In Italy, when preRoman sculpture is discovered and it is uncertain whether it is Greek or Etruscan, it has become a rule of thumb that the origin can be determined by the statue's erotic nature. In fact, some Etruscan statuary is so erotic that even today, women are not allowed to visit museums were it is kept.
Except for this surviving statuary, the history of the Etruscans is shrouded in mystery, though they dominated Italy long before Rome was founded. It is known that the Romans fought the Etruscans over many centuries, and that the struggles were bloody and bitter. We are fortunate to have this account that follows, only recently translated into English, which was written some time around the second century AD. It draws on sources available at the time, but long since lost, to record the daily life of the early Romans and Etruscans, and through its blunt honesty, we see a rare portrait of the sexual life of these ancient peoples. Much has been written of the Rome of the Caesars, of the orgies and the tortures and the wild sexual life. But there was an earlier Rome, and its sexual habits are equally as important and fascinating.
And the glimpse of the Etruscans, certainly the most erotic people ever to have inhabited Europe, is unique, though not for the squeamish. Unique also is the picture of Rome, not as mighty center of empire, but as a struggling city, groping its way toward stable government and democracy, and slowly developing the sexual practices that later were to scandalize it for all time.
And finally here is Rome, after conquering the Etruscans, and marveling at their sexual practices, as you will doubtless do, and then in the flush of victory, falling victim to the barbaric Goths, who occupy and pillage the city, and inflict their own cruel sexual habits on its free citizens.
This was the last time for eight hundred years that an enemy was to take Rome, and the Romans, when they drove the Goths from their city, set about determined to make themselves the mightiest power on earth. How well they accomplished their goal is a matter of history.
But though they were victorious over both the civilized, sensual Etruscans and the crude, lustful Goths, both these peoples and their sexual habits left marks on the Roman civilization that could be said to be responsible for its decline so many centuries later.
Here, then, is Rome at war with the great Etruscan city of Veii, in the fifth century before the birth of Christ, and here is the dying gasps of an ancient civilization nearly unknown today, a civilization whose only surviving artifacts mark it as the most unique to ever inhabit the Western world.
P. T. BARNES, PH. D.
CHAPTER ONE
Glory to Caesar, and to the Senate and People of Rome! Herewith begins a tale of the trials and glories of our illustrious city in ancient times, when it fought bitterly for its survival against the Etruscans, those nowvanished people who fought so fiercely, and were known for their cruelty, who acquired such vast wealth, and who throughout the ancient times were known to friend and enemy alike for the excessive pursuit and bizarre practices of the pleasures of the flesh. Soon enough did they come to heel beneath the honor and courage of our Roman ancestors, and then one final tragedy must be told before my story is finished, namely how our great city was sacked and burned by the barbaric Gauls, who inflicted the worst evils of torture and rape and pillage on our citizens. To appease the virtue of honesty, no detail must be spared, and it will be seen that although moralists preaching in the Forum or the Senate of times invoke an image of ancient Rome and its times as models of virtue and discipline, nothing in fact could be farther from the truth.
With the final defeat of the Etruscans and the Gauls, our city began that climb to the zenith from which we still today look down on the rest of the world, and it was not without courage and dedication to civic duties in abundance that we reached, and have maintained, these heights. But while it can be argued that the Etruscans exercised dedication to the excesses of love to the extent that they weakened themselves and were finally defeated, it can't be denied that these pursuits of pleasure were present in the ancient Romans. It is merely that they were tempered with the civic virtues in a way the Etruscans never knew.
Much has been written of the mighty soldiers and leaders, of the illustrious senators, tribunes and consuls, of the great dictators, who led Rome through the double peril of Etruscan and Gothic cruelties, and I by no means wish to slight these men in my story. Yet in drawing on the ancient archives and tales, I have discovered that many other men have been slighted, and discovered also that the story can best be illustrated by showing how it affected the lives of the ordinary men. I have also discovered that one aspect of our great history has been almost ignored, and that is the part played by women. It is a part I intend to deal with at great length.
It is my intention that through the fabric of the people's lives, of their lusts and passions and cruelties, the tale will be told, and it will be seen how our ancestors lived and ultimately survived, and though their virtues will be indicated, and indeed, they will be obvious, so also will I show their vices. And if the latter seem at times to outweigh the former, I say that is often the nature of men, and leave the judgment to the gods.
Thus ends my argument and my plan, and here begins my story. Let it begin on a spring evening soft with the singing of birds, in both Rome, and in the nearby Etruscan city of Veii, in Rome with the quiet sighs of young people delighting in the ecstasies of love, in Veii in the screams of maidens in agency.
In our city, in a clump of bushes on the Tiber, not too far from the Forum, there rolled in each others arms a boy and a girl, he a young soldier, she a mere servant girl. She was barely sixteen, and though lovely and blessed with all those treasures of delight in breasts and buttocks that the gods bestow on the fortunate, we are not concerned with her name, for she was only one in a long line of women, who loves the soldier, and then fade into oblivion.
His name was Marcus Valerius, and ram of a lover he was, blessed with a noble and enormous instrument and the strength of a bull, as well as its endurance.
He and the maid had been walking, and then had hugged and kissed, and then, though he had but met her scant half an hour earlier, she eagerly accepted his suggestion that they lie beneath the bushes. Now they lay naked, and Marcus kissed her huge breasts, taking the nipples in his teeth to bite and pull, while his large hands roamed her thighs and then shoved against her eager, damp treasure, to bring from her soft, warm lips sighs of pleasure.
Marcus had been in the field and though he enjoyed the incredible softness of the young girl's body, and would have delighted in exploring it in detail, examining every hill and valley, his body was tense with passion from his forced celibacy, and he was soon parting the hot, squirming thighs of the maiden. And when he shoved home with his stiff instrument, there came from her lips gasps of pain, and she went stiff. But in another moment, she had adjusted to the pain, and even savored its burning inside her, and as her hard nipples tingled, she began a frenzy of motion that shook small, pink buds from the bushes and caused Marcus to sport out his desire, with her unschooled but wicked and effective gyrations.
Marcus punished her soft breasts with his hands, but his coarse squeezing of those tender, heavenly mounds gave the girl great joy, and fanned the flames that surged through her body, flames that were awakening the flames of woman in the girl. She clamped her nails into the flesh of his back, and then humped her body with amazing strength, and then she sank her perfect, white teeth into his broad shoulders.
Marcus responded by grasping her rounded buttocks and pounding furiously, twisting and jerking, but the girl matched his every move, and as she tore her teeth from his skin, she smothered his ears with hot, wet kisses, then pressed her trembling lips against his mouth, and shoved her frantic tongue through his lips. His kiss was as wild and frantic as hers, and he pounded ever more furiously, ramming his instrument until he, too, felt the sting of pain in his body.
Then all his desperate lust swelled inside him, and with one mighty thrust, he released all his pent-up passion and moaned, then collapsed on her body, his scarlet face on her heaving breasts. But only for a moment did he rest, for he had many days of physical denial to make up for, and soon he was again mounting his maiden, who was equally eager to resume their exquisite work together.
Thus did they pass an evening in spring, for Marcus like many other evenings, and later they would walk along the river, past temples and arches, talking and laughing, then after wine and food and another roll beneath the bushes, he would leave her, and return to his unit, which was due to march out again the next day, after so brief a respite from the rigors of war.
The necessities of war gripped the great Etruscan city, also, and its young men tramped from their homes to gird for battle, but the Etruscans knew well that it is foolhardy to ignore religion, and suicidal to arouse the wrath of the Gods in time of peril. So in the great temple of the mother goddess Juno, which dominated the city, a dozen neophytes were being initiated into the mysteries of the deity. so that they would continue the traditions which had brought such wealth and success to Veii.
But nothing worthwhile, and particularly nothing sacred, is easy. And well did these girls learn that on this soft evening. They were each fifteen, and each a virgin, and each lovelier than the last. In a city that worshipped the erotic acts with a passion that matched their devotion to Juno, it was only natural that the girls should soon be initiated into the practices of giving and receiving pleasure, perhaps no people known to our historians, including those uncovered in travels far to the east and south, have surpassed the Etruscans in the skill and abandon which permeated their devotion to pleasure.
Yet these things were to come later. First, the neophytes had to be taught humility and total subjugation to the priestesses who would pass on to them the ancient secrets. And also, the maidens had to learn what kind of fate befell them if they betrayed their trust and thrust their city into possible disfavor with June by an act of treason or indiscretion.
In the massive temple, with its great doors shut and locked, the young girls knelt in front of the statue of the goddess, an enormous and awesome image adorned with the most precious of jewels.
Behind them in a semicircle on gold-encrusted chairs sat the priestesses of the order, bare to their waists and their lower bodies clothed in thin cloth spun with threads of gold. The girls who kneeled in fear were naked, and at each end of their group stood a priestess, tall and stately, with a long, fierce whip in their hands.
The backs of the lovely, naked girls were witness to the blows they had received, and they fought to choke back tears and cries for mercy. For if a girl was unable to endure the punishment, not only did she risk being driven from the order to face public rebuke and possible exile, but her punishment would at the least be doubled.
One girl, the youngest by months and by far the most beautiful, listened to the ritual being read by the high priestess, and choked back tears and sobs, and clamped her lips together against the terrible pain that throbbed from the gashes on her bleeding back.
Her name was Flavia, and her story is central to my tale, for in this girl can be mirrored the life of the great Etruscan nation, and the fate of her home city of Veii.
She, like the others, had been stripped of their clothes an hour earlier, and twenty lashes had fallen on her soft, tender back, and now, as the ritual droned on, and she tasted blood from her lips, she told herself she could endure no more such pain. She came from wealthy parents and was pampered, and pain was something' she knew nothing of. She had come bravely to the temple, proud to be selected. But from the moment the first lash cut into her back, she had screamed silently to her outraged body that she had made a terrible mistake. Then the droning voice ceased abruptly, and Flavia looked up in horror as the high priestess, a woman of forty who still retained great beauty, and whose body was still perfectly formed, with particularly impressive breasts, still proud and firm, and now standing bare, with gigantic, dark nipples topping them, picked up a strange and frightening instrument from the altar where burned the sacred flame.
"Listen well, neophytes," the priestess intoned, and it seemed to Flavia the flame leaped wildly with her every word. "On this night, you are dedicating your lives to the service of the goddess June, mother of all the gods. You each retain your virginity. It is the most precious thing you possess. No mortal man could be allowed to take it from you. To conform to the sacred and ancient ritual, it must be sacrificed here, before the goddess."
Flavia was weak with fear, so frightened, indeed, that tears streamed down her cheeks and her vision was hazy for a few moments. When she finally cleared her vision, the priestess had moved to the first of the girls, a small, lovely thing with huge, dark eyes and perfect legs and thighs and buttocks, but whose breasts were small.
Flavia gasped as she realized the instrument the priestess held resembled the instrument of a man, but larger than that of a mortal man. In that instant she knew well what awaited her, and she wondered if she could possibly endure the shock and pain and humiliation of surrendering her virginity in that way.
The first girl was ordered to lie back and spread her own thighs with her trembling hands, and when she was slow to obey, a quick slash of the whip across her buttocks caused her to whine and scramble into position.
Flavia watched, her eyes wide with fear and a strange fascination as the priestess chanted something and made a strange sign with her free hand. The flames that lit the temple swirled about, as though blown by a hidden wind, and the other priestesses started chanting something behind the girls. A cloud of exotic, red incense floated from behind the base of the huge, shadowed statue of Juno and Flavia strained around to see the ritual sacrifice of her companion's virginity, a sacrifice she would be called on to endure in a few minutes.
The girl was sprawled on her back, her slender thighs spread wide, her lovely face contorted and sweating with the anticipation of pain and humiliation. The high priestess bent down, and with a hand on one of the girl's thighs, she got to her knees. Then she slowly, methodically, and with great skill engineered the replica of the man's instrument between the quivering thighs. The girl shrieked with the first thrust, and her face went white, then red.
With fascination and repulsion, Flavia watched the enormous instrument disappear in the midst of the girl's unspoiled treasure, and her own body seemed to close against itself in a vicarious defense, and her muscles throbbed and contracted. Yet, her nipples tingled in a way she had never known, and there was the strangest tickling sensation in her loins.
Then the jerking, groaning girl's face became a mask of terror, and Flavia could no longer stare at hre. She turned away, and nibbled at her lower lip, as the pain from her raw, bleeding back coursed through her body.
The incense was strong and sweet, and it repelled and choked the poor girl, yet aroused her in a way she did not understand. She was aching and frightened, and repulsed and excited, and all her pride at being chosen had vanished, and she wanted only to be again a normal girl, outside the temple.
The high priestess had finished with the first girl, who lay sobbing on the floor, her body still jerking from the terrible onslaught she had endured. The next girl was shaking and spreading her thighs, and the chanting continued and Flavia watched the dancing flames and thought of the many ordeals ahead, but for the first time, she was deeply troubled by the true meaning of being a priestess, namely that it meant denial of a normal life, meant that never could she marry or have a man, never again carry on the flirtations or steal the quick, hot kisses from boys she liked.
Now the girl next to her was whimpering, and twisting, and Flavia's heart raced and her face went scarlet and sweat dropped from her body. Without thinking, she drew her thighs together, as though this gesture would protect her. She shivered, yet was hot, and the animal sounds coming from the girl who was enduring the ritual aroused in her self-pity, yet disgust.
And then the high priestess was kneeling in front of her. Flavia looked into the woman's beautiful, stern face, and slowly got into position. She lay back on the cold marble floor, and her back throbbed with the pain. Then she took her hands and spread her golden thighs, her whole body rigid, her wide blue eyes bulging with apprehension, her blond hair in tangles about her sweating face and forehead.
The priestess chanted, and slid the wicked instrument forward. Flavia looked away and bit her lips, and dug her nails into her hands. As the hard, cold instrument touched her burning thighs, she jerked and gasped. She checked the panic swelling in her, checked the sudden and urgent desire to flee.
Then the alien instrument was being slid back and forth, and Flavia whined and the pain was white hot, yet her body glowed with a newfound pleasure which greatly shocked her.
She clamped her eyes shut and her nails drew blood from her palms and an agony beyond description, tempered by the new, wicked pleasure, gripped her entire body. She heard herself snorting out hot breath in rhythm with the movements of the high priestess' hand.
Then, abruptly, the instrument was withdrawn, and Flavia whimpered and opened her eyes, and curled her body up. But all the strange new feelings of pain and pleasure soared through her body, and she jerked beyond control and heard the moans of the girl next to her, and knew, though she cursed herself, that she wished the instrument would be returned to her own loins.
Soon, all girls had been duly sacrificed, and the initiation ended, for that night, and the girls were given food and wine, then led to their bedchambers.
CHAPTER TWO
And thus has the story begun, with the motions and sounds of love and lust in Rome and Veii. But beyond the river bush love nest and the sacred temple, the cities furthered another passion strong as lust or love, the passion of hatred.
A long and bitter series of wars had ignited the flames of hatred now to such heights that everyone knew that one city or the another, in defeat, would be utterly annihilated and subjugated. Life went on, as life must always, and lovers kept rendezvous and girls were initiated into strange rites, still armies marched and men died and suffered.
For these wars were not merely for territory or tribute, but were wars of culture, as later was the one with the Goths, and it was certain that the winner would want to utterly eliminate his hated enemy and all traces that his way of life had ever existed on earth. Even now, only fragments remain of the life of the people of Veii and the Etruscans in general, and I may say in all candor we are fortunate to have even these scraps.
But they are sufficient, and thus can we know of Flavia's initiation and of what followed. For our own people, of course, that is not so much of a problem. For always have the Romans excelled in excellent and illustrious historians and men of letters. And even when their morality caused them to hint at things that fully belong in any complete history, knowing what we do enables us to fill in the gasps.
But I digress from my tale. We were speaking of Rome and Veii and the terrible and costly wars that would ultimately end a great civilization. During that spring, fortune seemed to be favoring the Romans, and a sense of urgency and even desperation permeated the councils of the Etruscans. They abhorred the idea of a king at this time, preferring to be ruled by councils, yet the necessity of winning a war and the reality of the discipline that must be enforced led them to appoint a king, as a last resort.
Ah, and now this stroke of fortune was ultimately to aid the Romans, and how change the fate of our Flavia! The man chosen was deemed best suited to win the war against Rome, but he was not liked, and in many quarters he was actually despised. Particularly galling was his habit of taking that which he desired, even if it meant going against ancient and sacred religion.
He had earned the enmity of many when, during a solemn religious festival, when he was not chosen a priest for the occasion, he withdrew most of the entertainers, whom he controlled.
Though it had not been proved, it was widely believed that as a younger man, he had been responsible for the kidnapping of several young Roman girls, and the people of Veii knew full well that this alone was enough to have earned the undying hatred of the Romans.
So hated did this man, chosen to have his people, eventually become, that one by one, the other cities of his race refused to come to the aid of Veii. Quonus was his name, and it was a name in time to be cursed by friend and enemy alike.
But no one can deny that Quonus was both brave and skilled in the arts of war, and as the Etruscans sensed that the tide was turning against them, they at first rallied around their new king, and listened to his words on how to defend their ancient city.
And well might they listen, for the bold Romans, our young soldier, Marcus Valerius among them, were at the very gates of the city. Yet the Romans, though flushed with success, have always exercised the virtue of caution, and they knew a direct assault against those mighty walls would cost them dearly and would probably fail.
And so the eight military tribunes who had been chosen by the Roman citizens for the conduct of the war decided on a siege, and ordered that the troops commence the building of breastworks and fortifications, to seal off Veii from the outside world, and to protect themselves against the possibility of sudden attack.
It was a bright, spring morning when Marcus was given command of a troop of twenty soldiers, and as he directed the construction of a ten-foot wall of earth, he gazed at the distant walls and towers, and his imagination soared as he thought of that fabled city, and of the reputation of the Etruscans. Many women had been his, in many ways, and that very night he had arranged to meet a dairy maid nearby. Yet, he wondered what new pleasures he might find inside Veii, and asked himself what he would do should the city fall.
The troops, their hatred of the Etruscans at the boiling point, often bragged of what they would do to the Etruscan women, fabled in love, when they were taken after the inevitable Roman victory. Marcus, though a thorough and often brutal soldier, was not cruel by nature, and he abhorred the idea of forcing women to bed with him. Yet on that spring day, he told himself that if the city fell, he would lose the opportunity of sampling his share of the Etruscan beauties.
Then, as he sat alone beneath a tree at lunch, and ate bread and goat milk cheese, and then grapes, and washed it down with great swallows of wine, he brooded on the Etruscans, and on the fact that though he had, like every Roman, thought on them each day of his life, he knew nothing of them, beyond his knowledge of their cruelty and treachery, and their reputation as a people of unbridled lust.
Well might our soldier have brooded for so had many learned men, and nothing had been found of the origin of these people. Indeed, the Etruscans themselves claimed not to know their origins, and each of their practices could be traced back so far, then vanished into a mist of history. Our Marcus must have found this strange, for he knew well the history of his own city, knew that Aeneas, who fled the ruins of Troy, sailed with his men and finally settled in Latium, and that his descendents helped found the great city we now inhabit, under a leader named Romulus, whose memory is preserved in its name.
But Marcus was a man not given to much brooding, and he soon returned to his work, and then when the sun was low in the sky, he took his leave and went to meet his maid. He found her waiting in the ruin of an ancient temple, overgrown now thick-leafed vines and tiny, yellow flowers. She was a buxom girl of twenty, with dark eyes and hair and olive skin, and strong thighs and gigantic breasts, and muscles developed from hard work, which ground out well the rhythms of love as she moved her body to her lover's demands.
The night was sweet with the smell of the yellow flowers, and the girl had brought a flask of heavy, red wine, which they drank in huge gulps. Then Marcus fell to his delightful prey and threw the flask to one side. He mashed his lips against the mouth of his woman and ripped off her flimsy tunic, to cup and squeeze her massive, heaving breasts. She rocked her body and then locked her strong thighs around Marcus' hips and gyrated until he was moaning with passion and mashing his lips brutally against hers and lashing the inside of her mouth with his frantic tongue.
She lacked art in love, but not desire or endurance. Finally, when he tore her mighty thighs from his frenzied body and fell between her thighs and shoved home with brute force his hungry instrument, she sighed and heaved and then locked him again. And she matched him stroke for stroke, and mighty was their work that night, and their groans and grunts echoed against the crumbling bricks of the old temple.
Marcus was a good soldier but his confidence now that Veii seemed on the edge of defeat was felt throughout the Roman camp. It is an often fatal trait-overconfidence-and well did the Etruscan king, Quonus, know this, and well did his knowledge seem at first to justify his selection as ruler of Veii.
His first act, as he sat with his council and priests and generals in the great palace, after ordering the extensive fortification of the walls, was to direct that raiding parties be sent out to harass the Romans and find out what information they could.
Several large parties attacked the main Roman fortifications and inflicted severe damage, and took many Roman lives. Smaller groups prowled the dark night, suddenly looming up on lone soldiers, killing some and dragging others far from help, to extract information.
And while Marcus and his maid pumped and grunted, and a wave of hot pleasure surged over Marcus' sweating, straining body, a group of half a dozen Etruscans drew near, moving slowly and cautiously.
Marcus groaned out his passion and slammed harder, and a flash of shuddering pleasure soaked his body, and then he fell away from his maid, grunting out his irregular breath. And this sound caught the ears of the Etruscans.
Ah, Mars, cruel god of war, he cares not for love, nor for the rights of the innocent. Marcus was still naked, refreshing himself with a swallow of wine and readying himself for another bout with his anxious maid, who lay at the ready, her mighty thighs parted, her dark eyes heavy with the veil of desire.
Just as he threw the wine flask down and turned to stare with hungry eyes at the exposed treasure of the maid, and smiled to see his instrument spring to attention between his own thighs, the Etruscans burst into the ruined temple.
Marcus, roaring like an enraged bull, snatched up his sword ana shield, and stumbled backward, feeling awkward with no clothes on his body, absurd really with his instrument still straining and stiff.
Four enemy soldiers fell on him, and drove him back, and two others grabbed the poor maid, who was too frightened to move. Marcus' rage was heightened as they dragged the screaming, naked girl into the darkness, and he slashed at his adversaries with blinding fury, and for his efforts and lack of caution he was cut severely on the left arm, and only the instinctive act of seeing from his side vision a crevice and springing into it so that only one soldier at a time could face him saved him from being hacked down on the spot.
All along the front the Romans were attacking now, and the groups of Etruscans were fading into the night, back to their city. A squad of Roman soldiers heard Marcus' shouts and ran toward the temple.
But they barely reached their companion in time. For after Marcus, an expert swordsman, cut down one of the enemy with a mortal blow to the stomach, the others fell back from direct attack, and one hurled a spear which pierced his side and barely missed taking his life.
His allies arrived and he was saved, though bleeding from two severe wounds. The Etruscans were killed on the spot, and Marcus ordered a search for the girl, but she could not be found.
Indeed, bound and gagged, she was being dragged to the city, along with other prisoners from that night's work. She was a simple peasant girl, and not of Etruscan stock, having come down from the nearby mountains a mouth earlier to work for a wealthy farmer of the area.
And never had she entered the mighty Etruscan city of Veii, though often had stared in awe at its lofty walls and towers and temples. Now as she was dragged through a small, well-guarded gate, her fear and terror were mingled with wonder, for simple peasant girls seldom view so grand a sight as Veii.
The city gleamed, even at night, with white marble, and each broad street and avenue was lined with temples and stately homes, and gold statues marked each corner, and vast groves of stately trees marked lush gardens where swans glided in ponds fed by huge waterfalls.
But as the terrified, naked girl was led along, the target for jeers and laughter from the inhabitants, and as her cheeks blazed with shame and she tried to cover her breasts and loins with her bound hands, she marveled not only at the magnificence of the city, and particularly the gigantic, precious statues, but at what they depicted.
With wide eyes she stared at twenty foot tall pieces of sculpture showing lovers in the most erotic of embraces, sometimes sitting, sometimes lying, sometimes standing. In one huge piece of stone, a woman was bent double and her partner, a giant with a foot long stone instrument was thrusting mightily through her buttocks, his muscles bulging all over his naked, stone body, her breasts of stone ornamented with precious stones, huge rubies glittering for her nipples.
Gigantic flares on stone pedestals lighted the broad avenue of marble, and the further the girl was led, the more erotic did the statuary become. Now there were marble works, showing a man dallying two maidens, both of whom were spreading their thighs wide and competing for his marble instrument, which was made of gold. Next, three maidens covered a man of marble with kisses, and one of them had her marble lips parted to smother with kisses his silver instrument, and next to this, towering above the avenue like something not made by mortal man, rose an enormous statue in marble and silver and gold of the rape of Leda by the swan and the great bird was spreading the struggling girl's thighs with his webbed feet, while his unearthly instrument, an awesome, long thing of solid gold, was thrusting into her treasure.
Now at the end of this incredible avenue, there rose a palace, with three rows of marble columns fifty feet tall across the front, and a hundred troops in gold armor, with tall, spiked helmets of gold and breastplates of silver and spears fifteen feet long, topped with red plumes from some exotic bird, guarded the edifice, each of these warriors well over six and a half feet tall.
The terrified girl looked from the statues to the frightening guards, then back to the statues, and then she saw, though the trees that lined the avenue behind the statuary, moving figures in the flickering flares. And with a blush she realized they were couples, making love in public, indeed in front of the very palace itself.
Now this maiden had spread her thighs for many a young farmer, and not a few soldiers, but this display of wanton and abandoned love shocked even her free giving nature.
Ah, poor girl, but for a whim of the gods might she had passed her night with yet another soldier, the good Marcus Valerius, and then returned to her rustic life. We know not even her name, though her tale is told in full in the ancient chronicles, and thus is she thrust in an agonizing moment of history, abused and tormented, and then hurtled abruptly to the obscurity from which she came. Such is the fate of mortals, and such was hers, this naked maiden being led down a hall inside the palace, to be questioned by none other than the king, Quonus, himself.
Blood already ran on the marble floor of the small chamber where Quonus sat on purple cushions, fanned by two black giants. Three Roman soldiers true to their honor and faithful to their countrymen, had gone under the torture, then chosen death, rather than talk. But our country wench, gladly would she have told anything to avoid her fate. But alas, she knew nothing, though the Etruscans thought her to be Marcus' mistress, and not a mere one night lover.
Frightful indeed was this mighty king with his dark features and black eyes, and demons all were the rough soldiers who shoved her about as she sobbed and protested that she knew nothing.
"Wretch!" the king exclaimed, for here was a man of little patience, and sorely put out was he by the bravery of the Roman soldiers who would not talk. "Open her lips, and make her scream her secrets. To the torture with her."
Ah, how she struggled, poor child, but soon she was hanging by her wrists from the ceiling, the thin cords cutting into her tender skin, her lovely, powerful dangling helplessly an inch from the marble floor.
"I know nothing, I swear," she screamed, and body trembled, and her blood ran hot, then cold. "Spare me, oh, mercy."
But a soldier knows no mercy, not under the cruel gaze of his angry king, and so a brazier of white-hot coals was brought, and a fat soldier with a face red from too much wine pulled out his sword and held its point in the coals.
"Tell us what you know of the Romans," the soldier demanded.
"I know nothing," the girl pleaded. "I swear my Mother Juno, I know nothing."
"Yet, you like well enough to bed with the swine," the soldier said. "You must have learned something from your soldier and we shall know it." And from the coals he jerked his glowing sword and pressed its point against the trembling girls huge, heavenly breasts. The pain shot a thousand points of agony through her body and she screeched and kicked and threw her head back and forth like a woman gone mad. And mad she was with pain and madder still, when the scalding, sharp point of the sword cut her nipples. She screeched until she had no voice left, then her head hung down and weird. inhuman sounds gurgled from her throat, and her body jerked in spasms she could not control.
Had she known all the secrets of the Roman army. she had no sound left with which to tell. Yet, the fat soldier, a leer on his round, red face, again heated his sword, and the girl, her eyes hazed, her wrists bleeding from her frenzied attempts to jerk free her breasts and nipples cut and seared, and her body a mere playground for rivulets of hot agony mortals cannot endure, prayed with what sense remained through the pain, that the gods might take her life and spare her further torture.
But despite the priests, seldom it is that the gods have time for such prayers. And so the soldier pressed his awful, white-hot blade against the white, sleek thighs that earlier had spread for her lover with such joy. And for one screech did she find her voice, then again she could only gurgle and roll her eyes and endure the agony that sent spasms of heat up her thighs and exploded in her brain.
"Bach, the bitch knows nothing!," the king shouted, and got up. "She would have talked if she knew anything."
"What shall we do with her?" asked the captain of the guard.
"Fool!" the king shouted. "Why should I care what is done with a peasant girl? Do what you like."
And so the furious king strode off, excited mightily by the scene he had just witnessed, and desperate to find a woman and satiate his burning loins. And what of the girl? We know for sure only that the captain told a tall, youthful soldier to dispose of the girl, and he was left alone with her. He too had been aroused by the scene of her ordeal, and when he was quite alone, he ripped off his clothes, and with no thought of mercy for her body, he grabbed her buttocks and pulled her suspended body to him, and plunged home to her treasure, and she moaned and ached and whimpered, but he pumped and thrust and took his pleasure, and then his instrument took from her tormented the last particle of soaring pleasure and he grunted and bit her neck as his release came, then stumbled back, and poured his irregular breath out.
Now that his lust was slaked, he looked again at the pitiful lovely creature, and took out his sword and cut her down, catching her and hoisting her over his shoulder. His captain had given her to him, and he was suddenly a happy man.
CHAPTER THREE
The Romans began at once to repair the damage to their fortifications, and to take steps to see the tragedy wasn't repeated, by posting double guards, and providing stiff penalties for any soldier caught off his post of duty. But there developed quarrels amongst the Roman leaders, as to the blame, and though they were slight now, they were the seeding that would lead to far greater trouble.
In the city itself, news of the disaster caused great excitement, and not a little bitterness. The common soldiers were not mercenaries, but free citizens-indeed, it was deemed an honor to serve in the army, an honor fit only for a Roman citizens-indeed, it was deemed an honor to serve in the army, an honor fit only for a Roman citizen. And the leaders of the common cause in Rome, who were opposed to the patricians, soundly criticized the decision to besiege Veii, and therefore keep a large number of men in the field and away from their duties in the city. They mounted the nostrum in the Forum and cried this was a plot to rob them of their chance to vote, and well might the bitterness have spread after the night attack at Veii, had it not been for the eloquence of several leading patricians, who rightly argued it would be foolish to abandon the position outside the city, won with so much Roman blood.
Particularly effective were the speeches of the distinguished Appius Claudius, and soon every citizen was again backing the war effort, and the plan to lay siege until the hated enemy had been brought to his knees. In fact, so martial a spirit was raised, that a group of citizens volunteered their services, and journeyed to Veii at their own expense to help repair the fortifications.
But our Marcus Valerius passed them on the road, for his wounds had rendered him useless for the time being as a soldier, and he was sent back to recover his health. Not only his body had been wounded, but inside he seethed with a wounded spirit, for allowing himself to be caught in so humiliating a pose by the enemy, and to allow an innocent girl to fall victim to the Etruscans, known to every Roman for their incredible cruelty and unspeakable sexual practices.
Marcus duly visited his family-a large one, of which he was the youngest son, which was why his older brother inherited his father's grain business and he chose an army career-then prayed in the temple to Jupiter, thanking the god for sparing his life, and vowing to revenge himself on the enemy.
He lay around the home of his family and his wounds healed slowly, and he drank much wine and grew restless. Finally, one evening, he hobbled out and went to a tavern, to drink and sing and drink some more, and then he took to bed a pretty maid, but it was awkward and painful when he tried to mount her spread thighs, and finally, she too being drunk with wine, she laughed and shoved him back, then kissed down his body, and planted her hot, wet lips on his rigid instrument, and he kisses forth moans of delight, and Marcus humped his body up and down, enduring pain, but also such a sensation from her wicked, knowing tongue and to a blinding peak of excitement, then exploded.
Thus passed his days of indolence, with wine and lusty maidens, and he slowly grew stronger, and stronger grew his lust, and stronger still his impatience to return to his men and the siege at Veii. But his physician pronounced him still unfit for duty, so he contented himself with more wine, and long bouts mounted between the ample thighs of some wench from a tavern.
But if the days of Marcus Valerius passed in an uneven pattern of rugged, artless lovemaking, those of Flavia were far different. Just as the Romans took sex and women as natural things to be enjoyed, but without undue attentions or thoughts, so had the Etruscans raised them to the heights of science and poetry.
And though as a neophyte priestess dedicated to the service of the goddess Juno, Flavia's life was to be that of a virgin, that is, she was never, on pain of death and eternal damnation, to make love to a man, it did not mean she was never supposed to know the pleasures of sex. For the Etruscans were far too sensual a people to conceive such a thing. And young Flavia learned soon enough how her life was to be spent, and how she was derive her pleasures.
She had not known, poor child, had merely supposed in her youth and ignorance that she would be locked in the temple, and had accepted it as a divine honor, to bring honor to her family and the greatest fulfillment to herself. Ah, she knew she would miss that which every girl in the city enjoyed daily, but she felt she could endure this, since she would be removed from its sight. But no one had told her what went on inside the huge temple, when the massive doors were sealed.
Bad enough was the first night, with its lashings and ritual and degrading sacrifice of her virginity. And from that first moment of shock and repulsion she had wondered about a goddess who demanded such sacrifices from those who served. But the next night, ah, far worse was her shock!
She and the other neophytes spent the day recovering from the ordeal of pain, and learning simple parts of the complex and ancient rituals they would be expected to perform, as well as learning of the menial tasks they would perform for the priestesses, so long as they remained neophytes.
The temple doors stayed bolted all that day, and it was cold and musty, and to Flavia, smelled somehow of the grave. Ah, how she pined that only rarely would she pass through those doors, only on feast days and days of triumph for the army. And she thought miserably of her cell in the chambers below the massive statue of Juno.
She ate but little, merely picking at some grapes and having a glass of watered wine. And in the evening, still gripped with spasms of pain in both her back and her loins, she wanted only to retire early, and try to sleep. But scarcely had she reclined on her hard, narrow couch when she was summoned to the assembly of all priestesses and neophytes in a chamber still deeper in the ground, still mustier and cooler, as though never had the warm, soft breezes of spring penetrated the thick, stone walls.
Flavia stopped abruptly as she stepped inside the chamber, and she shoved her hand against her mouth to stifle a gasp. For the walls were decorated with lavish frescoes in red and purple, frescoes which like the statuary outside depicted every aspect of exotic pleasure-but there was one striking difference. In the myriad of naked bodies kissing and hugging, twisting and licking, stretching thighs wide and offering buttocks, there was not one man!
Flavia stumbled in, aware at once of the looks of the older women, which seemed to burn through her thin, white tunic, and devour her ripe, young body, caress with their looks her lush breasts, and jutting buttocks, roam up her sleek, intimate, golden thighs and indeed, not pause even at her golden framed treasure.
And as Flavia sank weakly to a purple and red couch, the high priestess stood and began to explain to the neophytes why they had been summoned, and what part of their training lay ahead, and in a moment, Flavia knew full well her first thoughts had been correct.
The blunt words of the priestess brought forth gasps and even moans from the young girls, yet Flavia saw that a few of them did not seem to object, indeed even seemed to be looking around the chamber, with blatant lust shining in their eyes.
"Men are denied you," the priestess was saying. "Denied for now and all eternity, even to paradise.
Yet, not denied are the pleasures of the body. You are in the service of the goddess Juno, and as she is the mightiest and most perfect of all female forms, thus will you learn to worship all aspects of the female form, and to give and receive untold ecstasies to each other, with each part of your lovely, young bodies."
"No, I won't do that," a neophyte blurted, a pretty thing with long, black hair and eyes black as night, and an exquisite body, who was named Octavia.
"Would you offend the wishes of the great goddess Juno?" the high priestess asked. "Hold your foolish words, stupid neophyte."
"I won't,' Olivia cried. "No one told me this is the way it would be."
"Ignore her," the high priestess demanded. "Soon enough will this unworthy feel the wrath of Juno. This girl will remain here. Each of the rest of you will begin this phase of your new life tonight. Each will go with a priestess and be initiated into the divine pleasures of female love."
And so our little Flavia, repulsed and miserable, but unwilling to offend the great goddess to whom her life was pledged, left the chamber with a priestess named Melina, a woman of thirty-five, with large hips and small breasts, and a face still strikingly beautiful.
They walked in silence to the chamber where the priestess lived, a small room with a wide couch of purple and red cushions which covered nearly the entire floor. Sticks of incense burned and left a sweet, strangely arousing smell in the heavy air, and faint haze of red and purple smoke.
Flavia sat on the couch, her legs beneath her, her body stiff and cold. Melina poured them each a draught of green liquor and she insisted Flavia drink it down in one swallow.
And so the neophyte obeyed. The liquor was thick and sweet, with a slight flavor of lime and mint, and the moment it fell into her knotted stomach, a sheet of tingling fire rose throughout her body, and her nipples throbbed, and her loins seemed to quiver.
The priestess sipped her own liquor, then she carefully and slowly removed Flavia's tunic, her fingers soft and knowing as they touched the burning skin, or lingered, light as feathers, on tingling nipples or warm, sensitive thighs.
Flavia lay back, feeling strange, weak, somewhat repulsed yet aroused in a hazy, hot, maddening way. She licked her lips and tasted the liquor, and she realized her breath was heavy and that her nipples were hard as rocks.
She told herself she did not want this, not even to please the goddess, yet when the priestess' hands skated over her sweating thighs, she groaned with delight, and took her breasts in her hands and squeezed the taut nipples and shook back and forth with the sensations of pleasure. The knowing hands were moving in a pattern of desire on the thighs, and Flavia jerked the thighs wider, and dug her fingers against her throbbing nipples and savored the pain that shot through the breasts, followed by the most wicked and exquisite feelings of abandoned delight.
She whimpered and rocked her body, and then threw her hands wide and whined through clinched teeth as Melina slid a finger against the quivering. damp loins.
"Your instruction will come later, little one," Melina said, her breath hot and wet on Flavia's thighs. "For now, experience delight, and know well to what heights of pleasure we can soar. Take from me the gifts I have learned tonight. And later, I will teach you all I know, so that you may delight me, and the other members of our sisterhood."
But Flavia heard little of these words. She sucked in her heavy breath and the incense was burning in her nostrils and she bit her lips and tasted the mint and lime liquor, and her breasts and nipples seemed alive at a thousand nerve ends of pleasure that made her want to screech with pleasure. And Melina's fingers danced on her thighs and her loins and she jerked her thighs yet wider, and her buttocks quivered and her loins went mad with desire.
A scream from somewhere, high and thin, pulled her for an instant from her haze of ecstasy, but the touch of Melina's mouth brought a scream from her own lips, and she shut her eyes and humped her body, and whimpered a hymn of animal lust as the lips and tongue and incredible nibbling teeth attacked her loins and shot her to a fantasy world of sexual thrills so staggering she clawed at the couch and gnashed her teeth together and rocked her sweating, scalding body back and forth. And again and again she screamed and screamed and screeched out her unbearable delight.
She did not hear the partners of the scream that had for an instant disturbed her. Octavia had changed her mind about the sex life proposed for her, and was screaming to be allowed to demonstrate how much of a change of heart she had had.
The high priestess watched with an evil smile as the girl clawed at the thick garment which had been fitted around her hips and thighs, then laced tight and locked in the rear with a small but strong padlock. The garment had been coated with a secret salve the priestesses knew of, a slave from the east which inflamed the loins with a desire so strong a person could not endure it, and became so sexually aroused they would do anything to be given sexual relief.
"I can't stand it," Octavia screeched, running in circles and clawing so hard she broke her fingernails and scratched her back and stomach until rivulets of blood poured forth. "I'm on fire. Mercy, I'll do anything, Mercy."
In truth, her body was on fire, was burning inside her loins in a way few women ever know, and with this staggering, unbearable desire came sharp, shuddering pain. And her breasts ached and itched and burned and her nipples seemed white-hot and were hard they seemed ready to burst.
In a fit of agony and lust, Octavia flung herself down at the feet of the high priestess and ripped off the woman's tunic. Without hesitation, she buried her distorted, scarlet, sweating face against the woman's loins, kissing and licking uncontrollably, even pitifully.
The woman laughed and shoved the girl's face back. "Learn this lesson well," she said, and bent with a tiny, golden key she unlocked the garment, down, as she slapped the girl's face. "Be still, fool!" and then helped the frantic girl tear the garment down her legs.
The woman stood up, holding the garment. "Stay locked here and ponder well what it means to defy the ancient and sacred ways of our sisterhood," she said. Then she turned and left the chamber, carefully locking the heavy door.
But wretched Octavia heard nor saw nothing. She was rolling on the cold marble floor, whimpering and rocking and biting her lips, as her frantic fingers scratched at her burning loins, trying to give her frenzied, agonized body the release for which it screamed and jerked. And she would work at her loins that night until she exhausted herself and sank into heavy, wretched sleep, and even next morning, would awake itching and again shoot down her fingers to tear from the loins the release she had to have.
Our little Flavia floated into another kind of slumber, satiated and intoxicated by Melina's hand and mouth, and she slept peacefully in Melina's soft arms.
Indeed, all of Veii slept in peace that night, after couplings after the fashion of the gigantic statues that lined the avenues. The mighty Etruscan civilization, so ancient its origins were already lost, felt secure, though menaced by the Romans. Menaced only they thought, secure in their heritage and wealth, not knowing they were being deserted by the gods and goddesses, and that even the patroness of their city, Juno was looking on them with disfavor, and would in time desert them, tiring perhaps of the rituals of sex committed in her sacred name.
And so our little Flavia slept, and dreamed of pleasures unbridled, for in her lush, sensuous and vivid imagination the gods of love could dance to their delights, for truly she was a ripening girl to soar love to the epitome of poetry and carry on in grand style her heritage of abandoned pleasure. And Marcus slept in someone's arms also, a bar wench whose broad thighs had gripped that good soldier many times. His lovemaking was powerful, driving and artless, but he was destined to learn many things of poetry in time. Etruscan things that went back into the haze of antiquity also, and would be conveyed to this Roman in pain and pleasure, by Flavia.
CHAPTER FOUR
Marcus' life of women and wine continued for yet a time, and he grew fat and bored, even with pleasure. Then, finally, he was posted back to duty, and never was a soldier happier to return to his army. And an active army it was. The military tribunes knew well that because of the dislike of King Quonus, the other Etruscan cities would not send aid to besieged Veii. Yet, shaken after the ease with which the enemy had attacked and destroyed portions of their defenses in the daring night raid, they both reinforced these defenses, and prepared other defenses from the rear, deciding that prudence and wisdom dictated that they not trust to the isolation from other Etruscan cities in which Veii now found itself.
The spirit of patriotism in Rome slackened as time passed, and though the citizens supported the army and prayed daily for victory, still the lengthening siege with no victory brought the cries of dissidents to the surface. Debates raged in the senate between the patricians and the common cause, and daily, speakers opposed to the siege mounted the rostrum in the Forum to arrange the crows, and decry the long absence from their duties of Rome's citizens.
It was the inevitable battle between citizen's groups, a healthy thing ultimately, since it emphasized the freedom Roman's felt, and it was well known that when danger threatened the gates of the city, patrician and plebian would stand together in common cause.
Marcus found none of this difference of opinion in the army outside Veii when he returned, and he went to his duties with renewed energy and dedication. Yet, as time passed and there was no actual fighting, many men began to grumbled quirk of the nature of man, even of the noblest of Roman soldiers, that boredom and routine can sometimes come closer to defeating the spirit of an army than the fiercest and bloodiest onslaughts of the enemy.
But after some time, the Etruscans again sent raiding parties out, and this sporadic combat revived the Roman's martial spirit. Marcus fought bravely in two small engagements and was personally congratulated on one occasion by a military tribune-big honor for a common soldier. And a week later, he was placed in command of a group of twenty soldiers, second in command in his unit to the centurion, who commanded a hundred men.
Though his lustiness grew, Marcus did not let himself dally with any of the farm maidens he occasionally came across, admonishing himself that having once been reckless and then spared by the gods, it would be folly to tempt providence a second time. He threw himself into his new duties and responsibilities with renewed energy, in an effort to slake his lust, but with little success, for he was the kind of man whose passion can be slaked only between the thighs of a woman.
Behind the massive walls of Veii, despite the constant threat of the enemy, there was not a citizen who did not constantly satisfy his passions, and now with summer on the magnificent city, more and more people take their pleasure outside, in the parks, or beneath the very statues of love themselves. The city had adjusted to the presence of the enemy, and since it was thought no enemy of mortal men could storm Veii's walls, life had returned to normal, and for an Etruscan this meant more and more pleasures of the flesh.
Yet there were the rippling.? of discontent, and they were growing among those who daily saw the king. The common citizens saw him seldom, and had already forgotten the reasons for his being that he defied the wrath of the gods with his impious practices, and on many a day he dared to mock the priests at their divine and sacred duties, and all who watched this man knew he could bring only disaster by angering the gods and goddesses that had protected the city for so many ages.
And Quonus, scornful that anything could touch him, reveled more than the average Etruscan in his pleasures, and yet, confined to the city and growing bored with his duties, sought some new game of sex, some new partner who had groaned beneath the assault of his enormous instrument. Soon enough was this insatiable and impious man to discover that which he sought, and the consequences of his discovery will be clear for all to see.
As the spring changed into summer, Flavia lived in the temple and unlike poor Marcus, grimly doing his duty and growing nearly mad with lust, this lovely maiden was daily taught a myriad of sexual pleasures, and many times on soft couches of purple and red did her soft moans and shrill shrieks of exquisite pleasure echo through the cold, marble corridors.
From that first night, when she had but to lay back and let Melina's lips and tongue and fingers drive her frantic with passion, then pull from her burning body pleasure beyond belief, Flavia had quickly developed into a willing pupil, and indeed, was soon enough as proficient as her teachers in the ways of love with women. Constantly did she despair during the long days in the musty, cool chambers, as she learned the ancient rituals and tasks, and thought that never would she know life rites, and the dances, and performed her menial outside, life with a man, as other girls she had known.
Yet, she had but to finish the evening meal, and go back to her small cell, and already her body was glowing with anticipation. And when a priestess came, at first Melina, but slowly, each of the older women, and touched and kissed and stroked, Flavia's body would quiver and she would bum with desire, and eagerly accept the experience and the knowledge that was offered. And soon, she had a reputation among the priestesses as by far the best pupil among the neophytes.
It seemed the gods had granted her a rare gift of love, and there was no position she could assume, no way she could twist her supple body, no movement of fingers, no manner of kissing or method of sucking or secret of using her tongue that she did at once learn, and then and quickly improve on. Added to this, her incredible body and exquisite beauty and her youth all combined to make her the most popular pupil, it was no secret that bitter feuds and jealousies developed among the older woman as to who should have the pleasure of instructing her each night.
At first, it was the more simple methods she learned, with no artificial aids or devices She could kiss her partner's lips, driving her partner's tongue frantic with her own, learned rhythms with her fingers that in half a minute had another woman writhing and groaning, and there were ways she could suck breasts and nipples, lashing them with her hot, wild tongue and biting them with cruel yet arousing teeth, that caused experienced and older women in the temple to claw at the couch in pleasure. And our little Flavia could kiss down over a quivering stomach, and then journey over delicate, sweating thighs with lips and tongue so hot and knowing that in a dozen subtle movements of mouth and tongue, she could cause her partner to scream and jerk-and without ever having touched the loins.
But when her slender fingers skated over damp, burning thighs to tickle and scratch, claw and tease and tantalize the loins, ah, the sounds that echoed about the little room seemed not human, and when those divine lips and that long, slender tongue took possession of the treasure that jerked beneath the little hedges of hair, ah, it was an animal sound that screeched out in ungodly passion.
And all his time, our Flavia herself was on fire, her nipples hard and quivering, her loins jerking, her sounds moving from soft moans to loud screams.
And thus she learned and perfected and became an instrument of pleasure, able to provide a night of exquisite delights, while herself receiving equally as much pleasure as she gave.
And then there would be more than one woman to come to her chamber. Only the first time did this shock her. For soon she was too lost in the agonizingly delicious world that she had discovered, writhing, her mouth sucking at some dark treasure, while still another pair of lips drove her berserk, her own treasure wild and frantic, and her lips also accommodated with knowing lips and a hot tongue, and four hands roaming ever secret, sensitive part of her feverish body.
And there would then be three, and finally four or five, and at times five sets of lips would worship Flavia's perfect body, mouth sucking each breast and aching nipple, sucking her own mouth, sucking her scalding treasure, and finally her jutting buttocks, and all the while fingers, seemingly hundreds of fingers, would softly roam her body, until she would screech out her delight and a screaming release would build in her body and a thousand nerves would burn raw, and she would thrash and gyrate and then the release would explode and her own nails would draw blood from her hands.
And then she would, without an instant's rest, join four other women in worshipping at the body of one of guests, and it mattered not where, at the breasts and nipples, at the mouth, at the buttocks, or at the loins, she enjoyed all the work, enjoyed each part of a woman's body, it all filled her with growing passion, and she hacked out her hot, irregular breath, and waited again for her turn, thought at times her body was so aroused and burned so, she had to slip a hand down and scratch at her loins, lest she go mad.
Our little Flavia learned how to love a woman sitting against the wall, lying down on stomach or back, or side, and she took particularly wicked delight when her partner would stand on her head and Flavia would hold her legs and kiss down from the feet, over the legs to the thighs, and then jerk the thighs far apart, and plunge her mouth into the waiting, open loins. And then as her lips touched the treasure they so desired, she would feel hot, wet lips clamped over her own loins, and she would often times scream and jerk and so excited would she become that her teeth and lips and tongue would do cruel work on the loins she worked at, but always with the cruelty was that divine pleasure she could alone give, and when she and her partner reached their peaks of scalding excitement, both would screech and claw and their bodies would show the scars of their session of love.
Flavia came to live only for these nocturnal sessions, yet their pleasures did not really dim the unhappiness that mounted in her reach day. And one morning, when she was alone in the huge chamber that housed the enormous statue of Juno she looked up into the massive visage of marble and wondered about this patroness of her city, wondered what she thought of the activities done in her name, and in her very temple.
It is not easy, and indeed it can be fatal to try to guess what the gods and goddesses think of anything mortal, but if we judge solely by what fate was soon to befall Veii, we might assume that Juno looked down on poor Flavia, and was not pleased at the lust and passion that reigned in her temple. But how could a goddess have blamed so lovely and innocent a child? Might the mighty goddess more easily have blamed a high priestess and a king? For though neither knew it, they would soon, each for their own selfish reasons, combine to commit a sacrilege unknown in the entire history of the Etruscans.
But Flavia on that day as she looked up at Juno had no reason to think that her life would ever change, and though already her nipples betrayed her and tingled against her tunic with just the thought of the pleasure that lay at the end of the day, still, a small tear trickled down her cheek when she thought that summer had passed and never once had she been outside the temple.
That night, something new was introduced into the lessons in love. The Etruscans had gathered or perfected-no one knew precisely which, because like all else Etruscan their origins predated time itself-numerous potions, salves, ointments and drops that could be taken or applied to the body, to aid in the delights of sex, or provide utter misery, if that was desired as Octavia had learned so bitterly.
Some of them were in the form of liquors, and tasted like lime or mint, or like orange and lemon, or delicate spices, and when drank, they seemed to spread quickly throughout the body, causing each sensitive place to bum with desire, and placed over the eyes a haze that obscured the mundane world, and transported the drinker, as though physically, to a magic world of unbridled pleasure, where each act of love the touch of a finger, the brush of lips was heightened in its impact beyond description.
Others were spread on the body two score on the breasts and nipples alone, we are told, of many perhaps one nipple, something inhuman in its sensitivity to touch and feel, so that the merest brush of a tongue could drive a woman to actual madness of desire. And when dropped into the loins, ah, the madness was complete and the release brought on by hand or mouth were unlike human beings have known or imagined.
And some of them heightened sensitivity, but prolonged the moment when the excitement reaches its peak and explodes, so that the woman can drag out her pleasure to lengths not possible with normal human endurance.
And any of these, used in certain ways, can bring on the person who is the victim agony and desire unbearable, and they have been known, so the ancient accounts, say, to break the spirit of the strongest person, even a mighty' warrior who has suffered great pain in battle and fought on, and endured the most brutal and agonizing tortures of last, fire and steel. One account speaks of a mighty warrior captured in some ancient time by the Etruscans, who bravely withstood every torture and torment his captors could devise. Yet this hero, when given to the women of the temple and chained into helplessness, was prepared with an ointment which greatly accelerated his excitement, yet was forced to swallow drops which made it impossible for him to reach a climax. And thus the women aroused him, kissing and stroking and using strange instruments, and in less than half a night, he was screeching for mercy and had told every secret he knew.
Soon enough would Flavia and the other girls learn from experience the awesome power they possessed. But for now, Flavia delighted in drinking the exotic liquors and going berserk with her lovemaking, or having the exquisite creams spread on her nipples and buttocks and then over her loins, and finding that there were heights of sexual excitement she had never in her wildest night of pleasure conceived or dared imagine.
And Flavia was occupied now with other matters, for with summer over, the great autumn feast was at hand, and this meant that the neophytes of the temple would perform the sacred dances at the coming celebration, and this meant, among other things, a blessed opportunity, to spend time out of the confines of the temple. Flavia had nearly forgotten a war was being fought, and her city was under siege. Time itself had been suspended for the poor girl, and the only measure of time was the slow pace of the day's work until she could return to her cell for another new thrill.
Her energy seemed endless, and despite the sessions of pleasure which went on far into the night, yet was she up with the sun each morning, and when the neophytes practiced their dances for exhausting hours, Flavia was always the last one to drop from weariness.
And because of her dedication, and her grace and her beauty, she was chosen by the priestesses to take the place of honor in the dances for the feast, and to wear the thin, hazy purple tunic which signified she was the neophyte most pleasing to the goddess Juno.
CHAPTER FIVE
But our Flavia, caught in the dedication and frenzy of perfecting the dances meant to please and appease the gods and goddesses and insure a good harvest and general food fortune to the city-particularly crucial now with the Romans surrounding Veii-knew nothing of the impious, insatiable King Quonus, who lay nightly in his palace, drunk of wine, savagely taking one woman after another, and satisfied with none. His boredom and lust grew, and as the day for the feast drew near, and perhaps even by now the fate of his city was sealed. If not, his intemperance and impiety would surely seal it forever the night of the feast.
The maidens in the temple were not the only citizens of that besieged city who were preparing for the great feast, for it seemed clear to all that every opportunity must be taken to obtain the good fortune of the gods. The feast of the harvest had been celebrated for far longer than the city had existed, and even though Veii was cut off from its lands, it had a good store of supplies. It also did much to help raise the spirits of the citizens to know they could continue their rites and feasts, with a hated enemy at their gate.
And they also knew full the temptation to be slack in their duties, and therefore they doubled the guards on the walls, and even sent out several small parties to harass the enemy and show that the city could both fight and celebrate and the Romans were helpless to prevent either.
And indeed, it was frustrating for our noble Roman soldiers. They could satisfy themselves that the Etruscans would not meet them in open battle. But they knew full well they could not take the city, could not surmount those enormous walls, and it galled them sore that while they stood lonely guard duty, far from families and their own feasts and celebrations, the Etruscans were reveling and daring the Romans to do anything.
Ah, some commanders with hot blood wished to storm the walls. But most tribunes disagreed and the plan was abandoned before it was hardly submitted. Marcus stood lonely duty that night, and saw the light flaring in the distant city and thought of home, and of the feasts he had missed, and he wondered when they could force the Etruscans to face them and fight-or when their blockade would have its effect, and Veii would be forced into capitulation.
But in the city, having doubled their fortifications and knowing themselves secure, the people turned out for a lavish celebration. Ancient men recorded they had never seen its like, and in the evening, when the neophytes from the temple of Juno were escorted but, they found their city gone mad with wine and love.
The maids, wrapped in cloaks, were carefully taken to the huge state which had been constructed across the front of the king's palace, and they looked down on the broad avenue lined with statues of love, and gazed at thousands of people in every erotic pose conceivable.
Music was begun, and the neophytes shed their cloaks and grouped on either side of Flavia, as dozens of white and red birds were released into the air, and thick, red incense swept across the platform. At first, the crowd, too intoxicated and too involved in the myriad of little orgies taking place up the avenue paid scant attention to the sacred dances.
But slowly as the beautiful maidens, clad in the filmiest of tunics, twirled about the platform, the people of Veii. ceased their erotic excesses to gaze up at them. We are not told why they looked-and were all men devout and pious it could be said the sacred and divine nature of the dances which were designed to honor the gods brought forth the true religious feelings of the citizens. But knowing the nature of human beings, and particularly those of the Etruscans, it would seem more likely the sight of the scantily-clad maidens, who had not been seen in public for months, caused many a lusty Etruscan, mellowed with wine, to look longingly on the dancers-and his lust would certainly have been heightened because he would have known that never could he have possessed one of these girls, dedicated as they were to the virginal service of June.
Never, that is, unless he was a king who spurned the practice of piety and cared nothing for the worship of the ancient rites. Never, unless he was king Quonus, who sat on a mighty, golden throne overlooking the platform and followed the slow, graceful, sensuous movements of the lovely, nearly naked girls.
At first his eyes, dark and lustful, moved slowly over the neophytes of the goddess, and he was at once struck by the fact that each girl was a virgin. That is, he knew none of the lovely creatures had ever been possessed by a man in the ways of love. But this Quonus knew full well also the life the women led in the temple, knew in detail of the nights of love, and the things the maidens were taught. His lust and boredom sprang up, and he licked his lips and his instrument sprang to life.
And then his eyes found Flavia! And how this exquisite girl moved her graceful body, so that her breasts rippled and her stomach undulated and her buttocks swayed in motions that even Quonus in all his lustful life, filled with every erotic pleasure known to man, had never witnessed.
Perhaps at that instant the fate of Veii was sealed. Certainly the great goddess Juno must have been repulsed and angered at the thoughts of the king of a city that depended for its good fortune on her pleasure. For Quonus burned with a lust far stronger than any he had ever known. And he wiped sweat from his forehead and called for wine and swore he would have this girl, no matter the cost. In truth, the cost was to be high, but who could have known that night in a city was secure and ancient as Veii.
We Romans would never so dishonor a goddess, and that is why our city has prospered for so long, and today stands mightier than any city that the world has ever known. Excess at times, yes, that trait is a counterpart to lusty men and stout courage, but never in offending a god or goddess.
In time the dances ended, and Flavia and her companions left the platform, and the citizens thundered out their applause, and returned to their lovemaking. Flavia was duly wrapped in her cloak and along with the other neophytes and the priestesses, she was escorted back to the temple by a squad of soldiers.
Back at the palace, Quonus, his face red and his instrument aching, poured down wine until it spilled over his chin.
"Bring the high priestess to me!" he bellowed and two tall soldiers ran off to do his bidding.
The two soldiers overtook the procession as it was mounting the steps to the temple, and when told she had been summoned to the king, the high priestess smiled with pleasure, for she thought he meant to compliment her on the dancing of the neophytes.
But what a shock awaited the woman. She found the king in a small chamber filled with gold ornaments and erotic statues and he himself was reclining on a golden couch, pouring down wine.
"Leave us alone," he shouted and the two soldiers quickly departed, and closed behind them the intricately carved doors, which overlaid with gold leafing.
He heart sank, and the look in his dark, wild eyes sent a chill down the spine of the high priestess. He did not ask her to sit, did not offer wine, did not compliment the dancing of the neophytes.
"Who is the girl with the golden hair, who was the first dancer?" he asked with a heavy voice.
"Why, that was Flavia, your majesty," the woman said.
"And is she was proficient in all the arts the women of the temple know, as she is in dancing?" he asked, in a strange voice.
"She is first in everything," the woman answered without hesitation, for she was fond of Flavia and proud to have the girl serve under her.
"I want her!" the king said. "Name your price."
"But I don't understand," the woman started, and stepped back.
"Of course you do," he shouted. "I intend to possess the girl, to make her my mistress."
"That is not possible, even for a king," the priestess said. "Her life and virginity are pledged to the goddess. For you to touch her would be a sacrilege. Juno would surely punish Veii."
"Fool, don't lecture me on religion," he screamed, and threw his golden wine goblet at her, barely missing her head. "I will have the girl. This very night. With your help or without it. The choice is yours."
"But, your majesty, I am sworn on a oath of eternity to uphold the sacred and divine laws of my order and of our religion," the priestess said. "I have sworn on an oath of my own blood to die rather than betray my sacred trust."
The king, his instrument so stiff it shoved through his tunic, sprang from his couch, and grabbed the shaking woman and ripped her tunic from her body. Her screams were lost in the thick walls of the chamber, as the king threw her to her knees and pulled a small dagger, which he placed at her throat.
"I will have her tonight," he said, his voice soft and deadly. "Help me and you will be made wealthy.
Oppose me, and your death shall be slow and agonizing."
Screams bounced off the walls as Quonus twisted her arm behind her back, then pressed the point of the dagger into her neck, enough to draw blood and to sent a hot river of pain over her agonized body.
Will have you strung up by your heels and your loins flayed," he screamed, a man gone mad with lust. And then his scarlet face twisted into a leer. "So you've dedicated your virginity to the goddess, have you? Then I shall surely rape your body here on the spot and bring Juno's wrath down on you for all eternity. And after that, you shall be flayed alive."
And so saying, he threw the knife down and shoved the sobbing, hysterical woman to the marble floor. She tried to scramble away, but he quickly caught her and fell to her shaking body.
"No, no," she screeched, and clawed at) his distorted face. "Have mercy on me. Don't bring down on me the wrath of Juno. Take Flavia. But don't subject me to this."
He had already forced her thighs apart, and it was all Quonus could do, in his insanely lustful state, to control himself. But the thought of Flavia, and he scrambled to his feet, as the priestess crawled over and put her tunic on.
Now that she had been spared herself, and felt the sin would be on Quonus and Flavia, the high priestess suddenly became Calm and calculating. She reasoned with herself that if the king was certain to violate Flavia, then as much profit should be derived from his lust as possible.
"I want the girl tonight, you hear," he said, pouring another goblet of wine.
"If it is your command, I will obey," she said.
"But what reward shall I receive?"
"Is not your life and your sacred virginity enough reward?" he thundered. "No, I see it is not, and that your piety easily becomes bargainable. Take this." He took a golden bracelet studded with precious stones from a chest and threw it at her. "And there will be more if you aid me. But if you betray my confidence, you know the double fate that awaits you."
"I will not fail you," she said, and bowed, then stepped forward, smiling slightly. "Now we must plan, and I will tell you of a secret entrance to the temple, known only to the high priestess."
And so they plotted to degrade the ancient rules of the temple, and our little Flavia ate a hearty supper and knew nothing of what was being planned for her. She already tingled as she thought of the coming session of pleasure. Yet her heart was heavy, poor maiden, for she had been outside in the flesh air and she had seen the joy and freedom of the young people of Veil.
After her supper, she went alone up to the main chamber, as she often did, to gaze up at the mammoth statue of Juno. She got to her knees and uttered a confused prayer, pledging herself to the rules of the temples and swearing to obey the dictates of the goddess, yet remembering her fate and condemning herself for her nightly rounds of love with the women.
But the girl knew not the mysterious working of fate and destiny, and even as she walked slowly down a long, marble corridor to her cell, the high priestess was showing King Quonus into the bowels of the temple, through a secret entrance. At the end of a serpentine, musty corridor, there was a chamber unknown to any other women in the temple, and here the priestess bid the impatient king wait, promising to deliver Flavia.
Flavia bathed and prepared herself for the peculiar instructions that the young priestesses of Juno were given, and then scented her damp, warm body with a sweet oil and selected a hazy, white tunic.
Slowly, her unhappiness was overwhelmed by her tingling body, and she lay down on the couch and let her little fingers rub over her intimate thighs and brush at her loins, and a shock of pleasure shot over her body and her nipples throbbed with delight and anticipation.
She was startled by the sudden appearance of the high priestess in the doorway, and jerked her fingers from her quivering loins. Flavia stared up at the stately, usually dignified woman and was stunned by the look of fear on her pale face.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, as she stood up, painfully aware that the hard nipples were shoving against the thin tunic in a very obvious way.
"My chi ij, I must speak with you quickly," the priestess said.
The priestess walked over and put her arm around Flavia, and thus began her plan to circumvent the ancient and holy rules of the temple. First, she told the maiden to sit, and then she asked for wine, and when Flavia was not looking, she slipped into the girl's goblet a portion of a powerful aphrodisiac.
At first, she complimented Flavia on her dancing, but she took care, having noticed the girl's nipples and knowing how easily she was sexually aroused, to stroke first her hair, then her shoulders, and finally her thighs, and heat raced over Flavia. Of course, the girl gulped down the wine, and in an instant she was wildly aroused, and her nipples ached divinely and sweat poured from her thighs, which seemed to have a thousand points of agonizing pleasure, each one aroused by the high priestess' knowing hands.
Poor Flavia thought only that the woman wished to be her teacher in love, and so she allowed herself to get fully aroused, as usual, though there were strange, frightening things happening in her body, and the flames that licked inside her and made her breath irregular and covered her sweat and brought whimpers from her lips made her uneasy.
But the scheming priestess did her work well, and when she slid her hand beneath the tunic to squeeze a huge breast and tantalize and pinch the nipple, Flavia sucked in her breath and grunted, then embraced her lover.
But the priestess gently but firmly shoved her away. "Listen well, little one," she said. And she moved her head forward and her tongue was not and wet as she talked softly in Flavia's ear, and all the while, her hands were pumping at the throbbing breasts and driving the poor girl to an agony of passion.
"What's wrong?" Flavia pleaded. "Something's wrong, I know it."
"Everything will be alright,' the priestess said, and licked Flavia's ear.
"Let us make love, please," poor Flavia pleaded, and bit her lips.
"Be patient a bit longer," the priestess said, and took Flavia's taut nipples in her fingers and twisted and pulled until the girl was whining. And when Flavia's hand shot to her thighs, the priestess slapped it away angrily.
"You are to be favored above all others in the temple, Flavia," the priestess said, and she stroked the straining thighs, but only circled the desperate loins. "You have been chosen for a great honor but this must be a secret forever between the two of us."
"I don't understand," Flavia whimpered, and gulped down more wine, and an instant later, a flash of desire was surging' through her body again.
"You must trust me completely," the priestess said. "Come, now, get to your feet. We will walk slowly, and I will explain everything."
The priestess helped the trembling girl to her feet, and in truth the waves of passion that possessed her body made her nearly to weak to walk, and she was dizzy from the heat and nauseous in her stomach, and the hands and lips and tongue of the priestess were driving her beyond rationality, and she groaned again and again as she stumbled down the corridor, her hand scraping the marble wall.
"The rites and the rituals and the prohibitions you have learned are of course ancient and sacred," the priestess said. "But for a very special neophyte such as you, the great goddess Juno makes exceptions. You will be allowed to sample pleasures of the most divine nature, forbidden to everyone else in the order, including me."
"Oh, I don't understand all this," Flavia said. "I'm burning up. I can't endure this any longer. Please, I must have release. Let me love you. Please."
"You want to make love?" The cunning priestess stroked across the girl's aching loins.
Flavia gasped. "Please, yes, Oh, I can't stand this. I've never been so aroused."
The priestess guided Flavia around a corner, then through a locked door the girl had never passed through. This part of the labyrinth beneath the temple was even colder and mustier than the part Flavia knew and through her sweat and the heat that envelope her, she shivered.
"Just ahead there is a door through which you will pass," the priestess said. "There you will make love, Flavia. It is a divine honor. You are not to resist or ever question. Remember, you have sworn utter obedience. If you do as you are told, great honors and rewards will be yours. If you resist, you will be severly punished."
"I will obey," Flavia gasped. "I will do anything, anything to be able to make love. Though I understand little of what you are saying."
"Understand that you are too young and naive to question anything I command you to do," the priestess said, and they paused.
The priestess kissed Flavia full on the lips, and it was a wicked arousing kiss, and her hands went quickly over the breasts, and then her fingers stroked the fiery loins, and Flavia groaned and whimpered and rocked her body back and forth.
Then the priestess pulled abruptly away, and took the trembling, burning girl firmly by the arm and dragged her down the corridor. She stopped and opened a door and shoved Flavia in.
The poor girl cried and stumbled forward into the dim, musty chamber. Then the door clanged shut behind her. She whimpered, and then looked up, and her hand shot to her mouth to stifle a gasp. For a few feet in front of her stood King Quonus and from beneath his tunic stretched the most massive instrument in all of Veii.
CHAPTER SIX
It is recorded in the ancient chronicles that the mighty statue of Juno seemed to sway on its pedestal, an awesome sight for those women in the temple and surely it struck fear into the heart of the high priestess. It can't be said for certain that it was anything but a natural cause, perhaps a tremor in the earth, that caused the huge statue to totter for a moment. But devout men who worship the proper ways and fear the wrath of the immortals could say without question that the edifice of the goddess shook because of her rage at the sacrilege of her order, being violated in the bowels of the temple dedicated to her worship.
We will never know, but things that happened later tend to substantiate the theories of the anger of the goddess and the vengeance she chose was to be a devastating one.
But the shaking stone resettled itself, and the orgies continued outside and the women, priestesses and neophytes, settled down for a night in their chambers of pleasure. And far below the statue, little Flavia staggered back, screams choking in her parched throat.
But Quonus sprang past her and blocked her way, then bolted the door. He caught the terrified girl in his arms, and pulled her to his body, and great was the flood of fire and passion that coursed his body as he felt her enormous breasts and her struggling thighs rubbed against his thighs.
"No, no, I can't," Flavia screamed, and beat at him with her small, ineffectual fists. "I am pledged to Juno."
Quonus ignored her struggles and her pleadings, and he wrapped his arms around her, and crushed her harder, delighting in the feel of her of hot, quivering body. He smothered her tearstained face with feverish kisses. And his huge hands slid down to cup her jutting, squirming buttocks, and a flash of blinding lust poured over him as he shoved her buttocks, and his instrument rubbed between her thighs.
Ah, and little Flavia, despite her remembrance of her duties and of her role as a servant of Juno, still she was a woman, this girl of barely fifteen, and well done had been the work of the high priestess. For Flavia's body was jolted with a fire and a flood she had never known, and when Quonus' massive instrument poked between her thighs, she shrieked, then went stiff, then her body went into spasms of shock and passion she could not control.
"No, no," she groaned, but now her hands melted down his back and then she wiggled against the alien, unknown instrument and moaned and dug her nails into his flesh, and sank her teeth into his neck until he gasped.
They fell back onto the couch, and not for an instant did either pause. The lust which the high priestess had so well ignited now consumed Flavia, and she rocked beneath his body, clawed at his back, and mashed her lips over his mouth, and the kiss she shoved into his mouth and the ways her tongue moved-all things learned well in her long lessons in the temple-excited him more than any kiss any woman had ever bestowed on him. And her driving, gyrating body, her twisting hips and jerking thighs, each part moving in a frantic symphony of desire, had him blind with the rage of sex, and he pumped and squeezed the divine mounds he had ripped free of the tunic, and his breathing was not that of a human being.
"Now," Flavia screamed, clawing his buttocks, and spreading her thighs wide. "Don't wait. I can't endure another second."
She bit his lips and tongue until he tasted blood, and drove her wicked fingers into his buttocks until he howled with pain. Then did the mighty king rip both their flimsy garments off. For a moment he fell to her breasts with wet, sucking lips, delighting to take her hard nipples and nuzzle and bite them, while his hands tickled and tormented her loins.
Then he fell between her golden thighs, and mighty was her screech when first he drove his gigantic, stiff instrument against her loins.
"I can't stand the pain," she howled, yet the next instant she was opening her sleek, powerful thighs still wider, and tossing her head wildly from side to side and biting her lips against the pain.
There was no art to their coupling this first time, no poetry. It was an animal thing, and the art and poetry would come later. Now their lips sucked and their tongues lashed, and their bodies rocked, and Flavia clawed in lust and agony at his back and buttocks and he slowly but steadily violated her loins, and the pain was searing, a hot streak of white agony up the inside of her body. And yet through all that agony was a divine pleasure that would have driven insane a normal girl. But not our Flavia, who moaned and whined, and screamed for more, and then when finally she had been fully invaded, worked with the king stroke for stroke, rocking and tossing and using her thighs and buttocks and pulsating muscles in a hundred places, and her scalding, flooding loins seemed to have a life of their own, and fabulous were the ways they possessed his gigantic offering and took from it the pleasure her body screamed for.
Sweat covered them both and their animal grunts and gurgles mingled and they soared to such twin peaks of ecstasy as to think themselves immortal-for who among men has ever known such divine pleasure?
When they dropped from the peak and screeched and clawed, then lay still, except for the frantic breathing which poured out, Flavia did not for an instant think of the great sacrilege she had now committed.
She merely twisted her thighs and a dozen muscles squeezed his instrument and he gasped and in an instant they worked again, and again, though slower, there was no art or poetry between them.
But instinctively, Flavia was doing the right thing, knew at once how to twist, and how to squeeze and how to work those marvelous muscles that so delight a man, and in return, she felt throughout her body a pleasure never experienced in all the variety of love session with the women of the temple.
After this second round, Flavia did pause a moment. But not Quonus. He had discovered that vessel of pleasure for which he had sought so long, and he was saturated with an obsession to explore and consume this new gift, and he had no thoughts of mercy or compassion.
Now that his initial lust, which had built to the dangerous point, was somewhat slaked, he leisurely began an examination of Flavia's lush body. First, he kissed her half-closed eyes, then licked around her perfect, warm, damp lips, and then shoved between those open lips his tongue, and he. delighted in the response of her slender tongue, far too daring and imaginative for the tongue of one so young. She lay still while he kissed down and licked her breasts-heavenly mounds they were, large and round and soft yet firm, topped with delicate, huge nipples which hardened in his mouth. He bit the nipples and wallowed his sweating face in the breasts. And then he kissed down and circled her flat, jerking stomach with his lips, and she ran her fingers through his hair.
When his lips licked her burning thighs, she groaned and twitched, and when he kissed the loins, licked them and went berserk in a moment with passion, she gasped, "Wait, not yet, I'm not ready."
But when she tried to move her thighs together, she got a slap for her efforts and then his strong hands roughly spread the thighs, and then the hands cupped and squeezed her mounds and he worshipped her loins with hot, wet kisses and she arched her body in delight, and clawed at his scalp.
Before either had reached their peak of excitement, he tore his lips away and again mounted his little goddess and slower than last time still, and with less of the animal and more of the poet did they frolic, and more muscles did little Flavia discover, and well did she use them all.
It was a long frolic this time, and their lips met in sucking kisses, and their hands roamed and pinched and tickled, and slowly they drove each other insane. And then switching rhythm, and working in a divinely slow pace, then quickly, then slower still, they climbed to a blinding point of excitement, and at the end, Quonus suddenly twisted abruptly, and his instrument struck new girl, adjusted her thighs in a new manner, doubling her knees and turning on her side.
And her nails went deep into his buttocks, and his fingers badly bruised the hips and thighs and buttocks of the maiden, left marks of blue and ugly purple on her tender flesh.
And together they moaned and rocked and built, and then there was a last flurry of churning thighs and gyrating buttocks, and in each one, shots of cold then hot flashes raced unchecked and before Flavia's eyes exploded a rainbow of blinding color, in Quonus every gland went berserk, and the river that finally flooded down caused him to claw her body and bite her slender neck, and the sounds that poured from his trembling lips came from primitive place far inside his soul.
Now they were both spent, and they rolled apart, each gasping out breath and bathed in sweat, their heart racing and the blood pulsating at their temples. Finally, Quonus scrambled to his feet. He gazed down at Flavia with blurred vision, wondering indeed if this young girl was merely a mortal, or if he had by some fortune stumbled onto some creature divine.
Quickly, he dressed. Then he knelt beside her. "I'll come tomorrow night at the same time. Do not fail me."
"I'm so confused," she said, and brushed a tear from her blue eyes. For now that she was rational again, she was having doubts and fears about what she had done.
"You are a divine girl," Quonus said, and brushed strands of her blond hair from her damp face. "And the finest woman for love I have ever seen. I will teach you all there is to know about the ways a woman should love and please a man."
"I'm so frightened now," she whimpered, though hypnotized by his dark, half-mad eyes. "Haven't we done something terrible-won't we be punished?"
"You will be punished only if you disobey the command of your king and your high priestess," he said. "Who are you, a mere neophyte, to question our wisdom and our knowledge, girl? And answer in truth, did you not enjoy your time with me?"
"Oh, I did," she said, without hesitation. "Though I must confess I ache terribly. For my body is not accustomed to so mighty an instrument as you possess."
"It will be easier each time," he said. "And there will be many times. For as I said, I will make of you a perfect goddess of love. Now kiss me to seal the bargain, and I must be gone, for still I am king, and there is an army at our gates."
Flavia put her arms around his neck and kissed his lowered lips, a soft kiss that exploded abruptly as she lashed her tongue inside his mouth. Then he pulled away, and was gone.
She lay back, her breath still coming in gasps, and wiped sweat from her face. She still glowed and her nipples tingled from the pleasure of her lovemaking with the king. And she knew she would surely meet him again, and she even smiled slightly as she thought of his words that he would teach her the Etruscan lore of how to love a man.
Yet she could not help but have misgivings. It had been drilled into her and had become an absolute part of her life that never, under pain of the greatest penalties could she have a man. Then she remembered his parting words, and she told herself surely he must be right. Who was she, an insignificant little neophyte, to question the commands and wishes and knowledge of her king and her high priestess. Perhaps she had truly had chosen for a divine honor. She knew beyond a doubt that the pleasure had been divine-had been so divine she would return for another time no matter what the cost.
She got to her feet and slowly dressed. And she was more and more pleased now that the king had chosen her. What an honor! Ah, little did she know the calamities that would follow her sacrileges. And true to his word, Quonus would teach her the lore of Etruscan love. But for a man so selfish and cruel, simple lessons in love and the possession of her body could never be enough. The very appetites of perversion and excess that drove him to dare the wrath of the patron goddess of his city and violate his trust as Veii's ruler would only naturally drive him to inflict on his helpless victim untold miseries. For in the catalog of Etruscan lore he knew many things of pain, and not just pleasure.
But Flavia had no knowledge of this as she slowly walked down the cold, musty corridor. She was stunned to find the door to the regular part of the temple locked, and for a moment she started crying, and glanced over her soulder. Then she realized it was natural it should be locked, lest she be discovered with the king.
So she went back to her chamber of love and waited, and soon enough the high priestess came for her. Flavia told her briefly what had happened and how the king had demanded her presence the coming night. The high priestess put her arm around Flavia and escorted her back to the temple, commenting that tomorrow night she would certainly meet the king once more, and that after that, the king would be disposed to bestow lavish gifts on both of them. Flavia protested that she wished nothing, and indeed, it seemed strange to hear the priestess scheming.
But Flavia knew not that the woman had observed the entire session from a secret passage, and knew full well now the depths of the king's obsession with the maiden. And now that the high priestess had accepted the necessity of giving in to the king-had not found her belief in her goddess, and he oaths of devotion at any costs to her duties strong enough to face torture and death-she had quickly resigned herself to the inevitable, and become greedy and scheming. So she planned to give Flavia again to the king, and then withdraw the girl in the future unless Quonus heaped on her the rewards she desired. And she felt that whereas in the palace she had been at the king's mercy, here in the temple she was safe, for if the king were found to be violating the ancient sanctity and possessing a priestess, he would surely be tom to bits by the angry citizens.
And so Flavia was escorted back to her cell, and instructed that she was to speak of her experiences to no one. The high priestess praised lavishly her devotion to her duties, by obeying the wishes of Juno, even when she did not understand them. And the evil woman made Flavia swore an oath that she would go to the king only so long as Juno willed it, but that if the priestess heard from the goddess to the contrary, Flavia would obey her and refrain from letting Quonus possess her.
And Flavia swore to it all, though she understood little of what was said. She sensed in some hazy, naive way that she was a pawn, yet she dared not let herself believe the woman entrusted with interpreting the wishes of the divine Juno could be wrong and dishonest in any way.
Flavia was left alone, and she bathed herself, then took some liquor. Her loins still ached and her thighs were sore, and her muscles felt they had been pulled raw. She was uncertain and a little frightened as she lay on her soft couch, but one thing was certain, and that was the ecstasy she had felt when Quonus made love to her. She was still thinking of the multitude of new pleasures she had discovered, when she drifted off to sleep.
But Quonus did not sleep that night. Though satiated by his assault on Flavia's body and excited by the thoughts of what pleasures lay ahead with the girl, he was, for all his cruelty and excess, an able king in many matters, and particularly in the sciences of making war.
He sat up that night, and drank wine until late, and then wrapped himself in a cloak and toured the towering walls of his city, walking slowly along the broad battlements and gazing out at the flickering lights of the Roman fortifications. He had already despaired of getting aid from other Etruscan cities-and indeed he knew full well the lack of aid was due to his nature-and so there was no chance the Romans would soon be attacked from the rear.
Quonus knew the nightly raids the Etruscans were having less and less effect, and he reasoned they might by now be an actual help to the Romans, for they kept the troops alert, and provided a nightly diversion in what could become a deadly routine. Yes, he mused, might he not be wiser to cease all attacks, and let the Roman grow bored and indolent. Then, in the winter, when their complaints against their leaders were loudest and they sat huddled and complaining in their miserable quarters ,then might a massive raid destroy them with one blow.
Quonus returned to his palace, and called in his advisors and ordered more wine. For on Flavia, and already was beginning a long, slow excitement as he thought of ways he would instruct that young, ripe body.
And so the word went out to the field commanders and no more night patrols went out. It was a popular decision, for the Etruscan had no need to grow bored or bitter, with their home city at hand, and soon soldiers were drinking wine and toasting their king, as they rolled between the thighs of willing, lusty girls.
And what of the high priestess? We know not how she spent her first night of infamy. But it could be fairly guessed that she did not design to look upon the statue she had sworn to serve. Probably she lost herself in the arms of some tender, young neophyte, wallowing in sensual pleasure, and convincing herself that the sin was on Flavia and Quonus.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The deadly routine of siege duty was indeed nibbling at the Romans, and many a brave soldier grumbled that the Etruscans were cowardly dogs not to meet them in open combat. Marcus threw himself into his duties, but even he soon became bored. In one of the final Etruscan night attacks he excelled in skill and bravery, and when his centurion was killed, he was immediately promoted to the command of the hundred men of his unit.
And as a reward he was given a few days of leave. He did not have time for a proper trip to Rome, and went instead to a nearby town that had signed a treaty of peace with Rome. There he busied himself with the business of eating, drinking and possessing as many women as he could find. And handsome a soldier, and he was not in the least hindered by now being an officer.
When he returned, he found the boredom growing worse, and tried his best to keep his men occupied. Quonus would have been pleased had he seen the effects his plan was having on the Roman army.
But Quonus had no thoughts at all of war, for he was making his way along the secret passage beneath the temple, and already his mighty instrument throbbed with desire.
And no less eager was little Flavia, preparing herself in her cell, under the approving eyes of the high priestess. Again, she was offered wine, and again she drank without knowing the powerful aphrodisiac, though it was hardly needed on a girl so eager for her assignment.
The priestess observed this at once, and decided it was not necessary to excite her further with hands and lips. When Flavia was ready, the priestess merely kissed her cheek, then walked part of the way with her.
"Please the king, my child," she said. "Make him desire you beyond all reason.
"I will, of course, do as you command," Flavia said.
With a final kiss, the priestess unlocked the secret door, and let Flavia go alone to the chamber where the king waited. Then she locked the door, and hurried to the passage where she might observe in secret Flavia's work.
The king was impatient, though he wanted to move slowly and extract from this night every ounce he could. He nearly gasped aloud at Flavia's beauty when she appeared, and she walked slowly toward him, her thin tunic flowing softly against breasts and buttocks and thighs in an alluring way that caused his instrument to jerk.
Flavia's loins did not remain still, but yearned to possess that enormous shaft of passion and the girl bolted forward, prepared to smother her king's face with wicked kisses.
But he stepped back. "Stop where you are!" he commanded.
The girl froze, suddenly frightened that she had done something terrible and would be punished. A shiver raced up her rigid spine, and she nibbled her lips. Then the king stepped to her.
"Remain still, with your hands beside you," he said. "No matter what I do. But obey my commands."
"Yes, your majesty," she said, in a weak voice, her blue eyes wide with apprehension.
With one brutal gesture, he tore her tunic off, and she doubled up her little hands into fists at her sides. But as instructed, she did not move. Then Quonus, his nostrils flared with lust as he stared at her lush, bare body, ran a rough hand over her golden thighs, and she trembled and shivers dotted her burning skin.
"Spread your legs wide," he barked.
Flavia was quick to comply. She was frightened, to be sure, but this game of sex excited her, and she eagerly awaited the next development. But when Quonus shoved his hand against her loins, she jerked and gasped and moved half a step before she caught herself.
"Oooh, ah," she whimpered as his massive hand spread wide the lips of her treasure, and then her knees nearly buckled when his fingers shoved deep, and a wave of aching heat raced over her body.
The texture of those young, unspoiled loins were unlike anything the lustful, worldly king had known, and he sucked in his breath and rammed his fingers further. Then with a delicacy surprising in a man so brutal, he twisted and tickled and savored each feel of her hot, pulsating treasure, for truly it was pulsating, and little Flavia was near collapse with ecstasy.
She began to move her thighs a little, then gyrate her buttocks in rhythm with his steady fingers, and with great skill and without speaking a word he taught her how to move and twist, how to hunch and open, how to close, taught her how to react to each subtle movement of his fingers on each part of her loins, taught her the use and pleasure of many muscles, and through all this Flavia maintained control, though she was sick with desire, and her nipples ached and her heart pumped and rivulets of pain and exquisite feeling tore all her. Sweat ran off in huge drops and her sounds were low and came from deep inside her.
And Quonus also maintained control, as he taught her to move without thinking to the command of his fingers. But finally, the poor girl could endure the arousing torment no longer.
Her little hands shot out and grabbed his massive. rigid instrument desperately and lovingly, and he grunted at the touch of her fingers. But he brutally shoved her back and cursed her.
And when he tried again to begin his instruction, and his fingers touched her loins, she cried out and tried to shove his hand harder; he grabbed her breasts and rubbed them fiercely.
"Hot little bitch." he snorted. "You'll learn as I desire." And so saying he grabbed her and threw her to the couch and dropped down beside her.
Of course, Quonus knew not of the doctored wine she had consumed, nor had he any idea of the unbearable flame it had caused in her loins. She was mad for some kind of release and tossed and whimpered like an animal, and tried again to grab his instrument.
He slapped her then, and she screamed, and her cheeks blazed and her nose went numb. And then he grabbed her little wrists and crossed them and held firmly with his left hand.
"Obey me and control your passion until I am ready to use them," he said, and climbed on her jerking thighs and held them rigid with his knees.
"I want to, but I can't," she sobbed, and still her loins jerked and begged for relief.
"Submit to my will and control yourself, or by the immortals, I'll whip you raw," he thundered.
With a mighty effort, Flavia controlled herself, though she was greatly aided by the lessening effect of the aphrodisiac. Finally, he released her hands, which she kept rigidly at her sides, while he continued her instruction.
Quonus climbed off her thighs, and again his rough, knowing hands slid over the hot, wet, smooth thighs, and curled over her loins. She gasped and her buttocks twitched, but she clamped her teeth into her lips and kept control of herself. Thus began her instruction anew.
The king, again without a spoken word, worked with her loins and thighs, and taught her many things, many moves, many ways to twist. She learned then a score of bizarre and unique positions, kneeling, squatting, on her back, on her stomach. And then again she lay with her thighs spread wide, and was taught how to move a muscle just a bit, how to twist a thigh a subtle fraction, a hundred delicate ways to bring new joy to a man's instrument.
And indeed hardly had her education begun, for the king knew many things and was teaching Flavia only the simplest. And by now, his own desire had completely overcome him. He snorted like a workhorse when he gripped her thighs and shoved them wide and then fell to her.
Flavia arched and screeched out once, then she sighed and received his offering that she had so desired, and purred with pleasure as she closed her thighs about Quonus, and felt his movements.
She remembered each thing she had been taught, and twisted and opened and closed and ripple muscles at the perfect time, while he worked steadily with a variety of rhythms that had her whimpering and clawing at his buttocks.
At times, she would alter her position, sometimes moving her thighs, sometimes a movement so subtle it was nearly unnoticed, except by his instrument, and he would buck and snort and smother her sucking lips with kisses, and the rhythms they achieved with their lips matched that with their loins, and their tongues were wild, berserk things, lashing and teasing, and their teeth bit and nibbled.
Then as their excitement built, Quonus shifted abruptly, and Flavia groaned and rolled slightly, and locked her knees together behind him and humped with all her strength, then spread her legs and then moved them by degrees, each time using different muscles, and he, in turn, altered his pace, and pumped first with a fury, then slowly, and all the while, their kisses continued, sucking kisses which in their perfection contained a hot, wet poetry. And poetry was their motion now, the flowing of their bodies, his muscular and brutal, out knowing all things, her slim but ripe, innocent no longer, learning everything.
They soared up to their divine peak and took the screaming, agonizing, blinding fall yet never ceased their movement with each other, merely altered their rhythm, and shifted so that Flavia lay on her side, one leg tucked beneath her, and built again their steady, exquisite ecstasy.
And then again they loved, this time with Flavia on her stomach, and Quonus at her rear, so that he grasped her breasts and squeezed them, punished them with crushing, painful pleasure, and Flavia opened and closed her loins and thighs in a difficult yet wonderful manner that brought a new kind of pleasure to them both, and had them whimpering like animals, then purring like huge, strange cats.
The painful pleasure this way was so good that as Flavia opened and closed her loins and he perfectly slid in and out, she clawed at the couch, and moaned. Finally, they were forced to rest, their breathing coming in great gulps, their bodies spent.
But in the secret passageway, the high priestess, excited by the sight of the beautiful Flavia being taken in all these different ways by a man, could not control herself and she slid a hand down and shoved against her burning loins, her gasp might have been overheard, were it not for the heavy, irregular breathing of Flavia and Quonus.
The release came quickly for the woman, and then she staggered back, her own breath pouring out now, and trembled for a moment. Then she turned and moved quickly down the narrow passage, smiling to herself. For her next meeting with the king, the delightful little Flavia would be given just the opposite of something to arouse her, and Quonus would come to realize he had to bow to the will or the calculating woman to have the nymph he desired.
Her plans seemed so simple as she returned to the temple. Her ambitions soared and her greed grew unchecked-though we know not how wealth could be of use to a woman who was destined to live forever in a temple. Perhaps she plaimed to leave the temple in time, and lead a normal life. We will never know for certain. We know only her part in arousing the wrath of Juno.
Later, the king crept from the temple, and Flavia returned to her cell for a night of deep, untroubled sleep. The city slept also, knowing not that its peaceful nights had been numbered by the gods.
The next day, Quonus thought little of the war, and brooded much on his obsession with Flavia. He knew full well he must have the girl each night. Yet he knew full well the risk he took, and understood that if discovered he would be doubtlessly killed. And he realized, also, what a vulnerable position he was in, for all practical purposes at the mercy of the priestess each time he crept into the temple. He brooded much on all this, and drank much wine, yet could devise no solution to his problem.
And that day also, Flavia brooded much, also. This was the pattern of her life now-to worry during the day and wish for her freedom, then beg the forgiveness of the goddess for thinking of leaving her temple, then losing herself in a frenzy of sexual pleasure. And each morning, she awoke and worried more.
And on this day, after a morning of dancing and chanting rituals and learning about a variety of kinds of incense, she was, with the other neophytes, given instruction in something that both greatly repelled and attracted her.
Since she was locked in the temple, the threat of the Romans did not bother her. It had no effect on her daily life, and indeed days would pass at a stretch when she did even think on the war.
Then abruptly this day, the high priestess called together the neophytes and several of the priestesses, and gave a long and bitter explanation of the struggle with the Romans. Then she talked of the ancient glory of the Etruscan nation, and how important to the Etruscans the pleasures of the flesh were.
And then she discussed the several unique roles the priestesses that the temple of Juno played, in perpetuating the ancient worship, in placating the wrath of the goddess and keeping her blessings of the city of Veii, and in performing the dances at festivities and victory celebrations. And then the priestess talked of how the women in the temple, by being virgins to men, were different and therefore superior to other women-and at this Flavia blushed and her heart started pumping.
The high priestess paid no attention to the squirming girl, but proceeded to say that an additional duty of the priestesses was at critical times to perform certain acts on captured soldiers, and cause them the degradation they deserve because they had dared to war against Veii, or to extract from them information even the most brutal tortures had not pulled from their lips. And, the priestess added, since it was known that none of the priestesses had ever been taken by a man, it gave an added dimension to their treatment of prisoners.
And little Flavia, poor child, twisted and turned redder as the priestess went on to discuss in elaborate detail the things about a man and sex none of the young neophytes knew-except for her.
And when she had finished explaining in detail, she said: "Each of you will become an expert in some particular aspect of tormenting a man, and breaking a man to your whims. And thus you can readily see that our total dedication to pleasure can have its practical side as well."
There was a flurry of excitement among the girls, and Flavia also was strangely aroused at the thought of the coming lessons. Yet, each time she remembered her sessions, with Quonus, she blushed again, and realized how very different she was from the other girls with whom she had entered the temple. And she all of a sudden felt like bursting into tears, wondering if, after all, what she had done had been wrong, and she would be punished by the goddess-for if in truth men were to be despised by the order in the temple, how could it be proper in any way for her to have given so much pleasure to the king?
But she had not long to worry, for the priestess had finished her talk, and now two priestesses brought into the chamber a huge chest, and when it was opened, the little girls gasped and stared with huge eyes-for it contained dozens of instruments and devices and slaves and lotions obviously designed to wreck torment of anyone unfortunate enough to be subjugated.
The question arose as to how they would perfect their skills, since there were no men present. But the priestess smiled, an evil, taunting smile.
"Each day, one of you will be selected, the one who most deserves punishment," she said. "It will of course, not be the same as with a man. But you will get some idea and no end of practice, and equally as important, you will each have an opportunity to know the extent of the suffering."
The luckless Octavia was chosen for that first day. She had been out of favor since her first refusal to join in the activities of the nightly love sessions and though the severe and bizarre way she was punished had quickly brought her into line, she nonetheless had made her lack of enthusiasm for the life of a priestess quite evident.
The girl, protesting but resigned, was stripped of her thin tunic and placed on her back on a broad table, and her wrists and ankles bound. Then each priestess chose a girl and instructed her in the use of the instrument or device that would be her specialty. Ah, how little Octavia cried and moaned, shrieked and jerked. Soon enough will it be soon what these little girls were taught, for they were in short time to become directly involved in the war.
But for now it should only be noted the reaction of our Flavia, for her attitude to this aspect of her training, like everything else, was having a profound effect on her, and in time would effect everyone in the temple, indeed in the entire city.
She stood now, this child of fifteen with the incredible woman's body, with a massive reproduction of a man's instrument strapped around her thighs and hips. And she alternately was repulsed and aroused and then giggled at herself.
She had never liked Octavia, in truth there had several times been harsh words them. So she did no hesitate when her turn came. Still giggling she climbed onto the table and crawled between the shaking, moaning girl's widely spread thighs, and clumsily but accurately, and with force and cunning parted the lovely, white buttocks and thrust home. Octavia shrieked and jerked, but Flavia paid no attention, and listened carefully as the priestess taught the intricate subtleties of using the instrument.
Octavia was writhing in shame and agony when Flavia climbed down, and took off the alien instrument. Then she stepped back, her breath heavy, her heart beating rapidly, her nipples hard, as the priestess strapped the instrument on Octavia, as it would have been were she a man. And a short girl with black hair and enormous breasts took a strange device covered with an itching salve, and worked it viciously over the instrument.
And when these lessons were over for the day, Flavia's excitement had soared. She ate no dinner but fruit and wine, then retired to her cell to prepare for her usual rendezvous with the king.
She was quivering with excitement, yet knew that the high priestess was even preparing a solution for the girl's wine, which would keep her from getting aroused at all.
But Flavia quivering, burning body and the schemes of the priestess could well have waited. For Quonus, his brooding heightened by an instinctive feeling that all was not well in his arrangement and there was some design on the part of the priestess, and perhaps Flavia as well, had thrown himself into an orgy of sex with women in the palace. None could replace the divine Flavia, but Quonus bought time, and he had enough confidence to believe he would soon enough devise a scheme which would remove most of the danger, yet still allow him to instruct and possess Flavia at will.
When he did not appear at the temple, the priestess was struck with fear and dread, and Flavia was sorely disappointed. She dragged herself finally to her cell, and contended herself to spend the night with a priestess, but she had now the knowledge of sex with a man, and no woman, no matter that she was a representative of Juno, could ever satisfy her again in the same way.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Some little time passed, and events were sweeping toward momentous conclusions, though none knew at the time, as peace and tranquility seemed to reign-if the siege of a city can be spoken of in those terms.
Quonus had found a young chamber maid in the palace and busied himself with her while he fretted away the time until he could have Flavia on his terms and with no dangler involved. And slowly, he had evolved a plan. It was very simple, and though with risks involved, still, it was far less risky than the visits to the temple.
The king decided, simply, to get the high priestess out of the temple, and announce to her his plan: to have Flavia delivered each night to the palace, disguised, and for the priestess herself to take all the risks involved. Quonus had well figured her greed and planned to dangle reward in front of her. But he decided also to get her into a compromising situation, and hold the threat of exposure over her head.
But Mars, the god of war, would not allow the king's plans to interfere with his whims, and before the king could act, even while he was letting his imagination roam over Flavia's ripe body, Quonus was caught up in the grips of his duties.
Events had been going against Veii, and the result was that the great city was now blockaded, and its citizens huddled behind its walls. And the selection of Quonus as king had proved so unpopular with other cities that they had refused aid. But as time passed, some of these cities began to worry and to realize that once Veii fell, they would be next.
Now the Romans knew full well that the advantage they enjoyed with their siege would not last forever, and they had prudently erected fortifications at their rear. But the absence of the night attacks by the enemy had reduced the army to a state of indolence and boredom. And the morale of the besieging was not helped by a constant feud between two of the most prominent military tribunes.
And bad as the condition of the garrison at Veii, far worse was the state of the troops who occupied the town of Anxur. Steadily, local people had been admitted through the gates to trade. And in truth, many Roman soldiers themselves left their posts frequently to barter about the countryside. Shameful service for the noble Roman army, so feared and respected! The sentries at the walls and gates were attacked and quickly overwhelmed by the local citizens. Roman casualties were not heavy, but this was no cause for rejoicing, for there were few soldiers in the city at the time, the rest being out in their dastardly attempts to gamer profits by acting as tradesmen.
Had the Romans only realized this, they might have had an idea their fortune was changing for the worse. For rapidly the garrison outside Veii was falling into a state of chaos, with discipline lax, and despite the efforts of some officers, such as Marcus Valerius, little was done to change the situation.
The Etruscans throughout the area were encouraged by the action at Anxur. And overcoming their loathing of Quonus, the cities of Capenae and Falerii attacked the Roman army outside Veii without warning.
Particularly fierce was the point where the tribune Manlius Sergius commanded. Shock, chaos and panic spread quickly through the Roman ranks and it was thought the entire Etruscan people had taken up arms and were sweeping forward by the thousands. Some Romans, and Marcus was among them, fought bravely and held their own, but their losses were staggering.
Then the army of the city of Veii, realizing what was happening, was ordered to the attack, and the misery of the Romans was doubled, for they now were fighting on two sides. Their position was hopeless reinforcements arrived .from the main Roman camp. But the commander of the camp was a man who was locked in A bitter feud with Manilus Sergius, and said he would send aid only if his rival asked for it. But the tribune, despite the heavy losses of his men, preferred defeat to asking a man he despised for aid-day of shame for our noble city when defeat is a less bitter cup to drink than aid from a compatriot.
And so the Romans were crushed slowly. And finally, leaving a rear guard commanded by Marcus Valerius, the tribune Manilus Sergius withdrew with the remnants of his battered army, and marched back to Rome.
Great was the bitterness and consternation in the city, and Sergius threw all the blame on his arch enemy, the tribune Verginius, who was still in the field. The Senate ordered Verginius to Rome, and when it heard the terrible accusations which each made against the other, it was decided that all the military tribunes should at once resign.
There was some opposition to this, particularly on the part of Verginius and Sergius. And some small threat of a civil war. But it was short-lived, and in due time all the tribunes resigned. New ones were duly elected and scarcely had they taken office, when the plight of Rome seemed suddenly hopeless. Hopeless not because of military defeats, but because of the attitudes of the citizens themselves. People were weary of the constant wars, and when the new tribunes announced that old men as well as young would have to serve in the army, and that taxes would be increased, there was again raised the threat of civil strife.
Men shouted and trembled with rage at fellow citizens, and all thought they were suffering terribly and being asked to pay far too high a price for victory over the Etruscans. But what did they know of suffering and a high price, compared to the men who had been left outside Veii?
Sergius had escaped with some of his men, because of the bravery of Marcus and his men. But they were small in number and besieged in front and back, and the Romans were slaughtered. Few survived, and indeed, Marcus would have died fighting or killed himself with his own sword rather than be taken prisoner. But before he could perform the noble act of suicide, he was struck on the head with the flat side of a sword and rendered unconsciousness.
Hours later he awoke in Veii, chained like a dog to a wall in a damp, foul cellar, and nothing did this noble warrior get to see of the fabled city of erotic pleasures, and its avenues lined with erotic statues.
His captors wanted from him two things. The first was information on the Roman strength and plans. And the second was the satisfaction of tormenting and breaking a Roman officer.
They applied the lash and the fire with equal brutality and skill, but they got no information from this brave Roman, and despite his groans at his agony, he merely spit his own blood at his tormentors.
After a day and night of this torture it became obvious they could not in this way break Marcus. And so they abandoned their torments and allowed him a night of peace in a filthy cell, and he full expected when the sun rose the next day that he would be put to death. Such is the fate any soldier knows may befall him some day, and though Marcus little fancied dying, he was too weary and too wracked with pain to do anything but drop into a heavy, troubled sleep.
Great was to be his surprise early the next morning. He was rudely kicked awake by his guards, and his hands were chained behind his back, and his ankles fettered so that he had difficulty walking.
Then he was dragged before a conclave of old men in white robes and consigned, as best he could understand, to the temple of Juno. He was blindfolded and prodded along, and then dragged up steps, and finally he entered a place far cooler than the outside. He was forced down on a cold stone slab, his garments ripped off, and he was left chained with his hands behind his back, and his legs. wide spread with his ankles fastened to the stone with chains.
He was left alone, still blindfolded, and in a few minutes, he heard around him the soft voices of women, chanting to Juno, and then he smelled incense, and he wondered if he was to become a human sacrifice.
Below the temple chamber where Marcus lay chained, while the priestesses sang out their chants to Juno, the neophytes scurried about, whispering excitedly. Flavia was alone in her cell, when several girls burst in.
"Get ready," they shouted. "We're to prepare ourselves and be ready when the priestesses call us, Flavia."
"But what's all the excitement?" Flavia asked, springing from her couch.
"Haven't you heard?" someone asked. "There was this battle and Veii won a great victory, and they've brought us a captured Roman soldier."
"Yes," someone added. "I peeked and saw him, and he's quite the most handsome man I've ever seen. And really big. I mean, in every way."
Everyone giggled, and then they ran from the cell and left Flavia alone. She remembered their lessons in tormenting captured soldiers, and now there was a real Roman placed before the statue of Juno. The other girls were delighted, because they were still virgins, and they would have the chance to examine a mem in detail, and study him, as they performed their sacred duty of exacting information and breaking his will. But Flavia blushed for she knew full well the intricacies of a man and his sex. Though she was still puzzled and hurt by the fact the king had returned to see her, seeing another man was not the subline new thrill it was for the other neophytes.
But Flavia was tired of her love with the women, and as she began to prepare herself, she felt her nipples tingle, and thought of the instrument she would soon have strapped between her thighs. And she knew other girls would arouse the Roman's desire beyond the point of endurance, yet not let him find relief, and she remembered the king's lust and the straining of his instrument and wondered how this soldier would stand it But he is the enemy, she reminded herself, and as a servant of Juno it was her sworn duty to make him suffer without compassion.
And so, somewhat later, Flavia and the other neophytes were led up to the main chamber, and they gasped and strained to stare at the handsome, muscular soldier who lay chained and blindfolded.
The priestesses were conducting a service to Juno and the incense was sweet and thick, and Flavia was for a moment choked and blinded. Tears stood in her wide blue eyes and then she cleared her vision and stared at Marcus, and she looked over his muscular frame and bulging instrument with a far more appraising and knowing eye than the other maidens, or even the priestesses.
After what seemed an eternity to Flavia the service was ended. Then all the women gathered around Marcus. But the older women were leaving to the neophytes the task of subjugating the Roman soldier. And indeed, the young girls were quite eager to try their skill, and reap the harvest of this new sensual experience.
Marcus breathed in the heavy, sweet incense, and became aware of other voices around him, younger voices, soft with a touch of sex, and he realized his instrument was reacting also, and then he heard an excited flutter of soft laughter. He understood that he was going to be put through some new kind of ordeal, and told himself that after the brutal torture at the hands of the rough soldiers, after the agony of lash and fire, he could endure anything.
Poor Marcus! He knew not that brave men can endure many kinds of torment, of the most terrible and brutal nature. But there is a combination of humiliation, desire and pain that can break a man and in this ancient temple, there was an ancient ritual for this kind of subjugation.
The blindfold was removed from Marcus's eyes and he blinked and then his heart raced, for he was surrounded by a bevy of the most beautiful young girls he had ever seen, each dressed in a thin tunic that did little to conceal her thrusting, uptitled breasts and flaring hips and the prized treasure between her sleek thighs.
Under normal circumstances, he would have delighted in possessing each of them, in making long, wild love, in losing himself with their lush bodies. But no such pleasure awaited the brave soldier this day!
For each girl was educated in a particular, specialized way to bring humiliation and suffering to him, and to make him squirm and suffer before Juno.
Now for an instant Marcus was amused at the thought that these lovely maidens would try to torment him, and no little bit sexually aroused.
They were gathered around a large chest, and soon enough did they turn eagerly to their victim, and Marcus' amusement faded quickly, and he saw in their menacing, mocking eyes, which betrayed the innocence of their fresh, lovely faces, that he was in for a rough time.
They had various devices and instruments that made him shudder, and then a tall, slender girl with black hair and large, almond colored eyes, a beautiful girl in every way, stepped to him and took from a container a salve of brilliant green. And with an evil grin on her face, she applied the salve to his chest and nipples, with soft, delicate touches of her slender fingers.
An incredible burning shot through his chest, and his nipples seemed points of agonizing fire, and he groaned and tugged against his chained wrists. The burning continued but which it now came a sickening passion that swept his body and caused his massive instrument to jerk and throb and burn terribly.
He tried to stifle a groan, but could not, and the beautiful, darkhaired girl continued to rub the maddening salve on his chest and nipples. His body jerked and he thrashed and bit his lips until he tasted blood. He could not believe how easily this maiden had brought groans from his lips, far quicker than the men in the torture chamber with all their heavy brutality.
After what seemed hours, but were in fact scant minutes, the girl stepped back, still smiling, and Marcus, his breath in snatches of agony, looked up now into the narrow eyes of a short girl with enormous breasts which pressed against her thin tunic, the long, pointed nipples nearly tearing the cloth.
She held in her small hands two small devices which she proceeded to fasten to his burning nipples, all the while smiling in the most naive and innocent way. The fiendish device closed tightly on those burning nipples and shot rivulets of pain through his chest, and Marcus clawed at the cold stone beneath him. Again, he could not control the moans that escaped his lips, and his suffering was made all the more acute and embarrassing because it was being controlled by a lovely girl who had also ignited in his body, in addition to the searing pain, the flames of surging passion.
And then the girl, while twisting the device to wring from the compressed nipples spasms of hot pain, leaned down and brushed Marcus' lips with her warm, soft lips and his instrument jerked and he groaned.
Now a maiden of slim body and ripe breasts, her black hair framing her lovely face, peeled her tunic off and displayed for Marcus her Marvelously developed body, and then she smiled wickedly and climbed on the stone slab, and knelt over his face.
Never in his lusty life had Marcus seen loins so huge and damp, surrounded by such a hedge of dark hair, and he tried to twist his face away as the girl lowered her body. But with her hot, slim thighs and her little hands, she held his head rigidly in place, and paused an inch from his scarlet face, and he sucked in his breath and was smothered by the strange, strong, stimulating yet sickening smell that drifted down.
Now something cold then scorching had been clamped over his stiff instrument and he could see, the blinding except for the hovering body of the maiden, and panic and pain stabbed at Marcus, and a fear unlike any he had ever known, in the grimmest battle.
Though he knew not what oppressed his instrument, it was a thin membrane treated with a substance brought long ago from the East, and it was held in place by a small girl with light hair and rosy cheeks, and then the girl rubbed slowly, and scratched with her sharp, cruel nails. The substance inflamed Marcus' with a desire more acute than any he had ever known, yet though he was aroused instantly to a blinding peak of excitement, the substance prevented him from reaching a climax. It was a cruel punishment, and one impossible to endure this side of madness, and with the staggering pain from his chest and nipples, he whimpered, surprised at his lack of control and fought for air.
And then the girl lowered her body and held him rigid and pressed her hot loins over his face, and his moans were smothered out. There was a concert of agony and desire throughout his body, and he could control his panic. And he fought desperately for breath and only choked. When the girl raised herself slightly, he gasped for breath, and then the devise was pressed harder against his nipples, and his instrument was stroked and the desire burned inside him in ways he had never known, and could not endure.
Then there were other stimulants and other pains, as more girls applied their peculiar and dreadful skills, and Marcus was made to worship the loins of the beauty who straddled him, that with his mouth and lips and tongue, or be smothered. And his will to resist had been stripped away, and now maidens with special feathers tickled his loins and stomach and thighs, and others applied hot, sharp instruments to the places where an instant before had felt the unbearable touch of a feather.
And finally this combination of devices and torments and salves had wracked such agony in his body, had so inflamed his loins yet kept him on the brink of climax without letting his body have the relief it demanded, had so humiliated him, and he was so lost in the world of the loins of the little girl who could smother him at will, that suddenly he screamed, and then as waves of nausea and rivers of agony, hot and scorching, and spasms of sickening desire all coursed his body, he screamed again and again.
When he was asked to tell about the Roman army, he did not hesitate, but babbled out what he knew, now a puppet at the hands of this array of little beauties. And then when he prayed for death, and thought he had endured every humiliation devised, the girl on his face raised up, and through her sleek dripping thighs, he saw another girl standing at the far end of the stone slab. She had blue eyes and blond hair and was by far the loveliest creature he had ever seen. Her body was perfect and staggering in its proportions, but strapped between her honey-smooth thighs was an enormous replica of a man's instrument.
She crawled up on the slab, smiling slightly, and Marcus knew what this final indignity would be, and with his courage and honor gone and his will to resist broken, he whimpered and jerked and begged.
Then each of the girls returned to her bizarre task, the nipples were tormented, the instrument stroked to madness but given no relief, the features tickled and the sharp things hurt, and again, he was forced to lavish slavish kisses on the girl's loins.
He felt something hard and stiff at his buttocks, and then a white hot streak shot up his buttocks and he felt he was being split in half. He screeched and screamed and clawed at the stone until his fingers bled. But he found no pity, and the searing pain continued to move up and down, slowly and steadily, each time a little further and little harder.
Flavia had only a short time to assault him, and in a strange way that excited and repelled her, she enjoyed shoving the instrument into the incredibly handsome soldier and having his body jerk in agony and humiliation to her every thrust.
Then Marcus lapsed from consciousness and his body went limp. The high priestess ordered the girls to stop, and then commanded them to take the prisoner down to a cell. She added that tomorrow there would be another session.
Flavia was one of the girls who helped carry Marcus down, and she ran her hand over his bulging muscles and remembered an instant when his pleading eyes had met hers, and she had felt a moment of compassion.
But as they dumped him in a small, grim cell, she told herself she was being foolish to think anything for a sworn enemy of Veii. The high priestess told the girls that they would take turns guarding the prisoner, though with his arms and legs securely chained, he was utterly helpless.
Flavia was exhausted and as her turn did come until much later, she went alone to her room, and went to bed. She fell asleep with her hands dancing slowly over her loins, as she thought of the Roman soldier.
CHAPTER NINE
That night while Marcus endured the agonies and humiliations of the little maidens and Flavia forced him to suffer her terrible degradation, Quonus strutted about his palace, pouring down many goblets of wine.
He had good reason to swagger and boast, having been the architect of a plan that had defeated the hated Romans. But though he was wise in the ways of war, his arrogance and vanity overcame his good sense, as usual. For one thing, he underestimated the importance of the aid Veii had received from the neighboring Etruscan cities. And the king also let himself forget that while Veii had finally broken the siege and defeated one Roman force, it was a long way from winning the war. And instead of planning ways to follow up this victory and press the attack against the Romans before they had time to recover and regain their strength, Quonus drank much wine and gave free reign to the lust that permeated his body.
And he at once thought of Flavia. Now the immediate danger to Veii had passed, he was seized with a desperate desire for the exquisite little neophyte, and decided again that he would have her at any cost.
His victory over the Romans, if anything, had made him even more reckless, in his relations with the immortals. His pity before had never been strong enough to make him give up anything his insatiable body demanded. But since his troops had won a stunning victory over the Romans after he violated Juno's sacred and ancient law, and took the virginity of a maiden sworn to her service, he felt himself utterly invulnerable to the wrath of every god and goddess that existed.
Ah, foolish mortal to think he or his city could be spared when he let himself consider such a thing. Perhaps he did not realize that for a transgression as great as his, the wrath and revenge of Juno might be slow, but when it fell on him and his city, it would be terrible.
He had no notions that night, as he swilled his wine and pawed at a beautiful, dusky-skinned maiden, and thought of Flavia. He threw the girl to the couch and took her roughly, and thought still of the girl in the temple. Later, as he lay alone on his couch, filled with wine, he swore that tomorrow he would devise a plan to get Flavia.
But his good fortune had a while longer to run, and events fell to his design. For the next day, the high priestess, obsessed with her newly-found greed and worried as to why the king had not returned to the temple, decided to visit him, on the pretext of conveying the information on the Roman army that Marcus had divulged.
Little did the scheming woman know that she was playing into the king's hands, and committing an act of high foolishness to leave the sanctity of her temple. But greed can blind the wisest person. And so when the sun was high, she instructed that nothing should be done to Marcus until her return, then left the temple.
Great was the king's joy when a servant told him that the high priestess of the temple of Juno begged an audience.
He received her graciously, and ordered that wine and sweets be brought. And while there were servants about, he asked nothing of her concerning Flavia. And the priestess reported the information Marcus had divulged. The king praised the work of the women, though he knew the information was of little enough use to the Etruscans, since Marcus was an officer of low rank.
But finally, after the necessary formalities, Quonus dismissed his servants, and moved from his throne to the couch where the priestess sat.
"What of the girl?" he asked bluntly. He had a plan, and knew what he was going to do, but he. wanted to see the moves of the priestess, and see if his suspicions of her intentions were correct.
And indeed, she fell straightway into his trap. She very slowly sipped her wine and had the confidence to eat a sweet before answering.
'The girl is a lovely as ever," she said. "Though as I assume, of course, that you are no longer interested in her."
"And what if I still had an interest?" he asked.
She smiled with satisfaction. "Then the price would be high, I'm afraid."
"And what of my threats, of torture and death?" he asked.
"I let my fear overcome my judgment," she said. "For you not dare to torture or kill the high priestess. The people would overthrow you."
"But what if the priestess was found committing a sacrilege?" he asked, and was unable to suppress an evil smile.
Now fear suddenly stabbed at the woman. "What do you mean?" she asked. "I'm always faithful to the creed in everything I do."
"Fool!" the king snarled. "You dare to bargain with me!"
"You can't have the girl until you do as I want," she said, but she was frightened now, and she looked from his wild, black eyes and sipped her wine nervously.
Quonus snorted out a laugh, and turned and walked quickly from the room. On guard outside was a brute of a soldier, a dull-witted fellow who knew nothing but to do as he was commanded. And he had previously received a strange command from his king.
When the king nodded, he went inside the chamber where the high priestess waited, and without a word, he tore her tunic from her body. She screamed and stumbled back, while the brute calmly took off his own garments, and stood grinning, his instrument pointing at the cringing priestess. But he did not move.
And Quonus summoned two women and a man, who knew of his schemes, and together they reentered the chamber and pretended horror and anger at what they saw.
"Sacrilege," one of the women screamed.
"Scandal," said the man, and shouted curses at both the soldier and the priestess.
"She should be stoned," said the other woman."
"I'm innocent," the priestess screamed, as she tugged her tunic on. "He ripped my tunic off, but did not lay a hand on me."
"She invited me to possess her," the brute said, remembering well his command from the king.
'That is a lie," the priestess shrieked. She turned on the king in a desperate fury. "I'll tell everything."
But Quonus suddenly picked up the spear the soldier had dropped and with out a word, he plunged it through the brute's body. The soldier clutched at the spear, then toppled to the floor dead, without saying a word.
"I think he told the truth," one of the women said, with a leer. "The priestess should be stoned. I will testify that she enticed him. I am a witness."
"And so am I," said the other woman.
"Leave me alone with the priestess," the king said. "This is a serious matter and we must discuss it privately. Go and refresh yourselves with wine."
And so the three perjurer left, filled with satisfaction and already scheming among themselves how to enrich themselves at the king's expense once they disposed of the high priestess for him with their false testimony. But Quonus knew well that a man who will lie for gold will lie twice and is capable of any evil for his own gain, and he had instructed a trusted servant that they should be given a very special wine, so that they never spoke again, true or false.
But the priestess, now standing on legs so weak they nearly buckled, knew only that the king had three witnesses who would testify to her sacrilege of sex with a soldier who lay dead, and could not deny anything. She was not a brave woman, and quickly her greed dissipated, as she realized that here in the palace she was at the mercy of the king.
She was utterly defeated and she sank wearily onto a couch and poured down half a goblet of wine. "I'll do what you want," she said softly. "I'll arrange for you to have Flavia whenever you desire."
"I knew you were a reasonable woman," the king said, smiling with triumph. And he threw her a small golden bracelet. "There is no need for you to unrewarded. But don't let your greed overcome your good sense, woman."
The priestess brightened, for she saw she could still command some modest amount of reward. "Do you wish me to prepare for tonight?" she asked.
"Of course," he said. "But there will be a change in our arrangement. The girl is to come here to the palace."
"But that is impossible," the priestess said. "What if she is discovered out of the temple? No, it is far too dangerous."
"She will come here," he said. "It is far better she be discovered out of the temple than that I be discovered in the temple. I have made certain arrangements to protect us all. But the girl comes here. Do not question me."
"Very well," the priestess said, knowing full well it would be useless to protest The king poured more wine and he told the woman of his plans, and said that he had arranged they should have their rendezvous in a small pleasure dome at the rear of the vast palace gardens, and that Flavia would arrive in a cloak and be admitted by trusted servants through a small, unused gate, and that if anyone saw her from a distance, she would be thought only another courtesan coming to provide the king with his usual night of pleasure.
And so the priestess left, and walked slowly back to the temple. She examined the bracelet and told herself she could yet acquire wealth if she did as the king commanded and did not cross his commands. Now she thought of the Roman soldier and decided she herself would administer punishment today, for after the humiliation at the hands of the king and the soldier, she relished the idea of having a man at her mercy.
But at the moment the cruel priestess strolled down the broad avenue lined with huge, erotic statues, the Roman soldier was at the mercy of Flavia, whose turn it was to stand as guard.
There was no chance of his escape, since his hands were still chained behind his back and his ankles shackled. But each neophyte stood her round of guard duty, armed with a little silver whip.
And the girl before Flavia, a cruel, spoiled child, had used her little whip freely, and delighted in tormenting Marcus when he asked repeatedly for water. For after his ordeal, his lips were parched and his throat as dry as the sands of the desert.
Now, Flavia took the silver whip, and when the other maiden left the cell, Flavia closed the heavy, metal door, and stood staring down at her helpless prisoner. And her gaze fell for a long time on first his straining instrument, then on his eyes, pleading and yet still deep and strong, and those dark eyes lit something deep inside Flavia she had never before known.
And in Marcus, too, something stirred, as he looked up into the blue eyes. Not one word was spoken at the beginning. And Flavia, who had had her moment of cruelty the day before, now felt only compassion for the helpless, suffering soldier, and repulsion at the bizarre agony she had helped inflict on him.
She threw the evil little whip down, and fetched water and bathed the bleeding cuts the previous guard had inflicted, and Marcus moaned softly as the cool water poured over his cuts, and he felt Flavia's delicate, small fingers.
Then Flavia realized his thirst, and she gave him cool water to drink. And still they had not spoken, except with their eyes, which looked deep inside each other. And all the while, Marcus' instrument burned and jerked at the nearness of so exquisite a maiden, and he was touched greatly by her kindness, after the manner in which she had helped torment and degrade him the day before.
And desire was purring inside Flavia, also, and her nipples tingled and there was faint fever in her loins, and she felt hit and her cheek's glowed red. he gasped when she ran her hand tentatively over his muscular, bruised body, then he groaned, and deep inside Flavia something groaned also, and in a reckless instant, an impulse seized her and he leaned forward and brushed his lips with her, and fever flooded both their bodies. She jerked her mouth away quickly and glanced at the door.
Then she looked back at her prisoner, and smiled faintly. "What is your name, Roman?" she asked, very softly, and traced a finger around his lips.
"Marcus Valerius," he answered, and kissed her slender finger. "And what are you called?"
"Flavia," she said.
"A heavenly name for the most heavenly girl," he said. "How can one so young and lovely and tender be caught up in a worship so cruel?"
Flavia sprang to her feet. "You should not talk of the divine Juno in that manner," she said. "I am dedicated to her service for life, without hesitation or question."
"But that's wrong," he said. "In Rome, we, too, worship Juno, but not in this fashion. Are you never to be free? Free to be a woman?"
"My life is dedicated," she said, very quickly, for his questioning had brought sharply to the surface the anguish she constantly felt at her fate.
"Do not talk to me in this manner. You are my prisoner, and I could punish you severely for your impudence."
"No doubt you could," he said. "You seem to be trained well in the ways of cruelty. But I think that deeper there is something that detests this.
"I'm sworn to chastity," she said, and blushed furiously. "I must remain a virgin to men all my life." She had barely uttered the words when she remembered how she had given herself to Quonus, and she felt sick and hot and wretched.
She snatched up the whip and struck him across the chest, leaving a deep cut which oozed blood. He jerked and moaned and she drew back to strike him again.
"I'll whip your loins until you learn to know humility before a priestess of Juno in Veii," she screamed.
But she looked again into those dark, piercing eyes, and her anger faded as quickly as it had engulfed her. She looked at the whip and threw it across the cell as though it was a snake. And then she bit her lip as she saw the cruel mark her anger he'd left on his chest. She fell to her knees and cleaned the cut with water. Then she kissed his lips, a full, driving kiss in wish her tongue drove him berserk with lust in Em instant. Never had Marcus been kissed so expertly, never had lips and tongue and teeth combined in such a kiss of magical delight. And then abruptly, she jerked away.
"I must be mad," she muttered, and brushed a strand of blond hair from her damp forehead.
And mad she was, indeed, but mad with a sudden and urgent fury of desire, greater then any she had ever known or imagined, and she glanced longingly at the soldier's gigantic instrument, poised and waiting, and she looked back at his burning eyes and knew he was as desperate as she.
Then on an impulse she could not control, she lifted her tunic, and breathing wildly, her nostrils flared, making grunts like an animal in heat, she mounted Marcus, and pressed down, and she whimpered with savage delight as her quivering loins received his rigid instrument. And no less like those of a wild beast were the sounds that escaped Marcus' trembling lips. His torment of the previous day had left him in an agonizing fit of unbearable lust. And now that his loins were joined with those of Flavia, he was soared into a world of screaming, searing passion, and would surely had died on the spot had she pulled from his instrument before his release was achieved.
But there was no worry of that, for Flavia gyrated madly, using every trick and movement she had learned, both from the women and from Quonus, and she twisted and leaned and jerked, and inter-worked a score of rhythms, and all the while her incredible muscles were steady and not of someone human.
In an instant, Marcus screamed and humped his body as his desperate lust was satiated in a wave of hot, molten pleasure that nearly left him unconscious. But Flavia did not paused an instant, but worked her feverish magic and in a moment his instrument had responded and they were both jerking and whimpering with delight.
Then Flavia's body glowed as though touched with a thousand white-hot needles and she shifted her body and changed her rhythm and used other muscles in her pumping buttocks and straining thighs and driving hips, and finally she dug her pumping buttocks and straining nails into his body and shrieked like a wild woman as her pleasure soared through her sexually insane body.
Then there was a sound in the corridor outside and she whined and fell away from Marcus, scrambled to her feet and jerking down her tunic. She looked wildly at Marcus as though he might betray her massive against her hemp tunic, when the high face scarlet and her heavy breathing heaving her priestess entered the cell.
"Come with me, my dear," she said. "I'll send someone else to stand guard. Though I can tell by your behavior and the cuts on his body and his agonized way of breathing that you've been enjoying yourself."
"Yes, I've enjoyed myself," she muttered, laughing to herself that she had in some manner, or due to some favor from the gods, had given in to her reckless impulse and escaped being caught.
She threw the whip down and followed the priestess to the door. As she walked from the cell, she glanced over her shoulder an instant at Marcus, and smiled very faintly. And he spoke her name on his lips, though there was no sound.
"Your fortunes have risen again," the priestess said. "And tonight you will go to the king."
"Oh, no," Flavia blurted. "I never again want to be with him."
The priestess stopped and gripped Flavia's arm, and her voice was hard and cold. 'There is no choice, Flavia," she said. "It is your destiny and there is no need for you to question it. If you try to resist, you will only be punished."
"How can the divine Juno sanction such a thing?" Flavia asked.
"How dare you question me on such a matter," the priestess said. "You are far too young to know anything of what Juno desires. Now, go to your cell. Stay there all day, and take careful care to prepare yourself." Then the woman's voice softened. "My child, don't be so sad. It is a great honor. And you will be able to get out of the temple for a time. Does that not excite you?"
"Oh, yes, I'm glad for that," Flavia said, nibbling her lip and avoiding the priestess' eyes. "But what of the Roman soldier?"
"Ah, now I see," the priestess said, and for a moment Flavia feared she had betrayed herself. "You are afraid we will continue his torment without you, but I will see that you miss nothing. We will let him regain his strength somewhat, and lie in his cell. I had personal plans for him, but they can wait. We will wait until you can be with us." Now Flavia saw the opportunity to postpone Marcus' torment. "Oh, thank you," she said, and kissed the woman's cheek.
Then she turned and ran to her cell, and took some wine with water. Her mind was racing, but not with thoughts of Quonus, for she determined somehow to help Marcus to escape, and she realized this was possible, since she knew the secret entrance to the temple.
CHAPTER TEN
Flavia longed for an opportunity to see Marcus before she left to meet the king, but she dared not raise suspicions. So she contented herself with knowing he would not be tortured during her absence. And finally, after a light dinner of cheese and fruit and wine, the priestess led her through the secret passage, and out of the temple.
This entrance was hidden behind a huge stone statue of two women and a man making love, was indeed a part of the statue, and would have been impossible to detect. Flavia was instructed to follow a deep gorge lined with thick-leafed bushes, and at the end of the gorge, she would be met by someone.
She put on her cloak and pulled up her hood and crouched down and ran into the gorge. She was quite secure here, in the darkness and shielded by the thick bushes and furthermore still on the grounds of the temple which were forbidden to everyone.
Flavia walked slowly, for she had no desire to hurry to Quonus. All the pent up feelings of desire for sex with a man which the king had awakened in her had been awakened anew as she gave the gift of her loins to Marcus. And already she felt for the Roman soldier something far deeper than mere lust.
But she knew she must go and please the king, and she reasoned with herself her time with him would be far from unpleasant, though she cared little for him.
The night was clear and crisp and there was a touch of cold in the air. She glanced at the brown and red and yellow leaves and inhaled the cool, fresh air and remembered her life locked in the confines of the musty temple.
She was nearing the end of the gorge now, at the edge of the temple grounds, and she was a tall figure, also in a cloak and hood. No word was spoke. The hooded figure merely nodded and walked swiftly away, and Flavia followed him.
They kept to small, side streets and when they saw people, they huddled in dark doorways. And finally, they came to a massive wall, and the hooded figure led her to a small gate and knocked three times. In a moment, the gate was cracked open and Flavia stepped inside and the gate was quickly shut and locked by another hooded figure.
She found herself being led through a huge garden, where gigantic trees hovered acres of carefully trimmed beds of flowers. There were small pools of water clear as glass, where white swans glided, and in the distance she saw a rock garden and a small waterfall. And everywhere were white marble statues of men and women in the most bizarre poses of love.
Then her hooded guide led her to a small building, round and with eight miniature columns across the front. Her guide nodded and then stepped back and in a moment he had vanished into the shadows.
Flavia moved forward with short, uncertain steps, and walked past the columns, and into a small room, ornately furnished with thick yellow and green carpets, with hand-woven scenes of unicorns and griffins, and walls of dark cedar in which were carved scenes of love, inlaid with ivory silver. On one side was a massive yellow and green couch filled with silk cushions, and on a low table in front of the couch was a silver pitcher of red wine, and plates of tiny, delicate roasted birds and slices of meat and a score of exotic, colorful fruits. And everywhere was the smell of incense, deep and sweet and provocative.
Flavia stood inside the door, looked slowly around. And then to one side she saw Quonus, and she gasped. For he stood completely naked, his huge instrument rigid, and calmly sipped wine from a silver goblet.
"Welcome, my dear," he said, and crossed the room and sat down on the couch. "Take off your garments and sandals and come here."
Flavia obeyed slowly, and though she told herself she did not wish to be here, still she realized her body was responding to the prospect of more of the king's rough, expert lessons in the ways of Etruscan love.
When she had stripped her clothes off, she turned slowly with her hands above her head, for the king to admire her body. Then she walked to the huge couch, and the soft, deep rug tickled her feet, and she giggled.
She started to sit, but the king put up his hand. "Stand there," he commanded. Then as she posed for him, shifted her weight to one leg so that her rounded, luscious buttocks poked out, and turned slightly so that her soft, huge breasts were emphasized, the large nipples pointing upward.
Quonus let his eyes devour the maiden and he drank his wine and felt a mighty stirring in his loins. Truly, just gazing on the girl was a joy worth more than possessing many women, he told himself, and wiped wine from his chin with the back of his hand.
Then he put the silver goblet on the low table, and reached out and touched Flavia's flat stomach, and she gasped and went stiff, then forced herself to relax, though she felt hot and his tickling fingers excited her.
"Spread your legs wide," he commanded, his voice suddenly hoarse with lust.
Flavia did as she was told and moved her feet wide apart on the soft rug, so that her fabulous treasure was exposed and waiting. The king sat forward, his breathing short and quick, and he stroked down from the stomach, delighting in the way Flavia's stomach quivered to his touch, and further delighted by the incredible texture of the maiden's hot, smooth, sleek skin, which glowed with obvious desire.
She gasped and a shot of pained ecstasy ran up her body and caused her breasts to heave when Quonus slid his hand over her loins and pressed sharply. Then her nipples went hard and ached wonderfully as those huge, rough, knowing fingers parted the loins and rubbed and teased and stroked in movements calculated to bring on sensual madness.
With both hands now the king worked his wonders of desire and madness, and Flavia whined with the pulse of the heat that flooded her body. And the king, also, was caught in a flood of passion, so insanely did the responses of her quivering, knowing loins excite his fingers and from there race up to shorten his breathing and leave him a tense, weakened mass of nerve ends crying for release. But he controlled his terrible desire, and leaned forward-his fingers still working over her little treasure-and kissed a glistening, burning thing, a wicked, wet, licking kiss that brought from her lips a groan of delight.
Then the king kissed up the intimate, golden thigh, and he himself whimpered like an infant nursing as he kissed the loins, and he went berserk then with his kisses, and Flavia's knees buckled, and her hands grabbed his head and shoved it harder against her rocking body.
And now one hand joined his teeth and lips and tongue in the invasion of her scalding treasure, and the other hand slid around her squirming buttocks and did their own maddening work.
"Aaaah, aaaah," Flavia moaned and whined and whimpered and clamped her eyes shut as ever deeper and hotter floods of desire gripped her insane body.
No less aroused was the king, and he sucked and licked and slid his trembling fingers about in a frenzied dance, and his instrument throbbed and ached so terribly he jerked up and down off the couch, unable to control himself.
Then he suddenly took Flavia by the hips and threw her onto the couch. She winced and screamed and scrambled back to him as he stretched out. Without a word of instruction she knew what to do, and she crawled down and then backed up until the king's lips against her body sent a shiver of blinding pleasure over her. His hands gripped her pounding buttocks, and then she lowered her head between his sweating thighs, and when her own lips possessed the royal instrument, Quonus whimpered and thrashed.
It took but a minute for them both, so aroused were they, and their moment of mutual release was an incredible, beastly thing, thrashing and groaning, whimpering and kissing and jerkin, blurs of flesh dripping sweat, and they were transported to a place not known to mortals, to a pleasure so sweet surely the gods themselves must have been jealous.
And that was but the first and the simplest pleasure of a long night. For after resting a few moments, and refreshing themselves with wine-Quonus held the silver goblet while Flavia drank deeply, and with his free hand he stroked her golden thighs and she groaned her pleasure-they returned to the instruction and the sport.
For a long while, Quonus made Flavia lay back with her thighs spread wide, and he maddened her and inflamed her and taught her a hundred positions for those sleek, powerful, willing thighs, and then a hundred new ways to work her loins. Then he took her slowly, as she lay with her legs doubled sharply and bent back, each leg moving in a different pattern and rhythm, and all the time working muscles in her thighs in still different ways, and still other muscles in her loins. And she kissed his lips, his ears ,his face, a dance of lips and tongue, and quivered her stomach against his and moved her huge breasts beneath him, and her hands did a dance of their own, roaming over his pounding buttocks.
And Quonus also used many muscles and worked rhythms between her thighs that touched new nerves and brought new squeals and whimpers to her lips.
They slowly, steadily soared to their peaks of ecstasy and came down in a searing instant, and then they began anew. And later, Quonus showed Flavia many ways to kiss and use her lips and tongue on his instrument and she went to her newfound tasks with a girlish delight, as though she possessed a new doll with which to play until her heart's content.
Not until the first light of dawn streaked the sky did she leave the little palace of pleasure. She was drained and weary and satiated to the point of illness, while Quonus lay snoring on the couch, his instrument, earlier so proud and powerful, now limp and pitiful.
The hooded figure waited for Flavia and escorted her to the gate, and there she was met by the other figure, and escorted quickly through the narrow side streets and back to the gorge that led to the temple. As she hurried up the gorge she heard bird's singing and smelled the flesh air and saw the flaming colors of the autumn and she paused a moment, loathe to return to her life in the temple.
Then she remembered Marcus and just for an instant, she smiled and thought of his handsome face and the feelings that had passed between them. But a cloud descended over her pleasant thoughts, as she remembered her night of lust with the king. She could not deny the abandoned way she had given herself to the king. But she looked at the huge temple looming ahead and thought of Quonus, and all her life seemed to flow past her, and for a second she closed her eyes and prayed that she might be able to lead the life of a normal woman and have a family, and one man she would love always love wildly and without inhibition but one man.
Then she realized she was probably committing a sacrilege, and she scurried down the gorge and passed through the secret entrance, and finally into the main part of the temple. She went to her cell-the other women had not arisen yet-and waited for the call for breakfast. But she longed to run and see Marcus. She dared not, because one of the girls would be guarding him. So she rested and satisfied herself with the thought that later in the day it would be her turn to act as guard.
But her anxiety to see Marcus increased as the day progressed, and despite the way she had enjoyed her night with the king, each thought of him repulsed her, and she went about her duties and lessons in the temple and more and more she came to lathe her life there.
And then after the midday food and wine, the neophytes were called to assemble before the great statue of Juno, and Flavia learned quickly how much she could despise her life, and the order of women to which she was bound forever.
First, the high priestess called her aside. "I've just received word from the king that affairs of state will keep him from your side tonight," she said. "And so we can proceed with our plans for the captured Roman soldier."
Flavia went cold at the cruel gleam in the eyes of the high priestess, and at that moment she felt a burning hatred for the woman. But her hatred was to become far worse when the priestess spoke again.
"This time, my dear," the priestess said, mistaking the wild look on Flavia's face as a sign of approval and enthusiasm. "This time, we're going to spend all night on the prisoner. And not only you neophytes but we priestesses will practice our skills."
Flavia did not trust herself to speak, and stepped quickly into the group of neophytes. They already knew what was going to take place, and they giggled and talked excitedly. Flavia stood as though her legs were growing into the cold, marble floor. For she knew Marcus would be tortured in the most horrible ways, and surely would not endure the terrible night.
For a moment she looked up at the great statue, as though she hoped the goddess would give her a sign, would let her know that what she was going to do wouldn't offend her too greatly. But she scolded herself for daring to imagine a great goddess had time for the whims of a little neophyte. But this in no way caused her to change her mind. For she was determined now to help Marcus escape, and to seize with him one last moment of love, for she knew now this was what had passed between them in his foul beneath the temple.
When the assembly was over, while the other neophytes ran excitedly about, talking about the coming session in the evening, Flavia retired to her cell, to brood and worry, and wait for her turn as Marcus' guard.
She was miserable beyond endurance, and only the thought of seeing him again made it possible to get through the long, torturous hours without screaming. But finally, her time came, and she moved down to her duties as guard.
She took the silver whip from the neophyte on duty. But she closed the heavy door and immediately dropped the whip and ran to Marcus. He was lying with his eyes closed. And there were fresh cuts and bruises on his body, and Flavia knew some of the maidens had had their sport with him.
She moved to kiss his lips, then he groaned and turned and she realized she could never free him unless she got the key to unlock the chains. Without hesitation she ran from the cell, and took the key from the hook where the high priestess had put it. Then she ran back to the cell, and again closed the metal door.
Marcus was awake now and again their eyes locked, and they stared at each other a long moment. Then Flavia, her heart fluttering and the blood coursing at her temples, sank to her knees, and ran her hands over his cheeks, then circled his lips with a finger, and he tenderly kissed the finger.
Ah, these two would have loved to say much to each other, but it was not possible in such circumstances, for mortals must put to full gain what time the gods allow, and be thankful for whatever turn of fortune favors them.
So Flavia simply brushed his lips and muttered, very softly, "I love you." And he repeated her words. And much more would he have liked to utter, to this strange, beautiful young Etruscan girl who had tormented and humiliated him. and now had become his lover. And he had no doubt he loved her. He thought he was to die some horrible death, had resigned himself to his fate, and thanked the gods he could spend some few of his last hours with this goddess.
No more words were said. Flavia merely slid down and straddled his thighs, and then she pulled up her tunic and let her eager, burning loins consume his instrument.
Their time was short, and they had to stifle their groans of pleasure and grunts of love. Soon enough did they soar to their peaks of excitement, as Flavia twisted and gyrated and used all the tricks she had been taught to increase the delight of a man.
Then they could not stifle final grunts of passion, and Flavia thrust harder, and stiffened an instant then pumped her body urgently, went rigid, then fell away, gasping for breath.
Quickly did she scramble to her feet and straighten her tunic. Then before the amazed Marcus could speak, she unlocked the chains imprisoning his ankles. She quickly rubbed circulation back into the ankles, then helped him to his feet.
Ah, and why had she not freed his ankles and hands before they made love, and why did she now leave his hands shackled? The wise girl knew full well he would never abandon her if given a choice, and she could not flee with him, but knew she must remain in the temple and suffer her fate, and in this manner of sacrifice perhaps mitigate the wrath of Juno.
"Do not speak," she whispered, as she put her arms around him and helped him stumble to the door. "I'm going to help you escape, but you must remain silent and do as I say. Do you promise?"
Marcus, though puzzled, nodded his consent. She eased the door open and glanced down the dimly lit corridor. It was deserted, and so she helped him out, and they gained entrance to the secret passageway without being discovered. Flavia's heart was pounding, and her legs were weak and she realized that she was quite frightened and apprehensive.
When finally they had reached the outside secret door, and she had helped him out, she unfastened his wrists and helped him rub the circulation back. Then they kissed passionately, and she had to tear from his lips in order to keep control of herself.
"I won't leave without you," he said, holding her tightly.
And she knew he meant it. So she was forced to lie. "I must get some provisions I hid just inside," she said, tears forming in her blue eyes. "Then we will go down that long gorge and over to the far wall of the city where it may be possible to get over during the changing of the guard."
She tore from his grip, looked back once, blew him a kiss and darted inside the temple. Too late did he realize her scheme and he stumbled over, but found only the stone wall.
Marcus knew it would be impossible to gain entrance to the temple so with a heavy heart, he turned and made his way down the gorge, and at length and with the good favor of the gods he was able to make his escape and return to Rome.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
At the moment he was found by a Roman patrol a few leagues from Veii and started his journey to Rome, Flavia's turn of watch was up, and the escape was discovered. There was fury and panic in the temple, and a priestess was sent to warn the king. And there was little doubt that Flavia was responsible for the escape. At least, not to the high priestess, who knew full well he could not have gone out the main entrance undetected and therefore must have used the .secret entrance, known only to herself and Flavia.
The terrified girl was quickly dragged to a small cell and stripped of her tunic and strung up, her wrists bound by chains that hung from the ceiling. Flavia had expected to be caught and punished and she had told herself she was willing to pay this price. But now as she looked at the evil instruments of torture, she knew she could not endure the agony that would be inflicted on her, and she started crying.
"Leave us alone," the high priestess commanded and the other women relunctantly filed out. The priestess knew full well that in her suffering Flavia would babble about the king, and she was taking no chances.
The high priestess' fury knew no limits, and she fully intended to make Flavia pay dearly for her betrayal, for the priestess was supreme in the temple and had the power of life and death over the women.
Flavia dangled pitifully, her wrists cut and her blue eyes were wide with terror. And when the high priestess picked up a wicked instrument shaped like a man's instrument, but with short, sharp spikes, Flavia whimpered and her body shook.
"Please don't," she pleaded, tears cascading down her burning cheeks. "Oh mercy. Please don't use that thing on me. Oh, please."
"Little bitch," the priestess said, as she stepped to the whimpering girl, who was a vision of helplessness, terrified loveliness, her beautiful face contorted and her lush body stretched, the plaything for whatever torment the priestess could devise.
She slapped Flavia with her free hand, slapped her cheeks, until Flavia screamed and her face went numb, then white hot with pain. Then she slapped the huge breasts, and pulled and pinched the nipples, and pain shot over the breasts and the nipples ached so badly that the maiden doubled up her knees and jerked desperately at the chains that held her.
"Now you'll discover what you, you'll be cursing your own body for the agony it's caused you. That is, you're still alive.
"I confess," Flavia wailed. "I helped him escape.
I confess. Oh, please, don't use that thing on me."
But the priestess smiled and stepped closer, and with one hand she parted the sleek, golden thighs, and then brushed the sharp instrument over the thick hedge that surrounded Flavia's treasure. And Flavia jerked and screamed and then turned her head and bit her shoulder-and this not because of pain, for she had felt none, but in the agony of fear-ah, poor maiden, she would have lost her sanity at the first thrust of the cruel instrument into her loins. But the immortals did not will her to be so cruelly punished and indeed, the priestess should then have realized that Flavia stood high in the favor of Juno, if she could do a deed such as her act of treason, and be spared retribution in the temple.
For at this instant, the priestess who had been sent to report the escape to the king burst into the cell, and the high priestess released Flavia's body and turned toward the other woman.
"What's so important that you dare to interrupt me?" she demanded.
"The king sent a strange message, and I thought you should know," the priestess said. "He seemed unconcerned about the prisoner, but ordered troops to search for him. And then he said for me to tell you that affairs of state have been postponed and he expects from you the usual delivery."
The priestess looked at Flavia and went cold, for in her blind anger she had forgotten the girl was the king's favorite. And she knew she would pay dearly if anything happened to Flavia.
"Leave us alone again," the high priestess demanded, and the woman left.
Without a word, the priestess released Flavia, and the poor girl fell to the stone cold floor, and rubbed her aching wrists. Her heart was beating wildly and she was still sobbing, but she knew full well now she would be spared, and though she wanted nothing to do with the king, she knew without question she preferred his lovemaking to the high priestess' torments.
"Go to your cell and start preparing yourself for the king," the high priestess said. "And keep your mouth shut." Then she turned and walked out.
The experience and the agony of expecting the terrible torture shocked little Flavia terribly, and she moved more and more inside herself, and when she went to visit the king in his pleasure palace in the garden and she went several times a week she moved with no free will, but let her body respond as he desired. Something in her mind and heart and soul was shut off and she became simply a beautiful, ripe instrument of pleasure, and much pleasure indeed did she provide Quonus. In the temple, she was left alone, and went quietly and obediently about her tasks and her learning. The priestesses and the other neophytes thought she was being ostracized because of the escape of the soldier but since they knew not of the secret entrance, they assumed it was only negligence on her part and no one made love to her.
Life in Veii was normal now, and though some men advised that the Etruscans should unite and strike before the Romans gained their strength back, they were largely ignored. Citizens coupled off or formed groups and as the citizens of Veii had done since the beginning of recorded time, they lost themselves in orgies of sexual pleasure and not the least was King' Quonus. He had been chosen king for the sole purpose of military expediency, but now that the overt danger had passed, he lost all taste for his duties of war, and lived only for days of drinking wine, and nights of passion with Flavia.
Who can know how the fate of civilizations and cities is decided by the gods? But it is certain that at that time, the sun was setting on the ancient city of Veii, and a brilliant sun was racing toward the zenith for Rome.
Time passed, and the Etruscans did little, seasons came and went, and Veii continued its life of pleasure, with only the most feeble advances in its military situation.
But in Rome the situation was far different. To be certain, the strong, lusty men of Rome took their pleasures of wine and women, but many other matters occupied the city, matters more aptly fitting a great civilization.
For Rome's military future was constantly the subject of debate, and no end of turmoil and on a number of occasions, it seemed our ancestors were on the verge of civil war. There had always been bitterness and sharp rivalry between the patricians and the plebeians, and the seething feud constantly broke into the open after the disaster at Veii.
When Marcus Valerius made his way back to Rome, he found a city already divided, with different factions hurling charges and countercharges at each other, and a stranger might well have thought the Romans hated each other far worse than they did the common enemy. But a stranger perhaps would not have understood, as any Roman would, that this debate was a healthy sign, in a city of free men.
There was constant bickering over the taxes, and many common people were particularly bitter over their share of the tax burden, particularly since the plebeians were carrying such a brunt of the continuing warfare. For despite the setback at Veii, the Romans had several other armies in the field.
Debate raged, and Marcus recovered from his ordeal, and waited only to get back into action, for he thought constantly of Flavia, and swore that by all the immortals and all he held sacred, he would somehow rescue her. There was already talk of trying to regain the fortifications outside Veii, and he was determined to be a part of that army.
But more time passed, and he was sent on other campaigns. The Etruscans fortified themselves in their cities and would not meet the Romans in open combat, and so the Roman campaigns became matters of burning, looting and pillaging the countryside.
Fortifications were again gained outside Veii, and again the Romans suffered a defeat, but it was a relatively minor one. And now, the sun was truly setting for Veii.
Games of homage to the immortals were held in Rome, for never has our noble city ignored the deities and the Latin Festival celebrated, and finally, according to prophecy from a soothsayer, the waters of a large lake near Veii were drained for it was said that the great Etruscan city could never be taken so long as the waters stood in the lake.
And then the illustrious Marcus Camillus was named Dictator for the Roman people were willing to take any steps to bring about the fall of Veii. Camillus was a brilliant general, but he was also stern, and once in office, he invoked the martial to severely punish those who had deserted during the disasters at Veii. There was a new sense of hope and a new martial spirit in the city, when the time for enrolling new soldiers arrived, no one avoided service.
The first battle was fought against the forces of Falerii and Capena, and Camillus' generalship and the army's bravery and obedience to orders carried the Romans to a stunning victory. And then the Roman's took the enemy camp, and great was the valuable equipment captured. In these operations, no one fought braver or with more skill than Marcus.
For always did his thoughts return to Flavia, captive in the temple in Veii, and his anxiety was heightened, for he dared not let himself imagine what might have happened after his escape.
Now the army of Camillus went to Veii, and just seeing the walls again quickened the beat of Marcus' heart. Now, the Romans had been for some time digging fortifications around the city, but with Camillus' arrival, the digging was put to far more ingenious use. For it was decided to attempt to dig a tunnel past the massive walls and into the heart of the city.
The Roman leaders decided to continue the digging without interruption, and so did the troops work, groups of soldiers rotating the work. And troops were taken from patrol duty and other tasks and put to the digging, and slowly but steadily the tunnel was pushed closer and closer to the proud and defiant city of Veii.
Now the Romans sensed that victory was near, and there was a renewed sense of hope and expectation, and the troops worked all the harder. Camillus had already informed the Senate that he expected a massive victory, and said that he expected the ancient and wealthy city to yield an incredible amount of plunder.
The tunnel had progressed now beneath the walls, but still the Romans dug, and now at their head was Marcus Valerius. He was given this command because he had been a captive in the city and knew something of its layout. But he had desperately sought the assignment, because he knew what slaughter and rape would take place when the hated Etruscans were defeated, and he greatly feared for Flavia's safety.
Now Camillus ordered swarms of Roman troops to march on the city, to draw attention from the tunnel. Though the fate of Veii was sealed, no one in the city yet knew this, and even at the last instant, they were performing their acts of pleasure, and praying to gods and goddesses that had decided already to desert them and take new homes in the city of the Romans.
The advancing Romans were spotted, and the alarm sounded, and citizens abandoned their labors of pleasure and rushed with their weapons to defend the walls. Great must have been their wonder at this abrupt and seemingly senseless assault by the Romans on walls that could not be taken. But little enough time did the people of Veii have wonder at the actions of the Romans.
For already the Romans under Marcus had turned their tunnel to the surface, and as the gods might have willed, they came out in the gorge near the temple of Juno. Marcus sent most of his men to take the citadel and palace, and to assault the defenses of the walls from behind. The Romans, despite a fierce resistance from not only the Etruscan troops, but from women and even slaves, managed to open some smaller gates in the walls. Then the Etruscans were dislodged from parts of the walls themselves, and finally, the city's gates were thrown open and the Romans swarmed in.
Ah, great were the cries of anguish, and loud were the screams of agony. Women wailed and there were loud shrieks of terror, as the Romans slaughtered what resistance was left, set fires and quickly overran the city.
There was terrible slaughter, so intense was the hatred of the Etruscans and if one thing caused a moment's pause in the butchery, it was the sight of the gigantic, erotic statues. But if this decreased slaughter, it doubtlessly inflamed the troops, and they raped every Etruscan woman who fell into their hands.
Now, Marcus had foreseen this, and after making certain the city would safely fall to the Romans, he had dashed into the temple of Juno. The women were running about, screaming in panic. They did not recognize Marcus, awesome in his armor and plumed helmet, as the man they had so brutally tormented and humiliated. And any thoughts of revenge were far outweighed by fear for Flavia's safety.
At length he forced a woman to take him to Flavia's cell, and there he found her, cringing on her silken couch, and at first, she did not recognize this fierce warrior and fell back screaming when he advanced on her.
But then he threw away his sword and tore off his helmet and loud were her cries of joy and relief. She flew into his arms, and hurt herself on his armor, but she barely felt the pain, and she smothered his face with wet kisses.
There was a terrible din throughout the temple now, and Marcus snatched up his sword and told Flavia to lead the way to the secret passageway.
There shrieks and howls as Roman soldiers fell on the priestesses and neophytes, and with blows and threats forced them to demonstrate the lore of their ways of pleasure, that had become legend.
When finally Marcus and Flavia reached the secret passageway, and she led him to the small chamber where first she met Quonus, Marcus stripped off his armor and crushed Flavia to him, and her kisses were the wickedest and most feverish she had ever sucked into anyone's mouth.
While a great city was slaughtered and died, these two fell onto the couch, and far from the tumult and the screams, from the pillage and the rape, they intertwined their bodies, and without a word, they poured forth their love from every pore of their being.
Their love and passion could not wait and Marcus' instrument throbbed and Flavia's loins burned, and her nipples pulsated in his grasp. She spread wide her smooth, knowing thighs, and Marcus fell between them, and as their loins were joined, they both groaned and their nails and teeth did dances that left jagged trails of cuts and specks of blood on each other's bodies.
Marcus drove home his desperate love and lust with brute animal passion and fury and Flavia matched his strength and thrusts equally, but her loins and thighs and buttocks all worked their wonders, combined to squeeze and gyrate and throb a thousand pleasures she had learned and wanted only to bestow on him.
With an agonizing cry, Marcus finished, driven quickly to the madness of climax by her scalding, liquid, truly, but more like scalding honey, and Flavia also whined and twisted and felt the high tide of passion drown out those screeching nerves in her loins.
Ah, now would have been time for words, and for infinite tenderness. But the fortunes of war, which had been suspended this short interlude for them, now intruded abruptly. For King Quonus, in his desperate attempt to escape the holocaust which had devoured Veii, had remembered the secret entrance to the temple, and with two members of his personal bodyguard had made his way there.
He thought to hide in the very chamber where he had first taken Flavia, and later try to slip undetected from the city. Without warning he burst into the chamber and for the second time, Marcus was caught at a moment of crisis while naked, and in the act of love.
But he sprang up, and leaped across the room, and was able to recover his sword before the king's soldiers were able to attack him. He knew not that this was the king, only that it was the hated enemy. And more, he felt Flavia was threatened.
His fury, mixed with his skill as a swordsman made short work of the two soldiers. And then he faced Quonus, and though their fight was curious, the king was fat and slow, and Marcus heaved his sword into the stomach that had so often rolled on Flavia's undulating stomach though Marcus knew nothing of this.
Of Flavia's reaction we know nothing. We know only that as Marcus stumbled back, she muttered, "You have slain King Quonus."
And Marcus had no time for astonishment, for there were now shouts nearby, and he quickly donned his uniform and armor, and motioned for Flavia to put on her tunic. He stood at the door, ready to fight again.
But it was a group of Roman soldiers, who had discovered the secret entrance, which the king in his haste had not closed properly. Marcus had been missed and was feared dead, and now he was ordered to report immediately to his commanding officer.
Poor soldier, he was tom between staying with Flavia, and obeying orders, and in the end, he tried to do both. He took her with him leading her carefully through the burning streets, littered with the dead and dying. But now the slaughter had been ordered halted by the Roman commanders, and the screams and shrieks were dying out.
Marcus was ordered to return to duty, and he was forced to leave Flavia-one last, passionate embrace and kiss was all they had-and as she was taken to kept with a group of Etruscan women, and he went to join his troops, he swore that he would let nothing befall her.
Yet, the gods had not finished their designs on the poor girl, and therefore, what good were the oaths of a mere soldier? Marcus was sent to the outskirts with a troop of men, to ferret out a group of Etruscans who had secured themselves in a cave and refused to surrender. It was a small battle, but a long and grim one, and it was hours before the last Etruscan felt the edge of Roman steel.
But circumstances, like time, are relentless, and during the absence of Marcus, two events took place. First the enormous wealth of the city was collected-and never had the Romans seen such wealth-the stones off the gigantic erotic statues were worth a king's ransom alone. Many citizens had rushed up from Rome, and now the loot was divided among the Romans present-and some of the bravest and most deserving men, such as Marcus, received nothing.
And then the second event occurred-a calamity beyond measure for Marcus and Flavia, and he was not there to prevent it-for all citizens of Veii were sold into slavery. Indeed, had he been there, even with part of the wealth he might have received, it is doubtful he could have out bid the wealthy patrician who paid a fortune for Flavia.
When Marcus finally returned from his grim task, Flavia was another man's property, and loud were his cries of anguish and bitter were his protestations. And he thought of overtaking the cart transporting her, and with the fury of his sword freeing her.
And well might he have attempted this, had not older and calmer officers intervened. They realized full well his grief and the rightness of his bitter complaints. But the sale of citizens of Veii had been held by the state and all the money secured was destined for the public treasury in Rome. Any act now on Marcus' part would make him instantly a brigand, and traitor.
His bitterness seethed and he muttered curses, but he realized the wisdom and rightness of their words .and forced down his anger. He vowed that he would return to Rome and see Flavia and would in some manner he would raise the money to purchase her freedom.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Great was poor Flavia's fear and anxiety as she entered Rome, a slave among people that hated Etruscans. She was abandoned by Marcus and wondered if he had deserted her, or if something dreadful had happened to him. When the cart carrying her and some other slaves passed through the city's gates, many citizens shouted curses and shook their fists. But there was no abuse, for the Romans had won a great victory and had no need now for vengeance-indeed seeing the proud Etruscans as lowly slaves was revenge enough.
Some individual owners abused their slaves, of course-that is the nature of some men. But Flavia's owner was an elderly patrician who abhorred violence, though he was a stem man. That first night he possessed his beautiful, new slave, but as he was old, he was soon exhausted. And Flavia who had learned to act not as a human but an instrument of pleasure with Quonus, gave him the greatest pleasure of his life, without being touched in any way, other than her flesh. Then she was given food and wine and sent to bed, a tiny, bare room in a small building in the garden, with only a straw mat for furnishings.
Only when alone did she allow herself to cry and bemoan aloud her fate. And finally overcome with sudden weariness she fell into a heavy, trouble, sleep.
But for Marcus, there was no sleep. He dashed to Rome, and made many inquiries and eventually, only an hour before cockcrow, he discovered where Flavia was being kept.
Marcus discarded his soldier's uniform and clothed himself in a plain tunic and hood and took his bare sword, and entered the garden. Everything was quiet and still. He moved slowly and carefully to the small building, his sword at the ready to cut down anyone who tried to block his way.
But no one was about in the shadowed garden, and Marcus made his way without incident to the room where Flavia was sleeping on the straw mat. Marcus stared at his beloved a full minute, so lovely a vision she was, stretched out so that her tunic was pulled tightly over her fabulous body, her breasts heaving against the thin material with her heavy, troubled breathing, her slim legs bare, her intimate thighs sleek and golden, and her tunic just blocking a view of her treasure.
Marcus closed the door behind him and rushed to her side. He dropped to his knees and lay his sword down and kissed her soft, warm lips. She opened her eyes in a moment of panic, then bolted up into his arms, and pressed her squirming body against his, and then as she sucked at his lips, she lay back down and pulled him on top of her.
As before, they spoke not a word at first, but busied themselves with their lust, and the response of their burning bodies, and the feeling that passed between their eyes was message enough of their love.
Though each seethed with excitement, their kisses were slow and wild, and with great care, they disrobed each other, and then Marcus kissed down and took a huge nipple in his mouth, and Flavia groaned and arched her legs. Marcus grunted out his mouth, and Flavia groaned and arched her legs. Marcus grunted out his breath and nuzzled the nipple and his instrument throbbed as the nipple hardened in his mouth. And his hands slid down over her flat, undulating stomach, and when they tickled and stroked her sweating, smooth thighs, she enclosed them and rubbed with a peculiar motion that Then she released the hands, and they stroked her Marcus' instrument responded to with a throb.
Marcus was wallowing his face in her soft, firm mounds of delight, and lashing the hard nipples with his frantic tongue. And Flavia leaned down and kissed his ear, and spoke very soft words, each a word of endearment, and each followed by a stroke of her slender, hot, tongue. And all this time, her fingers move like feathers through his hair and over his neck, and then her nails were sharp and painful on his shoulders and down his back, and then the feather-soft fingers trailed soothingly over the cuts.
Marcus grunted out his passion and fell between her open thighs, and as his fierce, anxious instrument found the treasure it most desired, Flavia threw back her head and groaned, and her legs doubled at the knees.
Then Marcus sucked at her lips, and slid his huge, rough hands around to pump at her driving buttocks. But with surprising strength in her slim thighs, Flavia forced him to slow his urgent pace, and then she took the lead and began the first of many lessons in Etruscan love, for this rough Roman soldier, who had taken many women in his day, but never with the art and poetry Flavia was to teach him.
His instrument glowed with newfound pleasure, and it seemed the feel of her pulsating loins and the squeezing of her incredible, powerful muscles had stripped the instrument raw and opened its nerve ends to a staggering, screeching world of sensitivity and exquisite, painful delight.
Marcus drifted into a world to which he had never been in all his life, and his vision hazed and his body glowed with heat and seemed alive in a thousand places, and his instrument was scalded and flooded with a pleasure so delicate and yet so complete, that he whimpered and hot and cold flashes ripped up his back.
And for Flavia, though he lacked, of course, the technique of Quonus Marcus was a consummation of her life of sexual pleasure, for in his rough, driving manner was the soft, elusive, delicate element of love and she so relished giving him this divine pleasure of which she knew she was capable, that she, too, was transported to a magical world and she too whined and groaned, and clawed at his back and buttocks.
Their animal-like sounds filled the tiny room, and they rocked and jerked as their time came, and they shot up to the height of ecstasy a mortal can endure, and then they grunted and collapsed, sweating and trembling, still wrapped in and about each other.
And then, when they rested a moment, Marcus lay beside Flavia and kissed the sweat from her face and smoothed back her lovely, blond hair. And then they talked, and out poured a flood of words of love and endearment, mingled with Marcus' bitterness, might do some rash thing that he would later regret. For she knew full well that he loved Rome dearly, and that if he freed her at the expense of becoming a criminal and traitor to the city to which he had dedicated his life, that this would haunt them forever, and that in time it could well destroy his love for her.
And so she would not hear any of his reckless plans, but said plainly and firmly that she would leave her present master only as a free woman, and not as a criminal. Marcus saw that she was adamant, and as she stroked his cheek, he began to realize that there must a better way than fleeing. He knew something of the reputation of the man who owned her, and could rest assured that he would not mistreat her. But he could not endure the thought of another man possessing her-she had spared him the knowledge of her affairs with King Quonus. Yet she lied, and reassured that indeed her master had cried to possess her, but that he was old and his instrument incapable of that which his mind desired.
And now a plan formed in Marcus' mind, and it was simple enough. Never in all his campaigns had he scrambled for loot as had many soldiers, considering in beneath his dignity-indeed, he had no desire to be wealthy. But now he vowed he would win such loot was would allow him to buy Flavia's freedom.
Fired now with the confidence that this plan would work, he smothered her body with kisses, delighting in her groans of delight as kisses covered her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, and finally her pulsating treasure.
Then they again worked together, and now Flavia twisted her body, distorted it and moved her hips in a nearly impossible rhythm while her thighs were jerked and the muscles pumped, and Marcus grunted again and again, and cupped and pumped her buttocks and was driven steadily into a blinding world of ecstasy.
Only when the cocks crowed and light crept into the tiny room did he take leave, and they kissed feverishly and planned to meet again that very night. Marcus crept from the garden and made good his escape, and he found a tavern just opening its doors, and drank red wine and pondered his plan for buying Flavia's freedom.
But life is never so neat a thing as man would desire, and events were even then conspiring to thwart Marcus' desires still further. For on that very day, he met Lucilla. The pampered child had bewailed mightily his absence and made no secret of her love for him. She insisted that he join her for a drive into the countryside, and when he finally agreed, for he did not wish to cause a scene they had no sooner passed from the sight of the walls before she attacked him, and the fury of her passion nearly knocked him from his seat.
Finally, after thrusting off her advances, he stopped the carriage and they got out, and in an instant she was in his arms, rubbing against his body in the most brazen manner, and kissing him and shoving her tongue into his mouth.
Now, Marcus was full of his love for Flavia and satiated by their fabulous session on the straw mat just a few hours earlier. He had no desire for this fawning aristocrat. Yet, he knew her father was a wealthy and influential man, and in his position of trying to buy Flavia's freedom, he dared not offend his daughter.
So, hardly concealing his scorn, he threw the girl to the ground and ripped off her fine tunic, and took her in the roughest way, pounding her slim body without mercy, his instrument searing her loins with an agony she had never known. But Lucilla loved every minute of it-in truth, it was this rough treatment that appealed to her, so different was it from the ineffectual treatment of her own class.
She could not get enough, and when she was bruised and could barely breathe, and Marcus' poor instrument could not endure another moment, and he lay back utterly exhausted, the haughty patrician girl fell between his thighs and opened wide her proud lips to kiss back to life the instrument she so adored.
And as they drove back, she confessed her love, and mentioned that she had even spoken to her father. And now Marcus realized full well the cost of his dalliance with the spoiled child. And he shuddered as he thought what happen to poor Flavia if Lucilla found her rival was a mere slave. Marcus knew full well Lucilla would purchase his beloved, and subjugate her to the torments of the damned.
And though he inwardly cursed the girl who clung to his arm, he forced himself to talk soothingly. For he was forming a plan, which he hoped would solve his dilemma. He would volunteer for a dangerous campaign, which would put him out of Lucila's reach, and would bring him the loot he needed to buy Flavia's freedom. A good plan-except it meant he must go without seeing Flavia.
But as a soldier he was accustomed to making sacrifices for the ultimate victory, and so he rid himself of Lucilla, while not in any way offending her, and drank wine and brooded much until the darkness came, and then late after midnight, again dressed in the plain tunic and hood, and again carrying his sword, he stole into the garden, and then into the tiny room, where Flavia sat waiting.
Her day had been a relatively easy one for a slave. Her duties were light and her owner did not take her to his bed, and her report of her treatment did much to hearten Marcus in his resolve.
Only after they had twice consumed each other with fire and flood and lay still, his arms around her, she snuggled against his body, stroking his muscled arm, did he tell her of his decision. At first great was her lament that they must again be separated, and that she must be left alone in this strange city.
But quickly she saw the advantage of his plan, and realized she must not discourage him. So with faint, tender words of eternal love, and wet, feverish kisses, she lent her enthusiasm to the undertaking, and they talked until the sun rose about their future, as though he had already acquired the wealth and purchased her freedom. Then one final, urgent time did they make love, and then Marcus dressed quickly and stole from her room, vowing to return soon with the wealth that would unite them.
Before the sun was high in the heavens, Marcus was marching through the city gates with a group of soldiers headed for further campaigns against other Etruscan cities. And there was fighting and Marcus fought bravely, even desperately. But it was not the Roman plan now to take the well-fortified cities, or even to lay siege to them. The Roman armies merely roamed the countryside, and burned and destroyed crops-but there was little of wealth to be gained, and so Marcus' agony and his separation from Flavia was prolonged.
And when ultimately Etruscan cities gave up the fight, it was merely to come to terms with the Romans-and the Romans were usually generous, since they were growing weary of constant war, fare.
Months passed, and still he had only a fraction of the wealth needed to secure the wealth of the woman he loved. Flavia, meanwhile, went quietly about her duties, and when her elderly master occasionally visited her, she spread wide her thighs for his weak instrument and suffered herself to endure his feeble efforts, rather than endanger the plans she and Marcus had made.
Marcus' desperation pushed him to volunteer for ever more dangerous assignments, but none of them brought him the sudden loot for which he uttered daily prayers. Finally, heartsick at not being with Flavia, he asked for leave to return to Rome on a visit.
His bitterness had again taken hold of him, and he brooded much on snatching Flavia away, and fleeing with her to some place beyond Roman jurisdiction. Yet these were grim thoughts for a man who loved his city, and had spilled so much of his own blood in her defense.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HI fortune again intervened, or so Marcus thought, for his leave was canceled and he was sent with a contingent of soldiers to give aid to a town to the north, which was friendly to Rome. The town was being menaced by groups of raiding Gauls, and little did Marcus or any of the Romans know what grim significance the presence of these fierce barbarians in Italy meant.
And perhaps the fortune was less ill than Marcus thought. For well might he have taken rash action had he then returned to Rome. As it was, he was delayed for some time, and in the course of this, he acquired some little bit of loot-a store of gold which, though small, was enough to encourage him on his venture, and again submerge his bitterness.
When Marcus did finally return to Rome, as fortune would have it, he was intercepted by Lucilla, for by using her father's influence she had not only learned of his arrival, but had actually hastened it. Her passion had increased during his absence, and she insisted they go alone together to a house, she had acquired, and make love. And she made no small mention of the fact she intended to marry Marcus, and let him know full well that with her father's influence he would rise rapidly in the army.
But Marcus was no diplomat, and his long time in the field had rubbed raw his roughness and crude nature when he was crossed. And after keeping himself faithful to Flavia and not touching another woman, he was not about to keep his beloved waiting, simply to lie down at the whim of Lucilla.
When he made it known he had more important matters than bedding with her, she became furious, and cursed him foully, using oaths he had heard from only the crudest soldiers. He shoved the danger to the background and forgot his good judgment, and told himself he was well rid of so spoiled and foul a bitch. But he should have known a girl such as Lucilla would not give up so easily.
And indeed, when he stormed away from her, her fury knew no bounds, but she did not loose her head enough to become irrational, and she quickly had him followed. At first his actions seemed innocent enough, and he simply sat long hours in a tavern drinking wine.
But then as the night grew deeper, he arose, and after discarding his uniform, he went directly to Flavia, in her small room in the garden. She did not know of his return, and great was her surprise and overwhelming her joy. They fell to the rough mat in a spasm of passion, sucking kisses and rubbing against each other, and muttering the tenderest words of love, and the rogue employed by Lucilla slunk away from their nest of love, grinning with satisfaction at the news he could take his mistress.
Lucilla, of course, was livid with rage, to discover that her rival in love was a mere Etruscan slave. She swore oaths down on Marcus, but she was still determined that he would be hers-his lack of interest only deepened her determination to possess him, for she had always acquired everything she wanted. She went immediately to her father, and with tears and daughterly kisses, she got him to use his considerable influence to see that Marcus was recalled at once to the army, and sent on a long assignment-one that would keep him away from Rome, but which would not endanger his life in any manner.
Then the furious, calculating girl waited for the right moment, when he was gone, to acquire Flavia, and make her pay a terrible price for her love for Marcus. Cruelty was not the only factor in Lucilla's actions, for she was also determined that when Marcus returned, there would be no Flavia waiting for him.
Marcus and Flavia made their exquisite love and talked of their future, each refreshed and their hopes renewed, and Marcus knew now that he could more time in the field, now that he had started to acquire some of the wealth he so desperately needed.
As was their custom, they parted at first rays of sunlight. Marcus felt good and planned a day of leisure, and then another night rolling between Flavia's thighs. He was stunned when he found a soldier at his lodgings, and was amazed at his orders to return immediately to the field. He barely had time to get a message to Flavia, before it was time to depart. But he heard rumors that several Etruscans towns were to be assaulted, and his heart was lightened by the thought of the loot he might acquire.
Flavia was disheartened at Marcus' message, but submerged her grief and went about her tasks, not knowing the evil plans which Lucilla had laid for her. For Lucilla knew well the family which owned Flavia, and on that very morning she paid a visit, and bemoaned the fact that her own maid had taken ill and that she was due to go her family's country estate and sorely wanted a bright maid of her own age to accompany her.
Now she uttered these words as Flavia passed through the. courtyard where she was being received, and Flavia's master, in an act of generosity on which the scheming Lucilla had counted, offered his newly acquired slave.
She accepted his offer without hesitation, thanking him profusely. Poor Flavia was brought forth and told she was to go and serve Lucilla without question. She had no reason to suspect anything, and the thought of a few days in the country seemed quite pleasant.
The journey out to the estate, only a few miles from the city, and situated in the rolling hills at the foot of the mountains, was without incident, though the manner in which her new mistress openly stared at her made Flavia somewhat apprehensive.
Now Flavia's duties for his master in Rome had been simple menial tasks, and she knew nothing of the customs and manners of the Roman woman's toilet, nor even of ways of serving food. And so the first morning, she made several clumsy blunders and finally, she dropped a vial of perfume over Lucilla's legs, as her mistress sat preening herself after arising.
"Clumsy idiot," Lucilla shouted. "No wonder you are a slave. You should be employed in a bam. What have you to say for your stupidity?"
"Forgive me," Flavia pleaded, stunned by the ferocity of Lucilla's words "I am new at this kind of service."
"You must learn what happens to stupid, dull slaves," Flavia said, in a cruel tone. She had decided that Flavia must not yet learn why she was being abused, since she would believe perhaps she was wrong. For Lucilla knew that were Flavia to realize she was being punished for her love for Marcus, it would give her strength and arm her with the sense of being wronged.
"Please, I beg your forgiveness," Flavia said, frightened by the ominous tone of her new mistress.
"Down on your knees, slave," Lucilla said, with a wicked grin. "And lick the perfume from my legs and thighs."
Flavia hesitated a moment at the strange command, but slowly sank to her knees. She resented being treated in this manner, yet she knew she had been clumsy, and perhaps careless.
Now she had, in her life in the temple, passed her lips and tongue over the legs and thighs of many women and girls, but it was always in an act of passion that was being reciprocated. To lick the legs and thighs of her mistress in this manner was distinctly unpleasant, and poor Flavia felt humiliated at having to do it. And furthermore, the perfume, which smelled so sweet and delicate, had a sharp, metallic taste that made her nauseous.
Buts he forced herself to remove the perfume with her mouth. She was licking now high on Lucilla's thighs, and when the girl lifted up her tunic and spread her white thighs wide, Flavia stopped, for suddenly her unpleasant task had taken on overtones of sex, and though this was far from alien to Flavia, she did not intend to let her humiliation go this far.
"It's not all off," Lucilla said. "Why do you hesitate? Continue at once."
But Flavia started to pull her face away, and this enraged Lucilla. She grabbed Flavia's hair and roughly jerked her head forward, until Flavia's face was smothered in her loins, for she wanted her slave to worship the treasure which Marcus had declined.
But Flavia screamed and pulled away and scrambled to her feet, and rubbed at her face with her tunic, and this was more than the enraged Lucilla could endure. She screamed for her servants and two maids ran into the room, both tall, young girls, and quite strong.
"Seize this little slave," Lucilla screamed. "Take her outside and prepare her to be punished." Flavia struggled and protested, but she was no match for the two girls and she was dragged outside, still dazed by the sudden and brutal turn of events, and the end to which her clumsiness and refusal to be humiliated had brought her.
She was stripped of her tunic and tied to a post in the courtyard, and then left alone in the hot sun. Terror permeated through her tense body and she awaited her punishment, absolutely helpless, and still stunned by the suddenness with which her fortunes had changed.
But Lucilla was in no mood for hurry, when she gazed from her cool chamber and saw Flavia strung up in the sun, with sweat already glistening on her golden body. Lucilla bathed herself leisurely, and took a full two hours at her toilet, and even then, she took time for refreshment before putting on a cool, light tunic and walking into the garden. Her anger soared as she approached the helpless, naked body of her rival, and she thought again how Marcus had gravely insulted her by preferring this Etruscan slave.
Flavia was unbearably hot from the sun, and her lips were dry and her throat parched. She stiffened at Lucilla's approach, for she knew full well now vulnerable her naked body was, and there was no mistaking the gleam of evil pleasure in Lucilla's dark eyes. Flavia feared pain and she feared humiliation, but more than anything, she feared she would die of thirst.
"Mercy, mistress," she begged. "Give me water." Please."
Lucilla snorted out a laugh She wiped her open hand slowly over Flavia's wet body. "Why, you're sweating like a work animal," she said. "Perhaps that's all you are, a lowly animal, fit only for heavy duty in the barn to sweat and grunt. What do you think?"
Flavia tried to swallow but she could not, and it was difficult to speak. Her increasing thirst had shriveled the inside of her mouth and she felt sick and feverish.
"Answer me when I speak to you!" Lucilla snapped, and one cruel hand, small and white, slid down between the golden thighs and Flavia suddenly found her voice, to screech in agony, as the fingers roughly pinched and scratched her tender loins.
Then Lucilla stepped away. She turned to a maid.
"Bring me a cushion, some wine and water, and a cover from the sun. And oh yes, I would like someone to fan me. The sun and heat are terrible."
And so Lucilla made herself cool and comfortable, and sipped cool wine, and for a long time, she watched Flavia's withered Kps twitch beyond control and laughed at her pathetic attempts to beg, and delighted at the obvious pain that pulsated Flavia's body, which was pouring sweat now.
Then when Flavia's head dropped and her eyes closed, Lucilla arose slowly and leisurely, and walked to the agonized, thirsting girl. Without a word, she grabbed the huge nipples with her long, sharp nails, and jerked and twisted. White-hot pain soared through the breasts and Flavia was jerked back to consciousness with a screech that came from deep inside and somehow got past that withered throat and lips that were dry as sand.
Flavia's blue eyes were hazed in agony, yet they were wide with terror. Then Lucilla smiled wickedly, and with her nails, she punished Flavia's nipples and loins with pain so searing, the girl had lapsed from consciousness in two minutes.
And when she awoke some time later, she was still bound to the post, the ropes cutting cruelly into her tender flesh, her loins and breasts throbbing with pain. And her thirst was more acute than ever.
Her body was so wracked with misery that she could barely see Lucilla, though her tormenter stood only inches away. Then Flavia saw that Lucilla held a goblet of water. Flavia strained her head forward, and her lips just touched the edge of the goblet. Then Lucilla laughed sharply and pulled it back out of reach of those dry, trembling lips.
"Do you want water?" Lucilla mocked.
Flavia tried to speak, but only dead, gurgling sounds came from her throat. All she could do was nod desperately.
"If I give you water, will you promise to obey me forever, in whatever I command you, without question, so long as we both live?" Lucilla asked. "Even if you go back to your master? And even if you're freed? Swear on the divine Juno, or I shall pour salt water down your throat. Swear,, by nodding your head three times."
Without hesitation, but with little strength, Flavia nodded three times. Then Lucilla filled the goblet and held it and allowed Flavia to drink. She gave the Etruscan girl another goblet, and then ordered her maids to release her. But Flavia did not know her moment of release, for she had passed from consciousness.
Lucilla, quite satisfied with her day's work, went for a ride on her horse, confident that everything would work out as she wished-as indeed, it always had. She was excited from the day's work, though, aroused in a strangely sexual way from abusing Flavia, and she thought of bedding with one of the lusty men who worked at the estate. Then she thought of a more pleasing idea, and turned her horse toward home. But when she arrived, Flavia was still unconscious, and obviously in danger of being quite ill if abused any further. So Lucilla sought out a huge, handsome man, and went into the forest with him, to have his ample instrument satisfy her burning desires.
And then as she returned to the estate, she reasoned that she should extend her stay indefinitely, and let Flavia regain her strength. For she planned to make her slave utterly subjugated, degraded an abject worshipper of her body, and Flavia to be strong enough to understand what was happening to her. She would make Flavia give her loins exquisite pleasure, then let her know of Marcus, finally she would kill the girl in a most fitting way. And she smiled to herself and felt a flash of sexual heat as she contemplated her means of death.
But much death was being contemplated on that day, for the fierce Gauls, who had previously confined their warring activities further north, were on the move.
And a group of three Roman patricians, sent north to conciliate matters between the Etruscan city of Clusium and the hordes of Gauls which threatened them, made a terrible blunder. When fighting did break out, they violated all rules of missions of their kind, and fought against the Gauls. And when the barbarians discovered that men who had preached peace now opposed them, they were furious.
They turned their wrath on Rome, and to compound stupidity with stupidity-a most unRoman thing and one to have devastating consequences-the city ill prepared itself for the inevitable war.
Business continued as usual, and the military tribunes went about the matter of raising an army in a slow and leisurely fashion. Then the Gauls moved swiftly on Rome, so swiftly it seemed impossible. But there the barbarians were, a day's march from the city.
A hastily formed Roman army rushed out to meet the Gauls, and in one of the blackest days in Rome's history, the Gauls routed our soldiers, many of whom threw down their arms and were butchered trying to cross the river and flee.
Despite the bravery of a few soldiers such as Marcus-he was wounded slightly but escaped with honor-it was an utter disaster, and Rome stood defenseless and at the utter mercy of the hordes of Gauls.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Now the Gauls were startled at their easy victory, and indeed were wary that this was a trap of some kind. They did not sweep down on Rome, but moved forward cautiously, sending out many scouts and prepared at any moment for a Roman attack. But the scouts found the city's gates open and the walls deserted. Still, the Gauls were cautious, and decided to wait until the next day to enter the city.
Rome was filled with lamentations, for the army which had been slaughtered-though large numbers had escaped and not returned to the city and this was not yet knownand for the inevitable slaughter and destruction that would take place with the first light of day. But if the Romans had acted as knaves and cowards, they now responded to the situation as true citizens of their city, and prepared to defend with honor and courage that night, and it was decided that the city would not be entirely abandoned, but that the citadel on top of the hill that held the Capitol, one of the seven sacred hills, would be garrisoned with all men able to bear arms, as well as women, children and able-bodied senators.
A final stand would be made on that hill, so that the Gauls would know, as would all men for all time, the stuff of which Romans were made. These picked citizens would fight for their honor, for their city's name, and for their sacred gods. Indeed, the safety of the city's sacred treasures were of the utmost concern, and it was decided that the priests and priestesses would remove the emblems and treasures from the temples and spirit them away to some safe spot far from the city, so that the traditions of worship and the rites and rituals would not die out so long as there was breath left in one priest or priestess.
Rome knew not if it, like Veii, would cease to exist on the morrow, but it was felt that if the Senate and the gods could be preserved, and the city's useful and important citizens, then perhaps utter ruin could be avoided.
The useless and the aged! They were left below in the city to face the wrath of the invaders. It was a terrible decision, and not one easily made, yet there was no choice. And many of the noblest elderly men of Rome, men of rank who had entered the city at the head of triumphant armies and who sat in the Senate, but who were now withered and waiting only to die-to ease the burden on the poor who were to be abandoned they declared they too would await their fate below, and show the Gauls of what substance Romans were composed.
Many people fled the doomed city that night, and there were soon long lines of pitiful, poor refugees, people who so short a time before had been proud citizens of a proud city.
The Gauls bided their time, but they were not completely idle, and they sent out many patrols into the country around Rome. Now, in time that night, one of these groups of Gauls was to come upon the estate where Lucilla was tormenting Flavia.
The news of the Gauls' approach had aroused as much panic and fear at the estate as anywhere, and Lucilla had prepared to flee quickly back to Rome. But then news had arrived that a Roman army was marching north to meet the barbarians, and she had sighed with relief and told herself the Romans would soon rout this band of rabble.
Now, when Flavia had recovered somewhat from her terrible ordeal, she had reached a point of such suffering that she was willing to do anything asked of her, if she was spared further agony. She could only tell herself that if she had to endure this treatment, and somehow get back to Rome, back to the master who did not mistreat her, and then in time Marcus would come.
She knew not, poor girl, that Marcus was fighting a battle, was being wounded, was forced to flee for his life. And that as she stood before the haughty Lucilla, Marcus, frantic with worry for her safety but not even knowing where she was, now was a member of the elite group gathered on the Capitol.
Now she knew not the danger which was approaching, and was concerned only with the danger that was at hand, the dangler in the form of the vicious Lucilla.
"Do you think I am beautiful?" Lucilla asked, as she stroked with loving care a small, evil leather whip, intertwined with strands of gold.
"Yes, mistress, you are most beautiful," Flavia said, hoping she would say the right words, to keep that whip from tormenting her body.
"And much to be desired?" Lucilla asked, smiling on the corners of her lips. "By a man or a woman?"
Flavia swallowed, for she knew full well what was coming. "Yes, mistress," she said, quickly. "Anyone, any man or woman would find it the highest point of honor and pleasure to be allowed to worship your magnificent body."
"Would you pay dearly for worshipping my body, Flavia?" she asked.
"I would pay any price, my lady," Flavia said, and a stab of cold shot up her spine. Yet with her fear and pain, with her willingness to do anything this girl demanded, there grew an intense hatred, a stronger hatred than Flavia had ever known-and this hatred was deep before she knew of any connection between Lucilla and Marcus.
"Wouldn't any man in Rome rather kiss my body, even my feet, than make love to you?" Lucilla asked, as she slipped off her tunic, and stood naked, pounding her little whip slightly against her slim, white leg.
"Yes, may lady, it would be an honor and a delight for any man to kiss your feet," Flavia said, burning with hatred now. "And my poor body is fit only to sweat and work like a lowly animal. No man would desire me."
"Beg me to whip you, Flavia," Lucilla purred, and she was aroused and her nipples tingled. "If you take the whipping well enough, I may allow you to worship my body."
"Oh, my lady, please don't whip me," Flavia moaned. "To worship is all I could desire, but please don't beat me."
"But you said it was worth any price," Lucilla said. "Do you dare to contradict me? Or where you merely lying? Answer me quickly, slave"
"I was not lying, but I can't endure a beating," Flavia said, her heart racing, and her legs weak with fear.
"But I wish to whip you, fool," Lucilla said, and laughed. "Now spread yourself out on the couch, and you shall worship my body and at the same time be whipped."
Flavia stepped back. "No," she said. "In the name of the gods, I've endured enough pain and humiliation."
"You've endured nothing, compared what is fated for you," Lucilla screamed, and called for her maids.
Flavia's struggle was brief and futile and she was soon lying face down on the soft couch, naked, on her stomach, with her arms and legs spread wide and securely bound to the couch. Only then, did the maids leave, for there was a strange tumult outside and they rushed to see what was happening.
Flavia screamed and jerked as Lucilla's first lash cut across her back, and by the time the tenth lash had left its bloody, jagged wound, her throat was raw and her body gripped by a hot, sickening agony that throbbed in waves and left her sobbing hysterically as her body jerked and her blood pounded at her temples.
Then Lucilla, no little excited by Flavia's suffering, slid down onto the couch, and opened wide her thighs, and took Flavia's head by the air and held it only inches from her black-shrouded loins.
"Listen well," Lucilla said, hot now with passion. "All this night I'm going to whip you, first from the back and then your thighs and breasts, your nipples and loins, and all this night you will kiss and worship my loins and buttocks. And this is the price you will pay, and I will prolong your suffering, for having dared to try to come between Marcus and me."
"Marcus!" Flavia gasped, and then she fully understand the cause for all her agony, and now her hatred of Lucilla burned deeper than ever. "But her pain had robbed her of any strength of resistance and she could only think that she would suffer, be degraded and then die, and she prayed to Juno for a quick and easy death.
Lucilla shoved Flavia's down and mashed it against her damp loins, until Flavia could not breath and was squirming and sucking pitifully, and then Lucilla lashed her open buttocks and when Flavia was on the verge of smothering, Lucilla jerked her head back.
"And this is how you will die, slave," she shrieked, going mad with her cruelty. "I shall smother you in my loins. But for many agonizing hours will you endure my wrath and give me pleasure."
And before Flavia could speak or even moan, her face was thrust back and she could not breath, and then the white, sweating thighs closed over her face and head, and she sucked and licked desperately, trying to such in air, but her whole world, her whole being was now Lucilla's loins, and the hot, quivering loins were all that her frantic nose and mouth could find.
And Lucilla was in an ecstasy of cruel delight, and her loins burned with pleasure at each frantic move of Flavia, and her nipples hardened, and she damped her eyes shut and squeezed her thighs hard and rocked back and forth.
The tumult had increased outside, but Lucilla paid scant attention to it. Little did she know that even then her two maids were being raped by rough Gauls, and they were killing all men they could find, and beginning to sack the wealthy estate.
In little enough time did they burst into the chamber where Lucilla was tormenting Flavia and they must have been stunned at this bizarre sight on the couch. We do not know what they thought, but we are told what they did-it is what any brutal soldier would do when faced with two incredibly beautiful maidens. They threw Lucilla to the floor and untied Flavia and then proceeded to rape them.
For Flavia the rape, though brutal, was a relief and she had enough presence of mind to accept this fate and wield and give the soldiers the pleasure they wanted. And in truth, she was so proficient at giving pleasure, that the barbarians were careful after the first assault that nothing happened to her.
But Lucilla was choked with rage and fought wildly, and her pampered, tender body, which had never known the least pain, could not endure the brutal assaults and she passed out several times, and was each time revived for further assaults. For her haughty, defiant manner only whetted the appetites of the Gauls.
Thus did both girls become prisoners of the invaders, and much later, they were taken to the main camp, and imprisoned in separate tents, for it was obvious to the Gauls that if put together, one would surely kill the other.
And so both girls were in the grips of sleep, deep and heavy, next morning when the hordes of Gauls marched for Rome. The Gauls met no opposition and so entered the city, and walked with wonder past great marble statutes, and stared with awe at the Forum.
They discovered the garrison on the Capitol Hill, and soon discovered they could not take it by direct assault. So they left a strong force there, and moved to plunder and bum the city. They were awed at first by the distinguished, elderly patricians, but soon they put them to the sword. And they gathered everything of value and then returned to the Forum, prepared for a siege against the Romans on the hill.
But nothing would dislodge those gallant men, neither assault nor the threat of starvation, neither promises nor threats, and as the days passed, time was running out for the barbarians and the sun was again ascending for our glorious Rome.
For a formidable army was being formed, led by the illustrious Camillus. The Romans took heart, though some grieved sorely for loved ones lost, and no one grieved deeper than Marcus, for he knew not what fate had befallen Flavia.
Indeed, her fate was that of good fortune, for after so much misfortune, when it seemed she had been abandoned by the gods, the sun shone for her, also. It was discovered that she was Etruscan, not Roman, and was a slave who had been taken against her will to Rome. The Gaulle assumed she hated the Romans and that she could not be considered an enemy. She did nothing to discourage these beliefs, and no further insure her safety, she became for a short time the mistress of one of the chieftains of the Gauls. For she was determined to survive now, and to return to Marcus.
Now we know not exactly what transpired in the camp of the Gauls beyond this, and as every Roman schoolboy knows well, the Romans on the Capitol held out bravely, and particularly brave was Marcus Valerius, and he saved the situation at a critical time, by risking his life to pass through the enemy lines, deliver a message to the Roman army under Camillus, then return to the hill, fighting his way at the end, and cutting down many Gauls. For his heroism, the Senate voted him a substantial reward, easily enough to buy Flavia's freedom. But this only increased his anguish, for where was his beloved?
As I said, nothing is known further of the camp of the Gaul's. At some point Flavia was able to leave-though it is not recorded that she ever told how. And nothing is mentioned of Lucilla's fate.
But there grew up among the Gauls a legend of a day when a goddess of radiant beauty, with blue eyes and long, blond hair, put to the torture an evil goddess of black hair and eyes and white skin, tortures of sexual rites which had never been seen, and seemed ancient as time itself. It is said that even hardened barbarians cringed at the knowledge of pain in sex that this lovely, young goddess possessed.
And the legend ends-its truth I know not, but I tell the legend as it was handed down, and the reader may judge for himself-that as the sun set that day, the evil goddess was tied down so that she could not move, and then the good goddess smothered her by pressing her loins over her face and wrapping her thighs around the dark-haired beauty-not a slow smothering, but one that lasted until the moon was high in the sky.
Who knows if gentle Flavia could have been driven to that extreme of cruelty. We know for certain only that when the Gauls were finally forced to vacate Rome, and were soon afterwards decimated by the Roman army commanded by Camillus, and the citizens of Rome returned, among their number was Flavia, and great was the rejoicing and passionate the hours of loving with Marcus.
Marcus then presented himself to the master of Flavia, to purchase her freedom. But when he knew the full story, he insisted that she be given her freedom for nothing.
And thus was Marcus rewarded, and thus does my tale draw to its conclusion. We know no more of the couple, but it is not difficult for the imagination to conjure their nights of love, with the force and strength of Marcus, and the art and poetry of Flavia, the repository of an ancient lore of pleasure, which was even then dying out.
But nothing was dying about our city of Rome. Never again was an invader to breach its walls, and it was to soar to the zenith as the mightiest city ever known to man-and not a little of its greatness might be said to be the result of assimilating so many cultures and traditions and lore, from so many different peoples, and forging them all into one might empire and one great civilization.
