The Fallen Woman of Világos

by Ursula Grey

  “Give to her your staff of life, Apollo,” said a fat man who jostled the others to make his way to the front to better view the act.

  He guided her forward. In a daze, she knelt down before the jeering audience. She placed her palms upon the dais and steadied herself. The tiles of the mosaic floor swam before her, the geometric patterns seemed to grow large then small, causing her head to spin. Never had she been taken in this manner, never had she believed she would be. The reality of what was about to occur caused her to tense. A chill ran through her although it was warm in the room.

  He knelt behind her. His thighs pressed against the backs of hers. The hardness of his cock impatiently throbbed against the small of her back. He placed his hands upon her hips and then slid his right hand between her legs and traveled down between the smoothness of her thighs.

  The Romans were obsessed with removing every last hair from their bodies. A painful procedure, it was one she was forced to endure for the pleasure of her owner. He parted her lips with his fingers and hungrily sought out the tiny pearl that once again lay hidden within its tiny sheath. He could have forced himself upon her, but he did not. His words came back to her: open yourself, trust me. In answer to his words she spread her legs and allowed him to stroke the tender nub that began to respond to his touch.

  If she closed her eyes she could forget where she was, for once again the onlookers had quieted. Like wolves, the hungry pack eyed their prey, longing for the kill, eager to hear her cry out in pain. She would not give them the satisfaction. If she had to endure this act, let it be with the man behind her, she thought. The rhythmic circling of his finger upon her bud drew all sensation, all consciousness, to the strange tingling between her thighs. Still wet from the earlier encounter, she found that if she thought of his cock inside her again, it would calm her. His fingers played her well and she lost herself in his touch.

  The soothing gentleness was hypnotic, and she moved with him and against the pressure he applied to the source of her pleasure. Next, he withdrew from the front of her thighs and approached her from behind. His fingers slid from her clit to the wetness that wept from her tender opening and moved upward to the tiny aperture that instantly contracted when he stroked it.

  She sensed he was trying to prepare her, to ease her anxiety and relax the tight muscles. When he inserted the tip of his finger, she gasped. The alien sensation was uncomfortable, but she had no time to think. They had little time, for the crowd was growing impatient.

  She tried to relax as he probed more deeply. At last, his finger was fully inside her. With his left hand, he returned to her bud that blossomed at his touch, and this new intrusion.

  It surprised her that her body responded this way. She knew she blushed but pretended it was invisible to those who watched.

  “Enough!” shouted the master. “Enough of your finger, give her your cock—now!”

  “No,” she whispered. “No!” she screamed.

  With his left hand he held firmly to her hip, keeping her still whilst his finger continued to probe the tight center of delight. The passage sufficiently stretched, he slid the thickness of his cock between her wet lips and targeted the passage she had no choice but to allow him to enter.

  “Let us see, let us see!” they cried. “For how do we know for certain that he will do as you ask?”

  She heard the tyrant's voice thunder behind her. “Spread her lovely cheeks wide, Apollo. Take her," he said. "Now!”

  He opened her secret place to the eyes of the observers. She burned with shame while the impervious head of his cock nuzzled against her exposed nether flower. Involuntarily, she contracted her muscles but relaxed when he resumed his efforts on her pulsating clit. Her breathing became deep and her legs trembled as he began to press against the resistant gate in an effort to at least gain entry for the head of his cock.

  It would not work—it could not. She bit her lower lip as he pushed into her. Little by little, the head of his cock pierced the tight rings that had never taken a man before. The initial pain caused her to cry out. The sound of low muffled laughter enveloped them. They enjoyed the spectacle she had become, that they had become. In this instance, when survival was the prize, submission was the key, she thought. It was essential that she submit--to the pain, to the humiliation, to him. His fingers worked her clit; round and round he traced circles, rubbing with pressure, then without.

  She blocked out the snickers, the calls, the eyes of those enraptured by her captivity. There was nothing more to do other than what he asked, to open herself to him. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the probing creature that stubbornly pushed forward into the darkness. A rush of warmth began to spread through her, beginning at the tiny bud that beat and throbbed. He held her firmly and pushed deeper. Pinioned upon him, she feared he would halve her, for she did not feel she could withstand this invasion.

  She knew he did not wish to hurt her, but also that he must continue until she had taken all of him. He made steady progress, but there was much more of him to take. They demanded he pierce her to the hilt, and she cried out as he plunged deeper. Slowly, the pain was replaced by a strange pleasure. With one deep breath, she moved toward him, signaling she was ready to continue.

  Her hips began to move involuntarily to meet his thrusts. She was slick with dewy moisture but it was not that void he filled. Lightheaded, her head hung downward and swayed from side to side. A deep and dark passion rose within her and she longed for more of his thick member, although with each additional gift of his length she gritted her teeth. The painful stretching and probing inflamed her desire. She signaled she was ready to take all of him.

  She reached back to grasp his shaft only to discover that more than a hand's width had yet to burrow inside her, to find its way to the core of the forbidden chamber. Aching with desire, she pressed back against him.

  The temptation was too great for him. He met her thrusts and buried his cock deep within her. Her mouth opened wide. The invasion of his huge cock was successful. The conquest of the tiny hole was complete when the last of his cock disappeared inside her.

  The lecherous one gathered them closer to view the spectacle. Indeed, the slave’s sword had pierced the virginal flesh of that nether entrance. Let them see, she thought. Let them see also my passion and pleasure at this invasion they bore witness to.

  She was burning now, on fire, on fire...He plunged into her more aggressively, unable to stop. She did not want him to. With one swift movement, he raised her hips into the air, impaling her upon his rod of iron. With a final thrust, a shower of light engulfed her, spreading pleasure throughout every part of her body. He gave a cry and shot his seed into her for the second time.

  Her thighs trembled. She lay upon her stomach with him atop her. His breath sounded rapidly in her ear. “Trust me,” he said, “I shall never leave you.”

  Silence filled the room. She could almost believe she was home, safe from the invading enemy instead of ensnared in their perverse trap. What would be their fate, she wondered? They lay together as one, he still caught inside the tightness of her being.

  “What say you, my guests? Do they live? Or do they die?”

  The answer was never revealed. Hysterical cries of “Fire!” erupted from inside the palace and without. For a moment all was still, and then a frenzy of hysteria broke out. Goblets crashed to the floor. In their haste the debauched trampled over each other to escape. The heavy smell of smoke announced the power of the cataclysm. Pandemonium reigned. The party dispersed, no longer interested in their game.

  The couple was forgotten. Her lover grabbed her garment and dressed her quickly, but not before kissing her passionately. “Hasten,” he said. “We shall be free of this place.” He grabbed for her hand and pulled her from the palace and out into the street. Throngs ran hurriedly from the city. Rome was burning. She smiled. For she now realized who this man was—she knew then she would be eternally bound to him.

  An instant later his hand was torn
from hers. The crowd was frantic, the street thick with bodies intent upon escape. “Wait,” she cried—but he was lost in the wave of the mass exodus. The stampede swept her forward, without him.

  Chapter Eight

  The sonorous chime of the clock roused him. How many hours, or even days, had he shut himself away and lost himself in work?

  The last regression had alarmed him in that he'd lost contact with her. It seemed the further back he regressed her, the more difficult it became for him to maintain contact. In the telling of each lurid detail she'd drifted beyond his reach, and it was only with great effort that he was able to recall her to this reality. His beseeching her to leave that place went unheeded. She'd lain unresponsive for several minutes afterward, her pulse dangerously low.

  Had she truly returned to a wretched life of slavery in ancient Rome? If he could prove the existence of other lifetimes through hypnosis, his voice would remain alive throughout history. He shook his head. Was recognition so vital to him, whatever the cost?

  And what of Karolina? Although he might not succeed in curing her amnesiac state, he was obsessed with learning who she was, who she could be, and why she'd chosen him. His pressing need to learn the truth would require she undergo the process a final time. However, he vowed not to place her life in danger again.

  He knew that once she regained her memory, a woman of her beauty, passion, and intelligence could not be kept captive much longer. His beautiful songbird would soon take flight. Surely she would be anxious to leave the hermetic existence that she'd shared with him for the past several months. And when that time came, it would devastate him.

  To take his mind from dread of her departure, he'd immersed himself in work. Yes! He must solve this eternal mystery, throw his soul into the mission, if only to halt the incessant thoughts of her that he feared would drive him mad.

  It was time. But where would he find the lovely and fascinating Karolina today? When not capturing image on canvas or taking in the vista upon the terrace, she usually retreated to the library. He placed a period at the end of his sentence and closed his journal.

  He walked soundlessly through the hall of the great house. To the left, the door of the library stood ajar. So as not to startle her, he quietly scanned the room. She sat upon a chair beside the fireplace, a book on her lap. He watched her intently. Suddenly and without warning, she slammed shut the volume and flung it to the floor. With her head in her hands she began to weep softly.

  He backed from the doorway. He would allow her to compose herself before making his presence known. Again he strode forward, stepping hard upon the planks of the floorboards, perhaps too loudly. He heard a gasp and the scrape of a chair upon the floor. When he at last entered, he found her sliding the book back into its place upon the shelf.

  She turned her face to him. Though reddened, her eyes shone bright with intelligence.

  "Hello, my dear. I hope I've not disturbed you."

  "Not at all. I've just come in. The view is so lovely, the air so pure. I'm sure it has done much to hasten my recovery. And you, my good doctor, you've been so kind and generous. I don't know how I can ever repay you," she said and smiled a strange sad smile.

  The days had grown shorter and the air now carried a perpetual chill. She took to wearing a straight shift, in the fashion of the ancients. The gown, gathered at the waist with a golden cord, gave her the appearance of a goddess. He watched her pace the room restlessly as she wrung her hands and fretted with her shawl. Her smooth forehead was creased with worry lines. Bewildered as to the source of her anxiety, his first thought was to comfort her. He moved toward her but she stopped abruptly and turned to him.

  "Is something troubling you?" he asked.

  "No, of course not. It is just that I—"

  Halting in midsentence, she seemed to think better of continuing and quickly changed the subject. "It is time for our session, is it not? That is why you have come. Is that not so?"

  He noted that her porcelain skin looked paler than usual, translucent even. "I had hoped that you would feel equal to it, but despite your claims of health, you look rather wan. Perhaps we should refrain from today's treatment."

  "Not at all. I feel fine." She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, releasing a mournful sigh as she did. "I've nothing better to do with my time, you see. I'm very much good for nothing, so I may as well amuse you."

  "Nonsense," he said. "You do not look well." He did not know what had transpired to alter her mood and transform her into the sad and listless being that stood before him. Her usually proud carriage now drooped and brought to mind a flower laid low by a sudden storm.

  "I am certain, doctor," she said. "No. In fact, I insist."

  "If that is truly your wish," he said uncertainly. "I know it will aid you in your efforts to remember your former self."

  "I'm not sure if I want to know who I am, doctor. I'm not sure if you'd be pleased to learn exactly what sort of creature I am." Lost in thought, she stood immobile for several seconds. The now audible ticking of the clock on the mantle broke her reverie. "Let us begin," she said.

  She commanded, as might a goddess. Obeying her directive, he reached for her hand and led her to the sofa. She dropped into it limply and closed her eyes.

  He opened his journal and took up his pen. How he longed to take her into his arms, to question her at length, to force her to tell him what troubled her so. But no, as her doctor he could not betray her in that manner.

  Each night he fought the intense urge to lay bare his feelings, to cast aside his role as physician and instead steal into her bed and hold her close in the night. Oh bright star, he thought, watching her. Oh fragile flower of my heart, oh sorceress of the night, lay your divine hand upon my breast, join your heart with mine—

  He started to record the session but stopped, laying down his pen. He wanted only to know of her life before she'd entered his.

  “Please, my dear, I want you to relax.” He held her hand as he spoke, caressed it softly, and then let go.

  * * * *

  She grew used to the process; his voice guided her down a long and winding tree-lined path. As in a fairy tale, she knew she could find her way back by the sound of his voice. Journeying farther and farther, her eyelids became leaden and she grew sleepy, so sleepy...

  “Do you trust in me?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  "You are safe and no harm shall come to you. You are moving backwards in time, to the period immediately before you arrived at the house on the hill. Tell me where you lived before you arrived.”

  In an instant, she was there. Dark and forbidding, the house where she'd spent the past several months before escaping in the night began to materialize. Not wanting to return to that place, she floated in the shadows above the familiar room. It was always dark, darker still because of the man who lived inside.

  She loathed the house. Its dank rooms were perpetually filled with an air of melancholy. This time she had been played the fool, for he had nothing to offer her. Meals were spare and his trinkets cheap, not because he couldn't afford these luxuries, but because he wouldn't part with the money to buy them. Most vile of all were his close-set beady eyes, eyes that watched her every move, not because he found her pleasing to look upon, but because he did not trust her.

  The time had come for her to leave. She could remain no longer. She did not want to face the truth, but it was too late. At once she was again seated upon the worn sofa. He stood across from her, waiting.

  “Well? If it was not you who took it, who then? Answer me!” Gerhard sneered. His apoplectic face grew red with anger and the knuckles hidden within the pudgy fists whitened. He slammed his fist upon the table and glared at her.

  To think that she had lowered herself...had sunk so deep as to allow this fiend to touch her! The thought sickened her. How long would she sell her soul to survive? Not much longer, she always told herself, she’d rather die. Somehow it would happen all over again. The will to live was too
strong and so she would make the mistake over and again. Or would she?

  “I do not know of what you are speaking," she insisted. "I’ve taken nothing.”

  His body was fat and flaccid, and sweat beaded along his brow as he paced the floor like a mad dog. She turned away in disgust and stared at the ice crystals that formed on the windowpanes. How she hated him. How she hated herself.

  Without warning, he rushed toward her, grabbing her round the throat. She struggled to free herself but the weight of his body crushed her chest. She gasped for air.

  “You whore! Do you think I do not know what you are, who you are? Do you take me for a fool? I know that you prey on the weaknesses of men. You use them, and then steal them blind.”

  “No, Gerhard.” She mouthed the words. She was growing faint. In another moment he would crush her windpipe. His eyes bulged and his rank breath raked her face.

  “Do you not think I know you for the vile creature you are?”

  The words he spoke...Were they true? Is that what she had allowed herself to become? The edges of her vision narrowed and the room grew dark.

  “Do you not think I’ve heard of the unspeakable acts you’ve performed? The way you flaunt the devilish nature of your sex? And you pretend that you’re a lady— Ha!”

  “I am a lady,” she whispered. He squeezed harder. Tears poured from her eyes. He spat in her face. Somehow she managed to raise her leg and knee him in the groin. He loosened his hold and she fell to the floor.

  “Leave, Karolina! Leave this place immediately. You are once again on the lovely wooded path. You are safe from danger. Can you hear me? Karolina, trust in me–Leave now!"

  It was the voice. No one had called her by her given name since her Nana and her dearest Papa. But they had forsaken her and left her alone to find her way in a world of darkness.

  The image of Gerhard's face was seared into her brain. She shook uncontrollably, trying to dispel the image. And then there was quiet. Immediately, she was transported from the terror of the filthy demon who'd revealed to her the truth of what she was, of what she had become…