her, where he wriggled the tip until she
felt that delicious tension knotting inside her cunt, her muscles
clenching with pleasure.
The slaves gathered around the table
smiled down at her. They patted her on the bottom and stoked her
hair.
"Parvum venustus."
She thought that Parvum meant small
and... something?
Well, she'd certainly never been
called small either. She might start enjoying this alternate
universe after all if her size was considered small here, she
thought drily.
"Good. Slave," one of them said,
making an effort in her own tongue, beaming down at her. "Much.
Pleasure. Give. Master. Parvum theca."
"Theca?"
They conferred with each another and
then one of the men cupped her sex in the palm of his hand.
"Vagina. So small. Our Master, fortunatus."
So much for being
flattered! "I'm glad you said our , because he's not my master," she yelled.
They were complimenting her on her damned vagina, after all. In
their eyes that was all she was.
"You pleasure him give," they insisted
politely.
"A knife in the gut, that's what I'll
give him if he touches me again!"
They merely smiled and nodded. Amanda
sat up and swung her legs off the padded table, but she could not
get far. One of them still held the end of her chain.
Frustrated, she reached up and felt
the bronze collar. She had a feeling this wasn't the sort of ring
Beyonce had in mind when she sang about putting one on
"it".
* * * *
He had just begun to get impatient
when they brought her to him. Laid on a couch, he was enjoying a
gustatio of eggs, fish, bread, cheese and olives, but by far his
most anticipated course this evening was the virgin.
And she was even more beautiful than
he had realized before. Now, with the blue paint and the dirt
washed off her, she glowed as if a ray of sun swept down through
those grey, gloomy clouds and touched her. The slave master had
dressed her in a short toga of diaphanous cloth, but Marcus wanted
her naked. He gestured briskly with one hand and the garment was
instantly removed.
Much to his amusement, the woman
covered her pubic mound with one hand and her breasts with the
other.
"Why do you hide your beauty?" he
demanded, sitting up. "Your body is lush treasure for my eyes. Yet
you act as if you are ashamed to show it."
"Lush?" she snapped. "Is that what you
call it?"
"You do not like this word, Feral
Princess?"
"Most people would say plump, or
chubby."
"And you like these words
better?"
She looked confused, irritated. He was
trying to understand her, but it seemed as if his attempt only
annoyed her more.
Marcus beckoned and the slave-master
led her to him, then handed her chain over. "The virgin slave has
been cleansed, master, as you desired."
"Excellent." His balls were heavy, his
shaft already hardened again, as he admired his new possession. Her
quim was blush pink, her belly softly rounded, her breasts two
splendidly full pears with rosy, tantalizing nipples. She held her
head high, but with anger still. "And I shall call her...Axa." It
seemed fitting, he mused, for she was certainly warlike.
"My name," she shouted, "is Amanda
Adams."
"Whatever your tribe called you before
this, now you are Axa. Axa Cassius." He would make her understand
that she was his now and therefore whatever her life was before he
found her, that was gone. "Sit." With his free hand he pointed to
the ground at his feet. "I shall explain to you the duties of my
bed slave."
"Bed slave?" Her eyes widened and then
she covered them with both hands, shaking her head so that the
chain rattled. "This is madness. I have to wake up. Oh, god, I have
to wake up!"
He jerked on her leash and she
stumbled, hands going to her collar.
"Sit," he barked, for she tried his
patience. He began to fear she might be mad, touched in the brain.
One never could tell with these natives. "Kneel at my feet, Axa. Or
Flavian, my slave-master, will use the flagellum." He didn't want
her skin marked, but he had to threaten her regardless, or else