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Chapter 11: Antonius Goes to Town

Part 1

I stood at Yanni and Matthias’ wagon before they left the next morning. Yanni had written a complete list of goods and prices for Decentius; at least I presumed that was what it was. I was starting to get sick of all these missives I couldn’t decipher.

Before Yanni left, he slapped me on the back. I think he expected it to startle me, but I scarcely moved. “You and I, Antonius,” he whispered in my ear, “we are of a kind. If ever you need my help, you let me know.” I grunted something, scarcely inclined to offer assistance, servanti or not.

“Just be sure to bring word from your master next time. Decentius is not patient.” Decentius was as patient as the sea, but I wanted to know whom we were really dealing with.

Yanni, hopped into his cart and flicked his horses. He waved a cheery farewell which I forced myself to mimic. Matthias waved too, but I didn’t bother with him.

Once they had disappeared from view, I went to retrieve the cart Theophilus had shown me. It had been kept in a silo far out in the fields, far enough away that no one would have found it if Decentius had not pushed the issue. I didn’t bother with a horse, I just lifted the shafts onto my shoulders and pulled the thing.

Theophilus was standing outside the barn when I returned. He smirked, “Doing the master’s bidding, I see.”

I snorted. “Yes, maggiordomo, I am doing my job,” I spat.

He merely chuckled. “Now, Antonius, there’s no reason for such hostility. Didn’t I let you met the Greeks? Talk to them? Try to persuade them your master was the true Signore of the villa? It is hardly my fault you failed so fantastically.”

I bit my cheek and stared at the ground. I would have laughed aloud, but Decentius would have my head if Theophilus found out what the Greeks had truly agreed to. Whether it were my doing or not; he would have my head. I knew what he would do with Cloelie, what he was doing with Antonia. I kicked the ground.

“No charming response, Antonius?’ Theophilus murmured, deluded into thinking my annoyance was prompted by his petty scheming. “Ah well, perhaps one will occur to you before next we met. You’re off to Siracusae with Donna Antonia tomorrow.”

I glared at him. “Yes, I am. But I won’t be gone long.”

Theophilus shrugged and walked away. I picked up a stone, tossing it up repeatedly, fighting the urge to aim at his retreating form. If Decentius could increase his speed, if I could, surely Theophilus could as well. When I had the advantage, I would strike. Despite Decentius’ mutterings, I did know how to be patient. But only when it mattered to me.

I went back into the villa to retrieve Donna Antonia’s trunk; the same trunks I had delivered to the villa only two days prior. And now I was being sent to deliver them, and Donna Antonia, back to the bordello. Donna Antonia, who preferred the company of Decentius to me.

Swinging open the door to Donna Antonia’s chamber, my eyes fell on Cloelie. Cloelie, Decentius’ little pet, Cloelie who I had been using since I saw Antonia riding Decentius. I had raced from that sight and into Cloelie, as if I Nemesis herself had guided me. If I could not strike at him directly, I use Cloelie. And I did; repeatedly.

Tonight Cloelie was bending over one of the trunks counting out something. I moved silently behind her, grabbed her breasts, and pressed myself against her. She gasped. The smell of fear wafted from her and my erection grew. “Buon giorno, Cloelie,” I growled in her ear.

“Antonius!” she yelped, twisting in my grasp. “Please, not here, not now, not today.” I smelt the salt tang of tears and ground my erection hard into her ass.

“Here, now, today, and everyday.” With one hand splayed across her chest holding her tightly, I used the other the rip away her undergarments; I hadn’t bothered with any myself. I began to push her forward over the chest.

“Please,” she begged, “Donna Antonia will hear you. Then Dio Decentius will be upset.”

“She will hear nothing in her Immortal slumber.” I thrust into her. She was tight. “Scream if you want, I don’t mind.”

Cloelie tossed her head in negation as I began thrusting. My hands moved through opens of her stola to her small breasts, pinching and pulling her nipples. It was this way every time; she started out in denial but through the use of Decentius’ blood I outlasted her and made her scream her pleasure. Tonight, furious as I was with Theophilus, I did not stop when she screamed. Her tears dripped down my arms but I did not stop. She was hoarse, her voice used up in screams and sobs, before I pulled out and stood before her with my wet and glistening erection.

Cloelie looked up at me, eyes pleading, but I growled and she took it in her mouth. She began to suck. She was not skilled, this child. How could she be when she had bleed as I took her not two days ago? But she was learning. Her tongue circled the tip of my phallus, and I began to spurt. “Suck it! Suck it all!” I demanded. She did, lips moving and throat bobbing; she knew the consequences. If she didn’t get it right the first time, I’d make her do it over and over until she did. The power of Decentius’ blood allowed that.

I grinned at the thought of Decentius’ blood defiling this pet of his and grew hard once more. With a smack to the forehead, I separated the girl from my loins and then from her clothes. As she mewled in terror, I hefted her across the room and lay her face down beside Donna Antonia. Cloelie knew who I imagined as used her.

I refused to finish inside her; I removed myself and came all over the sniffling girl’s back.

When I didn’t immediately penetrate her once more, Cloelie turned to look at me, semen glistening white against her back. “May… may I dress now?” Her face was wet but the smell of terror was receding. I didn’t mind; it’d come again soon enough.

My response was a mere shrug, but she scampered across the room, swinging her stola over her head, before returning to the exact stop where I had first grabbed her and continuing her work. “So,” I smiled as her twitched from her work to me, “which can I take out?”

Cloelie pointed from where she sat quivering like a bird who’s just spotted the cat. Her eyes followed me as I sloped to the trunk, swinging it smoothly onto my shoulder; the same shoulder I had hefted her onto earlier. She cringed, drawing back even though I was spans from her. As I trod from the room, I could feel her eyes flick to and fro; needing to watch me but not wanting to admit it even to herself.


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