Shaken out of her erotic fantasy by Quintus' abruptness, Tasa stared stupidly at the door for a while before looking around her new cage. All the essentials for human life were there, apparently.
There was a dish of burning charcoal for warmth and a dim light, with a metal vessel heating water perched on a frame to one side. There was a shelf with a water pitcher and cup but elaborately decorated and baked earth rather than wood or bone and yes, there was the bucket for washing herself. She dipped an experimental toe in – it was warmer than she'd imagined with a roundish, pitted yellow object instead of a cloth but …Where was the bed? There was the pile of fabrics and cushions – arranged too neatly, she thought, but even more peculiar was the fact that it was raised high off the floor like an altar. Ye gods! He wasn't going to make a religious ceremony out of it was he? Or a performance? She didn't think she would have been worth watching even before the pregnancy. She had never been beautiful and was never trained to pleasure a man. That hadn't seemed to bother her late husband though, or whoever he had chosen to share her with. She had just been a convenient tube – Man, for the use of.
Now…what had been her instructions before Quintus had shut her in?
Tasa was deceptively intelligent and a quick learner. It was in her blood. Her father had risen to chieftain by means of political guile rather than brute strength and her rather plain mother had easily outwitted the prettier women and secured the position of lead wife by being even smarter than her husband. Tasa had managed to pick up the rudiments of Greek and Latin from traders who had visited the tribe, first her father's clan and then her husband's. Her language skills had been further honed from contact with other captives during the journey to Rome and during her stay in the slaver's pen. She understood Quintus perfectly but some of his wording was peculiar – a bit formal and old-fashioned. As if he had learnt the language a long time ago.
'I will return for you after sunrise. Do not stir without…and clean yourself up before you touch anything.'
She had at least the rest of the night to prepare for him, then. It was a good job she'd gone off the boil somewhat since her daydream, it would not do to douse her flames by pleasing herself. She would need to time it right to be at the peak of desire when he returned. She was reassured by Quintus' assertion that he too wanted her baby born healthy. It was one less thing to worry about. So, Tasa decided to follow his final command, to bathe herself. The water was lovely and warm and she assumed she could have heated it still further with the hot water on the charcoal brazier. The yellow object looked rough but felt soft, even more so when soaked in the water. She stroked the smooth, slippery thing over her bump and then experimentally over her nipples. She began to imagine Quintus doing the same. She closed her eyes and visions of her master played across her mind: Quintus' handsome face leaning in to kiss her, Quintus' deep, pleasant voice commanding her to place her hands on the raised "bed" and spread her legs, Quintus' odd throaty growl as he stood behind her and… NO! She was going to explode if she continued down that path. She tried to imagine the slaver as a mental antidote but soon decided that she'd never enjoy being touched again if she thought about him. She tried to balance between images of the two men but Quintus-lust quickly threatened to dominate. Exasperated, she quickly rubbed the last of the dirt off, dried on a loose cloth left on the bed and wrapped the pallium about her.
The cloak smelt distractingly of her rescuer but it was less arousing than being naked. She was beginning to despair of keeping calm until dawn when a noise from outside froze her like a cold slap.
The door to the street opened and closed. She stood still, breathlessly listening to hear if someone had come in or if Quintus had left her all alone. There was total silence outside her room.
Aware that she was disobeying one of her orders, but unable to bear the suspense of not knowing, she tried her door. It wasn't bolted as she had expected. She opened it a crack and peeped out.