Slave of Amazons

Getting captured sucks. It tends to involve things like pissing yourself in terror, while terrifying Amazons hold their spears deathly still at your Adam’s apple, leaving you too afraid to so much as swallow.

Getting taken prisoner sucks. It involves endless manacled marching and cruel whipping whenever you stumble or falter.

Being sold into slavery sucks. It involves standing naked under the hot sun, as Amazons mutter and joke to each other about you, while your throat dries out and a thin layer of dust cakes you.

The start of being a slave wasn’t so bad.

The dust of the markets was washed off. The welts that my whippings had left were poulticed. I was anointed with fragrant oils and clad in simple robes. I couldn’t help but be nervous though, because the men who bathed me flinched at every loud noise and kept their eyes resolutely downcast.

Starts can be deceiving.

After I was bathed, I was branded.

The other slaves led me firmly to another room. It was bare stone and smelt of sweat and pain. The only accoutrements were a fireplace and a set of stocks. I didn’t like the look of this, but there were three of them and only one of me. I was forced to kneel in front of the stocks, then forced into them. I struggled against them, but the wood was as unyielding as the slaves.

The slaves stoked the fireplace, or at least I think they did. It was behind me, and so hidden from my vision. But I felt heat on my back. They removed my robe as they left. I noticed that their backs – left bare by the loincloths that were all the clothing they had on – all bore brands.

I broke out in a cold sweat.

The woman who had bought me entered the room. She was fierce and scarred and wore no more than the slaves. Like all Amazons, there was a mass of scar tissue where her left breast had been. A golden torc encircled each of her biceps and both her ears were pieced with iron studs.

I resolved to bear my pain manfully. Surely if she could survive her breast being removed, I could withstand the branding without screaming.

It was a nice thought.

She circled me a few times, remaining silent. I had never heard her speak. Her slaves had haggled for my price, while she looked on impassively.

“Breaking you will be enjoyable.”

Her voice was deep and gravely. It set me to mind of the low rumble of chariots on hard packed earth. It was the voice of a woman with violence in her very bones.

Defiance seemed clever at the time. I fired back the first half-baked insult that came to my head.

“Almost as much fun as breaking your hymen will no doubt be.”

She didn’t argue, didn’t bluster, she simply smirked. That was a lot scarier than the alternative.

She turned slightly and I saw what I’d missed before. There was a brand and a cane in her left hand.

“Breaking you will definitely be enjoyable.”

She walked behind me. I heard a muffled clink, what must have been her putting the brand in the fire. My courage fled.

“Look, surely there’s a misunderstanding. I’m important, you could ransom me!”

“You offer me money, but what use is that compared to pleasure? Money can buy pleasure, certainly. But you ask me to trade pleasure I will have now with pleasure I might have in the future. This does not seem sound.”

“For what you get for me you could buy a dozen like me!”

“Perhaps. But if you’re worth so much, they’ll still want you even if I break you. And if you’re lying, at least I’ll have had the pleasure of breaking you.”

“Please! Don’t do this!”

My voice was cracking. I was terrified.

I felt her hand on my ass. She stroked it gently.

“Perhaps it isn’t necessary. Tell me you want to be my slave. Make me believe you want to serve me. Then I might decide that you don’t need to be branded.”

I didn’t have it in me. I was terrified, but I couldn’t beg. Not like that. Not yet.

“No? Then I guess you’ve just been wasting my time. You’ll soon learn that there is a severe punishment for that.”

There was no warning of the blow across my ass, just the sudden blossoming of pain.