The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

-1-

Later, Bragg and Fortus were, under Gordia’s directions, setting up the Princess’s Couch for the victory celebration. She had carefully planned the spectacle. They built a sturdy platform of bricks and planks to raise the Princess above the fort’s courtyard. This was covered with rugs pilfered from the officers’ quarters.

Gordia had the two slaves carry a heavy, old style marble diner couch she found, chipped and moldering behind the fort, by the middens. They scrubbed it and lifted it to the platform, positioning it just where she directed. She admired the way the two worked steadily and efficiently. They anticipated each other’s moves and needs, always helped each other. These two were among Gordia’s favorite galley slaves. She had not had much time to enjoy them since their warrior training at the Pump Station had ended. Unless the Princess wanted them, she would take them aside after the feast tonite.

A table was placed before the couch and cushions were set on it and about it. Then Gordia had the slaves heap the booty seized from the fort around the couch. There were bags of coin, stacks of silver and gold plate, many chains of the same precious metals, and heaps of arm and wrist bands.

“You two will bear the torches here on the platform, on either side of the Princess’s couch. Now, lad, you run off and fetch a bucket of water and sponge. You should both be cleaned if you are to stand by the Princess.” Fortus responded with an “Aye Mam!” and ran off. Gordia delightedly watched the strong young slave as he left, then turned to Bragg, to see him looking after his oar mate as well. She thought that the two warriors were always together. Yes, they trained together, they rowed together, they fought together. They must have deep feelings for each other. Yet, never were they permitted to express their feelings with words. But, perhaps, thought Gordia, that was best; they knew each other, and did not need to filter their feelings through words. She continued to gaze at Bragg, watching the big slave stand at brace, breathing easily. Just watching him, she felt a pleasurable shuddering between her thighs. She hoped the Princess would choose another slave tonite. She wanted this one for herself; to worship Goddess together, in the quiet dark.

Then young Fortus returned with the bucket and sponge, placed them down, and stood to brace next to his oar mate. Gordia turned from her reverie and took the sponge, and dripping, used it to rinse the slaves off, from head to feet, like the day she first met them at the Nunnery of Mary of the Tower, so many weeks ago. She worked carefully and slowly, enjoying the feeling of their strong bodies. So much like prize horses, or bulls, perhaps. They were, of course, as well trained as the best athletes. But their efforts would never win Olympic laurels. They were perfect oarsmen, well trained, well fed. Wonderful specimens to row for the Princess and to please her and her chosen friends.

Gordia was especially careful as she cleaned their penises and testicles. She had them spread their legs and squat slightly, to allow her to sponge deeply between their legs. With a hand for each, she washed their buttocks, enjoying how patiently the slaves permitted her attentions. As she carefully washed their testicles she noted the lengthening shafts of their penises. She fingered their foreskins, rolling the tips of the soft skin between her thumb and forefinger; sliding the finger between the foreskin and cockhead. Soon they were loose enough to slide the foreskin all the way back, exposing the glans entirely. The two big slaves had large penises, now fully erect. Gordia washed the cockheads, squeezing the tips to open the tube and sponge water into them. Then she squeezed them out again, to make sure they were clean and drained. This she did several times. Gordia continued sponging them down to their strong feet. Then she left them standing together, to dry in the warm air. Later she returned and had them mount the platform and sit cross-legged on either side of the Princess’s couch, sliding tall, unlit, torches into their bound hands “You’ll be torch bearers for the Princess’s feast. When they are lit, you will stand to light the couch, and stay there until the Princess has other use for you. Now, just rest.” Gordia left them again and Bragg sat and watched the preparations for his mistress’s victory celebration, but was careful to move his eyes only, so that eh sat perfectly still while he awaited his Mistress.

It was dark as everyone was assembling. The Princess’s guards stood in two rows behind the platform, where Bragg could hear Vig inspecting them. He was gruffly ordering this one to “Stand tight!” or that one to straighten his belt, all to the occasional sound of his hard smacking hand. Bragg knew that it was right for Vig to be rough with his guard slaves; such strict training kept the guards’ minds always prepared for obedience. The red-headed guard Sam was there too, helping Gordia with last minute details. Although Sam was strict with Bragg when required, he was the most good-natured of the guards and genuinely seemed to like the big slave, often feeding him the hard cake treats that were used to reward the rowers. The warrior slaves were placed in three lines before the platform, but leaving a wide empty space just before it. They too were being subjected to the same sort of rigorous inspection as the guards, but their overseers were armed with slave driving belts, and were using them loudly and vigorously. Bragg noted with satisfaction that all the fighting slaves were being well primed for display before their Princess.

The rest of the Draggon’s crew, overseers and galley slaves, were assembled behind the warriors, where they were still and quiet. Then Vig and a few of the guards dragged the bound captives and sort of heaped them before the platform, as they too were part of the booty to be offered before the Princess. Last, the galley slaves of the Lightening jogged silently into the courtyard; were left standing at brace along its far end, so they could also witness the feast before returning to their ship.

All was in silence as Gordia lit torches set in the ground around the platform, then the torches held by Bragg and Fortus. The two slaves stood, with their torches several feet above their heads, bathing the platform in a bright, flickering light. Gordia stood by the couch and nodded to the drummers who began a slow cadence. After a few minutes of drumming in the silence, Sam called out in a loud voice, “All galley slaves an’ warrior slaves, squat!” The several hundred slaves all went onto their haunches in unison, lowering themselves before the expected arrival of their Mistress.

The drum pace quickened and the Princess entered. Vig marched before her, carrying a blazing torch and bare sword. He was followed by two guards with swords also held aloft. Bragg’s breath caught as he saw his mistress, arrayed in white and gold. Although he had seen his Princess this resplendent before, he always marveled at how beautiful and powerful the great Lady was when he saw her like this.

The Princess climbed lightly to the platform and stood facing the warriors. At a signal from Gordia the drumming came to an abrupt end. Sam shouted, “Stand to brace!” and all the slaves snapped to attention, with a sound like the crack of a belt. The Princess spoke in her clear, unwavering voice, “Proud am I of my warrior’s prowess. Here tonite I am to feast before all my galley slaves, to reward the fighters who brought me this victory, these spoils of battle!

“Tonite is feast. Tomorrow is rest. The next day brings the great gamble—the Draggon’s raid on the Capitol itself. But tonite is feast. You will entertain me as I feast. Then I will reward the best of my warrior slaves! After the raid, we will all return to my Isle, the Lightening to resume its courier duties, the Draggon to remain. Draggon is a new ship, not fully equipped. Though its warrior-oarsmen have rowed hard and fought well, you will need months of strict training before the Draggon reaches its potential. I will train you hard, so the Draggon will fly across the seas; will dance and spin and turn at my command! Only constant practice and complete devotion will bring the Draggon to its perfection! Now we celebrate Draggon’s first battle! Let the next battle not be its last! Let the feast begin!” Gordia signaled, and the drumming began as the Princess took her couch. The oar boys carried gold and silver trays piled high with food and placed them on the table before the Princess. She chose some items for herself and then told the oar boys, “Bring these victuals to my warriors and feed them, that all may see their first reward.” Then to Gordia, “See to it that these torch bearers are fed as well; it is right that the best of the best should serve me thus, but we must not forget their portion of this feed.” So Gordia hand fed both Fortus and Bragg, as they were bound, while their mistress feasted.

During the weeks before the attack on the fort, while the warrior slaves of the Draggon had been practicing their sword work, the remaining ship’s oarsmen had been put to learning tricks to amuse the Princess. Now they came to the empty space between the warriors and the platform. They were naked and bound, as was proper for galley slaves. They looked well fed and well muscled. They stood tall and proud that they had been brought before their mistress.

They formed a double line and began, at Gordia’ signal, to stomp in time to the drumming, thumping their bare feet against the wooden deck. They stomped, hopped, twirled about and jumped with the drums. The sound quickened. The galley slaves moved faster with it. The two lines wove and separated, forming one semicircle facing the Princess. Two of the slaves, oar mates, ran out and flipped up into the air, spun completely around and landed on their feet again, not losing a beat as they stomped with the rest. Then taking turns, oar mate pairs each came forward to exhibit the gymnastic tricks they had learned. Some tumbled, some rolled, some performed squat thrusting dances, all coordinated with the drumming, all while bound.

The Princess smiled serenely, eating slowly, as she watched the exertions and performances. The galley slave’s muscles were glistening, in the torch light, with the sweat of their labors. Then they formed two lines again and the drumming quickened again. Their stomping and twirling grew more frenzied. The climax came as the two lines of oarsmen tumbled past each other and into the dark beyond the torch light. The drumming halted. The Princess stood abruptly, holding up a golden goblet. Her clear voice rang above the silence, “Well shown! You have skill and stamina indeed! You will row even harder than you play, and please me well! Some of you know of the mysteries of the Temple at my Isle, and show by your exhibit your commitment to the way I have chosen for you. Soon more of you will be initiated into the secrets—those of you who survive the great test that is coming!”

The Princess resumed her couch as the drumming began again, slowly. Now Vig came forth with the guards, who exercised before the Princess with drawn swords. Bragg was mesmerized by the swords flashing in the torchlight. He barely noticed Gordia bring another slave to take his torch. Gordia motioned him to stand, then with one hand resting firmly a the top of Bragg’s buttocks, just below where his wrists were latched to his slave belt, he was led around to the back of the Princess’s couch.

Bragg noticed that Fortus had also been led to the back of the couch, by a young man who he had recently seen with Gordia. The youth was called Santor and he seemed to be Gordia’ new assistant. He had not paid much attention to Bragg or his oar mate during the few days he had been around. Now, though, he was standing close to Fortus, one hand stroking the young galley slave’s hard flank, the other groping between his legs.

Bragg’s attention was diverted by Gordia who was similarly reaching for his sex. Bragg responded as he had been trained and quickly became erect. The chaplain had one arm around his chest while the other worked his penis. Her head was close to Bragg, and she began to whisper. There were certain code words to which the warriors had been trained by Gordia. When she would use them during training, the warrior would relax deeply and become open to instructions. Gordia had learned mind control techniques at the nunnery where she had met Bragg, and she used those techniques to train the instantaneous reactions these warriors needed.

Now, though, the words were preparing Bragg to appear before his Princess, “...deeply relaxed... Your mind is clear and filled with the light of love for your Mistress... Your only thought is to please her, obey her, worship her...”

The Princess was sitting up on the couch. As Bragg and his oar mate were brought before him, she raised her hand. The drums fell silent and Vig and the exercising guards stopped, stood to attention.

Donna Alexandra stepped forward and turned between the two slaves. Gordia and her aid were rapidly stroking their charges’ erections. The Princess took the two rigid penises in her hands, feeling them throbbing from the exercise they had been given.

She spoke loudly so that all could hear, “These are the first two warrior slaves to be honored tonite for their bravery and skill!” She squeezed and stroked their erections, “I am well pleased with them. I am especially pleased with this big slave, who is the best warrior of all. To him I give the reward of a name. Henceforth this slave will be known as ‘Blade’—as ‘Blade One’. However, when rowing, this name will not be used, as all galley slaves are equal upon the benches, and under the complete dominion of the Overseer of Oars.

“The granting of a name to a galley slave is a great honor. It is one that I hope others of you will deserve after future battles! Now I will reward these slaves with gold, and they will give me their manseed. So be it!”

The drumming and sword display began again as the Princess turned to the two slaves. She took gold bracelets from a pile and clamped them around the testicles and erections of the two. The one she placed on Fortus was plain, but the one for Blade was carved like a snake, biting its tail. Its eyes were tiny rubies, gleaming red in the torchlight. She also took a heavy gold armband and, after releasing Blade’s right hand, pushed it up to his bulging upper arm. She whispered “Brace.” and Blade snapped his arm back into its latch.

Then the Princess took an enormous goblet and held it before the slaves. Gordia and Santor resumed their positions, again stroking the slaves’ erections. Quickly the two slaves reached nearly simultaneous release, emptying their manseed into the goblet. Blade gazed directly at his Mistress as he gave himself to the Princess’s cup.

The Princess stepped forward and spoke quietly just to him, “Blade, I will give you another reward. The oar boys are instructed to drain all galley slaves regularly, and gather their manseed for me. But I will grant the boon of having your manseed, when taken thus, kept separate from the rest, especially for me.

The Princess nodded and resumed her seat as the two slaves were led back behind the couch. Gordia and Santor brought the next pair before the Princess, to receive gold and give manseed. The Princess did not speak to the other slaves, but acknowledged their efforts with a smile and nod. Soon all the warrior slaves had been brought before their Mistress, and the goblet was filled nearly to its top.

Again the Princess signaled for silence. “I raise the goblet of your offering, which is brimming full!” Santor spoke, “All slaves, squat! Gaze at your Mistress in devotion and worship! Resolve now and forever to be this great Princess’s slave, devoted to her entirely!” The drumming began again as the Princess raised the goblet, drinking deeply from it. Santor spoke again, “Brace!” and all the slaves snapped back to standing at brace.

Various groups of galley slaves from the Lightening were led forth to perform tumbling and balancing exhibitions, building themselves into towers of flesh, while yet remaining bound. Others performed the type of sex exhibit to which Vig had trained Blade. The Princess smiled, applauded and drank while the drumming continued into the night. The warriors of the Draggon remained standing behind the Princess’s couch, watching her watching the exhibitions. Blade, in the front row, could not take his eyes from his Princess.

Then it was much later and the torches were flickering out and the tired slaves were being led away: galley slaves back to the Lightening; the oarsmen of the Draggon to rooms in the fort where they could rest until their next test of battle. Gordia found Blade and his oar mate and signaled them follow. Blade saw Vig leaning over the Princess on her couch as he was leaving. He heard the Princess, “I’ll sleep here under the stars tonite. Join me.” “My Princess, would you not rather have your Blade tonite?” “No, Vig, our hero slave was rewarded already today, though, ‘tis true, I always want him and he is always ready for me... as are you... Now ‘tis thy turn, my friend, guardian and best slave...” Blade saw Vig unhitch and drop his sword belt and kilt; stand naked and erect before the Princess, arms opened in offering.

-2-

Gordia squeezed Blade’s buttocks, turning him from the Princess, “Have no thought...” Then she brought them to a room with two beds. Santor was waiting there. He took Fortus to one bed while Gordia took Blade to the other. The chaplain smacked Blade’s buttock so hard it reddened, demanding his complete attention, “Blade, don’t look at your oar mate. Santor knows how to use him. You concentrate on me alone. You are to service me now. Do you understand?” “Aye, Mam.”

“Renda says he thinks we’ve been too easy on you warrior slaves of late; you’re thinking too much. Galley slaves do not think: they do the task at hand, and when there’s no task to do, they rest. I’ve trained you in the art of nonthought. Now your oar mate knows how to behave. He’s not thinking. He’s just sucking on Santor while Santor sucks on him. That’s just like what we are going to do. Galley Slaves must not think, and warriors, when training or fighting, must not think either; as warrior you must act instinctively, violently. You know the warrior’s mind. You are the best at it. You are also the best at sharing pleasure. Let us now...”

Gordia removed her tunic and settled against Blade on the bed, facing his thick, limp manhood. She began to lick and kiss it, as Blade, in turn, sucked on her warm sex. The big slave’s penis grew hard and Gordia began to suck on it. The room was quiet except for the sounds of sucking. The whole fort was quiet now, in the late night. For a moment Blade imagined his Princess and Vig, on the couch in the midst of the fort, surrounded by booty and sleeping warriors. Then he returned his full attention to the task at hand, pleasuring the priestess who taught him the love a galley slave must have for his Mistress and overseers.

By dawn the fort was bustling with activity as the Draggon was readied for the raid on the Capitol. Santor brought Blade and his oar mate to the ship where Renda was waiting, belt in hand, to hustle them aboard. The chief overseer’s belt caught Blade’s buttocks, once, hard, as he jogged past to the hatchway.

Once all the oarsmen where latched into place, the Princess boarded. She strode down the walkway, between the rows of oarsmen, nodding to a few, pausing to encourage one or two. The last she turned to was Blade, “Row hard my slave! Today begins a great test of your strength and courage!” Then to all the oarsmen, “This mission is probably the most important we will ever undertake. We will penetrate the heart of the Capitol and there, free the King Emperor! When we succeed, what we have done will echo through history, even as the Founding of ancient Rome, two thousand years ago, or the reestablishment of the New Empire a thousand years ago. This is the once in a thousand year act that sets the world aright yet again!

“You have learned well how to row and fight! You know, and have practiced many days, the four main oar strokes, the Slow Stroke, the Steady Stroke, the Strong Stroke and the Speed Stroke. You also know two Switch Strokes, Port Turn and Starboard Turn. As we speed to our destiny, Renda will drill you in several more Switch Strokes that will be needed to maneuver in the close spaces of the River approach to the Capital. These same strokes will be needed when this ship is in a sea battle. And, my slaves, when we succeed in freeing the King, there will be many battles on land and sea before he is returned to the Sacred Throne on Capitol Hill. Now, I give you to the stern task master of this Draggon, Renda the Overseer!”

The Princess turned and retired to her fore cabin as Renda, flexing his dark muscles, snapped his belt and bellowed the order, “Man the oars! Slow stroke astern!” The oarsmen snapped their oars into position with sharp crack. The first stroke pulled, as the Draggon slipped back from the dock until Renda ordered “Starboard Switch!” and the two rows of oarsman complied, the starboard side reversing direction while the port side switched to the deeper Strong Stroke, causing the Draggon to pivot in place, and point its head to the Sea. Renda ordered “Steady Stroke” and the ship plowed forward, the speed of the oars now matching the steady drumming. The oarsmen could row nonstop at this pace, resting in turns. However, Renda only allowed the oarsmen a few minutes at this easier pace, until their rowing was completely coordinated and they had settled into the routine. Then he had the drums speed increased. Shortly he gave the order for the Speed Stroke, and the oarsmen quickened their pace; the oars dipping shallowly into the sea, swiftly pulled. With this pace, though, the Draggon lifted and began to speed across the surface of the sea, picking up speed as the drumming increased.

To maintain the Speed Stroke the oarsmen had to focus completely on the task. All their muscles bent into each stroke, arms, backs, legs; each coordinating at the proper moment, with the main power of the stroke provided by back and legs. The rowers gasped for breath in unison, and the Draggon felt as though it were breathing. The drumming and the overseers’ belts drove the oarsmen on. These were the best of the Princess’ galley slaves and knew their duty; their minds bent only to the task at hand, as though driven by the will of their Mistress, through the strong arm of Renda and his belt, setting the pace the drums demanded.

In the driven frenzy of the rowing, Blade barely noticed Santor standing on the walkway above them. Then the youth sat on its edge, feet dangling into the rowers’ pit, just a few inches from Blade’s straining body. Gordia’s apprentice wore a simple tunic, with his strong young legs bare. He held a driver’s belt in his right hand. For a while he just sat, watching the two oar mates.

Santor was fascinated by the galley slaves and how well they were disciplined. He gazed up the long row of oarsmen, and back to the two before him. He sighed as he remembered the pleasure the younger of the two had given him last night. How well trained these slaves were! How their minds worked as one with their strong bodies, as they strained to their Mistress’ will.

“Renda tells me that, on this ship, even the chaplain’s assistant needs to know how to use the belt—with a short crew, everyone doubles as a slave driver; does duty cleaning and feeding... He told me to practice on you two.” Nodding toward Fortus he continued, “I protested that I liked you and didn’t want to beat you. Gordia told me to learn to beat with love... That it was a disservice to the spiritual needs of the galley slaves to allow desire to interfere with duty. And the only duty of you oarsmen is to row with all your heart and strength!”

Before he could speak another word, Renda bellowed to all the oarsmen, “Double speed stroke!” The drumming quickened and Santor looked to Renda and then to the other overseers, who had all raised their belts. He did likewise and struck hard with the drum beat, belting Blade across the upper back, as the big man and his oar mate strained to pull faster.

Santor used the belt, hard and in time with the other drivers, for several minutes. The slaves were straining and gasping, and the ship lurched forward even faster. For several hours this continued, with the oarsmen being drilled in the various maneuvers needed to turn the ship swiftly in a tight area, such as the Tiber River that led to the Capital City of Rome.

Later, Renda came by and told Santor, “These two ar’ scheduled f’rest period. Th’ Princess wants th’ big one well-rested f’ th’ raid. Bring ‘em topside f’ cleanin’ an’ air; then t’ hammock f’ rest!”

Santor nodded to the overseer and turned to the two, smiling, “Stop rowing! You heard Renda, let’s go!” The oarsmen complied at once, snapping their oars into place. Santor stepped between them, feeling the heat of their exertions, their still heaving chests, and released their chains. “Brace!” The two stood stiffly, wrist cuffs snapping into their latches, gazing straight ahead, their breathing calming, awaiting the next order. Santor nodded them forward.

The galley slaves followed Santor down the length of the ship, passed the rowers, to the ladder leading to the Draggon’s deck. Still bound, they climbed first, Santor watching their hard buttocks and strong legs disappear above him. He quickly followed.

The Draggon’s deck was fitted with a low railing and latches to hold the galley slaves that were aired there. Other than that, the deck was a curved, bare expanse of highly polished, sea gray stained wood. Santor had the two squat by the railing, attaching the chains from their slave belts to it. He then went below deck to bring back a bucket and sponge.

It was bright and sunny at the day’s end. The red sun warmed the two waiting slaves. The ship sped forward above the slapping waves, smoothly riding on the sweeping oars. The only sounds were the clap of the water and the “Huh!” of the rowers. Blade breathed the salty air and leaned against Fortus, who nuzzled slightly against him. As their breathing calmed together, they smiled at each other, just enjoying the few moments of quiet together. Blade marveled at the gaze of devotion from Fortus. He knew that no matter what they suffered for their Princess, as long as they were together, that was enough. Blade chuckled, “’Ar Mistress wants us t’ rest. But watch, Santor’ll bring back Gordia ‘an they’ll give us little rest...” Fortus grinned back at him and leaned to nuzzle against him. The big slave leaned back against his mate. Blade hardly thought when rowing, due to the focus needed. Now, though, he let his mind wander, but soon the gleaming of the light off the sea lulled his eyes closed and he slept leaning against Fortus.

The sun had just set when Gordia awoke him with a cold wet sponge slopped over his head. The chaplain proceeded to scrub him while Santor did similar service for Fortus. The two slaves patiently endured their handlers’ attentions. Gordia, as always, was especially attentive to Blade’s sex, carefully cleaning his penis and testicles. When they were done, Gordia dumped the rest of the bucket over them, letting the pine scented water drain off the deck and back into the sea. The short chains that held them close to the deck were released and Gordia ordered them to stand. Then the handlers wrapped the chains around their slave belts, further securing their wrists. Gordia used this opportunity to hold the big slave firmly to her. Looking up into Blade’s clear eyes she spoke softly, “The Princess wants you rested and does not want us to drain the power from your aggressiveness. Alas, I would linger here and enjoy the strength of your manhood. But, we must all obey the Princess, and you must be prepared for the raid. Let’s go!”

The two galley slaves were led below decks to one of the hammocks slung above the rowers. There they were belted in place and told to sleep. Tired, as always from their exertions, neither needed any encouragement and soon both were fast asleep.

-3-

Hours later the Princess herself woke Blade. Each net hammock was fitted with a leather belt around its outside, to keep the slaves secure as the ship rolled though the seas. The Princess first unbuckled this, then opened the hammock, reaching between the two sleeping galley slaves. It was warm where the two lay together, and the Princess found Blade’s semi hard sex between his legs and nestled against the younger rower’s buttocks. The two woke as the Princess massaged. She hugged them and nuzzled against them, “Time to wake! It’s near mid-night and we have entered the River—just a few miles from the Palace. Up now!”

The slaves swung from the hammock and stood before their mistress, bound and ready for her use. Her hands lingered on Blade, one weighing the big slave’s testicles, the other stroking the fine hair on his massive chest, “You’ll both row a while to make sure you are awake, then I will need Blade to review maps with me. To the bench now, quickly!” With the Princess watching the hard mounds of their bare buttocks, the oarsmen ran to their bench where Santor, smiling, was waiting to latch them in place and waken their efforts with a couple quick licks from his belt. In seconds they were rowing with the others, strong slow strokes, to bring them quietly up river.

Later Vig released Blade and brought him to the Princess. Donna Alexandra nodded to Vig, “Go replace Blade at the oar!” Vig’s face reddened a bit as he turned without a word to do the Princess’s bidding.

Blade’s Mistress wrapped an arm about him, across his bound arms, to grip the far side of his slave belt. They walked to a map spread across a low table. As they stood before the map, the Princess took her free hand and reached for the erection Blade had sported since his Mistress first put her arm about him. The big slave’s eyes glazed over and closed as his Mistress held and fondled him. His weight rested against the Princess, who bore it, nuzzling against her warrior’s hard back muscles.

They stood together a while, listening to the quiet rowing of the silent ship as it glided into the river. Then the Princess abruptly stood back from her slave and smacked the big man’s buttocks, leaving a reddening hand print, “Enough, slave, we need to concentrate on the task at hand.” Pointing, she continued, “This is the River Tiber, up which we row. Farther up River is Old Rome. But between the City and the seaport is the New Imperial Palace, built nearly five hundred years ago. New Rome extends from just beyond the palace grounds to the old City Walls. We are only concerned with the palace. It fronts on the River for about a half mile, along bluffs thirty feet high. There is a point here where several sewers exit.

“As children my brother and I explored these old tunnels; I believe they can bring us deep within the Palace. There we need find the King Emperor and spirit him away, back to the Draggon. All this must be done before first light and carefully as he is frail. What do you suggest?”

The Princess stood close against her slave. Blade thought a while, then spoke slowly, “Mistress, leave a third o’ th’ warriors on deck to protect the ship; a third at the tunnel entry an’ the rest, in groups within, t’ protect th’ passage back. Only you, Vig an’ Blade will ent’r th’ Palace—three can sneak where more would give rise t’ alarm... We move quick an’ silent t’ rescue th’ King!” The Princess turned to Blade, wrapped arms about him and nuzzled against his hard body. She firmly kissed the big slave, on the lips then deep into his warm mouth, “Now go replace Vig. He and I will prepare for the raid.” Blade waited for the Princess to disentangle herself. Then smiling, he turned to jog back to the rower’s bench.

When Blade arrived back at his oar post he saw Vig rowing steadily with Fortus. Renda the Overseer of Oars was standing over them, driver belt hanging from his waist, “Ya want me t’ give ya my belt an’ ya can drive these two? Vig isn’t used to rowing anymore. Our Mistress should give him to me for a few months an’ he’ll remember how t’ row!” Blade stood at brace waiting for his to finish. “Ny, ya’d rather be with ya oar mate. Vig get up, don’t want t’ keep these two apart. They know hard rowing is how they show how much they love our Mistress. Vig quickly stood and stepped between Renda and Blade, reaching one arm behind the big slave, grasping a buttock firmly and pushing him to the bench, “Down ya go slave, back t’ your mate. Get to work!” The guard turned to rejoin the Princess while Renda, quietly urged the galley slave to stroke evenly, move the ship silently.

It was well past midnight when the ship had slipped far enough up the River to reach the New Imperial Palace. Looking through the Draggon’s gaping mouth, Donna Alexandra could just perceive the massive piles of the Palace by the absence of stars outlining it. The great City, two thousand years the Mistress of the Mediterranean World, lay quietly beyond its miles long walls.

There were a few dark holes on the bank beneath the Palace walls. The Princess guessed at the right one and whispered directions back to Vig who relayed them on. The ship headed to the one she thought would lead them deepest into the Imperial Complex.

The sewer mouth was just large enough for the ship to back part way into it. Careful maneuvering by the galley slaves brought the Draggon safely to rest. The ship was aimed to thrust itself back into the seaward current at a moment’s warning. Except for the warrior slaves, the oarsmen were kept ready at the benches.

Blade and the other fighters quickly and quietly garbed themselves in their mail gear and dark tunics. They disembarked silently, eyes just adjusting to the near total darkness in the sewer. As the Princess had remembered, though, there were slightly glowing mosses and fungi in the ancient brick tunnels, and they could just see enough to move forward. The Princess also wore a dark cloak, and stayed close to Vig and Blade. Both big slaves looked so nearly identical in their warrior equipment that she could not readily tell them apart. Soon the rear guard had been left behind and the three were alone.

She whispered, “I remember the turns. In ten minutes we will be in the subbasement below the Imperial Chambers.” They proceeded in silence, listening for any unusual sounds among the drippings and their echoes.

The final passage ended in a heavy metal grating overhead, cemented from above. “I do not recall this grate being so strong, or sealed... See if your swords can crack the cement and push it aside.”

The two warriors squeezed against the grate; wedged their swords as best they could and pressed together. The Princess could feel the intensity of their force and moved close against their bulging backs, putting her weight into the effort. The cement cracked audibly. The Princess backed off and one of the slaves raised the heavy metal grate with his back, sliding it aside. One, then the other pulled himself up; then they each reached a hand down to pull their Mistress after them. They were in a dark storage room with just a bit of light coming in through the cracks around the door.

One warrior was pressed against the floor, seeing what he could through the crack. He stood and Blade’s voice whispered to the Princess, “Empty passage lit by a few torches... None about.”

Her reply was, “We go left, third opening right and up...” The door was open and the three ran into what seemed to them to be glaring light, along a rough stone hallway. Led by Blade (now in the light she could tell which was which by their movements—Blade moved more... quietly; Vig with more determination) they reached the dark stairwell and moved upward.

Two floors later, they were in a similar hall, though this one was finished in marbles. “Three halls on the left, that’s where they might have guards...”

-4-

Vig and Blade entered the hall with swords drawn, surprising the two guards dozing by an improvised iron gate thrown up across the marble hall. The guards were on their side of the gate, stationed to keep the Emperor in; and not expecting attack from deep within the Palace. They were bloodied and dead in seconds, without even unsheathing their blades. The warriors had unhinged the gate in yet more seconds and the three were through on a run.

The Princess led the way through a maze of passageways. She knew exactly where to turn to avoid the main hallways, so the three met no one else as they wound their way deeper into the Imperial Palace and up several levels toward the King Emperor’s private chambers.

They came to a side entrance to the Imperial Chambers, one guarded by just one soldier. He dropped his sword as the two giant warriors charged him, and was struck unconscious with a quick blow from Blade’s elbow as they stormed past.

Donna Alexandra went through first, into an open garden area where the few servants recognized her, stood gaping at the bloodied warriors following her. The King was seated, reading an ancient scroll when they reached him. Startled, he motioned to Vig and Blade, “Alexandra! How came you here... and with these...”

“We’ve come, Father, to rescue you! We must flee at once, an alarm may be raised at any moment! My... guards... and I will lead you through the sewers to a ship awaiting on the River Tiber! No time to bring anything. We must hurry!”

The King rose tall, stepped forward to embrace his Daughter, “We heard rumors your Brother escaped, that you were involved.” Looking at the warriors, “With these two, I can understand how. Are they from your galley?” “Yes, Father, the swiftest ship and the bravest fighters!” “Sometimes they thought they joked when they called you the Amazon Princess. You are braver than ten of my courtiers. Your Mother would have been proud, her People of the Steppes had a long history of Woman Warriors. Indeed, let us flee. But first, we must take the Imperial Seal, which I hid.”

Though somewhat frail, the King quickly led them to a statue in the garden. Turning to Blade, “Tip it over... gently, it is a thousand years old. Beneath it is the Seal. That is all we bring.” One of the servants ran to him with a simple gray cloak. “Good Marcus, yes, I must leave my purple robe. Hide yourselves in other parts of the Palace. We shall return!”

The four fled the Imperial Chambers the way Donna Alexandra and her warriors had come. The King noted the bloodied guards along the way. “Like a storm you’ve come...” “And, Father, like a storm my newest galley, the Draggon, shall speed us away!”

They reached the tunnels beneath the Palace without incident, but heard the clamor of arms as they ran toward the waiting ship. A mass of soldiers were between them and the Draggon. Blade drove his sword through the nearest, pushing more aside, as Vig protected Princess and King. The ship was moving as they clambered aboard, the Princess jumping lightly as Vig helped the King onto the deck.

As the two entered the hatch, Vig turned to see Blade surrounded by enemies, slicing them left and right. But there were too many even for Blade’s quick sword, and he went down under their blows. Blade’s assailants backed off as Vig charged, roaring at them. A second bloodied giant was too much for them. Vig saw Blade lying in a heap, blood and bodies all over. He reached for the limp warrior and grabbed him with one arm by the slave belt while, with the other, he held a rope trailing from the Draggon. The ship surged out of the tunnel with water broiling all about it, from the deep stroking efforts of the galley slaves. The two warriors were caught in the swirl, pulled under and along with the ship.

After what seemed too long under water, Vig found himself clinging to the rope, holding Blade’s head above water, but he could not tell if the slave was breathing. A few warriors were still on deck, making their way into the ship as the oars quickened their pace. Vig’s shouts brought help and they were pulled aboard the stern.

Santor was there, pulling with the others, “Does the big one live? You are bloodied too...” Vig’s first words were, “Ar’ Mistress an’ King safe?” To Santor’s nod, he continued, “I’m just scratched... Not sure Blade lives...”

The two pulled him onto the deck as Gordia came to them, “Is he drowned? I’ve learned some healing, let me...” She went to his still, massive body, bleeding still from many gashes. Looking to Vig, “force his mouth open.” Then, she placed her lips on Blade’s, began to force air into his lungs. This she alternated with pressing on his chest. A little water was forced out. Vig moved to Blade’s side, “I’ve regained my breath, let me...” The guard bent over Blade’s unconscious body, pressing his mouth against the slaves cold lips, forced a lung full of air into him, pressed down hard, forcing more water out. Blade coughed and gasped, “He lives! Tell the Princess!”

Blade was breathing, but still not conscious, so Vig picked him up and brought him below, to the Princess’s divan, where Santor was reporting to the Mistress of the Draggon, “Three warriors dead, some with injuries, none too serious, except for Blade...”

The Princess turned to Gordia, “Bind his wounds; stay with him...” Turning to Vig, “Again you and Blade have done more than anyone could expect, against great odds. Stay here so that Gordia may attend to your wounds too. The King sleeps on the couch, so do not disturb him. She left as Gordia and Santor began to treat the wounded. The ship sped down the River, to the quick “Huhs!” of the straining oarsmen.

-5-

To Blade the trip was a blur of pain. A few times his eyes opened to see Santor or Gordia there. But when he finally woke, he was no longer in the ship. Fortas was lying next to him and they were in the slave stables on the Princess’s Island.

His oar mate smiled broadly at him and arose from their sleep bench. Fortas was unbound; quickly took a bowl from the floor. “Here, drink this broth. You’ve been sleeping for days... Gordia’s cared for your wounds. I’ve been here too...”

For the next few days Fortas tended to Blade, feeding him, and, under Gordia’s or Santor’s guidance, changing the dressings on his wounds. There was much coming and going in the stables, as the other warriors and oarsmen were hustled out each day to row the Draggon, as the galley slaves had to continually train to maintain their readiness to speed the ship at their Mistress’ command. Thus, Blade waited and healed.

Blade and his oar mate were mostly left alone, though Vig came by to instruct them in exercises. Other than a couple bright red scars, the big guard had recovered too. “Ya must stretch an’ work ya muscles as ya heal, so ya’ll be ready t’ take ya place at th’ bench.” Then, the trainer began spending hours with them each day, drilling the two slaves, hardening Blade again to the discipline required of the oarsmen.

The drills were hard on the big slave and Vig drove him with belt and commands to work through his wounds and pain. As a reward, after each session, Vig would put the slave through the exhibit displays he had been taught to please the Princess.

In the days that he and Fortas had been resting at the slave stables, he had been thinking more than he had in a long time. On the benches, thinking was not permitted. Now though, he wanted to express his thought to Vig, even if he would be beaten for it, “Sir, p’rhaps ya can train th’ two o’ us t’gether, t’ display b’fo’ Mistress...”

Vig cut the big slave short with a sharp jab to his solar plexus. Blade tensed and stopped, but did not stagger. He stood stolidly, waiting his trainer’s response. “I’ll think ‘bout it... I’ll train ya t’gether, see how it looks, then maybe s’prise our Mistress.” He nodded his head, then took another poke at the slave’s tightly muscled stomach. Again Blade did not budge, though the guard captain had jabbed him hard, each time.

Turning to Fortas, Vig barked, “Ya watched me trainin’ ya mate enough, let’s see what ya can do! Post one!” Fortas snapped to the position, and changed position each time Vig barked another command. Finally he motioned Blade to stand beside his oar mate; had them repeat the drill together. After a while, he stopped and allowed the two to “Breathe easy. Rest ‘til I think how t’ have ya move more together.”

Over the next couple days he did allow Blade to train Fortus to the exhibit postures. Blade would feel a great joy as he ordered Fortus through the familiar positions, exhibiting his obedience and devotion before their trainer, knowing surely that someday soon he would be brought before his Mistress to move through these coordinated postures with his oarmate. Vig even began to devise positions where the three of them could exhibit together, twined as one in mutual pleasurings. One position especially excited Blade, with the three of them squatting together, almost as though they were at the rowing bench, but with Vig impaling him as he impaled his oarmate. At other times they would form a heap of naked flesh, twisting a turning together, mouthing each other’s manhood, losing themselves in pleasuring each other.

That afternoon continued, as did the next several, with the two slaves and the Princess’s guard preparing their exhibit for their Mistress. They learned new and unusual positions and worked through a full presentation, ending in their close routine. This was the last part of their presentation, the part that demanded the most stamina and control. They could now repeat even these portions, without thought, although, their hearts throbbed and bodies ached. The close routine was intended to exhibit the slaves’ physical prowess and stamina, as well as their obedience and training. As the larger slave stood his ground, in position after position, his younger oar mate took stances by him, pairing postures, holding himself taut against his partner. As the two would move close, they would grow hard, exhibiting their erections. Vig knew this routine would please the Princess, even as it primed her slave for her pleasure.

After one arduous drill, Vig again allowed them time to ease their ragged breathing, calm their pounding hearts. “Gordia says ya ready t’ go back t’ th’ Draggon. Know ya miss Renda and th’ ocean breeze! Draggon’s due back tomorrow. Princess says I’m t’ bring ya t’ her Tower today. She needs a few guards there an’ a couple slaves ‘cause some No’tren’rs comin’ t’ visit her. Ya ought feel hon’rd, no galley slaves’ ever been t’ her Tower before. It may be that she will have ya both brought to her Temple and there taught the secrets of the Way of the Lady of the Tower. But ya know most o’ the secrets already—in th’ training fo’ exhibit, in the warrior’s way o’ thinking.” He pushed one hand between the gluts of each slave, finding their heavy testicles, grasping them firmly from behind and pushed them from the stall where they had been training.

Vig led the two galley slaves, now once more geared in their leather belts with wrist cuffs latched back, from the slave stables, up the road toward the Princess’ Tower. As they left the port area the guard released his handhold on the slaves and told them to jog. The three began to run along the road, the two galley slaves in front, Vig just behind them, driving belt in hand, so he could urge them on with a few cracks across the buttocks now and again. But the slaves did not need encouragement to run to their Mistress. Blade felt mounting joy as he ran with the bright sun warming his muscles, by the fields and orchards, up the promontory upon which the Tower stood.

The Princess’s Tower was tall and fair, ringed by gardens, with the tall columns of her Temple just visible through the foliage. They stopped at the base of the marble steps leading to the great doors that gave entry to the Tower.

While they stood there braced and waiting, Vig stood close behind his two trainees, gave them each a few more cracks with his belt, and began to repeat to them how honored they should feel to be called for by the Princess, to be shown before her visitors. He reached his big arms around the two, pulling them all together, whispering, “May be Mistress’ll keep us all here fo’ th’ nite, to serve her together. If th’ chance comes, I’ll tell her we’re eager t’ serve.” He released them and went to stand before them, also stiffly at brace, waiting.

Soon the Tower doors opened a bit and Gordia came forward, “Ah Vig, I see you have our torch bearers again. Our Lady remembered that they stood before her, bearing light for her couch before the raid that rescued the King, and would have them serve thus again. You too will be needed. Follow.”

The three slaves followed their Mistress’s priestess up the steps and into the cool shadow of the Tower. Blade could not help but marvel at the tall hall behind the great doors; lined as it was with gleaming marble, hung with wondrous tapestries, large gold candelabras. The slaves’ bare feet slapped against the marble flooring as they marched behind Gordia down the long hallway.

Soon they were climbing a spiral stairway high into the Tower, Gordia leading, followed by the galley slaves, with Vig behind, occasionally cracking an open palm against one of the slaves buttocks, to keep them focused.

At one landing, Gordia turned into an open door and the three slaves followed. It was a large room, well-lit from tall windows in one wall, through which could be seen an end of the Island and the Sea beyond. The room was mostly empty, except for a three step platform and gilded seat upon it, before the centermost window. They were in the Princess’s audience chamber, before her throne.

There were two large torches on either side of the throne, set into the marble platform on the first step; each had gilded ropes hung from them. “Vig, bind a galley slave to each torch, then stand on the second step before the chair, facing the door with drawn sword, to await your Mistress.” The priestess left, closing the door.

Vig turned to the oarm ates, “Now don’t get uppity ‘cause ya in a fine room for display before Mistress!” First he walked Fortus to one torch, placed him against it and wound the ropes about him, as though he needed to be bound to stand where he was told. “Stand tall and straight, head forward, don’t move, but leave ya eyes down, so ya look proper humble.” He then turned to Blade and similarly bound him. But standing close to the big slave, he grasped Blade’s manhood, stroking until he was erect, “Ya can let that soften now, but, later, when Mistress’s guests leave, ya gonna get hard again, so she can see ya want t’ serve, an’ I’ll ask if us three can stay and show her some new tricks. Understand?” Blade snapped back, “Yup Sir!” and Vig moved to his position to await the Princess. The sunlight moved across the floor, warming the three slaves where they stood silently. Soon it passed, leaving the room in shade. Later, some chairs were brought in and placed in a row before the platform and a Tower servant lit the tall torches.

After a while, they could hear talking outside the throne room. The doors opened with Gordia and two guards, Sam and another, dressed in full gear, entering. They were followed by the Princess and a small group of men dressed in the dark fashion of the North Lands. Gordia stood by the side of the platform while the guards went behind it to stand on the bottom step.

The Princess brushed her soft hand against Vig’s hard flank as she climbed to her seat and she seemed to smile slightly at the big slave bound to one of the torches on either side. The delegation took their seats below but paid no attention to the men ringing her.

“I thank you for coming at such short notice. This crisis of Empire touches your Northern Free States as well, since a new government here might not keep the Treaty between us. That Treaty has resulted in peace and trade between the Confederacy and Empire. We both stand to loose greatly if ambitious men seize my Father’s crown.” One of the Northerners replied, “That is why we have come, Lady. We are prepared to aid you, to keep the peace between us. And though our great General Mortmere has retired, they say, to a hermitage, we are ready to provide supplies and troops for your Royal Brother to command.” “Then we are in agreement. I know that you have journeyed long. Let my servants take you to your chambers and I will supp with you all tonite, that we may conclude our alliance!” “So be it Lady!”

The delegates rose and bowed to the Princess and were led out by another of the older slaves who had been released from the galleys to serve in the Tower.

Princess Alexandra stood and started to walk to Vig when she noticed Blade, who, responding to Vig’s order earlier, was sporting an erection. She looked toward him and arched an eyebrow. Vig, seeing this, spoke, “Mistress, th’ galley slave seems glad to see his Mistress! We are all here t’ worship at ya feet!” “Well, yes, I can see that!” “Th’ three o’ us have been trainin’ to exhibit together for ya. May we show ya now, or p’haps when ya dine?”

“Alas, Vig, I think our dour Northerners might not appreciate your display, but we have hours before dinner, so you may do so now.” The Princess retraced her steps and resumed her seat, while Vig untied the two slaves. He, of course, kept their wrists latched back onto their slave belts.

The Princess watched intently as the three slaves began the routine they had practiced while Blade was recovering from his injuries. First Vig marched the galley slaves to the space directly before the throne platform. They stood stiffly at brace while the guard circled behind them, taking his driver belt and proceeding to belt each slave hard across the buttocks a dozen times, “T’ make sure they’re eager t’ display...” He stood before them, noting with satisfaction that each was sporting an erection bulging the soft leather strip running from the front to back of their slave belts that held their cocks and balls in place. Reaching between each slave’s legs he roughly pulled aside the strip, allowing their balls to hang free, their manhood to spring forth.

Vig turned toward his Mistress, unbuckling and dropping his guard kilt, revealing his own erection, stiffly pointing toward the Princess, “Mistress, I’ve trained these two f’ close drill an’ some new three man positions, to please your eyes alone...” He walked behind the galley slaves and barked a number. They squatted facing the Princess. Another number, and they assumed another position, displaying their strength and muscle control. This continued for several minutes until Vig turned toward the Princess and, grinning, dropped his leather guard’s kilt, revealing his stiffening manhood. He then turned to the two slaves and stepping forward, joined into the position they had assumed. The three continued to display further positions at Vig’s order. Intricate entanglements that received gasps of astonishment, for a couple of the more involved stances, from the Princess. Gordia, standing nearby, was gazing as though entranced. Then Vig stepped back from the two galley slaves.

Again Vig barked a number. The two immediately turned toward each other and went to their knees, thighs pressed against each other. They leaned backwards, bending so the shoulders almost touched the flooring, with their erections thrusting upward. “This position makes th’ slaves available fo’ Mistress’ pleasure.” “Yes, I can see, but would that position be comfortable? Gordia, go to the slaves and demonstrate that position.” “With pleasure, Princess!”

The priestess went over to the two slaves, undoing and dropping her shift as she walked, revealing her young body and firm breasts. As she reached the two galley slaves arched before her, she knelt before them, taking each erection in a hand, stroking them. “Oh Great Goddess, I give thanks for the manliness that Thou hast placed before me, for the purpose of giving Thee due worship.”

As the Princess laughingly called out an “Amon!” (the name of the Egyptian deity that was traditionally used to conclude prayers) the priestess stepped lightly between the galley slaves and turned toward Blade. “You need to both moisten me, fore and aft, or I fear I shall not be able to achieve that union which is beloved of the Goddess...”

The two hearty galley slaves bent immediately to the task set for them, pushing their rough tongues deeply into the recesses of the priestess. Gordia moaned, nearly lost her stand, but was held up by the two heads pushing at her front and back. After a minute, the Princess called out, “Well, enough of that, let’s see the full position.”

The priestess looked back toward her Princess and nodded, smiling. She stood back, leaned to the erections each galley slave sported and sucked and wetted each in turn. Then she stepped again between them and began to squat, carefully guiding each slave’s erection into one of her holes. As she settled between them, she told them to lean up and toward her, supporting her weight, as she was impaled by them. The priestess’s eyes widened as she felt the two erections fully entering her. Telling the slaves to rock back and forth, she closed her eyes and climaxed, repeatedly.

The Princess rose from her throne and came down to where Gordia and the two slaves were engaged in their demonstration. She stood behind Blade and took his big head in her delicate hands, bending it backwards, kissed him on the lips and across the face. “When you offer yourself to me or my priestess, you offer yourself to the Goddess. Tonite you and your oar mate shall do this service to me; but now, worship at this altar. Later, you will be mine.”

And so it was, after the Princess feasted the Northern Confederacy delegates, with Blade and Fortus bearing torches above her couch, she had the galley slaves brought to her for a night of dalliance.

-6-

After returning to the Draggon, Blade had no information regarding the great struggle, in many places beyond the Princess’s island; the struggle that would determine control of the Empire. If his Mistress’ Family lost, even the Twenty Year Peace with the Northern Free States would be in jeopardy. He nearly remembered that he had once been free, and had traded that freedom for his Mistress and the promise of peace. Now there was war. And all rested on an old Emperor, his son and Heir, and the Lady Alexandra, the Amazon Princess. If the truth were known, it was she whose actions had set the stage for the Royal Family’s return to power.

But Blade thought little of that. His only concern was to obey Renda and labor at the benches with his oar mate. He would row for his Mistress, wherever she needed her Draggon. Then, when his Princess needed him to strike, he would be unsheathed, again, from the Draggon, to do her bidding.

After yet further raids in which he and the warrior slaves disrupted the plans of the rebels, he had settled to the routine of the benches. He saw little of his Mistress, though now and again he was brought to serve her in the fore cabin.

And months later, again the Draggon was back at homeport and the slaves were rested in the clean stables there. His heart leaped when Vig appeared, telling him that he and his oar mate were to be brought before her, to the First Chamber of her Temple by her tall Tower, on her Island, in that Middle Sea her Family had ruled, and would rule again, even as she ruled him.

Epilogue

A half-year later, after the storm of Empire had calmed, the Princess and her priestess both (as so often occurs after war) became pregnant. But, that is another story. . .

And the Princess turned her attention to the great Sea west of the Gates of Hercules; to the building of galleys to conquer it. She knew ships that could row to the ends of the World would be grand and terrible places. She knew that her galley slaves would be eager for the task she would set them. Yes, especially her Blade.

But first, he must be brought to her Temple again, to the Inner Chamber, where they would both worship together, before the image of the Magdalene, the prophetess who had brought the secrets of the Sacred Whore from the lands of the East to Empire of the West. Then, to the new lands of the uttermost West her new ships would carry the image of the Goddess and her worship. She would be the new Magdalene, bearing in her Womb the new Divinity. There, with her Blade, she would be invincible.