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When the party got back to the Villa Pompilii, slaves’ supper was indeed over. Melissa unlocked Duo’s manacles and ordered Uli and her to wash, then wait outside her room, as they did, kneeling properly. After a few minutes, her handmaid came out with some good bread, tasty cheese and fruit, Mistress Melissa gets superior rations and, though she’s strict and stern, she’s kind enough to let the young slaves share her meal this once. Having gobbled it up eagerly, they drank at the fountain and were soon asleep in the dormitory.
At wake-up time they had to jump to it like all the others, performed their ablutions, snatched quick breakfast, and reported again to Melissa’s door. When she appeared, they knelt very humbly and politely thanked her for last night’s meal. Then they received their orders for the day, Uli was to return to her usual duties, Duo must help her clear the loads of beans that’s built up since she was called away from the mill.
“What are these beans?” Duo asked curiously, as the two strode briskly along a dusty track through Pompilius’s extensive estate, watched in the pre-dawn twilight by owls and timid creatures. “Oh, I don’t really know, they come from a very hot part of Africa – Æthiopia I think it’s called. Master has them brought it big galleys rowed by slaves. You’ll see what we have to do with them in a moment.
They reached the top of a ridge, in the early light they could see ox-wagons slowly trundling up a ridge below where they were standing. On the hillside stood a series of big wooden barns, with just posts along the sides, no walls, so they were open to the air. Strong male slaves were unloading sacks from the wagons, females were spreading the contents out with rakes on trays, then carrying them into the barns and laying them on racks, hundreds or thousands of them.
There was a powerful, pungent aroma in the morning air, it made Duo cough and her eyes were stinging. It grew stronger as she followed Uli further up the ridge towards a huge brick building with a tall chimney with smoke pouring from it that simply drifted or hung in the dank dawn air. She could see slaves, these ones almost naked, carrying trays of some greenish substance into this building. “When the beans have lain for some weeks, getting damp in the night air, drying out by day, they’re ready to be roasted,” Uli explained.
They walked past the building, it too had largely open sides, from which heat, smoke and stench billowed forth, almost choking the newbie slave. It was hard to see inside, but she could make out huge rotating drums and – her heart jumped at the sight – naked girls in a kind of treadmill, plodding continuously, going nowhere, driving round the drums, urged on by a brute with a heavy whip, its thong dark brown, so was he, so were his captives.
On the outside wall at the end of this grim building, a pair of muscular men-slaves were up ladders, fixing a huge, gleaming plaque in the form of a golden Roman eagle, symbol of the Empire. Uli looked at this with some surprise,”What’s all this about?” she muttered. Duo was able to help a bit, “There are letters underneath, BY APPOINTMENT… I think – it looks like father’s getting orders from the Emperor for his funny beans, I hope that’ll make him a bit less grumpy!”
They turned down some steps alongside it, Duo could feel fierce heat, her tunic was already wringing with sweat, those walls must surely be too hot to touch! At the bottom of the steps, in a lurid glow from a great fire within the works, there was more bustle, slaves who were completely naked, their skin all black no matter what it might have been when they were born, were dragging cartloads of wood into the infernal structure to keep the huge furnace blazing.
These were sights quite startling to Duo’s innocent eyes, she felt terrified, imagining she would be dragged into this place of horror, and yet she felt resentful, why hadn’t she and her sister ever been here, hadn’t ever seen it, heard about it? How much more had their parents been hiding from them? Well, mother had said they had to learn about real life, this must be it!
Below where the furnace-slaves were toiling there was another storey, and Uli turned into the doorway, telling Duo “This is where we work.” Steps inside led down into a big vaulted cellar, with many bays. In the centre of each was a mill, a wide wooden drum with a pair of grindstones set in it, a sturdy oak post projecting from the top, a massive beam fixed horizontally to that pole equipped with chains at either end. Most of these mills were already turning, driven by naked slaves shackled to the beams, Uli led Duo to one at the far end, somewhat apart from the others, standing stationary. Duo noticed, painted in black letters on the side of the drum, the word EXIMVS, ‘special, selected’.
“This is our mill. Get your kit off. You’ve already got wrist-irons, hold them up, I’ll get you fitted to the bar, ready for the overseer to lock you on.”
At wake-up time they had to jump to it like all the others, performed their ablutions, snatched quick breakfast, and reported again to Melissa’s door. When she appeared, they knelt very humbly and politely thanked her for last night’s meal. Then they received their orders for the day, Uli was to return to her usual duties, Duo must help her clear the loads of beans that’s built up since she was called away from the mill.
“What are these beans?” Duo asked curiously, as the two strode briskly along a dusty track through Pompilius’s extensive estate, watched in the pre-dawn twilight by owls and timid creatures. “Oh, I don’t really know, they come from a very hot part of Africa – Æthiopia I think it’s called. Master has them brought it big galleys rowed by slaves. You’ll see what we have to do with them in a moment.
They reached the top of a ridge, in the early light they could see ox-wagons slowly trundling up a ridge below where they were standing. On the hillside stood a series of big wooden barns, with just posts along the sides, no walls, so they were open to the air. Strong male slaves were unloading sacks from the wagons, females were spreading the contents out with rakes on trays, then carrying them into the barns and laying them on racks, hundreds or thousands of them.
There was a powerful, pungent aroma in the morning air, it made Duo cough and her eyes were stinging. It grew stronger as she followed Uli further up the ridge towards a huge brick building with a tall chimney with smoke pouring from it that simply drifted or hung in the dank dawn air. She could see slaves, these ones almost naked, carrying trays of some greenish substance into this building. “When the beans have lain for some weeks, getting damp in the night air, drying out by day, they’re ready to be roasted,” Uli explained.
They walked past the building, it too had largely open sides, from which heat, smoke and stench billowed forth, almost choking the newbie slave. It was hard to see inside, but she could make out huge rotating drums and – her heart jumped at the sight – naked girls in a kind of treadmill, plodding continuously, going nowhere, driving round the drums, urged on by a brute with a heavy whip, its thong dark brown, so was he, so were his captives.
On the outside wall at the end of this grim building, a pair of muscular men-slaves were up ladders, fixing a huge, gleaming plaque in the form of a golden Roman eagle, symbol of the Empire. Uli looked at this with some surprise,”What’s all this about?” she muttered. Duo was able to help a bit, “There are letters underneath, BY APPOINTMENT… I think – it looks like father’s getting orders from the Emperor for his funny beans, I hope that’ll make him a bit less grumpy!”
They turned down some steps alongside it, Duo could feel fierce heat, her tunic was already wringing with sweat, those walls must surely be too hot to touch! At the bottom of the steps, in a lurid glow from a great fire within the works, there was more bustle, slaves who were completely naked, their skin all black no matter what it might have been when they were born, were dragging cartloads of wood into the infernal structure to keep the huge furnace blazing.
These were sights quite startling to Duo’s innocent eyes, she felt terrified, imagining she would be dragged into this place of horror, and yet she felt resentful, why hadn’t she and her sister ever been here, hadn’t ever seen it, heard about it? How much more had their parents been hiding from them? Well, mother had said they had to learn about real life, this must be it!
Below where the furnace-slaves were toiling there was another storey, and Uli turned into the doorway, telling Duo “This is where we work.” Steps inside led down into a big vaulted cellar, with many bays. In the centre of each was a mill, a wide wooden drum with a pair of grindstones set in it, a sturdy oak post projecting from the top, a massive beam fixed horizontally to that pole equipped with chains at either end. Most of these mills were already turning, driven by naked slaves shackled to the beams, Uli led Duo to one at the far end, somewhat apart from the others, standing stationary. Duo noticed, painted in black letters on the side of the drum, the word EXIMVS, ‘special, selected’.
“This is our mill. Get your kit off. You’ve already got wrist-irons, hold them up, I’ll get you fitted to the bar, ready for the overseer to lock you on.”
Quiet Paul
Tribune
If nothing else, this should encourage people back to the Coffee Shop. An orderly queue, please, ladies and gentlemen....behind me....
Are we going to get good fine espresso grind with these new slaves? Overseer needs to keep an eye on this.
Good section of the story. Duo is certainly learning about real life. I wonder though, always ending up with her kit off, whether she'll be able to maintain her Vestal qualifications (not that she seems to care).
Good section of the story. Duo is certainly learning about real life. I wonder though, always ending up with her kit off, whether she'll be able to maintain her Vestal qualifications (not that she seems to care).
The two girls stripped, threw their slave-rags into a corner, Uli linked Duo’s wrist-irons to heavy chains on the wooden bar, then went round to the opposite end and clamped irons round her own wrists. They waited a few moments, breathing in the rich, hot scent that filled the cellar, Duo decided she quite liked the smell once she got used to it, she felt strangely stimulated and excited by the tingling it excited within her lungs and the warm, clammy air outside her body.
“Ha, so madam has deigned to return from her holidays?” snapped a sneeringly sarcastic female voice, a tall, dark female with straggly hair and only a ragged loincloth round her hips flicked a whip at Uli, who bowed her head and bent her knee instinctively, “Well, there’s three day’s work waiting to be done, they’re already yelling downstairs that a wagon’s come from the Imperial Palace, and the long-distance carts are lined up to set off on the Asia Minor run – so Miss Special Brew had better get her legs moving!” She growled as she locked Uli’s clamps till she winced.
She marched round to Duo, who realised she’d better show respect like Uli had. “So this is number two? Huh, these hands don’t look like they’ve ever done much proper work,” she snarled, as she checked the slave’s wrists were properly clamped and chained up, “Well, you’re bloody well going to work today, as there’s two of you and a panic on in the packing shed, you’ll do double your quota or get double your punishment – got it?” “Yes, miss” the two girls responded compliantly.
“Grind!” she yelled, thrashing Duo’s bum with her short but weighty strap. At once the two youngsters heaved forward and the mill began to turn. Duo was surprised how heavy it was, she couldn’t imagine how she could keep turning it for any length of time, but Uli soon got into her rhythmic stride, both girls encouraged by repeated lashes from the overseer who stood by, urging them on. A rumbling, crunching sound, accompanied by the clinking and clunking of her chains, filled Duo’s ears, she felt vibrations through the floor in her bare feet, her legs took up the regular, though gradually accelerating, stride, her breathing fell into time with the marching pace.
Eventually, the overseer departed to attend to other slavegirls, Uli and Duo continued with their task in silence, there was too much noise anyway, Duo released she needed to conserve her breath, and she was scared of attracting the overseer’s malign attention, so she kept her eyes on the heavy wooden beam she was pushing and reflected on the extraordinary changes that had swept over her life in the past couple of days and the cruel choice her parents seemed to be forcing on her – the frigid tedium of the Vestal Virgins’ Convent, or the sweltering tedium of this slavery at the mill. She shook her head glumly, drops splashed on the timber that she could see had been greased and polished by countless sweating slavegirls before her…
Time seemed to stop as the mill ground on, but there were sudden interruptions from time to time – a hopper above the tub would open without warning and a new load of smouldering hot beans cascaded down from the furnace. At long intervals, a scruffy little urchin scampered in with a battered old water-skin that she put to the slavegirls’ lips so they could quench their desperate thirst. And sometimes came a more troubling signal, which Duo soon learnt to fear, the ringing of a bell, which accompanied shouting from the crew in the bagging and loading bays below that they were waiting - for all the two slavegirl’s efforts, not enough grinds were coming through. This would summon the immediate attention of the overseer and her deputy, a slightly shorter but strongly-built Germanic blonde, both came to flog the idle slaves with vicious strokes, kicks and curses.
After one such episode, Duo was feeling utterly broken and sinking into despair, she glanced across to Uli, who seemed unmoved, simply accepting it all, but she was looking Duo’s way and gave her an encouraging smile. Hecate, thought Duo, that girl thinks she’s better off here than she was in Ultima Thule – whatever kind of a shit-hole must that place be?
Duo had long since lapsed into a kind of exhausted daze when she became aware of two figures in the cellar, at first she cringed, expecting more whip-weals, but these weren’t her bullying tormentors, they were men. One a grey-haired gent with a pleasant, grandfatherly look, though one eye was pemanently closed, and his nose impressed Duo with its curious shade of blue. The other was a rather taller, lanky fellow with a casual air, wearing a wide-brimmed yellow felt petasus.
They watched the naked, sweating slavegirls plodding on with their labour with evident satisfaction for some minutes. “So, Arbor,” Duo heard the elder say, “Here’s where the magic is performed, here’s where Uli grinds her special blend!” “Sure,” replied the other, “Though I reckon the real magic’s in the guts of those desert cats.”
The old gentleman held up his hand, signalling to Uli to halt, Duo rested on her beam, panting quietly. She noticed the two overseers were watching with sour faces. “This is Uli, our premium grindslave,” Uli bowed as low as she could on her beam, and flexed her knee. “A pleasure to meet you, grindslave,” said the guy in the hat, “Your slavegirl is honoured Sir,” she replied in no more than a whisper, Duo could see she was blushing. “She sure is,” he replied with a chuckle, “I guess grindslaves don’t get to meet the Imperial Praefectus of Liquid Refreshments every day!” Uli’s crimson spread down to her small but shapely breasts.
“Uli’s not only a grindslave, she’s our bardslave too,” the grandfather continued, “While she’s working, she’s making up songs and stories!” “Wow!” Arbor was impressed, “Have you got a song for us today, slave?” “Er, well, yes Sir,” she responded shyly, “We were at the slave-market yesterday and I made up one there while I was watching – would you like me to sing it, Sir?” “I sure would!”
Uli drew herself up, tossed back her dark brown hair, took a deep draught of burning, roasted air, and began to sing in a clear tone that rang around the cellar, her body swinging and her bare feet tapping to the rhythm of the tune.
“Ha, so madam has deigned to return from her holidays?” snapped a sneeringly sarcastic female voice, a tall, dark female with straggly hair and only a ragged loincloth round her hips flicked a whip at Uli, who bowed her head and bent her knee instinctively, “Well, there’s three day’s work waiting to be done, they’re already yelling downstairs that a wagon’s come from the Imperial Palace, and the long-distance carts are lined up to set off on the Asia Minor run – so Miss Special Brew had better get her legs moving!” She growled as she locked Uli’s clamps till she winced.
She marched round to Duo, who realised she’d better show respect like Uli had. “So this is number two? Huh, these hands don’t look like they’ve ever done much proper work,” she snarled, as she checked the slave’s wrists were properly clamped and chained up, “Well, you’re bloody well going to work today, as there’s two of you and a panic on in the packing shed, you’ll do double your quota or get double your punishment – got it?” “Yes, miss” the two girls responded compliantly.
“Grind!” she yelled, thrashing Duo’s bum with her short but weighty strap. At once the two youngsters heaved forward and the mill began to turn. Duo was surprised how heavy it was, she couldn’t imagine how she could keep turning it for any length of time, but Uli soon got into her rhythmic stride, both girls encouraged by repeated lashes from the overseer who stood by, urging them on. A rumbling, crunching sound, accompanied by the clinking and clunking of her chains, filled Duo’s ears, she felt vibrations through the floor in her bare feet, her legs took up the regular, though gradually accelerating, stride, her breathing fell into time with the marching pace.
Eventually, the overseer departed to attend to other slavegirls, Uli and Duo continued with their task in silence, there was too much noise anyway, Duo released she needed to conserve her breath, and she was scared of attracting the overseer’s malign attention, so she kept her eyes on the heavy wooden beam she was pushing and reflected on the extraordinary changes that had swept over her life in the past couple of days and the cruel choice her parents seemed to be forcing on her – the frigid tedium of the Vestal Virgins’ Convent, or the sweltering tedium of this slavery at the mill. She shook her head glumly, drops splashed on the timber that she could see had been greased and polished by countless sweating slavegirls before her…
Time seemed to stop as the mill ground on, but there were sudden interruptions from time to time – a hopper above the tub would open without warning and a new load of smouldering hot beans cascaded down from the furnace. At long intervals, a scruffy little urchin scampered in with a battered old water-skin that she put to the slavegirls’ lips so they could quench their desperate thirst. And sometimes came a more troubling signal, which Duo soon learnt to fear, the ringing of a bell, which accompanied shouting from the crew in the bagging and loading bays below that they were waiting - for all the two slavegirl’s efforts, not enough grinds were coming through. This would summon the immediate attention of the overseer and her deputy, a slightly shorter but strongly-built Germanic blonde, both came to flog the idle slaves with vicious strokes, kicks and curses.
After one such episode, Duo was feeling utterly broken and sinking into despair, she glanced across to Uli, who seemed unmoved, simply accepting it all, but she was looking Duo’s way and gave her an encouraging smile. Hecate, thought Duo, that girl thinks she’s better off here than she was in Ultima Thule – whatever kind of a shit-hole must that place be?
Duo had long since lapsed into a kind of exhausted daze when she became aware of two figures in the cellar, at first she cringed, expecting more whip-weals, but these weren’t her bullying tormentors, they were men. One a grey-haired gent with a pleasant, grandfatherly look, though one eye was pemanently closed, and his nose impressed Duo with its curious shade of blue. The other was a rather taller, lanky fellow with a casual air, wearing a wide-brimmed yellow felt petasus.
They watched the naked, sweating slavegirls plodding on with their labour with evident satisfaction for some minutes. “So, Arbor,” Duo heard the elder say, “Here’s where the magic is performed, here’s where Uli grinds her special blend!” “Sure,” replied the other, “Though I reckon the real magic’s in the guts of those desert cats.”
The old gentleman held up his hand, signalling to Uli to halt, Duo rested on her beam, panting quietly. She noticed the two overseers were watching with sour faces. “This is Uli, our premium grindslave,” Uli bowed as low as she could on her beam, and flexed her knee. “A pleasure to meet you, grindslave,” said the guy in the hat, “Your slavegirl is honoured Sir,” she replied in no more than a whisper, Duo could see she was blushing. “She sure is,” he replied with a chuckle, “I guess grindslaves don’t get to meet the Imperial Praefectus of Liquid Refreshments every day!” Uli’s crimson spread down to her small but shapely breasts.
“Uli’s not only a grindslave, she’s our bardslave too,” the grandfather continued, “While she’s working, she’s making up songs and stories!” “Wow!” Arbor was impressed, “Have you got a song for us today, slave?” “Er, well, yes Sir,” she responded shyly, “We were at the slave-market yesterday and I made up one there while I was watching – would you like me to sing it, Sir?” “I sure would!”
Uli drew herself up, tossed back her dark brown hair, took a deep draught of burning, roasted air, and began to sing in a clear tone that rang around the cellar, her body swinging and her bare feet tapping to the rhythm of the tune.
Quiet Paul
Tribune
Sing? I think you mean scream, Eul. She looks terrified. Not without good reason
Be brave, young slave,
Your girly games are done,
Rome's won!
No friends, childhood ends,
Alone
Some brute's to own.
Your turn, cheeks burn,
Flick back your hair.
Men stare.
Displayed, afraid,
Flesh to be sold
For gold.
Undressed, breasts pressed,
Touched where you know
Men shouldn't go.
You're bare, don't dare
Complain,
Even of pain.
Your girly games are done,
Rome's won!
No friends, childhood ends,
Alone
Some brute's to own.
Your turn, cheeks burn,
Flick back your hair.
Men stare.
Displayed, afraid,
Flesh to be sold
For gold.
Undressed, breasts pressed,
Touched where you know
Men shouldn't go.
You're bare, don't dare
Complain,
Even of pain.
There was a haunting quality to Uli’s melody, an echo of the winds, wolves and whales of her distant homeland, but she kept up a firm, relentless rhythm like the march of destiny, Duo found herself tapping her bare foot, the loose chains on her ankle-irons clinked an accompaniment. The two men looked on, evidently appreciating both the song and the singer.
But suddenly there was shouting from down below, the warning-bell rang. “Eeuh!” said Bluenose, “We’re holding up the works, mustn’t do that – get them grinding, overseers!” The two bitches leapt eagerly to apply their whips to the slavegirls’ backs, Una and Duo resumed their endless plod.
“You can go on singing,” said the old man, “When I was a sea-captain, I always let the galley-slaves sing, it helps keep up the work-rate.” So Uli began her song again, and Duo started humming along with it, the overseers plied the lash, keeping up the rapid beat.
“Who’s this?” he enquired, as Duo strove past him. “It’s a newbie, Sir,” the overseer answered in a sneering tone, “The grindslave was taken off the mill for two days for some duties ordered by Mistress Augusta, so we’ve got this brat to help clear the backlog.” She whip-flicked Duo contemptuously as she spoke, the slavegirl’s head jerked back at the pain, her two eyes caught the old man’s one. “You know, Arbor,” he said to his companion, “that slave-kitten so reminds me of Pompilius’s younger daughter!” “Yeah, I can see what you mean, I dunno Pompilus’s kid, but this little rat’s sure got something of Augusta about her.” “But that Junia’s a nasty spoilt brat, this one’s a well-disciplined slavegirl – aren’t you, eh?” Bluenose slapped Duo’s passing bum, “Yes Sir, thankyou Sir,” panted Duo, hardly suppressing a giggle.
Uli’s first verse, “Be brave, young slave, your girly games are done, Rome’s won!” was a good refrain, the two girls sang it together after each stanza, while the bard added more verses to her sad slavegirl’s ballad,
"Where caught?" "Up north."
"They're wild."
"Just a child –
A kid. What d’you bid?"
"Ten" "No, fifteen."
"Okay, thirteen."
"A deal. Slut, kneel!"
Wrists feel
Bonds of steel.
Now stand the brand
Burning your thigh,
Don't cry.
The man commands.
He rules.
No time for fools.
Walk quick to his stick,
Sharp goad,
Stony road.
"Whore's brat, sewer rat,
How long will you take
To break?"
On your knees to please,
Obey,
Only way.
Rome's home,
Puppy slave,
Bitch's grave.
"They're wild."
"Just a child –
A kid. What d’you bid?"
"Ten" "No, fifteen."
"Okay, thirteen."
"A deal. Slut, kneel!"
Wrists feel
Bonds of steel.
Now stand the brand
Burning your thigh,
Don't cry.
The man commands.
He rules.
No time for fools.
Walk quick to his stick,
Sharp goad,
Stony road.
"Whore's brat, sewer rat,
How long will you take
To break?"
On your knees to please,
Obey,
Only way.
Rome's home,
Puppy slave,
Bitch's grave.
When the long song came to its end, the two men applauded. “We like that, bardslave,” said the old man, “I’ll send up Luna, my scribeslave, she can take down the words, all our Starcrux girlies will be singing it soon!” “Thankyou, Sir,” panted Uli as the mill laboured on. “Well, old oak, I think we’ve earnt a drink, it’s thirsty work watching hot sweaty slavegirls!”
With that the two gents departed. As soon as they were out of earshot, the overseer hissed viciously in Uli’s ear, “Manager’s pet! Don’t think that’s going to save you – your cute caterwauling cuts no ice with me!” and, with an evil up-flick she caught the youngster’s fanny so she squealed and jumped, Duo felt the beam shake sharply at her end.
jonesygirl
Tribunica Potestas
Just a short film to show the operation of the latest gadget for the time...a manually operated-whip driven and eco friendly coffee grinding machine. Two slave power required but will operate perfectly well with just one motivated slave.
Now, while Junia/ Duo's learning that being a slavegirl's a hard grind,
how's her sister Una/ Valentina getting on at Isabella the Insatiable's?
Here's a bulletin from Melissa:
Una has arrived at Isabella's vineyard and it appears she has been given a simple task to begin with. It looks like she is taking refreshments to the grape pickers. Maybe they are allowed a little wine?..but Isabella is careful with expenses despite her wealth..maybe Una has been sent to milk the slave "milkmaids" and make use of the natural resources.
Whatever..the older slave looks like she has been giving Una the lowdown on what she can expect from Isabella and her equally insatiable friends, punishments dished out and sleeping arrangements amongst others. I don't know what Una has just been told but judging by the nervous way she is playing with her hair perhaps it was the possibility that she is initially put in an all girl dorm and being the new girl she would be subjected to an initiation ceremony where she would be forced to use her tongue to give each slave an orgasm.
how's her sister Una/ Valentina getting on at Isabella the Insatiable's?
Here's a bulletin from Melissa:
Una has arrived at Isabella's vineyard and it appears she has been given a simple task to begin with. It looks like she is taking refreshments to the grape pickers. Maybe they are allowed a little wine?..but Isabella is careful with expenses despite her wealth..maybe Una has been sent to milk the slave "milkmaids" and make use of the natural resources.
Whatever..the older slave looks like she has been giving Una the lowdown on what she can expect from Isabella and her equally insatiable friends, punishments dished out and sleeping arrangements amongst others. I don't know what Una has just been told but judging by the nervous way she is playing with her hair perhaps it was the possibility that she is initially put in an all girl dorm and being the new girl she would be subjected to an initiation ceremony where she would be forced to use her tongue to give each slave an orgasm.
Meanwhile, back at the Mill:
The two trudged on, the overseers taking out their spite and jealousy on Uli, and reserving a bit for Duo too, she felt warm blood trickling down the back of her leg, but the sting of the whip was less troublesome to her than her aching muscles, she’d thought the training she did in the gym took her to the limits of endurance, but that was kids’ stuff compared to this – still, she knew there was a pain barrier, you just have to get through it…
A handsome young slavegirl arrived, her hair darker even than Junia’s, bright, intelligent eyes in an olive-toned face. She was clad in a neat slave-tunic and sandals, carried a smart satchel on her shoulder. She gave a polite bow and knee-bend to the overseers, who returned a sour look, but tucked away their whips and departed.
“Hi Uli!” called the newcomer, adding a “Hello” for Duo, who gasped “Hi, I’m Duo,” as she plodded past, “I’m Luna,” the girl said with a smile, “I hear you’ve got a new song for me, Uli?” “Mm, yes I have, but I daren’t stop, we’re on double quota… I’ll sing it for you while we go on grinding.” Luna sat cross-legged like the Eastern market-traders do, down by the cellar wall, took out a classy-looking laptop wax tablet and opened it, “Okay, when you’re ready!” Once again, Uli began her slavegirl song, Duo joining in the chorus, Luna busily scribing. They paused from time to time while she polished up Uli’s Latin, still a bit barbaric. When the song ended she stood up and sang it back, in a melodious voice than rang through the cellar above the constant grinding and groaning of the mill. “That’s lovely,” she said, as she packed away her tablet and blew kisses to the two slaves, “I’m sure Master Admius will be pleased with it.”
H’m, Admius, thought Duo, that rings a bell. Obviously he knew me, or nearly did! I think I remember him – so many guys come to visit Father to talk about boring stuff like money and politics and (mostly) their favourite gladiator-teams…
After endless, mind-numbing hours, a loud, deep-toned bell sounded from the tower high above the furnace, even the deep dungeon-cellar vibrated to its clangour. Uli just called “Finish!” to Duo, they stopped, so did all the other mill-slaves in the vast works. For some minutes they stood leaning on the mill-beam, both panting, soked in sweat. Eventually the overseer arrived, unlocked the two slavegirls, Uli knelt instantly and said “Thankyou, Miss,” so Duo knew she must do the same. Their tormentor took two short wooden staves from a bag and handed one to each girl, snapping ‘Fifteen!” to Uli, who hung it round her neck by a leather lace attached to it, “Eight!” to Duo, who copied Uli while she took a last kick from the she-wolf yelling “Get out, bitch!”
Duo found she was staggering unsteadily, she had to hold onto Uli’s arm as they climbed the steep steps past the furnace, her legs were so shattered by the day’s work, though her companion seem to scamper up like a mountain goat. “What’s this about?” she gasped, indicating the stick thing. “Oh, that’s our punishment tally. You get a punishment point each time the warning bell rings, and three for each bag you're short of your quota at the end of the day. Eight points in one day, that isn’t good – and I already had seven…” “So, what does it mean?” “Well, you’ll see – each day, the slave who’s got the highest punishment tally gets a special prize – courtesy of the Whip-Master!” Uli grinned, Duo failed to see the joke. “But if you’re canny, you can avoid that. Any night, you can report to Master Lucius or Mistress Melissa and ask politely to take your punishment. Then you just get as may strokes as you’ve earnt points, and a new, clean, tally-stick. I generally go when I’m getting into the upper teens, looks like I’m nearly due for another.” “Wow,” gasped Duo, incredulous, “It’s like going for a hair-do!” “ ‘Spect so,” giggled Uli, “I wouldn’t know, slavegirls don’t get hair-dos!”
“I liked your song,” said Duo. They were striding along the ridge now in the glow of the setting sun, the slave-compound in sight, her legs were gradually returning to normal, “Do you make up lots of stuff like that?” “Yeah, well, I think of songs and stories while I’m grinding, it stops me from getting giddy,” she grinned. “Yeah, it’s bloody boring work, I thought I’d go mad. And Master Bluenose seems to like you?” Uli chuckled, “He liked you too – but he doesn’t like Junia!” They both laughed. “I only recognised him vaguely, by that nose – he comes to see father, about tax-fiddles and stuff like that I think…” “Sounds right, but for me he’s the top boss, he’s CEO of Starcrux – under your dad - Master Pompilius I mean.”
Aha! thought Duo, but Uli went on, “But I’ll tell you the reason I’m his pet, or one of them – like he said, he used to be a ship-captain. In fact, he was a slave-trader, the very one who got me up north and brought me to Ostia.” “Oh?” Duo was intrigued. “I think he must have retired on the money he made from selling his cargo, me included, and gone into advising rich men like your father about taxes and trading and stuff. Anyway, when the bean business took off and Master got him to manage it, he was happy to find his bardslave – he always called me that because I always sang while I was scrubbing the deck on his slave-galley! So that’s why he picked me out to grind these very special beans. Anyway, home, sweet home!”
They were back at the gatehouse, joining the line of slaves waiting to give their names to grumpy guards who had to check the register. Each girl showed her brandmark, there was a bit of muttering as Duo didn’t have one, but a senior guard supervising the proceedings said something about Mistress Melissa, and she was nodded through.
As the slaves gobbled their nightly mash – Duo discovering how ravenously hungry she was – a couple of toughs hauled one young, blonde-haired Gaulish girl out of the crowd. She was marched across to the tall pole in the centre of the yard, glancing about her with a look of terror in her blue eyes. Master Lucius was awaiting, he nodded, the guards stripped off her tunic, she removed her loincloth and sandals compliantly, and let herself be chained up against the post. “She’s tonight’s winner?” Duo asked Uli, “Uh-huh.” “Is he going to whip her?” “Not now, she has to stay there all night. Then she’ll get it at dawn, double her punishment points, with the heavy bullwhip. So you see why I go regularly for my whip-dos!”
The two trudged on, the overseers taking out their spite and jealousy on Uli, and reserving a bit for Duo too, she felt warm blood trickling down the back of her leg, but the sting of the whip was less troublesome to her than her aching muscles, she’d thought the training she did in the gym took her to the limits of endurance, but that was kids’ stuff compared to this – still, she knew there was a pain barrier, you just have to get through it…
A handsome young slavegirl arrived, her hair darker even than Junia’s, bright, intelligent eyes in an olive-toned face. She was clad in a neat slave-tunic and sandals, carried a smart satchel on her shoulder. She gave a polite bow and knee-bend to the overseers, who returned a sour look, but tucked away their whips and departed.
“Hi Uli!” called the newcomer, adding a “Hello” for Duo, who gasped “Hi, I’m Duo,” as she plodded past, “I’m Luna,” the girl said with a smile, “I hear you’ve got a new song for me, Uli?” “Mm, yes I have, but I daren’t stop, we’re on double quota… I’ll sing it for you while we go on grinding.” Luna sat cross-legged like the Eastern market-traders do, down by the cellar wall, took out a classy-looking laptop wax tablet and opened it, “Okay, when you’re ready!” Once again, Uli began her slavegirl song, Duo joining in the chorus, Luna busily scribing. They paused from time to time while she polished up Uli’s Latin, still a bit barbaric. When the song ended she stood up and sang it back, in a melodious voice than rang through the cellar above the constant grinding and groaning of the mill. “That’s lovely,” she said, as she packed away her tablet and blew kisses to the two slaves, “I’m sure Master Admius will be pleased with it.”
H’m, Admius, thought Duo, that rings a bell. Obviously he knew me, or nearly did! I think I remember him – so many guys come to visit Father to talk about boring stuff like money and politics and (mostly) their favourite gladiator-teams…
After endless, mind-numbing hours, a loud, deep-toned bell sounded from the tower high above the furnace, even the deep dungeon-cellar vibrated to its clangour. Uli just called “Finish!” to Duo, they stopped, so did all the other mill-slaves in the vast works. For some minutes they stood leaning on the mill-beam, both panting, soked in sweat. Eventually the overseer arrived, unlocked the two slavegirls, Uli knelt instantly and said “Thankyou, Miss,” so Duo knew she must do the same. Their tormentor took two short wooden staves from a bag and handed one to each girl, snapping ‘Fifteen!” to Uli, who hung it round her neck by a leather lace attached to it, “Eight!” to Duo, who copied Uli while she took a last kick from the she-wolf yelling “Get out, bitch!”
Duo found she was staggering unsteadily, she had to hold onto Uli’s arm as they climbed the steep steps past the furnace, her legs were so shattered by the day’s work, though her companion seem to scamper up like a mountain goat. “What’s this about?” she gasped, indicating the stick thing. “Oh, that’s our punishment tally. You get a punishment point each time the warning bell rings, and three for each bag you're short of your quota at the end of the day. Eight points in one day, that isn’t good – and I already had seven…” “So, what does it mean?” “Well, you’ll see – each day, the slave who’s got the highest punishment tally gets a special prize – courtesy of the Whip-Master!” Uli grinned, Duo failed to see the joke. “But if you’re canny, you can avoid that. Any night, you can report to Master Lucius or Mistress Melissa and ask politely to take your punishment. Then you just get as may strokes as you’ve earnt points, and a new, clean, tally-stick. I generally go when I’m getting into the upper teens, looks like I’m nearly due for another.” “Wow,” gasped Duo, incredulous, “It’s like going for a hair-do!” “ ‘Spect so,” giggled Uli, “I wouldn’t know, slavegirls don’t get hair-dos!”
“I liked your song,” said Duo. They were striding along the ridge now in the glow of the setting sun, the slave-compound in sight, her legs were gradually returning to normal, “Do you make up lots of stuff like that?” “Yeah, well, I think of songs and stories while I’m grinding, it stops me from getting giddy,” she grinned. “Yeah, it’s bloody boring work, I thought I’d go mad. And Master Bluenose seems to like you?” Uli chuckled, “He liked you too – but he doesn’t like Junia!” They both laughed. “I only recognised him vaguely, by that nose – he comes to see father, about tax-fiddles and stuff like that I think…” “Sounds right, but for me he’s the top boss, he’s CEO of Starcrux – under your dad - Master Pompilius I mean.”
Aha! thought Duo, but Uli went on, “But I’ll tell you the reason I’m his pet, or one of them – like he said, he used to be a ship-captain. In fact, he was a slave-trader, the very one who got me up north and brought me to Ostia.” “Oh?” Duo was intrigued. “I think he must have retired on the money he made from selling his cargo, me included, and gone into advising rich men like your father about taxes and trading and stuff. Anyway, when the bean business took off and Master got him to manage it, he was happy to find his bardslave – he always called me that because I always sang while I was scrubbing the deck on his slave-galley! So that’s why he picked me out to grind these very special beans. Anyway, home, sweet home!”
They were back at the gatehouse, joining the line of slaves waiting to give their names to grumpy guards who had to check the register. Each girl showed her brandmark, there was a bit of muttering as Duo didn’t have one, but a senior guard supervising the proceedings said something about Mistress Melissa, and she was nodded through.
As the slaves gobbled their nightly mash – Duo discovering how ravenously hungry she was – a couple of toughs hauled one young, blonde-haired Gaulish girl out of the crowd. She was marched across to the tall pole in the centre of the yard, glancing about her with a look of terror in her blue eyes. Master Lucius was awaiting, he nodded, the guards stripped off her tunic, she removed her loincloth and sandals compliantly, and let herself be chained up against the post. “She’s tonight’s winner?” Duo asked Uli, “Uh-huh.” “Is he going to whip her?” “Not now, she has to stay there all night. Then she’ll get it at dawn, double her punishment points, with the heavy bullwhip. So you see why I go regularly for my whip-dos!”
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Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Such a beutiful interpretation......And she has Pp so very excited.....feeling he is the one she watches.
Primus pilus
Magister Australis
Eul's Special Blend, the one Pp enjoys every morning, has one additional and most important early step in the preparation.Goin' for a "whip-do".
This is all extremely educational. I never really paid much attention to the details of coffee roasting and drying and grinding. I'm even happier with it now.
He is about to order his first for the day and hopes Eul has stock prepared. Or maybe not