The homes of the privileged Imperium - villas mostly - lined a cobblestone street in Bheketha, a town recently conquered by an angry army of gladiators and slaves risen in revolt. Now Shinatri Zaeda, of the proud, mercantilist Zaeda family, had become just another casualty of today's destruction. The town had held out for as long as possible; Shinatri's own father had been manning the walls, defending his family and many others with his life. But the town had fallen. The rebels had overrun it and Shinatri, like most of the other women and girls, had been helpless to do anything to stop it.
She now stood across the street from her own family villa, a rebel gladiator's arm draped across her shoulders. Wulfkar peered at her with curiosity. The gladiator had just traded an alluring Imperium noblewoman for this younger cunt, and though she looked the worse for wear, he thought he had made out well in the bargain. For now, though, he could see that she wasn't all there. Her eyes were distant, as if she were reliving some past nightmare all too real...
***~~***
Shinatri remembered. She remembered all too well the horror, and even when she did not think of it, like wings fluttering at the edge of a person's vision, it remained a constant presence.
She thought back to those first harrowing moments after the town's walls had been breached. She and her mother had tried to barricade themselves in their own villa. Her mother, Abanri, had told her daughter to huddle close and remain absolutely quiet. 'If we stay absolutely still, sweetheart, with any luck these awful men will take what valuables they want and leave,' she had whispered. And so they had huddled under the bed in the master bedroom, trying to be so very silent until even the sounds of their own breathing seemed deafening. Meanwhile, as the sounds from outside grew louder - raucous shouts from the victors, pitiful cries from the defeated or soon-to-be vanquished - Shinatri's heart pounded faster and faster.
She had always trusted her mother. They had as close a relationship as any mother and daughter ever had. But she suspected, no, she knew, that her mother's plan was no plan at all, that it was sheer desperation wrapped up in wishful thinking. And soon enough, the truth of that had been exposed for the naïve hope it was. There had been a loud crash. Shinatri remembered hearing wood splinter, then more crashes as what she and her mother had used to bar the doors were violently swept aside. Hands soon reached underneath the bed, pulling her and her mother out as they screeched in surprise and protest.
"What have we here?" a dark voice boomed. "Two fine pussies. I think we've found the loot we were looking for, boys." The lead man was a cruel-looking Xokothi slave. His biceps were so thick and muscular that they resembled massive tree branches, and his dark eyes glittered with horrific promise. "Strip them both. Let the younger one watch for now. I want to have a go at the sensual matron of the house."
Shinatri had struggled and shouted as three men ripped off her clothes. Meanwhile, three more brawny slaves expeditiously tore away her mother's dress and undergarments. Now Shinatri saw her mother's large, pale tits, soft and supple, exposed for all the men to admire in the waning afternoon light. Abanri, Shinatri's mother, protested loudly.
"Let us go! We are nobility. We are Imperium. You...you won't get away with this. Stop this now and you will be spared from execution!" she screeched.
Now Shinatri felt two men holding her in place. When she tried to turn her face away, they smacked her in the back of the head and growled at her to be still. But the two slaves holding her did not follow their own advice. No... while she was forced to watch her mother's unfolding rape, one man's hand slid between her legs. She stiffened as his fingers found her helpless cunt, sliding two fingers roughly inside her dryness, exploring her intimate folds as if he had every right.
"Please," Shinatri had whimpered.
"Quiet, bitch. Watch and learn from your mother. Maybe watching her display will help you juice up this pussy for me, yes?" As he said those awful words, the slave continued to caress her pussy and finger her delicate sex with impunity. Meanwhile, the other slave holding her was licking the back of her neck and cupping her right breast. He seemed to relish the feel of her soft curves. She could feel his hard cock resting against her right ass cheek, and it made her shiver.
"Listen to Jirwar. He speaks words of wisdom," the slave growled, referring to his companion. Shinatri shuddered and had no choice but to watch. Now, the other Xokothi slaves were chanting the name of their leader, this behemoth of a man, the dark-skinned and malicious-looking giant.
"Okotwe! Okotwe!"
The chant continued. Most of the slaves watched, but a few assisted at Okotwe's direction. Abanri had paler skin than her daughter and her wavy, lustrous jet-black hair fell just past the tops of her slim shoulders. Despite having a grown daughter, the slender woman still had perky tits and a youthful body. Abanri flailed as two men grabbed her by the arms and slammed her face-up onto the bed. Two more slaves grabbed her ankles and spread her legs wide.
"Hold her still, boys. My cock is about to dive deep into this sweet pussy. But first, let's see if I can turn this cunt into a flowing river..."
Shinatri gaped at her struggling, naked mother, held spread-eagled on the bed. She could see her mother's exposed cunt for a few terrible moments, and then Okotwe knelt between Abanri's legs, mercifully blocking the view. Okotwe lapped greedily at Abanri's sex. The woman shouted protests.
"NO! STOP THIS!"
Okotwe ignored her, awakening her body's unwilling responses. His tongue flicked tenderly, caressing the woman's clit just so, nipping at it, fondling it, stroking it, controlling it. Shinatri wished she could close her ears, to blot out what was unfolding and block out her mother's desperate cries. But instead she watched with resignation, heart shredded, as the slave-rapist leader had his way with her mother.
