THE ROMAN SLAVEGIRL

by

SYRA BOND

Published by Chimera Books

ISBN 9781780804507

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Copyright Syra Bond. The right of Syra Bond to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex.

Preface

After my time with Galen and the others in Spain, I was keen to get away as quickly as I could. Africa was my dream but I could not afford the ferry from Algeciras. Sitting on the dock in despair, I was promised free passage on a cargo ship if I was prepared to work for the crew. However, their idea of 'work' was only a perverted form of slavery. They kept me locked up in a greasy engine room, tying me by the wrists to pipe and only releasing me when they wanted to use me for their pleasure. Most days I was caned or spanked and sometimes I was whipped with a narrow leather strap. Every day I had to suck all of them. Finally, they threw me off the boat at Naples: ragged, destitute and dejected. As I walked the streets I was befriended by a young woman - a research student like me and about my age - who was working on a manuscript found recently in Pompeii. She let me stay with her and, as she worked translating the text from the original Latin and I recovered from my ordeal, I began recording her translation in the form of a story. The girl's supervisor, Dr Ahmad, a swarthy academic from Algeria was a cruel teacher. I used to watch through the heavy curtains, which were always drawn for their meetings, as she stood before him and read out her day's work. He scowled and never seemed pleased and often she ended up bent over his lap with her panties pulled down in a tangle around her ankles as he punished her for her shortcomings. I kept out of his way but, even so, perhaps when I prepared a meal and it was not quite to his taste or he did not like the colour of something I was wearing, I too felt the sting of his hand on my bare, upturned buttocks. I spent three months there and the product of this time is the story of The Roman Slavegirl.

Syra Bond. Naples. 2005

Chapter 1

The House of Slaves

Slightly inland from the soft blue haze of the Bay of Naples, and beneath the brooding cone of the sleeping Vesuvius stood Pompeii. Occupied by the Emperor Sulla in 89 BC it quickly became a Roman resort, dedicated to the fulfilment of pleasures of the flesh and inhabited by discerning patrons of the arts of depravity. It was to here that Romans flocked to have their sexual cravings fulfilled. There was a market for every vice and Olconio Rufo was the best-known supplier. Everyone that came to his fine house - to the richly mosaicked room at the rear of the atrium which he kept for meeting his clients - could be sure that whatever they requested would, if they were prepared to pay, be supplied.

Behind Rufo's house, along the high walled Street of Wolves that led to the Temple of Jupiter, were his slaves' quarters. The House of Slaves was a dark, windowless building crammed with women he had purchased either to sell on - perhaps to Africa or the town's brothels - or, if he thought they showed particular promise, to train for the specific requests of his most perverted and depraved customers. These women, from all corners of the Empire, worked on menial tasks until Rufo decided their fate.

Caristia was one of these unfortunates. Captured in Northern France early in 79AD and already a slave since childhood, she had been brought to Southern Italy because of her fine pale skin and her youth. And, as the trader that sold her to Rufo was keen to point out as she stood naked, humiliated and bound in chains in the market place, because she 'lifted her bottom for a spanking whenever she saw a hand'.

She had now been at Rufo's House of Slaves for several weeks.

'Pick that up slave!' shouted Magnus with relish as he brought the cane up behind his head. 'Pick it up!'

He paced towards Caristia across the dimly lit cellar where about twelve young, half naked women were straining to stack food and wine on high racks. The cane came down and caught the young girl - blue-eyed, flaxen-haired and slender - a glancing blow on her barely covered buttocks as she bent to pick up the bowl. She cowered as she reached out, hoping to avoid another blow, but from the resigned look on her face it was obvious she knew it was useless. Her bright blue eyes widened and her golden hair caught a glitter of sunlight as, her taut slender body frozen in fear and expectation, she awaited her fate. Ever since she had arrived in Pompeii - brought in through the Sea Gate, linked by chains in a trudging line of other slaves - and been sold to Rufo, she had been victimised by his vengeful slave master, Magnus Maximus. He stood above her, a towering African, himself brought from Nubia and sold into slavery but now, after years of faithful service, given his freedom by his rich and greedy master, Rufo.

'You are too slow,' he said, grinning broadly at the other slave women who all hung their heads silently, hoping they would not become his next target. He turned back to the flaxen-haired girl. 'It is true what they say. You invite the cane instead of avoiding it. You pretend to cower beneath me, but I can see in your eyes that you are wishing for more.'

'No master,' she said, grabbing the bowl and, staying on all fours, offering it to him compliantly in her right hand. 'I want only to do your bidding. That is my only wish, master, to serve you.'

He grinned again and lifted the cane. It glistened like a shaft of light in the yellow flickering gleam cast by the oil lamps placed in alcoves around the cellar. His black, freshly oiled body glittered; he looked like a god. His head was shaven smooth and his torso naked, his genitals barely covered by tight cotton cloth twisted at his waist and, beyond his heavily muscled legs, his feet were bound with the tight leather straps of his open sandals. He was an inspiring warrior, only spared combat in the arena when Rufo had discovered his talents for disciplining his female slaves. Magnus teased the end of the cane between his large white teeth then ran his tongue along its length. Caristia lowered the bowl and laid it on the floor as if realising the inescapability of punishment. Magnus smirked.

'Put down the bowl, little slave, and rest your hands on the floor.'

She did as she was told and, as she dipped her back, she raised her bottom slightly. He bent and lifted the tattered hem of her cotton smock, revealing her nakedness and her taut pale buttocks. He dropped the material into the small of her back then ran the tip of the cane against her bottom, tracing a white line across her smooth skin with its fine point. Aroused by its touch, as if by the promise of pain, she lifted her bottom higher, bending her elbows and dropping her shoulders until some of the spikes of her shock of blonde hair touched the cold stone floor.

'I am sorry master,' she whimpered, unable to disguise the racing of her heart in her fractured voice. 'I must be punished, I know it.'

He ran the tip of the cane around her buttocks, circling their pert beauty before again lifting the hem of the smock, pulling it up along her well-defined spine then dropping it down over her shoulders. As it fell, covering her head, she lowered her shoulders further and raised her buttocks higher. The dark crack between them opened and from the tantalising shadow the fleshy pink of her cunt was revealed - narrow and smooth and mounded up at the sides. Magnus ran the point of the cane along the delectable valley, prodding at her labia, testing their delicacy and, under the pressure of the cane they opened slightly and the slit at their centre glistened with her fragrant moisture. She sighed, a muffled sigh of compliance and let the side of her face rest submissively on the floor. She lay there, bent before him like a sacrifice.

Magnus lifted the cane above his head and paused. Caristia panted heavily, waiting for the cane to fall, knowing how much it would sting, how much it would burn and how much she would suffer until, finally, when he decided she had endured enough, it would end. She bit her lips and, warned by only the faintest swish of air, he brought it down fully across her naked bottom. She gasped as the stinging pain burned into her and she held her breath in an effort to stop herself from yelling too soon and as a way of bracing herself for the next. Her blue eyes widened when it fell, and she screwed up her face as the second lashing pain penetrated her but, as he raised the cane for the third time, she lifted her bottom still higher, opening the crack of her cunt and exposing her swelling flesh as much as she could for more.

He brought the cane down relentlessly but still she pushed her bottom up to meet it. No matter how hard it fell, how penetrating the pain, she still pushed herself at it, still lifted her buttocks, still exposed her cunt until she felt on fire, until she was burning with its heat. It scorched through her skin, up her neck and into her face. Then she sucked it in with gasping breaths and it entered her very soul, filling her mind with images and driving her into a reverie of uncontrollable delight. She met each stroke with increasing ecstasy and when, finally, she sensed he would stop, she opened her buttocks wide, exposing the inner petals of her now soaking cunt and letting the stinging cane fall against its tender edges. His strokes built to a crescendo, lacing her tender flesh and, as if she had been unplugged, she felt the scream she had held in coursing up her throat. It broke free in a long penetrating screech and she collapsed, dropping fully to the floor, drenched by the flood of her own pent up, explosive orgasm, soaked by the bliss of pain.

As she panted and jerked under the shroud of her smock she felt Magnus running the tip of the cane along the red stripes that now covered her pale-skinned bottom. Her skin was so sensitised she squirmed at the slightest touch. She did not know whether he would start again, whether she had been punished enough, and she waited in case she must bear more - in case she must prepare herself for more ecstasy. But, as she heard him step back, she realised it was over and, still with her face covered, she sighed, rolled over and dropped her legs wide apart.

Magnus knelt down between them and turned to the other women.

'And now little ones, you can see her true reward. Here! You two! Come and hold her wrists. And you two! Hold her ankles.'

They ran forward obediently, but one took the lead. Bec, the captured daughter of the Dane Thorkell, tall and raven-haired, pushed the others aside so that she could take hold of Caristia first.

Caristia struggled as the women knelt and took hold of her. She felt their hands gripping her wrists and pulling her arms wide and she felt the exposure of her naked cunt as her ankles were held apart. She pulled herself from side to side in a desperate bid to remain free. Bec dug her nails into Caristia's ankles and glowered down at her menacingly; they had already fought over food and Bec had sworn to pay her back. Magnus rested forward on his hands and looked into Caristia's wide blue eyes. Caristia smelled his scent, myrrh and cloves, heady and strong and she felt his power. Not only his physical strength, which was immense, but his control of her, the subjugation of her will to his, and she gave a sudden gasp of apprehension as she realised her frailty.

He grabbed the tattered cloth of her smock that was still tangled up around her face and ripped it down the front. In one movement it was rent apart exposing her small firm breasts and flat stomach and, between her wide-spread legs and beneath the partial covering of delicate tousled pubic hair, the soft pink of her fleshy crack.

She pulled against the restraining hands of the other women but, even as she felt their unyielding tension, her desperation to escape ebbed as she felt the smouldering flames of excitement burning somewhere within her exposed body. She pulled again and this time - with the very act of tensioning her body - the flames of passion, of anticipation, licked around the swollen edges of her soft cunt, sensitising them like a caressing tongue, causing her to squirm not only against the hands that held her but also against the heat that was flowing within her hips. Magnus dropped down and kissed her, licking her full lips with his own, driving his tongue into her mouth and searching out hers, analysing its response, testing her ability to hold back. He broke away, reared up like a massive cobra and drew a deep breath.

'See!' he shouted to the other women. 'You have no need to hold our little slave. Unless it is to hold her back! Yes! Her passion might even overcome the mighty Magnus. Keep a firm grip on her or she will jump up, wrestle me to the floor and overcome me!'

He grinned, then dropped and kissed her again. She felt the oiled skin of his muscular chest against her, rubbing against her nipples and hardening them. She felt his massive thighs against the inside of her own, wiping their oil against her, moistening her and, as he pressed himself closer, she felt the bulge of his cock. Already pounding inside his tight loincloth it pressed against the swollen edges of her cunt, pulling them apart, opening her up and making her ready. Still with his mouth firmly against hers and his tongue delving deeply inside, she felt his hand working its way to the base of her flat stomach. She felt his knuckles against her pubic hairs, pulling at them as they caught up between his fingers. Then she felt the heat of his cock as he lifted it from beneath his cotton loincloth and held it between the tops of her thighs. When he turned his hand over she felt his fingers prising apart the edges of her flesh and she felt them squeezing hard against the base of her throbbing, hardening clitoris. She squirmed beneath him, struggling against the women as they held her fast, fighting them but now not wanting to escape. Now she wanted to release herself so that she was free to reach up and encircle him with her arms. To wrap her legs around his hips, to draw herself up onto him and drive herself onto his stiff, pulsating cock until she was so full it would be impossible to cram any more inside her. She struggled again and the tension of restraint only increased her desire. She pushed her hips at him, searching out the mass of his cock, wriggling herself around its end, working to insert it into herself. She struggled to enclose its heat, but it was hopeless, she was held too tightly. She moaned under his bulk, holding her breath as he continued to kiss her, hoping he would force his cock into her quickly and deliver her from the punishment of frustration.

He reached beneath her and lifted her buttocks. She felt stretched against her captors, as if straining on a crucifix. He wedged one hand beneath her waist, keeping her clear of the floor. Then, as he drove his cock into her - setting her on fire, filling her with burning delight - he smacked her bottom rhythmically, mirroring each push of his cock in her cunt with a heavy, resounding smack across her squirming buttocks. Each slap, each stinging strike of his huge flat hand, drove her further into delirium. Every time it landed she tightened more, tensing with the shock, stunned by the pain. But, even as she was filled with the anguish of hurt, she was suffused with the delights of the ecstasy of pleasure. Each stinging blow, each shrieking withdrawal from the source, each muscular spasm only mixed with the delightful throbbing in her cunt and transported her further into a heaven of shrieking bliss. She sucked at his tongue, dragging it to the back of her throat and she rode up as much as she could onto his cock, now filling and pulsating with the surging tide of his oncoming orgasm. She tightened her hips, hanging onto his pounding cock, keeping it deep inside her, drawing at it, making herself ready to drain the flow of semen that would soon drench the inside of her hot wet cunt. She pictured it filling her and, when at last she felt its heat spurting from his pulsating cock, she rose up onto it for a last time. She squeezed herself onto his cock and, with a dragging exhalation and a massive visceral shudder, she released her own convulsive orgasm. She hung there as he finished, jerking and shaking, allowing him to fill her, allowing him to set her on fire and, only when he pulled out and she felt the dribble of semen running stickily on the insides of her legs, did she relax slightly and allow her buttocks to fall back onto the cold stone floor.

'You have found me another one then, my dear Magnus,' shouted a finely dressed man as he entered the cellar. All the women except Bec dropped away in deference, bowing their heads and backing against the rough stone walls. They looked frightened and pitiful; some with their breasts exposed, others with barely a rag pulled around their waists and several completely naked. 'Let me see her,' the man ordered, standing above Magnus. 'You have not allowed me a full view yet.' He stood above Bec as she opened her mouth and showed her teeth to Caristia. 'Magnus! Move this one. Is she out of control? Surely you have not lost your touch. I think she needs some discipline.'

'Yes master. No master Rufo.' stuttered Magnus, getting to his feet and bowing his head.

'Magnus, there is no need to call me master. You are a free man. No matter. I expect you to keep my little savages under control. Remind me of your talents. Let me see you bring this one who bares her teeth to heel.'

Magnus grabbed Bec by the arm and tried to force her onto her knees. She resisted and, as she was twisted sideways she sank her teeth into his forearm. He looked more astonished than in pain as he watched the blood flowing down onto the back of his hand then, suddenly, his expression changed and a fire of redness lit up in his dark eyes as he realised that this was a challenge to his authority.

'On your knees!' he shouted.

'Magnus!' taunted Rufo. 'Beware! She has the teeth of a wolf and is ready to pounce at you again.'

Caristia edged away, pulling herself backwards with her stinging bottom against the cold floor. She glanced at Bec who, as soon as she caught her eye, lurched at Caristia, desperate to break free from Magnus so she could attack her real enemy - not the controlling Magnus but her rival, Caristia.

'What is wrong with the woman, Magnus?' shouted Rufo gleefully. 'She is more like a gladiator than a servant. Perhaps we should be training her for the ring instead of the bed chamber.'

'I will discipline her, master. She will not get the better of me I assure you.'

'Then discipline her. Let me see her brought to heel. Let me see her keeping her bare white teeth behind those full and luscious lips. Let me see her prepared to service the needs of a man and not the needs of her own wolf-like appetite.' He held his hand beneath her chin, squeezing her cheeks slightly and glaring into her wild eyes, then as he saw her making ready to spit, he released her and turned away. 'Discipline her!'

Magnus grabbed Bec by the arm and twisted her round. She fought him but he was so powerful that, in one movement, he wrapped both her wrists behind her back and held them there in one of his huge hands.

'Now slave,' he said looking into her eyes, 'I will show my master how you can be subdued.'

Still holding her hands behind her back with one hand, and with his elbow pressing between her shoulder blades, he bent her down over his crooked knee. Her breasts, for all their tautness, dropped forward with the shock of the forward thrust and Caristia stared at Bec's proud nipples, reddened by her frustration and throbbing with her passion to fight. Bec kicked her legs frantically but, as she bared her teeth and spat at the staring Caristia, Magnus brought his right leg together with his left and secured her, as if in a vice, between his muscular thighs. He brought his free hand down on her tense bottom with a loud smack. She tensed, tightening herself against the trap that held her, but she did not alter the expression on her face, all the time staring hard at Caristia as if trying to burn her with her gaze.

Magnus spanked her hard, each time bringing his hand down more firmly. The loud smacks caused Bec to tense until she was rigid, but she did not cry out, nor did she squirm or try to avoid the blows. Caristia looked at Bec's taut body and listened to the regular rhythm of Magnus's smacking hand. She leant back against the wall, almost hidden by the shadows, and allowed her fingers to drift between her legs. She felt the soft insides of her thighs then, slowly working them upwards, she met the crack of her cunt. It was wet and still dripping with semen, but now a fresh moisture was glistening on her swollen pink flesh. As she exposed herself in the half light of the lamps her cunt glistened with the dampness of excitement brought on by the sight of Bec: rigid, clasped between Magnus's massive thighs, staring fixedly ahead at her adversary, bearing the pain and showing how she could stand it and any amount more.

Caristia worked her fingers into the soft folds of her outer labia, teasing them apart, finding the silky wetness on their inside edges and seeking out her clitoris - uncovered already - exposed to the glancing touch of her fingertips, growing with expectation, making her pant. She dropped her legs wider and saw Bec staring between them. She wanted her trapped enemy to look at her cunt as she opened it, revealing its inner leaves, showing the darkness of her throbbing clitoris, letting Bec delve into it with her eyes. Each smack that landed on Bec's buttocks, each extra tensing it brought about in her unyielding body, led Caristia to delve her fingers further. Her eyes widened as she squirmed onto the full stretch of her fingers, all the time staring at the object of her desire; the prone, dribbling Bec. She pulled her fingers up and down, caressing the inside of her vagina then, as she sensed the beating coming to an end, she held them stiffly, thrust them up to the knuckles and dropped herself onto them, finishing in a silent, heavy, throbbing orgasm.

Magnus released Bec, dropping her to the floor, her buttocks reddened and angry. He reached down as she fell and he pinched her nipples between his thumbs and fingers, but still she stared unswervingly at Caristia.

'She needs the cane, master; she will not be subdued by a simple hand,' said Magnus.

'Then you must leave her punishment until later. For the moment I wish to see this little one who is, by the looks of it, already excited by what she sees. Or has her passion been released by my presence, Magnus?'

Caristia pulled her hands from between her legs as Rufo turned towards her.

'Yes master,' said Magnus, stepping over Bec and growling at her in annoyance. 'It is surely your presence.'

'Magnus, I remind you again that you are a free man now,' said Rufo with some irritation. 'You do not need to call me master. You should call me Olconio Rufo. Say it now: "Olconio Rufo".'

'Yes,' Magnus hesitated, embarrassed. 'Yes, Olconio Rufo,' he stuttered slowly and with much discomfort.

'Now, stand aside, clear this indolent one out of the way and tell me about this pretty little maid you have selected - and already tried out for me. Who is she, Magnus?'

Magnus kicked out and Bec reluctantly dropped back, still glowering at Caristia but no longer baring her teeth and no longer struggling to attack her. She put her hands against her bottom but not to rub them, to assuage the pain, but to show that she was untroubled by the beating, that she held it in contempt. Magnus was angered by her scorn but had to ignore her.

'Master,' Magnus faltered as Rufo smiled at him tolerantly. 'She is one of the youngest here and from Northern France. You purchased her three weeks ago from the market. '

'Yes? Yes?'

'She likes the feel of a man's hand across her buttocks, sir. She likes the cane as well, but especially she likes a hand.'

'How does she feel? Is she well fleshed? Is she moist?'

'Yes sir, she is, as moist as silk, and she rises onto a man's member like a tide, like a rushing sea eager to come into the shore.'

Rufo laughed at Magnus's poetry.

'You are a romantic, Magnus. You should take up philosophy. Now, could she be trained?'

'Yes sir, without doubt.'

'Sit up girl,' ordered Rufo. 'Let me see you properly. Tell me your name.'

Caristia got up onto her knees and bowed her head. Her torn smock was still bundled up around her waist and she saw Magnus's glistening semen, mixed with her own moisture, still running stickily down the insides of her thighs. She still felt his heat inside her cunt and she took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself.

'Caristia, master.'

'You are indeed a pretty one. I wonder if you are as interesting as Magnus says.'

He turned her slowly by the shoulders. She clasped her hands together submissively and laid them gently against her pubic hair, covering her wet cunt as she folded her fingers between her legs and into its crack. Her eyes rolled slightly as she felt the warmth of her fingertips slipping inside the silky folds of her flesh and, even as he continued to turn her, she let her fingers delve a little deeper.

Rufo looked into her bright blue eyes.

'She is very young, Magnus. How has she picked up the skills you say she has?'

'It is the breed, sir. The northern tribes are born to it.'

Rufo pushed her shoulders forward, bending her at the waist so he could see her bottom fully. She did not resist, but dropped forward, keeping her hands where they were and allowing her head to almost touch her knees. Rufo smoothed his hand across her taut bottom and she opened her buttocks at his touch, revealing her delving fingers between the flesh of her moist crack. He rubbed her buttocks more and she responded with a sigh, an expectant moan drawn only from desire, and she drove her fingers deeper.

'You are right my friend,' said Rufo, pleased. 'She is indeed special.' He pressed his fingertip against her anus and it opened for him, dilating in a neat dark circle as she lifted higher as an offering. She wanted his finger inside, penetrating her as deeply as it would go, and she sighed again as she thought of being filled. She bent as far forward as she could, showing him the moist crack of her cunt, glistening and pink and opened by her own fingers and exposing her anus, a dark recess of delight. He pressed his finger in and she rode up on it, moaning loudly as he pushed, in one thrust, up to the knuckle. She squirmed on his hand, feeling her clitoris with wet frantic fingers, moaning, dribbling, needing more. He brought his other hand down on her tight bottom in a loud smack and the shock and sharpness made her squeeze her buttocks together, clamping his finger deeply inside her anus and causing shivers of bliss to penetrate deeply into her shaking body. Another loud smack and she squeezed onto his finger even tighter. Then another and she shouted out, not in pain but in eagerness, hanging onto his finger in her anus, feeling it so deep, feeling so full, but still wanting more. She craved to finish yet was desperate to hold herself in that enchanting moment of anticipation, inhabiting that heavenly state of delicious frustration.

Magnus stood in front of her and she smelled his body as he lifted his hard cock towards her mouth. She let him force it right to the back of her throat before closing her mouth around it. When she did encircle it with her lips she felt its pulsating veins sending shockwaves around her face. Rufo kept up the beating, smacking her as hard as he could, each time knocking her forward onto Magnus's cock. She gulped between each heavy smack then, as she felt her face reddening with the fire of her own orgasm, Magnus's throbbing cock expanded in her mouth and filled her with a flood of semen. Even though there was barely enough room for it to squeeze past the massive cock that forced her mouth as wide as it would go, it ran from the sides of her mouth. It dribbled and ran onto her chin and, as the pace of the smacking increased, she rose up on Rufo's stiff finger for a last time and submitted to the joy of a jerking, convulsive orgasm.

Rufo took his finger out of Caristia's anus and she hung before him, bent and dissipated, gasping for breath with semen running from her trembling mouth. Rufo moved back and smiled.

'Magnus, she is indeed special. From now on keep little Caristia at her tasks but set aside a time each day for special training. I will supervise it myself. I am meeting some clients this afternoon and have some interesting ideas to put to them. And Magnus, make sure that she feels the flat of your hand every day; we do not want her to lose her keenness from lack of use. No, do not let her go without. She may have to miss her food but do not hold back on her spanking.' Magnus bowed his head, unable to do otherwise, and Rufo, smiling at his old slave's continued unconquerable subservience, turned to go. 'Oh, and the other one, the one who got the better of you, our little spitting wolf. Such spirit, so unlike the delectable little Caristia and yet so complementary. Make sure she is caned and then bring her to me. Like her little opponent, her future is already decided.'

Chapter 2

Caristia is taken into training

All Rufo's guests reclined on the elegant couches, propping themselves up on their left elbows as custom demanded, all looking eager for their evening meal, the only main meal of the day. They had spent the afternoon in the main Stabian Baths, luxuriating themselves in the steam rooms, having their skin scraped clean by young male slaves, plunging headlong into freezing pools of crystal clear water and finally, being massaged by the powerful hands of Turkish eunuchs whose lives were dedicated to their art. Now, facing in towards the low tables decked with fastidiously prepared food, they were all ravenous.

'Rufo, I hear you have some fresh stock,' said a young man, barely out of his twenties with rich black hair and, as was conventional, a short growth of dark beard. 'And some interesting ones at that, apparently.' He laughed as he took a glass of wine mixed with water from a dark-haired young slavegirl. He held her thin wrist as she reached forward to serve him, and she pulled back instinctively against his firm grip. 'More willing than this one, I think,' he said, laughing as he let her go and she rushed away red-faced and embarrassed to refill the serving amphora.

'Dear Lucretius Fronto, how do you get to hear of these things? You must have spies all over Pompeii,' said Rufo, beckoning the flustered and frightened Innocenti to refill his glass. 'Sometimes I think some of my own slaves must be in your pay.' The young girl hurried over and tipped the blue glass amphora until the lemon-coloured wine gurgled freely over the carefully shaped neck. 'Careful girl!' shouted Rufo as some of the wine spilled onto his hand. 'Careful!'

'If this is one of your new girls, my dear Olconio Rufo, the only interesting thing she demonstrates is her stupidity.' Rufo's face tightened in anger. 'Perhaps the talents of your new slave is disobedience Rufo,' mocked Fronto.

'Kneel girl!' Rufo shouted at Innocenti. 'At my feet.' The young girl knelt nervously and hung her head, exposing her small breasts in the fold of her loose, open-necked tunic. She licked her lips edgily and her hands shook with fear.

'Such obedience, my dear Rufo. No wonder your services are sought throughout Pompeii,' jeered the young man. 'If this is the quality of your stock, my friend, I do not think you will be parting me from any of my money.'

Rufo scowled at Innocenti and she flushed as she felt the heat of his stare.

'Bend over, girl!' he shouted angrily. 'You will be punished for your disobedience!' Innocenti flinched at the loudness of his voice, then keeping her knees together, she dropped forward obediently onto her still shaking hands. The low neck of her tunic opened more, revealing the small points of her hardened nipples as they tightened with her increasing anxiety. 'Magnus!' shouted Rufo. 'Bring in Caristia to serve while I punish this one.'

Magnus entered the room with Caristia on a short lead tied to a collar around her slender neck. She looked around fleetingly then dropped her bright blue eyes and followed Magnus as he led her to a serving table. She wore a short white tunic and looked fragile and delicate as she walked obediently behind him. Fronto obviously noticed her, and was clearly taken by her Saxon charm, but he was keen to taunt Rufo more and pretended to ignore her.

'Ah, Magnus,' said Fronto, picking up a fig and carefully teasing it apart to reveal the pink inner flesh. 'A free man now, I believe. Rufo, you are indeed an emancipated soul. There are no slaves in my household who will ever gain their freedom I can assure you. Not a one. Consider yourself fortunate, Magnus, that you had a soft master.'

'Well, my splendid guest,' said Rufo, both annoyed and embarrassed by Fronto's continued criticism. 'Tell me your desires and I will be surprised if they are not readily available from my little harem.'

'From what I have seen I will be surprised if they are, my friend. Even so, for my own amusement I will tell you.'