I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

After his long conversation with Athena, Nathan returned to Rome with far more than he had expected. Piece by piece, with deliberate persistence, he had fed her details about Caesar—subtle truths and carefully chosen implications—until even the wise goddess of strategy herself could no longer dismiss the matter as trivial. By the time she looked at him with that faint crease of worry upon her usually calm brow, Nathan knew he had succeeded.

Athena had not only taken him seriously—she had been concerned. For a goddess like her, that was already a victory.

It was she who brought him back to Rome, guiding him down from Olympus with the effortless authority of divinity. Before parting, she had requested something he expected: watch Caesar closely, and report anything strange. Nathan accepted without hesitation. It was not only the correct move but also what he wanted. The goddess’s trust was a treasure in itself.

By the time his feet once again touched Roman soil, the afternoon sun had begun its descent. Golden light poured across marble columns and tiled rooftops, casting long shadows that stretched like watchful sentinels over the city. The air carried the faint buzz of anticipation—for tonight, Rome would gather once more at the great amphitheater. Nathan himself would step into the arena in the second round of the gladiatorial tournament, alongside nearly eighty other hopefuls who had survived the brutal first trial.

And yet, despite the looming test of blood and steel, his mind was elsewhere.

Athena.

At first, Nathan had considered her as he did many others: a potential pawn to be enslaved, bent to his will. The thought had seemed practical, even natural. But now… after their recent exchanges, after seeing her genuine concern, the notion tasted bitter on his tongue. He cast it aside entirely, unless she one day gave him no choice but to act.

What unsettled him most was the unfamiliar tug in his chest whenever he thought of her. He liked her. More than he wished to admit. And though Nathan was no fool—he knew the day his true identity was unveiled would be a dangerous one—he couldn’t help but wonder: How would she react? Would she recoil in disgust… or stand by him still?

If she could be kept as an ally, it would be invaluable. Not merely for her influence as a goddess of Olympus, but because… he wanted her to stay.

Lost in these thoughts, Nathan finally reached the senate castle, the place granted to him as temporary quarters. The corridors were hushed, the marble floors echoing faintly beneath his steps as he entered his chamber. He pushed the heavy wooden door inward—only to pause.

Someone was already there.

On his bed, reclining as though she owned it, was a familiar figure. Her silhouette caught the last rays of sunlight that spilled through the high window, her hair tumbling loosely over the pillows.

A calm smile tugged at Nathan’s lips.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone amused, eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of her.

The woman stirred and lifted herself upon her elbows, her face lighting with relief as her gaze met his. Follow current novᴇls on novel⚑fire.net

“Ah… you’re finally here,” Fulvia exhaled, her voice carrying a soft warmth. “I searched for you. Where have you been?”

Nathan shut the door behind him, crossing the room with unhurried steps. “Away,” he answered simply, his voice lowered. “I told you already—it’s dangerous for us to meet like this. Caesar grows more suspicious by the day.”

Fulvia pouted, her delicate fingers twisting idly through strands of her hair. “Yes, I know. But…” she hesitated, her eyes softening, “I missed you.”

He sat beside her, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence heavy with things unspoken. Then, with the boldness that had always defined her, Fulvia swung her leg over him and straddled his lap.

Her perfume drifted around him, a faint floral sweetness that mixed with the lingering scent of Roman incense.

“My father has rallied many senators against Caesar,” she murmured, her face close to his, voice a conspiratorial whisper. “The word has already spread—about the corpse hanging on the wall. Everyone knows now that it was Marcus Antonius. And the people…” She paused, her lips curling into a faint smile. “The people are furious.”

Nathan’s brow lifted. “Furious?”

“Yes,” Fulvia confirmed, her fingers trailing lightly across his chest as though the intimacy of their touch could shield them from the weight of their words. “Marcus Antonius was beloved—especially by the soldiers, by those who fought beside him. They do not understand why Caesar would hide the truth, why he remains silent as though nothing happened. To them, it feels like betrayal. And betrayal festers.”

Nathan leaned back upon the bed, letting her words sink in. His hands, firm yet casual, rested on Fulvia’s hips, steadying her as he gazed up at her face. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips.

“That,” he said softly, “is very good news.”

For Caesar to lose the faith of his soldiers—his most loyal foundation—was more than a crack in his armor. It was the beginning of a fracture that could spread through all of Rome.

“You know I didn’t care really at first,” Fulvia said, reclining with a sly tilt of her head, “but now I really am impatient to see Rome without Caesar and all his dogs following his every word.” Her voice carried the mixture of boredom and venom that only the daughter of a Roman noble could wield, lips curling as though Caesar himself were present for her disdain.

“It will be better once we rid ourselves of them all at once,” Nathan said, his mind already picturing Fulvius’s hand in Rome’s future. “Your father is a patriot—he will gladly see it done.”

“My father really appreciates your work, you know,” she teased, her voice softening with laughter. She leaned closer, her hand grazing his arm, eyes glinting with something warmer than politics. “I have never seen him so impressed with anyone.”

Nathan’s mouth curved, though his eyes stayed cool. “I am not doing this for your father. I want alliances, stability—peace at the end of all this blood.”

Her tone changed, sharper, suspicious but still playful. “He knows that. And perhaps he thinks you hide your true plans. Perhaps he wonders what you really intend for Rome.”

“My plans for Rome?” Nathan’s voice was firm, almost biting. “I seek peace between Amun Ra and Rome, and also with the kingdom from which I hail.”

Fulvia’s pout turned mischievous, her jealousy flashing in her eyes. “With Amun Ra… is that for Cleopatra?” she asked, sulking, her words almost bitter.

“Yes,” Nathan replied smoothly. “She is a valuable ally.” He did not voice that she was also his woman, nor that Isis herself had requested it.

Fulvia’s lips pursed, the sulk deepening into a frown. Then, with a sudden shift, her voice lowered, almost husky. “And what about me? Am I as valuable as her?” Her hand, so casually draped on her lap, slid suddenly toward him, pressing against the firm bulge straining beneath his pants. He hadn’t even realized how close she had been until her fingers cupped him through the fabric, squeezing lightly. She had been rubbing herself subtly against him while they spoke of politics, the sly little grind of her hips masked beneath noble composure, and now there was no hiding it. She tugged at the fabric, freeing his cock into her waiting palm.

“Not as valuable—Cleopatra is a queen,” Nathan answered, his voice roughening as Fulvia’s soft hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking him to full hardness. “But you… you hold Rome’s blood in your veins. You have your own role to play.”

Her lashes fluttered, lips curving into a dangerous smile as she stroked him slow and steady, feeling the thick weight throb in her grip. “What role, exactly?” she purred, her wrist twisting delicately as she dragged her hand from root to tip, spreading the bead of slick pre-cum with her thumb.

“You will be my voice here,” Nathan said, watching her breasts rise and fall beneath her gown. “An important noble of Rome, lending your strength to mine.”

“It will be hard to give my voice to another man when my father plans to marry me off to some witless aristocrat,” Fulvia whispered, rising up slightly, tugging her gown aside with one hand while the other still stroked his cock. Her thighs parted, and she revealed herself without shame—bare, glistening, her pussy already wet and swollen. She positioned herself above him, the head of his cock brushing against her entrance.

Nathan’s hand shot to her hip, gripping her hard. His eyes narrowed, his words sharp. “Your father can dream.” Then he thrust upward, burying himself inside her in one brutal stroke.

“Ahhhhhh—haaaan❤️!” Fulvia’s cry tore from her throat, her back arching as his cock split her open, sliding deep into her unguarded pussy. She clutched at his shoulders, nails raking across his skin as her body trembled from the sudden fullness. “It’s—so big—hnnnn❤️! It’s rubbing so deep inside!”

Nathan growled low, his hands roaming up her body, claiming her breasts through her gown. He kneaded roughly, then pulled the fabric down, exposing her full, pale tits to the air. His thumbs rolled over her nipples, making them pebble hard, before he bent forward to suck one deep into his mouth.

“Haaaan❤️~~yeees❤️, suck it, yesss!” Fulvia moaned, her hips rocking instinctively, bouncing on his lap as her pussy clutched around his cock. The wet slap of her ass against his thighs filled the chamber, mixing with her gasping cries. She ground down harder, trying to take him deeper, her eyes rolling back as his cock swelled even thicker inside her.

Nathan thrust upward, meeting her rhythm, every stroke pounding against her tender walls. His smirk widened as he watched her lose composure, the proud noblewoman reduced to a shivering, moaning slut in his lap.

“Ahhh❤️—ahhh❤️! I—I can’t—Septimius—I’m—haaahhh❤️!” Fulvia’s eyes flew open as her climax tore through her. Her pussy clenched violently, spasms milking his cock as her fluids gushed down his shaft, soaking his thighs and dripping onto the bed. Her body shook, her moans high-pitched and broken as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through her.

But Nathan wasn’t finished. He grabbed her ass, standing abruptly with her still impaled on his cock. Fulvia gasped, clinging to his neck as he carried her across the room and slammed her back onto the door, never pulling out and started thrusting in her raging sensitive pussy.

The door rattled with every punishing thrust, wood groaning beneath the rhythm of their bodies. Nathan had lifted Fulvia as though she weighed nothing, slamming her back to the door without letting his cock slip free, driving into her over and over with raw force. Fulvia clung to him desperately, her arms locked around his neck, head thrown back as her breasts bounced against his chest. Her cries grew hoarse, frantic, a noblewoman undone into wanton need.

“Hhaaaan❤️! Yesss❤️! Gods—fuck me! More! Harder! Harder!” she screamed, voice cracking, every word spilling into a moan.

He obliged without hesitation, hips snapping forward with brutal speed, his cock stretching her slick, spasming pussy. The door trembled against the frame with the violence of his thrusts. His mouth found her breast, teeth closing on her nipple before his tongue soothed over it, sucking hard as his other hand pressed her ass tighter against him, forcing her to take every brutal inch. He licked up her throat, savoring the taste of her sweat, the salt of her flushed skin, and Fulvia writhed helplessly, her body shuddering on the edge of yet another climax.

But outside the chamber, just beyond the door that shook with every thrust, stood Licinia.

She had come to speak with Nathan, words of duty and diplomacy on her tongue—yet the moment she heard the cries, she froze. Fulvia’s voice, unmistakable in its desperation, filled the hall. Licinia’s eyes widened, her cheeks flamed, her breath hitched with shock. Nathan was fucking Fulvia. Here. Now.

Her heart hammered, not with outrage, but with a forbidden heat that stole the strength from her legs. Against her will, her imagination betrayed her—replacing Fulvia’s gasping moans with her own, picturing Nathan’s broad frame pinning her to that door, pounding into her virgin body until she broke on his cock.

Her trembling hand drifted down, clutching the fabric of her Roman gown over her thighs, tugging it tighter between her legs. She pressed against her pussy through the fabric, and even that pressure made her whimper.

“Haah~” The moan slipped unbidden from her lips. Her body betrayed her shame, burning with lust. She slipped her hand beneath the gown, fingers sliding into the damp heat of her virgin slit. Her folds were slick already, wet with desire she had no name for. She gasped softly as one fingertip slid inside, just barely breaching her tightness, while her thumb rubbed frantically over her swollen clit.

Inside, Fulvia’s cries were growing wilder. “Haaaan❤️! Yesss! Ohhh gods! Hyaaaan❤️, S…Septimius, I’m—haaahhh❤️!” The pounding of his hips against hers shook the door so hard that Licinia could almost feel the vibrations in her chest.

She shoved two fingers into herself, moaning louder as her body tensed. Her clit throbbed beneath her circling touch, her pussy clenched desperately around the intrusion. She imagined it was Nathan’s cock stretching her, pounding into her virgin tightness as ruthlessly as he was using Fulvia.

“Hmmmn❤️—ahhh❤️!” she gasped, head falling back against the wall, her free hand clutching at her breast through the gown. Her arousal grew unbearable, shame mixing with feverish pleasure until it boiled over.

Her body convulsed in climax, pussy spasming around her fingers as hot wetness gushed out, soaking her thighs and gown. She fell to her knees in the hall, trembling violently, her face streaked with tears of release and shame.