The General's Virgin Slave

Amanda Adams has been waiting a long time to
find the perfect man. She just has no idea she's been waiting two
thousand years. Until she walks through a bathroom door and into
another world.

Is she dreaming? Is she dead? Suddenly Amanda
finds herself living in first century Britannia, working as a
slave under Roman rule and catching the eye of feared general
- Marcus Cassius the Invincible.

As the general's bed slave and renamed "Axa",
she knows there is only one way to survive. The arrogant Primus
Pilus might have a hundred bed slaves at his disposal but she
is the only virgin among them. Can she keep his interest long
enough to rise to the top of the pack? The higher she climbs in his
affections, the further she has to fall. But just where will she
land? And while she's falling, maybe Amanda will finally fall in
love.

The General’s Virgin
Slave

by

Georgia Fox

M/F, ANAL SEX,
SPANKING,

AND PUBLIC
EXHIBITION

Twisted E Publishing,
LLC

www.twistedepublishing.com

A TWISTED E- PUBLISHING
BOOK

The General’s Virgin Slave

Copyright © 2014 by Georgia Fox

Edited by Marie Medina

First E-book Publication: September 2014,
SMASHWORDS EDITION

Cover design by K Designs

All cover art and logo copyright © 2014,
Twisted Erotica Publishing.

ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED:
This literary work may not be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part,
without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book
are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is
strictly coincidental.

Prologue

Last Night

Toga parties. Just another excuse to
grope someone while barely dressed and vomitoriously drunk, she
mused. It was really only one step up and slightly less sexist than
a Tarts and Vicars party.

But it was part of university life, as
Amanda Adams, second year history student and partial hermit, was
forever being reminded. She'd spent her first year buried under
books, getting excellent grades while being labeled unsociable and
a snob, so this foray into the dark realm of dorm parties was an
effort to be more outgoing.

"Silly me," she'd said to her best
friend, Chrissy. "I thought we came here to study."

"We're supposed to have fun too. We're
bright young things. Let your hair down, Mandy."

Chrissy only called
her
Mandy
to
prick her temper. Everyone knew she hated that.

"It's Amanda. I was christened Amanda.
Is it so hard to say the extra syllable?"

"Yayuss," Chrissy slurred,
because they were ten minutes into the party and she was already
halfway drunk on some foul mixture she would probably bring up
later all over the sofa in their flat. "But why are you wearing
that? It's not a toga. That's our bath mat...and that faux fur
hearth rug my aunt sent me for Christmas and... why is your
face
blue
?"

Amanda replied proudly, "I am a member
of the Iceni tribe. The blue paint is supposed to be woad, which
was applied in battle to terrify the enemy."

"An icy what?"

She sighed. "The Iceni tribe rebelled
against the Roman invasion of Britannia in the first century A.D.
Ever heard of Boudicea?"

Chrissy looked at her blankly and
hiccupped.

They were still only in the hall and
Amanda already felt the will to endure this party seeping out
through the flip-flops on her cold feet. "I don't know why I
bother," she mumbled, sullen.

"I don't know either. Why couldn't you
just wear a bloody sheet and call it a toga like everybody else?
Only you would use a party to give a history lesson."

"Well, somebody ought to make an
effort."

It was a great thorn in Amanda's side
that they lived here in the beautiful city of Bath and yet her
fellow students never seemed to appreciate the history all around
them. It was such a waste. Sometimes she walked in Parade Gardens
and looked over at the spectacularly romantic view of Pulteney
Bridge, then watched other people hurrying along, with their heads
down, talking on phones, paying no attention to their surroundings.
It made her want to cry and she wasn't the weepy sort.

"I suppose you're rebelling against
all these toga-wearing, pleasure-loving Romans," Chrissy
added.

"Exactly."

Leaning one exposed shoulder against
the wall, the other girl shook her head, laughing. And now, again
because she was tipsy, out it came, "No wonder you're still a
virgin two years into university."

Amanda gripped her "spear", which was
actually a tent pole, and tried not to let the wound of that
accusation smart. But it did. Contrary to appearances she didn't
particularly like being left out. It just happened that she never
could fit in. Sometimes, when she stopped and thought about it,
Amanda wished she could be like everybody else, but there was a
switch inside her that couldn't turn off. Or on. Depending upon
your point of view.

A therapist once told her that she had
abandonment issues because she was given up for adoption by her
birth mother at four days old. But for Amanda that was not enough
explanation. No answer was ever good enough to explain some of the
things that went on inside her. Pictures, ideas,
imaginings...things she daren't share with anyone.

Well, this year she'd promised her
friend to try being more approachable and open to new experiences.
After all, as Chrissy pointed out, another year had gone by and
still no boyfriend.

"You're the only nineteen
year old virgin I know," she would say to Amanda with a tone of
disbelief. "Except the ones in smut movies and romance novels.
Girls that supposedly never even masturbated and get freaked out
the first time they orgasm because...
oh
no, why are they wet? Where has it come from
? Makes me wonder how they ever advanced to being able to tie
their shoelaces, or use a fork without hurting
themselves."

You guessed it. Just as ignorance
about history was Amanda's pet peeve, gormlessly naive, romance
novel heroines were Chrissy's.

"If you don't get a move
on,
Mandy
, you'll
know more about ancient people than you do about modern men. And I
can assure you, today's men are much better company."

"How do you know that?"

Chrissy arched an eyebrow. "Er...they
shower and use toothpaste."

So apparently that was all it took to
please Chrissy. But Amanda found men her age irritating, weak and
aimless. She didn't hold back from telling them that either, and
didn't see why she should.

"The thing about you," Chrissy assured
her with all the gravity of drunken concern, "is you always have to
win. You always have to know better. Men don't like
that."

"I always have to win?"

"Arguments, games. Anything. You can't
stand to lose."

Amanda gripped her spear
tighter.

"Sometimes," added Chrissy, "I think
you'd do anything to prove a point."

"So I'm just supposed to back down and
let someone step all over me?"

"Don't be so defensive. There must be
some man somewhere you'd find interesting. If you only gave him a
chance."

Pah. Men her age got
excited about tits, beer, football and cars. None of those things
were interesting to her and men who tried to chat her up didn't
bother trying to find out what
did
interest her. They didn't have to waste the time,
of course, because there were plenty of girls around who just
wanted to get laid.

Like Chrissy.

"If I don't get some serious cock
tonight," her friend exhaled in a gust of Pernod and blackcurrant,
"I think my virginity will grow back. Do you think that's
possible?"

"No." It was no more
likely than Chrissy
not
getting sex. Or Amanda getting any in her
unflattering Iceni outfit and sky-blue face-paint. No doubt, a
therapist would say she dressed that way deliberately.

Two final-year students, clad in bed
sheets, trainers and paper laurel wreaths, had wandered over,
brazenly eyeing the girls up, plastic cups in hand. One of them
looked at Amanda and squinted. "What the hell are you supposed to
be? A smurf?" He laughed so hard at his own joke that beer shot out
through his nostrils.

"She's an ice queen," Chrissy
explained with comical solemnity.

"Iceni," Amanda corrected. "A member
of the Iceni tribe, which—"

One of the students snorted into his
cup. "Ice queen. That's appropriate for Miss Frosty
Arse."

His companion added, "She probably
pisses icicles."

They cracked up laughing, the way
soused fools usually did at anything not remotely
humorous.

Amanda waited for the laughter to
choke out and then said solemnly, "I always admire a man not afraid
to look and sound like a fool. It takes great courage to show
ignorance. Don't you have a ball to run and kick
somewhere?"

Suddenly she had a grinding
stomachache. Her period. Great. She didn't have any tampons with
her either and Chrissy certainly had nowhere to hide
any.

"I need the loo," she muttered,
pushing through the group to find the stairs.

Debauched Romans littered her path,
forcing Amanda to poke them with her tent pole as she clambered
through.

"Why is your face blue?" someone
shouted as she stepped over their sprawling legs.

"Why are you stupid?" She hurried on
without stopping to explain this time.

On the landing three girls already
queued for the bathroom. Amanda, naturally, was the only rebel
among them.