Set in Ancient Rome, Crimson and Steel reveals the fates of two pairs of lovers. Marcus is a Roman general stationed in Noricum. Taciturn and efficient, he keeps order on the frontier as well as in the city. Kell is a willowy young slave girl of Nordic origin recently purchased by Marcus. Not new to service, she seeks to learn how to best serve her new master.
 
Asmin is also no stranger to bondage, having been trained in the seraglios of the East as a pleasure slave. Hailing from the mountains of Armenia, she seeks only a rich master to purchase her from the slaver Javad so she may escape the rigors of the road. Things do not turn out as she had hoped, and she finds herself alone in the woods when the barbarian Ulf comes to her aid. A sandy-haired Adonis of the Germanic tribes, Ulf takes her in, and they become lovers. Yet there is one who feels he is the rightful owner of Asmin, and he causes much strife for Marcus, Javad, and Ulf.
 

Kell stood in darkness as Marcus lit a candle. Her eyes adjusted as he ignited more. Then he kindled a bronze oil lamp, as well as a similar little torch on the other side of the room, and then several more candles. She looked on his bed and saw a finely made, high-mounted mattress dressed in red and black silk. On the wall opposite his bed was a broad, circular mirror of polished bronze with a lion's head adorning each point of the compass. The disc was so finely buffed that she could clearly see herself with a ruddy, aural complexion. Soon the room was blazing, and everything seemed to be bathed in an amber haze.
 
Kell stood at the foot of the bed and before the feline-crested imager. Marcus joined her, clothed in only his scarlet tunic. He cupped her heart-shaped face with his strong hands and stroked his thumbs across her cheeks, admiring her beauty. Kell closed her eyes and pressed into him as he kissed her, pursing his lips over her lower lip and tugging. He nuzzled his nose to her, and his stubbly chin scratched across her fair skin. The Nordic girl inhaled sharply at this contact and leaned into him all the more. His torso was like the trunk of an oak, and she pressed her breasts into him, her arms snaking around his waist. The praetor tangled his long fingers in her shining locks and pulled her head to the side to expose the elegant tendon on the side of her neck. He kissed his way down the rounded cord, nibbling as he went, his breath a dragon's flame on her winter-kissed flesh.
 
Calloused, sword-hardened hands slid down Kell's linen-clad back and gripped her pert, supple ass. Her pitifully short tunic did nothing to cover her globes as they were mauled and rolled by Marcus's seeking fingers. His lips continued downward, and she offered him all of herself, tossing back her head and curling her tapering leg around his hip as he clutched her closer. He bit her shoulder and kissed his way up the other side, stopping at her ear where he exhaled and whispered, "I'm going to fuck you so hard, little slave girl."