Yes.

With a groan, you explode in Betua's mouth, pumping your cock into the back of her throat. Now Betua does move, struggling slightly, but you keep her head firmly in place with your hands. After a few seconds, you release her, and she jerks off of your cock, coughing as a mixture of semen, saliva, and tears run down her face. You wipe your cock off on an already dirtied tablecloth and smile at her ravaged face. "That will be all, Betua. Go on and prepare me a breakfast of...well, whatever we have left over, I suppose." Still panting, she gets slowly to her feet and moves to do so, head bowed.

You cross to the balcony and pull back the curtain, stepping out onto the roof of your home's first story. Below you, Rome is already abuzz. Your home stands on the slopes of one the Quirinal Hill; not in the center of town by any means, but it's still a part of the old city. You idly splash some water on your face from a jug nearby to clear your eyes, and consider the day before you. As a nobleman, even a minor one, in your majority, you don't have many urgent duties pressing on you; your family fortune is enough to sustain your day-to-day living, even if you would like to have more coin for lavish expenses, like your birthday party. But you're a young man of ambition, and in your heart you hope to climb to the very top of Rome's social order.

The question is...where to begin that step.