Pagan Princess (Chapter Three)

At his palace in Nova Magus the Roman Consul Petronius Arius gazed toward the estuary far down in the valley of the Ems River. Petronius was a hawkish man some thirty-eight years old; he was tired of this barbaric land with its heinous Anglo Saxon’s and marauding pirates from Germany and France. He lorded over some 200.000 soldiers of the Roman Empire who had been spread thinly all over the south coast of Briton. To him Briton was the most inhospitable place on Earth with its cold wet winters and temperate summers. This summer however, was exceedingly hot and humid even by Britons standards.

To add to his discomfort he had been receiving reports that food convoys and patrols were being systematically wiped out. Not one of the soldiers had lived to tell who the perpetrators were. He sent for his General Honorius Plexus who controlled all his troops south of Londinium. The General was also a battle weary soldier who longed to return to Rome. He stood before the Consul and saluted.

“Honorius, I thought we had eradicated all opposition to our troops in South Downland, by the gods man we even disposed of its errant king!” The Consul turned from the window and faced his General, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Consul I am sure we had but it seems we have a new enemy on our hands. Yet another enemy to add to the ever growing numbers.” Replied the General wearily.

“This one is different Honorius, they have acquired horses, horses from our own men. Up to now Britons had little knowledge of horses and indeed little knowledge of fighting on horseback, so who are they?” The Consul slammed his fist down on the marble table in front of him.

“At this moment I have no idea, release some more troops to me Consul and I will appoint an appropriate Commander to seek them out and destroy them, whoever they are!” Replied the General sternly.

“Yes, yes Honorius, I will give orders for a legion to be released from our border with Caledonia. Things are a little quieter there now since the wall was built marking our territory but you must not fail me General, if this news gets back to Rome we will both be banished to the Siberian wastes!” Petronius sat down and unfolded a map of South Downland.

“Get your men to start their search here.” The Consul tapped the map with his finger. “And General.” He went on. “If it is at all possible bring the leader of this uprising to me personally.” An example must be made; it must be understood that anyone leading an uprising against Rome will meet with a long lingering and terrible death!”

Honorius saluted his Consul and left to organise his counter offensive in South Downland. At his headquarters in Nova Magus he sat down and thought about whom he would appoint to lead the first sweep. The name that came to mind was Antoninus Maximus, a bright young centurion that had excelled in the destruction and capture of would be guerrilla f***es. He was a powerful young man and extremely battle hardy, the General felt he would be the man to bring these rebels to account.

During the next few weeks a legion of three thousand men arrived just south of Londinium. Honorius Plexus was there to meet them together with Antoninus Maximus. The men were tired from their long march from the north. Honorius told the captains to let their men rest and then select a cohort of three hundred men to carry on to South Downland.

Antoninus was duly promoted to Tribune and was to lead this first cohort and seek out the guerrillas, he wanted dearly to kill them all but he was ordered to bring back a special prisoner. This prisoner was to be made a supreme example of, so Rome could be appeased, so the Britons would think twice before challenging the might of Rome again!


Melissia and Helena continued to seek sexual pleasure from each other over the next few weeks. Every time they killed Romans they sort refuge in each other’s arms. Killing and lovemaking became entwined, they were insatiable together.

Meanwhile just to the north in a village called Middle Hurst Antoninus Maximus arrived with his cohort of soldiers. It was his intention to question the villagers as to the possible whereabouts of the guerrilla army he sort. The villagers froze as the Romans marched into their haven, they wanted to run but there was nowhere for them to go. All the young men and boys of the village had been killed or taken to the Roman galleys for a lifetime in slavery. All that remained were a handful of young girls and a smattering of very elderly men and women.

Antoninus dismounted from his horse and accompanied by three centurions walked from one hut to another. In the darkness of one of the huts they came upon a young girl cowering in the corner, she was clearly afraid of the invaders. The girl was in her early 20’s and was called Meena, she was a small lean girl, with a pretty round face and light straw coloured hair. She was barefoot and wore a rough dress made of sackcloth.

Antoninus who spoke the Saxon Language addressed the girl. “Come outside, we wish to ask you some questions.” He grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her out of the hut. He liked it when they were afraid, the frightened ones always proved very helpful.

“You can start by telling us your name girl!” Yelled the first centurion as he towered over her.

“…” She stammered, hardly able to speak.

The villagers looked on, they were all truly terrified by this unwelcome intrusion by so many Romans. They all knew why they had come it was only a matter of time, now here they were in terrifying numbers surrounding the village.

Antoninus put his hand on the centurions shoulder and moved him to one side; he then gripped Meena’s shoulders. “What can you tell me about the attacks on our patrols Meena?” His fierce eyes burned into her.

“I..I...know nothing of what you ask sir.” She whimpered, terrified of the large Roman.

Antoninus turned to one of his centurions. “Did you bring your whip Drachius? I think Meena’s memory is somewhat lacking.” He continued to gaze into the girls eyes, looking for tell tale signs that she knew more then she let on.

Drachius nodded and fetched a fearsome looking whip from his saddlebag, in full view of Meena and the villagers he uncoiled it.

Antoninus turned to the villagers. “I have no stomach for putting young women under the lash, so if anyone would like to give me the information I seek then we can put an end to all this unpleasantness!”

There was just a murmured shuffling amongst the villagers but no one spoke up.

“Very well then, the lash it will be, seize her up!”

Three soldiers stepped forward and dragged Meena to a nearby post. They stripped her naked and tied her hands above her head. The girl stood trembling and braced herself for the ordeal that was to come.

Antoninus address the assembled villagers once more. “There is no reason for this girl to receive a single lash if I receive the information I need!” He waited for an answer but none came, the villagers just stared down at their feet.

“Very well Drachius lay it on!” Antoninus stepped back

Drachius was a well-muscled man with immensely powerful arms; he drew the whip back and laid the first lash squarely across Meena’s shoulder blades. The blow completely knocked all breath out of the young girl and drew a shrill scream from her which was followed by loud sobs. A large red weal quickly formed on her soft skin.

Antoninus addressed the villagers again. “As you can see I am not bluffing, he turned to the girl. “Meena, there is no need for you to suffer this torture, tell me what I want to know and I will have you cut down!”

Meena spoke through continuous sobs. “P..P..Please s..s..sir..I cannot help you with the information you seek, d…d…don’t hurt me anymore, this is so terrible for me!” She sobbed even more.

Antoninus countered, “That is not the right answer, Meena, Drachius, lay it on until I tell you to stop!” He stepped away once more.

Drachius drew back his mighty whip arm and struck the girl firmly across the shoulders once more, her whole body shook and another ugly weal criss-crossed the first. Meena screamed so loudly her voice became hoarse. The soldier struck again, this time the lash landed across the young girls backside, her buttocks trembled under the blow. Meena struggled wildly in a vane effort to avoid the punishing strokes; her body glistened in the sunlight as the pain from the welts burned into her skin. This was a pain like no other she had ever experienced in her young life, she hoped beyond all hope that her suffering would be worthwhile for she did not want to betray Melissia or her army.

Drachius continued to lay stroke after stroke across Meena’s back, buttocks and thighs. She had now lost her ability to scream, her vocal chords were damaged and she was loosing control of her bladder.

Antoninus ordered the soldier to stop; he turned once more to the villagers. “I am going to ask one last time for the information I seek, if it is not forthcoming I will have this girl lashed to death!” He paused to wait for an answer that did not come. He spoke to the two soldiers that were standing each side of the suspended girl.

“Very well, turn her around to face us, we will see how her breasts and stomach fare under the lash!”

Meena could not believe what she had heard; having lacerated her back they were now going to do the same to her front. She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth.

“Proceed!” Antoninus turned to the crowd once again. “ I mean what I say, please understand she will be whipped to death!”

The two flanking soldiers turned Meena’s body around for her to receive lashes to the front of her body. As Drachius drew his arm back to continue his onslaught one of the village elders stepped forward.

“STOP!” he shouted, “I will give you the information you require, I cannot standby and watch you murder this young girl!”” A murmur went through the assembled crowd.

Antoninus immediately gave the order for Drachius to stop and had Meena cut down. He beckoned for the old man to follow him to a nearby hut. “Come old man, tell me everything about this mysterious army that is killing my compatriots, I want to know every last detail.”

The Tribune and his three centurions listened to the old man as he unfolded his story. They stared at the village elder with more and more incredulity as they learned about the Pagan Princess Melissia and her army of ‘Warrior Women.’

“Are you telling me old man that our troops are being massacred by a bunch of little girls?” Snarled Antoninus through gritted teeth.

“Well, they are not so little.” Replied the old man. “And they are highly trained in guerrilla fighting and blinded by revenge. They dearly want to avenge the slaughter of their men folk.” The elder gave the assembled Romans a woeful look that said I am so tired of all this v******e and death.

Antoninus sighed. “What is your name old man?”

“I go by the name of Frederick” He replied

The Tribune rose from his crude wooden chair. “Well Frederick you have given us much to ponder and I thank you for your candour regarding these serious matters, you may leave us now.”

As soon as Frederick left the hut anger erupted from the three centurions.

Antoninus held up his hand to silence them. “Gentlemen, calm down, we must approach this problem calmly and logically. An army has been constructed from the very persons we overlooked, the women. Therefore we must take steps to see that this cannot happen ever again. So centurions, instruct your men to round up all the capable women and little girls and have them ferried to the galleys. We must let this Pagan Princess know that her people are once again under our total control. Also let it be known that we are retaining a small proportion of c***dren as hostages. She must be advised that if she does not surrender herself to me personally within the month the hostages will be put to death. So let it be written, so let it be done!”

Shouts and screams came from the villagers as the Roman soldiers rounded up the women and c***dren. They were put into crude wooden cages that had been commandeered from the village. The cages containing the captives were then loaded onto wooden carts to begin their arduous journey to the south coast of Briton. The Tribune left word that he would receive Melissia’s surrender at the very town she called home, Storrings Town.

Thanks to Frederick Antoninus had been furnished with all the information he needed regarding the errant Princess. He knew she would surrender herself once the plight of the hostages reached her. Already in his mind he planned her punishment. It also crossed his mind what the Consul would have to say when he heard that his troops had been dieing at the hands of a young woman and her female friends. He also remembered the Consuls last words to his General; ‘I want the transgressor brought to me alive!’

‘Ah yes.’ Thought the Tribune. ‘I will save enough of her for the Consul to set his example to the people. In the mean time I will make her scream for mercy, to beg for death, the road to Nova Magus is a long one.’ He smiled to himself. ‘Soon Melissia, soon your skin will be mine.’

It only took a few days for the news as to what happened in Middle Hurst to reach Melissia. She was mortified at what the Roman heathens had done to the women and c***dren. She called a meeting of her commanders.

Helena was the first to speak. “NO Melissia! We cannot condone you surrendering to that man, he is a monster.” She said tearfully.

The other commanders suggested that they “all surrender, no one woman should receive Roman punishment on her own.” Melissia however, had other ideas.

Helena and Melissia had a farewell night of unbridled passion; tongues and fingers worked their magic in the most delicate of places. The two girls brought each other into the erotic world of multiple orgasm, they writhed simultaneously in each other’s arms for most of the night. Their exertions caused their golden skin to glisten in the moonlight. Totally exhausted and sexually sated Helena relaxed in Melissia’s arms.

Helena sighed deeply and whispered to her lover, “Melissia, please change your mind about surrendering to those Roman murderers.”

Toying with a strand of Helena’s tussled hair Melissia replied, “This is the only way, my surrender will save the c***dren.”

“But Melissia,” Helena countered, “What if that cruel Tribune is not a man of his word?”

“Then you my dear lieutenant you will have to take my stead and wipe him and his murdering soldiers from the face of this earth!” Melissia gripped Helena’s shoulder and shuddered at the thought of leaving her, she whispered under her breath in Latin. “Nil illigitimus carborundum.”

Helena looked puzzled, “What does that mean?”

Melissia laughed, “It means, don’t let the bastards grind you down!” Giving Helena a hug she went on. “It will take more than one Roman Tribune and his cohorts to snuff the life out the Saxon women of this land. Come Helena, the dawn comes we must put our plans into action, do not fear, the gods are with us.” With that Melissia and her lieutenant dressed and summoned the leaders of their army.


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Posted by melissacee
3 years ago    Views: 283
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2 years ago
3 years ago
yea they are acting like I expect Romans to act
3 years ago
wonderful outstanding tale
3 years ago
Other than the lack of Saxons in Britain during the first century, :P this is a fantastic story