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only seen upon frescoes and statues of ancient goddesses of fertility. Even after long hours of complete possession, he could not stop himself from marveling at her beauty as she slept.
    His sigh turned to a gasp and then a smile. A woman like this could not be owned or simply had. She had too much to offer to be sullied by a master's wishes. No, she had to be allowed to find her true path. His father had once taught him that many young men often started down a false path to their true identity. Time, good luck and fate, usually set them straight. Commodus now knew that this also included women as well.
    And then he smiled because he knew exactly what his next step with Myra would be.

    *****

    "Saturnalia?" she blurted out, Her face a mask of confusion.
    "Saturnalia," he affirmed.
    "But, isn't this an ancient festival where the ancients celebrated the return of the sun," she yawned and looked up at him. "I didn't realize people still observe that ancient rite."
    "They do," he smiled a touch of mischievousness trickling onto his serious dark eyes. "But there is a great deal more you should know about this particular festival," he let his index finger adorned with the massive gold ring of imperial power trace circles around her left areola as he watched her dusky nipple come to life.
    "I'm up here, you know", she put her own finger under his chin and lifted his face to meet her eyes. His lips twisted in a smirk. Moist with tiny beads of sweat, his lips were beautiful, clearly outlined against the chiseled features of his nose and chin. She couldn't help herself as she moved in closer and kissed him, their tongues found each other and washed over in cascades of power. He pulled back and much to Myra's dismay started to make his way out of the massive imperial bed.
    "Besides, Saturnalia is only three days away, it is best we don't meet again until then," he was now completely out of bed and donning his cloak and sandals. Then he suddenly stopped and shot Myra a narrow stare. "I will have the black Nubian slave explain to you what is expected. I hear you two have found a soft spot for each other. Or perhaps I should say, more than one soft spots."
    Myra blushed furiously and rather than reply chose to pull the blankets over her tussled head. He laughed and with that he left.
    As it turned out he was correct. There was indeed much more to Saturnalia than a simple religious festival. Myra spent the three days leading up to it in the constant company of Sana, listening, absorbing and often practicing for the event. Myra laughed and blushed when she thought of what these practices had often entailed.
    The festival had indeed originated as a commemoration of Saturn, the sun god — Sol Invictus, the most powerful of them all,   but after century upon century many more layers had been added to the simple tradition gradually transforming it into one of Rome's most cherished events practiced for many days and nights in the month of December in the city.  
    No wonder she knew next to nothing about it, she was a provincial, from an affluent family perhaps but still a peasant girl after all. The best part of the celebration, at least according to Myra, was the tradition which called that for the duration of the festival, master and slave would trade places.  
    She couldn't help but smile mischievously when she thought about all the things she planned to do to her emperor Commodus and that beautiful birthmark he had on those sculpted buttocks of his.