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  When the soldiers had come down to the hold to take her away, Taranis had begged her to do everything in her power to survive. He’d vowed that if he lived he would somehow find a way to come for her and they would flee to a land far from Roman domination. She remembered his words all too dearly as she stared at the senator’s naked sex.

  ‘You know what to do,’ Tiro worriedly prompted.

  Sirona glanced nervously up at Tiro. He was clearly concerned, not for her of course, but his master might blame him for her failure to do as she was told. Sirona didn’t care what happened to Tiro but she intended to try and keep the promise she had made to Taranis. Cautiously, she touched the senator’s cock, trying not to show her abhorrence as she curved her fingers around the flaccid shaft. Aulus tensed, almost as though her callused fingers with their ragged, dirty nails repelled him. Yet he was still obviously aroused by her touch because to her amazement the organ immediately began to stiffen.

  There was a massive void between pleasuring this man and having sex with her betrothed. She loved touching his cock and bringing him to a climax in any way he wanted, but this was totally different. Yet she had to do it, she reminded herself, as she began to gently rub the senator’s long slim shaft, employing the same rhythmic movements she used when milking livestock at home. Sirona felt the pale crinkled flesh start to harden and she heard him give a groan of pleasure. She wasn’t that skilled in sexual matters, yet it appeared that where their cocks were concerned men were the same the world over.

  Trying to ignore her conflicting emotions, she moved her hand more briskly, wanking him harder. The skin on the domed head grew tight and shiny, as a small drop of pre-come seeped from the slit.

  ‘Her efforts are crude, but effective,’ Aulus grunted, his face reddening. ‘Tell her to use her mouth, I want her to suck me.’

  ‘Take it into your mouth,’ Tiro bent forwards and hissed in her ear. ‘You surely know how to do that?’

  She had no intention of taking the senator’s cock between her lips, the idea was utterly repulsive, so she had to find a way to make him climax as quickly as possible. Anxiously, she began to pump his shaft harder, while at the same time fondling his pale hairless balls.

  ‘No!’ Aulus gripped the arms of his chair, wincing in discomfort. ‘Tell the bitch to use her mouth!’

  ‘Jupiter defend me! Girl, are you stupid?’ Tiro anxiously remonstrated. ‘Use your mouth on him, now.’

  Ignoring Tiro, Sirona continued to wank Aulus with a brutal enthusiasm she would never have thought to use on her beloved Taranis.

  ‘By the breath of Hades!’ Aulus gasped. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s doing,’ he shouted angrily. ‘She’s clearly too stupid to even follow an order properly. Get the bitch off me.’ He lashed out at Sirona, catching her hard across the face with the flat of his hand. Then he roughly kicked her away from him.

  Sirona fell back on the cold mosaic floor with a hard smack, barely feeling the pain. She hoped that this man, whom she could only presume was now her owner, had obtained little satisfaction from their brief sexual encounter. The thought of having to permanently provide such intimate services for him appalled her. Perhaps, if she continued to appear as clumsy and stupid in future, he’d ignore her and turn to his other slaves who were doubtless more skilled in attending to his vile demands.

  She expected some immediate form of punishment or at least the threat of one later. Yet, to her surprise, Aulus just glared over at Tiro and said, ‘Show the bitch how to do it properly; she’s clearly an imbecile and totally unskilled.’

  To Sirona’s total amazement, Tiro stepped forwards and sank to his knees between his master’s thighs. She stared in surprised fascination as he reached out and touched Aulus’s cock, handling it as he would a revered object. Tenderly, he stroked the rigid member. There was a strange kind of erotic servility in this moment as he began to masturbate Aulus.

  In Brittania, men did not pleasure other men, well, as far as she knew they did not, but she had heard tales of such Roman depravity. She had found the idea disgusting, but now that she was here witnessing the lecherous act, strangely enough it was exciting her.

  Both senator and slave appeared to have forgotten her presence, so she moved, edging to her left, filled with curiosity and wanting to get a better view of the intimate encounter.

  Tiro leant forwards and tenderly kissed the taut head of Aulus’s penis, running the tip of his tongue round the clearly defined rim, until the entire tip glistened with his saliva. ‘Take it in your mouth,’ Aulus demanded.

  Sliding his lips over the head, Tiro pulled the cock deep into his mouth. Aulus arched his neck and gave a loud grunt of pleasure as Tiro slid his lips further down the shaft, almost swallowing it to the root.

  Sirona had never watched anyone having sex before and she was surprised at how titillating voyeurism could be. She slid her hand between her thighs and pressed it to her pussy as the erotic feelings grew stronger.

  Aulus smiled and leant back in his chair, watching Tiro with heavy-lidded eyes as the slave crouched between his widely stretched thighs, mouthing his cock. Tenderly, he stroked Tiro’s short brown hair. ‘I don’t want to come yet, use your mouth as you know I like it.’

  After letting the rigid cock slip from his mouth, Tiro began to kiss and lick his master’s denuded balls. Sirona found his immediate obedience rather unsettling. Would she grow to be like that, worn down by servility to a point where she would always do exactly as she was ordered, she wondered, as she saw Aulus grip the arms of his chair, his entire body tensing as Tiro’s moist tongue moved downwards. The slave slowly licked the tender skin of his master’s perineum and Aulus shifted in his seat, sliding further down the chair. He looped his legs over the slave’s shoulders so that the tip of Tiro’s tongue could easily reach the taut brown ring of his anus.

  Her pussy was now tingling with excitement and she pressed her hand harder against it, hardly able to believe what she was seeing, as Tiro’s tongue touched, then gently probed the forbidden opening. She was certain that she could see the tongue sliding deeper into a place none should ever venture and moisture pooled between her thighs. Aulus grunted and bore down against the questing tongue. His cock looked as hard as it could be, the shaft a deep red, the head slowly turning a purplish colour. It stood out stiffly from his groin, as another bead of pre-come seeped from the tip and rolled slowly down the side of the glans. The sharp scent of their sexual desire drifted towards her, and Sirona found herself moving her hand unconsciously, rubbing the heel of her palm against her clit, as she wondered what it would feel like to be touched in that secret part of her body.

  Aulus shifted in his chair, breathing heavily. ‘Now,’ he ordered, lowering his legs. He meshed his hands in Tiro’s hair, forcing the slave’s face towards his cock, which looked ready to explode at any moment. She heard his groan of bliss as Tiro’s mouth hungrily swallowed the shaft. Keeping a firm hold on Tiro, Aulus lifted his buttocks and thrust vigorously into the slave’s mouth.

  Sirona was so tempted to slide her fingers between her pussy lips and stimulate the small bud of her clit, just as she had done in the past when Taranis hadn’t been around to pleasure her. Fighting her desires, she pulled her hand away from her sex and clenched it tightly, ignoring the aching need in her groin. She knew that she could not succumb to such temptations, because the senator might suddenly see what she was doing and try to force her into another sexual encounter.

  Still, she couldn’t resist continuing to watch the two men as she wondered what Tiro was feeling. One of his hands had reached beneath his tunic and he was masturbating himself while servicing his master. While his lips worked steadily on Aulus’s cock, Tiro was wanking himself off.

  She was captivated by the strange sensuality of this moment and, when Aulus threw back his head and gave a loud grunt of pleasure, she jumped nervously. The senator’s face was suffused with blood and his eyes were bulging. He gave another, even louder grunt as he climaxed in Tiro�
��s mouth. The slave’s throat contracted as he swallowed every last drop of his master’s semen.

  Pulling back his head, Tiro took a deep unsteady breath, but he had yet to climax himself. Awkwardly, he pulled down his tunic in order to hide his erection. Leaning forwards, Aulus gave a chilling smile as he lifted the slave’s garment and stared disdainfully at the engorged penis. ‘Please, master –’ Tiro started to say.

  ‘Finish it,’ Aulus interjected, then leant back in his chair, making no attempt to cover his own sex. He kept his gaze fastened on Tiro, watching the slave curve his nervous fingers around his cock and start to masturbate himself.

  2

  JULIA FELIX WAS feeling in an extraordinarily good mood today. It had been almost two months since the official period of mourning for her hated husband Sutoneus had finished and she was finding the freedom of widowhood exhilarating. All her business ventures were doing well and she no longer had to endure a life of looking after a bad-tempered old man, who often appeared to despise her as much as she despised him. Now she could do exactly as she wished.

  The festival of Fortuna had just ended and it felt even hotter than usual for the time of year. The market in the forum had been packed with people and filled with dust from the ongoing renovations of the temple of Apollo. Not that the Via dell’Abbondanza was any less crowded but at least here she could walk along the pavement on the shady side of the street.

  Julia crossed the Via Stabiana, stepping on the row of raised stones that were placed there to prevent pedestrians getting their feet wet during the rainy seasons of the year. At present, it also protected them from the horse-shit and rubbish ground down into the paved road by the iron-shod wheels of the chariots. She decided to send a letter of complaint to Gaius Cuspius, one of the four magistrates elected to run the city. After all, it was his responsibility as an aedile to make sure the slaves employed to keep the streets clean did their job properly.

  Her thoughts were suddenly disturbed by a cacophony of whistles coming from a group of workmen on the other side of the road, who were repairing a derelict building damaged by the terrible earthquake almost seventeen years earlier. To Julia’s surprise, they appeared to be whistling at her. Blushing awkwardly, but secretly flattered by the unexpected attention, she hurried on towards the bakery.

  Julia had only been a child when the earthquake hit Pompeii. It had been one of the most terrifying days of her life; the other had been when her stepfather Aulus Vettius had taken her to Rome to marry the elderly senator, Sutoneus. She had never even met him; all she knew of her future husband at the time was that he had already outlived two previous wives.

  The smell of freshly baked bread mingled with the delicious odour of lentil stew from the thermopilia, which sold food to passers-by. Suddenly feeling a little peckish, she glanced back to see if there was any sign of her maid Sabine, who she’d left at the forum to collect some grey mullet for dinner from the fishery in the centre of town. Not looking where she was going, Julia almost collided with two burly seamen who were standing on the pavement outside the tavern of Sotencus. They were staring up at the balcony where a young woman, one of the many pretty waitresses, stood. She was exchanging greetings with the men who, judging by their lewd comments, were regular customers of the tavern. On the outside walls of the establishment were painted crude slogans and obscene graffiti all praising the many talents of the waitresses, who also provided sexual services for their customers. They were often far cheaper than the whores of the official brothels, the lupanaris.

  Realising that they might have offended a lady of some standing, the two men muttered a hurried apology to Julia and strode inside the tavern.

  Longing to get home, sit down and have a cool drink, Julia walked swiftly onwards. As she descended the hill, the pavements became less crowded. There were only a few shops here; mostly the road was lined with homes belonging to private residents of the city. The door of Octavius Ouoro’s house was open and she could smell the sweet scent of the roses and jasmine that filled his large garden. However, only a few steps further on, the sweet odour was overwhelmed by the unpleasant stink of stale urine.

  Just ahead, Julia saw a man lift his tunic and pee into a large red amphora standing by the entrance to the fullery. The man was sturdily built with muscular thighs and he had an impressive cock. Julia felt little embarrassment as she stared at him because it was usual to see male passers-by relieving themselves in the amphoras set outside fulleries.

  He grinned and winked at Julia, as he dropped his tunic. With a casual wave of his hand, he turned and walked in the direction of the Samo Gate. Julia was certain he was one of the gladiators who had fought in the arena last week and her heart gave a nervous flutter. Many Roman matrons paid good money to bed a gladiator and most young females had a crush on one or other of these men.

  Togas were generally worn by most citizens and the long lengths of woollen fabric were not easy to wash at home. Most of the urine, which was an important component in the laundering process, came from animals and public urinals but all fulleries also relied on the fresh supplies obtained from the amphoras placed outside their entrances.

  Julia lifted her skirt not wanting to soil the hem of her stola in the dust surrounding the amphora as she walked past it. Many drunks from the taverns used the jars and their aim was often far from true. Increasing her pace, she hurried on towards her house, relieved to be moving further away from the sour odour.

  ‘Mistress,’ she heard Sabine call.

  Julia turned to see a red-faced Sabine scurrying down the road, trying desperately to catch up with her mistress. ‘You were a long time,’ she gently scolded as the maid reached her. ‘Were you flirting with Musa again?’

  Sabine coloured even more. ‘Of course not,’ she said hesitantly, still struggling to regain her breath.

  Julia gave a soft laugh. Musa was a young freed man who ran the fishery for its wealthy owner. ‘I don’t mind you spending time chatting to the young man, just as long as you’ve completed all the tasks I’ve given you. He’s good looking and quite charming. If you wish it, I’ll allow you time off one evening so that you can meet him.’

  Sabine lowered her eyes. ‘I’m not sure about meeting Musa,’ she stuttered as she accompanied her mistress through the wide entranceway of Julia’s house. The doorman shut the heavy wood door and the noise of the street outside faded as they walked through a short corridor into the atrium.

  ‘It is your choice, Sabine. Think on it as you take the fish to the kitchen,’ Julia told her. ‘And don’t forget to tell the cook to prepare the special herb sauce I like.’

  She was luckier than most of her friends and acquaintances, in that she had a house slave who was a very good cook. A large number of them were always complaining that none of their slaves could cook a decent meal. Some of the richer citizens paid vast sums to import decent chefs from Rome or even further afield.

  As Sabine hurried off to the kitchen, Julia handed her packages to a young male house slave. Then she walked down the corridor to her favourite place of all, her garden. Julia’s establishment was much larger than those of her neighbours. As well as a large villa and a huge garden, there was also an extensive bath complex set aside from the main house and a long row of workshops. The baths were considered one of the cornerstones of Roman civilisation. Cleanliness was a necessity for its citizens, while in contrast it was said that most barbarians lived in filth and squalor. At present, there was only one working public bath in the city, as the other had been damaged by the earthquake and never repaired. There was a new, far more luxurious bath complex currently under construction but it would not be ready for some time yet. Because of this, Sutoneus, when he was alive, had been persuaded to let out their bathhouse to a few special friends and acquaintances. He had a close business involvement with Maecenus, the largest slave dealer in the city. Julia didn’t like the man, but she continued to allow him unlimited access to the baths mainly because he paid generously for the privilege.
Also he was rich, very influential and someone she had no wish to cross.

  Julia might not have liked her late husband but she was appreciative of the luxuries his wealth had provided her with during their ten-year marriage, even though she’d had little chance to truly appreciate them until now.

  She loved this house more than anything else in her life, she thought, as she stepped into the sunny garden. In front of her was a long colonnaded swimming pool, its marble-faced pillars wrapped with climbing plants covered with crimson blooms. At the head of the pool was a large fountain and to its left a tablinum for receiving visitors which was flanked by statues of Apollo and Aphrodite. Only last year Sutoneus had imported these statues from Greece. She could hear birdsong and the air was sweet with the scent of roses, her favourite flowers. Skirting the pool, she walked over the low bridge which crossed the man-made stream running through the grounds. Water from the stream eventually fed the huge beds of fruit and vegetables at the far end of the garden.

  Julia sat down on a stone bench beneath a tall Cyprus tree and relaxed, just enjoying the peace and tranquillity of her surroundings. Her servants were well trained and immediately a slave hurried towards her and handed her a cup of wine mixed with water and flavoured with honey.

  Behind the slave came her steward, Borax. In his will, Sutoneus had freed the steward in return for his many years of loyal service, but Borax had chosen to continue to work for her. Dangling from the belt at Borax’s waist was a heavy bunch of keys and in his hand was a wax tablet and stylus, so that he could make notes about any household problems which needed his attention.

  ‘Mistress.’ Borax smiled warmly.

  ‘I trust the mullet Sabine purchased will make a good supper?’

  When she was on her own Julia rarely ate her main meal, cena, at the usual time of three o’clock. She preferred to eat later in the cool of the evening.