Chapter 1

If Quintus thought his wife, the Lady Octavia would spend the rest of her life in the House of Scorpions fucking with every ne'r do well that happened to frequent the place he was profoundly mistaken. It had taken her only a month to escape, boarding a ship and fucking all the crew and then persuading the captain to take her along as his mistress, only to jump ship at Alexandria.
Egypt was now a Roman colony and its rulers had scant respect for the Egyptians whom they regarded as troublemakers, like Cleopatra, or a race of natives useful only as slaves toiling in the southern goldmines or tilling the fields. But their women had their uses as domestics or concubines. And they were good lookers. The Roman Emperor played the part of pharaoh, but with little conviction. The once rich and powerful cities of Abydos and Thebes had declined into a collection of squalid villages, hot beds of vice and insurrection. Romans visited the great temples as tourists, and around them brothels and taverns flourished along with the accompanying slave markets and the Lady Octavia lost no time in getting in on the act. The slave women, shipped up the Nile by the boatload sold cheaply to any brothel keeper eager to replenish his stock, for under Roman rule navigation on the river was safe and reliable.
"Keep together, you worthless whores, or you'll get another taste of the whip!"
Africanus had already feasted on the leather thongs swinging menacingly in his hand. Naked, except for a strip of cloth knotted around her hips, she strained at the oars along with four and twenty other similarly attired women, most of them black Nubians, or paler skinned slaves brought from the Northern colonies. The Phoenician had wasted no time in selling her to one of Lady Octavia's agents scouting the wharves of Alexandria.
Begrudgingly, she had to give credit where it was due. The agent was a black woman like herself, but there the similarity ended. Calla was large in every respect, massive wobbling breasts, an equally large bottom and hips, and thighs that could crush a man's skull. But she was not ugly. If anything, she was quite striking in her way. One of those women that men wouldn't immediately choose as a mate, yet having met her fell strangely under her charms, what with her infectious laughter and her brilliantly dyed hair, and those enormous breasts, she was difficult to resist. She also had the same effect upon women.
"I have just the opportunity you're looking for," she told Africanus, leading her by the hand. "A strong, good looking girl like you will do well in Thebes. Rich Romans pay a lot of money for black women."
She was telling the truth.
"And Thebes is a lovely place," she added.
But did not go into details.
"Not if I'm sold into slavery?" Africanus contradicted, sipping from a goblet of mellow wine.
"We are all slaves of a sort," Calla said. "But some of us are well favoured."
The truth again.
"So what do you have in mind for me?" she asked, looking with amazement at Calla's flaming red hair, and the tightly fitting red robe stretching with difficulty over her breasts and bottom.
"A companion to complement a well respected citizen of ample means. She has her own villa, and you will have your own quarters."
The truth, if taking into account any number of companions, not all of them respectable, and her own room in which to complement them, but certainly not situated in the well-respected citizen's villa.
Nevertheless, it seemed a haven after her recent sufferings; what with being ravaged by barbarians and almost butchered by the mad priestess, and then coming perilously close to ending her days living the life of a troglodyte.
Only after finding herself chained to a group of other hapless dupes driven like animals to the dock did she realize the truth.
Plying the oar, she smiled grimly at how convincing Calla had sounded, and how easily she had been taken in.
"Will I never learn?" she muttered aloud, arching her back from the whistling tails.
There was little opportunity to view the landscape, but from a few cursory glimpses, it seemed green and verdant if sparsely populated. Huts of mud and reed clustered together in frightened huddles at the river's edge. Once or twice, she saw vast temples and palaces seemingly abandoned or in disrepair, but the river craft were abundant; boats of all kinds made their way up and down the river. Some seemed so heavily loaded with grain that the water lapped ominously at the gunwales. Pleasure craft of varying sizes drifted happily by, their occupants lolling on divans or sporting with bevies of dusky maidens drafted in for the purpose. Slave boats rowed by near naked men and women came and went, some stopping to unload their cargo, others heading in the same direction up river. Towards nightfall, a brightly painted barge passed so close, the male passengers leaned over the gunwale to get a better view of the naked female rowers gleaming and dripping with sweat.
"You there, hove to!" a voice from the barge bawled, and the order to raise oars came as a desperate relief to the exhausted women.
One look at the goggle eyed male passengers told Africanus and her suffering companions what would happen next and it was not long before they were unchained and clambering wearily onto the deck of the barge.
There were more men than women but rather than wait their turn they decided to slake their lust simultaneously. Africanus sat astride the first and, reaching under her legs, guided his throbbing cock easily into her sweating sex. She sat upright, jerking her hips, hoping to bring him off and get the wretched business over and done with. More than anything else, she needed sleep. Both the heat and sheer exhaustion of continual rowing against the current had all but drained her. Then the flat of a hand landed neatly between her shoulder blades tumbling her forwards. She fell over the man beneath, squashing her breasts against his chest and knocking her elbows on the deck. A pair of hands seized her ankles throwing her legs wide. In the next instant, they were at her bottom, fingertips worming into her crease, pulling it open revealing her puckered bottom hole. The man behind her sighed at the beauty of her buttocks, soft, round and wobbling, so beautiful that he could not resist pinching and fondling each cheek. She grunted as his weight bore down on her back as he fumbled clumsily with his cock aiming it into her bottom hole. One vigorous shove penetrated her arse and her whole body shuddered, trapped between both men now slamming into her. Her eyes misted and she felt nothing but a dull ache spreading through her belly and buttocks. A wild shriek of laughter erupted from her assailants as they both shot their loads and then withdrew making room for the next pair who hauled her onto all fours.
It was as she expected; one man taking her from behind, the other filling her mouth. As the night wore on, she became dimly aware of the men happily changing places with each other for as long as their strength lasted. Overhead the dark, star spangled sky turned to purple, then to pink and a glorious golden sunrise illuminated the horizon.
"You did well," the last man to ravage her bottom complimented. "Where are you headed?"
Her shoulders gave a barely perceptible shrug. "Thebes, I think," she muttered, feeling his wilting organ soften inside her throbbing sex.
He made a mental note to check every brothel until he found her. A woman who could take that amount of punishment and remain coherent was well worth another pounding.
The sun was well above the palm trees when the slaves boarded the boat firmly chained to the oars. Taking the strain, they bent their backs and rowed the craft midstream oblivious to the ribald compliments coming from the barge. It was close to sunset when the first hovels of the once great city hove into view. In semi darkness, the boat master herded the women towards various brothels, pushing them through the doors and happily collecting his fee.
"What a filthy hole," thought Africanus, trudging through narrow streets of dark and airless hovels.
An overwhelming stench of dried fish frying in rancid fat wafted from the open doorways around which hordes of naked children played in the overflowing gutters. Dead dogs and cats littered the unlighted street and from brief glimpses of the hut interiors, she saw nothing much beyond a rude plank bed, a few threadbare mats and heaps of broken earthenware vessels. She even saw a man and woman openly copulating much to amusement of passers by who found nothing unseemly in what ought to have been a very private affair.
At the end of a winding street, the sad convoy halted. Along with two of her miserable companions, she went through the doorway of a three-storied dwelling towering high above the sordid huts. In the dim light, she could just make out an overhanging balcony and large windows, those on the ground floor tightly barred and shuttered those on the upper floors open to admit the cool evening air.
Flicking their haunches with his whip, the drover herded them into an antechamber and moved on, cracking his whip over the heads of the remaining convoy.
"Ah, the new girls," a woman greeted, blasting acrid breath into their faces. "We have been expecting you."
She clapped her hands and a young slim slave barely into her teens came hurrying over. "Show the new girls to the wash room and see they are fed and watered," the woman commanded.
Fed and watered? What did she think Africanus was, a beast? But she managed to hide her feelings as she and the other two slaves followed the girl into a sunken brick chamber filled with water. It might have been stagnant and of doubtful odour, but it was at least wet and warm and complemented with a cake of soap. After they bathed, the girl showed them to their rooms and Africanus thought she was really seeing things.
Far from being a dirty rat infested chamber overrun with flies and vermin, the place was spotlessly clean. A huge bed with carved feet and an abundance of fresh linen occupied the centre of the floor. A refreshing breeze wafted through the open window through which she could clearly see the sky and hundreds of twinkling stars, whilst below the flickering fires of the huts threw ghastly shadows over the hovel walls. The girl disappeared as noiselessly as she came leaving Africanus still in a state of shock, for hanging in a cabinet was a long transparent robe evidently meant for her usage, along with combs, a mirror and all the clutter that women consider so indispensable to their well being, even down to a bottle of perfume.
She was still gazing in amazement when the girl returned with a plate of fish and bread and a small jug of wine, all of which smelt delicious. But something was wrong. She searched under the bed and in the bottom of the cabinet, checked every nook and alcove. Not a whip or cane in sight, not even chains or shackles. But she did find a golden earring that the previous occupant must have lost, probably during a bout of furious lovemaking.
It was worth pocketing.
She settled down to her meal and thought that maybe Calla had not been so much of a liar that she had anticipated. However, it seemed odd that such a refined sort of brothel should exist like a pearl in the middle of a dung heap, but that was no business of hers and, curling up on the bed, she concluded that life in Egypt might not be so bad after all.
Exhausted from the previous days' exertions, she slept soundly and awoke to the soft footsteps of the girl entering her room with breakfast, a bowl of steaming porridge and generous portions of grilled fowl. The girl left without a word and closed the door softly behind her without bolting it Africanus noticed. It just seemed too good to be true, holed up in a brothel where she might come and go as she pleased. No sign of any guards or acid faced harridans to thwart her passage. With a little imagination, she could have been back in Rome if it were not for the rising stench of the hovels below slowly stirring into life. The occupants were making their way to the fields and beyond them, she could just make out the vast temples of Luxor with their ranks of columns and massive lintels rising like the skeleton of some long extinct creature.
It was not until midday that the brothel keeper came into her room. Seen in the daylight she looked middle-aged but had lost none of her fine figure. A white robe, held tightly at the waist hugged a firm pair of buttocks and breasts and had been slit to the hip offering a glimpse of her well proportioned legs. Her hair was glossy black and tied into a long tail behind her head.
"I expect you'll want to meet your customers," she beamed, striding across the floor.
"I did wonder about that, yes," Africanus returned, rising to greet her.
"Most of the entertainment takes place in the hall downstairs, but if a customer wishes to make use of you privately you will show him to your room, after he has paid for the privilege, of course."
"I understand," said Africanus, who really did not understand at all.
Entertainment? More and more she was forming the impression that her purpose was less of a prostitute and more of a tease than anything else. But there was nothing sinister in that. It was good business having splendidly dressed women offering only the barest glimpses of their charms to prospective clients, waiting on them, bending low displaying their cleavages, but keeping just out of range, giving men enormous throbbing hard ons, then charging the earth for a fuck in the privacy of their rooms. Rome was full of places like that. It was a comfortable little niche, if one could get it.
Smiling smugly, she followed the woman downstairs to the hall of entertainment.
The room was larger than she imagined with gaily-painted walls and a profusion of couches and tables laden with copious amounts of wine. She could see at once that the clients lolling on the couches were rich Romans on holiday and indulging in a little illicit sex before returning to their wives. She was not the only finely dressed slave. The two women who had accompanied her there looked equally splendid in their transparent robes, along with half a dozen others who were busy waiting at tables.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the lamplight she saw a pair of wooden frames, two upright trestles with a long stout pole resting between them and beyond that another pole, much stouter than the last, rising from floor to ceiling and another suspended with chains directly overhead.
Africanus, following the woman's' bidding, picked up a tray from a cabinet and carried its contents to the nearest Roman who, despite her expectations, did not fondle her near naked breasts swinging deliciously beneath her robe. Neither did he make a play for her bottom cheeks, but just accepted the drinks she offered and went on conversing with his companion. Perhaps the place was more sedate than she thought, and its clientele content merely to observe beauty rather than indulge it.
The woman clapped her hands and the idle banter ceased.
"Welcome to the House of the Sphinx," she greeted, smiling a row of large gleaming teeth. "Now gentleman you must choose. Don't be shy. Every slave here is at your disposal."
"Oh," thought Africanus, dropping her tray onto the nearest table.
"The one with her hair in a knot," a voice suggested. "Her arse looks solid enough."
All eyes turned on a brown skinned Nubian, her long hair fashioned into a huge knot at the side of her head. She was not as tall as the other slaves, but her figure was good and her arse was certainly solid, as were her firm high breasts. The lower parts of her stomach disappeared under a triangular bush of thick black, pubic curls luxuriously brushed and scented.
"Remove your robe, Weral and put yourself over the pole," the woman commanded.
The girl loosened a hasp and the robe floated into a pool around her ankles. She deftly stepped out of it and advanced towards the horizontal pole. Africanus could see she was already trembling and her nipples had clearly stiffened into frightened points. She stood in front of the pole, its length passing over her deeply embedded navel. In a single sweep, she bent over emitting a slight grunt as the shaft dug into her belly. On the other side, her fingertips just managed to touch her toes. At a signal from the woman male slaves cranked handles in the trestles lifting the pole slowly upwards. Bent over the pole, her arms and legs dangled helplessly at either side, and Africanus could see her breasts swaying under their own weight, her nipples pointing to the tiles beneath. Then the male slaves seized her ankles and drew them apart until her legs stretched as wide as nature would allow. Chains hanging from the trestles were swiftly manacled to each ankle, holding them open and it was possible to see the gaping pink slit of her sex. The male slaves went around the trestles and attached more chains to her wrists. In a trice, these were secured to iron rings in the tiles holding her arms fast.
"Who shall administer the punishment?" the woman offered gaily, accepting a long supple plaited whip.
"You, Akara. You shall flog her!"
The woman bowed in mock solemnity and reached for the hasp at her shoulder.
Seen naked she was more voluptuous than Africanus imagined. For a woman probably in her early forties she had kept herself in good shape. Not an ounce of fat or a crease anywhere, except from the corners of her lips when she broke into her crocodile smile. But it was her magnificent legs and buttocks that held the audience riveted. The calves undulated in a perfect curving sweep to the backs of her knees, and then broadened into the long pale expanse of her thighs. Her pubic bush had been closely shaved and her nipples were now proud and hard.
"Very well, gentleman," she bowed. "If that is your wish."
She took her place behind the suspended girl, a little to the left and at about the right distance to swing the whip directly onto the now quivering buttocks. The girl emitted a sob and clenched her manacled hands. Her bottom cheeks flexed and hollowed as Akara lifted the whip high over her head. She paused allowing the clients to feast their eyes on her flattened stomach and protruding ribs as her arm rose to full height. Her breasts lifted and formed into two perfectly symmetrical globes, and there wasn't a man in the place who wouldn't have given his right arm to have them squashed against his chest.
A hissing whistle broke the silence and in a flash, the whip smacked over the centre of the girl's buttocks. A high pierced shriek reverberated around the walls and Africanus saw the other slaves cringe from the pain burning through the girl's naked rump.
Akara stood perfectly still admiring the effect the whip was having on the blazing buttocks. A long thin red welt gradually formed across her moons and was soon joined by another only a finger's distance beneath it. The girl jerked her hips and calves from the sudden shock. Her buttocks broke into a wobble, softened now from the searing pain burning into her skin. Akara delivered another four carefully aimed strokes, keeping them close together, leaving enough skin untouched for further assault.
She paused again and accepted a glass of wine from one of her naked male attendants, and playfully stroked his hardened cock with the tip of the whip. She played it around his ball sack and gave a harmless flick across his bare rump. The effect on the audience was immediate; some were on their feet and already discarding their tunics.
"You clever bitch," Africanus muttered, watching the throbbing organs nodding at Akara's blatantly teasing display.
Not a word had been spoken or a gesture made and she had them eating out of her hand.
She opened her legs and drew the whip slowly under her buttocks, and with a flourish of her hand glided it through her sex slit, passed it under her nose, sniffed her own juice and then ran her tongue up its entire length. Even Africanus felt her heart skip at such a devastating display of sexual invitation. One of the clients had already shot his load and the young girl slave who had previously waited on Africanus rushed forward and dropped to her knees. He was still hard enough for her mouth to suck off the remaining drops.
"Remove your robes, all of you," Akara demanded, sweeping her almond eyes over the slave women.
Quickly, they loosed the hasps and stood gloriously naked under the flaring lamps.
"This is it," thought Africanus. "This is where we get fucked until sunset."
But not a man made a move towards them. All eyes were back on Akara, now teasing the girl's sex. Open and vulnerable, she could offer no defence against the whip sliding deep inside her quivering tunnel. The pace quickened, her wrist jerking faster and faster until a flood of sex juice dripped to the floor. The girl's moans rose above her gasping pants as she reached her climax and Akara summoned Africanus to where she was standing.
"Open your mouth and suck her come," she said, displaying her gleaming, wolfish teeth.
This was it. This was where she started earning her keep. Her jaw dropped open and she put out her tongue, licking at the juice-slicked plaits as Akara drew the whole whip through her mouth. She swallowed and gulped, tasting Weral's juice lingering on her teeth.
"Isn't she sweet?" Akara teased.
Africanus nodded and knew at once that behind that gleaming smile lay an astute and calculating mind that was dangerous to cross.
"Shall we say, another twenty lashes, gentleman?" she suggested, sending the whip viciously over Weral's back.
"Listen to how she snorts," she laughed, lashing in an upward cut, sending the whip slicing into the girl's sex.
Weral caught her breath and blasted it through her nostrils. A stream of mucus splashed onto the tiles and she snorted like a pig at the trough. Wild guffaws filled the hall at the sound of her reverberating throat.
"That sow needs seeing to," one of the men proclaimed, advancing, cock in hand.
"Wait until I've finished with her," Akara said firmly, gathering the whip into a coil.
One sharp flick of her wrist and the whip uncoiled and wrapped itself around Weral's thigh. Her legs trembled from the shock and louder snorting followed.
"This is the funniest thing I've heard in months," Akara said to no one in particular, displaying her rows of gleaming teeth.
She lashed each buttock in turn, now using her full strength, and every stroke brought forth more snorting and gasping which had her tormentor rocking on her heels. Weral's bottom was a mass of blazing welts and she felt sure it had swelled to four times its size.
"Now you can have her," Akara said, dropping the whip and summoning the young girl slave.
While she slaked her thirst, the man stood on tiptoe and rammed his cock hard into Weral's sex. The girl grunted and jerked her slender hips. Not content with just fucking her, the man slapped her flanks and thighs increasing the pain already coursing through her belly.
There was a short interlude whilst Akara searched the faces of the remaining slaves, deciding which one would be the next to entertain her clients.
"You," she said, pointing her finger.
All eyes turned on the tall and splendid black woman who suddenly felt as if the whole world had shrunk to the miserable dimensions of the Hall.
"Do you see that pole," she smiled horribly, indicating the vertical shaft. "Let me see you climb it."
Africanus swallowed and looked at the pole. It seemed much higher than when she had first noticed it, and there was no doubt in her mind what Akara had in store.
She walked slowly to the pole and reached up grabbing the shaft with both hands. Taking her weight, she lifted herself up and swung her calves around the circumference. Another tug and jerk of her hips lifted her higher. She went on climbing until her bottom was at chest height of those standing around her.
Akara, chuckled and came close, running the flat of her hand over Africanus' thrusting buttocks.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" she taunted, slapping each half in turn.
She reached under the crease and rubbed the black woman's sex, cupping the bristling mound in the palm of her hand and squeezing until Africanus' eyes watered. Then, as if the thought had suddenly occurred, she ordered one of the slaves to kneel beneath her trembling rump.
"Suck her cunt ‘til she comes," she sneered, and then broke into a wild peal of laughter.
Startled at the suggestion, a pale-skinned girl knelt at the base of the pole and pressed her face deep into the join of the rippling thighs. Her head twisted and bobbed as she sucked on the black woman's sex, nibbling at the aroused sex bud and licking the pouting labia.
"These bitches would fuck with a horse if I let them," Akara proclaimed. "See how she works her tongue."
The assembled men could see right enough, but were unaware it was more from fear than lust that the girl buried her face into the black woman's bottom.
Africanus heaved a sigh and clung hard to the pole. It was bad enough taking all her weight, let alone having her sex made wet and longing. Her belly stirred and she felt her nipples tingle. Whimpering softly, she held back tears of ecstasy as the worming tongue flicked rapidly over her clit. It was only a matter of time before she climaxed. Her thighs and calves flexed hard as she crossed one knee over the other clinging to the pole like a limpet.
Meanwhile the whipped girl was hauled from the shaft and thrown over the end of a couch, her legs open, her sex still wet and dripping.
"Please help yourselves," Akara offered, turning briefly away from the black woman. "Her bottom is there for the taking if any of you fancy it."
There was no shortage of takers and the first was quickly behind her, spreading her whipped cheeks and thrusting hard into her bottom.
Africanus bit on her lip desperately fighting the rising chill in her belly. But the effect was not lost on Akara who knew a woman in orgasm when she saw it. She watched closely as Africanus' belly contracted, heaving in and out, her breasts rising and falling, her toes curling, and her eyes mere slits of agony.
Akara's foot shot out kicking the girl away from Africanus' rump. Faster than the men could blink, she snatched up the whip and sent it whistling under the black woman's buttocks. Her whole back jolted from the unexpected shock and her buttocks went into trembling spasms. But she held on to the pole, knowing that if her grip failed Akara would whip her senseless.
So much for sobriety, she thought, knowing now just what sort of place this really was.
"Hold tight and open your legs," Akara commanded. "Stretch them wide!"
Africanus' fists clenched around the shaft and, taking a whole lungful of breath, she unlocked her legs and slowly opened them.
"Wider!" Akara barked, lashing the whip into the spreading bottom crease.
The long shapely legs slowly parted until they were fully spread, each leg jutting at right angles to the shaft. The sight of her straining thighs now iron hard and breaking into splendid hollows was not lost on the men. In a frenzied shuffling of feet, they gathered around the black woman, their cocks at bursting point.
"I must fuck her," a desperate voice whispered.
"Not yet," Akara cautioned, raising her whip hand.
The plaited whip sailed under Africanus' rump, catching the under hang of her buttocks. She squirmed and lifted her hips higher. Hugging the pole, the shaft went hard between her breasts and she couldn't help squashing them against the wooden shaft, giving the impression they were even larger than they already were.
Akara whispered to one of the men who promptly creased with laughter. But Africanus wasn't laughing when the whip sailed expertly against her left flank. She clung hard but could not prevent her body from turning around the shaft.
"I'm going to whip you all the way around that pole," Akara informed her, gathering the whip for a fresh strike.
She delivered four strokes in quick succession, driving the sobbing black woman further around the shaft, and kept on whipping until her victim had turned full circle. But now her strength was failing and she locked one thigh over the other and slid round and round crashing her bruised bottom hard onto the tiles.
Akara stood over her flicking the hardened nipples with the end of her whip.
"On your knees, slave," she ordered, but did not smile.
With a painful grunt, Africanus obeyed, putting her hands behind her back as one of the male slaves tied her thumbs with twine. Akara went behind her and planted the sole of her foot between her shoulder blades. A slow, deliberate shove of her heel sent the black woman tumbling onto her chest. One of the men thoughtfully placed a cushion under her tear-streaked face.
"Have her anyway you like," Akara offered. "Her cunt is still wet and her bottom well softened."
While one of the men mounted her, driving his cock into her throbbing sex, Akara turned her attention elsewhere.
The object of her next torment was a diminutive Nubian, standing less than five foot on her bare feet, but despite her slim frame her breasts were ample enough and the areolas spread over almost half her globes. When she saw Akara's blazing eyes turned upon her, the nipples instantly rose and throbbed, a reaction that the brothel mistress evidently relished.
"Hold your tits," she said, smiling at the thought of what was going through her mind.
The Nubian placed her hands under her breasts and lifted them. The whip she thought would lash onto her raised breasts was tossed aside and it was the flat of Akara's bare hand that smacked over the risen nipples. Not content with just slapping her, Akara rolled the nipples between her forefingers and thumbs, pinching until the girl let out a cry of pain.
"You must admit, she has a fine pair," she addressed her clients. "Just the sort that men like, eh? Full and ripe and so firm."
She slapped the sides of the girl's breasts, going from right to left, striking so hard the whole breast jiggled and shook. The huge discs of the areolas had now turned almost black and the liberally sprinkled pimples stood out and throbbed, but it was her nipples that caught the clients' attention. Each teat had transformed from a soft succulent berry into a hard pointed cone.
"See how they twitch," Akara taunted, wetting the ends of her fingers and rubbing saliva slowly around the nipples.
The areolas spread wider until the palm of her hand could barely cover them, and it seemed that the girl's nipples were twitching in time with the quickening of her beating heart.
"You see how she wants it," Akara announced, now smoothing the girl's bottom cheeks.
At the touch of her mistress' fingers gliding through her arse crease, the Nubian let out a harsh gasp and held her breath. Silently she prayed that her tormentor would not touch her fleshy thighs or pouting sex lips. To her relief, Akara took away her hand and placed the tip of her finger on her lower lip, already trembling from the hundreds of tingling darts paining her breasts and sex.
"I want to hear you pant like a bitch on heat," she whispered, forcing open the girl's mouth. "Put out your tongue and start panting."
The men had crowded around the girl and the sight of her enormous breasts and cute, tight buttocks was too much. Akara was mistress of her profession and knew the effect all this was having. The girl, teetering on the edge of orgasm, longed for any one of the openly displayed erections to drive hard inside her soaking cunt, yet no one could touch her. She stood alone in the centre of the room, her enormous breasts seemingly making up half her body. Her thighs fleshy and quivering shook with desperation.
Shaking uncontrollably, she put out her tongue and started panting, her breath coming in rapid, short inhalations. The men could see her plump belly fanning in and out and her breath getting more urgent. Then Akara pulled off her masterstroke. Taking one of the men by the hand, she led him to where the girl was standing and held his throbbing erection, stroking it slowly in her palm, keeping the purple head only a hair's breadth from the girl's arse cheek. From sheer desperation, the man ground his teeth and clenched his fists. He too wanted his cock pounding inside the girl's cunt. But Akara held him back, deliberately prolonging the agony of them both. She slapped the girl's bottom and breasts, urging her to pant and gasp faster, and at the same time tease her own nipples. Tears of agonized frustration trickled down her cheeks as she placed her hands under her breasts, holding them in her tiny hands whilst she thumb flicked each black tingling bud. Akara led the man to the girl's front and rubbed the tip of his cock through the mass of pubic curls. This was too much, being so close and yet so far. Just one shove of his loins would have penetrated her, but Akara went on grazing the tip under the girl's belly and around the outer fringes of her hair.
Suddenly she tightened her grip and gave a rapid shake of her hand. The man let out a groan like a speared lion and sent his juice soaring over the girl's front. She stopped panting and jerked her head as a stream of hot sperm shot over her face. Another splashed over her breasts and belly. Akara kept her hand moving, letting the man spend all over the girl's pubic mound and thighs.
"Lick your tits clean," Akara crudely ordered.
The girl lifted her breasts, squashing them together and lapping at the streams of sperm trickling into the cleft. She sucked in each nipple, rolling the teats over her tongue and sobbing hopelessly. At last, Akara relented.
"You can have her now if you wish," she said, without a trace of emotion.
It went without saying that the men rushed forward, grabbing the girl and dragging her roughly to the nearest couch. She was on her back with a man at each calf, holding open her legs whilst the first cock rammed into her. Some had reached the point of no return and ejaculated all over her face and hair. One or two deliberately aimed their cocks at her nipples and left them piled with their combined spending. No sooner had the first man reached his climax another immediately took his place. The girl resumed her panting and gasping, but now it came from the depths of her throat, the sounds of a woman reaching climax after climax as each man filled her sex.
Africanus was back at the pole, her arms reaching upwards, her feet on tiptoe, legs widely spread as her lover took her from behind.
"These bitches are all the better for being whipped before and after having sex," Akara told him, coming over to where the black woman was standing. "If you would care to take her to her room, she will be entirely at your disposal. May I recommend a belt? Her arse is strong enough to take at least forty lashes, unless of course you would prefer my own whip."
The man withdrew and although still hard, smoothed his hand over Africanus' rump.
"I think a belt would suit her admirably," he agreed. "Am I free to whip her anywhere I choose?"
"She will do exactly what you demand. If by any chance you should meet with any disobedience, she knows what to expect."
Naked, both Africanus and her lover made their way upstairs, where the air was cooler, the furnishing softer and out of reach of Akara. Only the belt swinging in his hand made her gulp.
"Your mistress said that you are entirely at my disposal," he reminded her, kicking the door shut. "Now I'd like to hear you start panting, just like that little tart downstairs."
He gathered the belt in his hand, and then cracked it over the bed. A great cloud of dust arose from the mattress leaving in its wake a deep indentation in the fabric.
"All right," she said quickly, watching the dust motes settle on her skin. "I'll pant, if that's what you want."
She started breathing fast, taking deeper and deeper breaths. Her bare breasts shook and heaved. Her nipples were already erect and throbbing, and just like the little Nubian, her belly expanded and contracted, breaking into creases across her navel.
The belt sailed into her rump with a hollow smack.
"Faster!" he bawled. "Much faster!"
Africanus' tongue went dry and her head started to swim.
Again, he sent the leather cracking over her naked rump.
"Faster, you idle bitch!" he snapped.
A curious throbbing started in her ears and the room seemed to spin. Her heart definitely quickened and the blood was rushing through her veins. From the depths of her sex arose a strange tingling, one she had never felt before. It was not immediately noticeable but was definitely there and was spreading right through her vaginal walls. He hit her again, aiming the belt under her legs.
"Aaoof," she grunted, and jerked her hips.
"Spread your arse cheeks," he said, his eyes glinting at the tall black woman standing naked and panting like a mare.
She reached behind and put her hands on her bottom, curling the fingertips deep into her crease. Gripping tightly she forced open her buttocks.
"Keep panting," he said his voice softer now as he flicked the end of the belt at her inner thighs.
"Of all the places, he just had to hit me there," she thought, her throat now completely parched, her tongue beginning to fur.
"I'm doing my best," she croaked, taking faster gulps.
The belt struck hard over her belly and she doubled up from the shock.
"Don't answer back!"
"I'm sorry," she sobbed, pulling herself upright.
Her clit pulsed and throbbed and it seemed her labia was swelling and getting hotter. A tiny weep of sex juice dripped from her slit and she caught her breath.
"If you come, I'll thrash you senseless," he said dangerously.
Now she understood. He was going to keep her panting and gasping, making her head swim, standing naked and still, pulling open her bottom cheeks whilst he whipped her. It was all a test, a weird trial of strength to see for how long she could hold back without reaching her orgasm.
It wasn't made any easier when he started lashing the belt into her bottom crease and under her legs, hitting harder with every stroke, landing the belt where he knew it would have the most effect. Her thighs began to quiver and sweat and to her amazement, he knelt at her feet, swept his tongue up the whole length of her inner thigh, and then, after a pause, licked all the way around her sex lips.
"I can't...keep...this...up," she gasped, feeling a cold chill start through her belly.
He ignored that and angled his head into her pubic mound. Africanus rocked on her heels and threw back her head. What was he doing now? His hands were smoothing her bottom, savouring the silky texture of her skin, going all over each buttock while his mouth opened and took in her sex lips. His tongue flicked over her clit and she let out a long howl. She had stopped panting and was breathing slowly, filling her lungs, desperately trying to restore some sort of equilibrium.
But now her thighs were shaking and her legs pricked with pins and needles. To add to the torture he started running his fingertips up and down the backs of her knees and thighs. He seemed to know exactly where to touch the very spots that had her moaning and grunting.
"No one told you to stop panting," he said, coming out from under her legs.
"Please, if you intend to fuck me, just do it," she shrieked emphatically.
The belt whistled and struck the sides of her flanks, and then lashed over her buttocks. A carefully aimed stroke sailed right under her legs and whipped against her belly.
"I'll fuck you when I'm ready," he told her. "Until then I want to see your whole body shake."
He sent the leather cracking anywhere within reach, bouncing it off her bottom, curling it around her thighs, whipping it through her crease and over her breasts. The pain was not so much sharp and hot, but dull and seemingly going deep into her body, titillating every sinew and pore. Her sex juice was running freely now, running down the insides of her thighs in a steady creamy rivulet. The panting had subsided to mere gulps and she tottered and fell, crashing backwards onto the mattress.
He moved fast, dragging her to her feet and ordering her to stand upright with her hands on her head. She waited, trembling with anticipation, wondering where he was going to strike next. She heard the belt whistle and jolted when it lashed over the crown of her buttocks. He delivered ten strokes, each precisely aimed at where he knew it would cause the most sensation, whipping her until blood raced through her veins, but mostly through her sex. Perhaps more from luck than deliberation the end of the belt struck her clit and she collapsed exhausted, soaking the floor with her juice.
"You've come," he said, rolling his eyes. "You were not supposed to do that. Now I shall have to punish you. The mistress told you what to expect if you were disobedient. Now up end your arse."
Africanus struggled on to all fours and thrust out her rump. He gave her ten lashes across each buttock, whipping her as hard as he could, watching with glee as her bottom wobbled and trembled under every blow. When he had finished he knelt between her throbbing buttocks and penetrated her with a single thrust. He rode her slowly, slapping her thighs and back until he came.
"Now you can suck my cock," he said softly.
Groaning from the pain burning through her sex, she got onto her knees and sucked on his shaft, swallowing the last few stray drops that lingered in his balls.
"You can sleep now," he said, "I have finished with you."
Africanus hobbled to the window, not caring whether she was naked or who could see her. The cold night air was nectar to her parched throat and she stood at the cill filling her lungs.
Below, the twinkling lights of the hovels went out one by one and the town fell into silence. It would not be difficult, clambering over the ledge and making an escape. But where was there to go? It was doubtful whether a naked slave running through the maze of streets would attract much attention. But then, having reached the land beyond she would find herself in the desert, cold, dark and inhospitable, and beyond that the mountains or an endless barren plain. She was strong enough to swim the Nile but even if she made it, there was only another squalid town on the other side where she knew no one. Then it hit her, harder and more painful than any whip or belt. She was alone with no hope of ever getting back to Rome.
She knew now that she would end her days here in this rat-infested village, used and tormented, whipped and fucked until she was sore.
She curled up on the mattress listening to the creaking bed in the adjoining room and the soft footfall of her next client coming to slake his lust.

End of Chapter One