Chapter 3

Trellis ran through the soft grass which caressed his flanks and exposed manhood, stumbling from time to time as his bare feet were punished by the occasional rough stone protruding from the otherwise smooth ground, which in stretches no more than several hundred yards between the cover of trees and bushes, seemed like miles as he was conscious of his exposure. He collapsed with his lungs fit to burst, in a hollow within a wooded copse and lay panting, not daring to look as the image of the severe woman and the her emasculated males haunted his mind.

He felt a breeze on his back, and looked up to see the trees waving softly, a blind panic setting in as a black craft passed slowly overhead, then sent leaves and small debris circling around him as it landed close by. He played dead for a good five minutes, not daring to move as his ears strained to hear anything above the rustling of the trees, frozen in fear. At last, feeling at least partly confident that he’d not been detected, he crawled to the top of a mound and peered in the direction that he’d seen the ship heading. His heart raced as he saw the dark line of the roof of its hull, just visible above the line of another row of trees some three hundred yards off. His heart sank again into a pit of fear, as he saw another track close to where he lay, and heard the crack of whips coming from the reverse direction. He peered up to see chariots, one driven by the fearful woman who’d doused salt on her charges, and another ridden by a more petit younger woman, though her team were being prompted just as zealously by her whip. He could now hear their voices, the older woman veering her chariot down a track to the left.

“He can’t be far Breda, Hoona’s on the north pass ... he’s bound to show himself soon, you keep on this track and we’ll flush him out.” As the older woman’s chariot disappeared down the lane, he craned his neck to view the pretty female as she showed her three castrated males the pleasure of her whip, her lithe femininity and blonde hair tempered by the spite she showed her charges, teasing some arousal from Trellis as he let his guard down ... fatally. He heard a crack behind him, and lifted to his knees in fear, turning to find two grinning women standing over him. Both were clad in tight black leather, their mature curves displayed to the full by the tight belts and sashes which held their numerous weapons; the curved scabbards of the large swords. They sported, accentuating the curvaceous forms of their femininity which bulged generously from the leather. They noted the partial erection of his cock as he cowered beneath them.

“So Drusa, it seems our gift from the heavens shows as keen an interest in the Gelding House bitch as we do.” The other woman’s eyes focused from her sharp features on the nearing chariot, the spite emanating from the auburn haired and pale skinned woman, not lost on Trellis as he knelt frozen, not daring to bolt.

“Oh yes Garma my dear ... two for the price of one ... a non-neutered male, and a bitch to ride the goddess at Blackhall, my cunt is certainly up for both.” She stepped forward with a cruel sneer and placed the soul of her long black boot to his shoulder.

“Fetch!” She thrust her weight forward and sent Trellis tumbling out of the undergrowth, down the bank toward the track and into the eyes of the blonde.

To the approaching Breda it was though he’d simply bolted from the field above and lost his footing; she didn’t give where he’d emerged from a second glance, and was down from her chariot with her weighted net in flash, and as Trellis tried to regain his footing, he was immediately tripped by the meshed cloak she’d sent gracefully to him. Trellis stumbled back down to the dirt track, the weights effecting his entanglement superbly as they swung and twisted to ensure his capture. With his feet brought close together as he fell, the petit blonde woman put her delicate hands through the mesh and secured his ankles with a velcro-like strap, and was pleased to see him wriggle to an erection as she secured his wrists similarly; captured so easily by no more than a girl, his sense of erotic submission was teased from him.

Breda stood proudly over her capture, and as she lifted her communicator to boast her achievement to her kinfolk, a whip cracked from behind her and curled about her wrist. The leather clad women had descended behind her as she trussed the hapless Trellis, and were upon her before she could react. He watched as the delicate girl was wrestled to the ground, no match for the two mature and buxom women, who delighted in slapping her soft flesh as the garments were torn from her. She was swiftly trussed and gagged, her poking pear shaped arse and delicate cunt exposed and violated by the fingers of Drusa. She sniffed at the essences on her fingertips and grinned.

“Yes! This one is more than ready to ride the Goddess!” She poked the squirming girl with the heel of her boot as four more similarly dressed women descended the bank, each gloating at the captures which lay ready for transportation. Drusa’s cruel smile broadened as she took in the collective pleasure of her colleagues, her spite for a defeated member of a rival clan increasing.

“Your hunting days are over my girl, and that pretty cunt’ll know one final illustrious orgasm ... one we’ll all enjoy. But first we’ll have to make sure no one tells the tale - not that it won’t be obvious to that whore Candia.” Trellis feared for his life as the dominant woman drew her curved sword and paced on his direction, the light of the sun on her black leather illuminating the arousal her cunt showed so prominently in the soft hide, between her superbly large thighs and broad hips which seemed to glide past each other as she walked. He cowered in the dust, much to the amusement of the other women, and was relieved to see her long boots stride past him to the chariot. She stood and grinned at the three castrated charges, their expressionless faces confirming that the last vestiges of masculine spirit had long been whipped from them by a greater power, and put the flat of her blade to their empty scrotums before unhitching each, receiving the ironic laughter of her colleagues.

“You’re none of you any use to a woman ... you”ll kneel by the road and be reunited with your balls.” Trellis watched, his heart racing faster than ever, as the three males knelt in utter obedience, a yard apart on guessing their fate - each closing their eyes, and their previously inanimate faces showing a serene look of contentment. Trellis could not help but fully erect as he watched the mature redhead posture with her sword, her full round arse and large breasts expressed wonderfully in the leather as she swivelled her hips and brought the sword high up behind her. The look on her face was one of pure unbridled spite as she savoured the exposed neck of the first male, then flashed the sword down and round, giving a haughty feminine grunt as she exerted herself in focusing her power to the blade. The women applauded loudly as the dull thump of impact saw the decapitation carried out cleanly, the severed head dropping to roll in the road, a spurt of blood pumping from the stump of the headless body’s neck as it crumpled and fell to one side with the limbs twitching. The head lay facing Trellis, who saw its eyelids flicker for a few seconds, the expression on its face, one of contented satisfaction as though asleep and dreaming of some lusty paradise.

The other two males quivered as the applause died down, their whipped and beaten bodies which cloaked their broken and utterly defeated spirits, as eager to receive the blade as Drusa was in wielding it. Though their cocks hung limply, they both felt the pleasurably erotic desire in giving up their lives to womanhood, having been reduced to the very nadir of submission; the third chosen, experiencing the extra bliss of hearing the pleasure the deaths of the other two awarded the women. The second stretched his neck willingly, giving Drusa a superb sexual tingle as she obligingly dispatched his head with gusto, bringing a cheer of heartfelt approval from the sadistic female audience as they watched his head roll to the dirt.

Drusa was now in her element as she gloated over the second while his headless corpse sank to its side, the pink bell-end showing the vestiges of a feeble erection to confirm the submissive ecstasy it’s owner had felt on knowing the blade; she had not executed three males in succession in some time, and her cunt was hot in the tight leather, the indulgence of her next orgasm would be vividly enhanced by the experience, and she was not far from coming as she lifted the blade to despatch the third.

He quivered impatiently with neck stretched and angled as the jeering women voiced their spiteful enthusiasm at witnessing his death, his sutured cock swollen as never before, since losing the contents of his sown and empty sack below it; the reaction more from physical memory of the sensual delights it once offered, but a darkly erotic feeling of submissive defeat filled his senses just the same, through tingling anus and the crushing obedience in his posture, below a dominant woman who’d confirm his worthlessness by showing him his place permanently. His only regret was that he’d been cruelly robbed of his function to spend in ecstasy, as spend by this point he knew he would have. Though the final torture of that thought filled him with a yearning for a pleasure he’d never know, the masochism it engendered in the memory of being emasculated by a woman, brought his bell to a post-castration high as he fe!t her posture with the sword.

Drusa held the blade high, admiring her own shadow which brought her budding clitoris to a lush zenith, caressed by her tight leather as she brought the blade down in a perfect arc. The male hoped his head would live long enough to register the delighted cheer given by the women; he heard her grunt and felt the shock of the blade ... Drusa carried the sword through its arc with perfection, gasping with satisfaction as the third head was taken cleanly off, to roll, blinking at her, then settle with its face showing the bliss of freedom she’d awarded it.

Trellis squirmed on the road as the stark yet serene smiles of the heads were shown to him by Drusa, Garma, and an equally sadistic looking companion, lifted in spiteful triumph and the pleased expressions shown the sneering contempt of all the women there, he knowing extra shame by showing an erection which the three departed males had more than earned. Drusa grinned wickedly as she and the others tossed the heads like discarded apple cores to the ditch beyond after he’d had a good look, and they’d paid their total disrespect, then put her bloodied blade up to his standing cock.

“Don’t think that you’ll be offered such an easy and painless death, you’ll be put to good use before you earn your peace ... and whilst you still have your balls, you’ll be taught to enjoy suffering and absolute obedience, while we see if you make the grade...” She cast her eyes to where the heads had been tossed.

“ ... or end up on the road under a perpetual whip, minus your balls.” Her eyes then went to the wriggling Breda, as Trellis and the lithe blonde girl were hoisted on poles and each carried between two of the more muscular women in black, across the field to the trees which hid their ship. Drusa stroked the soft white cheeks of the bound girl’s arse as her body swayed beneath the pole.

“I have a duty for you to perform when we’re back on board, one which I’m greatly in need of, following the pleasure of neutering your donkeys completely, one which will be the last you’ll enjoy.” The girl grunted through the gag and wriggled on the pole, defiant, but knowing what happened on the journey would be the least of her problems. Trellis did not wriggle, his cowardly body was stiff with fear as they approached the black craft beyond the trees. Garma laughed as Drusa continued to fondle the soft cheeks of the blonde as she was taken aboard, but Trellis squirmed as he realised he was being taken round the outside of the hull to the broad nose of the ship, and begged for mercy on seeing what awaited him. Garma showed him her whip, along with the other two athletic women, enjoying seeing him writhe on submission as he was given just a taste of what was to come. Her pleasure at his distress was both fulfilling and warmed her to the promise of what was to come.

“Oh yes ... you’ll ride in submission, displayed for one and all to examine on our arrival at Blackhall, where you’ll be enjoyed by many ... un-gelded males with no mark of ownership provide a welcome sport.” Trellis whimpered under the onslaught of lashes, his eyes studying the four shackle rings which crossed the viewing window on the blunt nose of the ship; at the base of the window, just below central of the rings, projected a large and generously curved metallic phallus, it’s rude bell awaiting a suitable victim. His feeble resistance reduced by the whips, Trellis was hoisted with the assistance of more women who came to enjoy his being accommodated for the short trip, which would seem endless for him.