<div class="floatleft">(https://78.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m6oiypDuDl1rs1ef6o1_500.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Canus Naevius Cerinthus<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Provincial Governor of Macedonia Prima<br/><strong>Date | Time:</strong>August 10/Sun beginning to set<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Vestibulum to Atrium<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Sandals/ceremonial dagger on right hip plus This (http://cimarron.wdfiles.com/local--files/rpol-pics/Tunic)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Sabina<br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong>Nudity and sensual touches<hr/><br/>Canus was pleased and ever more aroused as Sabina gave her name and willingly bared herself to him and the entire room.  Her figure and flesh were far more delectable than any of the myriad of treats set out on the table to entice and tease the hunger of the crowd, something Sabina was surely doing as her entire grandeur was revealed with such graceful ease and the kind of confidence that Canus felt was part of her nature, though as a slave she could simply act as if it was a matter of compliance with his wishes.  As his eyes drew up and down her beauteous form, Canus suspected that Sabina understood that in some ways, especially in her own carnal adventures and pleasures, there was great power in being enslaved.<br/><br/>Even if Bacchanalia was not being observed, a slave showing her body to her Master or one of his guests, perhaps both, was not merely acceptable, but expected.  In her rampant and stunningly gentle beauty, Sabina had no reason to claim false modesty, though many free women would, as a matter of form and course.  As a slave, she would have been trained to exhibit herself without hesitation, and yet most did hesitate, at least a bit, while Sabina almost craved sharing her nudity with the eyes of Canus, and from her glance over to his wife, to Drusilla as well.  He too looked that way for a moment and grinned, a warrior sort was consorting with his beloved, and Canus knew well that the man had best be as skilled with his shield as he was with the spear he intended on impaling Drusila with.<br/><br/>“If the cry is of pleasure, let everyone know in that moment that Canus possesses you, even though another may claim ownership, I claim possession until neither of us has enough breath to use the merest of words, much less each other’s names, Sabina.  Turn, please, away from me and step out of your garb.  I will see all of you such that I may plan my invasion and conquest of your supple lands, atop the majestic peaks, and in the deepest heat and wet of the valleys you are blessed with.”<br/><br/>As she turned and displayed her back and rear to him and stepped away from her already shed clothing, Canus reached down and gently took up her garb from the floor.  In a practical sense the only part of a Bacchanalia that annoyed him was the impossibility of finding one’s far flung clothing the next morn among the piles and sensual carnage that would soon sweep through the entire place, but Canus was more than practical, he was a gentleman, not the sort of falsely mannered fellow who did things for form over meaning, but the kind who carefully folded the soft garb of his chosen over with care over his arm, not seeing or giving a difference whether she was enslaved or of the highest Royal blood.<br/><br/>Canus also enjoyed the view of her as he took up the garb very much, and his lips pressed heated kisses along the pressure and pleasure points he knew so well up along the center of a woman’s back from the very top of her pert rear to the nape of her neck, as he rose.  Stepping closer to her as his lips parted from the center of her when they met her golden collar, and instead continued their sensual path down along her left shoulder, his left hand gripping her left hip as he pressed the stiffened promise of his sizable arousal against her sumptuous rear and lower back, his own clothing the only impediment from his flesh touching her own there.<br/><br/>Nothing impeded his right hand from curling around her succulent form to at first cup and knead the lower half of her right breast, then to enclose the beautiful dusky brown perfection of her turgid nipple within the grasp of his thumb and forefinger. His tight, skilled touch stretched her pleasure point forward and upward, then rolled that wantonly firm, yet soft peak of pebbled flesh to and fro as Canus experimented with touches intended to pleasure her and further dampen those already wetted silken thighs even more,<br/><br/>“Mine,” Canus softly growled against her flesh, voice low, but deep and reverberating along her skin, “To take and ravage and fill until the creatures of the night that prowl the deep of the forest can hear our primal cries…lead me to your favored place within the Domus, Sabina, we should not be so rude as to block the table with our passions, and let us not forget our the wine, Bacchus would never favor us leaving it behind, would he?”