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One Day in Ancient Rome

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The ox drawn cart had just pulled into the city in front of the 8th Street produce market.

Immediately the slaves rushed to haul the crates of fruits and wheat from the cart’s bed to deposit the contents into the market’s bins. The merchant stood barking at passers by that fresh fruit and produce was available at reasonable prices. His bin filled to overflow, he dismissed the slaves.

Roman citizens massed on the street in front of this shop and others like it. The produce markets and pottery shops were open from sunrise until dark.

I came to just such a shop while the sun was still low in the sky casting long shadows. Walking past the bins, I carefully examined the fruits, picking those which suited me. I moved on through the crowd to another shop. Taking what I needed for the household, I directed the slaves with me to lift the crates into my cart. I paid the merchant most of what was in my purse.

By order of the late emperor Agustus soldiers routinely patrolled the streets to protect the city. Like Rome’s other citizens I had grown accustomed to the sight of police on the beat. Every street had it’s own patrol.

“Drusila,” a voice called out loud and clear.

I turned toward the direction from where the sound came.

Four soldiers in a line across the street came walking toward me from my left. They were combat ready with Javelins in hand and short swords in scabbard.

“Centurion,” I answered.

“Would my lady require a proper escort? It is not safe for the wife of an emperor to walk without escort.”

As the istanbul escort wife of emperor Gaius I traveled with five household slaves. They were large, very muscular men captured from some foreign land. The location of their former homeland was not my concern. They were there at my command for my protection, to carry my luggage and my fruit and produce and even drive my cart.

“I’m sure there are more important security concerns Centurion,” I answered.

“Yes Empress,” he answered. He turned smartly back to his men. They resumed their patrol for thieves, would be killers, and potential trouble makers.

At the royal household not far from the senate chamber a company of Pretorian guard stood on the grounds. Some paced from one end of the property to the other. These were Rome’s elite soldiers trained to protect the city from an invading army. They were the best disciplined, the best physically fit and combat trained in all the army.

Gaius Caesar was called Caligula, a name given him by the army when he traveled as a child with father Germanicus on campaigns in Germania. The young man stood five foot seven with curly blond hair and blue eyes. He had a small 140 pound physique. I thought of him as the most handsome man in all Rome.

As I walked inside the private chambers I found him practicing with his sword and shouting about certain senators whom he disliked.

“My horse has more good sense!”

I giggled. As his adoring wife, I trusted his word. I too was aware of certain men on the senate.

“Certainly Baccus is not our side.”

“I şişli escort should have him flogged.”

As an advisory body, the senate was to be respected. Their advice was supposed to be sought in all matters.

“I should disband them.”

My husband could not see eye to eye with the council of elders on issues of foreign policy. Gaius wanted expansion in Britain. The senate wanted to strengthen territories already held there. They were at cross purposes. Gaius didn’t like the governors appointed by the Senate claiming hey were too soft.

Politics did not hold my interest. A woman’s errand was more pressing.

“I think I shall have my hair done.”

“That pretty hair,” said Gaius, “Should be given special treatment.”

The slave girl named Dora had been taken from her homeland as a small child and had grown up in the royal household. She had won my favor from the beginning as we were children at the same time.

With a look and a gesture I summoned her. She walked over to me and politely inquired about my needs.

“My empress what shall you have. What will I do?”

“My hair,” I said.

While she worked my hair I daydreamed about having her. I found her attractive. Her oval face with it’s deep brown eyes, black hair and short, full lips enhanced her beauty.

My hair finished I went for a bath. Roman baths were community pools fed by the aquaducts that spanned from the mountains down to the city, and the fountains which these created. One section was kept at hot temperature while the other was kept cool.

The mecidiyeköy escort crowd of bathers in the pool seemed preoccupied with their own thoughts or their own conversations. Undisturbed, I had allowed my house slave the privilege of going to the bath house. She walked down the steps into the cool water. I walked in behind her. We sat across from one another. I could sense her eyes on me.

I summoned her. In Rome any citizen is allowed to use any slave, even of the same sex, for pleasure.

I pulled her tall, lean body against mine flattening her small breasts against mine. My lips pressed against her lips. As her mouth opened my tongue went deep inside to lick her tongue. I slid my hand down her back to her buttocks and my fingers found the clitoris. My thumb remained there while my fingers penetrated her vagina. Her soft moans became screams as her juices flowed.

After soaking for a short while in the hot water I headed home. At my house more pleasures with another slave girl awaited me.

“Disrobe,” I ordered her.

She opened her robe letting it fall to her feet. I feasted my eyes on her buxom breasts. Unlike Dora, Helen’s body widened sharply below her slender waist.

“Pleasure me,” I ordered.

I lay naked in my chambers.

Her fingers pressed into my buxom breasts and brushed over the nipples. Her hand slid down over the vase shape curve of my waist and her fingers went deep into my vagina. Her lips smacked against mine. My lips returned her kiss.

I rested slowly regaining strength. The slave remained in the room though I had no further need for her services.

Gaius entered the chambers and dismissed the slave girl Helen.

“You like the women,” he said in a mocking tone.

“They pleasure me. Is there a problem?”

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