INTERLUDE SIX
What I had revealed to
the man I cared for more than any other was vicious… but it was, sadly enough, not untrue.
Aerus had seen me twice
before our night together: Once he was at a celebratory feast where I was
presented to a trio of Roman legionaries that I might entertain them for a
time. Despite the fact that their commander had spent only enough latinum to
secure me for an hour-and-a-half (which was still a tidy sum, I assure you),
it's my opinion they got their money's worth. Cleverly, these three agreed to
share me for that time, rather than simply continuing to quarrel over which got
the first session. I had thought the conflict rather silly, I must admit: It
wasn't as if the first would be deflowering me—even for the day.
That, however, was not
the extent of their imagination or their... enthusiasm. They used me rather
thoroughly for the ensuing span; midway through, one of them suggested to the
others that I—excuse me, there's no way to put this delicately—could accommodate
all three... simultaneously.
I had been hoping to
avoid that.
They were common
soldiery: No doubt they'd saved the life of their officer or performed some
other act of heroism or great deed. They'd then performed what they probably
thought was another one for me.
All I shall say about it
is that I
was much less grateful at their… service…
than their commander had been.
The second time I
encountered Aerus, some weeks later, we were at a Solstice celebration, and I
was, along with an attractive young male slave, a component in what the
chatelaine called a “sexual sculpture.”
I spent almost three
hours bent into a crouch, hands placed primly on my knees—while my rather well
endowed “lover” penetrated me from behind.
It was one of the few
times I felt sorrier for my counterpart than I did myself: He was warned
beforehand, within my earshot, that reaching climax within me, or at all, would
result in his death after the guests had departed.
The reason given, you
ask?
They didn't want us to
make a mess, and spoil everyone's appetite.
I did what I could to
help him, contracting no muscles and distancing myself from the act as much as
I could... and by that point in my life it was at times quite a ways, let me
tell you. I saw him only that one occasion, but know his fate.
My partner made it only
20 minutes... and our hosts looked quite displeased at having to replace him;
it ruined the “sanctity” of the act, I overheard.
He, though, was less
pleased than they were.
Of course, no matter how
pleasant the preliminary, how solicitous the man, my evenings always ended the
same way—whether I wished them to do so or not. Unlike most women—who, in my
opinion, either squander or abuse the right—I could not simply stretch, yawn,
and say, “Oh, dear, it's late. Thank you for a wonderful evening. Good night.”
My time with Aerus was
no exception... but I bore it much more easily than most.
I danced, sang… and we
talked—really talked. To his credit, he assumed I was a woman of intelligence, and
seemed pleased I didn’t disappoint him. We even played chess once… though he
won, I caught him frowning a few times, and heard him whisper, “Clever girl,” more than once.
When he took me to bed,
I wasn’t dreading it in the least.
He disrobed, and I
examined him with the clinical detachment of my profession: He had a true
soldier's body, hard and strong, bearing a few impressive scars.
He made love more
directly than he did most things, from what I could tell. His caresses were gentle,
and not unpleasant. I liked and admired the man, and thus allowed his touch to
excite me somewhat.
That was more than I
gave most of my clients—when in full control of myself, that is—though I'm
certain not a single one ever knew it.
He had impressive
endurance, too. His short, sturdy cock was twice employed to good, protracted
effect. Once, he laid me beneath him, and the second time, put me astride. He
had treated me with genuine respect, and I wished his male pride to be as
satisfied as I knew his body would be. Thus, instead of putting off the climax
that started to build as I rode him, I encouraged it, allowed it to crest and,
finally, envelop me.
It was quite a good one,
actually.
His smile was proud...
but also pleased for me.
He has a kindly heart—at least to women.
Still, I wish I'd not
said what I said. It was not something
My life has been one of
unfulfilled wishes, and I do not imagine that will change.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight Chapter
Twenty-Nine