Cella
Spectator
This lovely pic so energized me to write!
The Betrayal
Marcella hangs nailed to her cross erected along the side of the street that passes in front of the stately house behind her. She is utterly naked and exposed to whoever passes by. The street is the Via Tusculana -- where the wealthy and upper-class live. Not the crass nouveau riche who live at the far other end of the Via Tusculana. At this end only the best people, of old money and rank live, in their opulent houses surrounded by lush gardens and tended by armies of servants and slaves. Well, Marcella thinks to herself, at least I’m being gazed at and harassed by the better citizens and not the rabble, although many a common tradesmen and slaves who serve the upper-class do pass by and gather to watch her writhe about in agony on her tall cross. She is a generously endowed and lovely young woman, barely twenty years old. Through the burning haze of her agony she still cannot believe this has happened to her. Yet, she saw it coming, for nearly three years now. But at the end it was so sudden, so unfair! Why? Why? She knew the answer: these were not the ”best people” at all. She grew up with them. She knew them and even loved them. But now she knows they are really beasts -- unscrupulous and unconscionable monsters. Not at all the people she thought they were.
Marcella was crucified in front of the house she had lived in her whole life. Well, not as a member of the wealthy family who occupied these walls. Of course not! She was not of the senatorial class of citizens, or even of the equestrian class; she was not even a full citizen per se. She was the daughter of a freedman and woman who had served the master and mistress of this house up until the time of their deaths almost seven years ago. Her parents first served the young master as slaves while he was on campaign in Gaul, serving as a Tribune of the legion. He was the scion of a noble family that had faithfully served Rome for many generations. His bravery in battle and impressive diplomatic skills earned him a sterling reputation. Upon return to Rome he married well and came to live in this huge, opulent house, his family's historical residence in the city. He was soon elected to the Senate -- which was nearly pro forma, there having been senators in his lineage for generations. He was, however, an able man of noble bearing and character, who deserved the title and honors that went with his station.
The senator had brought Marcella’s parents to Rome with him and, in reward for their loyal service to him, soon released them from their servitude. As free persons – though not quite full citizens -- they gratefully continued to serve him and his growing family of several sons and as many daughters. Three sons came first, the last born almost a year before Marcella’s birth. Marcella’s parents were not young when she was born. In fact, it was quite a surprise when her mother, Aleyda, became pregnant. It was seen as a good sign. Her father, Theoderid, suggested their new daughter be given a Roman name in honor of the senator and his beneficence toward them. Aleyda agreed and so the baby was named Marcella.
The senator’s three daughters were born next, the first soon after Marcella’s birth and the last two spaced about a year apart. Marcella grew up in the house among the children of the senator and his wife who thought of Marcella almost as one of their own. She played with the senator’s children and was accepted by them as both a younger sister to the boys and an older sister to the girls. She had free run of the house as a child and even as a young woman when she had specific duties and obligations to the family tend to.
Marcella’s life was idyllic, or nearly so. But then, in her thirteenth year, her mother died of a cancer that slowly gnawed on her until she was reduced to nearly skin and bones at the end. Her heartbroken, beloved father died barely a year later. He had broken his thigh in a fall. The senator spared no expense and he was given the best medical care possible. He was splinted and was resting comfortably when he started breathing heavily. He struggled with breathing for a minute or so then suddenly died. Marcella was with him by his bedside. The medicus gently explained to the distraught, sobbing girl that this often happens when a large bone, like the thigh, was broken. The senator, too, and his wife, consoled Marcella, assuring the budding young woman that she would always have a place in their hearts and home. After all, they both thought of her as a daughter and loved her as one of their own.
Marcella continued to grow up with the senator’s children. When younger, she often rough-housed with the boys, but as she matured she enjoyed quieter pastimes with the girls, with whom she formed deep, sisterly bonds of affection. As the “older sister” she helped shepherd them through their turbulent years of puberty as they grew into young womanhood together. Though never quite receiving the same return of affection as she gave, Marcella nonetheless felt protective of them and loved them as her true family.
But greatness of nobility and character does not always pass down the generations. The senator and his wife died suddenly, under suspicious circumstances. Marcella, then seventeen, was devastated. She loved the senator and his wife, whom she considered step-parents, almost as deeply as her own parents won. She mourned with her brothers and sisters and comforted them – especially the girls, as an older sister would. Her oldest brother, being of legal age, became master of the house. He soon married. His wife, though lovely and poised, was austere and distant, never giving Marcella more than a glance and ordering her about almost as a slave.
Her brothers, too, soon began distancing themselves from her. Always more emotionally remote, they were now brooding young men who had begun treating Marcella less than a sister and more as a servant, even to the point of becoming physically aggressive, grabbing at her as she passed, trying to “cop a feel” of her womanly breasts and firmly rounded ass as she tried to pretend she was not offended and humiliated. She protested, and they apologized, but it didn’t change their behavior for long. Marcella began avoiding them all the while praying their behavior would change as they matured.
Her sisters too, began emotionally distancing themselves from her. Marcella was certain it was because of the disrespectful behavior of her “brothers.” She loved her sisters but knew in her heart they were becoming as spoiled and thoughtless as her brothers who were developing into cruel and entitled young men. She also began to suspect her sisters disliked her for her appearance. Marcella never thought much on it when their relationship was good, but as she matured she knew it was true. Marcella never thought of herself as a beautiful woman, but she had blossomed into one. Her sisters, however, though cute enough as children, never grew into great beauties, despite the refined looks of their aristocratic parents and the rather dark, arrogant handsomeness of their brothers. Something was missing in their character, too, which seemed to manifest itself in their physical appearances and demeanor as upper-class young women.
While Marcella grew from a tomboy into a tall, beautiful, and full-figured young woman, her sisters turned out pale, listless, thin-lipped and somewhat plain. As the hormones of puberty and young womanhood flooded their bodies, they all seemed to be plucking dark hairs that appeared on upper lips, chins and defiantly tried to fill the spaces between already bushy eyebrows. The eldest sister even developed unfortunately hirsute nipples that did nothing to improve her overall sense of womanliness and attractiveness, such as it was. Though wishing desperately that it was not true, Marcella was well-aware of the growing gap between her and her step-sisters and brothers.
Matters came to a head nearly two years after the old master and mistress had died. There was talk of revolution in the air as the old order was being assaulted as being out of touch and corrupt. Suspicions were being raised about the death of the senator as he was widely recognized in his day as a reformer who has attracted many enemies. Suspicions even swarmed about that his eldest son had conspired to have him eliminated so as to preserve the entitlements of the rapidly distant and uncaring upper class. Marcella heard of these accusations and determined that it had become too dangerous to remain with her step-family any longer. Marcella didn’t want to think her oldest brother was involved in anything murderous, but it was clear to her that her oldest brother was not the man the senator had been. Rather, quite the opposite. He had aligned himself with the aristocracy that was determined to remain in power. His positions had slowly convinced his other siblings that their future lay with an entrenched, isolated, privileged social structure. Having none of their parents’ noble character they quickly fell into line. Almost overnight Marcella went from being a sister to the enemy; a member of the lower class that was to be subjugated and not lifted up. The chill in her relationship with her step-brothers and sisters was palpable; she had to flee.
They caught her as she tried to leave the city in a hired carriage. Hired thugs brought her back to the house she grew up in. She was locked into a cellar room, one that she knew from her childhood as a place where she and her sisters would hide away and play, and talk, and try to imagine themselves one day married and happy. Now this formerly happy room was a prison. She cried herself to sleep curled up on the floor, but was suddenly awakened by the sound of the heavy wooden door opening. Her brothers walked in. Rubbing sleep from her eyes she was suddenly terrified by their hulking presence. They advanced on her, calling her filthy names and making vile accusations that she had betrayed her step-parents and had conspired with others to have then murdered so she could become a wealthy lady in the process. They even accused her of attempting to kill them, her very step-brothers and sisters. Marcella protested, vehemently, desperately trying to convince them it was all not true, but this was the story they had concocted and were sticking to. And in the end it would condemn her. The brothers even brought their sisters to the cell who also agreed that Marcella had been involved in their parents’ deaths.
Marcella could not believe her ears. After all the love and affection she shown over the years to not only her step-brothers but, far more sincerely, to her step-sisters, it was a stab to her heart she could not bear. Marcella began crying. Huge tears ran down her face as she howled in terror, humiliation and betrayal as her brothers seized her and tore off her clothes, leaving her naked in front of them. They were beasts now, not true brothers in any sense. She could see they all had erections and knew what was about to happen. Her mind and stomach recoiled; she vomited, but this did not deter the savage assault that followed. Even her sisters helped hold her down as she was raped. Each brother took a turn violating her. Marcella saw through tear-clouded eyes that her sisters were masturbating as she was being raped. What sorts of monsters are these, she thought?
When they were done with her they left, locking her in the room for the rest of the evening. In the morning the door opened. Marcella was curled up into a fetal position, still sobbing. Strong arms pulled her to her feet. She dribbled urine and semen as they dragged her outside, to the front of the house she had grown up in, the house that only recently held such fond memories for her. In front of the steps that led up to the entrance she saw a cross assembled on the ground. She instantly knew it was meant for her. She shuddered and recoiled at the sight, digging in her heels as strange men dragged her toward it. Her so-called brothers and sisters were assembled. A small crowd was gathering too. Marcella realized she was about to be crucified! Why? I did nothing! I only loved my step-brothers and sisters with all my heart! Why were they doing this to me? Why?
End, part 1
The Betrayal
Marcella hangs nailed to her cross erected along the side of the street that passes in front of the stately house behind her. She is utterly naked and exposed to whoever passes by. The street is the Via Tusculana -- where the wealthy and upper-class live. Not the crass nouveau riche who live at the far other end of the Via Tusculana. At this end only the best people, of old money and rank live, in their opulent houses surrounded by lush gardens and tended by armies of servants and slaves. Well, Marcella thinks to herself, at least I’m being gazed at and harassed by the better citizens and not the rabble, although many a common tradesmen and slaves who serve the upper-class do pass by and gather to watch her writhe about in agony on her tall cross. She is a generously endowed and lovely young woman, barely twenty years old. Through the burning haze of her agony she still cannot believe this has happened to her. Yet, she saw it coming, for nearly three years now. But at the end it was so sudden, so unfair! Why? Why? She knew the answer: these were not the ”best people” at all. She grew up with them. She knew them and even loved them. But now she knows they are really beasts -- unscrupulous and unconscionable monsters. Not at all the people she thought they were.
Marcella was crucified in front of the house she had lived in her whole life. Well, not as a member of the wealthy family who occupied these walls. Of course not! She was not of the senatorial class of citizens, or even of the equestrian class; she was not even a full citizen per se. She was the daughter of a freedman and woman who had served the master and mistress of this house up until the time of their deaths almost seven years ago. Her parents first served the young master as slaves while he was on campaign in Gaul, serving as a Tribune of the legion. He was the scion of a noble family that had faithfully served Rome for many generations. His bravery in battle and impressive diplomatic skills earned him a sterling reputation. Upon return to Rome he married well and came to live in this huge, opulent house, his family's historical residence in the city. He was soon elected to the Senate -- which was nearly pro forma, there having been senators in his lineage for generations. He was, however, an able man of noble bearing and character, who deserved the title and honors that went with his station.
The senator had brought Marcella’s parents to Rome with him and, in reward for their loyal service to him, soon released them from their servitude. As free persons – though not quite full citizens -- they gratefully continued to serve him and his growing family of several sons and as many daughters. Three sons came first, the last born almost a year before Marcella’s birth. Marcella’s parents were not young when she was born. In fact, it was quite a surprise when her mother, Aleyda, became pregnant. It was seen as a good sign. Her father, Theoderid, suggested their new daughter be given a Roman name in honor of the senator and his beneficence toward them. Aleyda agreed and so the baby was named Marcella.
The senator’s three daughters were born next, the first soon after Marcella’s birth and the last two spaced about a year apart. Marcella grew up in the house among the children of the senator and his wife who thought of Marcella almost as one of their own. She played with the senator’s children and was accepted by them as both a younger sister to the boys and an older sister to the girls. She had free run of the house as a child and even as a young woman when she had specific duties and obligations to the family tend to.
Marcella’s life was idyllic, or nearly so. But then, in her thirteenth year, her mother died of a cancer that slowly gnawed on her until she was reduced to nearly skin and bones at the end. Her heartbroken, beloved father died barely a year later. He had broken his thigh in a fall. The senator spared no expense and he was given the best medical care possible. He was splinted and was resting comfortably when he started breathing heavily. He struggled with breathing for a minute or so then suddenly died. Marcella was with him by his bedside. The medicus gently explained to the distraught, sobbing girl that this often happens when a large bone, like the thigh, was broken. The senator, too, and his wife, consoled Marcella, assuring the budding young woman that she would always have a place in their hearts and home. After all, they both thought of her as a daughter and loved her as one of their own.
Marcella continued to grow up with the senator’s children. When younger, she often rough-housed with the boys, but as she matured she enjoyed quieter pastimes with the girls, with whom she formed deep, sisterly bonds of affection. As the “older sister” she helped shepherd them through their turbulent years of puberty as they grew into young womanhood together. Though never quite receiving the same return of affection as she gave, Marcella nonetheless felt protective of them and loved them as her true family.
But greatness of nobility and character does not always pass down the generations. The senator and his wife died suddenly, under suspicious circumstances. Marcella, then seventeen, was devastated. She loved the senator and his wife, whom she considered step-parents, almost as deeply as her own parents won. She mourned with her brothers and sisters and comforted them – especially the girls, as an older sister would. Her oldest brother, being of legal age, became master of the house. He soon married. His wife, though lovely and poised, was austere and distant, never giving Marcella more than a glance and ordering her about almost as a slave.
Her brothers, too, soon began distancing themselves from her. Always more emotionally remote, they were now brooding young men who had begun treating Marcella less than a sister and more as a servant, even to the point of becoming physically aggressive, grabbing at her as she passed, trying to “cop a feel” of her womanly breasts and firmly rounded ass as she tried to pretend she was not offended and humiliated. She protested, and they apologized, but it didn’t change their behavior for long. Marcella began avoiding them all the while praying their behavior would change as they matured.
Her sisters too, began emotionally distancing themselves from her. Marcella was certain it was because of the disrespectful behavior of her “brothers.” She loved her sisters but knew in her heart they were becoming as spoiled and thoughtless as her brothers who were developing into cruel and entitled young men. She also began to suspect her sisters disliked her for her appearance. Marcella never thought much on it when their relationship was good, but as she matured she knew it was true. Marcella never thought of herself as a beautiful woman, but she had blossomed into one. Her sisters, however, though cute enough as children, never grew into great beauties, despite the refined looks of their aristocratic parents and the rather dark, arrogant handsomeness of their brothers. Something was missing in their character, too, which seemed to manifest itself in their physical appearances and demeanor as upper-class young women.
While Marcella grew from a tomboy into a tall, beautiful, and full-figured young woman, her sisters turned out pale, listless, thin-lipped and somewhat plain. As the hormones of puberty and young womanhood flooded their bodies, they all seemed to be plucking dark hairs that appeared on upper lips, chins and defiantly tried to fill the spaces between already bushy eyebrows. The eldest sister even developed unfortunately hirsute nipples that did nothing to improve her overall sense of womanliness and attractiveness, such as it was. Though wishing desperately that it was not true, Marcella was well-aware of the growing gap between her and her step-sisters and brothers.
Matters came to a head nearly two years after the old master and mistress had died. There was talk of revolution in the air as the old order was being assaulted as being out of touch and corrupt. Suspicions were being raised about the death of the senator as he was widely recognized in his day as a reformer who has attracted many enemies. Suspicions even swarmed about that his eldest son had conspired to have him eliminated so as to preserve the entitlements of the rapidly distant and uncaring upper class. Marcella heard of these accusations and determined that it had become too dangerous to remain with her step-family any longer. Marcella didn’t want to think her oldest brother was involved in anything murderous, but it was clear to her that her oldest brother was not the man the senator had been. Rather, quite the opposite. He had aligned himself with the aristocracy that was determined to remain in power. His positions had slowly convinced his other siblings that their future lay with an entrenched, isolated, privileged social structure. Having none of their parents’ noble character they quickly fell into line. Almost overnight Marcella went from being a sister to the enemy; a member of the lower class that was to be subjugated and not lifted up. The chill in her relationship with her step-brothers and sisters was palpable; she had to flee.
They caught her as she tried to leave the city in a hired carriage. Hired thugs brought her back to the house she grew up in. She was locked into a cellar room, one that she knew from her childhood as a place where she and her sisters would hide away and play, and talk, and try to imagine themselves one day married and happy. Now this formerly happy room was a prison. She cried herself to sleep curled up on the floor, but was suddenly awakened by the sound of the heavy wooden door opening. Her brothers walked in. Rubbing sleep from her eyes she was suddenly terrified by their hulking presence. They advanced on her, calling her filthy names and making vile accusations that she had betrayed her step-parents and had conspired with others to have then murdered so she could become a wealthy lady in the process. They even accused her of attempting to kill them, her very step-brothers and sisters. Marcella protested, vehemently, desperately trying to convince them it was all not true, but this was the story they had concocted and were sticking to. And in the end it would condemn her. The brothers even brought their sisters to the cell who also agreed that Marcella had been involved in their parents’ deaths.
Marcella could not believe her ears. After all the love and affection she shown over the years to not only her step-brothers but, far more sincerely, to her step-sisters, it was a stab to her heart she could not bear. Marcella began crying. Huge tears ran down her face as she howled in terror, humiliation and betrayal as her brothers seized her and tore off her clothes, leaving her naked in front of them. They were beasts now, not true brothers in any sense. She could see they all had erections and knew what was about to happen. Her mind and stomach recoiled; she vomited, but this did not deter the savage assault that followed. Even her sisters helped hold her down as she was raped. Each brother took a turn violating her. Marcella saw through tear-clouded eyes that her sisters were masturbating as she was being raped. What sorts of monsters are these, she thought?
When they were done with her they left, locking her in the room for the rest of the evening. In the morning the door opened. Marcella was curled up into a fetal position, still sobbing. Strong arms pulled her to her feet. She dribbled urine and semen as they dragged her outside, to the front of the house she had grown up in, the house that only recently held such fond memories for her. In front of the steps that led up to the entrance she saw a cross assembled on the ground. She instantly knew it was meant for her. She shuddered and recoiled at the sight, digging in her heels as strange men dragged her toward it. Her so-called brothers and sisters were assembled. A small crowd was gathering too. Marcella realized she was about to be crucified! Why? I did nothing! I only loved my step-brothers and sisters with all my heart! Why were they doing this to me? Why?
End, part 1
) of evil schemers, everything that puts a smile on my face! 
