The land of milk and honey E-Book

Caroline Reymont-Bafier

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 113

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

In a fictive erotic story, a young guy from Germania was caught by the Romans and transported to a special camp near Rome. He is trained as a sex slave for the high-society of Rome in several disciplines. During his training there are several examinations, he had to fulfill. From the beginning he was a little beloved by his trainer Domenica, a very attractive woman. Finally, he was sold by an auction to a rich Roman lady and her young mice. This is only for adults with direct sexual descriptions.

Leseprobe

Logo

Ŷ

selfpublishing cora-li

Titel

Coraline Reymont-Bafier

The land of milk and honey

Volume 1:

The Roman slave school

selfpublishing cora-li

Impressum

Note: for adults only!

The plot is fictitious, any similarities with living persons are purely coincidental. All persons mentioned by name are fictitious.

Contains very explicit descriptions of sexual acts and is written for adults only.

Book cover with motif created by AI (nightcafe).

Text, prompt and book cover all rights Coraline Reymont-Bafier 2025

Publisher: [email protected]

Translation to American English by DeepL.

In Coraline Reymont-Bafier's fantasy, a fictitious Roman slave school appears to be a cross between a fitness temple and an S&M studio.

Coraline Reymont-Bafier was born in Berlin-Lichterfelde in 1983 and has lived in various relationships with both men and women. She worked as a dominatrix and knows the S&M scene: here she has boldly described her sexual fantasies in her first novel.

For K

Foreword

Here is a collection of erotic dreams, 'head cinema'. I have bundled them together and poured them into a coherent story. Night dreams, day dreams, scraps, longings, desires, strong stuff, honest renditions of what human - female and male - fantasy is capable of thinking up, of dreaming. Only the imagination, the unreal, is the subject and is depicted here.

A translation into possible realities is impossible and turns the following into abominations from which I recoil because of cruelty, inhumanity and brutality. I would like to emphasize that I do not despise women or men, on the contrary, I love them.

The appeal should lie in the fantasy world in which everything is conceivable, but not possible to imitate.

This is the eroticism of power games, of 'surrendering' on the one hand, of domination on the other. One is the eroticism of excitement, of lust, of being trapped in ideas of rape and desire, of pain and pleasure.

The beauty of literature is that it is fictional and writers and readers can enjoy themselves in an unreal world that they have put together themselves.

This erotica is written for women and men who want to embark on this journey with me.

Coraline Reymont-Bafier

The Young Wild Ones

In Rome, word got around in society, especially among the ladies, that new 'young savages' had arrived at the 'schola servorum', the 'slave school'.

It was always a highlight in the annual social calendar. A refreshing event that always follows the same ritual.

The interested ladies were invited into the large meeting room of the 'schola', where they took a seat on their reclining chairs and enjoyed the cool wine and canapés. The nine young men were individually displayed naked on a stage. The leader, Agatha, personally extolled the virtues of each of them.

"Here we have Errectus! He's still young, but already a handsome fellow, he comes from Gaul."

To show off his assets to their best advantage, Domenica stepped behind him as his instructor, pushed the drumstick between his legs and clearly told him to pull them apart. Then she grabbed his testicles from behind, squeezed them a little and pulled the bridge between his testicles and anus. The other hand approached his small nipple from behind, which was already standing upright. Erectus seemed to visibly enjoy the treatment and in return his little cock stood upright.

The hall resounded with a protracted 'Aahh'! The Roman matrons enjoyed this sight and were happy to return every year to this 'ball of the young and wild', as it was also known.

Always a refreshing event. The naked actors were not yet all shown together on stage for a comparison at a glance, but one after the other, but the audience was already offered a variety of penis variants:

Rather elongated, thin ones without continuous stability, trimmed ones with glowing red acorns, thick short sausages and then the medium-sized ones, which stood upright at an angle during the whole presentation and were so full that the veins stood out. The choice for the ladies was very difficult and therefore some who could afford it followed the principle of 'trial and error' and booked all the options one after the other.

All the ladies knew that these young men were virgins - or rather 'young men' - i.e. unspoiled. The guys had no idea about sex, sometimes didn't know the Roman language or only knew fragments of it and only reacted spontaneously from the gut. The older ladies, in particular, were keen to sleep with them in order to revisit the illusion of their youth.

But they were well aware of the fact that they could also win rivets at auction. The only safeguard was that the instructors made sure that there had never been an absolute disaster at a rendezvous in the entire history of the schola, and if there really was a complete failure, they could always send him straight to the galley rowers and chase him out of the school.

But before such a date with one of the boys, an exact ranking was determined in a wild auction round after their introduction:

Nine young savages were rented out to the ladies every hour for a week and a price was determined by an auctioneer in the usual way with a hammer. Naturally, the highest prices were achieved at the beginning for the first booking, i.e. the initialization, so to speak. Why were the guys with the longest tails always the most expensive?

The person or persons - unless there were gay men in the auction room - who achieved the very highest price was the respective annual group winner and their training was carried out with particular care.

In the school management's calculations, 'the week of free screwing', as they called it, was an extremely clever strategic concept. The testosterone-charged 'young savages' were first 'milked', which was very good for their subsequent training, as they could be better managed in a calmer state. What's more, the event always brought good money into the school's coffers.

I was fourth in the inspection round. Domenica's action from behind, as with Erectus, got my mediocre Martian into position quickly and well. But I didn't have the longest or the thickest. If she had determined the stability with the 'cradle test' back then, I would certainly have achieved a higher price. But I didn't know about the test, nor was it a criterion for the auction. It was just a matter of putting the nine of them in the bedrooms of posh ladies and gay gentlemen for a week for as much money as possible.

The auction price that was offered for me was also average. Only my black hair, on my chest and even on my shoulder blades, made me valuable to some Roman women. I was considered a special specimen of a Germanic barbarian. My figure wasn't ideal yet, but it wasn't bad either. An older, good-looking Roman woman came up to me and examined me closely, even sniffing me to see if she liked my body odor. She was probably an expert, although she had become quite broad with her age. She herself smelled strongly of precious oils with a hint of musk and cinnamon, which reached my nose and was probably so convinced by me that she bought me for several bookings.

How did I get the honor of standing here naked and erect in front of a select audience to be auctioned off?

So here is my story:

Schola servorum

I was standing naked in a row with exactly nine other young men in a kind of barracks yard and had no idea how I had got here.

In my homeland of Germania, a troop of Roman soldiers had captured me, tied me up, blindfolded me and set me on a long march.

After a few days, or maybe it was weeks, a few moments ago my bandage was taken off for the first time in a long time and I found myself in a dark cell with other slaves.

I think that was my official status now. I had probably lost my freedom. Yes, that's how it was in the Roman Empire if you were unlucky and not a 'cives Romanus', i.e. a Roman. Or should I say 'lucky' rather than 'unlucky'? After all, it was pleasantly warm in the cell and it should have been really hot outside in the sun. Where was I? They said in my home country that it was supposed to be hot in Rome, the capital, in summer. It was summer now, wasn't it? So was I in Rome?

At the entrance, which was locked with an iron gate, I could read on a sign: 'schola servorum'. My Latin was lousy, but I understood: 'slave school'. What on earth was that about? Since when did the Romans train their slaves? I'd never heard that before!

Opposite me stood a row of three strangely dressed Roman women. They were all young, slim, somehow perfectly trained and good-looking. They all wore a knee-length crimson toga made of woolen fabric, held together at the shoulder with a golden brooch. They also wore lace-up sandals made of fine black leather.

A few steps in front of this row was probably the leader in a similar uniform, only a little more splendid.

We slaves were bound together at the feet with chains, a wooden yoke rested on our shoulders and our hands were chained to it with iron bandages. We all looked miserable, dirty and neglected.

"I welcome you to the slave school."

The leader spoke slowly in High Latin, which was translated by several interpreters into Celtic, Germanic and other languages.

"You have been selected and found suitable to serve in the slave school. This is a great privilege that you should never forget. You are still in chains, but we trust in your cooperation here and will take them off you at the end of my introduction. To be clear, if any of you grossly break the rules or even try to escape, we will pick you up and put you in the galley convicts. There are several legions around the camp, so we'll find anyone who tries to escape."

She took a few steps forward in our direction, walked along the row and looked deep into everyone's eyes.

"Did everyone understand that?" she yelled in a sharp commanding tone.

We didn't realize that we had to answer now.

"I can't hear anything!"

Now she shouted in a military tone and we replied in a mixture of languages with something that was supposed to mean 'yes'.

"Good!"

Satisfied, she went back to her usual place and continued:

"Your training will consist of theoretical lessons, primarily to learn the Roman language and culture, but also physical training."

A cynical smile flashed across her face.

"At the end of your training, when we instructors deem you ready, you will be sent to the most noble families in Rome and be of service there!"

I had no idea what 'services' were meant by this.

Then she looked at everyone in the row again.

"Three of you will always be led by an instructor, whose instructions must be followed strictly and without contradiction! Group one is led by Stella, group two by Domenica and group three by Antonia."

She paused and then she thundered with military sharpness and it sounded like dogs barking:

"Whoever does not follow, marches to the galley!"

That was the cue for about twice as many male slaves to rush over and take off our chains. The excess number was purely a safety measure, but in our case it was unnecessary, because everyone had understood that as slaves we hadn't done so badly here.

Personally, I suddenly felt a wonderful sense of freedom and was very happy to be here and to have survived.

"Your instructors will now take you to the bathhouse in groups so that we can make decent people out of you. Dismissed!"

That was the end of the roll call in the yard and Domenica, our instructor, led us into the bathhouse.

In the bathhouse

We were already naked for the bath, but we were still wearing the shoulder yoke so that our hands were tied.

Once in the bathhouse, Domenica took off her toga and hung it on a nail. I was speechless, my mouth was open and I got a dry throat:

Domenica was wearing a top made of fine black leather, her navel was exposed and around her loins she wore a strange leather apron with rivets and leather loops, the purpose of which was not entirely clear to me. It was held in place by a wide black leather belt from which hung strange instruments. I had never seen anything like it before. She had long dark hair and was very muscular. Her large breasts could barely be held up by the top. My gaze kept gliding up her long slender legs and stopped at the point where they joined at the magical 'Y'. I couldn't see it because the leather obscured the view, but my imagination conjured up a paradise on earth behind it.

Had I already fallen in love with her, right at the beginning?

Was it wise to have so many feelings in my situation? Yes, I'm an emotional man, I admit that, and the sight of her made my cock root tingle. Surely I would get a hard-on in a minute. But what could I do about my feelings?