The General's Virgin Slave (13 page)

"But you will still take care of the
other girls," she said. "I don't want anyone turned out because of
me."

He laughed. "What task do you suggest
they serve if I have no need of them in my bed from now
on?"

"I'm sure there is plenty for them to
do. Perhaps some of your men would like wives?"

"Axa, a Roman centurion cannot marry
while he remains in service to the Emperor."

"Oh....right." She nodded slowly. "I
forgot. I read about that." Now her green eyes glittered, searching
his face. "Then you cannot marry either."

"Not without special permission. Until
I retire in another ten years."

She paled a little and looked down. "I
see. Ten years! Such a long time."

Sensing she was — for once—holding
back a question, he said, "I will be forty in ten years,
Axa."

"Oh. Forty."

"And you?"

"I'll be twenty nine then."

So she was younger than he thought.
Nineteen. From the way she spoke and her self-confidence he had
taken her for a woman of five and twenty perhaps. But there was
also the sexual inexperience, of course, to take into
account.

He held out his arm for her. "Are you
ready, Axa, for the ceremony?"

She looked at him a moment and then
nodded.

* * * *

Tonight she had been bathed and her
skin rubbed with scented oil. Her hair was left loose but decorated
with a circlet of wild flowers from the meadow outside the villa.
She felt like a pagan sacrifice.

In a sense she would be.

But if she was going to lose her
cherry finally, why not make the event something special, she
mused? Axa had to admit she was aroused as Marcus led her up onto a
podium in the center of the triclinium and removed her mantle— the
only garment she wore. He too was stripped naked for this
performance.

The guests gathered around, some
sprawling on benches as they enjoyed their host’s food and wine.
Prostitutes from the fornice were scattered around the great room,
already earning their money. The atmosphere in the place was
steamy, overflowing with sultry, sexual heat. A group of musicians
played softly nearby and slaves stood around with tall, leaf-shaped
fans edged in gold.

It was very extravagant, she thought.
Decadent Roman just as she'd read about it.

Marcus laid her on a couch that sloped
with her feet downward and spread her legs for the audience,
propping her heels up on the silk.

Axa turned her head and saw Gaius
Damianus seated close to the podium, his stern gaze fixed upon her
body as he bit into a leg of roasted meat and juice ran down his
chin. Looking further, she saw every eye watching.

Such a novelty— she heard the
whispers—a virgin.

A fitting symbol of spring and
fertility rites.

Uh oh. Fertility. Suddenly it occurred
to her that Marcus was not likely to have any knowledge about or
concern for contraception.

There was no time now to raise the
subject. His staff was already tall and thick, standing to
attention as he stroked it with one hand and knelt on the couch
between her knees.

The audience fell into awestruck
silence and even the musicians stopped playing for a
moment.

"Open your body, virgin," Marcus said.
"Your owner and master is about to claim your
maidenhead."

He wasn't using anything to smooth his
path and the sight of that massive cock poised to force its way in
caused Axa to catch her breath in trepidation. No, she must not
tense. So she tried to relax.

"Fuck her," shouted the governor,
standing at the side of the podium. "Fuck the slave
girl!"

A rowdy cheer rose up as the crowd
echoed his demand. "Fuck her! Fuck her!"

"Plow the wench and plant her with
seed!"

"Praise to the gods for another year's
bounty," grunted Marcus, his gaze riveted to her face.

And then he put his hands around her
hips and lifted her lower body. She grabbed the sides of the couch
as her bottom lost contact with the silk cushion and then she felt
his broad cockhead pushing between her labia. He slowly positioned
her onto him as he leaned forward, on his knees, pulling her hips
down the couch.

His rock hard penis speared her with
one powerful thrust. She groaned at the immediate flush of intense
pain and the crowd cheered enthusiastically, raising their drinking
cups in a toast to the gods who would make the fields fertile and
bring a good harvest.

Marcus thrust deeper yet and she cried
out. While she'd expected pain, she could not have imagined this.
For a moment it was too much for her, the cramping of her lower
body making her break out in a sweat. But then it passed, replaced
by an exquisite sensation of fullness. His body had completed hers,
filled a hole.

In every sense of the word, she
thought drily.

His eyes dark with victory, he began
to move his hips, lowering his body over her, his broad thighs
spread between her legs to hold them open.

"Blood!" cried a voice excitedly. "I
see the blood where he has broken her."

Another cheer in celebration. These
Romans really liked their blood sports, of course, she thought
distantly.

Her master's manhood steadily
stretched her body to accommodate his size. She felt his pulse
thudding within her as her pussy sheathed that incredible length
and width.

"You are mine now," he
growled.

"Yes," she gasped out on a halting
breath.

He pressed a small distance further
and she cried out. For three slow breaths he rested there, his
shaft embedded, allowing her to adjust her body to the invasion,
then he backed out and proudly showed his bloodied weapon to the
appreciative crowd.

Axa felt flushed, lying there exposed
amid the rowdy celebration. She was about to sit up and find
something to cover herself, but Marcus briskly wiped his cock clean
on her discarded mantle and then climbed onto the couch again,
pushing her down and re-entering her body in one forceful
thrust.

With slow, deliberate strokes he began
to fuck her. The friction built steadily and flames of desire soon
overtook the pain and the shame of being exhibited this way before
so many onlookers. Riven with need, she raised her legs and wrapped
them around his body, urging Marcus ever deeper and
faster.

Now he quickened the rhythm, pounding
into her with a bestial roar. The world spun and she cried out in
ecstasy as the climax neared. But he did not let her have it yet.
He slowed again, stopped, even pulled all the way out.

"Marcus," she groaned, reaching for
him.

He leaned down and licked the blood of
her maidenhead from her aching pussy.

* * * *

He was white hot, his lust for her a
thick fog that obscured his sight to anything else but the
beautiful woman on the silken couch. The audience behind him urged
Marcus on with shouts and cries of delight as he spread the lips of
her cunt and lapped up further evidence of her deflowering. She had
bled considerably and it raised the crowd's excitement.

His phallus was hard as iron, his sac
full and heavy, but he held off a while longer, performing not just
for the crowd, but also for Axa. His woman.

She arched her back, panting,
perspiration lending her fine skin a pearlescent quality. Holding
her labia open, he displayed her thus for the audience, letting
them all admire the tight haven of velvet in which he would soon
spend.

Gaius Damianus and some of his friends
came closer to inspect her as she writhed with erotic need on the
couch. Marcus knew that as he held her pussy lips apart and didn't
let her close her legs, she would be unable to finish her climax.
She was afire with it. Keening with raw desire. He made certain to
keep her hovering at the peak by pressing his tongue or the pad of
his thumb occasionally to the little pink nub at the crest of her
labia. It jolted her every time, made her bottom lift off the
couch, her breasts bounce enticingly. She was all sex, all passion.
Alive with it, her little nether mouth craving his seed.

"Come, feel," he urged the other men.
"See how ready she is."

He let them touch her, tease her
hidden pink pearl just as he did. One by one they fondled her, some
caressing around the clitoris to make her breath quicken, her
nipples sharpen. Others touched the naughty button directly,
causing a yelp of agonized need from his woman.

Even Marcus could not hold off
forever. He pushed their hands aside and mounted her again with one
hard, ruthless thrust. She was already coming before he was fully
sheathed. She screamed his name and he released his stream with a
roar, deep and long, buried to the hilt in that glorious
warmth.

The other men looked on in envy. He
could feel the governor's eyes raking across the skin of his
sweating back like vicious fingernails.

It merely aroused him again. Moments
after coming he was ready to rut a second time.

Apparently Axa did possess magic after
all. She had made him a believer.

* * * *

In a daze, she let him sit her up on
the edge of the stained couch to show her off again, this time with
his cum dripping out of her pussy. He sat astride the couch behind
her and held her under the knees, lifting her legs and parting them
so the audience could view his handiwork and raise another
toast.

Axa leaned back, her head on her
master's wide shoulder, and felt only a little shiver of shame as
so many— men and women— came to look and admire her sore, swollen
pink labia, filled to over-brimming with the spunk of Marcus
Cassius. She was sticky with it, drowning in it. And yet she would
have taken it again and again. In his arms she felt treasured,
adored.

"You have done well tonight," he
whispered in her ear and she heard the pride in his voice. "Now
they all know you are my loyal woman, my special one. I don't
usually spill my seed inside any woman's pudenda."

"You don't? But—"

"I don't risk getting my slaves with
child, Axa. Did you imagine me so careless?"

She swallowed. "I just assumed you
Romans wouldn't be concerned."

She felt him chuckle although it was
so soft no one else in the noisy room would hear. "You are the
privileged one, Axa. You will bear my strong sons, if the gods
permit."

A moment of panic shot through her
then. She would bear his children but he could not marry her for
ten years. So they would be bastards. And he might grow bored with
her one day, toss her aside. As a woman in this world she had no
rights.

"The gods might
not
permit," she
muttered.

Still holding one knee up with his
left hand, he slipped the fingers of the other down over her
rounded stomach and rubbed her sticky pussy lips until she felt
another quake begin deep inside, making her womb contract. "Stop. I
can't keep coming like this. I'm exhausted. Mar—Master, don't. I
won't orgasm. You can't make it—" And she came with a short, sharp
cry. The watching Romans laughed to hear her lips complain while
her body betrayed her completely.

"I'm exhausted," she murmured. "I
can't—"

But he proceeded to prove to her that
she could. She could indeed keep climaxing and he would make her do
it for as long and as many times as he wanted. He caressed her,
diddled her clit, squeezed and pinched lightly. Again and again he
brought her to that peak, sometimes by doing nothing more than
patting her wet labia in a quick fluttering motion. It was as if he
had found a switch in her and turned it on.

The elusive switch no one else had
ever found.

And soon he was ready to deliver
another load of his seed inside the body he now owned.

"Sit astride my lap," he commanded.
"Let them see you slide down my flagstaff."

Although she was sore inside by then,
she struggled to obey. There was no "can't" in his vocabulary she
discovered that night.

Chapter
Eight

When he sent her off to be bathed,
soothed and perfumed ready for his bed, Marcus sat with some of his
guests, enjoying their congratulations. Gaius Damianus was silent,
sly, like a panther waiting to pounce on Marcus once he got him
alone.

"Now you've had the native bitch, you
can give her to me. As we discussed."

He knew he must proceed carefully and
not risk raising the man's ire again. "I'm sorry, governor. I told
you I would consider it, but I have not yet had the time to do
so."

Gaius spoke through gritted teeth,
"How much more time do you need? You've had her for days and only
just got around to fucking her. How long am I supposed to wait
while you procrastinate further?"

"I had the feast to plan and other
things on my mind."