Free Bred by the Spartans by Emily Tilton

sensations, and the same terrible, shameful pleasure, but her mind had not been able to order those feelings at all. Now, with time and experience of her new mortal existence, it seemed to her that her mind had grown clearer even than it had been on Olympus. Thaleia seemed to understand the cosmos, and her place in it, as she had never understood it before.
    Thaleia wanted to tell Argeia that everything had come out well, and not to hold sorrow in her heart for her. The thought of sweet Argeia, whom Thaleia would never see again, brought tears to her eyes as they led her to the wagon. If only there were some way she could see Argeia one more time, to show her that even the breaking had not truly broken Thaleia. Pictures of the many hours she had spent playing girlish games with her sister filled her mind, but, strangely, those pictures made the ache easier to bear, for they brought her thoughts back to the new, exciting world of the lands of men. Again she became conscious, as she watched the way the attendants treated her, of her own power, which she had gained when she had lost her immortality.
    They were strange thoughts to have, she could not help but realize, as the two attendants who were not driving made her kneel in the back of the wagon and suck their cocks as the wagon passed up the road from Olympia to Delphi, while curious onlookers shouted encouragement and suggestions. Though she understood so much else now, Thaleia could not yet comprehend how hearing those bawdy shouts about her own body, “Look at that sweet little cunt!” and “They’re going to love that bottom in Corinth!” and “Oho! Little miss got whipped, did she?” somehow drove her wild with the fire of Eros, and made her wantonly thrust her hand between her legs, to rub her furrow and put on an even naughtier show for the men they passed on the road.
    When they changed drivers, and the attendant who had not yet had his turn put her face-down over the passenger bench in the wagon and had her with his cock that way, while the third waited for another turn, Thaleia could not keep herself from crying out with the pleasure, both inside her secret grotto and inside her mind, at the thought that they were making her do the deeds of Eros in a wagon, on a road, going to Corinth where she would be sold into slavery and a life of just such humiliating service to the lusts of men.
    When they stopped to water the oxen, the attendants, themselves exhausted, gave in to the pleas of a little group of shepherds, charging them a drachma to take Thaleia off the wagon and have her by the fountain. The shepherds, five in all, put her on her knees and took turns thrusting into her mouth, for the attendants had driven a hard bargain and the shepherds had not been able to afford the extra drachma to use Thaleia’s secret furrow.
    Thaleia’s eyes watered as the oldest of the shepherds, who clearly had the most experience, took her hair in his hand and held her mouth still while he thrust himself rapidly in and out, saying “See, lads, do it like this. Hold the hair and thrust as deep as you like. It’s even better than plowing her furrow.” There was quiet then except for the wet sounds of the shepherd’s cock going in and out, and Thaleia felt again the floating feeling of strange contentment at being used and humiliated. The shepherd tasted of the dust of the road, and that made Thaleia feel dirty herself—but somehow, too, she wanted to be dirty, filthy, base.
    The shepherd said, “Then when you’re ready, you pull out and…” He did just that. Thaleia’s eyes had been closed, but she opened them, and saw the shepherd pumping his cock in his hand, and then his white seed jetted out and onto her face, and now she was as filthy as she had craved to be.
    One by one the other four shepherds took his place, and, as the leader gave them little lessons in how to use a slut like Thaleia, they filled her mouth with their cocks, and spilled their seed on her face