Swallow's nest

This time they were in the right wing of the library, where Agatha had never been before. It was smaller, and obviously cozier than the left wing of the library, where the main working area was located, with the Emperor's open study, with its huge marble desk littered with maps and scrolls. Agatha was immediately struck by the bookshelves, their smooth, sleeky pieces of solid wood floating on top of each other like honey flowing down a honeycomb, and by the benches or couches, running along the shelves in lazy curls of velvet, upholstered in a delicate pinkish-salmon material of wool and linen. It was not so spacious here, but it was warm and bright.  

Vespasian sat half-turned on one of the couches, closer to the blazing lamp, and was playing chess, or rather was dismantling a complex puzzle of the étude. Agatha didn't know what the game was called, but "his Eliteness" had explained to her a few days ago which piece played which move and why, and that what was happening on the board was remotely similar to war. Only what her master was doing, and who he was fighting now, she had no idea. She surely tried to keep her eyes on the board, but the white ivory pieces moved so slowly and incomprehensibly that her eyelids were ready to surrender.  

Agatha couldn't stand it and gave a girlish, squeaky yawn, barely managing to cover her mouth and her cheeks blushing, still carrying the swarthy tan of the street, with her hands.  

– Are you bored, Agatha? – he steadied the figure that had slipped from his fingers.  

It would seem that the softness and calmness of his voice should not have produced such a pronounced effect. But the poor girl, wrenching her hands away from her face, froze in a frightened stupor, straightened like a string. She knew that for any inattention she would be beaten later by Zanna.  

The pageboys and maids would watch and denounce to her about each other, and she, in her turn, would beat harshly, but even though there were no visible bruises, it still hurt.  

– Forgive me, my master! This is my fault! I had no right to disrupt your game. I was supposed to watch you and... and... not fall asleep....  

– Who told you that? – his plump face lit up with a good-natured smirk.  

– Our head maid – she says it's our duties – to keep a watchful eye on your needs.  

Vespasian frowned, trying not to laugh – the girl's face was remarkably amusing in its genuine consternation.  

– Nonsense! – he clutched his hand to the edge of his huge, quivering belly, chuckling. – Don't you listen to that broad!  

– But she says...  

– I know better what I need you for! – he shouted at her without rancor and, with a heavy sigh, added: -  

You're here to help me with deeds, not stares... Yes, Agatha, I'm still young, but I'm already, as you've certainly noticed, very fat, and so... " he hesitated, returning to his position on the board, "I need help, " he moved the bishop abruptly and turned to the sobbing maid, " and that is you...  

– Oh, Vespasian... " she whispered, gazing at his full form with blazing eyes, "Why eating so much... You've become so... so....  

– So what? – His sharp eyebrow rose upwards. He was breathing heavily.  

Agatha couldn't take her eyes off the enormity of the torso standing before her, her eyes wide open like of a kitten seeing its master for the first time.  

Agatha froze. Her hands, gently and slowly stroking his body, stopped, and were slightly trembling. Her cheeks suddenly flushed, her heart fluttered, and her lips tensed, as if squeezing out a confession:  

– Enormous...  

His breath became leaden. Droplets of sweat appeared on the heated skin of his swollen overfed face. Thick, reddened palms greedily gripped her waist:  

– And you like it...  

It wasn't even a question, but a calm and confident assertion.  

– I guess... I don't know... I....  

– Shhhh... be quiet...  

He coated her mouth with a rapacious, wet kiss.  

She responded with eagerness, and her tanned hands, this time not hiding their passion, ran with renewed vigour over his supple and massive body. Her palms were running down the doughy protuberance of his abdomen, then soaring abruptly to the bulging rolls of his languid chest, as swifts playing under a storm cloud, and then, barely reaching the top of his massive rear, hidden under the light fabric of his chiton; trying to grasp as much as possible, she was frantically kneading his lumpy buttocks.  

Her small figure in comparison to his, with her disheveled head upturned in a lingering kiss, shifted slightly to the side, trying to embrace every roundness of his abundant width. Snorting heavily, opposed her, he was scarce with his movements, bending over, like a heavy monolith, as though a sloping boulder caressed by the sea waters. But his tongue, trained by gluttony, was working wonders of flexibility.  

She lost his lips, letting him to regain his breath.  

– I don't even know why...  

And then she sealed them again, pulling him towards her.  

With ravenous insatiability, frantically digging her fingers into his ampleness, Agatha continued to knead and caress his heavy mounded body, savouring every moment as his tongue danced lustfully inside her. She sensed their bodies, blossoming with the mutuality of passion, as if fire flames, interlocking together, as one flesh.  

– I know...  

He finally let go of her, licking his grinning mouth as if had been sampling sweet-smelling honey.  

Agatha's heart fluttered like a captive lark as her favourite fatty entered the hall, no longer looking as weary and bloated as he did yesterday.  

On the contrary, he was handsome and vigorous! And though he yet again had put on too much weight, and of course it was obvious to a naked eye, now he was once more her majestic Vespasian, and even better!  

Agatha has never seen him so " gloriously luminous" – she couldn't have chosen a better epithet – he seemed to glow from within, his whole appearance exuding neatness and freshness.  

He was magnificent in his monumental stature, his head held high, and he looked rejuvenated, even in spite of his enormous weight.  

Now, his whole appearance indicated that he was the most superior and important man in their empire, dressed in a festive white satin tunic with a gold embroidered border slightly receding from the edge, decorated with stars and oak leaves. Whether poor or wealthy it was customary to wear only white on the Freedom Festival, but the nobility had the right to add a silvery incrustation to the garment, and only the most honourable people in the empire could afford a gold edging.  

In fact she had never seen him in traditional national costume before. At the palace he always wore loose caftans and trousers, dressing gowns in the Oriental manner, sometimes long shirts, very rarely togas, and, not that he was a fashionable man, but his clothes were always notable for his attention to detail and innovation in the choice of cut and fabric.  

Here, too, he chose shiny silk, although it was customary to use linen or cotton with wool. Silk had been introduced to them rather recently.  

Thanks to his efforts, a peace with distant countries and new trade routes were finally established. Such a wonder as satin was a novelty. Worth a small fortune, apart from the emperor, only very wealthy people could allow themselves to buy this material.  

Vespasian ploughed another handful of pilaf, managing to shove a piece of mutton into his mouth as well.  

– It's delicious, " he mumbled with a mouthful and, chewing lazily, leaned back on the cushions.  

– Thank you, your Eliteness, " the girl sitting next to him leaned down in a half bow.  

–Let's skip the formalities, " he reached for another portion of rice. – Call me by my first name.  

– But...  

– Don't you like my name?  

– No, no, of course not! – The girl's face was troubled by a slight startle.  

She shook her blonde head in embarrassment. – But you are... you are our emperor!  

In her gentle voice there sounded admiration and desire to please, which for long exhausted his ears.  

Vespasian sighed and plunged his palm into the pilaf again.  

– So what...  

He took out a fat piece of lamb rib-eye and sank his teeth in it with gusto.  

– Your pilaf is very tasty, Julia, and you're a very nice girl, but that's not enough, " he snorted, chewing the meat with irritation, "I don't like shy girls. Come on, you're a hetaera.  

He fell silent, giving all his attention to the meal.  

– I ever respect you too much to treat you with such familiarity... – the lass nervously crumpled the edges of her transparent veil. – Forgive me.  

– What for? – belching out loudly, Vespasian tossed the bone disdainfully at the girl's feet. – You don't have to call me by any name. If you want, you can even leave...  

Julia unclenched her fingers, releasing the veil:  

– 'I didn't mean to offend you, ' – her voice was trembling slightly. – If so, am I allowed… -" she stammered.  

– Come on, child, don't mooch like a sacrificial heifer, speak... " he reluctantly grinned.  

–... Am I allowed to call you, my dearest master?  

She rose up her large eyes the colour of a cloudless sky, meeting the lazy, drowsy gaze. The Emperor hummed, shrugging his meaty shoulders:  

– It doesn't sound any better than Eliteness, but if it makes it easier on you... – he even tried to smile wider – Just please, drop the "dearest"! – the girl's piercing stare had had its effect after all.  

Her plumpliped face responded with a smile to the smile.  

– Thank you, my master...  

He nodded, raising his hand, smeared with pilaf, in compliance.  

– I will serve you truly and faithfully, " the young hetaera suddenly reached forward and kissed the back of his palm; she smiled again, her beautiful lips, streaked with lamb fat, tantalizingly glistening in the warm rays of the afternoon sun.  

– I'm sorry, I should have rinsed it first, " Vespasian said with hesitation.  

Perhaps he'd overdone with the pretense of arrogance – the air of the room wavered with pomposity and contempt.  

Having appreciated the charms of such concubines in his youth, he had quickly realized what really lay behind the lascivious caresses of such maidens, and since then he had been predisposed to any hetaera or consort. And this one too was probably disgusted by his heavy body, his unrestrained gluttony, and himself as a symbol of power, which had long ago become hateful to him.  

But he was the one who wanted to meet her in a first place. The presented versatility of mind and the unusual appearance of the girl at the feast had been tempting. He himself invited her to his chambers. He needed her.  

– Oh, my master, it can be fixed, – suddenly Julia bent over his palm once again, and taking it carefully in her hands, brought it to her juicy lips. Gently caressing each one separately, she was sucking finger after finger, as some marvelous and precious voluptuous fruits.  

Vespasian closed his eyes; his breathing became deep and laboured – he was enjoying himself.  

Julia passed her tongue between his thick phalanges once more, and finally her lips moved away from his hand.  

– Now your benevolent hand is clean, – yet again, her large eyes flashed him with sky blue.  

– Benevolent?  

Julia covered his dampened fingers with her fair well-groomed palm.  

– It is so soft and warm – I can see at once that you are a benevolent man...  

Vespasian hummed in confusion, running a shamefaced glance towards the tray of pilaf, as if seeking refuge in it.  

– My master, are you still hungry?! – Julia's face grimaced as if she'd been pierced by a spear. – My master, I'm sorry, now you won't be able to finish your pilaf!  

– I've already eaten enough...  

The young hetaera bit her ample lips, still not letting go of his hand.  

– Ah, what a pity, my master... I would have been very pleased if you had enjoyed your meal to the fullest, " she said with a gasp, cajoling him to go back to his feast.  

– All right, I'll finish it then...  

Vespasian freed his hand from her embrace and diverted it to the pilaf.  

– Don't! – The girl caught his weighty arm in time. – Master, don't stain yourself, – there was a strange intrigue in her manner. The young hetaera was clearly courting him, flirting with her eyes.  

– Then how do you think I should eat?  

Julia playfully squinted. Without remorse, she clung closely to him, coquettishly taking him under his saggy elbow.  

– Like this...  

Her free hand darted to the dish, scooped up a handful of pilaf, and brought it straight to his blushing face.  

– Eat, my master...