(C) Copyright Carey Newton 2007 All Rights Reserved.

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Iceni Bride (MF hist)

Under a cloudless blue sky the riverside wharf was a scene of
feverish activity. In the foreground a small rotund vessel, that
that sat low in the water, was being unloaded of its cargo of
wine from Gaul and beyond the carpenters and masons were hard at
work erecting new granaries and warehouses to replace those that
had been destroyed during the recent rebellion. The devastation
of the town of Londinium had been complete but out of the ashes
the city was being reborn and, following the collapse of
Boudicca's revolt, trade across the Mare Brittanicum was already
beginning to pick up and get back to the previous profitable
levels.

The work had been aided by the sudden influx of British slaves,
either through their direct manual labour or from the gold
realised by their sale elsewhere in the Empire, once they had
been transported across the narrow channel that separated the
island from more civilised shores. Indeed the wharf had
temporally become the location of the largest slave market in the
province though, because of the sheer numbers involved, the price
per head at source had fallen dramatically over recent weeks. It
was a time when, if you had the right contacts, there were
genuine bargains to be had.

So many men had died in the last great battle that the majority
of the slaves assembled in the open were women and children and
several groups were sitting dejectedly on the ground waiting for
their turn on the auction block. A few retained a last vestige of
dignity but many were in tears and mothers clung tightly to their
children, fearful of the possibility of separation.

About noon a senior Roman commander approached with the members
of his entourage and surveyed the scene dispassionately. One of
the traders had a reputation for the superior quality of his
stock and, having done business with him in the past, Antoninus
had been pleased with the transaction and was happy to repeat it
if the man had anything in stock that was to his liking. Spotting
him in the crowd he walked over and greeted the slaver warmly,
gripping his arm firmly.

The slaves on offer were all young women and girls, each of them
attractive, though they varied greatly in form and colouring.
With crude curses and a degree of rough handling, the slaver's
servants forced them to stand facing the Roman in a line. Their
hands were shackled behind their backs and and each was linked
into a chain that secured them together, though it was a simple
matter to detach if you had the key. Most looked down at the
ground as he walked along the line making his initial selection,
though the more experienced tried to catch his eye, since the
alternative to a rich master might well be working in a brothel
or harbour side bar, which amounted to much the same thing.
There, they knew, they would have to service ten or more men in
an evening, working in a small cubicle with a bench covered by a
straw mattress and just a curtain separating them from their
neighbours. By comparison being a household slave was infinitely
preferable especially if the master took a fancy to you.

He selected five of their number for a closer examination and
they were released from their shackles and brought forward. With
the exception of one who remained stone faced and resolute they
were tearful and unkempt, not having had the opportunity to wash
or comb their hair and still wearing the ragged clothes they had
been taken in.

Methodically he examined each in turn, prising their mouths open
to look at their teeth, feeling the flesh of their upper arms as
if to assess their health and vitality and caressing the breasts
of each through the material of their thin dresses, while he
watched their faces closely to gauge their reactions. For the
purpose he had in mind this was not a task to be delegated to a
servant.

After careful consideration he chose two of their number. A young
girl of fifteen with blue eyes and long blonde hair and a darker
young woman who by the swell of her belly was some six months
pregnant. Without any preliminary the slave trader instructed
them to strip and, after an initial hesitation, they reluctantly
began to take off their dresses by lifting them over their heads.
They were not wearing anything underneath.

The girl had pale skin and full rose-tipped breasts that were
firm and well proportioned to her height and figure. The other
young woman was similarly well endowed but her flawless skin was
marked by a distinctive tattoo with blue geometric patterns that
rose above her left breast and curved over her shoulder down her
back. Despite her obvious condition she satisfied his taste for
the exotic and her lean body suggested deceptive strength and
stamina.

The slave master explained to him that the girl was a Trinovante
from near Colchester, whose entire family had been enslaved
because her tribe had taken an active part in the recent
rebellion. He had sold the mother and a younger brother on at a
profit but had decided to keep the girl because she was a pretty
thing and, as he had personally ascertained, a virgin, which
increased her value.

He went on to tell him that the young woman, who though naked in
a public place still stood proudly erect in front of him, was an
Iceni aristocrat, related to the late Queen, whose husband of
less than a year had been killed in the last great battle. Her
name was Brea and she had been a warrior, as was the custom of
her people, and had borne arms against the Legions. The story
went that she had fought bravely, with breasts bare, taunting her
enemies by exposing her body to them. Her life had only been
spared because of a lucky blow that struck her unconscious in the
confusion of the battle and the fact of her obvious beauty. When
she had first come into his possession she had been inclined to
be stubborn but the judicious use of the rod on her back had soon
taught her to be more amenable to instruction. The chastisement,
though painful, had left no permanent mark, great care having
been taken not to break the skin.

They were both keeping their legs closed, standing upright with
their hands at their side and making no other attempt to cover
themselves. The slave trader roughly kicked the woman's feet
apart, seeing which the girl followed suit, anxious not to draw
attention to herself. The outer lips of their sexes were both now
visible beneath their pubic thatch, though the deeper, more
intimate, mysteries that lay within remained concealed by the
outer folds.

The Roman walked slowly around the two women studying them
carefully. The sun was warm on their bodies and although it was
not cold, the young girl shivered attractively. He paused in
front of the woman and took hold of a strand of her thick hair,
looking it in the bright sunlight, black reflected purple.
Abruptly he reached his hand between her thighs, parting the sex
and roughly inserting his forefinger up to the knuckle. Their
eyes met and she locked her gaze on his but did not flinch or try
to pull away. With a thin smile he placed the same hand on her
pregnant belly and shaped it to her outline as if assessing her
fertility.

He then turned to the girl who endured stoically as he cupped her
left breast and roused the nipple to a tight tip with his thumb.
Running a hand over her buttocks he tested their smoothness and
resilience.

"She is a virgin you say?"

"Yes My Lord, though I imagine not for want of attention."

The Roman smiled, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Pleased with what he found he let her go and turned to negotiate
a price for the pair of them with the trader, while they
continued to mutely stand, exposed and vulnerable, in the open
air as their fate was decided. They were regarded as property not
individuals and therefore their feelings were of little
importance.

Eventually the negotiations were concluded to the satisfaction of
both parties and the two slaves were allowed to cover themselves.
They were placed in the custody of one of Commander's servants
but their hands were not rebound although they were watched
closely and there was no obvious prospect of escape.

*

They were taken by oxcart to his villa in the country, to the
south of the city, which miraculously had escaped the general
destruction. There they were immediately put to one side by the
female household slaves and their clothes taken away to be
burned. Naked they were made to sit in a wooden tub and each in
turn was bathed in hot water and had her hair washed and
untangled. It was strange for both of them to be handled and
touched so intimately by strangers but still they could not help
but marvel at the sophistication of the plumbing and under floor
heating with which the villa was equipped.

Afterwards they were each given a clean white cotton dress to
wear. The arms were bare and the hem only reached down to their
knees. Its simplicity seemed to denote their new status in this
household. They were treated kindly by the other servants and put
to work in the kitchen preparing the evening meal.

In the evening the servants returned and taking the pregnant
woman to one side, bathed her yet again, washing away the sweat
and flour dust from the kitchen. She was puzzled by this
obsessive emphasis on cleanliness, was this all the Romans did?
Afterwards, when they had dried her, they sat her naked on a
stool and brushed her black hair until it shone. Then they made
up her face, paying especial attention to her eyes. As they
rouged her nipples, the purpose of their labours became clear.
She was being prepared for her master's bed. Standing back to
admire their handiwork they commented with friendly interest on
her strange barbarian markings, their fingers tracing its outline
across her pale skin.

She was given a new dress to wear that shimmered in the
candlelight and felt as light on her body as a cobweb at dawn. It
seemed as if it did not so much cover as accentuate the outline
of her body. The tips of her breasts and the dark triangle of her
groin were clearly shadowed beneath it.

The butler came in and she instinctively stood as he inspected
her. He nodded in approval and smiling instructed her to follow
him.

He led her to a private dining room where the master was about to
have his evening meal. Antoninus invited her to sit on the couch
beside him which she reluctantly did, taking care to make sure
that there was a gap between their bodies.

Reaching over he pulled her closer to him and she resigned
herself to the inevitable, knowing full well that any resistance
would be futile. If she did not submit to his desires he would
have her beaten and she had no wish to repeat that experience.
There was also the welfare of her unborn child to think about.
She had a duty to her dead husband to ensure that it survived to
adulthood.

He put his arm around her shoulder and with his other hand
tenderly touched her cheek. She forced herself to smile and
accept the caress. She was under no illusions as to what she must
do to earn his good will, but reasoned that as his favourite she
might at least have hope. As a mere slave, forever unnoticed in
the background, there was none.

Encouraged by her apparent acquiescence his fingers brushed the
bare flesh of her upper arm and shoulder. His desire was clear
and yet he seemed curiously timid and uncertain as how to
proceed. It was so unlike the man of action that she understood
him to be.

Taking his right hand she placed it over her breast. The nipple
was a hard tip pressing against his palm. He let it rest there,
feeling her warmth and the rapid beat of her heart through the
flimsy material.

Turning her head she looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes.
He bent and as their lips touched she opened to receive him,
responding as his tongue searched for hers.

He held the kiss and then with a laugh broke the embrace and
taking a grape from the table offered it to her. She parted her
moist lips and he pressed it inside, a simple act that surprised
her by its understated suggestion of intimacy.

For the remainder of the meal he continued to embrace her and
alternately feed himself then her. The passivity of the act was
strange to her, she felt like a child again, helpless and
dependent on another person for every need. She would have
preferred to be the one feeding him. Despite herself, however,
she found it arousing; particularly in the knowledge that shortly
they would very likely engage in a much more intimate activity
together.

He took the silver goblet and raised it to her lips. This
required care on her part as she was anxious not to spill any and
spoil her dress. Opening wide she swallowed as he poured the red
wine directly into her mouth. Afterwards he carefully wiped her
lips with a napkin and then indicated that she should stand.

She followed him as he went into a side room and relieved himself
into an earthenware pot, with a loud tinkling sound, as if
oblivious to her presence. She felt the insistent pressure of her
own bladder but pushed it to the back of her mind. She would do
what she had to but had no intention of demeaning herself
unnecessarily in front of him.

His bedroom was less luxurious that she had expected it would be.
Then she recalled that he was a soldier and would be used to more
austere comforts when on campaign. There was a wide low bed with
a simple mattress covered by a single cotton sheet and a blanket.
In the corner stood a small shrine to his household gods. Apart
from a large chest by the window there was no other furniture in
the room.

She took all this in with a single glance and looking back at him
found that his eyes were upon her, drinking in her beauty. Taking
a deep breath she resolved resolutely to follow the course she
had set out upon, this was not a time for half measures or for
shrinking back.

Slipping the straps of her dress down her shoulders she let it
slowly fall and, with a seductive wiggle of her hips, eased it
past her breasts and the growing swell of her belly. It lay in a
pool at her feet and she gracefully stepped out of it and kicked
it delicately to one side.

She was fully aware of her beauty and without being obvious,
tilted her hip and posed for his pleasure. Then in an
unpremeditated act of ritual submission, that took even her by
surprise, she sank to her knees and, with her back straight and
knees parted, placed her hands palm upward on her thighs. The
posture thrust her tattooed breasts toward him and offered him an
unhindered view of what lay between her legs.

Her position clearly delighted him, revealing as it did both her
body and indicating her willingness to submit to him. He had
anticipated some degree of reluctance from her, in view of her
reputation, and while he would have risen to the challenge of
bending her to his desire he was not unappreciative of a more
willing partner. He had taken girls by force, but in his
experience the pleasure was short-lived without their active
participation.

He motioned for her to rise and she helped him to undress. His
body was firm and toned without any excess fat. She ran her hand
along the length of a scar on his chest, which she learned later
was a relic of a campaign in Germany during his youth and stepped
back, awaiting his pleasure.

Her husband had been a courageous warrior but naked in the
sleeping chamber he had always seemed to her exposed and
vulnerable, particularly when he was no longer aroused. Her
master, however, retained an air of command that required no
clothes to substantiate it. She realised that this was not a man
to be trifled with and felt curiously stirred by the knowledge.

He led her to the bed and she climbed on it, leaving a space by
her side for him to join her. Leaning over her he kissed her on
the lips, his hand caressing her flanks and lingering over her
breast. She responded pressing upwards to meet his embrace.

She reasoned that her taking the lead would please him best and,
as gracefully as her pregnant form would allow, sat up and moved
to kneel between his legs.

His manhood stirred of its own accord as she looked down at it.
Reaching out she grasped it between her thumb and forefinger and
slowly pulled back the foreskin to reveal the bulbous head. It
was not as long as her husband's had been but was thicker in the
stem. She wondered how different it would feel inside her?

Bending her head she took him between her lips and pressed slowly
forward. She was not unskilled in the arts of love and knew how
to tease a man to the brink of a pleasure that lingered on the
edge of pain. She briefly considered letting him come in her
mouth, but she was already pregnant and anticipated that he would
prefer to find release between her nether lips. In that way he
could demonstrate his mastery and so mark her as belonging to
him.

She brought him to the brink of the precipice and left him
hanging there before she raised her head and allowed him to slip
out of her mouth. Moving further up his body she lay her length
down against him and pressed between his open thighs kissing him
on the lips. She lifted up and offered her breast to his eager
mouth and he suckled her greedily like a child.

She contemplated how best to give herself to him. The most
obvious position would have been on her back where he could lie
between her legs, but her swollen belly made this position
difficult and less satisfying for them both.

Moving to sit astride him she brushed her sex over his groin and
ground herself against him. She felt him grow in response and,
since he continued to allow her the freedom to take the lead in
their lovemaking, she reached down between her thighs and parted
the lips of her sex, assessing with her fingers her readiness to
receive him. Her body was aroused and they came away sticky with
her own juices.

She took hold of him and placing the tip against the entrance
eased slowly down on him. His thickness distended her opening but
the sensation was not unpleasant, only different and unfamiliar
to her. Gently she began to move herself up and down using the
strength of her thigh muscles and she felt with satisfaction his
answering thrusts. The angle of entry meant that any motion
caused him to rub against the tiny nubbin of flesh at the top of
her sex, causing small gasps of pleasure to escape from her lips
that only seemed to spur him to a more vigourous action.

A trickle of sweat ran down between her breasts and they swung
heavily beneath her as she leant forward over him. He reached out
to grasp them, stopping their independent motion, his thumbs
roughly crushing her sensitive nipples. The touch was all that
was required to send her over the edge and she came with a cry,
shaking violently in all her limbs, her upper chest and neck
suffused with crimson and eyes closed tight.

Recollecting herself she quickly opened them and kept up her
rhythmic movements. Her pleasure was secondary and her master had
not yet has his. She tightened on him and focussed her mind on
that small place where their bodies were conjoined. Her movements
became more brisk and she felt his body become hot and slick
beneath her. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and she
quickly brushed it out of her eyes with the back of her hand.

His stamina amazed her, most men would have succumbed long before
this but she could tell from the pained expression of his face
that his release was not far off. With a lingering gasp he thrust
upwards and found satisfaction deep inside her body. She felt his
warmth flood her sex and paused waiting for the spurts to cease.

Beneath her he laughed and playfully smacked her bottom quite
hard, so that it stung and left a red mark in the shape of his
hand. She took this as an indication that he had finished with
her and lifting off him lay down languorously beside him. His
seed oozed out of her body, mixed with her own secretions, and
ran down the inside of her thigh. There was the smell of raw sex
in the room. She felt thoroughly possessed but also fully at ease
with herself. She had anticipated rape and had found instead
something that she found hard to put a name to. It was not love
and yet it was more than simply desire. In the simple act of
freely giving herself to him she had come to terms with her lot.
Freedom was a distant memory, the slave had found her master and
resting satiated and sweating beside him she felt a profound
sense of peace and security.

She nestled against him and with the tip of his finger he traced
the outline of the tattoo above her breast. What once had been a
mark of independence and self assertion was now one of ownership
and possession. She did not know what tomorrow would bring for
her and her unborn child but for the moment at least she was
happy.