The damp chill of Tullianum clings to my skin. Rome, 273 AD. Chained in this pit under the Capitole, I await the blade. Emperor Aurelian’s rage seals my fate—marriages blessed against his decree, Christianity whispered in shadows. But desire stirs hotter than fear.
Julia enters. Blind since birth, daughter of the jailer. Her footsteps echo soft in the black void. She brings bread, water. Her voice trembles, innocent. ‘Father says you’re the miracle-maker.’ I smile in darkness. Heart pounds. Vows of chastity? Forgotten in Lupercalia’s fevered memories—couples rutting for Faunus, flesh whipping free.
The Awakening in Chains
‘Tell me the world,’ she begs. I paint it: sun on Palatin, crowds cheering Gothicus’s litter, his Nubian slave gulping imperial seed. My cock twitches. Forbidden heat builds. She’s close, scent of youth—sweat, unwashed tunic. Pulse races. Transgression calls. Society’s eyes blind here. No gods judge in this hole.
‘Julia, I hold the elixir. Cures all. Even your eyes.’ She gasps. Kneels eager. Excitement surges—thick, urgent. I stand, hike my tunic. My prick springs free, long shaft veined, hood peeled back. Fat purple head throbs, already leaking slime.
Her breath quickens. I grip her neck, guide her. ‘Open wide, girl. Suck like mother’s tit.’ Lips part, warm wet cave. She engulfs the tip—soft, hesitant. Cheeks hollow as she pulls. Tongue laps salty bead. Fuck, the suction. Balls tighten.
The Raw Act and Lingering Secret
I thrust shallow. Her mouth stretches, gags soft. Spit dribbles. ‘Deeper, swallow it all.’ She tries, naive slurps echo. Hand on her head, I fuck her face slow. Build it. Gland swells against throat. Her fingers clutch my thighs—clumsy, trusting. Heat coils low. Forbidden bliss—priest’s cock in jailer’s blind daughter.
Sensations explode. Tongue swirls ridge. Lips seal tight, vacuum pull. Pre-cum floods her. She moans, vibrates my meat. Can’t hold. Hips buck. ‘Take the elixir!’ Jets erupt—hot ropes lash her tonsils. She gulps frantic, some spills chin-white. Suck, swallow, milk every drop. Legs shake. Pure release, sin’s rush.
She pulls off, wipes lips. ‘Bitter… but the cure?’ Seconds pass. ‘Light! Colors! I see!’ Placebo? Divine? Her eyes—clear now—lock mine. Miracle born of cum. She flees, amazed.
Door slams. Alone, spent prick softens. Ecstasy lingers—pulse of power, over vows, death. Via Flaminia tomorrow: whips, crowd, blade on neck. Julia’s tear-streaked face last sight. But this? My secret fire. Transgressed in shadows, rutted against empire’s law. No one knows. Thrill eternal. Society blind, I saw truth in her throat.