F is for Fair

Fancy that, Arlinus was grateful for Claudia’s tardiness. Tasked with too many chores: to find his shaving tools, to track down the cook’s helper on her market shopping day, to round up the musicians, that was a solid half-day job for the maid on a good day.

It wasn’t a good day for Claudia, who started as a sex slave too, but Arlinus got bored fast with the beautiful yet bland as porridge Macedonian woman. Claudia followed all his orders today, as she tended to Giulia with the bath and brushed her hair, but Arlinus felt the heavy air of jealousy that Macedonian women were famous for, or more like envy, towards the new slave. A silent question: what does she have that I don’t? A legitimate question at that; in all fairness, with her small breasts and wide hips, dark-haired Claudia, nicknamed Culibonia for her anal-receiving skills, possessed all the traits and fetched the highest price at the slave market. She couldn’t help it that she lacked the innate desire to please and submit. Nevertheless, Arlinus had to nip the rivalry in the bud to protect fair-haired Giulia. He had plenty of tools for that at his disposal and no desire to postpone Claudia’s whipping until his weekly corporal punishment day, to which all the slaves were subjected.

A few moments ago, Arlinus spilled his semina down the slave’s throat, and already his brain was buzzing with all the new thoughts. Not a slave, a concubine. He always wanted a concubine, a permanent plaything to fulfill his perverted needs, but none of the female slaves, past or present, fit the bill. As if she read his thoughts, Giulia dutifully gulped around him, milking the last drops.

“Good girl,” Arlinus leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “We don’t need no translators, do we?”

“Oui master,” Giulia responded, making an emphasis on the second syllable. The one trick she had learned already, that ‘yes master’ was a good answer to almost any question.

She licked her dry lips and coughed. With her hands still tied behind her back and lacking language skills, she was at his mercy again. But a good master takes care of his property. Arlinus wiped her mouth with a damp cloth and gave her some water in a silver cup.

“Get up, let me see you.” He pulled Giulia to her feet and finally untied her hands.

The woman rubbed her wrists the same way she did at the slave market. And that gesture yanked Arlinus to that moment, reminding him it was just this morning he picked her up and brought to his palazzo. She was fair game; she was his, but he didn’t want to rush anything, not today.

Arlinus lifted her from the bath, all prune-skinned. Roman women and men shaved their body hair, but Giulia had a curly triangle between her legs, slightly darker than her blonde mane. It’s been a while since he has seen one or played with one, especially so fair and blonde.

“Your furrow, it’s nice,” he stretched his hand to touch the curls. “No shave. I’m going to keep it for now.”