The Sole Survivor of Boudicca's Sacking of Colchester

As Macilenta passed the edge of the Forum returning from the market she overhead two nobles discussing unrest among the Iceni,  the native tribe who lived north of the area around Camulodunum.  One of them was concerned  that the peasant Queen, Boudicca,  was plotting a revolt which might jeopardize the City's food supply.

Macilenta's heart missed a beat, if Legio IX Hispana, the Ninth Legion, was recalled from Lindum Colonia she might see Quintus again.  She recalled the last time the Legion had been at the city and how she had been introduced to the handsome young Centurion by her brother's wife.  

As she continued her walk home she dreamily remembered how, when they had found themselves alone, he had fondled her breasts then tenderly moved a hand between her legs and caressed her there,  slowly entering her with his middle finger and massaging her to a climax.   The following day she had smuggled him into her room when he had again visited to say farewell to his sister and this time she had nestled her head between his thighs and brought him to an erection by gently licking his penis,  then sucked it deep into her mouth,  allowing him to grasp her head and thrust it to and fro so that he came deep into her throat.   The final part had however disliked and  had coughed up his semen out over her bed sheets.

At that evening's meal she dared to ask her father's opinion on the Iceni.  He laughed and said that since the death of their King Prasutagus the native peasants had been completely subjugated and were now totally under the control of Rome.   Turning to his son he described with relish how, when Prasutagus' wife Boudicca dared to suggest she should succeed him,  as Queen, their soldiers had flogged the clothes off her voluptuous  body until she hung naked and unconscious before her people, and how after awaking her with buckets of icy water they had publicly stripped, bound then raped her two young virgin daughters. 

Macilenta tried to hide her red face as the men at the table continued the conversation with increasingly lewd and ribald comments.   After a couple more glasses of wine her brother commanded one of the youngest slave girls serving at the table to strip and stand legs apart and arms raised while he flicked spoonfuls of red sauce at her proclaiming 'look!   Boudicca scourged!' to clapping and hoots of drunken laughter from the other men.

As Macilenta was relaxing in the  bath-house the following morning her friend Habita moved gracefully towards her.  She admired Habita's large breasts as they half floated in the warm water and briefly wondered whether Quintus preferred large breasts like her friends or her own pert smaller ones.  He had certainly commented very appreciatively on her flat belly so since then she had been trying to eat even more carefully .  Her friend started to pass on gossip about a lawyer's wife, who had dozed off and remained in the baths after noon on the previous day and had consequently been mistaken for a prostitute as the men started to be admitted after their morning's work.  She  was interrupted when they heard shouts and yells outside and the clattering of hooves.  At that time of day horses were not permitted in the central area near the Forum and the Temples so they looked at each other in puzzlement and alarm.

Hurriedly dressing Macilenta ran towards home, veteran soldiers were running to man the walls and she realized that a strange 'Ull-ull' call made by many voices could be heard in the distance along with the trumpeting of horns.  As she got to the door of her family's house it was flung open and her father and brother dashed out each carrying a short sword.  Her brother ran on but his father stopped to reassure her 'The Consul has called for all men to man the City boundary because the traitorous Iceni have marched before the gates yelling and shouting in an unruly mob.  Fear not the savages will get fed up and go home once they realize the strength of our walls and soldiers.  A courier has already been despatched to recall the Ninth Legion who will wreak terrible revenge on the scum within the week.'  He then turned to follow the armed veterans and other citizens as she entered the house. 

Even as Macilenta approached her mother and sister, who were sat hugging each other, they heard a tremendous crash in the distance and the savages‘ yells and screams became louder.  Her mother ushered both daughters upstairs for safety.  But after a few minutes Macilenta, frustrated that they had no idea what was happening because all upstairs windows faced inwards to the courtyard, disobeyed her mother and ran downstairs.  Pushing aside the anxious slaves she ran into the street.  For a few moments she saw no-one but then two women ran out of a side street screaming with arms aloft , another girl staggered after them stark naked with a large knife sticking out of the small of her back.  As she stood transfixed Macilenta saw more citizens and slaves pouring onto the streets, already a pall of smoke was rising in the distance so she assumed the walls had been set aligh.  An elder patrician shouted 'Get to the Temple of Claudius, it's built like a fortress.'  However, now doubting anything could stem the savage flood, she decided instead to try to flee the city.

Before she turned and ran she saw in the distance naked warriors painted with blue patterns slashing and stabbing at the terrified crowd.  However as she reached the potteries she realized there was more smoke and flames in the direction she was fleeing, not far ahead she saw a mother trying to run with a young child in each hand coming towards her.  Suddenly almost from nowhere a blue patterned male with a huge erect penis leapt towards them swiftly decapitating the mother as she ran.  Without waiting to see the fate of the children Macilenta turned and ran into the potteries. 

To the north-west  the sky was now darkened by clouds of billowing smoke, glowing red as it reflected the flames below.  Running to the further side of the potteries she cautiously peered into the street there.  The body of an old woman lay in a large pool of blood and she looked towards the Forum to see a group of naked women being dragged by the hair along the street away from her by three blue stained warriors, streaks of blood were left on the ground behind them and the women‘s legs appeared limp and useless, bending bloodily in unnatural places.  Flames suddenly burst from the roof of a house opposite her and hearing wild cheering she ducked back into the potteries.

She could hear yells and agonized screams from all around while flames started licking from the potters' workshops.  She ducked as more warriors ran down the street one carrying a blazing torch the other she thought carried a bloody decapitated head by the hair.  The heat from the blazing timber workshops was becoming unbearable and she knew she was unlikely to be able to get to the suggested safety of the stone Temple.  She heard sobbing close behind her and turned to see a struggling naked young woman held spread eagled against a workshop door  by two huge naked blue painted men while a third, with a rock hard erection which appeared almost the size of her forearm, prepared to nail her wrists to it.  Their terrified victim twisted and writhed trying to wrench her wrist from beneath the tip of the nail, her head thrown back with her mouth wide open in a continuous hoarse scream.  As the nail pierced her delicate wrist her bright red blood splashed over blue woad painted chest of the warrior.  Macilenta couldn't believe that the savages,  no more than twenty feet away, hadn't seen her and holding her breath she slowly tried to slide silently away praying they wouldn't look towards the dazzling flames.

As she felt the heat burning her shoulders through her tunic she reasoned that if the kilns kept heat in they might also keep out heat, as well as provide a possible hiding place, though with no possible escape if found.  She quickly dropped to her knees and crawled towards the firing tunnel of the nearest kiln, a red hot pantile from a collapsing roof fell onto her back knocking her prone, but she stifled a scream.  She took a last glance at the tortured woman, who was now having her feet nailed to the door with her legs spread, the warriors seemingly oblivious to the inferno behind them, then Macilenta  quickly slid on her belly over the broken pieces of tile into the cooler centre of the kiln.

For hours she continued to hear the shouts and screams of terror and pain.  The heat intensified even in her hiding place,  a hot draught blew in through the firing tunnel while even the inside walls of the kiln were becoming warm to her touch.  She started scraping up pieces of broken tile from the floor and walls to block off the tunnel, which seemed to take forever.  Hands,  elbows and knees bleeding, her tunic sodden with sweat and red dust, she gave up when darkness fell, with the passage still not totally blocked, and the light from the flue above faded to a dull red reflected from the flames of the burning city.  

When Macilenta came to the following day her tunic was stuck to her skin with dried dust and her mouth and throat burned in the dry heat.   Her head throbbed as she tried to hear what was happening outside,  she could still hear the crackle of flames and the occasional crash of falling timber.  She prepared to clear a way out of the firing tunnel but then hearing more shouts and yells outside crawled back to the centre of the kiln and went to lie down again.  But she found the floor of broken tile irritated her inflamed dehydrated skin so she stripped off her tunics and spread them on the floor and lay naked on them before passing out.

Macilenta drifted in and out of consciousness before falling into a more restful sleep as the temperature finally started to fall later in the day.   It was dark when she finally awoke properly,  there was no longer even the red glow of flames to provide slight illumination so she had to grope in the dark to find the entrance.  Her throat burning with thirst she scrabbled blindly at the sharp shards  to clear the tunnel, she could feel cooler air blowing against her flushed face as she squeezed through the hole she had made, heedless of the broken pottery tearing her arms, breasts, belly, hips and knees, only thinking of her need for water. 

She had to stop at the entrance to the tunnel because the ground outside was covered in hot smouldering ash and pieces of charred timber.  She gazed around in amazement at the desolation surrounding her, all the buildings had disappeared apart from the next kiln which had cracked open and partially collapsed.  There was now just ash where she had seen  the woman being crucified against a substantial door, but horrified she realized she could still hear talking, shouting and, somewhat fainter, screams from the area hidden behind her kiln.  With tearless sobs she collapsed in the tunnel entrance thinking that here she would die of from thirst, but after only a couple of minutes she determinedly crawled back inside to retrieve her tunics and sandals. 

Back at the tunnel entrance she put on her sandals then tightly wrapped her under tunic around her left foot and her outer tunic around the other.  Taking a deep breath she cautiously stepped over the smouldering ash to peer behind the kiln.  Her heart sank as she saw the shattered ruins of the colossal Temple of Claudius  still standing but surrounded by flames which illuminated warriors,  now clothed,  throwing more pieces of timber against its walls to add to the conflagration.  Were any of her family still alive inside the temple?  If there were there was nothing she could do,  in any case her body demanded that she find something to drink as a matter of urgency.  Turning her back on the horror illuminated by the flames she ran away,  crouching, into the darkness, silently praying that the Legion might arrive in time to save those besieged within the temple.

With relief the ash and debris beneath her feet at last gave way to mud and grass, but then she suddenly caught sight of a tall still figure in front of her, dimly illuminated by the red glow from the flames.  Macilenta dropped to the ground, the wet grass cold against her bare flesh,  then cautiously looked up holding her breath, she looked aghast at a nude bloody androgynous figure impaled upright through the genital area on a timber set upright in the ground.  She assumed it was a female by its slender form and broad hips,  though the front of the chest seemed to have been destroyed leaving just a shredded mass of tissue crawling with flies.  Looking to either side she could make out further naked corpses similarly impaled.  Macilenta felt momentary guilt at not checking the other victims but her rapidly weakening body craved water so she turned away and headed south for the stream which fed into the brackish River Colne below the city.

Reaching the stream she thankfully waded into it, knelt and lapped up the water like an animal.  After a couple of minutes she started shivering violently from the cold water flowing round her legs and thighs and dribbling down her breasts and stomach, and from the chill winter night's  breeze on her naked flesh.  She quickly scrambled from the muddy steam bank and ran crouching to the undergrowth of a group of straggly trees.

Looking at her feet only a few strands of sodden burnt cloth remained of her tunics, though she did still have her sandals as a last vestige of civilization.  Scooping a shallow hole in the damp dead leaves and soil, in the slight shelter of some brambles, Macilenta curled into a shivering ball to await the dawn.

In daylight the ruined city looked dangerously close and she could see more stakes and crosses with bodies nailed or impaled on them.   Macilenta realised she must find some clothing to keep herself warm as a matter of urgency,  her feet were already numb and her reactions slowed.   As she huddled desperately wondering where she should seek clothing,  and food, she heard loud cheering from the direction of the ruined temple followed by screams of terror.   The remaining fugitives sheltering in the The Temple of the Divine Claudius must finally have been captured by the Iceni.  She wondered if her father or any other of her relations,  household or friends were among them.  

Crouching Macilenta ran westward following the stream.  After several minutes  she risked another glance towards the city, she now saw several bloody, screaming,  apparently naked, figures being crucified, probably men.  The next time she peered above the tall riverside reeds at the city ruins she shuddered in horror as she saw a post being raised, in front of the crucifixions, atop of which was a slim , pale, struggling figure being pulled down onto it by the thighs.  Even from that distance away the victim's piercing screeching made Macilenta wince.  She paused in her flight and stared as a naked leaping warrior started hacking at the front of the vertically impaled woman making a large red stain run down from her chest to her abdomen.  Although she was too far away to see exactly what was happening Macilenta recalled with horror the mutilated corpse she had encountered during the night and with both hands felt her own small pert breasts and shuddered at the thought of a savage naked warrior slashing them off, all while a stout hard wooden pole was settling its way upwards through her most private parts into her abdomen.  She ducked and, shivering from both cold and fright, fled in terror.

By mid afternoon, as the low winter sun sank towards the western horizon, Macilenta was feeling increasingly weak and twice lost her balance, the first time falling unsteadily to her hands and knees but the second time she fell face first as her left sandal caught on a root breaking a strap.  She stopped and looked around, feeling blood from her nose running down her face to drip onto her chest.   Camulodunum was now at least a dozen miles behind her so she wearily scrambled  up  to the first branch of a nearby scrubby tree to investigate her surroundings.  A little way to the west she thought she could see some hazy smoke, it would probably be a Trinovantes village and she wondered whether that tribe had been also involved in the attack on Camulodunum  even though her father had only mentioned the Iceni.  In any case it would be unwise to display any indication at all that she was a Roman, even though she was already naked, filthy and bleeding, so she kicked off her remaining sandal and untied her hair letting it fall to her shoulders.  Cautiously, keeping low, she approached the stockaded village from the opposite side to the twin low timber watch towers.   Although clearly someone had a fire in one of the circular huts she could neither hear nor see any sign of life.  Once up against the stockade timbers it was possible to peer between them into the village.   There was still no-one to be seen so she guessed that most if not all the inhabitants had joined the attack on Camulodunum.

Desperate and emboldened she searched around and soon found a broken piece of branch which she could lean against the wall allowing her to scramble up high enough to be able to haul her body onto and then over the six foot high pales to fall heavily onto her backside on the gravelly ground inside.   She ran to the nearest of the circular huts and peered inside.  Before her eyes could adjust to the darkness inside Macilenta was startled by a shriek from the dim interior and backed away.  A frail looking woman with long white hair emerged,  brandishing a knife which she stabbed jerkily towards Macilenta'a naked belly, while calling out what sounded to her like 'Yodicus'.  Macilenta grabbed a sharp ended pole which was leaning against the next hut but when she turned back a tall youth bearing a sword had come from behind one of the other huts and was staring at her open mouthed. 

Macilenta's first reaction was to be overwhelmed with shame at her appearance, and she nearly dropped her weapon to cover her breasts and crotch with her hands, but as the youth started speaking to her in a tongue she couldn't understand she lowered the point of her pole towards him.  With slight relief she realised that he was missing his left leg and his left arm was occupied holding a stout pole to keep his balance.  He continued shouting at her in his own language as Maclienta circled him from a safe distance.  Several times she attempted to thrust the point of her weapon at him but each time he struck it firmly aside with his sword, however his attempts to advance on her were no more than a slow stumble.

The old woman became more animated than Macilenta had expected from her appearance and started yelling and throwing pebbles and turnips at her.  Trying to ignore the old woman Macileta kept her next thrust low to the ground instead of trying again to spear her adversary in the torso and he was unable to bend sufficiently to effectively parry her pole with his sword before it caught his ankle, sending him tumbling forward to the ground.  She swiftly struck again driving the sharp point deep into the side of his abdomen rolling him onto his side as he dropped the sword.  Macilenta quickly grabbed the sword and, leaving the youth screaming in agony on the floor, attacked the old woman as she turned to flee.  Although she had never before handled a full size sword she very effectively struck the woman across the back of her neck sending her senseless to the ground. 

Turning back to the injured youth she brought the blade down across his right wrist leaving it bleeding profusely before reaching to remove a knife from his belt.  Remembering the tortures and indignities his people has inflicted on the civilized people of Camulodunum  she savagely ripped away his clothes.   He made a feeble attempt go grab her with his left hand but she immediately  stabbed the point of the knife into the back of his hand.   As he lay on his back, writhing on dirt soaked in his own blood, she stood over him looking down.   She was ashamed when she momentarily found herself thinking how magnificent his naked body must have looked before he lost his leg.   Then remembering the mutilated impaled woman she had seen the previous night she reached down and grasped his genitals, pulled hard upwards on them,  then cut them away from his groin and flung them away, leaving him screaming in high pitched agony.

Shakily Macilenta realised she desperately needed clothes both for warmth and so that she could pass as a native Briton.  She left the dying youth and ran into two of the huts but in the dark interior of the huts as dusk fell, although she found some stale bread which she ate ravenously and a warm skin on one of the beds ordinary clothing eluded her.  Panic stricken she turned instead to stripping the dead or unconscious crone, she cared little which, and putting her clothes on herself, first a crude flax shirt then a shapeless red woollen garment without sleeves pinned at the shoulders and belted at the waist.   The old woman's shoes were of thin oily smoked leather pulled together at the top with thongs and fitted Macilenta's feet very loosely.   She hurriedly fastened the woman's warm striped cloak with a brooch and, with a last glance at the youth‘s naked, blood splattered, twitching body, ran towards the village's gate with the woolly skin bundled under her arm.  As she pushed open the surprisingly light gate she looked behind fearing pursuit but saw no-one.  She ran back a couple of miles towards the city in the gathering darkness before curling up to sleep in comparative comfort beneath the warm animal skin.

The next morning it was long after dawn when Macilenta awoke.  Somewhat refreshed after her most comfortable nights sleep in the last couple of days, but still feeling quite hungry she cautiously skirted round to the west of the city which appeared completely deserted apart from circling crows and the occasional barking of dogs.  Accepting that her best hope was to meet up with the Ninth Legion, which was hopefully still on the way, she set off on the well worn track heading north west.  However she was later faced with a choice of routes on a couple of occasions  but tried to keep heading in a generally westward direction.  She became increasingly worried that the Legion would be heading towards Camulodunum on a different road.  The loose flimsy shoes she had taken from the old woman started to fall apart soon after noon and she regretfully discarded  them and continued her trek barefoot.  The winter dusk seemed to come early as cold and hungry, with feet sore and bleeding, she thankfully settled down for the night beneath the warm skin she was still carrying.

She awoke at dawn the next day and immediately panicked that she had lost her way and that the Legion had already passed her.  Stiff and hungry she again tried to guess which direction was north-west and resumed her journey trying to ignore the pain from her feet. She hadn't been walking for long when she finally encountered a substantially constructed road similar to the recently built road which led south from Camulodunum to Londinium.  She hoped this therefore might be a direct Imperial road leading  north from Londinium to Lindum Colonia.  Although more confident that she was now heading in the right direction she became increasingly worried that the Legion had left the new road at a different point, although there was  now the slight hope of finding a fort still under Imperial control along the road.  However the fresh stone surface of this road was lacerating the soles of her feet even though she walked along the edge of the road rather than in the middle where the largest stones were.

Around noon she watched some large black birds circling over some woods off the road to the right and, in her hunger, idly wondered what raw crow might taste like, not that she could see any way of catching one.  Only a short distance further on a muddy road branched off to the right, churned up by recent use.  Suddenly she recalled the crows she had seen circling Camulodunum the previous morning; might this be where the IX Legion had wreaked vengeance on the native tribes as they headed south?   She hopefully splashed through the cold mud  following the road into the woods, the road turned slightly and she stood in shock as she saw many bodies strewn about the road, Roman soldiers!

Macilenta looked at several of the nearest corpses in case she recognised Quintus but,  realizing the enormity of that task, she fell to her hands and knees in the mud sobbing.  All her hopes had rested on finding the Ninth Legion and now it was apparent that, improbable as it might seem, they too had been thoroughly defeated by the native rabble.    She wished she had paid more attention to the menfolk's discussions at mealtimes, she had a vague recollection of her father telling, a few weeks ago, how the other Legions were setting off on an expedition to eradicate the Druids, was it overseas to the west, or just a very long way, she now wished she had paid more attention.  Whatever, she had the feeling she was now alone in a land hostile to any Roman left in it.  She was defenceless in a land where she would understand no-one and any attempt to speak in Latin would result in certain death, or worse.

She wandered aimlessly away from the road before settling down beneath her fur skin to cry herself to sleep, wondering if she could survive the barefoot journey to Londinium with little hope of finding anything to eat on the way.

Macilenta rejoined the road and dejectedly trudged towards Londinium many miles to the south.  Despite the pain from the battered soles of her feet and the damp from the dreary winter morning's drizzle slowly soaking through her clothes to her skin she tried to keep a good lookout for anyone approaching.  Mid morning she saw a horseman approaching from the south, she started to duck towards the ditch when she realised he was an Eques Speculator.  She thankfully ran to the middle of the road,hands raised ready to call out that she was a Roman Citizen who had fled from Camulodunum.  She had hardly opened her mouth when he spurred his horse to charge directly at her, the horses chest knocking her sprawling senseless onto the  road surface.

Marcus, one of the cavalry scouts who had been attached to the Procurator, Catus Decianus, had just left Londinium which the Governor of Britain, Gaius Suetonius Paulinus had ordered be allowed to fall to the oncoming force of Boudicca with her hordes of  Britons.  Marcus had already seen what the savage natives had done to the citizens and auxiliaries of Camulodunum and the horrific image of Roman women impaled, tortured and mutilated remained in his mind.  At last he had encountered one of those despicable natives on whom he could wreak vengeance.  Dismounting he drew his sword, kicked the prone girl onto her back, then thrust it up beneath her garments until the tip reached her neck and lifted up the handle levering the blade against her collar bone to rip open her clothes.

Marcus stared in disgust at the filthy, scrawny, bleeding female lying on the stones beneath him.  How these disgusting native girls contrasted with the shapely Roman women!  All the same he felt light headed with a stirring in his groin, so he dragged her by one ankle onto the grass alongside the roadside ditch then , checking no-one was approaching, furtively raped her.  Her cunt was surprisingly tight though he wasn't sure she was actually a virgin, but her cold, bony, unresponsive body was hardly the best fuck he had ever had.  Still, feeling that she had got away lightly by being unconscious he hacked the straightest branch he could from a nearby tree and started stripping away all twigs and side branches from it while he waited for her to awake.

Even after he had used his helmet to pour ditch water over her face she remained unconscious so he started to roughly insert the sturdy stick he had prepared into her vagina.  Her eyes suddenly opened in terror and she started screaming that she was a Roman citizen!  Momentarily taken aback Marcus quickly realised that, as she could speak Latin but had the build and looks of a Briton, she must be an enslaved native girl.  Irritated by her pathetic babbling he firmly grasped her dry tongue and pulled out as far out of her mouth as he could before cutting it clean away.  As she screamed blood sprayed from her mouth over her bare chest and his arms, he threw away the severed tongue and grabbed the stick starting to thrust it deeper inside her.  Fortunately he glanced up at that moment, in time to see a three Britons running across the fields towards him.  He immediately ran to his horse, abandoning hope of impaling the native bitch and cutting off her breasts, as he had seen had been mercilessly been done by her kin to the women of Camulodunum.

In her dazed, barely conscious state Macilenta could hardly take in what was happening to her.  One moment she was welcoming her gallant rescuer then the next she knew he was torturing and mutilating her.

The pain and shame of finding herself naked on her back with a stick being forced into her had been nothing compared to the choking agony as he ripped out her tongue leaving her mutilated mouth flooding with her own blood.  She prayed that death would come swiftly as the stick started to be twisted again and thrust up through her cervix sending waves  of  indescribable pain flooding through her body.

Suddenly he stopped,  ran to mount his horse and galloped away down the road heading north.   She rolled onto her side and curled up grasping the stick in both hands, but just touching it caused such discomfort that she hesitated to withdraw it. 

As she lay sobbing with blood bubbling from her mouth she felt a coarse hand on her right shoulder, terrified she looked up to see a grizzled looking native tribesman looking pitifully down at her.  Another younger Briton stared at her with a slight grin while a third stood several feet away holding a pony laden with panniers.  The older man spoke gently to her in a tongue she didn't understand then spoke in a commanding tone to the young man who moved round behind him and grasped both her upper arms pushing her shoulders to the ground.   The older man then moved to place one hand on her left thigh while he slowly and painfully withdrew the rough stick from her vagina with the other, while he was concentrating on that delicate task the grinning youth moved his right hand from her arm to instead firmly grasp her right breast.  Macilenta winced and arched her back off the ground as the rough stick was finally removed from her vagina.   The older man shouted angrily at the younger one who immediately released his grip so she could sit up and clear her mouth of blood.   He then wrapped her cloak around her while the younger man picked up the torn remnants of her other clothes.  She was carried over to the patiently waiting pony, the older man talking incomprehensibly to her all the while.   They placed her face down across the pony's back and, with the fur skin carefully placed over her they set off to the west. 

Eventually they reached a village where Macilenta was handed to the care of several of the women.  She was washed, fed some watery soup and had herb poultices applied to the worst of her wounds and into her mouth.  The women and then some men, presumably tribal leaders, came to question her and, having no idea what they were saying, she had difficulty deciding how to respond. 

In the end she decided she could do no better than to act simple,like a young child.  After a few days the women tried giving her tasks such as grinding flour and washing clothes, none of which she had ever done before and it became increasingly obvious that they were now thinking of her as a useless burden on the village.

She noticed the youth who had held and groped her when she had been rescued watching her several times, also grinning as he talked to some younger boys who had been staring at her.  She increasingly worried that if she was of no other use to them she would end up being used as a plaything for the villagers; whenever she tried to be helpful it seemed that,  because she couldn't understand them,  she did the wrong thing,  which was increasingly leading to her being beaten by the other women.  After cooking and serving from a pot apparently containing waste intended as pig food one of the more important women,  perhaps the wife of the village leader or chief, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the open area where the villagers assembled and started viciously beating her about the head with a broom handle.   As Macilenta fell to her knees,  trying to protect her face with her hands, several boys and youths ran up and joined in by kicking her about the body and legs.  Emboldened when they realized none of the women attempted to stop them, they bent down and started ripping away her clumsily repaired clothes.  As more of her flesh was exposed they became more excited and two of the younger boys started kicking her again - belly,  ribs,  thighs, wherever they caught a glimpse of bare flesh!  Two older youths grabbed her legs spreading them but then as one of them dropped his striped trousers and knelt between them inserting two then three fingers into her vagina an older man shouted furiously and the boys reluctantly stood back from her.   Following further bellowed commands the women bundled Macilenta into a small hut in which vegetables were stored and animal hides hung and tightly bound her arms behind her back,  then bound her ankles together.  After throwing a blanket over her they left her alone on the floor, tired and  bruised, as night fell.  

The next day an old woman came in once to her and checked her bonds but gave her nothing to eat or drink.   Early the following morning she was roughly woken up by two men.  They pulled the blanket off her, untied her feet,  and made her stand naked in front of them.  One placed his hands on her breasts before moving them to the sides of her chest and running them down over her bony ribs, squeezing her abdomen and feeling her hip bones.   He made a contemptuous comment to his partner before tying a rope round her neck.   Macilenta  stood shaking with cold and fear as a coarse blanket was placed over her and she was led outside. She was  at last given a drink of water before being made to sit upon the back of a pony.  In trying to do so with her wrists bound behind her the blanket fell away exposing her breasts and thighs but the men swiftly bundled the blanket back round her and secured it with a pin.  She had little idea in which direction they set off, the sky was darkly overcast and there was a light drizzle.  When the two men stopped to eat around midday they let her lie on the wet grass to rest and gave her water to drink, but only a small piece of crust to eat.

It was dark when they finally arrived at a large busy village, Macilenta was led by the rope round her neck into a large circular hut where she could dimly make out other prisoners bound hand and foot.   A girl tried speaking to her but, yet again, Macilenta couldn't understand a word.   She huddled beneath her blanket waiting for dawn,  unable to ask for water.   Eventually, soon after dawn,  a man came in and untied the prisoners, who all appeared to be girls or young women, giving each one some soup.  Shortly afterwards he was joined by two more men and the girls were all made to stand in a row, any still wearing any clothes were made to remove them so they could be cursorily inspected before being ordered outside. 

Macilenta was horrified and humiliated to find she that she was made to stand, stark naked ,in the middle of a row of ten girls facing a crowd of about fifty men.  A short thickset man used a length of knotted rope to beat the hands of the girls as they tried to cover their breasts and cunts until they compliantly stood with their arms by their sides in the morning chill. 

The first girl in the line, a short large breasted dark haired teenager, was then pulled forward and made to turn right round then stand with her feet apart and arms above her head as men in the crowd started noisily bidding for her.  Even as the auction continued some bidders ran forward and forced open her mouth to peer side and felt her arms and thighs.  One fondled her breasts for a few seconds before getting a sharp blow across his knuckles from the short attendant's rope, which seemed to hurt the girl more than the over enthusiastic bidder.  As soon as she was sold the next  one, a worn tired looking woman with slightly greying black hair and sagging breasts was auctioned, with considerably less interest only attracting three, almost reluctant, bids. 

And so the auctions continued until it was Macilenta's turn.  Her humiliation continued as several men stepped forward for a closer inspection and, although they seemed to stare appreciatively at her pert breasts - she was all too aware how the cold winter air had made her nipples erect, they grimaced when they looked into her mutilated mouth and she could only look back blankly when one spoke to her in a questioning tone of voice. Another one roughly felt her thin bony arms and thighs and walked away making disparaging sounding comments to other potential bidders.  In the end there were only four bids for her, after which she was roughly pushed into the hands of a tall solidly built grey haired man.

A young man accompanying him tightly re-tied her wrists behind her back before placing a thin flax linen sheet over her  shoulders, which did little to either warm her shivering body or cover her nudity.  The older man returned with a rather grubby looking tall brown haired girl who quickly had her wrists tied behind her, so tightly that she cried out in pain, before the rope from her neck was tied to Macilenta's wrists.  The younger man then tore a strip from the bottom of the sheet already barely covering Macilenta and tied it round the other girl's hips to just about cover her pubic area.  The girl hung her head down in shame and tried to shake her matted hair to cover her bare breasts, but a tug on the rope around Macilanta's neck signalled that they were to start walking.  Although the sun came out soon after noon the chill breeze also increased, at times blowing the loose sheet away from Macilenta's thighs and waist, while her arms were painfully  pulled back when the sobbing shivering girl behind stumbled as her bare feet tripped painfully on protruding stones and roots.

Macilenta was relieved when they arrived at a settlement just before dusk.  The two girls were led into a rectangular timber framed building lit by burning torches fixed to the walls.   A fat black haired woman walked towards the new arrivals and swiftly removed the grubby sheet from Macilenta and looked disdainfully at her scrawny body.  The older man muttered something as he opened her mouth for the woman's inspection.  Shaking her head she turned her attention to the other girl while Macilenta looked around the room, there were wooden framed partitions dividing up the building.  At the end of this room were several couches on and about which languished four young women wrapped in furs,  gazing with little interest at the newcomers.

The younger man then lead her across to the nearest couch, which the girl seated on it obediently vacated, and pushed her shoulders back so she lay facing him,  he quickly dropped his trousers then knelt between her thighs,  gently but firmly pushing them apart.   With one hand he pushed her chin up and back so she could no longer look at him while his other hand guided his erect penis into her.  He then grasped her bony shoulders as he pumped away at her, she was still sore and scarred from the cavalry scout's assault on her and tears came to her eyes but she resisted the urge to cry out in pain.  It was soon over as he came quite quickly and gently lifted her head onto the couch smiling appreciatively at her before turning his attention to the other new girl.  Macilenta made herself comfortable beneath a warm fur on one of the couches trying to ignore the screams of the other girl, which seemed to slowly transform from fury to pain then ecstasy.

The next afternoon and evening five customers visited, handing coins over to the fat woman as they selected a girl, in the evening one man got the woman to remove the covering fur skin from Macilenta but after looking over her reclining naked body for a couple of minutes he waved her aside choosing another girl instead.  Mid afternoon the next day the man who had rejected Macilenta the previous day returned with an older friend whom he immediately pointed her out to.  There followed a prolonged argument with the fat lady lady who eventually shrugged her shoulders and accepted a handful of coins from the man.  She then motioned Macilenta to remove her furs and stand naked with her back against one of the partitions.  Macilenta compliantly allowed them to bind her wrists with leather thongs which were fastened to the top rail of the partition spreading her arms wide just above head height.  The woman then produced a wooden pole about four foot long which she placed on the ground at the base of the wall.  Macilenta started to panic as her ankles were pulled apart and bound to each end of the pole increasing the strain on her stretched arms, when she started to scream she was quickly gagged with a strip of linen. 

She suddenly realised the older man now had a leather whip in his hand which he sharply brought across her hollow belly winding her.  The second stroke was across her thighs after which he stood back admiring her contorted writhing.  The next two strokes came in rapid succession, first one across her belly again then another across her right breast but stinging her ribcage below the left one.  He then stood back again watching the red welts slowly appearing on her body as he dropped his trousers.  Vicious strokes across each arm followed then another across her belly, lower and harder than before this one drew blood where it cut across her pelvis. 

No longer able to contain himself the man grasped her tightly with his left arm and impaled her with his rod-stiff penis.  She felt as though he was going to tear her arms from her shoulders as he vigorously thrust his hips to and fro.  Macilenta prayed and prayed that he would come soon and put an end to this torture.  When he eventually released her and eased his sweaty body away from her she was astonished to see a Centurion standing in the doorway watching!   He smiled at her and clapped gently.  He turned and said to the fat woman “I admire your new taste in decorations” before walking up to Macilenta a drawing his fingernails down the sides of her ribcage making her arch towards him.  He then tightly grasped her face by the cheekbones turning it towards him.  Laughing he then walked across the room and selected another girl with whom he disappeared into a private room.  The woman smiled kindly at Macilenta, nodding, and gently brushed the hair away from her face before walking away leaving her hanging there.

On his way out the Centurion again walked over to Macilenta, felt her breasts, then grasped the sides of her flat belly and squeezed, pulling her towards him.  The woman walked up saying “Do you want to play with this one? “ adding “ Unfortunately  someone has made a bit of a mess of her mouth” as she pulled down her lower jaw.”

The Centurion laughed saying “She'll be half price, for half the number of holes then?”

The fat woman laughingly replied “Two-thirds, are you forgetting the arse?”  He laughed back then turned and left.  It wasn't until long after dark, after admitting numerous customers for the other girls,  including three more Roman soldiers, that the woman untied Macilenta when she noticed that she was shivering violently in the evening chill.

Macilenta wondered at the presence of the soldiers.   What had become of Boudicca's revolt?   There didn't seem to be any animosity between the soldiers and these Britons,  despite her curiosity she was too ashamed of the state to which she had descended to consider any attempt to communicate with them or even to let them realise that she understood Latin.

Over the next few weeks only four times did customers select Macilenta,  and on two of those occasions it was only because the other girls were all occupied.   The fat women gave her plenty to eat, encouraging her to clear her plate in the hope of building her up a bit.   Unknown to her keeper, several times after particularly large meals Macilenta's stomach revolted and she threw up the entire meal in the latrine.

Remembering the Centurion's appreciative comments previously the woman again had Macilenta bound naked as a "decoration" to the partition just inside the doorway,  this time choosing a warmer spring day.   Several of the customers of the other girls seemed to enjoy staring at and fondling her while they waited,  though one sturdy red faced customer stinking of beer gave her a crippling punch in the belly.  Before she could recover from the first blow he hit her again,  even harder; she vomited down over her breasts and her bowels opened and shit ran down her legs, which lost all feeling.   Her assailant was quickly ushered away but before the woman could return another man entered and stared at her in astonishment.   He brushed aside the woman's attempts to clear up the mess and smeared the vomit around Macilenta's breasts and belly.   He then bent down and scooped up one of her watery turds, pulling down her gag he seemed momentarily shocked by the void where her tongue should have been.   He then shouted something incomprehensible to the woman before shoving the turd into her mouth and replacing the gag.  Sobbing quietly, for the second time in her life Macilenta wished she was dead.   As that customer went off with another girl the woman unbound Macilenta who fell limply to the floor and she got another of the girls to drag her away to be cleaned up. 

For the next few days no customers selected the sad faced girl curled up clutching her belly.  So about a week later Macilenta again found herself bound spread-eagled against the partition.  The Centurion happened to return that evening and this time asked for her to be taken down,  but had the woman place the pole behind Macilenta's neck and bind her arms to it before he spread her legs and fucked her while she was helpless to interfere with his roaming hands.

When Macilenta saw how a girl who became pregnant was treated she was glad that customers didn't choose her too often.  She was at first puzzled, then horrified, to see the youngest of the girls dragged naked from beneath her furs and forced to repeatedly leap into the air touching her buttocks with her heels each time.  Each time her heels failed to make contact the fat woman struck her across the buttocks with a hazel switch.  When the young girl finally mistimed  a jump falling heavily her exhausted body was stretched out on the floor by two of the other girls and her mistress bound straps so tightly around her abdomen that she lay whimpering all night. 

A couple of days later the Centurion returned, accompanied by another taller one.   He pointed out Macilenta to his colleague saying "There's the one I was telling you about. "  As the second Centurion turned to face her Macilenta's  heart missed a beat.   There staring straight at her was Quintus!  She was so ashamed she tried to shrink beneath the fur skin but after being paid by Quintus her mistress pulled the fur off her.  Macilenta stared at the floor but Quintus took her hand and led her into one of the private rooms.  To her great relief  it soon became apparent that he hadn't recognized her.   She held him as tightly as he held her and thrust her hips in unison with his.  For the first time since since fleeing Camulodunum she achieved an orgasm and lay back ecstatic and panting as he ran his fingers softly over her belly  before gathering his clothes and leaving in silence.

That night she lay awake wondering.  So Quintus wasn't among the dead of the Ninth Legion in that bleak wood.  Had he escaped from the battlefield, how many had died that day?  It must have been bad if they hadn't returned to bury their dead comrades.   Perhaps his cohort hadn't even been involved in that tragic battle?  She couldn't ask him and would probably never find out what horrors he had been through.

Quintus returned the following night and again she enthusiastically co-operated with his desires.  He had gathered his clothes ready to leave when his curiosity got the better of him and he pulled Macilenta's mouth open and sadly looked at the revolting scarred stump remaining of her tongue.  On an impulse she grabbed his penis with her right hand and massaged it back to a full erection then, before he could object she sank her mutilated mouth over it.  The tip just reached her throat and she thrust her face deeper against it so the end fully entered her throat.  With small thrusting movements of her head she made it grow to fill her throat and as it came she swallowed his cum with convincing  fake enthusiasm.  He looked tenderly at her sweat and cum stained face as he dressed and left.

It was four days later when he returned and they caressed and shagged like lovers, this time he kissed her tenderly on the lips though she noticed he didn't allow his tongue to enter her mouth, as they embraced sleepily she froze with horror as she heard him whisper “Macilenta”, moments later she fervently hoped he hadn't noticed her reaction to her name.  Had he recognised her?  Or was he just dreaming that the sex slave he was renting was the girl he once loved?  Did that mean he really  had truly loved her?  She feared he would feel her heart pounding beneath her bony ribs.  Surely in this place,  with her hair loose and straggly and her body starved and battered,  he couldn't really have recognized her?

After he had dressed he called her mistress over.  Producing a large purse of coins he said “My friend tells me this whore doesn't bring in much income for you.”

The woman started to deny this then added “and the customers of the other girls like seeing her on display...”

Quintus cut her short “I will pay you all this, and more when I return, if you will keep her safe for me.  You can display her and let other customers play with her while she's bound but keep her from being fucked so she stays clean for me, and don't let anyone scar her permanently.”

The fat woman slowly shook her head as she took in what he was saying then stood in silence before inspecting the contents of his purse and replying “If you pay twice that I will do as you wish.” 

Macilenta's heart sank as he turned and started to leave, but at the doorway he stopped and turned “I will pay what you ask, you thieving daughter of a whore, but take good care of her.  I shall ask our soldiers who visit here to report to me and if you break our contract I will have you crucified.”

She nodded “We have a deal, but don't forget I'll have the cost of feeding her while you're away.”

He angrily retorted “That won't cost you too much, you're to make sure she puts on no fat or extra flesh so don't feed her any more than is necessary to keep her alive for me.”

With that he turned and left, leaving Macilenta wondering if she was awake or not, and if not was this a dream or a nightmare?