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Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
“Please. Not here. In a private place.”

Victor and his men laughed at her modesty. “At my club, you dance naked before fifty men. Amerikanets, Britanskiy, even Avstraliyskiy, foreigners with good money. They come to see girls get naked and dance like sex, like fucking. If you still be wanting to make offer, you undress now, slow, and dance sexy.”

Lena stood, with a deer-in-the-headlights look. She was trapped. She loved Dimitry so much. She couldn’t let him die.

One of the men pulled up some music on his phone, Slow sexy music with an insistent beat. Lena began to sway her hips and run her hands over her body. She reached up and slipped the thin straps of her top off her shoulders and down below her black. Then she raised the wais so that the stretch top was just a band around her midriff. Her full, black bra barely contained the overflowing mass of her breasts.

Lena danced in place, turning slowly around to give a view of her entire body. When she turned back to the men, she had pulled her left tit out of her bra cup. The large, dark areola was exposed as well as the firm nipple at the center.

The music became more insistent and Lena, in turn, swayed more erotically. She undid the buckle and faster of her pants and lowered them down her ample thighs.
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Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
Things were heating up by now, and the men were clapping in time with the music to encourage the display. At Victor’s direction, Lena removed her bra to show her amply tits and then teased with her panties. Lena’s full and firm body was hypnotizing.
When she stood naked before the men, panting with exertion and shame. Victor spoke up.

“Good job, bitch! You might be worth as a girl at my club. You will need some training,” at that, the others laughed. “but you have a fine body, and you will learn to move better. Get dressed.” Lena hurried to put her clothes on.

“You give blow-jobs?” asked Victor.
“Oh no. Only with my husband!”
“You will learn with everyone."
He turned to Dimitry, still groggy on the sofa. "Dimitry. I not kill you tomorrow. I give you one week to get money. But I want ₽600,000 then. Meanwhile, if your wife works hard at my club, maybe I give more time.”
Victor turned to the almost dressed Lena. “You hear, bitch? You do what I say, and your husband may live. If you don’t, he wear concrete shoes.”
“Yes, Sir,” she meekly replied.

“Let’s go. You two take Lena in front. I like to watch her big ass.” As two of the thugs hustled Lena out of the sitting room, another sucker-punched Dimitry to keep him quiet.
Just outside the door, one man turned to Victor. “You not tell her club is S&M?”

“She’ll learn soon enough,” laughed Victor. "I think make good fat slave!"

THE END (at least for now)

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KurvyKate

Magistrate
Mr. Graypants

[L] Mr. Graypants gives a short order, and jerks on the chain to move me. It seems strange to me at first; Master always uses a calm, almost respectful voice with me and never jerks - he knows I will follow instantly.

I bend forward to the ‘used’ position, my forehead on the ground my knees widespread. Looking between my legs, I see Graypants, kneel between my legs. Will he fuck me fuck? Pleasure before pain? I feel dampness as my body prepares to welcome his member. It seems wrong, somehow. These days Master never uses me sexually before at some discipline.
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[D] I watch Graypants approach Lucy from behind on his knees. He is holding a surprise for her. I wonder how my girl will react?

[L] I feel the rounded head press at my anus. “Relax, open,” the simple, abrupt command; I obey. I feel the pressure. It is not a cock. It is a dildo, a large one. Much larger than the buttplugs that Master uses. I try as I can to accommodate it. It is lubricated and slides in with little friction, though a deal of pain at the stretching. I hold my voice, but a groan escapes my lips when it penetrates so deep! It stops. I am proud; I’ve taken it all.

A wooshing sound. The dildo enlarges slightly. It inflatable! Graypants pumps the bulb again, and I give a little whimper. Oh, my God! I catch a smell. Not in the room but far back from my memories. In the bathroom of my childhood home. Yes, when my parents gave their little girl her first enema!

Graypants inflated the dildo until just before I think it will tear me open. Then he just leaves it. I am jerked back on my haunches by the lease. The action drives the massive dildo deeper and at a new angle. I try, but only partially suppress the groan.

“She took that well, Dom,” said Graypants.

[Gray] Dominic has a fine slave here. She is young and in good shape, though no porn star. But she responds exceptionally well to commands. Either Dom is a good trainer, or she’s a good learner, or both!

Mr. Highpants

[L]
Graypants hands my leash to the next man. Middle-aged, short, balding, wearing a brown suit with the pants almost to his chest. I name him Highpants. He has an innocent, gentle smile. Combined with his wimpy looks, I fear him. He has me sit back up on my haunches; my breasts are sticking out. He is holding two metal clamps attached to a chain. “Let’s see those prominent nipples,” he says in a gentle, almost sweet voice.

[D] Nipple torture. That is Lucy’s favorite, I think. However, she won’t admit it to me. High might test her more than I do. I cannot resist leaning forward. This is very exciting!

[L] The clamps are not the usual nipple clamps. They look like scientific equipment with thumbscrews. He puts one over my right nipple and slowly turned the nob. The two flat bars move closer around my nipple; they are snug now – the touch excites me, and the nipple swells. He keeps tightening; the screw is powerful – the bars are squeezing my nipple now – the snugness changed to hurt – the end bulging beyond the captured part. He is crushing it now; it feels like the bars will cut the poor nub off – I grind my teeth and feel sweat pour from my skin. At last, he stops and flicks the end of the nipple with a sharp snap of his finger – sending agony through my breast.
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“Now the other,” in the same gentle voice as if offering a child a chocolate. When he finishes, my nipples are on fire. He put the chain in my mouth. “Don’t drop it,” he says, petting my head like a favorite pet. “Or I’ll rip it off.” That same sweet smile – arrrgghhhh!

Nipple torture is always the best and the worst for me. My nipples are so sensitive that I feel the pain intensely, and it seems to drill into my chest. I would not be able to bear the pain if it weren’t for the fact that it excites me like no other torture. My breasts and cunt aways seem to be on fire when it happens.
The picture of the lady on her knees is in fact Odastein's girlfriend. He fell foul of the DA purge I'm afraid but before he did we enjoyed a long conversation about our kinks and bringing them to life. She sounds lovely!
 

Jon Smithie

Governor
My Date with Barb (Part II)

Duccio quietly appeared carrying a large plate of Antipasto. Placing it in the middle of the table between us, he announced, “the Antipasto Misto.” He gave us red-fired plates and cold silver to serve ourselves.

The main plate was a cornucopia of appetizing treats - imported Cheeses, Prosciutto di Parma, - Salame Rustico - Sweet Coppa - Mortadella con Pistachio - Olives – Giardiniera. We eagerly dug in.

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"How do I chose," asked Barb, surveying the marvelous variety of savory food before her.

"That's the beauty of an antipasto. You don't. Just take a little of everything, until you hit your favorites and then seconds and thirds of those. Don't worry. I won't watch," I said with a wink.

Taking my advice, she loaded her plate with a little of each and began sampling. The oos and ahhs she emitted showed that most items met with her approval.

After having tasted most, Barb looked at me with a shy smile. "What if they all are my favorite?"

"Then," I said, raising my glass, merely send your compliments to the chef!" We both laughed and drained our glasses. I moved debonairly to refill both.

Then Duccio appeared, as if out of nowhere, with two servers in tow. They carried large Maiolicas, high-fired, dipped in white glaze, hand-painted Italian pottery plates. The servers set these before us with seafood and rice molded in the center into a mini-mountain.

“Is all satisfactory, Signore?”

Bene, Duccio. Bene.”

Barb raised her fork but hesitated. She wanted to allow me to continue my lead. “And what is this you have commanded for us now?” she asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

“It is Risotto Maré e Monti. That means rice from the mountains and the sea. Wild picked mushrooms represent the mountains in the risotto, and the sea by the red Argentinean Shrimp and Mediterranean Calamari. It is a dish from Friuli-Venezia Giulia, the Northern Italian region that includes Trieste on the Adriatic and the sharp-peaked Dolomite Mountains on the border with Austria. Thus the mountains and the sea dominate the region.”
Barb stared at me for a moment. In a dumb blonde accent, she said, “Oww, PrPrrey! You have such a head for knowing!”
My smile faded in a moment. I had tried too hard to show off.
Barbara saw my distress and quickly flashed her sweet smile. “Don’t worry, PrPr. I’m only kidding. Seriously you do know an incredible amount of things.”
“Well, I can’t spend all my time online watching porn. I need to take some breaks.” We both laughed at that. Barb took another sip of the Riesling and plunged her fork into the seafood mountain.

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I took the first taste of mine and wasn’t disappointed. The rich, creamy risotto had flowery spices complimented by the tangy taste of the wild mountain mushrooms. The Argentinean shrimp were tender and succulent, and the calamari cooked just right. The deep groan of appreciation from Barb told me she had the same level of enjoyment.
We took our time, not rushing the marvelous meal. At about this time, Barb began to run her foot (apparently she’d slipped her shoe off) occasionally up and down my leg. The sensual stimulation added to the already delicious tastes and smells!
The moderare portion just enough to satisfy without triggering so much satiation as to dull the enjoyment of what was to come. Again we found time to chat between bites and to use the wine to cleanse our palates. The conversation was fascinating. Barb’s knowledge of Medieval European History pricked my interests and left many openings for historical double entendres.

Sadly, the time came when both lovely dinner plates were empty. Duccio appeared and cleared the places while asking, “Was it satisfactory, Signore e signorina?”
Barbara jumped in with a response before I could. “Duccio. That was the most delicious thing I have ever tasted. Please express i miei ringraziamenti to il cuoco.”
“Barb, You speak Italian? Now I’m embarrassed.”
Un po. You have to pick up some to study European History.”
“You are a marvel.”

“So what is next on your plan, Sir?” asked Barb with a light sarcastic tone to the last word.
“Dessert!” I answered triumphantly as the two servers arrived with our last course. “Traditional Vanilla Bean Crèam Brûlée.”
We both looked with lust at the hardened caramelized sugar topping a decadent, creamy custard dessert. Garnishing the top of each was a single vanilla bean and a tiny mint leaf.
Before we could crack the crusts, Duccio came forward with two steaming cups of coffee.
“Our Black Gold,” he announced. “The finest coffee with Frangelico, Bailey's Irish Cream, Whipped Cream & Shaved Chocolate.
After finishing the Crèam Brûlée (we each managed to resist the temptation to lick the bowls clean!), we lingered over the heavily liquored coffee. I had reached out and taken her hand gently in mine and was rubbing my thumb tenderly against the soft, sensitive back. We said only a little. The moment seemed more for quiet reflection of the delightful tastes and smells of the fabulous dinner. I knew that my credit card would have a fit in the morning, but I didn’t care.
At least, I spoke, “Well. I suppose its time to move on.” I gestured to Duccio, and he was tableside in a moment. “Angelo knows how to handle the bill. I wish to express my deep gratitude for the outstanding and thoughtful service that you and your team have rendered.”
“As would I,” added Barb. “It has been the best restaurant experience of my life!”
Signore e Signorina, you are too kind. It has been our pleasure to serve such a lovely and knowledgeable sposi, a couple! May I tell the valet to bring your car?”
“Thank you. Yes.” I stood and hastened to help Barb from her chair. Holding hands, we walked to the door.

The End?

Is there really any experience better than sipping an aromatic wine, savoring the smells, tastes, and textures of outstanding food, all while gazing, across the table, at a beautiful, charming, and intelligent woman?

Thank you, Barbara, for an evening that I will always treasure!
A thoroughly enjoyable treat, combining two of my favorite ingredients: eroticism and food. My compliments to the chef!
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
A new, multi-part, but short, story.

Praetorian
Praetorian Tribune, Marcus Lycus, was an ambitious man. Rising through the military from a poor Plebean background, he attached himself to Quintus Naevius Cordus Sutorius Macro, Praefectus Vigilum, prefect of the Vigiles, the Roman fire brigade, and night watch. They served as the civilian police force in Rome, independent of the Praetorian Guard under the command of the Emperor.
In CE 31, Macro helped engineer the fall from power and execution of Lucius Aelius Sejanus, who had been Praetorian Prefect for sixteen years. Emperor Tiberius rewarded him with the Praetorian prefecture, and Marcus, Macro’s right-hand man, was named a Tribune of the Praetorians.

After Sejanus’s alleged plot against the Emperor, Tiberius became increasingly paranoid and used the Guard to hunt down suspected traitors. Macro, busy with administrative matters and catering to the whims of the aging, dissolute ruler, delegated the actual persecution to Marcus.

So, it came to pass that seventeen days before the Kalends of December, DCCLXXXVIII A.U.C. (November 13, 35 CE) Marcus had sent a squad to arrest Senator Julius Aemilius on suspicion of treason. Julius was a member of an old and proud senatorial family descended from the great general, Lucius Aemilius Paullus Macedonicus, who conquered Macedon for Rome in 168 BCE. Even further back, the Aemilians claimed descent from the second King of Rome.
Julius Aemilius was just another patrician who made an easy target for the professional delatores that Marcus employed. It didn’t matter much whether he was guilty of plotting against Tiberius or not. The fact that Julius came from a proud lineage was enough to suspect him as a plotter. He was just one more name that could be reported to the isolated and frightened ruler. Everyone arrested and executed was a source of praise and income for Macro and Lycus. Macro kept 5% and Lycus 2% of any traitors wealth – the rest went to Tiberius’s coffers.

No, it wasn’t Julius who makes this story interesting. It was his young wife, Flavia, whose golden hair justified her name. Petite and shapely, Flavia had married Julius when she was fifteen, and he was twenty-five. Now, ten years later, she was a comely and desirable woman at the peak of her charms. Lycus, who enjoyed power over women, instructed his men to arrest the wife as well.
 
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Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member

Fossy

Tribune
A new, multi-part, but short, story.

Praetorian
Praetorian Tribune, Marcus Lycus, was an ambitious man. Rising through the military from a poor Plebean background, he attached himself to Quintus Naevius Cordus Sutorius Macro, Praefectus Vigilum, prefect of the Vigiles, the Roman fire brigade, and night watch. They served as the civilian police force in Rome, independent of the Praetorian Guard under the command of the Emperor.
In CE 31, Macro helped engineer the fall from power and execution of Lucius Aelius Sejanus, who had been Praetorian Prefect for sixteen years. Emperor Tiberius rewarded him with the Praetorian prefecture, and Marcus, Macro’s right-hand man, was named a Tribune of the Praetorians.

After Sejanus’s alleged plot against the Emperor, Tiberius became increasingly paranoid and used the Guard to hunt down suspected traitors. Macro, busy with administrative matters and catering to the whims of the aging, dissolute ruler, delegated the actual persecution to Marcus.

So, it came to pass that seventeen days before the Kalends of December, DCCLXXXVIII A.U.C. (November 13, 35 CE) Marcus had sent a squad to arrest Senator Julius Aemilius on suspicion of treason. Julius was a member of an old and proud senatorial family descended from the great general, Lucius Aemilius Paullus Macedonicus, who conquered Macedon for Rome in 168 BCE. Even further back, the Aemilians claimed descent from the second King of Rome.
Julius Aemilius was just another patrician who made an easy target for the professional informers that Marcus employed. It didn’t matter much whether he was guilty of plotting against Tiberius or not. The fact that Julius came from a proud lineage was enough to suspect him as a plotter. He was just one more name that could be reported to the isolated and frightened ruler. Everyone arrested and executed was a source of praise and income for Macro and Lycus. Macro kept 5% and Lycus 2% of any traitors wealth – the rest went to Tiberius’s coffers.

No, it wasn’t Julius who makes this story interesting. It was his young wife, Flavia, whose golden hair justified her name. Petite and shapely, Flavia had married Julius when she was fifteen, and he was twenty-five. Now, ten years later, she was a comely and desirable woman at the peak of her charms. Lycus, who enjoyed power over women, instructed his men to arrest the wife as well.
We know where this is heading, or do we? I certainly hope so ... ;)
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
A new, multi-part, but short, story.

Praetorian
Praetorian Tribune, Marcus Lycus, was an ambitious man. Rising through the military from a poor Plebean background, he attached himself to Quintus Naevius Cordus Sutorius Macro, Praefectus Vigilum, prefect of the Vigiles, the Roman fire brigade, and night watch. They served as the civilian police force in Rome, independent of the Praetorian Guard under the command of the Emperor.
In CE 31, Macro helped engineer the fall from power and execution of Lucius Aelius Sejanus, who had been Praetorian Prefect for sixteen years. Emperor Tiberius rewarded him with the Praetorian prefecture, and Marcus, Macro’s right-hand man, was named a Tribune of the Praetorians.

After Sejanus’s alleged plot against the Emperor, Tiberius became increasingly paranoid and used the Guard to hunt down suspected traitors. Macro, busy with administrative matters and catering to the whims of the aging, dissolute ruler, delegated the actual persecution to Marcus.

So, it came to pass that seventeen days before the Kalends of December, DCCLXXXVIII A.U.C. (November 13, 35 CE) Marcus had sent a squad to arrest Senator Julius Aemilius on suspicion of treason. Julius was a member of an old and proud senatorial family descended from the great general, Lucius Aemilius Paullus Macedonicus, who conquered Macedon for Rome in 168 BCE. Even further back, the Aemilians claimed descent from the second King of Rome.
Julius Aemilius was just another patrician who made an easy target for the professional informers that Marcus employed. It didn’t matter much whether he was guilty of plotting against Tiberius or not. The fact that Julius came from a proud lineage was enough to suspect him as a plotter. He was just one more name that could be reported to the isolated and frightened ruler. Everyone arrested and executed was a source of praise and income for Macro and Lycus. Macro kept 5% and Lycus 2% of any traitors wealth – the rest went to Tiberius’s coffers.

No, it wasn’t Julius who makes this story interesting. It was his young wife, Flavia, whose golden hair justified her name. Petite and shapely, Flavia had married Julius when she was fifteen, and he was twenty-five. Now, ten years later, she was a comely and desirable woman at the peak of her charms. Lycus, who enjoyed power over women, instructed his men to arrest the wife as well.
Questioning

Lycus entered the interrogation room. Julius and Flavia sat on a bench under the windows with their hands tied behind. Two praetorians sat behind the desk opposite asking questions. When Marcus entered, they stood and gave the heart to hand salute. Returning the gesture, he told them to be seated and continue.
A few minutes of listening brought the Tribune up to speed on the situation. Julius arrogantly denied all of the accusations and showed an aristocratic disdain for these common, ‘policemen.’ Flavia sat quietly, appearing very scared. Marcus decided it was time to move the process along.

“Julius, we know, from reliable sources, that you have been plotting against the Divine Caesar. It is likely the silly pride of the Aemilii, looking backward to Roman Kings, that mislead you. Please, confess what you have done, and I can try, at least, to soften the vengeance of mighty Tiberius.”
“Reliable sources?’ scoffed Julius. Gutter scum who would fuck their mother for two asses to save paying a whore the going rate of six! From what I’ve heard of your background, Lycus, you should understand that very well. Besides, I have rights as a Roman citizen of the Senatorial class. I demand you release me!”

Marcus reacted not at all to the insult. He was well used to the arrogance of Patricians. They had the ‘names,’ but Lycus had the power. He gestured to the guards. One slipped on the leather and lead boxing gloves used in the arena for that blood sport. Then they stood, rounded the desk, and pulled Julius to his feet. One punched him in the face with a brutal blow. Flavia screamed, and Julius dripped blood from his cut lip.

“You may have a Patrician name, Julius, but in this place, you are just a traitor with no rights.”
“My God, Julius!” cried Flavia, seeing his blood flow.
“A Roman Senator does not yield to low-bred shit like you. The Republic is surely over if a common policeman can threaten someone like me,” sneered Julius.
“Guards. Show the man what a Roman Senator counts for in this place.”
 

Fossy

Tribune
Questioning

Lycus entered the interrogation room. Julius and Flavia sat on a bench under the windows with their hands tied behind. Two praetorians sat behind the desk opposite asking questions. When Marcus entered, they stood and gave the heart to hand salute. Returning the gesture, he told them to be seated and continue.
A few minutes of listening brought the Tribune up to speed on the situation. Julius arrogantly denied all of the accusations and showed an aristocratic disdain for these common, ‘policemen.’ Flavia sat quietly, appearing very scared. Marcus decided it was time to move the process along.

“Julius, we know, from reliable sources, that you have been plotting against the Divine Caesar. It is likely the silly pride of the Aemilii, looking backward to Roman Kings, that mislead you. Please, confess what you have done, and I can try, at least, to soften the vengeance of mighty Tiberius.”
“Reliable sources?’ scoffed Julius. Gutter scum who would fuck their mother for two asses to save paying a whore the going rate of six! From what I’ve heard of your background, Lycus, you should understand that very well. Besides, I have rights as a Roman citizen of the Senatorial class. I demand you release me!”

Marcus reacted not at all to the insult. He was well used to the arrogance of Patricians. They had the ‘names,’ but Lycus had the power. He gestured to the guards. One slipped on the leather and lead boxing gloves used in the arena for that blood sport. Then they stood, rounded the desk, and pulled Julius to his feet. One punched him in the face with a brutal blow. Flavia screamed, and Julius dripped blood from his cut lip.

“You may have a Patrician name, Julius, but in this place, you are just a traitor with no rights.”
“My God, Julius!” cried Flavia, seeing his blood flow.
“A Roman Senator does not yield to low-bred shit like you. The Republic is surely over if a common policeman can threaten someone like me,” sneered Julius.
“Guards. Show the man what a Roman Senator counts for in this place.”
"Gutter scum who would fuck their mother for two asses to save paying a whore the going rate of six! " - one of the best lines I have read in ages :)
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
Marcus Lycus - hint, his father was reputed to run a whorehouse. His enemies whispered that his mother was one of his father's slaves, working as a whore.

Confession

While the two guards worked over Julius, Marcus sat and read over the pre-prepared confession. It was well done, he thought. It contained the usual phrases and admissions, spiced with just enough specific details about Aemilius to make it sound authentic.

He watched Flavia as her husband was beaten to a pulp. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she sobbed at the pain for her loved one and fear for herself. Yes, she would prove an enjoyable next act, Marcus thought, trying to visualize her figure under her matronly stola.

After seven minutes, Julius’s face resembled ground meat, and the guards had broken several ribs. When Marcus had them pause and asked for a confession, all the old arrogance was gone as Aemilius begged for mercy like a little girl. The men lifted him to the desk and released his arm so he could sign the confession. The few drops of blood that fell on it merely added to the authenticity, Lycus thought.

They threw Julius back on the bench beside his horrified wife, and Marcus pronounced his sentence.

“Mamercus Julius Aemilius. You are found guilty of the sacrilege of laesa maiestas against Divine Caesar. In accord with the lex Iulia maiestatis, I sentence you as follows: first, civil disability – all honors and privileges of a Roman Citizen are revoked; second, the confiscation of all property held by you or any family members to the second consanguinity – such property shall be remitted to the Imperial Treasury; third, the forfeit your life - you shall be beheaded before this day is out. Guards, deliver him to the jailor outside.”

After dragging the whining hulk outside, the two guards returned and sat on each side of Flavia. The poor woman sat huddled and alone, scared out of her wits.
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
Things don't look good for Flavia

Wife?

“Free her arms.” Flavia rubbed her chaffed wrists while looking fearfully at Marcus.
“Stand up over here. Guards, beside her.” They did as instructed.
“Take off your clothes.”
“What? You’re not serious.” Despite her fear, Flavia’s inbred modesty resisted the command.

Marcus gave a sign to the guard to her right. He wheeled around and drove his fist into her abdomen. Flavia doubled over in pain, coughing and gasping. Lycus just sat and waited. The slower the destruction of a lovely lady like Flavia, the better. He liked hurting. But it was the shame, the humiliation, the bending to his will that excited him.
Flavia finally stood upright, holding her belly with both hands; her eyes bulging with fear.
“Take off your clothes, bitch,” Marcus’s voice was soft and gentle.
Flavia unhooked the sash at her shoulder and slipped the stola off, leaving only her loin wrap to cover a part of her body. Marcus and the guards admired her bare breasts. Large, but still with youthful firmness to avoid much sag, her areolas were large and pale, capped by thick, elongated pink nipples. She tried to use one arm to cover her breasts as she unwrapped the cloth from her middle.
“Arms at your sides,” barked the guard. Flavia obeyed, exposing herself to their leering gazes. Her tummy was thin though slightly rounded, curving down toward her pussy, whose hair matched that on her head. Flavia was an astoundingly sexy woman for her age.

"I do not need you to sign a confession like your former husband did,” said Marcus, after taking his time admiring the helpless young woman before him. "Your unlawful and adulterous relationship with him makes you equally guilty of any crimes he committed."
“Unlawful? Adulterous? What do you mean? We were married in a proper ceremony before a magistrate ten years ago.”
“He a patrician, and you a Plebian?”
“Yes, everyone knows the lex Canuleia allows such marriages.”
“True. However, you just heard me strip Julius of all his civil rights and privileges. That deprival is effective back to his birth. Any contracts he has even entered are void, as if they had never happened. And that includes your marriage. In the eyes of the law, as of fifteen minutes ago, you have never been married, and you are an adulterous whore.”
 

Jon Smithie

Governor
“Yes, everyone knows the lex Canuleia allows such marriages.”
“True. However, you just heard me strip Julius of all his civil rights and privileges. That deprival is effective back to his birth. Any contracts he has even entered are void, as if they had never happened. And that includes your marriage. In the eyes of the law, as of fifteen minutes ago, you have never been married, and you are an adulterous whore.”
I love the historical detail in your stories, PrPr, and not just history of course, but fashion, food, travel, etc., but that little point of law that Lycus brings to bear is just precious. I suspect that Flavia has grounds to object, though. She needs to talk to a lawyer right away!
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
Slavery

“Please, Sir,” asked Flavia humbly to avoid another blow. “It doesn’t seem fair to call me a whore when we were married properly.”
“Not Fair? Do you question the wisdom of our sacred law-givers, whore? The Divine Augustus enacted the Lex Julia de maritandis ordinibus, uplifting the sacred institution of marriage, and restricting the privileges for a true wife to those meeting the law’s demands. And then the Lex Iulia de Adulteriis Coercendis, to deal with whores who defiled the institution. It specifies that any non-patrician woman who lives as a wife with a patrician for a year, even though technically an adulterous whore, shall be stripped of her citizenship and reduced to a slave of that man. Therefore, sweet, innocent, adulterous Flavia, you have been Julius’s slave whore since one year into your fake marriage.”

“Dear Gods, no!” cried the woman, bringing her fist to her mouth in shock and despair. “A slave? No! It cannot be! What of our children?”
“Ah yes,” said Marcus, glancing at a paper before him. “You have given birth to three bastards while you served as Julius’s slave. Naturally, they are also slaves. Let’s see. Twin girls - they should fetch a pretty price as a matching pair of ladies’ maids or whatever. And a boy - he won’t draw much at his age. I might buy him myself. I can put him to work in my stables until he is old enough to sell as an oarsman in the galleys.”
“No! Gods, NO!” screamed Flavia. “Not my children too!” At Marcus’ nod, the guard silenced her with another hard punch to the belly.

Again Marcus waited patiently as the beaten women retched and gasped in pain. At last, he told the guards to stand her upright.
“You need to worry about yourself here, Flavia. I hold all of Julius’s property, and that includes you and your children, as slaves, in my hand, to do with as I choose. Please show me why I should show any mercy to you or your brood of bastards.” Lycus opened his toga and exposed a large, hard, erection. “Did your master teach you how to use your whore’s mouth to service a man?”
 

Fossy

Tribune
Slavery

“Please, Sir,” asked Flavia humbly to avoid another blow. “It doesn’t seem fair to call me a whore when we were married properly.”
“Not Fair? Do you question the wisdom of our sacred law-givers, whore? The Divine Augustus enacted the Lex Julia de maritandis ordinibus, uplifting the sacred institution of marriage, and restricting the privileges for a true wife to those meeting the law’s demands. And then the Lex Iulia de Adulteriis Coercendis, to deal with whores who defiled the institution. It specifies that any non-patrician woman who lives as a wife with a patrician for a year, even though technically an adulterous whore, shall be stripped of her citizenship and reduced to a slave of that man. Therefore, sweet, innocent, adulterous Flavia, you have been Julius’s slave whore since one year into your fake marriage.”

“Dear Gods, no!” cried the woman, bringing her fist to her mouth in shock and despair. “A slave? No! It cannot be! What of our children?”
“Ah yes,” said Marcus, glancing at a paper before him. “You have given birth to three bastards while you served as Julius’s slave. Naturally, they are also slaves. Let’s see. Twin girls - they should fetch a pretty price as a matching pair of ladies’ maids or whatever. And a boy - he won’t draw much at his age. I might buy him myself. I can put him to work in my stables until he is old enough to sell as an oarsman in the galleys.”
“No! Gods, NO!” screamed Flavia. “Not my children too!” At Marcus’ nod, the guard silenced her with another hard punch to the belly.

Again Marcus waited patiently as the beaten women retched and gasped in pain. At last, he told the guards to stand her upright.
“You need to worry about yourself here, Flavia. I hold all of Julius’s property, and that includes you and your children, as slaves, in my hand, to do with as I choose. Please show me why I should show any mercy to you or your brood of bastards.” Lycus opened his toga and exposed a large, hard, erection. “Did your master teach you how to use your whore’s mouth to service a man?”
The apparently unjust conspiracy deepens ...
 

Jon Smithie

Governor
Lex Julia de maritandis ordinibus

Lex Iulia de Adulteriis Coercendis,
I'm loving the brilliant legal mind of Marcus Lycus. Had he been born in the U.S. a couple thousand years later, he'd make a great Supreme Court Justice! But where do you find these Roman legal technicalities PrPr? You must have to wear an exosuit when you google, because you sure go deep, lol.
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
Lex Iulia de Adulteriis Coercendis,
made adultery (adulteriis) or extra-marital sex of a noble or respectable woman immoral and illegal. The law, in essence, made adultery a crime that was punishable by the legal system. Prior to the passing of this law, these offences were dealt with by the family. Normally the father of the woman or husband would punish the immoral act in any way that they saw fit.

Classics scholars and students are familiar with this law as it came back to bite Augustus in the arse. His own daughter, Julia, was notoriously unfaithful to her husband, the future Emperor, Tiberius. Presented with the evidence, Augustus was forced by his own law to divorce her from Tiberius, disown Julia, and banish her to Pandateria.

Even if you are not a classics student, read the book or watch the series "I, Claudius" to get all the dirt!
 
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