unforgettable night.
Later Kimar asked me if I had enjoyed my fetching companions. When I responded most enthusiastically, thanking him profusely for his generosity, he asked me if I had ever before had the rare privilege of enjoying both a mother and her daughter at the same time! Perhaps, he added with a sly wink, I’d care to see them make love to each other? Someday he would arrange for the two slaves to perform with each other for my private amusement. It was, he assured me, truly a stimulating sight!
Chapter Seven. The Lords Of Discipline
One warm, lazy afternoon, as we lounged about in his tent, Kimar began to tell me about his unique line of work He was a lonely man, with no one to talk to for long months on end, except for the slaves and the rather dull overseers he employed. So when he was in his cups with me, an “intelligent man-of-the-world,” as he called me, he wanted to talk. Kimar was justly proud of his reputation as purveyor of the finest sex slaves to the greatest city in the world, and he wanted me to understand that maintaining that reputation was a constant struggle. Sometimes it was an intolerable burden to keep up the increasing demands for both quantity and quality that were insisted upon by the demanding clientele of that insatiable city.
It was bad enough that raiders might pounce on the caravans at any time, that there was the need for constant vigilance, added to the increasing costs of expensive protection, the rigors of the long marches, but through it all he was expected to maintain a quality product. He commiserated with himself, shaking his head at the injustice of it all. It was even harder now that the war had cut off slaves from the East. Having learned submission at the hands of some minor Oriental potentate, they needed very little training. They would just as readily bend their knee to a Roman master. But with this source of pliable slaves temporarily cut off, and with the demands of Rome increasing, he was forced inevitably to turn to the north and west for new slaves, and these were a very different lot! Wild and unruly, these western barbarians had never learned true obedience. It was up to him to teach them. Now he lowered his voice and confided that there was but one true key to success: discipline. House slaves and field slaves must learn to obey. They were expected to follow orders and carry out their duties promptly. But sex slaves were another matter. They must learn instant and total submission!
Kimar’s slaves were sought so eagerly in Rome and commanded such exorbitant prices because they were so well trained. Kimar was a great believer in very strict discipline, and he had very definite ideas about training slaves. Their relentless training began from the first day, when the fresh captives were turned over to him by the army. The new slaves learned that he would tolerate nothing short of perfect obedience. The slave who learned quickly found that her master could be generous; but the slave who refused to submit and accept her new status graciously discovered that Kimar was a harsh master of discipline, well versed in many ingenious ways of enforcing his iron will.
The old slaver had quite definite-if rather unconventional-views on punishment. Of course, all slavers made extensive use of the whip to bring their charges into line, but Kimar did so only with the greatest reluctance. The whip was used sparingly, if at all, especially in the training of the attractive young women who had been earmarked for eventual service to the masters of Rome. Kimar much preferred the use of a stout paddle to enforce discipline, and though his overseers usually took care of such matters, he sometimes chose to take a personal hand in meting out the proper punishment.
“Some men whip their slaves, but I much prefer the use of the paddle. It gives me a great deal of pleasure while enforcing my will effectively in a way that is painful, but without lasting scars,” he explained matter-of- factly.
The firm hand of discipline would be eased only after the girl proved pliant and well-mannered, her obedience having been put repeatedly to the test and judged to be satisfactory. Warming to his subject, the old slaver invited me to witness one such punishment about to be carried out on a particularly recalcitrant slave, a Saxon girl whom he had acquired just recently. It seems she was a rather rebellious young lass, her obedience given grudgingly, her attitude downright surly.
He now invited me to accompany him to the exercise yard, where the slaves were being trained. As we approached the fenced-in grassy area that was used for this purpose, a gaggle of naked slave girls pounded past us, forced to run in the prancing step favored by their handlers, hands clasped behind the neck, knees pumping up high, their frisky breasts bouncing most delightfully as they passed by. I followed their progress past us and around the track, fascinated by the intriguing view from behind. I was still watching the rear view, entranced, when my attention was abruptly torn away by the shrill cry of a female in distress.
Across the yard from us a tussle had broken out as two of Kimar’s men struggled to subdue a squirming female. This was the Saxon girl, a stocky young woman with a riot of pale tresses that fell around her face and shoulders. She was a well-built girl with muscular thighs and firm high-set breasts, each hefty tit a full handful. Her heels were planted defiantly. Her shoulders twisted, trying to shake off the grasp of her guards, while her conical titties jiggled in furious agitation. She kept up her noisy opposition until she was gagged, and then she continued to struggle in a silent-but futile-attempt to avoid her fate. The burly men had little trouble in manhandling the naked woman. Each one taking an arm, they half-dragged, half-propelled the shrieking slave girl to the trestle frame.
Sometimes called the “horse,” this sturdy frame consisted of a padded crossbar supported on thick wooden legs. The crossbar was set at waist height so that a recalcitrant slave could easily be bent over the thickly padded wood. And it was over the crossbar that the businesslike overseers now deposited their charge unceremoniously, upending her so that I now saw why Kimar thought I might wish to witness this paddling, for this girl sported a meaty bottom that was perfectly made for just that purpose. Hers was a firm, sturdy ass, solid and nicely rounded. It was an ass that could absorb much punishment.
One of the overseers held her in place over the bar with a large flattened hand placed firmly on the small of her back while she wiggled her rump and strained upward. The other man dropped to one knee and, clamping her wrist, pulled down on her dangling arm. The girl flailed her legs in screeching protest, kicking her heels, but the men who held her stepped back quickly, and the heavy hand that pressed against her kept her pinned firmly in place. Now they held her legs and bound them together with strips of leather tied around her thighs and again around her calves.
The crouching man was working with swift efficiency now, running twine from the leather wristbands to a convenient wooden stake sunk in the ground to serve as an anchoring point Taking up the slack in the line had the effect of drawing the girl still farther over the crossbar till her tightly bound legs hung straight down on the near side, toes pointed down and stiffened so they barely touched the grass.
Now that she was stretched over the bar and held in place, the two overseers stood up and turned to bow briefly to their master. One of them unhooked a paddle which hung from his belt and handed it over to Kimar. It had a short handle and a wide, flat blade of thin, pliable, stiffened leather. The two capable assistants were now dismissed, as the master would no longer need their services. The Saxon slave would be his to do with as he would!
Kimar approached the upended miscreant from behind, beckoning me to his side. Quite deliberately, he placed a hand on the served-up buttocks, curving his fingers to fit the mounded crests. The feel of his hand sent his victim mewing into her gag, twitching her hips in anxious protest, the only movement left to her in her perilous situation. The continuing protest brought a smile to the weary face of the old slaver, who took his time feeling her up, running his hand over the twin contours, testing the firm resiliency of those generous asscheeks. Obviously pleased in contemplating the task he was about to undertake, the old slaver stepped back and stood eyeing the squirming behind while tapping his palm lightly with the paddle.
Now he took up his position behind and just to the left of the dangling legs, tapping the blade of the paddle squarely across the nicely presented bottom so that he was assured of the proper range to his target He smiled to see her buttocks cringe under the first light kiss of leather. Now he widened his stance, setting his heels in place. Slowly, he drew back the wicked paddle and with a sudden snap of his wrist sent it whipping toward the girl’s jutting bottom.
“Thwack!” The snapping blade splattered those gelatinous mounds, drawing a muffled yelp from the girl, who jerked upward on her bonds as the impact shuddered through her stretched-out form.
Now Kimar settled into a steady rhythm, spanking the slave girl-not hard, but with short, choppy strokes,
