In her heart she feared what he might do but again told herself it was out of her hands. He would have to create his own destiny now. She could not, ...would not, allow herself to be used by Octavian or anyone else. She sat for a long time in the gloom and considered her plan. It would work she knew, or at least hoped, but at what price? She would have to give up everything, her station, her empire, even her name. But what other choice was left to her? To live as a prisoner of Rome? Even that was. The Prologue has been on this site for some time. Unfor¬tunately, the censors at Literotica rejected my first and second chapters. I have rewritten them, making sure that no overt sexual activity takes place until the participants are 18 years of age. All of the major characters are completely fictional and bear no resemblance to actual people, living or dead. To understand the story, you need to read the Prologue first. So, look it up under my name in the Author Index before proceeding with. The golden shadows of the flames outlined the unmistakable features of the younger Carstairs in the throes of a deeply felt ejaculation into the tightly clenched nether hole of the pretty serving girl whom he had thought too young to be in the company of so many rough fellows on a sporting weekend. For a moment, he thought the young female was reluctant to be used in such a manner by the son of her employer, but she thanked him for his attentions in a sweet voice as soon as he withdrew his. Ben pulled his shirt over his head and pulled his jeans off, kicking his shoes off at the same time. He pressed himself against me, kissing me deeply. His hands pulled the straps of my bra down my arms. One breast, then the other popped out of the bra and bounced off his chest. Ben unhooked my bra and began pinching my nipples as he kissed down my neck. “Oh god Ben, that feels so good.” I said as he took a nipple in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His other hand pushed my panties aside.