A Tale of Ties and Binds - Chapter 31

Chapter 31. A Trickery of Trojans

"We should draw them out," Penelope suggested. "Not all, just some. Lure them into the tree line and have them chase us around for a while. Meanwhile the bulk of our force attacks simultaneously from the south and the east and catches them while their forces are divided."

Xena sneered. "And have them say General Xena of the Athenian Army needed to divide her enemies in order to defeat them?! Bah! I would not give them the satisfaction. Do not forget, Thessalian, I'm still in charge here. I've heard your counsel and it's as cowardly as I expected from you." She slammed her fist on the map. "Won't somebody do something about that noise!"

It had been six days since Adara and her two-hundred Spartans had left. There was still no word from them and Penelope feared for the worst. The larger Athenian force had marched north too, though at a much slower pace. They'd encountered a few more scouting parties along the journey with some being caught and interrogated while others got away. Like before, townships were deserted save a few isolated farms who were only too happy to offer their lands as camping grounds and their homes to the General and her officers. Unfortunately for the General and fortunately for everyone else, the farmhouse of their last location had doubled as a brothel. With the draught and the war, the whores had lost their clientele, and it seemed they were intent on staving off poverty by 'escorting' the army north. None were shy and all were loud. The General could order nothing against the escorts without causing a riot in her own ranks.

They'd made camp in the valley when the outriders had reported they'd spotted the Trojan forces camped just beyond the next hill. The scent of Trojan scouts still lingered in the fabric of the General's tent, even after several days. It was difficult to concentrate on forming a plan for the offensive. Perhaps that was why they'd been at it since dusk.

"I'm trying to keep as many of our soldiers out of bondage, General. I'm not saying your strategy is bad, I'm just saying my strategy is better."

"You're really testing my patience, Thessalian," Xena hissed through gritted teeth. "I should try you for insubordination!"

"Well, you can't." And thank the goddesses for that. "I'm not an Athenian." Thank the goddesses for that too.

"That's quite obvious by your lack of sense." The General grizzled under her breath and grabbed at a folded piece of paper. "Even the Dacians are doing more for this war than you." She flicked the note at Penelope.

The captain curiously began reading the note. It spoke of a certain Dacian warmaiden calling herself Zia the Tall. According to the reports, she and her band of marauders had been systematically raiding through the Thracian tribes, leaving every second village untouched. Those tribes who lost everything have been pleading with their neighbours for help, while those who lost nothing have been taking advantage of their neighbours' vulnerability.  The Thracians were turning on each other and inadvertently leaving the Celt in a weaker position.

"This is excellent news! I once knew a Dacian named Zia. I wonder if she's the same one." If so, that's the second time she's made my life immeasurably easier.

"How should I know?" Xena scoffed. "All barbarian names sound the same to me."

But Penelope didn't share the sentiment. She was good at remembering names. There was one barbarian name she'd never forget: Xarthyrsi.

Earlier in that day, Penelope had received word of the Spartan force's return. She was amazed at first, then excited. Perhaps I underestimated those Spartans, she thought. But her happiness faded away the moment she saw the force returning to the camp.

There was only one. She led a procession of over a dozen horses, each with at least three hogtied captives bound across their back like a living saddle. And she carried Adara's phallic-tipped spear, though she wasn't Adara.

The young Spartan reported a defeat, the words coming out as easily as if they meant nothing. She told of the three-day battle on an old bridge, of the Scythian warmaiden, of the time gained by the Spartan sacrifice, and of her continuing mission to deliver Adara's spear back to her homeland. The news of Princess Adara's enslavement would not please the Empress, but it needed to be done. Penelope bade farewell to the last of her Spartans.

The news of the power struggle in Thrace was welcome news by comparison. General Xena did not seem to care much, however. She was too focused on something else.

"I can't think straight for all the noise! Who let these accursed whores into my camp in the first place? There are too many! Is anyone even keeping track of them? How do we know they're not spies?!"

Genius! "That's it!" Penelope practically leapt from her chair. Either by Xena's words or the smell of the tent, a plan had revealed itself to her. "I shall lead a party of picked soldiers disguised as Trojan whores," she said proudly. "The gullible Trojans will accept us into their camp and drag us into their beds, lured by our luscious figures and submissive finery. Yet concealed in those fine clothes are the strong bodies of able Greeks who will wreak havoc on the Trojan camp from within. They won't realise their foolishness until too late."

Where Penelope had expected the General to dismiss the plan immediately on grounds of cowardice, Xena was instead looking quite pensive. "Am I to understand that, in order to disguise yourselves as whores, we shall need to first arrest every whore in our camp, secure them from escape such that they cannot hope to foil your plan, and then steal their clothes?"

The captain nodded. "I suppose that would be necessary, yes."

A sly grin crept along Xena's lips. "Clever. You may yet make a decent Athenian."

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The order was given and the whores were rounded up and stripped of what little clothing they had. The General, drunk on opportunism, decided it best to tie them all up and gag them just in case some of them were spies. It was a matter of security, she assured Penelope, and had nothing to do with revenge.

The clothes were many kinds of beautiful shades from lush greens to sky blues and ruby reds. Penelope decided on a blue two-piece - to contrast her bronze hair and because it was Peitho's favourite colour. It was tighter than she'd expected and thinner too, such that the rings of her nipples were clearly visible through the almost transparent material. Bathed in thick perfumed aromas, it smelled a blend of every woman Penelope had ever known and was likely to ever know in the future. Small metallic tokens hung from underneath her bust and across her waistline, jingling with every sway of her hips and sparkling as they caught the light. As a woman, she enjoyed the sight of herself in such alluring attire. But as a proud soldier, she felt strangely naked without her form-fitting armour.

Daphne was the image of beauty in her disguise. The redhead was dressed in a green two-piece that matched her eyes, though that was only the fabric. Her plunging brassiere was made of two bronze disks which both did a poor job of stopping her breasts from bouncing around. Likewise, the frilly red skirt was minimal. The lower halves of her arse cheeks were clearly visible. But the captain chose not to contest the choice. If any of her companions could be considered an expert on whores and what they would wear, it was Daphne.

The golden-haired Serena seemed to be missing half her costume. A long red skirt was tied around her waist and belted with a thin chain, but she wore nothing over her impressive pair of breasts. Upon noticing Penelope's concern, Serena clarified that adding to her clothing would merely be cumbersome when the fighting began. She was used to fighting naked during her mud-wrestling, after all, and she'd prefer not to jingle and sparkle in the presence of her foes.

---

With at least another three score Athenian soldiers in scantily-clad disguise, Penelope and her companions sneaked through the trees towards the Trojan camp under the cover of darkness. She kept a watchful eye on the moon's progress through the sky. According to the General, Penelope only had until the moon reached its zenith to cause as much havoc as she could. At midnight, Xena would launch a full-scale attack. She would have to move quickly.

The Trojan camp was alive with music and laughter. Most were half-drunk on cheap wine, dancing around in circles in their scaled leather armour without a care in the world. It was so easy to forget there was a war on that none of them seemed to care that sixty half-naked women emerged from the tree line.

It wasn't long until they were noticed. They had only just come amongst the tents when Daphne was scooped up by a pair of soldiers, then immediately fought over by another three. Apparently redheads were popular among Trojans, though her plunging disk-covered cleavage was certainly a particular point of interest. The dispute between the soldiers was settled when Daphne offered to service them all together at no extra charge. She gave her captain a sly wink as they all skipped away into the privacy of a large tent. Knowing what the redhead could do when she was in the mood, Penelope didn't know whether to be proud or terrified.

As they prowled between the tents and the campfires, more and more of the Greek spies were accosted and dragged off by randy soldiers. Penelope was wondering who would be the lucky Trojan to bed her when she noticed an emblem on the hall tent beside her. She stopped in her tracks and felt the blood boiling in her veins.

Serena grabbed Penelope's arm in passing to keep her moving, maintaining a charming look as best she could. "What's wrong with you!?" the blonde hissed through smiling teeth. "Are you trying to look suspicious?"

"The sigil on that tent... it was mine."

"Yours? Are you sure?"

Mine. "A young girl with limbs locked in the jaws of a five-headed serpent, its fifth head tucked deep between her legs - the sigil of the Household of the Scylla."

"Well why are they fighting alongside the Trojans?"

"Because they're lead by my sister and my sister is the Celt's minion." That foolish girl. "There's every possibility that Lydia is inside that tent, wearing my armour, commanding my soldiers and sleeping with my-"

"How much for the two of you?" asked a woman who appeared from around the corner flanked by two other soldiers. Her pale brown hair was bound in a single long ponytail and dressed with over twenty beads. A bead for every battle. The scaled black armour she wore was more elaborate than most Trojans', finely decorated with jewels and precious metals. Her neckline was so low that it tapered into a point below her magnificently developed breasts, and the hemline of her skirt was so high that it seemed almost redundant. But it was her eyes that were so uniquely remarkable. Her almond-shaped eyes were like blue opals flecked with green and yellow strikes, seemingly impossible.

There was only one woman in the world so beautiful.

"A special offer for you, Princess Andromache," the ever-observant Serena said with a bow. "Buy one, get one free. I'm one, she's free."

The famed Trojan commander smiled. Her smile was as warm as a ray of sunshine. "I'm flattered by your generosity, truly. Perhaps you'd care to join me? My private tent is this way."

How could they turn down a solicitation from a princess? As Andromache's guards ushered them through the camp, Penelope knew she'd somehow found herself in a very hazardous situation. The Trojan commander was one of the greatest warrioresses in the known world and they may have to fight her if things didn't go smoothly. In which case, Penelope doubted she'd be victorious.

Yet despite this obvious peril, she couldn't help but feel distracted. Lydia was somewhere nearby. If that treacherous younger sister were to notice her, the whole plan would be for naught. Penelope would be captured along with every other whore suspected of being a Greek infiltrator. The Trojans would be on high alert and General Xena's attack would not be such a surprise. She looked up at the moon. She didn't have much time left.

The princess' tent was fitting of her stature as a royal. It was broad at the base, tall at the centre and patrolled by a circumference of dishearteningly sober soldiers. Beyond the foyer (how uncommon for a tent to contain a foyer), the candle-lit interior was predominantly soft pillows and silk sheets atop a crude wooden bedframe. Andromache commanded her guards to wait outside as she reclined lazily amongst the cushions, slowly wriggling her way out of her ornate armour. "Please, don't be frightened. I'll only bite if I like the way you taste."

"Then I guess I should expect a few teeth marks," Serena grinned. She lowered herself down onto her hands and knees and crawled into the bedding to nuzzle at Andromache's impossibly soft neck. The princess let out a soft sigh before embracing the blonde in her arms, tracing the tips of her long fingers along the curve of Serena's spine. Serena's lips moved from Andromache's neck up to her lips, while one hand slipped between the princess' armour to grope a delightful breast as her other hand trailed down between her legs.

Andromache held out her hand to Penelope, still standing mesmerised next to the bedding. "There's room for one more," the princess said.

Indeed there was, and Penelope was seriously considering it. How many Greeks could say they've tasted Andromache's lips, drank of her essence, taken the most magnificent breasts below Mount Olympus in both hands and lost themselves in those opal eyes? Not many, for sure. That number would stay small if Penelope did not complete her task, however. She couldn't see the moon, but no doubt it was very high in the sky. She needed to find some rope, quickly. "I was just looking for some wine," she said. "I find the pleasures of the body are always enhanced with a drop or two."

Andromache pointed to a large chest on the other side of the bedding. Her mouth was too full of Serena's tongue to speak.

Regardless, Penelope followed the gesture to the chest and opened it. There was a large jug of wine on one side with several cups stacked beside it. And occupying the rest of the chest were coils upon coils of rope. She poured a generous cup of wine and concealed a handful of ropes out of the princess' sight.

Her caution was entirely unnecessary. Andromache's eyes were shut, though her legs were wide open, Serena's blonde head buried deep within. Penelope pressed the wine to the Trojan's lips. Even the way she drank was perfection.

"Mmm..." the princess moaned. "Tastes like a coming victory. As wonderful as it tastes, I'm sure you'd taste better."

Penelope had no choice. Helplessly, her head was pulled closer to Andromache's. Vulnerably, she parted her lips. Weakly, she stared into those opal jewels and cupped a perfect breast in hand. It was everything she'd imagined and more. When their lips met, Penelope thought Andromache's tongue might have been the softest thing in all the world, though no doubt Serena could attest otherwise.

But she had to keep her wits about her. She passed two coils of rope down to Serena and unravelled another in her spare hand (the other hand was busy exploring). Carefully, she managed to guide one of Andromache's hands up to the corner of the bedding without the princess resisting. All she had to do then was bind her wrists and gag her.

"Planning on tying me up?" the princess asked with a playful smirk. "Because I don't mind. There's rope in the... oh! You've already got some. Well go on, then. Make it tight!"

This seems deceptively easy, Penelope thought. Could the famed commander of the Trojan army really be this submissive? But time was creeping away. "As you wish, Princess." She started binding Andromache's wrists as Serena attended to her ankles.

"It's so stressful being in charge all the time," Andromache continued, "in command of all those soldiers. You don't know what it's like to have to wear that mask of authority, being whores as you are. Ahh, it feels good to surrender, to be completely powerless."

With a final sure knot, the Trojan commander was left spreadeagled atop her bedding. It took every bit of Penelope's willpower not to leap aboard and straddle her face, to feel that impossibly soft tongue exploring the wonder between her thighs. Serena lacked that level of self-discipline, however, and couldn't help but fondle Andromache's perfect pair of breasts while simultaneously suckling at the princess' womanhood. There was something tantalising about the way the princess moaned that made Penelope shiver all over.

Vaarrooooo! Vaarrooooo! Vaarrooooo!

It had begun.

"That's the alarm call," Andromache said with a startle. "We're under attack! Untie me, quickly!"

Serena tore a strip off her red skirt and began knotting it in the middle, grinning devilishly. "Go find your sister, Penelope. I'll keep the princess occupied."

"I have no doubt you will." Penelope crawled over the princess and leapt for the tent's opening.

"What are you doing?!" Andromache's voice called from within. "Untie me, whore! Don't you dare put that in my m-mmph!"

Outside the tent, all chaos had broken loose. The guards had vanished to join the fray and left their princess to fend for herself, it seemed. How selfishly convenient.

The lanes were full of soldiers - Athenians dressed in pristine whites and the Trojans in their scaled blacks. Caught unawares, the latter were quickly folding into submission. The shouts, the horns, the drums, the smells; they all brought back memories from the catastrophic battle of Mytilene on the Isle of Lesbos. The Trojans were more numerous then, and the Thessalian army was unprepared. But not this time. This time it was the Trojans who lay bound and struggling in the dirt as the Greeks chased them down.

Penelope ran freely amongst it all. Her allies recognised her and her enemies didn't care. It seemed a scantily-clad whore was not considered much of a threat given the circumstances. It made no matter that she was running around dressed like one of the Trojan whores. She'd have her armour back soon enough. She'd have it all back soon enough. Not until she passed through the armoury to pick up a whip and a shield did anyone pay her any mind.

It was less a battle than a street brawl. Penelope didn't have the time or the patience to deal with every Trojan who got in her way. Most seemed to understand they'd been bested and were simply looting their own camp before disappearing into the nearby trees. Some fancied themselves the honourable sorts and attempted to fight back in a futile effort to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. When they charged Penelope, she dodged and parried and left them struggling in the dirt, crudely hogtied with their own whips if she bothered tying them up at all.

They were all nobodies, just faceless Trojans without a name who Penelope would forget as soon as she looked away. They meant nothing. There was only one woman Penelope cared to find - only one she needed to find.

Lydia.

Continued in Chapter 32

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