Give her what she wants

Sophia’s face is alive with a fire that astonishes you, the woman is insatiable but you are nearly spent. Somehow you need to find a way to slow down her demands on you. The coils of chains spilling from Lord Attrenotis’s bedside cabinet give you an idea.

“Stand here.” You tell her sharply pointing to the floor by the bed. With only the slightest hesitation she climbs off the bed and stands where you direct; her hands toy nervously with the damp gown that still hangs from her hips. Sophia’s brown hair, pulled from the painstaking arrangement of pins and combs during your repeated wild encounters now hangs in disarray across her face as she stares at her toes that still peak from the silver sandals that match her now ruined dress.

Climbing from the bed you circle her where she stands evaluating her nearly nude form as you move. Her eyes never leave the floor, but you are certain that she is acutely aware of where you are and that you are assessing her as circle her exposed form. Standing behind her so closely that the warmth of your breath feathers the tiny hairs behind her ear as you speak your words make her quiver.

“You like it when men look at you like this, don’t you?” Her head dips in the slightest of nods.

“This gown,” You continue, pulling the damp dress back up over her arms and breasts and fastening the tiny pearl button at the base of her neck with more than a small amount of regret. “It shows just how sexy you really are. Is that why you selected it.” Again Sophia’s head nods, and you can see the peaks of her hardening nipples clearly through the nearly translucent wet silk. “You wanted men to hunger for you, you sex-starved little tease.”

“Yes.” The single word was so soft you almost miss it. You spend a few more moments smoothing the wrinkles from the around her hips adjusting the ivory gown until once again it hugs her narrow waist and flows over the flare of her hips.

“You were hoping to parade through the feast halls wearing this sexy little number.” You run your finger gently teasing the swell of her full breasts where they strain the “V” of the neckline. “Halls filled with men watching you - desiring you.” Sophia moans as your hands cup her tits and growl throatily. “All those men aching to run their hands over you just like this.” You run your hands from the swell of her breasts, over her belly and then cupping the mound of her sex firmly pulling her ass until it grinds against your crotch.

“Yes!” Her voice is much loader this time.

“You’ll have men watching you soon.” You assure her “Not the elite of the city, but my soldiers will appreciate what they see, I promise you.” Sophia shudders in your arms and she tries to turn her face to yours but you just laugh at her and scoop up the chains that lie at her feet. Sophia suddenly stills like a doe hearing a twig snap in the forest. When the iron manacle snaps shut around her slender wrist a tremor breaks this stillness; when the matching band clasps around her other wrist she shudders again causing the finely wrought links of chain to clink against the marble floor.

These chains are not the rough wrought iron that slaves usually wear. Instead of the crude locks or tightened nuts the locking mechanism on the manacles uses a spring latch that snaps shut with a soft click, and each identical link of the chain is polished and oiled until it gleams in the evening light. Each chain is as long as you, and you pick up the loose ends that hang from her wrists.

“Follow me.” You tell her leading her by the chains to the balcony on the far side of the suite.

“Wait,” You can feel the pull of the chain as she slows. “I don’t know if I can do this after all.”

“You don’t get to choose.” A firm tug on her wrists gets her moving again and onto the balcony overlooking the gardens. The overhang looks down on the same reflecting pool where you first saw Sophia and her daughter and in the twilight you can see several of your men enjoying the very same benches the family had occupied, of course your men were far less modest than the family had been.

One of the hoplites has an olive skinned **** in her twenties rocking on his lap and moaning in obvious pleasure. Petros sits on the other seat with a pretty young **** between his knees pleasing him with her mouth and perhaps most amusing of all was the sight of your grizzled sergeant, naked except for a blindfold around his head in the knee deep water, clumsily reaching for two naked women who skip c under his outstretched arms. Sophia gasps when she recognizes one of the two nymphs playfully splashing the veteran warrior as one of her two house guests.

Climbing onto the balcony railing, you fasten the chains from Sophia’s wrists to the sturdy hooks conveniently placed high overhead. After securing the chains you hop down to join your captive admiring the way she is now displayed for all to see as soon as one of them happens to look up. Her arms are stretched high and to the sides pulling her body foward until her belly presses against the railing.

“Please,” She pleads.