Flame Virgin Read online

  Juna felt the trickle of moisture run down her leg as her body remembered the arrival of Bres. She ran her hand over her thigh. “He drove and drove, and soon the pain had lessened, and the burning turned to heat. When he thrust, I parried. He shouted, finally, and I felt as though he would break through me. And then, he rested on top of me.

  “When he had his breath again, he pulled out. He stood, still dressed and armed, and pulled me to my feet. Blood ran down my leg, and he wiped it with his kilt. ‘This is my bounty,’ he said.

  “I was hot with my first arousal, but I didn’t know how to proceed. He did. ‘Take me to your pallet,’ he said, “and bring me wine.” I bent to retrieve my gown, but he stayed my hand. Nude, I walked before him, taking him to my little room. As I walked, I felt his eyes on me, but he did not touch me. I fetched the wine, and two goblets. He filled them both, and we drank.

  “‘Now, Juna, let me enjoy you again,’ he said. This time, he took wine and poured it between my legs. It stung a little, then its warmth began to tingle. He stroked me long, touching my intimate body knowingly, as I began to dance with delight under his hand. Then he took my nipple into his mouth, and after the initial sensation wore off, he bit softly, then harder, sending waves of intensity into my core.

  “He lowered his mouth to my mound, and touching the sensitive button with his tongue, his lips, his teeth, he drove me into a frenzy he would not release. His fingers entered me, and I writhed around them. Again he retreated, and returned to my other nipple.

  “When I felt I could no longer stand it, he rose. ‘Get on your hands and knees,’ he commanded. I obeyed. Kneeling behind me, he entered me once more. This time the pain was slight, the pleasure great. His hands came around the front of me, one hand on the pleasure center, the other grasping my breast. As he thrust, he pressed into my body from either side.

  “I cried out, tried to escape the mounting pressure of pleasure, and he pressed harder. He pinched my nipple, and countered each movement of mine with a harder one of his. Finally, I could bear it no longer. My bottom rose, my legs clenched around his thighs, and I arched into his body as the trembling, throbbing release rushed through me.

  “I thought he would stop then, but he didn’t. He continued, hard and firm, though I begged him to cease, to let me breathe. And then it started again, this time from within, until I could not control the bucking, arching power of my own pleasure.

  “He responded in kind, and slammed into me, until his own release came. Finally, finally, we rested.”

  Juna stopped, breathless and stunned. What on earth had made her tell this tribunal the intimate details of her first night of love? How had she been stripped of that memory by that sharing, allowing her enemies to enjoy her most powerful, personal moment? Tears came into her eyes, but not so that she couldn’t see the obvious arousal on the faces of her judges.

  No one spoke. The chief judge took a ragged breath. “Juna, you claim you were visited by Bres. How do you know it was he?”

  “I know. I know he was Bridget’s husband, I have lived her life, tended her fire for twenty-five years. I know.”

  “Are you with child?” the law-keeper asked.

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t blessed.”

  “Liar!” The woman in the rose-colored gown’s voice rent the air. “If it had been Bres, you would be pregnant. You lie, either way.” The blond woman’s face was suffused with the same color as her dress, her small eyes burning with hate.

  It came to Juna in a flash. The woman was Maia, mother of Callet, the girl Juna could not teach. Callet was mulish, uncooperative and jealous of the other girls, and Juna had finally dismissed her from training as a flame-keeper. It was Callet who had seen her with Bres, the last night that he had come to her.

  Bres had come to her every night for a week, his lovemaking tender and pure. She had known he wouldn’t stay, this was not a permanent liaison, but she was prepared to be satisfied with his love, where and how he gave it. After all, he was not of this time, and could not be bound by earthly needs.

  On the last night, their love had been particularly tender. He had kissed Juna, held her close. A shadow had flitted across the flames. Juna turned, but it had vanished. In its place, there was a card, a picture of a man, arms raised in victory. At his feet were the swords of his adversaries, five men kneeling behind their weapons.

  She had picked up the card and studied it. It meant nothing to her, she did not understand the cards, but looking at it made her sick in her stomach. She tossed it in the fire, and watched it burn.

  When she turned to Bres, he was gone. She could hear, in the distance, the pounding of hooves. Next to her was a bouquet of flowers, and she heard his voice in her ear. “I will return for you. Be strong, be brave, submit, and wait.”

  “She isn’t with child,” said the flame-tender softly, interrupting her memory. “I know this by looking at her. But she has dishonored her sacred trust, whether she was, as she claims, visited by a spirit, or by an ordinary man. Either she is true to her vow, or she dies.” Her beautiful face looked so sad, as if the sentence were out of her hands.

  The men nodded. Coming from such a beautiful, devout woman, the sentence seemed reasonable. And Juna showed no remorse.

  “But in olden times, when Bridget lived, she, as well as her peers, mated freely,” Juna said. “A union between a man and a woman was a joyful event. Why not now?”

  “This is now, in today’s era, and not the ancient times,” the flame-keeper answered. “If you disagree with the law, you are by that very act unworthy of your post.”

  “By today’s laws, you should not even be speaking!” Juna snapped back.

  “Quiet, whore!” said the chief. “I have heard enough from you. You hold your life lightly. I would not do so. Let her live,” he said, to the others on the tribunal. “Let her live to rue her belligerence, her arrogance, her immorality. I sentence you,” he said to Juna, and paused. He whispered to the law-keeper, who shook his head.

  “I sentence you to service for the remaining time of your vow, five years. And your service will be first, for your initiation, to Maia.” He looked at the woman in the rose dress, whose piggish eyes looked at him with delight. “When you have given Maia satisfaction, you will be released to the commanding officer of the guards. Guard!” he said to the man who had brought her in. “Are you prepared to take charge of Juna, have her serve you and your officers for the time left of her sentence?”

  The guard nodded. “Judge, as the Commander of the guards, I undertake full responsibility for this woman, as soon as she gives satisfactory service to Maia. Though I fear I may be long in waiting for the day I take her, given her pride and lack of humility. Maia may find her initiation training arduous. If so, I will offer to take her early.”

  “No,” said Maia, sweeping back her blonde hair, “I think I will find a way to break this pride. And I will enjoy every moment of it. Juna!” she said, turning to her new slave. Juna shivered. Once again, she was cold. “Remove that ugly shift.”

  Juna stood still. She had to obey, to strip in front of everyone, at Maia’s command.

  The young, handsome judge licked his full lips, and smiled at Juna. “You couldn’t wait five more years to spread your legs, you trollop!” He laughed. “Well, your impatience is well coupled with your arrogance, isn’t it? You could have served me,” he said, “if you had been a bit more humble. I could certainly have harnessed the fire from that heated little furnace between your thighs.”

  Maia preened at the young judge. “I am vindicated, I told you I would be!” she said. “I am victorious. Seamus, she is mine, not yours.”

  “I will certainly enjoy her initiation, even if I cannot script it,” the young judge drawled. Turning back to Juna he added, “Maia, I think, will be a far harsher task-mistress.”

  “You will see how much more inventive I can be!” Maia smirked to him. “Now, Juna! Strip!” she added harshly.

  The meaning of Bres’ warning c
ame clear. Juna closed her eyes, reached for her hem, and pulled her shift over her head.

  TWO

  The walk back to her cell was long. She was handcuffed now, bare, with her hands behind her, and the guard clearly felt no need to watch her, as he let her walk behind him. She followed, eyes cast to the ground, unable to think, care, or even suffer. Her shift had been left in the tribunal room, unneeded now that her sentence had been pronounced and she had entered service. A slave was dressed by her mistress, as and when she saw fit. Maia did not see fit to dress Juna at all.

  “You will stay here until I get you,” the guard said, opening the cell door for her. “When I come for you, it will be to take you to the punishment room for your initiation. And Juna,” he said, his hand on her shoulder as he guided her into the cell, “think on your pride. There are times when you cannot argue, times when you cannot win. If you can accept your punishment humbly, you will be mine sooner than later. You will suffer less, I assure you, as my slave, than as Maia’s.”

  “Take these handcuffs off,” Juna said. “I can’t go anywhere, so why do we need these?”

  “Maia has ordered you naked and cuffed until she chooses otherwise. Please, Juna, stop arguing.”

  “Why are you being kind? Why were you kind before, then pushed me into the tribunal room?” Juna demanded.

  The guard shook his head. “You have a lot to learn, Juna. You have been given vision to see and feel Bres, when others can only see a man, but you are blind to all but your own mind. Look, look into yourself, and look around you. I will be back for you. Be ready.”

  Juna watched the door close. She sank to the dirt floor, cold and miserable. The cuffs were uncomfortable, and her inability to use her hands to wipe her tears, to hold herself close, to defend herself, made her helplessness intolerable. She would scream, she would curse, she would howl invective at those who brought her down, before she would submit to this outrage.

  Juna sobbed, alone and cold, until she fell asleep. When the guard returned for her, it was night. “Get up, Juna, it’s time,” he said. She looked up at him, her hair tangled, her face dirty from crying and lying on the ground, her body sore from being handcuffed. He reached down and pulled her up by an arm.

  “You look properly chastened,” he said. “Maybe you can get through this.”

  “I’m not chastened!” Juna answered. “I’m right, they’re wrong. Maia is getting revenge because I rejected her spoiled daughter. Callet could never keep Bridget’s flame!”

  “No. But you didn’t keep your vow; you let yourself be betrayed. Now you must go through the fire, to be tested. Don’t argue. Submit and be made stronger.”

  “Bridget was a Celtic priestess,” Juna said. “Only when the vile Romans came was she converted. They were the ones who tarnished her history, made her chattel. She was a proud woman, in her own right. She mated, not just with Bres, but with whomever she chose.

  “Her keepers of the flame were joyful, lusty creatures. Only the Romans made them virgins. I am a Celt. You are a Celt. I will not be subverted!”

  “Juna, for the last time, submit. There are times when you can’t win. Only your submission will save you.” The guard stroked her cheek. “I am trying to save you.”

  And then Juna saw it. The guard slowly took on the shape of a golden horse, with a flowing red mane, his eyes wild. And then he was the guard again. He put his hands on her shoulders, kneaded the soreness there, his callused, warm palms gently taking the pain away.

  His hands lowered to her breasts. He rubbed them, warmed them, teased her nipples erect. She felt his warmth, his hard fingers, sending tiny, almost imperceptible hope into her body. She could smell the grass, the fields, the open sunny sky, for a moment, before the reality of the cell closed around her.

  She pulled away. He would only betray her, as he had earlier. “No, Juna, don’t pull away. You are helpless, and I can do with you what I will. Trust me instead.”

  To prove his point, his hands dropped to her mound, in front, and her buttocks behind, and he pushed his hands between her thighs until they met at her sex. Fingers from both front and back plunged into her slit, then out. And again, until in spite of the ice in her heart, her labia were hot and wet. She could not stop him, direct him, or in any way control what he chose to do. He pulled his hands away. “Yield when you can’t fight. You will fight better that way.”

  He moved to the door of the cell. His many weapons clanged around him. Again he stopped. “Juna, you must yield. I will not help you learn this lesson, but when you have learned it, you will be mine forever.”

  He put her in front of him, as he had done the first time he had led her out, and pressed her lightly forward. When she was a few steps ahead of him, he ran his fingers lightly across her curving cheeks.

  THREE

  Juna heard the sounds before she reached the door. There was music, the sounds of goblets clinking against each other, laughter. She stood before the closed door. “Maia ordered you brought as I found you. She did not ask that you be cleaned, oiled, or decorated for your initiation. She is a cruel woman, Maia.”

  “Thank you for such encouragement,” Juna said to the guard, her voice cold. “Your words give so much confidence; they make me feel so ready for my punishment.”

  The guard smiled at her. “You are incorrigible. Your spirit is compelling, but you will pay for your arrogance. Get through it, Juna. When you are brought to serve me and my officers your service will be unrelenting, but I promise you beautiful clothing, oils, scents and powders. But for now, I am only an eager audience to your trials. Get through it.”

  He opened the door to a large room full of people. The air was thick with smoke from burning candles, the aromas of sweat, wine, and scents. There were tables of food, vessels of wine and mead, chairs, lounges, and a platform stage at one end of the room. It was a shocking scene of depredation and debauchery. Juna recoiled at the sight of so many people engaged in drinking, singing, and fondling the naked slaves that mingled with the crowd.

  Three men, finely dressed, held large goblets of wine in one hand, while swinging crops against the writhing bottom of a naked woman. She was held down on a table by other slaves. The male slaves were in loincloths, with oiled chests and heavy gold collars with chains that attached to their ankles, hobbling them while leaving their hands free to serve. Their loincloths did little to disguise the pleasure they took in their service.

  A well-oiled male slave was bent over behind a woman set up as his table. She was on her knees, her face on the ground, and rump up high, and she was naked but for the manacles that bound each of her hands to an ankle. Her knees were spread. His penis, erect and throbbing, rubbed between the slave-woman’s buttocks, but did not enter her. Behind him, a woman in a gown of sparkling silver laughed as she wielded a matching silver dildo in the male’s bottom. He was not manacled or bound, and he moaned as he grasped the breasts of the woman beneath him, and thrust between her cheeks as the dildo thrust into him.

  In a far corner, Juna was amazed to see a well-dressed woman lift her voluminous skirts over her head, and several finely arrayed men crawl beneath them. The woman then dropped her skirts over them, and reached for a goblet of wine. Other women in finery cheered her on as she drank her cup down, and handed her another. A third stood waiting, cup in hand, as the woman began to wriggle with what was going on under her dress.

  Juna looked away, disgusted. Ten days ago, she had been a virgin. Now she was faced with such degradation as she had never imagined. And she was naked, cuffed, and about to become the object of these horrifying displays.

  The guard bent to Juna’s ear. “Maia is at the farthest end of the room. See her?” His breath in her ear made her shiver, and her nipples became erect.

  Juna was tall, and could see across the room easily. She looked, and nodded. Maia stood as far from the door as possible, a wine goblet in her hand, her fair cheeks flushed. Her blonde hair was coiffed with jewels, her gown a glorious blue with silve
r stars. She was talking with Seamus, the young male judge. Her body moved coquettishly against the cruel-looking man with the blue hat who had lasciviously suggested that Juna be his slave. He in turn touched Maia’s breasts, his fingers trailing over her nipples with a look of haughty amusement, while his eyes strayed around the room.

  His eyes met Juna’s and he smiled his rapacious smile. He said something to Maia, who glared at him. In response, he dropped his hand and pinched Maia’s bottom. She jumped, and he laughed out loud, his eyes still on Juna. Maia’s withering look at the judge spoke volumes of fury, and bode ill for Juna’s treatment at her hands.

  Maia raised her hand, and signaled to the guard to send Juna to her. Her lip curled as she watched her victim approach. At the same time, the young judge climbed to a platform. He banged a large gong and the room fell silent.

  “Ladies, Gentlemen, silence please. For tonight’s entertainment I am delighted to announce that Maia has acquired the rights to punish a rebellious, lustful flame keeper, and bring her to humble repentance. If you will look to the door, the Commander of the guards has brought Juna, former virgin keeper of Bridget’s flame,” he laughed, with heavy emphasis on the word “former,” and the crowd laughed with him, “to be initiated by her mistress.”

  “And anyone else who wants to help,” he added as all eyes turned to Juna.

  “Come here,” Maia said imperiously. “What are you waiting for?” she demanded. “Are you timid, now, you who were so bold?” She turned to Seamus at his platform, but his eyes were on Juna.

  Juna tried to make her way across the room to her mistress, but was hindered by hands, male and female, free and slave, who reached out to stroke her, pinch her, and one bold man even inserting his hand between her buttocks. Her hands cuffed behind her, Juna could not fend these offenses off, but kicked at her tormentors with her bare feet to push them away. This only heightened their desire to taunt her, though, and further delayed her progress.