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She slipped on her sandals and followed Awen along the corridor past the other bedrooms, the one where Rufus slept and on to the room at the back, the one with the mosaics and altar to Felix’s gods. Bethan had discovered during her first week at the villa that there were many gods for many things. While her people had only one fertility god, the Romans relied on several. She wasn’t sure why.
Felix’s temple lacked a priest, but it hadn’t put him off transforming the space into what he believed was essential for his rituals. As she entered the room, she smelt the scent of flowers displayed in vases while candles flickered and produced their own sweet aroma. At the far end of the room was a stone altar with a solitary lifelike statue of a goddess mounted on it, surrounded by more candles. Felix waited by the altar. In front of him was another slightly lower plinth, which was covered with fur.
The spectacle he’d created wasn’t a shock. She guessed some time ago that her purpose was to be his vessel. However, how many tingles and flutters could her body produce? From the nape of her neck down to her thighs, she prickled with goose bumps.
He looked magnificent. He’d replaced his leather greaves with bronze ones, which were inlaid with decorate patterns. The ones along his forearms were equal in quality. This had to be the armour he wore when he fought before the emperor. He’d dispensed with his tunic and, apart from leather straps crossed about his chest and back, he wore only a loincloth. She could see every muscle of his body and how they were sculptured by his smooth skin. He presented her with plates of muscles that bulged around his upper arms and thighs and tapered into rods along his abdomen. His tiny nipples sat upon the apex of his pectorals and as he breathed, his chest rose and fell.
Bethan clasped her hands together to stop them trembling. The storm of trepidation penetrated lower and she knew that little bud she’d agitated three times a day was delighted by his near nudity. She bowed her head and hoped he was pleased with what he saw in her.
“Beautiful,” he murmured in a throaty growl. “Come closer.”
She used tiny steps to reach him and stopped two feet away. She lowered her eyes respectfully.
“Now, undress,” he said softly. “Slowly.”
She done it before in the tavern, but without Rufus, it seemed a different mountain to climb. Rufus had a playful expression, one that provoked ripples of exhilarating tingles along the contours of her breasts. However, Felix was her master and had the authority to command her in any way he desired. If she refused, Felix could force her, tear away the garment, but she di
dn’t expect him to, because he didn’t need to. She lifted the stola over her head and allowed it to drop on the floor behind her. There were no words to describe how vulnerable she felt in that instance, but thankfully, as his long arms formed loops around her body, hugging her to his bare chest, the feeling passed.
He burrowed his nose into her hair. “Bountiful. I’ve not seen such thick locks of hair on a woman.”
“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say.
With her eyes downcast, uncertain where to look, she waited. It wasn’t long before his hands began to roam further down. His right hand grazed around her buttocks, along the ridge of her hip, then down between her thighs. Instinctively, and without fear, she parted them and welcomed his forwardness with no more than a gentle exhalation of surprise. He knew exactly where to stroke her sex—how deep and how wide to probe. She trembled with feverish excitement, especially as she felt the rise of his cock against her belly. It had the girth of her slender wrist and possessed not a hint of softness. This virile gladiator was far removed from her hapless husband of old.
The kisses he rained down on her lips and throat were hungry and warm. His mouth formed a generous circle around one of her nipples, sucking hard on it until she whimpered. Easing away, he resumed his exploration of her neck and bosom, while below his eager fingers dove in and out of her wet hole, forcing her to rise upon tiptoes whenever he drove his middle finger higher.
She clung on to his neck, channelling her nervous energy into that tight grip. He showed no discomfort as she dug her nails into the sinews of the long muscles that ran from his jaw down to the tip of his shoulders.
“Master,” she gasped, pleased to call him so as his commanding performance melted her inner core. “Master, please take me.”
He growled at her impatience and rebuked her temerity with a tug on her hair. She swung her head back and caught his eyes sparkling in the lights. Her lower lip trembled at his unswerving expression. “Forgive me, Master, I only want to make you happy.”
“As I do you. Such a good slave,” he murmured, softening his stern lines. “Now turn around, bend over, and spread your legs.”
She hastened to comply. Tiptoes were necessary again to lay over the structure Felix had built. The soft fur cushioned her breasts and hips and protected her from the edge of the plateau. Candles flickered as a small draught swept through the room. She shivered. Felix ran the flattened palm of his warm hand down her spine, dipping into its natural curvature before rising to the apex of her rump. She snatched a breath as he slid along her furrow, over the small entrance of her bottom, then plunged his fingers into her open hole.
There was where she needed him. He lowered his body over hers and kissed the nape of her neck. She felt it! The hardened, smooth tip of his manhood resting in the groove of her arse. The bulb seemed huge as it slipped lower and parted her folds.
He continued to pet her with his lips, but his hands were less tender as he sought to tease her. She arched her back and lifted her shoulders, pushing him up so he could reach underneath to her plump breasts and pert nipples. He toyed with them, rolling them between his fingers and thumbs, testing their firmness with an occasional squeeze.
“Hard pebbles,” he said quietly, as if contemplating a discovery.
“Yes,” she agreed, hard for him.
She expected a thrust, something of a dramatic entry, but he held back and instead used his oiled cock head to prise her further open without exploring her depths.
“That’s a wet pussy,” he muttered. “Please Ceres with your lust, slave.”
Never mind the bloody gods, she wanted to scream, just fuck me!
He encompassed the expanse of her waist with his hands. “A narrow waist for the neck of a vessel.”
She had no idea what he meant, but she mumbled something agreeable. He clutched her buttocks and she winced.
“Ample ass.”
He drew her back and before she had the wits to realise his urgency, he’d impaled her pussy on his cock. She screamed. The whole house must have heard her scream with both shock and delight at his abrupt intrusion. With the spearhead of his member, he reached the core of her belly, making full use of her hidden channel. Her eyes watered at his audacity.
