A Tale of Ties and Binds - Chapter 7

Chapter 7. A Settlement of Savages

It always seemed like it was a good idea; a world that runs on slavery. The same way cooking with fire seems a good idea until you burn your fingers. She had once been a matriarch in her prime, captain of a ship with a loyal crew, and a favourite of the Queen. Now Penelope was a slave, stripped of titles and clothing.

The slave cart rolled slowly through the streets of Larissa. The light of the sun was just a dancing glow in the east and the locals were only now beginning to stir. Merchants were setting up their stores for the day's work, whores were going for an early morning walk knowing they'd be spending most their time under the furs, and a mistress from a lesser household was taking a ride in a cart pulled by a pair of nubile young slave girls.

Penelope's arms were still bound tightly above her head, crossed at the wrists, and her legs were tied to pegs in the middle of the cage. The Celtic Knot sigil flapped lazily on a banner overhead as an advertisement of the household's wares. How demeaning it feels, thought Penelope, to be held exposed and on show for the benefit of my rival's purse. I will have my revenge, she promised herself again. However long that may take.

Serena pulled in the reins and the cart stopped just outside the entrance to an underground dungeon - a cobblestone and mud brick mound flying the Celt's family sigil. The slaver dismounted and pounded a fist on the door. A moment later, a group of stripped women were escorted out by a Celt guard. The first was obviously a Spartan by her curved and fertile physique, a large chest and equally large hips, black hair and an unemotional expression; the second was a short girl with tangled mop of blonde and brown hair, scowling blue eyes full of hate; and the third was curiously familiar.

"Captain!" yelled Daphne, prompting the guard to slap her hard on her naked arse. The redheaded captive winced and shot a glare to the heavens before following the line of prisoners. Penelope wondered how Daphne had come to be taken captive by the Celt too.

Serena opened up the cage and led each girl in one by one. The short girl was first, tied in the space next to Penelope with her hands tightly bound through the wooden spokes of the cage behind her and with her ankles tethered to the pegs along the centre line of the floor. Then the Spartan was tied similarly opposite the short girl, their feet brushing together. And finally, Daphne was bound opposite Penelope, hands above her head and an unnecessary rope tied spitefully between her thighs and pinning her midsection to the side of the cage.

"Daphne," whispered Penelope as Serena and the guard mounted up, "why are you here? Did the Celt take you captive too?"

The cart started rolling slowly again as Daphne flexed and strained her arms in their bonds. She was a feisty girl who wouldn't give up easily, and would likely keep struggling until she was untied. "We were without a leader or orders the day you sent us to search the slave market district. Lydia had vanished without explanation, not that we were worried, so Alexis the Binder took command and said we should regroup back at the estate because the sun was going down. We waited there until we finally spotted Lydia approaching on the road under torchlight, flanked by guards we didn't recognise. It wasn't until we met them in the courtyard that we realised they were sworn to the Household of the Celtic Knot. It was quite confusing. And Lydia was wearing your matriarch armour so we asked what had happened to you. She said you were revealed as the traitor all along and that she had taken her birthright as the new matriarch. We couldn't believe it, none of us."

"It wasn't true, Daphne. It was a plot to frame me."

"That's what I told them. We argued amongst ourselves until Lydia shouldered her bronze shield and cracked out her whip - you know the one, the silver Scylla-headed whip with the five tails. She announced that anyone who cared to question her authority was welcome to try. That's when everyone backed down, even Alexis the Binder. Everyone but me. I didn't believe it was possible for you to betray the Queen and I didn't trust Lydia at all. Then I took out my whip too. She tried telling them all that I was disobeying her, trying to steal the title of Matriarch for myself, and some of our sisters believed it. Then they all moved aside and left me all alone, the only one fighting for you. Even Alexis the Binder stood aside, though she looked awfully sad about it. It all went downhill from there. Lydia attacked first and I narrowly dodged all five tails. Then I counterattacked but my whip deflected harmlessly off her shield. She stepped on it before I could draw it back - a coward's tactic - and she snagged my ankle with her next flick. She pulled the ground out from under me and it was over as quick as it'd begun. The Celt's soldiers arrested me as your co-conspirator and brought me to the dungeon." Daphne was still wriggling in her bondage as she tried to find a knot or loosen the coils.

"Thank you," said Penelope. "Thank you for defending my honour when nobody else did."

The cart had travelled well into to countryside by the time the sun was setting. They were climbing the mountains to the west and it was getting chillier the higher they went. Serena and the guard rugged themselves up in furs but left the captives to suffer the cold unprotected. The Spartan called herself Adara and dealt with it the best and barely shivered at all, such was the Spartan determination to show no weakness. It made Penelope wonder how such a strong-willed woman had ended up in a cage, but that was a question she could ask of herself just as easily. Adara didn't talk much, and when she did it was maybe only a word or two. The short girl with blonde and brown hair had revealed herself as Zia, a Dacian war captive taken by the Macedonians. When Daphne had finally pestered the girl's name Zia cursed them all, slaves and slavers alike, as evil. She hated all Greeks, she said, even her fellow slaves. Her nipples were the pointiest in the cold, followed closely by Daphne's and then Penelope's.

They stopped to make camp when the caravan found a cliff to shelter them from the wind. Serena and Guard, who was ever silent and kept her Corinthian-style leather helm on at all times, made a campfire and laid down some furs side by side then hammered some pegs into the ground at both ends. Zia seemed most annoyed at this, and Penelope could only assume that was because she had experienced it before. Serena and Guard tied a rag between Daphne's lips to stop her from complaining about the cold and knotted it under the fall of red hair. They did the same to Penelope who struggled just enough to show she was annoyed; to Adara who accepted the gag with dignity and without so much as a whimper; and to the barbarian Zia who struggled and cursed as loud as possible with her high voice.

Each night this happened, and each night the captors would pick a new captive to lie with. They would release them from the cage and bind them stretched out on the furs next to the fire, hands tied tightly to the pegs above them and feet tied tightly below them. Then the captors would go so sleep on top of the slaves, using their bodies for warmth and their soft breasts for pillows. Adara was particularly popular as she had the softest pillows and never complained, even when her captors took liberties with her helpless body. She would gasp and moan at those times, but elsewise she was silent. Zia and Daphne had decided they'd much rather suffer the cold than the indignity of it all so they always shrieked through their gags until they were either fondled into exhausted submission of exchanged for another slave - who was usually Penelope. But Penelope had chosen it was better to stay warm and pinned to the ground by the campfire under the furs and a warm body than stay bound and exposed in a cold cage all night. Serena smelled quite sweet, in truth, especially her blonde hair. But she was a biter when she dreamt and often startled her bedwarmer with her teeth digging into one of their nipples. Guard was only better if you'd trade the threat of a sore nipple with the discomfort of having her helm rubbing against your bare chest all night.

Travelling during the day became more enjoyable too, insofar as being a sex slave could be enjoyed. It was Daphne who first discovered while struggling in her bondage that her feet were pinned close enough to the others that she could rub her toes along the soft soles of her companions. Penelope was grateful for the distraction and often played along, laughing hysterically to the annoyance of Guard though Serena wasn't too bothered either way. Even Zia's scowl disappeared when her feet were tickled the right way. She had a nice laugh, Penelope noticed, so she'd made a mental note to tickle her more often. Adara, as Spartan as ever, barely even smiled as Daphne rubbed their feet together. Penelope couldn't help but be saddened by that as she'd have very much enjoyed watching those massive milk jugs jiggling in laughter.

The towns they passed through were getting smaller and smaller as they followed the coastline. Many were fishing villages and reminded Penelope and Daphne of the home they left behind. Each village seemed to become less Greek - less civilised - as they continued. Each day and night was slightly colder than the last, and Penelope was increasingly willing to be used as a bedwarmer.

She had grown rather fond of being paired with Serena. There was one night in the hills when it was especially cold, and Penelope had allowed herself to be gagged, untied, pinned to the ground and laid on. Serena had secretly bought some honey from the last town and was saving it for some nocturnal fun with her bedwarmer. Guard had fallen asleep with Adara beneath her, her helmeted head rising and falling in the soft cushion of the Spartan's bust, so they wouldn't ever know. The blonde-haired teenager trickled the sweet goo along the crevice of Penelope's breasts and lapped it up hungrily with her tongue before enhancing the taste with her slave's nipples. That was an effective way of warming each other up. Penelope thrust her hips as most she could into her captor's midriff. If it weren't for the rope keeping her legs stretched below her, she would have wrapped them around her captor and ground against her until she'd scratched the itch.

Serena must have been feeling particularly generous that night because she had a similar idea. She dipped her fingers into the honey and slipped them between her captive's legs, rubbing away and enjoying her slave's gasps and shivers. She used her teeth, tongue and lips on Penelope's nipples, but Penelope really didn't mind this time. Only when Serena felt the slave violently shudder beneath her did she stop rubbing. It was further a more memorable night under the stars when she untied Penelope's gag and kissed her softly, invading her mouth with an inquisitive tongue. Then Serena sat up and smeared more honey between her thighs, and perched herself on her captive's head. Penelope was appreciative of her own sexual release, so she happily licked away at her captor. She was a kind young girl, that Serena, and Penelope wondered how she could ever be related to the Celt. The honey tasted good but the girl tasted much sweeter. Sunrise came and everyone else was none the wiser for what had happened that night under the furs. It was Serena and Penelope's little secret.

After nearly a moon's cycle of travelling, the caravan arrived at its destination of an archipelago in a horn off the mainland. "These people call themselves the Histri," Serena told the slaves. "The warlady comes from a family that is an old friend of my own from before we came to Greece. She'll be your mistress from now on."

The barbarian village was a far cry from the villages of the Aegean, Penelope saw. It was a small community protected by a half-ring of thick wooden palisade. The sea bordered the south side of the village and a sea of mud and grass bordered the rest. Longboats covered the sandy shore - dragon-headed longboats that were more glorified canoes than biremes, but they had sails and oars and a rudder so Penelope supposed it was correct to call them ships.

"The Histri are renowned pirates in these waters," said Serena. "They harass and molest the coastal villages and take the most beautiful for their trophies, girls and phallic slaves alike. When they see the Histri sails on the horizon, many villages will bind their nubile girls to posts driven into the shoreline as a bribe to leave the rest of them be. If the Histri feel insulted by the offer, they raid the village anyway. They take the bribe and as many villagers as they can carry in their longboats and sail for home. Many of the slaves my family sells in Thessaly are captured by the Histri, and we sell them our fair share of captives from our side of the world in return."

The village was stranger still behind the palisade. These barbarians favoured wood and mud over stone, and their roundhouses were an eyesore. Even worse was the large longhouse in the centre of the town - a taller version of the structures around it and no doubt the home of the warlady who would become Penelope's new mistress. The folk were light-haired and pale-skinned barbarians who covered themselves in furs instead of linen or leather. Oddly, they seemed to favour warm arms and legs and loins over a warm chest, as all the women's torsos were left uncovered by their furs. Serena explained this as a custom in these parts, whereby a woman's place in society was established on the size of her chest as a sign of fertility. "They do not decide who is the leader by warfare or wealth or power as they do in the civilised world, but by the size of their breasts. A large chest, it is said, is gifted by the spirits they worship and hence cannot be argued against. To challenge a woman who is significantly more fertile is not only a futile endeavour, but is among the highest of blasphemies."

Other slaves walked the sludgy paths that served as streets with their hands bound by twisted strips of fur to form crude ropes. It looked strangely... comfortable compared to the harsh leather currently tied tight around the wrists of Penelope and her companions. These barbarians' slaves were elsewise dressed the same as their mistresses in fur sleeves, fur loincloths and bare chests.

The cart reined in and the wheels settled into the muddy ground. Serena and Guard dismounted and Serena wondered off while Guard did what she did best - guarded the merchandise. Daphne was still struggling in her bonds when Serena returned with another woman. She had some of the largest breasts Penelope had ever seen (and she'd seen many) out on show. They seemed to sway as if half a step behind the woman and were almost dizzying to look upon. Atop her head was a crown of sorts, or perhaps a helm. It was fur like the rest of her garb, only it was ornamented with a pair of bronze-cast phalluses that added half a head to her height. She must have been the warlady.

The woman looked over the occupants of the cage with dark blue eyes. Had the captives been wearing clothes, she would have been undressing them in her mind. She rattled her knuckles along the wooden bars and snickered before turning back to Serena to say something in her coarse barbarian tongue. Serena nodded and the two shook hands to mark a successful deal.

And just like that, Penelope had a new mistress.

Continued in Chapter 8