Spurtacus

A Who-dunnit meets Swords and S(c)andals, with plenty of naughty bits of course in about 7 (or more) acts. Think Bridgerton meets Spartacus with twice the amount of raunch and some other bonus cleverdicking for the people who manage to pick up on it.

Act 1

Imperial Palace, Rome, Empress Messalina’s public quarters

The line of respectable Roman Matrones standing with their heads bowed in shame is long. The Empress moves past one, looks at her and raises her eyes questioningly. ‘You too? Lavinia Aestatia Flavius?’ The woman, who had already cast her eyes down in both shame and deference only nodded her head. She managed to squeak out: ‘Yes, Domina Augusta. I did.’ Then to her eternal shame she added: ‘Just once though, Domina’

Messalina shook her head, as if understanding. ‘Oh, just the once.’ She turned on her axis, addressing the room in general. ‘Well if it was only once. ..’ She didn’t finish the sentence. Even the Praetorians, the Imperial Guardsmen, in the expansive room, weren’t sure whether the Empress was really considering that inference seriously or was about to have the woman escorted off to the Circus Maximus, to be executed only once. Only once would of course suffice.

The guardsmen saw the same realisation dawn in the eyes of most of the other matrones present. ‘And you? Prudenta?’ ‘Not intercourse, as such, Domina Augusta.’ ‘Not intercourse. Well, that’s admirable. Isn’t it. She didn’t risk getting pregnant. Just was seen leaving the Colliseum in. .. what do my notes say again?’ Messalina rifled through the scrolls in a small basket she was carrying. ‘Oh yes, here it is. In a state of undress unbecoming a Roman citizen and respected Matrona of the house of Janus, with a grin on her face, that could not hide the fact that she had been pleasured and her hair and face in such a state of disarray that if she’d been inspected up close, the spy was sure semen would have been discovered on her body.’

The matrona just hung her head in silent shame, her cheeks burning. Messalina continued. ‘The spy of course being: Julia of the Atilia. Who ran to my chambers, to report on her neighbour’s extra-marital affair, temporarily forgetting that her. . oh what’s the relation again? Let me think? Sister in law?’ Messalina looked questioningly to the next woman in line. ‘Cousin, Domina Augusta.’ ‘Ah, yes cousin, forgive my forgetfulness. So Julia forgot that Marcia of the same Atilia, in her own envy for the same treatment and end result, would see her entering the villa and she in turn would tattle on her cousin, in hopes of claiming the prize for herself.’

‘The prize of course being the legendary: Spurtacus! The slave gladiator with a cock that can shoot a pearl necklace on a Roman Matrona’s neck from across the Circus Maximum. Right into the pulvinum. And we are also told that his tongue is equaly if not even more skilled in bringing down sensible matronas beyond reason and forgetting their station and responsibilities toward the city of Rome!’ Messalina’s voice had gotten angrier and angrier. Her glare was ready to cut down any errant head or eye raised at her at their own peril.

‘Is there anyone in Rome who hasn’t fucked with this Spurtacus?’ Messalina cried out in anger and anguish. Truth be told, she was curious now herself too. She regained her composure and nodded towards the Praetorians. ‘Take them out of my sight. I’ll decide what to do with them later.’ The Praetorians quickly ushered the women out of the room, away from the wrath of the Empress.

Continued in Act II