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.