Interrogation of an Amazon

Interrogation of an Amazon

CHAPTER THREE

Whipped.

Amphora heard footsteps on the stairs at the back of the platform. Britt appeared in front of her, his shadow providing a moment of respite from the relentless sun. He stood leering at her.

"Recognise me pretty one?" She thought she'd seen him that morning guarding the second level of the dungeons but everything had happened in such a blur she couldn't be sure. She'd seen a hundred faces pass before her eyes as they had dragged her to be paraded.

"I've never seen you before," she replied, locking eyes. "You're as ugly as hell so I'm sure I'd remember you".

"So beautiful. So feisty." He walked up to her and pinched her face between his fingers. The soldier was stocky in build, five foot eight inches tall. "I like breaking tall proud women. Look at me again bitch. Look hard". She glared down at him and shook her head free of his grip, her hair flaying and her breasts swaying provocatively.

"Get your hands off me, scum".

He angled his head up and went to kiss her. She turned away. His back was to the crowd so they had been unable to see the brief exchange. For so many to have witnessed his rejection would have been unthinkable. Only the two of them knew that she had won that skirmish. He pulled away.

Those at the front of the crowd sensed there was a battle of sorts underway on stage and started moving to the sides of the platform to get a better view of the action. The soldier saw them. He was determined not to loose face. Getting her to talk would win him great kudos; promotion even.

She turned back towards him, narrowing her eyes. "Don't you dare touch me, little man. I'm way out of your league".

"Try and stop me my spirited friend". He stepped forward again. "Watch me. I'll do as I please with you". Amphora balled and unballed her fists. She arched her back and raised her torso, driving her head back against the top of the log in yet another futile attempt to free herself. The Amazon's breathing deepened, her ribcage expanding and contracting, her breasts rising and falling. His face was only inches away from her prominent nipples. "Struggle bitch". How he enjoyed watching her squirm. The view of her body from so close surpassed even his wildest fantasy.

Britt tweaked and flicked her nipples as if to demonstrate his total control of her. He rubbed his hand across her stomach, his fingers tracing every ridge of her muscled abdomen through a layer of sweat. He let his thumb run through the dimples formed each side of the muscle band that ran down her body from the centre of her chest. He watched her breasts gently bobbling, their weight giving them a momentum she was powerless to control. From this close he could hear the softest squeaks coming from her leather boots as she fought the ropes. He could see that what appeared from a distance to be an unbroken sheen of sweat was in fact thousands of tiny droplets merged together. He watched while one, then another, then three together, tumbled into each other and cascaded down her body like mini waterfalls. Everything about this woman was tantalizing.

Without warning Britt grabbed her left nipple between his finger and thumb and squeezed hard. Harder. Harder still. He twisted the nipple backwards and forwards as if he was trying to detach it from her aureole. It slipped in his hand making him tighten his grip even further. He savoured its rough texture between his fingers. He saw her eyes squint betraying her discomfort. The man drove his thumbnail into the nipple and heard her sharp intake of breath. Knowing he'd found a weak spot, he pulled her nipple sharply towards him elongating her breast away from her body. With his other hand he unsheathed his dagger and placed the blade against her extended nipple. Despite the heat she could feel the steel's coldness. "Want me to cut it off? Serve it to the dogs?" He circled her aureole with the tip of the blade. "Where's Sempha?"

"You wouldn't dare. The king would kill you. And you know it." She was bluffing but reckoned he looked stupid enough to believe it. "He wants it for himself. Not that he's going to get it".

"Be sure, the king would consider the loss of a nipple a small price to pay for information leading to Sempha's hiding place". He released her nipple and ran the shiny blade down towards the base of her breast allowing the knife to press against her heaving flesh, indenting but not cutting. She fought to check her breathing in an effort to calm the thug. She knew she was exciting him and that one careless slip could result in her being cut. The blade rested in her cleavage, the sharp edge threatening her right breast. Britt met her eyes. "Do you know how much it hurts when a breast is cut?"

Silence.

" DO YOU?" He pressed the knife against her chest.

"No" she remained steady, her heart pounding.

"Shall we find out?"

"I'll tell you nothing," she said. Had mouth had never felt so dry.

"There's other places we could have some fun". He grinned.

The soldier noticed the muscles in her arms flexing as she engaged her bonds for the hundredth time. Her arms and legs were held as securely now as they had been for the past two hours. She was powerless to prevent him doing what he wished with her; to graze her, to knick her, to cut her, to stab her. Her hard bronzed body was spread open before him; an open target. So very strong yet so utterly vulnerable. No one had ever held a knife to her flesh before now. And she didn't like it.

Slowly he drew the knife down her cleavage and bought it to rest under her right breast. He angled the blade upwards, the dagger's tip brushing against her torso, and let the knife take the weight of her breast. The soldier raised the dagger, her flesh falling each side of the steel. She drew in her breath hoping to raise her breast – take its weight off the knife. He bounced her luscious tit on the edge of the blade. She'd never felt so helpless. A millimeter higher and the steel would have pierced her skin. He moved from her breast and guided the dagger onto her abdomen. The man pressed harder, the blade making a groove as it passed through the sweat and over her skin like the keel of a boat through still water. She drew in her stomach – and the knife followed the concave pattern. She took shallow breaths in an effort to keep the pressure of the dagger off her midriff. With her stomach held in tight her ribcage became enlarged, the V shape of her torso was accentuated, her breasts thrust forwards and upwards. The spectators at the sides of the platform gaped in awe at the Amazon's astonishing profile.

Britt stopped at her belly button and put the tip of the blade inside. He played with her, moving the knife from side to side. His hand appeared to jerk. Amphora winced. "Oh," he said. "Looks like we've had a little accident. Nothing to mark your beauty of course. No one will see a little scar in there". A drop of blood appeared, just sufficient to spill out from her belly button. The soldier removed the knife and collected the blood on his fingertip. He raised his hand to her face and tried to smear it across her mouth but she turned away. He reached for her lips a second time but she shook her head violently. "Not thirsty?" he said and wiped his finger clean in the sweat between her breasts. "Now then. Where were we?"

He placed his dagger against her just above her belly button. The man worked the knife around her navel enjoying the gentle curve of flesh that surrounds the belly button of even the flattest of stomachs. He noticed a line of the finest fairest hair he'd ever seen – almost invisible - and followed it south.

He ran the tip of the blade underneath the rim of her tiny black panties and worked the steel from side to side. She swallowed involuntarily. A strand of her hair fell across her face and she flicked her head to clear it. "Frightened are we my precious?" Fear was smelt.

Britt used the flat of the blade to pull her panties forward. He looked down her front, lingered, and moved the blade into the centre of her dark soft hair. He raised his head to meet her eyes. "Shall I shave you in front of all these people, Amphora?" he asked, smiling. The thought of it almost made her wretch but she managed to remain impassive.

He withdrew the blade, her panties snapping back into position. "Very pretty". He turned slightly to one side and yelled out to the audience as if delivering an aside. "STRAIGHT LINE". Immediately he faced the tied Amazon once again, anxious to enjoy every second of her intense humiliation at the hands of the laughing jeering audience. He had evened the score. Britt put away his knife.

"Enough messing around," he said, putting his arms on his hips. "You killed my brother and I'm going to make you pay".

"Was he the one who cried like a stuck pig?" she snarled.

He slapped her across the face and drove his fist into her stomach. The crowd cheered, those at the side of the stage getting an especially good view of Amphora's tensed stomach muscles repelling the blow. He stood smoldering in front of her. "I've been given the honour of whipping you and you've just given me double the reason to enjoy it. Before I've finished you'll be begging me to stop. And you'll tell me what I want to know".

He shouted down to a group of soldiers. "She's ready. You know where to take her. Treat her rough if you need to but don't mark her - just yet".

Four men ran up the stairs and Britt stepped aside. One of the soldiers approached her, a long rope dangling from his hand, intending to make a leash around her throat. As he drew the rope around the back of her neck she snapped her head to one side and tried to bite him. "Oooh. You're vicious," he said. "Different from anyone we've dealt with before".

"I'm going teach this woman a lesson," said Britt. "Give me the rope".

She struggled furiously as he came forward, the men in awe of her muscled body writhing against her bonds. Her skin was shiny with sweat, the sheen adding to her sex appeal. Britt held out a length of rope in front of him, taut between his hands. She watched helplessly as he placed the rope underneath her right breast and bought it up the side and over the top winding it tight around the base, her tit quivering. He bought the rope across the centre of her chest and to the top of her left breast before circling the cord around its base. He wound the rope around her heaving breasts twice more, each time completing a figure of eight across her cleavage, finishing with sufficient length to form a leash. He checked that the rope was as tight as it could be. Her breasts were caught, surrounded, standing even prouder from her torso; two balls of flesh almost separated from her body. The coarse hemp puckered her skin and already the blood flow was becoming constricted, her flesh reddening. He slapped her swelling tits. And again – harder. Left right left right, each time her breasts coming to rest dead centre, their firmness amplified by the bonds that encased them. Her nipples started to flatten as her blood sought a place to escape. She cursed that she had always had extra sensitive breasts.

"You bastard," she hissed.

The more her breasts swelled, the greater their sensitivity. He flicked her nipples, still slightly rigid, her discomfort increasingly acute. He watched her expression for signs of pain. She understood his game and determined not to give him the pleasure of knowing he was hurting her. Through gritted teeth her face remained still, her feline eyes telling him nothing.

Britt was getting frustrated at the lack of an obvious result from abusing her breasts. The crowd sensed she was more resilient than he'd anticipated. "You think you're so strong Amazon? I WILL make you suffer". Britt smiled at her. "Time for a little journey". He tugged with the leash at her swollen breasts pulling her shoulders away from the log. With her arms held tight by the ropes, her tits had to take the strain. It felt as if her stupendous chest was being ripped from her body.

"Hey my beauty. Don't you want to come with me?" Her tormentor gave an extra fierce pull on the leash, Amphora's back arching forward.

"Uunngghh". The emotion slipped from her mouth.

"That's more like it," he said grinning. "It's hurting isn't it. Time for you to be whipped".

He signaled to the soldiers and two men went to stand at each end of the log. Her heart raced, her chest rising and falling. Soreness filled her breasts. They felt ready to burst.

"Untie her legs", Britt ordered. "And then…………" he motioned at the log.

With her legs free, the men started to cut away the front of the Y-shaped constructions holding the beam in place.

"Get ready to take the weight, bitch. If you fall I'll drag you up by your chest so you'd better stay upright if you don't want your breasts torn from your body. That'd make a real mess and we wouldn't want to spoil your perfect looks".

She gave him a withering stare.

"Let her have it".

The men made the final cut and the log fell forward from its retainers. Amphora took its full weight. The oak wanted to slip down her back but her wrists tied to the wood prevented it from sliding. Her arms and shoulders were forced backwards painfully, her biceps, triceps, and traps straining as she engaged the wood's weight. She steadied herself. The warrior hunched her back down and pulled the log to the back of her neck so as to spread the weight across the top of her body. Britt saw what she was doing.

"No you don't. I want this to count". He pulled sharply up on the leash making her stand upright to take the strain off her chest. Again the weight of the beam made her arch backwards but she had the measure of it and tensed her muscles in time to prevent the wood from slipping. "He's not as stupid as he looks", she thought. Now she knew he'd tied her in such a way that if she wanted to keep the worst of the pain from her breasts she would have to walk with her back straight. She realized his intention - to give the expectant audience a clearer view of her body. "One round to him," she acknowledged to herself. "But he won't win the contest".

Britt walked down the steps, Amphora following. She concentrated on keeping her footing down the stairs. The muscles in her legs demonstrated their power with every step she took - flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing, in the flex giving the appearance of trying to escape her skin but held back by her flesh. The rough bark scratched against her naked back.

They walked towards the whipping post, the crowd parting to create a path. Those further away pressed forward to get a closer look at the Amazon struggling with her burden. The mob got closer and closer, the path narrower and narrower. She gritted her teeth, clenching and unclenching her fists as she worked to maintain her strength. Bound and unable to swing, her breasts pointed directly ahead wobbling just a little. Although she kept up with Britt to keep the leash slack, she could see and feel her breasts continuing to swell. The humiliation of being led like an animal was beyond words. She hated the eyes of the people boring into her as they gorged on her delicious body.

Occasionally Britt recognized a voice in the crowd and he stopped so his friends could take a longer look at his trophy. She took these opportunities to gather her breath, doing her best to ignore the men and women who looked on enjoying her suffering. When the leers became too intense she shouted out "What are you looking at, Thoranian scum? Wish your women had bodies like mine?" The women shrieked in reply. "Whip the bitch. Make her scream".

When he was ready to move on Britt tugged at her as if she was his pet and their journey would continue. Arms reached out from the throng but he wouldn't let anyone touch her. "Hands off. This one's mine". Guards walked behind the man and his captive to keep the crowd at bay. They saw the Amazon's glutes and thighs harden and soften, harden and soften, harden and soften as she walked. Sweat ran off her back.

Amphora saw that there were now two thick posts on the approaching stage, builders putting the finishing touches to chains and pulleys on top of each pole. Spectators were gathering around the platform debating which way she would be tied. Some wanted to see her face – to witness her expression as each stroke landed. Others wanted a view of her back, preferring to watch the leather make contact with her bronzed skin. Many chose the sides, anxious to see how much she swayed with the force of each blow. Everyone had attended whippings before but this was something completely different. They never thought they'd have the chance to see an Amazon warrior punished before their very eyes.

By the time they reached the platform Amphora was beginning to tire in the heat. Her breasts were starting to numb and had turned a shade of red she'd never seen: deep and unnatural. The veins and blood vessels criss-crossing her tits were increasingly pronounced. They arrived at the stage and the Amazon was pulled up onto the wooden platform using steps at the side of the platform. Climbing the stairs was pure agony. Britt tugged at the leash knowing that, because of the steps, Amphora could not take the strain off her breasts by arching backwards. If she'd fallen he would have won this skirmish and she wasn't about to let that happen. He took his beautiful victim to the front of the stage and made her turn to look out at the place where she had been paraded for the last two hours. The crowd was huge, faces on all sides as far as she could see. It seemed that news of her whipping had traveled far.

"Tie her," Britt ordered.

She was pulled back to stand in between the two posts that were set four feet apart. They reattached the chain that had tied her booted ankles when she was brought from the dungeon. One man stood at each end of the log and a third cut through the ropes that secured her arms to the beam. The weight fell from her shoulders. But before she had a chance to shake the blood back into her arms soldiers grabbed her wrists and attached metal cuffs that hung off the end of long chains falling from the tops of the posts.

"Raise her," said Britt and the men pulled at the two chains, the pulleys grinding as the links passed through their mechanisms. Amphora could only watch helplessly as her arms were hauled upwards until her body formed a Y shape.

"Further," she heard. The cuffs tightened around her wrists as her arms were raised higher, chafing against her skin. When they had finished she was standing on tiptoes, just able to take the worst of the weight off her shoulders. The assembled mass was humming with pleasure, the anticipation of what was to follow heightening their mood.

Britt approached her, his knife drawn once more. He placed the blade in her cleavage, under the ropes that bound her chest. She looked while he cut away the bonds. The rope fell to the floor by her feet and he kicked it away. The feeling of relief was overwhelming. Immediately she felt her blood start to flow again although she sensed it would be some while before the soreness eased.

Britt took a white silk ribbon from his pocket and came to stand behind her. He gathered her hair, pulled it back off her face, and used the ribbon to create a ponytail. The severe arrangement highlighted her facial features; the slant of her eyes and the prominence of her cheekbones given new emphasis. Her face was unlined. She had the skin of a woman at the peak of her condition. Britt yanked on her hair pulling her head sharply backwards. He whispered something before thrusting his tongue into her ear. She shook her head making him release her hair. Those at the front of the stage marveled as her breasts swayed with their newfound freedom.

As he walked around to the front something caught his eye. He took a step back and saw her tattoo.

"What a pretty decoration," he said stroking her round shoulder, dimpled with her arms held high. He ran his hand up her arm, enjoying the flow of muscle from her large shoulder as it molded into her taut triceps and flattened bicep. "Such fine muscles", he whispered, his face close to her head. "A shame they're so useless to you now". She fought her bonds, the chains too tight to rattle.

Britt stood before her. "The whips," he said, maintaining eye contact with the chained Amazon. A man came from behind her, three whips in his hand. Britt took them and came to stand close to her. "Now then Amphora," he said. "Which one shall I use?"

She looked away.

He took one of the whips and placed its thick wooden handle against her cheek turning her face back towards the weapons. She could smell the leather that braided the handle. "Let me explain," he continued. "The whips you see here are all used for the punishment of common criminals. They will hurt you and mark your flesh but the welts will soon pass particularly on someone as…….as……….as healthy as you. The dungeon master uses different whips – much much nastier - but that's for later". She swallowed.

Britt studied the three whips, each of varying designs, letting his hands pass over the straps. One had a single long thin round strand of leather, one a short braided switch, and the other five flat leather straps. He ran his fingers along the length of each weapon. "I think I'll use this one," he said, almost nonchalantly. He passed the two discarded whips to one of the men and motioned for everyone to leave the stage. He had chosen the bullwhip.

"Good choice," said someone in the crowd.

"Why", asked another standing close by.

"That whip's interwoven with tiny shards of metal", came the reply. "It will cut her but the wounds will only be superficial".

"What's so clever about that?"

"The dungeon master likes to receive his victims unmarked. Britt won't risk the ogre's wrath by scarring the woman. He's chosen a whip that will massively hurt her but not mark her permanently".

He held out the bullwhip in front of her letting the leather dangle, the implied threat speaking for itself. He flicked his wrist and the whip cracked the air. The very sound of it bought silence to the crowd. Amphora looked up at her right wrist, then her left. There was no escape.

"Where's Sempha?" he asked.

Nothing.

He cracked the whip again.

"I said – where's Sempha?"

The Amazon looked away again, her breathing heavier, her chest rising and falling, her stomach sucked in. Amphora's shoulders took most of her weight and she felt them beginning to ache. The muscles in her thighs flexed and hardened as she balanced on her tiptoes.

Britt was in a conundrum. He was honoured at having been given the opportunity to whip this most important prisoner. And he was looking forward to exacting revenge on her for the loss of his brother. One half of him wanted her to hold out against him; the longer the whipping the greater the pleasure for him. But he suspected that she'd be unlikely to reveal much information to him. A woman as fit as her would be able to endure a lot of pain. His other half knew that greater reward lay in making her talk even if it meant foregoing the whipping. He decided on a new tactic.

The soldier coiled the whip in his hand and approached the tied Amazon. He held the weapon in front of her letting her see its power close-up. He let the strap fall free and placed the long black strand between her heaving breasts. He pulled the whip across her chest allowing the leather to caress her nipples, their sensitivity still acute. She watched helplessly while he moved the cord backwards and forwards across her reddened breasts. They both noticed that her brown nipples had become prominent and hard once again.

He placed one hand half way up the strap as if to make a miniature whip and swung the free end in a circle in front of her spread body. The sun was beating down on her back. She sweated from every pore. Suddenly he changed the angle of his hand and the whip landed across her belly; a gentle slap of leather meeting stretched skin. She flinched. He played with her, the end of the whip smacking against her abdomen, her upper thighs, her waist, and her breasts. Those nearest to the stage heard a quiet sound of leather on flesh. Although this was symbolic rather than effective, he saw her nostrils flare as the whip teased her abused chest.

"Let me tell you some facts Amphora," he said. "Listen hard". He continued to torment her as he spoke. "After I have finished with you the king has ordered that you be handed over to the dungeon master for questioning. Make no mistake - that man is barbaric. Unfortunately for you, you are just his type – his dream woman. He will do things to your body the like of which you cannot conceive. Trust me. I've seen the result of his work. People, if you can call them people after he's done his worst, left unrecognizable. He will break you, literally and metaphorically". She gulped involuntarily.

"It's simple. You have a choice. Tell me where we can find Sempha and you'll be taken down and spared this whipping today and, more importantly for you, the appalling consequences of being left in the company of that madman day and night until you talk. What's it to be?"

"You don't scare me with your words", she replied. Her tongue was so dry she could hardly speak.

"As you wish Amazon. Pride comes before a fall. Didn't anyone teach you that?" The whip glanced off her muscled stomach, the stroke more painful this time.

She clenched and unclenched her fists pulling against the chains that bound her, the view of her muscles contorting as she struggled exciting all those who watched. Her breasts had almost returned to their natural colour. She represented the perfect woman to all who saw her.

He walked behind the warrior and grabbed her hair, pulling it around in front of her so that the ponytail hung down between her breasts. She looked up to the sky as if seeking help. None was forthcoming. She was at his mercy.

He studied her muscled back, not for the first time admiring her V-shaped torso and long shapely legs. Her buttocks and thighs tensed as she hung, rock hard and inviting. He stroked her tattoo again. Her back was open before him like a blank canvas of flawless skin on which he could draw any pattern he desired.

Britt motioned to the men in charge of the chains. They pulled down on the links and she was raised off her feet, the chain that held her ankles brushing against the wooden floor. She looked down at her body then up again at the sky, seeing vultures circling. Lines of sweat ran down her arms and onto her torso, down her back and the sides of her powerful thighs.

She hung like a bird suspended in midair. By any measure an awesome sight. The first Amazon in Thoranian captivity was about to be publicly whipped, naked but for her tiny panties and leather thigh boots.

Amphora tensed her muscles, her heart racing.

Britt raised his arm.

For the briefest moment she heard a whistling sound and then a sharp crack. The whip landed full square across her back. The pain took her breath away. Her eyes widened in surprise. It was like nothing she had ever felt. Sensations of intense heat and cutting followed by stinging and spreading a second later. The force of the lash was great enough to drive her body forward.

She swung back just as the next blow landed, the leather scoring another line underneath the first. She fought to get her breath. A third, harder than the other two, crashing into her tattooed shoulder and upper back. Her body jerked in the chains. The whistling sound again and a fourth strike, this time the bullwhip reaching around her body, the tip smacking across her unprotected belly. Five, six, seven, all aimed at her lower back, the whip so long that it circled around her waist like some hideous belt. The eighth was the worst, full of anger as the leather came around her front and landed directly on her nipple. She cried out in pain. The crowd cheered. "He's hurting her now," one guard said to another.

The ninth was the same – the tenth too. Britt had found his mark and again and again the burning of the whip begun at the middle of her back and climaxed on her unprotected breasts. She threw her head backwards and forwards, pulling her legs up as if for protection only for the wind to be knocked out of her as further strikes tormented her muscled torso. The brute varied his strokes to cover the whole of her back.

Through the haze of pain she heard "Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two," the noise from the audience getting louder the more anguished her cries became. "Twenty-five". Then it stopped.

Pain. Everywhere sharp fierce pain.

Britt came to face her, his breathing heavy, the veins and sinews in his forearm standing proud. He had already seen her back, vicious red welts criss-crossing her skin with blood oozing from a series of tiny cuts. The extent of the marks across her upper thighs, belly, and breasts surprised him. He saw that some strokes had landed directly on her nipples.

"Now then my beauty", he said between breaths. "Do you want me to continue or would you prefer to tell me where we can find your precious Sempha?"

She hadn't realized that she'd been gritting her teeth, her jaw aching from the exertion. It felt as if scalding water had been applied to her back, the pain not limited to the contact points. Her belly and thighs were stinging too, but it was her breasts that caused her the greatest agony. They too had suffered tiny, almost imperceptible, cuts. It felt as if sharp knives had been drawn across her chest. The sweat continued to pour from her racked body – her hair now matted as it hung down her front. Her thirst was more acute than ever.

"You call that a whipping?" She forced out the words, desperate to humiliate the brute. "I thought you were tickling me".

He squinted, barely containing his rage. He knew she wouldn't talk. If she had taken twenty-five of the hardest lashes he could deliver, fifty would probably make her faint but she would be unlikely to relent. The best he could do was prove to the spectators that he had hurt her. That way, he would at least be seen to have won the contest.

Britt took a small bottle from his jerkin and removed the stopper. He walked behind her and applied some of the liquid to a cloth. "Remember me bitch" she heard him say just before he dabbed the moist rag against her wounds.

She screamed, the sound piercing. He continued the work and she screamed again, wrenching against the chains, her body thrashing from side to side in a futile attempt to shake off the agony.

He came to face her, her writhing so fierce that drops of sweat were being thrown off her body into his face. "And now those luscious breasts of yours".

"AAAARRRGGHHH". More of the lemon, vinegar, and salt mixture. "NOOOOO. NOOOO". Yet more. "EEEEAAARRRRGGGHHH".

He walked off the platform leaving the Amazon warrior hanging like a captured animal. No one in the crowd moved. They watched as she dealt with the horror of what she had endured. Her face was contorted with pain, her chest rising and falling as she somehow sought to dissipate the hurt. Those at her back saw a mass of red and crimson: cuts, welts, and raging sores. Even her firm buttocks showed evidence of the ordeal she had undergone. And those at the front saw her hard flesh alive with the after shocks of the leather.

At the bottom of the steps Britt spoke with a group of six men, aiming his request at one who stood out as the leader. They nodded their heads and smiled. "Sounds too good to be true," said Flamt when Britt was out of earshot. The other five laughed. An army Major standing nearby heard the instructions that Britt had issued. He walked up to the group and addressed them, looking at Flamt while he spoke. "Make no deviations from Britt's instructions. We don't want to take any risks with this prisoner. She's strong and resourceful and I don't trust her an inch". "Certainly Major," replied Flamt. "We shall carry out Britt's instructions to the letter". The others nodded in agreement, their faces serious. The Major left and Flamt turned back to the group. He looked at Grax, his cousin, and winked. They all grinned.

For an hour the sun cooked the Amazon's back under its coating of vinegar. She imagined that her arms were separating from her shoulders, that her skin was about to peel off her body, that her breasts would never recover from their torture. Amphora thought there could be nothing worse than this.

Eventually Flamt and his group took her down. They removed the ribbon that held her hair and went to tie her hands. She made it difficult for them, resisting as they bound her. But having hung for so long, and with her ankles still shackled making running impossible, and with there being six against one, they succeeded in their efforts to tie her. With her hands secured behind her back, and a man gripping each arm, they led away the proud irresistible beauty.

***

While Amphora was being taken from the platform, three meetings were being held simultaneously in different places.

Tevo was sitting with Admiral Costall planning the route to Lumana. "We'll take the Lynx," the Admiral was saying. "It's fast and maneuverable and can carry up to forty men with their equipment. The ship's designed to be rowed if we encounter light winds". Tevo was always slightly rankled by Costall's accent. For a Thoranian, the Admiral was very refined. He did not participate in the sport of interrogating prisoners. But if Nemo found the gold the navy man knew that he would be given a share of the spoils. His appetite had been whetted for this adventure.

"Seems a good choice," said Tevo. "How long do you think it'll take us to reach Lumana?"

"With fair weather, probably two days and two nights," replied Costall.

"Fine," said Tevo. "Assemble your crew. I want volunteers only, just like the thirty men that I shall be bringing. Can we sail at first light tomorrow?"

"Yes," said the Costall. "Dawn it is". The Admiral stood up to leave. "I have a question for you Tevo. How do you know where to look for Sempha?"

"We don't know precisely where she'll be. But there's a hilly region in Lumana, close to where we'll land, that's mostly covered with forest. It's riddled with caves so we guess she'll hide somewhere around there. We already have scouts positioned throughout that area; we can only hope to get lucky".

Costall reached the door.

"One more thing Admiral," said Tevo. "The king's eldest son, Prince Haalet, has volunteered for this mission. Do you think I should take him? He's never been on anything as dangerous as this and I'd hate to be held responsible if something happened to him".

"Yes," said Costall. "You should take him. The experience would be good for him. The king doesn't need to know. Nor does anyone else. Let it be our secret".

"Thanks for your advice," said the Captain. "I'll allow him to come on the proviso he tells no one where he's going. We'll board Haalet before the other soldiers. Perhaps he can stay in your cabin during the crossing so none will see him until we arrive at Lumana".

"Of course," said the Admiral, and left the room. He had much to do before sunrise.

***

In a tent deep inside Lumana, Sempha was with her team of closest advisors drawing up two sets of plans: the defence of her kingdom and the rescue of Amphora. Glaina was part of the team, both these causes dear to her heart.

"Nemo will come for you Sempha sending a force overland," Tolana, head of the army, was saying. "I guess the timing depends on how long Amphora can hold out". Tolana turned to Glaina. "Sorry to seem so cold and matter-of-fact about your sister's fate, Glaina, but I must speak plainly if we are to construct the best possible plans".

"I understand," Glaina replied. "Amphora would want the same".

"They won't mount a full scale invasion, " Tolana continued. "It'll be smaller - more focused. Something formulated after Amphora's been broken; when they think they know roughly where to look. Sempha, you and Glaina must leave tonight and take refuge in a place of your choosing. Don't tell anyone where you're going. It's best that way. After fourteen days meet me at the place marked with a cross on this map". She handed Sempha a scroll.

"When will you be leaving for Thorania?" asked Glaina. "I wish I could come with you".

"I know you do," replied Cercia, the leader of the rescue team. "But your place is by Sempha's side, now more than ever".

***

In an antechamber off the throne room, Nemo was sitting opposite a man whose name he did not know - no one knew it - and of whom he was afraid although the man was one of his subjects.

"When will she be delivered to me?" the man asked.

"Very soon," replied the king.

"Give me one more day. A few pieces of equipment require some last minute adjustments. I have seen the woman's strength and I want to be sure everything is working perfectly. What are my precise instructions?"

"Simple," the king fiddled with his dagger. "She knows where Sempha will hide. That's what I need to know".

Silence.

"And then?" the man enquired.

"Then we'll go after the Princess," Nemo answered, deciding there was no need for the dungeon master to know of the expedition due to leave the next day. "And once she's been captured, she'll also be bought to you so that you can extract from her the location of the treasure".

"Are there any boundaries with the Amazon that's here?"

"Boundaries?" the king's brow furrowed.

"Had you plans to use Amphora for anything after I've got the information you require?"

"No. What's left of her will be thrown to the troops as their reward for bringing me Sempha. The Princess will be my personal slave. Whatever it is you have planned for Amphora, do it. I don't care. Just get me that information".

The dungeon master left.

Nemo sipped his wine, his hand shaking. What was it about that man that created such fear in all those he encountered?

***

While the king was finishing his drink, the man closed and locked the door to his own private paradise deep in the bowels of the castle. Thankfully he had few visitors. He disliked people. "Where to start?" he looked around the room, a number of tasks needing attention. "I think I'll start with the basics". He walked over to a cabinet and opened one of the draws. He took out a brown leather pouch, rolled up and held closed by a cord. He undid the knot and the leather fell open. The torches that lit his dungeon were reflected back at him from a number of differently shaped scalpels, pliers, and blades revealed within the pouch.

He sat at a table, some polish in one hand, a rag in the other. He liked things to be spotlessly clean. "This one", he said to himself, selecting a hook shaped piece. "Where on that hard body of hers shall I apply this first?" He rubbed, holding the blade up to the light to check for stains he might have missed. "My dream come true. A real live Amazon strapped into the device, mine to torture at will". He whistled while he polished, his crooked teeth and thin cruel lips making a surprisingly tuneful combination. His head filled with visions of the muscled beauty struggling while he worked on her.

To be continued…….

* * *