Faustina and the Barbarians Read Free

hand and massaged her breasts, all while the boys watched. I couldn’t understand why they hadn’t fucked her previously, she was extremely pretty and inspiringly uninhibited. Soon I noticed my cocks were in full bloom, for I was naked too, and the oil was spilling over my rhythmically working breasts and down my thighs. I felt a cock entering me from the back already but jerked aside, and after working Brunhild’s arse and thighs and breasts until they gleamed like the very skin of the Sun, I steered one stiffly elongated prick into her arsehole and the other, from the other side, into her copiously moistened young cunnus. I then left the boys to pump away while I went for a horse crop. It was a beautiful day. Returning, I set to whipping the boys’ sweating muscle-rippling buttocks to greater efforts, though Brunhild was near screaming with ecstasy already, a little too loudly. I closed her mouth with mine and.... It’s from this occasion that my odd forays into Lesbia’s territory begin.  
    As I sucked at those ripe lips, Roderic came, and then, shortly after, Ricimer. But I hadn’t heard the final ecstasy break from Brunhild. The boys fell back on the grass. I untied her and pushing her down between them pushed apart her sweat-soaked thighs and thrust my tongue into her tenderised cunnus. I’d never suspected I had a hidden talent for cunnilingus, Flavia. The boys evinced not a little jealousy as I made Brunhild groan, plead, beg, and rave for mercy. I bade them pin her arms and tongued her some more. Then I lay inverted upon her, exposing my quim to her mouth, and ordered her to tongue me, which she did with alacrity, despite her near faintingness. And, thus, tongues in   each other's cunnus, we both came together, rattling like two furious turtles in the same shell.
    But, my dear Flavia, I must rush to close this letter, for I hear a slave calling me with some urgency.
    Our happiness in that sun-kissed grove was short lived. Somehow Athalaric’s alliance with Flaccus was discovered, though our Brunhild was not the whistleblower. In a savage flash of revolt, Athalaric was executed. Roderic and Ricimer managed to flee, and I, now legitimate war booty, was brought bound hand and foot before the new Chief, a horrible, pox-faced runt of a Goth with rotten teeth. And worse, he was Christian.
    I was given a choice before this halitosis-soaked tribunal. I could either be given a head start before being hunted down by the Chief and his men or handed over to his elite personal bodyguard. The word ‘bodyguard’ immediately aroused my interest.
    “Pusillanimous wretch!” I rose to my full height, stretching my bonds with out-thrust breasts.
    “You dare address a descendent of the Emperor Maximian without kneeling? On your knees, vassal.”
    This unexpected reprimand took the grin off the wretch’s face in an instant.
    “Faustina Maxima laughs at your threats, pig. Do you think the might of Eternal Rome rests only in Her armies? Bring on your ‘bodyguards’, as many as have the spunk to confront me, and I shall show you what one Roman woman can do.” You could’ve heard a hairpin drop in that tent, let me tell you. I can’t say I felt as fearless as I spoke, but I certainly wasn’t about to be hunted through the woods like a slave or a dog. How could I explain it at my next cocktail party?
    The Chief was obviously afraid of losing face in front of his new retainers and, ruffling up his wrinkles like an old rooster, addressed me,  
    “If you are still standing and breathing after one hour with my men I will consider letting you live… as my slave, Roman whore.”
    “I spit on your mercy, cur. Enough. Bring on your men.”
    The tent was cleared and eight of the tallest, most muscled, most gorgeous specimens of Gothic manhood filed in, stark naked. I looked each in the eyes. One or two might cause me some difficulty, but they were all men, and, being men, already intimidated by Faustina Maxima.  
    “Let the