by Rue Chapman
The first slaves were led out, stripped naked for the ordeal ahead, trembling and nervous. Aliera watched, tense, from her cushioned seat above the arena, shaded by coloured silks and screened by fine gauze curtains. Her future would be decided today.
Down in the arena the women were urged into a line by the guards, then a roar went up from the crowd as the candidates strode out into the bright sunshine. Aliera leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Kevan; there he was, so handsome, his hair golden in the sunlight. Kevan who whispered sweet words to her, who kissed her hand, who promised he'd be the one chosen for her ceremony. He just had to win today.
The men lined up, stripped to the waist, flexing muscles and limbering up for the trials. Aliera counted twenty, the best of the best, every man sure he'd be the one. The huge form of a town blacksmith; a wiry miner from the mountains, one of those ageless little old men who are stronger than they look; soldiers of fortune trying for their big chance; solid burghers from the town; a few priests, hard-eyed and dedicated; half a dozen young lords, patrician and superior; two wild-eyed tribesmen from the plains. And Goran, the Commander of the Palace Guard. Aliera shivered. Goran, so arrogant, so sure of himself, always there whenever she wanted to do anything with his, "The Princess is mistaken, she will not be doing this today... My lady, this is not how a Princess behaves... I am sure His Majesty would not approve." His dark eyes sweeping over her without the awe and respect she received from the rest of the palace staff. Arrogant pig! He looked so huge and uncouth beside her lovely Kevan.
It began. Each of the contestants reached for a slave, then dragged her towards a line of seats. The men sat down, depositing their reluctant assistants over their knees. Twenty pale rumps pointed to the sky.
Twenty hands raised, waited for the signal. Whimpers from the miserable slaves sounded loud in the sudden silence. The High Priestess, Tiarna, stepped forward and looked down into the arena. At her gesture a gong sounded and twenty hands descended. The spanking began.
Aliera watched, knowing that the winner of the contest would soon be spanking her the same way. She noticed several different techniques: some hit slow and hard, some fast and light, some concentrated several strokes on one spot before moving to another, some seemed to strike at random following no pattern at all. Yelps, squeals and wails rose louder as twenty bottoms reddened. Legs kicked, hands beat on the ground. The sounds of determined slapping went on. The sand ran through the timer. Aliera began to suspect that ten minutes could seem like quite a long time.
Aliera wriggled on her cushioned seat. She had never been spanked, never felt an angry touch. As the King's eldest, and only, daughter she had been destined from birth to be offered to the Goddess, to become High Priestess. The winner of the contest would initiate her and become her consort. Darling Kevan, it had to be him. He'd talked about how she'd tingle...but the slaves in the arena seemed to be doing more than tingling. Bottoms were bright red now, they looked - more than tingly. Maybe even stinging a little. The slaves were making a fuss, but then peasants lacked the control of the higher orders. She would have more dignity. Of course.
After ten minutes the gong sounded again and the spanking ceased. The contestants lifted the slaves to their feet and then stood up, stretching and laughing. The slaves were made to bend and put their hands on the seats, red bottoms high. Aliera watched Kevan, soon she would be bent over like that, for him. She watched as he nudged the girls' feet wide apart, then she gasped as he adjusted his breeches and for the first time she saw - well, she knew men were different from women. Glancing along the row she saw twenty fine examples of manhood. Interesting variety in length and girth, she hadn't realised there were different sizes. Kevan's seemed a fine example. Few were larger than his, but - she gasped as she saw Goran approaching his spanking subject. He was - surely that couldn't be real, it was much too large to fit a woman's secret place. The slave seemed to agree, her shrill squeal echoed through the arena as he slowly thrust into her. Aliera grimaced, she almost felt sorry for the girl, even if she was a slave. Other squeals and moans were heard as each man entered his partner. They were all riding the girls now, this would be the moment when darling Kevan took her for the first time, made her a woman.
Moans and grunts echoed in the arena, most of the girls seemed to be moaning in pleasure rather than pain, how she longed to feel Kevan taking her like that. The crowd were silent (and many seemed preoccupied), long minutes passed, and passed... until each man had given a final groan and stepped back. Kevan, Goran and the blacksmith were the last to finish.
The High Priestess, on her carved silver ceremonial seat, was carried down the stairs to the arena. With her attendants she slowly walked along the row, inspecting the spanked bottoms. She nodded approvingly, then spoke to her attendants and returned to her seat to be carried back to her viewing position above the action. The attendants moved along the row speaking to the contestants. Seven of them stood and walked out of the arena, looking disappointed. Aliera sighed in relief, Kevan was still there. The blacksmith, the priests, most of the young lords, the miner, she checked along the row... Goran was still there too. A tiny shiver rippled down her spine, but she glanced at the High Priestess, seated nearby. Great-Aunt Tiarna knew, she'd make sure Kevan was the one, she had to.
Attendants brought refreshments to the men in the arena, as servants bustled around the Royal Enclosure with silver trays offering fine crystal glasses of cooled wine and sweet cordials. Aliera was impatient for the trials to continue, she wanted this all safely settled.
Soon there was a stir in the arena, and an answering cheer from the spectators. The crowd watched as more slaves were brought out, and the arena staff busied themselves preparing for the next round. The new batch of girls whimpered and clutched each others' hands for courage. The crowd was in a fine mood, this was prime entertainment, not seen for a generation. The king's first daughter was always Offered to the Goddess, but Aliera's father had no sisters, the current High Priestess was the king's aunt. A generation had missed the Offering ceremony, and Aliera's turn was eagerly awaited.
In the arena the contestants had finished their short rest break, and the next round was about to begin. The contestants took their new partners to a row of benches, bending the girls over them. Wrists and ankles were strapped down securely, then each contestant was handed a sturdy wooden paddle; from this distance they looked like toys. Great-Aunt Tiarna gave the signal, the gong sounded and the paddles bit down hard on the upturned buttocks. Aliera watched large red patches begin to glow on the slaves' skin. Kevan had told her how he'd sting her with the paddle. It seemed to be stinging now, shrill shrieks rose in the morning heat. Slave girls had no discipline, no sense of dignity, they made so much fuss and bother about things. Aliera watched the paddles fall across the helpless bottoms. She'd behave much better as darling Kevan stung her with that - rather large - paddle.
Aliera had been groomed from birth for her role, she must be pure and unblemished for the Offering. Not just a virgin, she had also never been spanked, barely disciplined in any way. She had been pampered and cherished, shaped for her destiny. She always knew it was coming but the Offering had seemed such a long time in the future. Her great-aunt had watched her grow and blossom. Long white-blonde hair, green eyes, body ripening into womanhood with full pink-tipped breasts and a pert, firm bottom. She was just turned eighteen, and Great-Aunt Tiarna had persuaded the king that Aliera was ready for the ceremony. The king issued commands, and suitable slave-girls were collected at the arena for the trials. Many were nervous, but it was the custom that all girls used in the trials would be given their freedom and a small dowry, so there was excitement and even eagerness mixed with their trepidation.
The morning sun was growing hotter, the bright red bottoms in the arena hotter still. This one was a count, not timed, so as each contestant reached one hundred they stopped. Goran was the last to finish, he spanked slowly, each stroke hard and carefully placed. Aliera could see the even crimson he had produced, he'd covered everywhere from the top of the crack to mid-thigh.
This time the slaves were untied and pushed to their knees, then those eager male members were unveiled once more as mouths opened obediently. Aliera watched the bobbing heads, well that didn't seem too bad. Probably. Maybe.
Once again Kevan, the blacksmith and Goran were the last to finish, the old miner lasting almost as long.
The High Priestess was carried down to the arena again, inspected the red bottoms, stroked them to check the heat. As she was carried back to her viewing position, the assistants sent five contestants to the exit gates. Nine left, thank the Goddess Kevan was still there. And the blacksmith, two townsmen, one young lord, two priests, the miner and Goran.
Servants offered sweet delicacies and cooling drinks to the men in the arena, as refreshment sellers moved among the watching crowd. Aliera waved her handmaidens away, she didn't think she could swallow anything right now. A special drink, some herbal mixture, was offered to the men in the arena, apparently men needed help and relaxation breaks for this kind of activity. Aliera just wished they'd hurry up and get it all over with.
The next slaves, a smaller group now, were quickly moved to the benches. The contestants, obviously told the plan beforehand, each placed a girl on her back on a bench, then lifted her feet and secured them to shackles near her shoulders. Aliera gasped, the position was so - so exposed. She was going to be shown like that, she blushed at the thought. Then servants brought out the next implements - thick leather straps riveted to wooden handles, allowing a good solid grip and a wide swing. The straps would fall on such an exposed area, this was worrying. Aliera strained to see, then sat back as she caught the amused glances of the servants around her.
The gong signalled the start, the straps lashed down, the slaves began to shriek and wail. This would be another count to one hundred, a long count for the slaves below. Of course she'd do better, but how could anyone maintain dignity like - that? An extra-shrill scream echoed whenever a strap found a particularly tender spot.
Aliera was fidgeting as some unwelcome thoughts began to surface. The slaves were rough peasants of course, but they were also much more accustomed to such discipline. She had spent her whole life being prepared for this. Every day she bathed in asses' milk, then was massaged by eunuchs until her skin was soft and smooth. Her clothes were whispering silks, she sat on soft cushions, she was the perfect offering. But if the slaves were so rough and crude, and the spanking still made them wail so loudly...and she was so soft and sensitive... Aliera was beginning to suspect that this might hurt more than the tingle, the teasing sting Kevan promised.
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