Libertas
Part I
‘Pulvinia Flavia’, Lacrima rolled her lips and tongue around the name, as if tasting it, like savoring some fine wine from Lutetia, not the cheap Etruscan stuff that everyone around here drank, most of it watered down, if you were lucky, if you were unlucky, it might have been peed in.
She caressed the cheek of her former master’s eldest daughter. The girl shuddered. Her eyes big, trying to make sense of what had happened and worse, what was about to happen. She had no clue. She'd been sheltered by her parents from the events that started in Capua and had set fire to the Roman slave population all over the empire.
The Flavii had taken refuge on their expansive farm estate, two months into the chaos and had taken only a small cadre of trusted slaves. . or rather, broken slaves, with them. The ones that they didn’t expect to raise troubles. The rest. .. Lacrima’s son and daughter. . from who knows which father, as the domina had her bred by many a slave, for diversion, for granting favors, for procreation, cause, if you’re equipped with a womb, why not put it to use and make more free slaves, had been sold off at the markets, at greatly reduced prices.
Lacrima caressed Pulvinia’s cheek again, as if it were her own daughters’. She was about the same age. And most likely by now torn open and no longer innocent regarding the ways of men. She bristled at the thought. Her eyes set on Calpurnia. Her domina. She stood quietly, her eyes cast down, as if she were a slave now. In effect she was a slave. A slave to Lacrima’s whims.
They’d drained the impluvium and had turned off the fountain in the middle of the pretty naked water naiad, decanting the water from amphora. The family stood in the middle, their hands tied with rough hemp ropes and their feet tied with shackles to a chain, that was locked around the naiad statue. Good luck moving that or breaking that chain.
The twelve or so male slaves that had assaulted the villa, were sated for now, they had had their fun with the female slaves, who were very much willing to trade abuse visited upon them through the domina to some form or semblance of agency and had fucked themselves senseless on the rampant cocks.
The family had been powerless and made to watch. Lacrima had joined in. But now that that part was done, she was tempted, not yet sated, and wanted more. She wanted revenge. A reckoning. For all the hurt she’d been put through. All the hurts and pains her children were being put through right now, probably in some seedy tavern or whorehouse, if they were even alive. Some abuses you don’t survive. Some abuses break people, especially kids. She looked at Pulvinia and Marcus, her younger brother and made up her mind.
She picked up a paring knife from the fruit bowl that was still on one of the side tables and walked to Calpurnia in a straight line. The other slaves saw her and didn’t stop her. They just were watching at whatever was about to unfurl. Calpurnia herself assumed she was about to die and simply bared her throat, so the knife would find easy purchase on her arteries and it’d all be over soon. When Lacrima moved the knife to her throat and then turned it, Calpurnia didn’t understand at first. Until she felt her expensive dress being sliced open at her chest and her breasts tumbled free.
It wasn’t like the slaves hadn’t seen those before and even if the attacking slaves were males, Calpurnia didn’t feel especially bothered. If Lacrima wanted to humiliate her by making her die in the nude, well, she could bear that burden. It’d only slightly prolong the inevitable. Lacrima kept slicing, down and further down. She didn’t finish the cut, but rather left the formerly expensive dress in a haphazard state, causing anyone who wanted to, to be able to have a look inside, whilst leaving Calpurnia no way to re-establish her decency.
Flavius was fuming at the side, but knew when not to push his luck. He assumed a sword would find his throat, heart or inserted through the neck next to his spine, soon. Or poison. Sometimes the slaves used poisons, he’d heard. Some simple, some complex. Some fast acting, some agonizingly slow. A thought crossed his mind, the tiny jar of cantharides was still in their bedroom. .. but he dismissed it. They wouldn’t. Not like that.
As his eyes passed over his family, he saw Marcus being a bit too interested in whatever the clothes of his mother were no longer hiding. It wasn’t like he’d never seen naked women before. He was being bathed and cleaned by female caretakers who were all naked, but his mother held a certain allure. Flavius understood that, he’d been young too. Whatever was veiled and out of reach and forbidden, held allure. Temptation. As he considered that, his eyes strayed to Pulvinia.
Lacrima moved to Pulvinia as well. Three quick slices of the paring knife undid her dress and she was standing there, for all the world to see. She quivered slightly. Flavius wasn’t exactly sure, but it looked her pudendum was swollen and moist. She’d never been to an orgy before and having seen the slaves and attackers getting it on, must have inflamed her mind. He himself, wasn’t unaffected either. His toga hid some of the tumescence, but for the discerning eye it was there. And it was getting harder to hide, as seeing his wife and daughter being put on display as such, stirred something in him, that he tried to deny, but couldn’t.
Marcus was having an even harder time. He was breathing fast and his pecker was making his tunic stand on end. A dark spot was forming where his glans rubbed against the smooth fabric. Flavius realised neither of his kids were crying or seemed upset. The funny thing was, he wasn’t upset either. Death either came or not. There’d be some discomfort as was to be expected now that the revolt had reached their house. But well. .. such is life. He’d had a good run. He looked at Calpurnia and felt she was at peace with ending it all like this as well.
It felt weird. It felt even weirder, when Lacrima cut open his toga and pulled out his member. It’s not like he’d been shy in his attentions towards the female or even male slaves and so it wasn’t weird that he was being touched in such a way. He’d probably been touched like that in either an erotic or totally not erotic way thousands of times. She pulled him forward, not ungently, by the penis. The chain tied to the shackles on their feet, didn’t allow for much freedom of movement, but still he came forwards about two steps.
He assumed she was about to slash his throat or humiliate him by belittling him or something similar. She didn’t. She surprised him. She started stimulating him, making sure he was hard. As he was already halfway there, it didn’t take much effort or time on her part. When she was satisfied she pulled in a field chair and sat him down. His prick stabbing the air. Flavius looked at her questioningly, not sure about what was her intent. And then Lacrima moved to Pulvinia. Who’d been staring at her father’s cock as if hypnotised and slowly moving the palm of her wrist over her clit, in an as unobtrusive manner as possible, hoping no one would notice. Lacrima had noticed.
She pulled Pulvinia closer and pointed to Flavius cock. ‘Want to have a go?’ She asked, again, not unkindly. Flavius’ eyes bulged. ‘No. Not this. Just kill us and get it over with. There’s no need to do this. She’s my daughter. She shouldn’t. It is wrong. The gods will surely punish us. Don’t ruin our chances for our afterlife. Not this!’ He begged furiously. His daughter disregarded his begging and set her hand on his cock. And started stroking as she’d just seen Lacrima do. Flavius felt the lubrication welling up from deeper inside his crotch and realised he didn’t push away Pulvinia’s hands when he started begging. He could have. He hadn’t. He just begged. In the meantime his body and his daughter betrayed him.
Continued in part II