This story contains scenes involving the _s_e_x_ual and physical abuse of young boys by adults. I f you do not like such stories do not read this.
I would be glad to receive any comments or suggestions. Please send these to me zelamir@hotmail. com. The only comments I will ignore are those that tell me they do not like the story because it contains descriptions of _s_e_x_ual and physical abuse of boys by adults. That is what this story does contain. You have been warned.
Earlier instalments of this story can be found in the authors archive in MMSA Stories:
A Roman Holiday Part 17
Marcus paused half way up the flight of marble steps outside his father's Roman mansion. The great bulk of the building behind him casting a welcome shadow shielding him from the heat and glare of the sun. Grooms had run out as soon as he and his father had arrived to take from them their mounts which had been waiting for them at the quay side at Ostia.
They were watching the cart that had brought their luggage up from the port. Bestia and Pisclus who had ridden on it's back were helping unload it. For the first time since they had sailed from Britain the two boys were not naked. Not that they had taken kindly to the news that they would have to wear clothes again. They knew better than to express their views openly but it had been clear from the expressions of dismay on their faces when the tunics had been handed to them. Marcus was fairly certain he had heard Pisclus muttering to himself that he didn't see that there was anything wrong with his body that he needed to hide it. Not Marcus thought, as he watched the boy reach up to take a small chest from the slave unloading the cart and his brief white tunic rose clear of his otherwise bare bum, that the clothes hid very much anyway.
Glancing back down the street Marcus could see a light four wheel carriage approaching drawn by a pair of high spirited geldings their black coats glistening in the sunlight. A smart looking groom checked the horses at the foot of the steps and a handsome slave boy jumped from the seat beside him to hold the reigns. A tall hawk faced man wearing a white toga with a broad purple stripe stepped out of the carriage and began to climb the steps. The man approached Marcus's father and bowed stiffly.
"You are I think the merchant Corax?" he said. There was no suggestion of mockery or deference or indeed arrogance. He spoke just as one very powerful man would speak to another. He described Corax as "the merchant" simply because that was what the man was, just as he himself was one of the most powerful members of the most powerful institution under the Emperor in Rome, or the lands controlled by Rome.
Corax bowed his acknowledgement.
"I am Cassius Longinus Cornelius. I believe you were kind enough to give a young kinsman of mine a passage from. Britain. I have come to thank you and to collect him."
Horrified Marcus saw that Pisclus was coming up the steps towards them the casket balanced on one shoulder, a broad grin on his face and his tunic rooked high so that his prick and balls , squeezed into provocative prominence by his _c_o_c_k_ ring, were visible to all.
"Yes indeed," Corax replied easily further alarming his son, "but you will know there were certain political difficulties in Britain that seemed to make it necessary to keep his journey secret. He is coming up from Ostia separately and should be here within the half hour. If you would care to wait in my study. I will bring him to you as soon as he arrives. I am afraid I cannot attend on you until then but, as you can imagine, I have certain pressing matters of business to attend to."
"Of course. Of course, and the fact of those political difficulties make our famillies indebtedness to you all the greater. Though now the boy is here I do not think there will be a lasting problem. The complications arose more between that poor foolish man my brother and the authorities in Britain than anywhere else."
By now Pisclus had reached the same level on the steps as the two men. Cassius glanced towards the boy.
"A pretty child," he remarked idly.
"Yes indeed," Corax replied easily. "I bought him in Britain as a present for my son."
"Come here boy," he suddenly shouted and Pisclus trotted over to him.
"Marcus my son had a great deal of fun with him on the voyage ," he took Pisclus's chin in his hand and tipped his face up so that the Senator could see it clearly. " As he did indeed with your nephew. Still these long sea voyages are boring and the young people must amuse themselves some how I suppose."
"And older ones as well I would imagine," Cassius remarked dryly.
"No doubt Senator. Now I must get on with things. I will send my secretary to you to show you to the library. Tell him I said that you are to see the document I bought the other day - an old poem on the early history of Rome - an account of the struggle between Lars Porsena and the ancient republic."
"Marcus come on now. We have plenty to do." He strode up the stairs into the house.
"Pisclus," he shouted as soon as they were inside the portico and safely away from Cassius Cornelius. "Put that case down and come with me we have to prepare you for your new home."
The boy who was standing just inside the doorway waiting for instructions turned to face him. Then dropping the casket on the floor he darted forward. For a moment Marcus thought he was running to him but he dodged past and threw his arms around Bestia's waste, hugging him tightly, his head pressed against the bigger boy's chest. Then he stepped back and suddenly produced three small copper coins that he thrust at his friend. Marcus was never able to work out how the boy had managed to either obtain these or to carry them about with him but they clearly represented the sum total of his possessions in this world.
"You," Corax shouted at Bestia, "Get back to Ostia now and get the rest of our luggage up here."
Bestia took the copper coins in his hand and ran back down the steps. As he went tears flowed down his face. Pisclus was his only friend and now they were to be parted.
"We're to go back to Ostia for the rest of the luggage," Bestia told the carter.
"But we've got everything here," the man said.
"Well that's what I was told to do," replied Bestia.
The carter grinned and giving a hand to Bestia hauled him up beside him. He shouted to the horse and they moved slowly off. He had no objection to spending a few hours on a pointless journey with a pretty young boy. He ran his hand up the inside of Bestia's thigh and the lad moved closer to him. They didn't even need to go to Ostia the carter thought. Just park the cart somewhere and spend a few hours having fun.
Corax having successfully got rid of Bestia hustled Pisclus through his study into an even more private cabinet beyond it.
"You're going to let him go?" Marcus asked his unhappiness showing in his voice.
"Yes. I gave my word."
"But why did you say I could keep him if you intended to let him go all along?" Marcus was only partly mollified.
"Because that was the only way the pair of you would put on a convincing performance. Other wise you were sure to give yourself away. Especially with Falco on the trail. Now come on we've only got about half an hour . You go down to the porters lodge and get a file and wire cutters. I'll go and get shoes and clothes from Lucius's room. They should be about the right size. Gaius you stay here out of sight."
Marcus noted that his father had already stopped using Gaius's slave name.
The slave collar was loose and it was easy to slip a blade of the wire cutters between it and the boys neck. It came away leaving a white mark on the boy's otherwise tanned skin.
"You'll have to give Gaius one of your old silver chains to explain that," Corax remarked.
"But won't his uncle recognise him anyway Father?" Marcus asked. "He had a good look at him out side on the steps. You even held his face up for him to look at."
"It's just the same as with Falco. He'll think there's a sort of resemblance but then he'll dismiss the thought because he'll be sure I wouldn't have invited him to have a good look at the boy if it had really been his nephew."
Corax spoke indistinctly because he was on his knees trying to remove the _c_o_c_k_ ring. This presented problems. He had begun by trying to force one of the boy's balls back through the ring but it seemed to have swollen somewhat and he stopped after one shrill scream from the child. It wouldn't, as he remarked, have mattered if he had been just a slave boy but he did not want to be responsible for castrating the nephew of a senator. Now he was working on the ring with the file but it was not easy. Eventually he was able to break the ring and bend the metal back. An angry red mark ran round the boy's scrotum and the base of his _c_o_c_k_.
"That must have been sore," Marcus said wondering how the boy had borne the pain.
"It was a bit Sir." the child replied.
"You mustn't call Marcus "Sir" now," Corax said firmly. "You're not his slave any longer you're the nephew of Cassius Longinus Cornelius one of the most powerful men in Rome after the Emperor. And you must not forget it."
"I don't want to be Gaius," the boy burst out. "I don't want to be the nephew of anybody. You made me Marcus's boy and then you say I'm not any longer. Nobody thinks what it's like for me. I want to stay with Marcus...please...I want to be Pisclus and be his boy."
"But I was cruel to you and beat you and made you cry often," Marcus protested. It was beyond him how anybody could choose to be a slave.
"I know," wailed Gaius, " but I want to stay with you...." and he added hopefully, "perhaps if you let me you'd be a kinder Master?"
"You are Gaius," Corax said firmly, "that's quite enough of that nonsense. I don't want to hear any more about it. Perhaps Marcus can come over and visit you in your new home and then when you are alone together you can play at being master and slave boy again."
"It won't be a game," Gaius said rebelliously. "It'll be real."
"Have it your own way," Corax said placidly. "Now I'm just going to put some ointment on that sore place and then we'll get you dressed. And don't you let that new Uncle of yours start playing around with you for a week or so until the soreness goes either."
A moment or so later Gaius was ready to meet his uncle a broad silver chain glinted round his neck, an almost new cotton tunic dyed a rich blue hanging to his knees.
"His walk will give him away Father," Marcus protested. "Look he's up on the balls of his feet all the time."
"Sandals will cure him of that." Corax said producing a pair. "Now put these on Gauis. There you are, a typical young boy of the patrician class. How does it feel?"
"Funny," Gaius said uncertainly. "It's the first time since I've had anything on my feet since you took me from home or round my bottom either. It feels strange." He pulled up his tunic to look at the loin cloth that covered his crutch wonderingly.
"Come on," Corax said laughing good humouredly. "You'll get used to it. It's time I introduced you to your uncle."
"Marcus you will come and see me soon won't you?" Gaius asked anxiously.
"Of course I will."
"And... and you won't be too cruel to me will you?"
"Well that depends on how good a little slave you are," Marcus replied with a grin and clipped the other boy none too gently on the back of the head.
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Marcus came into the dining room and placed the model boat carefully on a table. The only other people present were his father and his Greek secretary. Corax was eating breakfast while the secretary read correspondence to him.
A slave brought Marcus a bowl of porridge and he settled down to eat. Every now and again he would glance up at the boat. It was a model of a trireme, exact in every detail, almost two foot long with a fierce bronze covered beak, the oars- men bending to the oars, a drummer beating out the rhythm of the strokes, archers ranked on the deck ready to unleash their arrows. It had been exact in every detail but a degree of wear and tare had left a couple of oars broken and three or four of the archers with out heads. It had been a present from his father and Marcus was still very fond of it but he felt that now he was approaching his thirteenth birthday it was really rather too childish for him to play with. It was his intention to give it to Gaius. He had seen a great deal of the boy since he had gone to live with his uncle.
Scarcely two days went past without the two boys meeting. When other people were around the two were rather shy and uneasy with each other but once they were safely alone their inhibitions would vanish. Gauis would quickly kick off his sandals, shed his clothes, and become again the little slave boy Pisclus, and Marcus would enjoy his services and his body as in the past. There were limits now as to how harshly he could treat the boy. He could not mark his face or his legs below the point where his tunic fell but he had whipped the child's bottom hard and often for faults real or pretended, scoring fierce scarlet weals across it's smooth surface and ringing real tears of pain from the boy's eyes.
Marcus regarded Gaius with a sort of contemptuous affection. However cruelly he beat the boy, however brutally he raped him, the lad would accept it and return for more. The boy seemed when they were alone to be without pride or modesty and yet Marcus felt a fondness for the boy. He wanted to keep him, to tell him somehow that despite his harshness to him he cared for him. That was why he was going to give him his model trireme.
Suddenly Corax's voice was raised in anger.
"Read that again," he demanded of his secretary.
"It is part of a report from your London agent Sir," the man said nervously. "He requests instructions with regard to a complaint made by an inn keeper in Colchester, a woman called Vacca. Apparently she is seeking compensation for a groom who she claims was murdered by a slave or slaves of yours and for some hay that was spoilt as a consequence of it being used to hide the corpse. Your agent says that he doubts if this latter claim could be sustained to any large extent. However rotten the corpse he believes only the hay directly in contact with it would be irretrievably spoilt. He has made enquiries about the groom, he was a slave but unfortunately, although he was dirty and bad tempered, he was very good with horses and mules and had a good reputation for that, but only that, locally. The woman is claiming compensation of 500 denarius. Your agent considers this excessive and thinks he can easily effect a settlement for half this sum. He would not have involved you with this trivial matter but the woman is insisting she receives your personal assurance that the culprits will be identified and punished."
"Tell him to pay the bitch all that she demands and to give her the assurance she asks for. Now go and send the slave boy Bestia to me," Corax snapped.
"But Sir you are about to pay out 500 denarii when you could easily settle for half that sum."
"Just do as I say. Go."
The man scuttled out and Corax sat breathing deeply. Marcus who had seen him, although not often, in this sort of mood before sat very still.
There was the quick pad of bare feet running. Bestia burst into the room and threw himself at Corax's feet. He bent forward to kiss his feet, his tiny tunic riding clear of his bum. He didn't know what was wrong but the secretary had made clear that he was in desperate trouble. Corax deliberately allowed the silence to drag out. Bestai hunkered back on his heels and, trembling, looked up into the man's hard face.
"Why cunt did you kill the groom at Colchester ," Corax eventually demanded in an ice cold voice, giving the boy little hope that denial, if he had a mind to try it, would safe him.
"He wanted to rape me Sir," Bestia mumbled nervously.
"And do you know how much that little escapade of yours is going to cost me?"
"N..n..no Sir."
"500 denarii, 500 denarii. Do you think you're arse is worth 500 denarii?"
Bestia said nothing but knelt there sobbing quietly. Corax paused for a moment waiting for a reply but when none came continued.
"No it's not worth it. You're whole carcass is not worth it let alone your bum. I could buy 10 of you for that you useless lump of _s_h_i_t_. I'll show you what you're worth and that's precisely nothing."
Bending down Corax grabbed hold of the hapless boy by his slave collar and dragged him choking from the room.
"Come with me Marcus," he called over his shoulder. "You can help me with this. You will enjoy it....And get your boot up this brat's arse I haven't got all day."
They made their way to the back of the villa. The corridors became progressively narrower and darker as they left the state and family rooms and penetrated into the slave quarters. Eventually they came out into a small courtyard. Here there were no colonnades, fountains of clear tinkling water, green lawns and massive vases filled with flowers, just blank walls and a sandy floor baking in the hot sun. In the centre stood two poles about seven feet high with a cross bar running between them.
Bestia saw these and began to scream. He tried to resist, digging his heels into the soft sand, but Corax hauled him bodily forward and then hurled him to the ground under the cross beam.
Marcus felt his chest tighten with excitement. He had been brought him here once or twice in the past as a treat when a slave was being flogged and he knew what was to come.
Corax gave a shout and a large brutal looking man hurried into the yard carrying a length of rope. Working quickly he secured Bestia's arms in front of him. He threw the loose end of the rope over the cross bar and hauled the child up so that he swung suspended by his wrists, his toes just clear of the ground. He reached up and with one sharp jerk ripped Bestia's flimsy tunic from his back. Three small copper coins fell from it and landed on the loose sand. Marcus felt excitement rise within him as he waited for the moment when the lash would begin to flay the skin from the boys taught young body. He knew that one well delivered cut of the heavy whip would split the lad's skin and make the blood flow down his slim shoulders.
Meanwhile preparations for the flogging proceeded with all due deliberation, for this was not something that could or should be hurried. The man went back into the villa and returned with two leather buckets filled with water. Then he brought out two whips which he offered to Corax.
Marcus watched as his father made his choice, weighing the whips in his hand, the plaited leather lashes, dark and sinuous like venomous snakes, curled in the sand ready to strike and rend. All the time Bestia hung naked from his wrists waiting for the moment when the whip would rip into his tender flesh.
Marcus was a little disappointed to see Corax choose the lighter of the two whips. Still, he consoled himself this could mean the punishment would be longer rather than less severe. He was not to be disappointed.
.