The General's Virgin Slave (9 page)

"You want your weapon back? I think
not, slave. The weapon is kept under guard and shall remain there
until you confess your mission."

"It is not a weapon. It's a device for
communication over great distances."

"Aha! So you want to report your
progress to those who sent you here. You have done well, for here
you are already in my bed."

Amanda groaned, pressing fingers to
her forehead. In all likelihood her phone would only increase his
confusion and suspicion. "I don't know what else to tell you,
except that I mean you no harm. I was just as surprised today in
that forest as you were."

"I should have given you to the
governor tonight! In truth I have no room for another female slave.
I keep too many well fed already."

She was up on her knees now. "Fine.
Give me to him. I can't wait!"

"So you
want
to go with him,
eh?" he shouted, eyes hot and dark.

"It's called sarcasm," she shouted
back. "I'd tell you to look it up, but you probably can't even
read."

"You dare raise your voice to
me!"

"How else can I make you listen,
stubborn Roman ox?"

"Keep talking, slave. Every word will
get you another lash."

"You said you don't believe in beating
your slaves."

He stuck out his jaw. "I'll let Gaius
do it!"

"If you give me to him, you'd be
cutting off your nose to spite your face." Whatever happened, until
she escaped this world, Amanda knew she wanted to stay with Marcus.
Even a Marcus who doubted her motives, but fed her with his own
fingers, was better than a Gaius who wanted her beaten, starved and
used for breeding stock.

She knew Marcus wanted to keep her.
They had a connection from the first eye contact. It was so strong
it had terrified her. And Amanda Adams was not easily
scared.

"So," he jabbed a finger at her, "you
threaten to cut off my nose, eh?"

"Now you're just being stupid," she
screamed, frustrated.

He curled his long fingers into great
fists at his sides and Amanda suffered a flicker of fear then. She
shrank back to the far end of the bed on her chain. "Why should I
keep you?" he demanded, "Why?"

"At least if I am here you can keep an
eye on me. Who knows what I might do when I am out of your
sight?"

He glowered down at her. She thought
desperately for some way to be of use to him— beyond the
sex.

"I could tell you some things that
will happen in the future."

"Then you confess to
witchcraft?"

"No! I know about things
because I am
from
the future." Amanda paused, searching her mind for facts.
"What year is this?"

Marcus spat angrily, "The tenth year
of Emperor Nero's reign, of course."

Then it was A.D. 64— although this man
would not know that calendar—and according to the buds on the trees
it was spring. Therefore she had some knowledge of a coming event
with which to impress him. "In July of this year Rome will burn in
a fire. A terrible fire."

Through narrowed eyes he surveyed her.
"July?"

"Julius as you would call
it."

"I see. You have knowledge of the plot
to burn our great city? Who are the instigators of this planned
crime? Confess all to me and I may be lenient."

Oh, no. Had she just landed herself
deeper in trouble with her eagerness to be clever?

"Speak, woman!"

"I don't know," she cried. "I don't
know how it starts, but when it burns some will blame Nero, so he
will seek a scapegoat. That is when the persecution and torture of
Christians will begin."

He drew back, shaking his head.
"Christians? They are a small religious sect, harmless and
insignificant."

"But Nero won't think so and he will
feed them to the lions. The fire will be his excuse. Apparently you
people didn't need much reason to enjoy a bloodthirsty, cruel
entertainment."

"
You people
." He squared his
shoulders and she saw the veins on the back of his hands. "This you
say with disdain in your voice. But I know it is envy. We Romans
are the greatest race that ever lived and ever shall live. We have
conquered the world."

"In four years Nero will kill himself.
In another four hundred years your Empire will be dying,
Marcus."

"Never! We are the—"

"There will be military losses,
taxation, inflation, an over-reliance on slave labor. And Germanic
tribes will finally sack Rome in 476 A.D."

"In the name of Jupiter, you are mad,
woman! You speak seditious lies."

"It's history and you're a part of
it." Had Marcus Cassius truly existed? As soon as she got back to
her own time, she'd Google his name, she thought, with a sudden
burst of excitement.

"I thank you for the information about
our enemies planning to set Rome ablaze. Now what else will you
confess, slave?"

"It wasn't a confession," she
exclaimed, exasperated. "It's nothing to do with me. I should be
sitting in a dark corner at a party right now, picking fruit out of
a lethal combination of alcoholic beverages and waiting for my
friend Chrissy to pick a quarrel with someone so we can leave. I'm
just a woman minding my own business and trying to get through
life."

"You are a woman, yes. That much is
true. And as such you are here as a receptacle for my strong
seed."

"Oh, good grief. Is that all you
people think about?"

"There, again!
You people
."

"Well, I'm sorry if it offends you,
but I think I'm the one with more right to feel insulted, after the
way you treated me today." She grabbed her chain and shook
it.

"Insulted? I have honored you by
making you my bed slave, woman, and promising you the fucking of
your life."

She yelled, "Be still my
heart!"

He tore his tunic off over his head,
leaving his short, black curls rumpled and on end. He tossed the
garment across the floor and she saw he was already erect. "Get on
your hands and knees," he growled, breathless.

"What are you going to do?"

"Silence! Get on your hands and knees
on the bed." He spat on his hand and ran it over his rampant organ.
"I have been too soft with you, as the governor said. You will not
make a fool of me, spy."

Chained to his bed, she had no other
choice but to comply. Perhaps now she would finally wake up. If he
did to her what she suspected he was planning, then that might be
the event that catapulted her back to her consciousness and real
life.

"Down," he ordered, pushing her
shoulders to the bed. "Keep your arse high." With his other hand he
spanked her hard on her bare bottom. She was so shocked she didn't
know what to say. It stung meanly. And then he spanked her again.
"Beg me to keep you, slave." A third slap made her knees bounce and
she muffled her cries in the sheepskin bed cover. "Beg me, Axa, or
I will send you to Gaius Damianus and let him dispense your
punishment."

Her skin was on fire from the crack of
his hard hand, but a frisson of wicked delight shot from her sore
cheeks to her pussy. It gathered there in heavy waves that made her
sway slightly off balance and arch her spine to push her bottom
higher still.

"In heat, eh?" he
exclaimed, spanking her again. "Like a bitch in heat you throw your
cunt up at me. Luring me in. That's where you want me, isn't it,
Axa?" He pinched her labia and then slapped it. "You think
you
will own
me
with this tight cunt
of yours."

She knew he did this out of
frustration and sexual arousal. He did not know how else to manage
his feral princess spy. "That's right," she muttered over her
shoulder. "My pussy is just a trap. Isn't that what all men have
thought since the beginning of bloody time?"

Marcus leapt onto the bed, his big
form covering her, straddling her lower half. He licked his fingers
and began forcing them between her buttocks. "Now beg me to keep
you," he hissed, his breath dampening her neck.

She felt his index finger pushing into
her anus and she cried out, "Why should I beg? You know you want
to! You just don't want to admit it."

He worked that wet finger in and out,
cursing under his breath. The hard planes of his chest pushed into
her shoulders and his massive cock pushed at the back of her thigh,
the fleshy head of it throbbing against the curve of her arse. "I
will fill you, Axa, again and again. There will be nothing left for
Gaius or any other man who comes after."

She groaned as he entered her with a
second finger. "Marcus!"

"Beg me. Say you wish to be my slave,
Axa."

It hurt, but she was so aroused, the
endorphins released set her being on another plane, high above. She
wanted sex. She needed it now. With him. Their quarrel had raised
her body heat, and not far beneath the exchange of words and
insults there was violent lust. She had seen in his dark, dark eyes
the temper of an angered lion. But she refused to back down and
quake before him. Until that moment, Amanda had never known exactly
what she wanted, what she had waited for all these
years.

No man had excited her like he
did.

She expected to feel his phallus
breaching her pussy, but instead it followed where his fingers had
been.

He was entering her back
door.

"Ouch! Stop. Not there! It's too big
for my arse," she cried.

Marcus Cassius disregarded her
protest. "Here I come, slave."

"Oh...oh... god," she groaned through
gritted teeth. "Yesss. Oh god, yes!"

"I am your master, Axa. I do as I
please with you and you welcome it." He thrust a half-inch and she
felt her tight muscles opening under the intense pressure.
"Whatever my pleasure must be yours too."

She tried to take a breath. "I thought
you... wanted... my virginity."

"Oh, I'm saving your maidenhead," he
purred in her ear as he held himself poised partially inside her
threshold, "for a special celebration later."

Amanda struggled to catch her breath.
His hands reached under and cupped her swaying breasts, his
callused fingers teasing her nipples.

"Open for me," he growled, his teeth
skimming her ear, "I must spend inside my pretty slave. Naughty,
naughty spy who plots for my undoing."

She could not believe what he was
doing to her, mounting her like a bull. Gasping, panting, she
arched her neck, her head falling back. His teeth skimmed her ear
and the side of her neck, where he planted a kiss as he eased his
cock deeper. Her bottom felt full, her anus stretched beyond
capacity. As he slowly began to ride Amanda, his heavy balls
occasionally swayed forward enough to kiss her damp, sticky pussy
lips. It was a slight, teasing touch that maddened her, made her
want to grind back, impale herself on his huge rod.

His blood was clearly boiling too, his
needs slipping beyond even his stern self-control.

"This makes me even hungrier for your
cunt," he whispered huskily, sliding one hand down, over her belly,
to her vulva. His hot fingers fondled her, circling her clit, while
his cock still plundered her back passage with slow, steady
strokes. Then he pressed the heel of his hand against her core,
pushing on her roused clit, holding her as the tension built to an
explosion.

"Marcus!" Amanda began to orgasm with
a ferocity that made her spit, her body flexing wildly under his.
"Don't give me to the governor."

"Excusa?"

"Keep me, Marcus. Keep me, damn you."
Her muscles clamped hard on his battering ram and her master
celebrated with a grunt of pleasure as he spilled his
load.

She felt the pulsing flood of his
semen and when he pulled out it trickled from her anus and down her
inner thigh. Every part of her ached.

He rolled onto his back on the
bed.

"You're right, slave," he murmured,
"'tis for the best I keep my eye upon you. I'll keep you a while
yet. Until I grow tired of you."

She was still struggling to get her
breath back and make sense of this rough, animalistic thing she'd
allowed him to do to her. And she was embarrassed that she'd
begged. What a blow for the feminist inside her. "You said you
would remove my collar."

"That was if you behaved. I find that
you did not."

"I have done nothing against you," she
protested. "What have I done? I even begged you, just the way you
wanted!"

He considered this for a moment, his
gaze searching the ceiling, as if he might find evidence there of
her guilt. "You did not beg me very nicely. And you climaxed,
slave, before I gave you permission. You lack the humility I expect
in my slaves."

She was outraged. "Before you gave me
permission!? You bastard! I'll never—"