The serene silence of the night was broken by a terrifying roar. For the awakened Mark Tertius Flavius, he sounded especially frightening and seemed to come from the underworld itself.

The maid Lidis ran into the bedroom. She was pale, her eyes bulging, her lips and hands were shaking.

- Sir, soldiers!

Mark Flavius ​​instantly jumped off the bed and began to dress. A lump stuck in my throat, a spasm of chilling fear pierced my back and gave way to a viscous, aching pain in my stomach. His wife, Emilia Coriolana, also woke up. With wide, frightened eyes, she looked at her husband.

- Mark ... What happened?

- Soldiers! Stay here! I'll deal! - He threw, running out of the room.

The front door shook from the hail of blows. From time to time, because of her, it came viciously and aggressively.

- In the name of the emperor! In the name of Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus - open! (one)

A few frightened slaves, including the gatekeeper, hesitated about the door in indecision. The appearance of the host, inspired them with some confidence. Trying to keep himself in hand and keep calm on his face and in his movements, Mark Flavius ​​ordered:

- Open.

The gatekeeper and another of the household slaves rushed to perform. Two massive, bound with gold-plated bronze sash doors began to disperse. As soon as the place was cleared, so that one person could pass into the vestibules (2), without ceremony, a hefty, armored centurion stepped. Behind him were crowded several soldiers of the praetorian imperial guard. In the light of the torches, their lamellar armor gleamed, the magnificent sultans of colorful feathers on their helmets moved the wind penetrating from the street.

Glancing unkindly at the host, the centurion grinned crookedly and said:

- Rider Mark Tertius Flavius? (3)

“Yes, it's me,” came the answer.

- You do not care. I need your wife.

- What?

- Your wife! Where is she?

- Why do you need ...

The centurion shoved Mark Flavius ​​and entered the atrium (4), as if he were the master here. The Praetorians followed him, pushing the slaves away from the door.

- So, once again I ask: where is your wife? Or should we search the house?

“There is no need for that, centurion,” came a soft but dignified voice, and a young girl no more than twenty years old entered the atrium.

- I am Emilia Coriolana Vicinia - the wife of rider Mark Flavius, daughter of Senator Publius Varia Vicinia.

At the sight of the housewife, even the rude, uncouth centurion was stunned for a minute. No wonder Rome went rumor about the beauty of this matron. She was slim and elegant, and all the virtues of her figures were emphasized by a tunic made of translucent fabric, with beautiful embroidery along the hem and without sleeves, in which the young woman was now dressed. The nightly coolness that penetrated through the open door made Emilia slightly cringe, and right there the maid Lidis ran up to the lady with a cannon (5) in her hands. The hostess stopped her with a slight movement of her hand and, looking intently at the centurion staring at her, asked:

“So what does the valiant warrior want from me at this late hour?”

The Praetorian frowned, and again letting himself in his fear, said:

- By order of the divine Guy Caesar Augustus Germanic, all young wives, sisters of horsemen and senators, as well as their mature daughters are obliged to contribute to the prosperity of the state. To replenish the treasury of the Empire and the Emperor's personal tax (6), you are ordered to deliver Emilia Coriolanus to the "Sword of Poseidon." There throughout the year you will work for the good of the state, fulfilling your civic duty!

- Sword of Poseidon ?! Cried the startled Mark Flavius. - This is the ship people called the Ship of Passion! This is a lupanar (7) on the water! What kind of work can women from noble families do there ?!

- The same as the rest of the whores of slaves and mob who are there, are already working, - grinned the centurion.

- Well, how ... How is this possible?

“The emperor’s order,” the centurion shrugged and turning to the pale matron, said: “Come on, honorable Emilia.”

- Not! It's impossible! - Mark Flavius ​​shouted. - It's some kind of mistake!

“There is no mistake,” the praetorian grunted. - I have clear instructions.

- But this is outrageous! But what about the laws ?!

- Stand aside Mark Flavy and do not bother me to carry out the order! The centurion snapped, clutching at the hilt of the sword.

- We are married, only two weeks! How so ... Not possible.

Tears streamed down the rider's face.

- From the road! - Centurion pushed the owner of the house. “If you don't want your wife not to become a widow right now, get away!”

“No, Mark,” said Emilia softly, stepping toward her husband. She put her hand on his shoulder. - Everything will be fine. My father will help us. Go to him right now. Don't worry about me.

- But Emilia ... How so? This is a bad dream ... Or what? I can't believe it all.

- Take care of yourself, - Emilia gently, but with a taste of bitterness and longing, she kissed her husband and turned to the centurion and said: - I am ready.

The slave woman helped her to clothe. And accompanied by a convoy, Emilia Coriolana left the house.

* * *

A huge three-deck vessel, bearing the name "Sword of Poseidon", but nicknamed by the people as a ship of passion, anchored in the port of Ostia (8). Two of his fellow sailed on Lake Nemi (9) and were intended for personal entertainment purposes of Emperor Caligula and his retinue. Well, this ship was available for ordinary people.

The interiors of this monstrous giant were divided by lattices into many quarters. Hundreds of beautiful young women and very young girls were brought here from all over Rome by order of Emperor Caligula. The supreme ruler of the empire was in dire need of money, and he was just as inventive in their mining as he was in the ability to quickly squander money without regard to any costs. The fourth year came to an end, as Caligula donned imperial purple. Rome was moaning, sobbing and bleeding. “Passion ships”, where young representatives of aristocratic families were forcibly taken away, were the last straw that overwhelmed the patience of the Roman nobility. The mob was pleased. Sailors, legionaries, porters, petty traders, as well as any rabble without a certain occupation, threw a shaft onto the ship. Well, in fact, when else for a couple of coins will it be possible to fuck the rider's daughter or to plant the senator's wife?

Crowds of men filled with joy and lust formed long queues at the pier. The guards shouted and tried to maintain order with all their might. But from time to time, fights broke out here and there when husbands, fathers or brothers tried to get their relatives out of the ship.

* * *

Leno (10) ordered Emilia to undress and loosen her hair.

“Good,” he snapped his tongue, he said, shamelessly looking at the young matron.

A lustful grin appeared on the unshaven, filthy pussy of the pimp when he began to touch Emilia's tight, high breasts, her strong broad hips, and the elastic hemispheres of her buttocks in the most arrogant manner. With undisguised pleasure, he admired the long, slim legs of a young woman, and looking at her pretty face, he even imagined what pleasure the visitors would get when they poured sperm on these tender cheeks on those plump lips, like a child. So I imagined that I almost finished it myself. It took him some time and considerable effort to calm down and get a grip on himself.

“But this must be removed,” declared Leno in a couple of minutes and began to tingle the dark pubic hair of Emilia. Then, his fingers touched the genital lips new. Tight, warm rollers were tightly compressed. The follower grunted and began to shove two fingers between them at once. Emilia frowned: she was not only not pleased, but also terribly ashamed to stand here in front of this bare cattle, and he felt her, like a slave offered for sale. And yet, so it was. Maybe she is not a slave, but will sell it to many. More precisely to pass in the use of time. Oh gods, what a humiliation for the senator's daughter! ...