Sharvur and his attack force had been away for six days. Their mission for plunder had taken them to the Ural Mountains, where just beyond were the lowlands where Zaria and her Slavic peoples dwelt. But while returning with their caravan of supplies and a handful of new slaves, they were themselves ambushed from the south by a legendary people known as the Arimaspi. These fierce warriors who wandered as far as the Black Sea in their exploits took their name from Ariama (love) and Aspa (horses) in their native toungue. They were a formidable match for the Scythian peoples and just as deadly with bows and arrows, executed from horseback and while riding at full speed.
When Sharvur's men finally made it back into his kingdom on that sixth morning, the people of the tent city lined up on the horse trail to see the sad spectacle. Seventeen of his horsemen out of an assault continent of fifty-six Pazyryk warriors were being led at the rear of the procession—their bodies tied over the back of their horses. The people moaned and wept as many of them were relatives of the fallen warriors. Sharvur and his handful of generals, with Murka included, entered the palace dejected and disconsolate about their great losses. Worrying still, were the promises of the Slavic defenders, who after the initial attack, vowed to amass an army over the next year to retaliate back to the east and destroy Sharvur's empire once and for all.
The king called immediately for a small assembly in the great hall while still dressed in his bloodied combat leathers and with days of sweat and dust upon him. Meeting with his high command and the wise counselor Krido, Zaria was told by Sharvur to be present, as her perceived power to ward of such threats to the kingdom was believed and sanctioned by him with conviction. Seated at his side, she heard of the attack, the loss of life, the sad naming of the men individually. Three were fellow commanders of Murka, who fell on that forth day of their journey.
Krido suddenly stood and walked with his crooked staff up to the young slave girl, now held in honor as a princess in the palace.
"You, slave, who continue to make petty demands upon my king and are seen now as our charm against destruction. . . You must be careful to remember your conditions to remain alive here among us."
Zaria just stared up, unblinking at the old man, his white beard contrasting with his dark blue robe.
"Should you lay with Sharvur and share your body with him during his lustful moments of weakness. . . or any man in our land. . . our spell of protection will be broken! We will at that very moment be exposed to destruction. . . a warning which has killed our fine men!"
One of the commanders who seemed to be nursing a deep sword gash in his upper arm looked as though he might pass out. Fresh cold water was brought out for all the men. Those commanders along with Murka, fresh from the battlefield, drank it copiously and with great urgency. They all, however, listened to Krido's warnings to Zaria with great respect.
"The fate of our whole kingdom, young slave, rests with you! With you keeping pure that tempting flesh of yours!"
Zaria looked down at the tapestry rug with an unexpressed outrage. She remained silent while her blond, straight hair fell down on both sides of her face, helping to deflect her angst. As Sharvur and the other men looked at her with great scrutiny, she felt safely concealed within her old and new body art. The incomparable designs on her skin were hidden from them by a full length silk dress.
Sharvur told the men that the burial rites for the fallen warriors would begin immediately in the morning, but to express to all citizens the immanent danger the Pazyryk people would be in over the ensuing months and year. Such pledges and dire promises by mortal enemies in these times was to be taken seriously and all preparations would need to be made to heighten the kingdom's security. The king then, in a dejected posture, dismissed them all.
Before leaving Zaria, he made the demand that Branka be at his bedside for that night. Zaria knew what this would mean for her young and delicate friend, as it was Sharvur's lustful habit to take out his moods upon the flesh of others—something Zaria had seen and felt once herself. It was also something Branka had told her and Svetlana of in confidence and with shocking details.
* * *
That late evening, Svetlana was also called to be with her master, Murka, himself recovering from the devastation of the recent attack. When the voluptuous and now sensual girl went into his bedchamber eagerly to see him, she was shocked at his dejected and somber demeanor. For Murka and she had savored her visits over the past month. And though he had himself held out from having her completely yet, her curiosity and desire now requested it with eagerness.
Over time their sexual play and Murka's untiring patience in teaching her the maximum pleasures to be gained between a man and woman were now fulsome and becoming embarrassingly addictive to the young beauty. And throughout it all, Svetlana had found the strong and powerful warrior to be gentle and enticingly playful--especially with games that involved their erotic attraction to each other. By now these had evolved and were on the edge of the final act which he had promise her their last intensive night together.
This night, as Svetlana undressed in front of him and stood in the light of his uniquee collection of large vases as lamps, the young woman was sad to see he was unresponsive and remained disconsolate. This was despite her kissing his lips, neck, and then teasing him with her mouth further down, as he had taught her.
"I am afraid I will not be much pleasure to you this night, darling Svetlana," he told her sadly. "I have seen too much horror these days, and such images do not leave a man quickly."
She quietly cuddled up and lay beside him.
"I know we had planned to make my return a special occasion for you . . . and it had been in my thoughts the whole journey west. Once I even had a dream that you were with me in the mountains. We left the rest of the warriors to be together in the forest and have this moment I have prepared you for."
Svetlana smiled at him and gently caressed his bare chest as he spoke quietly of his feelings.
"That is alright," she assured him. "I am in no hurry for this. You have been careful showing me this path to pleasure. I do not care if it continues on some other night. I adore our time together. And I too have dreams of what we do on these nights."
With that, Murka put his hand against her face and smiled. "Tonight my greatest pleasure is just to hear your voice and see one of nature's most wonderful creations. I want you to sing softly to me this night, Svetlana. So I might forget the past. I can not stop the terrible sounds of death or hold back the vision which haunts me of my friends leaving this world is such a way."
"But Murka. . ." she said, propping herself up on one arm. You have not heard how badly I sing. My voice scares the horses. I can make no birds fly overhead while I sing."
This caused a much needed laugh to come from Murka's troubled soul.
"Well now I really want to hear you," he said, smiling broadly and kissing her cheek. For this is a song I have truly never heard."
Svetlana laughed, too, and for long into the night she sang the many children lyrics she had been taught while living in a world so far away. Despite her hoarse and breathy voice, the beguiling sound finally brought her great teacher of pleasure into the healing domain of sleep.
* * *
This same night, Branka reluctantly left her humble quarters and reported to Sharvur's bedchamber. As she had been warned, he was in a combative and cruel mood. Immediately she was told to undress and lay on the cold floor. Sharvur undressed himself and stood over her powerfully. In his hand he held his small horsewhip which Branka by now was familiar with. He reached down and slowly dragged the knotted ends of the leather strands over her breasts and up and down her naked thighs.
"Tonight, there are two commands you must follow. And if you do no not perform them to my pleasure and satisfaction I will give you this whip so severely that you will not sit for days to come! Do you understand that, slave?"
"Yes, my king," Branka replied, as she had been instructed to respond in the past.
"The first task . . . is for you to punish someone. A man who let his comrades die. He is a useless leader. And his cowardice and weakness led to a terrible disaster. . ."
This Sharver said almost in a trance, and Branka could see and hear that he was particularly disturbed on this night. As he dragged the whip tails over her face and tender breasts once more he told her to now stand and come to the bed. Surprisingly as she followed him there he turned and handed the leather tool of intimidation over to her.
"Take this whip, goddess!," he commanded, clearly transplanted somewhere else in his rage. "Now whip with all your strength this false king! Punish this man who is unworthy to lead his people!"
Sharvur leaned over his bed exposing his naked back to her.
"Punish me!" he ordered. "Use the whip with all your strength!"
Knowing full well Sharvur meant what he said, and that she would herself be punished if she did not comply, Branka wielded the whip above her head and brought it down with force against Sharvur's bare back with a loud 'cracking' sound.
"AGAIN, AGAIN! And HARDER, goddess! Punish this useless king!"
Once again Branka swung the whip against Sharvur's flesh, this time with several harder strokes, causing him to wince and cry out.
"ONCE MORE!" he commanded. And this Branka did, until she could see the red welts from the knotted strands had done their terrible work to cause pain. She had complied until her arm was tired and the king sank to his knees on the floor in agony. She dropped the whip and stood back from him, disgusted. Though she loathed Sharvur, and despised him for the pain and humiliation he had caused her, Branka could not find any pleasure in hurting him.
Slowly Sharvur brought himself back to his feet and began to recover from the long welts clearly visable criss-crossing his back.
"Now . . . Your first task is complete, goddess. For the second . . . go back to the floor and lay there." He reached under his pillow and produced the silk scarve he frequently used to blindfold and tie her with.
Branka returned to the exact place she had lay undressed for him. Still breathing hard from the pain, Sharvur reached down and roughly tied the scarf around her head obscuring her ability to see him. She sensed he was standing over her again, this time near her feet yet leaving her arms and legs free.
"Did it please you, to punish me, goddess?" he asked "Tell me it did!. Tell me you liked to see your useless king punished for his weakness!"
Branka knew she must play along with his game or be punished herself.
"Yes," she finally said, practically in a whisper. "It pleased me."
"Fine. Now show me how much it pleased you!" Sharvur commanded.
Branka was confused. She was not sure what the king was asking her to do.
Show me it pleased you goddess! I want to see you pleasure yourself. There . . on the floor, with your own hands. Please your body. . . while you think about your king in pain!"
Branka could not bring herself to do this. Yet, she knew at any moment if she continued to hesitate, she would soon feel the brutal sting of Sharvur's whip.
"I said PLEASURE YOURSELF, goddess!"
Suddenly, out of her own sense of protection, Branka began to visualize Mostok now—he was well and strong, and handsome as ever. She imagined during this terrible moment that it was he who was standing over her--watching her naked body moving suggestively, as if dancing. She was reminded of the alarming but erotic dream she had had about him.
Gradually, as she moved her hands over her breasts and hips in circular movements, she could imagine it was Mostok watching her there, breathing harder, and so near to her. The thought of her mentor taking pleasure watching her touch her body gave Branka the strength and desire to continue. She moved her finger tips over her smooth skin and pressed her thighs together creating heightened sensations. To the sound of Sharvur's breathing, both from his arousal and pain, Branka too enjoyed her own reverie of pleasure. And though it was envisioned under the most appalling condition of duress--there in the darkness, and only in her mind—the fantasy with Moshtok gave her a sensation which was complete and left her shuddering on the floor.
Branka returned to her own chamber that late evening once more relieved that she had not felt the rage of Sharvur's whip. She also went to sleep again thinking of this man whom just her fantasies of could cause her so much emotion and now a sanctuary from pain. As she would return to his home for the last days to ensure his healing, she wondered what their future lnaguage lessons might include.
* * *