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Veroe's idea box

IC: Marcus Leander

Marcus Leander Straightened his dress uniform. The two new medals gleaned in the sundrenched light from the villa's portico. They were heavy weights as well on his chest. The Imperial Eagle, given only to those in the legions that displayed exceptional courage beyond the norm for those called to serve the glory of the Reisan Empire. The other the crossed heart given those that had been wounded in that same service to Empire and Emperor.

The leg was coming along, he could walk without the crutches or cane now-if with a pronounced limp. The medicus said it too would fade in a few weeks. The ribs were healing a little faster. Though slipping the sleeves of the uniform's jacket over his arms and shoulders lit his sides with a fire that almost brought him to his knees.

Ahead one the General's house slaves was vacuuming. She stopped and bowed her head as he passed like Marcus was someone important. He was an orphan from a farming province who joined the legions as soon as he was old enough-anything to leave that armpit of nobodyness. He had served even been selected to go to the Imperial war-college. There he met the house slave's master, and the one man he respected most in the world.

He opened the door to the villa's balcony. From it he could see the skyline of Reise the Imperial city. The high skyscrapers, the tall belltowers of the temples in the city even the Imperial Colliseum in the distance. They were supposed to be holding gladiatorial games celebrating their victory in the conquest of the Dharizan barbrians adding yet another land and slaves for the bloated Empire. Above the arena Marcus could see the goodAnnos blimp circling over it for the television audience.

He hoped those Dharisian bastards suffer before the gladiators finish them off.

"Ah Marcus," The voice came from the corner of the room. He turned to see the General, Gaius Antony Cicero, behind his desk piled high with papers and files from the master of the house being away from it for months. He shut down the computer and turned the wheelchair he was confined to for the rest of his life and rolled it out towards him. Marcus limped forward to meet him halfway in the middle of the room. So the general wouldn't have to push himself that far,

"I have something to tell you," He said looking up at Marcus, "But let us talk of it out on the balcony."

Marcus nodded and limped behind him pushing the wheelchair out through the open glass doors into the bright autumn sun. Below one the general's house slaves was cleaning the villa's pool another was tending the gardens riding one of those zero-point turning lawnmowers. In the far distance he could see a car, a sleek and fast and mean and expensive-looking black Gladius Guiardo coming up along the road that wrapped around the Villa's grounds.

"Expecting company, sir," He asked gesturing to the oncoming sportscar.

"I invited a special someone to come," The general nodded, "I haven't seen her in so long. I need to see her to..." He trailed off looking up at him.

"Marcus," The General said, "I'm going to tell you this as straight as I can. You know I never married? And so I have no sons?"

Marcus nodded in answer curious as to where he was going.

"The medicus said I will be in this wheelchair until the day I die," He stated, "Shrapnel from that RPG in Dharisan...some of it hit me low in the back...that grenade would've killed me if you hadn't shielded me..."

"Sir, you don't have to thank me," Marcus shook his head, "I only did what my duty to you and to the Empire needed me to."

"...I can't feel anything below my waist," Gaius told him he looked down at himself, "Nothing, not my feet, not my legs, nothing...I need someone to help me just to take a shit or a piss. And I will never have a son. The name of Cicero ends with me. I can not allow that."

"You can adopt a son," He put in.

"Yes, I can," He nodded looking up at Marcus expectantly, "But I do not wish to raise a child. I would be a poor father."

"Don't say that, sir," Marcus said feelingly, "I never had a father, but if I had one..."

"Marcus, I want to name you as my heir."

Marcus took a moment looking down at the man he had always seen as the father the gods had never blessed him to have. "It would be an honor sir, but surely you should look for someone more worthy than me to bear the name of Cicero."

From beyond the doors they heard someone walking down the hall to the door. What was that? Metal against the marble floors.

"Think it over Marcus, I understand its a big step and you'll need time," Gaius said turning the wheelchair to face the door, "But now there's someone I want you to meet. Someone very special."

Marcus heard the sound of the metal footsteps stop just beyond the door. The doorknob turns and the door opens. One of the houseslaves his head and eyes downcast is at the door but behind him stood a figure, a woman...she was wearing an old style black cloak that ran the length of her body from her shoulders down to just above her ankles hiding any appraisal of her figure. He could see the reason why her footsteps had sounded so metallic. She was wearing leather boots with high heels, solid metal ones that ended at a sharp looking point. But that wasn't the most eye catching thing the woman in the door way wore. It was a mask covering her whole face black with gold filigree aroind the lips and eyeholes.

Marcus had heard of her, or at least what she was. Descriptions and ribald stories of what she was and did were passed between randy legionnaires many times, but honestly Marcus thought what she was had gone all but extinct.

This masked woman was a priestess of Belerephus, twin sibling of Belerephina, the goddess of love, but the brother Belerephus was the dark and twisted evil patron of that. He was god of lust and pleasure, need, obsession, and pain, all the darker passions.

She stepped inside looking at Gaius but not saying a word. The houseslave carried a heavy black bag inside the room then shut the door behind her. She stood there watching Gaius without saying anything.

"Domina," Gaius said lifting himself from the wheel chair to fall onto the floor.

"Sir," Marcus exclaimed bending down to help him. He glanced at the woman noting with some anger that she made no move or reaction to a man falling out of a wheelchair. But then she lifted one boot and placed it forward. The cloak pulled up to her shin.

Gaius tried to drag himself over to her and pushing Marcus away, "Help me over to her. I have to kiss my Domina's boot."

"What," He asked looking up to the priestess who still stood there watching Gaius expectantly. She wasn't going to lift a single finger to help the general one bit.

Ignoring the surge of agony from his leg and ribs Marcus did as Gaius had asked dragging the old soldier over to the woman.

Gaius finally placed his lips on the toe of her boot. It wasn't a quick peck either lasting several beats before the woman slipped her boot away from him.

Gaius started babbling then, "Forgive me Domina. Forgive me for disobeying your last order to me. I came back to you from war, but I did not come back whole and healthy."

Marcus rose up to look the woman in the eyes. She had stark blue eyes that he would have said were pretty if he wasn't so upset at her. She was looking at him rather than at Gaius.

This was all too much to take in. Gaius' offer to name him his son...the general...a Belerephite...a worshipper of the dark god...this woman who forced a parapalegic to drag himself across the room just to kiss her boot.

Marcus glared at the masked woman-not the safest thing to do if the reputations of Priestesses of Belerephus had any truth to them, but he didn't care. How could she have been so cruel.

"Well say something,"

-------------------------------X

This would be the first post in a thread idea I had today which involves heavy bdsm in a alternate earth where an empire very similar to the Roman empire is placed in the twentyfirst century. There's still plenty of development that needs to be done to it, but I'd need a lady willing to play a switch here, though not submissive often and comfortable doing some worldbuilding in terms of what it means to be a high priestess of Belerephus: like any religion it has rituals and traditions, holidays and practices she'd have to come up with-all with a kinky slant to them.
 
Veroe said:
IC: Marcus Leander

Marcus Leander Straightened his dress uniform. The two new medals gleaned in the sundrenched light from the villa's portico. They were heavy weights as well on his chest. The Imperial Eagle, given only to those in the legions that displayed exceptional courage beyond the norm for those called to serve the glory of the Reisan Empire. The other the crossed heart given those that had been wounded in that same service to Empire and Emperor.

The leg was coming along, he could walk without the crutches or cane now-if with a pronounced limp. The medicus said it too would fade in a few weeks. The ribs were healing a little faster. Though slipping the sleeves of the uniform's jacket over his arms and shoulders lit his sides with a fire that almost brought him to his knees.

Ahead one the General's house slaves was vacuuming. She stopped and bowed her head as he passed like Marcus was someone important. He was an orphan from a farming province who joined the legions as soon as he was old enough-anything to leave that armpit of nobodyness. He had served even been selected to go to the Imperial war-college. There he met the house slave's master, and the one man he respected most in the world.

He opened the door to the villa's balcony. From it he could see the skyline of Reise the Imperial city. The high skyscrapers, the tall belltowers of the temples in the city even the Imperial Colliseum in the distance. They were supposed to be holding gladiatorial games celebrating their victory in the conquest of the Dharizan barbrians adding yet another land and slaves for the bloated Empire. Above the arena Marcus could see the goodAnnos blimp circling over it for the television audience.

He hoped those Dharisian bastards suffer before the gladiators finish them off.

"Ah Marcus," The voice came from the corner of the room. He turned to see the General, Gaius Antony Cicero, behind his desk piled high with papers and files from the master of the house being away from it for months. He shut down the computer and turned the wheelchair he was confined to for the rest of his life and rolled it out towards him. Marcus limped forward to meet him halfway in the middle of the room. So the general wouldn't have to push himself that far,

"I have something to tell you," He said looking up at Marcus, "But let us talk of it out on the balcony."

Marcus nodded and limped behind him pushing the wheelchair out through the open glass doors into the bright autumn sun. Below one the general's house slaves was cleaning the villa's pool another was tending the gardens riding one of those zero-point turning lawnmowers. In the far distance he could see a car, a sleek and fast and mean and expensive-looking black Gladius Guiardo coming up along the road that wrapped around the Villa's grounds.

"Expecting company, sir," He asked gesturing to the oncoming sportscar.

"I invited a special someone to come," The general nodded, "I haven't seen her in so long. I need to see her to..." He trailed off looking up at him.

"Marcus," The General said, "I'm going to tell you this as straight as I can. You know I never married? And so I have no sons?"

Marcus nodded in answer curious as to where he was going.

"The medicus said I will be in this wheelchair until the day I die," He stated, "Shrapnel from that RPG in Dharisan...some of it hit me low in the back...that grenade would've killed me if you hadn't shielded me..."

"Sir, you don't have to thank me," Marcus shook his head, "I only did what my duty to you and to the Empire needed me to."

"...I can't feel anything below my waist," Gaius told him he looked down at himself, "Nothing, not my feet, not my legs, nothing...I need someone to help me just to take a shit or a piss. And I will never have a son. The name of Cicero ends with me. I can not allow that."

"You can adopt a son," He put in.

"Yes, I can," He nodded looking up at Marcus expectantly, "But I do not wish to raise a child. I would be a poor father."

"Don't say that, sir," Marcus said feelingly, "I never had a father, but if I had one..."

"Marcus, I want to name you as my heir."

Marcus took a moment looking down at the man he had always seen as the father the gods had never blessed him to have. "It would be an honor sir, but surely you should look for someone more worthy than me to bear the name of Cicero."

From beyond the doors they heard someone walking down the hall to the door. What was that? Metal against the marble floors.

"Think it over Marcus, I understand its a big step and you'll need time," Gaius said turning the wheelchair to face the door, "But now there's someone I want you to meet. Someone very special."

Marcus heard the sound of the metal footsteps stop just beyond the door. The doorknob turns and the door opens. One of the houseslaves his head and eyes downcast is at the door but behind him stood a figure, a woman...she was wearing an old style black cloak that ran the length of her body from her shoulders down to just above her ankles hiding any appraisal of her figure. He could see the reason why her footsteps had sounded so metallic. She was wearing leather boots with high heels, solid metal ones that ended at a sharp looking point. But that wasn't the most eye catching thing the woman in the door way wore. It was a mask covering her whole face black with gold filigree aroind the lips and eyeholes.

Marcus had heard of her, or at least what she was. Descriptions and ribald stories of what she was and did were passed between randy legionnaires many times, but honestly Marcus thought what she was had gone all but extinct.

This masked woman was a priestess of Belerephus, twin sibling of Belerephina, the goddess of love, but the brother Belerephus was the dark and twisted evil patron of that. He was god of lust and pleasure, need, obsession, and pain, all the darker passions.

She stepped inside looking at Gaius but not saying a word. The houseslave carried a heavy black bag inside the room then shut the door behind her. She stood there watching Gaius without saying anything.

"Domina," Gaius said lifting himself from the wheel chair to fall onto the floor.

"Sir," Marcus exclaimed bending down to help him. He glanced at the woman noting with some anger that she made no move or reaction to a man falling out of a wheelchair. But then she lifted one boot and placed it forward. The cloak pulled up to her shin.

Gaius tried to drag himself over to her and pushing Marcus away, "Help me over to her. I have to kiss my Domina's boot."

"What," He asked looking up to the priestess who still stood there watching Gaius expectantly. She wasn't going to lift a single finger to help the general one bit.

Ignoring the surge of agony from his leg and ribs Marcus did as Gaius had asked dragging the old soldier over to the woman.

Gaius finally placed his lips on the toe of her boot. It wasn't a quick peck either lasting several beats before the woman slipped her boot away from him.

Gaius started babbling then, "Forgive me Domina. Forgive me for disobeying your last order to me. I came back to you from war, but I did not come back whole and healthy."

Marcus rose up to look the woman in the eyes. She had stark blue eyes that he would have said were pretty if he wasn't so upset at her. She was looking at him rather than at Gaius.

This was all too much to take in. Gaius' offer to name him his son...the general...a Belerephite...a worshipper of the dark god...this woman who forced a parapalegic to drag himself across the room just to kiss her boot.

Marcus glared at the masked woman-not the safest thing to do if the reputations of Priestesses of Belerephus had any truth to them, but he didn't care. How could she have been so cruel.

"Well say something,"

-------------------------------X

This would be the first post in a thread idea I had today which involves heavy bdsm in a alternate earth where an empire very similar to the Roman empire is placed in the twentyfirst century. There's still plenty of development that needs to be done to it, but I'd need a lady willing to play a switch here, though not submissive often and comfortable doing some worldbuilding in terms of what it means to be a high priestess of Belerephus: like any religion it has rituals and traditions, holidays and practices she'd have to come up with-all with a kinky slant to them.
Click to expand...

This is wonderful idea Veroe :D:rose:

But what about LP ?

I am waiting for you to post...so that I can get to Inferno lol.

Soon please... I hath itchy fingers???!!
 
Last edited:
Veroe said:
IC: Marcus Leander

Marcus Leander Straightened his dress uniform. The two new medals gleaned in the sundrenched light from the villa's portico. They were heavy weights as well on his chest. The Imperial Eagle, given only to those in the legions that displayed exceptional courage beyond the norm for those called to serve the glory of the Reisan Empire. The other the crossed heart given those that had been wounded in that same service to Empire and Emperor.

The leg was coming along, he could walk without the crutches or cane now-if with a pronounced limp. The medicus said it too would fade in a few weeks. The ribs were healing a little faster. Though slipping the sleeves of the uniform's jacket over his arms and shoulders lit his sides with a fire that almost brought him to his knees.

Ahead one the General's house slaves was vacuuming. She stopped and bowed her head as he passed like Marcus was someone important. He was an orphan from a farming province who joined the legions as soon as he was old enough-anything to leave that armpit of nobodyness. He had served even been selected to go to the Imperial war-college. There he met the house slave's master, and the one man he respected most in the world.

He opened the door to the villa's balcony. From it he could see the skyline of Reise the Imperial city. The high skyscrapers, the tall belltowers of the temples in the city even the Imperial Colliseum in the distance. They were supposed to be holding gladiatorial games celebrating their victory in the conquest of the Dharizan barbrians adding yet another land and slaves for the bloated Empire. Above the arena Marcus could see the goodAnnos blimp circling over it for the television audience.

He hoped those Dharisian bastards suffer before the gladiators finish them off.

"Ah Marcus," The voice came from the corner of the room. He turned to see the General, Gaius Antony Cicero, behind his desk piled high with papers and files from the master of the house being away from it for months. He shut down the computer and turned the wheelchair he was confined to for the rest of his life and rolled it out towards him. Marcus limped forward to meet him halfway in the middle of the room. So the general wouldn't have to push himself that far,

"I have something to tell you," He said looking up at Marcus, "But let us talk of it out on the balcony."

Marcus nodded and limped behind him pushing the wheelchair out through the open glass doors into the bright autumn sun. Below one the general's house slaves was cleaning the villa's pool another was tending the gardens riding one of those zero-point turning lawnmowers. In the far distance he could see a car, a sleek and fast and mean and expensive-looking black Gladius Guiardo coming up along the road that wrapped around the Villa's grounds.

"Expecting company, sir," He asked gesturing to the oncoming sportscar.

"I invited a special someone to come," The general nodded, "I haven't seen her in so long. I need to see her to..." He trailed off looking up at him.

"Marcus," The General said, "I'm going to tell you this as straight as I can. You know I never married? And so I have no sons?"

Marcus nodded in answer curious as to where he was going.

"The medicus said I will be in this wheelchair until the day I die," He stated, "Shrapnel from that RPG in Dharisan...some of it hit me low in the back...that grenade would've killed me if you hadn't shielded me..."

"Sir, you don't have to thank me," Marcus shook his head, "I only did what my duty to you and to the Empire needed me to."

"...I can't feel anything below my waist," Gaius told him he looked down at himself, "Nothing, not my feet, not my legs, nothing...I need someone to help me just to take a shit or a piss. And I will never have a son. The name of Cicero ends with me. I can not allow that."

"You can adopt a son," He put in.

"Yes, I can," He nodded looking up at Marcus expectantly, "But I do not wish to raise a child. I would be a poor father."

"Don't say that, sir," Marcus said feelingly, "I never had a father, but if I had one..."

"Marcus, I want to name you as my heir."

Marcus took a moment looking down at the man he had always seen as the father the gods had never blessed him to have. "It would be an honor sir, but surely you should look for someone more worthy than me to bear the name of Cicero."

From beyond the doors they heard someone walking down the hall to the door. What was that? Metal against the marble floors.

"Think it over Marcus, I understand its a big step and you'll need time," Gaius said turning the wheelchair to face the door, "But now there's someone I want you to meet. Someone very special."

Marcus heard the sound of the metal footsteps stop just beyond the door. The doorknob turns and the door opens. One of the houseslaves his head and eyes downcast is at the door but behind him stood a figure, a woman...she was wearing an old style black cloak that ran the length of her body from her shoulders down to just above her ankles hiding any appraisal of her figure. He could see the reason why her footsteps had sounded so metallic. She was wearing leather boots with high heels, solid metal ones that ended at a sharp looking point. But that wasn't the most eye catching thing the woman in the door way wore. It was a mask covering her whole face black with gold filigree aroind the lips and eyeholes.

Marcus had heard of her, or at least what she was. Descriptions and ribald stories of what she was and did were passed between randy legionnaires many times, but honestly Marcus thought what she was had gone all but extinct.

This masked woman was a priestess of Belerephus, twin sibling of Belerephina, the goddess of love, but the brother Belerephus was the dark and twisted evil patron of that. He was god of lust and pleasure, need, obsession, and pain, all the darker passions.

She stepped inside looking at Gaius but not saying a word. The houseslave carried a heavy black bag inside the room then shut the door behind her. She stood there watching Gaius without saying anything.

"Domina," Gaius said lifting himself from the wheel chair to fall onto the floor.

"Sir," Marcus exclaimed bending down to help him. He glanced at the woman noting with some anger that she made no move or reaction to a man falling out of a wheelchair. But then she lifted one boot and placed it forward. The cloak pulled up to her shin.

Gaius tried to drag himself over to her and pushing Marcus away, "Help me over to her. I have to kiss my Domina's boot."

"What," He asked looking up to the priestess who still stood there watching Gaius expectantly. She wasn't going to lift a single finger to help the general one bit.

Ignoring the surge of agony from his leg and ribs Marcus did as Gaius had asked dragging the old soldier over to the woman.

Gaius finally placed his lips on the toe of her boot. It wasn't a quick peck either lasting several beats before the woman slipped her boot away from him.

Gaius started babbling then, "Forgive me Domina. Forgive me for disobeying your last order to me. I came back to you from war, but I did not come back whole and healthy."

Marcus rose up to look the woman in the eyes. She had stark blue eyes that he would have said were pretty if he wasn't so upset at her. She was looking at him rather than at Gaius.

This was all too much to take in. Gaius' offer to name him his son...the general...a Belerephite...a worshipper of the dark god...this woman who forced a parapalegic to drag himself across the room just to kiss her boot.

Marcus glared at the masked woman-not the safest thing to do if the reputations of Priestesses of Belerephus had any truth to them, but he didn't care. How could she have been so cruel.

"Well say something,"

-------------------------------X

This would be the first post in a thread idea I had today which involves heavy bdsm in a alternate earth where an empire very similar to the Roman empire is placed in the twentyfirst century. There's still plenty of development that needs to be done to it, but I'd need a lady willing to play a switch here, though not submissive often and comfortable doing some worldbuilding in terms of what it means to be a high priestess of Belerephus: like any religion it has rituals and traditions, holidays and practices she'd have to come up with-all with a kinky slant to them.
Click to expand...

Very interesting idea.
 
Wow my itty bitty idea got a lot of attention and it aint even finished yet.

I've recently discovered a new author that is compelling me with as many ideas and scenarios as my favorite erotic romance writer Joey W Hill does.

Tiffany Reisz
http://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdcosulOXV1qg5r61o1_250.jpg

After being held hostage by the first book in her original sinners novel: The Siren, Monday I grabbed the others and my brains been on overdrive with new and potent ideas from it since.

This was the first one, and I had to get out of my mind and into my idea box Asap. I'm serious the way this woman writes its enthralling. I may even put her above Mrs. Hill on the effect its having on me.

Sorry Yeishia, Asa, your responses have suffered because of the delay, I've started both and aim to finish at least one tonight.
 
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They are all downloadable which you you sugest first for me Veroe :):rose:

There is even one called the Angel:eek:
 
yeishia said:
They are all downloadable which you you sugest first for me Veroe :):rose:

There is even one called the Angel:eek:
Click to expand...

The first I think: The Siren...I'm only on the third right now: The Prince.

The angel is the second one.

They get pretty heavy into the whole S&M thing, especially the main character Nora and her master Soren. But its sooo damned good.
 
Last edited:
Veroe said:
The first I think: The Siren...I'm only on the third right now: The Prince.

The angel is the second one.
Click to expand...

* hugs you * thank you so much .I shall fill a bubble bath download and read I think xoxooxox
 
yeishia said:
* hugs you * thank you so much .I shall fill a bubble bath download and read I think xoxooxox
Click to expand...

Just a word of warning, Yeishia, the scenes in it get pretty graphic and intense, but the soul to it all, is very deep and true and compelling...it may be erotica but its by no means worthless smut.
 
Ah ha! I knew it! =D I've read the first two books.

I highly recommend reading the books in order. I don't think it will make sense otherwise. I've also read several of the short stories. They are fun and a few give insight into Nora that you don't really know even when you read the books.

The power play and love between Nora and Soren is amazing and horrifying at times. But, yah, I thought I knew where the inspiration came from! =)
 
See all, listen to Vailyn she understands how good those books are.:D
 
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