The Taverngirl

[Zungur]

'She's mine now!'



Sami shivered as she heard the clink of coins, and the note of satisfaction in Agenor's voice. For all his skill in in the pantomime of bargaining, she'd known in her bones that he was determined to buy her. In her young years in the tavern, she'd learnt a lot about the ways of men, especially of a man wanting a woman and it did not matter much where he came from.



And now, just darkness ahead. It felt strange, she'd loathed every hour of her life in the tavern, surely no owner could be worse than that miserable old miser Zabdi? And yet ... and yet, that rotten cellar had been home, she'd come to know every damp, dirty corner, every twist of her master's wrinkled face, she'd learnt how to live there. But what now?



She'd not learnt much about the world outside that smelly corner of the city. But she'd glimpsed strange beasts, gorgeous trappings and ornaments, men in strange, savage robes armed with daggers in jewelled sheaths, she'd smelt mysterious exotic scents from the sacks and flasks the camels carried. And she'd picked up stories from old women in the market-place, when she'd dared to waste a few minutes listening to their chattering, tales of princes and noble ladies, of djinns and fairies, even of silk-dressed slave-girls whose lives seemed so different from hers.

She dozed, despite the chafing iron shackles around her wrists that had replaced the once precious blue ribbon. Her busy brain needed no opiates to feed her with wild dreams, mixing dread with strange desire, carrying the captive forward into the mysterious, fearful yet thrilling, future ...



Thank you so much, @Eulalia , for the wonderful text!

 

[Loinclothslave]

@Zungur

Such a nice catch up, and how wonderful to see sami finally sold and in chains. A fantastic image you drew above! this one sincerely hopes you plan a chapter on her journey to the east? I adore the fantasy of being in a slave coffle in chains, encouraged by the lash on a long journey… and where will you take us after that?

 

[Zungur]

@Zungur

Such a nice catch up, and how wonderful to see sami finally sold and in chains. A fantastic image you drew above! this one sincerely hopes you plan a chapter on her journey to the east? I adore the fantasy of being in a slave coffle in chains, encouraged by the lash on a long journey… and where will you take us after that?

I'm sure that's exactly what little Sami wonders about.

I had to take a break from serious drawing, but I hope to pick up the different stories soon again.

 

[Zungur]

With a kick some brute woke Sami out of her uneasy sleep long before sunrise. The chain was unlocked from her ankle, she was hauled up and herded along some corridors into a large courtyard where the caravan was already assembled.

Someone thrust a bag into her hands, bellowing: “You’ll carry this!”

She thought herself lucky that, whatever its contents were, it did not weigh much, but she knew that it would feel much heavier the longer she had to carry it.

Practised since she could first toddle, she was able to hold it on her head even with her hands chained together.

There were several other slaves, male and female, but they were separated so they would not be able to slow the caravan down as a group. Sami found herself tied to a stinking camel. She always had been afraid of these huge beasts and she prayed it would not kick her.

Behind her a small donkey was the next in line, looking terribly sad and almost disappearing under its huge burden. She pitied the animal but she knew it was wise to stay away from its teeth as far as her chain allowed.

Whips cracked, men shouted and the caravan started to move.

Sami wanted to scream ‘No! No please! Don’t take me away from the only place I know!’ but she knew it would only earn her a beating.

Her heart pounded and she sobbed as she tried to take in as much as she could of the familiar streets and sights as they plodded through the early morning light. The city was eerily quiet.

Sami realised it was the Sabbath of the Passover, yet this was a more than ordinary silence, a musty scent of death seemed to float in the chilly air, crows croaked, vultures circled above, the grunting camels clopped on.

Sami's city seemed to be passing away, she was being led into exile, into the wilderness ...

The procession came to a halt near the Gennath Gate. For a moment she hoped the guards would stop the smugglers and she would stay in the city, but obviously Roman soldiers, mercenaries from some barbarian borderlands, were no less eager to accept bribes than the petty city officials and tax-gatherers.

They left the city and Sami despaired as they plodded down towards the valley of Gehenna, with its ever-smouldering piles and pits of stinking rubbish.

But as they passed the hill of Golgotha she remembered the man who had been crucified there yesterday. He would still be alive, she thought, alive and in agony and certain to die.

‘Get a grip, girl,’ she told herself. ‘That poor crazy bastard over there has reason to despair, you don’t!’

When the sun rose, they were far from the city, shuffling along a road not much used by honest travellers, through rocky, scrubby country where a few scrawny goats were grazing on scanty vegetation. Sami's body was covered with sweat and dust.

‘I'm smelling not much better than this camel now,’ Sami thought. ‘I hope Mr. Donkey behind me won't complain.’ She could not help but chuckle at this thought.

‘If they'd send the water-boy around more often with his bag, all this wouldn't be too bad. I had worse days at the tavern... uh-uh, what's this, then?’

Just then she felt a stick lifting the remains of her ragged dress around her backside.

“Hello, little one. Nice little ass you've got there”.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then turned around, as she had learnt to do when men pinched her bottom in the tavern, to face the ragged camel-driver behind her. Seeing he was one of the free men, she gave him a well-practiced smile, lowering her eyes modestly.

“Girls that are nice to Uday have a lighter load to carry – don’t you forget that, sweety!”

Sami just bowed her head and bent her knee in acknowledgement. Nothing new, this was always part of a slave-girls life, wasn’t it? She turned and trudged on, keeping step with the camel.



Thanks to @Eulalia , for the vastly improving the text!

 

[Fossy]

With a kick some brute woke Sami out of her uneasy sleep long before sunrise. The chain was unlocked from her ankle, she was hauled up and herded along some corridors into a large courtyard where the caravan was already assembled.

Someone thrust a bag into her hands, bellowing: “You’ll carry this!”

She thought herself lucky that, whatever its contents were, it did not weigh much, but she knew that it would feel much heavier the longer she had to carry it.

Practised since she could first toddle, she was able to hold it on her head even with her hands chained together.

There were several other slaves, male and female, but they were separated so they would not be able to slow the caravan down as a group. Sami found herself tied to a stinking camel. She always had been afraid of these huge beasts and she prayed it would not kick her.

Behind her a small donkey was the next in line, looking terribly sad and almost disappearing under its huge burden. She pitied the animal but she knew it was wise to stay away from its teeth as far as her chain allowed.

Whips cracked, men shouted and the caravan started to move.

Sami wanted to scream ‘No! No please! Don’t take me away from the only place I know!’ but she knew it would only earn her a beating.

Her heart pounded and she sobbed as she tried to take in as much as she could of the familiar streets and sights as they plodded through the early morning light. The city was eerily quiet.

Sami realised it was the Sabbath of the Passover, yet this was a more than ordinary silence, a musty scent of death seemed to float in the chilly air, crows croaked, vultures circled above, the grunting camels clopped on.

Sami's city seemed to be passing away, she was being led into exile, into the wilderness ...

The procession came to a halt near the Gennath Gate. For a moment she hoped the guards would stop the smugglers and she would stay in the city, but obviously Roman soldiers, mercenaries from some barbarian borderlands, were no less eager to accept bribes than the petty city officials and tax-gatherers.

They left the city and Sami despaired as they plodded down towards the valley of Gehenna, with its ever-smouldering piles and pits of stinking rubbish.

But as they passed the hill of Golgotha she remembered the man who had been crucified there yesterday. He would still be alive, she thought, alive and in agony and certain to die.

‘Get a grip, girl,’ she told herself. ‘That poor crazy bastard over there has reason to despair, you don’t!’

When the sun rose, they were far from the city, shuffling along a road not much used by honest travellers, through rocky, scrubby country where a few scrawny goats were grazing on scanty vegetation. Sami's body was covered with sweat and dust.

‘I'm smelling not much better than this camel now,’ Sami thought. ‘I hope Mr. Donkey behind me won't complain.’ She could not help but chuckle at this thought.

‘If they'd send the water-boy around more often with his bag, all this wouldn't be too bad. I had worse days at the tavern... uh-uh, what's this, then?’

Just then she felt a stick lifting the remains of her ragged dress around her backside.

“Hello, little one. Nice little ass you've got there”.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then turned around, as she had learnt to do when men pinched her bottom in the tavern, to face the ragged camel-driver behind her. Seeing he was one of the free men, she gave him a well-practiced smile, lowering her eyes modestly.

“Girls that are nice to Uday have a lighter load to carry – don’t you forget that, sweety!”

Sami just bowed her head and bent her knee in acknowledgement. Nothing new, this was always part of a slave-girls life, wasn’t it? She turned and trudged on, keeping step with the camel.

View attachment 1442678

Thanks to @Eulalia , for the vastly improving the text!

Good stuff. I enjoyed the detail, very erotic when he lifted her skimpy shift with his stick. Looking forward to the next piece

 

[Loinclothslave]

With a kick some brute woke Sami out of her uneasy sleep long before sunrise. The chain was unlocked from her ankle, she was hauled up and herded along some corridors into a large courtyard where the caravan was already assembled.

Someone thrust a bag into her hands, bellowing: “You’ll carry this!”

She thought herself lucky that, whatever its contents were, it did not weigh much, but she knew that it would feel much heavier the longer she had to carry it.

Practised since she could first toddle, she was able to hold it on her head even with her hands chained together.

There were several other slaves, male and female, but they were separated so they would not be able to slow the caravan down as a group. Sami found herself tied to a stinking camel. She always had been afraid of these huge beasts and she prayed it would not kick her.

Behind her a small donkey was the next in line, looking terribly sad and almost disappearing under its huge burden. She pitied the animal but she knew it was wise to stay away from its teeth as far as her chain allowed.

Whips cracked, men shouted and the caravan started to move.

Sami wanted to scream ‘No! No please! Don’t take me away from the only place I know!’ but she knew it would only earn her a beating.

Her heart pounded and she sobbed as she tried to take in as much as she could of the familiar streets and sights as they plodded through the early morning light. The city was eerily quiet.

Sami realised it was the Sabbath of the Passover, yet this was a more than ordinary silence, a musty scent of death seemed to float in the chilly air, crows croaked, vultures circled above, the grunting camels clopped on.

Sami's city seemed to be passing away, she was being led into exile, into the wilderness ...

The procession came to a halt near the Gennath Gate. For a moment she hoped the guards would stop the smugglers and she would stay in the city, but obviously Roman soldiers, mercenaries from some barbarian borderlands, were no less eager to accept bribes than the petty city officials and tax-gatherers.

They left the city and Sami despaired as they plodded down towards the valley of Gehenna, with its ever-smouldering piles and pits of stinking rubbish.

But as they passed the hill of Golgotha she remembered the man who had been crucified there yesterday. He would still be alive, she thought, alive and in agony and certain to die.

‘Get a grip, girl,’ she told herself. ‘That poor crazy bastard over there has reason to despair, you don’t!’

When the sun rose, they were far from the city, shuffling along a road not much used by honest travellers, through rocky, scrubby country where a few scrawny goats were grazing on scanty vegetation. Sami's body was covered with sweat and dust.

‘I'm smelling not much better than this camel now,’ Sami thought. ‘I hope Mr. Donkey behind me won't complain.’ She could not help but chuckle at this thought.

‘If they'd send the water-boy around more often with his bag, all this wouldn't be too bad. I had worse days at the tavern... uh-uh, what's this, then?’

Just then she felt a stick lifting the remains of her ragged dress around her backside.

“Hello, little one. Nice little ass you've got there”.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then turned around, as she had learnt to do when men pinched her bottom in the tavern, to face the ragged camel-driver behind her. Seeing he was one of the free men, she gave him a well-practiced smile, lowering her eyes modestly.

“Girls that are nice to Uday have a lighter load to carry – don’t you forget that, sweety!”

Sami just bowed her head and bent her knee in acknowledgement. Nothing new, this was always part of a slave-girls life, wasn’t it? She turned and trudged on, keeping step with the camel.

View attachment 1442678

Thanks to @Eulalia , for the vastly improving the text!

Great chapter and lovely erotic sketch. I love slave coffles and it’s rare to even get a chapter of one, I am very grateful for the effort from you and of course slavegirl @Eulalia who is probably reading the story as if she was sami just like I am!

Tied to a camel with wrists shackled carrying a small bundle is definitely the luxury class of slave coffles! I’ve been forced to wear heavy fetters, my wrist chains connected to an extremely heavy box I carry on my head. I am not tied to the coffle I’m in by a nice rope to a camel but instead a heavy chain connecting my collar to those of the other male slaves. I am sure our overseers are paid by the whip strike as I feel the kiss of the whip often across my bare back… and I trudge on, feeling very much a slave…

 

[Zungur]

It was almost noon when the caravan reached a place in a dry riverbed, where a trickling spring had created a pool sufficient to water the animals.

Like the other slaves, Sami had to help to unload the pack animals. Then she was ordered to keep a a little fire going, boiling water to prepare peppermint tea for the masters. She was glad of a task that let her squat down and rest her legs a little, and other slaves had been commanded to put up some shades over the eating area, so she was spared the blazing noonday sun. All the same, her body was streaming, her scanty rags sodden, as she crouched over the steaming pot, gently stirring.

“Hey girl, come over here!” she heard a hoarse voice calling. An older man, a member of the small group of guards, was waving at her with a lump of flatbread.

“Come here, and you can earn yourself a meal. You look starved, little one, I'll add an onion, if you're a good girl.”

For a moment Sami wondered how anyone could find her attractive, dirty, weary and sweat-soaked as she was, but in the tavern she had learned enough to know that men usually didn’t care about anything as long as they were horny, though they'd often treat a girl they'd just praised with utter contempt once they'd spilled their seed.

She gave the man a practiced smile, and knelt down in front of him.

“Here girl, suck my dick! Your sweet lips look as if they were made for this.”

Even if they weren't, Sami knew well enough what to do. Obediently, she lowered her head and started to work. She was thankful the thing was already hard, because she knew how angry men would get with a girl when they failed to perform. At least this did not seem to be a problem here, she hoped she could suck him off quickly and get some food.

“Ah, you are a sweet little one! You're doing this really well.”

The man stroked her hair, as she tried to please him as well as she knew she could.

“If I had the money, I’d buy myself a little slave-girl like you and I’d keep you my hou ... ohh yes! Just like that! Don’t stop!”

“Now wouldn’t that be nice?” Sami thought, “Even with an ugly old bloke like this? Just one master to serve and do his chores. It's the best a slave-girl can even dream of. But I bet there would be a nasty mistress .. and anyway, he’d sell me as soon as he’d got tired of me. But still ...”

She winced, feeling a rough hand fingering her ass.

“Don’t listen to him!” Growled the voice of Uday the camel-driver. “He tells this yarn to every girl who has his dick between her lips. He’ll never earn enough anyway. Get him done quickly and I’ll show you what a real man can do with your cunt.”

“Yah, Uday,” the guard retorted, “do me a favour, piss off and wait till it's your turn.”

“Then hurry up, old man! That slut needs a hard fuck. That’s the way to treat them, and they'll love you for it!”

“Uday, Uday, you’ll never learn. Jerking off after three pokes isn’t what the girls want. And I'll tell you for sure, they even like your crab lice better than they like you!”

Some other men had overheard the banter, and started to laugh as Uday turned away red-faced.

“Don’t worry girl, I’ll keep you with me until we start again. You’ll get your bread, and time to eat it. Just keep on doing this ... oh yes ... just like that ..."



(As always big thanks to @Eulalia for vastly improving the text!)

 

[fallenmystic]

I regret I don't have enough time to read all the great stories on CF at the moment. But I'm glad that I managed to enjoy your latest one today.

What I love about your works is how they feel like they are all based on a world with consistent culture somewhere out there, where things like half-naked slave girls are things of daily life.

I can easily imagine myself being one of them while I read your story or see the accompanying illustrations.

Thanks for the great work, as always!

 

[Zungur]

I regret I don't have enough time to read all the great stories on CF at the moment. But I'm glad that I managed to enjoy your latest one today.

What I love about your works is how they feel like they are all based on a world with consistent culture somewhere out there, where things like half-naked slave girls are things of daily life.

I can easily imagine myself being one of them while I read your story or see the accompanying illustrations.

Thanks for the great work, as always!

Thank you!
In contrast to my other stories this one is set in real history even with a fixed date and specific point of time.
Eulalia and me are having long discussions about minor details (like the possible location of the tavern in ancient Jerusalem, the price of slaves in the east of the Roman empire at the beginning of the 1st cent. AD and other such things, nobody ever will notice or care about ) and I used a not yet published monograph on wall building techniques for the picture in the streets of Jerusalem.
So we give quite some thought to make this one consistent.
I have to admit that Sami's collar and shackles are fantasy, because it's just more convenient to draw.

 

[fallenmystic]

Thank you!
In contrast to my other stories this one is set in real history even with a fixed date and specific point of time.
Eulalia and me are having long discussions about minor details (like the possible location of the tavern in ancient Jerusalem, the price of slaves in the east of the Roman empire at the beginning of the 1st cent. AD and other such things, nobody ever will notice or care about ) and I used a not yet published monograph on wall building techniques for the picture in the streets of Jerusalem.
So we give quite some thought to make this one consistent.
I have to admit that Sami's collar and shackles are fantasy, because it's just more convenient to draw.

No wonder why your world feels so detailed and vivid.

 

[Loinclothslave]

Thank you!
In contrast to my other stories this one is set in real history even with a fixed date and specific point of time.
Eulalia and me are having long discussions about minor details (like the possible location of the tavern in ancient Jerusalem, the price of slaves in the east of the Roman empire at the beginning of the 1st cent. AD

ooooohhh, I, for one, would be very interested in what the going rate for slaves was during this time period! One of my fantasies is to be a slave sold cheaply as a mark of my extremely lowly status, but I’ve got little idea what a realistic value would normally be, nor how cheap I’d need to be sold as to be considered basically worthless enough for Master to not worry about harsh, neglectful treatment…

and other such things, nobody ever will notice or care about )

Hmmm, I would love to know more!

and I used a not yet published monograph on wall building techniques for the picture in the streets of Jerusalem.

Amazing attention to detail!

So we give quite some thought to make this one consistent.
I have to admit that Sami's collar and shackles are fantasy, because it's just more convenient to draw.

Yes, at some point hyperrealism should take a backseat to fantasy elements we desire or like to draw, etc…

I really appreciate the effort you and @Eulalia are putting into this joint project, thank you!

 

[Zungur]

ooooohhh, I, for one, would be very interested in what the going rate for slaves was during this time period! One of my fantasies is to be a slave sold cheaply as a mark of my extremely lowly status, but I’ve got little idea what a realistic value would normally be, nor how cheap I’d need to be sold as to be considered basically worthless enough for Master to not worry about harsh, neglectful treatment…


Hmmm, I would love to know more!

Amazing attention to detail!


Yes, at some point hyperrealism should take a backseat to fantasy elements we desire or like to draw, etc…

I really appreciate the effort you and @Eulalia are putting into this joint project, thank you!

Simple answer to your question about a slave's value: You can't say.
It really depends on the very specific situation and point of time. If there was demand in your corner of the world the prices would be high, if a succesful campaign would flood the market with fresh slaves they could be low the next day, this would not have an effect on other parts of the empire and there are simply not enough sources to determine the prices everywhere and at all times.

Basically I follow the rule: a fantasy story should contain just as much fantasy as necessary and as much realism as possible. Otherwise it loses relevance. In this specific case (collar and shackles) it is a mixture of lack of real life evidence and my lazyness to look for it and not least the fact that I did draw the title page before we decided to set the story in historical reality. The lock on Sami's chain in picture 6 is original Roman though.

 

[Dauphin]

'She's mine now!'



Sami shivered as she heard the clink of coins, and the note of satisfaction in Agenor's voice. For all his skill in in the pantomime of bargaining, she'd known in her bones that he was determined to buy her. In her young years in the tavern, she'd learnt a lot about the ways of men, especially of a man wanting a woman and it did not matter much where he came from.



And now, just darkness ahead. It felt strange, she'd loathed every hour of her life in the tavern, surely no owner could be worse than that miserable old miser Zabdi? And yet ... and yet, that rotten cellar had been home, she'd come to know every damp, dirty corner, every twist of her master's wrinkled face, she'd learnt how to live there. But what now?



She'd not learnt much about the world outside that smelly corner of the city. But she'd glimpsed strange beasts, gorgeous trappings and ornaments, men in strange, savage robes armed with daggers in jewelled sheaths, she'd smelt mysterious exotic scents from the sacks and flasks the camels carried. And she'd picked up stories from old women in the market-place, when she'd dared to waste a few minutes listening to their chattering, tales of princes and noble ladies, of djinns and fairies, even of silk-dressed slave-girls whose lives seemed so different from hers.

She dozed, despite the chafing iron shackles around her wrists that had replaced the once precious blue ribbon. Her busy brain needed no opiates to feed her with wild dreams, mixing dread with strange desire, carrying the captive forward into the mysterious, fearful yet thrilling, future ...

View attachment 1405721

Thank you so much, @Eulalia , for the wonderful text!

I love this story. A slave girl who grew up as a whore in a tavern. She is used to serving guests half-naked. Anyone can touch the whore, anyone can freely touch her breasts, her bottom, her pussy and even her anus. Whoever pays can use this slave.

She knows men's looks and understands when a guest is willing to pay for her. As a slave, she is a mindless object. She willingly endures everything the guests ask of her. Her body belongs to her owner.

It's completely normal for her to get on her knees and satisfy men orally. She swallows the sperm and continues her work. She knows that the men will roughly push her away once they have sprayed their semen down to her throat. Nobody ever asked how she feels after beeing used.

Now they put her in iron and sold her. Iron rings were forged around her neck and ankles and connected with heavy chains. She is a commodity like the amphorae between which she has to wait. No one bothers to cover her half-naked body. The slave was available as a whore to so many men that there was no longer any fear of loss of value in her body.

In the picture we see the slave waiting indifferently. She looks at us with an expectant look.

The slaves are used as pack animals for transport. They tied a rope around their neck, tie them to the animals and give them a load to carry. The whip allows no resistance.

 

[tinaslut]

Just love this story! The setting is perfect and the text alluring.

 

[Zungur]

Soon Sami settled into the routine of marching at night and resting during the hot hours of the day. At first the stops had been not much of a rest for the younger slaves, because the camel-drivers and the guards wanted to have their fun with them. But the attraction of having new playthings soon faded, and even the toughest ones were exhausted when the caravan-leader finally called a halt.



After unloading the animals, and cooking and serving some spicy beans and flatbread for one or two of the free men, she usually found time to eat the leftovers and snatch some sleep, maybe even more than she'd got in the Tavern.



During the second day’s rest she looked at the remains of her once pretty dress, sighed and decided that it was torn beyond repair. She ripped away the lower part of the skirt, that had been a nuisance when walking anyway, and tied it around her head as a protection against the sun – only to see a little later towels for exactly this purpose were being distributed to the slaves who needed them.



There were few female slaves in the caravan and only one roughly of Sami’s age. So, during the first few days Sami and Tabea – and one of the younger boys – were given the hardest time by the men during the rest-breaks, until the caravan-master himself intervened, because he needed to keep them in good shape.



The other slaves seemed indifferent or even hostile to the young ones, so the girls tended to spend time together whenever they could.



“You're good at making a fire, Sami! I wish I could get it going as quickly as you do!”

“I had to start a fire at cock-crow every morning in the tavern for the master’s breakfast and the early customers. Come here, I’ll show you.”

“So, you’ve been in a tavern?”

“Oh yes, nearly all my life, as much as I can remember.”

“I’ve been sold into slavery only a little while.” Tabea sobbed slightly.

“You were free? You had a family?”

“I did. My father rented a little shop close to the wall.”

“Your father ... I can remember my mother, but I never knew who my father was.”

Tabea shrugged: “You didn’t miss much. When I was small, he ignored me, but later ... well, he sometimes looked at me in this funny way ... and then he’d flog me for giving him indecent thoughts. I was supposed to be married as soon as he could find a man for me, but then he couldn’t pay what he owed for rent, so he decided to sell me and keep the shop.”

Her face brightened and she chuckled, “Since I’ve been a slave I've not got beaten so much as when I was free.”

“So, you were sold to a good master?”

“Not immediately. The slave dealer sold me to a lupanar. When they realised that I had no idea what those indecent thoughts were all about, they saw the need to teach me some basic things. By the way, do you have a sponge? I have a spare one if you need it.”

“Oh, thanks. But no need, if I could've got pregnant it would've happened long ago. In the tavern, this slave-girl learnt those basic things all too soon, like learning to count the lepta and read the tags on the wine-jars. One thing less to worry about.”

Tabea knew better than to probe any deeper and continued with her tale.

“I just wish we had more water to wash them out. Anyway, a rich young guy happened to see me when I’d been in the brothel for just a few days, and he bought me straightaway. That was the best time I ever had! At first, he couldn’t get enough of me, I was shagged stupid, but he had such a nice house, real Roman style! With a big bath and everything. I'd do anything to be chilling in a frigidarium just now!”

“Woah ... a Roman bath? I’ve never seen one from the inside.”

“It’s like heaven, I tell you! Even if you have to serve a master ...” she grinned mischievously, “well, if it’s the right master it can even be better.”

“But what happened? Why did he sell you?”

“He married. The daughter of a business partner. She did not like me and that was that for little Tabea.”

“Oh shit! So, that's how we've both found ourselves out here in the blazing desert, sold off so the men who should be taking care of us can keep their wretched businesses. And the Lord only knows where they're taking us! Men from the caravans sometimes came in the tavern, the ways they looked at me, the tone of whatever they were saying in their strange tongues, gave me the creeps – and when some of them took me into the back room, they had some very weird ways ...”

Sami paused, an anxious look in her eyes,

" I suppose we'll be stood up on the sale-stand in some souk, the ones who buy us will use us however they choose... "

She paused again, Tabea smiled encouragingly,

"I think you've got quite tough and canny from your life in the tavern!"

Sami nodded, "Well, yes – but this must be hard for you!”

Tabea shrugged again

“There’ll be another master. I’ll try to look pretty and sweet and hopefully it’ll be another rich one. Hey! Maybe we find one who buys both of us together. Then we fuck him until he passes out and we can spend all the day in the bath!”




As always many thanks to @Eulalia for the invaluable work on the text and the interesting discussions!

 

[Zungur]

Travelling through the desert was a strange, fearful experience for Sami. Spending nearly all her life in the narrow streets around the tavern, with only occasional errands that just took her to the grim outskirts with their smouldering rubbish heaps and the horrible hill of Golgotha, the sheer vastness of the sea of sand and scrub, and even more of the night sky - she simply couldn't believe there were so many lights in the heavens - filled the girl with awe and a sense of foreboding, a feeling of being watched by some being or beings, much more powerful than even her captors.


She was conscious of time, soon becoming well aware of the changes through the day and the night, in the heat of the sun and the chill of the darkness on her skin, of the movements of light and shadows, of the varied scents of the animals, of the cooking fires, of the desert itself.


And she counted the days. Although it evidently meant nothing to the camel-drivers, the weekly pattern, Sabbath to Sabbath, was programmed into her nervous system, and she knew how it moved along with the monthly changes in her body.


So, she was sure it must have been a week since that dawn when caravan left from Jerusalem, when they rested in a valley in the desert quite a while before sunrise, because the caravan master knew that this place was the last spot to find water for some distance.

As always, the slaves helped to unload the animals and served the men.


The girls found a place a bit away from the others. Sami wiped her face with the remains of her dress, while Tabea took hers off.


“Look at this! That idiot Uday's ripped a hole in it! It's lucky I've got a needle and thread to mend it!”

“Oh, I've never learnt to sew! Can you show me? Maybe I can do something with my dress as well.”

Tabea looked sceptical, “Sorry dear, but I think that one is ...”

They both looked up, screaming and shouting were coming from the camp ...




As always many thanks to @Eulalia for substantial additions to the text and editing my scribbling.