1 comments/ 11044 views/ 3 favorites The Senate and the Circus Ch. 01 By: DarkRedFox Setting: Augustan Rome, ~20 B.C.E Chapter 1 -- The Roman Forum The counsellor scanned the stage as he walked through the market district. He wasn't looking to buy any slaves, but the especially pretty ones made excellent political gifts. Today's crop was disappointing. It looked like they were all peasants from the surrounding areas who had sold themselves or whose parents had sold them, probably to pay off debts. "A young girl from the outskirts of Naples! Young and ready to be trained to any task you desire! ANY task!" The slip of a girl was shivering in fear, her wide brown eyes pleading with the crowd. The crowd laughed at her. A fat woman in unflattering red silk bought her. "Two brawny men well-trained in handling livestock!" The two looked surly, but went for a premium. The rest looked unremarkable and disappointing, and the counsellor walked on. He could have taken a carriage or commandeered something, but it was good to get out and stretch his legs in the morning. Just as he was about to pass out of the district, a crier announced, "A blond temptress from Gaul! Eyes like blue diamonds, breasts like ripe apples. Plenty of spirit to be indulged or broken as you desire!" The walker turned. Two guards in white were leading a nearly nude woman onto a small corner stage at the far end of the slave market. If anything, the crier wasn't extolling her charms enough. She looked ferocious, and she chose to ignore the crowd, instead staring intently at a older man with once-strong muscles gone slightly to fat who sat in a chair at the corner of the stage. He was almost certainly the slave merchant, and he paid no attention to her. His eyes probed the crowd for a potential buyer. "Do I hear 100 sestertii? ... 150? ... 200? 200 going once! 250 to the man in the corner! 350 to the Nubian. Going once! ... Twice!" "One thousand." He wasn't quite sure what had come over him. The words had just seemed to jump out of his mouth. The price was ridiculous, but he could afford it; he just wasn't sure what he was going to do with the slave girl. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Looking at her on the stage in her wispy shift, he had at least a few ideas about that. Perhaps it would be more sensible to send her off to one of the consuls as a gift, though. A beautiful slave could earn him some very useful political favors, especially if she was obedient and well-trained. That might be a sticking point. It looked like they'd just dragged her out of the slave cage and pushed her onto the stage. Was that mud on her face or a black eye? "One thousand to Marcus Vulpus! Once! Twice! ... Sold!" The crier gestured to the woman's guards to take her to one side, where an older slave waited with a money box, surrounded by guards of his own. Marcus strode over. "Morning, sir! Congratulations on your purchase. She's a beautiful piece of work. And, if I may, I think you'll really enjoy her," the money slave said. He eyeballed the man. "You may not. Please prepare the slave and have her sent to my villa outside town. A stylus, please?" The slave grimaced and handed him a stylus, and Marcus wrote a quick note on a wax tablet, then signed it. "Take this over to the banker on the corner of Veritas and Aureus at the base of the Appenine Hill. He'll release the funds to you." The slave put a cover on the tablet and placed it carefully in his strongbox. "Would you like to inspect her before you leave?" Marcus nodded. It was honest of the slavers to offer. Some of them tried to pass off defective slaves to buyers by concealing injuries under their clothes, by drugging them, or by various other means. "Yes, let's take a look." One of the guards turned and gestured for Marcus to follow, leading him back behind the stage to a small building. Unlike most slave cages, the building didn't reek of bodily fluids and unwashed people, but there was still a slight unpleasantness to the air. "This way, sir." The guard went down to the end of one hallway and stopped at a large oak door. The door was only secured with a simple latch, but it could only be opened from the outside. The guard opened the door and shouldered his way through, scanning the room. Marcus followed him. The slave girl was sitting on the single wooden bench in the room with her knees crossed over each other. She glowered at the guard as he entered, then gave Marcus an appraising and challenging stare. Marcus almost smiled. She had a lot of spirit for a woman just sold at auction as a slave. The guard barked at her. "Yer new master's here, girl, and it isn't right fer ya to sit while he's standing. Get up!" She waited a moment and he moved forward to pull her off the seat roughly, but she dodged out of his way and moved to the far corner, still watching Marcus intently. Marcus sat down on the bench and regarded her. "Qui etez-vous et ce que voulez-vous avec moi?" She stared at him. "Je t'ai achete. Ce que je veux est plus complique. Mais, tu dois parler dans une langue civilisee. Sais-tu Latin?" She frowned at him and gave him a surly look. "Yes ... I can speak a ... little ... Latin." "Good. You'll have to work on that to make me happy. Now, I'm here to take a look at you and make sure you're healthy. Please take off your shift." She clutched the wisp of fabric to her body. Her actions didn't do much except to pull the material up higher on her thighs. "Now, please, or I'll ask this fellow here to remove it for you." Marcus waited patiently. There was always a period of adjustment with new slaves. They had to learn that you meant what you said, and that they needed to respond immediately. She still just stared at him and shook her head. The guard moved forward and the girl back into the corner, holding her shift even more tightly. He reached out and grabbed her hands and roughly pulled them away from her chest and glowered at her, then reached forward to pull her shift off. The girl suddenly lunged forward and stomped on the guard's foot, which caused him to swear and backhand her. His blow snapped her neck around and she collapsed against the wall. "Stop!" Marcus narrowed his eyes and stared at the guard. "Did I give you permission to damage my property?" The guard blinked. "Uh, err..." "Eloquent. Go stand over there." Marcus gestured to the other side of the room. "When we're done here, I'll be reporting this to your employer." He stood and walked over to the girl and gently cupped her face in his hand to look at the damage the guard had down. There was a red hand-print already forming on her cheek, and her eyes were wet. She looked a bit dazed, too. Marcus took a corner of his toga and wiped her face off, which made her look up at him questioningly. "It's all right. Stand up now, and take off that shift. We'll get you in something better before you leave here anyway. I can't have one of my slaves dressed like that." The girl slowly stood up, holding on to the wall behind her. She looked at Marcus again and then stared at the floor as she shrugged her shoulders and let her shift fall down to puddle around her feet. Marcus took a step back and looked at her. He briefly thought about ordering the guard to turn around, but the girl needed to get used to being looked at, and besides, the guard had probably seen her naked before. Her body was exquisite. Her blonde hair, though a bit dirty, fell past her shoulders and framed a triangular face with large blue eyes marked out with curving cheekbones, though the hand-print was ruining the aesthetics. Marcus felt his irritation at the guard rising. The man was a barbarian to mar beauty like this. Her throat was long and pale and curved into slender shoulders that arced out and down toward her small hands. Her breasts were high and round and tipped with small aureloae the size of an as and dark pink nipples, which sat slightly angled upward on her breasts and pointed toward the ceiling on the other side of the room. Her waist was long and slender, and her abdominal muscles were pronounced just enough to provide extra curves. Ribs were visible on the sides of her torso, but it didn't look like she'd been starved. Her hips curved outward and led smoothly to a long, lean set of legs with toned calf muscles and healthy feet. Marcus's eyes lingered for a moment on the small triangle of delicate blonde hair between her thighs. He could just make out the hint of her lower lips, which looked to be small and compact. The longer he looked at her, the more he thought this purchase had been an excellent idea, impulsive or not. "You look beautiful. We'll definitely put you in something much more flattering soon. Turn around now." The girl was still staring at the floor, but she slowly turned around until she faced him again. As she turned, Marcus admired her willowy profile and let his eyes linger for a moment on her tight backside, which was shaped like an inverted heart. There were toned muscles in her shoulders and back, too, and Marcus nodded in approval. Yes, she'd be perfect, even if he hadn't decided what she'd be perfect for yet. Still, there was one little thing missing. "That's enough. Guard, let's go back to the table." The guard sullenly led him out of the room, and the girl lifted her head to watch him as he exited, but Marcus didn't see her or the question in her eyes. When he got back to the table, he informed the slave with the money box that the guard had damaged his property without permission and the slave promised that the owner of the slave business would be notified and the guard punished. Marcus nodded. "Good. Before you bring her over to my villa, I want you to do one other thing for me." Marcus pulled a small pouch out from the inside of his toga and counted out about a dozen gold coins. "There's a jeweler in the Vintner's district south of the Capitoline. Take her there and tell him to give her a full set in electrum. Whatever's left out of these coins, you may keep." The Senate and the Circus Ch. 02 Chapter 2 – New Sensations The man in the purple-edged toga did not turn as he strode out of the holding cell. Adeline's wet eyes flung daggers at his receding back, but despite the force of her anger, there was no visible effect. She could hear him talking to someone, probably one of the guards, before he left the building, but she couldn't make out what he was saying despite the fact that her Latin was better than she'd let on. May Cernunnos and Camalos curse you, you white-robed bastard. Whatever he thought he was going to do with her, she determined, he'd be sorely disappointed. And may Smertrios bend that donkey's ass Vergex over and violate him with his four-edged spear! She whispered fiercely in her own language. "Hear my prayers, gods of war and darkness, and I will leave you offerings of coin and blood on your feast-days!" The gods were fickle, and they'd ignored her entreaties so far, but she had little to do at the moment but pray and stoke her anger. She gingerly felt at her cheek where the crulot of a guard had hit her and winced. The entire left side of her face ached, and it hurt to move her jaw. She tried to yawn and a bolt of sharp pain stopped her, and her eyes teared up again. She started to wipe them away and then stopped, sinking down to the ground near her shift and leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed. The shift the slaver had given her was thin and worn out, and it didn't conceal much at all, but it was the only thing she had. She clutched it to her breasts and curled up against the wall, the tears leaving tingling trails down her cheeks. A salty drop fell from her chin and ran between her breasts, and she scrubbed it away. The gods damn you, Vergex. I hope my brothers find out what you did and kill you – slowly! A month ago, her litany against Vergex had been more inventive, but the trip to Rome had been a nightmare. She and a group of ten other women had all been forced into a caged wagon too small for half their number and slowly hauled across the Alps and down a road a guard had called the Via Appia. The guards had thrown water through the bars to wash the women off twice a day, but there had been no privacy from their gawking eyes, their wandering hands, and, for most of the women, their other desires. The caravan owner had ignored the guards' behavior for the most part, even when they had drug some of the other women behind a tree or wagon after dinner. He seemed willing to let them do whatever they wanted as long as they didn't damage the women too badly. There had been one night when she had heard Katya crying out, and the sounds of hands hitting flesh. She hadn't seen what had happened and Katya wouldn't talk about it, but she carried her arm as if it were broken and there had been blood on her thighs. Adeline had seen when the caravan owner had ordered four other guards to beat the man who had hurt her. The beating had seemed to go on for an hour, and the caravan owner had left the guard by the side of the road. He only cared if the guards damaged us before we got to Rome and he could sell us. The guards had left her and one of the other women, a younger girl who hadn't spoken the entire journey, alone for the most part. They had even seemed a bit leery of the two of them, probably because the caravan master hadn't hesitated to use his whip on anyone who seemed to be getting too free with them. He hadn't cared if the guards groped her or leered at her, but she had never been drug behind a wagon like most of the other women. It was a small blessing, and she had given thanks to Damara daily since. She glanced up at the wooden door of her cell again, and blinked away another tear. The man in the toga had said something about better clothes, and she desperately wanted them, but every second she was alone was precious. She took a look around her again. The cell she was in was dirty, and the only objects in it were the bench on the far wall and a wooden bucket in another. It was obvious what the bucket was for, but she didn't want to get any closer to it. There was a large, barred window in the ceiling and a grooved channel cut into the floor. She guessed that rain came straight into the cell and cleaned it out, then ran down the channel. She shivered again, and clutched her shift tighter. She closed her eyes. Someone was pulling on her hair. Her eyes snapped open and she growled at the burly guard, different than the last one, who had his hand tangled in her hair. He laughed at her and gave another yank. He was wearing a version of what she'd seen the legionnaires wear, a boiled leather breastplate over a brown rough-woven tunic and a skirt of leather strips held up by a thick leather belt with a bronze buckle. Sandals laced up his dusty calves and tied at the knee. His skin was that color so common here in the south, a light olive that gleamed with sweat. It was so different than her much fairer coloration. The guard saw her looking at him and winked. "Get up, girlie. Your new owner has plans for you and you're going one way or another." She glared at him again and he chuckled, then roughly pulled her to her feet by her hair and arm. As he pulled her up, his bronze belt buckle dragged across her hip and dug into her sensitive skin. She cried out, but tried to stifle it; she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he'd hurt her. She was used to the towering men of her tribe back in Gaul, and the guard was short by her standards, but very wide in the shoulders. He only had a few inches on her in height, but two of her would barely have spanned his chest. She refused to look up at him and glared at his breastplate instead. Once she was standing all the way, he let her go, but stayed close to her. "Give me your shift. There are different clothes waiting for you down the hall," he said. If she had been looking, she would have seen his eyes trailing down her body before he smiled at what he saw. She clutched her shift more tightly and shook her head, looking at the floor. The guard might beat her, but she was damned if she was going to give up her shift and let him oogle her without a fight. She heard him laugh and glanced up quickly, and saw that the bastard was actually smiling! She glared at him again, and his smile widened. "Well, if you want to eat and change clothes, you're going to have to lose that rag sometime. I've been ordered to take it away from you before you leave this room, then take you to the storage room. Your new master has sent a robe for you, and he wants you to eat something, too. Then we're going over to a shop near the Capitoline Hill to get you some other things." The guard raised an eyebrow. She looked back down at the floor. Food and clothes sounded incredible, but she refused to let him know that she wanted them. "No ... Latin," she mumbled. Maybe he'd buy it and leave her alone for a few while he found an interpreter. It was worth a shot, even if it was more likely that he'd just drag her down the hall anyway. The guard frowned at her and scratched his chin, then pointed at her shift. "Give that to me, and then you can have some food." He mimed bringing food to his mouth with his hand. Does the girl really not understand me? There is that rebellious gleam in her eyes, and she seemed to understand me earlier. She shook her head again and clutched her shift. She copied his eating gesture, and then pointed to her shift. The guard blinked and laughed again. He took a long, slow glance down her body and let his eyes linger at her bare thighs and the wispy blonde triangle between them, as if to emphasize that she wasn't hiding much by keeping her bit of cloth. She clenched her thighs more tightly to deny him as much of a view as she could, and then mimed the eating gesture again before pointing to her shift. The guard shook his head and chuckled, then turned and walked over to the door. A knock later, he was outside and it had closed behind him, and she heard him chuckling as he walked away. A few minutes passed and she heard the guard returning. The latch on the other side of the door clunked as it was pulled up, and he came back into the room holding a bunch of grapes. The guard strode toward her, which only took a few steps in the small cell, and held out his hand for her shift. She shook her head, which caused him to snort. "You're going to be an interesting slave, girl. You'll either end up free and wealthy with that attitude or, more likely, beaten to death and left in a ditch, if you're not just sold to a brothel after your master gets tired of your attitude. Here, take them." He held out the grapes in one hand, and gestured with the other for her clothes. She darted forward and tried to grab the grapes, but the guard pulled them back too quickly, then frowned at her. "Enough games," he said. "I'm being easy on you here, so give me your shift." He pointed again. She scowled, but slowly pulled her shift away from her chest. Even after being oogled and groped all the way to Rome, and naked in front of the man in the toga, she hated to show this guard her breasts. As long as she had at least a little bit of clothing, no matter how ragged or how badly it hid her, she felt as if she had some measure of dignity and control. At least if I have be naked, though, I've forced him to give me something in return. It was a small victory, but she'd take every one she could get. She tried to cover herself with her elbows as she pushed the shift toward him, but he made her reach forward to take the grapes. She didn't want to risk that he was only teasing her with them, and she had to completely bare herself to get them at the same time that he took her shift. She quickly grabbed them and then backpedaled, and then shoved a few of them into her mouth in case he was going to try to take them back now that he'd gotten what he wanted. The guard didn't move toward her, though. Instead, he whistled softly. "Damn, girl. I see why Vulpis paid so much for you, especially if you're a virgin like they're claiming. Gaul definitely grows them right. I wish I had the money to have bought you. You'd never have left my bed. You'll be even sexier when you've got a little bastard growing in your belly." The guard's eyes lingered on her breasts, and then moved downward. His interest was obvious, not just in his eyes, but in the bulge that was growing beneath the straps of his leather skirt. Adeline frowned at him and glanced nervously at his growing interest, then backed up another step, eating her grapes as quickly as she could. She wasn't sure what the guard was going to do, but his interest was obvious, and she'd seen some of the things that the guards had done to the other women, and could guess at the rest. His attention was flattering, in a way, but also terrifying. She ate another grape and swallowed hard. If she screamed, would anyone care? After a moment, his eyes grew thoughtful. "I'm not one to force a woman, even a slave, but you'd tempt Jupiter himself. If you can be quiet, I'll make you a deal, and no one else would make you a similar one. I don't dare take a virgin, but no one will know the difference if I use your mouth." The guard looked at her, then reached down to the leather pouch at his belt and untied it. He rummaged around in it for a moment, then drew out a thin bronze bracelet. "I'll give you this bracelet if you give me your mouth, and if you can be quiet about it." The guard pointed to the bracelet, then to the tip of his cock, which was now slipping through the straps of his skirt, and then to her mouth. Her first reaction was to back up another step. He wants me to do what? Is this what men and women do in Rome? I'm not putting my mouth around that! She pretended confusion, and the guard waited a moment, then gestured toward her. He dropped her shift on the floor and then made a loose fist with that hand. He brought his hand toward his mouth and pretended like he was sliding something between his lips; his head bobbed up and down a few times on the imaginary cock, and then he looked at her again. He raised the bracelet up in the air. She looked down at his cock, and then back up at him. It looked like his cock fit the rest of him, not long, but very wide. She wasn't sure she could fit the whole thing in her mouth. Am I really wondering if I can fit it in my mouth? Damara! She swore at herself, but then reconsidered. Maybe, well, it seems gross, but maybe if I do it, I can use that bracelet to bribe someone to help me. She had nothing of her own and she wasn't sure where she'd hide the bracelet. She certainly wasn't going to wear it, which would just tempt someone else to take it away. Damn it all! Am I really thinking about taking this man's shaft in my mouth for a bracelet? What's wrong with me? Back home, the thought never would have crossed her mind, and she'd have struck anyone who suggested she'd do such a thing. The trip to Rome had forced her to reconsider many things about her life, though, and she'd come to realize that the world was a harsh place and that one took any advantage that one could find. The bracelet would be one, even if, as she suspected, it wasn't worth much. The guard also seemed decent, insofar as the guard of a slaver could be. He hadn't hurt her much when he could have, and he had traded her the grapes for her shift when he could have just manhandled her clothes away from her. She had no illusions that she could overcome him in a fight; his biceps were as big around as her thighs. He even seemed to have a sense of humor, which was rare, and he wasn't forcing her now, but offering her a deal. In all, he was the most decent man she'd met since she'd been attacked in her father's home, bound, gagged, and thrown over a horse. That realization chilled her. The best man I've met wants to buy my mouth in exchange for a bracelet, and thinks I'd look sexier pregnant! Nonetheless, she couldn't help but feel a little affection for him, and looking at the muscles in his arms and chest, and at the thick length framed by the leather strips below her waist, she was shocked to feel a touch of warmth between her thighs. She clenched her thighs together to hide her arousal, and then almost groaned at the sensation. Oh, Damara, don't judge me harshly. She reached out to take the bracelet. The guard pulled the bronze band back slightly, and then motioned to her to wait. She paused, and he folded her shift over itself and set it on the floor in front of the bench. He then turned around and sat on the bench, and gestured for her. She walked toward him and he pointed toward the rag on the floor, and motioned for her to kneel on it. She bit her lip to stop a grimace and lowered herself. The guard leaned back against the wall and adjusted the straps across his waist, revealing himself. She studied his cock for a moment. It was a lighter olive than the rest of him, and it wasn't quite as long as her hand. She wasn't sure she'd be able to get her fingers around it if she tried, though, and she had no idea if she could take him in her mouth. The head was topped by a small slit, and when the guard squeezed his meaty hand around himself, the head bulged and darkened. He shifted in his seat impatiently and reached for her. She jerked her head back, but his hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her forward. Before she knew it, his head was pressing against her lips and, surprised at the pressure, she gasped slightly. His cock slid immediately through her loose lips and into her mouth, and she gasped again, but it was stifled by his length. He groaned and paused for a moment. "Dies infernae, girl, your mouth is incredible." She pulled against his grip on her hair, but his hand tightened on her, and she found herself growing wetter. The mental image of herself kneeling here in front of him, her mouthed stretched open by his width, with his hands controlling her movements sent a shiver through her. She clenched her thighs together again and groaned around his cock, which elicited a similar response. He tasted of dust and some manly flavor, and she inhaled sharply. It was hard to breathe through her mouth and with her nose so close to his thighs, it seemed like she was inhaling the pure essence of his maleness. She sorted through the scents unconsciously: leather, olive oil from when he'd last bathed, sweat and dust, and some heavy, deep, almost spicy aroma that resonated not with her nose but with some place deep in her belly. She tightened her lips around his cock and slid backwards, taking a gasp of air as his head popped out of her mouth. She briefly though of biting his shaft in half, but she couldn't see a benefit in it. If he didn't kill her for it, someone else might, and she'd lose the bracelet. Her affection for him was growing, too, and she just didn't want to fight with him any more. She opened her mouth as wide as she could and slid back down over his length. His shaft grew thicker as she went down, and after a couple of inches, she couldn't stretch her jaws any wider. He felt curious in her mouth: he was stretching her almost to the point where it was painful, but he was so warm and curiously soft and hard at the same time. She let her tongue tentatively stroke the bottom of him, and she felt him tense. His hands tightened in her hair and he pulled her forward again. She hadn't thought that her mouth could go any wider, but suddenly something shifted in how she was holding herself and his tip pressed against the entrance to her throat. She gagged reflexively and almost bit him, and tried to slide backward, but his hands refused to let her go. He held her head in place with his hands and begin to buck his hips. His shaft slid slowly out of her mouth and then forced its way back in, each stroke demanding that her mouth accommodate him. As she tried her best to relax and let him use her, she realized that her right hand had slipped down between her thighs and was teasing her little bud. She stroked herself in tiny circles, remembering the nights that she had explored her body in her bed, with her brothers only feet away, and she gasped, as best as she could, as she gently squeezed. Her fingers trailed with slippery ease between her lower lips as the guard's cock slid between her upper ones, and she heard him groan and felt his pace increase. He still held her in place as he took her mouth, his tip nearly penetrating her throat on the deep thrusts, but he shifted his hands so that his thumbs were caressing her cheeks as he held her by her hair. She surrendered to his grip on her and let him move her mouth up and down on him as he pleased, and as she did, she found herself growing even wetter, which she hadn't thought was possible. She slid a finger up against her entrance and teased herself, and was just starting to slip it inside when she felt him grunt and pull her head forward. As her finger slid inside her tight little pussy, his cock seemed to swell in her mouth. She gasped at the intrusion of her finger and clenched her muscles around the invader just as she felt his cock pulse in her mouth and a wet, salty substance strike the back of her throat and coat her mouth. She couldn't breathe for a moment and gagged, and he slid his cock out slightly but still held her head firmly. She struggled against him to no avail as more of his liquid filled her mouth and began to leak out of her lips. She swallowed reflexively and felt his excitement slide slowly down her throat and settle in her stomach, where it rested with an unusual weight. She swallowed again, to the same sensation, and then pulled back. He let her go and leaned against the wall, groaning. Kneeling there on the floor with his fluid still on her lips, she looked up at him and saw that his eyes were only slits. His wide shaft was deflating again, and she almost felt a loss as it did. Then she shook her head, wiped his fluid from her mouth, and quickly took the bracelet from his hand. She didn't entirely understand the feelings that had gone through her and she wasn't sure what his reaction would be, so she backpedaled, hiding the bracelet behind her. He opened his eyes slightly and looked at her, then grinned and laughed, and murmured something in Latin that she didn't understand; it almost sounded affectionate. The Senate and the Circus Ch. 02 The next thing she knew, the guard was standing again and rearranging himself, and he picked up her shift in one hand and knocked on the door. As it opened, he nodded to her, and then took her by the arm and escorted her out. She struggled against him briefly, but his grip was iron, and since she had no idea where she would go, she was fighting more for the principle of the thing than out of any desire to escape at the moment. He walked her down the stone-paved hallway toward a large, iron-banded door with a locking clasp and knocked on it.