Giulia stood straight clad only in a brief tunic. Leather manacles and a strap at her elbows held her arms cruelly behind. The bondage pushed out her breasts allowing her nipples to show through the light fabric. Her legs and feet were bare. She fought to keep her head high, a brave statement of her defiance.

She knew the bondage was intended to humiliate ... and intimidate. She had no intention of allowing herself to succumb to either.

The doge stared at her for a long time his eyes lingering on the most exciting parts of her body. She could see the color rising in his face, the tensing of muscles, the narrowing of eye slits. She had that effect on men even the high and mighty. She could usually use it to her advantage but not now.

"Usually slaves are not so bold in my presence," he said quietly, toying with her.

There was a hint of glee in his voice and of meanness. Like many powerful men of the day, he had a reputation for extreme cruelty. Unlike others though, his meanness often had no purpose other than his own pleasure.

Giulia turned her head to the side dismissively. It was a haughty, submissive gesture like a high-born woman would make with a servant.

"I am not your slave, Arturo," she said with quiet assurance. "A thief cannot claim legitimate ownership of those things he has stolen in the dark of night. War and tribute create slaves not theft."

A moment of anger flashed in his eyes then disappeared with a short laugh.

"You are very clever signorina and very dangerous. Your beauty makes men stupid, stupid enough to do rash things, rash things that go against their purpose. It would be stupid of me, for example, under the circumstances to get angry and lash out. I have larger plans for you. I must admit though, it is a powerful weapon, one that I've underestimated in our past dealings."

He paused enjoying her silence.

"You see, things are different now, Giulia. I am no longer tethered by ordinary rules and laws. Nor am I constrained by public opinion. The political machinations forced on me as the doge of Venice are not necessary here in Constantinople. It is quite liberating."

She continued to meet his gaze without fear.

"You are a small man, Arturo; small in stature, in vision, in courage ... even your penis is unusually small. Like a rat, you stole power in Venice then used that power to further your selfish ambition. You manipulated the council; you hid in the shadows wheedling and conspiring." She paused to add emphasis to her next statement. "The heights you aspire to are not for petty men like you, they are for heroes..."

The doge nodded as if impressed by her appraisal.

"Heroes ... like your duke?" he asked.

"At least his penis is of normal size."

His face went red and a white froth appeared at the corners of his mouth. His hand gripped the chair arm like a vice.

"You should exercise better judgment in the things you say, Giulia."

She didn't answer, just smiled. She had proved her point. The doge was not as unassailable as he thought. He released his death-grip on the chair's arm and forced himself to calm.

"As I said, you are dangerous. I must learn to master my emotions around you. I intend to enjoy every painful moment we spend together and of course those we spend with your ... hero. Perhaps after a few months of pain you will change your opinion of him and me. Pain can do many wondrous things to people, things we would consider impossible."

He was calmer now, back in charge.

"I am somewhat of an expert on this subject, a master of the art of pain you might say. I've had a lot of practice. Surprisingly, it is quite an intricate subject. The key is to find the flaw in the prisoner, the invisible fault line that exists in even the hardest stone. Once you have it, you must tap gently, testing each point of impact until you find the point of smooth cleavage. This is when the real torture begins."

He seemed to be talking to himself, off in another world. Giulia's smile faded -- he was mad, driven insane by the long-term effects of power and ego.

"But enough of my theories, you and the duke will find out soon enough from personal experience I am a master of this craft. I intend to create a hell on earth for both of you. Have patience, it will be on you soon enough."

Giulia made another dismissive gesture with her head but inside she was afraid. Such threats from a man like Leandero should not be taken lightly. He ignored her insulting movement satisfied now they were born of fear.

"First though," he added slowly, "we must attend to your troubling insubordination. I cannot have my ... my 'guests' treating me in such a rude manner. It is ... inappropriate, bad for the morale of my men, the orderly operation of my new house."

He flicked his fingers and two men stepped from the shadows. One stood at her side holding her arm, the other tied an overhead rope onto her manacles. She struggled to pull away but the man holding her arm grabbed her long hair with his free hand. With a single tug his partner pulled her arms up behind until they were parallel with the floor. The second man head back so that it was facing forward towards the doge.

Spikes of pain shot through her shoulders forcing her onto toes. The man behind lifted her tunic to her waist and tied it in a knot. Her genitalia and her bare ass were fully exposed. The doge watched her labia swell and redden with the sudden submission.

"I have always admired your body, Giulia," the doge said, "from afar. Now that it is uncovered, I can see I was right. Your ass has an exquisite lift to it, a round hardness that screams to be caressed. And your mound beckons in its perfection!"

She stared at him, teeth bared. The pain was now in her feet and legs as she fought the torture. The doge watched her struggle for several minutes. Finally, she needed to lower and raise her feet, a response that caused an exciting dimple to appear in her ass cheek.

"Exquisite...," he whispered sincerely.

He flicked his fingers again. The man behind walked away then came back with a black paddle perhaps three feet in length. One end was thick and rigid the other end moved with a menacing suppleness like the boughs of a tall tree.

"I had this paddle made from crocodile hide. I'm told that its pain is quite unique ... like a whip but over a much larger area of skin. Perhaps I can have your opinion when we're done...?"

He flicked his fingers again and the paddle slapped her bare skin with a gentle whomp. It was almost playful at first, but as the blood rushed to area the slapping became a painful tidal wave of excruciating pain. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from screaming.

The doge held up his hand then spoke with a kind of breathless anticipation.

"Now that you are warmed up, we can begin. We will start off slowly with twenty strokes. You can stop it at any time with the word 'master.' I know it will be hard for you to submit even in this small way, but we must begin somewhere. Believe me, most women beg to suck my ... small cock after just a few strokes. By the time we get to twenty, it will feel as if your ass and legs are on fire."

"You ... you will never be ... my master," she hissed.

He nodded agreeably and gestured with his hand. The crocodile struck again. Giulia was screaming after five strokes; by ten strokes her body was shuddering in agony as each new wave of pain bounced around inside; by the fifteenth stroke her brain was shorting out causing violent and prolonged convulsions. The second man supported her with one hand and stimulated her clitoris with the other.

The agony and the orgasms mixed seamlessly; she couldn't tell one from the other. By the twentieth stroke she was muttering incoherent words in a language all her own.

Reluctantly, Leandero gave the signal to stop and release her from the strappado -- any further pain and her mind would disconnect from her body, perhaps permanently. He watched them carry her to her cell with a mixture of disappointment and determination.

She had never once said the word 'master.'

 

***

 

Moorish pirates ravaged the Mediterranean after the Battle of Doriak.

The corsairs of Caliph Muhammad bin Arsian sank ships and destroyed seaside towns with savage impunity. Entire coastlines were besieged and plundered, sometime for months. Terrified, people moved inland to the mountains where thousands died of exposure and starvation.

Although Venice was not sacked -- thanks to the Hun army of King Sirius -- the city's fleet was powerless to stop the carnage elsewhere. The Battle of Doriak had decimated the Venetians, more importantly it had sapped their will to fight. The thin veneer of Venetian invincibility had been stripped away, replaced by the stronger idea that the Moors were now unbeatable.

The pirates took full advantage of the paralyzing fear, enslaving thousands and selling them in the Eastern markets. The caliph's share of the profits was used to buy more ships and hire more sailors which lead to an increase in the number of slaves taken. It was a vicious cycle of death and depravity. European princes suddenly understood the existential danger they faced -- the caliph was not going to stop until all of Europe was in his bloody hands.

There were two reasons for his unimaginable victories -- ships and the savage nature of the Moors. He had more than 5,000 vessels at his command. Together they were capable of transporting half-a-million fighters fifty miles a day. This allowed his main force to deploy in half the time as any other military force in the world. It was a true marine strike-force, capable of flanking and defeating even the strongest Mediterranean army. After a few such victories no army would challenge the Moors near the coast.

The men these ships carried were also different. They were the desert fighters of North Africa -- tough, desperate, half-savage with no knowledge of or care for civilized behavior. They fought with the intensity of wild animals and had little regard for human life even their own. The caliph turned them to his purpose with a combination of religious mysticism and mind-numbing terror.

These facts were known to everyone. What was not so evident was how the caliph was able to maintain control of the Moorish rabble in the face of often staggering losses.

The answer was exotics -- beautiful slave girls destined for sexual servitude. The profits they earned allowed him to find and hire more and more men. Unlike ordinary slaves, exotics occupied little space on the small corsairs and brought high prices in Asia Minor. The demand for light skinned, light haired beauties was insatiable.

Another more subtle effect helping the Moors was Europe's fortress mentality. Ordinary people hunkered down, moving back into their walled cities, their castles, their caves. Instead of alliances they sought the protection of stone walls. Isolation and fear, the earmarks of the Dark Ages, were back in vogue threatening to end the nascent enlightenment.

To his credit, the pope tried to fight back by calling for another crusader. His appeal fell on deaf ears. This wasn't a war to win a far off city or kingdom, this was about personal danger. The Moors were everywhere at once. People thought of them as a disease rather than a mortal enemy. Kings and knights and armies were no use against a scourge like the pirates.

The one leader who was somewhat effective against them was the Black Knight, Duke Titus I of Crikvenica. He had thwarted the savages twice -- engineering the Hun's stand in the Dalmatians and leading the Venetian attack on Djinni. He had also shamed the caliph by stealing his most precious possessions, his personal exotics.

But Duke Titus along with his slave mistress Giulia was now the prisoner of the disgraced doge of Venice, Arturo Leandero. The doge had taken them prisoner during a failed assassination attempt and fled with them to Constantinople. Williamson, the duke's friend, had witnessed their capture but had been unable to help.

With unlimited resource and all of his enemies hunkered down, running, or imprisoned, there wasn't anyone to stop the caliph. Europe was his.