One Morning in Potaissa - Gang Rape Galore

[Lucius]

Teaser: Rectus eased his hips forward and down. His bulbous cock-head pierced Ziptia’s opening, gaining a half-inch or so. Proculus marvelled at the incredibly obscene sight of the long, magnificently engorged cock wedged in the well-sculpted arse of the woman rebel. He saw her nether-ring strain and stretch as the man pushed harder. Tears streaming down her dirty face, Ziptia waited breathlessly as the huge, hot shaft seared into her forbidden hole.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life.
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Title: One Morning in Potaissa
Author: Lucius
Content Warnings: Violence, threats of violence and death, killings and male-on-male rape mentioned in passing. No descriptions of tortures or executions, except for the brief mentions of the after-effects of flogging.
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Written for the Gang Rape Galore contest.

Potaissa (now Turda in Romania), the Roman cavalry regiment mentioned in the text and the general Statius Priscus belong to the domain of real life, as do the Dacian rebellion suppressed by Priscus and the mere fact of Antoninus Pius’ jubilee celebrations. The rest is invented.
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One Morning in Potaissa

Potaissa, Upper Dacia

25 April AD 158

‘Domine, Rectus is back! Them boys been in a fight! They’ve taken prisoners too!’

Valerius Proculus, the prefect of the Second Ala of Pannonians, acknowledged the young soldier who had brought the news and quickly exited his tent. Rectus’ squadron was making its way down the main north–south-oriented street of the camp—the street that should have been the main one, Proculus corrected himself.

Half a century had elapsed since Trajan triumphed over the Dacians, but the Roman army had to suppress yet another uprising. Proculus’ ala had left the permanent camp for Potaissa, the temporary seat of old Statius Priscus, the formidable governor of Upper Dacia.

Priscus was waging his war from Potaissa, and the garrison of the town was swollen with the innumerable vexillations of the Thirteenth Legion, alae, auxiliary cohorts, numeri, military slaves and camp-followers. With detachments always leaving and coming back, keeping the orderly alignment of streets within the camp was impossible.

Proculus waited for the cavalrymen to approach. No missing soldiers and horses—so far so good. Sulpicius Rectus, a tall, lean, wiry, dark-haired officer from Spain, a look of great satisfaction on his face, dismounted and saluted his commander.

‘Make your report, decurion. What has happened?’

‘Domine, a dozen Dacians lay in wait for our regular patrol at the fourth milestone going the Napoca way. We got them good,’ Rectus smiled. ‘Two of ours lightly wounded, nine brigands dead. Captured three—one of ’em a girl!’ Rectus’ smile broadened.

‘Well done, decurion. Let’s have a look at the captives.’

‘Hey, Bato-o!’ Rectus shouted. ‘Get over here! Bring all prisoners before the prefect, quick!’

Bato the big-nosed Illyrian took his mount forward, a body that was unmistakably female slung like a sack of corn across the withers of his horse.

‘Why did they take the girl with them—to play a damsel in distress before our patrolmen, entice them into an ambush?’ Proculus enquired, looking at the dangling bare feet of the captive.

‘I don’t know about distress, domine, but this she-wolf swung her sword, fury-like, until Bato rode her down,’ Rectus’ eyes narrowed. ‘She must be as hard as any of the Mauretanian bitches you like to tell stories about.’

Proculus nodded. Mauretania, Syria and now Dacia—it was the third military appointment for the Roman knight from Umbria. Proculus was doing his part preserving the Roman peace, defending the cities of Mauretania Tingitana against Moorish raiders and hunting Arabian brigands in Syria. The fresh uprising is Dacia might be difficult to deal with, but Statius Priscus brought with him the invaluable experience of the terrible Jewish War fought in the last years of Hadrian’s great reign. Having subdued the Jews for all time, they would subdue the Dacians too, Proculus thought.

‘Come on, she-wolf!’ Rectus roughly grabbed the bound wrists of the girl, pulled her down and turned her around to face Proculus. Bato and another Illyrian cavalryman, Platino, got off their horses and gripped the shoulders of the captive.

She was a young woman, barely twenty years old. Proculus had a good look at the bold features of her flushed, tanned, coarsely pretty face framed by wild dark tresses, meeting the glare of her large eyes of deep hazel with cold disdain. Her heaving breasts showed plainly under the thin, sweat-soaked fabric of her short tunic.

‘Do you speak Latin, woman?’ Proculus asked slowly. The girl remained silent. So did the two men captured along with her when brought before the prefect.

‘Well, I’m off to see the governor then,’ Proculus said. ‘He’s holding court later today to dispose of the prisoners,’ he pointed at the large wooden cage holding six miserable-looking young men captured earlier by the soldiers of his ala. ‘I think he would like to hear what our fresh captives have to say as well.’

‘The torturers of the Thirteenth are going to be tired!’ Rectus laughed.

‘Indeed, Rectus. Indeed. Cinnamus, my horse!’

‘Permission to have the captives, erm, yoked while we wait, domine?’ Rectus’ eyes were full of hope.

Proculus’ lips curled slightly. ‘Bearing the yoke’ was a well-known euphemism for violation.

‘Permission granted,’ Proculus said evenly, stroking his short beard. ‘However, Rectus, you’re going with me—knowing the governor, he’d want to hear everything firsthand,’ he turned away and strode towards his steed.

The face of the decurion fell. ‘By Hercules...’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Oh well. Bato!’ Rectus said loudly. ‘She’s all yours, then it’s Platino’s turn…’ He started to walk away towards his horse, then froze as he lit upon an idea. ‘Remember, her arse is mine! You want to bugger someone, have a go at those two brutes! Actually, tie them to the cage on the outside!’
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Ziptia knew three things for certain.

She knew a little Latin.

She knew she was in for a very bad time.

She knew it was the last day of her young life too. She might see another dawn or two from her cross, but then she would already belong to death.

Her brother had been killed by the Romans about an hour ago, fighting alongside her. Ziptia was certain that she would see him again soon.

The soldier they called Bato, the one who took her captive, grabbed the neck of her tunic, twisting it in his large fist, then ripped it open. The thin fabric tore to her waist. Bato licked his lips at the sight of her breasts as they bounced free. Full, round, sat high on her chest, her lovely mounds were crowned with pert dark nipples. Grinning, he took a good hold of her right tit and dug his fingers deep into the sweat-slick flesh.

Ziptia willed herself to remain impassive.

‘Men! Get the stakes!’ shouted Platino, tearing the rest of Ziptia’s garments off her body. The soldiers of the ala were gathering round, leering, feasting their eyes upon her nakedness. Swept up in a flurry of pushes, slaps, pinches, grabs and tugs, Ziptia was dragged aside until someone kicked her legs from under her.

They untied her wrists only to stake her out on the hard-packed ground, lying on her naked back, her arms and legs stretched to the utmost and tied with rawhide strips to wooden stakes driven deep into the earth, leaving her motionless, her eyes level with the boots and hooves. Her heart thudding, Ziptia raised her head, sending a death stare at Bato.

‘Come on, Bato!’

The soldiers cheered as Bato stripped off his armour and rucked up his tunic, showing her his cock, pumping it a few times before settling down between her legs. Bato stroked her breasts, her stomach, ruffled up nonchalantly the triangle of coarse dark hair between her legs, then placed the whole weight of his body upon her. He puckered his lips, lowered his head to her left breast and latched his mouth at the edge of her large brown areola, painfully sucking and nipping at her sensitive skin.

‘Mark her tit well!’ Platino said with a leer.

Ziptia started to squirm under the cavalryman, struggling against her restraints. His cock, thick and heavy, was stiffening and straining against the smooth skin of her thigh.

‘I curse your bones, your marrow, you muscles, your cock!’ Ziptia hissed in Dacian. ‘Zalmoxis and Bendis, hear me… Ahhh!’

Her rapist let go of her breast and delivered a vicious backhand across her face. Ziptia saw stars and tasted blood in her mouth. Her groan turned into a startled gasp, eyes round with shock, when Bato roughly stuck two calloused fingers inside her bone-dry love-channel, probing her flesh.

‘You sure know how to get a wench’s attention, Bato!’ laughed Platino. ‘Found her maidenhead yet?’

‘Eh, long gone, brother!’ Bato waved his hand, then spat copiously on his fingers and stuck them inside Ziptia again.

‘Come on, man! Fuck her now!’

Bato appraised the large, dark suck-bruise he had made on Ziptia’s breast, then pulled his fingers out and lined up his body with hers. The blood-engorged tip of his cock spread her tender folds. A harsh thrust of his hips—and he was inside her, splitting her open on his thick shaft as the assembled soldiers shouted hoarsely, looking down at the scrunched-up face of a woman just taken brutally against her will.

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[Shocker]

Another one of hour excellent period pieces. You have a great skill in bringing facets of the roman empire to live.

[Shocker]

@Lucius I think I still owe you a bit more detailed response to your story, i was a bit pressed for time earlier and tickled pink by the thought of having the last post in all contest entries.

I really enjoyed how you use the situation, Ziptia having given up on her live still feels the indignity of rape. Just to learn that anal rape is such a time honored tradition to really break resistance. Still facing immediate death, to get a reprieve for a even greater spectacle. Your writing sheds excellent light on her inner feelings.

[Lucius]

@Lucius I think I still owe you a bit more detailed response to your story, i was a bit pressed for time earlier and tickled pink by the thought of having the last post in all contest entries.

I really enjoyed how you use the situation, Ziptia having given up on her live still feels the indignity of rape. Just to learn that anal rape is such a time honored tradition to really break resistance. Still facing immediate death, to get a reprieve for a even greater spectacle. Your writing sheds excellent light on her inner feelings.

I was thinking about giving Ziptia some backstory, but then I decided to write her as a bit of a blank slate wiped clean by the expectation of imminent tortuous death -- defined by defiance only, in a manner of speaking. It's good to know that I've achieved some success in writing her.

[RapeU]

1) What did I immediately feel after reading this
2) What I love about what I read
3) What would I change in the story to make it perfect (for me)
4) Did I get off on this and why

1) This story contest is going to be tough, and stories like this motivate me into improving my own writing.

2) You crafted the story well, I felt like I was with the Roman soldiers. Switching between the solder's point of view to Ziptia's was well done too.

3) I didn't understand the story description before the story started, but that could just be me being tired. Once I started reading the story I began to understand. Also, I think I missed it but I don't see the theme in there of "two out of three ain't bad." It's probably subtle in there somewhere and I just missed it.

4) No, but that's just due to timing. Parts of the story are definitely future wanking material.

[Lucius]

3) I didn't understand the story description before the story started, but that could just be me being tired. Once I started reading the story I began to understand. Also, I think I missed it but I don't see the theme in there of "two out of three ain't bad." It's probably subtle in there somewhere and I just missed it.

Not sure about the description thing—the teaser? It's just Rectus about to stick his, ahem, weapon of choice into Ziptia's shapely bum.

As for the two out of three, it's spelt out in the end, although perhaps in a through-a-glass-darkly way.

Knowing a little Latin, having a very bad time at the hands of the Romans—these two things mattered still.

She had been wrong about dying on that day. She could live with that mistake.

[RapeU]

3) I didn't understand the story description before the story started, but that could just be me being tired. Once I started reading the story I began to understand. Also, I think I missed it but I don't see the theme in there of "two out of three ain't bad." It's probably subtle in there somewhere and I just missed it.

Not sure about the description thing—the teaser? It's just Rectus about to stick his, ahem, weapon of choice into Ziptia's shapely bum.

No, this part.

Potaissa (now Turda in Romania), the Roman cavalry regiment mentioned in the text and the general Statius Priscus belong to the domain of real life, as do the Dacian rebellion suppressed by Priscus and the mere fact of Antoninus Pius’ jubilee celebrations. The rest is invented.

I had to read that three times before giving up and just diving into the story, but this is likely an issue on my end because I stayed up too late last night and am paying for it today lol.

As for the two out of three, it's spelt out in the end, although perhaps in a through-a-glass-darkly way.

Aye, now I see it. Clever way to incorporate the theme!

[Lucius]

No, this part.

Potaissa (now Turda in Romania), the Roman cavalry regiment mentioned in the text and the general Statius Priscus belong to the domain of real life, as do the Dacian rebellion suppressed by Priscus and the mere fact of Antoninus Pius’ jubilee celebrations. The rest is invented.

I had to read that three times before giving up and just diving into the story, but this is likely an issue on my end because I stayed up too late last night and am paying for it today lol.

Ah, thanks! I see -- I've viewed this bit not as a story description but as a general comment on the bits of the story anchoring it IRL.

[AdmiralPiet]

Yay! Imperium Romanum!
This reminds me of how I mentioned to a friend a few days ago: No matter how likable and badass someone makes his band of barbarian rebels.
Once the "camera" pans over to the bad guys and it is something like: Legio VIII Augusta, Legate Marcus Cornelius Maximus in command I go: "Rome! Rome! Rome!"
(Or "Rule Britania" depending on the setting :D )

So this story went right up my alley.
Can't really offer any constructive criticism on the writing style. I liked it, and it was easy reading, but its all pretty subjective.
Maybe if I read more, or read again.

I liked that you incorporated that she could not speak fluent latin when she spoke to Priscus. Small detail, but a good one.

Also nice to have the other two captives buggered as well. Could have even been expanded a bit.

The hottest part for me is right after her sentence though. And it leaves me thorn.
Just like a picture I have seen a while ago where the woman had her back covered in whip scars that part really fired up my imagination.
How was she tied? How did the soldiers go about it? Imagining her hanging in her bonds, suffering greatly.
What went through her head after the first dozen ripped up her back and she realised she had only went a third of the way.

On the other hand: I do like a good whipping scene and would like to see how you, not I, imagined it to go down.

A mistake I spotted:

Half a century had elapsed since Trajan triumphed over the Dacians, but the Roman army had to suppress yet another uprising

You repeat this exact part a few paragraphs further down.

[Lucius]

The hottest part for me is right after her sentence though. And it leaves me thorn.
Just like a picture I have seen a while ago where the woman had her back covered in whip scars that part really fired up my imagination.
How was she tied? How did the soldiers go about it? Imagining her hanging in her bonds, suffering greatly.
What went through her head after the first dozen ripped up her back and she realised she had only went a third of the way.

On the other hand: I do like a good whipping scene and would like to see how you, not I, imagined it to go down.

I like writing whip very much, but I've envisaged this story as a violation and not a flagellation one. A long flogging session skirts the 'People getting slowly tortured to death for the sexual gratification of another, with or without consent, is not allowed' prohibition because no one wants to kill Ziptia at the moment, but then again: 'As a rule of thumb: If the degree of violence you have in mind could be shown in any generic action movie you are likely fine.' Ziptia's whipping would've gone a bit beyond that. Let's say I leave it to the readers' imagination.

A mistake I spotted:

Half a century had elapsed since Trajan triumphed over the Dacians, but the Roman army had to suppress yet another uprising

You repeat this exact part a few paragraphs further down.

How did it happen... I'll be...

Edited. Most thankful!