<strong>Rioghan is getting painted</strong><br/><br/>Beside Ammon & Ryann was another who's presence was demanded this eve. The Celt Champion Rioghan's appearance was being tended to. It was with a growl of disapproval that his fine red facial hair was shaved off. There were benefits to being the Champion, one such being certain freedoms in appearance. Even more so if that appearance was exotic enough to the spectators eyes that it made him more distinguishable, memorable. How often did the locals gaze upon fine fiery red facial plaits? Not often. But the enjoyments of a slave were removed at the whim of the master. Domina would have him shaved and painted, so he was shaved and painted.<br/><br/>He stood still, a naked titan among men while a pair of slaves took to the task at hand. With simple blade they grazed body, to be sure his muscles sculpted by sweat and blood would be unblemished. In the Arena his appearance was to be of a savage Celtic barbarian who obliterated his opponents with his ferocity, but in the Ludus Domina could have appear as she so pleased. With body shaved the pair of slaves took water to him. A savage might stink of sweat, sand & shit, but a golden god would do no such thing. The cloth ran over his body, it was quite an enjoyable experience actually. Their gentle hands upon his toned meat that was once so pale now made a fine colour by the love of the sun. He could have made a fine impersonator for Apollo when this was done.<br/><br/>With powerful man flesh cleaned and soothed by comforting water and soft cloth he was dried before the final piece. The golden paint. It was applied by hand by the same two slaves. Their hands explored his body as they put the paint upon him...his thick neck and broad shoulders, the finely crafted toned stomach and chest. Small hands massaged golden paint onto the length of his legs and arms. Eventually he stood with his feet some distance apart, arms raised and his hands at the back of his head to give the slaves all the room they needed to reach<em>every</em>part of his body. Ever scar and scratch was covered, hands traveled across the expanse of his solid masculine chest. While a slave girl got down to her knees so that she could more easily apply paint to the Celtic gladiators manhood and surrounding regions his blue eyes were cast in the direction of Ammon and Ryann.<br/><br/>She was tending to herself, he was clearly enjoying the sight. While Rioghan cared not for how his brothers spoke to the slaves, for he took part in the banter and amusement himself so often, Ryann was different. Not only was she to be a warrior upon the sands, she was of his. He felt a need to protect her while she adjusted to this life, and perhaps protect her some more. He said nothing for now and even though his head looked down to the slave who had a hand at the inside of his leg as high as it could go, he soon turned his vision to just straight ahead. He would be watching Ammon now. Not only did he desire Rioghan's position, but he clearly desired a woman from Rioghan's land.