Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Roman Mistress...


A hot Mediterranean day in a ruined Roman city and I've got the place to myself. I slip off my sandals and walk barefoot over the warm, worn flagstones of the main street. I mop the sweat from my eyes. It's easy to imagine myself two thousand years in the past. I'm a slave on an errand for my mistress... a luscious black-haired Roman girl with olive skin and a fiery temper.

White flashes off to my left.

I blink. It could have been the swirl of a flowing gown. It could have been her.

I turn off the main street down an ally between the foundations of ancient shops and houses. Ahead, there's a high wall of crumbling brick. A sign in Turkish and English says "SLAVE MARKET ->".

My groin gives a lurch. I turn to hurry in the direction of the arrow and the grit punishes the soles of my feet.

I stop to put on my sandals and notice a hole in the wall. I peer through.

It leads into small room that must be a slave cell. The Department of Antiquities has been at work - a gate of wooden bars is bolted shut across the doorway. Beyond the bars something moves.

I push my head through the hole, into the cool of the brick chamber and hear voices calling out like Turkish street vendors, but in Latin - "Serva pulchra! Ecce! Serva pulchra!" Through the gaps in the wood, I glimpse naked flesh - a breast or buttock, a furry pussy or flaccid penis and balls, in skin tones from white to ebony - and swathes of fabric catching the sun as Roman men and women peruse the human merchandise.

Somebody's making a movie!

The place must be closed. I start to withdraw, but then I see it; a bronze slave collar just lying on the straw on the floor of the cell.

What if I slipped in and took it? It's just a prop, they'll have hundreds of them.

I shuck off my rucksack and wriggle through the hole. I have to walk my hands through the straw before I can get my legs down.

The collar is icy cool to the touch. Erection growing, I lift it to my throat and close it. There's a "snick!" and it's clamped around my neck.

My heart leaps into my throat. Gasping for breath, I fumble around the metal band, feeling for the catch. But there is no catch. The panic subsides and I realise that it's not designed to open. Perhaps at the hostel, with a safety pin...

A naked girl passes the gate. The wood only lets me glimpse slices of blond hair and honey skin. Now I want to press up close and see the scene - be part of the scene.

Crap! I'm wearing camo-pattern cargo pants and a "I love Ali's Kebabs" T-shirt. They'll notice me in seconds. I strip off down to my briefs--damn! Red Y-fronts with black trimmings. Hell, half the actors are naked anyway...

I bundle my clothes into the corner. Naked now except for the bronze collar, I crawl up to the gate and press my face to the rough wooden bars.

Butterflies gather in the pit of my stomach. It looks real!

They've restored the front of the buildings. It's just a big open courtyard, no columns, no shady little roofs like you expect from the books. Instead, naked slaves stand outside their cells in the sweltering heat while men and women in togas - though I'm sure that's not the right name - inspect their teeth, squeeze their biceps, breasts or buttocks.

There's a sob from nearby. The blond girl is off to the side, standing in front of the next door cell. Her skin is stretched over powerful muscles - she has the body of an athlete - but she slouches, shoulders hunched away from me. She sobs again.

She can't be doing it for effect, because I can't see any cameras. "Cheer up," I say.

She half turns her head, and a yellow braid swishes over her bare shoulder. "I'm just not used to this," she says in what sounds like a German accent. "I'm not a slave."

"Well, it's who you're being right now," I say as brightly as I can. "If you're going to be a naked slave, be a proud one. You don't want to look as if you're destined to dig turnips."

"Whats a turnip?" She shrugs her shoulders. "But you are right." She draws herself up and stands there like an amazon.

A man barks, "Right then! Right then! Out with you!" My gate swings open. A burly man with a stick towers over me. "On your feet boy!"

"S...sorry," I stammer.

He taps my flanks with the stick. "Just get up and stand next to the girl." He coughs then calls out, "Handsome male Celt, luscious female German. Buy both for a good deal!" He must think I'm one of the actors.

Relieved but nervous, I stumble into the sunlight and force myself not to turn and stare at the blond. I can feel the reflected heat from her skin, smell her animal scent. Instead, I play my part and try to keep my eyes front.

We're near corner of the courtyard. Just across from me, to my left, is another actor. He's not entirely naked - he's wearing a silver hip belt and some sort of cage over his groin.

He meets my gaze with hopeless eyes. I blush and slowly look away, pretending I'm just glancing around the slave market.

There's still no sign of the cameras and the rest of the city rises up behind the courtyard - towering temples, six-storey apartment blocks - must be some sort of collapsible set mounted on the roof-

-except that I can see people moving on the apartment balconies.

I twist around to look behind me. The clothes are still bundled in the back of the cell. The jagged hole frames the ruined foundations of the city. But when I look up, over the roof of the slave market, there's another apparent block, with an old man leaning over the balcony watching the market.

This is real!

I caught in a time slip and I'm a slave. Anything could happen to me. Anything...

There's a sharp thwack and my left buttock seems to explode in pain. "Eyes front, boy!"

I turn obediently. There's still time to make a break for that hole in the wall. To hell with my clothes. If I'm quick--

--it's Her. My fantasy Roman mistress, strolling under the shade of parasol. She has a train of slaves, but I barely see them.

She's as I imagined; petite with a mountain of jet black hair piled onto her head, wide dark eyes lined with kohl. Her white gown flows as she walks, the swishing hem giving me glimpses of elegant feet wrapped in the leather straps of sandals.

My penis rears up in greeting.

She doesn't seem to notice, but her taller friend - an older looking woman with hennaed red hair - giggles. "Cordelia, I believe this one has the required virility."

Cordelia's dark eyebrows lower. "I'm still not sure, Livia."

"Just you wait until he has a seadpod fitted!" With a giggle, Livia releases her arm and steps up to me. "Boy?"

"Yes..." Yes what? Mistress sounds corny. "...lady."

"Can you read and write?"

I nod.

"Are you a virgin?"

I blush and my erection shrivels. I want to make an excuse, explain about the years studying but...

"Can you give a massage?"

I nod again. I got quite good at that with Mary - not that it got her knickers off.

"See?" says Livia. She moves to the blond girl. "What about you?"

"I can read and write, do accounts, I know how a dinner should be served and hair dressed..."

The pulse in my ears drowns her words. The German is built like a cat, all sinew and muscle, with pert conical breasts almost as an afterthought. Livia is chattering away to her, unaware of the danger.

I glance around.

Cordelia is in conversation with the slaver. She nods and an older male slave hands over three silver coins - is that all I'm worth. "Come on Livia, I want to go to the baths."

Livia giggles. The pair of them link arms and sweep off across the courtyard. A couple of the slaves follow with parasols.

The older slave just grunts. "You two, come with me." He leers. "We're stopping by the jewellers on the way home."

Still naked, the German blond and I set off after him and into the streets of the living Roman city.

Though I don't look back, I'm aware of that hole into the 21st Century getting further and further away. The bronze collar warms in the sun, until it feels like it belongs.

7 comments:

Jack said...

Well done Giles. I must say though, I always sided with the rabbit in the Trix commercials. He should get some too.

Jack

An Insomniac Night Owl said...

Interesting story, but I'm not sure its a good fit for the site - not only isn't there a chastity belt, but I'd argue that its setting up for a castration scene (a male slave getting a prominent erection when looking at his new owners?)

Keep playing with the idea of alternate universe/time travel, though. The mechanism isn't real great here (spontaneous wormhole?), but there's potential here. I really like the potential of both male and female people going to an alternate Roman Empire universe: a scene where two casual acquaintances (maybe with a secret crush) end up on the other side, he a pleasure slave, she his wealthy owner.

The transdimensional tours idea from earlier is a strong possibility (imagine the college field trips), but a Quantum Leap style "body borrowing" might be interesting - you never know who the pleasure slave servicing you might be "back home", and vice versa (is the girl I'm pleasuring actually the cute girl from down the hall?)

Giles English said...

Good point. Fixed?

An Insomniac Night Owl said...

Hmm . . . interesting. . . isn't the Seedpod an actual chastity device? I seem to remember seeing a metal cock cage (along the lines of your chastity cups) by that name on the Altairboy site.

On a story note, it still feels like a slightly forced tie-in with the site's theme. Showing the scene where your protagonist is being fitted with his new chastity device, or maybe a scene where his new owners deliberately try to "inflame his passions"*, or maybe even a flashback/"how things got this way" scene, but this still seems more a period, vaguely femdom piece rather than a chastity story. However, you did address my earlier concern - if the protagonist is getting locked up soon, then castration seems to be off the table

Just on background, though - why are you mixing languages? The protagonist seems to be an English speaker, doesn't understand Italian, but can converse with people speaking ancient (or alterante universe) Latin?



*maybe there's a cultural tradition where a woman can draw "power" or good luck from a male by keeping him horny, yet unable to do anything about it. That would certainly be a plausible adaptation of ancient Roman beliefs.

Giles English said...

Hi AINO, so nice to hear from you again.

Language: It's a magical time slip, so he has to be able to understand the language. I guess, he's drifting back, he'll start hearing Latin and not English.

Seedpod/Theca: These are supposed to be real - think I posted on it earlier. Whether they were locked on, is not clear. But why not?

It's intriguing to write about non-consensual slavery that's grim and real, but actually has a very recognisable femdom corner. I wanted to make the hero from our time, because I'm interested in the fantasy collides with reality thing. I'll probably tinker with this one some more...
G

An Insomniac Night Owl said...

Ah . . . I thought you were talking about this style of chastity device:

http://www.mr-s-leather.com/CB306.html

or this variant:

http://www.mr-s-leather.com/CB307.html

not referring to your earlier post.


By the way, are you also posting stories on Literotica? I noticed that someone posted a two part "Aqua Sulis" chastity belt romance there.

And its nice to be back - you have a lot of interesting ideas, and its always fun to read your work.

Kold_Kadavr_flatliner said...

Ya know where we can and will have -ALL- of that for -ALL- of U.S.? (not the country) Heaven Above. See, God knew the Liar would conform humanity in these Last Days, thus, God chose in these End Times to provide the best for all of us who don't conform to the world in this finite existence, thus, we can and will have ANYTHING and more in Heaven. Just gotta believe, brudda. God bless you. See 'sexponential' first for a world of TRUE dreams and realities.

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