Roman Justice, Plus...
Ms. Mary Ellen Hunter certainly had, though little in the alien's UFO
space seemed changed. The floor felt as peculiar as ever to the vice principal
at Pres. Andrew Jackson School. Fingers interlocked behind her head and would
not free. Never would Mary Ellen have believed where she now was had not she
already been similarly abducted. This time, of course, was different. She knelt
on the odd floor nude. That much, and much more was new.
Other things like the different body, lactating breasts, pains all over
and the faint white lines running over most of her held a vague familiarity:
Distant, but still very different. The lines looked like tiny old scars.
Something stirred behind. Her chestnut hair pulled back. Mary Ellen felt the
lower ends braided and then felt the strands rest over her spine, just below her
shoulder blades.
Oh!
Pubic hair vanished just like that! In shock Mary Ellen tried to close
her opened thighs but they, like her fingers, refused to budge.
"You did well on your time travel back to ancient Rome," Rrnyx said.
Heard, the metallic voice made Mary Ellen start. Unseen, naturally. "We observed
and were pleased. Human you did admirably, even while being repeatedly raped and
scourged - by the way, the vicious scourging is what those lines on your body
are all about."
Mary Ellen shuddered. Hazy images reappeared as she vaguely recalled the
Roman baths, Manius Sextilius and his men, the two slaves, her escape from all
of them, and later getting caught.
"Observe yourself..." She looked down. Once more milk expressed through
extended nipples that looked totally unlike her own. Faint lines running over
the tops of the swollen breasts grew in hue. The lines reddened into raised
ridges. Had she been able to shift position, Mary Ellen would have been able to
see the same thing happening elsewhere on her body. She stared fascinated at the
coloring and size changing lines across her chest. "See what those superior to
humans can do..."
The welts grew more in size and color. Transfixed, Mary Ellen watched as
the raised skin broke. From left to right all of them began to tear. There was
no pain, just the parting of skin. Where faint white lines ran before, gory raw
flesh now showed. Fearful sweat began to form.
"Now, Marcia Ellena Hunteress it is time. Time for your greatest
challenge..."
Mid-morning in the ancient city clogged the narrow streets. Partricians
and plebians alike jostled forcing a melange of styles of wear and classes.
Flies buzzed. Tradesmen shopped their wares to various buyers, some clanging
metal pots to gain attention. Black birds practiced landings atop building
pediments. Infants wailed. Wafting perfumes alternated with smells of lunches
being prepared. Smoke from cooking grills preparing warm meals hazed the air.
Drying laundry flapped from the windows of upper story flats. Youthful feet
stirred dust playing an impromptu game of dodge ball at one of the street
corners.
High above the Forum steps stood clusters of senators within protective
shadows cast by majestic columns. From their vantage point they watched the
procession several blocks away approach, drawing ever closer to them and the
arena. Merchants below plying their wares from stands set in the direct sun
lacked the ability to look over rooftops. Making sales was of more importance to
the tradesmen than any foresight of their politicians.
Marcia Ellena, the former modern day educator and vice principal/UFO
abductee called Mary Ellen, shouldered the heavy patibulum. Its weight forced
her head lower. Suspended from three prongs tacked to each shiny breast swung
small glass jars. Teats affixed to the lip of each probed into the glass
containers. Already half-full, the vials caught most of Marcia Ellena's milk.
Her view was mainly of her scourged lactating breasts and the street below.
Knotted together, four very long and very sharp spikes dangled and clanked
together between the cleavage, pricking any flesh that happened in the way. A
tight hemp necklace connected the iron. Tied at each hip were the corners of two
rags.
Those on the steps below at the Forum paused to watch as the condemned
slave at last appeared for them. Men and women gawked at the naked female. Noise
in the street muted until one shouted Whore! A wizened senator looked to a
comrade and smirked. Jeering taunts grew in volume. More invectives were aimed,
as were rotted fruits.
Shackled feet tangled. Something thrown from the yelling crowd hit just
under an eye. Marcia Ellena flipped away her half-braided hair. As she did, the
weight across her shoulders became too great causing the loss of precious
balance. She swayed, and then hit the concrete pilaster of some building with
the opposite side of her face. She bounced back, stars from the collision
ringing in her head. Legs buckled. The street scraped kneecaps as they hit.
Marcia Ellena fell backward, onto her haunches, then slid further until half
sitting up. The torn rags tied to hips in a joking attempt at modesty lay sodden
between the two naked thighs.
Marcia Ellena teetered in her half sitting position. Wearily she began
to angle further backward before alert soldiers arrested the motion. Lifting the
crossbeam at each end, they righted her back to her feet. Rest of any sort,
especially at this stage, simply was not to be allowed.
The procession continued its arduous way through the crowded streets to
the arena.
Those standing in lines streaming from the many arched entryways to the
multi-storied arena watched the approaching escort of armored soldiers, slaves,
and of course, the condemned. Luckiest of those in the lines enjoyed shade
provided by colonnades, and from them they also could see. Many commented on the
runaway's condition, remarking on her sexuality and stamina. They watched as the
troops guided the tortured to another portico; one where there were no lines of
people and one that led underground.
"This one can kick," said Vassius. Marcia Ellena winced as shoulders
rubbed raw by carrying the patibulum met the rocky wall of the subterranean
vault. Her wrists cuffed and elbows once more roped together ached, but at least
she no longer bore the weight of that wood. Watching the bearded Vassius as he
knelt to hook the chain connecting her ankle shackles to the floor, she managed
to secretly boast. Obviously, the foreign slave had not forgotten the blow she
had administered before in the baths.
The military escort left just the three of them in the chamber under the
arena: The two foreign slaves, Vassius and Orthrus, and the female. Stifling
heat and stench overpowered even the most hearty. Boots and uniforms clattered
as they quickly departed, eager to escape to more benign atmospheres.
"We better gag her, too," he said to Orthrus, "lest we wake anyone above
from their siesta". Marcia Ellena twisted and fought as Vassius made good on his
precaution.
The barrel-chested slave carefully removed the filled vials of milk,
emptying them into one copper container and closing a lid on top. "Back in Rome
Trimalchio likes to serve human cheese at his fancy banquets, and this batch
should make him very happy." Turning back to Marcia Ellena his dark eyes glowed.
"Now comes another tough part for you, runaway..."
She screamed, but the gag muffled her cries. Vassius stiff-armed her
chest and at the same time used another hand to slowly pull one set of prongs.
The sprung rods contracted as they slid from the stretching breast, their ends
biting and leaving shallow cuts in their wake. Fresh blood made by the sliding
ends streamed down. The action also crossed and ripped at scabs from the
scourging. Earlier lacerations reopened. New scarlet rivulets sprouted.
Vassius deliberately slowed the removal of the next set of prongs.
Revenge was now his, though where she had kneed him in the groin still ached.
Clearly, the female anguished.
Behind and on each side Orthrus lit torches set into each wall. The
crude sconces illuminated more of Vassius, his bleeding victim and large cages
used to hold exotic beasts waiting their turn in the arena. The three slaves and
the presently empty cages were the only distinctive features in the underground
space.
Marcia Ellena panted. The nails hanging over her sternum clanged
together as her chest heaved. The gag prevented her from breathing through her
mouth. Wide-eyed, she watched as Vassius removed his short toga. Coarse black
hair seemed to cover his entire body. Little flesh showed, except for the fully
erect penis. Its pinkness stuck out from a mass of black hair and pointed
straight at her. Marcia Ellena turned her head away and shut her eyes in
disgust.
Through her nose the man's bad odors added to the stench already
permeating the room. She felt corners of the rag in front of her lift, and
grimaced as rough fingers explored her most tender and now bald region. A thick
finger plunged into her. Maria Ellena gagged. Part of the shoulder-to-shoulder
swath rubbed raw by carrying the patibulum pressed harder into the wall.
And then the force of the rape began in earnest.
Cursing after he came, Vassius doubled his fist. Her initial dryness
irritated his male member. But, the bitch had learned... Now, as she slumped
toward him, head lowered in exhaustion after his brutal rape, he aimed at her
navel and slammed with a fury any warrior would be proud to possess. As
expected, the female crashed to her knees. Vassius turned to his younger helper
and said, "Your turn now, Orthrus. Let's see what you've got..."
The sodomy and rape disoriented. The glaring sun did little to help.
Marcia Ellena squinted one eye, the other now too swollen to use, and thought
she made out Manius Sextilius sitting near the ring. Wide awnings encircled the
arena. Most of the people sat in the shadows of the awnings. Shadowy figures
formed what looked to be Manius Sextilius and his entourage. The long purple
tunic he sported came into better focus just as two giant horses appeared on
either side. Her attempt to see the one responsible for all of this, was
immediately, however temporarily, distracted by the animals' arrival.
The rider on the horse to her left was too hard to see because of the
blazing sun. The one on the right, however, she recognized by the boots and
short military tunic. He passed a bar to Vassius, who then slid it between her
arms and back. The soldier bent down and lifted. Marcia Ellena felt the pressure
just as the riders kicked their mounts and the horses began to gallop.
She tried to run between the two, but their legs were too rapid. Marcia
Ellena's toes furrowed the sand as the first of three circles in the arena were
begun with her suspended between the two galloping horses.
Fresh from their mid-day naps, those under the awnings cheered. In the
center of the arena workman finished anchoring the upright. Nearby sat the
crossbeam.
She lay still were they dropped her in front and below of Manius
Sextilius's box. Enough slack in the tangled ankle chain allowed one leg to bend
over another. The bouncing and jostling between the two racing horses left her
breathless. Pounding still rang inside her brain. A voice sounding like that of
Manius Sextilius called her a runaway slave and shouted for her crucifixion.
Marcia Ellena felt hands grip her shoulders, and then being dragged
back. She came to rest on her stomach, chin resting on something hard which she
realized was the length of heavy wood she had carried.
From her perspective, the arena and sky spun crazily. Her elbows and
wrists were now free, but other hands held her arms outstretched along the wood.
The sky slowing stopped spinning and she focused on the bearded face looking
down at her - Vassius!
"It's time we unloosened these," he said and untied the tight necklace
holding the four long spikes. Marcia Ellena craned her neck to watch the pointed
metal pulled from her chest. Someone brushed away dust. Caked mud had formed
small gritty circles over leaking nipples. Her head was shoved back down. More
pressure placed on her arms. The nails clanked as they were removed.
Fiery pain shot through her arm and into her chest. Frantically, she
jerked away, but the wrist refused to budge. Horrified, Marcia Ellena twisted
toward the stubborn wrist. Fingers from her own hand rose as if to claw the air.
She yanked again, and again the wrist refused to obey, holding fast to the wood.
And then, it became obvious why the sharp pain and the wrist's refusal
to budge.
Manius Sextilius chuckled as the final spikes were driven into the
runaway slave's feet. He waved to an arena slave attending one of the gates. If
their attention hadn't been captured so far, he reasoned that surely the crowd
will surely enjoy his next bit of entertainment...
Marcia Ellena saw it even as she writhed on the cross. The big cat
growled and then licked blood dripping from her nailed feet. Pausing, it sniffed
as if recognizing something of more interest than the blood. Claws used her
thighs to steady itself as it rose. Huge fangs shredded the loin cloth. She
screamed more as the rough texture of its tongue lapped at her hairless sex.
She heard a shout, as did the beast. It dropped down and faced the man.
He swung a broad sword at the animal. The animal roared and swung back. Its fur
bristled. The half-naked gladiator circled, sword extended.
From somewhere else, a spear was thrown. It struck the animal between
its ribs. The beast keeled over; the spear stuck out. It lay on its side, pink
tongue unrolled into the dirt.
The first gladiator confronted a second. The two became opponents.
Marcia Ellena hung crucified, front and center as the gladiatorial bout clashed
The day in the arena ended with gladiators fighting more wild animals
along with themselves. Manius Sextilius arose. Taking another look at the
runaway slave called Marcia Ellena he contentedly smiled. She would last the
night, he thought, but there was to be no doubting that hours of watching her
hanging nudity aroused. Following this evening's meal he would summon one or
two, perhaps even three of his whores to satisfy a hunger mere food and drink
could not sate...
Epilogue
Mary Ellen tossed and turned on her own bed. Wearily peering over at the
glowing digital numbers on the clock radio she saw that it was way too early to
rise for work. Unable to sleep, she sat up. She was drenched in sweat!
And then she saw them.
The faint lines covering her now were joined by more marks. Rose scars
glowed at her wrists. Her body ached more than ever. Given everything, Mary
Ellene knew she had no choice but to call in "sick". Rrnyx and his idea of Roman
Justice, Plus prevailed.
