FIRE

Too late. Iolaus began to turn, his sword coming up to parry the blow. But as he turned he was moving into the path of the descending blade. He never had a chance to avoid it.

When the summons came, Iolaus followed the message-bearer passively, without a word. The woman stared at his body openly; he ignored it, used to it by now. Just one of the many prices he paid. It was weeks since she had summoned him last. The palace had been full of rumours of trouble. All Iolaus had known for sure was that he’d been left alone.

As he entered her chamber he felt the familiar tightening in his guts: more anticipation than fear, never sure until she spoke what mood she would be in. Kelosia was seated on her throne when he entered the chamber. With a gesture she told him where to stand, and he moved to the spot she indicated, sinking gracefully to his knees.

"Stand up," she ordered.

He obeyed, keeping his eyes on the floor.

She rose from the throne and walked around him slowly. "Well…I should neglect you more often. I’m impressed." She ran a long-nailed finger down his spine.

Iolaus drew in his breath sharply, feeling the blood rush to his groin at her touch. His shoulders, stiff and tense before, began to relax. He had pleased her.

He walked to where she wanted him, between two pillars, and waited. In moments she had him arranged between the pillars, his hands above his head, resting against the marble, his legs apart, chained into position at wrist and ankle. The position left him exposed and horribly vulnerable and he hated it, yet knowing she knew that, knowing it excited her, excited him. Kelosia liked to watch. Yet Iolaus was one of her favourites; sometimes, if he was able to please her with a good show, he was allowed to pleasure her. It was for those moments he lived.

Kelosia ran a finger lightly across his hard penis. Iolaus stopped breathing. She smiled slightly and turned away, leaving him there.

"You’re here for my pleasure, not yours," she told him.

Iolaus hung his head, warmth flooding his cheeks. "Forgive me, my lady," he said, with all the humility he could manage. "I meant no disrespect." Yet there was a tiny spark of defiance inside him, still. He had slipped up; but she had provoked it, wanted him to look at her. He wondered why. He knew why: she liked his defiance, his pride. She liked to break him.

"You’re not sorry at all, Iolaus. But you will be." Kelosia clapped her hands together, once. Another slave appeared from behind the screen. "Bring Nerilla," she ordered.

Iolaus, not wanting to incur her further displeasure, kept his eyes lowered, his gaze on the marble floor. But with his peripheral vision he was straining to see her. Kelosia had gone over to the cupboard where she kept her toys, had opened it and was examining the contents carefully. She extracted several items and closed the cupboard. Iolaus recognised the largest item with a shudder equally of fear and disgust with himself for knowing that he wanted it.

The summoned slave entered the chamber. Iolaus didn’t recognise her. She was exotic: a tiny figure, dark-skinned and dark-haired. She wasn’t a child but she looked young, maybe seventeen years old. She was naked, as he was, but with a difference: between her legs gleamed a silver cage which enclosed, but did not conceal, her sexual organs, held in place by a tight chain about her waist.

Iolaus recognised the threat implicit in Kelosia’s choice.

Nerilla did not even look at Iolaus, kneeling gracefully in front of Kelosia. The position she assumed — her feet together, her knees spread apart, straight-backed with her head held high — displayed her body to her mistress’ eyes. Kelosia lifted a strand of Nerilla’s glossy hair to her lips, then let it fall, her eyes never leaving Iolaus.

"You’re not the only slave who needs to learn a lesson, Iolaus. Turn around, girl." Kelosia waited as the girl obeyed, assuming the same position in front of Iolaus. "Take a good look, Iolaus." Kelosia was walking around him as she spoke, holding a long, flexible switch in one hand. From behind him, she asked, "What do you think of her, Iolaus? Does she attract you?"

A loaded question. Nerilla was a beautiful girl. Too young for his taste, but her breasts jutted out pertly and her stomach looked firm. The cage she wore was enticing, it marked her as forbidden…and Iolaus, with his rebellious nature, was too fond of forbidden fruit.

"If it pleases you, my lady," he replied carefully. He gasped as she swung the switch at his bare buttocks, just once. Kelosia was in an unpredictable mood, he realised…or perhaps no reply he gave would have pleased her. The pain he felt — a single sharp line of fire across his buttocks — scared him because he knew there would be more to come. He was vulnerable to her every whim, chained here. She could do anything that crossed her mind, and he knew she would.

"Let’s try that again, shall we?" she suggested silkily. "Does she attract you, Iolaus?" The tip of the switch caressed his cheek, trailed down the front of his body to his genitals where his manhood was hard and throbbing.

"Yes, my lady," he answered.

The switch touched his manhood, then disappeared behind Kelosia’s back. "Yes, I can see that she does," she told him, amusement plain in her tone. "Or is that for me?"

"It’s yours, my lady. I belong to you." The expected answer.

Her smile became dangerous. "Yes," she said firmly, with just the slightest hint of a threat. "You do." She slipped a ring of gold over his cock.

The metal was cold against his skin. The warmth of her fingers made him catch his breath. How he lived for just the merest touch from her!

She stepped back, raising the switch in front of his eyes. Very slowly, she ran her hand along it. Then she was behind him again and began to beat him with the switch. He was ready for it, now, amply warned. Kelosia was merciless; every part of his back received her blows, his back and shoulders, his thighs, his arms. He flinched away from the blows, as far as his chains would allow. He clamped his lips shut, determined not to cry out. It was a losing battle and he knew it, she knew he knew it. But his pride wouldn’t let him give in without a fight.

He consciously relaxed his body as much as he could, moving with the pain as his flesh heated and then burned. The pain forced its way out of his mouth in a strangled cry. He swayed, tears pouring down his face as sweat poured down his body. He found he was anticipating where the next blow would fall, needing it, craving it in a way he would never understand. She never stopped, the blows even increasing in savagery as she worked, directing the movements of his helpless body according to her will. It was horrible that she should see him this way, helpless and weeping, trapped by his futile struggle to escape the pain. That she was doing this with Nerilla watching only increased his humiliation. And every lash sent a wave of pain throughout his body…together with a wave of need to his groin.

Finally, it was over, and Iolaus hung there, too exhausted to move, his eyes as red as his back, his throat raw, his head hanging down. His penis harder than ever.

"Look. At. Me."

With a superhuman effort, he straightened, supporting his own weight again, and raising his head to look at her. There was no trace of pride, or defiance left. Iolaus was hers, completely, and she knew it.

"Nerilla," she said.

The young girl was staring at Iolaus, her eyes wide. He met her wondering eyes, then tore his gaze away. She acted as if this was the first time she had witnessed Kelosia’s pleasures. Maybe it was the first time… That chastity belt she wore…was the girl a virgin?

"Come, Nerilla," Kelosia said again, and the girl rose gracefully to her feet. "I want you to examine this slave for me," Kelosia said.

Iolaus almost stopped breathing, then he realised Kelosia had been addressing the girl. Whatever she had planned, he would rather be done to than forced to abuse this innocent girl. Yet even as the virtuous thought entered his mind, he was picturing his pale hands against her dark skin, wondering if it would be as soft as it looked.

Kelosia settled herself on her throne. "Begin with his face," she instructed. "Is his skin smooth?"

Iolaus fought to stay impassive as he felt Nerilla’s fingers gentle on his cheek.

"It is, my lady," Nerilla said. Her voice was like music, trembling slightly.

"And his lips? Tell me how it would feel to kiss him."

Nerilla’s finger’s feathered across his lips. "His mouth is soft, my lady. I believe his kiss would be…pleasing."

"Continue."

Nerilla’s hand moved down his throat. "The neck is strong, my lady. The muscles of his shoulders are firm and his skin is smooth." Her hand swept down his chest and her fingers circled a nipple. Iolaus was trembling. "His chest is hard. The flesh is without blemish. My lady, his nipples are…responsive."

A sigh escaped him. He was being treated like a side of meat examined in the market place. It was surprising she hadn’t asked to see his teeth! Iolaus knew his body was good; it was, after all, the reason Kelosia kept him around. It was humiliating and degrading, to Nerilla as much as to him. Yet he was acutely aware of Kelosia’s eyes on him, following the slave girl’s every touch, and he once again relaxed to her will.

Nerilla’s hands moved down to his stomach, pressing lightly. "His abdomen, too is firm to the touch, my lady."

"And his back, Nerilla?"

Relief chased fear across Iolaus’ features as the young slave moved around to his back. He feared her touch on the skin that had been beaten so thoroughly. His back and buttocks still felt like they were on fire…and would for quite some time, he knew.

Nerilla’s hands were cool on his burning flesh. Soothing. He relaxed with some relief. Out of Kelosia’s direct sight, she caressed his heated skin with more confidence, keeping up a commentary as she did so. Iolaus began to feel pleased by her approval, even knowing she wouldn’t dare to criticise her mistress’ favourite pet.

Kelosia sounded bored as she issued her next instruction. "What about his cock, Nerilla?"

Iolaus heard the girl gasp. Come on, Nerilla, do as she says, he urged silently. He knew they would both suffer if she failed. Nerilla moved around the pillars again, and reached out to touch him. Iolaus gritted his teeth, trying vainly to show no reaction as her hand encircled him.

"The — the skin is soft, my lady," Nerilla stammered.

"How does he taste?"

She hesitated. Iolaus held his breath.

Kelosia leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. "How. Does. He. Taste?"

Nerilla knelt in front of him. Closing her eyes, she took his erect member into her mouth. Iolaus groaned. She released his member quickly. "He tastes…clean, my lady. It is not unpleasant."

"And what do you think of her now, Iolaus?" Kelosia asked him. "Was her touch pleasing to you? Her mouth sweet? Would you like her to continue?"

Oh, no, please, no. This is torture, this is cruel. Don’t do this to us, please don’t.

What he said was, "If it would give you pleasure, my lady."

Her smile was like a snake’s. "I think," she said meditatively, "that it would." She rose from the throne and moved toward them. Her hand resting lightly on Nerilla’s head, she pushed her face toward Iolaus’ groin again. Nerilla took him inside her mouth, but clearly hadn’t a clue what to do next.

Kelosia gave her detailed instructions: keep your lips firm, move your mouth up and down his shaft…that’s right…now use your tongue, and suck a little…

He groaned deep in his throat, the strain of holding himself back as Nerilla tried to obey was torture.

Kelosia was behind him, her hands grasping his buttocks, a hand sliding between his legs to cup his scrotum…her silk-clad body pressed against his back and the pain of that touch fired the pleasure in his penis and balls even more…a moan of frustration escaped his lips and it became a whimper.

Then there was Kelosia’s voice, quiet in his ear: "You may come." She bit down hard on the sensitive skin of his neck as he shouted with relief and pain and overwhelming pleasure and came and came and came…

Suddenly his hands were free of the chains and his body sagged. Iolaus caught himself in time and stood up straight, lowering his aching arms to his sides. Nerilla was still kneeling before him, a pearly-white trickle of semen dripping down from her lips. Iolaus flushed with shame, aware of how much his pleasure had cost the girl, hating himself for allowing her to be used…for being the one who used her.

Then his ankles were freed, too. Iolaus stayed where he was, waiting for orders. He did not have to wait long.

"Step away from the pillar." Kelosia waited for Iolaus to obey, then directed Nerilla to take his place. She made Iolaus fasten the chains at the girl’s wrists and ankles. Then she handed him the switch.

Iolaus accepted it with trembling hands. He didn’t want this, not at all. But Kelosia only laughed and told him to put the switch away. He couldn’t hide his relief as he obeyed, and couldn’t help his eyes wandering over some of the other toys in the cupboard. He closed it quickly and returned to kneel in front of Kelosia, keeping his head down.

"Did she please you, Iolaus?"

Dangerous question…dangerous. He hesitated, then answered, "She did, my lady. Thank you."

It seemed to be the right reply. "Well," she smiled, "now you can show your gratitude."

"How may I serve you, my lady?"

"By putting that talented mouth of yours to better use than just talk." Kelosia leaned over him, her glorious hair brushing the burning flesh of his back. Her hands moved lightly down his arms, drawing his hands together behind his back. He shivered at the gentle touch. Then he felt and heard the snap as she locked his manacles together. He bowed his head submissively.

Kelosia settled herself on the throne and beckoned to him. "Come. Impress me."

Iolaus moved toward her, awkwardly, on his knees. She parted her legs for him, moving the thin silk aside. Kelosia’s genital area was completely free of hair, as smooth as a child’s. Her pale thighs, revealed to his hungry eyes, glistened with moisture…she had enjoyed watching him, so far.

"My lady?" he breathed, asking permission to touch.

"Impress me," she repeated, her voice holding the slightest hint of a threat.

He dipped his head to kiss her, his tongue darting out to taste her flowing juices. His body trembled at his first taste of her…she always did have this amazing effect on him. His earlier resistance to her will was gone, he felt nothing but the desperate desire to please her, not for any hoped-for reward, but for her.

His mobile tongue found and circled her centre of pleasure; he felt her move in response. He teased her opening, sliding his tongue inside her a little way, then withdrawing, entering and withdrawing, first slowly, then increasing the speed as much as he dared. Kelosia tasted like no other woman he had ever known, her essence sweet, like cinnamon. Iolaus felt her hand on his golden curls as she held him where she wanted him. He knew her other hand would be restlessly roaming her own body, playing with her nipples, perhaps. He heard her moan with delight as he returned to her clitoris and began to play with it, teasing the hard little nub with his tongue, now with firm strokes, now tantalisingly light. Her hand gripped him tighter, bringing pain.

Greatly daring, he sucked her clit into his mouth, rewarded beyond measure by her gasp. He continued the circling motions of his tongue, getting faster and faster as she began to moan her pleasure, tasting the hot rush of her juices as she cried out sharply with her orgasm. He did not rest, but continued to massage her nub and she climaxed again almost at once.

"Enough!" she gasped.

Iolaus drew away from her, somehow resisting the urge to lick his lips clean, keeping his head bowed, his eyes lowered. He looked down at himself: the ring she had placed around his manhood kept him partially hard, but there was nothing half-hearted about his erection now. He wondered at himself, that serving her could be so exciting for him…but then, it has always been so.

Iolaus was torn between hoping she had finished with him and never wanting to leave her presence. He knew better than to hope she would allow him another climax; if she let him go he could take care of it himself. But she knew that, and she liked to keep him frustrated.

Kelosia bent forward and grasped his hard manhood firmly. "Now, what should I do with this?" she purred.

Iolaus closed his eyes briefly. This was not going to be fun for him.

"Follow me," she ordered abruptly, letting go of him and rising from her throne. He stood, with some difficulty: he had been on his knees a long time and his hands were still bound. He followed her as she disappeared behind a curtain of muslin. Iolaus could feel Nerilla’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look her way.

Kelosia released his hands. "Down," she ordered.

Iolaus knew this ritual. Behind the curtain was a platform of polished wood. It was slightly convex. He lay down compliantly, on his back, stretching his arms out to the sides where chains waited at the edges of the platform. He expected she would tie him down again — she usually did, in here — but Kelosia merely looked at him for a moment, then turned away and began to undress. He wanted to watch; to drink in the sight of her perfect body, but he didn’t dare.

With no further preparation she climbed astride him, lowering herself onto his erection. His breath sighed out of him with a sigh and he closed his eyes…then opened them again quickly as the darkness only intensified the sensation of her delicious heat surrounding him.

"Look at me," she asked, her voice husky with her need.

He obeyed helplessly. She was glorious. Sliding herself up and down his shaft with perfect control, her eyes boring into his, claiming him as hers, her beautiful face flushed with her pleasure. Iolaus bit his lip, hard, drawing blood, fighting to ignore or at least distance himself from the incredible sensations as she pleasured herself on his body. His hands twitched, he wanted so much to reach for her, to touch and maybe even to taste her breasts.

She noted the movement. "Give me your hand," she whispered.

He let her take his hand and she guided it between her legs, leaning back to let him access her clitoris. Oh, she was cruel! Yet, intoxicated by knowing what he could — would — do for her, Iolaus stroked her gently as she continued to move above him. He knew without being told when to increase the pace, bringing her to an explosive climax and she screamed her pleasure like a vixen in heat. Iolaus fought for control as the strong muscles within her pulsed around his member. He couldn’t stay silent.

She knew how he struggled and relished it. Mercifully, she remained still, allowing him to regain that edge of control. Then she began to move again, with more purpose this time. She leaned forward grasping his nipples, pulling and twisting at the flesh, each new sensation sending the need down his body in waves. She knew how to prolong the pleasure until it was pleasure no longer, it was agony and he wanted to beg to be allowed to come but he couldn’t he was so far beyond speech or even thought.

And he realised it was over. She lay beside, not above him and she kissed him on the lips, pushing her tongue into his mouth, one of her breasts grazing his chest.

"My lady…please!!"

"You want to come, Iolaus?"

(YES!!) "If it would please my lady."

Her mouth widened in a smile. "You don’t fool me for a moment, boy." She paused, pretending to consider, while he waited in agony. "Go ahead. You’ve earned it. Come for me."