Don Winslow - Slave Girls Of Rome

Tingling with excitement, I tore at my clothes, snatching off my tunic and loincloth, till I stood in nothing but my sandals, my turgid penis proudly upstanding up in bold salute to the naked woman writhing before me. Positioning myself right between her arched legs, I guided my straining penis to the edge of her gaping pussy and took her abruptly, lunging forward, driving up her wet, pulsating vagina in a single powerful thrust that caused the girl to stiffen and draw in a sharp hiss of breath through clenched teeth. I clamped her slick hips and, holding onto her with both hands, wiggled my loins while thrusting upward, burying my engorged prick up her cunt to the hilt The impaled slave threw back her head and let out a low shuddering moan of deep satisfaction.

The heavenly feel of the girl’s tight young pussy was exquisite. I fucked her with deep, full thrusts, speeding up till my hips were bucking with furious abandon, powering my prick into her with maddened lust, crazed to see the slave girl’s hot, twisting body thrashing about in erotic frenzy. She was making tiny little grunts now with each thrust of my loins, a crisp staccato that told me she was getting close to the edge. I held on, grimly determined to match my release to hers. I felt the tremendous upsurge of my climax, and rammed into her, holding myself in place, buried in her churning depths as she gasped and stiffened. She cried out in long, lingering moans as a tremor rippled through her thin frame, followed by a more definite shudder, deeper and more massive. I came in a thunderous explosion of pure pleasure while the slave girl shook and trembled in the throes of orgasmic delight, and then went limp, sagging in her bonds.

After the contest, the exhausted girls were released and allowed a few moments to rest and collect themselves, before being sent to the lake to wash off all traces of oil, and whatever other fluids might be decorating their bodies. They followed this routine with enthusiasm, racing down to the edge of the water, plunging in from the outcrop of rock, swimming and cavorting in the shallow lake, their close-cropped hair wetly plastered down, their hard young bodies glistening with a sheen of streaming water as they climbed out onto the rocks. To see the bevy of nude beauties shrieking and frolicking in the lake like spirited water nymphs was truly invigorating, and already my recovering manhood was raising its head in a definite renewal of interest. I don’t know who first started toward the inviting lake; suddenly the handful of naked male guests were running pell-mell in a mad rush to join the girls. Soon we were joyfully splashing and swimming among them, making mock attacks and being attacked in turn as small feminine hands found our vulnerable parts, exciting us with slithering underwater caresses.

Over the next several months, I got to know Gratius quite well. I became a regular guest at his frequent orgies. He was a man who partook fully of the joys of life, wallowing in lust and indulging his unflagging passion shamelessly. I have observed that every man has some secret obsession, some particularly perverse whim, that were he able to freely indulge, would send him to unimagined heights of the sheerest ecstasy. Gratius was no exception.

Almost twenty years older than I was, he had a wealth of experience in a lifetime devoted to the decadent pursuit of pleasure. But even though he may be slightly jaded in the ways of the flesh, Gratius still found youthful delight in one aspect of the feminine anatomy. He was totally smitten by the well-made female posterior! Gratius was a man who absolutely adored a shapely bottom, and he maintained that there were few pleasures greater than that derived from merrily spanking a choice, well-placed rear end. Enthusiast that he was, he had raised spanking to an art form. It was a sport I had tried once or twice in Rome, but never fully appreciated till I learned the finer points at the hands of Gratius of Bernesium.

I had seen him take the occasional playful swat at the tail of a passing slave girl as she was sent scampering to do his bidding. And of course I had noticed that he was happily engaged in spanking the little slave who had positioned herself over his lap during the battle of the well-oiled “gladiators.” But on that occasion I had been much too preoccupied myself to pay a great deal of attention to my host. It was not really until one day in the baths when I saw the maniacal gleam in his eye as he walloped a bouncing bottom, that I realized the intense pleasure the act of spanking gave him.

Among the many Roman customs Gratius had transplanted to his provincial villa were the pleasures of the bath. A true Roman, he believed strongly in cleanliness, insisting that his girls bathe daily. And of course he liked to join them. On one occasion, we sat in the warm languorous air, naked, being attended to by a handful of female slaves in the short hip-length tunics that were the livery of the house of Gratius. In the thick steamy perfumed air, the flimsy tunics had become moistly transparent, and the wet fabric clung to every contour of their hard young bodies. We had drunk a few cups of wine, and Gratius had grown expansive. I said little, only nodding now and then, while he went on, waxing philosophical. His monologue was on one of his favorite subjects: the pleasures of the flesh.

As he rambled on, I kept one eye on the fetchingly clad slaves, especially a tall, splendid girl, long-limbed, with raven black hair that fell to her shoulders, and a pair of the most startling blue eyes. She noticed my attention, and lowered her eyes, smiling slightly, as though not displeased at all by my obvious interest By now I was intimately familiar with all of Gratius’s slaves but I had never seen this one before, for surely I would have remembered her.

Not for the first time, Gratius was rhapsodizing on his favorite sport, the playful spanking of a delightful female behind, all the while idly watching the little slave whom I had last seen upended over his lap. This was Rhea, one of his favorites, and she was gathering up some towels. As she bent down, her tunic skirt slid up to lie wetly plastered over the top of her exposed buttocks. The gesture was enough to stop my host in mid-sentence. A sharp word of command caused the girl to freeze as she was, her trim rear end half-turned in our direction. It is the irresistible allure of a well-made bottom that appeals so invitingly to the hand, he explained, his gaze fixated on the elegant curve of the girl’s haunches, the seductive roundness of those pert twin mounds. To experience the fullest pleasure, the lecherous connoisseur continued, one must learn to absolutely savor the moment. So saying, he invited the bending Rhea to his lap. He would be glad to show me how it should be done properly, should I care to see a demonstration. I might even want to practice myself on one of the handy slaves, he continued; perhaps the new girl, Maya, he allowed, noting the obvious interest I had in the tall dark-haired slave.

Soon we were both seated with knees widespread on separate benches placed across from one another, with a slave girl sprawled over each lap. The raven-haired girl lay over my spread thighs so that her inverted head dangled down over my left leg, her long hair falling to the floor, while her extended legs angled down till her toes touched the floor on the right I felt her weight on my bare thighs, the press of a hip that rested solidly against my upstanding penis.

Gratius began by running his curved hand up and down the back of the girl’s bare legs; I followed suit, enjoying the smooth feel of those long tapering thighs, while Maya wiggled to get more comfortable. I watched him slip his hand up higher to ride up onto the little skirt and slowly rub the slippery fabric over the taut mounds, all the while brooding on the brevity of man’s life. Then the randy philosopher slid the thin fabric up and over the twin slopes, baring Rhea’s neat little bottom to his insatiable eyes. I thrilled at the pleasant prospect of unveiling the lovely swells of Maya’s upturned bottom. Firmly cupping a handsome cheek through the slippery silk, I gave her a reassuring squeeze. I smiled to see her asscheeks clench instinctively as I savored the feel of her hardened ass.