slaves in the short hip-length tunics that were the livery of the house of Gratius. In the thick steamy perfumed air, the flimsy tunics had become moistly transparent, and the wet fabric clung to every contour of their hard young bodies. We had drunk a few cups of wine, and Gratius had grown expansive. I said little, only nodding now and then, while he went on, waxing philosophical. His monologue was on one of his favorite subjects: the pleasures of the flesh.
As he rambled on, I kept one eye on the fetchingly clad slaves, especially a tall, splendid girl, long-limbed, with raven black hair that fell to her shoulders, and a pair of the most startling blue eyes. She noticed my attention, and lowered her eyes, smiling slightly, as though not displeased at all by my obvious interest By now I was intimately familiar with all of Gratius’s slaves but I had never seen this one before, for surely I would have remembered her.
Not for the first time, Gratius was rhapsodizing on his favorite sport, the playful spanking of a delightful female behind, all the while idly watching the little slave whom I had last seen upended over his lap. This was Rhea, one of his favorites, and she was gathering up some towels. As she bent down, her tunic skirt slid up to lie wetly plastered over the top of her exposed buttocks. The gesture was enough to stop my host in mid-sentence. A sharp word of command caused the girl to freeze as she was, her trim rear end half-turned in our direction. It is the irresistible allure of a well-made bottom that appeals so invitingly to the hand, he explained, his gaze fixated on the elegant curve of the girl’s haunches, the seductive roundness of those pert twin mounds. To experience the fullest pleasure, the lecherous connoisseur continued, one must learn to absolutely savor the moment. So saying, he invited the bending Rhea to his lap. He would be glad to show me how it should be done properly, should I care to see a demonstration. I might even want to practice myself on one of the handy slaves, he continued; perhaps the new girl, Maya, he allowed, noting the obvious interest I had in the tall dark-haired slave.
Soon we were both seated with knees widespread on separate benches placed across from one another, with a slave girl sprawled over each lap. The raven-haired girl lay over my spread thighs so that her inverted head dangled down over my left leg, her long hair falling to the floor, while her extended legs angled down till her toes touched the floor on the right I felt her weight on my bare thighs, the press of a hip that rested solidly against my upstanding penis.
Gratius began by running his curved hand up and down the back of the girl’s bare legs; I followed suit, enjoying the smooth feel of those long tapering thighs, while Maya wiggled to get more comfortable. I watched him slip his hand up higher to ride up onto the little skirt and slowly rub the slippery fabric over the taut mounds, all the while brooding on the brevity of man’s life. Then the randy philosopher slid the thin fabric up and over the twin slopes, baring Rhea’s neat little bottom to his insatiable eyes. I thrilled at the pleasant prospect of unveiling the lovely swells of Maya’s upturned bottom. Firmly cupping a handsome cheek through the slippery silk, I gave her a reassuring squeeze. I smiled to see her asscheeks clench instinctively as I savored the feel of her hardened ass.
I spent several minutes squeezing and massaging those lovely rearmounds through the wispy damp fabric, watching them tighten and slacken, savoring the delicious feel of those soft, firm mounds, admiring the perfect symmetry of those lovely twin swells quivering under my hand. With delicate precision, I pinched the gauzy film away from her hips and held it between thumb and forefinger, exposing an elegant pair of rounded domes, smooth and sleek, and divided by a dark narrow center-crease. The fig of the girl’s pursed vulva, adorned with wispy tufts of black pussyfur, peeked out saucily from between her loose thighs. The sight sent a surge of shimmering excitement racing through me. I couldn’t resist bringing a finger up, lightly touching her there, getting a reflexive twitch of the hips as the girl shifted uneasily in my lap.
These were the preliminaries which Gratius assured me were of the utmost importance, the toying foreplay, so necessary to assure that the smoldering excitement would build in both the seated master and the laid-out slave. And so I spent some time playing leisurely with the slave girl’s naked ass, letting my host set the pace. I watched as he slid his flattened hand up to rest it firmly on the small of Rhea’s back, pinning her in place. I did likewise, spreading my knees to better balance the long-bodied girl’s languid weight, placing a hand on her back to steady her. I saw Maya’s butt muscles clench tight as the fearful slave girl tensed up in anticipation, the sleek sides of her cheeks hollowing out, the dark channel squeezed to a narrow slit. She knew what was about to come!
Together, my host and I raised our right hands. At his nod, we struck.
“Whap! Whap!” two shots rang out almost simultaneously and two girls bounded up, kicking up their heels and yelping in startled reflex. Before she had time to recover, I struck again, whacking Maya’s bottom with crisp authority, using the flat of my hand to deliver a glancing blow that set her rearmounds jiggling. 1 heard the girl cry out; her legs swinging up behind, scissoring the air frantically. I smacked her bounding bottom merrily again and again, relishing the bouncy resiliency of her jiggling assmounds.
The girl jerked forward with each impact, her legs kicking wildly now, while she twisted and squirmed across my lap. 1 immediately clamped my left hand down even harder on the small of her back, pinning her solidly in place across my open thighs while I spanked her soundly, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her quivering mounds as they danced under my repeated slaps.
I walloped the trembling swells with grim determination, watching them redden under the unrelenting assault. Maya was yelping now, each sharp cry punctuated by the resounding echo of a crisp slap as I smacked the quivering, blushing bottom mercilessly.
For a while, she tried to deflect the blows by twisting her hips. When that didn’t work, she tried to steel herself by tightening her cowering cheeks in anticipation. But under my steady smacking, she soon realized the futility of trying to resist. In time, she simply went limp, allowing her butt muscles to slacken, yielding to the continual assault, accepting her spanking with passive resignation.
After several exciting minutes spent walloping the slave girl’s delectable bottom, my hand was tingling, throbbing with a dull ache which forced me to stop and rest. I used the pause to admire my handiwork. The flushed cheeks of Maya’s handsome bottom throbbed with a rosy hue. I couldn’t resist caressing that well-spanked behind, savoring the pleasant warmth I had generated in her burning rear-end A plaintive whimper came from the inverted head of my long-legged slave girl, and she squirmed her hips in a sensual wiggle, signaling to me that the heat she was feeling as a result of the spanking was not confined to her bottom.
Chapter Six. A Day At The Races
As you might well imagine from the preceding passages, my first summer at Bernesium was not altogether unpleasant. I spent many a leisurely day whiling away my hours there while enjoying the many delights of the house of Gratius. My official duties were hardly burdensome, although we were called upon increasingly to provide additional patrols to escort the passing caravans of slavers. It seems that a particularly nasty little war had erupted with the always-contentious Scythians, closing the normal trade routes so that the slavers were forced to divert their caravans through the mountains and past Bernesium. As a result, slave caravans began arriving in town, sometimes as many as two or three a week The slavers would set up camp on a grassy plain just on the edge of town. They would have arrived weary and content to spend a few days resting and refreshing themselves and their charges after the grueling march through the mountains.
The arrival of a fresh batch of slaves was always an occasion of excitement for the town. While their masters rested, the training of the slaves continued unabated, and this provided a unique show indeed! A crowd of townspeople would gather eagerly on those warm summer afternoons to watch the slaves being exercised, sweating and straining as they were put through their paces under the firm hand of their strict overseers. This interest was especially high if the lot were being trained as sex slaves, as was the case whenever Kimar’s caravans came to town, for this worthy always had the prettiest slaves, and they were inevitably exercised wearing nothing but their high collars and the wide leather straps that banded their wrists and ankles.
The training began early and was continuous throughout the march. The young women must learn many things in order to be able to serve properly. They must learn to be obedient, to meet any need that might be placed on them. They must learn the etiquette, posture, and deportment expected of a well-trained slave. They must be taught to adopt the proper pose for presentation: to stand at attention with hands behind their necks, to kneel in offering. They must be taught to walk properly, and to step lively. I often saw girls being put through their paces, forced to run in circles, knees raised high, heads thrown back, chins held high, as they raced around the arena,
