Part Three

For the rest of the week, Ciara lived at the mercy of Hadrian. She would be called to his room often, sometimes several times a day. She got used to the sight of him waiting for her, sitting in a chair by the large table or out on the balcony.

But what surprised her was his reasoning. He didn’t always just want her there for her body, though there was plenty of that. He would have her kneel before him while he examined her, running his fingers across her smooth, pale skin or stroking her hair. He enjoyed the sight of her chest swaying as he took her from behind, and several more times Ciara found herself stretched out over the balcony.

Hadrian enjoyed using her and humiliating her. It was never insults. He considered himself too sophisticated for that. Instead, he would fuck her over the balcony, letting her cries of pleasure and shame echo out. As she came, he would remind her that everyone was hearing the sound of her climax, that everyone knew she belonged to him now and forever.

It was horrible, but what was even worse was the fact that she had so quickly gotten used to the routine. Every day, she would be called around the same time and each day she would be ready. As Onyx had told her it would, it threatened to become part of her life, and she was scared by just how readily she seemed to be accepting it.

Her ass was sore from Hadrian’s usage, throbbing constantly after each visit. Her face would be red with humiliation, and she would feel his seed running down her legs. Hadrian’s greater age and his mastery over her made her feel helpless, and it was almost tempting to give in and accept that this was her life, just like Onyx had.

But Ciera refused, holding onto herself and her identity just like how she refused to be ‘’Sunset’’ no matter how Hadrian called her by that name.

But almost as often as he wanted her body, Hadrian also seemed to be interested in her mind. She’d stand with her hands behind her back as he paced. He’d ask her questions, mostly about things she knew. The Keltoi and the ever-shifting web of alliances and grudges that connected the tribes.

At first, Ciara thought he was pumping her for military information. That he intended a war. But she soon realised this wasn’t the case. The information he asked of her would not be impossible to get other ways. There were far more reliable methods than a single Keltoi woman who had never been much interested in those things anyway.

No, it was not the truth he was interested in. It was how she answered. How she defended her points, what she said and how she said it was far more important to him than whether she was right or not.

Gradually, simple topics became more complex. Hadrian’s focus remained on the politics of the tribes, but Ciara gradually began to see that it was not the tribes that interested him at all.

It was politics. Hadrian lived for it. Speaking to him on the subject was enough to see his eyes light up and his body become more animated. To many, politics was a murky world of half-truths and careful deception. To Hadrian, it was his home and a realm to which he took naturally and completely. He adored talking at length about discourse, about political structure and about the measure of ideals over reality and how one was **** to marry the two if they wished to become a leader of men

After such meetings, Ciara would often speak to Onyx, who had quickly become her friend even if Ciara found her acceptance of her life as a **** frustrating and confusing.

“Why does he speak to me about such things?” Ciara asked one day, “I don’t understand his goal!”

“Perhaps he is testing you,” The dark-haired Rovanii woman suggested. “You’re his bed-****, after all.”

“You mean his whore,” Ciara’s face was dark, but Onyx simply shook her head.

“As usual, you’re not seeing the big picture. A bed-**** is different from a sex ****. A bed-**** is more formal, you see. It’s not just an arrangement like the other thing. There are expectations. It could be that he is trying to see if you can live up to them.”

“He’s testing me?” Ciara felt like laughing. “After everything that’s already happened, now he decides to test me?”

“Your beauty caught his eye,” Onyx said. “But he wants to know if your mind can match it.”

“Well, what do you suggest I do?”

“Not let him down?”

But that was easier said than done. Ciara was not unintelligent, but she had not been raised to politics. Within the Keltoi, politics was often the domain of the men. Geat warriors, chiefs, and nobles all would have been experts on it, she was sure. But she had never numbered herself among them. Now, however, she was **** to scramble, to defend her points in debates where Hadrian seemed to casually be able to rip her arguments to shreds. He had a smooth tongue and could turn even a losing argument into a honeyed speech of such finery that you would forget what you had even been saying to him. He could twist words like a spider, weaving a web of deception and not-lies that would leave your head spinning and your words weak. h

During those days, Ciara’s head spun. She felt like a child called to task by a teacher. Even if she hated the man, she was **** to admit that he was good at what he did. Compared to him, all of her efforts were like the clumsy flailing of a drowning woman.

After several more days of these strange meetings, Hadrian sent for Ciara at an unusual time. She had by then become more accustomed to his schedule. Hadrian would work for most of the morning, penning letters to his various contacts, informants and students. People would write to him for advice or aid. He gave out loans to those he expected to be able to pay him back and even dispensed carefully selected gifts to even more carefully selected recipients. Usually, it would be afternoon by the time he was finished doing all of the above.

This time, he called for her in the morning. Ciara was not sure what to expect but attended him as she was expected to. Naked but for her collar, in which there now glinted a bright gemstone. Although she had been here for more than a week now, walking through the corridors still made her shiver. The urge to cover herself was never far away, and she felt every glance and every hungry look like a flash of heat against her skin.

Ah, Sunset,” Hadrian said when she arrived. “It is good to see you. You are as delightful as ever.”

Ciara said nothing, falling to one knee as she had been taught. Her head was tilted towards the tiled floor and she could hear him walking toward her. Her pulse raced. She hated not being able to see what was happening, but it was not proper for a **** to look her master in the eye without invitation. To do so would invoke punishment.

Once he was happy with her show of submission, Hadrian gestured to her.

“Rise. Of course, you may rise. You are no use to me bobbing up and down on the floor!”

But his eyes showed his delight in her unspoken obedience, just as they followed the curve of her body and enjoyed the sight of her pale skin. Lust was obvious in his stance, desire in his face. It would not have been the first time he called her here simply to enjoy her body during a break between tasks.

“You summoned me, master?”

Master.

That word was like a whip against her soul, but she **** down the indignation as best she could. presented the image of the perfect little ****. Just as she was expected to.

“Yes, and doubtless you are curious why I did,” He said. “There is an event I wish for you to attend at my side.”

“An event?” She knew she was repeating what he had said, but it still struck her as surprising. So far, she had not been allowed to leave the villa. Was he going to show her off?

“Indeed,” Hadrian said. “You are not the only one who will be attending. The whole house will be there. All of my staff. A man is coming to visit us who has won me much honour. His name is Avanicus. Have you ever heard of him?”

“No, my lord,” Ciara said. “I am not from Celentium.”

“Ah, of course. You are a barbarian. I had forgotten.”

He hadn’t, but she didn’t quite know what game he was playing at yet to pretend otherwise.

“Avanicus is a ****,” Hadrian went on. “Much like you. And much like you, he is of a higher class than most slaves. He is a gladiator, and he has fought in my name for ten years. For ten years, Sunset, he has known wounds and broken bones. He has been knocked down, struck with disease, scarred and beaten. Yet never has he once yielded and never has he lost. Such men are rare beyond counting.

“I have invited him here, to celebrate his latest victory. There will be a reception soon and after that a party. Influential guests will be coming. It will be a good time to show you off.”

Show me off? Just like some prize mare.

She didn’t say it, of course, but she was thinking it. Hadrian was lost in his own thoughts, and she suspected he wasn’t even really talking for her benefit so much as for his own.

“We shall greet Avanicus together,” he went on. “And then I will award him. Just as tradition demands.”

He rubbed his hands together as he spoke, there was a spark of something in his eyes. Excitement! Hadrian was scheming. it filled him with glee like a small child with a new toy. If things had been otherwise, the sight may have been appealing. His face was filled with energy and life. But Ciara reminded herself that he was not playing with toys - he was playing with people.

He shook his head, clearly focusing with a bit of effort back on the present.

“Before that, you will need to be properly attired, of course.”

She was to wear a collection of chains and cuffs. Like the decorative chains, she had worn on her first night with Hadrian by the balcony. Hadrian liked to use chains in his aesthetics. At least when it came to slaves. She suspected it was his way of stamping out independence. A psychological reminder of your place.

Or maybe he just liked the look. Either way, Hadrian’s use of chains was often more for the sake of appearance than restraint. In this case, he had secured a pair of golden bands which hugged her skin tightly. Each one had a series of holes through which thin, silver chains could be threaded and locked.

The second pair of cuffs were snapped closed around her ankles. The chains were then threaded from one set to another, hugging her body closely as Hadrian drew them tight. He was careful not to obstruct her movement - the point was not to hinder her so much as to enhance her humiliation and the sense that she was owned by someone else. As he closed the cuffs, he ran his fingers over her skin, enjoying the smoothness of her flesh. The lust and desire was still there, pulsing like a star in his eyes.

But there was something more as well. An eagerness for the day ahead that she had never seen in him. An energy which outweighed even his lust for her body.

“Not today, I am afraid,” he said. “Not yet, anyway. Duty sometimes must come before pleasure.”

She shook her head slightly, knowing that it was another lie. Hadrian’s idea of pleasure included whatever he had planned for today. It made her shiver with concern. Was he playing some sort of game?

He lingered over her body for a few more moments before turning away. Ciara breathed a sigh of relief, but he soon returned holding a leash of knotted leather. He connected it to her collar, tugging on it a few times to make sure it was solid.

Then he stood back to admire her.

“Sunset, you are quite a sight,” he said. “What would a man give to own you?”

He took hold of the lead and **** her to follow after him at a trot. He was an older man, but his body was in good shape and he moved swiftly. Ciara found herself hurrying to keep up. As always, humiliation washed over her. People in the corridor turned to look as she passed. Word had gotten around that she was Hadrian’s bed-****, and that he was such a traditionalist that even she was naked.

Onyx had explained to her that some masters preferred their bed-slaves clothed. That way, the sight of their naked bodies belonged to them alone. But Hadrian wanted to flaunt what he had. Ciara’s nudity was part of his vision of how things should be.

After all, how could others know of his wealth if he concealed it?

She hated it. She hated being paraded through the villa, hated how people would turn and look at her. How her skin would feel hot, and how Hadrian would sometimes allow particularly favoured servants to grope her as a reward. Nothing too serious, she was his and his alone. But Hadrian well knew that the forbidden and the exotic had a great fascination. To the Rovanii who worked the villa, Ciara was both of those things.

Her chains rattled, but for once, she was not the centre of attention. Something else had come up, drawing the focus away from her naked body.

Hadrian took her to the inner garden. A large section of the house that was open to the sky, where trees and plants were cultivated. There were no flowers. Hadrian did not have a great liking for flowers. But there were trees and bushes, a small pond in which golden-scaled fish lazily swam.

Most of the household had been assembled here. They were standing in rows according to their rank. Manual slaves like Cicandius were present, but so were house slaves like Onyx. Ciara spotted her friend kneeling in the front rank. Beyond them, there were freemen - those who served, but were not slaves - and even the household guard were in attendance. Hadrian took his place near the front, Ciara moving in his wake.

There was a low hum and buzz of excitement. Everyone was waiting, but no one seemed to know exactly what for. A servant came forth, presenting Hadrian with a wooden sword. He took it with a strange reverence, holding the thing as though it were the most valuable treasure in the world.

She wished she could go to Onyx and ask her what it meant, but Onyx was far away, and Ciara was not allowed to leave Hadrian’s side.

Gradually, the tension built. Most of the crowd did not know what they were there for, but everyone could tell that it was important or else Hadrian would not have gathered them all. Rumours flew, and people turned to speak. A sort of hushed business filled the garden. Hadrian stood in the centre of it all, enjoying the energy that he had created.

At last, the doors on the far side of the garden were opened, and a servant came forth guiding a man. This, without doubt, was the gladiator. Avanicus. Ciara had never seen a gladiator before, but he was impossible to mistake.

Avanicus looked like he might once have been handsome. He had a square jaw and a powerful chin. His shoulders were broad and strong, and his hair was golden like honey. But years as a gladiator had robbed him of his looks. His face was scarred; half of an ear had been torn away. A livid pale line traced its way across his right eye. His nose was deformed as if it had been broken repeatedly or reset badly. Possibly both. One of his cheeks was taken up by a deep circular mark which looked to have once been a serious wound.

Here and there, there was a hint of his prior beauty - his eyes sparkled, his skin was fair. His bone structure was fine - but he was far too scarred to be considered homely now.

And yet, despite his appearance, he walked with a confident step. There was a sort of grace to him that Ciara had only before seen in her tribe’s greatest warriors. He was a man who knew his power. He did not bow or bend under the weight of his haggard appearance but accepted it as part of himself. There was no regret or hesitation about him at all.

Hadrian waited, holding her leash as the gladiator approached. Avanicus had a proud face. The collar he wore was silver like Ciara’s, but he bore it as if it were no shame at all. Upon reaching his master, Avanicus fell to one knee.

Silence radiated outwards, the crowd grew quiet.

“Avanicus Deridious,” Hadrian spoke at last. “For ten years, you have fought for me. Served me. Won for me. Gladiator, champion, hero of my name. You have more than made up the gold I spent on you long ago. Yet still you fight.”

“My lord,” Avanicus’ voice was gravelly. Like the rest of him, it sounded like it had once been finer before an injury or two. “I live to serve you. Every victory I bring, every cheer of the crowd. You have given me all that I ever wanted.”

Hadrian smiled tightly, but Ciara could sense the tension in him. Something was coming, but she didn’t know what.

“Perhaps not everything,” Hadrian said. “Tell me, Avanicus, what is the dream of a gladiator?”

“To win,” Avanicus said swiftly. “To hear the baying of the crowd. To feel the rush of the blood in your body, the pulsing beat of your heart as you know that you are alive and that you have tasted victory.”

“And after that?”

“To do it again. And again. As many times as you can before you finally fall. That is life for a gladiator.”

“For you, that final time is approaching,” Hadrian said. “You are still strong and young, but not as young as you once were, and with each injury you take, you become less strong.”

Avanicus looked up at him.

“Have I not satisfied you, master? I have won in your name. I have been injured, it is true, but not once have I been defeated. I have fought through pain and blood for you.”

“Let us not mince words,” Hadrian said. “You do me a great honour, but you have fought through pain and blood for yourself. You seek victory, you seek glory. By winning you bring it to me as well, but even if you did not, you would fight still. I admire your determination, Avanicus. I like your stubbornness, and your refusal to fall even when injured. In all of your career, you have never lost. Not once. You have been beaten, you have had bones broken, been injured. But you have never lost.

“Yet,” Hadrian’s voice became harder. “If you continue on, you will lose. You will fall. Perhaps not during your next fight, but sooner rather than later. After everything that you have done for me, I cannot allow your life to end face down in the sand.”

He drew forth the wooden sword. Avanicus’ eyes widened, and Ciara saw a pulse of shock running through his body.

“In times long past,” Hadrian said, “When a gladiator had fought enough, won enough, he was awarded his freedom and a wooden sword. That sword represented the end of the contract between him and his master. Though such things are not easily done anymore, I have pulled some strings. Talked to the right people. With the giving of this sword, you are a **** no more. You are a free man.”

The crowd - Ciara included - watched the sword as if it were some precious treasure. Hadrian lowered it, letting it rest upon Avanicus’s outstretched hand. The gladiator closed his fingers around it, his face a mask of turmoil.

“Rise and be free,” Hadrian said.

“Your gift is beyond generous,” Avanicus sounded emotional. “But I cannot accept.”

Ciara wanted to scream at him to stop, to think about what he was doing. But before her very eyes, he took the wooden sword in two hands and snapped it. Hurling the chunks to the ground.

“I am a gladiator,” Avanicus said. “That is all I can ever be. I cannot start a new life now. All of my skills are focused on ending life.”

“You could have wealth,” Hadrian said. “Power. Respect. A freeman will easily gain those where a **** would struggle.”

“I have respect,” said the gladiator. “In the arena, I am feared. I have power. As for wealth? Your money provides everything that I need. I have served you for ten years, Master Hadrian. I would serve you for whatever time I have left.”

Ciara - by now well aware of Hadrian’s normal body language, realised that something was not right. He was not surprised by Avanicus’ actions. He had played the part well, but for a moment - as the wooden blade had broken - there had been a look in his eyes. Victory.

He’d planned this.

He’d planned this whole thing. The poor man was being played. Hadrian had offered him freedom knowing that it would be refused.

“If that is your choice,” Spoke Hadrian, “I have another offer for you. I have need of a new captain for my household guard. Your particular skills would be well suited there. I need someone with power, with renown and above all else, with loyalty. Come and serve, and you will live a longer, better life than you had before.”

“I cannot,” Avanicus said. “The arena-”

“It calls to you. I know. But you must know that you will not remain its champion forever. You are getting older, and your foes are still young. One of them will get lucky. Sooner or later. I am giving you the chance to retire at your best. Undefeated. Serve one term in the household guard and if after that you truly wish to return to the arena? I will not stop you.”

Avanicus said nothing. His face was torn. On one hand, his desire to return to the arena was clearly strong. But what Hadrian offered was beyond the hope of most slaves. To hold such a high position of trust, it would mean that Avanicus was more important than almost any free man in the household.

Like a striking serpent, Hadrian moved in to seal the deal.

“And also, because of your great loyalty, I will reward you with your pick of the female slaves. Those who are not spoken for in obligation. I will grant you any woman here who is free to act as your right hand and your bed-****, as befits such an important position.”

“Are you serious?” It slipped out before Avanicus could catch himself. “A bed-**** is something that nobles and important people have. I am common.”

“You have more worth than most nobles, my friend,” Hadrian said. “And it is time you were treated like it. In fact, I have just the woman.”

He raised a hand.

“Onyx, come forth.”

“No,” Ciara moaned under her breath. Onyx was her friend! One of the only people who she could talk to here! Now she was just going to be given away?

Onyx emerged from the crowd. She was naked, bearing her silver collar. Her dark hair was in sharp contrast to her pale skin. Her eyes were wary, but her face was set. She knelt before the two men.

“Does she please you?” Hadrian asked. “She can be yours. For now and forever.”

“Stand,” Avanicus barked at her. “Let me see you.”

Onyx jumped to her feet. Her face was impossible to read. Ciara wished that Hadrian had chosen anyone else. Avanicus moved forward, his eyes played over her body. His fingers stroked her hair. One of his hands rose to her chest, caressing the swelling of her breasts. Her nipples grew harder, and her face grew redder.

“Why her?” Avanicus turned to Hadrian.

“She is ideal,” said the older man. “A Rovanii woman of fine breeding. The daughter of a priestess sold into slavery because of her father’s indiscretion. She is well learned and can be taught sexual techniques. She will do well for you as an advisor as well as a sex toy. She is my recommendation, but of course, you do not have to take her. As I said, any woman not otherwise spoken for.”

Choose someone else, Ciara desperately thought. Willing him with silent desperation. Choose anyone else!

But he did not. She could see by the way his face was set.

“Very well,” Avanicus said. “She has my approval. You do not mind if I test her out now?”

“I would expect nothing else,” Hadrian said. “Test her as you will.”

“****,” Avanicus gazed at Onyx with lust in his eyes.

“Yes, master?” She spoke the words softly, almost unsure but they fired him like nothing else.

“Spread your legs for me.”

She did. Her face turned aside as she spread her thighs, revealing her sex to the gladiator’s crude fingers. A soft sound escaped her lips. Ciara felt a fire filling her body. Anger and shared humiliation. Avanicus was touching her friend, rubbing his fingers against her slit, making her glimmer with wetness and desire.

Onyx was breathing fast. Her breasts rose and fell, her nipples were hard and her face was red. The sounds she was making - soft half-moans as the pleasure flooded her - only encouraged Avanicus and his exploration. One of his hands had moved behind her, smacking her ass hard enough to make her jitter, the sound was sharp, and it tore a gasp from her mouth. Meanwhile, his other hand was exploring her mound, his fingers running along its surface and teasing her sensitive skin.

Ciara jumped, feeling the leash attached to her collar go taut. Hadrian drew her back to him, forcing her to stand and watch as her friend was molested. Hadrian’s hands moved to her own breasts, fireworks flaring through her body at the contact. He caught her nipple between a thumb and forefinger, teasing it and rubbing it back and forth.

A shudder passed through Ciara, and a wave of pleasure and denial thundered through her spine. Was he going to make her get off to the sight of her friend’s humiliation?

It seemed that was indeed his plan. As Onyx gasped and moaned, Hadrian fumbled with Ciara’s sex. His fingers roughly teased aside her folds. She was already wet, and his dominance only made it worse. A heavy breath tore from her throat. Wetness stained his fingers. Heat flared through her lower body, spiking in the form of pleasure as his fingers penetrated her pussy.

Meanwhile, Onyx was on her knees again. Avanicus’s cock was out. It was hard and throbbing, and she was sucking on it. Her mouth was open, her tongue playing over the head. Her head bobbed back and forth, but it was not enough for the man and he placed his hands on the back of her skull to **** his member deeper into her mouth. Onyx spluttered, and her body heaved. She moaned around his shaft, trying desperately not to gag.

Ciara’s body was a pyre of passion. It took everything she had not to grind against Hadrian’s fingers as he toyed with her sex. Waves of pleasure made her legs shake. Every sound, moan and gasp that Onyx made was transmuted to her by Hadrian’s fingers. As if they were sharing the feeling. She knew that half the crowd had to be watching her now. She could feel their eyes against her naked body. She felt mortified, she wanted to cry out, to tell everyone to look away. To let her be humiliated in peace.

But they didn’t. To them, she was part of the show. Part of the proceedings. Her chains clinked and tinkled as she moved, the motion of her body played a soft song that echoed with the pulsing beat of her heart. She was breathing heavily and fast, Hadrian’s fingers made her jump and gasp and moan. There was a heat building between her legs that she tried to deny.

Meanwhile, Onyx now lay on the grass, her chest heaved, and Avanicus towered above her. He knelt down, his cock still hard.

“Spread your legs for me,” he told her. “I want to make you mine.”

Lying on her back, watched by everyone, Onyx did exactly as she was told. For once, even her usual resignation to the life of a **** was replaced by obvious ****. Avaniucs’ cock throbbed with desire, and he took hold of her thighs and pulled them apart greedily. Onyx groaned, the moment of penetration was rough and crude, but powerful. He was inside of her then, rocking on his knees, his hips thrusting and withdrawing. Onyx was crying out, her body shaking and her eyes pressed tightly closed.

Ciara felt shame that she was getting off to this. Watching her friend be despoiled in this manner. But Hadrian’s fingers were far more deft and skilled than those of the gladiator, and he quickly built her pleasure. He teased her, layering arousal on top of arousal. Making her nerves dance and sing with stimulation, like lightning coursing through her blood. His every touch turned her legs to jelly.

With a final sound of defeat, Ciara threw back her head. The pleasure of an orgasm washed over her, quickly followed by the shame of such a public climax. Her face grew heated, and the wetness between her thighs made her shiver with mortification. She gasped, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath. Hadrian held her close, enjoying the tremble which ran through her body.

Before them both, Avanicus continued to have his way with her friend.

____________________________________________________________

As Hadrian had promised, there was a party after the ceremony. It was held in a different garden, a larger one. Rounded, this time, with a deep pond forming the centrepiece. Statues were gathered around its shores, and tables had been lined along the ground. There were many reclining chairs so guests of importance could laze in the sun while the servants moved constantly around with trays of food and drinks.

Near the pond there was a wooden stage where a band of musicians played the flute, the piping, celebratory music wove over the chilly air.

The tables were lined with food, groaning with the sheer weight of all that they held. There was meat, more kinds of it than Ciara had ever seen before! Pig and boar, but also beef. Of bird, there were many. Chicken and duck and goose and swan. There were snails which had been roasted with their shells stuffed with garlic, and plates full of roasted mice.

Ciara was led, naked and leashed, to the centre of the garden where Hadrian reclined upon a wooden chair. As soon as he say down, others began to do the same, and before long a small group had gathered around him specifically. They were all older men, and each one had the same sort of look. Ciara guessed that they were his friends or perhaps his rivals. Though in Hadrian’s case, the two were one and the same.

There were many slaves and serving girls, and it seemed that the guests were able to enjoy more than just the food. A red-haired **** was surrounded by a group of men and **** to spread her legs for them. They touched her, running their fingers through her pussy and teasing her labia. She bit her lips, trying not to moan and they decided to turn it into a contest. The first one to make her gasp was allowed to have his way with her then and there.

Some tables contained not just food but also toys to be used with the female slaves. There were nipple clamps which could be hung with weights, flat-headed tools to spank, and cuffs and chains which could be kept tight or loose. Before long, the sounds of eating and the piping music could only barely contain the moaning and gasping as the better-looking ****-girls were singled out for special attention.

It was debauchery, but it was also what Celentium was about. Ciara stood in the midst of it all, plenty of people shot her envious looks, but no one dared to touch Hadrian’s personal ****. She was an observer, seeing the humiliation of her fellows as they sucked, fucked and were tormented.

In spite of the fact that this part was supposed to be for Avanicus, Ciara soon realised that he was not here. Neither was Onyx.

She managed to ask Hadrian about it, and he simply grinned.

“He has taken her back to his quarters,” said the old senator. “To get to know her more fully. I think that is the last we will see of them today.”

But even if Avanicus was gone, it soon became clear that Hadrian intended to impress and wow his guests. Everything was provided for free, and many of those in attendance seemed to be his peers. Ciara guessed that the whole thing was a political game he had been playing.

One of Hadrian’s chief weapons in this task was Ciara herself. Many admired her, finding her beauty striking. Her pale skin and her exotic eyes made her visibly different from a Rovanii-born ****. She was fit, and her body was Attractive, she got many envious looks, and she was sure that only her status as Hadrian’s bed-**** prevented them from going further.

But nothing would protect her from Hadrian himself. As the time went on, and he grew bored with the party, his earlier desire and lust became more and more obvious. Ciara hoped that he would wait until the party was over before claiming her, but that would have been against his desire.

“It’s time, I think, to show you off, my dear.”

Before she could respond, Hadrian got to his feet and gestured for silence. Gradually, the sound of the part diminished, though never fully vanished.

“My friends!” Hadrian called. “I am glad you have all enjoyed my hospitality! But I have one more precious thing to show you all! I am sure by now, you have heard tale of my great fortune in finding a barbarian **** of no small beauty.”

He **** Ciara to step forward. The ground made a muttering sound, and she found herself the absolute centre of attention. Heat flushed through her body, and she started to panic.

“Let it not be said that I am a jealous man,” Hadrian said. “So I have decided to show her off to all of you! Sunset, spread your legs.”

Ciara’s blood ran cold and for a moment, she desperately hoped that she had misheard. The entire party was turning to her, curious eyes edged with lust and eagerness. Terror coiled within her, and she started to breathe more quickly. She turned to Hadrian, wondering if she was going to beg for mercy, but there was none. His eyes were set. There was lust in them, but she also saw something deeper.

A lesson.

This was a lesson. But was it for her or for the guests at the party? Showing that he was still vital and strong.

“Sunset…” His voice was low, a warning tone behind his words. Anger flashed in his eyes. She was letting him down. Obedience was not enough. It had to be instant and unquestioning.

His face was gentle, but his eyes were thunderous. Her heart hammered, and she looked to the ground. The cold wind caressed her naked form as she **** her **** legs to part. She felt silly, standing with her legs as far apart as they could go. Her pussy bristled, the attention making her wet and warm down there. Glimmering arousal could be seen between her thighs.

She bit back a soft moan as Hadrian started to move. His fingers encircled her womanhood, stroking the folds of her sex with delicate sensitivity. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was just the two of them, except that still left the sound. The murmuring, the talking. How many people were watching her now? How many were seeing her humiliated like this?

Why did it feel so good?

Her body pulsed. Her nerves flared to life. Her womanhood throbbed as Hadrian’s fingers teased and stimulated the folds of her labia. She felt hot, her clitoris becoming more and more sensitive as he ran the tips of his fingers through her mound. Ciara’s back arched, showing off her chest as it did.

Electricity thundered through her veins, her master’s every touch danced along her skin. Ciara could feel the attention she was getting, sense the lust and desire and arousal. She knew what she looked like, her legs spread, her master teasing and tormenting her pussy. No way to guard herself, no way to protect her dignity.

They were all watching as the waves of pleasure flashed through her body, each one stronger than the last. Her toes curled, and she tried not to moan. Her breath was coming in gasps now. Tendrils of burning pleasure coiled around her body. Her womanhood felt tight, her clitoris was hot and throbbing. She was wet, and the glint of her arousal adorned Hadrian’s fingers as he probed and teased and made her writhe.

Finally, her master had had enough. His cock was hard, and he pushed her down on one table, sweeping aside the plates to land with an all-mighty clatter! His robe fell to the floor next, exposing his body. Aged, but powerful. His erection clear for everyone to see.

Hadrian had no shame about being seen naked. It wasn’t the same as it was for a ****. To the Rovanii, clothes mattered less than power and dominance and Hadrian was clearly and easily in charge.

Ciara lay with her back to the table, heat rushed through her. An aching need consumed her body. She was aware of everyone watching, she was aware of what they were seeing. A barbarian **** being put in her place. Providing pleasure to her master, just as a good **** should. She felt hot, her skin tingled. It was as though electricity were coursing along her breasts and her pussy. A deep, throbbing need had consumed her and her eye’s were fixed on Hadrian’s cock.

During their time together, he had taken her from behind. He enjoyed that. But he had always resisted the urge to fuck her pussy. Now it seemed that the time had come. Her first time with him would be in front of the crowd, driving in the fact for all involved that she was well and truly his.

Her back arched, the tip of his shaft pressed against her folds. It felt hot and hard, and her body ached to be filled. Arousal surged, tainting her every thought and sensation. Hadrian’s face was eager, and the people around them were cheering or simply watching.

I’m the entertainment now, Ciara thought dimly.

Then Hadrian thrust, his cock penetrating her womanhood, and she gave a long, low moan. The feeling was intense! After being teased during the reception, and being shown off to the guests, her body gleefully embraced the next level of stimulation. Heat and pleasure flared, making her legs shake and her toes curl.

They were moving then, rocking back and forth. Hadrian’s thrusts carried through her whole body, each one tore a moan from her throat. She could feel her legs straining, her muscles responding on their own. There was a rhythm to it, a back and forth as they each did their part. Faster, they moved and as they did, it started to feel even better. Her nerves screamed, her hips thrust and started to grind against his cock. The air was stolen from her lungs, and her mouth was dry. Her back arched, and her eyes stared upwards, towards the sky and the sun.

Pleasure bloomed inside of her. Growing more and more with each thrust, each movement, each step in their dance. She was acting too, moving herself back and forth in tune with his penetrations. The tempo grew more frantic, desire and need bubbled up inside of her. She was moaning, explosions of ecstasy flowing through her fevered body. Hadrian grunted, throwing himself into an even greater pace. The wooden table beneath her seemed to cling to her skin, her body grew hotter and hotter. There was a tightness between her legs, a throbbing promise of what was to come.

“Who am I?” Hadrian grunted, his shadow towering over her. His hands were moving down towards her chest, his fingers stroking the smooth contours of her skin. “What am I to you?”

“Hah,” She moaned, trying to find the words between thrusts. “Y-you’re my master! A-and I am your ****!”

“That’s right!” His hand flashed out, striking her thigh with a loud, ringing slap. The pain was sudden, but not intense. “And when you’re told to do something, you do it instantly! Do you hesitate?”

“N-no!” She cried out. Her mind was full of fog. Hadrian’s cock was tearing through her inhibitions. Her blood was boiling, and her senses were screaming. The world was jagged and bright, and she was on the cusp of an orgasm stronger than anything she had ever felt before. “I’m sorry master!”

“I thought better of you, Sunset,” Hadrian said. “I really did.”

He continued to move. Splashes of vivid pleasure seared across her mind.

“But then,” her master said, “I suppose the fault is mine. You are not Rovanii. You do not understand. But you will be taught. Oh yes. Soon you will understand exactly your place.”

Ciara climaxed as he spoke, the feeling broiled through her like it never had before. It was like a tide, like a sea which swept through her mind and body. She lay on the table, feeling the popping fireworks flaring off inside of her nerves and senses. The air was stolen from her lungs, and for a few minutes, she did not even know where she was anymore.

But she still felt Hadrian inside of her. His cock throbbed, it was long and stiff and so very hard. He was moving faster and faster, grunting with pleasure as her pussy reacted to the orgasm by tightening around his member. Ciara could feel him inside of her, his hips rocking back and forth, each thrust forcing her to grunt or to moan. He was older than her, but in good shape and sweat glistened on his muscles. He was moving faster now, caught up in the moment. Enjoying the flood of stimulation which washed through them both.

Suddenly, he reached his limit. She tried to cry out, but could not find the strength. His cock spasmed, and she felt the hot flush of his seed as it filled her womanhood and pussy. Hadrian thrust a few more times before finally withdrawing, leaving her naked and gasping on the table.

Hadrian did up his robe and turned back to the guests. Some of them cheered, as though it had all been one big performance. No one paid much attention to her now, a toy which had fulfilled its purpose of titillation.

Around her, the party continued.