Catherine tossed and turned in her bed. She was soaking wet under her blankets. The girl was burning in her fever. Even sleep promised no escape. Nightmares tormented her night after night. She found herself at Tiziana's feet again, saw the executions of her friends and dreamed of her own death.

The terrible climax of her nightmare was looming again.

"No. No! Don't...!"

Panicked, she grabbed at her throat. The slave lay there with shallow breathing and clouded eyes. Then she felt a soft, cool sponge run gently over her hot forehead.

"Easy now. It was just a dream."

Maryam cared for her lovingly. Catherine could hardly speak. She wanted to thank her so much. This beautiful girl. Just nineteen years old. Tender. Friendly. Gracious.

The young slave girl had a brownish skin tone and came from a city far to the east. Catherine enjoyed listening to her talk about how people in her country rode elephants and worshipped eight-armed gods and sacred monkeys, how they ate everything with terribly hot spices and bent their bodies in strange ways to relax. Catherine closed her eyes and imagined it.

Maryam did everything she could. But she often feared for Catherine. Her life hung by a thread. She kept including her in her prayers. Asked for her life to be spared.

Tiziana sat down on a lounger next to Sarah. She had just come out of the bath. Even though she had washed off the sweat and dirt, her muscles were telling her that she would be in pain for the next few days.

She had fought in a tournament all day. These tournaments were like arranged battles. Dozens of nobles rode towards each other at breakneck speed in full armour and sharp weapons and fought their battles. Bones broke, many were injured. Sometimes there were even fatalities. They did it to prove their bravery and skill, to prove themselves worthy nobles and to practice for war. The aim was not to kill each other, but to put a knife to the throat and force the enemy to surrender. The aristocratic code of honour dictated that the defeated opponent should be granted mercy. Killing a nobleman would be foolish anyway. They were worth far too much. They were captured and released after the tournament. Today, Tiziana had defeated an old rival and released her with relish in exchange for a considerable sum of gold.

The event had taken place in a meadow not far from Sarah's villa. Naturally, she invited her friend over to recover from the exertions of the fight.

"I'll never understand why you're doing this. One day you'll break your neck with this madness."

"And I pity you, dear Sarah, that you will never feel this. The tense excitement of triumph. The burning in your muscles after a victorious battle. The feeling of having overcome an old enemy. To have overcome yourself. That is true life. Otium et bellum. That, my dear, is nobility."

"Oh, I am all too familiar with leisure. But I still don't understand your eternal struggle. You are just as rich as I am. You don't have to do this. Just look at me. I only do things I like. I want pleasure. Tranquillity. Peace of mind. Why should I cause myself pain? Who wants to spend the precious time they have here on earth suffering? I'm not a fool. Look, there you go again. You grimace every time you move. Your muscles will be screaming at you for the next few days."

"I can't do much with peace. I need war. The extreme. Overcoming. Will. Power. As the saying goes? Out of chaos comes a dancing star..."

"Hahaha. Well then, to each his own."

They raised their glasses and smiled. Sarah finished her cup. A slave came to the table and topped her up.

"Thank you, Lara."

Tiziana looked at her puzzled for a moment, then continued.

"Thank you for your hospitality. The last time you visited me, you made a somewhat unhappy impression. If there was anything you didn't like, I want to apologize to you."

"I was indeed upset when I saw how you... what you did to your slave. She was such a delicate thing... But fine. That's your business and I'm the last person who wants to interfere with it."

Tiziana tried to hide her grin. Her friend really was very squeamish.

"But speaking of which- The last time I was with you, we were served by a pretty girl. What was her name again?"

"I think it was Catherine. You like her?"

"She had such a pleasant appearance. There's something... very unique about her. I hate to ask, but I've thought about her a lot. Will you allow me to buy her from you? Only if you're not too attached to her, of course."

The sight of Catherine in the pillory at her feet flashed before Tiziana's inner eye. The courage in her face.

"Oh, the girl does indeed have something special about her. A strong heart, there's no doubt about that. I'm happy to leave her to you. Only, I want something too."

"You want my support to be made an honorary citizen, don't you?"

"Your help would be more than welcome."

"I know you. I know how much you want it. And I know you'll get what you want. Always. So why should I stand in your way? You can count on my vote."

"Thank you. You won't regret it. And I'll have Catherine sent over the day after my appointment with a pink ribbon around her neck."

"Haha, wonderful. Then it's a done deal. Have you already wrapped Vanessa around your finger?"

"We'll meet the day after tomorrow."

"I don't even want to know how you're going to win her over, hahaha."

The two of them talked, giggled and drank late into the night.

Two days passed. Catherine's fever slowly calmed down. She had no idea that she had been given away. That she would soon leave this place forever. That a peaceful life with a gracious mistress awaited her. Without collars. Without executions. Without fear...

Meanwhile, Tiziana counted down the minutes until Vanessa's visit. Eager to see if she would take the bait.

"Elena, prepare everything."

"As you wish mistress. But, if I may, are you sure this measure is necessary? The girl has never done anything wrong."

"An expensive pawn sacrifice, I agree, but it will be worth it. Vanessa will be eating out of my hand after this little cabal."

A few moments later, the patrician arrived. Tiziana received her guest at the door. Gossiping, they walked through the corridors of the villa until they finally reached the art gallery. It was an exhibition room with magnificent statues, paintings, fine technical equipment, pieces of jewellery studded with gold and silver and all sorts of other things to show off in aristocratic circles.

Vanessa suddenly froze to the spot.

Maryam was kneeling in the middle of the room, lying on her stomach on a narrow bench, her neck and hands fixed in a pillory. Her ankles were also enclosed in a wooden frame. She wore nothing but her red collar, her harness, and her sandals. A red cushion lay in front of the pillory.

Immediately behind her, an ivory phallus pointed directly at her exposed sex. The pole was linked to a golden winding mechanism waiting to be triggered. Maryam's only company was the bust of Aristarchus of Samos, which stared at her silently and patiently.

One look at the girl kneeling in front of the machine and Vanessa was spellbound. Her pupils widened.

"What... what is that?"

"Oh, I forgot, young Maryam here is awaiting her lesson in discipline."

"W... what did the girl do?"

Tiziana bit her lower lip with a grin. Now this was where the fun would begin.

"Yesterday she accompanied me to the arena and we watched the games. The sight of the battling demigods down there in the sand obviously stimulated the girl's fantasies. Later that night, Elena caught her satisfying herself."

The slave sobbed: "Mistress, please, it's not true! I have never touched myself! I would never dare to disobey you. Please, believe me!"

Tiziana ignored her begging.

"What are you going to do to her?" asked Vanessa, although she already guessed the answer.

"There is only one sentence for unchastity in my house: defloration and decollation."

Vanessa could no longer hide her excitement. Her breasts grew pointy under her dress, while her crotch was getting ever more wet. The thought of how this beautiful thing was going to pay for her little sexual whim with her innocence and her head excited her.

"Meanwhile," Tiziana continued, "I'm considering letting her get away with it this time. Taking the life of such a young and beautiful girl would be nothing but a shame. What do you think?"

She grinned mischievously at her guest.

Vanessa stared incessantly at the trembling slave girl. Her gaze wandered over her beautiful exotic face, her fine fingers and hands in the pillory, her back, around which the leather straps of the harness wound, her youthful breasts and finally her rear, which was stretched out defencelessly towards the waiting phallus.

Her head was flushed bright red.

"Let me see it."

"What?"

Vanessa took Tiziana by the wrists and looked her unblinking in the eyes.

"I'm begging you Tiziana, I need to see it. I know you want my vote in the election. I'll give it to you; do you hear me? You've got it. I swear to you. Just please, I must see this!"

Tiziana's face lit up in a bright smile.

"All right then. I can't refuse a friend like you a request."

"What?!? No! Please! Have mercy, mistress!" screamed the condemned girl.

Vanessa quivered with joy and sadistic pleasure.

"Thank you! You won't regret your hospitality."

Tiziana laughed to herself and had two armchairs brought in. The slaves carrying the chairs were horrified at the sight of their doomed friend. They tried not to look at her and left the gallery as quickly as they could. Soon the patricians and the slave were alone.

Tiziana and Vanessa settled casually on the seats and gazed at the girl at their feet. Maryam's eyes darted wildly back and forth between the two aristocrats. Helpless, she awaited her fate. She knelt before the patricians like a fawn before a lion and a hyena.

"No! You can't do that! I swear, by all that is sacred to me, I have not touched myself. Please, believe me! I... agh!"

The girl fell silent abruptly as the straps of her leather harness began to gently stimulate her sensitive parts. The soft setting was enough to get the young, sexually starved girl going.

"Before we begin, let's make sure our phallus has an easy entry."

The slave’s vagina began to ooze. At the same moment, Tiziana pressed a small button. The fine gears began to turn and slowly pushed the white rod towards Maryam's sex.

The girl recoiled as the cool tip touched her soft lips. But her restraints left her little room. A few moments later, the merciless phallus had caught up with her. She felt it again. Only this time there was no escape.

"Mistress! I beg you! Let me go! Please, I didn't do it! Believe me!"

But one look into the sparkling eyes of the two aristocrats ended any hope for mercy. Her virgin labia were slowly parted. Maryam clenched her hands into fists and squeezed her eyes shut. The sensation was as horrible as it was beautiful. The girl had never felt such pleasure. And never had she felt such mortal fear.

The mechanism pushed inexorably through her hymen. A subtle pain coupled with a surge of sweetest satisfaction rippled from her abdomen up her spine. Maryam's vagina sprayed sparks. She squeezed out a tear. It was done. She had lost her virginity.

Vanessa devoured the slave with her eyes. As if hypnotized, she stared at the condemned slave being impaled at her feet. Because of her. The patrician slipped her fingers between her legs and began to stroke herself. Doing exactly what had earned the girl in front of her the death sentence.

The phallus pushed further. Maryam knew she was running out of time. The more room she gave it, the faster it would penetrate, and she would lose her head. She began to fight against the shaft.

She repeatedly managed to drive the ivory rod back a few centimetres, but it relentlessly came forward again and slid through her vagina with renewed pleasure. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, her thighs trembled while her death throes sent a tingling sensation through her entire body.

With each passing moment, the girl's arousal grew, her sex oozed all the more and the shaft found its way even more easily. The only thing she could do was throw herself harder against the firm pole. Like a madwoman, she fought against the rod as it grew into her bit by bit. The ever-stronger tickling, the ever-sweeter satisfaction, promised her imminent decapitation. The slave fought on. Her neck thrust back and forth in the pillory again and again as she struggled against the shaft. She fucked the machine ever faster. Yet she couldn't stop it. Her head would roll at any moment.

"Please! Please stop it! Stop it! I'm begging you! I'll do anything for you! Anything...!"

All she got in response was the sight of Tiziana lifting her feet onto the armchair as a precaution so as not to stain her fine sandals.

Suddenly, it flashed through Maryam's mind like a lightning bolt. Her time had come. She widened her eyes in panic, staring at the red pillow beneath her. Her whole body tensed. With a noticeable click, the phallus came to a standstill.

The pent-up energy between her legs ignited in a climactic explosion. A flood of crystal-clear liquid squirted out of the impaled slave's sex in an incomparable orgasm of panic and pleasure. At the same moment, a blood-red ejaculation shot out of the girl's open throat, while her head rolled over and fell onto the soft pillow.

The gears had stopped turning.

The girl knelt headless in the pillory. Vanessa stared incessantly at the beheaded servant's open red neck. Looked at the result of her will. Watched closely as the endless drops sprayed out of the small vessels...