The Fallen Woman of Világos

by Ursula Grey

  “The evening’s entertainment has arrived!” Their leader clapped his hands together like a glee-filled child. The others needed little incentive to join in the game.

  “Do you not consider this pair the most comely of slaves?” he asked his companions.

  Short and stout, his shiny bald head reflected the flame of the torch flickering above him.

  "Infinitely better than the hideous pair that came before," said a thin dark haired woman with an overly long nose. Her cold eyes glinted when she smiled.

  A thick browed man with close-set eyes leaned forward and peered closely at the couple. “Yes, an attractive pair. The woman is quite comely, but what lies beneath her robe?” He tittered and drank thirstily of his wine. Red drops, like blood, ran down the side of his mouth.

  The face of the rotund leader darkened and the others stifled their laughter. There was cruelty in his face and she shrank from making eye contact with him. She sensed he would be the one dictating the rules of this game.

  “My fair couple,” he began, “if you amuse me to my satisfaction, you shall win your freedom this very evening. However, if you fail—” He pointed his stubby finger at the man beside her. “you shall die. How is a question I have not yet decided upon. My good fellow citizens and women of Rome,” he announced, his words laden with sarcasm, “you will help me decide their fate.”

  The tension broke. The bloodthirsty lot heartily agreed to help conjure up some cruel plan to remove from this earth the man beside her, but once again, his hand reassuringly nudged hers.

  “We shall have an orgy of delight this evening,” the leader continued. “Although the previous couple amused us, I would not call their performance extraordinary.” The laurel upon his head slipped to one side and he slurred his words.

  He raised his hand and the soft sound of a harp filled the room. She had not noticed the musicians before. Beautiful music seemed out of place, but she was grateful for it nonetheless.

  “You shall dance for your freedom, woman. Beside you stands your Apollo. It is your duty to make his sun rise.”

  Once again, the room quaked with laughter. It was followed by a hush of anticipation as they quieted and turned their gaze upon her. "Apollo" stepped back to allow her space. The look in his eyes reassured her. She knew then the secret to her success would be to imagine he was the only man in the room, that she danced only for him. He nodded his head as if he read her thoughts.

  The lute players began. A moment later they were joined by the sweet piercing cry of the kithara. First low and gentle, they progressed to a more rapid and seductive rhythm. Although she had little experience, she’d had brief glimpses of the slave women who danced for her master. Their graceful movements, the way their bodies performed the serpentine dances of their ancestors, had captured her attention. For the brief moments she'd spent enraptured by their swift and seductive movements, she'd transcended time and was no longer a prisoner of her fate.

  The emperor held out his hand to silence the musicians. “Is the woman deaf or dumb?” The little man’s voice caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise. “Dance!” he shouted. “It is your life you dance for—your own and that of your soon to be lover.”

  The rattle of a sistrum urged her forward on unsteady feet. She glanced at the mate they'd chosen for her. His eyes were black and alive. She knew it depended on her to keep them lit with the fire of life.

  “Dance for me,” he whispered.

  She started slowly, moving in a circular motion as she’d seen the dancers do, swaying her hips, forward then back, gyrating her pelvis in time with the music. With a precision she had not known she possessed, she floated across the floor, keeping close to him. His eyes revealed that she excited him. Even in this lecherous crowd of people who would just as easily be satisfied to watch their limbs torn from their bodies, she knew he saw only her. This gave her the courage she needed to block their eyes and voices and dance only for him.

  A clap sounded and the music ceased. The room became still.

  “Remove her rags, Apollo. We cannot see the gifts the gods have bestowed upon her.”

  Blood rushed to her face and she brought her arms to her chest. “No,” she whispered.

  “Now,” ordered the voice of the wicked one. “We have not the patience for these games. Your time is running short. Let us see if your body matches the beauty of your face.”

  The hiss of a woman broke the silence. “Since when can a slave compete in beauty with a citizen of Rome?”

  “Quiet, Octavia. We’ve all seen your lovely breasts and thighs, and your plump ass. We’ve all had them a thousand times, I dare say. Let us see what this one hides beneath her rags.”

  The man before her nodded and slowly she began to unfasten the worn garment that marked her as a slave. He slipped it from her shoulders and it fell to the floor. He kicked it aside and stood with his legs apart and his arms folded. “Trust me,” he said, low and out of range of the crowd.

  A gasp rose from the mouths in the room. “Ahh, ‘tis a fine piece we have before us.”

  “It would be unfortunate to release a beauty such as that,” said the weasel-eyed man.

  “Turn,” ordered the tyrant. “Face us.”

  "Yes, yes," cried the others.

  She obeyed them. Although her hands trembled and her knees grew weak, her disgust for the group was stronger than her shame, strengthening and emboldening her. For too long she had walked meekly among them, longing for escape. Only by surviving this bizarre circus could she win freedom...hers and the man’s standing behind her, this stranger who was unaccountably familiar. She must succeed.

  Their eyes bored into her. The intensity of their gaze burned through her skin as if she were nothing but dirt beneath their feet. It was not so in the land of her birth. Given the opportunity she would return to her home, though she doubted if it still existed. She would dance for them if it would set her free. She would do anything to be free, for she could exist no longer as a slave.

  “Dance,” shouted the tyrant.

  The music grew louder. She turned her back to them and searched the dark eyes of the stranger. Within them she found the courage to release the grave and docile creature she’d become. Faster and faster, she twirled. With arms raised above her head, she swiveled her hips and allowed the rhythm of the music to control her movements. She was no longer before the bloodthirsty crowd, but alone with him.

  His eyes followed her body, but always returned to meet her gaze. With each step she grew bolder. Whirling about him, the dizzying thrill of the movement and music overtook her senses. The din of voices surrounding her melted into the soft and comforting roar of the sea. Snakelike she moved around him, sliding her arms across his smooth and glistening chest, reaching to caress the freedom that ever eluded her grasp. She ended the performance by bowing before him—and not the emperor.

  Then realized that for this she would pay.

  Her heart thudded against the walls of her chest. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears.

  “You forget who your master is.”

  “I do not forget.” The words escaped her lips before she could think.

  “The barbarians believe they have no master,” said the woman who had questioned whether one such as she could compete with the beauties of Rome.

  “I am your master.” That voice, she would never forget it. Nasally and high pitched, he ordered her to face him. “Come to the dais. You shall now provide entertainment of a different sort.”

  She heard tittering. Obviously others had been subjected to the secret games that lay ahead. The courage that had infused her during the dance suddenly vanished.

  “You too, Apollo,” the emperor jeered. “Do not stand mute, join your countrywoman.”

  The look in his eyes said that he knew what would soon be expected of them. “Trust me,” he whispered again. There had been no one she could trust since being brought here against her will. Why not him? Why not now?

  They
walked side by side until reaching the dais that was elevated above the floor. It was covered with the hide of an animal and was the focal point of the room. All eyes were focused upon it. She saw their grinning faces, heard low laughter. The lust in the eyes of the men and the cruel smiles on the faces of the women mocked her.

  The madman raised his hand and a hush fell over the room.

  “Love your newfound mate, Apollo, but make certain it is an entertaining performance. It may be the last time your cock finds its way inside a woman.” He laughed and leaned forward. “Let it begin! Do not be coy, make quick work about it.” He pointed to the platform before them.

  The stranger reached for her hand and held her steady as she stepped onto the dais. Her legs trembled and she feared she would collapse. With trepidation, she lay upon the platform and tried to remain calm. His voice soothed her and she found that as long as she looked into his eyes, she could momentarily forget the other eyes that crawled over her body.

  He loosened his loincloth and threw the garment to the floor. A cheer went up from the crowd of men gathered while gasps of astonishment issued from the lips of the women. Her eyes moved slowly over his body. He was aptly named by the tyrant, for he greatly resembled their god Apollo. His chest looked as chiseled as that of his marbled twin, only this god lived and breathed. Slick with oil, his chest glimmered in the flickering light. The torso of this man tapered in at the hips and sat atop legs as muscular as his chest. It was what lay between his torso and legs that caused the women in the room to take in their breaths.

  For she too saw and her eyes grew large in astonishment. His cock was the largest she had ever seen and in this respect, he differed greatly from the image of the sun god. Wide and long, but too massive to bear its own weight, it stood parallel to his body, and pointed in her direction. He saw the incredulous look on her face for she feared she would not be able to take him.

  He knelt before her and lifted her legs so they were bent at the knees. She closed her eyes as he slid his hands beneath her buttocks. The hair of his head fell between her legs as he gently spread her thighs. The next sensation was that of his tongue sliding up one thigh and then the other until he reached the apex of her physical soul.

  A shock of arousal swept through her as blood rushed to her cheeks. The first lick of his tongue caused her legs to tremble even further and so she simply let them fall beside her and opened herself to him. How fortunate she was to have such a lover. He could have forced his way inside her with little care for her well-being. For that she was grateful and moaned in gratitude.

  In response, he lifted her buttocks higher, parting her cheeks with his strong and steady hands, then drank deeply from her well. His tongue flickered between her nether lips and rose higher until he reached the tender bud that now swelled with delight at his attentions. He licked tenderly, eliciting soft moans that she could not quell. She'd never uttered a single word when she'd been taken before. She'd never been treated with the gentle respect this stranger was bestowing upon her. That coupled with the physical sensation of his tongue caused her to feel such waves of arousal that she did not care who watched. If this was to be her last day on earth, she would be honored to spend it with him.

  The crowd grew quiet and more subdued. An unearthly silence settled over the room. Like a pack of jackals, they slowly moved forward, circling their prey, watching and waiting.

  He continued working her body, steadily arousing her with his tongue and lips. He raised her hips higher and lapped steadily at the dewy nectar that flowed from between her thighs. The many eyes disappeared and she thought only of the sensations gifted upon her, and that of the man who was the instrument of that pleasure.

  He played her body as if he had known it forever. Her lips parted as she took in long, slow breaths. Arching her back, she spread her legs wider. She ground her pubic bone against him and lost control of her body. It now followed a new rhythm, one she had never danced to before. Her hands gripped the sides of the dais. She clung to it as he now licked in long sweeping strokes, parting her lips with his tongue.

  When he played at the entrance to her well of delight, she cried out. Slowly his tongue slid into her. When she opened her eyes she saw the men peering intently over his shoulders. Involuntarily, she started to close her thighs, but her lover pushed them open. To be exposed in such a manner was awkward, yet she found she did not care. They had full vantage of the pink flower that lay in full bloom before them. Her thighs trembled, her heart raced—and her body longed to be filled by him.

  As if he knew her thoughts, he gently withdrew his hands from beneath and knelt over her. Her erect nipples were eager for his touch and he lapped and bit the little points, then sucked them hard. The more he fondled, caressed, and sucked, the more the place between her legs grew wet with the dew that would allow him to take her.

  He brought his lips to hers. Hungry, he parted them and filled her mouth with his tongue. She tasted the scent of love and passion, a strange perfume, one that she found intoxicating. With his chest pressed against her breasts, the head of his strong cock nestled between her thighs, he parted her legs as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. His eager cock prodded against the entrance to her secret valley, and although slick with desire, he could not easily enter her.

  “Open yourself to me...Open,” he whispered.

  She relaxed and he began to slowly work his way into her channel.

  “Yes, yes. They are not here. It is just you and I.”

  His words came with much effort. She gasped as he moved past the tight muscles of her inner sanctum. He was filling her with a wide and thick sword of great pleasure. She lifted her legs and spread them. She opened herself to him completely.

  He raised himself upon his forearms and looked into her eyes as she took more and more of him inside her. She had forgotten how large he was and when glancing down saw that he had entered only half his mighty rod.

  She observed the eyes of the women. Envy lit upon their faces. They coveted his cock, they coveted the delights he was bestowing upon her—a simple slave. She took comfort in the fact that if they had any influence whatsoever, they would save him in the hopes that they too could one day feel his length and breadth inside them. Their menfolk watched as he drove his cock into her body, advancing mightily past the tightness of her entrance.

  “Ahhh.” She moaned and writhed and gasped with delight. A steady rush of warmth traveled through her body. It radiated from all her centers of pleasure. When he touched the nipples of her breasts, a tingling itch of madness caused her to grind against him. At that moment, he lifted her legs above her head, exposing her nakedness to the eyes of the rabid crowd.

  She knew what they saw; her pink lips spread wide and the thickness of his cock sliding deeper into her wet opening. The thought of their intruding eyes made her tighten her grip round his cock. Holding the backs of her thighs firmly, he plunged deeper inside her. In his eyes, she saw lust, excitement, and yet still deeper within their fiery depths, a look of compassion such as no man, or woman, had ever previously bestowed upon her. She shuddered and opened wider still, relaxing the muscles that had previously tried to halt his intrusion into her soul.

  Instead of closing her eyes, she decided she would greet their eyes with a look of defiance borne of pleasure. Each gaze she met with a smirk of derision, then turned to look at him. As she did, he pushed into her until she had taken his entire length. Unable to control the wild sensations that coursed through her body, she ground her bud of love against him, and exploded with sensations that shook her and transported her to another realm. It was the first time that a man had brought her to such an awakening.

  He too exploded releasing his seed into her. First a low groan, then an unearthly growl escaped from him. It startled even the onlookers. With a gentleness unknown to her, he released his grip, allowing her legs to entwine with his. The full red lips of his perfectly formed mouth he brought down upon her and kissed them the way a husband kisses a bel
oved wife.

  The beauty of the moment was soon interrupted by the creator of this staged show of passion. A grimace was the first sign that he was displeased by what he'd hoped would be a drama of rape and madness. Upset by the beauty of the encounter, she knew he longed for perversion and defilement. It helped little that the female attendees of this ghastly entourage wore strange smiles of mystery. They longed to be caressed as she had been, by a man such as this slave, this Apollo.

  “Now," the tyrant said, “let us see how much she enjoys, shall we say, a pleasure of a different sort.”

  He looked upon his “Apollo” with a hatred she’d not seen in the eyes of any man until now. At the same moment she saw also her lover’s eyes glow with a hatred to match the creature’s own. She feared for his life and laid her hand over his heart. You must not, said her eyes, for to do so would spoil the perfect nature of the union that has just occurred between us. At once, a softness returned to them and he imperceptibly bowed his head to her before turning to the red-faced lunatic.

  “On your hands and knees, woman,” ordered the tyrant. “Yes, you—let us see how eagerly you accept your Apollo from the rear.”

  Her throat became dry and she swallowed hard. She knew her face betrayed fear. Surely he did not mean—

  Having recovered from the previous exhibition, the group now tittered and guffawed. They were eager to view the next act of debauchery. Now emboldened, the men shouted crude remarks, whilst the master of the domus wore a depraved smile.

  “Do not keep us waiting!” he shouted. “Let the performance begin!”

  The crowd moved closer still to the dais. She could feel the heat of their fetid breaths crawling over her skin. She looked up to the dark stranger. Although she saw compassion in his eyes, his cock had grown hard once again. He held out his hand to her and she took it. He pulled her to him so that she stood facing him. The roar of the voices became unintelligible and she heard only his whisper. “I will try to go gently with you, but you must open yourself to me. Trust me,” he said, then guided her in front of him so that her back was now pressed against his chest.