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Jack o Nine Tails story

deum_ira Jun 26th, 2015 (edited) 1,633 Never
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  1. This story is inspired by the erotic game Jack o Nine, developed by OldHuntsman, and copylefted by him. Authors typically issue warnings when a story contains some of the more extreme kinds of eroticism; the author will not do so with specificity here, because, well, this story includes a lot of them. It depicts a world in which the value of human life and dignity are quite unknown. Needless to say, anyone liable to be affected or offended by harsh stuff of any kind should read something else. The reader is duly warned. All characters depicted are 18 or older.
  2.  
  3. +++ Serpis House recording 12J0-DKI2-K2M3 +++
  4. +++ Starting playback: Ave ROMA eternal +++
  5.  
  6.         A tall figure stood straight-backed atop the wall of Eternal Rome. He was holding before him a small metal cylinder which ended in a glass eye. He held it at head-height, so the start of the recording would make him seem neither smaller nor larger than he was.
  7.         He said to the eye, "My name is Jack, and I have the honor to be the junior Patrician of House Serpis and a trainer of slaves with the Guild of that trade. Yesterday, on the fifty-ninth day of this year, I delivered into the service of his Holiness Pope Ioan XIII a slave. She was a masterpiece of my art. He accepted her into his personal guard of slave battle-nuns. As his payment he offered his munificence unto House Serpis, unto the Slavers' Guild, and unto me. Due to this success of my slave-training craft, House Serpis directed that I record my life and pursuits so that my knowledge and methods may be preserved for study. Ave."
  8.         Jack affixed the data-eye to his right temple. He was well-built but not massive. He wore black-enameled armor plate, chased with gold, and from his shoulders streamed a long velvet cloak edged with fur. His hair was blonde, long, and straight, and held behind him with a clasp. His face was clean-shaven and almost absurdly young. It was as handsome as Apollo's, with high cheekbones, an aristocratic nose and sensual lips. The eyes were the only thing that gave the lie to the absurd picture of youth and beauty: they were calculating and cold, and no one who looked in them mistook him for a young man. The face was, in fact, a testament to the surgical, genetic and magical prowess of House Serpis. The only obvious sign of the artifice were his eyes, whose irises were a plastic-looking off-white. His gaze was unsettling unless he took trouble to make it otherwise.
  9.         Behind the wall on which he stood there teemed the tight-packed hive of Eternal Rome. Outside the wall, the sickly gray mist of the Fogs stretched to the horizon. He found the calmest patch of the Fogs his augmented eyes could distinguish and memorized its location relative to the wall. He then made the long climb down and left Eternal Rome by a tiny postern gate. The House Taurus soldiers guarding it bowed low as he passed.
  10.         "Good luck, sir!" said one.
  11.         "Good hunting!" grinned another.
  12.         "Catch something pretty, sir! But not too pretty for a guardsman's wages, eh?" chuckled the Sergeant in charge. Jack laughed with him at the tired old joke. It paid to be on friendly terms with even the lowest guardsmen; they overheard the most useful things.
  13.         Out in the fog, he was presented with ten yards' visibility worth of damp, rocky ground, and a universe of fog. The fear of being fog-lost or worse was a dull ache behind his eyes – only fools and liars pretended confidence or bravery here. But he had always come back before and he kept the fear to a low thrum. Just enough to sharpen the senses.
  14.         Two hours later, halfway across the calm spot he'd scouted from the wall, he heard a faint scream. He spoke loudly for the data-eye: "Always much closer than it sounds. Fog eats noise. Fifty meters." The scream had been female, of course. The fog Fiends ate men lost in the Fogs without letting them scream.
  15.         He drew his long sword and moved forward. In forty steps the fog ahead disclosed the massive shape of a Fiend. All head and tentacles, it was moving in on a tattered form, prostrate on the ground. Jack leapt forward, his armor making no clank to betray him. The sword cleaved down in a two-handed chop, splitting the Fiend to the chine. Jack's momentum carried him on, and he twisted with practiced care as he passed the dying monster: the geysers of black blood, scalding-hot, missed him entirely.
  16.         The girl on the ground was unconscious. Jack's expert hands examined her in bare seconds – no time to do more out here. Jeans and a purple cashmere sweater, all torn up from a desperate, crawling flight from the Fiend over the rocky ground. But no major injury. Woman, not girl, on second thought; middle thirties? Very bad; the market was all for young slaves. But the face was pretty enough. Decent curves, nice tits, and shoulder length chestnut hair back in a ponytail.
  17.         Worth the effort of carrying her back.
  18.         Back to the city, through the gate, and up the sloping streets he marched, all the way to his apartment in White Town. Gleaming, straight, and spotless: White Town. The jewel atop the shitheap of Eternal Rome, with the golden Vatican shining atop it in turn. His apartment was on the second floor above a Slavers' Guild auction-house, but he had an exterior staircase of white stone. Eternal Rome was hemmed in by the great walls that kept back the Fogs and their horrors. In the honeycomb density of the city any square inch of space was slept in or farmed on. His apartment was a flat of six airy rooms: incredible luxury. A day's rent here could purchase three clean girls at a nice brothel.
  19.         His sabatons rang on the stone steps, and a head instantly appeared at the window beside the door. This was Calatia, his slave-assistant. She smiled brightly at seeing him and opened the door.
  20.         Jack passed his gaze over her as he laid his still-unconscious prize across one of the many beds. She was totally naked, not because he needed to enjoy her nudity, but rather, because clothing would have gotten in the way of her various duties. The apartment was comfortably warm, so she did not shiver. And after long training, she probably could not even remember the concept of being embarrassed at nakedness.
  21.         She was shining with health, and about nineteen years old. Jack had risen to his current position by ruthlessness and efficiency, and he was ruthless and efficient to himself as well. Most trainers chose house-slaves for beauty. Idiotic. Wasting some gorgeous but fragile thing on housework and relief? Jack chose Calatia for health and diligence. And for being just bright enough to learn all the necessary skills while he methodically excised all independent thought.
  22.         With so little space and so many slaves caught, Eternal Rome kept alive only the pretty. Plain and open-faced, Calatia was about the most average-looking slave in White Town. Her brown hair was cut short so that it could be kept behind a simple headband with a minimum of effort. She was curvy and plump, with broad hips and healthy thighs. Acres of well-scrubbed, smooth skin, kept pale by her indoor life.
  23.         Jack let the data-eye see all this without comment. A practiced eye would see the recording and know what the apparent absurdity of a Patrician keeping a plain girl as a slave-assistant meant.
  24.         Of course, the thing that any foreigner to Eternal Rome would notice first about Calatia were her breasts. These were gigantic to the point of absurdity, each larger than her head. The nipples faced somewhat downward under the massive weight. Each areola was puffy and pink, and stood a long way out, capped by a nipple the size of the last joint of her little finger. Calatia's breasts were so large that they touched to form cleavage even nude and unsupported. They dominated her chest so completely that her navel was only just visible below the lower extent of the contact between them.
  25.         In the universe outside Eternal Rome, this would be the fantasy of an undersexed teenager. In Eternal Rome, this simply meant she was implanted with the slow-release hormones necessary to enable her to provide milk to her Master, his slaves, and herself. No cow could make it through the Fogs. Eternal Rome made do with what it had, and what it had was an inexhaustible supply of female slaves.
  26.         Calatia's stomach also showed a slight bulge beneath her gigantic udders. In the universe outside Eternal Rome, this would indicate the earliest visible stage of pregnancy. In Eternal Rome, this simply meant she was implanted with a womb from a fog Harpy, enabling her to provide eggs to her Master, his slaves, and herself. These eggs were the size of her fist, and tasty. Lightly scrambled, with a little salt, Jack thought them the best eating in Eternal Rome.
  27.         Her vaginal channel was loose from the daily passage of eggs. Therefore, Calatia generally used her other holes to provide sexual relief to her Master, his slaves, and herself.  Her plain, makeup-free lips and moist tongue were well-acquainted with all the sexual organs and erogenous zones known in Eternal Rome. Her anus was left clean and pink by her diet, primarily the cum of captive fog Fiends.
  28.         The blessing and curse of Eternal Rome, these fiends gave copious and nutritious cum, on which the city's slaves survived. Jack had long thought that the fact that this cum not only provided slaves all their nutritional needs and acted as a mild aphrodisiac, but also left their mouths and rectums invitingly spotless, was a clear indication that the Fiends at least had been created not by nature, but by some intelligence. Clearly a very horny intelligence. In any case, Calatia's asshole was well-trained for sexual use. When he'd first sodomized her it had been a tiny little bud; now it was a real whore's asspussy, puffy and inviting.
  29.         Calatia, in short, was a slave physically dominated by needs. Her Master's needs, her Master's slaves' needs, and her needs. She was a very good slave and in Jack's opinion worth twenty times what her plain face would have fetched on the auction block. Other slave trainers bought milk, eggs and whores' holes. Jack had trained a slave-assistant that provided all that, so that he could spend his sparks on more important things.
  30.         Calatia was also practiced at reading her Master's whim. All this had taken only a moment's glance as he set the woman from the fogs on a bed, but she saw the interest gleam in his pale eyes. So, as Jack stood removing his own armor piece by piece, she knelt before him, quickly unstrapped the armor plate over his groin, and took his swiftly hardening member into her mouth. Her expert lips and tongue surrounded his head with warmth and wetness. He was very large, like any male resident of Eternal Rome who could afford decent medical services. Even so, once he was fully erect, Calatia swallowed him to the root with the ease of long practice.
  31.         She kept her gaze fixed on his face as she labored, deepthroating herself against him as he removed the rest of his plate. At each full penetration of her throat, she reached for his dangling scrotum with the bit of tongue she could get past his member. In her kneeling position, her massive bosom got in the way, forcing her to squash her breasts against the front of Jack's legs to allow her to get his cock all the way down her throat.
  32.         Jack was down to the padded undershirt and trousers that went under his armor, which were fine silk. Silk left no dirt or fibers behind, when driven into a wound. Easier on the surgeons, when it came to that.
  33.         Calatia slid her mouth off Jack's fundament with a delicious wet noise and knelt on the low bed. She crouched down, carefully raising her ass to the most convenient height for anal coupling with a standing Master. She reached behind herself and pulled the soft white flesh of her big buttocks apart with both hands, revealing a soft and well-used anus. She arched her back to position her rectum at the angle the Master liked best. She was already panting with need – no slave of Jack's was ever permitted to recreationally masturbate, even Calatia, and she had not yet been fucked today. She had her knees together, so she began to flex and shift her thighs to deliver as much stimulation to her clit as she could manage while still presenting herself. Finally, she let herself sink into a haze of sexual arousal, and she relaxed so completely that her anus opened into a slight gape.
  34.         She had timed it just right. Without preamble, Jack gripped her hips and thrust his member directly up her ass. He had fucked her butt so many times that it was not necessary to even spare a hand to guide himself in. He fucked her hard, right from the start. The deep oral had left him slick with saliva and he slid in and out of her rectum with ease. Calatia took it for a few strokes, and then began to hump back and forth gently, impaling herself on his dick a little harder each time. As she did, her practiced sphincter began to squeeze and relax rhythmically as well.
  35.         During the start of this energetic anal fuck, neither Jack or Calatia had taken any notice of the fact that the convenient bed onto which Calatia had knelt to receive an assfucking was also occupied by the unconscious body of Jack's prize. Personal space was simply not significant in Eternal Rome. And, in any case, the woman on the bed was a slave. Not a person. Calatia drooled slightly, immersed in a haze of anal submission. A string of her saliva left drops across the new slave's face.
  36.         Jack was in excellent physical condition, and his body was a masterpiece of grueling workouts and techno-magical improvement. Endurance was not a concern. For her part, Calatia would take his dick as long as he felt like fucking her with it. However, Jack had business to accomplish, so he pounded Calatia harder. She came for the first time after only a few percussive slaps of her buttocks against his thighs. Her well-developed asshole clenched as she did so, and Jack shot a rope of semen into her bowels. Feeling his hot cum, Calatia moaned comfortably and came again. She felt the first edge come off Jack's iron hardness, still lodged up her ass. Knowing that the Master was now temporarily finished with her, Calatia clenched her sphincter as hard as she could manage and slid her anal ring down and off Jack's cock. Best to keep as much cum off the sheets as possible.
  37.         At no time had either Jack or his slave-assistant said a word. Jack had said it all and heard it all, and did not feel dirty talk had a point, when fucking a well-trained slave who needed no further instruction or encouragement. Before going to the bathroom to wash herself inside and out, however, Calatia turned to Jack. “Thank you, Master,” she said.
  38.         As she said it, she looked him straight in the eye without any hesitation. Jack had heard girls lie every way a girl can, and seen every evasion possible in their eyes; and this one was glad her Master had just fucked her to a pair of orgasms. There were many ways to tie a slave to a master: pain, fear, and the best and most difficult, love. Calatia felt none of these. Instead, her mind had been so molded  for so long that she found serving Jack comforting and gratifying. Habit: nothing more, nothing less. A very good slave.
  39.         There was a moan from the bed.
  40.         Apparently having Calatia rutting back and forth inches over her had finally begin to bring the new slave around. Jack retrieved his boot-knife from the greave of his armor and began to cut away her shredded clothing. Like as not, he thought to himself as he worked, it's the last proper outfit she'll ever wear. Good thing too. Skin's outstanding for her age, no reason to hide it – nicely tanned, though tan lines from a decently conservative two-piece swimsuit spoiled that.
  41.         "She's coming around. Mix the usual drugs, my dear," called Jack.
  42.         Calatia was she showering hurriedly. "Yes, Master,” she said reflexively. “The Fiend's mucus from last week is very strong. Should I use a little less?"
  43.         "Do. Can't have her forgetting how to walk."
  44.         The new slave groaned and opened her eyes slowly. "Wh- wher-" she moaned.
  45.         Jack gently rested a hand on her forehead and murmured, "Shh. You're all right now. Drink this." Calatia passed him a tiny vial, and he held it to the reclining woman's lips.
  46.         The eyes flicked down to the vial and up to Jack's face. That face projected compassion and tender care; it did not hurt that it was also as handsome as a god's. With scarcely a moment's pause, the woman opened her mouth. Jack upended the vial. Three drops of the Water of Leythe fell into her. Her eyes went wide with shock and then closed again as she fell back into unconsciousness.
  47.         Jack took her pulse. "She's quite healthy. It'll only be a moment," he said over his shoulder.
  48.         From the alchemy table in the corner, Calatia was carefully adding yellow powder to a philtre, where it crackled and gave off purple smoke. "Yes Master!" she said hurriedly. She agitated the philtre with enough force that her big buttocks jiggled a little, giving her still-gaped anus a little twinge.
  49.         Jack had the philtre ready in hand when the new slave awoke once more. The Water of Leythe had been odorless, tasteless. This philtre on the other hand smelled (to Jack) like a woman's pussy-juice and smelled (to Calatia and the patient) like a man's cum. This time no encouragement was necessary; the woman drank the philtre in one thirsty gulp. Jack placed a hand on her face and looked her deep in the eyes. She gasped at the sight of him – Calatia had been right; the philtre was powerful and the resulting infatuation strong.
  50.         Jack began to run his hand comfortingly through the woman's hair, and spoke with gentle authority. "Shh, be quiet and rest. I'll tell you whatever you wish to know. Welcome to Eternal Rome. Eternal Rome is a city between worlds. The city is surrounded by the Fogs, which are where you were lost and where I found you. We do not know how people get lost in the Fogs from other places. It may be that thick fogs elsewhere lead here. Or perhaps the Fogs trap dreamers sleeping in their beds at home. Possibly the Fogs are where people who die in other worlds go after death. No matter. No one has ever left the city through the Fogs; I'm afraid you're here for good. Never mind, I will take excellent care of you until you're strong enough to move on. Now, there is something you must understand."
  51.         She looked at him, drinking up his words like a thirsty woman in a baking desert.
  52.         "It is the law of Eternal Rome that you lost your life in the Fogs. You lost it; I found it. Your life is now mine; my property. You are my slave." He spoke with a kindness born of long, long practice.
  53.         At the word 'slave' her eyes widened and she gasped, but she said nothing.
  54.         "You will take some time to become accustomed to this. I will do everything I can to help you understand. For now, know this: you must tell me the truth, slave, at all times. Do you understand me? You must be honest with me. You can be honest with me."
  55.         She nodded, in shock.
  56.         He placed his hand along the side of her face and smiled a gentle smile down at her. "Good. Good. Very good. Now tell me, what is your name?"
  57.         She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound emerged. She frowned, tried to think, and gasped in horror, "I don't – I – I don't know!" The Water of Leythe had taken her knowledge of her name. Indeed, it had left her with no specific memory at all. Words and ideas she would remember; people and places from before she took the Water, she would not.
  58.         "That's all right, my dear. Don't worry. For now, my name is Jack," he said. He put his every iota of compassion into his voice, and it was genuine, for in his slave trainer's way, he did care for this woman. "But you must call me Master."
  59.         She looked at him, mouth open.
  60.         He made a fist and pressed it to his heart. With the slightest edge of command now in his voice, he said, "Who am I? Tell me who I am."
  61.         "M-ma-master," she stuttered.
  62.         Wonderful.
  63.         "Wonderful," said Jack. "You are doing wonderfully, my dear. Here, take my hand, you should be able to stand now." She was, and she did. He led her to a shower. In Jack's apartment, no one ever had need of privacy, so the shower was simply a corner tiled in slate with a hand showerhead on a high bracket. "You've got some of that monster's blood on you; why don't you get clean," suggested Jack.
  64.         At the word 'monster' she looked at him in fear and questioning. The Water of Leythe did not destroy the memory of time spent in the Fogs. Nothing could touch any memory from the Fogs. Senile old men on their deathbeds who had forgotten how to piss could remember their first youthful trip into the Fogs with total clarity.
  65.         Sometimes Jack woke up screaming.
  66.         He said cheerfully, "Ah, I see you remember the Fiend – and you want to know about it. I have a lesson for you, my dear. If you ever have a question for me, you may – no, you must! – ask it of me. I have a great deal to teach you. Now, ask."
  67.         "What was that – thing?"
  68.         "A fog Fiend. It wanted to catch you and impregnate you with its offspring. I killed it. But there are more, thousands upon thousands more, in the Fogs. This city is the only safe place."
  69.         "I'm – I'm really your slave?" she asked. A gleam of hope – her eyes begged him to tell her it wasn't true.
  70.         "Yes, my dear, you are," he answered kindly. He turned his head fractionally toward where Calatia was standing, watching.
  71.         At the cue, Calatia spoke up. "Hon, I'm his slave too. He's a very good master. The Master is very kind and most men here aren't as nice. And slaves who don't have a master, because their masters got rid of them or because they ran away, they die, sweetheart. You're really, really lucky. Just do what he says and you'll be all right," she said. Jack winked at her, and she blew him a kiss.
  72.         "Who -" stammered the new slave.
  73.         "This is Calatia, my slave-assistant. She is a very good slave," said Jack. Fortunately, most of the physical evidence of Calatia's worth was not visible from where the new slave stood. Those questions could wait.
  74.         Jack turned back and said, "For now, just shower." And, mechanically, the slave did.
  75.         As she began to soap herself, she noticed that both Jack and Calatia were watching her. Jack was watching with warmth, but something else gleamed in his eyes; Calatia was watching with her lips parted slightly, and was starting to breathe a little hard. Jack looked her up and down with frank appraisal, while Calatia gazed hungrily at her breasts, her lips, her crotch. The slave had not really noticed her nakedness in her drugged state, but now she did all at once, with a rush of blood to her face. One hand moved to cover her womanhood and the other cradled her bosom.
  76.         For the first time, Jack's voice was cold. "Slave, you must not cover yourself."
  77.         She hesitated. But the voice and his ice-cold glance did their work and the hands came away. She blushed furiously as she washed and dried herself.
  78.         Jack dropped the chill from his voice, saying, "Good. Now, come stand right here." He pointed to the most open space in the apartment.
  79.         He began to examine her with minute thoroughness. Blushing furiously, she hung her head and stood there to be inspected. He walked around her to view every inch with professional care. He pressed a cold metal instrument against her back and chest, and commanded her to breathe deeply. At this he nodded in satisfaction – healthy and whole.
  80.         Finally, he seated himself and said, "You're fairly pretty, slave, and you have a decent body. Now I must inspect your more intimate areas. Kneel right here in front of me, and open your mouth as wide as you can."
  81.         Rebellion flared in her eyes for a moment, but it died under Jack's stare. She did as she was told, and he examined the inside of her mouth closely. "Good. Now, sit on that couch." She did. "Open your legs so I can see your pussy."
  82.         She did not.
  83.         Jack stood and stared down at her. "Slave, you must do as I say. If you do not, I will have to punish you."
  84.         She began to argue – to curse – to scream – but before much more than a single syllable got out of her, Jack had smoothly extracted a spark from his purse. Sparks were money and magical fuel both. He crushed the spark in his fist and a glow shot up his arm. With a pushing motion, he threw an angry red glow down at the slave as she made to rise. It enveloped her and vanished, but in the instant it did so, all her muscles tensed and she screamed in pain.
  85.         Pain.
  86.         It pooled behind her eyes and slowly faded as she lay on the couch sobbing. Compassion flooded Jack's voice again and he said, "Slave, I do not want to ever do that again. But if you do not obey me, I will have to. That was the least, the smallest, the weakest of my spells. Do as I say and you will never feel another. Do you understand?"
  87.         She was still crying weakly, but she nodded. Jack said, "Slave, you must respond out loud. The right way is, 'Yes, master.'"
  88.         "Yes, master."
  89.         "Now show me your pussy."
  90.         "Yes, master."
  91.         And after that she showed him her whole body, inch by inch. She only hesitated for an instant when told to stand, bend at the waist, and pull her buttocks apart so he could inspect her anus. By the end of this long, long process she had stopped crying and was even beginning to steal little glances at him again.
  92.         All through this inspection, Jack described this new slave in Slavers' Guild terminology, which Calatia noted down on a fresh page of a big leather-bound ledger. He said, "Slave appears to be in her early thirties. Five foot eight. Curvaceous." 'Curvaceous' was the seventh highest of the Guild's ten ranks in voluptuousness – from 'slim' to 'stacked.' "Approximately five pounds over Guild-standard weight for her frame. Breasts D. Skin very good. Eyes dark brown. Face moderately pretty; unusual facial features: slightly large nose, somewhat full lips. Slave is generally healthy. Hair chestnut. Hair well groomed, pubic hair waxed some time ago."
  93.         Without warning, he threw another spell at her. This one struck just over her vulva, burned horribly for an instant, and then dissipated. It left behind a gleaming symbol, just above her mons. She looked at him in mute incomprehension, and he said, "That, my dear, is my brand. It is permanent, and it means anyone who knows the brand can find you."
  94.         He returned to his recitation. "Genitalia indicate regular sexual intercourse. Vagina moderately tight. Anus tight. Unusual genital features, prominent labia, pink even when not aroused."
  95.         Now he spoke directly to the slave, saying, "Your name is Rosea." She looked at him blankly and then realized that she had been named after the appearance of her pussy. She blushed again and hung her head. Jack said, "What is your name, slave?"
  96.         "Rosea."
  97.         "The proper way to answer was 'My name is Rosea, Master.' Speak completely and clearly, and refer to me by my title."
  98.         She parroted, "My name is Rosea, Master."
  99.         "You have been good, Rosea, so now I will show you how I reward." Another spark came from the purse, to cast another another spell; this one was a light green and described a spiral in the air. Rosea cringed in terror and then gasped in shock as a pleasure-spell howled in her ears and thrummed in her core.
  100.         She orgasmed convulsively, and almost fell on her face.
  101.         "How did that feel, Rosea?" said Jack, not without humor.
  102.         "G-good." Jack looked sternly at her and she added rather desperately, "Master! It felt good, Master!"
  103.         "Good girl. Calatia, the red potion," he said. Rosea drank without protest. It was an aphrodisiac; but there was no need for Rosea to know that. The smallest details were important. Better for her to believe every ounce of arousal was her own natural feeling.
  104.         The orgasm still thundered in her head. As it cleared, a question came to her and she remembered that she was always supposed to ask Jack – n-no, Master – anything. So she said, timidly, "Master, are we going to – are we going to – are you going to – to use my ass?"
  105.         Jack grinned. "I am going to fuck you. I am going to fuck you every way you can imagine, and I am going to fuck you ways you can't imagine. But my dear, remember how hard you just came. If you are an attentive slave and work hard, you will have a – lot – of – fun. But you have had a long day. For tonight, we will confine ourselves to that pretty pink cunt of yours."
  106.         The aphrodisiac suffused her.
  107.         Her mouth fell open and a little dribble of saliva fell to the floor. For a long moment she looked down at it in horror. "I'm sorry Master!" she wailed.
  108.         "No, no, you must never be sorry for being horny, Rosea. Come now, sit on this cock." He pointed down with both index fingers. She followed them and noticed in shock that he was now fully erect. Fuck – shit – huge – she no longer cared – there was a little drop of pre-cum on his tip and she wanted it – her pussy ached for that cock, for that perfect blonde god's cock and his voice and him – he said he would fuck her – she needed him to fuck her -
  109.         She rushed over to him and wrapped herself around him in his chair, reaching for his stiff prick. Her cunt dripped with moisture but she was in too much of a rush and managed to give herself a twinge of pain as she maneuvered his member inside. Jack laughed at her – she loved his laugh – she wanted him to laugh – she wanted him to be happy – she needed -
  110.         As she hungrily rode his cock, Jack reached around and began to knead her shoulders, her back,  her buttocks. As he did, he sat up and locked lips with her. She moaned into his mouth as his expert hands rubbed her down.
  111.         Habit is like ruts in a road, the road of the mind. The more we do a thing, feel a thing, the easier it is for our wheels to fall into those same ruts in the future. As Rosea ground on Jack's cock, he gently massaged a single digit across the opening of her anus, and kissed her mouth with plenty of tongue. So the wheels of her pleasure cut new ruts to follow. She learned: sex with Jack was incredible and not in any way limited to the pussy. Or limited at all.
  112.         By the time she was spent, she could not remember how long it had been, how many times she had come, or indeed anything else. Jack's strong arms hugged her to him as she gasped for breath, limp and exhausted. He had clearly climaxed at least once, too; a lot of the stuff dribbling onto the floor below them was cum.
  113.         Jack lowered Rosea gently to the ground. Finding her sopping pussy thus available, Calatia dropped down to lave it with her lips and tongue. She ate every drop of cum she could reach. She did not stop there, but kissed and licked Rosea's cunt until Rosea found an aftershock orgasm. Rosea was too fucked out to care that she was receiving her first lesbian cunnilingus, and too fucked out to notice that Calatia was being sodomized again.
  114.         The techno-magic of House Serpis could do wonders for male endurance.
  115.         Calatia led Rosea to the shower. The slave assistant washed first her master, then herself, and finally the pliant Rosea. Slave training was usually far less intense, but Jack found that with sexually experienced slaves like Rosea, a good mind-blowing fuck that first night really put them on the right road. Calatia massaged a salve formulated to repair sun-damaged skin into Rosea's tanned areas, and a mild tanning lotion into her pale parts. Rosea was then put to bed  at last, on a bedroll next to the master bed.
  116.  
  117. THE SECOND DAY
  118.         Rosea woke slowly and naturally. The first thing she saw was Jack. He was sitting at the table with a towel about his waist, surrounded by books, ledgers and foolscap. Not a dream, she thought. Wasn't a dream.
  119.         Jack examined her waking face with close attention. The first morning of slavery often told him everything he needed to know about a slave. Either she would resist, or she would submit while planning to resist in the future, or she would submit completely. Jack spoke up after letting her stare at him, mental gears visibly turning, for a solid two minutes. “Are you hungry, Rosea?”
  120.         “Yes, Master. I'm starving.”
  121.         “Your breakfast is in the jug next to you,” he finished, and pointed. She looked. There in a red clay jug there was what looked like about a gallon of a translucent milky stuff that Rosea thought looked a lot like cum.
  122.         “M-Master! I can't drink all of that,” she wailed.
  123.         “Slave, look at me.” She did. “I will never punish you for breaking a rule you do not know. So listen closely. I am going to teach you how to do many things that you will think you cannot do. When you tell me you can't, you question my judgment.” The last words were uttered in a tone of utter coldness and Rosea quailed under his pale gaze.
  124.         “S-sorry, Master.”
  125.         No prevarication, no hesitation there at all. Just fear, obedience and infatuation. Good, thought Jack; very good. Submission. “It is all right to think you can't. Whenever you think that, you are to start trying. Now, drink that jug down. Once you raise it to your lips, don't take it away again, and don't miss a drop,” he said, and turned back to his papers.
  126.         She did it. It seemed ridiculous and impossible but she did it. The cum sort of stuck to itself and not the jar, like watery custard, so the last bit of it slid out of the jug and down her throat and left the jug totally clean and dry.
  127.         She sat there on the bedroll, swaying and belching a little.    After a while she worked up the courage to ask a question. “Master? What was that?”
  128.         “Slave, it was Fiends' cum. It's healthy and nutritious.” At this Rosea blanched with disgust and then gagged, though she managed to stop herself from vomiting. It hadn't tasted bad at all, but the thought of it still turned her stomach. Jack let her wrestle with the nausea for a while.
  129.         Finally, she gently rubbed her uncomfortably overfull stomach and asked another question. “Master, that was a lot of food. Won't I get fat?”
  130.         Jack smiled and said, “You're quite right; very good. You would, normally. But you have a lot of very hard work to do, so you'll need every calorie. That's also why you were allowed to sleep late. Normally, you will wake with Calatia, exercise vigorously, and help fix breakfast.”
  131.         “Thank you, Master.”
  132.         “You're quite welcome. But now Calatia is going to teach you how to milk her tits,” he said, and pointed her to his slave assistant.
  133.         Typically Calatia squatted in the kitchen to let her milk down and lay her eggs, with each of her nipples pointing into a bucket and her gaping pussy over a soft towel. But it was much easier with help, so she instructed Rosea to to kneel behind her. “Get nice and close to me, sweetheart. Give me a hug. Come on, a good hug. Aah,” Calatia moaned, and leaned back into Rosea's chest a little. For a good while Calatia just let Rosea hug her.
  134.         The hug pressed Rosea's breasts hard against Calatia's back. To Rosea's embarrassment she felt her nipples begin to harden in response to Calatia's softness and warmth, but the big slave-assistant made no response. Rosea remembered the night before only dimly, but hugging Calatia in the nude reminded her vividly of how it had felt, being blown by the girl she was now embracing. Slowly, Calatia's breath grew slow and relaxed.
  135.         Finally she said softly, “Okay. Now massage my boobs. Gently.” Rosea began, guessing that she had better get the whole of both breasts. Working alone, Calatia would have had to massage her own tits, and would have no hands free. Now, she steadied herself with one hand and languidly rubbed her clit with the other. Rosea blushed anew when she realized what was going on in front of her but doggedly kept kneading.
  136.         After a short time, Calatia said, “Now draw the milk forward out of my nipples.” Rosea did her best, but the poor cow twitched in pain twice before Rosea got the hang of it and the milk began to squirt into the buckets in long thin streams. After a good long milking Rosea was surprised by an absurdly sexual wet noise. It was an egg; it dropped from Calatia's big pink pussy onto the towel as the laying slave groaned softly. Finished, Calatia gently displaced Rosea's tugging hands with her own and shook a last few drops of milk into the buckets.
  137.         Seeing this, Jack said, “Rosea has a medical appointment. The Fiend's cum hasn't had time to clean her out properly and we cannot have her making an embarrassing mess at the medical center. Prepare three enema bags, please.”
  138.         Rosea was left to stand there blushing furiously while Calatia poured warm water into what looked like big IV bags. She hated blushing in front of Jack but she could not help it when he talked about her butt. Once again she found herself bent at the waist, manually spreading her butt cheeks to permit someone access to her asshole. She felt a warm finger-sized thing penetrate her, and then started with surprise at the unfamiliar sensation of a warm fluid filling her lower intestine.
  139.         Jack told her to let him know when she felt full. She did, and was rewarded with another rush of water that brought her to a state of  uncomfortable fullness. Just like the shower, the toilet in Jack's apartment was not partitioned off in any way. Rosea's blush blazed hot as she was made to hold the enema in, massage her abdomen briefly, and then pass the enema into the toilet in what seemed like a never-ending stream.
  140.         After two more warm enemas had filled Rosea's bowels and been pushed back out again, she felt a strange sensation of empty cleanliness. She found herself almost enjoying it. It felt like she was now clean in a way that she had never noticed being dirty before.
  141.         Jack commanded, "Calatia, the anal bleach. Rosea, face away from Calatia, and pull your buttocks apart for her." Rosea found herself reflexively following orders. She whimpered as Calatia massaged a stinging lotion into her pucker.
  142.          Jack said conversationally, “Slave, you showed me last night that you know the basics of vaginal intercourse. However, slaves are expected to take cock in all three of their holes. Do you understand me?”
  143.         Rosea was taken completely aback, but managed to stammer out a “Y-yes, Master” after two attempts. Calatia was gently wiping her ass with a warm cloth.
  144.         Jack continued, “Good. Now you must get dressed; we have an appointment at the medical center. You will find your clothing on this chair.” He pointed, and Rosea looked with dawning optimism – she was really getting tired of being naked –
  145.         There, on a chair next to Jack, there lay a pair of simple sandals, a plain leather collar, two plain hair ties and a gleaming, stainless steel butt plug. No panties, no bra, no jeans, no shirt, no dress -
  146.         Jack, who of course saw Rosea's dawning horror, said, “Slave, I do not find it appropriate to permit my slaves to retain their pride. I will work very hard to destroy every last bit of your shame I can find. You will not enjoy this process, but it will go much faster if you help me with it. Now, get dressed.”
  147.         Desperately doing the easiest things first, Rosea slid her feet into the sandals and gathered her hair back in two, using both ties. Then she placed the collar around her own neck, fastening it in the back; it was snug but not uncomfortable. Lastly, trembling and blushing furiously, she tried to push the head of the plug up her butt.
  148.         Jack advised her clinically. He said, “You are not an anal virgin, but I suspect in the past you just let men fuck you in the ass on special occasions. We are clearly going to have to spend some time working on your anal skills. First, lube; that plug is really very small so saliva will do fine. Hold it in your mouth for a few minutes; that will also warm it up.” Rosea overcame a small shudder of revulsion – that metal thing had just touched her asshole! – but dutifully sucked it, and was surprised to find it quite tasteless.
  149.         Jack continued, “It will be some time before you can take anything up your ass while you're standing up straight like that. Squat down as low as you can go. Relax. Now reach between your legs and insert it. Stay relaxed. Deep breath.” And it was in. After a moment's twinge as the head of the plug stretched her anal ring, she felt no pain. Nothing but a feeling of fullness back there.
  150.         She stood, a little stiffly. She tried to find a comfortable way to stand, but no matter what she did she couldn't find a position that let her take her mind off her plugged anus. Calatia had dressed Jack in his patrician's regalia while he talked Rosea through basic anal insertion; now he let her squirm for a while. Then he brusquely ordered her to follow him, walking out the door without a backward glance. She almost fell down the stairs in her hurry to follow him, and was forced to jog every few steps to keep up with his long legs. All the while, the plug worked around in her ass. She was so focused on the state of her inexperienced little hole that they got a few hundred yards down the slope toward the Serpentine Quarter before she noticed that she was, in fact, walking down a teeming city street stark naked in broad daylight.
  151.         Her hands got halfway to her vulva and breasts before she remembered the pain spell. She hastily balled her hands into fists at her sides and kept walking. As people do when embarrassed, she frantically scanned the crowd around her for anyone looking at her.
  152.         There were a lot of people looking at her.
  153.         In White Town during daylight there were more citizens on the street than slaves. White Town slave-laborers worked at night so as to leave the day nice and noble. The only slaves out in public were carefully chosen for beauty, trained for etiquette, and clothed to please the eye. Of course, Eternal Roman fashion in slave couture was such that just on this one street, one could see younger faces, perkier tits, rounder asses and tighter pussies, all bare and on display. But still there were stares.
  154.         Rosea was appalled to find that most of the lookers were not lustful, but professional. Calatia was not lying about Jack the day before, she realized. He really is the big man about town, she told herself. It was like Jack was the top trainer at the stables, and he was walking a new mare out to get her shots. Of course everybody would stare at her and him to try to figure out whether they could sell him anything he needed, or curry favor, or figure out what he was planning for her and how to profit.
  155.         Or buy her.
  156.         By the time they reached the wall that bordered White Town, Jack had gracefully demurred on  three serious offers to buy Rosea outright. One willowy noblewoman in perfect alabaster makeup had offered to buy Rosea because the slave had “simply lovely skin, Jack dear, which I must have, you know, even if it has such a silly uneven tan” which did not sound to Rosea like the painted woman intended the “lovely skin” to stay where it was. Rosea found herself keeping as close to Jack's broad, caped back as she could.
  157.         They made one stop, at a spotlessly clean salon with a sign over the door that read “Elven Laid.” There, a willowy slave with ebony skin, a gorgeous outfit, and ears altered to have pointed tips like a mythical elf's methodically waxed off every scrap of hair on Rosea's body (other than her eyebrows, eyelashes and that on her head). She then applied an ointment with an appallingly sharp odor, which she told Rosea would keep her smooth and hairless.
  158.         Jack led Rosea into a side alley, went through a locked metal door which scanned his eyes, and went down a long back hall into the Serpis medical center. She was expecting some kind of science fiction craziness but instead found herself in what seemed like a pretty normal hospital. Well, the nurses were all really young and hot and wearing those old-style nurse uniforms, with little white skirts that came down to just below the bottom of their asses and were cut on each site almost all the way up to the belt, and no buttons on the top of the tight jackets so that their tits threatened to fall out. But Rosea was starting to expect that kind of thing.
  159.         Apparently Jack was important enough that he didn't even have to wait to be seen at hospitals. He just ushered her into a little examination room and told her to lie down. Rosea did, though she saw with trepidation that the padded table was lined with wide straps. She was not reassured when Jack told her in his voice of command to strap herself down as best she could manage. She got the ankle straps in place after three tries (“Tighter, slave”) and then moved up her body. Straps went above and below the knee, around the tops of the thighs, around the hips and ribcage, and across her forehead with blocks against her ears to immobilize her head. Jack did her arms for her, and her world became limited to a view of the slate-gray ceiling.
  160.         A fat man's face, all flushed and sweaty, came into this view. He was wearing a rumpled doctor's coat, and to this pocket was clipped a hospital ID. Rosea tried to swallow and found herself dry-mouthed.
  161.         She had caught a metal glint out of the corner of one eye.
  162.         The fat doctor spoke. “Jack, my boy. Bit of a come down after that gorgeous piece you sent up the hill to the Vatican, eh? Never mind, we all have to pay the bills. So -” he read a screen on one wall “-contraceptive sterilization, eh? Lovely little implant, just drips enough juice into her so she'll never bleed or go fertile on you, reversible -”
  163.         Jack grit his teeth. Something about this prating dollop of grease had always set his teeth on edge. I know, Jack thought, more about drug implants than you do, you sloppy bastard; but that's how the guild system is. You can poke slaves with an implant gun, I can train slaves, and Fogs forbid either of us poach on the other's preserve.
  164.         The doctor put a genial hand on Jack's shoulder and winked conspiratorially. “Says on the chart she's up to get her tits done after she recovers from the sterilization. You know, I could shoot it all now. Good healthy slave like her, she can recover from both drugs at the same time. Last slave-nurse we bought off you gives the best blowjobs in the center, so it's the least I can do. OK?”
  165.         And this was why Jack put up with him. He knew his business.
  166.         Jack could see Rosea's eyes flicking around in terror as the doctor loaded the implant gun with an impressive series of mechanical clicks. The implants were tiny slow-release drug packages but had to be placed in just the right tissues for best effect. To aid placement the the gun had what looked like, and in fact was, a scope, though instead of magnifying distant objects this one provided limited medical imaging. The body of the gun, on the other hand, was charmingly similar to a normal rifle. As the doctor pulled the bolt back and into battery, this retracted the safety sleeve and unsheathed the first three inches of needle within the cage at the back of the gun.
  167.         Rosea fixed her eyes on the tip of the needle and began to pant in terror as the doctor placed the muzzle of the gun against her lower abdomen. Rosea started from the cold metal touch but closed her eyes and waited. The doctor was good; it only took a little more than a minute before he squeezed the trigger, firing the gas cartridge that drove the needle a precise distance into the flesh over Rosea's womb. The needle withdrew faster than the eye could see and clicked back into readiness. Rosea shrieked in pain and surprise, but the wound was tiny and only a little drop of blood escaped.
  168.         “Nurse.”
  169.         The slave-nurse came quickly and used her hands to hold Rosea's left breast just right for the doctor's aim. Another hiss-click-scream. Rosea quavered, “Master? Just one more shot? In the other one?”
  170.         Jack referred to the chart. “Actually, my dear, seven more.” He cleared his throat. “In that breast. Eight more in the other.” The slave began to sob quietly. Twenty minutes later, she was unconscious and smelling faintly of urine. The doctor left without much ceremony and was replaced by two nurses. These looked demurely at the ground, waiting for Jack to make a selection. One of them was there to get Rosea checked out and washed up. The other was there to offer the complimentary sexual services available at many of Eternal Rome's better establishments.
  171.         One was a pale blonde with small breasts, huge blue eyes and interesting lips. However, the other had mocha-colored skin and an undeniable ass. So large, in fact, that her slit white miniskirt was in danger of failing in its duties entirely: Jack thought he had heard it creak dangerously as the slave-nurses had come in. So, as the blonde dabbed at Rosea's puncture-marks and sponged her clean, Jack pulled the hourglass-shaped slave's skirt up to free her lovely butt.
  172.         It was amusingly difficult. So much so, in fact, that once he got it over her ass and around her waist, Jack reversed course and pulled it down and off her instead, forcing all that butt through the constricting skirt again. The slave tried to help, but only succeeded in bouncing one of her boobs out of her jacket. Finally the clumsy wrestling match ended with the slave standing there in a short jacket with one breast and her entire lower half on display. Prominent petals, Jack noticed. Even darker than her skin, a real flower, with one side quite a bit longer than the other.
  173.         Jack took the jacket by the hem and pulled it up, turning it inside out as if to pull it up and off over the slave's head. She raised her arms to help, but realized much too late that the jacket wasn't coming all the way off. With practiced efficiency Jack used the jacket to pin the slave's arms up alongside her head, securing it so that her head and arms were entirely muffled by the cloth. Unsure of what to do, the slave just stood there mutely, unable to see or use her arms at all.
  174.         He let her stand for a while and then ran a knuckle ever so gently across the protruding edge of the slave's longer labia. Deprived of even basic sensory information for so long, she started violently at the intimate touch. Jack had positioned himself to the side so as to be able to enjoy the delicious ripple the motion sent up and down all that voluptuous ass.
  175.         Before long, Jack had her sitting on a stool with her hips thrust back. His sensory game had left her dripping. Her generous petals were wet all over. He let her offer herself there for a good long while again before thrusting his cock all the way into her cunt with one long stroke. At this she finally broke and began to play the slut, squealing incoherently though the jacket and pushing herself onto him. He shoved her a little farther down into a sort of doggy position with her torso and muffled head dangling off the stool. The stool had wheels, so he took a good grip on each buttock and began to slide the whole thing, slave, ass, pussy, and stool, back and forth as he pounded her. After a while Jack wondered about the slave's climax, which did not seem to be getting any nearer; but then he found that she seemed to lose all muscular control if slapped hard across that ass as he fucked her. She came promptly and, noticing that the blonde was done with Rosea, he pulled out to leave white pearls running down his conquest's lovely dark flesh.
  176.         For the second time, Jack carried an unconscious Rosea back to his apartment and laid her across a convenient bed. He pulled the plug out of her ass and used a clinical finger to gauge its effects. Satisfied, he dipped the plug in oil and pushed it back up the slave's butt. She did not stir. Acclimating to the drugs would have her down until the next morning, so there was enough of the day left now for him to pull something profitable from the fogs. His vault at the Bank of Rome was well-filled, but rich men do not stay rich by sitting safely at home.
  177.         This time, he got only a few feet from the gate before he heard triumphant male shouts. The guards sometimes let scum from the slums bribe their way out into the Fog. This time the lucky bastards had actually managed to catch someone. They were just about finished raping her unconscious and were building a  fire when Jack came noiselessly out of the fog. Two died not even knowing what had killed them. The third lost the hand holding his cudgel, and then his head. The last tried to flee but had his pants around his ankles and only got one hopping step before the long sword split him. The girl lying half-under one of the corpses was young, very petite and olive-skinned, with pointy little breasts and long straight black hair. She had either come into the fogs naked or had been stripped. She was bruising already, all her holes had been roughly used, and her nipples had been cruelly pinched. But Jack paid less attention than usual; this one was bound for the auction block within the hour.
  178.         One of Eternal Rome's oldest laws maintained that in return for the monopoly on legal training of slaves maintained by the Slavers' Guild, its members could keep one trainee and one trainee only. So Jack bound her wrists preemptively, used one of the corpses' shirts to wipe her enough that she would not dribble on his armor, and carried her up to the auction house. He sold her to Farid, the oily auctioneer, who promptly began to pour essence of Camra down the poor girl's throat to pep her up for auction – unconscious bodies earned few bids. Jack pocketed his sparks and walked upstairs to his apartment.
  179.         Feeling rather satisfied, he elected to help Calatia with her evening milking and lay. He reclined on the kitchen floor and had her sit in his lap, with her back to his chest and his prick up her ass. He placed a couple of towels as padding between them to change the angle of his penetration so that his penis pressed hard against the eggs above her cervix. Meanwhile, the panting slave held buckets beneath her udders. Calatia enjoyed this intense attention. She twisted her head around to French-kiss her Master, so Jack took his time: over the next half hour he fucked a couple of eggs out of her and drained her heavy cow's tits of their rich cream.
  180.  
  181. THE THIRD DAY
  182.         The next morning, Rosea found herself waking up late again, naked again, in the same bedroll, to the same huge jug of Fiends' cum. Her body had been heavily drugged the day before and she was bleary and hung over. She thought groggily to herself, if I start drinking it now, I can probably take my time.
  183.         As she drank, she reviewed her situation. I'm a slave, she told herself, kept by a slave trainer (Master) in his small apartment and a slave-maid-cook-fuck toy (Calatia) who would have been a pretty average-looking big girl except for her boobs, which were the size of fucking beach balls and gave really creamy milk, and except for her huge pussy from which she laid eggs the size of fucking baseballs. There was a half-empty glass of milk next to Jack where he was working at the table, and a plate with the remnants of scrambled eggs. Rosea's stomach grumbled. Holy shit, the slave thought bleakly. That should be really fucking disgusting. But my mouth is watering.
  184.         “Calatia's milk and eggs are a very special treat,” Jack said. Oh shit, Rosea thought, he saw me staring at his breakfast leftovers. She hurriedly concentrated on her own breakfast.
  185.         As she sat there, holding the jug to her mouth and letting a the stuff slide down her throat a mouthful at a time with pauses for breath, she noticed a distinct soreness in her breasts. Carefully shifting her grip on the jug to free a hand, she gave herself an exploratory massage and found that her breasts were not only sore, but bigger than they had been yesterday. The change was small but definitely there. They also seemed to be shifting up, so that her nipples didn't point as far down as they had the day before. Her asshole also felt weirdly full. She reached back and found the stainless steel buttplug.
  186.         “What do you think, slave?” asked Jack from his work at the table. She started in surprise, dropping a blob of her breakfast onto her chest. Shit, she cursed to herself, he's really been watching me the whole time. He probably saw me try to get a head start – shit – I can't put the jug down, but I have to answer him -
  187.         He rescued her. “Slave, you may put your breakfast down and clean yourself while you answer. And in the future, unless I order you otherwise, you are to drink breakfast without dawdling and then find Calatia and assist her with whatever she is doing as soon as you awake. You will only be permitted to sleep in when you need to recover.”
  188.         She put the jug down and began to scoop at the Fiend cum running down her cleavage. She frantically thought back: he'd asked her what she thought of her boobs. “They're uh very nice, Master?” This did not seem like enough, so she added a “Thank you Master?” That seemed to satisfy him.
  189.         Once she got the cum down her stomach was painfully taut. She climbed to her feet unsteadily, conscious of her overfull stomach, her sore boobs, and a vague nonspecific soreness inside her, lower than the stomachache.
  190.         “Slave, your health is very important. You must always tell me if you are in pain.” Rosea dutifully related her symptoms, and Jack nodded. “That's all to be expected.”
  191.         She looked suddenly pensive and asked, “Are my boobs going to be like Calatia's?”
  192.         He laughed, and there was a girlish giggle from somewhere at the back of the apartment. “No, slave. The drugs only do so much, and it takes a different treatment entirely before a slave gives milk. Calatia had huge breasts even before I pulled her from the Fogs. It's one of the reasons I chose her to be my slave-assistant – she had the udders to be a real milk farm. Now, get dressed and go find her and help her with her housework.”
  193.         Rosea was already wearing her collar and plug, having slept in them, so “getting dressed” meant tying her hair back. Then she did as she was told and found Calatia. Rosea was put to mopping the floors. It seemed very strange to do something so prosaic while wearing nothing but a leather collar and a plug. Her sore breasts swung free as she worked, and though her anus was getting used to the plug she couldn't quite ignore that, either.
  194.         Calatia found fault with her work constantly, and Rosea was made to mop the floor three times before the slave-assistant was satisfied. Eventually, the floor was clean; and by then, her tits and stomach felt almost normal. To her surprise Jack praised her and rewarded her with a sort of leotard which was barely even slutty. It had a built-in sports bra that supported her breasts comfortably. The lower part nestled snugly across her pussy and up her buttcrack, leaving her hips and both buttocks exposed, but by now Rosea barely noticed. She wouldn't be naked, and that was really nice.
  195.         In twenty minutes she had forgotten all about that and would happily have stripped again if it meant she could stop exercising. Jack explained her workout program in considerable detail. He meant to enhance her curves, so she would have to work certain areas hard to ensure that all the Fiend's cum she was going to suck down would pad her in the right places. She was exercised out on the exterior staircase. Jack paid her close attention the whole time, making her do crunches until her whole abdomen burned, and then run up and down the stairs.
  196.         Rosea found his training technique impossible, inescapable: he exercised alongside her, setting the pace she was required to follow. If she fell behind, she was made to do hard calisthenics as punishment and then start what she had failed from the beginning. All the while, everything Jack had done for her sex drive over the past few days slunk around in the back of her head. Whenever she managed to catch her breath she found herself noticing the plug in her ass, or staring at the play of muscles across Jack as he worked.
  197.         As Rosea exercised next to him, Jack considered her in return. Her tan lines indicated that she had favored a pretty conservative two-piece swimsuit, and her behavior suggested that in her past life she had been sexually average for a woman her age. However, that was changing fast. Even the Fiend's cum had a mild aphrodisiac effect.
  198.         As she made it up the stairs again, gasping for breath, the smell of her sweat began to mingle with the aroma of moist pussy. The effect diminished as she became too tired for full arousal, but it was there. Finally Jack judged that she was about to fail to keep up with him due to real exhaustion and ordered her to stop. He let her get her breath back, and then made her drink Fiend's cum until her stomach was drum-taut before she showered.
  199.         After they were both clean, he fixed her eyes and said, “Slave, I see that you are horny. You are not permitted to touch yourself or otherwise bring yourself to climax unless ordered to do so. Do you understand?”
  200.         The blush again. Somehow she'd thought he didn't know. “Yes Master.”
  201.         Jack ordered her to kneel before him, and gave her a matter of fact lesson in sucking dick. Rosea found herself frustrated almost immediately. Though she could not remember the last time she had given a man a blowjob, she could not help but expect a man with the tip of his cock in her mouth to cum sooner or later. Instead, Jack just stood there and instructed like he was standing at a blackboard.
  202.         After about an hour Jack finally got her to the point where she could form a reliable seal around his shaft with her lips while massaging his frenulum with her tongue and simultaneously applying suction with her cheek muscles. He stepped back to disengage himself, and Rosea noticed for the first time that Calatia had been patiently kneeling nearby with her ass in the air for some time. Without pause, Jack turned from Rosea's mouth to Calatia's ass and fucked it vigorously. He was not gentle, and the slave-assistant grunted and groaned as he used her.
  203.         Rosea was left with nothing to do but watch her handsome master's big rod pound in and out of Calatia's asspussy. She felt as though she should find it gross, but she somehow could not look away. One of her hands drifted toward her crotch until she remembered the Master's strictures on masturbation and snatched her hand away.
  204.         Jack had switched slaves just before his climax, so the sodomy was brief. He came powerfully in Calatia's rear and pulled smoothly out. Without warning, Rosea found herself presented with her Master's half-erect penis, still slick with the remnants of her saliva and with a big glob of cum threatening to drip off the end. Jack patted one of Calatia's buttocks and said, “Rosea, a common purpose of blowjobs from a slave is to reinvigorate a man who has just climaxed, so that he may continue. Begin again.”
  205.         She did. This time the taste of his cum distracted her badly, and he responded less readily, but she managed to get him fully hard. Jack rocked his hips back and forth slightly as an added element, forcing Rosea to maintain her blowjob while keeping her mouth coordinated with the gentle humping motion. After another long lesson, Jack went back to Calatia's ass. He gave it another rough, brief fucking and filled it with a second ejaculation.
  206.         Rosea faced the half-hard cock again with a mounting sense of unreality. Does he ever finish? But she took a deep breath and started over. Maybe, just maybe, she would get to come. She was getting to the acutely uncomfortable stage of arousal. Jack knew it and patiently talked her through relaxation and breathing as he gave her a beginner's deepthroat lesson. Then he swapped slaves yet again.
  207.         Calatia's ass was very well trained, but by the end of her third anal reaming even her practiced anal ring was beginning to show the strain. With two full loads of cum inside her and a loosening sphincter, the apartment began to fill with sloppy noises. Finally Jack came again, using his hand to empty his every last drop of ejaculate into Calatia's fucked-out backdoor.
  208.         He turned to Rosea, who was watching with her mouth hanging open. He asked her conversationally, “Have you thanked Calatia?”
  209.         Rosea was dumbstruck. The first thing she thought to say was 'what for?' but that was obviously wrong and maybe even worthy of punishment. So after a gaping pause, she settle for “No, Master?”
  210.         He frowned. “While you have been sleeping these past few days, Calatia has had to work very hard. She has been cooking and cleaning while you lie in bed. I am a patrician slave trainer and I need to relieve my needs many times a day. She has also had to work hard to cover for your sexual inexperience. So, thank her.”
  211.         Calatia still had her ass in the air, but Rosea said to it, “Thank you, Calatia.”
  212.         Jack looked sadder still. “Now that's not enough. Lie down face up.” She did. “Calatia, come let Rosea thank you properly.” Rosea had only a moment to figure out what was happening before Calatia lay down on top of her, with her head down near Rosea's thighs and her pussy pressed against Rosea's face.
  213.         Somewhere in the back of Rosea's mind was discomfort at performing oral sex on a woman, but it failed to register. By now she had accepted the need to obey, though she still had to force herself into obedience. So, after a brief internal struggle, she began to awkwardly kiss Calatia's big soft cunt. It was so starved for attention that Calatia did not seem to care about Rosea's inexperience. She grunted lustly and began to hump herself back into Rosea's straining mouth.
  214.         As she did, Rosea was uncomfortably aware of the huge sweaty mass of breasts Calatia was pressing between their oppositely-arranged torsos. Rosea's vague homosexual anxiety was suddenly driven from her mind when Calatia relaxed enough that her cum-filled butthole opened and let a huge gush of cum flow out onto Rosea's face. Jack's voice: “Clean it up, slave. Clean it all up.”
  215.         She did. Calatia never stopped pressing her pussy against Rosea's gasping mouth as she choked down the cum. Rosea's eyes were riveted by the gently pulsating asspussy above her. It made lewd kissing noises as it gaped and closed with Calatia's pleasure.
  216.         From somewhere down by Rosea's knees, Calatia said breathily, “Uuh, suck my ass, Rosea. Suck out the Master's cum.” Without waiting for a reply she sat up so that her gaping anus pressed against Rosea's mouth in place of her pussy. She stopped humping and let the poor girl work at her own pace.
  217.         Rosea did nothing for a long moment but finally gave an inward shrug and kissed Calatia on the asshole. It wasn't difficult, since Calatia was sitting so that it was pressed against her mouth already. Jack however resumed the instructor role and instructed the reluctant slave to get her tongue as far up Calatia's rectum as she could manage. When Rosea had done that she was made to suck Calatia's anus, and was rewarded with most of three orgasms' worth of cum.
  218.         When Rosea was beginning to wonder if it would ever end, Calatia decided that there was no more, turned around cheerfully, and kissed Rosea full on the lips. “I like you, Rosea,” she giggled. Without warning Jack ran a knuckle along Rosea's neglected pussylips and gave her clit a little swirl. Rosea came so hard that she almost cried from the burn in her abs, which were store from the workout.
  219.         Calatia washed everyone and applied the lotions she used to even out Rosea's tan. This was the first time Rosea had been conscious and coherent for the process, and she could not help taking some pleasure in it, especially when Calatia spread her thighs and buttocks and lifted her breasts to make sure every inch of her was properly cared for.
  220.         Calatia hummed happily while she worked, and planted a wet kiss on Rosea's forehead when she was done.
  221.  
  222. THE FOURTH DAY
  223.         Rosea was woken at dawn by Calatia's gentle nudging. She drank her breakfast and massaged her sore tits. Then she “got dressed” by tying her hair back into two tails. Nothing else was necessary since she had slept with her leather collar around her neck and  a metal plug seated in her anus.
  224.         The master was out, so Calatia ran her through the expected morning's cleaning. There was a lot; the apartment was small but the Master expected that it be stripped and scrubbed every day. After that, Rosea helped Calatia with her milk and eggs, and Calatia began to teach Rosea how to make breakfasts from eggs and milk. Jack returned, ate, and told Rosea to put on her leotard.
  225.         She was beginning to dread clothing, because the only time she was permitted any was when the Master looked after her physical training. She grunted over her burning abdominal muscles, gasped up the stairs, and sweated back down them again. The master had explained that with all the cum she was drinking these punishing workouts would not make her muscular, but rather were what was necessary to ensure that she became smooth and voluptuous rather than flabby and weak.
  226.         After Calatia was showered, Jack looked after her basic sexual education. He began by working at length on Rosea's gag reflex; she was required to practice throat relaxation with a dildo and then, after some progress had been made, on Jack's cock. She was a long way from the necessary muscular control and careful breathing needed to make it safe and enjoyable to properly fuck her throat, but she managed to get him deep enough that he successfully blew a load directly down her gullet.
  227.         Then, mindful that her only training in vanilla sex thus far had been a wild fuck under the influence of a powerful aphrodisiac, Jack brought her to the master bed for an extended session of vaginal sex in the missionary position. From Jack's perspective it was the most prosaic sex he'd had in a long time, but it was necessary to work her in. Over a couple of hours they went for three slow rounds, with the slave climaxing each time. From Rosea's point of view things were pretty kinky, since every time she forgot about the anal plug she would reflexively clench her muscles back there in pleasure and give the plug a hard squeeze. Every time she came her ass would grip the plug convulsively, which she enjoyed despite a nagging thought that only sluts enjoyed that. Jack did not help her mounting sense of sexual confusion by making her exchange the plug for a larger size every time she came.
  228.         After the third time, he told her to take the plug out, and she guessed what was coming next. Not without trepidation, she tugged the plug free and then hurried to kneel on the bed like Calatia did when the Master used her asshole. Jack stopped her and spooned her on the bed instead, inserting himself into her anus gently over the course of ten minutes as he gently rubbed her pussy. He slid into her without much trouble, since the succession of plugs had ended with her ass used to a steel plug not much narrower than his cock. Jack did not fuck her at all but simply let her rectum get used to the sensation of being filled with dick.
  229.         Rosea had steeled herself for painful anal rape, and this gentle, comforting anal communion caught her completely off guard. She was in bed with a gorgeous man who was expertly stimulating her clit, and eventually she came not in spite of, but in part because of, the very large penis that was gently filling her ass. Finally he came, giving Rosea a simultaneously wonderful and very strange sensation as she felt him shoot a jet of warm ejaculate into her colon. He taught her how to self-administer a simple enema. For the first time, he did not have to remind her to plug herself.
  230.         Jack then ordered her to drink another gallon of Fiends' cum and get back into her leotard. She pulled the sweaty garment back on in dread of fresh athletic tortures. As she began, Jack told her that she would drink as much nutrition as she could hold, and work out twice a day, until he decided her body was as healthy and curvaceous as possible. She sweated diligently until after it was dark, and as she showered he smiled at her and praised her and hit her with a mild pleasure-spell that left her holding herself upright by the showerhead.
  231.         She made to crawl into her bedroll when told to get into bed, but it was gone. Jack got into the master bed and wordlessly patted the mattress next to him. Rosea was shocked and embarrassed to find herself sobbing. She choked back the tears, “undressed” (which only meant removing the hairties from her hair and the plug from her butthole) and quickly climbed into bed, putting her shoulder under his arm and resting her head on his chest. Calatia did the same as best she could on his other side, though she had to stay mostly on her back to give her udders room. She smiled at Rosea but the new slave was already asleep.
  232.  
  233. THE FIFTH DAY was like the fourth, which had seen Jack's apartment and slaves form a proper routine. In the early morning he did business while Rosea learned maid's work under Calatia. In the mid-morning and the late evening he saw to the physical development of his slave-trainee and his own athletic maintenance. Between the day's two workouts, he trained the slave's basic oral, vaginal and anal skills, with breaks devoted to introductions to the arts of seduction, foreplay, and massage. This pattern applied as well to THE SIXTH DAY and THE SEVENTH DAY.
  234.  
  235. THE EIGHTH DAY
  236.         Rosea awoke not to Calatia's gentle nudge but to the sounds of Masters' orders and slaves' labor outside the open windows. It was market-day in the square below. She felt really good for the first time she could remember in her life. Of course, her memory spanned a period of about a week, but it was a nice feeling. Her body was responding well to a nutritious diet and regular exercise, and she had gone to bed sexually satisfied and cuddled up next to the Master three nights in a row.
  237.         As she finished breakfast, she saw a full-body mirror on the wall next to her bedroll that she had been too tired to notice before. She hurriedly stood up to look herself over. Holy shit, I look like a porn star, she thought, since the Water of Leythe had not destroyed her memory of concepts like 'porn star.' Her boobs had been pretty big to start with, a week ago (though it was hard to feel that way with Calatia walking around). Yesterday they had stopped growing, and now they were disproportionately large for her frame. Her nipples had not grown at all, so they were now small compared to the rest of the breast. Her tits now looked much younger, though, since they had grown in such a way as to take up almost all their sag.
  238.         The calorie-rich diet she was being force fed was clearly going right to her hips and ass, which were distinctly plumper. Her stomach bulged a little from her having just sucked down a gallon of Fiends' cum, but she saw real toning around her stomach, waist and thighs. With her hair in twin tails and no makeup she looked like she was trying for the schoolgirl thing.
  239.         As she stood and stared at her body, she lost another little part of her self, thus far retained from her life outside Eternal Rome. She began to accept that the slut in the mirror was her, herself. This all seemed like a dream, but it wasn't, and that was finally coming home to her. Those big slutty boobs with their halfway-hard nipples in the mirror, they were hers. And so was the rest of it. And so, on the morning of her eighth day of slavery, for the first time, Rosea thought of herself as a sex slave.
  240.         The day's cleaning, cooking and hard physical exercise were the same, but her training was very different. Rosea had been taught two ways to present herself for penetration. On high beds or tables, she was to lie face up with her legs apart and back, and her hands spreading her buttocks as wide as they would go. On low beds or chairs, or on the floor, she was to kneel with her ass in the air and her face in the sheets or on the ground, hands likewise spreading herself. Jack simply ordered her to do the former – lie down and spread herself – on the Master bed, but instead of coming over and fucking her he ordered her to masturbate.
  241.         She could not remember ever having touched herself before, though she knew that she must have many times. She vaguely remembered how it was done and began to rub her pussy. After she got herself to where her vaginal muscles clenched for the first time the plug in her asshole became really distracting, so she reached around to its base with her other hand and sort of worked it around.
  242.         Just as she was on the point of orgasm, Jack came into her field of vision wearing his noble regalia and ordered her to stop. She did by reflex, but her pussy ached and her butt ached and she found herself openly thrusting her breasts out at him. To her surprise and frustration he did not seem to notice her attempt at enticement.
  243.         “Follow me, slave,” he said, and walked out the door. She followed hurriedly.
  244.         This was the second time she had left the apartment since her enslavement, but it was worse by far. When Jack had led her down to the medical center most of the people on the street had been slaves busy with their own duties or rich nobles who looked her over regally. As Jack began to browse the market, common men by the score looked her naked, blushing body over, top to bottom. They pointed to the moisture that still coated her pussy lips, whistled, made lewd comments, and openly rubbed themselves. Seeing her blush, Jack said, “I told you, slave, that you would have to lose your shame. Now, lose it.” He turned back to the alchemical ingredients he was examining.
  245.         As she stood there dumbly the open lust of all those awful men filled her with a strange sensation she could not name. It filled her so that she felt her chest would burst. To her horrified disbelief, she felt herself get wetter. A wave of heat passed down from her face to her crotch. She quivered and gave a little mewl. Hearing this, Jack dropped the powders he was haggling over and stared at her hard. “What was that, slave?” he asked in his voice of command.
  246.         “M-master!” she wailed. “I don't know! I've never felt like this. Never! All – everyone's eyes – I just – I don't know!”
  247.         He smiled the most frightening smile she had ever seen. “I think you know very well, slave. You like the stares.” He stepped toward her and whispered in her ear, “They make you wet.” He groped her ass. “You like having people see your big butt.” He lightly pinched a nipple. “You like having people see your bare tits.” He cupped her soaking pussy with a whole hand, eliciting a gasp. “You like having people see your dripping cunt!”
  248.         She said nothing. There was nothing to say. It was true, Jesus shit fuck it was true. It was so true that simply having his hand hold her crotch externally had almost brought her to orgasm.
  249.         He stepped back from her and put his fist under his chin in a thinker's pose. After brief introspection, to Rosea's complete surprise, there in the market Jack repeated the examination of her body he had performed on her first day as a slave. Finally, she saw him come to some resolution, and he stood up.
  250.         “Slave, until today, you were being trained to be a medium-grade slave-maid. You are acceptably pretty and have decent curves, but you are old for a fresh slave. So, I had intended to train you moderately. Some commoner would have paid a year's wages for you, and you would have cleaned his house, cooked his meals and sucked his dick, and maybe gotten fucked by his friends when he threw a party.”
  251.         “Now,” he said, and stepped very close to her while she trembled, totally caught up in his words. He began to gently finger fuck her. “Now, slave, things have changed. You are lucky. So very lucky, you can't imagine. If a slave in Eternal Rome has pretty lips, she finds herself getting face fucked regardless of whether she likes it. If she's got a dancer's legs, she'll dance or be whipped until she dances. If she has a nice butt, she had better hope she likes anal, because she's getting it in the ass either way. Now, exhibitionists like you, oh, you are the luckiest bitches in Eternal Rome. You get to do what makes you wet. We'll have to see what we can do with this little talent of yours. But rest assured, my dear, you get to enjoy it.”
  252.         Shivering, whimpering, she whined as he took his hand away at the last moment and denied her. Again. She blushed and cried and hugged Jack desperately, dancing from foot to foot. Finally, she slumped against him and sobbed.
  253.         Massaging her back gently, he bent to her ear and said, “Slave, it's time to see how deep this talent of yours goes.” She stared at him through her tears, uncomprehending, so he just let her go and walked off into the market. She sniffled and ran to follow.
  254.         Scattered about the marketplace were single stocks with holes to hold misbehaving slaves' heads and wrists. Their height was adjustable, with blocks or the victim's stomach and shackles for her ankles, so that her holes could be publicly accessible. The slave in the stocks Jack walked to now was a pale young redhead with a lot of freckles and a green ribbon in her dense red pubic hair. From her neck hung a sign that read DISOBEDIENT, though this was not easily visible between the legs of the scruffy man using her mouth. Another man standing behind her shoved himself past her sore pussy lips. She clearly hadn't been there long; she still had the energy to cry a little past the cock in her mouth. Behind her, a short line of market-goers waited their turn.
  255.         A pair of bored-looking House Taurus guardsmen stood watching, posted to ensure that no slave whose owner sent her to the market stocks was permanently damaged. He walked up and greeted them both cheerfully by name, and then said to Rosea, “Slave, offer each of these soldiers a blowjob. Start with the one with the silver tab on his shoulder there, he is senior.”
  256.         Rosea gaped for a moment but then squared her shoulders, balled her fists and asked the ranking man in a quavering voice, “Sir, may I give you a blowjob?” The guard grinned at Jack, who assured them he'd watch over the slave in the stocks while they were distracted.
  257.         Sexual terminology in Eternal Rome was precise. The guardsmen knew perfectly well that they were not to fuck Rosea's face. They had a pretty good time regardless, decorating her face, hair and breasts with drops of cum. Finished, she stood back up and looked expectantly at Jack.
  258.         He nodded judiciously. “Slave, you have done well. You may offer the men in line blowjobs too. Pay attention, slave. I said you may. I will not say that often, but when I do, I mean that you have a choice. Do not try to choose what I would prefer. When I say you may do something I am ordering you to choose what you want. As long as you have a dick in your mouth, you may touch yourself. We will return home now if you choose, or we can stay so you can masturbate and suck dick for as long as you like.”
  259.         She stood there with slowly drying cum on her face and struggled for a long time. Eventually, she turned to the greasy butcher next in line, and offered him a blowjob in a small voice. He was staring hungrily at the quietly weeping redhead in the stocks, however, and declined Rosea's offer rather rudely. The rejection stung her. She thought wildly that she shouldn't feel bad about about having a nasty looking man decline to put his penis in her mouth in broad daylight in the middle of a busy market, but she did. He had turned her down. And her pussy would not stop aching with need.
  260.         So she mustered her courage and asked the next man, who said yes. She could have kissed him on the mouth for that, but instead she got hurriedly to her knees and kissed him on the dick. She moaned into his cock as she rubbed herself furiously, but it wasn't enough and before long she was frigging herself with two fingers as she worked her mouth.
  261.         They spent quite a while at the stocks. Rosea sucked off five men, and brought herself to orgasm three times. As they walked back to Jack's apartment, Rosea liberally spattered with cum, the enormity of what she had just done sunk in. As it did, the guttering flame of her remaining independence sunk low. She had rubbed her clit sore, her jaw hurt, her tongue felt leathery, and even her asshole was a little stiff from clenching spasmodically around the plug every time she had come.
  262.         As she showered Jack praised her effusively and said, “Slave, your life with me is now going to change. You are healthy and horny, so we will reduce your exercise to the morning only. However, you are now a slave for sexual display and such slaves must be tough. Your holes are not properly prepared and there is no time to lose.”
  263.         As Rosea soaped the dried ejaculate out of her hair, he continued, “You have probably been sexually active for at least fifteen years, since your late teens. A woman's vagina is well-equipped to be used roughly provided it is well-lubricated, and you do not have a problem with that. On the other hand, despite your progress with basic oral, your throat is not ready for extended use, so we shall work on it. I was training your ass to provide a nice, tight fucks, but that will no longer do; your anus must be ready to safely take a rough pounding.”
  264.         He gave her a new buttplug. She almost cried at the sight of it. The narrowest part at the base where her sphincter would grip was almost the diameter of an average cock. The head was bigger still. He let her drench the plug in lubricant and squirt some up her colon, but she still had to work for a while to get it in. After that came a big dildo for her cunt, which was shaped to keep it drawn up inside her with the flared base held outside her, against her pussylips. Finally, he gave her a dildo for her throat, with straps that went around her head to keep it in place.
  265.         This last was big enough that proper relaxation and breath control was essential for Rosea to get any air. Just being stuffed full like this was difficult for her, so Jack took a few hours to relax and focus on her throat. All the exhibitionism in Rome would do her no good if she gagged or passed out as soon as someone grabbed her by the ears. The slave kept getting distracted by how full she felt down below, but as the sun went down she relaxed more and more and the toys filling her stopped seeming quite so overwhelming. Finally he cast a pleasure-spell that shook her. It took all her concentration to stay relaxed and keep breathing around the dildo in her throat while her ass and pussy convulsively squeezed their plugs.
  266.         “Come, slave, I want to show you something,” said Jack, then. He led her to a floor-length mirror and told her to offer her holes to it. After a moment's confusion she got down on the ground, facing away from it, raised her ass, and pulled her asscheeks apart. He reached down and took the dildo from her throat – she gasped in relief – and then extracted the toys from her well-stretched pussy and asshole.
  267.         Then he sat down in front of her and held a little pocket mirror in front of her face so she could see the reflection from the mirror behind her without having to turn. The mirror was small, so all she could see were the tips of her fingers spreading herself open and the holes between them. She stared, fascinated. They were gaping open, huge and whorish. She could see down into her vagina, pink walls glistening. Her anus gaped in an oval running up and down her asscrack, with the pucker around it grown huge.
  268.         “You did very well, slave,” said Jack. “Touch your holes. Get used to the feeling. You are a slave for public use now.” Using the mirror she obeyed, touching herself down there, running tentative fingers around the pink wetness of her pussy and the lewdness of her loosened asshole.
  269.         Then he used each of her holes experimentally, to gauge her progress. It went well. She accepted a brief throat fuck without trouble. Her pussy was still moist even after her long session with the toys. Finally, he turned to her ass, which had remained soft and loose while he used the other two. Good. He complimented her on her progress, got her to put the plug back into her ass, and went to bed.
  270.  
  271. THE NINTH DAY
  272.         Rosea had received special instructions before she went to sleep. She groggily awoke earlier than usual, before Calatia even, and sucked down her breakfast. She swallowed the dildo with the straps and secured it in place. Finally, she inserted the vaginal plug into her pussy, which had gotten the message from her already-stuffed rectum and was getting very wet. Then, she assumed the fetal position (which was the most comfortable with all her holes filled like this) on the foot of the bed. She watched the Master and tried to relax. It was difficult to be still and silent looking at that wonderful face. She spent long minutes tracing her gaze along the sharp lines of his high cheekbone and the aquiline dignity of his jaw.
  273.         Gradually it became light outside, and eventually Jack stirred. Seeing this, Rosea removed the dildo from her mouth, carefully leaving it within easy reach. Jack slept nude; she straddled his legs and began to slurp wetly on his cock. Calatia heard this and put down her morning work. She donned a sturdy strap-on, removed the dildo from Rosea's pussy, and began to fuck it doggy style as Rosea sucked. Once Calatia was inside, Jack put a hand behind Rosea's head and began to force her lower and lower onto his cock, thrusting gently into her mouth.
  274.         Once he was fully awake, Jack began to talk her through her next lesson. “You are being trained for the pleasure of an audience, slave,” he said. “I want you to let go of any hesitations. If something feels good, moan. If something hurts, groan. If you're enjoying a hard rut, grunt.” She tried as best she could, making whatever noises felt natural. He corrected her whenever she tried to be an actress. Instead, she was simply encouraged to break down any barriers between how she felt during sex, and any noises she made.
  275.         After a while the spit-roasted slave's throat began to tire. Jack felt it around his dick, so he pulled out, reached down, and seized the slave under her armpits. He lifted her bodily forward, her cunt making a sloppy sound as he pulled it off Calatia's phallus, until she was lying on top of him. He slid his cock easily into her pussy.
  276.         Meanwhile, both slaves were responding to the change of positions. Calatia took hold of the plug in Rosea's anus and began to pull on it gently. Rosea grunted but managed to fumble the appropriate dildo back into her throat and get it fastened. In concentrating on this, she took her mind off her anal sphincter, causing it to relax enough to free the plug with a wet pop. Calatia immediately inserted her strap-on into Rosea's rectum and caught Jack's rhythm, taking care to alternate by stuffing Rosea's ass as his cock was at its minimum insertion.
  277.         Rosea was not thinking. It was all she could do to hold on for another breath, and another, and another. She moaned shamelessly whenever she had the air. She kept doing this all through that long morning and into the afternoon, concentrating on breathing past the cock or dildo in her mouth while her other holes were either filled or fucked. Periodically Calatia took breaks to fetch hydration or apply soothing lotion to Rosea's various holes, but whenever a hole was unoccupied Rosea was required to fill it with a toy. By the midafternoon she was exhausted, and all her holes were very sore. Getting face fucked required some attention to stop from missing breaths and passing out, but she was beginning to regard her pussy as a fuck-hole rather than her intimate place she used to have sex, and her anus as a fuck-hole rather than a dirty place she used to go to the bathroom.
  278.         She had an appointment, in the Necropolis this time, so Jack carried her tired body out into the city. She loved getting carried by her Master; it meant feeling his strong arms around her and his muscular chest against her side. As Jack passed into the forbidding architecture of the Quarter of the Dead, the stares went from lustful to hungry. But she was too exhausted to notice.
  279.         The Steel Rose started her from her stupor, though. It was a shop, but a spotlessly clean shop of burnished metal and sharp points. In the foyer just inside, Jack stood Rosea up again. The first thing she noticed was a lovely white stone fountain bubbling quietly: what caught her attention was that it appeared to be full of blood. Next to it stood a young slave-girl with almost translucently pale skin and more piercings than Rosea had ever seen on a single person. They were arranged so that a deep purple ribbon woven between them gave the illusion of a corset. Rosea had almost thought the slave was wearing one before she saw the skin securing the steel loops between the hanks of fabric.
  280.         A slender, chilly hand caressed Rosea's cheek, gently turning her head. She had a moment to stare at the most beautiful female face she had ever seen – an gamine, alabaster face, perfect in every way – before she found herself being kissed with tender care. The lips were ice-cold. Rosea had learned a great deal about carrying on regardless of novelties, the past few days, so she ignored the strange sensation of being kissed by frigid lips, and returned the kiss with passion. The goddess slid her tongue into Rosea's mouth, so when it withdrew again Rosea followed it with her own tongue into the goddess's cool mouth in turn.
  281.         The goddess bit Rosea's tongue.
  282.         Not a sexy bite, either. Hard enough that her teeth sank well into the flesh. Hard enough that Rosea screamed in a strangled way and jerked back, her scream spraying a fine mist of blood across that perfect face. Rosea was doubled over, cherishing her tongue, and did not see the woman standing there still for a long moment with her eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of fine drops of warm blood on her skin. The woman's dead-cold lips parted and the slightest gasp of climax escaped them.
  283.         “Poison, you are ever the consummate artist,” said Jack.
  284.         The woman was now pulling the whimpering Rosea's mouth open with superhuman strength, but she smiled coolly at him and said, “Hush, you snake-charmer.” She applied a dab of something from her pocket to the injured tongue. The bleeding stopped immediately and the pain began to fade, leaving Rosea standing there feeling vaguely foolish. Turning to Jack, Poison said, “What will it be, silver-tongue?”
  285.         Piercings. That's what it would be. Rosea stood there in mute terror while Jack told Poison what he wanted and Poison told Jack how he was wrong and what would be better. After a long time spent listening to this anticipatory torture, exactly what Rosea had been dreading would happen, happened. She was spreadeagled on a steel frame in the shape of an X and strapped down – chained, actually, with leather-wrapped chains that were perversely comfortable.
  286.         Poison selected a gossamer-thin needle six inches long and ran it in front of Rosea's eyes. Rosea whimpered and waited for the stabbing pain as it entered her – and then looked down in confusion to see that while Poison had distracted her with one needle, she had placed another into the flesh of Rosea's thigh without the slave even noticing. Though she struggled to identify the presence of the needle itself, she could feel muscle relaxation, warmth and a sort of well-being spreading from the place where it was. The feeling spread, and sure enough, Poison had added another needle.
  287.         Poison's delicate, cold fingertips traced Rosea's skin, slowly closing in on her nipples. These she traced until the stimulation and the chill had them standing proudly at attention. Poison bent down and kissed Rosea's open mouth tenderly. While their lips were locked Poison attached a special clamp to one nipple, ran a heavy needle through it and filled the resulting hole with a large stainless steel barbell. Rosea squealed into Poison's loving mouth, but the acupuncture had done its work and she did not struggle.
  288.         The slave-attendant with the heavily pierced torso had dumbly come over to attend. She applied a healing ointment to the smarting nipple. Poison returned to titillation and acupuncture before doing the other.
  289.         Finally. she focused all her attention on Rosea's cunt, sending cool breaths against it and gently stroking the exterior folds until Rosea was choking back mewls of need. Meanwhile, Poison gently removed the acupuncture needles one by one. Once the clitoris under Posion's ministrations was fully hard, Rosea was treated to the sharpest single pain she had ever experienced; every muscle in her body flexed hard against the restraints as Poison placed a very large barbell in her clit.
  290.         Poison kissed her a last time as the slave-assistant applied ointment to Rosea's outraged clitoris and unfastened the restraints. Rosea was finally able to look down and see herself. The stainless steel balls on either end of the barbells in her nipples were big. The thing in her clit however was really huge. Her hood no longer came down over her clit almost at all.
  291.         Jack paid Poison. The elegant woman nodded and said, “My pleasure, silver-tongue. She has lovely nerves for her age.” And she blew Rosea a kiss. Rosea was entranced. She took a half step toward Poison unconsciously. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to try to kiss Poison again or fall to her knees in the hope that Poison would straddle her face.
  292.         Jack turned to go. As he did, Poison called out, “Oh Jack?” He turned and looked back at her. “Jack, silver-tongue, do prepare me a slave just as soon as you find your next nice young virgin with pale skin and a slender form.” She gently caressed the cheek of the dead-eyed slave-assistant next to her. “I love to have as much warm young life in my shop as I can,” and here she looked a little sad, “which is so very difficult, when they last for – for such a short time.”
  293.         Rosea no longer wanted to stay with Poison.
  294.         Jack assured Poison that she had right of first refusal on any prospects that would suit her requirements and took his leave. Rosea hurried to follow but felt faint after twenty feet. As Jack carried her limp body back to the apartment, the ointment slowly took away the pain in her nipples and clit.
  295.  
  296. THE TENTH DAY
  297.         Rosea checked her piercings nervously when she woke. The stuff they'd put on her injured parts had really done the trick, she thought: the piercings were fully healed . As her libido woke up too she noticed that the barbells apparently kept her nipples and clit in a state of partial stimulation more or less permanently. They were all three prominent and eye-catching. She grew stiff and erect in all three places as she watched herself – nipples jutting straight out, clitoral hood back to display her pink button with its steel companions to either side.
  298.         Just like the day before, she ensured that all three of her holes were well-filled with toys and then sucked the Master as he woke. Unlike yesterday, though, Calatia was ordered to brush out Rosea's hair and rub her with lotion as Rosea bobbed her head up and down over Jack's crotch. When Calatia had Rosea relatively presentable and Rosea had swallowed Jack's cum, Jack ordered her to leave her oral dildo out, and to remove her vaginal and anal toys as well. He inspected her mouth, vagina and anus thoroughly, noting with satisfaction that the latter two holes were pliable and without signs of soreness.
  299.         “Slave, we will now begin the advanced stage of your training,” he said. She neither blushed nor flinched, but stood waiting for him to explain. “Today you learn to be a whore.” No immediate reaction. Good.
  300.         He brought her through the early morning streets to an establishment that faced the Colosseum of Eternal Rome. It was sort of like a glassed-in storefront Rosea vaguely remembered from somewhere, except that there was no glass at all: simply the street, then a knee-high wall, and then a nice sort of lounge area full of leather easy chairs and couches, and finally a bar.
  301.         There were three people inside. Behind the bar was a paunchy old soldier with a nasty scar running through a sightless left eye, a balding head, gray muttonchops and massive, callused hands he was resting with his thumbs hooked behind his barman's apron. The other two, who were lounging around the couches, were definitely for rent. One was young, blonde, short, and plump, and the other was older, raven-haired, tall, and slim; but they both wore the same bored expression, though they made an effort to smile enticingly at Jack.
  302.         They were each wearing a leather corset that came up under their breasts, which were forced together and out, a leather collar around the neck, and two little strips of leather that came down from the front and back of the corset, one hanging down between the legs and the other down over the ass. They were technically covered but lifting the bits of leather would offer instant access to anything on offer.
  303.         Jack had been watching Rosea's glances with amusement. He said, “This is a well-respected brothel of the type called a parlor in Eternal Rome. That means it offers clean, simple services without frills. I have a longstanding agreement with the owner. You will be permitted to work here today as training. It's early in the day, but they're never closed.”
  304.         The bartender winked at Jack. “That we are, girlie. And never will you be closed, either, while you're here. Come behind the bar and blow me while your master and I talk it over.” She looked at Jack. He nodded, so she did as she was told. The bartender chuckled. “You train 'em well, my boy,” he said. The man's apron and his parts beneath it were mercifully clean. She knelt beneath the apron, pulled his stiffening cock from his pants, and began to suck.
  305.         Rosea eavesdropped from beneath the cloth. Jack asked the bartender if she could serve as “advertisement,” and the bartender readily agreed and promised to keep an eye on her. “Don't worry too much about her,” said Jack. “She's broken in pretty well.” And with that he walked out of the brothel.
  306.         The bartender stepped back from her without bothering to finish. “Well, girlie,” he said, “My name is Gaius. Retired veteran of the third cohort. Call me Mister and do as I say and we'll have no fuss. Come now.” There was a big sturdy table right next to the open street side of the parlor. Rosea and the other slave-whores were told to put its chairs away and clean it. This done, a thick leather tablecloth was thrown over it, reaching the ground and turning the table into a little stage. There was writing in foot-tall letters sewn into the side of the cloth that faced the street, forming a big sign, but it was in a language Rosea had not been taught.
  307.         “Mister?” she said. “What does the sign say?”
  308.         Gaius laughed his easy laugh again. “Get up there and I'll tell you.” She did. “It says, 'Today's special! Free to customers!' Means any man comes in here and buys something else, gets free run at you, too. Here's your orders. You stay up here.” He put a leather bottle next to her. “Use this here to keep your bits well wet. If nobody's fucking 'em, you point 'em the street and rub yourself. Catch some eyes, get 'em in here. If you get a break and you're messy, climb down and use the shower. In back, through that door. Then come back out and get back up. Got it?”
  309.         “Yes, Mister,” she said, with only a slight quaver. After a moment's thought, she knelt with her back to the street and her legs splayed wide apart, and then bent down so her breasts touched the table. This spread her buttocks wide so that she felt the cool draft from the street across both holes. She squirted some lube from the bottle onto her hand, ran it into her pussy a couple of times, and then began to use her fingers to prepare her anus. She still found herself expecting it to be a round, closed hole back there, but her fingers found that although it had indeed closed since she left Jack's, in its resting state her asshole was now a vertical slit half an inch long.
  310.         She fiddled and prodded for a while, trying to replicate the internal stimulation of her g-spot that Jack and Calatia sometimes created when they fucked her up the ass. A runner brought the bartender a sealed message, and asked for watered wine while it was signed for. He flipped a spark to the barkeep, threw back the drink in one draft, and walked over to Rosea.
  311.         “Stand up, bitch,” he said. She stood and he sat on the table. “Now sit that big wet butthole around this dick.” She squatted over him and got his head lined up, but the runner got impatient and pulled her down onto him. It hurt a little, but with her sitting mostly on him he couldn't fuck her all that hard. The downside to this was that he was able to take his time about it. Remembering her instructions, Rosea fingered her pussy while he grunted into the back of her neck.
  312.         After a few minutes a guardsman on his patrol saw the show. He came in and greeted the bartender with a nod between long acquaintances. The bartender already had wine, bread and cheese out on a plate, but the guardsman decided it could wait. So, he paid, and came over to Rosea's dais. He stood in front of the table, hiked up a leg to get the proper angle, and then began to fuck her pussy.
  313.         Rosea had spent most of the past few days full of Jack's cock, Calatia's strap-on, or failing that, toys bigger than these men. Still, she was getting a workout. By chance the guardsman leaned back long enough that Rosea noticed stares from passersby on the street. She felt the familiar heat of mixed embarrassment and arousal as she realized that the only part of her they could see were her legs splayed lewdly out, and frequent glimpses of the lube-slick perineum between her holes as the cocks worked inside her.
  314.         The runner came in her ass first. Softening quickly, he slithered out from behind her and left her sitting on the dais. The guardsman grabbed her legs and held them straight up together, tightening her pussy so that he came as well. Rosea had a moment to look around the brothel. Business was picking up, and she felt a little spurt of pride. Men passing on the street saw me getting fucked and came in, she thought.
  315.         The tired chubby slave-whore had been given permission to retire, but the older one was still working and the barman had called down three more slaves from their quarters upstairs. Two were offering themselves to customers, one was performing oral sex on a man drinking wine on a couch, and the fourth was leading a man up to a room. Rosea dimly remembered that prostitutes outside Eternal Rome often flirted for a while before closing a deal,but it did not seem to work  that way here. It made sense; if a man wanted that he'd use a slave with social skills. Here the men walked in, make a selection from the meat on display, paid, and got off.
  316.         Before she had time to look around any more, a man strolled past them down the stairs with a wet dick sticking through his loose trousers. He jumped easily up onto Rosea's dais and waved it at her mouth. She sucked it, tasting cum and a strange woman's pussy juice, and gently cupped the customer's balls with her hand. Kneeling on the dais in front of him, she was left with her ass pointed toward the street.
  317.         She remembered her training from the past days and decided that since she was using her hands to aid the blowjob, she couldn't reach back around to spread her butt. So she put her thighs hard together and raised her hips as high as she could get them without impeding her oral skills. This not only showed off her holes, but caused her ass to relax enough to drip a blob of semen, which ran across her taint, joined cum from her pussy, and ran down her thighs.
  318.         There were lewd male exclamations from the street behind her. She realized with excitement that there had to be at least three men out there watching her. Yesterday, during a break for her holes to recover, Jack had used Calatia to demonstrate ways for a slave to offer themselves to onlookers while being fucked. An image of Calatia's huge horsey asshole came into Rosea's mind, so she began to clench and relax her anus, winking it at the street.
  319.         She heard at least two pairs of feet walk through the door at that. Neither of them came over to do her immediately, however, electing to take the deal and fuck one of the other whores on offer first. But soon there was the sound of hard masturbation from the street, and then the man in question rushed inside, hurriedly bought the cheapest drink on offer, and slid himself under her. They had to wrestle awkwardly for a while to begin vaginal intercourse while she sucked, but they managed it eventually.
  320.         The man beneath her was old and thin. She started to hump him, but only managed a few strokes before another man's hands seized her hips and held them still while their owner shoved his cock up her ass. She couldn't manage much movement after that but the guy she was on top of didn't seem to mind. He lay there, in her pussy, excitedly mauling her breasts with his mouth and hands.
  321.         By the time she got the blowjob finished the brothel was nearly at capacity, despite it still being morning. There was also a line of guys around the dais waiting their turn. She found herself having to blindly do her best to give handjobs to either side – five dicks. Some were willing to use her hands, but some stayed back until a hole came available. So occupied, she couldn't really take much of an active role other than with her hands. Head more or less immobile, she stopped being able to suck very well, so the men standing in front of her just fucked her throat instead. The guy beneath her stayed there in her pussy the whole while, clearly enjoying himself.
  322.         She lost track of time. Fortunately all the men obeyed the barman's occasional strictures on use of lube. Finally she got so limp and her holes got so fucked out that the line of customers dwindled to no one. The man beneath her finally came weakly and went on his way. She collapsed sideways into a puddle of cum, too exhausted to care.
  323.         The barman saw this and sent a slave-whore to take charge of her. She was brusquely wiped to the point where she could walk without dripping cum on the floor, and then taken out back and hosed off. She was given a fluffy bathrobe and a jug of Fiends' cum, and told to rest quietly on a couch. She did not need to be told twice and was dozing seconds after she polished off the meal.
  324.         She woke in the early afternoon and was put out to take cock again. She was still a little numb and fucked out from the first round, so it did not last quite as long before the crowd lost interest again. Regardless she took it until she was exhausted enough to sleep again.
  325.         Then at night she was put out for a third and final round. She was loose enough by this point that after her holes had a few loads in them she could not stop them making lewd, flatulent noises as the faceless customers pounded away. But by this time of night most of the customers were drunk, and many did not seem to care how loose or sloppy she was. And so Rosea's night ended.
  326.         Since her training did not require his attention, Jack challenged the Fogs. For once, he found a woman in the Fogs before something else caught her. She was young, but plain of face and overweight. Barely worth the trouble of getting her back to Farid for sale.
  327.         She made to run from him, but tripped and fell. He got three spells into her before she could rise – his brand, a pain spell, and a fear spell that he had not had to use on Rosea at all. It was extremely powerful for breaking a slave's will and inspiring total obedience, but it often ruined any chance of building real affection, so Jack used it sparingly. But this chubby bitch was not destined for his training, so he hit her with it.
  328.         She followed him dumbly up the hill to his apartment, but by the time they got there she had dropped rather than risen in his estimation. She was unattractive, but that was partially remediable. She was also extremely stupid, however, and Jack knew no cure at all for that. Farid was no fool and would offer a pitiful handful of sparks for a fat, dumb, and ugly slave.
  329.         Too bad for her.
  330.         Useless slaves did not live long in Eternal Rome. When Jack got home he made inquiries of Calatia, who was responsible for the captive Fiend Jack kept in the basement to provide cheap slave nutrition. It seemed that there would be a position opening soon for a gutter slave in the Fiend pen. So, Jack ordered the trembling slave to strip and wash, suited himself in heavy rubber medical garments, and then led her down the staircase to the basement.
  331.         Jack slid a panel in the armored basement door aside to check the interior. Inside floated a gigantic Fog Fiend, a huge armored carapace with a mouth that could swallow a man whole, a multiplicity of eyes, and a dense forest of tentacles hanging below. A real leviathan.
  332.         The walls of the armored enclosure hummed with arcane energies, keeping the fiend safely confined. The floor of the room was slatted, and there was a slight noise of machinery. Any fluids that fell would be collected, filtered, and piped upstairs to be decanted into earthenware jugs.
  333.         Some members of the Guild used slave-assistants to keep their Fiends producing, but Jack thought that poor practice. The damnable Fiends inevitably impregnated the slave-assistants, requiring either steep medical bills or a new assistant. The Fiends also had a short life cycle, so it would also be necessary to continually find new Fiends young enough to be caught, or pay exorbitantly for them, or else capture women already impregnated out in the Fogs.
  334.         There was a sure solution to both problems, though: simply pair a low-quality slave with a young Fiend and keep them in the enclosure together, permanently. The Fiend would naturally tentacle rape the slave, who for her part would quickly sink into a Fiend cum induced haze and would be conveniently nourished as well.
  335.         Calatia had told him that the current pair, Fiend and slave, were reaching the end of their cycle together. And Jack saw that it was true. Properly, the Fiend should have had the slave wrapped up in its thin manipulating tentacles, while thicker phallus tentacles serviced her holes. Each of these would pump Fiend's cum into her until she could take no more; upon its withdrawal, a rush of nourishing cum would drip down to be harvested.
  336.         But the Fiend was old. Eyes glassy, tentacles limp, it floated quiescent. It had let its slave drop to the floor. She lay there pale and unconscious. She was dominated by a truly massive pregnancy, with nearly half her mass concentrated in a grossly huge belly. Her body was thoroughly ruined. Her breasts had tried to keep pace with the unnatural pregnancy, hanging pendulous with prominent veins and inverted nipples.  The rest of her was covered in half-healed tentacle welts. In her coma she struggled to breathe as a hundred pounds of womb and Fiend fetus pressed her diaphragm.
  337.         Jack dragged the new slave into the enclosure and let her cower in the corner as he worked. After two hours' heavy labor, he had converted the elderly leviathan and the expectant Fiend-mother into eleven gallons of valuable alchemical ingredients, nearly a thousand pounds of offal, and a newborn Fiend. This floated uncertainly in midair for a short time before it sighted a naked, sobbing female form in one corner of the enclosure.
  338.         The new slave screamed as the newborn Fiend advanced. With nowhere to go, she tried to press herself through the floor. In the resultant fetal position, she unwittingly presented herself conveniently for the infant Fiend. Baby Fiends were known colloquially as 'rear-grippers.' This was because their phallus tentacles were still quite short, so short in fact that they could not reach all a slave's holes at one time. Until it grew, the Fiend would content itself with the anus and vagina.
  339.         Rumbling, the new Fiend used its manipulator tentacles to seize the slave and hoist her hips into the air. Her hands scrabbled uselessly as she left the ground. A few trickles of blood start from where the suckers bit into her especially hard. Finally, the Fiend got her ass up under its body where its stubby young phallus tentacles waited. Older Fiends were a bit more systematic, but this one was inexperienced and rammed itself into the warmest places it could find. The incoherent screaming became a drawn-out shriek as the slave felt her vagina and rectum mercilessly filled by multiple questing phalli.
  340.         Eventually the Fiend got everything stuffed where it needed to go and began to cum. After a while the slave's womb was completely filled and cum began to run out of her inverted pussy, down her weakly struggling body, and onto the floor. It took longer for the Fiend to fill her entire digestive tract, but eventually it succeeded. Her belly grew distended and she began to cough, dripping cum from her mouth as well.
  341.         Jack nodded in satisfaction and retired for the night.
  342.  
  343. THE ELEVENTH DAY
  344.         Rosea did not waste time on waking. She efficiently looked after her holes and then sucked her master awake. Calatia and Rosea had a lot of tidying up to do around the apartment; there were a number of powerful tools and rubber garments to be cleaned and put away. Meanwhile, Jack pulled a nondescript box out of a locker to do a final review of the contents.
  345.         It contained the tattered remnants of a woman's blue jeans and purple cashmere sweater. The rags had been torn by desperate flight over rocky ground and had then been cut apart to strip them from an unconscious body. He did a final check to ensure that nothing important was missed. Wallet, keys, phone. Evidently property of Jamie Lynn Beckett, resident of Mansfield, Ohio, age 33 years. Phone fried due to interference from Fogs passage. Per notes in wallet, divorced, no children. Yoga club membership with handwritten personal notation indicating frequent recreational sexual relationship with male classmate. Community college identification. Other papers indicated work as a catering assistant.  No, nothing important. He dropped the contents of the box into the reclamation bin. Rosea did not notice.
  346.         Jack then moved to a dark corner of the apartment. Here there stood a coffin-sized machine, covered in techno-arcana, humming softly and giving off a slight condensate mist of extreme cold. After some minutes of work he was rewarded with a hiss and the chamber began to open. Rosea watched in mute awe. Presently, out of the cryo-chamber there stepped the most ferocious looking woman she had ever seen.
  347.         The woman was compact, but extremely muscular. Rosea thought she looked like a wrestler, even a bodybuilder. She had olive skin, a too-large mouth, and hardly any tits at all. Rosea thought she had read somewhere that when women got really muscular they began to lose their breasts, and this woman mostly had. Anyway, this woman was wearing armor, studded leather armor, and behind her in the cryo-chamber Rosea could see what looked like a pair of short swords or long daggers. A warrior, thought Rosea. Like a gladiator? This was Eternal Rome, and Rosea thought gladiators and Rome were associated somehow – she couldn't remember.
  348.         The newcomer's eyes swept over Rosea in an instant, and Rosea shivered. That gaze was completely uncaring. Not a warrior. A killer. She knew that this death-goddess simply did not give a shit for the bitch at the table. Then the gaze whipped up and down Rosea's body.
  349.         The killer took Jack's hand, and lightly squeezed it. He turned from the machine and they kissed. And for just an instant, just one, Rosea thought she saw the woman relax a little. The woman whispered something in Jack's ear: for a moment Rosea thought it was "I love you, Master."
  350.         Rosea shook her head. No way. Couldn't have been.
  351.         The hard woman looked Rosea in the eye, and said, "I'm Isabella. I'm Jack's first slave." She sounded almost bored. She looked back at Jack. "Master, do I get to fight today?" Jack smiled and nodded.
  352.         "You do, Izzy, and you may use her as prefight warmup if you wish," he said, indicating Rosea. Isabella's face took on a predatory look. She placed one leg up on a chair and crooked a finger at Rosea.
  353.         "Come here. That's right, hurry up. Get on your knees."
  354.         Rosea knew exactly what Isabella wanted, and a short few days earlier Rosea would have hesitated or protested or even refused, but now she just knelt and began eating out Isabella's pussy. It tasted all right and Isabella didn't seem to want to hurt her. Just to fuck her. Isabella ground her tight pussy against Rosea's busy mouth and tongue.
  355.         "Good enthusiasm, uh. Open wide and suck. Ah. Lick bottom to top, finish up there. Oh fuck it, just eat. Treat it like dessert, uh, ah, eat it like you're starved." By the end Isabella was doing most of the work. She held Rosea's head against her sex with both hands, her iron grip leaving Rosea feeling totally helpless. Isabella might not have a cock, Rosea thought, but she's fucking me just the same. Isabella humped Rosea's desperate face as the poor slave began to struggle for air. No breath tricks to get around this. Finally, Isabella came, gushing a little juice.
  356.         Isabella grinned, “Aah, not bad. What's your name, slut?”
  357.         “Rosea.”
  358.         “Pink pussy, huh? Back on your knees. Every one of Jack's slaves has got to be in top shape. For me, being out of shape means I bleed out in the arena as some bitch stands over me with the crowd cheering her. Good shape means healthy, and if you want to stay healthy you piss every time you use your cunt. Jack taught you that, I bet.”
  359.         Rosea had been listening with her mouth open. “Yes, he taught me that, M-”
  360.         Isabella looked appalled. “Bitch I did not just hear you start to call me Master. Jack probably heard you because he hears everything. But he's also a really very nice man so he probably won't feed you to a fucking Fiend for A. almost calling someone who isn't him Master, and B. calling a fucking slave Master.” She glanced at Jack, well outside Rosea's field of view.
  361.         He grinned, suppressing laughter, and nodded at Isabella.
  362.         Isabella bent down to Rosea's cowering and spoke in her ear. “If Jack doesn't cut you up for mince for that fuckup, Rrrosea, you owe him. You owe him pretty fucking big. You'd better be extra good, yes Master, no Master, please whore me out to an ogre, Master. I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that, so you also owe ME.”
  363.         By now Rosea was trembling, trying and failing not to look in terror at where Jack was strapping on his armor and fur-lined cloak. She whimpered, “Please – I'll do anything – don't –”
  364.         “Oh shut the fuck up. You'll do anything, huh?”
  365.         “Yes!” Rosea looked up, cheeks wet.
  366.         “Ok. Unless you've already forgotten – probably have, since you couldn't figure out that I'm a slave and not an M-word – I just used my cunt and I haven't pissed yet. Here, wrap those lips around my pussy. Whole thing. Good. Drink.”
  367.         Rosea's eyes widened as the urine began to flow into her mouth. But she'd gotten a lot of practice relaxing her throat, and she got it all down, every golden drop. Isabella pulled the gasping slave's head back by her hair and looked her over approvingly. “Good fuck, Rosea. I get to kill something now.” She retrieved her swords from the cryo-chamber, buckled them around her back, and fell in behind Jack. Earlier, Rosea had thought Isabella looked aroused at the prospect of fucking. Now Rosea knew that she had been wrong.
  368.         Isabella looked aroused at the prospect of killing.
  369.         Rosea was ordered to follow Jack and Isabella. By now it was full day. Rosea thought they would walk to the Coliseum Isabella apparently fought at, but they did not. Instead they walked down the hill to the Quarter of the Bull, where she had never been.
  370.         Presently they came to a huge, sprawling brothel with a magical sign that reached two stories tall. “Madame Joffre's,” it said, and next to it there was a startlingly lifelike magical image of a haughty-looking woman with long raven hair. The image wore a green dress with a translucent panel over the breasts and crotch. It gazed regally down at Rosea.
  371.         Madame Joffre's was a high-class place. There was no sex going on in the lobby, though there were slave-whores in plenty and nude dancing on the bar. It seemed that when a man decided to pay for services, he was led to a booth to receive them. At least, at this time of day.
  372.         Jack sought out a woman in a green dress, and when she turned Rosea was shocked to come face to face with the living person in the image from the sign. She was just as haughty in the flesh. After greeting Jack politely, she looked Rosea over thoroughly, in a businesslike way, and then turned to Isabella. Here her eyes widened in surprise.
  373.         She said, “You're not selling Isabella, are you?”
  374.         He chuckled. “No. Rosea there, however, is the slave who Gaius recommended.”
  375.         The Madame turned to her with renewed interest. “Slave, in the evening my brothel sets up booths facing the street. Admission to them is cheap to encourage an ongoing show that will attract the eye. These booth shows are performed by two slaves; if no customers are fucking them they fuck each other. The slaves I use for this are required to take several shifts every night, and each shift generally involves ten or twenty dicks, often many at a time. Otherwise, booth-slaves cook and clean in back. Can you do this?”
  376.         Rosea said, “Yes, Madame Joffre.”
  377.         “Good. Your last merchandise was excellent, Jack. So, 2,500 sparks for this one, if you'll accept the price without bargaining.” He did. Madame Joffre took charge of Rosea, leading her back for more instructions and grooming. And thus Rosea left Jack's service for the service of Madame Joffre, and began her professional life as a slave-whore on public display. 
  378.          As Jack and Isabella walked to the Colosseum, the true heart of Eternal Rome, the life of White Town moved around them. It was the tenth day, a holiday. Down in the quarters there would be drinking and singing and fucking. Up here it was a little more refined. In the ground floor restaurants and salons they passed, lords and ladies did the drinking while honey-voiced slaves did the singing. Lest anyone forget that this was Eternal Rome, out open windows and down stairwells there came the shouts of lords and ladies giving and the moans of slaves taking. More than a few of these people high and low saw and recognized Jack and Isabella. They saw him resplendent and her ready for blood and they cheered.
  379.         Jack settled into the Slavers' Guild box while the Lanista, a ferocious blonde freedwoman not an inch under six foot six, took charge of Isabella with a proprietary air. The blood had begun to flow on the sands below but most of the guild members in the box were chatting rather than watching. Those of them whose property fought below gave muted curses or cheers. Several members of the Guild were being orally pleasured by slave attendants, and these Guild members watched the combats most raptly of all. Eternal Rome certainly produced more than a few blood-fetishists.
  380.         Jack stood at the railing at the front of the box. He had come in his gorgeous black and gold plate, but as functional heavy armor it did not permit him to sit comfortably. No mention of this was made in the box but a few sidelong glances let Jack know that the message had not gone unnoticed. I challenge the Fogs, he said without words; I bring Eternal Rome fresh flesh while you wastrels sit on your pillows. The gleaming black and gold war-god figure was visible from the stands below the box, too. There could be no mistake about his brand tonight. Word of Jack's addition of a slave battle-nun to the Papal retinue had already spread and many curious stares turned his way.
  381.         Here was Isabella, barefoot and proud on the sand below.
  382.         Fifty thousand throats chanted Jack's name. It would be improper for them to chant hers, which few of them even knew, so they chanted his name as that of the brand on display. In response she bared her crotch to show the brand there.
  383.         The brand symbol floated huge in magical outline over her as she displayed herself.
  384.         Tonight was an execution-match. Opposite Isabella, five slaves tumbled out of a trapdoor in the arena floor. Every one of them was stark naked, but each held a weapon. Runaways, useless bitches, cunts whose masters had not the skill to break them; here to bleed. Isabella unsheathed her swords, spun them in an artistic display, kissed each blade, and began to dance toward her opponents.
  385.         Five against one.
  386.         Around Jack, the betting was not on whether Isabella or the five runaways would win. They were betting on how long it would take her. The bravest slave below – runaway for certain – screamed and ran to meet Isabella, holding a curved sword over her head as she came.
  387.         Damn-fool thing to do, Jack grunted. Best thing to do as a novice is keep your weapon centered in front of you so you can move it quickly wherever needed. Trouble with that over-the-head business is it leaves your gut wide open.
  388.         Isabella passed the charging slave to the side, opening the runaway's belly as she did so. The eviscerated slave crashed to the sand as Isabella ran on. The stricken girl screamed, on and on, as Isabella closed with the remaining four. She liked music, for a group fight. So did the crowd.
  389.         Four against one.
  390.         Four, but as usual only two really had it in mind to fight. One of these shrieked to the others, no doubt to encourage them to take her from all sides at once. Isabella instantly went the shouter's way, deftly parrying a mace-blow and planting her offhand sword straight through the shouter's heart.
  391.         Three against one.
  392.         With her remaining sword Isabella caught the head of a long axe as it missed her flank by inches. She forced it to continue forward and down to stick uselessly in the sand. The sword whipped up and caught the axe-wielder under the throat. Isabella turned back to the slave she'd stabbed through the chest and whipped both swords free in one motion, producing a spray of blood from each.
  393.         Two against one.
  394.         The next slave held her paired knives in front of her chest like a shield. She was trembling so hard it was visible from the stands. Isabella's offhand sword flickered toward the eyes, the knives came up to shield them, and Isabella's forehand sword took the slave under the rib cage and up into the lungs as the two women came together in a parody of an embrace.
  395.         The final slave dropped her spear and fell to her knees, sobbing and begging. Isabella took two steps to stand over the prostrate girl, and whipped the flat of her swords across her naked back. The slave screamed, more in terror than pain, and collapsed. Isabella shouted something at her.
  396.         Isabella's demand was not audible from the stands but the substance was obvious enough. The final slave put her face in the sand and raised her cunt to Isabella. Isabella kicked the dropped weapon away and reached into a long pouch along the back of her belt. From this she took a huge dildo; this slotted into straps on the front of her armor to form a strap-on of grotesque size. It dangled in front of her, almost reaching the ground.
  397.         Isabella had already won the crowd's screamed approval, but this next part would be the most difficult flourish of all. The same magic that had displayed Jack's brand above Isabella would disclose any orgasm on the arena floor: no actress could fool it. So to show her skill to best advantage Isabella would have to cum.
  398.         But Isabella knew very well what would please both her and the mob. She held the edge of a sword against the defeated slave's throat. The pale form in front of her shuddered and moaned as Isabella entered her cunt.
  399.         The crowd howled its approval so loudly that the sounds from the sand were drowned out. Jack saw Isabella's head turn to one side as she noted this; she reached down with her free hand and extracted her dildo. Holding it by the head, she rammed it toward her victim's anus. The poor girl had no time to relax or position herself. As she felt the massive faux dick force its way past her sphincter she produced a long, loud shriek that went on and on and was nicely audible to the crowd. Isabella's wild grin was visible from the highest seats in the Colosseum.
  400.         After only a few brutal thrusts, a series of magical imitation fireworks appeared over Isabella's head. The crowd pounded its feet and cheered her orgasm. Isabella turned her head toward the box of honor, where the hands of the senior nobility shot out, thumbs down. Isabella's razor sharp sword, already at the girl's throat, cut it to the bone with a flourish.
  401.         Isabella stood to the roar of the adoring crowd, pulling her strap-on free of the dying girl's ruined asshole. As Isabella stood on the sands below, cheered by thousands, Jack forced the slave attendant he was face fucking to take his full length, and shot rope after rope of cum a long way down her throat. The pillow-lipped slave had started blowing him when Isabella was announced, which had progressed to vicious oral rape by the first kill.
  402.         Eternal Rome certainly produced more than a few blood-fetishists.
  403.         “Libero! Libero! Libero!” chanted the crowd.
  404.         By one of the oldest laws of the city, a gladiatrix who won her third fight could be acclaimed a freedwoman of the city by the crowd. Isabella had won her third fight many, many fights ago and had been freed by acclimation at every fight since. And so now as a freed woman she ran to the side of the arena, vaulted into the stands over the grinning guards, and climbed up to the Slavers' Guild box and Jack, shedding weapons and pieces of armor as she came.
  405.         She stood proud on the step beneath him, her olive body crisscrossed by scars, nude except for her victims' blood. Jack wordlessly cast his brand spell on her before a hundred thousand eyes. There on her mons, atop the scars of her first brand, there were invisibly layered magical brands, one for each of her victories after the third.
  406.         A slave again, she leapt up at him and wrapped herself around him, arms hugging his neck and thighs wrapped about his armored hips. He caught her and entered her sweaty and soaking pussy in one sweep. There in plain view above the bloody sands they quickly fucked, half sex and half sparring, a friendly competition of athletic and sexual prowess. Jack won their little contest in the end, but Isabella's powerful orgasm brought him promptly over the edge as well. She was almost as muscular inside as she was outside and her convulsive base-to-tip squeeze of his member as she came brought his cum with it.
  407.         The nobility of Eternal Rome narrowed its collective eyes and took note of Jack's brand. Just as they did every time Jack and Isabella fucked a victory fuck. A brand on the rise.
  408.         By the time Jack led Isabella out the professional exit in back of the Coliseum, the plaza around the white marble oval was a wild party. Slaves were permitted in the Coliseum in private boxes only; thus the common man in the stands usually left the arena after the last fight with a stiff prick and an urgent need. The Coliseum plaza was lined with high class White Town brothels that sold pretty, fresh girls by day. But every tenth night there was blood on the sand and lust in the stands and far, far too many dicks for those girls to manage. It got even worse later once the men started pounding energy potions that would leave them stiff all night. So, every tenth night, the brothels around the Coliseum put away their fragile furnishings, hired as many cheap slaves as they could manage, and sold all-you-can-fuck passes that were good until the White Town guards in their Vatican-gold mail broke it up at dawn.
  409.         Out in the plaza there was some dancing and some drinking, but the pretense was dropping away quickly. Many of the fine lords and ladies leaving their boxes had to put on a show of disgust as they picked their way through the throng. Oh my, see what commoners do when let up into White Town one night in ten! But Jack had no need to pick his way anywhere; the crowd parted for him and his slave. Many clapped him on the back or cheered him as he passed. Isabella they did not clap on the back or cheer, mostly out of self-preservation. As they moved for home they passed the brothels, thrown wide open and brightly lit, business spilling out onto the clean white stone of the streets.
  410.         On their left a fat young slave squatted over a man lying on his back, pumping herself up and down on his cock. She had a very loose pussy that gave a sloppy wet noise on every down-stroke. As she humped, she finished a standing man with her hands, taking his head into her mouth to swallow the cum.
  411.         Behind her, a dark-skinned slave with almond eyes and long black hair was on all fours as two men sawed her back and forth, dicks alternately thrusting down her throat and into her cunt. As Jack passed she panicked and began to flail her arms weakly; the man behind her caught both arms and pinned them behind her.
  412.         Beyond the spit roast, an old slave – nearly forty, but with the perky tits and pale skin that kept well – sat with her anal ring around the base of a reclining man's cock as another used her pussy. She was startlingly pretty; she must have been a real stunner when she was younger. She was still tight, but probably wouldn't be by the end of the night; as Jack passed the man in her front hole added his cum to the rivulet running down her perineum, past her asshole and the dick stretching it, and down into a growing puddle.
  413.         On the right, the Grocer's Guild had rented a brothel for advertisement. There a pair of milk slaves with huge tits used well-lubricated cleavage to tit fuck anyone who would lie down for it. As each man lay down for the slaves to apply their udders, so the slaves bent down to them, and so their lower holes became available to other men behind them.
  414.         These milk slaves had clearly had their breasts thoroughly drained so that they would not make a mess now. Other cows placed for prominence clearly had not been similarly drained. These had udders so painfully engorged that blue veins were visible around their protruding nipples. They sat chained to tall stools, so that the nipples on their dangling udders were at convenient mouth height.
  415.         Most of the brothels were using the cost-saving measure of putting out slaves in latex suits. Most of theses were worn out slaves in latex to hide their low value so that a last few sparks' profit could be extracted from them. These gutter slaves were unrestrained and lay around apathetically. Their suits were open at the mouth and slit from pussy to anus. Periodically a customer would roughly finger them to find which of their holes was tightest.
  416.         Another cost staving measure was to take unbroken low-value slaves from the fogs, gag them, bind them securely in positions that made their holes convenient, and set them out for use. This was the first stop for most girls carried into the city who were not worth the time and expense to train. Whatever use was made of them later, tonight paying customers would use them as they struggled against their restraints and moaned through their gags.
  417.         An eager line was forming further on. A responsible-looking older brothel slave in glasses and a short formal dress had brought a clearly Fogs-fresh blonde down from upstairs. The frightened girl was bucktoothed, rail-thin, and plain. The slave in charge of her had clearly brought her down for a breaking-in to get her ready for hard service: brothels didn't usually keep the unattractive ones tight. Her owner must have evaluated her as being just worth training for use as a public cum dump. As Jack passed, the dominant slave tugged a butt plug clear of the sobbing slave, leaving her asshole open and ready for its first cock.
  418.         Satisfied, the responsible brothel slave pocketed the plug and turned to see to whatever she had planned next. But before she could go a man near the back of the line stepped forward and caught her by the arm. Jack heard her sigh in resignation as he pulled her down on top of him. Her dress was torn off as several other men closed around her.
  419.         Back at his apartment, Jack and Isabella busied themselves with the cleaning and maintenance of their weapons, armor, and bodies. Minute familiarity with one's equipment could be the difference between death and success, so Jack never permitted himself or any fighting slave to let another slave handle the upkeep of combat kit. Isabella hummed tunelessly while she worked. Jack smiled to himself  – no great artistic talent there, though she painted very prettily in reds.
  420.         Calatia was tired but busied herself massaging the last adrenaline out of Isabella. The slave-assistant's practiced hands gave Isabella a quick climax even as she thoroughly soaped and rinsed the tired gladiatrix. Jack was already asleep when Isabella and Calatia curled up on either side of him.
  421.  
  422. THE FIRST DAY
  423.         In the morning Isabella went back into her cryo-chamber. Guild members like Jack were permitted a single trainee at a time, so Isabella slept the days away in her chamber until the tenth day brought another arena day and she could fight and fuck and glorify Jack. Once another slave trainer had suggested to him that she was sort of like the legends from other places, like King Arthur or Steve Rogers or whoever, sleeping until she was needed. Except that those stories were about heroes and Isabella was an ice-cold bitch. Jack had nearly hurt himself laughing.
  424.         He did not laugh now, but kissed Isabella to cryo-sleep and strapped on his armor. He went to the Fogs and killed a big Fiend with its tentacles stuck into a darkly tanned blonde girl wearing wire-frame glasses, a pink thong, and a black t-shirt with white letters that read COLLEGE. She was pretty in a conventional sort of way, with too much makeup. She had a nice sleek body and young tight holes so Jack carried her to the city and made her a slave.
  425.  
  426. +++
  427.  
  428. As noted at the start, this story is based on the erotic game Jack o Nine Tails, developed and copylefted by OldHuntsman. It's available free, legally, and is really very good. It's got most of what's in this story, and it's challenging enough to hold the attention even when played without dick / clit / whatever in hand. It's also got a neat set of options that allow most of the harder kinks to be removed from the game if you prefer. OldHuntsman has moved on to other projects, but a bunch of really outstanding individuals continue to improve and update the game. If you're interested the best places to find the latest version are Hongfire or the /hgg/ board on 8chan (be careful to find the latest thread, and be careful to follow the damn install instructions).
  429.  
  430. The author, meanwhile, was inspired by JoNT, Whoremaster, and other great slave management games to try his hand at game development. His first game, Free Cities, is in public alpha. It's a text-based slave management game in Twine 2, set in a dystopian, anarcho-liberal near future. The latest version can be downloaded at TFGames or at freecitiesblog.blogspot.com, where the author also posts changelogs.
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