One Morning in Potaissa - Gang Rape Galore

[Lucius]

Teaser: Rectus eased his hips forward and down. His bulbous cock-head pierced Ziptia’s opening, gaining a half-inch or so. Proculus marvelled at the incredibly obscene sight of the long, magnificently engorged cock wedged in the well-sculpted arse of the woman rebel. He saw her nether-ring strain and stretch as the man pushed harder. Tears streaming down her dirty face, Ziptia waited breathlessly as the huge, hot shaft seared into her forbidden hole.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life.
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Title: One Morning in Potaissa
Author: Lucius
Content Warnings: Violence, threats of violence and death, killings and male-on-male rape mentioned in passing. No descriptions of tortures or executions, except for the brief mentions of the after-effects of flogging.
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Written for the Gang Rape Galore contest.

Potaissa (now Turda in Romania), the Roman cavalry regiment mentioned in the text and the general Statius Priscus belong to the domain of real life, as do the Dacian rebellion suppressed by Priscus and the mere fact of Antoninus Pius’ jubilee celebrations. The rest is invented.
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One Morning in Potaissa

Potaissa, Upper Dacia

25 April AD 158

‘Domine, Rectus is back! Them boys been in a fight! They’ve taken prisoners too!’

Valerius Proculus, the prefect of the Second Ala of Pannonians, acknowledged the young soldier who had brought the news and quickly exited his tent. Rectus’ squadron was making its way down the main north–south-oriented street of the camp—the street that should have been the main one, Proculus corrected himself.

Half a century had elapsed since Trajan triumphed over the Dacians, but the Roman army had to suppress yet another uprising. Proculus’ ala had left the permanent camp for Potaissa, the temporary seat of old Statius Priscus, the formidable governor of Upper Dacia.

Priscus was waging his war from Potaissa, and the garrison of the town was swollen with the innumerable vexillations of the Thirteenth Legion, alae, auxiliary cohorts, numeri, military slaves and camp-followers. With detachments always leaving and coming back, keeping the orderly alignment of streets within the camp was impossible.

Proculus waited for the cavalrymen to approach. No missing soldiers and horses—so far so good. Sulpicius Rectus, a tall, lean, wiry, dark-haired officer from Spain, a look of great satisfaction on his face, dismounted and saluted his commander.

‘Make your report, decurion. What has happened?’

‘Domine, a dozen Dacians lay in wait for our regular patrol at the fourth milestone going the Napoca way. We got them good,’ Rectus smiled. ‘Two of ours lightly wounded, nine brigands dead. Captured three—one of ’em a girl!’ Rectus’ smile broadened.

‘Well done, decurion. Let’s have a look at the captives.’

‘Hey, Bato-o!’ Rectus shouted. ‘Get over here! Bring all prisoners before the prefect, quick!’

Bato the big-nosed Illyrian took his mount forward, a body that was unmistakably female slung like a sack of corn across the withers of his horse.

‘Why did they take the girl with them—to play a damsel in distress before our patrolmen, entice them into an ambush?’ Proculus enquired, looking at the dangling bare feet of the captive.

‘I don’t know about distress, domine, but this she-wolf swung her sword, fury-like, until Bato rode her down,’ Rectus’ eyes narrowed. ‘She must be as hard as any of the Mauretanian bitches you like to tell stories about.’

Proculus nodded. Mauretania, Syria and now Dacia—it was the third military appointment for the Roman knight from Umbria. Proculus was doing his part preserving the Roman peace, defending the cities of Mauretania Tingitana against Moorish raiders and hunting Arabian brigands in Syria. The fresh uprising is Dacia might be difficult to deal with, but Statius Priscus brought with him the invaluable experience of the terrible Jewish War fought in the last years of Hadrian’s great reign. Having subdued the Jews for all time, they would subdue the Dacians too, Proculus thought.

‘Come on, she-wolf!’ Rectus roughly grabbed the bound wrists of the girl, pulled her down and turned her around to face Proculus. Bato and another Illyrian cavalryman, Platino, got off their horses and gripped the shoulders of the captive.

She was a young woman, barely twenty years old. Proculus had a good look at the bold features of her flushed, tanned, coarsely pretty face framed by wild dark tresses, meeting the glare of her large eyes of deep hazel with cold disdain. Her heaving breasts showed plainly under the thin, sweat-soaked fabric of her short tunic.

‘Do you speak Latin, woman?’ Proculus asked slowly. The girl remained silent. So did the two men captured along with her when brought before the prefect.

‘Well, I’m off to see the governor then,’ Proculus said. ‘He’s holding court later today to dispose of the prisoners,’ he pointed at the large wooden cage holding six miserable-looking young men captured earlier by the soldiers of his ala. ‘I think he would like to hear what our fresh captives have to say as well.’

‘The torturers of the Thirteenth are going to be tired!’ Rectus laughed.

‘Indeed, Rectus. Indeed. Cinnamus, my horse!’

‘Permission to have the captives, erm, yoked while we wait, domine?’ Rectus’ eyes were full of hope.

Proculus’ lips curled slightly. ‘Bearing the yoke’ was a well-known euphemism for violation.

‘Permission granted,’ Proculus said evenly, stroking his short beard. ‘However, Rectus, you’re going with me—knowing the governor, he’d want to hear everything firsthand,’ he turned away and strode towards his steed.

The face of the decurion fell. ‘By Hercules...’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Oh well. Bato!’ Rectus said loudly. ‘She’s all yours, then it’s Platino’s turn…’ He started to walk away towards his horse, then froze as he lit upon an idea. ‘Remember, her arse is mine! You want to bugger someone, have a go at those two brutes! Actually, tie them to the cage on the outside!’
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Ziptia knew three things for certain.

She knew a little Latin.

She knew she was in for a very bad time.

She knew it was the last day of her young life too. She might see another dawn or two from her cross, but then she would already belong to death.

Her brother had been killed by the Romans about an hour ago, fighting alongside her. Ziptia was certain that she would see him again soon.

The soldier they called Bato, the one who took her captive, grabbed the neck of her tunic, twisting it in his large fist, then ripped it open. The thin fabric tore to her waist. Bato licked his lips at the sight of her breasts as they bounced free. Full, round, sat high on her chest, her lovely mounds were crowned with pert dark nipples. Grinning, he took a good hold of her right tit and dug his fingers deep into the sweat-slick flesh.

Ziptia willed herself to remain impassive.

‘Men! Get the stakes!’ shouted Platino, tearing the rest of Ziptia’s garments off her body. The soldiers of the ala were gathering round, leering, feasting their eyes upon her nakedness. Swept up in a flurry of pushes, slaps, pinches, grabs and tugs, Ziptia was dragged aside until someone kicked her legs from under her.

They untied her wrists only to stake her out on the hard-packed ground, lying on her naked back, her arms and legs stretched to the utmost and tied with rawhide strips to wooden stakes driven deep into the earth, leaving her motionless, her eyes level with the boots and hooves. Her heart thudding, Ziptia raised her head, sending a death stare at Bato.

‘Come on, Bato!’

The soldiers cheered as Bato stripped off his armour and rucked up his tunic, showing her his cock, pumping it a few times before settling down between her legs. Bato stroked her breasts, her stomach, ruffled up nonchalantly the triangle of coarse dark hair between her legs, then placed the whole weight of his body upon her. He puckered his lips, lowered his head to her left breast and latched his mouth at the edge of her large brown areola, painfully sucking and nipping at her sensitive skin.

‘Mark her tit well!’ Platino said with a leer.

Ziptia started to squirm under the cavalryman, struggling against her restraints. His cock, thick and heavy, was stiffening and straining against the smooth skin of her thigh.

‘I curse your bones, your marrow, you muscles, your cock!’ Ziptia hissed in Dacian. ‘Zalmoxis and Bendis, hear me… Ahhh!’

Her rapist let go of her breast and delivered a vicious backhand across her face. Ziptia saw stars and tasted blood in her mouth. Her groan turned into a startled gasp, eyes round with shock, when Bato roughly stuck two calloused fingers inside her bone-dry love-channel, probing her flesh.

‘You sure know how to get a wench’s attention, Bato!’ laughed Platino. ‘Found her maidenhead yet?’

‘Eh, long gone, brother!’ Bato waved his hand, then spat copiously on his fingers and stuck them inside Ziptia again.

‘Come on, man! Fuck her now!’

Bato appraised the large, dark suck-bruise he had made on Ziptia’s breast, then pulled his fingers out and lined up his body with hers. The blood-engorged tip of his cock spread her tender folds. A harsh thrust of his hips—and he was inside her, splitting her open on his thick shaft as the assembled soldiers shouted hoarsely, looking down at the scrunched-up face of a woman just taken brutally against her will.

There was nothing left for Ziptia to think about, nothing but her cunt and his cock, thrusting into her again and again. Each hard, punishing stroke deep into her core was utter torment for the Dacian girl, her inner muscles burning with raw ache. The men watched with glee as Bato’s hairy buttocks rose and fell rhythmically between her widespread legs .

Standing next to Ziptia, Platino took in her high cheekbones and bee-stung lips. He wanted to fuck her face, using her mouth for his pleasure, feeling her throat constrict round his cock. But the she-wolf surely knew she would hang on the cross by noon. No doubt she would bite.

Pumping his cock into Ziptia faster and faster, Bato watched her tits bouncing on her chest as she was buffeted by his fucking. The soldiers egged him on until he came with a roar, flooding her abused channel with his seed.

He pulled out, stood up and grinned, looking down at the woman he had just raped. ‘Good fuck, she-wolf! Platino, your turn!’

Staring at the sky, Ziptia felt Bato’s seed trickle out of her. Platino, kneeling between her legs, his cock already swollen and throbbing, slapped her breasts a few times, then smashed his fist into her soft underbelly, making her cry out.

‘Got your attention now, she-wolf?’ Platino hissed, punching his cock deep into her cunt, now wetted with Bato’s slime.

Her eyes watering, she endured.
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‘I cannot help but wonder why Priscus is so interested in her skill with the sword and spear,’ Proculus mused as he and Rectus rode in a slow trot through the camp. ‘Rectus, have the captives chained and take them to the headquarters.’

‘Will do, domine!’

‘By Hercules, what’s that noise?’

Ziptia’s rapists were cheered as if they were gladiators or charioteers when they took on her spread-eagled body one by one, battering her insides with their cocks. Bathed in sweat, someone’s boot on her hair, the girl lay limply beneath the eighth or ninth man to rut into her this morning. A Moorish horseman from the irregulars, all too aware that he was not getting a go at her cunt that was reserved for the Second Pannonians to enjoy, had just fucked her in the left armpit to general merriment and applause, kneading her breast with one hand, the strong muscles of her arm with another, then spilling a copious amount of thick seed into her coarse underarm hair.

The prefect and the decurion dismounted to have a look at the obscene goings-on, the soldiers saluting them. The stench of sweat and lust hung in the still air.

‘Carry on,’ Proculus said to the soldier who stilled on an in-stroke, his cock buried deep in the girl’s cunt.

‘But be quick about it, Scorpianus!’ added Rectus. ‘I’m claiming her arse now!’

Scorpianus obeyed his commander—in a few heartbeats he was spending into Ziptia. Once he got up, Rectus took charge.

‘Hey! You at the head, take a few steps back! Scorpianus, Platino—untie her legs and grab ’em!’

Ziptia, woozy as she was, tried to kick out when she felt the men undoing the rawhide ties, but the men pinned her legs to the ground. In a couple of heartbeats her world overturned—Platino and Scorpianus clutched her ankles, lifting her so that she hung upside down like a pig ready for butchering.

Her legs were splayed obscenely wide, her cunt and inner thighs glazed with semen. Rectus raised his short whip—for a horrible instant Ziptia thought he was going to flog her there—and brought it down, lashing her upturned breasts. Shaking in the air, Ziptia screamed in pain, her fingers raking the ground, as the soldiers roared with delight. A red weal crossing the tender undersides of her plump mounds sprung up immediately.

‘Flip the she-wolf over!’

The men flung Ziptia onto the ground face down, winding her, stunning her, hurting her. Rough hands raised her hips off the ground so that a short log could be pushed under her body. Her shapely arse stuck up in the air now. Rectus started undressing. Ziptia twisted her pretty head to the side to look at him with hate.

His long cock bobbing in front of him, Rectus positioned himself between the splayed legs of the girl. He dug his fingers into the cheeks of her arse and prised them wide apart, looking on as more spunk oozed out between the puffy red lips of her well-fucked cunt. With a chuckle the decurion leant forward, his throbbing shaft squeezing into the enticing crevice between Ziptia’s tensed buttocks. The captive flinched when the hot tip of his massive cock pressed against her tiny nether-ring. Desperately, she tried to squirm away.

Rectus eased his hips forward and down. His bulbous cock-head pierced Ziptia’s opening, gaining a half-inch or so. Proculus marvelled at the incredibly obscene sight of the long, magnificently engorged cock wedged in the well-sculpted arse of the woman rebel. He saw her nether-ring strain and stretch as the man pushed harder. Tears streaming down her dirty face, Ziptia waited breathlessly as the huge, hot shaft seared into her forbidden hole.

Then it happened. The fat cock-head burst into her rear channel just when the tender skin of the rim turned nearly white and looked as if it was about to split. Ziptia couldn’t suppress an open-mouthed wail of anguish as the red-hot, raw pain tore up her spine. Her eyes squinched shut, her lips drawn back, teeth bared, the captive shuddered and bucked under the rapist.

The decurion gasped in pleasure at the exquisite sensation of the tight band of muscle convulsing on his bloated shaft. In a heartbeat he was pushing slowly, horribly, driving his weapon of lust deeper and deeper into Ziptia, tearing one choked cry after another from her trembling lips until he buried himself to the hilt in her arse. Dizzy with pain, her fleshy sheath stuffed to the full, his cock-head a smouldering lump of iron deep inside her pelvis, the burning muscles of her forbidden hole now clamped taut round the girthy base of his cock, the young woman groaned loudly, hoarsely.

Rectus chortled and arched over Ziptia’s back to grab her breasts. Squeezing the taut globes in his strong hands so hard that her breast-flesh bulged between his fingers, he slowly pulled his cock out of her arsehole until only the crown was locked within. The hurt in her nether regions receded somewhat, but every painful sensation came back with a vengeance when he skewered her deeply again.

More and more soldiers gathered to watch the spectacle of vicious abasement unfold. The daring rebel swordswoman wriggled naked under the decurion, her fingers and toes scrunching helplessly in the dirt, as Rectus slowly fucked her in the uptilted arse with long, deep, measured strokes. Dozens of eyes took in the view of his huge, glistening cock sliding in and out of the rippling, clinging circle of reddened tissue between the quivering lobes of her shapely buttocks. Her vision clouded with hot tears, Ziptia gazed unfocusedly at the fascinated audience, groaning loudly in pain and shame.

Rectus built up speed, moving steadily faster and faster till his hips swung back and forth in a rapid, ferocious, punishing rhythm. Soon he was sweating from his effort. Ziptia’s body lurched and shook with every ramming thrust of his cock into her blazing rear channel. The sound of flesh slapping into flesh filled the air, mingling with the sharp, broken cries of the young Dacian woman and the vile exclamations of soldiers.

Finally with a loud shout of pure carnality Rectus thrust savagely into her arse and stiffened. In a heartbeat Ziptia felt his cock swell even more and throb powerfully, spewing the first thick jets of spunk deep into her violated innards. Grunting ecstatically, his head thrown back, his hips jerking at her buttocks, Rectus filled her bowels with warm, sticky fluid.

At last Rectus pulled out, wiping his cock on her posterior.

‘Give her some rags and put chains on her—she’s about to get what she deserves! Gather those as well!’ He pointed at the cage where more soldiers were busy buggering the male prisoners.

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Less than an hour later, Ziptia stood before the Roman governor and his council with all the defiance she could muster, her wrists and ankles bound with heavy iron chains. Down there, everything throbbed with savage hurt.

It would not matter soon, she told herself. Nothing would.

Statius Priscus, his hair and beard iron-grey—his age was closer to sixty than fifty—sat stiffly on the makeshift wooden tribunal, flanked by an assembly of military tribunes and prefects.

‘Name, race, quality?’ Priscus rattled off the usual beginning of any interrogation.

‘No tell you nothing!’ With nothing to lose and having regained some of her inner fire, Ziptia spoke in awful Latin. ‘Rip me to shreds—I no care,’ she nodded at the two torturers waiting by the rack.

‘Rebel woman, you have been brought before me to face justice for your many crimes against Rome. You stand accused of brigandage and sedition. You have stirred up rebellion among the loyal Dacians. You have killed many Roman soldiers and settlers in your raids. You have burned villages and farms...’

‘Just kill me now!’

‘They say you fight like a wildcat, girlie…’

‘Gimme sword, get down here—I you show!’ Ziptia snarled.

The governor sighed. In truth, the cross was the only fitting end for her, but the request that reached him yesterday from Rome was clear.

Come July, the Emperor Antoninus Pius would celebrate his vicennalia—the twentieth anniversary of his glorious reign. That meant staging outstanding gladiatorial shows.

Outstanding gladiatorial shows meant female gladiators, and Dacia—with the rebellion going on—was expected to supply as many combatants belonging to the fairer sex as the province could.

‘This Dacian brigand-woman is to be transported to Rome and there discharged into the care of the procurator of the Great Gladiatorial School,’ Priscus intoned to the great surprise of everyone present. ‘She is assigned the servile name of… Ferocia. You’re going to fight before the people of Rome, girlie. But first things first. Torturer! Give the slave-girl Ferocia two dozen stripes for her great insolence.’

‘I piss on Rome! I no fight…’

‘Torturer! Make it three dozen, and lay them on well!’

‘Ooh!’

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‘Ah!’ Damp straw under her belly, Ziptia-Ferocia could not suppress a small cry as the Roman legionary doctor was applying some salve to the wounds on her naked back left by the whip. A slave-girl had already tended to her privates, washing off the visible marks of the many violations that had seared her soul.

‘How bad?’ She had to ask.

‘I’d say it will mostly heal up by the time you get to Rome, Ferocia,’ the doctor replied. ‘There will be a little permanent scarring, I'm afraid. Best of luck on the arena!’

Her face buried in her hands, she answered with a strangled thank-you as he was leaving.

Chained to the wall of the military prison, the would-be female gladiator gathered her thoughts. Knowing a little Latin, having a very bad time at the hands of the Romans—these two things mattered still.

She had been wrong about dying on that day. She could live with that mistake.


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Feedback is welcome!

[Shocker]

Another one of hour excellent period pieces. You have a great skill in bringing facets of the roman empire to live.

[Shocker]

@Lucius I think I still owe you a bit more detailed response to your story, i was a bit pressed for time earlier and tickled pink by the thought of having the last post in all contest entries.

I really enjoyed how you use the situation, Ziptia having given up on her live still feels the indignity of rape. Just to learn that anal rape is such a time honored tradition to really break resistance. Still facing immediate death, to get a reprieve for a even greater spectacle. Your writing sheds excellent light on her inner feelings.

[Lucius]

@Lucius I think I still owe you a bit more detailed response to your story, i was a bit pressed for time earlier and tickled pink by the thought of having the last post in all contest entries.

I really enjoyed how you use the situation, Ziptia having given up on her live still feels the indignity of rape. Just to learn that anal rape is such a time honored tradition to really break resistance. Still facing immediate death, to get a reprieve for a even greater spectacle. Your writing sheds excellent light on her inner feelings.

I was thinking about giving Ziptia some backstory, but then I decided to write her as a bit of a blank slate wiped clean by the expectation of imminent tortuous death -- defined by defiance only, in a manner of speaking. It's good to know that I've achieved some success in writing her.

[RapeU]

1) What did I immediately feel after reading this
2) What I love about what I read
3) What would I change in the story to make it perfect (for me)
4) Did I get off on this and why

1) This story contest is going to be tough, and stories like this motivate me into improving my own writing.

2) You crafted the story well, I felt like I was with the Roman soldiers. Switching between the solder's point of view to Ziptia's was well done too.

3) I didn't understand the story description before the story started, but that could just be me being tired. Once I started reading the story I began to understand. Also, I think I missed it but I don't see the theme in there of "two out of three ain't bad." It's probably subtle in there somewhere and I just missed it.

4) No, but that's just due to timing. Parts of the story are definitely future wanking material.

[Lucius]

3) I didn't understand the story description before the story started, but that could just be me being tired. Once I started reading the story I began to understand. Also, I think I missed it but I don't see the theme in there of "two out of three ain't bad." It's probably subtle in there somewhere and I just missed it.

Not sure about the description thing—the teaser? It's just Rectus about to stick his, ahem, weapon of choice into Ziptia's shapely bum.

As for the two out of three, it's spelt out in the end, although perhaps in a through-a-glass-darkly way.

Knowing a little Latin, having a very bad time at the hands of the Romans—these two things mattered still.

She had been wrong about dying on that day. She could live with that mistake.

[RapeU]

3) I didn't understand the story description before the story started, but that could just be me being tired. Once I started reading the story I began to understand. Also, I think I missed it but I don't see the theme in there of "two out of three ain't bad." It's probably subtle in there somewhere and I just missed it.

Not sure about the description thing—the teaser? It's just Rectus about to stick his, ahem, weapon of choice into Ziptia's shapely bum.

No, this part.

Potaissa (now Turda in Romania), the Roman cavalry regiment mentioned in the text and the general Statius Priscus belong to the domain of real life, as do the Dacian rebellion suppressed by Priscus and the mere fact of Antoninus Pius’ jubilee celebrations. The rest is invented.

I had to read that three times before giving up and just diving into the story, but this is likely an issue on my end because I stayed up too late last night and am paying for it today lol.

As for the two out of three, it's spelt out in the end, although perhaps in a through-a-glass-darkly way.

Aye, now I see it. Clever way to incorporate the theme!

[Lucius]

No, this part.

Potaissa (now Turda in Romania), the Roman cavalry regiment mentioned in the text and the general Statius Priscus belong to the domain of real life, as do the Dacian rebellion suppressed by Priscus and the mere fact of Antoninus Pius’ jubilee celebrations. The rest is invented.

I had to read that three times before giving up and just diving into the story, but this is likely an issue on my end because I stayed up too late last night and am paying for it today lol.

Ah, thanks! I see -- I've viewed this bit not as a story description but as a general comment on the bits of the story anchoring it IRL.

[AdmiralPiet]

Yay! Imperium Romanum!
This reminds me of how I mentioned to a friend a few days ago: No matter how likable and badass someone makes his band of barbarian rebels.
Once the "camera" pans over to the bad guys and it is something like: Legio VIII Augusta, Legate Marcus Cornelius Maximus in command I go: "Rome! Rome! Rome!"
(Or "Rule Britania" depending on the setting )

So this story went right up my alley.
Can't really offer any constructive criticism on the writing style. I liked it, and it was easy reading, but its all pretty subjective.
Maybe if I read more, or read again.

I liked that you incorporated that she could not speak fluent latin when she spoke to Priscus. Small detail, but a good one.

Also nice to have the other two captives buggered as well. Could have even been expanded a bit.

The hottest part for me is right after her sentence though. And it leaves me thorn.
Just like a picture I have seen a while ago where the woman had her back covered in whip scars that part really fired up my imagination.
How was she tied? How did the soldiers go about it? Imagining her hanging in her bonds, suffering greatly.
What went through her head after the first dozen ripped up her back and she realised she had only went a third of the way.

On the other hand: I do like a good whipping scene and would like to see how you, not I, imagined it to go down.

A mistake I spotted:

Half a century had elapsed since Trajan triumphed over the Dacians, but the Roman army had to suppress yet another uprising

You repeat this exact part a few paragraphs further down.

[Lucius]

The hottest part for me is right after her sentence though. And it leaves me thorn.
Just like a picture I have seen a while ago where the woman had her back covered in whip scars that part really fired up my imagination.
How was she tied? How did the soldiers go about it? Imagining her hanging in her bonds, suffering greatly.
What went through her head after the first dozen ripped up her back and she realised she had only went a third of the way.

On the other hand: I do like a good whipping scene and would like to see how you, not I, imagined it to go down.

I like writing whip very much, but I've envisaged this story as a violation and not a flagellation one. A long flogging session skirts the 'People getting slowly tortured to death for the sexual gratification of another, with or without consent, is not allowed' prohibition because no one wants to kill Ziptia at the moment, but then again: 'As a rule of thumb: If the degree of violence you have in mind could be shown in any generic action movie you are likely fine.' Ziptia's whipping would've gone a bit beyond that. Let's say I leave it to the readers' imagination.

A mistake I spotted:

Half a century had elapsed since Trajan triumphed over the Dacians, but the Roman army had to suppress yet another uprising

You repeat this exact part a few paragraphs further down.

How did it happen... I'll be...

Edited. Most thankful!