4 comments/ 66222 views/ 11 favorites Maria of House Marcellus Ch. 01 By: omyen Maria awoke with a start, sunlight shining over her body through the thin grille that made up her bedroom windows. As she sat up in bed, the thin silken sheet covering her slipped down from her high breasts and pooled in her lap, catching the light in its dulcet folds and suggesting with shadow the aristocratic legs beneath. She heard a motion from the doorway, and, as she turned to look, heard an unfamiliar voice: "Vale!" Welcome. Maria hurriedly translated the Latin in her head. She realized that if she were to make her indenture to this Roman family bearable she would have to find a tutor to aid her skills in the language. On the other hand, if she made her escape now... The maid who had arrived to awaken her motioned her to get out of bed and put on her tunic. She was passed the garment, clearly marked with the emblem of her new masters, and made as though to put it over her head. Instead, however, she threw it at the maid, who made a vain attempt to catch it. Maria ran for the door. As she ran through the door frame, her young skin shining like gold in the sun still streaming through the open roof of the atrium and dark, Gallic hair streaming behind her like a banner, she heard the maid screaming. Scarcely had she cleared her bedroom, looking behind her to see whether she was followed, than she found herself on the cold ground, warmth seeping from her bare hindquarters onto the grainy stone. She looked up from her sprawl, dazzled by sunlight refracted around a head surrounded by flaxen curls. A rough hand grasped her forearm and pulled her upright. She gasped as she felt the strength in him and felt a heat spread through her as her treacherous body responded to his touch. "A fine specimen indeed, eh Favio?" he coarsely chucked. She struggled against him and heard a deeper voice from behind her: "Indeed, Father was right to buy this one. She will make an excellent bed slave." Maria twisted in the golden-haired youth's grip and caught a glimpse of Favio -- a barrel-chested man in his early twenties, supremely in control of himself and his surrounds. A hand cupped her firm buttock and squeezed, not gently. She felt once more the heat of arousal spread from his touch. She forced her head to clear and focused her velvet brown eyes on the be-togaed chest in front of her - she would not look her captors in the eye. She knew what happened if a slave offered any hint of resistance. Maria forced her body to become limp, offering no obstacle to the more heated ministrations she was by now receiving. Rough hands began caressing her rounded breasts and pinching the taut, erect nipples they found there. She strained against their touch, secretly wanting more, though she knew she must not show any outward signs of this. Despite this, she felt herself growing wet, and she realized that if this went on any further she would begin dripping her arousal down her legs, its glistening rivulets tracing out the taut muscles beneath her smooth skin. Favio seemed to understand her need, or perhaps he was simply responding on a lower level of consciousness to the scent of her sex she could smell filling the air. He motioned his brother holding her to move her into the room she had so recently wanted to escape - she now felt only a burning desire to be taken back there and placed on the bed and - she broke her train of thought, though by now she knew that the flush over her body was clearly noticeable. She hoped they would take it for fear and not discover her shameful arousal at her rough treatment. "Quintus, throw her down on the bed. I want her to see it coming." As Favio directed his brother, he began to raise his toga over his shoulder. It was only then that Maria realized his garment was pure white; he was a grown man, fully empowered in the Roman tradition, and raised to take what he wanted, when he wanted it - from those who were not citizens; a category she was, as a slave, fully a part of. She felt a shiver of excitement course through her muscles at the thought of the power he embodied. She fought to keep herself from spreading her long legs apart as wide as she could. Favio, with his toga thrown over his shoulder to expose his body, dark with Roman curls, approached the bed. Maria found her gaze drawn towards the center of his being. He noticed her fascinated eyes tracking downwards over his chest and a cruel smile began playing over his hawk mouth. He knelt over her, his upper body angled so that she could not see what his lower parts were doing, no matter how she strained. He grasped her hair and whispered to her: "I hope you enjoy your first introduction to the family of Cicero. I know that I will." As he bent his mouth to her full lips for his kiss, she felt the same cruel smile pressed against her own mouth, gasping with the need of him. She half raised her arms to his broad shoulders, then let them collapse at her sides, barely in control of her own body. At last she felt his questing head at her entrance, shocked at the heat of him. She felt his grunt of surprise more than hearing it, knowing that although he had guessed her arousal, the extent of it and the raw heat she could feel emanating from the opening to her innermost realm still set him aback. He lowered his body to hers, his long cock beginning to enter her. She cried out involuntarily and almost came from his first touch at the inner walls of her channel. "FAVIO! QUINTUS! What is the meaning of this?! Broaching my newly bought slave before I've even examined her properly?" The voice she now heard through the red haze clouding her senses was still deeper than Favio's, its sound alone causing her pent up orgasm to burst forth from her mouth. In the aftermath of her blacked-out pleasure she heard Quintus and Favio's frantic protests, sounding more like boys than the men she knew they surely were. As the door closed behind them, everything moving too fast for her pleasure-addled brain, she found her hands moving involuntarily to her sex, consoling herself with shuddering moans, coming to her imagined image of the master of the house as she sank into an exhausted sleep, awaiting the night she knew was coming with its attendant "examination". Maria of House Marcellus Ch. 02 Gaius Marcellus strode angrily along the corridors of his villa, clenching his fists at the thought of the temerity of his wayward sons, Flavio and Quintus. How dare they attempt to have the first taste of a slave that he himself had bought and paid for with the sweat of his brow. Those wastrels would have none of her, he resolved, his strong jaw clenching. A maidservant suddenly crossed his path, her attention not on her own course. With a roar of pent up rage he struck her across the face with the back of his hand, sending her tumbling to the ground. When she had recovered herself enough to look up at him, her mouth trembling, on the edge of tears, her cheek purpling from his blow, he fought to keep himself in control, though the sight of her vulnerability and youth set his loins afire. Gaius gripped her tunic in one hand and hauled her upright, the muscles of his arm rippling as he brought her to him. With her body pressed against his and her terrified face looking up at his, he felt his manhood strain to reach her through the white cloth of his robe. He contented himself with a snarled question through clenched teeth: "How... close to night is it?" "It l...lacks but an hour, m... my lord," she stammered back, her near squeal almost causing Gaius to spend himself where he stood. He pushed her away from him with a growl, her impact with the corridor wall once more sending her to the ground where she lay with her pale legs exposed and gleaming in the final rays of day. Gaius succumbed to his own desire and hauled her up by her tunic again, before tearing it in two from the neckline to the waist. She muffled a scream, her memory forcibly returning to the whispered stories of the penalties awaiting those maids who could not contain their voice in this household. Her breasts, luminescent and pale in the dusk light, were forced forward and up as Gaius thrust the torn tunic down her arms, pinning them and drawing them behind her as her back arched. He groaned in anticipation as he saw her pristine globes leap upwards with the sudden force of her confinement, and heard her gasps of shock and pain. He guided her backwards until she reached the wall; as her bare back touched the stone, still warm from a day in the unyielding Italian sun, she found herself unable to think about the physical state of her body. She escaped to a world of warmth and safety, while her body was about to be entered against her will. Meanwhile, Gaius had flung his toga over his shoulder, exposing himself to the world. His cock was so filled with tension it seemed he might spend where he stood. Its head seemed to move in the twilight as his mighty chest and defined lower body moved in rough counterpoint to his labored breathing. Drawing her to him, he began to rub his member between the soft lips of her entrance, each stroke drawing more of her womanly liquid from her, to ease his entry. At last he could stand no more, and, gripping her by the thighs, he drove into her. The maidservant fell back into her body with a shock as though she had been dropped into freezing water. Her loins were burning with a pleasure so great it verged on pain, as Gaius began to thrust within her, the heat from his member spreading through her. Still pinned, she began to feel the first spasms of her pleasure, the fact of her inability to move her arms only stimulating her further. The softness of his skin inside her provided a counterpoint to the rigidity of him, as though someone had wrapped steel in silk. Between strokes, Gaius pulled his maid's hair down her back, tilting her head back and exposing her white neck. Her vulnerability and youth set him afire, and he continued to press himself ever deeper within her soft entry, her tight grip on his cock driving him to paroxysms of joy. When he gasped out his tension inside her, she felt a great heat surge even deeper as he filled her. He held her to him with an iron grip until he had emptied himself, then slipped from her as he relaxed his body. As he released her, she fell to the floor, exhausted. Gaius was not tired in the least. He felt as though he had been reinvigorated by this encounter with his lowly maid, and as he strode away down the corridor his thoughts filled with his evening appointment; the breaking of his new slave. His last bed-slave had broken far too soon, he hoped this one would last a little longer. Maria of House Marcellus Ch. 03 Maria awoke once more with a start, though the room she woke up in was not the one in which she had fallen into a deep slumber after her first meeting with the men of House Marcellus. The first thing she noticed was that the voice which had awoken her was different – far deeper, its swelling tones reverberating through her very bones, sending chills of excitement through her. As she lay in her bedsheets, the sharpness of her thoughts muzzled with sleep, her mind seemed to shy away from her memory; it was as though she did not truly wish to know who it was who had awakened her, lest she be unable to contain the dreadful implications of the knowledge. The owner of the voice had no such compunctions. After seeing her stir, he spoke again. "Good evening, Maria. Welcome to the House of Marcellus. I am Gaius, master of the house," said he, smiling from the doorway. The only part of him she could see was his smile, gleaming in the moonlight – from its sardonic cut she could see that here was the father of the two young men she could now only think of as boys. Maria did not speak, preferring instead to savor the images flitting across her mind's eye, as she felt again that simultaneous need and fear. She noticed, as though in a dream, that her body was now clothed in fine material, recognizable as the same House tunic she had spurned earlier that day. "Well? Will you not greet your new master in a manner befitting your status?" he asked after only moments, the levity of his words cut short with a snarl of frustration. After a moment of indecision, Maria opened her mouth to speak, but evidently she had tried his patience far enough. Gaius turned away from her, his face instantly concealed by shadow. Maria felt the first beginnings of panic, as the menace of the man before her began to overcome her imagined longing for him. She realized how little she truly knew of him, and how unprepared she was for her utter powerlessness in this Roman world. "Take her." A pair of men entered the room, their faces expressionless. Maria, having seen her father's enforcers in the village of her birth, recognized the same dynamic in this situation. She struggled as they laid hands upon her, the tunic she wore hardly disguising their iron grips. She felt as though the claws of some colossal eagle were biting into her flesh; the shooting pain caused her body to become limb and pliable, though she screamed inside for escape. Gaius motioned, and with the oiled precision of long training and subservience they began dragging her through the darkened corridors of the villa. Through the glaze of the – this time – true fear closing her vision and stoppering up her cries of terror she felt again the shameful and far more potent heat of arousal slipping down her legs from the jewel nestled between them. After what seemed like an age of her form being scraped hard along the flagstones, their cold robbing her of warmth and leaving her with only the growing desire for Gauis, she had become only a withdrawn bundle of sensations. The cold of the floor and her own heat from the fierce roughness of motion, combined with the sweetly liquid heat of her, made up her world of touch, her arms becoming numb from their entrapment by Gaius' male slaves. Her ears heard only the harsh breath of them and the unthinkably loud beat of her heart, whose pace had not slowed since her rude awakening. But it was her eyes which betrayed her most cruelly. Though the shock of her treatment had left her blinded with fear, the eye of her mind painted a vivid addition to her terror. She saw again the young men of her village with whom she had been wont to play after a feast. She saw also the many occasions when she rose from her hut at dawn to hunt with them and they lay tangled in the frosted grass as soon as they had gone scarce a mile from the spiked outer wall of the camp. However, instead of Iccauos and Bratronos filling her mind with their youthful features, the sharp angled face of Gaius had replaced them, his confident smile haunting her. The playful couplings in the forest became terrifying chases, ending in force, and the drunken joy of feast days turned to confusion and pain. Though in her conscious mind she longed for escape, her treacherous id demanded a different sort of release; as she was recalled from her revery, she was left with a sense of loss to accompany profound relief. Her dress was pulling at her shoulders from the friction with the stone floor, the pain leaving her fully awakened, though her deliverance was consumed by despair as she recollected her surroundings. The two pairs of hands unceremoniously released her and she tumbled to the floor, her dark hair spreading around her head like the thin roots of a white flower. From the cold she could feel she knew that they were no longer on the surface of the villa, where the heat of day lingered. "Leave us." A curt command was all that was required to leave Gaius and Maria alone, the slaves having obviously made this journey many times before, and being well acquainted with their master's wishes. Gaius ignored her and busied himself at a small opening in the dark corridor. Suddenly she found herself once more grasped and thrown in through the recess Gauis had uncovered, the vast ring of rusty keys still dangling from his free hand. As she was forcibly moved, she brushed against his body, feeling the evidence of his own excitement pressed to her thigh, its touch seemingly electric. As she hit the ground once more, she found her voice, her entire aim now only to heighten her own and Gauis' pleasure, her care for the pain she knew would inevitably come thrust to the back of her mind by her deeper and more powerful desires. "P... please. I... don't hurt... me", she said, in the broken Latin that was all she could speak, though piecing together what was said to her was a task she was beginning to find surprisingly easy; at least when it seemed her life depended on it. Gaius looked at her a moment, as though surprised she dared to speak. After the few seconds it took for his arousal and rage to build further, he picked her up and slammed her into the wall of the cell she realized she had been thrown into. One hand pressed to her throat to keep her pinned up, he used the other to ruck her dress up to her thighs, his hand leaving red marks on her pale legs from the force he used. Gasping from the strength pressed to her body at all points, Maria let out a small moan of terror and desire. This only pushed him on to greater violence, throwing his toga over his shoulder in one motion and, frustrated to the point of mindlessness, ripped her garment from her, his hand brushing her high breasts as it passed, causing her body to release its pleasure in a cry that left her weak at the knees. Looking down in the gloom of the cell, she saw his engorged glans bobbing as he panted, waiting for her motions to stop. Without warning he thrust into her, the size and length of him causing her to cry out again in both pleasure and pain – wanting more of both, she gripped his shoulders with her nails, leaving trails of blood. Gaius immediately withdrew from her inner heat and struck her across the face. "You will touch me when I say that you may, slave girl", he hissed. "Do you understand?" "Y... yes... my master." Her voice strengthened as she uttered the last two words, their meaning filling her once more with the need of him. Once more without warning, he entered her channel, meeting only the resistance it offered by virtue of her youth and inexperience. As he thrust again and again inside her, Maria shuddering with every stroke, he gripped her neck and hair tightly, driving himself towards climax. Barely feeling the walls of the cell grind into her back and buttocks, she moved her hips with him, trying to draw him deeper inside her. Almost blacking out, she drew her legs up and linked them behind his back. Gaius struck her again as he withdrew, easily breaking her hold with the muscles she had felt rippling under his skin. "Did you forget our last lesson so soon?" he hissed again, his features contorted in a rictus of anger. "No... yes... please, master... in me", she moaned, her body twisting involuntarily from where she hung from his hand at her throat. "I think we need a further lesson. You will stay here." Gauis exited the cell swiftly, locking the door behind him. As he left, Maria sobbed quietly to herself – not at the pain she felt and the skin lost, but at the thought that she would have to wait still longer for the culmination of her master. Maria of House Marcellus Ch. 04 Minutes later, Gaius paused outside the cell door, the muscles in one arm taut under the weight of his burden. He forced himself to wait there, to prolong the anticipation, but in the end the heat of his desire for Maria, only inflamed by his journey to fetch this metallic bundle, caused him to wrench the door open and step inside. Maria lay crumpled on the floor where he had thrown her, her ripped dress beside her, as though she had tried to cover her pale nakedness, still red from his grip. "Maria," he said, in tones of steel. "Repeat to me the lesson you learned the last time we spoke." Maria did not reply, her tongue locked by her conflicting emotions. "Maria," he said again, his utterance of the word seeming to embody, to Maria, the power of the man himself. "Repeat it." Without waiting for a reply this time, his patience broke. Picking up her limp form in one hand, he thrust her against the wall, holding her again by the throat. Maria's hands fluttered weakly towards his choking grip, but flew down again to her sides as she remembered the lesson he had so recently imparted. "I will tell you again," Gaius whispered, his face so close to hers that she could feel the burning heat of his breath. "You are not to touch me unless I so will it. But it seemed you could not obey, so I have brought a tool of persuasion -- you will not need to remember it any further." He threw down the bundle he had been carrying and unwrapped it on the cell floor. He left Maria to hold herself against the wall, though she sank to a pitiable squat, her terror for the first time outweighing her arousal. As the dark woolen material unfolded, she began to see glints, as of metal, in the half light of the room. Her overwhelming impression was of the bits and bridles of horses, but made crueler and more piercing. Suddenly Gaius reached out a hand and snapped a piece of his metallic puzzle shut around her ankle. She felt the sharp points forged on the inside dig into her skin, not quite drawing blood. The shock that made her gasp though, vocalizing her fear, was the deep cold and weight of metal kept from sun for what seemed years. Before she could jerk herself away, he clasped an identical circlet around her other leg, its cold now seeming less as her leg grew numb, the heat leeching from her. Gaius now stood up, and she could see his excitement standing clearly through his tunic, its head seemingly seeking her. So fixated was she, and so suddenly flushed with the memory of his glans reaching deep inside her, that she barely noticed him placing two more rings of metal on her, one on each wrist. He drew her up easily and thrust the bolts on each piece into small holes in the wall, obviously made for this cruel purpose, the barely suppressed violence in his motions making her tremble with anticipation. Seconds later, Maria found her naked body spreadeagled upon the wall, sagging as she was held up only by the four bolts connecting her joints to the stonework. Gaius paused, his chest moving only slightly with his breath, though Maria fancied she could see her excitement mirrored in his grey eyes. With a swiftness of motion that made her cry out, he grabbed her at the neck and drew a silken bag down across her head. Maria tossed her head to and fro, in a panic at her loss of sight, and she would have shaken it from her had the last piece of the metal set not been a ring made to fit around her neck, clasp at the back, and lock her head onto the stone. Now, hanging from five points on the wall and unable to see the motions of her master, in whose power she now truly was, Maria felt the pain of the metal rings cutting into her. Her heart began beating faster, though she could not tell whether for fear or joy, and her body began to flush with adrenaline. She felt the first touch of Gaius' hot breath on her chest, and sensed his warmth only inches from her. When he began to bite her full breasts, gently at first, she gasped, feeling her arousal begin to spread. The violence of his lips and teeth upon her grew moment to moment, until she felt she could stand it no longer, her nipples taut and straining upwards, her breasts rising as she arched her back in pain. Gaius mistook her pain for pleasure, or perhaps simply did not care one way or the other; he stopped, and paused, licking his lips. Were Maria able to see, she would see once again the smile of her demon shining in the darkness, as though it made up the entirety of the man standing before her. He reached downwards and drew from the harsh wool bundle the last of his tools. Her first knowledge of it was only sound, as it hissed, a soft susurration as of a whispering audience, their voices shocked and low at the depraved performance they were witnessing. As her knowledge of the tool grew, so did her pain; Gaius struck her upon the thigh, the sharp crack of the whip's many tails cut through the crowd's whispering, only to echo from the walls, its remnants mingling with the hiss of leather on leather as Gaius gently shook the crop, preparing for his next stroke. Maria bit her tongue to keep from crying out, though she felt the salt sweetness of her blood in her mouth. Her other thigh was next to feel his anger; she imagined the welts rising upon it as the whip withdrew. Gaius spread the whip's kiss across her whole body, carefully and deliberately, his skill obvious. Many long days and nights had been spent at this dark practice. He increased the speed with which he struck her as his excitement increased, until Maria could no longer hear the whip whispering to her, only its shout as it struck her again and again. As he increased the frequency and force of his ministrations waves of pleasure ran up and down her body, beginning to build on each other as though in time with his applied pain. At the point she could take no more, she felt him step back and heard his harsh breath, knowing now that he was her equal in his need. Without warning he was inside her, his hands dragging her hips forward to meet his as he reached her innermost regions with every stroke. She shuddered as he reentered her each time, her anklets banging against the wall in harsh counterpoint to his grunts of effort. She felt his cock push aside the walls of her channel further than seemed possible, only ever just to this side of pain, and sometimes beyond. At his furthest extension it felt as though he would burst her apart, and after only seconds of his rape the surging of her lust took her and exploded throughout her body as she surrendered entirely to Gaius and the pleasure he brought her. As Maria became impossibly taut and then limp in his grasp, Gaius came as well, the clenching of her muscles on his shaft forcibly drawing pleasure from him. Maria, now in a world made entirely of touch, felt his burning hot seed entering her body and going deeper than seemed possible. He spasmed again, and again, each contraction forcing more inside her, until he slipped out of her, as suddenly as he had entered. She felt a rush of cold air as he opened the cell door, and the compression as he slammed it behind him. Still suspended, with her flushed body demanding more even as her legs trembled with the power of what had lain between them, she began to cry, salt tears of relief and despair.