CHRONICLES OF WORMSFORD, A.D. 62 - THE ROMAN AND THE REBELS

BY NAP

Note: This story is a fantasy for adults only. The author utterly condemns any form of actual abuse - physical, sexual, psychological and emotional - to any person of any age.

Centurion Gaius Lucius Martello waited in the woodland on the other side of the river crossing from the village. It was a typically Celtic affair: a haphazard collection of roundhouses surrounded by a flimsy stockade to keep wild animals out and domestic animals in. In their barbarian language it was called Ath-Na-Durrag - "the ford of the worm". It was appropriate enough, he mused, as the river wound its meandering way like a writhing serpent. It was early morning; soon it would be time for the inhabitants to open the gate in the palisade to go about their day's work in the surrounding fields. The moment they did, he would attack with his force of legionaries, half of whom were on the other side of the river ready to assault the opposite gate and ensure no one escaped. He was expecting little resistance. The warriors, their wives and older children had all joined the bloody rampage that had marked Queen Boudicca's rebellion against Roman rule, leaving behind only the old and the young of the village. He was here to exact revenge for that impertinent revolt that had started when an unwise Roman official had flogged the queen and raped her two young daughters. The chieftain Maelgwyn and his followers were beyond Rome's retribution, their bones were now whitening on the battlefield where Boudicca's forces had been routed by the Legions, but their unlucky children would now be taken and sold as slaves

Martello thought back to when he had last been here as part of the bodyguard of the Roman envoy. Then Maelgwyn had sworn perpetual friendship, which was why this revenge attack was so necessary to teach the Celtic Britons the importance of loyalty! He remembered Maelgwyn's two young daughters, red-haired Brigid and the fair Rhonwen. His cock stirred in his leather britches. They would be no more than eleven or twelve now, very lovely, proud and haughty with just the beginnings of feminine curves showing beneath their brightly coloured plaid gowns. Well, they would learn submission to the will of Rome this day!

The gate on the other side of the ford creaked open, pushed by an old greybeard whose last task on earth it would be. Martello signalled to the trumpeter, who gave a great blast on his horn and the legionaries charged across the shallows with a roar. There was little resistance. The old were ruthlessly cut down - they were valueless as slaves - and the children and any halfway personable women driven like sheep to be penned.

Martello himself ran to the largest roundhouse with its own palisade enclosing a court as befitted a chieftain. The gate was more for show than defence and he broke it down under his armoured weight. He forced the door of the roundhouse in the same way and charged into the dim interior. Immediately he heard a high screech of hate and rage and he glimpsed a redheaded fury hurtling towards him with a long knife in her outstretched hand. He hardly had time to twist his body and the blade scraped over his segmented cuirass. He punched his assailant hard in the belly and she went down with an "oomph" of suddenly expelled breath. But already Martello was turning to counter another attacker, this one a fair virago swinging a hatchet. He moved quickly towards her and, as she brought the axe down, grabbed her arm and used her own impetus to hurl her somersaulting through the air to crash to the compacted earth floor next to her sister.

Both girls lay stunned and Martello took advantage of their daze to pull off their brightly chequered gowns. They struggled feebly at this, but could not resist. His eyes greedily took in their nude bodies, pale in the gloom of the roundhouse. As he had expected, both girls had attractively budding breasts, but were yet to sprout body hair and their sexual parts were utterly bare. While he took in their nudity, the girls were striving to recover, gasping and feebly moving their limbs. Martello grinned and grabbed the girls' braided hair, red and blonde, and dragged the screaming girls from the murk of the roundhouse into the daylight outside.

He saw that his men were working with the typical disciplined efficiency of the Roman Legions. They had rounded up the surviving villagers and separated the women and youngest children from the rest and kept them on one side under guard. The remaining boys and girls were herded together and were now mostly stripped. While some of the soldiers completed this entertaining task, many of the others were breaking down the palisade for lengths of wood that other men were fashioning into crucifixes.

These were not the great crucifixes commonly used for the execution of criminals throughout the Roman Empire, but miniature crosses suitable for torturing the small bodies of children. They were being made in various sizes suitable for the age range of those to be tied to them - from around five to fourteen. Some of the denuded brats were already being tied to the cross arms - no nails here: they did not wish to spoil potentially valuable property. For the same reason, the children's toes just touched the ground - the usual cause of death on the cross was eventual suffocation as breathing became impossible for the suspended criminal.

Martello watched with amusement as a burly legionary bound a small boy's wrists to the bar of a crucifix and then casually handled the young lad's genitalia, squeezing his balls and playing with his immature penis until it rose to its full two or three inches of erection. The soldier then seized a recently denuded little girl and tied her to the same cross with her back to the boy. This done, he reached behind and pulled apart the girl's small buttocks, then getting hold of the boy's insignificant cock manipulated the tip into the girl's rectum where it wedged, struggle though both children did to remove it. The girl's writhing became even more energetic when the soldier began playing with her naked quim, making the boy wriggle with a different emotion.

Next to this entertaining spectacle, another grinning legionary was tying a girl with a fat, full bottom so that she faced the cross. Martello guess that the man was intending to beat that plump rump for his pleasure.

Martello eased off his armour and gave permission to his men to do likewise - they would not wish to be encumbered for the day's entertainment! He ordered a man to guard his two particular prisoners and told another to make two sturdy crosses slightly apart from the others. Having issued his commands, he moved among the captured children and examined them more closely. They were valuable stock, these brats, and should fetch a good price if he did not allow any over enthusiastic squaddies to damage any. He had already issued orders that no maidenheads were to be broken. The brutal soldiery could rape the mature women all they pleased, but virginity was a precious commodity and not to be given away unnecessarily. Welts and bruises would soon heal, however, and nobody would care about an enlarged arsehole, so there was plenty for the lads to enjoy without sticking their cocks up any juvenile cunts.

A few children were crying or pleading, but for the most part they were silent and trying to be brave, meeting their fate with the fortitude and disdain that was so much a part of their warrior culture. He smiled with a mixture of admiration and contempt. These Celtic brats' spirit would have to be broken if they were to make good - and therefore valuable-slaves and he intended starting the process right here and now. They were a good-looking lot too, he noticed; healthy and well fed. Recent harvests must have been good and the village had made money trading with the Romans. Well, all that was gone now, but physically fit slaves always fetched a good price.

His eye was caught by a fair-haired lad of about thirteen. He was a physically fine specimen, just reaching puberty to judge from the few fine blond hairs that grew at his groin. His cock was bigger than any other boys' too: no doubt it always had been even before its recent lengthening. He wondered that he had not been taken on the military expedition. Perhaps he had been a particularly precious youngest son, or maybe puberty had begun just a little too late. Whatever, he was too good to have been wasted in the slaughter of battle. Martello took hold of the boy's penis and masturbated it. The lad's wrists were bound behind his back so he could not fight back. The boy resisted with grim determination, but the surging force of adolescence soon raised his cock to full firmness. It was quite a weapon, Martello considered, bigger than that of many a man already even though it had certainly not yet reached its ultimate length. He might end up bigger than Balbus - "the bi ggest prick in the legion" as the other men jokingly called the rather stupid soldier.

Martello glanced around and spotted a pretty, honey-haired child of about seven. He grabbed hold of her small-boned wrist and hauled her over. He pushed her face towards the boy's erection. "You, suck him," he instructed in Celtic. He had an ear for languages and unlike most soldiers, he had taken the trouble to learn the basics of the tongue of the local population.

The girl shook her head in horror. "He is my brother," she said.

"Just do it, sweetheart before I get Balbus here to shove his meat right up your little arsehole," Martello said. "Balbus," he went on in Latin, "show this kid your monster." Balbus grinned good-naturedly, unlaced his leather britches and pulled up his tunic to reveal his dangling fleshy extremity. "Typical", thought Martello, "Balbus must be the only man in the company not to have an erection." But the little girl seemed to get the message all right anyway, and bent her head to her brother's cock and began to suck. The men closest cheered. It never did morale any harm to join the men's fun.

Meanwhile, the crucifixes were being filled according to the men's liking. Some had only a single occupant, some were engaged on both sides, others had two kids on a single side variously arranged - face to face, back to back, face to back, back to face, same sex, opposite sex - every combination according the whims of the coarse soldiers.

Martello heard a roar of ribald laughter. He turned and saw semen spilling from the little girl's mouth. The boy was obviously a quick spurter for all he was her brother. "You should swallow it," he said sternly in Celtic. Then in Latin to the soldiers, "Truss her up to a cross for a good whipping."

Martello returned to his own two prisoners. The crosses were well made. "Tie them on," he ordered.

"How do you want them, sir?" asked a legionary.

"Facing forward. They can watch their friends and neighbours being tortured for a while before I get on to them!"

He watched as red-haired Brigid and fair-haired Rhonwen were bound struggling to the crucifixes, then turned to review the scene in front. About half the children had been crucified now; the others would be kept back for the time being for the men's carnal amusement.

The honey-haired little girl was tied with her arms stretched wide to a crosspiece and her feet bound to the bottom of the upright. She would not be able to move at all to escape the lash. Balbus, still grinning good-humouredly had found a length of leather from somewhere. He looked at Martello who nodded permission. The brawny soldier swung the strap and it cracked loudly against the child's tiny buttocks. She jumped in her bonds but did not cry out. Of course, these kids would have been beaten since infancy he realised. They were well used to pain. "Lay on hard," he shouted to Balbus. The soldier obeyed orders. The little girl's bottom was soon covered with the overlapping welts of the strap and her defiant silence was broken by a wail of pain - the first of many. These increased in stridency and volume as the lashing continued. The little girl's bottom and legs were burning with bands of bright shades of red. She was screaming non-stop now. Her bladder had already burst and drenched her feet with piss. But still Balbus obediently beat the wretched child's squirming bum.

"Enough," Martello called. This was not mercy, but simply sense. He did not want his property damaged either physically or mentally. Besides, the men were getting restless, eager to start on their own favourites. "Very well, men," he called, "take your pick and do your worst. But no fucking remember, or I'll have your balls for slingshot!"

They laughed at that and got to work. He was surprised how many men picked boys, but he supposed that if you had to make do with mouth or bum, it really didn't matter much which sex you picked at the ages of these children. And of course, on long periods away from female company they may have acquired a taste for male camaraderie.

He saw several men arguing over the fine-looking lad with the big cock, but they peacefully settled ownership with throws of the dice. The man who won forced the boy to bend over ready for buggery. He greased the lad's arsehole with tallow while he released his erect pick from his leather britches. The boy struggled and squirmed, but his firmly muscled bum cheeks were parted and the soldier entered him, thrusting brutally.

Of the men who initially chose girls, many picked those at or near to puberty, so that they had many of the attributes of women - breasts and in some cases, pubic hair - but at least as many soldiers chose younger, or even the youngest, girls. He saw a dark-haired child of no more than six struggling to suck the cock of grizzled veteran old enough to be her grandfather. She was presumably doing it all right though as Martello saw him shoot great gobbets of semen into her face.

He wondered how many men might be bitten. There were plenty of children here today into whose mouths he would not risk his own cock, including his own two prisoners - at least, not without precautions. Most of all though, it would be the young Big-Prick, as he had nicknamed the handsome lad. He noticed that the first to take that boy's bum must had already shot his load as his place had been taken by another legionary - presumably the highest loser in the dice game. If so, there would still be a good few in line for that pleasure. He wondered what would happen to the boy. He was just too old and too bold to be broken to slavery. Probably he would have to be castrated to tame him for service. This seemed something of a waste, but he was likely to be a wild stallion if he was not gelded.

He saw a young soldier slobbering over one young girl's cunt while masturbating over the face of another. A brawny brute was almost smothering the small body of the girl he was buggering. A very tall legionary was sucking the tiny willy of a boy only a little over half his size. A bulky, pig-faced man was swearing violently in Latin and using wild gesticulations to indicate he wanted a slender ten-year-old girl to put her tongue up his bum. She was shaking her head in a mixture of horror and mystification.

There was a deep roar of pain. So, one of the men had been bitten. A sturdy young boy of about nine was dragged to a vacant cross. If the men had their way they would pull his teeth out, but that would devalue the boy's worth as a slave. He ordered a severe beating with bundles of birch rods. That should discourage all but the most hotheaded spirits among the captives. The beating began and the boy's strident screams came soon after. He doubted anyone else would find a taste for Roman cock!

Other screams rang around the village, blending with those of the biting boy, as many of the men looked for new pleasures now that they had satisfied their immediate sexual urges. The legionaries were generally cruel to their captives and the recent rebellion by the Queen of the Iceni had shaken their morale as the island province had at one time seemed likely to be overrun. So unsurprising that they should now wish to demonstrate their dominant power on the bodies of these children. He noted that the man he had earlier seen had tying the fat-bottomed girl to a cross was indeed taking great delight in beating her resilient flesh while she shrieked. Many others were following his example and all around boys and girls were being lashed with leather straps or birch and willow wands.

Some of the children who had originally been tied to the crosses were now being released, but only so that their bodies could be abused on the ground by the insatiable soldiery. Their places were taken by those whose bodies had already pleasured many men and who would now suffer the torment of crucifixion. However some of the legionaries did not bother to take down children before sexually assaulting them, but brutally used their bodies as they hung on their crosses.

Martello looked at the scene of the sadistic orgy with a smile of satisfaction. It would do the men good to have this release from the period of pent up anger and alarm when the Celtic revolt had spread death and destruction among the Roman settlements. Now they could enjoy their revenge.

And so should he! He turned his attention back to the two young daughters of the rebel chieftain. Their arms were stretched along the crossbar and tightly tied. Their tiptoes just touched the hard earth. Between head and toes, their bodies were taut with the physical stress of their position. Their bellies were hollowed with strain and every rib showed. Their legs quivered with the tension of supporting their weight on the point of their big toes, the alternative being to hang agonisingly from their wrists.

But they were not only suffering physically. Their eyes - green for Brigid and blue for Rhonwen - showed the torment of fury and fear they felt as they watched the cruel debauchery before them, for there was no slackening in the men's depravity as each excess led to another even more wanton. And now, when they were again the focus of the Roman centurion's attention, they knew that their turn had come.

Martello turned to the guards who had continued to stand by with patient discipline despite their eagerness to join the general licentiousness. They were rewarded now. "Go and tell Balbus to bring the lad with the big prick here, and tell Golbo to attend me too. Then you can start having fun of tour own."

The men grinned and hurried off excitedly. Golbo was the youngest recruit in the company. Eighteen years old, and thin as a javelin, he was spotty, clumsy and stupid - not much good as a soldier yet, but he'd be perfect to humiliate these two arrogant Celtic aristocrat brats.

Balbus arrived grinning good-humouredly as always - not that that would stop him torturing the children, of course. With him, he dragged the boy, Big-Prick. The lad's robust body was marked with red lumps where many impatient hands had bruised his young flesh. His eyes still blazed defiance, but he now walked stiffly - no wonder, as he must have already been buggered at least ten times. Martello wondered how often he'd been forced to shoot off as well. He hoped the boy had something in reserve, but guessed that such a fit and healthy lad just coming into his sexual prime should be able to produce plenty of sperm whatever the demand. On this count, Martello was reassured to see the lad's long, dangling penis rise to its full impressive standing size as he looked at the nude bodies of the two young girls, no doubt he had admired the untouchable daughters of his chieftain all his life. In contrast to this superb physical specimen, the gangling Golbo trotted over - all unc oordinated arms and legs. His eyes took in the naked crucified captives and he gave a wet, slack-mouthed leer of pleasure.

"Set up a cross for the boy Big-Prick," he ordered Balbus and the soldier set to work while Golbo guarded the prisoner. Soon, the new cross was ready and the boy was hoisted up and tied on. He still maintained his impressive erection and as his cross had been planted in front of them, the two girls could not avoid seeing it any more than he could turn his eyes away from their juvenile charms.

Martello turned away from his new companions and looked instead on the attractive bodies of his prisoners. The red-haired Brigid was the elder, he remembered, although in height and weight there was little difference between them. However, Brigid's breasts, though still small, were slightly more developed than her sister's, being well shaped, firm and uptilted with pert nipples. The slenderness of her waist was emphasised by the enforced concavity of her stomach. Below this, her hips broadened, a sign of the imminent onset of puberty, while between her rounded thighs her bulging, full-lipped sexual slit was conspicuous. Her legs, long and slender in any case, had their length exaggerated by her stretched pose. Facially, Rhonwen was the more beautiful; Brigid had a mass of freckles on her pale skin, whereas the blonde Rhonwen's creamy complexion was clear and fine. Below a long, slender neck, Rhonwen's newly formed breasts were two small mounds, though with dark aureoles and protruding nipples. Her hips were not as broad as Brigid's, but although the redhead had plump, round buttocks, Rhonwen's cheeks were fuller, firm and protuberant. Her thighs were more slender than her sister's, though her sexual cleft pouted just as prettily between them.

Martello smiled; the two girls were still doing their best to show noble disdain and defiance, but they must be starting to realise the helplessness of their changed position, not just for now, but for always. They had moved from being the privileged daughters of a prominent local chieftain, to a future as the unimportant property of the highest bidder. But for now, their purpose was to suffer and while so doing to give pleasure.

To demonstrate his power and their vulnerability, Martello reached out and tweaked Brigid's nipple. She jerked against her bonds, but he merely pinched the other, twisting it cruelly so that she gasped with pain. As he released it, he saw the blood beneath the skin flow strongly back swelling and darkening the full tit tip. He caressed her breasts, more gently this time, in a parody of affection. Her nipples rose and hardened, her inexperienced body answering the dictates of nature. She twisted her head from side to side in an agony of humiliation at her body's betrayal.

Martello left her alone and turned to Rhonwen. Without warning, he gripped both her tiny breasts, digging his fingernails into her nipples and twisting cruelly. Despite her courage, Rhonwen squealed with pain. Martello took his right hand from her left breast and slapped her face hard. And then as her head swung sideways under the impact, he backhanded her other cheek

"Leave my sister alone, you shit-faced Roman!" Brigid screamed in rage.

For answer, Martello slapped Rhonwen again, the bright redness of his handprints standing out on her pale cheek. Her blue eyes brimmed with tears, but she struggled to remain bold against his assault. Martello grinned. He would break her - break them both - of that he had no doubt.

He reached out and started to play with Rhonwen's cunt, rubbing beneath her belly and fingering her slit. She squirmed at this sudden change of attack. He touched her where he willed, rubbing the very top of her slit above her piss hole. She felt a sharp lance of pleasure surge through her. He had found that special, secret spot that she and Brigid had discovered when they were about nine or ten and had played with ever since. Her chest heaved as her breath came short and sharp. She could sense that tiny nubbin of flesh rising from its enfolding hood of tissue and his fingers stimulated it harder now, making her writhe in exquisite agony. His other fingers moved to her lower lips. She was becoming damp, opening to his touch, outer lips and inner becoming erect as they parted for him. She moaned as much with humiliation as awful pleasure.

Continuing to stimulate Rhonwen's warm, wet quim with his right hand, Martello moved his left between the thighs of Brigid. The redhead twisted this way and that, trying to close her legs against his invasive fingers. But a command to Golbo brought the teenage soldier to stand behind the girl's cross and hold open her thighs. Now he could explore her more intimately, and he did. She managed to resist more than her sister, but she too was eventually overwhelmed by her pre-pubertal body's deepest desires. Her clitoris ultimately surrendered to his searching fingers and came out stiffly from under its protecting hood. Her labia too oozed the slippery juice of submission as they opened, as if gaping in despair at their own frailty.

Before he should bring the girls to orgasm, Martello took his hands from their cunts. They were not there to be given pleasure after all, and a level of sexual frustration would add to their torment.

"Turn them around," he ordered the two legionaries. They looked confused at the command, so he enlarged, "Untie the girls, turn them around and tie them again." Trust him to pick the two stupidest men in the company! But they did the job quickly enough despite the girls' furious struggles, and soon Martello was presented with a pair of superb girlish bums. While they had been tussling with the girls, he had equipped himself with a length of thick leather that he made even thicker by doubling it so that it was a formidable implement of punishment. Despite their attempt at a determined show of defiant impassivity, the girls could not help looking over their shoulders to see what they were going to get. Well, they would find out soon enough! He noticed that the boy's big cock had stretched it self even longer. Perhaps the lad liked to see girls whipped? Why not? He did!

He looked at the waiting sets of buttocks. Both pale, unmarked, perfect. He did not doubt that they had been beaten before - what child had not? - but he was sure they had never before been lashed as he was going to lash them. He lined up on Brigid's bottom first and swung the heavy leather hard. It cracked against her plump bum and the flesh compacted under the blow before springing resiliently back into rounded shape. A red bar appeared on the pale skin. He swung again. A second red weal, partly overlaying the first sprang across her cheeks, and then a third. The breadth of the strap meant that her young bottom was covered in colour already. He continued laying on the leather and the girl began to jerk and then cry out as blow, succeeded blow. Soon her little buttocks and thighs were a mass of inflamed flesh and she was screaming loudly. As he went on flogging her bottom, the front of her body bumped against the upright as she jerked and writhed to escape the per sistent lash of leather. Like the little girl earlier, she lost control of her bladder and a stream of urine splashed against the pole and streamed around her feet. Still he kept on whipping her until she sagged wretchedly for the moment overcome with agony.

He left her and turned to Rhonwen. She had had to suffer the additional torture of witnessing her sister's beating knowing that she would have hers to come. Well, she was right, and now she was going to get it. The fair-haired child's beautiful buttocks were soon receiving the most savage flogging of her life - up till then! The pale skin of her superb buttocks soon disappeared beneath wide stripes of mottled red that darkened all the time. Her legs were punished too, and she danced against the pole in a desperate, but futile effort to escape the cruel kiss of that leather tongue. Like her sister, she howled and called to every god for protection and revenge, but it did no good - the beating continued. She did manage not to piss herself; perhaps she had been fortunate enough to have relieved her bladder earlier. If so, it was her only piece of good fortune on that day.

Martello finally wearied of flogging the girls, but their ordeal was far from over. He ordered that Rhonwen should be turned around again. This time even Balbus and Golbo understood. The younger girl was repositioned on her cross. She screamed loudly as her sore and swollen bottom was pushed against the rough wood of the upright pole. The redheaded Brigid was then untied from the cross, but her hands bound behind her back. She was taken over to where the boy hung on his cross. His cock was still as stiff as ever. Brigid looked a mess. Tears, snot and sweat stained her face, and her eyes were wild with panic and pain. Martello pushed her head down towards the boy's big prick.

"Suck it," he commanded, "and make sure you swallow his seed."

It was indicative of the effect of the brutal beating she had sustained that Brigid did not show any rebellious spirit but immediately took the boy's big cock in her small mouth and sucked away as hard as she could. As before, with his little sister, the boy quickly reached the point of orgasm and exploded down Brigid's throat. She managed to capture most of the creamy stream, but a few drops fell to the earth. Martello let it go. He did not wish to flog her any more today unless he had to.

Brigid was tied back on her cross and it was her turn to scream as her inflamed and bruised buttocks scraped against the pole. Rhonwen was then untied and was led over to where the boy was stretched on his crucifix. His cock, which had been drooping, slowly rose again in the presence of the girl. She needed no instructions, but bent her head and took him in her mouth. He took a little longer this time, but even so, it was not only a short while before a fresh fountain of semen spurted up into Rhonwen's mouth and, as she swallowed convulsively, down her throat.

Rhonwen was re-tied and Brigid again taken from her cross this time she was forced to kneel on the ground. Martello called Golbo over and told him to take out his cock so that the girl could suck. He did so eagerly, being too stupid to think she might bite him, which, together with the fact that he was the least valuable soldier in his company, was why Martello had chosen him. Martello himself knelt behind the girl and cruelly parted her battered bum cheeks so that he could bugger her. As the girl cried, Martello managed to push his cock up her bum hole. This was now the test of her submission. Golbo presented his long, but thin, cock to her lips and she opened her mouth and took him in. He came straight away, which was not surprising in view of his youth, inexperience and the great stimulation. Martello took longer before he shot a stream of semen into Brigid's lower bowel.

So, Brigid had passed the test, now it was Rhonwen's turn. She got to suck the colossal cock of Balbus. Martello reckoned he could do his duty a second time, and presented his prick to Rhonwen's arsehole. This time everything took longer, but eventually each man filled her at his own end.

After this, the girls were returned to their crucifixes. In the main part of the village a few of the men were tiring of ill-treating the children, but many continued to abuse them in every way. Martello left them to it. He was satisfied.

He looked around him. This village would be destroyed, of course, but it was a fine site with good farmland and woodland all around. He had a considerable sum set aside in the care of the merchant, Piso. With what he would make from loot and the sale of slaves in these punitive expeditions, he would have enough to retire. He would build a house - not like these primitive Celtic hovels, but a villa in proper Roman style with all the conveniences of civilisation - a bathhouse, proper latrines, under floor heating for this island's cold, damp climate. He would use slaves to till the fields and care for his livestock, and be a prosperous and idle landowner. And Piso had a daughter, a pretty little thing of nearly thirteen and ripe for marriage. He imagined Diana's supple young body writhing under his and his cock stirred again. Yes, and her father would pay a fat dowry for Diana to marry a man of property and importance. And maybe he'd keep that pair of Celtic sisters as his slaves too, they were beautiful when they had not been savagely beaten.

Yes, he was certainly satisfied.

Remember: Real children are precious and fragile. Please always treat them with kindness and respect.