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Calictus sat at my feet, his legs wrapped around my feet, his hands resting softly on my knees. He was an odd sort of servant for a brothel, but now was not the time to inquire. His pale eyes blinked up at me, waiting.
“I am an Immortal shadow, and I did it because that is how I feed,” I said.
His brow furrowed and his lip rose, he looked adorably confused. “I do not understand, what is an Immortal shadow, Donna?”
I stared a long moment, my fingers twining through his hair as I thought. “How old do you think I am, Calictus?
He blushed and looked at the floor. “It is not proper to speculate on such things, Donna.”
I chuckled, “True. But be assured, your answer will not offend me.” Or if it did, I would not let him know.
“Twenty-one?” Calictus replied hesitantly.
Now his entire face was red. “Twenty-four,” he murmured. I wiped the surprise from my face before he lifted his eyes from the floor.
“I was twenty-three when I was raised,” I replied. “five years ago.” He sputtered some polite reply, and I took his hand. “Here,” I placed it over my heart, “feel.” Calictus tried to pull his hand away but I restrained him. Once he finished his meaningless protests his face went still.
Calictus looked up at me, shock and denial written on his face. He rose to knees leaned into my chest, his ear against my heart. He waited. A long moment passed with nothing but the sound of his breath and the rustle of the blankets. “Nothing. There is nothing,” he finally said.
I shook my head, “No, there is not. A heartbeat would mark me as mortal, and I am not. I am a shadow that exists at the edges of things, between the mortals and the Gods. And you,” I took his face in my hand, “shall serve me.”
He nodded and bent his head to my lap, pulling my stola up over my knees. I laughed, loudly and with no grace. Placing my hands on his face, my fingers at the sides of his narrowed eyes, I pulled Calictus up until he was sitting beside me once again. He looked perplexed, ready to inquire.
“Shh,” I murmured, placing a finger over his lips. I glanced at my nails but they were not sharp enough. Then I spied something winking silver hanging from Euphemia’s old guardaroba; a silver hairpin, ornate, gaudy, and extremely sharp. I plucked it from where it hung, held it o my ear. As I began to draw it downward along my neck, I heard Calictus’ gasp.
“Donna, what? Donna!” The blankets rustled as he rose, and I heard his feet thud on the floor before his hands wrenched me around to face him. The blood oozed down my neck, a small pool forming at the top of my collar bone. “What have you done! You will mar your beauty!” I smiled at his distress and pulled him against me. His thick hair caressed my wrist as I pressed his lips to my collarbone.
He kissed it, as I had known he would, and drew his tongue upwards along the cut. Pausing at the top, I heard him swallow. I smiled and bent my neck.
It is difficult to give the obvious signs of pleasure when one breathes only for speech; gasping gulps of air are painful, as is the fullness necessary to raise my breasts. I did it, though; I gasped in pleasure, not entirely feigned, but it was brief, a short, sharp gasp.
Calictus lifted his head, his lips smeared with my blood, his face flushed. Smiling, I walked across to the low table beside my bed and fetched the pitcher of water. “Drink,” I said, raising it to his lips. Calictus smiled, and drank, his eyes not leaving mine.
He returned the pitcher to its table, turning it so the mural of Aphrodite and her lover faced outward. “I am here to serve you,” he said as knelt at my feet. Slowly his hands slid up my legs, lifting the folds of my stola out of the way. Slowly he kissed my thighs, drawing his tongue ever upward. His fingers slipped inside the edge of my undergarments, searching for the source of my pleasure. When they found it, I moaned.
Calictus was skilled: with one hand he stroked me, and my loins began to ache; with his lips he traced the edges of thighs, my loins, taunting; with the other hand he undid my undergarments and they fell with a damp plop to the floor. The moment they were gone, his warm mouth began its work. His tongued moved slowly, then quickly, then slowly until I grabbed his head and drove it into my loins. I felt his warm breath as he chuckled, but his tongue resumed its pace.
With tongue, lips, and teeth, he brought me shuddering to climax; second only to that I enjoyed with Decentius. The boy was really very well trained.
“Thank you,” I murmured when he rose, licking my juices from his face. “I will see you again.” He nodded. I pressed my mouth to his, but his hands caught me from behind and clutched me tightly. I did not need to move against him to feel the length of his erection, but he moaned as I did so. A few tight squeezes and he came. I kissed his forehead and whispered, “Later we shall do things properly.”
Calictus smiled. “I await your call, Donna Antonia.”
I felt his eyes follow me as I sauntered toward the door. Turning my head, I caught his eye and beckoned him with a nod. If this Roman were who I hoped, it would be best to have my own servanti along. Besides, I wanted to see what happened when Calitcus discovered his new strength.
His steps pattered behind me as I trod down the stairs. I nodded at Calictus as he headed for the door to await the night’s final patron, and I turned toward the kitchen. In the kitchen I found Diamaninta and Cloelie sleepily counting the night’s proceeds and laughing over the stories the girls had told them.
“Donna,” they nodded. I walked past and out into the courtyard behind. The breeze that blew across my face was warm and wet; it told of dawn and rain to come. Behind me the thunk, thunk of the door warned that I was not alone.
“He has arrived, Donna,” Cloelie called. As I turned, I saw her framed in the first touches of light, her shadow thrown large behind her.
I walked through the kitchen, where Diamantina’s head nodded sleepily as she sat counting coins, down the tapestried hall to the salon where I spied Calictus waiting. He took my arm and escorted me in.
There was only the one candle flickering its light upon the room but the man waiting did not seem to mind. He was not seated; instead he stood beside the undrawn curtains staring at the room. He smirked when he saw me, his eyes scanning from top to bottom and back, resting where the top of my stola dipped between my breasts.
“Donna,” he bowed, “I am Fabricius.” He smelt of lavender, and his dark hair hung in a cable down his back. I curtsied in return. “My master Iulianus Marus has sent me to determine if your establishment befits his patronage.”
I shooed Calictus with a wave of my arm. “Come,” I said, “Let us discuss the matter somewhere more appropriate.” Fabricius’ smirk grew, but he took my arm and allowed me to lead him to my room barely glancing at the tapestries as we passed.
He let go of my arm the moment we entered, glanced around, dropped his tunic on the floor and lay back on my bed. His words and his erection were direct, “If you can wear me out, I shall recommend you to my master.” He licked his lips, his eyes fixed upon my breasts as I dropped my stola to the floor. They stayed there as I sashayed across the floor. His fingers reached for my nipples as I rose over him. He began to grab and pull at them even as I slid down his length.
I rocked upon him as he sucked my breasts; his breath barely increased. I rode faster, squeezing his phallus with my inner muscles; he gasped and began to buck beneath me. As his thrusting increased, his took his lips from my breasts, replacing them with his hands.
Finally he groaned loudly and I felt a trickle run down my thigh; I smiled. Fabricius breathed deeply and grabbed my buttocks. I felt him grow hard within me once more. My smirk matched his own as he said, “It’s not that easy, Donna.”
Fabricius was nearly as insatiable as Decentius, though he never moved from his spot beneath me. Five times he came, his hardness returning again and again with barely a moment between. When he pushed me off him to kneel at the foot of the bed, I was almost glad; I would require a long bath to remove all his fluids. He sat up, but his erection did not. I held my smile. The moments passed and finally he was erect once more, though not as fully as when he had first lain down. I took him in my mouth, my tongue working his length, flitting in and out of his foreskin. I heard his moans become pleas, and his pleas become incoherent. When he came scarcely a trickle ran down my throat.
I licked my lips and looked up from where I knelt. Fabricius lay back upon the bed breathing deeply, his phallus limp and shriveled. “You win,” he moaned, propping himself on one arm. He staggered up from the bed and donned his tunic. “Donna,” he murmured, “if you can defeat me so well my master shall surely wish to see you.”
I lifted my stola over my head, and heard a loud jingle of coin as I tied it at my waist. Fabricius took my hand and kissed it before I led him back to the front door.
“Donna,” he murmured patting my hand, “my master shall call upon you an hour after sundown tomorrow.”
I nodded and let him go. As I returned to my room, I saw Cloelie dart down the hall.