Foreword: The following is a work of fiction, dealing with sexual fantasies, adult sex, bondage and discipline. If any these previously mentioned things would cause you and yours embarrassment or indignation, please do not read any further. This work of fiction is intended for the aforementioned audience, whom hopefully will enjoy, gain a smile from the work and share with others of a like mind. "Surrender" Written by the property of GingerBlue splatter_GB December 18, 2000 Dazed and confused I arise, as the sound of battle diminishes around me, I wonder what has happened. Our scouts had had picked up the sign of other forces in our woods, we had set an ambush in a narrow gully where we held the high ground, save for a small ravine which ran behind us. Their attack must have come from there nothing else would have decimated our forces this completely. I reach for my broad and short swords, preparing to fight on to the death. "Hold commander," I whirl around to see vision of loveliness dressed in polished black leather thigh high boots, leather pleated skirt resembling that of the Roman legion, auburn hair flowing in the wind, silver breast plate shining in the sun, blue eyes blazing, mounted upon a brown stallion. I continue reaching for my weapons, as an arrow strikes next my hand. "I said hold, you foolish man, the next arrow will cripple you," the auburn vixen proclaimed. "What would you have me do, witch?" I angrily ask. "If you wish to live, kneel and swear allegiance to me otherwise continue to reach for your swords and an arrow will pierce your heart. Know however commander should you choose death, you make that choice for your remaining troops as well, wounded and well alike," she calmly stated as she smiled. Bile boiled in my throat at the thought, I could not and would not sacrifice any more of my troops in a lost cause. Throwing the one regained sword to the ground, I kneel and ask, "To whom am I swearing allegiance, may I ask?" The auburn haired leader laughed as she answered, "Princess Ginger Azure of Gor, for now my dark one. A time will come when you will beg for permission to call me Mistress." "How did you defeat us may I ask, our people have defeated the fierce Roman Legions in these woods previously." I asked. "Oh we know of your exploits commander, we knew of your ambush points as well, you failed to secure the small ravine above and behind you and were outflanked before you knew it," the auburn temptress proclaimed. "Besides one of your brothers helped." "One our men, told how to defeat us," I asked unbelieving. "Oh yes, commander. Anthony, present yourself," She commanded. My eyes could not believe what they saw, my brother in arms of many campaigns stepped forward dressed in a purple slave toga wearing a collar of submission. I screamed, "Traitor" and reached for my sword as an arrow grazed my arm. Falling to my knees in defeat I ask. "May I princess at least, stand and declare hold and save the lives of both your and my own troops," I asked. "You may" she replied a small grin spreading across her face. I stood, looking down the battle line, and screamed "HOLD" to my remaining troops, "The battle is over, and we have lost, my brave ones." "You are compassionate and wise, commander. You are truly a prize," the princess slowly pronounced. "Now come swear your allegiance." Watching out the corner of my eye, I observed my men being treated fairly, fairly as anyone whom has lost a battle in this time of ours could expect. The princess's troops were placing neck irons linked by six foot of chain forming a line of slaves for those still intact from the battle. The dead and dying were left as they lay, and the wounded allowed the treatments available to them. "Thank you, Princess Ginger Azure of Gor, for the fair treatment of my men," I uttered as my knees found their way to the ground. "I would hope you would have done the same, dark one had the results been in your favor," she replied. "I formerly of the woodlands and defender of our people, do swear allegiance to Princess Ginger Azure of Gor, forbearing all other allegiances to any and all things, I shall serve her in any and all things," I loudly pronounced so that my troops might hear and obey. "Well done commander now you may join your troops, for the long walk to Gor," the princess smugly stated. "But commander we have a special treat for you, something to teach you how to bow that proud head of yours." That being said, I found myself being strapped to a St. Andrew's cross, the heavy wooden X to become my companion for the duration of the long journey back to Gor. My wrists and forearms at the elbow were lashed tightly to the cross topmost members, and a short tether line secured to my chest to prevent me from pulling the cross over my shoulders and walking head high. I was placed in the procession, behind the mounted and marching victorious troops from Gor to eat their dust, but ahead of my troops so that they might witness my humiliation. Upon reaching the first nights campsite my hopes of being released from bondage were dashed, as I was stripped naked and fully lashed to the wooden cross. Poles were placed to secure the cross upright, close enough to the main campfire that I would not freeze to death, but far enough away to keep me shivering in the cold night air. This only a portion of my continued humiliation, as Princess Ginger Azure gave her troops the following chilling command. "Use him as you please. Know however he is my property and not to be permanently damaged." Many things can be done to one that cause no visible permanent damage, my friends I shall only recount the most memorable. The ones that still cause me to wake in the middle of night, trembling in a cold sweat. The men under the Princess Ginger's command did little to cause damage choosing instead to sit and watch the women of Gor work their art form. The women came in groups of five or more commenting on my body, whispering their plans for me, watching my eyes for signs of terror. They then came, one at a time each, bringing their own unique tortures. The first brought a firebrand from the fire, placing the butt end in the ground, positioning the fire just below my genitals she laughed as she said, "Something to warm you, slave." That being done she commenced to torture my body, pulling my sac closer to the fire "Warmer, now?" she asked as she slowly twisted my sac. I had spent time under Roman hand as a young man, their cruelty not as subtle as this, as the long scars across my chest and back would testify. I had steeled myself for this, hoping to provide an example in courage to my troops. My lack of response to my inquisitor only increased her resolve to bring forth a whimper of pain. I was still fairly fresh, the days march only being seven hours long, I held steadfast to my silence, savoring this small victory for now. She left in a huff, turning me over to the next temptress. The next brought small rope and slowly bound my sac, separating my balls and forming a scale of sorts with them attaching water pitchers to each. She then proceeded to slowly fill each with water explaining to me as she laughed it was my job to level the scales, knowing it was an impossible task as there was too much separation between the two pitchers to allow for the two to balance. She gleefully filled first one, then the second pitcher attempting to find balance and laughing at my discomfort. "Can you not find balance, slave?" she laughed, "Perhaps sister's firebrand would help." She then took the firebrand passing it near my sac, singeing the hair from my sac and legs, causing the nauseous smell of burnt hair to rise to my nostrils. She held the fire to one of the pitcher cords until it burnt through, parting and spilling the cold contents of the pitcher over my legs and feet. Her laughter increased, as she observed my suddenly increased discomfort as her rig in fact had been a scale of sorts, the sudden loss of one counter weight causing increased weight to tug fiercely at the still attached remaining pitcher. She then added additional water to the remaining pitcher, smiling as she watched the pain grow in my eyes, pausing and giving the pitcher a push to create a pendulum of pain. Standing, she then stood and whispered softly in my ear, "We have just begun, to have fun, slave." That being said she beckoned to a waiting sister, who brought with her carved wooden pins of sorts. The purpose of these devices was not immediately obvious to me the sisters however, took little time to demonstrate their function. Grabbing a handful of nearby snow, one temptress proceeded rubbing the cold snow over my nipples, though given the cold temperature this was not needed to cause my nipples to stand prominently at attention, my thoughts being this was just additional punishment. The second then slide the wooden pins over each of my nipples, then commenced tightening their grip by working small tight half hitches over the open end of the clamps causing them to tightly bind and hold my nipples for display and additional torture. Reattached the pitcher to the parted cord and filling it to the brim, they then ran cord from the clamps to the pitchers, allowing some slack, the purpose of the slack becoming painfully obvious as they gave first one then the second pitcher a none to gentle push, the slack quickly taken up by the pendulum travel of the pitchers, alternating the pull of each nipple. A round of applause went up from the assembled onlookers at the sight, a dark skinned former warrior, reduced to a gaudy display, his nipples pulled by pin and cord, his balls blue from the torture of the swinging pendulum pitchers, full of water, tears of pain flowing from his brown eyes. One temptress smiling first at the applause, then turning to me reached for more snow, forming it in her hands before cramming it between the cheeks of my ass, laughing she said "You'll be wishing for more of this ointment, before this evening is done, slave." Giving each of the damned pitchers a vicious shove she and her sister in pain, turned and left me to ponder her last words as I silently suffered, in cold and pain. The cold was bone numbing, a steady wind carrying the cutting misery, the campfire not near enough to warm and comfort, providing just enough warmth to keep me from finding death's release from this hell. The pain was providing warmth, if the burning in my groin and chest could be called warmth; it at least gave my mind a diversion from the cold. It was my mind, not my body, they had succeeded in cracking the wonderings of what was next to come, causing more distress than the tortures thus far delivered. They with their experiences from past captives must have known this, as they left me to my thoughts, tempered with the pain and cold for quite some time, before returning. Two males brought forth a heavy wooden sawhorse, cut loose my bindings, any attempt to struggle long gone from my blood drained arms, bending me over the sawhorse, they tied my arms to one side of the horse and my legs to the other, leaving my ass and groin high in the air. Thankfully, they did remove the water pitcher weights from my now swollen and blue sac. This task done without a word they then turned and left, leaving me again to ponder what next awaited me. My wait was not long, as two females in heavy, hooded black cloaks appeared shortly, carrying themselves in a air of superiority, they proceeded to berate and belittle me, short crops appearing from under their cloaks, they added to the verbal abuse with short punishing strokes to my legs, back and ass. "You still think yourself a commander, slave?" one asked as she took my still bound sac in her hand, twisting it slowly. Silence had become my only way to fight back. "Sister, please pull these remnants of rope binding and stretch this slave's sac, so that I might properly punish him for his silence." "But of course, my sister I would be honored to help you," the second witch replied as she grasped the cord and stretched my swollen, tortured sac away from my body. Thwack! The first blow landed bringing a new level a pain to an already abused portion of my body. "Can you count, slave? Surely even woodlands people should be able to count to ten," the witch administering the punishment asked. "Count these strokes out loud or I shall teach you how to count to twenty." Through clenched teeth I responded, "One." "Look sister, the dark one can speak," the temptress delivering the blows laughed as she continued with her strokes. I mechanically counted each stroke delivered, foolishly believing that she was as good as her word, I jumped against my restraints when the eleventh stroke landed. "Oh slave, did you think I was stopping at ten?" she laughed at my surprise, "I told you I was going to teach you how to count to twenty." I continued my stoic count, listening to the onlookers roar in laughter at her humor, a dark humor that I in my humble position, could find nothing funny about. "Sister Mercy, do you have the salve for this slave?" the black-hearted witch asked as she delivered the final blow. "Oh but of course, Sister Charity," Sister Mercy gleefully answered producing a small vial from under her cloak. My mind now reeling from the pain, the humiliation, and the cold was not ready for this sort of kindness. I was to find their kindness wanting, as the salve of which they spoke was yet another form of punishment and torture. Pouring a liberal amount of the thick oil over my swollen and bruised sac, taking time to work it over my flaccid cock before worming a finger into my exposed ass and pouring a little more. "Slave, I can see from your scars you have spent some time under Roman hand, tell me did they have these?" and with that she opened her cloak to show a large gleaming cock-like device attached to a harness she was wearing. "It is formed from copper, hammered and formed smooth, sister has one like it, only larger; I am hoping you know what we intend to do with them," she smiled as she reached down to stroke it, coating it with more of the salve. My racing mind, had devised many tortures to endure, it had not however, given birth to the idea of being raped repeatedly by two women whom looked as though, they would thoroughly enjoy the prospect, especially with such a large audience. As the slow realization of what was to come next spread over my distressed face, a cackle of laughter rose from the assembled onlookers. "Ah dark one, do you have a virgin man puss to give sister and I?" Sister Charity laughingly asked. "How is that salve helping you?" The last question bringing to me the realization that the salve, which had been warm and soothing, was now almost hot bring added sensation to an already tortured body. "Imagine, brown-skinned one, our salve deep within you, to warm you on this cold night," Sister Charity asked as her hands found their way to my ass cheeks spreading them wide as she pressed her cold copper cock against my rosebud, maintaining pressure until she gained entrance. "Oh you are a tight virgin, my sweet dark-skinned bitch," she exclaimed as she continued probing with her ten inch cock, sliding in and out slowly adding more of her salve with each out stroke to both lubricate and add to my torment. This was not her first attempt at taking a man, as she slowly worked her cock deeper into me, I could hear her breathing change to short quick excited breaths, matching those of a woman nearing orgasm. Sister Mercy bided her time, caressing her Sister Charity's breasts, pouring more salve over Sister Charity's cock as it was driven in and out my tortured ass, and stroking my back with her short crop encouraging her sister to tame the slut. My ass unused to such abuse, burned from the salve they continued to lubricate deep within me, and bleed from having never been used in such a manner. "Look Charity, you have broken the virgin's cherry," Sister Mercy squealed as she saw the flow, "Imagine when I have my turn at the slut." Sister Charity continued pounding at my ass, riding her cock as she buried to the hilt to what I counted, must have been five orgasms. "Ah this is a fine man pussy Sister Mercy, made to be used,' she exclaimed as she fell across my back with her sixth orgasm. I was unused to being used as an object of desire by women and felt shame over my past exploits with women, this humiliation teaching me the error of my former ways. This display must have been a custom of these Gorean folk, as it appeared the majority of the troops as well as their new slaves; my former comrades were assembled to watch the debacle of the former commander. Sister Mercy took her time, torturing me with words before using her larger cock on my ass, "Look up slut, at your new master," she said stroking her cock in one hand. "Suck it my bitch, warm it for that hot ass of yours," she commanded as she took me by the ears and pulled my mouth to her mammoth cock. It was a full four inches longer than what had previously been inserted and at least another inch in girth, causing me to gag as I opened my mouth wide enough to accept it. "That's it slut, take it," she squealed as she grabbed my head and forced the monster further down my throat. I choked and sputtered attempting to comply with her command, my mouth dry already from nothing to eat or drink all day. The two women thinking my gagging to be an act of defiance started landing their short crops to my back and legs. I was past trying defiance, my body and mind sorely tested from just this, the first of many evening's festivities, as I was to learn. Sister Mercy, whom I have no idea who's dark humor named her such, soon moved to my ear, whispering slowly, nearly snarling, "My dark-skinned whore, before I am finished training you, you will beg to be used, I am going to change how you think, how you feel, and what excites you, but tonight I am just going to fuck you till I am unable to cum any longer. Do you understand?" She added with pause for effect these words, "Sister Charity, comes easier than I. I love taking my time riding virgin ass, making it mine as I cover it in my own cum. Did you notice the ridges in my cock, slut? I assure you, your man pussy will." I shivered, visibly and internally at this piece of knowledge, as Sister Charity had been buried in my ass for almost an hour before finishing with me. Sister Mercy then lost little time with foreplay as she strode behind me, slapping my ass several times with her open hands, before firmly grasping my hips, placing the head of her larger cock at my now open ass hole and driving it in slowly, enjoying my low moans of pain as she continued to slowly shove the behemoth device deeper in to me. "Ah, Sister Charity, you were right, this is fine man pussy. We need to teach this slut how to hump back to our cocks, show his appreciation for our servicing him. Do you have more of the salve my Sister? I have run out and only just begun taking this slut to a new understanding of pleasure." My mind, reeling from her words, my ass stretched beyond any limits it had ever know, I silently endured, praying for death, but knowing my fate for now was one worse than death. My face must have given away my thoughts, as Sister Charity came near, pulling my face to hers she gave no encouragement with her words, "Learn to love it, slut. You are now ours to do with as we wish. Death would be permanent damage. Our Mistress's orders were to cause no permanent damage, she however made no mention of painful damage, so get used to our loving. As Sister Mercy said, we are going to train you to love it, train you to beg for our attentions, and slut we shall do just that." Dropping her cock harness, exposing her lovely closely trimmed cunt, she added, "Now slut, clean the mess you made with that tongue of yours." That being said she grabbed my head, pulling it to her still moist cunt, forcing my mouth to service her, her musky aroma, quickly filling my nostrils with a familiar scent as I began slowly tonguing in and out her slit. Sister Mercy, additional lubricant applied continued in her quest to plant her huge cock completely in my ass and laughed as her hand found my cock growing, "Charity, the slut is learning to love our attentions, his cock grows now as I take him," knowing full well, it was Charity's offered slit causing the reaction. My prayer was that, my ass would surrender itself to her advances without splitting wide open. She had been pushing slowly in for what seemed like hours, before she withdrew completely, taking the remaining vial of salve and pouring it directly into my wide open ass hole, this done she continued her assault with a vengeance, plunging eight inches of her monster into me. She then began, rotating the beast, rising up on her toes, bring it left, right, up and down, opening my ass and causing a strange warm, formerly unknown sensation as she continued to rotate her mammoth cock in a maddening corkscrew in my ass. She was touching some gland deep within me with her rotations causing my cock to begin to dribble cum. Sister Mercy laughed telling Sister Charity she had won her bet. "The bet slut, was I could cause you to cum without touching your cock. I have done so by massaging your man clit with my cock, your virgin man pussy did not know it had a clit and you didn't either. Did you enjoy it my dark skinned whore? I hope so but if not, so be it, it is my turn now." And with that she began assaulting my ass in earnest, holding my hips as she drove her monster home, grinding herself into me, before pulling back to slam in again. Time became something measured in heartbeats, minutes and hours being too long a measure, as long as my heart continued to beat, I was still alive. Sister Charity continued to enjoy my tongue as Sister Mercy rode my ass for what seemed to be hours to me, her breathing growing shallow and fast as she came again and again, pausing to enjoy her pleasure for brief moments before continuing her pounding, her fingers leaving their imprint on the cheeks of my ass as she slapped it exhorting me to hump back to her cock. Shamefully towards the end of the torment, my body betrayed my mind and began to respond to her advances in exactly that manner, both Sisters and the assembled audience, applauded and laughed, almost in unison. "Sister Mercy, I believe you have the slut learning to service you properly," Sister Charity coyly commented. "He is learning, he will learn to beg for this attention, to whimper softly in the night, wanting to be filled as I am filling him now," Sister Mercy calmly commented as she drove her cock home, hard, grinding her clit into the harness and coming again. I had my doubts about all of that, hoping only she had satisfied her need and would be granting me freedom shortly. The purpose of the ridges in her dildo, now apparent to my pain ridden and violated ass, serving to grab and pull the sensitive skin, with each out stroke and the force all deeper, with each in stroke, maximizing the contact with the sensitive skin, allowing no section of skin to remain untouched and insuring complete and total violation. Finally after she came more times than I can remember. Sister Mercy fell over my back, exhausted, leaving my upturned ass covered in her warm cum. Thankfully, there was no more torture that night. I was released from the bondage of the horse, my leg shackled to the cross as though they had to fear my running! My bruised and battered body would barely move, much less attempt escape. My clothing was returned and I was given a thin blanket that prevented me from freezing to death. Left to contemplate the evenings tortures and tortures to come, I wondered had I made the best decision this early morning in throwing down my swords. I finally fell to fitful sleep, demons of the evening visiting me even in my dreams, the voices of Sister Charity and Sister Mercy beckoning to me, my body curling into an even tighter ball, in fear more than cold. The following day brought a lean breakfast, thankfully and another long day's march, filling my mouth with the dust of those mounted and marching troops before me as my body struggled to move and my mind played back the previous evening's horrors; dread building within me for the what might be in store for me at the end of the first long day's march. I glanced to the last of the woodlands, my home of many years, taking time to burn the beauty of my homeland into my mind's eye that I might use as an escape during my torture sessions. That evening however, there was no humiliation or torture on the second evening, though I was shackled to my cross for the night. I was to learn, this was a part of their training, giving one the false sense of well being before painfully stripping it away again. To Be Continued......
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