The “Delicia Scrolls” are the wild and salacious memoirs of Aurelia Livia Helenus or “Delicia” (her more widely used slave name) who was imprisoned and enslaved on the order of the Emperor Tiberius after her family was accused of conspiracy and treason.
After her father’s death she was held captive by the Emperor in the cells of his Palace in Rome to be tortured at his pleasure. Then as a further act of punishment and, it was said, in order to humiliate her even more, the Emperor banished her from Rome and imprisoned her as a sex slave on Capri, his private Island, which at that time was infamous for its debauchery, wild orgies and sex games.
Somehow she survived to tell her tale.
Here Delicia describes the violence and humiliation she suffered before the mob at the slave auction in Rome, during which she was pelted with pebbles and rotting fruit by an angry mob who demanded she be whipped in order to test her “acquiescence”.
Image – Hiram Power “The Greek Slave”
Note: According to regulations pertaining to public slave auctions, all potential slave purchasers the right to ask for a complete and thorough examination of the merchandise being offered for auction. This, according to a meticulous interpretation of the rules, included a scrutiny the slave’s character, a test his or her acquiescence and willingness to submit to discipline. Normal procedure was to whip a female slave on the breasts and buttocks 30 times or for no longer than two minutes. A male slave could whipped be on any part of the body for as long as was deemed necessary, providing of course that no real physical damage was done to the goods on display.
“Whip the bitch! Whip the bitch!”
They were all chanting it. Clapping their hands and stomping their feet. Chanting it over and over again. The noise was absolutely deafening.
“Whip the bitch! Whip the bitch!”
And I was the bitch to be whipped. I dared not move. I just stared down at my feet. I stood before them naked, feeling utterly exposed and more vulnerable than I had ever felt before. What had I done to inspire so much hate and cruelty? Did they really want to see me – the traitorous aristocrat’s daughter – tested for my “acquiescence” or did they just want to see me publicly humiliated and punished for what my father was supposed to have done?
Or, more likely, did they just want to see a pretty girl (if I may be allowed to describe myself as such) being whipped?
Probably all of the above I suppose. This was mob justice. Pure and simple. Revenge and cruelty as entertainment. It was just a few steps short of a public execution before the crowds in the arena. The auction was absolutely packed full. Nearly all of them were there to see me. I was infamous. My family’s downfall and my father’s death had been the talk of the town for weeks. I had no doubt this was the emperor’s revenge.
But why not execute me and be done with it?
I remembered when Sejanus was torturing me in the palace dungeons he’d told me if it had been up to him he’d have fed me to the beasts in the arena already. But the emperor had other plans for me.
And for the moment those plans seemed to include keeping me alive, presumably in order to publicly shame me and completely destroy my family’s good name.
I realize now that my interrogation in the palace dungeon had just been for show anyway.
After days of being locked up in a dark cell I was taken down to the torture chamber in chains. Sejanus stretched me out on a rack and hung me up for whipping but there had been no real attempt to interrogate me properly or do any serious physical harm to me. There was nothing I could have told them about my father’s activities anyway and I had a feeling they knew it. I was sure the emperor, who was rumored to have a love of gambling and perverse sex games, had arranged my torture purely for his own amusement. He had come especially to witness it and had even brought his entourage with him. I’d seen them watching from the back of the torture chamber, the emperor dressed up in all his red, purple and gold finery and surrounded by his obsequious acolytes and cronies.
He’d obviously seen something in me which interested him though. Perhaps my beauty under the whip had pleased him in some way. There had been a lot of gossip in the city about his sexual proclivities and it was widely joked that the prettiest slaves in the palace were usually whipped for his gratification rather than punishment.
Anyway, after watching me being tortured in the dungeon I think the emperor must have selected me as a pawn in one of his perverse games. A game which was to have no limits and the point of which was not just to torment me but to bring about my utter abasement and humiliation in the eyes of all Rome.
And what happened next reminded me of the real danger I was in.
Image – Jerome Martin Langlois
The first one came out of the blue. I had not been expecting it at all. It just missed my head by inches and landed with a loud bang on the wooden screen behind me..
Gods. What in Hades was that?
The next one hit me with some force on the thigh. It stung my leg and I jumped back in fright.
It was a large green apple.
They were throwing fruit at me!
How could they allow this? The auctioneer, a tall thin man with long grey hair and dressed in a white toga, raised his hand to say something but someone lobbed an egg at him and he swiftly escaped to the side of the platform leaving me utterly alone to face the mob.
For me there was no escape. I could not hide and all I could do was to keep my head down and steel myself in case anything hit me full on.
Something hit me with a terrible wack right in the stomach. It was large and heavy and it winded me. I saw it fall onto the ground in front of me and roll forward to the front of the stage. A large rotting pear. Viscous mushy remnants of it stuck to my belly and oozed down to my sex. This was quickly followed by a sharp blow to the head. It felt like an explosion and I was dazed for a moment. Another egg. The shell shattered and the yolk ran into my eyes and now I couldn’t see properly. I suddenly felt panicky and very frightened. The auctioneer’s desertion of the stage seemed to have been taken as a tacit permission to throw whatever they wanted at me. I was chained at the wrists and it was only with some difficulty that I could protect myself from the missiles. I was all alone and no one was going to come to my rescue.
“Make the traitorous slut suffer,” I heard someone shout and suddenly all Hades broke loose and from all directions I was assailed by a torrent of eggs, rotting fruit and vegetables. And almost all of the shots were perfectly aimed. Two large pears suddenly hit me square on the breasts. Bang. Bang. One directly after the other. Have you any idea what a large pear feels like if it hits you bang on the nipple? There is a mighty thump that knocks all the wind out of you and a kind of explosion in your chest as the fruit shatters all over your breasts leaving your nipples stinging with a hot burning sensation.
There seemed to be no limit to what was being thrown. Figs and olives were rolling all over the floor. And something red. Cherries? Gods had a mob come deliberately armed with these things? The emperor’s men? This must have planned. I was being humiliated deliberately and publicly.
The foul items stung horribly when they smacked into my bare skin and I couldn’t help but cry out and of course this just seemed to encourage them more. I heard shouts of “slut” and “traitor” and “whore” and some of the swine seemed to be deliberately aiming at my naked sex as if it were a target in a game. Throw a pear, hit the cunt and win a prize. I tried to keep my legs together and held up arms up as much as the chains would allow me. But it was no good. I was an easy target.
I could barely breathe. The blows were constant and relentless. I tried to move back but there was a wooden screen behind me. So I bent down and leaned against it just trying to fend off the blows as best I could but then they just aimed at my exposed back and ass. It was just like being whipped or spanked. And it hurt just as much. The deluge was unbearable now and I began to panic. Oh Gods. Help! Help! Please! I beg you to stop! I can stand no more. Please! Was there no one here to help me? Where were the guards? Why were they doing nothing? Surely the auctioneer couldn’t allow this to continue? This was not an auction it was a public execution.
I suddenly felt a hot stinging wave all over my back. A shower of pebbles. Gods, are they stoning me? Oh Jupiter and Mars mercy please. Not that. I feared for my life now. Is this how it ends?
The pebbles bit into me like vicious tiny rodents. I tried to keep very still but how could I? I crouched down and tried to curl up into a tiny ball vainly trying to defend my naked body from the torrent of projectiles showering down upon me. I glanced behind me and at the front of the stage I saw them all cheering and laughing, their arms raised, hurling horrible abuse if they had nothing more injurious to hand.
I just closed my eyes and prayed. How could they do this to me? Whatever had I done to deserve this? They were a nasty vicious hate filled mob. Worse than animals. Oh gods what next. Something large and heavy crashed onto my back with an almighty thud and exploded on me drenching me in its sticky juice. Please stop now. I can’t take anymore. Please stop. Please…
The auctioneer had obviously surrendered all control of the room to the mob. If he didn’t do something soon they would start stoning me with rocks and then I’d be done for.
I must tell you I am not afraid of death but I would rather go easy and quickly than be torn apart by these animals. I could only think that if a public whipping was going to get me out of this alive then so be it, let them whip me. Whip my breasts if that’s what they want. My ass. My cunt. A hundred times. Whatever. I’d rather be whipped than stoned to death like this. Gods, Jupiter and Mars give them whatever they want but get me out of this please.
In desperation, on my belly and with my arms covering my head, I tried to crawl over to the side of the stage. I could see the auctioneer there. I looked up at him. Pleading. Do you want me to beg? Very well. I am begging you now. My life is in your hands. Do with me as you wish but please, stop this. But he seemed oblivious to me. He was just standing there staring out into the crowd with a look of bewilderment on his face. My case was infamous but no one had told him to expect this. I tried to raise my arm to him. Please, sir. Save me! For all the gods sakes save me, please.
He looked down at me for a moment. Then I saw him glance at the back of the stage to where the other slaves were kept in cages. Did I detect a look of pity of that thin leathery face? No. A trace of fear and contempt perhaps but not much else. He was thinking now of the threat to all that valuable property kept completely unguarded behind the stage. The slaves. If a violent and lusty mob reached the stage they could easily get to the slaves. The damage to his livelihood could be considerable. Then, finally, as if awoken from a dream and spurred on by the threat of the losses he might incur, he raised his sword high and yelled out for the guards.
In no time a dozen beefy centurions had positioned themselves in front of the stage and drew their swords. They fought their way into the crowd and forced the mob back at sword point. More guards took the stage and the hailstorm of fruit ceased as suddenly as it had started. After all no one was going to mess with armed centurions and risk being arrested or worse.
I was completely disoriented. All about me lay pebbles and the shattered slimy remnants rotting fruit. Unable to get up I just lay on the floor gasping for breath. My aching naked body, stinging from the pebbles, was completely covered in a mush of sticky ooze of rotten fruit.
With some relief I heard the auctioneer shouting orders at the crowd, warning them that if there any further disturbances the auction would be postponed. A slave girl came on and helped me to my knees and started wiping me down with a bucket and wet rags.
She whispered something out of the side of her mouth. “Be brave, sister, please be brave. Endure and stay calm. The gods will smile upon you yet.”
She had called me sister. Her words both surprised and soothed me. And all of a sudden I felt less alone. I smiled at her timidly. She was young, about my age, tanned from the sun and with the most striking blue eyes. Very pretty, if a little on the thin side. As she reached up to wipe my face the ribs below her naked breasts were plain to view. I looked into her face. In it I saw a lifetime of hard labor and cruelly learned experience. But I sensed a wisdom in her that I still lacked.
She obviously had no idea who I was but she had seen me as her sister. She spoke no more, remaining silent as she gently held my cheek with her hand to clean up my face. She looked me straight in the eyes while she did so and her expression said it all. Be strong. Be not afraid.
I gazed into her deep blue eyes and for a moment I felt a strange and powerful attraction to her. She had a beautiful kind face and her lively iridescent eyes were of the deepest blue. Like the sea on a sunny day. So blue that I fancied I might lose myself in an infinite expanse of soothing azure. She paused for a second and leaned her head towards me and I suddenly had the strongest feeling she was going to kiss me. Something I now strongly desired.
After washing my arms, breasts and belly and she began to wipe away the sticky mush on my thighs. Keeping her eyes averted she opened my legs and I couldn’t help but be aware of the incredibly arousing sensation of her hand dabbing at my thighs, moving ever more closely and inexorably, towards my gapingly exposed sex.
There. Now. Yes. Oh touch me, yes…
After quickly glancing behind to see if anyone was looking she leaned in very close to me and with her free hand she furtively pushed her fingers into me and ever so gently pressed within. I gasped. All of a sudden I was hers to please. In a moment everything that had just happened seemed to fade away into nothingness and silence. I looked up. I saw only her lips. She was smiling. Her mouth was red and full and I was forcibly drawn to it. At that moment there was nothing I wanted more than to have her kiss me and be wrapped in her arms and to explore the ecstatic miracle of her body. Her breasts were so close to mine. Our nipples almost touching. Her fingers broached ever deeper inside me, soothing me, cleansing me, making me feel my true self once more. I felt a sudden and massive surge of power rising up from my sex. The anticipation of unbearably sweet pleasures to come.
But it was to be unfulfilled.
The moment didn’t last. How could it? There was a loud cough behind us and she immediately withdrew. If someone noticed she’d be whipped for sure.
When she’d finished washing my feet she threw the rag down and stood up. I stared up at her in gratitude. She seemed to tower above me, her shoulders square and her bare breasts proud, full and luscious. She gave me an almost imperceptible nod. I nodded back. More grateful than she would ever know. Then, replete with a desire that was as insatiable as it was exhilarating, I watched her hurry away.
Image – William Mortensen “Slave Girl”
For a moment I pondered that there was a type of nobility to be found in all kinds of people. Even slaves. Nobility in its truest sense. Not the kind I had been born into. The nobility of love and compassion. I knew my father would definitely have agreed with that.
I also knew I was not alone now. and I felt I had also been restored or renewed in some way. What the slave girl had done was not just to clean me up. She had washed away more than just dirt. With her beauty and her compassion she had made me aware of something beyond this ephemeral nightmare. And made me aware of its power.
I felt as though life had returned to me. And especially to my sex. There was also a kind of – how can I describe it? – a humming sweetness between my thighs. It wasn’t just the song of my sex calling for the pretty young slave girl. She had inspired it but there was something else there too. There was life and beauty and strength in my song and it was universal and divine and it sang its sweet mellifluous tune to me and to the world and to anyone who cared to listen.
I thanked the gods. For I had no doubt that the slave girl had been sent to me by them.
Be brave, sister, please be brave. Endure and stay calm. The gods will smile upon you yet.
A guard led me back to the front of the stage.
Very well. Let’s get this over with.
A strange kind of calm had descended upon me. I felt entirely passive. Altogether indifferent to whatever was about to happen. I had no say in it after all. Why should I care? I accepted it and the acceptance gave me strength. I was sure the Emperor had other plans for me in the future but I would worry about them when the time came.
They were still there. The mob. But I did not fear them now.
Whip me boys. See my nakedness. Delight in it. Am I not beautiful? See my breasts, my thighs, my sex. How madly you lust after them. How obsessively and slavishly you desire to own me. To make me yours. To possess me.
But deep in your hearts you know you cannot, don’t you?
See if I don’t like it.
See what you get.
When absolute calm had finally been restored the auctioneer addressed the crowd.
“A number of requests have been made to assess the slave’s submission and acquiescence by public flogging. It will of course be the pleasure of this house to comply.”
To be continued.