RacingRodent
Consul
*cough* *cough* Argh there are too many cobwebs, hang on let me get my broom
Right better. Come dear reader and take a seat for we at long overdue last return to our tale of Messalios. Whom if you recall had been taken captive by Prince Paris after sampling the more exotic delights of Troy.
Anyway if you are caught up ahem, I shall resume:
So dear listener, spare a thought now for our heroine seizedby a Princes most reprehensible in his manners. Consider her thus, suspended, up ended and quite without a stitch of cloth to hide her shapely form from prying eyes. Left alone in the dim and dismal dungeon, barely lit by whickering candles. Listening to the sound of rodents scurrying across the gloom shrouded floor and gnawing on the broken things they find there.
Did she yearn for Menelaus to emerge victorious over Paris and thus avenge both the insult done to that King’s name and Messalios’s own? Did she rather prefer that Paris should return triumphant to put a quick and final, end to her ordeal? Did she even dare hope for rescue?
Messalios never spoke of the words that passed inside her head. Still soon enough she heard raised voices.
“I really think you should go back and fight darling dearest,” Helen implored.
“Fight that muscle bound moron? Nay, it was all a trick, a trap, a deception,” Screeched Paris.
“I am really not sure Menelaus is bright enough to come upwith much in the way of tricks my dearest,” Helen replied in a musing tone.
“Then it was Odysseus or Achilles or Agamemnon or their spy,the one we have in this dungeon, they are the ones behind the vile and vicious attempt at assassination upon my royal person,” Paris insisted.
“Well darling I am not sure there is much we can do about tha…” Helen began.
“Of course there is,” Paris proclaimed, “We shall drag the harlot out into the light of day, bind her to a wooden horse and parade through the streets to the walls, where I shall bind her to a wooden cross piece and suspend her to wither and die in front of the foul Greeks and all their stinking army!”
“I am not sure…” Helen started to suggest coyly.
“Well I am,” Paris roared, “We shall be rid of the heathen harlot, servants, attend to me, I want a wooden horse constructed at once, it should look a worthy ride for a princess and have a saddle that is a worthy ride for a whore!”
If these words had been enough to chill Messalios in her dungeon cell worse awaited her come the morning. When the guards came for her she tried to fight back but she was stiff and sore and dizzy from having been upside down all night. They laughed as they caught her flailing fist and shoved her to the floor, binding her hand and foot and then slinging the loops over a spear shaft so she hung in helpless fury between two of them.
“Ha ha, just like an animal taken on the hunt,” Paris laughed when he saw Messalios, “Well you claim to be a Princess of Amazons, see your stead awaits.” He gestured and Messalios looked over to see a crude wooden horse on wheels and rising from its back a shaft with a distinctly priapic air.
“You are going to enjoy the ride of your life, you cowardly bitch,” Paris sneered.
“Cowardly, I am not the one who ran away from a girl,”Messalios replied, “In fact you run away rather often, weren’t you supposed to fight Menelaus or was it a track event?”
“Impale the bitch,” Paris snarled as someone sniggered, “And tie her down well and bring whips, I am going to flog her through the whole of Troy!”
Right better. Come dear reader and take a seat for we at long overdue last return to our tale of Messalios. Whom if you recall had been taken captive by Prince Paris after sampling the more exotic delights of Troy.
Anyway if you are caught up ahem, I shall resume:
So dear listener, spare a thought now for our heroine seizedby a Princes most reprehensible in his manners. Consider her thus, suspended, up ended and quite without a stitch of cloth to hide her shapely form from prying eyes. Left alone in the dim and dismal dungeon, barely lit by whickering candles. Listening to the sound of rodents scurrying across the gloom shrouded floor and gnawing on the broken things they find there.
Did she yearn for Menelaus to emerge victorious over Paris and thus avenge both the insult done to that King’s name and Messalios’s own? Did she rather prefer that Paris should return triumphant to put a quick and final, end to her ordeal? Did she even dare hope for rescue?
Messalios never spoke of the words that passed inside her head. Still soon enough she heard raised voices.
“I really think you should go back and fight darling dearest,” Helen implored.
“Fight that muscle bound moron? Nay, it was all a trick, a trap, a deception,” Screeched Paris.
“I am really not sure Menelaus is bright enough to come upwith much in the way of tricks my dearest,” Helen replied in a musing tone.
“Then it was Odysseus or Achilles or Agamemnon or their spy,the one we have in this dungeon, they are the ones behind the vile and vicious attempt at assassination upon my royal person,” Paris insisted.
“Well darling I am not sure there is much we can do about tha…” Helen began.
“Of course there is,” Paris proclaimed, “We shall drag the harlot out into the light of day, bind her to a wooden horse and parade through the streets to the walls, where I shall bind her to a wooden cross piece and suspend her to wither and die in front of the foul Greeks and all their stinking army!”
“I am not sure…” Helen started to suggest coyly.
“Well I am,” Paris roared, “We shall be rid of the heathen harlot, servants, attend to me, I want a wooden horse constructed at once, it should look a worthy ride for a princess and have a saddle that is a worthy ride for a whore!”
If these words had been enough to chill Messalios in her dungeon cell worse awaited her come the morning. When the guards came for her she tried to fight back but she was stiff and sore and dizzy from having been upside down all night. They laughed as they caught her flailing fist and shoved her to the floor, binding her hand and foot and then slinging the loops over a spear shaft so she hung in helpless fury between two of them.
“Ha ha, just like an animal taken on the hunt,” Paris laughed when he saw Messalios, “Well you claim to be a Princess of Amazons, see your stead awaits.” He gestured and Messalios looked over to see a crude wooden horse on wheels and rising from its back a shaft with a distinctly priapic air.
“You are going to enjoy the ride of your life, you cowardly bitch,” Paris sneered.
“Cowardly, I am not the one who ran away from a girl,”Messalios replied, “In fact you run away rather often, weren’t you supposed to fight Menelaus or was it a track event?”
“Impale the bitch,” Paris snarled as someone sniggered, “And tie her down well and bring whips, I am going to flog her through the whole of Troy!”
To, of course, be continued dear readers
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