The Fire of Venus by electric ferret (Bi sex, Incest-brother/sister, Historical fantasy, Anal, WS)



Chapter I

Helena sat in the warm spring air of the garden enjoying an afternoon 
brunch. She had risen late today and had just returned from outside on 
the avenue, where a morning pastry vender, packing his cart to leave, 
sold her the last of his wares. Now, she savored her catch of baked 
goods, considering the day, as she sat perched upon her favorite seat 
in the garden.

Her favorite seat was a wide, flat, gray-speckled rock, raised at 
center by a low mound of earth. It could, in theory, be used as a table 
for four, but rarely was anymore since Daddy had paid a local artisan 
to decorate the rock. The artist had carved a fine rendering of the 
Grecian Hercules legend into the once smooth table-top. The relief 
sculpture, while interesting to look at, was quickly found to be an 
unsuitable surface to keep urns, mugs and jars upright upon. Dining in 
the garden was soon transplanted to a formal wooden table brought in 
for the purpose while the rock-table fell to novelty status.

However, as far as Helena was concerned, the rock had never been better 
for sitting upon, as she did now. Warmed by its exposure to the sun, 
Helena would sit her naked ass upon the rock and enjoy the heat of its 
surface seeping through her whole body. For the short span of her 
fifteen years, her relationship with this rock had been one of the 
constants of her days.

Now, with the added bumps and ridges sculpted in, the rock reached and 
warmed new areas of her body. Helena discovered the perfect area of 
raised and lowered sculpture which provided direct warmth to every 
region, from outside buttocks and thighs to the inner lips of her 
labia. It was a heavenly sensation, but a private one since the 
material of her short tunics hid her positioning. Of course she wore no 
undergarments to obstruct the contact of tender flesh to heated rock; 
undergarments, in the strict sense, were not generally worn by the 
people of Rome. A wrapped loincloth would be donned for athletics or 
when performing heavy labor, but beyond this it was an undesirable 
constriction.

Helena's slender fingers moved a pastry between a saucer of milk, a 
saucer of honey and her own lips. She glanced at her fingernails as the 
hand bearing food approached her face, then splayed her free hand to 
view the nails there. Unpainted but clean and manicured, her nails were 
in good order, as was the rest of her. There was nothing false or 
decorative on Helena, and there did not need to be. She could easily 
rest upon her own natural merits and charms. Quite a fresh, young Roman 
beauty, she stood 5' 5" on long legs which ended in the firm, round 
swell of shapely buttocks. If she were standing, she would stand 
straight with head raised as the daughter of a wealthy Equestrian class 
family should. Such noble bearing only served to accentuate the shape 
of her firm breasts which were a mans handful in size and stood raised 
like two halves of ripe grapefruit. Hardly an hourglass figure, she was 
a bit narrow from hips to ribs, but as her mother would tell you, 
Helena was still filling out this aspect of her womanhood. Her face was 
a study in both fine details and exaggeration; a pert, slightly 
upturned nose separating large dark eyes accentuated by thick, black 
lashes and fine arched brows. Her chiseled, narrow chin led to full 
lips, white teeth and high cheek bones. Her hair was thick and fell in 
a long cascade down her back. It was a compelling set of features and 
she knew she had the ability to turn heads, though she had, as of yet, 
found little reason to exercise this power. She doubted she ever truly 
would, considering she would probably be expected to consent to a 
prearranged marriage to cement some family alliance or another. Such 
was the Roman way, and in that way Helena would be expected to serve 
her family. Her parents loved her, but also considered her an asset, in 
much the same way they considered their gold or even this rock-table an 
asset.

At the moment her parents, the masters of the estate, were gone. 
Helena's father, Lucius, had retired to his favorite gymnasium while 
her mother, Julia, was off on some social visit. This left Helena at 
the estate with a half dozen slave servants. The household slaves 
barely even pinged upon her consciousness as human beings (more like 
fixtures), so, as far as Helena was concerned, she was alone.

Helena had just finished the last of her pastries upon her rock and was 
feeling quite satisfied with the warmth radiating upon her nether 
regions when she heard a heavy, purposeful step and knew it was not a 
servant. Trudging down the garden path, it was her older brother 
Marcus, whom she loved dearly and was glad to see. Helena scooted from 
the comfort of her perch and rushed to meet him. Marcus was older than 
she, nineteen, and carving out the beginnings of a political career as 
a military tribune in the Imperial Legions. Marcus carried out 
administrative duties as a military tribune, but unlike many young fops 
from the upper class who used such a post as a stepping stone, Marcus 
had an actual interest in warfare and his fellow Roman warrior. He had 
spent time in the garrison and on the field training to learn the 
discipline of the "Capsarius": the medic, which had brought him respect 
from the legionary legate above and the centurions below. Such 
dedication of purpose, racing to battlefields he could have easily 
avoided to patch up wounded Roman soldiers, showed rare valor and 
strength which reflected well upon his family name. He was home in 
Rome, now, attending the legionary legate who was also in the city. 
Marcus had status, rank and fine looks, but somehow, despite this, was 
still a good person

Helena had seen women looking admiringly at Marcus during social 
functions, and flirting openly when they dared, but Marcus was 
perfectly oblivious to the attention. Helena had seen some truly prize 
efforts of innuendo and double talk fail miserably upon Marcus as he 
failed to register the meaning of the banter. It made her almost feel 
sorry for the women who would deign to speak with such a clueless male. 
Still, he was handsome and had reputation and rank, so they continued 
to try. Helena herself had investigated her brothers sexual preference 
as a favor to one of her female peers in society. Male bisexuality in 
Rome was legal, so it may have been that Marcus was simply not 
interested in females at all. Helena had discovered from clandestine 
interviews that while Marcus had never pursued relations with another 
male, he did not go out of his way to pursue females, either. He would 
go wenching for females when his cohorts induced him to it, and had 
short trysts with females who pressed themselves upon him. She decided, 
then, that her brother was straight heterosexual, but had some sort of 
problem with women. Marcus was either too skittish around women to deal 
with them or too serious about his job to let a woman in. Neither 
answer was acceptable to Helena about her beloved brother. Roman 
tradition and culture dictated that a good Roman male should dominate 
all conquests in his path. Good Roman sense decreed further that the 
male must marry. She had been waiting for a good time to broach this 
subject with him. She ran and embraced Marcus around his fine toga. 
"Marcus! I'm glad you came..."

Marcus grabbed both her bare upper arms and disentangled her from him. 
Looking up into the deep wells of his black eyes, she found there was 
something there she did not like.

Marcus spoke: "Helena. Dear sister. Did you accompany our parents to 
the party last night?"

"Yes," she nodded. A party at the palace. It had been fun. "Why do you 
ask?"

Marcus maintained an iron grip on her shoulders and shook her. Shook 
her as if she had done something wrong. Then he was very still. 
"Helena..." his voice trailed off as his gaze seemed to intensify upon 
her.

"What? What? What is it?" she cried, unable to rectify this behavior 
with anything she could have done. Her manner and poise at the social 
last night had been impeccable. Her conversation had been unremarkable. 
There was no error she made to warrant her brother stomping in, 
mentioning the party and then shaking her about.

"Helena," he said very quietly, "the Emperor has asked for you".

Helena suddenly went very still. "Caligula?"

"Yes" said Marcus.

"Asked for me?"

"Yes."

Helena was suddenly terrified. She felt ice surrounding her heart. 
"Caligula asked for me, personally?"

"Yes, I was sent to fetch you now. He saw you last night."

She understood now her brother's concern and felt it magnify in her own 
young bosom one hundred times. Caligula, Emperor of Rome, was a madman. 
She had heard tell amongst her circle of friends that the Emperor would 
send for pretty girls of the upper class, wives and daughters of 
Senators even, use them terribly and then discard them like broken 
toys. It was said his favorite sister, Drusilla, lived with him in lust 
and love within the palace as though she were his wife. When Helena had 
accidentally made eye contact with the Emperor last evening, the shock 
had froze her to the marrow. She had quickly lowered her eyes with 
demure grace and tried to avoid further eye-contact during the evening.

"Marcus, what do I do?"

Marcus shook his head. "There's nothing to do. Take a few moments to 
compose your appearance. I will be waiting outside in the carriage."

With that, he turned and left leaving Helena shaking with anxiety. It's 
probably nothing, she told herself. Perhaps the Emperor simply wishes 
to exchange pleasantries. Perhaps it was an unannounced event and 
others would be present, too. Helena tried to warm her heart with these 
images as she rushed to her quarters to prepare.

The traditional garment worn by all Romans, the tunic, came in three 
basic styles for a woman. These three basic styles had not changed in 
ages. Helena traded her short house tunic for a floor length, clean 
chiton; a style of tunic that had come from the Greeks. Once she added 
a belt to her waist, the shapeless garment turned the into a form-
fitting sleeved dress. She then turned her attention to make-up and 
accessories. Women depended upon jewelry and elaborate hair styles to 
accentuate their beauty and status in a world where clothing fashions 
hardly changed. Helena's mind was turning rapidly as she considered a 
mode of dress. If she dressed rich with jewels and finery to display 
the full mark of her noble Equestrian status, the badges of her station 
might protect her from Emperor Caligula's attention. More likely, 
though, this would only act as a lure. There was very little in Rome 
which could provide protection against the Emperor, least of all pretty 
jewels. Her other option was to dress humbly and hope her unadorned 
appearance made her unworthy of the Emperors attention at all. That 
seemed the best plan. So she grabbed but two small items of jewelry to 
adorn herself with and left her hair brushed but plain. She then went 
to meet Marcus in the carriage. They spoke little on the journey, both 
lost in their own sense of dread. Marcus did not like bearing his own 
dearly loved sister to a man whose reputation as a monster was growing 
rapidly. Helena spent her time in silent prayer to her chosen patron 
goddess Venus: the Goddess of Love, who the Greeks had called 
Aphrodite. She prayed this trip to the palace would be uneventful. At 
the palace, Marcus and Helena left their carriage and slaves behind and 
were escorted to meet with the Imperial presence. They were brought to 
an opulent camber, heavy with the wealth of Rome. Beautiful tapestries 
and curtains adorned the walls, while silk cushions, rich carpets and 
low furniture spread out in a sea of comfort on the floor. Delicious 
aromas floated in the air while precious sculptures and objects filled 
every nook remaining. Four slaves wearing golden masks and wrapped 
loincloths stood unmoving and out of the way, one along each wall, 
ready to jump at the slightest sign to please the Emperor.

Caligula was in the room, laying upon a mountain of silk pillows as a 
woman fed him grapes. Helena recognized the woman as the Emperor's 
sister, Drusilla. The escort announced their presence in a clear, loud 
voice, then turned and departed the scene. Caligula was on his feet in 
a moment, walking towards them with outstretched arms and smiling.

"Military tribune Marcus Tillius Paullus, welcome," he said, with good 
cheer. "And your lovely sister Helena. A woman of rare beauty."

Caligula was not a particularly attractive man. A pale, thin man, he 
suffered from premature balding and an excess of body hair. His face 
might be considered average, even homely, if not for the fiery eyes 
staring out of his skull, burning with his own importance and the 
knowledge of absolute power he held over every person and every object 
he surveyed. Caligula was fond of torturing victims and he would take 
sadistic pleasure in bringing death to anyone who offended him. Such 
deaths were already common and the number of ways it was possible to 
offend the emperor seemed to increase each day.

Caligula stopped before them, not bothering to look at Marcus. His 
whole attention taken in an abrupt examination of Helena. He began to 
circle her, taking sharp inventory of every inch of her body.

"And a woman of such beauty ... and modesty." He stopped in front of 
her again. "Helena," said the emperor, brushing his fingers against her 
cheek, "you've come to your emperor today dressed as a pauper! Can't 
your family provide better finery for such an exceptional woman-child?"

It took all of her will power to keep from shrinking at his touch. She 
remained silent, eyes lowered. Suddenly, he grabbed her chin roughly 
and jerked her head up. She was locked in his gaze.

"Is your family so eager to pinch a penny they would let their daughter 
go looking no better than a common plebeian? Answer me!"

Helena's mind went blank with terror as she dropped to both knees and 
put her head to the floor. Tears of anxiety poured from her eyes and 
she could barely control her breath well enough to choke out words. "I 
have offended. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please Lord. Please."

Marcus was disturbed, but was completely out of his depth. He stood 
formal and silent.

Caligula reached down and grabbed a fist of her hair, dragging her up 
off the floor. "Slaves," he cried. "Remove for me these rags at once!"

Golden masked slaves rushed to obey, roughly stripping the plain, white 
chiton and two meager pieces of jewelry from Helena's body. In her 
brain, she cursed herself for the clothes she wore and her scheme to 
avoid the emperors attention. What Helena did not know was that her 
fate with the emperor had already been sealed: even if she had dressed 
fine, the end result would have been the same.

She stood naked, trembling and tearful before the harsh gaze of 
Caligula. She stared down at the beautiful, plush red carpet which 
cushioned her bare feet.

"Ah, now that's better," announced Caligula. "What a prize fruit of the 
Roman empire. I am sure your parents have been shopping amongst the 
noble families, looking for a golden perch for their little bird. What 
an attractive wife you will make for some high-born, pimple faced dolt 
in this city."

Caligula turned away from her. "Sister Drusilla. What is your appraisal 
of this noble woman-child?"

Drusilla had not moved from the luxurious mountain of silk pillows. She 
lay there, looking openly upon Helena's naked form. Where Caligula had 
come up short in physical beauty, his sister Drusilla had done better. 
Drusilla was not ravishing, nor was she statuesque and beautiful in the 
classic sense prized by Greek artists, but she was cute in the face and 
her body was nicely built which was more than could be said for her 
brother.

"She is... tender," replied Drusilla.

"That she is, sister."

Caligula grabbed a fistful of hair at the base of Helena's skull and 
marched her across the room to his sister. He halted her before the 
pillows. "Why don't you come and sample her," he said.

Helena saw Drusilla's eyes narrow, fixing her brother with a dark look. 
Then it was gone, replaced by half-lidded and studied nonchalance. 
Helena now understood the emperors sister: she was a slave to the 
emperor's will just like Helena - just like everybody. She had been 
relieved of personal freedom and bound to the emperors incestuous lust.

"Of course," she said.

She crawled on hands and knees to them, stopping at their feet. She sat 
upon her knees, eye level to the soft, dark fur covering Helena's 
mound. Caligula pulled straight up on the hank of hair he held, forcing 
Helena to give up her balance and rise on tip-toes. He then used his 
knee to roughly kick open her legs and let go of her hair. Drusilla's 
slender arms had snaked around and between Helena's thighs by the time 
her feet were replanted. In that moment, Drusilla's warm mouth sucked 
in her clit and rolled it on her tongue. Helena went rigid with the 
shock of another woman's face buried in her crotch and the electric 
sensation of what that woman was doing to her. Drusilla moved her 
tongue deep into Helena's furrow and lapped at the juices there. Then 
she slid her tongue out and leaned back, looking at her brother.

"She tastes sweet, like the nectar of fresh pears, " said Drusilla.

Caligula smiled at her. Then the emperor wheeled around to Marcus, 
still standing across the room, now in open-mouthed disbelief. 
"Guards!" Yelled the emperor.

Four guards appeared in the opening behind Marcus.

"Bring him," said Caligula.

The guards laid rough hands on Marcus and pushed him along to face the 
ruler of the Roman Empire. Marcus knew, now, that things were getting 
serious but he had no idea how he had came to be in such trouble. He 
did nothing illegal, honored his family and honored his fellow warriors 
of Rome. He was an upstanding citizen.

Helena shook in fear, no longer for her own situation but for her 
brother. Her legs felt unsteady under the pressure of a situation which 
had spiraled so far out of control.

"Marcus Tillius Paullus," announced Caligula, speaking the name with 
loud authority as though to an accused in court.

Helena could take no more. Thinking the situation still had something 
to do with the clothes she had been dressed in, she tried to explain. 
"P-p-please your..."

The arm came around lightning fast as Caligula backhanded Helena, 
sending her crashing backwards into the lap of Drusilla. She yelped in 
pain and surprise.

"Insolent Bitch!" He shouted "You dare to interrupt the Monarch of Rome 
when he is speaking?" He turned his attention back to Marcus.

From behind Drusilla immediately wrapped legs around Helena's bare 
waist and used one arm to wrap her chest, holding her tight. As 
Helena's opened her mouth to curse, or scream or cry at what had been 
done to her, Drusilla quickly inserted the flat of her palm, which 
Helena bit down hard on.

"Daughter of Rome," Drusilla whispered, bringing her lips to Helena's 
ear. "your life is in danger this day. You must be strong. Shhhhhh."

Helena's breath caught in her throat as rivers of tears poured from her 
young, hazel eyes. Drusilla felt a sudden dampness by her thigh. 
Reaching down one hand between Helena's legs, she felt the wet, 
uncontrolled spray of urine as Helena soaked the cushion in her fright. 
Drusilla cupped Helena's tender mound tight, forcing the stream of piss 
to stay unnoticed by any others. The warm water of Helena's tears 
poured over one hand while the warm wash of Helena's piss flooded the 
other.

"Marcus Tillius Paullus," said Caligula even louder this time, 
regaining his place. "I have heard..." The emperor stopped, pursing his 
lips. "Actually, Marcus, I've heard good things about you. You are 
respected by the Legionary Legate and have earned praise for your 
conduct in battle."

Caligula paused and knitted his brows, as though he wished that he had 
not heard good things about Marcus.

"But you are young," he continued, "and while a credit to our great 
Republic there are wisdoms you must learn to be an even better example 
to Rome and your subordinates." Caligula seemed satisfied with that, 
nodded to himself and then turned to face the guards. "String him up," 
he said, waving at one of the walls.

The guards grabbed Marcus and dragged him to the wall.

"Sister," Drusilla breathed into Helena's ear. "be strong. For him you 
must be strong. Shhhhh."

Drusilla gently rocked Helena, and removed her hand from Helena's 
mouth, knowing the young woman would not speak. Helena's crying had 
subsided to the trembling of her chin and the odd tear. She had purged 
her bladder and taken control of it once more.

Helena rocked slowly with Drusilla as she watched the guards strip her 
brother Marcus naked. They drew back a curtain to reveal a black "X"- 
shaped cross which they shackled him to. Then the guards pulled a rope 
which hoisted the "X" upwards about five feet, and they tied it off.

"Leave me," Caligula ordered his guards, who quickly turned and filed 
out.

Caligula waved to one of his golden-masked slaves, who grabbed some 
item and rushed to please his master. Caligula inspected the item, and 
then nodded the slave on to Marcus. Helena soon saw the slave bore a 
long, black, phallic shaped instrument, either marble or wood.

"Marcus," said Caligula approaching him, "it is the right... nay, the 
duty of every free male in the Roman Empire to dominate those who are 
weaker. It is the cornerstone of the Republic. It keeps the Republic 
strong. Remember that I have power to do anything to anyone, and so I 
alone, in the far reach of Rome, am beyond any domination. And so, 
because I have taken a liking to you Marcus, and wish you to be an even 
stronger citizen of Rome, I will teach you my lesson of power."

Caligula nodded once to the slave. The slave placed the tip of the 
black phallus next to the tender flesh of Marcus' anus. Then he shoved 
forward and began cramming the beast into Marcus' intestine. Marcus 
grunted in pain, then breathed heavy through tightly clenched teeth

"Do you feel that, Marcus? That is me dominating you. It is my duty to 
dominate you because now I am made stronger, and now you know your 
place. This, in turn, brings order to society. Do you understand?"

Drusilla continued to speak in Helena's ear. "Daughter of Rome, who do 
you call your patron god?"

"I have chosen Venus from a young age," replied Helena quietly, "and I 
try to please her with offerings and praise."

"In your mind, you must call out to her as you never have before. You 
must summon her strength, beauty and wisdom and make it your own. A 
trial lays just ahead of you now - and I will be with you. You must be 
strong, and know that whatever we must do, I am as your sister in 
Venus. I will try not to hurt you - but you will feel pain. Summon 
Venus to you now, sister, and know that when I touch you, I love you.

Helena closed her eyes and shouted with her soul for Venus to help her.

"As you hang there feeling that special pain, Marcus, I want you to 
remember it is not just your privilege as a man of Rome, it is your 
sacred duty to pass that pain down to those weaker than you." Caligula 
turned to the women on the cushions. "Drusilla, bring her."

Drusilla unwrapped her legs from around Helena, then, encircling her 
waist with both arms, dragged the naked young woman up with her. She 
took Helena's hand and guided her to her brother. Helena's steps where 
sure. She seemed more confident. Perhaps her prayer was working.

A long, low, sofa with no arms and no back was near the scene, and 
Drusilla guided Helena to lay upon its decoratively embroidered 
softness. Drusilla ran her hands over Helena's smooth body, feeling the 
valleys and peaks of her form.

Caligula looked at his sister. "Drusilla, drink deeply from her well. 
Prepare her."

Drusilla parted Helena's shapely thighs to the side, and her legs hung 
over either end of the sofa. Drusilla licked between the young woman's 
thighs then around her wet down of pubic hair, left salty by the piss-
soaked cushion she had expelled on. Drusilla then tongued into Helena's 
furrow, cleaning the piss taste and coaxing the first drops of sweet 
lubricants to flow.

As this happened, Helena kept her eyes shut, throwing her plea, 
throwing her very soul out farther and farther to capture the aid of 
Venus. She did not feel pleasure at the touch of Drusilla; only the 
numb fear which was constant and the deep humiliation that a woman was 
probing her most private area with her tongue and that two men, one her 
brother, watched the spectacle. It was too much and she tried to 
remember every chant, every teaching and every legend - trying to draw 
that essence of Venus into her soul to keep her from going hysterical. 
Her consciousness fragmented as she pursued the call to Venus 
simultaneously while reaching out to the god the Greeks had called 
Aphrodite - as though she might act as a messenger if Venus were in 
Greece. Such a mind full of thoughts, chants, images and her own 
humiliation, and now that sucking sound and the warm pressure of 
Drusilla exploring her womanhood, she thought she would go insane. 
There was a flash of gold in her mind. Something snapped within her and 
she experienced full clarity of thought. She felt her fear and anxiety 
subside as her body began to grow warm. Goddess Venus had answered her 
call.

Marcus watched the emperor's sister Drusilla bury her face in Helena's 
cunt and was again shocked by the sight. Lesbianism in Rome was illegal 
had very strong taboos associated with it. The reason was simple - in 
the ultra patriarchal society of Rome, it was a man's right to dominate 
women and young boys for his sexual pleasure. When a woman seduced 
another women, she took the place of a man and was out of her station. 
The crime was considered adultery and could be punished by death. Along 
with this, there was a cultural bias among Romans against oral sex. The 
best domination of a woman or boy was achieved by penetration.

So here was his beloved little sister being humiliated and violated 
openly by another woman. She looked catatonic to Marcus - perhaps this 
was destroying his sweet sister's mind. He hung from his shackles and 
felt the pain burning deep in his ass, and he felt the humiliation of 
his sister burning in his heart. Rage at the injustice of this 
situation welled within him. There was nothing he could do. He knew 
Caligula might just choose to cut him and his sister to ribbons if it 
amused him. He knew his station.

"You see my beautiful sister, Marcus, and your beautiful sister 
together." Caligula looked upon the scene like a boy might look at 
insects captured in a jar. "This is what you must strive for - complete 
and total control. They may hate me, as long as they fear me. See the 
humiliation which wracks your sister's body? This is my second lesson 
for you. The body is easiest to dominate and the mind is harder. But 
having these, you must strive to own your victim's soul. I own your 
sister's soul, because I own you. I could have a dog brought in and 
your wholesome, virgin sister would fuck it if it pleased me and would 
keep you safe. I own your soul as well: it's down here lying upon this 
couch with Drusilla's tongue buried between it's legs." The Emperor 
stooped to trace a line with his finger down Helena's arching neck. 
"This lovely neck will be chopped as soon as I say so. So my mastery of 
you is complete."

Marcus knew that Caligula was insane. Marcus also knew his station. The 
lessons of Caligula were true.

"You love your sister, don't you Marcus? Isn't she beautiful?" Caligula 
stepped back as though admiring Helena's charms for the first time. "So 
round and supple. So fit of face and form, hand and foot." Caligula 
turned his full attention to Marcus, staring with those mad eyes 
crackling with power. "You have wanted her, haven't you? You've lusted 
for her body. You must have."

Marcus did not look at the emperor and did not reply.

"Answer Me!"

"Yes."

"Say it!"

"Yes, I have wanted my sister." It was true. He had wanted his sister 
for all of his life. Other women didn't interest him much, and the one 
woman who did, his own sister, he could not have. It was his curse to 
want Helena and never have her.

"Good. It is good that you have admitted openly that you want this 
woman. You must fully realize your own desires to act upon them and to 
remain strong. You must know what you want and then take it. This is my 
final lesson to you, Marcus."

Caligula walked behind Drusilla who remained bent over the crotch of 
Helena, licking and kissing it wantonly. Caligula raised his toga, 
crouched behind Drusilla and slid his cock into her doggy style.

"You see, Marcus? I can have my sister. I wanted to feel my incestuous 
love spray in my sister's hole. And so I accomplished it."

Caligula's three lessons to Marcus were done, and Marcus knew the 
sermon would be with him until the day he died.

"Uhhhgn." Caligula worked his cock in and out of his sister. Grabbing 
Drusilla's hair, he pressed her face deeper between Helena's thighs.

Helena felt what she considered to be a golden colored energy coursing 
through her veins. He skin became hot, so hot. Where before there was 
hysteria and fear, now there was only the physical awareness of 
Drusilla's tongue and the clarity of the golden light keeping her mind 
whole. I am love, thought Helena. Was it Helena's thoughts, or the 
voice of another in her mind. I am love and I am lust. Helena no longer 
lay like a pallid corpse. She moved her hips slightly and reached out 
to take Drusilla's hand. My sister tries so hard to give me the gift of 
her love, thought Helena. I must return the gift and love her back. 
Drusilla had said she would be Helena's sister in Venus through this. 
Drusilla had been so kind to her.

Drusilla was surprised by the sudden animation in poor, dear Helena. 
While the woman-child's cunt was sweet, she felt terrible that she had 
to humiliate her, so. There was hardly any joy for Drusilla in licking 
upon a person who could take no pleasure from her touch. She felt her 
brother enter her from behind, and far from being pleasurable, it was 
only a nuisance in her concern for Helena's state of mind. Then 
Helena's slender fingers reached out and took her own hand. Drusilla 
felt the hand was warm, firm and calm. Not trembling, not reaching out 
for comfort in crisis. Then Helena's hips began to move softly in time 
to her sucking and licking.

Helena believed she could feel Drusilla's love and tender concern for 
her through the link of their held hands. Helena tried to push some of 
her golden energy across to Drusilla, to tell her she loved her sister, 
appreciated her tender concern and would take joy in her touch.

Drusilla felt reassurance from her touch with Helena. Drusilla saw and 
felt Helena spreading her legs wider as she began fucking Drusilla's 
mouth in earnest. Helena's skin burned, and looking up, Drusilla could 
see her firm breasts heaved and her nipples stood jutting like hard 
little rocks. Her soft feelings of concern for a woman under duress was 
quickly replaced by the fire of lust for a beautiful woman-child who 
took pleasure from her.

Helena's sweet nectar flowed down Drusilla's chin as she swirled and 
twirled fast circles around Helena's clit. Pores opened and a fine dew 
of sweat was soon visible on both Helena and Drusilla.

From behind, Caligula, who had been thrusting into his sister in a 
slow, deliberate way to tease Marcus, began to pound her quicker as he 
was caught up in the scene. The sudden transformation of Helena from 
limp body to sexual beast was arousing. This is interesting, he 
thought. I will have her soon.

The musk of sex filled the room as Drusilla and Helena both dumped 
their scent into the air. It was almost overpowering to Marcus. In 
spite of himself he was getting an erection. Watching from above, 
shackled to his cross, he was transfixed by the beauty of his sister.

Helena moaned and moaned as the pleasure built within her. She began to 
breath Drusilla's name. "Drusilla, my sister. Drusilla my love."

Drusilla tried to take greater pleasure from the cock buried in her, 
thrusting her hips to capture it faster and harder. Caligula stopped 
her play though, not allowing her the ecstasy. He removed himself from 
her and stood up to disrobe. He would have this fiery little vixen 
Helena, now. When he had seen her at the Imperial party last night, he 
had taken her for just another uptight, frigid Equestrian with a pretty 
face. Something to toy with and dominate. Who knew this animal lurked 
within.

Her orgasm mounted and broke. Wave upon wave of pleasure rippled 
through her. Her muscles tightened as she bucked in Drusilla's mouth. 
At that moment she felt Drusilla's head torn away from her crotch. Firm 
hands gripped her thighs, roughly spreading her open, then pushing her 
thighs all the way back to her chest. She was totally exposed as hard 
fingers pulled open her dripping wet nether lips. She knew her sister 
in Venus, Drusilla, was no longer with her, and that this was her 
trial. A man would have her, now, for the first time. The golden light 
told her she was ready for it; she was love and she was lust. She 
hungered for any pleasure or pain which would come.

Gods she was exquisite to behold and warm to touch, thought the 
emperor. His own control was slipping as his desire for this woman 
beneath him became maddening. He sank his cock into her and felt the 
resistance of her maidenhood. With a powerful thrust he broke through 
the hymen and buried his cock to the balls within her body.

The sharp, ripping pain inside snapped Helena's eyes open, but she did 
not scream. She fixed her intense eyes, burning with the golden light 
in her mind, upon the unattractive face and glowing, power-mad gaze of 
Caligula. She snarled at him; a guttural, animal sound which came from 
the back of her throat and passed through clenched teeth. He growled 
back at her, louder, asserting his authority over her. His face was a 
mask of lust and intensity. With one hand he grabbed a fistful of 
Helena's hair and pulled hard, snapping her neck back so her eyes no 
longer challenged him. With the other he sank his nails into one of her 
breasts and used the leverage to drive every millimeter of himself into 
her cunt. Then he fucked her. fucked her hard. Caligula could not 
remember when his cock had been so excited, and he was rock hard. But 
he intended to make this last. He would not lose himself to her power, 
yet. Not so soon. Let her feel the pain of her lost virginity and the 
rape he would bring to her.

"Drusilla," Caligula turned to his sister, "take your pleasure from 
this animal."

Drusilla moved to the sofa and squatted above Helena's head. Caligula 
let go of Helena's hair, trading this grip for a tight hold on her ass.

Helena had closed her eyes again, feeling the pain in her breast and 
the wrenching pain of the assault between her legs. Her threshold for 
this pain had increased, and the light bade her give back. She bucked 
against the hardness invading her body. She matched it stroke for stoke 
and began to take pleasure in the invader through the pain. Then she 
smelled the musky aroma of Drusilla above her. Her sister in Venus had 
returned to her, and now she could show her love and thanks as she was 
meant to. She used her arms and hands to encircle Drusilla's waist 
above, and pulled her down. Helena pressed her mouth and face into 
Drusilla's damp fur, driving her tongue into her hole. Juices ran down 
her tongue into her throat as she tried to fuck Drusilla as best she 
could with her tongue, keeping the same hard, fast rhythm as the cock 
pumping inside her.

A clear dribble of pre-cum leaked from Marcus' throbbing shaft as he 
stared in amazement at the assault on his sister, and the furious 
sexual heat she returned to her two partners. His sister's beautiful 
face was hidden between the legs of Drusilla. Drusilla's moaning and 
panting was testament to his sister's novice but eager sucking skill. 
Virgin blood coated the shaft of the emperor who hunched tense over 
Helena, fucking her young body with wanton lust. The emperor had taken 
that young body and made it his own as Marcus himself had always longed 
to do. Jealousy, lust, humiliation and rage swirled within his breast, 
but he remained silent as he must. He no longer felt the phallus which 
pierced too deep in his ass, or the soreness of his wrists hanging from 
the black cross. He was utterly enthralled in the site of his lovely 
sister.

Caligula watched his sister Drusilla cum, wriggling upon the young 
woman Helena's face. Helena's cunt held him like a silky vice, so warm, 
so soft, so tight. Her juice now flowed as freely as the blood had 
before, and she gyrated with him, inviting him as deep into her womb as 
he could go. As Drusilla moaned her pleasure and spoke her name, 
"Helena, yes...", The emperor thrust a final time and washed her virgin 
walls with thick ropes of cum. The orgasm seemed to pulse through him 
forever as Helena rhythmically contracted and relaxed around his shaft, 
sucking every single drop up out of his balls and into her hungry 
fifteen year old body.

The emperor removed himself from her in a stupor and stood. His sister 
Drusilla had stood as well and looked upon the girl. Helena lay with 
his white seed, red blood and her own sticky nectar flowing out from 
between her legs. She was covered in a sheen of sweat which reflected 
the light and her face was covered in the love juice of his sister 
Drusilla. Her eyes were closed and she breathed deeply through her 
mouth, causing her firm round breasts, one marked red by his nails, to 
rise and fall upon her chest.

It was nothing personal against them at all, but Caligula had planned 
to kill Helena and Marcus this day. The two didn't know it, but they 
were kind of in the way of a small scheme he was working on which 
involved their parents. Just business as usual: another minor plot to 
advance himself and the greater glory Rome. However, how could he kill 
these two, now? This sexual beast Helena who had come to him in the 
form of a frightened woman-child and her brother Marcus whom he had 
taken the time to impart lessons to. The emperor decided he liked these 
two kids (for now anyway), and that he would retire to consider their 
fate further. He had their rich Equestrian parents, who were the actual 
focal point of his plan, anyway. These two were simply peripheral 
characters in his plot. Perhaps he would toy with them further. He 
turned his back upon them and left the room.

Drusilla watched her brother go. Then she crouched down besides Helena 
and kissed her full on the lips. Helena returned her kiss, her tongue, 
lips and face coated with Drusilla's sticky essence. Drusilla called 
for warm water and towels and began cleaning the young woman. "Sister, 
you have done well," she breathed into Helena's ear. "You have won back 
the lives of yourself and your brother this day."

Helena smiled. The warm golden glow which filled her had subsided, but 
she felt its presence within her breast where it could still be 
grasped. I am love and I am lust, she thought to herself. I am Venus. 
Her fear did not return. She curled up on the couch and fell asleep 
while Drusilla gently stroked her naked body and hair.

Chapter II

The emperor did not return to torture Helena and Marcus further that 
day. Drusilla spent the remainder of the afternoon watching over 
Helena, trying to soothe the young woman. Towards evening she had 
expert palace slaves bathe, massage and oil young Helena in the 
imperial baths. Drusilla paid little mind to Marcus, besides having him 
fed and having the massive black marble phallus extracted from his 
anus. She felt removing him from his shackles upon the black cross 
would be too much, and would raise the deadly ire of her brother, 
Caligula, the Emperor of Rome. A practical woman, Drusilla already 
considered Marcus a dead man. Caligula would tire of him soon, and 
Caligula had a tendency to kill things he found tiring. The survival of 
his sister, Helena, was of much greater interest to Drusilla.

Like Drusilla, Marcus only wished for Helena, his beloved sister, to 
survive this encounter with the emperor. He considered himself 
expendable to that end. He had no illusions that his life would 
probably end here, fastened upon this cross, and that his last service 
to the empire would be as a moments relished amusement for Caligula.

Cleaned, oiled and draped in a soft gown, Helena returned to the great 
room as night fell. She curled up on silky, multi-colored cushions at 
the foot of the black cross and fell asleep. In his uncomfortable 
position, Marcus found the road to sleep led him only to frustration. 
As the hours wore on he continued to observe the only interesting 
things in the room: the golden masked slaves. By the light of one torch 
he watched them come and go from the great room until their numbers 
eventually dwindled down to two on duty.

During the dead of night, Marcus watched as one golden masked slave 
returned to the great room, bringing the number in attendance back up 
to three. This newcomer approached one of the other slaves, a slave who 
had remained alert in the room for his golden masked comrade had dozed 
off. The newcomer produced a knife and ran the once alert slave through 
the heart once he got close enough. The newcomer then dispatched the 
sleeping slave as well.

Hardly a stranger to bloodshed, Marcus had seen the death of men in the 
arena, and then later in war and at executions for his entire life. For 
Marcus, the fact that one slave showed up and murdered two others 
provoked only his intrigue, not his distress. He wondered what vendetta 
this slave had with his fellows.

The attacker hid the corpses from view behind wall curtains. This task 
done, the knife wielding slave approached the black cross. His coming 
turned the situation into a personal matter for Marcus for he feared 
the homicidal slave meant to harm his sister Helena who slept at his 
feet. When the slave got close, Marcus made as if to call out an alarm.

The golden masked slave seemed to realize the trap of getting too close 
to the girl. He took a cautious step back, holding both hands palm up, 
to show he mean no threat. Then he spoke in a whisper.

"Marcus Tillius Paullus, I come to bring you away from here."

Marcus blinked. "Who...?" he stammered.

"Shhhh. No time for that. Someone feels they owe you a debt and would 
see that debt paid in full this night."

The slave then nodded his head and shoulders in a gesture which asked 
if he could approach.

Marcus nodded his permission.

The golden masked slave quickly untied and lowered the cross to ground 
level. Then he began unfastening the iron shackles around Marcus' 
limbs. The hard, muscled physique of the man wiped away the impression 
that this could be any of the weak, servile golden masked slaves Marcus 
had seen before. This man lived a warrior's life, either as a gladiator 
or legionnaire of Rome. However, Marcus could think of nobody who might 
believe they owed this kind of debt to him - to the point of sending an 
expert fighter to infiltrate the Roman imperial palace and dragging his 
ass out of the fire.

After releasing Marcus from bondage, the man spoke again.

"Follow closely, now. We make our escape through the sewers."

When the man began to go, Marcus made no effort to follow.

Sensing nobody behind him, the man turned around. "What's the problem?"

"She's my sister," whispered Marcus, indicating Helena.

The burly fighter looked at the girl. "She'll only slow us down."

"I can't leave her."

The man rolled his eyes behind the mask, then made a quick motion with 
his hands to hurry.

Marcus covered the mouth of his sister, lest she speak, and roused her 
to consciousness. When he breathed instructions into her ear, Helena 
immediately grasped the situation. She nodded and jumped up to follow 
her brother and the golden masked man.

They stayed to the shadows, padding like thieves through the opulent 
marble and stone halls of the palace. When they came to a small, 
misshapen store room where the sewers could be accessed, the golden 
masked man grabbed a torch and produced light for the next leg. Down 
they went into the underground, making good their escape through the 
Cloaca Maxima: the great sewer of Rome.

The man led them faithfully through the twists and turns of stinking 
gray water to freedom. Their flight ended as they emerged from the 
underground upon the banks of Rome's great trading waterway the Tiber 
river. Under a starry sky a darkened ship could be seen nearby, 
floating upon the inky blackness of the nighttime waters. The man in 
the golden mask waved his torch in a circle pattern. Soon, a lighted 
torch waved back a reply from the deck of the ship.

The masked man pointed at the ship. "This vessel will take you to 
safety." The man then turned to go.

"Wait," said Marcus. "I must know who my rescuer is, and why."

"I cannot reveal names, Capsarius, in case you are recaptured." The man 
had used the name of Marcus' military discipline: Capsarius, the medic. 
"All I can say is that once, at risk to your own life, you saved a 
dying soldier upon the field of battle. The man lived and now holds an 
influential position in Rome's Praetorian Guard. So, hearing your fate 
had turned sour, he decided to help. You saved his life. He, now, has 
saved yours. It is a debt paid. Gods watch over you, Capsarius. Go 
now."

The man left and Marcus questioned the fortune of his fate no further. 
His beloved sister Helena stood alive beside him, and for that reason 
alone Marcus considered he had received the better of the bargain twice 
over.

Marcus, still nude through his ordeal, washed his body in the chilly, 
moving waters of the Tiber river. Silently, Helena removed her tunic 
and waded into the river to do the same. Once they had washed the sweat 
and sewer from body, legs and feet, they ripped a swath of Helena's 
garment for Marcus to use as a loincloth. Then they boarded a skiff run 
aground on the bank and paddled to the ship.

As strong crewmen pulled them aboard the ship, Marcus noted the vessel 
rode low in the water. A merchant vessel laid in with cargo, he 
figured, bound for the open sea. Marcus was too exhausted to even care 
about the destination of the ship, as long as Rome lay behind them. 
Marcus saw his sister looked wide-eyed and awake, but she had hardly 
spoken a word. In under twenty-four hours her entire world had spun 
completely upside-down. She had gone from virgin and Equestrian, one of 
Rome's social elite with a promising future, to just a raped fugitive 
with nothing left but her life and the torn rag covering her body. All 
this because of the capricious will of the emperor of Rome. Marcus 
didn't even know how Helena's mind was holding up under this stress.

A man in a clean, full toga appeared before Marcus and offered a hearty 
handclasp in greeting. Marcus surmised this man owned or captained the 
vessel.

"Quite an ordeal you've enjoyed tonight, eh? I was only expecting one 
man, Capsarius. Who is the girl?"

"This is my sister, Helena. She is also a... refugee."

"Ah, well that's fine."

While the man tried to be discreet with his gaze, Marcus watched the 
man appraising Helena's physical beauty from brown hair to pink toes 
and didn't care for it.

"Come," said the man in the toga. "My name is Vargus and I have a place 
for you to rest."

The captain led them to a comfortable but tiny cabin. A wide pallet of 
soft bedding filled most of the space inside. A wooden platter with 
wine, bread and cheese lay invitingly upon one low table. A clean, 
white tunic hung from a wall peg. A single, long candle cast dim 
flickering yellow light in the space, providing the only illumination.

"Recover, now. We will speak more tomorrow," Vargus said. He closed the 
hatch behind him and left the siblings to themselves.

Marcus sat down heavily upon the plush bed. Helena immediately 
collapsed next to him and crushed herself against her brother. Her arms 
circled his waist and she buried her face into his chest. Then she 
began to cry. She cried in great gulping sobs as waves of despair 
wracked her body. Tears flooded like a river undammed from of her eyes 
and snot dripped from her nose. The life she woke up to just that 
morning, everything good she believed for her future, it vanished from 
view quick as silver put in the palm of a Roman beggar. This new, 
uncertain future terrified her. She hardly understood the world which 
lay outside the walls of Rome. All of the fear and humiliation she had 
experienced this day came rushing back to her on a churning tide which 
engulfed her and threatened to drown her. It was all too much to bear. 
Too much.

Marcus stroked his sister's hair and held her tight. The realities of 
their situation raced through his mind. They might be hunted, they had 
no money and there were no lines of communication to their parents. 
Where could they go and what could they do to survive? Marcus had drawn 
assignments to a few spots along the Roman dominated Mediterranean sea 
while in the army. There existed places they could settle for a short 
time and blend in: Greece and perhaps Gaul. If a sincere pursuit 
developed, they could go as far as Germania or the island of Britannia. 
It really all depended upon the heading of this ship. Unable to deal 
with it in his exhaustion, he turned off his brain and held his sister 
tight, losing himself in the warmth of her touch and wetness of her 
tears. He stroked her and caressed her and whispered soothing things to 
try and ease her pain.

Slowly, Helena's adrenaline level from the escape eased away, and her 
emotional turmoil began to ebb. After a time, Helena began to calm and 
her crying quieted. She remembered something of the day's events, then. 
She remembered Caligula taunting Marcus as he hung from the black 
cross. Yes, the emperor had demanded something of Marcus and Marcus had 
said that he loved Helena. Loved her not as a sister, but as a woman. 
Marcus had said that he wanted her, desired her and had always felt 
this way. And, Helena recalled, he said he suffered under a curse to 
always desire his dear sister but never have her.

She became aware of the soothing touch her brother provided. Only 
nineteen and such a credit to his family. Brave warrior, dutiful son 
and always a caring brother. Now, at last, she understood why he did 
not often appear in the company of other women - a mystery she had thus 
far failed to unravel. It was because of her. Marcus loved her with a 
passion beyond that of brother and sister. Helena would have felt 
honored by this incestuous revelation at any point in her life, but 
would have responded in Rome by trying to break Marcus of these 
fixations for his own good. Now, however, no longer towing the line of 
society, lost amid chaos, depending upon Marcus to teach her how to 
survive outside of Rome, she acted abruptly upon her memory of his 
guilty admission.

She reached up and grabbed his face, pressing her warm lips to his. 
Helena pulled away leaving Marcus with a dimly startled expression 
gracing his features.

"Do you love me, Marcus?" She spoke in a husky whisper.

"Of course I..."

"No."

She pressed her lips to his again. Harder this time. Marcus tasted the 
salt of her tears upon his tongue.

Again she pulled back. "Do... you... love... me?"

Marcus' eyes grew wide and a bit confused under the scrutiny of 
Helena's intense, probing gaze. A gaze completely at odds with the 
girlish sniffles and tears she was still trying to deal with. Marcus 
assumed the sudden blue passion of his sister was rooted in her need to 
be comforted and protected during a difficult time. He cradled her like 
a child.

Helena deduced her brother still failed to grasp her meaning and felt a 
twinge of anger. Helena pushed herself into him hard, the weight 
toppling Marcus backwards, lying him flat on the soft bedding. She took 
position above him, grinding her breasts into his chest and kissing his 
lips with violence, showing him exactly what she meant. When her full, 
red lips came near his ear she spoke again.

"Marcus, do you love me? You told him you loved me. You said that you 
wanted me."

And suddenly he reciprocated. He wrapped his arms around her slender 
frame and returned his sister's passionate, wanton kisses. Words he 
meant to speak dissolved as speech gave way to touch and all 
inhibitions melted under the heat of their racing blood and twisting 
tongues. Marcus pulled Helena's ruined tunic from her and removed the 
scrap of cloth from his own waist. Both nude, they got under the soft 
covers and looked into each other's eyes.

"Helena... why?" Whispered Marcus.

"Marcus, just... love me." She kissed him softly.

Helena didn't know exactly why. Maybe because if she didn't do 
something she would sink into a catatonic depression or rave like a 
madwoman. Maybe because she wanted to thank Marcus for his good fortune 
which saved them. Perhaps it was because she loved her older brother 
and thought him courageous and handsome. Most likely a combination of 
all those reasons.

They spent what seemed a blissful eternity of mutual exploration. When 
Marcus took one of his sister's pretty nipples into his mouth and 
suckled, Helena gasped at the pleasure, feeling an arc of white 
lightning from breast to cunt. She held his head to her and kissed his 
fingers and stroked his back. Soon she took away the taut nipple and 
offered her other breast for attention. Then, after a time, gave him 
the first nipple back again and pinched the other breast herself. When 
Marcus had spent ample time relishing the firm, proud swells of her 
chest, she laid him down and tried to produce the same sensation in 
him. He sighed in pleasure, brushing her long hair with his fingers as 
she licked, sucked and pinched upon his reddish-brown nipples.

While engaged in sucking his nipples, Helena slowly roved a free hand 
down his abdomen to take a grip upon his rigid man's sex. She had known 
what they looked like practically since birth: the symbol of the penis 
enjoyed great reverence in Roman culture. Until now, however, she had 
never laid hands on a live one. She felt its warmth and the way it 
pulsed like a thing possessed. She wanted to inspect it further. She 
retreated under the dark covers and curled up next to it.

With one hand still gripping the shaft, she rubbed the silky black fur 
at the base. Then she slid her hand around to feel the scrotum 
underneath. Cupping her brother's undersack, it surprised her to 
discover what a giving, squeezable thing it was. In carved stone and 
marble sculpture it exhibited a firm shape, so she had expected it to 
be solid. She discovered the twin, hard ovals inside the leathery skin 
and felt their smooth almond shape between thumb and fingers. Her 
brother yelped when she squeezed one too hard. On impulse she bent her 
head down and tasted the skin. Finding the taste fairly neutral, she 
sucked skin and one of the hard almonds into her warm mouth. With a 
sharp intake of breath, Marcus' body went rigid. She sucked and rolled 
the structure around between roof of mouth and tongue. When she let it 
go, Marcus released his breath in a rush and petted her head. She took 
that as a good sign.

Emboldened, she licked around the shaft of the cock and up to the head. 
She flicked her tongue across the hole at top. Hardly her intention to 
excite Marcus, Helena simply wished to explore his manhood. The male 
sex organ was a common and powerful symbol in her culture, and Helena 
experienced a certain fascination to poke around on one. Still, she 
could tell that this exploration of hers was pleasurable to Marcus. 
Despite this, it never for once occurred to her that these actions of 
hand and mouth upon his sex could be used to produce an orgasm in 
Marcus. Roman society ingrained into her that a Roman male must 
dominate and penetrate to achieve his sexual satisfaction. She assumed 
Marcus would need to penetrate her body to be relieved.

Having satisfied her curiosity, she emerged from the covers on top of 
him. They smiled at one another in the candlelight and then held each 
other close. They spent a time just enjoying the press of their bodies 
together, feeling the rocking of the ship and listening to the creak of 
mast and hull.

Helena fetched wine from the table and drank, then offered refreshment 
to her brother. Both famished, they sat up and devoured the hard, brown 
bread, red cheese and remaining wine that sat waiting on the tray for 
them. When only crumbs remained, they snuggled back under the covers 
and kissed again. Kissing led to deep kissing, suckles and little 
bites. Their earlier passion soon rose to a new peak of sensuality as 
their hands rubbed over each others chest, hips, thighs and inner 
regions.

Helena could feel her brother's strained cock throbbing out its demand 
for attention. She grasped it in one slender fist and squeezed at it. 
Marcus could feel the warm dampness between his sister's thighs. He 
began to rhythmically rub and massage her fur covered mound.

Inside her body Helena felt something she had felt earlier that day. 
That spreading glow outward of warm energy. Suddenly she stopped 
everything and went stock still besides Marcus.

"Helena, what...?"

"Shhhh," she silenced him.

Helena's eyes unfocused as she bent her attention to following this 
feeling of molten warm which seeped from her chest outward through her 
limbs. Forming in her brain, sparkling in her mind's eye, the gold 
light again returned to claim her. She had experienced this same thing 
after she had prayed so fervently to Venus that afternoon. She wondered 
if this could be some form of insanity which throttled her brain.

She wanted to stop, get a grip on herself and think about this, but she 
could not. The keen sensation of her brother's firm flesh pressing 
against her, the pulsing of the cock she held in her hand; these things 
conspired for her attention. Her heart pounded with excitement and the 
dribbling hole between her legs ached to be filled. Her skin grew hot 
and her lips grew thirsty for fresh kisses. All Helena's attention 
focused with feral clarity upon the man next to her: his deep breath, 
rough touch and musky smell. She pushed him over and moved onto his 
chest, taking a dominant position. She turned and looked down upon him. 
Her long hair fell, framing one side of his strong face, and the candle 
light danced shadows upon the other. She found his big brown eyes, gone 
all tender with concern, incited her animal lust.

"Helena, maybe we..."

She kissed him with vehemence to shut him up. She rubbed her pelvis and 
chest against his hard muscles anew. There was nothing she could do. 
The energy within, the heat of her skin and the golden passion fogging 
her mind left her no alternative. She would take this man for her own.

Monstrous passion, long bottled inside of Marcus, now flowed through 
him in a torrential, red rush. Awakened by the actualization of his 
long hidden and forbidden love for his younger sister, his passion was 
like a caged beast released at last and it hungered for Helena. Marcus 
wished to enslave and worship his young sister at the same time. He 
would do anything for her and wished to do everything to her.

As their violent necking escalated, Marcus could take no more. With a 
well executed roll he turned the tables on his sister, forcing her onto 
her back with him on top. He spread her flushed thighs, grabbed his 
cock with his own hand and sought Helena's warm opening. Helena spread 
her legs wider and put both hands upon his shoulders. The hum of golden 
light in her mind made it hard to think - she could only be, 
experiencing the moment and the pleasure of each touch. Her nerves were 
on fire, her mind was on fire and when her brother mounted her, her 
cunt was on fire. Painful fire.

"No! No Marcus, no!"

She began clawing at his chest and squirming upwards on the bedding, 
trying to get away and get that thing out of her body. She escaped to 
the opposite end of the pallet and sat with both hands protectively 
covering her crotch. She looked at her brother with big, confused eyes. 
He looked back at her with big, equally confused and frustrated eyes.

"It's sore," she said. "It hurts."

Marcus nodded with understanding. The emperor had viscously busted his 
sister's cherry that afternoon with the same gentle touch a battering 
ram would gives to the walls of an enemy. Marcus accepted that Helena 
must heal.

Marcus forcibly beat down his lust like a man with a stick trying to 
beat a half-ton grizzly back into a cave. It wasn't easy but he 
managed. Marcus slowly crawled over to his sister and curled up next to 
her. Tenderly embracing her, he kissing her and tried to reassure her 
that everything was fine.

But everything wasn't fine. That damnable hot golden something 
pressured Helena inside, demanding something of her. She could hardly 
think through the light blinding her mind. She was insensible, feeling 
only turbulent emotions and now the warm press of man-flesh against her 
burning skin. This man who she wanted nothing more than to fuck tried 
to talk her down from her gripping desire, telling her that everything 
was all right. But it wasn't all right.

Helena felt a wonderful sensuality from her crotch. Without realizing 
it, the index finger of one hand which cupped her mound so 
protectively, had begun to rub circles around her clit. The spirit 
which possessed her demanded tribute and that tribute was her pleasure.

"Oh Marcus, Marcus... please..." she whined plaintively.

"What do you want me to do?"

She had a sudden revelation. She untangled his embrace and got before 
him down on all fours.

"Take me like a boy," she demanded.

"Uh...?" Marcus was very surprised.

"Marcus, please. Take me like a boy."

Marcus had never actually had sex with a boy, though it fell perfectly 
within his right as a Roman male to do so. He understood the mechanics 
of it, though. Marcus took copious lubricants which dripped freely from 
Helena's mound and down the hot skin of her inside thighs. He greased 
her scarlet asshole with them and then used spit and more lubricants to 
make his cock as slippery as possible. Thus prepared, he slowly tried 
to push the purple head of his shaft into her.

Helena pulled her round butt cheeks apart and tried to relax as much as 
possible to help him. "Oh merciful Goddess," she thought to herself. 
"What a wicked sensation."

Marcus pushed hard, filling her intestine with his cock. Helena 
breathed in gasps. She felt as though she were using the toilet and a 
wondrous sensuality competed with a dull pain in her rectum. It was 
insanely pleasurable. Sheathed to the balls in her tight, smoldering 
tunnel, he encircled her with his arms, kissing and sucking the soft 
skin of her back and neck from behind as he pressed himself against 
her. And thus he stayed, trying to be gentle and waiting for a response 
before moving his hips.

Helena's emotions swirled in such an intense jumble of longing, desire, 
excitement and passion that she did not know how to cope at first. As 
she sorted through the whipping storm of feelings inside her, she 
became aware that not all the emotions she felt were her own. She was 
experiencing the emotions of someone else: her lover and brother 
Marcus. Helena could feel everything her brother Marcus felt, and 
understanding this truth both exhilarated and terrified her. She could 
literally feel the lust which Marcus himself was feeling for her young 
body. She could feel all the love he felt within his own heart for her. 
Helena found she could grasp his love with her mental hands and feel 
it, poke at it and weigh it to see how much love was really there. And 
it was big love. It was towering and it was thunderous and it was all 
for her, and had always been just for her. She was intoxicated by it 
and overpowered. She needed more of him inside of her. She wanted to 
devour him.

"Now. Now, please," she breathed. Her hand flew to her clit.

Marcus grunted in animal pleasure and fucked his sister's asshole. She 
was incredibly tight and it made moving in and out of her a real 
effort. But the finality of having the woman he had dreamed about for 
so long made up for the overly constricting nature of his pleasure. 
Marcus ran his hands over the smooth skin of her back and buttocks, 
feeling the stretching bumps of her spine and straining muscles. He 
breathed deep, savoring the scent of Helena's sex and the spice of 
feminine perfume still clinging to her from the imperial baths. Marcus 
gripped Helena's long hair in one hand and followed her hidden arm down 
to where her slender fingers stimulated her own damp sex.

Helena began to buck against the hard invader she held lovingly in the 
hot flesh of her rectum. She moaned and groaned in ecstasy, driven 
insensible beyond thought and reason. She came in shuddering waves, her 
ass contracting in spasms upon her brother's cock as her soaking 
fingers danced wild patterns across her clit. She cupped her mound when 
she could stand no further direct stimulation to her clitoris.

She listened to her brother panting the litany of words he had held 
locked in his soul for so long. .".. I've waited so long. Loved you so 
long... So beautiful... So good... Oh, Helena..." But it mattered not 
to Helena for she could feel the root emotions in Marcus which inspired 
the words.

She felt her brother building towards orgasm through the strange 
conduit which delivered his feelings to her. When he came, flooding her 
intestine with warm milky seed, she experienced within herself every 
sensation of his pleasure. She felt the contraction of testes and the 
hot bubbling rush of semen jerking through his cock in pounding waves 
of pleasure. She felt the entire trip of the frothing juice as she 
pulled it from the pit of his balls into her own intestine. She came 
again, her body shaken and pummeled by fast hammering thuds of bliss as 
she experienced the feeling of his orgasm and her own. Her legs gave 
out from under her and she fell sprawled upon the soft covers face down 
on her stomach. Marcus fell on top of her, still buried in her ass, 
gasping and spent.

"Gods Helena. Oh."

The young siblings curled up together in the spoon position and soon 
fell into a deep, welcome slumber.

The next day Marcus donned the clean, off-white tunic provided with the 
cabin and went to find the captain of the vessel, Vargus. He paused in 
the sunlight, breathing the fresh salty air of the Mediterranean and 
admiring the deep blue sea. The strong, mostly naked hands of the crew 
put their backs into maintaining and guiding the loaded vessel under a 
favorable wind. The main sail, the "velum", a massive square of white 
hemp cloth, strained and rippled as it captured the gusty Mediterranean 
breeze, propelling them across the water. Marcus made the freighter out 
to be some 500 tons: an unremarkable and smallish trading vessel like 
so many that plied the waterways of the Roman empire.

As he mused and enjoyed the ocean, he felt a firm hand grip his 
shoulder from behind.

"Capsarius!" said Vargus with good cheer. "A fine day to you. Did you 
sleep well last night?"

Marcus thought to himself that he had never slept better. However, the 
waking day had brought with it the dire memory of the problems he and 
his sister must face.

"I slept most fairly. Thank you for your hospitality, Vargus," said 
Marcus with strong and equal cheer. Marcus knew it would be unwise to 
advertise his concern or weakness. Weakness was a trait very few Romans 
ever developed a taste for, and sympathy was hardly nurtured by the 
society.

Marcus noted Vargus stood clear-eyed, erect and firm of jaw, a captain 
and business man used to quick obedience in others. He wore a full 
toga, bleached bone white at tunic and draped with a fine, well hung 
red wrap. He was an older man, perhaps twice Marcus' own age, sporting 
the weathered look of sun and sea carved into his mariners face. Marcus 
tried to emulate the older man's stance so he would not appear 
disadvantaged or servile.

"Good," said Vargus. "Well, there's no hospitality here. Your fare on 
this voyage has been paid for, Capsarius, so rest at ease you owe no 
debt. It's no luxury ship but the cabin is yours 'til we reach the 
Nile."

That answered Marcus' main question, anyway: the direction of this 
ship.

"Egypt," muttered Marcus.

"Aye. The land of the Pharaohs. Ever been there?"

"No," replied Marcus. And he wasn't pleased to be going there for his 
first time, now. Marcus wanted to hit the ground running in a familiar 
area; someplace where adaptability wouldn't need to be purchased along 
a learning curve. Marcus favored Greece as the number one choice in his 
mental list of destinations. "Where do you head after Egypt?"

"We'll drop this load of oil and leather then take on yellow Egyptian 
corn. Then it's back to the city with us. Keeping the people of Rome 
fed makes for a profitable trade."

Well, that was no good: he wasn't going back to Rome. Egypt it was, 
then. Marcus had heard stories of the great desert civilization for all 
of his life. He had fully expected to view its wonders someday, but not 
as a fugitive. He had always assumed he would travel there with the 
legions, for it was a Roman territory, now. Some forty years in the 
past, after the death of Cleopatra and Mark Antony, the mighty Augustus 
Caesar had assimilated Egypt into the Roman empire. Since then, whoever 
sat upon the throne of Rome also had to style himself as the pharaoh of 
Egypt just to keep up appearances for the desert people. It was a Roman 
territory and it would have all the earmarks of Roman occupancy, but it 
was also a wildly exotic land with people and customs much different 
from his own. The half-remembered barracks tales of soldiers provided 
his only link into the daily life of Egyptian culture. Money would 
greatly help his and Helena's chances, but they had none.

"I have this to give you," said Vargus, pulling a slip of folded 
parchment out of his tunic.

Marcus took the letter from the captain and inspected it. It was sealed 
shut by a smooth, unmarked blob of red wax. Marcus looked suspiciously 
into Vargus' face and did not open it. Vargus had fully expected this 
reaction. In Rome it was customary for a man to press the mark of their 
signet ring into the hot wax of a letter, thereby identifying the 
sender. Unmarked, anonymous seals met with some mistrust as the 
harbingers of gossip and secrets.

"It's how it arrived. Unmarked, ported by messenger slave." Vargus 
shrugged. "That's all I know. I have matters to take care of, 
Capsarius, and I will have food sent to you. If this wind holds, we'll 
reach Egypt in two weeks. I have a job for you on this voyage, if 
you'll take it. I have one man injured and one sick who could use your 
skills as a healer. They'll be a bit of coin in it for you."

Marcus nodded. "Done."

"Good. A man will come round for you a later." Vargus nodded and walked 
off.

Well, having a job available was good fortune, anyway, thought Marcus. 
As to the letter, doubtless it came from his savior at the palace, who 
wished to remain unknown.

Marcus returned to the cabin where he found his sister awake, curled up 
warm and contented under covers. She looked at him with bright, alert 
eyes from her refuge of blankets and Marcus smiled affectionately at 
her. Before he could follow his natural desire to get close once more 
to her lips, skin and warmth, a knock came at the cabin door. A slave 
dressed only in a dirty-gray rag tied to waist came bearing food and 
drink for the siblings, and a clean cream colored chiton for the female 
to wear. Helena began to eat as Marcus opened and read the letter.

Helena munched contentedly on hard bread and morning wine when she 
heard her brother gasp in what sounded like pain.

"Marcus, what is it?"

She saw his eyes mist over with the first dew of tears.

"Marcus, what?" she shook him.

"It's..." He gasped and two perfect tears fell. "Helena it says our 
parents are dead."

Helena sat still for several moments trying to process that. When she 
couldn't she grabbed the slip of brownish parchment from his grasp and 
began to read. In a few terse sentences of scribbled black ink it told 
the story of just how lost and alone in the world Helena and Marcus had 
become... 

Within the first year of his reign, the emperor, Caligula, had managed 
to almost bankrupt the imperial treasury with his extravagance. In an 
effort to bring money in, Caligula had hit upon the brilliant plan of 
accusing certain wealthy families of treason and securing their assets 
over their dead bodies. Her parents had fallen prey to the scheme.

"No," she said. "No. No." She grabbed her brother and forcibly spun him 
to face her. "No, Marcus. It's a lie. It's a lie!"

His sorrowful eyes said it was the truth. Helena's face froze in a 
sculptured mask of dawning understanding. Her stomach grew nauseous, 
her heart dropped out of her chest and her lungs wanted to cry but 
could not because there was not a breath left in her body. When her 
head suddenly hit the cushions of the pallet, she choked in a breath of 
air and convulsed with the terrible pain of grief and loss which 
consumed her. Her family was gone. Her world was gone. Everything was 
gone. She began to cry with the bleating hopelessness of a lost lamb 
who senses the predators closing nearby.

Marcus offered no comfort. He had none to give even to himself. When 
another knock came at the door, Marcus got up and began to leave.

"Helena, I told them I would work," he said.

Then he left. Helena had hardly heard him.

The days passed and Helena and Marcus found strength together, trying 
to recover from their deep emotional wounds. The fifteen-year old and 
nineteen-year old slept tightly curled around one another other each 
night, as though they feared if one let go the other would disappear. 
They touched and kissed and made love frequently; their wound-up young 
bodies releasing pressure as they fucked each other to exhaustion. Each 
time they did it that bizarre sexual energy returned to claim Helena. 
She began to wonder if the feeling was simply a basic female quality 
like menstruation. Something her mother had just never gotten around to 
telling her about. She resolved to ask another woman about it some day.

Upon the seventh night at sea, Helena was sleeping deeply in the arms 
of her lover when she was startled awake by a sudden rush of 
adrenaline. She sat bolt upright in the darkness, the hair on the back 
of her neck rising. Helena realized immediately that a stranger had 
entered their cabin.

Marcus began to wake in response to the sudden movements. "Helena, 
wha..."

Then the cabin's one candle sprang to life and cast its wan yellow 
light through the cabin.

The figure standing in the cabin with them waved a hand and Marcus fell 
immediately asleep once more.

The mysterious figure was a woman so beautiful it almost hurt Helena's 
eyes to view her. She was dressed in a fine, shimmering tunic of 
lavender trimmed in blue. It was almost transparent, covering her, yet 
showing the entire form of her body. Her large, perfectly round breasts 
achieved a natural lift and pert set which was rare in a woman with 
such a full chest. Her abdomen was soft and her hips flared, giving her 
the hourglass shape that artists and sculptors hungered for in a model. 
Her short tunic ended well above the knees, so there was no obstruction 
as Helena used her eyes to trace a line down the delicious form of the 
woman's legs. The features of the woman's face were exquisite and 
unmatched in nature, seeming the very template from which all earthly 
feminine beauty sprung. Silky, pale yellow hair framed that face, 
tumbling in waves and ringlets past her long, slender neck to rest with 
buoyancy upon her shoulders. The woman fixed upon Helena with clear, 
unnaturally bright eyes.

"Merciful Goddess," breathed Helena, trying her best now to grovel. 
"G... G... Goddess..."

The woman spoke in a clear, high voice. "Greetings Helena Paullus. I... 
Please, Helena, stop that."

"Goddess Venus," said Helena in a shaky voice as she knelt on the 
pallet in the lowest, most servile position she could manage.

"Yes Helena. Goddess Venus. I have come to make words with you child, 
not to frighten you."

Venus sat down on the bedding next to Helena. Helena reached out a 
tentative hand and touched the goddess' bare leg. The skin was soft as 
the brush of a feather, supple as the body of a newborn and flawlessly 
clear. It seemed to radiate its own light.

"I am real," said Venus with humor.

An unexpected, sudden and total desire to lick, touch, feel and fuck 
the goddess slammed through Helena's body. The golden glow had taken 
complete possession of her entire being within the span of two 
heartbeats. She felt an uncontrollable frenzy of lust and she tried to 
bury her face between the goddess' graceful pair of legs.

"Whoa, tiger," said Venus, delicately extracting the young woman.

Venus laid a palm on Helena's chest just above the swell of her 
breasts. The unbridled passion left Helena, receding to the spark which 
seemed to stay in her chest.

"Grrrr," said the goddess, playfully barring her teeth at Helena. Then 
she laughed. It sounded like the music of chimes on a summer wind. 
"It's my closeness to you which does it," she explained. "The beast 
inside you responds to me."

Looking into the face of the Roman goddess of love, sex, beauty and 
bounty; Helena found her own natural desire to be sexual with the 
goddess was still very, very strong. Helena was completely overcome. 
She had always worshipped Venus and now that she found herself sitting 
next to her, Helena's infatuation for the goddess erupted and went 
supernova, a burning white hot fire within her.

"I am sorry, Helena but I doubt you would survive if we made love. 
Mortals break too easily. Hearts stop and organs burst under the fury 
of my passion. I always break my toys." She seemed to pout. "Besides, 
on the off chance you lived, no mortal would ever satisfy you again."

Helena realized she would do anything to become a toy of Venus. She 
would fight wild beasts in the arena until ripped and bruised violet. 
She would leave a bloody trail of red behind her as she crawled through 
a mile of razors. She would let blackbirds peck out her eyes so she 
could no longer admire the goddess but just to be with her. Anything. 
She would do anything to be near this creature. She would gladly die if 
she could worship the body of Venus with hand, heart and tongue before 
doing so.

"That's sweet of you to think," said Venus. She kissed Helena on the 
mouth.

The effect was immediate: Helena came in joyous ripples. Her hips 
jerked with the pleasure.

"Responsive little thing, aren't you?"

Venus stroked the young woman's hair until the orgasm passed. Then she 
spoke again in earnest.

"I have taken an interest in you, Helena."

Helena was attempting to grovel again.

"Helena, please. Come here, child."

The goddess enfolded Helena in her arms and laid the girl's head upon 
her breast. Helena experienced a blissful comfort she wanted to never 
end.

"Helena, you have always been a fine disciple. You have kept me in your 
heart and called to no gods of Rome before me. Your prayers always 
plentiful, your offerings always sincere, you have always appeased your 
goddess, yet never asked anything of me. Not until that dreadful matter 
at the palace, anyway."

Helena nuzzled her nose through the goddess' silky tunic, delighting in 
the fresh, flowery aroma of Venus' skin. Helena parted the garment 
Venus wore, exposing a warm and wonderful breast. Helena took one 
perfect, pink, immortal and divine nipple into her mouth.

"Dear, you are tempting my lust."

Helena didn't care. The skin tasted clean and pure as spring water with 
a hint of sweet strawberries laced in. She suckled with abandon.

Venus took Helena's head in both hands and turned the girl to face her. 
The young woman's sucking mouth was disengaged from the nipple with an 
audible pop. Helena was instantly transfixed by the deep, gold-flecked 
brown eyes of Venus.

"Helena, I have given you a gift. A tiny sliver of my being rests 
inside you. I gave it to you in the palace when you prayed so 
desperately for my help. When I returned to retrieve it, I found you 
had flown. Now I find you here, a homeless fugitive on this creaky tub 
heading for Egypt. You are an interesting case, child. A wealthy noble, 
now a pauper. A girl with nothing who faces bravely an uncertain 
future. A beautiful virgin, now using her body to comfort what family 
remains to her. Your story intrigues me as does the understanding you 
have for the nature of your goddess."

"You are love and you are lust," replied Helena.

"Yes, Helena. I am the mother of bounty out on the farm and the slutty 
whore in the alley of Rome. I am the pure vestal virgin who remains 
untouched and the wife in the bed of every man. Not everyone prays to 
all of my aspects, but you seem to understand me as well as some of my 
priestesses."

A dazzling, white smile lit up the extraordinary beauty of Venus' face. 
Helena shivered in pleasure.

"So, Helena Paullus, I have decided you will keep my gift and you will 
be my little hero."

"Hero?"

"Yes, like Perseus or Jason or any of those other god-gifted overblown 
stud-muffins. I mean, here I am, one of the most worshipped deities in 
Rome, and I don't even have my own hero."

"Hero?"

"Yes. Except you won't have to fight monsters or anything like that."

"Goddess, what is this game you would play with me? My parents are dead 
and my life means nothing." Helena's eyes began to tear. "Please take 
me with you! Enslave me. Take my pain away and just fuck me until I 
die." Helena tried to get back to sucking on the nipple.

"Dear heart, do not be selfish. Your brother is just as lost and alone 
as you. He needs you, now. Perhaps when you are done heroing I will 
love you as you wish." The goddess stood up. "Here are some things you 
should know. You are carrying near your heart a piece of me. It gives 
you a power and sensitivity of love and sex that you have already 
experienced. You can feel the emotions of others, and become very 
sensitive to physical pleasure and pain. Others will find you sexier to 
look at. Men will desire you. Women will either desire you or envy you. 
You cannot get pregnant. Animals will feel docile and unthreatened by 
you. There are other things I'm sure you'll discover if you need to. I 
am connected to you in this way, so it is good for me. It gets me 
closer to the Mortal Experience. Do good heroing for me, child."

The goddess turned as if to depart.

"But... but... what must I do, goddess?"

"Why, you must Love. And you must Lust. That's quite a bit of heroing, 
I know. Harder than fighting some stupid minotaur for five minutes. 
Good luck, child."

"But... but..."

She vanished, leaving Helena alone with a lit candle and the sound of 
her brother's breathing.

Helena had very little to practice heroing upon, so she turned all her 
attention towards her brother. She played out a spectrum of feminine 
archetypes upon Marcus, filling whatever need arose within his male 
heart. She was mother to him, and daughter as well. She was confidant 
and friend. She was loving sister and loving wife. She was coy damsel 
and wicked fuck slut. She was every thing he needed her to be, shifting 
roles as she read his emotional state. She hoped Venus would be pleased 
with her. She didn't really know what the goddess expected, but for 
this one man, she tried, and very much succeeded, in becoming 
everything.

The night before they expected to reach the Egyptian coast, both 
siblings were quite nervous. They kissed and petted trying to forget 
the worries of tomorrow. Helena was particularly wound-up and she ached 
inside for full, blissful release. She remembered how Drusilla had 
pleased her as a woman and how wonderful it felt. How wonderful it 
would be... 

As Marcus parted her thighs and made to enter her, she put both hands 
on his chest.

"No," she said.

He stopped for a moment, trying to figure the meaning of her word. It 
didn't register, and Marcus made to continue.

"No," she said.

He looked at her quizzically. "Are you sore?"

"No."

"Uh... Well, what is it?"

Helena had figured out that penetration of her body was not required 
for Marcus to cum. Only stimulation was needed, though his Roman male 
mind would tell him otherwise. Her man required some re-education.

She pushed hard on his chest and forced him onto his back. Then she 
kissed his lips and moved down his body until his erect cock was before 
her. She grabbed it boldly and took the head into her mouth. She began 
rhythmically moving up and down the shaft, turning her mouth into a hot 
sucking cunt. The result was what she has anticipated: Marcus closed 
his eyes, groaning in pleasure under her touch. She tuned-in to him, 
feeling his pleasure as if it were her own. She felt him wanting to go 
deeper, to fuck her face and feel more of the shaft disappear between 
her pretty lips. She obliged to the best of her ability and began 
fondling and squeezing his testes. On impulse, she dipped one finger 
into her wet cunt to lubricate it, then pushed the finger into his ass. 
Marcus went stiff with the unexpected intrusion, then gasped in 
pleasure. He bucked harder and faster, almost gagging his sister with 
his thrusts.

When the sack drew up towards his body, she followed it with her hand. 
She felt him building to eruption, felt the large almonds in his sack 
begin to pulse, felt his orgasm in her diaphragm as if it were her own 
and tasted the sticky, salty-sweet cum when it sprayed into her mouth. 
She sucked the warm load through his shaft, draining him as he jerked 
in her mouth. She swished the white liquid over her pallet then let it 
slide down her throat.

He lay still and relaxed. She extracted her finger and washed it with 
wine.

"Did you like that?" she asked.

"It was wonderful. Thank you."

"Good."

Helena grabbed his arms and pulled him into a sitting position. Then 
she leaned sitting back before him and spread her legs. She looked at 
him with half-lidded eyes. The message was clear.

An expression of doom came over Marcus' face, as though hearing orders 
to make a suicide charge against a stronger enemy.

"Uh... we don't..." mumbled Marcus, glancing furtively at Helena's 
face, then down to the triangle of fur between her legs.

Helena cocked an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly, waiting for the 
explanation. It was all the warning he needed.

"I... I love you, Helena," he said with resignation.

"I know, dear. Now come lick your sister's cunt."

Marcus knelt on all fours before her. Helena grabbed his face with both 
hands and pulled it to her crotch. Marcus spent some time licking 
around the outside lips before he worked up the courage to dip into her 
furrow. He traced a line up and down it using the point of his tongue 
and then sought out her hole. She moved her pelvis to give him more 
access as he began thrusting his tongue in and out of her.

It felt nice. Just nice. After a while it got old. Helena realized that 
this was the action her brother thought she expected.

She grabbed his head again and removed him from herself.

"Marcus, look." She spread open her swollen, red outer lips so he could 
see every inch of her inside. She pointed to the bump at the top of her 
cleft. "Here, darling. Right here. Try."

He gingerly ran his tongue over the area, finding the bump.

"Yes. Right there."

Helena laid back again to enjoy his touch. Suddenly, he laid into her 
clit with the full power of his tongue. Pain ran a tight race with 
pleasure for her attention and she involuntarily jerked her hips. Then 
he pulled the entire clitoris and a fair amount of skin into his mouth 
and began slobber sucking her with the enthusiasm of a rabid dog. Pain 
easily pulled ahead for the win. Helena reached forward like a striking 
snake and grabbed one of his testicles in her hand. She squeezed. He 
yelped, letting go of her.

"That's what you're doing to me."

"I'm trying..."

"Try again, lover." She petted his head between her thighs. "Be 
gentle."

Helena kept a tight hold on his testicle, squeezing when he did 
something wrong. She directed him, teaching him how to please her. When 
he found a good rhythm she enjoyed, she let go and leaned back in 
sensuous abandon.

Marcus was rather humiliated that his younger sister was leading him by 
the nose through this. When she leaned back he took the initiative and 
inserted two fingers into her wet tunnel. He was happy when she 
responded favorably, gripping the fingers with her cunt muscles and 
trying to fuck them. He changed out his tongue rhythm but did not 
change the pressure. He was delighted that soon she was going wild 
beneath him. He enjoyed how much pleasure he could offer his sister in 
this way. Resting his head on her pelvis, he balanced and used his free 
hand to pinch one of her nipples. She went over the edge, moaning and 
contracting her cunt around his fingers as she came. Before she 
finished, as the waves still hit, he had clambered over her and stuffed 
his cock into her. He began pumping her tight, lubed hole violently, 
thrusting to the hilt. He wouldn't last like that, but it didn't 
matter.

"Goddess, goddess, goddess..." she whimpered in ecstasy.

Helena never stopped cumming. Her brother's swift, hard fuck kept the 
waves of pleasure mounting. Everything was golden. She loved him so 
much for this.

As the orgasm ended, she felt his spasming cock washing her insides 
white. She grabbed him, kissing him deep, swirling and sucking his 
tongue.

Helena decided she enjoyed heroing thus far. However, she opted to 
reserve further judgment until she and Marcus had walked a day in 
Egypt.


Chapter III

Vargus checked the position of the sun. He figured to make dock in 
Egypt's robust capitol of Alexandria by mid-morning. Staring across the 
sea at the approaching Egyptian coast, shining like molten gold upon 
the horizon in the early morning light, Vargus pondered the fate of his 
two fugitive passengers, Marcus and Helena. 

Vargus was, above all, a business man. A man whose morals of 
convenience drifted like a jellyfish upon the tide. Things would have 
been simple if the young man, Marcus, had arrived alone for this voyage 
as per the original plan. But the unexpected arrival of Marcus' sister 
Helena upon his deck complicated the situation for Vargus. This girl 
Helena appeared possessed of some feminine magnetism which naturally 
drew the eye of a male to her. Vargus' nose for opportunity easily 
smelt the heady aroma of profit emanating from her tender flesh. The 
Helena wench would certainly capture a fine price if auctioned upon the 
slaving block. Vargus had some gambling debts back in Rome that such a 
sale would go far towards covering.

If Vargus wished to press the girl into slavery, then the young man 
Marcus would need to be dealt with. Hmmmm.... what to do with Marcus... 
He would consider it over the final couple of hours to Alexandria.

After conquering Egypt for the Greeks 331 BC, Alexander the Great chose 
a hands-off policy of government in regards to Egypt. Alexander 
underwent the native sacred rites which made him divine ruler of Egypt 
then left the administration and ways of the Egyptian interior to the 
Egyptians themselves. Instead of moving in to occupy Memphis or Cairo, 
Alexander, inspired by a dream, chose a new base of operations for the 
Greeks in Egypt. On the natural harbor near Rhacotis, not too far from 
the mouth of the Nile, he built a fortified port upon Egypt's 
Mediterranean coast and named it, in a moment of egotism, Alexandria. 
The conqueror Alexander then connected the island of Pharos, located in 
the center of the great bay, to the mainland with a vast causeway. In 
this fashion two great harbors were created for his city and towering 
over it all, the Pharos Lighthouse, one of the Seven Wonders of the 
Ancient World. Thus began the Egyptian Ptolemaic Dynasty which would 
last until the death of Cleopatra. The capitol of Egypt quickly 
relocated to Alexandria as the city flourished with wealth, influence 
and intellectual achievements. Merchants and scholars from all 
directions of the compass visited and made a home in the great coastal 
city. Over the centuries, Alexandria became a cultural and economic 
powerhouse eclipsed only by the influence of Rome.

After finding berth in port, Vargus slipped through the throngs of 
Alexandria's central bazaar to make arrangements for the sale of his 
new human cargo. Vargus contacted an Egyptian flesh trader he had dealt 
with in the past. The men quickly struck terms for the sale of two 
slaves. 

Rather than kill Marcus, Vargus had decided to maximize his profits by 
selling him off with Helena. A young, healthy, literate male with 
training as a medic, no less, would fetch a handsome price. Helena and 
Marcus really had no choice but to go along with their new roles as 
slaves because, as fugitives from the Roman emperor, to stand up and 
declare their identities would mean execution. Further, the merchant 
decided to have the siblings sold together as a set. If sold 
separately, Marcus may well try to escape to hunt for his sister. 
Vargus figured Marcus would prove tamer if left by her side.

The slave auctions at Alexandria always attracted quite a crowd as 
human merchandise imported from every corner of known civilization went 
on display. Strong backed barbarians from Germania, educated Greeks 
from Athens, delicate beauties born along the silk trade from the far 
east; all sold like cattle to sharp-eyed buyers from as many distant 
lands as the slaves themselves. These humans, born into slavery or 
pressed into service, filled every role, menial and skilled, at the 
bottom of society. For Vargus, the afternoon sale of the siblings went 
better than expected. Helena and Marcus, stripped, forlorn and 
miserable upon display, had generated good interest amongst the buyers. 
The auction brought in more than enough for him to cover his gambling 
debts back in Rome. That evening Vargus toasted his own sweet fortune 
and cunning intelligence over an exquisite meal of rich delicacies; 
exotic food and drink the port city of Alexandria could provide for 
those with the means to indulge their culinary fantasies. Vargus 
grinned to himself, remembering how his own greedy heart had leapt for 
joy when a minor bidding war had erupted over the two. His mind would 
play over the triumph of this day for many weeks to come. 

For Marcus the auction passed as little more than a nightmare blur of 
humiliation, fear and rage. Shocked amazement, then outrage had been 
his reaction when Vargus' crew threw them into chains. It was 
unthinkable that Helena and himself, noble born Romans of status and 
wealth would be sold into slavery. Marcus' mind flamed with such 
thoughts of injustice and vengeful retribution that he barely even 
observed the proceedings of his own sale. As the bidding ended, Marcus 
came to his senses enough to search the crowd for whoever had captured 
Helena and himself. The final offer came from a Roman man in full toga 
and purple wrap escorted by an Egyptian woman whose jewels sparkled in 
the sun. With the declaration of final sale, strong hands hustled the 
two from the stage and through the crowds out to the street. Helena and 
Marcus' new owners stepped into a slave borne litter and lounged among 
the cushions. Six burly slaves, glistening with oil and sweat under the 
hot sun, hoisted the burden onto their shoulders, ready to march. The 
Roman man and Egyptian female sat regal and pampered in their slave 
borne, white curtained aerie. Both the wealthy Roman master and the 
Egyptian mistress looked over their new purchases with expressionless 
eyes. Marcus' head was so awhirl with his hatred for Vargus, 
humiliation and rage at the continuing injustice of his fate that 
Marcus hardly even noticed or bothered to appraise his new owners. 
Marcus wistfully considered he may prefer death to servitude when 
forced to spin about and be inspected my his masters. 

Marcus and Helena's shackles were removed as the flesh traders took 
payment and departed. Then the curtains of the litter closed and the 
carriage slaves lurched forward under the weight of their burden. 
Marcus found himself unbound and free for the first time all day. He 
considered trying to make a break for it, but if he and Helena were 
captured again they would be severely punished, possibly executed.

For Helena's part, while humiliated to the point that she could barely 
stand to look at another human, she thought nothing of the day's events 
any longer. She assumed this to be some trial; some test the goddess 
Venus had devised to survey Helena's heroing. Helena held in her heart 
the conviction of her belief in her goddess and in the power she had 
been granted to Love. She bent her love to her brother, but he was in 
such a foul mood it hardly seemed to be working. 

As the master's litter began to march off, there appeared before the 
pair a wiry Egyptian male with features so common and nondescript he 
would be a forgettable face in any size crowd. 

"Afi," the man said in a nasal voice, patting his chest to indicate 
himself. "Follow quick, no talk."

The man, Afi, spoke in Greek coated by the thick gravy of his native 
Egyptian accent. Helena and Marcus nodded, understanding his words. The 
pair spoke fine Greek as well as their native Latin: a benefit of their 
noble upbringing and tutelage. A high percentage of Egyptians spoke 
Greek as a second language due to the influence of Alexander and the 
Greek rulers who had followed behind him through the centuries. 

Afi, apparently the lead slave, rushed to catch-up to the litter and 
took a position front and to the side of the bearers. Helena and Marcus 
dejectedly walked to the rear of the small procession.

The curtained litter weaved through the pedestrian traffic of 
Alexandria's busy streets, it's white drapes jauntily billowed by the 
warm breeze blowing over the city from the ocean to the Egyptian 
desert. As she followed, Helena wistfully remembered the comfort and 
power she had taken for granted when being borne aloft upon the backs 
of slaves in Rome. The journey soon ended before the white-washed walls 
of a private estate on the edge of the city overlooking the sea. Many 
slaves milled about the empty litters they had borne their prestigious 
riders to this location in. Helena and Marcus' new owners departed 
their carriage and were soon lost from view along with Afi tagging 
behind, beyond the estate's front gate. Helena and Marcus dropped to 
the sandy ground to wait. 

The day passed in weary boredom for the slaves as the shadows grew long 
and the sun dipped from view. It was a party the master and mistress 
attended, and apparently a lively one as they stayed the day away at 
the festivities. Marcus and Helena conversed quietly, trying to 
determine a course of action. In this land where they had no friends, 
and where runaway slaves would be mercilessly hunted on principal, the 
best option for now seemed to play the role of the servant. 

As stars twinkled in the deepening twilight of the heavens, Afi 
returned in a flurry, clapping his hands and rousing the carriage 
slaves into position. The master and his lady followed soon after, 
stepping into their ready transport. Off again marched their procession 
with Helena and Marcus bringing wearily up the rear. A long walk across 
the moonlit streets of Alexandria ended this time amid a conclave of 
town estates and merchant shops lining a wide, clean, upscale avenue. 
Afi halted the carriage slaves before a regal town home, Roman in 
design, which featured a shop-front built into the first story facing 
the avenue. A common fixture among estate homes, the shop-front allowed 
for the selling of whatever goods or services the estate's slaves were 
skilled enough to produce or render. A cottage industry, one might say.

Afi opened the gate, and then the front door for the master and 
mistress, leaving the carriage slaves and siblings standing on the 
dark, brick paved street. Afi returned, then, having handed his charges 
off to household slaves who would attend them further. Afi waved off 
the carriage, a rental apparently, and turned to Helena and Marcus. He 
barely even glanced at Helena, but took his time viewing Marcus in 
silence.

"You have caught the mistress' eye," Afi said to Marcus. "Be wary of 
her. She is dangerous."

"Wha..." began Marcus.

"Tccct!" Afi cut him off with a sharp breath. "Tomorrow you will know 
more. Tonight, sleep good. Come."

Through a locked side door of the estate they went, and down a darkened 
corridor past curtained archways to one near the end. The sound of some 
activity, like stone being rubbed or scratched, drifted out of the 
room.

"You two will sleep here," said Afi, nodding at the curtain. "Marcus, 
you will have new quarters tomorrow, understand? Good night." With 
that, he continued out of the corridor into a large, dim room beyond.

Helena and Marcus stepped inside and found they were not alone in the 
room. In pale candlelight, two young women sat beside one another at a 
table, working with pestle and mortar to grind herbs. Fairly spacious, 
besides the work table the room contained two cushioned pallets for 
sleeping; shelves lined with urns, bowls and pots; wash stand with 
basin and a small eating table set with bread, fruit and wine on a 
platter. The women looked up and stopped working, watching the couple 
as they entered. The heady smell of mixed flowers and herbs drifted 
around the enclosed space.

Helena figured both young women, slaves, to be older than her, but not 
by much. Somewhere around seventeen or eighteen she guessed. Both women 
intrigued the eye: lovely to behold but not in a conventional sense (or 
a Roman sense, rather, for neither woman was Roman) but lovely by way 
of their exotic qualities. Rare birds, these, thought Helena.

The first woman, a dusky Egyptian, stared at Helena with glittering 
black eyes rimmed by the wide, attractive streaks of kohl eye-paint so 
commonly worn by Egyptian women. Her jet hair fell long and straight 
over her smooth shoulders and upper arms. Her features inspired a 
certain tenderness; rounded cheeks, wide almond eyes and pouty lips 
like a child. Her bosom swelled full but still containable. Helena 
judged by the set of the young woman's face and her easy poise that 
this desert flower would have humor and comfort in her soul. Helena 
decided she liked this girl.

The second slave girl came possessed of a startling, almost other-
worldly appearance. Her hair shown red as fresh blood, short cropped 
and boyish. Her sharp, luminous green eyes contained a feral quality 
which probed deep into everything they saw. A light sprinkle of 
freckles dotted cheeks and bridge of pert, sloped nose. She was lean of 
build, small of breast and her alabaster skin practically glowed in the 
candlelight. This young woman looked wild to Helena, and her initial 
reaction became one of trepidation. 

Helena glanced at her brother and found him still drinking in the 
sights.

"Hello," said Helena in Greek. "I'm Helena and this is my brother, 
Marcus."

The two women glanced at each other and traded a small smirk.

"Does Marcus have a tongue with which to speak?" Asked the Egyptian, 
also in Greek.

Marcus blinked to stop staring. "Yes. Thank you, I do."

"Niri," said the Egyptian, giving her name. Her voice breathed from her 
lips, soft and lush. "This is Morrigan," she nodded at the red head.

Morrigan nodded to the siblings by way of a greeting.

"And how about Morrigan," asked Marcus, trying to turn the tables. 
"Does she have a tongue with which to speak?"

The green eyes of Morrigan appraised Marcus openly, without humility or 
apology. "My Greek is not so good," she said with a bizarre, lilting 
accent neither sibling could place.

Without invitation, Marcus walked over to the table and took a bench, 
sitting across from the two women. Helena followed and joined him in 
sitting. Marcus had never really quit glancing at the red headed woman 
Morrigan. Her sharp, pixie features and green eyes fascinated him.

"Morrigan, where are you from?" asked Marcus, deeply curious.

"Britannia," she said.

"Ireland," Niri clarified. "Celtic." 

"Ireland, Britannia..." Morrigan absently waved off at one of the 
walls. "Far from here."

"She was captured by Roman soldiers and sold off," said Niri.

Marcus nodded and shifted his gaze to stop looking at the woman. The 
two women, however, continued to view him with open, speculative gazes.

Marcus didn't know about the Celtic women, but the Romans considered 
the Celtic men of Ireland to be demons. They charged into battle stark 
raving naked, furious with battle madness and lust for blood. Julius 
Caesar himself had said the Celts rose from the underworld. Marcus 
himself figured the Celts were just men who would bleed and die like 
any other man, though with less clothes.

"Well," said Helena, "It appears our master is quite wealthy. We are 
new slaves. What should we know?"

"There's a pox on this household..." Morrigan practically spat the 
words.

Niri placed a dusky hand on Morrigan's white skinned arm. Morrigan bit 
her lip and glanced askance at the Egyptian woman. 

"The household is orderly and clean," said Niri. "We are well fed and 
have some freedom..."

"Not near enough freedom," Morrigan interrupted. 

At the mention of food, Marcus realized neither he nor his sister had 
eaten all day. He spoke up immediately, asking if they could be fed.

Morrigan nodded and fetched the nearby platter of bread, fruit and 
wine, setting it down before the siblings upon the work table. As the 
pair munched, Niri began to speak of the things Marcus and Helena would 
probably wish to know. Niri told how the master, born a mere plebeian, 
had made his own wealth by shrewd and lucrative trade in sesame seed 
oil; a prized product exclusive to the Nile river valley. Morrigan took 
up, then, and explained in her broken, lilting Greek how the master had 
married a young Egyptian woman; an accomplished dancer with a flair for 
brewing cosmetics and fragrances. Then both women detailed how it was 
their job to mix the mistress' recipes for these cosmetics and sell 
them in the estate shop front. They further mentioned the mistress 
preferred pretty young girls for selling her beauty aids and that 
Helena would almost certainly be pressed into that role.

"You work with us," said Morrigan to Helena.

"But what of the male slaves?" Asked Marcus.

Niri and Morrigan simply shrugged and looked away. Marcus didn't see 
that as a promising response.

Then Niri and Morrigan began to relate household details like meal 
times, chores and the like. 

All through this conversation, the eyes of the two slave women never 
drifted far from their locked gaze upon Marcus. They paid Helena very 
little direct attention at all, though they responded to her questions 
politely enough. Helena caught the subtle innuendoes in their dialogue 
which announced that both Niri and Morrigan attempted to flirt with her 
brother. Unfortunately for these two, Helena mused, Marcus was so 
enamored of his own sister he probably wouldn't register their probes. 

Helena felt for the warm spark in her chest, the divine sliver of 
Venus' she carried near her heart. Trying to coax just enough power to 
sense the emotions around her, Helena reached out to the slave women 
Niri and Morrigan with her heightened senses. As Helena experienced the 
emotions of these slave women inside of herself , she tasted the desire 
each harbored for her brother. Wading into the warm water of Niri and 
Morrigan's emotions, Helena sensed in each woman a yearning... a 
gnawing want of fulfillment which had been denied to them. Both women, 
Helena discerned, had become aroused by the presence of Marcus in their 
midst and each entertained a sexual fantasy projected upon him.

"Do the male slaves sleep nearby?" Helena asked innocently.

"No." Niri sighed and shook her head.

"They are kept separate, always," said Morrigan. "The Mistress sees to 
that. No males for us."

"But I'm here," said Marcus.

"That's strange, too," said Niri. "Afi should have been back for you by 
now, I think."

"He is very prompt," Morrigan frowned.

Helena and Marcus blinked, nonplused. 

"He said for us to sleep here, tonight," said Marcus.

Morrigan and Niri looked at him incredulously.

"Yes, he said this room," agreed Helena.

The Egyptian and Celtic women turned sharply to catch each other's eye. 
Helena felt the floodgates of each woman's desire flown open in a rush 
as their hearts skipped a beat. Realization that this male would sleep 
all night beside them made both Niri and Morrigan ravenous with a 
hunger which they had, until now, been keeping carefully repressed. 
Then, something darker blossomed like a festering sore upon their 
mutual hearts. They turned slowly to regard Helena across the table 
with eyes pointed sharp as daggers and little frowns of distaste upon 
their lips. Resentment. Helena could almost see the plots the pair spun 
behind their eyes to rid themselves tonight of the annoying little 
sister. 

This is going to get interesting, Helena thought to herself. 

"Why, Helena," Niri smiled at her. "How rude we have been. You must be 
dying to freshen up after this crazy day you've had."

Morrigan and Niri jumped up and grabbed Helena. 

"You come with us, young woman." Morrigan's face positively glowed with 
false concern. "Make you feel better. Make you at home."

Niri turned to Marcus as they bustled his sister out of the curtained 
portal. "We'll be right back." She wrinkled her nose at him and winked 
an eye. "Girl stuff."

Marcus shrugged, oblivious to the fact that he had just become an 
object of minor intrigue.

Niri and Morrigan hot-footed Helena down the corridor and through a 
curtain portal into an unoccupied room lit by a single sputtering 
candle. a cluttered collection of bowls, urns, jars and jugs lay strewn 
across counter tops, shelves and a couple of tables. In one corner 
quite a large basin of water stood surrounded by small pots and vials 
of oils and fragrances. Niri led Helena to the basin and began the 
pretense of washing and oiling the young woman while Morrigan stoked a 
fire to warm a small pot of water.

"So, Helena," said Niri, "you are lucky to have such a nice brother. Do 
you suppose he has a favorite fragrance?"

"Yeah," chimed in Morrigan. "Fragrance. Good idea."

Morrigan grabbed a jar containing a dried leaf-herb mixture and 
sprinkled some of the vegetation on her tongue. Then she walked over 
and popped a liberal amount into Niri's mouth as well. Helena caught a 
whiff and smiled inwardly as the two chewed their little mix of breath 
fresher.

"Well, this is great to have all these fancy cosmetics and potions to 
use," said Helena, enjoying the sponge bath Niri gave her.

"Yes," replied Niri, "It's especially nice when we have new friends. 
Isn't that right, Morrigan."

"Yes, friends. Helena, we have a nice, soothing tea for you to try."

In a few minutes Morrigan brought over a warm cup for Helena and 
offered it to her whilst Niri finished toweling around her legs. Then 
both women stepped back a bit and watched Helena expectantly as she 
held the cup.

Helena stared down at the murky, warm water in her cup, undoubtedly a 
sleep agent, and smiled softly. Helena might have laughed at the antics 
of the two women if not for the fact she could feel Niri and Morrigan's 
gripping frustration and want of the man so close to their grasp. 
Helena did not know how these two lovely creatures had become so 
sexually needy, but Helena acknowledged her sacred duty to bring Love 
and Fulfillment as Venus' chosen hero. These two appeared to be in dire 
need of whatever heroing she could provide for them. Though the thought 
that she would have to share her brother sent a little flare of 
jealousy arcing across her heart, Helena would help them. 

The easiest thing to do would be to up-end the cup, find a bed and get 
out of their way, but Helena knew her brother too well. Marcus loved 
her with all his heart and would stay true through these women's most 
wanton play of seduction. Helena would be forced to seduce her brother 
for them. Helena breathed a prayer to Venus and set about the business 
of heroing.

Helena set the full cup to the side, untested. "It won't work," the 
young Roman said.

Niri and Morrigan's eyes narrowed, their gambit shattered. Helena felt 
fast hatred rising in both of them. "It won't work because he loves 
another," explained Helena. "He will try to stay true to her."

The women sighed, anger evaporating along with hope as their shoulders 
slumped in defeat.

"He loves me," said Helena.

They looked at her strangely.

"He loves you?" Asked Niri.

"I thought you said you were his sister," said Morrigan.

"I am his sister. Sister, lover and his companion. We've had trouble 
and... well, we count on each other now."

"Still... that's kind of... unhealthy, isn't it?" Asked Morrigan.

Niri shrugged. "The Pharaohs of Egypt have practiced sex and marriage 
with their sisters." 

Now that they had been found out and the ball had been dropped, the 
women waited in guilty silence to see what Helena would do. What Helena 
did next surprised them both. She calmly approached and softly took 
each woman's hands into her own. Then Helena looked earnestly into 
their eyes, smiled shyly and spoke. 

"My brother may be a little skittish at first. We have never had... 
uh... friends in our bed." 

The two slave women's eyes widened considerably at those words. 

Holding hands, the three women walked back through the dark house to 
the other room. Just inside the curtained entry way, Helena stopped the 
two slave women and motioned for their silence. Helena bid Niri and 
Morrigan stay as she approached Marcus from behind. 

Helena rubbed her slender fingers over Marcus' neck and shoulders, 
massaging the tense knots under his skin. He responded by moving his 
neck around, trying to help loosen up the area. After a couple minutes 
of this Helena slid around in front of him, straddling Marcus where he 
sat, her knees resting on either side of his hips. Helena looked deep 
into his eyes and combed through the soft tangle of his thick brown 
hair. She brought her lips to his and they kissed with the deep passion 
of lovers who are also friends, and friends who are also blood kinsmen 
loyal to the death. The soul kiss, a reverent expression for the many 
layers of their mutual ardor, seemed to last an eternity but measured 
only a dozen beats of their racing hearts. When it broke, Helena smiled 
and gazed into her brother's questioning eyes, eyes made large and dark 
in the room's fitful candlelight.

"Where are the others?" He whispered.

Helena felt the bulge of his rising manhood probing against her crotch 
as she straddled him. Helena bit her lower lip between her teeth, 
smiling slyly at her brother as she gyrated her hips to massage his 
stiffening cock. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Niri and 
Morrigan standing silent with anticipation, and a little envy she felt.

Helena placed her lips beside Marcus' ear. "Brother, you know I love 
you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," he replied automatically, whispering as well beside 
her own ear.

"Marcus, these slave girls need you help," she said.

"Well, of course I'll do whatever I can. What do they need?" Marcus 
imagined himself opening a stuck jar stopper or lugging some heavy 
object around for the pair.

"Marcus... would you please..." Helena tensed. "Marcus, these girls 
need to be loved."

Marcus went still. "Excuse me?"

"Relief. They need relief."

Marcus was quiet then. He thought back over the events of the entire 
day which had led him to this point and found it all absolutely 
surreal, as though it must be happening to someone else. He shrugged 
his mental shoulders, unable to find the energy to swim against the 
tide of a strange day getting stranger.

"Uh... all right. What do you want me to do?" 

Helena swung off of him. Tugging his arm, she brought him to his feet. 
When he noticed Niri and Morrigan standing in the archway, Marcus' 
posture went stiff and embarrassed. Helena removed Marcus' tunic and 
loincloth as he stood, so the women could admire the form of her 
brother in the soft candle light. Helena used her tongue, teasing a 
scarlet nipple upon Marcus' smooth chest. With a light touch she traced 
a finger down the fine treasure trail of hair leading from his abdomen 
to his manhood. Establishing a hold, she fell upon her knees before him 
and lewdly stuffed the cock into her mouth. Helena reached around and 
grabbed Marcus' ass with both hands and buried her nose into his curly 
pubic hair, sucking and swirling life into his half-erect member. She 
received a satisfied grunt for her efforts.

Niri and Morrigan, a bit in awe of this display, cautiously walked over 
and knelt beside Helena. They watched in fascination as the shaft slid 
in and out of her pretty lips, wet saliva reflecting glimmers of candle 
flame. Morrigan ran her hands over the muscles of Marcus' calves and 
thighs while Niri cupped and gently massaged Marcus' tightening 
undersack. 

Helena allowed the cock to pop out of her mouth, bringing a hand back 
around to grab it at the base. She held the cock out to Niri, silently 
offering it for her inspection. Niri gently poked out her pink tongue 
and licked the swollen purplish head cautiously as though accepting a 
lick of Helena's favorite peppermint stick. Helena then licked along 
the side of the shaft firmly and again held it for Niri to try. Niri 
took a firmer lick, tasting Marcus from tip to base. Then Helena 
engulfed the shaft, sucking with sensuous abandon while holding Niri's 
eye. Helen took the shaft out of her mouth and this time when she held 
the cock for the Egyptian Niri allowed it to enter her mouth. She 
bobbed it in and out of her face with loving, delicious abandon.

Helena scooted out of the women's way to give them more access. 
Standing, she removed her own tunic, making herself nude before Marcus' 
appreciative gaze. She blew a kiss to him as she watched her brother 
running his strong hands through Niri's raven hair, slowly fucking her 
lovely face. Helena moved to Morrigan and began to undress the green-
eyed slave from Britannia who knelt roving curious hands and gentle 
kisses over Marcus' belly, upper thighs and ass. Beneath her tunic 
Morrigan possessed a body both thin and angular. With her short cropped 
hair, Morrigan might easily be mistaken for a boy from behind. Her legs 
stretched long and coltish from her lean, sharp physique. The muscles 
of her shoulders and ass rolled easily under her silky white skin. Upon 
her naked back Morrigan bore thin, diagonal scars of punishment; 
remembrances of time spent under the lash. These markings had healed 
over long ago: proof that Morrigan's teachings in the ways of a slave 
had come early and had never been forgotten.

Helena tried to disrobe Niri next but the Egyptian stood to disrobe 
herself. No sooner had Niri's succulent lips parted ways from Marcus' 
flesh than Morrigan herself sucked the glistening, saliva coated prick 
into her mouth. As Niri's tunic dropped to the stone floor the siblings 
were each surprised to find the desert woman shaven completely clean of 
body hair. Niri rubbed her bald slit and smiled shyly. 

Niri enjoyed a more classically feminine body shape than either 
Morrigan or Helena, though in Helena's case there was yet some filling 
out to be done. Curvy and soft from neck to calf, Niri's slender waist 
flared into breeders hips which peaked and declined down well molded 
legs. Her breasts hung heavy, firm and beautiful with large, dark 
aerola. Adding in her dusky skin and wide almond eyes rimmed in kohl, 
Helena and Marcus each found Niri's nakedness thrilling to gaze upon.

On impulse Marcus pulled his cock from Morrigan's novice lips and stood 
her up. She too had been shaved completely, they saw. The two looked 
like little girls; especially Morrigan with her coltish body and elfin 
facial features.

"The master, he likes us like this," Morrigan said with a shrug.

Marcus nodded, too sexually stimulated to get side-tracked by asking 
further about it. He held out his hand to the slave from Britannia. She 
smiled sweetly and placed her fingers in his palm. Then Marcus lead her 
to one of the pallets as Niri and Helena followed. Marcus laid Morrigan 
down, and began running his hands over her slender frame. He felt along 
legs and torso, stopping to pinch her erect, pink nipples. Marcus took 
one of Morrigan's small, proud breasts into his mouth and suckled, 
pinching the other. Catching his sister's eye he held out his hand to 
her. She accepted his invitation and knelt to take Morrigan's free 
breast into her own mouth. The sensation of two warm mouths sucking and 
teasing her breasts made Morrigan sigh in pleasure. Her own fingers 
traveled down to press against her sex.

Helena looked up at Niri and took her hand. She pulled down, causing 
the desert woman to kneel beside her. Helena went back to sucking the 
breast, but held Niri's black eyes with her own. Soon Helena stopped 
again and made a little come hither gesture with her finger. Niri just 
looked for a moment. Niri could honestly say that she had never once 
considered sucking another woman's breast since she had been weaned 
from her mother. Watching Helena suckle from her friend, however, 
excited Niri with it's eroticism, and it clearly gave Morrigan the 
pleasure she and Niri both thirsted for. Niri bent her head and took 
the delicate flesh into her mouth.

Helena smiled to herself and scooted over to get next to Marcus. When 
she put her lips to Marcus' ear and whispered Marcus nodded and let 
Helena take over sucking the breast while he moved lower. Placing 
himself between the legs of Morrigan, he gently moved her small hand 
aside and began licking around her mound. The aroma of Morrigan's sex 
differed from his sister's, Marcus noted, and when he drove his tongue 
into her shaved furrow he found the taste different as well. Morrigan's 
scent seemed less pronounced to the nose and tasted vaguely of iron on 
the tongue. Warm and pleasing nonetheless, Marcus tended to Morrigan's 
cunt just as his sister had taught him to attend to her's last evening. 

Niri lifted her head and looked with a kind of open mouthed amazement 
at Helena. She had never known a male to do anything like that. 
Actually, neither had Morrigan. 

"Oh Gods!" Was as far as the red-head got in Greek before slipping into 
her native tongue for a triad of panting declarations on her ecstasy. 
None of the other three could understand her, so they just sucked for 
all they were worth and left it at that.

Morrigan gripped Marcus' hair in both hands and humped his mouth. Her 
body thrashed and her teeth clenched under the constant stimulation the 
three mouths provided. Her legs trembled violently and then she threw 
her head back in bliss as pleasure overwhelmed her. She positively 
bounced on the pallet to the shuddering thud of each orgasmic wave and 
protectively jerked her hands over her clit which could take no more. 
Helena kissed Morrigan's cheek and then moved to kiss the woman's 
mouth. Morrigan, eyes closed, responded with generous wet lips as the 
pleasure subsided. When she finally opened her eyes she looked a little 
bit embarrassed that another girl kissed her so intimately. Helena just 
smiled.

In the aftermath of Morrigan's orgasm, Marcus wiped his chin and leaned 
over to kiss Niri. The Egyptian accepted and returned his kiss, tasting 
the essence of Morrigan swirling upon his tongue. Marcus, Helena and 
Morrigan all made room and laid Niri down in much the same position 
Morrigan had enjoyed. Without coaxing, Morrigan clamped a mouth to one 
full, soft breast while Marcus took the other. This time Helena took 
the turn of kneeling between open thighs and pleasuring the clit. 
Helena gave Niri's cunt a good work-up before alighting upon her 
clitoris. Niri soon began to pant and moan in her lush voice, telling 
them all how much they pleased her.

Inside of herself, Helena tried to keep a tight lock on the power 
contained within the sliver of Venus: the tiny piece of the goddess own 
being which Helena carried embedded near her heart. In the wake of so 
much lust surrounding her, the power bucked and begged to be released 
to consume her. She denied it. To be consumed by the golden heat and 
energy of the power would mean she would also be consumed by her own 
personal desire for fulfillment. She wished for Niri and Morrigan to 
get their pleasures first. But when sex and lust filled her eyes and 
heart, the power became a beast fighting to be unleashed. She lost the 
fight a little bit more with each passing minute as the molten, golden 
warm slowly leaked into her system and began to build. 

In her mind, Helena screamed out at the Heavens. "Goddess Venus, 
please! Look what's happening to me! I don't want to be the selfish 
one. Why can I not control this?"

Helena was quite surprised when an answer actually came back to her. 

"Lust, by it's nature," spoke Venus in her mind, "is a powerful but 
selfish emotion. Instead, feel Love for those around you. Capture Love 
- selfless and giving. I am proud of you, dear. Practice my lesson."

Helena licked Niri and tried to think different. Helena brushed aside 
thoughts of how much she would love Niri's beautiful face stuck in her 
own cunt, or how sexy the Egyptian woman's curved body looked. Instead 
Helena thought of pleasuring Niri for Niri's sake, loving Niri outside 
of sex and wishing everything good for Niri. She allowed the golden 
flow to course through her in a rush, but kept her mind solidly focused 
upon pleasing Niri for the simple love of pleasing Niri.

Every single tiny desire Niri wished performed upon her body came 
intuitively to Helena. Niri wished to be filled so Helena slipped two 
fingers into her moist little hole. Niri wished for pressure on her 
upper wall, so Helena wiggled her fingers to stroke the hot inner flesh 
above the curve of the pubic bone. And when Niri raised her hips, 
wishing unconsciously to be filled even further, Helena glided two cool 
fingers from her free hand into the sweltering tunnel of the desert 
woman's ass. By loving to please Niri and pleasing Niri for love, 
Helena soon found herself playing the Egyptian's every fiery nerve 
ending with the masterful skill of a concert pianist. Helena's tongue 
danced in whipping whirls and twirls upon Niri's clit with the light 
touch and grace of a ballet artist, building upon her pleasure in 
bounds. All the while Morrigan and Marcus continued to worship her 
breasts, kiss her face, bite her flesh and whisper words both sweet and 
dirty into her ears. As Niri's excitement mounted, her skin flushed 
burning crimson, limbs and spine twisted and long, ragged moans rasped 
from her throat. 

Helena built Niri's pleasure up and up, never pulling the pin for final 
release, keeping the woman trapped in a maddening state of pleasure on 
the razor's edge of ecstasy. Niri began to simultaneously love and hate 
Helena for this but could do naught but endure and relish it. Moments 
before it all might have fallen apart, leaving Niri an oversensitized, 
frustrated mess of pain, Helena synchronized a movement between 
grasping ass, leaking cunt and fiery clit which unlocked Niri's Orgasm 
at last. Niri couldn't even speak, couldn't even breath as the first 
orgasmic wave crested and broke with the violent fury of an ocean gone 
tidal in a hurricane. Her body shook with uncontrollable, epileptic 
abandon. Helena instinctively changed her technique, milking more and 
more shuddering thuds from the woman's diaphragm, driving Niri into an 
insensible, panting, thrashing, drooling creature beyond any thought 
and reason. 

"I love you, Niri," Helena repeated over and over in her mind. "I love 
you Niri. I love you Niri."

Helena coaxed waves from Niri beyond the point when nature itself would 
have ended the climax. She did not quit until Niri lay still, no longer 
projecting her thoughts or desires any further. Helena had knocked her 
out. 

As Niri lay quiet, Morrigan and Marcus looked up at each other and 
locked gazes with animal need. The swirling aroma of the three women's 
musky scent filled the air, drove Marcus' male heart crazy with a 
lusting for female flesh. Morrigan's inner thighs glistened wet with 
the lubricant's dribbling from her hungry, naked cunt. Marcus 
practically jumped to the other side of the pallet, getting behind the 
lean slave from Britannia who still knelt over Niri. She knelt on all 
fours lifting her hips to him, offering her wet, blood engorged slit 
for his pleasure like a bitch in heat. With a mutual sigh and groan 
Marcus filled the young woman, burying his shaft in her tight, pink 
tunnel to the base. Grabbing her roughly, Marcus strained and pressed 
against her as though he could fit more of himself inside, grinding his 
belly and pelvis against her ass. 

Helena watched Morrigan's eyes close and her lips snarl in savage lust. 
Marcus began to move in and out of her with slow, steady strokes. 
Morrigan bucked against him, wanting more. Helena sensed her brother's 
fear of getting off too quickly in the girl. Morrigan's thin, muscled 
frame held him damnably tight.

Helena moved over to the two. She ran her slender hands along 
Morrigan's whip-scarred back, then around and under the torso to grab a 
firm breast in either hand. As Helena pinched her nipples, Morrigan 
sighed and growled.

Helena felt lust coming on strong in her heart as Morrigan's straining 
body pressed against her and the hot action of her brother dog-fucking 
the woman filled her eyes and ears. She breathed deep trying to remove 
herself from the scene. Helena bent her will to thoughts of love. "I 
love you, Morrigan," she thought to herself. 

Morrigan's every want and desire flooded into Helena just as Niri's 
had. Helena instantly responded to the woman's wishes with instinctive 
affinity for her pleasure. However, Helena almost recoiled when she 
found locked in the woman's soul a longing want of a dark love: a dark 
love Helena was unused to. But it was too late; she had given herself 
over to the power of loving Morrigan and could not but act.

Helena pinched and pulled the nipples much harder, causing pain to 
mingle with pleasure in Morrigan.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" Helena whispered to her.

Helena slid one hand from breast to clit and began pinching, gripping 
and torturing the tender flesh in and around Morrigan's cunt along with 
her tit.

"You little bitch. You hot, nasty little bitch."

Morrigan moaned with relief as her want of pain, pleasure and curses 
began to be fulfilled. Helena felt the rush of joy and excitement 
racing like lightning through Morrigan's thin frame. Helena used two 
fingers to trace patterns of pleasure over the woman's clit.

"Little whore!" Helena's high, pretty voice seemed at odds with the 
words she spoke. "Little whore! Little bitch! Fuck my brother's cock, 
bitch. Do you even deserve all that cock, little whore?"

Morrigan tried to impale herself faster upon Marcus. She rushed to 
intercept each incoming stroke. Helena reached out and grabbed a 
fistful of the woman's red hair, snapping her head back. Morrigan 
grunted through clenched teeth. Marcus, becoming caught up in the scene 
and the vibe, abandoned any pretense of holding his rhythm to an easy 
pace. His sister's lewd speech and Morrigan's want of a rough, hard 
treated fuck put him beyond trying. He began spanking Morrigan's ass in 
stinging open-hand slaps, ramming into her soft, warm, dripping cunt 
hole unmercifully. Morrigan's tight flesh and body trembled with each 
impact of palm and pelvis. She grunted and growled, blissfully filled 
by hammering cock while Helena's expert clit massage and Marcus' hard 
slaps complimented each other perfectly, whisking her away to ecstasy.

"Fuck her hard, brother. Beat the fucking whore."

Morrigan came, her legs trembling and back arching in climax. Marcus 
quit slapping her and held the woman's body tight, driving in and out 
of it in fast, sharp thrusts. His face screwed up as he too came, 
blowing rope after rope of thick cream into Morrigan's shuddering 
walls. 

As their orgasm subsided, Helena moved in front of Morrigan and kissed 
her lips. This time Morrigan responded with open-eyed, willing 
acceptance and affectionate return.

"I love you, Morrigan," said Helena, meaning it.

Morrigan responded by kissing her harder. 

"That was... intense," said Niri, awake and watchful. The gleam in her 
eye advertised her readiness for more.

They all three looked at Helena, then. They smiled and moved at her. 
She smiled back and allowed Lust to take her over at last. 

electricferret@mindless.com