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