The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

-1-

Once mounted on their horses, the Princess and Gordia rapidly overtook and passed the twin rows of jogging warrior slaves. They arrived at the port in advance of the Strike Force. There Gordia saw the new ship, the Draggon, laying at anchor along side the Lightening. It was an unusual sight. The Princess’s new galley was about half the length, but much less than half the bulk, of her first swift galley. It was, as the Princess had explained, low to the water and without mast. With its carved prow and stern it looked the Dragon of its name. With its short, thick oars thrusting just above the waterline, it looked to have furled wings. It seemed ready to soar aloft.

Standing at brace before the ship were twenty sturdy galley slaves, there to supplement the warrior slaves. There were a few oar boys standing about, as well. Behind them lay the bulk of the ship. The wood had been stained the blue gray of the sea, but the Draggon’s open mouth—for air intake—had gleaming white teeth, and shining in its head were scintillating red eyes. Gordia could imagine it gliding from the fog, appearing like a true Sea Serpent. Then it would spew forth its warriors, gleaming swords drawn, ready to strike! She could imagine the terror it would bring to her Princess’s enemies. She and the Princess climbed aboard.

The deck rose less than two feet above the water and was surrounded by a low railing. It was curved, like the rest of the ship, and shaped for speeding across the seas. There was a tight fitting hatch that one of the Princess’s guards raised and the two descended the narrow ladder into the hold. There Renda, the overseer from the Lightening, was waiting to conduct a tour. He was a big muscled Nubian, with shaved head and a short leather kilt from which hung his slave driver’s belt. “Gordia, you know Renda, he’ll be chief Overseer of the Draggon. Renda’s task is to drive these slaves as hard as possible, without damaging them. Your task is to train them to be happy with their fate...”

The galley was one open chamber below the deck. Hazy circles of light penetrated from the overhead ports, closed tight with clear crystal. Down the middle there was a long cabinet the length of the ship, filled with bins and barrels of all the materials needed for the oarsmen. On either side were the oar benches, narrow walkways between the oar rows and cabinet. The only open area was in the prow, where a grill gave some privacy. There Gordia could see some padded cabinets and a divan for the Princess. A narrow stair led into the Draggon’s head.

The three climbed from the ship back to the dock as the Strike Force was running onto it. The rhythmic cadence of their bare feet slapping the wood in unison made the dock reverberate. Vig brought them to a halt across the dock, facing the Draggon. The Princess strode between the double row of warriors and the row of galley slaves.

“Attend carefully to my instructions! Before you lies the Draggon! It is the swiftest galley ever! It is your rowing that will make it the fastest! But it is more than just a speedy ship! It is my long arm to strike my enemies! Aboard will be my fiercest fighters. You will all row to battle and strike quickly—strike hard! Then you will speed away, a Draggon indeed!

“You all know your duties. Renda is chief Overseer. Obey him as you obey me! You are all experienced galley slaves and know what I demand of you. You warriors will row with the others. You galley slaves and oar boys will respect and serve the warriors. But for the size of the ship, the Draggon will be run like the Lightening. The difference is that you will usually sleep in shifts at your benches—except when you must all row the swiftest. There are a few hammocks and hard rowing will be rewarded with hammock rest. We must be even stricter with you aboard this galley than we were aboard the Lightening. You must submit to the Rule of Work, Obedience and Silence with even greater exactitude! In all these things, I know you will not fail me! For the next few days you will train. Then you will prove yourselves, first by racing the Lightening, then by speeding into battle! Board now!”

The Princess turned to the ship as Vig and the Overseer raised their belts, driving the galley slaves and warrior slaves alike to the open entry ports of the Draggon. To the sharp cracking of the belts against the slave’s backs and buttocks, all were hustled into the galley. Gordia understood that the belts were not necessary to move the slaves, but, their use would force the slaves to focus completely, submit utterly to the task at hand, without thought or reservation.

Once below deck, the warriors’ armor was removed and stored above the benches and all the slaves were secured to their places. All fell silent until the Princess’s clear voice called out, “Man the oars! Row!” As the drums beat, the oarsmen moved in unison to give life to the Draggon. They maneuvered from the port, feeling how easily the light vessel handled. Shortly they were rowing rapidly around the Princess’s isle. The galley glided swiftly across the smooth seas, faster than any rowed or sailed ship had ever moved before.

For some time the Princess stood high in the prow of the galley, gazing out the Draggon’s mouth, feeling the strong draft of wind streaming through the ship, listening to the drum beat, to the unified “Huh!” of the oarsmen. Then she descended to the benches, where, in the first row, Bragg and Fortus strained at their oar, sweat gleaming in the dim light, on their bulging muscles. She nodded to them, “Stop rowing.” They responded at once, pulling their oar in, locking it under the walkway on which the Princess stood. Their mistress leaned down and released the latches that held their wrist cuffs to the oar, and slave belts to the deck. She barked the command “Stand to brace!” and the two slaves jolted up, snapping their wrist cuffs back into the latches at the backside of their slave belts. Then she released their ankle cuffs.

The Princess nodded with satisfaction at their immediate compliance. Pointing to the prow, her voice grew mild, “This way...” The two joined her on the walkway. Placing her hands on their massive shoulders, she guided them forward, smiling with even greater satisfaction as she noticed the big slave’s erection beginning to thrust from beneath the leather strip that connected the front and back of his belt.

Once in the private section of the prow, the Princess motioned the younger slave to remain. She walked the bigger slave to the prow steps, pushing him up. The Princess climbed beside the warrior, squeezed together with him, so they could both see through the Draggon’s mouth. She wrapped her arms around Bragg, then let one slip to find his erection. She handled it while she spoke softly. “I have a great feeling of power, standing here, above the rushing waves, with one of my favorite slaves. Having you and using you gives me great pleasure. I am sure you agree that I use you well. I use your every skill of body and mind. And now you will help save my Family’s Empire! You are a slave among slaves indeed! And I love you greatly for what you are. You are mine, and you always will be—mine, completely.” After standing silently with Bragg, she backed down the stairs, bringing the warrior slave with her.

She led the two slaves to the divan. It was oval and just large enough for both slaves to be bound to it, close together; nearest legs and arms overlapping, bound together. Their mistress bolted them to the divan and stood above them, admiring their taut physiques, stretched before her.

Straddling their bound legs, she grasped each of their penises, stroking them to greater hardness. Pulling their engorged cockheads toward each other, she ordered them to “Arch together!” She leaned down to kiss and suck the two erections where they rubbed against each other. She knew that the oar mates could have no greater joy than to give themselves to her, together. So she sucked and stroked until they both erupted into her mouth, pumping their manseed in unison. After she was sure she had drained them completely, she leaned back, to gaze directly into their faces. Keeping her grip on their still rigid manhoods, waiting for their panting breathing to calm, she joked, “You release together the way you row together, strongly, as one, and without holding back in the least. This pleases me; I will take this offering from you as often as I choose...” She stroked their erections some more, leaning down again to taste the last few drops they had for her.

The Princess stood back, released the latches, ordered her slaves to “Stand to brace!” The two jumped up and snapped into position, standing stiffly, waiting for their mistress’s next order. She stood between and nearly against the two, reaching to touch their muscular chests, to rub her hands down their hard flanks. Donna Alexandra remained near her slaves, breathing in their aromas and their warmth. Then she leaned even closer and up, nuzzling against the big slave’s broad shoulder and neck. She turned her head toward Fortus, “Come behind me; stand against me. I want to be between you both...” The young slave complied, pressing against his mistress. The Princess squirmed between the two, feeling her warm breasts squeezed between their hard chests; feeling their flaccid penises firming once more against her belly and buttocks. Wrapping her arms around Bragg, she closed her eyes and just luxuriated in the closeness she felt to her warriors. It was almost without effort that Bragg’s erection entered her, sliding smoothly and deeply into her, causing her to reach a shuddering climax. Then she reached up, suckling over and over again on the brawny slave’s neck, leaving a trail of red marks, some deepening to purple.

Bragg never felt more hopeless, yet more in love, than when he was with his Princess like this, bound and spent from pleasing her—open and available to her; submitting to her in every way. After a short while, Donna Alexandra pulled back, telling them, “Your labors here have pleased me. But that is your duty. You get no special privileges.” Looking Bragg directly in the eyes, “Then, as always, you return to the benches; see to it that your labors there please me also!” Taking a firm grip on one buttock of each slave, she pushed them back to the oar benches. They quickly stood at their places and their mistress stepped between them, to latch their wrist cuffs back to the oar. Then she took the chain from their slave belts and latched them to the floor, following that with the ankle cuffs, carefully placing their strong feet onto the board they pushed against as they rowed. As the Princess stepped back to the walkway, the two slaves pushed their oar back into the water and began to row to the incessant timing of the drum.

The Princess called out to the drummer and the drivers, “The slaves have taken their ease long enough! Quicken the pace! I want more speed, then again more speed from this ship!” The Princess knew that, to test this new ship, she must drive the galley slaves to the point of breaking. They had to be driven to row harder than they had ever rowed, then harder again. The trick would be to drive them to the breaking point without breaking so many of them that her Strike Force would not be ready for its first battle. She knew these slaves. They were her best. She could trust them to give their all. Here would be their test; a test without mercy. Here they would become even hardier, stronger, more willingly controlled, to offer themselves beyond what mere flesh could endure, mind-enduring for the love of their Mistress.

The drums beat harder; the belts cracked louder, and the ship surged forward to the strong “Huh!” of the toiling galley slaves.

-2-

A few days of hard rowing toughened the crew to the demands of this lighter and faster ship. Bragg, like the rest of the galley slaves, had learned to stop thinking when the drums beat. Each stroke of the oar was all that mattered. For these past days, his mistress drove the oarsmen without mercy. He half remembered the Princess, with belt in hand, squatting near to them, shouting at them to row all the harder, striking left and right, driving them over and over again to exhaustion. The oarsmen were taken to the deck in shifts, eight at a time, latched down to hooks, washed down with buckets of cold sea water. Mistress was there, salving their bruises. They were allowed to rest a short while, before being hustled back to the benches for more hours of mind-numbing, hard rowing.

Yes, a few days of hard rowing had toughened the crew to the demands of their Mistress. The Princess knew they were ready. She could feel the ship surge forward under her command. So she had them row back to port where she would permit them a day of rest before the more severe test of battle.

There was a warehouse shed right by the Draggon’s dock. It had been fitted out for the galley slaves, for those rare occasions when they were kept at the docks. It was a clean open barn inside. Polished wood flooring, several rows of six-foot wooden stalls. Each had a plain, wide wooden bench along the backside, with two woolen blankets. Each pair of oarsmen were brought into a stall, where the chains attached to their slave belts were latched to a short chain bolted to the center of the floor. They had enough freedom of movement to sit or lay on the bench, but not enough to go beyond the open stall entry.

Bragg and Fortus were latched in place and left alone. Bragg nodded to the bench and they both sat. Fortus moved right next to his oars mate. Bragg smiled at him and leaned back. They nodded off together and did not notice the Princess enter the stall. She stepped to the bench, knelt on it, and wrapped her arms around the two, smiling broadly at them, pulling the younger slave close against the older, “It pleases me to see two of my slaves happy together.”

The Princess then squatted before them, pushing Bragg’s legs apart. Moving closer, she could see the bigger slave’s erection growing. The man’s massive testicles hung freely; his erection bulged. The Princess moved forward to suck the testicles fully into her mouth. As she tasted and manipulated the testicles, the big slave grew even harder. After enjoying the taste and aroma for a few moments, the Princess drew back, replacing her mouth with her hands. With one, she fondled the testicles, with the other, she fingered the shaft, sliding forefinger along it. She continued to stroke and fondle the big slave, then told him, “Give yourself...” She sucked his erection deeply into her mouth. At that command, Bragg gave himself entirely to his mistress’s manipulation and erupted into a shuddering release. She then repeated the procedure with Fortus, knowing that Bragg was watching closely while his oar mate offered yet more manseed to his Mistress.

Holding both slaves together, she nuzzled against them, feeling their pounding hearts slowing in unison. Then she stood, “Now I want you to lay down and sleep. You will be resting here tonite and tomorrow. At dusk tomorrow we row.” With the Princess guiding them, the two muscular slaves stretched out on the bench, heads at opposite ends. “Tonite I stay here, to encourage all my warrior slaves. Later I may be back; you two would make a comfortable bed for my rest. Now close your eyes. Breathe slowly as Gordia taught you... let your minds be at ease... Remember, Work, Obedience, Silence. Now breathe in together, hold, breath out. Repeat as you fall deeper and deeper asleep.” The slaves closed their eyes and began to breathe the deep breaths of sleep as their mistress turned to the next stall.

Later, Donna Alexandra returned to where Bragg slept. She pulled off her tunic and climbed onto the bench, lying full across her slaves, head on Bragg’s softly breathing chest. She dozed off.

Still later, the Princess awoke to notice her warrior slave lying awake. The big man was still and breathing quietly. The Mistress pulled herself up, so they were looking eye to eye. “What are you thinking about?” “Th’ battle.” “Speak freely; what are your thoughts?”

“Mistress, th’ mo’ th’ Fight’rs know o’ your plans befo’ th’ battle, th’ bett’r we can fight. A map o’ th’ fort we attack an’ your ord’rs—do we take prison’rs, booty? Do you need mo’ field hands, galley slaves?” “Good. There is a map we’ll see together. I had not thought about captures and prizes. These are rebels, traitors. They should all die. But, if a few of the younger, heartier ones are taken captive, to be trained to the bench or fields... traitors should die, but, strong backs are always useful... Let’s go look at the map. Your mate can sleep here ‘til we return.” The Princess released her slave and led him from the stall, handling his strongly muscled back and buttocks as they walked together, his massive arms latched behind.

The map was spread on a table by the warehouse entrance. There the Princess continued to handle her warrior slave, standing close by him, as they looked at it. The point of attack would be against a derelict fort on a small isle a few dozen miles from the Capital’s port. Since the revolt, it had become a haven for pirates. Captured, it would serve as a base to raid the Capital and rescue the King-Emperor.

“My warriors must strike hard, seize the fort, regroup and strike for the Capital with no delay. The Lightening will follow, wait at the fort, and row the King Emperor to safety after the Draggon rescues him. What would be your plan of attack?”

Bragg studied the map while his Mistress stood close behind, resting her head against the slave’s hard, broad back. Bragg’s arms were, of course, latched behind, to his belt—the Princess pushed her hands between the slave’s arms and his firm sides, wrapping one arm around the tight belly, letting the other fall to his hefty but limp penis and heavy hanging testicles. The Mistress was pleased that her slave was concentrating on the map, while still remaining available for her dallying. The Princess enjoyed the power she had over her slaves. She especially enjoyed mastering this slave; using him every way, but always returning him to the discipline of the benches. Of course she loved the big slave, but that love was one that demanded unconditional mastery.

While the Princess thought through her feelings, Bragg sought to think. Thought was carefully discouraged among the galley slaves. His warrior training was beyond the level of thought and was now purely instinctive: acts of violence were instantaneous and without thought, like acts of love. The hard labors at the bench required a suppression of thought, and so the Code of Work, Silence and Obedience became the only thought for the galley slaves. Now Bragg had before him a map, and behind him a Mistress who wanted him to think about it. The thoughts he had were nearly wordless as he saw the whole of the island and the fort they would attack.

“Explain how you would attack...” The Princess’s words echoed his nascent thoughts. “Here, here and here...” he nodded, “this is the weakest point.” The Princess released her slaves’ right arm, to allow him to indicate the routes and points of attack. She marked them. Then she took the slave’s massive arm and re-latched it back, noting how the firm muscles did not resist her. “Any other thoughts?” “Aye Mistress, ye said th’ Light’ning an’ th’ Dragg’n would race. Sure, Dragg’n’s faster...” The warrior slave paused and smiled, " ‘twould be best t’ save th effort f’ th’ battle. P’haps th’ Light’ning could tow th’ Dragg’n part way instead...” “Good thought, slave. We’ll see...” With that, the Princess pulled her arms together, wrapping the slave in a hug, chuckling softly as the big man relaxed to his Mistress’s grip.

At that moment Vig arrived. The Princess pointed the weak spots to him, “Now take this slave back to his stall. You may drill him there for a while, but then let him rest. I want all the slaves well rested for the labors and battle to come.” Vig snapped a sharp, “Aye Mistress!” and roughly grabbed Bragg between the buttocks to hustle him away from his Princess. The Princess continued to study the map.

Back at the stall, Vig just stated, “I’ll drill ya like when ya were my trainee—ya remember how.” Bragg stood stiffly at brace, a slight smile crossing his stern countenance as Vig ordered him into the first position. He struck he slave sharply across the buttocks. “Wit’ th’ rebellion we haven’t trained like this fo’ too long. Mistress will hold a grand feast when we rescue th’ King. P’haps she’ll Exhibit us then. ‘Twould be a great reward t’exhibit before the mighty...” The two worked at the various positions, and at smooth transitions from one to another, for an hour or more. He walked Bragg to the bench and put him by his sleeping oar mate. He stroked the big slave’s shoulders and back as he fell asleep, telling him, “Of all the galley slaves I’ve broken an’ trained, ya’re th’ best. I learn th’ mystic Way o’ th’ Warrior from ya, an’ ya learn the obeying o’ Exhibit from me. An’ ya must give more than th’ oth’rs, t’ please our Princess an’ Mistress...”

The next day passed quietly as the galley slaves were fed and told to rest. They would board ship at nightfall. Bragg and Fortus stayed close together and mostly dozed against each other, saving their strength for the efforts the Princess would expect of them.

The Princess continued careful preparations for the attack, ordering all things as Bragg had suggested, without anyone knowing the source of her plans. The Lightening would tow the Draggon most of the way to the fort. It would remain nearby to help when the fort was secured. The larger ship was loaded with extra supplies and most of the Princess’s guards would be with it too.

The Draggon would have just the warrior slaves, its extra oarsmen, the Princess, Gordia, Vig, Sam and a few guards. It would move swiftly and take the fort in the middle of a moonless night, the day after leaving the Princess’s Isle. Gordia assured the Princess that the warriors had especially trained for night fighting, “They are like shadows my Princess, they strike hard and disappear into the dark.” The Princess wanted the ships to remain at the fort not more than two days after it was taken. Then the Draggon would launch its surprise raid on the Capitol to rescue the King Emperor. The Lightening would meet the Draggon on the seas to receive the King and return him to her Isle.

At dusk the warriors and oarsmen were run in two rows from the warehouse to the dock where a large map of the fort had been set up, their hard feet slapping against the wooden planking. As the galley slaves were put aboard, the warriors were lined before the map. Then the Princess strode to it, turned and looked at the warrior slaves. She saw hearty fighters, well-muscled from their years in her fields and at her oar benches. Standing, however, tall and stern, like the warriors they had been trained to become. While they were still geared as galley slaves, with their arms latched back to their slave belts, they also wore sword and dagger, marks of their special status as her Strike Force.

“I am so very proud of you, my slaves! You have been singled out from my oarsmen and field hands for the special honor of bearing sword for me. Now you face your test of courage. Tonite and tomorrow the Draggon will be towed near the fort you see mapped here. Tomorrow night you will swiftly row to it and, silently, in the dark, you will seize it. You will be divided into three teams, to attack as follows...” The Princess turned to the map and explained the plan of attack. Then she concluded, “I want this fort taken. I am not interested in captives or booty, though you may spare the lives of the youngest and strongest of the pirates—I can always use more galley slaves. When this task is completed, you will rest a day or two, then strike out for the Capitol and your real test. There, all your skills as silent fighters will be needed as we—for I will be with you—sneak through the city sewers and rescue the King-Emperor! Now is the time when our Code of Work, Obedience and Silence will be proved! Be proud! Be prepared for death. Be prepared for victory!”

Vig took command, ordered three cheers “Fo’ our Princess an’ Mistress!” When the cheering ended, he ordered the warrior slaves to jog into the waiting Draggon where they were latched to their oars, among the other galley slaves. The Draggon was quickly rowed to the open sea where the Lightening waited. Heavy ropes were attached for towing. The sounds of the Lightening’s drums, and of the drivers’ belts, and the “Huh!’ of its larger crew as they strained at the oars, reached the Draggon. Its oarsmen were silent as they rested at their benches, preparing for the test to come. Shortly, the Lightening was moving swiftly, pulling the smaller ship in its wake.

-3-

The Princess was in the Draggon during the quiet hours while it was towed. She went among her warriors, hand feeding them bits and strips of dried beef and liver, “For courage...” When at the last she came to Bragg, in the first row, she stepped down to the bench and straddled it, close against her slave. With one hand she fed the big man and his oar mate, with the other she stroked his strong back. She massaged the massive shoulder muscles, working her hand down the hard and trim lats to the firm waist and muscled buttocks.

The Princess’s hand was stronger than would be expected and kneaded her slave firmly. The Princess was not some weakling damsel; her years of handling her field hands and galley slaves had strengthened her. She was never happier than when she was with her galley slaves aboard her swift ship. She was the Amazon Princess indeed.

Now, this more intimate ship, with the best of her slaves, brought her a joy that even overcame the dangers of the political crisis. If she could, she would remain aboard the Draggon and have it rowed forever. When the war was over and the Empire secured, she might do just that: row westward, through the Gates of Hercules, to see what western lands of Hyperborean were really beyond the island Dyonisis Columbo had so recently discovered. There would be empires and kingdoms to conquer there.

But now, she would enjoy the pleasures of mastery, so she fed and stroked this best of her warrior slaves, speaking quietly, “Possessing this ship—its oarsmen—is a great pleasure to me. Yet, I risk it all for Empire. You must succeed. If you fail, we all will die. Your success will guarantee that you will be here with me, to row, to please me in all ways...” The Princess rested her head against Bragg’s strong shoulder, closed her eyes. Soon, she was fast asleep. Bragg dozed off, leaning against the oar, with Fortas sleeping at his other side. The ship moved on with the “Huh!” of the Lightening’s oarsmen drifting in from ahead.

Hours later, they all awoke to the rocking of the ship as the tow lines were released. The Princess stretched against Bragg, reached forward to handle the big slave’s sleep hard manhood, stroking it to rigidity, “Row hard, fight hard and we’ll put this to good use when your duties are done!” “Aye! Mistres!” “Good! That’s what I want, enthusiastic slaves who’ll put everything into each task I set for them!” She hugged her slave and stood from the bench. Once on the walkway she turned to the oarsmen and spoke loudly, “No slacking now! Row hard! Tonite you battle!” Then to the overseers, “Row them easy a while, feed and drain them, then quicken the pace, and quicken it again; I want to attack after nightfall. When you use your belts, avoid striking the warrior slaves much. I want them strong for the battle!” The Princess strode to the bow, motioning Vig and Sam to follow. The two tall guards, one blond and the other redheaded, now geared the same as the warrior slaves, followed.

Donna Alexandra pulled off her tunic and sprawled, face down on the divan. “Vig, Sam, massage me. Sleeping up against that galley slave left me sore. I suppose they get used to sleeping like that.” Vig knelt on the divan and began to slowly and deeply massage his mistress’s back while Sam gently massaged her slim feet. The Princess had them taught massage so this relaxing pleasure would always be available to her. “Vig, you’ve trained the big slave for exhibit; I want you to train him to massage too. Have him brought here now—he can watch while we question him about battle plans...” Vig barked a quick “Aye!” and ran off. He returned in a few moments with a confused looking Bragg, ordered him to stand at brace and went back to massaging his mistress. The Princess leaned up to look at the warrior slave standing still at brace before her. The big slave’s wrists were latched to the back of his wide slave belt. He was breathing deeply from his exertions on the bench; his skin was glistening with the sweat of those efforts. His muscles bulged hard in the dim light.

“Slave, watch my guards massage me. I want you to learn these techniques. And pretend, for a while, that you are a commander and not a galley slave. Tell us how you would order the battle that you were just rowing us toward. But do so quickly, I want you back on the bench, where you belong.” The Princess lay down again, and Vig and Sam went back to massaging her. “Aye Mistress. “Tis a stronghold, but wi’ weak spots. If we silently gain th’ walls where th’ map was marked, we ken carry th’ battle wi’ ease, for pirates be not hearty fighters. Let th’ Strike Force be divide’ int’ two forces t’ take the two main points; but let me take a handful t’ sneak in th’ third—we meet in th’ center an’ slaughter th’ garrison in their sleep. They are but pirates an’ rebels an’ should be drunk asleep when we attack! An’ Mistress, how do we know which t’ spare, t’ take for your slaves?” “The youngest ones are easiest to break in. Kill the rest. Now back to the bench.” “An’ Mistress..” “Yes, slave. You are talking too much, one more thing only.” “Aye. May I explain t’ th’ warriors th’ plan o’ battle?” “Of course. Go back now; tell them what you told us; but do so quickly—when the overseers quicken the pace, my warriors will need to concentrate on their rowing.” “Aye!” Bragg turned from watching his mistress being massaged and ran back to the benches. As he went, he saw himself, after the battle, being permitted to touch his Mistress like Vig did, hands unbound.

From the walkway Bragg spoke in a loud voice to the warrior slaves at the benches, “Our Mistress has a message for me t’ give you all. Warriors, lis’n while you row!” He outlined the plan as he had told it to the Princess. “...an’ when th’ battle’s done, an we have proved ourselves, th’ rescue o’ th’ King-Emperor is our Mistress’ next task for us. We will row an’ strike an’ row an’ strike as th’ strong arms o’ our Warrior Princess!” Done, he stepped down to the bench where an oar boy quickly latched him beside Fortus. The two began to row in time to the drum beat. The overseers quickened the pace and the Draggon leapt forward, speeding to its destination.

-4-

It was after dark when the rowing pace was slowed. Under Vig’s direction, the warrior slaves stopped rowing while the remaining galley slaves continued. The warriors were released and permitted to take their armor from its storage above their heads and quickly don it. Short black hooded ponchos were passed among the warriors, to cover their armor and prevent any noise. Lamp black was used to darken their arms and legs. They would be nearly invisible in the moonless night. They were each given ropes for scaling the walls and binding prisoners.

The oarsmen were stopped and the Draggon bumped against a beach, prepared to spew forth its swordsmen. The Princess was waiting where the warriors clambered out of the ship to climb down rope ladders to the sand spit they were beached against. As they went by, she spoke softly, “Fight hard... battle bravely... strike hard and fast...” As Bragg passed, the Princess squeezed his bulging upper arm, “Win for me, slave...”

The warriors pushed the Draggon back to sea, then jogged along the sand spit toward the isle where they could see the walls of the fort against the dark, starry sky. The men were completely silent as they divided into three strike teams and separated to far points on the wall. Each team leader hooted when they reached their attack point. After the third hoot, the ropes went over the walls and the warriors up and into the sleeping fort.

Bragg had whispered to Fortus to stay close to him as they went over the wall, “...an’ do nothing foolish...". Once among the buildings, though, he allowed the battle-frenzy to overtake him.

Surprise was complete. The ragtag defenders had no chance against the silent swordsmen rushing among them. While the defenders screamed and died, the Strike Force went about its business with silent fury, as they had been trained. Bragg was soon splattered in blood; with the red mixing with the lampblack, streaking him like some nightmare demon. He did, though, remember that his Princess wanted captives for the galleys. He personally seized and bound over a dozen youths. It was simple, he would just coldly shout, “Surrender or die now!” Their clubs or knives would be dropped, he would motion certain ones aside for Fortus to bind, then quickly kill the rest. Soon the fort was silent again, as the last of the defenders died or were bound.

The prisoners were tied, ankles and wrists together, then dragged to the center of the fort. The rebels’ flag was torn down and Vig produced the Draggon’s banner to fly, as a signal to the Princess to come ashore. The sky was just lightening to dawn as the white banner with its blue dragon was raised. Bragg and the other warriors squatted, exhausted, by the walls. Someone found some wine and it was being passed around. Shortly Vig shouted that the Draggon was coming to dock. He motioned to Bragg and a few others to help.

They went to the dock, by the fort’s main gate, and secured the ship’s ropes. The Princess and Gordia came off, followed by the galley slaves, wrists already bound back. The slaves squatted by the Draggon, waiting further orders. The Princess walked toward Vig and Bragg and the other warriors, who all snapped to brace as she approached. They heard her telling Gordia, “The Lightening will be here in a few hours; the supply ships by late tomorrow...”

She turned to Vig, “Assemble the warriors in the fort; they need not be bound quite yet. These can stay here as my honor guard!.” She turned to Bragg, “Bloody but unbowed! How went the battle?” “As expect’d, Mistress! Th’ fort is yours, an’ many captives for th’ galleys an’ fields... Some injuries but none o’ yours died.” “Good, very good...” She took food treats from her pouch and hand fed Bragg and the others. “Now march in with me. Stand tall!”

The Princess entered the fort to survey the carnage—striding forward into the fort’s central court, with her demonic honor guards. They reached the prisoners huddled in the middle, and she called loudly to the warriors around her, “Listen well, my Warrior Slaves! You have done your duty today; you have proven your courage! Now you have work to do! Truss these captives under the portico; I’ll not have them dying in the sun. The best of these slaves will row with you, the others will labor in my fields to feed you! Take the carcasses of the fallen from here; there is a ravine behind the fort where they can be burned. Then remove your hoods and ponchos; clean-up, stow your armor on the Draggon, and rest. Tonite we feast. Day after tomorrow comes your real test: we will penetrate the Capital, in the dark and in silence. You are my Silent Warriors and great will be your renown! Be proud! You have reached the highest honor to which galley slaves may aspire! To row and to fight in your Imperial Mistress’s service is an honor beyond that which any of the millions of Imperial Subjects may achieve! Be proud!”

While Vig organized the warriors and set them to their tasks, the Princess motioned Bragg to follow her. They went to the far end of the courtyard where they found a fountain and cistern. There were some buckets there and even some large sponges.

“Slave, strip off your poncho and armor, rinse them.” As Bragg bent to the task as his mistress directed, the Princess filed the buckets. “Now stand here at brace.” Bragg snapped to brace before his mistress, wrist cuffs clicking loudly into his slave belt latch. Donna Alexandra surveyed his warrior slave. The big man was streaked with blood and grime. There were a few gashes on his arms and legs. Though is body armor had protected his head and torso, he had a few bruises about his chest as well. The Princess knew that Brag had charged into the battle with complete abandon, taking blows that would have knocked a lesser warrior unconscious. She smiled broadly at Bragg, admiring her slave’s devotion and prowess.

She then removed her own tunic and put it aside. “Now Princess will serve slave, in recognition of a battle well fought!” She slowly dumped a bucket of water over Bragg’s head and across his broad shoulders. Then with sponge and another bucket, she rinsed the blood and muck from her slave’s body, carefully handling and cleaning the slave from proud head to callused feet.

She had the slave sit on the low wall around the cistern, but first attentively cleaned his buttocks, probing the big slave’s anus with her wet hand, and pulling back the foreskin to sponge the engorging cockhead. The slave had become erect as the Princess had stripped, now his manhood was throbbing with anticipation. But the Princess first knelt before him as he sat. She sponged the slave’s feet, stroking and massaging each, feeling the strength in the hard toes. Then she moved forward, to suck the slave’s erection into her mouth. Wrapping her arms around Bragg’s firm waist, snuggling deeper between his powerful legs, the Princess fully engulfed her slave. Bragg spread his thighs and then wrapped his legs around his Princess, pulling her closer.

The Princess continued sucking, loosing herself in the tastes and aromas of her slave’s manhood. Soon, Bragg’s preliminary juices began to flow, as the Princess began to relax her throat, allowing the enormous cockhead to probe deeper. After a few minutes, she drew back, leaning against the slave’s embracing legs, gazing upward, across his taut, rippled stomach, to see the lust in the big man’s eyes. “You may release your all for me now.”

She turned his head to return to her pleasures, when Bragg spoke, “Nay, Mistress. Release my wrists an’ I will give you much more...” “Again, you speak too much, slave...” The Princess drew up, so their gazes were even, “Have you forgotten, since the battle, that you are but a galley slave? But how could you? Here you are, naked except for your slave belt, wrists bound back. Your hair is shaved short, like a galley slave, you have the bulging muscles of a galley slave... Yet you bear the sword of a warrior, surely you could not forget that you are mine.” “Nay, Mistress. No matter what you have me wear, nor what task you set for me, I am always your slave. I long to be nothing but yours. Yet when you take me for your pleasure, there is so much more I could give you, if you would but permit...” With that Bragg sank to his knees and stared at his mistress’s feet.

The Princess placed a hand on her big slave’s skull, “When I first had you, you needed to be bound and broken to my will. Even with the strictness with which I control my galley slaves, we were barely able to train and govern you. But the pleasure I took from you was always great. Then you were gone a while—but we do not speak of that—and again you needed to be broken to my will. And I thought that was all you were, one of my galley slaves, bound for my pleasure. Then in crisis, unbound, you showed me that you were indeed a skilled warrior. This changed much, and the Draggon and Strike Force were born.” The Princess raised Bragg to his feet, and wrapped her arms about the bound slave, nuzzling closely to his muscled chest.

She continued, “Certain slaves may have extra value, but they must never have freedom. They may, though, by proving their value, gain some privileges. Vig and my other guards all started as galley slave. Now they and the overseers, who also all were galley slaves, are my strong arms to control my slaves. You warrior slaves are like that, you have proven value to me, so you have privileges: extra feed, swords, living and training at the barracks I had built for you. The privilege of being unbound, like my guards and overseers, is not one to be lightly granted. Nor is it necessary for you to be unbound to serve me. Is it, slave?”

Bragg thought a moment and responded, “Aye, Mistress, ‘tis best t’ keep your blades sheathed ‘til needed. But, had Gordia not unbound me at the Monastery... What if fast action is needed and I am bound?”

“Well spoken, slave. You are indeed a sheathed blade!” The Princess was silent a while. “It is possible to file the latches on your belts and oars, so that your wrist cuffs will set in place, but not lock. Then in need you would be unbound. Of course, your belt chain can always be padlocked. Yes, that is it. Your latches will be filed, you will be latched but not locked. You will always act as though you are locked in place, except in an emergency. Do you understand?” “Aye, Mistress!” Donna Alexandra reached to Bragg’s wrists and unlatched them, “Now take me.”

Bragg’s arms reached around his mistress, lifted her lightly to the low parapet wall, where he stood against the Princess, thrusting his rigid erection deeply into her. He watched the Princess wince, then relax to the thick, hard manhood pushing past her muscles and lodging tightly and fully in her hot moistness. The slave began to probe into his mistress, pumping her quicker and quicker. Soon he and his Princess were lost in the ecstasy of thrust and push, of grinding pleasure deeper and harder. Bragg would pull himself nearly out, feeling his mistress grip his erection, then push deeply in, as his mistress surrendered completely to his thrust. Over and over he used his powerful muscles to pump and grind, driving his mistress’s pleasure to greater heights; driving her to climax after climax.

Bragg knew from Gordia’ training how to restrain his release as long as possible. He continued thus for many minutes—then, unable to hold back longer, cupping his hands under his mistress’s buttocks, he raised her a bit, thrusting even deeper, feeling his erection expand even more, and he exploded into his Princess, pumping and pumping his manseed in a hot thick stream. Panting he leaned against her, wrapping his arms around waist and back, pulling them closer together.

They remained thus together a short while, their breathing easing together. Then Bragg released his mistress to the parapet wall and, withdrawing, quickly knelt between the Princess’s legs. He suckled his mistress’s sex, cooling and soothing it. Again wrapping his arms around the Princess, he suckled rapidly and deeply. The Princess surrendered herself to her slave’s demands and quickly climaxed yet again. Then Bragg pulled both together and over the parapet into the shallow end of the cistern. The cool water came up to their chests. They sat together, relaxing from their exertions, letting the water lull them. Bragg slipped one free arm around his Princess’s waist. The two remained together, quietly, for some minutes.

Then the Princess spoke, “You have pleased me well. I have, and will, reward you as a slave can be rewarded. Win more battles for me, and you will be rewarded again, and again. But never will you be free; always, forever mine...” Bragg turned to his mistress, held her in both arms. Crushing together, he deeply kissed the Princess. Then without a word, he stood, snapped his wrist cuffs back to his belt latch, and remained at brace, awaiting his mistress’s orders.

The Princess rose from the water, stretched, and reached over to stroke her slave’s limp and dripping penis and testicles. “Yes, you have pleased me well. Now report to Vig. He’ll put you to work. Tonite, at the victory fest, we shall see...” She climbed over the parapet wall followed by her big slave. “You can see Vig across the courtyard. Run to him!” Bragg gave a quick “Yup!” and raced off. The Princess watched him, enjoying the naked sight of his hard, round buttocks as he ran away.

Vig was instructing a work party when Brag jogged up to him. He waited at brace. “I see our Princess is finished with you. What are her orders?” “Sir! Mistress said you’d have work f’me!” “The others have eaten. Have you?” “No Sir!” “Well, neither have I. Let’s go together. I’m sure the Princess wants you to keep up your strength. Then you can join a clean-up crew.” Vig reached behind the big slave as Bragg relaxed to his grip. They marched off in the direction Vig pushed, ‘til they entered one of the fort’s rooms. It had all sorts of food stacked high on tables. “All the food in the fort was gathered here. Let’s see what’s to eat...” He surveyed the tables, stockpiled with an assortment of food such as Bragg had not seen for so long. The galley slaves were always fed the same gruel made from a combination of crushed whole grains from the Princess’s Isle. This was supplemented with fresh fruit and dried fish, or even meat, on occasion. To Bragg, the left over foodstuffs piled before him seemed like an incredibly sumptuous feast.

Vig found a two-foot loaf of crusty bread. As he only carried a long sword, he took Bragg’s short blade and sliced the bread down its length. Then he piled various meats and vegetable pieces on the opened bread, dribbled on some oil, and closed the bread again. He grabbed a big bottle of warm beer and nodded for the warrior slave to follow.

They went out and to the fort’s wall. There Vig led up a stairway, to one of the small towers that stood at the angles of the wall. Here Vig released Bragg’s wrists; let him carry the beer. They climbed a ladder attached to the tower, and entered it. There was a bench under a thatched roof.

Vig put the food on the tower wall and took the beer. He took a long draft and turned to Bragg, “Brace, slave!” Bragg complied. Vig put down the beer. He turned to Bragg and walloped him full in the stomach with a quick right jab. Though the big slave’s hard stomach muscles reddened where the blow fell, he stood unmoved. Vig repeated with a sharp left and again a quick right, both placed just below the solar plexus. Bragg stood his ground. Vig half stepped back, reached down for the beer, “Always like wackin’ ya, ‘cause ya take it so well. Almost as much as I like exhibitin’ ya before our Mistress, usin’ ya hard, t’ show her that ya’ th’ best galley slave.” Then he took up the stuffed bread and took a few bites. He broke off a piece and hand fed it to Bragg. So they went on for several minutes, alternating blows and food. Every few bites, Vig would break off another piece for Bragg; give him a swig of beer.

The two big slaves stood closely together watching the activity in the fort below. Between the blows and bites, at one point, Vig carelessly placed his strong arm about the galley slave’s slim waist. He put down the beer and with his free hand reached to the slave’s testicles, weighing them in his callused hand, rotating the two balls in their sack, “I know Mistress has been pleased by these. They’r’ sacred for where they been; some day she’ll teach ya the secret ways reserved for her Temple at the Isle of Pleasures...” He looked directly into Bragg’ eyes, “But if ya ever betray her, I’ll hunt ya and crush these in my hands as ya die!” With this, he squeezed the slave’s testicles, hard enough to see the big man wince. Then smiling, he resumed massaging the hefty ball sack, moving his other hand from the slave’s waist to find his gluts and probe between them, “But I know ya as loyal as me an’ the rest of Mistress’ property. Mule, th’ harder I am on ya, the better ya’ll be fo’ Mistress. Ya understand?” “Aye, Vig Sir!”

With that he released the slave, took up the beer and drank deeply. Then he took his thick penis in his hand and pissed into the jug, mixing his urine with the remaining beer. He tipped back the slave’s head with his other hand and poured the contents of the jug into the galley slave’s mouth. “Ya know when we’re aboard Mistress’ galley, we guards always piss in th’ rowers gruel, ‘cause she says piss is good fo’ ya, makes ya more manly. So now ya know how my piss tastes wi’ beer. From now on gonna always make ya drink it, so ya’l get more strength from ya trainer! Ya such a good slave, gotta love ya, Mule!”

As they finished eating, the Princess came climbing over the tower parapet, “Well now, I expect a good exhibit from you at tonite’s festivities.” The two stood to brace quickly. Their growing manhood stood bobbing in front of them as they stood frozen before their Mistress. The Princess reached and squeezed a few drops of preliminary fluid from Vig’s glistening cockhead. She raised her fingers delicately to her nose, then licked them, “Now Vig, I want you to use this file as I instruct.”

When Vig understood what the Princess wanted him to do, he protested, “Mistress, how can a galley slave be trusted t’ be unlatched? He might try to flee...” “Not this one, Vig. I know when a slave is well-trained. You were once a galley slave, now you are Captain of my Guards. Do you need to be bound?” “Just by loyalty and love, Mistress!” “That is exactly right. Most of my galley slaves, after a few years of training, do not need to be latched. But we keep them locked from task to task as a sign of their servitude.

“This slave has proven his worth in dangerous situations. We are in dangerous times now. In case of need, it is best for him to be able to act quickly, unbound. In such event, you need to be ready to follow his lead; at all other times, you must be the master of this extraordinary specimen.” Vig nodded and filed the wrist hooks. He tested them by pulling Bragg’s wrists from the locked latch several time. Then, turning to Bragg, the Princess spoke, “Yet, I do not expect that you will ever use this freedom I have granted you. I want you to act bound—to never even test the security of the latch. You are to remain bound in your mind. Do you understand?” “Aye Mistress!”