Ancient Rome
I've been working to try and write up a scene for my character's background, showcasing her time in Rome. Thought I'd work on it here. So enjoy if you wish to, but I expect it to be long so it'll be hidden to save space.
Kyrra knelt on a small cushion within the bathing room. Her Mistress had sent her here earlier, making it known she wished to bathe soon and would need Kyrra's services shortly. Kyrra had prepared the bath, warmed the waters and the room, laid out the oil, scraper and the towels in readiness. Now she merely waited upon her Mistress' pleasure. She loved her Mistress, for her Mistress had given her a life when before she had none. She had stolen her away from the depths of despair, with no life, no love, no food, no shelter, and given her all of those things and more. Kyrra now had warmth, food, and a purpose to her life, and she also could believe. For her Mistress was a Priestess, a Priestess of Cybele. And it was Cybele's bloody hand that had guided her Mistress into finding Kyrra and bringing her into where she was now. She would always worship Cybele for her generosity, and offer her the blood in thanks for her great works.
As she waited, Kyrra's mind wandered over her night's activities, for night it was when their cult became active, in deference to their Mistress' wishes. She had just come back into the underground a short time earlier from checking on the flocks in the pastures. The cool mountain breeze that blew through their secluded valley had mussed her hair slightly, but a quick dip in the frigid mountain lake had cleaned most of the dirt and wind's effects away. She watched the mountain sky and knew that the Goddess Cybele watched over her, and she felt no fear as she wandered outside the safety of the underground rooms the Mistress ran. She knew there were villages on the other side of the mountain, villages that supplied her Mistress and them with the necessities they needed, but she had not seen them nor been allowed to visit them. Her place was with her Mistress, and she was content. The villagers were plebians, free men who worked honest livings. Mistress was a patrician, daughter of a senator, and extremely wealthy, and she relied on the villagers to provide her, trading her religious knowledge and touch to them in their times of need. Only Gaius, another of Mistress' slaves, visited the village to gather the supplies. Although at times villagers would visit them when they needed religious guidance.
Her Mistress entered at last in a wave of perfumed oils and her own lovely musk. She was tall and held a presence that drew the eye of all around her. She was beautiful, but almost with the hint of masculinity. But here, in her world beneath Rome, nothing could touch her beauty and presence. She wore an ankle-length tunic of finely woven linen, draped with a deep crimson shawl or scarf tied up tastefully at appropriate points around her body. A necklace of gold and glittering gems graced her neck, complimented by a dangling pair of matching earrings and the delicate clinking of bangles at her wrists. No sandals bound her feet, as she believed in always having direct contact with the ground she walks upon, a practice we all follow.
She drew close to Kyrra's kneeling form, sliding a finger beneath Kyrra's chin to raise her face and gaze into her eyes. "Such a beauty you are, little Kyrra, and such a pleasure to have here. You do enjoy your life here with me, don't you?"
Kyrra would have nodded, but her Mistress' hand kept her head tilted too high up, so she answered, "Yes Mistress, you are most kind and generous with your attentions."
Her Mistress smiles, tapping her chin gently. She stretches her arms up over her head, waiting. Kyrra rises off her knees quickly, her hands grasping the bottom of her Mistress' tunic and pulling it up over her body and over her arms. She folded the tunic and shawl, placing them on a side table, before returning to her Mistress and removing the golden jewelry from her neck, ears and wrists, leaving her body bare and enticing. Kyrra pulls out the oil bucket and starts smoothing the black oil over her Mistress' skin, scrubbing it in slightly so as to capture all of the dirt and sweat accumulated on her skin. Mistress stood calmly, watching Kyrra's body move around her.
As Kyrra pulls out the scraper and begins scraping off all the oil and dirt from her skin, Mistress spoke. "Kyrra, how old are you now?"
"Seventeen, Mistress."
"A beautiful age to go on a beautiful girl. I have been considering bringing you fully into our mysteries, now that you are of age. Would you be willing, my young Kyrra? Do you wish to learn?"
"Oh yes, Mistress. I live to serve you." Her hands tensed, her movements slowed as she thought about what was being offered.
"Excellent. Tonight then. Now, continue.." Kyrra nods, and begins working the scraper again, until her Mistress' body was scrubbed clean, then assisted her in stepping into the bloody bath to soak. The disturbance of the waters raised the scent of herbs through the room, while Kyrra busied herself in cleaning the area of the earlier tasks.
As her Mistress was finishing her bath, she asked Kyrra to bring her the chalice that sat upon the alter across the room. Doing as she was bid, Kyrra knelt by offering the chalice up to her Mistress. She took the cup in one hand, and raised her wrist to her mouth with the other biting into it suddenly, with the cup held beneath to capture the blood. Before Kyrra's eyes, she bleeds an adequate amount of blood into the chalice, and then she watches the wound close on its own. Her Mistress rises out of the tub, standing in all her magnificence with the blood of the bath streaming down her naked form, looking every inch the Goddess as she held out the cup to Kyrra. "Drink."
Kyrra knelt higher and held her hands over her Mistress' to help guide the cup to her lips and drank of her Goddess' blood.
to be continued...
Kyrra knelt on a small cushion within the bathing room. Her Mistress had sent her here earlier, making it known she wished to bathe soon and would need Kyrra's services shortly. Kyrra had prepared the bath, warmed the waters and the room, laid out the oil, scraper and the towels in readiness. Now she merely waited upon her Mistress' pleasure. She loved her Mistress, for her Mistress had given her a life when before she had none. She had stolen her away from the depths of despair, with no life, no love, no food, no shelter, and given her all of those things and more. Kyrra now had warmth, food, and a purpose to her life, and she also could believe. For her Mistress was a Priestess, a Priestess of Cybele. And it was Cybele's bloody hand that had guided her Mistress into finding Kyrra and bringing her into where she was now. She would always worship Cybele for her generosity, and offer her the blood in thanks for her great works.
As she waited, Kyrra's mind wandered over her night's activities, for night it was when their cult became active, in deference to their Mistress' wishes. She had just come back into the underground a short time earlier from checking on the flocks in the pastures. The cool mountain breeze that blew through their secluded valley had mussed her hair slightly, but a quick dip in the frigid mountain lake had cleaned most of the dirt and wind's effects away. She watched the mountain sky and knew that the Goddess Cybele watched over her, and she felt no fear as she wandered outside the safety of the underground rooms the Mistress ran. She knew there were villages on the other side of the mountain, villages that supplied her Mistress and them with the necessities they needed, but she had not seen them nor been allowed to visit them. Her place was with her Mistress, and she was content. The villagers were plebians, free men who worked honest livings. Mistress was a patrician, daughter of a senator, and extremely wealthy, and she relied on the villagers to provide her, trading her religious knowledge and touch to them in their times of need. Only Gaius, another of Mistress' slaves, visited the village to gather the supplies. Although at times villagers would visit them when they needed religious guidance.
Her Mistress entered at last in a wave of perfumed oils and her own lovely musk. She was tall and held a presence that drew the eye of all around her. She was beautiful, but almost with the hint of masculinity. But here, in her world beneath Rome, nothing could touch her beauty and presence. She wore an ankle-length tunic of finely woven linen, draped with a deep crimson shawl or scarf tied up tastefully at appropriate points around her body. A necklace of gold and glittering gems graced her neck, complimented by a dangling pair of matching earrings and the delicate clinking of bangles at her wrists. No sandals bound her feet, as she believed in always having direct contact with the ground she walks upon, a practice we all follow.
She drew close to Kyrra's kneeling form, sliding a finger beneath Kyrra's chin to raise her face and gaze into her eyes. "Such a beauty you are, little Kyrra, and such a pleasure to have here. You do enjoy your life here with me, don't you?"
Kyrra would have nodded, but her Mistress' hand kept her head tilted too high up, so she answered, "Yes Mistress, you are most kind and generous with your attentions."
Her Mistress smiles, tapping her chin gently. She stretches her arms up over her head, waiting. Kyrra rises off her knees quickly, her hands grasping the bottom of her Mistress' tunic and pulling it up over her body and over her arms. She folded the tunic and shawl, placing them on a side table, before returning to her Mistress and removing the golden jewelry from her neck, ears and wrists, leaving her body bare and enticing. Kyrra pulls out the oil bucket and starts smoothing the black oil over her Mistress' skin, scrubbing it in slightly so as to capture all of the dirt and sweat accumulated on her skin. Mistress stood calmly, watching Kyrra's body move around her.
As Kyrra pulls out the scraper and begins scraping off all the oil and dirt from her skin, Mistress spoke. "Kyrra, how old are you now?"
"Seventeen, Mistress."
"A beautiful age to go on a beautiful girl. I have been considering bringing you fully into our mysteries, now that you are of age. Would you be willing, my young Kyrra? Do you wish to learn?"
"Oh yes, Mistress. I live to serve you." Her hands tensed, her movements slowed as she thought about what was being offered.
"Excellent. Tonight then. Now, continue.." Kyrra nods, and begins working the scraper again, until her Mistress' body was scrubbed clean, then assisted her in stepping into the bloody bath to soak. The disturbance of the waters raised the scent of herbs through the room, while Kyrra busied herself in cleaning the area of the earlier tasks.
As her Mistress was finishing her bath, she asked Kyrra to bring her the chalice that sat upon the alter across the room. Doing as she was bid, Kyrra knelt by offering the chalice up to her Mistress. She took the cup in one hand, and raised her wrist to her mouth with the other biting into it suddenly, with the cup held beneath to capture the blood. Before Kyrra's eyes, she bleeds an adequate amount of blood into the chalice, and then she watches the wound close on its own. Her Mistress rises out of the tub, standing in all her magnificence with the blood of the bath streaming down her naked form, looking every inch the Goddess as she held out the cup to Kyrra. "Drink."
Kyrra knelt higher and held her hands over her Mistress' to help guide the cup to her lips and drank of her Goddess' blood.
to be continued...