The beautiful young woman carefully kept to the deepest shadows in her
village's back alleys and deserted pathways. The midsummer night's air was
cool on her flushed cheek. Under her woolen dress she could feel her body's
growing excitement. She crouched in some bushes and waited for two torch
carrying men to pass, then crossed the village's main east-west street. The
flickering lights of the torches behind her, she slipped into the total
darkness of a large grain storage warehouse.
"Hello?" She said softly, wondering if she would find him here, where three
of the others had.
She was standing just inside the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the
darkness. Suddenly, it got a lot darker as a heavy wool horse blanket was
dropped over her head. Before she could think, before she could toss the
stinking thing aside, she felt a noose cinch down tight around both the
blanket and her throat. The girl, whose name was Tasha, fought the blanket
with all of her strength, it blinded her, it muffled those small squeaks of
terror that escaped the tight noose, worst of all, it prevented her from
defending herself from her attacker.
When she felt the heavy blanket being re-enforced with wraps of rope, holding
her arms down to her sides, she twisted around and drove her knee up into her
attacker's groin. The knee struck soundly, driving out an explosive, foreign
sounding curse. Tasha froze, she knew that voice!
Enraged by his pain, the man jerked the noose even tighter, cutting off
Tasha's air completely. She began to see stars floating before her eyes
under the complete darkness of the blanket. She felt her wrists being jerked
behind her back and bound. She felt consciousness slipping away, becoming a
distant, receding light in her mind's eye. She felt her knees buckling, her
body falling . . . falling . . . falling.
When she awoke, she found herself tightly wrapped in the stinking blanket.
Her arms were now bound together at wrists and elbows so that they had become
one useless limb running down the center of her back. Her legs had been
crossed and bound at ankles and knees, then folded and tied to her wrists.
where they came out from under the blanket. Worst of all, was the gag. A
thick wooden stick had been forced into her blanket covered mouth and tied so
tightly that she thought that the corners of her mouth might be torn. The
rough, evil tasting wool of the stinking horse blanket within her mouth could
not be borne, yet she was helpless to rid herself of it's discomfort. She
tried to struggle, and found herself as helpless as a landed fish.
She felt as if she were lying upon a hillside, then felt a lurch and heard
the creaking of a wheel and thus knew that she had been loaded upon a wheel
barrow and was being carried somewhere. She tried to roll off of the barrow
but discovered that there were ropes lashed over her to keep her in place.
Her attacker chuckled in an evil way then spoke. "You no go. I fix. Fix
good." He said, continuing on his way out of the village.
Tasha froze in her struggles against her bonds. She knew that voice! By
speaking to her the man was telling her that she would not survive to tell
who had taken her captive. Worse, his heavily accented pigeon Russian
revealed him to be the man the Jews called Black Golem, one of the two
Byzantine men of Christ that the Tsar had sent down to convert the pagans and
Jews of her village. She remembered that his name was Brother Kostos and he
was Father Cassini's man servant and bodyguard.
Tasha began to fight her bonds in panic, making herself look even more like a
Soon, her lack of fresh air defeated her, leaving her gasping and sobbing
within her woolen prison. As the tiny pinpoints of light again floated
before her eyes. She thought about how all the other girls had said that
they'd had no clue as to who their attacker had been. Had they all lied, or
was she just the first unlucky enough to discover his identity?
The wheel barrow creaked through the night air, it's cargo of helpless female
being borne further and further from help. Tasha tried to scream, tried to
call out. The thick blanket wrapped gag bar stopped her cries like a cork
stops a bottle.
For over an hour the wheel barrow bumped away from the quiet village.
Finally satisfied, the monk put down the handles and put a hand on Tasha's
blanket covered rump. "You like make fuck?" He said, untying the ropes that
were holding her down to the rough boards of the barrow.
Tasha, still hogtied and totally helpless, tried to roll away, her protests
weak from exhaustion.
"Is good, I muchly like make fuck. Make good fuck. You see, we make good
fuck. I fuck you all night, maybe fuck you more tomorrow, we see." As the
big man was speaking, his hands were busy, untying the link between her
wrists and ankles. When this was done, he hoisted her up to balance on her
crossed feet, then steadied her while he unwrapped the rope that tied the
blanket down around her sweating body until only the original noose remained,
then tossed it up over a tree limb above her head. When this rope was tight
around her neck, forcing her up on her tiptoes just to breathe, he began to
strip her woolen dress from her, using his razor sharp knife to cut the
fabric so that he would not have to free her arms.
Once his prize was stripped bare, he took a rough inventory of her naked
body. "Good tits, good ass, good body." He said as his hands ran over her
helplessness. She tried to fight him off with her bound hands but found that
she could not. To struggle was to fall. To fall would be to hang.
When his hands left her she was panting with fear and, worse yet, passion.
Even through the blanket, she could smell her own passion scent, wafting up
from her swelling labia. She shuddered to think how it would further inflame
the Golem's lust.
Brother Kostos seemed to either not notice, or not care. He was busy tying
the four corners of the hanging blanket up to the tethering rope above
Tasha's head so that she began to look like a Greek statue whose head had
been replaced with a giant onion.
Tasha felt the cool night breeze flowing over her sweaty body. Between her
tightly bound thighs, she could feel her helpless vaginal wetness flowing
down. She tried to pretend that it was only sweat, but she knew better.
Anyone with a functioning nose would have known better. Her passion scent
filled the copse now like a heavy incense, informing them both of her body's
readiness to receive him.
Black Golem unbuckled his sword belt and propped his weapon against the trunk
of the tree under which Tasha was tethered. Stripping off his ankle length
cassock, the big Greek tossed it over a branch and turned to look at the
waiting captive. He saw that she was blind and helpless, just the way he
liked his women. He saw that she could do nothing save await his pleasure.
In the tree shaded moonlight, her naked body looked like alabaster come to
life. At the juncture of her tapering thighs, her bright red pubic hair
looked almost transparent in the colorless light.
Tasha struggled to maintain her balance, waiting for the touch of his hands.
Bending down close, the big Greek plucked several of her short red curls and
held them in the palm of his hand, examining them in the weak light. In the
darkness of the warehouse he'd not known of her hair color. Red hair was not
common among the Jews of Russia, but in a country ruled for six hundred years
by Vikings it was not unknown either.
He realized that this girl must be the Jewess known as Tasha, daughter of the
"Mayor of the Jews", old Jacob Gross. He'd had to deal with her father many
times. He smiled to think of the man's angry reaction to the disappearance
of his only daughter.
Walking slowly around his captive, Black Golem appraised her with a
professional's eye. The girl was a prize of great value. Perhaps the most
perfect female body he'd ever seen. Small, delicate feet that belied her
peasant girl background. Tapering legs that topped out in a pair of high,
round ass cheeks that seemed to dance as she struggled to maintain her
balance under the compulsion of the tethering noose. Her tiny, wasp like
waist made her wide hips and big breasts look even larger, more seductive in
the dappled moonlight. He remembered her face, having seen it in the market.
He remembered how he'd secretly dreamed of covering those high cheek bones
with passionate kisses, of feeling those full, pouting lips on his, of
looking into those green eyes as their owner fell into helpless orgasm.
It would be a shame to have to kill this one after only one night's pleasure,
but he could see no alternative. The girl had discovered his identity. Too
bad for her. If she were to survive, it could very well cost him his life.
The traditional punishment for rape in these parts was tar and feathers. In
cases where the rapes had been especially brutal, such as the way he had
treated his many victims, death would be both sure and painfully drawn out.
In the past few months he had caught and raped almost two score of the
village's Jewish girls, leaving each with the dawn, still tied helplessly
into the blanket hoodwink that had become his trademark.
He considered for a moment keeping this one somewhere safe, somewhere that
no-one could find her, somewhere that he could visit and fully enjoy her
perfect body until a merchant's caravan came through on it's way south to the
slave markets of Byzantium. But he'd quickly abandoned this thought because
it was just too dangerous. The problem was that there was just no place safe
enough. As much as he regretted the waste, he would have to kill his captive
in the morning. To do anything else was risking discovery and death.
That decision made, he resolved to wring as much pleasure out of the girl as
possible in the time remaining to him. He reached out and touched the girl's
high conical breasts, feeling how achingly erect her nipples had become.
Tasha gasped within her woolen prison. His touch to her nipples was
skillful, it seemed to ignite her passion like the touch of a candle's flame
ignites a bonfire. His hands were insistent but gentle, intrusive and
knowledgeable. His fondling was enraging her but also inciting her lust like
nothing had ever done before.
Tasha felt her helpless body responding to his caressing hands like a bitch
in heat responds to the first sniff of her cur suitor. Soon, she knew, she
would be crying out in helpless passion, unable to remain silent, unable to
conceal her growing state of sexual heat from her rapist. It seemed as if
her entire being were becoming one of need. She felt as if she were being
taken to the gates of Heaven, or perhaps Hell. She did not know, or care
Suddenly, his fingers were gone from her throbbing loins, her aching nipples.
Tasha stood, fighting for balance, her bound body twisting in her desperate
attempts at remaining upright.
Crying out behind the tight gagging bar, she waited for him to return.
Straining her senses, she tried to discover where he had gone. The double
thickness of heavy wool blanket robbed her of so much, her sight, her voice,
even most of her hearing. Otherwise, she would have known what the Golem
knew. The quiet copse in which they stood had suddenly gone entirely silent.
Gone were the quiet rustlings of the small animals, the night songs of the
insects and birds.
In the shadowed light of the moon, figures began to emerge from the woods
around them. Tasha felt a blow to her back as Black Colem spun away to get
to his sword belt. While she was fighting for her lost balance, he was
taking up position before her.
The shadows became men. Men armed with heavy wooden staffs, pitch forks,
clubs and wicked looking long knives.
The naked monk retreated until his back was protected by the silently
struggling girl. Then he shouted in rage and fear. "Away go! I kill!"
Held out in front of him like a talisman was his big sword. In his other
hand was his razor sharp dagger. The figures moved respectfully back, but
did not break their circle.
"Brother Kostos?" Asked the tallest of the shadows, becoming as he spoke,
Father Cassini. "It's been you?"
"Is that you Father?" Asked the monk, switching to their native Greek. "Who
is that with you?"
"It is a posse of the village Jews, I'm afraid." The priest said, lowering
his sword point to the ground. "We have come out tonight to catch the
rapist, I never dreamed it would be you."
This exchange being in Greek, the assembled villagers had no idea what it was
about. Never-the-less, they began to close in, their weapons held high.
Completely encircled, outnumbered fifty to one, Brother Kostos quickly moved
to stand behind his tethered captive. Bringing his dagger point up to prick
the underside of Tasha's left breast, he said, again in his pidgin Russian.
"Away go! I KILL!"
The Jews muttered and withdrew a few steps, but not as far as before.
Switching back to Greek, the monk said. "Tell them Father. I'll kill the
girl unless they let me go."
Father Cassini, finding himself in a very dangerous position, translated. He
had only come out tonight because he had wanted to prove to the Jews that he
and his Christian flock were innocent of their charges. They had accused him
of sheltering the man responsible for the series of rapes in the Jewish
quarter. While it was true that Father Cassini had never once used his
position to decry the rapes, he'd still felt that their accusations were
unfair. It had been his theory that the rapist was a Jew, or at the very
least, a pagan. Not one of his flock. Therefore, he'd agreed (Against his
better judgment) to come out this night as a member of their posse.
For their part, the Jews had wanted him because it had been felt that his
testimony might help forestall any retribution that might arise if the Jews
were to catch and punish a Christian.
Like most western Russian villages of the time, theirs was one split into two
distinct camps. The Slavic on one side, the Semitic on the other. There was
little love lost between these two groups. From the time before the first
Christian missionaries had come north, the native Slavs had distrusted the
Jews. Being driven out of the Roman Empire by the Diaspora, the Semitic Jews
had brought new, more profitable skills and techniques with them. Despite
the fact that most had arrived as slaves, within two generations they had
become much wealthier than the Slavs around them.
Then had come the Christian missionaries. Seeing the racial distrust and
economic envy as an opening, the followers of Christ had exploited it,
preaching that God himself saw the Jew as his enemy.
Then word had come that the Tsar in Kiev had become a Christian. His first
act, after his baptism, had been to decree Christianity as the only
authorized religion in Russia.
The Tsar had considered carefully which of the worlds great religions to
adopt. Islam he'd rejected because he was an alcoholic. The last thing he'd
wanted was a religion that outlawed drinking. The austere Jews, with their
endless dietary laws and strict moral codes didn't attract him much either.
But when he'd traveled to Constantinople and seen the great cathedral there
he'd been sold. Between the pomp and pageantry on one hand and the doctrine
of death bed salvation for life-long sinners on the other, he'd decided that
this was the religion for him. Nowhere, in any history is it said that the
Tsar ever considered allowing his subjects the same luxury of choosing their
own religion. Overnight, Russia had become a Christian land.
When the Jews had, as was their habit, ignored the order to convert, he'd
seen it as an insult to his sovereignty. He'd countered by sending out
"missionaries", men recruited from the ranks of the Crusaders. "Christian"
knights and men at arms who'd been murdering and raping their way across the
Holy Land in the name of Christ. These men had organized the Slavs into
murderous mobs who'd descended upon the hapless Jews like locus, stealing,
murdering, raping, desecratinq. Then, when the rioting Slavs had counted
their loot, they'd found out just how rich the Jews had become. From then
on, pogroms had been spontaneous events, needing little in the way of
At first, the Jews had tried to fight back, to protect their homes and loved
ones. But when they saw that the rioters were willing to kill ten Jews for
every "Christian" that died, they'd begun to resist in more passive ways. As
the besieged Jews bad begun to learn how to better conceal their true wealth,
the pogroms had begun to slacken off. The prospect of loot had always been a
major part of the incentive. Once the motive of profit was gone, the average
Slav had found his religious zealotry strangely modified.
For the last twenty years or so, the pogroms had become almost perfunctory.
Only at Easter, would the Christian mob come to punish the Jews. The
violence was still deadly, but with only the old and infirm being killed for
being too slow or stubborn to run away.
Then, this spring, the Jewish girls had begun to be kidnaped and raped. One
by one, the rapist had taken the flower of the Jewish quarter's young women
out of the village tied as Tasha had been, helpless to either struggle or
see. The next day, the girls would be found, staggering blindly across the
empty steppe, their hands still bound behind their backs, their heads still
tied into the blankets. Until Tasha, not one of the girls had been able to
identify her attacker.
Pogroms were one thing, but having someone systematically hunting down and
raping their daughters and brides was another. The Jews had set a trap.
Posting watchers at every path out of the village, they'd waited for the
rapist to strike again. Then, when one of the watchers had spotted someone
carrying a blanket wrapped girl out onto the open steppe he'd followed,
marking his location and then going back for the possy to capture the monster.
Now, as Father Cassini faced his own servant in the moonlight, his mind was
racing. He was trying to find a way out of the fix in which he found
himself. As angry as the assembled Jews were, he dared not try to help his
servant. Tf he were to attempt that, he could very likely end up sharing the
big man's fate. On the other hand, the big Greek was his friend. The two of
them had come up from the south together, to spread the gospel and,
hopefully, to amass their fortunes. The big man had saved his life in battle
several times, he owed him something for that, didn't he?
The tall priest looked around the circle of angry Jews and came to a
decision. He sheathed his sword and said in Greek. "Be patient, my friend,
I will try to go and get help." Then, switching to Russian, he said. "I have
told him to lay down his weapons and submit himself to your justice.
Remember, he did not kill any of his victims."
"That may be," Said a voice that Tasha recognized as the village bakers.
"but my Ulna will never be right again until this monster has been killed."
"Nor will our Sara." Spoke the voice of Phillip, the older brother of Tasha's
Suddenly, Tasha realized that she was standing naked before almost every man
she'd ever known. She could not run away, she could not cover her nakedness,
she could do nothing save await developments.
The point of the dagger pricked Tasha's breast again, this time drawing a
drop of blood. "Tell them, Father, I will kill this one if they don't go
Tasha, like the rest of the Jews froze, waiting for the priest to translate.
"He says that he will kill the girl if anyone comes near." The priest said,
moving in closer to the monk and his captive.
"Father, get back! I swear, I'll do it!"
Tasha, feeling the monk's naked sex pressing against her bound hands took a
grip on his testicles and began to squeeze with all her remaining strength.
Only the fact that her hands were almost numb from the tight bindings on her
wrists and elbows saved the big man from instant gelding.
Black Golem grunted and instinctively pulled away from the pain. As the
dagger dropped away from Tasha's breast, the priest carefully kicked his
servant on the point of his bearded chin. As the suddenly unconscious man
fell, Tasha was knocked off of her crossed feet, the noose cinching down
around her windpipe so tight that she could not utter a sound.
In the struggle to get the semi-conscious monk hogtied, the silently
thrashing girl was forgotten. Only when the big man was safely and
completely bound, did anyone notice the limp, naked body, hanging from her
neck, her struggles all but over.
Cutting the body down, the men loosened the noose and cut the cords that held
the gagging stick in her teeth. Pulling the blanket off of her head, the men
crowded around to see who's daughter had been taken this time.
Tasha felt as if she were waking up in Hell. Only, instead of demons looking
down at her, it was the men of her own village. The noose around her throat
had left a bruise that she would wear for a week. The shame she felt,
knowing that every possible husband in her entire world had seen her
displayed naked would last far longer. She tried to turn away, to hide her
body, but found it impossible due to the fact that her arms and legs remained
tightly bound. As soon as the blanket had been laid out over her, a dark
lantern was brought and it's shutters opened. In the leaf shadowed moon
light no-one had yet recognized her. Now as the light fell on her face she
heard her father's cry of anguish.
"Tasha! My God, it's my Tasha!" The man cried, falling to his knees beside
Tasha felt her father's hands under the blanket, trying to loosen the tight
cords that held her elbows together behind her back. The Golem had used hard
textured, brine soaked cords to insure his victim's total helplessness. If
her father had been able to see what he was doing, he would have still found
untying his daughter almost impossible. Working blind, trying to avoid
exposing his daughter to the gathered eyes if his fellow villagers, he now
found the task impossible.
Tasha looked up at her father. Still in shock from what had happened to her,
she saw his face suddenly seem to transform it's self, from an expression of
tortured anguish to one of hard resolve. "Whore!" He said, getting back to
his feet to stand over her. "How did the Golem catch you?" He asked, loud
enough to be heard by all of the men present.
Tasha tried to speak, to defend herself. She found that the gag and noose
had rendered her temporarily mute. Neither her mouth nor her larynx would
work properly. What she'd tried to say was. "Papa, help me." What had come
out had been a croak and a coughing spasm.
Turning his back on his still helpless daughter, Jacob Gross addressed his
neighbors. "If you will take the Golem back to the village, I will do what
needs to be done with this whore." He waved a disdainful hand at Tasha's
Tasha's uncle stepped up to face his brother and said, speaking in a soft
voice. "Jacob, have you gone mad? You act as if what has happened to her
were her fault. You can see that he was raping her."
"You don't understand, Misha." The anguished man cried.
"I ordered her to stay locked up in the house after dark. She would not be
here like this if she had obeyed me. Now look at her, shamed beyond
redemption. It would have been better if the noose around her neck had ended
"Jacob, she is unharmed! We got here in time!" Whispered Misha urgently,
trying to get through his brother's rage.
"Unharmed is she?" Tasha's father turned to face the gathered villagers.
"Then tell me this, who will marry a woman who has been exposed to the eyes
of the entire village? Which of you will take this strumpet for a wife,
knowing that every time she walks through the streets, ail men will be seeing
her as they have seen her this night, naked?"
Then, before anyone could answer, Jacob turned back to his brother and pulled
that man's butcher knife from his belt. "Now leave us! I would save my
family's honor!" He dropped to his knees beside his helpless daughter and
lifted his face to Heaven as he said. "Forgive me God, for what I must do."
He lifted the knife high, intending to drive it into Tasha's heart.
Misha struck the blade out of his brother's hand with his staff, then
signaled two friends to pull the enraged, sobbing man away. Picking up the
knife, he then knelt next to his niece and carefully reached under the
blanket to cut the cords at her wrists, elbows, knees and ankles.
When at last she was free of her bonds, Tasha drew the blanket up under her
chin and said. "Papa, I had to go out! Grandmother sent word that she was
sick and that she needed me!"
The distraught man fought to free himself from the grip of his two friends.
"You should have waited! You should have sent word to me, not gone out all
alone like that. Didn't it even occur to you that the message could have
been a fake?"
"Oh papa, the message was real. Sara's brother, Joseph brought it."
"Real or not, I ordered you to remain behind bared doors tonight!" Shouted
the man. "Why did you disobey me?"
On the other side of the small clearing, the naked prisoner spoke in his
pidgin Russian. "She come out make fuck. She talk friends. Lucky friends.
Friends already make fuck me. She like good fuck, come real man, real man
give Jew girl what she want."
Tasha, seeing the Golem for the first time, got carefully to her feet,
wrapping the stinking blanket around herself as she arose. Walking over to
where he lay, she looked down at him and spat into his face.
The two men that had been stationed to guard the prisoner tensed. It was
their responsibility to keep the Golem alive so that he could be taken back
to the village for punishment. At this very moment a caldron of pitch was
being heated in the central square of the Jewish quarter. It was felt that
seeing their rapist and tormentor punished would help some of his more
traumatized victims to get over their experiences.
Brother Kostos continued to brag about his sexual prowess. "Jew girls all
love me. Like big Greek cock. Cry for more when I let go in morning." To
shut the man up, Tasha kicked him in the face as he lay on the ground, his
arms and legs hogtied behind his back. The guards moved in to protect their
charge, gripping her arms and pulling her away.
"Where are the men?" Screeched the blanket wrapped girl, fighting the hands
that restrained her. "Where are the men that will defend my honor?"
.'Tasha, stop that." Ordered her uncle. "The Golem will be taken back and
punished. You are not his only victim after all."
During all this time, Father Cassini had been edging his way out of the
circle of Jews. He did not want to attract anyone's attention, but he very
much wanted to get away before anyone decided that he should share his
servant's punishment. Tar and feathering was a terrible thing, sometimes
fatal if the crowd got out of control. The priest knew what would happen if
a Jew had been raping Christian girls, the mob's anger would be vented on any
Jew unlucky enough to be caught, guilty or not. He suspected that Jews were
more just than that, but did not want to put it to the test. Not with his
"Who has the rail? We'll take the Colem back like the wild animal that he
is." Cried the baker, anxious to defuse the tension between Jacob and his
"Here it is." Said a voice from the rear of the circle. The long, splinter
filled rail was brought forward. The naked Monk was rolled over onto his
face and the fence rail was pushed up between his bound arms and legs so that
it paralleled his spine. To prevent the man's head from hanging down, and to
keep him from resting while they toiled, a length of rope was wrapped twice
around his throat, then tied above the rail. When the rail was lifted to
their shoulders the Monk found that to breathe he must flex his arms and keep
Thus, the procession started off toward the village, The naked Monk being
borne in the lead, the blanket wrapped girl following behind. Next had come
the brothers, Jacob and Misha Gross, followed by the remainder of the village
Jews. The good Father had, by this time, successfully made his escape,
galloping across the open step, the hem of his robe held in his hands.
As they walked, the brothers continued to argue. "Jacob, my brother, do not
judge her so quickly. Perhaps what she says is true. Perhaps mother is
indeed sick. If Tasha did get a message to come to mother's, she would have
to go out, wouldn't she?"
"The whore is lying. I talked to mother just after sunset. She was at aunt
Sophia's. She said that she was going to stay there until the rapist was
caught. She also said that she was feeling fine." Said Jacob, his voice now
devoid of all emotion.
Walking ahead of the two, Tasha's shoulders tensed, betraying her surprise at
"Tasha, when Joseph brought you the message, did he say where you were to
go?" Asked Misha, trying to understand.
Tasha stopped, slowly her head bowed. After a few seconds, her voice could
just be heard above the summer insects. "Dear uncle Misha, you must stop
this. Can't you see, his mind is closed to me. It no longer matters what I
say, he will believe what he wants to believe."
"But Tasha, Jacob, what will you do?" Misha asked, his anguish clear in the
timber of his voice.
"I do not know or care what she does." Said Jacob, his voice leaden. "But
she will never enter my house again. I hereby disown her. She was never my
child in the first place, I only raised her because I loved my wife so much."
"Jacob, please. You don't know what you are saying!" Cried Misha, grasping
and turning his brother. Even in the cloud veiled moonlight, he could see
the set of Jacob's features. It made his blood run cold to see his brother
like this. Jacob Gross was Misha's older brother. He had always been stern
and humorless. Now he looked like the Angel of Vengeance. Surely, Thought
Misha. even if she's done what Jacob thinks she's done, he's over-reacting.
"But Jacob, you love Tasha!" He cried.
"She is not my daughter! She never was mine! You all know that! God knows I
never fathered that red haired she-devil." The man screamed at all of them.
Then, twisting away from Misha with surprising strength, Jacob Gross lunged
at Tasha where she still stood, her head bowed in resignation to what she
knew was coming. Yanking away the blanket that was her only covering he
screamed. "Whore, do not cover your body now! You gave up any claim you had
to modesty when you went out looking for the Golem. You knew you would be
shamed. Now let them see your nakedness!
Tasha spun about, murder in her eyes. Without trying to cover herself in any
manner, she stood splay-legged in the moonlight and met her father's fury
straight on. "Uncultured Pig!" She said, her voice loud in the quiet night
air. "So you think that the truth is so important, do you? Well let's just
see about it shall we?"
Jacob tried to wrest the staff from his brother's hand but Misha held on,
wanting to hear what his niece would say.
Tasha laughed in a half crazed way, then turned away from her father and
faced the gathered Jews, her feet wide, her hands on her hips. "If I am a
whore, then who made me one? Who has been sneaking into my bed since even
before my mother died? Jacob Gross doesn't care that I am shamed. He only
cares that I remain unmarried so that he can continue fucking me like he's
been doing since I was eleven." As Tasha had been speaking, a hole had opened
up in the light overcast above. A shaft of brilliant moonlight had struck
her nude body full front, exposing her near perfect curves, her whispy red
pubic hair failing to even protect her sex from their eyes.
Most of the villagers had never even imagined a sight like the one they were
now seeing. Nudity was not necessary for procreation, therefore it was
discouraged as being sinful. There were men in the crowd that had never seen
their own wives as they were now seeing Tasha. Cool reason flew, leaving
only lust. While a few were mildly shocked to hear that Jacob Gross, the
unofficial mayor of the Jews, had been sleeping with his own daughter, more
were inclined to think that if they were to have a daughter like Tasha, they
might be tempted to do the same thing. Of more interest to the men in the
crowd was the fact that Tasha was no longer even trying to deny her father's
accusations. She had gone out looking for the Golem, looking for a night of
rough sex. In their eyes, that made her a whore. The traditional punishment
for whoring was known to all. Tasha had just sentenced herself to the same
punishment as was waiting for the Golem.
Jacob, taking advantage of Misha's momentary distraction snatched away that
man's heavy oaken staff and attacked his defenseless, defiant daughter.
Before anyone could react, Tasha was down, a trickle of blood coming from a
small wound just above her left ear. As she lay unconscious, her naked limbs
twitching in the dirt, her father stood over her ready to strike her again if
it proved necessary. When it became clear that she was truly unconscious, he
looked up at his neighbors and kinsmen and said. "If you have any respect
for me and what little remains of my family, you will help me take this
strumpet back to town and punish her at the same time and in the same way as
you punish the Black Golem."
The gathered villagers looked from Jacob to his brother. Misha seemed about
to object, but then seemed to change his mind. Looking down at the naked
body of his niece, he said. "Yes, I can see you are right. our family's
honor demands it." Then, turning to the villagers, he said. "Tar and
feathers is the traditional punishment for whores as well as for rapists.
The girl is a confessed whore. I say we must rid ourselves of both of them."
Tasha's first conscious thought was not a word but a concept. The
was of unendurable, yet inescapable pain. When she tried to open her eyes,
it felt as if a red hot spike were being driven into the side of her head.
Worse, were the rhythmic jolts of tearing pain were shooting up into her body
from her crotch. Her first thought was that she was being raped with
something huge. Then, when she finally forced open her eyes, she saw the
truth. While she'd been unconscious, her naked body had been lifted up to
straddle the same splinter filled rail that was being used to transport the
Golem. To keep her from falling off, they'd tied her ankles together under
the big man's hairy belly. In addition, they'd re-tied her hands together
behind her back and lashed them down to the rail well behind her split bottom
cheeks. A final tie had been fastened from a noose around her throat down to
the bar in front of her so that she was forced to remain upright, her entire
weight supported by the splinter filled bar between her legs. Lastly,
because Jacob still feared her tongue, the wooden stick gag had been returned
to her mouth, tied in place with cords that, if anything, were tighter than
the ones tied by the Golem.
Tasha twisted around, learning in the process that to move was to hurt. She
looked down at the faces of her life long friends and neighbors and wondered
for a moment if she had ever seem any of them before. Only in the eyes of
Phillip, her best friend's older brother, did she see any sign of compassion.
She cried out to him, her words garbled by the stick between her teeth.
Phillip, afraid that the others would understand, elbowed the man walking
next to him and said. "I don't believe she likes riding up there. Perhaps
we should have shoved the pole up her pussy instead."
Tasha turned back to the front, her eyes blinded by her hot tears. Again,
she tried to find a way to escape the pain in her groin. The trouble was,
there was just no way. The fat monk's weight pullinq down on her ankles was
cutting her in two on the sharp rail. To escape, she would have to lift his
weight up over the point of support. Because he weighed more than twice what
she did, that could never happen.
In the tear blurred distance, she could see the lights of the village. Even
from here, she could smell the hot tar.
The men marched on, each with his eyes up on the naked girl. Most were
sporting hard-ons like bars of iron.
Jacob Gross marched at the head of this column, his eyes seeming to glow
within his head. The men carrying the rail had fallen into a kind of
bouncing step that drove the rail up into Tasha's unprotected sex with every
pace. The thick rail creaked as it flexed under it's double load.
Above the roaring in her ears, Tasha could hear a weird crying sound, as if
some animal were caught in a trap. After a moment, she realized that the
sound was coming from her.
The people of the Jewish quarter, having been alerted by a messenger who'd
run ahead, came out to meet the procession and it's two captives. Tasha saw,
in the light of the torches, that they'd come armed. Some carried only
rotten fruits and vegetables. Others carried chamber pots. A few carried
stones. For the second time this night, Tasha began to fear for her life.
The first thing thrown was a squash, soft from too many months in the storage
bins. It's thrower was a girl named Grete, Tasha's lifelong enemy and rival.
The rotten squash hit Tasha on her chest, splitting open to cover her with
slime. Tasha nearly vomited from the smell, but held back because she feared
that the gag stick would choke her. Grete laughed up at her and shouted.
"Not so proud now, are you Tasha Gross?"
Tasha looked away, that being about the only thing she could do.
Before the procession got to the Jewish quarter's central square, not only
Tasha and the monk were covered with filth, but so were the four bearers.
Mercifully, no-one had been hit in a vital spot by any of the thrown missiles.
Set up in the middle of the square was a platform about ten feet square and
three feet high. At it's four corners were standing heavy wooden posts about
twelve feet tall. In the middle of the platform there was a hole for a fire
over which hung a large cauldron of hot tar.
The rail and it's suffering cargo was carried twice around the square, the
torches making obscene shadows dance upon the white-washed walls. Then, at a
word from Jacob, the rail was lowered, allowing the monk to lie out on his
face on the cobbles. Far more hands than necessary came then to release
Tasha from her seat of agony. Most of these hands managed to find their way
to her filth covered charms before they left. Tasha was dragged up to the
platform and pushed back against one of the posts. Her hands were tied
together in front and then brutally pulled up to be lashed to a ring set into
the post near it's top. Next, her ankles were pulled behind the post and
tied up to a ring at the post's rear so that her feet could not reach the
After her captors had finished with her, each having taken liberties with her
helpless body, Tasha was left hanging from the ropes on her wrists, her big
breasts flattening out from the strain, the thick post between her knees
preventing her from closing her legs.
When the monk was tied likewise to the opposite corner post, Jacob Gross
raised a hand for silence. When he could be heard above the babble, he said.
"We have discovered two vipers in our midst!" He waited for the crowd to get
quiet again and continued. "This one," He pointed his staff at the Golem's
limp, but still very oversized penis. "was despoiling our daughters!" Again,
he had to wait to be heard. "This one," His staff made a whooshing noise as
he swung it around to point at his daughter's filth covered loins. "went out
looking to be despoiled!" For a third time he had to wait for the crowd to
quiet so that he could be heard. "I ask you, what should we do with them?"
The mob went wild. Tasha looked out across the heads of her former friends
and neighbors and tried not to listen to the shouted suggestions coming up
"Skin them!" Shouted old Mrs. Goldstine, a woman that Tasha had many times
nursed when she'd been sick.
"Forget the tar, get some oil!" Shouted one of the Golem's very first
victims, a girl of fifteen.
"Make him suffer like my Ulna suffers!" Shouted the baker, waving his fist at
the hanging monk.
Then, from behind her, Tasha heard the one voice she had not expected to
hear. Sara, Tasha's life long best friend, called up. "Castrate the
monster! That will cure him!" Tasha twisted in her bonds, trying to see Sara.
The girl was fighting her way forward in the crowd, a wild look in her eyes,
a long, wicked looking knife in her hand.
Tasha could not believe her eyes. Sara had not been out of her father's
house for over two weeks. Not since she'd been the Golem's captive had she
found it possible to go out in public. Now, here she was, in the center of
this insane mob, screaming for blood.
The hanging monk bellowed in fear and tried his best to climb the post behind
him. "No Kill!!!" The man called "Monster" screamed, sounding remarkably
like a bull at the slaughter house.
Sara was stopped by two middle aged women who carefully disarmed her before
trying to lead her away. "Please, don't you see? We will never be safe as
long as he has his eggs." She cried, letting herself be dragged away.
Tasha hung from her wrists and thought about Sara's ordeal. Taken from her
own bed in the middle of the night and spirited out of the village, Sara had
been the only one of the Golem's victims to be gone two nights. The first
night had been the Golem's. He'd used her and abused her uncounted times.
He'd driven her half mad with a deadly combination of pain and passion. He'd
opened new vistas for her, while at the same time locking her into a life
long prison of inescapable terror.
When, at last, the dawn had come, he'd untied her feet and slapped her rump
exactly the way you'd turn a mare out to pasture. Sara had stumbled away,
the horse blanket still tied over her head, the gag bar still tied between
her teeth. Despite the pain, her arms had continued to fight the cords that
bound them together behind her back. Except for the blanket that had hung
down over her body, she'd been entirely naked.
She'd wandered across the empty steppe, not knowing if she were moving closer
or further away from her village. She'd prayed to God that someone would
find her before she died of thirst.
God is sometimes excessively cruel. Her prayers were answered. She was
found by a giggling troupe of school boys. At the sounds of their running
footsteps approaching, Sara had cried out in joy and relief. Soon, she would
be free of the blinding blanket, the hurtful cords, the foul tasting, wool
covered gag stick.
Instead, she'd found herself surrounded by silent figures, no-one responding
to her pleading, gag garbled cries, no-one even touching her at first.
Sensing her danger, she'd tried to run, only to be reigned in by the hanging
blanket corners. She'd tried to kick out at them but they'd countered with a
pair of leather horse hobbles that they'd strapped to her ankles. Then,
unable to see, fight or even object, she'd been dragged away, the blanket
being used as a four way leash. When she'd stumbled down into a gully she'd
known why. Her new captors hadn't wanted to be discovered before they'd had
their fill of her lush, fully available body.
At the bottom of the gully, they'd tripped her, then rolled her over onto her
bound arms so that they could tie her legs up to two young trees so that her
sex was pulled wide open. She'd begun screaming then. She had not stopped
until nightfall, ten long pain filled hours later.
When the very last boy had finally left to go home to his hot supper and warm
bed, he'd left Sara with a gift. A large wax candle he'd stolen from Father
Cassini's church. Once he'd shoved the candle out of sight into her
over-used vagina, he'd tied it in place with a cord that ran down from her
wrists, through her crotch and up to be cinched around her waist.
After he'd untied her feet and helped her up, Sara had been so engrossed with
trying to find a way to get rid of the candle, she had not noticed as he's
It had been late the next morning that she had been found by her older
brother, Phillip. By that time she'd had countless orgasms, some mild, some
so intense that she's fallen to the ground to writhe in gagged silence.
Phillip had not known of the candle until he'd untied the cord that bound her
wrists down between her bottom cheeks. Then, he'd watched in amazement as
her body had disgorged the ten inch shaft of white wax, two inches in
When questioned, Sara had been unable to identify even one of her attackers.
It was thought (Fervently hoped) that she had been taken by a pack of boys
from the Christian side of town. No-one wanted to think what they all
suspected. Too many Jewish boys had had strange excuses as to where they had
been that day. As yet, no-one had confessed, but just to be sure, the adults
were carefully avoiding the subject.
Tasha had stayed with Sara night and day ever since she'd been found, sitting
beside her bed so that the girl could sleep, comforting her when she would
wake up screaming in the night.
It had been Sara's continuing nightmares that made Tasha decide to go out and
find the rapist. Sara had needed someone she could talk to, someone who'd
experienced the terror of being held helpless within the blanket prison while
being sexually ravaged. The other girls hadn't been of any help because they
had so little in common with Sara. Tasha had felt that since she was used to
being raped it would be no big sacrifice for her to spend the night in the
clutches of whoever it was that was doing these things. After all, none of
the girls had been permanently injured, other than loosing their maidenheads.
Tasha had lost that five years before, when her father had begun "visiting"
her in her bed after her mother had gotten sick.
She'd already known how it was to be made helpless during sex, her father had
seemed to need that as much as he'd needed her body. But the element of
helplessness wasn't the only terror of the Golem's attacks, there was also
the sexual prowess that the monk had brought to his attacks. Every one of
the victims that Tasha had been able to get to talk had said that the true
horror came from their unwilling enjoyment of what the man did to them while
they were helpless.
The trouble was, her father had ordered her to remain behind locked doors at
night until the rapist was caught. How could she experience the rapist if he
couldn't get at her?
Knowing that her grandmother could not remember her own name sometimes, she'd
felt certain that she could get away with claiming to have been summoned.
She'd bribed Joseph, Sara's little brother, to back up her story, then gone
out in search of the man who'd done these things to her friend.
What had tripped her up was the fact that her grandmother had not been at
home. That meant that Joseph would be caught out in a lie. His rehearsed
story was that held been passing the old woman's house and she'd called out
to him, saying that she was feeling bad and that he should go get Tasha,
right away. When she'd heard her father tell her uncle Misha that her
grandmother wasn't at home, she'd known all was lost. The only thing she
would accomplish by sticking to her story would be to get Joseph punished
Tasha hung against the post, her naked, filth covered body on display for the
entire village. She could do nothing save await the hot tar that would be
poured over her unprotected skin. Her crime was violating the sexual mores
of her tribe. For this she would be covered in tar, decorated with feathers
and taken out of town straddling yet another rail. Once the mob had finished
with the two of them they would be dumped into the town's garbage pit and
left, their hands still tied, the hardening tar sealing their eyes closed.
Some victims of the tar and feather cure never even found their way out of
the garbage pit. Tasha remembered seeing the rotting, maggot covered body of
a man who'd been accused of raping and murdering his own mother. The fall
into the pit had been arranged in such a way that his legs had both been
broken. It had taken the man two weeks to die of thirst and exposure. In
that time, he had managed to move less than twenty feet.
Even if Tasha were to find her way out of the garbage pit alive, she would
still be naked, marked as an undesirable and vulnerable to anything that
anyone might want to do to her. Once tarred, she would be forever banned
from any village. Her best hope for survival would be to be gathered up by
one of the slave caravans that sometimes came through on their way south.
Slaves were, after all, fed, clothed, and protected from harm because they
were valuable. A female slave with Tasha's looks would be so valuable that
she would probably be treated better than she had when living in her own home.
The big pot of tar was ready. The fathers and brothers of the raped girls
lined up, each holding a large wooden ladle. As they filed past the bubbling
pot, each man filled his ladle with hot tar. Walking to stand in a
semi-circle around the squirming monk, they each extended their arms and held
their full ladles above the man's head.
Tasha tried to look away, but her father was there, standing next to the
post, ready to grab her head and force her to watch.
The first splash of hot tar struck the big man on the right shoulder, the hot
black liquid running down under his stretched armpit before it cooled enough
to stick. Again, the big monk bellowed in pain. One of the circle of men
chose that moment to empty his ladle over the monk's upturned face.
Tasha vomited, the stick gag hindering the flow, but not stopping it. Her
father let go of her head with a curse and looked around for something with
which to wipe off his hands. Tasha twisted her head away from the sight of
the monk being completely covered in hot tar and thus was the first to see
the ring of armed men that surrounded the mob of Jews in the square.
Father Cassini, once he'd seen to his own safety, had gone for help. The
Slavic Christians were not about to let a holy man be punished by Jews, no
matter what he'd done. Especially since he had not done it to their
Tasha twisted and fought her bonds, raking her bare back against the rough
wood of the post. She tried to warn the gathered people of the approaching
danger. Again, as always, the gag defeated her.
The armed men closed their circle and began to attack the Jews from behind.
Tasha could see that while most were Slav villagers, a good third were
soldiers from the garrison. Both the soldiers and the villagers were armed
with heavy oaken staffs fitted with iron pike heads taken from the Tsar's
armory. At first, the screams of the wounded went unnoticed in the general
excitement. Then, the gathered Jews began to realize what was happening.
For the most part, the Jews were un-armed. Those few in the crowd that did
have weapons were unable to do much due to the press of panic stricken people
Tasha watched as her father grabbed his staff and leapt down from the
platform in a vain attempt at saving an old Rabbi that was being attacked by
a huge Slav armed with a pike. Before he could get to where he could help
the old man, it was too late. The old Rabbi had fallen, blood spraying like
a fountain from a wound in his chest. Jacob parried the Slav's next thrust
and drove the end of his staff into the man's face, exploding his eye in it's
socket. Jacob turned and saw two Christians attacking Misha. He dispatched
one of these with a blow across the back of his head, then as he was turning
to face the other, an arrow, fired from a nearby roof top took out most of
his throat. Before he could fall, the man who he'd been facing drove his
pike into his chest, pinning him to a whitewashed wall.
In less than ten minutes, the slaughter was over. The only Jews still alive
were the small group of nubile young girls being herded into a corner. After
all, slave girls were like gold. Once their men were no longer alive to
defend them, there was no reason to throw away the wealth that they could
To avoid soiling the hem of his cassock, Father Cassini was holding it up
with one hand as he picked his way across the blood soaked square. His eyes
were locked upon the tar covered monk, hanging limply from his wrists on the
post. AS he stepped up onto the raised platform, Tasha, in a state of shock
at what had just happened, giggled at the sight of the man.s skinny, white,
hair matted legs. The priest's gaze turned from the tar covered monk toward
the hanging girl. As if he were seeing her for the first time, his eyes
widened in surprise. "What are you doing here?" He asked.
Forgetting the gag, Tasha tried to spit.
Cassini snorted and said to a nearby Slav. "Cut her down and put her over
there with the rest of the slaves." Then, turning his attention back to the
tar covered monk, he said, in their native Greek. "I guess we all serve the
Lord in different ways. Who would have believed that so much good could have
come from rape?" He waved a hand at the carnage around the platform.
Brother Kostos moaned and, for the thousandth time, tried to escape his bonds.
Snorting, Father Cassini turned away and ordered. "Help him down and clean
him up, I'll be at the Church." He turned away and, pulling up the hem of his
cassock once again, strode off, leaving his flock to do what they liked with
the property and persons of the surviving Jewish girls.
Tasha was let down from the post, then shoved, still naked, over to the
huddling group of new slaves. Too deeply in shock to even cry, the young
women seemed to not know what had just happened to their lives. Their men
were dead, their property confiscated, their persons enslaved.
Tasha saw Sara sitting on the cobbles by the corner of two walls. She hugged
her breasts to herself and tried to move over toward her friend. "Slut!"
Said Grete, the girl that had thrown the first squash. Tasha stopped, turned
toward the girl and tried to remember why she should be so hated.
"What are you looking at, whore?" Said another young woman, behind her.
Tasha turned toward this new voice. She saw that it was Ulna, the baker's
daughter. The girl who's mind had been destroyed by her night with the
Golem. Unable to face what she'd found out about herself, Ulna had retreated
into a shell of denial. At first, she'd seemed so much in control, it had
been as if nothing had happened. Then, after two days, she'd been discovered
hiding in a store room. When her father had approached the shivering girl
her eyes had grown as big as two saucers and she'd begun to scream wildly.
Twelve hours later, she'd tried to kill herself for the first time. Tasha
could see the resulting rope burn around the girl's throat.
"Whore, do you see what your sin has brought down upon us?" Shouted a third
girl, slapping Tasha's face.
Suddenly, all of the young women were attacking Tasha, all but Sara who
remained over by the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. "Bitch, why do
you come here? Go with your Greek lover. He will protect you." Said one,
yanking Tasha's red hair.
"Maybe if she weren't so pretty, she would cause less trouble!" Said another,
reaching her nails toward Tasha's face.
Tasha backed away. In her present state of shock she was in no condition to
The women attacked, knocking Tasha to the ground and kicking at her as she
tried to roll up into a protective ball.
The two soldiers that had been ordered to watch over the captives began to
curse and shove the screaming women aside. Working their way into the center
of the circle of women, they pulled the naked girl up and hustled her away,
one on each side.
The larger of the two men called to a couple of passing Slavs to take over
guarding the rest of the captives, then began to hustle Tasha away across the
square. "Wheeoo, don't she stink?" He said to the man on her right.
"She'll wash." Said the other. "Once she's cleaned up, she'll make someone a
damn fine bed warmer."
"Why were they hurting her?" Asked the first, his free hand finding it's way
in under her arm to feel the softness of her breast.
"From what I heard, she was helping Brother Kostos rape all those other
girls." Said the second, who was also feeling Tasha's naked body with his
"Oh sure, why would she do that?" Said the first, his fingers taking a hold
on Tasha's nipple.
"Why do Jews do anything?" Shrugged the other, bending down to take the blood
soaked prayer shawl from the shoulders of the dead Rabbi.
The two men took Tasha across the square to her uncle Misha's butcher shop.
Once they'd kicked the door down, they pushed Tasha inside and lit a lantern
before re-closing what was left of the door. Tying a large knot in the
middle of the prayer shawl, the larger of the two grabbed Tasha in a head
lock and began to force the knot into her mouth. "Hold her hands, she's
clawing my back to ribbons!" He said, fighting to control the naked girl.
The second man stood behind Tasha, her wrists gripped in his big hands and
twisted up high to force her head down. The First man continued to shove
until Tasha was afraid her teeth would break under the pressure. With a cry
of defeat, the girl opened her clenched jaws and the knot went in, filling
her mouth completely, blocking any further protests she might want to make.
Knotting the shawl behind the struggling girl's neck, the big man said.
"Find something to tie her with, she's as strong as the devil himself!"
"Here, we'll use this." Said the other, finding the roll of her uncle's
butcher cord beside the chopping block.
"But that's only string!" Said the first man when he saw what his mate was
"It'll hold her, if we tie her right!" Said the second. "Here, let me show
Tasha felt her right hand taken by the second man and her thumb looped with
the strong butcher's cord. When the man cinched the loop down on her thumb,
she felt as if he were trying to sever it from her hand. "Now, bend her over
here, I'll tie this down out of our way." Tasha felt the cold wood of her
uncle's butcher's block against her front as they forced her to bend over.
Then, she felt the cord tighten as the man tied it down to the front leg of
the block. She tried to find some slack by going up on her toes, but he only
laughed and took up the slack, trapping her even further over the block. In
seconds her other thumb was noosed and tied down to the block's other front
leg. Then, her big toes were noosed in the cord and drawn up to be lashed
directly to her extended thumbs.
Tasha felt as if she'd been tied for sacrifice. Unable to move a muscle, she
was balanced up on the butcher block, her weight supported on her big breasts
and the insides if her thighs where the block's corners cut in. Her sex was
sticking up like an in-season cow's, open and ready to receive her bull.
She began to scream, not caring that the knotted shawl was blocking her mouth
so well that she could not be heard outside of this room.
"What, in the name of Mary, ith going on in here?" Said a third voice, it's
lisping, effeminate tone telling all three of the people present that the
Captain of the Tsar's troops had come into the shop.
The two Slav soldiers jumped back, their bone hard erections pushing out the
fronts of their trousers. "The other girls were trying to kill this one."
Said the larger of the two soldiers, saluting the officer as he spoke.
"Jew Bitch fought like a demon." Said the second man, holding up the lantern
so that the officer could see Tasha's swollen sex better. "We had to tie her
to keep her from hurting herself."
"Thee lookth ready to be fucked" Said the officer, stepping in closer to
examine Tasha's up-thrust rump. "Jehith, that ride thee took on that rail
didn't do thith any good, did it?" His soft fingers took Tasha's swollen
labia between them and squeezed, making the girl's screams suddenly catch in
her throat as the pain flashed anew in her injured sex.
"I figure she'll fuck all the better because she is sore." Said the bigger of
the two soldiers, patting Tasha's up-thrust rump. "All swollen and tender
like she is, she'll feel your cock just that much more."
"Bitch thinkth." observed the officer, sliding his thumb into Tasha's
opening, watching as she writhed her hips to the limits of her tight bondage.
"You get used to it." Said the second man, hoping the officer would go away
and leave them alone with their prize.
"Nith body, be a theme to cover her with tar."
"Sure would be. Crazy fucking Jews. They was going to waste her."
The officer looked around the shop. Spotting the buckets of sand and water
that her uncle had used to clean the blood off of the shop's floor each
night, he said. "Wath her, I'll not thoil mythelf."
Two minutes before, the two soldiers had been Tasha's masters. Suddenly,
they had been reduced to the status of pimps and whore house maidservants.
To assuage their feelings of frustration, they punished the helpless girl as
they cleaned her. The water was cold, the sand course. As the two men set
to work on her, Tasha began to wonder if they intended to skin her alive.
The officer leaned against a wall, his face twisted into an amused sneer as
the two soldiers cleaned the dried filth off of Tasha's helpless body.
Despite the fact that she was very tightly tied, the two men managed to reach
almost every square inch of her, leaving her skin glowing pinkly, looking and
feeling as if it had been par-boiled.
When, at long last, they had finished, the officer waved them away and
stepped up beside her. "Red hair." He said, looking down at the panting,
pink skinned girl. "You don't thee many red headed Jewithith, mutht be her
mother didn't they clothe enough to home."
Tasha's mother had been very close to home when she'd conceived Tasha. In
fact, she'd been in her own marriage bed. Jacob, her brand new husband had
been in the room also. But it had not been Jacob Gross that had fathered
Tasha that night. It had been a red haired soldier that had come, drunk and
vicious on their wedding night. Jacob Gross had spent his wedding night
hanging from his ankles at the foot of his own bed, forced to watch as the
soldier had rutted over his equally helpless bride.
In the morning, the soldier had left, whistling a happy tune, leaving Jacob
to hang, his young wife spread-eagled on the bed, bleeding.
It was because of Tasha's well known bastardy that no-one had condemned Jacob
for incest. After all, the girl was no relation to him. It had been felt by
most, that she should have been happy to repay him for his having raised her,
especially since her mother had been rendered unable to have any more
children and thus had not been able to have sexual relations with her husband.
The smaller of the two soldiers said. "We figure she's worth more as a slave
than all the rest put together. That's why we bothered to save her."
The officer reached out and touched Tasha's open sex with knowing fingers.
"Chritht, the'th wet!" He said, his voice suddenly husky with lust. "The Jew
bitch feelth like my mare in heat!"
Tasha felt his long fingers go deep into her body, hooking down to press
against her "G" spot so that she very nearly lost control of her bladder.
She also felt her sheath spasm in pleasure, drawing his fingers even deeper
It had always been like that for Tasha. No matter how she tried to fight it,
her body would almost always find excitement and pleasure in sexual
stimulation. Her father had almost always used rope when he would "visit"
bar bed at night. To his mind, it had been the only way for him to "get
even" with her real father.
Trained from the age of eleven to associate bondage with sex, Tasha had
learned that to enjoy her rapes was far better than to suffer through them.
Now, tied down over her dead uncle's butcher block, helpless to even object,
Tasha knew that she would soon shame herself, becoming sexually aroused to
the point of multiple orgasms under their attacks upon her person.
The officer withdrew his long fingers and loosened his belt. "I wonder if
thee'th ever been whipped." He said, his voice husky with lust.
Tasha twisted her head back over her shoulder, her eyes wide. The officer's
belt was folded in two, it's three inch wide leather glistening with high
polish. She cried out, the knotted cloth muffling her to nothing more than a
mumble. The strap went high, then came down, hard, across her up-thrust ass
like a bolt of lightning. She very nearly pulled her thumbs off of her hands
as she reflexively kicked her feet.
Once again, she began to scream.
Three hours later, Brother Kostos came before Father
Cassini. Speaking in Greek, the priest said. "Well man, what do you intend
to do now? You've been exposed as a rapist. The villagers will not let you
"Then I guess I'll just have to leave." Said the big man with a shrug.
Father Cassini looked at the big monk. His exposed skin looked as if it had
been sanded, which it had. The priest knew that tar removal involved a
mixture of naphtha and sand, applied with vigor. The only known way to get
it out of hair was to shave it off. The big monk had possessed a thick pelt,
all over his body. Now he was totally devoid of hair from the top of his
head down to the spaces between his toes. He looked like a gorilla that had
been caught in a forest fire.
"I know a way to finance your trip." Said the priest with a smile. It
pleased him to solve so many problems at once. "You could buy the new slaves
and take them to market in Constantinople. That would get them away from
here before things get out of hand." As spiritual leader of the village,
Father Cassini was afraid of what twenty female slaves would do to the
"morals" of his flock. Having so many helpless females around would do
nothing to enhance the general chastity. Besides, like many priests of his
time, he'd had himself castrated. The only use he had for the girls was the
profit he would get from their sale.
"Brother Kostos gave his former employer a calculating look. "I don't have a
lot of money." He said, maneuvering for position.
"Christ, you should, as much as you've stolen from the Church treasury!"
Laughed the priest, knowing that the monk had at least ten times the required
The truth was, Brother Kostos had over a hundred times the price of the
girls, buried in a crock five miles south of town. But that didn't mean he
was willing to pay too much for them. He said. "If I were to buy the little
bitches, I'd have to hire guards. I'd be a fool to think I could get twenty
slaves all the way to Constantinople by myself."
"Considering the fringe benefits that go with that job, I shouldn't think
you'd have to pay much for guards." Said the priest.
Brother Kostos thought about the long road to Byzantium. If he managed to
get there alive, he'd be wealthy beyond imagining. The profit he would get
from the sale of the slave girls would reward him a thousand to one on his
investment. Getting there would be the trick. Out on the empty steppe there
lived tribes of Bulgar nomads who saw travelers as something to be harvested,
like game. Getting past them would require that be hire a strong enough
force to make attack not worth the trouble. But if he hired too many
escorts, he stood the risk of being murdered by his own men. Then there was
the problem of his gold. How could he bring that great weight of coin along
without anyone finding out? The monk shrugged, it wasn't like he had a whole
lot of choice, after all. Coming to his decision, he said. "How much do you
think I'd need to purchase the women?"
Father Cassini smiled at his old friend and said. "No more than a gold coin
each." Twenty gold coins was the tax the entire village sent to the Tsar in
Kiev every year.
Brother Kostos snorted, then said. "I'll pay two silver coins each, if that
price includes hand and leg irons. Plus, of course a tithe to the church."
He was offering the standard bribe.
Seeing that they were going to be at it for a while, the priest got out a
bottle of wine and motioned to the monk to sit down at a table.
Tasha listened to the sounds of looting outside the ruined butcher shop. The
Slavs had spent the night carrying off the wealth of the now empty Jewish
quarter. The two soldiers, having exhausted themselves for the time being,
were sharing a bottle of wine they'd found.
"Damned shame we got to give her up, ain't it." Said the larger of the two,
rubbing his sore, limp penis against Tasha's inflamed labia.
"We'll get our share of the profit." Said the other with resignation. He too
had found something compelling about the captive girl. Something far too
elemental to be put into words.
In the course of the night, Tasha had taken everything three men could do to
her and, in the end, had defeated all of them.
Spent, the two men looked down at the helpless girl and saw that she remained
unchanged. Her open sex waited for another thrust the same as it had before
the now departed officer had begun. Her panting cries, muffled by the gag
were the same as they'd been when the belt had first smacked into her bottom.
The blush of her abused skin had ebbed and flowed as her passion had, but
never had it gone completely away. Even now, after six hours up on the
butcher block, she looked as if she were pleading for more.
The first soldier shrugged off his thoughts and said. "We'd better get her
back, too many people know we have her."
The second man sighed deeply and agreed. "I guess you're right. After all,
she's by far the best looking one of the lot. Everyone would be pretty mad
if she were to turn up missing." As he'd been speaking he'd been cutting the
cords that helstretched her thumbs and toes downward.
Tasha, free at last from the position the cords had forced upon her screamed
as she tried to move. Her muscles and joints seemed to have frozen in her
bent over position. She found that she could not lift her chest up off of
the wood, even after she'd gotten her feet down to the floor.
"Here bitch, let me take off that gag for you." Said the first man, seeing
how weak she'd been left by her ordeal.
As he was untying the prayer shawl, his mate was pulling her hands behind her
back and lashing her swollen thumbs together using more of the cord from the
spool under the block upon which she was lying. The first man snorted and
said. "What's the matter, friend, afraid she'll hurt you?"
The second soldier did not respond until Tasha's thumbs were lashed tight and
the loops cinched. Then he said. "It never hurts to be careful with new
slaves. They sometimes get dangerous until they've had time to be properly
Tasha was finding that, as before when she'd been up on the block, the
butcher's string was plenty strong enough to hold her thumbs. As before, her
fingers had become nothing more than useless, wiggling things attached to her
Then, as if not satisfied with Tasha's helplessness, the soldier bent down
and tied the two hanging nooses on her toes together so that she was hobbled
to no more than a six inch step.
The larger man had, in the mean time, found the blood stained cloak that her
uncle had always worn while slaughtering. He brought it over and gently
wrapped it around Tasha's shoulders, saying. "Looks like it's going to be
another hot day. Red heads need protection from the sun."
"Ya, and this red head needs protection from the other girls." Said the other
as he helped her to stand up.
When the two exhausted soldiers escorted the hobbling, cloak wrapped young
woman from the butcher shop they saw a scene from Hell. The dead Jews had
been dragged into a large pile and covered with wood and thatch pulled down
from the houses around the square. Setting the huge pyre alight, the Slavs
had gone back to looting the empty houses.
Already, many of the houses of the Jewish quarter were in flames, no-one
bothering to fight the spreading fires because they were too busy gathering
the property of the dead. As Tasha hobbled across the square, she saw one
huge Slav pushing a hand cart loaded down with the entire contents of a small
She was pushed over to the holding area formed by two white- washed walls and
a stretched rope. When she was pushed under the rope she half expected to be
attacked again. Then she saw that, like her, the other survivors had been
bound. Each of the young women now had her hands tied behind her back. In
addition, most had had their clothing ripped open and left hanging in shreds
so that their helpless bodies were on display. Tasha could see that some of
the girls must have resisted, because they'd also had their elbows tied
together as a form of punishment. Grete, the girl who'd thrown the rotten
squash, had displeased the soldiers so much that she'd been stripped naked,
spread eagled in a doorway, and left balanced upon a rough punishment rope
tied tightly through her crotch so that to move was to cut herself up the
middle. To keep her from making too much noise, they'd used the scraps of
her own dress to gag and blindfold her. Now, Grate hung in squirming
silence, her toes searching for the ground they could not reach, the tight
rope between her legs the center of her universe.
Tasha, her steps rendered tiny and painful by the short cords tied between
her toes, moved across the small area to where her friend, Sara was crouched
against a wall. Recognizing the girl's fragile mental state, the man who'd
tied her had not been unkind. Her hands had been tied in front, a simple
loop around her waist to keep her teeth away from the knots. Most of her
clothing had been left her, though someone had pulled down her bodice to get
a look at her breasts.
Sara?" Said Tasha, hunkering down so she could look into her friend's
Sara looked up, her face blank for a full three seconds. Then she smiled
weakly and said. "Tasha, I was afraid I would never see you again." She
struggled to her feet, the rope on her wrists making the task awkward. "They
gave you something to wear?"
"Yes, one of them thought I would be more valuable without a sunburn." Tasba
said, leaning against the wall next to her friend.
"Did they rape you?" Sara asked in a low, frightened voice.
"Yes, and worse." Said Tasha with resignation.
"Both of them?"
"Three." Tasha said, thinking that she should change the subject.
"I know what you mean, when you say worse." Sara said. "When the Golem had
me it was horrible. But at least he gave as much pleasure as pain. The boys
gave only pain."
"What is truly the worst," Said Tasha, elated that Sara was at last opening
up. "is that the pain sometimes becomes pleasure."
"Yes, Sara whispered, suddenly dropping her chin to her bare breast. "you
are right. That is the true horror of rape." Then, after a long moment, she
looked Up into Tasha's face, tears overflowing from her eyes. "Why? Why do
they do these things to us?"
Tasha, unable to take her friend into her sheltering arms, pressed her body
against Sara's. "Oh Sara, I don't know!" She gasped, tears flowing unchecked
down her face. "Why do people do the things they do? Why did my father blame
me for what a passing soldier did? Nothing makes any sense!"
Sara slipped her bound hands into the front of Tasha's cloak, her questing
fingers finding their way up to her tender breasts. "Our love makes sense!"
She said with fervor as she began to gently stroke Tasha's long nipples.
Tasha sucked in her breath as Sara gently pinched her already tender nipple.
"Please, be gentle." She whispered, just before touching her tongue to her
"You two!" Shouted a guard. "Move away from each other!"
Tasha and Sara resumed their former positions leaning against the wall, side
by side. Waiting for the guard to move on, Tasha said, speaking low. "My
God, who would think I would ever feel desire again?"
Sara looked up at her friend and said. "I thought I'd died inside." It was a
simple way of saying that she had found her way out of the Hell in which she
had been wandering.
Tasha stood against the wall, tears of joy running down her face. Her love
was back from madness. Together, they could now set things right.
It was several days before Brother Kostos was ready to begin his trek to the
slave market in Constantinople. In that time, the girls had been riveted
into hand and leg irons, wagons had been modified, and the number of slaves
had been reduced by two.
The first to die had been killed by Brother Kostos as an object lesson to the
others. Being an experienced slave handler, the ex monk knew that the only
true bond a slave ever wears is one forged of fear. He also knew that until
this bond is forged in the mind of the slave, he or she is a thoroughly
Therefore, when Helen, the youngest and skinniest of the captives had slipped
out of her shackles and tried to run away, Brother Kostos had decided to make
her an example to the others.
The captive women had been quartered in an empty barn that had been saved
from the fires of the pogrom. A long chain had been stretched between two
massive support pillars and the now entirely naked young women had been
attached, at three foot intervals, to this chain by the center link of their
leg shackles. The straw that the guards had spread down had served as both
bedding and, when necessary, latrine.
Helen had been gone less than four hours when Brother Kostos brought her
back. One of the guards had dragged her into the barn by a length of chain
that had been fastened around her throat. Her face had been pretty, but
someone had beat her up so badly that it now was nothing but a swollen bloody
pulp. They had placed a piece of wood between her back and elbows, then tied
her hands together across her tummy. A second length of rough rope had been
looped over her wrist rope then pulled down, through her almost hairless sex
and up to where it could be tied to the bar between her elbows. To keep her
from trying to run again, they'd tied a heavy bag of sand to one of her
ankles, letting it drag behind her on a short rope.
Brother Kostos had followed the girl through the barn doors, leaving them
open so that the Slavs outside could see what was about to happen. In his
hand had been something heavy in a wet burlap sack.
Helen had been dragged, the weight on her ankle making it a long process,
over to an support post in full view of the other girls but well out of their
reach. The Golem had then opened the sack and dumped out a block of ice that
had been cut from the river the previous winter. Placing this one foot cube
on the barn floor, next to the post, he'd forced the young girl to step up
onto it. Pressing her bare back against the post, he'd held her still while
the guard had wrapped the lead chain around both the post and her throat,
making sure that it passed over a peg on the post's far side that would keep
it from slipping down.
Finished, the men had then left Helen to die. Warmed by the heat of the day
and by the blood pumping through Helen's bare feet, the block of ice had
rapidly shrunk. The chain had grown steadily tiqhter, changing the qirl's
sobs into choking gasps, her lips turning as blue as her freezing feet.
Tasha and the others had watched in growing horror as Helen had struggled to
remain alive. Watched as her feet had melted into the ice, fighting to find
support on it's slippery, ever shrinking surface. Watched as her hands had
stretched upward, toward the choking chain, despite the pain she'd been
causing herself as the crotch rope had cut up into her naked sex.
Then, when every breath had been gained only at the cost of utmost effort,
Brother Kostos had begun to attack the struggling girl with a long black
whip. Knocked from her footing by the very first blow of the vicious whip,
Helen had hung against the post like a tangled puppet, her bare feet kicking,
trying to find the ice she could not see. The big whip had come again and
again, it's supple length striking like a cobra at her helplessly dancing
body from her budding breasts, down to her skinny thighs.
After ten minutes, the sweating ex monk had stopped, coiled up his whip and
turned away from the now dead girl. Addressing the remaining captives, he'd
said. "Jew bitch run away. Now she dead. Slave run, slave die. You run,
you die, same her." With that, he'd shoved his coiled whip into his sword
belt and walked out of the barn, leaving Helen's body to hang from the tight
wraps of chain around her throat.
That night, Ulna, the baker's daughter, had escaped in the only way left to
her. She'd quietly bitten through the veins in her wrists and bled to death
without making a sound.
On the morning of the eighth day, the guards came in and un-locked the long
chain from the two posts. Ordering the women to stand up, the guards led
them out into the sunlight. Still shackled at hands and feet, their ankle
chains attached to the long chain at three foot intervals, the line of naked
females shuffled forward, trying not to trip and fall.
Outside, waited two large canvas covered wagons hitched to teams of horses.
One by one, the young women were un-locked from the long chain and lifted up
to the front wagon. Once inside the wagon, each girl was forced to sit down
with her back against the side while her ankle chain was locked to an
immovable iron bar that was fastened to the wagon from front to rear. Spaced
between the girls were three inch holes cut into the floor boards to be used
as latrines so that they would never have to be released.
Tasha, by chance the last to be fastened into the wagon, turned to Sara and
said. "Well, this is a relief. I was afraid that the Golem was going to
make us try to walk all the way to Constantinople."
"With these chains on our feet, it would take a year for us to walk all that
way." Said Sara, leaning past Tasha to look out the flap at the back of the
Outside, Brother Kostos was just mounting up on the huge old war horse he'd
bought for the journey. Ridding around his little caravan, he inspected it
one last time. Consisting of two large four wheeled wagons, each pulled by
four horses, and ten heavily armed outriders hired from the contingent of the
Tsar's soldiers stationed in the village, the caravan was all ready for the
trail. He moved his big horse to the head of the column and began to lead
the way out of town.
Just as soon as they were past the last house, the outriders formed into two
columns which moved out on each side to guard against trouble. Slowly, the
little band moved off down the seldom used trail that led south out of Mother
Russia and toward the fabled cities of Byzantium.
Tasha did not fear going to Constantinople. As a matter of fact, she'd
always dreamed of going there. Not as a slave perhaps, but to a Jewish girl
of the thirteenth century, slavery was not that different than the life she'd
known since birth.
Now, as she sat in the back of the wagon, she looked out at the village of
her childhood. Even though she knew that she would never see it again, she
felt no sense of loss. The village held nothing for her any longer. The
only person still alive that she'd ever loved was sitting here beside her.
She squeezed Sara's hand and whispered. "I hope we get sold together."
Sara squeezed back and said nothing.
Soon, the little group of houses on the steppe were below the flat horizon.
Tasha realized that she'd never been this far from her birthplace in her
whole life. She felt a small thrill in her tummy. Careful to avoid stepping
on any of the other girls, she stood up in the back of the wagon and looked
out the front, over the driver's shoulder. She could see only the endless
undulating grassland seeming to go on for ever. She wondered if she would
see mountains, or seas, or even deserts for that matter. Her father had read
of these things to her in his Torah but she had never quite believed that
they could actually exist.
That night, after the horses had been fed and watered, the men not assigned
guard duty had come up into the wagon with bowls of mush and skins of strong
wine. The combination proved deadly to the famished girls. Soon, the big
wagon was rocking in the moonlight as the drunken girls vied with each other
for the favor of the men. The girls had learned during their week in the
barn that to please these men was to be fed. With only nine men and eighteen
girls, the competition had become quite lively, and pleasant for all involved.
Tasha and Sara, instead of fighting each other for the man who'd come to sit
between them, were co-operating. They were taking turns giving him pleasure
in ways that would have gotten them tarred and feathered back in their
village. The man in question was the larger of Tasha's two rapists from the
night of the pogrom. He had told them his name was Ivan and that he'd joined
the Tsar's army five years before in order to avoid debtor's prison. He'd
also told them that he'd been the first to sign up when it had been announced
that Brother Kostos needed men to go to Constantinople.
Brother Kostos, Ivan had told them, had prepared himself a bed in the supply
wagon. Afraid to relax amongst the Slavs he did not trust, the monk was
sleeping alone. Ivan chuckled and whispered into Tasha's ear. "I think he's
got gold hidden in that wagon's floor boards, he sure keeps a close watch on
Tasha filed this piece of information away and continued to caress the man's
big red penis.
Ivan was playing it cagey, insisting on holding on to the wine skin. He was
making the girls pay a toll of pleasure for each squirt. Sara, drinking
deeper than Tasha was getting quite drunk. Soon, she was nuzzling Ivan's
ear, her hands busy in his open shirt, toying with his nipples. Tasha, not
to be outdone, continued to slowly pump on the man's organ with one hand
while gently squeezing his hairy nuts with the other. Sara, seeing how stiff
the man had gotten, got up and turned around so that she could straddle his
outstretched legs. Tasha held the man's organ still while Sara lowered
herself down around it's stiffness, then began to worm her longest finger
into the girl's anus as she began to bounce up and down on him.
Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, Sara wrapped her wrist chains
around the back of Ivan's neck and began to fuck him to the best of her
considerable abilities. Tasha stretched her wrist chain over Sara's thigh
and began to finger her erect clitoris, trying to give her as much pleasure
as she could stand.
Ivan gave each of the girls one last squirt from the skin, then laid it aside
so he could fill his hands with Sara's bouncing breasts.
Suddenly, there was a wordless scream from outside that cut off in a wet
gurgle. Before Ivan or the other men in the wagon could disentangle
themselves from the chained girls, the canvas flap at the back of the wagon
was opened to reveal a mob of strange looking men.
Never having seen a Mongol before, Tasha thought that she was looking at
devils out of Hell. She was very nearly right. The Mongol Horde of Chingis
Kahn was the most fearsome thing that the world had ever seen. Twenty years
later, the Mongol Empire would stretch from Vienna to parts of Japan. The
Hordes would have defeated the armies of the known world without a single
lost battle. The Mongol warrior was a master of bow and arrow, saber, lance,
battle axe, mace and lasso. Wearing a hard leather helmet and cuirass, he
could ride his tough little steppe horse further, on less food, faster than
any soldier on Earth.
The men who stood at the open flap of the wagon had, as was their practice,
smeared their faces with black so that they could sneak up better in the
dark. one carried a long curving saber, it's blade dripping with fresh blood.
The men around him carried short but powerful bows. Made from layers of
hardwood, laminated with ivory, the Mongol bow was less than three feet long,
yet, at short range, could drive an arrow right through an iron breast plate.
Ivan threw Sara off of his lap and tried to get to his feet. The little man
with the saber said something and the man beside him loosed an arrow, hitting
Ivan in his open mouth. As the man fell back, Tasha could see how the arrow
had come out the back of his skull. The other men in the wagon died seconds
later, some struck down, trying to flee out the wagon's front, others shot
where they sat, their hands raised in supplication.
The women, still chained down, were thus spared the fate they would have
suffered if they had tried to run.
When the Mongols found out what they had captured, they began to grin. The
empty steppe had thus far failed to provide them with much in the way of
female companionship. Now, suddenly, here was an entire wagon load of
nubile, naked women, their feet and hands already chained to insure their
The squad's officer, the man with the saber, ordered his men to dispose of
the dead, bleeding corpses. While this was being done, not without a lot of
pinching and feeling on the side, the little man stood and looked over the
girls, his interest obvious from the bulge in the front of his loose fitting
Tasha looked at her new master and recognized power. A woman protected by
this man would live far better than one taken by one of the others. She
waited for his gaze to fall on her, then turned slightly to show off her high
conical breasts while at the same time boldly winking at him.
The little man-s eyes widened slightly and a slow grin crept over his
features. Slowly, as if it were the first time he'd tried to do such a
thing, his right eye closed, then opened.
When the men came back, the officer told them to see if they could find the
keys to the locks that held the women's chains to the bar. When none of the
bodies were found to have any keys on them, they began to search the other
wagon. Brother Kostos killed the man who first discovered his hiding place,
then leapt onto a nearby horse and tried to ride away. Before he'd gone even
a horse length, held grown five short arrows out of his back. The ring of
keys was found in his purse.
By this time Tasha and her officer were exchanging names.
"Ta-Sha." She said, pointing to her chest.
"Tasha?" Asked the man. "Ba-Tu.'. He said, pointing to himself.
"Tasha, Batu." Said Tasha, pointing from her to him.
"Batu, Tasha?" He asked, poking his middle finger through a ring formed by
the thumb and fore-finger of his other hand.
Tasha, half drunk and more than a little turned on by the deaths of the monk
and his brutal men, smiled her warmest, then took the little officer's hand
and placed it on her big breast.
Thus it has been since the invention of armies. The inability of a soldier
to speak the language of the local females has never hindered his ability to
get laid. This alone may explain half the wars of history.
Batu grinned broadly and hefted the weight of Tasha's oversized boob. Then,
his fingers captured her erect nipple and felt it's turgid promise of passion
Tasha closed her eyes and hunched her hips forward, opening her knees and
offering herself to his questing hand. Chained and helpless, she knew that
coyness would bring only pain.
Batu traced his fingers down her soft belly until he'd reached her moist
cleft below. Then he'd gently probed her opening, using two fingers in such
a way that Tasha shuddered in growing passion, her eyes opening in surprise
at his skill and gentleness.
When, after a moment, he lifted his dripping fingers to his nose and sniffed
them, a broad grin on his flat face, Tasha knew that she had at long last
found a man who was free of the sexual inhibitions so common among her
countrymen. She smiled her heart felt welcome, then took his hand in hers to
suckle his wet fingers in way that was both pleasurable in it's self and a
promise of better things to come.
The little officer took the key ring from his belt and unlocked Tasha's ankle
chain from the bar. Then, helping Tasha down, he motioned to his men to go
ahead and get into the wagon with the rest of the girls.
With a whoop and a rush, the small squad of Mongol scouts clambered into the
wagon. Tasha counted and saw that, once again, there weren't enough men to
go around. She tugged on the officer's strong arm and said. "Sara, Sara."
Pointing to where Sara sat in the back of the wagon.
"Sara?" Asked the little man.
"Batu, Sara, Tasha!" Said Tasha, poking her middle finger furiously in and
out of her other hand.
Baru got the idea and looked from Tasha to Sara. Both women were smiling
widely. Both were endowed as no women he'd ever seen. His hand returned to
the ring of keys at his belt. In seconds, Sara was down from the wagon and
standing on Batu's other arm. The little officer was in for the longest
night of his life.
In the first light of morning, Bato got up from the nest of sleeping furs
he'd shared with the two girls and walked off to empty his distended bladder.
Tasha lay in the warm furs watching him sleepily. She would never again
think of him as "little". While it was true the man was short of stature, he
made up for that in strength, stamina, and most of all in his indomitable
spirit. She realized that Batu was the "biggest" man she'd ever known,
despite his undersized frame. Now, as she watched him walk naked in the
morning light she realized that his sexual equipment was only proportional to
the rest of him. Last night it had seemed as if he had been splitting her
wide open. He'd felt more fulfilling to her than any man she'd ever known,
including the monster sized cock the Golem had used when he'd finally gotten
around to finishing what he'd started the night he'd kidnapped her.
Walking to the now quiet wagon, Batu opened the canvas flap and looked
inside. Then, chuckling, he motioned to Tasha to come and look. Tasha got
up and carefully covered Sara before shuffling over to where Batu stood at
the wagon's tail gate. Looking inside, she saw the tangle of sleeping men
and women, their faces relaxed in expressions of total contentment, total
satisfaction. Having their ankles chained to the bar had created a few
problems for the girls, but nothing that a little flexibility and a lot of
ingenuity hadn't been able to solve. Grete, cured of her excessive
haughtiness by her week in the barn, was fellating one Mongol while he slept.
Batu laughed again. "Is good, to get men properly fucked." He said in a
tonque that Tasha did not yet understand.
Tasha nodded, guessing his meaning, then nuzzled his ear, breathing warm air
into it as she reached down for his groin with her shackled hands.
Batu let her try, for a minute, to resurrect his limp, over-used organ, then
sighed and shook his head no. Grasping her wrist shackles to let her know
that, for now, the party was over, he called out to his sleeping men,
ordering them to get up and get ready to move out.
A half hour later, the wagon lurched and started off once again, this time
heading almost directly east. Tasha and Sara were back inside, their ankles
once again locked to the bar, sleeping contentedly in each other's arms.
Long before they saw the Mongol camp, they smelled it. Twenty thousand
warriors, their horses and cattle creates quite a stink. The Mongol army,
like all armies of the time did not depend upon supply from home, rather they
moved through carefully scouted routes that gave their cattle and horses
Tasha and the other girls craned their necks to look out the open flap at the
wagon's front. The camp was laid out like a city, with the various tribes
all having their own sections. Broad avenues had been left in a spoke
pattern between the sections of tents. From the height of the ridge, the
girls could see that the spokes all led down to the valley's center where the
tents of the general and his staff were sited in a circle. The Mongols had
learned that to defend an encampment from attack, they needed good internal
communications. Thus, the broad spoke-like avenues. Around the camp's outer
perimeter had been piled thousands of thorn bushes, each one having been
dragged in by a horseman's lariat. This tangled fence not only kept the
cattle and horses in, it kept charging horsemen out.
Dismounting to clear a path through the brambles in battle was a sure
ticket to Hell.
The two wagons and their outriders were met by a close patrol long before
they reached the camp. Tasha and the others sat naked except for their
chains and best smiles while man after man reigned their horses up behind the
wagon so that they could look inside.
Sara, her face split by a wide grin that she wore for the benefit of the
horsemen, asked. "How long do you think it will take to be fucked to death?"
Tasha took time to return the wave of a Mongol then said. "Let's hope that
our efforts last night will make Batu want to keep us for himself."
"Or at least turn us in to his superiors." Said Grete, kneeling beside them
to wave. Grete, shorn of her belief that she was somebody important, had
become like a third musketeer. Between the three of them, they were
endeavoring to keep the rest of the girls alive long enough to escape.
When one of the little horsemen leapt from his saddle to the wagon's
tailgate, the girls jumped back in fright. The grinning man was half way
through the opening when suddenly he disappeared, as if by magic. Tasha
reached out with her shackled hands and lifted the flap to find out what had
happened. The man was down in the dust, being dragged by Batu's lariat on
one ankle. After a few feet, Batu reigned in his mount and slackened the
rope so that the man could free his foot. The message was clear. Look but
As the wagons lumbered down the avenue toward the center of the huge camp,
the Mongols came out by the thousands to get a glimpse of the strange looking
women. Batu, to keep them from fighting at the wagon's tailgate, ordered
that the wagon be stopped and the canvas removed. Then, it's cargo of naked,
chained females exposed for all to see, the wagon resumed it's trip down the
hill. The mob followed, getting denser and more pressing until they passed
into the central ring of tents. At that point, the mob stopped and watched
from the perimeter as the two wagons were taken before the General.
General Subudey, sent by the Great Kahn himself to reconnoiter Russia,
stepped from his tent and stood, his bandy legs spread, his fists on his
hips. On his head was a fur trimmed helmet inlaid with precious stones and
bands of gold. He was covered from chin to ankles in embroidered silk. On
his feet were a pair of gold lame' slippers he'd personally removed from the
feet of a beheaded Persian Prince.
The little General looked up at the young officer and said. "What have you
brought us, my son?"
Batu waved a hand grandly at the still covered wagon and said. "Provisions!
And," His hand swept around to the other wagon. "comfort for our beds!" He
leapt down from his horse and walked to the rear of the slave wagon. Taking
Tasha's hand, he helped her to stand and said. "I have sampled this one,
father, and I would recommend her to the Great Kahn himself."
"Why all the hardware, are you afraid that they might run away?" Asked the
General, looking into Tasha's green eyes with a sense of shock.
"No father, they came to us with these trinkets. We had no tools with which
to remove them." Said Batu, opening the lock between Tasha's feet so she
could turn around.
General Subedey looked up at Tasha's round bottom and whistled. "Where in
this empty land did you find such a treasure?" He asked, his hand going up to
caress Tasha's soft calf.
"A small caravan moving south west on a track about twenty miles west of
here. From what I've been able to learn from the girls, they come from a
village about a day's walk north east of where we found them." Said Batu,
helping Sara to stand up beside Sara.
"But that means that the village is within reach of a raid." Said the
General, suddenly excited. Thus far, Russia had been nothing but endlessly
empty steppe. The few nomads that they had seen had always been making for
the horizon as fast as they could go. Now, here was evidence of a human
settlement. A town to loot, people to enslave, cattle and horses to steal,
grain to feed his soldiers during the coming winter.
The General turned his eyes from the naked girls and looked at his son. "To
honor you for finding this town, I hereby order you to lead the attack." He
clasped the young officer to his breast and kissed him passionately.
Batu grinned at his father and said in a loud voice. I will make you proud,
my father." Then in a quieter tone said. "I meant what I said about the red
haired one. I spent the night with her and the one beside her. Between the
two of them, I could hardly get on my horse this morning."
"That good ha?" Chuckled the General, looking up at Tasha. "With that hair
and those eyes, I wouldn't have thought she was human."
"She's not nearly so ugly in the dark." Laughed Batu, slapping Tasha's rump
in a proprietary way. "What she lacks in beauty, she makes up for in
enthusiasm. My Gods, I thought she'd never let me sleep."
"I don't suppose they speak any civilized tongue?"
"None that I've ever heard." Said Batu lifting Tasha down from the wagon.
"Oh, by the way, before you have these chains struck off, you should take
them to your furs with them on. I don't understand it, but somehow the
chains made the sex better, despite always being in the way."
"A helpless slave girl is always better to her master than a free one." Said
the General, thinking that he should repeat the line to a scribe. Confucian
thought was important to his stature within his world. It would never do to
forget such a truth after having had the revelation.
Batu took the ring of keys from his belt and handed them to his father. "I
leave now to prepare my attack. When I return, I will bring many more slaves
and much more loot."
"Be sure to instruct your men to spare as many as possible." Said the
General, handing the ring of keys over to his head eunuch, a huge Persian
that he'd acquired the same day and in the same way he'd gotten his slippers.
"And not just females, we will need manpower to take any large cities we
might find in this God forsaken place.
Batu spent the rest of that day picking the force he would take to attack the
village. Tasha saw him passing this way and that several times but he was
always too busy to notice her. She, like the rest of the girls, had no idea
what was happening, but she could tell that something important was going on.
Men were running in and out, carrying messages, relaying orders. Out in the
camp, men were saddling their mounts, seeing to their weapons, forming up
into groups. Then, just about sunset, about a quarter of the men in the huge
camp began to ride out onto the ridge that stood on the camp's west side.
Tasha, not knowing about things military, could not appreciate the subtleties
of what she was seeing. The Mongol force, selected with skill by Batu,
consisted of two parts. Light cavalry, armed with their short bows and
agility, and heavy cavalry, armed with pikes, sabers and battle axes.
This combination of forces proved effective against every enemy the Mongols
ever met. The light cavalry would act as a bull's horns, cutting and
slashing through the enemy's muscles. The heavy cavalry would act like the
bull it's self, driving inexorably forward, toward the enemy's body, crushing
all before it as it came.
The basic Mongol tactic was one they'd perfected while hunting on the plains
of Mongolia. There, the tribes would gather and conduct "Great Battues".
Huge hunts in which tens of thousands of horsemen would surround an area
sometimes as large as ten thousand square miles. Then, the circle would
close, each commander keeping in touch with the Great Kahn using messengers,
flashing mirrors, smoke signals, and even, in later years, rockets.
When all the game had been driven into a tight, panic stricken pack,
surrounded by thousands of horsemen, each holding on to lengths of rope to
form a continuous fence, the Great Kahn would ride in and begin to slaughter
the trapped animals.
When hunting armies, they changed little, having discovered that most armies
of the day consisted of little more than armed mobs. On those few occasions
that their prey had proved too strong for them, they would pretend to
retreat. The enemy would usually then break ranks and chase after them, only
to find the agile circle re-forming around them and, shortly after, death.
Tasha and the others knew none of this. No-one in Russia yet did. So
effective were the Mongol tactics, so fast their movement westward, that
there hadn't even been refugees to warn the people in their path. Insulated
from any of the major trading routes, Mother Russia was lying recumbent,
awaiting the Mongol rape that was to go on for over four hundred years.
Most of the girls had spent the afternoon pleasantly. Guarded by three huge
beardless men, they'd been taken down to the stream to bathe. As strong as
the Mongol camp had smelled to them, they'd smelled worse to the Mongols.
Never having heard of the eastern practice of making eunuchs of household
slaves, the girls had not understood why these three men alone of all in the
camp hadn't shown any interest in their naked bodies. Then, one of the
younger, more foolish girls had made the mistake of trying to get the largest
man's attention by playfully grabbing his sex.
When her hand had found nothing where there should have been something, she'd
shouted in surprise before she'd had time to think. Then, to make things
worse for herself, she'd laughed in delight at the concept of a gelded man.
When the eunuch, who'd taken the name Capon, had knocked the girl down with a
cuff to the side of her head, then tied her into a punishment position, she
and the others had learned that even gelded Mongols were to be treated with
The girl learning the lesson most directly, had been tied into a tightly
folded ball, one of the Mongol's favorite punishment positions. Her wrist
shackles had first been passed down, under her feet, then brought up to the
middle of her back. Then, her ankle chains had been brought up, over her
head and fastened down to the wrist chain with a short piece of rope. The
girl's discomfort would have been bad enough, just sitting there on the
ground, but then Capon had tied a second rope around her hips and hung her
up, head downward, under a tripod so that her sex was uppermost, exposed for
all to see. Worse, she'd soon discovered, was that her sex had been exposed
to the hot summer sun.
When, after three hours, the guard had let the girl down, she'd found that
she could not straighten up, even after he'd untied her. She'd waddled back
to her friends with her knees held wide and her back muscles feeling as if
they were on fire. Between her thighs, her exposed sex had gotten a mild
sunburn that would effect her walk, and her love making for several days.
Back at the tent that had been set up for the harem, the girls had been given
food and wine which they'd torn into with gusto since their last meal had
been the night before. The food, while strange, had been better than any of
the girls had ever had. Crispy noodles, covered with a highly seasoned meat
When supper had been over, the General had come in, still dressed in his
embroidered silks. Tasha could see a brilliant colored dragon on the man's
breast. She wondered if such an animal existed in the land from which these
strange men came.
The General spoke to the eunuch, nodding toward Tasha. The guard walked over
to where Tasha sat on a cushion and took a hold on the chain between her
wrists. Pulling her to her feet, the guard brought her over to stand before
the little General. Pulling her hands high, the eunuch offered her for his
The General spent several minutes inspecting Tasha's big breasts, hefting
their weight, noting their youthful defiance of the laws of gravity,
inspecting how quickly her nipples became erect under his gentle fingers.
Tasha stood, her hands held high, and wondered if this man would turn out to
be as strong and virile as Batu had been. Fooled by his diminutive stature,
Tasha had been in Batu's furs before she'd realized just how muscular and
well proportioned the man had been.
The General's hands, having teased Tasha's long nipples out to a state of
sensitized erection, trailed down her flanks, giving her shivers of
anticipation as they moved down to grip her round buttocks. Pulling her
forward, he nuzzled her breasts, sticking his face between them and inhaling
her body's fresh washed odor. Before he let her go, one hand moved around to
her loins and fingered her sex. He nodded with approval as Tasha spread her
legs to the limit of her ankle chain, then bent her knees slightly to further
expose her sex to him.
Tasha had learned in the barn that coyness in slave girls is seldom rewarded.
If this man wanted to inspect her, he would surely do so. Playing the kinds
of games that free women play with their suitors would bring only pain.
Tasha was intending to survive, therefore she was saving any resistance she
might make until she might have a chance to escape. As long as she wore the
iron shackles on her wrists and ankles, she had no such chance. Therefore,
she was his to do with as he pleased.
When, after several minutes of increasingly intimacy, his fingers came away
dripping with her vaginal wetness, he delicately lifted them to his nose and
inhaled her scent. Tasha blushed even deeper than before, then broke up into
giggles as she heard Sara breaking up behind her. Sara knew, having been
between Tasha's thighs many times, just what the General was smelling.
The little General looked from Tasha to Sara and grinned. He then said
something to the eunuch that the girls could not understand. Tasha felt her
hands being drawn down and held behind her head so that her wrist chain was
stretched across the back of her neck. The little General produced a short
strap which he threaded through her wrist cuffs and then buckled under her
chin, trapping her hands next to her ears.
while Tasha was discovering how totally useless her hands had become, the
General was producing two small gold clamps for her nipples. Made so that
the harder they were pulled, the tighter they would pinch, the clamps hung
heavily on Tasha's erect nipples in such a way to tell her of worse things to
come. Hooking a connecting chain between these little horrors, the General
pulled gently so she would know what it would feel like. Tasha instantly
knew that she would go wherever these things went, without the slightest
resistance. Between her thighs, she felt her sex swell open, beginning to
ache for something she was certain would not be long in coming.
Again, the General spoke to his eunuch. Again the assembled girls waited to
see what the orders had been. The Eunuch walked to where Sara stood and
grasped her wrist chain in his huge fist. The General grinned and started
out of the tent, Tasha's nipples in tow. Sara followed, giggling, being led
by her wrist shackles.
Two minutes later, the General's staff came into the tent. The remaining
girls giggled and posed seductively, knowing that to do otherwise was to risk
being turned over to the horde of sex starved soldiers out in the camp. The
young officers smiled back and moved in for the kill.
The evening of the third day a messenger rode into the camp on a lathered
horse. Batu had taken the village almost without loss of life. Sweeping
down upon it at dawn, they'd caught even the garrison troops in their beds.
The slave coffels, herds, and pack trains of supplies were being force
marched toward the camp and would arrive early the next day.
Tasha and Sara lay in the General's sleeping furs, watching and trying to
understand what was going on around them. As a reward for their efforts in
the General's behalf, they had each been given a small silk loin cloth with
which to cover her nakedness. Sara's was black, to match her raven hair.
Tasha's was green, to contrast with her red tresses. They had also been
given brushes, combs, perfumes and make-up. When the General had seen that
they had never before heard of these last two, he'd sent for the head eunuch
to teach them. Now, as they lay in the soft furs, their chains having become
as natural to them as their semi-nudity, Sara was busy rouging Tasha's
Tasha spoke quietly so as to avoid disturbing the conference the General was
having with his staff. "Do you think there is going to be a battle?"
Sara paused, the rouge brush poised over Tasha's nipple, and said. "Sure
looks like something's going on. I think I heard Batu's name a couple of
"Do you think we'll get to entertain Batu again?" Tasha asked, wistfully.
The General had proved himself to be his son's father, exhibiting nearly as
much stamina, and twenty years more experience. But for all that, Tasha
could not forget the long, wonderful night the three of them had spent
together out on the open steppe. Batu had been like a wild stallion,
unquenchable, driving, gentle at times, rough without being hurtful at others.
Batu had known, from the beginning, that Tasha and Sara were lovers. Instead
of being shocked, he'd encouraged them to express their love for each other
in ways that, in their former world would have condemned them to tar and
feathers. Then, just when the two lovers had been nearing the climax of
their shared passion, he'd come and filled the aching emptiness they'd always
known, but had never thought could be helped.
The General, on the other hand, was less ardent, but even more demanding.
Sex with him was a feast of pleasures. Pleasures so intense that Tasha had
wondered at times if she would die. Spiced with both his great skills as a
lover, and by his sense of fun, the love making had been wonderous.
The difference between the two men, Tasha realized, was that while the father
was a highly skilled technician, the son was a natural artist.
Sara was just finishing Tasha's second nipple when a second rider come
pounding down the slope toward the central ring of tents, this time from the
North. The General turned from his map table and walked to where the
messenger waited. "What news?" He asked the prone man.
"A large body of men approach from the north." The man said, getting up to
his knees. "We don't yet know their exact numbers or composition, but I was
ordered to tell you that they could be as many as thirty thousand. Perhaps
as many as ten percent mixed cavalry, the rest poorly drilled pike squares."
The General turned back to his map table. "Can you show me where they are
The messenger got to his feet and walked to the map. His finger went to a
point less than a day's march to the North of the camp.
"Your Commander was sure that they were marching in this direction?" The
General asked, his eyes sharp on the messenger's face.
"My Commander said that if they changed their line of march he would send
word." The man said.
The General smiled. outnumbered two to one, his best units off gathering
slaves with Batu, he was, nevertheless, thinking that the omens were good.
He gazed at the map for several seconds, then reached out with his baton and
tapped a spot five miles to the north of the camp. "This will be the killing
ground." He said. "You and your heavies will wait for my signal within
these woods." He said to the Commander of his remaining heavy cavalry.
"You," He continued, turning to the Commander of his lights. "will take
half the lights and wait out here, on the enemy's left. The country lacks
cover on that side, so you will have to stay well back to avoid being
discovered too soon."
"Sir," Said the Commander. "I have scouted that area. The land is open, but
it is cut be many gullies. If I have my men dismount and stand beside their
horses, they won't be seen, yet we will still be within five minutes from the
point I would expect to make contact with their flank."
"Good." Said the General. "I will keep the other half of the lights with me.
We will fake an attack at their front as they are breasting this low ridge."
He indicated a point a mile north of his killing ground. "When they drive
us back, we will lead them between your two forces. I will send up rockets
when I want you to charge. I expect the lights to hold them from running
away, while the heavies roll up their right flank."
The General stepped back from the map table and turned to face his two
Commanders. "We will be outnumbered two to one. Tell your men to give no
quarter until there is no longer any threat."
The two men saluted and left to prepare their units for battle.
The two nearly naked slave girls watched with avid interest. If what they
were watching turned out to be preparations for a battle, their lives would
be as much at stake as anyone's. "Tasha," Sara whispered. "do you think
there is going to be a battle?"
"The Tsar must have sent his army." Said Tasha, watching as the General was
helped into his body armor.
"Do you think there is any chance we'll be rescued?"
Tasha snorted at this and said. "None at all. We might be taken as loot,
but never rescued'."
"Do YOU think there is much danger of that happening?"
"Only if the Tsar has sent a very large army."
The armor that the general was putting on was made of glistening saddle
leather. Consisting of pre-formed breast and back plates, the armor was
light but still offered some protection in battle. Like all Mongols, the
General felt more comfortable if he were agile than if he were completely
covered in Iron like the European knights of his day.
In addition to the body armor, the General wore thick leather shin and thigh
guards. On his head he wore a pointed iron hat trimmed in black fur and
bands of gold. At his waist he buckled a sword belt that carried a long
curving saber that, had she not known of his strength, Tasha would have
thought too heavy for him to swing.
Instead of one of the tough little steppe horses that the Mongols always
rode, the General mounted up on a huge white Arabian stallion. He would have
preferred the steppe horse, but rode the Arabian so he could be seen better
by his troops. Then, without even a glance at Tasha, the Little General rode
out to take his place at the head of his assembled men.
LADIES IN WAITING
The two chained slave girls got to their feet and shuffled out to where they
could watch the General ride up the hill toward the head of his troops.
Capon came over and stood behind them, gently grasping each by her elbow. As
soon as the General was out of sight over the hill to the camp's North, he
carefully propelled them across the open area in the middle of the ring,
toward the harem tent, going slowly so that their chained feet could keep up.
Having seen Greta and some of the other girls walking openly around the
central camp area, fully dressed, their hands and feet free of the chains,
Tasha and Sara were not surprised when they entered the harem tent. They had
decided, one long afternoon when the General had been too busy for them, that
they wore the chains simply because it pleased their master that they do so.
There was just no other explanation. At first, Sara had thought it was
because they were both taller that the little General, but Tasha had laughed
and said. "Right, the two of us are going to overpower him. Do you honestly
think he couldn't handle us, even if we didn't have these things on?"
Sara had laughed with her at the thought. The little General might be small
in stature, like most of his countrymen, but he was stronger by far than the
both of them put together. "Maybe he's afraid we'll attack him in his
sleep." She'd then said, not believing it even for a second.
Tasha laughed and said. "Now you're just being silly. These chains wouldn't
stop us from doing that, see?" She quickly wrapped her wrist chain around
Sara's throat and began to pretend she was choking her friend. The two girls
had wrestled, qiggling and struggling in the furs until total exhaustion had
forced them to stop, their limbs intertwined, their naked bodies hot with
After a few moments spent getting her breath, Sara had kissed Tasha full on
the mouth and said. "Perhaps he is afraid we will run away while he's
Tasha had caressed Sara's sweating breasts and answered. "If I remove your
chains, where will you run? Which way?" Her chain linked hands waved in a
circle around the huge camp full of sex starved men. And if you do make it
that far, how are you going to get through that fence up there?" She nodded
up at the tangled wall of thorn bushes that surrounded the camp. "Can you
Sara shivered to think of being a naked fugitive running across the empty
steppe, pursued by the Mongol horsemen. .Do you think he will ever free us?
Will we wear these things for the rest of our lives?"
"Yes, I think our master will have these chains struck off. Just as soon as
it pleases him to do so." Tasha had said, gathering Sara into her protective
arms. Then whispering, she'd continued. "Then, we'll see about our escape."
Once Capon had delivered his charges to the guard in charge of the harem
tent, he left, looking for something to eat.
Grete got up from where she was lounging and came over to where the two girls
stood. Beautifully gowned in a red silk robe so sheer that she might as well
have been naked, Grate said. "Thank God, we were afraid that old pig was
going to keep you over there forever."
"Don't call him that." Sara said in a frightened whisper. "Someone might
understand and then you'd be punished."
"These savages don't understand Russian, none of them." Said Grete, with a
girlish laugh. "Watch. Hey Kazim, do you like to eat my shit?" She called
to the guard standing watch at the tent's opening.
The big man smiled and nodded.
"His name is Kazim?" Asked Tasha.
"Yes, and the one that stands guard at night is called Tabo." Said Grete.
"Kazim and Tabo." Sara said trying to get the foreign sounds right. "The
guard that stayed with us over at the General's tent is called Capon."
"How did you get them to strike off your chains?" Tasha asked, rattling hers.
"Oh, they did that the first night we were here. Marched us all over to the
smithy and had them removed. They seemed to think they made us too clumsy
when we were serving them." Said Grete, looking closer at Tashals breasts.
"What is that on your nipples?" She asked, intrigued.
"The General gave it to us. It's called rouge. It's to make them look red."
"Does it hurt?" Greta asked, her fingers going up to touch Tasha's protruding
"No," Said Sara, giggling. "It's like paint. It's to make her more
"Attractive to the General?" Asked Grate, her fingers toying with the nipple
"And to us." Said Sara, taking Tasha's other nipple in her fingers and
pinching it playfully. "By the way, where did you girls get those beautiful
"Yes", Said Tasha, extracting her nipples from their fingers. "we've been
naked so long now that it doesn't even feel strange any more, but it sure
would be nice to dress up once again."
"Especially in something as beautiful as that dress you're wearing." Said
Sara, turning Greta around so she could look at the way the cloth let just
enough light shine through to tease the eye into thinking it was seeing more
than it was.
Greta turned back to the guard. "Hey, Kazim. Gowns?" She said, using the
Chinese word and gestures to pantomime someone getting dressed.
Kazim laughed and shook his head "no". Then, as an explanation, he
pantomimed someone trying to put chained hands into sleeves.
"I guess he means that until the General has your irons removed you won't be
able to wear anything but those charming little loin cloths." Greta said.
Then brightening, she turned back to the guard and said. "Kazim?" While
pantomiming placing cloaks over the qirl's shoulders.
The huge guard walked over to where the three girls stood. With a wide grin,
he yanked first Tasha's loin cloth off, then Sara's. Then turning to Greta,
he opened the front of her gown and slipped off of her shoulders so that it
fell in a heap around her bare feet. Ten minutes later, the three girls
found themselves hanging in a line from three tripods set up in the sun
outside the harem tent.
Tasha would have commented that asking for clothing must be against the
rules, but the tight strip of black silk that had been Sara's loin cloth had
been knotted in the middle and tied into her mouth. She twisted in her up
side down bondage and looked at Sara. The bright green silk of Tasha's loin
cloth had been used to gag her in the same way. Twisting back the other way,
Tasha saw that Grete had been gagged with something even more objectionable.
A big red wooden ball pierced with a short length of rope had been tied into
her mouth so that her jaws were stretched as wide as possible.
Tied into the same shaming, exposed positions as had the girl down by the
river, the three waited for the bright summer sun to crawl across the
cloudless sky. About the only thing that Tasha could find to be thankful for
was that the camp was very nearly empty. Except for the twenty male slaves
of the General's commissary, and the three Eunuchs, the huge camp was
The other girls had all watched in horror as the luckless three had been
prepared for punishment. The fifteen young women had come to see Tasha,
Sara, and to a lessor degree Grete as their leaders, almost as mothers.
Tasha and Sara had begun by trying to save Ulna. For hours on end, when they
hadn't been "entertaining" the Golem or his men, they'd talked to the
shivering, huddled girl, trying to make her see that rape was not, after all,
a fate worse than death. They'd tried every way they could think of to make
ulna see that life was all there is, that what was happening to them could be
Grete, at this time had been keeping the Guards and Golem busy, breaking her
of the haughtiness that had always made her Tasha's enemy. After two days
she'd spent in a stall down at the end of the barn, servicing both the Golem
and his squad of brutal guards, Grete had been brought back to where the
others could see what they had been doing to her. Her skin striped by whip
marks from neck to knees, her lips puffed up and bleeding, her arms stretched
out to a long bar that had been tied across the back of her shoulders, Grete
had been lead out, stumbling along, helpless to fight the twin leashes that
they'd tied to the hog rings they'd pierced through her nipples.
When the Golem had gotten Grete to a position directly in front of the big
barn doors, he'd pushed her down onto her back and, one at a time, tied her
big toes up to her nipple leashes so that to kick was to hurt herself
horribly. When the Golem had been done, Grete's feet had been less than a
foot above her stretched, cone shaped breasts. She'd been rendered totally
helpless and completely exposed. Then, he'd opened the big doors and called
out to the gathered Slavs. "Come, Fuck Jew bitch. She fuck all, one man,
two mans, all mans. She all ready. She no fight."
Grete had lain there, helpless to even try to close herself to the line of
Slav men and boys that had formed. For the rest of that day and most of that
night, Grete had remained on the floor just inside the doors, her every kick
pulling on her bleeding nipples, her open sex being used by every Slav male
who could get his cock hard.
By the break of dawn, two things had happened. Grete had been cured for life
of the haughtiness that had made her Tasha's life long enemy, and Helen had
been so panic stricken that she'd pulled her skinny hands and feet out of her
shackles, leaving considerable skin and more than a little blood behind.
The deaths, in that next twenty four hours, of two of her girls, Helen and
Ulna, had made Tasha decide to try and nurse Grete back to health. It had
been while she'd been doing that, that she'd discovered how much she'd come
to like the girl who had always been her worst enemy.
Now, as she dangled under the Mongol tripod, she tried not to think about
what the hot sun was doing to her open, un-tanned sex.
Kazim came after a time, to check the three girls for damage. When he saw
what the hot sun was doing to the red haired Tasha, he rigged a sun shield to
the apex of her tripod. Sara and Grete, on the other hand, were being
protected by their thick patches of black pubic fur. To insure equal
punishment, he produced a fistful of short sharp sticks which he used to prop
open their outer, fur covered labia, exposing their inner, un-haired lips to
the burning sun. Then, because he wanted to be fair, he propped open Tasha's
sex also, even though she was now in shade.
Again the eunuch walked away, leaving the girls to swing under their tripods.
The sun seemed to crawl on it's trip toward the western horizon. Now, in
addition to the pitiless sun and the discomfort of their positions, there
came a horde of flies, attracted by the passion scent the women could not
help but produce. No mater how the three girls struggled and jerked on the
ropes that supported them, there was simply no way to protect themselves from
the maddening tickle and inflaming bites of the swarming flies.
Sometime later, Tasha was never to know how long, Kazim returned, brushed
away the cloud of flies around Grete's upended sex, removed the prop sticks
and bent his face down to nuzzle her like a dog cleaning out an oil jar.
Tasha twisted around to watch, hoping to distract herself from her own
trouble. Kazim was humming deep in his throat as he pressed his beardless
face down into Grete's opening. At the same time, his hands were busy,
toying with her hog ring pierced nipples. Grete's wood blocked mouth was
screaming in helpless passion as she thrust her hips again and again against
the eunuch's questing tongue.
Deprived of his sexual urges, Kazim liked to force others to experience what
he no longer could. Power was not as good as sex had been, but it was all he
Then, just as Grete was reaching the heights of orgasmic passion, Kazim
withdrew his face and replaced the two sharp pointed sticks that held her
swollen labia open, leaving Grete going insane with unfulfilled passion.
Ignoring Grete's gag blocked cries of entreaty, Kazim turned to where Tasha
hung, her upended body almost as turned on as Grete's. Brushing the swarming
flies away, Kazim proceeded to do to Tasha what held just done to Grete. At
that moment, if Tasha had possessed the magic to completely escape her bonds,
she would not have used it. Kazim's tongue delving into her inflamed pussy
seemed soothe the fires left by the hot sun and the fly bites. It slid down
into her like a snake, twisting this way and that, reaching deep into her
every crevice, her every throbbing nerve ending.
Even though Tasha knew that Kazim intended to leave her, as he had left
Grete, just when she would need him most, she could not keep her body from
responding to him.
Helpless to fight in any way, Tasha had been taken to heights of passion
beyond even the rapture she'd known with Batu. Thus, when Kazim had pulled
away, she felt as if she were floating in space, her entire world lost to
her. It was as if she were a new born, her eyes seeing, yet at the same time
blind. Her body was useless to her, unable to provide it's self with what it
needed to live. Again, she heard the sounds of a trapped animal. Again, she
realized that those sounds were coming from her.
By the time Tasha had been able to bring her eyes to focus, Kazim was up to
his ears in Sara's inflamed pussy. Then, she saw that the twenty male
commissary slaves had come out to watch the fun.
When Sara was as turned on as the other two, Kazim replaced her prop sticks
and walked away, whistling a happy little tune.
The commissary slaves moved in, wordlessly forming tight circles around the
three tripods. Tasha found her vision restricted to a circle of hairy legs,
above which was a second circle of hard cocks, being pumped by hurried fists.
Ten minutes later, Kazim returned to find the three girls quite alone, except
for the buzzing flies, their inverted bodies covered with dripping ropes of
Laughing merrily, as if he had just played a wonderful joke on them, he began
getting them down. Carrying the three still helplessly folded women back
into the tent like luggage, he at last allowed the other girls to assist
their three leaders. In all the time that the three had been hanging under
the tripods, the other girls had been under the watchful eyes of Tabo. They
had been forced to watch everything, sitting in a row on the cushions within
their tent, forbidden to even call out to their friends. It had been made
quite clear that any infraction of these rules would have gotten a fourth
tripod set up.
As the girls hurried to get soap and hot water to wash off the filth left by
the commissary slaves, the three victims of Kazim's trick were taking care of
more pressing business. Sara, once she'd gotten her shackled hands down
under her ass and legs, turned and fell upon Tasha. Tasha, caught with her
chained wrists still down behind her knees, was rolled over onto her back and
attacked is if she were something to be eaten, alive. Kneeling astride
Tasha's face, Sara pulled her chain hobbled feet up and over, positioning
them under her right armpit so that she would have unrestricted access to
Tasha's swollen, burning sex. Both women began to scream with passion as
they licked and nuzzled the other. Grete waited in squirming impatience as
her bands and feet were being untied, then fell to masturbating, not caring
that the fifteen younger girls and three eunuchs were watching, the girls
with wide eyes, the eunuchs with shouts of encouragement.
In less than a minute, all three of the young women exploded into orgasm so
violent that Tasha and Greta were left senseless. Sara, just barely
conscious, rolled off of Tasha and smiled up at the circle of shocked faces
that had gathered. "Oh God I needed that!" She said, dropping into a stupor
of post coital bliss.
When Tasha again became aware of what was going on, she was being bathed.
The younger girls were being gentle as they scrubbed at the dried on cum
tracks that covered her from head to toes. By the time the three were all
cleaned up, Tabo had brought two long, brightly colored pieces of silk.
Motioning for her to stand up and raise her hands above her head, he wrapped
the cloth around Tasha's body so that she was covered from just under her
arms down to just above her knees. When he tucked the end of this wrap down
into her cleavage Tasha found herself clothed for the first time since she'd
been stripped and shackled back in the barn.
Dinner that night was like a party. The commissary slaves, as an apology for
their part in Kazim's trick, had outdone themselves, cooking the best dinner
yet. Dish after dish of Chinese delicacies prepared by the General's own
cook. There were five different kinds of egg rolls, each with a different
sauce. There were soups, beef dishes, wild foul dishes, three different
kinds of wine. For desert, they brought in a tray of sweet cakes that had
been made with Cannabis Indica baked right in.
Sara lay back, her belly distended so much that she looked four months
pregnant. "If they keep feeding us like that, we'll end up as fat and jolly
as Kazim here." She leaned over and picked up one last egg roll.
Tasha licked some of the hot mustard off of her fingers and downed the last
of her wine. "Why do you suppose everything seems so funny?" She said
marveling at the way her hand worked.
"What's funny?" Asked Sara, giggling.
"Don't you feel funny?" Asked Tasha, looking into Sara's eyes.
"I don't know what you mean, funny." Said Sara. "I know that I feel better
right now than I've ever felt . . . when not making love."
"But that's just it." Said Tasha, giggling. "I feel like I were making love
right now. No, I feel like I felt this afternoon, just after me made love.
Why are your eyes getting so red?"
"My eyes aren't as red as yours, I bet." Giggled Sara.
From there, the conversation quickly deteriorated into a wild pillow fight
that spread, before it was over to involve even the three eunuchs.
Some time after that, Tasha lifted her head from the pillows and asked.
"Kazim, when come General Sududey?" Using the pidgin Mongol she'd picked up
in her three days with the General.
Kazim shrugged, smiled and asked, using the same pidgin. "Why care you? Want
Tasha grinned and said. "Batu, when come Batu?"
Kazim pointed to the East and said. "Batu come with sun." Then he pointed to
the slave girls and said. "Bring many more slaves. man slaves, woman slaves,
"Did you get that?" Asked Tasha of Grete.
"Sure, he said that Batu is coming in the morning, and that he is bringing in
a lot of new slaves, men, women and children."
"But that must mean they've attacked our village!" Said Sara. "Batu only
left three days ago. There isn't anywhere else close enough."
The women fell into an excited chatter, speculating about what must have
happened when Batu's five thousand men had come sweeping down upon the
village. Un-fortified because there had been no threat from the empty
steppe, the village could have mustered perhaps five hundred fighting men.
Outnumbered by at least ten to one, caught totally unprepared, there could be
no doubt what had happened then. The excited chatter went long into the
night, the eighteen captive girls wondering what the dawn would bring.
Tabo kicked Kazim's foot to wake him. Outside, the sun was just clearing the
ridge to the east. The big eunuch disentangled himself from the three girls
who'd fallen asleep around him and got unsteadily to his feet. "Oh, my
head." He said in a low voice.
Tasha, sleeping off to one side with Sara, opened her eyes, winced and lifted
her head from Sarals pillow-like breast.
Kazim and Tabo were talking quietly as Kazim pulled on his silk pantaloons.
"Capon just fired the signal rocket. That means that Batu and his party will
be here in less than an hour." Said Tabo.
"Get the commissary slaves up and started on breakfast. I'll see to getting
the girls ready." Said Kazim.
"Breakfast has been ready for an hour. Get the girls ready as fast as you
can, we'll need them to help with the new ones."
Tasha, understanding little except that Batu was coming, got up and shuffled
out to the latrine pit at the end of the tent. With her hands chained, she
found handling the silk wrap impossible. So as she walked back into the
tent, she was still naked. Sara looked up from her cushions and said,
sleepily. "God, you are beautiful."
"Quick, get up." Tasha said, holding out the cloth, asking for help getting
it back on. "Batu's coming."
Sara scrambled up, her wrap falling away because it had come loose in the
night. "Oh, my head." She said, trying to both help Tasha to cover herself
and at the same time cop a feel.
Ten minutes later, the first horsemen came over the ridge at the camp's west
side. The girls lined up before their tent and watched as three columns
approached the camp. Sitting up on his little steppe horse, Batu led the
center column. Behind him and his personal guard walked the captured
villagers. Numbering almost three thousand people, the captives had been
divided into three groups. Men, who walked naked in bondage, their hands
tied behind their backs, their necks linked in long rope coffles. Women and
children who'd been left the scraps of clothing in which they'd been
captured, being herded along by horsemen armed with lengths of knotted rope.
And those nubile young girls who'd been pulled out of the general herd for
the pleasure and enrichment of the Mongol officers. Most of these last had
been stripped during the rapes that they'd suffered during capture and on the
trail. In addition, many also wore large wooden chengs as punishment for
resisting these rapes.
Batu, having learned from Capon that his father had gone into battle, was
anxious to settle the slaves down under a guard and go to help with as many
men as could be spared. "Put the men over there and mount a guard." He
ordered one of his officers. Then, to another, he said. "You will be in
charge of the women and children. See that they are fed and watered, but
make sure they stay away from the men" To a third young officer, he said.
"Take the harem girls down and put them with the girls I brought in last
time. It will help to settle them down a little if they mix with more
experienced girls." Then, leaving a force of five hundred men to guard the
slaves, Batu hurriedly formed up the remainder of his men and rode away to
As the coffle of naked young women stumbled into the central ring of tents,
Tasha saw that many of them were nearing total collapse. Most had been
raped, at least once, some several times.
Perhaps a third of the girls had earned the punishment of chengs.
Constructed of lumber torn down from their own houses before the village had
been burned, the chengs were portable prisons that the captives were forced
to carry on their own shoulders. Pegged together around the captives throat,
the cheng consisted of a wooden barrier between the prisoner's head and
hands. It deprived them of the ability to either feed or water themselves,
or for that matter to even lie down. Once chenged, the prisoner was
dependent upon her captor for everything. Without help, she would die of
exhaustion and thirst in a matter of days. On the other hand, she could be
forced to march long distances, work, or even be used sexually, if her captor
were so inclined.
The halting, jerking coffle of exhausted young women followed the horseman
who held the lead rope into the ring of tents. Tasha could see that some of
the girls were so tired that their knees looked as if they'd turned to
rubber. When the officer finally stopped his horse and dismounted, the line
of girls sat down, without being ordered. Most, Tasha could see, hadn't even
noticed where they were. They simply sat there, their eyes dead, their
Seeing that they were in desperate need of water, Tasha went to the harem
tent's water bag and lifted it down. Shuffling out among the new prisoners,
she began giving drinks to those lucky enough not to be gagged. The other
Jewish girls, seeing this, went to other tents and got water bags also.
The young officer who'd led the coffle into the ring talked quietly with
Capon. As Master of the Harem, Capon would be responsible for the training
of the new girls. The Mongols knew that these girls would be a different
thing than the ones Hato had brought in before. Tasha and her girls had come
to them already well broken to slavery. These new girls were raw captives.
If they could be properly broken, they might become true slaves, and thus
valuable. Otherwise, they would have to be destroyed. The Mongols loved the
luxuries that a well broken slave girl could provide for her master, but they
also understood the dangers. They had no desire to be found one morning,
dead of a slit throat. Like the electric gadgets of a later day, slaves had
to be handled properly or they were dangerous.
The Mongol attitude toward slaves, and for that matter, toward the world in
general, was one of benign tolerance, to all who accepted their authority.
On the other hand, they were capable of extreme cruelty to anyone stupid
enough to resist them. This carrot and stick policy served them so well that
their empire lasted for six hundred years, changing forever all of human
"Concentrate on identifying, isolating and punishing troublemakers." Ordered
the young officer. "The rest might be left to the wagon girls."
"There is nothing like a contented slave girl to calm down new recruits."
Said Capon, trying not to point out that he had taught the youth everything
he knew about handling slaves.
Seeing that more than half the new captives had now been watered, Capon
called to Kazim and Tabo to begin testing which of the new girls were now
ready to be released from the coffle.
Moving out among the girls, the two eunuchs examined each carefully.
According to how they were tied, each had been categorized. Those that had
simply had their throats tied into the coffle rope were the ones who'd caused
no trouble at all. The ones wearing chengs were those who'd resisted the
rapes that had been a part of their capture. A few had also earned the
additional punishment of having their hands tied behind their backs. The
most recalcitrant of the girls had also had knotted rope gags tied into their
For now, the eunuchs concentrated on the girls who'd caused no trouble at
all. Being experienced slave handlers, they knew that some of these were
only faking submission, waiting for a chance to try to either escape or
revolt. They moved from girl to girl, testing each by watching their eyes as
they reached down and intimately caressed them between the legs. Any sign of
resistance was rewarded with the girl's hands being tied together behind her
back. Those girls who accepted the caress were released from the coffle rope
and turned over to a pair of Tasha's girls to be taken to the smithy to be
riveted into wrist shackles.
When all of these girls had been either bound or shackled, the eunuchs turned
their attention to the girls wearing chenqs. Again, the test was a gentle,
intimate caress between the girl's legs. Those that had been broken by the
chengs accepted this as part of being a slave. These were sent to the black
smith for shackles, then to the carpenter for release from the chengs. Those
that still showed the slightest resistance in look or action, were left to
the continuing misery of the cheng.
That left the thirty or so girls who, even after they'd been chenged, had
continued to fight their captors until they had also been bound and gagged.
These were now re-tied into a much shorter coffle and led out to be tethered
between two strong posts set into the ground just outside the ring of tents.
Immediately, lines of Mongols formed behind each of these helpless women and
the gang rapes had begun. Held by the neck in both the coffle rope and the
heavy cheng, their hands tied behind their backs, their mouths filled with
knotted rope, the girls had been taken from the rear, again and again, by one
unseen man after another, until they no longer could even keep count.
Tasha watched the effect these things had on the other girls. While it was a
terrible thing to have one's hands riveted into shackles, it was far better
than having your bands tied behind your back. once the girls had been
shackled, they'd been allowed the freedom to wander where they wanted, within
the protection of the central ring. The girls still noosed in the coffle
rope could only sit, helpless and impotent, watching the girls tethered
outside the ring being raped by one man after another. One by one, as Tasha
watched their faces, these girls made the transition, becoming slaves before
her very eyes.
The three eunuchs also watched the girls sitting in coffle. When they would
become convinced that a girl had made the transition, she would be gently
re-tested. If, this time she accepted the caress, she would be released and
taken to the smithy for her shackles. Only when the last girl in this group
had finally been taken to the smithy was any thought given to the girls
tethered out between the posts.
Most were now so exhausted that they were only on their feet because to fall
was to hang. At an order from the young officer who'd been supervising the
mass gang rape, the lines of waiting men dissolved and backed away, looking
disappointed, but aware of the consequences of disobeying orders. The line
of changed girls was left, tethered between the posts, the accumulated cum of
uncounted men running down the insides of their thighs.
Finally, the coffle rope was un-tied from the posts. The line of girls were
brought back into the protection of the circle and allowed to sit down. Once
again, the eunuchs moved among the seated girls, testing which had been
broken and which had not. Of the thirty, only ten now resisted the intimate
touch between her legs in any way. These were left in coffle, the others
were taken to the smithy. Standing over these last ten girls, Capon saw that
they were of two types. One girl was simply too proud to be broken, but also
one of the most potentially valuable girls in the whole bunch. The other
nine were just common looking young women too stubborn for their own good.
Conferring with the officer, Capon proposed to attack the pride of the one in
one way, while using the other nine as abject lessons for the rest of the
captives. The young officer agreed to the plan and helped Capon to cut the
haughty beauty from the coffle. Taking this girl to the carpenter, they
forced her down onto her knees between two saw horses so that her cheng was
resting on them. Then, a hole was drilled through the front of the cheng,
about a foot in front of the girl's face. When the hole was ready, the girl
was lifted back to her feet and bent over while a long, green-wood pole was
fitted into the hole from underneath so that she could not straighten back up
without the pole pulling up into her sex. To keep her from simply stepping
over this pole, a rope was tied down from her wrists to the pole where it
emerged from between her buttocks.
Finished, the men then let the girl go, to stagger about the compound, unable
to either straighten up or fall down. To fall would be to crush her wind
pipe on the edge of the cheng. To straighten up was to pull the pole up into
her over used sex, the point of greatest pressure being directly on her nerve
filled clitoris. The only thing she could now do was to stagger about, the
small end of the sapling making a zig-zag pattern in the dirt behind her. So
great was the strain of her bent over position that in less than three
minutes the first cramps began to attack the girl's back muscles.
The other nine girls were simply cut free of the coffle and driven back out
into the crowd of waiting men gathered outside the central ring of tents.
With a base growl, the two hundred or so sex starved men closed in on the
nine helpless women. Tasha turned away, unable to watch.
Wanting to do something to avoid listening to the mob of men attacking the
nine chenged girls, Tasha went to where the tenth girl struggled to remain on
her feet. Her back muscles by this time on fire, the girl was leaning her
head against a post, panting with the mounting pain, the saliva dripping from
her gag sundered lips onto the dirt below. "I know you." Said Tasha, wanting
to distract the girl from her pain. "Your name is Alexis, isn't it? Your
father used to buy milk from mine."
Gagged by the knotted rope, Alexis said. "Oh awhaa, hew 'ich!" (Go away Jew
Stung, Tasha nevertheless tried again. "Alexis, let me help you."
Alexis fought against the relentless pull of gravity, feeling her body
steadily weakening, coming ever closer to the moment when she would fall and
die as her windpipe was crushed by the cheng. "Oo kahnt hep. Oo i 'meny."
(You can't help. You're my enemy)
Tasha grasped the cheng by passing her hand through the hole at the back of
Alexis' neck. Lifting the weight, she said. "Alexis, we cannot afford to be
enemies any more. Not if any of us are going to survive." Then, disregarding
Alexis' gag muffled protests, Tasha dragged the girl over to where Capon
stood supervising the feeding of the new slave girls.
Using the pidgin Mongol she'd picked up, Tasha said. "Capon, this girl die
soon. Good girl. Much gold, this girl."
Capon looked down at Tasha and the girl she was trying to help. "Girl not
slave. Not slave, not good girl. Tasha not help girl. Girl help girl.
Become good slave, girl get loose." He said, gently taking Tashals supporting
hand from the heavy cheng,
Immediately, Alexis staggered and almost fell. The weight of the heavy cheng
on her exhausted back muscles was almost more than she could support. She
whimpered in fresh pain around the knotted rope and staggered away, trying to
find someplace to prop her head again.
Tasha didn't know why she felt so desperate to save Alexis, she only knew
that it seemed important that she try to do so. Then, she remembered her ace
in the hole. She had been saving it in hopes of somehow using it for her own
escape, but now decided to use it to save Alexis. Going up to Capon, she
whispered into the big man's ear. "Capon like Gold? Much, much gold? Let
girl live, Tasha tell Capon where find much, much gold."
Capon looked down at Tasha in surprise, then said, his voice too low to be
heard by anyone else. "Gold? where is gold?"
"Help girl, Tasha tell Capon where gold." Tasha said, watching Alexis stumble
and almost fall. The changed girl was only moments from death if she didn't
get help soon.
Capon didn't like being manipulated like this. On the other hand, the girl
in the cheng was a beauty who would be worth a lot of money on the auction
block back home. It was his duty to train as many of these barbarians as
possible to slavery, not kill them. He considered simply forcing Tasha to
tell him where to find the gold, but rejected that idea because she was such
a favorite of the General. He said in a low whisper. "I help, you tell
where gold." Then turning to Kazim, he shouted. "Kazim, help that one.
Don't let her fall." Then turning back to Tasha he said. "Tell quick, where
Tasha watched as Kazim hurried to the nearly spent girl and, grasping the
pole mid way between the cheng and her sex, used it like a handle, tippinq
her over to hang, her weight supported by her chenged head and the rope that
split her ass cheeks. Carrying the kicking girl like you would a rather
heavy suitcase, Kazim took her over to the carpenter for release.
Satisfied that Capon had kept his part of the bargain, Tasha said. "Gold in
wagon. Not girl wagon, other wagon. Look floor, find much gold. much, much
gold." Then, hurrying over to Alexis' side where she was being released,
Tasha began trying to help the girl in any way she could.
When the pole and Cheng had been removed, Alexis fell to the ground, unable
to support her own weight. As Tasha removed the knotted rope from between
her lips, Alexis was finding herself too weak to even hold her head up off of
the ground. Alexis lay where she'd fallen, the cramps in her back muscles
keeping her tied up in knots no less confining than the ones from which she'd
just been released.
Giving the panting girl a sip of water, Tasha said. "Easy now, the pain will
pass. Just let yourself relax. I'm here to help you."
"But why?" Asked the girl on the ground, her head shaking back and forth
uncontrollablly. "My people enslaved you! Why should you want to help me?"
Tasha gave the girl another sip of water. "Because to stay alive and
possibly escape, we need to work together. if your girls fight with mine, we
will all lose."
"But to be a whore for these dirty animals. I could never do that." Said
Alexis, still not convinced.
"We are not whores, we are slaves. Slaves do what they must to stay alive."
Tasha said, massaging Alexis' knotted back muscles, trying to work out the
cramps without hurting the girl any more.
When Tabo came to take Alexis to the blacksmith to be riveted into her wrist
shackles, Tasha went with her, giving the helplessly bent girl both physical
and mental support. Tasha knew full well what it felt like to sit and watch
as one's wrists were fettered in iron, she'd been wearing the Golem's chains
on both her wrists and ankles for almost two weeks now.
By the time the General's army returned from it's battle against the Tsar's
thirty thousand, Tasha and Alexis had become allies, their shared purpose
being to help as many of their girls as possible to survive and to work
toward eventual escape.
As before, the victorious army marched in three columns. General Subudey and
his son, Batu rode at the front of the middle column. Behind them, guarded
by horsemen, shuffled the eighteen hundred survivors of the Tsar's army.
Like all Mongol captives taken in summer, the Russians had been stripped
naked, bound and noosed into long coffles. Half way back in one of these
coffles was Kubek, King of the Cuman nomads.
It had been Kubek who had first warned his kinsman, Prince Nikon, Tsar of
Kiev, that his lands were being invaded from the East. The Prince, aware
that Kubek was a better general than anyone else he could call upon, had
given him command of the hastily assembled army.
Kubek, having seen the Mongol horsemen, had begged for more heavy cavalry to
augment his own Cuman light cavalry. Having no more to give, Nikon had
refused. And so it had been, Kubek had marched out at the head of his army.
He had no knowledge of Mongol tactics, having never seen them in battle. He
had been hindered by too many of the wrong kinds of troops, the large
majority of his men being criminals and alcoholics drafted into the army to
keep them off the streets of Kiev.
The few men that he had that were professional fighting men were members of
the landed nobility and as such could not be trusted to follow his, a
nomad's, orders. Still, he thought that the shear weight of his numbers
would prevail. His main objective was the Mongol camp, it's herds and
supplies. He knew, having watched the Mongols in motion, that he could never
catch them. "But," He'd argued. "I can destroy their camp and deprive them
of their food and shelter. Then 'General Frost" will drive them away this
Prince Nikon, not being much of a military strategist, could find no hole in
Kubek had sent out his light horsemen to scout out the Mongol camp. Less
than one in three of these scouts had managed to learn anything useful and
remain alive to report back. In the end, however, Kubek had found his
objective and was moving to attack it with everything he had.
Leading the way across the rolling steppe had been his Cuman scouts. Having
a similar life style to the Mongols, the nomadic Cumans had had a similar
light cavalry. Armed mainly with bows, they survived in battle by using
their superior agility to defeat their heavier armed foes. Hindered by their
sparse numbers and long, unwieldy bows, the Cumans had, nevertheless,
controlled vast areas of central Russia.
The Cuman Kings had been allied to the Tsars of Russia for generations,
trading slaves, wives and even favorite concubines to seal the bargains. It
had been due to this practice that Kubek had been Nikon's first cousin.
Now, he stumbled in coffle with what was left of his men. Behind him lie,
unburied, more than thirty thousand dead.
The trouble had started as his forward scouts had begun to make first contact
with the scouts of the advancing Mongols. Almost to a man, the Cuman scouts
had died as they had discovered that the little steppe horses could almost
always out run their longer legged but slower mounts. Thus deprived of his
eyes, Kubek had pressed on, driving toward where he knew the Mongol camp lay.
Kubek had formed his army into two elements. The vast majority being on foot
and carrying ten foot steel pointed pikes. These, he'd formed into pike
squares of a hundred men each. Into these squares, he'd placed his few long
bows, hoping that within that protection, they might live long enough to do
him some good. Behind the protection of his pike squares, he'd stationed his
three thousand horse heavy cavalry, ready to ride down and crush any force
foolish enough to attack his pikes. Those few Cuman lights he had had left,
he'd kept with himself to act as messengers.
The vast army of pike squares deployed to the front, the officers using
shouts and curses to get their men into proper position, they'd marched
across the rolling steppe. He'd thought that they had never looked so good,
their squares looking like a giant chess board flowing across the earth.
Then, as his squares had neared the ridge at their front, they'd heard the
sounds of thousands of horses charging right at them. While the officers had
been screaming instructions, the front rank of pike men were grounding their
pikes to form a picket fence that no horse would knowingly charge. Behind
them, a second rank had stood, their pikes ready to skewer any horseman that
might have blindfolded his horse. The rolling thunder of horses hooves had
continued to grow for a terrifying amount of time. By the time they'd seen
the first conical helmets rising up out of the ground in front of them, the
men had been ready to break ranks and flee. Quickly, the helmets had grown
into men. Men mounted on charging horses. The squares had braced for the
impact, but at the last second the little horses had swerved to the sides,
riding by between the squares. At first Kubek had breathed a sigh of relief.
They had not known of his numbers, and had flinched away when they'd seen
Then he'd seen what the short bows in the hands of the riders were doing to
his pike squares. The squares seemed to be melting, the men drawing into
smaller and smaller areas as their numbers were reduced. The pike men could
not fight back, the few archers that each square had possessed had been the
first to fall. Then, any man who picked up a bow would be struck down,
sometimes by several arrows at once. Without a weapon with as much range as
the Mongol bows, they could only stand and take the murderous fire.
A few of the better drilled squares had tried to charge the milling throng of
horsemen, but it had been like trying to kill flies with a pair of bricks.
By the time a square could move, the quick little horses would be long gone.
Seeing that his cavalry was just laying back, waiting for the Mongols to run
short of arrows, Kubek ordered that the signal for charge be given. He knew
that without the protection of the pike squares, the heavy cavalry could not
long survive. Outnumbered three to five, the noblemen of the Russian cavalry
were in no hurry to risk their lives, just to save the commoners dying in the
pike squares. Therefore, they'd charged at only half their normal speed,
hoping to give the Mongols time to get out of their lumbering way.
Never-the-less, the Mongols had appeared to break, their little steppe horses
bounding away like deer before a charging bear.
Before the amazed Kubek could react, his cavalry had disappeared over the
ridge at his front.
When the rabble that still lived in the pike squares saw that the cavalry was
going to get all the loot, they also broke ranks and ran toward the ridge.
Kubek sat and watched as his army melted into thousands of looters, each
intent upon getting as much portable wealth as he could carry. Loot taken in
and after battle was the common soldier's main reason for being in the Tsar's
army. It was his only hope of being able, someday, to retire in comfort,
instead of starving on the Tsar's pension.
Finding his command suddenly gone from his sight, Kubek had spurred his big
charger forward, up toward the nearly empty ridge. As he'd crossed the
ground littered with dead and dying pike men, he'd had a premonition of what
he would find on the far side of the ridge. Reaching the crest, he'd seen
his worst nightmare come to life. His heavy cavalry, their horses blown by
the weight they'd been carrying, were being systematically slaughtered by the
short but heavy arrows fired from the Mongol bows. The fastest of the pike
men still had over a quarter of a mile to run before they would reach the
scene of the slaughter. Kubek could see that the helpless noblemen would be
dead long before help could get to them.
A movement on his left caught his eye. Turning to look in that direction, he
was not even surprised to see five thousand additional horsemen seem to
spring up out of an empty plain. "What has happened to our flank scouts?"
He'd asked an aid as he watched this new formation come around behind him,
cutting off his retreat.
Instead of answering, the aid had pointed to his right, his face suddenly
bloodless. Kubek's eyes had followed the gesture and seen his fate. From
out of a small patch of woods had come a third force of five thousand horse.
As they'd come out into the sunlight, he'd seen that these were heavy
cavalry, armed with lances and long curving sabers. As soon as they reached
open ground, they'd charged, at full speed.
Had those pike men who still retained their weapons been given time, they
might have been able to reform their squares. They were given no time. The
impact of the heavy cavalry hit the disorganized Russians in a long line
abreast, sweeping all before it like a scythe cuts down grain.
The light horsemen at Kubek's front, finished with the slaughter of his
heavies, had then turned back and spread out to link up with the rest of the
closing noose. When the circle had been complete, the horsemen had turned
their small mounts inward and begun to tighten the trap. Killing all
would-be escapes with their short bows, the Mongol lights had slowly herded
the Russians into a tighter and tighter circle. At the same time, the
heavies were inside, crushing any formations that tried to form.
So hopeless had the situation become, that Kubek had tried to surrender to
the first Mongol who'd come into shouting distance. The mongol's response
had been to kill Kubek's horse with an arrow fired into the animal's eye.
Leaping down from his falling horse, Kubek had scrambled up behind his aid
and managed to "escape" down into the killing field.
In the end, only those that lay down and faked death had been allowed to
live. The Mongols, after all, had known how to select slaves.
As soon as there had been no Russians left standing, the Mongols had
dismounted and gone among them, carefully kicking each prone Russian in the
groin. When a possum player would be found, he would be stripped and bound.
Kubek, having been discovered cowering under a pile of dead, still wearing
his gold plated armor, had been taken before the General.
Subudey had looked at the nomad King as if he were looking at a rotten fish.
"Why is this man still wearing his armor?" He'd asked.
"So that you would know his rank, my General." The Commander had said,
pushing Kubek down onto his knees.
"Why should I care about that?" The General had asked. "Do You think he
deserves special treatment after what he has let us do to his command?"
"Only special punishment." The Commander had said, jerking his lasso even
tighter around the kneeling man's neck.
"He does not deserve even that." The General had said, turning away. "If he
wants to live, it will be as a common slave. Put him in with the rest of the
cowards." Then to the messenger who'd just ridden up. "You say that my son
is coming to help?"
The messenger had looked around the now quiet battle field and said. "Do you
want me to ride back and tell him that he won't be needed?"
"No, his men can help with the cattle." The General had said, chuckling.
Between the large herd of cattle the Mongols had taken at the village and the
smaller one they'd gathered up behind the defeated army, the Mongol herd had
grown to twice it's former size. This was not uncommon. The Mongols often
gained strength as they moved through enemy territory. Not only in supplies,
but also in numbers of fighters. As part of their carrot and stick policy,
they would recruit any fighters they saw as worthy. In addition, drafts of
slave laborers would be used during sieges, first to erect a wall completely
around their objective, completely cutting it off from the outside, then to
fill in the moat, and finally to batter through the wall with huge covered
When the long columns of captives had been marched into the camp and the
cattle mixed with the Mongol herd, General Subudey looked down from the ridge
and said to his son. ..We will need to move soon. This valley is too small
for us now."
Batu, sitting beside his father's huge Arabian on his little steppe horse,
looked up and said. "If we stay here a few days, we'll lose far fewer of the
slaves. You know how hard it is to move them when they're too raw."
"You are right, my son. I leave it to you. Get them ready to move as soon
as possible, I'll have the herd moved to better pasture tomorrow." He then
spurred his horse and rode down into the camp, intent on the pleasures of his
two love slaves, Tasha and Sara.
They brought Tasha before The Great Kahn. Rendered totally helpless by their
bonds, Tasha could only shuffle slowly in whichever direction her eunuch
handlers led her. She was blind, silenced and strangely proud. She was
blind because a shining black silk shroud had been pulled down over her
tightly bound body, covering her from the top of her head down to her closely
hobbled ankles. She was silent because they had blocked open her mouth and
poured a drugged liquid down her throat. In less than five minutes, she'd
felt her throat go completely numb, then she'd discovered that her voice box
had become totally paralyzed. The loudest sound she could now make was a
quiet huffing of expelled air. To prevent her from either whistling or
mouthing words, they'd left the carved ivory blocks wedged between her back
She was proud because she knew that no woman had ever before merited such
treatment, at least not in public. No mere woman had ever threatened the
Mongol empire as she had. Each redundant layer of her tight bondage had been
like a form of recognition of the damage she'd caused them.
After all, she was only a weak woman. The two huge eunuchs that had led her
in could have easily controlled her even if she'd been left totally unbound.
The heavy wooden cheng locked around her silk shrouded throat would have been
a sufficient symbol of her status as an enemy of the empire. would have been
more than enough to render her helpless and secure. The iron shackles she
wore at wrists and ankles would have been simply redundant. But then they'd
added the tight punishing bristle filled ropes that lashed her elbows
together behind her back. The network of rough rope that enmeshed her
woman's body from throat to groin added nothing to her helplessness, they had
been tied upon her as a form of punishment so that her every breath, her
every movement would give her pain.
Chingis Kahn, conqueror of the known world, Emperor of Mongolia, Manchuria,
China, Siberia, Korea, South East Asia, India, Persia, Russia, and the
Balkans, looked down from his cushioned throne platform and recognized the
insult that Tasha's bonds represented. Slapping the naked flank of the young
Mandarin slave girl beside him, he dismissed her and met his Chancellor's
eyes. The Kahn, along with every man in the room knew that Tasha's bonds
were an insult, directed against him. What was worse, was the fact that the
insult had come from his own brother.
The young woman standing before him was taller than he, but she couldn't
weigh half as much. She could have, perhaps, lifted the Kahn's saber, but
she could never have swung it in battle. Yet this outlander, this slave
girl, had caused him, Chingis Kahn, more trouble than any Emperor, King or
General he'd ever gone up against. Her rag tag army of escaped slaves had
killed more Mongols than had been killed in all the wars of conquest put
together. She had led her ever growing army across northern China,
Manchuria, and even the sacrosanct Fatherland, Mongolia, looting, burning and
killing as she had gone.
Little was known about the woman, except that she'd been purchased from the
late General Subudey's estate. It was thought that she'd been first captured
somewhere in the new lands, in the province called Russia. Her last master
had been the husband of the Kahn's favorite daughter.
The first anyone in Court had heard of her had been when she'd murdered her
master in his sleep and then gone on to kill his entire household, men, women
and children. This had been nearly seven months before. No-one had been
able to find out why a slave girl, one who had never before given anyone any
trouble, should suddenly turn murderous.
When every Mongol in the villa had been murdered in their sleep, including
the Kahn's daughter and five of his grand sons, Tasha had made her way out to
the field slave pens. Murdering the guards there, she'd then incited the
slaves to revolt. Arming themselves from their dead master's villa, the
slaves had marched out, two hundred strong.
Attacking villa after villa, Tasha's army had grown at an exponential rate.
The Mongols had made the same mistake all conquerors make. They had brought
in more slaves than was safe.
To make things worse, many of the Kahn's best units were made up of captured
fighting men who were just as likely to join Tasha as fight her. By the time
the Kahn had gathered enough loyal troops to deal with what had been reported
as a local revolt, Tasba's army had grown too large for three such armies.
By the time he had learned of the destruction of his first army and had
gathered three more, the job would have been too much for seven.
The revolt had spread like a stain across the Kahn's maps, some areas sending
frantic messages for protection, others simply going silent.
It became clear, in time, that Tasha was leading her people north west,
toward the endless forests of Siberia. The Kahn had known that once into
those trackless forests, Tasha would be safe. In thick wood, a horseman has
little advantage over a man on foot.
In the end, only a flooding river had stopped her. Trapped, she'd turned
back, only to find the Kahn's armies massing behind her. Had there been wood
with which to make rafts, she might still have escaped. But the open plain
had not had enough trees to make even five percent of her need.
The final battle had been almost without quarter, only the nubile females
being given any chance to submit. Tasha had been caught, hiding out in the
muddy water of the flood plain. Breathing through a reed, she'd lain there
in the blood tinged water hoping that she might be missed in the confusion of
battle. Suddenly, there had been a movement in the water beside her and at
the same moment the air had stopped coming down her reed.
Setting up with sudden violence, Tasha had struck out blindly with her razor
sharp knife. She had hoped to hit the man in the belly. what she'd hit was
his horse. Mortally wounded, the little horse had reared up, causing the
saber to miss Tasha's ear by a fraction. The horse, his intestines spilling
out to entangle his hind legs, had fallen back trapping his rider under him
in the waist high water. Before the man could disentangle himself, Tasha had
been upon him, her knife sliding in under his cuirass to open his belly like
she'd opened his horse's.
Then standing up in the red water, she'd seen that she'd been spotted by
several more horsemen. She'd tried to head out toward deeper water but it
had been like a nightmare, the mud holding her back as the horsemen had
splashed up behind her. At the last second, she'd dove into the water and
immediately changed directions as she swum away. Still hoping to escape,
she'd stayed under water until her lungs had been bursting. She'd had no way
of knowing if the men on horseback had been able to follow her, she'd only
known that the further she went, the better were her chances.
When her need for air had finally forced her to the surface, she'd found
herself in a tight circle of horsemen. She'd spun around, the knife held out
before her, hoping that someone would do her the favor of killing her instead
of taking her captive again. The two lassoes that had dropped over her she'd
managed to cut before they could be drawn tight. Preferring a quick death,
Tasha had charged the river side of the circle, screaming like a mad woman.
Before she'd gone three mud slowed steps, a horseman had ridden her down from
behind, knocking her senseless with the flat of his saber.
At first, she'd been just part of the loot. Something to be passed from one
soldier to the next. Something to be kept alive for as long as they could
derive pleasure from her. Then Batu, old General Subudey's son had spotted
her, picking her out of hundreds of captured slave girls, even though by that
time she'd been caked with filth.
Batu, knowing that Tasha had been the Moses of the escaping slaves, took her
away from the circle of men who'd been toying with her and had her cleaned up
for presentation to his General. Explaining how he'd recognized her, having
been the one who'd first captured her in Russia, he'd made the suggestion
that perhaps the Kahn might want to see to her execution personally.
The General, sensing political advantage, had then passed her up the line to
the Kahn's brother.
The Kahn looked down at the shroud covered form and said, his voice flat and
dangerous. "I wish to see her."
The two eunuchs set to work. First her cheng was unlocked and removed, the
heavy wood being lowered to the polished floor behind her. Next, one eunuch
stepped on the short chain between her feet while the other rolled up the
bottom hem of the shining silk shroud. Almost immediately, it became clear
that the shroud was her body's only covering. As the hem was rolled up over
her wide hips, the Kahn exclaimed. "My Gods, her hair really is red!"
"Yes Kahn, among the people who live far to the west there are many shades of
both eye and hair color." Said the Chancellor, thinking that the Kahn's
preference for Mandrin concubines had perhaps made him a little too parochial.
As the hem continued to roll up Tasha's naked, tightly bound body, the Kahn
wondered at the enormity of the insult. But at the same moment, inside his
silk pantaloons, his cock stirred, his testicles tightened. The woman was as
he'd heard she would be, one of the most perfectly proportioned females he or
any of his informer's had ever seen. Taller than the vast majority of
Mongols, male or female, she had a shape like an erotic statue from far off
Rome. Her body, only seven months past delivering twins, looked like
motherhood personified full, fertile, ready to bring forth more life.
To an aging man who desperately needed to replace the grandchildren he'd
lost, Tasha looked like the perfect brood mare.
The man who'd tied her, the Kahn could see, had been creating a work of both
tactile and visual art. Her freckle covered skin made her look like an
exotic species of lizard woman captured in some magical land far far away.
The feeling of wildness had been accentuated by the way the ropes enmeshed
her torso. Having done this tie himself, the Kahn knew that a quarter inch
diameter piece of horse hair rope had been doubled over the front of her iron
slave collar and tied every few inches so that the two ropes had become one.
Then, this knotted length of prickly rope had been brought down the front of
her body, drawn back between her legs and tied to her wrist fetters so that
her hands were held down between her buttocks. At first, the prickly ropes
would have been only touching the outer lips of the lizard woman's sex. But
then, the man would have tied the other rope, the one that came around her
front and wrapped around the separate strands of the crotch ropes, between
the knots, so that they became a row of prickly rope diamonds, running up her
front from her sex to her Adam's apple.
As a result, the crotch rope would have become tighter, much tighter. So
tight that it would have pulled up between her labia, splitting her up the
middle with the prickly strands of knotted rope. When the eunuchs had been
done, it would have been adjusted so that the largest knot would be pulled up
between her nether lips, it's tightness felt mainly on the nerve filled
nubbin of her clitoris. In back, this rope would wrap around her elbows,
pulling them tight together in the middle of her back, pulling her fettered
and tied wrists upward, further tightening the crotch rope.
The Kahn inspected the bindings closely. Letting his eyes sweep up from her
swollen, red lipped sex, he saw that, even now, her skin seemed to be
cringing away from the tight strands of horsehair rope that held her. He saw
how they'd used cords to tie her full woman's breasts up so they would feel
the tight winds of horse hair the more. He saw how her every breath pulled
the rope tighter, the tiny stiff hairs feeling like barbs of wire pricking
her in a hundred places at once. He saw how they'd robbed her of all dignity
by propping her jaws wide open so that she looked like she was constantly
screaming at the top of her lungs. He saw her eyes, her amazing green eyes.
He saw her intelligence coming through, despite all that had been done to
her. He fell in lust. He had to have this woman, even if it were to cost
him his Throne.
Turning away from Tasha's return gaze, Kahn tried to cover the turmoil in his
mind. The woman had murdered half his family. His official one that is.
His harem held fifty nine more of his offspring, but his daughter's five
children had been his legal heirs, his only hope for a worthy successor.
Now, only one grandchild remained.
Fortunately young Kubli had been away the night of the murders.
Again the Kahn felt the rage well up within him. This was the woman who'd
gone through his daughter's house armed with a razor sharp meat cleaver,
killing everyone and everything, even the small dog asleep on his mistress'
bed. This was the woman that had deprived Kubli of his brothers, left him
standing alone against the machinations of the Mongol court.
That thought brought the Kahn back to the crux of the problem. There were
two messages sent by the way Tasha was tied. The official one was that The
Mighty Kahn was afraid of a slave girl. That unless she were made totally
helpless, she might yet defeat him. The second message was more personal,
and thus more insulting. It was a none to subtle prod at The Kahn's sexual
tastes. His brother was daring to point out that Chingis Kahn never made
love to a woman who was not helpless.
All of this added up to one thing. His own brother had gone over to the
other side. The side that blamed the Kahn for the near success of Tasha's
The Kahn would now be forced to return the insult, at least ten fold. He
didn't think he really disagreed with what they were saying, but be was Kahn.
It would be expected.
Again his eyes, sliding away from her silent scream, were drawn to hers. He
had never seen green ones before, a few blue, one pair of albino reds, black
and all the many shades of brown, but never green. "Is she human?" He
quietly asked his Chancellor.
"Men have successfully mated with them, my Kahn." Said the Chancellor, dryly.
"Men have successfully mated with chickens! What I want to know is, was their
"Yes, oh Kahn, many boys have been whelped. They will add much to the
strength and size of your armies." said the Chancellor, not bothering to say
what was being done with the females.
I know she can't talk now, but does she speak any civilized tongue? The Kahn
asked getting up from his cushions to come down from his throne platform.
"Hard to tell, the way she's fixed." Said the Chancellor, keeping his seat up
on the platform, as was his right.
Without the slightest note of deference, the eunuch on Tasha's right said.
"She speaks the high tongue, Kahn, though with an atrocious accent." It was
as if this eunuch slave thought he could say anything to the Kahn, that the
Kahn's rage could never hurt him.
Chingis Kahn suppressed his anger, letting it build inside himself like steam
pressure builds in a corked tea kettle. "Oh, of course, she'd been my
son-in-law's concubine for over a year, hadn't she?"
"Yes Kahn, before she killed him, and your daughter, and everyone else in the
house." Said the eunuch on Tasha's left, earning the death to which he'd
already been condemned.
"Tell me," Said the Kahn, his voice flat and as deadly as a razor. .why have
you bound this mere woman so tightly?" He reached out and gripped the crotch
splitting rope just above the point it emerged from between Tasha's red
haired pubes. "Surely, two big geldings like you could have handled a little
thing like this?" He asked, tugging sharply on the rope.
Tasha screamed, the air coming out of her open mouth like a deep breath you'd
do for a doctor, only ending in a shuddering grunt. Somehow, it was even
more compelling than it would have been had she had the use of her voice box.
The eunuch on Tasha's right cleared his throat and said, as if by rote. "My
master sends you this murderous female, he asks only that you dispense
"I asked you why she has been tied like this." Said the Kahn, turning to look
at the calm faced eunuch.
"My master ordered it so." Answered the guard, looking Chingis Kahn straight
in the eyes, As if they were equals, as if daring him to do something about
"Does my brother think I tremble before a slave girl?" He said, his eyes
locked on the eyes of the eunuch. "or any slave?"
"Your brother thought it best, not to put it to the test." Said the eunuch on
the left, beginning to enjoy himself now that his life was over anyway. Both
of these surgically neutered slaves had been condemned to death. They had
known it since their master had given them their orders. By their master's
lights, the sentences were only just, if a little long in coming. These two
had run away to join the slave revolt, only the fact that they'd belonged to
the Kahn's brother had kept them alive this long. Otherwise, they would have
been killed by the patrol that had captured them. Instead, they'd been
brought back in irons and returned to their rightful owner. That worthy had,
at first, tried to forgive his two best eunuchs. He'd always admired their
skill at slave training, enjoyed the profits from their services, both
financially and sexually. But as the stories had come in of the destruction
and death wrecked upon their sacred homeland, Mongolia, he'd found he could
no longer go to sleep without wondering if he would share the fate of so
many, waking up to discover that his throat had been cut. He'd then decided
to kill two birds with one stone. His orders had been that they come here,
in this manner and treat the Kahn as if he were a fellow slave.
The Chancellor spoke from his cushions on the platform. "It is said that she
is a witch, oh Kahn. Perhaps these things are only precautions against the
Chingis Kahn had had enough of this farce. He pulled sharply on Tasha's
crupper and began to lead her up the steps to his throne cushions. As short
as her hobble was, and as high as the steps were, she could only lean back
against the pain of the crupper and hop. Thus, it took several minutes, time
which every person in the room spent imagining how Tasha was being punished
by the network of barb filled rope. When they finally reached the top step,
the Kahn turned to his Chancellor and said. "Kill those two . . . humanely.
Then send two hundred armed men to deliver their heads to my brother. Have
the messenger ask if they were acting on his orders. if he admits his crime,
disarm his guards, put him under house arrest and send word back to me. If
he denies the crime, he is not to be arrested. Not yet."
Then, hooking his foot in Tasha's ankle chain, he lowered her to lie back
across the cushions. Turning his head as he knelt down over Tasha's helpless
form, he said. "Leave us, I would 'Question the Witch'."
When they were alone in the giant throne room, the big doors closed by the
retreating guards, Kahn looked into Tasha's eyes and said. "You are not a
witch, are you?"
Tasha, panting with the pain of the ropes, returned the Kahn's gaze and shook
her head. She was lying back on her tightly bound arms, her body bent back
over the pile of silk cushions. She was finding that being upright had been
far less painful than lying down.
The Kahn had a surprise for his captive. There was a way to increase her
pain. He gripped the chain between her ankles and brought it up to lock it
to a "D" ring under her chin, putting her back into the old Mongol punishment
position. As soon as he'd hooked the ankle chain to the front of her collar,
he said. "Are you the one who's even now causing me all this trouble?"
Again, Tasha shook her head. She felt like a suckling pig, prepared for the
oven. She could not twitch, yet her entire being was screaming for escape.
Pulling the dagger from his belt, the Kahn knelt beside her and carefully cut
through the crupper rope where it was fastened to her wrist chain. Then,
ignoring her silent gasps of pain, he pulled the big knot out of her sex,
leaving her looking like a mare in full season. Tasha's opening was hot,
foaming with wetness and hanging open in invitation to any and all males who
might come along.
The rage he felt toward this woman was a cold knot in his belly. He would
extract his vengeance to the last measure. But first he had to know why she
had done what she had. Having long ago found that he could best tell when a
woman was lying to him when he was having sex with her, he knelt below her
up-thrust ass and began to toy with her red and swollen labia. "Did you know
that it was my only child and grandchildren you were slaughtering that
night?" He asked, touching her swollen and erect clitoris with a tentative
Tasha looked down between her widely spread legs. She could no more close
herself to his touch than she could close her mind's eye to the scene of
horror she'd woken up to find that winter morning seven months before. To
answer his question, she nodded in the affirmative. She had known who she'd
killed that night.
"What had those little boys done to you?" He asked, sliding a pair of thick
fingers inside to where he could both feel her pulse and stimulate her "G"
Tasha remembered lying on a narrow couch, her legs fastened up so the
midwives could work. Her pregnancy had been easy, due to her wide woman's
hips. The master's own midwife had been in attendance. At her side had
stood Sara, her belly nearly as swollen as Tasha's. Her labor had not been
long, only intense. Then, after a harder push than before, Tasha had heard
the lusty crying of her infant.
The midwife had been biting her lips all during the delivery. Then, as the
baby's hips had emerged, the midwife had cried out in sorrow. The baby had
been a girl.
Tasha had looked up into the woman's eyes and seen the truth. "My baby, is
it?" She'd asked.
'I am so sorry, my dear." The old woman had said, wrapping the infant in a
piece of cloth.
"Please, let me hold her!" Tasha had cried, trying to get up.
"You know that I cannot." The old woman had said, walking quickly from the
room, Tasha's screaming baby in her arms.
"Sara, help me." Tasha had cried, trying to reach the straps that were still
holding her legs up and apart.
"Stay where you are!" Sara had said, walking after the midwife.
Tasha, weak from her labor, had fallen back. Outside the door, she'd heard
Sara pleading with their master for the life of her little girl. "But
Master, how do you know what she will look like when she's grown?"
Their master's voice had been gruff. "It is better this way. A female this
misshapen would only suffer." He'd said, his tone one of determination.
"Master, please. Tasha will be destroyed if you kill her baby!"
"Tasha will get over it soon enough. It is the custom." The Kahn's
son-in-law said. Death by exposure was the traditional fate of unwanted
infants. A female as ugly and misshapen as these half breeds whelped by the
European girls would never be attractive enough to pay for their keep.
Therefore, the Mongols made a habit of taking them away from their mothers as
soon as they were born. Exposed to the elements, they quickly died.
Tasha, her head swimming, had finally managed to reach the straps on her
ankles. Then, rolling off of the delivery bed, she'd struggled to her feet.
Fighting the spinning in her head, she'd staggered over to the door. When
she'd gotten to the doorway she'd seen Sara, down on her knees, her swollen
belly standing out as if ready to burst. "Master, surely a man of your
wealth can afford to own one ugly slave girl?"
The Kahn's son-in-law had looked, first down at Sara, then up at the ashen
faced Tasha leaning on the door jam. "No, it is against Custom!." He said
turning away toward the outside door.
"No, you cannot!" Sara had cried, lunging for the baby.
The master had felt Sara's hand on his arm. Spinning away in rage, he"d
thrown Sara to the floor. Sara had grunted in pain as her entire weight had
landed on her huge belly.
Without looking back, the master had walked out, unwrapping his daughter as
The midwife had come to Tashals side, trying to get her back into the bed.
Behind her, blood had begun to spread out from under Sara's legs.
By the time the master had returned, blowing on his hands to warm them, Sara
had been dying. Ruptured by her fall, her womb was pouring out her life's
blood. There was nothing anyone could do.
When it had been over, they'd cut her belly open to see if they could save
her baby, but when they'd seen that it too was female, they'd simply loaded
Sara's body onto a stretcher and carried her out, her daughter alive, but
still connected by her umbilical cord to her dead mother.
Dawn had found Tasha standing naked over the blood spurting body of a seven
year old Mongol boy. In her hand had been the razor sharp meat cleaver from
the kitchen. Covering her body from head to toes had been the life's blood
of fifteen people.
To this day, Tasha was not yet able to remember the events of that night.
Then, seeing what she had done, Tasha had pulled on a man's clothing and gone
out to the pens where the field slaves were kept under guard. It had been
her only hope of staying alive.
Again, as she always did when thinking about that night, Tasha began to cry,
the tears flowing back out of the corners of her eyes toward her ears.
Chinqis Kahn had been watching her eyes as she'd been remembering. He felt
his resolve to kill this woman slipping away. He did not know what had
happened to make her do what she had done, but he knew that he wanted to find
out, before he had her killed.
In the mean time, there was the lust he'd felt for her to be seen to. He
bent down and tasted Tasha's wet vagina, slipping his thick, hairy thumb into
her anus to hold her still while he enjoyed her passion aroma.
When the bulk of the bristle covered knot had been pulled up out of Tasha's
swollen sex, she'd felt as if she were birthinq a porcupine, breach. The
horror of being tied with horse bair rope is the way it never stops pricking
it's prisoner with it's thousands of wire stiff bristles. Tied the way Tasha
was, with the rope attacking her naked body from every direction at once,
Tasha had found no respite at all. From the moment the two eunuchs had first
let a piece of the horsehair rope touch her bare skin, to the present, she
had been trying to get away from it's constant, ever present pain.
The closer to Imperial City she'd come, the more secure had been her bondage.
when she'd been taken from the common soldiers, she'd simply been hobbled and
bound in thick leather rawhide straps that had then been allowed to dry on
her, becoming in the process as hard as iron. Her hands had been behind her
back so long by that time that she'd learned to do many things with her feet.
For instance, masturbating a man without trying to kick him as he'd been
standing over her using a switch on her breasts.
Then Batu had come, like her Knight in Shining Armor, to "rescue" her from
the squad of men who'd captured her. She'd gladly accepted his iron
shackles. She was, after all "his" slave. She'd always felt, deep in her
heart that Batu was her only master. She'd been given to Subudey, she
believed, because she was too valuable for a man of Batu's rank. It would
have caused too much jealousy in the ranks if he'd been the only junior
officer to have his own comfort girls. The General had been fun, but in
Tasha's mind Batu had remained her Master. Several times during the time
Tasha and Sara had been the General's concubines, they'd been "visited" by
Batu. Each time had been better than the last. It had been as if the three
of them had been given the power to read the other's minds. The sex had been
like a trip to the very stars, so exciting that she'd twice passed out at the
moment of orgasm.
Then, as she'd sat and watched the irons being riveted around her ankles,
she'd been praying Batu would take her to his furs again, immediately. But
he'd only taken her to his General's eunuchs to be bathed, perfumed and have
her lips, nipples and labia rouged. Still, she'd had hope he would want her
as much as she'd wanted him. Again, she'd been disappointed. Instead of
being taken to Batu's tent, after her bath, she'd been taken to his General's
quarters. There, her beloved Batu had betrayed her as the Enemy General.
The woman who'd incited the revolt, then kept it alive for six months, right
in the very heart of the Mongol Empire.
When Chingis Kahn had lost his friend, Subudey, who'd died of a heart attack
while making love to his two Russian concubines, he'd lost his best General.
Batu had been willing to give the man who'd been sent to replace his father
every chance, but it had been hopeless. Every single man on Subudey's staff
was a better trained tactician then this prancing queen of a homosexual court
fop the Kahn's brother had sent out to "replace" him. It had been bad enough
that the old queer had come to them untrained in the arts of war, what had
been worse had been the fact that he then refused to even try to learn.
The Army had suffered badly under this "General", loosing several times their
usual battle casualties each time they'd fought. Then, when replacement
officers had come to reinforce their depleted ranks they'd all seemed to be
"friends" of the new General.
Baru had been trained in the politics of armies. He knew what it meant when
you saw this class of men coming in such numbers to serve in the Army. It
meant an attempted palace coup was in the works.
He had to find a way to get to the Kahn and warn him.
But how? Not being in their club, he'd he under close watch. He could not
desert, that would make him a hunted man. He could never travel as fast as
the word would be relayed by the line of signal towers that stretched all the
way back to the Kahn's brother.
Then, he'd happened to stumble over Tasha. He hadn't seen her, he'd heard
her. It had been two years since he'd heard Tasha screaming in helpless
passion like that, but in the first instant, he'd known who it was being gang
raped in that tent. A plan had come to him full blown. He would demand the
right to take Tasha before the Kahn. As her captor, he had the right to a
huge reward. The General would not dare refuse him.
The General had delayed Batu's departure for as long as held dared,
communicating with the Kahn's brother to find out what he should do. The
instructions that had come back had been to send Batu directly to the Kahn.
The General had smiled as he'd read the message. The direct path to the Kahn
led through the Kahn's trusted brother.
As was the custom, Tasha had been taken back in a cage, mounted at first on a
set of wheels, then, when the mobs had become dangerous, on the back of an
elephant. She'd been on display, as an abject lesson to any other slaves
that might want to revolt. Much of each day on the long road to the Kahn
she'd been forced to stand, her wrists attached up to the pointed top of the
giant bamboo bird cage.
Sometimes, to make her life more interesting, they would force her to step
through her wrist shackles and her hands would be attached up to the top of
the cage behind her back, leaving her standing up on tiptoe, her bent over
position exposing her naked sex for all to see. Once, when she'd lost
patience and insulted one of her guards, she'd spent the day hanging in a
network of tight straps that had exposed her every secret to the eyes of
every man in a large city. She'd been hung from her wrists behind her back,
then they'd forced her legs to fold up until they could tie her ankle chain
across the small of her back so that her feet were positioned next to her hip
bones. Attached to each of her ankle irons, straps had been stretched up to
the bars behind her hanging body, pulling her torso level and easing the pain
of her wracked arms. Two more straps had then been attached to her knees and
stretched downward, opening her sex to anyone who cared to look up at her.
All these things Batu had done to assuage the suspicion of the squad of
guards the General had sent along with him.
For Tasha, it had seemed as if her love had turned against her. No actress
could have recreated the depths of her misery.
When she'd been brought into the palace she'd thought she'd be taken before
the Kahn and quickly sentenced to die in some horrible manner, as was the
practice all over the world. what she hadn't expected was to have Batu
suddenly arrested and dragged away.
Before she'd been able to understand what was happening, she'd been taken to
a cell, had her collar attached to two lengths of chain that had been riveted
to opposite walls and silenced with the bitter tasting liquid they'd poured
down her throat.
The long, pain filled walk across the palace, her body in the tight network
of horsehair rope had further confused Tasha. Blind, she had not known she'd
been walking from the brother's apartment to the Kahn's. She'd only known
that her every step had been rubbing her swollen labia and erect clitoris on
the bristle filled knot between her legs.
By the time she'd reached his cushions, Tasha had been sure that blood must
have been running down between her thighs. It was a shock then to be able to
look down and see herself unhurt, her sex looking no more red, swollen and
foam covered than it always did after sex.
With the Kahn's first touch to the crupper ropes, she'd known him for a true
Master, one who could, if he wanted, kill her with pleasure. Now, as she lay
in the cushions, her head down, her hips propped up with silk pillows, her
ankles attached up under her chin, she knew why she'd been tied this way.
The only place on her entire body that didn't hurt at that moment was her
open vagina. She could, if she wanted, concentrate on the network of pain
giving rope that still enmeshed her from shoulders to hips. Or, she could
concentrate on what the Kahn's lips and tongue were doing to her glowing sex.
It was her choice. She could be destroyed by her pain, or she be destroyed
by her pleasure.
Being who she was, she chose the latter, and thus saved herself. And
incidentally, all of western Europe.
Tasha knelt on the rough stone floor. Her tortured knees were protesting her
every attempt at finding comfort. She was helpless to find any position that
did not hurt, yet she could not get up off of them either. In front of her
kneeling form there was a huge, intricately decorated bronze vessel. More or
less inside this vessel were two wet, wiggling, slippery, female twins, just
eighteen months of age. Their names were Sara and Grete. They were of mixed
race, half European, half Mongol. They were the adopted daughters of the
Kahn. Tasha was kneeling on the hard floor because she needed to be down
where she could bathe her infant twins. She could have left it to the
serving girls, but didn't like to miss the fun.
Chingis Kahn, on his way to a meeting with his Generals, stopped in the
nursery and leaned his strong back against the door jam. "How are my three
girls?" He asked in a tone of voice that very few in the court had ever
heard. A tone so warm and protective that had his own Generals heard it,
they would have wondered who was speaking.
Tasha looked back over her shoulder, her face flushed as a result of her
efforts at controlling her charges. The steam and splashing water had caused
her red hair to kink up into a rat's nest that made the Kahn think that he'd
never seen her so beautiful. "We're a little wet and soapy for an audience
with the Kahn right now." she said, winking back at him, then ducking as Sara
The Kahn stuck his head back out the door and spoke to his long suffering
Chancellor. "Tell them to go ahead without me. I'll be there in a few
The Chancellor's face fell into the fixed smile he always used when the Kahn
was being impossible. "But Kahn," He began. "the Generals . . . " The heavy
wood door to the nursery cut off the rest.
"How's Grete's rash?" Asked the Kahn as he strode across the room toward the
"Oh much better, see?" Said Tasha helping the little girl to stand up in the
tub so that he could inspect her little bottom. "That salve I got from the
healer seems to be working wonders."
Grete giggled happily and bent over to moon The Mighty Kahn, her pink skinned
face beaming up from between her knees.
"Just like her mother." Chuckled the Kahn as he knelt next to Tasha, neither
noticing nor caring that the water was destroying his fur trimmed robe.
Tasha's face went suddenly blank as she felt his callused hand slide up the
back of her gown.
"Very nice." He said, no longer talking about Grete's rash.
Chingis Kahn, conqueror of the entire known world, the man who's very name
has come to mean Ruthless Tyrant, had become a slave to his slave. It had
not even taken very long. After the first time he'd had sex with her, there
on his throne cushions, he'd known that he would never have her killed.
She had been so incredibly responsive, despite her painful bonds, that he'd
realized just how rare a woman she was. Most women bound as she had been
would have cried, screamed, panted and grunted with pain. Tasha had done
none of these things. What she had done was to do her very best to fuck him.
When he had first used his lips, tongue and teeth to drive her almost insane
with passion, he'd not expected she would be any different than the many
other women he'd taken tied like this. For him, the woman's pain was a
necessary part of intercourse.
Twenty nine years previously, he had known another woman like Tasha. They
had both been just sixteen. She had been his betrothed. One week before
they were to have been married, she'd been taken in a raid by a rival
chieftain who'd then taken her back to his camp and attempted to personally
rape her to death.
It had taken six weeks to gather the necessary force to find, and rescue his
When he gotten her home, she'd been more than half dead, her whip marked skin
looking like beef Tartar in some places and a tiger's pelt in others. He'd
sat by her, night and day, nursing her back to health, listening to her
re-living her rapes again and again in her fevered dreams.
It had been during that time that Chingis Kahn had first been sexually
excited by a woman's pain.
His rage had been like a bonfire in his guts, un-ending, unquenchable
unbearable. The man who'd done this to him had fought until cornered, then
killed himself by falling on his own sword, stealing even that from Kahn.
The young Chingis Kahn had been left with no-one to punish, yet his damage
had been permanent, on-going. His life long love, the girl he'd chastely
courted and desired for the last six years had been damaged beyond repair.
He didn't know if she were pregnant yet, but he knew that if she wasn't it
wouldn't be from any lack of trying. Yet here he was, getting sexually
excited by her fevered re-living of her experiences. The true horror of the
experience was when his love would get so excited in her delirium that she
would begin to masturbate, driving herself to orgasm. Restraining her did no
good, it only made her dreams more vivid, prolonged her passion.
Then there had been his damage, the guilt he'd felt wishing she were dead.
In addition, he'd wished himself dead, instead of becoming aroused, watching
her acting out her passion over and over in her fevered delirium. He could
not help, either his thoughts or his sexual response, both had come
Then, her fever had passed, leaving her weak and pale. The women he'd called
to look after her had made it quite clear to them both that her body had been
damaged so badly that conception would be her death sentence. At that time
her pregnancy had only been an unspoken dread.
Then the dread had become a reality. Her belly had begun to swell with his
enemy's child. The child that would surely kill her.
He'd married her anyway, living chaste with her until her death, during
childbirth, seven months later.
With the death of his young wife, Chingis Kahn had been left totally alone in
Two things had changed the day his wife had died. Chingis Kahn had become
the enemy of all mankind, and bondage had become his only sexual outlet.
He'd taken the orphaned little girl as his own and made her his only heir.
He never again married.
Then, he'd found Tasha. She too, had possessed the sexual energy to overcome
her pain and enjoy her Master's rape of her person. The kind of energy his
wife had had, before she'd been destroyed.
He'd been fucking Tasha mercilessly for twenty minutes before he'd known what
she had been doing. Instead of fighting to get away from him, as he'd always
thought he wanted his women to do, she'd been struggling against her bonds in
order to find ways to make the sex better. Better for them both.
He'd felt a barrier deep inside himself that he'd built twenty nine years
before, crumbling, letting his grief flow away at last. For the very first
time ever, he untied a woman before having his orgasm.
At first, he'd simply felt that she had earned a reward. He'd intended to
just cut off the punishment ropes, leaving the chains on her limbs. But
seeing her pleasure at being released, seeing how she'd used her limited
freedom to better serve him, gave him the idea of having her irons cut off
too. He'd sent for the blacksmith and gone back to fucking her while they'd
waited. (It had been about then that he'd removed her dentist's blocks so
that she could return his kisses.)
She still had not been able to talk, the numbness in her throat not having
worn off as yet, but she'd now been able to make some croaking noises. Her
voice had been coming back, slowly.
When the Smith had come in, accompanied by the Chancellor, they'd been
sitting on his throne cushions with her in his lap, his hard cock up to it's
hilt in her asshole. Without bothering to stop fucking, the Kahn had ordered
the man get ready to remove Tasha's irons.
Without thinking, the Chancellor had objected, pointing out who she was.
For one last brief second the old Chingis Kahn surfaced, his murderous rage
clear on his face.
Eighteen years before, a man had pointed out to Chingis Kahn that the
daughter of his wife did not necessarily have to be his daughter. The darkly
bloodstained lance upon which that man's body had rotted was still used as a
decoration in the Kahn's throne room. It had taken the man three days to
die, the iron blade piercing his bowels deeper with every shifting of the
pile of Loose sand under his feet. The Chancellor was, at that moment,
convinced that he too had condemned himself to die as that man had, impaled
upon a spear. Instead, the Kahn had laughed, never ceasing to bounce Tasha
up and down his throbbing cock. "Yes . . . " He'd laughed, breathless from
his continuing exertions, his hands down between her thighs, fingering her
inflamed sex. "She is. . . who . . . you say . . . she is . . . But I .
. . I . . . I . . . AM KAHN!"
He'd come then, his seed spurting high up into Tasha's gripping rectum.
As soon as the woman had stopped milking her master of his seed, first with
her clenching anus, then with her lips, the smith had set to work cutting off
her irons, both wrist and ankle.
During this time, while part of her had been fucking her master with
everything she'd had, her subconscious had been dealing with the question of
why Batu had been arrested. Then, in a moment of absolute clarity, she'd
known. Bain bad been trying to get here, before the Kahn, in order to warn
him of his brother's treachery.
Still unable to speak, Tasha had used her own spit to draw a picture on the
polished floor of a man being beheaded. Then she'd pointed at it and the
Kahn repeatedly until he'd finally understood.
"That is me?" He'd asked, pointing to the picture. "Who would kill the Kahn?"
Tasha held out two fingers on her left hand. She pointed first at one, then
at him. Then she'd pointed at the other finger and at the picture drying on
the floor between her legs. "My little brother?" He'd laughed. "You needn't
have worried, I know what he's up to. He thinks I don't know, but I've
already taken steps to pull his fangs." Then turning to his Chancellor who
was still shaking in reaction to his recent brush with death, he said. "I
believe it is time to carry out that operation we talked about. I had hoped
my brother would be smarter than this, but I guess he's been listening to too
much bad council."
After the Chancellor and smith had left, Kahn had said. "You believed I was
in danger, and you tried to protect me from that danger. I want you to know
that the Kahn is grateful and that you will be rewarded."
Then, slowly, the numbness in her throat had worn off and she'd been able to
tell him about Batu and how he'd been arrested by his brother's men for the
crime of trying to warn the Kahn.
Thus alerted, the Kahn had sent word, ordering the release of Batu from his
brother's dungeon, saving him at the last minute from the headman's axe.
When they'd brought in the traitors, Tasha had been dressed in an embroidered
silk robe and given a seat of honor, beside the Kahn on his throne platform.
Batu had been put in charge of the prisoner coffle as a reward for his
efforts in the Kahn's behalf. Tasha had been so busy looking at him, that
she'd nearly missed noticing who had been in coffle right behind the Kahn's
brother. Father Cassini too, had found a way to prosper among the Mongols,
rising to the position of advisor to the Kahn's only brother. It had been
Father Cassini's thirst for even more power that had led to the coup attempt.
The Mongols had learned that showing respect for a man's religion was the
easiest way to keep him from revolting. Therefore, they showed their respect
for Father Cassini's by crucifying him.
Unfortunately, the good Father had not died well, renouncing his Savior
several times in his vain attempts at getting down from his cross.
Tasha had continued to live in the Kahn's apartment even after her advancing
pregnancy had made it obvious to everyone who could count that she had been
impregnated while still with the squad of common soldiers. It hadn't seemed
to matter to the Kahn, and if it mattered to anyone else, they'd kept
sensibly quiet about it.
When Tasha's time had come, she had been strapped to the birthing couch, her
legs up out of the midwive's way, her hands fastened down to the sides. This
had been as a precaution against what had happened before. If the child were
a girl, tradition would demand that it be killed. The Kahn was the Kahn, but
in the East, tradition bears much weight.
Chingis Kahn, having grown up in a society which killed female infants as a
matter of routine, could not understand Tasha's horror at the thought. To
him, letting a half-breed girl live would be a needless political risk. He'd
had enough pressures on him, he hadn't needed to defy tradition as well.
The three old women had chattered on and on about how they were sure that
this child would be a boy, as big as her belly had grown.
Again, Tasha's labor had been short and intense, the baby coming out in a
rush of water like a cork from a bottle. Tasha had fought her restraints,
trying to lift herself to see her baby. She'd already known her worst fears
had again come true. If the midwives had had good news for her she would
have already been told. Their sudden, tight lipped silence had told her that
this child would also be killed.
Tasha had screamed out her anguish, fighting her restraints. The midwife had
hurriedly wrapped up the child and walked from the room.
Outside, the Kahn had accepted the bundle from the midwife, cringing at the
screams still coming from the other room. He'd then opened the wrappings and
begun his traditional inspection, judging if the child were "worthy".
Speaking to himself more than to the midwife, he said. "Now I see why these
half breeds are killed. This is perhaps the most misshapen little girl I've
The midwife, bold because she'd been the Kahn's wet-nurse, said. "Nonsense!
She's only a mixture of our features with Tasha's. Who knows what she'll
look like in fifteen years."
"But she'll never be accepted." The Kahn had said.
"Who is Kahn?" Said the old woman, hoping she wasn't going too far. "Surely
the Mighty Kahn does not need an infant's death to keep his throne?"
Just then, there had been a call from Tasha's room. The old woman had rushed
back in, leaving the Kahn holding the wiggling little bundle. "If only you
weren't So Ugly." He'd whispered to the child, counting toes.
When the red mist of pain had lifted from Tasha's eyes, she'd first seen the
Kahn standing over her, a tiny bundle cradled in each of his strong arms. "I
am beginning to think you are indeed a witch." He'd said softly. "I find
that even if it means my throne, I cannot let these two come to harm."
"May I see them?" Tasha had said, feeling the rejoicing midwives un-strapping
"They're not pretty." He'd warned, carefully transferring his bundles to her
arms. When he'd gently pulled back the blankets, Tasha had seen what he'd
meant. Even to her mother's eye the two had looked strange. The mixture of
Mongol and European features would take much getting used to. She'd known,
that among the boys born to the European slave girls, the ugliness had
moderated with growth. What no one yet knew was what a female of mixed race
would look like, given a chance to grow.
Now, as Tasha knelt beside the big tub, she could not tell, being their
mother, that the two little girls were becoming quite beautiful. Soon, any
man who would reject a mixed race girl solely because of looks, would be
considered a fool.
The hand on Tasha's rump had become insidious, his fingers finding their way
between her legs to toy with her already swelling sex.
Tasha, her face still frozen for the benefit of the babies, continued to
bathe them, only her deepening blush and ragged breathing betraying her
The Kahn chuckled at her sexual readiness and asked softly. "Are you a
Tasha turned her face toward her Master, looked into his black eyes, and
said. "I am only a woman who did what she had to do to stay alive."
By the time of Chingis Kahn's death, five years later, Tasha's power in the
palace had grown to the point that her enemies had been happy to settle for
her retirement to a large villa in the south of China. Two months later, she
bore the Kahn his last child, a boy who, raised as a son by her new "Master",
Batu Subudey, would go far as an trusted ally of the Kahn's only surviving
"legitimate" heir, Kubli Kahn.