by Georgia Fox
"Hmm." He watched her slyly, for he did not know how to react to her laughter. Slaves did not laugh at or with Marcus. Ever. He reached across his chest, jabbing a finger at the tattoo. "Senatus Populusque Romanus."
"Uh huh." She chewed slowly with her very white teeth, her gaze still focused on his arm.
Marcus flexed his arm again and she choked, spitting out a piece of bread. Amused he passed her the wine cup so she might take a sip.
"What kind of wine is this? It tastes different to the sort I'm used to."
"It is Setinian, from Italy. I suppose you drink mead like the other Britons. You will get a taste for my wine."
She nodded, but her eyes still watched his arms and then moved across his tunic as if they could see beneath it.
"The men of your tribe are not made like me, Axa?"
She gave a funny, wry smile. "Nothing like it."
He sniffed and nonchalantly tossed an olive into his own mouth, before he might be tempted to smile back at her.
"What's that one?" She pointed with the clay cup at the mark on his other shoulder. "Bis Vivit Qui Bene Vivit?"
"That is the motto of my familia in Sicily. He lives twice who lives well."
Bright eyes like the most precious emeralds glimmered above the rim of the wine cup. "Interesting."
"Am I indeed?" He shifted on his couch, uneasy, thinking he should tell her not to ask so many questions and just walk away from her. But his body refused to oblige.
"Yes," she said coyly, "very."
"You study me as if I am a scroll of secrets, woman."
"Maybe you are."
Marcus had never conversed with a female slave, for talking was not necessary. In fact he seldom had need for conversation with anybody. His superiors in rank thought him nothing more than convenient, loyal muscle and didn't care to know anything else about him, or where he was from. As long as he got the job done they were content. Those inferior to Marcus were too awestruck in his presence to speak a word.
This woman, however, tugged the speech out of him with her admiring glances. She gazed now at his lips, waiting for him to speak.
"What is the motto of your people, Axa?" he ventured.
"We don't have one. It's not common these days...I mean, where I'm from. Among my people."
Why, he wondered, had she remained virgin at her age? She was ripe, as he had observed. Clearly no longer a child. Why had no man in her tribe claimed her for his own? Perhaps the men were all weaklings— she had suggested as much with her comment about his physique. "Tell me of your people."
"There's not much to tell. Really, I'd rather eat. Suddenly I'm famished." A quizzical line appeared between her brows. "I don't know the last time I ate."
Ah, she was reluctant to speak of her people. He eyed her thoughtfully and then nodded. "Now you are here your loyalty is to me, in any case."
"Oh, right." She nodded, but seemed distracted by the food.
"Axa, I am your master now. I am your everything. There is no better man than me."
She laughed.
He scowled. "This amuses you?"
"No...I mean, yes...I mean..." she sighed heavily. "You are a creation of my imagination and I've made you so arrogant. Yet, I like you." The woman sat back on her heels and looked at the plate of food, her eyes wistful.
I like you, she said, as if bestowing an honor upon him. Yet she called him arrogant.
She tilted her head. "You keep a lot of slaves?"
"Thirty at least. I know not the full number."
"And you think it is right for one man to own another?"
Once again he overlooked her flouting of the rules and answered this impertinence. "They are better off here with me, than they would be elsewhere. Here they have food, shelter, protection. Any slave in my household takes my name and becomes my responsibility— their health, their life is mine to ensure. I take my role as their master most seriously."
"I'm sure they would rather have their freedom."
"To be shoeless and starving, scratching in the dirt for coins that might drop from the litter of a rich man?"
That silenced her for a while. Apart from her growling stomach.
So Marcus fed her with more of his dinner, fascinated by the way she took from his fingers with those neat, white teeth. Her hair gleamed in the evening sunset that slipped through the wide portal to the courtyard of his villa. Her beauty struck him again, this time not with a flash of lightning, but with a mellowed, golden warmth that flooded his body, heated his blood, and lingered. Marcus had never seen a woman like her, or heard one talk the way she did, as if they were equals. Despite being enslaved, she was not humbled by him, and that should make him angry.
It did not. He felt something, but it was not anger.
"This food tastes better than anything I've ever had," she told him, her voice soft, surprised. "So full of flavor."
Again he felt a jolt of gratification. "As am I, woman, so you will find."
"If you beat your chest any harder you might bruise."
"I have only the best. Of everything." He let the fingers of his hand caress her shining hair, as gently as he could.
She swallowed, her long, coppery lashes lowered, her cheeks flushing deeper. "All those women that live here in the villa...they are your bed slaves?"
"Yes."
"But there are so many. Don't you think it's kind of greedy?" There was an arch tone to her voice. "How can you possibly keep all those women happy?"
"The more the merrier. I have a magnificent cock and it requires regular exercise."
She coughed and then wheezed, her eyes watering, "You have never kept one special girl then?"
"Why should I? It would be wrong to keep all my splendor for one woman alone. I bestow my generosity on many."
Now she made an odd noise, her lips trembling, her eyes squinting with tears.
"Weep not, Axa. You too will know the pleasure of being in my bed." It was an event for which he grew impatient.
"I'm sure they fight over you," she muttered, flashing him a strange glance.
"They might, but I have a strict rule. The women in my house never carry a weapon. Never. It is asking for trouble to let a woman be armed."
"Yes, I can see that might be a problem for you if they ever had access to weapons."
Ah, she was concerned for his safety it seemed.
How tender she seemed and yet she showed bravery too, speaking as she did to him. She was softness and spikes, sweetness and spice.
Reaching over, he slowly ran the callused pad of his thumb across her lips. "Now open your mouth wider, Axa." He parted his thighs and wrapped her chain around his fist, dragging her closer. "You have aroused me until my cock hurts, but I do not want to break your maidenhead yet. That I will savor a while longer. So tonight you will drink my seed down to relieve me of the ache you started."
She stared at his phallus as he pulled her face up closer between his spread thighs, her eyes huge and round.
"Fuck!" she exclaimed.
"Not yet," he replied. "Fuck later. Tonight you suck while I explain all your duties." He grabbed his cock by the root and angled it toward her tense mouth, tapping the wet crest on her pouty lips. "Open wide, Axa. And do not think to bite me with those fine teeth of yours, for Flavian stands ready with the flagellum. One sign from me and he will whip your arse until you cannot sit for a week."
Soon he would not need to threaten her with this punishment. Not once she began to enjoy his attention and realized what an honor he bestowed upon her body.
The woman closed her eyes and opened her mouth. He shifted to the edge of his couch and grunted, excited as she took his thick, throbbing penis between her soft pink lips. With his right fist wrapped in her chain, the fingers of his other hand spread upon her autumnal locks, he demonstrated the slower speed he wanted, because he feared spending too quickly down her silky throat and she was already sucking with energy. She had better not be trying to get it over with, he thought do
urly. Of course, she couldn't yet know that he was a master at self-control.
He looked at Flavian who seemed fidgety. "What is it?"
"General, the Governor Damianus has come to visit. He waits now in the atrium."
"Ah." Gaius Damianus had arrived in Aquae Sulis a few months ago and liked to turn up uninvited, as if to check on the habits of his general. It was best not to leave him waiting. Sadly, he was also one of the most boring men in the Empire and liked to talk politics into the small hours.
"Bring him in. And then bring the prima mensa." Marcus was hungry and wanted his next course. Gaius Damianus would have to dine with him at his pace, politics or not.
When he felt the slave pause her sucking, he stroked her hair. "No need to stop, Axa. I shall show you off to my superior, eh?" Very proud of his beautiful, virgin slave, he looked forward to the expression on the other man's face when he saw her fine body.
The governor, who always boasted of his own fine stable of female slaves, would turn moldy with envy when he laid eyes upon his new prize.
He muttered to the slave-master a quick instruction before he brought the other man in, and Flavian obeyed with his usual efficiency. Axa was repositioned with her bottom raised and her knees apart, thereby ready to give the dinner guest a pleasant eyeful while he sat on the opposite couch.
A silk-covered bolster was placed between the slave girl's knees so that she would not close them.
Marcus felt the slight vibrations of a protest, until he thrust his cock deeper into her throat, choking her into silence.
Chapter Three
The mosaic tile murdered her knees, but she was not about to let that old man whip her arse, so she kept going. Somehow she had to get through this. Surely it couldn't last forever. She might open her eyes any minute and be back in the present.
Amanda had decided this was either a dream or she was in a coma. Those were the two most possible scenarios. In which case, whatever she did here was really only happening in her head. This could be her chance to experience things she never would in real life. Some of those naughty fantasies she'd always told herself she shouldn't nurture.
No one she knew was here to see her misbehaving, right? Wouldn't it be a mistake to miss this opportunity?
And Marcus Cassius had the most enormous organ she'd ever seen. He could kill her with that thing if she didn't get on his good side.
But then, would she really die? Would fucking him be like falling off a cliff in a dream and hitting the ground?
She tasted pre-cum, but the general still held back. What was he waiting for— Christmas? Nah, they didn't have that yet, did they?
Behind her, she knew another man— one she had not yet seen—enjoyed a full, unrestricted view of her waxed private parts while she sucked the general's cock. The two Romans casually discussed politics and military matters while she was on her knees between them, performing oral sex, with her arse in the air. It was surreal.
This, Amanda Adams, has to be your worst fantasy yet. Where do you get these ideas?
When the governor was announced, she'd sensed a change in Marcus Cassius. It was as if he put a shield down and took on another demeanor. Until then she'd been making the most of her moment with him, getting to know more about this man, trying to make sense of what had happened to her. He was so real, so full of vitality, even when seated. She could almost hear his body thrumming with energy. Despite his size, she couldn't help noticing the boyish way he tried to impress her. It was— god help her— endearing. Why would he bother if he could make her bend to his will because she was a slave? From the confused look in his dark eyes, he didn't know either.
But now their conversation was spoiled and her chance to explore brought to a sharp end by the arrival of the other man.
Now Marcus changed and pretended barely to notice her presence.
The unseen man said, "That's a new slave, is it not, General? I don't think I've seen a redhead here before. What an extraordinary color hair she has."
Thanks, it's L'Oreal Preference. Six pounds ninety-nine from Boots. If I still had my pubes you'd see my real shade of mousy brown.
"Indeed." Marcus ran his hand through her hair, kneading her scalp with his rough fingertips.
"And her labia is so delicate," the other man added. "Her mons most alluring. Puts me in the mood for a succulent peach."
She felt the general's hips shift, heard his breath shorten, and knew he was even further aroused by the other man's appreciation.
"Good thighs too and very pleasantly rounded buttocks. She's quite a ride, I'm sure. I should like to see her bouncing on a firm rod."
Oh yes, her master liked hearing the other man's envy. If she wasn't mistaken his cock just thickened another half inch.
"Such a sweet, dainty cunt. A dish full of rich cream no doubt." Now she jumped as she felt fingers between her legs, exploring. The dry pads of his fingertips swept over her smooth vulva. "How was the pubic hair removed? Plucked out, or pulled out with wax and sugar, as the Egyptian whores do it?"
Her master's bulging knob nudged the back of her throat and spilled a little cream of its own. She felt it, sticky and warm, trickling down.
Her master. Uh oh. Her thoughts had slipped into calling him that too easily. But oddly enough, she'd quite enjoyed sucking him off. She hadn't expected to. The last and only time she gave anyone a blowjob it was in a car pack after a school dance in year ten when someone slipped vodka in her diet coke. It did not leave her with a good impression of the act. This man's penis was different, though. It was solid, hard as marble, yet pulsing with vigor and potency. Sucking on it, playing her tongue carefully over the swollen crest, stroking his balls with her fingernails, made her feel powerful too. Intoxicated even. The way his shaft twitched against her tongue and he let her have a little taste of spunk — just a little at a time— seemed deliberate, well controlled. Perhaps there was an art to both sides of a good blowjob.
It wouldn't be long now before he finished. Thank god, because her knees were on fire.
"If you don't mind, Marcus, I'll try her out." Those heavy, trembling hands belonging to the dinner guest now spread over her arse cheeks. "It won't take long for I haven't fucked today and I'm primed after looking at this one's dewy cunt. I think it's a pretty pie that needs filling with some good Roman meat."
"No," the answer came in a taut voice, shouted over her head.
The other man's hands remained on her cheeks, his fingers biting into her flesh. "You won't share?"
Now Marcus managed a short laugh. He came in a rush, his sperm spurting thickly into Amanda's throat as she struggled to swallow it all. Panting, he managed a shaky explanation, "I'm saving her virginity for now."
"Virginity?" the other man exclaimed in surprise. "A virgin? No, surely not!"
Good grief, were they so rare in first century Britain, she mused.
"A virgin." Marcus lifted Amanda to his lap, away from the other man's clutches and gave her his cup of wine again. "My virgin pet." He was breathing hard, the sexually aroused heat of his body a fine mist that dampened his skin and now hers too as she perched upon his thigh. When he laid one hand on her waist her heartbeat became calmer. How huge he was, she thought again, overwhelmed by it, astonished by the throbbing need suddenly to feel him inside her.
Amanda Adams was not the sort of girl to be any man's plaything.
Ah, but she was Axa now, right? That gave her license to do things with and for Marcus Cassius that would appall and outrage Ms. Amanda Adams.
Glancing cautiously over the rim of the cup, she looked at his dinner guest— an older fellow, handsome with graying temples and clear silver eyes in a tanned face. "I am your superior, General," he said coolly. "You should share your slave as I wish it. And I should have first blood of the virgin."
But her master was equally firm, his voice steady now. "She is pristine and I mean to keep her that way. For a while at least." She wondered if he now regretted showing her off. Turning his head
he whispered in her ear, "Go suck the cock of my friend the governor, Axa. Placate him. Do it well as you did me. Make sure he is pleased. Do this and I will reward you."
Oh, blimey. She wished she didn't understand his language so well now, then she'd have an excuse to delay.
The other man hitched to the edge of his couch and readied his phallus in one hand. "Come, slave," he exclaimed briskly.
She looked at Marcus. He nodded, his eyes guarded, his jaw tight. His expression was encouragement, but also a warning. If she did not do this for the other man it could be trouble for them both. And far worse for her.
Flavian had just entered with the mensa secunda— a tray of sweet pastry and fruit. But apparently cock was to be Axa's main course and her dessert this evening. Oh well, better get it over with. Again she reminded herself that this was all in her mind. Marcus wasn't real. Gaius wasn't real. They were constructs of her sexually deviant, horny, over-educated, little mind. Frustrated with her failure to gain real experience, she must have created these men with whom to try things out.
Yes, that must be it.
The governor forced her down by the shoulders and thrust his cock at her face. It too was long, but not as thick. His balls were hard, dark, very warm and smelled of sweat when he pushed her face into them. Spreading his thighs wider, he pulled her head back by the hair. "Such a pretty slave girl," he muttered. "Her looks are most unique. Her features noble, her eyes clear and almost too clever. She needs some of that spirit beaten and starved out of her, or you will never be able to fully trust this girl."
"I don't believe in beating my slaves, or starving them," said Marcus. "They work better and with more loyalty when happy and well fed."
She was surprised to hear this. What about the old man with the flagellum, she thought. Was it just for show?
"Then you're a fool, general. She'll never perform with total subservience until you've starved her. My slaves will do anything I command, no matter how base and degrading," he laughed cruelly, "for they soon learn not to risk my ire by refusing, sulking, or delaying my carnal pleasures."
