A Slave Girl in Ancient Rome, Part 2

Kallista the slave girl educates her innocent young mistress about the freedoms and pleasures of women in other cultures

The day of my departure arrived. Livia’s baby was born and I was transferred to Julia’s quarters. Zoe and I cried as we parted and promised to see each other whenever we could. Then I was taken to a small room adjoining Julia’s bedroom and introduced to an older slave called Flora who had been with her for many years. There were others in her service, but I learned that Flora and I would be attending to her most personal needs. My duties included helping her to bathe and dress and apply her makeup. At first, I needed Flora’s help with the makeup, as I had no experience of it. Over time, Flora would also teach me the difficult art of the ornatrice (hairdresser), although I had some skill from working with my own hair, which remained a fascination to everyone.

The young domina (mistress) was a picture of elegant refinement. With her slender body, modest breasts, delicate face and graceful bearing, she was the perfect example of young Roman maidenhood. She dutifully studied Latin and Greek with her male tutor (always in the presence of Flora), played her harp and reed pipe, and practiced spinning and weaving. And her natural enthusiasm and innocent playfulness made her a delightful companion for those of us who shared her quarters. She loved to talk and was curious about the things she was not permitted to see or experience. She was on the brink of adulthood, but apprehensive about it. Sometimes she sent Flora away on errands and took the opportunity to engage me in personal conversation. One day she asked me if I had ever been with a man.

“Yes, Domina.”

“Oh,” she shuddered. “But you’re only the same age as me.”

“That’s right, Domina.”

“Was it awful?”

“No… not usually.”

“But didn’t it hurt?”

“Only the first time.”

Her eyes widened as my answers revealed that I had performed the act repeatedly.

“I don’t know if I would ever want to be… penetrata,” she confessed.

“It’s usually pleasurable, after the first time,” I assured her.

“Well,” she said, “there are other ways of getting pleasure.”

Then my world and hers collided in a way that neither of us intended or anticipated, because I mistook her meaning.

“Do you mean what girls sometimes do to themselves, or each other… without penetration?” I asked, trying to be polite and indirect.

Her eyes widened again. “What do you mean?”

I immediately realized I’d misunderstood. “Perhaps we shouldn’t discuss this, Domina.”

She was about to respond when we heard Flora returning and I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

My favorite times with the young mistress were her baths. I loved to see her slim, naked body in its unadorned perfection, and she insisted on me joining her so I could help cleanse her skin and wash her hair. I was surprised that the Romans didn’t use soap like we had in my country. Instead, they covered themselves in oil, then scraped the oil and dirt off with a blunt blade. I looked forward to this especially, as it was my job to apply the oil, and I could run my hands all over Julia’s beautiful, supple body with the ostensible purpose of collecting all the dirt, of which there was hardly any. Her skin was perfectly smooth and completely hairless. Like other wealthy Romans, she had all her body hair removed by a servant trained for the purpose. My application of the oil to her exquisite body often turned into a massage, which she always enjoyed, apparently innocently, even when I oiled her vulva because, as she agreed, those intimate places needed cleaning too.

The day after our conversation about my experiences with men, she raised the subject again as we were beginning her bath. She sat dangling her legs in the water and asked me what I had meant when I spoke of girls doing things to themselves, and each other, without penetration.

I paused. “I only meant, as you said yourself Domina, that there are other ways to get pleasure.”

“What kind of pleasure?”

“Sexual, Domina.”

She blushed. “Well, that’s not what I was thinking of. But how can a girl give herself, or another girl, that kind of pleasure without a man? Who would be the active partner?”

“By active, you mean… the penetrator?”

“Of course.”

“Well, that’s what I was saying, Domina. You can experience sexual pleasure without penetration.”

“But how?”

“Well, you know when I cleanse your body, and I apply the oil… between your legs?”

Her face brightened. “Oh yes, that’s the best part – a delicious feeling.”

“Well, Domina, that’s a sexual feeling.”

“No! How can it be? It’s on the outside.”

“That’s right, and it’s something a lot of men don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the easiest way for many women to… be sexually satisfied… is to be stimulated there, on the outside. But men get the most satisfaction from penetration, so they often don’t pay much attention to the outside.”

“By sexually satisfied, you mean… the resolvō, the climax?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I don’t believe in that! Isn’t it just something that men made up to get us to have sex with them?”

“No, Domina. It’s very real, and very pleasurable.”

“Like when you use the oil… down there?”

“Like that, only more so – more pleasurable, more transporting, and more satisfying.”

“That’s hard to imagine.”

“Yes, Domina. It is hard to imagine if you haven’t felt it. The only way to really understand it is to experience it.”

She hung her head momentarily in recognition of what this meant, then she looked up shyly. “Will you help me experience it?”

“Of course, Domina. It would be my pleasure.”

So that day I oiled and massaged her beautiful body with a new freedom because I had a license to please her. To begin with, I focused on her breasts.

“Is this a delicious feeling too?” I asked as I massaged her perfectly formed mounds.

“Mmmm, yes. Not quite as delightful as… down there… but very nice.”

“I have a friend who climaxed from having her breasts massaged,” I told her.

“No!”

“Yes.”

The friend was Zoe, and I had performed the massage with my lips and tongue, but I spared the young mistress those details.

“How many ways are there to… get there?”

I moved my hands down to work on her belly.

“Well, some girls climax from having their anus stimulated.”

“No!”

“Yes, but that usually involves penetration.”

“Oh! How horrid!”

“The surest way is… down here.”

I moved one of my hands down between her legs, caressed her vulva and gently parted her labia. She gasped as I slid a finger over her clitoris.

“This is where the magic happens,” I said quietly.

I began to move my finger with a gentle, steady rhythm. After a few strokes she moaned, and I applied a little more pressure. She closed her eyes and began to respond with her body, pressing herself against my finger. I added a second finger and increased the rhythm of my movements. Her breaths became more frequent and soon she was moaning with each one. After a minute or two, she was panting loudly and raising her body a little to meet my hand. Again, I increased the pressure and rhythm. She reached out, took hold of my free arm and squeezed it tight. “Don’t stop,” she whimpered. I kept up the pace. She shuddered almost continuously as she strained, lifting her body. Finally, she let out a piercing cry and jolted erratically, her whole body shaking as a chaotic rhythm took hold of it. She cried out with each spasm, clenching repeatedly, until the shocks came less often and her movements finally slowed.

When she could breathe more freely, she let out a deep sigh.

“Oh, Kallista,” she said breathlessly. “That was beyond anything I could have imagined.”

“So now you believe?”

“Oh, yes.” She laughed. “I have so much to learn from you.”

We proceeded with her bath and, as we floated in the warm water, she began to reflect on what she had learned already.

“So that’s how women please each other,” she mused.

“That, and other ways,” I said.

She perked up. “What do you mean? What other ways?”

“Well, the most common way is to use your tongue where I used my fingers.”

“No! What does it taste like?”

“Salty. A bit like fish or oyster.”

“So you’ve tried it?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve done so many things!” she exclaimed.

“Not so many,” I said quietly, but she ignored this, no doubt because she knew it was a lie.

“So,” she continued, “when girls pleasure each other, there is an active partner, really – the one who does the pleasuring – but while she’s busy giving pleasure, she doesn’t get any pleasure herself! At least with a man, there can be mutual pleasure, if the girl likes having him inside her.”

“There can be mutual pleasure between girls too, Domina.”

“At the same time? How? Don’t tell me you can climax with your tongue!”

I laughed. “No. But you can rub your vulva on another girl’s vulva, if you put yourselves in the right position. Then you can be equally active and pleasure each other mutually.”

“Equally active!” She threw her head back. “What strange language you speak. Every Roman girl knows that there is always an active partner and a passive partner – even between two men – but most men are dominant, and women are always submissive. It’s the same outside the bedroom. Men are naturally stronger and more dominant, so they rule over us.”

“In my country,” I told her, “women can be warriors and leaders. They can be rulers of men.”

“No! How can that be? Why do the men submit to it?”

“Because some women show themselves to be good fighters and strong leaders.”

“And there’s no shame in it for the men?”

“No. And some women also dominate in the bedroom.”

“How!?”

“Have you heard of ‘getting on top’?”

She covered her face with her hands. “Yes,” she admitted through splayed fingers. “But I thought only prostitutes did that.”

“No, other women too. It’s common, where I come from. In fact, a lot of women prefer it. They find that they climax more easily that way.”

She was shaking her head in wonder when our conversation was interrupted by someone calling from the neighboring room.

“Dominula!”

It was Flora, using the familiar form of the young mistress’s title – permitted because she’d known her since she was a child.

“Yes?”

“The mistress is expecting us.”

So our bath, and our first sexual experience, came to an end. But of course, it wasn’t our last. A couple of nights later, when Flora was snoring loudly in the neighboring room, Julia woke me and invited me into her bed.

We snuck under the sheets.

“I can’t stop thinking,” she whispered, “about what you said – about how girls can mutually pleasure each other. I think I’d like to try it.”

“Of course, Domina.”

She looked into my eyes. “And I think, when we’re in here, you can call me Julia.”

This shocked me more than anything else we had done. I knew it was a stronger expression of equality than what I was about to show her. I hesitated.

“Are you sure, Dom…”

She put a finger to my lips. “Yes.”

“Alright… Julia.” It sounded strange to my ears, but she responded by snuggling up to me.

“I love your breasts,” she confided, as she fondled them through my shift.

“But yours are the Roman ideal,” I told her. I had come to realize that this was true, despite my pride in my own breasts and their attraction for some people. Above all, what the Romans admired in a woman was modesty, and that included modest-sized breasts. Anything larger looked to them like a sign of overt sexuality, which was not tolerated in a respectable woman.

“Mine are heathen breasts,” I said.

She giggled. “Well, from what you’ve told me, we have things to learn from heathens. And I love them anyway.” She clawed at my shift. “I’d show you how much, if I could get at them.”

We giggled as we sat up and lifted each other’s nightdresses over our heads. Naked, facing each other in the half-light, we leaned in and our lips met in an exquisitely soft and gentle first kiss. Then a second, then a third, then a fourth and a fifth.

“I never expected to kiss a girl,” Julia said, as we settled back down in the bed. “Is it different from kissing a man?”

“Yes. It’s softer and more tender, and there are no whiskers to scratch you.”

“I wonder why more girls don’t do it.”

“Well, they do, in some parts of the world.”

Then she kept her promise and focused on my breasts, caressing them with her delicate hands and sucking gently on my nipples. She was yet to experience the depth of passion that makes a person ravenous for their lover. She was sweet and tentative in everything she did. She was actually being very brave, for a girl who had known nothing about sex until a few days earlier. As she sucked on my nipples, she ran a hand down my belly and felt for my vulva. It was dripping wet, of course, and her fingers naturally slipped between my labia. A sudden change in my breathing told her that she’d found the right spot. She pressed a little harder and began to move her fingers, mimicking the rhythm I had used on her a few days earlier. I began to thrust against her hand, and as she felt my urgency, she sucked harder on my nipples.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” she asked.

“No,” I breathed. “You can bite a little if you like.”

Her teeth closed gently on my nipples in a series of small bites that intensified my pleasure. Then she showed real bravery. She shuffled down, kissed my light pubic hair a couple of times, and placed her tongue on my clitoris. She backed off for a moment, then returned and licked, then licked again. Soon she was lapping at me steadily. I put my hands on her head and pressed myself against her mouth.

“You can suck it too,” I told her.

She did, and it almost sent me over the edge. I lifted her head with my hands.

“What’s wrong?” she asked

“My turn,” I said.

She resurfaced and kissed me so I could taste my own juices. I licked her lips with my tongue. She backed off again for a moment, then returned and took my tongue in her mouth, meeting it with her own. We kissed passionately, our tongues entangling each other. Then I moved down her body, licking her breasts, sucking her nipples, and running my tongue over her belly till I reached her vulva. I spread her labia and pressed my tongue on her clitoris. She moaned loudly.

“Careful,” I whispered. “You’ll wake Flora.”

She gathered part of a sheet and shoved it into her mouth to stifle her groans, but she couldn’t control them completely. This was all so new to her. I sucked on her clitoris and she responded with the same intensity. I decided it was time to teach her the mutual pleasures of tribbing. I threw off the sheet. There would be no hiding if Flora awoke and heard us. I sat up, interlocked my legs with hers, and brought our vulvas together. Then I began to grind, finding the perfect position for our clitorises to meet. She responded as intensely as before, matching my movements and gasping repeatedly. I put my hand over her mouth to muffle her cries. She continued to make whimpering sounds as our rhythm intensified. Eventually, her legs clenched mine, her body convulsed, and she started spasming uncontrollably. I had been waiting and was ready to let myself go. I gave in to the moment and a series of quaking convulsions took hold of me. I shook violently until I eventually shuddered to a halt and collapsed beside her.

We lay motionless, panting, exhausted. Then we kissed lovingly and drifted off to sleep. Sometime later, I awoke to silence and realized that Flora was no longer snoring in the neighboring room. Julia sensed my movements and opened her eyes. I put my finger to my lips and signaled that I would return to my own bed. I kissed her and snuck back to my alcove as quietly as I could.

TO BE CONCLUDED IN PART 3

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