The Gallic Girl

Aquilius relaxed, lying on top of the girl. The perfect relief of emptied balls settled in his body. He wasn't bothering to hold her down anymore, but it didn't matter, because she had long since stopped struggling. While he was fucking her, all she could do was ride it out. Now she was clinging to him, her whole body trembling, her legs still clasped around him, and her arms tight across his back. She was clinging close against him as though he were all she had in the world. And she was burying her face in his chest.

Slowly, Aquilius shifted, took the girl by the chin, and tilted her face up to look into his. Wide-eyed, her face streaked with tears, her lip trembling, the girl looked at him. But there was no trace of defiance in her expression now. There was still fear, yes. But now she was gazing at him with a deep, soulful, childlike look in her beautiful eyes. She looked slightly lost, hazy and giddy, as though she knew she had forgotten something but couldn't have said what it was. But most of all, deep in her eyes, he saw the adoration slowly dawning. The sweet bliss of being fucked like the whore she was. The yearning for him to hold her, keep her, and use her like this again. The yearning to be owned by a man -- not to be a wife or a companion, but to be a toy, existing for nothing but the service of his cock.

He leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. He felt her quail -- and then after a moment, he felt her kissing him back. Pressing her lips against his, and her tongue into his mouth. Almost as though she couldn't stop herself.

"So," he murmured to her quietly. "I'm going to ask you for the third time. Tell me, you delicious little slave ... did your husband fuck you right?"

She hesitated. And then he saw something inside her yield, and melt away.

"No," she whispered. "No. He never fucked me like that. He never made me feel like this."

"And what do you feel, little whore?"

"All ... floaty. Like I'm drifting."

He kissed her again. "That's because you're discovering your true nature, you beautiful slut." And he stroked her hair. She snuggled in against him, her skin soft and smooth against his.

"Your husband," he told her, "never made you feel like this, because he respected you. I will never respect you." He felt a shiver run right through her body. "I will never respect you -- I will only keep you, and use you. You're my fuck object now, and nothing more. What are you, little girl?"

"I'm a fuck object," she breathed, a note of wonder in her voice.

"Good girl. Just a cunt to be pumped full of cum, a set of tits for me to play with, a mouth to worship my cock, and an ass to be flogged and fucked. That's all you are."

That shiver in her body again. She was huddling into his chest.

"Fuck my ass?" she repeated in a frightened whisper.

"Oh yes," he told her, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead. "It's going to hurt so much, little slave. But that doesn't matter, of course. All that matters is how good your peachy ass will feel to my cock."

She trembled. He pulled her against his chest, and unthinkingly she kissed his muscles. Then she looked up into his eyes again, wide-eyed and soulful, her gaze filled with submission.

"It's okay," he told her gently. "This is what you are. This is what every woman is, deep down. You just never understood before, because the men here never used you in the way you're meant to be used. But now," and he kissed her forehead again, "now you're discovering your true nature. You will never again make your own decisions about how your body gets used and enjoyed. And doesn't that feel good, little slut? Doesn't that feel right?"

"Yes," she whispered into his chest. "I want ... yes."

"You're going to be an obedient slut for me, aren't you?" he asked her.

She gazed into his eyes. He saw her hesitate -- the diminished remnants of her resistance struggling feebly against the deep, aching need that had woken up inside her. As she paused, he reached down, and bit her neck, right where her flesh was softest. She gave a long, shivering moan as he sucked hard on her tender skin. Then he stopped, and looked in her eyes again. He cupped her ass cheek in one hand and slowly squeezed, kneading her bruised flesh. He saw a swooning look of pleasure pass across her face.

"Aren't you?" he repeated.

And in the smallest, softest voice, she answered: "Yes. I'm an obedient slut."

"Good girl," he told her softly. "Now then. Now that you're starting to accept what you were made for, I think it's time you started showing me you're grateful."

She looked at him with confusion. Smirking, Aquilius slid his slackening cock out of her cunt -- she moaned and gasped as he withdrew from her -- then pushed her gently off the bed and onto her knees. Stretching, he sat up facing her, spreading his legs wide. She was kneeling on the ground for him, her eyes flicking between his face and his huge, semi-erect cock, still wet with her juices.

"You've got a lot of making up to do," he told her. "You've been such a bitch tonight. And I'm willing to bet that before tonight, you've been a bitch all your life. If you're going to learn to be a good little slut now, you're going to have to really show me you're ready to accept your real purpose. You're going to show me that you know your place, and you're grateful for being used like the fucktoy you are."

She shivered. He saw the tiniest hint of a frown creasing her face, and a questioning look appearing in her eyes. Her old ideas were trying to reassert themselves, pushing through the contented, floating bliss that she was sunk in, and making her feel anxious and confused. Immediately, Aquilius reached down, took hold of her hair, and slapped her hard in the face. She gasped and reeled -- and then she looked at him with that same adoring, doe-eyed look.

"What are you?" he asked her firmly.

This time there was no hesitation. "I'm a fuck object," she answered -- and there was a deep conviction in her voice. Aquilius smiled. "Good girl," he said.

He knew she wasn't fully broken yet. There would still be relapses, resistance, and moments when she remembered the way she'd been conditioned -- remembered the things she thought she believed about her independence and her value. He would have to break her, and break her again, and keep on training her over the coming days. She would need to be thrashed, flogged, face-fucked, filled with cum, and pounded repeatedly in her cunt and ass before she truly, finally submitted.

But he also knew that right now, she was his. He had broken through to her true self -- to the vulnerable, submissive, cock-starved girl that was buried inside every woman. The girl that wanted nothing but to serve and suck and submit to his pleasure. He could see the freedom in her face: the freedom that came from letting go, and abandoning all thought of resistance. The deep, all-embracing bliss of accepting what she was for.

Aquilius let go of her hair, and leaned back.

"Say your mouth is just for sucking cock."

Her lip trembled. But he knew her cunt was gushing with juices again.

"Say it," he ordered.

"My mouth is just for sucking cock."

"Good. Now say your cunt belongs to any man who wants to fuck you."

She looked up at him, startled. "Any man?"

"Oh yes," he smirked. "I own you now, but that doesn't mean I won't let anyone else have a go. Slaves always get shared around. When I'm ready, I'll be taking you to the officers' tent, and you'll get passed around and enjoyed like the fucktoy you are."

She was staring at him, wide-eyed. Her lip trembled again. But then she swallowed, and said: "My cunt belongs to any man who wants to fuck me."

Aquilius's smile broadened. "Well done. Now say you're a worthless whore who deserves to be used as a cumdump."

She gave a massive, whole-body shiver. Then she looked into his eyes.

"I'm a worthless whore who deserves to be used as a cumdump."

He stroked her hair. "Good girl. You're learning very, very well."

She leant into his hand, briefly closing her eyes in yielding bliss. Aquilius looked at her kneeling before him, naked and broken.

"Now," he said to her. "Time to start proving that you can be good. You're going to use that sweet little mouth to show me that you're grateful for being taught your place. Come on then, you dirty bitch. Show me what a devoted little slut you can be."

For one moment, she stared up at him with her big, beautiful hazel-green eyes. And then, as though melting into an unresisting acceptance, she bent forward. He didn't have to hold her face still. He didn't have to push himself into her mouth. He didn't have to force her at all. Obediently, willingly, Marcus Aquilius's new slave bent her head down, and took his cock into her wet, soft, passionately sucking mouth.

***

Hours later, the girl lay naked in his arms, quietly drifting off to sleep. He lay on his back with the girl curled against him, her head on his chest, his arm holding her in place. Her body felt soft, relaxed, untensed -- at peace.

He had come in her three more times, once in her mouth and twice more in her cunt. When he came in her mouth she had gulped it down obediently, almost eagerly. And every time he fucked her, he knew she was giving in, all over again, to the overwhelming bliss of letting everything go, and accepting that she was in the power of a man.

She would still need to be bound and kept under guard with the others when they broke camp. He couldn't yet trust that some impulse to run away might not rise in her. But in good time, he knew she would become a totally obedient, devoted toy. Tomorrow night, he would fuck her ass -- and even now, his cock twitched at the thought of the noises she would make. Sliding his big, thick, powerful cock into her peachy, tight little ass was going to be the most ecstatic pleasure for him. She would scream and sob while he fucked her; and when he was done, she would know a form of submission and service she had never imagined. It would make her even more completely his slut.

He remembered the black-haired girl he had sent to be gangbanged in the ass by the soldiers. He wondered if they were done with her yet. Probably not, even at this hour. She would be fun at the officers' next orgy: he knew she would be reduced to a crawling, begging, cock-starved slut, who presented her ass for fucking at the slightest word of command. There had been a lot of cute girls in the line-up tonight, and he was already looking forward to getting them all back into the officers' tent and sharing them around. That was always a highlight of getting a new batch of captives: there were few scenes Aquilius enjoyed more than a tent full of newly broken slave-girls being passed around, sucking cock like the whores they were, and each one them of getting ploughed, hard and long, by every officer who took a fancy to her. He knew that his girl would be among the most popular. He grinned at the thought of it: this fresh, fuckable little slut, who right now was curled up against him in sweet sleep, was going to be filled with cock, in all three of her holes, for hours and hours on end. She was going to be a helpless fucktoy for a group of Roman officers to enjoy. And she was going to take it like a good girl, because deep down, she yearned to be their slave.

He caressed her ass cheek idly with his hand. He liked this one. She might even end up being one of the slaves he brought back to Rome. Marcus Aquilius closed his eyes, and let himself begin slowly to drift into sleep. The war was hard, and the long years of campaigning made a man weary. But the slave-girls were there for the taking, and it was all worth it -- more than worth it -- for spoils of war like these.

The End

This is my first non-consent story, and I would welcome any and all constructive feedback. Thanks for reading!