TRIBUNE VENGENCE
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Archive;'Tribune Vengence #1'{Mikhail Conrad}( MM slow )[1!3]
This is a story set in the days of Imperial Rome. I've tried to be accurate, but if you do find any historical mistakes other than literary liscense with the language forgive me and mark it up to fiction. Comments are always welcome: mikhailconrad@yahoo.com
TRIBUNE VENGENCE
Chapter 1
Garrit raised his bound hands to his lips and wiped at the congealing blood on them. He flexed his body and felt the soreness all over from the beating he had received at the hands of the Decanus and his eight legion soldiers. How was he supposed to have known that the seductive bitch was the wife of a Tribune? The troops had burst into his cottage just at the moment he reached his orgasm and began to spew his seed in her tight needy quim. Everything after that was a blur. The legionaries had beaten, drug, and kicked his naked body the whole three miles back to their outpost on the Rhine. He was thrown into a cell in a ten foot deep trench covered by barely hewn logs that let the light of the dying day leak through between the chinks. It stank of urine and excrement. The smell wasn't nearly the problem that being in the hands of the XXII Primigenia, known as Fortune's Twenty-Second Legion was.
The Legion was known for their cruel and demeaning actions all across Germanica. They were in disgrace for having supported Vitellius in the recent power struggle for the Imperium. When Vespasian came out on top, it left the Twenty-Second out of favor and they were made to suffer for it. In turn they passed it on, taking their hostilities out on whomever happened to be available and at the moment that was Garrit.
He didn't have long to wonder about his fate. Before the blood had dried on his face, the trap door was opened above him and a pole ladder came through it. He was ordered to climb out and he managed it despite his injuries and bound hands mostly due to his finely honed body that he had developed throughout his twenty-four years culminating in his appointment as a forester. He had probably been responsible for the timbers that made his prison as well as the pole and spokes that made the ladder. As he came up through the opening, he looked around to see the same Decanus with just four of his men awaiting him.
"Get your plebe ass over here!" the Decanus ordered him brandishing his gladius.
Sweat broke out across his naked bruised body as Garrit stepped off the ladder to stand before the minor officer. The man swung his short sword and Garrit let out a sigh and closed his eyes, determined not to flinch in front of these men. He might not have been a member of the Legions, but he was a free Roman citizen and he was resolute in his determination to show that no free Roman was a coward.
"Open your fucking eyes plebe!" the Decanus ordered as he swung the blade precisely through the rope that bound Garrit's hands, "It's not up to me to take your pathetic life. Tribune Marius has commanded your presence. You're probably going to wish I had cut your head off before he finishes with you. Put this on."
The officer grabbed a garment that one of his troops was holding and shoved it at Garrit. It was a standard issue slave tunic of rough spun wool. Garrit raised his aching arms and slid it over his head grateful to at least be able to cover his nakedness. Not that he had any embarrassment about his body, but because he felt a bit less defenselessly exposed with the covering.
"If I took you in front of the Tribune with your phallus swinging between your legs, he might just slice the object of his shame off in a fit of anger without thinking," the Decanus told him with a tone of cruelty, "This way I'm giving him the chance to make you suffer for thinking you were good enough for a Patrician's wife. Maybe he'll give you to the Quaestionarius for torture and me and the boys can have a show."
At the mention of the Legion's interrogator, Garrit shuddered. Brachus Caltoris was well known for his abilities to carry a man to the edge of his pain endurance and keep him alive for more of the same for many days. His first thought was to rush these soldiers and force them to kill him, but his second thought was inspired by his curiosity; he wanted to see this Tribune in person. What kind of man was this Marius Albus that his beautiful buxom wife would seek the embrace of a lowly forester over his? Garrit decided he could always seek death at the hands of the soldiers later after he satisfied his curiosity.
He was escorted over to the largest building in the fortified complex and through the open double doors past the guards and in through the arch into the large central main hall. The Tribune sat on a backless chair on a dais at the far end with one of his Centurions standing by his side. A dozen legionaries stood guard around the platform.
As he approached the stand, the Decanus gave him a shove and sent him sprawling on his face on the hard limestone floor before the richly carpeted wooden dais. He moved to get back to his feet and a booted foot came down on his back pinning him to the floor. Garrit turned his head and watched the Tribune stand and walk over to the edge of the platform and loom over him.
At five-eight Marius was tall for a Roman. Garrit's Germanic heritage had given him a much larger frame than most Romans, but the Tribune was just an inch shy of the forester's size. By comparison, the Centurion that joined him only stood a mere five-four, but that was a respectable height for a Roman officer. The Tribune had all the features of a noble Roman birth, aquiline nose, dark wavy close cut hair, muscular arms and calves that showed out of his elaborately embroidered tunic. All in all Marius Albus was an almost perfect specimen of the Empire. Garrit couldn't see any physical reason that his wife would choose a blonde barbarian looking plebe over him. It had to be something else. Maybe he was cruel to her, or perhaps his male member was inadequate.
"Is this the forester we talked about?" the Centurion asked the Tribune.
"Yes," Marius answered, "Name of Garrit. He has quite the reputation for spreading his semen all across the local area. Word has it that he's fucked every available female he can get his hands on and a good many of the boys as well."
"That long blonde hair belongs on a prostitute," The Centurion stated, "But at least he keeps himself clean shaven like a proper Roman citizen."
Garrit took the opportunity of the two men conversing to inspect the Century officer. The shorter man was built like a block. From what Garrit could see revealed in the garish military uniform, the man's muscles had muscles. His neck was as thick as a bull's and his thighs caused the bronze plates on the skirt of his tunic to bulge outward at his sides. He had a Patrician nose and it had been broken sometime in the past and bent slightly to the left. His grey eyes looked intently at Garrit as the two men talked about him.
"Bind him," the Tribune ordered the Decanus who had his foot wedged into the forester's middle back, "Just his hands in front of him. And then leave us, all of you except for you Varrus. Draw the curtains behind you."
Garrit was hauled to his feet and his hands were once again tied securely at the wrists. The soldiers all filed out the archway and the Decanus let the ties go on the drapes to either side of them as he exited. Garrit was left standing facing the dais with only the Tribune and the Centurion looking down on him.
"You're a slave now Garrit," Tribune Marius informed him with a smirk and waved his hand vaguely at a scroll rack by his stool, "The papers have already been signed."
"But I didn't know..." the forester tried to explain.
"You didn't know!" Marius interrupted him with a scornful voice, "That she was my wife? I know you didn't know that. But surely you knew she was a noble. Her attire alone would have told you that. I made sure she was dressed accordingly. Or perhaps you didn't know that she seduced you on my orders. You think you're here for fucking my wife? No, you're offense to me is a whole lot more than pumping that nympho's slit. I let her get her fucking fill of any prong she wants as long as she doesn't conceive and I knew she wouldn't with you. She's missed her menses for the last two moons. She's already with child and I know it's mine. I always keep her dripping full of my seed when she's fertile."
Garrit looked at the Legion commander with shock and confusion. He didn't know what to say. There was more going on here that he didn't know. The Centurion continued to stare at him like he was already on the auction block at the slave market in Mogontiacum.
"You're a god's cursed fuck fool Garrit," the Tribune said laughing, "You want to know why you were set up like this with plenty of witnesses? I'll tell you, you ignorant fuck. That was my son you buggered at the stream last week you shit. You shoved your rod up MY SON's backside and sent him home with your scum leaking out his plebe fucked hole. You could have fucked any of his slave boys, but instead you chose to rut up his hole. I'LL NOT LET ANYONE TURN MY SON INTO AN EFFETE BUTT BOY! That's why you're where you are now, a slave, a piece of property for me to do with as I will. That's one ejaculation I'm going to make sure you live to regret."
Garrit remembered the boy. He came across him with his three slave boys bathing at the stream near his cottage. Well it was apparent they were there to bathe, but what Garrit saw when he walked into the waterside clearing wasn't bathing. The good looking Roman boy had one of the slaves draped over a large rock outcropping and was plowing into the moaning boy's buttocks with abandon. The other two slaves were stroking their rods beside them. One of the slaves caught site of Garrit and after a few seconds realized his interest. He motioned him over. The two of them had Garrit stripped bare in no time and began to worship his large cock with their mouths, paying particular attention to his huge mushroom head. The Roman boy continued to pound his slave's hole and smiled at Garrit over his shoulder. The boy was just too pretty. In fact now that Garrit thought about it, he favored his mother considerably.
In a moment of lust, the forester stepped up behind the boy fucking his slave and began to run his hands over the young man's humping ass. He hocked up a wad of spit into his hand and smeared it between the boy's cheeks making sure that most of it slicked up the hole between them. The boy didn't slow down his thrusts into his slave at all, but took longer strokes making his puckering sphincter rub erotically over Garrit's fingers. On one outward fuck stroke, Garrit pushed his long middle finger into the quivering hole. The boy moaned his pleasure and Garrit jerked his finger out of the warm chute and drove his hard nine inch tool viciously into the opening his finger had just vacated. The Boy screamed in pain and lechery as his warm anal cavity spasmed around Garrit's manhood.
The forester plunged the remaining length of his fuck rod into the boy forcing him to plant his own buggering pole deeper into his slave's rectum. The boy yelled out in ecstasy as he unloaded his creamy seed into his slave's well fucked hole. The clutching grasp of the boy's orgasm driven anal ring sent Garrit over the edge and he shot a series of salvoes of his own thick sperm deep in the boy's bowels.
Just as Garrit recovered enough to draw his long member from the boy's well filled anus, the young Patrician looked up at the sun. He appeared to be late for something and in a short time was dressed in his finery along with his slaves and left quickly headed toward the river fort. Garrit was left bare assed, phallus slowly shrinking dripping the last drops of his copious load on the ground between his feet. He got dressed and continued on his way, stopping to tie a cut marker on appropriate trees as he went. The boy had been a decent fuck, but Garrit never realized it would end up like this.
"I can tell by the look on your face that you remember the incident," Marius stated, "When my boy got home, he joined me for our weekly luncheon. When he lay down to recline on his dining couch, his anus let loose with a loud wet flatulence. It was apparent to me and all of the domicile slaves attending us that it was semen that was oozing down his thighs from his nether hole. It didn't take me more than three questions to his slave boys to get the whole tale and your description and part in it. So now it's my turn for some satisfaction."
Garrit looked up at the man and saw his anger. It wasn't like the Tribune's son had protested the buggering and turned him in, the boy had actually worked his sphincter to milk his prong of it's erupting juice. The boy had taken his big piece so well that Garrit knew he wasn't a virgin to being man fucked. He had just been the one to get caught and was bearing the scorn for the boy's submissive actions. Patrician class Romans placed great emphasis on their masculinity and that of their sons. To them it was all well and good to be the fucker, but never would they let it be known that they took it in the backdoor for fun and enjoyment. It was just too passive a behavior for the ruling elite.
"I'm turning you over Centurion Varrus here for penury actions," the Tribune informed him, "I think you'll find your time with him educational and quite unpleasant. He has the most submissive pleasure slaves I've ever encountered. Would you like to show me a bit of what you have planned for the forester, no I mean slave now Varrus?"
The blocky Centurion stepped down to Garrit and gave him a malicious grin. He delivered a brutal fist to the new slave's sternum causing Garrit to double over as his breath was bludgeoned out of his lungs. The Legion officer tripped him and shoved him back down on the stone floor. The forester found himself wheezing on his hands and knees as his tunic was jerked up around his neck and twisted to choke him around the neck making it almost impossible to fill his lungs with the air he desperately needed. His legs were roughly kicked apart at the knees and he felt the body of the officer shove his way between them. Bare rough fingers rammed their way into his butt crack and dug rapaciously into his exposed anus. Garrit let out a scream as Varrus forced his four dry thick fingers into his chute. The burning knife cutting pain didn't end there. The Centurion pushed forward with his hand driving Garrit flat onto the cold stone surface and forced the first part of his hand into his rectum. He felt the assailant's thumbnail gouging at the tender skin of his perineum.
"OH GODS, PLEASE STOP," Garrit wailed in agony and followed it with another scream.
Varrus released his grip on the choking fabric of the tunic and punched him in the kidney. Garrit screamed in pain again. He could hear Tribune Marius snickering in delight above him.
"Beg me to fuck you slave!" the Centurion ordered the violated man.
Garrit groaned around the agony in his asshole and back and didn't respond. Varrus pulled his thumb back and wormed it into the shuddering man's anal hole beside his other fingers. He then drove his arm forward and breached the wracked opening with his knuckles eliciting another scream from Garrit.
"Beg for my hard phallus up your chute or I'll shove my arm up in your worthless hole to the elbow and then yank your innards out," the Centurion told him maliciously.
"Please fuck me..." Garrit whimpered as he started to cry from the agonizing torture that Varrus was subjecting his dry tormented rectal muscle to. He heard Marius laughing over him.
"Please fuck me what?" Varrus demanded pressing his fist harder against Garrit's sphincter.
"Please fuck me master," Garrit gasped out as his vision started to dim from the pain.
"Give me a week," the Centurion said to the Tribune as he callously jerked his hand out of Garrit's flaming shit hole.
"Take him away then," Marius ordered, "And Varrus?"
"Yes Tribune?" the Centurion answered.
"Next time I see him I want to see him leaking sperm from his fucking hole," the Tribune demanded, "Lots of it."
"As you command Tribune," Varrus answered as he grabbed Garrit by his long flowing golden hair and dragged him from the hall.
TO BE CONTINUED
ONCE UPON A TIME,
There was this person who had a few very good, most assuredly magical, skills with a computer and the internet. Now this person also liked to have some personal fun with an erotic story every now and then. But alas, the type of stories the person sought were few and far between and they were difficult to access because of the evil dark powers of the wicked Council of Censorbitches. The person knew that there were many erotic writers out in the mystical realm of the World Wide Web, but they had problems posting their feel good stories because the Censorbitches would descend on their postings and desecrate them with vile slashes, malicious blackouts, and even... YES!... horrid deletions. Well the person decided to fight against the uncanny hate-mongering Censorbitches. The person made an enchanted place within the mystical realm of the World Wide Web and named it Nifty. It was free from the loathsome pernicious deeds of the Censorbitches and at last writers of alluring erotica could set their creations in a place of safety. As with all good things it came with a cost. Many long hours of magical programing were required to keep the enchanted place Nifty secure and accessible. Many more hours were spent in the exchange of the small marvelous packages of electric information called bits that made up the enchanted place. The person withered and languished spending all their mana maintaining the enchanted place Nifty until one day a minor wizard made a donation and enhanced the magic of the person. Stories flashed into existance that had never been seen before! And so I send forth this missive across the mystical realm of the World Wide Web. Help the person maintain their mana and fight against the dastardly atrocities of the Censorbitches by making your own donation to the enchanted place Nifty. You can access the magic portal of giving at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html