She stares at oncoming dust cloud until her muscles tremble with the strain, but still she does not move.
At last, she can see his horse, its muscles rippling under its dusty white coat, and then the gleam off his helmet. She falls to her knees and lifts her hands above her bowed head.
She dares not cough even as the dust swirls around her. His booted feet land in her line of sight and she clenches her eyes shut, desperately trying to contain the urge to stand and embrace him.
“Master,” she whispers, the first words the slave has spoken in the months he has been gone to war.
His rough hands descend upon her shoulders, wrenching the tunic from her. He squeezes her breasts and presses his mouth to hers, his breath hungry as his tongue seeks hers.
He spins her around and slams her shoulders against his horse’s flank. The beast noses at her hair as the rest of her dress falls away and he presses his hard cock against her entrance. His hand on the top of her head, he presses her down and she cups her lips around him, taking him until she gags.
Without warning, he lifts her and holds her hard against the horse, this time holding her weight on his forearms. He thrusts into her, and she cries out, the void between her legs filled again at last.
When he is done, he lets her collapse into the dust to recover a moment while he pulls his armor back on. Then he extends a hand, meeting her eyes for the first time.
“Come,” he says, and lifts her onto the horse, leading the beast and his exhausted slave girl back to his home.