil, and these naked tributes wore neither.

The Queen sat regally, as all Greek queens do, at the far end of the hall in Her throne. She was of an average height with a decently firm bust and a curved body that put other queens to shame. Her hair was a long chestnut brown and braided down to a fine tip at Her knees, locked into confinement with a shiny iron ring. The Queen wore a purple-dyed leather bodice and a gold-link necklace from Her shoulders. Atop Her head, a thin gold crown forged to resemble a chain. It would be treason to say it, or maybe a compliment, but Penelope believed Her Grace must have been the most sought-after potential captive in all of the Aegean. The throne was equally as elegant; a boiled leather husk of a chair, hollowed out to make room for the monarch's first phallic slave who was restrained in such a way that his phallus projected from a hole in the throne's lap which served to scratch the Royal itch. Above the throne hung a large banner with the sigil of the Household of the Whip, accompanied by the actual iron-studded ancestral weapon of the Queen's household held on a pair of pegs in the wall below it.

"General Cassia," Her Grace began as She churned on the slave inside Her throne, "when I spotted My sigil on the horizon this morning I didn't know what to expect. I had believed that the army would remain to garrison Mytilene until such time as I said elsewise. Shall I assume you bring bad news?"

"Your Grace, forgive me." Cassia dropped to her hands and knees, prompting Penelope to do the same. "The Trojan force was stronger than expected. They'd built a wall higher than our slingers could loose their bolas and the earlier reports did not reflect such a large garrison. The surprise attack failed and our superior numbers were quickly captured below their defences."

The Queen sat quietly for some time before She rose slowly from Her leather throne, a slick popping noise and a grunt echoing from the chair in the silence. Penelope dared not look up to view the smooth Royal legs as She paced to an open window beside a toasty hearth. "Mytilene was to be My outpost on the Isle of Lesbos. I was to stage a full-scale war against the Trojans from there. I was to have a Trojan girl chained up in every household, every hut and every shack in Thessaly. This failure of yours is a failure of Mine, and I fear I shall be the mockery of our foreign adversaries." She approached the general, "General Cassia of the Household of the Trident, you no doubt understand your punishment?"

In confirmation, the general stood up, towering over her monarch, and unclipped the straps of her stiff leather bodice to let it fall to floor. And there is rested, the Trident matriarch's armour; a pair of sharp bronze nipples, a three-pronged trident crest and two dozen collar-themed rivets. But it wasn't Cassia's armour anymore, it belonged to her heiress. Whoever the new matriarch was, she would have big sandals to fill - literally. The bronze bracers, grieves and thin underclothes were next to sink into the soft fur rugs underfoot, and Cassia stood naked and dignified before the Queen.

To the royal steward, Her Grace said, "Have her scrubbed, bound, hooded and paraded. Bath her in milk upon her return and prepare her for My evening supper. I shall drink from her chalice tonight. And her respectful silence displeases Me. Gag her too."

Penelope had almost begun to believe the Queen had forgotten about her as a pair of guards escorted the former general from the throne room and closed the door behind them, until She bade her rise. "Your Grace, I am here to serve."

"And serve you shall. Better than your predecessor, I hope." The Queen's dark eyes watched for a reaction.

"My predecessor, Your Grace?" Penelope enquired.

The Queen turned and walked to a window overlooking Her queendom. "The Household of the Scylla has served Me well in My time as queen. Do you recall how I came to power all those years ago?"

"Yes, Your Grace," said Penelope proudly. "It was a time of great reform and celebration."

"When My own predecessor was taken captive during the war with the Thracians, it left the position open to My sisters and I. Normally the rules of succession are as straight as the meat on My throne, but we were triplets, and nobody was quite sure anymore who was the oldest. We all claimed to be, after all, and we couldn't all be right. I waited patiently while My sisters quarrelled between themselves the night the news of the Queen's capture arrived. My idiot sisters completely tired themselves out and neither had managed to bind the other. When we were born, the goddesses blessed one of us with strength, one with swiftness, and one with wisdom. Strength and speed cancel each other out, you know, but wisdom can only be beaten with more wisdom. I'd cut their whips shorter, you see, and sliced holes in their nets. Here, in this very throne room, right where you're standing now, I found them trying and failing to capture each other - slow strength pitted against feeble speed. I took My family's ancestral whip off the wall and captured both My sisters in one decisive flick of the wrist. Ha! The looks on their faces as I bound them with the shreds of their own smallclothes. I sold one of them to Sparta and the other to Athens and took the finest phallic slave each city could offer Me in return. 'Binder of Rivals', they called Me, 'Slaver of Sisters'. The Household of the Scylla was the first to send Me a tribute as Queen, did you know?" The Queen chuckled softly as She remembered. "They never did find out who was the oldest. I suppose it doesn't matter anymore, but I like to hear the storytellers sing a different song each time."

"My family is proud to have served and to keep serving, Your Grace," Penelope said with a bow.

"Consider your service rewarded, Penelope. I'm promoting you to General of the Thessalian Army and Taker of Captives. You're a pragmatic and level-headed woman; it seems apt. In truth, I know the defeat on the Isle of Lesbos was not Cassia's fault - I just always wanted her in My harem and needed an excuse to put her there. It's just a shame I had to lose so many Greeks to Trojan chains to do it." The Queen approached Penelope, long braid swaying like a tail behind Her as She walked, and spoke softly into her ear - so softly that not even the tributes suspended on the granite columns could hear. "I suspect the Trojans knew we were coming."

"You suspect someone sent them a message which arrived before our army could, Your Grace?" Penelope whispered.

"General, My first order is that you find whoever is responsible and deliver them bound, gagged and stripped directly to Me. There is a traitor in My city!"

Continued in Chapter 3