They are such valuable captives this pair. The slim dark young Celt taken in a raid on her village. He has had his fingers in her wet sex, felt the membranes of virginity there. She will fetch a high price when she is broken.
The slightly older brunette one too; captured on the return voyage. No virgin this one but she has beauty, a rebellious spirit that will be a pleasure to break.
Leave them chained in cold stone cells for now. Allow them the light so they can track the days of their captivity. To count the nights he has left them chained. Close enough to give each other some comfort. But never close enough for them to touch, to pleasure each other, to find the solace of another woman's fingers and tongue.
He will come soon. When they least expect. Perhaps when they have given up all hope. But, when he does come, the whip will be their comfort.