CRVCIFIXION
Rape, and various tortures she could probably endure. Sethra was less sure,
however, of death on the cross.
"You do seem far less intimidating strung between that colonnade as you are."
The leader of what remained of local opposition to imperial forces glared back
at her nemesis, M. (for Manius) Hostilus Trenus. The self-appointed ruler of
Cosa, and all around, pompously planted himself in his sedan chair some six feet
before where she was held.
A tactical move forced her retinue of resistance forces into a valley swamp. An
ambush awaited. Those that survived were taken prisoner; the females to the
brothels, males to work as forced labor.
Sethra twisted her spread limbs. Above the sky was nearly cloudless. Glaring sun
flooded the tabernae, or booths filling the main intersection of the city.
Everywhere there seemed farmers. money-lenders, fish-mongers, butchers,
merchants of every description all hawking their wares. Sore wrists and ankles
held.
Youth tusseled atop the booths. Already figures were jockeying for the best view
as they scurried atop the merchants' huts for a closer look at the defiant
female leader, now captured and chained to the columns.
Trenus adjusted his tunic for a more comfortable position in the chair. It had
been a welcome relief to rid himself of the battlefield dress. He crossed a bare
leg and considered the beauty before him. "Let us see more of her. Remove her
armor. Start with those leggings that I suppose pass for greaves."
Sethra refused to look down. She could feel fingers tugging and loosening the
leather straps helping to wrap sheaths around her shins. Someone else lifted off
her brown helmet. Waves of ash-blonde hair fell out and over her shoulders.
Hazel eyes flashed anger at the timid approach of a legionnaire. He ignored her
glance. The dull finish of her breast-plate lifted away as his bare arms worked
loose the fittings.
Under the shade provided by the slave holding a large fan over his bare head,
Trenus' face broke into a thin smile. He greatly approved of the young adversary
now splayed before him, and helpless at his mercy.
Sethra wore the tunica beneath her armor for protection against bruising. Now
that she was left only with it, it felt too revealing. The presence of her
sisters would not help. Many of them were dressed from neck to ankle. Those that
wore only tunics were slaves. Much of the bustling commerce of the marketplace
ceased and many strange eyes turned to her.
Trenus lifted a hand. Ruby set in gold flashed as he waved his index finger. He
pointed to a line numbering under ten of his own men. Golden dye colored
horse-hair plumes from crested helmets.
"You, Claudius, may be first."
Sethra clenched her teeth. Fingers balled into fists. She closed her eyes. What
she had expected was now to begin.
Shouts of encouragement for the soldier and jeers for the enemy banged the
emporium. Many knew rumors of heroic virility were partly fostered by the
soldiers, but the tales entertained. Clauius, they had heard was one of the best
endowed.
Wool ripped apart as he attacked. Petite female breasts popped out from a
muscled torso as the tunic was torn.
Sethra tilted her head back and felt the sun on her face. Her eyelids parted.
From behind the cheek-pieces and crest of the bronze helmet shaking close to her
own face dark eyes glinted back. A rough hand pawed her tender breast with its
small ring of pink and tall nipple. She felt the rest of her tunic ripped away.
A huge male organ bobbed below. It rammed into her. Sethra gasped, then shut her
mouth. Her eyes widened as the gross member stabbed into her dryness. She
grimaced and tried not to cry out as it plunged deeper. Her feet seemed to lift
off of the ground with each thrust. Metal from the helmet scraped into her face.
Animal-like grunts met each thrust.
Trenus relaxed in his chair and enjoyed the rape. Idly he scanned the rooftops
of the booths. Freemen on them wildly gestured and cheered on Claudius. He
patted his glossy black locks and returned to watch the action between his man
and the enemy leader.
Claudius expended himself and pulled out. Semen flowed out from between her
legs. Flecks of crimson streaked the off white juice.
Trenus waved his hand once more, and spoke to the remaining five. "Let's go.
Who's next?"
Sethra was unchained. A wide metal collar remained around her neck and she was
led by iron links to kneel over a low bench. Spectators eagerly jumped down from
vantage points fought over on booth rooftops to get in line behind the kneeling
nude.
The scream issued combined pain and anger as she was sodomized. Attempting
relief, Sethra hugged the bench. A blurred procession just beyond shuffled past
tear-filled eyes. Breasts and ribs slid over the rough bench as more pounded
into her.
The chain-gang was what remained of her men. All looked beaten. All were nude.
To Sethra's disgust, she saw that some of the men were partially aroused as they
watched their leader being raped.
"Time for that extra-special morale boost for the troops, Sethra." Trenus toed
the fallen chin. A hair full of head rose until he saw the sweat and
tear-streaked face. He nodded to a centurion. "Take her over to her men."
"No! Never!" Sethra cried out as she was placed before the young archer Threthr.
He was always one of the first to volunteer. Now his manhood dangled partially
erect before her forehead.
"You may have a change of heart," Trenus said, enjoying this new diversion.
He nodded, and as he did, the centurion shoved his gladius, or short sword,
through the man's neck. Rich blood spurted as the soldier fell in a heap.
The audience cheered, but Trenus silenced them and spoke to Sethra who knelt
over the fallen archer. "There are five of your people remaining." His tone
filled with whining frustration. "We all know how women of your clan behave,
rather wantoningly I should say," Trenus paused to bask in the laughter of those
around. "So spare us further delay. Save your men further tribulations and
service them. Spray your face, as well. I hear it's good for the complexion."
Sethra wiped tears from her face and moved to the next captive. Looking up, she
saw a stout figure she didn't recognize.
"That's better," he said and waved to the laughing crowd. Marciana, a mistress
had joined him. He sat her on his lap. The two of them watched the kneeling
leader finish her shaming task.
Eyes remained closed, but they could not shut the visions, or the sounds of
gales of spiteful laughter. She gasped on hands and knees. Hair hung like darken
cave walls around her semen-coated face, but it offered little shelter. Memories
were bile.
Trenus whispered in Marcianna's cute little ear that he wanted the bitch chained
for the night to their bedstead, just like a pet, but his mistress protested
that the female was too "icky". The corrupt provincial "governor" compromised.
Lifting Marcianna off his lap and standing, he ordered that slaves take Sethra
for a cleaning before being chained in his chambers.
Pumice stone removed all body hair. Water in the public bath dripped as one
female slave braided Sethra's blonde hair. Another dabbed fiscus coloring to
Sethra's lips and over her pronounced nipples. Perfume was added.
When done, and Sethra delivered, chain was secured around the base of ivory
steps leading up to Trenus's bed. Attached to the other end of the chain was the
metal collar wrapping around Sethra's neck.
Oil lamps sputtered and flickered. A female slave stroked Sethra's shiny braid
and whispered for her to rest because she was to star the next day at the arena
where she would have to fight wild animals.
Exhaustion already had plunged Sethra into a deep sleep.
