Nova Baiae Rhodri's Story Chapter Nine The Slave-pens of Volpiscus "The Interviews"
This is a story of erotic fiction meant to be read by adults over the age of eighteen years
Written by Jean-Christophe and posted December, 2019 Visit my blog, "Slaves through the Ages" at slvtoby2011.blogspot.com
"The characters and ideas contained in this story are products of the writer's imagination and bear no resemblance to actual persons or events. Please respect the integrity of the story and don't do any rewrites, make alterations or add another's artwork or pictures"
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Chapter 9:
Being branded serves as an Epiphany for me. Suddenly, I am a man no longer; the visible brand on my left buttock and the invisible, throbbing pain searing itself through my ass are potent reminders of this fact. I am now a branded slave and soon to be an owned property. How quickly my world has been turned upside down. Yesterday, I'd been free; today I am a mere chattel.
After being branded, we are soon fitted with those other visible accoutrements of slavery. We are taken directly to the blacksmith's forge where a rough, iron collar on which are engraved the words "The House of Volpiscus" is fastened around my neck and a smaller, matching one fastened around my genitals. For me, the humiliation of the neck collar is secondary to the collar encircling my cock and balls which, as a consequence, are thrust into a prominent and obscene display. Later, I will learn this easy accessibility to a slave's genitals is much appreciated by buyers eager to test his responsiveness to their touch.
Prior to being taken to the forge, Volpiscus is asked by one of his overseers if we are to be body shaved.
"No, they'll be groomed and tidied up before going on display. And as always, I will offer them for sale 'au naturel' as some buyers like to see what they are buying. The current trend with some masters is to allow their slaves to retain their body hair and it is best that the buyers see the slaves in their natural state. What they do with their new slaves is entirely a matter for them to decide."
I recall that just last night Casca had said as much when talking about his dog-slaves Brutus and Rufus and that he said he would be visiting the slave-pens looking for a third addition to his kennels. As I study my fellow slaves, I recognize that several will probably have great appeal to Casca. I also recall that he'd mentioned he was in the market for a blond, blue-eyed dog-slave with a well-muscled body, generous genitalia and an agreeable amount of body hair. Certainly, there are several of my fellow-slaves who meet these specifications including my new friend, Marc. I shudder to think of him - or any of the others - being purchased by Casca. Life as a slave is bad enough but to live that life on all-fours and permanently emulating a dog is just too awful to contemplate. I shudder at the thought and then it occurs to me that I too met Casca's criteria for a blond, blue-eyed dog. I hope with all my heart that this isn't to be my fate. I decide that life as one of Karelius' litter-bearers or being an oar-slave on a tourist galley is preferable to being a human dog with a faux tail shoved up my ass and being made to wag it to show my delight at any attention my master or his friends pay me.
Next, we are given a thick, grey gruel of corn mash, black bread and water mixed with vinegar and olive oil to ease the rumbling in our bellies and to assuage our thirst. Despite the unedifying appearance of the food and the slightly sour taste of the water, I quickly devour my portion and look for a second helping which, however, doesn't materialise. Even as we eat, we are still under the scrutiny of Volpiscus' overseers. I sit with Marc on the straw-strewn floor and watch as two slaves set up a rough wooden table and two chairs. I worry at what purpose it is to play in our transition into slavery. Will it be the cause of more pain and suffering much as the branding-tables have been? My concern grows as Volpiscus, accompanied by a slave, enters the room and sits at the table. The slave, obviously a scribe, sits at his side. The slave carries a container of small, wooden plaques on leather thongs and a number of papyri scrolls which he spreads out before Volpiscus. For several minutes the slave-trader studies the papyri before looking up at the slaves who cower under his cruel gaze.
I have only known Volpiscus for few hours and it has been long enough to engender real fear in me. Instinctively, I know him to be a brutal sadist who enjoys his chosen profession of turning free men into slaves. His pitiless cruelty is etched into his face and his body language and overbearing manner show his utter contempt for us. Finally, he instructs his overseers to whip us onto our feet and to line us up in a single file facing the table where he sits. Once in position he speaks to us.
"SLAVES! Listen to me and listen carefully and take heed for I will only say this to you once." His voice booms out. "Slaves for that is what you have become and the new brands on your asses show your new status to the world. Forget that you were once free men. From now on you are slaves destined to serve your new masters in whatever manner they choose. Next Saturday, all of you will mount my auction-block and be sold to the highest bidder. However, before that happens much is to be done to prepare you for that. Part of the process of turning you into docile, compliant slaves is to rename you. Your old mainland names are no longer relevant and you'll each be given a new slave name which will identify you to your new masters although, as his property, he is at liberty to change your slave name to one of his choosing. Here on Nova Baiae we follow the ancient Roman tradition of giving a slave a Greek name. And from now on as slaves you will show your respect to all free citizens by remaining silent with your heads bowed in humility. And as a further mark of your respect for your betters you will refer to your owner and master as 'Domine'. For those of you who don't know Latin that means 'Master'. And as a mark of respect, you will address all other free men as 'master'. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
Our fear of Volpiscus is palpable and our answer is subdued. Rather than being concise and clear it is in most cases given as a tremulous almost inaudible "yes". Very few of us, if any, remember to add the honorific "Domine" and it is an omission we are soon to regret.
Immediately, Volpiscus' overseers bring their whips into play and we are mercilessly lashed to our knees. Our beating continues for several minutes and as the whips continue to rain down on our naked bodies, our cries of pain and distress almost drown out the overseers' admonition of us in failing to address Volpiscus as our "Dominus". It is a bitter lesson well-taught us by our overseers that none of us will readily forget. In future we will always address those who own us as "Domine".
Volpiscus calls a halt to his overseers' zealous flagellation of us and once more we are ordered to our feet and made to stand in single file before the table. Volpiscus inclines his head as a signal to the overseers to drag the first slave forward to stand immediately before him. I am standing behind Marc in ninth place in the queue and I can see the slave's nervous trembling as Volpiscus closely scrutinizes his body. After a few moments, the slave is ordered to turn with his back to Volpiscus whose cruel eyes rake over his nakedness. Then Volpiscus orders the slave.
"Move your feet apart, bend at the waist with your head lowered as far as is possible between your knees and spread wide your ass cheeks."
The young slave blushes at the command and foolishly hesitates. Once more an overseer's whip is brought into play and the hapless slave screams as an angry red stripe spreads diagonally across his back from waist to shoulder. It acts as a spur to action for the slave and as a warning to the rest of us. Volpiscus leans forward over the table and fingers the proffered asshole. Lasciviously he licks his lips and asks.
"Have you ever been fucked slave?"
"No Domine!" The slave replies through his tears of shame.
"Then you are a virgin? Is that so, slave?"
"Yes Domine, I am a virgin."
"Slave, your new master will be pleased that you are a virgin. It will prove a good selling point and add considerably to your worth." Then turning to the scribe-slave he asks. "You are recording this on his titulus?"
"Yes Domine!" The scribe replies meekly.
Volpiscus' mentioning of the titulus reminds me of the Roman custom of recording a slave's name, age, place of birth, his skills (if any) and his physical well-being on a small, wooden board which was hung around a slave's neck when he was offered for sale. Suddenly, what is happening makes sense; we are being appraised by Volpiscus prior to be placed on display.
Volpiscus leans across the table and loudly slaps the slave's upturned ass.
"Stand and face me slave!"
The slave quickly obeys and stands with his head bowed but I can see the trembling of his limbs as he waits.
Volpiscus looks down at a scroll and then looks directly at the slave.
"Your new slave name is Xenius. That's spelt X-E-N-I-U-S, slave. Remember it well. Should you forget it or fail to answer to it you will be soundly whipped. Do you understand?"
"Yes Domine!" the slave replies meekly.
Then tell me slave? What is your name?"
"My name is Xenius, Domine!"
"Very good, Xenius! Now tell me your age."
"I am eighteen, Domine!"
"Ahh, a good age to begin your slavery. You have many years of productive labor to offer your new master. And what skills do you possess, slave?"
"None, Domine, I am ...... I mean I was a student, Domine."
"Then you are unskilled, Xenius!" Volpiscus turns to the scribe and tells him. "Obviously, the slave has no deformities or injuries. Record that the slave is without any skills and is in excellent health. He's classified as a slave best suited to hard labor."
It takes just a few moments for the scribe to record this onto the wooden titulus which is then hung around the slave, Xenius' neck. I shudder at Volpiscus' dispassionate interrogation of the youngster and the cold-blooded manner in which he'd condemned him to a life of unrelenting hard labor. Is this the fate that awaits all of us?
As Xenius is lead away, another slave is dragged forward to take his place. The process continues as my companions in misery are given exotic Greek names and assessed for their future roles as slaves. My companions step forward with everyday names and walk away with new ones that read like the pages of Greek mythology. In the process of renaming, Jack becomes Phegeus, Nathan becomes Jasus and Ben becomes Xuthus. And some are more fortunate than others. Those who are skilled or possess a trade are more fortunate than their unskilled companions. Those who are skilled can dare hope for an easier existence than those who don't. They are condemned to life as a heavy-duty work slave.
By a process of elimination, it is now Marc's turn to stand before Volpiscus. I watch with interest as he is questioned and scrutinized by the slave-dealer. Unlike those who'd gone before him, Marc is made to flex his muscles and to display his magnificent physique. As I watch the tightening of his muscles and sinews I am reminded of those marble and bronze statues of naked Greek athletes which adorn our museums and art galleries. I am enraptured by Marc; viewed from a distance he is the embodiment of all that is beautiful in the male physique and He is truly worthy to bear an ancient Greek name. Eventually he is ordered to turn with his back to Volpiscus and to pose his body so that the slaver can truly appreciate his shapely ass and low hanging balls. Volpiscus doesn't bother to hide his lecherous interest in Marc. After all Marc is only a slave while he is a free man at liberty to indulge his every whim with whatever slave comes under his sway.
"Feet apart," He orders Marc, "bend at the waist and spread your ass-cheeks. Spread them wide..... wider yet. Yes, that's it. Let's see your dainty ass-hole."
Inevitably, he asks Marc the question he'd put to the eight other slaves.
"Have you been fucked, slave?"
"No, Domine!" Marc answers clearly leaving no doubt about his virginity.
"Then you are a virgin, slave?"
"Yes Domine!"
"You answer with conviction, slave. Almost with a sense of outrage. Am I to assume you prefer sex with a female?"
"Yes, Domine! I have ...." Marc hesitates, momentarily, "I mean I had a girlfriend before I was enslaved."
"That's interesting, slave! Not that it matters as a slave's sexual preferences are of no importance to its master. A slave's sexuality is whatever the master chooses it to be. And my guess is that your delightful ass will be ravished many times once you are sold. But now drop to all fours!"
Volpiscus order confuses Marc and he asks quizzically
"Domine?"
Marc doesn't see Volpiscus incline his head as a signal to one of his overseers. But Marc does feel the fiery pain of the lash as it falls across his upper back. He cries out in pain as once more the whip cuts across his shoulders. And he immediately falls to his hands and knees and awaits further instruction from Volpiscus.
"That was foolish of you slave!" Volpiscus admonishes him. "When your master gives you an order you are expected to obey immediately and without question. Now let me see you crawl to the far wall and back."
I watch as Marc obeys Volpiscus' instruction. Slowly he crawls away from the table giving the slave-trader an unimpeded view of his ass and slow hanging balls swinging freely between his thighs. No doubt, Marc is at a loss as to why he is being made to crawl but it's obvious to me. I'd seen the same thing last evening when Casca's dog, Rufus had been made to crawl in an identical manner. Marc is being assessed for his suitability as a dog-slave. Marc reaches the far wall and waits for Volpiscus' next instruction.
"Now crawl back to the table and stand facing me. Take it slowly!"
Marc slowly makes his way back towards the table and as he crawls past me, I see the angry whip marks against the smoothness of his flawless skin. He reaches the table and stand to face Volpiscus.
Volpiscus ignores Marc before speaking.
"Slave, I have given you the slave name, Cleon! That's C-L-E-O-N. Remember it well."
"Yes, Domine!" The newly named Cleon replies. "Thank you Domine!"
Cleon's answer is subservient but who can blame him. He accepts the inevitability of his fate and is trying to adjust to his changed circumstances. How quickly new slaves learn to ingratiate ourselves with their masters.
"How old are you, Cleon?" Volpiscus asks.
"I'm twenty-three, Domine."
"And what work did you do, slave?"
"Domine! I was a construction worker."
"And it shows, slave! Your body is honed to perfection. You'll be a popular lot on the auction-block. I already know of one client, my good friend Casca who'll be a keen bidder to own you. But that's in the lap of the gods and I'm sure he'll have stiff opposition from many others keen to buy you. Whoever has the most money to spend on the day will emerge from the bidding as your lucky owner. Which augers well for me. Who said there's no money to be made from dealing in slaves?
"So, Cleon! You are 23 years old, a skilled construction worker and as yet you are unsullied by having another man fuck you. All to the good. And you obviously enjoy good health and have no physical defects. Scribe, I hope you are writing all this down on Cleon's titulus?"
"Indeed, I am Domine!" The scribe replies. "What uses do you recommend for the slave, Domine?"
"Describe him as multi-faceted, scribe. He is that rare commodity - a slave either suited to the demands of hard physical labor or the soft luxury of a master's bedchamber. His body would be equally at home in a quarry or as a master's pampered pet. Record is as I have dictated."
"Yes Domine!"
Volpiscus' reference to Cleon as a "master's pampered pet" isn't lost on me although I'm sure Cleon has no idea of what is inferred in those three words. And perhaps it's as well that he doesn't. I'm sure he'll come to a clearer understanding of what that entails especially if Casca visits the slave-pens looking for a third dog to add to his kennel. I decide it would be better for me to say nothing of my suspicions to Cleon and to allow him a few more days of ignorance of the awful fate that might awaithim.
Cleon is led away to join the other eight slaves who had preceded him. However, he doesn't join them in their pen and is placed in an empty one. Now, it is my turn to stand before Volpiscus and an overseer leads me forward to stand just across the table from him. I lower my eyes to the floor and stand trembling before this man who is now to decide my fate.
"Stand up straight, slave! Don't slouch!"
I'm not aware that I am slouching but the searing pain as a whip sinuously wraps itself around my torso tells me otherwise. My scream of pain echoes around the room and startles my hapless companions out of their stupors. As the whip is savagely wrenched from around my upper body, I see an angry red welt forming on my belly. Once more the whip finds its target; only this time it wraps itself around my chest. Once again, my scream reverberates around the thick stone walls and as the whip is tugged from around my chest I see a second, angry welt forming on my pectoral muscles and I feel an agonizing pain in my inflamed nipples.
Hastily, I stand erect with my shoulders squared, my chest thrust out and my abdominals sucked in. This meets with my tormentor's approval.
"That's better, slave. That's much better. Remember whenever you are in the presence of your master or any free man you must stand respectfully erect and display your body for their scrutiny. Do you understand me, slave?"
"Yes, Domine!"
I have used the dreaded word - 'Domine' - for the first time and I am surprised at how easy it is to say. From now on it will become easier.
"Flex and display your body, slave."
"Yes, Domine!"
For the next few minutes I flex and pose my body so that my musculature is highlighted for Volpiscus' lascivious gaze. As I flex and pose my body, he follows my every action and it would appear I meet with his approval. Almost as though he is talking to himself, he mutters.
"Good! Excellent, slave! Like the slave before you have an impressive body. Karelius' assessment of you is correct. You make an excellent slave. Now turn with your back to me."
I turn my back to Volpiscus' gaze and in my imagination, I feel his eyes raking over my body. I even picture his lecherous scrutiny of my ass and as to confirm this he orders me to.
"Move your feet apart, bend at the waist and spread your ass-cheeks wide, slave."
I recall several slaves who'd gone before me were whipped because they'd failed to open up their asses to Volpiscus' visual inspection. The pain in my nipples is too intense to risk another cut of an overseer's whip and so I take an ass-cheek firmly in each hand and stretch them apart as widely as in anatomically possible. I feel the stretching of my flesh and the opening up of my puckering asshole to public scrutiny. Fortunately, with my head between my knees no one sees the hot flush of blood suffusing my face. Then comes the slaver's inevitable question.
"Have you ever been fucked slave?"
"No, Domine!" I answer in a clear, loud voice.
"Then, you are still a virgin, slave?"
"Yes, Domine!"
"Excellent! Any master looking to buy a slave for his bed prefers that the slave he chooses is unsullied. You have noted that this slave is a virgin, haven't you scribe?"
"Yes Domine!" The scribe slave replies
Volpiscus stands and walks around the table to where I am bent double. He runs a finger along my sensitive perineum and under my belly to where my balls are hanging lopsidedly. I shudder at his touch and yet, despite my fear of this man, I find the feathery touch of his finger to be pleasurable. He retraces his finger back along my perineum and up through the stretched canyon separating my ass cheeks until he reaches my anus. The touch of his finger teasing the super-sensitive, puckering flesh sends an electric current of pleasure surging through me and despite my best efforts to the contrary, my cock become rampantly erect.
Suddenly, Volpiscus grunts his approval, loudly slaps my ass and orders me to stand and face him once more.
I wait as he studies a scroll before addressing me.
"Slave, your new slave name is Chrysos the Greek word for gold. It is a reference to your golden curls which will be a good selling point for the auctioneer to use when you go to auction. That's spelt C-H-R-Y-S-O-S. Remember it and learn to answer to it or you'll suffer under the whip. Now tell me slave, what is your name?"
"Domine, my name is Chrysos, Domine"
"Good boy, Chrysos!!"
From this moment Rhodri Fraser ceases to exist. Instead, in his place stands the slave, Chrysos. I have been robbed of my freedom, my true identity and my self-respect. I have become the wretched slave, Chrisus.
"What age are you, Chrysos?" Volpiscus asks. "And what work did you do in your previous life?"
"Domine, I am twenty-two and I am a college student who has just graduated, Domine."
"What work were you engaged in slave?"
"Domine! I worked part time in bars and restaurants to help with my living expenses. Apart from that I was a fulltime student."
"Then you have some skills in serving at tables and other domestic duties, Chrysos? That's good! Scribe record that on slave's titulus. And what did you study at college, Chrysos?"
"Domine, I studied classical history and languages and now that I have graduated, I am to commence teaching history......" Then, I remember that is no longer the case and correct myself. "Domine, I mean I was to work in a boy's boarding-school teaching history and languages."
"Other than English, what languages do you speak, boy?"
"Domine, I speak Latin, Classical Greek, French and German, Domine."
"Then, you are a rarity among slaves, Chrysos. A true scholar. But your body isn't soft like those of most students. In fact, it is quite the opposite. Why is that slave?"
"Domine, I love ..... I mean I loved sport and I played football, swam and exercised regularly. I wanted to keep myself fit, Domine."
"And you have, slave! Your body shows your dedication to its well-being. Unwittingly, you have prepared yourself for slavery. A pleasant feature that will no doubt interest my buyers. It's the body of slave suited to hard physical labor or to the luxury on a master's bedchamber. You are making note of all this of this, aren't you, scribe?"
"Yes Domine, I am recording all the slave has to say, Domine."
"I am pleased with you Chrysos! Your versatility will appeal to my buyers and the price I receive for you should reward me handsomely for my efforts. And your virgin ass is a bonus. Buyers will pay extra for the privilege of opening up your tight hole for the first time. Already there is interest being shown in you. My friends Casca and Karelius have requested presale inspections of you and I am pleased to accommodate them."
The news that both Karelius and Casca have asked to view me in prior to being sold is worrying but I am powerless to prevent this from happening. From now on, whatever happens to me, will be as the result of other people's decisions and not mine. But for now, I hope that Volpiscus is finished with me and that I am taken to wherever Cleon and the other slaves are incarcerated.
"Place him in a pen with the other slave," he hesitates and asks the scribe, "what is the name of the previous slave, scribe?"
"Domine, the slave's name is Cleon."
"Yes, that's it. Place Chrysos in the same pen as Cleon ready for inspection.
As I am led from the room another slave is dragged forward to take my place before Volpiscus.
My attention is now focused on what is to happen when Casca and Karelius inspect me. My heart is full of trepidation at the prospect of being the slave of either man.
To be continued. . . . . . . . .