Interrogation of an Amazon

The following totally fictitious writings of M Coolham are intended for the sole readership of those of LEGAL AGE. The ADULT ONLY material contained within is also for personal use only where local standards permit scenes of violence, torture and sex. Please do not read further if any of these subjects offend, or if you are not of legal age.

This is a work of fiction. The author does not condone violence of any sort.

The following is under Copyright and is for your sole enjoyment. Your cooperation in not using the material in any other application without the express permission of the author is requested. Thank you.

INTERROGATION OF AN AMAZON

CHAPTER FOUR

Delivered.

Britt had been offered the chance to whip Amphora providing he agreed not to mark her permanently and to ensure that she was taken to the healers once he had finished with her. He knew that the crowd sensed the contest had been a draw at best – possibly even a psychological victory for Amphora. Having dismounted the platform he did not want to wait around while she hung in her chains, people looking and pointing his way. Britt had shared many guard duties with Flamt and, believing him to be reliable, had asked his fellow soldier to bring the prisoner to the healers.

The door to the inner castle was close to the back of the platform. Although the crowd gathered round and pressed in for a chance to touch the Amazon's body, the small group was soon inside the building. The cool of the interior soothed the warrior's body, kinder to her damaged skin than the fire of the late afternoon sun.

Daylight faded as they walked towards the central section of the fortress, the way lit with torches. A smell of damp permeated the air. The woman's short ankle chains dictated the speed at which they could travel. They clattered against the stone floor, the sound echoing in the dingy corridor.

Flamt walked ahead of the group, Amphora behind him, a man holding each of her arms, and Glax bought up the rear with the other two men, the three of them entranced by her jiggling buttocks and firm thighs, occasionally glimpsing the sides of her swaying breasts. With each step the tops of her boots flopped against her thighs. They took it in turns to hold her arms. Each wanted a feel of the solid flesh that covered hard muscle underneath her smooth skin. The coating of sweat on her toned body heightened the experience.

They turned right and entered a long passage. Suddenly Flamt turned and stopped, signaling for the others to do the same. He walked up to the Amazon and looked her up and down. She glared at him.

"You really are remarkable," said Flamt, his eyes fixed on her breasts. "What do you say we have a little fun?!"

"But what about Britt's instructions?" said one of the men.

"And the Major too," said another.

"A moment can't hurt," said Flamt. "Hold her Glax".

Before she could react Glax was right behind her, locking his arms behind hers pulling her elbows together. Being her height, his face was in her hair, the scent sweet despite the sweat. His tunic rubbed against the woman's raw back making her wince. Glax drew his arms together forcing her shoulders back, her breasts thrusting forwards. Held tight, her abdominal muscles formed a solid ridge down the centre of her torso. She shook her head fighting to get free, her weighty breasts bouncing uncontrollably, her hair flying in front of her face. Glax wrestled with her, turning her violently so that he could lean his back against one of the walls while he concentrated on strengthening his hold.

"Steady," said Flamt. "No one needs to get hurt here. I just want a feel of Amazon flesh".

He stretched out his arm to fondle her breast. With lightening speed she drove Glax hard against the wall, blasting her head back against his nose. Simultaneously, using Glax's arms as support, she raised her chained feet and drove the heels of her boots into Flamt's crotch. Her aggressor was flung against the other wall. He fell to the floor, groaning, his hands covering his balls.

Blood covered Glax's face. He freed her, instinctively reaching for his damaged nose. Flamt lay writhing on the floor. The Amazon could not go far with her ankles in chains and she was soon caught by the other four men who pinned her against the wall, one with his arm at her throat, one pressing each of her shoulders to the stone, the other driving his fist into her abdomen. The nauseating sound of fist against muscle mixed with the groans of the injured men. She fought but they restrained her, her breathing heavy from anger and the exertion.

The cousins gathered themselves and came to stand in front of the warrior, nursing their wounds. Flamt noticed a door a short way down the corridor. "In there," he pointed with his head. "Get her in there".

Glax went ahead and opened the door onto a dark windowless room. The four soldiers wrestled the struggling woman through the door and held her, one man standing behind her his arm still around her throat. He pulled back her head arching her spine making her stomach muscles pronounced and harder than ever. Flamt grabbed a torch from one of the corridor's wall brackets and entered, closing the door. The light from the flame bought the room to life and they could see it was a storage area, pewter tankards and other iron kitchen equipment stacked on shelves that lined three of the walls from floor to ceiling. A large oak table stood against the fourth wall. Glax took the torch from Flamt and placed it in a metal holder. The flames danced, glancing off the bowls and saucepans in confused fashion.

Flamt approached the trapped Amazon, taking care to come at her from the side anxious to avoid a repeat performance. With her hands tied behind her and her body arching backwards, her muscled bronze torso presented an open target. He smashed his fist into her belly. The sound of the impact was sickening. She was ready for him, her muscles tensed, so the blow hurt his hand more than her stomach.

"I only wanted a little feel you bitch," he spat. "If it's a fight you want, it's a fight you've got. You chose the wrong man to reject".

"Six onto one," hissed Amphora. "Is that the only way Thoranian men can get a woman?" She was breathing deeply, her chest heaving, sweating in the airless chamber.

Another blow to her abdomen. And another. She struggled against being held, Flamt's punches glancing ineffectually off her twisting body. The man knew he wasn't hurting her.

"Bring over the table," he motioned to Glax.

The men pulled their trophy out of the way slamming her chest against the door. They held her there, her breasts, hip bones, and thighs rubbing against the rough wood, the tiny cuts to the front of her body irritated by the splintering wood. Glax dragged the table to the centre of the room, its wooden legs shuddering against the stone. The table was five foot long, three foot wide, and sturdy in build.

"Put her on the table," said Flamt. "Face up".

Knowing what was coming she made a supreme but futile effort to escape, trying to floor the man who was holding her from behind. But they had anticipated her move and the six men grabbed her, one on each leg, two on each arm, swung her round and threw their victim onto the table. She landed hard on her bound arms, her shoulders and upper back making contact with the wood, her reactions saving her head from smashing against the surface. She forced the acute pain from her mind, concentrating on how she could avoid what they were about to do to her.

Amphora's head was at one end of the table, her bent knees at the other, her feet dangling off the edge. The Amazon went to raise herself but they overpowered her before she could move. Glax pressed against her cheek holding her face sideways to the table. One man leaned on each of her shoulders. Two held her muscular legs. Flamt watched while she thrashed against the gang, her body twisting, her breasts bouncing, her muscles flexed and hard. The effort made her grunt.

"Let's tie her," said Flamt, his voice raised against the sound of her body banging against the wood.

He found a coil of rope, returned to the table, and cut four long pieces of cord. He threw three across her chest and one over her waist. The rope was clammy. "All the better for grip," he thought and let the ropes fall either side of the table. "Keep her down," he said. "This won't take a second".

He crawled under the table and tied the ends of the ropes together, the dampness of the hemp making it easier to knot. Flamt knew how to use rope; not for the first time he was grateful for his stint in the navy. He could feel her struggling against being bound and enjoyed the sensation of pulling the ropes tight, her movement becoming more restricted as the ropes pulled her harder and harder against the tabletop.

Flamt stood up to admire his handiwork; he smiled. The Amazon's tapered waist was secured flat to the table. A chaos of rope criss-crossed her chest pulling down on her gorgeous breasts. Her tits fought to exit from the tangle of ropes that encased her. Her right nipple was laid flat under the coarse hemp, her left standing proud, rope passing either side directly on her aureole. He could see that the damp cord was biting into her hard bronzed torso.

Amphora was tied tight to the table, her hands still secured behind her back. The soldiers that had been holding her upper body released their victim but the men gripping her legs continued to wrestle with the warrior. The downward pressure on the captive's breasts resurrected the agony of being dragged by her chest, the log across her shoulders.

"Let me go you BASTARDS," she yelled.

"We're just having a bit of fun," said Flamt. "We'll soon be on our way. Let's get those ankle chains off you".

While the men held her legs, Flamt unlocked the ankle cuffs and the chain clattered against the stone floor. The soldier stood at the end of the table looking down at the trapped woman. Glax came to join him. She glared back at them, both in awe at the incredible shape of her abdominal muscles, accentuated with her head raised off the table.

"S-p-r-e-a-d her," Flamt said deliberately, leering at the struggling beauty. He'd forgotten about the pain in his groin.

The soldiers pulled her legs apart. She bucked and squirmed but she was held fast, the heavy table proving to be the perfect anchor. She resisted being spread, the men working hard to hold her, one man on each thigh and one on each calf. Two on each leg was too many for her and she was powerless to prevent them from spreading her wide.

"Who's going first?" asked Glax. With testosterone pumping, and the stunning woman tied before them like an answer to their prayers, they all volunteered.

"NOOOOO," Amphora screamed out.

"Too bad miss hard-body," said Flamt, coming to stand in-between her legs. "You should have thought of that when you rejected my advances. I was only trying to be friendly". He smirked, enjoying her fear. "I think you're rather over-dressed".

He reached down, grabbed the front of her black cotton panties, and ripped them off, the skimpy material coming away easily. He stood taking in her beauty, her panties moist in his hand. Her line of dark hair, so perfectly feminine, drew his gaze down to her secret lips – a pink gate guarding heaven. She looked unbelievable. So inviting. So utterly irresistible.

Flamt put her panties to his nose and inhaled deeply. "Mmmmm", he smiled. "You smell of honey. Anyone want a sniff?"

The men passed them round, each making some lurid comment, each intoxicated by her perfume.

"You're PATHETIC", she yelled.

Flamt drove his fist into her inner thigh. Smack. Knuckle against the flat of her muscled leg.

"We need to shut her up," said Glax. "Someone might hear her squeal".

"You're right," said Flamt. Looking around he saw some rope on one of the shelves. "Pass me that cord".

Glax obliged and the two men walked around to her head, Flamt taking a rag from his pocket. They both recoiled at the stench. "Have you been gutting fish again?" asked Glax.

"Pass me her panties", said Flamt and a man threw them over. "Want a taste my beauty?"

Glax held her head between his hands like a vice; her eyes forced to look at the ceiling. She opened her mouth to scream but Flamt was ready, thrusting her panties deep into her mouth, the rag following, its taste making her want to vomit. "AAAaaammmpphhh". Flamt laid the rope across her mouth and pulled down hard either side of her head, his hands against the table. "mmmmpphhhh" was all they could hear. Her eyes and forehead creased as her tongue fought to extricate the gag, futile now that the rope was in place. She couldn't move her head. The rope pulled at her cheeks, forcing the cloths deeper into her mouth. "aahhmmmpphhh". Amphora's face reddened, the veins in her neck throbbing.

"Hold the rope".

Glax moved his hands from her head and took over holding the rope. Flamt tied the ends together underneath the table, mirroring the ropes that held her chest and stomach. The Amazon's upper body was tied tight. Only her legs were free.

Amphora breathed heavily. Her breasts rose and fell, her chest unable to complete its full cycle because of the bonds. She felt the damp rope biting into the top of her breasts as her ribcage expanded and contracted. Her raw skin rubbed against the rough table, her hands uncomfortable in the small of her back. The men held her legs wide apart making her pelvis ache, partly from the sheer angle at which they held her, and partly because she had fought them so hard. She kept trying to draw her legs together, her thigh muscles straining, but it was to no avail. For her, the worst agony was the exposure; that these filthy men could see her most private place; that she was unable to cover herself. The thought of being violated by these thugs was too terrible to contemplate .

Flamt and Glax came round to stand between her legs again.

"You really are truly wonderful," said Glax. "I shall remember this moment always. I expect this to be the best fuck I'll ever have.

"mmmggghhhh".

"Speak up Amphora," said Flamt. "We didn't hear you". The men laughed.

They drew straws for the honours, Flamt winning the game.

"Fix," said Glax, grinning from ear to ear.

"I like mine naked", said Flamt. "Completely naked. I want her legs bare".

"As you wish," said Glax, and went to remove her right boot. She kicked like a wounded horse but he managed to take it off, throwing it to the floor. "Now the other one," said Glax walking round by her head to the other side of the table. He paused a moment to look down at her face, her expression a combination of anger and fear.

The ropes continued to do their job. She was held and at their mercy.

Continuing down the table towards her left leg, he couldn't resist taking a moment to study her squeezed breasts. He bent down and pulled at the rope running across the middle of her tits; tugging hard there was just enough give in the binding to take the pressure of her breast. Holding the rope free of her chest for a moment, he then released it, the cord snapping back against her skin, the soreness in her flesh amplifying the pain. Standing up, he looked at her face. "You're going to get what you deserve. No one bloodies my nose and gets away with it". He bent down and bit her exposed left nipple; so hard that his teeth almost met. To her it felt as if he was going to bite it off. "eeeaaaaghhhhh". The warrior closed her eyes, wincing, the sinews in her neck protruding wildly as she fought against her cruel bondage.

Glax went to pull off her left boot. The Amazon kicked out with all the energy she could muster. Glax and the two men holding her leg were flung against the shelving, pots and kettles falling to the ground, the noise in the enclosed space deafening, the sound escaping into the corridor.

"Grab her," hissed Glax, twice humiliated. The men got hold of her leg again and forced it wide. Wider than before. The soldiers holding her other leg pulled just a little bit further. "mmmmrrrpphhh". They could see her nostrils opening and closing vigorously as she fought to take in oxygen.

Glax removed her other boot and threw it down with the other.

"She's ready cousin," said Glax. "She's all yours!"

Flamt undid his belt. With her head tied to the table she could only look upwards. But she could sense what was happening. Even restrained this way she could see the motion of his arms.

The brute was naked from the waist down, his member rock hard and standing proud, already dripping with anticipation. He went to stand in-between her spread legs, savouring the moment, drinking in her fear. Tied tight as she was, and held wide apart by the men, she was still able to move her torso a little. He would enjoy the suggestion of a fight. He studied her legs, the flat of her muscular bronzed inner thighs, the muscles flexing and unflexing as she fought; a big turn-on for him. He stroked the inside of her legs and then slapped them as if she was his pet.

He came right up to her and placed his hands on the table either side of her waist.

"Are you ready for a real man, Amazon bitch?" he grinned.

The door flung open and the Major stormed into the room.

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?" he yelled. "What did I tell you?"

Instantly Flamt went limp. "It's just a bit of fun sir. She attacked me. And Glax. Look at his nose".

"I warned you about her," replied the Major. "I told you she's dangerous. But there's no excuse for this. You know the rules with this one. You get your chance, but AFTER the dungeon master. Untie her".

The soldiers released her taking care to tie a leash around her neck, and to reapply the ankle chains, before they freed her from the table. They left the gag in place. None of the gang looked her in the eye but the Major saw her expression; one moment a smirk, the next deep anger.

"I'll walk with you to the healers," said the Major. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance with her. And next time there'll be no interruptions".

* * *

Alexa, the principle healer, was making final preparations for Amphora's arrival. The healers had been expecting her having received a briefing from Nemo that morning.

"The woman will be delivered to you late this afternoon," he had said. "She has vital information that we need but she refuses to speak. Last night she was beaten and today she will have been paraded and whipped. Despite these ordeals I doubt she'll open up to us. She's exceptionally strong; I think that only a visit to the dungeon master will make her talk".

"How badly will she be hurt when she's brought here?" Alexa had asked.

"Superficial wounds only," the king had said. "The men who punished her had strict instructions not to scar her. The thug in the bowels of the castle likes to receive his victims unmarked".

"I'm sure we can have her ready within three days," said Alexa.

* * *

For the next thirty-six hours the healers worked on the Amazon with ointments and lotions. They fed her well and allowed her to sleep, puzzled at the names Sempha and Glaina that she frequently called. Much of the time Amphora was tied to a large iron bed, spread-eagled and face down because the skin on her back required particular attention. They applied balm to the cuts on the warrior's muscled back, shoulders, thighs, and stomach. They had a gentler cream for her breasts. While stroking her bronzed skin the healers often lingered, their fingers taking in the structure of her muscles, the hardness of her young flesh, the firmness of her generous breasts. Amphora was powerless to prevent the abuse; in addition to being under heavy guard she was bound at all times. Even in the relative sanctuary of the bathroom, manacles had been driven into the walls to secure the prisoner.

The healers bathed their patient in steaming water scented with sandalwood and lavender. With her limbs chained to anchor points at the corners of the tub, they rubbed and massaged Amphora's naked taut body, the precious herbs creating lather on the water's surface that hid their wandering hands. She could feel as they prodded and poked in every orifice, exploring her most private places. The warrior took no pleasure from their touch but chose to save her strength for what she knew lay ahead. Her loyalty to Sempha was uppermost in her mind. Whatever they had planned for her, she resolved to remain silent at all costs.

Although obviously in pain and somewhat weakened when she arrived, the resources and spirit of the Amazon had surprised the physicians. Her remarkable fitness, together with the magic of the potions, had worked wonders and on the third day their patient was ready. Her skin was once again flawless, the whips marks and bruises having completely disappeared.

"It's time to prepare her," said Alexa to the other healers. "You know what to do".

Amphora was tied naked to the bed, face up, her arms and legs spread wide, her wrists and ankles secured with rope to the bedposts, her raven-black hair splayed out above her head. Alexa fed her and allowed her to drink plenty of water. The healer never tired of watching her patient's body; the muscles tensing and flexing with every movement. She was in awe at the Amazon's undaunted pride. Alexa studied the captive's natural beauty with special poignancy knowing that within a few hours the victim was to be delivered. The physician doubted she'd ever see Amphora again. And if she did, she knew it was unlikely the stunning warrior would still look as she did now.

Within half an hour the Amazon was sleeping deeply. The drug that laced the water she had just drunk was very effective.

* * *

While the healers had been attending to Amphora, the Lynx had sailed to Lumana. During the journey the soldiers had busied themselves sharpening their swords and checking their equipment. They had interacted with the crew, swapping news and information about the mission. Three of the soldiers had been on the team that had captured Amphora. For all the rest, and the sailors too, this was their first trip to Lumana.

Haalet had been brought from the Admirals' cabin and introduced, the men expressing surprise that the Prince had chosen to volunteer. The evening before arriving at their destination Tevo and Costall had addressed the men.

"For most of you this will be your first encounter with the Amazons of Lumana," Tevo had said. "Do not be deceived by their beauty. These women are unlike any you will have met before. They fight as well as any man and are equally strong. Believe it".

The soldiers had listened attentively, some taking the warnings to heart, others dismissing the words as those of a commander anxious to puncture any complacency. At dinner that evening, while Tevo and Costall dined in the Admiral's quarters, all the talk had been of capturing the Princess. "And how about some playthings for the journey home?" Jemius had said, one of those who had experienced Amazon combat firsthand. Everyone had laughed. They had talked long into the night, exchanging stories and opinions about the parade and whipping that they had witnessed a couple of days earlier.

They had arrived at Lumana just before dawn on the third day. The troops had disembarked and split up into six groups of five. They had fanned out across the area, each man hoping that the commanders had guessed correctly – that Sempha would be heading for this region and that his group would be the one to find her.

* * *

Sempha and Glaina had left for the hills to go underground. The Princess suspected there were scouts in the area; they had proceeded with extreme caution. By dawn of the third day they had reached the outskirts of the forested area.

"How much time do you think Tolana has to prepare the defences before the Thoranians attack?" Glaina had asked. Sempha had understood the real meaning behind the question.

"Glaina," the Princess had replied softly. "No one can know. Amphora will hold out as long as she can but we both know that the enemy is determined. They will do to her whatever it takes to obtain the information they seek".

Glaina had remained silent, tears in her eyes.

Sempha had touched the forearm of her bodyguard. "Cercia leaves tomorrow with the rescue party. We can only pray they reach your sister in time".

* * *

And as the wind had filled the sails of the Lynx, as the Princess had consoled her bodyguard, and as Amphora had slept, a man had stood looking at a selection of branding irons laid out on a table trying to decide which one would be most appropriate to use. The Minotaur's head was for the king's personal slaves, the simple cross was for the prisoners who toiled in the labour camps, and the cat was for the women who made up the soldiers' harem. There were irons of other designs each with its own significance.

Then there was the scythe, the least used of all the brands. This was his own design. He had bought it with him when he swore his allegiance to the Thoranians half a decade previously. The king's express permission was required for the scythe to be used. The man could not remember when it had last been fired up. It had been prepared a couple of years ago for the blonde with the pale blue eyes who had slipped through his fingers. But he hadn't had a chance to thrust it into the hot coals and use it on her before she had escaped.

The scythe was for a woman chosen to be his. Once marked, he would have her for life; to work upon, and experiment with, for as long as she lasted.

For the first time in years he had handled the scythe. Smiling, he had picked up a sanding tool and started preparing the appalling brand. "At last," he had thought. "She's strong. She'll last for weeks".

* * *

Drifting back to consciousness Amphora heard voices. "She's waking up. Call the guards".

Fifteen minutes later the Amazon was fully awake. She opened her eyes and saw six heavily armoured men standing by the bed. The healers were nowhere to be seen. A dull sensation of cold steel aggravated her lower back. Trying to get comfortable she realized she'd been tied differently. Her hands were chained together behind her back and shackles were once again attached to her ankles. Looking down at her body she was surprised to see she was no longer naked. She was wearing a white sleeveless cotton dress that came down to her mid-thighs. The material was gathered at her waist by a gold cord. The dress was low cut, a V-shaped design showing off her cleavage. Her feet were bare. She felt what seemed to be a thong around her waist. The scent of rosemary, coupled with her instinct, told her that her hair had been washed.

The guards hauled the prisoner to her feet.

Now fully alert, Amphora noticed that the soldiers were staring at her. She was used to receiving attention, especially since entering the Thoranian castle. But there was something different in their gazes; almost as if they had witnessed a vision. "Perhaps they pity me," she wondered. She knew they had come to deliver her. "Of course they don't," her rationale kicked in. "Something's changed though".

Amphora stood in the midst of the group. There was silence.

"Time to go Amazon," said a tall soldier.

"Don't you think she should get one last look at her face?" said a shorter man. "If she ever gets out of there she won't be recognizable".

"Good idea," said the tall man, grinning. "Pass me your breastplate.

The shorter guard undid his shiny breastplate and passed it to the taller man. Two of the guards held the woman's arms while another grabbed a lump of her hair preventing her from moving her head. "Take a look beauty".

The soldier held up the breastplate in her line of vision. Amphora was visibly shocked. Her face had been lavishly made up as if she was going to a celebration. The healers had applied golden ointment on her upper eyelids to bring out the amber in her eyes, thin touches of black paint at the outer edges of her eyes to amplify their upward slant, a dusting of dark bronze powder to accentuate her cheekbones, and red paint to flesh out her full lips. Her hair had indeed been washed; it looked thick and lush. Even she, who had decorated herself for many special occasions in the past, was astonished at the results. She looked utterly ravishing.

"Like what you see?" The man gripping her hair yanked back her head.

The tall guard had noticed the Amazon's surprise. "Didn't they tell you?" he asked, smirking. "He likes his women……..perrrrfect". The gang laughed.

She felt a push from behind. "You're expected".

Making their way to the far end of the fortress Amphora's heart started to pound. Her mind was racing, trying to calculate how long it could possibly take for a rescue party to come. And even if they arrived, could they make it through the castle's defences? She tried to assemble a resistance tactic. But fear was numbing her thought process. Sempha's words rang in her ears. "Whatever happens, don't let the Thoranians take you alive. The men are evil beyond words. If they took you…………..and if you chose to remain silent they would torture you in hideous ways. Even a woman with a body as remarkable as yours would be sacrificed if it meant getting closer to the gold".

The men were gripping her muscular arms tightly. The heavy ankle chain had been adjusted so that it was shorter than before. The prisoner could do no more than shuffle, the cold flagstones unforgiving against her bare feet. Descending further into the bowels of the fort the air became thicker and hotter. The deeper they got the fewer people they passed; those they did staring at the bound woman in astonishment. They reached a locked wooden door and the tall guard pulled out a large rusty key. She could sense the soldiers were in trepidation. Amphora swallowed hard, her throat tightening, her breathing becoming constricted.

They passed through the opening and the soldier locked the door behind them. The corridor in front of them was narrow and dark, few torches alight. The shorter guard took one of the flames and walked ahead. The corridor turned to the left, then to the right, and ended at a flight of stairs. It was even darker below.

Once they reached the lowest level they saw a large door ahead of them, two distinctive hinges holding it to the frame. It was a dead end. Walking towards the final door she noticed a smaller door set into the wall on the left side. Damp humid air was making them all sweat. The place smelt of horror. Amphora fought against the chains that secured her hands, a futile gesture she realized.

They stopped in front of the smaller door and the tallest guard produced another key from his jerkin. He turned the lock and the door opened, the sound of its squeaking hinges echoing in the rarified atmosphere. The man bearing the torch entered first and Amphora was half pushed half pulled into the room after him. The door was closed behind her.

The room was tiny; no more than ten feet long and eight feet deep. The light from the single torch was sucked into its darkness, almost ineffectual against the gloom. Water dripped from the corners of the high ceiling. Three of the walls shone in the pale irregular light. The fourth wall, on one of the long sides of the room, seemed dry. Then she noticed that it wasn't stone, but thick black cloth. The chamber was empty but for a piece of dulled-metal in the shape of a 'T' that protruded from the floor in the centre of the room. The 'T' was four feet high and the horizontal top section was two feet wide, rounded, six inches in diameter. The top piece of the 'T' ran parallel to the curtain.

With seven of them in the room it was crowded. The men seemed in a hurry to complete their final task. Without speaking, they pulled her to the 'T' and placed her facing the curtain. The soldiers forced her arms behind the 'T' so that the middle of her back was against the top of the 'T'. They chained the centre of her handcuffs to a manacle half way up the vertical part of the 'T'. They released her ankles and retied them with rope, three feet apart, to metal rings set into the stone floor. Lastly they forced her elbows together, tied them with rope, and then secured that cord to the circular top section of the 'T', the metal cold against her flattened biceps and inner forearms. The men used the join of the 'T's upright and horizontal sections to bind her elbows, criss-crossing the hemp around the heart of the 'T'. Once the struggling prisoner was secured they stepped back to take one last look at the beautiful victim.

Tied this way, Amphora was immobile. The thickness of the horizontal top section of the 'T', compounded by the tying of her elbows, meant that her muscular shoulders were forced back making her breasts thrust forwards, her nipples clearly visible through the material of her dress. With her arms pulled back her triceps stood proud, her upper arms at right angles to her sinewy forearms. They could see her bare arms and cleavage glistening with sweat, her stunning face matt under the decoration. Her thick black hair swept down her back in sharp contrast to the white cotton, her locks shiny even in the dim light. The gold belt drew in her waist, so very tapered in opposition to her broad shoulders, amplifying the V-shape of her hard torso. Her legs, visible from mid-thighs downwards, displayed their spectacular muscles as she struggled against the ropes. She bloomed - in every way their absolute fantasy.

The guards were torn, wanting to leer a while longer yet anxious to escape the oppressive atmosphere of this terrible place. Opening the door to the corridor the tall man led out the troops. He took the few steps to the main door and passed a note under the wood. The short man with the torch left last. Just before parting he stepped back and stood before the bound Amazon. She was like a temptress, his for the taking. But he had to go. Coming to stand close, the woman struggling as best she could, he spat out three words: "Welcome to hell".

* * *

Amphora was tied like an offering to a revered spirit.

She was alone in the pitch black - alone in all senses of the word. Miles from help, surrounded by enemies, cruelly tied, and totally helpless. She looked around, frantically seeking a way out but she was blind in the absolute darkness of her prison. The Amazon fought against the ropes, her hair flying from side to side as she shook her head in an effort to sum up some imagined immortal strength that would free her. But they had secured her well. In the utter blackness should could see nothing – not even her heaving breasts.

She could feel, though, and all her senses were alert and focused.

And she could hear. She became aware of her breathing, so loud when there was nothing to distract her hearing. The ropes creaked as she wrestled with her bonds. The water continued to drip at regular intervals.

And she could smell. Such a strange mixture of scents. The sweetness of her hair mixed with the damp of the walls. More potent was her fear. She smelt it as if it was a carcass; rancid and unavoidable.

She gritted her teeth, clenched her fists, and fought once again. Her breasts swayed from side to side with the effort but her powerful body was held fast. She felt her nipples brushing against the inside of her dress.

* * *

The man bent down and picked up the piece of paper on which was written only one word: "Delivered".

* * *

In one swift movement, and without any warning, the curtain was pulled back. Light cascaded into the tiny room, Amphora screwing up her eyes against the brilliance.

Slowly she opened her eyes letting them get accustomed to the flood of light. She saw a massive well-lit room with scores of torches lining the walls. Various pieces of equipment stood in the chamber and chains, ropes, manacles, and hooks of all shapes and sizes hung down from beams running across the ceiling. Before she could take it all in four figures appeared in the space where the curtain hand been, silhouetted against the intense light, their shadows cast onto the floor around her.

As they approached the Amazon she renewed her struggle against the ropes, her heart rate quickening. Much to her surprise, one of them was a woman. They came closer and Amphora could begin to make out their faces. The female was thin, scrawny even, with lank brown hair, a pinched face, her dark eyes set close together. The men were of different heights and shapes; one was fat and bald, one was of medium build and had a mess of flesh where once his nose had been, and one was extremely tall and skinny with long un-kept hair. They all wore simple brown loose-fitting sleeveless jerkins and baggy trousers. The four people had one thing in common: they had the head of a Minotaur tattooed on their left shoulders.

The group split up and walked around the tied warrior inspecting her carefully. The fat man, shorter than her, ran his fingers across her cheek, Amphora turning her head to one side trying to avoid his clammy hand. "Smooth skin," she heard him say, his breathe foul. The woman stood behind the Amazon and reached inside the prisoner's dress, the aggressor's right hand clasping Amphora's left breast. The luscious breast was too large for the woman to grasp in one hand so she rotated her rough fingers around the warrior's tit squeezing the flesh and tugging at the nipple appreciating the weight and firmness of the breast. "Get your filthy hand off my body," Amphora hissed, the woman appearing not to hear and continuing with the clumsy massage. The tall man ran his hand through Amphora's hair as if his fingers were a comb, his long fingernails scratching her scalp. She shook her head in an effort to free herself from his hand.

They continued to study their trophy. None of them seemed especially fearsome to Amphora. She tried to guess which was the infamous dungeon master about which she had heard so many gruesome references. She felt a mild sense of relief; she had been expecting far worse. But her instincts told her to remain cautious.

The group eventually came to rest standing in a line behind her. She tried to turn her head to see them, suspicious of the silence that had enveloped the people, but she was too well tied and had to satisfy herself with the sound of their breathing, muted and calm.

Nothing and nobody moved for what seemed like an age. Amphora sweated in the heat, her heart slowing. Although tied and helpless, she felt less threatened now that she had seen the enemy. The water dripped, the people stood, she thought about her tactics. Which of the four was the weak link; perhaps the one she could befriend – implore for modest treatment - steal their keys, even, and escape from this dreadful place.

And then, as if by magic, the shadow of a huge man appeared in the entrance to the dungeon. His shadow covered her. He stood there, his hands behind his back, all six foot ten inches of him, his build muscular and powerful, his hair thick and curly hanging down to his shoulders. She knew immediately – this was HIM – his very presence the embodiment of evil.

He started to walk towards her. Her heart raced. She wrestled the bonds but they held her tight. He stood in front of her, his hands still behind his back. The brute towered over her six-foot frame. She could smell his unwashed body. He grinned revealing hideous crooked and broken yellow teeth behind cruel bloodless lips.

"So; this is the beautiful Amphora," his voice deep and husky. "They said you were something special. I can see that they were careful with their words. You are, indeed, astonishing".

She swallowed.

"I sense your fear," he said. "Tell me where to find Sempha and you will be spared the worst of my plans".

"You are mistaken," replied Amphora. "Your cheap words and stupid friends don't scare me. I will remain silent." She held eye contact with him, her amber eyes aglow in the torchlight.

The huge man grinned again.

"I'm so glad," he said.

Silence.

"I have a present for you," he whispered.

She sweated.

He raised one eyebrow and looked at his helpers.

"Do it," he barked.

Amphora heard the tall accomplice coming to stand immediately behind her. The helper reached across her shoulders and placed his hands on her dress, grasping both sides of the V-shape that exposed her cleavage.

"NOW".

The tall assistant ripped her dress apart, pulling it hard back off her shoulders and down to her elbows, the material splitting down the centre of her torso as far as her navel. Her breasts bounced vigorously as the cotton was forced across her chest and pulled violently down her back. The ruined material hung limp against her elbows, covering her forearms. The man went back to stand in line. Amphora's powerful shoulders, toned upper arms, luscious breasts, V-shaped torso, and muscled stomach were naked before her tormentor. Her breathing quickened – her chest rising and falling, her breasts quivering, her dark brown nipples hard and prominent. Her bronzed skin glistened in the dancing light. She was exposed, helpless, her taut firm body at his mercy.

The dungeon master withdrew his hands from behind his back. Then she saw it. Adrenalin surged through her body. She thrashed against her bonds, her wrists chaffing against the ropes, her ankles straining against the cuffs that held them, her torso straining to get free, her breasts swaying, her thick black hair flying as she manically shook her head, every muscle tensed and working. But it was no use; she was secured tight to the 'T' piece. She cried out "NOOO. NOOO," before checking herself from further exposing her sudden overwhelming fear.

In his right hand he held a branding iron, the scythe motif at the end red hot and smoking, acrid fumes and an unworldly sound of sizzling filling the room.

"You're mine now pretty Amphora," he said and took the final step towards her. "Where shall I start?"

To be continued

* * *