[SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!] The eunuch spanked the little slave-girl as she cried, "Aah! Aah! Aah!" She was face-down over his lap, her bottom reddening under his hand.
Although he had been castrated, he was not immune to the attraction of having a naked preteen girl over his knee, spanking her warm, soft, round bottom. She could feel his rod stiffening at her waist, although she was not really conscious of it; her attention was focused on the sting of each spank, and the burn it left on her buttocks, and his otheru*attentions to her charms. While enjoying the feel of her little body writhing on his lap, he was primarily intent on his duties. He was not disciplining the little girl for any infraction, or molesting her for his pleasure alone; he was training her. The Master of the house intended for her to be skilled in the 'whip dance', despite her young age. Quintus, the eunuch in charge of the house slavegirls, had trained many over the years for this purpose.
His usual practice was to begin a girl's training with bare-hand spankings. Then he would advance to a leathern strap of some sort, and finally the single-tail whip. Interspersed throughout he would manually stimulate the girl's cleft and clitoris, to associate sexual sensations with her discipline. As her training advanced he would gradually withdraw the use of his hand, until only the whip touched her intimate areas. The instruction would last for a few years, such that, if a girl was given to him as a preteen, by the time she was a young teenager she would be fully trained in the whip dance, able to orgasm readily even as she writhed and cried out from the sting of the whip.
He also trained them to service. He was not permitted to use them sexually himself, as the Master preferred them to be completely virgin when first used by himself or one of his guests. But he insisted that they be trained as much as possible. So it was with this little girl, Sarah was her name. Although she was only ten years old, Quintus had all ready begun instructing her to orally service a master, and to be taken anally, using a cucumber for a tool.
He continued her discipline, [SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!]. As she moaned and wriggled from the sting of Quintus' hand spanking her bare bottom, she was becoming increasingly aware of the tingle developing between her legs. Quintus would seize and pinch and twist her cleftlips and clitoris about every third or fourth spank. Sometimes he would even spank her directly on her unfledged sex as she cried out wildly. He did not succeed in bringing her to orgasm that time, but he knew he would soon; in his professional opinion she was moreu*responsive than many of the little girls he had trained. He let her up off his lap, and chuckled as she danced in place, rubbing her reddened bottom and vulva.
He took a cucumber from a basket. It was fairly small, about the size of a twelve-year-old boy's erect penis. He handed it to her. "Kneel down, little one, and suck on it like I've showed you," he commanded. Still sniffling, she obeyed, wrapping her lips around the surrogate manhood, sucking and bobbing her head. "Good, good, that's very good, Sarah!" He took the cucumber from her mouth. "Now turn around and put your elbows on the mat." She shuffled around on her knees and bent over, trembling. He put the tip at her anus. Despite her training she couldn't keep herself from pulling away, putting a hand out to stop him. "Now, Sarah, you know better than that," he said sorrowfully, as he took a strap off a hook on the wall and pulled her back over his lap.
[THWACK-THWACK-THWACK!] He swung the strap against her all ready reddened bottom as she shrieked and wailed. After five strokes he let her up. Sarah rubbed her bottom and sobbed convulsively.
"Now we'll try again, shall we?" he said, in a kindly tone. She quickly knelt down and put her striped bottom in the air, trembling, her anus clenching visibly. Quintus reached around with the cucumber and put it to her lips. "Better make it wet again," he told her, and she wrapped her lips around it, trying to get as much spit from her mouth as she could, dry as it was from distress and anxiety.
He placed the tip once more against her anus. She didn't pull away, but trembled violently. He pushed slowly, but firmly, driving through her clenched sphincter, violating her anus and rectum with the tool as she moaned and cried out. He reached around her and manipulated her cleftlips and clitoris. Soon her little hips were rockingu*
Finally he pulled it out and tossed it away as she struggled to her feet and donned the slaveshift he handed back to her, red-faced, clearly embarrassed. "You are doing well, little Sarah," he pronounced, and smiled at her. She shyly smiled back. "Don't forget to try to relax and even enjoy it. The more you enjoy it, the better you will be at the whip dance and at service. And the better you are at that, the more the Master will reward you, and the easier your life will be."
Sarah nodded, and said, "Thank you, Quintus," and scurried back to her quarters. Naturally she wasu*conflicted. No child likes a spanking, of course, although Quintus' spanks usually left only a faint redness that faded slowly; by the time she was doing the whip dance, however, she would have to endure punishment that left welts. All though she barely acknowledged it even to herself, she enjoyed the stimulation from his molestation of her preteen charms, and almost longed for her next spanking so that she could feel it again. Even the cucumber in her anus wasn't really so bad, once she got used to it, especially when Quintusu*touched her. Lately she had taken to masturbating on her little cot at night, stifling the soft cries she would otherwise have made, so that the other slavegirls wouldn't hear her. Of course, some of them were doing the same, and not all of them were so demure!
But there was a part of her that was deeply distressed by all this. She was originally from Jerusalem, having been taken captive by the Romans at the time of the destruction of the Temple; she had been fortunate not to have been slaughtered as so many other Jews were at that time.
She had all ready lost her parents. Her father she never knew; her mother had died shortly after she was born, leaving her in the care of a distant relative who paid little attention to her. Left to her own devices most of the time, providentially she had briefly come under the influence of followers of The Way, and had even converted. But in the turmoil of the Roman invasion she knew not what had happened to them.
After her capture in Jerusalem she had been taken to Rome, where she had been sold to the household of a powerful Senator, Vergillius Britannicus, and given into the keeping of Quintus, the eunuch. Even though, because she was an orphan, and a girl, and very young, she had not received the training in the Law that many Jewish children were given, and the followers of The Way had not had time to instruct her in all the rules for moral living, she had a vague sense that it was wrong for her to be sexually misused by a man to whom she was not married. But she was a slave, and powerless to resist. And Quintus, in the main, was kind to her. So, even though she feltu*naughty, she continued to try to please him, and longed to be pleasured as well.
Britannicus was well-known for his Bacchanalia, and was particularly fond of the whip dance; he always had a dozen or so slavegirls ready to perform. Powerful men, and not a few women, vied to attend his gatherings, where the entertainment was sou*stimulating, and slavegirls were parceled out to his guests for theiru*use.
Not all of Vergillius Britannicus' acquaintances approved, of course, but he was a powerful Senator, and many men of politics and commerce had to deal with him, perforce. Marcus Germanus was one such man. He had been an officer in the Legion, serving directly under the Legatus himself, highly decorated, and was now a prominent citizen of Rome. Through some of his brother officers he had become interested in The Way as well, though he was not attached to any group of followers. Because of this, and his own straight upbringing, he was uneasy with the debauched lifestyle of so many around him, but could not avoid it completely.
Compelled by the exigencies of commerce, he accepted an invitation to one of Britannicus' orgies. There he saw the whip dance for the first time. A part of him was repelled by the cruelty it represented. He watched almost in spite of himself, as the young teen girlslave on the platform writhed and cried out, totally nude, the whip, wielded by an impassive, but muscular and well-endowed male slave, leaving angry red lines and welts on her thighs and buttocks, and her small breasts that heaved as she moaned, and then finally snapping with stroke after stroke full upon her depilated cleft. She wailed and nearly screamed, but even as she did so she was clearly approaching climax, her hips rocking, her cries becoming hoarser and hoarser, until she orgasmed in front of the assembled guests, to their mocking laughter and applause. She was led off the platform into the hands of a Senator to whom Britannicus owed a favor. He towed the sobbing girl, all ready molesting her charms, off to a nearby chamberu*
But a part of Marcus Germanus was nearly enthralled as he watched. Unbidden, his memory wandered backu*
[WHAP!] "AAAAH!" his 'little girl' cried out as the whip snapped against her small, high breasts, and "OOO-OOO-OOO!" as he whipped her repeatedly, on her buttocks, her thighs, front and back, and even swinging the whip between her legs to smack full upon her unfledged cleft, gleaming between her pale thighs as she writhed and moaned. He tossed the implement aside and took her in his hands, molesting her charms, pinching and twisting her nipples, kneading and working her breasts, sliding down, down, to the core of her being. He caressed and hefted her cleftlips, noting the moisture, saying, "It's naughty to be so wet there, isn't it, little one?" and gave her a sharp spank to her vulva as she yelped. Then he probed her deeply, fiercely, hearing her cries, feeling her hips rocking and rocking, then enjoying it so as his 'little girl' came in his hands. Even as her cries died away to soft coos, he put her down on the couch on her elbows and knees, and took her from behind, thru sting powerfully into her as she cried out hoarsely, then emptied himself at her cervix as she shook and moaned.
Then he and his young wife took themselves off to the baths!
Theirs had been such a satisfying love. She had willingly given herself to him at fourteen, a slender, pretty young teen girl. He was delighted to find that she seemed to enjoy being 'punished' as his 'little girl' as much as he enjoyed disciplining her.
But it had ended too soon, too soon. She was taken from him in childbirth, as so many women were in those days of ignorance concerning antisepsis, the child dying with her.
He went nearly mad for a while, and threw himself into his duties with the Legion. But madness can be a help in combat, and he was successful, and rewarded richly, and now he was a 'rising star' in Rome, unattached, seemingly devoted to his commerce, ignoring the many offers of marriage from prominent families and unattached, freeborn women.
His reveries were interrupted as he heard Britannicus call for more slavegirls to be brought to the Bacchanalia. He watched as they were trooped in, in numbers sufficient for the two dozen or so guests present. Most were teenagers or young women, but one was younger.
When the call for more slavegirls to be brought was heard, Sarah happened to be out of her quarters on an errand for Quintus. Usually he kept the girls still in training 'out of circulation', with his Master's consent. He had found thatu*'usage' too young interfered with his regimen, and had prevailed upon Britannicus to spare them from his revelry. But Quintus was not present when another slavehandler swept Sarah up, along with a number of older girls, to be brought to the guests.
Marcus' attention was immediately drawn to little Sarah. She was trembling, tears leaking from her eyes, clearly deeply distraught. It was bad enough to have to endure molestation at Quintus' hands, but at least she trusted him not to hurt her too badly, at least not yet, and knew he would not rape her, after all. She had no idea how horribly she would be abused, now, and only her inexperience and relative innocence spared her from even worse anxiety.
Britannicus began to parcel out the slavegirls to his guests, dealing jocularly with the shouted demands and waving hands, as they competed to receive this one or that one. Marcus suddenly realized that he could not bear the thought of the little girl falling into the hands of any of the other guests, to be debauched in who knew how depraved a manner. He brusquely shouldered to the front and seized Sarah by the arm as she shrank back. She saw a tall, dark, lean man, grim-faced. She was panicky, but helpless to avoid him. But there was something about the look in his eyeu*
"I'll take this one," Marcus growled, and led her off as the assembly gaped for a moment. Britannicus raised an eyebrow and smirked. Then the clamor renewed as each guest pointed out a girl, bickering at any disagreements.
Marcus towed the whimpering Sarah off to the rooms given to him for the festivities. Once inside he sat down on a couch and took her by the shoulders, looking into her tear-filled eyes. "Don't be afraid, little one," he said, "I'm not going to hurt you." She just looked at him, as if she didn't understand. "What's your name?" he asked. He had to repeat the question.
"S-Sarah, M'Lord," she managed to stammer out.
"Ah. You're a Hebrew, then. I served in Palestine for a while. Come sit with me, and tell me how you came to be in Rome."
Skillfully he drew her out, learning all of her short, sad life. She left nothing out, even the details of her training at Quintus' hands, her reactions to it, and the dread she felt about her future. He pulled her onto his lap and just held her for a while, rubbing her back, trying to soothe away her anxiety, enjoying the feel of her warm, slender body, trembling on his knees. He fought down the hardening of his manhoodu*
He had avoided any emotional attachments since his wife had died. Now he found himself strangely drawn to this little slave girl. Part of him longed to throw her over his lap, spank her, molest her, rape her slender nakedness. Part of him longed to protect her, cherish her, love her. And part of him smoldered with anger against Britannicus, and the rest of Roman society that would so callously abuse her, as well as so many other children.
He left her in his chambers and sought out his host. He offered to buy Sarah, but he found his host seemingly reluctant. He quickly realized he'd made a tactical error: by displaying his eagerness he had put himself in Britannicus' power, to some extent. So he 'played along' with the delaying tactics, displaying irritation and disappointment at being told to wait, to ask again in the morning, Britannicus had to think about it. He knew Britannicus intended to try to extract some concession from him.
He returned to his chambers. Sarah, like the little child that she was, had fallen asleep waiting for him. Her skimpy, disheveled slaveshift had slipped off a shoulder, and ridden up her thighs. One nipple, barely breaking the plane of her chest, was exposed, as were her slender thighs, and even the nether edge of her unfledged cleftlips. She was altogether adorable to him. He gently lay down beside her, his arms around heru*
In the middle of the night his soldier's senses brought him awake. He was aware of the presence of someone in the room. His hand groped for his dagger hanging on his belt by the bed. Suddenly a lamp was uncovered and he saw a man dressed as a slave just inside the door. "Don't be alarmed, m'Lord. I am Quintus, one of the slavemasters. If you please, I must speak with you."
Gently disengaging himself from Sarah, who had charmingly wrapped her arms around him in sleep, he arose. "What is it?" he inquired.
"Forgive me, m'Lord Marcus, but I couldn't help observing. Sarah should not have been brought to the Bacchanalia, but I was unable to prevent it. I arrived too late, and could only watch from the side.
"I saw you take her out. Again, forgive me m'Lord, but she is so small, and so inexperiencedu*I couldn't help but try to watch out for her. You may be unaware, but there are spy holes in all these chambers, so that Master Britannicus can observe any of his guests at any time."
"It's what I would expect from him," Marcus dryly replied.
"Yes, m'Lord. So, of course, I saw you and little Sarah. It seems to me that you care for her, and don't want her hurt. Now I must ask you to help her, and all the slavegirls here. You see, I and some of the other older slaves have becomeu*disenchanted with Master Britannicus. Weu*well, we don't have much time, now, before the soldiers arrive, so I'll be brief. We have poisoned him. And you know what that means." Quintus looked pointedly at Marcus.
Only Marcus' soldier's training and experience kept him from expressing the shock and dismay he felt. Not at the death of Britannicusu*"Torture and crucifixion for all the household slaves," he dispassionately replied.
"Yes, m'Lord. I and a few of the others areu*resigned to that fate, if we can rid Rome of Britannicus. But there is Sarah, and the other young slavegirls. Britannicus has given me much authority over the years; I have used that to arrange a covered wagon. It is now at the back gates. If you will, m'Lord, I beg of you to take Sarah and the other slavegirls in the wagon and go, now, before it's too late. We others will stay behind. With slaves left to blame, they will not bother to see if any are missing," Quintus finished.
There was no question in Marcus' mind what to do. He felt little or no responsibility to uphold the barbaric practice of putting the entire household of slaves to a cruel death because of the actions of only a few, and he was not entirely sure he disapproved of the murder of Britannicus at all. "Yes, of course I will," he replied steadily.
A hard, long look passed between them. A brief wish passed through Marcus' mind that things could have been different, that he could have known Quintus as a friend.
But there was no time. Quickly he gathered up the sleepy Sarah and hustled her and the other slavegirls, who had all ready been alerted by Quintus, into the wagon, the oxen all ready in harness, blowing and stamping. Reminding his charges to be quiet, he urged the beasts forward. Soon he was well clear of Britannicus' estate. In the distance he could hear the tramp of soldiers' feetu*
He kept the other slavegirls at his residence for the few days necessary to arrange to have them quietly parceled out to households he knew well, all with good reputations, not given to the debauchery so common in the rest of Roman society. Sarah, of course, he kept with him.
He gave her a few days to become accustomed to her new circumstance. He had few slaves, and gave orders to the one who served as his main housekeeper to simply watch over the girl, provide for her needs, and make no other demands upon her.
Then he called her to him. "Now what am I to do with you, little Sarah?" he asked.
She hung her head for a moment, then peeped up at him shyly through her lashes. "Am I not to beu*of service to you, M'Lord?" she whispered.
He looked at her for a long moment. He found that he could not resist. "Yes. Yes, you are," he replied hoarsely. He swept her up in his arms and held her close. She clung to him, shivering. He whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, little one, don't worry. If anything I do isu*too much, all you have to do is say 'no' or 'ow' or 'stop' or 'don't', and I'll stop. All right?"
After a long beat she nodded almost violently, her face buried in his neck. He slid her gently down, over his lap, and tossed up the hem of her slaveshift. He began to spank her, sharply, but not too hard, each smack making her little buttocks jiggle, her little legs to kick, soft cries to spring from her lips. In between spanks he would slide his fingers between her legs to caress her unfledged cleftlips and clitoris as her cries grew hoarser and hoarser. Soon her little hips were rocking on his lap, pressing down onto his swelling rod, and soon he was treated to the sight and sound of a sweet little preteen girl orgasming as he spanked and molested her.
Even as she moaned and sobbed out the last of her climax, she slipped off his lap and knelt between his legs. She laid her head for a few moments against his knee as he caressed her silky brown hair. Then she looked up with a shy, but almost mischievous look. "Master, may Iu*service you?" she asked softly.
Marcus gaped for a moment, but managed to croak out an affirmative answer. The little girl pushed aside his toga and his manhood sprang forth, rampant, a drop of his semen all ready forming at the opening of his urethra. She took him in her mouth as she had been trained, caressing and sucking, bobbing her little head up and down.
Under the circumstances, it naturally took him next to no time to climax. Though she had never experienced it, she had been schooled to expect the rush of hot liquid, and to strive to swallow it. So even as he came, he was treated to the sight and sound of a darling little preteen slavegirl with a well-spanked bottom convulsively gulping down his seed as he groaned out a thoroughly top-notch orgasm. When he was done he withdrew from her mouth and swept her up in his arms, hugging and rocking her, whispering endearments in her ear as she melted into his embrace.
Over the next few weeks they grew close. When he returned home from attending to his affairs she would be waiting for him, taking his sandals, washing his feet, bringing him meat and drink. He treated her tenderly, thanking her for her service, often taking her on his lap as they sat in front of the firelight to tell her tales of some of the wonders he had seen, or stories about heroes and the monsters they fought.
Nights she would spend in his chamber. He spanked her, or whipped her with a leather strap, frequently, but always gently. He made a pretense that he was giving her 'discipline', though in truth she gave him no cause to punish her. He would put her over his knee and caress her, relishing the feel of her smooth, soft bottom and thighs, slipping his hand between the cheeks to trace over her cleftlips and anus as she quivered and sighed. Her buttocks would jiggle prettily as he spanked her, bringing the faint flush to her bottom, her little legs kicking a bit. He would part her thighs and smack her sharply, but not hard, directly on her anus and vulva as she yelped and moaned. Then would come the soothing caresses, the gentle yet insistent pinching and twisting of her cleftlips and clitoris, interspersed with a few more sharp spanks, as her little hips bucked and rocked almost of their own accord, and she would orgasm noisily in his hands.
She serviced him nearly every night, her soft lips wrapped around his manhood as he groaned and emptied himself in her mouth. Ofttimes, after a short interval, he would discipline her again, perhaps standing her up with her hands clasped behind her head, while he admired the view: a slender, olive-skinned and brown-haired preteen princess in exile, her breasts mere buds topped by nipples that barely broke the plane of her chest, slim boyish hips, and her unfledged girlcleft with prominent clitoris framed by her gleaming thighs. She was altogether adorable. He would swing the leather strap across her chest, disciplining her on her breastbuds and nipples as she cried out and the faint red streaks appeared. Then across the front of her thighs as she danced in place. Then finally full upon her mons, cleftlips, and clitoris, her cries becoming more and more impassioned, until finally he would seize her moistening vulva, molesting her fiercely yet lovingly, driving her over the to p as she yelped and came. Then he would sweep her in his arms for a long, loving embrace.
After one such 'session' she astonished him. She slipped out of his arms and took his manhood out from the folds of his clothing. He had all ready emptied himself in her mouth earlier, but he was hard again from the sight, sound, and feel of his precious preteen slavegirl orgasming from her 'punishment'. She again took him in her mouth, but only long enough to make him fully hard, and wet with her own spit. Then she climbed on the couch, turned around, and presented him her naked bottom, anus bared and clenching in the breeze, trembling, waiting.
He could not resist. He put his rampant rod against her bottomflower and worked it in as she moaned with each push. Finally he was buried within her, thrusting and thrusting as she cried out hoarsely, he reveling in the feel of his manhood violating her preteen anus, so tight, so warm, clenching spasmodically on his rod; she both distressed and somehowu*satisfied to be so invaded. In only a few minutes he was emptying himself within her rectum, groaning, collapsing on the couch next to her, holding her tight in his arms, kissing her, loving her. She sobbed a bit, but clung to him, burying her face against him.
The next morning he took her on his lap and spoke to her. "Little Sarah, I would like to make you my wife, if you are willing."
"Oh, yes, m'Lord Marcus, yes, oh yes!" she replied excitedly. Nothing he said could have pleased her more. She knew that meant he would rape her completely, but he all ready had taken the virginity of her mouth and anus. Some part of her knew she should be distressed, scared, panicked. But another part of her, the 'naughty' part, longed to be his completely.
There were no complications. In those days there was no age limit on marriage. A young girl's only protection from abuse and exploitation was her family, as it has been throughout almost all of human history. Sarah had none. As far as anyone knew she was Marcus Germanus' slave, to do with as he wished, and, while some of his 'noble' acquaintances might have sneered at his soft-heartedness, it was not unheard-of for a loving master to elevate his beloved slavegirl to the status of wife.
So, after a brief ceremony, Sarah was back in her master's and husband's arms, naked, feeling his hands roam over her slender sweetness, pinching and twisting her nipples as she gasped and moaned, smacking her bottom and thighs a few times, then diving between her legs to seize her girlhood, all ready moistening in expectation. He put her on the couch on her elbows and knees and strapped her bottom, her clenching anus, and her cleftlips again and again as she cried out wildly, the faint red streaks springing up.
He paused and held her in his arms, caressing and soothing her, kissing her and receiving her sweet, butterfly kisses in return, pressing against her cleftlips and clitoris as she pushed her pelvis against his hand. Then he arranged her on her back, knees up and then apart, her cleft fully bared to his avid gaze. Despite the fact that he had had free reign of her preteen charms for some time, she still blushed to know that she was so exposed to him. But all such thoughts were driven from her mind as he brought the strap down to sharply smack against her unfledged girlhood again and again, as she cried out wildly, bucking and yelping, but still keeping her thighs apart to receive her strict, intimate discipline.
Once her inner thighs, her mons, and her cleftlips were fetchingly reddened, he tossed the strap aside and fastened his mouth on to her sex. She went nearly rigid at the sensation of his lips and tongue rasping over her tender, punished girlhood. He penetrated her with his tongue, driving in towards her hymen, pushing the tip hard against the small opening as she yipped, then took her clitoris in a long, excruciating bite between tongue and teeth, working it, releasing it and letting it snap back then seizing it again, rasping his tongue roughly over it, as her moans and cries became more and more impassioned, her hips bucked more and more uncontrollably, until finally she was coming and coming, shouting, pulling at his hair, then pressing his head with her little hands even harder against her girlhood, finally collapsing back on the couch, shaking and sobbing.
He slid onto the couch next to her and cradled her in his arms for a few moments as she clung to him, shaking, sobbing yet somehow almost chuckling at the same time, her slender body pressed against his, her pelvis still pushing against his thigh in slow, circular motions.
He could resist no longer. He lay over her, his muscular soldier's frame dwarfing her slender preteen body. He put his rod against her underdeveloped cleft, still wet from his mouth, and thrust sternly, driving for her cervix, raping her of her maidenhead as she yelled once, loudly, then wept softly, shoulders shaking, as he lay still for the moment, buried within her, pulsating, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head as she sobbed.
Finally her distress died down to the occasional sob and sniffle, and he resumed raping her, with long, firm, and fast strokes, pinning her to the couch with each thrust as she yelped. She bucked and rocked beneath him as he pounded into her, grinding his pubic bone against her clitoris, finally climaxing with a groan and a shout, emptying himself at her cervix, then collapsing with her on the bed, rocking and hugging her, kissing and nuzzling her, as she kissed him back between her sobs and moans.
And they lived happily ever after...
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