Nero 3

By Pueros

Chapter III – Introductions

(Dacia, in June of the 8th year of the reign of the Emperor Trajan [AD 106])

As I continue the narration of my life to a scribe for posterity in my 75th year, I reflect on how lucky I have been to be in a position to do so. I have not only lived to this remarkable age, in a world where most people do not emerge from childhood, and where those that do rarely live beyond their 50th birthday, but also do so in relative comfort. I therefore thank the gods and those friends who have helped me survive the years.

I diverge, however, from my tale. Reader, please forgive this common trait of an old man and let me return you back in time some sixty years……..

(The villa of Caius Silius, Rome, in June of the 5th year of the reign of the Emperor Claudius [AD 46])

‘What slim boy, Pyrrha, drenched in liquid scents, presses you in an abundance of roses under some pleasing grotto? For whom are you binding back your blonde hair in simple elegance?’

- Horace (Odes, 1.5)

The day finally arrived when I was fully healed and it was time for my formal presentation to Caius Silius and his wife and daughters.

I was carefully cleansed and groomed for the event by Apollinus in the communal washing amenity provided for the household slaves. This was, like my tiny doorless cell, located in the large windowless basement of my new master’s huge mansion. However, only the ground floor of the residential complex was spacious and luxurious and possessed Roman baths worthy of the name, smaller but similar to the hundreds of large, splendid, opulent public facilities spread throughout the city.

The amenity in the downstairs cellar was not only cool and gloomy, the sole illumination being wall lamps, but also small, comprising no apodyterium, palaestra, unctuarium, tepidarium or caldarium, only a frigidarium. In other words, we slaves were permitted no special facilities to change, exercise, have our bodies cleansed with oil or bathe in anything other than cold water, for which bars of crude soap, usually spurned by free citizenry, were provided to wash our forms.

The relative diminutive size of the amenity and the large volume of slaves using it, along with their different duty patterns and the need to segregate the genders to avoid unwanted temptations, meant that the frigidarium was used at regular intervals throughout the day and night.

Like most Romans of the time, Cauis did not follow the suggestion of his acquaintance, the 41 year-old philosopher Lucius Annaeus Seneca, son of the rhetorician of the same name and therefore termed ‘The Younger’. This man of puritan morals had been propounding, both verbally and in writing, that, as in the early days of the city, citizens should not wash all over except about once a week.

Seneca the Younger had chastised his fellow patricians in particular, in his typical stoic manner, that, as their ancestors had been content to bath once a ‘nundinae’, they too should follow such prudent ways and avoid extravagant behaviour. However, Cauis disagreed, one of his few sensible decisions, and insisted on thorough daily cleansing for himself and his family and slaves. I later learnt the hard way that he was motivated by a strong dislike for dirt and disagreeable odours.

Given my continued coyness in respect of my naked form, especially in its altered state, with anyone other than Apollinus, I was grateful that my fellow 14 year-old had chosen a quiet time, when no-one else was about, to conduct the ablutions. He did not say so but I was sure that such consideration was not accidental but considerate, as afterwards there remained quite a time before my presentation, during which the frigidarium was invaded by male slaves of the outer household who were about to assume their labours for the day. I was sure that a gelded newcomer like me would have been the butt of much amusement if I had been forced to share the cold bathing amenity with the still genitally whole men and boys.

To this day as a very old man, I have never become accustomed to the reputed delights of the frigidarium, invariably now finishing my bathing with a return to the lukewarm tepidarium after time in the steamy caldarium. However, I have never managed to work out whether this is because of a genuine dislike of the supposed refreshing and stimulating finishing effects of the cold plunge or because of subliminal bad memories from my time in the household of Cauis Silius.

Apollinus began to complete his duties by perfuming my naked body, still shivering slightly from the cold waters of the frigidarium, using scents from a large array of onyx bottles. He applied some blue make-up to my eyelids, red to my lips and cheeks and a scarlet varnish to the trimmed nails of my hands and feet. He then dressed me in the red, yellow bordered, tunic of rich material pertinent to a eunuch of Caius’ inner household. Finally, he placed a small laurel of multi-coloured sweet-smelling flowers in my long golden hair, carefully readied with an ivory comb and gathered at the back by means of a very expensive bobble of gold thread. My main garment had a twin to allow me to be dressed in fresh apparel daily, whilst the discarded item would be laundered in readiness for the next day.

The tunic had been carefully tailored from measurements taken earlier by Apollinus and the attire fitted me too perfectly for my initial liking. In my current mindset, disgusted at the new form of my genitalia, I thought that the days of my past, when I vainly gained pleasurable amusement from disporting my undoubtedly pleasing young covered body teasingly to supposedly secret but nevertheless obvious admirers, were gone. I was therefore not at first happy to discover that my new tight sleeveless apparel, which extended to just below my groin without the benefit of any undergarments, left little to the imagination as to the underneath shape of my admittedly pleasantly proportioned torso. I also worried that my groin might easily be exposed by lively movement or breeze.

“Is this all I’m to wear,” I asked incredulously of Apollinus, as he finally brought me before a lamp-lit wall mirror close to the frigidarium, after satisfying himself as to the perfection of his completed task. “Yes,” my fellow 14 year-old answered, with clear satisfaction displayed on his handsome face at the efficacy of his work, “this will be your uniform from now on, subject to your acceptance into the inner household.” It was then that I saw that my friend’s display of contentment was reinforced by a noticeable bulge at the front of his own similar but less sparse and revealing dark blue tunic.

I was unsure at that moment precisely what sight caused my face then to turn bright scarlet, the vision of Apollinus’ obvious arousal at my looks or that of my own reflection as I looked upwards from my body. However, I was certainly shocked at my new facial features, for the different shades of rouge applied to my eyebrows, lips and cheeks gave my visage an air of effeminacy, something compounded by the nail varnish and crowning flowery laurel in my hair. I was to learn later that the careful discreet delicacy of this decoration was supposed to highlight tastefully my boyish attractions rather than any girlish traits. It was an assertion that I came to believe when I subsequently saw the much gaudier and deliberately effeminate make-up sported by many of the young male catamites who sold themselves in the streets and brothels of Rome.

Apollinus and I then sat on the tidily remade bed, located on what was no more than a stone shelf in my tiny cell, awaiting my summons to Caius and his young spouse and female offspring. Time, for me, seemed to pass inordinately slowly, with nerves pervading my body. My gregarious fellow 14 year-old, obviously appreciating my apprehension, tried to occupy me in trivial conversation, whilst apparently unable to shake off his clearly maintained genital excitement at my appearance. His inability to subdue his arousal was probably partly due to the fact that my already brief tunic rode up my thighs as I took up my sitting position. This caused me to grip the bottom of the garment firmly to prevent my own gelded organs from popping into view. Nevertheless, much else was uncovered.

Whilst we sat, I felt a strange urge to relieve Apollinus’ clear genital needs with my hands or mouth but eventually dismissed the notion in favour of asking some more questions. However, I guiltily knew, as my mind changed the subject of my thoughts, that I was doing so not because of distaste for the action, far from it for I was somehow very tempted, but because of the alarming prospect of discovery and subsequent inevitable punishment. The major domo was due to arrive at any time to check me and lead me to my appointment.

“What do you think would happen,” I asked of Apollinus, in my ever-improving Latin, “if I deliberately tried to make myself appear clumsy and surly, someone hopefully completely unsuitable for the inner household?” “I think that would be very unwise,” my fellow 14 year-old replied, after giving the question some thought, “given the price that Caius has paid for you. Did you know that he invested 120 aurei in your purchase?”

I was not accustomed to coinage, my people preferring barter, and so I asked my patient friend what such a price represented. “Well,” Apollinus answered, “there are five main denominations of coin in Rome. The least valuable is the ‘quadrans’, four of which make an ‘as’. Both are made of copper and four of the latter constitute a brass ‘sestertius’. Four sestertii are equal to a silver ‘denarius’ and twenty-five denarii equate to a gold aureus. In other words, you cost 12,000 sestertii. None of the slaves of the outer household, including myself, was previously bought for more than 4,000 and none in the inner household for over 8,000. To put all this in greater context, a common working man earns about 400 sestertii a year and a legionary about 900. You can buy the favours of a tavern girl or boy for 2 sestertii.” I noticed the clear gleam in my fellow 14 year-old’s eyes as he related the last truism, suggesting that he somehow knew the fact from personal experience.

“I therefore believe,” Apollinus continued, “that our master will want to see an appropriate return from you, something that could not be achieved by using you anywhere other than in the inner household. He’ll want to show you off to guests, as if you were a very rare and expensive piece of fine furniture or work of art.” My fellow 14 year-old then giggled mischievously before adding, whilst his eyes looked me all over in clear fresh appraisal of my newly groomed form, “And, as I see you now, you’re certainly the latter!” I could not help but smile at his kind compliment, which was accompanied by a noticeable twitching of the covered protuberance in his groin and which helped to restore some of my old vanity in respect of my appearance.

I had known that I was once beautiful but feared that my castration would destroy my looks. Some of my former confidence now returned at Apollinus’ clearly honest assertion that this had not been the case. It was a situation additionally helped by the flatteringly obvious deep desire displayed in my friend’s lovely face.

“Why was so much paid for me?” I eventually asked, curiosity having finally overcome the restitution of some self-esteem and whilst trying to hide the pride behind the question. “Caius likes to have some of the most select boy and girl slaves for his inner household in order to impress guests,” Apollonius replied, “but, with all due respect, I don’t think that his agent would have laid out so much for you if certain others had not been in contention for your purchase. I have heard that the man was under instructions to outbid the representatives of particular rivals of the master for the best of the latest boys from Britannia. You see, slaves from your land are very fashionable at the moment, after Claudius’ invasion, especially for people who occasionally entertain the Emperor himself, who likes to see some of the results of his conquest at first hand. I understand that you clearly stood out from the rest on offer at market.”

Despite my reinvigorated vanity over my appearance, my incredulity made me ignore the last flattering remark in favour of the earlier statement. “Do you mean,” I enquired with clear astonishment, “that the Emperor himself will be visiting Caius’ villa soon?” “Yes,” Apollinus responded, “he will be attending a banquet here in the near future, although you’ll find that he’s the only one whom the master will allow to call this residence a ‘domus’ as opposed to ‘villa’. His visit’s a great honour because he rarely dines with others, even in his palace.”

“What do you mean by ‘domus’ and ‘villa’?” I asked. “The correct name for an urban dwelling,” Apollinus answered, continuing his patient replies to my many frequent questions, “is ‘domus’ but Caius prefers to call this place a ‘villa’, which strictly is a countryside residence. I believe his preference stems from a wish to highlight the vast amount of very valuable land it occupies in the centre of Rome’s most desirable patrician quarter. In other words, he’s showing off again!”

Apollinus then returned to my original enquiry. “If you proved completely unsuitable for the inner household,” he advised, “ I very much doubt, given the price paid for you, that Caius would move you to the outer, where all of us were obtained far more cheaply. I also don’t think that he’ll return you to market, where your early resale would indicate some deficiency, decreasing your value significantly and producing a substantial financial loss. I’m sure that instead he’d seek compensation by making you an example to his other slaves, in order to encourage them to meet expected standards of performance, whilst at the same time using you as expendable entertainment for important friends.”

“I haven’t told you before about this,” Apollinus proceeded, “because I didn’t want to worry you about such matters. However, about six years ago, Caius forced another expensive boy, exhibiting similar characteristics to those you describe, to act out the story of Orpheus during a private dinner held in the outer garden and attended by Gaius Caligula. The unsuspecting young slave had to sit holding a lyre in a cage, surrounded by potted trees and bushes and small harmless animals, until a ferocious hungry wild bear was introduced into the enclosure. Naturally, the lad stood no chance and was torn to pieces. I believe the previous Emperor was highly amused and the whole spectacle helped to improve our master’s standing at the Imperial court of the time, a status he later managed to transfer to that of Claudius who, I understand, has similar cruel tastes to his predecessor. The awful demise of the slaveboy was considered a good investment, one that might easily be repeated for similar purposes if thought appropriate. I wouldn’t be surprised if, to flatter the Emperor, he had your body tattooed and attired to match those of the warriors of your land and made you fight some gladiators, dressed as legionaries, at the forthcoming banquet in a symbolic re-enactment of the conquest of Britannia.”

“Thanks for your advice,” I responded despondently to Apollinus, after mulling over what he had said, “even though it’s obvious from it that my original idea to avoid service in the inner household is a non-starter. However, I’d be most grateful if you could help me come up with an alternative proposal.” I then did something that I thought that I had never done before, although I later realised that my earlier teasing of admirers in Britannia was little different, for I acted like a tart, such was my desperation. I smiled seductively at, and gently stroked the upper leg of, my fellow 14 year-old. His lovely thighs were exposed beneath his dark blue tunic, which, though longer than my own red apparel, was also similarly devoid of undergarments. My friend did not attempt resistance but instead lay back against the rear wall, looking at my face, eyes glazing over and seemingly transfixed in apparent relish of the touch, whilst his arousal became even more obvious.

I continued my delicate manual manipulation of his lithe limb, moving my fingers increasingly upwards and under the hem of his tunic towards his crotch. Apollinus’ own face reddened as my hand moved inexorably towards his smooth genitalia, eventually giving his lower scrotum a little brush with the manicured and varnished nail of my right forefinger. This was all it took to take him over the top. His face turned a deeper shade of red, his hands gripped the sides of his garment and he uttered a low ecstatic groan as unmistakable vibrating climax overwhelmed his body. It was an orgasmic event symbolised further by the stain that appeared around the protuberance on his tunic, noticeable despite the apparel’s dark blue colour.

I withdrew my hand to allow Apollinus to recover, feeling rather guilty at acting like a common whore, and sat waiting for his reaction. My fellow 14 year-old eventually returned from his ecstatic high and regained his composure, refocusing his eyes on me and developing a broad smile.

Apollinus then reciprocated the surprise that I had given him by leaning towards me to give me a lingering kiss whilst moving his own hand under my tunic, brushing aside the hold that I had maintained to retain the apparel in place to hide my groin. My gelded genitalia were soon being fondled by my fellow 14 year old whilst our lips remained entwined. This time it was I who failed to resist such encroachment, finding that my friend’s intrusion induced wonderful pleasant tingling feelings throughout my body, despite my shame at the fact that what he was manually exploring was no longer whole.

I think that, despite having already orgasmed, Apollinus was eager for more sex and would have continued our fore and after play for hours if he could, but thoughts about the dangers of the imminently due arrival of the major domo luckily invaded my mind. I therefore reluctantly pushed my fellow 14 year-old gently away and brought him back to the reality of our position, quickly managing at the same time to wipe some rouge off his lips, which had transferred from mine. In return, my friend, sexual ambition sadly thwarted for now, tidied up the disturbed make-up round my own mouth whilst stipulating that he could think of no immediate answer to my last question, which I had momentarily forgotten asking. However, he added that he would try to come up with a suggestion given time.

As Apollinus proceeded in returning my facial makeup to its previous perfection, the happy smirking appearance displayed on his pretty face clearly indicated that he was looking forward to enjoying further, perhaps even more adventurous, sexual activity sometime soon. It was a prospect that I not only believed that I could not deny him, for all that he had done for me, but also began to anticipate eagerly myself, particularly as some of my old vanity had returned. This was fuelled, as he completed his latest chore, by the clear look of appreciation on his face, which I believed, perceptively as it turned out, did not emanate from recent pleasure but from admiration for my beauty.

Apollinus completed his remedial task just in time because the major domo then entered my tiny quarters.

(The temple of Cybele, Rome, same time)

‘Learn, girls, what care can improve your face

And how you can preserve your beauty.

Cultivation commands the sterile earth to render the gifts

Of wheat and to bury devouring briars.

Cultivation improves the bitter juice of fruits.

The cleft tree accepts adopted riches.

We like what is cultivated. Lofty halls are lined with gold,

Black earth is hidden under layers of marble.

The same fleece is often dyed in Tyrian cauldrons.

India offers ivory to be carved into delightful things.’

- Ovid (Medicamina Faciei Femineae [Women's Facial Cosmetics])

At about the same time that the major domo was checking my appearance to ensure that I was ready to meet Caius and his wife and daughters, I understand, from later conversation, that Axenius was also engaged on matters of personal appearance. He had been previously introduced to and trained for these particular chores by an expert elder slave but this was the first time that he was to perform the duties without supervision.

The particularly handsome 16 year-old eunuch, of Germanian stock, had gladly shed his feminine clothing to perform his labours, even if it was in favour of a sparse loincloth. His new current task, which was to become a regular daily routine, was to assist, after the usual light breakfast, with the middle-aged Altigallus’ morning ablutions in the large ornate baths, with under-floor central heating, located in the resplendent accommodation provided for the priesthood of Cybele.

Most Roman males washed in the afternoon, leaving the women free to use the bathhouses in the morning. The gallae, considering themselves feminine, had adopted the latter timetable.

The luxurious temple amenities were of the usual basic format but especially geared to the needs of important femininity. The walls were covered by mirrors, the ceilings by glistening multi-coloured glass and the floors by complicated mosaics, whilst the various pools were lined with rich marble. Castrated male attendants, mainly young and pretty and attired in loincloths identical to that worn by the young Germanian, were present at each stage of the bathing process to assist the gallae, although the most senior members of the priesthood had, like the Altigallus, their own personal gelded attendants.

Axenius and the naked Altigallus had already been in the unctuarium, where the former had rubbed scented olive oil onto the delicate pale skin of the latter before scraping it off again with a strigil, a curved metal tool. Most free Romans liked to adopt this process in preference to using soap. The young temple slave was now sitting alongside his master/mistress in the tepidarium, or warm room, where about twenty other gallae were also present, all completely nude and some also accompanied by their personal attendants. It was common for the members of the priesthood present to indulge in idle chat until they decided that it was time to proceed to the caldarium, where discourse could be continued.

Axenius had never been in the presence of so many naked eunuchs and, despite being one of their kind, he was unable to move his eyes away from their genitalia, curiosity compelling him to make comparisons between the various amended organs. For their part, the gallae were rarely able to avert their gaze from the very young handsome newcomer in their midst. It was a phenomenon that had not gone unnoticed by the Archigallus, who therefore observed to the others, in his usual feminine tone, “I see that you like my new attendant!”

Axenius blushed at both the remark and becoming the subject of conversation but his embarrassment was only to become worse. “Stand, boy,” his master/mistress commanded, “and walk slowly up and down so that my friends can view fully our kind donation from Caius Silius.” The young temple slave was obliged to comply, acutely aware that his sparse loincloth barely concealed anything from view, particularly when he moved, although his own genitalia would remain safely hidden beneath a minuscule thong-like undercloth. The 16 year-old was grateful for any cover, given that, despite everything he had suffered in recent years, his inbred Germanic modesty detested public nudity.

As Axenius slowly walked up and down the rectangular tepidarium, between two rows of reclining effeminate nude eunuchs, bodies glistening with sweat, he felt many pairs of eyes visually weighing his whole form. His discomfort at the situation was maintained despite hearing a number of clearly appreciative comments. “Hmmm, gorgeous,” was amongst the least favourable and crude. However, for the young newcomer, the whole humiliating experience served one purpose. It reinforced his realisation that, despite the castrated nature of all gallae, apart from the few recent unwanted transvestite recruits, the temple was somehow a hotbed of closeted sexual activity.

In the middle of his parade, Axenius heard an order that he hoped would not be issued. “Dearest,” the Archigallus instructed, “remove your loincloth so that my friends can inspect the work on you.”

Axenius’ face became a deeper shade of red as he shamefully obeyed, fully aware what the Archigallus meant by ‘work’. However, his acute abashment at having to provide each of the gallae with a close-up view of his own castrated genitalia was fortuitously cut short when one of the transvestite newcomers entered the tepidarium. He was a young man in his early twenties but the fact that his nude body still sported whole sexual organs, albeit shaved of hair, seemed to disgust his new colleagues despite an otherwise very pleasing appearance.

The Altigallus stood up and snootily commanded Axenius to redress in his loincloth to accompany him to the calidarium. They were quickly followed by the other gallae, leaving the latest addition to the priesthood on his own in the tepidarium.

Axenius, the Altigallus and the others were soon in the hot and steamy atmosphere of the calidarium, where the gallae sat and perspired, occasionally scraping their skin with strigils, whilst other attendants served snacks and drinks. Finally, the young temple slave’s master/mistress enjoyed a long dip in the hot bath of the calidarium before proceeding for a quick plunge in the frigidarium.

After swimming, the Altigallus lay on a wooden table to enable Axenius gently to massage him and rub oils and perfume into his skin. The young temple slave then spent much time carefully combing and setting the long hair of his master/mistress before cautiously applying his facial and nail makeup.

Feeling resplendently clean, groomed and relaxed, the Archigallus then allowed Axenius to adorn his body with his robes and jewellery before checking his final appearance in a mirror. Happy with what he saw, he tapped his new attendant lightly on the head before commenting “You have done well. I can see that we’ll get on fine together.” However, he then induced some mystery and concern into the relationship with the new temple slave by advising him “It’s about time that I made our association even more intimate by introducing you to some of our bedtime pleasures. Tonight, you will sleep with me and I promise you unprecedented delights!”

The Archigallus then departed, drifting through the nearby beautiful gardens, decorated with mosaics and colossal sculptures, to commence his duties for the day, leaving a perplexed and apprehensive Axenius with the instruction to catch up with him as soon as the 16 year-old too had bathed and dressed. The young temple slave was not unused, after his years in the service of Cauis Silius, to participating, albeit forcibly, in what might be termed unnatural sexual activities. However, he was naively at a loss as to how eunuchs could engender pleasure from such practices on their own.

(The Imperial palace, Rome, same time)

‘Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,

Now green in youth, now withering on the ground.

Another race the following spring supplies;

They fall successive, and successive rise.’

- Homer (The Iliad, book vi, line 181 et al)

After the Emperor and Empress, a freedman by the name of Narcissus was the most powerful person in Rome. He was Claudius’ secretary, across whose desk all official correspondence passed, so making him responsible for oversight of much of the Imperial bureaucracy. He, like other freedmen, such as Callistus, Pallas and Polybius, respectively responsible for judicial, financial and research matters, had corruptly used his immensely powerful position to acquire great wealth, reputedly amounting to 400 million sestertii. However, this acquisition of riches was not merely due to greed, as possession of such resources was the only security these effectual ministers had beyond their influence on the Princeps.

Claudius had begun to institutionalise what had been happening for some time. The Emperors were assuming more and more responsibility for affairs of state, reducing the role of the Senate and elected officials. Much of this work was then delegated to members of the Princeps’ own households, gradually creating a centralised bureaucracy with specialised departments, the embryonic Imperial civil service.

The departmental leaders were often freedmen, more likely to be from Greece than Italia. They usually possessed no particular reverence for Roman tradition and invariably owed their place, and therefore their loyalty, to the Emperor. They were indeed the creatures of the Princeps, a title literally meaning ‘first citizen’, who had made them and could as easily destroy them. This encouraged them to try to control access to their Imperial master, risking his isolation from the aristocracy and people.

Claudius was particularly susceptible to manipulation by his officials but they were sometimes out-manoeuvred by his third wife, Messalina, whose influence over her husband when in his company was overwhelming. She too dabbled in state affairs but lazily only for purposes of personal enrichment. However, neither the Empress nor Narcissus and his fellow officials saw fit to try to exert complete dominance. An uneasy state of mutually beneficial co-existence between the parties had therefore resulted, with the latter turning blind eyes towards the rampant nymphomania of the former.

Messalina, now in full possession of power and luxury, with an unattractive husband thirty years older, came to live only for pleasure, particularly of a sexual kind. Like others in similar positions, her tastes coarsened and became ever more demanding. Others, besides her husband, suffered as a result of her all-consuming lusts for, as well as being a despicable spouse, she was an awful mother. The product of her marriage to Claudius, 7 year-old Octavia and 5 year-old Britannicus, hardly knew their female parent.

Narcissus, concerned as to who would succeed the elderly Claudius, particularly as his own survival undoubtedly depended on a supportive heir, had decided that Britannicus was the only realistic choice, despite his tender years. His hope was that the current Princeps would survive sufficiently long to enable his son to be old enough to assume the purple. For those that do not know, I should perhaps explain here that purple is the traditional colour for an Emperor’s attire, as it is reproduced only from the most expensive dyes. Although Senators’ togas have purple borders and the toga praetexta of young boys have hems of the same hue, it is now treason for anyone other than the Emperor to dress completely in purple.

Narcissus was accordingly as much concerned for the welfare of Britannicus as for his father. He was currently worried about the boy’s isolation and lack of friends and suggested to Claudius and the disinterested Messalina that he brought some similarly aged youngsters into court circles to be the prince’s playmates. An affirmative response was received from both parents and so a carefully chosen coterie of 4 and 5 year-old males were introduced to the Emperor’s son.

The pretty Britannicus, thankfully very unlike his father in both looks and mannerisms, took an instant reciprocated liking to one of his new companions, who was about ten months younger. Titus Flavius Vespasianus had been born in a Roman slum tenement, in December of the year of Claudius’ succession, to a junior army officer of the same name and Flavia Domitilla. However, the fortunes of his stolid rural paternal and maternal families had been rising for some time, with centurions becoming tax collectors then bankers. His own father’s career took off not long after his birth, thanks to the influence of a currently more successful elder brother, Titus Flavius Sabinus, and the friendship and patronage of Narcissus.

Titus Flavius Vespasianus senior had already been both a Quaestor and an Aedile during the reign of Gaius Caligula, although in the latter post he had attracted Imperial displeasure from the continued poor condition of the streets of Rome, and, through Narcissus, was to secure command of a legion. The man subsequently served successfully in both Germania and Britannia, taking part in over thirty battles and subduing the Isle of Wight. It was his soldiers who were responsible for the capture of both Axenius and me.

Titus Flavius Vespasianus senior was rewarded for his victories with triumphal decorations and a substitute consulship, partly because the size of the Isle of Wight was grossly exaggerated back in Rome. Acquisition of a consular post, albeit a substitute one, was a great honour for his previously humble lineage, as any plebeian so appointed was immediately ennobled. He nevertheless retained a strong rural accent throughout his life, which many other patricians considered uncouth.

Rome has retained many of its republican traditions, although largely superficially as most power now really rests in Imperial hands. The Senate still comprises about 300 lifelong members, drawn from the aristocracy. Qualifications for entry include magisterial and military service and provable wealth.

The senate is supposed to issue new laws and control the magistrates, who are nominally responsible for the day-to-day running of Rome. The latter are elected by the Assembly of the People, where every citizen has a vote, although in practice these are usually placed in accordance with the largest bribe rather than moral conscience.

The most powerful magistrates are supposed to be the Consuls, backed up by their deputies, the Praetors, otherwise responsible mainly for judicial affairs. Quaestors and Aediles deal respectively with city financial and administrative matters, and Censors with the register and conduct of citizens.

Tribunes are elected by the people to represent the interests of the plebeians, although the officers normally emanate from the elite. They have the right to veto Senate rulings, thereby giving the lower orders some protection from the avariciousness of the patricians and equestrians, the latter being the wealthy non-Senatorial business class.

Messalina was often being entertained at this time by another paramour. The latest regular recruit to her bed was the actor and dancer Mnester, once one of Gaius Caligula’s lovers. However, as this man hardly threatened the security of the state, Narcissus was content to let the frequent liaisons be.

One of the attractions of Mnester for Messalina, as it had been for Gaius Caligula, was that he spiced up their lovemaking by acting out mythological scenarios. Currently, the Empress was supposed to be one of the Sabine Women, about to be raped. Her hands and feet were tied, although lightly and not uncomfortably to bedposts, whilst her naked erect paramour approached with a knife.

“No, no,” the 23 year-old Messalina exclaimed between titters but her resistance, as her expensive stola was shredded with the knife to reveal her own very attractive nude form, was very weak. It lessened even further when Mnester introduced his rampant cockhead to her eagerly waiting vagina.

Meanwhile, I believe that Narcissus often looked in on the antics of Britannicus and his new companions in the prince’s palatial quarters. He invariably saw the young son and likely heir of Claudius in the innocent intimate company of the young son and likely heir of the much humbler Titus Flavius Vespasianus. I understand that the freedman also invariably smiled at the thought that one of the two happy boys, engrossed in play, should one day become Emperor.

(The villa of Caius Silius, Rome, same time)

‘Surely a lioness from the African mountains

Or barking Scylla didn’t beget you from the lowest part of her loins,

You of such pitiless vile spirit that you hold in contempt

The voice of a supplicant in his last and final despair;

Ah, you, of too cruel heart?’

- Catullus (carmina LX)

Caius’ boastful naming of his Roman residence as a ‘villa’ as opposed to ‘domus’ had some merit. An urban domus normally faces inward, with light and air coming through openings in the roof above the central atrium and the garden peristylum. To ensure maximum privacy, no windows face outwards. The front rooms are also often rented out as shops or other commercial enterprises.

Caius’ substantial urban residence, however, was built in true rural villa style amidst the privacy and security of huge resplendent walled gardens containing many trees, with the family’s accommodation contrasting starkly with that of their slaves. It possessed many magnificent colonnades and its internal painted plaster walls and mosaic floors splendidly portrayed various scenes of history and legend, as well as landscapes and ordinary daily life. However, much of the ground artistry was hidden by furs, of bear, deer, leopard, lion and wolf, or brightly decorated rugs imported from the east.

Statues of bronze and marble on elegant tripods were evident everywhere, as were expensive objets d’art, including much gold and silver plate, blown glass and items made from semi-precious stones, such as bowls carved from sardonyx. Night illumination was by way of ornate stands with several bronze lamps, burning olive oil, hanging from the central columns.

The furniture was very elaborate and that for seating, usually of wood inlaid with ivory, tortoise shell and some precious metals, was covered with gaily coloured cushions. Tables were of marble, bronze and fine grained wood, with legs often carved in the shape of animal paws and topped by the head of a lion or panther. However, one room was decorated in Aegyptian style and therefore the tables there were supported by sphinxes and other creatures from that province’s theology.

My new master’s wealth also enabled him to draw private supplies of water from local aqueducts, to provide for not only the normal needs of a large household but also the requirements of the many ornamental pools and fountains throughout the domestic complex. There was also an efficient hyocaust, an under-floor central heating system that, in cold weather, fed hot air from a basement boiler, which eventually escaped via wall flues. Additionally, there were comfortable flushing toilets.

Caius’ riches also furnished his urban residence with that rarity, external and internal windows fitted with glass. This, along with the many atriums and garden courtyards, provided the building with a much lighter, less claustrophobic, atmosphere compared to normal urban abodes. This went a long way, when associated with the overall size, setting and magnificent decorations and furnishings, towards justifying the term ‘villa’.

The customary household deities were worshipped. The front gate and door were protected by Janus, with the god’s facial carving as usual portraying him looking forwards and backwards. The doorway was considered so important that Janus was assisted by three others. Cardea, Limentinus and Forculus, deities of hinges, thresholds and the door leaves themselves respectively.

Vesta, goddess of the fire and hearth, was honoured daily, especially by the females. They would throw portions of every meal into the household fire as an offering in recognition of the role the deity had played in the cooking of the food.

The particular gods of each individual house are the lares and penates. The former are the spirits of dead ancestors, possessing a cupboard of their own which they inhabit as tiny statuettes. Daily prayers and offerings are made to them, which are more elaborate on the sacred days of each month, the calends, ides and nodes, and during particularly notable occasions, such as birth, wedding, anniversary, departure and return celebrations.

The penates looks after the larder, its contents and replenishment. They also possess their own cupboard but their statuettes are taken out to be placed on tables at mealtimes. When families move, their lares and penates accompany them.

There are also other household deities, given due worship at appropriate times. One is the genius, or spirit of manhood, which provides the power of generation and is therefore especially important for the marital bed. It is particularly honoured on the birthday of the head of a family. However, for obvious reasons, I have personally and sadly afforded little attention to this particular divinity.

I was led, my body quaking in shame at what was to come, by the major domo to the massive main tablinum, or living room, where Caius and his wife and daughters awaited me amidst ostentatious splendour. The master was lying on a couch whilst his heavily pregnant but still attractive 15 year-old wife sat on a chair on one side of him and his equally pretty 13 and 11 year-old daughters were similarly seated on the other side. It was the first time that I had seen the patrician females of the household and I immediately knew that they were not pleasant people from the smirking arrogant expressions on their faces.

Apollinus had given my hand a secret squeeze of attempted reassurance just before I stood up from the bed in my tiny quarters to be inspected by and then depart with the major domo. However, the sight of the three girls, as they clearly and sniggeringly appraised my form, quickly eradicated any fortitude that that pleasant friendly gesture had instilled within me. My abashed trepidation was not helped by my new master’s opening words of introduction.

“Crispina, my wife, Sribonia and Tullia, my daughters,” Caius announced, “this is the latest addition to our service, but only if you so wish. I don’t know his name and don’t care, so you can choose one later for him if you want him to remain in the inner household. He has, of course, been castrated, to eradicate any filthy lusts he might have otherwise developed.” The master then turned towards me and commanded “Now, boy, turn round slowly so that we can all gain a good view of you from all angles.”

I complied, face blushing and acutely aware of the four pairs of eyes surveying me, whilst also believing that I knew what order was to come next. My belief was proved correct when, after my slow circular turn, Caius instructed “Now, boy, remove your tunic so that we can see what it’s hiding.” Unfortunately for my immediate welfare, this time I hesitated to obey.

I grasped hold of the sides of my tunic but shame prevented me from lifting the garment upwards and off. “He’s not obeying, father,” I heard the younger daughter, Tullia, unnecessarily advise with clear glee in her voice, “so will you punish him?” However, her paternal parent did not answer her directly at first but instead sat up, apparently not angered or surprised at my inaction. I surmised later that my initial hesitancy to strip naked in front of the family had been experienced by others previously.

The major domo had retreated to a distant corner of the large ornately appointed room to watch proceedings quietly. He knew better than to interfere without instructions to do so. However, he was now ordered by Caius to “Fetch my crop!” As the man disappeared momentarily to do so, the master turned his attention back to me.

“You’ve already earned yourself a beating, boy,” Caius declared calmly, “and you’ll make it worse if you don’t obey me now.” He then proceeded by breaking the superficial tranquillity. “Strip, boy!” he shouted loudly, causing me and the females present to jump in surprise. However, only my own body continued to shake as I now meekly complied, to accompanying giggles from the three girls and whilst my face turned as red as my tunic, which was soon on the floor with only my hands hiding my shame, although not for long.

“Put your hands on your head and again turn round slowly so that we can all gain a good view of you from all angles,” Caius now commanded, voice returned to normalcy. This time, my obedience was encouraged by the return of the major domo with a nasty looking stained leather crop in his possession, seemingly well used, judging from its worn appearance. However, I was soon to discover that the implement was as effective as ever in providing chastisement and that the ingrained blotches were bloody reminders of previous recipients of such justice.

The feminine giggling proceeded unchecked as I turned, appreciating that the four sets of eyes viewing me would now be concentrating, for much of their visual tour of my naked frame, on the proficiency of my gelding. As my slow revolution proceeded, I could not help looking downwards at my sexual organs to try to perceive what Caius and the girls would be scrutinising. The bright sunlight in the room afforded me the opportunity to examine my amended genitalia in a clearer way than in the gloomy confines of my tiny sleeping quarters. I have to confess that I was not displeased at what I observed.

My flaccid penis remained a nice size for someone of my proportions and my fully healed scrotum, devoid of testicles, was not an unpleasant appendage. I suddenly realised for the first time since my castration that my genitalia remained a comely adornment to my body and had not become an ugly disfigurement. This did not assuage my shame and sadness at losing true masculinity but did help to stimulate further my reawakening vanity relating to my beauty, despite the humiliating circumstances of my discovery.

When I eventually returned to my starting position, Caius asked his young wife and daughters “Well, what do you think?” It was the smirking Crispina who answered first, ensuring that she reinforced her place in the female familial pecking order. “Physically, I think he’ll do,” she announced confidently, “as his face and body aren’t too displeasing for a boy. Of course, we’ll have to see how he measures up to the tasks given him and I think that you should give him a good flogging now to instil in him the importance of instant obedience to commands and other proficiency.” Her views were rapidly supported by Sribonia and Tullia.

“I agree,” Caius responded, “apart from the suggestion that I should flog him now.” The smirks on the faces of all three girls immediately disappeared in disappointment. “But why call for the cane?” the elder daughter screeched. “Because,” her father patiently answered, “I believe that you, Sribonia, dear, are now old enough to discipline your own slaves, subject to my approval each time, and this one will of course primarily serve you and Tullia.”

Sribonia uttered a delighted squeal before thanking her father profusely. “But what about me?” her younger sibling enquired, in a disappointed tone and with a morose facial expression. “You’re not old enough,” Caius teased before relenting to advise “but I’m sure that your sister will let you help.” The man then received more copious verbal gratitude, this time from his 11 year-old offspring.

“Sribonia,” Caius now instructed, “award your new slave’s neck with his identity tag and his bottom with, I suggest, four strokes of the crop. I think that, for a first offence, we’ll permit him some leniency, particularly as I don’t want him disfigured when we shortly host the Emperor.” “But father,” the sadistic 13 year-old protested, “that’s not a good flogging.”

“Your first lesson in discipline, Sribonia dear,” Caius retorted, “is to make the punishment fit the crime. Four strokes are enough for a novice slave for displaying bodily shyness. If you regularly inflict more without real cause, he’ll become accustomed and almost immune to such chastisement. He will therefore fear it less, demeaning its motivational and deterrent value. For this reason, flogging should be used pertinently but sparsely. In fact, I suggest a little flagellation now only to give the boy a taste of the crop in case he’s not been beaten before and so that he knows what it feels like for the future. Often other types of penance are more pertinent to underline particular disciplinary points. I’m sure, for example, that your imagination can device an appropriate additional penalty that will encourage your new slave to be less coy about stripping instantly on command in future.”

The final suggestion clearly made Sribonia happy and her cruel mind start to think about another punishment she could inflict on me to overcome my bashfulness about personal nudity. This was evident from the return of her smirk as she stood up from the chair to advance towards my frightened and shamed form, still displayed with hands on head. Meanwhile, Tullia again enquired “And what about me?” “I’m sure that your sister will allow you to inflict one of the four blows across your new slave’s bottom,” was the paternal reply.

Sribonia’s arrival directly in front of me coincided with the major domo’s at my side, crop in one hand and bronze tag, indicating my household slave number and my master’s name and address, with associated neck chain, in the other. Such an identity ornament is commonly used for slaves throughout the Empire.

“Hands at your sides, eunuch slaveboy,” Sribonia commanded whilst accepting the tag from the major domo and before placing it around my neck, where it was to remain until I passed into different ownership. The penalty for removal, even very temporarily, would be most unpleasant.

The sneering Sribonia then accepted the crop from the major domo and ordered “Turn round, eunuch slaveboy, move your legs apart and bend over, grasping your ankles with your hands. Make sure that your stance is firm because falling over whilst I beat you will not be good for your health!” The concise instructions seemed to indicate that the elder sister at least had observed someone being thrashed in this way previously. The last comment was also made with obvious mirth and whilst Tullia ran forward to join her sibling and participate in the fun.

I believe that Caius had suspected from my unblemished body that I had never been beaten before and so an early taste of such chastisement might be beneficial, from his point of view, for his new purchase. He was right in both assumptions.

I came from a loving family who considered non-violent methods of disciplining a child appropriate, although this view was probably as a result more of maternal than paternal influence. I am now sure that my father would often have liked to take a rod to me and, looking back, I can understand why. I was a naturally mischievous boy, a trait not helped by my cheeky vanity. However, the strong predominant character and views of my mother probably saved me more times than I ever appreciated from suffering a sore posterior. Alas, she was now no longer around to rescue me.

As I reluctantly complied with Sribonia’s command, I heard the further return of the sisters’ giggles and, once I had assumed the requisite degrading position, I soon felt the hard leather crop being gently and teasingly rubbed up and down my bare buttocks. The chuckling intensified as my tremulous body began to quake visibly and uncontrollably, with my new tag and chain swaying below my neck. I later comforted myself with the thought that my noticeable apparent cowardice stemmed from fear of the unknown, never having suffered shame and pain in this way previously.

My fear intensified when the leather was withdrawn from my bare skin and I heard Tullia issue a low gasp of excitement, presumably in eager anticipation as her sister brought the crop to the required starting position high above her head. I clenched my bumcheeks in expectation of the first strike but it did not arrive straight away. Instead, I heard Sribonia order “Now, eunuch slaveboy, don’t forget to thank me for each blow to your pert bottom or I’ll add to your punishment for your impoliteness and lack of gratitude!” This instruction only added to my conviction that the 13 year-old was following a routine she had witnessed earlier. It was accompanied by chortles from the sibling duo, which were louder than ever. However, my mind was now too focused on other matters to take much regard, as I knew that the crop would land on my exposed flesh imminently.

I was not mistaken. However, never in my wildest imaginings did I believe that the anguish from such a blow could be so acute, especially when delivered by the hand of a 13 year-old girl. My whole body reverberated as intense agony overwhelmed me, although my initial scream was momentarily delayed because all air seemed to have been expelled from my lungs. The shriek eventually materialised as I fell to the floor, being completely unable in the distressing circumstances to keep to my feet.

I was soon a sorrowful and tearful heap on the cool floor mosaic, incongruously depicting some mythological lovers. “Tut, tut,” I heard Sribonia announce, “you have disobeyed orders again. As a result, I think that my father will allow me to exclude that blow from the four due, especially as you’ve not thanked me for it. Now stand up, resume your position and don’t be such a cowardly weakling again. I thought people from Britannia were supposed to have great courage and fortitude. You display neither, you snivelling excuse for a boy!”

I have to confess that it was probably Sribonia’s shaming words that encouraged me now to comply fully with her latest commands. I not only quickly regained my earlier demeaning position, whilst feeling, although obviously not seeing, the vivid dark stripe rapidly developing across my formerly creamy buttocks, but also suffered as required the further four blows. I managed to remain in position despite, I am sure, the best efforts of both sisters to displace me and I somehow issued, albeit in a croaky timorous voice, false gratitude for the infliction of my pain.

My achievement was all the more remarkable because Sribonia’s remaining three strikes became ever more proficiently vicious and anguishing and the final blow, delivered by 11 year-old Tullia, was notable for being not much less agonising than her sister’s best. However, Apollinus subsequently told me, as he later began, in my tiny basement quarters, to try to repair the damage to my striped posterior, that this phenomenon was probably because her hit literally cut across the previous four, causing some blood to spurt.

After the five blows had been inflicted, I felt the small hands of both Sribonia and Tullia feel the results of their work, with the latter commenting “His bum’s warm, especially where we’ve hit it.” Her sister replied, but with clear disappointment in her voice, presumably at the earlier than hoped curtailment of my punishment, “Hmm, so it is, although I still think that we should have made it hotter still. Oh well, let’s go and think of another penance, as father has suggested, to make him strip quickly whenever ordered. We also need to pick a suitable name for him.” However, before returning to her seat, she managed one hard and unexpected manual slap across my sore and still vulnerable bottom, purportedly to help convey a message. “You can stand up and redress now, eunuch slaveboy,” she advised, “and return to your grim little world downstairs. We’ll see you again when you’ve been fully trained for your new duties!”

I was never so happy to leave a room in my life before. However, even my departure caused feminine amusement and tittering, resulting from the fact that my agonised posterior compelled me to hobble towards the exit.

(The villa of Caius Silius, Rome, two weeks later)

I learnt my new duties from other members of the inner household rapidly and efficiently, spurred on by the worry that the supervising major domo might not be as sparing with the crop as his master. It was therefore only two weeks later that I was re-presented, dressed and made up as before, to Sribonia and Tullia in the main tablinum. Again the sisters were not alone but this time their company comprised not their father and stepmother but three even younger boys, all lounging round the vast resplendently furnished room. Being a 14 year-old, I was the oldest present.

As trained, I bowed my head in reverence to my two new young mistresses. “This is ‘No-balls’,” Sribonia announced to her interested younger male guests, apparently having chosen my new name. She then tuned to me and said “Let me introduce you to our guests.”

I had to bow to each of the three boys, aged about 8, 7 and 11 respectively and all, like the girls, sporting big grins, whilst their names were announced as Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, Marcus Annaeus Lucanus and Silius Italicus. All were to become very well known in Rome.

“We’re bored,” 13 year-old Sribonia continued, “so we want you for a game.”

“Strip!” 11 year-old Tullia then commanded with brutal authority.

(To be continued in chapter 4 – ‘Pastimes’)