Quarry in the Quarry

18 year old lady Aurelia just couldn’t understand it!

As she lay in the shade on her specially imported, luxury divan overlooking her father’s stone quarry – being fed grapes and figs by her ever attentive maidservant, Malia – one of her father’s dirty quarry-slaves in the heat and stench below just didn’t seem to be responding to the big, burly, male overseer’s whip!

The terrible sound of the overseer Brutus’s cracking whip echoing around the quarry was even making poor Malia flinch – even though she was no nearer to its stinging blows than her young, Roman ladyship herself, and could rest assured in the knowledge that her mistress Aurelia would never permit a whip to cut across her own, Nubian back. She was her mistress’s friend and confidante, as much as her servant; in fact, the two young women got on like a veritable Roman villa on fire!

But as for the middle-aged, male work-slave down below in the dusty quarry – unbelievably he was just cowering there in the dirt, as blow after blow, and cut after cut, of the overseer’s fearsome three-thonged, brown leather whip rained down upon him! Why wasn’t the stupid fool getting up and resuming his arduous work with renewed vigour – righteously stimulated by the Roman whip? Was he just plain indolent? Or even obstinate? Didn’t the slave want to increase his Roman owners’ wealth and power by mining more rocks for them with his discarded, metal pickaxe and brute, male strength?

It seemed not, for his pickaxe remained stubbornly on the ground beside him whilst he was being whipped, glistening in the midday sunshine. His whipped and scarred back was now glistening too, observed the lady Aurelia, licking her lips lasciviously as she swallowed her latest, refreshingly juicy grape.

She was curious about the whole incident:

‘Malia darling, run on down to Brutus and have him bring that lazy work-slave to my feet, would you? I would enquire of the wretched creature why he sees fit to rest in my father’s workplace, rather than work – despite his reward of a flogging!’

The Nubian servant-girl smiles at her mistress. To be honest, she had been wondering the exact same thing – why wasn’t the work-slave responding to the whip, and getting up to resume his hard labour? She certainly would be doing so were she ever to find herself reduced to such unfortunate circumstances, for, although she had never been whipped herself, she was sure its biting sting must be truly ferocious – judging by the anguished cries of the male work-slaves whom she too enjoyed watching suffer alongside her mistress on their regular jaunts to the stone quarry!

‘Yes, my lady. At once, my lady.’

Malia admired and envied her young, Roman mistress very much – her wealth and absolute female power, despite her being only the same, tender age as the Nubian maidservant herself. Malia thought of her mistress as a shining example of what a young woman could aspire to be when born into a life of opulence and privilege – a whipper of men; a beautiful, young harridan! For the lady Aurelia was not averse to whipping the male, household slaves herself back in her father’s villa, and to permitting her likeminded maidservant to join in the process – if not by actually applying the whip to a slave’s back, then by holding his head still between her Nubian calf-muscles as he knelt to receive the blows from his Roman mistress’s punishing whip!

As she left her brave mistress to temporarily fend for herself by peeling her own grapes and figs, the maidservant Malia was hopeful that some similar, slave-scissoring role would shortly be forthcoming for her strong, Nubian calf-muscles, for of one thing she was absolutely sure – her beloved mistress would not summon the work-slave to her aristocratic, golden-sandaled feet if she were not planning to remonstrate with him, and physically punish him, in some form or other!

………………………………………………………………………

Taskmaster Brutus had to drag the whipped work-slave by the scrawny hair all the way up the hill to where the elegantly-coiffured, dark-haired and dark-hearted lady Aurelia was reclining, so weakened was the wretch by the whip. The indolent, whipped slave literally collapsed over the end of the couch where her young, Roman ladyship was resting her aristocratic, sandaled feet.

He seemingly had enough residual strength, though, to immediately start slobbering over those shapely, smooth, suntanned ankles and golden, high-heeled sandals, for, despite being whip-weary, he still had enough of his wits about him to realise he was in the presence of female power and greatness – and was desperately in need of some young-womanly compassion and mercy at this particular juncture!

But the lady Aurelia was having none of it! Only she decided when a male slave should have the honour of kissing her feet! Such impertinence! Insolent as well as indolent! The look on her face was enough to make Brutus read her mind, and pull the slave’s dripping-with-sweat head away from the aristocratic, young, Roman woman’s shocked feet and down onto the dirt below. He also rewarded the work-slave’s forwardness with several more stinging cuts of the whip on his already whip-scarred back.

‘Uggh - you disgusting piece of filth! How dare you slobber and sweat all over my nice, clean feet, ignorant slave!... Brutus, keep whipping him! Break him! Make him apologise to my feet!’ decreed the lady Julia.

Taskmaster Brutus smiles, for he loves to whip almost as much as the lady Aurelia loves making him whip:

‘Yes, my lady! It will be a pleasure, my lady!’

Several more stinging cuts of the taskmaster’s overused and fraying, three-thonged, brown leather, work-whip cut into the lazy and impertinent, prostrate slave’s back in close proximity to both the lady Aurelia and her maidservant, eliciting cries for sweet, feminine mercy from the justly fustigated, workshy wretch. Her young ladyship, still tucking into her refreshing grapes of wrath, relished the sight and sound of the whip, whilst the more cautious maidservant stepped back, anxious not to get caught up in its stinging blows!

Seeing her Nubian maid’s anxiety, the lady Aurelia ordered Brutus to stop:

‘Enough, Brutus! Now present the wretched slave to my feet again, that he may pay homage to them in a proper manner befitting a contrite and chastened slave! Have him kiss me on the big toes!’

‘Yes my lady!’

Once again the none-too-gentle giant Brutus grabbed hold of the freshly-whipped work-slave by the hair, and pulled his head up out of the whipping dirt and onto the lady Aurelia’s shapely, golden-sandaled feet beneath the white hem of her ankle-length stola on the far end of the divan:

‘You heard your mistress, whipped slave! Kiss the lady Aurelia on the big toe of her right foot, and then apply your lips with equal respect to the big toe of her left foot! Kiss the glorious feet of your Roman better!’

Helpfully, master Brutus manipulated the pained work-slave’s head over each aristocratic, feminine big-toe, since the slave was both weak, and, being a mere quarry-slave, unaccustomed to kissing the feet of his female betters in the time-honoured, respectful fashion of a male slave – as evidenced by his undisciplined slobbering over her young Roman-ladyship’s feet and ankles when first he had been presented to her.

Now the lady Aurelia was enjoying the attention of the anonymous work-slave’s lips to her bare toeskin inside her strappy, golden sandals, for she was the one in control of the demeaning act of obeisance on his part! Uncontrolled, unbridled submissiveness on the part of a hunky, if somewhat aged, male slave disconcerted her; but a middle-aged, slave-hunk labouring over her superior, aristocratic feet under pain of the whip – that she found immensely pleasurable and satisfying!

She giggled! The slave’s lips and mouth felt parched on her bright red painted big-toenails and cuticles. She supposed his mouth must be dry and thirsty, but the effect for her, which was all she really cared about, was that his big, male mouth felt delightfully ticklish on her dainty big-toes!

She laughed, and explained the reasons for her laughter to her loyal maidservant:

‘Ha! Ha! By Jupiter, the wretched slave’s mouth is tickling me, Malia! Ha! Ha! Here – come and feel it for yourself on your own foot!’

And with that she smilingly beckoned to her Nubian maidservant to come forward.

The latter was somewhat shy, and needed further words of encouragement from her mistress to step forward, for, being a mere maidservant, she had never had her feet kissed by a male slave before; nor even by a male lover!

‘Ha! Ha! Don’t be shy, Malia! He won’t bite your toe – only kiss it! Brutus’s whip shall see to that, eh Brutus? Ha! Ha!’

‘Indeed, your ladyship!’

The thought of that dreadful whip cracking again in her close proximity didn’t exactly inspire the diffident maidservant with confidence, but, on the other hand, doing as her mistress ordered was probably the best way to spare the slave any more whip-blushes from his brutal taskmaster’s terrifyingly-loud whip.

It wasn’t that she cared about the state of the work-slave’s back – it was just that such a mighty whip frightened and startled her every time it struck him in her intimate presence!

She therefore, selflessly, stepped forwards and extended her right foot out into the dirt beneath the kneeling workshy-slave’s face, his head still being skilfully manipulated and controlled by taskmaster Brutus around such young-womanly, Roman and Nubian foot-beauty.

The maidservant’s dress was made of cheaper material than that of her mistress’s, but it was much more brightly coloured, being African. The whipped slave noticed, as his head was now rudely shoved down towards the Nubian maid’s extended foot, how the hem of her ankle-length, brightly-coloured, African-maidservant’s dress was also dusty from the quarry where he had been working – in contrast to the pristine white of the lady Aurelia’s aristocratic stola-hem.

He noticed too that the Nubian maidservant’s sandals were much simpler and dustier – single-strapped, flat, brown leather sandals; none of the exotic, shimmering gold and aristocratic high-heels that adorned the lady Aurelia’s sandals, raising her upper-class, Roman insteps up above the common dirt.

And, most of all, he noticed that the maid’s dusky, brown, unpedicured foot smelt au naturel! The lady Aurelia’s feet had been pedicured and perfumed – probably by this very maid. But the maidservant’s own, African toenails were unpainted, meaning that the work-slave could detect little ridges of black toejam beneath the edges of her toenails as his face was unceremoniously projected down towards the African servant-girl’s exotic, foreign feet by the ever-helpful taskmaster Brutus.

The work-slave was not a proud man; he was actually a very humble man, and made a point of kissing the Nubian girl’s big toenail on its dirtiest, stinkiest part, even gently curling the tip of his slave-tongue into the rough, upper edge of her toenail in an effort to try to taste and extract some of that raunchy, Nubian-girl toejam.

Any taste of sweet feminine toejam or glistening footsweat was a welcome relief to his dry and parched, work-slave mouth!

But the young, inexperienced African woman giggled and promptly withdrew her common-girl foot from his face, back beneath the relative safety of her ankle-length, African-girl dress hem.

‘Ha! Ha! You see, Malia! What did I tell you? Ha! Ha! It tickles, doesn’t it?’ laughed the lady Aurelia.

‘Yes, my lady!’ smiles back the Nubian maid, her normally brown face now fetchingly crimson with embarrassment. Assisting with a slave-whipping by holding the victim between your Nubian legs is one thing – but having your dirty, stinky foot kissed in public was quite another!

‘Ha! Ha! Did he offend you, Malia? Would you like him whipped?’

The work-slave’s heart visibly sank, along with his rejected head! Not more whipping, surely? Surely sweet feminine goodness and mercy would prevail from his fellow servant – superior to him though she was, being the prized possession of the mistress, as opposed to just another, faceless work-slave in the quarry like him?

But, sadly for the quarry-slave, as we have already established, the Nubian maidservant with the smelly feet liked watching others being whipped – or, more accurately, she knew that her mistress liked to have slaves whipped. And, above all else, she lived to please her mistress:

‘Oh, yes please, my lady! The slave’s tongue did indeed tickle my toe and make me feel uncomfortable. Please have him whipped!’

The lady Aurelia clapped her pretty, bejewelled, aristocratic hands with glee, whilst taskmaster Brutus smiled cruelly and uncoiled his whip, dropping the disobedient and incompetent work-slave’s despairing head into the dirt once more – right in front of his Nubian accuser’s unsympathetic, dusty-sandaled feet!

The mighty and powerful, Roman taskmaster then raised the three-thonged whip up into the Roman air behind him – ready to strike once again down onto the recalcitrant work-slave’s kneeling back.

‘Brutus – stop!’

The lady Aurelia suddenly sprang into life and raised her indolent, but beautifully lithe, Roman body up off the divan, startling both her maidservant and the whipmaster by her sudden and unexpected movement:

‘Hand me the whip!’ she commanded Brutus whilst circling the helpless slave at her feet, making sure to hitch up the hem of her pure, white stola as she did so, so that it would not become sullied by the Roman quarry dirt.

The about-to-be-whipped-again slave noticed, from the corner of his cowering eye, how the young, fair-skinned but suntanned, Roman lady’s golden, high-heeled, strappy sandals shone in the sunlight as she paced around him. Such a contrast to the maidservant’s dull brown, flat, motionless sandals directly in front of his kneeling face.

The lady Aurelia carelessly let the tail-ends of the brown leather whip trail in the dust and dirt behind her aristocratic, high-heeled sandals as she continued to circle her quarry. Most unprofessional, thought the slighted taskmaster Brutus to himself!

But the lady Aurelia knew exactly what she was doing; she may be an amateur slave-whipper, but she had had plenty of practice deploying a whip back in the courtyard of her father’s opulent villa, and she knew that the mere sight of the dangerous, already frayed, brown leather whip-tails trailing through the dust would instil additional fear into the kneeling slave’s punishee-psyche:

‘Malia, step forward again and secure this wretch’s head between your legs! Ha! Ha! Think of him as your personal prisoner while I whip him for you! Make him stare at your dusty feet and ankles beneath the hem of your dress whilst he suffers pain! Ha! Ha!’

Maidservant Malia smiled malevolently. She was back on familiar territory now, for she always enjoyed holding a slave’s head down between her shapely, strong, bare, black-African calf-muscles whilst her mistress was applying the whip to his bare back! And today, the fact that the slave was effectively being whipped at her African behest, only added to her sense of excitement and piquancy!

The next thing the desperate work-slave knew he was entombed in semi-darkness beneath the hem of the African girl’s cheap, garish dress, staring at the shapeliness of her Nubian anklebones and the pink, bare skin on her hardened brown heels, whilst involuntarily inhaling her natural foot-odour. The African girl’s ardent foot-odour was not enough to anaesthetize him, however, against the biting sting of the lady Aurelia’s whip on his already tender and sunburnt-sore back!

He suffered mightily under that modest, African-girl dress hem; and under the haughty, Roman girl’s unforgiving whip!

……………………………………………………………………

In fact, he was off work sick for several weeks afterwards; infection had set in to his whip-wounds, thanks to the lady Aurelia’s careless trailing of the whip-ends through the dirt before applying them to his back!

But she didn’t care. There were plenty more slaves in her father’s quarry, and in her father’s house there were many recovery-dungeons! And besides, Brutus would make sure the indolent slave worked twice as long and hard once he had recuperated sufficiently to be put back to work.

From that time onwards, every time her beloved maidservant Malia inadvertently tickled her feet whilst washing them or pedicuring them, the lady Aurelia recalled that happy day on the hill overlooking her father’s quarry, when she had personally whipped a lazy and incompetent workshy-slave in her golden, high-heeled sandals for tickling her Nubian maid’s sweaty big-toe with his dry and parched mouth!

Happy days indeed!

Aurelia still couldn’t understand, however, why the slave had not responded to Brutus’s stinging whip in the first place down in the hot and dusty quarry! In all the excitement of the moment – the whipping and foot-domination of the hapless ruffian – she had forgotten to query the quarry-slave as to his seemingly inexplicable conduct! Aurelia had never before known a slave not to be invigorated and cajoled back into work by the sting of one of her father’s whips, especially when applied by their brutal, and highly effective, slave-overseer!

A curious thought now occurred to her. Had the wretched quarry-slave actually wanted to be whipped in her divine presence, and made to kiss her feet? He had certainly seemed keen enough to shower her white feet and golden sandals with feverish kisses when first he had been presented to her! And she had noticed how his mouth had definitely sought to linger unnaturally on her Nubian maidservant’s black big-toe.

Ha! Ha! Perhaps the pathetic, middle-aged wretch actually likes kissing superior young women’s feet, be they black or white, rich or poor, clean or dirty, and had engineered the whole thing, confident that his wanton laziness and disobedience in the quarry would bring him to the attention of his superior mistresses up on the hill!

The lady Aurelia smiled to herself. That would have meant he had been manipulating her – that she had, in effect, been the quarry-slave’s quarry!

Ha! Ha! Surely not?!

The End