Bellona Victrix

[Lady_Mornington]

OOC: Magbeam's and my take on Rome as a matriarchy. If you want to join do so by pm-ing either of us.

"Damn your eyes woman!"

Legate Julia Quintillia Vestinia glared at her secretary as the unfortunate woman dropped an armful of scrolls to the floor of the command tent. It was well past midnight but there was still so much that needed to be seen to. And of course everything had to be carried out with extreme secrecy. Already there were rumours buzzing about the camp. It was a damn awkward business but what could you do? The Empress commanded and the legions obeyed.

Empress Claudia. A simpleton by all accounts, and it would be a gross perversion of the truth to state that the woman commanded any great respect. It was, however, untenable for a legate to voice such opinions, even if Julia agreed wholeheartedly. No best keep quiet, that damned freedwoman Narcissa had spies everywhere and even here in Godsforsaken Germany one was not safe from prying eyes.

Reaching for her cup of heated wine and taking a sip. The reserves ran low and soon there would be little else but that acidic pish that the Gauls produced. Gods how she wished she was back in Rome rather than be stuck on this particular spot. But then again she knew the drills. Serve as a legate, shower the legion and her own person in glory not to mention riches and then return to Rome and assume a seat in the Senate.

Senatrix Vestinia. Yes it has a certain ring to it, and it was a family tradition after all.

Leaning back in her seat and rubbing her eyes. Yes, Senatrix Julia Quintilia Vestinia. It had a nice ring to it, and it would mean the end to this dreary business planning for a campaign that fell little short of madness, all in order to prop up that useless Claudia.

Then again, duty had been a defining feature of the Vestinias. Julia's great to the unknown grandmother had earned the cognomen Vestinia after she supressed the Vestini tribe during the Social War. After that Julia Tullia had been raised to the position as senatrix, although she had been purged during the maniac Dictarix Sullis reign. The Vestinias went into exile but returned in time to sidle with Gaia Julia Ceasaris during the civil war against Gnaea Pompeia Magna. The Tulliae Vestinia had reaped the rewards, Empress Augusta bestowing them with patrician status for their unyielding support in putting the horrible upstart Marcella Antonia to rights.

Divine Augusta...Julia nodded wistfully. That had been a proper Empress, and she figured that her namesake Julia Ceasaris would have belonged to that category as well. A far cry from the half-wit currently ruling the civilized world. It seemed the Deities of the Capitoline had played a crude joke on Rome by allowing Claudia to acceed the throne.

And now the invasion of Britain.

Who in her right mind would want anything to do with that damned island. As far as Julia was concerned there was nothing of interest to the Empire there. Better let the savages continue their dark and barbarian existence without having to let Roman taxpayers subsidy them. That was the inevital outcome. Britain would be yet another drain on the resources. Women, money and what not.

Oh well it had to wait. Right now she was deadly tired and all she wanted was to sleep. There was of course the issue of her husband. Julia had been adamant that he'd stay in Rome but the boy had begged her to take him with her. Not that he enjoyed it, the harsh realities of the frontier regions taking it's toll on his delicate constitution. It would be just another one of these dreadful nights where he moped about and made a scene.

Julia had the greatest respect for her mother, Julia Prima, but the marriage that she had been pushed into didn't exactly endear her. Junia Caecilia Metella was merely a knight, but a rich one and Legate Vestinia's mother had been adamant that the marriage to Metellus would be carried out. Money talks and all that.

Swearing under her breath as she paced the yard separating her private lodgings from the offices of the legion commanders. At least there was the small blessing in not having to be bothered by senior tribuna Publia. Juno's breasts, she did hate that woman with a passion. Perhaps it was a sign that even her husband would be in a better state than he had been for the past week.

 

[magbeam]

Metellus Vestinius

This was not what he had had in mind. Not in the least.

Metellus Vestinius - until very recently Caecilius Metellus, son of the notable equestrian Junia Caecilia Metella and a man from a relatively minor provincial family, now long dead - sadly stared out upon the shores of the cold and rough and impersonal Oceanus Britannicus. He drew his shawl around him, for the first time glad that he his new wife had not allowed him to bring any of his smooth, but transparent to wind (as well as sight) silk tunics.

Of course, it had been his fault, really, for him being here, not Julia's. He was the one who had begged and cajoled and pleaded his new wife to let him leave her splendidly tended domus in the City and join her at the army the Imperatrix was readying to complete the Divine Caesaris's first foray. She had refused at first, and Metellus had found it terrifying to go against her word. It wasn't that she was cruel to him, at least as such, she was just different. Metellus had grown up as sheltered as all men of his station were. He knew little beyond his mother's beautiful home, his poetry scrolls and familiar slaves and his little orange cat. He would have liked nothing better than to stay there his whole life.

But of course, personal wants had little control over the life of a man. His mother needed a connection to a notable patrician, senatorial family. Julia needed the wealth and respectability his family had in abundance and hers lacked following the association of some of her clients and relatives in the recent Dalmatian revolt. And so Metellus had been forced to leave his room and his little cat behind and move in with his new wife. Perhaps she wasn't cruel, but intimidating? Rough? Living up to the expectations of an Army officer? All true. Their wedding night, ending in his silent tears, had not helped settle his nerves, and Metellus had originally been glad to wish his new wife farewell as she was galled up to her legion in Gaul.

It was then that he had been confronted with an empty house, slaves he did not know, what little friends he had out of his reach, his relatives busy and mother far from willing to let him back into her house except on rare social occasions. He had been married off to her advantage; so he had served his purpose to her. It was then that he had asked to join Julia. Anything was better than being alone; he had thought that perhaps they might warm to each other through the experience - as if anything could warm here. He had been fueled by years of having nothing to do but sit around and think; Metellus had had the misfortune to let his thoughts wander to adventure, glory, all the womanly pursuits that he wished, more than anything, he could participate in. Expected to, at the least, witness as an Army husband in the field.

The reality, as he increasingly realized it always would be, was rather more disappointing.

No silk. No fresh fruits or vegetables. None of his prized Syrian slaves. No thermae or theaters. No warm Roman sun he had spent his entire life under. No fighting or barbarians or gilded Imperatrix. Often enough, no Julia.

Still no orange cat.

Wistfully, he looked out upon the sea one more time, trying to spot just a glimpse of the land beyond it. The writings of Caesaris and the accounts of travelers and merchants said that there were actually tribes there where men ruled, were treated as equals. What a concept. And those were the same tribes his wife was now preparing to wipe out. Strange indeed to feel sympathy with a barbarian, but if anything was capable of provoking such to Metellus, this was it.

It was very lonely here.

"Let's go back," Metellus muttered to the two of his wife's personal slaves, who accompanied him everywhere whenever he left their house here. To protect him, of course. Which translated into protecting her investment. He was a dutiful husband in all regards, new and often uncomfortable, if not downright frightening, they were for him. He could not say that he loved her. Not yet, at least. All the great moralists he had been tutored in said that the truest relationships were grown into. Of course, those were all women, and they were all the hardest ones to read.

Back in he housing, Metellus nursed a small cup of mulled spiced wine, the additions serving to offset the fact that it was watered down and of a far too inferior vintage than he enjoyed. But at least it was warm, and it made him feel a bit less empty. There was a commotion near the door, and Metellus jumped to his feet as Julia entered.

"Hello, wife. How...has your day gone well so far?" he asked, his fingers fidgeting as he twined them with each other, before remembering to lean in to kiss her cheek, gingerly and pulling back quickly, not sure if he had committed an error in offering the kiss too soon, not soon enough, at all, asking about her duties, not about her, speaking at all...

Trying to mask his nerves and knowing he failed to do so under his wife's eagle eye, Metellus motioned for the slaves to bring her a cup of the warmed wine as well.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Julia Quintillia Vestinia

Julia sighed as she handed her scarlet cloak to the servant in attendance and received the kiss ot her cheek by her husband. Trying her best to offer him a smile at his rather pathetic attempts to greet her properly. The boy, for he was little more than one, was being skittish in the extreme and more often than not, he made an arse of himself.

Nerves did play a big part in it, at least Julia imagined that they did, but surely his father must had been giving him some little information what was to be expected of a man? Then again, it was not that he had wanted this marriage anymore than she did, but events out of Julia Prima's control had forced her hand thus landing Julia Quintillia in this situation.

"My day was adequate. There are a number of things that needs seeing to" Julia felt a stab of anger, the burden of keeping the legion in line was beginning to wear her down and she expected that Metellius did try and show some consideration. Taking a deep breath as she walked across to the dining room and sat down on her couch. "But none that you need trouble your pretty head with." She offered him the shadow of a smile as one of the servants handed her a cup of mulled wine. "So tell me my dove, what have occupied you today?" Julia leaned back as she studied the features of her husband. He was pretty, that was beyond any doubt, but all in all a bit dull-witted. Then again what was one to expect from the equestrian families? His mother was respectable, Julia was the first to admit that, but when all was said and done, but even the tubs of money didn't make up for the apparent failings of Metellus.

It wasn't that Julia advocated too much spirit in a husband, but just once it would be nice to be able to speak to him without having to witness how the boy flinched every five seconds. Even that would have been acceptable if the boy had had the decency to carry out his husbandly duties, but even there Metellus fell short of the mark. Oh well, Julia Prima had been very clear on the matter, it took time to groom the boys into something resembling the companion they were meant to be, and had they had the luxury of being in Rome it might just have been an enjoyable task. Now however Julia did not have neither the time nor the energy to go about it, but she still forced herself to calm herself, as she reached across to take his hand, sighing inwardly as he flinched yet again.

"I know I've asked you this before but didn't your father tell you just a little about what is to be expected by a husband?" Probably not and even if he had done so the man had been some country bumpkin, scarcely able to make himself understood in passable Latin. "It would be nice to be able to be greeted properly just once in a while, and if I'd be so lucky, have a half-decent conversation with you." Feeling the resentment well up as she let go of Metellus' limp hand. "And to see you make the effort to set some standards in the household. I'm certain your mother would not have been as forgiving as I am."

Julia shot him a hard stare as she got up from the couch. It wasn't that she was a bad woman, but generations of Tulliae Vestinia had created an ethos by which Julia lived, and she'd be damned if her own husband wasn't going to abide by her rules. If it became known she'd be the laughing stock of the staff officers. A legate who couldn't keep her husband on a firm leash. Juno's tits!

Metellus looked ready to burst into tears, prompting Julia to kneel down by his couch and running her fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry about that, I'm quite certain you do your best but a little more effort wouldn't go amiss. Now I've got some more things that needs tending to." She kissed his forehead as she stood up. "We'll talk more about this tomorrow."

 

[magbeam]

Metellus Vestinius

Julia's quite obviously half-hearted smile in return to his greeting only made Metellus look down at the ground. It was even worse than if she had not even bothered to acknowledge his husbandly welcome. He had done the best he could; it was not as if he was holding back or deliberately trying to antagonize her. It was just so hard for him to get used to. Women were a total unknown to him, older women and patrician women doubly so, at least outside of social parties where he had always been safely within arm's reach of Mother. He was only sorry he had failed Julia again.

Metellus gingerly sat down on the couch across from the one Julia selected, tucking his legs up beneath him, occupying his fingers with adjusting the hem of his tunic to keep it modestly covering himself, his eyes focused on the task as if it were the most vital thing in the world. Anything to avoid looking into the burning intensity of his wife's.

"My day?" Metellus looked up, slowly and shyly, his eyes meeting hers for an instant before darting away, then slowly, timidly resuming contact. He was surprised she wanted to hear about anything in the day of a man, even if she were only asking for completely-unnecessary courtesy and not any actual interest. "I...I washed, and eat, and looked over the staff, and read some poetry of Catulla, and then I was bored and decided to take a walk. The air is not...it is cold and wet, but I think it would be worse for my constitution if I did not get any of it. I looked at the ocean. It seems to big and cold, are you sure that there is anything beyond..."

Metellus trailed off as he saw his wife growing bored, and his eyes immediately returned to their usual state - observing the floor, or his fingernails or tunic or the wine. Anywhere pointing down and not where he would have to see his wife's displeasure that he already felt far too acutely. He felt it himself. What was he doing, telling her about idling around with poetry scrolls or wandering around the cold shore or watching as slaves did everything without him needing to do anything? If living it had been as deathly boring to Metellus, he could only imagine how his wife - a woman, and used not only to woman's pursuits but the life of an exciting Army officer - would find it.

"I'm sorry," he said, eyes still focused on his lap, his fingers grasping and tugging the tunic's hem. "I didn't mean to bore you. Here or elsewhere. I just..." Metellus didn't know how to articulate the words in his head, and even if he did, he knew that lonely desperation was not something a husband should be presenting to his wife. "I want to make you happy, Julia, I'm really trying," he said, his eyes blinking rapidly to keep his emotions in check.

A rough, tanned, womanly hand entered his field of vision, taking one of his own soft ones into her palm. Metellus couldn't help but start at the physical contact. Most husbands should be glad of such a thing from their wives, or at least such he had heard from his older brothers and male relatives. Was he supposed to keep his hand limp? Squeeze it? Return pressure? Take as an invitation to something else?

Then Julia let go of his hand, beginning to castigate him, standing up, looming over him. Metellus's blinking accelerated, starting to sniffle, his entire head bowed down at the ground now. In truth, his father had died when Metellus had been too young to learn anything of use from him, and his older brothers were all married on their own. Slaves were of course useless. For all intents and purposes it had been him and Mother alone in the house, and Mother would never have anything to do with such instructions to her youngest son. Metellus was trying the best he could. He didn't want to bore Julia. He didn't want to make her angry in bed or mismanage her house. And just as strongly he knew that his ignorance was all his fault. Somehow, he should have been better, should have learned.

"I'm sorry, Julia. I'm so sorry. I know. You're much more forgiving than my mother. Thank you. You're so kind to me, Julia, I'm so sorry I can't make you happier in return. I'll learn, I promise. I'll learn fast. I'll make you proud, Julia, I promise. That's all I want to do." Metellus was struggling to hold back tears, only succeeding because he knew that to openly cry in her presence would only increase the scorn and anger of the wife he already knew he could never please.

Julia kneeled before him, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead and telling him that they would talk tomorrow. "Yes, Julia. Thank you, Julia. I'll give even more effort into it." But as soon as she was gone, Metellus pulled his knees up, laying his head on them and letting his tears come out.

A few months ago, he had had no further cares in the world than reading, the occasional weaving or largely-nominal slave oversight, or tending to his beloved orange cat. Now he was a husband, supposed to know his wife's every wish, run everything to her satisfaction, take charge of an entire house, satisfy her in bed, tend to children once they had them...Metellus rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, standing up.

It wasn't fair. He just wanted to go home.

Two of the houseslaves were nearby, having tried their best to ignore the Dominus's outburst, not that he cared anyways. "You, Omdorix," he said, trying to imitate his mother's tone of command to the household staff, and aware that he succeeded in only perfecting a shadow of it. "Let's...you clean up these cups."

Maybe, if he tried very, very hard and prayed long into the night, Metellus thought, Julia would be happy with the results.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Julia Quintillia Vestinia

She really didn't have any more matters that needed addressing tonight. It had been a white lie to ward of further confrontations with her husband. Juno, Diana and Venus the boy could drive her mad. Of course he conformed to the physical description of how a man ought to look, but apart from that. No there was nothing much to say in mitigation.

Julia retreated to her study, making sure that door was firmly shut before slumping down in the chair and stretching her muscular legs out. She would need to write Senatrix Vestinia, informing her mother and sponsor that she intended to anull the marriage. Well after the invasion of Britain that was. If everything went according to plan, the XIV Legion, the fearsome Bellona Victrix would be the first to set foot on the island and in due time subdue the barbarians residing there, and who would the Empress look to? Legate Vestinia.

Closing her eyes, Julia could see the Triumph. Admittedly it would be held in the dimwit Claudia's honour but there was no way that Legate Vestinia would be left out. Allowing herself to indulge in the fantasy, sending back the spoils of the succesful campaign to the citizens of Rome. Hearing the newsreaders announcing Julia Vestinia's victories over the painted savages that inhabited Britain. Then who knew. The Julia-Claudia dynasty was on it's last legs. Claudia's position being less than secure, and the fickle masses of Rome would be quick to transfer their allegiances, should the right woman step forward. Besides, there were enough senatrices who owed their position and fortunes to the Vestiniae and if Juno so wanted then perhaps...

Julia Imperatrix.

She felt herself shiver as she savoured the thought. It wasn't unobtainable a goal, not if she did what she was trained to do. Kept the legion in check and brought victory to Rome. She was well connected enough to have words spread throughout the capital. There were enough senatrices who would do the bidding of Julia Prima and if all went well then...

Julia Imperatrix.

The worthy heiress of Julia Ceasaris and Divine Augusta. The name Vestinia forever inscribed in the annals of history. Hadn't she been fed the histories of the deeds of her foremothers? Had not Julia Tullia Vestinia showed what the name demanded? Had not Tullia Vestinia showed her capacity when putting Marcella Antonia to rights? It was her destiny, of that she was certain, and did not the Vestiniae descend from Juno herself? Thus ran the legend, and while Julia herself might have been sceptic as to the truth to such claim, she knew that the populace, the fickle mass that was Rome was eager to belive so.

Julia Imperatrix.

She felt a warm glow run through her as she leaned back in the seat. Yes if she just played the dice right then...Her train of thought interrupted by the careful knock on the door and the entry of her youngest servant, carrying a cup of wine. It was usually the task of her secretary, but she figured that Hebe had taken the opportunity to sneak of to bed, lazy Greek as she was, and instead sent the boy with the drink.

Julia watched him as he put the cup down and stood back. Pretty and apparently not as inexperienced as her own good for nothing husband. She knew her friends had a more relaxed attitude to the use of their slaves, and had the situation been different then perhaps Julia would have succumed to the temptation.

But the times demanded her utmost attention, and while she saw no moral objection to the act she was well aware of the way that husbands tended to react. Well not all of them. Her father had been gracious about it, knowing that there was indeed a difference between the wenches and the husbands. She did however doubt that Metellus would be able to understand that, and seeing as the slave was young enough to flaunt it should she go down that particular path. No better to stick to the overly prudish and avoid any distractions from the task at hand.

She dismissed the boy and turned to her favourite book, the tale of Queen Leonida of Sparta and the battle against Empress Xerxia at Thermopylae. 300 Spartan women holding sway against the hordes of Asia. Most likely an exageration, but the general air of the tale had always inspired Julia.

Scanning through the verses until sleep finally caught up with her. It was not the first time that Legate Vestinia had been found asleep at her desk, apparently seeing to her duties and the legend had spread. It served her purposes and she had done nothing to stem the flow of the rumours.

She was woken up by Hebe before the sun had risen, and informed about her schedule for today. The Greek woman also informed her that her husband was waiting for her.

Now that was an interesting twist, Metellus had rarely seen it fit to drag his pampered self from the sleeping couch before she did. Perhaps the boy was beginning to see sense?

 

[magbeam]

Metellus Vestinius

Metellus spent much of the rest of the day conducting the operations of the slaves about the house. It was better than just sitting alone on the shore all day, but it did very little to make him feel better or more important. Even at home - he still thought of his mother's house as home, not here or Julia's domus in Rome - he felt little need to direct the slaves who were well versed at what they needed to do, a good deal of them who had been doing it since before his birth. Here, not only was the situation the same with them, but he was an outsider, and thus had even less idea of what needed to be done, what proper procedure was for Julia. And here on campaign, only Julia's oldest or most trusted and valued slaves had been taken. They all had been with their domina longer than Metellus had been. Him directing them only made it feel more awkward for him, more of an outsider. Even the slaves were closer to his wife than he was. The reverse was no doubt true.

So he had played the charade as best as his abilities, which were as lacking as any other useful skill he tried at. After all, he was not an actor, nor one of the working-class men, or a Britanni warrior. He was a good little boy, and good little boys were supposed to keep their minds as vacant as possible before they suddenly needed to take on the responsibilities of an entire house. And then as the sun had gone down and the work had been finished, Metellus had had nothing to do but pace the living room back and forth for several minutes before deciding to prepare for sleep. It was not as if he went out at night anyways back home; a delicate thing like him would certainly not last the night in the streets of the City. But even there he at least had his meager few books to occupy him.

Here, he just had his marriage bed.

A few slaves - all Julia's, of course, all of his were forever behind him back home; it was as odd as losing favored tunics or combs for uncomfortable foreign ones - washed him in what warm water there was, before drying his shivering body before a looking glass, giving him time to examine himself. He was slim, with his skin - carefully guarded from the sun - icey pale but still dusted lightly with freckles. His hair was a rich brown, eyes greenish-blue, legs youthful and coltish, and in between them, the shameful member that he wished he didn't have. If only he didn't look so attractive, perhaps Julia would have refused the wedding, found another pretty little boy from a rich family looking for a quick fix. If only he were a woman he wouldn't have to worry about this at all. He wondered how many women gave a thought to how lucky they were not be cursed with the delicate sex.

Not many, Metellus supposed.

After the evening ceremonies were done and Metellus lay in the bed, curled in a fetal position with arms wrapped around his knees and nothing but his thin silk shift on, he held his breath, letting it out after it became clear that Julia would not be joining him tonight, yet again. A cold, empty bed was lonely, perhaps, so far from home and without his favorite slaves to join him and provide comfort when he was sad or warmth when he was cold, as they often did back home. But it was better than having to perform his disgusting and degrading duties for Julia. He had thought he would vomit the first time he had had to move his mouth down between...well, best not to think about it. And it wasn't like she even enjoyed it, from how she complained. He felt another tear trickle down. The one husbandly duty he at least could do, and he couldn't even do it right. He would tolerate that disgusting act if it would only make Julia happy, give her at least one good thing to say to him, to smile at him, to be nice to him for.

Getting out of bed, Metellus kneeled in front of the small shrine to Jove Pater, one of the few things of his he had been allowed to bring not only to Julia's house, but also from thence to here. Even, or rather especially, a campaigning general could not afford to slight a god. Closing his eyes, Metellus bowed to the floor in front of his patron god.

Oh please, Father Jove, hear me...I don't have anything to give to you now and even if I did it would just be Julia's. Please, Father Jove, I'm so lonely here. Julia hates me. I want to be a good husband, Jove, I just don't know how to. Please help me. Right now, I want to make her happy more than anything in the world, if I can't go home. I just want to be a proper husband. Please, please, oh please Father...

Metellus's eyes were closed, blood pounding through his temples, his whole body feeling aflame. He felt a presence looming over him, bright lights starting to sparkle through his eyelids. His entire body felt rigid. Suddenly, he started to spasm, his entire body shaking, collapsing to the floor, jerking, feeling boiling and unable to move and breath and the lights...

When Metellus awoke, he was not the least bit tired. He had just received an answer from Father Jove, after all. He stood, on legs that were somewhat shaky, summoning a slave to help him dress. When Julia was awakened a short while later, he called upon his wife's favorite slave, Hebe the Greekwoman, to see if he could enter. When she returned, he followed her into Julia's office.

"Good morning, wife," Metellus said as propriety dictated, trying not to stare, then trying not to look away. "You...you said we could talk today? When, that is, what time would be best for you? I mean, I will be here all day, of course, I just...I would like to speak with you, Julia, sometime, if that is possible with your schedule?"

He flinched again. That did not go anywhere near as well as he had hoped.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Julia Quintillia Vestinia

Perhaps it was just her imagination but it seemed that Metellus had indeed undergone a change. The way the boy carried himself was not quite as skittish as his usual appearance, and she offered him a shadow of a smile as she sat down to have her breakfast served. Warm honeyed bread with mulled wine and even some strips of meat to go with it. She tucked in as she listened with half an ear to what her husband had to say, realising that whatever change had taken place, the effects was not that thorough as one could have hoped, or even demanded.

"Yes I said we should talk and I think that it's best that we do so now." She sat back and stared at him. "Marriage is not an easy thing my dove, perhaps it is the hardest trial one is likely to face. I sometimes envy you and every other man, what do you have to bother about? Keeping the slaves in line and making sure that the Materfamilias the needs of the Materfamilias is seen too. One would think that it's an easy enough task wouldn't you?"

She sipped her wine as she lay back on the couch. "I know you are quite versed as far as poetry is concerned and I think that to be one of your endearing traits Metellus. If nothing else it provides some common ground for wife and husband to meet on." She paused as she looked across to him. "But I fear that not even that has managed to bridge the gap between us. I'm not saying that it is all your fault, I have been occupied as you know, and perhaps I should have made an effort to see your situation. However, my duty to Claudia Imperatrix and to the Legion must come first, I'm sure your mother would have agreed to such a sentiment wouldn't she? As far as I know Junia's dedication to Rome is beyond any doubt. Which leads us to the core of the matter."

Julia put her cup down and sat up on the couch. "I am not at all happy with you Metellus. Jove Pater knows that I have shown a considerable patience with you, but even I have my limits. You will reform and you will do so rapidly lest I will have a divorce. I'm sure that your mother would be devastated and even though I know that it is preposterous to think that you would do a thing like this for me and for love, I know that you would not want to see her disappointed would you?"

She stood up and moved closer. "I'm willing to give you a final chance at redeeming yourself Metellus but I need you to snap out of whatever lethargy you are currently suffering from. How am I supposed to command the legion if I cannot even be seen to command my own husband?"

Julia spoke in a softer more conciliatory tone as she reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I know your mother pampered you and that you didn't have the benefit of learning how to properly behave from your father but you will make the effort is that understood? Perhaps you should have word with one of the male slaves. I belive one or two was quite favoured by my mother and they are likely to be able to provide you with a hint or two."

She stood up and released her grip of his hand. "I shall see you later Metelleus and I want you to give this discussion some proper thought." Julia looked intently at her husband before turning on her heel and leaving him to his own thoughts. She donned the breastplate and the cloak, sword and helmet before stepping out into the courtyard. Her mind already focused on the tasks ahead of her.

 

[magbeam]

Metellus Vestinius

Metellus remained standing as slaves entered to serve his wife breakfast. She hadn't invited him to sit down with her, and even if she had there was not much space on her office couch. And Metellus certainly did not want to cause her any discomfort or annoyance by having to squeeze alongside her. He rather doubted she would appreciate the intimate contact, anyways.

Metellus's stomach burbled at the scent of the food, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since last evening, and not much since he had arrived here - although he was not sure if the slaves, used to his late risings, had prepared anything for him, and of course would not dream of asking Julia for some of her meal. Back home, he hadn't been a heavy eater either, more from a lack of a heavy constitution than from any desire to keep his body trim and pleasing, although the added stresses of a married life and needing to please Julia at least in looks had added to that considerably. The dank, dreary Gallic shores had just served to curtail whatever small ability to had to ingest, let alone enjoy, the unpalatable Army food.

But if he was feeling hungry now, maybe that was a good thing. A sign that he was starting to adjust to life as the husband of a legate. That would be good. Metellus clung to that hope desperately.

He was somewhat surprised when Julia agreed to speak with him now, continuing to stand and hoping she wasn't going to ask him his views or what he wanted to discuss with her. Metellus had just had a vague idea of asking to speak with her, that they would somehow be able to connect, he would be able to absorb some of her resolve and impart on her his eagerness to please. They would go their separate ways with a new understanding between them, he would work so much harder, fix whatever he was doing wrong; she would smile at him and treat him less like an unruly pet; their marriage would not seem so much like concubinage to the Great Queen of Persia...

"Yes, Julia." Instead, Metellus found himself looking down at the floor again, as he was once more being scolded. Even as his cheeks burned, he couldn't fault Julia for it. Her words were so logical. Everything he had to do was so simple and still he failed it. The problems had to be all with him. "It's a very easy task, Julia. I'm so sorry I can't do better at it. I will, and soon, I promise, Julia. I don't blame you for it. You're a woman, you're occupied with a woman's work, defending the State. It's only natural that your focus be on proper goals. It's all my fault."

However, at her next words, Metellus's head moved up, eyes looking straight at Julia's for once, his delicate pink lips forming a wide O of shock.

"Divorce?"

His fine cheekbones became even paler, a ghost of his normal ivory skin, the freckles that much more contrasted. His eyes looked down again, before timidly looking back up, seeking Julia's...well, if not her own eyes, at least her face. He couldn't be divorced, not now. His mother would be so furious at him. All that family money spent on the wedding and dowry, the political connection snapped, the scandal, the horror of having a tainted son - no longer a virgin, unable even to please an Army wife to the degree she divorced over it...

"Please, Julia," he said, licking his lips and trying to stop his eyes from going any further than misting, but still looking at her nonetheless, a great achievement even if he hadn't been under such great duress as caused by that pronouncement. "I'll reform, I promise. I'm so sorry. I don't mean to embarrass you. I'll reform, I promise."

It was only as Julia let go of his hand that Metellus's eyes dropped back down to the floor. "I'll give it a lot of thought, Julia, I promise. I'll talk to the slaves. I'll make such a good effort, Julia, I promise." But he was talking to himself, for Julia had already left the room, and indeed the house, out to a day of her exciting woman's world. Metellus stood still, suddenly feeling very cold in the sea air but not moving, other than to wrap his arms around himself. He longed to go home, but not this way, when things would be even worse. What he really wanted was to never have been married in the first place. But since that was impossible, he could only do his best to make sure he took the lesser of two untenable options.

After a few minutes, a slave entered, asking him if he would like to eat now. Nodding silently, Metellus turned to head back into the living room. He would eat now, go through his morning rituals, and then talk with the male slaves. Maybe he would feel better then. Probably not, but hopefully Julia would, and in the end, wasn't that all a husband was supposed to care about?

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Julia Quintillia Vestinia

If Legate Vestinia had but one discerning feature it was her ability to focus on the issues necessary for the execution of her duty. She had rarely experienced problems separating the personal issues from the chores that combined in making up her duty as commander of the XIV Legion.

Today proved different. Try as she liked, she could not push the images of her husband from her mind's eye, and it infuriated her. Father Jove knew how just how patient she had been with him, not forcing the issue of his husbandly duties, for all intents and purposes leaving their marriage unconsummated. Her mother would never have accepted such a state of affairs, and for once Julia felt relieved that Julia Prima did not have to witness the state of her marriage.

The centurion assigned to the guard of honour seemed to sense her ill humour and refrained from offering even the customary niceties, thus directing the legate's escort in silence.

Hebe was already in attendance as Julia entered her study, presenting the reports of what had progressed during the following night, as well as a number of other scrolls that needed her attention. The Bellona Victrix was to conduct amphibious training in preparation for the landing in Britain. According to Ceasaris, the natives were fierce if yet undisciplined, relying on archaic tactics and yet to understand the importance of cavalry.

"Should be as simple as a stroll across the Forum."

Julia looked up to meet the smiling features of the Senior Tribuna Saturnina Aurelia Publia, the women who for all intents and purposes acted as her second in command.

"Have you forgotten how to salute Tribuna?" Julia gave her an icy stare as she pushed a strand of her dark hair from her forehead.

"No of course not, sorry Ma'm" Publia smartly saluted and stood to attention before her desk. Juno's cunt how she hated that woman. Had it been that Publia was useless then it would have been understandible, but the fact was that the Tribuna was very good at her chosen trade. A dab hand with the legionaires as well. Julia was not above listening in to the talk of the women in the ranks and she had come to understand that they had taken a shine to the easy-going tribuna. Julia knew that she would never aspire to be loved by the troops. Respected, yes even feared but never loved. To further add insult to injury, Publia was dashingly handsome, the mane of honey blonde hair and the finely chiselled features giving her a look of classic beauty. Even though Julia outranked her, both in terms of social standing and in the hierarchy in the legion she could not help but feel ill at ease in her company.

Then was of course the Tribuna's marriage. Happy as few and apparently a lovematch. She even brought her little husband with her and didn't think twice in showing just how happy she was. Even so Julia knew that Publia was rumoured to favour the occasional girl as well. The custom not uncommon but something that had never appealed to her.

Gods she hated her.

"So what can I do for you Tribuna?" Julia poured as much sarcasm into the sentence as possible to underline just how inconvenient she found Publia's presence.

"Please Ma'm, it is not for a legate to do service to a mere Tribuna. I was merely wondering when we are scheduled to commence the exercises. Can't wait to give the stinking savages a dose of Roman steel." Pulia smiled, and further infuriated Julia by her seemingly effortless capacity to look like the world was merely there to underline her own perfection.

"If you wouldn't be so occupied with your affairs, marital et extra marital perhaps you would have picked that up by now Tribuna. I do not care whom you bed but if you are chosing young Gaulish women then I at least ask you to be discreet." Julia almost growled as she delivered her sentiment "and we will march out tomorrow for the first excercises."

Publia merely smiled "I'm sorry to have offended your sense of what is appropriate Ma'm. I'll make sure to behave in a more suitable fashion in the future."

******

It was nearer to midnight as Julia made her way back to her lodgings. She had had the honour guard stood down for the night, not wanting to be accompanied by the sullen faces of the legionaires as she walked the few blocks back to her own home.

What would it be like? Probably having to suffer through another tear-filled discussion with her good for nothing husband and then falling asleep in her study. All the while Publia was happy as a lark and rolling around the sleeping couch with either her little Fulvio or some girl. She gritted her teeth at the thought of her subordinates insufferable happiness.

It wasn't that she asked for much was it? Just that Metellus would give it a try, nothing more. But perhaps it was best for all parties if the divorce went through. He would be shamed of course, but then again, with the fortunes she would make from conquering Britain she was certain that she could strike a deal with Junia. After all the family was only Equestrian, and if she pulled some strings then perhaps Metellus could be handed over to some of her widowed clients. Yes that would probably settle the thing.

Sighing as she stepped inside the house to find her husband waiting for her and to her surprise greeting her properly. No sign of tears and not as skittish as he usually did. Now this was an interesting development.

 

[magbeam]

Metellus Vestinius

Metellus had left his wife's room finally, behind a slave, watching almost silently as they prepared a meal of warmed wine, fruits, and heated, honeyed bread for him to eat. Every once in a while he quietly offered a suggestion, which the slaves tolerated with good humor. After all, like everything else he did, Metellus changed very little when he acted on anything at all, and in any case, with breakfast there was very little that could go wrong anyways.

Afterwards, he went to the pitiful excuse for thermae that passed in this provincial port town. It had been little more than a fish village until even the time of Augusta. Now it was barely better, but at least the necessity of housing an entire garrison of the Roman army had forced at least token Romanization upon it. And of course her wife's omnipresent slaves were with him. It would be ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous for him to go to the thermae back in Rome without a bodyslave, but ever since he had been with Julia, he had had the feeling that they were as much attendants as they were...not prison guards, but overseers nevertheless. As if he could run anywhere here, anyways.

Chief among his wife's retinue of bodyslaves, at least the ones who tended to Metellus, was a Gallic man named Omdorix, somewhat older than Metellus himself and as friendly as a slave could be to its master. He was called a Gaul, but really the only thing Gallic about him was his name. According to what Julia and Julia Prima had hinted, their Gallic slaves had all come into their possession as a result of their ancestress's actions in the Gallic Wars during the time of Caesaris. From what the slaves themselves had implied, however, was that while their ancestors had come into the possession of the Quintilliae Vestiniae during that time, it was through Greek merchants making a killing off of the slave trade rather than any combat role.

Metellus knew better than to repeat that, of course, to Julia or anyone else.

Most of the Gallic house staff were manumitted after a certain age, forming client families of the Quintilliae Vestiniae. Thus their relatives still directly serving the house were treated, not anywhere like friends of course, but at least something more than possessions. And of them, Omdorix was the closest and friendliest to him - Metellus no longer even thought about being reduced to needing the friendship of a slave. As Omdorix washed his mistress's husband, Metellus considered asking him for advice in the bedroom, but shied away. It would be humiliating enough to ask the Gaul, even if as a slave he no doubt had had his share of romps. But that was the problem. What if he'd serviced Julia before? Did Metellus really want to know that, risk angering Julia with repeated moves, risk the entire staff finding out and laughing behind his back?

Metellus opened his mouth, then closed it again, then once more opened it - but not because he had finally worked up the nerve to ask the slave, but because the most beautiful man Metellus had ever seen had entered the baths, followed by two of the most beautiful, dusky slaves ever, his connoisseur's eye telling him they were Syrians. The man himself was a few years older than Metellus, his skin smooth and uniform white with a hint of darker blood beneath the surface, cornflower blue eyes sparkling with intelligence and wit offering the perfect counterbalance to a mass of blonde curls that had Metellus holding his breath in envy at the beauty.

As if the man could tell that he was being appreciated, his sapphires turned to a blushing Metellus, but before the youth could avert his gaze, the newcomer had approached. "You're Metellus Vestinius, aren't you? The legate's husband?" he asked, before Metellus could think up an excuse to explain why he was looking. "I'm Licinius Aurelius, the Senior Tribuna's husband. My, you're the tasty one, aren't you?" he asked, eyes trailing up and down Metellus's body.

"Pleased to meet you...Licinius," Metellus said, affably enough, finally settling on the fact that they were social equals. Or, as the commander's husband, he might even be somewhat higher. Not that he would act that way, of course. He didn't want to dissuade the first person he had seen who might be considered a friend.

The two talked for some time, Metellus sensing that Licinius could tell that the newcomer was uncomfortable and needed a friend. The fact that it could also be maneuvering to get information on his wife's rival didn't fully occur to Metellus, and even had it, he still would have liked to finally be able to open to someone.

They talked about fashion, how dreary it was to be in the provinces, their favorite poets and Licinius even listened to Metellus talking about cats. Afterwards, it was his turn to speak, and Licinius leaned in close, his blue eyes sparkling as he laid a hand innocently on Metellus's thigh.

"And how is it with you and your wife, bed-wise? She is such a handsome woman, if you don't mind me saying so, I often wonder what it would be like with her. Surely, a woman such as her and a boy as darling as you..." Licinius reached out to curl one of Metellus's strands of hair around one of his fingers. "Well, surely you two must make the Earth herself tremble with the force of your bliss?"

"Well..." Metellus squirmed, not just entirely due to Licinius's sudden interest in his hair. "Not exactly. It...it's hard for me. I try, I really do," he pleaded, suddenly earnest, not wanting his one new friend to turn from him. "It, that is my member, it just...And then she has me, me..." His voice was a whisper now, almost giggling from the subject, his cheeks flushed. "She had me use my mouth on her privies, but I don't think she likes it even then. I...I have to be doing something wrong. I just know it's my fault."

Licinius looked at Metellus for a moment, thinking, then leaned in. "Perhaps I can help you. Just listen..."

******

Later that evening, Metellus stood straight up in the living room, trying his best to remember everything his new closest friend had told him, and to act on it all. One of the things was not to cower or flinch, and that was the hardest thing possible for Metellus when Julia walked in the door. Still, he managed to walk up to her, hoping he didn't tremble as much as his insides felt like, leaning up to give her a kiss on the cheek and a smile, if a shy one.

"H-hello, Julia, my wife. I'm so glad you're home. Let me help you get comfortable." Taking her hand, he led her into their bedroom, shooing the slaves away - as frightening as it was to be alone with Julia, it would be worse to face his angry mother again - and helping her take off her heavy cuirass and uniform, talking as he did.

"I, I have thought a lot about what you said, Julia. You were right, of course, I was certainly not trying hard enough to please you, I want you to know I'm going to change, I promise I am, I'm trying so hard..." Metellus shut himself up, not wanting to annoy her. With her heavy clothing off, he hovered for a second, before sitting down next to her.

"I really am going to change Julia, I promise this time I will. Look at how I greeted you today? Didn't this mean I've changed? I really want to make you happy, Julia. I...I really want to please you." Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Metellus leaned in, kissing Julia on the lips, forcing his hand to caress one of her breasts beneath her tunic. He still might not enjoy the physical act of marriage, but if he could just concentrate on what Licinius told him, maybe Julia would. And that was really all Metellus cared about at this point.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Julia Quintillia Vestinia

The change in her husband's demeanour was palpable, and even though Metellus was still displaying his uncertainties, it was nonetheless better than how he had behaved. Julia smiled as she felt his hand cup her breast, awkwardly so but nevertheless an attempt to cater to her needs. She leaned closer and pressed her lips to his, willing him to part them for her as her tongue sought his. Her calloused hands finding the clips that secured the palla to his shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

She stood back as she pulled her tunic of, noticing the way that her husband looked at her naked body. Julia was tall even for a woman, and thus her well developed muscles, honed through years of soldiering, did not give her a stocky build but rather serving to create a nice symmetry to her frame. Stepping closer as she pushed Metellus back to the sleeping couch as she shed the last of her garments and lay down beside him.

"Now soldier let's see what you're made of" She intended the words as a joke, but they seemed to frighten him somewhat. Still she couldn't be bothered trying to console him now. He'd damned well promised to make the effort and now it was time to make good on it.

Julia lay back as she spread her legs, her eyes locking with his as she motioned for him to service her. It may seem a taunting thing for a man as inexperienced as her husband, but she knew, at least from what her mother had hinted, that most husbands grew to enjoy the act. After all wasn't the giving of pleasure one of the foremost gifts to both wife and husband?

She sighed as she felt his tentative breath against her sex, then the first hesitant touches as his tongue began to circle her most private parts. It was far from perfect, but then again with practice the boy might aspire to that in due time.

Julia ran her fingers through his dark curls, drawing his face closer to her wetness and as his ministrations began to yield results, clamped her muscular thighs around his head, holding him fast to her as ripples of pleasure surged through her. Her breathing becoming more laboured as Metellus found her petal and focused his attention to it, bringing her ever closer to the release to the tensions that had been building up for too long.

She groaned as the stresses were released and clamped her legs around her husband’s head almost smothering him as the waves of the climax crashed through her. Laying back as she closed her eyes and tried to regain her breath as she lazily caressed Metellus’ back with her foot. Not bad she had to give him that and it proved what her mother had told her. Be firm with your husband from the very start..

Moving to her side and gently pushing her over on his back as she straddled him, her hand finding his member, surprised to find him rigid. The last times that had proved impossible for him, and for a moment Julia wondered what he had done to be able to keep himself in such a state. The reflection was short lived however as she felt him entering her. Groaning as she lowered herself onto him and placed her hands on his slender chest.

She bit her lower lip in anticipation as she began moving her hips, grinding down against his slender body. Feeling how every move provoked a stream of pleasurable sensations to surge through her. Clenching her intimate muscles around him as she bore down more heavily, sharp nails digging into the tender skin of his chest almost to the point of breaking it and with a final thrust she climaxed again, collapsing on top of her husband.

Julia lay motionless for a few moments as she regained her breath and with a barely audible sigh she rolled of him and lay down at his side, a smile on her face.

”That was lovely my dove. I’m proud of you.” She planted a kiss on his forehead before laying back and within moments she was fast asleep.

*****
“Move it gentlemen!” The centurionis blew her whistle, bringing the ragged line of legionnaires into a line. “That was thoroughly useless but rest assured my little boys, the Britons will be so perplexed by your pitiful excuse for soldiering that they will either laugh or cry themselves to death. Now get back on the fucking boat and repeat and for the love and compassion of Father Jove, try to do it right this time!”

The legionnaires uttering muted curses as they got back into the water and embarked the ship by means of the nets slung down it’s sides. It was the third time that they had been forced to repeat the drills. Getting of the boat, wade ashore and take up defensive positions and awaiting the next detachment of soldiers to take post next to them. It was far from perfect but Julia was certain that with enough exercise then the Bellona Victrix would be up to the task. She surveyed the disembarkation from the vantage point of a small hill, feeling the first warmth of the spring on her back.

“Quite lovely day Ma’m!”

Julia didn’t even bother to look up as Publia came sauntering, nonchalantly eating an apple. Usually she would have put the fear of Juno into her subordinate for such a blatant display but she was feeling happy for a change and decided to turn a blind eye.

“Isn’t it Tribuna, and incidentally we have yet to abolish the custom of saluting.” Julia kept her eyes on the legionnaires as they once more waded ashore.

“Yes of course, where’s my manners Ma’m” Publia whipped of a salute and moved to stand next to Julia. The woman had the manners of a Pleb, and for a moment Julia could imagine what Ceasaris had to put up with from Antonia.

“Licinius sends his best Ma’m, he had the pleasure of meeting up with that darling husband of yours yesterday at the thermae.”

Publia’s tone made Julia look up and give her subordinate a sharp glance. “What of it? Men do such things I’m sure even you are aware of that Tribuna. Gossiping and Juno knows what.” She turned her attentions back to the legionnaires on the beach below them.

“So they do Ma’m, and sometimes it’s for the benefit of women as well. I understand that there have been a few potholes on the way to marital bliss if you pardon my outspokenness Ma’m. Although I daresay that Licinius offered your husband a few tips how to mend them.”

Julia felt a surge of anger well up. So that was the reason for Metellus’ newfound adeptness to his marital obligations. He’d been blabbering with Licinius or whatever the slut was called and thus Publia had been privy to every sordid detail. She felt the bile rise at the back of her throat as Publia offered her a perfect smile and moved along.

Damn her and her whore, and more to the point damn her own useless husband. Julia positively fumed with rage as she called out to the Centurionis to continue the drills until every woman in the legion could do it in her sleep. Heading back to her mount and getting up on it’s back, snarling to the woman holding it’s reins as she kicked her heels at it’s side.

She arrived back at her lodgings in quite a fury, leaving the winded animal to one of the guards posted outside and striding inside finding her husband lounging on one of the couches. He looked surprised to see her and got up with a faint smile on his face as he approached her to offer a greeting.

He really doesn’t understand what a mess he’s made, Julia thought but the rage came surging again and as soon as Metellus came into reach she lashed out, landing the back of her hand on his cheek and sending him sprawling to the floor.

Standing above him, snarling like a demon as he tried to get up.

”You utter fucking idiot! Have you no idea what a mess you’ve made? Not only are you unable to carry out even the simplest tasks, you have to blabber about it to each and sundry. Juno’s dripping cunt, I am of a mind to give you a thorough thrashing for that.”

She stared coldly as Metellus tried a pitiful excuse, her fists raised.

 

[magbeam]

Metellus Vestinius

Metellus resigned himself to opening his lips, letting Julia force her tongue inside, overpowering his own as he leaned back, letting her open his palla, breathing deeply under the guise of arousal but in reality from the nervous tension of forcing himself not to cover his body up with his hands as Julia stepped back, quickly disrobing herself.

Yes, this was quite nervewracking, he had to think, as his eyes went up and down Julia's lean, muscled body, the first time he had seen her - or any woman, for that matter - nude without being obscured by curtains or darkness or sheets. Her body was...well, even more intimidating when it wasn't hidden. She was very pretty, but undeniably tough, the signs of a life spent marching and fighting and training to do both obvious. It matched her personality well - and that was not so reassuring to Metellus at this time.

No, he was just satisfied, as satisfied as he could be, that she had not only not spurned his advances, but had taken them on, happy that he had made them. He might not like many of the things she would make him do, but at least she was in charge. Metellus was sure he had no idea what to do of his own initiative that would be remotely sexual, let alone please her; if she wanted to tell him what to do, at least it removed one thing he needed to worry over.

Metellus took a deep, shuddering breath as Julia lay down, spreading her legs and urging him in to perform the same duty that he had failed so many times before. He took another deep breath as he moved closer, inhaling the scent of his wife's privies. No, he couldn't think about past failures. Just concentrate on what Licinius told you. Everything will go right if you just follow what Liciunius told you...

Forgetting everything he had ever done in this area before, he concentrated on Licinius's instructions, as if he were doing problems for a tutor, which was a rather apt comparison. Starting with a broad, rough stroke from bottom to top, he felt rather than tasted Julia's womanhood. However, of course that was not to last as his tongue worked around her lips, and the rank taste of female essence soon filled his mouth, almost making Metellus gag. To do so would be disastrous, so again he forced himself to ignore it, relegate it to the back on his mind. It was for the greater good. If tasting her sticky mess was what saved him from being whipped and locked in his room for a year by Mother...

Now was the time where he saw whether or not Licinius had really been telling the truth about his fantastic claim.

Ignoring the plump lips of his wife's privies, Metellus ran his tongue up further, to the apex of the flower and, appropriately enough, found a little bud there. Running the tip of his tongue over it, Metellus started at the instant reaction it had, with Julia groaning and writhing beneath him. His instincts kicked in and he pulled away, only to be trapped by his wife's strong thighs, clamped down and holding him there, smothering him with that smell as he licked, licked, licked like Licinius said...

Innocent as he was Metellus could guess that Julia had just climaxed, as she relaxed, her foot massaging his back slowly. It was that action more than any other that allowed his nerves to settle, imagining it was as loving as it felt, that Julia was proud and happy with him and that that would be all, that he could curl up and go to sleep as she gently stroked him like his little orange kitten...

Suddenly he was on his back, and Julia was on top of him over his mentula, and her hand was on it and by Jove's Thunder no...

Metellus whimpered as he was suddenly forced into his wife, her privies clamping hard around him, the sensation not entirely terrifying on a physical aspect, no, but he could not get the thought out of his mind that he was inside Julia, that the most private and intimate and masculine element was now completely surrounded by his wife's body, was being compressed and almost eaten by it. It was humiliating no matter how good it might feel, having the one thing that made him a man be symbolically absorbed by - utterly submitting to - his wife's anatomy. Tears formed on the side of his eyes, tears that had nothing to do with the frenzied clawing at his chest that Julia was now engaged in. Her hips moved up and down, and Metellus whimpered again as he felt her womanly bits contract hard around him as she loudly climaxed, holding his member tight - a hostage to her lusts, even more humiliation.

Metellus was panting and sweating as well, although in a way that had little to do with sexual pleasure, as Julia lay on top of him, before rolling off and kissing his forehead in what was probably the most loving, gentle action she had ever done. Despite his state, Metellus had to smile at her words.

"Thank you, Julia, I enjoyed it as well. I can't wait to do it again," he lied, turning around to face her. "Does that mean-"

He stopped as he saw that she was already asleep. Disappointed at the lack of any sort of talk, social connection, anything - he had just lost his virginity, after all; and his chest was sore and mouth fouled - but he forced himself to think of the positives. Hopefully she would no longer want to divorce him. And then he thought about what Licinius had told him.

Even if she did, now that they had consummated their marriage, it would be that much harder.

He allowed himself a tiny smirk of victory at that.

*****

When Metellus awoke, to no great surprise, Julia was gone. He rolled over onto his back, sighing as he stretched. That was fine with him. Now that he had seen that even good sex would not mean any more opportunities for talking or closeness, he was in no mood to go through with it any more than necessary. He lounged in bed for several minutes, before standing and calling for Omdorix and his other bodyslaves to tend to him.

Once he was properly washed and dressed, Metellus sat down primly on a couch, waiting for his breakfast of fruits and bread to be brought out. No sooner had the Gaul assured him it would be there momentarily, Julia practically stormed in, her face flushed. Perhaps it was the loneliness of being away from him after his usefulness had been shown? Metellus dared to hope. Or maybe she just wanted more servicing. Either way, it would not do to show less than totally devout greetings.

Smiling, he started to rise. "Hello love, I-aaagh!"

Metellus cried out as Julia's hand connected with his face, knocking him to the floor. Already he could taste blood in his mouth; raising a dainty hand to his face, he could feel his split lip growing puffy. Crying openly, he fell onto the floor, arms protectively over his face as Julia raised her fists, preparing for an even harsher beating and promising worse to come.

"No, Julia, please, I didn't mean...I didn't know that he would spread it around. Licinius...He was so nice, I thought he was my friend, I didn't know that he would spread the rumors...I just wanted to make you happy, Julia, he knew how to do it, he taught me it, you liked it last night, didn't you? I just didn't want to make you angry. Yes, yes it's all my fault, I'm a stupid bull, I'm an idiot and addled, please don't divorce me, Julia, please, anything but that," he sobbed, his tears renewing when he considered what could happen, wanting anything - physical pain, mental humiliation - over it.

"Punish me, beat me, hurt me, the Gods know I deserve it, just please, I beg of you Julia, just please don't send me away...I'll learn, I promise, I'll be a good husband, please. I'm sorry. Oh, Jove, I'm so sorry..."

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Julia Quintilia Vestinia

"Get up!"

The command spoken harshly as she looked with barely contained disgust at her husband still kneeling on the floor. Of course men were weaker, their constitution unsuited for anything more taxing than domestic work and as for the intellectual properties. Juno and Minerva! It was rare an occurence when a man could read a philosophical treatise never mind understand one.

Metellus was still on his knees which prompted Julia to reach down, grabbing him by his stola and hoisted him to his feet. The look he was giving her was one of absoulute misery but she'd be damned if she succumed to that now. The boy had already made her a laughing stock of the staff officers of the XIV Legion, and it just didn't hold to have him lounging about. Besides the invasion of Britain was only days away and it was better to have him carted home and the relative safety there.

The separation would be a good thing, Julia thought. First of all it would mean that he would have to fend for himself and perhaps learn how to run a household. Secondly, and more importantly, it would show him what kind of life the husband of a legate had to lead. And if nothing else, the time spent apart could either strenghten his resolve to grow into a dutiful husband, or else prepare him for a life without her.

Julia looked closely at him as she sat down on the couch, waving away the servant carrying a cup of wine. "I shall write to my mother that you are going back to Rome. You will stay with her for the duration and a word of advise." Julia lowered her voice as was her habit whenever something serious needed to be said. "My mother is less forgiving than I am so I strongly urge you to reform your ways is that clear? Good now make sure that you pack your little things and I will see you this evening."

She stood up and refused the kiss that she usually allowed him to bestow on her. Turning sharply and walking back out where the captain of the guard was holding the reins of her horse.

One less problem to worry about. Metellus had never been suited for the life that Julia was leading and it would be better for all involved parties if he could lounge around in Rome rather than be stranded in this Godsforsaken nook of the Empire.

The thought of Julia Prima's stern views would also mean that the boy would be put into his rightful place. With a little luck he might even become a proper husband, suited for a Senatrix and...

No better keep the fantasies at bay for now. It all hinged on the little matter of beating the Britons with the limited resources that the half-wit Claudia had put to their disposal.

On paper it all looked well, they were being reinforced with elements of the II Legion, but that consisted mostly of elderly veterans, and a number of them had been implicated in the rebellion.

It wouldn't be an easy victory, but the glory when it was won. As long as it was left for the professionals to handle it then Britain would be a province of the Empire and the legate of the XIV Legion would be there to reap the rewards that came with it.

She touched her heels to the side of her mount, driving the beast on to the beach where the legionnaires were going through the excercise yet again. Scrambling down the sides of the ships and taking up positions on the sand. Even though Julia ached to punch her Senior Tribuna squarely in the mouth, the woman did have a flair for the outright devious.

As the women of the I Century of the XIV got onto the beach and took up position they were greeted by a shower of javelins. Thoughtfull as always, Publia had ordered that only practice once were to be used, but the blunt edges could still incapacitate a legionaire.

"For the love of Jove!"

The Centurionis shouted as she and her optionis closed the ranks and raised their shields as the next volley of javelins rained down on them. The III Century landing and running to take up position next to the assailed I.

"That'll teach 'em!" Publia whipped of a salute as she smirked at the women on the beach. "Think they can just stroll onto the beaches of Britain and expect the natives to surrender to them, eh?"

Julia didn't reply, the merest nod of her head was all she reserved for her second in command.

 

[magbeam]

Metellus Vestinius

Metellus did not even register Julia's command to rise; or rather, he heard it, but was so paralyzed, so frozen with terror, that he felt to relax any amount of control, even that of his legs to merely stand, would smash his entire hold on his emotions and reduce him even further than the pitiful state he was already in.

He whimpered wordlessly as his wife's strong fingers dug into his tunica, drawing him to stand just as he was left, hands clasped tightly to his front, eyes turned firmly down, forever at the ground that Metellus increasingly felt a part of. He remained in that position as Julia sat down on her couch, knowing somehow that she would not take kindly to him trying to sit near her. Or did she expect him to follow? No, confused as he always was towards the right path to take - the path she wanted - Metellus was reasonably confidant that his wife wanted as little to do with him at the present as possibly.

A supposition that was born out by her next words. Metellus felt his face grow even paler than his sunless ivory standard. Julia Prima? He felt a shudder run through his thin body. He had met the old battle-axe only once, at the wedding. That was quite enough. A woman who had molded Julia into who she was today. Metellus shuddered again. A woman who, it was rumored, took greatly pleasure in instilling obedience through the whip.

"So you will not divorce me, then?" Metellus asked quietly. "Thank you, Julia." the words were sincere. And why not? He might get a beating from Julia Prima, but had expected one from Julia Minor, so it balance out. He had already learned that life with the Army was not the excitement he had hoped it would be, far from it, and if missing the dangerous fighting was the price he had to pay for returning to Rome - where, prisoner of his mother-in-law he might be, he would at least be at the center of civilization and all its pamperings that a gentlewoman's husband needed, well...There were far worse alternatives. Like divorce.

"I'll listen to Mother, Julia. I'll reform, I promise. I'll be a good boy. And when you do call for me again I'll be so changed..."

Metellus frowned as his kiss was angrily pushed away, managing to hold back his tears until after Julia had left. Stupid, stupid bull. That's what I am. he castigated himself as he returned to his quarters, calling on two of the slaves who had just witnessed his degradation to help him pack. No doubt the entire staff would know the story by nightfall, but bringing these two who had already seen everything made him at least feel better.

I deserve it, Metellus thought to himself, over and over. He was so stupid. Sniffling, he drew his hand up, wiping the two trails of dewey tears from his rouged cheeks. Why couldn't he do anything right?

* * * * *

Later that night, across the camp, in an officer's quarters only slightly smaller but somewhat more lavishly adorned, two bodies, panting and sweaty and smelling of coitus, collapsed onto their backs among the tangled sheets of Serican silk, having finally spent themselves. The woman traced idle figures on her partner's smooth chest.

"I really must thank you, my love," Senior Tribuna Saturnina Aurelia Publia moaned throatily to her husband, her voice the deep purr of a sybarite who has finally reached her saturation point of pleasure for the day.

"And why is that, my sweet asp?" Her husband, Licinius Aurelius, answered, his voice thick with the oral smile of one who knew that he had caused his lover's tone of voice.

"Why, for telling me of our Legata's marital issues, of course, and for being such a darling about seeing to it." She rolled over onto her stomach, peering up at him through her lashes, languidly suckling on the very tip of one of his fingers. His reply followed a deep chuckle of appreciation at the joke and loving gesture both.

"It was no problem, Saturnina, no problem at all. A general is no general who is distracted by her personal life. It was my patriotic duty to the Empire to see that this campaign did not fail just because its commander was too busy fantasizing about her tight little cunt getting plowed properly than with spears or war elephants or whatever fantastically Homeric surprises our Imperatrix has in mind for the Britanni."

"Oh, Licinius, you say the sweetest things some time." Saturnina moved up for a kiss, one that was broken as Licinius broke into another chuckle.

"I hope my technique hasn't deteriorated so rapidly in such a short span of time," Saturnina pouted.

"Not at all, wife of mine, and well you know it. I was just struck by an arrow of thought."

"And that would be?" Saturnina moved down to run her tongue over a nipple as Licinius grinned again.

"I was just wondering when Vestinia will be sending me a proper thanks for my help."

The couple broke into happy laughter at that.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Julia Quintilia Vestinia

Britain did not agree with Legata Vestinia.

The weather was as treacherous as the inhabitants of this Godsforsaken island, the rains had been almost constant since the Roman invasion army had landed on the beaches of this Terra incognita, and in the short moments that a feeble sun shone, it was usually shrouded in clouds.

Daughters of Dis!

THe natives had not made the invasion any easier. From Caesaria's accounts, the Britons were savages who relied on outdated methods of waging war, and went into battle clad only in loincloths. That had proved to be true even now, but there were however some inaccurcies to Caesaria's observations. True enough some of the more backward tribes were ruled by men, even though the vast majority was not. That was not something that did Julia's tasks any easier. She had faced male warriors before, the tribes of the less developed Germanii did in fact field male warriors against the Roman legions. And as any woman of knew, men did not make for good soldiers. It was not their fault, just the fact that a man was an unfinished woman.

The words of Aristotaela, of course. Just another of all the philosophers that Greece had produced, but one which actually made some sense. Still most of them had been too busy having their ways with young girls rather than put in an honest day's work. Philosophy was all very well, but what really mattered was the might of the sword.

Right now the balance did not speak to Rome's advantage. The Britons had been more stubborn than expected. Under the leadership of a certain Caracata, a warlady from one of the northern tribes, the unruly masses of the Britons had managed to inflict some considerate damages to the invasion army.

Julia gritted her teeth as she put down her stylus. And that bloody Publia had of course made even more of a name for herself. Leading a relief column to aide the the IV Legion The Augusta, she had managed to more or less obliterate a British army.

There was no fairness in the world. None what so ever.

 

[magbeam]

Saturnina Aurelia Publia

Senior Tribune Saturnina Aurelia Publia smiled as she looked out across the fly-blacked marshes on the bank of the River Tamesis. General Aula Plautia had dispatched the XIV Legion here in an attempt to obliterate the armies of Caracata, who were preventing the crossing for this strategic river that seemed to bifurcate this...peninsula? Island? Even the most learned of Greek underlings seemed to still be divided on the true nature of Britannia. But whatever it was, island or peninsula or gateway to Atlantis itself, the Tamesis was vital to hold if Roman control was to expand beyond the piddling southern coastal regions, and even if she hadn't been defeated, then Caracata had at least had her nose bloodied with the efflux of her own women.

Hopefully the goddesses of the Britannic underworld would tell her who had sent her army to such inglorious and festering deaths: Saturnina Publia of the XIV Legion. Her troops had declared her a triumphatrix for her daring rescue of the IV when the quaint but omnipresent Britannic war-chariots had cut off their flank, and she had even been awarded regalia for her actions. No doubt Claudia would appropriate them for her own political purposes - it wouldn't do to commit to the first conquests since the Augustan Peace in order to shore up support from the Senate, just to have the first triumph go to a tribune - but Saturnina could dream. At the least, a place close to the Imperatrix in her procession would be called for. That, she actually stood a chance at.

Saturnina turned back from the scenes of the carnage, heading back to her cohort command. One that she might not be holding for long, the way things were going. Promotion came fast for popular and capable officers in the Roman army, especially in wartime - and during a war that was proving more costly in soldiers' lives than the imperatrix had originally foreseen and planned for. Perhaps a legateship of her own in the near future would not be so farfetched.

She passed a number of Britannic prisoners-of-war, the woad still caking their breasts. They were being lined up, to be sold off as slaves that would hopefully cover part of the cost, at least initially, of subduing a new province. Saturnina sighed wistfully, then did so again. The first was for the fact that the province still was not pacified enough to allow for the families to be brought over from Gaul, and she missed her Licinius terrible, especially in the cold, damp Britannic nights. Her nights still might be damp with him, but at least they would be warm.

The second was for the fact that, yet again, salacious rumors of barbarian activities had been proven false - this time, the alleged role of men in Britannic society. If they truly were as widespread as first hinted, than Saturnina at least would be consoled by a few tasty captives until Licinius arrived. She had always enjoyed foreign meat, especially when it was still raw and untamed. However, it looked like, if she wanted anything, she would need to make do with the woad-stained savage Britanni women. No doubt it would help pass a night. But as a substitute for their male countrymen, and especially her husband? Not within a hundred leagues.

There was no fairness in the world. None what so ever.