Contents
Cover
About the Book
About the Author
Also by Deanna Ashford
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Copyright
About the Book
‘Taranis gave a muffled moan as she leaned forward and traced the outline of his nipples with the tip of her tongue. The salty taste of his perspiration sharpened her desire for him. She pulled one of his nipples between her lips and sucked on it gently. ‘I want you,’ Taranis said softly, his chains clanking as he tried to move into a more comfortable position.’
After a failed uprising in Brittania, Sirona, a princess of the Iceni, and her lover, Taranis, are taken to Pompeii and sold as slaves. White Taranis is used to satisfy the demands of a rich Roman lady, Sirona is confined to the home of a lecherous senator until his stepson, General Lucius Flavius rescues her.
After the lovers are briefly united their situation takes a turn for the worst. Sirona finds herself in the clutches of the erotic cult of Dionysis and Taranis must fight for his life as a gladiator in the arena. Meanwhile, beneath Mount Versuvius, there are forces gathering that even the power of the Romans cannot control.
About the Author
Deanna Ashford is the pseudonym of an author of historical, romantic and erotic fiction.
She is the author of Barbarian Prize, Doctor’s Orders, Templar Prize and Wild Kingdom, all available from Black Lace.
By the same author
Savage Surrender
Wild Kingdom
Doctor’s Orders
Barbarian Prize
Deanna Ashford
1
AD79
IT WAS HOT, far hotter than usual for late June, the month named for the goddess Juno, and the sun hung like a glittering ball of pure gold in the cloudless blue sky. Not even the hint of a breeze rippled the glassy green surface of the sea as the Roman warship, a liburnian with a high curving prow, glided forwards propelled by two dozen oars either side of the vessel. Each oar was manned by two wide-chested slaves, with hugely muscled arms. On days such as this, when there was no wind to fill the sails of the liburnian, they would be forced to row for hours and hours, each oarstroke controlled by the relentless beat of the drum.
As soon as the helmsman saw the island of Prochyta on the starboard bow, he leant hard on the huge oar at the rear, which served as a rudder. The boards of the vessel creaked as it slowly changed direction, rounding the headland into the Bay of Neapolis. The liburnian was not heading for the harbour at Misenum, the headquarters of the western imperial fleet where at least forty huge triremes were moored, but for a city further across the bay. Captain Cornelius was under orders from Governor Agricola to convey the captives in the hold to Pompeii.
Deep in the bowels of the vessel, Sirona stirred restlessly as the steady drumbeat coming from the oardeck above changed pace. ‘The ship is slowing,’ she whispered to Taranis, who lay beside her. ‘Do you think we are pulling into port again?’
‘There could be many reasons,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we are heading into more treacherous waters,’ he added, pulling her closer to him, the chains that held him clanking as he moved his arms. ‘Don’t be concerned, my love.’
She tried not to be frightened but she didn’t find it easy to be as brave and steadfast as Taranis was. They had no idea of their destination or what the future held for them. Most likely they faced either death or slavery; the Romans were quick to punish those who dared to rise against them. When the Roman General Agricola and his legions had marched into northern Brittania, Sirona’s father Borus had led an army made up of a number of different northern tribes against the invaders. They’d fought long and hard against superior forces, yet despite all their prayers and sacrifices the gods had been far from kind. She, along with Borus, his second-in-command Taranis and many of their men, had been captured.
At the express order of Emperor Vespasian, her father and most of the other prisoners had been taken from the vessel at Ostia. They were to be paraded in chains through the streets of Rome before being sent to their execution.
Sirona had no idea why she, Taranis and a few others had been spared for a time and left on board this vessel. ‘I just thank the goddess Andrasta that she answered my prayers and allowed me to be with you, at least for a short while longer,’ she said to Taranis.
During the long overland march south, Sirona, the only female captive, had been kept apart from the other prisoners. When they’d boarded the military liburnian at the port of Narbo in Southern Gaul, she’d been confined alone in a small aft cabin. Three days earlier, extra passengers had come aboard, a corpulent Roman general and his wife, and she’d been moved to the hold, but she had not been chained like the other prisoners. The few Roman females she’d known in Brittania were weak and submissive creatures, compelled to obey their fathers or their husbands at all times, so the captain must have thought that leaving her unfettered posed no threat to the safety of this vessel. He clearly did not know that Celtic women were also warriors; even so, she cursed her weakness, as no matter how hard she tried she could find no way to free Taranis and the other prisoners from their manacles.
She caressed her lover’s muscular chest. The heat in the dark hold was oppressive and his skin was slick with perspiration. The air around them was thick with the foul odours of stale sweat and excrement; yet she could still detect the familiar musky masculine scent of his body as she ran her hands over the grubby fabric of his loincloth. Beneath the thin layer of linen she felt his cock stir. The coarsely woven tunic her captors had given her to wear stuck to her hot flesh and the rough boards of the floor of the hold dug into her hip, but none of this mattered; all she could feel was her rising desire for Taranis.
He was a renowned warrior and military strategist whom Borus respected enough to make his second-in-command, even though Taranis came from Gaul and not Brittania. The first time she’d laid eyes on him she’d thought him the most amazingly attractive man she had ever seen. He was tall, at least a head taller than her fellow Icene, and most of his life he had been a mercenary, fighting against the Romans in far-flung lands. His skin had been darkened by the sun to a deep golden brown. His hair was the colour of ripe wheat, his eyes as blue as the clear skies of summer and, with his square jaw and masculine features, he was amazingly handsome.
She felt the hard contours of his belly tremble as she brushed her fingers across his hot, damp skin. Taranis gave a muffled moan as she leant forwards and traced the outline of his nipples with the tip of her tongue. The salty taste of his perspiration sharpened her desire for him. She pulled one of his nipples between her lips and sucked on it gently.
His muscles tensed, those on his arms cording, as he pulled her half across his body. ‘I want you,’ Taranis said softly, as a prisoner a few feet away coughed noisily, his chains clanking as he tried to move into a more comfortable position.
‘Are you never satisfied?’ she teased. Over the last three days, she had learnt to virtually ignore the presence of the other prisoners and concentrate only on this brief, bitter-sweet reunion with her lover.
Taranis meshed his fingers in her tangled hair as he kissed Sirona. The hot wetness of his mouth increased her need for him, as her pussy grew warm and moist. He continued to kiss her while he cupped her left breast with one large hand, kneading it sensuously through the coarse linen of her tunic. The rough fabric chafed the sensitive tip, making her moan with pleasure. She pressed her fingers against his belly, then slid
them beneath his loincloth. Curving her fingers around his cock, she massaged it gently.
‘Slowly,’ he begged. ‘Every touch of your fingertips sends me wilder than the god of war, Mars, in the thick of battle.’
‘Not too slowly,’ she said as she pulled off her filthy tunic.
She wanted him naked also, desperate to enjoy the tactile pleasure of his hot skin pressed close to hers. Unfastening his loincloth, she released his cock. Even though it was too dark for her to see it properly, she knew how beautiful it looked, so magnificently large, rearing stiffly out of its bed of golden hair.
The first time she’d seen his body totally unclothed had been in front of the altar of the goddess Andrasta. They’d made love in the ring of ancient stones, believing that the gift of her virginity would please their goddess of victory. At that moment Sirona had realised how much she loved him and had vowed to be his forever.
Curving her palm around his shaft, she pumped it slowly, feeling his erection grow harder as the moisture between her pussy lips increased. There was a certain kind of raw power in turning him on until he became so desperate to fuck her that he would do anything she wanted. Especially as this magnificent warrior had slain at least two dozen Roman soldiers in a vain effort to protect her in the final battle before they were captured.
Nevertheless, he was in no mood to be patient today as he grabbed hold of her waist and swung her astride him. As she ground her wet sex against his muscular belly, savouring the slick heat of his skin against her open pussy, she felt the hard line of his cock brush her buttocks. His large hands cupped her breasts, kneading them roughly before his fingers focused on her nipples, pulling and squeezing them until she gasped with pleasure. Then he captured one teat, sucking on it hungrily.
‘Now,’ she gasped.
Sirona barely heard the loud groan uttered by a nearby prisoner and the rattle of his chains as, excited by the sounds of their lovemaking, he began to masturbate vigorously.
Having lifted her high in the air, Taranis eased her backwards until her sex was poised over his groin. He held her there with his strong arms as if she weighed next to nothing, letting the damp tip of his cock-head press erotically against her sex lips. Sirona struggled, giving a soft whimper of frustration, now desperate to fuck him. ‘Please,’ she begged, as he toyed with her senses, holding her tightly, only letting her body move downwards a hair’s breadth at a time.
‘Slowly, my love,’ he whispered. ‘I know how much you want this.’
As he spoke, he eased her down on to him. His thick shaft slid smoothly into her; the hot, hard, delicious length of it invading her cunt, filling her completely. Tightening her inner muscles around him, she started to move, rocking her hips backwards and forwards, lifting her body, and then grinding it hard down against his groin. The weight of his chains fell across her widely spread thighs as his hands slid down to grasp her waist. His fingers dug into her flesh and she leant back, increasing the depth of his penetration, fucking him in the self-same rhythm as the drumbeat guiding the oarsmen above them.
Sirona felt the pleasurable sensations building inside her, spreading outwards like an all-consuming fire. It didn’t matter that it was too dark to see Taranis clearly. In her mind’s eye she saw his handsome face – his eyes glazed, his lips curved in a rictus of pleasure as she rode him hard. Her movements gradually became faster and faster until she was no longer in time with the slow thump of the drum, but following the accelerated beating of her own heart.
Taranis muttered her name as his hand moved between her widely spread thighs. He brushed the rough pad of his thumb against her clit and she gasped and jerked in response. He increased the pressure, rubbing harder and the combination of sensations spiralled totally out of control. Her internal muscles contracted around his cock shaft in powerful waves as the orgasm swept through her body.
As the intense sensations died away and the trembling of her limbs ceased, she realised to her surprise that Taranis was still engorged and erect inside her. ‘What’s wrong?’ she whispered.
‘Nothing,’ he said softly. ‘I want to feel your sweet lips sucking me dry.’
Lifting her hips, she let his shaft slide slowly out of her, then she edged backwards, ignoring the splintered, salt-encrusted wood that dug into her knees as she crouched over Taranis. She could smell his arousal as her mouth lovingly nuzzled his groin. She lapped at his swollen prick that was still slick with the juices of her cunt. At first, all she could taste was the musky flavour of her body’s leavings. But, as she eased the tip of her tongue into the tiny slit at the top, she detected the familiar saltiness of his pre-come as it seeped from the opening.
‘Take it fully into your mouth,’ he moaned, as she brushed her lips up and down his veined shaft, then ran her tongue sensuously around the rim of the engorged head.
‘Take mine instead,’ begged a disembodied voice in the darkness.
‘Quiet, Ramus,’ Leod, a young warrior she’d known since childhood, shouted. ‘Let them have the pleasure of forgetting this hell for a moment.’
Sirona was barely conscious of this brief exchange of words as she concentrated all her attentions on Taranis. She pressed her hand on his belly, feeling his stomach flexing as her lips encircled his cock. The smooth texture of the large glans was arousing and his powerful sex odour filled her nostrils, making her pussy grow hot with need again. She used her tongue, swirling and feathering his tightly stretched flesh as she tried to swallow even more of his huge shaft.
Driven wild with desire, Taranis gave a strangled groan. His cock twitched and Sirona knew he was agonisingly close to coming but she didn’t want him to climax just yet. After easing her mouth away from his cock, she gently lifted his scrotum, lapping at it with the tip of her tongue. Taranis gave a strangled groan as she pulled one ball into her mouth, feeling the soft down covering the sac tickle her lips. Curving her tongue round the smooth hard stone, she sucked on it gently.
‘Oh, yes,’ Taranis gasped.
Ramus, who’d been quiet for a few moments, began to clank his chains agitatedly as he shouted a jealous string of obscenities. This time he was forced into silence by a well-placed kick from the prisoner next to him.
Immune to everything but her lover’s imminent pleasure, Sirona played teasingly with his testicles, while she ran her fingers up and down his rampant cock, feeling it twitch excitedly.
‘Please now,’ Taranis begged. ‘Let me come.’
Sirona slid her lips around the thick shaft, swallowing as much of him as she could until she felt his cock-head hit the back of her throat. Suppressing the brief urge to gag, she sucked greedily on the organ. Her heart was racing now, her body filled with desire for him again. Her nipples contracted into two sharp points and her pussy became even moister as she slid her lips smoothly up and down his cock, squeezing them tight to increase the pressure. Roughly, she scraped a ragged fingernail across the strip of skin between his balls and anus. Taranis grabbed her hair, forcing her down harder on to him as he grunted loudly and bucked his hips. His balls tightened as the hot creamy seed spurted into her mouth. Sirona hungrily swallowed every drop of the life essence of his body until he was totally drained and lay limply beneath her, gasping for breath.
Taranis pulled her body across his so that she was cushioned from the rough planks, which served as their bed. Cradling her in his arms, he whispered tender words of love in her ear assuring her that, even though they might be destined to be parted for a while, the gods would one day allow them to be together again. Sirona rested her head on his broad chest, letting herself believe his reassuring words, feeling exhausted and for a brief moment happily replete.
She drifted off to sleep for a while, for how long she didn’t know. She was jerked into wakefulness when the relentless thump of the drum on the oardeck above suddenly ceased. Orders were being shouted to the oarsmen. They were still moving, but very slowly, and waves were slapping loudly against the sides of the vessel. From what she’d heard on p
revious occasions, she was led to believe that they must be pulling into a harbour again. ‘Where do you think we are?’ she anxiously asked Taranis.
‘Hush.’ He eased her sideways, supporting her in the curve of his arm. ‘Let’s not think of that.’
Sirona’s breasts were still a little tender and when his hand moved to gently caress her hot, slippery flesh she gave a soft gasp. At first he concentrated on squeezing and pulling at her teats until her nipples hardened and her breasts ached with pleasure. How easily he could arouse her, she thought, as moisture pooled stickily between her thighs. Her body felt overripe and still sensitive from their last bout of sex, yet her clit ached to feel the touch of his fingers again.
Slowly, Taranis moved his hand downwards, lovingly stroking her perspiration-covered flesh. His callused fingers brushed the curve of her belly and she moaned and trembled, desperate for them to reach the copper curls covering her pubis. She wanted them to explore the burning valley of her sex, and gently ease their way inside her. Suddenly, he thrust his bunched fingers deep inside her pussy, moving them hard and fast, finger-fucking her with a rough kind of desperation that he had never displayed before. Sirona’s breathing grew ragged, as she moved her hips to meet each thrust, and she gave a strangled moan as he rubbed his callused thumb against her clit. The combination of sensations became more intense until she reached the peak, but she was unprepared for the force of her climax as it came; this time the pleasure was even harder and sharper than before.
Sirona blinked, half-blinded by the bright sunshine, as she was led on to the deck of the liburnian. At first, all she could see was a misty haze of azure, ochre and gold, then slowly her surroundings came into focus. They had entered a busy port. On higher ground some distance away was a large fortress city. Sirona had visited a few Roman towns in Brittania but they were far smaller and much less impressive than this place. Even on their long journey through Gaul, which had been ruled by the Romans for many years, she’d seen nothing as imposing.
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