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Her parents, friends and family had warned her not to join up. In hindsight, they were right.
Just days before she had been joking with the rest of the troopers, her friends, comrades-in-arms about the Legion soldiers, and how they were going to kick Caesar's arse all the way back to the hell he was birthed from.
It wasn't so funny now.

Private Aurora Cosgrove hadn't watched as the men of the Legion had swarmed over their defences; she had been taking inventory in the supplies shack when soldiers clad in their crimsons sportswear armour had burst through the door. She had been alone, and away in her own little world, tallying, calculating orders and preparing the paperwork on her clipboard to send to the supplies corps, she walls of the shack muffling out what she had assumed to be practice fire.

Now, she was held roughly by Legionaries, disarmed, a prisoner… no worse, a Slave of the Legion, and about to witness the atrocities that they were infamous for.

The men that held her gripped her arms so hard that her fingers were going numb and purple marks were starting to appear where they had dug their fingers in to her flesh; she looked around for friends, and only saw Elliott, another woman who had transferred to Camp Forlorn Hope. Ellie was pale and drawn, a fresh bruise already showing on her pretty face.
Ellie and Aurora were both in the Supplies Corps, though Ellie usually worked in the Mess Hall. Aurora and Ellie had a bit of a competition going, they were often propositioned by the men in the camp, though neither considered themselves to be pretty, they had a bet going that by the end of their tour the woman who had the most propositions from the men, and hadn't accepted them, would win a bottle of pre-war wine.
It wasn't that they weren't interested in the guys, some of them were real spunks, but Aurora had no intention of forming a romantic attachment, why set yourself up for heartbreak if the next day you were going to read the MIA and KIA lists and find your lover has been added?
Her reverie was broken by the approach of a Legion Officer.

Aurora watched as the Major spat in the Legion officer's face.

"Oh, shit." She thought to herself, knowing that the repercussions for such an insult were going to be met a hundredfold with pain and agony for the Major. But what was to come would burn itself into her memory for the rest of her life, and the image would be forever emblazoned into her eyelids, for months afterwards, she would see the remains of the Major every time she closed her eyes.
The Centurion took a sword and lit it on fire; she noticed that there was an old pre-war motorcycle fuel tank strapped to his back. She watched as the Legion officer placed the burning sword against the Major's face.

The stench of burning flesh and hair overpowered all other olfactory intrusions.

Elliott gagged beside her, Aurora's shocked mind was telling her that this wasn't happening, it tried to block it out, but everything else told her it was, her stomach roiled and she swallowed at the bitter saliva which usually accompanied a bout of vomiting until her mouth was dry.
Her heart beat thundered through her ears, hammering away and blocking the sound of the Major's dying screams. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes, she took deep shuddering breaths and her body shook with the shock of the vista before her.
"Holy fuck!" one of the men whispered under his breath.

Aurora's mind shut down for a moment, she had to reset, maybe this was just a bad dream, yeah, that was it, she'd wake up at home to her mother's Brahmin stew on the stove, that was always a comfort, her nieces and nephews would be out playing in the yard while her brother and father would be bringing in the Brahmin for milking, and she'd have to get up and help with the milking, and calving season wouldn't be too far off for some of the herd.

Screams brought her back to reality, Ellie and another woman were being dragged away to the tents, they screamed and kicked, trying to stop the inevitable. One guilty though intruded into her mind,

"Thank god it's not Me that he chose." She hated herself for that thought. She lowered her head, and a lock of her long, dark brown hair that had come out from her neatly tied bun fell across her face.

She felt her hands being tied behind her back, her hands and fingers burned with the return of blood flow. She was hauled to her feet, her mind blind to where they were taking her, but eyes seeing her place one foot in front of the other.
She was no longer free, and her heart wept for the loss.

As the last of the women were dragged into the threshold of his tent by the recruits, Titus grabbed the closest one, Aurora, and threw her onto his bed, pushing her face into the bedding and pulling her toward him. She wouldn't look upon him during the act until he was finished with her - a degenerate like her deserved to be taken the way the Legion mongrel bitches are taken by the mutts.

As he spread her bruised, sore legs, a Decanus rushed into his tent. "Ave!" He said curtly, aware that interrupting a Centurion without good reason would lead to similar treatment as the NCR Major.

As the Decanus' voice cut across the whimpering of the girl on his bed, Titus turned to the man, deliberately standing at his full height and scowled. The Decanus stuttered as Titus approached him - Titus' name seemed fitting given that he looked second in stature only to Lanius himself. "L-Lucius, he w-"

"Spit it out!" Snapped Titus as his hand wandered down the hilt of his shishkebab. "Or maybe I should remove your tongue and put an end to your whimpering?!"

"He wish-"

"Or take your hands and put an end to your soldiering?!"

"Sir, Lu-"

"In fact, I'll take your cock and put an end to your fucking about?!" Titus roared.

"Lucius wishes to speak with you sir!" whimpered the Decanus as quickly as he could, before backing out of the tent and rushing to find other business to attend to far away from the Centurion.

Titus exited the tent and called over the three closest legionaries. "If any of those whores in there move, you take their legs." With that, he walked up to his leader's tent, instantly a lot calmer and more wary of his wellbeing. Showing his anger in front of Caesar would most certainly be very dangerous.

Titus entered the tent, approached his master and gave a swift bow of the head. "Caesar." but Caesar was not in the tent - little did Titus know that his glorious leader was in bed in the rear of the campaign tent.

"Your debauchery will have to be postponed, Titus. You have yet to give me your account of the skirmish and explain to me why you think it is acceptable to take the women for yourself..." scorned Lucius, appearing from behind the curtain to Caesar's quarters.

Titus knew if he said the wrong thing, he'd have praetorians on him in seconds. "Forlorn Hope is ours. Half my centuria is occupying it now. The cowards surrendered." Titus looked away, "and I had no intention of disrespecting Cae-"

"Put them with the other slaves... Keep ONE for yourself."

"But-"

"Don't expect to have a reward like that when you defy the will of Caesar on your return!"

Titus' shouldered slumped as he nodded. He had gotten off lightly perhaps only due to his victory today. Had he been less successful, he may not have been alive right now. Who knew?

Titus and Lucius had used to be close friends during their time as Legionaries. They had fought in the same unit, under the same Centurion, but when the time came, they parted ways. Lucius left to join the Praetorian, but when Titus was offered a place among Caesar's personal guard, he turned it down, in favour of becoming a Centurion on the front lines, rather than a coward hiding in the safety of the Fort.

Titus left Caesar's tent to find legionaries already taking all but one of his women down to the slave pen, harassing them as they went. When he entered his tent, he threw his helmet to the ground and sighed. His victory was now somewhat marred by this. What would the rest of the Fort think about him?

The cowering wench before him was the same girl he was about to take beforehand. He was no longer in that mood - his triumph cut short, so she had escaped that brutality for now. "Fetch me a drink," he said softly as he threw her from his bed and onto the floor. He laid down in the centre of the bed.
"Now!"