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  1. She knew that Corinthia would be utterly furious with her. A part of Gaia felt a childish defiance towards her daughter's agitation and gleefully traveled to the Domus Venus. Oh! How she missed the sheer pleasure associated with the place. Corinthia purposely chose to deny herself this incredible experience, and she had no desire to encourage her any longer. Perhaps it was folly? Either way, her eyes lit up as she entered the Domus Venus and looked around. The sights were incredible. All the workers were utterly beautiful, perfectly formed bodies that looked like marble statues made flesh and smiled. Soon a slave offered her both a compliment and a glance of wine, something she eagerly took. There was one person she desired to see, someone she found herself thinking about when there was a moment of quiet. Titinia, the owner of the establishment and the Madam who had welcomed her so much during the Saturnalia. Her favourite time of year. Gaia did not wish to cause a fuss. She sipped the wine and walked around the establishment. Occasionally she took a peek at a few Senators with some rather interesting kinks. The sounds of the acts and coupled with the music filled her ears. At times, she wished her late husband Manius was by her side to enjoy all of these pleasures with her. The reminiscent thought soon passed when she saw Titinia speaking to one of the workers, she pondered approaching and wondered how best to do it. She polished off the contents of her goblet and handed it a random, confused Senator and walked towards Titinia. "Salve, I hope you remember me?" She asked, and gave a little hiccup to indicate she had drank a little too quickly. @Anna
  2. Mew


    IGNATIUS 23 | 10th December 50 AD | Slave | Kitchen Worker | Questioning | OC | Paul Craddock Personality Iggy is a gentle, sweet guy who, strangely, enjoys his work. He's usually found in the kitchen of Domus Venus, but helps out in other positions when it's needed. He's not a morning person and will likely never be, but not in a bad way - he's not grumpy or rude, simply not terribly talkative unless it's required. He loves being around children, baking sweets for them if he can get away with it, since he grew up a slave himself and knows the life they lead. As such, he hates seeing them be reprimanded in harsh ways, but knows not to speak out, lest he receive the same, if not worse punishment for speaking out of turn. There are many things he turns a blind eye to that he wishes he didn't have to, but such is the life of a slave. His ways in keeping his room up are very neat and precise since he has been taught this nearly since birth, and if anything is out of order, he will notice. If too much is out of place at the same time, he will - almost panickedly - rush about to get it back to where and how it should be before anyone in charge notices. He does love to lounge about, but not if there is work to be done. Only after the work is complete will he allow himself to sit, or sometimes even take a meaningful breath. Appearance Standing around five-eight, Iggy isn't unusual in that sense. It's his Germanic paleness that makes him stand out - blonde, almost white hair; pale blue eyes, and a pale skin tone with a golden sheen. His face seems delicately sculpted out of marble by an elite artist and given life by the gods themselves. His body is soft and supple, but still contains the strength and durability to do the work required of him at the Domus Venus. Family Father: Mattias / Mercury - slave, still alive Mother: Amalia / Gaia - slave, still alive Siblings: Maia - older sister, stillborn Spouse: None Children: None Extended family: Unknown Other: Titinia Novella - owner, boss History -- Mattias and Amalia come from Germanic lands to find a new home in Rome. They, low on coin, find themselves borrowing from 'Herr' Marcellus Severus Minor, a local 'businessman' and promised to pay him back with the profit from their lands. -- The two fall on hard times and are unable to make much of a profit, making Amalia offer to work for him and his family to pay back the rest. With them being ignorant to the ways of Rome, she doesn't realize she has just signed up herself and her husband, who is assigned to the fields, for a lifetime of servitude. -- In May of 46 CE, Amalia bears a child - a stillborn daughter that she names Maia. Four years later, in 50, a son comes into the world. She names him Erik, but his slave name in his new home is Ignatius. -- Iggy, as the other children in the home call him, is treated well and seems to seamlessly blend in with the life, following instructions and keeping up with even some of the older children in chores once he is old enough. -- He learns what schooling there is from the matrons and other children, just enough to count his coin that he earns and to pay for market items, if he is asked to do so. As he ages, he gains more responsibility in the home and ends up in the kitchen. Marcellus' wife, Titinia, claims the boy for her business, Domus Venus. -- Now 23, he nearly has full run of the kitchen if the matron isn't there, and knows his way about the place. He loves to cook and do the dishes, and when he gets a chance, to create sweets for others as a gift or reward. He hopes to become head of the kitchen one day and please his Madame with the skills he's learned. Mew | EST | Discord or Site PM
  3. It had only been a few weeks since his arrival, but it felt like an age. Dareios wasn’t entirely sure if that was a positive or negative, but, whatever it was, he had still to feel the panic and fear he had expected. The job wasn’t pleasant – in some ways he’d even go so far as to call it boring, the same thing happening night after night after night – but the main thing was that he saw coin at the end of it, and that had never happened at the ludus. He really beginning to think that he would eventually be able to buy his freedom; a prospect that he hadn’t had before.Another thing to be said was that he had a lot more free time than before. Days, unless he had a client, were pretty much his to do with as he wanted, and he had finally been given the go ahead to leave the Venus. He’d proven himself loyal enough. He’d heard, too, that a new slave had arrived, and he’d found out as much about this Phaedo as he could, and an idea had quickly sprung from that. He was dressed in a plain tunic, his eyes for once not painted, and the only jewellery a few bracelets and a plain set of earrings. Off duty, he could dress however he wanted, too, after almost ruining one of the flimsy skirts he had to wear when seeing his clients. The gauzy material wasn’t much good when it came to climbing walls. It had caught and ripped, and he had swiftly been scolded on his return, before being ordered to wear his own clothes out. The brothel was quiet as he walked along, counting the doors until he came to the right one. He tapped on the wall beside the curtain, but didn’t wait for an answer and simply entered, flopping down on the bed and taking a bite from the apple he’d snagged for breakfast. “Fancy going to see a play?” he asked. “There’s one on down at the Forum, and I heard you like them. Beats sitting here and waiting.”Phaedo
  4. Smile, just so. Walk, just so. Move, just so. A sidelong glance over her shoulder, just so. It was a performance, each step planned and choreographed like a dance. By now, Ria thought she could probably have done this in her sleep. She wasn’t the one that the customer would end up bedding, but she had to keep them interested on the way there. That was part of her job. This one didn’t seem at all interested in her like that, but he still had eyes, eyes that could appreciate. And appreciate he did. On first glance, he didn’t seem a bad sort. Her skin didn’t crawl, she didn’t have to grit her teeth… oh she hoped he was the good sort… the new boy didn’t deserve a bad one. Well, none of them deserved any bad ones, but especially not the new… hires… to the Domus Venus. There wasn’t much she could do, except check on them afterwards… make sure they were… they were as okay as she could. This time would be no exception, but if the man hurt the new boy in any way, Ria was going to find a way to slip a scorpion into the man’s tunic before he left. Green eyes glinted as she gave another coquettish playful smile over her shoulder. A quick stab of the poisonous stinger below the waist and *poof!*, problem solved. Too soon, they had arrived. She couldn’t make it too obvious, or tell the client to wait… that wasn’t what was done and Mistress would have her head if business was lost because of a nobody like Ria. But that didn’t mean she had to stay demure and mute and obedient. The petite redhead accompanied the man intothe room, getting but the briefest look at the new boy before she had slink down into what was more like a boneless slid of her body than any kind of bow she’d ever seen done. “I’ll be back to see to you when you’re done.” She left it at that, hoping that the new boy knew that she was speaking to him without really being able to. The customer nodded and then… then Ria had no further reason to stay. She gave the new boy what was hopefully a reassuring smile, before slowly leaving the room. She would be back… and if the Gods weren’t kind to him… well, that’s what she was here for. Phaedo
  5. The evening had gotten off to a rocky start…and gone downhill quickly. About two or so weeks had passed since Phaedo had been sold at the slave market and brought to the brothel. He had had a couple of days rest before being put to work, and since then had serviced his fair share of clients. He’d been no stranger to satisfying and giving pleasure to men, and women too, for that matter. So there’d been no complaints made of him yet. His fear of being maltreated by a customer had not yet vanished altogether, nor would it ever. But he had felt more relaxed as time had passed. The Domus Venus was an upscale place, as far as the brothels of Rome went. The mistress did a good job of overseeing and protecting her husband’s investment, and thus the customers were very much discouraged from doing anything that would seriously depreciate the value of any of the prostitutes. There were several who, Phaedo now knew, specialized in that sort of thing. Customers who wished that kind of entertainment were steered in their direction. Up to this particular evening, Phaedo had only been tasked with performing the rather typical types of sex acts, for the benefit of his customers. Tonight had proven to be no the exception, but there were...difficulties...and the exact thing he feared was even now in progress. The man who had been brought to his tiny cubicle of a room had been already halfway intoxicated. He had slobbered and pawed all over the young man. But the alcohol in his veins was taking its toll. He had brought wine with him, and drank it, undiluted, in copious amounts, as he had attempted to find arousal. In that he had failed, physically, and even as expert as Phaedo had become in his last home at achieving such feats, he could not seem to help the man to a hard, lasting erection. The customer was becoming more and more drunk, more and more frustrated, and more and more rough. He'd even slapped Phaedo in the face, calling him vile names, as if it was his fault for the limp thing between his legs that refused to cooperate with either of them. He was making a lot of noise, too. So much so, that another customer, in the next cubicle, shouted at him to shut the fuck up. This didn’t go over well. The drunkard pushed himself up into a wobbling stance, as he tried to pull his cast off tunic over his balding head – and succeeded in only getting his head through. He could not seem to find the holes for his arms. Phaedo even tried to help him, hoping of course that he would just leave. But his efforts only seemed to anger the man the more, and he got a sharp shove to the chest as thanks. He careened backwards, tripping over the simple mattress on the floor, and striking the back of his head against the wall as he fell onto it. With the tunic now draped around his neck, bellowing even more over that, the drunk stepped next door and gave the other patron a slurred and exceptionally obscene suggestion of where he should put his own cock. Feeling he had scored a victory, he stumbled the two steps back to Phaedo's doorway, only to find in the next moment that the other customer had leapt from what he was doing, and launched himself onto the drunkard's broad back. His balance iffy at best, Phaedo's man lurched forward and fell, with the prostitute just having time to scramble back into the corner, to avoid being pinned under the two men. Of course, a brawl ensued, with no order or method. Feet and fists were flying, eyes gouged and hair pulled. It was a frightening sight! Phaedo had no idea what to do, other than to await an opportunity to scurry from the room, suffering a kick to his ankle as he did so, and fly, naked as the day he was born, down the stairs, to look about desperately for some help. He spotted the doorman, or bouncer, or weapon checker – whatever he was – a man named Marcus Falco – and he waved frantically to him. ”Please! Come quickly! There’s a fight!” Marcus Falco
  6. March 73CEHe had repeatedly been warned that he was not permitted to touch any of the workers at this establishment. He was playing guard for Marcellus' Missus, who was the brothel madame and owner of the establishment. Occasionally his gaze would linger on the curved breasts of one of the workers, smirked and murmured to himself a prayer to Aphrodite to control himself. Marcus had no desire to be killed for disobeying a direct order or even worse, losing his cock in the process. A small group approached. Likely they were young bachelors seeking to find sex and pleasure. It did not matter if they were married or otherwise. So long as they had coin. There was plenty of alcohol to get them enjoying themselves along with drugs from the East were available. However, Marcus had to politely check them for weapons and direct them to someone who could help them. It could be tricky dealing with these sorts. Spoiled, used to having their way, and entitled to a fault. A part of him simmered in jealousy when it came to these young men -- if only he had of been born to a different father than his life would have been greatly improved. "Young Dominuses, welcome to the Domus Venus and we're happy to have your business," He began, a polite smile on his face. "Now, I must take your weapons if you have any. Rest assured, you are more than safe in this establishment and we would appreciate it." Marcus continued, waited and hoped that the little shits would comply with his wishes. He would have preferred doing some other job -- anything, than baby sitting the Domus Venus and not being able to take any pleasure.
  7. It had been the party to end all parties… Or it should have been. Instead, it had ended up being something of a catastrophe. It hadn’t just been the bread, but one thing after another had gone wrong until both the mistress and the master had been left wondering if Bacchus had forsaken them. First, the cook hadn’t turned up, and then the entertainment had arrived drunk, and it had rained so hard that night that the water had broken through the old decaying atrium ceiling and soaked the guests. The mistress and master had ended up a laughing stock, and Dareios hadn’t been the only slave to suffer as a result, but had been the only one to be sold. Maybe it was because he had laughed at seeing the mistress’ great red wig fall off her head, and then laughed again when her rat of a dog had run off with it, the beast clearly thinking it some kind of game when they had all tried to retrieve it. Either way, he had found himself at the markets the next day. And now he found himself at the very place he hadn’t wanted to go, but there was nothing that he could do about that, and there was nothing he could do about the clothes he now wore. He literally rattled and jangled, his ankles and wrists covered in various bracelets and bangles, a pretty little necklace around his neck. They’d even gone so far as to pierce his ears! They’d painted his eyes, too, and the skirt he now wore, because the strip of cloth around his waist was a skirt, was made from the flimsiest material he had ever seen. He sat back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. They’d given him a day or two to settle in before he had to start work, and he knew just what that work would involve. He didn’t bother to look towards the sudden sound of footsteps, but continued staring up at the ceiling, counting the number of stars painted on it. Apparently stars were romantic and helped to get you in the mood? “I don’t suppose I can go out?” he asked whoever had entered. “Or am I stuck here in case I run away and don’t come back?” Helios
  8. Sparkling green eyes peeked over the rim of the large pot. A breath, two, then two sets of dainty fingers pushed aside the soft fronds of the giant plant she hid behind. Ria peered out past her defenses, frowning as she stared but not stared but stared at the blonde man’s retreating back. A pout appeared on pretty lips as she thought furiously for a moment, eyes narrowing. He wasn’t usually so unaware. Maybe he was just humouring her? A solemn little nod to no one as she nodded to herself. That certainly could be true. She peered out harder. Maybe he had had a busy night… his hair seemed more mussed up than usual. And really, it couldn’t just be her that’d had something interesting happen, what, with that party and Tertius and his offer. Parties were always happening left and right; there was no shortage of clients clamouring for company… that was good, she supposed. Leticia always had fascinating stories to tell and some of her customers were just plain bizarre. Helios told good stories too, though Ria wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him. He was an odd duck, but he was alright enough to her. At any rate, he was one of the very few that tolerated her sense of fun! Or maybe he didn’t, and was merely humouring her, but it was far too late for him now! The petite redhead burst out from her cover, bounding down the hall before leaping onto his back, clapping her hands over his eyes. “Guess who?!” she crowed, utterly delighted that she had managed to surprise him. Or not, if he’d let her surprise him, but she didn’t care. She supposed he could just turn around and bodily remove her if he so wanted, but that didn’t dampen her delight any. She dangled in mid-air, feet swinging a good foot or more up off the ground as she clung on, refusing to let go until he’d at least tried to guess. “I mean, you probably know who, but guess who anyway!” Helios
  9. April, 73 AD They were surely busy at the moment, his mistress and her associates, with all the new slaves coming to the brothel. One more had been acquired quite recently and just like when Dareios had arrived, his mistress thought that Helios should be one to greet the newcomer. He had gathered his long hair in a braid down the back for once and wore the usual thin and almost see-through tuncia, along with a few pieces of jewelry here and there. What would they want from the new one, he thought to himself… paint his eyes like Dareios? Or have him be more natural… he had no idea how the new one looked, after all… The room the one had gotten was of course not on the best place – the first floor – but a bit higher up. Not among the worst rooms either, just below the roof. Helios found the right chamber soon enough and gently slid the curtain used as a door aside, so he could look in. “Salve… anyone home?” Helios asked into the simple chamber a new whore was always given. There was barely anything but a bed with a soft layer, some cushions and a blanket, and maybe a chest with personal belongings, if the slave had one when they came or could afford to buy one. Helios had a better room, but he had also been here for a very long time and had worked his way up in rank in the brothel. Sure, he was still a slave, but he had certain… perks now. A better room, nicer clothes and jewelry – also thanks to his returning clients and patrons of course – and he had a certain amount of freedom to do as he pleased. As long as he stayed loyal to his mistress and performed his duty. He remained in the doorway, not entering just yet. He knew Dareios when he came, but he didn’t know every slave in Rome, so this one was most likely new to him. Young, they said, but not quite as young as Helios had been when he came. Phaedo
  10. February 73AD Red Light District Leticia had the evening off, and she decided: She was going to browse some wares, and get some food! Working at Domus Venus had many perks, and the best ones of all were the discounts. Of course, they weren't anything special, but that was still better than none. The more money Leticia could save while spoiling herself: The better! The lady was just in the Red Light District sauntering around, thinking about what the meal of the day would be. Some lamb? Maybe a special bread? The woman was just letting her feet do the walking as she thought merrily about dinner time. Of course, Leticia was out on a mission: She needed some new hair accessories, the ribbons she had were starting to fray, and a few of her combs have become lackluster compared to the current trends among courtesans. Oddly, she felt rather powerful today in her lovely olive green palla, and tunic of a light blue with yellow trimming. She had tied some ribbon on the tunic's sleeves around her wrists, to highlight the rings on her hand, and the bracelet that had emeralds on her left. A rare piece that she adored, and as she sashayed, lost in thought: Her eyes randomly zoned in on a particular someone. A very, very tall man stood out like a sore thumb. These broad shoulders further solidified his size, and she even paused, moving out of traffic to stare. She had seen him somewhere, somewhere... Leticia started tapping her pinky with the opposite hand as she tried to place him. Her brown eyes fixed on that short, wavy hair now. It was such a lovely color, and ah-hah! Like a light went off, Leticia knew who he was all of a sudden. Oh, serves him right for showing up at last! She had wondered if he died. She pinched her cheeks, trying to bring some rosey hue to them, and then touched her hair. It was braided around the crown of her head, with a tail of curls going down the nape of her neck. Sauntering up to the man, she stood in front of him, leaning in on tip toes, "If it isn't Proculus! My stars, it's been such an ever long time," she purred, looking up into the man's face. Yikes! He had gotten himself really beat up this time. He had a nasty scar on his forehead. She frowned for a moment, but replaced it with her smile. As if that matters! "You haven't come and seen me in so long. I was worried you had died." With a pout, she moved beside the man, so they could walk together. Leticia draped herself across his muscular, thick arm squealing on the inside about her good luck! Porculus was a rich man, not an amazingly rich one: But still one of her wealthier clients. He'd probably have gifted her a good chunk of her jewelry now that she thought about it. "Why don't you escort me? It'll be free of charge, this time," a giggle bubbled from her throat as she clung to the man. Leticia was all smiles! Thelonius || Feel free to let me know if anything needs to be updated/changed!
  11. Nothing was going right. Nothing was going right at all. But how could it? If she’d stopped for a moment, if she’d let herself be still long enough to ask herself that, well… she’d have seen that there was no way for anything to possibly go right. The moment she’d stepped foot in Rome, she should’ve known that there wasn’t any possible way for things to go the way she wanted. The way she’d hoped. Really, how could it? Stupid hope. Stupid Rome. Stupid Quintus. Stupid Roman. It was all stupid. They were all stupid… especially that stupid bubble-headed slave girl that panted after him like some stupid bitch in heat. If it wouldn’t have frightened Con, Ria would have clawed out the stupid girl’s stupid eyes— oh, Con…. The petite woman took a deep breath, yanking the neutral scarf further down over her head. Keep going. Just keep going. Quintus didn’t own her… she didn’t belong to anyone. She didn’t have to stay where she didn’t want to, and so she found herself wandering the crowded streets at night. The stares weren’t as common now. The scarf helped, but it seemed to her that most of the people out and about, citizens or not, just didn’t care much about what she looked like or the colour of her skin and hair. The street she randomly turned down was busier than the others, and several brightly dressed women drew her attention. Ria couldn’t make out what they were saying, as they smiled and waved at people… did they know each other? Her nose wrinkled as she edged closer to one of them, some kind of… dark dark substance… darker than coal… lining her eyes. The effect was unmistakable. Were they selling something? She flushed and tried to back away as their gazes met, her hands gesturing awkwardly. The scarf jostled free and fell down around her shoulders. Pale green eyes went wide and Ria was stammering. Suddenly the other woman was much, much too close. “I’m sorry, I don’t… have… don’t have much money… to buy anything…” Leticia Egyptus
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