See the explanatory note that follows this story.
 


 
                    WAR DIARY, 73 B.C. 

                            by 

                       C. Lakewood 


THE SPOILED WIFE AND DAUGHTER OF A ROMAN SENATOR RECEIVE A REPORT 
REGARDING THEIR ENEMY'S PLANS FOR IMPORTANT LOCAL WOMEN.  



"I, for one, am glad that the rebels are approaching," Glutea, the 
wife of Senator Flaccidus, said.  "I started keeping a 'war diary' 
months ago, and, for the life of me, I have not had a single thing 
to write in it." 

"I think the situation is more serious than you realize, ma'am," 
the centurion said, solemnly.  "Our spies tell us that Spartacus 
and his army of slaves have already made plans for the day when 
they sweep through this area, and your name was specifically 
mentioned." 

"Our name was mentioned, mother!" Labia said, clapping her hands.  
"In a real SPY report!  How delicious!  Wait until I tell my 
friends." 

"This is all most secret, young lady!" the officer said, sharply.  
"I must stress that the only reason I am telling you this is to 
persuade you to evacuate immediately!" 

"I can understand the necessity for my husband to leave, but how 
would it look if we ran away now, deserting, leaving our country 
estate here to be looted before our loyal retainers had even begun 
to mount a defense?" Glutea retorted.  "It is essential for morale 
that Labia and I stay until the end." 

"Do tell us about the spy report!" Labia said, leaning forward.  
"Don't leave anything out." 

The centurion took out a sketch of a burly Nubian and passed it to 
the two women.  "Do you recognize this man?  His name's Priapus." 

"I believe he used to work for us as a house servant," Glutea 
said, casually.  "He was caught peeping at Labia one night."

Labia blushed a little and looked at her feet.  She had enjoyed 
slowly stripping herself in front of her open bedroom window, 
knowing that the black man's exotic eyes were caressing every inch 
of her lovely white body.  She had stripped very deliberately, 
making the tease last, always being sure to step away from the 
open window just before her final garments fluttered to the floor. 

"We had him flogged and sent to the mines," Glutea added. 

Labia smiled at the memory.  As the alleged victim, she and her 
giggling girlfriends had front row seats at the proud man's 
flogging.  After he had been stripped naked and was forced to face 
them, Labia and her friends had deliberately teased him.  Labia, 
in fact, had slowly and deliberately licked a phallic-shaped honey 
comb.  Her best friend, Areola, complaining of the heat, had 
unfastened the front of her tunic to slowly rub ice on her perky 
breasts.  And another girl, Pudenda, had raised her gown shamefully 
high to "adjust" its drape.    

The titillating display had the desired effect, and the crowd went 
wild as the embarrassed man became aroused, exhibiting a truly 
heroic erection.  The magistrate thereupon doubled the number of 
strokes for "gross public indecency."  Labia still giggled when she 
recalled the infuriated look on the helpless prisoner's face when 
she playfully winked at him, and then pouted in mock sympathy.... 

Glutea, Labia, and Labia's spoiled girlfriends had enjoyed watching 
the man squirm under the lash.  Each of the females had fantasized 
about what it would be like if SHE had been the one stripped naked 
in the arena, exposed lasciviously to the jeering crowd.... 

Since the Senatorial class was so rich and powerful, the common 
people were careful to fawn over these women and cater to their 
every whim.  Yet, the women suspected that most of this scum 
resented them, which made the thought of what would happen if they 
ever fell into the hands of their subjects all the more delicious. 

Labia and her friends had become more and more excited as they 
discussed what it would feel like to stand in the arena and await 
the lash.  Would their house servants hoot and cackle at them, or 
would they simply smile knowingly when the order came for them to 
strip? 

The Nubian had been stripped stark naked.  But surely they would 
not do that to a WHITE woman?   

Would they? 

The thought of having to slowly strip naked in front of the sea of 
greasy, grinning, moronic faces was almost too humiliating to 
describe.  But, each woman admitted, it was also strangely 
stimulating… 

Labia was thrilled as she imagined herself slowly stripping, 
garment by garment, in front of the raucous crowd, while the 
bare-chested shrivener impatiently tapped the spanking rod against 
his beefy hand.  Labia imagined the same forbidden and electric 
thrill she had experienced when she had stripped in the window, 
magnified a thousand-fold by the sheer size of the audience.   

As she stripped, Labia knew, she would become the most desired 
woman in the thereabouts.  Every man in the crowd would be 
fantasizing about what it would be like to fondle her, to probe 
her, to take her.   

The lustful crowd wouldn't look away politely, like the wimpy and 
overly polite army officers and government officials she was forced 
to date.  The rabble would want her in the worst way, and she would 
be powerless to shield herself from the crowd's searing gaze.  All 
of her most delicate feminine secrets, the secrets her class's 
ideas of "Roman Virtue" forced her to conceal, would be revealed 
for everyone to see.... 

Labia blushed as she imagined the carnival-like atmosphere that 
would accompany her court-ordered striptease.  Punishments in the 
arena were public entertainment, and Labia squirmed in discomfort 
as she imagined the vendors hawking food and even souvenir drawings 
of her as she slowly disrobed in front of the laughing, jeering 
throng.   

Labia would be helpless to protect herself from the lewd appraisals 
of her anatomy.  She knew that, in particular, the foreign women 
-- Celts, Greeks, Africans, and the rest -- would be delighted to 
see a "proud Roman strumpet" wiggle under the lash.  Their catty 
chatter would burn in Labia’s ears.... 

Each of the young women initially expressed confidence that, 
because of their superior breeding, they would be able to take a 
beating with more dignity than anybody from the lower classes 
could.  THEY would not kick and wiggle, plead and squirm, as the 
rod lashed THEIR bare fannies. 

But, by the end of the discussion, each of the women reluctantly 
admitted that she had never experienced corporal punishment, and, 
in all likelihood, she would be shamefully reduced to pitiful and 
abject tears. 

Later, when Labia had told her mother about the conversations she'd 
had with her friends, Glutea admitted that she, too, had been 
troubled by similar feelings while watching the punishment.  Mother 
and daughter had grown closer that day as they both admitted their 
shameful desires to each other.  The two women made a secret pledge 
to each other that, if the opportunity ever presented itself, each 
would make sure that the other did not chicken out. 

Of course, when they made that pledge, each was confident the day 
would never come.  As the wife and daughter of a senator, both 
women were treated almost like goddesses.  Any common man -- 
especially a non-citizen -- who even looked at them in an 
inappropriate way would face harsh consequences, as the Nubian 
servant had found out.   

The two women were essentially locked away, safe and unreachable, 
utterly secure...and hopelessly frustrated.

But the centurion interrupted their thoughts. 

"It seems that your ex-servant was sent to a gladiatorial school in 
Capua rather than to the mines," he said.  "He was one of the first 
to join the Spartacus Conspiracy and has, I'm sorry to say, become 
one of its ablest and most trusted generals.  Spartacus plans to 
put him in charge here when they take control." 

"In charge?" Glutea said, with surprise.  "But he's a stableboy!  
A felon!  A slave!"

"He is a general now, ma'am, and all reports indicate that he 
is a very capable one," the officer said, gravely.  "A copy of 
his occupation order was recently intercepted, and it seems he 
has very special plans for you. 

"Your estate is to be confiscated and placed at the disposal of 
the rebel army.  Special arrest orders have already been issued 
for you and a number of the other upper class Roman women." 

"Arrest!" Glutea shrieked.  "On what charge?" 

"Hubris, cruelty, exploitation, oppression of the people...that 
sort of thing.  The mutinous slaves find it useful to portray 
themselves as 'liberators' and to focus the wrath of the people 
upon their so-called 'arrogant masters.'  

"I have a list of the women they plan to arrest," he said, taking 
scroll out of his pouch. 

"Our names...are-are they on the list?" Glutea asked. 

"Your names are the first two," he replied, soberly. 

Labia impatiently grabbed the list out of the startled centurion's 
grasp.  Her name was number one, Glutea number two, Areola three, 
Pudenda four, with half a dozen other friends rounding out the top 
ten.... 

The officer reclaimed the scroll before speaking.  "Beautiful 
women such as yourselves are used as pawns by the rebel scum.  
Your humiliation earns them a mass of loyal new recruits.  By 
making you the center of attention, and by encouraging the people 
to relish your debasement, they are able to deflect criticism away 
from their own brutal lawlessness." 

"Did you say 'humiliation'?  'Debasement'?" Labia asked, eagerly.  
"What exactly would they do to us?" 

"I would rather not say, miss," the nervous officer replied.  "It 
simply isn’t decent." 

"Sir, you can hardly expect my daughter and me to follow your 
suggestions if you refuse to share all of your information with us. 
And I'm sure my husband, the senator, would be very distressed if 
his wife and daughter decided to stay because you withheld vital 
intelligence." 

"Uh...I just thought...I mean, ladies, this is...well...very 
difficult for me to describe...,” he stammered. 

"I suggest you just get on with it," Glutea replied, tartly.  "My 
daughter and I are not made of glass, and I can assure you that 
anything less than total frankness will endanger our lives and 
your career." 

"Very well, then.  The plans call for you to be stripped and 
punished in the local arena.  It will be a public holiday, with 
bands, and music, and free food for the people.  I can assure you 
that when the rebels have committed these atrocities in the past, 
the crowds have been enormous, and the mood quite celebratory." 

"Surely they couldn't be interested in stripping an old...older 
woman like me!" Glutea said.  "My daughter and her friends are 
in their 20s, but I'm...I'm...." 

"But you have quite a lovely face and figure, if you don’t mind my 
saying so, ma'am, and I can assure you that both you two and your 
daughter's friends are intended to be the first to be...disciplined.
You are supposed to be stripped and...punished in the arena...just 
as he was stripped and punished." 

"When you say 'just as,' what exactly do you mean?" Labia asked, 
her voice quivering with excitement.  "I mean, when you say, 
'stripped,' you mean that we will be reduced to our undergarments?" 

"I'm afraid not, miss," he answered.  "The plans state most 
emphatically that you are to be stripped absolutely and completely 
naked.  You and your friends will be paraded to the arena with 
trumpets and drums heralding the procession.  You will be 
absolutely naked, and your hands will be secured behind your 
backs.  The crowds will line the route and call out the most 
dreadful things as you march past." 

"That's preposterous," Glutea said.  "The people hereabouts would 
never stand for such an outrage.  My servants would rush to my 
defense!" 

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, my lady," the officer replied.  
"Many of your servants have already gone to join the rebels.  And 
we have word that a number of others have been charged with making 
sure that you have no last-minute means of escape.  That is why it 
is essential that you leave with me now.  Otherwise, you'll be 
trapped." 

"Do the plans say what will happen to us after the...arena?" the 
senator's wife asked. 

"Regrettably, yes.  As I said, the house we are sitting in now 
will be seized for the army's use, and you two and your daughter's 
friends will live here."   

"That doesn't sound so bad."  

"I fear I have not made myself clear.  The house will be converted 
into...a-a social center.  Initially, you would entertain officers, 
and, later on, the men.  But, within the month, it is to be opened 
to the general public, as a brothel." 

"You mean...," Labia said.  "They would make us all work as 
PROSTITUTES?" 

"Yes, I'm afraid so.  Such institutions are very popular in the 
areas the rebels 'liberate.'  Most lower class men have never had 
a chance to mate with a beautiful, well-educated woman of any race 
or nationality -- much less a real Patrician -- and, as you can 
imagine, there is a great deal of...pent up demand.  The rebels 
keep the prices very low and work the girls very hard, to ensure 
that every man who wishes to can avail himself of the house, as 
often as he likes." 

Labia looked nervously at the Levantine houseboy who was pretending 
to dust on the other side of the room.  The faint smile on his lips 
and the bulge in his tunic demonstrated exactly how 'pent up' the 
demand really was. 

"I would like to thank you for your time, centurion, but my 
daughter and I will not be scared away by salacious rumors.  
It would be pusillanimous to flee now, and I can assure you 
that we intend to stay until the last possible moment." 

"But this IS the last possible moment, ma'am.  The Senate wants 
you and your daughter evacuated immediately!" 

"Again, thank you for your time," she replied, as she turned to 
leave the room.  "But, if you'll excuse me, I have to prepare for 
my afternoon massage....  Assuming my servants have not all fled." 

When the officer left, Labia immediately flew to her desk to begin 
scribbling notes to her friends.  Most of them were already packed 
and ready to head for safety, but she had no doubt that, when they 
heard the reports about what awaited them, her more daring friends 
would stay. 

She smiled.  The other night she had overhead two Etruscan waiters 
speculating about whether Areola was a natural redhead.   

Within a week, every man in the province would know.... 

		******************************

The senator's wife went to the window and listened to the faint 
sounds of chaos, still distant, but coming closer.  Probably time 
enough, though, for a massage, facial, shampoo, manicure, and 
pedicure.   

The enemy would be here shortly, and she wanted to look her best. 

Glutea smiled as she ran her hand gently across her breasts.  At 
long last, she would have something to write about in her diary....


___________________________________

Note:

Joe Doe's story "War Diary" was posted to the old Strip-Search 
group in January 2003.  It involved the spoiled wife and daughter 
of an American general in the Philippines in December 1941 and 
their attitude toward the impending Japanese invasion.  The story 
itself was not bad, but the time and place just did not work for 
me.  I was only 4 years old in 1941, so I don't really remember the 
invasion of the Philippines, the Bataan Death March, and the Jap 
treatment of POWs as these things were taking place, but I did keep 
track of later developments through newspapers, magazines, radio, 
and newsreels.  Now, of course, I'm familiar with the early years, 
too, thanks to the many histories and memoirs published after the 
war.  

I have great difficulty thinking of these events as even remotely 
titilating.  And I don't imagine that I'm unique in that respect.

Besides cleaning up the mechanics, therefore, I have taken the 
liberty of re-writing the story somewhat, to set it in ancient 
Italy, during the Spartacus revolt.  In keeping with Joe's wishes 
regarding prequels, sequels, and re-writes, I have not listed him 
as co-author.  
       
C. Lakewood