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Chapter 1
The war had ended almost before it had begun. The Dahnain army led by
Brigadier General Tamsin had swiftly and silently outflanked the main
Birimian forces’ spearhead led by Prince Henry and surprised them from
the rear. In a well planned manoeuvre, Tamsin had made her troops appear
as if they were retreating in front of the Birimian advance, leaving a
few worthless males to die in an apparent weak and forlorn attempt to
stave off defeat while the main body of her elite female amazon troops
melted into the countryside on either side of the advance only to
reunite to the rear of the Birimian forces.
Prince Henry had been jubilant as his troops surrounded and lay siege to
the city of Dahna, capital of the small Arabian state of Dahnai, ruled
by Queen Aliyah who had refused to give him her 18 year old daughter,
Princess Tahlia, as his bride and thereby effectively condemn the small
state to falling under his rule, uniting it with Birim. ‘Well, now they
will yield to me by force’ he mused as he stood his troops down for the
night, planning to demand the surrender of Dahna at first light.
Meanwhile, unbeknown to Henry, to his rear, Brigadier General Tamsin’s
crack troops were closing in on him while a small splinter group of
about 50 women, dressed as refugees, crossed the border into Birim and
headed directly for the capital. No one paid them much mind, Birim’s men
were with Prince Henry at the battlefront and their women were waiting
indoors, oblivious to the silent progress of the small band of Dahnain
women.
At precisely 4.00am, Colonel Zenda rapped on the Birim palace doors. A
small window opened in the heavy oak, metal studded portal that had
survived centuries since the Crusades and an elderly guard with a
straggly grey beard looked out at her. “I am Queen Aliyah of Dahna’s
official emissary and I bring an urgent message for your king” Zenda
spoke in a commanding voice that took her adversary by surprise for a
moment.
“Then give me the message and I shall see that His Majesty receives it
when he rises” replied the guard.
“The message is of the utmost secrecy and I must deliver it personally
and then return forthwith to my Queen with a reply. You must let me in
immediately.” The authority in her voice was compelling and the old
guard almost opened the door straight away but was stopped by the hand
of his lieutenant who had appeared to check on what was happening.
Zenda could hear the two men mumbling quietly to one another behind the
door but was unable to make out the conversation. “If you know what is
good for you, you will escort me to your king immediately, this message
will stop the war and save many lives. As you can see, we are only a
small group charged with bearing this message, we are no threat.”
The lieutenant then looked out through the window and could see that the
small group of women were apparently alone. “Your leader may enter but
the rest must wait outside.”
“As you wish” replied Zenda but, as the window closed and the door began
to open, creaking slowly on its ancient iron hinges, she and her troops
drew their bayonets out from under their cloaks and charged the door
which yielded to their combined weight and threw the two hapless guards
off balance. Zenda’s foot came up into the lieutenant’s groin, causing
him to double over only for his chin to receive the butt of her rifle,
knocking his head back sharply. He was out like a light and, fortunately
for him, never felt the bayonet enter him below his testicles and rip up
through his abdomen nor the pounding of the 25 pairs of feet that
trampled over him as the women swiftly entered the palace.
The old guard’s demise was equally swift but far more painful for he
fell over backwards as the door was forced and so was still conscious as
his genitals were removed swiftly by some deft work with a bayonet by
one of Zenda’s gifted soldiers and then, silent with the shock was
kicked and trampled by the invading column and left to slowly bleed to
death.
Once inside, Zenda led her Amazon Commando Division to the king’s
quarters where they found King George and Queen Catherine sleeping
soundly, obviously convinced that their elder son, Henry, would by
morning have gained the unconditional surrender of their neighbouring
country. Zenda dispatched two small groups of her soldiers to collect
the younger son, Prince William and the twin Princesses, Jane and Mary,
and it was the princess’ loud protests at the indignity of being
snatched forcibly from their beds in the middle of the night that roused
the sleeping King and Queen.
“What outrage is this?” screamed the King, struggling to climb out of
bed only to receive a vicious slap across his face that knocked him back
onto the bed. Grabbing his testicles through his pyjama’s and flashing
her bayonet dangerously close to them Zenda stared down at the helpless
ruler.
“Shut up an listen, you arrogant bastard” hissed Zenda, “all of you
listen. You are now prisoners of war, captured by Queen Aliyah’s elite
troups and in the morning you will be taken to Dahna where you will
swear allegiance and cede sovereignty of Birim to Queen Aliyah herself.
Right now, you will sign this unconditional surrender or, each of your
children in turn will slowly die until such time as you do sign.”
King George struggled to speak but his words died on his lips as Zenda
tightened her grip on the ‘crown jewels’ “Your elder son, as we speak,
is facing death at the hands of our troops and we shall show you
coverage of that shortly over this satellite phone relay, just in case
you might be thinking that he will be your saviour. The younger son,
Prince William, naked with his hands bound behind his back, was now
dragged into the room by a chain fastened around his testicles. He
struggled to keep up with the beautiful Dahnaian amazon that had control
of him, in spite of the repeated encouragement he was receiving from the
boots of her friends, bringing up the rear.
On the outskirts of Dahna itself, Prince Henry was suffering a similar
humiliation. He too had been sleeping when Brigadier General Tamsin had
entered his quarters and woken him roughly, binding his arms behind his
back and attaching a padlock and chain to his genitals which was now
suspended from a low tree branch. The hapless Prince had to remain on
tiptoe to minimise the pain and sensation of having his genitals ripped
off by his own weight on the chain. This might not have been so bad had
he too not had to suffer the repeated kicks and slaps from his captors,
throwing him repeatedly off balance and causing him to scream for mercy.
It was beginning to get light as the satellite phone link was made and
the first pictures of Prince Henry’s situation began to arrive in the
Royal bedroom at Birim. Queen Catherine gasped and cried out in anguish
as she saw the suffering of her elder son only to be silenced by one of
Zenda’s troops tightening her grip on the queen’s hair and stuffing her
mouth with an apple she had found in a fruit bowl on a table by the
window. Her hands held tightly behind her back and unable to stop the
tears running down her cheeks, the queen sobbed silently as her husband,
the king tried once more to gain some measure of control of the
situation and ease the suffering and humiliation of his family.
“Very well,” he gasped, “we will cease hostilities and sign a truce. I
will order my troops home immediately, just let my son down.”
“Are you deaf or stupid?” demanded Zenda, yanking the poor king’s
genitals higher and pushing his chest down onto the bed with her left
foot, its sole sliding up to come to rest under his chin and across his
throat so that breathing was impossible. Zenda’s right arm continued in
its upward arc, taking his genitals with it so that, now he also was
suspended by his balls. “Just so you can feel what your elder son is
going through and what your youngest over their will suffer in the near
future and you will feel in your turn if you do not sign the
unconditional surrender. There is to be no truce, you will cede all
sovereignty to Queen Aliyah now or each of your family will die a most
painful and slow death. “In case you doubt our intentions, just watch
the video link;” scolded Zenda, pointing now at the videophone.
A lithe young amazon soldier held up the phone so the king could get a
better view. There was a crackle of static also as Brigadier Tamsin’s
voice came over the ether “Colonel Zenda, has the king signed the
surrender document yet?”
“No Ma’am, not yet” replied Zenda.
“Very well” they all heard Tamsin’s next command “take the chain up a
notch” and the Birimi Princesses gasped as they saw their brother’s feet
now leave the ground and his beaten and bruised body now swing freely
beneath the tree branch, his testicles, purple-blue in colour now,
stretching out from his body to the extent that they must surely tear
off. They could all hear his screams for mercy as he began to spin
around in mid air, still taking regular kicks and beatings from his captors.
King George’s mind was racing, he needed his sons alive if ever they
were to maintain his dynasty. Perhaps by surrendering now, they could
reunite in exile and one day return in force to recapture their kingdom.
At fifty, he was too old to fight to regain his lands but his son’s,
Henry and William, aged 28 and 26 respectively, were in their prime and
more than capable of retrieving the situation if only he could buy time
for his family to regroup. He needed to sign the document quickly before
poor Henry’s balls parted company from the rest of his body but, unable
to breathe let alone speak, he could only look desperately up into
Zenda’s eyes.
Zenda caught the change in the king’s eyes and removed her boot from his
throat but made no concession to his tortured testicles.
“Please, let him down, I will sign, just let him down, I beg you” he
shouted at the phone as loud as he could.
At Zenda’s nod, another of her warriors appeared at the king’s bedside
with a document and a pen. “Sign first!” she commanded and, to the sound
of the audible wailing of his heir, suspended by his balls from a tree,
King George signed.
Having witnessed the signing over the video link, Brigadier General
Tamsin ordered the Prince be returned to solid ground and, having shown
King George that his son remained intact, cut the link.
Dropping the King roughly back onto his bed, Zenda began giving orders.
The warrior with the signed surrender document was charged with
hastening immediately back to Dahna. King George was roughly seized and
stripped by four of Zenda’s henchwomen, arms bound behind his back and
his genitals padlocked much as his younger son’s were. Queen Catherine
and the Princesses were trussed up helplessly in turn and, finally, all
five captives were chained together by a heavy chain padlocked to
leather collars fitted to their necks.
As the sun rose over the Birim Palace, the country’s former ruler and
his family were led naked out of its front gates and made to climb like
cattle into a waiting open truck. Few people were about at that time of
day to witness the scene but enough for the word to begin to spread.
Already, the city people were waking to the sound of helicopters and
aircraft invading their airspace as Dahnaian forces moved in to take
control of strategic infrastructure and impose a curfew on the Birimi
people. The national TV station had already begun transmitting images of
the signing of the surrender and advising Birimi people to remain at
home until further notice.
Much as they would have liked to kneel down and remain out of sight in
the open truck as it drove slowly out of Birimi and across the border to
Dahna, Zenda’s warriors did not allow them such luxury but instead made
them stand so that their former subjects might witness their downfall
and ultimate humiliation.
They drove at a modest 50 km/hour, taking just over two and a half hours
cover the distance to the edge of Dahna city where, in front of a
celebrating population of Dahnaians, they were reunited with Prince
Henry, who was roughly added to the human chain, before being driven on
foot, like cattle, through the city to the palace gates. Zenda’s
warriors encouraged their progress with whips and electric cattle prods,
much to the delight of the ecstatic Dahnaians who showed their approval
of the victory by pelting them with rotten fruit and other garbage.
King Henry looked up miserably at the Palace balcony as they were driven
through the gates, desperate to get inside and out of sight of the
baying crowds. Yes, he had instigated the war and was now being made to
pay for the defeat with this degrading march through the streets.
Surely, Queen Aliyah, in spite of their differences, would allow them to
discretely leave the country and live in exile, once the formalities of
the hand over of sovereignty were over. He could not have been more
wrong. The degradation of his family was only now beginning.
Queen Aliyah and Princess Tahlia appeared together out on the balcony as
the Birimi royal family were lined up in the courtyard. An enormous
cheer went up as they appeared and the crown began chanting ‘long live
Queen Aliyah’ but went quiet as soon as the Queen raised her hand.
“Today is a proud day in the history of Dahna” she addressed them. “You
see before you the despot king of Birim and his family who tried
forcefully to take Princess Tahlia from us and to take away our
sovereign right to exist as a nation. That they failed is in large part
due to the superior tactical strategies of our forces led by Brigadier
General Tamsin and Colonel Zenda, both of whom I am proud to announce
will be awarded the Dahna Gold Star for their bravery and services to
the crown.”
Another rousing cheer erupted from the crowds.
“In honour of this momentous occasion” continued Aliyah as the cheer
died down, “today will become an annual national holiday and there will
be a victory parade through the streets commencing at 4.00pm.” To
renewed cheering, Queen Aliyah and Princess Tahlia descended from the
balcony and walked up to the Birimi royal family aligned in front of the
palace.
“Kneel!” commanded Brigadier General Tamsin as Colonel Zenda cracked a
whip across the backs of the aligned captives who quickly got down on
their knees, denying Zenda the excuse to lash them yet again.
A small lectern with a microphone and written instructions was placed in
front of King George who too slowly realised he was required to speak.
Zenda, skilled with many weapons and implements of torture, loved the
whip and was renowned for her accuracy. She delighted the watching
crowds now by placing a perfect lash across King George’s naked back,
stinging him into action. In a cracked and defeated voice, he read out
the full terms of his surrender to the massed crowds, apologised for his
tyranny to the Dahnaian people and pledged his and his family’s
allegiance to Queen Aliyah, renouncing his regal status. His final task,
according to the instructions before him, was to crawl forward on his
knees and kiss the feet of both Queen Aliyah and Princess Tahlia,
taking, of course, the remainder of his family with him who were ordered
to do the same.
At that, Queen Aliyah once more reminded the crowd of the victory parade
that would take place that afternoon before turning to return to the
Palace. “Take them inside and hose them clean” she commanded “and then
take them to the stables and prepare them for the parade.”
‘Your Majesty, if I might have a word” begged George, fearing their
degradation was not yet over and desperate to plea for compassion and
their release into exile.
Queen Aliyah stopped in her tracks and turned. She paused for a moment
before walking over to the line of captives, her elegant stilettos
clicking on the paved courtyard. The crowd, sensing more drama, went
silent and watched intently, as their Queen placed her delicate foot
against George’s chest, pushing it back so he was forced to look upward.
“You have no right to speak unless I command it. Never, ever speak out
of turn again!” Then, swiftly bringing her jewelled foot upward, she
kicked his mouth shut.
To the cheers of the crowd, Tamsin and Zenda drove the captives into the
Palace stables where they handed them over to the stable workers. “Hose
them down and then prepare them for the parade, the two old ones to pull
the Princess’s chariot, the girls to pull the Queen’s carriage and the
boys to be saddled. Be sure they are put in appropriate livery fitting
the occasion.”
“Certainly Ma’am” responded the stable workers, all Dahnaian males
working under the supervision of mature female overseers.
Both Tamsin and Zenda knew they would do a good job not just because the
workers knew only too well the nature of punishments meted out to
workers who were slack in even the slightest way. The workers now had
the opportunity to abuse humans even lower in status than themselves and
relished the opportunity of turning them into show ponies for the
afternoon’s parade.
“Very good” said Zenda as she and Tamsin turned to leave and return to
the Queen and Princess in the Palace itself.
‘Oh my god’ thought each of the Birimi’s in turn, ‘what further
indignities are we to suffer at the hands of these people? Carriages,
saddles, are we to be treated as animals?’ Each of them too frightened
to speak, harboured their own fears as they were separated and led off
to their own stall where they were chained in such a way as to be able
to drink from a trough just above waist height, kneel but not sit, stand
but walk in only a limited radius of about one metre. Each was fitted
with a ‘scald’s bridle’ an ingenious medieval device like a horse’s
bridle but one that prevented the wearer from talking without lacerating
their tongue. Alone now and immobile, unable to speak, each was left to
contemplate the folly that has led them to pursue Princess Tahlia as a
bride for Henry with the express intent of seizing the state of Dahna
for themselves. They had lost everything, were captives, had been
publicly humiliated and clearly were to be further humiliated before the
day was over. Each praying that the day would end quickly and
desperately clinging on to the belief that their situation could not
possibly get any worse.
Unfortunately for them, the horror was only just beginning.
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