Hot To Touch

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Hot to the Touch ISBN # 1-4199-0365-9 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Hot to the Touch Copyright© 2005 Margrett Dawson. Edited by Ann Leveille Cover art by Syneca. Electronic book Publication: October 2005

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Warning: The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Hot to the Touch has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers. Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme). S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature. X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

HOT TO THE TOUCH

Margrett Dawson

Margrett Dawson

Prologue

July, AD 79, on the island of Capri Claudia leaned on the stone balustrade overlooking the dancing blue waves of the Mediterranean. The sun was warm on her arms and a tantalizing aroma of roast meat rose from the kitchens below. But she felt cold. Cold and with no appetite. Like a corpse. “I’ll never know,” she said. “One dead husband and another promised that’s half dead already.” Liliana didn’t ask what her mistress didn’t know. They’d had this conversation before. She filled a goblet with wine and snow and held it out to Claudia. “In all of Pompeii there’s no richer man,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. Claudia ignored the drink and flung herself petulantly on the couch at one side of the terrace. “Pompeii! I’m not even sure where it is.” “It’s on the coast, north of Rome.” Claudia waved her hand impatiently. “I’ll find out soon enough. One thing I do know, I’ll die of boredom. If he’s as rich as you say, he’ll be away tending to business all day and snoring like a pig all night.” She sighed. “The poets sing of love but I shall never know the so-called pleasures of the bed. I’ll go to my grave all withered inside.” Liliana came to stand close by, still holding the goblet. “Drink, mistress. It will soothe you.” “I don’t need soothing. I need excitement, passion.” She waved one arm, making her bracelets jangle. The maid moved a step back as if fearing the goblet would be swept from her hands, dashing the wine on the marble floor. But Claudia took the cup and sipped from it, staring off into the distance. “My brother fights barbarians, my 4

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father makes speeches in the Senate and what do I do? I tend my mother’s grave and wait for the next old man to make an offer to have me in his bed.” Liliana murmured something about a marriage contract. “I know, I know.” Claudia tossed her head, and her curls quivered. “I’ll be bought and paid for. It’s all legal. Like slavery.” She turned her head sharply. “What do you women do? You cannot marry. Yet you must have some desires.” She would never have spoken so openly to any other slave girl, but Liliana had been with the family since she was born, the child of slaves, who were in turn offspring of captured and enslaved people. Liliana had never known what it was to be free. For a fleeting moment Claudia wondered if Liliana felt resentment or discontent at her lot. They had grown up together and shared all their secrets like sisters. Except Claudia had never questioned the relationship of mistress and slave. She tucked the thought away for future reflection in an idle moment and turned her attention back to Liliana. “Tell me what the slave girls do. The men can go to brothels, but you—” The question hung in the air as Liliana looked down and busied herself with a fleck of dust on one of the cushions. Her hair was simply dressed with a tortoiseshell comb and she wore a short white gown cinched at the waist with a red cord. The sun caught the copper sheen of her hair and brought out the shadows under her cheekbones. She was a pretty girl with deep blue eyes and almost flawless skin. She had escaped the ravages of disease that scarred the face and she had never gone hungry in the senator’s house. Was that enough to be happy? Claudia stood and paced back to the balustrade, still holding the goblet of wine. A small breeze had sprung up in the heat of the late morning and she lifted her face to feel the effect. In the distance the trees surrounding the emperor’s summer palace on Capri stirred and shimmered in the heat. She tossed her head back and threw the cool wine down her throat, then turned, leaning her elbows again on the warm stone. “I insist you tell me.” 5

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Liliana gave her a glance from under her lashes. “Mistress—” Claudia tightened her mouth and frowned. “That is a command.” A slave would never disobey a command for fear of the whip, although Claudia had never beaten Liliana and never would. But the girl did not need to know that. As far as she was concerned, there could always be a first time. The color rose in Liliana’s cheeks, staining them with a pink that made her eyes seem darker pools. She made an effort to speak but no sound came. She cleared her throat and tried again. “There are services,” she whispered. Claudia thrust her body away from the stone railing and took a step back into the shadows of the room. The breeze had strengthened, the movement of the air stirring the soft hangings by the door opening. “Services, you say.” Claudia took the girl’s hand. “Come sit by me and tell me all about it.”

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Chapter One

Late summer, AD 79, in Rome The leaden sky hung over the city, trapping the heat. Claudia lay on the couch and ran a cool, damp cloth over her throat. It was the tail end of summer and the heat lingered without any of the sparkle of only a few weeks before. She shifted her weight and dabbed the nape of her neck. She felt listless and petulant, and missed the refreshing breezes of Capri. “What are you doing?” she asked Liliana. The slave girl looked up from a pile of clothing and wiped the back of her hand over her moist brow. “This heat won’t last forever,” she said. “You will need a woolen gown and a shawl.” Claudia threw herself back against the cushions. “Never. I can’t imagine ever being cold again.” “You will be, and very soon.” Thunder grumbled, closer now and a few fat drops of rain spattered on the leaves outside the window. Immediately the temperature dropped and Claudia shivered. “Why are you always right?” Liliana merely smiled and went on with her work of folding and checking for stains and tears. Claudia watched her for a few moments and took a fig from the dish on a side table. She had dragged herself around the marble rooms, unable to settle, unable to take an interest in anything worthwhile ever since they had returned from the summer house on Capri. Father had resumed his work in the Senate and Liliana had a job to do, but the daughter of the house was expected to be a proper Roman matron and conduct herself with gravity and decorum, giving orders for others to work. Her father even 7

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supervised her friends and now had found her a new husband. It wasn’t fair! She had been married at sixteen to her first husband who had deflowered her with much effort and then fallen ill. He’d never touched her again and mercifully died just four years later. And now Publius Maximus of Pompeii was to take her to wife. He was sixty if he was a day. She bit hard into the fig. It was overripe and juice spurted down her chin. She mopped the liquid from her face with the same cloth she had used to cool her neck. Why couldn’t she have a young, lusty husband? It might be too much to expect he would love her, but at least he would be virile and healthy… She wasn’t too bad to look at. She picked up a mirror of burnished metal and peered at her reflection. “Am I ugly?” Liliana continued folding and smoothing. “You are very beautiful. I often heard the guests at dinner remark on your dark eyes and lustrous hair when I was serving wine. “ Claudia continued to look at herself, turning her head to catch different angles of her face. “Much good it does me. What else do they say?” “You just want me to flatter you.” Claudia smiled and admired her even white teeth. Not all young women had all their teeth and often they smiled with closed lips or covered their mouth coyly with one hand when they laughed. “Not at all. Just tell the truth.” Liliana held up a robe and shook it out. “They sometimes comment on your figure. And other things I cannot repeat–” “Yes, you can. Don’t be a tease.” “Young Gaius said he would like to get you in his bed. He thought it might be amusing to ride you and tame you… But he was drunk of course.” “How dare he!” But Claudia felt a quiver in her belly at the thought of Gaius’ weight on her, his strong cavalry officer’s thighs pushing her legs apart. Oh yes! She would make him work for anything he received.

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She felt a trickle of moisture between her thighs and a tingling in her breasts. She took a decision. “Tomorrow,” she announced. Liliana glanced up again, her hands still busy. “Madam?” “Tomorrow I want you to take me to the place you told me about. Where the slave women go for—relief.” Liliana gasped and laid the robe on the bench in front of her. “Lady Claudia, I can’t—” “Of course you can.” “Your father—” “—will know nothing about it. He has no inkling of what I do all day as long as I am here to entertain his guests in the evening. We’ll say we’re going to visit some sick people and take them food. He’ll approve of that. Now, come with me and dress my hair for tonight.” Claudia sprang to her feet, suddenly energized, and slipped an arm around Liliana’s waist. “Don’t look so frightened. I’ll look after you.” She squeezed her maid’s slim waist. “It will be fun.” For once she would be daring and spontaneous instead of being the dutiful daughter and wife. Why was it the Romans loved stories of strong women yet kept their own womenfolk where they could do nothing on their own? It was time she did something to assert herself. And add to that she would learn something about the appetites that flickered under her skin like banked fires.

The next morning Claudia borrowed one of Liliana’s robes and let her hair hang loose, caught at her nape with a simple cord. After the thunderstorm the weather remained cool, so she wrapped a thin shawl over her head and upper body. They were going into the market where slaves bought produce for the great houses that they served and there was small chance of running into anyone who would recognize her.

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Satisfied with her disguise, she had Liliana fetch a basket from the kitchens and slipped in a loaf of bread, some dried figs and a handful of olives to support her story of visiting the sick should anyone ask. “Lead the way,” she said. “No leading,” Liliana replied. “We walk side by side as equals. People will think you are a servant like me so you must act the part.” “Of course.” Claudia took hold of her slave’s hand and pulled her alongside. “Let’s go.” Liliana took her through a maze of narrow streets that threaded their way past the Colosseum and the Forum. They could hear the shouts of the young men practicing at the Circus Maximus. They would be naked, their oiled bodies gleaming in the fitful sunlight, their muscles rippling at thigh and shoulder as they ran and wrestled. Claudia closed her eyes against the vivid images that marched through her mind. Of course, no self-respecting woman would be permitted to watch, but some of the gladiators at public performances fought naked and displayed their bodies with pride. Rumor had it that a few Roman matrons did more than attend the games, showering gifts of money on the victors and meeting them for secret trysts after their matches— The cold water of a puddle lapped around her toes, bringing her back to the here and now. “What’s the name of the place?” she asked, shaking the drops from her sandal. Liliana gave her a smile, tinged with sadness. “The House of Sighs,” she said. Sighs. Sighs of pleasure undoubtedly, but also sighs of longing from those who could never come together without their master’s permission, and marriage was never allowed. Sighs from those whose children, often fathered by the master, would be a slave no matter how highborn the sire, unless he gave his concubine her freedom. Sighs from those who would never know love. 10

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She was not a slave, but she had never known love either. Nor could she frequent a place like the one where Liliana was taking her. Her life stretched before her, bleak and cold.

If Liliana had not given a tug on her arm to make her stop, Claudia would have walked right past the door set into a stone wall. In this old part of the city sunlight rarely penetrated even in midsummer and the stones of the high walls bore traces of lichen and dark runnels of water. The odor of decay was in the air. Liliana rapped on the door in a staccato rhythm that must have been a signal code. After a few moments a slit in the door slid open and a pair of bright, dark eyes looked out. Liliana gave her name, adding, “My friend Valeria is with me.” The door creaked partway open, allowing them to squeeze through the narrow crack. Inside, they stood in a dim hallway. Light penetrated from an atrium on the other side of the corridor. The walls were high. This must have been a noble’s house at one time before the city grew and every rich man wanted to build close to the emperor’s palace. The crone who had opened the door to them took a tablet from a rope that swung at her side. “Observe or participate?” she croaked. “Observe,” Liliana said quickly, then gave an embarrassed smile. “My friend Valeria is new in the city and has no money until she can set up business with the suppliers.” She passed over a small coin. Claudia nodded in agreement. Although slaves risked terrible beatings if they were found cheating their masters, Liliana had told her many were willing to risk it, for there was no other way for them to gain any funds at all. Some sellers in the markets would negotiate kickbacks. She began to have a new understanding of what Liliana was risking in bringing her here. She would reaffirm her oath of secrecy when they returned home. 11

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The old woman made a mark on her tablet then turned without a word to lead them deeper into the house. After two corridors and one steep staircase, she ushered them into a small room with a curtain covering one wall. Claudia’s heart began to beat faster. She had an idea of what she might see after Liliana’s explanations on Capri, but the reality was making her pulse race in anticipation. Two stools were placed for them in front of the curtain and they waited. The air in the room was warm and still, faintly perfumed. The scent made Claudia’s head grow dizzy. At last Liliana heard a noise from the other side of the curtain. She hesitated, her hand on the drapery, to look seriously at Claudia. “Mistress, you must not make a sound.” Claudia nodded, her mouth dry. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “They know there may be watchers, but in courtesy we pretend they do not.” She drew back the curtain and drew in her breath, sinking onto her stool. “Not a sound,” she whispered against Claudia’s ear. “No matter what you see. These two are special. They love each other.”

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Chapter Two Claudia and Liliana looked down on the male slave, for the room they were in was a floor above the meeting place. Despite the distortion from the height, Claudia could see he was young and well-formed. The burnished ebony of his skin gleamed in the flickering light. He was one of the many black Africans seized in Rome’s victories. He wore the short tunic and thin cloak supplied by his master and sat on a couch furnished with cushions. Only the tapping of his foot betrayed his impatience. After a few minutes the door opened and a young woman entered. Claudia caught her breath. Her pale face was truly lovely, but she walked with a limp. The man stood and caught the girl in his arms and covered her cheeks and neck with kisses. Claudia felt her heart contract at the sadness in their faces even while they were expressing such love. His hands wandered down his partner’s body and smoothed her thigh under her short robe. He lifted the fabric and she raised her arms to allow him to pull the shift from her body. She stood before him, proud and naked, and he dropped to his knees, pressing his face to her belly, his hands reaching for her breasts. She threw her head back and such an expression of pleasure suffused her features that Claudia had to close her eyes. A dull ache had started low in her abdomen and spread upward, through her belly to her breasts. The girl’s body shone pearly white beside his black skin. Opposites in so many ways, yet their closeness seemed entirely natural. Claudia felt the warmth spread to her cheeks. She knew what these two young people were about to do and she didn’t know if she could stand to watch. Watching seemed like such a desecration of something beautiful and holy. Strange, she had never thought of coupling in those terms before.

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She was about to stand and indicate to Liliana that they should leave when the girl broke away from the man’s embrace and lay down on the couch. Claudia waited. What next? The man stripped off his tunic and revealed his body, firm and muscular with the proud staff of his sex thrusting up and out. Claudia couldn’t take her eyes from it or from the tight muscles of his gluteus. She froze, unable to move. She waited for him to lie over the girl—that would be the moment when they should creep away. But to her astonishment he knelt by the simple bed and picked up a stone object that had lain unnoticed on a small table. He warmed it between his hands and kissed his partner tenderly on her mouth. She raised her knees and laced her arms around his neck, linking her hands behind his head. Claudia could not repress a small gasp as he held the stone shaft over the dark curls at the juncture of her thighs and with a low murmur against her ear, slid it inside her. Claudia sprang to her feet and strode to the door, Liliana scrambling to follow. They didn’t stop until they were on the street a few feet from the House of Sighs. Claudia whirled to face her maid. “What was happening there? Explain why he used that, that, thing—” She caught her breath on a sob. Even she knew that he should have thrust that swollen cock into his beloved, joining flesh to flesh in a mystical union…it happened countless times, day and night and to do it with love must be wondrous indeed. Liliana placed her hand on her chest as if to still her racing heart. “They are slaves,” she gasped. “What difference does that make? They are made like other men.” “She dare not fall pregnant. Her master would beat her and cast her off. Maybe sell her to someone far away and she would never see Petrus again.” “You know them?” “Yes.” “Their names?”

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Liliana hesitated and Claudia gave her arm a shake. “Petrus and Amelia.” “How did she hurt her leg?” “As a child. Her master’s wife threw her down the stairs.” “Who owns them?” Liliana gave the name of two prominent merchants. Without another word Claudia turned on her heel and continued on the way back home.

That evening there were no guests for dinner, but her father was in a relaxed mood and drank copious drafts of wine recently shipped from Cyprus. When she saw he was growing sleepy, Claudia stroked his arm. “Father, I have a notion to buy two new slaves.” He opened one eye. “What for?” he said gruffly. “We have enough of the lazy good-for-nothings.” “But, Father, they would not be in your household for long. I would take them with me when I marry Publius Maximus in Pompeii. They would be useful to me, for I do not know the quality of the servants available there.” His eyes drooped shut again and he grunted. She took that for an assent.

She sent her own majordomo to do the final negotiations but even he had come away shaking his head. “The male is fine,” he said, shaking his head doubtfully. “Good teeth and limbs but has a reputation for willfulness. His back bears the scars to prove it. He will need a firm hand.” He had no need to add that in his opinion Claudia would prove too soft a mistress. 15

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“The female is worth little, certainly not what they ask. She is lame and has a weakness in her arm as well as her leg.” She knew she would pay too much for the pair, but the slave masters of both households had sensed some mystery behind her purchase and drove a hard bargain, as if they knew she would meet whatever they asked. “No matter,” Claudia ordered. “Buy them.” To Liliana she whispered, “And find me one of those stone instruments.” Since her visit to the House of Sighs she had not been able to get the images from her mind. She had heard of slaves who made love to their mistresses on command and often earned themselves privileges into the bargain. Who could blame a man for bettering his lot in such a way? But her father’s slaves were mainly old and worn with years of work. Besides, how did one approach a slave for such a purpose? With no warm flesh she could order into her bed, maybe she could at least use a stone phallus.

The day the two slaves were delivered to the house, the family received word that Claudia’s older brother was camped outside the city. He had returned triumphant from wars in the far north of Gaul, bringing booty and three hundred slaves. There were thousands of slaves in Rome and it was a constant problem to replenish their numbers. They often died young because of hard work and poor treatment. Others were freed by unusually kindly owners, especially if a female was impregnated by her master, who might have no wish to see his own offspring in servitude. Cassius was waiting outside the gates of Rome, ready to make a triumphal entry parading all the riches he brought to the city. The household was in a flurry of excitement and preparation for two days. Cassius’ rooms were made ready for him and fresh linens prepared to replace his war torn garments. He would pay his respects to the Senate after his procession and there would be many questions asked. But then he would come home and entertain his own friends. 16

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There would be dinners and drinking parties at all hours of the day and night. Claudia’s father ordered extra slaves to be on duty to change soiled cushions on the eating couches and to keep the vomitoria clean and in good order. The majordomo ordered flasks of wine, fresh and salted meats, grapes, figs and apricots. Amid the preparations, Claudia had no time to examine her latest purchase. She sent them to the slave quarters and instructed Liliana to see they were properly clothed. Their former masters had sent them barefoot and in rags. The day of the triumph Claudia traveled with her father and Liliana to a vantage point on the roof of a house overlooking the parade route. Cassius led the procession, standing in a magnificent chariot drawn by two white horses, waving to the cheering crowd and tossing coins into the multitude. His hair was cropped short and his winged helmet, burnished to a deep shine, sat on a ledge in front of him. Claudia’s heart swelled with pride. After Cassius came his soldiers, tramping steadily through Rome as they had tramped over miles of foreign soil. Then more horses and mules and pack animals drew heavy wagons loaded with treasure. Last came the slaves. Most were men, since they were invariably captured soldiers. Some were wounded and walked supported by their comrades. They would not last long. If their arms were strong they would be sent to the galleys, but otherwise they would be discarded. The few women shuffled in their chains with eyes down, their faces mostly hidden by their long hair. Then Claudia’s eyes were drawn to the last line. Two fine male specimens supported between them a wounded comrade who could not keep the pace. Both were tall, broad in the shoulder and although one was dark and one fair there was enough of a resemblance between them to indicate they might be brothers. Their hair and beards were braided with leather thongs and their torsos bare, gleaming with sweat in the sun. Narrowing her eyes against the glare, Claudia made out the slender lines of tattoos on their chests and arms. They kept their heads up, as proud as kings even when muttering

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words of encouragement to their comrades. Their chains swung from sculpted arms and their thigh muscles rippled as they flexed to the rhythm of their march. Claudia felt her mouth go dry as it had when she had watched the two slaves making love. The muscles in her belly tightened and quivered and she closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, the brothers had turned their heads and their bold eyes dwelt on her and Liliana. She heard her slave girl draw in a shuddering breath and whisper the name of Venus, though whether she was asking the goddess for help or thanking her she could not tell. The men kept up their steady pace, still supporting their companion, still with their gaze locked on the two Roman women. Claudia felt their eyes burning into her very soul as if they could read every thought in her mind. And the thoughts in her mind made the warmth rise in her cheeks.

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Chapter Three “You’re drunk!” Claudia could not hide the disgust in her voice. “And it’s not yet the sixth hour.” Cassius leaned against a pillar and laughed. “What does the hour have to do with it, dear sister? Wine flows at any time I choose. I have earned it.” She had no doubt the campaign had been hard, perhaps she should make allowances. “Come and sit now you are home.” She patted the cushions beside her on the couch. Cassius straightened on wobbly feet. “Later. Must see Father first. I have a gift for him. Get that over and I can relax.” She had a good idea what his notion of relaxing might be. He reeled toward the door, then turned and frowned at her. “When do you leave for Pompeii?” She was surprised he even remembered her imminent marriage. “Next week. I want to get there before the winter storms and Father has ordered a boat.” “Very wise. Wouldn’t want you pale and nauseated on your marriage bed.” With a coarse laugh Cassius rolled from the room. Claudia glanced at the slave girls. Liliana had Amelia with her, teaching her the ways of the household and what their mistress expected in the care of her clothes and hair. Liliana gave a small smile of sympathy. She had grown up with both of them and had no illusions about Cassius. But Claudia’s mind was on Cassius’ reminder of her departure. In a month’s time she would be the wife of an old man in the small town of

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Pompeii. The visit to the House of Sighs had not helped her. On the contrary, it had served to underline what she was missing. Every time she looked at Petrus, or stole a glance at Amelia, she saw them naked in her mind, saw him kissing the girl’s soft belly, taking the stone implement to slip it between her legs…

Later in the evening, Claudia paused by the atrium to speak to her brother. The shadows were long in the garden and the splashing fountain shimmered in the growing dusk. Sweet perfume from a night-scented flower filled the air. Cassius’ hair was wet and his jaw clean-shaven. She caught the faint tang of a lemony fragrance on his skin. “I’m glad to see you’ve sobered up a bit.” “And ready to begin again.” Cassius leered at her. “My friends will be here as soon as I’ve dined with Father.” He offered her his arm. “Let us proceed.” Without a word she laid her hand on his forearm. They walked through the arch of the comidus and she saw her father already reclining on one of the dining couches, leaning on one arm, picking at a bowl of nuts. Standing behind her father’s couch were the two slave brothers from the triumphal parade. Her steps faltered and she drew in her breath, her fingers tightening instinctively on her brother’s arm. Without his support she knew she might have sagged against the wall. The two men were clean and their hair had been washed. But they were still halfnaked, their chests bare and skimpy loincloths covering their hips. The fair one held a flagon of wine and his dark brother carried a large goblet, ready to be filled on command. They remained rock still, but their eyes flicked toward her and a sudden tension rippled in their muscles as they became aware of her presence. Her heart pounded in her chest, sending a rush of blood to her face and neck. She was sure everyone must see her emotions on her face. But Cassius seemed not to notice and led her to her couch, then strode round the side of the room to the slaves. 20

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“What do you think of my gift?” he asked. Her father scowled. “The two of you, cluttering up the house with more mouths to feed. Can’t think why you imagine I need more slaves,” he said, but Claudia could tell he was concealing his pleasure. Cassius ignored him and ran his hand down the muscled arm of the dark one. “This is Pius,” he said. “His true name is something unpronounceable, of course.” He moved to the other. “This one I call Verus.” His ran his eyes down the slave’s torso and smiled. “He has some remarkable attributes,” he said and lifted the short tunic. Claudia saw the man’s fingers whiten around the flagon of wine and his jaw ripple as he clenched his teeth in anger and humiliation. His penis lay nestled in a thicket of curls, but Claudia could see that even at rest it was long and thick. Ever since she had returned from Capri it seemed that some fate conspired to force her to contemplate the male organ. The young men at exercise, black Petrus, the stone phallus. She had shape, size and texture to consider. She decided the penis was a beautiful thing. A closer acquaintance would not be amiss. “We could have some fun with this.” Her brother brushed his hand over the cock, which stirred gently. Claudia looked at their father. Would he not recall his son to order? But the old man stared at the scene with a half smile, completely won over by his famous offspring and the adulation he received from powerful people. “Twins, sons of kings,” Cassius went on. “Compelled to do my bidding. Of course, if you don’t want them, send them to the gladiator school. They should do well.” He let the tunic fall, shrugged and threw himself on his couch, reaching for some olives. “Or send them to Pompeii with Claudia.” Father grunted. Claudia averted her eyes from the two slaves, filled with sudden rage and shame for her brother’s behavior. Cassius spat out olive pits and looked at his sister. “So you’ve been buying slaves, have you? Which ones?”

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From the corner of her eye she could still see Verus, could picture that virile cock now veiled by thin linen, but she swallowed and forced herself to reply calmly. “A pair that caught my fancy. I thought I would take them to Pompeii.” At that moment Liliana and Amelia came in bearing dishes of food. They hesitated for a moment at the sight of the new slaves and Claudia noticed a pink tinge to Liliana’s cheeks. With barely a pause the girls proceeded to the lord of the house, but Cassius propped himself up and grabbed for Amelia as she passed by. He slipped an arm around her waist and yanked her to him, jerking her off balance so the dish she was carrying spilled some of its contents. “I approve of this one,” he said. “I’d like to see more of her. I’d wager Verus would too. What an entertainment that would be.” Claudia saw the color rise in the girl’s face and the way her body stiffened, as she leaned away from Cassius’ steely grip. “Behave yourself,” Claudia snapped. “I own her. She’s not one of the regular household.” “Oh, possessive are we?” Claudia had lost any appetite and could stand no more. After a polite bow to her father, she motioned with her hand to her two slave girls and left the room Outside the comidus she put a hand on Liliana’s arm. “Send her out,” she whispered. “But, Madam–” “Do you want to watch her raped by that giant in there?” She jerked her head in the direction of the dining area. “That’s what Cassius has in mind. Find an errand and send Petrus with her.”

Late that same night, when Cassius’ rowdy friends had fallen at last into a drunken stupor, Claudia sat in the atrium, hidden in the darkness. Fireflies twinkled around the statues, and the altar of the lares and penates, the household gods. Sounds of snores

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came from the comidus. She had judged it more politic to leave the carousers where they lay, rather than risk wakening them to anger or a desire for more wine. Amelia had not reappeared and Claudia had sent Liliana early to bed, serving the wine herself. She mulled over the events of the last few days. Without any doubt, she was no longer the same woman who had flung herself petulantly on the couch of the villa in Capri, complaining of her impending wedding. She looked at the world differently now. For one thing, she found herself wondering what Liliana thought and felt, even though she had been taught since childhood that slaves did not have the same feelings as civilized men. How could they, lacking instruction and refinement? On an impulse she’d bought the two slaves—and now what was she to do with them? She had no idea what was happening in the slave quarters. Were they sleeping in each other’s arms? Had Petrus brought his stone phallus with him? Or were they now mingling flesh to flesh? She shifted on the stone bench at the thought and drew her shawl around her shoulders. Liliana had brought her a copy of the stone implement about the same time the negotiations were finished to purchase Amelia and Petrus. Claudia had hidden it in the chest containing her summer robes. So far she had taken it out several times, caressing its smoothness between her hands, wondering what it would feel like to slip it into the moist folds between her legs, but she had not used it. She could not say why. Tonight had only served to cause her to question herself even more. Despite her upbringing, she much preferred the love between her two slaves to the drunken debauchery of her brother. She frowned, trying to work things out. The civilized men she had seen tonight were uncouth and unfeeling. The slaves were caring and loving, although she was not so naive as to believe all were the same. She sighed. It was hard to change the thoughts of a lifetime.

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As she let out her breath she caught a movement from the corner of her eye. She sat very still, waiting.

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Chapter Four Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, so she could make out the shape of a man walking along the stone path between the plants and statues of the atrium. Who was still about at this hour, apart from the watchman on the gate? As she sat motionless, the moon emerged from behind a cloud and the silvery light fell on Verus’ hair and shoulder. She drew in her breath as she felt her heart race and her abdomen grow tight. Why would a mere slave cause such a reaction? She wanted him to pass her by. No. She wanted him to see her, wanted to speak to him. She rose to her feet as he drew level with her. He saw her immediately and halted on the path, his eyes downcast. “Mistress,” he said in passable Latin. His low, musical voice sent shivers down her spine. Suddenly, she knew what she wanted. “Approach me,” she commanded. His gaze flicked over her but after a mere second’s hesitation he moved obediently two paces forward. He carried a bowl and a cloth over one arm. He must have been instructed to clean the vomitorium after the night’s excesses. The scent of soap and fragrant herbs wafted from him. She reached out her hand and traced one of the tattoos on his shoulder with the tip of her finger. And saw the muscle quiver under her feather touch. The moonlight rimmed him while she remained in shadow. The silvery sheen outlined the swell of his biceps, the curve of his chest, the hard muscles of his abdomen.

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The tattoo snaked from his shoulder, around one pebbled nipple, down his belly to the edge of his loincloth. As she followed its path with her fingertips the cloth stirred. That huge cock was coming to life at her caress. The thought drove all other considerations from her mind. She could think of nothing but lying spread-eagle under him, that hard shaft nudging at the folds of her opening— Creamy warmth spread around her thighs and her belly ached in a way she had never known, making her want to groan aloud. With an effort she suppressed the sound. She saw his jaw tighten as it had when Cassius had touched him to display his nakedness, but whether now from anger or desire, she could not guess. “Verus,” she whispered, “you know you must obey me as mistress of the house?” “Yes, my lady.” His mouth set in a rigid line and his whole body stiffened with tension. She slipped her hand in the waist of his loincloth and heard his hissing intake of breath. “I am not like my brother,” she murmured. “I will not make you do anything you do not want.” “No, my lady.” His voice was pitched even lower than before and she caught a hoarseness that had not been there earlier. “What do you think of me?” She saw his throat quiver as he swallowed. “You are very beautiful, my lady.” “So they say.” Her fingers met the hair on his belly and she stroked more firmly. His loincloth was tented now, and he gave a faint groan, but she did not touch his swelling cock. Time enough for that. “Did you notice me at the parade?” His mouth twisted at the memory. “May the gods forgive me, but I did.”

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“Why should the gods forgive you? I certainly noticed you.” She brushed the back of her hand over the pulsing lump still screened by the cloth hanging on his hips. It jumped under her hand. “I should not notice my enemy in that way.” “What way might that be?” She moved her hand behind his waist and skimmed the hard cheeks of his ass. He closed his eyes as if in pain. “Do you mean with lust?” “Yes,” he whispered. “But your warriors have—”she hesitated a moment “—intercourse with women they have conquered?” “They do.” Her heart was beating so hard in her ears she could barely hear her own voice and her legs trembled. She raised one hand to rub her breast and calm the tingling ache and moved the other to take hold of his fingers. “Then let’s pretend I am a spoil of war. Come with me.” She led him to the door leading to her rooms and bade him leave his cloth and bowl. He did as she commanded and paused at the entrance. “There is nothing to fear,” she said in a low voice. “No one dares enter my chambers without my permission. Come.” She drew him with her deeper into the private apartments. The moon gave enough light through the window openings for them to skirt the furniture. In the center of the main room, in a circle of silvery light, she turned to face him. “Put your arms around me.” Hesitantly, he raised his arms and placed them loosely around her waist. She took half a step forward, allowing the tips of her breasts to skim his chest. The fire that shot through her at the touch made her cry out. The dart of lightning skittered through her to the aching spot between her legs. She felt the hard tip of his penis against her lower

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belly. It nudged against her oh so gently, as if seeking permission to thrust further. Her shawl slid from her shoulders to lie at her feet. She glanced up at his face. Moonlight outlined the hard wedge of his jaw and the sensuous curve of his lips. His eyes were blue like the summer seas, and his hair sprang like wheat from his forehead. His gaze swept from her brow to her lips. She had not much experience with men, but she knew desire when she saw it. That was good. She raised her hands to his shoulders and caressed him along the line of muscle and down his biceps until she clasped his forearms. He closed his eyes. “What are you thinking?” she asked. “I’m thinking that even if my lady plays with me for one night and then sends me to the galleys, I shall die a happy man.” “Oh, an elegant speech. But I think I might play with you for much more than one night,” she whispered and bent her head to lick his hard nipple. “And I would never send you to the galleys.” “Provided I continue to please you.” She glanced up at the harshness of his tone and saw his mouth twisted with bitterness. “Even if you displeased me, there are other things…” she paused. “…you can do with a slave,” he finished for her. “You can sell me, beat me, starve me, turn me into a gladiator—” She placed her fingertips against his lips. “Shh. I will do none of those things. You have my word. I can do nothing about the fact that my brother’s army brought you here in chains, but now you are in my household.” She felt his lips move under her fingers and pulled her hand away. “I will not displease you, my lady.” “No, I don’t believe you will.” As she spoke she loosed the loincloth and let it fall to the floor. She took a step back to drink in the perfection of his body. His wide shoulders tapered to a hard belly and slim hips. His penis jutted long and hard and weeping at the

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tip. She touched the drop of liquid that trembled there and saw his whole frame shudder. “What is your true name, Verus?” she asked. “Karl.” “I can say that,” she said with a smile. “At least it’s not Vercingetorix. So, Karl, would you like to fuck me for the rest of the night?” She saw a blank look on his face at her use of the crude word. “I see I shall have to teach you some more Latin.” She slipped her hand around his cock and pulled him gently toward her. “Fuck means to put this inside me. Is that what you’d like?” He did not reply but made a hoarse, almost animal sound in his throat and suddenly seized her by the nape and hip, crushing her mouth beneath his. She gave a squeak of surprise and waved her arms helplessly. Without loosening the pressure on her mouth he moved toward one of the massive stone pillars that supported the ceiling. He thrust her back against the cold marble and dropped his hands to gather her robe between his fingers, pinning her in place with his body. He released her mouth for a moment and she touched her tongue to her bruised lips. With a mutter of frustration he let go of the folds around her legs and took hold of the edge of her bodice between her breasts. With one forceful gesture he ripped the fabric from neck to hem, leaving her as naked as he.

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Chapter Five Karl held her against the pillar with one hand planted on her belly. He took half a step back. She saw the dark flush on his cheeks and the glitter of his eyes in the moonlight. Somewhere a dog barked and a harsh voice responded. In the silence she could hear his intake of breath and a long exhalation. She kept her eyes on him, watching his every move, wondering what he would do next. With his free hand he took hold of her nipple and tugged on it gently. She flung her head back and cried out at the pulse of heat and pain that lanced through her to settle between her legs. Instinctively, she edged them apart as if to entice him in. But he ignored the discreet invitation and began to stroke her up and down, around her ribs, at the top of her thighs, circling her breasts. She sagged against the marble column, only held there by his strong hand, like a butterfly pinned to cork. He drove her systematically to a frenzy of desire until cream dripped from her. “Now, my lady,” he murmured. “Who is the one to be obeyed?” She rolled her head from side to side, lost in a red mist of desire. “You.” “What was it you invited me to do?” “Fuck me.” “Ah yes, that was the word.” He repeated it again, rolling it in his mouth, his accent making it exotic, tempting. “I have just one question.” “Yes?” Oh, please get on with it, she screamed in her head. Ram it into me now! “Was it a command or a request?”

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She swallowed the moisture in her mouth with difficulty. “Which would you prefer?” “Ah, still some strength in you to debate. You need some more conditioning.” He held up her melting body with both hands cupped under her breasts. He squeezed the soft globes until only the nipples protruded and began to lick and suck at them in turn. She brought her hands in front of her and grasped his pulsing cock. It was large and thick and as hard as the stone implement that lay in her chest. But it was also warm and quivering with life. “Ah,” he said again. “Are you letting me know what you want?” “Yes.” She barely had the strength to utter the monosyllable. “Ask.” She would have done anything he demanded. This was an easy order to obey. “Please fuck me. This is not a command, but a request.” She saw the gleam of his teeth as he smiled in satisfaction. On an indrawn breath she started to turn, expecting to move toward the couch that lay nearby, but he held her more tightly in place, leaning into her with his chest and shoulders. In a sweeping movement he hooked his hands under her thighs and lifted her, parting her legs so her opening was tight against his cock. “Put your legs around my waist,” he ordered, echoing her earlier words. She obeyed, as limp and senseless as a rag doll. As she raised her legs, she felt his hands tighten on the cheeks of her ass, holding her like a vise. At the same time, his cock pushed into her and she gave a sob of pure pleasure as he stretched her wider. His breathing grew more ragged as he thrust into her. The tip of his penis rammed hard against another sensitive spot deep inside her and she wound her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

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When there was not so much as a hairline of space between their bodies, she felt something begin to grow and surge deep inside her. With every thrust of his magnificent cock the feeling swelled, like a tidal wave on the sea. When she thought she could bear it no more, it burst like a bubble, making her muscles clench and sending shards of exquisite torture through her. There was noise. She thought she screamed and heard Karl bellow at the same instant. He lowered her legs to the ground and they clung to each other, their sweat-slicked bodies still moving in the aftermath of the tempest that had struck them both. “What was that?” she whispered. “That, my lady, was a foock.” He still mispronounced the word slightly. She smiled. It had become their special word. “You were tight and narrow as a virgin.” He spoke against her hair. “From years of neglect.” “We shall remedy that, if my lady so wishes.” She shot a glance at him and saw his mouth curve in a small smile, the gleam of amusement in his eyes. “I think my lady will so wish and wish often. Can you do that every time?” He cast his eyes down modestly. “Usually.” “How often in one night?” Why had no one ever told her about this incredible experience, allowing her to wither away like a grape left on the vine in winter? No wonder the poets spoke so longingly of love. “Probably three. Just because I like to make it last.” She shivered at the thought. “You’re cold,” he said, misunderstanding. “Come.” He picked up the shawl she had let fall and led her to the couch, both of them naked and unconcerned.

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She sank down on the cushions and he covered her with the soft woolen shawl. She took his hand and made him sit beside her. “Are you cold?” He shook his head. “You warmed my blood for a while to come, my lady.” “Did I? Did I really?” She felt absurdly pleased that he should say so. He stroked her fingers and the fire darted up her arm. “You have a gift.” She arched her brows. “I do?” He nodded seriously. “A gift for foocking.” He glanced at her and she saw his lips contort as he hid a smile. She burst out laughing and he joined her, his laugh deep and smooth like his voice. “Why are we laughing like a couple of maniacs?” she said, wiping her eyes on a corner of a large cloth that lay over the back of the couch. He grew serious. “Because we are maniacs,” he said. “I am a slave, the lowest of all and you are a highborn lady. If anyone should find out what we have done—” She pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Not a word. It won’t happen.” He kissed her fingers, arousing the dampened fires in her belly. “What else do you have to show me?” she asked. Before he could answer a raucous voice sounded from outside in the atrium. “Who’s awake?” a man called. “Anyone there?” “One of Cassius’ friends,” she breathed. Karl put his finger to her lips and turned to pull the cloth from the back of the couch. He wrapped it quickly around his shoulders and slipped from the room. For a moment she sat naked where he’d left her, trying to come to terms with what had happened. She ran her palms down her sides, slick with the moisture of their two bodies. There was a pleasant ache between her legs and her breasts still burned from his touch. She let out her breath in a silent laugh. She’d done it! She’d commanded a slave to make love to her, but he had turned the tables on her, making her beg him to fuck her. She’d tasted the pleasures of the marriage bed, without benefit of a wedding. 33

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In her ignorance, she’d thought that a taste would satisfy her, but now she knew differently. She was already planning their next tryst before the liquid between her legs was even dry. Cassius’ drunken friend must have gone back to sleep, for all was quiet once more. Wrapped in her shawl, she lay down on the couch and closed her eyes, hoping to relive all the delicious sensations of the last hours… She awoke to her brother’s loud voice and a thumping noise outside her door. The pearly light of dawn allowed her to see the shapes of her furniture clearly, and a bird was already practicing his morning song. “Pig!” Cassius bellowed. “I’ll have you in the galleys! I’ll have those balls off you!” Claudia sprang to her feet, threw on a robe and ran to fling open her door. Karl was on the floor at her threshold, covering his head with his arms, leaving his back open to Cassius’ kicks. As she stepped from her room her brother swung his foot in a wide arc and landed a blow in the slave’s ribs. “Cassius, what are you doing? Stop it!” She grabbed hold of his arm with one hand and held her flimsy covering with the other. Cassius stepped back and caught his breath. “The dog was spying outside your door. Dirty—” He readied himself for another kick. “He was not!” She dragged her brother two paces away and nodded to Karl to get to his feet. It was obvious he’d curled up across the entrance to her rooms to make sure no wandering drunkards found their way to her. “Your carousing friends were on the prowl last night. I saw Verus returning from his duties and instructed him to remain at my threshold.” Cassius put a hand to his head as if in bewilderment. “Damn head hurts,” he muttered. “Wanted to find some wine.”

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“Verus will fetch you some wine.” She nodded again to Karl, who quickly bowed and retreated. “Come, sit in the atrium. The morning air will clear your head.” Her soothing voice had the desired effect and Cassius’ rage left him as swiftly as it had come. He followed Claudia meekly to the atrium and allowed her to settle him on a stone bench in the warmth of the sun. “There, brother, you will feel better soon.” “Thank you, sister.” Encouraged by his calm tone, she decided to seize the moment. “I felt safe with him across my door. Maybe you’re right, I should take them both to Pompeii with me.” He grunted. “Talk to Father. I don’t think he really wants them. He was complaining again last night about feeding and clothing them. He might be glad to be rid of them.” “Will you suggest it to him again?” Cassius yawned and lifted his face to the light. “If that’s what you want. They can be your wedding present.” Thank you,” she said meekly. “I shall make good use of them.”

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Chapter Six Cassius was invited out to dine the next day. The meal would be in the early afternoon and then the serious drinking would begin, so he would be gone at least twenty-four hours. Claudia’s father shut himself in his office with his secretary to go over accounts. He had complained of tiredness after the upheaval of Cassius’ arrival, so would most likely retire to bed as soon as dusk fell. Claudia caught only a glimpse of Karl and Pius during the day. For one heartstopping moment she thought Cassius might take them with him, but he departed with his own slaves, who knew their master’s whims from years of exposure. After picking at the midday meal, she ordered Liliana to fill a bath with warm water and fragrant herbs, lay back in the steam and closed her eyes. “What are you dreaming of?” Liliana asked. Claudia smiled a lazy smile. “All sorts of things,” she said and opened one eye. “Tell me, what do you think of the two new slaves?” She had heard that lovers found every opportunity to hear their beloved’s name and it was certainly true. Liliana looked surprised that her mistress would even mention slaves, but she replied calmly. “Verus and Pius? They are strong.” A blush rose up her neck and stained her cheeks. Claudia sat up in the bath. “Liliana! What thoughts make your cheeks red?” The girl cast down her eyes. A dreadful thought struck Claudia in the heart. Was she competing with her own slave girl? “Do you like one of them?” The words almost stuck in her throat. Liliana glanced up from under her dark lashes and nodded. “Pius,” she whispered.

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Claudia let out her breath and sank back in the water. “They are sons of a king,” she said. “But slaves now.” “True. So, tell me what you like about him.” She swished her arms in the water in an effort to hide her tension. “They can both read and write,” Liliana said kneeling beside the bath. “Pius is gentle, but Verus is the leader. Headstrong sometimes, from what his brother says. They have read all the books on war strategy. It was only the betrayal of one of their captains that led to their capture.” “Hmm. That’s what they all say in defeat.” “I think it is the truth. They have contrived to send a message home to ask for treasure to secure their ransom—” Claudia stood, splashing Liliana and sending water onto the tiled floor. “Then you had best make the most of his time here if he is angling to leave,” she snapped. She had given no thought to the possibility of Karl buying his freedom himself. In her silly head she had dreamed of him accompanying her to Pompeii and serving her for years to come, maybe even as a free man eventually. Liliana shook out her tunic, held out a drying cloth and wrapped her mistress from head to toe. Without a word, they went to the high table where scented oils were laid out. Gradually, Claudia relaxed as the slave’s skillful hands massaged and smoothed her limbs, easing out all the tension. Perfumed and relaxed, Claudia sent the servant away and settled by the window to wait for Karl. She had not told him to come, but he would be there. “Show me what else you know,” she’d said. He would not be able to resist the opportunity.

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She took the marble phallus from her chest of clothing and held it in her hands. Would he use it on her just as Petrus had used it on Amelia? If she asked him he would. But Petrus had not been able to fuck his beloved with his cock. There would be no such problem for Karl. She laid the stone shaft on the couch in readiness. At last dusk sent long shadows into the rooms around the atrium. As she had predicted, the house fell silent soon after. She refrained from lighting the oil lamps and sat in the growing darkness, her ears attuned for any noise outside her door. The light took on a deep, almost purple tinge from the sunset. The night-scented stock had begun to perfume the air when she heard him at her door. For such a large man he moved quietly and swiftly, and before she knew it he was in the room with her. She had no doubt it was Karl, even in the half-light. She knew his build, the way he moved, lithe as a cat yet purposefully and steadily. She stood and put out her hands. Within three strides she was in his arms, his mouth hard on hers, her face buried against his chest, her hands moving hungrily over his back, his sides, down to his thighs. She lifted the skirt of his short tunic and found his sex, warm and hard, ready for her. Juices flowed from her, lubricating, preparing the way for him. She moved backward to her bed, drawing him with her, still glued together. Small animal noises came from her throat as the back of her knees hit the edge and she fell back. He knelt beside her and leaned over her to kiss her gently, pulling at her lower lip with his own, sliding his tongue into her mouth to tease and tantalize her. The taste and feel of him, so warm and clean and at the same time rock-solid, pushed her immediately into the hot swirl of desire. He lifted his face and kissed her forehead, almost as if she were a precious statue of a goddess. “I thought the day would never end. I cannot tell you how I’ve longed for the time to pass.”

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She put her arms round his neck and he lifted her loose robe, undressing her slowly and carefully until she was naked on the bed. He released the fillet that held her hair and smoothed the locks down on her shoulders, spreading the thick tresses so they covered her breasts. He put his hands between her legs, tracing up the line of her inner thigh, sliding his fingers between the soft, moist folds, playing with her. His eyes were hot and bold, glittering in the faint, magical light that came partly from the last dying rays of the sun and partly from the moon newly risen. Those burning eyes locked onto hers as he moved his hands over her, watching her face, studying her. She knew her face mirrored every nuance of feeling as he touched her and her hot desire grew and swelled in her belly. Then he shook his head as if in wonder. “Claudia, Claudia,” he whispered. Her name sounded beautiful on his lips. He closed her eyes with his lips. “No thoughts now,” he murmured in her ear. “Just feel me on you, in you, around you.” He lay down beside her and slid his hand between her legs again. She opened her eyes. She wanted to watch him, unable to bear to miss anything he might reveal on his own face while he gave her such pleasure. He parted her folds with probing fingers, his eyes holding hers the whole time. When he found the spot that made her jump he used the very tips of his fingers to flick at it and stroke it, orchestrating just enough pressure to bring the sweet wave to the surface, making every inch of her skin tingle and glow. She felt his tongue, supple as a cat’s, flick her nipples as if lapping delicately. They hardened into pebbles and he took them in his mouth one by one to suck. When she groaned, he lifted his head to watch her. “Stay with me,” he said softly. “Stay with me, my lady.” She rode the wave he created, spread her legs when she felt the pressure of his hand pushing apart her thighs, sucked in her breath as his massive shaft plunged into her creamy wetness. His hands snaked under her shoulders and he held her tight, not 39

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allowing her any respite from the incessant thrust of his cock until her orgasm shook her to the core of her being and she felt him burst inside her. Afterward they lay languid and sleepy on the bed, their bodies hot and slick in the summer night. Liliana had left a bowl of rose petals in water on a small table and Karl dipped his fingers. With a light touch that made her sensitive nerve ends quiver and jerk, he traced a cool, wet line from the corner of her mouth, down her throat and to her breast. He circled one areola, making it stand up again. She gasped and he was quick to lift his fingers. “Do you want me to stop?” “No,” she sighed, steering his hand back onto her breast. “I can’t bear it, but don’t stop.” His feather touch moved on to her ribs, her belly, the thatch of curls hiding her opening. She sighed in contentment and he shifted on the narrow bed, knocking his forearm against the marble phallus. He picked it up. “What’s this?” She looked at it dreamily. “Just a few days ago, I thought that might be the only thing that would ever slide between my legs and give me pleasure. It’s what the slaves use because they cannot foock like you and I.” He glanced up at the mispronounced word and smiled. “Did you use it?” She shook her head. “No. The next day I saw you—” He piled cushions behind her to prop up her head and shoulders, then braced himself on one elbow and moved his legs to give her more room. “Open for me.” Obediently, she moved her legs apart and watched him as he positioned the phallus at the juncture of her thighs. “I think I shall like watching you while I push this in,” he murmured. “And know that you are watching too.” He wiggled the marble tip between her folds and smiled again as she arched her back against the soft pillows. He tortured her with the stone shaft, pushing it in, drawing it back, even removing it altogether so he could nibble at the wonderful soft

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spot that drove her mad. He flicked his tongue into her opening, then pushed in the phallus to reach high and deep. All the time his eyes were on her, on her mouth, swollen and hot, and her eyes, which followed his every move. At last, when she was on the point of begging for release, he gave a final thrust and she broke apart, clutching at his arms and seeking his lips with her ravenous mouth. He held her until the trembling abated and then turned her to sit astride him. “Ride me.” She spread her legs again and lowered herself on his cock, doing what he had done to her, letting him slide inside her then pulling away, squeezing him with her internal muscles until he bucked and shouted under her.

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Chapter Seven For the next week, Karl crept into her bed at dusk and showed her things she had never imagined, leading her into the exquisite pathways of sex and to the thousand expressions of desire. At first he left her warm bed, redolent of the fragrance of consummation, and stretched himself before the threshold to guard her. But Cassius’ friends did not return for another night of debauchery and on the third night she held him close, refusing to let him go. So she slept in his arms, her legs twined around his, his shaft nestled between her legs or in the crack of her bottom, until they woke at first light and his cock came to life and she opened her body to his thrusts. In just a few days he seemed to belong in her bed. In her life. “Do you think you will buy your freedom?” she murmured one night in his arms. She felt him tense. “Perhaps.” “Then you would leave me.” She no longer believed that he made love to her because she commanded him, but who could ask a man to remain a slave for any reason? He drew in a deep breath and his arms tightened around her. “I might buy the freedom of my body,” he said. “But my heart will never be free. I pray to our gods that there will be a way for me to keep you beside me.” “Then let us hope your gods are more powerful than ours.” Nevertheless she increased her visits to the temple of Venus and paid extra money for special prayers and intercessions.

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One morning she slid from the bed to drink some water and turned to watch him still sleeping. Shivering in the dawn air, she slid under the deliciously warm covers and the coolness of her skin against his made him stir. A few movements of her hands, a few kisses on his eyes and mouth, and he was fully awake, fully aroused. Without a word she welcomed him into her, molding her body to his, urging him on. Although she lay beneath him, it was not in submission. She took her own pleasure just as he took his, claiming her due with a soft cry of victory. She closed her eyes and felt him climax inside her… In late August, eleven days before the Kalends of September, they sailed from Rome. Cassius had been as good as his word and arranged for Claudia to take the two slaves with her to Pompeii. On the dock, she embraced her father with tears in her eyes, unsure if she would see him again, for he was growing old and had lost much of his energy. But he gave her a cheerful smile. “I’ll make the journey when you produce my first grandson.” They were a small group on the boat—Petrus and Amelia, Liliana and Pius, Claudia and Karl, together with a crew of six and a captain. They headed in fair weather for the Bay of Naples and the smaller bay of Pompeii in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius. Claudia loved the water and was never happier than sailing over blue seas with a brisk wind. The breeze kept up for the first two days and they had no need of the oars. Karl and Pius were from seafaring people and worked with the crew to handle the ship. But the others lay groaning, vowing they would rather die than stay at sea. “You won’t die,” Karl said. “Eat dry bead and drink water. It will pass.” At night she sat with Karl on the deck and watched the stars above and the leaping dolphins below. When the others were quiet, they crept together into a hammock and let the movement of the waves rock their bodies as they made love and drifted into sleep.

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The captain seemed to pay them no mind, his preoccupations being with wind and tide and not with besotted lovers. Claudia noticed that Petrus and Amelia slept together too, but she said nothing. Liliana and Pius were still sending hot, shy glances at each other, and each took their own hammock at night. On the third day, they were nearing the Bay of Pompeii when the wind shifted, beginning to blow more strongly and directly onshore. The captain grew more anxious as the seas increased in size and he shortened sail and stationed his men on the oars to keep them away from the coast. The sun had just passed noon when they heard a low roar. They rounded the headland and the lookout gave a shout, pointing inland at large, dark cloud. It rose from a mountain behind the town and was shaped like a tall pine tree. A long “trunk” rose into the air and branches spread out on either side. Some of the cloud was white, in other parts there were dark patches. “What’s happening?” Claudia asked. The captain shaded his eyes to peer at the shoreline. “That’s Vesuvius,” he said. “The mountain has awoken.” At that point a quadrireme with its four banks of oars rounded the point and made for the town. The captain shook his head. “There will be no way out but by boat. Some brave sailors are on their way to rescue what they can.” The town had appeared as a smudge beneath the slopes of the mountain, but its lines were now growing hazy, as if it were shimmering in summer heat. The rumble was muted now, but incessant. Claudia took Karl’s hand. “What shall we do?” “We cannot make landfall. How many live in this city?” “Very many. It’s prosperous and fertile.” Her own future husband was there, with his warehouses and farms and although she had no wish to marry him, she felt a pang of sorrow. Despite the efforts of the crew, the ship was drifting steadily towards the shore. The dark cloud had spread, shutting out the light of the sun. Ash began to fall on them, 44

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darker and denser as they drifted in. Something hit Claudia on the arm and she picked up a piece of pumice, blackened and burned. The captain had spent years peering at distant horizons and his eyes were trained on the shore. “What falls on us is falling tenfold on the city,” he said. “There is no way to land, the debris is forming shoals. I can see the surf breaking on rocks that were never there before.” He turned to give an order to his crew. “Head for Stabiae,” he called. “Stabiae is on the other side of the bay,” he explained. “Mayhap we shall be safe there. We cannot pull out to sea until this cursed wind changes.” The quadrireme had obviously had the same thought, for it was speeding ahead of them, propelled by the onshore breeze and its four banks of stout oars.

The wind carried them in to shore in almost total darkness. Flaming torches flickered on the beach and they saw people huddled together. Through the smoke they could make out the bulk of the houses that made up the village. “Get off the boat,” Karl ordered. Claudia coughed. The air had grown thick and difficult to breathe. “We should stay on the water—” she protested. Karl grabbed her arm. “And where will you run to if the ship is hit and burns? On land we can move farther away and find shelter.” He pointed to the cliffs that continued into the blackness. As Claudia set foot on the land, a strong tremor shook the Earth and she stumbled. Karl caught her as she fell. The buildings were rocked by movements that made the land as unsteady as the sea. They seemed to have come loose from their foundations and slid this way and that.

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“We’re better to stay outdoors,” Karl said and ushered them all under the shelter of a sail that had been strung close to the beach. Burning stones rained down around them. Claudia gathered her little group together. Pius and Liliana were missing and she looked around wildly. “I must find them,” she insisted as Karl tried to hold her back. Just then the couple appeared out of the gloom, their arms full of pillows. “We found these in one of the empty houses,” Pius said. “Put them on your heads.” Obediently, they covered their heads and the air filled with the stench of burning feathers as hot coals fell on the cushions. It was still daylight in Rome but here it was darker and thicker than any night. Broad sheets of flame lit up the flanks of the mountain and the sea rumbled and hissed not a hundred yards from their feet. The refugees from the town had brought torches whose flames flickered in small competition to the fires of the mountain. The three couples huddled together, clinging to each other with no thought of propriety. Liliana shot an anxious glance at Claudia, but when she saw her mistress in the arms of a slave she gave a smile and nestled against Pius’ broad chest. Claudia’s eyes were hot and dry and her skin prickled from the hot dust and ash. A thickening layer now covered everything, seeping between their clothes, coating their limbs so that they began to resemble stone statues more than living beings. She leaned back against Karl and closed her eyes. What was to become of them? Of the captain and the crew there was no sign, but the ship still bobbed within sight. She heard women crying, children wailing, men shouting. Some were calling for lost children or spouses, hoping to find them by their voices. Many prayed and sent up fervent appeals to the gods. Others yelled that there were no gods anymore and this was one last, unending night for the world. Claudia coughed up some of the dust from her lungs. Karl pulled her closer into his shoulder and wiped her mouth, then kissed her forehead with dry, hot lips. “Put this 46

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over your face,” he said and handed her a piece of cloth. “I have some for the others too.” They all bound the material over their noses and mouths. It seemed to filter the worst of the particles. It grew lighter, although they knew it could not be from the sun, but a sign of fire approaching. The flames stopped a distance away, but more ashes came. Karl released her from his arms and stood, his face lifted as if scenting the air. Pius rose too and they conferred in quiet tones. Claudia became aware that the movement of air now wafted against her other cheek. The wind had shifted. Karl and Pius seemed to come to a decision. Each brother bent forward to take the hand of his lover and raise her to her feet. Petrus and Amelia stood beside them. Claudia pulled the mask from her face to speak. “What is it? What do you want to do?” “We take the ship.” “Take it? Where?” “Home.” Claudia stood still and Karl tugged her arm to get her moving again. “You know what the captain said, there is no way out but by sea. Once these people realize they can leave, they will commandeer the ship. Hurry.” “Where is the captain?” “Gone long since. Someone said he had family on the other side of the hills.” They scrambled along the beach, stubbing their feet on fallen rocks, struggling to draw breath in the thick air. Once on board Karl and Pius made haste to cast off and hoist a sail. “Take the oars,” Karl shouted. “All of you.”

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Claudia had seen enough slaves rowing to know what she should do. She and Liliana shared one of the wooden oars and pulled with all their strength. At first the boat seemed tied to its mooring even though the ropes hung free. Then, slowly, it began to move and its prow swung round. Karl hoisted the slackened sail, the breeze caught it and the hull cut faster through the water. A shout went up from the shore and several brave souls flung themselves in the water as they realized what was happening. But there was no hope of them reaching the ship. Claudia was thankful she was not called upon to beat off any boarders. As they pulled away from shore, the air grew more breathable and the darkness lifted as if they were sailing into a dawn. Suddenly they broke though the enormous cloud into bright, pure sunlight. Spontaneously, a cheer went up from all of them. Karl seized her in his arms and kissed her, crushing her mouth beneath his. “My love, my Claudia,” he said. “We did it.” She looked up at him. His face was black with soot and ash and his eyebrows and beard were singed. His hair was matted. “You look almost as bad as when I first saw you,” she said, running her hand over a burn mark on his cheek. “But with a lighter heart. We’re going home.” “So you said. Would you mind telling me where is home? I suspect you don’t mean Rome.” He threw back his head and laughed. “No, indeed. Come, my love and I will tell you all about it. My father will be overjoyed to see his sons return with comely brides…” He led her away to sit on a pile of ropes, still keeping an eye on the swelling belly of the mainsail.

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Epilogue Claudia sat by the pool and waited for her husband, watching the steam rise lazily into the cold air. It had been a big concession that Karl had built the bath for her, for his people bathed in natural springs and in the ocean, when they bathed at all. Close by lay a linen undershirt and a saffron tunic, made of wool and with long sleeves. There was also a stole in a shade of green like new leaves, which she would need later in the evening. The climate here was colder than in Rome and the winds and rain more frequent, but she had no complaints. In Rome she had believed that a slave would seize an opportunity to better himself, even if it meant sleeping with his mistress on command. But Karl’s lovemaking had soon made her realize that he made love to her because he wanted to. When he’d seized the boat off Pompeii he could have escaped with his brother and left her behind, but he had wanted her with him. Their reception had been every bit as exuberant as Karl and Pius had promised and the king, their father, had welcomed his two new daughters each with a kiss and elaborate gold jewelry. Her former life now seemed like a half forgotten dream. She had known she would likely never see her father or brother again when she left for Pompeii, but nonetheless Karl had offered to dispatch a message for her to let them know she was safe. She thought long and hard, and then declined his offer with a loving kiss. “I love you for the thought,” she’d said, “but my father has already grieved for me, believing I was lost in Pompeii. Besides, I would hate to give my brother an excuse for another campaign.” She rose to stand near the fire to warm herself, then loosened the linen shift she wore. Underneath she was naked. 49

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She heard Karl’s footsteps outside the door. The mere sound of his voice made her muscles clench in her belly and the warm moisture start to flow. He had been hunting in the early morning and then sat with the council for the remaining hours. The hours of separation made her long for him even more. At last he entered the chamber, thrusting aside the heavy woolen hangings. He was already tugging off his cloak as he strode in. Already unbuttoning his tunic as he moved toward her. Their eyes locked on each other as he threw his garments to the floor. He sat down on a stone bench beside the pool while she knelt before him to unlace his boots made of soft skin. When he stood she untied the fastenings of his trousers and they fell to the floor. Still he had not touched her. He knew it drove her wild when he withheld his caress until she could bear it no longer. He stepped out of his clothes and gave her a nod. She never could get enough of him naked. She drank in the details of his body, then lifted her robe over her head and stood before him. His cock stood out, huge and thick. The sight of it brought more warm liquid between her legs and an ache deep inside her. She dropped to her knees and touched her mouth to the quivering shaft and licked off the pearly drop at the tip. He groaned deep in his throat and clasped her head between his hands. “Are you ready for me to foock you?” “When am I ever not ready? I think of you all day and imagine your homecoming…” “That’s good. But I think we should bathe first.” She pretended disappointment. “Oh, but husband, your poor wife needs—” “My poor wife needs a spanking if she does not agree to what her lord says.”

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She cast down her eyes, her heart beating a frantic pulse in her throat. “Yes, my lord.” He reached down to stroke the curls at the junction of her thighs. “This will receive attention when I deem it the right time.” “Yes, my lord.” He took her hand and raised her to her feet, then led her to the edge of the pool. They entered the water together, letting the warm ripples cover them to their shoulders. “Close your eyes.” Claudia closed them, a small smile hovering on her lips. “What are you smiling at, woman? Anyone would think I was about to touch you here.” His fingers brushed her nipple and she shivered. “Or here.” His hand wriggled between her legs as she opened her thighs. He slipped two fingers into her, then three, lifting her in the water on the palm of his hand. “Is that what my poor wife wants?” He clamped his lips to hers and moved his fingers inside her. She nodded, unable to speak. His tongue pushed into her mouth, stroking the sensitive lining just as his fingers were stroking the walls of her vagina. They had made love in every conceivable position, but he knew she liked it best like the first time, with her legs around his waist, fingers clinging to his shoulders, because he could thrust so deep inside her. “Put them around me,” he murmured in her ear. She let her legs float up and fastened them around his waist. He took his fingers from her cunt and slid his cock into her. It was still as incredible as the first time, the second time, the third… She kissed him back with all the love and passion she could muster.

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At the moment she came he thrust hard and said, “I think it’s time we produced an heir.” She felt the warm gush of his seed in her.

The End

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About the Author Margrett Dawson has been a nomad most of her life, and has lived in six different countries. She is settled for a while with her own romance hero on Vancouver Island on Canada's Pacific Coast, where she loves to craft sexy stories about people who fall in love. She will move on again (this time to Africa for a few months) but will continue to spin tales, especially about people who find romance when they least expect it. Margrett welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 10.56 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502

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