Bizia Magissa, Priestess of Hecate.

Again you strain against your bonds, but this time out of rage and the sole desire to get at this upstart queen. She pays you no heed, however, and disappears into the shadows followed by the sound of a heavy door closing.

“Whore, I will have you before this is done and make you pay.” You hiss under your breath.

“By 'have you' do you mean to merely defeat or to fuck my queen?” A still calm female voice right next to you catches you by surprise. “Or are both implied?”

The robed and hooded priestess has silently, quickly and without your notice, moved right next to you, as if by magic. “Do you really believe fucking her majesty will reclaim your honor? How strange you men think, always assuming your other head can conquer all problems, but I guess that is why you're here.”

The woman's tone is eerily causal and friendly. “You've have to forgive the queen's temper. She despises all men, thus you will not be 'having' her, at least for tonight. Many of my sisters, however, have been chosen to have you. I would think there are worst fates to befall a man imprisoned by his enemies than to be taken by a parade of some of the most beautiful women in the world. That is as long as your manly pride doesn't mind you being on the bottom and rode like a common whore. Hmm, I guess her majesty was right, this is the irony of Tyche. You called the queen a whore, but in fact that is what you're about to become.”

“Who are you?” You demand a bit bewildered and confused by this Amazonian priestess and the strange fate that has befallen you. Of course bedding a legendary Amazon, or especially several Amazons, would appeal to any man. For you have always prided yourself on your ability to satisfy any woman and would normally relish the challenge to show a lover her proper position through a good long fucking, yet the priestess's words ring true. This is no drunken game played with a whore at a brothel. Your honor, your dignitas, are for more inflamed than any juvenile lust. It is not natural for a man to be a taken this way. You're not some helpless girl to be pillaged against his will, let alone to have your body used to increase Rome's enemies. Silently you vow to the god Mars that you will escape, regain your honor and avenge yourself. Distrustful you eye this priestess who feels as perverted and unnatural as your predicament.

“Oh, my apologizes Captain Vikare.” She gives a slight bow. “I am being rude.”

“How do you know my name?” You ask as your concerns grow.

“It's Captain Vikare, is it not? Captain Gaius Severinus Vikare of Ostia? For I am the one who lead the attack on your camp and from my search of your effects I deduced your name.”

Her voice is strange and haunting, with a far off accent you cannot place. Her pale white hands lift up to remove her hood. “My name is Bizia Magissa, chief counselor to Queen Marpesia, royal court magician and priestess of Hecate.”

“Hecate?!” Your eyes widen as you feel fear for the first time during your ordeal at the realization you're in the hands of a servant of the forbidden dark goddess of witchcraft, necromancy and torture. “Do not touch me witch!”

As the priestess's hood falls to her shoulders she strangely gives you a friendly, almost kind smile. “Oh my dear Captain Vikare,” her voice is disturbingly soothing, bewitching and some how slightly off. “I WILL be touching you.” She places her cool pale left hand on your bare stomach and begins to trace the outline of your clearly defined abdomen muscles. “And for this day, I think you will find my touch rather pleasant.”

The witch Bizia, though not as beautiful in the standard sense as the athletic Queen Marpesia, is eerily alluring. Her jet black hair highlights her fine porcelain white skin. A dark shade of violet colors her full lips and outlines her striking eyes of irises of shimmering gold and pupils that are almost cat like.

“You should consider this a great honor, Captain.” Bizia's hand glides across your abdomen and chest, caressing your muscular frame, while her eyes inspecting every inch of your body. “Very few men are chosen for this kind of service. For we Amazons are only allowed to breed during a festival in honor of the goddess Aphrodite, and then only by the queen's consent, and with a man of her choosing. This way our race will be assured of its strength, vitality and beauty. Her majesty is very discriminating on whom she picks, especially when her adopted daughter, and heir to the throne, will be making her first offering to the goddess of love.”

“Venus has nothing to do with this.” You object.

“Come now Captain, you must be aware how attractive you're.” Bizia's left hand continues to fondle your chest, as her right raises up and gently caresses the edge of your jaw. “Your deep sharp eyes, strong Roman jaw, Adonis like face, commanding voice,” the witch runs her tongue hungrily across her upper lip, “and such a powerful, muscular, virile body that would rival Heracles, must have been the ruin of many a Roman woman.”

“Surely Captain,” Bizia asks in an aroused voice, “as a warrior, and a conqueror, you have taken women against their will. Does it excite you to hear their cries as you ravage them into submission?”