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.
For earlier instalments please see author's archive
Marcus lent against the gunwale of the ship feeling the sun warm on his back. The scent of the pine trees from the surrounding forest was heavy in the hot Southern air. The bustle of the little harbour of Port Contre was hushed as it's population took their midday siesta. As soon as the town woke up again and they finished replenishing their supplies of water and food for the long haul across the bay of Biscay they would sail.
They had made London just in time to catch the ship before she slipped out of the port on the falling tide. The mud splashed slave boys with their legs and feet cut and bleeding from the road, their last reserves of energy being wrung from their exhausted bodies with the lash, had staggered onto the quay side as the mooring ropes were cast off. There was only time to tumble the boys and their burdens onto the deck of the ship and to hand the animals over to the care of Corax's London manager before the ship sailed.
After that the journey had been a leisurely one. The ship was a large cargo vessel. Deep hulled and primarily sail powered, although there were sweeps to manoeuvre her in port or coastal waters, her speed was determined by the direction and force of the winds. These since their departure from London had been favourable and light so they had had an easy journey of it. Now the ships crew, like the town, slept.
Marcus glanced behind him to where his father lay dozing on a mattress on the poop deck under an awning erected to shade him from the sun. Corax had accepted with equanimity, almost in fact with gladness, the slowing down of pace that the sea voyage had imposed on them. His father, he thought, was always more relaxed and at peace with himself at sea than when on land.
His eyes moved away from Corax to the place where Pisclus and Bestia squatted together in the shadow of the deck house. The week that the journey had so far consumed had made a great difference to their appearance. Rest and adequate food had filled out their bodies once again and given a healthy gloss to their skins. Their young flesh had soon healed and the marks of the whip faded. Denied all clothing the sun and wind had tanned their bodies Pisclus was now a deep nut brown while Bestia with his blonde hair was a lighter golden colour. Marcus was surprised at how quickly the two boys had recovered. He noticed that they were, even now, not sleeping but playing a simple game together, that appeared to hinge round guessing whether your opponent would put his hand out clenched or unclenched.
Indeed he had suggested to his father that the boys were having too easy a time. Corax had replied that there were at the moment, he would have thought, no more obedient little slaves in the whole Empire and that they had the means to bring them quickly to heel when the necessity arose. Indeed Marcus had to admit that once Pisclus had been cleaned up and given a chance to recover from the ordeal of the march to London he had been as attentive and as lively a boy as could be desired. That is not to say that he had not on occasion given the lad a cut or two with the cane across his tight little rump but that was more because he enjoyed making the boy squeal than any real need to correct him.
The thought of the rod cracking down across Pisclus's sweet bum excited him and he was just about to beckon the boy over when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement on the otherwise deserted quay side. He turned and saw a man approaching followed by a naked slave boy carrying a load on his back. Apart from this being the hour of the siesta there was nothing strange in this. Such sights were common enough and were usually only worth a second glance if the boy was an unusually attractive one. What was unusual was the colour, or more accurately the colours, of the boy's skin, for he was not white or brown or black but multi-coloured. Red, green, blue, yellow. orange, the lad's body seemed to be splashed with all the colours of the rainbow. Marcus had never seen anything like it before. He leaned forward to try to get a closer look but the two, the man and the brightly coloured boy, were now hidden from his view under the side of the ship. He heard the sound of a strange man's voice raised in enquiry and the skipper's rough voice replying.
A minute or two late there were sounds of footsteps on the companion way and the skipper himself appeared. Corax blinked his eyes open, raised his head and stared enquiringly at him.
"Excuse me Sir," the skipper spoke respectfully for Corax owned the ship. "There's a man here seeking a passage to Rome for himself and his boy. Would you have any objection if we gave them space? They'll sleep on deck so that they'll only disturb you during the day. The man appears to be a respectable sort of craftsman."
"I would prefer to describe myself, Sir, as an artist rather than a craftsman," a fresh voice spoke smooth and slightly oleaginous. Then the speaker appeared , standing beside the Captain, smiling and bowing deeply to Corax. "An artist whose canvass is human flesh. If I may have the honour of showing you and your delightful son," the man made a quick duck in Marcus's direction, "a sample of my humble skill Sir."
"Come up here boy." His voice suddenly lost all it's oily sweetness. "Quick now you useless little runt. Don't keep the Gentlemen waiting. Put your load down now so they can see the full glory of my work."
Marcus saw that the child's body was covered from head to toe in vividly coloured pictures, serpents, bulls, swans, fawns, centaurs and gods interspersed with naked women and boys writhed in garish profusion over his chest down his thighs and shins and even spread up to his cheeks and forehead.
"Allow me to introduce myself ,Sir," the man continued resuming his humble weedling tone. "Eumolpus, Sir, a tattooist of I think I may say some skill. A lowly art perhaps but an honourable one I belief and one that has the advantage of allowing me to exhibit a walking sample of my skills."
"Turn round boy," he reached his hand out towards the boy to turn him and Marcus noted how the lad cringed away from his touch. "There is a, particularly fine Ganymede being _f_u_c_k_ed by Zeus on his left buttock that I would like you to see. Observe how when he moves his bottom it appears as thought the two are actuallyin congress together."
"Remarkable," Corax said dryly. "there appears to me not to be a single part of his body that you have not decorated."
"True Sir, little remains for me now on which to exercise my skills. Between the toes and under the arches of his feet alone I think. Perhaps if you are kind enough to grant the good Captain permission to give me a passage to Rome I will fill some part of my idle hours in, as you so aptly put it, "decorating" these few remaining areas. Then when that work is completed the question will arise as to whether I should retain the boy as a sample or sell him as a work of art and obtain another to act as a canvass for my genius."
"The process must be a painful one for your canvases I should imagine," Corax said mildly.
"If one is to judge by his screams that must be so Sir. If the lad's cries while I am at work on him should disturb you you need only say so and I will desist immediately. On the other hand I see you have two handsome little slave boys over there and if you wish I would be glad to exercise my art on them."
"Father could I have a Ganymede and Zeus on Pisclus's bottom?" Marcus asked eagerly. "It would be great fun to watch the God _f_u_c_k_ing the boy every time he moves around."
"No you may not," Corax said firmly. "It may seem an attractive idea now but you would soon grow bored of it and you're going to school when you get to Rome and the teachers will not think much of a student whose personal slave has an invitation to _s_e_x_ual licence etched on his bum."
"I would be prepared to have some discrete work done on Bestia but I think before I accept your offer I would like to see you actually at work."
"Certainly Sir., certainly that is no problem," the man exclaimed. "Fetch my instrument case here straight away boy."
Marcus noticed that the lad's hands were trembling as he fumbled with the fastenings of the bundle that he had carried on his back and that tears were running down his face when he turned back towards his master, a small wooden case in his hand.
"Well get down on the floor on your back," the man ordered impatiently, taking the case from the boy.
Eumolpus kicked the boy's feet apart and sat down between his legs. He clamped the boy's right leg tight against his side with his arm and took a took a firm grip of his foot with his left hand.
The boy had begun to sob uncontrollably although the man had not even started his work.
"I will," Eumolpus continued addressing Corax, "tattoo a picture of a lizard's head peeping out between his big toe and his second toe. It will be green with a red tongue, a red crest and yellow eyes."
"I first mark out the pattern with chalk and then actually perform the tattooing colour by colour."
He sat for a moment drawing, his head bent over the boy's foot. Then he replaced the chalks in the box and took out a large wooden handled needle. The boy wailed in terror.
Spreading the boy's toes Eumolpus jabbed the needle sharply into the tender flesh exposed between them. The boy's wail rose into full bodied screams. His head rolled frantically to and froe and he drummed his hands on the deck. Oblivious to the noise and his victims agony the man continued methodically about his work.
"I believe in driving the needle well in to get depth and permanency of colour," he remarked raising his voice to make himself heard over the din.
Marcus excited by the noise stepped closer to the man and his writhing victim. He looked down at the boy's contorted face and heaving chest as he fought for breath to scream out his agony. Intrigued by the boy's suffering he dropped to his knees beside him and placing the palm of his hand on his chest felt the lad's heart's fevered pounding.
He became aware of laughter and voices about him. He looked around and saw a forest of strong dark legs and realised the ships crew had gathered to enjoy the fun. He stepped back. He caught Pisclus's eye. The boy seemed to know instinctively what was required of him. Perhaps he could see the bulge in the front of Marcus's tunic. In a single lithe movement of his naked body he got to his feet and moved quickly over to his master.
Marcus rested his hand on the boy's bare shoulder and swung him round so that he faced the stern of the ship. One of the crew made a lewd comment and the others laughed loudly. With a series of sharp open handed slaps on Pisclus's naked bum he sent the lad scuttling before him to the area behind the deck house where they were hidden from the crowd about the tattooist and his young victim.
A sharp slap on the back of Pisclus's head bent the boy forward. Catching hold of the taffrail to steady himself, Pisclus arched his back forcing his bottom upwards. Marcus ran his hands over the child's taught rump so invitingly presented to him. Pisclus wriggled appreciatively and Marcus marvelled at the way the lips of the lads anus parted and closed in response to his movements. He noticed that the rawness had completely gone although some fragments of scar tissue still remained.
Marcus sucked his thumb and then gently ran it's nail along the lips of the boy's anus. The sensation excited Pisclus still further who pushed his lovely bottom higher into the air. Seizing his opportunity Marcus jabbed the full length of his thumb into the boy in one sharp brutal movement. Pisclus cried out shrilly and then began to moan as Marcus worked his thumb inside him. Marcus reached round the younger boy with his left hand and fingered the child's tiny but stiff prick. Pisclus began to pump his rump up and down on Marcus's probing thumb driving himself nearer to orgasm.
Judging his moment Marcus stepped back. Pisclus whimpered rotating his hips in a desperate effort to persuade his master to resume his probing of his bum.
"Stay where you are tart," Marcus commanded.
Pisclus whimpered. Marcus smiled as he relished the sight of the boy, his bottom raised, wordlessly pleading to be used, a mere animal gripped by animal emotions.
Marcus stripped off, dropping his clothes on the deck. Shudders wracked Pisclus's body. He knew what Marcus was doing and what was to come. He was frightened but desperate for his young master's _c_o_c_k_. Marcus knew this and took pleasure in making him wait for it.
He rested his hand on the boy's bottom feeling the taught flesh quivering in excited anticipation. Taking hold of his own swollen prick he pressed it's tip against the lips of Pisclus's hole. The boy gasped and strained backwards trying to impale himself on Marcus's iron hard shaft. Marcus let the child wait a second or two longer and then in one single powerful thrust buried his _c_o_c_k_ to it's roots in the boy's bum. Pisclus's bare feet scrabbled on the wooden deck as he fought to keep his footing before the older boy's attack. So fierce was Marcus's assault that for an instant he was lifted bodily from the ground. Then Marcus drew back. Pisclus redoubled his grip on the ship's rail and braced himself in readiness for his master's renewed onslaught. Marcus began to methodically _f_u_c_k_ the boy driving his _c_o_c_k_ into his tight little bum with long hard regular thrusts. Pisclus already wild with passion responded enthusiastically panting and sweating as he rode the older boy's _c_o_c_k_. It hurt but the hurt itself was the most piercing ecstasy. Marcus increased the tempo of his thrusting. Pisclus screamed. He had been bought to the point where pain and pleasure merged into one. The Marcus shot his load deep inside the smaller boy's bottom.
Pisclus collapsed to his knees. For a moment he knelt, panting, supporting himself by hanging onto the ship's rail. Then he turned, pressed his face into Marcus's crutch and with quick eager flicks of his tongue set about cleaning the filth from that boy's now flaccid _c_o_c_k_.
Once he was satisfied that Pisclus had cleaned his _c_o_c_k_ properly Marcus put his clothes back on. As he walked back round the deck house he noticed that a dribble of semen was running down the inside of Pisclus's thigh. Well, what he had been doing to the boy was no secret.
Eumolpus was still busy exercising his art on his hapless slave. The miserable boy had long since screamed himself hoarse. Now only a low harsh whimper escaped from the lad's contorted foam flecked lips as the man, heedless of his victim's suffering, continued to ply the tattooing needle pausing every now and again to rub vivid green dye into the freshly punctured flesh. It was clear the boy had been exhausted by his suffering. His feet and hands no longer beat the deck in paroxysms of pain. He was by no means still but his movements were confined to convulsive twitches of his body and limbs and a strange, persistent rolling of his head.
Marcus could see his father standing among the crowd of grinning sailors, his face impassive. One of his hands rested on the back of Bestia's neck.
Marcus pushed his way over to them. When he got nearer he could see that the boy was terrified, he was trembling and crying softly to himself.
"Doesn't seem as though Bestia is looking forward to having Eumolpus decorating him," Marcus said amused at the sight of the wretched lad's misery.
"No," Corax replied squeezing his slave's slim neck painfully. "The brat doesn't know the meaning of gratitude."
"You will get Eumolpus to tattoo something on him Father?"
"Yes I think so. It would be an opportunity lost if I failed to so and he seems a competent enough work man. It will be a way of filling in some of our spare time during the voyage."
"Have you any idea what sort of thing you want done? Perhaps a Ganymede and Zeus?"
"No. I don't think so. Something more discrete but provocative. We may as well see what Eumolpus has to suggest."
"I've seen enough now thank you," Corax continued raising his voice. "I have made my mind up. I would like you to do some work on my boy here but would be glad of your advice."
"Excellent Sir, excellent. I am at your service of course Sir," Eumolpus said scrambling to his feet and wiping the blood from the tattooing needle with a piece of rag.
"This little tart here," Corax said indicating Bestia, "but I don't want anything too elaborate just some thing to give a talking point or a little zest to his appearance."
"I know exactly what you mean Sir. Let me see a nice honey blonde, so something dark and strong to contrast with that and a talking point ..." Eumolpus paused in though.
"I know Sir just the thing. A dark red rose centred on his hole with a dark green stalk running down his _c_o_c_k_, round the base of his balls and up his perineum and then along the cleft of his buttocks with a single leave peeping out at the top of his bottom. Very artistic and provocative Sir. When the boy is standing straight all that will be seen is the stalk at the front of the body and disappearing behind his balls and at the back the green leave appearing form the top of his bottom. It'll make everybody who sees it wonder what lies within that intriguing crack. When he bends forward the rose with the centre of the bud his delightful little hole will be fully visible, an entertaining conceit I would suggest. We could give added colour and interest to the stalk by giving it sharp thorns with drops of deep red blood falling from them."
"Well that sounds excellent. You are I can see a true artist. How long will that take and when will you start."
"I would prefer Sir to start tomorrow if I may. I will need first of all to draw the design on the boy. That is the truly creative part of the process and I would like to start it with a fresh mind. Once I begin, well, I have no doubt the brat will scream and throw himself about. I will after all be working on some of the most tender parts of his carcass. That takes it out of me. Say four, five days."
"So it will be completed before we make our landfall in Lisbon," suggested Corax.
"If that is what you want Sir, that is what will be done."