I had been carrying on an affair with Druscilla for several months. On average we met once a week, which was sufficient, as we both had other lovers demanding our time. She was a beautiful, almost nymph-like creature. Her petite frame constantly vibrated with nervous energy. This energy vented itself through her intense sex drive--a night with her required no less than three copulations, and more if I was capable. When she wasn't crawling on top of me in search of more sex, she was chattering away like a fluttering, neurotic little bird. She apparently couldn't sleep in the company of men, and would remain wide awake until the sun came up and I had cause to leave.
I suspect Druscilla was very lonely despite her busy social life and stable of lovers.
Her brother, Sajanus, was the right hand man to our Emperor Tiberius. Sajanus had
married her off to her current husband, Gaius, for political reasons. Gaius had no time for
her, and she claimed he had not shared her bed in over two years. In many ways she was
treated like a political pawn by both her husband and brother.
Sajanus had been plotting to overthrow Tiberius, when the plan became was uncovered, Sajanus was executed within hours. A list of his accomplices was drawn up, and soldiers were sent out to rid the city of the political traitors.
The streets of our city were filled with angry, rioting mobs. In the quiet, elegant quarters of Rome's elite, dozens of political conspirators were faced with the choice of ending their own lives or waiting until the soldiers rammed down the doors of their homes and did the task for them.
I did not know it, but Druscilla's name was on the list of conspirators to be executed; not as a result of her actions, but as a result of her relations. Gaius was also involved in the plot against the Emperor, but he was never found, and he probably managed to escape the city in the dead of night unharmed. I seriously doubt that she was even aware of the plot against Tiberius, and even if bits of information were whispered in her presence, she was not bright enough nor interested enough to have understood the significance of the matter.
Battalions of soldiers were sent into the streets to control the civil unrest. I was among them, and was ordered to patrol the streets in one of Rome's most affluent neighborhoods. Druscilla's home was in this quarter of the city. The streets in this section were quiet, as soldiers had already barricaded the perimeter of the wealthy neighborhood to prevent any chance of looting.
I found myself walking near her home and felt an obligation to check on her welfare. When I arrived at her house I was surprised to see her servant, Agripina, in a state of near panic. I couldn't understand why Agripina, a calm, sensible middle-aged woman, would be overreacting to the situation like this.
Agripina grabbed me by the arm and pulled me quickly into the house, locking the door behind me, and saying in a hushed, nervous tone of voice, "Oh, Marcus, thank the merciful Gods you're here!"
I asked her what was wrong, and started to reassure her that everything would be fine, when she told me they had gotten word that Druscilla's name was on the list of those to be executed.
"I don't know what to do! Our lady is in a state of complete hysteria. She has tried to end her life honorably, but she doesn't have the strength to do it. She opened a vein, but the wound wasn't deep enough, and now she has lost her nerve". Agripina began pulling me towards Druscilla's room, saying, "Please talk to her. Calm her down. She won't listen to me, she is losing her wits. I don't know what I can do to help her."
When we reached Druscilla's chamber door. I knocked quietly, and said, "Druscilla? It's Marcus."
A few seconds later the door flew open and a hysterical, blood-drenched Druscilla threw herself in my arms, crying uncontrollably. She looked up at me, her large blue eyes brimming over with tears, and started ranting in a high-pitched, panic-ridden voice. "Marcus! They're coming for me! They are coming! And I tried to do the right thing... I tried, but I can't do it! I can't do it!"
Offering proof of her attempt she held her wrist up and showed me the deep gash. Copious amounts of blood were evident in her hair, on her dress, everywhere. But the wound was not sufficient and the blood eventually coagulated, stopping the flow.
She was clinging to me... clawing at my chest plate desperately, when she said, "You've got to help me, Marcus. I am not strong enough to do this myself. You've got to help me end this before they come!" With that she grabbed my sword and quickly pulled it from its sheath. She thrust the grip into my hand, stepped back and placed the tip of the blade between her small, fragile breasts.
I studied her for a moment, tears pouring down her face, her small frame clad in the blood-soaked gown. She looked desperately in my eyes and said, "Do it Marcus, do it for me!"
I had not committed myself to delivering the blow she desired; however, the weight of the sword felt awkward in my hand, and I adjusted my grip slightly. She saw the movement and thought it telegraphed a fatal thrust. She let out a sharp scream and jerked away from the blade.
Call me a coward if you like. But seeing her cringe in fear took the courage right out of me. During my military career I have fought in several territorial uprisings and have put at least a dozen men to the sword. Killing men who would have gladly killed me if given the chance is one thing. Driving my blade into the chest of a quivering, terrified female half my size was something this warrior simply could not do.
She looked at me sadly, realizing that I had been considering her request, but that her show of fear had stopped me. She started to sob again and I took her in my arms and comforted her. Someone had to be strong and deal with this dire situation, and apparently the task had fallen on me.
I called to Agripina and a few seconds later she opened the door and peered in at us cautiously. "Bring some bandages, a sponge, and a bowl of water. I need to clean her up. And bring some wine, lace it with something to settle her nerves."
Letting the sword drop to the floor, I swept Druscilla into my arms, she felt light in my grasp, and clung to my neck, sobbing quietly. I carried her over to the canopied bed, brushed the thin veils aside, and laid her down.
She sat up on the bed and rubbed the tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands, trying to compose herself, her chest still heaving with violent sobs. Agripina returned quickly with a tray and laid it on the bed. I took the goblet of wine from the tray and held it to Druscilla's lips. She refused the offering, and shook her head obstinately.
With a firm, patient tone I said, "Druscilla, listen to me. I am going to help you through this. But in order to help you... you have got to do as I say. Do you understand?"
She seemed reassured by a firm voice, and she nodded obediently. When I held the chalice to her lips she began to drink the laced wine, finally taking the goblet from my hand and continuing to sip it on her own.
"Give me your wrist." She offered me her thin arm, and I began to gently clean around the jagged wound with a soft sponge. Once the wound was clean I bandaged it with gauze.
I undid the belt of her gown, and brushed it off her narrow shoulders, exposing her delicate form, then carefully cleaned the smudges of blood from her shoulders and neck. She raised her arms for me as I wiped the blood from her torso and small, perfect breasts. I took my time, and could see she was beginning to relax. She laid back against the pillows and closed her eyes, spreading her legs for me as I wiped the last traces of blood from her inner thighs. Twice Agripina was summoned to bring us fresh water.
As she sipped the last of the wine, I massaged her calves and worked the last of the tension from her body. She looked at me with soft, sleepy blue eyes, and said, "Marcus? Lay with me for a little while, please."
After dimming the oil lamps, I removed my armor and clothing, as it was unlikely she would find snuggling up to a gilded chest plate all that comfortable. I laid down next to her and she molded her body to mine, resting her head on my chest. I stroked her hair and waited for the drugged wine to take full affect.
A few minutes passed; her breathing slowed. Just when I thought she had fallen asleep, she began to stir. She moved slowly and languidly, running her fingers down my chest. Then her mouth came alive and worked its way down my stomach. Her hand began to stroke my cock. It had always had a mind of its own; even under these dark circumstances it was ready and willing for action.
Druscilla had a real talent for giving oral pleasure. When she licked my cock it seemed as if she were paying homage to some ancient phallic god. She stroked every inch of it from the base to the tip with long, slow laps of her tongue. After this part of the ritual was completed to her satisfaction, she would slowly slide her lips over the head, moving up and down, taking a little more in her mouth and throat with every stroke. She had exquisite timing, and when she finally took the full length into her throat, it was a pleasure so heavily anticipated my whole body would jump in response to it.
As much as she enjoyed giving oral pleasure, she always believed an erect cock's ultimate purpose was to satisfy her, and insisted that it find its way between her legs before its job was done. After teasing me endlessly with her agile tongue, she mounted me. Taking my member firmly in her delicate hand, she began rubbing her clit against the rigid shaft. She closed her eyes, and moved against my tool in a circular motion, moaning softly. She brought herself to the brink of orgasm, then stopped and raised her hips enough to guide my swollen cock into her hot, soaking wet opening.
The combination of drugs and wine took the element of nervous energy out of her. She rocked back and forth, completely lost in the sensation between her legs. After a short time, her movements became more urgent, and her body began convulsing as the powerful waves of her orgasm gripped her. Feeling her muscles contract and her hands claw into my chest, I grabbed her firmly by the hips and drove myself into her hard, climaxing immediately.
Afterwards she lay quietly on top of me for a short time. Then she broke the silence. "Marcus, I'm ready now." She raised her head and looked at me. "You will help me, won't you?
I answered back quietly. "Yes."
She rose and I watched as her slender figure crossed the room and picked up the dagger from the table. She crawled back into the bed and handed me the blade, which already bore dark red stains from her previous attempt.
Her voice was tired and hollow when she said, "Marcus, this is suicide. Your hand may drive the blade, but that is only a kindness you are showing me, nothing more."
She laid up against the pillows, and folded her knees underneath her. I sat up and positioned myself in front of her. She stretched her arms up and grabbed the drapery over the bed firmly, stretching her torso.
When I placed the tip of the knife between her breasts she looked down at the blade and I could sense her fear building once again. I cradled her chin in my hand and raised her face. "No, look into my eyes Druscilla." When her gaze obediently met mine I asked, "Do you trust me?"
She stared at me intently for a moment, then nodded her head and said, "Yes... I trust you, Marcus."
"Give me your hand." She unclenched the drapery from her fist and offered her right hand. I kissed her open palm and placed it over the hilt of the blade, covering mine.
Then, with no hesitation, I thrust the dagger deep into her breastbone. The blade
pierced her heart, finding its mark with clean and accurate precision. Her eyes widened
and she stared at me with a look of shock; then she choked and gasped, blood spurting
around the snugly fit blade. Her hand clawed violently at the drapery, ripping the thin
material. While I am certain her death throws lasted only a few seconds, it seemed as if
time had stopped, and those seconds stretched out into an eternity. Finally she went limp
and slumped towards me, her head falling onto my shoulder. I held her in my arms and
rocked her for a while, stroking her soft hair. Then I gently laid her back against the
pillows. I gazed into her dim blue eyes; I would like to say she looked peaceful, but she
did not. She looked small, wounded, and heartbreakingly innocent.
It was suicide, so her right hand needed to be removed for separate burial. There was no point in making Agripina struggle with that gruesome task. I retrieved my sword and severed Druscilla's right hand at the wrist. Then I carefully laid her fragile body out on the bed. I opened her mouth, slipped a coin under her tongue, and kissed her softly on the lips. Then closed her eyes and turned away.
When I left Druscilla's chamber Agripina greeted me in the hall, looking haggard and on the verge of collapse. I told her it was over, and she looked down, relieved that the ordeal was done, and not yet fully accepting the demise of her mistress. I headed slowly for the door, and she followed, opening it for me and touching my arm as I exited she said, "Thank you for being here.... thank you so much."
I didn't respond, but simply turned away and began heading down the dark, quiet street. Four soldiers passed me a few paces from her home, and we exchanged salutes. A few seconds later I heard a loud rapping sound, and turned to see the soldiers standing on Druscilla's doorstep.