Innocent (6 page)

‘They are slaves too?' Babalyn was demanding. ‘They were taken, in Cypraea?'

‘No,' Cianna answered, hesitantly, ‘that is… there was a shipwreck. On the northern coast.'

‘And you were taken! Are not these Makeans unspeakable? Helpless girls cast up on their coast, and what do they do? They take you as slaves! Never in Aprinia would be behave with such barbarism! It was the same with me, although we were not wrecked. I was on a ship of my father's, trading into Rojome, when we were becalmed. A Makean warship came up with us. We were outgunned, and could do nothing, for all their primitive cannonry. We were taken, all of us, and made slaves. Can you believe it?'

‘Very well,' Cianna answered, somewhat taken aback by the stream of words.

‘That was nearly a year ago,' Babalyn went on. ‘Come, let us fetch our portions, the meal is served. Since I was taken I have changed hands nine times! Nine! The last was some old fool who thinks himself a philosopher, and had come out to the mountains for the air. Always he said that I spoke too much, and then, when he was in conversation with some other ancient, equally foolish, and I pointed out the idiocy of some cherished theorem, he sold me, for twenty standard! Two weeks I have been here, two weeks! Still I am unsold.'

‘Why?' Cianna asked, following Babalyn towards where a couple of older women were handing out folded pieces of a flat, pale bread from a great basket. ‘You are beautiful. Is this not what men want in Makea?'

‘They prefer the little Vendjomois girls,' Babalyn answered, ‘who think it a privilege to serve. See how they chatter and simper together. They are little better than nymphs!'

Babalyn had pointed to a group of brown skinned girls, small but curvaceous, naked, and apparently quite happy with their condition. Some munched on bread, others patiently waited their turn, chattering together in high pitched voices. Cianna pushed into the crowd of girls behind Babalyn, who reached out and plucked a handful from the basket. Cianna took the offering, looking at it dubiously.

‘Apatta,' Babalyn explained, ‘spiced vegetables cooked in ghee and rolled in bread. It is filling, if hardly refined. At least as a slave you may be assured of adequate food. Too skinny and our price drops.'

‘How are we sold?' Cianna queried. ‘The clerk said the buyers come to the balcony.'

‘They do,' Babalyn answered, pointing. ‘There are couches up there, see, where they may sit and be served wine. You can be called up, tested…'

‘Tested?' Cianna queried, seating herself at a bench.

‘You know,' Babalyn went on, ‘made to serve, to suck their cocks, whatever amuses them.'

‘And we must do as we are told?'

‘Naturally, unless you wish to be punished. I have already missed a day's food for refusing to allow myself to be sodomised by some great oaf. His cock would have looked too large on a donkey! He would have split me, but my explanation found no favours. The next time I am on dung duty, collecting the nightsoil pails and spreading the dirt out on the drying pans, and making the patties also. It must be a filthy job.'

‘They collect our dung? What do you do with it? Put it on the fields?'

‘No. It goes to make powder.'

‘Powder!? As high-born ladies use to dry their bodies?'

‘No, silly! Gunpowder, for their cannon!'

‘Cannon?'

‘Cannon. Like large rifles. Bombards, I think Aisla called them.'

‘Bombards, yes, which hurl great balls of iron by magic.'

Babalyn burst out laughing, slapping her thigh.

‘What is funny?' Cianna demanded.

‘Nothing, I am sorry,' Babalyn answered. ‘It is not magic. The powder turns to gas when lit, creating an explosion. That is what propels the ball.'

‘Magic, as I said,' Cianna repeated. ‘So the powder, it is made from dung?'

‘No, well, not entirely,' Babalyn said. ‘In Blue Zoria, each week the dunny cart comes to collect our nightsoil, which is then taken to the mill. There it is prepared in some way to make nitre. The nitre is an ingredient for gunpowder.'

‘With what besides?'

‘How would I know? I am the daughter of the leading citizen of Blue Zoria, not an alchemist. No, I was. Now I am just one more Makean slave girl. Do you know, when I was free, I used to masturbate as I thought of how it would feel to be a slave, to have my body used as and when men wished? How foolish I was!'

‘ “So long as you are free in your mind you are free, no matter how many chains weigh you down,” ' Cianna recited. ‘This is what Sulitea says.'

‘Try telling that to the clerks here,' Babalyn responded.

‘I did not understand it either,' Cianna admitted.

‘A slave is a slave,' Babalyn said, ‘and I suspect you will prove no more popular than I, with that attitude. Even the Makean girls are more compliant. They are in demand, actually, especially those sold from once high families who have fallen into debt. Less so those sold by poor families to make ends meet, speaking of which, Yuilla is coming this way, with her friends. Do as she says and all will be well.'

Cianna looked to where four Makean girls were walking towards them, the one in front taller and more solidly built than the others, her black hair shaved close to her scalp, her mouth set in a confident, aggressive sneer.

‘Give me your bread,' Yuilla demanded.

‘Why?' Cianna asked.

‘Because I want it,' Yuilla answered, to the sound of laughter from her friends, ‘and also because if you do not I will push your head into my soil bucket and make you eat what is in it.'

‘Give it to her,' Babalyn said. ‘There will be more in the morning.'

Cianna lifted the bread to her mouth and tore off a bite. Immediately Babalyn took a step to the side, while Yuilla's eyes set in hard anger. Cianna chewed and swallowed her mouthful, then stood, finding herself looking down onto the top of Yuilla's head. Yuilla took a step back, looking into Cianna's face. Cianna barred her teeth, flicking her tongue over one sharpened fang. Yuilla hesitated, then stepped away, laughing and making a remark about not wishing to eat food Cianna had touched.

‘Wonderful!' Babalyn exclaimed. ‘She was terrified! What did you do?'

‘Nothing,' Cianna answered. ‘Only showed willing to fight.'

‘She would never risk anything other than an easy victory, or course. Still, be cautious of her. She was a wrestler, I am told, for one of the shows that travel the country. Barbarian louts!'

‘I too can wrestle. I have three brothers older than me. All used to use me to practise their holds and moves.'

‘Still, watch out. For one thing she will covet that necklace you wear. What are these things, ivory beads? And the mesh, some exotic alloy?'

Babalyn had reached out, turning one of the objects threaded onto Cianna's necklace in her hand.

‘They are teeth,' Cianna replied. ‘Here, to the left, are those of my maternal grandfather. To the right are those of my father's father, and…'

‘I do not wish to know!' Babalyn cut in, dropping the necklace. ‘How awful! Why wear such a ghastly thing?'

‘They hold a portion of the spirits of each man,' Cianna explained. ‘To hold them gives me courage, and wisdom also.'

Babalyn shuddered, only to look up as a peel of masculine laughter rang out from the gallery above them. Cianna looked up, to see a group of five young men leaning over the iron balustrade. They were richly dressed, in robes of brightly coloured silk, each with an elaborate golden bangle hanging from one ear. They were looking at her and Babalyn, and as she met their eyes one blew a kiss, causing a ripple of laughter among his comrades.

‘They come to buy us?' Cianna asked nervously.

‘No,' Babalyn answered. ‘They're just the sons of wealthy townsmen. Ikail tolerates them because they may one day be good customers.'

‘They come to see the naked girls?'

‘They see plenty of naked girls in the street. They come to get their cocks sucked. If they ask, do it, or you get a punishment.'

‘And if I still refuse?'

‘They will hold you down and fuck you, then complain to the clerks.'

‘I will suck, I suppose. They are high-born, it would seem, at the least.'

‘Certainly in their own eyes. Proud too, look up.'

Cianna did, finding to her surprise a thick black cock sticking out through the ironwork of the balustrade above her head, with the owner's face grinning down above. The others were also looking, and laughing as the expression on her face. Several other girls had noticed as well, the Vendjomois giggling, the Makeans giving sidelong glances and smiles, the Cypraeans casual.

‘See, she has never seen one so big!' the youth laughed.

‘Often enough,' Cianna answered, ‘on donkeys, and a troll once, too, but yours is uglier.'

The other youths burst into laughter, to the discomfort of the one showing his cock, who withdrew it, vanishing from sight.

‘Now you've had it!' Babalyn hissed. ‘He is sure to ask for you.'

Cianna shrugged.

‘I warn you, they have no compunction about how they use girls,' Babalyn went on, ‘and I wouldn't stand there if I were you, they have been known to piss on girls who answer their taunts.'

Moving quickly away from the balcony, Cianna looked up again, to find the youth who had taunted her talking to a clerk. The clerk nodded, looked round and beckoned to her, pointing to the door.

‘There we are,' Babalyn said. ‘I did say. You'd better go, the way you came in, and up the stairs. I hope you've had it up the bottom before.'

‘Up my bottom,' Cianna answered, in sudden shock. ‘They are sodomites, the Makeans?'

‘At every chance!' Babalyn answered. ‘Oh you poor thing! Here, stay still.'

Quickly Babalyn squeezed the remains of her Apatta over the palm of her hand, producing a trickle of thick, orange gee.

‘What are you doing?' Cianna demanded, glancing up to where the clerk had now come to the balustrade and was gesturing impatiently.

‘Turn around,' Babalyn ordered, ‘stick out your bum. I'm going to grease your ring.'

‘My ring? I…' Cianna stammered, but Babalyn had already taken her by the arm and was pulling her around.

She went, blushing as Babalyn's fingers sank into the cleft of her bottom, wiping the gee over her anus. The youths had seen, and where laughing and pointing, while there was a great deal of giggling among the girls. Cianna made to protest, then squeaked as Babalyn's finger pushed into her anus, probing.

‘Ow! That stings!' Cianna complained. ‘Ow!'

That's just the spice in the gee, and it stings a lot less than taking a cock without being properly greased,' Babalyn answered. ‘Now hurry, or you'll earn yourself a punishment too.'

Cianna hurried, scampering across the room, her face red with blushes, to the sound of girlish laughter. In the hallway the clerk merely pointed to a flight of stairs, which she ran up, finding herself on the balcony. Everybody seemed to be looking at her, naked girls, green robed clerks, the rich youths and two other clients, more elderly. One of the youths was talking to a clerk, and handing over coins, then turning to grin at Cianna.

‘Be fast when you are wanted,' the clerk snapped, then turned to the youth who had shown Cianna his cock. ‘I apologise, Elite, she is some sort of savage, and knew in this afternoon.'

The clerk took Cianna by the arm, pulling her towards the door of a room. She followed, allowing herself to be pushed inside. The youths followed, arranging them selves on couches upholstered in the same rich green as the clerk's uniforms. She stood uncertainly in the middle.

‘Come then,' the one she had insulted said. ‘If my cock is so ugly, let's see how it looks in your face. On your knees.'

He leant back as he spoke, splaying his legs as he lifted his robe, to expose his cock once more, the thick shaft lying against one thigh. Cianna hesitated, but got down, blushing furiously as she knelt in between his legs. She could smell his cock, urgent and male, with the fat head already half out of the thick prepuce. He took it, holding it out and beckoning her to come closer.

She obeyed, her mouth coming open, telling herself it was what Sulitea would have expected of her as she gulped in the thick, meaty penis. The youth chuckled as she started to suck, taking her firmly by the hair.

‘Stick your arse out,' he ordered. ‘Let them see the little hole your friend so kindly greased.'

Cianna obeyed, lifting her bottom to make a show of her sex and bottom hole. His cock was stiffening in her mouth, and from the corner of her eye she could see two of the others, both with their robes lifted, stroking at big, dark cocks in readiness for her body. Despite the shame in her head, she could feel herself coming on heat, and the loose, greasy feel where Babalyn had lubricated her anus.

She began to stroke the first man's balls, feeling the coarse hair and wrinkled skin. He was hard in her mouth, his scrotum tight, the big testicles moving sluggishly under her fingers. She sucked more firmly, hoping to make him come in her mouth and avoid having her anus invaded. He sighed happily, moving a little way down the couch.

‘Bitch on heat, just like the rest,' he said. ‘Do it then, Claides.'

It was all the warning Cianna got, and then something firm and fleshy had been pushed to her anus, even as the youth's grip tightened in her hair. Her eyes went round in shock as her greasy bumhole stretched wide, and then she was gasping on her mouthful, with a great, fat cock head wedged up her bumhole. She was panting immediately, trying to lift her head off the cock in her mouth as the man behind forced her passage, shoving inch after inch of hard shaft into her rectum to the tune of her muffled squeals and the laughter of the others. It went up, all of it, packed into her reluctant bottom until his thighs met the meat of her buttocks and his balls squashed out against her empty sex. The others burst into applause to see her properly sodomised, clapping and cheering their companion.