The Roman Tax Collector - (F/F)
Posted: Sun Jun 27, 2021 4:56 pm
The Roman Tax Collector — Part I
Tullia Consus - The Tax Collector
Laurentia - The Collateral
Vilneas - The Debtor
In the Era of Augustus, all was to be taxed. Every field, fallow or cultivated, every vineyard, every workshop, all was to be inventoried and taxed. With the Roman Legions out in the wilds of Gaul fighting, the bureaucracy of Rome needed men to index the land and collect the taxes.
But it was not always men.
Tullia Consus was incredibly beautiful, as if blessed by Venus. It was said that during her birth, a bright red star screamed across sky, a sure sign to her parents that she was blessed by the gods. As she developed, they were happy to be proven right: Tullia grew tall, with long dark hair and olive skin, her breasts and ass becoming the envy of every woman and the obsession of every man in their village. But her father was a tax collector, the hand of the Roman Empire in their backwater, and so no one dared cross him. She entertained the favor and the attention from the men she met, gratefully accepting their gifts and patronage but rejecting their advances. Tullia sometimes caught herself looking at the women of the village, following their curves and dreaming of what lay underneath their cloaks. But she had pushed those feelings away, deep within herself, and never explored them.
At 20, she was expected to be married, and so she left, taking what little belonged to her and traveling far across the empire, settling into a town south of Rome, and began work in the way of her father: as a tax collector.
Vilneas, a farmer, had land but little sense to use it. He had wanted to be a legionnaire, but had been rejected from the army, and so had staked a claim on his family’s land, to grow grapes for wine. The soil was rocky, and the grapes did not take. But his holding was large, as were his taxes. Tullia would come and demand payment, and with each season he had less and less to pay with.
It was a clear warm day when Tullia returned, guiding her oxen pulled cart along the dusty road beside the farm. Roman taxes could be paid in money or in goods, and many farmers or laborers in this part of the empire opted to hand over sacks of grain or woven clothing in lieu of payment. Tullia, learning the lessons of her father, always brought along a cart for such payments.
She approached Vilneas and greeted him as he labored over a stretch of vines.
“Vilneas, how’s the harvest,” she asked.
“Growing poorly,” he greeted. “At least half of my vines are barren. I turn the soil, but all I dredge up is more clay. And I have nothing else.”
Tullia surveyed the horizon. “Why not sell the land and move closer to the coast, where the vines will grow easier?”
“Sell to whom?” Vilneas asked. “My brother has long moved far from here, and my son talks only about the Legion, not about farming.”
“Vilneas, I have come to collect the taxes you owe to Rome. 100 Denarius, and I shall leave you to your vines,” Tullia said. Vilneas was typically one to barter.
“I cannot pay, tell Rome I cannot pay,” Vilneas said, turning and spreading his arms wide. “I have nothing. No livestock, no wine, just a departing son and a good for nothing daughter. There is nothing you may take.”
“Rome will not accept my empty hands,” Tullia argued. “If you cannot pay and you cannot barter, then I must take you with me, to work off the debt yourself.”
Vilneas’s face turned pale as he heard Tullia’s words. “No, I will not. I cannot. Anything but that.”
The silence was thick and heavy as the two faced each other, thinking. Tullia knew that indentured servitude was sometimes the way, but usually a farmer or a merchant always had one more thing they could give up before they were forced into it. It was just about timing, and it looked like Vilneas was approaching that point.
But then he called out for his daughter.
“Laurentia!” Vilneas called into the house. “She can serve until my debt is paid.”
“She cannot…” Tullia began, trailing off as Laurentia came out of the house.
Laurentia was beautiful in a way that Tullia did not think she had ever conceived of before. Laurentia had long flowing hair, almost to the small of her back, and it seemed so fine as to shimmer when she moved. Even wearing nothing more than a rough spun tunic, one could see her perky breasts poking out of the material, the curves of her body outlined by the fabric. She had small wrists and hands, almost dainty, not the type that a farmer’s daughter would have after twenty years of difficult work turning the soil.
Tullia immediately felt a heat within her, close to the stomach, that slowly spread throughout her body.
“Yes father?” Laurentia called, her voice high and sweet. She spoke quietly, although it carried quite clearly across the yard.
“You are to go with this woman,” Vilneas ordered, gesturing to Tullia. “You must do whatever she tells you. This I command.”
“Father, I will not,” Laurentia replied, her voice defiant, her hands on her hips. “You can’t use me to get out of your debts. I will not serve in your place.”
Laurentia was wrong. As an unmarried daughter, she had little authority to disobey her father, and Tullia couldn’t take her eyes off Laurentia.
She’s just like me, Tullia realized. She wants to escape, she doesn’t want the life her father wants her to have. I can help her, she thought as the heat within her reached a crescendo. I just have to make it look good.
As Laurentia argued with her father, Tullia returned to her cart, quickly searching through the small pile of bartered goods. Pushing aside an amphora of wine, she found what she was looking for: a spool of braided rope. Cutting off two 20 foot pieces, Tullia walked back to the pair and addressed Vilneas.
“Rome will accept her service as payment for your debt,” Tullia replied, a smile on her face. “Please, come with me,” she said to Laurentia, grabbing her wrist.
“No!” Laurentia yelled, yanking her arm away from Tullia.
“So, the hard way,” Tullia muttered, before using her weight to shove Laurentia back into the dried clay wall of Vilneas’s house. Tullia then grasped Laurentia’s upper arms, spinning her around so she faced the dried earth, before pushing her face into the clay.
“Mmmmhhhmmm” Luarentia’s shout was muffled by being shoved into the wall by Tullia, who quickly ran her hands down Laurentia’s arms to her small wrists, using her grip to force Laurentia’s wrists up behind her back into a reverse prayer position. Using her weight and her position, Tullia quickly wrapped one of the ropes around her wrists, pulling it achingly tight and tying it off, keeping the knots far enough away from Laurentia’s fingers so she had no hope of untying the ropes.
Laurentia started squirming and thrashing around, trying her best to rid herself of the ropes, to little effect. Tullia again took her by the arms, guiding her over to the cart. Sitting Laurentia down on it, Tullia took the second rope and tied Laurentia’s ankles, crossing them over each other and wrapping the rope again around them tightly before tying it off, the knot sitting just above her heel.
“I’ll kill you,” Laurentia threatened.
“I’m trying to help you,” Tullia whispered. “Just keep quiet.” Tullia took the small blade she had used before and sliced off a strip of Laurentia’s tunic, forcing it between her teeth to gag her. Laurentia only glared at Tullia as she carefully laid Laurentia down between the rest of the barter in her cart, carefully camouflaging her body.
The heat that Tullia felt inside of her did not dissipate, but rather increased like adding logs to a fire. Tullia could feel herself getting excited and aroused as she lead the ox cart away from Vilneas’s farm. All she could think about was the beautiful bound woman who was now her prisoner.
**First Post! How’d I do?**
—DDelta
Tullia Consus - The Tax Collector
Laurentia - The Collateral
Vilneas - The Debtor
In the Era of Augustus, all was to be taxed. Every field, fallow or cultivated, every vineyard, every workshop, all was to be inventoried and taxed. With the Roman Legions out in the wilds of Gaul fighting, the bureaucracy of Rome needed men to index the land and collect the taxes.
But it was not always men.
Tullia Consus was incredibly beautiful, as if blessed by Venus. It was said that during her birth, a bright red star screamed across sky, a sure sign to her parents that she was blessed by the gods. As she developed, they were happy to be proven right: Tullia grew tall, with long dark hair and olive skin, her breasts and ass becoming the envy of every woman and the obsession of every man in their village. But her father was a tax collector, the hand of the Roman Empire in their backwater, and so no one dared cross him. She entertained the favor and the attention from the men she met, gratefully accepting their gifts and patronage but rejecting their advances. Tullia sometimes caught herself looking at the women of the village, following their curves and dreaming of what lay underneath their cloaks. But she had pushed those feelings away, deep within herself, and never explored them.
At 20, she was expected to be married, and so she left, taking what little belonged to her and traveling far across the empire, settling into a town south of Rome, and began work in the way of her father: as a tax collector.
Vilneas, a farmer, had land but little sense to use it. He had wanted to be a legionnaire, but had been rejected from the army, and so had staked a claim on his family’s land, to grow grapes for wine. The soil was rocky, and the grapes did not take. But his holding was large, as were his taxes. Tullia would come and demand payment, and with each season he had less and less to pay with.
It was a clear warm day when Tullia returned, guiding her oxen pulled cart along the dusty road beside the farm. Roman taxes could be paid in money or in goods, and many farmers or laborers in this part of the empire opted to hand over sacks of grain or woven clothing in lieu of payment. Tullia, learning the lessons of her father, always brought along a cart for such payments.
She approached Vilneas and greeted him as he labored over a stretch of vines.
“Vilneas, how’s the harvest,” she asked.
“Growing poorly,” he greeted. “At least half of my vines are barren. I turn the soil, but all I dredge up is more clay. And I have nothing else.”
Tullia surveyed the horizon. “Why not sell the land and move closer to the coast, where the vines will grow easier?”
“Sell to whom?” Vilneas asked. “My brother has long moved far from here, and my son talks only about the Legion, not about farming.”
“Vilneas, I have come to collect the taxes you owe to Rome. 100 Denarius, and I shall leave you to your vines,” Tullia said. Vilneas was typically one to barter.
“I cannot pay, tell Rome I cannot pay,” Vilneas said, turning and spreading his arms wide. “I have nothing. No livestock, no wine, just a departing son and a good for nothing daughter. There is nothing you may take.”
“Rome will not accept my empty hands,” Tullia argued. “If you cannot pay and you cannot barter, then I must take you with me, to work off the debt yourself.”
Vilneas’s face turned pale as he heard Tullia’s words. “No, I will not. I cannot. Anything but that.”
The silence was thick and heavy as the two faced each other, thinking. Tullia knew that indentured servitude was sometimes the way, but usually a farmer or a merchant always had one more thing they could give up before they were forced into it. It was just about timing, and it looked like Vilneas was approaching that point.
But then he called out for his daughter.
“Laurentia!” Vilneas called into the house. “She can serve until my debt is paid.”
“She cannot…” Tullia began, trailing off as Laurentia came out of the house.
Laurentia was beautiful in a way that Tullia did not think she had ever conceived of before. Laurentia had long flowing hair, almost to the small of her back, and it seemed so fine as to shimmer when she moved. Even wearing nothing more than a rough spun tunic, one could see her perky breasts poking out of the material, the curves of her body outlined by the fabric. She had small wrists and hands, almost dainty, not the type that a farmer’s daughter would have after twenty years of difficult work turning the soil.
Tullia immediately felt a heat within her, close to the stomach, that slowly spread throughout her body.
“Yes father?” Laurentia called, her voice high and sweet. She spoke quietly, although it carried quite clearly across the yard.
“You are to go with this woman,” Vilneas ordered, gesturing to Tullia. “You must do whatever she tells you. This I command.”
“Father, I will not,” Laurentia replied, her voice defiant, her hands on her hips. “You can’t use me to get out of your debts. I will not serve in your place.”
Laurentia was wrong. As an unmarried daughter, she had little authority to disobey her father, and Tullia couldn’t take her eyes off Laurentia.
She’s just like me, Tullia realized. She wants to escape, she doesn’t want the life her father wants her to have. I can help her, she thought as the heat within her reached a crescendo. I just have to make it look good.
As Laurentia argued with her father, Tullia returned to her cart, quickly searching through the small pile of bartered goods. Pushing aside an amphora of wine, she found what she was looking for: a spool of braided rope. Cutting off two 20 foot pieces, Tullia walked back to the pair and addressed Vilneas.
“Rome will accept her service as payment for your debt,” Tullia replied, a smile on her face. “Please, come with me,” she said to Laurentia, grabbing her wrist.
“No!” Laurentia yelled, yanking her arm away from Tullia.
“So, the hard way,” Tullia muttered, before using her weight to shove Laurentia back into the dried clay wall of Vilneas’s house. Tullia then grasped Laurentia’s upper arms, spinning her around so she faced the dried earth, before pushing her face into the clay.
“Mmmmhhhmmm” Luarentia’s shout was muffled by being shoved into the wall by Tullia, who quickly ran her hands down Laurentia’s arms to her small wrists, using her grip to force Laurentia’s wrists up behind her back into a reverse prayer position. Using her weight and her position, Tullia quickly wrapped one of the ropes around her wrists, pulling it achingly tight and tying it off, keeping the knots far enough away from Laurentia’s fingers so she had no hope of untying the ropes.
Laurentia started squirming and thrashing around, trying her best to rid herself of the ropes, to little effect. Tullia again took her by the arms, guiding her over to the cart. Sitting Laurentia down on it, Tullia took the second rope and tied Laurentia’s ankles, crossing them over each other and wrapping the rope again around them tightly before tying it off, the knot sitting just above her heel.
“I’ll kill you,” Laurentia threatened.
“I’m trying to help you,” Tullia whispered. “Just keep quiet.” Tullia took the small blade she had used before and sliced off a strip of Laurentia’s tunic, forcing it between her teeth to gag her. Laurentia only glared at Tullia as she carefully laid Laurentia down between the rest of the barter in her cart, carefully camouflaging her body.
The heat that Tullia felt inside of her did not dissipate, but rather increased like adding logs to a fire. Tullia could feel herself getting excited and aroused as she lead the ox cart away from Vilneas’s farm. All she could think about was the beautiful bound woman who was now her prisoner.
**First Post! How’d I do?**
—DDelta