The Purity of Rome

[jessmartin]

The Purity of Rome.png

The Purity of Rome
She was the envy of Rome, the most desired woman in the Empire. But that was in her father’s villa, Senator Flavius’, or beneath the gilded ceilings of Augustus’s palace, where silks and jewels barely contained a body that was the center of everyone’s gaze.

In those bacchanalia, where lust and debauchery reigned supreme, she remained untouchable. Desired by all, invited time and again to join in... but she never did.

Everyone imagined she harbored dark secrets. It was inconceivable that a young woman with a body like hers would not give in to passion. She didn’t mind touching herself or brazenly showing off, but always in the most absolute solitude.

I never imagined that it would be me—a mere legionnaire, invited to a palace party thanks to my exploits in the powerful imperial army’s latest campaign—who would uncover that secret.

And I didn’t discover it in any private chamber of the palace, nor in any hidden garden. I did so in the city’s most sordid brothel, where the most beautiful slaves offered their bodies so that men like me could fulfill our darkest fantasies.

I left the party shortly before the official part concluded. I was invited to the after-party, to enjoy the slaves the Emperor had personally selected. Who knows, perhaps I could enjoy one of the patrician women who had the good sense to stay and surrender to the dark passions of the night.

I wasn’t interested in them. Neither the slaves nor the foolish patrician women could give me what I truly craved… besides, while the party was still going on, I had already fucked a slave and two of those patrician women.

Of the three fucks, the best was with the slave girl. Not because she was the tightest or because she was trained in the arts of pleasure; she was a simple servant, tasked with serving dinner, and surely didn’t expect to get fucked that night. She gave herself to me completely, and the two orgasms that shook her body were real.

In contrast, the first patrician’s were pure theater. She was a senator’s wife, a woman in her forties with big tits that turned red after she used them to grab me while I pounded her from behind. Her screams and moans made me nervous; I feared someone might discover us. However, the two people who saw us simply smiled, as if they were used to seeing her in similar situations.

I didn’t get to cum. The purse of coins she gave me as payment is exactly what’s going to let me enjoy a whore at the place I’m heading to.

The third fuck was the most satisfying. Not only because of the patricia’s tight, almost virgin pussy, but because of how it happened and who the protagonist was: the forty-something woman’s daughter.

She must have been spying on us while we fucked. When the screaming woman disappeared into the palace corridors, a slender redhead with a face full of freckles emerged from her hiding place and lunged at me, her face red with anger and something else I would discover later. She tried to slap me, but I stopped her arm, twisted it behind her back, and shoved her toward an open door.

“Let me go, you bastard!” she screamed, trying to break free from my grip. “When I tell my father that you raped his wife and tell him how you’ve treated me, you’re finished.”

Her words came as a surprise; she was completely different from her mother: thin, slender, with curly hair, and all her exposed skin dotted with cute freckles.

“Your mother’s a slut,” I replied coldly. “And I’m sure your father knows exactly how she likes to have fun,” I added, pushing her onto the bed in the middle of the room.

I didn’t plan on doing anything to her. I just wanted to lock her in that room to keep her from causing a scene that might get me in trouble. But after not coming while fucking her mother, the feel of her young body made me hard again.

“And you’re just as much of a slut as she is,” I shouted, grabbing her breasts through the silk she was wearing and feeling her hard nipples against the fabric. “You could have stopped me. But no, you wanted to watch me fuck your mother.”

I quickly scanned the entire room. When I found what I was looking for, I loosened my grip for a few seconds to grab it. The young woman tried to get up, but all she managed was to roll over, doing part of the work for me and allowing me to easily tie her up with the leather straps I’d found.

Accustomed to subduing the barbaric blondes from the north bank of the Rhine, armed with daggers and capable of slitting my throat at the slightest lapse in attention, tying up the pampered patrician was a matter of seconds. When I stood up, her arms and legs were stretched out and secured to the wooden legs of the bed. The flimsy silks had torn during the struggle: one of her breasts, slightly scratched, was exposed, though I couldn’t help but look further down.

The fine fabrics had ridden up, exposing her pussy. A perfectly shaved and lightly made-up pussy that immediately drew my gaze to it. A pussy speckled with freckles that glistened, looked swollen, and bore traces of juices, making it clear that the offended young woman had been masturbating while watching me fuck her mother.

I brought two of my fingers to her sex. They slid in easily, and though I expected some protest from the young woman, what escaped her mouth was an intense moan of pleasure. Instinctively, her hips rose to better feel my touch.

“It seems you’re not quite as slutty as your mother yet. You’re pretty tight,” I said, moving my fingers inside her. “I’m going to really enjoy making you mine.”

I fingered young Patricia for a few minutes, not stopping until I brought her to the peak of pleasure. She was just as loud as her mother, but in that closed room, no one was going to hear her. As she recovered from her climax, I untied her ankles, lifted her legs, and bent them over her body, leaving her obscenely open. Seconds later, I was pushing my way inside her, bringing her to another loud climax.

It didn’t take long for me to come and fill her womb with my seed. But that didn’t stop me. I kept taking her for another half hour before pulling out and unloading onto her face and tits. Exhausted by the half-dozen orgasms she’d had, she couldn’t do anything to stop me from pinning her legs to the bed again and, using a piece of silk from her ruined dress, gagging her.

“I’ll be in Rome for a fortnight,” I told her, as I wiped myself with the remains of the dress. “I was thinking of buying a slave and then selling her, but I have a better idea.”

Terror flashed across the young woman’s face, as if she had known what I was going to say.

“Tomorrow, a Praetorian I know will come to untie you and take you to the island where I’m staying. Though I’m sure he’ll fuck you first,” I explained. “If you behave yourself for those fifteen days, maybe I won’t sell you as a slave and will let you go home.”
***
During the long half-hour journey from the imperial palace to my destination, I don’t pass a single soul. The intense March cold makes going out on the streets unwise, both during the day and, especially, at night. For me, having spent the last two winters in the cold lands of Germania, the temperature is even pleasant, though of course, having a couple of blonde slaves to use every night also helped keep me warm.

I let out a half-smile as I approach the building: an ancient temple of Venus destroyed by fire and rebuilt as the most infamous brothel in the Eternal City.

I had never been to Rome, and I couldn’t care less about what goes on there. But ever since the tribune of my legion brought me to this nameless brothel on the day of our arrival, I have visited it every night, reveling in its hidden and forbidden pleasures.

As soon as I walk through the large wooden door carved with scenes of orgies and bacchanalia, all eyes turn to me, especially those of the slave girls who work there. Since my first visit, I’ve become the object of their desire. They couldn’t care less about the way I fuck and play with their bodies. Most of the clients behave the same way, but they’re old patricians incapable of staying hard for more than five minutes or bringing them to orgasm. I, on the other hand, am a muscular thirty-year-old legionnaire, with an eight-inches cock that’s always hard, and I know how to make those sluts cum and beg me to stop.

Although I know for sure that I want Lidia—the Iberian slave with olive skin and long jet-black hair, whom I enjoy so much on each of my visits—I decide to wander among the various women while I have a few glasses of strong Spanish wine. An elixir far more suited to my tastes than the watered-down brew the emperor serves at his parties.

I’m not looking for anything in particular. Just an unknown slave girl I haven’t seen before. One of those Roman patrician women who, so they say, visit this den in secret to be treated and defiled like a common slave.

I find nothing interesting. I see several anonymous “slaves”—patrician women past their prime and a few pounds overweight—being taken by one or two men while their husbands watch, with one of the real slaves kneeling between their legs, tending to their flaccid cocks. I’m about to leave in search of Lidia when I spot a half-open door. Something strange in a place like this, where privacy doesn’t exist.

I open the door slightly and look inside. What I see makes me hard immediately. She’s not a slave; she’s not wearing a collar or any mark. But she’s not a patrician like the ones I’ve seen before either. Her body, darkened and gleaming with layers of oil, is perfect.

She’s kneeling on the floor, legs spread wide, dripping onto the black marble. Her hands grip the skinny, muscle-less thighs of the man standing in front of her. Her firm, round tits, with their hard nipples, sway to the rhythm set by her head moving back and forth, swallowing without any difficulty something so small and thin it can’t even be called a cock.

The sight of that ridiculous scene makes my blood boil and stirs my rage. That slut comes to a place like this to be treated like a slave, but she doesn’t dare to play rough. She must be someone very influential for them to let her do this in private… someone who, for her own good, won’t tell anyone what I’m planning to do to her.

I enter the room and close the door. I make barely a sound, just enough for her to turn and look at me. I freeze in recognition. She may have dyed her hair black and darkened her skin so no one will recognize her, but those two blue eyes that light up her face are unmistakable. I know it well: I haven’t stopped staring at them during dinner at the palace.

It’s Claudia Flavia; I’ve been observing her porcelain skin, her blonde hair, and her slender body all night. My position allowed me to see perfectly her endless legs on the divan, elongated by the gold-threaded sandals reaching to her knees—the same ones she’s still wearing now. The white silk dress that hugged the curves of her thighs, the shape of her hips, and how it opened into an impossible neckline.

Every time I looked at her, I saw her touching herself discreetly, watching the enormous virility of the Nubian slaves, who, like statues in a pagan temple, stood motionless, waiting for the emperor’s command to begin moving among the guests.

Her body, anointed with aromatic oils, soon began to glisten in the heat of the bonfires that filled the hall. Though the sheen on her pussy was due to the arousal she felt.

Whenever I looked at her, I imagined ripping her dress off, pushing her to the ground, and thrusting into her, as if she were one of the dozens of barbarian captives I’ve possessed over these two years of campaigning.

“You can’t be here,” shouts the shadow of a man, looking at me in fear. More concerned with everything around him than with enjoying the jewel kneeling at his feet.

“I’ll leave if she asks me to,” I reply, leaning casually against the wall. “But I don’t think she will.”

“Why wouldn’t I ask you?” Claudia asks. She tilts her head back and releases the cock. A thread of saliva connects it to her mouth until it breaks and falls onto her tits.

“Because I can give you what you’ve come here for, and none of those idiots dare to give it to you,” I reply. “My skin may not be as dark as that of those Nubian slaves you were staring at at the party,” I add, not caring if his identity is revealed. “But my cock is just as big as theirs, and it’ll make you drool the moment you see it.”

“Let him stay and let the slave girl attend to him,” Claudia says, putting that ridiculous piece of meat back in her mouth.

As if everything had been planned, it’s Lidia, the Iberian slave who would be fucking me right now if I hadn’t stumbled upon this scene, who emerges from the shadows of the room with a smile. She kneels at my feet, frees my cock, and begins to stroke it with her soft hands.

Claudia’s eyes, which haven’t stopped staring at me, widen at the sight of the size of my manhood. Her body shudders slightly, and her hand instinctively slides between her thighs.

It doesn’t take Lidia long to take it into her mouth. She doesn’t swallow it whole at first, but after moving her head back and forth several times, her lips end up kissing my pubic hair.

“You can take the slave’s place if you dare,” I say to Claudia, challenging her with my gaze. “Though I doubt you’re capable of giving me half the pleasure she does.”

Claudia’s face lights up with rage. That wasn’t my intention with my words, but it worked perfectly. She removes her hands from the man’s legs and steps back slightly. The tiny cock, now free, loses its hardness instantly and ejaculates onto the black marble. The proud patrician girl is about to get up, but I stop her, putting all my eggs in one basket.

“Crawl like the bitch you are,” I order her.

Claudia hesitates. She looks at the man, hoping he’ll react somehow, that he’ll confront me. But after coming, he doesn’t seem to care what happens and disappears into the shadows from which Lidia emerged.

“What are you waiting for?” I say, grabbing the Iberian brunette’s head as I thrust my hips violently to fuck her mouth. Giving Claudia a clear picture of what awaits her.

Lowering her gaze, Claudia rests her hands on the floor and begins to crawl toward me. Her tits sway heavily as she moves, and her pussy drips onto the black marble, leaving a shiny trail.

I push Lidia aside and hand her a coin. When she stands up, I give her firm ass a hard slap that makes her scream and jump a little. I smile and focus all my attention on Claudia, who is already kneeling at my feet, my cock brushing against her cheek.

“Last chance,” I tell her, moving my hips so my cock slaps her face and splatters her with drops of precum. “If you go through with this, you’ll be mine all night. I’ll do to you everything I planned to do to Lidia: fuck you, spank you, sodomize you, and treat you like the slut you’ve fantasized about being so many times.”

As her only response, Claudia leans her head forward and sticks out her tongue to lick my glans. At first she does it slowly, circling it completely, then she speeds up her movements, licking it greedily. She kisses the entire length down to the base, takes my testicles into her mouth, and draws an intense moan from me.

I’ve enjoyed dozens of whores and hundreds of slaves, some trained and others inexperienced, but what Claudia makes me feel, I’ve never felt before. Pleasure overwhelms me and I lose control. I grab her hair tightly and push her to the floor, lifting her ass high in the air. I spread her buttocks with both hands and penetrate her in one thrust. Her vagina resists the intrusion and her screams make it clear that, though she may not be a virgin, she has never had a cock like mine inside her.

Grabbing her hips tightly and begin to thrust into her deeply. Her screams soon turn into animalistic moans. Her hips, whether out of instinct or surrender, move backward in rhythm with my thrusts, squeezing my cock tightly.

When she cums amid her screams, her pussy tightens around me. I explode too, filling her insides with thick spurts of cum.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” I say as I fasten a slave collar around her neck and attach a leash to force her to crawl behind me.

Leadin Claudia through the ancient temple, her breath ragged from the orgasm and her crotch oozing a thick mixture of fluids that runs down her thighs. I want everyone who has ever played with her, those who have felt her lips wrapping around their cock—and I’m sure none of them went any further—to see what they’ve missed out on by not daring to take the plunge.

If I were to stop now and invite them to fuck her, they’d pounce on her like a pack of hungry hyenas.

As we venture deeper into the building, the marble floors give way to muddy earth. This area consists of the remains of the old burned-down temple, which remained intact, and given their previous use, the new owners decided to leave them just as they were.

Every single day I’ve visited the brothel and made my way here, I’ve asked myself the same question: What were dungeons filled with chains, rack-and-pinion devices, and restraints doing in a temple dedicated to the goddess Venus?

When we stop in front of a door blackened by smoke, Claudia’s body looks completely different from what I saw when I peeked into the room. Mud stains her legs up to her thighs, her arms up to her elbows. Her breasts and face are also covered in dark smudges.

I pull the door handle with my free hand. The wood and rusty hinges creak with a long, sinister sound as it swings open. The cold, damp air from inside hits us full force, causing Claudia’s body to shudder.

We cross the threshold. The light of the full moon filtering through the narrow windows carved into the rock, along with the flickering of the torches, gives the cave a strange appearance, similar to poets’ descriptions of Hades. A perfect foretaste of the hell the proud patrician is about to experience.

I have to pull hard to get Claudia to follow me inside. She has frozen, terror reflected in her eyes at the sight before her. I don’t think she ever imagined a place like this, not even in her darkest fantasies.

I didn’t imagine it either, and that’s saying something, since my own fantasies—many of which have come true—are far darker than hers.

The dungeon is dirty and damp, with parts of the walls crumbling and the ceilings cracked, but everything else is new and clean, ready for use. Dozens of shiny chains hang everywhere, allowing a slave to be restrained in an almost infinite variety of positions. The wood of the racks, crosses, and pillories smells of the oils that soak into them. That scent mingles with that of the leather whips and straps, and with the wax of the candles.

But above all else, another, more primal scent prevails: that of sex, arousal, fear, and humiliation. A scent that is already beginning to emanate clearly from Claudia.

Not lingering at any of the devices. I walk straight to the center of the dungeon, where a large well overflows with crystal-clear water that, so they say, comes from the sacred springs of the Muses. Although, given what happens here, it’s easier to believe that it springs directly from the icy waters of the Underworld.

Grabbing Claudia by the arm and throw her in without a second thought. The icy water covers her up to her neck, drawing a muffled scream from her.

As she splashes her way out, protesting and shivering, I calmly undress, grab a bowl of ash paste and a rough sponge, and step into the well. I’m going to wash her before I take her again. I’m not just going to remove the mud covering her legs, arms, and tits. I’m also going to wash away the oils that darken her skin and the black dye that colors her hair.

I don’t want to fuck the brunette slut who hangs out in this dive. I’ve already claimed her, already used her mouth, and already came in her pussy. I want the untouchable blonde Patricia, the pale-skinned, golden-haired goddess everyone desires at the palace parties.

Claudia resists my caresses and the rough touch of the sponge and ashes. I’m sure her body has always been bathed by slaves, using the most expensive oils from the East and the most elaborate aromatic salts. I don’t think anyone has ever touched her the way I’m doing it now.

I know how to quell her resistance, how to silence her protests.

I move a hand down to her sex, slip two fingers inside, and scoop out the remaining semen still inside her. I twist them, stretch them, and thrust them in hard, drawing her first moans. When my thumb strokes her clitoris—swollen from the cold and arousal—she comes in my arms, completely forgetting any resistance.

When I pull her out of the water, her body is red, both from the cold of the well and from the rough sponge’s friction. Her hair, now back to its natural blonde, glistens wet in the light of the torches. My cock throbs hard from the contact with her body.

“We left something unfinished in the room,” I say in a hoarse voice, pulling the collar down to force her to kneel in front of me.

All of Claudia’s nerves, all her fears, seem to vanish the moment she has my cock in front of her. The slut hiding beneath the silks emerges with wild eagerness. If earlier, in the bedroom, she worked slowly and hesitantly, now she takes it into her mouth greedily, swallowing it to the hilt and pushing her head forward to try to go further.

If in the bedroom I pulled out of her mouth so I wouldn’t cum, now I want her to savor every last drop of my cum. I hold her head and, with a loud grunt, start to unload into her throat. Claudia swallows with difficulty, her eyes rolling back from the lack of air, but like the good whore she is, when my cock leaves her mouth, she leaves it clean and shiny, licking up the few drops she wasn’t able to swallow.

“You’re a great slut, Claudia,” I tell her, looking down at her. “You could make a fortune using that skilled mouth of yours. Though of course, who would pay you when they could just put a collar on you and make that money for themselves?”

Looking around the dungeon, hesitating over my next move. It’ll take me a while to get hard again and treat her the way she deserves. So it’s time to have some fun and cover her body in hot wax and then whip it. It’ll be the perfect break.

“Resist if you want,” I tell her as I drag her toward the rack, place her on the cold wood, and secure her wrists and ankles with leather straps. “The more you do it, the sooner I’ll get hard again and fuck you once more.”

With a leather whip, I slowly caress her entire body. The redness from her skin has already faded, which is perfect for playing with the hot wax. But first, I want to bring her to another orgasm, so her skin is more sensitive, more vulnerable to my games.

I never touch her with my hands. I use the leather straps to arouse her, harden her nipples, and clamp them with wooden clamps. The scream that escapes her mouth is a mixture of pain and pleasure that echoes through the dungeon.

Without letting her recover, I strike her crotch with the whip. It doesn’t take long for her to get wet; the leather becomes heavier and more pliable, and each lash sounds more obscene, leaving deeper, shinier marks on her skin.

When her breasts, belly, and thighs are covered in red marks, I bring the whip’s handle to her slit. Claudia hasn’t been able to see it, but it’s made of white ivory with a rough texture and a rounded widening at the base, perfect for the use I have in mind.

I penetrate her slowly with the ivory handle. Her labia part as it passes, the ridges brush against her walls and press against her clitoris, drawing out loud moans from her. The handle is as thick as my cock, but much longer: a thirteen-inch ivory handle that I intend to bury completely inside her.

Claudia’s body tenses violently against the restraints. Her moans change pitch as the ivory rod pushes deeper and deeper into her, invading her mercilessly. The first orgasm hits her when it’s “barely” seven inches inside her, shaking her with brutal force. The second comes around ten inches in, deeper and more wrenching, tearing a hoarse scream from her. The third explodes as the first drops of hot wax fall onto her erect nipples and, shortly after, onto her swollen, soaking wet pussy.

Without stopping my penetration with the thick ivory handle, I continue pouring hot wax onto her skin, now extremely sensitive after the bursts of pleasure. Tears of pleasure and pain stream down her cheeks as muffled pleas escape her mouth. I don’t know if she’s begging me to stop… or to never stop.

When the last candle burns out in my hand, I pull the handle out with a sharp jerk. I grab the ivory, soaked in her juices, and begin to whip her body mercilessly. Chunks of wax fly off with every blow, exposing her reddened skin. It takes me nearly half an hour of intense whipping to make every trace of the wax disappear.

Claudia is exhausted after coming over and over again. But I’m hard again, ready to fuck her. I untie the restraints from the rack. Her freedom lasts barely a few seconds—just long enough for me to lift her in my arms and carry her to the center of the dungeon, where several chains hang from the ceiling. I secure her wrists and ankles, leaving her suspended in the air, spread open for me, ready to receive my cock.

All these nights I’ve fucked Lidia in a similar position. Although my feelings were different—I didn’t have the urgency I have now—I wanted to give the Iberian slave the pleasure those fat, old patricians are incapable of giving her. With Claudia, however, I want to possess her completely, erase any trace of the proud patrician.

Spreading her pussy with my fingers, thrusting three of them in roughly. She’s stretched from the size of the whip’s handle and raw from the numerous orgasms. I don’t know who had the pleasure of deflowering her and lying with her before me, nor do I care. But one thing is clear to me: after my cock and the ivory phallus have passed through her, she will only find pleasure with one of those Nubian “snakes” that excited her so much at the palace parties.

I pull my fingers out of her, completely soaked in her juices. I bring my index finger to her tight anus—untouched by any penetration—and as soon as I insert a single phalanx, I feel it clench around me, preventing me from pulling it out.

“That can wait,” I tell myself, withdrawing my finger with a cruel smile, watching as the hole closes again.

Placing the tip of my cock at the entrance to her pussy and, gripping her firm thighs tightly, digging my fingers into her white flesh, I thrust my hips violently and penetrate her in one stroke. The chains swing, clinking in the silence of the dungeon, mingling with Claudia’s wild moans as she cums without any control, like the bitch in heat I’ve turned her into.

I come again, but embraced by her insides, I stay hard and keep sinking into her. My hands release her hips and seize her tits. I squeeze them, pinch them. I pull on her nipples without stopping until my fingers leave marks all over her firm flesh.

I could spend hours fucking Claudia, but the first light of dawn is seeping into the dungeon. I must let her return home or take her to my island and use her alongside the redhead for the fifteen days I have left in Rome. But I’ll make that decision later; now there’s one last thing I must do.

When I release her chains, Claudia falls into my arms, her body covered in sweat and red marks. Her face radiates a strange happiness. She has found her place, and even if she tries, she won’t be able to return to her normal life. She’ll keep coming to the brothel, submitting more and more each day, giving herself over to her dark fantasies, until one day someone puts a collar on her, chains her to a bed, and won’t let her go.

Or perhaps at the next palace party, she’ll decide to play at surrendering to Caesar’s pleasures and finally try one of those Nubian cocks she craves so much—cocks that turn the slut who enjoys them into a branded slave.

Carring Claudia in my arms to the pillory. Unlike the other devices, it’s ancient; its wood has been blackened by the passage of centuries—it’s surely as old as the ancient temple of Venus. I set her down on the ground for a moment while I open the pillory; she rests her head on my thigh, seeking a refuge that doesn’t exist.

Struggling with the top of the stocks. The wood creaks; it hasn’t been opened in years; I need both hands to lift the worn plank. The beautiful blonde pleads with me with her gaze, her blue eyes fixed on mine as she shakes her head from side to side in a silent, desperate refusal. Aware of what I’m about to do to her.

I lift her off the ground effortlessly, feeling the heat still emanating from her battered skin. I place her arms and head in the designated slots and slam the wooden lid shut. I don’t need to secure it with the iron bolt; Claudia couldn’t open it even at the height of her strength, much less now, exhausted and weakened by all the orgasms I’ve wrung from her.

I step back, watching her. Exposed. Her ass raised toward me, like a sacrifice to the gods. Her white, trembling flesh stands out against the darkness of the old wood. Her breasts sway slightly beneath the plank, and her ragged breathing is the only sound competing with the crackling of the torches.

It’s not the first ass I’ve deflowered. In Germania and on the borders of the Danube, I’ve deflowered dozens of them. I love using that tight hole on my captives. Often I don’t even use their pussies; especially if they’re virgins and I can make more denarii by selling them to the traffickers in Rome. A blonde slave who retains her virtue is worth double on the market, but nobody cares about her back hole, and I enjoy it as the victor’s tribute.

I want to be careful with Claudia; I don’t want to break her. I want to use her over the next few days. Then I’ll find someone in the Subura and sell her—her and the redhead. With the money I get for a couple of barely used patrician girls, I’ll be able to buy a dozen slaves in Germania.

Searching for something to use as lubricant in the shadows of the dungeon. Near one of the racks, I find a small amphora filled with a thick, dark oil, usually used to clean the chains and prevent rust from seizing the gears. It won’t be clean, nor will it smell of the Eastern essences she’s used to anointing herself with. For the purpose I intend to use it for, it’ll do just fine.

Dipping my fingers into the viscous liquid. The smell of metal and rancid smell fills the air as I approach the pillory. Claudia, with her head trapped in the wood, can’t see me, but the look on her face shows that the stench has hit her.

“I could wait until we reach my island to enjoy your ass,” I whisper as I spread her buttocks to expose her small, puckered ring. “But it wouldn’t be as much fun; there I don’t have a pillory to tie you to and sodomize you.”

I begin to apply the dirty oil to her anus. I feel her body tense; a shiver runs through her skin as she feels the cold, oily touch of the lubricant. I begin to press with my thumb, opening her tightness with a patience that surprises even me. My fingers soil her white skin, marking it in a way that even the icy water of the well will hardly be able to erase.

Claudia lets out a muffled moan against the wood. There is nothing left of the untouchable Patricia of the palace. Now she is my slave, immobilized in an old wooden stocks, being lubricated with dirty oil to receive my cock in her ass.

Unlike a little while ago when I fucked her pussy while she hung from the chains with wild laughter and raw violence. Now I want to take my time. I place my oil-slicked cock at the entrance to her ass, grip the edges of the stocks, and push my hips forward little by little. The oil does its job, allowing me to slide millimeter by millimeter into her tight hole.

I feel Claudia hold her breath, her body tensing against the constant invasion

“Relax, Claudia,” I whisper, as my left hand slides down her belly. “I promise you’re going to enjoy this a lot.”

I find her clitoris, swollen and throbbing. I start rubbing it with my thumb. It’s a skilled, rhythmic caress, designed to push her to the limit as my cock thrusts deeper into her ass.

A cry of pain is followed by a moan of pleasure. Confused by the sensations, Claudia shakes her head from side to side, trying to deny that her body, her mind, her whole being is enjoying the humiliation.

My cock is completely inside her, and she isn’t even aware of it. I begin to move inside her, slowly, stretching her skin with each thrust while my hand picks up the pace over her pussy.

I’m forcing her to come. Her hips move, seeking more pressure, more pleasure. Finally, her body explodes. Violent spasms shake her, and Claudia lets out a heart-wrenching scream against the old wood, clinging to me with a force that almost makes me lose control. She’s mine. It will take her a while to realize it. But she is.

After the orgasm, I pick up the pace. There’s no more gentleness; I pull out almost completely and thrust back in hard. Claudia responds with a moan, a scream, a new explosion. Her moans fade; she has no strength left for anything. I lean over her, pressing my chest against her sweat-soaked back, and sink my teeth into her shoulder, marking her physically as my cock reaches the bottom of her tight canal again and again.

I’m at my limit. With one last savage thrust, I sink in one final time. An animalistic growl escapes my throat as I come inside her. As I slowly withdraw from her dilated anus, a thick, obscene mixture begins to ooze out: my semen, white and thick, mingling with the black oil.

I stand still for a moment, gazing at her body as I catch my breath. Then I climb into the pit and wash my body of any trace of what has happened. Claudia won’t be so lucky; anyone we come across will know that the slave has been well used by her Master.

Releasing Claudia from the pillory, and she collapses onto the dungeon floor. I don’t let her recover. I tighten the leather strap, forcing her to lift her head.

“Up, slave,” I order coldly. “We have a long way home.”

“You won’t get away with this,” she tells me in a final act of defiance. “Someone will see us and realize what’s happening.”

“I’m sure someone will,” I reply. “And they’ll smile with envy that they aren’t the one who owns a slave like you. You forget that in the last week, nearly a thousand Germanic slaves—most of them blond like you—have been sold in the markets. War booty. Everyone will think you’re one of those barbarian beauties.”

We crossed the rooms of the brothel without meeting anyone. When I stepped outside, the first light of dawn was peeking through the cloudy sky. Normally, in Germania, after days without seeing the sun, it would be a revitalizing sensation. But now, after everything I’ve done tonight, it blinds me and drives me to hide in the shadows.

Only when those rays of sunlight hit Claudia’s body and make the red marks that still cover her skin glow do I regain control. Without letting go of the worn leather leash , I start walking, forcing her to follow me across the muddy ground left by the rain that must have fallen on the city while I was making her mine.

We’ve barely walked a few blocks when I hear the sound of footsteps and metal scraping against leather. I know that sound well, though the one I hear is slightly different. As we round a corner, I see them coming toward us: a dozen Praetorian guards in their dark cloaks and gleaming armor. Their faces are covered by black scarves, which reveals that they are on a mission ordered by the emperor himself.

I let go of Claudia’s leash and turn around to try to flee. Another dozen guards arrive from behind, blocking any escape route. A growl of frustration escapes my lips as I reach for my belt and find nothing. They took the dagger I always carry when I entered the palace.

It’s not that I expected to defeat the Praetorians, but at least if I attacked them, there was a chance that one of them might end my life and thus spare me the torture that undoubtedly awaits me for what I’ve done to Claudia.

I don’t care much about dying. I’ve been on the brink of death dozens of times in Germania. Dying after having enjoyed the most desired woman in Rome doesn’t seem like such a bad end to me.

My thoughts distract me enough that I don’t notice several of the guards coming from behind haven’t stopped like the rest and are very close to me. So close that, when I try to turn around, one of them strikes me on the head with the blunt end of his pilum—a sharp blow that knocks me unconscious instantly.
***

A hard kick to the stomach snaps me out of my unconsciousness, followed by another to the ribs. I don’t try to get up. I curl up into a ball and hug myself to try to protect myself from more blows.

“Get up, pig,” one of my attackers yells at me. “Your fate awaits you.”

I wait a few seconds, until the blows stop raining down on me, before getting up. First I look up and see two Praetorians staring at me and smiling. Anticipating the pleasure of what lies ahead.

I feel a little dizzy as I sit up. My head feels like it’s going to explode, and I feel dried blood staining my skin. I follow the guards, and I’m quite surprised to realize that I’m locked up in the palace’s dungeons. We walk through the same corridors that led me to the party yesterday, and as we pass the ornate room where I raped the patrician woman, I can’t help but look at the door behind which I locked up her daughter. It’s open, and there’s no sign of the young woman.

We step out into the garden where the post-party orgy took place. There are still several slave girls strapped to some of the devices they set up for better use. Several Praetorians are taking their time enjoying them. There are at least three women not wearing collars. Judging by the remnants of their luxurious garments, they are patricians who decided to take too great a risk. The table laden with collars, various small jewels, and the brazier of burning coals containing branding irons leave no doubt as to what their fate will be.

One of the guards escorting me pushes me so I don’t stop. We cross the garden to an area covered by a golden awning. In its shade, reclining on a triclinium, with a fair-skinned blonde slave girl kneeling and tending to his cock, is Emperor Augustus.
A few feet to his right is the Praetorian I know, with the young red-haired patrician woman from last night kneeling at his feet. She is completely naked, wearing a silver slave collar and matching chains linking the collar to the rings now adorning her nipples. On the inside of her right thigh, the slave brand is visible, and in her pussy, abundant traces of semen.

“Calm down, Marcus,” the emperor says to me, holding the slave’s head to thrust deeper into her throat. “My guards have overstepped their bounds a bit. They didn’t quite understand my orders to bring you before me.”

Upon hearing the emperor’s words, my escorts step away from me, set their weapons aside, shed their armor, and join their comrades to enjoy the slaves and the bound patrician women.

“Yesterday we barely had time to speak during the feast,” the emperor remarks to me, still holding the slave girl’s head. “When I learned you were returning to Germania today, I ordered you brought before me so I could personally present you with the symbol of your promotion to optio.”

A slave approaches carrying a silver tray on which lies an ornate staff. I take it, unable to utter a word. I had expected to be executed; instead, I receive a promotion far greater than what I would deserve based on my merits on the battlefield. When I am finally able to say something, the emperor gestures with his hand and stops me.

Before continuing, a grunt escapes his mouth. His body tenses as he cums in the slave girl’s throat, then releases his grip on her head.

“Besides, I couldn’t let you leave without thanking you for letting me use your slave and see if what was said about those German beauties was true,” he adds, grabbing the slave’s hair again to lift her head.

A curse to Mars escapes my lips as I recognize her. It’s Claudia, her body cleansed of the night’s remnants, her skin glistening with oils, her hair styled and adorned with golden beads. She is not the young woman I used at my whim all night long in the brothel. She is the young woman who aroused me at the party... only now she wears a slave collar, rings piercing her nipples, and the slave brand engraved on her pubis.

“I must say, it was much better than I expected,” the emperor remarks. “A tight pussy, a tight ass, and a delicious mouth. The slut came half a dozen times, the last time while I pressed the red-hot iron against her skin and branded her as a slave.”

The emperor gestures to the slave who approached me a few moments ago to take the strap attached to the slave collar.

“As an optio, you have the right to your own tent and a slave to serve you,” says the emperor. “Now you have two slaves, but I have no doubt which one you’ll take back to Germania, so I’ll buy the other one for you,” he adds, handing a pouch of coins to the slave.

With the remnants of the emperor’s seed on her lips, Claudia, moving on her hands and knees, follows the slave to my position. I take the strap and the bag of coins from her hands and look at the emperor, waiting for him to give me permission to leave.

“You may go, Marcus,” he tells me as he positions himself behind the redhead to fuck her. “I hope that the next time you visit Rome, you’ll let me use your slave again. I’m sure she’ll already be a submissive and obedient slut, with no trace of her past as a rich, spoiled girl.”

I pull on Claudia’s leash and follow one of the Praetorians toward the palace exit. I’m not quite sure what just happened, but luck has smiled on me. Before leaving Rome, I’ll stop at the Temple of Mars and use some of the coins to make an offering to him for protecting one of his own.