by Syra Bond
A young man, dark-haired and handsome, ran up to the enclosure carrying a flask of oil and a shallow basin. He was naked except for a tightly-pulled cloth, drawn up between his legs and tied off around his slim waist. Fronto beckoned him to approach and he stepped athletically over the hurdle barrier.
'Master,' he said slightly out of breath.
'Drusus. I want you to help this slave clean up the boxer, oil him and make him sweet so that my lady can approach him without offence.'
Caristia looked up at the young man, her head still filled with the giddy scent of the boxer and her mind dazzled by the images that closeness to his body had conjured up in her. His elegant beauty distracted her from the animal attraction of the massive boxer and the pictures that filled her mind were replaced with an image of youthful beauty. Drusus's full lips and steely blue eyes beguiled her and his tousled dark hair and short growth of beard made her mouth dry. He looked down at her and though he could not speak - it was more than his life was worth - somehow he managed to pass her a message of intimate complicity. It was as if their eyes passed mutual messages, as if speech was irrelevant, as if the rest of the world was untrained in their new method of communication.
Drusus knelt beside Caristia and handed her the basin. She stretched out her hands, imagining she was stretching them to encircle him, to wrap her arms around him and pull him down on top of her. She could tell he felt the same. He emptied the flask of oil into the basin. It ran from the spout in a gush, splashing into the shallow curve of the bowl and flowing up its edges before settling back into a dense pool of gold. He dipped a cloth into the bowl and scooped up some of the golden oil. She watched it drip as he reached out to the boxer's chest and rubbed the liquid into the bronzed, sweating skin. The sharp, slightly metallic scent of the oil mixed with the heady scent of the boxer and drifted down onto Caristia as if she had been lifted into a heavenly cloud. She trembled as she held out the bowl and bit her lips when Drusus again dipped the cloth into the shallow pool of fluid gold.
Remaining on her knees, Caristia rubbed the oil into the boxer's body, stretching up to reach his chest where Drusus had started and dropping her buttocks down onto the backs of her heels as she worked downwards. Some of the oil ran down her arms, into her armpits, onto her breasts then, urged on by her movements, down between her legs. All the time she watched Drusus and she knew that, whenever he had a chance, he also stole a glance at her. She rubbed the insides of the boxer's muscular thighs, reaching her oil-soaked hands around his testicles, embrocating them, feeling their weight, then circling her fingers around his cock, massaging it, pulling it, teasing it until, as she held it in her hands, she felt it thickening and extending.
The boxer's cock lengthened under her touch, its skin tightening over the throbbing veins and its glans swelling as she cradled it. She drew her face against it and let its pulsating beats heat her cheeks and she opened her mouth, still looking at Drusus and wishing it was him, as she prepared to take the now fully stiff cock between her open lips.
'Your little servant has done a fine job, lady. Indeed she has brought life about where her mistress failed.'
Arria Sulla's face darkened at the insult. For a moment she stared at Caristia, her slave, her belonging, holding the oiled cock near to her open mouth then, as if seized by a fit, she kicked out at the girl, knocking her over onto her side. Drusus stepped back as Arria Sulla kicked out again at Caristia, now bringing her legs up and folding her arms around her waist to protect herself.
'Still she gets the better of you, lady. See how easily she avoids your rightful punishment. It is almost as though this possession of yours is mistress herself.'
Arria Sulla pursed her lips, stamped her foot and screeched for her Nubians. They ran to her side as, unable to control herself, her face reddened.
'Take the girl!' she screamed. 'Take her and bind her so that she cannot avoid her punishment! Bind her!' The Nubians looked around, unsure what to do. 'Use anything!' screeched Arria Sulla. 'Just do as I order!' They dragged over one of the heavy hurdles from the barrier and set it down in the centre of the ring. 'Yes that. Bind her to that!' she ranted.
They lifted the cowering Caristia from the ground, turning her to face downwards before placing her lengthwise along the sharp upper edge of the crossbeam. She pulled herself away from it as her weight fell against its rim but one of the black slaves held her firmly with his hand and her wriggling only caused her more pain. The other Nubian ran to the side of the ring and undid some thin leather thongs that bound together one of the hurdles, dipped them in a water bowl to make them supple, then began securing Caristia to the hurdle. He bound her hands to the two front legs and her ankles to the other two, then while the other black slave kept the weight of his hand on her back, he bound her by the waist to the crossbeam. The weight of her body and the pressure of the tight bonds pulled her hard against the harsh edge of the timber beam. She hung her face to the side as it dug in between her breasts, down the centre of her stomach, then most painful of all, it ran between the open lips of her sex, nipping the tip of her clitoris before parting her outer labia wide.
She turned her head sideways and saw Drusus standing, holding the bowl of oil. He smiled at her, a secretive smile of alliance, and the idea of his sympathy filled her stomach with a thrill of nervous anxiety. A short piece of wood with cords at each end was pulled across her mouth and, as she bit down onto it, the cords were pulled tightly around the back of her head and knotted.
'Now bring something that will made her buttocks sting,' shouted Arria Sulla, still red-faced and angry. 'I want the impudent slave to suffer. I want her to beg for it to stop. There! Over there! Those sticks they are using to fight each other. Use one of those.'
The Nubians fetched two of the sticks and offered them for Arria Sulla's approval. She nodded insistently, wanting the punishment to get underway. Fronto took one of the sticks and held it up, knowing he could easily irritate Arria Sulla by delay.
'A fine cane,' he said, twisting it slowly between his fingers. 'Bamboo. Brought from the east in the land they call China. See how it flexes and yet, at the same time, it is strong enough to resist too much bending. Look at the raised knuckles along its length - hard and unyielding rings that strike the skin like a gouging thumb.'
He rested the tip on the ground and held the cane against his side, measuring its length before holding it up and whipping it through the air. It swished loudly, bending only slightly even though he slashed it down as fast as he could.
'Just get on with it,' insisted Arria Sulla as another of her Nubians brought her a chair to sit on. She opened the front of her skirt as she sat, exposing her dark, carefully trimmed pubic hair to the glint of the sun. 'Get on with it! I want to hear her scream!'
Fronto smiled, passed the cane back to the Nubian and turned to Arria Sulla.
'It will be interesting to see your little slave beg, though I do not know if she will be begging for her punishment to stop.'
He smirked and stood behind her chair.
The Nubians stood on each side of Caristia, each holding one of the bamboo canes diagonally across his chest. Arris Sulla nodded to one of them and he stood back and lifted the cane above his shoulder, twisting the tip high into the air before bringing it down swiftly onto Caristia's waiting bottom. She tightened herself as she heard it sweeping through the air. She brought her buttocks together and tensed herself, and the insides of her thighs dug into the sharp edges of the beam and the centre of her sex ached more as the harsh contact of the top edge against her clitoris increased. She saw Drusus looking down at her and again felt the tingling of anxious joy as she was aroused by his concern, then she tightened her eyes together in an involuntary wince as the swishing sound stopped and was replaced with a sudden smacking thud.
The cane struck both her buttocks across their centre. She was so exposed, tied across the beam of timber, that nothing hindered the contact; it was full, direct and excruciating. Her mouth opened as the brea
th was knocked from her and, in the instant it took for the pain to shoot throughout her whole body, bubbles of foaming saliva ran from her wide lips. The servant held the cane there for a moment, as if allowing it to regain its power, or to pass on any pain that was left in it, then when he lifted it away and the strip of skin it had struck was exposed to the air, the stinging pain increased. It was like fire, as if she was being branded, and she gulped for air.
She held her breath, keeping herself tight and listened again as the second blow came down. It was harder than the first, slightly lower and against even tenderer skin, and the angle it made against her caused her, in an involuntary reflex, to rear back. But there was no give in her bonds, nowhere to rear back to, and her action only pressed her more against the harsh edge of timber. Again she was saturated with pain but, as the cane lifted away and she waited for the next, her stomach filled with an expectation which, although tinged with the excitement of fear, was built from the delicious expectation of increased suffering.
She opened her eyes and looked at Drusus. He was still staring at her and his compassion, his loving sympathy, filled her with a novel, overwhelming sensation. She had never felt it before, but she knew what it was, and she allowed her whole self to soak into his eyes as the bamboo swept down for a third time. Again it found a different spot, a little lower still, almost at the faint crease between her bottom and the tops of her thighs. It stung even more deeply, mingling as it did with the previous blows, which were still reverberating along her nerves. She felt she could scream but now she knew it would only be for more, and she stared at Drusus and opened her mouth wide. Even though she felt it, this time it was not as an expression of pain but an expression of desire, a reciprocation of his own loving stare. She could do nothing more, she felt completely exposed to him and only hoped that with each subsequent blow, with each increase in her delectable suffering, he would see that all the desires within her were for him.
Each time the burning cane struck her bottom, each time it laid another red stripe across her tender skin, she strained against her unyielding bonds and the tension she created - contained inside her tortured body - fed her ever-growing passion. Each thump of the swishing stick, each smack of its knuckled length, drove her further into an ecstasy of pain, its ultimate end already declaring its power as it fought against the immovability of her body. The only change in her position was the contact her sex made with the edge of the diagonal bar. The swelling of her labia and the engorging of her clitoris pressed her flesh tighter against the beam, and the more the pressure and pain increased, the more her soft flesh swelled and the more her throbbing clitoris extended and crushed against the hard surface.
Arria Sulla told the black servant to step back so that the other one could take over. His blows were harder, more vicious, and he struck not only Caristia's thighs but her back and shoulders. Still she did not scream and, even though she blinked longer than normal, allowing the images in her mind to fill her completely, she kept her gaze on Drusus, showing him her wetness and the bliss of her pain. When the other Nubian was ordered to join in and they both rained a storm of alternate blows down on her agonized body, she felt her orgasm running through her, setting her on fire and consuming her with a blaze of ecstasy.
She watched Drusus all the time as her tightly secured body filled with bliss and the continuing blows caused the zenith of her final pleasure to persist at an unending peak.
'I think your little slave is gaining more from her punishment than she is learning, my lady,' said Fronto mockingly.
'Stop!' shouted Arria Sulla to her slaves. 'Stop the beating!' She looked around wildly for some other way of punishing her victim. She saw a heavy punch bag used by the boxers for training and ordered Caristia tied to it. The Nubians held the still jerking girl face forward against the leather bag, wrapped her arms around the top and secured them to the rope from which the bag hung. They drew her knees as far around the bag as they could, joining them with a length of rope before drawing her feet back and securing them on the opposite side of the heavy bag.
As soon as Caristia felt the smooth, sweat-shone leather against her splayed sex lips her orgasm started again. It was as though her body still had to bring it out, as though her joy had set in train something unstoppable. She gripped herself against the punch bag, pressing her wet face against the shiny leather and squeezing her open cunt flatly against the bulky bag to which she was secured. The smell of the leather filled her nostrils and again an aching grew deep within her groin. Arria Sulla ordered the Nubians to spank her with their bare hands and, as soon as the first smacking blow landed, her persisting orgasm surged through her in a fresh wave and drove her into an uncontrollable grasping spasm. It collected all the pent up desire that had been held back when she was tied to the timber beam and released it as though a dam had burst. As she pulled herself against the punch bag and released the wave of bliss she groaned loudly. The punch bag swung from side to side as the Nubians spanked her bottom. She tightened herself against it as much as her bonds would allow, rubbing her wet labia against the leather, pressing her hard clitoris fully against it, bending her knees and pulling up her ankles as though she was on the bare back of a galloping stallion. The spanking continued unabated, striking her sore bottom, smacking loudly with each blow and, all the time, her orgasm persisted, burning her like flames licking from an unquenchable fire of joy.
Fronto was still teasing the angry Arria Sulla when they took Caristia down. Still jerking with the remnant convulsions of her ecstasy she lay on the ground with her arms pulled up over her breasts and her legs bent so that her knees touched her elbows. Fronto's teasing turned to affection and he calmed Arria Sulla, stroking first her hair and forehead then, as her tension eased and she began to respond to his attention, running his hand between her legs and touching her sex. He ordered all the slaves to wait in the colonnaded area and Caristia was dragged roughly across the ground by the Nubians. They let her go as if they were delivering a sack and she slumped against one of the ribbed columns of the covered terrace.
She put her hands between her legs and felt her sex lips, the swollen flesh soft and silky and wet. She caressed with her fingers and their tips slid inside without any pressure. She felt the pulsating tip of her clitoris and as soon as she made contact with it, it started to beat and swell again. Drusus was standing by and she looked up at him. He was tall and his eyes shone like green crystals in the half-light beneath the covered colonnade. He looked back at her, but as soon as their eyes met he looked away, afraid they might be seen and afraid Caristia would be punished again. Caristia looked away too, not because of fear but in deference to her paramour.
She watched Fronto leading Arria Sulla into a wooden shelter used by athletes to store javelins. As a penance given them by their trainer because of their poor performance, a group of young men were scourging themselves with whips and Caristia could see that Arria Sulla could not take her eyes from them. Caristia's mistress leant against the side of the shelter, her elegant body bent slightly back as she watched the young men through a slit in the wall. Fronto pulled her arms back and draped them over a javelin he held parallel to the ground. She allowed him to bend her arms, not helping him but not resisting, and she opened her lips slightly as he bent her elbows over the javelin and pulled her hands back to her stomach where he tied them with cord. She dropped her head back a little but did not take her eyes from the naked young men. Fronto lifted her skirt and tucked the hem between the tightly held javelin and the dipping curve of the small of her back. Her smooth-skinned bottom was exposed to his view and he knelt behind it, running his hands across her smooth, rounded buttocks, then when he had stared at it enough, licking it slowly with his tongue.
Caristia could see the glint of his saliva on Arria Sulla's cheeks as Fronto trailed his tongue slowly across her skin. The sight of her mistress bound like a slave to the javelin, being licked by another of her class, filled Caristia with shivers of excitement. She looked at Dr
usus and her shivers of joy turned to a sudden shudder that caused her to shrug involuntarily and draw her shoulders up. She licked her lips, looking again at Arria Sulla who was now - although still fixated by the men as they punished themselves with the leather flails - tipping her bottom towards Fronto, opening her buttocks wider and encouraging his tongue to go between her voluptuous cheeks.
Caristia tasted the salt on her lips, and as she watched she found herself mimicking her mistress, bending against one of the columns, stretching her arms back as though bound to a javelin and sticking her bottom out in the hope that a man's tongue would lick along the valley between her buttocks. She looked at Drusus - only momentarily because she dared not look away from Arria Sulla for too long - but she could see he dared not move, he knew his master's temper and was too afraid. She caught the eye of one of the Nubians and he stepped towards her. She bent her arms back, showing him that she wanted to be tied like her mistress, and he picked up a long stick and wedged it into the crook of her elbows, pushing it between them and pressing it against her back. She felt the strain and pulled forward against it and, as she did, he took hold of her hands and offered her a shorter, thicker stick to hold on to. It had leather cords trailing from each end and they flicked against her face as she grabbed it. Straight away he bound her wrists and tied her to it, then pulling it back violently, he wedged it between her teeth and pulled the trailing thongs around her head. She choked as her mouth was suddenly and unexpectedly forced open, then filled. She flared her nostrils like a straining mare and gasped for air as Fronto, the palms of his hands on the insides of her mistress's thighs, opened Arria Sulla's buttocks and forced his tongue against the delightful darkness of her anus.
