Hullo readers. This is my first attempt at an erotic story. I hope you enjoy it. Being the feedback whore that I am, I would love to see any comments or criticisms you guys have.
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Eowyn held her head high, though she was in chains. Silvery blond hair hung in damp strands against her neck, her lithe body sweaty and aching with weariness. Her clear violet eyes continuously scanned the horizon, straining to catch the first glimpse of Rome, where here fate awaited.
It had been less than a month since her village had fallen. Not even the strength of their warriors, or the wisdom of the Druid priests had been able to fight off the fierce determination of the Roman soldiers. The scouts had first spotted the armies in the clear light of early morning. Their numbers had raised clouds of dust in the still air. Eowyn shuddered to remember how she had hidden in the village storehouse with the other women in children, clutching a battered training sword in her trembling hands, listening to the slaughter outside. Their men had fought bravely, but they were outnumbered by hundreds. The Romans had swarmed over them, and within hours the village was but smoldering ruins. The soldiers had quickly discovered their hiding spots, and though they fought desperately, their collection of makeshift weapons proved a meager resistance.
The Romans wasted no time pillaging the food and treasury stores, and had bound all the young and sturdy together. From there, they were led two days south to a reinforced Roman encampment on the border of Gaul. There were a large number of captives there, destined to be sent to a life of slavery somewhere in the Provinces. At the camp, the villagers had been sorted out like livestock. Eowyn, along with two other maidens from her home, had been separated from the rest and moved to join a larger group of young women bound for Rome. She knew that she would probably never see the faces of the only people she had known again. Then, it had been a forced march steadily south, with little food, water, or rest.
Eowyn was grateful that, other than leering glances, the soldiers had let them alone. The fact that the girls were all youthful and pretty did not escape her. Virgins fetched a high price at slave auctions, especially from brothel proprietors. She inwardly cringed at the idea of that fate, but her pride would not allow her to show fear. She was a descendent of the Tuatha De Danann, not some feeble coward!
A low cry stirred her from her reverie. Ahriana, a girl from her village, had collapsed from exhaustion a few feet ahead. One of the soldiers strolled lazily towards her and nudged her with the tip of his boot. "Get up." Ahriana managed a soft moan. Her lack of response seemed to enrage the soldier. He drew back his foot, and kicked her sharply in the ribs. Without thinking, Eowyn lunged forward and punched him across the chin, splitting his lip open. The man touched his fingers to his lips, and then stared at the blood in disbelief. "You Gallic bitch!" he hissed. With that, he backhanded her, the metal plate on his gauntlet opening a gash along her temple.
Eowyn crumpled to the ground, her vision swimming. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard an arrogant voice commanding the soldier to stand down. "These little lambs are going to make us very rich men; I do not want them harmed under any circumstance. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir" came the grudging response.
The man stood over Eowyn. His breastplate was inlaid with gold, and his cloak scarlet. He was obviously a high-ranking officer. Two molten amber eyes stared down at her from an angular, sinfully handsome face. He offered his hand to her, "Can you stand?"
"I don't need your help, Roman dog!" she cursed, spitting at his fine leather boots.
He cocked an eyebrow in surprised amusement. "So you can speak Latin?"
Eowyn was about to show him just how many Latin curses she knew, but the world began to swim sickeningly, and darkness engulfed her as she lost consciousness.
When she awoke, gentle hands were wiping the blood from her face with a cool, damp cloth. She opened her eyes, wincing immediately at the dull ache in her skull. She squinted up at the softly rounded face of a young Greek man. He must have felt her tense, because he told her to relax and lay back. "My name is Lucius, I am a physician. Don't worry, I mean you no harm." He began to bandage the gash. "It looks nasty, but it's just a small cut, you'll be fine. I don't believe there's a concussion."
Eowyn eased back onto a straw pallet. They must have set up camp for the night. The doctor finished and stood. "You'll rest here for the night. Get as much sleep as you can. We arrive in Rome tomorrow, and I imagine it will be an unsettling day for you." He smiled in sympathy and patted her arm, "A bit of advice. These Romans like their women passive, so try and rein in your temper. With a face like yours, you could do well." He smiled again, before pushing aside the tent flap and ducking out.
Eowyn sat up, realizing her left ankle was chained to a peg in the ground. She struggled with the circlet and peg for a while, before giving it up as futile. There was no escape, and they would reach Rome the next day. Alone in the humid darkness of the tent, she felt a sharp longing for the crisp air and starry skies of her mountain home. She whispered fervent prayers to Morrigan, the raven warrior goddess, for courage and strength. After much tossing and turning, she drifted into a dreamless sleep, her cheeks wet with frustrated tears.
They left early in the morning, and moved at and easy pace for once. By noon, they had reached the outskirts of the city. Eowyn could not help but be awed by the vast structures of sparkling white marble. Her mouth hung open as they passed the gates and entered Rome. It was clamorous, the shouts of merchants hawking their wares mixed with the bubbling of public fountains. The air was heavily scented with dust, sweat, spices, and fragrant flowers. Even the faerie gods, the Tuatha De Danann, had not created such a monument of extravagance.
A small group of soldiers broke off from the main column, and led the girls through the roadways to a luxurious bathhouse near the centre of the city. There, they were left to the tender care of a group of gruff matrons. The girls were ushered into a steamy room with a marble bath the size of a small lake. The matrons ordered them to strip, and gathered up their travel stained clothes. Eowyn stepped down into the heated water, letting her worries fall aside for the moment, enjoying the simple pleasure of a hot bath after a long journey. She was not allowed to soak long. A woman with a stern face and firm hands settled behind her and proceeded to scrub the dirt and sweat from her skin and hair. She was pulled from the water and toweled off roughly. The woman bandaged the cut at her temple, then selected a lavender scented oil and massaged the perfume into her soft, porcelain skin. Her hair was brushed until it gleamed like captured moonlight down her back. She was draped in a short tunic of gauzy white material, and given a pair of simple leather sandals. Then she rejoined the other girls.
The soldiers had returned, and shuffled them through several deserted streets to a plain stone building near the main market square. They filed inside and were led to a room where a simple meal sat on a rough wooden table. The soldiers stepped outside and the girls were left alone.
The food was classic Roman fare, cold chicken, creamy white cheese, bread stuffed with olives and fennel, and watered wine. Some girls ate greedily, but most just picked at their plates, looking around apprehensively. They could hear the sounds of the slave auctions through the open windows, and Eowyn knew that it would soon be them on the block.
Within an hour, the first girl was led out. One by one, the room slowly emptied. The occasional distant sobbing could be heard from the direction of the market. Eowyn watched the sun set behind the grand buildings, her hopes of freedom from this madness seeming to sink with its fiery glow. Her stomach fluttered as a soldier stepped into the room, and at last gestured towards her. She stood stiffly, a defiant expression on her heart-shaped face, and allowed herself to be led out the door.
Antonius stood near the front of the crowd, watching as the next slave was brought out onto the raised stage. His fingers tightened on his purse as he recognized the slender beauty before him. Her hair gleamed silver, her violet eyes luminous as a twilight sky as she glared out at the crowd. The rosy tips of her apply sized breast jutted enticingly beneath the filmy cloth of her tunic, her creamy thighs and tender secrets scarcely concealed by its short hem. His breath quickened as he stepped forward to bid.
Eowyn stared haughtily out at the sea of faces as a fat man with oiled ringlets and an ill-fitted toga began the auction. She would not allow herself to think of what sort of brute would purchase her, or what would follow afterward. She forced herself to remain calm and aloof. Her icy mask did not slip until the bidding ended and her buyer stepped forward. It was the officer who had intervened on her behalf the day before! Her eyes widened in surprise, and she resisted as she was pulled down the stairs.
