***Authors Disclaimer***
As some of you may have already realized, this is a work of fiction.
As such, it should only be seen as a work of fiction, and not a "how to" manual, or an endorsement of enslaving barbarians for sexual exploitation.
Every character and every scene and every action is all fiction.
Any resemblance to people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental, and also probably hilarious.
Every character in this work of fiction is of legal age, and considering the story is set in ancient Rome, they are probably a few thousand years old by now.
The story explores themes like non-consent in the form of slavery, bdsm, sm, bondage, forced orgasm, oral, vaginal, anal, deflowering of virgins, and probably also some really kinky stuff.
While all of this may not apply to the first chapter, we are certainly going to be heading in that direction.
It has a male protagonist, and female slaves.
If any of the above offends you, you might want to skip this story.
Or don't, I am not your real mom.
Just don't say I didn't warn you.
***End of Disclaimer*
It was my twenty-first birthday, and my Uncle Marcus, freshly home from conquering the barbarian tribes, had promised me that for my birthday, I could have my pick of the fresh slaves he had brought to Rome as part of his loot.
The slave pens were surprisingly clean. I had expected them to be foul pits, full of stinking refuse and human misery, but as Marcus had explained it to me, it was important to make sure the slaves were as healthy and fit as they possibly could be, before putting them up for auction.
It would be a poor slave master that would risk his profits, and that of his patrons, by not ensuring the comfort and hygiene for the slaves was top notch, and that they were both fed and watered.
More so for the women, than the men.
Most of the men would be simple workers, and men being men, were more likely to cause trouble.
Especially a fresh batch of newly enslaved barbarians.
Women, and in particular younger women, were useful for more than just brute work, and were far more likely to accept their fate, to bend their head to the will of the gods, and the will of their master.
Sure, some men were more valuable, if they had marketable skills, but if any of these ones could speak more than a hundred words in latin, I would eat my sandals. The barbarians had no formal education, the druids hoarded all of it for themselves, and those were almost never caught alive.
It didn't matter much to me, I was not here to look for an accountant or an architect. My father handled all the serious business of the family, I was just here to have a bit of fun, and pick out a few new toys to bring home.
As I looked around, I noticed that almost all the slaves here were adults, young and fit, with a few more mature sprinkled in. Elders would rarely be worth the trouble of bringing them to market, so their absence did not surprise me much.
"Where's all the kids?" I asked my uncle.
"I would have thought you caught a lot of those too?"
Marcus shrugged.
"Most kids are not worth that much, and those that are, are usually sold by contract, long before they reach the market."
"Contract?"
"Temples and academies require a lot. With not enough Greek slaves to go around the academies make a tidy profit taking in kids, and giving them some education, before selling them to wealthy patrons."
"Makes sense." I agreed.
"Those who turn out to be useless, are sold to the big farms. There is always a need for small hands there. But it is almost a loss for us."
Listening to Uncle Marcus talk so casually about capturing and enslaving barbarians always excited me. Father was wealthier by far, but uncle was fast catching up. Another successful campaign, and he might eclipse even father in wealth.
He didn't let it inflate his ego, he was a modest and humble man, with no need for choleric outbursts or boasting.
He knew his worth, both as a warrior and as a commander.
In many ways, Uncle Marcus was the man I was trying to model myself after.
Father wanted me to become a merchant first and foremost, like himself, but in my view, a merchant who was also a warrior like Uncle Marcus, would stand head and shoulders above the rest.
We had walked past several wings of the slave pens, when we arrived at the one that held uncles slaves.
A couple of armed guards, armed much like proper legionnaires, guarded the entrance, and on spotting Uncle, stood to attention with the crispness and precision of any legionnaire worthy of the name.
"At ease men. Any trouble?" Uncle enquired.
"None, Sir."
"Good. Carry on."
It took them a second to realize they should be opening the heavy door for us, but once they did, they scrambled to get it done.
As well respected uncle Marcus was with his men and his family, he was even more feared by those who did not know him as well.
I had been begging my father to allow me to go on campaign with my uncle, but so far it had been turned down every time.
Father claimed that it was far better for me to stay in Rome and work on my connections, because while there might be good money in defeating the barbarians, one day they would all be tamed. But Rome, he said, would be eternal.
I had a feeling he might relent, once he saw how influential uncle Marcus was getting.
It was said that when he finally retired, he might even become a senator!
Entering the pen, I was amazed at how many slaves there were.
They were separated into several cells, with two cells full of what might have been around a hundred men, all seemingly strong and fit, though several wore fading marks of the lash on their backs, a few wore more recent ones.
Most of the rest of the cells were packed with women, and even a couple of babies.
