Date: Mon, 18 Sep 2006 18:37:51 -0700 (PDT)
From: lauren westley <fundipity@yahoo.com>
Subject: Suddenly Part 3 Life in Rome by Lauren Wesley TG

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. )
	 I realize some real flaws in this the third part. I only wish I
had thought about them before publishing. So, 'Suddenly' goes on the shelf
and I'm starting something else.  fundipity@yahoo.com

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 the 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 then
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, powders,
lipliners, lipsticks, 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 "Tyranus 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 curtsey. 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 then 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.
	 TYRANUS 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
Feminum. Those of this sect wore red rings. Next were the Equestrians and
their Effeminatus. 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 then 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). Well
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 bottom seemed to
answer.
	So I bumped the Equestrian and said, "Excuse me." That was not a
good idea. These 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 with my heels clattering, the silky
stockings climbing up my legs until the naked skin of my exposed thighs and
then the stockings continued by the small bands of the garters which ran up
to my waist and wrapped my waist with the black garter belt. 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 Feminum 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.
	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. Did I tell you that?), approached. I shook in fear. I
had been spanked several times already over the past two weeks. And more
often since I had arrived in Rome but I had not been spanked in a public
forum. (Oh my, isn't that (forum) Roman too?) As he neared I felt his eyes
burning through my mascara eyes. He was flush from drinking and had a small
grin of 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 ha 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 there
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 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 then 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 "Effeminatus." The map showed several other doors
and the room they opened to.
	For example, I had access to the Great Room but as the map showed;
even though there was no door I would be harshly punished should I have
entered the foyer where I came in. No room I could enter had another door I
could leave by even though all the rooms had more than one doorway.
	Continuing with my first morning the classroom was a small room
further down the hall. It was the second door on my right. The first door
was the Slaves and Plebeians dining room. However, I was not allowed to use
the dining room until lunch time of my first day. Not until attending my
first class as the video had explained last night.
	So, some time early in the morning a little bell sounded in my
room. 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
leave my room immediately and go to my classroom. Since my little window
showed light was just beginning I guessed it was around 6am. I went into my
bathroom, filled the bathtub with warm water and a wonderful orange scented
bubble bath. I remember how nice lying in the tub was my first morning. The
warmth of the water and the orange aroma relaxed me and I didn't mind
shaving my legs, underarms, face etc. But, I did think about someway to
stop all this hair of mine from growing would certainly 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. Breakfast had been served through the slot
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 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 the 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 of whatever I am
now. 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 realized later one day after learning how to tell the
difference, one was a slave about 25 years old. The other one of them was a
plebeian. She was five or ten years younger then me. It made me wonder
again why they would choose someone who was 38 years old. Wouldn't these
Romans want young nubile slaves? I found the answer to that at my first
class.
	But, I digress, I entered the classroom. It was small with no
chairs or desk 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
moderate cut brunette hair and was wearing the same thing as me. I did
notice her makeup wasn?t put on nearly as well as mine and she was a good
ten years older then me.
	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,
earlier in the week, when Lauren and I knew we would be friends.
	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.
	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.
	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, Tyranus Effeminatus Hominum and then
Penetralis didn't really make me want to be an avid student.
	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 then 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 everyday 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 order of how it affected me.
	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 then 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 indicated their rank. 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 then
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. And stand in
that corner smelling your hand until a man 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 and I am trying
to become a Plebeian and I'll tell you why. I'm not always sure 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.
	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 pass the
Senator.
	So, we didn't have to do that. Oh we may be asked to get a drink
from the bar for him. And we had learned how to make several drinks and how
to prepare a cigar for a man. (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 wear 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 even tell me.

August 18th ? weekly blog

	Was my last blog shorter then 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. Not, here in Rome we are allowed to send emails, one a
day, to a friend. Lauren decided 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 nearly $1,000,000. I guess they were telling the truth. They must
have sold my house etc and put it all in 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 worst then that
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 me 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 then 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 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 they will end my punishment.
	I'm so tired now; I'm going to bed early. See you next week.

(Note: If I made a mistake with the Latin forgive me. I barely passed
Latin. Lauren)