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
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