Preface: Despite my best efforts to keep things short, Act IV sprawled and kept sprawling and Spurtacus wouldn't take no for an answer.
I might have to chop things up differently and insert more raunch. per act / per part. For now I'm focused on finishing the story and once it's done, I'll look into better parity between chapters.
Spurtacus is a whodunit meets Swords and S(c)andals, with plenty of naughty bits of course in about 7 (or more) acts. Think Bridgerton meets Spartacus with twice the amount of raunch and some other bonus cleverdicking for the people who manage to pick up on it.
Last time in Spurtacus we've seen that the Empress Messalina charging our Hero Lucius, to find Spurtacus, a legendary slave gladiator with a certain prowess who’s creating trouble in the noble families because the roman matronae lust after him and his “gifts”.
In this act we see how his investigation, into himself, for he, Lucius leads a double life, and his double is none other then Spurtacus himself. .., fares.
Spurtacus
Act IV
A gladiator cell in a ludus far from the bustle of the imperial palace, close to the arena’s. Shafts of light penetrate the musky and sandy darkness. Suppressed noises of rutting are evident from the cell at the end of the hallway.
He was annoyed with himself. He had the perfect distraction. The soft arms and the suppressed moans of Aemilia Clitia and her tremors and shudders of joy would have and should have distracted any man, moreover him. He found pleasure in seeing his partner of the moment experiencing pleasure. It’s what made him spurt instead of dribble. But it wasn’t happening.
As per Empress Messalina’s orders he’d posted a gaggle of girls around the Palatine and in the other expensive neighbourhoods. Making it a mix of hits and misses as if he were too accurate, it’d draw suspicion, and unfortunately the same or worse was true for if he was too incompetent. Then the task would or most likely could be given to a more competent and thorough colleague of his.
Who’d uncover him. It brought him down. His ardor was only half there. As was his mind. ‘You’re distracted today?’ She whispered to him. He had to think fast. ‘My master is considering selling me off to Genua.’ He kissed her mouth that opened in horror and then her eyes. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t let him. I’ll figure something out.’ A look dawned on her face. ‘I could ask my husband to buy you?’ ‘As what? I’m assuming he’d have me castrated first.’ Another look of horror quickly glid past her face.
He nodded. ‘Yeah. Let’s not do that.’ He slid down and as he did so, slid out of her. She complained. Not long though. His tongue found her. Her complaints changed to suppressed praises. A hand was was clasped, not ungently, over her mouth. The other one kneading her breast. As she came, he became hard again. And re-inserted, whilst she was in the throes of her orgasm. It drove her insane. Her insanity was infectious. ‘You want it inside or outside, decide fast, three strokes left, at most. ...’ He managed to grunt out. She pulled him out and let him spray on her chest. It was hot. For both of them.
As they both cleaned up, Aemilia tried to abscond with his loincloth. Spurtacus performed mock disbelief. ‘You’d steal my only earthly belonging? Knowing my master will have me whipped for losing that?’ She gave it back with a fright in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m just. . if he sells you. .. how would I remember you?’ She hugged her face in his chest and inhaled his scent.
She was crying softly. He caressed her cheek and lifted her face to his. ‘Remember this.’ He kissed her passionately, their tongues entwining. And then quickly disengaged to gird his loins once again, smirking at her. She smiled back and started dressing herself.
‘Same as last time?’ She asked. ‘Yes. You go first. I’ll exit a bit later from the other door on the opposite side. It should work. Despite the Empress’ spies keeping an eye on you. Just make sure you actually buy something from the market, so as to not return home emptyhanded after having spent well over an hour shopping according to your story. .’
Aemilia nodded and then retreated into the dark. The veil on her face hid her identity. The other slaves could only tell the from general cut of her dress and it’s fabric and vibrant colours that she must be rich. But couldn’t tell who she was and who she’d met. That cell was supposed to be empty. They weren’t sure why their master kept bringing them here for half days and not doing anything of worth.
Lucius waited for a bit and then rummaged around on the bed. The bed linnen that were in disarray hid a set of flat packed freed man’s clothes. And a tiny key with only one flange, that could open the lock. The lock itself was of no consequence. If he lost the key, he could most likely break it with his bare hands. It was different from the other locks and bars jailing the other slaves. The deal he’d made with the lannista was lucrative.
Aemilia had left him a gift once again. An amulet. For protection. It was good craftmanship. Shame to melt it down for the metal, but still, that’d fetch a handsome price. It’d pay partially for the continued use of the cell and the trouble the lannista went through for parking his slaves here for an afternoon or nightly visit. They’d stopped asking questions. They knew the drill by now. No questions would be answered anyway. No way to glean the identity of either him or his female visitors. And well, it was free time. They could just sleep. Or jerk off to the sounds of them fornicating. Whatever floated their boats.
He exited the underground cells from the other end and leisurely walked to the taverna, drinking a cup of mulled wine and a glass of goat’s milk, simply to replenish his fluids. Whilst he enjoyed that, he could keep an eye on the door that he entered through. If no one followed him in after he’d finished both his drinks, he’d exit through the side door, which was perpetually open, as it led to one of the latrines nearby and allowed the owner to get rid of drunken clientele faster.
He’d then duck into the alley and walk two streets down, walk casually into another taverna and eat his customary piece of bread with fresh goat’s cheese there. And leave his freed man’s clothes in a closet he was renting the use of and appear outside in his regular city gear. Showing he’s a praetorian guard, but leaving the ostentatious plume for his helmet and whatnots stowed in his backpack. Together with the scroll from the Empress.
The fates conspired. Just as he was walking out, a Roman patrician saluted him. He recognised the face. It was the Empress’ father. He saluted back and managed to make his face into a friendly smile. ‘Ah Lucius. What fortune to run into you right here. Are you still posted at my daughter’s door? I feel so much better knowing that no harm can come to her with a capable Praetorian like you protecting her.’
Lucius confirmed that he was still at that post and actually currently about to return to duty as they met. ‘Oh, I shall not impose on you further then. .. or well. . if you’ll allow me, I see, we’re just three steps from the lemon cake vendor that my little girl adores. Could I impose on you to bring a sample of those to her, from her doting father?’ ‘How can I refuse any request from the Domina’s father?’ Lucius agreed jovially and walked with him towards the stall he mentioned.
As Marcus handed him the cakes, carefully packaged in a festive bundle that must have cost at least as much as the luxury sweets, Lucius realised that the only way to bring that through the bustle of downtown Rome, was to put it in his backpack. If he held it in his hands, it’d disintegrate before he’d taken five steps. He was walking alone. If he’d be walking in a squad the thuds of the marching would keep other city folk at bay. Alone, he’d be bumped and ground into continuously.
But. . the backpack, the scroll was right on top. With the seal facing upwards. Marcus would instantly recognise the seal of his daughter. Would he want to know what it was for? Ask questions? Assume it’s an official writ and Lucius is supposed to deliver it? Ask questions to the Empress next time they met. And thus divulge where they met.
All these questions went through Lucius’ mind as he slowly opened the backpack and Marcus solved it simply by proffering the box to him, without even laying his eyes on the contents of his backpack. Lucius did a quiet yet fervent prayer to Fortuna. As Marcus proffered a hand to shake Lucius’ he amically accepted the gesture and even grabbed it by the forearm as if they were old comrades from the army. As far as he knew Marcus had never served. Old roman nobility somehow only did officer duties and even that usually in very calm theaters. Never at the cutting edge of the seething and especially bloody borderwars.
He made a point of walking off towards the Imperial Palace, whilst quickly trying to figure out a way to get a message to Valeriana Cassia. He needed her to know that he’d be late. Perhaps even change the venue. Which would be hard at short notice. But a perfect excuse as he could say he saw people loitering at the holding cells.
Which led to the question: where to go? Where could a slave supposedly get out to, with or without his master knowing or approving. A medicus? To help calm an injury or ache that wouldn’t go away? Or a bath house? On the other side of town? On a late hour, when only people who wanted to revel in each other’s company and weren’t there to socialise and recognise and see and be seen by others? Her ancilla would of course insist on accompanying her. But she could also dress down and them entering together would lower suspicions instead of raise any. And he could simply have his muscles tended to by a slave, whilst they entered, so it wouldn’t look like he was looking for her.
This’d work. He looked around and saw a small slave girl, around 9 years old. ‘Hey you, you want to. ..’ The girl ran. He forgot, wearing his Praetorian outfit, scared the living daylights out of most citizenry. Let alone low class slaves and kids. He stepped smartly and removed himself from the onlookers who just had seen him addressing a girl who fled like she was guilty and looked around again when he was removed enough from the previous debacle.
He decided to change his approach. When he found a courtesan type of woman, he asked her if she could provide a trustworthy messenger for him. He’d be willing to part with a sesterti for her troubles. And the messenger would get one for carrying the message. A young girl was put forward, told to be very smart and very good at remembering messages and then instantly forgetting them. Lucius nodded. He looked around and bought a small knickknack from a market stall and gave it to the girl.
‘Please deliver this to Domina Valeriana of the house of Cassia in the Palatine section of the city. Her ancilla won’t allow you near her of course, so simply deliver the message to the ancilla. Tell them that tonight’s appointment needs to be changed. We’ll meet at the public bathhouse across town. At the second hour past sunset. I’ll be having a massage there. For my calves. They should come dressed down. Not in full regalia. Got that? Repeat it back to me?’
The girl nodded and repeated it back verbatim. She was holding back a question. He realised. He didn’t tell her his name. So it’d be a message from a praetorian who didn’t name himself, but was known to Valeriana. That’d lead back to him. Think fast Lucius.
He added: ‘We also need to discuss my costume. The cinches are pinching in places and need adjustment. Hopefully it’ll be fixed before the play next week. Love Rufus.’ The girl repeated it back without prompting and then accepted the coin gladly. He showed her another coin. ‘I’m giving this to your friend here. If you return to her and confirm you’ve given the message, the coin is yours. Otherwise it’s hers to keep.’ He looked at the courtesan. ‘And I’m trusting you to be classy enough to not rob a young girl of a sesterti. Your rates should be considerably higher to not be tempted.’ The girl nodded eagerly and was on tenterhooks to run to deliver her message. He let her.
Things felt like he had them back under control. Now he just had to deliver the lemon cakes to the Empress and give her a report of his days findings. Cause she was bound to ask. Spurtacus wondered if all the hassle was worth it. He felt a very slippery spot inside his loincloth. His body had decided, it was worth it.
Getting closer to the Imperial Palace, Lucius attached the plume and made sure his Praetorian regalia were correctly attached, oriented and shiny. He saluted the outside platoon and went into the labyrinthine back passages for staff that led to the Empress private quarters. When he entered her ancilla stopped him, with a simple gesture. ‘Domina is taking a bath. You’ll have to wait.’ ‘Let him in, Sabina. He can avert his eyes chastely, whilst giving me his report.’ Sabina rolled her eyes at her mistress’ suggestion pointed to his eyes and then her own. Eyes on me, the gesture said.
Lucius knew and walked in backwards, without bowing, making sure his eyes were constantly on Sabina. He stared ahead blankly and started off: ‘Domina Augusta, I’ve started my investigations as instructed. It’s been hits and misses. Whilst I was near the gladiatorial pits, I ran into your honored father, who asked me to deliver some fresh honey cakes to you. They’re in my backpack, perhaps your aide would care to take them out. I’m afraid that if I move, she might in her haste do violence to me, to protect Domina’s dignity.’ He smirked at Sabina. She scrunched her eyes back at him and casually moved her hand past a short dagger. A crime for other slaves to hold weapons. For her, an assumed responsibility. She’d die, before she let anything untoward happen to her mistress.
‘Yes, yes, please, Sabina, if you’d be so kind, you know I love those honeycakes.’ ‘Of course mistress.’ ‘You said hits-and-misses. What’s your best guess for now? Is that just because of lack of time, or are the matronae cooling their heels and ardours somewhat and seeing sense?’ ‘That’s hard to gauge Domina. If these were prisoners, we could torture them. I’m assuming that’s currently not yet on the table.’ ‘Drusilla could use a couple of. .. no, wait, ignore that. I didn’t say that. Repeat to me what I didn’t say?’ ‘I’m not to touch Drusilla of the house of the Juniae, despite her being richly deserving of a dressing down, which is an assumption totally made by me and not in anyway inferred by my Domina.’ ‘Excellent. Yes.’
‘Domina? If I may speak? Openly?’ ‘Yes, if it’s about the investigation, please feel free to consult me in any way necessary.’ ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to catch any of them red-handed or rather in flagrante delicto. These are Roman Matrons. I might be able to tail one or two of them. I might be able to discern a pattern of weird behaviours. But catching them in the act, they’ll have trusted allies. Like Sabina here. I’ll never get close before a warning has reached them, before protocol has dragged out the time required to make an escape. I can’t produce the scroll each time, it’s a one time weapon. And if I foil it, it’s power is lost, gone, used up. And though I appreciate the trust given to me by you, I’m afraid I might not be able to live up to your expectations against the political power of these women.’
‘You are right. I’ll have to think on this. Please for now continue the spying mission and perhaps turn down the importance of the capture. You’re excused. And thank you for bringing this to my attention and the honeycakes. They’re scrumptious. Please let Sabina hand you one. I’ll remember you to my father next time I speak to him to confirm receipt, so he thinks even higher of you. For now you’re dismissed. Report back at your earliest convenience.’
The outer perimeter of the private quarters demarcated a peculiar territorial line. This side of the door was the house and Sabina was in charge. On the other side of the door the Praetorians were in charge of security and safety and the word of a slave, even the Empress’ personal body slave was mud. When he passed the door, Sabina’s whole demeanour changed to servile. Lucius’ chest inflated slightly.
Titus greeted him with a nod. Lucius had trouble placing his stand in, next to him. Vipsanius. That was it. He’d borrowed him some grease a while ago for his straps. They were drying out and getting brittle. He looked down and saw they were shiny. The recollection of the short shared moment, made both of them smile. Sabina closed the doors to the inner sanctum behind her and Lucius guessed that she was back to her lording it over the others inside again, glad to be rid of the likes of Lucius.
He realised his backpack was still inside and assumed Sabina would still be standing guard in front of the actual bathroom, so he’d walked in. Sabina was nowhere to be found. He heard three female voices laughing inside. He recognised two from earlier. The third one he didn’t. He hadn’t noticed a third person inside. She must have literally held her breath or breathed into a cloth or something for her to not be noticed. Breathing through a reed whilst remaining submerged maybe?
‘I’ve been watching him, but keep losing track of him. He’s good. Definitely not careless. But I’m not sure it’s because he’s our man or because it’s because he’s our man.’ The Empress laughed at the joke. Sabina joined in the mirth. The unknown woman added: ‘He’s got a nice ass, you got to admit. I understand why Lavinia fell for him. All that marching and standing guard, does help the glutes. .’
Raucous laughter erupted again.
Lucius didn’t dare betray his presence. His backpack, didn’t have anything incriminating inside. He’d pick it up tomorrow. And now he had to get his ass to the bath-house. Whomever the woman was who was keeping an eye on him, if she was sharing a bath now with the Empress, she’d never be able to follow him that fast.
And definitely not with how he planned to get out of the Imperial grounds. He suddenly felt a need for a hot very naked bath with his comrades in arms in the barracks. Whoever she was, walking in there as a woman would draw attention. Usually very much unwanted attention for women. Walking in a room of hot and bothered men tended to have that effect. Most women would steer clear. And the ones that didn’t, knew what they were signing up for.
When he was jovially clapping cheeks and avoided a couple of too eager tugs that were likely to cause embarrassment, he scanned the room. And saw a servant woman covered in soot and dirty clothes, removing one of braziers. He’d never seen any slave doing that, whilst the bath was in use.
But well, he supposed it must happen. He didn’t recognise the slave woman. Her features were marred with soot, tar, her hair covered under a scarf, her eyes obviously downcast. If he wanted to confront her, it’d require explanation. If he wanted to pretend to want to have his way with her, it’d draw attention. Who in his right mind would want to fuck a girl, covered in soot, when you just bathed and were clean?
And what if it wasn’t her. He couldn’t go questioning and interrogating every woman he saw. The only thing he knew for now is that she was a woman and sounded Roman, not foreign. And perhaps had a good eye for rumps and a wicked sense of humour.
Was it worth it to turn this into a battle of wills? Titus’ appearance, since his shift had ended, gave Lucius another reason to draw out his bath. He clapped him on the shoulder and asked how Vipsanius was holding up. The servant woman had disappeared along with the brazier whilst Titus momentarily blocked his vision. She couldn’t have moved that fast with a still smoldering brazier. Slaves didn’t move that fast, lest they bump into someone causing a mess.
When another of his brethren was moving out and obscuring the sight line to the missing brazier momentarily with his humongous buttocks eclipsing his field of vision, the missing brazier had been replaced. By a slave who wasn’t anywhere in sight. Naked men aplenty. No soot covered female slaves. .. Lucius felt hunted.
‘Titus, I’ve heard of this new slave girl doing massages in the public bath.’ Lucius made a rude gesture when saying the word massage. ‘And if I go there alone, my mother will never forgive me. Would you be my chaperone? To guard my chastity?’ He fluttered his eyes at Titus as if he was some kind of innocent lass, unfamiliar with the ways of this raunchy world. Titus laughed uproariously. ‘You’ll have to pay me. And let me have a go too of course.’ They clasped hands and walked out of the baths. With Titus keeping an eye on his back, even passively, whatever tricks the woman pulled, would not just stand out to him. Four eyes meant a lot more surveillance.
The massage was nice, the girl he’d made up, didn’t exist, and he pointed another pretty one to Titus, giving her the customary coin for her services. Closing the curtain behind Titus, he went to the small curtained chamber next door to see an older female slave standing there. His eyes twinkled. Valeriana had received the message he’d sent to what now felt like an eternity ago and had arrived early. And was wearing her ancilla’s clothing. Her ancilla was looking at them and nodded. The coast was clear. He closed the curtain. And went to work. A soft sigh, definitely not male, escaped the curtain.
Valeriana’s ancilla had even thought of that and started singing a song. She had a nice voice. And good rhythm. To lick and fuck to. Lucius grinned to Valeriana. She nodded enthusiastically as he started disrobing her. It didn’t take long.
He latched on her breasts. They were his favorite. Valeriana despite having given birth to two healthy sons and one daughter, had managed to keep them sensuous. He didn’t know the mechanics. They didn’t sag as much, was all he could say when forced at sword point to describe them. He crept lower and kept massaging her tits. And found elysium. She was ready for him. He need not have started the cunnilingus. He still did. He saw what it did to them. He saw that their husbands would never deem to consider the thought. The slaves or male prostitutes that she made it do, did it out of fear of punishment. With him, it was different. He wanted it. He devoured them.
And the clear lust and sensation of overwhelming urgency in their faces when they orgasmed, often and loudly so, was what drove him mad. He had no trouble getting hard. But when he managed to get one of them off like that, it was like there was actual steel inside his penis. And the intercourse was so much sweeter. It always felt like his foreskin was pulled tighter, despite there being plenty lubrication. It was as if the orgasmic clenches never stopped once they started. He knew he was skilled. If only it was a marketable skill. Not in this society unfortunately. Well, perhaps that Empress. . She liked his buttocks, he’d heard. ..
‘What are you smiling about?’ Valeriana asked as she clasped her legs around his buttocks. ‘Well, that. Exactly that.’ As he pointed to her legs and his buttocks underneath. ‘They’re popular I’ve heard being said.’ She blushed. He made a Roman matrona blush. They were so cute. Worse then young girls in a way.
The sudden self-awareness didn’t stop him from working his magic and soon both of em were flying high on Eros’ blessings. He did manage to clamp his hand over her mouth. He’d had enough practise doing that move, even with his mind in an addled state. These girls tended to get loud. They’d get thrown out of the bath. And draw attention. She understood. And writhed underneath him, gently chewing on the inside of his hand. Her legs still trembled. His did as well.
Titus knocked on the flimsy wall between them. ‘I’m done. You’ll have to forego my chaperoning. I think I’m in love.’ Valeriana barely contained her burst of laughter and Lucius buried his face between her breasts. ‘Go. Go brother. I’ll catch up with you later.’ he managed to mumble out from where his face was hiding, laughter bringing him close to tears due to Titus’ unknowing and unfortunate timing and lack of self awareness.
‘Does your master allow you to walk the streets alone? Isn’t he afraid you’ll run away? Or get captured?’ She looked at him hungrily, a plan taking form in her head. ‘We’re in the taverna right across the street. If I get captured between here and there, well, what kind of gladiator am I then?’ Valeriana saw opportunity rise and fall and looked crestfallen. ‘You can have me each time I can get a day off. I know it’s not enough, but it’ll have to do. For now. Perhaps one day things can be different.’ She nodded quietly, wiped away a tear forming in the corner of her eye and kissed him hungrily. He returned it and got ready for whatever came next.
Continued in Act V