Boudica (Ancient Britain, 61 A.D.)

Author's Note: I greatly appreciate the feedback and suggestions we've received since the last chapter, I'm glad readers seem to be enjoying this story as much as I am enjoying writing it. I would love to see some of your suggestions used as other branches for this story, either written by me or someone else. Again, the background of this chapter is based on actual historical events.

The Professor had to admit he was nervous as his presence was announced at the tent of Boudica, Warrior Queen of the Iceni. Even with all of the tech he had brought, if something went wrong and she ordered her guards to kill him or, hell, decided to kill him herself, there was only so much he could do about it. They wouldn’t hesitate to obey her. In fact, her entire tribe would follow her to their deaths in a couple weeks, though not before razing several Roman towns.

He had considered going back to try and influence events depicted in scriptures for existing religions, but then he had come to the realization that which of those events had actually happened was usually fairly questionable according to historians, while the various exact wheres and whens were hotly debated. Plus, they all seemed like they started in the Middle East, and he had just been to Egypt and was pretty sick of the desert heat. In any case, in his opinion it wasn’t the specific stuff that happened in the Bible that spread Christianity across first Europe and then the world, it was the fact that the Emperor Constantine had converted on the eve of the Battle of the Flavian Bridge and made it the state religion of his empire.

But all of that was a problem for another day. What he had needed was an address, a place and time of a real historical event he could fuck with, and also preferably a few hot bitches he could fuck. Which was how he found himself in would would, a couple thousand years later, be referred to as Norfolk, England, in winter, where it was pretty dang cold, Specifically, he was now in the camp of the Iceni, a native Celtic tribe that had several years earlier entered into an alliance with the Roman newcomers. He had ended up controlling one of the Queen’s advisors as he made a trip into the nearby woods to relieve himself. The man was apparently giving him an introduction now.

After some additional discussion, the flap of the enormous tent was pulled aside in front of him. The Professor entered to see a large fire, its smoke billowing up to a hole in the center of the tent’s room. It reminded of one of those Mongolian yurts, but bigger than any he’d ever seen. The walls were covered in elaborate decorations and patterns.

On the other side of the fire, sitting on an elaborately carved wooden throne, sat Queen Boudica. She took his breath away. Her flame-red mane of hair, which Roman historians always made sure to mention even in their accounts of her brutally slaughtering their populace, framed fierce eyes. Like many of her people, her body bore elaborate tattoos that marked her as a warrior and even extended onto her cheeks. She wore a crown fitted with gems, a cape made from furs, and leather pants, along with a leather bra kind of thing around her breasts, though this did little to hide her athletic figure. His changes regarding women’s clothing were already spreading across this world in this time, but they hadn’t reached the far edges of civilization like this yet. But Boudica was showing off her tattoos, he realized. She wanted her visitors to know she was a mighty warrior.

The Professor's introduction completed, the advisor stepped away from the Queen, but remained in the room, as instructed. This would work better with a witness around who could actually write. The Professor noticed there were also still a few armed guards hanging around in the shadows, though, which would make this harder. Oh well, he was nothing if not resourceful.

“Antedrig tells me you are a magician of great power,” Boudica said in a strong, very assured voice. “If only you had come to us a few weeks sooner, perhaps you could have saved my husband from his illness.”

The way she said it caused him to believe that she didn’t think much of that possibility.

“I am more than a magician, my Queen,” I said. “And my God has sent me in your time of greatest need with grave tidings.”

Boudica raised a single eyebrow, very slightly. “Indeed? You are too late, then. My great husband has already died. But his bloodline will live on. He has left a will leaving the Throne of the Iceni in three equal parts, one each to our two daughters, and one to the so-called Emperor in Rome. But Nero is not here, and my daughters may be strong of will and skilled with a blade, but they have only just come of age. So I rule in their stead, for now. Tell your God, whoever he or she may be, that the future of the Iceni is assured.”

The Professor put on his best thundering prophet voice and proclaimed, “The name of my God is Master, and unless they heed His warning, the Iceni will have no future.”

He flung his hands out dramatically, surreptitiously tossing a handful of a gray, sandy substance into the fire in the center of the tent as he did so. The gunpowder set off a decent-sized explosion, causing the guards to rush forward at the sudden ball of flame. But it soon died down, and in the flickering light, it was hard to tell if Boudica had actually been affected at all.

“Speak,” she said. “I would hear the warning of this ‘Master’.”

“The Romans do not recognize your husband’s will,” he told her. “They are blinded by their greed and their disbelief that women might inherit a throne.”

Boudica scoffed. “If they object, let them come. We will tell them what they can do with their rejection. They are weak men, they would not have won their territories in Britannia without our swords at their side.”

“That may be so,” The Professor said, “but they are on their way here now, and I speak the truth when I say that they will arrive in three days and, when you refuse to hand over your kingdom to the Empire, they will not take it well. The Romans will flog you in front of the tribe, then **** your two daughters.”

“How dare you!” the Queen shouted, rising to her feet. “I have seen many charlatans in my time, but none so brazen. Tell me now why I should not strike you down where you stand.”

It was then that he noticed she had been holding a large sword with a heavily bejeweled hilt in her lap. The blade of said sword was now pointed directly at his head. Doing his best to keep his breathing under control, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his iPhone. He flicked it open and pressed the screen once.

The chorus of Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls” blasted out in Boudica’s tent at top volume. The Queen’s head swiveled, trying to find the source of the strange noise, before settling back on The Professor. At the same time, the guards had run forward, but she held up a hand and they stopped on a dime.

“I admit, you are truly a sorcerer,” Boudica said, having to raise her voice to be heard over Freddie Mercury. She sounded as if she was in genuine disbelief. “Please make the sounds cease, Magician.”

The Professor took advantage of the moment when the Queen settled back onto her throne and the guards retreated once again to surreptitiously slip in a pair of noise canceling earbuds, then tapped his phone screen again and the music ended abruptly. What no one else in the tent realized was that he hadn’t pressed “stop,” he had changed his phone to the next track, a recording of another sound he had developed that he called the “Earworm,” which, when played subaudibly, caused any listeners to become slightly more docile and more susceptible to suggestion. Mostly the others didn’t realize that because they didn’t know what any of those words meant, but still.

He didn’t use it much, partly because it only worked as long as the sound was actively playing, and partly because, unlike some of his other gadgets, it didn’t actually do any rewiring of the subject’s brain. Nobody listening to the Earworm would do anything fundamentally against their nature, which he found sometimes inconvenient. But at least for the moment it seemed like the best option.

He watched Boudica’s face slacken, just slightly, the fire in her eyes ebb.

“Please,” she said. “I believe you are channeling the powers of your God, and speak the truth. You must tell me how to prevent this calamity.”

“The Master has revealed the future to me,” he replied. “After you and your daughters are defiled, you and your people will fight back. You will lead a great revolt, sacking town after town. You will even burn Londinium to the ground.”

She smiled at this, if slightly lazily. “Indeed, the Iceni are great warriors. The Romans deserve nothing less for such treachery.”

The Professor shook his head. “But it is not enough. The Iceni cannot stand against the superior tactics and armaments of the Roman legions forever.”

“Tactics,” she chortles derisively. “The Romans hide behind their shields, instead of charging at the enemy like true warriors. It is dishonorable.”

“But very effective,” he pointed out, as you have seen when you have fought on the Romans’ side.”

The Professor knew the usual Boudica would likely not concede this point so easily, but with the Earworm working it’s way through her skull, she seemed to consider his words seriously.

“Your tribe will be crushed,” he continued, “and you will poison yourself to avoid falling back into the hands of your enemies. Of your daughters’ fate, the Master has told me nothing, but I know that the Iceni will disappear completely from this land within a few generations.”

Boudica took this in, with apparent credulity. Then she said, “Your Master would not have sent you with this warning if we could not avoid this fate.”

“Very perceptive, my Queen,” he said with a smile. “The Master promises you that he will save you, your daughters and the Iceni from extinction, if your tribe swears to abide by his decrees.”

“And what does the Master decree?” Boudica still sounded a little skeptical. The Professor supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that she seemed exceptionally strong willed. When he’d field tested the Earworm on a sorority down at the local university, none of them had remained remotely this self-possessed. But at this point there was no way out but through.

“There are a few, but most importantly, the Master decrees that all women are to submit totally to men, and to devote their lives to servicing men in all ways,” he said. “Women are to allow men to dominate them, body and soul. Including you, my Queen.”

She blinked, a little confused. “Wait…” Her eyes caught the light of the fire and she seemed get a little lost in it for a second. Then she shook her head. “I am a Queen. The women of our tribe are warriors, as are the men. What you ask…” She trailed off, seemingly losing track of her sentence.

The Professor took the fact that she had not ordered him executed for his impertinence as an opening and stepped forward. “You are right, you are a Queen. Which means that the greatest honor you can achieve in life is to serve your people, is it not?”

“Yes,” Boudica said softly, staring blankly into the fire again. The Professor noticed her hand was no longer on the hilt of her sword, but instead relaxed and resting against the arm of her chair.

“And the best way to serve your people is to save them from the Romans and allow them to continue to live free, yes?”

“Yes.”

“The Master tells us that women will find freedom through submission,” he told her, stepping closer. “He tells us that the highest and best use of a woman’s body is servicing a man.”

Boudica licked her lips, not meeting his eyes. Then she said, “I serve…no man but my husband…and he is dead.”

Damn, this still wasn’t working, he thought. She might have been the strongest-willed woman he had ever run across. He found himself getting hard at the thought of taming her. It occurred to him then, there was no way the guards weren’t at least as out of it as the Queen was, if he was going to take a risk, this was probably the time. The Earworm drained the hell out of his phone battery, and there weren’t many places to recharge it in the year 61.

The Professor took another step forward, coming with a few years of Boudica now. As he did so, he rummaged briefly in one of the pockets of his backpack. “My Queen, the Master understands your ****. You have been so proud for so long, but your pride has held you prisoner. Now He bids me to give you a vision, to allow you to see the beauty of His truth.”

She looked up at him, a dullness in her eyes.

“I will have to lay my hands on your head to deliver the Master’s vision,” he ventured.

She nodded, and he stepped toward her. At that moment, one of the Guards was still together enough to step forward and say, “my Queen, no man may–”

“No,” she said, looking up at him. “I must protect my people.” She turned back to The Professor. “I would see,” she said.

The Professor stepped up next to her, quickly pressed a button on his belt, and then placed his hands on either side of her head. Each had an earbud in it, which he slipped into her ears. They played the same sound he had played for Hatshepsut, the frequency that allowed him to rewrite her neural pathways directly. It only worked at extremely close range, and with all other noises blocked out, as was the case now. Instantly, her conscious mind fled, and her body began to slump.

He moved his hands, with the earbuds, to steady her, then whispered into her ear, “Everything I tell you from now on, you will accept as your new absolute truth. And you also believe me to be the most attractive man you ever met.” The second part was a little less essential, but a little more fun.

Then he put his hands back to the sides of her head, blasted the second tone that brought her back to consciousness into her ears, and stepped back. As he did so, he pulled out his phone again and turned off the Earworm. Extended exposure to it in combination with other mind control techniques wasn’t something he had tested, and now wasn’t the moment to start.

“I…” Boudica put a hand to her head. She turned to look at The Professor, and when she did a change came into her eyes and a small smile appeared on her face. On her it seemed jarring, somehow.

“The Master gave you a vision!” The Professor put out his arms in proclamation, doing his best Charlton Heston impersonation.

“Yes!” she said, certainty in her voice.

“And in that vision, he showed you the great joy of submission, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Boudica repeated breathlessly. “I have never experienced anything…”

“And you saw yourself servicing men. You knelt before them. You sucked their cocks. You let any who asked fuck you up the ass. And you felt the greatest freedom you have ever felt.”

“Yes!” the Queen agreed furtively. She licked her lips lustily at her new memory. “The pleasure, it…was beyond description.”

The Professor looked over to where the advisor he had controlled still sat in the corner, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment as he observed the proceedings. Just as he’d been told.

“This is how you will save the Iceni,” he proclaimed. Then he lowered his arms and said, “If you tell your guards to leave, I can begin your instruction.”

“You may leave us,” Boudica immediately told her guards. They hesitated, only for a moment, then filed out of the tent. After they did, she motioned to her advisor, still writing in a corner. “What of Antedrig?”

“He can stay,” The Professor said. “Somebody has to record what happens here tonight, so that your tribe can all know the true path to freedom.”

She grinned at this thought. “Of course. They all deserve to know what I have seen.”

The Professor stepped toward Boudica and ran a hand over one of her tattooed cheeks. Her beauty really did live up the hype.

Then he said, “Now kneel, bitch.”

She immediately slipped off her throne and eagerly kneeled in front of him, next to the fire. As she did so, her sword slipped off her lap and clattered to the floor, forgotten.

He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly, and pulled out his cock. It was rock hard at the sight of the Warrior Queen kneeling in front of him. She stared at it, an almost goofy grin on her face.

“The first lesson, if a guy takes out his cock in front of you, you shouldn’t have to ask to know what to do about it,” he told her.

She nodded hurriedly, then went to work. Unlike Hatshepsut, she really was good at this, and he groaned at the sensation almost immediately as her tongue worked around his head and shaft. He knew that the Iceni were not the most prudish of tribes, and so he supposed she must have done this with the late King many times. She had certainly done it with somebody, he thought, as her tongue changed direction, teasing him.

“And now,” he said, as he looked down at the flaming red mane of Queen Boudica bouncing as she sucked his cock, “we should talk about your daughters. They will need to play their part if we are to save your tribe.”

She pulled back from him briefly. He saw that her prodigious tits had partly fallen out of her top in her enthusiasm and were now on display. “Yes, of course," she said, "anything for the Master!” Then she went back to giving him head.