Introduction:
Author’s NotesScene two is slightly violent / degrading.
_____________________________
CHAPTER THREE:
Scene 01: Lykos – Sex? Yes.
Scene 02: Atticus – Sex? Yes.
Scene 03: Cassius – Sex? No.
_____________________________LYKOS
Lykos opened his eyes and glanced over at his son.
“What was I saying?” He fisted his hand in Callia’s hair as she stroked his cock. It was soaking wet from her mouth, but she’d taken a detour. He heard her hungry moans as she sucked on his balls, pulling them into her mouth. He watched her little hips rock for a moment, fucking the air as she slapped his cock against her own lips.
Cassius sat across from him, his head tilted as he stared at his sister’s cunt.
“What?” Cassius glanced up at him. “Oh, something about thirty new whores showing up on your doorstep.”Right. Lykos groaned as he felt Callia begin to guide him down her throat. He patted her head. She’d been such a good whore today. The emperor had been extremely pleased with the show she put on. He’d always been pleased with her. Callia had fucked six of his guards in front of him. Then bathed, and served the emperor for hours.
And here the little whore was, on her eighth cock of the day. Her own father’s. And she was hadn’t slowed a bit. She was sucking him greedily, lust filled little moans as she placed sloppy little kisses on his shaft.
“Right. This whore situation is a problem,” he informed his son.
Cassius’s eyes never left Callia. Lykos didn’t blame him. Callia in action was a sight worth seeing. Gods, she had worked those fucking cocks today. He was almost proud of her.
“Failing to see how more whores is a problem, Father.”
Lykos pushed his daughters head down on his cock, filling his throat until her mouth was nestled snuggly at the base of his cock, and then he fucked it. Short little strokes deeper into her mouth until he knew she needed to breath. She pulled back choking, but her mouth was back on his cock in an instant.
“The whores aren’t here just for work. They want to work here for sanctuary. Another half dozen whores, and two noble girls have been found dead. That the whores are showing up here makes it look like we had something to do with it, like we’re behind the killings because we have something to gain by it.”
Cassius rubbed at the dark circles under his eyes.
“I need you to find this killer, my son. I need him broken and confessing. And then I need him killed. Publicly. Violently.”
His son’s eyes narrowed. “I prefer killing in the dark.”
He felt his daughter’s mouth tense around his cock.
“Don’t frighten Callia while she’s got a cock in her mouth,” he chided. “I’d hate to have to whip her for using teeth. She was such a good girl today.”
Cassius stilled, and then he stood up abruptly. “I’ll leave immediately. I may not be back until Sun’s Day. The whore is mine when I return.”
He leaned forward and slapped his little girl’s ass, spread her cheeks wide open to trail a finger up her soaking wet slit.
“I’m sure I’ll be done with her by then.”
Cassius left, the door slamming behind him. He gently pushed Callia’s head off his cock. “Lean back, show Daddy what they did to your pussy, Baby.”
His little girl grinned up at him, and leaned back against the floor. She spread her legs wide open for him, tilting her pelvis up to give him a good view. She spread her cunt wide open, her fingers pulling apart her tiny, pink inner lips.
“Touch it, baby. Show Daddy how you play with it.”
She moaned and leaned her head back against the ground as her fingers trailed up her wet little slit. She slapped at her clit and then worked slow circles around it. He slid down onto the floor next to her, and squeezed one of her little tits in his hand as his little girl rubbed her own pussy.
Her hips rocked off the ground as she fingered her clit, and her eyes met his. She stared into his eyes, her tongue sliding over her bottom lip.
He kissed her forehead. “You like when Daddy watches you touch it?”
She giggled and moaned up at him. “I like it better when Daddy fucks it.”
He laughed, stroking one of her nipples between his fingers.
“Do you want daddy to fuck your little cunt, Callia?”
Her hips rocked off the floor to meet the finger she’d just slid into her wet little cunt. “I always want my daddy to fuck my wet little cunt.”
Who was he to say no? After all, that little cunt – and her mouth, and her ass – had earned him an obscene amount of coin today.
He climbed between her legs and she spread them even wider. He pushed his cock against her entrance, and grabbed her hips. When he slid inside her, it was hard enough that her little tits bounced with the force of his stroke. He dug his fingers into her hips, stroking slowly now, pushing himself so deep inside his little girl’s willing, soaking body. She threw her head back, and pushed her hips against his. Her strokes were lazy, but her little hole was so wet, so fucking hot around his cock.
She bit her lip, smiled up at him. Gods, when she made that face, she looked just like her mother. He’d fucked Breena just like this, so many times. Her naked and wet, legs spread as she begged for his cock.
He leaned over Callia and kissed her mouth, tentatively, the way he’d kissed her mother. He’d never kissed their child before.. The thought had never crossed his mind. Callia froze at first, and then she pushed her mouth against his as his cock drove in and out of her cunt. He pounded her after that, fucking her rougher than he ever had before. His cock filled his child, the little girl that the only woman he’d ever loved had carried in her belly. He covered her mouth, squeezed her tits, fucked her until her cries consumed him. And then he fucked her harder. He felt his daughter’s cunt spasm around him. She was going to cum with his cock inside her.
He didn’t last long after that. She’d taken so many cocks, and he’d loved watching it. Every minute of his little whore preforming and he stared at her sweet little face as his balls emptied deep inside her cunt.
She laid on the ground, torn, spent unable to move, and he spread her legs wider to see the thick white cum inside her cunt. The same cum that that he’d pumped into her mother so many years ago.
She smiled up at him. “Thank you, Daddy.”
He kissed her head. “Go to bed, child.”
*ATTICUS
He’d managed to find the little whore before she’d been given breakfast.
He sat back on the edge of his bed, naked. Cock throbbing.
He’d made her sit and watch as he ate his own meal. He’d savored every bite, chewed slowly. Ensured that he fully described how delicious it was.
Callia had sat naked at his feet, hands bound behind her back. She tried so hard to look patient, but he could hear her stomach growling beneath him. When he finished, he didn’t move immediately. He just sat back, arms crossed over his chest. Atticus fucking hated his father’s bastard daughter; the whore he’d whelped on some Celtic slave. His brothers couldn’t see past their own cocks. They saw her as a pretty whore, a willing mouth, a wet cunt. He saw her as something disgusting. A piece of filth that didn’t deserve the air she was allowed to breathe.
He dumped what was left on his plate in a little bowl and sat it in front of her. He poured the smallest bit of water in a matching bowl and placed it beside the first. He checked the rope he’d tied around her hands. It was secure.
“Eat.”
She bit her lip as she looked down at the dishes he’d given her, and she looked back up at him.
“I.. I c-can’t. Now with my hands tied, Atticus.” She kept her eyes on the floor, as if that would somehow make up for her disobedience.
He slapped her, back handed her, with all of the force he could put behind it. He felt his knuckles against her mouth, and when he looked down at her he smiled as the small trickle of blood on her bottom lip.
He took her jaw in his fingers, digging hard into the skin and bone.
“You want to fuck like a dog, little sister? Stick your ass up in the air for every cock that passes by you?” He guided her face down to the bowls. “Then eat like a dog, Bitch.”
He could see her jaw tightening, the slow blush of red in her cheeks. Her eyes were shiny, bright with tears. His cock tensed. That’s it, cry for me, you little whore.
He stroked his cock slowly as he watched her bend forward to eat the scraps off his plate. At first she sniffled and whimpered, but then some fucking kind of resolve, some determination, crossed her eyes as she finished. She stuck her ass up in the air as she stuck her face in the bowl, and when she finished, she looked up at him. She looked pleased with herself. Defiant.
He slapped her again, this time with enough force to knock her off her knees and to the floor. She curled in on herself, the trickle on her lip bigger. More red. Her arms were tied behind her back, and she struggled to get up off the floor.
He grabbed her by the back of the neck, his other hand fisted in her hair, and guided her face to her water bowl. “Drink it, bitch.”
It was a struggle, but the little cunt obeyed. She tried her hardest to lap up water with her tongue, but it was difficult. Such is the problem with bitches in little girl bodies. His cock was hanging heavy between his legs, and he was growing impatient.
He pulled her back up on her knees. “Time for tea, little sister. Can’t have a whore like you breeding, now can we?”
He grabbed one of the two cups of whores-tea he’d grabbed from the kitchens and held her by the throat with the other hand.
“Face up to the sky. Open your mouth.”
Her body shook, but she obeyed.
He poured the tea sloppily into her open mouth. It ran down the sides of her cheeks as she choked on it. This was why he’d brought two cups. He knew the little cunt would spill. He didn’t expect his hound to have table manners, why would the little whore be any better?
He filled her mouth with the rest of the cup, and she managed to choke a little less this time. The tea still dripped down her cheeks, and her eyes watered with hot tears that he hoped were painful. He rubbed her jaw with his thumb.
“Looks like you need a bit more. Do try not to spill so much this time.”
He emptied half of the second cup into her open mouth, and she choked. Coughing, gasping for air, spat the foul tea all over his floor.
He backhanded her.
When she looked up at him, her eyes were bleak and tears were pouring down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Atticus.”
He laughed. “Not yet, you aren’t. But you will be.”
He shoved her forward, hand on the back of her neck. He pushed her face to the ground. She was on her knees, hands behind her back, dirty face on the ground, looking at him. She trembled, whimpered, but she kept her ass high up in the air, her legs spread wide for her own fucking brother. She was disgusting.
When he slid his hand between her legs, her cunt was wet.
“Tell me, bitch. Which of your brother’s cocks do you enjoy most?”
She looked back at him, her eyes wide. He could see her mind spinning.. In fear. That puzzled him. That question should have shamed her, not made her afraid.
He frowned. Titled his head. “It’s a simple question, Bitch. You spread your legs for every man in your family. Whose cock do you like best?”
“Father’s,” she finally admitted. But..
“You’re lying.” He grabbed her chin and twisted it up to meet his face and she cried out in pain. “Why are you lying to me? It’s a simple question. Hector’s? Gaius’s? Surely not Marcus’s.”
“I’m not lying.” Her voice shook. “I j-just.. I’m a whore, Atticus. And I like it best when Daddy fucks me. I like it best when my own father cums inside my cunt.”
He flipped her over on her back. She was still lying, but hearing the little bitch talk about how much she loved her father’s cock.. She made him sick.
He forced her legs open. She was so tiny. Such a filthy cunt to be so little. He laid his cock between her legs, on her stomach. He slapped it against her, his balls heavy as he measured it against her. If he just let his balls lay against her cunt, the tip of his cock was higher than her naval. He did like that. Having such a tiny little whore at his mercy. He slapped one of her little tits, and she cried out.
Her nipples were so hard, and no matter what he did to her her cunt would be wet and slick. For her brother, no less. She would enjoy his cock, probably cum around it.
He slapped her face again. Harder, ripping open the little barely-healed cut on her lip. And then he slapped her again. He hated that she made his cock so fucking hard, made it throb and ache to be inside her. She was worthless. She was disgusting, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself from using her. It was her fault. Not his.
He rolled her over, gripped her legs, forced her on her knees and her head back to the ground. “That’s it, ass up in the air like a bitch in heat. You want this cock, don’t you? Want to be fucked?”
She whimpered.
“Yes,” she whispered softly, her voice full of tears.
He would not fuck her cunt. That’s what she wanted, wanted his cock to slam inside her wet little hole.
He didn’t bother himself with getting her asshole wet. He wiped the tiny bit of her wetness that was on the tip of his cock on her leg and positioned himself right at the entrance to her ass.
He didn’t work it in. Didn’t try to make it easy on her.
He positioned the head of his cock, raised on his knees, and wrapped on arm around her waist while he forced his cock deep in her ass. Her body tightened, and he could feel the muscles clench as her scream echoed in his room.
Her body, subconsciously, tried to deny him entrance. She fought against him, but she’d taken too many cocks in her ass the day before. It was still tight. Still deliciously dry. But just loosened enough that she could do nothing to stop him. On his second attempt, he was inside her. His balls rested against her wet cunt and he felt her ass so fucking tight around him. She was screaming, but not in pleasure. Begging, but not for him to fuck her.
He pulled out, and forced himself back in. Again. Two hard thrusts as he took her hair in his hands and pulled her face around so he could see the hot tears on her cheeks.
“Why pretend like you don’t like it? I heard how many cocks you took in this little ass.” He pounded her, his words punctuated by heavy thrusts. “I heard about how many times you came with strange men’s cocks inside you, you worthless little cunt. Don’t pretend.”
He forced her knees closer together, making her even tighter around him. He wanted to fucking destroy her. When he pulled her face back to him by the hair. “Did you beg for their cum while our father watched?”
She didn’t meet his eyes, but she nodded. And when he felt her ass starting to move back against him, he hit her in the side of her head with his fist. Then he let go of her hair.
Her face slammed into the stone floor, and she writhed, trying to push the hurt side of her face into her shoulder. She was really crying now, and his cock pounded inside her, jerking, making his stomach tighten as he heard her weeping quietly.
“You think you’re special, don’t you Bitch? Because men can’t keep their hands off you.” He hissed. “I know Callia. You think you’re something because the fucking Emperor used to pump that sweet, tiny little cunt full of royal cum. He couldn’t keep his hands off you when you were a girl, and you think that makes you better than me. But that was a very long time ago, Bitch. You’re nothing. Nothing.”
He stroked her back. With his fingernails. Dug them into her flesh, watching red tracks spread behind where he touched. “What’s wrong, darling sister?”
She tried to arch away from him.
“You’re h-hurting me.” She whimpered, and it undid him. He pounded her, harder, faster, trying to fuck through her. He heard her crying beneath him, and he felt powerful. Alive. Strong. He pulled out. He gripped her ass in his hands, pulling it wide open to see the red, fucked raw little hole. The hole his cock had violated, stretched wide.
And then he stood up and kicked her. Used hit foot to roll her over onto her back.
“What’s wrong, Baby Sister? Didn’t get to cum?” He bent over and spat in her face. “Good.”
He gripped his cock, slapped it hard against her cheek. Then he stroked it, his eyes focused on the blood on her lip, the tears in her eyes, and his spit pooled just to the left of her nose.
Three strokes. That was all it took, and he shot his cum right onto her disgusting little face.
He sat down next to her, watching her sniffle and try to pull herself together.
He smiled to himself, a cruel, triumphant grin as he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “By the way, father’s waiting for you. And he’s so very, very angry with you Callia. And if I were a betting man, I’d bet I might not have to see that filthy little face around here for much longer. Today may very well be the day. What have you done this time?”
*CASSIUS
Cassius arrived home early, covered in blood. His sword needed cleaned. Desperately. His knuckles were busted open, swollen and inflamed. Every muscle in his body ached. Gods, was twenty-eight really that old?
He wanted Callia. Now, underneath him, wrapped around him. He was too tired to beat her. But he hadn’t been able to sleep the night before replaying her over and over in his mind, taking those cocks like a little champion.
Someday, she would be his, and he would be the one arranging for her to be fucked. And then he’d beat her, while she was still covered cum and fuck her senseless. Show her how it was really done.
He stripped off his blood-stained clothing as he turned down the hall that led to the underground slave pens and frowned.
The door to the Hole was open. He hadn’t seen it open in years. Two slaves were inside, mopping the floor under the flogging rack. Both were sobbing quietly as they cleaned, and when he entered, both jumped.
He gestured around. “Who was punished in here?”
Neither answered him, their sobs had become louder as they both backed away from him, away from the instruments of pain his father kept in that room. Lykos didn’t enjoy pain as a part of sex. But he was skilled in the art of punishment. His father took pride in that.
“Who was punished? I order you to fucking tell me.”
A slave whose name he didn’t know stared at the ground.
“C-Callia, Dominus. Your sister.”
He didn’t remember grabbing the girl. The next thing he knew, his fingers were digging into her arms and she was screaming in pain. Begging. He shook her, hard. The small bowl of water she was holding clattered to his feet.
“What did they do to her?”
Tears were pouring down the terrified slave’s face. He could see red spatter on the floor. The other girl had been cleaning a.. He shook the girl harder. His voice thundered.
“F-flogged. Dominus. About an hour past.”
A theives’ punishment. He felt every muscle in his body tense. He could barely see the girl he has holding through the sheet of red in front of his eyes. His heart, raging beats pounded in his ears.
“Why?” His voice was flat. Eerily calm, even to him.
“One of her men. A regular. He left and realized he was missing a r-ring. He said she must have taken it.”
He tried to breathe. To ease up on the girl’s arms.
“How many times?”
“Twenty-seven. O-one for every d-denarii he said the ring was worth.”
He let go of her arms. “Do you know where she is?”
“G-Galla took her to clean her wounds. The slaves’ baths, I t-think, Dominus.”
He was out the door before he realized he’d moved, heavy, running footfalls as he took the stairs down to the slave pens. The door to the baths was locked and he kicked it open, a satisfied smile as the lock splintered through the wood.
Galla rushed at him. The weathered old woman in charge of cleaning and feeding the whores had terror in her eyes but she lunged at him any way.
“You get out of here, Cassius.” The old woman seethed as she tried to march him to the door. She barely came up to his chest. “She’s hurt. You’ll just have to wait. I’m not letting her leave this room.”
He couldn’t respond to her. Couldn’t look at her. He barely noticed her as he stared at Callia’s poor, little bloodied back. She was passed out, sleeping or unconscious on the island of the bathtub. He staggered, and Galla slapped at his chest.
“For the love of Jupiter, she can’t take another beating.”
His little sister stirred, and her eyes opened wide with fear. And then she saw him. And the relief in her eyes hurt him somewhere deep in his chest.
She was on her feet in a second, staggering over to him. She shoved past Galla and then her arms were around his neck. He melted. He struggled to find a way to embrace her without touching her back, and settled for one hand on the back of her head, and another on the curve of her arm. He gripped her to him, and didn’t let go even when he head Galla’s surprised gasp.
Callia was crying into his chest, and Galla was staring at them, not bothering to hide her shock. Fuck. That was not good.
She pushed Callia away from him gently, but what he did next was nowhere near gentle.
He was holding the old woman against the wall, his sword to her throat.
“I don’t know what you think you just saw, old-”
“Cass.” Callia was pulling at his arm, her eyes wide as she stared up at him. “Don’t.”
She looked afraid.
The old woman, however, did not. She just stood very still, and met his eyes. She gave him as much of a nod as she could with his sword against her throat.
“They could kill me. I won’t say a word. I raised that girl, Cassius. My own daughter nursed her after her mother died. I love her, too.”
Too. Fuck. She knew. The cunning old woman had seen it. He knew he’d probably live to regret it, but he released her. He helped Callia back to the edge of the tub.
“I need someone to go to the market. How’s your memory, old woman?”
“Sharper than yours.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to remember what went in the salve he needed to make.
He was a killer, not a healer. He listed off the few ingredients he remembered, and Galla stopped him.
“You want to make the salve her mother used to put on your back.”
He frowned. “How do you know of this?”
She smiled, her eyes sad. “Breena was my friend, child. And you were always her favorite. She loved you. She didn’t hate your mother because she wanted her husband. She hated how Lyssandra treated you. She’d have killed her for it, given half the chance.”
Instead, Lyssandra had killed her.
Galla patted his arm, a gentle gesture he wasn’t used to from anyone but Callie.
“I’ll go get what you need. Take care of her until I return.”
He was left alone with his little sister, and he watched her whimper as she slept. She burned with fever and he burned with rage. He was going to kill them all. Dance in their blood. Give their heads to Callie as a sign of his love.
He wondered if she’d like that.

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