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Bethan ached all over. Rufus had assisted her throughout the long ride, ensuring she had plenty to drink and eat from their meagre supplies. They’d rested the horse several times, which was necessary given the terrain.
Arriving in Luguvalium shortly before dusk, they attracted attention, which was hardly surprising. Her two companions were very different in bearing to the local population. They towered over most men, including the Roman soldiers who guarded the town walls. While the men muttered to each other, the women giggled and waved. It was so apparent that Felix and Rufus were special warriors. Bethan held up her chin and walked alongside the men as if she was as free as them. She wasn’t of course, and her sore bottom was a testament to that lie.
Felix secured a room at a tavern. “A decent bed for tonight. We’ve spent many a night under the stars since we left Rome, but this one won’t be as comfortable as Atticus’s guest quarters.” He paid the innkeeper and stabled the horses behind the building.
She helped them carry their bundles inside the tavern. There were two beds in the room with straw mattresses and blankets. She gathered up some loose straw on the floor and began to make a nest for herself by the wall. She’d never slept on a bed in her life.
Rufus and Felix removed their sword belts—the scabbards empty since they’d deposited their weapons with the gatehouse. The town had a garrison and swords were forbidden inside the walls. She watched transfixed as they stripped off the leather guards around their shins—greaves, they called them—and the padding protecting their wrists. Both men wore cloth tunics beneath the protective leather breastplates, which were strapped around their backs and shoulders, and the long straps of the battle skirts. They helped each other without speaking, as if they’d always done this ritual every time they undressed. She hoped they might remove their tunics and reveal their loincloths, but no, she wasn’t that fortunate. Her own modesty was maintained by her ankle-length tunic, the stola, which she drew tight to her waist with a thin belt.
The disrobing was a thrilling interlude in their journey and one she could happily watch over and over. She, a lowly maid from a small settlement, witnessing those grand specimens of masculinity bathe their toned bodies and prune their beards and moustaches using small clippers. They washed their faces in the water she’d brought in a bucket from the well.
“I need to bathe,” she said when they’d finished.
“Then do so,” said Felix kindly.
“But…” She had no privacy.
Felix cocked his head at his companion. “You are mine now, little slave. There is nothing of you that I shouldn’t see. Strip and bathe. A thorough washing. I don’t care for grubby slaves.”
She glared in disgust. “I’m not dirty.”
Rufus grinned. “No, indeed, you appear not to be. However, Felix is your master and if he wishes you to cleanse yourself, you shall do so. Now.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t want—”
“It is not a question of what you want, girl,” said Felix with a raised eyebrow and a sharper tone. “Do you wish to feel my firm hand again?”
She shook her head. She’d no choice but to obey him. Bending over, she lifted the hem of her skirt and shimmed it over her shoulders and head. She was bare beneath. Turning to one side, so that her bush was hidden, she dipped the sponge in the bucket and scooped up the water. She dowsed it over her breasts.
The shame of it! Her nipples had turned into purple pebbles. And to make matters worse, she felt a different kind of wetness forming between her legs. While she dripped water over her belly, Felix lounged across his bed and watched her. He seemed bemused by her nervousness. As for Rufus, the younger man once again ogled her with wide eyes and unsuppressed enthusiasm.
“Turn and bend,” Felix said sternly.
She couldn’t resist that voice and although her knees wobbled and her skin was covered in goose bumps, she complied. She showed him her arse and the very cheeks he’d spanked the day before. Slowly, she lowered her head.
“Good girl. Now part those fine thighs of yours and wipe the sponge between them.”
Both men were now hidden behind a curtain of her hair. Were they laughing at her? Winking at each other?
“Do it,” Felix commanded.
Her hands shook as she squeezed out the sponge, then soaked it again in a fresh supply of water. She dabbed at her parting.
“Not good enough, Bethan. Use one hand to part your folds and the other to thoroughly cleanse yourself.” Felix continued to orchestrate her humiliation with his soft, but sternly delivered voice.
With the fingertips of her left hand, she separated her swollen folds. She couldn’t believe how puffed and warm they felt. The cold sponge brought a shiver d
own her spine as she pressed it against her slit and open pussy.
Rufus gasped with a sharp inhalation. “She’s beautiful,” he muttered.
She rubbed the sponge against her sex and to her amazement, a peculiar spike of energy erupted from the hard nub at the top of her folds. She dragged the sponge up and down, and the sensation grew stronger.
“Good girl. Keep going,” Felix said softly.
Her legs were close to giving out. “I… have… to stop,” she panted.
“No. Kneel if you must, but keep your ass up and your legs apart. Go on,” he encouraged. “A thorough cleansing will bring you great satisfaction. I wish to witness the bliss.”
