Decius IV
She was a beautiful woman. Her height was average, but nothing else about her was. Her golden hair hung to her naked waist, her perfectly shaped breasts hung full and round on her white chest, crowned by soft, pearly pink nipples that stood up in the cool air of the midsummer evening. Every inch of her was perfection, reflected Lucilla Arcarius.
Lucilla regarded her slave girl with a critical eye. Her servants had bought the girl Aria in the slave market a week prior, and even as she looked down her long, patrician nose at them, she had to concede that they had done well. Teaching the girl to play her part had taken time, as she barely spoke even Auric Vulgar, but at last Lucilla was convinced the girl was ready, and not a day too soon. Lucilla paced an impatient circle around Aria in her salon, tapping one elegant finger against her crystal goblet as she swirled the dark red wine within. The slave waited patiently, her beautiful blue eyes fixed submissively upon the room's plush carpet. Lucilla stopped, and took a long sip, staring over the slave girl's shoulder.
"I suppose she will have to do," she said at last, and the girl blushed. On the couch beside Lucilla, her co-conspirator nodded with glee.
"At last," said Lucius Verus. He stood up from the low couch and smoothed out his silks. "I feared you would never find one to your liking."
"Hmph," Lucilla replied. "And I feared you would never find one that was not to yours."
"I still haven't," Verus's eyes wandered from the slave girl to his host, and Lucilla's eyebrows arched in contemptuous curiosity. His lusts were notorious far and wide, but Lucilla was twice his age and, even with the preserving effects of the spice she consumed daily, her body was that of a woman of sixty. For her fellow patrician to be ogling her when in the presence of a divinely beautiful, naked slave girl spoke volumes of him.
"Keep your eyes to yourself if you wish to keep them," she commanded acidly. She sipped imperiously from her wine goblet and Verus bowed low in mocking deference. The attention was flattering, she could not stop from admitting to herself. But she had other matters on her mind. "The plan," she declared, as much to Verus as to herself.
"Yes," he agreed somewhat reluctantly. "And my debt?"
"Will be forgiven," she waved her hand dismissively. "If you uphold your end of the bargain. Which means you must avoid becoming besotted, except where it befits the plan."
"Of course," Verus agreed again with a bow, more sincere this time. "And your man is in place?"
"He is," Lucilla said confidently, though in truth she had heard nothing from her thief since he had left the villa the prior night. The thought did not please her, for she had spent as many favors as denarii to free him from the dungeon where he awaited transport to the secret prison of the Arcani from which no one ever returned. If the common rogue simply took off in the night...
No, she decided. This would work. The auguries had been good, and her plan would succeed.
"Are you prepared?" she asked Verus, and he nodded. "Good, I'll have the carriage brought round. Remember, bring the stone to me by morning, and the debt is forgiven."
"And the girl?" Verus asked. Beneath his silken robe, Lucilla could see his cock was already hard.
"Keep her," Lucilla decided. "Bring me the stone, and she is yours."
He smiled broadly.
Smile all you like, fool,
thought Lucilla.
The stone is worth a hundred sluts like this one, and once I have it, the empire will be mine
.
---
Wheels clattered on the cobblestone as the carriage entered the wide courtyard before the south wing of the Imperial Palace. The grandest of three imperial residences around the city, the Imperial Palace was a massive, rambling structure that covered fifteen acres with its roof and more than two hundred with its gardens. The halls teemed with every lavish opulence that could be extracted from the emperor's domains and beyond; silks and porcelain from Leiyan, Savonian amber, cotton from Laraebos, marble hewn from the cliffs of Pelargirasβthe emperor's palace was the most magnificent structure anywhere in the world.
The wide courtyard was packed with carriages already, their wooden frames lacquered and their seats upholstered in richly dyed velvet. Coachmen waited beside their charges, dicing against one another as their employers reveled inside.
It was the event of the social season, a grand orgy with more than a thousand guests, pleasure slaves brought from all over the empire, the best musicians and dancers that money could buy, and food that was to die for.