LEANORE 07 By Heck Comments to heck@beadyeye.net CHAPTER SEVEN THE GANGPLANK SWAYED as the captives were herded onto the ships in shuffling lines, shackled together at the ankles. A dejected stream of humanity, the men and women of low worth were packed into the holds of the first two vessels, without sufficient headroom to stand. They were forced to lie belly to back, spoon fashion, in a dark and dank atmosphere, already rank with the stench of sweat. On the quayside, Leanore stood with her fellows with shoulders back and head held high. She was sickened by the treatment of those unfortunate enough to be classed less valuable, and a little frightened by the prospect of the unknown, but she would be damned if she would let her feelings show. Even among the 'elite', all of whom had been selected for their strength and beauty, she stood out like a tall, elegant beacon, proud, fierce, and every inch the daughter of a headwoman. Despite her trials, which had left her somewhat weakened through lack of activity, she remained a splendid example of feminine muscular perfection. To her eyes, the ships were enormous. Over fifty feet long, each had a single, central mast so tall that Leanore had to crane her head backward to see their tops, with a single square sail furled tightly around a jib that spread its arms wide enough, it seemed, to embrace the sky. Along their flanks three tiers of slots, each row ready to accommodate a bank of oars when the ship was under way, gave the craft their name - trireme. When at sea, with seventy-two oarsmen deployed, the vessels shouldered their way through the waves with unstoppable speed and power. On the decks of the first two triremes, fore and aft of the great masts, a pair of weld mesh cages had been erected. The 'elite' were placed in the aft cage on the first ship, where there was room to move around and hay bales on which to make comfortable beds and seating. They were protected from the weather by thick tarpaulins stretched over the top of the cage, which could be let down at the sides if the elements became really vengeful. For the first time, they were unshackled and able to move without restriction, although guards were posted outside to prevent trouble. Most were just grateful to get the shackles off, and sat around rubbing the raw bands around wrists and ankles. Lexis was in the same cage as Leanore, but of late she had ceased to hurl bile and spite at her rival, contenting herself with sullen stares through smouldering eyes and bared teeth. Leanore could still sense the tension between them, though, and knew it was but a matter of time until things erupted. With a chorus of shouted orders and acknowledgements, the great ships cast off and forged their way downriver. Once out into the channel the three banks of oars were unshipped and, to the pounding rhythm of a great kettledrum, the triremes got under way like a trio of monstrous pondskaters. There was little for the captives to see, in the cages. By standing erect, they could see the distant shore, but after about four days, once the ships had navigated the broad delta and headed out into the open sea, there was nothing to view but the endless ocean. Many succumbed to motion sickness, and lay on the bales - the trouble with seasickness is, half the time you're afraid you're going to die, and the rest of the time you wish you had. Those affected lay groaning on the bales, while the others kept out of their way, anxious to keep their feet out of the expanding pools of stinking vomit. Lexis kept well away, to Leanore's relief. She was mindful of the armed guards surrounding the cage at all times, and did not want to get into a fight at this time. It hardly served her purpose to exact vengeance against Leanore only to get filled with crossbow bolts so, for the moment, she was content to wait her time. Her people had a saying - revenge served cold is a sweeter dish. About twice a day, Fallus Maximus came to the cage just to stand. He never said a word, but just stood, gazing at Leanore, watching the play of muscle in her splendid body, his lust plain in his stare. Leanore studiously ignored him, but from time to time she noticed the general standing on the bridge, watching the centurion as he, Maximus, watched the powerful woman. A small smile played about the senior officer's lips, approving of his junior's choice. Every few days, when the stench of vomit and human waste had become too great for even the crew to bear, a big manual pump would be hauled out onto the deck. Manned by two operators, the heavy handles would be worked up and down, sucking up seawater and spraying it over the cages and their occupants with savage force. The effluent would be washed overboard, while the captives were blasted with water that, although comparatively warm, felt icy cold to their sun-baked skins. They screamed as they huddled to one side, scrabbling to hide behind one another to escape the freezing jets. Leanore, and one or two of the more robust captives, refused to be intimidated by the powerful blast, and stood with legs braced, taking the full force of the salty water on their exposed backs. Some regretted this, as they were physically knocked to the ground by the force, but Leanore bore it stoically, glaring her defiance at the guards. She actually found it refreshing. While it seemed cruel and unusual punishment, it perversely did the slaves a favour, as it rid them of lice and other parasites at a stroke and, although leaving a salty residue on their skins, kept them fairly clean. The third time this happened, Leanore took up her position, braced to accept the blast, when she noticed Lexis nearby, also preparing to face the jet. The water hit them like a wall of power, and Leanore had to lean back against it to keep her balance. Something hit her in the small of her back, staggering her forward. She stumbled, arms outstretched to maintain balance, and gasped as a sinewy arm snaked about her neck, tightening before she was able to tense her neck muscles. She felt a hard, round bicep swell against her windpipe, and her air supply was abruptly cut off. She felt the weight of her assailant hanging from her throat, the better to strangle her. Her hands went to the arm and she thrust backwards with her hips, levering the attacker up and over her back. Lexis sailed over Leanore's head to land awkwardly on the deck before her. Her normally well-controlled temper deserted her, and Leanore launched herself after the other woman. Lexis shot out a foot, hoping to take Leanore's legs from under her, but managed only a glancing blow that slowed the bigger woman not at all. Leanore twisted around and deliberately fell toward Lexis, noting a fleeting look of real fear on the other woman's face. With all the power of Leanore's body behind it, her crooked elbow smashed into Lexis's chest, driving the wind from the unfortunate woman's lungs. Leanore felt a couple of ribs give under the blow, and Lexis groaned in pain. Beneath her anger, Leanore's mind was working coolly and logically, and she remembered that Lexis was a trained fighter while she herself was not. She felt fortunate, therefore, to have got her telling blows in quickly, and knew she had to press her advantage before the other recovered sufficiently. Outside the cage, the soldiers trained the hose on the two fighting women in the hope of separating them. However, both were too intent on their battle and, in any case, too powerful to pay it much heed. Leanore jammed her leg under Lexis's neck, bringing her other leg over to clamp tight across the exposed throat. Lexis's warrior instincts kicked in, though, and she twisted to one side. Leanore's thighs closed on her shoulder and her tremendous thews tightened around the top of the other's arm. Lexis struggled to escape, but Leanore was far too strong. The great arching muscles of her thighs held her fast as Leanore reached to grasp her flailing arm. Her iron fingers closed about the tendinous wrist, below the damaged hand, and Lexis cried out in agony as, with a violent heave, Leanore separated the warrior's shoulder joint. Desperately, Lexis pounded her free fist into Leanore's thigh. Her fist bounced on the rubbery hard muscle without effect. She thrashed with her legs trying to kick the stronger woman in the face, but could not get sufficient leverage against the vice-like grip of the muscular thighs. She tried not to admit to herself that she was beaten, outmuscled again by the woman who had frustrated her before, but it was inescapable. Leanore's sheer strength had overpowered her completely, and she could not escape the feeling that she was about to die. Leanore released the grip of her mighty thighs and stood up. She kept hold of Lexis's dislocated arm, and her other hand caught one flailing ankle. Lexis threw herself about, trying to get free, but Leanore's grip was implacable. The hosing water pummelled against her teak-hard belly as she began to turn, dragging Lexis in an arc across the floor. The other captives stood in an open-mouthed knot in the corner, watching the arrogant Lexis being thoroughly beaten. Leanore spun around, sweeping Lexis in an accelerating circle until her body left the ground. The smaller woman yelled aloud as she gained height, spinning faster and faster. Even the men on the pump had stopped to watch, and the water subsided to a trickle. The wet deck was slippery underfoot, but Leanore was sure- footed. She swung Lexis higher and higher, until she was revolving at shoulder height. At the peak of her arc, Leanore released her. Lexis's body flew through the air, smashing into the stout mesh with such force that it bent and bellied outward. She tumbled to the deck in a heap, moaning in her battered and dazed state, and Leanore stepped toward her to finish it forever. A sharp point pressing against her kidneys stopped her cold. "Enough!" She had picked up sufficient of the new language to know that the man's voice meant business. "Don't move". She stood still, letting her arms fall to her sides. Two men ran past her and bent over Lexis, turning her onto her back and examining her injuries. Fallus Maximus appeared in front of her, flanked by two guards with swords drawn. Leanore stared at him impassively, noting the twinkle of excitement that belied the anger on his face. He returned her gaze while he spoke to the men crouching over Lexis. "How is she?" One of the attendants got up and stood to attention. The rank and file did not speak to a centurion from a kneeling position. "Two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder, sir. Lots of bruises, and possible internal bleeding. And she's probably concussed, too". "Will she live?" "Hard to say, sir. It depends on her spirit. She's strong and fit, and she may live, but personally, I doubt it". "Get her below. Do what you can". Maximus glared at Leanore as he chose his words. "You. You will be punished. Understand? Punished?" Leanore shook her head. "I not understand. Lexis use.water to.she try get me, I hit back. Not my." Her vocabulary failed her. "Not me". "Not your fault?" "Yes. Not my fault". "Do you think I give a shit?" he snapped. "Not one of you can be allowed to get away with this kind of thing. You will be punished". He turned to the guards. "Put her in the box". The two guards grasped her upper arms and tried to drag her away. Leanore tensed her muscles and refused to budge; the two men could not shift her. The sharp point in her back was a timely reminder, though, and with a final glare at the centurion, she allowed herself to be led away. The box was a six- by three- by two-foot crate. By folding herself up as small as possible, it would be just feasible for Leanore to fit inside. She took one look at it, and stopped in her tracks, jerking the soldiers to a halt with her. Under the threat of their weapons, she offered no violence, but no matter how hard they pulled they could not move her an inch. Maximus strode up behind. She turned her head to look at him, indicating the box with a nod. "No", was all she said. Maximus summoned two more guards to help. Leanore braced her feet against the deck as they laid hands on her, and twisted, hauling the four around with her. They struggled and heaved, but she was more than equal to them all. They made no progress. Maximus sighed. "You! You, you, and you! Get in here! Get her down!" In the end, it required nine legionnaires to cram Leanore, spitting and struggling, into the box and shut the lid. Thick baulks of timber pushed through strong iron loops held the crate shut, while heavy straps of metal made smashing through the sides out of the question. "Falass Mazzimuz!" Her voice was cold and growling through clenched teeth. "Here!" Her tone was so commanding that, despite himself, Maximus approached the box and stared down at her through the slats. "Here", she repeated. "I see you eye". Maximus sighed and bent over, looking through a gap so she could see his eyes. "I see you first, I say I kill". "Yes, you did. There's no chance, of course, but if it makes you feel better." He winked over his shoulder at the men, who laughed politely. "I remember you". Maximus looked at her quizzically. Even through the slats in the box, shut in, humiliated, and dehumanised, she still gave him a stirring in his loins, was still the most desirable female he had ever seen. "What do you mean, you remember me? I don't suppose you'll ever forget". She stared at him levelly for a moment, searching her vocabulary for the right words. "I say I kill. I say again. I remember you". Her deathly calm words gripped his spine with chilly fingers as he grasped her meaning. When he spoke, it was with a quiet reflection in his voice. "You remind me. You said you'd kill me, and now you're reminding me". "Yes. I reminding you". He gazed into her eyes, reading the absolute certainty he saw in them. For a moment, he could not look away. He swallowed hard and harrumphed as he straightened up. "You're in no position to make any threats", he told her as he walked away. After a few paces he turned and spoke to his men, pasting a lascivious leer on his face for their benefit. "You men", he said. "Bring her to my cabin after supper". He resumed walking, calling over his shoulder as he left. "Make sure she's shackled, and keep her at sword-point". * Leanore had an idea of what was going to happen. She was not naive, and knew she wasn't being dragged to Fallus Maximus's cabin after dark for polite conversation. Shackled, surrounded by seven guards and at sword- point, she stood with head held high and proud as one of the legionnaires rapped on the door. "Come!" The legionnaire pushed open the door, and she was propelled into the cabin by a sharp jab with a sword point. She glared defiantly at the figure that sat at a long table in the centre. Fallus Maximus leered at her, indicating the table to his men. "Put her on the table and spread her legs. And you" He pointed at one of the men. "Keep your sword at her throat and, if she gets loose, kill her". The man looked doubtful. "Do it! Because believe me, if she gets free and injures me, you will spend the rest of your career in the furthest, coldest shithole in the Empire". The soldier drew himself to attention. "Yessir!" In the end, it took the efforts of all seven guards to force Leanore onto the table. To restrain the long columns of solid muscle that were her legs, two men laid hold of each limb and employed every ounce of their combined strength to keep them apart. Two others gripped her arms and leaned well back, using both weight and strength to keep them immobile. The seventh man laid the razor edge of his short sword against her neck, ready to slice open her throat at the least provocation. There was no denying that all the men were excited and aroused by their participation in the debased act that was about to take place. Their heavy breathing was as much to do with their lust as with their exertions, and several moaned in their throats at the prospect. Leanore was undeniably an exceptionally beautiful woman, with an almost palpable femininity enhanced by her extraordinary strength and muscularity, and every one of them wished her were in the position of their centurion. Fallus Maximus ripped off her loincloth, climbed up onto the table, and knelt between her outspread legs. He was all but slobbering as he looked down on her, hitching up his kilt to expose his short but thick tumescent phallus. Unable to move her head, Leanore nevertheless spat on it with great accuracy and growled deep in her chest as she watched the string of spittle drip from his bulbous glans. Maximus laughed at her defiance. He lowered himself on her, grasping his penis with one hand and pushing it against her exposed vulva. "No!" Leanore grunted through her clenched teeth. The slab of muscle that was her belly ridged as she tensed it hard, clamping down hard with her powerful vaginal muscles and allowing him no entry. He pushed and pushed, driving in his stubby fingers, trying to make her open for him, but her power was too great. He grew red in the face and cursed at her. His violent probing with his hard penis was actually beginning to hurt. Finally, he lost patience. Drawing back a meaty fist, he slammed it with all his strength into her oaken belly. She tensed even harder, and the blow had little effect against her terrific musculature. It bounced off the rubbery hardness, jarring his wrist in the process. But it did succeed in diverting her concentration from her vagina and those muscles relaxed slightly. Maximus grabbed his opportunity and rammed his phallus home, deep inside her dry vagina. Both he and his victim sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth at the sudden hot pain. A wide grin then split Maximus's face, and Leanore shuddered as a gobbet of his drool splashed onto her belly. Half a dozen thrusts and he was done. His body convulsed as he shot his meagre semen into her, and he fell forward atop her with a groan. Leanore came close to vomiting as she felt his sweaty weight upon her and his rancid breath in her face. After he had penetrated, Leanore had given up her struggle against the men holding her down. As a result, they in turn had relaxed slightly. Their grip would still have been more than sufficient to hold anyone else, but this was Leanore. The men gasped in surprise as her biceps swelled and she ripped her arms out of their grasp. The man with the sword had no time to react. Her hard fists smashed into their faces, jerking their heads back. Both men collapsed onto the floor, consciousness gone, and in the same move she brought both fists up in an arc to crash into the swordsman's temples. There was a dull crack as his skull fractured and he died on his feet. She shoved him away before he collapsed on top of her. The legionnaires holding her legs let go to scrabble for their sidearms. A fatal mistake. Legs free, Leanore wrapped them tight around Maximus's thick waist. He grunted as the breath was driven from him. The terrific power of her great thighs clamped ever tighter, and he battered pathetically against them, panic written all over his face. Simultaneously, Leanore reached out and seized a man's head in both hands. A quick wrench snapped his thick neck, and he fell bonelessly to the deck. He had not hit the floor before she drove her fist into the face of the man next to him, felling him with one blow. Maximus gurgled as he struggled for breath. His tongue protruded and his eyes bugged out, his hands slapping at her frantically. Leanore snarled and gave a convulsive twist of her hips. Maximus screamed as his vertebrae snapped, severing his spinal column at the lumbar level. She unlocked her legs, and pushed him from her, rolling him off the table like a sack of sand. All of this had happened so quickly, that the two legionnaires still standing had only just drawn their swords. A lightning kick shattered the wrist of the nearest man, sending his sword spinning away. She backhanded him aside and reached out a long arm to pluck the sword from the fingers of the other. Inexpertly, she swung it at his head. He ducked and dodged back, yelling for help at the top of his lungs. Her long legs swung over the edge of the table, and she stood up. At her feet, Fallus Maximus grovelled, whimpering in his pain and distress. Her lip curled as she gazed down on him with utter loathing. Her fury rose to even greater levels, and the corded tendons of her neck stood out as she screamed at him like an angry panther. Leanore raised a foot high. Maximus bellowed his panic, raising fending hands. Propelled by her enormous strength, the foot stamped down, brushing aside his inconsequential hands, smashing into his fear-contorted face. With a sickening crunch, the bones of his face collapsed under the blow. Splinters of bone pierced his brain, and he knew a moment of searing agony before, mercifully, he died. Leanore indulged herself in a last contemptuous kick at the inert corpse of the centurion, before she turned to the last undamaged man. He backed away, holding his hands out protectively. He manoeuvred himself behind a chair, grasping its back to hold it between him and the advancing amazon. Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. Leanore knew that, if she were to have any chance of escape, even to have a slim chance of swimming to safety, it would have to be taken now. She crossed to the door in one long stride and flung it open. Light exploded inside her head as the chair, swung with a force enhanced by fear, smashed over the back of her head. Bright spots danced before her eyes. Leanore fell to her knees and keeled over.