The Emperor's Sister

"General Horatius to see the Lady!" announced the attendant, stepping out of the way of the smartly-dressed Roman Army officer. Horatius' face bore its customary expression of cold composure, but under his metal breastplate he sweated fountains of nervousness. Few things he had seen in battle unnerved him as much as the black-haired woman who watched him haughtily as he entered the chamber.

Cruel as she was arrogant, Crescentia had stood alongside her brother Claudius through his bloody, treacherous ascension to the throne of Rome. In every murderous deed her handprints could be seen, from the murder of Claudius' father by his palace guard to the blackmailing of several influential members of the Senate. Though Crescentia bore no formal title beyond "the Lady," as she was known by the populous, she knew that she was unquestionably the most powerful woman in Rome, and therefore probably in the world. Her cunning was often contrasted in private conversations to her brother's supposed bumbling naïveté.

Horatius bent down on one knee and kissed her hand respectfully. Crescentia withdrew it and motioned for him to sit facing her. With the raising of an eyebrow she commanded the door to be shut, leaving the two of them alone amidst the outrageous opulence of the Imperial palace.

"How fares my lady?" the general asked.

"Better and better," she answered with a half-smile. "My thanks for your quick response to my summons."

"Such matters warrant the greatest expedience," he answered gravely, and the two began to outline yet another treacherous plot.

***

The next morning, Crescentia's eyes opened to a flood of sunlight streaming over the city and through her ornate bedroom window. She exhaled, luxuriating in the comfort of her imported nightgown against the taught skin of her lithe frame. Her reverie was cut short by the violent entrance of a squad of elite palace guards.

The woman's eyes flashed viciously as she flung herself toward the bedside drawers and the daggers that they contained. A guard's massive hand encircled her wrist just in time to prevent her intended bloodshed.

"What is the meaning of this," she shouted officiously, showing no sign of fear. "I will have you executed for..."

"The prisoner will be silent," commanded the officer in charge of the squad. His haughty grin rivaled hers in intensity. "Escort her to His Majesty."

Courtesans, servants, and palace guests lined the hallway, looking on curiously as the infamous Crescentia was dragged from her room. She did not attempt to resist the huge guards, but her face bore an expression of hatred that made the onlookers step back, alarmed. Her long black hair was tousled from the arrest and her scanty bedclothes were a far cry from her usual regal robes.

Crescentia's first stab of fear occurred as the guards entered the Imperial hall and she made eye contact with her brother Claudius. Gone was the affectionate, trusting gaze with which he habitually met her. Replacing it was a steely, vengeful expression that seemed at odds with his personality. The guards dragged her forward and threw her to the ground at his feet.

"Get up," he ordered with contempt. Crescentia dusted herself off, squared her soldiers, and looked him in the face.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"You are under arrest for treason, conspiracy, and attempted murder." It was only with this answer that Crescentia recognized the figure of General Horatius standing beside his emperor, his eyes showing no mercy.

For an instant, brother and sister simply stared at each other. Everything had changed in that instant. No longer were they the dynamic pair who had risen to the top of Roman government together. No longer were they fellow conspirators, childhood playmates, or close confidants.

Claudius broke the spell of the moment by throwing a command to the guards. "Put her in shackles and prepare her for her punishment. As she defiled the name of this house, so shall she be defiled in front of the citizens of Rome."

***

Two days later, multitudes of Romans gathered at the Coliseum for the monthly shows. Such events were orgies of gladiatorial combat, slaughter of wild animals, and public punishment of criminals. Word of the feared Crescentia's arrest had spread like wildfire through the city, and though the exact nature of her punishment was left to speculation, all knew that it would be unique to her lofty rank and treacherous plot.

Crescentia gripped the bars of her holding cell just a few paces from the sunlit floor of the stadium. Two days of humiliating confinement had not broken her will or dulled her piercing gaze. The guards had been unusually silent and deferential to their charge, not laying a single unnecessary finger on her. Such respectful treatment was a far cry from the molestation that typically awaited female prisoners of the Roman guard. Crescentia could only conclude that orders regarding her treatment had been issued from the highest authority.

Gone were her regal robes. In their place, she wore a humiliating costume better suited to a harlot than to the most powerful woman in Rome. A bustier of bronze encircled her luscious breasts and a matching bronze thong held a tiny loincloth of pure white about her waist. Her feet were bare and her long hair was unrestrained. About her neck was an iron collar with a heavy chain dangling down to her bare midriff.

Then, suddenly, two enormous jailers opened the door to her cell. One grabbed the chain around her neck and dragged her forward and into the blazing sunlight of the Coliseum. She struggled to keep up to avoid being choked and dragged. The jeering crowd was deafening.

Her heart sank deep into her stomach as she saw the instrument of her punishment in front of her: stocks built into a platform in front of the Imperial pavilion. She had seen her female political rivals defiled by gladiators in these stocks from the comfort of that luxurious tent. Now the tables had truly turned. As the jailers hustled her up the wooden steps she tried desperately to dodge their hands, but the muscular men shoved her into the stocks as if she weighed nothing. Her hands and neck were immobilized by the wood and her feet were fasted to shackles mounted on the pole.

Now, with every possibility of movement eliminated, Crescentia could fully comprehend her position. She stood, bent at the waist, in front of a large portion of the citizens of Rome. Her dress left her body almost totally exposed, and she knew that in a moment she would likely be ravaged in front of these people. In front of women who envied her power. In front of men who despised her. In front of her brother.

Her eyes met his as he sat under the shaded awning of the Imperial pavilion, surrounded by advisors and courtesans. He gave her a sly smile and she knew that her fate was sealed.

A crier ascended the platform beside her and the crowd hushed to her him. "Be it known," he shouted, "that this woman was found to be plotting the overthrow of the Roman government. The laws of our Republic demand death for such a heinous crime, but because of her blood relation to the Emperor, he has elected to show her leniency." He stepped down the steps as the crowd buzzed in anticipation. And as he left the steps, a squad of six Roman soldiers, clad only in tunics, marched up and lined up behind her body.

"Form up!" shouted the first man in the line. His huge hand ripped the cloth from Crescentia's hips and then undid the clasp on her bronze thong. The woman screamed as she felt the man's fingers roughly probing her most vulnerable area. She tried to crane her head around to see his face but the stocks left her completely immobilized.

The guard's hand slapped her ass sharply. "Shut your mouth, you treacherous slut," he ordered. "You'll probably end up loving this."

The crowd's screams far overwhelmed Crescentia's as the first man removed his tunic, displaying his nude, muscular body to the shining sun. His five companions stood at attention as he took his huge, veined cock in hand, lined it up with Crescentia's sex, and drove it forward.

Crescentia's eyes rolled back into her head as she felt his rigid pole violate her. To her amazement, she was wet enough that he slid inside her with no resistance.

The guard laughed and laid his hands on her immobilized hips as he hit bottom. "Was I right?"

And then began the fucking of her life. Crescentia's chin flew backward and forward against the wood of the stocks in time with the guard's pounding. Her fists clenched and unclenched. On all sides, frenzied Romans cheered on her rape. And within her mind, she surrendered to a pleasure that she had never before known. She was a restrained animal. She was a fuck toy. She was a harlot. She lived only for the cock pounding into her again and again.

The guard's hand smacked her ass savagely and she squealed. "Are you ready for my cum, bitch?" he demanded.

"No, I..."

But it was too late. His hands held her hips in an iron grip as he rammed his cock all the way into her and let fly an explosion of hot cum. Crescentia drooled with the overwhelming intensity of it and the crowd roared.

The lead guard pulled his cock from her and wiped it on her ass. "Next!" he cried.

Immediately, the cock in her pussy was replaced by another equally huge specimen of manhood. Crescentia felt her body begin to betray her as her orgasm began, spurred on by the thought of being such a slut to so many soldiers. As the spat and swore her way through a climax, one of the guards stepped around to her face. For the first time she could glimpse one of her violators. He was huge and muscular, and his eyes glinted cruelly.

"Taste me," he ordered. To her amazement, she found herself opening her mouth meekly. The engorged head of his cock slid silkily against her lips and onto her tongue, and she enclosed it almost lovingly. Then the guard grabbed a thick handful of her hair and drove himself into her throat. At that moment, the second guard inside her erupted and flooded her with cum. It overflowed her and dripped down her restrained legs.

The next half-hour was a blur of brutal fucking. The last guard made a motion to the crowd from behind her, one that got him a roar of approval. He lined his massive pole up with her tightest hole. Crescentia was too far gone in her submission to do more than whisper, "Not there," but of course that had no effect. She groaned in a mixture of pain and lust as his cock stretched her virgin ass wide and pumped until it jetted torrents of cum inside her.

When he was done, the six soldiers again lined up behind her, replaced their tunics, and bowed. The crowd screamed for minutes on end. This had truly been a show worth remembering.

The Emperor raised a hand for quiet and the crowd quieted. "The punishment has been administered," he cried. "The prisoner shall now be transferred back to the palace, where she will live out her days in the service of the palace staff."

Clad only in her scanty bronze bustier, restrained in a position of total submission, and leaking sticky cum from every orifice, Crescentia was broken. Her sex throbbed at her brother's words as the jailer approached to lead her toward her new life.