A Tale of Ties and Binds - Chapter 26

Chapter 26. A Rematch of Rivals

How could the Spartan Empress refuse such an offer? A beautiful young blonde as Her royal daughter's first slave, won in a duel; a victory made even sweeter by the news that Serena was also the heiress to the throne of Thessaly. Empress Sappho grinned from ear to ear to think that Her princess might own a slave of such worth.

She had hardly taken a second breath before She announced the match to Her audience of Spartans and slaves in ravenous orgy.

There was a great uproar of excitement as the Spartans threw the helots from their laps and gathered themselves for a fight, beating their bare breasts and drunkenly hooting. Serena was ushered away with Penelope and Daphne in tow and escorted through the palace.

They came across a spacious arena with an open roof over a circular field of sand. Thick granite columns lined the arena in a ring, each painted with detailed images of women clashing in vicious struggles. They told stories of women being tossed and thrown and pinned and wrenched, and every story ended with a single victor standing proud over their hogtied vanquished. Only the names of those who won were inscribed in the marble. Penelope began to feel nervous, and she wasn't even the one fighting.

They were taken down a corridor and shoved into a small room. The Spartan escorts unbound the pair of redheads and left without a word of encouragement or support.

Penelope took the opportunity to untie the red cleave gag from her mouth to say to Serena what was on her mind. "Are you insane?!"

"Not even I'm hot-headed enough to look for a fight with a Spartan!" Daphne agreed.

"I appreciate all the confidence," Serena said sarcastically. "It's just a shame none of your plans worked. Like always, I come to your rescue."

"I didn't need your help," Penelope lied. "I had everything under control."

Serena scoffed. "That's not what it looked like. Sappho was about to-"

The argument was interrupted when a pair of young brunette slaves entered the room. Both wore a thick iron collar at their necks inscribed with the Empress' name, while one carried an empty wooden bowl with two sponges and the other carried a large jug. Without speaking, they laid down their things and began working at the clasps and buckles on Serena's armour.

"What are you doing?" the blonde asked.

The slave who'd carried the jug bowed her head and answered, "We're preparing you for battle, Mistress. The Empress sent us to bathe your skin in olive oil."

Serena gave Penelope a cocked eyebrow. "At least some people are helping me. Did the Empress tell you to use your tongues?"

"She did not, Mistress."

"Can you do it anyway? It looked enjoyable."

"Not without an order from the Empress, Mistress."

"Perhaps later, after I've won." Serena winked at the slaves as they lifted the boiled leather bodice from her chest, revealing a large pair of breasts and wide hips that mirrored the Spartan physique.

The slaves poured the jug of olive oil into the bowl and soaked their sponges in the liquid. They began softly rubbing the oil into the skin of Serena's feet, slowly working their way up her body. Penelope and Daphne both sat down on a bench. It seemed they were going to be there for a while.

Penelope still had unanswered questions on her mind. "How did you know Adara was the Empress' daughter? Not even I knew that."

Serena grinned her cunning grin. "Now, Penelope, I'm sure you don't know lots of things. But I was always suspicious of the Spartan, right from the beginning when she first joined my slave caravan back in Larissa the morning we met. My older sister once taught me that many young Spartan girls are encouraged to wander the countryside and subdue, bind and rape helots, eventually enslaving them outright. The other slavers told me Adara had a fight with one of her countrywomen over a phallic slave and lost. The winner enslaved Adara but sold her off due to the fear of revenge. But that didn't make sense. Spartans don't sell slaves, let alone fear them."

No, it doesn't make sense. "She told us the same thing."

"So she lied to us?" Daphne asked without any attempt to hide her anger. "I thought she was loyal!"

"She was loyal," Serena said calmly, "just not to you. So I asked myself what kind of Spartan willingly finds themselves bound in a cage headed for a village of Illyrian pirates. Then I remembered something else my sister once taught me that few others know. Spartans of royal lineage do not wander the countryside enslaving helots like their countrywomen. The royals are instead stripped of everything they own and thrust into slavery. They do it to learn what it means to be completely helpless so that they fully understand the meaning of power."

Penelope hadn't known that. "So all that time she was following us around, she was only doing it so she'd be prepared to take the Spartan throne? But that still doesn't explain how you knew. You had no proof she was a princess."

"True, but when I saw the way the Empress tweaked that slave's tits... it reminded me of that game Adara and Daphne used to play with pinching and flicking at my poor defenceless nipples. It was then that I saw the family resemblance. Put another twenty-five years on Adara and the weight of an empire on her shoulders and she'd look just like Sappho. It all made sense after that. I knew she was the princess."

Daphne pouted. "Adara would always win at that game."

Penelope couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed. It seemed to be a recurring theme in her life. "I can't believe she didn't trust us enough to tell the truth."

Serena chuckled - perhaps at the comment, perhaps at the way the slaves were sponging her crotch. "Suppose it became widely known that she was a princess. That would make her a very valuable hostage. If I'd managed to escape you with that knowledge before my change of heart, I can assure you, I would not have hesitated to ransom that girl for all the gold and slaves in Sparta. It was wise of her to keep it a secret from us."

The slaves were thoroughly rubbing olive oil into the fold under Serena's breasts. Their orders were to leave no skin uncleansed.

Penelope admired the curvature of the arse cheeks on one of the slaves. "That brings me to my second question, Serena: why are you really helping us? This isn't just about taking revenge for Adara besting you in a fight."

"You're right. It has nothing to do with the Spartan. Beating her today is just for personal pride, but I have to think about Thessaly in the long term. Titania is a cruel woman. What she did to you was nothing compared to what she used to do to me."

It was Penelope's turn to chuckle. "I beg to differ."

Serena shot back a glare. "On the night after I first blossomed into womanhood, she sneaked into my bedchambers and shoved a dirty rag into my mouth to silence my screams. She flipped me over, bound my wrists and elbows, and carried me outside to where our hounds were baying at the moon. There was a hitching post in the centre of the field where we'd train our horses. She knelt me down on my knees and tied my back to it with my legs spread apart. She kissed me on the cheek and told me I'd be found some time after the sun came up. Then she pulled down my silks and slipped a small piece of beef up inside me. Finally, she whistled for the hounds to come... Bound to that post with half a dozen canine tongues licking me out, I vowed never to become my sister. Titania was ten years my elder and did something like that to me, a little girl. Now she's queen, and every woman in Thessaly is just a little girl to her."

"She's always been a heartless bitch - this isn't news to anyone. But you're currently the heiress to Titania's throne and her entire slave empire. You stand to gain more by opposing us than by helping us overthrow her. So what's the real reason?"

Not even the undoubtedly pleasurable sensation of having olive oil rubbed into her nipples could hide the frustration on Serena's youthful expression. "The real reason...? My sister is fertile."

"How's that important?" Daphne asked impatiently. Penelope suspected she knew the answer.

Serena sneered at the idea. "Because once Titania gets a babe in her belly, I'll no longer be the heiress. I won't inherit her crown, her household or anything if she whelps a daughter. Sure, I could kidnap my niece and sell her off to some foreign whorehouse before she comes of age, but why wait so long when an opportunity such as this falls in my lap? If you win your war, I'll be the new Matriarch of the Household of the Celtic Knot. If you lose-"

"You lose too."

"No. Only if Titania finds out I've been working against her. As long as she remains blissfully unaware of our mutually beneficial alliance, I don't lose a thing."

Penelope understood perfectly. "So you're helping us just so you're on the winning side no matter what the outcome? I'm sorry to tell you, Serena, but you've broken your vow. You're exactly like your sister."

The cunning blonde gave a wry smile. "Perhaps, but you best pray to the goddesses that I can fight like her too."

The pair of slaves began packing up. One said, "You are sufficiently oiled, Mistress. The Empress awaits your presence in the arena." Then they both quietly shuffled out the door.

Penelope stood. She could feel the churning of nerves in her gut. Serena needed to win, elsewise Sparta would abandon her. Serena was fighting not just for herself, but to rescue all of Greece from foreign invaders.

The arena had grown crowded. Spartans were seated around the edges where the sand met the marbled floors, each with at least one slave's head between their legs and just as many goblets of wine between their fingers. Each of the granite columns ringing the arena, which were previously bare, were now decorated with a phallic slave chained with his hands stretched high above his head and his meat jutting outwards like a spear. Penelope had never seen a Spartan phallic slave, but it was clear that every Spartan woman had been fathered by only the best physical specimens Greece had to offer.

Sappho, Empress of Sparta, stood beside one of the columns with Her sharp fingers coiled around one of the phallic slaves' erect lengths, slowly pulling it back and forth. Adara, the apparent Spartan princess, joined her royal mother. Together they applied the slave's juices to the bronze phallic-tipped spear Adara had taken from the Etruscans. It may have been arousing in any other context, but the look in their eyes was menacing.

Serena shouldered her way through the crowd. Being covered in olive oil helped. "Your Grace, I am prepared for battle."

Sappho grinned. "You should have prepared yourself for slavery instead. Look, I've had a gift made for you." She gestured to Her side where a brand new iron collar was presented beautifully on a red cushion. It was inscribed simply with, 'Adara'.

"Your Grace is as generous as She is humble, but I'm afraid collars don't suit me," Serena said with a wink. "What are the rules of engagement?"

"You may use any weapon at your disposal." Sappho pointed out the weapons rack. "Whips, nets, bolas and ropes. The battle ends either when your hands have been tied or you're thrown from the arena, whichever My daughter manages to do first."

Serena scanned the rack. Her Spartan opponent held a whip and a spear with a bola at her belt, so the blonde's choice should bear that in mind. She plucked out a long leather whip with a black and red lash and a pair of bolas. She gave the whip a flick and the bolas a twirl to become accustomed to their weight and balance. With a deep breath, she announced, "I'm ready."

"Excellent," the Empress grinned, stepping outside the ring and snatching a goblet of wine from a half-drunk soldier. "Adara," She called to Her daughter, "what are we to do when an enemy stands before us?"

Adara unclipped the whip from her belt and gave a reply that was as loud as thunder and as fast as lightning. Crack! Crack! Crack! The Spartan battle taunt was simple, yet effective. Even Penelope was slightly shaken.

It began without further fanfare or warning. Adara cracked her whip just shy of Serena's face, hoping to force the blonde backwards and out the ring. Serena was not so foolish, however, and ducked to the side instead.

She brandished one of her bolas and flung it in the direction of the Spartan princess' ankles. Adara didn't bother dodging and simply blocked the projectile with the head of her spear. The leather thong of the bola wrapped tightly around the bronze phallus and the weights slammed against the shaft. Nearly every phallic slave in attendance could be heard wincing in vicarious pain. Adara flicked her spear and let the bola fall to the sand.

They each passed attacks back and forth with little gained save exhaustion and anticipation. Serena was quick on her feet and leapt and dodged and rolled and ducked between assaults. Adara gave no ground. Every step the Spartan princess took was forward, every advance closing the distance. She was as silent as a wolf stalking her first lamb.

Serena sprinted away each time, preferring to keep her distance and let the length of her whip do the work. With enough room between, she loosed her second bola.

Either by ignorance or overconfidence, Adara didn't attempt to block it. If she knew about it, she must have seen no reason to try. The bola was not coming directly at her and would clearly miss. Perhaps the princess had underestimated the blonde's cunning, for the bola was never meant for her.

It closed around the base of Adara's whip and folded the lash in on itself. Serena seized on the opportunity and charged. The Spartan princess was at least a head taller than the blonde, but even a Spartan is the same height as everyone else when lying on their back having their hands bound. Adara tried to catch her opponent during the charge by sending out her whip in an arc, but the shortened length caused her to misjudge and the lash didn't make the distance. With barely a pace between them, Adara raised her phallic-tipped spear in hopes of blocking the charge. Serena had too much speed behind her, however, and sent the Spartan tumbling down into the sand.

For a brief moment, Penelope spotted a grin flash across Serena's mouth. It should have filled her with delight, but it brought back memories of the Celt and the dungeon instead. The grin only lasted an instant before Adara knocked Serena's feet out from under her with a swing of the phallic-tipped spear. Then they were both on the ground.

All former tactic and strategy seemed to disappear. It became less a duel and more a schoolyard tussle. They pulled each other's hair, pinched at each other's nipples, and at one point appeared to be fucking.

The audience's eyes were pinned on the scene. Penelope and Daphne held their breath, the Spartan soldiers cheered on their princess with hoots and racist slurs, and the Empress clenched Her jaw so tight it was a wonder Her teeth weren't made of diamonds. Even the slaves were on edge. The helots, whose job it was lick out their mistresses, had abandoned their task to watch (not that the Spartans had noticed) and the phallic slaves chained to the ring of columns all pointed their meats eagerly at the struggle before them.

Amidst the fury, Adara found herself on top. She straddled the blonde's strong thighs between her own and gripped both her opponent's wrists. All that the Spartan princess needed to do was bind them together and the battle would be hers and Serena her first slave.

"Finish her!" Sappho yelled. "Finish her!"

Serena was failing. Her arms were shaking. Penelope's dreams of gaining Spartan support were fading. Adara was again proving to be the stronger of the two.

Then Penelope had an idea. "Your sister would be ashamed!" she yelled above the furore. "Titania wouldn't let herself be beaten!"

Serena's expression of exhaustion flashed with anger. The plan worked. She tugged one leg up inside the struggle, then the other, and kicked the Spartan princess up over the top of her.

Adara somersaulted forward once in the air before landing on her knees as her face planted into the crotch of one of the chained phallic slaves. The whole audience gasped to witness their princess take the slave's erect meat in her mouth.

Before the princess could gather herself, the blonde lunged into her from behind. Serena pinned Adara against the phallic slave and wrenched both her wrists behind her back. The Spartan princess struggled to regain the upper-hand, but with her head locked in place by the slave's meat and her body stuck between them, there was little she could do.

Serena grabbed the bola from Adara's belt and used it to tightly and swiftly bind the princess' wrists together. With a tight double knot, victory was hers! She threw both her fists in the air triumphantly and fell to her knees, shining with a coat of sweat and olive oil, and let out a proud roar to herald her victory.

The phallic slave released a short grunt and a sudden gush of his white seed exploded from the corners of Adara's mouth. Every Spartan in the arena hooted with equal parts amusement and disgust - every Spartan except the Empress and Her daughter.

Penelope and Daphne cheered, jumping and clapping and laughing - not for Adara's humiliation, but for the army they'd just won. Serena had given them a fighting chance.

But when Penelope's eyes met Sappho's across the arena, the Empress wiped the joy from her heart. There was fury in those dark eyes of Hers, naturally, but disappointment too. Penelope had been so captivated by the need to gain an army that she'd never stopped to consider Adara. This duel was a chance for a young princess to prove herself as a woman worthy of the Spartan throne. The Empress was not at all pleased by the outcome.

Sappho raised a hand and yelled for silence, and the entire arena was instantly quiet save Serena's euphoric panting. She stepped into the arena and walked past the blonde without so much as a glance, to where the Spartan princess lay writhing in the sand as she struggled to free her wrists.

There was no love as She untied Her daughter's bonds and wiped the warm seed from her lips, only a constant sneer of disapproval and shame. It pained the Empress to look Adara in the eyes. "Be gone by sunrise," She said. "Return victorious, or not at all."

No more needed to be said between the Spartan princess and her mother, for that night she gathered all the soldiers in the city who were too young to have seen a war and taken slaves of their own. By the time the sun was peeking over the eastern hills, Penelope and her companions were joined on the road north by an army of two hundred Spartan youths.

Continued in Chapter 27

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