The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Galley Slave

-PART THREE-

Over six years had passed since her galley slave had escaped the Princess Alexandra, a war had been fought and lost by her Father’s Empire... to the former galley slave. Now she awaited the return of her lover, to captivity...

-1-

Donna Alexandra was disguised in the plain clothes of a seafarer, and in the dark, none would take her for nobility. Her galley was anchored in this small north Mediterranean coastal village for a rendezvous. She pulled her cloak tighter and hurried to the seaman’s inn, with the sign of the Swaying Anchor.

The dim room was noisy, steamy and rank. How she longed for the purity of the sea. Then she saw Bragg. She had demanded that the former General leave the North and meet her here, to return to the Lightening. And the man had complied. He was here. The Princess’s heart pounded as she moved to Bragg. “Good. We go at once.” Bragg nodded and stood, tall and bursting with strength under the peasant tatters he wore. Without a word he followed his Princess out into the night, down the cobble streets, to a rowboat by the quay. “You will row me once again. The ship lies straight out into the harbor.”

Bragg rowed in silence, with his mistress directing him toward the bobbing lights of the galley. Soon they both heard the ship rising and falling on the sea swells. Donna Alexandra tied the boat to a rope ladder hanging off the stern. They entered the ship by the same window through which Bragg had escaped.

Once in the Princess’s pleasure chamber, she spoke, “The only words you will speak are those of the Rule you broke when you fled. Then, I will replace your chains, and you will be mine again, completely. Never will we acknowledge that any time has elapsed without you here. Do you understand?” “Aye Mistress!” “Good. Speak.” Bragg’s clear blue eyes pierced the Princess’s soul, as he spoke slowly, “Work... obedience... silence.” “Now strip, slave.”

Bragg complied, first kicking off sandals, then pulling off his tunic over his head, revealing to the Princess the firm musculature and hard physique of one who has not let time soften him. He then untied the cord around his trim waist and let his loose peasant pantaloons drop. He stood naked before his mistress. The Princess gazed openly at his powerful thighs, at his long, flaccid manhood, which quickly raised stiff in salute.

“Brace!” Bragg again complied, standing stiffly, hands clasped behind his back. Then the Princess took wrist and ankle cuffs, snapping them into place, and a worn galley slave’s belt and chain, fitting them closely around Bragg’s hard middle. She bolted the belt securely, tightening it against the small of her slave’s back. The chain was pulled around, pinning Bragg’s hands back, the wrist cuffs hooked to a latch on the bolting. “Good. Now you are ready to be returned to the benches.” The Princess turned as though to go.

“But first, I will dally with you here. Lay back against the divan.”

Bragg once more complied, and with each act of obedience, forgot more of his quest for freedom. He lay back to await his mistress’s pleasure, noting the mirrored ball hanging above, almost wondering about its use... it turned slowly in the breeze, the pale light of a hooded candle in the room glinting off its many facets; what was it... he tried to remember, but then blanking his mind, as he had been taught, he awaited his mistress.

The Princess first chained his strong legs to the divan, then, releasing his powerful arms, chained each back. Donna Alexandra quickly undressed and straddled the slave stretched out before her. She felt the hot throbbing of the man’s erection under her. She straddled it, pleasuring in its warmth, reaching down to stroke and massage her slave’s powerful neck and shoulders. She then turned her attention to the erection burning under her. First she raised herself up and bent down to wet it with her mouth, feeling its hot throbbing. Then, reaching deftly around, she guided it to her cleft and slowly impaled herself on its rigidity.

The slave’s huge, hot erection was so thick and hard that the Princess’s pleasure was tinged with pain, and even fear that the hugeness entering her would split her like a sword. But this Princess had many lusty, large slaves whom she had pleasured and she knew well how to receive them. She mused that when she first built this ship she was not so experienced. Indeed, the slave below her was one of the first from whom she had learned true pleasure. Now, the slave under her would also learn or relearn these many pleasures. The Princess thought, “Yes, he will pull oar for me, as he did; he will please me, as he did. He will need some months or a few years on the bench, then I will see where best to use him...”

Bragg knew none of his mistress’s thoughts, had surrendered himself completely, arching deeply into the Princess who rode him. Soon he could hold back no longer, and exploded in an orgasm of shuddering intensity, releasing himself entirely into his mistress, in spasm after spasm. The Princess, in her turn, climaxed over and over again as Bragg thrust beneath her.

The Princess collapsed onto him and they both lay together, breathing raggedly, then more calmly, together. As she fondled and stroked her returned oarsman’s muscles, the mistress softly told him about the changes aboard the ship since he was last aboard.

“When first we launched this galley, we strove to make it the fastest ship upon the sea. Ever after, I found means to improve its speed. Thus, there are changes since you last pulled oar for me. I would explain these to you.

“Aboard it may appear little has changed, though we have rebuilt much of the interior with lighter woods, and the oars are stronger and of improved shape, and are linked together more securely. ‘Tis wondrous to hear the oarsmen pulling together, singing the chantries I devised for them, or just breathing together, straining together; the wondrous ‘Huh!’ of their efforts...

“This ship, though, is not in isolation. Especially after I took over the dregs of the Skull Squad, I knew I needed a land-base for best efficiency. ‘Tis great, the cost to feed my many galley slaves enough for them to have strength to row hard. This is why so few rowed galleys remain. So I chose an old sea fort, on an isle in the sea, for my ship’s base. There I built my own domain, where only I and my slaves may go. The fort is now a castle on its promontory, built massive by my slaves’ labor. The slopes of land on the insula behind it are rounded by a sturdy wall and farmed by my slaves. There are fields of grains, orchards and vineyards. And the isle has a gold and silver vein running through it. Thusly, sometimes my slaves row for me, sometimes they work my farm, and, at times they break the earth to offer me gold and silver.

“Upon the isle, the order is near as strict as aboard this ship. It is like a monastery of some secret Rite. The oarsmen row half a year aboard, then labor half a year at the castle. Some of the older slaves now oversee the castle, or work my vines. Those who displease me may remain permanently at the mine, at hardest labor.

“You are strong of back and hearty. You will toughen to the work and remember how to please me. Remember all you were taught. Now gaze at yon glittering ball, watch it circle, blank your mind and remember the Rule I have given you, Work, Obedience, Silence...” She spoke on softly for a time, Bragg falling deeper and deeper into the glittering above, her voice falling deeper and deeper into his consciousness. Time stood still until he was roused by a sharp slap across the chest from his mistress’ fine, strong hand.

“Wake now. Attend to me. Now ‘tis time to bring you to the waiting deck and find you an oar mate among the older oar boys. Stand and remain silent.”

The Princess released the chains that held her slave to the divan and stepped back, to pull on her clothes. She watched her big slave stand tall from the place where he had offered such pleasure; stand silently at brace, hands behind his back. The mistress stepped forward, reaching around the slave to secure the huge hands with the slave’s waist chain and latch. She remained standing like that, feeling the warmth and strength radiating from this man who was now again completely hers; now and forever.

-2-

Up the familiar spiral stairs, they were quickly at the caged deck where the galley slaves were aired between resting and rowing. Though it was just barely dawn, Bragg could see the other slaves chained in their places. He was led to an empty spot where his mistress personally locked him by his ankles to the deck, by the wrists to the overhead caging. The Princess fondled the sturdy legs and arms, thighs and chest, carefully returning her slave’s manhood and testicles to the leather strip that circled through his legs, from belt front to back; she smiled as she finished securing the slave.

Scar, shaved head dimly shining in the near dark, looking as sternly the same as he had nearly a decade before, came up to them. The Princess spoke, as though no time had passed, “This slave needs an oar mate. Choose him a brawny oar boy who is ready to be assigned to rowing. They are not to sleep facing each other until I have had an opportunity to break them in together. Oh, yes, also brand him with a slave code number.” Scar snapped back a quick “Yup!” and stood staring at the slave while the Princess turned and left.

“Mistress said she had a galley slave for me to train strictly. Now I understand. You will be trained righteously for our Mistress. I’ll choose you the best oar boy I have, but then you two start at the bottom. Any privileges or rewards you get you must earn. Do you understand?” Bragg, imitating Scar, also snapped back a quick “Yup!” and remained silent. The Overseer raised his belt and struck the bound slave hard, two blows across the chest. Then he circled Bragg, appraising his strength, and standing close to him, struck five more hard blows against his bare buttocks. The slave made no sound, and neither winced nor struggled against the belt. Scar again stood just before him, reached with one massive hand between the slave’s legs, as though weighing his testicles through the leather, squeezed firmly, watching the slave’s impassive face closely. “Tough and submissive is the way our Mistress wants her slaves.” He squeezed harder, then released, smirking, nodded his head, and left.

Bragg had time to look at his surroundings as the sun rose. The ship seemed the same, the oarsmen looked healthy. Many had gold rings through ears or nipples. He could hear the “Huh!” of effort as the other watch worked the oars. The ship’s quickening movement brought the salt tang of the sea breeze to him. He knew he was back where he belonged.

Then Scar returned with his new oar mate. The lad was fairly tall, well muscled, with sun-dark, olive skin and short curly black hair; a youth of the southern lands. He looked up to Bragg as he was led forward, a bit confused and frightened. Bragg smiled broadly at him and the youth’s face lit, smiling back. The lad had on a fresh oarsman’s belt, his wrists pinned behind his back by the chain. Scar held the loose end of the short chain that would link them together. He chained the youth to the deck and cage next to Bragg and then chained the two together. Then he took his belt and alternately struck each slave’s buttocks, hard, ten times. The boy gasped with each blow, but Bragg remained silent. “Well taken... relax now. Soon you’ll both show me how hard you can row!”

After Scar had moved on, Bragg looked at the lad, caught him gazing back, and smiled; the former oar boy blushed, “You took that well lad. When you’re belted, ‘tis best not to struggle. Our Mistress wants her galley slaves tough and submissive. When she comes for us, we must serve her completely.”

Later Scar returned with one of the guards and a brazier of hot coals and a large book. The brazier had a set of small number brands with it, and the guard consulted the book for the next number. He took a short piece of leather that had served as a bookmark and told Bragg to bite on it. Scar carefully matched the number in the book with the brands and proceeded to burn five numbers into Bragg’s left buttock, then his right upper arm. The big slave winced at the first two brandings, then stood tall and silent as the Overseer completed his work. They then freed his right hand, pricked his right thumb, and marked the book, by the number, with his bloody thumbprint. The same was done with his oar mate who bore the pain silently, as shown by Bragg’s example.

So it was that Bragg returned to the bench, to row under the harsh demands of the drum, and Scar’s belt. Scar was not especially brutal with the two new oarsman, but demanded more effort from them each day. Bragg had little time to think and just allowed himself to be driven by the ship’s routine; rowing to exhaustion; catching a couple words here and there with his new oar mate, who mostly remained silent, but seemed very attentive to every bit of encouragement his big oar mate offered.

The Overseer was hard on all of the oarsmen. At the same time, he knew the limits of each. The ship moved fastest when each oarsman was driven to that limit. Scar used a shifting combination of belt and drum, punishment and reward to bring each pair of oarsmen to the mental and physical peak needed to maintain the pace the ship demanded. Bragg and his oar mate were always exhausted after each shift at the oars, their bodies and minds numb from the exertion required. During their sleep shift, they were buckled into their hammock, facing apart, to fall rapidly into deep sleep. As the days went by, the two new oarsmen hardened to the routine and became, as Scar knew they would be, trained rowers, minds and bodies ready to respond to his every command.

Scar understood that obedience begat obedience. His Mistress had trained him well, taking him from one of the Princess’s estates and preparing him to be the chief driver of her oarsmen. He loved his Princess unconditionally. He looked forward to those times, few as they were, when the Princess would take him to her pleasure cabin. He knew how honored he was that his Mistress would seek pleasure from him and his charges. So he felt pride as he trained these two newest rowers, preparing them for their Mistress’s pleasure, even as he drove them to speed their Mistress’s galley.

He knew that the big slave loved their Mistress perhaps even as much as he. Preparing this man for the Princess’s pleasure was one task he would enjoy. He knew he must create an unfulfilled level of desire in the slave that only their Mistress could satisfy. He would normally do this by having oars mates pleasure each other just often enough so that they were nearly always ripe for the Princess. But their lady did not permit that with this slave. Not yet, at least. So the Overseer took matters into his own hands.

The routine was that, after each rowing shift, the galley slaves would be chained onto the caged deck for a few hours of sun or air while they were cleaned and fed. Every other shift, the oar boys would come to each galley slave with large mouth bottles and masturbate them, causing their manseed to load the bottles, which were taken away, for their Mistress’s use. Then they would be hustled to their hammocks to sleep until they were next put to the oars. While on the deck, Scar would inspect them and at times help the oar boys at their tasks. Scar would take the big bucket of sudsy disinfectant and the large brush and scrub his charges.

He paid especial attention to Bragg and his oar mate. After scrubbing the muscular slave, he would handle him from behind, and fit the curved wire of the brush around his thick cock, teasing an enormous erection from him. The big man at first resisted this treatment and was severely beaten. Now he stoically took the Overseer’s attention and listened quietly as Scar talked to him about the Princess’s preferences. He would not permit the slave an orgasm, but told him that he was being primed for his Mistress. Nor were the oar boys permitted to drain his manseed. This training went on for nearly two weeks, as best as Bragg could tell. His sense of time, however, was no longer accurate, as he now lived to the rhythm of the rowing shifts, and not to that of day and night. A few times the ship put into port; a few times they rowed through heavy seas. He saw little of the Princess, and his Mistress did not deign to approach him. This, he knew, was his Mistress’s right. Yet he would still gaze longingly as the Princess would choose some sturdy oarsman to lead away for her pleasure.

-3-

But, then, eventually, the Princess came to him. “Scar tells me you are well prepared. Let us see.” Both Bragg and his oar mate were released from the gridwork overhead; their arms then quickly pinned behind. The guards stepped back and the Princess took control of the galley slaves. She walked between the two stiffly standing oarsmen and deftly slid her smooth hands, one between the muscular gluts of each. She was pleased how easily they each accepted her dominance; but, of course, Scar would have trained them to this as well. Controlling them physically, and signaling her complete mastery of her galley slaves, the Princess paraded the two across the deck to her private doorway. Once inside she released them, motioning them down the spiral stairs.

In the Princess’s pleasure chamber the galley slaves were left standing at brace while their Mistress poured herself a goblet of a white liquid, and, walking around them, studied them. “You are both good exemplars of the best trained galley slaves: quiet, obedient and well muscled. Scar did tell me he has been preparing you for me. It is time to test his judgment. First you will be loosened, then we will see.” She turned to the goblet, “This is yet another way my oarsmen serve me. When the oar boys drain your seed, it is bottled with strong spirits and makes the liquor I crave most. It tastes of the sea and of my galley slaves. Even when I am not here, I enjoy all that my slaves have to give.”

Donna Alexandra put her drink aside and, after positioning the slaves facing each other, proceeded to secure them, ankles to the floor, wrists near the cabin’s high curved ceiling, onto manacles provided for that purpose. She went back to her goblet, and, touching a knob on an ornate box near it, brought forth soothing music.

The Princess returned to her oarsmen. Standing close between them, she began to suckle and nibble first on one then on the other; sipping a mouthful of liquor, then returning to the bodies taut before her. Her lips lingered longer and longer at particular places as she slowly worked her way down toward the ultimate source of her pleasure. She was especially pleased at the involuntary groans and shuddering she was eliciting from the oarsmen as she enjoyed the most sensitive areas, such as the necks, nipples, armpits, tight waists and hard, slightly trembling bellies.

Stepping back, but still handling and stroking them, she began to talk to them about their bodies, and how she enjoyed their tastes, timing her words to their breathing, “Each part has its special aromas and nuances... you are each a garden and feast-table of olfactory and gustatory pleasure. For example, you are a decade or more apart in age, and of different ethnic stock. These produce differences in your smells and tastes. Having so many slaves to enjoy, I have learned to discriminate the differences, like fine wines. You are both wondrously fresh, ripe and wanting to please. You are an offering from the Gods.” With that she gave them each to drink of her goblet, draining the remains of the elixir. She pulled a small bench forward, sat, and turned her attention to their bulging manhoods, saluting her from below their galley slave belts.

The Princess began alternately sucking and handling her slaves’ erections. With her free hand, she probed between the hard-muscled gluts, forcing the slaves to loosen and relax to her demands. Their Mistress was skilled at this work and knew when to suck quickly, when slowly, so that the two were kept on the brink of orgasm, but never quite permitted release.

After some minutes of this treatment, the Princess stood to gaze at her slaves. Roughly squeezing and pressing their hard nipples, she laughed, “Well, you two are ripe for certain. Now to find how much you want to please.” She released her oarsmen and motioned them to the low divan in the middle of the chamber. Bragg quickly laid down on his back, stretching his arms and legs to the manacles which would hold them. His oar mate saw him and followed his lead. Their Mistress nodded her approval, motioning the oar mate to lie opposite Bragg and quickly chained them in place.

Deftly dropping her clothes, the naked Princess stood above her slaves, her ample breasts heaving in anticipation. Mounting the divan, she straddled Bragg, feeling the big man’s erection hot beneath her. She raised a little and smoothly inserted the slave’s erection into her waiting orifice. Although the slave was huge, his Princess took him into herself quickly and fully. Bragg could see the excitement and lust glowing in his Mistress’s face. Then the Princess bent over to suck in his oar mate’s throbbing erection.

She enjoyed her two slaves like this for several minutes. Sucking the one, squeezing and riding the other. The oarsman came, discharging his load into the Princess’s mouth. Then she turned her full attention to the slave she was straddling. She rode up and down on the big man’s erection, squeezing and releasing at each push, achieving climax after climax. Quickening her pace as the slave thrust furiously under her, she was satisfied with his throbbing orgasm, which spewed into her as she climaxed yet again above him. Then, lying across her spent slaves, she allowed herself to doze off. The two oarsmen, after glancing at each other, smiling, closed their eyes too.

Some time later the Princess awoke to the slow deep breathing of her galley slaves. She would let them rest briefly, then reward their exertions with bright nipple rings, and more exertions.

She woke them by handling their penises until they responded. Then leaving them strapped in place, she gave them cool water to drink from a flask and brought two gold rings to them. She showed them the rings, “These will show that you have pleased me. Wear them with pride.” She then deftly inserted the rings into the opposite nipple of each slave, squeezing hard to minimize bleeding. She licked up the drops of blood that had oozed out and cleaned the small wounds with strong spirits. “Good, now you can both exhibit your devotion and obedience. Please me more and I will reward you with more gold. But now that you have rested, it is time for you to again offer yourselves to me.” Without further explanation, the Princess again straddled her slaves and began sucking on their rapidly rising erections.

Again the slaves responded to their Mistress’s demands and shortly gave her two mouthfuls of the manseed she craved. After she had released them from the divan and chained their arms back again, she had them stand by the cabin door. The younger slave was standing first, with the bigger one just behind him. The Princess brought them together, stroked the big man’s penis hard again and placed it between the gluts of the younger slave. Then she reached under the older slave, from behind, and began to rub and stroke the base of his responding erection. “Good. Now you two stay tight together for a while.” She held them together and nuzzled them, sucking and biting the smooth skin of the neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of bright red marks on each. “I want you to train each other for me. From now on you will sleep facing each other. After those shifts when the oar boys have not drained you, and bottled your manseed for me, you will be permitted to pleasure each other.”

Looking first to her big slave, motioning to the younger, “You will suck this one, bringing him quickly to release.” Then reversing her instructions, “You, my lusty lad, will suck this one’s manhood, but, by careful attention, you must not often permit him any release. You must teach him to hold back on his release as long as possible. Do you each understand?” The two slaves snapped back their well-trained “Yup!” in unison. The Princess was pleased at how much harder the big man’s erection had become as she instructed them. They would adopt well to the Rites of her Island retreat. The Princess thought, “Now this one wants to be trained and tested. I will see if his loyalty is as strong as that of my guards...”

She stood for a while in thought, fingers of each hand intertwined with the short silky pubic hairs of each stalwart oarsman. The Princess leaned against her slaves, feeling their strength and warmth. She was silent for some time and then softly spoke, “It is time to return to your duties. In perhaps a week I will have you again.” She opened the cabin door. There was a large blond guard standing a brace before it. “Vig, take these two to their rest. They have pleased me adequately... The big one is ready for special training; he is assigned to you: use him without mercy or limit.” And so Bragg and his oar mate were led from the Princess, back to their labors.

The guard who took them from their Mistress was one of the elite group that was always with her. Bragg knew that only those special guards were permitted aboard the Lightening. This guard was nearly as big as Bragg, and appeared a light-haired Northerner as well. The guards were trained to treat the oarsmen roughly, to show their higher status and dominance, though they too were the Princess’s slaves and submitted to her will in every way.

Bragg did not flinch when the guard struck a hard hand across his bare gluts as the Princess closed the cabin door behind them. “Ya oar slaves gotta learn to please ‘ar Mistress in all things!” He quickly hustled them up the spiral stairs and across the now empty deck, down to the slaves’ sleep area. Along the way he smacked Bragg’s buttocks sharply a few more times, telling him, “Ya new here, Scar told me t’keep an eye on ya. Mistress says ya mine t’train! Gonna guard ya close; train ya right fo’ ‘ar Mistress! Ya mine t’use an’ abuse.”

When he had them belted into their hammock, the guard stayed by Bragg. With their heads close together, he probed one rough hand between the slave’s hard gluts, pushing ‘til he found the tight anus. He spoke softly, but hoarsely, “Tight virgin butts need trainin’ t’please ‘ar Mistress. Gonna train ya right. Mistress sometimes hon’rs us by holding Feast aboard. We serve her Feast on th’ slave deck an’ we show her ‘ar obed’nce. Galley slaves don’t ‘ave names, but I know ya an’ ya gotta remember me: Mistress calls me “Vig” ‘cause I’m vig’ros. Ya start trainin’ t’mor’w aft’r rowin’!” Vig pushed his forefinger harder against Bragg’s resistance until it entered and he could feel the big man squirming. After a few seconds he withdrew, turned to leave, “Ya gonna learn Mistress’ Way good. We start t’mor’w.”

-4-

The next day the galley slaves rowed hard through calm seas. Scar maintained a quick pace, driving them to exhaustion. Later, when they were on the slave deck, being cleaned and fed, Vig came over to Bragg, “When th’ slaves go rest, ya stay here f’trainin’!”

Bragg and his oar mate were left on deck when the others went below. Vig released only the big galley slave, quickly pinning his arms behind him. He stepped back to study his charge, standing stiffly at brace, waiting. “First gonna learn ya th’post’rs by name an’ number. Then gonna drill ya ‘til ya do ‘em right. That’l take maybe five, maybe ten trainin’ times. Then we ‘ave th Trainin Member, made o’leather. Drill ya in th’post’rs wit’ that! Then Vig moves in. teach ya t’take me righteous. Drill like that ‘til Feast. Ya getting First Degree Trainin’. It’s just post’rs f’fuckin’. Th’ oth’r degrees teach tumblin’ an’oth’r things t’please Mistress at Feast.”

First post’r’s easy. ‘Brace’ you know.” He took up the short belt hanging at his side and walked behind the big slave, smacked him hard across the gluts. “Number One’s ‘Brace.’ If ya don’t know what ya should be doin’ ya do Number One.” He whacked his charge again, harder. “Number Two’s called ‘Post.’ Ya arms stay pinned behind ya, o’course. Ya bend forward and down, like this.” Vig pushed the galley slave into position. He continued naming and numbering the positions, each more humiliating than the last. He took every opportunity to smack the slave across the buttocks as he drilled him over and over in the half dozen or so positions. “Ya make a sound, ya get punched; ya don’t move quick, ya get smacked; an’ if ya dis’bey... but ya never dis’bey!” Bragg was wearying of the barrage of abuse and demands. If his hands had been free... But the session ended and the guard rushed them to their sleep.

Thus it continued for about ten days. The first time the guard used the leather anal probe on him he resisted and he was beaten to the ground. Both Vig and Scar beat and punished him for several days after that, without resuming his training. Then they belted him to the deck so he could not move and did what they intended. And, days later, both Vig and Scar were present when the guard substituted his own erection for the plug. Scar held the galley slave in position while Vig pushed in his erection. By this time, the galley slave had learned to submit. Vig entered him swiftly, deeply. Scar standing by, arms folded across his massive chest, belt dangling from one hand. The guard, as usual, began to order the slave from position to position until he could smoothly move from one to another, with his trainer impaling him.

“Ya doin’ good slave; we gotta move like one.” Scar added, “You must do this exhibit without either desire or thought. You should be like a moving statue, exposed for the pleasure of our Mistress’ sight. Train with your eyes closed. That will be better. Vig will push you to more extreme versions of the positions. You will be able to succeed at them only if you trust him completely and rely on his handholds to maintain your joint balance. Like a moving statue.” Scar left them to practice.

At first only his oar mate was there, watching his training. Then, while he was being drilled, some of the other guards were there, training their charges. Just a few times he noticed the Princess, above, watching. He learned to submit his body completely to his trainer; together their movements from position to position became fluid and even graceful. His trainer taught him to maintain posture while he repeatedly inserted and withdrew his erection, “T’show Mistress ya can take it all...” Vig pushed harder and harder, telling him that the Mistress’s Feast was soon. They were going to perform together, before their Princess.

The galley slaves were always being told not to think; just doing the task at hand was to occupy their complete attention. So Vig’s trainee tried hard not to think about him and the training except when it was happening. Vig saw him mostly only to train him, but on occasion, would come by just to talk to him, as he fell asleep, about Work, Obedience and Silence, the Rule they were all to live by. Other than that, the galley slave’s life was one of rigorous routine. What mattered most was rowing to Scar’s demands.

-5-

Then one day, as the shifts were changing, Scar pulled aside Bragg, his oar mate, and a few of the others, “You rest today. We Feast our Princess tonite.” After the previous watch had been processed for sleep, the waiting oarsmen were marched up to the slave deck, chained down and told to sleep.

It was nearly dark when the guards came to position the galley slaves along the edges of the deck area, stretched and chained from decking to the grating overhead. Slaves from the other watch were also brought out. Vig put Bragg and his oar mate next to each other, then helped the other guards set up a fine table and chair, with linen, shining silverware and all the other accouterments of a Feast for One. Torches were lit and drums set out. They awaited the Princess.

The drummers began. Donna Alexandra came onto the slave deck. She wore the soft white tunic and sandals she preferred aboard her ship. Every time Bragg saw her, she looked more... princessly. He could barely breathe as he watched her enter. Their Mistress sat and looked about; for one brief moment, staring directly at him. The drums stopped, “My, such a fine table set before me, by my slaves. I know you are all eager to feast me; to show me your devotion to the Rule: Work, Obedience and Silence. Therefore, let the Feast begin!”

As the drums began again, some of the slaves, including Bragg’s oar mate, were released to serve the Princess. Scar brought forth the first offering, a gold goblet. Bowing low before the Princess, he filled it with the milky liquor made from the slaves’ manseed. He went to his knees, holding high the goblet, “Oh great Princess, all we are is yours, in Work, Obedience and Silence. Oh Princess of the Mystic Rites! All praise to you, Mistress of the Lightening!” The Princess stood, took the goblet, drank deeply, and smiled, Bragg felt, directly at him. As she sat, trays of food were brought before her, to choose from. All the while, the drums beat on. The ship rowed on, at an easy pace.

First the slaves trained in tumbling and acrobatics were brought before the Princess. After bowing low, their arms were freed. They exhibited their skills while she ate. But for the drums, all was silent. The dozen slaves rolled, twirled, built fantastic shapes of intertwined bodies, arching and stretching between deck and grating. The Princess ate sparingly, but drank goblets of the special liquor as she watched intently. The exhibition and drums reached their climax. Then, Silence, and the panting, naked acrobats flopped full-length on the decking, arms stretched out toward their Mistress.

The table was cleared, the acrobats chained back into place and watered. Trays of fruit and dainties were brought before the Princess. She picked some and followed them over to the slaves who had just finished their exertions. She stroked a few on their panting flanks, or rubbed the backs of their necks. Then she hand fed treats to each, reaching between their thighs to fondle them; all the while speaking in a low voice that Bragg could not overhear; he could, though, see the look of devotion in their eyes. She singled one of the tumblers—a brawny but lithe fellow—for special attention, feeding him an extra treat, embracing him, then stepping back to exhibit the slave’s erection, stroking it swiftly until the glans bulged red from the stretched foreskin. “Cup!” A silver drinking horn was brought before her and she placed the slave’s cockhead into it, stroking even faster. The galley slave quickly climaxed. After squeezing the last drops into the drinking horn, the Princess raised it up, receiving the manseed in one gulp. She handled the slave’s chest and sides—kissed him about the neck—until the man’s ragged breathing calmed. Giving one last pinch to the nipples, the Princess smiled and turned away.

The drumming began again, softly, as the Princess returned to her seat. She nodded to the guards, who stepped before her and saluted. “I know you have worked hard with selected galley slaves to show me their obedience and devotion. Your training of my slaves for exhibition at Feast is important to me. It allows you all to demonstrate the Rule, Work, Obedience and Silence. It permits me to determine which slaves are fit for further training in the Rites of our Island paradise. Therefore, bring your charges forward so you may show how well they are trained!” The guards snapped back a quick “Yup!” and turned back to their trainees, stretched across the edge of the deck.

Bragg breathed deeply and calmly, waiting for Vig to release the chains holding him to the deck, then again waiting as Vig chained his hands behind him. The trainer handled him roughly, slapping him hard and loudly across the buttocks as he prepared him for exhibition. Bragg knew this was appropriate and would show his Princess how well he was being trained. From behind, Vig inserted a hand between the slave’s legs, seizing his testicles and marching him forward, to join the other slaves lined before the Princess. Vig told him to shut his eyes and he obeyed.

The drumming became louder and quicker as Bragg responded to Vig’s handling and commands, going from position to position. He held himself tight and hard between moves, feeling, through his closed eyes, his Mistress gazing at him. Vig used one hand to smack his trainee, the other to probe and loosen him. As he and his trainer moved closer together, he could feel the guard’s manhood becoming firmer. Then, while the galley slave squatted, Vig pulled him close and entered him with a swift thrust.

They continued moving through the exhibition positions, tight together, flowing together from one to another as the drumming raced on. At some stances they would halt, as his trainer would withdraw his hard shaft nearly to the throbbing tip, then thrust again deeply in. Bragg gave himself completely to his trainer’s demands. Then the drumming stopped. He was told to open his eyes. As he did so, he saw the Princess staring intently. “You have done well, slave, on this, your maiden exhibit. You two may step back as the others demonstrate for me. Breathe and relax; then, Vig, you may rejoin the others when you are ready.”

They stepped back, still locked together, breathing to calm from their exertions. Bragg was able to watch the others exhibit before their Mistress. After a few minutes, Vig pushed him forward again, to join the line of slaves demonstrating the stances in unison. Bragg, with his eyes open this time, offered himself completely before his Princess. Several times the trainers took up their belts and striking loudly across their charges’ buttocks, they beat a unified beat, timed to the drums. This alteration of positions and beltings continued for perhaps an hour, with the Mistress relaxing in her chair, sipping her special liquor. Then the Princess stood, motioning for stillness.

Donna Alexandra stood before her guards and their trainees. Holding the drinking horn up, she spoke to them, “You have well pleased me. You guards will be rewarded and given more galley slaves to train in this fashion. You oarsmen have shown me once again that ‘though you are bound and compelled to obedience, you are devoted to me and to the Rule. Your reward is to row hard for me, and to give me your all. She then went to each slave, except Bragg, stroking each to draw forth his manseed, filing her cup. After draining the cup she first turned to Vig, “Take this one and his oar mate down the spiral and allow them to rest. I will have use for them later. Let the others be chained back in place. Let the tumblers resume their exhibit.” Then quietly to him she said, “You will begin training them both, with you, together, in new positions I will devise for you.” Vig replied, with obvious pleasure in his Princess’ new command, “Aye Mistress!” The Princess returned to her seat as Bragg and his oar mate were led away.

Vig secured the two galley slaves to the divan and left them in the darkened cabin. They fell asleep to the sound of drumming from the deck above, and the “huh” sound of the rowers as they speed the ship through the night.

-6-

During the night Bragg felt a familiar weight lay down across him and his mate. He awoke with the light and his Mistress fast asleep on him. He lay there watching the beautiful Princess’s face, so peaceful in sleep. Bragg knew that serving this Mistress was all he wanted. Anything the Mistress wanted he would offer. He knew that he was bound and compelled to work, obey and be silent. But this was what he wanted. His Princess’s desires were his life. She was his Goddess and his total being.

Soon the Princess woke and smiled as she saw her slave’s gaze of love and devotion, “Good morning my slave. You did well last night. Now you have more for me.” The Mistress turned to Bragg’s mouth and kissed him deeply; then to his sex and coaxed it to erection with her warm tongue. She sucked hard and quick until the man gave up his load, shuddering and squirting it deep into her mouth. After thoroughly draining her galley slave, the Princess raised herself up and deftly inserted the slave’s still rigid manhood into her warm sex. Bragg could see her eyes open as she road him fully, her lips parted in ecstasy. The Princess road him like that for many minutes, climaxing over and over, until she finally collapsed back onto his muscled chest, her long golden hair undone and spilling across his shoulders and her, filling him with her intoxicating aroma. They lay together, still linked by Bragg’s softening sex snuggled in his Princess. Their breathing slowed and unified. They slept.

Some time later, a calmed Donna Alexandra stepped back from the divan, “This pleases me. You will have further opportunity to please me today. I go ashore and need two strong slaves to bear my liter through the City, to the Nunnery I have endowed on the mountain-top beyond. My guard Sam, here, will come to prepare you as I dress.”

As the Princess left the pleasure chamber, her guard entered. Sam, a redheaded giant from some far north island, saluted his passing Mistress and hurried to the galley slaves. The big one was awake. He shook the other, “Up and at it, lads. Time t’ go fo’ walk wit’ our Mistress.” As he unchained them, and they stood, “It’s two miles thro’ th’ City an’ five up an’ aroun’ th’ Mount.” He spoke directly to Bragg, “Saw you exhibit befo’ Mistress—did good. She certainly liked, since ya’ here...” He motioned them to follow. Bragg hesitated, confused. He went to brace and clasped his hands behind him. “Oh yea, havn’t chain’d ya. Musn’t leave ya unbound. Mistress says, ‘Galley slaves must always be bound to their task at hand, and compelled to it. Even the most devoted and willing galley slave must never be given any choice.’ Mistress knows best.” He secured Bragg and his oar mate’s wrists to their belts, then, grinning broadly, smacked Bragg hard across the buttocks. He wrapped his arms roughly about the two slaves, pulling them together, nuzzling them. “I heard what Mistress said. Maybe Vig’ll need some help trainin’ y’two.” Then he backed off a bit, took his driver belt and whacked them hard a half dozen times. Still grinning, he pushed them out and up the spiral.

Once on the deck, the slaves were secured, scrubbed and fed. Their feed was the usual salty gruel. On those few watches he did not row, Bragg would sometimes help with the gruel. It was mostly cracked oats and grains, boiled in seawater, with whatever scraps were left from the Mistress’s table, guards’ larder, together with any sea life caught in dragnets trailed behind the ship, ground fine and mixed in.

The liter was brought on deck and the slaves brought to it. The sedan chair was set onto two hefty poles which had manacle hooks set into them and a belt contraption attached. The belts, one to each pole, were adjustable to the slaves’ arm length. These were then bolted to a leather yoke which fit across the shoulders and around the base of the neck. Thus most of the liter’s weight was born on the shoulders, with the arms absorbing the shocks, for their Mistress’s comfort.

The red-headed guard directed Bragg and his oar mate to the liter. After the slaves were secured and bolted in place, Vig arrived with two bundles and took one over to Bragg. He opened it; it was a length of rough gray cloth with a slit in the middle. This he pushed over the big man’s head and under the yoke, letting the cloth fall across the slave’s powerful chest and massive back. It reached just below his pubes. Vig then tied a piece of cord around the slave’s tight waist, to hold it in place. He placed one firm hand on Bragg’s chest, then gave him a quick, hard jab in the gut with the other, forcing a tight “huh” from the muscular slave. “Consider today’s work mo’ trainin’! Gonna watch ya close.” He repeated the procedure with the other slave, but without the punch.

“Now ya’ ready fo’ th’ high priv’lg o’ bearin’ Mistress on land. Ya’ stand proud an’ tall. Walk steady an’ quick, holdin’ Mistress smooth. An’ look happy! Ya’ two ar’ well-muscled an’ well-fed galley slaves. Show it! In ya silence, let the common folk know ‘tis great priv’lege t’serve an’ obey!” He led them and the chair through the grating across the main deck and down a ramp to the dock. There were two other guards, standing tall and strong, waiting. All stood at attention, waiting...

-7-

After a few minutes the Princess disembarked the Lightening. She was resplendent in yellow and gold. She was followed by two more galley slaves, carrying another liter laden with several travel cases. Donna Alexandra took her place in her liter and nodded to Vig. The procession began: one guard followed by the Princess’s liter, followed by her baggage, followed by another other guard. Vig walked alongside his Mistress. Sam, beside the second liter.

Bragg carried the sedan chair easily, stealing glances about the town as he walked down a main thoroughfare, feeling the rough cobblestone under his bare feet. He stood stiffly, head straight ahead as he went, moving as he knew his trainer demanded, but he could not help his eyes wandering as he went, seeing all the normal sights of normal life. The galley slaves were isolated, denied so much by their Mistress in her zeal to use them completely for her needs and pleasures. But he knew, and understood that his trainer and oar mate would both know, that they lived only to serve their Princess and Mistress. This was enough.

So they went through the town: a few street boys in tatters, begging for alms, taunted the slaves, “Look, naked men, belt marked an’ bruised...” One old woman hushed them, “Yea, strong’uns like that, ya think wouldn’t let ‘emselves be so used, but slaves are like that, trained t’obey, not like ya street rats...”

Bragg thought they would be better off aboard the Lightening. Here they would be nothing more than street scum. There they could serve the Princess. Echoing his thought, he heard his Mistress say to Vig, “These strays remind me, the ship could use a few more oar boys. We will be here a few days. Tonight you can catch a few for my approval. Let Sam and the big slave help you” Vig snapped back a “Yup!” and Bragg could see his Princess lazily reach out to stoke the guard’s strong thigh as they walked.

Soon they were through the town and out its wall. The mountain loomed high, and there were buildings, near its peak, far above. It was becoming a warm day; the road was dusty. Then an Inn came in view and the Princess spoke, “I know this place. We stop here, Vig, to quench our thirsts.” Vig ordered a halt. As their Mistress stepped toward the Inn door, she called back, “Water the galley slaves; I’ll have ale sent out for you and the other guards.”

Vig motioned the liters around the side of the Inn, by the watering trough for the horses and other beasts of burden. There he had the slaves squat in the muck, still attached to the liters. He ordered them to piss where they were, and the slaves complied, sending steaming streams of urine onto the ground beneath their feet. The guards relieved themselves by the Inn wall, except for Vig who walked over to Bragg and urinated on the big slave’s strong legs and feet, leaving him in a muddy piss puddle. There were a few buckets by the watering trough. Vig and the other guards took these and poured several buckets of cool water over each bearer. Vig then brought a final bucket of water over, to let each slave drink his fill. He told them to shut their eyes and rest where they were. Someone brought ale from the Inn and the guards found a bench in the shade. It was quiet while they awaited the Princess. Bragg knew that Vig was watching him, continuing to train him in obedience to their Mistress.

One of the wench’s came out to tell them the Princess was preparing to leave. Vig ordered the slaves to stand and march to the front of the Inn. There, after a few moments, they were joined by the Princess. She nodded to the guard and mounted the chair. They started off at a quick pace down the road, toward the looming mountain.

After a minute the Princess called over to Vig, “I smell horse manure, but no horses about...” “Yup Mistress, it’s th’ slave feet. Water’d ‘em by th’ horse through. Th’ slave feet got mucky.” “I see. Well, part way up the mountain, they’ll be wading a stream. It certainly does not matter that galley slaves have horse shit on their feet ‘til then!”

The road came close to the mountain, where a small path led off and nearly straight up to the nunnery, mostly by steps cut into the rock. “They call this the “Stair to Heaven,” but, for the liters, we shall take the back way up. A few miles on, this road meets the Great Trade Way north. There a somewhat less steep path leads up.” Vig called to the bearers to quicken their pace, marking his demand with the belt he carried. He saw to it that he caught a few hard whacks across the backside of each slave as he pushed them even faster along the straight and even roadway, their hard feet slapping its smooth surface.

Soon they came to the juncture with the Trade Road. It was a broad, stone paved roadway, stretching north and south as far as the eye could see. A short distance south, the Road bridged a stream from the mountain. The Princess directed them along the path that left the Road, crossing the stream, to zigzag steeply up the mountain. Vig had the slaves stand in the stream a few moments before wading out and onto the nunnery path.

Carrying the liters up the path was hard work, but not nearly as hard as rowing to Scar’s demands, watch after watch. Soon, though, the cloth draped over each slave was soaked with their sweat as they struggled up the mountain, with Vig and his belt urging them to “Move quick an’ careful; hold Mistress level!” Vig stayed close by the big galley slave who was lead bearer, to maintain the forced pace.

Then they rounded a huge boulder carved in the likeness of some ancient Goddess and saw a straight way running a thousand yards to the nunnery’s massive gates. The Princess called out to Vig, “Run them as fast as they can, let’s see how they can race!”

Vig snapped the order and the slaves lurched forward at a run. Paced by the quick slapping of the guard’s belt against the lead bearer’s buttocks, the other guards raised their belts; the galley slaves and guards ran full out until the walls loomed above them. They halted at the gate, with the slaves gasping and the guards panting. Donna Alexandra smiled serenely at her bearers and guards, “Well done, my slaves. Now this nunnery is a place of quiet and repose. The nuns have a Rule similar to yours; they too value work, obedience and silence. You are all to be on your best behavior. We are guests of my Cousin the Abbess for a few days of retreat. Now, you galley slaves: down in the port, the Lightening will be out every day, rowing for practice, so we will not allow you to become lazy. The nuns will have some use for your muscle. And I will have use for you all, since this is a nunnery of the Order of Holy Magdalene and the Rites of the Hidden Way. Vig, strike the door gong!”

The great gateway opened silently, and silent nuns in brown robes ushered them in. Within the walls were wondrous gardens and orchards. The ancient shield walls—relics of some long gone fortress—had many out buildings against them, but at the far back was the great stone temple, with its tower reaching far above. The Lady Alexandra remembered the great, ancient statue of the Magdalene, arrayed as Great Isis, within the Temple’s Holy of Holies.

They reached the broad steps of the main building. There the Princess stepped forth to be greeted by the Abbess of the Mountain, also clad in a simple, long, hooded brown robe. While they exchanged pleasantries the guards unloaded the baggage. Their Mistress turned back, “Vig, come with me. The nuns will take care of the rest. Guards, see to it that the bearers are well secured.” She and the Abbess entered the main building as several nuns led the bearers and remaining guards off.

They were led to a small, but very clean and well-lit stable, available for the few times horses were brought up the mountain. There the slaves were unhitched from the liters. After their wrists were secured to their belts, they were taken in pairs into the stalls. The guards bound ropes about their waists and through their clasped hands, securing them to the stall posts. Nuns led the guards away.

Bragg could stand and move about on the end of the rope, but could not leave the stall. His oar mate sat against the wall to rest. Bragg joined him. This was the first time they had been alone together in all their months of training and labor. He whispered, “Name’s Bragg, what’s yours?” The lad gazed straight at him, but did not speak. Bragg continued whispering, “I know the Rule. But we may not be alone again... Since I’m lead on the oar, I outrank you. Answer my questions. Do you have a name?” “Nup.” “Right, good galley slaves don’t have names. Before you were an oarboy you were a city rat, so guess you don’t have a name. I’ll give you one. You are Fortas, for your strength.” The youth smiled broadly. “Do you love our Mistress?” “Yup!” “So do I, more than anyone—but I love you too, Fortas, in service to the Princess together! Do you understand that...”

Bragg stopped suddenly, as one of the nuns, a young one in a short gray robe, came into the stall, carrying two buckets, a blanket and a box. She was lithe, with dark short cut hair and an open, friendly face.

The nun startled Bragg with a cheery “Hello! I’m Sister Gordia!” as she set down the items she held. The young nun noticed the reaction and spoke, “We gray-robes are probationary members of the Order. We are not yet pledged to complete Silence. Are you allowed to speak?” Bragg snapped back “Nup!” and stood stiffly at brace, as did his oar mate. “Well, I suppose you can answer questions. I am here to clean and feed you. I see you are bound. Am I permitted to release you?” “Nup.” “Well, then let’s start by removing your clothing. You do not seemed used to wearing these?” “Yup, Mistress had us clothed for th’ run up to this place.” “I see. Yes, I have heard of her swift ship and its naked slaves.” The young nun went closer to Bragg and gently rolled the cloth up the slave’s massive chest, pulling it over the head, her cool, smooth hand lingering on the slave’s hard musculature. She did the same with Fortas. “You are both very handsome. Such men as you are pleasing to our Holy Lady Mary, and, I suspect, to our Princess!”

She then put the two buckets before them. One was empty, except for a large sponge. The other was filled with a warm aromatic liquid. The nun used the sponge to carefully clean the slaves, from head to foot. As she slowly and firmly cleaned their sex and anuses she giggled softly as their erections responded, “Well, I see you two know how salute and show appreciation... in Goddess’ Name.” As she knelt before them, cleaning their strong legs and feet, she allowed her head, then her lips, to brush against the erections. But, she stepped back, half-smiling, and removed the buckets.

Spreading the simple brown blanket on some clean straw, she motioned for them to sit. She then joined them with the box. Three on a blanket just fit, close together. Saying “It’s warm here...” the nun pulled off her robe, revealing a fine, supple, young body, with small, outward poking breasts. Then she opened the box. There was a bowl in it, from which the warm aroma of stew arose. She fed them alternately with a wooden spoon. They ate eagerly until the stew was completely gone. Then she allowed the younger slave to lick the spoon and bowl clean. This done, she put the spoon and bowl back into the box and laid them aside.

“Now that you are both clean and well-fed you can rest. The ropes are long enough, so lay down together.” As soon as they were stretched out side-by-side, the young nun straddled their touching legs and began to massage thighs, chest and bellies. The two slaves’ erections arched quickly up. “In our Order, we are trained to offer Service to Our Lady in this manner.” The nun grasped both firmly and began to stroke and manipulate them. She leaned close to the hard cockheads, teasing each with her warm lips. Without releasing her grip, she began to alternately suck on each engorged cockhead. Gordia was thrilled at the slaves’ response, knowing she could have anything she wanted from them. She especially enjoyed their involuntary groaning and grinding as she took more and more of their erections into her mouth. She mused that they must be used to this sort of treatment. Their beautiful Mistress must take them like this—and other ways, too. The young nun wanted to explore all the possibilities, but knew that she was bound to virginity so long as she remained a probationary sister at the nunnery. Straddling the two massive slaves below her, she felt an unaccustomed sense of power. She understood why the guards handled these slaves so harshly; what could they do if they broke their bonds?

Then the younger slave began to thrust wildly, arching toward Gordia, offering his manseed. The nun sucked greedily on the throbbing erection, feeling it expand in girth as the sperm rushed to burst from the cockhead deep into her throat. After assuring herself that she had totally drained the now spent manhood softening within her mouth, the nun turned toward the other, more massive slave, concentrating on the enormous erection pulsing before her.

She thought, “This slave had such an air of strength and vitality about him.” Restraint by ropes seemed to enhance the sense of titanic power bound. The hard, muscled body before her was like a sacrifice offered on the altar. She would be the priestess of this offering and bring it forth. Gordia dove onto the slave’s erection, sucking its length fully into her mouth and throat. She immediately began rapid movement, stimulating the slave to quickly reach climax. And climax he did, spewing manseed deeply into the nun’s throat. The slave’s copious flow was accompanied by shuddering thrusts and a powerful arching.

Gordia released the still throbbing erection, collapsing forward, onto the slave’s heaving chest. Then she pulled herself up the length of her ‘offering’ to look square into his clear blue eyes. She spoke slowly and firmly. “The Goddess loves you, and, thus, so do I.” The young nun quickly rose and left, with the big slave’s eyes gazing at her until she disappeared. A few minutes later, as she passed the stall again she saw the two soundly asleep.

-8-

Bragg was abruptly shaken awake in the dark. A smooth hand, the young nun’s, was placed across his lips, as though he might speak out. He thought “The lass wants more...” as she reached around the big man’s bulk and quickly cut through the rope securing the slave to the stall post.

Gordia motioned him to follow, as she moved in the dim light to the back of the stables. There a crook in the wall had a narrow door and passage to the outdoors.

They stopped in the passage and again the nun stopped his lips. They could hear men in armor running in the stables, then a harsh whisper, “’Tis dark, but ‘is slaves look all tied in th’ stalls... Orders t’take ‘er; kill ‘er guards. N’thin ‘bout no slaves. Kill ‘em too?” “Nah, they just slaves... Maybe we can sell ‘em later...”

The young nun pressed herself against the slave’s broad chest; wrapped her arms about big, naked man, trembling. When it was quiet out, she whispered, “Some soldiers have come to seize your Mistress. They struck the Abbess. I think the Princess’s guards are barricaded with her in her room. What can we do?”

The slave’s voice was low, and very cool, “Release my wrists and take me to them. I’ll pretend to be bound when we meet soldiers. Say you were told to bring me to my Mistress. I’ll do the rest.” Gordia fumbled with the complex lock, noting that the bound slave could never have released himself. The latch opened, but she remained against the slave, her arms around him. Bragg gave the nun a quick hug and turned her to the end of the passage. There he returned his hands to their position behind his back, and Gordia, holding them there, guided him outside.

All was quiet until they were well within the massive structure of the main Nunnery building. As they penetrated closer to the Princess they were confronted by two soldiers, swords drawn. They looked carefully at the muscular slave being led toward them by a young nun. “What ‘ave we ‘ere?” The nun stuttered, “I... I was told to bring this slave to the Princess...” “Well, ‘er Highness’s plans been changed... She won’t need ‘er stallion where she’s goin’!” One guard nodded to the other, “Take ‘em back to th’ stables an’ see that ‘e’s well tied!”

The soldier motioned them about with his sword and began to follow them back down the hallway. They turned a corner and the nun casually asked, “Sir, what is happening?” “Somethin’ big. Th’ King is dying. Th’ Crown Prince is disappeared; this Princess ‘as been denounced. A Council of Nobles is takin’ ov’r.” As they turned another corner, Bragg turned around, pushing aside the nun. He struck the soldier full force, punching his head against the wall.

The soldier slid limply to the ground, with no other sound. Gordia went to him, looked up to the huge slave standing over him, “He’s dead!” “Right. I’ll take his helm, shield and sword. Follow, but at a safe distance. I move quick, quiet and bloody...” “You were not always a slave...” “Right.”

They ran back the way they had come. Bragg was onto the other soldier before he had time to shout, and another lay dead.

Two more were caught from behind. They too died in silence.

Then they were around the last corner from the Princess’s holdout. There were four soldiers by the door. One was speaking, “The battering ram will be here in an hour, with the rest of the troops. They’re outnumbered. We’ll take turns watching and resting.”

They had no chance, in the small space by the barred door, to defend themselves against the naked blood splattered apparition who descended on them, sword flashing and biting deep. Quickly all four were dead. And all was silent.

He struck hard on the door with the sword hilt, deep voice booming, “My Princess, open the door; all those here are dead!” The peep hole opened, then slowly, the door.

As soon as Bragg saw his Mistress he came to attention, stood silently, blood dripping down his arms and body. The wide-eyed Princess and guards stared at the carnage before them and the young nun standing there spoke, “When the soldiers came, I freed your slave. I saw it all. He killed eight of them. There will be more back within the hour, with a battering ram. We must flee; I will show you the way. They said the King was dying, your Royal Brother missing. You have been denounced by some Council of Nobles. The soldiers hurt the Abbess, but the other sisters took her to the infirmary...”

The Princess sputtered, “A coup! But, well done... Bragg...” Vig broke in, “Mistress, we must leave! I’ll bind the slave...” “Not yet, we’ll have need of his sword. What do you think, slave?” “Mistress, there must be many more soldiers. They may have taken the Lightening already. It may be best to flee North on the Trade Road. Or, risk all, speed to the ship...” “We risk all. Gather weapons. The mountain stairs, nun, take us there.” “Yes, Highness. It is passed the stables. We can release your other slaves, if they’ll fight like him!” “Good. I owe you much. It will not be safe for you to remain. What are you called?” “Gordia, my Lady.” “Good, then, Gordia, you are in my service.” They all fled from the Nunnery, to the stables.

There the others were released and given swords. “We leave everything else here. Gordia, remove your nunish robes. You can wear one of the bearer’s cloaks for now. One of you guards, give her your slave driving belt to cinch it.” Gordia dropped her robe quickly, showing her slim form, young and pert breasts, and donned the cloth she had taken from the big slave—Bragg—before all the excitement had begun.

Quickly they were descending the “Stair to Heaven” and running through the predawn streets toward the ship. No one was about. Then they hid in shadows as a squad of soldiers quick marched passed. Scar and a few others from the ship were there, bound and being led away. Without a word, Bragg was onto them, sword flashing. Vig stepped right next to him, and four soldiers lay bloodying the ground. Four more swords, the freed Overseer and his drivers, swelled the rattail party, as they ran to the Lightening.

Vig, Brag and Scar crept aboard, found three soldiers on guard and silenced them, but left them bound, gagged and alive. The Princess and the rest boarded. Everything aboard was in order, one watch of oarsman chained in place and dozing at the oars. The other watch strapped into their hammocks. Ropes were cast off and Scar, without drum, had the oarsmen silently row from the harbor, passing several galleons at dock, and onto the open sea. Then the drumming began and Bragg could hear the cracking of the drivers’ belts as the oarsmen bent to their task and the ship lurched forward, speeding from danger.

The Princess’s sole command was “To the Capitol!” Then she turned her attention to the men surrounding him. “Vig, have the slaves carry those soldiers to the caged deck. Bind them all. I will join you to mete out rewards and punishments. Gordia, follow me.” The Princess left.

While the guards collected their swords, Bragg and the other galley slaves carried the soldiers to the caged deck. There all were secured to the manacles and awaited the Princess in silence.

Donna Alexandra and Gordia, now wearing one of the Princess’s white tunics, reviewed what the nun had overheard. The Princess decided that the Lightening would speed to the Capital (it would take two days) and there, a small boat would put ashore to reconnoiter. “Now, my former nun, what shall we do with you?” “Mistress, at the Nunnery we probationary nuns served the Silent Sisters and saw to their needs. I have been trained in the Lesser Arts of the Magdalene. Perhaps I could be like a chaplain aboard, to bring solace to the galley slaves and guards... How will you reward the slave who rescued you?” “Not with freedom; galley slaves must never hope for freedom; you, however, I would give higher rank than a post aboard, but perhaps you will find ways to reward that galley slave...” “My Lady, I heard you call him ‘Bragg’—is that his name?” “Galley slaves have no names. You may call him and use him as you wish. Then your reward is to have the run of the ship, and to bring solace to the slaves. You will work with the oar boys, but not disturb Scar’s work. Tend their bruises after, but do not interfere with the slaves as they are being driven at the oars. You have that driver’s belt. Scar will show you how to use it. The slaves may see you as an angel of mercy, but they must obey you as they do me. You are my personal representative aboard this vessel. Let us go to the caged deck...”

-9-

The Princess strode onto the deck followed by Gordia. She called down to Scar who came quickly. She stood before them all: “Hear now my decrees, as Mistress of the Lightening. First, Scar, strip these soldiers and gear them as galley slaves. I will question them later, and they will remain here as galley slaves.

“Second. Gordia is appointed ship’s chaplain. Scar, teach her the use of the belt. Her task, though, is to bring solace to the slaves, without disrupting their labors, and to instill them with the strong desire to Work, Obedience and Silence. She will oversee the oar boys and care for the slaves, leaving you to concentrate on driving them. Third, you ship guards have failed me. After the Capitol, when we return to the Fort, you will be sentenced to six months hard labor on the Farm. Last, you galley slaves. This is your reward. I create a new rank for galley slaves, to be known as First Oars. Scar, bring me some hot coals and tongs. I will brand them with my Signet Ring as a sign of their Rank.”

Scar ran off, and the Mistress continued, “When I need bearers, only First Oars will be chosen. They will always exhibit at Fests. When the galley slaves are fed, these are to have the ladle filled to the brim, not to the ration line.” Scar returned, “And, when they row, they must row best of all, but Scar, you are to beat them somewhat less; you must drive them hard, but remember they saved you as well.” The Overseer nodded gravely.

The Princess removed her Ring, holding it with the tongs and heating it over the coals. First she turned to Bragg, stretched before her, from deck to cage. She burned the Ring mark above the slave’s right breast, holding it there while it sizzled. The big slave made no sound. Then the Princess turned to the other slaves, branding them. The young one Gordia had enjoyed gasped a bit, but otherwise all were silent. “Scar, clean and return these slaves to their places. But, take a sword and mount it below the bench where the large slave rows, so that he can have it in need. Attach, but do not latch his chains.”

Then she turned back to Bragg, “You have done well. You will work the oars without cease, and be the best galley slave, but always be ready to come with sword when I have need.” Then she reached around the massive slave, hugging him. She turned away. “Scar, to work. Gordia, Vig, Sam, follow me.”