Prologue: A Room of Mirrors

Black entered the tiny room and fell to his knees in awe.

It was a sweltering day in the smog filled city of Bangkok. A travel journalist, Black had been trying to find inspiration to write a positive article about the seedy shit-hole. Tourism was the city’s main source of income and officials had given him quite the ‘gift’ to help him appreciate the area. He clutched the case holding his laptop tightly. He had barely come off the plane when someone had snatched one of his bags and made of on a growling scooter, leaving him choking in its fumes.

Thank Christ it was the last day. He was sick of being offered drugs, whores and, well, that was basically it really.

Then he stopped, regardless of the people bustling around him, and found himself gazing at a shabby looking building across the road. There was nothing special about it, as drab as the other buildings around it. For no reason he could give, he felt his member rise stronger than it had done in months.

He did not know why he walked to the building, why he had opened the door without knocking, stepped in without invitation. He just felt compelled to do so. It were as though a siren had called him without using a melody. The closer he went the stronger his erection became. When he entered it was so painful he felt one of his hands lower in an effort to relieve the pressure.

Then he saw the silent siren that had called him, lounging naked on a mat at the other side of the room. She looked human but Black knew she was not. She was beautiful, but not in any supermodel way. There was some subtle manner to her movements, a carefully set expression on her face that had him utterly wanting her. “Hello.” It was a simple word, but said so perfectly, toned in just the right manner, that Black thought he was going to swoon with lust.

Briefly, Black noted that, save the wall the siren was against, everywhere else was full of all manner of mirrors. From small hand mirrors to large dressing mirrors. The room was so crowded with them he was sure that if one was sent toppling the rest would follow like dominoes. Countless visions of his pathetic self returned his desperate gaze, he returned his eyes to the beauty before him. “Please.” He whined, “I’m going to die.” The pain and desire was excruciating. He was certain she was the cause of it. He badly needed release, he badly wanted her.

“Do not be silly.” she chided, “I have been watching you. You are a writer, are you not?” Black could only give more pleas in response. The woman Black thought must be a siren took it as a yes, “Good. Open that contraption will you and begin typing. My time draws near and I wish to do justice to a story those clouts Juvenal and Pliny failed to achieve.”

Compelled, Black unzipped the case, brought out his state of the art instrument and booted it up. He sat cross-legged and rested it on his lap as it ran. Without further encouragement he logged in and opened a new document. “Please…”

“Type what I say word for word. It is going to be hard, your language is incredibly bland and unfit for the likes of her, so some of my tongue will be necessary. I will do my best to keep it legible.” Black felt his erection ease of slightly, the pain fade. It did not matter, Black wanted her still and would do whatever he could to please her. She was his queen now, as far as he was concerned. “Type.” she commanded, and Black found himself laying his fingers upon the familiar keyboard eagerly.

1: My Awakening

I am not like the others you know. To your kind this profession is a mere job, you work the hours, earn the money and go home. For Lilitu such as I it is a way of life. It is who we are, what we are. As such, I, Scylla, feel it best to give a brief account of what I call my ‘awakening’ before I detail my most remarkable experiences with the empress.

My father was a soldier, rarely did I see him for he was oft stationed in some far away land. So I lived with my mother tending to the household as I grew up. Often my parents had tried for a son but I remained an only child. Like most young people my greatest love was for the stories of myth and legend that so many told. When my father did return I would make him tell all he knew of wherever he had been. Little did I know one such story would set me on the path I travel now.

As I trailed my mother in the marketplace I overheard a filthy looking man preaching against the depravity of the empire, how if we did not change our ways soon the end would come. He seemed to notice me and mother and pointed at us, screaming that vanity is sinful, that mirrors are in fact portals to a realm of depravity. My mother, of course, ignored him. But the idea of mirrors as portals stuck with me. I believed in the mystical, you see, and so wanted to see something a such.

My mother owned a lovely copper mirror, crude compared to the mirrors of today but for the time very good. When noone was around I would neglect my chores, sneak into her room and stare into it until my eyes hurt, hoping to see that other world. I did this countless times, but to no avail.

It happened when I was at the baths. I rose out after cleansing myself and saw my reflection upon the waters, more clear than the beaten and polished metal that were mirrors back then. I admired my naked body and, for an instant, I let my mind wander to darker thoughts. I imagined the wonderful things men might do to me and how beautiful I would look as they did it. I was indeed vain, but only because I had the right to be.

It happened for a second, yet that second will remain with me forever. The waters turned dark and something else looked back out at me. It was a woman, so voluptuous and perfect that I nearly dove back into the baths after her. Naked and shameless, arms wide to embrace me she seemed to beckon. She was smiling at me lovingly, then she was gone. I tried to conjure back that image, I thought of what I had done to bring it and repeated it. But no matter what I did the image never returned. I was desperate to be with this woman, to be as shameless and perfect as her. I wanted to be her and be with her, yet that glorious vision did not return.

Both elated and disappointed, I returned home. But that night I had an unusual dream. It was of that woman, naked upon a throne, laughing as the city around her burned. She waited with glee for the attackers to charge into the room, when they would use her as a common whore. As those bloodthirsty barbarians entered she opened her legs in greeting. Before the first one reached her, I awoke.

I should have felt fear but instead it was the first time I felt aroused. The beauty of that woman hypnotized me. The depravity of her a fascination. I both longed and feared to be in her place, to have those men around me, ravaging me. That dream would stay with me from then on, as it was meant to, for it was only much later I would understand the message of it. For now I was content to know that the mysterious woman was watching and guiding me. I was enflamed. My thoughts grew more and more depraved and my loins burned to be used.

Despite the constant scolding given by my parents I wore less and less. It was a joy to wander the streets and have eyes roam my body, knowing they were picturing obscene acts with me. But I surrendered my virginity to none of them. Whilst I yearned and planned the day when I would open my legs to the world I wanted my first time to be something magnificent and taboo. Something fitting for one such as I.

Eventually I seduced my father.

It was not hard, he had returned from a long campaign and my mother was at the market. He must have been to the tabernae for he swayed slightly, clearly drunk. Taking opportunity of my mother’s absence, I wore nothing as I tidied the house outside, knowing the locals would tell her and get me in trouble, but staring at me lecherously nonetheless. I delighted in their sly glances and felt my body tremble with readiness when I saw father appear. I sensed the entity I had seen in the baths stir within me and I knew it was time.

I took him inside and knew a simple gesture would have him on me. His drunkeness and months of frustration had him just about ready to fuck anyone. I pretended to get him wine, bending over and reaching across the table. Just like that, he was inside me.

I heard some say the first time is painful and underwhelming, but for me it was the ultimate release. His phallus glided into me easily, as though my body had moulded itself for this moment, him pounding me like the whore I strove to be. I clasped the edge of the table and felt his strong hands clasp my now ample breasts as he fucked me mercilessly. I knew this was what I was for, that this is what I would dedicate my life to, I wanted it to never end, nor would it. All too soon he flooded my womb with his seed, before I orgasmed, and stumbled to the bed where he collapsed into a drunken slumber.

Quietly, I went to him, untied the pouch at his belt and took a single obol. Smiling, I admired the dull coin and secreted it away. Payment taken, I was now a prostibulae. I walked out to the streets to begin my profession.

It was like a dam had finally broken. I rarely returned home after that, I felt little need to sleep and the few coins I earned kept me fed. I was a diobolares. Men needed only toss a couple of coins at me and I was theirs. I never seemed to be satiated, there did not seem to be enough men in the world to satisfy me. Whilst the others would retire for the night or day I would continue, taking client after client into me, no act forbidden.

My mother died of fever shortly after my awakening. With this I returned home and made it into something akin to a temple and a brothel, all in homage to the entity I dedicated myself to. My father had no objections, whilst guilt ridden at first I soon had him besotted and willing. I needed only wrap myself around his member and he would agree to all. The locals, sensing the deity within me, began leaving offerings at the door.

It was as I whored myself from this temple that I began to notice I was no longer like the others, in that I could not be considered human. The most obvious first sign was my maniacal lust, I could fuck more than most women and feel little in the way of exertion. I did not bleed each month either so little hindered my appetites.The second sign was when I realised I had not eaten or drank for several days yet was as healthy as ever, instead I had an unending craving for semen that seemed to rejuvenate me whenever I partook of it. Thirdly, I rarely slept, the odd occasions I did would be for a few minutes, and these would bring visions of a world I would later learn to be my true home.

Whilst it was a remote village, the occasional traveler came and it was from one eastern visitor that I learned I was something called Lilitu, something akin to a succubus but much more. As soon as I heard the term I new it to be correct, the tone and sound just seemed so right to me. The way the word made the tongue move was appropriately similar to what some men did with theirs to me. The deity I envisioned had turned me into Lilitu, the embodiment of everyones’ darkest fantasies and repressed longings.

Naturally, there were those who feared me and kept away. Some, mostly the wives choosing to blame me for their husbands’ infidelity, grouped together and hired a rabbi, apparently knowledgeable on creatures such as I. I watched with amusement for a while as the shambling old man spouted nonsensical words and wrote on some parchment just outside the temple. I could not help but laugh at the guilt ridden fool.

Yes, guilt ridden, ashamed of his own desires, terrified of his own lusts. As Lilitu I learned that I had a deeper understanding of people than they did themselves. I stepped out, naked as always, and opened my arms wide in invitation. For a brief moment I saw the wretch’s longing, then saw him recognise it in himself, then watched him shriek and flee in horror of his urges. Of course, he blamed these urges on me trying to bewitch him. With him gone, I returned to my delights.

Yet as the months went by I grew restless. It was but a remote village I dwelled in and the same people would come day after day. The temple grew claustrophobic and I longed for the open sky. I ceased to orgasm and knew it was time to reach for new heights. So, during one of those rare moments when I was alone, I stole into the night, naked save for my sandals.

I traveled at night, pausing only at crossroads to offer my services. People back then held a fascination with crossroads, seeming to think there was a mystery there. To one such as I the reason was obvious as to why they were drawn to such places, just open your legs and you yourself are the crossroads. It was a joy to feel new people inside me, but I knew they were all limited in their imaginations, in their perversity. I sensed my deity pushing me to a certain place and was well aware it was the only place where I could experience true decadence.

Eventually, I made it to Rome.

2: My Empress

Rome was almost as restrictive to our kind as the world is today. Whilst I got to know many more delights, I had to tread carefully to not be caught up in the stranglehold of rules and regulations. For Rome was very much run on money. Whores were required to register themselves and pay a tax on their earnings, these workers were considered meretrices. They were required to wear yellow togas so they would not be mistaken for the ‘virtuous’ ladies.

I, on the other hand, was a proud diobolares, a street walker who never charged more than two obols. Why bother charging when their semen is enough? Being a cheap whore thrilled me, and it felt right to offer myself at a price, albeit a low one. I learned that men were naturally drawn to me by my aura so I never lacked for work. I never registered or paid the tax on my small earnings. I never stayed in a brothel but wandered the streets naked, a predator in her natural environment. Nakedness was a sign of slavery there, yet I loved how their eyes would roam me. My body was my pride, my vanity would allow for no concealment. Of course, I would have to flee from authorities on occasion, but there were many women who operated in a similar manner and I soon got to know the streets better than many. I was never caught.

Over the next few months, however, particularly during the festivals of lupercal, I began to be renowned for my skills. More than that, however, I began to be renowned for my endurance. I would work through many clients in one night in a way the others could only envy. Despite not being licensed and registered, I earned a name for myself and many a curious noble or wealthy man would have their servants scour the city for me, wishing to see if the rumours were true. I never disappointed, nor did I reveal what I truly was.

One day, however, I was was given not so much an invite as a challenge. A well attired servant located me and stated that a wealthy noblewoman had heard of my famous stamina and wished me to attend a bacchanalia she was holding. Although illegal, such secret parties were actually very common. It was the fact that this woman claimed she could outdo me and wished me to attend to see who could outlast the other that surprised me. Not one to back down, I readily agreed.

I arrived at the lavish building. Various wealthy men and women were in attendance, many whom I was familiar with. I was well acquainted with the decadence of such festivities and felt at home. It was the hostess and challenger however which shocked me. She was a tall woman with long black hair, dark eyes and olive skin. Very beautiful and exotic. She wore no clothing, already prepared for the antics ahead. But the way she held herself revealed her aristocratic upbringing and nature. I knew her at once.

It was the Empress Valeria Messalina.

I could tell the moment I looked at her, confirmed by the tingling sensation of her touch as she greeted me. She was Lilitu like me, a follower of the same deity. From the sparkle in her eyes I could tell she knew what I was also. I could hardly believe it, for I had never before encountered one fo my own kind.

The empress of Rome was Lilitu.

I had heard vague rumours of her promiscuity, never had I imagined them to be an understatement of the real thing. She greeted me warmly, but also with a competitive air. Empress or no, I refused to be intimidated and displayed my confidence, which well pleased her.

Without further ado, I was led to a room with two lavish beds and numerous men waiting in drunken anticipation. With a servant dressed as cupid each to keep tally we set to, taking one man after another. Erect phalluses never ceased to excite me. The way they grew hard, promising to ruin me and grant me their sacrifice made them seem divine, yet I should stress that I never felt beholden to them. No more than the lion did to the antelope. Always it was the men who would beg for me, never the other way round. The more men a Lilitu slept with at one time the greater her arousal and hunger becomes. As such that competition was a true delight.

But I was dismayed, as I eventually began to tire I saw the empress set to each one as though it were the first. I spurred myself forwards, I took more men than I had before. But, alas, once I reached what would have broken most I was forced to concede and proclaim the empress the champion. It seemed there was still a limit to how many men I could take back then, my transition still occurring. The spectators gave a round of applause as I rose and made ready to bow to the empress in a sign of respect.

She did not stop. Laughing at me she continued taking men into her over and over. When it became clear she would go on for some time I simply accepted wine from the aquarii servants and watched in admiration. An efficient woman, she began taking several at a time, once I recuperated I began preparing those who awaited their turn, ensuring they were fully erect for her. As I focused I thought I could see a shadowy figure with her on the bed, feminine in form, whispering things into the empress’ ear. Words that spurred her on beyond her limits. Was that the goddess, a messenger, or something else?

As the night wore on and some of the participants slipped away Messalina was forced to rise when there were no men left to pleasure. Even after such acts, covered in their seed, she looked regal, like the goddess come to be amongst us. I begged to become her copae, a servant who also whores in her free time. Messalina seemed pleased and accepted my offer, so my time as the empress’ slave girl began.

******

I woke the next morning on a simple mat by the royal bed. As the first rays of dawn shone through I looked to Messalina lying naked beside me.

Like me, she preferred a simple mat on the floor to the lavish thing beside us. It was a preference I acquired from the filthy things I opened my legs on for coin and seed. I wondered if the preference was common to my kind, since she must have been raised surrounded by luxury. I trailed a finger down the curvature of her body, beginning at her shoulder, admiring her olive skin. As I reached her thigh I detoured round to slip into her vulva, damp and ready despite being asleep. With a serene gasp her eyelids fluttered open and, smiling, she drew closer, crushed her breasts against mine and pushed her tongue down my throat. I felt myself flush with a feeling I was unused to and responded eagerly. When she finally broke away I asked, “What are you?”

Giggling she straddled me, legs wide apart, dark eyes drinking me in and dark hair trailing down, “A whore, like you.”

I accepted this calmly, placing a hand on each of her thighs, “You are empress.”

She rolled those lovely eyes, “Yes, but first and foremost I am a whore. Not like those desperate things out there, but a creature like you. Do not deny it.”

As if I would have. She teased my nipples with her fingers and kissed me again. We pleasured eachother then, drinking from one another’s chalice like we had traveled through the desert. Once we had climaxed she rose and, not bothering to clothe herself, strode into the palace. I followed her example and trailed her as a servant should.

It was like stepping into another world. After being a street walker so long, to suddenly be dwelling in the luxury of the royal palace was an incredible change. The empress took a special interest in me and we became very close, I actually did very little in the way of serving. I soon discovered that Messalina was more wonderfully promiscuous than I could ever have anticipated.

She neglected many of her duties as empress, leaving them to other authorities. She also had children whom she rarely saw, just a means of securing her position. Instead she was obsessed with the way of harlotry. When not in the public eye we both wore little and she seemed to survive the politics and intrigues of Rome by trading her body for favours. Every day I would follow her as she went to this high priest’s, that senator’s or this noble’s estate where she inevitably ended up sleeping with them. Often she wandered the palace naked, a train of prostitutes serving as attendants following her.

Yet as weeks passed I was to learn swiftly that, although Lilitu, she still held on to a vicious sense of ambition that was bred into all roman nobles. Never was this made more clearer to me than when she dealt with the consul Asiaticus.

“Dear consul, I am so grateful you took the time to see me.” My empress sat beside the water fountain and admired the famed Gardens of Lucullus hungrily. She wore a sheer gown that hid little, as she intended. I remained free of such constrictions. Messalina claimed I was a slave that caught her eye and could not bear such beauty to be covered. Whilst Messalina’s attire was considered scandalous, my nakedness was simply natural to my rank.

“The pleasure is all mine my dear.” Asiaticus seated himself at the bench beside her. Most men would steal glances at her breasts, but Asiaticus kept his firmly on Messalina’s eyes. Inwardly I sighed. Despite our many gifts of seduction there were always some who resisted us, who simply refused to face their true selves. I thought it a shame, for although getting on in years he was not that unhandsome. “What can I do for you?”

We had just come after ‘debating’ with the ambassador of Gaul. A debate that left us both wanting more and a content ambassador promising higher income. Hearing of Asiaticus’ revamped pleasure gardens Messalina chose this as the next destination.

“Well, sweet consul. It is hard being an empress, and as I am sure you have heard I have needs that takes many a man to fulfill.” Smiling she pulled up the thin dress and opened her thighs, “Would you be so kind as to help contribute to my demands, a happy empress is a happy emperor, after all.”

I could not help but wince as she did this. Did she not see that he could not be seduced? That he was too locked away in his arrogance and delusion of self righteousness to understand his true nature? I could only watch helplessly when Asiaticus awkwardly declined, leading Messalina into a fit of screeching fury. She stormed away, me following in tow. Whilst most servants would have kept quiet, I dared speak to her in her current temper. We were both the only ones of our kind we knew so I figured she would never harm me, “There are always a few we cannot reach, Messalina.” I was the only one she allowed to address her by name.

“Yes, and they are a danger to us!” She stopped and spun to face me on the marble steps leaving the garden, “Those we cannot reach will always fear and hate us, will always seek to destroy us.”

I shrugged, “I guess that is why we are such secretive creatures. It cannot be helped.” I saw it was the wrong answer. The ambitions she had been reared to possess as a noble still remained with her, it was something she had yet to let go of, “No, those who oppose us must be crushed. I will allow no obstacle to my path.” Her path as Lilitu or as empress, I thought but did not say, “He is a consul is he not, and a popular one if my clients are to be believed. What can you do?”

At this, Messalina’s took on a mischievous smile, even when angry and conniving she was beautiful, “Remember that uptight bitch Poppaea Sabina?”

I did. Just the thought of her made me angry. An utter hypocrite. Whilst she had secret lovers she acted as though she was above the empress in reputation. She was one of those women who convinced themselves they were content to be no more than high class livestock. Raised to be subjugated by men and to obey their whims, to act as they demand and spawn their brats, ignoring the adulteries they committed on the side. Such short-sighted fools infuriated me. I nodded to Messalina who grinned, “She will be the key.”

3: My Sister

I witnessed the Emperor Claudius soon after. Messalina suffered semi-acceptable clothing for the occasion and she gave a tearful account of how she had discovered Asiaticus’ adulterous relationship with Sabina. The emperor was a stuttering, oafish looking man who acted as such, but I saw through the charade and saw his fear to act on the news. It was his adviser Senator Rufus, no doubt realising there was a fortune to be had, that convinced him to act and sentence Asiaticus to death.

Messalina confiscated the gardens for herself. She gleefully sent Sabina an offer, either she could accept exile, or become a famosa, a courtesan of high caliber. “I gave her an excellent offer.” Messalina said bitterly as she read Sabina’s reply, “She would have been a whore of the highest order in this city. Pampered and wealthy and spoilt for men to choose from.”

I did not need to ask what Sabina’s decision was. “When is Asiaticus to be executed?” Messalina tutted, “Wretch did the ‘honourable’ thing an opened his veins. Suicide.” “Suicide.” I echoed, it left a bad taste in my mouth. Whilst this city applauded disgraced aristocrats who did the ‘honourable’ thing such a thought was vile to Messalina and I. To live was to experience new sensation, to choose death was to lose that. It went against what we were as Lilitu. Sleeping with Messalina at night, I learned he was not the first noble who refused her and met a nasty end. Her own step father was one such unfortunate soul, as such her mother refused to speak with her.

I suddenly felt weary of this city, of the palace, of its intrigues. It had been a few months now. My loins ached with need, I yearned to be back in the streets again, working as diabolares, caring for nothing but the next phallus. Somehow being fucked by filthy lowlives for two grimy coins felt more honest and clean than pleasuring these primped and slimy children playing at being men. My thighs grew slick at the thought of the drunken beggars out there who could be in me as we spoke.

Messalina noticed my arousal at once. “Forgive me sister.” I flushed with emotion for her, both hurt and elated. That she saw me as a sister touched me, but to me she was much more than that. I noticed how I was becoming more enamoured of her the more I followed her. Since my awakening I had always been enflamed, but watching the way she moved so gracefully set me alight like no other. To one such as I it was poetry the way she worked on her clients, satisfying them utterly. On the occasions when she prostituted me to an official I strove to reach her level. With the emperor usually away on business, we fucked together and slept together on the days we did sleep, in eachother’s arms. I relished those moments more than any other.

She rose and embraced me, “It must be hard enduring the political life, filled with the cares of mortals, when you should be living as Lilitu, satisfying our simple yet complex tastes.” She kissed me.

“We both should be living as Lilitu. Let us descend to the streets together, we can fuck and feed all night and return come the morn.”

Messalina kissed me again and took me to the balcony. I briefly noted the starry sky, a cold uncaring vista, and took in the twinkling stars of the city torches instead. She pointed to a building in the distance, “You see that?” When I nodded she continued, “That is my lupanar, one of many I own, in fact.”

I blinked in surprise and regarded her, “Should the empress own such things? It could ruin you if it is discovered.”

She chuckled, “Messalina the empress does not own it, I have various alias’. Go there, tell them Lycisca sent you and do not return until morning. I have to appease my husband tonight anyway. I think you will find the place to your liking.” Although I did not wish to leave her, my need drove me to obey. I made for the lupanar she had indicated.

It was like no other. I knew at once that it had been designed to be more like a temple than a brothel. The thick incense, the figurettes of the mysterious deity, they all reminded me of the makeshift temple I had created at my first home. Messalina was a strict mistress who expected the girls there to share the same appetites as her. As such many would not stay long, unable to keep up with her demands. As a result, over time her brothel gathered the most shameless and sex-obsessed workers in the city, giving them a notoriety and fame that had many flocking to them. I indulged in things there that other lupanars would never have allowed. None of them were Lilitu, however, they were crazed, broken things that had all of our lust but none of our will. Whilst I would have preferred to be free on the streets, it still felt good to be on a mat opening my legs to all again. I was free to give my usual charge and took many that night.

When I returned, before the sun crested the horizon, Messalina was there waiting for me where we pleasured one another again. Of late I espied traces of white cosmetics on her skin yet said nothing. Feeling better than I had in a long time and not wishing to kill the mood I said nothing still. As she pressed her sex against mine I described the pleasures of her brothel I had worked at just earlier, still cum drunk and lustful. Idly, I suggested we sneak out the palace and work as diabolares together. It was a fantasy of mine. I was utterly enchanted by her and I longed for a time when Messalina and I could flee the restrictions of Rome and travel the world together, whoring ourselves from land to land. She gave me that smile of hers but gave no answer to this.

“Sister. Try this, it is magnificent.” Messalina held out a small, wax sealed jar. It was morning, I had just returned from working at the brothel, still aflame as usual, and more so now that I was back in the presence of my empress.

I took the jar as she supped from her own, letting the sticky fluid dance over her tongue. I knew well what it was, for I was with her when the Egyptian ambassador, hearing rumour of her depravity, offered the gift. As I opened mine Messalina gave a throaty sound of approval before swallowing. “Exquisite, I have never tasted better.”

I smiled and sniffed the jar, the scent setting my thighs damp again. I took the fluid and let it flow over my palette. The empress considered herself quite the connoisseur of semen. This was supposedly semen taken from a man in Egypt whose seed had healing properties, increasing virility and fertility. Apparently his phallus is so huge that it would kill any woman to sleep with him. Of course, Messalina ordered the ambassador to send this man to break her at once, in the meantime she appreciated the gift. Whilst the taste of semen thrilled me and rejuvenated me, unlike Messalina I could rarely tell the difference. Now was no exception, “Delightful, but I prefer taking mine from the source.”

She tutted and sealed the box that held another four jars. Then she rose from the dresser and embraced me, fingers working their way into my vulva. We were always naked these days, only when Messalina had to make a public appearance did she deign to conceal herself, and even then only just.

What of her husband the Emperor Claudius? At first, when required to be with him, Messalina would don her respectable robes and give the appearance of the doting wife and chaste empress. As time wore on, however, and her reputation grew more and more infamous she would appear at his side wearing less and less, until everyone but apparently he knew her for what she was.

Yet I believe the emperor was well aware of her antics. I think Claudius the man was excited by her ways and appreciated her skill in the bedroom. Claudius the emperor, however, would be unable to condone such behaviour and would have to punish her severely. Caught between desire and demand, he did what he had always done in difficult situations, played the dumb fool and pretended to be blind to it.

We spent the morning pleasuring eachother until she rose, “There shall be plenty more cock to drink from tonight dear sister. I have to attend to my husband today, meet me here when the sun has fully set tonight. It is time I showed you my greatest secret.” With a wink, she then left me there, wondering.

Suddenly free all day, I returned to the lupanar. Life as Lilitu is one long orgy, my body never quenched of desire. I so wanted to stay in the streets hunting for clients. Every moment I was not being used was a torment for me. The only thing in my life that I cherished more than harlotry was Messalina. As such, I returned promptly after dusk.

The guards were well accustomed to me, most knew me intimately, and let me through. Once I reached Messalina’s room I was greeted by numerous copae bustling around a figure. Seeing me they stepped away to reveal Messalina, only not as I knew her. Her luscious dark hair was tucked away under a blonde wig and her olive skin was powdered to alabaster. In Rome blonde women were usually cheap prostitutes, having traveled from the north to give their services. Seeing Messalina become as such made me want to have her all the more. Her new look positively dripped with depravity and dark delights, “You look beautiful.” I breathed.

She moved to me with that sinuous grace and kissed me, her touch setting me alight again, “I am Lycisca, a pleasure to meet you.” I wanted to touch her, to take her there and then but I dared not ruin her cosmetics. She moved to the door and offered an arm to me, “Shall we?”

We left the palace and walked the street hand in hand. I sensed Messalina’s joy and it lifted my spirits also, for tonight she was not empress and there was no empire to worry about. Tonight we were simple whores looking for clients, Lilitu in our hunting ground. As we walked, meeting the eyes of wanderers who regarded us hungrily I asked, “How long have you been doing this?”

Messalina, or Lycisca, winked at a drunken man that gawked at her, “Years. Like you sister this is what I am.” She sighed, “This is what I was meant to be. Not a prize for some oaf. Not ruler of some corrupt and hypocritical nation. I am Lilitu, I am a whore, not a cunnus like those ‘virtuous’ women but something truer, something more base.”

Our conversations often came to this. We were well aware of what we are, but we did not fully understand why were like this. Whilst true to ourselves we struggled to fully understand ourselves. I squeezed her hand slightly, “Why return? Let’s leave this place, become Lycisca forever.”

Messalina shook her head sadly, then looked up, “Ah, here we are.”

We approached a lupanar, already open and busy, various women displaying their wares outside. I felt slight disappointment. I had thought we would work as diabolares tonight, walking the alleys and working in corners for no more than two coins. I frowned as we drew closer, “This is not one of yours.”

“I never work at my own brothels, too risky.” She breathed quicker as we drew near, her excitement was growing, “Come, I’ll talk Estris into letting us share a room.”

When we entered I could tell from the poor state of repair that only the cheapest harlots came here. I took comfort from the fact that none of them would be registered and felt my adoration of Messalina grow, for she chose to be prostibulae rather than meretices. She could easily have been a pampered courtesan under that alias but like me she was not satisfied by such lifestyles. Her need was raw like mine, agonising and ecstatic at the same time. The owner greeted Lycisca with warm familiarity and readily agreed to her sharing a room with me. It seemed Lycisca was popular and much welcomed by brothel owners.

When we entered the small room with the stained and filthy mat on the floor my loins burned. The sight of such mats always gave me the urge to lay on them and open my legs. Looking at Messalina she felt the same. Together we lay upon it, clasped hands and spread ourselves. It was not long before men were pulled by our aura and the first customers entered.

Admittedly, Lycisca got more attention than me, not that I did not have plenty to cater to. There was hardly a gap between each, as soon as one left another would enter, ready to thrust into us. Of course, being whores we did not give ourselves until we were offered meager coin. It never ceased to excite me, opening my legs for pittance like the cheap harlot I am. To be violated and defiled made me feel more alive than any play or arena. None of it thrilled me more, however, than to see Messalina’s joy. She had all the wealth she could ever want, yet she would trade it all to sell herself for a few obols. I could only watch in envy and admiration as she reached heights of ecstasy and perversity that I struggled to inspire men to do to me. The powder on her body became smeared, her wig shifted to let her natural hair tumble out. Lost in rapture of her lust, she was beyond the point of caring if she was discovered or not. All that mattered was the next phallus, its addictive gift, and the pleasures it brings.

All too soon, the brothel closed and we were forced out. Using our earnings we paid Estris and made our way back arm in arm, laughing and joking. We stank of that familiar odour of sweat and semen, our loins still burning for more. Messalina laughed and tossed her small pouch of earnings in the gutter, liking the idea I did the same. We returned to the palace and fucked like animals for the rest of the night until we finally exhausted ourselves and lay in eachother’s arms once more, falling to decadent dreams.

Nearly every night after we did this. As the sun set the debased and beautiful Empress Messalina would transform into the beautiful and debased prostibulae Lycisca. We would go to various lowly lupercal and take as many clients as we could, our vulvas forever demanding more, taking cock in every orifice and feeding from the seed they gave. Eventually we would be turfed out. The more seed a Lilitu took in one period the more she became what I can only call cum-drunk (not in the same sense as you mortals!). Whilst others stumbled home drunk on wine we stumbled home drunk on semen. Any earnings we made we would throw to the side for the beggars to fight over. That we got to be Lilitu that night was payment enough.

4: My Beloved

“Beloved…” Messalina drew the word out, “I had one of my whores do some research into our nature. Tell me, when did you realise you were Lilitu?”

I stirred, staying in her arms on the mat I was now so familiar and fond of. At some point we had gone from being sisters to true lovers, and we could not be happier. We had been together about a year now and never before did she ask me about my awakening. I sensed it was a private thing and did not press about hers. But now that we were so close, it felt right to tell her how I grew to become the way I am. She listened without interruption, then without askance from me described her own.

“You no doubt heard of the various depravities of the previous emperor Caligula? Well, I can tell you they do not begin to touch on the many wonders he did. Looking back now he was definitely not like us, but perhaps a male version of Lilitu, if there is one. He was so beautiful, angelic in his features.

“He first took a liking to me the moment my mother introduced me. It was not long before he took my virginity. Eventually he married me to the hesitant Claudius where I obediently bore him two sons. Not long after that he began prostituting me along with many other roman wives, seeming to find the whole idea funny, he even did this to his own sisters. Unlike many, however, I did not obey with tears but took great delight in this. It simply felt natural to behave in that manner. I left the rearing of my children to the nurses, left my duties to spend more time whoring myself. It felt good to be free from that empty life and dedicate myself to something more raw and passionate. I think Caligula saw something in me and took me to a secret chamber.

“It was a large room arranged like a temple. On an altar was a clay relief of a woman with talons standing on two lions, with owls to either side of her. There was nothing overly magnificent with the depicture, but there was a power in that artefact. As soon as I laid eyes on it I orgasmed violently and fell to my knees in adoration. Caligula was pleased by my reaction and explained it to be the legendary effigy of the goddess Artemis from Orthia, that inspired the Spartans to flagellate themselves. But I knew he was wrong, it was no virgin huntress on that effigy but a deity far greater and shameless. He let me endure the ecstasy of being near the effigy a while longer before sending me back to his personal lupanar for the nobels. That night I dreamt of the mother deity I love, naked and enchanting, and inspiring me to greater heights of ecstasy.

“Caligula had done the same to a few women, but most lost their minds after being near it. Two of his three sisters were such victims, their minds consumed by their new found lust. I set up my lupanars to be a shelter for such failed sisters.

“Anyway, that was my awakening. My lusts grew, my body changed, I was Lilitu from then on.”

I listened, amazed, “Where is this artefact nowadays?”

Messalina shrugged, “Gone, like many other treasures after Caligula’s death. It matters not as you know. We are Lilitu, we do not need objects to be near our mother, we want for nothing. We live only for our lusts.”

“I lust for you, always.” I said, she squeezed me gently, “Why are you telling me this now?”

“As I said, I had one of my whores do some research. Of all people, it seems our answers lay amongst the Jews. They speak fearfully of what they call a demoness, and the rabbis are often doing supposed purges at houses apparently haunted by her daughters. The information was rather confused, so I do not know what they call our mother. But I have the name of the world she dwells in.”

“World she dwells in?”

“On the rare occasions you sleep, do you not dream of strange landscapes, where strange monsters fuck you over and over and other unheard of depravities are indulged?” When I nodded she went on, “I believe we are glancing her realm, our true home. Gamaliel.”

“Gamaliel?” Unlike Lilitu the term meant little to me.

“Apparently it means ‘Obscene Ones.'”

I laughed and gently rubbed her clitoris, “Well we certainly are that. So you are telling me there will come a time when we must go to this Gamaliel to be fucked by monsters for eternity?” She responded to my fiddling and drew close. I could tell she felt the same as me. I was both scared and excited by this prospect. In my rare dreams I saw those brutes with ridiculous phalluses doing wondrous things to me without end, and I accepting it with pleasure. The thought of it set me flaring with desire again, was that what our mother was preparing us for all along? “Well, there is likely more to it, we are whores after all, not cunnus. Not even monsters can have me without a price. When the time comes, we shall go there hand in hand, taking and sucking monster cock for all time together.”

She laughed at my brazenness. The tension eased, I set to her labia with my tongue.

******

One day Messalina revealed another gift given to our kind.

I found her sitting on one of the palace balconies. Legs open, she was too high up for the people to clearly make her out. It likely amused her, to be the empress sitting naked before all yet discernible to none. I ran over at once, “What are you doing? Get off there before you fall!”

As I took her arm and tried to pull her away she giggled, “You know, my love, considering you’re the one who does not have an empire to run you can be such a bore.” Then she clasped my own arm, gave a mighty yank, and sent us both falling to the garden below.

As the wind whistled past my ears, I could hear Messalina laughing as she fell beside me. I did not know what to feel exactly as death grew closer. There was the fear of it but also the sting of my love’s betrayal. Had she gone mad and sought to end us both?

Then, without thinking, I righted myself and landed on my feet like a cat. Messalina did the same beside me. The impact alone should have at least broken our legs in multiple places, yet there we stood unscathed. “We live, are you hurt?”

Messalina hugged me, “When I was young I took a similar tumble, only to discover the same result. Dare I say it, I think we are immortal.” She stepped back and gave a faraway look, “I did other experiments…”

I winced, trying not to dwell on what sort of experiments they were. “You knew all this time. Why did you not tell me?”

Messalina’s humour left completely at that, “Do you know what such vitality could mean for our kind? I was worried you may indulge even darker pleasures. I know I am tempted, but the thought of seeing you do such things…”

I understood at once and was instantly terrified of the urges this brought about in me. To stop it I pictured Messalina doing such things and my lust turned to revulsion. “Let’s make a promise, for the sake of eachother we will never fall to such acts.”

Messalina’s humour returned, that smile setting my heart racing. “Agreed.” She then pushed me onto the flowerbed and set to.

******

After hearing of my awakening, she had mirrors set up all over the palace. Whenever she held bacchanalias, she would fill the room with all manner of mirrors. I was delighted when she showed me a mirror imported from the far east, filled with mercury. Unlike the crude mirrors of polished metal this provided an excellent reflection. Like me Messalina believed they may act as gateways to what some called Gamaliel. In setting up so many mirrors she hoped to attract our deity and provide a gateway for her to enter.

Did it work? Honestly, I am not sure. At first, no, not that it mattered. Ourselves and the participants took great delight in being able to admire our deeds via such things. One night however, when the empress played host to a particularly busy festival, I saw something unusual.

I was sporting with the wife of a senator whilst he watched at the time. I looked up and, the air was thick with incense and my head buzzing with wine so it may have been me, but I thought I saw shadows stepping from the mirrors and wandering amongst the languishing crowd. I never used herbs and drugs like many did, nothing that would dull the sensations, so it was not that. They were particularly numerous around Messalina, who was having all her holes filled by several men as usual. I finished with the woman and strode to the large mercury mirror. I saw my naked reflection and watched as shadows flocked around me and caressed my body with spindly limbs. Wherever they touched I felt my lust grow and my need for perversity bloom to depravity.

I was terrified of course, but captivated also. I spread my arms and offered myself to the things , enjoying the sensations they filled me with. After a moment, I turned from the mirror and returned to the party more eager than before. The participants all seemed to feel it in some manner, and set to with a vigour I had never encountered previously. Messalina would later say she saw nothing, but agreed that she had felt more enflamed than usual that night. I never saw it occur again, so it really could have just been my mind playing tricks. Much like the shadow I thought I saw when I first met my love. But I could not help but regard the mirrors warily from then on, wondering if the lustful monsters from our dreams awaited us just on the other side.

******

I halted in the street, we were heading back to the palace after another night in one of the lupanars. Messalina carried on a couple of steps before realising I had paused and regarded me. I looked her over in return. Somehow she looked even more radiant covered in semen she had yet to absorb, her blonde wig frayed, white powder smeared. I, the epitome of lust, was in love with her. My heart fluttered painfully, my loins ached for freedom from the confines of the palace. At least both my emotions agreed on this, I had to say it now before I lost my nerve. I held out a hand to her, “Messalina, run away with me.”

Messalina seemed surprised. Was she really that unaware of my wishes? “What nonsense is this?”

“Let us leave this restrictive place. We could live like this forever, we are Lilitu, not politicians, not nobles. We are whores of the goddess. We could travel the world together as diabolares, experience new sensations until the time for us to enter Gamaliel comes.” The more dreams we had since discussing this other world, the more convinced we became that it was our inevitable fate to go there. Just thinking of that dreadful end made me wet with anticipation. “Let’s not waste ourselves here any longer.”

Clever, witty, diplomatic Messalina was at a loss for once. I watched the Lilitu and the empress within her fight a war I could only witness. I waited in hope for the right one to win. Eventually she gave a forced laugh and turned to head for the palace, my offer dismissed, “Don’t be silly Scylla. Come on, the sun will rise soon.”

My fingernails dug into my palms. I wanted to scream at her, to argue with her. I was on the verge of leaving her altogether, but knew to do so would only hurt us both further. No, all I could do was follow and ask my mother deity to help me make her see sense.

******

We continued on as before after that. Whilst still lovers there was an unspoken rigidity between us now. Although I would go to the lupanars with her I did not go to her own any longer, choosing instead the streets as I was accustomed. This irked her greatly for fear of my safety. We both knew that if many learned of our inhuman nature we would not last long. But I was growing more and more weary of the aristocracy she tied me to and longed for the freedom of the open streets.

She felt the same, I could tell. Although she loved me I had also become a torment for her, a door to freedom she could not quite bring herself to step through. Perhaps this was the catalyst for the strange behaviour that came over her regarding the mirrors.

I noticed she would look longer and harder at reflections than usual. She would stop mid-stride at times to look into a reflective surface. The majestic mercury mirror she had acquired was moved into her room where she would gaze at it transfixed. I asked her why the sudden fascination but she dismissed it as inconsequential.

It was when we attended the latest play that I learned why. Messalina clapped with the rest of the audience when the bard finished and the pantomime began. Seated beside her, I could only watch and feign interest, bored already. There were a few whispers amongst the audience at how mad the empress must now be, to not only attend the play naked, but to have a slave seated beside her as though she is someone of worth. But most knew to remain quiet, for Claudius was utterly bewitched by her. A gentle whisper or persuasion during coitus was all that was required now to have the emperor do her bidding.

I dully took it all in. Lilitu, I learned, took little interest in music or art and the like by mortals, by prey. For me the sweetest music was Messalina’s moans of pleasure, the way she adapted to satisfy every client an art, the moment they climaxed onto her poetry. As my love had said, a Lilitu’s tastes are simple yet complex. With a finger I beckoned a slave forward and entertained myself by orally pleasuring him.

Messalina, being like myself, was not drawn there constantly by the play but by a certain actor. The famous and much sought for Mnester. We are incredibly vain creatures and not above flattery from those truly besotted by us. Messalina took great pleasure when Mnester would dedicate a show or song to her. The man, for his part, had become infatuated with the empress and was sincere in his little speeches. Messalina was so flattered she had a statue of the actor cast in bronze. I ignored it all and continued sucking. Let the bards and senators prattle about trivialities, this is what my mouth is for.

Once he ejaculated down my throat, I dismissed him and looked to my royal companion. I was expecting her to be doing something similar. She had the knack of taking in conversations and the like whilst whoring, a necessity for a Lilitu with a political career I suppose. Instead, she was utterly transfixed on the play.

No, not the play, an actor. No, not the actor, his prop. He was playing a soldier and was carrying a shiny, reflective shield. I could tell at once Messalina was seeing something in that reflection and felt my stomach knot in worry. I decided I would find out what was going on with her tonight, and would not take no as an answer.

Once the play was over we went backstage, where I entertained the actors and Messalina rewarded Mnester. Then Messalina and I retired to a curtained litter, the silk curtains granting privacy from the crowd beyond. She took out a mirror under one of the pillows we lounged upon and began to look at herself. I snatched it from her, “I want answers, my love. It is clear to me that you see something in the mirrors now. Tell me.”

Messalina set her jaw grimly, then exhaled, resigned, “I did not wish to worry you, but it seems too late for that. Remember the shadows you thought you saw? Well, I cannot fully say, but now and again I snatch glimpses of them in mirrors. If I stare long enough I can just about make them out. Either way, I feel like they are calling to me. I could be wrong but-” She leaned forwards and clasped my hands, “I think my time to enter Gamaliel is approaching.”

I was speechless at first, unsure whether to congratulate her or weep. We were both conflicted with desire and terror for the fate that awaited us there. The thought of losing her is what won over it all. I drew back a curtain and threw the mirror out into the street, “Get all the mirrors in the palace removed at once!”

Messalina shook her head, both joyous and sad, “It is where we belong beloved.” Her body trembled slightly in both fear and lust for that strange plane.

“I have heard no such calls. I will not lose you, we go together or not at all.” I begged more than demanded.

Messalina thought on this and nodded, “Yes, should they come for me I will forestall it until we are together.”

I could only take some form of comfort from that promise.

5: My Grief

In the end, the ambitious persona Messalina struggled to discard would bring about her downfall.

Messalina summoned me to her bedroom one morning. I arrived from a busy night in the streets. It was the yearly wine festival, when whores like me paid tribute to Venus Volgivava, the street walking aspect of the roman goddess. I should note that the cunnus Venus is not my deity, I merely took advantage of the numerous attendees. I was in a good mood, I had taken more men than I had for a long time and was giddy and lustful from the copious seed my body accepted.

She was not on the mat this time but the bed beside it, the mercury mirror still there opposite. I wanted it gone but Messalina refused, unlike me her lust for Gamaliel just outdid her fear. When I entered the room she was there again, sitting at the end of the bed gazing into it as though in a trance. It had been getting worse, more and more she would stare into reflective surfaces, drawn by what she saw.

I noticed a handsome man donning his robes and taking his leave, giving me a wink as he left. I smiled back, well acquainted with Senator Gaius Sillius. A handsome man who was fast rising in the senate. Once gone I switched my focus back to my beloved. Messalina did not look away from the mirror, did not know I was there, so intently did she stare. Slowly, she began to open her thighs, as though offering herself to her reflection.

I gave a low cough and she sharply closed her legs and looked away. She hopped up and greeted me, her tongue down my throat before I could voice my concern again. We fornicated for a long time, she was more enigmatic than usual, which meant I was collapsed on the bed exhausted by the end. As she lay next to me, idly stroking my torso, she giggled and spoke, “I have a wonderful secret for you my love.” Interested, naturally, I asked to hear it, “I am going to bring about a new age. An age where people such as you and me are no longer shunned into the back alleys, where whoredom is only ever a choice, not a last resort. The whores in my brothels shall be the first priestess’ of the new way. The way where we do not hide our natural urges. The way where a woman can open her legs without feeling unclean. The way where a man can choose a woman because he desires her rather than her dowry. Temples to our mother deity will be established, an age of freedom shall prevail over the current one of control, and I shall rule over it all as Meretrix Augusta.”

As Whore Empress. I grew alarmed, my dream from so long ago returned to me and I knew at once its meaning. Our deity was still somewhat of a mystery to us, guiding us from a distance. But I knew one thing, she did not give a fig about empires, kingdoms or crowns. She is a being who followed her desires as she had inspired me to do. She is a being who hates order and would destroy any such thing presented to her, no matter how sincere. The only order she follows is that of nature. We Lilitu are meant to be wild and free, out in the open hunting men like predators after prey, not donning crowns and titles. I knew then that dream had been a warning for me to give to the empress. That she had to exchange her crown for whoredom or the world around her would turn to ash. It was time for her to choose, live her life as Lilitu and follow her whims, or live as empress and fall like the countless rulers and empires before her. I told all this to her of course, fearing the ruin my love was heading to. “Flee with me.” I begged, giving the old offer again, “We could flee to Egypt, they have all manner of forbidden acts there for us to indulge in. Or we could leave the empire altogether, keep going east to India, think of the exotic things they must do there.”

It was all in vain. She was lost in her vision of a glorious new world and the ambition in her had ignited anew. When I asked just how she intended to bring about such a change she smiled and leaned close to me, the smell of the senator still on her, “I have been speaking with dear Gaius Sillius.” She kissed my neck and spoke softly into my ear, “We shall have that oaf Claudius assassinated, we shall wed. Together, we shall begin forcing the senate to pass new laws that shall change Rome and, with it, the world.” Again I argued against it. The very fact that they had to be wed to achieve this meant they were falling into the trap of this society. Marriage went against all the tenets of Lilitu. To become the property of of a man, and just to one man at that, was barbaric to us. To surrender our own sovereignty and freedom to become an obedient and doting wife was the cruelest of fates in our eyes.

I know now that even if they achieved it it would have fallen into ruin, as all empires and kingdoms eventually do. Why was I so blind? The dream had been telling me all this from the start, if I had realised it earlier perhaps I could have convinced Messalina of the foolishness of kingdoms.

All I could do was watch helplessly as she brought about her own downfall. Whilst the emperor was away in Ostia she married Gaius Sillius, who had divorced his own wife, whilst Messalina was still wed to Claudius. In true Messalina style, she attended the nuptiae wearing only a laurel, her naked splendour on show for all to appreciate. As if to prove to me the ceremony meant nothing to her she insisted we arrive freshly fucked. So we spent the morning in a lupanar. Our bodies had absorbed most of our hard earned fluids but there were still trace stains on Messalina’s breasts as she walked to the altar, still giddy from the semen. I watched her go, knowing this would come to no good end.

Sillius was beaming, clearly obsessed with her like her many other high ranking lovers who attended. I noted Mnester was amongst the crowd, to my surprise I even saw Senator Rufus there. There was no jealousy, no one expected her to be faithful, indeed her free spirit was what had them all captivated by her. But none of them had the deep feelings for her that I did, as such I did not smile or clap as the vows were given.

She had slaves enact just about every possible sexual act for entertainment afterwards. Some of the attending ladies fainted when the slaves performed the more scandalous positions. It was a celebration fitting and typical of Messalina, were it not for my worries I would have enjoyed the festivities fully.

******

Then the heartbreaking day came.

We were lounging in the Gardens of Lucullus, at the nymphaeum oddly enough, laughing and joking together and speaking excitedly of the delights we would have at the lupanar that night. We were on a white bench. Rome had a strange love for marble, a taste I shared since it had similar colours to my main diet. We were strangely at ease that day, as carefree as when Messalina had first introduced me to Lycisca. The tension between us that we never spoke of was absent. There was no argument over the coming assassination. That day we were just two Lilitu enjoying the pleasures life had to offer us.

There was a commotion at one of the entrances. A tearful woman of mature years ran in, clutching a dagger to her chest, guards chasing close behind. She screamed Messalina’s name.

Shocked, Messalina rose, “Lepida?”

Surprised, I took in Messalina’s natural mother. I say natural mother, upon awakening we tend to regard our deity as our true mother, the bodies we are born from just a means of our existence. Naturally she was not beautiful like Messalina, but the vague similarities were there. Me beloved walked over to Lepida and they conversed in hushed and panicked tones. I watched this awhile, growing more and more disturbed. I rose and was about to go to her when Messalina turned back to me, “My love, a pressing issue has arisen which I must attend to. Forgive me but I cannot join you tonight. Please go ahead now and enjoy yourself.”

The concern did not abate. She nearly always gave me a time which I was to return to her, neither of us being able to be without one another long. “Beloved, what is it? Is it regarding Sillius?” I said Sillius rather than the assassination, for I doubt Lepida was involved in the plot.

“There is no time to argue.” She embraced and kissed me, sending me flushing with need of her again, “I love you, Scylla. Please, I need you to do as I say now more than ever.”

“I love you, Messalina.” Never had words meant so much to me, and been so woefully inefficient at conveying my feelings, “When shall I return?”

She considered this a moment, then shook her head, “I know not how long this will last. Go to one of my own lupanars at every sunrise, when all is well I shall have a messenger placed at each one to send you to me.”

Fretting for her but knowing my presence would only distress her further, I did as she bid.

With a heavy heart I left the magnificent garden and Messalina for the city. I was sick with worry for her, my stomach in knots. All I could do was the Lilitu equivalent of an alcoholic. I fucked and drank in cum until the drunkeness came upon me. I walked the streets and fucked madly, tossing away the obols even as they gave them to me. When possible I would take several at once, seeking to smother my anguish with my lust.

Still, I would seek out one of her lupanar each morning, to find no messenger waiting for me there. My anxiety rising with each sunrise, I would return to the street again. I should have been happy, I was living solely as Lilitu again, after so long. My days and nights were with client after client, a never ending series of orgasms and the taste of semen, separated only by the brief moments when I would check at the lupanar for the messenger. But I wanted to live as Lilitu with my love beside me, I wanted us to enjoy the delights gifted to our kind together.

Then, one terrible morning, I heard the news. I was in a narrow alley, a client hammering into my anus. I moaned in pleasure at the violation and as usual let the obols slip from my fingers into the drain. I barely took in the herald at first, public affairs were human concerns, not mine. But when I heard Messalina’s name I took note.

As the client ejaculated his seed into my rectum I gasped in both pleasure and horror as the news of Messalina’s death was made public.

As the man, spent, went on his way I could only fall to the pavement and numbly listen to the news. The herald listed some of Messalina’s debaucheries, ending it with her and Sillius’ failed plot to kill the current emperor. With t he exception of Senator Rufus who revealed the marriage and plot, all who had attended the illegal wedding were executed. As if to add insult to injury, they accused them both of failing to do the honourable thing. Sillius was executed and Messalina, though offered a dagger by her respected mother, could not do it and was killed by an officer instead.

For hours I could only sit there, passersby choosing to ignore the naked whore slumped in the alley. Of course, my aura still brought men, and my inhuman body still craved for them, uncaring for my feelings. I woodenly took them into me, distantly embracing my harlotry still, whilst the core of me was in grief for my Messalina. Eventually I rose, coins falling away, and aimlessly walked the streets. She was gone now, all I could do was live as Lilitu as I had wanted, albeit alone.

As days went by and I continued in this manner I began to piece things together and realise they did not make sense. I cursed at myself for not realising sooner. The main nonsense was that Messalina was killed by a dagger. We Lilitu are virtually immortal, I had no idea what could exactly kill us, if anything, but I doubted a simple dagger thrust would do it.

Part of me was tempted to go to the lupanar or rush to the palace for answers, but a damnatio memoriae had been declared against the former empress. Every statue and object giving her memory was to be destroyed. I had no doubt that her favourite slave would be no exception.

If I was to discover what really happened, I had to be careful about it. I needed to find one who claimed to witness her death.

Considering what I am it was not hard. A gentle question to a client here, a thought spoken aloud to a suitor there, and soon I was in a barracks full of sleeping soldiers.

As I crept in I ached to awake them all and let an orgy begin. Although asleep they sensed my aura and their dreams turned sordid. But there was only one I sought there this night. Lying on his bunk was the one who apparently killed the empress himself. With a grace that came with ease to my kind I picked up a sword, straddled the sleeping officer and placed it at his throat. A hand over his mouth, a harsh jab and he was awake. There was lust in his eyes as he awoke from his dreams to find the object of it on him. Then there was fear when he felt the blade against his jugular. “I know you did not kill Messalina. You are going to tell me the truth, understand? You are going to tell me quietly.”Whatever he had been paid was not worth his life. He nodded and I removed my hand. I felt his erection through the sheets and had to fight my own rising urges, “Speak!”

“You are like her, aren’t you?” It was not really a question, so I did not answer it. “She did not die, at least I don’t think so. But it cannot get out. If the people learn that the empress was a witch the emperor’s credibility will be destroyed. There will be rebellion, chaos.”

I pressed the blade closer, “Do not deviate, what happened to her?”

He went pale as he recollected it, “I was beside her mother who gave her the dagger. Lepida chided her for acting like a whore and demanded she rescue their family’s reputation by at least ending herself. The empress said nothing, she took the dagger and seemed to admire her looks in the blade. Then she quietly turned and went to a nearby fountain and looked at her reflection in the pool.

“We thought she was gathering courage to do it, so we did not hurry her. But she stared into the water a long time, until the dagger fell from her hands and she stepped into the water. “She fell in as though it were a well. We ran over there but she was nowhere to be seen. I hopped into the water myself but it was only a few inches deep, sure as the sword you have at my neck. There was no door hidden there, the waters did not even ripple as she fell in. It was clearly witchcraft.”

The faint hope that I had gained died. I instinctively knew that she had been taken to Gamaliel, to whore herself to those monsters for eternity. Although I did not feel any blame, she had broken her promise.

“Please, I have a family.” I slit his throat and walked out, leaving a red spray to pollute the air. His gurgled cries awoke no one, lost as they were to dreams of me.

I left Rome and did what I had wanted Messalina and I to do together. I traveled from land to land as diabolares, experiencing new sensations that my kind delight in so much. My grief faded to a fragile scar, occasionally reopening.

Sometimes when I passed a large mirror or reflective surface I would press myself against it, begging them to take me also, anything to let me be with her. I would call for her also, telling her she promised we would go together.

So I went on living as Lilitu, sex incarnate. I sought the seediest districts of every city, my natural habitat. Only a couple more times over the centuries did I come across another of my kind, but they did not have the effect that Messalina had on me, beautiful though they were. My life was one an unending orgy from then on, all preparing me for the day I am to go to where my kind belong, to my true home.

Only once have I dreamt of that world with my love in it. She was there, legs wide, being gang-fucked by those things unendingly. Stuffed full of cock and saturated with their seed. I saw her eyes and I saw the bliss there, when I awoke I cried out, longing to be with her, to be beside her whoring myself to those creatures eternally. With my love gone my lust for that world easily overtook my fear. But I never heard their call.

Until now…

Epilogue: A Room Full of Doorways

“Until now?” Black repeated, looking up from his laptop. God I want her, he thought, please open yourself to me when this is done sweet Lilitu.

Scylla gave Black a smile that made him whimper quietly with want, “I have been hearing the calls of late, after all these centuries it is finally time. Gamaliel calls to me, my new clients demand my services. Most of all, Messalina is there, awaiting my companionship. I can see them in the mirror now, as surely as you see your own reflection.”

Painful though it was to take his eyes from her, Black nervously looked at the mirrors and shifted away from them. Sure enough he saw nothing save himself and Scylla on their surfaces. “How can you go to that hell?”

Scylla took a deep breath and rose gracefully, “Hell? To your kind it is perhaps, but to mine it is paradise. No, not paradise. It is home.”

She stepped towards one of the larger mirrors. “Wait.” Black realised she was leaving, the thought was unbearable, “Please, I need you, please.” He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out his loose change, “I have two coins, not obols but satang here.” Seeing her unmoved he grew desperate, “You are Lilitu, a whore priestess, you claim to open your legs to all but deny me? What bull is this!”

Scylla stepped from the mirror and kneeled beside him, “You have those things called sites where you can post this, no? You could do that now?”

Black glanced at the icon, he had just about enough signal, “Yeah I know a few.”

“Post them there now.” Utterly lost to her, he did as she bid, posting her beloved’s life on various sites and hoping at least a few would get past the moderators. When done Scylla gently put his laptop to one side and held his head gently in both her slender hands, “I’m afraid I can no longer provide my services to your kind. Instead I will gift you with the name of my goddess, the things in the mirror finally revealed it to me. Her true name, not the crass titles they give her here.” Black wept at the rejection, but waited astutely for the name of the goddess who created this perfect creature.

Black screamed as she did so, every inhuman syllable, impossible for mortal tongues to utter or comprehend, drilling through his ears and tearing his sanity apart. Some of the smaller mirrors cracked as reality was assaulted by sounds that did not belong there.

Scylla got up, leaving Black drooling in the foetus position on the floor. She returned to the mirror and spread her arms wide, her loins burned in eagerness, “I am ready. Take me to my love.”

The last thing Black saw before the remnants of his logical mind dissolved were numerous shadow limbs reaching out the mirror, taking hold of Scylla and hungrily pulling her in. Once fully in every mirror in the room burst into shards, unable to stand the visions they had wrought to her any longer. She was gone, lost to a world of endless depravity. Knowing he would never see such a magnificent creature again, Black had no desire to stay sane. No desire to go on. He consoled himself with the possibility that, reunited with eachother at last, this was a happy ending for his mistress. Hard as that was to accept.

The authorities found him there, crying and rocking like an infant amidst the mirror shards. At first when they read the decadent story on his laptop they thought he had set up a hoax, hoping to make a mint like those claiming their homes are haunted. As it became clear his mind was gone they instead assumed he had a bad trip with drugs that fried his mind permanently. He was eventually taken to a carehome where he remained until his death, whilst the story circulated the web, giving the curious a glimpse into the horrors and pleasures creation has to offer.

THE END