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Another Time Then [M - V]


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20th December (third day of Saturnalia)

Saturnalia felt like it would never end and it was intolerable. If it wasn't the fire that had almost burned down her domus, or the maddening encounter with the newest recruit of the vigiles then it was the hangovers that seemed to infect her house and her city that drove her mad. The smell of stale wine had lingered even after the previous nights festivities and she'd needed to get out to get some fresh air.

She'd sent the slave girl she'd been with ahead a few paces as they made their way back from the markets, arms and baskets (well...hers) laden with food given they couldn't prepare anything in the smoking ruin of their kitchen. They'd taken the long way back to their house on the Esquiline but Ovinia had relished the peace and the chance to clear her head. The sun was a few hours off of setting but the grey December day cast the streets in an ominous light. The fresh chill, however, cleared out her lungs as she followed twenty or so feet behind her slave, taking in the view as they circled round the Colleseum and the derelict insulae near them. 

Her pace slowed further as a few passers by - drunk from the night before no doubt - almost barrelled into. "Watch where you're going." She muttered as she stretched her legs and lengthened her stride to try and catch up with her slave girl, disappearing into the slow-moving, hungover mass of people coming the other way. "Lucia, slow down!" 

 

TAG: @Atrice

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Marcus had enjoyed Saturnalia ever since he came to Rome. It turned the city into the perfect hunting ground for a man like him. People everywhere, crowds and masses and many of them drunk and passing out here and there. It made it so easy for him to hurt them, so easy for him to get close, to do what he wanted to do and then leave again. And this year had been no different. Last night in particular had been good. His slaves had been left at home, as always, behind locked doors. Free to roam and do as they pleased, as long as they didn't leave the house.

Meanwhile, that's exactly what he did. And he didn't leave to get drunk and celebrate the festival. Not like the rest of them anyway. No, he had his knives with him, several of them, and his cloak and he'd hurt at least two people last night. Made them bleed. The man he'd done it to had tried to scream and would surely talk... so he lost his tongue. It had bled so much. Just like Marcus wanted it to.

Another night was approaching and Marcus had left the house once more. He couldn’t get enough of it. This was his chance! As he walked around, considering where to start, he heard a voice nearby that he thought he recognized. He’d heard that voice before. Marcus stopped and saw a young lady walking along, now calling out for someone, probably a slave. She was alone. He looked around, the streets could barely be called crowded now, but that could also be useful. He produced a piece of cloth from his bag and approached her from behind, as if he was just another walking the street, hurrying to get past her.

But he didn’t. Instead he barged right into her from behind, snaking his one arm around her to hold her and the other that held the cloth covered her mouth. The cloth would help dim any sounds she might try to make – and would keep her from doing anything to his hand. And now that he was close and seeing her from this angle, he had met her before, hadn’t he? What a coincidence… a small smile passed his lips... “You won’t scream for help this time. Stay quiet.” Marcus hissed close to her ear, hoping to drag her off to some abandoned worker’s shacks near the new Colosseum.

@Sara

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It happened out of nowhere and she felt herself begin to choke out a protest before something was clamped over her mouth. She still tried to scream as she felt the arm around her and a voice whispering against her throat. Gods protect me, Gods protect me. 

She remembered the voice, clear as day, how could she not? Dramatic things happened so rarely to women of her class and her station that when they did they stuck in one's mind. The night she'd been accosted and seen Alexius, the feeling of a blade at her stomach still came to her at night. Only this time there was no Alexius. It was day time, in Saturnalia. She had her slave - who was still up ahead, oblivious. This shouldn't be happening. 

She lashed out as he pulled her towards one of the derelict buildings that littered these streets around the Colosseum. "Please..." She said, muffled against the cloth - she wasn't sure if it was even intelligible, let alone if he heard her. She thrashed out again, her heart hammering harder than it ever had before against her ribs, in her throat, in her temple. Please, I don't want to die.

 

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He hadn't planned to do anything yet, he had thought he'd wait until dark, but this was an opportunity it would be stupid to miss out on. Especially since he missed out on this one before! Maybe Saturn did pay attention to him. The god of plenty. Well plenty of blood in this case. Her hair was so soft. Her skin so smooth and pale. She tried to scream, but couldn't and he quickly began pulling her away from the street, careful to look around him to make sure no one were watching. But the grey day and the grey light helped him out and he held her tight, when she lashed out in his grasp. She tried to say something.

"I said... be quiet!" Marcus hissed angrily at her. He had his left arm around her body, around both arms, his hand holding onto her right arm and he dug his nails in there, to hurt her, to make his point clear. He wasn't sure it was enough though, so luckily he recalled what he did last night, "If you try to scream, I'll cut out your tongue." 

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His nails stung against her arms and she felt tears already begin to spill from her eyes over onto the cloth covering her mouth. She always cried - when she was upset, when she was frustrated, when she was angry and now when she was scared. She'd heard stories from when she was younger of citizens being stolen and sold into slavery. Was that what was happening? Or was it much, much worse? 

She nodded mutely against his hands and allowed herself to be dragged off the street, away from Luisa if she had bothered to glance back. It had happened so quickly, in the space of a minute she had gone from daydreaming over the first night of Saturnalia and worrying about the burned out shell of her families kitchen to being in the clutches of a man who wanted to do Gods knew what. She started crying harder. 

 

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She was trembling in his arms. She was crying. Why did they always have to cry? Or not always, but often. Especially the women. He hated crying women. Not for the same reasons as many men hated them, they didn't know how to handle the women's feelings. Marcus didn't either, but he also wasn't trying to. They were just difficult to handle sometimes, when they were crying. Especially if they got hysterical. He hated that. Then he had to stop them. 

At least she nodded when he threatened her and she allowed him to drag her away. It was perfect. Except for the tears. Well he'd have to deal. Though he did prefer to see blood streaming rather than tears. He'd get there. First to get off the street, because no Romans would understand this. The shacks weren't that far away now. He kicked open a door and looked in... it was empty, "Remember what I told you. Don't. Scream." Marcus said and threw her inside. It was always easy when they didn't fight, but if he wanted that, he'd go to the Elysium. Sometimes the struggle made him want to hurt them more. Made it feel better to him. How to approach her though? He looked her over. Dark hair, perfect skin. Imagine that together. A plan was taking shape, as he stood there, looking at her, blocking the only way out.

Since they were alone and she was already so frightened, why not be honest with her from the start? "I'm going to hurt you. If you let me, it'll be easier for us both. If you don't... it will hurt more." And if she struggled too much, she'd die. It happened before. It could happen again. But he wasn't here to kill her, just make her bleed. He reached into his bag to find a knife, not taking his eyes off of her though. He wasn't stupid.

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She tumbled into the shack and put her hands out, colliding with the wall to stop herself from falling. At least there was some distance between them now. But there were no windows in here, just the door. The door he was standing in front of. She felt her breath quicken, struggling to breathe. She was going to die. She was going to die here. Alone. Scared. Oh Gods, oh Gods. 

She was still crying but she heard him now. "Please..." She started but she watched with wide, panicked eyes as he reached into his bag. She remembered the knife from last time. Maybe somebody had seen her? Maybe somebody was coming to the door right that second and and would kick it down and fish her out? Maybe the vigiles would start their patrol early? She backed herself up until she was against the wall, keeping her arms oustretched in front of her in defence. "Please...I'm...I'm important, my father is important, he's a judge he....I have gold. Lots." She removed one of her hands from their stance and tried to fumble desperately with the coin purse at her belt. She managed to undo it and threw it at his feet. 

 

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  • Sara changed the title to Another Time Then [M - V]

As he watched her break her fall and then back up against the wall, he couldn't help but smile and he felt his heartbeat quicken. Was this going to be more than just blood? She wasn't a prostitute though. She was a noble lady. He could tell by her clothes. And the way she cried, like this sort of thing just never happened to a girl like her, but now it did and she could barely grasp it. She tried to beg him and made up excuses for why he should not hurt her.

"I don't want your gold." He said and kicked the purse away. It was a pity that the door was now broken. He could not close it behind him. Should he tie her up, just to make sure she'd stay put? She wasn't drunk and passed out, like people had been last night. She was going to struggle, even when he told her not to, he knew that. He fished the knife out of the bag, it glistened in the faint light.

"I won't change my mind. I want to hurt you." He wanted to approach her, but had to wait. He would block the door until he didn't need to. She wore a belt. He could use that, "Remove your belt and throw it to me." 

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Ovinia made a gasping, pained sound as he kicked her gold away. What sort of criminal didn't want the money? Surely he knew how dangerous this position was for him? Surely he should take her money and run. Luisa would realise she was gone by now, wouldn't she? She would be found. Somebody would find her. 

But for now she was here and he was staring at her, the glint of his knife catching off the dull grey remains of sunlight from outside the broken door. She opened her mouth to scream but then shut it again. He asked her not too. Ovinia had always followed the rules...or mostly...followed the rules. She'd have to now as well, she figured, if she had any chance of survival. 

She nodded mutely, eyes darting between is knife and the door but her fingers trembled and worked at the thin braided belt she wore over her chiton, under her palla. It took her a few attempts to undo it, her fingers kept slipping. When she finally pulled it free, she threw it towards him and then recoiled against the wall of the hut - eyes still fixed on his knife and the door behind him. It would take her only a few moments. She could try and run for it. Her palla was weighing her down though...

"W-what's your name?" She asked, eyes scanning him. "I-I'm Ovinia." get him talking Ovinia...get him distracted...

 

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Oh he loved the way she looked at his knife. So frightened as she stood there against the wall, as far from him as she could get, but not far enough now. She'd gasped when he kicked the purse away. Well he had his shop, why would he need her gold? That was not why he was here! That's not why she was here! Stupid girl. She didn't get a thing, did she? Well at least she understood to remove her belt, although he almost grew impatient. Almost wanted to yell at her for it. They had now, but they did not have eons of time either. He wasn't at home with his slaves. 

She kept looking towards the door, even as she threw the belt to him. He crouched down to pick it up, ignoring her words, "Turn around, face the wall, with your hands on your back." Marcus then ordered, she seemed to follow orders well. She didn't scream, she removed the belt when he asked her to. Almost like a little slave. Maybe he should take her home. Then he could do whatever he pleased to her. She'd bleed so much then. So much. He felt a sensation in his body, thinking about that. For now though, he waited for her to do as told. If she did, he could approach her and tie her up.

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If she turned around and put her hands behind her it would be over, she knew that. He said he'd hurt her. He said he didn't want her money. She shouldn't have removed her belt. That's not what Alexius would have done. Or Lucius. But she wasn't over six foot and muscled. She vaguely knew how to throw a punch but didn't know where to aim it. She felt her heart hit against her ribs, or it felt like it anyway and her chest ached. She glanced to the door again, to his side. If she turned round, what if he slit her throat? What if he...? That would be worse than death. At least if she was dead she wouldn't suffer his hands on her...

She nodded and dropped her hands. "Okay...okay..." She took a deep breath and made to almost turn but before she did she sprung on her heel and made towards the door instead. She'd have to knock into him, but was banking on surprise more than anything and she almost made it. She reached out her hand, clawing for the door and opened her mouth to scream; "HELP!" 

 

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It took way too long for her to give into his orders this time. But she'd been so good until now! Why be different now? It made no sense. But then she did nod and said she'd do it. Though before he knew it, she suddenly sprung towards the door, right into him, knocking him over as he yelled... but on the way, he reached out for her to take her down as he fell too. It fucking hurt, but he had no time to consider that, because she managed to scream for help, "I thought I told you not to do that!" He spat angrily while trying to use the momentum to switch them over, so she'd be beneath him. He stretched out, using his body to keep her down. She was so warm underneath him. That would be her blood. Gods, her blood. So warm. He still had the knife in his hand, he knew how to hold onto that when they struggled. He pushed it against her side, "I'll have to take your tongue then." 

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She had been so close. The door was in a fingers reach but...it felt like an eternity away because before she could do anything or say one more word, she was on her back and the man was above her. She let out an anguished sob, tears spilling down over her cheeks and onto the packed dirt floor beneath her.

"N-no," She choked out, gasping and shaking her head. She felt the knife against her side and the burning pain as it managed to cut her as she trembled. It was only a little though, the blade was caught in the folds of her palla and her chiton. "N-no, no I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry no...please..." She was begging. It was pathetic. If she lost her tongue...he might as well kill her. It would be better to be dead. She groped out one of her hands, the one that had been burned only a few nights ago and found the cord that had been her belt. She held it up compliantly. "Please...here." She was handing a restraint to him on a silver platter but...better that than lose her tongue. Maybe he'd be merciful? Please Gods...either way, get this over with. 

 

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Stupid girl, she thought she could just escape him like that? And if she got out, how was she to run in those skirts? He'd just catch up again. And he had promised her that it would hurt more if she didn't allow him to hurt her. And she didn't. And she even screamed for help. He hoped that no one heard her! But he had her now and he'd keep his promise from earlier, he'd cut out her tongue for screaming like that. She sobbed, tears fell from her pretty eyes and she apologized. He made her feel the knife and she trembled. Something tingled inside of him. He wanted more of that. More! 

Then she began fumbling and apparently reached for the belt she tossed him. She gave it to him. Pleaded with him. Could he trust her? He could try. And if she failed him again, he knew what to do.

"If you scream again, I will do it." Marcus then said and carefully got off of her, but he took hold of her one arm, to make sure she didn't run. He pulled her up too, turned her to face a wall and bound her hands on her back. Then he removed her palla and a small smile spread again, more of that pretty skin. She put up a fight though, just before. Not that he disliked it. Her struggling would just give him a greater satisfaction once he cut her. He knew himself that well at least... he moved her hair from the one side of her neck and leaned close her ear again, "Don't run, don't scream, don't fight. If you're good, I won't kill you." This was so much better than last night! 

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She'd bought some time, but it was gone in an instant and she nodded mutely, breathlessly. He seemed to mean it. She meant it when she thought it before; death would be preferable than a life without a tongue. Maybe death would also be preferable to a life if he dishonoured her? She choked as she was yanked to her feet and then thrust against the wall. She felt the fine cord from her belt wrap around her hands. Her breath was hot and wet against the walls and her tears were clouding her eyes. 

She choked and her tears came harder and hotter as he yanked off her palla. "Please..." She said in almost a whisper, misjudging what he wanted from her. Alexius had said some forced others. Was that what was happening? Would it be better if she told him she hadn't...? Or would that make it a more likely outcome? Thoughts swirled in her head and she felt dizzy. Please somebody save me. She choked again as he moved her hair and pressed her face into the wall, trying to get away from him. She nodded in jerky movements at his instruction and held her breath, coming to a moment of clarity. If he touched her, is he dishonoured her, she'd scream. Maybe then he'd slit her throat and it would be over. 

"W-why are you doing this?" 

 

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He hoped she didn't assume he wouldn't keep his promises, since she screamed and he didn't cut out her tongue yet. He gave into her pleas and hoped he was not a fool. He'd still cut her though, hurt her. Make her cry more. If he could. He'd thrust her against the wall and tied her hands by the wrists. Meanwhile she kept trembling and sobbing, even more when he removed her palla. She begged again. But he just ordered her to do as he said and then he'd not kill her. It had happened before, after all, that he had not planned to kill someone and he did it anyway. Like that stupid girl near the stables. She'd struggled too much, been too annoying. It was hard to just... do what he wanted with her. She died because of it. 

"Because I want to." Marcus simply replied and turned her around again to face him. Leaning her back against the wall. At least in the daylight he'd be able to see the blood properly. He looked her over. She had such a pretty face. He fetched his knife again, he'd stuck it into his belt while he tied her hands. His eyes ran down over her body again and he noticed a bit of bloody cloth from her dress. He cut her before, when he was on top of her? He hadn't realized! There was a small hole in the dress and with the knife, he easily widened the gap of it. The wound was small though and with his fingers, he touched it. It was already barely bleeding anymore. But it could do so again. At least, if she was going to live, such a girl might be pleased it wasn't a very visible place she'd scar? He looked up at her, "Remember your orders? Repeat what I said you shouldn't do." 

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She kept her eyes on his face - watery though her vision was - as he pulled her around to face him. She tried her best to memorise every inch of it, should there be a scenario where she walked out of this place alive. It seemed though that, that scenario was dimming like the sun. She kept her eyes on his face even as his own gaze travelled the length of her figure and she squirmed involuntarily. It felt violating, even if that was not his aim. 

She sucked in a breath as he raised the knife to the small cut at the curve where her waist met her hips, and pulled apart the seam of her chiton where there was already the smallest of holes. She shuddered under the touch of his fingers and arched her back, as if trying to get away from it, from him. Tears still spilled over her cheeks but she tried her best to look resolute as he looked up at her. "I-I shouldn't r-un, scream or f-fight." She repeated in a hoarse voice. Her eyes flicked down to the knife he was holding in his hand. What was he waiting for? Her to beg? She'd already done that... "Or you'll kill me." She added the last bit in a whisper, eyes still on the knife.

 

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He didn't look over her body because he wanted to violate her. Not like that anyway. He didn't want her for her body. He wanted her for what he could do to her, for how he could hurt her and make her bleed. Gods he wanted that so much! He noticed how she sucked in a breath when he neared the wound he'd already made, and she tried to inch away from his touch, but it was inevitable. He inhaled a breath, he wanted to cut her. He had to! She was a stupid girl who already escaped him once, and she'd been bad today too, by promising she'd not scream for help and then she did. Stupid. 

Just in case, he made her repeat his words. At least she paid attention. She looked at his knife as she added the last bit. Marcus nodded, "Good. I'm glad you understand." Marcus said then. It was a pity the first wound was so low on her body though. He trailed the knife up over her body, trying to decide what to do. He wanted to do all of it, now. Ignoring her tears, the knife finally returned to the small healing wound slightly above her left hip - and then without warning, he pressed the tip of the blade deeper into it, making her bleed again. If she winced, if she did anything, he'd cut it larger. Or maybe she'd be the one causing the larger cut, because she moved. He didn't look at her though, he looked at the wound. And the blood. So beautiful, so warm, so glistening in the faint light.

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She was shaking as the knife was dragged over her skin. She didn't understand. He seemed to almost be taking his time, as if deciding which portion of meat to take for himself at cena. She made a mumbled sound of protest and fear and then pressed her lips tightly together. She didn't want to die. He said he wouldn't kill her. Was that stupid to believe him? 

Yes. It was stupid. That was answered almost immediately as she felt the tip of the knife sink into her skin. Her body jerked in reaction to the stab and it tore up a little higher. She didn't think she'd ever felt pain like it. She let out a choked sound of protest and tried to flatten her back against the wall, to get the knife out of her. She glanced down. He'd ripped a hole in her chiton over her hipbone and stomach and she saw the blood drip, drip, drip down her skin and to the floor. 

He doesn't want my money. He doesn't want to rape me. He wants me to suffer. Oh my gods I'm going to die. 

She was feeling breathless, her chest rising and falling as she strained minutely, covertly against the belt around her wrists - back still pressed firmly to the wall - trying to get away from the knife still in her hip. "S-stop." She choked, "I don't want to die, I don't want to die..." Her wrists were burning as she tried to wriggle them out, to no avail. It was natural to panic, and panic she did. 

 

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He didn't want to eat her! He wasn't a cannibal! He just wanted to see the blood. Look at it. See the blood and her reaction to the pain. That's what he wanted. That was his obsession. And since he began actually giving into it, he never looked back and stopped. This year it had even grown, it seemed. Ever since he killed that girl last year. It was like he couldn't get enough and that's why he had been feeling so good during this Saturnalia time. He'd really given in. And now even in almost broad daylight. 

He ignored the way she was shaking and crying when his knife traced over her body. Then he drove the blade into the wound he already started. Her body jerked. The knife made a larger cut. It was in a little bit, maybe a few millimeters, nothing more, but it was enough. There was a choked sound from her, as she tried to pull away and Marcus was just looking at the blood. He withdrew the knife, the blood caused a larger stain on the cloth of her chiton and the blood trickled down underneath it, all the way to the floor. He reached out to hike up her dress, he wanted to touch the blood on her leg, but then she began talking. He inhaled a sharp, annoyed breath.

"Then do as you're told." He just snapped back, but he didn't look up at her face, "Then you won't!" Was she really dull or something? 

He continued his plan. He took a handful of the fabric of her chiton in his hand and gathered more, until it went up to her thigh. His free hand, the one that held the knife, reached out towards it. With his thumb, he smeared out the blood. Made a shape. Just a random shape. He could barely stand it. Gods! He took a long and deep breath again, trying to control himself just a bit. Then he looked up at her, "Tell me what it feels like." 

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She inhaled a breath as he snapped back at her and flattened herself against the wall as much as she could, but it meant she couldn't continue to try and unbind her hands. Not that she was making much progress anyway, and the tone of his voice suggested she shouldn't even bother. If he realised what she was doing, she'd be dead. Dead and alone, or dying and bleeding out in an abandoned workers shack, tied up like some slave, maybe never to be found. 

She whimpered as he grabbed her chiton and hiked it up, turning her face to the side, looking anywhere but him or his face or his knife. Maybe it would be better not to see it, maybe it would make it hurt less. But her not looking at him made her jump in surprise as his fingers touched her leg. Nobody had ever touched her like this. She could feel the stickiness of the blood. She felt bile rise in her throat. 

"It burns." She choked out, "And stings. I...It hurts." it felt like nothing she'd experienced before and she didn't know how to describe it, but if he wanted to hurt her he'd succeeded. "Y-ou've hurt me," She choked out, "You've got what you wanted. Please..." That's enough. Please. Gently, trying not to make it obvious, she resumed trying to undo the binds around her wrists. Careful, Ovinia.

 

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He didn’t know she had been trying to unbind her hands, which was probably lucky for her. Then he’d know she wanted to run. And that wouldn’t be good for her. See, it wasn’t so bad when she just did as told. She became quiet again, but just for a moment, because then he hiked up her chiton and she whimpered by it. He didn’t look at her face, just as she did not look at his. No, his eyes were on her thigh with the blood and he touched it, smeared it out, fascinated by the warmth and the stickiness of it. The color. Everything.

 It really was almost more than what he could stand. He almost wanted to… use it for more. Do more. Take her home and have his fun and then get rid of her in the piles of garbage outside of Rome. He'd dug down bodies there before. But he just needed to cut her, that’s all. He had to try and regain his senses, so he looked at her, asked her to tell him about the pain. That’s what he meant anyway. And she told him how it hurt, it stung, it burnt… she then begged.

 “Please what? Not hurt you anymore?” He asked to her face, then he smiled a little again, “But I want to.” And so he would. He turned her around again, so her front faced the wall and he had her backside to him. He moved her hair away from her neck and her back and placed a hand on the back of her head, to keep her in place. Just one more. Just one… he yanked the chiton down a bit on her back, planning to cut her again by her right scapula.

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She nodded with gulping breaths, convinced for a moment that he might actually listen to her, that he might actually stop. But he didn't. He smiled instead. She felt herself grow cold and the tears started spilling again down her cheeks. Her hip throbbed, burning and she felt the blood drip down her thigh. She wanted to scream but that look on his face told her not too and before she could even think, she was spun around again like a doll, face and chest pushed into the wall. 

She made a sound of protest, but the noise was smothered by the wall and she felt herself grow breathless, struggling to draw in enough air. His hand was on her head and she squirmed under his touch but had stopped trying to free her hands; he'd feel it if she did - pressed against his stomach as it was. She whimpered as her chiton was tugged down, not understanding. Was he trying to violate her? Was he trying to kill her, and just couldn't look her in the eyes as he did it? She mewled again in pain and anxiety, struggling to breathe against the wall. She felt the knife against her back and choked. If he pushed the whole length in, would it hit her heart? Was this how it ended? 

 

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This one was crying a lot, wasn't she? Irritating. And why? Would it do her any good? It didn't. But he cut her front and he wanted to cut her again... but her sobs and her tears were tiring, so he turned her around. She made a sound, but didn't struggle, didn't scream. Good girl. She was almost like a dog now, she followed orders. Almost better than his own slaves. Maybe he should take her home. It was very tempting. He heard her whimper then, as he tugged down her chiton, but ignored it. Not long after, he pushed the knife into her again, in the soft flesh just above the scapula. He didn't push it all in, because he didn't want to stab her, he wanted to cut her. A long wound, more blood at once. And there it was, it trickled out of the line he cut and began flowing down over her skin, several red lines of blood against the pale surface.

He made a little sound by the sight of it, this, this was perfect! Better than the other one. He yanked the chiton down more, to see better. Pressed against her body, looking at the blood, he almost wanted to continue the deed, fuck her while she was bleeding, like he did it with the whores at Elysium. He was already hard for it. But then he might have to kill her. He didn't want a bastard kid running around in Rome. Especially not to a crying, stupid woman like her. All he'd wanted with her was the blood. He had to focus on that. Focus!

It was beautiful. Look at the perfect lines of red blood...

He fought an inner battle then, to not touch the blood, instead he'd just watch it. He forgot everything about her. The blood was everything right now.

@Sara

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She screamed through her teeth, not loud, but a hissing, groaning noise as he sliced at her skin. She could feel the point of the knife dragged down her shoulder blade. It felt like he was dragging it forever, but it couldn't have been more than a few inches. She felt the warm trails of blood snake down her skin almost immediately. This one was longer and felt deeper than the wound at her hip, but she couldn't be sure. It had happened with no warning and she felt herself tremble more.

She felt him against her and choked into the wall, trying to draw in enough breath but it felt like a losing battle. She started to squirm, wringing her wrists to try and get out of the belt. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe with him pressed so firmly against her, her face pressed into the wall, the blood running down over her skin; she had to get out of here, she had to get out, she couldn't breathe. She moved harder, trying to free her hands, trying to get some space, trying to stop the burning of her shoulder of her hip, of her wrists; "I...I can't breathe, I can't breathe!." she choked as loudly as she could, trembling. She felt her vision dim and her legs lose their strength. She sagged against him. How much blood had she lost? 

 

TAG: @Atrice

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