Rome, AD 78
The Master opened the door to the balcony overlooking the city. Rome was magnificent at any time of the day, but the hours before sunset gilded the city in a warm light that made one believe in the gods. His favorite bedwarming slave was brought to him, the young Celtic girl with the sharp blue eyes, red hair, and uneasy smile that brought out his inner predator like no other. He leaned back against a small alabaster table and flicked open his tunic. He pushed the Celtic girl to her knees, firmly, not cruelly, and guided her face to his cock. She knew what he wanted her to do and she began kissing his shaft.
"Get me nice and hard, slave," he said. "But don't rush. That's not where I plan on cumming."
After he was erect he gently pushed her away and pulled her to her feet. Guiding her to the balcony, they looked out over the city for a moment, and then he unceremoniously bent her over the balcony railing and pulled up her tunic. Holding her hips, the master ravaged the young Celtic slave's ass. She whimpered as he pounded into her, even as he flattered her, telling her how pretty she was, how she was such a good girl for her master. How she was his favorite girl. A pretty sparrow. Part of her hated this. But there's a sneaking part of her that's getting louder. A flush of warmth when she catches him ogling her ass. She is becoming trained to be his little flame-haired ass slut. And liking it.
Her master has been breaking her, corrupting her, from the beginning.
She remembers. How could she ever forget? The first night he had her, he tickled her anus with his finger. At first she wasn't sure what he was doing.
But soon there was no doubting.
First a finger, then two. Oiled. Always making her cum by playing with her pussy, but always the ass-play was part of his raping her. And he understood, in his way, how enough stimulation of the right kind will tip almost any woman over the edge.
"Rub her enough, the right way...she'll release. It's inevitable. You just have to be relentless." She'd heard him boast at the baths more than once. So really, it was a short step from fucking her with her ass filled...to filling her ass when he fucked her.
That first time, he flipped her over like a toy and took her. Pinning her with his larger body as his cock pushed into her. She tried begging, but he gripped her throat from behind. Threatened to cut her. To break her fingers. Even as he squeezed off her air and made the torchlight seem to sparkle as she almost fainted.
And then he was in her, moving up and down, in and out, his hips grinding her pussy into the mattress. He gripped her throat, bit her shoulder, drew blood.
She felt it when he came. How he held inside her, his hot essence spurting into her while her own sex buzzed with urges she didn't fully understand. The fumbling boys back home never did these things. Knew these things. He flipped her onto her back. She felt his limp cock wet against her thigh. He grabbed a fistful of her red hair, forced her to look him in the eye.
"Not done with you yet, little sparrow," he rumbled.
One large hand held both of her young, slender wrists over her head. As roughly as he treated her from behind, he was suddenly gentle, surprising her. His beard tickled her throat as he used lips and tongue on her. Held her helpless. Moved down to intensely lick and suck her young swelling breasts. Her nipples grew hard under his tongue. When he bit down, the pain was exquisite.
She remembered arching her body towards him, this man who owned her, held her life. She can't help it. What he did to her...her body wanted more.
He released her arms. She was still trapped. He held her hips and lowered his face to her sex, pressed his lips to her pussy through her young teenager's bush. She'd never received like this, only given it. He savored her. Her fingers locked in his dark curls. She felt more than heard him say, "Yes!" into her pussy, even as she felt his wet cock getting harder against her leg.
And then he was atop her, his broad hairy chest pressed down against her breasts, still damp with his saliva. She felt his revitalized cock pressing against her, like a separate thing seeking entry.
It found it.
She cried out as he entered her, thrusting deep inside her and holding there a moment. Then he began a slow, gentle rhythm of in and out and in and out, every thrust of his shaft rubbing against her swollen clit.
It felt good.
In a dark corner of her mind, she heard a whisper that said, "this is your life now. You may as well enjoy it."
Or perhaps that was the master in her ear?
She felt a pressure building. She risked a look at his face and saw him smiling, a genuine smile, not cruel; pleased at the effect he's had on her. Having already cum, he can afford to take his time with her. And he did. Waves washed over her like a warm sea, following the rhythm of her pounding heart.
