Suddenly, Part Three, Life In Rome free porn video

Suddenly Part 3 Life in Rome By Lauren Westley (Authoress Comment: All disclaimers regarding all my writings hold true here. If you think any character was you or any character reminds you of someone then I hope it's either a dream or preferably a fond memory but in any case I hope you are smiling. ) This continuation is dedicated to all the wonderful people who either commented, wrote me or IM'ed me about the enjoyment of this particular story. Thank you so much. There is not a continent I haven't gotten a letter from (email). Apparently this story was in need of being written. I am only thankful the 'ether' of ideas gave me a chance to write it. I will try my best and I am pleased to know we are together. For the realists out there, I hope you understand 'Suddenly' will eventually use up the current and go to the future (in time, not sci- fi). The good news is the blog dates will one day be the past again. (that's after the future becomes the present for you blondes). Finally, please understand Sandra is a composite; she can't satisfy every wish each of you has. I only wish my writing could. However, there is a real Sandra, who is my friend. Yes, she's a funny, sexy, pretty T-girl. Any don't forget to leave a review if you don't mind. [email protected] July 21st ? Evening Blog (cont'd) I couldn't see out of the limo and I'm not sure how long we drove but I'd guess over an hour elapsed before we stopped. The sound of a gate opening penetrated the thick windows of my capture and then the limousine began to move forward again. This time it moved slowly and I heard the crunching sound of gravel. I could feel twists and turns on what I imagined could only be an extremely long driveway. Finally, we stopped; my door was opened by a man in a dark blue suit and a beautiful blue Hermes tie. He was accompanied by two massively built men wearing both matching grey slacks and t-shirts. These men were muscled and their faces chiseled. You've seen them in Hollywood movies. They are the heavies. "Good morning Sandra, welcome to Rome," the suited man said. "Please follow us." He didn't even offer me an arm and when I tried to get out of the limousine in my hobble dress I fell onto the gravel driveway and found myself picked up by the two other men. I know I walked most of the way but these men also held me, under my elbows, so at times I felt I was walking on air. Looking around I saw this extremely old mansion surrounded by very mature trees with a driveway I had just passed over twisting through some of the trees and then disappearing. The entire landscape was impeccably maintained. And, the mansion looked as if it had been built early in the 20th Century, but was also without a flaw. It seemed as if time had stood still for this mansion. It was old but it looked as if the wear and tear of time had never visited. Before we got to the front steps four Dobermans came barking and running around the corner of the mansion. They moved quickly and looked terrifying. I froze like a deer in a set of headlights. The two burly escorts stepped back leaving me alone and scared. As they neared me the suited man simply said, "Stay," and they stopped. Their teeth, bared and gleaming white formed a menacing sight and their growl only reinforced the feeling I was having. I felt they were warning me never to wander alone on the property. I had seen enough movies to know what their demeanor meant but now I faced them without a screen to protect me. My spine tingled with fear. Suited man said to the dogs, "Sniff Sandra, Remember." Just three words like an old computer command. The four Dobermans responded at once and came around sniffing at me. I nearly peed from fear. I only remember the feeling of such a penetrating horror once before in my life. I was a teenager at another school's year end dance. A pretty redhead girl had come outside to the cool air where I was standing. Without any advancement on my part she started kissing me and our tongues met. A moment later her boyfriend and his friends came out. The boyfriend simply said, "Hey, what are you doing with my girlfriend?" Our kiss ended and I turned to face him. He was definitely both stronger and older. In just moments he had thrashed me nearly to tears. The fear I felt then, I felt now. But that time I did pee in my pants and the boyfriend laughed and his girlfriend walked off with him arm in arm. I still wonder whether her motivation was the kiss or to see her boyfriend in action. Some desire by her to heat his testosterone to boiling so she would melt in his arms later. "Now go," suited man said and the Dobermans ran off. After what happened with the dogs and the burly men by my side, I found myself sinking deeper into being Sandra. I didn't even want to be Michael. I wanted to be protected by these men from those dogs. I could smell their masculinity and it felt safe. Why am I acting this way? I want you to know the truth but when I read what I've written here to you I wonder why I am more Sandra now than Michael. I know he's here, but it is hard to find him when Sandra is here in the present with her shaved body, satin panties, bra, stockings, heels, hobble skirt, perfume, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, creams, powder, lipliner, lipstick, lip gloss, filed nails, pushed cuticles, nail polish, toenail polish, earrings, necklace, bracelet, ankle bracelet and a barrette in my hair. At those times I feel there is no way that Michael could show himself. We walked inside through the old walnut front door and onto a limestone floor as a magic carpet to a very strange land. There before me was a grand foyer with a chandelier, staircase and old paintings. People were walking about, but I didn't have a chance to see who they were because the two muscular men put their hands under my elbows again and turned me to my right and glided me into a small office with a gentleman sitting behind a dark walnut desk. The suited man closed the door behind me and remained in the foyer. The office had a fireplace which was out of place for the area of the United States where I lived. There was a mantel with the various silver cups and cut glass pieces. Above the fireplace was an old limestone crest that was set into the wall covering the chimney. It had a bit of soot in the crevices and appeared very old. It caught my attention as I stood there waiting. In the center was a raised likeness of the Roman Coliseum. Under that but still on the limestone crest, in what looked like an open scroll, were the Latin words "Tyrannus Effeminatus Hominum." I stood trying to think what it meant. I hadn't studied Latin but the first word reminded me of "Jurassic Park", Tyrannosaurus, and that didn't bode well in my bosom. The second word, Effeminatus seemed pretty clear making the feeling even more unpleasant. Especially since the word connoted exactly what I looked like right now. But the third word, Hominum I just didn't understand and as I phrase I was lost as to its meaning. The gentlemen at the desk continued rummaging through some papers on his desk. He didn't even acknowledge my presence, but of course he knew I was there. Why was he so rude and demeaning? The two burly men beside me stood at attention and didn't budge. I was nervous. Here I was a man looking and smelling like a girl in my hobble dress while the other men looked and smelled like the men they were. Looking at the crest again I could see some small Roman numerals under the phrase I hadn't been able to decipher. They had soot smeared over them and were they were small but in just a few moments I discerned the numerals as MDCCCXXV. That I could translate easily and my mind swirled with the thought these Roman men had a club that was nearly two centuries old. Shit, now that is an old men's club. What a tradition. What had I gotten myself into? Not only didn't crime pay but the penalty seemed disproportionate for my felonious theft. But there was no way to roll back time so here I was. The gentleman looked up saying, "Sandra you have entered a very different segment of your life. In case it is not obvious to you; this is where you will spend the rest of your five years. Over the next few days you will attend training classes with the other girl who will be here soon." I wanted to sit down but when I moved forward one of the men pulled me back and made me stand between the other man and him. "Sandra," the gentleman continued, (I call him a gentleman by his dress and manner. It became quite clear before long that the men here may be a gentleman somewhere else but on these grounds they would be predators only.) "I will explain a few rules to you briefly so that you don't suffer an extremely red bottom because of ignorance. But remember, neither in the law nor here is ignorance an excuse." He walked around his desk, stopping in the front of it, putting his hands on the desk behind him for support. I noticed a red band on his right ring finger. It was like a wedding band except red. And of course it was on the wrong hand for a wedding ring. I couldn't tell if it was just metal or jeweled as his ring finger disappeared behind him. "You will never take a liberty when a man is visible to you. That means you may not sit on your own accord. You may not turn away. Also, you will not talk unless spoken too. And you will not answer unless asked too. You may not talk with any other slaves or plebeians except for the time allotted each day and only within the bounds of talk you'll learn this week. Also, after tonight your blog will continue but only on a weekly basis. If you understand these few rules answer yes and nothing else." So, my only answer could be yes or silence. I knew right away a very red bottom would come from silence. I also presumed that escaping from here would be difficult to impossible. My red lips opened and the air from my lungs pushed up and forced out the word, "Yes." "Good these men will show you to your room," he said. "Your laptop will be in your room and you will be connected to an in house network. Your status will determine your access and you can finish your blog for today. But your next one won't be written or sent until July 28th and then each Friday thereafter." "One last thing, you can take the little earpiece out of your ear," he said. As I began to hand it to him each of the burly men grabbed one of my wrists and held me while the gentleman opened a box on his desk and took something out that looked like a gun. Not a bullet gun but thinner and a bit smaller. He walked behind me. He must have had a knife I hadn't seen because I felt my hobble dress cut up to my waist. I dropped the earpiece." "Don't move Sandra," he said. And then almost instantly I felt the metal tip of the gun (at least that's what I thought) against the lower part of my ass crack on the right. Before I could shudder I heard POP! And then, a sharp quick pain, yes, in my ass. The gentleman came back around and I could see his red ring clearly. The spot where he had shot me throbbed. "Now Sandra," that is a homing device and that is all the information you need to know." With that he turned and began walking to back to the front of his desk. The red ring sparkled from reflecting the light above. A jewel, I thought, it's some kind of jewel. Then one of the men put his hand around my upper arm. His fingers wrapped around easily. The circumference of my arm was less then the circumference of his fingers so two of his fingers overlapped his thumb. Quite easily he turned me around. He too had a ring on his right ring finger. It was green. I could see it more clearly and it didn't look like enamel. Instead it had the depth of an emerald except it couldn't be since it circled the ring with a thin gold band of both sides pinching it to the band. So, whatever it was, it had been inlaid into a gold band. The little gold I could see was obviously eighteen carat due to its very rich color. Gold was something I was quite familiar with although there is no reason for you to care about that. I walked with them to the other door in the room. They stood there looking at me, waiting. And, you won't believe it. Yes, I was to open the door for them. At least dressed as a woman I expected some courtesy. But no, instead they walked through the open door first and waited for me to close the door and join them. I felt denigrated as I walked down the hall following them. I could hear voices as we passed beautiful wooden doors some of which had a large oval inlay. Some of the inlays were green like these guards rings. Others were red like the gentleman's and some doors had no inlay. We walked through another door without an inlay and finally to a small metal door which had two sliding pieces of steel. One at eye length was about a foot square. The other was a ground level and was about two feet by six inches. I opened the door for them again but this time the men ushered me in. As I walked into the room they pulled the door shut behind me. There was no handle on my side. I was trapped in this small room or what I felt at the moment was my cell. I had experienced more fear since Mr. Smith had arrived at my house then in my entire life. And, this fear seemed to compound with each day. More and more I this diminutive feeling washed over me. More and more I felt the way I imagined a woman might feel alone on a pirate ship. Actually, I would have traded places with her since I didn't know how big this ship was but I did know it had just set sail on a five year cruise. There was a small mattress on the floor and a small wooden desk, with a chair beside it, on which my laptop sat. The room was no more than a twelve foot, sparsely furnished, square. The light from outside came through a slit about six inches wide and two feet high and nearly a foot thick. Clearly the outer walls of this mansion were quite impregnable. In one corner was what I can only describe as an open closet with some clothes on hangers and next to it a very small nondescript chest of drawers. So, if I can paint this picture for you to see, I entered a metal door in the middle of my room. Directly across was the outer wall. To the left of the window slit was my mattress elongated on the perpendicular wall. The desk was to the right of the window and if you turned around the open closet would be to the left of the metal door. On the opposite wall from my bed there was an archway. I walked through and there was my bathroom. Unlike my room, the bathroom was large for any bathroom. By measurement I guessed it to be nearly twice the size of my room. It contained a claw foot tub, a sink, a toilet and a very nice vanity table with plenty of lighting. There were beautiful fine Egyptian white towels and a matching robe. The walls were white tiled to the ceiling with inlaid mirrors making it easy to see yourself from all sides. The vanity table had a large makeup mirror extending out from the wall. This bathroom was much nicer than the one Mr. Smith had taken away from me. The little history I could remember faintly reminded me of the Romans proclivity towards water, baths, cleanliness and freshness. For this nice reward I breathed my first sigh of relief since arriving in Rome. But enough of these details. I went back into my room, over to the desk because I had seen the same crest I had seen earlier on my laptop screen. TYRANNUS EFFEMINATUS HOMINUM glared the screen. I sat down and pressed enter. And, so as not to take all night writing about what happened today, I'll try to be as brief as I can. You are still here, aren't you? You may be my only tie back to Michael because you will know the whole story of how my life changed. Please be here. I need you. The screen came alive with a video. Apparently my Rome was divided into several sects. At the top of the order were the Senators and their Feminae. Those of this sect wore red rings. Next were the Equestrians and their Effeminatae. Those of this sect wore green rings. No man was in a sect below. (You know what I mean. I wasn't considered a man here.) So the next sect below was the Plebeians and they wore black rings. And finally the lowest sect was SLAVES and they had no ring. It was to this sect I now belonged. The video also explained I would only be entitled to information based on the sect I was in. Shit, I am so bored with this crap. Two hundred fifty weeks left and already the world I had known, not just as a man but as an American, had disappeared, vanished. I heard a metal door open and a tray with food and drink slid under the door. There was a note on an expensive note card with the same crest I've already talked about saying, "Do not despair Sandra. Today will be a day of resting in your room. Time for you to get acquainted with our Rome and for you to learn a bit of our customs. The only other time you will be confined to your room, except at bedtime, will be for serious infractions that a spanking can't correct. Most girls here learn what is expected from them and never find themselves locked in their rooms after their first night. A few take a bit longer. I hope you'll be in the former." It was signed with just a large red S. The food on the tray was beautifully presented and although a light low calorie meal it was wonderful. The drink was water. Over the next hours I learned much of what my life would be like as a slave. I also learned that a slave could become a plebeian and a plebeian could become an effeminata and finally one could become a femina. However the video didn't say how. Apparently that would be classroom learning. The afternoon turned to evening. I examined my closet and chest of drawers. Although a slave wore a gray skirt and white blouse, there was much more than drabness to the garb. The clothes were cut short and flowed very sexily. Or lingerie consisted of black embroidered panties with a matching bra; black thigh highs, again embroidered at the top and attached to our black garter belt; three and a half inch black heels; a black choker and a black frilly ribbon for our hair. Also it was expected that we wear fuck me red nail polish with fuck me again red lipstick. That's not what the video said but it sure was the meaning. Also our makeup should be proper for the time of day and whether inside or out. Finally our perfume would be Opium, which we would use more liberally than most girls would. I guess you might say we were to look like fuck-me slave sluts. Funny, I say we, yet at this moment I don't know if there is another slave at all. But the 'gentleman' had said another slave was arriving later today. I wondered if she had arrived. I found it even stranger that my mind so readily attached the word 'slave' to both her and I. July 28th ? weekly blog You are there, aren't you? You must be or I'll lose my mind. Yes, you must be. The Romans haven't lied about anything so why would they lie about you. I'm so glad to have a chance to talk with you again. It's been such a long week. So much has happened I can't even try to tell you about it in chronological order. Instead I'll use the strongest memories first. I was bringing a drink to a Senator in the common area when it happened! More then half the house and most of the grounds are off limits to slaves. Oh, and yes there are other slaves (more about that later). Just as I was nearing the Senator I bumped into an Equestrian. I think he moved into my path... don't even think it Michael, my red bottom seemed to answer. So I bumped the Equestrian and said, "Excuse me." That was not a good idea. This Equestrian was quite large compared to my moderate frame. He turned and with his hand wide open slapped my face. I didn't want to but I started crying. And that's another rule. You can cry and whimper but no yelling or shouting. For me, at that moment, the crying felt more natural anyhow. Then this Equestrian grabbed my ear and twisted me right up close to him saying into my pained ear, "walk with me you little slut slave. We'll let every Roman here today enjoy your punishment." Struggling alongside him, my heels clattering with my silky stockings climbing up my legs until the naked skin of my exposed thighs tried to keep pace. Between the ends of my stockings to my waist wrapped with an embroidered black garter belt, my silky constraint of lingerie held me a slave by the small bands of the garters which ran up to my wrapped waist. As such I could only respond as a girl in trouble. I wanted to beg, but knew I wasn't allowed to talk. So, I whimpered little sounds as the Equestrian pulled my ear and thereby dragged me to the center of the great room. Senators, Equestrians and Feminae were either sitting around talking or standing amused while watching me stumble in my high heels with my ear being pulled. I finally arrived at his destination. Then the Equestrian said to me. "Bitch, you will not be bound, but you will be punished. You will stand here and when anyone approaches you, lift your skirt, turn and give them a good target to mete out your punishment. Your punishment will not end until a Senator says you may go. Until then you will remain here obedient and docile. Still whimpering outside, inside I was begging Michael to come back and rescue me. But he had almost disappeared. And how could he rescue me. Michael was not much of a man compared to these Romans. Physically Michael was week. He had always relied on his learned skills to compete with other men. Here in Rome it would not have done him much good. So much training had occurred during the week I had forgotten about Michael until writing this blog. Do you know why? Why am I Sandra? Oh yes, I remember. I think I know why I am. At least one of the reasons must have been exactly because Michael was not physically much of a man. And the other reason I thought of was... (This part is censored by a Senator) There I stood in the center of the room. A Senator, (you know them by their red rings. I told you that; didn't I?), approached. Beneath my skin I felt myself shaking in fear. I had already been spanked several times over the past two weeks and knew a Senator wouldn't spank me lightly. My spankings had increased since I had arrived in Rome but I had not been spanked in a public forum. (Oh my, isn't forum Roman too?) As he neared I felt his eyes burning through my mascara and deep into my eyes. He was flush from drinking and had a small grin of cruel dominance. I lifted my skirt and turned around with my black pantied clad ass facing him; almost asking him to do what he did. Whaaaaack! The sting beginning at the spot he hit on my ass and then sending in an instant the flash of pain and humility to my brain. By the third hard whack my brain signaled me to cry. By the fifth and final smack, as I hung bent over looking at the floor, I could see the wetness of my submission glisten on the floor. Several tears had fallen by then. "Slave cunt, stand up," he said I reacted immediately especially after all the things I had learned over the past four days in Rome before this had occurred. I knew to just let my skirt fall from my hands and I also knew not to let my hands even near my sore behind. But, what none of you probably know is the feeling of quivering I felt as I submissively came back to erect. At that moment I knew what girls feel when they say, "you almost made me pee in my panties." Although their comment is usually about something funny it was just as poignant now. I had not only lost control of Michael but at this moment I realized I didn't even control Sandra. It was like a twist on Descartes. I am in Rome therefore I can't think. Over the next hour or so, slaves don't have portable timepieces; I suffered at the hand of several Senators and a few Equestrians. By the time my punishment was over my behind felt as if I had sat on a barbeque grill for the past ten minutes. Oh, I know, you wonder why I said 'timepieces.' That is part of the training. It seems the goal is to push us into a world so different from where we started we will only know of this world called Rome. I'll give you some quick examples of what I mean. The first morning after my arrival last week I attended a class given by an Equestrian. My computer generated a map of Rome as a slave. Where there were doors slaves could not enter the map did not continue. The hallway I had walked with the Equestrians (as I found out my first night of study alone) to my room continued on the map. Other than the green door I had passed yesterday there was only one other non accessible area which was clearly marked on my map as "Plebeian's." The green door I had passed yesterday said "Effeminatae." The map showed several other doors and the room they opened to. For example, I had access to the Great Room but the map only showed one door and not the open entrance I saw when I first came to Rome. If I had entered the Great Room through the foyer when I first came to Rome I would have been harshly punished. None of the rooms I was allowed to enter had just one door but I could only come and leave by the door permitted by the map. The classroom was a small room further down the hall from my room. It was the second door on my right after making a right out of my door. The first door was the Slaves' and Plebeians' dining room. However, I had instructions that I would not be allowed to use the dining room until lunch time of my first day. I would attend my first class, as the video presentation on my laptop had explained. So, some time early in the morning a bell that rang from my computer on the desk. I knew this meant for me to get up and get ready. I also knew the next bell wouldn't sound for quite awhile, but when it did I was expected to be ready and leave my room immediately going to the classroom on the map. Through my little window I could see the morning light was just beginning to light the horizon. I guessed it was around 6am. I went into my bathroom, filled the bathtub with warm water and a wonderful orange scented bubble bath. The bottle said Orange Blossom Bubble bath by Squirrels Nest. There were also in script the words, "True Goddess Custom Blend Bubble Bath. It may seem odd how can so readily remember the label but it is because of how nice I felt lying in the tub my first morning. The warmth of the water and the orange aroma relaxed me and I didn't mind shaving my legs, underarms and face that morning. But, I did think about how I could stop all this hair of mine from growing so it would allow me more time to just soak. After my tub, I luxuriated in my bathroom. It was so nice compared to my Spartan room. At some point, although by now my window showed it was daylight, the second bell rang. Fortunately I was ready. I had had my breakfast which had been served through the slot on the floor earlier. If you call it breakfast. There was a plain yogurt, green tea and a slice of whole wheat toast without butter. I left my room dressed in all my new lingerie, grey skirt (did I tell you it had slits on both side?) and four inch heels. My makeup had gotten better but was no where near good enough. The red nail polish on my fingers was done adequately but my toes looked a bit messy. I was happy they were under my black stockings. And with my red lips covered with a rich lip gloss I am sure I looked every bit the slave slut the Romans had contemplated. As I walked down the hall I passed two others dressed similarly as myself. 'Other slaves', I thought. Neither had a ring on and I didn't know yet how to tell the difference between salve and plebeian. Just so you know, the plebeians have a small red ribbon band at the top of their stockings. It weaves in and out (red and black) and I wasn't looking that closely my first morning. As I noticed, later one day after learning how to tell the difference, one was a slave, young, about 25 years old. The other one of them was a plebeian, she was five or ten years younger than I and that made me wonder again why they would choose someone who was 38 years old. Wouldn't these Romans want young nubile slaves? Women like the slave I encountered in the hall. I found the answer to that at my first class. But, I digress, I entered the classroom. It was small with no chairs or desks for the students but a desk and chair for the teacher. When I got there the other slave was already standing in the room. She had moderately cut brunette hair and was wearing the same thing as I. I did notice her makeup wasn't put on nearly as well as mine and she was a good ten years older than I. Our teacher entered. He was an Equestrian. "Good morning Lauren and Sandra," he said. "Let us begin." And with that the next three hours were spent standing except for a ten minute break every hour when we could sit on the floor. It was here, sitting on the floor, at our first class when Lauren and I knew we would be friends. We couldn't talk but we did smile at each other. We learned, between that morning and the next day of class, most of what we needed to know about Rome. And our laptops revealed nearly all the rest of life as a slave slut. The reason for Lauren or for me to be there was our time wasn't until now and the Romans did not think of age as anything but the natural progress of life. In class we learned permission to talk with each other was granted in either the dining room or another room which was further down the hall on the left. Lauren let out a little 'uh' when our teacher said its name, 'Penetralis.' I nearly choked. But I think we were both misunderstood by our teacher. "Girls," our teacher said, the word 'Penetralis' "does not mean some sexual thing to get giddy over.'Penetralis' is Latin for a meeting room. It is here you can relax a half-hour before and after dinner." The strangest part of this wasn't the word, 'Penetralis', but instead it was the first time I hadn't cringed hearing myself referred to as 'girl.' Why do you think that was? I spent some time later thinking about it. Is it possible I had some deep desire to be a girl? I tried to think back on my life. I'd never sucked a cock. I'd never had a cock in any part of me. Oh, I had noticed in college and then again in the men's room at work that most men seemed more endowed. But, I had never heard a woman I went out with complain. Lauren and I had a cosmetics class once a week. I was definitely a faster learner than Lauren, but still I hadn't gotten it perfect. When we did talk in the dining room or the Penetralis Lauren would ask me for tips on how to look prettier. Can you believe that I was telling someone else how to make her eyes more appealing? What road had I come down to arrive here? Oh, sorry. As we learned from our laptops each room was marked in Latin and I'm sure you don't want me telling you each one. But to begin my Latin knowledge with things like, Tyrannus Effeminatus Hominum and then Penetralis didn't really make me want to learn Latin. However, some of the names just seemed to fit their Latin names. There are so many things to tell you about over this past week but, according to the rules, I only have one minute left before I must end this blog. So, I'll tell you this. A slave can become a plebeian by meeting both known goals and unknown actions which are voted on by the Equestrians. I don't know what goals and I am watching the other slaves and plebeians to see if I can discern them. Lauren is already acclimating much quicker than I could. She told me yesterday she had heard two plebeians talking in the dining room about how much nicer their bedrooms were. Maybe I'd better try to see what I can do. There are only two other slaves. One seemed to cry every day by herself and the other seemed a little nutty when Lauren and I said hello to her earlier this week. Until next week! August 4th ? weekly blog So, as you found out last week, my time writing these blogs is constricted. I can't tell you everything and I'm not sure what is important to you but what I do tell you is in the order of how they either affected me or I remember them. Earlier this week I found out the slaves are rarely used sexually. This apparently is different from the real Rome. Lauren and I could only surmise we had to earn the right to be sexually used. We both wondered if this was one of the unknown actions necessary to be further up in Roman society. Can you believe it? I am thinking about social climbing by doing something that would, in the eyes of the Equestrians, seem sexually desirable. I'm not going to tell you all the goals. Most of them you can figure out such as our conversation can only be about how we put on makeup, shaving our legs, thoughts and actions of femininity. Violation of such was swift and as of yet unknown. The crying girl came over where Lauren and I were sitting, while we were relaxing in the Penetralis and began to say something about how she didn't belong here. She was a man not a girl. Well, faster than the words crossed the air to our ears two Equestrian guards came in and forcibly removed her. We haven't seen her now in over three days and we can't even talk about it. So, I'm thinking to myself, 'did they put her in isolation.' This seemed pretty funny because we were already in 'isolation.' And then a dark thought came about perhaps they killed her. And rather then laugh that idea off, it repeated itself in my brain several times and sent shivers up my spine. So I as Camus described in L'Estranger and so aptly put in these words from 'Gone With The Wind', "I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow." Oh, I'm sure you are wondering, 'what do the slaves do?' "Who cleans and cooks?" I tell you about that later but first I have to tell you this. I think I have cleverly come up with an 'unknown action.' Yesterday when I was in the game room, (you don't need to know the Latin name for everything do you?) an Equestrian was walking by and looking at me. I turned my eyes down and moved my face to a profile. He stopped. Now at that moment I had two thoughts. First, I had done something to make a man stop. And second, was this a good idea? He took my hand and put it down his loose drawstring pants. (All the Romans here wore that kind of pant and a loose shirt. The pants had gold stripes along the zipper flap indicating their rank. The more gold stripes on their zipper flap the higher their rank within their sect. More on this later, but you have to get really close to know. So slaves have to check rings and crotches at all times. I'll tell you why later. I could only see one stripe on this Equestrian. My hand went behind his pants as he held my wrist. Michael screamed inside me to stop. Not to do it. I hesitated for just a second (that hesitation cost me later) swallowing Michael and my pride I opened my hand and felt his thick cock fall into my hand. I had never held a man's cock. What little of my manliness I had maintained scurried off in an unknown corner of my mind. You know I sucked Mr. Smith off, but for some reason this act felt lowlier than Mr. Smith's cock in my mouth. It was even more humbling than holding Mr. Smith's cum in my throat. Can you understand what I am saying? Does it make any sense? Just writing it here and now I felt tears come to my eyes. Could this feeling be a reason why? I know I've told you the other two reasons, Michael appeared more effeminate and of course the biggest reason why I am here is the fact that I(............censored). As I held his cock, the Equestrian looked at me and I kept my gaze on his crotch. This we had learned in class. That was the reason for the stripes. It was for us to know their rank. It was for us to respond based on their rank. You see an Equestrian with one stripe could not do what a Senator could do. There was much regimen to this 'men's club'. The Equestrian said, "Slave, try and become a Plebe and I'll let you suck my cum into you. My cum in you will enhance your submissiveness moving you forward on your journey." Here was a clue to my life in Rome. Just as the teacher had said in class and Lauren and I had talked about one day at lunch time. For a moment I didn't even realize my hand was holding his cock. The Equestrian, still grabbing my wrist, pulled my hand from his crotch to my face saying, "Sniff the essence of your life. Now go stand in that corner smelling your hand until a Roman gives you permission to leave." I walked to the corner with my hand to my face. The smell was deep of testosterone. It wasn't perfumed nor was it dirty. It was the smell of man. A smell I hadn't had in weeks. It penetrated my nostrils and filled my air passages. I could feel the osmosis of his aroma become a part of my body and then I fainted. August 11th ? weekly blog Oh, yes, I wanted to tell you what a 'Slave' is here. I mean what it means to be a slave. Also, I am trying to become a Plebeian and I'll tell you why. I'm not always sure of what I've said before. Did I tell you I can't keep copies of blogs? So if I repeat myself on something or forget something you'll understand, won't you? When I first heard the word 'Slave' it conjured up all sorts of images. From servitude of cleaning, cooking to the more frightening concept of various records over the millennia about what had been done to slaves. But we slaves in Rome were different. We didn't have to cook or clean. There must have been others who did that. I know it's not the Romans because I've heard them talk about the 'staff'. We do hear things. It's odd when someone is feeling you up (gosh, that is the phrase a girl would say, but I said it. Guys don't say that when a girl is touching them. What do they say? I can't remember). But the Romans will take their liberties and talk amongst themselves. I could be in the Great Room standing by a Senator sitting in a big leather chair with his hand on my thigh where my stockings and skin meet as he talked with another Senator who was just walking past the Senator. So, we didn't have to do all the menial things you'd think a slave would be forced to do. Oh we may be asked to get a drink from the bar for a Roman. And we had learned how to make several drinks and how to prepare a cigar for a Roman. (Did you know women used their nails centuries ago to pinch the tip of a cigar for the man? Men didn't prepare their cigars then and they don't here in Rome either.) Oh, so often I go off on a tangent. Anyhow this is the time I heard the extra cost for help was all the secrecy and the cost of maintaining their one mile underground subway car. Apparently there were no windows and one of the staff had complained it was claustrophobic. That was all I learned then about 'staff' but I also learned something more frightening about myself. I could feel myself getting a bit aroused and the Senator knew it. He had me standing there for nearly an hour as he kept putting his hand under my skirt. He'd put a finger on the elastic band of my panty were my leg came out. Just move it a few inches in either direction. I could barely stand. I guess I also forgot to tell you something else which may help explain what was happening to me. Slaves were not allowed to, how do I put this? Michael would have said, "jerk off." Now nearly a month had gone by and I hadn't had an orgasm. I think I got more aroused because of this. And don't you dare say, "What about when you were at your house with Mr. Smith?" Because there was no way I even thought about it then. However, I have thought about it a lot this past week. Especially since I have fifty-nine months left to go and with the implant, the dogs and obviously other security measures it didn't seem like I'd be out of here before I would explode. Also, since there was no way I would be having any sex with a woman, I thought it would be better for me to think like a woman and then if I had sex with one of the Romans I could cum. Oh, gosh, (where are my curse words?) I hope whoever is reading this isn't one of those people who think, this is impossible. No way would I do that. No way would I think that. Please when I get out of here, if one of you are like that don't ever tell me or talk to me. I'd just die of shame if you did. August 18th ? weekly blog Was my last blog shorter than the others? I'll tell you why I ask. I seem to remember I had finished before my allotted time was up. Why wouldn't I have kept writing? Good news, Lauren, gave me a heads up on another way to get to be a Plebe. (Oh, the small L in Lauren makes you wonder if I've lost my grammatical sense. No I didn't, here in Rome we are allowed to send emails, one a day per person, to any friends we may make. Well, Lauren is my only friend and it was she who said she preferred the small L. Only problem is this fucking Microsoft software keeps capitalizing it at the beginning of every sentence no matter what I do. Hey, where is their stock? Last I looked it was around 23 in July.) So, Lauren said to me she had curtsied at one point and was told she was improving. Between ourselves, yes she's my girlfriend, we've discussed many other ways to improve our lot and hopefully go forward. And, you won't believe this. I checked my account the other day and it was worth nearly $1,000,000. I guess they were telling the truth. They must have sold my house etc and it all added up to this number (I don't know if it's in Stocks or Bonds.) The good news is I thought everything I had would be worth around $700,000 (excluding the money from Michael's dumb ass scam). Is it possible they are crediting my account with that money? I hated the last time I was punished. It was much worse than the time before when I hesitated. Did I tell you what that Equestrian made me do with my hand in the corner? Stand there with his scent on my hand breathing it in with my nose. What a mean thing and he said I could only breathe through my nose. Well this was much worse and I didn't even do anything. I was walking in the Sun Room. Oh, that's another room where we can go. It has these multi-paned windows all the way around so it was just gorgeous seeing the outside again in so broad a stroke. Also the Sun Room has some steps leading to a small walled garden with a Sun Dial. Yes with Roman Numerals. Lauren seems to have progressed a bit faster than I since she was given permission to go to the Sun Room two days before me. I tried to be so good those two days. Also, I've learned the Romans are fairer about some things. Once you are given an advancement it is never taken away. It's a bit like hopscotch. I'll have to tell you more about that later, but yes, we have a regular workout routine and a gym for Slaves and Plebeians. But I'll get back to my punishment while I was in the Sun Room. I was standing near a window looking out at the sky. You can't see too much since there is a wall and hedge higher than my eyes to see over (or Lauren's), but nevertheless it was beautiful. I could see treetops and blue skies. I could feel the warmth of the sun. It was so nice this new, what should I call it, reward? I seem to digress more and more. I didn't do that much as Michael. Wait a minute I'm still Michael. Can someone forget themselves? This Equestrian came over to me and told me to bend over and touch my toes (you do as you are told around here). Then he lifted up my skirt, slipped my panties down and spanked me at least twenty times on my ass. His smacks really stung as if he was an expert spanker. When he was finished he said for me to stay like that until a Roman said I could stand back up. This seems to be the way they do things. So far every time I'm punished the Roman tells me someone other then will end my punishment. I'm so tired now; I'm going to go to bed early. See you next week. (Note: If I made a mistake with the Latin forgive me. I barely passed Latin. Also, Part Four may take some time due to many commitments I have over the next month. Lauren)