Author's note: I hope my readers don't find this part of the chapter offensive or gratuitous. It is intended to make for very uncomfortable reading, and to establish the cruelty of Samsu's character against the strength of Eliana's. It's just a first draft and I would, of course, be interested to hear your views in the comments - whether you feel it's too much, or serves its purpose.

I know the situation looks bleak, but things will start to look up for Eliana from the next chapter, promise! :-)

***

‘Kneel,’ he said. He did not need to raise his voice.

She knelt, back upright, hands folded in her lap. A sharp kick connected with her ribs, driving the air out of her.

‘Properly!’ he barked.

She touched her forehead to the ground. His boot had left a smear of dust on her silk, and a bruise on the delicate skin of her ribs.

There was a sneer in his voice as he said ‘look at you, with your face painted like a slut. So you thought to flirt your way out of this? Imagined that you could wriggle away with some pretty words and whore’s tricks?’ he did not require an answer. He gave a harsh laugh, ‘believe me, girl, I have lain with more whores than you’ve had birthdays. I know all their tricks. And so shall you, before I’m finished.’

Eliana’s stomach clenched, all hope of winning gentler treatment with acquiescence gone.

‘You will learn to obey whatever command I give, without question or hesitation.’ He thrust his dusty boot under her face. ‘Lick it clean,’ he  ordered.

She looked at the boot with revulsion, wondering how many proud spirits Samsu had trampled beneath it. She hesitated a moment too long – he brought the foot up to collide with her chin, sending her sprawling backwards. He placed the boot heavily on her chest, shouting, ‘are you deaf, girl? Lick it!’

His voice rang from every surface, every syllable loud and menacing, sending a knife of fear through her artificial calm and into her gut.

Trembling and struggling to draw breath under the crushing weight of his boot, she stuck out her tongue and gave a tentative lick, repressing the urge to gag.

He lifted his foot off her and placed it on the floor, allowing her to pull herself back into her bow and continue the task. Her jaw ached from his kick to her chin, and the dust of the street dried up her saliva, making each stroke more difficult than the last. She closed her eyes and tried to forget where she was – she thought of Kisha, wished for her sister’s arms around her.

By the time she finished, her mouth was arid as the desert and her tongue felt coated in wool.

Finally satisfied, he withdrew his foot. ‘Good,’ he nodded. ‘Now, remove your dress.’

Her cheeks burned with shame and she felt a knot of tears gather at the base of her throat. As if it were not bad enough to undress before Samsu, she felt the interested gazes of the four guards boring into her. She swallowed hard and slid off the shoulder straps, allowing the silk to fall to the floor, standing tall and proud in nothing but her unblemished skin, her eyes as dry as her mouth.

Samsu’s eyes drank her in. ‘Now, prostrate yourself on the floor... no, not the rug, you insolent girl – it’s too good for the likes of you. On the tiles.’

Shivering as her bare skin came into contact with the cold tiles, she lay face down, arms outstretched. She saw his shadow as he bent over her, shuddered as he ran calloused hands down the length of her body – fingertips grazing the edges of her nipples, tracing the dip of her waist, trailing the crack of her buttocks and into the crease between her thighs, all the way down to her feet.

He exhaled deeply. She held her breath.

‘Up.’

She pulled herself back to her knees, forehead still touching the floor, feeling sick with vulnerability and dizzy with the effort of hiding it.

He chuckled, ‘you’re getting the hang of this. Now,’ he grabbed her bruised chin, directing her gaze to the Brute, ‘suck his cock.’

Her head snapped up of its own accord as she looked at him in horror.

‘I can’t!’ the dismayed words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She threw herself back to the ground. ‘I’m sorry!’ she cried.

The words were barely spoken before a whip cracked across her buttocks sharp as a lightning bolt, splitting the skin so that blood trickled down her thighs. She almost choked on the cry of pain.

He seized her by the hair and pulled her up, ‘you can, and you will! Who are you to tell me “I can’t”? To disobey me? You will wrap those pretty lips around his fat cock, or I will cut them off!’

With a mighty shove, he sent her stumbling towards the Brute, every step sending a fresh knife of pain through her injured behind. She fell to her knees in front of him.

He hoisted his tunic up to the waist to expose himself.

Eliana stared in horror – she had never seen male parts before, except on sheep and dogs. He was already erect; large, glistening, purplish with swollen veins. He gave a grunt of impatience, dug his fingers into her hair and pulled her mouth forcefully down onto it, thrusting in and out so deep that she thought she would choke or suffocate.

Her first instinct was to bite, but she stayed her jaw through strength of will – there was no doubt in her mind that she would pay for that transgression with her teeth. For a split second, it almost felt as though it would be worth it to humble this monster and bite his manhood clean off for this humiliation; then her mind filled with images of the atrocities he had committed unprovoked during the conquest. She could expect no quick and easy death if she acted impulsively.

She pulled back against his hand, trying to resist the thrust. Some of her hair came away in his grip.

He broke his rhythm, pulled her off him for a brief, blessed second, before slapping her hard across the face and continuing harder than before.

The gagging sound she made only spurred him on. He moved faster and faster, until, with a grunt and a shudder, his seed came spilling down her throat. She fought and tried to pull away, but he held her firmly in place; she had no choice but to swallow or drown.

As soon as he let her go, she fell to her hands and knees and the warm, salty liquid came flooding back up. She heaved and retched until her stomach had expelled every drop, then collapsed shivering to the floor.

She heard Samsu’s voice as if from a distance, amusement plain in his tone. ‘How did she do?’

‘Well enough,’ muttered the Brute, straightening his tunic, ‘for a novice. She can be taught.’

‘Very well, go to her father tomorrow and pay him whatever you think she is worth. She will live here at the palace – a maid to my concubine by day, and a whore to me by night. That is what you wanted, isn’t it, Eliana? To be with your beloved sister again?’

She could not have summoned the strength to answer even if he had demanded it.

‘Perhaps,’ Samsu added, ‘if you ever learn humility and obedience, you could be something more than just the whore to the Prince of Babylon. Once we have broken that unfortunate pride and spirit.’

She curled tighter in the foetal position, praying for an end to it, aching all over from the assault and longing for nothing so much as a bed behind a sturdy door.

He continued, ‘to speed up the process, my officers may borrow you for... training, whenever they please; but your virginity will be kept for me alone.’ His voice hardened, ‘I will take it when you have nothing else to give.’

Turning away, he made a dismissive gesture with his hand. ‘Lesson one is at an end. I trust you learned something. Ashan, take her to the concubine’s apartments.’

One of the officers, who had not moved an inch throughout the whole show, nodded sharply and strode to where Eliana lay.

‘Get up!’ he murmured.

She tried to pull herself to her feet, but her body was in shock and her legs would not support her weight. After three attempts, she gave up and folded back to the ground.

Ashan bent and scooped her up, not ungently, and carried her from the room towards the western quarter of the palace. She opened her eyes and looked up at him through a haze of pain and misery, but she could not focus, so closed them again.

‘Give him what he wants,’ the soldier whispered. ‘Don’t resist him, it will all go easier for you.’

The kindness in his tone was more than she could bear; silent tears began flowing down her face.

He deposited her on her feet before a wooden door, half holding her up, half propping her against the wall as he knocked softly.

After a moment, the door swung inwards to reveal Mari, her face pale and hair dishevelled, just roused from sleep.

‘Ashan?’ she whispered.

He pressed a finger to his lips and gestured towards Eliana. Mari barely stifled a gasp of horror, taking Eliana’s weight and staggering into the room with her.

Ashan pulled the door quietly closed on the women and stalked back to his post at Samsu’s side.