Roman times

Roman Times

“Slave” Her master bellowed from the confines of yards of silk wrapped around him cocoon like.

Miriam froze in trepidation and felt the wine slop around in the amphora she was carrying. She feared what was to come next and hoped that she wasn’t in trouble.

“Put that down and come here.”

She hurried to put the wine down, resting the amphora against the wall. Her slave torc swung free from her loose necked gown and banged against her breastbone. Her fear grew in exponential leaps. Normally, she was ignored and left to her house duties, flitting from room to room almost unseen, while she performed her labours under the Housemaids direction.

She knew that Antonius had been drinking all day. One or two of the slaves had reported his increasing drunkenness and advised that it would be best to avoid him altogether. Miriam wasn’t given the choice. Ptolemy had given her the order to take the wine into his private chambers.

With her eyes downcast as her training decreed, she approached her master as he lay on the slightly raised dais, covered with silks and cushions. The smell of him assaulted her nose. He had obviously pissed himself and not bothered to clean up the mess or wash. She trembled and stood at the foot of the dais with her hands clasped at her lap. She looked forlorn; her trembling was pronounced and the shift she wore accentuated her trepidation as it shivered.

“Get me more wine.” He shoved his Ivory flagon at her and shook it, slopping the residue of his last drink over the sides to splash over the silk cloth that covered the decking to stain the delicate yellows a deep red.

Miriam grasped the proffered cup and hurried to fill it with his favoured Greek, sweet wine. Carefully, she poured from an earthenware amphora that rested in an iron stand beside the dais and then returned the filled flagon to him. She never once lifted her eyes and made no sound. Keeping her head down, she offered the cup to him above her head with both hands, trying to keep it steady. It was taken from her and she prepared to leave him and complete her tasks.

“Stay.” He lifted the edge of his stained toga and pulled his dirty loincloth to one side. His flaccid cock swung lazily at eye level, his smell was almost overpowering and it was as much as she could do to stop herself from gagging.

“Do it.” He commanded in a bored sounding voice. “Do it now.”

Her heart sank even as she opened her mouth to accept him. It was her first time in this household to be used in this manner. She had hoped that it wouldn’t happen, hoped that she had left it all behind when she was sold from Alexander’s household.

His limp cock tasted awful. She thought she would throw up and knew she would either be killed or beaten severely if she did. Somehow, she fought the instinctive urge to gag and sucked him to stiffness. After a few minutes, he started to buck against her mouth and with no warning or sound, emptied his balls into her mouth. Miriam held the foul seed to one side of her mouth and hoped he wouldn’t want to see proof that she had swallowed it. She was spared.

“Go away.” He ordered her and didn’t expect an answer.

She hurried from the chamber and spat his vile excretion into a decorative urn. At eighteen years of age, she had become used to the treatment of her various tormentors in the form of owners.

Unseen, a veiling curtain swished silently as the observer of the sad tableau retreated into the darkness.

Miriam’s short life had been a sad indictment of modern times. Her Mother and Father had lived in the poorer section of Judea. His business as a sandal maker, hardly fed them while her mother’s laundry went to repaying a loan to Uncle Joshua. Just after her eighth birthday, her mother had died suddenly. Faced with ruin and trying to keep three mouths fed, clothed and housed. Her father came to what he considered the obvious solution. Miriam, being a daughter, was sold to her Uncle as a housemaid and full repayment for the longstanding debt. Her two brothers stayed with their father who moved away to another village. They lost touch very quickly.

Uncle Joshua didn’t really need a housemaid, but her youthful body appealed to his other nature. Although she had not yet started to develop her breasts or grow hair, he used her on a nightly basis. At aged ten, she had an abortion. Her Uncle’s seed had taken root, which was not surprising. By now, her body had started to fill out and she had begun to menstruate.

The abortion was done by a back street Quack who really only knew how to bleed people as a cure-all, but the proffered money helped him forget his lack of surgical knowledge. Miriam’s reproductive system was damaged in the brutal operation; she would never menstruate again or be able to bear a child.

Believing her to be a drain on his considerable finances, Uncle Joshua sold her to an Egyptian slaver. She was now a lithe twelve-year old, with the advantage of a fully developed body, conditioned to labour and well formed. The slaver took her to the markets as a neuter. I title that carried the promise of screwing the girl without the problems of unwanted pregnancies. It raised her price a little, but not by much. The Trader had used her body, at every nightly opportunity, on the six-month journey to Egypt. She was fucked in every orifice and became used to the assault of her young body.

A Roman woman, who wanted a companion for the lonely nights, bought her. Her husband was a government tax collector and spent many nights away from home while he set the tithes and collected the awards. For the first time since the death of her mother, Miriam found gentleness and even a little love. Her mistress and her male friends cared for her, a little too much for the husbands liking. Thinking Myriam to be an evil spirit and a bad influence on his unfaithful wife, she was sold again. After five and a half years in the household of a wine merchant, she was sold again into the household of Alexander who thankfully, was only interested in young boys. She didn’t stay very long there and was sold on to Antonius, her present situation.

She still carried the torc of a neutered slave, wearing it like a brand of ownership and status. Some of the torcs placed around the necks of the slaves held elevated positions. Although owned by a household, they had a certain amount of freedom, often forming alliances similar to unions, setting rules for the conditions of their ownership. Modern day Rome encouraged this freedom, believing that a happy slave was a productive slave and less likely to run away or be troublesome. Toa certain degree, it worked, but first, the slave had to prove their worth. The majority didn’t make the grade and either continued as a drudge to their owners and the elevated slaves as well, or died in an effort to win freedom.

Ptolemy, an Egyptian slave of indeterminate age, ran the household of Antonius. His heavily tattooed and scarred body always glistened with oil and his muscles rippled under his rich, dark black skin. The rest of the household were slaves of varied races. None had any standing and lived in fear of Ptolemy. A story of how he tracked a runaway down and dragged them back by the hair to then beat them to death, was a popular scare tactic. The story went on to various graphic descriptions of how he slowly killed them for the amusement of Antonius. Whether it was true or not didn’t matter too much, the implied threat was enough of a deterrent.

Antonius was married to Janus. She had very little to do with the slaves or the household, passing her time in different consortiums of similar women who were disenfranchised and had nothing much to occupy their lives, an idle rich group of women. As a club, they sought entertainment in any way they could. Every so often though, she would arrange a party, usually for holy days and the house would be in turmoil until it was over.