Jake sat silent for a moment, trying to get his head around what he just heard. “So let me get this straight. You are over two millennia old. And lost your eye in a fight with your brother… over a slave?” Marius shrugged “Well, that’s the basic of it. More or less.” Shaking his head Jake tried to figure out if his host was lying or just plainly insane. “And I thought I was the only one who bumped his head.” He shifted his weight to the left and felt a pain shoot through his side. “It appears you might have broken a rib as well, want me to take a look?” Jake took a few shallow breaths, pushing the pain away before he nodded. “Well if you want me, you should apologies first.” Marius sat with his arms crossed next to the bed, a slight grin on his lips. “You want me to… what?” Jake’s words where followed by a grunt. “I. Want you. To say you’re sorry for doubting my story.” The young man pulled a face as if he felt insulted. “Dude, for real. I’m in serious pain over here!” Marius shortly chuckled “And I can maybe ease it. I also can just go out and get a quick bite to eat.” Catching his last words he let out a short chuckle again “Your choice.” Jake felt another flash of pain shooting through is side, this time without him putting weight on it. “Sure, whatever you want! Just as long you can make this go away.” Marius still sat with his arms crossed, not moving a muscle. “So?” Jake gave a deep sigh “I’m sorry for doubting you.” A smile made it’s over Marius’s lips “That wasn’t so hard to do, was it?” He moved over to Jake and pulled his shirt up, exposing a big bruise. Jake felt the cold fingers explore the spot, softly increasing pressure here and there. Although the pain caused by the examination, he felt a strange enjoyment out of it. Having Marius up close touching his skin, a sigh escaped him before he could suppress it. “Between pain and pleasure is a thin line, I know.” Marius’s lips where curled in an enthralling smile.

“MARIUS!! Where are you?” The lady stood waiting in the middle of the room, the back of her elaborate dress still unbuttoned. Chandeliers lightened parts of the dark room, casting distorted shades on floor and walls. “MARIUS!! God damned cyclops, we don’t have all night.” Her face and neck where powdered with chalk, a charcoal fake mole decorating her right cheek. “MARIUS!!!” Her voice echoed throughout the mansion, shortly blocking out the violin music from the ballroom. From down the hall quick steps got louder as they sped close. “Sorry my lady, His Grace had me do some last preparations.” A stern look betrayed the annoyed mood Lady Verona was in “If you are making up excuses, leave my husband out of it…” With a short angry snort she unfolded her fan “… be grateful we haven’t thrown your sorry behind out yet. Telling lies about your superiors. Wouldn’t surprise me if you stole from us as well.” Fiercely fanning her face she turned around “Well??? What are you waiting for? This dress isn’t buttoning itself” Marius hastily stepped closer and started to push and pull the fabric around lumps of flesh and skin. With every inch he buttend up her bosom seemed to be increase, restraining any excess in the right spot. After a few moments Marius stepped back, looking at his Mistress. “Well? How do I look?” Her mood had turned like a leaf on a tree. “You look radiant like always.” Lady Verona gave a slight smile at the youth “At least these little lies a lady can’t mind” Elegantly she made her way out of the room “Let’s not keep my husband waiting, shall we?”

The big door opened as music and the chatter of people poured out. Marius quickly stepped aside, letting his mistress and her husband pass. The post tapped his staff a few times then loudly announced their presence “HIS HIGHNESS, PRINCE DORIAN OF VERONA, ACCOMPANYED BY HIS WIVE, LADY ELISABETH VERONA” All chatter silenced as the string quartet replaced their light music with the royal anthem. Holding hands in an elegant way, lord and lady Verona descended onto the polished floor, nodding politely at their bowing guests. Glimpsing quickly inside Marius saw a few new faces, but most he recognized from earlier parties. All were dressed in a Victorian style, but him being the only one actually having lived thought the era shake his head at the farce displayed. He silently closed the door, and then made haste to the kitchen. A kitchen boy was struggling finding room for a goose in the overflowing oven, was stirring in a large pot. “DON’T YOU DARE RUINING PHEASENT?” A giant of a man came out of the corner close to Marius, pointing a dripping ladle at the boy manhandling the bird. “But sir, it’s a goose…“ the boy tenderly spoke his words “… I chopped of its head this morning. And there is no room for…” The cook slapped him sternly with the ladle, leaving a red splurge behind. “If I say its pheasant, it’s a bloody Pheasant. God knows that bunch of asses out there can’t tell them apart.” Turning his gaze at the oven, he had to bend at the waist to have a good view. With a bare hand he pushed some of the pastries aside, then in one motion grasping the limp bird from the lad’s hold and cramming it in. “See? Room to spare, now get your but over there and start chopping those vegetables.” With a loud sigh Bertrand sat down on a chair “I’m getting to old for this crap” he picked up a bottle of wine from the counter and took a big swig. “… each season we lose more and more of our staff. Ran away my ass, we all know what happens…” He eyed Marius for a moment, then offered him the bottle “And now I’m stuck with these two daft boys, almost so incompetent I’m afraid they will chop off their own hands.” Marius petted the man on his shoulder, while taking the bottle and putting it back on the counter. “It’s too early for wine, also I don’t think his Grace likes you drinking his fine stock” Bertrand spit on the ground “Fine stock? This goat’s piss barely counts as wine.” With a grunt the giant came on his feet, eying both lads who silently did their chores. Another grunt was given as Bertrand walked over to the stove “God be damned if his Graze thinks I’m going to wait till my number is up.” With those words he started frying little morsels of meat in a thick greasy paste.

Lady Verona looked upon the scene in front of her. Across the ballroom people where in groups varying from two to five, crawling over one and other. To her left she saw a woman kneading her breasts, as a man was pounding his flesh between her spread legs. At her right she could see an older woman with a young man’s face buried under her dress. Another was standing at her shoulder, feeding her his pole. Lady Verona’s attention was caught by a deep moan next to her. Lord Verona sat on his throne; a young girl was straddled on his lap. A mix of both his and her breathing was heard, while he kept thrusting himself into her tight spot. “Are you enjoying yourself husband?” The hormone filled tone in her voice went not unnoticed. The girl extended her hand to caress lady Verona’s bare breast, touching the warm skin with her soft fingers. A soft sigh escaped her mouth as the girl pinched her hard nipple. Her hand found her own moist crotch, slightly brushing the hot lips feeling her way up to the big knob hidden on top. The girl eagerly bend over, placing her lips on the woman’s chest. The force with Lord Verona kept pounding, roughly trusted her face deeper into the bosoms. Muffled sounds of pleasure rose up from between the soft hills, increasing her lust for the next release. Without warning Lord Verona gave a few heavy grunts, he felt the cream shooting from his bulbous deep in to the girl. Thick fluids slowly made their way out of her opening, dripping down the pulsating shaft in her. Regaining the rhythm of his breath, he looked over to his wife. The girl still was sucking on her breasts, giving a soft bite on the nipples every time she switched sides. Moans indicating she was close to orgasm where released from her mouth, as she kept sliding three fingers into her lovecave. With the thumb and indexfinger of her other hand she manipulated the little purple knob sticking out. Mild groans escaped her throat as a warm feeling flowed from her middle throughout her body. As she felt the girl releasing the suctioning grasp she had on her breasts she sighed deeply, trying to remember the count of how many orgasms she had.

Marius opened the doors leading from the ballroom into the dining hall. The tables filled with all sorts of foods, fruits and other delights, briefly reminded him of his youth. Bertrand made his last check of the dishes and servents behind them. Shaking his head, he pulled at the shirt of one of them. “Can’t even trusted to bloody dress themselves.” Then he slowly walked to his place behind the buffet besides Marius. With a sigh he looked at the post, giving the signal and an announcement was made “DINNER IS SERVED!” Within a few moments both Lord and Lady Verona appeared in the door, both in a lesser state of clothing then they came in. “Discussing fobs” The words were muttered just under Bertrand’s breath, but Marius caught them over the sounds coming out of the ballroom. As they came closer, one of the servants noticed the lord exposing bits which are left best at the imagination. He gave polite cough and motioned with his eye downwards. Lord Verona followed the direction and gave a chuckle “Oww dear me. Sweetheart could you help me for a moment.” His wife answered with a brown raised in question “Well a prince can be seen exposed at dinner, as he will not be seen grasping himself.” Annoyed at the situation Lady Verona quickly reached at her husband’s package, pushing it back past his fly. “Pleased now?” A wicket grin came on Lord Verona’s lips “Not as pleased as when you took it out.” Marius heard a disapproving sigh coming from Bertrand. Slowly more and more guests followed their hosts to the buffet, some in better dressed state then others. Bertrand gave stronger sighs and coughs as the people exposed more of themselves. Finally when a totally naked couple turned up, his posture failed him “I need to get some more pheasant from the kitchen” As he turned away from the table one of the boys motioned under the cloth covering it “But sir, there still is some goose right over…” Bertrand turned towards him with a warning look in his eyes. “I’m not interested in that pheasant, I’m going to get a fresh one.” Marius could hear him hiss under his breath as he passed “Bloody… incompetent… both of them… bloody fobs and their bloody orgies… discussing… all of you.”

Back in the kitchen Bertrand grabbed the bottle from the counter, sitting down in his chair next to it. The boys brought in the last of the ravished dishes and started to clean them in the large tub. Marius closed the door behind him as he entered the cook’s domain. “Well better get start with the next meal…” he looked at the old man who seemed to be lost in either the bottle in his hand or the thoughts in his head. “Bertrand?” The giant posture hardly registered being called. “You know Marius, I was telling the truth when I said I was too old for this crap.” His voice lacked the volume it usually had. “First when it were strangers, it was easy. But lately…“ A deep sigh expelled the scent of alcohol from his mouth. “I’ve seen to many people disappear… after a while I just didn’t even tried to care anymore.” He shook his head “I just… I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to see those boys end up as runaways as well” He looked at Marius, gave another sigh and with a load groan he returned to his feet. “Something is happening here and although we pretend otherwise we all know what it is!” Bertrand’s voice started to regain its normal strength. “I can’t do this anymore Marius, can you understand?” Pacing thought the room he shortly was lost in thoughts again. “I’ve been thinking, maybe we can rally the people from the nearby town. I know they are nobles, but they just can’t kill people like that.” The two boys by now had stopped, their terror filled eyes followed as the giant made his way circling the counter a third time. “My friend, if you need to do this, I cannot stop you. But I will not join you either.” Bertrand stopped in his tracks as he heard the words. “Marius, don’t tell me you side with those… monsters.” Marius wiped a few red strands of hair back behind his ear. “I’m not on their sides, it is just…” Bertrand made a few quick steps past the counter, grabbing a knife from its surface. “There IS no just, you are with them or against.” He could feel the sharp metal making its way past skin, in to the flesh under it. Blood started to slowly drip over his hand, soon flowing in large quantities onto the floor. Marius made a few staggering steps away from his attacker, looking to the wound in his abdomen. When he raised his gaze up, he just saw Bertrand making his way outside with the two boys. Being greeted by the first rays of sunlight poring over the horizon.

“I have a little surprise for you my love” Lady Verona caressed her husband’s face tenderly. “Remember the young girl we saw last time we passed through the countryside?” Lord Verona raised an eyebrow in a questioning way. “Oww don’t play the fool with me, I noticed you fancying her.” His wife continued. “Well I’ve made some arrangements and brought her here for you.” With those words she signaled the servant closest to her. After a few moments two men wearing masks brought in a young woman. Wearing her black hair elegantly lose on her back, flowers decorated in a crown on her head. She was dressed in a long white gown, giving her a slightly angelic visage. The only thing betraying her fear was her eyes, darting quickly around trying to take in the surroundings. The men lead her up to the Lord and Lady, forcing her on her knees. “She is pretty isn’t she.” Lord Verona’s eyes drank in her image lustfully. “… we will be having some fun with her.” A soft fearful sob was heard coming from the girl. “Bring my husband’s tools.” A large flat chest and sofa where brought and placed in the middle of the ballroom. The guests of which most were still indulging themselves in carnal lusts, started to revel at the coming spectacle. With some force the girl was lead to the sofa and told to sit down, skittishly she complied. Lord Verona slowly walked towards her, arms raised at the air in an elegant way. “My honored guests, my friends…” His voice echoed over the sounds of pleasure “… see this tender flower, untouched till this very moment. Feel her trembling, her emotions wanting to be freed.” His feeling for dramatic theater showed in the fact he gained the attention of all. “Who has a suggestion how to free this flower of all she has pent-up inside her?” He grasped her face with gentle fingers, bringing it closer to his. Deeply inhaling her odor though his nose, then releasing it in a deep sigh. He turned his head to let his eyes wonder around. Some of the spectators started to shout their ideas, others made suggestive movements with hands, arms or hips. Lord Verona again turned his attention towards the terrified girl on the sofa. “It seems they have not yet made up their mind just yet…” the stern look in his eyes and grinning smile on his lips gave him a sinister appearance “… I on the other hand, know exactly how.” With a rough motion he pushed the girl from his grip, back into the sofa. “Bind her!” The masked men quickly grasped her wrists and tied them to the sofa’s legs. A couple of spectators started to laugh enthusiastically, knowing what to expect next. Their host quickly made his way to the chest, retrieving a tail flogger and displaying it to the crowd. “How about I use this?” Shouts were made, some in agreement, most not. “You are right my dear friends, maybe later.” Giving his first find to one of the masked men, he dove back in the chest. The second item he displayed was a wooden paddle, to which the crowd gave an overwhelming agreeing sheer. “I’m here to please only you.” He elegantly waved the paddle a few time over his head, then walked back to the sofa. He kneeled near where the girl’s head was, whispering softly in her ear. “Don’t be afraid my child, I assure you, you will enjoy this.” He then got up, gently raising the dress over her back, exposing bare cheeks. A slap could be heard as the wood made contact with flesh, followed by a high pitched scream. The lord softly caressed the red glow forming where just the hard wood had been. Gently kissing the spot, he whispered kind words over the trembling back. He repeated the process a few times, making sure the girl recovered in between. With each slap and scream echoing through the ballroom, the crowd started cheering venting their enthusiasm and lust for the spectacle. After the 13th slap lord Verona placed the paddle against the sofa, walking to the headend. He saw tears rolling down the girl’s face, her lips trembling slightly. Coming close in he again started to whisper “Relax my darling child, enjoy the pleasure and let lose your emotions.” He grasped her black hair and roughly pulled it back. A scream of agony started to come from the girl’s mouth, but was quickly muffled by lord Verona’s invading tongue. First fighting, then after her resistance seemed to be broken, he wrestling over supremacy in the bodily cavern. She answered his passionate kiss, losing herself in the spout of emotions bubbling from deep inside her. “Yes… free yourself… feel your lust… let it embrace you.” The lord returned back to the paddle, wielding it as before. Yet where first the slap would be followed by a scream of pain, it now would be one of pleasure. Again and again he made contact, in ecstasy by the sounds his playmate produced.

When his muscles started to feel fatigue, he dropped the paddle in a dramatic sense. The sudden clatter of wood connecting with the floor startled many guests. He motioned for a chair while exclaiming to the onlookers “The flower seems to be on fire, bring us some wine to cool the heat.” An elderly man made quick steps, hoping to be first with his goblet filled with spirits. Stumbling over his own feet he spilled the liquid over the floor, forming a red pool reflecting his disappointed face. “There is no need to hurry my friend, all will have their turn.” A loud laughter rose from the crowd, as the man embarrassedly looked around. A younger man placed his glass at the white flower’s lips, gently tipping it’s contains over the brim. As a reward for his generosity he now could chose the next manor in which the girl would be treated. His eyes eagerly slide over many whips, rods and flails in the chest. After some thought he reached for a long horse whip and quickly waved it a few times in front of him. A soft swishing sound could be heard as it made its way through the air. Then he turned to his host, displaying his choice in hopes to get an approval. The lord slightly nodded in a modest way, but his eyes showed a thrill of enjoyment. Taking his place at the girl’s rear, the young man placed the whip gently on the left cheek. With a swishing motion he retrieved the leather rod and a second swish he had it return. An expression of sharp pain could be seen on the girl’s face, but a lustful moan left her throat. His excitement started to stir between his legs as he repeated this act, paying attention to both left and right cheek. Just as he started to develop a sweat, the strong grip of Lord Verona stopped him. “Now, now, we don’t want to have the flower… just yet.” With a short bow, the young man offered the whip back to his owner and with a polite “your Grace” he returned to his chair in the crowd. A nearby onlooker immediately fell on his knees and started to suck off the young man’s flesh.

Many guests had their way with the young girl, who by now laid in her torn dress heavily panting partly on the ground, partly on the sofa. The old man who just filled her throat with his creamy seamen, wiped his pride and joy on her forehead and cheek. Whip marks could be seen from upper legs to her lower back, surrounded by al shades of red glow. Cooled candle wax mixed with all sorts of fluids stained her breasts and neck. On her wrists where signs they had been retied several times. From his throne Lord Verona looked upon the scene, crotch being fondled by his wife. “My love, I’m bored of seeing the rabble having their way with my gift to you. You barely played with it, why not enjoy it some more.” A slight smile crept over his face, pondering his wife’s suggestion. Raising a goblet with wine to his and emptied it in big gulps. “You are right, it’s much more fun if oneself is playing.” With those words he slowly returned on his feet, swaying in a half drunk elegant way. A woman pushed the white flower’s face onto her slit with a smothering force. The strong grasp of Lord Verona’s hand was felt on her shoulder, giving a slight pull. Enraged she opened her eyes turning to the person who dared to interrupt her moment, only to bow humbly before her host. “It’s time to pluck this flower, adding her to my collection.” he eyed the girl at his feet, feeling an overwhelming sense of dominance. He kneeled next to her, untied the wrists and placed her back on the sofa. His prick made contact to her bare skin, sensing the heat radiated from inside. Where he earlier roughly forced his kiss on the girl’s lips, the lord now gently pressed his kiss upon her. “Ready to be totally freed of your suppressed feelings?” A soft moan was all she could respond with, but was all the man needed. With one strong motion he turned the flower on her stomach, another to raise her rear into the air. His hand again in his softest touch, stroke over the marks left by his guests. The fingers felt pleasant as they gave a cooling sensation her heated skin. A second hand was placed on her other cheek, both starting to softly massage the meaty flesh under their grasp. With every outward motion separating the halves, Lord Verona could see a long crevasse. As his thumb caressed from the puckering hole to her dripping slit, she gave a deep moan. A smile formed on his lips, as he roughly pulled the cheeks apart as far as he could. With one motion he forced himself into her lustful body, another moan escaped from her lips. He stretched her to widths she never could imagine, filling her to the limit. Not giving her time to adjust to the new sensation, the lord withdrew entirely only to force his way back in. After a few times her moans where less of agony and more off enjoyment. Sensing the ease he could enter with, he increased the rhythm. Powerful trusts made the wooden sofa under them squeak. More sounds of pleasure could be heard as some of the crowd, inspired by the spectacle, again gave in to their lust. “Such beautiful music me make, no soul can resist to dance to it.” A suppressed groan escaped her lips as an answer, having lost anything resembling a voice in her ecstasy. His pounding increased in both force and speed, sounds of skin slapping skin and moans with similar noises from the crowd. Feeling a familiar sensation coming from deep within, Lord Verona started to breathe heavily speeding onto a next orgasm.

Just as he was about to release his tension deep into the girl, the large door swung open. A nobleman was hit square in the chest by a musket’s bullet, followed by the screams of those who stood closest to him. Bertrand rushed into the big hall, followed by a mob formed out of the people from the nearby village. A hatchet flashed thought the air and hit a woman in the neck, cleaving head from body. A terror flooded the room as more bodies spilled their blood onto the wooden floor. Most being too drunk to resist, just screamed in fear, trying to make their way to a door. Lady Verona could see how a half-naked man tripped and then was trampled by fellow guests trying to flee. The small doors leading out formed a bottleneck for the crowd, giving their pursuers the opportunity to reach them. Just before she made her way through the door, Lady Verona looked back to see her husband being hit in the neck by a musket’s charge. Blood spilled from the wound as he sank on his knees, one hand pressing on the gap, the other raised in fain for help. Pushed by the people behind her, she ran into the corridors, away from the bloodied scene. Only a few steps till she reached the door leading out and to a possible escape into the fields, then an arm got hold of her. When she turned to look at her attacker, she saw the pastor holding her tight with one hand. In the other he held a large wooden cross, decorated with an image of the savior who died for all sins. “You’re not going anywhere bitch!” Behind her Lady Verona could hear the massacre reaching its final conclusion. As she watched to where the sounds came from she could see Bertrand turning the corner, carrying the head of her husband with him. The look of anger and fear still displayed on his face, betrayed how he lived his final moments. “The ones who fled will soon be caught and share his fate my lady” Bertrand threw the head at her feet. “You on the other hand will be burned at the stake.” Pushing past both Elizabeth and the holy man holding her, the old giant opened the door letting the sun’s rays flood in. The warm glow made contact with her eyes, blinding them for a moment. As she adapted to the bright flow, she could see the pyre being built in the courtyard.

Totally spend the white flower laid on a bed made of straw covered with blankets. Her once smooth skin was now dotted with bruises and wells. Marius pressed a wet cloth on her chest, carefully trying to clean the sticky mixture. A soft sigh of relieve gurgled in her throat as the cool fabric made contact. All signs shown they had pushed her to every limit they could find, breaking it as they encountered one. A tear rolled down her cheek, muffled sobs could be heard. “It’s all over now, you are save here.” His soothing voice echoed from the bare basement walls. Sensing his genuine compassion, the girl let go of her grieve. The sobs became screams, the single tear a river. Though her broken body ached with every release, she could not stop. All Marius could do was to hold her, lending his strength as support. A long time they sat like that, till well after the silence had returned. As many times before he tried to tend to all who fell victim to his lord and lady’s lust. Some had been members of the staff, others just random strangers, but all where young and beautiful of visage. After every party he had taken them to the same cabin, making the arrangements for their leave abroad. A small pouch filled with gold lay beside him, the usual compensation he gave every time.

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