Slave Girls Of Rome

Chapter Five. Curious Pleasures

Among the unique delights of the house of Gratius were the many novel and imaginative ways devised by the inventive proprietor to display his girls for perusal by his many guests and customers. I well remember the day when the pretty slave who met me at the door escorted me straight through the big house to where my host waited for me on the back porch, a generous semicircle that jutted out, opening onto the grassy lawn below, giving a superb view of the lake. A line of tall columns was set along the outside rim of the sweeping porch.

And now I saw that our ingenious host had affixed a slave to each column! Each girl was secured with her hands against her side, her back to the column, and kept in place with three thin leather strips. One cut into the soft flesh just below her breasts. Another belted her loins snugly by spanning her hips. The third pressed tightly into the flesh across a line at mid-thigh. On a leisurely summer day, one could stroll along the porch, enjoying the view, pausing here and there to admire these living statues that adorned the vista, perhaps to run your hands freely over a firm young body, or to sample a conveniently placed nipple.

Guests were encouraged to enjoy the wares. And sometimes games and contests were held, each more perversely erotic than the last. One of the favorite games of the male guests (and the occasional female guest as well) would involve arousing the slave girls’ passions, fondling their healthy, responsive bodies most shamelessly, till they had the young women squirming in the heat of desire. The object was to see who would be the first to bring his “statue” to climax. For this game, the slaves were blindfolded and then tied in such a way that their legs were stretched open, giving free access to their splayed pussies. Gratius, who had thoroughly explored the many uses of olive oil, had a generous coating of that versatile lubricant poured over the tightly bound slaves, so that their lustrous bodies gleamed in the sunshine.

Quite naturally, I had the opportunity to try my hand at this contest. I selected a slightly built girl whose breasts sported plump little nipples that stuck out impudently, just begging to be touched. I came up to her now, as my fellow contestants (there were four of us) took their respective places along the curving line of columns.

I stood only inches from the slave, admiring her close-cropped hair. Most of her features were hidden by the wide silk swath that formed the blindfold, but I could tell that she was fair of skin, her hair a soft golden brown, her neatly chiseled lips pursed and expectant. The slave girl stood alertly, small pointed chin held high above the collar that banded her throat, lips parted, her young body keen with anticipation. My eyes took in her splayed-out form, the vulnerable womanhood pulled open between the sinewy muscles of her extended thighs, the trim ankles and narrow feet. I watched her shallow breathing: her chest gleaming with oil, the slight swells of her young breasts glistening, pert nipples shining in the noonday sun.

When I put my hands around the girl’s banded neck, she flinched, drawing in a sharp gasp of surprise at the first contact. I had approached her stealthily, and the blindfolded young woman didn’t know that a silent admirer stood watching her only inches away. I moved my hands up her neck to hold her face between my hands. Still holding her, I drew one finger across her small mouth, pressing back the fleshy lips. She opened her mouth obediently to accept my impertinent finger, suckling on it. The girl was well trained! I moved my finger in her hot little mouth, exploring the palpitating tongue, tracing the gums, the ridge of teeth, while she sucked and moved her restless tongue under and around my probing digit. Extracting my finger, I slid my hands over the collar and down her neck, to rest them on the girl’s oily shoulders.

Now I let my hands appreciate the subtle contours of that fine lustrous body, moving down and up the lines of her supple arms while her small hands clenched in mounting excitement. Clasping her shoulders, I flattened my palms and brought my hands together at the top of her girlish chest. Then I drew my hands down slowly over the faint ridge of her collarbone, sliding over the slick skin onto the soft rises of her young breasts, pressing the heels of my palms into those pliant swells, no more than slightly raised disks, whose exact centers were delineated by those impertinent nipples. The girl stiffened and held herself rigidly still as I pressed my palms into the yielding softness of her small pancake tits.

I brought my hands down slowly till my fingertips felt her pebbly hard nipples. I pressed my palms into the surrounding softness, moving them in tiny circles. The little slave curled her lower lip and bit down with a row of tiny white teeth, trying to stifle the whimper that managed to escape as I massaged her nipples. It didn’t take much of this till I had her moving her shoulders, squirming with the rising heat.

Excited by her growing arousal, I plucked gently at the stiffening buds, pinching the oily nipples between thumb and forefinger, rolling the little nubbins as I tugged on the elastic flesh, pulling to stretch her nipples till she groaned under the sweet torture. I soon had those tips swollen with excitement, the aureoles expanded, tiny stems protruding saucily. The girl tried to arch back against the pillar, raising her bosom, begging silently to offer me even more, but I had other territory to explore. And so I left those pretty tits heaving raggedly, their excited tips throbbing and proudly erect. I moved on, sliding my palms along their shallow under-curves and down her slippery body, over the traces of her rib cage and beyond, down her taut belly. The slave girl sighed; a sigh of disappointment, or perhaps a sigh of relief. I couldn’t tell which.

Now my hungry hands glided along the tightly drawn skin of her belly, moving back and forth between the ridges of the jutting hipbones, delighting in the smooth feel of that satiny skin. My fingers were soon edging along the light haze of fuzz, darkened with oil, that started low on her belly and trailed down to form the thicket of moist curls spreading over her splayed underarch. Crouching down before her, I looked-but did not yet touch-the girl’s vulnerable pussy. Instead, I placed my hands on her hips, and slowly followed the flaring contours of her haunches over the cradle of her hips and down onto her tapering thighs. I traced along her straining thigh muscles. The tendons stood out, sculpting and shaping the sinewy contours. I followed the resulting plane that sloped into the silken flesh of her inner thigh. I ran my fingers up and down her inner thighs, edging always closer to the center of her arch. I saw the tautly drawn tendons twitch as I stroked her opened thighs.

A demanding surge of lust shot through me, and I got to my feet abruptly. Stepping close to the bound girl, only inches from her taut body, I pressed down along her belly with the heel of my hand and was soon palming the slave girl’s pubic mound, rubbing it gently at first, then more firmly fondling that fleshy Mount of Venus while the girl leaned back and let her jaw drop. A soft moan came from her open mouth.

I held the girl by her sex and closed my hand, cupping the arch of her pubic bone, curling my fingers up into the soft folds of flesh between her legs, squeezing the bulging lips of her vulva, feeling her incredible inner heat. My fingers felt along her protruding nether-lips, pressing in, the middle one slipping into the delicate folds to probe her slick depths and getting a shuddering moan of pleasure. As my finger slid wetly up all the way into her cunt, the girl groaned long and low from somewhere deep in her throat.

I watched her blindfolded face, saw the twinge of urgency crease her brow; saw her twitch, squirming helplessly, her hips moving sensually against the column. Arching back, she rolled her head from side to side as I jiggled my finger, now buried to the hilt in her slick little vagina. She strained back, raising her hips and grinding her hot sex against my palm while the tendons of her thighs grew rigid, the muscles tightening as she thrust upward. The erotic sight of the young girl burning with sexual heat sent my pulse racing, the fire of lust surging up in me, driving me to take her. To hell with the contest!

Tingling with excitement, I tore at my clothes, snatching off my tunic and loincloth, till I stood in nothing but my sandals, my turgid penis proudly upstanding up in bold salute to the naked woman writhing before me. Positioning myself right between her arched legs, I guided my straining penis to the edge of her gaping pussy and took her abruptly, lunging forward, driving up her wet, pulsating vagina in a single powerful thrust that caused the girl to stiffen and draw in a sharp hiss of breath through clenched teeth. I clamped her slick hips and, holding onto her with both hands, wiggled my loins while thrusting upward, burying my engorged prick up her cunt to the hilt The impaled slave threw back her head and let out a low shuddering moan of deep satisfaction.

The heavenly feel of the girl’s tight young pussy was exquisite. I fucked her with deep, full thrusts, speeding up till my hips were bucking with furious abandon, powering my prick into her with maddened lust, crazed to see the slave girl’s hot, twisting body thrashing about in erotic frenzy. She was making tiny little grunts now with each thrust of my loins, a crisp staccato that told me she was getting close to the edge. I held on, grimly determined to match my release to hers. I felt the tremendous upsurge of my climax, and rammed into her, holding myself in place, buried in her churning depths as she gasped and stiffened. She cried out in long, lingering moans as a tremor rippled through her thin frame, followed by a more definite shudder, deeper and more massive. I came in a thunderous explosion of pure pleasure while the slave girl shook and trembled in the throes of orgasmic delight, and then went limp, sagging in her bonds.

After the contest, the exhausted girls were released and allowed a few moments to rest and collect themselves, before being sent to the lake to wash off all traces of oil, and whatever other fluids might be decorating their bodies. They followed this routine with enthusiasm, racing down to the edge of the water, plunging in from the outcrop of rock, swimming and cavorting in the shallow lake, their close-cropped hair wetly plastered down, their hard young bodies glistening with a sheen of streaming water as they climbed out onto the rocks. To see the bevy of nude beauties shrieking and frolicking in the lake like spirited water nymphs was truly invigorating, and already my recovering manhood was raising its head in a definite renewal of interest. I don’t know who first started toward the inviting lake; suddenly the handful of naked male guests were running pell-mell in a mad rush to join the girls. Soon we were joyfully splashing and swimming among them, making mock attacks and being attacked in turn as small feminine hands found our vulnerable parts, exciting us with slithering underwater caresses.

Over the next several months, I got to know Gratius quite well. I became a regular guest at his frequent orgies. He was a man who partook fully of the joys of life, wallowing in lust and indulging his unflagging passion shamelessly. I have observed that every man has some secret obsession, some particularly perverse whim, that were he able to freely indulge, would send him to unimagined heights of the sheerest ecstasy. Gratius was no exception.

Almost twenty years older than I was, he had a wealth of experience in a lifetime devoted to the decadent pursuit of pleasure. But even though he may be slightly jaded in the ways of the flesh, Gratius still found youthful delight in one aspect of the feminine anatomy. He was totally smitten by the well-made female posterior! Gratius was a man who absolutely adored a shapely bottom, and he maintained that there were few pleasures greater than that derived from merrily spanking a choice, well-placed rear end. Enthusiast that he was, he had raised spanking to an art form. It was a sport I had tried once or twice in Rome, but never fully appreciated till I learned the finer points at the hands of Gratius of Bernesium.

I had seen him take the occasional playful swat at the tail of a passing slave girl as she was sent scampering to do his bidding. And of course I had noticed that he was happily engaged in spanking the little slave who had positioned herself over his lap during the battle of the well-oiled “gladiators.” But on that occasion I had been much too preoccupied myself to pay a great deal of attention to my host. It was not really until one day in the baths when I saw the maniacal gleam in his eye as he walloped a bouncing bottom, that I realized the intense pleasure the act of spanking gave him.

Among the many Roman customs Gratius had transplanted to his provincial villa were the pleasures of the bath. A true Roman, he believed strongly in cleanliness, insisting that his girls bathe daily. And of course he liked to join them. On one occasion, we sat in the warm languorous air, naked, being attended to by a handful of female slaves in the short hip-length tunics that were the livery of the house of Gratius. In the thick steamy perfumed air, the flimsy tunics had become moistly transparent, and the wet fabric clung to every contour of their hard young bodies. We had drunk a few cups of wine, and Gratius had grown expansive. I said little, only nodding now and then, while he went on, waxing philosophical. His monologue was on one of his favorite subjects: the pleasures of the flesh.

As he rambled on, I kept one eye on the fetchingly clad slaves, especially a tall, splendid girl, long-limbed, with raven black hair that fell to her shoulders, and a pair of the most startling blue eyes. She noticed my attention, and lowered her eyes, smiling slightly, as though not displeased at all by my obvious interest By now I was intimately familiar with all of Gratius’s slaves but I had never seen this one before, for surely I would have remembered her.

Not for the first time, Gratius was rhapsodizing on his favorite sport, the playful spanking of a delightful female behind, all the while idly watching the little slave whom I had last seen upended over his lap. This was Rhea, one of his favorites, and she was gathering up some towels. As she bent down, her tunic skirt slid up to lie wetly plastered over the top of her exposed buttocks. The gesture was enough to stop my host in mid-sentence. A sharp word of command caused the girl to freeze as she was, her trim rear end half-turned in our direction. It is the irresistible allure of a well-made bottom that appeals so invitingly to the hand, he explained, his gaze fixated on the elegant curve of the girl’s haunches, the seductive roundness of those pert twin mounds. To experience the fullest pleasure, the lecherous connoisseur continued, one must learn to absolutely savor the moment. So saying, he invited the bending Rhea to his lap. He would be glad to show me how it should be done properly, should I care to see a demonstration. I might even want to practice myself on one of the handy slaves, he continued; perhaps the new girl, Maya, he allowed, noting the obvious interest I had in the tall dark-haired slave.

Soon we were both seated with knees widespread on separate benches placed across from one another, with a slave girl sprawled over each lap. The raven-haired girl lay over my spread thighs so that her inverted head dangled down over my left leg, her long hair falling to the floor, while her extended legs angled down till her toes touched the floor on the right I felt her weight on my bare thighs, the press of a hip that rested solidly against my upstanding penis.

Gratius began by running his curved hand up and down the back of the girl’s bare legs; I followed suit, enjoying the smooth feel of those long tapering thighs, while Maya wiggled to get more comfortable. I watched him slip his hand up higher to ride up onto the little skirt and slowly rub the slippery fabric over the taut mounds, all the while brooding on the brevity of man’s life. Then the randy philosopher slid the thin fabric up and over the twin slopes, baring Rhea’s neat little bottom to his insatiable eyes. I thrilled at the pleasant prospect of unveiling the lovely swells of Maya’s upturned bottom. Firmly cupping a handsome cheek through the slippery silk, I gave her a reassuring squeeze. I smiled to see her asscheeks clench instinctively as I savored the feel of her hardened ass.

I spent several minutes squeezing and massaging those lovely rearmounds through the wispy damp fabric, watching them tighten and slacken, savoring the delicious feel of those soft, firm mounds, admiring the perfect symmetry of those lovely twin swells quivering under my hand. With delicate precision, I pinched the gauzy film away from her hips and held it between thumb and forefinger, exposing an elegant pair of rounded domes, smooth and sleek, and divided by a dark narrow center-crease. The fig of the girl’s pursed vulva, adorned with wispy tufts of black pussyfur, peeked out saucily from between her loose thighs. The sight sent a surge of shimmering excitement racing through me. I couldn’t resist bringing a finger up, lightly touching her there, getting a reflexive twitch of the hips as the girl shifted uneasily in my lap.

These were the preliminaries which Gratius assured me were of the utmost importance, the toying foreplay, so necessary to assure that the smoldering excitement would build in both the seated master and the laid-out slave. And so I spent some time playing leisurely with the slave girl’s naked ass, letting my host set the pace. I watched as he slid his flattened hand up to rest it firmly on the small of Rhea’s back, pinning her in place. I did likewise, spreading my knees to better balance the long-bodied girl’s languid weight, placing a hand on her back to steady her. I saw Maya’s butt muscles clench tight as the fearful slave girl tensed up in anticipation, the sleek sides of her cheeks hollowing out, the dark channel squeezed to a narrow slit. She knew what was about to come!

Together, my host and I raised our right hands. At his nod, we struck.

“Whap! Whap!” two shots rang out almost simultaneously and two girls bounded up, kicking up their heels and yelping in startled reflex. Before she had time to recover, I struck again, whacking Maya’s bottom with crisp authority, using the flat of my hand to deliver a glancing blow that set her rearmounds jiggling. 1 heard the girl cry out; her legs swinging up behind, scissoring the air frantically. I smacked her bounding bottom merrily again and again, relishing the bouncy resiliency of her jiggling assmounds.

The girl jerked forward with each impact, her legs kicking wildly now, while she twisted and squirmed across my lap. 1 immediately clamped my left hand down even harder on the small of her back, pinning her solidly in place across my open thighs while I spanked her soundly, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her quivering mounds as they danced under my repeated slaps.

I walloped the trembling swells with grim determination, watching them redden under the unrelenting assault. Maya was yelping now, each sharp cry punctuated by the resounding echo of a crisp slap as I smacked the quivering, blushing bottom mercilessly.

For a while, she tried to deflect the blows by twisting her hips. When that didn’t work, she tried to steel herself by tightening her cowering cheeks in anticipation. But under my steady smacking, she soon realized the futility of trying to resist. In time, she simply went limp, allowing her butt muscles to slacken, yielding to the continual assault, accepting her spanking with passive resignation.

After several exciting minutes spent walloping the slave girl’s delectable bottom, my hand was tingling, throbbing with a dull ache which forced me to stop and rest. I used the pause to admire my handiwork. The flushed cheeks of Maya’s handsome bottom throbbed with a rosy hue. I couldn’t resist caressing that well-spanked behind, savoring the pleasant warmth I had generated in her burning rear-end A plaintive whimper came from the inverted head of my long-legged slave girl, and she squirmed her hips in a sensual wiggle, signaling to me that the heat she was feeling as a result of the spanking was not confined to her bottom.