Slave Girls Of Rome

Chapter Two. The Call Of The North

Even before Lucius had given word to my feelings, I had learned that for a poor but ambitious junior officer, the Legion’s permanent barracks, just outside Rome, could not be considered the most hospitable of postings. And if that officer gambled a bit too much, and was heavily in debt, his plight was even worse. I was restless, increasingly desperate, hating my poverty, and thoroughly bored with camp life. A few days earlier, when I had been ruminating about my fate, 1 happened upon a slave caravan. Such long lines of fresh captives were quite common in Rome in those days. Day or night one could find them bound for the slave markets, wending their ways through the streets of that decadent city, a city insatiable for ever more human flesh.

I watched as two long rows of dusty naked captives, mostly men, trudged past me, their eyes downcast, their tread slow and dull. From their long unkempt hair, powerful builds, and scarred, hard-muscled bodies, it was easy to see that these must have been barbarian fighters, once-proud warriors whose spirit had been broken by defeat at the hands of Rome’s invincible legions. Now they were being led by overseers, who found no need to use their whips on their dazed and beaten captives. The shuffling men moved their feet mindlessly, hands manacled before them, chained to one another in loose coffles of eight men each.

There were lines of captured women, too. And although these were fewer, I studied them with more interest Many were stocky, heavily built barbarians, clearly destined to end up as field slaves or, at best, house slaves, although occasionally there was a well-made body that might elevate its fortunate owner to work in the bedchamber or in one of the city’s pleasure houses. The long lines of would-be slaves were broken by the occasional slaver’s wagon, with the large wheels and wide flatbeds, that held standing captives in cages. The wagons were reserved for captured nobles or for those women who were fated to become specially trained sex slaves. It was unwise to wear out the more-valuable merchandise in the long, exhausting march to Rome.

I watched the sorry parade without much interest as it made its way slowly by, when a creaking wagon came into view and with it a particularly rare prize. The jogging cage held a statuesque blonde. This must be a captive from the Northern peoples, I realized, a rare Teuton to be sure, as I recognized the striking Nordic features that Gaius had once described to me in such loving detail. This Germanic beauty was impressively tall, regal in her bearing, and elegantly made. She stood with cold blue eyes looking out over the crowd, eyes that were remote and unblinking. Most favored captives who found themselves so displayed in the tall wooden cages would shrink back to huddle in a far corner averting their eyes, or they might squat down studying the planks on the floor with head held low in the utter shame of defeat. But this woman did no such thing!

She stood boldly, squarely facing her Roman enemies, strong legs set wide as though to compensate for the roll of the wagon. Her hands clasped the bars at either side of her pale face, as she stood regarding with icy contempt those who sought to subdue her. Enthralled, I studied her magnificent naked body, the lean hard muscles sculpted into long, feminine contours, the breasts, firm, high set, and fiercely proud with prominent pink nipples that seemed to jut straight out My eyes fell to the silvery fleece of her brazenly exposed womanhood, a triangle of soft pale curls that thickened at the apex into a blonde tuft only half-hiding pouting netherlips. Her fuzzy pubic hair was paler than the hair on her head, which was long and thick, and spoke to former glories, although now it was matted and unkempt so it gave her a slightly frazzled, wild look I wondered if her new owner would have sense enough to allow her to keep that long mane of pure gold, or would he insist she be shorn to the sort of blonde stubble some slave owners thought quite fashionable in those days.

As the last of the train passed by I found myself following the parade to the slave market, eager to see if this Nordic goddess would be put upon the block today. Such a splendid specimen would certainly fetch a healthy price from any of a dozen of the best-known procurers, but it was more likely that some wealthy patron would pay dearly to add the blonde beauty to his private collection. Of course, with two coins in my purse, there was no way I could even dream of buying such a woman myself. That was out of the question!

Still, I was intrigued by her. I wanted desperately to see her standing on the raised platform: a splendid nude, presented in all her naked glory for public inspection, posed for the edification of the Roman rabble. Would her regal demeanor falter when the strong, proud female met her fate? Would the look of sullen defiance in her brooding blue eyes give way to fear when she found herself naked and alone on the raised platform before the lusty, bawdy crowd that inevitably gathered to eagerly watch the public spectacles the auctions provided?

Their destination was the largest and best of the pubic auctions run by two brothers named Maximus. By the time I got there, a good-sized crowd was already on hand, with more gathering every minute. The slaves were being lined up, connecting chains undone. They would mount the auction block singly, to be inspected and sold to the highest bidder. The slaves’ manacles were removed, and a wide leather collar was fixed around each neck A thin rawhide strip attached to the collar was used as a lead, so that the handler could bring the slave forward to be presented.

By now the captives would be properly cowed. The heavy whip that was used in the early days of captivity and retained for the most recalcitrant, could be dispensed with easily for this lot To keep their charges in line, the more skillful handlers need only employ a thin hickory switch.

The pace was smooth and businesslike. Each slave was made to mount the steps and there to suffer the indignities of being closely examined by the chief auctioneer, one of the Maximus brothers, who conducted the sort of thorough inspection one would expect to see if he were buying a valuable horse. Once he was well satisfied, the auctioneer set the starting price, and the bidding began.

I recognized this particular fellow: a skinny bald gnome named Glutus, and I watched the obvious pleasure he took in his task I saw the leer than came over his lips when women were about to be placed in his hands. He would make them do his bidding, adopting all sorts of poses to show off their best features while he went over the fine merchandise meticulously with his hands, lingering especially with the females, feeling here and there, probing this or that. The man obviously loved his work!

Bidding that day was hot and heavy, and the line moved quickly. I pushed my way through the crowd, eager to see more as her time came and the big blonde moved to the head of the line to have her manacles removed. She stood with eyes front, ignoring the rough handler who fitted the wide leather collar around her neck, then paused to run a callused hand down over her left tit and grab a quick feel before he attached the rawhide lead. Now he led the stately blonde to the steps.

The burly handler held the girl’s lead in one hand. The other held a thin, pliant rod, no thicker than a finger at the blunt end and tapering to a point at the other. He wielded the rod skillfully, careful to use it only on the fleshy hindquarters of the more attractive slaves so as not to damage that valuable property. He was not a particularly cruel man, but he was impatient. I saw a flick of his wrist, and the girl’s hips jerked forward as the rod struck her handsome rump solidly, impelling her to step lively in spite of herself. He led the naked young woman up the steps and brought her to the center of the high, square platform.

The crowd seemed to quiet down as though sensing something special was about to take place.

“Stand at attention! Clasp your hands behind your neck! Elbows back…head up!” Glutus snapped, stepping up to the tall blonde till he was close to but not touching her, to stand with his eyes just inches from the side of her pale face, appraising her long, clean lines coolly.

At first the blonde barbarian didn’t move a muscle, but a sharp whack on her bare bottom reminded her of the imperative of instant obedience. Her shoulders shot up in abrupt recoil, and she turned to look at her handler with a look of definite disdain. But the wicked rod in his hand rose only slightly. It was enough to cause her to turn back immediately and to bring up her arms slowly to assume the required pose, throwing back her shoulders, thrusting out her firm breasts proudly, locking her eyes on some distant horizon.

There was a lively murmur of approval from the crowd.

The lecherous old goat licked his chops as he passed his hands up and down that magnificent form, feeling up the captive woman freely, savoring each feminine curve and contour, caressing the taut mounds of her breasts, sampling her nipples, slipping his hands between her legs to fondle the soft folds of her blonde sex, greedily exploring the mounds and crevices of that splendid nude body. He looked in her mouth, pushed back her lips to examine her clenched teeth as if she were a mare, and ran his hands up and down her sleek haunches.

Then the randy auctioneer stepped back to put the big blonde through her paces. He had her widen her stance and then drop her arms and lean forward with head raised and hands placed just above the knees, so that her rich, full breasts swung forward to hang in two succulent mounds while she looked out over her audience. Now he brought up his pointed stick and used it to trace a line up the side of her curved body, starting at the nearest sturdy thigh and moving up over the generous cradle of her hip, then onward up her flank till the traveling point slid around under her bent torso and found a dangling tit. Now he used the stick to stir the helpless woman’s tits, flicking them up so they jiggled most delightfully, as laughter ran through the crowd. He traced a line from under the hanging breasts over a hard nipple and up the slope, outlining the generous curve of ripe feminine pulchritude.

A nod to his assistant had the stocky man step up and grab a fistful of the blonde hair at the back of the girl’s head, forcing his captive to raise her shoulders and deepen the curve in her back And then, while she was being held like that, she was ordered to bring up her hands to cup her ample breasts and offer them to the hungry audience, in a pose that got an immediate roar of lusty approval.

Now her tormentor used the rod to toy with the proffered tits. The devilish instrument pressed in, indenting the soft flesh, testing the resiliency of the breast, the softness of the enticing flesh, the underlying firmness. He spent a long time teasing her nipples, moving from one to the other, scratching lightly at the hardening points, then flicking the pliant little tip that seemed to stand up so hopefully under the mild stimulation till he had the big pink nipples blossoming. Another roar of approval swept though the restless crowd.

I marveled at her control as she held herself perfectly still while the wicked pointer invited the crowd to appreciate the strength of her long, finely muscled legs and robust thighs. Enjoying himself thoroughly, Glutus was clearly playing to the excited mob. After a few minutes of this, he had her drop her arms, rise up to her full height, and stand once more at attention, hands loosely at her sides, legs firmly together. Then he had the young woman turn around so that her back was toward the audience. We were greeted by our first view of her long, gently sloping back and the comely form of her shapely rear end. Looking closely, one could make out two faint pink welts that crossed her buttocks, traces of the whipping rod that had been laid so smartly across her bottom earlier. The pointer traced down her back and over the twin swells of the woman’s lush bottom.

She was ordered to bend down once more, assuming the same pose as before, but this time turned around so that she was offering up her jutting behind to be admired. Not quite satisfied with the results, the meticulous auctioneer forced the girl to bend down even lower, arching her back with hands braced on her thighs, thus boldly thrusting back that choice rounded rump of hers. His next command must have been even more obscene, even more humiliating, for this time the proud barbarian shook her blonde mane in mute refusal. Like lightning, the whipping rod shot out to whack her crisply across the tautly-drawn curves of her jutting arse, causing the bending girl to jerk upward at the viciousness of the stinging blow. It was enough to prompt her to obey even the most perverse demands readily. She responded by squirming her hips and shaking her tail from side to side in a delightfully provocative gesture. Waves of raucous laughter greeted the sight of this proud Germanic woman wiggling her ass like a Babylonian whore!

To add even further to her humiliation, the poor girl was next made to rotate her ass in a lewdly suggestive manner, eliciting a spate of bawdy offers from the increasingly excited rabble. After a few minutes of this amusing diversion, her tormentor allowed her to straighten up, but it was only so she could be put in an even more humiliating pose. For now he had her turn around once more to face the mob. She stood before them with chin held high, her pale face expressionless. She stood there, a big blonde animal, powerful and sensual, and still coldly remote despite the lewd poses she was forced to adopt for the pleasure of her masters.

Cautioning her to keep her hands on her hips and hold herself erect, he ordered his captive to her knees. The pointed wand was used to nudge her knees apart, giving us a clear view of the blonde fleece of her vulva. In the most humiliating gesture of sexual subservience, he had her reach down and pry open the thick lips of her vagina to show her gaping sex to the cheering multitude. The crowd went wild!

After exhibiting herself for what must have seemed like forever, the kneeling woman was allowed to rise up and resume the first pose: hands clasped behind her neck The bidding was about to begin. At last, satisfied that he knew the value of what he had, the wily auctioneer stepped back, mounted the stage, and announced the starting price. The sum he mentioned to begin the bidding for this proud beauty took my breath away and got an audible gasp of admiration from the gaping crowd. And that was only where the brisk bidding started!

After that, I couldn’t get the powerful image of that big blonde out of my mind. It stayed with me by day, and it haunted my dreams at night. The achingly beautiful blonde girl forced to submit, to adopt the erotic poses demanded of her before the rabble of Rome. Her image came to me obsessively as I had first seen her splendidly tall, naked, and chained, her hands clenching the wooden bars of her cage as she looked out with icy disdain on the leering louts who would seek to tame her. And when Lucius spoke disparagingly of Rome, the reason for my restless discontent came to me in a flash. Thus the idea began to grow of going to that place where one might find and capture one of those rare blonde beauties. The idea took shape slowly, and it grew with my unexpected excitement I must go north!

For someone like me, there was much to recommend such a post First of all, it was said that with only a few denarii in his purse, a man could live like a king among those half-civilized tribes. Then there were rumors, vague but persistent, of hoards of gold kept hidden by the savage chieftains, there for the taking, the rich spoils of the war on the last frontier. It was true that all such booty belonged, in theory, to the emperor, but it was widely known that many an enterprising officer found ways to line his pockets along the way as the spoils of war made their way, not always intact it seems, back to the imperial treasury. And finally there was the legions’ generous practice, at some of these remote locations, of allowing a portion of the captives to be given to the soldiers as personal slaves.

Of course, the choice of any captives taken in battle would first go the officers. That thought inspired me. Did I dare to dream of owning such women as that caged Nordic goddess? Was it so inconceivable that someday I might possess one or more of those proud beauties? The thought fired my lust and convinced me, if indeed I needed any further convincing, that I would request a reassignment as soon as I could get to headquarters.

I knew there were those who would question my sanity when they found out that I had actually requested to be posted to the frontier. I would go to Gaul, where troops kept watch along the northern frontier; a place that seemed to many Romans like the very ends of the earth itself. Everyone knew the northern lands to be largely composed of dense gloomy forests peopled with semi-civilized but unkempt Gauls, savage Saxons, and that fiercely independent Germanic tribe known as the Teutons, who lived along the very fringe of empire. True, these barbarians had been tamed, at least for the moment, but it was widely agreed that renewed fighting might break out at any time. Surely no sane man would forsake the enticements of Rome for so desolate a place! But Lucius had been right. The alluring pleasures of Rome were not for such as us. Sadly, I realized the truth of his words: The finest delights would always remain the exclusive preserve of the rich and powerful.

Once I had decided my course of action, I never looked back, but went straight off to find Flavius, my commander, and then the company’s adjutant. Publius looked me up and down, squinting, studying my face with narrow brutish eyes, highly suspicious as to why anyone should make such an outlandish request. But I stood facing him calmly, Flavius’s written approval in my hand, waiting patiently, my expression totally noncommittal. He saw that I was determined. With a shrug and sad shake of his head, he signed the parchment and stamped it, sealing my orders officially.