The Slave's mind was in fog. He felt his will break and dissolve. He tried to keep thoughts in his mind of his homeland and his people, slain and captured, but he felt them melting away, replaced with soft lips, a probing tongue and the intoxicating mixed taste of sex. He was hers. He belonged here. The kiss was all there was.

He lost track of time. He felt the weight of her on him. Her breasts against him. His cum cooling and sticky in his chest hair. Their kiss was languid and slow as they explored every part of each other's mouth. Through the sexual haze in his mind he could hear the others in the grand hall -- the moans and cries of a hundred bodies lost in pleasure.