Part 3: The House of Ampelios:
As a slave of Ampelios, Thessela was assigned as a personal slave of Ampelios’ wife, Hypatia who was a slim attractive woman in her late thirties or early forties. She spent her time managing the house, visiting her friends, and doting on her three children. She kept Thessela and another young slave girl, Korinna, close to her at all times, except during the evenings when she spent time privately with her family. Korinna was blonde and petite with a delicate small breasted figure. As personal slaves to the mistress, they had more free time than some of the other female slaves and so it was natural that they became friends. Ampelios was rich enough that he could apparently afford the luxury of not working his slaves to the bone.
Ampelios had made a fortune selling wine and olive oil across the Mediterranean. He had large olive groves and vinyards around Corinth. His estate was organized around a large whitewashed villa with a red tile roof. The house itself was surrounded by landscaped gardens, with well-gravelled paths leading from the road to the house. It was set back from the main gate about 50 meters and was built in a Roman style with an arched doorway leading into a spacious marble-floored anteroom. One could look out through the anteroom into the central courtyard of the house with its flowerbeds, flagstone floor, and central pool, deep enough for swimming. A colonnaded promenade surrounded the courtyard, forming a large square, with all the other rooms of the house opening onto the promenade.
The slaves lived in a set of dormitory quarters on the estate to the rear of the house, but close enough that they could be summoned quickly. There was one dormitory for the 20 or so female slaves, complete with a basic bath chamber. Ampelios expected his slaves to be clean and well groomed. Each girl had her own pallet in the main bedchamber, which had a real flagstone floor. There were more dormitories for male slaves, since there were many field hands. Additionally, there was one smaller house that served as quarters for the two senior slaves, the children’s tutor, an educated Greek slave who knew several languages and mathematics, and Homeros, the majordomo or chief slave. Homeros, a middle-aged muscular man with a pot belly and short legs, was in charge of work rosters, discipline, and ensuring that things around the estate ran efficiently.
He was also obviously interested in Thessela, not even trying to conceal his lust, which made her uneasy. She had never had much attention from men, having been kept as almost a slave by her uncle before he sold her into actual slavery. She had had one lover in her teens, before her parents had died, a boy she had known in her home village. He had been sweet and awkward, and she had imagined that he loved her as they had untangled each other from their clothing and then tangled themselves in each other. She may not have had much previous experience with men, but knew that she felt revulsion at the thought of Homeros.
“Watch out for him,” said Korinna, “I think he wants you, and you don’t look like you want him.”
“No,” said Thessela. “The thought of him makes me ill. What should I do?”
“Stay away from his quarters, and hope he stops wanting you. Not very helpful, I'm afraid, but female slaves are the lowest rung of the ladder,” said Korinna unhappily. Thessela shuddered and instinctively hugged her arms around herself at the thought of Homeros touching her.
What was worse was that she had not heard from Rolf in the month since they had arrived together. All his talk of how pleased he was that they were both sold to the same master didn't seem to mean anything. She knew she shouldn’t want him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He had looked at her with his searing blue Nordic eyes, so different from the other men, and she had reacted instantly to him. She was sure he had felt something for her as well, but he had never come to find her during any of her free evenings. She had seen him occasionally leaving on some slave errand in the morning with Ampelios, or at some other time when she was herself busy with her mistress, but he had never looked for her. She wondered if he had forgotten her. "I am only a slave," she told herself. "I don't get what I want."
Homeros was an entirely different matter. He had a habit of walking into the women’s dormitory on some administrative pretext without announcement. He used friendly words when other slaves were also present, but Thessela saw the predatory look on his face when he talked to her, and felt his eyes on her breasts, or watching her when he came to the main house while she worked.
Then, Ampelios took Homeros and a number of field slaves to check on a blight in one of the olive groves. They were gone a week. Thessela hoped that in that time Homeros would tire of thinking about her, but it was pleasant just to work and not worry about his unwanted advances. She was reflecting how nice this was while she and Korinna were on their way back to the dormitory as the sun was setting, the night Ampelios returned home. He had arrived home early, and in a clearly amorous mood. Hypatia had blushed and quickly dismissed the slave girls, as her husband had already started to loosen her dress. Thessela and Korinna had the whole evening free, it seemed.
And suddenly on the gravel path, there was Rolf, looking big and tired after a day of work, stubble on his chin making his face more rugged looking. When he saw Thessela, though, an intensity came back into his eyes. Thessela felt his look like an electric tingle, and her heart beat faster. She had wanted to see him again, but now that he was here, she didn’t know what to say. She just stood and stared at him, the large well-built nordic man in front of her. Korinna smiled and squeezed her hand, and tactfully ran down the path to the dormitory, leaving Thessela alone with Rolf on the path.
“Thessela,” said Rolf finally.
“What…?” stammered Thessela, wanting to be calm, but finding it impossible. “How… I don’t…”
“I think of you every day,” said Rolf. “Now I find you again. I am happy. I see you here in the last month, and I want to talk to you, but…”
Something snapped. All the longing and waiting and frustration came out. “You saw me? You never spoke to me. You never smile at me. You told me you were happy I would be here, but since we got here you never once…” she trailed off suddenly frightened at how bold she was becoming. She didn't want to lose herself to him. “It’s alright. It has to be alright. I’m just a slave. I need to go bathe. Excuse me.” She dropped her eyes and moved to go past him to her dormitory.
“No,” he said intensely, grabbing her arm to stop her. “Every day, I have to go to markets, to fields of olives, to carry things from ships. Sometimes I am a serving man at a party. I leave here early, I work, I return late, and every day I say I will speak to you today, I will see you today, and then you are not there, or you are also working or you are sleeping. Now you are here, and I am here, and I will speak to you.”
“Why did you not come to me when you came back? Even if it was late?” she asked not daring to look at him.
“You are sleeping. I say it will not be fair to wake you.” He sounded awkward.
She looked up at him finally, hesitantly. Looked into his eyes. “You want to speak to me,” she said, her voice sounding more calm than the trembling she felt.
He stared at her. “I thought I wanted to speak,” he said. “Now I forget what I was going to say.”
“I told myself I was a slave,” she said quietly. “I said slaves shouldn’t want things. But I wanted you.” The last phrase was a whisper, and she quickly dropped her eyes again.
Rolf cupped her chin in his large rough hand, gently lifting her face to look at him again. He kissed her softly on the lips. “To me you are not a slave. Come to me tonight. We can meet in the garden behind your quarters. I do not want you to vanish again.”
She found herself staring into his eyes and nodding, feeling the warmth of his kiss still on her lips. “I will come,” she said. She couldn’t believe she had promised to meet him. She blushed, and suddenly pulled her arm free from his grip and ran down the path to her dormitory, as if it would shield her from her own desires.
She found Korinna in the sleeping room, naked and preparing to go for her bath. Her small pale breasts were tipped with pale pink tips. Several other slave women were resting, making repairs to clothing, or sleeping.
“You like this big foreign slave,” Korinna said smiling as she came over to Thessela and took her hands in hers. Thessela was only 5 feet 5 inches tall, but Korinna was smaller still.
“Yes”, said Thessela unhappily. “But I am a slave. I should not want things. I will only be unhappy.”
“Silly,” said Korinna. “He likes you too. Why should you not want? Why should you not have some happiness. You are beautiful,” she added, coming to Thessela and starting to undo her dress. She slipped the dress off Thessela’s shoulders and it dropped to the floor around her ankles. Korinna pressed her small body against Thessela’s letting their breasts touch and caressing Thessela’s back and bum. Thessela felt the rise of desire, but also heat all over her body, as she was embraced so intimately in front of the other slave women. Korinna gave her a quick soft kiss on her lips, took her hand and led her to the bath. “We will have a bath,” she said, “and then you will go meet your man.”
The slave women’s bath was small, but had several wash basins fed by pipes from the aqueduct. The women started to wash, using linen cloths. Thessela couldn’t stop feeling nervous about what she was doing, meeting Rolf, who she felt that she had hardly met, but she knew she would go. It was as if she was a slave there as well, without a choice.
“Well, isn’t this pretty,” said an oily voice. Homeros sauntered into the bath chamber. Thessela shrieked, brought out of her reverie, and covered her breasts with her arm. Korinna simply looked annoyed.
“Go away, Homeros,” she said.
Homeros ignored her and came to stand in front of Thessela. Thessela cringed at the idea that she was naked in front of him and that he might touch her. “I’ve always wanted to bed a fancy slave girl from the Phoenician’s shop. Come to my quarters , and I will show you what pleasure is.” His hand moved quickly and caught Thessela’s arm.
“No,” she cried. “I won’t…”
“What?” said Homeros. “Think you’re too upscale for the likes of me? Stupid bitch!” He slapped her hard across the face. “I’m the majordomo here.”
“Get out!” yelled Korinna, “leave her alone. She doesn’t want you.”
“You watch your place, girl,” growled Homeros. “She’s just another female slave who…”
“I will tell the mistress how you abuse us,” said Korinna hotly. “You know the mistress likes Thessela, and she will tell the master you are hurting the female slaves. The master won't want his wife upset.”
Homeros glared at Korinna, but pushed Thessela away. “I’m not done with you,” he hissed. You think you’re too fancy and upscale for me? I’ll cut you down to size one of these days.” Homeros left and was soon heard arguing with the male slaves outside and herding them to their quarters.
Thessela got the distinct impression she had made an enemy, and she wasn’t quite sure how. She was just relieved he had gone. She collapsed on the bath chamber floor and broke down in tears. Korinna moved quickly over to embrace her.
“Don’t worry about him,” said Korinna. “He's afraid of making the mistress unhappy by treating you badly. He won’t do anything to hurt his position.” She winked. “Now dry your eyes and go.”
Thessela looked around nervously as she slipped out the back of the dormitory, almost expecting to see Homeros lurking in the shadows waiting for her, but the coast was clear. She slipped quickly down the path in the twilight and into the garden. By day the garden was a pretty place of tall thin cypress trees with bright colourful flower beds. There was a small shallow pool in the center surrounded by a well kept lawn that formed the center of the garden. By night it was a place of darker shapes, soft water sounds from the pool, and the tropical smells of flowers and cut grass. It was an almost magical place she thought, but she was nevertheless aware that she was alone in the dark, and wondered again if this was a smart thing to do. She didn’t see Rolf.
“Are you here,” she whispered, as she found her way across the small stretch of grass to the pool.
A large rough warm hand found hers and pulled her forward. Her body was suddenly up against a broad warm chest. Rolf’s arms were around her and he was tipping back her head as his lips took hers. “You came,” she gasped.
“I will always come for you,” he said. He pulled her more tightly against him, and she felt the evidence of his feelings hard against her abdomen through his leather slave shorts.
“I don’t want words,” she heard herself say. “I’m afraid. If I think about this, I won’t…”
He interrupted her by sliding his large hand down over the swell of her bottom, kissing her at the base of her neck, while his other hand started undoing her dress. "Everybody is undressing me today," she thought. Then one of his hands was caressing the side of her breast, while the other moved over her bum, pulling her body against him again, and she stopped thinking. He looked down at her as his hand teased her breast, his rough hands so gentle, moving closer to the nipple, never quite getting there. She felt her dress slip down to her waist as he finally cupped one of her breasts, feeling it fit into his warm hand. His other hand moved to slip her out of her dress the rest of the way.
“Touch me,” she gasped. “Please.”
He lowered her to the grass, still warm from the afternoon heat, sliding his hand up the inside of her thighs. She felt herself blush, as she let him part her legs. He was pushing her arms up above her head, stretching her breasts against her chest as he took one of her nipples into his mouth. She gasped as his hand slid down her belly and lightly stroked over the triangle of hair of her mons. His finger separated the lips of her sex and found the hot moisture as she pressed against his hand.
“Oh,” she gasped, as she tugged at him. She suddenly realized that he was not wearing anything, as he moved to cover her, his arms on either side of her torso. Then it was not his hand parting her, and he was looking down into her eyes as if she was his whole world, and she opened for him and impaled herself on him. She heard herself groan as he started to fill her, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in. “Just for tonight,” she said, “I will want someone. Just for tonight.” And then she stopped thinking as he drove himself deep into her and she grabbed his shoulders and held him, pulling him deep and hard into her until her world became all lights and shuddering sensation, and she felt him stiffen and tremble as she felt his liquid warmth inside her.
They lay on the grass wrapped in each other. “I am glad you came to me," Rolf said, tracing her breast with his finger.
“I couldn't stop wanting you,” she said. “Now I’m afraid I will lose you.”
“Remember I said once that I would go?” said Rolf. “I would go to my home again?”
“Yes, I remember,” she felt a chill at the thought of him leaving, at the thought of Homeros and his threats, but Rolf pulled her into his embrace, wrapping her against his warm chest.
“If I go, I will take you with me,” he said. “You should not have to be a slave.”
But as happy as the night with Rolf had made her, she was a slave, Thessela thought as she finally slipped back to her dormitory. She quietly slipped inside hoping to quietly slide onto her pallet and pretend that morning would never come.
(to be continued...)
As a slave of Ampelios, Thessela was assigned as a personal slave of Ampelios’ wife, Hypatia who was a slim attractive woman in her late thirties or early forties. She spent her time managing the house, visiting her friends, and doting on her three children. She kept Thessela and another young slave girl, Korinna, close to her at all times, except during the evenings when she spent time privately with her family. Korinna was blonde and petite with a delicate small breasted figure. As personal slaves to the mistress, they had more free time than some of the other female slaves and so it was natural that they became friends. Ampelios was rich enough that he could apparently afford the luxury of not working his slaves to the bone.
Ampelios had made a fortune selling wine and olive oil across the Mediterranean. He had large olive groves and vinyards around Corinth. His estate was organized around a large whitewashed villa with a red tile roof. The house itself was surrounded by landscaped gardens, with well-gravelled paths leading from the road to the house. It was set back from the main gate about 50 meters and was built in a Roman style with an arched doorway leading into a spacious marble-floored anteroom. One could look out through the anteroom into the central courtyard of the house with its flowerbeds, flagstone floor, and central pool, deep enough for swimming. A colonnaded promenade surrounded the courtyard, forming a large square, with all the other rooms of the house opening onto the promenade.
The slaves lived in a set of dormitory quarters on the estate to the rear of the house, but close enough that they could be summoned quickly. There was one dormitory for the 20 or so female slaves, complete with a basic bath chamber. Ampelios expected his slaves to be clean and well groomed. Each girl had her own pallet in the main bedchamber, which had a real flagstone floor. There were more dormitories for male slaves, since there were many field hands. Additionally, there was one smaller house that served as quarters for the two senior slaves, the children’s tutor, an educated Greek slave who knew several languages and mathematics, and Homeros, the majordomo or chief slave. Homeros, a middle-aged muscular man with a pot belly and short legs, was in charge of work rosters, discipline, and ensuring that things around the estate ran efficiently.
He was also obviously interested in Thessela, not even trying to conceal his lust, which made her uneasy. She had never had much attention from men, having been kept as almost a slave by her uncle before he sold her into actual slavery. She had had one lover in her teens, before her parents had died, a boy she had known in her home village. He had been sweet and awkward, and she had imagined that he loved her as they had untangled each other from their clothing and then tangled themselves in each other. She may not have had much previous experience with men, but knew that she felt revulsion at the thought of Homeros.
“Watch out for him,” said Korinna, “I think he wants you, and you don’t look like you want him.”
“No,” said Thessela. “The thought of him makes me ill. What should I do?”
“Stay away from his quarters, and hope he stops wanting you. Not very helpful, I'm afraid, but female slaves are the lowest rung of the ladder,” said Korinna unhappily. Thessela shuddered and instinctively hugged her arms around herself at the thought of Homeros touching her.
What was worse was that she had not heard from Rolf in the month since they had arrived together. All his talk of how pleased he was that they were both sold to the same master didn't seem to mean anything. She knew she shouldn’t want him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He had looked at her with his searing blue Nordic eyes, so different from the other men, and she had reacted instantly to him. She was sure he had felt something for her as well, but he had never come to find her during any of her free evenings. She had seen him occasionally leaving on some slave errand in the morning with Ampelios, or at some other time when she was herself busy with her mistress, but he had never looked for her. She wondered if he had forgotten her. "I am only a slave," she told herself. "I don't get what I want."
Homeros was an entirely different matter. He had a habit of walking into the women’s dormitory on some administrative pretext without announcement. He used friendly words when other slaves were also present, but Thessela saw the predatory look on his face when he talked to her, and felt his eyes on her breasts, or watching her when he came to the main house while she worked.
Then, Ampelios took Homeros and a number of field slaves to check on a blight in one of the olive groves. They were gone a week. Thessela hoped that in that time Homeros would tire of thinking about her, but it was pleasant just to work and not worry about his unwanted advances. She was reflecting how nice this was while she and Korinna were on their way back to the dormitory as the sun was setting, the night Ampelios returned home. He had arrived home early, and in a clearly amorous mood. Hypatia had blushed and quickly dismissed the slave girls, as her husband had already started to loosen her dress. Thessela and Korinna had the whole evening free, it seemed.
And suddenly on the gravel path, there was Rolf, looking big and tired after a day of work, stubble on his chin making his face more rugged looking. When he saw Thessela, though, an intensity came back into his eyes. Thessela felt his look like an electric tingle, and her heart beat faster. She had wanted to see him again, but now that he was here, she didn’t know what to say. She just stood and stared at him, the large well-built nordic man in front of her. Korinna smiled and squeezed her hand, and tactfully ran down the path to the dormitory, leaving Thessela alone with Rolf on the path.
“Thessela,” said Rolf finally.
“What…?” stammered Thessela, wanting to be calm, but finding it impossible. “How… I don’t…”
“I think of you every day,” said Rolf. “Now I find you again. I am happy. I see you here in the last month, and I want to talk to you, but…”
Something snapped. All the longing and waiting and frustration came out. “You saw me? You never spoke to me. You never smile at me. You told me you were happy I would be here, but since we got here you never once…” she trailed off suddenly frightened at how bold she was becoming. She didn't want to lose herself to him. “It’s alright. It has to be alright. I’m just a slave. I need to go bathe. Excuse me.” She dropped her eyes and moved to go past him to her dormitory.
“No,” he said intensely, grabbing her arm to stop her. “Every day, I have to go to markets, to fields of olives, to carry things from ships. Sometimes I am a serving man at a party. I leave here early, I work, I return late, and every day I say I will speak to you today, I will see you today, and then you are not there, or you are also working or you are sleeping. Now you are here, and I am here, and I will speak to you.”
“Why did you not come to me when you came back? Even if it was late?” she asked not daring to look at him.
“You are sleeping. I say it will not be fair to wake you.” He sounded awkward.
She looked up at him finally, hesitantly. Looked into his eyes. “You want to speak to me,” she said, her voice sounding more calm than the trembling she felt.
He stared at her. “I thought I wanted to speak,” he said. “Now I forget what I was going to say.”
“I told myself I was a slave,” she said quietly. “I said slaves shouldn’t want things. But I wanted you.” The last phrase was a whisper, and she quickly dropped her eyes again.
Rolf cupped her chin in his large rough hand, gently lifting her face to look at him again. He kissed her softly on the lips. “To me you are not a slave. Come to me tonight. We can meet in the garden behind your quarters. I do not want you to vanish again.”
She found herself staring into his eyes and nodding, feeling the warmth of his kiss still on her lips. “I will come,” she said. She couldn’t believe she had promised to meet him. She blushed, and suddenly pulled her arm free from his grip and ran down the path to her dormitory, as if it would shield her from her own desires.
She found Korinna in the sleeping room, naked and preparing to go for her bath. Her small pale breasts were tipped with pale pink tips. Several other slave women were resting, making repairs to clothing, or sleeping.
“You like this big foreign slave,” Korinna said smiling as she came over to Thessela and took her hands in hers. Thessela was only 5 feet 5 inches tall, but Korinna was smaller still.
“Yes”, said Thessela unhappily. “But I am a slave. I should not want things. I will only be unhappy.”
“Silly,” said Korinna. “He likes you too. Why should you not want? Why should you not have some happiness. You are beautiful,” she added, coming to Thessela and starting to undo her dress. She slipped the dress off Thessela’s shoulders and it dropped to the floor around her ankles. Korinna pressed her small body against Thessela’s letting their breasts touch and caressing Thessela’s back and bum. Thessela felt the rise of desire, but also heat all over her body, as she was embraced so intimately in front of the other slave women. Korinna gave her a quick soft kiss on her lips, took her hand and led her to the bath. “We will have a bath,” she said, “and then you will go meet your man.”
The slave women’s bath was small, but had several wash basins fed by pipes from the aqueduct. The women started to wash, using linen cloths. Thessela couldn’t stop feeling nervous about what she was doing, meeting Rolf, who she felt that she had hardly met, but she knew she would go. It was as if she was a slave there as well, without a choice.
“Well, isn’t this pretty,” said an oily voice. Homeros sauntered into the bath chamber. Thessela shrieked, brought out of her reverie, and covered her breasts with her arm. Korinna simply looked annoyed.
“Go away, Homeros,” she said.
Homeros ignored her and came to stand in front of Thessela. Thessela cringed at the idea that she was naked in front of him and that he might touch her. “I’ve always wanted to bed a fancy slave girl from the Phoenician’s shop. Come to my quarters , and I will show you what pleasure is.” His hand moved quickly and caught Thessela’s arm.
“No,” she cried. “I won’t…”
“What?” said Homeros. “Think you’re too upscale for the likes of me? Stupid bitch!” He slapped her hard across the face. “I’m the majordomo here.”
“Get out!” yelled Korinna, “leave her alone. She doesn’t want you.”
“You watch your place, girl,” growled Homeros. “She’s just another female slave who…”
“I will tell the mistress how you abuse us,” said Korinna hotly. “You know the mistress likes Thessela, and she will tell the master you are hurting the female slaves. The master won't want his wife upset.”
Homeros glared at Korinna, but pushed Thessela away. “I’m not done with you,” he hissed. You think you’re too fancy and upscale for me? I’ll cut you down to size one of these days.” Homeros left and was soon heard arguing with the male slaves outside and herding them to their quarters.
Thessela got the distinct impression she had made an enemy, and she wasn’t quite sure how. She was just relieved he had gone. She collapsed on the bath chamber floor and broke down in tears. Korinna moved quickly over to embrace her.
“Don’t worry about him,” said Korinna. “He's afraid of making the mistress unhappy by treating you badly. He won’t do anything to hurt his position.” She winked. “Now dry your eyes and go.”
Thessela looked around nervously as she slipped out the back of the dormitory, almost expecting to see Homeros lurking in the shadows waiting for her, but the coast was clear. She slipped quickly down the path in the twilight and into the garden. By day the garden was a pretty place of tall thin cypress trees with bright colourful flower beds. There was a small shallow pool in the center surrounded by a well kept lawn that formed the center of the garden. By night it was a place of darker shapes, soft water sounds from the pool, and the tropical smells of flowers and cut grass. It was an almost magical place she thought, but she was nevertheless aware that she was alone in the dark, and wondered again if this was a smart thing to do. She didn’t see Rolf.
“Are you here,” she whispered, as she found her way across the small stretch of grass to the pool.
A large rough warm hand found hers and pulled her forward. Her body was suddenly up against a broad warm chest. Rolf’s arms were around her and he was tipping back her head as his lips took hers. “You came,” she gasped.
“I will always come for you,” he said. He pulled her more tightly against him, and she felt the evidence of his feelings hard against her abdomen through his leather slave shorts.
“I don’t want words,” she heard herself say. “I’m afraid. If I think about this, I won’t…”
He interrupted her by sliding his large hand down over the swell of her bottom, kissing her at the base of her neck, while his other hand started undoing her dress. "Everybody is undressing me today," she thought. Then one of his hands was caressing the side of her breast, while the other moved over her bum, pulling her body against him again, and she stopped thinking. He looked down at her as his hand teased her breast, his rough hands so gentle, moving closer to the nipple, never quite getting there. She felt her dress slip down to her waist as he finally cupped one of her breasts, feeling it fit into his warm hand. His other hand moved to slip her out of her dress the rest of the way.
“Touch me,” she gasped. “Please.”
He lowered her to the grass, still warm from the afternoon heat, sliding his hand up the inside of her thighs. She felt herself blush, as she let him part her legs. He was pushing her arms up above her head, stretching her breasts against her chest as he took one of her nipples into his mouth. She gasped as his hand slid down her belly and lightly stroked over the triangle of hair of her mons. His finger separated the lips of her sex and found the hot moisture as she pressed against his hand.
“Oh,” she gasped, as she tugged at him. She suddenly realized that he was not wearing anything, as he moved to cover her, his arms on either side of her torso. Then it was not his hand parting her, and he was looking down into her eyes as if she was his whole world, and she opened for him and impaled herself on him. She heard herself groan as he started to fill her, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in. “Just for tonight,” she said, “I will want someone. Just for tonight.” And then she stopped thinking as he drove himself deep into her and she grabbed his shoulders and held him, pulling him deep and hard into her until her world became all lights and shuddering sensation, and she felt him stiffen and tremble as she felt his liquid warmth inside her.
They lay on the grass wrapped in each other. “I am glad you came to me," Rolf said, tracing her breast with his finger.
“I couldn't stop wanting you,” she said. “Now I’m afraid I will lose you.”
“Remember I said once that I would go?” said Rolf. “I would go to my home again?”
“Yes, I remember,” she felt a chill at the thought of him leaving, at the thought of Homeros and his threats, but Rolf pulled her into his embrace, wrapping her against his warm chest.
“If I go, I will take you with me,” he said. “You should not have to be a slave.”
But as happy as the night with Rolf had made her, she was a slave, Thessela thought as she finally slipped back to her dormitory. She quietly slipped inside hoping to quietly slide onto her pallet and pretend that morning would never come.
(to be continued...)
