Page 32 of Enslaved
Kell summoned house slaves, who appeared immediately even though the hour approached midnight. In a low voice he issued his orders. When they returned, one carried in scented water and towels; another brought a plain brown linen toga and matching head cloth. A female slave stripped the bed of its fine covers while another remade it with coarse-fibered sheets. The slave set down the water bowl and stood waiting with the towel.
Kell said, “Wash your face.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Diana obeyed him.
Kell thought her skin so fine, she was lovely without the aid of paint.
A slave held out the toga. “Remove the magenta silk,” Kell said quietly.
Diana bent to remove the cork-soled sandals, then she flung them across the room. They thudded into the wall with a crash. Then she snatched up the ugly brown toga and flung it after the sandals.
Kell’s hooded gray eyes showed no emotion. He turned to a female slave. “Remove the magenta silk.” The slave obeyed him immediately.
Diana stood tall and proud while she was deprived of her finery. Then like a prideful cat she walked to the bed and slipped between the coarse sheets.
“Leave us,” Kell ordered the house slaves. When they were alone, he spoke low. “Do not be a fool. Give him what he desires. He prides himself on his self-control. I have never seen him lust so for a woman before. Give him what he asks—it is so little. He will be more than generous to you.”
“I cannot,” she replied.
“Will not, you mean. You were so exquisitely lovely tonight, you could have seduced him with the flutter of an eyelash.” When she made no reply, Kell extinguished the torches and withdrew.
Diana lay in the darkness reflecting upon her encounter with the Primus Pilus and then Kell’s words of advice. Cleopatra had gone down as one of the greatest women in history because she had conquered Caesar and seduced the Roman general, Mark Antony. Marcus Antonius—Marcus Magnus. If she were willing, perhaps she could rival Cleopatra!
Kell thought it such a little thing. Even the great Roman himself put no value upon virginity. When she closed her eyes she could see his magnificent body, hard with bulging, rippling muscle. She could see his eagle’s face, so strong, so proud, with the slash of scar from temple to cheekbone making his deeply bronzed face almost irresistible.
She saw the black eyes glittering with lust, the coal black hair curling upon the thick column of his neck, the powerful shoulders and the arms bulging above and below his golden amulets. Diana often lied, but never to herself. As she lay there, she admitted that she lusted for him. She wanted this magnificent Roman general to initiate her into the mystical rites of womanhood. All she had to do was place her hand in his.
And acknowledge that I am his slave,a voice inside her said.Only think,another voice said.No other woman of your time will have an opportunity such as this. Diana, if you are suddenly swept back to your own time and you have not shared his bed, you will regret it for the rest of your life! But how could I return no longer a virgin?
Sleep finally claimed her. After an hour she began to dream. She dreamed that someone had tied her hands to the head of the bed. She struggled in vain against her bonds. The wrought iron symbol of the sun on the bed’s headpiece laughed down at her.Dear God, even in my dreams I am a slave in bondage!
Chapter 10
Marcus Magnus lay naked atop the furs of his great pedestal bed. His massive arms were folded behind his head, his black eyes staring up at nothing. His body was still aroused from his encounter with his new slave. He was a man of great self-control and he willed his body to be quiet.
The trouble was he had been lying here for the best part of an hour, and if anything, his rampant male member grew harder by the minute. Even his sac and testes were taut and aching.
Impatiently he threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. His erection stood up too, all the way to his navel. He cursed and reached for the bell pull to summon a female slave who would ease his body’s lust. He cursed again and let his hand fall. He had no taste for a quick in and out. Tonight he had no desire for any female save one.
He took the small torch that still burned and lit all the lamps in the chamber. His eyes fell upon the wall fresco depicting the gods. They widened as he realized the female’s likeness was painted on the wall of his sleeping chamber. The other goddesses were almost grotesque when compared to this one. Diana of the Grove. Her delicate hand rested upon the neck of a stag. The two females were identical from the golden hair to the long bare legs. Even their name was the same: Diana.
He felt her hand upon his neck; it turned him into a rutting stag. Diana of the Grove wore a tunic that bared one breast. He would order Kell to adorn his Diana in such a garment. He wanted her company at the evening meal each night when his day’s duty was done. Until he tamed her, he would have her seated on the floor beside his dining couch, close under his hand.
Once she accepted her role, he would have her recline upon her own dining couch opposite his, so that she could entertain him with civilized conversation. When she became his concubine, she would share his dining couch, so they could recline together, intimately touching and tasting.
His marble-hard phallus jerked and bucked. He knew if he touched himself at that moment, his seed would spurt forth simply from thinking of her, Diana the Huntress? No. Diana of the Grove? Doubtful. He dismissed the idea that she was a goddess, but the idea that she might be a gift from the gods lingered in his thoughts. Diana the Virgin? He almost spilled!
Had he really been gifted with a virgin? It was highly doubtful. Marcus laughed at himself. It was nothing more than wishful thinking. However, he must thank the gods for this gift! He would make them a sacrifice. He took a small cake of salt from a silver casket and broke it into-the shallow bronze dish. He sprinkled the salt with frankincense and myrrh, then lit the incense in the brazier beneath the dish.
Marcus poured himself a flagon of bloodred wine and lifted it high. Then he rubbed the gold coin, bearing the head of Caesar, that he always wore about his neck. “Jupiter Optimus Maximus, best and greatest, I offer thanks for the gift of the female slave.” Marcus then thanked the Greek god Eros, silently, so that he would not offend the Roman gods.
He quaffed the wine, then splashed some into the bronze dish. “I ask a boon. I ask that she be virgin.” Then he drained the goblet. His blood was on fire, but it was not wine that affected him, it was woman!
Smoldering, aromatic scents filled the air, yet all Marcus could smell was Egyptian musk. She had saturated his senses. He paced about sacrificing his sleep time for visions of her. He gave no thought to the heavy day ahead of him, to the endless hours of training men before their fighting skills were honed enough to send them into the dark wilds of the savage west country. All he thought of was Diana.
If he was not careful, she would become an obsession. Were the gods playing with him, laughing at him? Finally he knew he would have no peace until he learned her secret. Marcus knew he must learn if she was indeed a virgin. There was only one way to find out.
At a certain point in her dream, Diana’s eyes flew open. Perhaps she was not dreaming! All she could see was darkness, but she sensed that someone was there in the room with her. She tried to hit out, but her hands had been tightly secured. So, it was no dream, she was bound in very truth!
