A Slavegirl of Rome
Introduction:
A slightly updated version of an old story I wrote years ago, may continue it if given enough positive feedback.
Even in the heat of the midday of a roman summer day, she shivered under the awning. Dressed only in shift that barely covered her nubile body, the young girl knew that today, in just a few moments, she would be hauled up on the platform, to be offered for sale to the highest bidder, to be sold and bought and owned like any other commodity, like a bowl, like any kitchen utensil. And she knew enough of men to know that her chances of going to sleep as virgin tonight were slim or nonexistent, as any probable owner would claim her as his own, her body his sexual property, to use and abuse in any way he might possibly imagine. Or she, as the case well might be.
And then she heard her name called, and two brawny handlers, slaves themselves, lumbering hulks of muscle and bone, dwarfing her between them, hauled her up on the platform, holding her by her arms. They had seen everything in the world, and done most that was bad in it .They had been the ones that had pulled her up from the dungeon she had spent the night in solitary confinement, groping her roughly in the dark passages, but careful not to touch her pussy, a virgin so seldom offered for sale they knew that their master would have their hide if they in any way imperiled his investment in her. And as they held her she gaped at the sea of faces in front of her, people covering the whole square, leering faces, stern faces, laughing faces, handsome faces, ugly faces , mostly male, a few females, all looking at her with undisguised lust and brute desire.
And then her owner, the slave trader, the dark saturnine man who had thoroughly and clinically felt every part of her, ascertained her virginity, fondled and molested her with all the emotion of a fishmonger with his wares, leaving her feeling not dirty, but beneath dirt,not a a victim but an object, lifted his arm, introducing her to the crowd, and crying out, without seeming to draw breath: “WHAT AM I BID FOR THIS EXQUISITE 15-YEAR OLD VIRGIN GIRL, THIS SWEET BARBARIAN FILLY ANY MAN WOULD BE PROUD TO OWN AND TAME AND TAKE INTO POSSESSION, A DELIGHTFUL, DUTIFUL, DELICIOUS PIECE, FIT FOR ANY HOUSE ON THE MERE GROUNDS OF DECORATION, BUT FIT FOR SO MUCH MORE, GOOD FOR ANYTHING, AND BY THAT I MEAN ANYTHING, GENTLEMEN, AROUND THE HOUSEHOLD!!WHAT AM I BID?WHAT AM I BID? WHAT AM I BID FOR THIS LITTLE SWEET TREASURE, THIS LITTLE TASTY MORSEL, THIS SPICY LITTLE PACKAGE I WAS TEMPTED TO KEEP FOR MYSELF, BUT OFFER TO YOU AS AN UNIQUE OFFER! WHAT AM I BID?”
And at this she lowers her head, and tries to hide her tears, and she fears they might not be hers last this day…At the edge of the crowd , close to the platform, so close he might almost look up her shift, stands a huge Mauritanian merchant, dressed in a toga, a roman citizen and he raises an ebony hand. “10 sestercies!” he says, and she looks down on him, a tall man, a heavy man, sturdy as a baobab tree, and she wonders if he is going to be her new owner, is he the one who will bring her home and spread her, and ram his black cock into her virgin cunt, is he going to be the one? Or is he simply buying merchandise, selling her in the sub-saharan countries, in Kush or Nubia, to some noble or king for his harem or his household? “15 sestercies!” she hears from off to the side, and she looks and sees a trio of germanic mercenaries, pooling their money, veterans of many battles, their bodies as scarred as their minds, used to violence and rapine, looking to buy some R&R, some little sweetheart of the garrison, a girl they can pass from bed to bed in the barracks…”20 I bid!” cries a female voice.
And almost in the middle of the crowd there is a older woman, her painted face proclaiming what she is, a madam from the waterfront at Ostia, looking for new talent for her brothel. And if the madam buys here, her virginity would be sold to the highest bidder, for the privilege of having the first night with her, and then she would be rented for the night to the officers of the ships, and later, when worn with her duties, she would be rented by the hour to the crew, and finally, when she is an old whore in her 20 ´ies, she would be good for nothing but to be tied up and lowered into the black hulls of the ship, and throughout the night satisfy whole ships lengths of galley slaves, every orifice, every part of her used. “25 sestercies” shouts an old lecher, wrinkled, bald, fat and singularly unappealing, trying to buy some young flesh to regain youth by fucking a young girl, and then to have her as a prize, to show her off and share her with fellow reprobates, to have her turn shows with male slaves bought solely for their extraordinary equipment, to perform with dogs and donkeys…
And she feels so faint, so lost, so helpless, held securely, knowing there is nothing she can do, that she sees her fate decided in front of her….But the slave trader frowns, he scowls, he shouts with a scorn heard clearly at the back of the crowd: “PITIFUL BIDS! PITIFUL! ABSOLUTELY PITIFUL! I WOULD NOT SELL A THREE LEGGED DOG FOR THAT PRICE, I WOULD NOT SELL A ONE -LEGGED DOG FOR THAT PRICE! FAR LESS THIS DELICATE, SIMPLY SCRUMPTIOUS VIRGIN, THIS HONEY ON TWO LEGS! THE BEST BED COMFORTER MONEY CAN BUY! AND YOU EXPECT TO GET HER FOR A PITTANCE LIKE THIS?” Before she is aware what he has in mind, he reach out, grasp her shift, tears it, ripping it along the seams, tearing it off her, and she screams, squirms, completely naked on a platform with hundred of men looking at her naked body, and she know that there is not a man among them who do not at that moment want to throw her down on the ground and fuck her there and then.
And she twists and turns, hard hands, strong arms holding her, trying to hide, and at the slave traders bidding a third handler comes forward, kneeling down behind her, grasping her kicking legs by the ankles, and she writhes in the grip of the three strong bullies, her body suspended between them, moving in desperation, her body like a captured eel. And as she is held like that, strong men grasping her, all of her bared, all of her exposed, feeling so vulnerable, so humiliated as never before in her life, the bidding start in earnest…
The men were grinning, three big hard men holding the wriggling naked girl between them, holding her arms and ankles, spreading her legs, her slim nubile body twisting like a fish out of water,as she hears the offers” 50 sestercies” cried the madam, her eyes cold as drowned gold coins at the bottom of the sea, her mouth working. “75!” cried the mercenaries, enflamed by the sight of her, one of them fondling himself publicly as he watches her twisting helplessly on the platform. “I bid a 100 sestercies” cried a new voice, a tall dark egyptien, his face locked in a stern expression, as he fondled his hippotatamus hide whip, sliding it slowly through his hands, obviously enjoying the touch of it, his eyes like glowing embers as he watches the girl, now giving in to the fear she had lived with since her capture, now desperately trying to escape, to run away, at least to pose a problem for her handlers.
But she does not escape, she does not run away, and the three big hard men stretch her out between them, walking in a slow circle, as she is displayed to the prospective buyers with no respect for her dignity or modesty, her bitter tears falling on the scuffed platform, as the slavetrader grasps her hair and lifts her face, so she cannot even hide her shame….”100 SESTERCIES IS BID!” he cries, and harangues the crowd, who takes it in good humour, laughing at his jokes: “100 SESTERCIES! 100 SESTERCIES! IS THAT ALL I AM BID? IT WOULD BE A GOOD PRICE FOR A ONE LEGGED, BLIND MESSENGER SLAVE WITH PILES! BUT FOR THIS SWEET, EXQUISITE DELIGHT, THIS LITTLE CHERRY TO BE PICKED AND EATEN AND SWALLOWED AND ENJOYED…..I ASK YOU, GENTLEMEN, ARE YOU ALL MEN WHO PREFER BEARDLESS YOUTHS LOITERING AROUND THE BATHS HERE, SINCE YOU CANNOT COME UP WITH A DECENT BID?”
And then, and only then, she becomes aware of the disturbance.. At first a mere change in the constant murmur, like a differing accent joining in the conversation, but then she hears the noise rising, the sound of trumpets, the rippling thunder of marching feet, voices raised in argument, in orders, in shouts of dismay.
And like a ship cleaving the waves a covered palanquin, carried by eight big nubians, is carried into the square, surrounded by troops, proceeded by trumpeters, forcing its way through the crowd with no unnecessary kindness, more like an invading army than a friendly visit. And she hears the voices, from the brutes holding her, from the slack mouth of the slave trader, from the crowd close to the platform, speaking in fear, in loathing, in envy, in worship, in wonder: “The emperor? The emperor! The emperor….”And she remembers what they say, what she has overheard, of the gossip even the lowest of slaves hear: “He is mad, he is bad, he is dangerous to know, he worships dark gods, he believes he is a god, he is a dark and evil god, he has wild, depraved and pervert orgies in the palace…”and she shivers at being so close to him, to be within reach of what must be a slavering beast in human flesh if half of what she has heard is within hailing distance of the truth. And the covers of the palanquin part, and a slim, pale hand beckons, and the slave trader runs down and prostrates himself, the body guards of the emperor frisking him, and giving him a kick in the face on general principles for treating civilians. And from behind the covers the emperor asks: “What is bid for that naked girl, wriggling so enticingly on the platform…?”
“150 sestercies, your divine majesty” the slavetrader says, quietly and humbly upping the price 50 %.. There is a pause, and it lasts.Then the emperor asks: “How old is she? Is she a virgin?” “She is 15, your divine, august majesty, and a virgin. Most assuredly a virgin. I sell only the best of merchandise!” A pause. A long pause, and in the presence of the emperor and his bodyguards, any pause is too long a pause.” I bid 300 sestercies” says the emperor “Does anyone bid against me?”No one in square felt suicidal enough to move a finger. “SOLD!” said the slavetrader “SOLD TO HIS DIVINITY, THE AUGUST BENEVOLENT IMPERIAL MAJESTY! And the slim hand reach out again, and point at the girl: “Tonight We are having a small garden party, and We thought the forcible defloration of a virgin might make for some light entertainment.
Bring the girl to the palace, and don´t bother to put on those rags again, have her bathed, perfumed, do something with that hair, get her dressed for her task and her fate, and bring her to the garden at dusk. Chop, chop, somebody, get going, you don´t want to get me mad, do you?”
And she is passed from the handlers on the platform to the strong iron hands of imperial soldiers, walking her quickly naked through the streets of Rome, every man, every youth, every boy with his voice cracking calling out what he would like to do to her, with her, for her……But she is held at arms length, the soldiers suffering no interruption, no impingement on the piece of imperial property she has become. And in the eyes of these men, of men who have seen cities burning, tribes slaughtered, men, women and children killed in brutal border wars, who have taken part in the worst of atrocities during civil wars, rapists, killers all, they look at her, their charge, and she can see the pity in their eyes. For they know what the emperor likes for his amusement… And at the palace she sees the pity again, in the eyes of the slave girls bathing her, lathering her with natural sponges and scented soaps , running their hands all over her, cleaning her body so exquisitely, so intimately she have never experienced anything like it before, so soft, so tingling, so disquietingly strange, but in their eyes she sees a pity , a fear so strong they seem on the verge of tears the whole while, so sad as they look at and feel her brittle innocent beauty. And she sees the pity in the eyes of the girl brushing her hair, cleaning it, setting it up as if she was a lady at the court. And she sees her face reflected in the features of the girl brushing her hair, beautiful, attractive, everywhere but in her broken, sad eyes.
And she sees the pity in the eyes of the tall, bony seamstress dressing her in translucent linen, her guard watching her the whole while, at every intimate moment of cleaning, of preparing. And she feels the soft, light cloth caressing the naked body underneath, her body clean for once, the soles of her bare feel cold on the marble as she is rushed through the large sprawling palace by her guards.And suddenly she is out of the place,in a pleasant, green garden, flowers and braziers lit with aromatic woods scenting the air, and a company of men and woman lies around on benches, the emperor´s cronies and parasites, freed slaves and senators, depraved youths and old lechers, kinky whores and nymphomaniac noble ladies, drinking ,talking, slightly tipsy, their minds set on the evenings pleasures of all and any kind. And on a marble throne, in the middle of it all, sits a non-descript, slightly puffy faced man, laurel wreath at an angle on his brow, his toga striped with imperial purple and spotted with falernian wine, and he lifts his head, and look at the girl, and his eyes are like reptiles stirring, they have the dull golden madness of the male lion, and the brazier’s fire is reflected in the unholy fires bleeding from them like venom from from a vipers fangs. And the emperor smiles, and claps his hand: “She is here! The new talent! Our entertainment!Look sharp, everybody, the evenings little clou is here.”
And he looks her deep into her eyes, and whisper for her ears only: “And do We have ideas for you, little one……!”The emperor claps his hands: “Put her in the stocks!” he cries. And now she sees the stocks, black, set on a low pole, and behind them a horizontal bar on two, all poles set deep in the ground. And she is bent over the horizontal bar, keeping her hips up, as her wrists and neck is placed in the stocks, and they are shut and closed, and as she kicks out at the guards, not thinking clearly, just reacting to the fears shivering through her, the emperor gives a new command, and plugs are pounded into the soil, and her legs spread and her ankles tied to the plugs, keeping her immobile, helpless, totally at the disposal of the emperor and his party, now growing rowdier as the wine flows. The emperor strokes her flanks, her shoulders, now her hips, he put his hands through the openings in the gown for her arms and absentmindedly fondles her breasts, weighing them in his palms, now twirling her nipples roughly, now pulping them, as he speaks: “Ladies and gentlemen, and all the rest of you as well, my friends, lend me your ears…I know you are men and women, or at least creatures, of wit and imagination.
Now we have the honour and pleasure of having with us today a young, 17 year old virgin, unkissed, unfamiliar with love, a quivering, expectant virgin. She is with us, and we have in our power to make her first lovemaking, her first real experience of sex, her first fuck, something special, something she will remember forever.” He pauses, and she feels him remove his mauling hands from her breasts, grasping the hem of her gown, lifting it, pulling it upwards, baring her thighs…” So I pose you a contest, dear friends..”He pulls the material in her gown from between her hips and the bar she is bent forward over, baring her hips, her hard buttocks, standing behind her as she are naked below the waist, exposed, as he pulls the gown upwards, as she squirms in the stocks, helpless to resist…”Whoever can devise the nastiest and most humiliating way in which this young girl can experience her first sexual experience, her first fuck, does not only get second turn on her sweet, delicate body after whatever monstrosity she has undergone, but also a purse of 1000 sestercies….So let me hear your proposals, dear friends!” As she listens in disbelief to his outrageous proposals, he pulls her gown all the way up, baring her breasts, draping the gown over the stocks, she held so securely, so undignified, as she feels his hand now slowly seeking out the soft treasures between her naked, exposed, untouched thighs, stroking her, fondling her, molesting her…
And from the unruly, rowdy crowd, their imagination inflamed by their debauched lives and the huge price, the suggestions start to flow: “Let her be brutally taken by two slavegirls” proposes one, a slack faced degenerate upper class youth with the eyes of an old man “An african and a germanic slave, an african woman with hard strong hips and big breasts, black as a hot night, and a tall, rangy germanic slavegirl, almost flat, so pale her skin is darker than her blonde hair, and let the dark girl wear an ivory strap on dildoe, as thick as her fist, and fuck the girl in her virgin cunt, and let the blonde girl put on an ebony strap on dildoe, as thick as her wrist, and fuck the girl her virgin ass, so we can enjoy a wide rang
e of shades of pulchritude in an introduction to carnal delight the poor girl most assuredly never will forget” At this an elderly senator frowns: “The simplemindedness of youth one can bear, but their lack of aesthetic appreciation is a daily source of irritation. This pimple faced boy does not understand the first and simple principle that to really appreciate beauty, you must see its opposite. So I propose as the first male to take and use and abuse your slave girl none other than the slave that tends your garden, the hunchbacked, retarded, warty, hairy, wrinkled monster that drools and mumbles if you address him. Let him take her while we all watch. I saw him bathing in the river once, and nature has compensated him for all his other lacking qualities with the cock she gave him.To see him wreak his mindless lust on her sweet, helpless, beautiful body would most assuredly be a singular occurrence, because the contrast between them would be so evident, and a kinky experience none of us would see again.”
From a woman in the crowd there come a protest: “Men! Typically men! A complete lack of respect for women and their bodies and their lusts. No, what she would need, and what would be the best for us as an audience as well, would be….the eight nubians that carry your palanquin let loose on her, They are big, black men, strongly built, starved of sex, brutal and hard, and give the women among us, and also the men who appreciate prime male flesh, something to look at as well. And if seeing eight big black men taking their turn raping an helpless 15 year old white virgin, one by one or more at once, is not good entertainment, I ask you, what is good entertainment?”
At this a middle aged man man shakes his head: “Slaves! She is to good for slaves! Let her be taken by soldiers instead! They have surprisingly inventive minds for plebeians, I can assure you. And the stories they tell…
And then she heard her name called, and two brawny handlers, slaves themselves, lumbering hulks of muscle and bone, dwarfing her between them, hauled her up on the platform, holding her by her arms. They had seen everything in the world, and done most that was bad in it .They had been the ones that had pulled her up from the dungeon she had spent the night in solitary confinement, groping her roughly in the dark passages, but careful not to touch her pussy, a virgin so seldom offered for sale they knew that their master would have their hide if they in any way imperiled his investment in her. And as they held her she gaped at the sea of faces in front of her, people covering the whole square, leering faces, stern faces, laughing faces, handsome faces, ugly faces , mostly male, a few females, all looking at her with undisguised lust and brute desire.
And then her owner, the slave trader, the dark saturnine man who had thoroughly and clinically felt every part of her, ascertained her virginity, fondled and molested her with all the emotion of a fishmonger with his wares, leaving her feeling not dirty, but beneath dirt,not a a victim but an object, lifted his arm, introducing her to the crowd, and crying out, without seeming to draw breath: “WHAT AM I BID FOR THIS EXQUISITE 15-YEAR OLD VIRGIN GIRL, THIS SWEET BARBARIAN FILLY ANY MAN WOULD BE PROUD TO OWN AND TAME AND TAKE INTO POSSESSION, A DELIGHTFUL, DUTIFUL, DELICIOUS PIECE, FIT FOR ANY HOUSE ON THE MERE GROUNDS OF DECORATION, BUT FIT FOR SO MUCH MORE, GOOD FOR ANYTHING, AND BY THAT I MEAN ANYTHING, GENTLEMEN, AROUND THE HOUSEHOLD!!WHAT AM I BID?WHAT AM I BID? WHAT AM I BID FOR THIS LITTLE SWEET TREASURE, THIS LITTLE TASTY MORSEL, THIS SPICY LITTLE PACKAGE I WAS TEMPTED TO KEEP FOR MYSELF, BUT OFFER TO YOU AS AN UNIQUE OFFER! WHAT AM I BID?”
And at this she lowers her head, and tries to hide her tears, and she fears they might not be hers last this day…At the edge of the crowd , close to the platform, so close he might almost look up her shift, stands a huge Mauritanian merchant, dressed in a toga, a roman citizen and he raises an ebony hand. “10 sestercies!” he says, and she looks down on him, a tall man, a heavy man, sturdy as a baobab tree, and she wonders if he is going to be her new owner, is he the one who will bring her home and spread her, and ram his black cock into her virgin cunt, is he going to be the one? Or is he simply buying merchandise, selling her in the sub-saharan countries, in Kush or Nubia, to some noble or king for his harem or his household? “15 sestercies!” she hears from off to the side, and she looks and sees a trio of germanic mercenaries, pooling their money, veterans of many battles, their bodies as scarred as their minds, used to violence and rapine, looking to buy some R&R, some little sweetheart of the garrison, a girl they can pass from bed to bed in the barracks…”20 I bid!” cries a female voice.
And almost in the middle of the crowd there is a older woman, her painted face proclaiming what she is, a madam from the waterfront at Ostia, looking for new talent for her brothel. And if the madam buys here, her virginity would be sold to the highest bidder, for the privilege of having the first night with her, and then she would be rented for the night to the officers of the ships, and later, when worn with her duties, she would be rented by the hour to the crew, and finally, when she is an old whore in her 20 ´ies, she would be good for nothing but to be tied up and lowered into the black hulls of the ship, and throughout the night satisfy whole ships lengths of galley slaves, every orifice, every part of her used. “25 sestercies” shouts an old lecher, wrinkled, bald, fat and singularly unappealing, trying to buy some young flesh to regain youth by fucking a young girl, and then to have her as a prize, to show her off and share her with fellow reprobates, to have her turn shows with male slaves bought solely for their extraordinary equipment, to perform with dogs and donkeys…
And she feels so faint, so lost, so helpless, held securely, knowing there is nothing she can do, that she sees her fate decided in front of her….But the slave trader frowns, he scowls, he shouts with a scorn heard clearly at the back of the crowd: “PITIFUL BIDS! PITIFUL! ABSOLUTELY PITIFUL! I WOULD NOT SELL A THREE LEGGED DOG FOR THAT PRICE, I WOULD NOT SELL A ONE -LEGGED DOG FOR THAT PRICE! FAR LESS THIS DELICATE, SIMPLY SCRUMPTIOUS VIRGIN, THIS HONEY ON TWO LEGS! THE BEST BED COMFORTER MONEY CAN BUY! AND YOU EXPECT TO GET HER FOR A PITTANCE LIKE THIS?” Before she is aware what he has in mind, he reach out, grasp her shift, tears it, ripping it along the seams, tearing it off her, and she screams, squirms, completely naked on a platform with hundred of men looking at her naked body, and she know that there is not a man among them who do not at that moment want to throw her down on the ground and fuck her there and then.
And she twists and turns, hard hands, strong arms holding her, trying to hide, and at the slave traders bidding a third handler comes forward, kneeling down behind her, grasping her kicking legs by the ankles, and she writhes in the grip of the three strong bullies, her body suspended between them, moving in desperation, her body like a captured eel. And as she is held like that, strong men grasping her, all of her bared, all of her exposed, feeling so vulnerable, so humiliated as never before in her life, the bidding start in earnest…
The men were grinning, three big hard men holding the wriggling naked girl between them, holding her arms and ankles, spreading her legs, her slim nubile body twisting like a fish out of water,as she hears the offers” 50 sestercies” cried the madam, her eyes cold as drowned gold coins at the bottom of the sea, her mouth working. “75!” cried the mercenaries, enflamed by the sight of her, one of them fondling himself publicly as he watches her twisting helplessly on the platform. “I bid a 100 sestercies” cried a new voice, a tall dark egyptien, his face locked in a stern expression, as he fondled his hippotatamus hide whip, sliding it slowly through his hands, obviously enjoying the touch of it, his eyes like glowing embers as he watches the girl, now giving in to the fear she had lived with since her capture, now desperately trying to escape, to run away, at least to pose a problem for her handlers.
But she does not escape, she does not run away, and the three big hard men stretch her out between them, walking in a slow circle, as she is displayed to the prospective buyers with no respect for her dignity or modesty, her bitter tears falling on the scuffed platform, as the slavetrader grasps her hair and lifts her face, so she cannot even hide her shame….”100 SESTERCIES IS BID!” he cries, and harangues the crowd, who takes it in good humour, laughing at his jokes: “100 SESTERCIES! 100 SESTERCIES! IS THAT ALL I AM BID? IT WOULD BE A GOOD PRICE FOR A ONE LEGGED, BLIND MESSENGER SLAVE WITH PILES! BUT FOR THIS SWEET, EXQUISITE DELIGHT, THIS LITTLE CHERRY TO BE PICKED AND EATEN AND SWALLOWED AND ENJOYED…..I ASK YOU, GENTLEMEN, ARE YOU ALL MEN WHO PREFER BEARDLESS YOUTHS LOITERING AROUND THE BATHS HERE, SINCE YOU CANNOT COME UP WITH A DECENT BID?”
And then, and only then, she becomes aware of the disturbance.. At first a mere change in the constant murmur, like a differing accent joining in the conversation, but then she hears the noise rising, the sound of trumpets, the rippling thunder of marching feet, voices raised in argument, in orders, in shouts of dismay.
And like a ship cleaving the waves a covered palanquin, carried by eight big nubians, is carried into the square, surrounded by troops, proceeded by trumpeters, forcing its way through the crowd with no unnecessary kindness, more like an invading army than a friendly visit. And she hears the voices, from the brutes holding her, from the slack mouth of the slave trader, from the crowd close to the platform, speaking in fear, in loathing, in envy, in worship, in wonder: “The emperor? The emperor! The emperor….”And she remembers what they say, what she has overheard, of the gossip even the lowest of slaves hear: “He is mad, he is bad, he is dangerous to know, he worships dark gods, he believes he is a god, he is a dark and evil god, he has wild, depraved and pervert orgies in the palace…”and she shivers at being so close to him, to be within reach of what must be a slavering beast in human flesh if half of what she has heard is within hailing distance of the truth. And the covers of the palanquin part, and a slim, pale hand beckons, and the slave trader runs down and prostrates himself, the body guards of the emperor frisking him, and giving him a kick in the face on general principles for treating civilians. And from behind the covers the emperor asks: “What is bid for that naked girl, wriggling so enticingly on the platform…?”
“150 sestercies, your divine majesty” the slavetrader says, quietly and humbly upping the price 50 %.. There is a pause, and it lasts.Then the emperor asks: “How old is she? Is she a virgin?” “She is 15, your divine, august majesty, and a virgin. Most assuredly a virgin. I sell only the best of merchandise!” A pause. A long pause, and in the presence of the emperor and his bodyguards, any pause is too long a pause.” I bid 300 sestercies” says the emperor “Does anyone bid against me?”No one in square felt suicidal enough to move a finger. “SOLD!” said the slavetrader “SOLD TO HIS DIVINITY, THE AUGUST BENEVOLENT IMPERIAL MAJESTY! And the slim hand reach out again, and point at the girl: “Tonight We are having a small garden party, and We thought the forcible defloration of a virgin might make for some light entertainment.
Bring the girl to the palace, and don´t bother to put on those rags again, have her bathed, perfumed, do something with that hair, get her dressed for her task and her fate, and bring her to the garden at dusk. Chop, chop, somebody, get going, you don´t want to get me mad, do you?”
And she is passed from the handlers on the platform to the strong iron hands of imperial soldiers, walking her quickly naked through the streets of Rome, every man, every youth, every boy with his voice cracking calling out what he would like to do to her, with her, for her……But she is held at arms length, the soldiers suffering no interruption, no impingement on the piece of imperial property she has become. And in the eyes of these men, of men who have seen cities burning, tribes slaughtered, men, women and children killed in brutal border wars, who have taken part in the worst of atrocities during civil wars, rapists, killers all, they look at her, their charge, and she can see the pity in their eyes. For they know what the emperor likes for his amusement… And at the palace she sees the pity again, in the eyes of the slave girls bathing her, lathering her with natural sponges and scented soaps , running their hands all over her, cleaning her body so exquisitely, so intimately she have never experienced anything like it before, so soft, so tingling, so disquietingly strange, but in their eyes she sees a pity , a fear so strong they seem on the verge of tears the whole while, so sad as they look at and feel her brittle innocent beauty. And she sees the pity in the eyes of the girl brushing her hair, cleaning it, setting it up as if she was a lady at the court. And she sees her face reflected in the features of the girl brushing her hair, beautiful, attractive, everywhere but in her broken, sad eyes.
And she sees the pity in the eyes of the tall, bony seamstress dressing her in translucent linen, her guard watching her the whole while, at every intimate moment of cleaning, of preparing. And she feels the soft, light cloth caressing the naked body underneath, her body clean for once, the soles of her bare feel cold on the marble as she is rushed through the large sprawling palace by her guards.And suddenly she is out of the place,in a pleasant, green garden, flowers and braziers lit with aromatic woods scenting the air, and a company of men and woman lies around on benches, the emperor´s cronies and parasites, freed slaves and senators, depraved youths and old lechers, kinky whores and nymphomaniac noble ladies, drinking ,talking, slightly tipsy, their minds set on the evenings pleasures of all and any kind. And on a marble throne, in the middle of it all, sits a non-descript, slightly puffy faced man, laurel wreath at an angle on his brow, his toga striped with imperial purple and spotted with falernian wine, and he lifts his head, and look at the girl, and his eyes are like reptiles stirring, they have the dull golden madness of the male lion, and the brazier’s fire is reflected in the unholy fires bleeding from them like venom from from a vipers fangs. And the emperor smiles, and claps his hand: “She is here! The new talent! Our entertainment!Look sharp, everybody, the evenings little clou is here.”
And he looks her deep into her eyes, and whisper for her ears only: “And do We have ideas for you, little one……!”The emperor claps his hands: “Put her in the stocks!” he cries. And now she sees the stocks, black, set on a low pole, and behind them a horizontal bar on two, all poles set deep in the ground. And she is bent over the horizontal bar, keeping her hips up, as her wrists and neck is placed in the stocks, and they are shut and closed, and as she kicks out at the guards, not thinking clearly, just reacting to the fears shivering through her, the emperor gives a new command, and plugs are pounded into the soil, and her legs spread and her ankles tied to the plugs, keeping her immobile, helpless, totally at the disposal of the emperor and his party, now growing rowdier as the wine flows. The emperor strokes her flanks, her shoulders, now her hips, he put his hands through the openings in the gown for her arms and absentmindedly fondles her breasts, weighing them in his palms, now twirling her nipples roughly, now pulping them, as he speaks: “Ladies and gentlemen, and all the rest of you as well, my friends, lend me your ears…I know you are men and women, or at least creatures, of wit and imagination.
Now we have the honour and pleasure of having with us today a young, 17 year old virgin, unkissed, unfamiliar with love, a quivering, expectant virgin. She is with us, and we have in our power to make her first lovemaking, her first real experience of sex, her first fuck, something special, something she will remember forever.” He pauses, and she feels him remove his mauling hands from her breasts, grasping the hem of her gown, lifting it, pulling it upwards, baring her thighs…” So I pose you a contest, dear friends..”He pulls the material in her gown from between her hips and the bar she is bent forward over, baring her hips, her hard buttocks, standing behind her as she are naked below the waist, exposed, as he pulls the gown upwards, as she squirms in the stocks, helpless to resist…”Whoever can devise the nastiest and most humiliating way in which this young girl can experience her first sexual experience, her first fuck, does not only get second turn on her sweet, delicate body after whatever monstrosity she has undergone, but also a purse of 1000 sestercies….So let me hear your proposals, dear friends!” As she listens in disbelief to his outrageous proposals, he pulls her gown all the way up, baring her breasts, draping the gown over the stocks, she held so securely, so undignified, as she feels his hand now slowly seeking out the soft treasures between her naked, exposed, untouched thighs, stroking her, fondling her, molesting her…
And from the unruly, rowdy crowd, their imagination inflamed by their debauched lives and the huge price, the suggestions start to flow: “Let her be brutally taken by two slavegirls” proposes one, a slack faced degenerate upper class youth with the eyes of an old man “An african and a germanic slave, an african woman with hard strong hips and big breasts, black as a hot night, and a tall, rangy germanic slavegirl, almost flat, so pale her skin is darker than her blonde hair, and let the dark girl wear an ivory strap on dildoe, as thick as her fist, and fuck the girl in her virgin cunt, and let the blonde girl put on an ebony strap on dildoe, as thick as her wrist, and fuck the girl her virgin ass, so we can enjoy a wide rang
e of shades of pulchritude in an introduction to carnal delight the poor girl most assuredly never will forget” At this an elderly senator frowns: “The simplemindedness of youth one can bear, but their lack of aesthetic appreciation is a daily source of irritation. This pimple faced boy does not understand the first and simple principle that to really appreciate beauty, you must see its opposite. So I propose as the first male to take and use and abuse your slave girl none other than the slave that tends your garden, the hunchbacked, retarded, warty, hairy, wrinkled monster that drools and mumbles if you address him. Let him take her while we all watch. I saw him bathing in the river once, and nature has compensated him for all his other lacking qualities with the cock she gave him.To see him wreak his mindless lust on her sweet, helpless, beautiful body would most assuredly be a singular occurrence, because the contrast between them would be so evident, and a kinky experience none of us would see again.”
From a woman in the crowd there come a protest: “Men! Typically men! A complete lack of respect for women and their bodies and their lusts. No, what she would need, and what would be the best for us as an audience as well, would be….the eight nubians that carry your palanquin let loose on her, They are big, black men, strongly built, starved of sex, brutal and hard, and give the women among us, and also the men who appreciate prime male flesh, something to look at as well. And if seeing eight big black men taking their turn raping an helpless 15 year old white virgin, one by one or more at once, is not good entertainment, I ask you, what is good entertainment?”
At this a middle aged man man shakes his head: “Slaves! She is to good for slaves! Let her be taken by soldiers instead! They have surprisingly inventive minds for plebeians, I can assure you. And the stories they tell…
