Lost Love Found (41 page)

Valentina, however, was yet defiant, and she spat full in his face a mixture of her spittle and his blood. “Never!” she repeated hoarsely.

The woman ran to wipe Temur Khan’s face, and Valentina saw in her eyes a mixture of admiration and pity. The look quickly disappeared as she murmured sympathetically to her lord, her cloth gently wiping his face.

Temur Khan leaped furiously to his feet and shoved the woman aside. “Get out of my way, Esugen!” He yanked Valentina up by her hair, his hand wrapping the silken length about his fist. “You will pay for that insult, bitch! Oh, you will pay!” He dragged her outside the yurt.

She blinked, startled by the bright sunlight, for the yurt had been dim. Temur Khan pulled her along, struggling, to the center of the encampment to where two heavy posts had been driven into the ground. Hide manacles hung from the posts and Temur Khan forced her wrists through the loops, drawing them closed tightly, but not so tightly that the flow of blood was constricted.

“Now, bitch, you will learn what it is to defy me!” he growled. “Tatars! Bring your whips!”

She hung suspended between the two posts, the tips of her toes grazing the ground. At his command the woman, Esugen, ran from the yurt carrying a whip that she handed to Temur Khan with a bow. He fussed with the tip, then spoke to the men now gathered about him, each carrying his own whip.

“Ply the tips. I want her clothes removed, but I do not want her marked.”

Horrified, Valentina watched as the men about her began to flick their whips in her direction. Although the blows stung, they did not cause her any great pain. But slowly her clothing was shredded until it was no longer the lovely quilted red satin gown that Borte Khatun had given her. When nothing but fluttering rags of cloth clung to her body, Temur Khan ordered Esugen to strip them away, and she hurried to obey.

Her back to her master, the woman said softly to Valentina, “You are a very brave woman, but foolish. He will have his way in the end.”

Valentina shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “I will kill myself first.”

Esugen’s dark eyes filled with pity. “He will never give you the chance,” she said. “You will live until he decides that it is time for you to die.” She stepped back from Valentina. “She is naked now, my lord Temur.”

Temur Khan strode over to where Valentina hung. With careful eyes and hands, he examined her for the quarter-moon birthmark. Finally he nodded, satisfied. “So my mother spoke the truth. It is good, for I prefer taking you for a wife to killing you, and I would have killed you, had you proved to be the daughter of Javid Khan. Now, however, I intend punishing you for your insult to me. Esugen! Secure her legs!”

The woman knelt and fastened Valentina’s legs with the hide manacles so that she was now spread-eagled between the two posts. Temur Khan surveyed his victim, walking slowly around her. Valentina stiffened her spine as she heard the crack of the whip.

He knew precisely what he was doing, and he rained stinging blows on her back and buttocks, which soon burned with the repetition of the lash. She made no outcry. He moved to face her once more, and lifting his arm, he raised a pattern of thin red welts across her breasts and belly. She glared at him mutely. He nodded slowly, and then moved behind her once again. The whip cracked once more.

A half-dozen more cruelly painful blows found her, and Valentina writhed against the taut bonds. She had no idea how sensual her movements were to the watching men, some of whom licked their lips with longing.

Then, having made his point, Temur Khan ceased the torture. He addressed his men.

“She’s to hang here the rest of the day as punishment,” he said. “Her cunt, her ass, and her mouth are for my cock alone. Other than that, amuse yourselves with her, but remember, if she pleases me and if I can get her with child, I will take her to wife.” He walked back into his yurt, followed by Esugen.

Valentina didn’t know whether to weep with her pain or give in to her fright. All about here were Tatars, staring at her naked, helpless form. They were like wolves contemplating prey. Finally, a young man approached her and, smiling into her eyes, fondled one of her breasts. She watched his face, afraid to close her eyes for fear of what he might do next. Another grinning man joined him and grasped her other breast in his dirty hand. They cradled and squeezed the flesh, crushing it, rolling the nipples between thumb and forefinger, pinching them.

“What tits, Boal!” the first man said. “What absolutely magnificent tits!”

“Tits fit for a king, Guyuk,” agreed the other, nodding.

Guyuk bent his head and licked at the nipple with his tongue. His lips closed over the flesh and he sucked on it, hard. “Umm,” he murmured, finally raising his eyes to his grinning companion. “Her flesh is sweet, Boal. Try it!”

He returned to his pleasant pursuit while the other man slurped loudly at her other breast.

Silent tears rolled down Valentina’s face. There was absolutely nothing she could do to escape these men. I can bear it if I do not become frightened, she told herself. At least I am not being raped. Still, there was no escape from these men, and Padraic would never want her now that she had been so horribly soiled.

The two men at her breasts suckled greedily, their teeth scoring her sensitive skin. Suddenly she gasped and tried to arch away from hands that were grasping her buttocks. Cruel fingers dug into her soft skin, and a garlic-laden breath assaulted her nose as a voice whispered the most dreadful obscenities in her ear. Her Turkish was not perfect, but she understood the man all too well. Other men were approaching her now, fumbling with their breeches, releasing their swollen male organs and rubbing them against her hungrily.

“Allah, I’d like to fuck her,” one man moaned.

“No woman is worth getting yourself killed over,” replied an older, wiser man as he pressed himself against Valentina’s hip.

“He can’t kill us all, Juchi.”

Juchi laughed. “Yes, he can. And the death you would suffer for a moment’s passion would be terrible. Better you put your cock into one of our camp whores, Kusala. That way, you’ll live to see tomorrow.”

Valentina moaned with the horror of what was happening to her, struggling to keep hold of her sanity. They misunderstood. Grinning at each other, they began to mock her.

“Hey, she
likes all
this nice attention we’re giving her, eh, bitch?”

“Nooo!” she whimpered.

They laughed, and one cried out, “That pretty pink cunt of hers must want some nice attention, too. I know just how to soothe it!” Kneeling, the Tatar parted Valentina’s nether lips and, peeling the delicate pink flesh aside, began to tongue her with his large, wet tongue.

Valentina opened her mouth and screamed. The muscles in her straining throat bulged, but there was no sound. Between her outspread legs the man slurped and sighed, commenting lewdly to his friends, “She’s just like wild honey.”

“Don’t be greedy, Urus!”

Urus was dragged aside, and his place taken by another Tatar, whose mouth feasted at Valentina’s flesh.

She could no longer quite comprehend the depravity that was happening to her. Her body felt suddenly icy cold in the hot sun and her eyes rolled back in their sockets as her head fell forward onto her chest.

It was several minutes before her captors realized that she had fainted. Disappointed that their victim was no longer able to enjoy their attentions, they ceased their fun and wandered away.

She hung there, unconscious, until Esugen came and forced water between her lips. Valentina pretended she was still unconscious for she feared that, if she gave any sign of life, the men would come at her again. She knew she could not bear them any longer. Her fair skin ached from the whip and was burned red from the spring sun. There were bruises all over her body, and her nipples were hurt and bloodied with teeth marks.

“Your breathing gives you away, foreign woman. Take the water. No one is around to see,” Esugen murmured sympathetically.

Valentina swallowed the brackish water eagerly as it slid down her parched throat.

“Not too much at first,” Esugen warned, pulling the waterskin away from Valentina’s mouth.

“Who … are you?” Valentina gasped.

“I am the unfortunate slave to Temur Khan,” Esugen replied. “Had I been fortunate enough to give him children, I might have been his wife. Now that opportunity will be yours. I pray for your sake that you will give him the sons he desires, else you will end up like me. Life on the steppes is hard for everyone who lives here, but hardest for slaves.” Fearing to rouse suspicion with an overlong stay, Esugen returned to the yurt.

Valentina slipped into a semiconscious state for a time, only to be brought back to reality by Temur Khan. As the afternoon waned, he came from his yurt and stood gazing at her. His fingers grasped her hair from behind and cruelly brought her to consciousness. Valentina opened her eyes to find herself staring into Temur Khan’s face.

“Eyes like jewels,” he commented softly. “You have a face and form fit for a sultan’s seraglio, bitch. I could get a fortune for you in the slave markets of Kaffa, and twice as much if I made the trip to Istanbul. Instead, it pleases me to keep you for myself.” He fumbled with his clothing, drawing forth his rampant maleness, which he proceeded to rub against her slit. “You have, I think, learned your lesson, my beautiful panther cat. Imagine what it would have been like, had I allowed my men to have you completely. Every orifice of your body would have been stuffed full of their lust.

“Shortly I will have Esugen release you. You will be bathed, then you will yield yourself to me. I will be your master, bitch. I will pour my seed into your womb, and there it will take root. You will give me sons, and I will be immortal—as the dead Javid Khan can never be!” His hand caressed her hair almost gently now. “Strong sons,” he murmured. “You will give me strong sons!” A half-mad light glittered in his eyes.

“Never!” Her hatred leaped forth and nearly scalded him. Temur Khan stepped back involuntarily.

He laughed. “Good! you are not beaten down, nor do I want you to be. Once you have accepted me as your master, once you have given me my sons, I will make you a queen. I will lay the world at your feet.” Then without another word, he turned and walked away.

Her whole body was one huge ache, though her arms and legs felt numb from their hide constraints. The sun had sunken considerably from its midday zenith and no longer scorched her fair skin. The camp had quieted, for the Tatars were all inside their yurts. Suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth from behind her and a rag was stuffed between her startled lips. Hands were pulling the twin moons of her bottom apart and she felt a thick, hard spear of flesh roughly probing her.

“I’m going to fuck your pretty ass, woman,” growled her unknown assailant. “There’s no one to see us, and I’ve made certain you can’t—uhhh!”

As unexpectedly as he had been there, her assailant was gone, his attempted violation stopped as quickly as it had begun. The rag was pulled from her mouth, and Valentina gratefully gulped the clean air as a rough voice grated in her ear.

“Say nothing, lady. Your deliverance is at hand!”

Then she was alone again. As her terrible fear eased, she began to make out shadowy shapes dashing among the yurts. Night had fallen and the myriad stars gave off a little light, so that she could see quite well.

All of a sudden, a large party of horsemen made their way into the main clearing of the camp. Her heart hammered wildly.

“Temur Khan! Come forth and face your judgment!” bellowed the Great Khan to his elder brother.

For a moment there was silence, then the doors of all of the yurts were flung open and men burst forth, weapons in hand, screaming terrifying battle cries. A shout, sounding to Valentina like a shout of great joy, went up from the mounted men. Spurring their ponies forward, they attacked Temur Khan’s men with great vigor. Soon it was difficult to make out anything but a roiling, rumbling mass of battle.

The women and children watched from the doors of the yurts. From her place between the two posts Valentina watched, wincing at the clang of sword meeting shield, as the smell of sweat and blood and fear began to permeate the camp. Horses screamed as they were injured, but the horsemen clearly had the advantage. They pressed their animals forward, slowly but inexorably driving their enemies into the center of the clearing, almost directly in front of Valentina.

A moment later, the men having been conquered, the women and children were driven from their yurts by the Great Khan’s foot soldiers. The woman were keening eerily. Their men were beaten and their half-fear turned to total fear. They were all outcasts, renegades from their own people for one reason or another, and the Great Khan was bound to show them no mercy.

Clutching their children to them, the women sobbed all the louder as, before their eyes, their men were methodically killed until only one man remained standing. It was Temur Khan, beaten to his knees, but still defiant.

“Kill me with your own hand, if you dare, my brother,” he challenged Devlet Khan.

“Would that I could, Temur, but that honor belongs to another,” the Great Khan told him.

A horseman emerged from the shadows. His features were shrouded. Slowly he made his way across the camp, the Great Khan’s ranks parting to allow him forward. At last he towered over Temur Khan, a long spear in his hand.

“Am I to die at the hand of a faceless coward?” snarled Temur Kahn. “Surely I may see the face of my executioner.”

The warrior lifted a hand. Loosening the fabric shrouding his face, he revealed his visage to the condemned man. Valentina could not see his features.

Temur Khan emitted a strangled cry, and his eyes
widened in
shock. “
You!
” he hissed. “
It cannot be! It cannot!
”

Without a word the horseman raised his spear and drove it downward into Temur Khan’s chest.

“No! Not you!
Not you!
” Temur Khan whispered, and then he tumbled backward, dead, his hands gripping at the spear in a futile attempt to remove it.