19 Sextilis, Roman Year 738 (June 19
th
, 16 B.C.)
Vindobona, Noricum Federation (now Vienna, Austria)
*
General Otho Blandinus sized up his northern barbarian opponents on a barley field along the Danubius river, a thousand cubits away from the Vindobona city walls. Proudly straddling Rufus, a hulking red stallion in full body armor. He knew his massive army of five thousand well-armed and well-trained legionaries would easily defeat General Hroadant's ragtag peasant force of only two thousand. Otho was building up suspense, striking fear into the hearts of his opponents. Five years of training at the Imperial Martial Academy in Rome instilled a flair for the dramatic in that burly lothario. He loved war (and he loved women even more.)
Blandinus raised his sword high in the air, and barked out an order to begin the battle. The first well-organized rectangular cluster of infantrymen marching steadily forward. They were soon met by a disorganized horde of berserking northmen, running in zigzag patterns, screaming at the top of their lungs while swinging their swords like rabid man-dogs. The results were brutally predictable. Dozens and dozens of Noricum soldiers were skewered by long roman spears, or dismembered by tempered steel sabers and long spiked battleaxes, with nary a scratch on the roman side.
The first cluster of legionnaires soon retreated, and a fresh cluster swarmed in from behind, slaughtering more and more berserking northmen while maintaining a tight defensive formation. Two hundred roman archers lurked on the outer fringe, unleashing a hurricane of arrows into the sky. They landed on Noricum soldiers near the city walls, raising the body count even higher. The enemy responded with a feeble volley of fifty arrows. Otho ordered his troops to assume the "tortoise" formation, holding their shields aloft with no gaps between. The arrows wedged harmlessly into the roman shields. The soldiers hacked off the wooden shafts with their swords and went right back to hacking barbarians.
Otho's army repeated the process twenty times with twenty infantry divisions, and the fiasco grew absurd. The golden wheat beneath their leather boots was drenched with blood and gore, running in sickening sanguine rivulets toward the blue Danubius. General Hroadant's arrogance soon gave way to bitter acceptance, waving the white flag of surrender. Rome suffered only fifteen fatalities and thirty-eight injuries, while Hroadant's army was literally decimated. Another glorious victory by the will of the gods; annexing more land for the largest empire the world had ever seen. Stretching deep into the fertile Celtic lands, with plenty of sheep for tunics and barley for beer.
Hroadant formally surrendered to Otho at the royal palace in central Vindobona, presenting his sword as a war trophy. King Deotolf signed a sheepskin contract that turned him into Governor Deotolf, paying a stiff tribute of provincial revenues to the Imperial Treasury in Rome. The Noricum region also had many rich iron mines and skilled swordsmiths, so this victory would greatly bolster Augustus' plans to stretch his empire from Britannia to Persia.
But right now, General Blandinus didn't give a shit about Caesar's fucking empire. He just wanted to get drunk and get laid, just like his soldiers. He demanded to take Deotolf's finest courtesans to Rome as another war trophy, and the deposed monarch reluctantly obliged. Otho swung open the doors to the gilded royal harem, revealing seventy gorgeous women in sheer silk gowns that left very little to the imagination. Thirty blonde courtesans looked up from story scrolls with surprised expressions, catching the general's fancy.
"Ah yes, Caesar will surely enjoy those flaxen-haired maidens," Otho beamed in latin. "He grows weary of bedding too many feisty Italian brunettes."
"So do I," replied Junius Laurentius, Otho's First Lieutenant. "This tall large-breasted blonde is worth her weight in gold," he snickered, seizing that shapely courtesan by her slender right arm. The ladies murmured fearfully.
"Don't be afraid, my dears. We promise not to hurt you, and we promise to pay you well. Fifty
denari
for your first night of work."
"That's far more money than you flesh merchants have been earning in this backwater province," Junius added.
"I shall present these golden maidens to Caesar in a gilded cage, like Xerxes in his Persian prime!" Otho boasted.
His inner circle selected the ten most dazzling courtesans, herding them into a plain iron cage on a horse-drawn wagon. He ordered his soldiers to fill the cage with plush silk cushions, fine Danubian wine, and story scrolls in the Noricum language. Keeping their minds entertained before they "entertained" with their bodies. The soldiers coated the bars with golden paint to clearly signify their elite status. Those ten courtesans were reserved for Otho's elite inner circle. The cage would keep the common soldiers away from them, and also protect the ladies from abduction and
raptus
by roving highway gangs in the northern boondocks. Five other cages held male prisoners who would soon be slaving away in the growing metropolis of Rome. Building huge stone temples, palaces, and theaters to reflect Augustus' monumental ego. The story of Blandinus' conquest would soon be carved on a triumphal arch near the Capitoline Hill.
The roman army began their five hundred-mile journey back to the capital city. It would take four long weeks to get there, but Deotolf's blonde whores gave Otho's high staff plenty to look forward to in the meantime. The Danubian plain faded into the foothills of the Alpine mountains, with the sun quickly descending toward snow-capped peaks on the horizon. General Blandinus ordered his legion to set up camp along a babbling brook. He placed a crown of laurel leaves on his head like an Olympic champion, feeling like Bacchus. Reposing luxuriantly on velvet cushions in his tent, he nibbled on salty strips of lamb, sipped vintage Umbrian wine, and listened to the haunting strains of "Tandem Venit Amor," performed by his enlisted kithara players and percussionists with scabellums and cymbalums.
"Beautiful, beautiful. Good music sounds even better after winning a battle," Otho proclaimed, with the alcohol loosening his tongue and getting him in the mood for kinky sex. He whipped and fucked thousands of women during his twenty year military career; making no secret of his dominant alpha male libido.
"Music sounds better, and hot women look fucking amazing," quipped Quintus Sabina, his Second Lieutenant.
"We kicked plenty of ass, and now I want plenty of pussy. Fetch us those barbarian angels," Otho commanded his personal servants. They exited the tent and soon returned with ten shapely vixens.
"Come here, my dear," he said to the best-looking blonde. She sashayed over to him with the unnaturally seductive gait of women in her line of work. "Do you speak any latin?"
"Yes sir, General Blandinus," she replied with a thick Noricum accent. "We all do. Some more than others."
"It made sense for your king to teach his whores the language of his richer neighbors. Making sure his roman diplomats were well entertained . . . until diplomacy failed." He laughed warmly and stepped closer, feasting his brown eyes on her big sky blues.
"My name is Sigifirth, darling," she cooed, tossing her shiny bangs while tilting her head coquettishly.
"That's a lovely name. Take off your clothes, Sigifirth."
"Yes sir, General."
She removed her red fox fur coat, revealing the finest female body he'd ever seen. Her large pale breasts, flat sinous belly, and wide child-bearing hips made him whistle in amazement. His penis quickly rose to a full seven inches beneath a leather groin guard, and his virulent libido took full control.
"Get naked, the rest of you fucking whores. I'm in the mood for a bondage orgy under the stars."
"What a divine idea, Otho," beamed Lupus Marcellus, his man-at-arms. "A wicked erotic feast, honoring the glory of Mars."
The nine other blondes stripped nude, drawing appreciative cheers from the well-muscled military elite. They grabbed those war trophies by the arm and led them out to a warm starry night in the Noricum wilderness. A bonfire raged near the babbling stream, with hundreds of soldiers gathering round the flickering flames, savoring small rations of dried grain and watered-down wine. Otho's entire legion roared in appreciation.
"Admire these golden idols with your eyes, but not your hands," he warned loudly. "Only your commanding officers can entertain these royal courtesans. Consider them a big incentive to work your way up the ranks!"
