Corax stopped on his way across the inn yard to have a few words with the woman in the kitchen. Then rejoining Marcus he led him out into the street. Padding along on his bare feet behind Corax and his master Pisclus gazed about himself in amazement. Brought up in the country with no opportunity to travel, both because of his family's poverty and the imperial order of banishment, this was the first time in his life that he could remember being in any sort of town. The peddlers with their mules, the two legionaries in full uniform shouldering their way through the crowd, the auxiliary cavalry man his breast plate glistening in the sun as he clattered on his mount down the paved street, the traders crying their wares from the road side stalls, all were new to him. To Corax and Marcus, who had seen Rome and the great cities of the East, Colchester was a small provincial town, to Pisclus it was the most exciting thing he had seen in his young life.
Corax glanced back over his shoulder.
"That boy of yours," he remarked to Marcus, "is a disgrace. People pay a lot of attention to the appearance and conduct of a master's slaves. The boy himself is not bad looking but the rag that he is wearing makes it look as though he's a field slave rather than an attendant on a wealthy man's son. And then his behaviour. He's walking about with his head up in the air like a free boy on a sight seeing trip."
"I'm sorry Father," Marcus replied. "I'll speak to him."
"Speak to him." Corax laughed. "Anyway here's a place where we can at least do something about his clothes."
They had stopped beside a stall selling cheap garments. The proprietor came hurrying up to them rubbing his hands, sensing a profitable sale.
"I want something a bit more appropriate for my son's slave than the bit of sacking he is wearing," Corax announced.
"Yes Sir. Certainly Sir. I am sure we will find something suitable Sir. Such a pretty little fellow," the man said eyeing Pisclus up and down, "a pity to spoil his appearance with a shabby old tunic like that. How about this Sir. Fine cloth, worn over one shoulder and gathered at the waist with a broach, fancy embroidery of phalluses and rose buds round the borders, ideal for a pretty, lively young slave boy like the one you've got there Sir."
"Well we'll try it on him," Corax said. "Come on boy strip now. Quick. What do you think you're doing there standing as if this had nothing to do with you."
Obediently Pisclus pulled off his old tunic and stood there naked on the edge of the street as people bustled past. The man summoned a youth from out of the recesses of the stall who looped the length of cloth over the boy's left shoulder, took it down to his right hip and then round his waist before fastening the ends together with a large circular broach on his right side. The man spoke as he fussed about adjusting the cloth.
"It will fall just right Sir. You will see. Just long enough to cover that tight little bum when he's standing upright. There you are Sir. What do you think Sir."
He stood back so that Corax could inspect the child and continued talking.
"The boy's a new acquisition I take it Sir. Our country boys are pretty enough but a bit wild. Well it's not so long ago that this place was outside the Empire. Just marsh and forest so its' natural I suppose they're that way. Nothing that a sound whipping or two will not set right mind you. A couple of good floggings and that boy will be as attentive and willing little fellow as you could wish for. He just needs curbing like all boys of his sort that's all. We've got a selection of whips if you want Sir, very reasonably priced, which I would be glad to show you."
Corax smiled bleakly at the man but spoke to Pisclus.
"Now boy your dressed more appropriately let's see you behave better too. Keep your eyes on your Master boy. Don't wander about flat footed gawking at everything. Try to remember you're here to serve your betters or Marcus'll have to give you another taste of the strap."
"It is difficult Sir to train these boys I know," the stall holder said sympathetically. "Why the time I had with Janus here before he was any real use to me. My arm would ache with tiredness after flogging him sometimes. Day after day, the boy screaming, wife complaining of the noise and apparently getting no where. Then one day after I'd thrown a bucket of water over him to bring him round he opened his eyes and I knew from the look in then that he was broken and he's been as good as gold since. It takes time but it will come. It's just a question of perseverance. Though I have a way to get him up on the balls of his feet if you want me to use it."
" I'd be glad if you would provided it doesn't mark him permanently."
"No, no, I just singe his heels with a hot iron so they're tender. The marks go in a day or two and if he hasn't learnt his lesson by then you just repeat the process. Mind you, in general, once is enough."
"Excellent idea," Corax said.
"Very well Sir. I'll just take the boy into the blacksmiths next door. Janus come along with me. I'll need you to hold the child's legs. Come along boy."
The man took hold of Pisclus by the arm and lead him towards a shed next to his stall. The boy not knowing exactly what was going to be done to him but certain that it would be nasty glanced over his shoulder appealingly at Marcus but the youth returned his gaze blankly.
The blacksmiths shop was a noisy dark building. The only light came from the open door onto the street and the glow of the hot coals in the fire at the it's opposite end. The blacksmith himself, a huge man, stripped to the waste was hammering a red hot bar into shape on an anvil next to the fire. An assistant, also half naked and well muscled, held the iron bar in place with a long handled pare of pincers while a naked boy, not much older than Pisclus himself, toiled at the bellows.
The smith sensing the presence of stranger stopped his hammering and turned to the door.
"Just come to burn this brats heels for his master," the man explained.
Ah. All right then there are hot irons in the fire. Help yourself," the Smith replied indifferently and returned to his work.
The man marched Pisclus over to a work bench that ran the length of one wall. He told the boy to stand facing the wall and to take a firm grip of the top of the bench. Looking back Pisclus saw him walk over to the fire and draw from it an iron bar whose end glowed dull red with heat. Janus knelt on the floor behind Pisclus. At a word from the man he took a firm grip of the boy's right leg just above the ankle and lifted his foot from the ground.
"Hold him firmly now," the man commanded and ran the glow bar briefly across the boy's heel. Pisclus screamed shrilly at the searing pain. Janus released his leg.
"Now the other foot," the stall keeper said returning to the fire for a freshly heated bar.
Pisclus turned and darted for the open door. The black smith, with surprising speed for so large a man, moved to block his way.
"Please..... No please ......Please Sir.....," Pisclus blubbed.
"Go back to the bench boy or do you want me to tell your master you've been disobedient?" The smith spoke evenly and quietly.
"Please Sir...Please...," Pisclus pleaded and then seeing no sign of pity in the man's face turned and hobbled whimpering back to the bench.
A couple of seconds later he shrieked again as the hot iron was applied to his other heel.
When they returned to the stall Corax was examining a tray of cheap trinkets. He held one up. It was an anklet in the form of a thin silver chain with a three or four small bells attached to it.
"I'll have this one," he said. "Have your boy lock it round the brat's right ankle."
After Corax had paid the stall owner they continued on their way to the baths. Pisclus no longer gazed around. He walked with his head bowed his eyes fixed on his masters back happy to avoid the eyes of passers by. Walking on the balls of his feet forced him to exaggerate the jut of his bottom and to slightly swing his hips. The tinkle of the bells on his anklet, the feel of the brief tunic with it's obscene border brushing against the side of his bare thighs filled him with shame. It wasn't that he begrudged Marcus anything that he could give or yield to him but he still had enough spirit left in him to wish that his availability was not made so publicly obvious.
Corax on the other hand was pleased. No imperial spy would ever recognise in the little boy tart with his mincing walk and minimal clothing the son of an ancient patrician family. It amused him too to see the misery of the boy as he experienced in his turn the humiliations that Corax himself had known in his early years as his grandfather's pet.
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Bestia screams subsided into a low whimpering. The livid stripes which scored his chest and stomach burnt fiercely. The pain from where the rope had torn the skin of his wrists was hardly less intense. His arms which supported the whole weight of his body and his shoulders ached horribly. He felt as every second passed that he could no longer bear the agony of his suffering and yet that suffering continued and grew.
There were foot steps on the stairs. A sturdily built young slave woman came into the room. She said nothing but crossed to the wall where Bestia a hung suspended from a hook by the cord about his wrists his wrists. With a grunt of effort she lifted him down.
.Bestia staggered as his feet touched the floor. The room whirled round him and he sank to his knees on the floor. The woman prodded him impatiently in the bottom with her bare foot.
"Don't make such a fuss," she said brusquely. "You'll have to stay on your feet working after much worse beatings than the little tickling you've just received I'm sure. Anyway if you think I've got time or energy to spare to carry idle little slave brats about you're mistaken. You get down to the yard now while I clean this room up........ I see you've peed on the floor too you filthy little animal. Get out of here now before I make you lick your own filth up."
Painfully Bestia dragged himself to his feet and made his way unsteadily down the staircase. The fat woman was sitting on a straight backed chair in the sun by her kitchen door. She beckoned Bestia to her. The naked boy, his rib cage scored with welts from his beating , stumbled across the yard towards her. Vaguely Bestia noticed the tray that lay on top of the low table that stood beside her. On it stood various jars, a steaming bowl of warm water, a bundle of rags, a small knife and an open ended metal cone together with various other objects whose purposes he did not know.
"You poor child," the woman crooned patting her plump apron covered knees, " come to Auntie Vacca. (Latin for cow - clearly with such a name the woman was an ex-slave.) Lets see what that master of yours has done to you my darling."
Vacca reached out to Bastia drawing the boy down onto her lap. It was the first time that anyone had shown any affection or concern for Bestia since he had been sold to Corax. Gratefully he settled on the woman's lap nestling tight up against her large soft breasts.
"Such nasty bruises," the woman continued softly touching the stripes that disfigured the boys chest. "Auntie Vacca has something here to take the pain away and make the bruises fade so that you will look all nice and fresh for your master when he comes home."
As she spoke the woman gently massaged a soothing cream into the boys tortured flesh. Bestia did not really listen to what the woman was saying but lulled by the tone of her voice he relaxed against her letting his head rest on her shoulder. He was carried back a long time, to when, before poverty and the labour of raising a large family had soured her, his mother had shown him affection and had take him on her knee and cuddled him. A thumb strayed into his mouth.
He was brought back to the present by Vacca gently pulling the lobe of his ear.
"Wake up lovely," she murmured. "If I know my Corax and I've known him a very long time. That's not the only place he hurt you last night.. Is it my little love?"
"No Miss...He hurt me in my bottom Miss. He put his _c_o_c_k_ right into me. It hurt a lot Miss." Somehow Bastia felt no embarrassment in telling the woman what had been done to him.
"The same old Corax and it would hurt. He's a big is our Corax. I know that well."
"Now let's see what we can do to make that sweet little bottom of yours hurt a little less. You just get off my lap for a moment and lie down over my knees so that I can see how bad it is."
Obediently Bastia stretched himself across the woman's lap. His feet resting on the ground on one side of her, his head almost level with her ankles on the other. The woman guided him down so that his bottom lay squarely across her lap elevated ready for inspection. Two guests at the inn who happened to be passing by paused to watch, a couple of boys crept out from the kitchen. A small crowd began to form around the woman with the beautiful naked boy upturned across her knees.
For a moment Vacca gently stroked the cheeks of the boy's rump enjoying their rounded firmness. Bastia wriggled appreciatively. The feel of the woman's hand on his bottom was so reassuring and calming although at the same time he felt a pleasant stirring in his crutch.
"The first thing I've got to do is to see how bad the hurt is. So push your bum up as high as you can and spread your legs for me my love."
Obediently Bastia opened his bottom to the woman.
"Now you lot stand back. I can't see what I'm doing if you crowd me too much," the woman adjured the group of spectators who had pressed close about her chair to enjoy the sight of the lad's deliciously exposed rump.
"Not too bad," she said turning her attention back to Bastia. "Now try to relax my lovely."
The boy tensed involuntarily as he felt the light touch of the woman's fingers spreading something along the lips of his anus. The sensation was pleasant and he quickly relaxed. Then the pressure of the woman's fingers increased as she began to work them into him. He tensed again and then his bottom opened of itself to let the fingers in before clamping tight about them not to resist their probing but to draw them deeper into himself. Bestia felt himself harden, He knew that he was about to come over the woman's lap. He tried to stammer out a warning but could not manage to speak as panting he rode the woman's fingers.
"That's all right sweet heart," the woman said seeing his distress. "Why you are a lively one. You'll give Corax value for money I'm sure. Just let it come my joy. Why do you think Auntie's wearing an apron?"
The woman sat watching the boys bottom writhing in excitement on her lap a soft smile on her lips as the audience of men and boys laughed and made ribald comments. Then Bestia's rump gave one final heave before subsiding into a tensed quivering stillness. At last the boy's muscles relaxed their hold on Vacca's fingers and she gently withdrew them from his bottom. Bestia moaned quietly.
"It could be much worse," the woman remarked gently patting the panting boy's bare rump. "I won't have to try any stitching. Just a little of Auntie's ointment to take the soreness away but first we've got to clean you up."
A second later Bestia felt a cool hard object being pushed into his bottom. Then his rectum was flooded with warm water. It was quite pleasant at first but as more and more water was forced into him the pressure increased.
"There," the woman said at last, "up you get and try to keep that in you until Auntie's counted to five hundred."
Bestia scrambled to his feet. He clamped his bottom as tight as he could to try to contain the pressure within him. He looked wide eyed at the seated woman who was just placing on the tray beside her a long empty canvas tube with a small brass nozzle at one end.
"....eighteen, nineteen, twenty...," the woman counted.
Cramps were beginning in Bestia's tummy. He clapped his hands tight against the cleft of his bottom. He didn't think he could possibly keep the liquid in himself much longer.
".....fifty one, fifty two, fifty three...," the audience of men and boys were counting with the woman now.
Vacca looked into the boy's face and judged he could hold it no longer.
"All right," she said, "get over to the gutter and empty yourself now."
Thankfully Bestia turned and made a rush towards the centre of the yard through which the gutter ran. One of the inn guests laughing deliberately blocked his way. The distressed boy tried to dodge past him but it was to late. Bestia began to cry as the crowd laughed at his humiliation.
"Now my darling, that's not your fault," the woman called to him. "You come back here and Auntie'll clean you up and put some ointment on that poor sore bottom of yours."
"One of you idle little slave brats go and get a couple of buckets of hot water from the kitchen and sluice the mess away," she continued.
"As for you," she said addressing the laughing man, "you can do what you like to your own slaves that's your right but this boy is not yours but Corax's. Do you want me to mention your joke to him?"
The man stopped laughing abruptly.
Bestia returned to his position face down over Vacca's lap. She wiped his bottom clean and then spread ointment around his anus. Suddenly he howled as with out any warning a long hard object was thrust into him stretching his sphincter to the limit.
"That's to stay in all day," the woman said firmly. "I know it hurts but it will make things easier for you in the future. If you want it out for any reason you ask me. Is that understood sweet."
"Yes Miss. All right Miss," Bestia mumbled. In fact after the first shock following the plugs insertion it did not feel so very painful.
"Good boy. Now sit back on my knees.
"One of you men like to hold his hands behind his back for me? Not you" she said sharply to the man who had blocked Bestia's rush to the gutter. "Yes you'll do."
The chosen man stepped forward with a grin on his face and taking a firm hold of the boy's wrists pulled them behind his back.
"Legs wide apart now," Vacca ordered.
She put one arm round Bestia's waste and began to finger his tiny penis. Following his orgasm it's pink head had disappeared within his foreskin.
She reached her free hand towards the table that stood beside her. Before Bestia's horrified gaze she touched a small wooden handled knife whose blade obviously honed to a fine edge glittered in the sun light.
"Miss.....No ... Miss ...Please... No.... Miss....MISS" Bestia screamed in terror fighting in vain against the man's grip on his wrists as the crowd of men and boys laughed and hooted.
"It's not as bad as that," Vacca said reassuringly. "It will hurt but your master wants it done so done it must be."
She put the knife between her teeth. Picking up the bronze cone she slipped it over Bestia's penis and drew his foreskin down over it. Holding the foreskin in place with her left hand she took the knife in her right and quickly drew it round the cone. Bestia howled as the blade sliced through his foreskin. She picked up a rag from the table and held it against the boy's crotch to stem the flow of blood.
"You can let his hands go now," she said.
"Now my brave boy you hold that rag in place while I get some powder to help the bleeding stop."
Afterwards she held the boy on her knee for fifteen minutes or so cuddling him and talking gently to him, stroking his hair , kissing his cheek, telling him how good he was, how brave and how pretty until his sobbing ceased and he was calm. Then she seated him on the ground just outside the kitchen door. She fastened a leg iron round his ankle securing him there and left him holding a blood soaked rag to his crotch.
After a little time a boy from the kitchen brought Bestia a bowl of warm milk sweetened with honey.
(to be continued -)
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