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Marcella's Dangerous Liaison

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Livia:

Livia Urgulanilla is the only child of the governor and his now deceased wife. She was much doted on as an only child and, as can be expected, grew up spoiled and self-centered. Now, at 20 years old, she was, for an aristocratic young Roman woman, of an age when she was expected to be married, or at least engaged. But the reason Livia was neither was much her own fault. Though very attractive in a cool, sharp-featured way for a woman, her personality as something of a harpy was well-known, and deserved. She was highly contemptuous of her social inferiors and quite vain in general. This was not uncommon behavior in Roman aristocracy. Livia, however, had a much darker, dangerous side that she carefully hid from her father and others.

She was, even at the young age of 20, quite experienced sexually. She lost her virginity at 13 to a young stable hand at her father’s villa north of Rome. When it was discovered what had occurred the young man was quietly killed to cover up the incident. This did not stop Livia. She continued to have sexual encounters with various men that created such possibility for scandal that her father decided to ask the emperor for a provincial governorship so as to get his daughter out of Italy. The Dalmatian governor had recently completed a lengthy term and retired so Livia wound up at age 15 in the governor’s palace at Salona.

Livia’s sexual proclivities now included girls. She had her body slaves, Hyrmina and Philea, obtain girls and even young women for her bed. These lesbian affairs were far easier to conceal. All this activity was kept secret from her doting father who thought his daughter had reformed her ways. Livia was obviously highly intelligent so her father hired the best tutors to see to her education. She managed to seduce one of them. His lifeless body was later found floating in the sewers of the city.

By the time she was 18 Livia had earned a fearsome reputation among the palace staff. It was widely accepted that she could dispose of anyone who displeased her, so her requests, however trivial, were acted upon as though they were the word of god. By the age of 20 she was firmly in control of the operation of the palace. Her father had aged a lot since the recent rebellion and was beginning to withdraw from official life, ruling instead through various assistants and functionaries.

Livia’s cruel streak and utter indifference to the suffering of others extended to secretly visiting the city dungeons. There she would watch the torture of men and women and sometimes even participate. The warden was too terrified of her to object and did his best satisfy her requests. She became quite adept with the lash, especially when applying it to the naked bodies of young women.

Livia took great advantage of her social status as the daughter of the governor and, as the senior woman in the governor’s household. She was always able to manipulate her father to get from him almost anything she wanted. And what she wanted most of all right now was a husband of the appropriate rank and stature. Despite her cruel streak and sexual perversions, she was not crazy. Rather, like many sociopaths, she managed to conceal her true nature from others. She was ambitious and wanted to be a great lady of Rome, and perhaps, if the gods willed it, even the wife of an emperor someday. Just like an earlier Livia in Roman history – Livia Drusilla, the wife of the god-emperor Augustus – Livia Urgulanilla wanted, more than anything, to be the power behind the throne of Rome.

But the odds of achieving this goal were virtually nil is she did not marry well. Part of the problem was that Livia lived in a Roman province, not Rome itself. Though her father was governor of the province, and a man of considerable power and influence even back in Rome, Livia was distant from the political and power milieu where such things could more easily be arranged. Of all the potential suitors of appropriate stature and lineage in Salona, or even Rome for that matter, Marcus Aelius Severus was one of the most eligible. His family was one of the most ancient in Rome and he was clearly being groomed for senior military leadership or high political office someday. So Livia set her eye on him.

The governor wanted a good marriage for his daughter as much as she. Livia made it clear to him that she favored young Marcus Aelius and desired that her father arrange a social meeting. Hence, Livia was introduced socially to Marcus him at a formal dinner at the governor's palace. Livia took an instant liking to the handsome Marcus, and although the two chatted amiably all evening it was obvious to Livia that he was not as interested in her as she was in him. How could he not be? She asked herself. He should have been entranced with her! After all, she was a beautiful, young, aristocratic Roman woman. Perfectly suited to him socially, highly intelligent and educated. Her conversational skills across a wide range of topics and areas of learning were exceptional, though she was careful not to sound too intelligent or interrupt when Marcus was talking. Though not given to giddiness or laughter by nature, she nonetheless behaved girlish and light-hearted at the appropriate times. She had studied his family’s considerable history of accomplishments in detail and flattered him with her knowledge. So, if Marcus wasn’t lured in by her obvious beauty, sparkling conversation, and apparent sincere interest in him, she was also prepared to appeal to him by her raw sensuality.

Livia wore a specially commissioned gown for the occasion that clung to her slender figure and was draped low enough in front to give Marcus ample opportunity to admire her swelling, creamy breasts. The fabric was sheer enough that the outline of her figure and her long, slender legs were obvious when she stood in front of the setting sun or a brightly burning brazier. When she stood as straight as possible and held her chest high, her prominent nipples pressing into the fine fabric were tantalizingly visible. What man doesn’t ogle nipples, she figured. She stood close to Marcus whenever possible, taking every opportunity to press her breasts into his arm and her hips into his side, touching him lightly, and using her sultry voice to keep him constantly focused on her presence. Other young women in attendance were more than a little shocked by her behavior. None of them tried to seriously attract Marcus’s attention. They knew of Livia's reputation. It was understood that he was here for Livia alone.

At dinner, Livia arranged for Marcus to recline on the couch next to hers, so she would remain easily visible to him. All through dinner she admired Marcus’s effortless ability to charm those around him. She had to work hard at being charming as it was not natural for her given her sociopathic tendencies. Marcus’s charm was no doubt largely due to his good looks. He looked every inch to be a classic, virile Roman man. Like Livia, Marcus was an excellent conversationalist and keenly intelligent. He was congenial and witty but Livia also saw in him the ability to be manipulative and able to bend others to his will. She sensed, correctly, that his deeper character was darker and more controlling than what he showed in public. Clearly the mark of an aristocrat. She approved greatly. They seemed ideally matched. She’s be a perfect wife for him. And she’d see to it that he climbed to the heights that she, Livia Urgulanilla, aspired to!

But the nagging question: Why wasn’t Marcus interested in her? Livia convinced herself there had to be another woman. A competitor! She must find out who it was. So she had him followed. Well, as much as was possible while he was in the city. Livia directed her trusted personal slaves, Hyrmina and Philea, to follow Marcus around as much as possible and report back to her on his activities. Livia’s two slaves had been with her for the past five years, since her arrival in the city, and were wholly dedicated to their cruel mistress. Livia knew there were no Roman women in Salona, or even in the whole of Dalmatia, of higher rank than she. If Marcus was seeing any of them there would be ways of dealing with a competitor of a lower social rank. And if he were seeing a common woman, such as a provincial, or even a whore, there are ways of dealing with them too.

Eventually it was reported to Livia by Hyrmina that Marcus indeed had been seen with a certain provincial girl. Livia was enraged! Marcus was to be hers! This provincial cunt had no business trying to woo a man of such rank. She was utterly beneath him. Yet men, to Livia’s understanding, no matter how high-born, always had a taste for the flesh of inferior women. She could never understand why. Livia ordered her slaves to keep track of further meetings between them.

Marcella Intro 08.jpg Livia swore to herself: “This bitch will not keep Marcus from me!

The relationship between Marcus and the provincial girl had gone on for several weeks. According to reports from her slaves, Livia was somewhat surprised that it was still, apparently, a non-sexual relationship. This seemed incredibly odd. The girl was reported to be quite beautiful, by provincial standards. How had Marcus not fucked her yet? The slaves reported that the two were meeting in the gardens behind the Temple of Venus. Livia ordered them take her along next time Marcus and the girl met so she could see this provincial girl for herself.

Marcella 002.jpg The next time Marcus and Marcella were observed in the gardens, Hyrmina sent Philea were there to see them. Philea quickly returned to the palace to inform her mistress. She returned with Livia in just enough time to see Marcus and Marcella say their goodbyes.

Marcella 003.jpg"There they are my lady," says Hyrmina, pointing to the embracing couple. Watching from a safe distance, so as not to be noticed, Livia is horrified to see Marcus associating publically with this lowly girl. "How can he do this to me?" She hisses to her slaves as she points towards Marcus.

Marcella 004.jpg Livia's face grows utterly cold, then filled with rage as she watches Marcus and Marcella embracing. She turns away as they depart the forum by their separate routes so that Marcus will not see her. She does approach quite closely to Marcella and gets a very good look at her. As reported, she is beautiful. But again, in an inferior provincial sort of way. Rather dark-skinned. Most unlike the fair skin of a proper Roman lady. Whatever did Marcus see in this creature and why hadn't he just fucked her by now and be done with her!

Marcella 006.jpg "I will not stand for this!" Livia shouts to her slaves. "Follow her. I want to know where this bitch lives. And I must know her name and family!"
 
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Livia:

Livia Urgulanilla is the only child of the governor and his now deceased wife. She was much doted on as an only child and, as can be expected, grew up spoiled and self-centered. Now, at 20 years old, she was, for an aristocratic young Roman woman, of an age when she was expected to be married, or at least engaged. But the reason Livia was neither was much her own fault. Though very attractive in a cool, sharp-featured way for a woman, her personality as something of a harpy was well-known, and deserved. She was highly contemptuous of her social inferiors and quite vain in general. This was not uncommon behavior in Roman aristocracy. Livia, however, had a much darker, dangerous side that she carefully hid from her father and others.

She was, even at the young age of 20, quite experienced sexually. She lost her virginity at 13 to a young stable hand at her father’s villa north of Rome. When it was discovered what had occurred the young man was quietly killed to cover up the incident. This did not stop Livia. She continued to have sexual encounters with various men that created such possibility for scandal that her father decided to ask the emperor for a provincial governorship so as to get his daughter out of Italy. The Dalmatian governor had recently completed a lengthy term and retired so Livia wound up at age 15 in the governor’s palace at Salona.

Livia’s sexual proclivities now included girls. She had her body slaves, Hyrmina and Philea, obtain girls and even young women for her bed. These lesbian affairs were far easier to conceal. All this activity was kept secret from her doting father who thought his daughter had reformed her ways. Livia was obviously highly intelligent so her father hired the best tutors to see to her education. She managed to seduce one of them. His lifeless body was later found floating in the sewers of the city.

By the time she was 18 Livia had earned a fearsome reputation among the palace staff. It was widely accepted that she could dispose of anyone who displeased her, so her requests, however trivial, were acted upon as though they were the word of god. By the age of 20 she was firmly in control of the operation of the palace. Her father had aged a lot since the recent rebellion and was beginning to withdraw from official life, ruling instead through various assistants and functionaries.

Livia’s cruel streak and utter indifference to the suffering of others extended to secretly visiting the city dungeons. There she would watch the torture of men and women and sometimes even participate. The warden was too terrified of her to object and did his best satisfy her requests. She became quite adept with the lash, especially when applying it to the naked bodies of young women.

Livia took great advantage of her social status as the daughter of the governor and, as the senior woman in the governor’s household. She was always able to manipulate her father to get from him almost anything she wanted. And what she wanted most of all right now was a husband of the appropriate rank and stature. Despite her cruel streak and sexual perversions, she was not crazy. Rather, like many sociopaths, she managed to conceal her true nature from others. She was ambitious and wanted to be a great lady of Rome, and perhaps, if the gods willed it, even the wife of an emperor someday. Just like an earlier Livia in Roman history – Livia Drusilla, the wife of the god-emperor Augustus – Livia Urgulanilla wanted, more than anything, to be the power behind the throne of Rome.

But the odds of achieving this goal were virtually nil is she did not marry well. Part of the problem was that Livia lived in a Roman province, not Rome itself. Though her father was governor of the province, and a man of considerable power and influence even back in Rome, Livia was distant from the political and power milieu where such things could more easily be arranged. Of all the potential suitors of appropriate stature and lineage in Salona, or even Rome for that matter, Marcus Aelius Severus was one of the most eligible. His family was one of the most ancient in Rome and he was clearly being groomed for senior military leadership or high political office someday. So Livia set her eye on him.

The governor wanted a good marriage for his daughter as much as she. Livia made it clear to him that she favored young Marcus Aelius and desired that her father arrange a social meeting. Hence, Livia was introduced socially to Marcus him at a formal dinner at the governor's palace. Livia took an instant liking to the handsome Marcus, and although the two chatted amiably all evening it was obvious to Livia that he was not as interested in her as she was in him. How could he not be? She asked herself. He should have been entranced with her! After all, she was a beautiful, young, aristocratic Roman woman. Perfectly suited to him socially, highly intelligent and educated. Her conversational skills across a wide range of topics and areas of learning were exceptional, though she was careful not to sound too intelligent or interrupt when Marcus was talking. Though not given to giddiness or laughter by nature, she nonetheless behaved girlish and light-hearted at the appropriate times. She had studied his family’s considerable history of accomplishments in detail and flattered him with her knowledge. So, if Marcus wasn’t lured in by her obvious beauty, sparkling conversation, and apparent sincere interest in him, she was also prepared to appeal to him by her raw sensuality.

Livia wore a specially commissioned gown for the occasion that clung to her slender figure and was draped low enough in front to give Marcus ample opportunity to admire her swelling, creamy breasts. The fabric was sheer enough that the outline of her figure and her long, slender legs were obvious when she stood in front of the setting sun or a brightly burning brazier. When she stood as straight as possible and held her chest high, her prominent nipples pressing into the fine fabric were tantalizingly visible. What man doesn’t ogle nipples, she figured. She stood close to Marcus whenever possible, taking every opportunity to press her breasts into his arm and her hips into his side, touching him lightly, and using her sultry voice to keep him constantly focused on her presence. Other young women in attendance were more than a little shocked by her behavior. None of them tried to seriously attract Marcus’s attention. They knew of Livia's reputation. It was understood that he was here for Livia alone.

At dinner, Livia arranged for Marcus to recline on the couch next to hers, so she would remain easily visible to him. All through dinner she admired Marcus’s effortless ability to charm those around him. She had to work hard at being charming as it was not natural for her given her sociopathic tendencies. Marcus’s charm was no doubt largely due to his good looks. He looked every inch to be a classic, virile Roman man. Like Livia, Marcus was an excellent conversationalist and keenly intelligent. He was congenial and witty but Livia also saw in him the ability to be manipulative and able to bend others to his will. She sensed, correctly, that his deeper character was darker and more controlling than what he showed in public. Clearly the mark of an aristocrat. She approved greatly. They seemed ideally matched. She’s be a perfect wife for him. And she’d see to it that he climbed to the heights that she, Livia Urgulanilla, aspired to!

But the nagging question: Why wasn’t Marcus interested in her? Livia convinced herself there had to be another woman. A competitor! She must find out who it was. So she had him followed. Well, as much as was possible while he was in the city. Livia directed her trusted personal slaves, Hyrmina and Philea, to follow Marcus around as much as possible and report back to her on his activities. Livia’s two slaves had been with her for the past five years, since her arrival in the city, and were wholly dedicated to their cruel mistress. Livia knew there were no Roman women in Salona, or even in the whole of Dalmatia, of higher rank than she. If Marcus was seeing any of them there would be ways of dealing with a competitor of a lower social rank. And if he were seeing a common woman, such as a provincial, or even a whore, there are ways of dealing with them too.

Eventually it was reported to Livia by Hyrmina that Marcus indeed had been seen with a certain provincial girl. Livia was enraged! Marcus was to be hers! This provincial cunt had no business trying to woo a man of such rank. She was utterly beneath him. Yet men, to Livia’s understanding, no matter how high-born, always had a taste for the flesh of inferior women. She could never understand why. Livia ordered her slaves to keep track of further meetings between them.

View attachment 485132 Livia swore to herself: “This bitch will not keep Marcus from me!

The relationship between Marcus and the provincial girl had gone on for several weeks. According to reports from her slaves, Livia was somewhat surprised that it was still, apparently, a non-sexual relationship. This seemed incredibly odd. The girl was reported to be quite beautiful, by provincial standards. How had Marcus not fucked her yet? The slaves reported that the two were meeting in the gardens behind the Temple of Venus. Livia ordered them take her along next time Marcus and the girl met so she could see this provincial girl for herself.

View attachment 485128 The next time Marcus and Marcella were observed in the gardens, Hyrmina sent Philea were there to see them. Philea quickly returned to the palace to inform her mistress. She returned with Livia in just enough time to see Marcus and Marcella say their goodbyes.

View attachment 485129"There they are my lady," says Hyrmina, pointing to the embracing couple. Watching from a safe distance, so as not to be noticed, Livia is horrified to see Marcus associating publically with this lowly girl. "How can he do this to me?" She hisses to her slaves as she points towards Marcus.

View attachment 485130 Livia's face grows utterly cold, then filled with rage as she watches Marcus and Marcella embracing. She turns away as they depart the forum by their separate routes so that Marcus will not see her. She does approach quite closely to Marcella and gets a very good look at her. As reported, she is beautiful. But again, in an inferior provincial sort of way. Rather dark-skinned. Most unlike the fair skin of a proper Roman lady. Whatever did Marcus see in this creature and why hadn't he just fucked her by now and be done with her!

View attachment 485131 "I will not stand for this!" Livia shouts to her slaves. "Follow her. I want to know where this bitch lives. And I must know her name and family!"
That first picture of Livia chillingly shows what she is, as described in the story.
To misquote Henry II, "Will no one rid us of this troublesome pest?"
 
I already foresee a possible future.
Livia, powerful and cunning, contrives to have Marcella crucified for some imagined crime.
She then marries Marcus, the object of her desire.
Forever after, when they come together in the marriage bed, it is not Livia's enticing body yet sour face that Marcus sees in his mind's eye, but the naked figure of Marcella writhing on her cross. His husbandly passion is driven by the vision of his tortured lover.

I may be wrong. Livia's sexual proclivities includes girls. Perhaps she seduces Marcella, and turns her against Marcus. Perhaps she engages the sceptical Thessela as an ally, poisoning her mind against her sister, corrupting her innocence through decadent Roman sensuality.

Maybe I should stop at this point before my imagination runs away from me! :confused::eek::oops:
 
What if . . .should I?

Marcella waits for Marcus at the entrance to the garden, by the fountain where Marcus had carried her after she fainted on that first day they met. She paces back and forth, anxious to see Marcus again after nearly a week. He had to off on some duty outside the city, he had explained, but would be back today, ready to meet her as always. Here, at the eighth hour. It was past that time now. Oh, where is that man? She wonders.

Marcella as always, had arrived first. It irritates her a bit that Marcus is always late. Never as much as on the first time they agreed to meet, but late nonetheless. Why was he never waiting for her? As anxious to see her as she is waiting to see him. His body as much on fire with passion as hers. She had considered being late this time, on purpose, to make a point with him. But, as he’s always late, it seemed not a good idea. What if he left before she arrived? She worried she might never see him again. Why take the chance?

This week had been miserably long for her. She’d been a complete bitch to her mother and even to poor Thessela who knew why she was being such a bitch, yet kept her secret. Fortunately, it had coincided with her time of the month, so she had a plausible excuse for her parents. Still, she felt very sorry for how she treated Thessela. She didn’t deserve it.

As she paces, Marcella reflects on how Marcus always seems to be in such control of his emotions. Somewhat cool and distant, at first, though his passion warms as they embrace. But even then, never pressing her to make love or demanding that she do anything more than what she is willing to do at that moment. It was as though he was content to let her be fully in charge of their physical relationship. Curious, she thought, for a man. She had thought he’d be more insistent at some point, even more demanding. She wasn’t sure what she’d do at that point. Marcus’s surprisingly well-mannered behavior gave her great comfort and convinced her that he had genuine feelings for her – that he loved her as much as she loved him.

Yes! She whispers to herself. He must love me! Marcella crosses her arms over her breasts, her hands resting on her upper chest. She feels her heart beating and the heat rising to her face. She suppresses a wicked little grin knowing how quickly his erection bulges once they embrace. It thrills her to feel his growing bulge press into her belly! It fills her with such satisfaction knowing that her body – her presence – has this effect on a man. From the size of his bulge Marcella imagines his cock must be quite large when erect. It makes her feel light-headed knowing that one day they’ll make love, and that huge cock will be inside her! She squeezes her thighs together against the inevitable warmth quickly spreading out from her pelvis.

And what a glorious man he is! Marcella dreamily reflects. So handsome! So perfect! What a lucky girl I am. She congratulates herself (again) on being so nervy in meeting him as she did. On that first day I took the initiative, Marcella reminds herself, showing a little smile. Marcus would never know I was alive if I didn’t do what I did. He has no idea how lucky he is to have me! I’ll be sure to remind him how much I love him!

Finally, when glancing up for what seems the hundredth time, she sees Marcus approaching, walking down the steps from the temple plaza off the city forum. Late, as usual. (Oh, well.) Her heart skips a beat at seeing him after nearly a week. Yes! He is so handsome, isn’t he! And he’s all hers!

Marcus slowly approaches. His steps are measured, like he’s marching. A smile breaks across his grim face as he walks towards her, but he’s not rushing to her. Damn him! She thinks, why does he do this to me? Her cunnus, by now, has become quite wet, and her nipples are hard with the anticipation of his hands on her body. With her heart racing, she anxiously stands, ready to wrap her arms around him in loving embrace. She always runs to his arms, she reflects. He never runs to her. Is it beneath his dignity as a Roman officer? Or perhaps that’s just the way of all men, she sighs. They do not show their emotions as we women do. They must appear to be in control.

Marcella 001.jpg Marcella swears she won’t run up to him. Not this time! She wants to see him rush to her. But she can’t help it. She dashes into his arms yet again.

*****

In the garden, Marcella and Marcus sit, holding each other in close embrace, on what they call “our bench." They found this bench the first time they went into the garden, seeking privacy. Each time they’ve gone there since Marcella feels as though she and Marcus are slowly separating themselves from the rest of the world. Step by step they walk down the winding trail towards the back of the lush garden located behind the temple of Venus. (How perfectly appropriate!) Then off to the side to find the ivy-covered alcove set into the stone wall that encompasses the garden. Finally, to their bench. So utterly romantic! She knows the rest of the world is just beyond the mossy stone wall behind her for she can hear it: the many voices of the people, sometimes shouting and cursing; the sounds of carts and wagons; horses clopping along, neighing and snorting; the voices of various vendors, advertising their wares; and marching soldiers. Just the sounds of everyday life in a busy city. But when she’s wrapped in Marcus’s embrace, kissing him so intensely, feeling his hands over her body, the outside world completely vanishes. They are all that exists.

But today there are other sounds too. Far less ordinary, and very disturbing. The sounds of people hooting and jeering. The rattle of chains along the stones of the road. The sound of whips cracking and people screaming – in pain.

“Marcus,” ask Marcella, as she snuggles closer to him on their bench, pressing her head into his chest, “what is happening out on the road? It sounds terrible!”

“Nothing for you to be concerned about, my dear. He sweetly kisses her temple. It’s just the last of the rebels captured last week. They’d been holdouts in the mountains for several years now. We finally rooted them out. They were mostly bandits by now. They’re being taken to the dungeons under the courthouse.”

Rebels, Marcella thought. I had forgotten about all that. She was surprised there were still any holding out after these years.

“The dungeons?” She asks innocently. “Are they around here?”

“Yes. Closer than you think. You see, this wall separates us from the street and, as it curves around the this garden, it also stands against the back of the city courthouse. You can see the back of the courthouse rising up over there.” Marcella follows Marcus’s pointing finger and indeed, a short walk off in the distance, she sees the back of a tall building against the other side of the garden wall, partially hidden by tall, leafy trees.

“And the dungeons are where?”

“Well, under the courthouse. I’m not sure precisely where they are. Just not that far is all.”

“Why are they being taken there?”

Marcus chuckles at Marcella’s innocence. “Well, they’ll be questioned there about what they know. I can tell you that.”

“Will they be tortured? I’ve heard about what goes on in dungeons.”

“Only if necessary. To loosen stubborn lips. If they are tortured it is their own damn fault.”

“Will they get trials.”

“Well, rather summary trials. The fact that they are rebels condemns them already. A formal trial is hardly necessary.”

“But why have a courthouse then?”

“My, my. All these questions from you today, my pretty girl.” Marcus gives Marcella a hug and goes on to patiently explain. “The courthouse is the seat of the magistrate, of course. He can issue summary sentences based on already well-established evidence that is beyond questioning. As in the case of rebels or bandits, for example. Their very actions condemn them. Therefore, he can simply order them to be put to death -- crucified, as is generally the case. Formal trials are reserved for civil cases between citizens or for major crimes involving treason, conspiracy, fraud, embezzlement, and the like, where the truth may not be apparent.”

“Oh,” Marcella responds softly, “I think I understand.“ But deep inside she doesn’t. It seems, to her, that justice is meted out differently for different groups of people.

“Marcus.”

“What now, my sweet.” Marcus sighs, not wanting to answer more questions.

“Have you ever been to the dungeons?”

“No. Not these. Well, none ever. Dungeons are not where elite aristocrats such as I ever go.” Marcus says in a self-deprecating way. Marcella chuckles at the jest he makes at his own expense. See, he’s not always so proper, she says to herself. She keeps her face pressed to his chest. She feels his chest rise and fall as he breathes. Her hand is placed over his heart. She’s nearly trembling with pent up passion. Her cunnus feels as though it is dripping! She squeezes her thighs together. Oh, she wants him so badly! Her mind screams out that declaration. She loves him so much!

Marcella takes in a deep breath and exhales. “It’s hard to imagine such a horrible place so close to this lovely garden. Our little hideaway.”

She looks up at Marcus, smiles, and raises her face to kiss him. Yes, she feels so safe around him. So loved, even though he’s never said the words to her. The word she longs to hears, aches to hear. Men, she thinks to herself. Always so unwilling to say what they really feel. I know he loves me! Why doesn’t he just say it? I’ve told him how I feel. Maybe I just need to encourage him more? Should I let him slip his hands under my clothes? Touch me more intimately. We’re secluded here. I could easily pull down the top of my tunic. Show him my breasts. She knows how men get so excited seeing breasts. And Marcella knows how exquisitely perfect her breasts are. In the baths she can easily observe many naked women. Her breasts, measure up, so to speak, quite well. They are full and sit high on her chest. She has lovely, wide, brown areolas and pert, sensitive nipples, that grow quickly in length and width when stimulated. Just perfect!

Marcella so wants to reveal herself to Marcus, standing in front of him in all her nakedness, much like statues she’s seen of Venus disrobed. Yes, like the very statue near the temple off the forum! Though my body would even put Venus to shame, she chuckles to herself. Then blushing, as she realizes she’s comparing herself to a goddess. Careful, girl, she cautions herself. The goddess may not approve of the comparison and decide to eliminate you as a rival!

But Marcella brings her mind back to more urgent matters. If I’m prepared to show him my breasts, she thinks, should I also be willing to let him run his hands up my legs? Like I know he want to do! All the way up to my crotch. To my cunnus! He makes me so wet! I so want him to know that. If I let him use his fingers on me, to bring me to orgasm, will it convince him that my love for him is true? Will he then admit what he knows to be true in his heart: That he loves me too!

Marcus is slowly kissing the right side of Marcella’s neck, from under her jaw down to her shoulder with warm, wet kisses. He’s pulled Marcella’s tunic off her shoulder and she wonders if he’s planning to pull it down ever further. His free hand is gently cupping and caressing her left breast through her tunic. Her nipple is fully erect. Virtually bursting through the fabric. His fingers gently tweak the tumescent flesh, sending waves of pleasure through her. She has so often come close to orgasm just from this alone, but she always pulls back in time. Not wanting to lose control. At least not yet.

Despite Marcus’s quite pleasant, focused attention at the moment to her neck and shoulder, Marcella forces her mind to think about the status of their relationship. She loves him so much! But he hasn’t said anything to suggest he’s thinking about their future. Why not? How can he be satisfied with just this? Marcella considers what she should do to move Marcus along in his thinking of their future together. Perhaps I should let him see more of me, she considers. He’s been such a gentleman so far. So respectful of my wishes. That means he respects me as a woman. He’s willing to abide by my rules. Not take advantages. Perhaps it’s time to reward him? She smiles to herself. Yes, I’m in control here. I can decide what to permit.

Marcella decides she must move the relationship along. Things have stalled. She moves her free hand to the shoulder Marcus is kissing, preparing to pull her tunic down even further than he has, down so to expose her breast . . .

But wait! She wonders. Will things get out of control? Marcella hesitates pulling down her tunic. What if his passion runs away? Will I be starting something that I cannot stop? Perhaps I’ll be unable to control my passion once I’m almost naked with boobs exposed and my hem pulled up to my hips. Marcella sees the lovely bulge of his erection and so wants to slip her hand under and grab his cock. But she doesn’t want this to be the place where they make love for the first time. Not on this hard bench. Though secluded, Marcella realizes other people are nearby. They’ll think her a whore! No, I mustn’t give him my virginity just yet, she decides. I must have a promise from him, a commitment, first. He must ask me to marry him. That’s what it will take. Then I’ll be his wholly!

But perhaps I can still show him a bit more, she goes on to rationalize. He’s been a good boy. I’ll reward him. Marcella giggles as Marcus’s soft kisses tickle. She again brings her hand to her shoulder to pull her tunic top down a bit more so she can slip her arm out. A wicked little grin crosses her face. Not too fast now, she tells herself. Better to go slowly. She goes to her other shoulder, pulling the tunic over it. The top has slipped down her arms now. The tops of her breasts are exposed. As she deeply breathes in and out the tops of her dark brown areolas peek out, just visible. Marcus’s strong arm is around her, just under her breasts, pushing them up. Her heartbeats accelerate. Her breathing is rapid. Heat is rising in her. Soon the cloth will slip over her hard nipples and they’ll pop out into the open. Just another little tug and some wriggling and she’ll feel Marcus’s hand cupping her naked, heaving breasts.

But just as Marcella is committed to revealing herself to Marcus, she hears another loud scream from the other side of the wall, and the sound of lashing. More screams of agony, and again the sounds of heavy chains on the pavement. The voices are not clear, but she hears the loud, rough voices of soldiers. “Keep moving, you scum. Get on your feet. Move! You too, bitch! On your feet! Move you worthless cunt!”
 
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Games . . .

The horrible sounds immediately kill Marcella's passion. She pulls her tunic top back up and sits up straight, pulling away from Marcus.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. “Did I do something?”

“No. Not you.” Then stammering a bit “ I—I just can’t stand those awful sounds. Those poor people. Didn’t you hear them. They’re so terrible!”

“No, I didn’t. And remember, those ‘poor people’ are enemies of Rome.” Marcus replies coldly. “As I said, rebels and bandits. They are getting what they deserve.”

“Will they really be crucified? That’s such a terrible way to die!”

“Yes, it is. It’s supposed to be. It really sends a message about what happens to rebels.” Marcus shrugs, as though it’s nothing to think about. A Roman response, Marcella realizes, to the fate of provincials. He sounds so cold, she thinks. So different. How can he go from warm and loving to coldly indifferent so quickly?

“Oh, they could also be sold into slavery,” he goes on, “for work in the mines if they are strong and can be broken. Perhaps they’ll be sentenced to the circus for entertainment. Otherwise the cross, for sure.”

Marcella shudders at the thought of such horrible punishment. She remembers all the crucifixions when the rebel uprising was put down several years ago. When she went out looking for Barbara among the rows of crosses, but never finding her. A sudden awful realization shot through her. Barbara! Her sister! Could she be among those she hears outside the wall? The soldier or whomever was shouting at a woman! A woman was being lashed, was bound in chains. No, no! That can’t be Barbara. Sure, she ran off impulsively with a man who later was found out to be a rebel, but she was never a rebel herself. Barbara never spoke of rebelling against Rome. No. What she did was impulsive and out of love. Whatever happened to her sister, it was it’s inconceivable that she’d still be with these people. No, she was most likely dead, or run off somewhere.

“Please, Marcella. let’s go back what we were doing. I got the distinct impression you were about to show me something.” Marcus opens his eyes wide, arching his eyebrows and giving a goofy grin. His finger pulls at the top of her tunic as he peeks at her cleavage.

She sweeps his hand away and flattens the tunic against her chest. Yes, Marcella thinks, I was about to show you something special. But not now!

This discussion has cooled Marcella’s ardor for the moment. She hadn’t heard Marcus speak so coldly before about provincials. Her people! Yet, what he said is true. Some did rebel, take up arms, and later turn to banditry. Rome must keep order. Isn’t that best for everyone? Don’t think of Marcus as a Roman, Marcella tells herself. He’s just a man you’re in love with. And who is surely in love with you. She just has to get him to say it. Perhaps this is the time to press him for an admission.

Marcella leans back into him. I was bold once, I can be bold again, she says to herself. She looks him in the face. “Marcus,” she asks softly, her hand on his chest, over his heart, “do you love me?”

“Do I what?” He seems surprised by the question. “What do you mean? Of course, Marcella, I’m very fond of you. Surely you know that!” His hand reaches for her breast, but Marcella pushes it away. “Please, Marcus, not just now.”

Several weeks ago Marcella would have been ecstatic with this answer. With the intimacy of his touch. But not now. Not after their time together. She deserves more.

“I love you , Marcus. You know that. I’ve said it many times. Why can you not say it to me?”

Marcus sits upright on the bench, pulling away from her. “Look, Marcella,” he says firmly,“ I have great affection for you, from the moment we met.” He gives her a wink as though he knows something she does not. “Why do you need more than that?”

“More than that, Marcus?” Marcella’s voice rises, somewhat indignant. “Marcus, I’ve told you many times I love you. Why can you not say it to me? It-it hurts me that you are not willing to.” Tears begin to well up in her eyes. She slides away from him on the bench.

Marcus slides closer to her, closing the gap she opened up. He puts a hand on her shoulder. She flinches at his touch. “Marcella, what are trying to get me to say? What is your game here?”

“My game!” Marcella answers with genuine shock in her voice at those words. An intense, hurtful feeling flashes in her. “What do you mean by ‘my game,’ Marcus?” She asks angrily.

“Well, that might not be the best way to say it . . . “

“Yes, I agree Marcus!” Marcella says emphatically. That is most definitely not a word to use to a girl who has just said she loves you! What is ‘my game’? Oh, Marcus, you’ve hurt me deeply, so deeply! How could you?” Marcella is crying now. She wipes away tears. She turns away from Marcus and sits at the far end of the bench. “And to think, I was ready to—to . . . oh, never mind!”

Marcus, like all men in general, hardly know how to handle a crying woman. He makes matters only worse. “I’m sorry, Marcella. Excuse my awkward expression. I merely meant what do you want with this relationship of ours. I just don’t understand . . .”

“You don’t understand? Now you don’t understand!” She says over her shoulder at him. “What’s to understand! I said I loved you! Don’t you understand that?”

“Yes, I hear you. But please, tell me what you want.”

Marcella suddenly twists around on the bench, now facing Marcus. With tears streaming down her face she blurts out: “I wanted you to marry me, Marcus. That was my ‘game.’ I wanted us to marry. I wanted you to ask me to marry you. I wanted a family with you. I mean, after all this, don’t you think you could love me, and want to marry me?”

Marcus’s face goes blank as he hears Marcella’s words. “Marriage,” he says. “Marcella, did you really believe I would want to marry you?”

His words are like a stab to the heart. “Y—Yes,” she mumbles as tears flow. “I did. I thought you were the most wonderful man alive when I first saw you. The man I always dreamed about, now come alive before me. And you seemed to like me so much. You respected me. You wanted to see me. I thought, I thought . . . “

Marcus chuckled, then laughed. Then made his serious face again. “Marriage? Marcella, do you not understand who I am. I’m a tribune of Rome, and a member of one of its most ancient families. My lineage goes back to the Republic and maybe even to the founding. How could I marry a common girl like you? I mean, you’re beautiful and all. Wonderful in so many ways. And no doubt would be a wonderful lover. But Marcella, I must marry in my class, and you are not in my class.”

Marcella cries all the harder hearing these words. I have been made a fool of, she realizes, just like Thessela said I would be!

“Now, if you want to be my mistress, sure we can work out that arrangement. I’ll put you up in a fine house, with slaves and servants. I’ll even give you children, if that’s important to you. But marriage? No.”

Marcella continues to cry. Sniffling, she says “But I worked so hard to get you. At the temple. I bumped into you on purpose so we’d meet. You were so wonderful to me then. If I’m just a common girl, then why were you so nice to me?”

“Marcella, dear, let me clear up some confusion on your part. You may have bumped into me, but I saw you coming.”

“You what?”

“Yes, I saw you behind the column. You were obvious in stalking me. My friends and I were talking about when you “accidentally” tripped.”

“How-how did you know?”

“Marcella, I’m a military officer. I know when I’m under close observation. My life, and the life of my soldiers, depends upon it. And another thing. Women are trying to attract me all the time. Even socially-acceptable women whom I do not particularly like. The daughter of the governor has set her eyes on me, and quite frankly, I want nothing to do with her.”

Marcella stops crying. She wipes her nose on the hem of her tunic. Suddenly rather calm, but still shaken and feeling betrayed, she asks “But why did you lead me on Marcus? Why these meetings with me? I let you get so intimate with me, touch me, because I thought you a good man. I was ready to let you—let you . . .”

Marcella starts crying again as Marcus stands up. “Look, let me admit it. I was trying to – and excuse me for using this word – figure out your game. I thought you wanted something from me. Many women do. I thought I’d let you come out with it. After that first day my comrades and I had a little wager. It was ‘What does Marcella really want.’ I would play the good suitor and let you make all the advances until you would tell me what you wanted. I have to admit to being a bit surprised it went this far. Believe me, it was very hard not to force myself on you. You are an exceptionally beautiful woman. I’ve wanted to fuck you from the moment we met.”

Stung by the vulgarity, Marcella sits up straight and looks up at Marcus, staring him in the eye. “But you didn’t force yourself on me. Marcus, that was so cruel to lead me on. Had you made your intentions known that I was just a whore, basically, as you were concerned, I would have run away very quickly, and considered myself lucky for not being ruined by you. I am a virgin and was ready to give myself to you, completely as a wife. Oh, gods in heaven, how could I have been so dumb! Such a stupid, stupid girl!”

The cold side of Marcus fully emerges. “It may come as a surprise to you that many common women of exceptional beauty try to find a way to work themselves up in society. If that was your game, what you were seeking, then mistress is the best I can offer you. And I would be glad to have you for a mistress. As I've said, you are beautiful and charming and no doubt would be a very playful, enthusiastic lover. You’d be a wonderful way for me to relax, to . . .”

“So, I’d be just a ‘thing’ to you. Something to make you feel good. To pass time with!”

“Well, I’d certainly make it worth your time.”

Enraged at hearing such cold, callous words, Marcella jumps to her feet. She brings her arm around to slap Marcus in the face, but he catches her wrist in his hand and holds it tight. Keeping hold of her hand, he swings her around and pulls her back tightly against him with a powerful arm. With his free hand he viciously grabs her breast, painfully twisting her nipple. Marcella gasps with the pain, not wishing to scream and draw attention. She knows it would go badly for her if anyone investigated. After all, Marcus was a tribune and she just a common girl.

He whispers menacingly in her ear. “You are aware I could have you killed for even trying to hit me, or sold into slavery. You’re just a cheap little whore, trying to get something from your betters you do not deserve.” Enraged, Marcella reaches back with her free hand to rake his face with her nails. He avoids the attack and spins her away from him.

Marcella stumbles forward a bit. Then stands up facing him. “You’re a monster,” she shouts at him. A monster! How could I have been so blind?”

Grope Scene.jpg Marcus lunges toward her, reaching out with his hand and grabbing the flesh between Marcella’s legs. With his strong fingers, he digs painfully into her crotch, grabbing hold of her labia, squeezing hard. The thin fabric of her tunic does little to protect her. She winces with the sharp pain as tears flood her eyes. He pushes up, making Marcella almost stand on her toes. “Girls with a hot little cunnus and big tits are as cheap as sardines,” he sneers at her. They think they can get what they want by trying to seduce a man far above them in station. You have the body to be that kind of girl, Marcella, but not the understanding of it. Go home, little girl. Marry someone in your own class. You don’t know how to play this game!”

Slap Scene.jpg Marcus drops his hand from Marcella’s crotch. Just as he does Marcella swings at him again. This time her hand makes solid contact with the side of his face.

Marcus’s head snaps to the side from Marcella’s blow. He turns back to her with rage in his eyes. Marcella is suddenly terrified. “Please, don’t kill me,” she whispers.

Marcus steps in toward her. She’s too terrified to run. She closes her eyes, waiting for the pain to come. But nothing happens. She opens her eyes. Marcus is still in front of her – smiling now!

“Are you going to hurt me? She asks in a low, quavering voice.

“No, Marcella, I’m not. I must say, though, that you hit very hard!” Grinning, he holds his hand up to his face, working his jaw back and forth as though something was dislocated. Marcella sees the red imprint of her hand on his cheek. Marcus seems almost casual about what just happened. Like a completely different person.

“I respect you for what you did, Marcella. You defended your own honor. I bear you no grudge.”

Marcella 005.jpg With that said Marcus turns around and walks away, following the winding path out of the garden. And out of Marcella's life.

Marcella is left standing dumbfounded and shaking. Feeling dizzy she sits on the bench. Now never to be anyplace special. Just a stone bench in a garden. She remains there for as long as it takes her to stop shaking. Her cunnus hurts, a lot. She believes she may be bleeding. But this is no place to lift up her hem and investigate. She’ll have to wait until she gets home.

Once she’s regained her composure Marcella stands up, adjusts her tunic, and with her head held high walks out of the garden. As she blends in with the crowd in the forum she again fails to notice the women watching her from distance. They keep a safe distance from her as they follow her home.
 
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A beautifully written pair of episodes exploring the mind of a girl in love, up against a man with merely fun on his mind.

I fear Marcella may be better acquainted with those dungeons before long, Barbara will be there as well, can Thessela avoid them also? We havn't had a triple-sister peril for some time.
 
Another great couple of chapters, Marcella!
Hopes and dreams in tatters. Im sure Thessela means to be sympathetic, but probably won't be heard that way. And what of the stalker women? Surely now they'll leave Marcel alone since Marcus she's so clearly out of Marcus' favour.:confused::doh:

That Livia needs something bad to happen to her. :mad:
 
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