Gloria Perpetua |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 18 2011, 06:47 PM (851 Views) | |
| Snitch | Sep 21 2011, 09:36 PM Post #21 |
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As battle raged below her, Aemilia remained reclined in her seat, sandaled feet dangling over the armrest. This sort of brutal combat was not new to her - the Coliseum was, of course, one of her favorite places to spend a day. Keen brown eyes watched as each opponent fell at the mercy of the son of Mars. Had anyone been watching her as the carnage played out, they might have noticed the glint of malice in her eyes and the sadistic grin settled on her features. Aemilia was truly a Roman - death was entertainment, no matter how brutal or inhumane the methods. Marcus continued his relentless onslaught, aquiring wounds as he did. Each time a blade pierced his flesh the crowd would gasp or fret nervously, but Aemilia was not fooled. Few people could know a demi-god as well as another of his kind. Marcus lived and breathed for battle just as Aemilia exploited lust and beauty. This was the gift that their parents had given them. These mortals, they simply did not - could not - comprehend. Finally, the last of the prisoners fell, his face battered to an unrecognizable pulp, and she heard the son of Mars speak in the arena below. With one graceful movement, Aemilia stood, walking to the edge of the box to peer down at her host. She knew that he would see her, watching him; her beauty made her outshine anyone else in the crowd. |
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| Lucien | Sep 22 2011, 12:08 AM Post #22 |
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Praetor
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Marcus turned towards the crowd roaring at him. Did none of them understand this was more than simply sport? This was a dedication to the War god! None of them prayed, none of them offered worship. Father, he thought alone, I dedicate this to you and the Glory of your name. Something warm settled over him then, and he instinctively pulled the knife from his chest. The wound turned to scar immediately. Small things, but visible. Thank you, father. His eyes left the sand where he discarded the dagger as servants hurried onto the field to wash him before his wounds could become infected, as well as to dispose of the executed prisoners. Lifting his eyes, he scanned the crowd once more. Then, as if by some divine signal, she was there. In the box, her eyes alight from the bloodlust, standing with all the radiance of the mother that had birthed her. "Aemilia." He breathed quietly, taken aback by her terrible splendour. She was garbed as a simple Venusian woman, yet her very figure seemed suddenly thrice as irresistible. She understood it all. That primal surge within him for war flared yet again, but this time for a different kind of battle. "Clear the stands," he commanded, "all but her." The servants looked mildly confused, but did not question, running to inform the legionaries. In turn, they shifted to face the crowd and activated the loudspeakers in their power suits, booming the command. Knowing better than to revolt against the will of a Praetorian Guard, regardless of rank, the men and women began to disperse -- some sighing wistfully, but all still well-satisfied. They chattered happily among themselves and even made several attempts at recreation, laughing and jostling all the while. Marcus waited until the last of them had left before he turned to his sole remaining guest. Even the servants and Legionaries had left. "My lady, this night I honoured my father." He stepped forwards and surged, leaping to one of the ringing arena walls and then launching himself up to catch the box, vaulting up and into it with a small thud. Sand and dirt fell from him, and the wounds on his side marred his flesh in crimson smears. He looked primal, as much an incarnation of War as his father, almost radiating masculine power. The fire in his eyes burned them to a blazing, lustful ruby, his hand raised in invitation to her -- not even two metres away. "I would see your mother have an offering as well." And there it was. On his terms. Edited by Lucien, Sep 22 2011, 12:11 AM.
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| Snitch | Sep 22 2011, 12:28 AM Post #23 |
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Even the goddess of love and beauty had thing for the bloodlust that the Roman Empire was so well known for, and her daughter was no exception. But now, now her expression turned to one of triumph, a smirk on her gorgeous features, as she saw Marcus look at her. Even though she could not hear what he said, she saw his lips form her name, and let out a low laugh of dark amusement. I always get what I want, son of Mars, she thought to herself, hands gripping the edge of the box a bit tighter so that her knuckles showed white against her lightly tanned skin. She watched as he said something to the servants, taking a step back to once again recline in her seat as she heard the orders boomed over loudspeakers invisible to her. The demi-goddess waited patiently until all of the guests had exitted, leaving only the two of them alone in the arena. Molten chocolate brown eyes following his movements, taking in every contraction of and release of his muscles, every flicker of his gaze, Aemilia watched as he approached. He was showing off again, of course, though now she was not quite so sure if he even realized it himself. The look in his told her that the calm, rational mind that had greeted her earlier in the evening was taken over my a much more primal persona, brought on by the heat and glory of battle. She gazed up at him through her lashes, affecting a look of innocence. She did not reply, but merely stood, slowly, allowing him to watch the way her body moved as she shifted her position from sitting to standing. The white dress hugged her form in all of the right places, and the slit revealed a dangerous amount of light olive leg. After another pause, her gaze meet his full on, and she tilted her head ever so slightly, allowing him to observe the smirk on her unnaturally beautiful features. A couple of steps, and her delicate hand was placed in his, her eyes glinting with mischeif. |
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| Lucien | Sep 22 2011, 12:40 AM Post #24 |
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Praetor
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Marcus watched her movements with predatory hunger, a stirring in his belly he'd not felt for days. When she stood, his heartbeat thundered, eyes tracing the olive skin of that exposed flesh. When she approached, he could barely restrain himself, forcibly keeping in check the traitorous hand that sought to grab her and slam her against the wall. Instead he awaited her examination, and when her hand found his, his blood-stained thumb delicately brushed her knuckles before he stepped closer, slipped his left hand to her waist and pulled her to mould against him, shivering in pleasure at the feel of her supply breasts against his body. Without adieu, Marcus Krasus leaned forwards and with dominant force, pressed lips to hers. The contact was like an explosion that set off a chain reaction within him. His blood flowed downwards, his heartbeat thundered like a drum of war and his blood boiled. His left hand shifted along to her rear and grasped it through one of the slits of her dress, squeezing the soft flesh and dragging her to rub groin to groin, grinding against her even as he began to shift them backwards. With agonizing slowness and care he moved her towards the sofa once more, sliding his right hand along her soft arm to join his left beneath her dress upon her arse. His arms flexed and he lifted her from purchase, lowering her onto her back and slapping away the soft pillows, placing her against firm stone and finally breaking lips from hers, his own hungrily devouring their way down pale neck. Teeth bit and tongue lapped as suckle was given to welts, pleasure found in the taunting and bruising of tender flesh beneath war's ministrations. How many men had had her? It mattered not. This was no mere rite of Venus, though dedicated to her, t'was an exchange of control between equals. She would sacrifice to his desires and he, in turn, would take her for his own ends. For a night or for a lifetime, it mattered little. They were soon to be joined. |
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| Snitch | Sep 22 2011, 12:54 AM Post #25 |
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In truth, Aemilia was vaguely surprised that Marcus did not spring on her the moment she stood up from her seat. Even in this animalistic state, the Guard still had a decent amount of self-control. She could not help but be impressed; it seemed to make the victory all the sweeter to her. She had no time to ponder these thoughts further, though, as the moment she laid her hand in his he pulled her against him in a hungry kiss. He reminded her vaguely of a dog she had once in the street, thin and starving, who had jumped with an almost mad fervor when offered the smallest morsel of food. The difference was that while the dog would likely waste away and die, Marcus could sate his hunger. That was her mission in this world, was it not? To many, an act such of this would be one of dominance. To Aemilia, it was one of triumph for both parties. Being the smaller of the two she was of course at a major physical disadvantage, and therefore offered no resistance as his hand groped along her flawless skin beneath her dress. The demi-goddess spared a vague thought to getting a new gown made - this one would not last the night, of that much she was sure. His hands were like fire against her skin, and she smiled against his lips, her eyes lighting up in an obvious challenge. Show me what kind of warrior you really are, son of Mars. Finally her lips were released from his as his hungrily kissed her neck, his teeth grinding against her delicate skin. She could feel the throb of his manhood against her crotch, the two of them seperated only by a few thin layers of flimsy material. Her own heartbeak quickened as he bore down on her like a lion on a piece of helpless prey. The way he seemed to spare no thought to her was intoxicating - usually she was the one in charge, but this, this was certainly something different. She knew that somewhere, Venus watched her daughter with pride. |
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| Lucien | Sep 22 2011, 01:30 AM Post #26 |
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Praetor
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Mars' progeny could find no way through the haze of his desires, no permeating clarity to pierce the veil of lust and need. Hands sliding around to her hips, he forcefully tore her dress from her flesh as she had so accurately foretold, muttering something about buying her ten more in its place before he threw aside the remnants of the tattered cloth. Beneath, she was deliciously bare, his eyes drinking in the flesh of her breasts and the pert pink nipples thereupon. Swallowing to steady himself, he bent and pressed his lips to the top of her left breast, kissing it in admiration before trailing down to the soft, erect pink spire. He drew it between his lips and suckled, biting gently on the flesh while his fingers roamed her flat, taut stomach, brushing over her belly button to reach the edge of her panties. Breast adoration was aborted momentarily for speech to be given in heated tone, "Remove my garments," he breathed in husky command. "Swiftly." Abdominals flexed as he lifted lower body to grant her access to the cord of his waiting blood-stained trousers. Smile fixed on eager face and he kissed her breast but once more before rising to let her bend to her purpose, hand braced apart on the frame of the couchbed so as to not provide hindrance as she ducked between them. His member was hard as rock, extended and ready. She need only free it, that he could bring body to body and let their union be realised. Marcus could hardly wait. |
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| Snitch | Sep 23 2011, 12:36 AM Post #27 |
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His insatiable lust was like a fuel to her fire. As Marcus was closest with his divine heritage on the field of battle, so was Aemilia most her mother's daughter in situations such as this, in the heat and passion of intimacy. She was the daughter of the goddess of love and lust, of vanity and beauty, and never would she let anyone forget it. A violent pleasure racked through her small body as he tore her dress off fervently, his lips going to her breasts. Small noises of appretiation were awarded to him as his lips and teeth closed around a nipple, and she reached up a hand to stroke his firey hair, her eyes wide with a cruel sort of delight. When he spoke, she turned her clear brown gaze to his hazy red one, eyes gleaming in the dim light. He was as eager as a puppy, and his readiness only served to please her more. With tantalizing slowness, she slid her free hand over his exposed chest, inching ever-so-slowly down towards his belt. When she reached the edge of his pants, she allows her fingers to linger slightly, toying a bit with the fabric. A wide smirk lit her features, and when she spoke, is was something of a taunting purr. "Why the sudden eagerness, my lord?" She did not wait for a response, merely did as she had been bid previously and undid his belt using her small nimble fingers, allowing his trousers to drop, along with tugging away anything else he might be wearing underneath them. Now she looked at him with a challenging gaze. She would let him play this game his way, if he so desired. Just for tonight. |
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| Lucien | Sep 26 2011, 09:56 AM Post #28 |
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Praetor
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Marcus was bare, entirely and completely. Despite this, however, he felt more in control than ever. Reaching down, he drew the remains of her dress and tore two long strips. It was time to remove the thoughts of control entirely from Aemilia's mind, once and for all. Reaching up with strong, calloused hands, he grasped the seductress' wrists and bound them tightly with one long strip, tying an expert soldier's knot before twining them again slightly with the second strip, guiding it down to the leg of the recliner, tying it around it and binding her arm above her head. Thusly stripped of her hands, Aemilia's body was given to his desires. Hungry lips sought her own once more while his fingers, so powerful and gentle at once, removed her underwear. She was bare, and just damp enough to merit his desire's increase. This was more than simple sex. It was a subtle war, a struggle for control. He made every move correctly thus far, so he hoped, in the battle as it stood. Next would be her response and the answer to his silent, lust-drunk mind's wonder; did she truly believe he could be tamed, and if so, how? Marcus' manhood had swollen to full erection some time back, and now he grasped it, stoking the flames of his arousal with physical action. His red eyes were a heated crimson, fixed on her own in hungry delight. He would take her soon, of that there was no doubt. But where would his desire lay, and to what end would he see it fulfilled? That remained a mystery, one that he eagerly expected the Daughter of Venus to attempt to solve. This was a different kind of battle, and a different sort of lust from war, yet Marcus Krasus Bellus loved every second. Like father, like son, after all. |
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| Snitch | Sep 26 2011, 10:23 PM Post #29 |
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There was no struggle as he bound her wrists - any such attempts would have been futile. A small noise of protest was all that escaped from her, but that was soon extinguished as his lips met hers again in a ferocious kiss. Bound and cornered as she was, Aemilia opted to merely return the kiss, though her passion was one that boiled below the surface, almost taunting him for his heated lust. Had he been hoping for resistance, he would be sorely disappointed; it seemed that Venus' daughter had chosen to play the submissive at this point, though her bright eyes still gleamed with that unspoken challenge. He pulled away, allowing Aemilia a small gasp of air. Her eyes strayed to his erect manhood as he grasped it, preparing to take her in the most intimate way, to supposedly dominate her once and for all. And yet, despite this knowledge, she just continued to smile coyly and gaze up at him, even as he bore down on her with all the passion of an animal in heat and stared at her with with those lustful red eyes. None could tell what was going through her mind at that moment - be it fury at her supposed defeat, or a violent pleasure at things to come, she would never let him see either way. They were like the hound and the cat, constantly trying to out-do one another, always on the chase. |
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| Lucien | Sep 29 2011, 12:28 PM Post #30 |
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Praetor
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Marcus' hips shifted while he positioned his naked body, eyes locked on her soft, pale flesh. She was unmarked despite the ravaging she'd doubtlessly been put through under the name and eyes of her divine mother. Her body from crown to toes was as clean and pure-looking as a virgin on her marriage night. The woman was, in every essence of the word, demure. It occurred to him then that it was likely part of her appeal, her charm. Any man that lay with Aemilia would think himself the conqueror of what had never before been conquered, despite his better judgement. Likely, many of them would have already asked her for her hand, to live in their massive manses and villas, or humble houses. Everyone from mechanics to senators must have solicited her for her affection, and received coy non-committal answers and vague allusions to the possibility, but never a solid confirmation, nor open denial. The woman baited them back that way, he was sure. That was, of course, irrelevant to him. What mattered now was that he was taking her, and showing her what it meant to be at his whims. Like her mother, she too had fallen prey to the primal ferocity of War. Ironic how their affections represented the same actions of their parents, divine and so removed from mortal affairs, yet daily represented in situations such as these -- though not always quite so intimately, of course. Harsh digits coming free of his member, he placed his rough hands on her soft thighs and pushed them further apart, fingers sliding down her legs to grasp her just below the knees whilst his hips shifted forwards, the shaft of his cock rubbing back and forth gently against her moist slit. Well-endowed he was. No giant, but enough to split her clean apart. A smile lit his eyes and parted his lips, and he leaned closer to whisper hotly against her sensitive ear. "Beg for it. Now." He was still fighting a war, after all. One he was determined to win. |
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