Part Two

For Ciara, the rest of the auction was a blur. The harsh denial of her climax after being brought so frustratingly close sapped all the strength from her body. She hung from the pillar, her chest rising and falling. Her legs shook, and her womanhood ached with the throbbing coldness of her ruined orgasm.

By the end of the day, as the sun started to sink below the horizon, a carriage was sent for her, and an overseer - not the same one as before - came to unlock her chains while the driver dismounted. He had an aide, a younger looking man with a pinched face and red hair. They eyed her body, but she was too tired to care and slumped to her knees as soon as her cuffs were removed.

“She’s broken,” Said the aid. “The master bought a **** in this condition? I mean, she’s a looker and all. I like the freckles. But she’s not going to be any fun.”

“Save me from impulsive idiots,” The driver growled. “She’s not broken, she’s just tired. Never seen a female **** after auction, have you? She’ll be fine with a bit of rest. Now get her into the carriage and don’t paw at her too much! You know the master doesn’t like his goods mishandled.”

“At least she has a collar,” the younger man grunted, taking hold of the leash connected to her collar. Ciara was **** to stumble to her feet. “Hey look, she’s obeying! Maybe there is some life in her after all! Do you think I can make her do tricks?”

“I think you can get yourself punished later if you don’t stop showing off,” The driver snarled. “You think you’re too valuable to get rid of? Do you think Master Hadrian will think twice about selling a worthless manual **** like you? Get her in the carriage!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m doing it.” The aid muttered. “But you don’t have to get high and mighty with me, Lucian. You’re a **** too!”

“That’s right,” said the driver - Lucian - “But I’m an old **** and I am reliable which means that Master Hadrian will always take my word over yours. Get moving.”

The aid pulled on her leash again, guiding Ciara up towards the entrance to the carriage. Her legs still felt weak but there was a guardrail, and she took hold of it with one hand. The interior was plush and comfortable, and the aid sat her down before taking a seat beside her. Lucian, the driver, spoke to the overseer for a few more minutes before he got back into the cart section and cracked the reins. The horses started to move, and Ciara felt the whole carriage begin to rattle.

She sat back, her mind whirling. She was being taken away again. Taken away to a place she did not know, to perform for a man who she had never met before today. She was going to be used, to be fucked, to be pleasured by him and expected to pleasure him in turn. The collar around her neck felt tighter than it ever had, reminding her of her place in this terrifying new world.

The aid beside her placed a hand on her thigh. She tried to ignore how her skin crawled, but he started to inch closer to her pussy. His cock was hard and pressing through the fabric of his leggings.

Ciara made a soft, moaning sound as his fingers brushed the lips of her womanhood. Her labia tingled and heat flushed through her body. His fingers were rough, clumsy, but excited. Was he going to torment her here?

“Please don’t,” She murmured, but she was too tired and weak to pull away.

“Oh, you can talk now?” Said the aide. “That’s a surprise. But don’t you want to have some fun? Or am I just too unimportant for a beauty like you? Best to get used to your new lot in life.”

He tapped her womanhood with one finger to drive in the point. The feeling made her want to curl up.

“I don’t want this,” Ciara said. The aide looked at her for a moment, but then he sighed and his expression softened.

“Yeah, I guess not. None of us do right away.”

He took his hand away.

“My name is Cicandius. I was sold into slavery for gambling debts about a year ago. What’s yours?”

“I’m Ciara,” She said. “I was…I am a Keltoi Tribeswoman. I was captured in a raid, brought here and sold.”

“I see,” Cicandius said. “I hope you’re not relying on your people coming to your help. Even if they could track you down, Celentium is massive. They’d never find you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” She demanded. “Are you trying to make me lose all hope?”

“No,” He said. “But false hope is bad. It may make you feel better now, but it’ll crush you later. Don’t rely on others for rescue. They’re never going to come.”

He said that bitterly, and Ciara guessed that it had been his own hope at one point.

“So what do I do then?” She asked softly, “Just accept that I’m a **** now? A whore? A fuck-toy for the rich?”

“Listen, sister, it’s better than being a labour ****,” Cicandius told her bluntly. “You work outside for long hours with few breaks. The food is shit, and they punish you for even the smallest delay. Mines are the worst place to be, but after that, there are farms and construction work. We’re both pretty damned lucky to be owned by Hadrian.”

“Is this all I’ll ever be?” She whispered, mostly to herself. Cicandius heard her and answered.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Slaves can be freed if their master allows it. Hadrian isn’t an evil bastard like some owners I’ve heard about. If you serve me well for a few years, he may set you up for life. You’re pretty fortunate. You’re a looker. The worst thing that’s going to happen to you is sex and maybe pretending you love the guy. Faking an orgasm or two. Don’t you girls do that all the time? A few years of that and then a life of wealth? Sounds ideal to me.”

But it didn’t to Ciara. Even assuming that Cicandius was right - which wasn’t itself sure, since it sounded a whole lot like wishful thinking to her - she didn’t want to be used and fucked. It was all very well for Cicandius to tell her that sex was not too bad, but it wasn’t him that had to feel the chains around her throat or limbs. The feeling of penetration. The swirling shame and passion that came with her building pleasure. The misery of a climax as her body betrayed her mind, both loathing herself for giving into the pleasure and yet knowing that she’d had ****.

She had no delusions. She was like a statue or a painting. Something to be admired and possessed. But if something like that didn’t meet your expectations, you got rid of it. Ciara was not safe. Her future and perhaps even her life relied on being able to play the part of the perfect toy and bed **** without ever letting it break her.

Ciara did not know if she could do that, but as things stood she had little choice but to try.

Hadrian’s Villa was located outside the walls of the city. She was surprised about that, but shouldn’t have been. Celentium required massive amounts of food daily, and though it imported much, it also had to grow its own. That meant crops and meat. That in turn meant farms, which meant farmers, workers and places for them to live. Then, added to that, there were wealthy nobles like Hadrian who didn’t want to be constrained by the walls of the city. Within Celentium, space was at a premium and even the rich had to be modest. Outside of it, you could have sprawling compounds, villas which were basically small towns in and of themselves.

This was the sort that Hadrian ran. It was a collection of buildings spread out over a wide area, surrounded by wide stone walls. It opened up onto a beach, and the main house - which was easily two or three times the size that Hadrian would have been allowed to have inside the city - was made of marble, polished granite and, of all things, sandstone.

It was a baffling trait of the Rovanii in general that they made their homes from stone. Before they had known their true name, the Keltoi had called them the Stone People.

But Ciara did not have much time for such thoughts. There was a small welcoming party waiting for them as the carriage pulled through the main gate. An older-looking man with a tunic and grey-striped hair and two female slaves. Ciera knew that they were slaves because they were naked. One of them was blond, the other was dark-haired and pale. They bore collars which were more intricate and slender than her own, and did not try to conceal their bodies. One of them - the blond one - looked Keltoi like Ciara, but the other was Rovanii.

Cicandius took her leash again and tugged her - more gently this time - towards the open door. Ciara wondered what new hell she was stepping into now, and the urge to try to stay in the shadowed, safe carriage was strong.

Strong, but false. There was no way out of it but through it, and though that thought made her shiver, Ciara braced herself for whatever indignity would come next. She stepped from the carriage, standing for the first time upon the polished stone flooring of Hadrian’s villa.

The older man stepped forward at once. He was not a ****, it was obvious in how he looked and how he acted. He was an elder servant, a member of the household. Ciara felt his eyes sweep over her body, but for once someone did not linger on her nude form. He nodded and then clapped. Instantly, the two female slaves responded.

“Yes, master?” Asked the dark-haired one. “She is the **** that Master Hadrian bought?”

“Indeed she is,” The man said. “But she is rather soiled at the moment. Auctions are such dirty affairs. Get her cleaned up and made presentable. Give her food and a place to rest. Tomorrow, the master will see her.”

Cicandius gave her one last look before turning away. One of the new slaves took her leash. Neither seemed to care much about their nudity. They led her away and Ciara - with nothing else to do - meekly followed.

“This is the new bed-****?” Said the blond-haired Keltoi once they were far enough not to be overheard. “She doesn’t seem very pretty to me. Though, I like her eyes. Rather pale.”

“You are a barbarian,” The other woman said. “But even you must admit that she is beautiful.”

“She looks filthy.”

“She’s just been through an auction. You remember yours?”

The blond woman shuddered.

“Exactly. Now let’s get to the bathhouse.”

The bathhouse was a large stone building erected over a natural hot spring - the Rovanii loved such places - and the structure had been decorated with rick, spiralling colours and patterns. Tall marble pillars lined the path, and they were draped with lengths of cloth which fluttered in the breeze.

Within, the floor was patterned in a mosaic, and the water was shallow enough on one end to wade in and deep enough on the other to swim. Statues had been placed along the walls denoting famous Rovanii heroes and gods. The biggest stood upon a raised pillar in the centre of the room, a stone satyr playing the flute.

The water felt good against her skin. The other two slaves followed. One benefit of being naked was that there was no time needed to disrobe. Ciara submersed herself, washing away the stains and the dirt of the auction. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe that she was home.

Almost. Emerging from the water, Ciara’s shoulder-length brown hair stuck to her body. It was the only sort of cover she was allowed now. She looked to the two women. Neither of them had spoken since they had taken her leash, she wondered if she was considered below even them.

As if she had read her thoughts, the dark-haired Rovanii woman spoke.

“You know, you haven’t said anything since you arrived. Was it really that bad?

She tilted her head, giving Ciara a sympathetic look.

“I remember my auction,” She went on. “It was horrible. So many people groping me and feeling me up! They made me spread my legs for them so that they could check the condition of my pussy!”

“I was a barbarian,” Spoke the Keltoi woman. “I was marched through town with my two sisters. We were naked and humiliated, split up and sold off. I have not seen either of them since.”

Ciara closed her eyes, a deep shiver worked its way through her body. The memory of Hadrian’s fingers sparking pleasure and what between her legs made her blush, and she gazed down at the water until she had brought herself under control.

“I…I’m Ciara,” She said. “I am Keltoi.”

“Ciara,” The dark-haired **** smiled. “My name is Onyx.”

“Onyx?” Ciara blinked. That was not a Rovanii name.

“My new name,” The **** clarified. “The Master, Hadrian, gives us new names and takes away our old ones. Says it helps us to move on from the past. My hair is black, so he called me Onyx. Like the stone, you see?”

“Were you his…” Ciara trailed off, trying to find a polite way to ask if Hadrian had had his way with her.

“His bed-****?” Onyx guessed what she was getting at. “No, I am just a serving girl. The master is rather traditional, so almost all of the female slaves here are naked. Don’t think anything of it. The guys most certainly don’t. The master has never had a bed-**** before. You’re the first.”

Ciara closed her eyes, remembering more of how Hadrian had driven her body wild, his fingers working between her legs. Shock and arousal had surged through her, growing stronger with every moment that passed. She hated how she had broken in the end, begging him to make her his own. Humiliation flowed from that moment, filling her up with hot shame.

For now, she looked up, trying to distract herself.

“You’re Keltoi, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” The blond grunted. “My name is Brywin. The master has not seen fit to give me a new one. I am sure he will give one to you, though. You are special.”

“Joy,” Ciara made a face, feeling more alone now than she had a moment ago.

“Don’t worry about it,” Onyx said. “The master is kind to his slaves. You’ll do well here. And you’re a bed-**** too! No one will bother you except the master! You’ll basically be second in command before too long if you’re smart!”

Smart or not, Ciara thought, A **** is still a ****.

“It’s for the best,” The Keltoi woman said. “Believe me, you could have ended up with worse than Hadrian.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about,” Ciara said.

“I had another master before I was bought by Hadrian,” Said the Keltoi tribeswoman. “Once who was more demanding. They wanted to turn me into a bed ****, but not like you. You are beautiful, pretty. Hadrian wants to possess you, yes, but also to maintain you. You are a symbol of status. You being healthy and happy is important for him. But I was destined to be a broken doll. An exotic fuck-toy handed out by my master as a reward to those who served him well.”

Disbelief and shock echoed through Ciara as she looked at the other woman. The Keltoi **** could not have been much older than her, but now she had mentioned it, there were marks on her body which looked like they could have been made by whips long ago. The skin around her wrists was marked by cuffs as if she had been bound very tightly for a long period.

“Every day, I was ‘’trained’’,” The woman said. “They used toys to make me cum. At first, it was dildos. Then they bound my hands behind my back and fucked me from behind. I was made to ride a wooden horse - have you ever heard of such a thing? It is a device with a pointed edge tapering upwards. You sit upon it with your legs spread, and your weight slowly pushes your womanhood down against it. Many Rovanii use them to punish female slaves.

“For me, every time I misbehaved, I was **** to ride it. Sometimes, they attached extra weights to my nipples or even my clitoris or made me cum while it was under me. At night, I was put in a pillory, my arms locked in place and my back to the door of the cell. Anyone could come in and do anything they wanted to me for the whole night. Sometimes, the guards would fuck me or torment me. They liked to make me dance for them, and if I did not, they would think up some punishment to make me go through.

“At one point, I was not allowed to cum for three weeks. Every day, I would be made to crawl around the home, and anyone who wanted could torment me and edge me. But I was not allowed to climax. They enjoyed the sheer humiliation I felt when I was **** to beg for it and the utter helpless despair that I was subject to when they denied me again and again.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ciara asked. “It sounds horrible!”

“Because I want you to understand that you could have done a lot worse than Hadrian,” The other **** told her. “And that you don’t want to disappoint him and be sold to someone else.”

After this, they washed her. Ciara was **** to stand still as Onyx and the female **** rubbed her down, using cloths and towels to cleanse every inch of her body. It was strangely intimate; the two women spared no part of her. They wished her thighs, her chest, her breasts and even her labia and mound were not spared their attention. Ciara coloured when they ran a towel between her legs, scrubbing and washing her until her normally pale skin was pink and gleaming.

After this, she was taken from the bathhouse and brought to her quarters in the main house. They were big; the sort of thing that a rich woman might have. Ciara boggled at it, but she also didn’t fail to notice that there was only one way in and that it locked from the outside.

Once inside, she was led to a large, comfortable-looking bed.

“The master will want to see you tomorrow,” Onyx said. “I will be back to prepare you for him then. In the meantime, try to sleep. Tomorrow, you must perform for him. You must show him that you are worth keeping.”

“You talk about me as if I am some sort of whore,” Ciara said with distaste.

“As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you are,” Onyx said. “You’re a bed **** now, so you’d best act like one. If you don’t you’ll be sold off to someone who breaks slaves like you. And believe me, there are plenty of options. Think of that, Ciara.”

And then she was gone.

That night, Ciara slept deeply but not well. She tossed and turned in her bed, the blankets twisting around her naked body. Several times she woke up, her hand moving to the iron collar that was still fastened around her throat. Her dreams were troubled, visions of the future that filled her with dread and fear. She saw herself kneeling and naked, chained up and tormented. A future stretched ahead of her that she did not want; the cold touch of iron, the clamp of collars and chains. The hot, vivid humiliation of being used again and again.

When she woke, it was early that morning. Sitting up in the bed as the blankets pooled around her. the last echoes of a vivid dream lingered in her mind. She felt a horrible wetness between her legs.

She had been back at the auction, but this time, Hadrian had wanted to go further. Instead of just fingering her he’d ordered her to spread her legs for him then and there. The biting edge of shame she’d felt as she **** her thighs apart had been like a physical blow. The feeling of the tip of his cock pressing against her womanhood filled her with disgust and instinctive arousal. Everyone was turning to watch, everyone was about to see her getting fucked.

Closing her eyes, Ciara could still remember how helpless and how utterly powerless she had been in that dream. As Hadrian had sunk into her, his shaft penetrating her womanhood and forcing her lower lips aside, she had woken up. But the mixed arousal, fear and shame had not quickly faded.

For the first part of the day, Onyx showed her around the compound.

“It’s a villa,” The Rovanii ****-girl explained, “But technically it’s not. ‘’Villa’’ just means home or house, so most people tend to think of something much smaller than this place. I’ll show you around, you’ll be expected to know your own way to most of the important areas soon enough.”

As they walked, Ciara saw many more ****-girls at work. There were women of many kinds, with many different builds. Most were naked, and some bore the marks of whips or cuffs.

“Not everyone here belongs to the master,” Onyx said. “Like any important noble, he has to maintain an image. So that means guests. And guests bring their own slaves. You can tell by the collars. Anyone who does not have a collar like mine doesn’t belong here.”

Ciara’s sharp eyes spotted the difference instantly. The collars that Hadrian’s slaves wore were intricate things, which were cast in gold, silver or bronze and sometimes had gems or jewels embedded into them. Other slaves had cruder collars, or collars of leather.

Another thing that she had to do was get used to being ogled at. As Onyx led her through the corridors and halls, many of the males - and some of the females too - turned to look at her and followed her with their eyes. Ciara flushed, hating how her naked body drew attention. The urge to cover herself up with her hands was powerful but Onyx advised her against it.

“It’s not worth it,” She said. “I know how tempting it can be, but most masters punish you if they think you’re covering up. If you’re covering up, it means you’re trying to preserve your dignity.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re a ****. You don’t have dignity. You’re only allowed what your master gives you. Oh, don’t give me that look. I know that you’re not happy with it. Neither was I! Daughter of a rich merchant and priestess and I was expected to run around naked? But, well, when you’re a **** you don’t exactly get a say. The Rovanii Empire has three tiers of power. Men who want to see us naked, women who don’t care about us or see us as human, and former slaves who don’t want to look like they’re going against the flow. Not a single one of them is interested in letting us have clothes.”

She shrugged, indicating in one smooth gesture their powerlessness and the probability of punishment if they tried to do anything else.

After Onyx had shown her most of the villa, they returned to Ciara’s new quarters. It was late by now; they had spent most of the day moving from one section to another. It was almost time for her meeting with Hadrian. The thought of which made her tingle with dread.

Before, she had to be prepared. Onyx had brought tools and set to work making her the Rovanii ideal of beauty.

“You’re already very good-looking,” The other woman said. “So it won’t be hard. The Rovanii like their women pale so you have an advantage there. We’ll put on makeup to emphasise it. Your eyes are good too. Pale blue isn’t a colour most Rovanii see in eyes, so you stand out.”

The other woman began to work on her body, dabbing pale make-up on her face and chest and rubbing it in with her hands. Her fingers curled, spreading the colour in a uniform layer.

“You’re very lucky,” Onyx said, “Most barbarian women aren’t really suited for being bed-slaves. Too rebellious, they have to be broken first. But something about you caught the master’s eye. It’s not a bad life, Ciara. Really. Not like what I am getting,”

Ciara shot her a questioning look.

“I am going to be sold soon,” Onyx admitted. “I’m a serving girl here, but with my looks and background, I make a much better bed-****. Since Hadrian doesn’t want to employ me that way, he’s probably going to sell me off for a lot of money to someone who does. I hope that when it does happen, I get someone who treats me like Hadrian wants to treat you.”

She made it sound so romantic, but Ciara didn’t want to be anything to Hadrian. He was using her, seeing her as a thing to be owned. He didn’t care about her as a person, just something pretty that he could use to impress his friends.

She didn’t say anything, there was no point. Onyx was from a different world.

Once the makeup was applied, Onyx began to decorate her body with different tools. The first were circlets of golden metal which snapped closed around her ankles and wrists. They were like cuffs, but not sturdy. Through these, she threaded a fine, golden chain. She snaked it along Ciara’s body, wrapping it about her limbs. Strands hung from the chains, making a soft tinkling noise whenever she moved.

Her breasts were next; Onyx took out a small paintbrush, and a pot filled with a strange, clear liquid. She dipped the first into the second and began to apply it to Ciara’s nipples. The Keltoi woman bit back a moan. The back-and-forth motion of the brush across her areola set fireworks off in her body. Her nipples hardened and then began to tingle.

“What have you done to me?” Ciara asked as Onyx put away the pot.

“It’s a common solution for bed-slaves to use,” she explained. “The master wanted it done. It helps to enhance and maintain arousal. It’ll keep your nipples hard for a bit, and make contact there feel better. Traditionally, it’s applied to the clitoris as well.”

“N-no,” Ciara gasped. “Not that!”

“It’s fine, the master is easing you in. Just the breasts today.”

Ciara breathed a sigh of relief, but then it was time for them to go. Onyx attached a metal leash to her collar and led her from the room and out into the corridor. Feeling the tug of the leash made everything far more humiliating, and Ciara felt her face start to heat up. People turned to watch, hearing the soft clinking of the golden chains. The cold air teased her nipples, running tendrils of unseen stimulation across her areola and breasts. The tingling and heat in her chest grew greater as her own arousal soared.

Soon enough, they were outside Hadrian’s room. It was a grand room, with large double doors and images set into the walls. Onyx knocked, and the doors opened to reveal the man himself. . He was garbed in a rich, flowing robe of white cloth. His body was muscular, though his hair was greying. Confidence and anticipation danced in his eyes.

He looks so old, Ciara thought. Despite his efforts to maintain his figure, it was clear that Hadrian was easily her senior. The age-gap between them was somehow shameful and humiliating, filling her with a sense of nervous apprehension.

Hadrian held out a hand and Onyx dropped Ciara’s leash into his waiting palm. He tugged, forcing Ciara to walk into the room. She threw one last look back at her fellow ****, silently begging Onyx not to leave. But the black haired woman had ****. She shot Ciara a sorry look and closed the door.

Now Ciara was alone with Hadrian for the first time. Trying to distract herself, she looked around. His rooms were huge. There was a massive bed set against the far wall. A suit of old legion armour was standing in the corner. There were shelves full of books and scrolls, and a table covered in what looked like letters and correspondences.

“Do you like them?” Hadrian laughed. “Even though I am retired, old friends often want to ask for favours. The life of a senator is never done. But that is work, and work is boring. For tonight, let us move to a more fitting place.”

He led her out towards a balcony set into the wall. Thick curtains hung across the entrance, but he pulled them aside to reveal a scenic picture. The sea rolled and roiled beneath them, the air was heavy with salt and the distant cries of birds. Up above, the sun was starting to sink, painting the whole scene in vivid colours of crimson and orange.

“Beautiful,” Hadrian said. She wasn’t sure if he was talking about her or the sunset.

“Did you enjoy your first day as my property?”

It was humiliating and I hated it, She thought. I was marched through the house, shown off to complete strangers. Stripped of dignity and **** to expose myself for anyone who wanted an eyeful.

But she did not say those words. She had not been a **** long, but Ciara understood the fact that Hadrian quite literally held her life in his hands.

“Yes, master,” She said instead. “It was wonderful.”

“I wonder if you are lying,” Hadrian mused. “Most girls do not so quickly get used to being slaves. Much less barbarians like you. I expected more resistance, to be frank.”

He shook his head, seemingly putting that thought aside for later.

“But now it is time for you to perform your duty. You are to be a bed-****, and I have paid a considerable sum for you. Tonight, you will prove to me that money was worth it or you will be sold on to another. Let us start with an examination.”

Ciara gulped, Hadrian’s fingers curling around her nipples. Her skin burned at the touch, and she felt fear and disgust. Hatred surged through her, followed by a hot wetness between her legs. His thumb and forefinger caressed her chest, applying both pressure and stimulation. She struggled not to moan. Her face was flushed, and humiliation soared through her. In her tribe, no one would do this but the man she chose to settle with. Now her breasts and her pussy and every other part of her was legally the property of this stranger. This older man who had bought her and was intending to use her.

Shame brought tears to the corners of her eyes as he spun her around. Facing her towards the railings of the balcony and the crimson sunset.

“I would like to use your mouth,” Hadrian said. “But I am not stupid. You are a barbarian if an unusually compliant one. So that idea is out for now. The second thing I wanted to use was your womanhood. I enjoyed your squirming and moaning at the auction, the thought of sinking my cock into you made me eager indeed. But there will be time for that later as well. I have decided tonight to take your ass.”

“My ass? For a moment, what he said did not register. Ciara had never even considered her ass to be anything sexual! She swallowed, feeling a surging panic.

“But master, you won’t fit there!”

He chuckled, running a hand down her left ass cheek. The nails of his fingers rippled across her skin, spreading heat and tense nervousness in their wake.

“You will be surprised,” He told her. “I have brought lubricant especially for it. I think it would be beautiful to fuck you here, over the balcony, and to have your cries and moans echo out over the oceans. To let all the world know that you are mine.”

Ciara said nothing. Something cold and wet was poured across her behind. It was thick, like a gel, and Hadrian began to rub it in with long, lazy strokes. His hands caressed her, gliding across her ass in a manner both sensual and humiliating. He told her to spread her legs, forcing Ciara to participate in her own humiliation. She lowered her head, gazing blankly towards the floor of the balcony as if that would conceal her from the way that Hadrian’s fingers danced across her behind. He rubbed and pushed, spreading the liquid not only over her but into her too. Her fists clenched tightly, and despair stabbed through her gut when he slipped a finger into her ass. Teasing and probing her in a way that no man ever had before.

That finger was followed by another, and then another stretching outwards. He was pulling at her, testing her elasticity, and rubbing more of the lotion directly against her asshole.

Heat boiled inside of her. She hated the feelings of arousal that were surging through her body. Mortification coloured her face, and a great wave of shame swamped her.

Hadrian moved up behind her, his body pressing against her own. Ciara’s spine arched, the warm presence of his member pressing against her backside. His hands looped around her chest, fondling her and stealing the air from her lungs with his touch.

And he fucked her.

It was sore at first. Her ass had never been used this way and even with the lubricant, she felt her muscles tightening and trying to resist. Hadrian’s cock was long and arousal had made it hard. He did not simply push all of himself into her at once, but nor did he give her much time to adjust. The head of his shaft moved back and forth, teasing her ass as he edged himself deeper into her body. There were tears in her eyes, the sounds of her moan carrying in the wind.

Her body moved, lurching forward as he thrust. The railings of the balcony pressed against her chest and breasts. The golden chains she was wearing began to rattle, filling the wind with sound.

She was being fucked in the ass. She was being fucked in the ass. As Hadrian really got down to business, the collar around her throat felt tight and damning. The presence of her master behind her - his cock inside of her - made her feel helpless and reduced. Her body shook, and his fingers played with her chest, rubbing and stroking her breasts. Heat broiled between her legs, and she was gasping and moaning as she moved back and forth. She was wet, and her clit was pulsing with heat and want. Each thrust of Hadrian’s filled her whole world and send echoes shivering down her spine.

Her ass stung; the pain growing as he fucked her. She was absolutely mortified to find that her body at least was enjoying it. The arousal was surging inside of her; heat building between her legs like it never did when she touched herself alone. Hadrian’s touch sparked fear and desire, but also something deeper now. An animal desire rose up inside of her, and even the humiliation of Hadrian’s age couldn’t make it go away.

Confusion unfolded her. She wanted to cry as she rocked back and forth, Hadrian’s fingers teasing and testing her nipples. His cock was hard, pounding her from behind with a hasty rhythm which set her whole body to throbbing with need and want. Passion and heat spiked within her, made her cry out, her brown hair flying in all directions as her body lurched back and forth.

Ciara desperately tried to hold on to who she was, to cling to her pride as a Keltoi woman. But Hadrian’s deep thrusts cut through her thoughts. Her legs were spreading on their own, her pussy dripping. Her mind and body were at war. Arousal and horror battling to the ****. She hated this! She hated everything about this! Misery and terror filled her, but something deeper and darker was reaching up through them. Arousal spread its traitorous tendrils through her body, heat and pleasure surged in the back of her mind.

She did not understand why she was so turned on by this, but her body was getting more and more sensitive, each thrust of his cock was more powerful, more stimulating than the last.

Her cries echoed through the beach, and she thought for sure that everyone must be listening to them now. Hearing her get fucked, knowing that she truly did belong to Hadrian. It filled her with confusion and shame.

Hadrian’s hand slipped lower, one of them still playing with her chest, stroking and fondling her there while the second dipped, inching towards her pussy. As soon as his fingers brushed the outer lips of her womanhood, Ciara loosed an unwilling grunt. It felt good! It felt far too good!

His finger worked upwards, tracing a path to her aching clitoris. When he touched her there, Ciara felt as if a wave of electricity had screamed through every nerve in her body. Her legs started to shake, and she went weak. Hadrian’s thrusts grew faster, his cock spearing deeper inside of her. Her ass was throbbing, pain and pleasure pouring through her at once. Her mind was drowning in it. She’d never felt like this in all of her life.

She wasn’t a ****!

She wasn’t!

She was Ciara! She was proud and free!

She just….

She just had to hold onto that…

His fingers caressed her clit, sending explosive waves of pleasure screaming through her. Ciara threw her head back, her senses overwhelmed. Tears were streaming down her face. Her body was responding, pressing back against him, grinding her ass against his cock.

Hadrian was excited, enjoying himself. His nimble finger teased her clitoris, stroking it and making her body tremble with its surging sensitivity. Ciara had never been touched by someone else there. The feeling was more intense than she had ever imagined, and before long she could not hold back the climax which roared through her body. She came, on that balcony, her cries echoing out over the sea.

When it was done, she was leaning against the rails. Her body slumped, exhausted and shamed. Hadrian drew himself out of her, his seed spilling down her legs. Ciara’s chest rose and fell as she desperately tried to sort her thoughts.

“That was acceptable,” Hadrian said. “The sounds you made were beyond reproach but your technique is a bit lacking. Still, that is a problem with many new slaves and can be easily solved. I think you were worth the money.”

He turned away from her as she tried to gather her wits. Her limbs felt heavy, and the aftereffects of her orgasm were still echoing through her body. When Hadrian came back, she was **** to kneel, his cum was still spilling from between her cheeks. Hot tears marked her face, but he didn’t care about that. He unlocked her collar and let it fall. It was the one she’d worn since she’d been in the auction. Iron and plain.

The new one he closed around her throat was thin and gold, a gemstone set in the front. It closed with a click and locked around her neck.

“Now you really are mine,” Hadrian said. “But you will not be Ciara anymore. Ciara is a barbarian woman, unfitting for any Rovanii noble. You will be Sunset, an eternal reminder of this night.”

He ran his hand through her hair, almost delicately. But his next words sent fingers of ice racing through her soul.

“And Sunset can be whoever I want her to be.”