Barbarian Tales 1: Mistress of the Sword - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Emperor's Pleasure

Cleron did not arrive until the afternoon of the second day. It gave Shailaja a little more time to familiarize herself with where she was. During the ten days it had taken to reach the rendezvous point, she had kept track of her movement and knew that their general direction had been toward Prithia. She guessed that they had come far enough to have reached Prithian territory and it made sense that Cleron would meet them here. No doubt he had been looking forward to this meeting from the moment he had arranged her kidnapping.

The thought of her fate at the Emperor's hands weighed heavily upon Shailaja's mind. Much as she hated to admit it, she was not as prepared for the ordeal as she would have liked. She had never known a man and had never expected to be kidnapped and taken by force; and it would have to be by force; her sense of honour would not allow her to submit to Cleron willingly.

Thus it was that she waited apprehensively for the arrival of the man she had refused to marry and who now seemed intent on taking from her what she would not give willingly. It had her on edge for most of the day, causing her to break into a cold sweat when she heard the sounds of Cleron's arrival.

As she had come to understand, Cleron never did anything quietly. He rode into camp at the head of his full bodyguard, some two score or more soldiers. Decked out in polished armour, and mounted on powerful warhorses, they made a noisy and impressive sight as they clattered into the small encampment.

Confined to her tent prison, Shailaja could hear, but not see Cleron's arrival. But she had no trouble guessing who it was. "Where is the redheaded wench?" Cleron roared. "I trust no one has touched her."

"She has not been touched, Excellency," Denov's voice answered. "She is yours to enjoy."

"Show me," Cleron ordered.

Shailaja got to her feet, holding herself with as much dignity as she could muster under her humiliating circumstances. She forced down her fear and stood watching the entrance to the tent. It darkened as Cleron thrust his bulk through it.

"Well, here you are at last," he rumbled. "You cannot imagine how much I've been looking forward to meeting you again. You will learn what it means when a mere girl refuses an emperor. It will be a hard lesson, but you will learn."

Shailaja did not flinch from his glare. Held by the iron collar around her throat, and chained to a heavy stake that had been pounded deep into the ground, she was helpless to do more than return his stare.

He stepped further into the tent and moved to just beyond the length of the chain that held Shailaja. Up close he was even more intimidating and no doubt he expected his presence to thoroughly cow her, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that he had to look up to meet her eyes.

Cleron's eyes narrowed; angered that Shailaja had not fallen to her knees at his entrance. It was an action that was not missed by Zeldon, the captain of his bodyguard. "Why do you stand in the presence of the Emperor?" he roared. "Fall to you knees now."

In spite of her helplessness Shailaja did not flinch. "I will die before I kneel before the coward who had me kidnapped and placed in chains," Shailaja spat.

"You will kneel or I will make you kneel," Zeldon replied. Two quick strides took him across the tent, and one blow of Shailaja's fist sent him senseless to the floor.

"It appears he is doing my kneeling for me," Shailaja laughed. She had put all of her pent up anger and frustration into that punch and knew that the captain would not be getting up anytime soon.

To her surprise a roar of laughter emanated from the Emperor. "You have spirit; I like that. It will be all the more pleasurable when I break you." He turned to his remaining guards. "Pick him up, and see that she is properly restrained, but do not damage her. Any marks on that body I will inflict myself."

The guards did not so much have to worry about damaging Shailaja as they had to worry about not being damaged themselves. In the narrow confines of the tent and restricted by the chain and collar, there was little room for Shailaja to manoeuvre, but she still succeeded in sending two more men to the floor. However, there were simply too many men for her to take them all. She was borne to the floor by sheer weight of numbers and the hated shackles once again locked onto her arms. Held down in a kneeling position by the guards she was finally forced to do what Zeldon had ordered; she looked up at Cleron from a kneeling position, her emerald eyes burning with hatred.

"You are a strong woman," Cleron commented. "As a matter of fact I have never seen one stronger, but you are my prisoner now and I will break you, have no doubt of that. And the breaking," he leered, "will be as pleasurable for me as it will be painful for you."

"Take her to Keltor," he ordered, directing his attention to the guards," and have her properly prepared. I will entertain the princess in my tent as soon as she is ready."

Shailaja was dragged from the tent and across the camp to where a middle aged man was directing proceedings. He and the men he was supervising were in the midst of unloading baggage from several large wagons. "Put those boxes over there for now. I think that spot over there would be perfect for the tent. The foodstuffs…." He stopped speaking as an angry and still struggling Shailaja was dragged forward. "What have we here?" he said, seemingly aghast. "Surely this is not what the Emperor wants."

"That is exactly what she is, Keltor" One of the men holding Shailaja grinned. "The Princess Shailaja."

"But she is a barbarian," Keltor protested, "and filthy to boot."

"That's where you come in," the guard chuckled. "Cleron wants her prepared."

Keltor seemed horrified, but then shrugged. "As the Emperor desires. Bring her to the stream and we will see what we can do," By this time Shailaja had stopped fighting her guards. She stood panting as Keltor and the guards discussed her. At his final statement the guards pushed her forward and she went without protest. She suspected that she would need all of her strength if she was to survive what was to come. She was walked to one side of the camp where a shallow stream splashed over a rocky bed. Shailaja was familiar with it as she had been taken past it on a daily basis when she was taken to relieve herself. However, she had never been given the opportunity to use it for bathing in spite of the fact that she had not bathed since she had been taken prisoner. Kaltarans normally bathed frequently, even during winter, and Shailaja was feeling about as grubby as she had ever felt.

Reaching the stream she saw that a crude rock dam had been built across it creating a small waist-deep pool. At least it would have been waist-deep on a Prithian. Shailaja could see that it would only reach to mid-thigh on her, but any form of bath would be more than welcome. The question was, how to bathe with her arms shackled behind her?

Keltor solved that quickly enough. "Remove her boots and trousers," he ordered, "and then tether her ankles. Then strip the rest off her and release her arms."

Once again Shailaja had to submit to the indignity of being undressed by her male captors, but by now she was used to being ogled by the men of the camp. As Keltor had ordered she was stripped and then led down to the pool. Fighting her captors would have been useless. She was greatly outnumbered and after her outburst in the tent, they took no chances, keeping her ankles tethered, and even tying a rope around her neck before she was allowed to enter the pool.

Careful not to slip on the rocky streambed, she stepped into the water. Like most mountain streams it was chillingly cold, but Shailaja had bathed in such waters before, and immersed herself to her neck, glad for a few moments at least to be out of the lascivious gaze of her guards. Her arms were now free so she was able to use the rough cloth and bar of soap Keltor had given her to rid herself of the dirt and sweat that had accumulated on her body. Her hair was another matter. She had not attended to it since her capture and it took her awhile to unravel the filthy braid and wash out the accumulated debris.

Through it all Keltor and her guards waited patiently by the edge of the pool. In fact her ablutions attracted quite a crowd; half the camp in fact. She ignored them all, studiously concentrating on her frigid bath, however, she could not shut out the prurient comments directed her way.

"She has nipples like the ripest of raspberries," Keltor leered. "And buttocks as round and firm as hams."

Shailaja had never heard her assets compared to cured pork before and hardly found the remarks flattering. Seething with anger at this additional indignity she vowed that Cleron would resent the day he ever laid eyes upon her. However, her heart skipped a beat when Keltor finally became impatient. "Enough," he shouted. "Get her out of there."

A tug on the rope about her neck let Shailaja know that her guards had heard the order. Reluctantly, she stepped from the pool, looking straight ahead of her. It was surprising to her that Cleron allowed his men to speak so freely about her, but guessed that it had something to do with the process of breaking her.

Keltor stopped her on the bank and had her kneel in front of him. Backed up by most of Cleron's men he had little fear that she would defy him. Nevertheless, two of them pressed on her shoulders before she did as she was told. Once again the cruel shackles were applied to her arms just above the elbows. The harsh bindings forced her to arch her back, giving her audience an enticing view of her nude body.

Humiliated, Shailaja was forced to remain on her knees while Keltor attended to combing out her hair. "By rights," he commented, "you should be oiled and shaved, but this will have to do. The Emperor wants you now."

Shailaja had heard of the shameful process of shaving in which proof of a woman's maturity was removed from between her legs and was glad to be spared the shame of such a procedure. As for being oiled, it was a process she was not familiar with, but she could guess what it was.

Two men pulled her to her feet and moved her across the camp. In the time it had taken her to bathe and have Keltor comb out her hair Cleron's impressive tent had been erected. Standing three times the height of a man and dyed in alternating stripes of purple and gold, it was large enough to house two dozen men, but was intended to shelter just one; the Emperor.

Shailaja could not help but be impressed at the rapidity with which the pavilion had been raised. But she was now also very conscious of her nudity. Weaponless, stripped of all garments, shackled so tightly that it even hurt to breathe, and surrounded by enemies, she felt exposed and helpless. Waiting for her in the gaudy pavilion was a man she loathed and feared; a man who intended to subject her to a most unwelcome ordeal.

She swallowed in fear, but then took a deep breath. She was a warrior of Kaltara and would not quake in fear before a worm like Cleron. What he intended to do to her was most dishonourable, but she would survive; survive and take her vengeance.

And then she was inside the tent, facing Cleron. He was waiting for her seated on an ornate travelling bed and clad only in a loose flowing robe of gold thread. Standing on either side of him was a Prithian warrior of unusual size. Neither was as tall as Shailaja, but they were both powerfully built men.

The tent was well furnished, with thick carpets and rich hangings, as well as fine pieces of furniture, but Shailaja noticed little of this, her attention fixed on Cleron. Inside, her heart was beating so furiously she was certain that her fear would be revealed. The men escorting her immediately forced her to her knees and placed their arms on her shoulders to keep her there.

For a few moments Cleron said nothing, his eyes studying Shailaja intensely. Then he licked his lips slowly and deliberately. "Exquisite," he said finally. "You might just be worth all of the trouble it has taken me to get you. It is a pity that you could not have been properly prepared, but in this wilderness setting I have to be content with the way things are."

Cleron turned to the guards. "Leave us," he ordered. I shall see to the Princess now. See that we are not disturbed."

"As you wish, Excellency," one of the guards replied. He bowed and then retired from the tent, taking the other muscular guard with him.

Alone with Cleron, Shailaja looked him squarely in the face, refusing to show fear in spite of the rapid beating of her heart and the cold sweat that had broken out on her body.

"So, Princess," Cleron said. "It is unfortunate that your haughty and stubborn nature has led you to this. It is never wise to defy an emperor."

"I see no emperor before me," Shailaja replied between clenched teeth, just a coward who takes women by force."

"You don't need a tongue to give me the pleasure I seek," Cleron replied. "I should have it removed, but I will leave it for now in order that I can hear your pleas for mercy."

"You will get nothing more out of me," Shailaja answered defiantly. "You will never break me, and I will live to see you die for this,"

They were brave words, but she had never experienced so hopeless a situation, and matters were about to become much worse.

"It is time to tame that arrogance," Cleron growled. Rising from his bed he untied the gold sash of his robe and let the garment fall to the floor. He stood before her as nude as she was in all of his powerfully muscled glory.

Shailaja had seen nude men before; even a few who could not conceal their pleasure when looking upon her. Communal bathing was common in Kaltara and she had frequently gone to the hot springs near the Great Hall and mixed with the others making use of the facility. However, she had never been alone with a man in Cleron's obvious state of arousal. Although lacking her height, Cleron carried double her weight and even though he had allowed his once well muscled body to turn to fat he was still an impressive figure; a fact that extended to his manhood.

Shailaja bit back a gasp, but the widening of her eyes and the involuntary intake of air was not lost on Cleron. "A bit more than you were expecting isn't it, princess?" he grinned, enjoying the reaction of the frightened virgin.

Shailaja fought to control her breathing as she looked upon Cleron. As she had guessed, thick blond hair covered most of his body, giving him a somewhat bear-like appearance. However, it was his horse-like manhood that drew her attention most closely, something that Cleron was quick to notice.

"Do you like what you see?" Cleron boomed. "This could have been yours on the night of a royal wedding had you not been so stubborn. Now it will serve you anyway. I will breed you like a sow and force you to bear me as many sons as can be gotten upon you."

"You are a coward and use rape and bondage instead of facing a warrior in open combat. Give me a sword and I will either defeat you or die in the attempt." Shailaja spat out the words, almost consumed by rage that she should be so helpless to prevent what was about to happen.

If Cleron was angered by her outburst he did not show it. Instead he laughed as he stepped toward her. "I am going to fully enjoy breaking that proud spirit. And the breaking begins now."

Cleron moved directly in front of her, standing so that his thick member was just a hand's breadth from her face. His strong male scent filled her nostrils, and a glistening drop of semen oozed from the tip of his phallus. It should have disgusted her, but to her dismay she felt a treacherous warming between her thighs; one that threatened to betray her sense of honour.

She fought against the feeling as Cleron loomed over her, his massive bulk threatening to swallow her. She strained against the heavy irons that held her arms, her chest heaving with the effort and her spectacular breasts quivering.

Her efforts did nothing but excite Cleron further. "Now, warrior," he said, his voice indicating his excitement, "you are about to become a woman." He stooped and picked her up, lifting her one hundred and seventy pounds as if she weighed no more than a feather, and while she continued to struggle carried her to his bed. Tossing her onto the thick bear hide coverlet he took the time to remove the tether from between her ankles and then placed his hands on her knees.

In a last desperate effort to avoid her fate, Shailaja fought to resist his actions, but Cleron was far too strong. He forced her long legs apart and moved between her thighs. Shifting his weight forward, he placed his hands on Shailaja's hips, drawing her to him. Laughing at her last futile efforts to escape, he thrust forward, his heavy shaft parting her soft petals.

He took his writhing victim slowly at first, letting her experience the full effect of the gradual penetration. Shailaja let out a moan of fear and frustration as she felt the huge member enter her. "No," she gasped. "You cannot do this."

"You refused to accept me of your own free will," Cleron replied, "now I take you by right of conquest." Grunting like a boar, he plunged into his quivering victim, tearing through the thin barrier that protected Shailaja's virginity. She gave a sharp cry as her maidenhead was taken, more out of shame and fear than pain, and then moaned as he took her deeper forcing her body to work against her. Hatred and anger flared within her, but something else as well. Try as she might she could not hold back a rising tide of passion as her body responded to Cleron's violent intrusion.

Cleron felt huge inside her, a sensation amplified by the brutal manner in which he enjoyed her. To say that her first time hurt would have been a bit of an understatement. She was, as Cleron has stated incredibly tight and he made no effort to be gentle, gripping her backside tightly and penetrating her with hard strong thrusts, each one deeper than the last, until he had buried his shaft fully within her. Then, using the full length of his staff, he rhythmically rode her, increasing his speed until he finally grunted as he released into her.

His lust temporarily satisfied, Cleron withdrew from his trembling victim. He left Shailaja unfulfilled and panting with barely repressed desire, something she welcomed given the fact that surrendering to her own carnal desires would have been far too shameful.

"You are now a vessel for my seed," Cleron said, triumphantly, noting the splattering of blood that signalled he end of Shailaja's virginity. "A brood mare for the warriors I will produce."

Overcome with shame and rage, Shailaja spat in his face. "You will never break me," she shouted. "I will never be your empress."

"Empress?" Cleron laughed, ignoring the spittle that ran down his cheek. "Of course you will never be empress. I could not possibly have a woman as empress who has not taken the care to preserve her honour." He laughed even louder, and then picked up a cup of wine from a table by his bed. "Would you like some, princess? It is a very fine vintage."

Cleron's cynical attitude left Shailaja speechless. She had thought that to first seek an alliance through marriage and then to kidnap and take her by force was the height of perfidy, but Cleron had taken treachery to depths she would not have imagined.

She was the prisoner of a man who had not the slightest sense of honour, but she had no immediate fear of Cleron's threat to impregnate her. In Kaltara it was the custom of all nubile young women to drink a tea made from the leaves of the senna bush; a powerful contraceptive. Although Shailaja had shown little interest in mating with any of her fellow warriors, she had dutifully drunk the brew, thus affording herself protection against an unwanted pregnancy. She had no intention of explaining this to Cleron. Let him think that he had impregnated her; it might give her the time she needed to escape. But it would have to be soon, the senna provided protection for only about a quarter of a moon.

Cleron was still holding out his cup of wine. Upending the cup he drained it and then refilled it. "Not thirsty, princess?" He lifted the cup and slowly poured it over Shailaja's face, breasts and belly. Then, tossing aside the cup, to her further disgust he began to lick the spilled wine from her body. He started at her belly and slowly worked toward her head, pausing for several hundred heartbeats at her breasts, and then proceeded to her neck and finally her face. Locking his fingers into her hair to prevent her from moving her head, he ran his tongue over her cheeks, avoiding the efforts she made to sink her teeth into him.

He laughed again at her anger, and then lifted himself above her once more. Incredibly, his weapon was fully restored and he put it to immediate use. This time he proceeded more slowly, teasing Shailaja's sweet petals as he parted them and then sliding gently into Selene's grotto. If anything the second violation was worse than the first; not because of the pain, although there was a little of that; but because of her reaction to what was being done to her. This time the warming of her body could not be contained. As Cleron rode her for the second time her hips rose to meet his and her body moved in concert with his rhythmic penetration.

Her passion did not go unnoticed. "The barbarian maiden is tamed," Cleron crowed. "And so easily." He bent his head to her breasts, the touch of his lips on her nipples bringing another moan from Shailaja and then he bit hard forcing a scream from her lips.

"Pleasure and pain, princess," Cleron panted, thrusting hard into her again.

Pleasure and pain. Helpless to control her desires, Shailaja moved with him as he rode her, her passion increasing with every movement of their bodies until the world seemed to explode within her. With a cry she arched upward, her loins contracting with such strength that her vision blurred and she almost fainted.

Cleron continued to drive into her, keeping her at a level of excitement that had her trembling with fervour, until he released into her for the second time, once again satisfying his urges. He left Shailaja so weak and sore she could barely move. It was a condition Cleron seemed to understand.

"Do not worry my pretty barbarian. The tenderness will pass. It is the price you pay for mating with a real man."

Shamed by her reaction, Shailaja lay where she was, her breasts rising and falling with her heavy breathing. She offered no resistance as Cleron tied her ankles for safekeeping.

Seemingly tired from his efforts, the Prithian emperor slept alongside her. Burning with shame, Shailaja found little rest, until she too fell into an exhausted sleep. But she did not sleep undisturbed. Sometime well before morning, Cleron awoke. He used her as he had before. Still sore from her previous experience, Shailaja was slow to respond, but eventually her traitorous body betrayed her once again and she cried out as her body convulsed once more.

Cleron took her twice more before morning. It was a rough introduction to the ways of men and left her body aching in more places than she had ever thought possible. Worse than the physical pain, however, was her mental anguish. Shackled and shamed, her body stinking with Cleron's scent, she had been brutally dishonoured. As sleep once more claimed her exhausted body she vowed to be avenged or die in the attempt.

Continued in Chapter 5

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