1. Legion


    Date: 9/15/2015, Categories: Historical, Author: Lupus, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    the two men turned in anger, a war cry building in their throats. Their trained hands snapped to their sheathed swords, tearing the weapons from their scabbards as they leapt to their feet. The Legate stared them down, defiantly facing his soldiers with his plumed helmet held high. The Legionaries stopped dead in their tracks, amazed, as the Legate’s tribunes formed up around him, presenting a wall of sharpened steel. “Go now, before I change my mind.” Vespasian’s tone was quiet, but carried the menace no legionary would dare to question. The men retreated at once, scattering into the fort’s twisted streets. Vespasian hauled the girl – shaking and delirious – onto his shoulder and tossed her over the saddle of a nearby tribune with ease. She did not resist, now sobbing quietly into the leather piece. The assembled group shared questioning looks. All eyes avoided the unmistakable flash of her bare thighs in the fire light. “I want her alive,” Vespasian growled, mounting his own horse again. “Take her to my quarters. She might have useful information.” The Legate turned to stare down his confused tribune with a look that made the man sink into his saddle. “Now! Go!” Eyes wide and shocked, the tribune turned and tore out of the once proud gateway, leaving the Legion’s officers to mill about in a strangely quiet moment of shared confusion. *** The girl sobbed almost endlessly, eyes streaming into the dark leather saddle. Her eyes never lifted when the horse cantered into a camp ...
    and she heard the loud, lewd calls and whistles of the soldiers they passed. She had no idea where they were and she didn’t want to know. She looked up at the rider’s face only once as he steadied her across the mare’s back. The man looked straight ahead and refused to see the tear-strewn eyes pleading with him. The evening was quickly darkening now that she was away from the flames. Here, her ripped and shredded clothes provided no warmth against the cool evening air. Halting among an encampment of tents, the rider dismounted. It was with flaming cheeks and bloodshot eyes that she was finally lifted from the saddle. Her torn shirt rode up around her waist for a few humiliating seconds – something no nearby Legionary failed to cheer about. She hugged her rags tight, seeking any comfort, and desperately tried to hide the arrow sharp tips of her cold, stiffened nipples. The girl was marched into the nearby tent, pushed inside by her rider. Ducking under the door, she stood up straight in a tent bigger than the home she’d had back in the fort. Her eyes shone and blinked back tears, her lip quivering, and bitten, as she relived the horrific night. When she closed her eyes, the flames still danced behind her eyelids; the silence still bore the echoing screams of loved ones and friends. The tent flap whipped shut behind her. Her cold, pale skin prickled and she ran for the corner of the tent. The soldier was gone and the thick canvas walls seemed to isolate her from the din of the ...