Nudity just hadn't seemed important in the face of possible death. It was amazing how the fear of taking a spear in the belly focused ones mind. But now that those fears were receding, now that she could actually understand what the men were saying, and had some hope of communicating with them - if they ever took away her gag, her fear was receding, and other things were rising in her mind.

I'm fucking naked!

There were now eight of them, these soldiers, all, of course, robustly male. They weren't as tall and... savage... as the others had been, but there was no mistaking the shape they were in, and no mistaking the eyes they kept casting on her as she stumbled along... naked.

They seemed particularly fascinated by her breasts, and couldn't stop commenting on them, not on the ringed nipples, but the shape of her breasts, which they evidently found - like most men in her experience - quite pleasing. Meghan was not a big breasted girl. But she had never found it difficult to fill out a bikini top. And they were full and firm with youth and vitality.

And now ten sets of eyes kept admiring them as they moved along. Nor did their eyes stray long from her groin, where her pussy was far and away more visible, she supposed, than those of most of the women of this place. If she was correct, if somehow she had been transported back into the distant past, then most women would have a copious amount of pubic hair down there. That was not something she had ever found attractive, herself.

She had no hair below the waist, thanks to a gift from her mother on her eighteenth birthday. Her mother intended her to simply have her legs done, but as her comfort level had grown, Meghan had decided to include her bikini area, as well as her underarms. She wondered what the practices were of the local women.

But that was an idle thought. For as she walked along, her mind was divided along two paths. One was concerned with where she was and how in the hell she'd gotten there, along with what was going to happen with her, and how she might get back. The second path was her intense awareness of her undressed state, of her helplessness, and of the men surrounding her, eying her like wolves escorting a succulent sheep.

At any moment they could pounce, and then what?

Oddly enough, she did not fear that, at least, not much. She hadn't forgotten the suggestion she simply be killed out of hand. So survival was still her primary goal. Any lesser fear was simply irrelevant at this point in time... in time.

She was growing rapidly tired, however, as they walked. None of the men seemed even winded, but she had walked for some time already, and was probably not in nearly their shape to begin with. She scented smoke from a fire, finally, then saw a few thin tendrils rising above the grass. They came out of the grass into a broad cleared area by a stream, and there was suddenly a camp there.

A part of her felt a sense of relief, for she was exhausted, sweating and desperately needed a drink. But then she became aware of the men in the camp, dozens and dozens of soldiers. Some were sitting near campfires. Some were sitting in front of low tents. Some were standing around talking. All turned to stare as she was led up, and her face heated further as they all focused on her. Her arms jerked involuntarily, as if they could pull free from the leather binding them behind her and cover her naked body.

She was led through the camp, which was silent at first, then erupted in a cacophony of whistles, mostly obscene shouts, suggestions and questions.

"Where'd you get the slut, Jenmore?"

"New recruit, Jenmore?"

"Give her over to me! I'll train her!"

"Look at the tits on that slut!"

"I want to bend that one over my saddle!"

"Over your saddle? I just want to bend her over!"

"I bet witch pussy is tight pussy!"

"That your new wife, Jenmore? Think she's big enough to hold that horse cock of yours?"

"You forgot to shove your spear into this one, Jenmore. Or did you do that earlier?"

Cringing, she was led amongst them all, past numerous tents, up to a larger tent, where an older man stood. He had no armor, but instead wore a black blouse of some kind over what Meghan could only consider to be a red skirt. It wasn't a kilt, for it wasn't pleated. The skirt came down to about mid-thigh, and he wore it with no evident sense of self-consciousness. Nor, she admitted, did he look the least bit feminine. He was perhaps thirty, which was quite a bit older than most of the soldiers, and not as muscular. His body, though, looked strong, wiry. His dark brown hair was cut much shorter than most of the soldiers, almost what she thought of as a brush cut. His kin was as tanned as theirs, though, and his eyes as brown.

He wasn't an unattractive man, but one she would have dismissed yesterday as too old for her. Two men stood to other side, flanking him, guarding the tent, she realized. They were soldiers like the others, only bigger, taller, and their chest armor was made up of strips of well-polished plate, layered, rather like the shingles of a house, and fastened together with thin leather cords against a leather undercoat.

"Report," he said curtly.

The man who seemed to be in charge, the one who had decided to take her to 'the captain' stiffened his body and punched his fist against the center of his chest.

"Sir. We found a group of four Daghari, probably a hunting party, just inside the woods to the southeast. This one was as you see, and they were dragging her into a fire they'd built."

"Interesting."

The captain examined her closely, then reached out to brush her hair. A moment later he slid strong brown fingers under her chin and raised her head, forcing her to look at him.

"Have you questioned her, Jenmore?"

The other man seemed surprised. "Ah, we don't speak Daghari, Captain."

"And does this appear to be a Daghari to you?"

Jenmore bit his lip in consternation.

"She doesn't look like a Daghari to me."

"It didn't occur to me, Captain. She's so... foreign, I was sure we wouldn't know a word of whatever language her folk speak. And... well, if she was a witch, Captain, she might have spelled us, belike."

The captain nodded gravely but Meghan didn't think he put much store in that idea.

"Remove the gag."

Jenmore produced a knife and slid it up against her cheek. Meghan flinched but he was quite nimble, and sliced through the leather without cutting her. She worked the wad of leather in her mouth out and spit it at the ground, then gulped in air.

"Water," was the first word she gasped, her mouth being so horrifically dry.

There were mutters of surprise all around her, and after the captain nodded, Jenmore opened a water skin he had at his side and poured the liquid slowly into her mouth. It tasted horrible, but Meghan tilted her head back, drinking greedily, sucking from the narrow mouth of the skin before he pulled it back.

"Who are you? Where do you come from?" the captain asked.

It was impossible that she was standing her naked, surrounded by scores of men, and be forced to answer questions! It was bizarre, but after swallowing and licking her lips, Meghan tried to explain as best she could.

"M-My name is Meghan," she said. "I don't even know where here is. I was in a museum, north of Badajoz, and I was working on a small ancient box we'd found. I opened it and found a jewel inside. I was cleaning the jewel and... and I woke up ... here... I don't know where here is!"

There were more mutters around her, extending further back into the crowd of men.

"Where is this jewel?" the captain asked, looking down at her belly button ring.

"I... I don't know. I mean, I never thought to look."

"Bring her inside," he said.

The two guards at the door seized her arms, one at each side, and half lifted, half dragged her into the tent, then put her down roughly on her knees on the hide floor.

The tent held a simple cot made of clothe and wood, a table, and two small chairs. A pack sat in one corner. A sword hung from a hook on one of the tent posts, and armor lay in a near pile at the head of the cot. The floor was made of some sort of rough hide.

"You can go," the captain said.

The two men thumped fists against their chest, and withdrew. The tent flaps closed behind them, and she was alone with the captain.

He stood before her, as if studying her.

He reached out and slid his fingers through her hair, then tightened them, and drew her head slowly but firmly up and back.

"You're a lovely woman, May-gan," he said. "Tell me about this Badajoz place you come from."

He released her hair, then pulled over one of the chairs and sat down in front of her.

Meghan swallowed anxiously. He had made no move to hurt her, but neither had he offered to cut her arms free or give her anything to wear.

"I'm not from Badajoz," she said. "I was on a dig near the museum which is near there."

"The dig?"

"I... I'm an architecture student."

She had to backtrack further and explain what architecture was.

"So you are a scholar," he said.

"I... I... yes. And we were digging at the ruins of an ancient palace."

She explained the dig, the purpose of it, and how she was working on the jewel. Then she had to backtrack again to explain that she actually came from Boston, and that was some distance from Badajoz.

"What direction is that from here?"

"I don't know where here is!" exclaimed. "More importantly, I don't now when I am."

He raised his eyebrows.

"I think that... I think that somehow I have gone back in time."

His eyebrows raised even higher, and he smiled.

She tried to explain about the landscape around the museum, and how it had all changed, even as he reached down and cupped her left breast. She gasped, but continued to speak as his fingers slid up to her nipple and began to examine the ring there. He tugged it a little, and slipped his little finger through it. It was, to put it mildly, distracting.

"Who made this?" he asked.

"I-I don't know. I bought it at a store."

His other hand toyed with the other ring, turning them both, lifting them, his fingers stroking both rings and nipples together as she felt her chest tighten and her stomach begin to churn.

"The soldiers seem afraid you are a witch," he said. "Your hair is an extraordinary color, though I have heard that some in the far north have such coloring. Your skin is very fair and unmarked, and your features are like to that of statues of celestial maidens."

His hand slid down her chest, down her belly, and between her legs, causing her to flinch again.

"Spread your legs," he ordered.

Biting her lip, Meghan obeyed, and his fingers rubbed at her sex and the flesh around it. She felt a hot rush pass up her body as his fingers caressed her clit.

"Your body seems to have no hair. I thought perhaps you had shaved it with a very sharp razor, but there is no trace of hair where all mortals have hair."

He gripped her hair again, jerking her head up and back sharply so that she gasped in pain.

"Yet I believe you are mortal," he said thoughtfully.

"I-I am!" she gasped.

"Well, there is one way to test that, but if you speak truthfully, passing the test would be the end of you."

He released her hair, then cupped her breasts, lifting them, examining them.

"And that would be a waste. For you could be worth a great deal of coin."

Coin?

"How many summers do you own?|

She stared at him blankly.

"Your breasts are those of a very young girl, yet over large for that. I sense, though, that you are no child."

"I'm twenty, "she said.

He cocked his head to one side, his fingers kneading her breasts as she fought to keep herself steady.

"Twenty summers. You look far less than that, for all your height."

He brushed his thumbs across her nipples, which were already erect.

"I have not seen skin so unmarked in a very long time."

He released her breasts and stood up. Meghan found her face inches from his groin, but only for a few moments. He walked past her and opened one of the flaps.

"Send for the physician," he said.

He returned to her and poured a goblet of something.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked.

"Yes, please," she said eagerly.

He held the goblet to her lips and she drank thirstily.

She drew her head back a little. "I haven't eaten or drank since I wakened here."

"Last night, you say."

He went to the table, and she saw him open the top of a wicker basket. He reached in and took out some sort of pear, then held it before her lips. It wasn't what she wanted, but she bit into it anyway. It tasted sweet, and she bit again, chewing and swallowing quickly as he watched.

She was half finished when the flap drew back and a thin, older man came in. He had white hair and a neatly trimmed white beard. Aside from that, he wore a white robe which dangled to his knees, with a rope around his waist.

"Fostus, what do you make of this girl?"

"Lovely," the man said.

"Is she human?"

"For all her strange coloring, she would appear to be," the man said.

He touched her hair, ran his fingers through it, then tugged on it, forcing her to her feet. She gasped as he lifted her and sat her on the table, then ran his fingers over her face, down over her breasts and back up to her cheeks. He pressed his thumbs against the sides of her lips, forcing her mouth open, and examined her teeth.

He pushed against her shoulders and Meghan yelped as she fell back onto her back. His hands pulled her thighs up and spread them wide, then his thumbs pulled open the lips of her sex.

His finger pushed slowly into her sex as the captain looked on, and she blushed furiously.

"Her skin is remarkably unmarred, but you'll have noticed that," he said over his shoulder. "Aside from her lack of hair her sex looks as it should."

He pressed a finger against her back opening and slid it into her, and Meghan blushed even more furiously.

"Note her teeth. I haven't seen teeth that perfectly shaped before. Her facial features are longer and more narrow than I've seen too. She's like a portrait of a celestial maiden."

"Yes, I know."

"She is no virgin but has born no children, and I judge has been little-used."

"She says she is twenty summers."

The doctor's eyebrows rose. He ran his fingers over her breasts again.

"It is possible. Tell me, what was she wearing when found?"

"Nothing. The Daghari had her prisoner."

"And your men did not search around to see what they might have taken from her?"

"Were you wearing anything, girl?" he asked.

"I-I... yes," she gulped.

"We should obtain the clothing. We could learn much about her origin from the style of the weaving."

"I will see to it."

Meghan yelped as the doctor abruptly thrust a thin pin into her breast. He tugged it back, and watched a thin bead of blood emerge. His finger brushed it off and he sniffed at it, then licked it.

"The blood tastes normal," he said. "She looks like she was raised in a palace somewhere."

"A very valuable prize then," the captain said.

"Even more if you can find more of them."

"Yes, we shall have to search."

"But there aren't," she gasped. "There's just me!"

"Perhaps," the captain said. "Or perhaps you lie."

He turned to the doctor. "Thank you, Fostus."

The man bowed his head, then left, and the captain looked down at her. Since he was standing at the edge of the table, where her bottom rested, legs spread, Meghan felt her pulse beginning to race. His eyes moved up and down her body, and then his hands followed, but casually.

He brushed two fingers over her lips, then slowly eased them into her mouth and across her tongue. Meghan felt her heart thump, and stared up at him as his fingers gently caressed her tongue, turning slowly within her mouth. He withdrew them, and his hand moved between her spread legs. His fingers rubbed lightly along the lips of her sex as she held her breath, then slid slowly into her.

"Mortal of celestial, you will bring a fine price at market," he said.

Meghan's eyes widened. Then she gasped as the pad of his thumb brushed at her clit, then did so again, and again.

"I have never seen a girl denuded of hair before," he said. "Save for very young girls. I must say I find the appearance... pleasing. And your skin is... soft. Very, very.... soft."

Meghan stared up at him, wide-eyed, breathless, watching as his fingers rubbed at her, as they slid slowly in and out of her pussy. The front of his skirt - his robe, she supposed - was rising. When he raised it she caught her breath as he drew himself out, naked, thick, hard, and as uncircumcised as the savages in the woods.

He rested his cock against her, drawing his fingers out, then rubbed it slowly up and down along her sex.

"I have never been serviced by a celestial before, but I have some experience with well-born women."

He pressed down with the head of his cock, still sliding it up and down her sex, letting it spread the lips of her sex slowly apart as it moved. It stroked across her clitoris, and then pushed down into the mouth of her sex. Meghan held her breath, chest tight, heart pounding as he slowly applied more pressure, and then sank his shaft down into her.

"Ohh!" she gasped.

He gripped her thighs, pressing them down harder, and his hips pushed forward. She moaned as his shaft pushed deeper, as it spread the lips of her sex and the walls of her pussy. She felt it push almost all the way to the back of her, then reached even that as his hips pressed against her buttocks.

He sighed, then reached down and peeled his robe up and off. Nude, he was all muscles, but small ones. He had a slender body, but but athletic, without an inch of fat. Meghan lay on her still-bound arms and stared up at him as he leaned into her, coming closer and closer. His hands slid off her thighs as his hips pushed down, slid up her body and kneaded her breasts. Then he bent fully, and seized her hair roughly, jerking her her head up and back to draw a small gasp of pain from her lips.

His own covered them, and she moaned against his tongue as his hips pressed firmly against her buttocks, then began to grind against her. She was breathless, overawed by everything, and lacked even the most elementary control over anything she did - or was done to her. She was alarmed that he had decided to simply use her like this, but not surprised, and in some way even reassured as to her value. He was also being considerably less rough than the barbarians had.

More to the point, her entire concept of sexual morality had gone out the window with her passage to this place, this... time. This was a place where people killed each other for any old reason! And she had no defense. That meant she needed someone to defend her, to protect her, and that in turn meant she needed someone to value her. Meghan couldn't have explained her feelings to that degree, not just then, but she felt no outrage that the captain was making use of her body, no resentment towards him as she would have if she'd been back in her own time. This was the way of things here, and if she was going to survive she needed to rapidly adapt.

If she thought in historical terms, in fact, women had been trading their body to men for protection for eons. Perhaps it was even instinctive, in a way. But she wasn't really thinking at that moment. She was seized with the sensations of his thick cock inside her, and his dark eyes above her, and his tongue in her mouth, and his hips pressing against her upraised buttocks. The weight of her body on her still bound, crossed arms was a constant reminder of just how helpless she was as his hips ground against her, then began to move in and out.

"So... tight!" he gasped, hips working faster, harder.

Meghan moaned as his hips began to strike her more forcefully, as his thick cock penetrated deep into her belly, the head punching against the back wall of her sex with every thrust. Her thighs ached as the tendons strained with her position, her legs spread out wide to either side. The table rocked beneath her as he thrust harder. Then his lips were on hers again, his tongue sliding between her teeth. Only now her tongue rose to caress it in turn.

His fingers continued to slide through her hair, while his other hand slipped up to knead her breast. Her insides began to churn, a strange dark wall of sensual heat building within her as his cock moved in and out. Her tongue and his twisted within her mouth and her insides began to ache from the force of his rapid thrusts.

He drew up and back, standing straight, his hands on her thighs again. He gripped her legs, fingers like steel as they surrounded her soft flesh, and jerked her hips up to meet his strokes. Again and again and again he jerked her up against him as her breathing became more and more ragged.

She had a wild, desperate thought that it seemed incredible that she could become so aroused so quickly, especially given her situation, but her mind and body seemed to have fallen back on instinct, and with the powerful strokes driving his cock deep inside her she soon realized she was on the verge of orgasm.

He jerked her hips up again, raising her buttocks off the table, her legs jerking wide to either side, and the orgasm struck. The strain, the ache in her thighs seemed to resonate with her pussy, with her clit, and she arched back, her head rolling helplessly, bonelessly, beneath her as the orgasm lashed her senses.

Then the captain dropped her buttocks, dropping his body atop hers, and began to thrust with an even more aggressive, powerful stroke. He grabbed her hair, his lips crushing hers as he thrust in faster, shorter strokes that stretched her orgasm out and elevated to something so intense she wanted to scream.

The pleasure rolled over her in a long, endless, mind shattering wave as the muscles in her body spasmed and snapped, and she felt her hips bucking up against him as she impaled himself on his stiff cock, glorying in the sensual pleasure pouring over her.