The Time Riders: Part 6

An Orgy In Imperial Rome.

Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

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Another Time Excursion.

"How's your head?" Becky asked as they walked down
the hallway, gazing in wonder at the ornate mosaic that covered the floor and
stretched ahead of them. The walls, no doubt made of brick, were covered in
plaster, upon which colorful (and often erotic) frescoes were painted. While
the clothing she was wearing in theory resembled the stola and other
clothes worn by Roman women, hers was considerably abbreviated, if not
downright scandalous. The white garment hung off her sensual curves, spilling
away from her voluptuous tits, which could be seen through the mostly
diaphanous material. Gold bracelets and bangles adorned her arms and a thin
gold chain with tiny jewels sat on her ankle. She was wearing her golden-blonde
hair up atop her head, but playful wisps and curls hung down in places, giving
it a sassy and almost playful look. A gold-colored belt cinched in at her tiny
waist, making her bust look even bigger.

Mark grimaced and lightly thumped the heel of his palm
against the side of his head, as if trying to jar his brain loose. "It
kinda hurts, to be honest, like a buzzing headache," he muttered, waiting
for his eye to stop twitching. "Who'd have thought getting advanced
cybernetics installed in your noggin would hurt?"

"Oh, come now, you're hardly Steve Austin," Becky
chided, smiling at his outfit while they walked. "It was just a little
bio-chip installed into your Broca's area to help you get by quickly with the
whole language thing."

"Well, if Latin is supposed to sound like the white
noise on a grandpa TV combined with a mosquito buzzing in your ear, then it's
working," Mark groused, wiggling his jaw to see if opening up his ear
canals helped at all in getting rid of this unwelcome phenomenon. "How
long did they say it usually lasted?"

"Just an hour," Becky replied, stopping and
fiddling with Mark's tunic, adjusting it to show off his handsome physique to
best effect. The simple leather belt hung loosely on his small waist, more for
contrast than anything. He was wearing very simple sandals on his feet. She
hadn't had to do very much to his dark hair to achieve the look she wanted,
merely tousling it after rubbing in a little olive oil, making it wavy and
pleasing to look at. "Should stop any time now."

And as if acceding to the lovely woman's request, the
buzzing and throbbing stopped suddenly. Mark's eyes widened slightly at the
sudden quiet inside his cranial grape. Becky saw his expression change and
smiled, knowing what had happened.

"Hmm," she purred, tracing a finger down his form
and over his cock beneath his period clothes. "Estne volumen in tunica,
an solum tibi libet me videre?"

Mark grinned, understanding what she had said. "Ego
sum laetus video vidi te!" he replied readily.

"Well, I know you're happy to see these;” Becky
whispered, leaning close and using a finger to tug down the edge of her
barely-there clothing and exposing her tit to him, the pink nipples begging for
his attention. "But;” she said, replacing the clothing and standing up
again, "; we're here to take part in a Roman orgy, so we'd best get
moving now that you're feeling better."

Mark exhaled, composing himself after her tease, and nodded.
"All right. So what's the drill again?"

"Your name is Bonosus," Becky instructed, touching
up his outfit again. "You're a slave from Spain, meaning that you have no
rights. But don't worry, I own you, and I am very specific about who can do
what with you."

"So, no guy is gonna try and fuck me in the ass,
right?" Mark asked somewhat nervously, smiling.

Becky smiled: "Pity you won't try it, you might like
it. However, no, I'll simply explain that you're off-limits to men, because
you're being saved for my uncle, who is away on the German border.

Me, I'm a patrician woman, visiting Rome, and I'm looking
for a good time. My name is Aurora. If you really need my attention and are
worried about speaking in Latin, we'll speak in English, quietly. Got it?"

"Okay, what should I expect?" he queried.

"I did a little research, looking for who had a
reputation for throwing orgies and parties that tended to bring out the morals
police," she answered, adjusting her own outfit now. Neither of them was
wearing undergarments, and if the light caught the bottom portion of her
so-called dress just right, Mark could see her cunt. "This villa is far
enough on the outskirts of Rome that we're very unlikely to get a visit."

She leaned back against the wall, smiling saucily as she
drew him into her, their pelvises pressing together as she looked up at him.

"So we're going to go in there, and fuck, and fuck, and
fuck, with anyone and everyone we choose," she whispered in his ear.
"Fuck every single girl that catches your fancy, Mark. Those anacept pills
we took will cover us against all known transmitted diseases for a week, and
they make us temporarily infertile. No consequences. And the tiny tabs on our
skin will keep our libidos from flagging for a whole day."

"That sounds great," he agreed, his eyes glinting
with excitement. "Really great."

"Mark, I am going to behave like I haven't since my
wildest nights in college," Becky said softly, reaching up and running her
fingers through his hair as she looked up into his eyes. He could feel her
breathing getting heavy. She was really turned on by what they were about to
do. "Are you sure you're prepared to see me like that?"

Mark nodded: "I don't own you, Becks. We're time travel
partners, and damned good ones. It's not like we're in love. Do what you like,
I promise, it's fine."

"Hmm, just when I thought you couldn't get more
attractive;” she purred, pulling him in for a deep kiss while they leaned
against the wall. She broke the kiss and looked up at him. "Do' you
remember where all our supplies are, in case things happen to go south?"

Mark nodded again. "Back in the little vestibule near
the servants' rooms. I remember. Now let's do this; Mistress Aurora."

"God, I could get used to hearing that," Becky
sighed, shivering as she straightened up and prepared herself. "Remember;
lots of drinking, eating, music, dancing and fucking. Do whatever the Hell
feels good tonight, Mark, this is a real Roman orgy."

She took him by the hand and smiled wickedly. "Now
let's go get 'em, tiger;”

Mark was laughing and drinking wine from a silver goblet,
while watching a group of slave girls dance in the middle of the floor. The
girls, who were clearly from all around the Empire, were whirling and cavorting
about while drums and cymbals clashed out a rhythmic beat for them to follow.
They wore sheer material draping down from their waists between their legs, and
nothing else. Their tits bounced and jiggled about as they twirled about one
another, letting out sensuous calls on occasion.

The hosts of the day's festivities, a patrician man named
Flavius and his lovely wife Pompeneia, were very wealthy, and they owned over
five hundred slaves, spread out among three separate properties spaced around
the capital. Mark had even heard tell that they owned land in Egypt and
Byzantium. Wealthy indeed.

There were nearly fifty proper guests, excluding slaves and
attendants, so the place was fairly bustling with people. Patricians,
plebeians, freedmen, freedwomen and slaves, all were to enjoy themselves
tonight. And all at the request of the guest of honor, the stunning Aurora of
the fabled Horatius family.

Mark pried his eyes away from the dancing girls long enough
to look around for his 'mistress'. He finally espied her, lying stretched out
on a lectus, along with their hostess, Pompeneia, hungrily swallowing
one another's tongue while they groped each other. Against all odds, 'Aurora'
still had her clothes on, although only barely.

Mistress Horatia Aurora had, as guest of honor, requested
that in the name of the goddess Feronia, that the slaves be allowed to
celebrate tonight as well, free of consequence, as long as they also performed
their assigned duties. If not actively seeing to an assignment, they were
allowed to sit, although they had to accede their seat to anyone of a higher
station who needed it. They would also still oblige guests who wished to be
serviced by the slave in question, and the Flavius household's slaves were all
available to anyone who attended.

Mark looked back at the dance now, seeing that it was
winding down, with the girls letting out calls that there supposed to represent
cranes or herons crying out for mates. That was an invitation for anyone
inclined to come and take them once the dance had ended. They all fell still in
various poses as the drums and cymbals stopped and the room erupted in applause
and cheers for their efforts.

Mark smiled as one bronze-skinned beauty on the floor caught
his eye. As the dancers dispersed into the crowd, she slowly walked over to
him, her deep hazel eyes liquid with passion.

Mark greeted her with a cup of wine, offering it to her.

"I thank you," she said in a heavy accent,
her Latin speech seeming formal. "Tonig