Daughter of Persia

By Veronica Lake

In the Third Century BCE, Rome is at war with Persia. Villages are burned and ravaged. Aisha, a young noble woman in the safe haven of Persepolis, finds herself in the midst of battle as a prisoner of Rome, her fate dangling in the hands of a Roman soldier.

In this first volume, Aisha waits in the confines of her home for her husband's return from battle. She is left in the care of her stepmother and handmaiden, who help prepare her for marriage, before serving the goddess.

"Daughter of Persia" is a multi-volume series following the coming of age of Aisha.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Veronica Lake
• Release date: Feb 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370660391

Veronica Lake

Veronica Lake is a lover of loving to the nth degree. Exploring the realms of imagination, Veronica has immersed herself in ancient cultures through graduate studies in ancient history, art, archaeology and religion. Moving beyond the academic, this is the beginning of her foray into the craft of creative fiction.Immerse yourself into the chronicles of young love and lust. Experience the sexual desires with the women who are young and fierce, as they go head to head with the powerful men vying for power.

Book preview

Daughter of Persia

Volume 1: The Virgin Bride

Veronica Lake

This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other

Consensual sexual activities represented in this story are strictly

Fantasies, intended only for adults.

Copyright © 2017 by Veronica Lake

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express permission in writing from the author.

Table of Contents

Daughter of Persia

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Prologue

It is the Third Century BC, Rome is at war with Persia. Villages are burned and ravaged. Aisha, a young noble woman in the safe haven of Persepolis, finds herself in the midst of battle as a prisoner of Rome, her fate dangling in the hands of a Roman soldier.

Here, Aisha waits in the confines of her home for her husband’s return from battle. She is left in the care of her stepmother and handmaiden, who help her prepare for marriage, before serving the goddess.

Chapter One

Rome. August, 237 BCE

The sun blazed down on Aisha as she walked along the procession. Never had she seen so many crowds of people; they lined along the sides of the streets jeering at her. She kept her eye gaze forward, determined to not look at any of these philistines. She remembered what her mother had taught her: stand straight, chest out, tummy tucked, head up. Even in the darkest of times, no person can take her dignity, though they may try. And how they tried. These barbarians, she thought. Taking such feral joy in seeing her so indelicately, she seethed with anger. She tried to focus on happier memories; bathing on the shores of the Caspian Sea, warm evenings sitting outside enjoying tea. It was dignified, refined.

Sorceress! A man screamed at her, startling her out of her memory. She pursed her lips together and looked the other way, refusing to acknowledge him. This was heathen. His taunts only encouraged the others to join his shouting at her. Sorceress! Sorceress! They chanted over and over. It was mind numbing.

The day was stifling hot and she felt as though she would suffocate amidst the masses. The stench of sewage was exacerbated more so in the heat of the day. She began to feel dizzy as she walked. So this is Rome, she thought. As a young girl living in Persia, she had heard many stories about Rome — gilded temples, handsome warriors, gladiator battles in the Colosseum, the epicurean lifestyle of nobles living in Rome. She had dreamed about coming to the city one day, but not like this.

The bronze collar she was forced to wear weighed heavily on her shoulders. She stretched her neck to her side in an attempt to re-position the collar onto a different position of her shoulders. Fortunately it was not tight but shifting did little to ease the burden. They had begun their walk not long after dawn, and it was already at least midday. Her whole body ached; every step took all the strength she could muster. She stared blankly at the man in front of her, whose hands were tied at his back to the chain her collar was attached to. Her wrists were tied at her back, and she, in turn, pulled the captive behind her. She hated being forced into this imprisonment, but in truth she had been a prisoner as a wife already. This was just a collar that everybody could now see.

She saw a Roman military officer riding towards the back of the procession, commanding everyone in the procession to halt. Finally! Aisha thought in relief, an end to this journey. She stopped as the officer’s horse trotted along the line, inspecting that everybody’s collars and chains were as they should be. In unison with the prisoners, she turned to her side to face him, and as he began to pass her he slowed his horse. She subtly raised her eyes to look at him; he was sensationally handsome — his facial features were chiselled like a god, with an aquiline nose, a strong jawline, and high cheekbones. His hair was a wavy dirty blonde, lightly tussled so that it fell loosely almost past his jaw. He wore a simple white tunic underneath his mail armour. His arms were large and muscular, his chest was broad — he looked as though he was carved from the trunk of a tree. A flash of tremors erupted in her lower abdomen as she watched him. She felt a rush of heat.

He saw her looking at him and he smiled the most gorgeous smile she had ever seen. He stopped his horse in front of her and dismounted. She blushed as a wave of heat passed through her body. He stared at her intently, despite her best efforts to not acknowledge his presence. His eyes were a piercing blue, his skin was bronze in colour. Placing his large hands on her shoulders he nudged her to turn back towards the front. He unlocked the chains of the captive behind her from her wrists and pulled that captive towards the man in front of her, where he then undid her chain to replace it with the other’s chain. As he walked he jerked on Aisha’s chain, urging her to follow him. She was free! Almost.

A wave of relief flowed through Aisha, Dara must have demanded her release. Thank you! Aisha said excitedly. You may unchain me now and I shall be on my way. The officer smiled at her but said nothing. He pulled her chain harder, and mounted his horse, forcing her to walk behind him like cattle. Confused, Aisha did not know how to respond — he should be letting her ride the horse with him. She was exhausted, beads of sweat began to trickle into her eyes, the heat was making her exhausted. Whenever she slowed he pulled harder. He walked her past the line of people who were still stopped, as though he were parading her to all of them. He pulled again on her chain towards the entrance to an amphitheatre. Thankfully it was not the Colosseum, as that is where slaves have been massacred en masse.

The officer continued past the line of prisoners, all who were now at the entrance to the amphitheatre. Some of the prisoners had sat down on the ground, taking what little opportunity they had to rest their feet. Slowly, she made her way to the edge of the path to sit on a dry patch of grass. Her muscles ached, she