by Georgia Fox
Wow, he really had taken an idea and run with it. "For heaven's sake, you didn't exist to me until this afternoon. I'm a second year history student, not a spy or a witch or a seductress. Quite frankly, you have a wilder imagination than mine if you think I could seduce anybody." She tried pulling her wrists free, but his fingers tightened like a vise.
"From now on, you will never say no to me. I will take you as I please, where and when I please. Whatever my pleasure!"
She pulled against him so hard that when he released her wrists she fell back to the bed.
"Your only concern from now on," he said, "is my sexual contentment."
Amanda crawled as far as her chain would let her go and sat there, breathing hard, furious. "If I am a witch, aren't you afraid I might put a curse on you?"
He squinted at her, hands resting on his hard, broad thighs. Even spent, she realized, his cock was an impressive size. Everything about Marcus Cassius was larger than life. Including his ego.
"I fear nothing, woman. Nor do I believe in magical spells. The only power you have is pure sexual allure. 'Tis not supernatural. And I have great willpower to resist pussy when I wish to. No desire for you will ever overcome my good sense. Whoever sent you to me underestimated the great Marcus Cassius."
She gazed at him, half amused, half enraged.
After using her so brutishly, he yawned and settled into his bed, forgetting her.
Or pretending to.
Well, she'd see about that.
Chapter Six
Thus began a battle of two strong wills. The Roman general, intent on proving he could ignore her, sent "Axa" to the slave quarters the following morning and decreed that she should work alongside the others until she learned gratitude and humility.
Humility. As if he even knew what that meant!
Amanda put her mind to the work she was given and didn't even look at him when he passed through the atrium with muddy sandals, freshly marking the tiles she'd just scrubbed clean.
In fact, the work helped her mind settle. It gave her something practical on which to focus for a while. After the shock of finding herself there and being captured by Marcus, there hadn't been much time to catch her breath. As the days passed with no sign of normalcy returning to her life, Amanda decided to start planning for her future as a slave in this world. She'd have to survive in it as best she could. Make friends, if possible. Allies.
But the other female slaves were wary of her and kept a careful distance. It seemed they too, like the embittered Julia who oversaw their work, were doubtful of her motives and jealous of the marked attention the general had shown her. Julia, of course, took spiteful delight in her downfall and when she found Amanda on her hands and knees cleaning a covered passage she made the most of it.
"Kicked this out of his bed already, eh? I knew his fancy wouldn't last for this sorry creature." She pushed her foot between Amanda's legs, poking her sharply in an intimate place with the toe of her sandal. "He soon tired of that cunt."
Amanda bit her tongue and said nothing. Flavian had quietly warned her to watch out for Julia's sting. He called Julia a "viper" and now it was clear why.
"He might not want you marked, slut, but I can still hurt you." She moved her foot again, prodding her arse harder. "A few bruises can easily be explained away." Now she pressed the sole of her sandal on Amanda's left buttock, probably leaving a dusty footprint. "If the general wasn't so particular about his slaves, I'd let the guards have a go at you. That's what they do in most houses when the slaves are mouthy." Then she leaned over Amanda and hissed. "But once you're out of his favor for good, then I can have my fun with you. And this." She showed Amanda a stick with a pointed end, attached to a broken knife hilt. Then she reached around and jabbed the point into Amanda's buttock. "Sluts who don't heed me get pricked all over." She stuck it again in her other buttock and laughed cruelly. "Outside and in, if you get my drift. Now bend over and I'll show you where else it goes."
Amanda swiveled around and punched Julia in her gut. The woman dropped her makeshift weapon, slipped on the wet floor and tumbled back onto her arse with a shocked, breathless curse. "Oh, you'll get it now, slave," she shrieked.
"We'll see who gets it." Amanda picked up the stick, stepping firmly on the other woman's reaching hand and grinding down hard with her foot. Suddenly a cluster of female slaves appeared, as if they came out of the walls.
Julia lay in an undignified sprawl, but none of the girls moved to help her up. They stood in a ring, staring and pale, but not about to offer a hand to the Viper.
Meanwhile, two soldiers, belatedly aware of a revolt taking place, broke into a trot and headed down the passage toward the group.
Amanda looked down at the older woman who, while trying to get up had slipped again on the wet tiles. "I won't tell the general that you had a weapon, Julia. Unless I have to bring it to his attention. I hope, for your sake, that won't be necessary."
"You would never dare."
"Oh yes I would. I'm not afraid of him. And I'm certainly not afraid of an old whore." She dropped the stick out of sight in her vessel of soapy water and by the time the soldiers had arrived on the scene Julia, although still flustered, was upright, yelling at them all to get back to work. Now that soldiers were present to witness, she pulled herself together and, after one last fierce scowl at Amanda, she walked away.
A few moments later one of the slave girls approached again and pushed a sweet cake into her hand.
After that they began to talk to her and she learned that Julia had done the best she could to rouse suspicion among the girls and make them think ill of the new arrival.
Apparently Marcus taking her to his bed on her very first night there had raised eyebrows and caused much talk. Usually, slaves were trained and well-vetted before they were allowed into his bed. So Julia was easily able to convince the other girls that she must possess some sort of evil witchcraft.
Now, of course, the woman would have it out for her even worse than before. Amanda had no idea why the female overseer took against her so immediately.
The following day she heard Flavian warning the woman to leave her alone. Had one of the other girls spoken up for her and told the slave-master about the incident in the passage?
"The flame-haired witch should have been made to serve with the rest of the women before he singled her out in that fashion," Julia protested bitterly. "She was not ready. She needs training."
"It was the general's desire."
"But I told you she is a spy. Probably an assassin. Now it seems he knows it too. Why does he keep her in the villa?"
"It is not for us to question the general."
No, thought Amanda grimly, that was just the problem. No one ever brought that man down a peg or two.
But the slaves had more to worry about than her presence among them. Flavian went on to discuss the Spring feast which Marcus Cassius hosted at his villa every year after crop planting. A celebration of life and fertility, it sounded like a bacchanalian affair with an abundance of everything— wine, food and whores from the town fornice. When Amanda heard this she threw her rag into the water vessel with a loud splash that made the other slaves turn to look. Then she wrung it out hard with a hearty grunt, before resuming a violent scrubbing of the mosaic tiles.
He had all these female slaves at his disposal, yet he hired whores too? The man ought to be stopped. If all the stories she'd overheard of his stamina and sexual prowess were even half true, she was surprised his knob didn't fall off.
Of course, he invited all the important people of Aquae Sulis to his spring feast, and this year it would include Governor Damianus. The mention of that name gave Amanda a chill. She did not want to come to that man's notice again. The other slaves— now that they spoke to her— were full of bloodthirsty tales about the governor and his temper and the terrible punishments dealt to slaves who had displeased him.
She kept her head down and got on with the tasks she was given, but her mind exp
lored the dreadful possibility of Marcus handing her off to the governor. Surely he wouldn't, would he? Perhaps he was just fat-headed enough to do it. If he had so many other women, he didn't truly need her.
And that was what really smarted. Amanda did not like to be bested by anyone. As Chrissy had said to her, she was terribly competitive and couldn't stand to lose. When Marcus banished her from his bed after that first night, she suspected he must be using one of the other slaves. She saw him striding about the villa, casting admiring glances at the other women, while studiously ignoring her.
Flavian sent her to the training field one morning with the water vessels and there she watched Marcus riding, saw him instructing his soldiers in combat on horseback. His strength and stamina was incredible. Many of his men wilted under the sun, but he worked on for hours.
Amanda heard the wistful sighs of the other slave girls who had also carried water out to the practice field and, much to her annoyance, she knew exactly what they felt.
* * * *
Everyone looked forward to the Spring feast and the coming of warmer weather, but Marcus worried that the arrival of a cunning female spy could signify an enemy uprising ahead. What better chance would they have to catch him unawares than during his annual feast, while he offered up prayers to the gods? Well, they would not catch him with his guard down.
As he had said to Axa, they underestimated Marcus Cassius the Invincible, if they thought one woman's untouched pussy would drive him to distraction.
Now, if only he could stop thinking about her.
He had hoped to get the truth out of Axa, but despite exiling her from his comfortable bed and handing her off to Flavian for menial tasks, she stuck to her ridiculous tale of being from some future world when the supreme Roman Empire no longer existed. He had commanded that she be put to work with the other household slaves, scrubbing floors, laundering clothes and helping to prepare meals, but nothing quashed the pride out of her and she stuck stubbornly to her story.
He should have her whipped, but he could not bear the thought of her fine, silky skin being spoiled by the cruel cut of the lash. Instead he decided to let her learn hard work — something her smooth hands assured him she had never known. Perhaps then she would appreciate the luxury of his bed and if she wanted to sleep there again, she would spill all her secrets. And stop arguing with him.
But by only the third day of her "banishment" to the slave quarters, Marcus found himself day dreaming of Axa's soft mouth, tight pussy and lush buttocks. Of her full breasts and those enticing cherry nipples. Despite a full day spent on the training field, working off his frustrations and keeping the men on form for whatever troubles may come, he remained restless.
Flavian waited to greet him in the atrium as usual.
"Where is she?" Marcus demanded at once. "The redhead slave," he added, although from the look upon the old man's face he had no need to clarify.
"The slave girl, Axa, cleans the stone steps in the peristyle, general."
"Hmph. I hope she completes her tasks well, without complaint."
The slave master replied with a slight equivocation, "She completes the tasks set."
So Marcus went out through the arch to inspect her work and “accidentally" stumble upon her as she worked on her hands and knees scrubbing the tiles of his peristyle. He had told Flavian to allow her a short toga, in the simple style of his other female slaves, but even in this garment she did not blend in with the other women. Her looks and her demeanor set her above all others and when he saw her there he felt his throat tighten, his mouth go dry.
Over the past few nights he had summoned several slaves to his bed, but none had pleased him enough to erase thoughts of Axa or to make his cockerel crow. Now, as he looked down at her, that elusive erection was immediate and almost painful.
She wore her stunning, sunset hair tied up today with thin leather bands. The collar remained around her neck and a guard held the end of her chain while she worked. Axa did not see him for he walked up to her from behind and she was on her hands and knees, but the soldier saw him and quickly stood to attention.
He watched her bottom swaying back and forth as she scrubbed hard. There was a small scratch on one of her cheeks, he noted.
The woman was singing.
My baby don't care for shows,
My baby don't care for clothes
My baby just cares...for me.
da-dah-da-dah, dah da-dah
da-dah-da-dah, dah da-da!
Liz Taylor is not his style,
And even Lana Turner's smile
Is somethin' he can't see—
"Axa!"
She jumped and looked over her shoulder. "What now?"
Apparently she still hadn't learned how to address her master properly.
"Why do you make this noise?"
Her brows arched high. "I'm singing to pass the time. Am I forbidden from singing?"
Marcus was not sure about that. He didn't know how he felt about her singing that way. It felt as if he ought to ban it. There was something sensual in the way she sang those words and it was surely wrong that she sang them for herself and a guard— not for her master's pleasure. He frowned at the guilty-faced soldier and then at Axa. Her singing voice was not tuneful; it rose and fell in an unusual, unsettling way so that he didn't know where the next note would come from. But still, even if he had not decided whether he liked the sound or not, she shouldn't be sharing it with others, because he had not permitted it. She was glaring up at him fiercely, cheeks flushed. He could just see a little smudge of brown nipple through her thin toga. His pulse quickened.
"I will bathe," he snapped. "And you will tend me."
"But I haven't finished the stones."
He put his hands on his hips. "Who is your master, Axa?"
She dropped her rag back in the water vessel and sighed. "You are. General Marcus Cassius."
"And whose orders do you follow?"
So she got to her feet.
At least she understood that much, he mused dourly, taking her chain from the guard's hand. "Come."
They walked farther, through another arch of budding roses, down a step and into the central courtyard. Here a handful of other female slaves waited eagerly to soothe him in the bath after a hard day of training. He was about to dismiss them, when he saw Axa's dour expression, and then he decided to let them stay.
He took the slide key from a leather chord around his neck and unlocked her collar. The woman's eyes widened. "You will observe closely how my good female slaves behave toward their master. Perhaps I have been remiss in expecting you to understand what is required without a demonstration."
Two hot spots of color deepened on her cheeks. "Oh, I know what you need. Apparently no one has ever given you one."
"Excusa? I thought I heard you speak, slave, when you should not."
She closed her lips in a tight line.
"Step down into the water," he commanded. "You need not remove the toga."
Slowly she moved down the steps and joined the young women already waiting there, some with ointment, another with a scrubbing loofah. Two sat on the edge of the bath with towels to dry him later. They were all attractive women, quiet, demure, respectful.
Yes, Axa could learn from these slaves.
After stripping off, he followed her down into the water and instantly the others surrounded him. Axa kept herself apart, watching with more than a little wrath in her green eyes. She didn't like to be told what to do, and being shown would probably enrage her all the more.
He knew all this, yet he beckoned her closer through the gently lapping water, teasing the lioness. "Pay attention, Axa."
"Oh, I am."
He glared. She glared back with fiery challenge. His cock reacted instantly, rising to the occasion.
Marcus ducked down, immersing himself fully, then coming up for air, wiping his hair back with both hands. Now Axa looked at him with a strange expression. As if she was hungry, but fasting. H
e turned to one of the other slaves and beckoned. The obedient one slid under the water and put her mouth on his erect penis.
* * * *
The water lapped around her hips, making the short skirt of her toga lift and dance, tickling and teasing her sex, stirring that need in her. She tried not to look at him, tried to separate her mind from what the other slave girl was doing under the surface, but it was impossible.
Over the past few days, since he'd banished her to the slave quarters, she'd heard the other women discussing Marcus, eagerly speculating which of them could be his favorite one day. Although he'd never had a favorite and used all his slaves equally, it didn't stop the women vying for his "special" notice.
And the fool thought he was being benevolent by sharing his attention among them, she mused scornfully. He assumed that a woman should be thankful for a few crumbs of his mightiness tossed her way. When every single one of them wanted the whole loaf.
Marcus motioned now to one of the other slaves to take over, while the first came up for air. A third slave massaged his shoulders. A fourth came closer to him and lowered her toga, offering two small but well-shaped breasts for his sucking.
He glanced over at her, his dark eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, and then he lowered his lips to the slave girl's pointy nipple.
Fine. If that's the way he wanted it....
Clearly she wasn't needed.
As she'd said to him already, she didn't need a lesson. She knew what he wanted. A damn good kick up the arse.
Amanda turned and stepped out of the bath slowly, knowing that as she did so, the wet, thin material would stick to her buttocks like tissue paper. It felt glorious to be free of that leash at last and feel the air on her neck. In fact, Amanda felt like a new woman.
"Axa. Come here! How dare you leave my presence without permission?" he choked out somewhere behind her.
