A captured girl from Northern Europe adjusts to her new life as the slave of a wealthy family in Ancient Rome.
The galley stank of sweat and piss and shit and vomit. Most of the girls had never been on the sea before. They spent the voyage throwing up and sobbing. We were crammed below deck in a space too small to stand in and too crowded to move around in. At first, when we needed to relieve ourselves, we warned the other girls. Later, we just let it happen. The stench was in our noses and throats for the whole journey. As we approached the port of Ostia, the slavers herded us onto the deck, threw pails of water over us, and told us to wash ourselves. Then they marched us onshore.
The Romans were gathered on the dock. They directed searching looks at us as we were lined up in front of them. Maybe some of them were looking for sturdy stock to perform household chores, but the girls who were shapely and had pretty faces got most of the attention. That included me. I’d been popular with the boys and men at home, but here I was exotic too, because I was the only one with fair hair. The Roman men, and some of the women, crowded around me, murmuring and stroking my blond locks. A few men took the liberty of cupping and squeezing my breasts, and one inserted a finger into me, no doubt to see if I was virgo intacta. When he met no resistance, he muttered “puta” and moved on to the next girl.
The bidding started at 200 denarii. The first girl was sold for 500, a price that drew appreciative murmurs from a gathering crowd of spectators. Others went for less. A dark beauty from Iberia attracted two competing bidders and eventually sold for 950. Then it was my turn. A swarthy man in a red tunic immediately offered 1000, drawing gasps from the crowd. A woman wearing a lot of jewelry tugged the arm of the man beside her, and he bid 1100. The man in red bid 1200, the other bid 1300, and so it went till they reached 1600. Then a third man stepped forward, raised his hand and offered 2000. The crowd was stunned into silence. The other two bidders shook their heads, and there was a burst of applause. I was sold, and given an early idea of my value in the capital.
My new owner was a well-dressed man with a noble face who looked about 55 or 60. His servant bustled me into a kind of wooden cage on the back of a cart and we started for Rome. As we jolted along, I could hear the servant and master talking about me. I had learned basic Latin from my father because he believed the Romans had come to our country to stay. I caught the words “pulchra” (beautiful) and “formosa” (shapely), but I also heard “domina” (mistress) and “irata” (angry). That was enough for me to guess that life might be complicated in my new home. But when we arrived, the mistress looked me over and smiled, appearing pleased with her husband’s purchase. “Speciosa,” she said, which I later discovered means splendid.
Their home was enormous, sprawling and multi-leveled, with frescoes and sculptures, courtyards, pools and fountains. It would have been impossible for me to imagine such a place before coming to Rome, and even then, I struggled to comprehend it. This family lived in a kind of luxury that was unknown in my country, even for Romans.
I was put in the hands of an older woman whose job was to make me more presentable. “What a gorgeous thing you are,” she said as she fitted me with a more flattering tunic. “I wonder what they’ll call you.”
“My name is Gunhild,” I told her.
“You understand Latin?” she asked, surprised.
“My father taught me.”
“And what was that name? Gund-rid?” She struggled to make the sounds.
“Gunhild.”
She shook her head. “They’ll give you a much nicer name. Probably something Greek, since the master is so learned.”
She braided my hair and wound it in a bun. “A shame to hide it,” she said, “but you mustn’t outshine the young mistress.”
I wondered if she was thinking of the mistress I’d already met. She had looked about 45, which wasn’t young, to my mind. But soon I discovered that there was a younger mistress, her daughter, Julia. The girl, around my age, was with her parents and her younger brother when I was presented to them. The master and mistress nodded their approval of my grooming. The son and daughter both smiled at the sight of me.
“Very good,” said the master. “We’ll call her Kallista.”
Then I was led away to my quarters. I was to share them with two older slaves called Felicia and Fortunata, who slept in one bed, and a dusky Sicilian girl, who was to be my bedfellow. From the moment I saw her, I liked her. She had a sweet warmth that was impossible not to love.
She asked me what name the masters had given me. I told her.
“Ah, it’s Greek for most beautiful.”
Like many Sicilians, she had grown up speaking Greek.
“And what do they call you?” I asked.
“Zoe. It means life.” She smiled.
The name suited her. I returned her smile, and when our eyes met, I knew we would be close.
To my relief, I was happy. Approved by my owners, delighted by my bedfellow. My first day of slavery was turning out well.
We settled down for the night in our shared beds. Before long, I heard heavy breathing coming from Felicia and Fortunata’s bed. I noticed that it didn’t sound like the deep breathing of sleep but like the slow panting of excitement gradually building. I could hardly believe my ears. Then Zoe confirmed my suspicions by putting her head next to mine and giggling quietly. I started giggling too, as silently as I could, and we held onto each other as we tried not to make our mirth too obvious. We got ourselves under control and lay close together. I felt so comfortable near her, I didn’t want to move away. I snuggled against her soft body as she held me from behind. I could feel her warm breath on my neck and the gentle touch of her hand lying near one of my breasts. I waited a while, then took her hand and placed it squarely on my breast. She raised her head for a moment, realizing what this meant, then settled back down. Slowly, she began to massage my breast. I responded by pressing myself against her. After a while she slid her hand down and stroked my belly. I sighed as she trailed her fingertips through my pubic hair and lightly brushed them over my labia. Then I shuddered with pleasure as she gently parted the labia and slid one fingertip onto my clitoris.
Suddenly, the door to our room opened, light flooded in, and a man stood in the doorway.
“Zoe!” he shouted.
She disentangled herself from me and sat upright.
“Get up!” he commanded.
As Zoe climbed out of bed and stood before him, the man pulled off his tunic to reveal a muscular body and a swelling cock. He put a hand on Zoe’s head and pressed her down in front of him. She went down on her knees, and soon her dark head was bobbing up and down as she obediently fellated him. In the half light, his cock looked like a big mouthful.
After a while, he held her head still. “Enough,” he said. Then he turned her around, bent her over the bed, and entered her forcefully from behind. She gasped repeatedly as he fucked her brutally, pulling her hair and pumping her hard. As she fell forward on the bed, I moved a little to get out of the way, and the man noticed.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
“Kallista,” Zoe panted. “She’s new.”
He stopped drilling her and pulled the sheets back to look at me. He liked what he saw. Grabbing my ankle, he dragged me to the edge of the bed, turned me around and bent me over in the same position as Zoe, right beside her. A moment later I felt his meaty cock entering me from behind. I gasped as he thrust it hard into me. He put one hand on the back of my head, pushed my face into the mattress and held me down while he fucked me hard and fast. I had never felt so used and so turned on at the same time. My pleasure was building intensely when he suddenly pulled out, pushed me aside, and re-entered Zoe, who had waited patiently while he fucked me. He thrust his cock into her as viciously as before and quickly built his rhythm, grunting through clenched teeth. Finally, he groaned aloud as he pumped his semen into her.
As soon as he finished, he stood up, turned to the other bed and ordered Fortunata to get up and serve him some wine. So poor Fortunata had to abandon her lovemaking with Felicia and serve her master.
But who was he? I asked Zoe as we climbed back into bed and she wiped the leaking semen from between her legs.
“Drusus, the young master,” she said. “He’s the master’s son from his first marriage.”
“Is he always like that? So brutal?”
“Yes, most of the time.”
“And, does he always ejaculate in you?”
“Usually, yes.”
“What if he gets you pregnant?”
“Then I will have a baby,” she said simply.
“But, would he raise it? I mean, as his own?”
“Oh no,” she shook her head. “I would raise it and it would be a slave, like us. Only his wife’s children will be part of his family.”
“He’s married?”
“Yes, his wife is in confinement now, expecting her child.”
“So he takes out his frustrations on you.”
“Yes, but he’s always done that. I think maybe she doesn’t satisfy him.”
“Or she doesn’t like what he does to her.”
“Maybe.”
Although Zoe said these things simply and seemed to accept them, they were new to me, and I hugged her out of sympathy.
We settled down again. My head was spinning and I didn’t think Zoe and I would take up where we had left off earlier, but the truth was, I was still turned on. I kept reliving the sight of Zoe’s head bobbing up and down on the young master’s cock and the feeling of his hand on the back of my head, forcefully holding me down and using me. I was wet and frustrated, and I couldn’t stop thinking of those moments. I moved my hand quietly down to my vulva and began to massage myself. I didn’t think it would take me long to get relief.
Zoe heard my movements and knew straight away what I was doing. She reached down, placed her hand on mine and picked up my rhythm.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I got so turned on.”
“It’s alright,” she said, as she massaged my clitoris. After a while she paused, slipped one of her legs between mine, and placed her thigh against my vulva. Laying her body alongside mine, she moved her hand to my breasts and began to massage them. Gliding her tongue over them, she licked them and sucked my nipples. Then she raised her head to mine so I could see her pretty face and moist lips. Our mouths locked in a passionate kiss as we pressed our bodies together, our breasts cushioning each other. It felt heavenly. Our legs were wrapped together and our clitorises rubbed and slipped on each other’s thighs. We moved in a soft, steady rhythm, and it wasn’t long before I felt myself spasming. I quivered as my orgasm took hold of me. A moment later, Zoe clasped me tight and started shuddering. With her mouth next to my ear, she let out a series of intense, breathy groans, as though she was experiencing a long-awaited release. I found out later that she never climaxed with the young master, who was always focused on his own pleasure. When her panting died down, we composed ourselves for sleep and spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms.
Most of the work was drudgery. However much they admired my beauty, it didn’t stop the family, or their servants, giving me menial tasks that were repetitive, exhausting, and sometimes disgusting. I washed clothes, scrubbed floors, cleaned out bathrooms and latrines, and occasionally waited on the masters and mistresses at their meals. That was by far the most pleasant part of my day, when it happened. Firstly, it required me to wash, and the baths were a luxury in themselves. Then I was dressed and groomed and made up by one of the older women, who usually had pretty tunics on hand for younger slave girls to wear. Occasionally, I was allowed to wear my hair down, since the masters and mistresses admired it so. I was well-behaved and I took pleasure in serving them the rich, exotic foods and wines that they banqueted on so sumptuously. I was always noticed when I served them, and I became accustomed to hearing the family remark on my enchanting appearance and pleasing demeanor.
“It’s a shame she has no talents,” the mistress remarked of me one day. “She would be a delight to watch performing – dancing or singing.”
“Maybe she has hidden talents,” said Julia, the young mistress. “We could find out, or at least see more of her, if she was one of my maids.”
Her mother scoffed. “Too soon, darling. I’m sure she’s still a barbarian under that charming exterior.”
“But my Phoebe is to be the new baby’s wet nurse, so I will need someone new,” Julia argued. “And she is exquisite, isn’t she?”
Her mother looked away and said nothing, so the young mistress turned to her father.
“Pater?”
He had been following the conversation surreptitiously. He looked over at me. “Perhaps. Yes, perhaps we could try her. She seems well mannered enough. And she is a delight to look upon.”
Julia jumped up and hugged her father. “Oh Papa! Thank you! She’ll do well. You’ll see!”
The mistress gave the master a look of disappointment.
“But not till the baby is born and Phoebe goes to Livia,” he told his daughter.
“Yes, Papa.”
So my fate was decided, and I had to prepare to be parted from my beloved Zoe. Personal maids need to be on call at all times, so I would soon be sleeping in Julia’s quarters. I’d had Zoe all to myself for a couple of weeks because Drusus, the young master, had been away at the family’s country estate. Since the night when he fucked the two of us, I’d had only one encounter with him, but it was a memorable one. I was swabbing the floor in his quarters when he arrived unexpectedly with two of his friends. Because I was alone, I had removed my tunic to keep it dry, and I was working on the wet floor in just my subligar (loincloth) and strophium (breastband). Hearing the men’s voices in the entranceway, I froze, then quickly reached for my tunic. When they saw me, I held the tunic up, trying to cover myself. Drusus stepped forward.
“Don’t be shy,” he said coaxingly, as he reached for the tunic and pulled it away. “Show my friends what you look like.”
“Oh, what a beauty…” one of the men said. Then he moved towards me and made a twirling motion with his finger, indicating that I should turn around. When my back was turned to him, he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder and loosened the tie of my breastband, pulling it away so that it fell to the floor.
“Keep turning,” he said calmly.
I completed the circle to face him with my breasts in full view. I sometimes wondered if the compliments I received exaggerated my attractiveness, but my breasts were one part of my body that brought me real pride. My friends at home had been jealous of them and I’d come to realize that, by our standards, they were pretty nearly perfect, having the ideal blend of weighty fullness and softness, set off by pleasingly upturned nipples. Drusus’s friend seemed to think so too. He reached for them and tested their firmness, then turned to Drusus.
“May I?” he asked respectfully.
“Of course, Marcellus. You’re my guest. What’s mine is yours.”
Marcellus led me to a couch, where he sat me down and stood in front of me. He raised his tunic to reveal a sizeable and rapidly swelling cock. I assumed he wanted me to fellate him, so I leaned forward and took his impressive member in my mouth. It quickly swelled to a size that was difficult to manage, but I persisted, taking it as deep as I could. Then he coaxed me up onto my knees so my breasts were level with his erection. He stepped forward and placed it between my breasts, pressing them together. Cradling the breasts in his hands, he began to slide his cock up and down between them. I looked down to see his swollen knob repeatedly disappearing and reappearing through my cleavage. His motion became more rapid and his breath became shorter. He gripped my breasts more tightly and thrust harder. Eventually, he grunted and groaned as hot semen spurted out of his knob onto my neck and chest and dribbled down onto my breasts. I smiled inwardly. I was grateful to him for fucking them. I knew Zoe loved them, but this seemed to be the best way to fully appreciate them.
Then Quintus, the other friend, stepped forward, followed by Drusus, and, for the rest of that afternoon, I was their fuck toy. The three of them manhandled me and passed me around as an object to be used for their pleasure. Whenever I became physically responsive, they slapped me and held me still until I was completely passive. Then my only movements were the jolts they created by thrusting at me. If one of them took too long with me, the other two became impatient and found new ways to use me. Marcellus was fucking me but struggling to climax for a third time when Drusus became fed up with waiting, approached me from behind and pushed his cock into my anus. I’d shared a bed with two men before, but they had taken turns, so this was a new and thrilling experience, literally doubling my pleasure. Seeing Drusus and Marcellus share me in that way, Quintus stepped up, took hold of my head, and forced his long, narrow cock into my mouth and down my throat. Although I’d been sexually active for a few years, I never felt like a puta (slut) until that afternoon. Orgasming ecstatically with three cocks inside me, I felt that my sole purpose was to be filled with cock and semen. It was a highlight of my love life up to that time. When I told Zoe about it under the sheets that night, I got turned on all over again and she had to satisfy me with her fingers and tongue, which of course she was happy to do.