0 comments/ 45357 views/ 31 favorites Imperium By: sexinhistory Marcus Catus Decianus was wrapped up in his books when his father, Decimus, came back from putting down the Jewish revolt. He heard the ruckus, as the household gathered to welcome their pater familias, in fear of punishment, or perhaps in hope of gift. He did not care. His father's threats or rewards bored him a long time ago. Marcus was the only son of the family, making him the inheritor of the vast estates held by the Catus Decianus family, and now that he is of age, likely to be sent to Rome to take his first steps in the government. None of this appealed to him. He enjoyed reading the speeches of Cato and Cicero, and the martial tales of the civil war. He was strong and intelligent, but fear held him back. He stuttered when speaking in public, and had got sick at the thought of violence. His father only saw failure ahead of him. More than Cicero and Julius Caesar, it was Augustus who was Marcus's real model. The divine Emperor who would get sick before going into battle who let speakers speak in the senate, while he used wit and cunning to rule the world. The Catus voice would be the quiet one in the background that determines how the world was run. "He's here." His sister's voice woke him from his revery. Aula was dressed in a silk outfit that clung to her body, with light brown curly hair accenting her pale skin. She looked bored, and stunning, like she always looked. "Yes, yes," he turned back to his books. "He sent ahead, asking specifically for you." She left before he had a chance to respond. He sighed, pushing his chair over as he got up, and attached his cloak in some way which would look respectable to Father's bodyguards, and then walked out, trying to both show anger that he was interrupted and ambivalence about his fathers commands. He arrived in the main room shortly after his father did. Standing in the back of the crowd hoping to avoid notice. His mother and sister were in the center of the room, ceremonially greeting the general and pater familiae back from battle. Father was accompanied by a dozen of his personal bodyguard, and servants which were carrying in various objects of wealth. Kneeling amongst the wealth were men and women in shackles, those captured in rebellion, who would hence forth live their lives as slaves. "My darling wife," his father was saying as he greet Marcus' mother "I have brought you this gift back from the East." He wrapped a necklace around her neck, with five jeweled pendants strung from it. "And daughter," he said, "I have brought you clothes which the Jewish merchants bought in Persia." Two of the servants brought over a chest, which her father opened and handed her one gown from. "Marcus! Come forward." The crowd parted for him as he made his way through. "Your gift must be given to you in private. Follow me to the exhedra." Marcus followed his father to the sitting room. Back a few steps, two of his guards followed behind him, while the others looked to what was brought back from the war. Decimus sat in down in his chair when he entered the exhedra. It was from this chair that, when he was at his estate, he would give commands for the running of the household. Naming punishments and responsibilities for the hundreds of people under him. In this chair he was the pater familiae. "Stay standing," he said as Marcus moved to sit in one of the other chairs in the room. The two guards closed the door as they entered, then stood guard at opposite sides of the entrance. "I understand that you came of age while I was away putting down the rebellion." Marcus nodded. "You will be going to Rome soon, and the truth is I do not think that you are ready to represent this family in the senate or the forum." The words stung, his father had gotten at his anxieties, and he knew his father had considerable power over him. "Aula will be getting married soon, and I have put consideration into adopting her husband to be my heir. You would in such a case be sent to the army. And likely that would be all." Marcus tried his best to keep his composure, but his stomach twisted with every word. Decimus sighed. "Perhaps it has been my fault though. Perhaps I have not done enough to support you." He looked as though he was considering his next words seriously. "You shall remain my heir, but you must learn how to act as a patrician. Otherwise you shall get nothing." Marcus could tell from his gaze and his voice that he was serious. "Here is my gift to you," Decimus said, signaling to the men standing behind Marcus. They opened the door, and two of the guards entered dragging between them one of the slaves he had seen in the reception room just a few minutes earlier. A girl about his age, with dark curly levantine hair. She had been cleaned up, though she was still hurt and scared. The men threw her into the room, and walked back out through the same door. She lay crying on the floor slowly trying to get to her feet. "She is a rarity," his father said with a hint of admiration, "I kept her from being touched since her capture. She has never known a man." Marcus stared at her. She was crying and murmuring prayers to herself. His father looked with interest, and the guards ignored her. Decimus turned his attention back to his son. "A Roman must never be afraid to take what is his." "I..." Marcus could not think of what to say. She was beautiful. He wanted to stop her from crying. "I personally killed her father and brother," said Decimus. "They were a wealthy family, she would have had a nice life. In many ways you two are similar, she has lost what she could have had because her family did not recognize the rights bestowed on Rome by its strength, and you are about to lose what is yours because you do not have the strength to take those rights." "I don't..." "A Roman must never be afraid to take what is his," his father repeated. "You must learn that lesson before we leave this room, or I will have taught you nothing." He looked to his father. His gaze left no question as to whether he was serious or not. Then he looked to the pretty young jewish girl, crying and murmuring in Hebrew. He approached her, and held out his hand to her face. She screamed, shouting at him in her incomprehensible language and clawing at his face with a viciousness that surprised him. He tried to grab her, but she continued to attack his face until he threw her on the hard ground with all the strength he could muster. She was cried harder then, with her face pressed against the tile floor. He threw his cloak on the floor and got on top of her. In all of it he forgot his father was there. Forgot the guards were there. He was angry, and she was there to be angry at. She struggled as she felt him positioning himself over her. Until he grabbed her hair and pushed her back into the floor. He pushed her legs apart with her knee and felt for his destination. Then it was an easy movement to rearrange his outfit, pull his dick out. She screamed as he pushed it in her. From there he could only think about the feeling, as she flexed herself against his invasion. He too was inexperienced. He had never let himself go. He forgot who he was having sex with, and that his father was watching him, and just lost himself in the feeling of his waist against her ass, his dick inside of her, and yes the strength of just taking what he wants. He didn't think about the feelings, but just fucked as hard as he could until she had stopped resisting and was just limply crying as he had his way with her. He was surprised when his father spoke behind him. "Turn her over." He stopped, and looked up at Decimus, watching with patrician authority from his chair. "I want you to look in her eyes. This is about your relationship to this woman, not just her body." She didn't struggle when he got off of her and rolled her over. He tore off her clothes, so he could see her breasts as he fucked her. He then pushed himself back in and continued. Taking more time to enjoy it. Her breasts were beautiful as they moved with each of this thrusts. She cried quietly now. She looked up at him with eyes asking for pity. Her eyes were shocking to him, yesterday he would not have thought he were capable of such a thing. He would like to have made her smile if he had met her yesterday. But he didn't dare stop now. This was the natural order of things. She was a slave, his possession, and this is what she is here for. With that thought he took all anger, all passion, all affection and all hate out of his thoughts. He just fucked her. Looking into her eyes without pity or remorse. More with curiosity as the pain of his first attacks went away and she got used to the feeling of being fucked. This was the way things worked. His body tensed and he filled her with his cum. He then stood up and reordered his clothes, letting the girl crawl up against the wall. As he did so he noticed his sister looking from the outside window, outside the view of their father or the guards. She did not turn away when she saw him. "You did well Marcus," his Father said. "I will give you increasing responsibilities around the estate until you leave for Rome." Marcus nodded. "I must not see that you have forgotten the lesson you have learned here. A few more slaves will be given over for dealing with your personal issues. And I expect this to be with child by the time you leave," his father signaled offhand to the girl in the corner, "we will give her a room outside the slave chambers to assure that it is yours." Marcus did not know how to respond to that. "Anyways, we shall see how it goes." With that Decimus left and his two guards left the room. Leaving Marcus to attend to his slave.