Slave Girls Of Rome

Chapter Six. A Day At The Races

As you might well imagine from the preceding passages, my first summer at Bernesium was not altogether unpleasant. I spent many a leisurely day whiling away my hours there while enjoying the many delights of the house of Gratius. My official duties were hardly burdensome, although we were called upon increasingly to provide additional patrols to escort the passing caravans of slavers. It seems that a particularly nasty little war had erupted with the always-contentious Scythians, closing the normal trade routes so that the slavers were forced to divert their caravans through the mountains and past Bernesium. As a result, slave caravans began arriving in town, sometimes as many as two or three a week The slavers would set up camp on a grassy plain just on the edge of town. They would have arrived weary and content to spend a few days resting and refreshing themselves and their charges after the grueling march through the mountains.

The arrival of a fresh batch of slaves was always an occasion of excitement for the town. While their masters rested, the training of the slaves continued unabated, and this provided a unique show indeed! A crowd of townspeople would gather eagerly on those warm summer afternoons to watch the slaves being exercised, sweating and straining as they were put through their paces under the firm hand of their strict overseers. This interest was especially high if the lot were being trained as sex slaves, as was the case whenever Kimar’s caravans came to town, for this worthy always had the prettiest slaves, and they were inevitably exercised wearing nothing but their high collars and the wide leather straps that banded their wrists and ankles.

The training began early and was continuous throughout the march. The young women must learn many things in order to be able to serve properly. They must learn to be obedient, to meet any need that might be placed on them. They must learn the etiquette, posture, and deportment expected of a well-trained slave. They must be taught to adopt the proper pose for presentation: to stand at attention with hands behind their necks, to kneel in offering. They must be taught to walk properly, and to step lively. I often saw girls being put through their paces, forced to run in circles, knees raised high, heads thrown back, chins held high, as they raced around the arena, breasts jiggling and bouncing freely, much to the delight of the avid onlookers.

Races were run and various contests staged wherein the girls were said to learn the importance of discipline and teamwork though I suspected that the real reason for such games had more to do with the amusement of the slave drivers. I often stopped to watch these games, especially the “chariot races” that were staged with slave girls harnessed to the traces in teams. Of course, these were not the heavy war chariots found in the legions, but specially made lightweight traps, nothing more than a frame of saplings with two spoked wheels attached.

Teams of four or six girls were placed on hands and knees; harness straps laid upon their shoulders and belted to their hard young bodies. The chariot’s traces were then attached to the harnesses along their flanks. Smooth dowels of soft wood were placed between their teeth to serve as bits so that reins could be attached to steer. Since the onlookers liked to bet on the winners of these contests, one team was designated the “red” team; the other, the “blue.” The team colors were displayed by “tails” provided by the helpful slave drivers. These were plumes made of horsehair, dyed in vibrant colors, and sprouting from squat plugs at one end. The plug was oiled and inserted into a girl’s anus, the plume allowed to flop down over her bare bottom. I thought these “tails” a most delightful touch.

The team was now ready for the start of the race. But first, the drivers had to be chosen. For this task younger, slender, wiry girls were preferred. The drivers were given light switches which they used with considerable enthusiasm because the losers-drivers as well as teams-faced inevitable punishment once the race was over. So a simple flick of the light whip was all that was need to get them going, sending the naked slave girls scrambling over the grass, hips shifting and buttocks churning merrily as they crawled as fast as they could on hands and knees, pulling the little chariot behind them while the crowd cheered its favorites.

After the last of the day’s races, punishment was meted out, an event that had the crowd jostling forward and scrambling to find a place with a good view of the proceedings. The losers were lined up in a row side by side with enough distance separating them so they might widen their stance. As one of the slave drivers took his place behind the line, a wicked paddle in his hands, each girl in turn was made to spread her legs, bend over, and clasp her ankles. With well-trained slaves, the punishment proceeded like clockwork The first girl leaned over obediently, bending from the waist to reach down and grab her ankles. A single resounding “Smack’” rang out as the leather paddle met the jutting bottom, sending the girl jerking in recoil. At the sound of the solid blow, the next girl was to lean over immediately and assume the position, promptly offering up her tight young bottom for similar treatment.

Thus the overseer worked his way down the line. And woe to the girl who failed to hold the pose, for if the recoil should drive her to release her ankles and bound upward, hands flying back instinctively to rub away the hurt (as sometimes happened, particularly with novices), then she would be in for five more. Should the breach of protocol persist, the miscreant would be tied in place over a trestle to receive further instruction in perfect compliance.

As commander of the local garrison, I was made most welcome in the slavers’ camp. I quickly learned to allow Sergeant Metellus to negotiate with them to arrange for an escort, while I took advantage of their often-lavish hospitality. No man was more generous with his hospitality than Kimar, a prosperous slave dealer well known in certain circles in Rome, who specialized in providing the very finest sex slaves. When I first met him, I discovered how the wealthier slave dealers traveled in luxury.

I remember my surprise when Kimar, hatched-faced, with a perpetual lean and hungry look, first welcomed me to his spacious, pleasantly cool tent Expensive rugs had been thrown down on the floor of the tent, pillows were strewn about, and couches arranged around low tables heaped with fine food on golden plates so that one might wine and dine in comfort, all the while allowing one’s eyes the pleasure of visually caressing the naked bodies of a brace of attractive females. Slave girls were summoned regularly to enhance the surroundings, for Kimar dearly loved to show off his wares. And he did so in the most astonishing ways!

For example, an amazing sight greeted me as I entered the dimly lit tent. There-hanging by her wrists from a rope that ran over a pulley set at the very the top of the high tent post-was a naked woman. She was tall and slender, with long, dark hair spilling down over her shoulders. She had been gagged with a strip of red silk, and the rope which held her wrists high over her head had been pulled taut till her sleek curves stretched out in elongated sinuous lines.

The demanding pose might quickly have become painful had she not been strung up in such a way that her straining toes could just barely touch the rug, thus relieving the weight from her arms. A more demanding pose, my host confided, would have the girl trussed up with one leg raised, bent at the knee, the foot tied behind. This would have forced her to balance her weight on one foot only, poised on the very tips of her toes. He seldom used that particular pose, although it had its uses, he assured me with a cryptic smile.

I remember how, on one occasion, the inventive slaver had a girl hanging from the ceiling in a most unusual way. She was a small-breasted girl, built like a gymnast, with a lanky body, compact hips, and slender thighs. She had been suspended as “punishment” for some minor offense and, as was often the case, her master decreed that her punishment should serve as entertainment for his guests.

It so happened that I arrived just in time to see her being trussed up. She had been laid on the center of the rug on her belly, her legs pulled apart, arms pulled straight up over her head, and wrists bound together. The ropes that hung from pulleys placed at each corner of the tent’s ceiling were attached to the ankle and wrist bands, and the lines were tightened, hoisting her up till her body hung swaying a few feet off the floor. Her lithe torso bowed in a shallow curve, legs held open and pulled back, tits hanging down, and ass upturned and placed conveniently at hand.

Her master was not quite satisfied with the arrangements. As an additional refinement, he ordered that her slumping head be raised and her long auburn hair pulled back and the hank of hair looped with a cord that was attached to a thin belt that encircled the girl’s waist and pulled taut. The effect was to keep her head well up so the poor girl was forced see the guests who came to admire her, and they, in turn, could watch her eyes as they greedily savored her healthy young body. Finally, she was gagged, a wadded rag stuffed in her mouth and held in place with a silk scarf wrapped around her head. The gag would stifle any cries that might emerge as her tautly curved body was admired freely and lavishly by her master’s randy guests.

The esteemed visitor to Kimar’s tent was always graciously invited to sample his wares. There were several of us in the tent that day, and we each politely took our turns passing our hands slowly over the taut curves of that youthful swaying body, cupping the small hanging tits, running a flattened palm down over the shallow curve of the torso, pressing along the slope of the midriff, the undercurve of the belly and on up between the splayed sinewy legs to fondle the slightly gaping womanhood. The pert upturned ass beckoned seductively, simply inviting the masculine hand to feel the small tightened mounds, to squeeze and manipulate those firm little cheeks with abandon till the girl shook and we heard her stifled moans escaping from around the gag.

One fellow stood between the outstretched legs and took advantage of the gaping pussy placed before him to slide a finger or two between the pinkish lips of her vulnerable vagina. He tickled her innards and diddled her cunt with short tiny thrusts, till the gurgling moans rose in intensity, and he had the girl whimpering in short plaintive cries. Then he pulled back and waited while she tried desperately to close her thighs on his hand. And he teased her like that, toying with her highly responsive body till finally he took pity on her and decided to finish her off. We watched him finger-fuck the suspended girl with short furious strokes that had her mewing urgent cries and thrashing about in her bondage.

Kimar always accompanied his large slave trains on their journeys to Rome, and when he traveled, he traveled in style. For each journey, he selected a handful of the finest women to be his private harem for the length of the trip. He had a discerning eye, and the female slaves quickly learned to vie for his attention. Being chosen by the slave master meant a welcome respite from the long hours of marching.

The fortunate women whom he chose for his personal use to ease the rigors of the journey were most magnanimously permitted to ride on the wagons. They were well fed and well treated. Because their master insisted on cleanliness, they were given the opportunity to bathe frequently. And though they, like the other slaves, were kept naked when in camp, they were allowed to groom themselves and use cosmetics and scents that might serve to increase their appeal to their master. These slaves were shared generously with local dignitaries who were given special invitations to visit Kimar’s tents.

Once we were settled on the couches and given cups of wine, a handful of these attractive young girls would appear at the entrance to the tent, pleasingly naked save for the bands of leather at their necks, wrists, and ankles. Silently, and without a word from their master, they would enter and immediately arrange themselves shoulder to shoulder, standing in a row before the reclining guests. One could hardly help comparing the bare bosoms thus displayed, breasts of all shapes and sizes to be offered up in a comparison that was endlessly and inexplicably fascinating. And then there were the many variations among the furry vulvas tucked between their firm young thighs, all presented so freely in this open show of feminine charms. After a moment or two, the naked slaves dropped to their knees and bowed down, saluting with their foreheads pressed to the rug in the Persian manner, as they had been taught.

Then they rose to their feet, turned around in place, presenting their backs to us, and knelt once more to press their foreheads to the rug a second time, this time offering up their tempting naked bottoms to the assembled guests. They held the subservient pose until released. And sometimes their master made them hold it for a long time indeed, while the guests nibbled at their food, sipped their wine, and made casual conversation. In time the girls were released and the guests picked their companions for the evening in sort of lottery, two slave girls usually assigned to see to the needs of each male guest.

Increasingly, I was being invited to visit the tent of Kimar, only to find that I was his only guest. As always, he was gracious and most generous, but I couldn’t help getting the feeling that he was evaluating me, as though he wanted something from me. In some ways, the slaver and I were kindred souls. We shared an endless fascination with the joys of the flesh. Clearly pleased, he would acknowledge with a frank smile of understanding my genuine compliments of his ability as a true connoisseur of the well-made feminine form. During one of those conversations, I had expressed my soulful desire for a Nordic woman. We found that this, too, was a passion we both shared, though for different reasons.

On this particular night, Kimar seemed to be getting closer to something that had obviously been on his mind He told me how he had always found me a most reasonable man, a man of the world. I waited expectantly. Then it came. Since we both appreciated those rare Northern beauties, perhaps some arrangements might be made to our mutual benefit?

Of course, I had heard the rumors of war with the tribes on the frontier? I nodded, not wishing to appear ignorant in matters of military intelligence. It was common knowledge that the crafty old slaver had many spies, and I listened most intently to what he had to say on the subject Should hostilities once again break out with the Teutons, he went on, we might both profit He then proposed that I might make special efforts to see that our raids yielded as many of those choice beauties as possible. Moreover, I would then hold these captive women for Kimar, dealing with him exclusively.

In those days, it was common practice for enemy captives to be turned over to interested slavers, who waited on the edge of the war zone and appeared instantly after a raid to buzz around the camp like bees until they were given the opportunity to bid for the lot The proceeds of these sales went to the Emperor’s treasury in Rome, and it was well known, though not officially sanctioned, that sometimes a few denarii would find their way into the purse of the commander of the legion. But Kimar was proposing that certain captives be withheld from the open auction till the next time his caravan came to town. For each of these exceptional blonde beauties who might be turned over to him exclusively, a handsome sum would be reserved for me-a sort of commission. He called it a “finder’s fee.”

Of course I saw immediately the wisdom in what he proposed, and I gladly gave him my hand on it. The deal was struck. Smiling broadly over his exclusive triumph, Kimar then announced that now he had a very special treat for me. In honor of our pact, he had reserved an exceptional pair of slave girls just for me.

At the clap of his hands, the two women appeared, presenting themselves before me, standing side by side. They might have been sisters. These two had the pleasing good looks of certain Gaulish women, and had similar soft brown hair, worn pulled back from the face, then bound with a leather thong so that it fell in a length that was long and silky like a horse’s tail It was the style much favored among the Gauls. Although both were rather young, one looked quite definitely the other’s junior. She had a lean, almost pubescent body, with small crescent-shaped tits, and a thin haze of down on her slight Venus-mound; her companion had the nicely proportioned body of an attractive mature woman. She was well endowed with generous breasts, full rounded with just the slightest bit of sag to them, and a plump, thickly furred vulva. This was Sylla, Kimar said, the younger girl was named Tomi. They were given to me for the night.

On being presented, the pair instantly assumed the subservient position on their knees and bowed low. Then they got up and turned to repeat the ritual, offering their naked bottoms: the full, rounded, fleshy buttocks next to the pert set of asscheeks. Summoning a couple of slaves to attend to him, my host then settled back With his business being concluded so satisfactorily, he was now prepared to enjoy a bit of leisure. I bade the kneeling women rise and ordered them to attend to me, allowing them to remove my uniform while I stood there and let myself be undressed. Once naked, I invited my two attendants to join me on the couch. Then I set about exploring their considerable Gaulish charms.

I found myself pressed between the warmth of two delicious female bodies as we twisted and squirmed together on the couch. I lay rubbing myself all over Tomi’s nubile body while Sylla’s bountiful bosom burned into my back, all soft and warm and lovely. Things were heating up and threatening rapidly to get out of control, when I broke apart to pause so as to prolong my pleasure as much as possible. I swung my legs down to sit on the edge of the couch, my prick rigidly upright and throbbing with lust between my hairy thighs. I went to reach for my cup, but Tomi, wishing to please, reached for it at the same time and somehow managed to splash wine down my lap.

For a moment, she froze, horrified at what she had done! Had she displeased her master, and would he order that she now be punished for her clumsiness? But I was not that kind of master, and besides the girl could easily make amends by licking up the spilled wine. I had her kneel before me and merely pointed to my wet thighs. Obediently, her little tongue peeked out from between her small pursed lips and started licking. Meanwhile, Sylla hovered behind me, kneeling on the couch at my back Now she threw her arms around me and pressed her body to mine, squirming sensually, grinding her firmly rounded tits into my back My eyes slid closed and I sighed at the heavenly feeling of those twin delights.

Meanwhile, Tomi’s silken tongue was sliding wetly over my thighs, licking along the contours, delving down between them to get at the soaked pubic hair. I eased my thighs apart, spreading my knees and easing forward to give the slave girl greater access to my hanging balls. The flutter of her slavish tongue as it licked all over my furry scrotum electrified me. Then she was licking at the root of my shaft, sucking up the wine from the spongy pubic hair, before slowly lapping her way up the quivering length of my rigid penis. The feeling of her slowly traveling tongue was absolutely exquisite. Having arrived at the crown of my massive prick she leaned forward prepared to take me in her mouth, for that was what she thought I wanted. But I reached down to grab her by the hair and stop the sweet torture of her loving lips and devilish tongue.

“No, just lick! Lick it all up…every drop,” I managed to get out in a voice choked with passion.

And as the girl bent her head to follow my injunction, I got a sudden burst of inspiration. I pulled Sylla around to kneel beside me. Picking up the still-half-filled cup, I splashed the remainder of the wine right on her well-endowed chest. She gave a girlish giggle and shook her shoulders in surprise as the wine trickled down the slopes of her jiggling tits. Sliding my cupped hands down her flanks, I curled my fingers around her hips, digging into the pliant flesh of her asscheeks. Tightening my grip, I pulled the girl toward me and then I dove in, nuzzling those wonderful tits, pressing my face into the soft cleavage, nudging the taut mounds with lips and nose, all the while licking, lapping up the sweet-tasting wine, drawing my tongue up and over the lush contours while the woman writhed up before me in pure sensual delight.

She arched back, offering my greedy lips even more of her feminine pulchritude while I drew spiraling circles, zeroing in on the fat caps of her pink nipples. I kissed the sensitive tips, taking the protruding stems between my teeth and pulling on them till Sylla gave out with a low growl of pleasure. Then I suckled on those prominent nipples, drawing on them slowly and steadily, with the girl arching back and writhing in my arms all the while.

My recollection of events after that is a little confusing. Somehow we all three ended up on the rug. I remember Sylla’s comely body laid out before me as I straddled her hips. I leaned forward, bringing up my rigid prick to rub along its length her wet tits. I had her squeeze them together, imprisoning my rod between the squashed mounds of flesh, while I moved my hips and spent a little time fucking her tits. Then, just as I was about to shoot off, I moved higher, easing my stiff prick up over her chin and lips, to rub it all over her face.

Meanwhile, agile Tomi had slid behind me and, as I crouched down over the other girl, she began paying tribute to my upraised posterior, bringing her lips to my ass and licking lavishly while I clenched my butt against the maddening tickle. The sudden surge of electric pleasure when the probing tongue touched my anus sent me shooting off all over the pretty face of the supine woman, who closed her eyes but didn’t turn away. It was an unforgettable night.

Later Kimar asked me if I had enjoyed my fetching companions. When I responded most enthusiastically, thanking him profusely for his generosity, he asked me if I had ever before had the rare privilege of enjoying both a mother and her daughter at the same time! Perhaps, he added with a sly wink, I’d care to see them make love to each other? Someday he would arrange for the two slaves to perform with each other for my private amusement. It was, he assured me, truly a stimulating sight!