~<em><strong>Ryann, in the bathhouse, preparing for viewing</strong></em>~<br/><br/>Slaves were scurrying into the bath house, splitting up the Gladiators, ushering each to their own spot to begin the preparations demanded by the Dominus. There was even one for Ryann, and a scowl marred the perfection of her brow as the young woman, head and eyes ducked as was a good slaves want, pointed to the loincloth Ryann was wearing and softly murmured about removing it if it pleases the miss, the miss must be shaved. The scowl worked quicker into a look of annoyance, emerald eyes sweeping the bath house, looking at what was going on around her. It seemed that all the men were actually rather enjoying their experiences. Especially the new man that had come in with her. Ryann would roll her eyes and scoff; she had witnessed such things from her brothers, pathetic fools chasing after the first pair of soft lips that got anywhere near them, shaking her head before she once again felt a tug upon her loincloth.<br/><br/>A hand would raise, fingers beginning to curl into a fist, quite prepared to smash this slaves face in for daring to touch her in such a manner, until she noticed the flinch of the girl. The head ducking a bit more, apologies whispered. It must be done miss, it is ordered miss, by the Dominus miss. Slowly her fist unclenched, dropping her hand, turning away from the slave.<br/><br/>“ I am perfectly capable of doing such a thing myself. Go attend to one of the men. I am sure they would appreciate you much more then I...”<br/><br/>This spoken with venomous disdain even as she worked her long tresses into a knot at the nape of her slender neck, then snatching up the novacila herself. The slave girl was indeed cowed, and Ryann felt  a small amount of sympathy for the young thing as she scurried away. It wasn't fair for Ryann to treat the girl in such a way, but she was angry. Seething really. Yet Rioghan's words still rang within her mind<em>Survive</em>. With a roll of her shoulders, Ryann would step into the water once more, one hand working to wet the skin upon her legs, sliding the sharp tool over her shins and calves one at a time. Shaved and oiled. Put on display. How utterly vexatious. Was she to simply stand and be stared at? Her mind wove through a myriad of scenarios as water was sluiced at the apex of her thighs, one leg lifting to begin to use the tool gingerly yet expertly upon nether lips. If they wanted shaved, they would get shaved. She wondered if house guards would be set close to wherever the slaves were to be posted. She wondered if any weapons would be near at hand. She wondered if they would be foolish enough to not bind them. Slowly, surely, and unbeknownst to her rather enticingly hair was removed from her body, leaving her skin soft. She would need to keep her eyes open, look for exits. The oil was taken up, hands covered generously, to begin to work the fluid onto her creamy flesh, starting with her feet, massaging slowly up over lower legs, fingers and palms smoothing the sleekness over muscled thighs. Maybe however, she should bide her time, and try a more subtle escape. More oil obtained, now to ease over her tight stomach, sliding her hands behind to smooth over the roundness of taut hillocks, inching back to now work into the soft flesh of plump breasts, causing rosy nipples to tighten under the attention, perking enchantingly. Her eyes would slip closed as her neck was covered, and even her face, finally leaving every inch of her sleek body glistening, all but the very center of her back. This was covered as she released her ebon locks, the tresses cascading down to cover the portion of her back not oiled.<br/><br/>Gathering in a breath, she pushed thoughts of escape aside for now, moving to stand silently by an opening in the wall of the bathhouse, gazing out to the far away landscape, a silent sigh to herself.<br/><br/>Die here, or home...oh how she missed home...