Slave To The Romans Pt 01

CHAPTER 1

I had learned enough of the ways of the Romans to know what was going to happen next. I had taken off my tunic and stood naked before my new master who looked me over. He put his middle finger in my mouth and I sucked it. He took it out and grinned. Reaching round he thrust it into my arsehole and wiggled it. Fortunately I had been frequently buggered by my previous master, so it did not hurt as it did the first time I suffered it. He was pleased when it came out brown, and held it before me, his fist closed and the finger raised in the symbol of humiliation.

"Suck it!" and he placed it in my mouth. He was pleased to see me struggling not to retch. This is to prove that he can do anything with me, including torture and death, but also (and most often) humiliation. The Romans like humiliation. Rich Romans do it to poor ones, men do it to women and they all do it to slaves. Their whole society is built on showing that some people are superior to others. And of course, other races like me are inferior.

My last master had not been too bad. I think some of the beatings and sex were not really because he wanted, but just because he thought he ought to. His wife quite liked me (as far as any Roman likes a slave) and would not let her husband deflower me, only use my arse, so here I was, quite old to be a virgin, nearly twenty, which had greatly increased my price. The slave market of course claimed I was only fifteen. I knew that one day some Roman would use me fully, but what really bothered me was the thought of my children becoming slaves.

However, one of the greatest humiliations was being ignored. When my previous master and mistress had sex they simply did not care if slaves were about. We were simply furniture. She would also send me to the shops with money. It was not a matter of trust: she just knew I would obey. Not only would I be punished and possibly killed if I did not, the other slaves would be tortured if I ran away. The Romans depend on slaves and subject states but their cruel laws keep them in power.

My new master spoke to me in Greek. I pretended I did not understand, which pleased him and he changed to Latin. The Roman upper classes like to speak Greek to show they are cultured, and pretend to admire Greek art. I knew Greek before I was captured, as that is the language of the traders who come to our port, but I only learned Latin as a slave. I am careful to make mistakes in Latin to show my inferiority.

"Now get dressed, and meet your mistress."

His wife was a fat lazy woman lying on a couch, which was no surprise, with fancy clothes and hair. I later learned that they did not get on, but her father was a very important man, so she had to be treated well.

"Sweetheart," he said. "Here is a new slave for you. I bought her because she is a skilled ornatrix." (This means someone who styles the hair and generally helps a wealthy woman to adorn her.) She snorted, not believing him. (She was right.)

"Not in that cheap tunic," she said and clapped her hands. Another female slave, quite old, maybe 40, understood, and went to get a better one. "Take it off." So I did.

She looked me over and snorted again. "Virgo intacta?" she asked, and her husband nodded. "Well let's keep it that way. I don't want her getting pregnant just yet, like the last one." She smiled sweetly and her husband smiled sheepishly. "Now what shall we call her?"

Actually, I have a name which they might have liked, but it did not occur to them to ask, any more than you would ask a dog.

"How about Nyx?" said my master, and I could see from her expression he had made a bad mistake.

She switched to Greek. "The Greek goddess of the night? Does she speak Greek?"

"No my sweetheart, she does not." I stood still, head bowed, looking at the floor as they discussed me (like a new piece of furniture). I was slightly pleased. In changing language they had at least recognised my existence, and wished to keep some things from me.

"Well, she is dark enough and she has a lovely body. I expect you thought you would worship her every day."

"No, no, my love, you are my only goddess. It was a silly idea, forgive me."

She switched back to Latin. "Let's call her Nubia." If I still cared, I would have been annoyed. I didn't look anything like a Nubian. I longed to tell her that she was as much property as me. Her husband owned her, and all her property (including me) belonged to him. Unlike my own society where women could own property and have business in their own right. And our slaves were merely indentured for seven years, not for life, and still treated as human. But I stayed silent. I did not need to know their names: they were just master and mistress, my dominus and domina.

The old woman brought a nice tunic, good quality wool, which I put on.

"Well, you'd better get it over with," she continued to her husband, then addressed me in slow Latin as if talking to an idiot.

"Nubia, you are to go and fuck my husband, and make sure he enjoys it. Then come here and we will see about your duties."

"Mistress." I replied. That was all I needed to stay.

She spoke in Greek to her husband. "That's if you think you can manage. And I shall be expecting some worship of your own goddess a bit more often."

He took me to his chamber and told his slave Cretus to fetch olive oil. They obviously had the Greek habit of oiling beforehand. He then used me, with Cretus standing by. I was always sorry for the male slaves under these circumstances. To watch other people having sex can be disgusting or exciting, but a woman does not show it. Some Roman women like to have male slaves naked and to see them get erect, and punish them for it. Of course it would be unthinkable for her to actually have sex with a slave, though it is expected of her husband.

I lay down on a couch and Cretus poured some oil on me. My master proceeded to enjoy feeling me. I could understand that my young body was better than the flabby fat of his wife, and under other circumstances could have appreciated his hands. I even became slightly aroused by the way his hands moved over my firm young breasts or around my thighs.

I glanced over at Cretus, who was standing stony-faced, but I could see his loincloth had moved. Poor Cretus. He was a fit young man, and I began to imagine that it was his hands not Dominus. I closed my eyes and felt so much better. I began to breathe harder and move around a little and Dominus could obviously feel my excitement. He actually drooled onto me as he whispered "Oh Nubia, you like that, don't you? Oh you're beautiful." He was almost treating me like a woman, but not for long.

He suddenly turned me over and massaged my buttocks, which are quite round (as is the way of my people, compared with Roman women), muttering "lovely, lovely, so gorgeous". He then signalled to Cretus and held me apart while oil was poured on and a finger came in and massaged me rather gently. (I later discovered that it was Cretus.)

Dominus then pushed me off the couch and lay back himself, to fuck in the Roman way (which is not the way of my people but I had learned). I knelt above him and lowered my arse onto his cock.

The Romans have a theory that small male genitals are indicative of a higher human development. They particularly like to feel superior to black men and to disparage both their colour and the low animal status indicated by their cocks. I could see that my master felt himself a very superior being. It was not a great deal different from the finger. I rocked up and down as he massaged my breasts some more. As I had learned with my previous master, I moved and gently moaned as if I was enjoying it.

It did not take long. I felt his vile seed inside me. He collapsed for a moment, then just waved his hand and said "Off! Wine!" I climbed off and he sat up as Cretus handed me a towel with one hand and gave his master the wine with the other. But the humiliation was not over.

"Clean me up!" he said, and I started with the towel. "With your mouth, stupid bitch!"

It took a moment for me to understand, and he said it again slowly, with relish. I knelt down and sucked his horrid Roman cock. Fortunately the oil meant that the shit had not stuck too badly, but its bitter taste was still there. I thought of the joy I would experience with one swift bite. It would be worth my death, but not the death of Cretus who would certainly suffer the same fate.

I licked his cock and balls clean, then spoke respectfully, "O Master?"

He grunted and nodded to indicate that I could speak.

"I hope I pleased you. Now shall I go to Domina?"

"Go to Domina. And yes, you pleased me." Cretus opened his eyes a little wider. He later told me I had received a rare compliment.

I wiped myself as well as I could on the towel, put on my tunic and hurried back to Domina. For a new slave it is always a good idea to hurry.

On the way I was stopped by the older woman who introduced herself. Her slave name was Luna, but she was really Anwen, and from a country I had never heard of called Breton. I told her my true name, but she said we should only ever use them only if we were very far from the house and sure no-one could overhear.

She asked if I had pleased Dominus, and I said I thought so. She said "That's good. I expect he got you to suck him clean after. Sorry about that." I said I could put up with it.

"Right," she said. "Now Domina is likely to ask you to clean her after she has been to the latrine."

"Oh no!" I gasped a little too loudly, and she shushed me. Was my life just to be licking shit from now on?

"Listen," she continued. "It's not the arse she cares about. It's the front. If you can lick her to pleasure while she pretends she is humiliating you, then all will be well. Do you know how to do it?"

I said fortunately my mother and sisters had told me about this, though I had never done it. It is known that men do not always give satisfaction and as the women are often together, they help out.

"Just don't do it too well. Don't give her the moment of joy - she doesn't know about it, and doesn't deserve it. These upper class Romans do not know what ordinary women do. She obviously doesn't get it with her husband, so when I am alone and pleasuring myself it is a blow against her. Think of this when you do the same, but in the name of your gods, keep quiet. We are robbed of being able to express our joy as women, but it would be dangerous if you were heard." She looked sad.

I got back to Domina, who asked me if I had pleased her husband. "He said that I did, Domina," which seemed to satisfy her, and she said she needed the latrine. I held out my arm and helped her arise from the couch. In the latrine I was relieved to hear her just piss and fart, in my presence, of course. She did not use the sponge to clean herself, but took me over to a bench in an alcove, and lay down with one leg down to the floor and the other knee raised.

"Slave, clean your mistress!" she commanded. I hesitated. "Lick me clean, stupid pagan girl!" she added. I determined to do a bad job, and knelt down.

Fortunately the Romans like to bath a lot, so it was not too bad. It tasted of piss, of course, and quite strong due to her rich diet, but it could have been worse, and I was only gagging slightly. I licked around her groin where the thighs meet the body, then around her lips, slowly on each side. I waited a moment to allow her anticipation, then moved to the base of her vulva. I know women like to be teased, but I had to balance pleasing her, but not too much. I then took my tongue all the way up between her lips and over her hairy mound. She gasped, but I had to stop as that was the worst for taste, and tried to swallow and clear my mouth. A mouthful of wine would have been wonderful, but instead I had to go down to get the woman's juices from her cunt and work my way up again. I went round carefully, covering all the area, and stopped.

"Clean the middle properly!"

So I took my tongue up across her piss-hole, and up and over the joy knob several times. I could tell she wanted more, but could not ask it for pleasure. I thought to myself that if I were a servant, not a slave and was asked nicely when she was clean, then I would not mind pleasuring my mistress properly this way. Thus Domina robbed herself of delight which would have been given freely.

I felt a moment of triumph when she grunted "I suppose that will do."

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CHAPTER 2

That night in the women slaves' quarters, Luna told me about the rest of the household. Cretus has no other name and has forgotten his native language. His earliest memory is crying in a burning village, but then being treated kindly by some Roman soldiers. The door slave is Sextus, which is his real name and he is a bitter man, having once been a Roman citizen. Some say he was punished for wrongdoing as a soldier, others that he sold himself to pay off gambling debts, and thus save his own life and prevent harm to his family. She told me to beware of him, as he is glad to get the other slaves punished. The cook and the gardener are an old married couple who have their own bedroom. They were born slaves and know nothing else. He had been a gladiator and had been mated with her when he had to retire from injuries, with a hope to breed more gladiators. They were lucky because although two of their sons died in the arena, another one was a slave nearby and they sometimes saw him. She said that I should not rely on them to keep a secret, partly from their loyalty and partly from their failing minds. There was also a scribe who lived outside and just visited. Apparently he ran the business, which would have been more successful with fewer instructions from Dominus. He was clever, but mainly came once a week to discuss the accounts and deal with letters. Others occasionally came in from the farm or stables.

Of herself she said that she had been used by two masters and had four children, all slaves. Her greatest secret was that she had also been fucked by another slave, and she believed her third child, a son, was his and not her owner's. She had given him a name from her people and told him, in secret, of course. He had been sent away to be a charioteer when he was eight and she had never seen nor heard of him since. Being a charioteer is dangerous and boys are often killed, but successful ones can often do well enough with prize money to become free men.

She asked me if I hated Romans, and I said that I did.

"That hate and your real name are the only things you will ever own," she said. "Keep them burning inside you and you may live long as well as you can. But give up hope, for hope leads to despair. Accept that as a woman and a slave you have nothing else and never will. You may be given clothes, even money which you think is yours, but it can be taken away from, as will your children. Knowing this is why I have lived so long. Be careful whom you trust, and be on your guard."

(Though she said she had no hope, I suspect there was the thought that her charioteer son might come to find her and buy her freedom one day.)

She continued. "The greatest danger to you is from Cretus. I think he hates Dominus, but I am not sure of his loyalty. But what is worse is he is a healthy young man who lusts as much as any Roman, probably more. It is only natural that he should desire you, and it is likely that you will come to desire him. For both your sakes, keep away as much as you can, and try not to provoke him. He will see you being fucked and there is nothing to be done about that, but simple touches and kind words may encourage him more than he can stand, and he may do something that could get both of you punished severely. At all costs don't tell him your real name because that would show him that you care."

"One more thing. Beware of children. Domina's daughters of course, but the kitchen girl and the stable boy who comes to clean. They can be quiet and you may not notice them, but they have sharp ears."

Finally, she said "Would you like me to show you how I can lick a woman properly? I don't know when we will get the chance, as she may tell you sleep on the floor of the bedroom instead of in the slaves' quarters. Please let me, but keep quiet."

After a day of sorrow, I had the best thing that had happened to me for years. I was pleasured by a woman, freely and in companionship. But it was not all it could be.

Domina does not know what she has been missing! Luna was so loving and careful. From the beginning I could feel my cunt swelling inside, and the feelings around my vulva were more delicate than anything I had given myself. I lay back with my eyes closed as she slowly approached my joy knob and I was just awash with pleasure. Everything else was forgotten but the pleasure and the tender feelings towards this loving woman. Wisely (as I later realised) she brought me up near the moment of joy, then down again, holding me in that heaven anticipating it.

I began to moan, and she stopped and covered my mouth. "Hush. Nobody can hear a sound of joy from you. We don't know who could be listening."

I was fired up with lust and sudden disappointment. It was too much. I began to cry with great sobs. It was so cruel to be denied. I felt anguish for myself, and other slaves and women in general.

"Cry all you want," she said. "There are those who will relish your unhappiness. But only when you are not working. There you must be no more unhappy than a couch or table. When they say something to make you cry, instead turn it to hate deep inside."

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CHAPTER 3

The next day I accompanied Domina to the baths. Although the villa has its own bath-house, the public baths are an important social occasion where the rich women meet to exchange gossip. As slaves are possessions, the women also compete, and Domina was very well pleased when they said how pretty I was. She treated me better, like a pet, for the rest of the day. The previous ornatrix visited with her young baby and instructed me how Domina liked her hair, and whispered a few other details. With Luna's help I soon learned to do it well enough to be grudgingly accepted.

Meanwhile I was being buggered at least twice a week and having to lick a pissy cunt nearly every day. I also waited while my owners had inelegant sex usually once a week, when she did not have a period. No-one said anything, but they preferred it where he could see me and she could see Cretus. They usually had a piss beforehand and I had to clean them before they mated. As she was trying to get pregnant, she put her hand on her vulva and lay back to keep his seed inside, often falling asleep. When she awoke, of course I had to lick the seed which had leaked out. It all nurtured my hate.

Domina's sister came to visit and gave a lesson in humiliation, all dressed up in praise. How pleasant it was to get away from Rome to this rural tranquillity. It must be great not to have so many social obligations. And what a pleasure to have simple rustic cooking instead of the fancy meals which are so fashionable. How wise to have so few slaves: it can be a burden managing a large household, but then this villa is so delightfully compact. Your hair really suits you; I do think the old styles are the best. How is your husband's business? Of course, difficult times, though some people seem to do well. Oh, by the way my sons are growing big and strong and clever and good looking. How are your daughters, dear?

This was one of the rare occasions I saw the daughters, who lived separately with their own slaves and a Greek tutor. The youngest was still a charming child, but the oldest, about nine, had already learned to treat her slaves with contempt, earning some rare praise from the visitor. "A proper Roman lady already!"