"...fuck her already, Antius! It's almost noon!"
The approaching voices made her shiver in the dank cell. She'd heard the stories of what happened to girls who got dragged into the carcer underneath the garrison. "Please pass me by, please not me, someone else, take someone else..." she thought to herself, then felt a pang of shame at wishing harm on other prisoners. Not that there were many. Roman justice had been swift after the riot. What was left of the mob after the legion had been unleashed on them had been marched outside the city to die while the last of the fires were still burning.
She hadn't given them any thought. She hadn't been thinking of anything, really. Still dazed from the night's events, staggering around the ruins of the market, asking anyone she could see for help pulling her uncle out of the rubble, her dear uncle Demetrius who'd taken her in...

The sun had been setting when the soldiers came for her. "That's the one," their leader had simply said and she'd been grabbed. Her protests of innocence, her questions about her fate, all were ignored. They'd marched her into the garrison, through a yard where a man was howling in agony under a scourge's lashes, and down into this damp, filthy cellar. At first, she'd shouted, yelled herself hoarse, trying to get someone to tell her what she was accused of. It'd been futile. The guards patrolling outside her cell had simply ignored her.

She'd drifted off into a fitful sleep, haunted by the memories of a night of violence. An argument over the new taxes had turned into a brawl as more men joined in, stones had been thrown. A man had been stabbed, and a furious mob had howled for the blood of the killer. And then they'd stopped caring and all that mattered was the blood. So much blood. Decimus' skull cracked open by a thrown flagstone as he stood in the doorway. Andreas drowning in his own blood after a frenzied madman rammed a pitchfork through his chest. And Uncle Demetrius, taking blow after blow from the rioters, holding the doorway to the storeroom she'd hid in shut with his body until the flames brought down the roof...

In the morning a jug of water had been wordlessly pushed into her cell, then she had once again be left alone with her fear and grief. And now they were here to...

She shuddered again. Maybe they would pass her by. Maybe they did mean another woman, maybe...

The key clattered in the lock. The door opened. Dimly lit from the tiny slit window above, they seemed more like the monstrous giants of legend than men to her. Two of them entered her cell, a third took position outside. "Be quick", the shorter of the two whispered to his comrade, "and remember, you're volunteering for guard duty."

"I won't forget", the other hissed back, clearly aggravated. "Now let me have my fun, I won her fair and square."

Camilla had shrunk back into a corner as they entered, now she was trying her best to squeeze into the cracks of the wall's rough brickwork. "Please, I..."

A kick to the stomach knocked the air out of her and shut her up. Before she could recover, rough hands grabbed her and began tearing at her chiton. She tried to fight back and received a ringing slap across the face for it. The chiton was torn open in front, her breasts spilling out. Not all that big, but shapely. She'd always liked how they looked. Now she hated them for the way the big one leered at her, wished they were gone, burned away, reduced to ugly scars just so these brutes would not look at them like this anymore.

Another tug and the rest of her dress tore open.

And then he was on top of her, coarse-haired, sweat-dripping, his hot breath smelling of sour wine and rot. The other man held her wrists, made sure she could not use her hands to defend herself. Her legs were forced apart and she felt something hot and stiff poke around between them.

Other girls had talked about men's cocks as something to be desired and she had nodded and giggled along with them because...you had to, didn't you? It was expected. And yet, she'd always secretly found them loathsome things. There had been suitors coming to call at the tavern and not all of them had been terrible but still the thought of lying beneath one, having that vile member pushed into her, into a place that hurt when she'd gingerly explored it...

And now it was happening. And it was no lovers' tryst, nor the consummation of a marriage.

She was being clumsily raped by a brute who cared only for his own pleasure.

"Spit on it, it'll go in easier," the shorter soldier advised his mate.
"Shut it, I don't need...hah!" the big one - Antius, was that his name? - replied as she felt him finally find her entrance, the wound she bled from every month. Camilla had given up on begging for mercy, but was unable to stifle a whimper of fearful anticipation of what would come next.

With a grunt of effort, he pushed past what meager defences her body could muster. Pain stabbed through her abdomen as she felt something inside her tear. Her piercing shriek was loud enough to give the rapist pause.

"Shut. Up. You. Stupid. CUNT" he told her, each word punctuated with a blow from his heavy, callused fist.

She did as she was told. There was no fight left in her, only a hope that it would be over soon.

Camilla barely even noticed as Antius started thrusting into her, over and over. It didn't take long - yet it seemed an eternity - before his grunting breaths grew faster along with the thrusts and then...

"GrraaaargGGHHH! Shit! Take it!" he yelled as the...the thing inside her pulsated and swelled and something was unleashed in there.

Antius slumped down on top of her, crushing her with his bulk, suffocating her with the stench of his sweat.

"So, worth it?", his comrade asked with a nasty chuckle.

"And how..."

Antius, clearly satisfied, rolled off her. She felt the worm-like monster, now shrinking rapidly, pulled from her abused insides, leaving sticky slime and blood behind. The taste of blood in her mouth mixed with bile as she retched and heaved in revulsion.

"Looks like she loved it too!"

The cruel jest got a laugh from Antius, while Camilla tried to keep her sobs quiet so they wouldn't hit her anymore.

"Want a go? You helped, so..."

"Thought you'd never ask!", the shorter guard cheerfully replied.

Fear like daggers of ice ran through her spine as she understood that her ordeal was not yet over.

The other man rolled her over onto her chest, then grabbed her hips with both hands, pulling her ass up and leaving her half-kneeling, half-lying prone, cunt exposed for all to see. "Now watch this, Antius. You wanna really make a woman squeal, you grab 'er right there...", he said as his rough fingers seized a tender little piece of flesh his comrade had entirely ignored and pinched. Camilla screamed in pain once more as he tugged and twisted and tugged and touched and rubbed and...