Sacrifices

Part four.

The voyage from the wild tribal shores back to Britannia lasted five weeks. Marcus was sorely tempted, but decided not to take the blonde girl's virginity until he could enjoy her properly in the luxurious surroundings of his home. He wanted her waiting for him, bathed, groomed and perfumed, frightened, yet resigned, tied spread-eagle. Unlike Rachel, she was inexperienced, so he would take his time, kissing her beautiful body, licking her soft skin, until repeating what he'd done that last night in his tent, bury his face between her legs and taste her sweet juices. Then he would enter her, slowly, carefully, smiling into her eyes, and cover her mouth with his to quell the scream when he broke her hymen.

Unaware of his plans and dreams, Gro and Arn wondered why they were left alone, when they night after night could hear their master making use of his other slaves. The boy suggested that he perhaps preferred men, but his sister had read the lust in the Roman's eyes and was certain that he for some unknown reason was only waiting to use her in the way men used women. And she was not as inexperienced as Marcus thought. Only half a moon before the raid, she had been terrified to see blood seeping out between her legs. Her mother had calmed her down and, as was the custom, prepared her for what would soon happen. The male body held no secrets for her; she'd seen the men and boys of the tribe naked often enough and knew full well that the piece of meat dangling between their legs served more than one purpose. Her mother had told how it would hurt, the first time a man entered her, and made her stick a finger up the opening between her thighs to feel the blocked tunnel.

"At the next full moon your father will take you to the sacred grove".

Gro nodded, she knew that women were only allowed there once in their lives.

"But he'll cover your eyes so you can't see the place of the gods. He will bend you backward over a stone and tie your arms and legs to spread you wide to make it easier for them to enter you".

"How many?"

"Three. We don't know who they are, but guess that it is the chief, the shaman and the man they have chosen as your husband".

"Who is he?"

"Not even the man himself knows until called upon to take you, but you are very desirable, my daughter, so it will be one of the best hunters".

Gro hoped it would be the eldest son of their neighbours. He always brought home the finest game and had the right age for marriage.

"When he has spurted into you, they'll turn you on your stomach to initiate your other hole. That will hurt even worse".

"How many?", the girl asked again.

"Three, and these we know. First your father, then your eldest brother, to signify that you are leaving our family, and then your new husband, to show that he has taken complete possession of you".

"Oh!" So Arn would be among the men hurting her, but not like it, of that Gro was sure.

"But it won't be over yet. When he's done, you husband will beat you for the first time and then, my daughter, he will put his mark on you".

Gro shuddered, she knew what that meant, had seen the marks on her mother and other grown women. He would press a glowing stick into the flesh of her arse to show for all the world that she was his and his alone.

"It will be a hard night, my daughter, but it will prepare you for even worse nights, when you lie screaming in agony, giving birth".

"Will it always hurt when my husband enters me?", Gro asked. Her mother shook no.

"You'll get used to it, and not so badly after you've had your first child. If he only seldom use your other hole, that may hurt".

"Why do men beat women?"

"They have different reasons. Sometimes to punish you, if you've done something wrong. Sometimes just because they're angry, perhaps after a failed hunt".

"But father beats you before he use you, I've heard that?"

"He does that to make himself hard and ready to enter me".

"Must men always beat women before they can enter them?"

"No, most men, especially when still young, get hard as soon as you lie down and spread your legs for them. But sometimes they don't and then they may beat you. When your father was younger, he didn't need to very often, but now it's almost every time he wants me". The older woman sighed. "That is a woman's lot". She sighed again, then smiled to Gro. "And it's not always bad. To be entered by a man can be wonderful".

"How, if it hurts?"

"I can't explain, but if your husband is good, you'll soon know. And you can help him".

"How?"

Gro's mother drew her loincloth aside again, but this time to part her labia lips. "Look, you have a little nubbin here. Have you ever played with that?"

"No?"

"Try, gently. Wet your finger first".

Puzzled, the young girl reluctantly did as asked. A moment later she looked surprised at her mother. "Ooh!"

"Go on", the older woman urged with a smile.

"Ooh, aah, ooh!" Gro suddenly bent double, shivering. "What is happening. Oooh!"

"That is how you may feel when a man enters you, not always, mind you, but sometimes".

"Ooh, but it feels good!"

"Yes, it does, very good, but it depends on the man and how hard and fast he takes you. Put a finger into yourself again".

"But, but I'm wet! Am I bleeding again?"

"No, you get wet because of what you just did and that's what I wanted to show you. If you sense that your husband wants to use you, try touching yourself like that, just enough to make you wet. It makes it easier for him to enter and for you to enjoy it too".

"Yes?"

"And there's another thing you can do, if he can't get hard and wants to beat you. Try kneeling before him and take his thing into your mouth to suck on it. The men usually like that and it may spare you a beating".

The raid came that same night and Gro had watched one of the attackers raping her mother before casually cutting her throat, sneering that she was too old and dry to be of any use. Now she remembered her words and advice, wondering now how it would be when the dark one entered her, as she was sure he would, sooner or later.

The two new slaves were allowed to rest and recuperate during their first week, but Armin began training them for their new duties by trying to teach them Latin. He was surprised and pleased to find them intelligent and quick learners, who within a few weeks mastered the strange language well enough to respond to simple commands, so Thor could begin teaching them how to serve their master. It was strange for the novices, who barely had worn clothes before, to learn how to dress and undress a master, or bathe him, something almost unknown to them. But they were eager and willing and soon got the knack of it, even serving at table, another novelty. The training took place at the galley's forecastle or on shore, when the flotilla anchored for the night. Marcus occasionally watched from a distance, without comment, but apparently enjoyed what he saw, not least when the slavegirl was training a maid's duties. So did the two teachers, especially when her small hands carefully oiled their magnificent bodies before scraping them clean. Gro was shy and reluctant at first, not only had she never been that intimate with a man, but such intimacy was unknown in her tribe, where men and woman mostly led separate lives. Yet the two blond giants were unfailingly kind and patient, never scolded her, so even if the long, stiff poles between their legs frightened her, she adjusted and even that part of her work became routine.

It was harder for Arn. Brought up as he was to become a hunter and warrior, who would expect to be served by the women of the tribe, he found it humiliating and degrading to kneel in front of another man to tie up his sandals or ease on his boots. Watching the two German slaves submit and serve so willingly helped him adjust like his sister, and, as he believed, it was only a matter of time anyway, before the Sun God claimed what was His.

Armin and Thor took care keeping fit, running long distances along the shore every night and spending a couple of hours every day at the oars, working as hard as the galley slaves, but not in chains and never whipped. When Arn and his sister had regained their strength and the deep wounds left by the cruel bonds were healed, the boy took his place beside them, happy to use his body again. With their master's assent, the Germans even began teaching him how to use the short Roman sword and Armin's favourite weapon, a razor sharp throwing knife. He already knew how to handle bow and arrow or throw a spear, and was immensely proud when his teachers praised his skills. They trained every night prior to their run, as did the legionnaires and the tribune, who didn't spare himself. There was one weapon, though, no one but Armin and Thor were allowed to touch, even if Marcus itched to include the formidable thing in the armoury of his troops. The Germans had been jumping with joy when they on the first voyage North happened to find two different species of trees, and explained that only these could be used to make the bows and arrows special of their tribe. Marcus allowed them bringing a good supply back to Britannia and was surprised when shown the new weapons. They were not like any bow he'd ever seen. Those he knew of were of short to medium length and used by drawing the string to your chest. These were almost a long as a fully-grown man and the string was drawn back behind your ear. The great difference was that where ordinary bows shot an arrow a couple of hundred yards, the reach of a longbow was more than double that distance and their long arrows could penetrate a ship's planks. And if that wasn't enough, the aim was far more accurate. He had ordered his slaves to produce more of such bows and train his men with them, but for once was rebuffed. Armin explained that they were a gift from the gods to their tribe and that the revenge would be terrible and swift if any member of it ever revealed the secret to others. No threat of punishment could sway the Germans, who were certain that it would cost not only their own lives, but that of their beloved master as well, if they gave in, so Marcus resigned himself to letting his slaves keep and train with their secret weapon.

When they at last sailed up the river Thamesis, the slave siblings were well trained and thought that they'd grown used to the fantastic new world they so unexpectedly had entered. But upon arriving in Londinium they could hardly believe their own eyes. That houses could be built of stone and in two stories, that paved streets, great squares, theatres, arenas existed was almost beyond belief. And all those people milling around! The eyes of the two youngsters were nearly bursting from their sockets when they followed behind their master on his way to the proconsul's residence.

"Wait here", Marcus told them in the entrance hall before disappearing through a doorway, behind which they glimpsed a lavish garden with a fountain. They stood uncertainly by the wall, looking wide-eyed at the wall paintings and watching the constant stream of people, soldiers, clerks and slaves, who were passing by without more than a cursory glance at them.

"Who're you?"

Gro turned, surprised, and shrank back in fear, bumping into her brother. In front of them was a young woman, dressed in a long white skirt, but naked from the waist up. The youngsters stared. She was black! Completely black, from her well shaped bare feet to her voluptuous breasts and finely chiselled face. Never in their lives had they seen a being like that, nor imagined that such might exist.

"Well, who are you?" The woman looked impatiently at them.

"Tribune", Arn stammered.

"Ah, so Marcus is back?" She took a closer look at them, Gro's slim body and long blonde hair not least. "And where did he pick you up?"

Arn shook his head to indicate that he didn't understand.

"Can't even speak a civilised language, can you? Savages captured on some distant shore, I guess, to use as fuck toys". She nodded at the boy. "You, at least, or has he finally overcome his stupid distaste for girls? Marcus fucked you?"

Gro just stared.

"Argh, stupid cow! But if he has, your hide will bear marks to prove it. Let's have a look". She took a step forward and reached for the hem of Gro's short tunic. The young girl cried out in fear and her brother threw his arms around her, dragging her away.

"No, he hasn't and who gave you permission to fiddle with my slavegirl, Zosia?"

The black girl spun round to face the tribune. "Welcome, young master. So good to see you safely back from your dangerous journey".

"I asked a question!" He frowned at her.

"I, eh, no one, young master".

"I should think not! You are growing a bit too big for your boots, slavegirl! The fact that my father likes fucking you doesn't make you a free woman".

"No, young master". She curtsied. "Please forgive me, young master".

"I shall, after I've striped those boobs of yours tonight".

"Oh, please no, young master!" Her eyes widened in fear and her hands flew up to cover the prominent mounds. She hadn't forgotten how brutally Marcus could treat a girl.

"Oh, yes. Perhaps I'll even fuck your arse, or give it to Armin and Thor. Yeah, they deserve a treat. My room after dinner, slavegirl, and don't even think of running to my father to complain!"

"No, young master. Please, young master, please whip my breasts, but please, please don't give me to those two, please!" She was on the verge of tears.

"Shut up and keep your hands off my slaves in the future".

"Yes, young master, please!"

"She's just an innocent child and I want her to stay that, so no teaching her any of your dirty tricks!"

"No, young master. I shall not speak to her".

Marcus turned away, beckoning the youngsters to follow him through the atrium to the proconsul's office.

"Very nice". The older man nodded appreciatively. Marcus had made his slaves undress and display their bodies. "Have you used her, or just him?"

"Neither, so far".

"Oh!" The proconsul sent his son a worried look.

"But I'm planning to, both of them". Marcus smiled and his father's face brightened.

"So you have got back your taste for girls?"

"She's tempting, don't you think?" The young man grinned.

"Very, my son, very".

"But a virgin and I don't want to repeat the fiasco with my first girl, so perhaps I've better train a bit before deflowering her. Can I borrow Zosia tonight?"

"Of course, Marcus, of course! All you like and don't spare the whip. She's been a bit cocky lately".

"I shan't".

The older man nodded, relieved that his son at long last seemed on the way back to full recovery. "And don't forget to pound her second hole thoroughly. She's had the cheek to complain when I used it". "Really? Seems as if you've been too soft with her. But I'll take care of that with good titwhipping before Armin and Thor block out her arse".

"Do that, but do try not to ruin her completely".

Smiling grimly, Marcus promised not to, told his slaves to put on their tunics again and handed them over to his father's steward, a freed slave, with strict orders to treat them kindly and feed them well.

When he, rather late, after enjoying a sumptuous dinner with the proconsul, his deputy and the tribune commanding the legion barracked in Londinium, telling about his latest journey, entered his room, he found everything ready for a pleasant night. His German slaves were waiting for him, naked and sporting imposing erections, and a likewise naked Zosia was standing on tiptoe, widespread arms and legs tied to rings in ceiling and floor. She seemed scared to death already and began babbling as soon as she saw him. "Please, young master, please don't give me to them, please! They'll split me in two".

Marcus looked coldly at her and nodded to Armin. "Gag her!"

Grinning hugely, the German grabbed a short length of rough rope and went behind the trembling girl. "Please, young…". Her pleading stopped short when she was cleavegagged, but she kept whimpering while Marcus wrapped rope around the base of her breasts, tightening them cruelly until the sensitive mounds were pressed into the shape of two swollen, throbbing pears.

"There!" He took a step back to begin flicking and scraping at the prominent nipples with his nails. The tormented girl screamed around the gag.

"Hmm, not so cocky now, are we?" He grabbed the erect nubbins between his finders, pinching them hard and twisting them around. She screamed again and fought against her bonds.

"Or are we?" Marcus let go of the nipples and turned to grab a short whip from the bed.

"But not for long!" He raised the whip, took careful aim, and slashed brutally across her left breast. "Complaining when our master wants his pleasure, are we?" He hit the right breast.

"Quite forgetting what we are, a lowly slavegirl?" The whip danced a merry reel on the swollen mounds, while Zosia screamed herself hoarse. At last, after more than fifty lashes, he lowered the whip.

"Don't like it in the arse, do we?" He turned to the other two slaves, who'd been watching the scene, eyes gleaming with lust. "Take her down and tie her kneeling on the bed, then rape her!"

"Yes, Tribune, thank you".

The girl pleaded and protested around the cruel gag, but was too weak to resist when thrown on the bed, feet hanging over the edge and arms between her legs, wrists lashed to ankles. Armin grinned to his gigantic fellow, whose tool matched his body in size, and nodded him to go first.

They took her three times, both of them, almost splitting her bleeding arsehole and had to carry her lifeless body away when Marcus at last told them to stop. When they returned, they found their master with the whip ready and, still grinning hugely, took up the same position as the girl, side by side, and grabbing their ankles firmly. But this time there were no screams, neither when the whip buried itself deeply in the scarred flesh of their firm buttocks, nor when Marcus' cock found their love chutes, hammering relentlessly and alternating between them, until he with a shout of joy collapsed on Thor's broad back.

If the proconsul disapproved of how roughly his son had treated the black slavegirl, he kept it to himself. Being forced to abstain from using her for a few nights was after all a small price to pay for what now seemed certain: Marcus was back to normal, not only fucking women, but hurting them in the process. The young man was just as satisfied, but for a different reason, which would have troubled his father, had he known. Whipping Zosia had not aroused him. She deserved what she got, the bitch, but watching her writhing in pain, listening to her screams had left him cold and his cock limp. He could enjoy a woman without hurting her, didn't have to fear losing control and maltreat the innocent girl for whom he felt more, much more than lust. A strong boy, yes, but not her.

Marcus stayed in Londinium for a week, visiting friends, watching gladiator games at the arena, enjoying the splendid food and the dancing girls at the banquets held in his honour every evening. His new slaves were left in the capable hands of the steward and his experienced staff of slaves, who helped refining their skills as houseslaves. When it was time to move on to Aquea Sulis, the siblings, who had spent all the time within the walls of the proconsul's residence, were in for another shock. They had never seen a horse or a carriage, didn't even know what a wheel was and now Marcus took Gro with him in a light chariot and told her brother to mount a horse behind Armin. They were trembling in fear, but soon grew used to the new experience. Arn even had his first riding lesson, when Armin after a stop for lunch made him sit in front and try holding the reins.

The staff had been alerted about their young master's imminent return by messenger and had everything ready when the weary travellers arrived at nightfall. The villa was much smaller than the proconsul's residence, but built in the same style: Four wings around an atrium and with a garden running to the edge of the cliff behind the complex. Marcus nodded curtly to the houseslaves lined up at the entrance and swept in, beckoning his four travelling companions to follow. He sank down on the soft cushions of a marble bench in the atrium, stretching his legs, and Armin knelt to relieve him of his dusty boots, but his master shook no, pointing to the slavegirl. Gro timidly took Armin's place, unwound the leather straps with trembling hands and drew them off. She was just about to lower her mouth to Marcus' bare feet, when she felt a hand creeping down the neckline of her tunic. Her body went rigid and the hand continued down to cup her left breast gently. She looked up, blushing, to meet her master's gentle eyes.

"I can hardly wait".

He smiled and she squirmed when his thumb ran over her nipple, making it grow hard.

"But I will, until tomorrow".

He looked up at Armin.

"I want her well fed and rested tonight and tomorrow morning. In the afternoon you take her down to the main baths. Tell them to give her the full treatment, bath, massage, hair cut in shape, pubes plucked clean, but gently, perfumed, but no make up".

"Yes, Tribune". The German nodded.

Gro sighed when the thumb found her other nipple. She didn't know all the words, but enough to understand that tomorrow she would be taken to the sacred grove to become a woman. She wondered briefly if Arn would be there too and if the Romans followed the same rituals as her own tribe. Hopefully, her brother wouldn't have to penetrate her arse, but she would of course be whipped and marked.

"Better take her away now". Marcus' voice interrupted her string of thoughts. "Or I won't be able to control myself".

"Yes, Tribune". The giant grinned hugely. "She'll be the most delicious little packet you've ever seen, tomorrow".

Marcus cupped the girl's chin, raising her head. "And don't worry, little one, I won't hurt you".

She looked into his dark eyes, reading only tenderness. ‘Perhaps the Romans did it differently, but they did hurt women', she thought, remembering the whipmarks she'd glimpsed on other slavegirls. Armin touched her shoulder and she rose gracefully to follow him to the slaves' quarters, while her brother by a sign from their master knelt to wash his feet with his tongue.

Marcus watched the young blond slave's bobbing head. He performed the degrading task well enough, but his body language revealed his resentment. ‘You'll hate even more what I'm going to do to you tomorrow', his master thought. Arn ‘was' angry, but not at his master. His own tribe kept slaves too and slaves had to do as told, but the raid had been cowardly. Captured in a fair fight, like Armin and Thor, and made a slave, that he could accept, like the big men, but overrun like that in the middle of the night without any chance of defending himself or his family, that made him hate and despise the coast people. Yet Marcus had nothing to do with that and Arn did his very best to remember his training when the young master that night used him as bodyslave. It was the first time the boy had been that close to him and he admired the hard body, wondering about the numerous scars. ‘This is how a real warrior looks', he thought, ‘There's no shame in serving him'. But he did wonder how it would be when Marcus decided to use him, like he used his Germans. It would hurt, but he could take it, he wanted to take it, without a sound. And his master wasn't that big, not like Thor, he thought while carefully washing his cock and balls. Slender and strong it was, fitting his wiry body. It would be harder for Gro. Girls were so narrow, especially their arseholes. They were shaped like that because it gave men greater pleasure when they used them. That was what his father had told when preparing him for Gro's initiation. At least he would be spared that now, hurting her. He knew that it was necessary, to make her a proper woman, but they'd always been close, much closer than other siblings of the tribe, and he didn't want to hurt his sister.

She was waiting when Marcus dismissed him. They'd been allotted their own room. Just a simple place with two beds and a small table, but to the two youngsters, who were used to primitive huts, it seemed palatial. Gro had a light supper ready and they ate slowly, tired as they were after the day's long journey. When she'd cleared the table and taken away the plates, she returned with another two beakers of wine. They'd grown used to it by now, but seldom had more than one glass with a meal.

"Armin said that we need to relax". Gro smiled to her brother and they sipped the wine in companionable silence, until she looked directly at him.

"I'll become a woman tomorrow!"

He nodded mutely.

"It'll hurt!"

He nodded again.

"He'll beat me!"

"Men beat women", he mumbled.

"Why?"

"I don't know"

"I do!"

He looked surprised at her.

"Mother told me. They do it because it makes them hard".

"Yeah". Arn blushed. He'd often grown a raging boner on the nights they were sent outside to sleep and could hear their mother whimpering and moaning while her backside was striped, but thought that it was because he imagined his father entering her.

"But she taught me a way to make your man meat hard without beatings".

He looked questioningly at her.

"A woman can suck a man's thing and then it grows hard".

The boy blushed again.

"Is that true?"

"Yeah".

"How do you know?"

"Boys". He hesitated, looking away. "We do it too".

"Suck each others' things".

"Yeah".

"Does it feel god?"

"Yeah".

"Can I try?"

He stared at her, bereft of speech.

"So I'll know how it feels before I try sucking our master".

"You can't. You're my sister!"

"Why not? If we hadn't been captured, you'd have put your thing up my arse!"

"Yeah". He looked away.

"So why can't I suck it?"

He mutely shook no.

"Please, Arn, help me!"

Her large blue eyes were pleading, so he gave in, hauled up the hem of his tunic and spread his legs, looking stiffly at the opposite wall.

"Thank you". His sister dropped to her knees, looking at the limp piece of meat. ‘Not very big', she thought and stuck out her tongue to take a tentative lick. It jumped, right up in her face, hitting her between the eyes, and she fell back on her haunches in surprise.

"Ooh!"

Arn blushed even deeper, but didn't say anything. She looked amazed at it, now grown double in length and thickness. "Ooh!" Yes, it was going to hurt, especially in her arse. She had hardly been able to get a finger up there.

"Go on!" Arn's voice was hoarse. "Grab it and stroke it, gently, then suck it in".

She hesitated and he impatiently reached for her hand.

"Do it! It was you who asked".

His sudden vehemence scared her a bit, but she did as ordered, wondering how hard and throbbing it was when she cupped her slender hand around it.

"Suck!", he moaned and she opened her mouth, but before she could close her lips around the red and swollen head, a long spurt of grey slime shot out of the slit, hitting her in the face.

"Ooh!" Arn moaned loudly and another spurt hit her, quickly followed by a third and fourth. Gro was frozen in shock when her brother collapsed on the bed, totally spent. She raised a hand to her face, catching some of the slime and was staring at it when he mumbled: "I'm sorry".

"What is this?"

"What men put into women when they enter them. Father told me that it's what makes children".

"Ooh! So you've made a child now?"

"No, silly! I didn't enter you, did I, and it's only if I'd entered you down there". He sat back up, grinning sheepishly and pointing at her cunt.

"Ooh! So when the master puts his thing into me down there, he makes me with child?"

"Perhaps, it's not always, but you've better clean that away".

Later that night Gro lay awake, contemplating what had happened. She was sorry that Arn had spurted before she had a chance to suck him and that he'd absolutely refused to let her try again, but at least she knew a bit more about a man's thing and how it looked when ready to enter a woman. And she knew how it tasted, what they deposited in her. Neither good, nor bad, but it was well to be prepared if she got to suck their master's thing and perhaps made him spurt into her mouth. It would hurt, when he entered her, of that she was still certain, but perhaps she might have a chance to prepare herself. Her hand stole down between her legs, tentatively rubbing the little nubbin and she felt how her opening got wet almost at once. Yes, she hoped she got that chance, but at least this felt nice. The finger moved more rapidly and suddenly the world exploded as wave after wave of orgasm washed over her.

Armin took hand of her the next day, told her to rest in the sun all morning, nude, and urged her to eat a solid lunch. "You won't get any dinner", he grinned, "You're going to ‘be' the dinner".

Gro's eyes widened in shock. "Master eat me?" She was shivering in fright.

"Yes, but not in the way you think. You'll still be here tomorrow". The large German smiled reassuringly. "Promise".

Still somewhat troubled she followed him to the stables where a light carriage was waiting. He helped her up and drove to the public bathhouse, built over a spring which for thousands of years had gushed a steady stream of hot water out on the plain, until the Romans tamed it, dried the swampland and built their city.

The bath attendants took care of Gro. She was subjected to a steam bath, followed by a cold rinse, then oiled and scraped down before being led to the hot bath where she spent an hour, revelling in a luxury she didn't know existed. After that she was dried and told to lie down on the massage table. Two skilled slavegirls kneaded every muscle of her supple body and she almost fell asleep before they finished by anointing it with scented oil. It felt wonderful! Only for a few short moments, when they carefully plucked out her sparse pubic hair, did some of her fear and anxiety about the coming ordeal return. At last, another slavegirl cut and set her long blonde hair and dabbed drops of perfume at her neck, between her breasts, above her pubic mound and on the soles of her feet. She was given a clean tunic and a pair of sandals to wear on the trip back.

"Magnificent!" Armin clapped his hands when she stood before him in all her glory. "Ready to be eaten!" He grinned hugely and helped her up.

"Eat?", she asked, shivering.

"Not in the way you think", he repeated.

Back at the villa he led her to a secluded spot in the garden. ‘So this is the sacred grove', she thought, looking at the flowery bushes shielding it and inhaling their fragrant scent. Placed in the middle of the clearing was, not a stone, but a bed made out of soft cushions. Armin told her to step onto them before she removed her sandals and tunic.

"Not magnificent, but mouth-watering!"

Gro blushed under his admiring scrutiny of her naked body.

"You come in me?"

The large man laughed. "I'd love to, but don't think Marcus will allow that".

"My arse?", she asked timidly.

"Not that either. I doubt that any man but our master will ever enter you. Now lie down, please, and spread your arms and legs".

She looked around and saw that four pegs had been driven into the ground at the corners of the makeshift bed. "You tie?"

"That's how Marcus wants you".

She mutely nodded her understanding and got into position, watching him wrap soft white rope around her slim wrists and ankles, then tie it to the pegs, spreading her, careful not to put a strain on her limbs. "Comfortable?", he asked, rising, and she couldn't but notice the large bulge in his pants. She tugged at her restraints, which kept her firmly in place, but didn't hurt, and nodded mutely again.

"Good! Marcus will be here shortly. Enjoy!" Armin sent her a reassuring smile and left.

Gro tried to relax, but her thoughts kept running round in circles, wondering what was about to happen, fearing pain, hoping for joy. After a while, not her master, but Thor entered the clearing, leading a naked Arn, wrists tied behind his back. ‘So my brother will enter me too, after all', she thought, ‘but why is he bound?' The German didn't say anything to her, just gruffly told Arn to kneel by her head and then left. Gro looked up at her brother's grave face. "I'm sorry", she whispered.

"What for?"

"You won't like hurting me".

"I won't, but we have no other choice, and I would have had to do it anyway, back home". His eyes were tender, and sad.

"I know", she whispered and they fell silent. There was nothing to say, only wait.

The time passed slowly, but at last they heard soft footsteps and a moment later their master appeared before them, naked and barefoot, carrying a jug and a glass. He stood for what seemed a long time, looking at the spread-eagle naked girl, occasionally sipping his wine. Gro watched him, wide-eyed and frightened. ‘His thing doesn't look too big', she thought, ‘but it isn't stiff yet, and I can't offer my mouth, tied as I am, so he'll beat me'. But he didn't carry a whip. At last he seemed to make up his mind, knelt by her feet and put down the jug and glass, then bowed over her left foot to let his tongue slide up the clean and sweet smelling sole. Gro was so surprised that she gasped and then giggled when the raspy tongue slid down again. It tickled delightfully, even if she never had worn shoes and the hide was thick and hard. Marcus looked up briefly, smiled teasingly, and went for her other foot. Then be began sucking on her toes one by one until he reached the small toe on her left foot and began licking up her leg. He took a long time, kissing and licking up her body, every inch of it, except her breasts and her sex, and by the time he reached her ears and finished by kissing her eyelids softly, she was shivering, not in fright, but in lust. He hadn't spoken a word yet, but now his head was hovering over her. "You are beautiful", he whispered and kissed her lips, first just a feather-light touch, but gradually harder, until they parted and she felt his tongue enter her mouth.

When the long kiss finally ended, Gro was reduced to a writhing mass of quivering flesh, barely conscious about what was happening. Her brother had been looking on in wonder, his cock so hard that it almost hurt. He had never imagined, let alone seen a man do such things to a woman. It was shameful! He should dominate, not worship her. But did his sister enjoy it! She'd even peed! Her crotch was dripping wet. He looked away, ashamed.

Marcus rose and Gro saw that his thing had grown. It seemed huge, but no longer frightening. On the contrary, she could hardly wait to feel it enter her itching tunnel. But her master had not reached that point yet. He poured himself another glass and came back to stand looking at her, teasingly, she thought, then knelt, took a long sip and bowed over her again to seek her mouth. She willingly parted her lips and got, not a tongue but a dribble of wine. He was sharing it with her! When the glass was empty, he set it aside and began his tantalising kissing and licking again, this time targeting her breasts. Covered them in little kisses, flicked her hard nipples with his tongue, bit them gently. And then he moved down her stomach, stuck his tongue into her navel and, at long, long last, reached her pussy. He had hardly touched the little nubbin before she exploded, crying out and straining against her bonds. Arn looked alarmed at her, but soon realised that it wasn't pain that made her scream. His master raised his head briefly and their eyes locked and stayed so while Marcus slowly rose on his arms and manoeuvred himself into position between the only half-conscious girl's legs. She sighed and involuntarily raised her hips, when she felt his cock at the entrance to her tunnel. It went in, slowly, ever so slowly, and the fire in her loins was rekindled when he slid halfway out, in again, a little further up, met resistance, withdrew a bit and then came back, forcefully, to break the barrier. Gro's eyes flew open and she felt a short stab of pain, but soon forgot about it when he began sliding in and out of her. Long, slow strokes at first, but the tempo increased until he was hammering her with all of his strength, moaning with lust. She was meeting him, thrusting up her pelvis, babbling incoherently in her own language, pleading with him to do her faster, harder, until she with a high pitched scream disappeared into a violent orgasm and he joined her, bellowing and shooting his load over the entrance to her womb.

Arn was breathing heavily, staring wide-eyed at the two limp bodies entwined in front of him, oblivious of the fact that he had shot his own load all over his stomach. Everything he'd been taught about the relationship between men and women was wrong, he realised, this was how to couple, not in pain and fear, but in mutual joy and lust. Looking into his master's eyes throughout their lovemaking, it was almost as if it was his cock that had made her sister scream and plead in words that only he understood. Marcus stirred and heaved himself upright, disengaging from the wet embrace with a soft plop. He kissed Gro's flat stomach softly and got to his feet, a bit unsteadily, to walk around her prone body, soft cock swinging. "Clean me", he ordered her brother, presenting it in front of his face. Arn looked up, uncertain about the order, and his master repeated: "Clean me", touching the slimy meat to his mouth. The boy almost puked on the spot, but reluctantly stuck out his tongue to lick away the mixture of sperm and his sister's blood and love juices. Marcus jutted his pelvis forward, forcing his cock into the slave's mouth, and Arn closed his lips around it, sucking until his master withdrew the now sparkling clean tool. "Now her", he ordered, nodding towards the still only half-conscious girl. This time Arn understood the message and didn't hesitate to shuffle round his sister on his knees, bowing between her widespread legs to lap up the copious amount of juices seeping out of her no longer virgin hole, tasting her blood.

Marcus looked on, smiling tenderly and sipping another glass of wine. "Enough", he ordered, "Move back", when the girl began to stir, mumbling feeble protests. Arn crept away and her lover knelt to untie first her ankles, then her wrists, kissing the rope burns. He sat down on the cushions, helped her up to lean against his damp chest, cradling her still shivering body, and held the glass to her lips. She drank deeply and craned her neck to look into her master's eyes, reading love, but not the same kind of love she'd seen in her mother's or brother's eyes. This went deeper, much deeper, and her post-orgasmic bliss was replaced by feelings she'd never experienced before, feelings that make her warm all over. She felt safe and secure like never before and only wanted to spend the rest of her life here, in the arms of the man who had brought her unimaginable joy.

"Bad was it?" Marcus kissed her lips softly. She shook no, unable to give words to what she felt. "It may be next time". His hand crept down her bare back to worm its way in between her arsecheeks, touching the little rosebud. "Perhaps I should spare you that?" ‘No!', she thought, and freed herself gently from his grasp, kneeling before him, forehead pressed to the cushion and arse high, wriggling invitingly.

Marcus laughed softly. "An eager little slut, aren't you? But we've better prepare that end a bit". He found a small bottle beside the bed and spread the tempting globes to anoint the puckered entrance with scented oil. Gro squealed with surprise, but soon understood what he was doing and eagerly rubbed her bum against the probing fingers. One of them slipped inside her, feeling around and rubbing oil into the tunnel, was joined by another with more oil and a third, gently opening her up. The girl was breathing heavily, obviously ready, and Marcus rose to present his tool to her brother once again.

"Make me hard!"

The kneeling and bound boy recoiled. ‘This is wrong, wrong! I can't help him hurt my sister', he thought. "Open up, slave!"

‘But, of course, I'm just a slave, we are slaves', and Arn opened his mouth to swallow the meat and suck on it, until Marcus withdrew the now stiff cock, poured oil into his hands to make it slippery and then turned to the waiting arse. This time no foreplay was needed, the girl was wet and willing when he touched the engorged head to the tightly sealed entrance. Gro moaned and tried to relax her sphincter. Her lover grabbed her hips and pressed, and, thanks to the oil, in went, first the head and then the rest of the long member, until his balls banged against her creaming sex. He rested for a moment to let the molested girl catch her breath and get used to the intruder, then began banging her ever so slowly. This time Gro felt the pain and tears were streaming down her face, but she suppressed her sobs and thrust back to meet him, trying to relax and ride with it. A hand stole down to her sex, searching for the sensitive little nubbin. When it found and began rubbing it gently, all pain disappeared as if by magic, to be replaced by those wonderful sensations she'd just experienced for the first time half an hour previously, only stronger and more intense. So soon after his first climax, Marcus lasted longer this time, and drove the girl to three screaming orgasms before he finally filled her arse with buckets of hot sperm. He let go of her hips and she collapsed, sobbing and crying, mumbling her thanks over and over again. This time Arn didn't hesitate to clean first their master, then his sister's soiled backside, even if what he had to swallow was far more loathsome than after their first coupling.

Gro lay like a discarded rag-doll on the soft cushions, completely spent and unable to move. Her master and now lover knelt beside her, turned her limp body on its back, kissed her lips softly, hefted her up in his strong arms to rise and carry her away. Arn stared after them, fighting his emotions. Their master had taken Gro, in both of her holes as it was proper, but gently, without making her suffer what girls had to suffer to become women. Was that wrong? Would it anger the Sun God even further, or would His silvery-faced sister, the protector of women, smile and make Him forget His rage? Arn found himself wishing that it were so. He didn't want to see his master hurt, even if he'd humiliated him in a way no man should be forced to accept.

Marcus carried his lovely burden to the villa's own bathhouse, where a couple of slavegirls were waiting with a tub filled with hot, scented water, to sponge down the exhausted girl and her lover. ‘Thank you, Rachel', he thought, watching the blonde beauty slowly come to life under the girls' gentle care, ‘Thank you, and welcome back'. Her large eyes fluttered open and once again they sucked him in, swallowing his soul. That they now were blue like a mountain spring, not dark as a forest pond, made no difference. His one and only love was back and this time nothing and nobody would ever make him part with her.

When they'd been bathed and dressed in clean tunics, he led his beloved to the atrium and lay down with her on the dining couch in the Roman fashion, raised on the left elbow with the woman in front of her partner, spooned up to him. A refined meal was served and he took his time, fingerfeeding both of them and sharing his wine with her, in between caressing her supple body. None of them spoke; there was no reason to say anything, to give words to their mutual feelings. After this first lovemaking their souls were joined, forever.

Arn waited in the grove, still bound, and uncertain of what to do until Armin came for him. The tall German stood for a moment, scrutinising the cushions, then lit up in a smile when he saw the bloodstains. "So he took her?", he grinned and untied his fellow slave.

Arn nodded: "Twice, front and back".

"Thought so. We heard screaming. Was it bad for her?"

Her brother shook no: "She didn't scream because it hurt".

"Not even the second time?"

"No! Perhaps at first, but he soon made her forget it".

"Did he beat her?"

"No".

"Strange, he always warms up with a flogging or caning".

"Not this time, he was so gentle. Almost too gentle. I don't think he wants to hurt her".

"He will, next time".

Arn didn't think so, but said nothing.

"What did he do to you?"

"Made me clean him, and her".

"With your mouth?"

The boy mutely nodded yes, suddenly tasting what he'd had to swallow. Armin roared with laughter.

"Now I know our tribune again, but don't you fret, boy, your reward is waiting".

With that he led his fellow back to the villa and to the room he shared with Gro. She wasn't there, but a young slavegirl was kneeling beside a table, laid with delicacies.

"Eat, drink, and enjoy yourself, boy". Armin slapped his shoulder, once again roaring with laughter.

Arn stared from the meal to the girl, who was naked and had her hands clasped behind her back, eyes demurely lowered, and up at grinning the giant.

"Sure, time to lose your virginity, just like your sister. Kind, isn't he, our master?"

"You mean that I…".

"She'll feed you and then spread her legs. Enjoy!" With that Arn was left alone with the girl.

Gro never came back to share the room with her brother. She stayed with their master, who soon made it clear that she might be a slave, but only to him. Everyone else, from the steward down to the most humble kitchen girl would treat her as mistress of the house. He seemed completely infatuated with her, hardly let her out of his sight, and never took another slave to bed, not even the Germans. Neither did he whip a slave again, leaving necessary punishments to the steward, but forbade him touching Armin and Thor, or Arn. They were left more or less to enjoy themselves; free of any duties to their master, even allowed to go on long hunting trips into the wild mountain regions to the West. During those eight months spent in Aquae Sulis, Arn grew into a man. His tutors took hand of him, refined his skills in hunting and the art of using a sword or throwing a knife with deadly precision. Only their longbows were out of bonds, even to him. And the three young men were allowed free access to the slavegirls. The Germans didn't hesitate to make full use of the offer, but, after trying out a couple of others, Arn stuck to his first girl, Gwen, a delicate, dark little creature from the Western mountains. Both of them were equally inexperienced, but soon grew comfortable with each other, in as well as out of bed.

For Gro, a primitive daughter of a wild tribe from the dark forests, the transformation was even greater. Marcus seemed determined to make a Roman lady out of her. He patiently corrected her manners, refined her Latin, even taught her to read and write. Within months she moved gracefully around, dressed in the finest of clothes, even sandals, something otherwise not allowed slaves. She knew how to eat daintily, make intelligent conversation, entertain guests, when her master proudly showed her off to people from the city or visiting friends. And she learned how to please him in bed, when they every night, most mornings too made passionate love.