I stood there, behind my masters tunics, hardly daring to breath, hiding while the Iceni plundered the villa. I was naked, I had been sleeping when the attack started, I hid as the sound of slaughter echoed through the halls. Now it was quiet, dark. The Iceni invaders had not found me and had left the room. I summoned up all my courage and moved out into the room. The floor was cold, the hypocaust must not be stoked.

I moved as silently as I could through the dark room, but must not have been silent enough. An arm caught me round the chest, a blade pressed into my throat. “Halt!” An imperious command. I was still, as if I were ice. “On your knees!” The same harsh imperious voice commanded me. Not the voice of my master as is usual, but still it inflamed my passions. I descended to my knees, the arm letting me go, the blade still at my throat. The shutters were thrown back, the light of early dawn flooded the room.

The blade was kept at my throat, but the wielder moved in front of me. I saw powerful legs, bright red hair hung behind them to the knees, and no dick? There was a mount of venus, covered in more bright red hair. How would the victor mark my defeat with no dick? The voice laughed, “A woman with a knife inflames you so?” The imperious command had inflamed me, Venus’ playground did so to. My dick was standing proud, I was inflamed, I was scared, the Iceni had been laying waste to the province, and no one was still alive when they left.

I looked up, a powerful chest topped with impressive bosoms, powerful arms, she looked as though she were carved from the purest alabaster, her skin was so white, carved by the most skillful sculpture, her muscles so defined. This statue was carved twice life size, or so it seemed from my position, certainly taller than any woman I knew. Her face was beautiful, again skillfully carved from purest alabaster, the bright red hair cascaded down from her head, ending at her knees as I’d seen.