(Dear Readers, this chapter contains mature content appropriate to the historical setting and story development.)
Chambers private of Livia occupied wing entire of palace.
World of luxury that blended tradition Roman with exoticism oriental.
Fabrics vibrant upon walls.
Cushions soft scattered over divans low.
Artifacts rare that few Romans common would witness in lifetime.
Atrium was space intimate.
Illuminated by lamps oil perfumed.
Fountain small in center creating melody gentle with water.
Helena and slaves two worked silently.
Preparing table low with selection of delicacies.
Fruits exotic.
Breads fine.
Meats delicate.
Wines rare.
"Leave us," Livia commanded when preparations were complete.
Slaves retreated discretely.
Doors closing as departed.
Soon as alone, Livia dispensed with pretense all of decorum aristocratic.
Gaze ran over me with intensity that spoke of desire barely contained.
"Finally," she said, approaching with steps deliberate. "Tired am I of pretending formalities before father and servants."
"Role exhausting to interpret continuously," I commented, remaining motionless as approached.
Letting her come to me.
Demonstration small of control.
"Idea you have none." Livia stopped step one away, close enough to feel heat of body. "Since childhood, trained have I been to be daughter perfect of Senator. Modest in public, obedient at home, always aware of 'responsibility to family.'"
"And yet, here you stand," I observed, "defying expectations with gladiator in chambers private."
Smile slow formed upon lips.
"Space only this is of freedom. Here, can be who truly am, without eyes critical of Senate or expectations suffocating of father."
"And who are you truly, Livia Cassia?" I asked, voice deliberately lower.
In response, distance she eliminated between us.
Pressing body against mine as lips sought with urgency that spoke of desire repressed throughout day of formalities.
Kiss contained nothing of delicacy expected from woman of position.
Was voracious.
Almost savage in intensity.
When finally separated to breathe, eyes had darkened with desire.
"Does that answer question?" she whispered against lips.
"Has only begun to answer," I replied, hands finding waist in grip firm.
Livia smiled.
Clearly appreciating audacity.
"Banquet can wait," she decided, pulling toward chamber most private. "Appetites other more urgent have I at moment."
Chamber personal was even more luxurious than atrium.
Bed huge covered with silks finest from Syria.
Lighting soft from lamps alabaster.
Aromas exotic of incense rare.
Soon as door closed, Livia transformed.
Dignity aristocratic disappeared completely.
Replaced by passion physical almost savage.
Hands impatiently pulled at tunic, revealing torso sculpted by months of training brutal.
"Perfect," she whispered, fingers tracing scars battle with fascination almost reverent.
I allowed her to explore for moments few before taking control of situation.
With movement quick that demonstrated strength superior, lifted her easily.
Eliciting cry of surprise and excitement before placing upon bed.
"Others were not like this," said Livia, eyes wide as watched me remove clothes rest. "Always so eager to please, so fearful, so... obedient."
"That is why tire of them so quickly," I responded, voice now laden with authority as approached bed like predator. "Want not servant in bed. Want someone who makes you forget who you are for hours few."
Shock and excitement on face confirmed had touched truth that perhaps never admitted to self.
Before could respond, I grasped fabric fine of tunic and tore with movement abrupt.
Completely exposing body.
"How dare you—" she began, but words died in throat when saw expression on face.
Was not expression of slave or gladiator.
Was that of man who knew exactly what wanted and would take it.
"In room this," I said, voice low growl as climbed onto bed, "there is no domina or gladiator. There is only man and woman."
When bodies finally joined, was not with gentleness hesitant of subordinate.
But with force dominant of someone taking what desire.
I grasped wrists, pinning above head with hand one while other held firmly hip.
Completely controlling movements.
Livia arched against me.
Moans escaping lips with each thrust powerful.
Body responded with abandon probably never allowed self.
Aristocrat Roman always in control now completely surrendered to pleasure.
"Look at me," I commanded, pulling hair back with force enough to make eyes open in shock. "Want to see face when lose control."
Words, combined with rhythm relentless, drew moan deep from her.
Legs wrapped around waist.
Trying to pull even deeper.
I applied knowledge that would be considered mastery in era this.
Understanding precisely where to touch.
How to vary rhythm to build pleasure to points almost unbearable.
Reading responses of body to intensify each sensation.
"By gods all," gasped Livia when wave first of pleasure intense traversed. "What are you... how know you..."
Silenced questions with kiss dominant.
Changing position to turn onto stomach in movement fluid.
Grasping hips, raised to find angle new that knew would be even more intense.
"That is it," I murmured against ear as resumed rhythm, now even stronger. "Forget who you are. Forget everything except what feeling now."
Hands found breasts.
Squeezing and caressing with precision calculated while hips maintained rhythm merciless.
Each touch, each movement was calibrated perfectly to bring Livia to state of pleasure that clearly surpassed anything ever experienced.
When climax finally hit, was so intense that had to cover mouth with hand to muffle scream that certainly would have alerted wing entire.
Body entire trembled violently.
Legs unable to support as waves of pleasure consumed.
Only when began to recover did I allow climax own.
Control—product of techniques era this could not dream of—finally yielding to pleasure physical.
Moments later, lying among sheets soaked with sweat, Livia observed with mixture of fascination and confusion.
"Who are you truly?" she asked, voice still trembling. "No gladiator... no man has ever touched like this."
I smiled.
Not with submission expected of subordinate pleased to have satisfied.
But with confidence of someone who knows exactly value of what offer.
"Perhaps was lover of queen in lands distant," I answered with tone slightly provocative. "Or perhaps learned secrets of pleasure from priestesses at temple of Aphrodite in Corinth."
"Lying you are," she said, but smile showed enchanted with game.
"Truth is rarely as interesting as possibilities," I replied, tracing finger down valley between breasts. "But prefer to demonstrate rather than explain."
To prove point, hand slid lower.
Finding again spots knew would provoke pleasure maximum.
Body responded instantly.
Arching against touch.
"By Venus," she sighed, eyes involuntarily closing. "If this is idea of demonstration, prefer that never give explanations."
Hours following proved that conditioning physical offered advantages well beyond arena.
When finally finished, exhausted and satisfied, moon had already traversed much of journey nocturnal.
"Definitely not like others," murmured Livia, body completely relaxed in way that spoke of satisfaction deep and complete. "Perhaps will keep for much longer."
As fell into sleep deep, I remained awake.
Analyzing implications of what had just happened.
Dynamic had changed completely.
In world outside, was gladiator, property, subordinate.
But in intimacy of room this, roles had been reversed in way that Livia probably did not realize fully.
Was advantage that few in position would achieve.
Not just favor sexual of woman powerful.
But influence psychological profound created by submission complete during encounters intimate.
Game had entered phase new.
Where power flowed not through chains.
But through bonds forged in darkness.
In moments when masks fell.
And truth reigned supreme.
Night was mine.