Part 1. The Oppressive Life of a Roman Slave Boy - Dignity Stripped

My first failure came swiftly: asleep when I should have been alert, I was humiliated beyond words as he urinated on me, standing naked as a god of cruelty over a ragged boy.

I must have been very tired as I should have woken at sun rise to prepare for sir, however I was rudely awoken by a wet feeling coming from above my head. I looked up while avoiding the stream and to my surprise, Sir was standing above me completely naked and pissing on me. When he finished, he hit me a multiple times with a short stick he had by his bed. He shouted at me to get up, and get water for washing. I got up and immediately ran to get the bowels and jugs.

I fled to wash my face, shaken and humiliated. When I returned, he was still standing there, unclothed and furious. He called for someone, and a young woman entered. He addressed her as Girl Slave. She greeted him calmly, without the slightest discomfort at his naked state, and waited for instructions. He ordered her to show me what was expected.

She guided me to the washing table, filled a bowl with water, and carried it over to where he had reclined on the bed. With steady, practiced movements, she dipped a cloth into the water and began to cleanse him. She worked in silence, starting with his face and neck, moving with a detached efficiency as though this were an ordinary routine.

Then after, she cleaned his chest and stomach. She got to his penis and cleaned the pubic hair above and his testicles. I looked at her and she did not even blush. She just continued her job without any comment or even looking at him or me. She cleaned between his legs and pushed her finger and the cloth between his buttocks. She washed the cloth again and then proceeded to retract his foreskin before carefully cleaning the tip.

Sir had a very large penis, maybe three times the length of mine, with a long overhanging foreskin. He also had lots of hair over his body.

Slave Girl washed his legs, arms and feet, she then dried all and went to get his clothes. She carefully wrapped on his underwear and then helped him into the remaining clothes.

I watched, unsettled, as she carried out the task without hesitation or emotion. She neither looked at him with curiosity nor at me with embarrassment. When she was finished, she dried him carefully and then assisted him into his clothing. Without a word, he left the room.

Afterward, she gestured to a bowl kept near the bed and explained that it was used for his needs during the night. Because I had failed to assist him as required, she said, that was why he had chosen to humiliate me and piss on me.

The sting of the short stick hammered a brutal lesson into me: disobedience would cost me my flesh and my honor.

Forced to clean his body with a calmness that belied the horror, I endured the silent gaze of a woman who knew but said nothing, her calm expression a cruel mockery of my shame. She washed parts of him I could only glimpse through my misery - his nakedness, his harsh control, a filthy infiltration of my innocence.