Roman Elf slave femdom

	Septimus had been sure he would win the bet. It was a sure thing! How could Maximus possibly lose to some nobody from Gaul? Apparently, missing the throw with his net and letting the fucking elf dart past his trident to swipe a gladius through his belly was how.
	And so Septimus had lost a bet for more money than he had. At four-to-one odds. Roman law was most specific on the penalty for this: Septimus's property was seized, and when that didn't cover his debt, he was to be sold into slavery. For other men, that would have meant a joyless life of accounting if they were lucky, or a nasty, brutish, short life of strenuous physical labour if they weren't. However, Septimus had been cursed since childhood with a wiry, petite frame, and an effeminate face.
	All his life, he had been pressured for sexual favours by other men, some his own age, some...not. It wouldn't have been so bad, really, if he had been able to give them what they wanted. Who doesn't want to fuck his way through life? His father, however, was adamant that no son of his was going to take it up the ass like a sissy catamite, that was an insult to their status as patricians, et cetera. Never mind that their family had frittered away all of their assets save their seats in the senate before his father was born, and that the only reason they could even afford their modest home was because he sold his vote to the highest bidder on a regular basis, his father's hollow dignity was far too precious to allow Septimus to use what the gods had given him.
	So, Septimus had grown up chaste, and hating the inconvenience his face put him to. In an attempt to reinforce his masculinity, he had grown a beard in the style of the dwarves of Athens. At least, that's what he told people. In reality, the hair on his neck was far too sparse to actually follow that style, but he had a beard, damnit.
	And now here he stood, naked but for manacles and a blindfold, while the slaver pattered on about his comely features. If my father could see me now, Septimus thought, He would die of a heart attack again. The thought was strangely comforting. When the slaver pulled his cheeks apart to showcase his hole, Septimus thought he would die of a heart attack himself, or embarrassment. The sales pitch and the bidding went on for hours. When it was over, Septimus noted dully that the price was more money than his father had ever managed to sell his vote for.
	When the blindfold was lifted from his face, Septimus was dazzled by the midday sun, and then dazzled by the exotic beauty holding his collar. The elf stood nearly five feet tall, with a face that he would have called "cute" if it didn't radiate malice. Her red hair, marking her as a gallic elf, rather than an iberian or even more exotic celt, spilled down past her shoulders, to the level of her somewhat modest chest. She smiled cruelly at him, before twitching the rope on the collar and saying, "come along then, slave, I can't spend all day showing off my purchase," With that, she started down the road at a brisk trot, her hips swaying slightly as she walked.
	As he looked at his new owner, Septimus remembered a joke his friends at the forum had tossed about anytime a pretty woman of barbarian stock happened to walk into the market. "Elf slave, what do?" Septimus mumbled as the foreign beauty led him through the busy streets. Although it was too loud for her to have possibly heard him, she suddenly jerked his leash forward and stepped up her pace, making him stumble to keep up.
	Eventually, they arrived at a large house, fit for a praetor. She led him inside before tossing his leash to another slave, this one a hatchet-faced woman of middle age and roman descent. "Scrub him clean and send him to my quarters in an hour. And get rid of that ridiculous beard." The harridan roughly dragged him to a private bath, where a trio of slaves proceeded to scrub him raw, which he thought was unpleasant until they plucked his beard, at which point a giant of an orc was summoned from the garden to step on his back while the slaves meticulously ripped out the work of eighteen months. After that, his throat was slightly bloodied and his back had a footprint on it, so the slaves scrubbed him again. At least they used wool and not pumice the second time. As she applied cosmetics to his face, the slave girl explained to him that he would have to learn to do this himself eventually, but for today his wriggling had put them behind schedule, so they'd have to teach him later.
	And then, all in a rush, they dragged him through the house and shoved him unceremoniously through a doorway into a darkened room. He was still naked, but now they had taken off his manacles at least. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw his mistress, the elf, reclining on a bed, every bit as naked as he was.
	"Who told you to look at me?" She asked softly, in a tone that made it clear she was not asking a question. As he averted his eyes, she said in the same voice, "who told you to look away?" Confused, Septimus haltingly directed his gaze to her feet. They were well-groomed, with long, delicate toes. She stood up and walked to him, slowly, confidently.
	"When we were on our way back from the auction, you said something. What was it?" She whispered to him, trailing a finger down his chest slowly. Septimus knew he was in trouble already, but if he told her the truth he could expect a ferocious beating, so he said the only thing he could. "N-nothing, mistress."
	"Is that so? Look me in the eye." He raised his head to gaze into her eyes, which were at an equal height to his own. They were startlingly green. "I said nothing, mistress" He repeated, more sure of himself.
	"Liar." She spat, suddenly pinching his nipple and twisting with more strength than he'd have thought her capable of. "Not only are you a jingoistic little pebblepushing monkey, you're a liar and a coward. But maybe I'm wrong, and you're just so stupid you forgot what you said, when you thought I couldn't hear you through the noise in the streets. Would you like me to tell you what you said?" She twisted even harder, leveraging Septimus onto the floor. "Your exact words were, 'Elf slave, what do?' A stale joke that was never funny in the first place. You make me sick." She released his nipple and shoved him onto the floor, then kicked him to make him lie on his back. "People like you are really the scum of the earth, you know. When I bought you, I thought to myself, 'a virgin in a city of human pederasts, maybe he's not all bad', but when you said that, I knew that you're only a virgin because you're so pathetic that even Romans won't have anything to do with you." She placed her foot firmly on top of his manhood. "I saw a Nubian orc doing this in one of your bordellos. I wonder if you'll get hard from it? I wouldn't be surprised, you Romans are twisted little bastards. It's strange, because you'd think that with our longer lifespans, we elves would have the more inventive bedroom practices, but no, if you want perversion, look to the humans." She grasped his dick between her toes and rubbed up and down as she talked. When he started to grow, she sneered.
	"Just what I thought. You're nothing but an animal. Look at you, lying on your back and spreading your legs like a lazy harlot. In another minute you'll probably make a mess on my nice floor. If you do I'll make you lick it up." She stroked faster and faster and kept talking, her clever toes pushing him closer to his peak at an alarming rate. Septimus had never had much stamina, and with such a beautiful woman pleasuring him even though by all rights he ought to be pleasuring her, he-
	Suddenly, Septimus' world turned into pain. His vision dimmed and his stomach roiled, and he curled into a fetal position. For the longest few seconds of his life, he didn't comprehend what had happened, all he knew was pain. Eventually, he recovered enough to realize she had stomped on his testicles with her heel.
	"Oho ho ho. Not what you expected, slave? You thought you were going to have your precious little orgasm and I wouldn't notice, huh? You're not getting to cum that easily, slave. No, no no, I have to be in a much better mood before you get that privelege." Septimus couldn't see her face, but somehow he knew she was smiling cruelly. "And speaking of me in a better mood, let's put you to some use." She grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to the edge of her bed, as he gingerly crawled to keep up with her. When they reached the bed, she sat on the edge and shoved his face into her crotch. The smell of her womanhood filled Septimus' nose as his lips brushed against her lower ones. "Get licking, slave." She commanded, and he obeyed, lapping clumsily at her crotch. "Gods, you're awful at this. I'm never paying extra for a virgin again. Focus on my clit, if you can find it." He could and did, as her button brazenly jutted from its hood. As he worked, she talked, and anytime he heard her falter or gasp between insults he tried to do what he had just done again. Eventually, they found a rhythm, as she ground her hips against his face and cooed, while he tried not to think about his aching tackle. Her moans grew louder until they peaked and she pressed his face into her quim as it dribbled fluids down his face. Just when he thought he was about to suffocate in elf vagina, she relaxed, before gripping his hair and flinging him away from her.
	"Get out." Her voice was cold, with none of the cheerful cruelty that had characterized her voice before. "Out!" Septimus stumbled out of the room, trying not to weep as his balls ached with need and bruises.