Taken by Rome, Training Myra (Book One of The Emperor's Obsession) Page 3

  "Listen, child, do not trouble yourself with pesky little details. The important message here is that the most powerful man in the world wants you, Myra!"

  "But I'm married to Silvanus, your Excellence," she hated the plaintive whine in her own voice. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the soldier by the door smirk.

  "The emperor offers you the following proposition. You can stay married to Silvanus. Also the emperor will personally absolve all your debts and in addition grant you and your family an yearly stipend of one-hundred gold sistertius that will to be paid in full every year as long as you're alive. In return, you will agree to all His wishes and surrender to be His slave with complete abandon for the duration of twelve months starting immediately. You will have to leave with me today." Myra felt the room spin and next her legs gave out and she realized she was staring at the old wood beams lining the ceiling."

  "Girl, you will need to toughen up or you might find the next few months very difficult indeed," the fat man’s voice grumbled with a chuckle somewhere above her.

  "But I haven't even accepted yet," she heard herself whisper as someone held her head up and handed her a cup of water.

  "Oh but I know you will," the Majordomo smiled.

  Chapter Four

  They left at noon that same day. The Majordomo had insisted that she was to make her decision immediately. "Listen, Myra, you do realize how noble our master is, to be so considerate as to offer you a choice? Don't you? After all he is the Princeps, the First Among Equals, the Father of us all."

  Myra failed to see how someone only a couple of years older than herself could be the "father of them all." She almost giggled when she tried to picture fat Julius in baby clothes being swaddled by the Emperor. But her thoughts swiftly turned dark with foreboding and dread. She knew next to no one at the capital. The only remote acquaintance she could think of was the Majordomo himself. There was a time, when she was still a child, when he would bring his daughter over to visit her and her dad.

  Myra felt tears cascade down her cheeks. Silvanus had tried so hard to stop her from going. He had begged and pleaded and at one point even tried to scare her with rumors of the crazy emperor who would feast on virgins and devour their babies. And that was even without her telling him the real reason he had sent for her. Instead, she had lied and said that the Majordomo had requested her to be a house servant in the palace kitchens, as a favor because of his old friendship with her father. But a slave? To the Emperor? She could imagine Silvanus would have personally tried to fight down the two giant praetorian guards that seemed to shadow her everywhere she went. Myra had to be strong for both of them. No matter what they did to her or made her do, she knew she would always be her husband’s one and only true love. For a life of safety with Silvanus, she would gladly suffer the indignities of servitude. Even for one entire year, she would grovel and beg, if it meant a lifetime with Silvanus.

  Deep down, she knew she had never had any choice. Not since that moment, a few months back when the Emperor had seen her. A knight in shining armor, his gilded helmet gleaming in the noonday sun, he had stopped to gaze down upon the fields of wheat and he had seen her. Her! That was what the Majordomo said. It was her fate to abide by the Emperor’s wishes. It was predestined. And those ugly rumors people spread about Emperor Commodus, they had to be just that — rumors, things jealous people always said about their betters. How evil could a man that pines for months on end after a girl he once saw truly be?

  She could still hear the Majordomo’s words: "The Emperor, wants you, Myra!" She felt herself blush again. Silvanus would understand. One day she would tell him the truth, that the Emperor, her knight in shining armor, had summoned her. And who was she to deny Him? For one year? For her, for them.

  *****

  She rode the black destrier in front, by the praetorian Josephus who walked by her in escort. A guard. Julius enjoyed the view of her long lithe legs, swaying together on one side as she balanced and rode in the manner of a true lady. A true lady. The Majordomo had known her parents and their families. The Emperor had asked and Julius had made his inquiries. Her lineage went as far back as the old republic, if not farther. But a lady not for long. Not after He broke her. Someplace deep in his heart he knew a small remnant of him felt sorry for her. Julius let out a sigh. He hadn't always been an old lecherous monster. Long ago he had been noble, like her father. Before the plague had taken it all away, his estate, his livelihood, almost his life. He had had to crawl himself back up, by the force of his own pure will, from the gutter, all the way to the palace. He had become the monster nobody saw, the one whose job was to constantly prove his soullessness by willfully stripping others of their freedom. It was either them or him, and he simply knew it could never be him, not if he had anything to say about it.

  They would have arrived at the palace the same day, if it weren't for the throngs of beggars that accosted them the moment they passed the old city gate. At one point the two praetorian guards had to unsheathe their swords for the emaciated crowd to let them through.

  "Whore!" a voice yelled from somewhere and kept yelling until another, and then another joined in. Soon the entire crowd joined in the obscene chant, an accusatory murmur that sent shivers down Myra's spine.

  "Whore, whore, whore..." they screamed and she wished she could make herself even smaller and disappear . Behind her Julius almost smiled as he egged on his mount. Ten minutes later the girl started to cry, right there on her horse, right in front of him. Julius didn't look away. Female tears had always been mysterious to him, a source of wonderment. Their taste, the trails they left as they cascaded down a cheek, they made him hard. A long time ago, he had felt ashamed at this response of his, but he had long since grown accustomed to it. Now it was a part of him. A monster, I've now truly become one of them. He smiled and adjusted his erection. Up front a group of six praetorians evidently drawn by the commotion in the street formed into a line and with practiced discipline commenced beating back a path in the crowd for them to pass. Barely an instant later and their little group was safely into the bowels of the royal palace.

  They led her to a room with a simple bed, a jug of water and a candle flickering by its side.

  "Get some rest. You'll need it soon enough," and the Majordomo slammed the heavy door shut. Once the deafening drumming of her heart subsided, she heard several voices laughing, shouting, or making idle chat as a gentle harp music filled the darkness.

  Myra huddled in the bed and let herself cry. Here, tonight, no one would be watching; she could cry her eyes out. Tomorrow, she would be strong, for her dead father, for her sick brother, for the love of her life Silvanus, for their future...

  Chapter Five

  She awoke with a start. Goosebumps rose all over her skin. Myra didn't open her eyes right away but first peeked from under a carefully unveiled eyelid. Yes, there was definitely someone else in the tiny cell. A screech and the early morning sunlight seeping in grew brighter, and the room — vastly colder. Then a shadow passed over her. Her eyes flickered wide open and with them the memories of the previous day, and the dread of what was to come flooded into her thoughts.

  For a moment her breath caught in her throat. The praetorian Josephus was right there by the open window facing her bed. He was stark naked. Gone were the sleek armor and the purple sash. His form glistened as the contours of his muscles reflected the morning sun that flooded the tiny cell. She squinted and covered her eyes. One short stride and he was by her bed, a tower of power, sinew and scars.

  "Stand, slave," came his deep gravely voice, his accent that of a Northerner. His cock stood at full erect attention pointed directly at her as she timidly swiveled out of bed mindful to keep the thin blankets around herself. She stood up.

  "Next time I expect you to show less hesitation," he let his eyes roam across her face. She kept her head down, her breathing coming in small shallow breaths. Josephus grabbed her chin and roughly lifted it until their eyes met.

 
"I like slaves to look me in the eye. I like them to know who is in charge. Do you, whore, know who is in charge?"

  "Yes. You are," Myra whispered.

  "You shall address all men as Master from now on, even men you have never met and may never meet again. Is that clear?" She whimpered and his fingers dug into her chin.

  "Yes, Master."

  "That's better," he used his grasp on her chin and angled her face first to the left and then to the right. "A cute face; let us see if you have a body to go with it." He took a step back. "Remove your dress, slave," his voice came as a deep whisper tinged with repressed repugnance. As if he felt disgust at being here breathing the same air as her. He considers me a vile, worthless creature, someone to be tortured and trained, a slave.

  Myra felt her eyes tear up but didn't look away from his iron stare. Slowly she let go of her blanket and as it fell to the ground, she reached behind and untied the thin belt that held her dress together. She felt the soldier's warm breath on her face and felt her skin grow warm as the fabric loosened around her body. She tried one last pleading look but he only smiled. Slowly she forced her left hand into obedience and pulled at her neckline making the dress crumple down in a heap by her bare feet. For the first time in her eighteen years of life she stood stark naked in front of an equally naked man that wasn't her husband.

  Josephus immediately grabbed a hold of her milky white breasts, his eyes only momentarily straying away from hers. At first he only milked them gently. Her breasts were creamy white, almost too large for her petite frame, two cones of flesh capped with large dusky-rose areolae accentuated with nipples that in spite of their size pointed slightly upwards. For a moment he had to fight an impulse to bend down and kiss them. Instead, he peered more intently into her eyes and allowed a smile of pure evil to cross his scarred face and squeezed the two orbs in a vicious twist. Her whimper made him grow hard. She felt him against her quivering belly.

  "Not bad for a whore. Actually you're a pretty cute whore. Here is what I want you to do: While I ask you some questions, I want you to take your right hand and put it on your clit. Start rubbing it as fast as you can. I want you to come. If you do not come before I am done here with you, I will have you whipped by one of the soldiers down in the yard. Do you understand?"

  "Yes."

  He saw her deep black eyes tear up and look back at him pleading for mercy. He drew his large palms back and wrapped his fingers around her sensitive nipples and then suddenly squeezed. He grumbled a satisfied murmur when a gasp escaped Myra's lips. He took a deep breath and squeezed harder. From the corner of his eye he saw the tips of her breasts start to turn purple. She cried out and two tears popped out of her eyes. She put her own hands upon on his but when she saw his frown she immediately let go and put them back by her side.

  "Yes,… what?" he growled.

  "Yes, Master," she hiccuped.

  "Smart little slave," he relaxed his hold on her breasts allowing the blood to flow back into her abused flesh. The shock of the returning circulation almost made her double over.

  "Stand straight and don't you dare look away from my eyes, slave," he whispered, his lips almost touching her ear. She immediately stood back up and looked at him. So responsive. She started to cry a little.

  "Don't cry, little girl. Pretty soon you might even start to enjoy yourself. Keep rubbing and come soon or I might decide your clit is useless. And you might guess what we do with useless things around here," he grinned and used two of his fingers to make a scissors movement.

  "How long have you been married, little whore?"

  "Almost four months, Master."

  "When was the last time he fucked that useless pussy of yours?"

  "Three days ago, Master," she replied as she contrived to play with her clit and felt him move his palms toward her sensitive nipples. Then he pinched them both again, hard.

  Myra gasped, her body swaying closer toward him.

  How curious, she moves closer to me when I cause her pain, not further.

  "Spread your legs for me, whore. I need to feel how wet that pussy of yours is." Myra moved her bare feet wider apart. She almost jumped when she realized she had put her own tiny foot on top of one of his. He moved it out from under her and gave her a small but sharp kick in her calf that made her spread her feet even further. It was all he needed to gain complete access to the most private part of her body. She gasped audibly and bit her lower lip when his long index finger slithered right into her.

  "You are very wet, whore. Are you enjoying yourself?" he leered, his face only an inch from hers. She didn't answer, instead she did her best to concentrate on her own fingers as they rubbed her clit that now felt moist and hot. Josephus bent slightly at his waist to improve his angle and started rapidly finger-fucking her.

  "Do you like that?" he asked.

  "Yes... Yes, Master... I do" she groaned her chest turning a deep read.

  He suddenly pulled his finger out and brought it up to her gently parted lips. At first she squeezed her lips tight but one stern look from him was all it took for her to accept his finger.

  Her hips started swaying of their own accord. The sensations coursing through her small inexperienced body were too much for her young mind to control, try as she might. Her fingers, as if taken over by a diabolical life of their own increased their pace over her clit. Her widely spread legs shook with a sudden weakness at the knees. Myra closed her eyes and relinquished any pretense of control as Josephus moved his expert finger from her lips to the back of her throat, back and forth along her sensitive tongue in ever increasing speed. He kept his other hand gently wrapped around one of her tits squeezing it in rhythm to her ever-increasing heartbeat as if trying to coerce milk out.

  Her free hand curled into a first as she felt her breathing accelerate and her body betray her. She poured her entire being into accepting the sensations that the imperial soldier inflicted upon her body.

  "Come on, slave — come for your Master. Just let yourself go." Josephus was waiting for it and the moment he felt her start her orgasmic spasms, he let go of her breast and pushed two fingers all the way into her wet vagina as far as they would go using them to lift her trembling form from the ground and take her weight off her jittery knees exactly as they gave out from under her. Her feet dangled, beating the air in helpless spasms as she slumped forward toward him. He still had the index finger in her mouth and as he felt a powerful shudder coarse through her lithe form, he pushed his hand all the way back down her throat and triggered her gag reflex. He saw the sudden surprise as it blossomed in her jet-black eyes as her throat spasmed, gagged and then suddenly she threw up.

  He angled her body away from himself, one hand balancing her lower jaw between his thumb and forefinger, the other-supporting the brunt of her weight with the fingers in her cunt. He lifted her convulsing and semi-catatonic body up and tossed her helpless form into the bed.

  She immediately curled up, her coughing and shivering, raspy sobs mingled with whimpers.

  "Why did you do that? This is horrible," she whispered as she fought to control the dissipating spasms.

  "Breathe. Take a few deep breaths, slave. You still have much to learn," he kneeled to wipe his fingers in her dress that lay by his feet. He patiently waited as her breaths found their natural rhythm and her body relaxed on the bed.

  "Stand up, slave. You had your fun. Now it's time to repay the favor."

  "I hate you," her voice came as a raspy whisper from where she had buried her head in the pillow. "I don't want to do this!" She sat back up on her heels in the bed, her perky breasts shaking and wet with mucous as her eyes cast daggers at the naked soldier who stood by the foot of her bed and insolently stroked his monstrous erection. "I’m a free Roman. My father was a patrician. I'm no slave. You have no right to treat me like that!"

  "I agree, little Roman girl," he took a languid step toward her and she scurried farther away across the futile barrier of the tiny bed. "You are not a slave, I am. Yo
u are here because you chose to be here. I am here because I have to."

  He smiled, beautiful white teeth glinting in the sharp morning light. "You are free to go. This is your chance — go now and you will be free. Go back to your pretty little husband and your little farm with its little animals and large debts." Josephus rolled his shoulders and stroked his dick in anticipation. "Enjoy them."