A Barbaric Hairstyle
Octavia had not yet walked entirely into the courtyard of her friend’s villa, before she was met with Livia’s usual extroversion.
“Octavia, my dear, you’ve arrived just in time.” Livia said, as she nearly yanked her further. “You simply must help me decide.”
In the middle of the courtyard stood a group of about two dozen young women, easily recognizable as slaves by their simple tunics and general demeanor. The trader next to them was still trying to keep a professionally friendly demeanor, though he could not prevent his foot from tapping. His personal slave, a young boy with a razor in his belt, had seemingly fallen asleep on his stool.
Octavia tried to demur. “Oh but you know I’m not much of an expert on style, Livia...”
“Nonsense, my dear,” Livia said. “I want your advice. You always have these delightfully creative ideas.”
Though Octavia internally winced at the unintentional jab, outwardly she merely let out a small performative sigh as she realized resistance was futile. “Indian is always in style?” she tried.
“Yes, Indian,” Livia said. “Luscious, thick, black; gives you that refined, civilized appearance, so it always looks good; it’s always in fashion and it’s always boring. I wanted something more daring for the upcoming evening—you did get my invitation, right?“
Octavia nodded.
“How wonderful!” Livia exclaimed. “Now, come on, give me an Octavia idea.”
The wince was a little more external this time. “Well what about one of these Gauls? Like that one,” she said, pointing at a smaller girl with lovely hazelnut hair.
“A Gaul?” Livia asked. “Yes that does look lovely, but Gaul is so close to home. I deliberately asked Marcus to bring some more exotic ones this time. Look, he even brought one from Nubia,” she said, pointing at the black woman in the group. “Not that I would pick her, of course, but you understand what I mean, right? It seems like it would be a waste.”
Octavia pondered the group again, mentally sweeping across the group. She stopping at a tall girl with long, slightly wavy red hair who looked at her defiantly. “This Pict looks lovely,” she said.
“She’s from Germania, domina,” the trader interjected.
“Germania?” Livia said. “No, no, that’s even more overdone than India.”
“But just look at those hairs,” Octavia said, somewhat wistfully. Her mind was drifting off a little, focused more on the slave in front of her than on the conversation. The girl was taller than Octavia, which was not uncommon among the slaves, but unlike the others, she seemed to use this to look down on Octavia. There was something commanding in her eyes, something which drew Octavia in, pulled at her.
“Octavia?” Livia asked.
Octavia shook her head a little. “Sorry,” she said, putting on an apologetic smile. “I must have spaced out for a moment.” She glanced back at the redhead for a moment, before finally turning to her friend. “I’ll take this one,” she said. “That is, if you don’t mind of course, " she added hastily.
“Oh, of course,” Livia said, waving the matter off.
The trader gave his boy a small shove, startling him awake, and pointed at the German girl. The boy took the razor from his belt and went to work.
“I’ll take the girl herself as well,” Octavia said. “Provided that’s possible.”
“Certainly, domina,” the trader said.
Livia clapped her hands. “Marvelous. Now, let’s get back to my wig...“
Octavia’s husband stuck his head into the room. “Octavia honey, are you almost ready? We’re going to be late at Livia’s.”
“I’m coming, Titus,” Octavia said. “I just need to put on my stola and a wig.”
She went back to pondering the red wig in her hands. She had been unsure if she would dare to go out in something like this, but it seemed like the decision had been taken out of her hands. It hadn’t been styled yet, and there certainly wouldn’t be time to do so now.
At this point Ragna came in, carrying her clothes. She looked a bit odd, with her head still nearly bald, but she had been a good slave, and Octavia had quickly grown fond of her.
“Ah, Ragna,” she said. “Set those down over there, and put this back. I’ll be wearing one of my old wigs.”
Ragna took the wig from her and looked at it for a moment. “I think you should wear this one,” she said.
“But there’s not time to style it!” Octavia said. “I can’t go out looking like a slave.”
Ragna looked her in the eyes. “Don’t worry about that,” she said.
Octavia found herself drawn into her slaves’ eyes, as she had a couple of days ago. There seemed to be a depth to them, as if the more she looked, the more there was, so she kept being drawn in, Ragna’s eyes appearing larger and larger, taking up more and more of her vision, until they seemed to fill it. Slowly, they pulled in her other senses too. Octavia was vaguely aware that Ragna had continued speaking, but found herself unable to focus on the words; she noticed her arms were moving, but could not recall having decided to do so.
A voice finally broke through. It was Titus again. “Come on, Octavia. I said it was urgent ten minutes ago.”
Octavia blinked as awareness of her surroundings filtered back into her senses. As it did so, she noticed she was wearing the red wig.
“Gah.” she yelped.
Titus gave her an annoyed look. “Octavia dear?”
“Yes, honey?”
“We need to leave,” he said. “Now.”
“But I can’t possibly go out like this,” Octavia said. “Even if I were brave enough to wear this wig, I can’t wear it like this, and I still haven’t dressed.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Titus said. “Just put your clothes on quickly. They’re right there, aren’t they? If we’re late it’ll be a huge embarrassment.”
Octavia chuckled inwardly. Her husband was a good man, but his grasp on social conventions was somewhat poor. “Showing up with your wife looking like a slave will be a scandal, dear.“
Titus sighed. “Ok, can you just put on your clothes quickly and do the rest in the carriage? It’s just putting on a wig, right? We can take Ragna along for the ride. She can stay with the driver during the evening.”
Octavia opened her mouth to form an objection, but stopped when she noticed she plan was not actually ridiculous. She turned to Ragna and said: “Ragna, go grab one of my black wigs. It’s not important which one; they should all be fine. Go directly to the carriage. I’ll clothe myself.”
Titus nodded, content, and left. Octavia grabbed her clothes off the table and absentmindedly started putting them on. She was mostly focused on planning the logistics of this maneuver, getting ready for a formal evening naturally involving much more than simply ‘putting on a wig’, as Titus had put it. She grabbed some of the other things she would need and headed to the carriage.
It was only once she had sat down, next to Titus and across from Ragna, and the driver had already moved the horses to a light trot, that she noticed she was not wearing a Stola, but a simple slave’s tunic.
She turned to Ragna, about to reprimand her for the mistake, about to say that they needed to turn around to fix this mistake, but before she could do so, she found herself staring into her slaves’ eyes again.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ragna said.
Octavia relaxed and let herself sink deeper. Again, Ragna’s eyes seemed to become larger and larger, until they filled her vision entirely. Her other senses dropped off one by one until her mind was completely filled with the image of her slaves’ striking green eyes. It filled it so completely that it lingered even as Ragna looked away, as she moved, even when Octavia herself moved.
Her awareness returned only when the carriage stopped abruptly. Octavia looked outside. They had arrived at Livia’s villa. Confused—she had not noticed the time passing—she looked back to the inside of the carriage. It was only then that she noticed that Ragna now sat next to her husband and she across from them; they had changed places without Octavia noticing.
What struck her more though was that Ragna was now dressed in a stola, and was wearing her wig.
Before she could say anything however, Livia ran out to greet them. She looked stressed, and though she made good effort to hide it, seemed a bit out of breath. Still, she put on a bright smile as she went over to Titus and gave him a kiss on each cheek. “Titus dear, how lovely to see you,” she said. She then turned to the woman next to him. Briefly, her expression dropped and she gaped at her, seemingly about to say something. However, her vision caught Ragna’s eyes and she closed her mouth again. Her expression hung in a neutral state for a few moments before she blinked and returned to her hostess smile. She now kissed Ragna as well and said: “How wonderful you could both come.”
She then turned to both of them: “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to be a bad hostess for the moment. Two of my slaves fell ill suddenly and without them preparations couldn’t be finished in time.”
Ragna put on a calming smile. It surprised Octavia; Ragna’s usual facial expression being a mix between sullen and submissive. “That won’t be a problem at all,” she said. “I’m sure your lovely presence will be enough to tide us over until your slaves can catch up. Besides, we had some trouble getting ready ourselves. I actually brought one of my slaves along for the ride.” She gestured at Octavia. “Feel free to use her for the evening. She’s only going to be sitting in the carriage otherwise.”
Livia looked over at Octavia as if only now noticing that she was there. She cast an inspecting glace over her, but there was no sign of recognition in her face.
Apparently satisfied, she turned back to Ragna and Titus and smiled. “Thank you so much for being understanding,” she said. “I accept your offer. Please be so kind as to install yourselves in the dining room—you know the way, don’t you?—while I bring her to the kitchen and make sure the rest of the work is on the right track.” She waited for Ragna and Titus to nod before gesturing to Octavia to follow and walking into the villa.
Octavia hesitated. She wanted to say something; she felt strongly that this wasn’t right, but somehow she found it difficult to formulate the words. The thought felt slippery, fading as soon as she felt she had grasped it. She looked back at Titus and Ragna, instinctively hoping they could help her get a hold of things, that they would see what was wrong here.
Titus had already walked off, but Ragna was still looking at her. Her bright green eyes caught Octavia’s attention again, and though her hearing quickly slipped out of her perception, she could still tell what she was saying:
“Don’t worry about it.”
Octavia set down the plate of olives she had been carrying and stepped back, waiting for additional commands. Livia simply dismissed her with a gesture though, so she walked back to the kitchen.
The work came to her easily enough; her hands and feet seemed to know instinctively how to do everything and Octavia found that if she didn’t overthink things, she acted in a way that seemed to fulfill all expectations of her.
Still, she could not shake the feeling that this was all somehow... unfamiliar. She had tried repeatedly to clarify the feeling, but it again seemed slippery, getting fuzzier the more she focused on it. This frustrated Octavia, but given that she did not even know what she was frustrated about, the feeling would slowly fade again and she’d return to moving on auto-pilot, doing what she was told. Then the feeling of confusion would slowly start to nag at her again and she’d make another try at penetrating it.
She was so caught up in these feelings that she almost bumped into Titus standing in the hallway. After catching herself, she took a step back and bowed her head slightly, her body mostly moving on its own. “Apologies, dominus,” she found herself saying. “Is there anything I can do to be of service to you?“
Titus smiled at her. “Raise your head,” he said. “So that I may see you.”
Octavia raised her head. Seeing Titus’ smile stirred something in her. Whereas her tasks had a feeling of unfamiliarity even though they should be habitual, looking into Titus’ face felt familiar in a way it shouldn’t between master and slave.
“Seeing you is service enough,” he said. There was a glint in his eyes, a piece of his expression that seemed to indicate he felt more than what he had directly expressed. Octavia wondered if he was maybe experiencing the same as she was, this sense of familiarity, of connection.
Titus reached out his arm and softly caressed her hair.
Octavia felt a bit of excitement well up inside her. He did seem to feel a sort of connection. She dared look him in the eyes. The feeling of familiarity intensified, before suddenly some blockage in her mind seemed to open and she was struck by the thought that he was her husband. Was that correct? Did Titus feel it too? Did he see her as his wife? Was he here to talk to her, to fix things?
Whatever the case might be, this feeling of connection felt nice. She leaned a bit into his hand as he moved it down to caress her cheek and her neck. She closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of his touch. A small smile crept into her face.
“I’m very glad my wife bought you,” Titus said.
Octavia opened her eyes again and looked up at him again. He was still smiling, but now she recognized the other emotion she hadn’t before. Her body again moved on autopilot, beginning to fulfill her master’s order even before his hand reached her shoulder and gently pushed her down.
Octavia slowly went down on her knees, or rather her body did so. She felt detached from the act, similar to how she had felt cutting vegetables in the kitchen; the routine way she moved indicated that this must be a regular occurrence, but inside her it felt strange and wrong. Still, with nothing happening to interrupt, she slowly took Titus’ penis out of his clothes and looked up at him, waiting for his command.
Perhaps a bit of her inner feelings had snuck out to her expression, because a look of recognition went across Titus’ face. “O... Octavia?” he asked.
Octavia cautiously looked into his eyes, not wanting to be disappointed a second time.
“Octavia!” Titus suddenly yelled. He pulled her up onto her feet, into his embrace.
Octavia just leaned into him and started crying. All her emotions flowed into those tears: the feeling of being overwhelmed and confused, but also feelings of hope and happiness. Titus had found her, and though she didn’t know how, she was sure he would find a way to fix this situation. She was safe now.
Titus slowly ended the embrace, and held her out in front of him, hand on the sides of her shoulders. “What happened?” he asked.
Octavia tried to speak, but only stutters came out. She did not know anyway, and truthfully she did not want to speak about it yet. What she wanted now was to be held by Titus just a few moments longer, to be close to him, to feel safe in his arms. Instead of answering, she leaned forward slowly, and kissed him.
Titus reciprocated, and pulled her back into his arms. He was more passionate this time, pressing her into him, instead of cradling her, like before.
Octavia leaned forward a little, pushing him into the wall behind him. He moaned a little, and called out her name again. She wanted to say his, to complete the ritual, feel like a couple again, but her body refused to cooperate. It was again the reverse of her earlier feelings; the thought that felt completely natural on the inside seemed strange on her tongue, as if the muscle had no practice forming the word. She tried a couple of times, stumbling and mumbling, never reaching the end of his name, before she gave up and settled for something her body would cooperate with: ”Dominus.” She tried to say it with as much love, to erase the word itself and leave only the tone, carrying the true meaning.
Titus seemed surprised at first, but quickly a smile that appeared on his face indicated he’d caught on. He turned them around, pushing her against the wall now. “Octavia,” he moaned again, this time deliberately, and softly into her ear.
“Dominus,” she said again with a hint of a giggle. This now felt almost natural, as if they were merely a husband and wife playing.
His right hand moved down to her side. He gently pushed aside the overlapping parts of her tunic, and started caressing her bare skin.
“Dominus,” she moaned. This time she relaxed into the word a little. She was getting used to it. Titus understood her. What precisely she said didn’t matter.
He caressed her buttocks, causing her to let out a gasp, which he interrupted by kissing her. She tensed up briefly out of surprise, but soon found herself enjoying it. She reached her hands through the folds of his toga and laid her hands on his bare back.
“Should we really be doing this here and now, dominus?” she asked once the kiss was over.
“Do you want me to stop?” he said, smiling.
She shook her head. She was still a bit overwhelmed from what had happened. Being this close to Titus felt good and calmed her down, but she also noticed she was a bit fearful of letting go, unsure of what would happen then.
He caressed her hair again and gave her an admiring look. “It really does look good on you,” he said. “Makes you look fierce.”
“Wild, you mean,” she said.
He smiled at her again. “Wild like a siren.”
She dug her nails into his back, just a bit, not enough to hurt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Titus laughed. “To have a wild, lustful Germana call me dominus?” he said. “I must say it does have some appeal, yes.“
“I’ll have to remember that,” she said, pressing her hips against his. It was only a light touch, but she could still feel his penis stirr a little.
“You will?” he asked, trying—and failing—to hide his excitement.
“Hmm, hmm.” She nodded, before suddenly breaking off contact and leaning back against the wall. “I’ll have to remember to select future slaves only from the most docile, passive and unattractive peoples.”
Titus sagged a little, though he was not obvious in it, and Octavia felt her mood drop somewhat too. It was not that she felt guilty for leading him on; she had only wanted to be a bit playful, and certainly given the situation he had no right to expect the conversation to that way. Instead, his reaction had caused her to notice that the image excited her a little too.
After a moment of being torn, she decided to lean into this feeling. She grabbed him and pressed him close to her again. Then, while he was still surprised and off his footing, she turned both of them around, so that he was against the wall again.
“So,” she said. “Just so that I know who not to buy: what would you call this siren of yours?”
Titus’ face brightened, and Octavia could feel that he was hard again. He still seemed unsure though, clearly surprised by her sudden shift in direction. “Well naturally she couldn’t be called Octavia,” he said, carefully, obviously testing the water.
“Naturally,” Octavia said while reaching her hand down and gently caressing his penis with the tips of her fingers. “Way too civilised.”
He shuddered a little at her touch, but his face quickly turned to one of contemplation. He seemed to be genuinely thinking about the question. Octavia continued lightly caressing his penis, playfully distracting him, but otherwise let him work out his feeling.
“Oda, perhaps.” he said finally.
“Oda?” she said, reaching a bit further down and grasping his penis in her hand. “That’s a very nice name, dominus.” It felt natural to say the word now. It fit the situation. She wanted to say it.
“You think so?” Titus said, obviously still not entirely sure of himself.
“Yes, dominus,” she said as she began to move her hand back and forth a little. “It’s very... fierce.“
“O.. Oda?” he said, stumbling over the name a little.
She looked up at him. “Yes, dominus?” she asked.
He let out a half sigh half moan, apparently settling into the situation. “That feels very nice,” he said.
“I’m happy to hear that, dominus,” she replied.
“Oda,” he said again, moaning it this time.
“Dominus,” she replied, quickening the movement of her hand a little.
She leaned her head into his chest. They stayed as they were for a while, Octavia gently stroking Titus’ penis while they did their little call and response game. She felt herself getting excited too. Her body was heating up. She felt free, too. Her body did everything she asked of it, and what she did felt right. Whatever disconnect there had been before was dissolving.
Titus had been getting more and more confident in the game as they had proceeded, but suddently the uncertainty returned to his voice. “O... Octavia?” he asked.
She ignored him, not wanting to crash out of her own arousal.
“My slave?” he tried.
She looked up at him. “Yes, dominus?” she said.
“Would—” he started. He was stammering. “Would it be ok—Would you...”
She interrupted him. “I’ll do whatever you command me to, dominus.” She could feel him spasm in her hand as she said the words, which caused a spike of heat to go through her as well.
Titus didn’t say anything. Instead, he brought up his right hand and began to stroke the side of her face again. Thinking he wanted to kiss her, she tried leaning forward a bit, but he tightened his grip and held her back. This caused another spike of heat to go through her body. She moaned involuntarily, which seemed to encourage him. He finally moved his hand onto her shoulder and lightly pushed down.
“Yes, dominus,” she said, nodding. She started bending her knees, moving her head down along with the movement of his hand. Her breath quickened as she moved along his torso. She knew what he wanted her to do and unlike before, when she had dreaded it, this time the image excited her.
Finally, she dropped down on her knees. Titus rested his hand on top of her head, gently stroking her hair. She pushed the cloth of his toga aside, freeing his penis, and gently grasped it in her hand, before she looked up at him, awaiting his command.
He gave a small push to the back of her head.
Octavia lunged forward and took him in her mouth. Titus let out a deep moan, which he interrupted prematurely, probably remembering where they were. She started going down on him, but he managed to control himself this time. His excitement still showed in the short, ragged breaths he took though, fueling the heat in her own body.
She had never done this before, but her body seemed to know what to do. Focussing on Titus and the pleasure she wanted to cause him was all that was needed for her mouth to do things that caused shudders to go through his body. Heat spiked through her body every time he did. It felt like the opposite of what she had felt before. Where previously there had been a disconnect between her mind and her body, now they felt perfectly aligned, both rushing her forward, deeper and deeper into her lust.
After a few minutes of this, she felt him getting closer. Without stopping, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, wishing to see if there was something he wanted her to do now. A few moments later, his eyes opened too. Initially, he looked down at her, but soon his eyes darted to somewhere behind her and his expression turned to one of fear.
Before Octavia could understand what was happening, a sharp pain went through her scalp as a hand janked her head back by the hair. She fell backward and dropped onto the floor.
She had a hard time grasping what was happening. Her mind was still clouded over by the pleasure she had been feeling just seconds prior. Still, through the fog she managed to notice that something about the experience felt wrong. Slowly, she reached a hand to the back of her head, into her hair and gave it a tug. Once again, she felt a sharp pain to her scalp, though there was also a hint of a pleasurable feeling. She tugged again, harder, and once again she felt pain and pleasure. She imagined Titus doing it, and the pleasure increased. She was about to tug again, but thoughts of Titus brought her back to the situation at hand, and she finally looked around her to see what was happening.
The person who had dragged her back was Ragna. She stood in front of Titus, tall and elegant in her stola and fashionably put up black wig, lecturing him. He was still leaning against the wall, a sheepish expression on his face as he tried to stuff his wilting penis back into his toga without looking away from Ragna.
Octavia felt a bit confused at the sight, but she couldn’t quite grasp why. Wasn’t he the dominus? Her mind still felt foggy.
“Can you imagine what would have happened if someone besides me had found you?” Ragna asked.
“You’re right of course, Rubria,” Titus said. “Honey,” he hastened to add. “Dearest.”
Rubria? she thought, briefly. Her mind fogged up again quickly though.
“Go clean yourself up,” the tall woman said. She closed her eyes and rubbed the top of her nose. “Honestly.”
Titus used the opportunity to make a swift exit, mumbling some form of “Yes, honey.”
Ragna opened her eyes again and snapped her head in Octavia’s direction. “And you,” she said. “Oda, your behavior reflects on me, do you realize that?”
Octavia scrambled onto her feet.
“I mean look at yourself,” Ragna said. “Your tunic is dirty.” She gestured at the dust stains near her knees. “You managed to make loose hair fall out of place somehow.” She swiftly ran her hand through the red hair a couple of times, which made Octavia painfully aware of how much it had gotten tangled by the tugging.
“Honestly,” Ragna said. “You look worse than the day I bought you. I understand I can’t expect a Germana to behave in a civilized way of her own accord, but I thought you might at least respond to discipline, or have a modicum of self-respect.“
The speech bored Octavia. It felt like she had heard it dozens of times before. She even zoned out a little, preferring to think back to the wonderful feeling she had felt before Ragna had come in.. Still, she hung her head and tried to put on an expression of regret. “I apologize, domina,” she said. “I accept whatever punishment you choose.“
Ragna huffed. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll deal with you later. Come now, let’s get you cleaned up. Just control yourself and be civilized for a short few hours. You can have your barbarian ways with my husband once we get home.” She turned and walked down the hallway. Had Octavia been looking at her, she could’ve seen her smirk.
However, Octavia’s attention barely sufficed to mumble “Yes, domina.” before she followed Ragna down the hall. Her mind was already drifting to thoughts of what her master might order her to do that night and the heat they caused her to feel.