A Slavegirl of Rome

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!