For a moment he wondered if it had all been a horrible nightmare. He was warm, curled between two bodies on a soft bed. He wasn’t starving or thirsty; his throat and mouth were not too dry to speak. It was the twinge in his anus as he moved that shattered the illusion. He had been pleasured for the first time, Zujan actually being kind in that, but then he had been used by the farmers. He was sure it was just the kind ministrations of Zujan’s slave boys that saved him from being in more pain this morning. There was a slender cock, hard with morning’s need against his back. His own need was nestled in the back of another slave—Patricio, unless it was Furn who had the pitch as night hair. He looked around, careful not to move too much, not wanting to wake anyone. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, lighting up the large room. There were several large beds, each with its own pile of bodies, some moving in an unmistakable pattern, and there was a long, low table by the fire, covered in bowls of fruit, nuts, little cakes and several large jugs.
