Fiction, Authoritarian, BDSM, Bondage and restriction, Cruelty, Domination/submission, Incest, Male/Teen Female, Older Male / Female, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Slavery, Teen, Violence, Written by women, Young
Author's Notes I'm having difficulty doing dailies with all of the family stuff going on for the holidays. The story is far from over, and I'm still writing. I'm just having a hard time finding the time to write 6-8K words every day. Thanks for sticking with me :]
Scene 01: Cassius - Sex? No.
Scene 02: Callia - Sex? Yes.
Scene 03: Cassius - Sex? Yes.
He wasn't a man to use the word "cute."
But Callia, today, was the "cutest" thing he'd ever seen.
Everything was so new to her, so exciting. She flitted back and forth between the market stalls, speaking to everyone.. Touching everything. And he loomed behind her, the coldest, cruelest stare he could manage trained on the faces of any vendor that might consider telling her to stop. If anyone looked at her wrong, broke her mood - he'd fucking kill them. In the most creatively painful way he could think of.
Most of the vendors, especially the food vendors, were exceptionally friendly to her. Her charms had worked particularly well on the vintner, who had insisted that they try several of his best and make sure Lykos knew just how fine his wares were. Now she was teetering around in her sandals like a little lush, and the only thing keeping her balanced was the arm she'd looped through his.
He leaned over and pressed his lips against her ear. "What do you think?"
"Oh Cassius." She breathed and her eyes focused intently on a sparkling stall filled to the brim with jewelry. "It's better than I'd dreamed of."
He laughed as he led her over the stall. "Come, meet Agnes."
There were two people in Rome who stubbornly refused to fear Cassius. One was Callia. Agnes was the other. He swore that she had two spirits living inside her body; one was a sweet old woman with a kind word for everyone, the other a blood-thirsty savage who would cut your throat as soon as she'd shake your hand. She had to be at least seventy years old. She was the one vendor in the market that had never been robbed.
"Cassius." Agnes beamed at him. "Now who's this pretty little thing? Surely her father didn't turn her loose with the likes of you."
He laughed. "This is Callia. My sister."
"Ohh." Her eyes widened as she studied Callie. "Well, she is as pretty as the men all say. I didn't expect her to be so.. Small. Pretty little runt, though. Hello, then, child. Enjoying the sights?"
Callia nodded politely, but she was a girl and they were in the middle of a jewelry stall. Her eyes were wide as she examined everything. "I've never seen the market before."
"You should see this one, child. Look." Agnes smiled at her and pulled a little ring off the wall and winked at Cassius. "The stone is almost the exact color of your eyes. Never seen a stone like this before."
Cassius narrowed his eyes at Agnes. She was trying to be kind. Well, be kind and make a sale. She didn't know that Lykos would never allow Callia to own anything, even something as small as a little ring. It pissed him off.
Callie gasped as she peered down at the ring. Agnes had been right. It was the color of her eyes, like it had been made for her.
"Well, try it on." Agnes prompted, and Callie beamed as she obeyed.
"Let's see." Agnes snatched her hand over and inspected it. "Perfect fit. How 'bout that, eh, Cassius?"
Callie's face was sad as she stared down at the ring. She chewed on her bottom lip as she held her out in front of her and inspected it in the light. She smiled at Agnes, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Its beautiful," she whispered as she slid it back off her finger and held it out to Agnes. "But Father would never let me-"
"We'll take it."
Fuck Lykos. Callia had nothing. She didn't have a bed, or one dress that she owned. She didn't have a pair of sandals that were hers. Hell, her hair comb didn't even belong to her. He could give her this.
Callia glanced up at him, and opened her mouth to protest, or speak, or something, but his hand was already in the pouch at his belt.
"Do you have a leather cord?" He asked as he dropped coin in Agnes' hand. "One that will fit around my neck?"
She looked puzzled, but she nodded. She cut a length of cord about the right size and handed it to him. He looped it trough the ring and knotted it.
When he thanked the woman and led Callie away from the stand, he explained.
"I'll hold it for you. Keep it around my neck until we leave here."
She grinned and through her arms around his neck, and he held her close for as long as he dared.
They kept an acceptable distance as they walked slowly back to meet their brothers.
He heard the rustling in the trees along the empty path long before he saw the man stumble out from behind them, sword drawn.
"Where is she?" He voice was rough, like he'd been screaming. Blond stubble covered his face, and his clothes were dirty and wrinkled. "Where is my wife?"
Cassius pulled Callia behind him as he drew his sword. Slowly. Calmly.
"I don't know who the fuck you are. How am I supposed to know where your wife ran off to?"
"His name is Titus." Callie spoke up from behind him. "His wife is Julia. She was my friend before she got sold. She came from Britain like my mother."
She leaned around him to peer at Titus, and he had to keep eyes on both of them.
"She's gone missing?"
"Run along Callia." Titus didn't even look at her. "This doesn't concern you."
"Callia, stay." Cassius pulled a dagger out of the strap of his sandal and handed it to Callie. "I don't know who is in the woods."
He watched Titus. The man was sluggish like he hadn't slept. His eyes were ringed with black circles.
"I just want her home, Cassius. I won't say a word." His jaw clenched. "You can kill as many fucking whores as you want. Just let my wife go."
Callia gasped, and Cassius stilled. "You think the man that's been killing whores has you wife?"
"I think you have her, yes. I know who you are." Titus' body was shaking so hard he couldn't keep his sword arm steady. He looked terrified. "If you don't giveher back, you better kill me now. Because I will find whatever it is a freak like you loves and I'll fucking take it from you."
"Titus, is it?" He rubbed at his eyes, exhausted. He should just slit the bastard's throat and fucking be done with it. "What makes you think she hasn't just run off?"
"It was like when all the other men's wives and daughters been taken. Rope on the bed. Blood and.. Blood and cum on the sheets."
Cassius paused. "When?"
"She was gone when I came home this morning."
She could still be alive. Some of the girls had been missing for over two weeks when their bodies were found.
"Put your sword away. I don't have your wife." He shook his head, irritated. "I've got to take Callia home. Meet me in the center of the market at midnight. I'm going to catch this bastard. Work with me. Maybe we can get him quick enough to find your wife."
The man's body sagged, but he sighed and nodded. "If this is a trick. If I find out you took her, I'll kill you."
"You can try."
She knew the look on his face.
He sat back on the bed, naked, arms crossed behind his head. His cock was hard, thick and delicious and curving against his thigh. Her tongue darted across her lips. She wanted him to force that big cock down her throat until she choked on it.
He watched his slaves bathe her, his eyes dark and narrowed. The tight set of his jaw was in complete opposition to the relaxed posture of his body. His eyes never left hers. His breathing changed, chest rising and falling quicker as he watched the girls later soap slowly over her naked body. His hips rocked almost imperceptibly as one slid her hand between Callia's legs to gently wash her cunt.
He stared at her like a lion watching his prey; ready to strike at any second. She arched her little cunt against his slave's hand and let her head roll back. His eyes narrowed, and a cruel smile spread slowly across his face. She froze. She felt like her heart stopped still in her chest. She knew that look, too. Surely he wasn't..
The slaves paid no attention to the shift in her mood as scrubbed her skin with rough brushes. They soaped her again as her brother watched. Once they had rinsed her, they piled her wet hair on top of her head and began to drain the water as they worked the scented oil and lotion mixture over her clean skin.
Cassius pointed to the fireplace, and she stood there as she dried. The fire was so warm, but her knees were trembling. Her back had healed enough, she supposed, and it looked like her week off was over. He would beat her tonight. She knew it without him having to say it. She was afraid.
Her father had not been kind or careful with her punishment. There was nothing sexual about the violence she'd received at his hand. It had been hard for her; sex, arousal and the state of consciousness that came with it were how she'd learned to embrace pain. That was what Cassius had taught her after her first beating at the hands of some cruel client she'd never seen again. She had a secret suspicion that no one had ever seen that client again.
Her brother didn't speak. He just crooked his finger at her and glanced at the floor beside his bed.
She bowed her head, and stared at the stones on the floor as she approached.
She held her body like she'd been trained: back straight, tits up, ass out to make sure she was perfectly pleasing to the eye. She knelt on her shins on the ground by his bed, just far enough away that when he looked down at her, he could see that every inch of her was displayed. Her shoulders were high, tits up in the air, legs spread open so that her cunt was offered to him. She wanted him to take what was his. Her. She was his.
She didn't look up as he slid off the bed and walked a slow circle around her. His knuckles stroked her jaw, and when her eyes closed, he slapped her cheek. It wasn't a very hard slap; it startled her more than it hurt but she couldn't stop the sharp breath she inhaled.
"Keep your eyes on the ground like a good whore." His hand wrapped around her throat, and he squeezed it. His fingertips dug into her flesh. "Don't speak unless given permission. Nod if you understand me."
"If I tell you to speak, you will address me as Dominus." His hand closed tighter. "Do you understand? Speak."
"Yes, Dominus." She could feel her legs shaking underneath her. Her stomach tightened as he released her throat and allowed her to breath. She nodded as she gasped in a breath.
She struggled just to put one foot in front of the other as he led her to the apparatus he used to restrain her. She couldn't look at it. He'd kept it covered with a bed sheet for the last week because of what she'd gone through. He restrained her hands and belted her waist to the board, and she tried to pull inside herself for the strength she'd gained over her short life. She tried to remember the things he'd taught her, the ways to get herself in the right frame of mind but she was drawing up a blank.
He stroked the curve of her waist, and a small part of her tension eased. Not enough.
Her chest heaved as he adjusted a blindfold over her eyes. She could see nothing but blackness, and she started to shake. The belt chafed against her trembling body.
She relaxed when he touched her again, but just barely. The handle of his whip traced her slit, prodded at her. He squeezed her ass in one hand. His fingernails dug in as he pinched and pulled at her skin.
She was barely wet when he slid the first finger inside her cunt. She could hear him breathing, could feel him inside her, and she finally relaxed into it. This was Cassius, and relief was apparent in her moans as she pushed back against his hand as much as she could. She wasn't allowed words, but she could still let him know it felt good.
He heard his growl behind her as he worked a second finger in with the first.
His fingers fucked her little cunt in short, rough strokes. He pounded them inside her until she could hear the strokes and his shallow breathing. His thumb pressed against her ass hole and she smiled to herself as she remembered just how fucking big he'd felt, how hard he was inside there. Her nipples were hard against the rough wood, and her pussy was soaking wet around his fingers.
She whined softly as he pulled his fingers out, leaving her empty. Her body sagged unhappily; she'd live with him inside her if she could. But then he wrapped his hands around the outsides of her thighs and he dropped to his knees behind her.
She bit her lip to keep from whispering his name as his lips pressed softly against the back of her thigh. She cried out when his tongue danced across her slit before sliding inside her. He prodded his tongue inside her wet little hole, and her entire body shook when she heard him moan. She couldn't see him as he pulled, or maybe pushed, her lower body away from the board. He'd turned around between her legs so that his lips could wrap around her little clit.
Every muscle, every inch of her body screamed as he sucked her clit, soft then rough, soft then rough. He pinched her clit between his teeth at the exact same moment as his thumb slid inside her cunt. She screamed, some incoherent language that didn't exist - one that could only be understood by the two of them. She felt/heard him laugh with his mouth still pressed against her slit.
He moved out from between her legs, and she whimpered. She fought against begging him to come back, but then his body was pressed against hers and he was tilting her head.. To his mouth. She tasted herself on his lips as he kissed her. He held her so close to his body as his tongue explored her mouth, and hers tasted his. He pressed one last kiss against her neck.
"I'm going to whip you now." His hand cupped her wet little cunt as his tongue circled the rim of her ear. She trembled just from feeling his breath on her neck. "Speak."
This was it. Her first beating since.. But it was Cassius. She could do this. She could.
He stepped away, and left her there. She braced herself hard for the first hit, held her breath. Tightened her muscles. Everything the rational side of her knew not to do. But the hit didn't come. He was silent and she couldn't see. She didn't count the seconds, but it felt like she hung there for hours, shaking with fear, anxiety, trepidation. She barely breathed.
The first crack of the whip sounded like lightening. It hadn't touched her skin, but she cried out anyway; her legs buckled under her and only the belt and the ropes on her wrists kept her from losing her footing. Still he didn't speak. Her stomach rolled with nerves and she hissed in sharp gasps. They mixed with whimpers as she hung there, helpless and restrained.
The whip sounded again, and her entire body tensed again to brace for the impact. The sound seemed closer this time, but there was no pain. He hadn't hit her. But he would. She just didn't know when. That frightened her more than knowing it was coming. She hadn't even realized she was crying until she felt the heat on her cheeks.
Anxiety tightened in her chest. She could hear nothing but the sound of her own heart; could think of nothing but the sound of the cracking whip and the memory of what her father's whip had felt like as it split the skin on her back. She felt her tears seeping into the blindfold.
When the third crack rang out and still did not touch her skin, she sobbed out loud. He'd commanded her not to speak, but that was alright because she couldn't form words.
She lost track of the cracks that didn't make contact with her flesh, until she could no longer hear them over the roar of her heart in her ears and the sounds of her sobs. She shook violently, the belt digging into her skin, until she could barely hold herself upright on her feet.
When his whip finally cracked her skin, it was almost a relief. The pain of reality didn't compare to the pain she'd been imagining in her mind and she gasped in a shaking, ragged breath. It may not have been as hard as she was prepared for, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Fire spread across her back in a razor thin line and she gagged as she remembered what she had felt like at her father's mercy when she'd felt the first trickle of hot blood running from one of the cuts on her back. The room she was in should have smelled like soap, lotion, firewood and Cassius. But her mind refused to let her smell anything but metal and blood and sweat.
By the third crack of the whip on her back, the ropes around her wrists felt like metal cuffs.
By the fifth, she could smell the spicy scent of the perfume her father wore.
By the tenth, she was quiet and sagging against her restraints - numb, out of focus; living in a perfect recreation of what she considered her own personal Tartarus. It was all in her mind, and she was left there reliving phantom whip strikes long after the room had went silent. Long after she'd been untied.
Nothing made sense to her, if it registered at all. The soft thing beneath her body. The strong, warm things around her waist. That vaguely familiar voice talking to her from so far away.
The world was still black.
His hands were shaking as he laid his little sister on the bed. He couldn't take off her blindfold - not yet. Because for all the tears in her eyes, there were more in his.
He felt nauseated.
He was sure she had thought he lost control. He hadn't. Every second of what he'd done to her, the sensory deprivation, the fear, the mind-fuck of whipping empty air just because it would terrify her.. He'd done it on purpose. She was in her "dark place" now, something he'd only seen very few times because he'd quickly learned how to avoid it.
And today he'd used that knowledge to take her there intentionally. But not for the reasons she would think.
He'd been beaten. Dozens, maybe a hundred times. He understood it and he understood Callia. This trip, this.. Descent into her own world of personal torment was inevitable.
Tomorrow she would go back to work, and any man who could pay the price could beat her in any fashion they chose. Maybe it would be tomorrow. Maybe the day after. But eventually it would have come to this. And Callia would be in this helpless state, completely at the mercy of a stranger who didn't see her as a girl, a person. Someone who saw her as a toy. This unresponsive, broken shell would more than likely enrage whoever paid for a willing slut. There was no telling what would be done to her then.
But if he was the one to take her there.. He could control how she was brought out of it. He could care for her, make her feel safe.[/]
He kissed her forehead as he untied her blindfold. She blanched, squinted up at blankly for a second before she averted her eyes. Her body tensed, and tried to struggle out from under him. He lifted his arms, watching warily to see what she would do. His chest ached as she stumbled to the edge of the bed, and he reached out to grab her, but he wasn't fast enough.
She fell sideways off the side of the mattress and landed hard on the floor. Her little brain didn't even seem to register that as she pulled herself up onto her knees. In a perfect little slaves' pose.
He crept toward her slowly, so as not to startle her. He sat next to her and pulled her body into his chest. She didn't fight him, but every inch of her body was tensed as he pulled her into his lap. He rocked slowly back and forth as he held her tight against his chest, pressed kisses against the top of her head. He whispered softly to her as he stroked her head.
"Where are you right now, Callie?"
The tiny modicum of relaxation she'd gained vanished. She froze. "Right here, Dominus."
"Look at me," he sighed, and tilted her face to his. "Who am I, Callie?"
There was nothing in her eyes, no light. They were flat, near dead. Blank but for a small hint of confusion.
"You're my master."
"No." He rested his forehead gently against hers as he cradled her body. "Look at me Callie. See me."
She frowned. "I don't understand. Just tell me what you desire from me, Domi-"
He silenced her with his lips on his and stood up with her in his arms. He laid her back on his bed and climbed on top of her, resting on his elbows.
"Tell me my name, my love."
She shuddered underneath him, and when she spoke he could hear the tears in her voice.
"Good girl." He kissed her cheek, the curve of her jaw. He laid his head in between her shoulder and chin. "Who am I, Cal?"
"Um." She swallowed hard and he felt her turn slightly towards his. When he felt her body relax against his, just a little, a bit of the tightness in his chest eased. "My brother."
"Yes." His fingertips stroked her belly, and her head lulled back. "Where are you, Callie?"
"I-in your bed."
"In [i]our bed," he corrected. He moved back on top of her. She was coming back. Slowly, but his girl was in there somewhere. He could see that fire, that curiosity in her eyes. "Our bed, Callie."
The ring, the one he'd bought her at the market, hung from his neck and rested just between her breasts.
"I'm sorry, Cassius." She looked away. "I got scared."
"You have nothing to be sorry for." He kissed her, and this time she kissed him back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Her kisses weren't soft, they were hungry. She whimpered against his mouth as he bit at her bottom lip, and her hips arched up against him. He pulled her up and rested her back against his pillows so that she was almost sitting upright.
"Look at me, baby." He pulled her legs apart and laid between them. His eyes met hers when his mouth was just inches away from her cunt. "Watch me, Callie. Like I watch you."
Even from here, he could see the dried tears on her face. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he spread her legs wider and pressed his lips against her clit. He toyed with her cunt with his fingertips, but didn't slide them inside. Not yet.
He trailed his tounge down from her clit to her hole and back up, watched her eyes almost close as her hips rocked up.
"Don't close your eyes, Callie."
He sucked hard at her clit, and heard her soft gasps. He watched her back arch as he finally slid a finger inside her cunt. She was always tight; her little cunt was perfect. Sweet and wet, and gripped his finger hard as he tasted her pussy. The taste of her cunt was something he couldn't get enough of. He craved it. Now that he'd had her on his tongue he had no idea why he'd waited so fucking long to bury his face between his sister's legs.
"Cassius?" She whimpered, her voice ragged as she pressed her hips up against his face. "I.. I n-need.."
He pressed a loud kiss against her clit. "Yes, my love? Tell me, sweet sister. What do you need?"
"I'm close. I'm.. Oh Gods," she moaned out loud, her legs tightening against his hands. "I want to cum with your cock inside me, Cassius. Please. Fuck me."
He sucked harder as she spoke, her words driving him half fucking mindless. She screamed as he slammed his finger inside her one last time. Yes, she was starting to shake for him.
He covered her mouth with his, catching her scream between his lips as he pressed his cock against her entrance. His fucking hand was shaking, body tight with the need to be inside her. But he teased her first, listened to her beg as he trailed the head of his cock up and down her slit.
"Tell me how badly you want it," he teased, watching her tight little body writing underneath him.
Her eyes widened and she gaped up it him. "I love you cock. I need it. I want to feel it, Cassius, I want to feel it spread my little cunt open and pound inside. I want you to fuck me. I want to feel your cum spill inside me."
He slammed inside her before she'd even finished speaking, and she screamed as her hips back against him. She slammed up, meeting every single thrust. She slammed her cunt against him every bit as hard as he slammed his cock inside her, and it didn't take long. Five thrusts, maybe six, before her words lost all meaning. She was still talking, but he had no idea what the fuck she was saying other than the occasional 'please.' He never slowed his pace. His little sister wanted his cock inside her when she came, and that was what she gave her. He drilled into that hot, tight little cunt even as it trembled around him, got even wetter than before. He tightened his grip on her hips to keep himself from following her.
When she collapsed back against the bed, he slowed his thrusts. Not to let her recover, but to let himself.
"Cassius?" She peered up at him through half lidded, confused eyes.
He buried his cock deep inside her and stayed there, barely rocking against her hips. "Yes, my love?"
She bit her lip and rocked her hips up against him with her little, freckled nose crinkled. What in the hell was she thinking so hard about.
Finally, the confusion lifted, just a little. "Well, I love cock."
He couldn't help it. He never laughed. No one ever made him laugh. But he collapsed on top of her, roaring. That's what she'd been so confused about? He could feel her cunt squeezing around his cock, each laugh making him shake inside her. "Yes, dear sister. I know you love cock."
"No, Cass-" She whined, and tried to stomp her foot - which was awkward and cute considering she was laying on her back. "Let me figure out what I'm trying to say."
He was still laughing softly above her.
"Okay," she blew out a breath, and rocked her hips against his like it was helping her think. "I know that you can love cock. You can love getting fucked. But.. Can you love a person?"
He froze, and every bit of the humor he'd seen in the situation melted away. His chest pounded, his stomach clenched tight with nerves as he stared down at Callia. He studied the quizzical expression of her beautiful little face.
"Yes, Callia." He told her softly. "You can love a person."
"Cass?" She pressed her hips against his and rocked them in small, satisfied circles. His sweet little sister stared up at him with his cock buried balls-deep inside her cunt and smiled. "I love you."
Every muscle in his body tightened, hummed like a bowstring as he pulled out and pounded back inside her. His cock throbbed, ached, and so did he as he pounded inside her.
"Do you, Callia?" He didn't recognize his own voice when he spoke. "How much?"
"Even more than I love getting fucked." She giggled beneath him between her sharp cries as her cunt took his cock.
His hand wrapped around her throat as he drove back inside her, and he watched her choking and bucking under him as he slammed his cock inside her. He lost himself in the thrusts, putting the full weight of his body behind every stroke. Her body rocked backward with each stroke, her head hit the headboard every time his balls slapped against her ass. He'd never fucked her quite this hard, never felt quite like this - this full bodied abandon as he tried to fuck past her cunt.. To fill her entire body up with his. He let go over her throat, pulled her legs up over his shoulder and focused on nothing but her screams and the way her body gripped him. He wanted to make her cum again, needed to hear her scream those words as they came together.
It didn't take her long; that sweet little body started to shake under him. He bit at her calf as he held on trembling foot in his hand.
"Tell me again, Callie. Tell me when you cum on my cock."
She grinned as her hands found the head board behind her, and she locked her arms out straight, pushing her body towards his. He filled her, and when her legs started to shake and he watched his little sister come with his cock inside her, screaming that she loved him.. He fucking lost it.
He wasn't silent when he came either, not this time. He collapsed on her with a long, low growl as he filled her wet, shaking little cunt up with his cum. He couldn't keep his hands or his mouth off her when she collapsed on top of her body.
His lips pressed up against her ear, and he whispered softly words that only she would ever hear from his lips.
"I love you."