This story contains descriptions of the physical and _s_e_x_ual abuse of young boys. If you do not enjoy such stories do not read it. If you wish to comment write to me zelamir@hotmail. com. The only messages I will ignore are those complaining that the story contains descriptions of the abuse of young boys. That is what this story is about.
From midmorning onwards the farm yard was noisy with the bleating of goats and the shrill cry of boys as the herds came down from the highland.
Shortly after mid day Crastinus reappeared leading his horse from which hung the carcasses of two mountain lions. The boys gathered round chattering excitedly until he drove them back to their work with cuts from his belt across their bare lags.
"Well," he said gruffly as he stomped past Marcus scrubbing the flagstones of the low terrace that surrounded the farm house, a task set the him by Olivia to keep him out of mischief until his feet healed sufficiently o allow him to be sent to work in the yard and fields with the rest of the boys, "you spoke the truth so this time at least you won't be feeling my belt across your arse."
Marcus grinned quickly up at him but did not pause in his work. He had been told what to expect if he was caught taking it easy.
"It wouldn't," Crastinus said as he spooned hot soup into his mouth, "have disgraced the old tenth legion. Fight a battle then march fifteen miles through deep snow with the wounded and come out right in the end. Mind you I remember once in Upper Pannonia we had to ...."
Olivia who was sitting alone with her husband in the front room ceased to listen while he prosed on. She had heard this particular story so often, as she had most of her husbands other stories, that she could judge to the second when it would wind it's way to it's rather tedious conclusion.
"Yes dear," she eventually said after Crastinus had reached the point where the senior centurion had congratulated him and his company on their endurance and fighting qualities and admitted that he had been wrong and Crastinus had been right in judging the ability of such fine a body of men to under take successfully so arduous a service, "but don't go making favourites of them will you. You know the sort of problems that would cause and though they're good boys they are just slaves and they mustn't be allowed to forget it. It wouldn't even be fair on them. We haven't the money to buy their freedom let alone to provide them with any sort of future as free boys. They're slaves and that's the end of it."
"Yes, yes," said Crastinus impatiently, "I know that's right. Don't worry about that. I know how important discipline is why..." And off he went again.
--------
After two days Marcus's feet were sufficiently heeled for him to be sent to work and live with the other boys. Five days later Musca joined him. His side had healed but ugly scars down one side of his chest showed where the mountain lion had savaged him. Shortly afterwards Olivia left to visit her sister in Rome.
The life of the boys at the farm was hard but not as hard as on the mountain. They were always hungry and often cold but they were used to that. They had to mount a continuous watch on the herds of goats but as these were now confined in fields about the farm they were split into teams of four by Crastinus and undertook this duty in turns. It was neither so lonely for them as on the mountain nor was it so frightening as they had orders to alert the men should the wolves get close. Other wise they were kept busy during the short day in various tasks about the farm some invented to keep them busy others necessary such as, clearing snow from the yard and lanes, carrying water and fodder. At night those who were not herding the goats were housed in a shed where there was plenty of clean store on which to lie and where they kept each other warm.
Marcus was carrying two pales of goat's milk from the dairy to the farm, when passing the open door of one of the outbuildings, he heard a low whistle. Looking round to make sure Crastinus or one of the man was not watching he pushed his head though the doorway. Musca was standing in the gloom a basket in his hand and a big grin on his face.
"Put those pales down and come in here," he said in a whisper.
"Look," he held out the basket to Marcus. It was full of eggs. "I got twenty two yesterday for them but today I found where that old brown hen has been laying and I've got twenty six. They won't know that there's so many so there's two each for us if we're quick."
Marcus slipped the yoke from over his shoulders and abandoning the buckets of goat's milk joined his friend in the shed. It was sheer bad luck that one of the farm dogs should at that moment have crossed the yard and seeing the buckets unattended on the ground decided to help himself. It was even worse luck that Crastinus, stepping out of the farm house, should have spotted the animal with it's head in one of the pails, its rump stuck in the air and it's tail wagging furiously.
He quietly crossed the yard and the first indication that Marcus had that anything was wrong was the tearing pain as Crastinus's belt cut him across the back of his thighs. He turned to face the enraged man, raw egg trickling down his chin.
"Why you dirty little thieves," Crastinus roared landing another cut across the front of Marcus's legs, "I'll tan your filthy idle hides for this. Stealing food and letting the dog get the milk, it's the cane for the pair of you before your suppers this evening. Get that stuff up to the house and I'll find some real work for you to do. Go on."
He grabbed Marcus by the arm and pushed him roughly out of the shed. Musca tried to slip past him unnoticed but Crastinus managed to land two fierce cuts on the back of his legs as he scuttled past.
Crastinus followed the two boys up to the farmhouse.
"Now," he said after they had handed the milk and eggs to the maid, "since you can't be trusted round the yard take these two brooms and sweep the lane up to the house clear of snow. I'll be keeping an eye on the pair of you so don't make things worse for yourself than they already are."
Two very chastened and frightened small boys a few minutes later were hard at work in the lane. Bare footed and with only thin tunics to keep out the cold they wielded the brooms vigorously trying to keep warm. Soon however their arms began to ache and they started, despite themselves, to slacken off. The path had been roughly dug out but there had been a further light fall that morning and this in addition to the patches of uncleared snow made their task a hard one.
"Well," Musca muttered trying to see the bright side of things, "at least we managed to get one egg each before he spotted us."
"Yes, I suppose so. Do you think he'll thrash us and not let us have any supper?" Marcus asked nervously.
Musca paused in his work the better to contemplate this awful possibility and in the sudden silence the boys heard the drum of horses hooves and the sound of men's voices on the road below them. Musca clambered up the bank bordering the hedge and stared down the hill.
"It's the huntsmen," he shouted excitedly. "They come here every year after the wolves. That must have been why Crastinus wanted the lane swept. Look."
Marcus clambered up the bank beside him. Approaching them was a column of men and horses. In the lead were five or six mounted men with swords hanging from their belts, behind them loped as many more on foot carrying spears, these were followed by six couple of wolf hounds, large grey and shaggy, kept in order by three men carrying whips. The rear was brought up by a string of pack animals carrying supplies for the party.
At the head of this cavalcade as it clattered noisily up the hill towards the two boys was a young man, hardly twenty two years old . Riding a tall black horse whose coat gleamed with health. The animal pranced and pawed at the ground impatient at being held back by it's rider. The young man controlled the horse despite it's fiery spirit. He had an arrogant rather cruel face, dark and hawk nosed, that spoke of power and wealth. He wore a black fur cloak fastened at his neck with a large gold broach that gleamed in the winter sunshine over a fur jerkin and a thick woollen tunic, his boots were fur lined and his legs also bound in fur. He was Marcus realised with a feeling of sick horror his step mother's younger brother, Cassius Valerius Corvus.
Musca pulled urgently on his tunic.
"Kneel," he said, "get down off the bank and kneel."
The two boys scrambled hastily down the to the road. It was unlikely Marcus thought as he knelt in the dirty snow that any of the men would pay much attention to two little slave boys cowering at their horses feet as they rode by. Just as it was unlikely that Cassius, if he did spare him a glance, would realise that one of the two bare legged, half starved brats was his sister's step son. He had only met Cassius twice before. On the first occasion the young man had made a pass at him which he had rejected and on the second Cassius had chosen to ignore him. To be on the safe side he kept his head bowed until the riders had passed by. Lifting it and looking after them he was disturbed to see Cassius turned in his saddle staring back at him. Their eyes met and something flared in the young man's eyes.
At that point one of the men with the hounds, laughing, lashed at the two boys with his whip. They jumped squealing to their feet and scampered out of reach. Glancing back to the farm house Marcus saw Cassius dismounting from his horse at the foot of the steps leading to the front door. It seemed to him the young man's eyes sought him out again.
"Did you see that cloak," Musca explained, "I wish I could have warm clothes like that. And that broach it must have cost more than four times what we are worth. Let's go up to the yard and see what else is going on."
"What about Crastinus? Marcus asked nervously. "He said we were to stay here."
"He'll be much too busy with the hunters now they've arrived to notice what we are up to. Come on they'll be feeding the hounds soon and there maybe some scraps for us if the kennel men are feeling generous."
The yard was crowded with excited chattering boys who had abandoned their work to see the hounds and to wonder at the clothes of the huntsmen. Either Crastinus was too busy welcoming his new guests to notice the boys or he felt this was one occasion when discipline should be relaxed.
Cassius and his friends had gone into the farmhouse leaving the grooms to see to their horses. Marcus stood with the other boys watching the horses being led away to the stables and listening to the wolf hounds baying in the shed in which they had been locked. The three kennel men appeared carrying buckets of steaming offal. The boys danced around them, keeping just out of their reach, begging shrilly for food. One of the men picked up a length of flesh and threw it among the crowd of starving slave brats. Laughing the men watched as the boys scrambled on the yard floor for this fragment of tripe. The men were obviously in a good mood and two or three further pieces of offal were thrown to the boys. Musca managed to secure one piece which he shared with Marcus in a corner of the yard away from the other boys.
It seemed Marcus thought as he squatted on the ground chewing hungrily on the fragment of raw tripe that Cassius had not recognised him. He had not been seized by the men and dragged into the house for questioning or any thing like that. Perhaps what he had seen in Cassius's eyes was not recognition but lust. Marcus knew that with his cropped fair hair and deeply tanned skin he was an attractive looking boy. True he was a good deal skinnier now, after months of short rations, than when he first arrived at the farm. There was less flesh on his thighs, the dimples on either side of his rump were more pronounced, and the outline of his rib cage was more visible but he looked lithe and fit rather than completely starved. It was not as though his limbs looked stick like or his elbows and knees stood out from the rest of his body.
The bell at the back of the farm house clanged signalling it was time for the boy's supper. This was the one occasion in the day when the boys did not need driving. They crowded together a few yards away from the kitchen steps. One of the field slaves set the troughs on the ground and a ripple of anticipation ran through the crowd of boys. For Marcus and Musca, knowing that they were to be thrashed, feeling of anticipation was strongly laced with fear. The boys waited patiently knowing that they were only allowed to approach the troughs when they had been filled and permission granted.
Marcus sensed a movement on the terrace above him, dragging his eyes from the food troughs on which all his and every other the boy's attention was focused, he saw Cassias leaning on the railing staring down at the crowd of shivering hungry slave brats. He had shed his cloak but still wore his fur lined jerkin. He was nursing in his hands a silver goblet from which steam rose and there was a curl to his thin lips that mixed contempt and amusement in more or less equal proportions. It occurred to Marcus that if things had turned out differently in nine or so years he could well have been standing in Cassius's place, well fed and warmly clothed, whiling away the time before his dinner surveying the boy flesh available for his later enjoyment.
Another young man strolled round the corner of the house and joined Cassius. He too was expensively clothed and had a heavy gold chain hanging round his neck.
"I doubt if you will see anything to appeal to your tastes here Cassius," he said speaking in a loud confident voice. "Dirty little animals all of them, not like the well washed scented little beauties we have at home. And not very skilled either I suspect."
"You never know your luck Antonius. If you see one you fancy no doubt Crastinus will have the brat cleaned up for you if you tell him. As for skill well there's a pleasure in teaching a fresh young boy how to please his betters, though I agree this lot don't look very fresh. Too worn down with hunger and hard work for that."
The field slave reappeared carrying two heavy buckets. A ripple of excitement passed through the ranks of the slave boys as he slopped their steaming contents into the trough.. Marcus stirred unhappily as he saw Crastinus appear at the kitchen door a long supple cane held in his right hand.
"Can you imagine," Cassius demanded of his friend having to eat that muck. I'd rather die. I don't know how any one can."
"Well the boy's seem to like it," his companion said with a laugh, " but then I suppose it's debatable as to whether they are human or not."
"Oh look there's Crastinus and he's carrying a cane. Do you think he's going to beat one of the boys Cassius. I do hope so. There's nothing that gives me a better appetite for my dinner than watching a boy having his bum well flayed."
"Well we'd better ask him Antonius. Crastinus, my dear fellow, my friend wants one of the boys flogged as an appetiser for his dinner. I don't know why. Maybe the cane cutting up the boys bum puts him in mind of a joint being carved or alternatively the child's squeals reminds him of a pig being slaughtered." Cassius laughed uproariously and continued. "Anyway are you going to oblige?"
"I have to thrash two boys Sir," Crastinus replied gruffly. It was clear that beating a boy was a duty not a pleasure to him, "and they both know who they are. Come on over here you two and strip."
Musca and Marcus got reluctantly to their feet. It seemed to Marcus as he stumbled forward that his legs were numb and that the distance between him and Crastinus had suddenly become enormous. The two boys pulled their short tunics over their heads and placed them carefully on the bottom of the steps leading up to the terrace. Naked they turned to face Crastinus.
"What a ghastly mess that dark haired little tyke is," Antonius exclaimed in his piercing voice. "Have you ever seen any thing uglier. Look at the scars on his chest. Crastinus why ever do you bother to feed such a deformed little brute.?"
Marcus moved close to his friend and touched him reassuringly on his bare thigh. He knew Musca was very sensitive about the marks left on him by the mountain lion's mauling. He heard Musca sniff as he struggled to hold back his tears.
"I keep the boy for the work he does Sir and he's good enough at that." The man's voice was grim. He was going to beat the two boys because he had caught them thieving and thieving boys got beaten. Privately though and he would never admit this to anyone else other than his wife, he thought they were about the best boys he had.
"The blondes not too bad though," Cassius remarked. "Lovely little bum look at it. A nice jut to it and don't you think the dimples are attractive. It really is very inviting."
"Yes but is it a boy Cassius? I can't see anything very much between the legs in front to give a clue."
"That's the cold and lack of food their balls and _c_o_c_k_s sort of shrivel up. I'm sure I can see something there not very large I admit. Any way what's in front isn't important to me. It's the boy's bottom I want to _f_u_c_k_."
Musca's hand sort Marcus's and squeezed it. Marcus felt his eyes smart with tears of humiliation.
"Crastinus, my good fellow," Cassius continued, "don't cut up that little blondes backside too much will you. Just enough to make him look attractive and when you've finished with him have him cleaned up and sent to me. You can slice the dark haired one's bottom up as much as you like though."
"Very well Sir," Crastinus grated turning his back on the two young men. It was clear he was rapidly loosing his patience.
"You ungrateful little brutes are thieves," he said to Marcus and Musca speaking slowly and raising his voice so that the other slave boys could hear him. "You have stolen food. Because of that I am going to punish you. This is the first time I have caught you I am going to give you both twelve strokes of the cane. Musca you will get all twelve today. Marcus as the lord has asked me not to cut you up too badly you will get six.. But do not think you will get off as lightly as that. You will have the remaining six when the lord has finished with you. All of you be warned I will not be so merciful if this happens again."
"You are friends so you can help each other. Musca come here and stand close behind Marcus and put your arms over his shoulders. Marcus get hold of his wrists and lean forward so that his feet are clear of the ground. Very Good."
Crastinus walked behind the two boys. He laid his cane gently across Musca's bare rump measuring his distance. Marcus felt his friends body tense. Crastinus lifted the cane high over his shoulder, paused and then brought it down across the child's defenceless rump with all his strength. Marcus heard the vicious hiss as the cane descended and the sharp crack as wood struck bare flesh. Musca's body jerked convulsively and a split second later the boy screamed shrilly. Crastinus waited a couple of seconds to allow the boy to fully experience the agony of the first cut. He watched as the scarlet weal raised by the cane across the smooth curve of Musca's neat little bottom deepened to a reddish purple. He noticed a bead of blood, red against the boys brown skin, well from the spot where the tip of the cane, curving about the boys body, had torn the flesh. He raised the cane again. Slowly and methodically, spacing the cuts out so that Musca would feel everyone to the full, he thrashed the boy. Musca howled and writhed as the cane sliced down on his quivering rump. Crastinus worked from the top of the boys bottom down, laying each stroke parallel to the last with unerring accuracy.
As Musca's naked body jumped and twisted under the bite of the cane Marcus felt a growing hardness pressing against the small of his back. Musca's screams, the hiss of the descending cane, the sound of wood striking boy's flesh, the feel of his friend's naked body against his bare back excited Marcus and his prick also began to harden. Musca's body jerked convulsively and a warm dampness flooded over the base of Marcus's back.
Crastinus saw Musca's bottom muscles begin to pulse. He lowered the cane waiting for the spasms to cease. He had flogged enough boys to recognise what has happening. He knew there was no point in continuing the beating until Musca had finished . The boy would not notice any cuts inflicted on him until then and the whole point of thrashing a boy was to make him feel the pain. He rested the flat of his hand on Musca's bottom feeling the boy shudder as the orgasm wracked his body. Satisfied that it was over and he once again had the child's full attention he shifted his stance and delivered the final four strokes of the beating diagonally across the weals of the strokes already inflicted. Blood welled from the boy's bottom where the cuts intersected.
"That's over Musca," Crastinus said. "Get down now."
Marcus straightened and released his grip on the other boy' wrists. Musca stood sobbing wiping the tears and snot from his face with the back of his hands.
"Oh look Antonius the poor child has been hurt," Cassius jeered. "What a cruel man you are Crastinus.
"And your blond is a boy Cassius," Antonius giggled, "his little prick is standing to attention."
"Little is the word," Cassius replied, "you're sure it's a prick and not a bit of straw that's somehow got stuck in him."
"It's the wrong colour for straw. Any way I'm going in now. I want another drink. You coming Cassius?" Antonius enquired.
"No I'll stay here and watch the blond tyke getting his bum warmed. It'll be a nice appetiser for later."
Crastinus meanwhile had been casting an experienced eye over Musca's bleeding rump.
"Let that be a warning to you brat," he said gruffly. "Next time I won't let you off so lightly. Now get back with the others you can't horse any one with your bum in that state."
Musca scuttled off sobbing to squat down among his fellow slave boys leaving Marcus standing alone before Crastinus. The man glared at the trembling boy, a wintry smile crossed his lips as he noticed the lad's tiny prick standing erect. Suddenly he grasped the back of Marcus's slave collar, twisting his left hand inside it, half choking the boy and forcing his head towards the ground. Marcus heard the cane sing through the air behind him, he tensed and a fierce all consuming pain drove the breath from his body. It felt as though a knife had been slashed across his bottom slicing through the flesh. For a moment he could not breath. Then he gasped air down into his lungs and shrieked in agony.
Before his flight from Rome pride would have forced Marcus to try not to scream. Even then he would have broken down before the third stroke for Crastinus was a strong man and wielded the cane with savage energy. Now he yelled as he suffered under the rod like any other little slave boy receiving a flogging. Crastinus kept a firm hold of his collar as hand Marcus bucked and jumped in his grasp as the man brought the cane slashing down across his bare bum.
At last it was over. Crastinus allowed the boy to stand upright but kept hold of his collar.
"All right," he said loudly, "you can eat now."
There was a dash for the trough and in a second the boys were squatting packed around it desperately stuffing handfuls of maize porridge into their mouths.
"You," he said giving Marcus a vigorous shake, "come with me. You'll have to be cleaned up for the lord."
Marcus cast a longing glance back to the trough as Crastinus lead him away. He knew there was no point in pleading but his tummy ached with hunger.
Marcus stumbled up the terrace steps beside Crastinus his head bowed snivelling in misery.
"Let's have a look at the brat's bum then," Marcus raised his head and saw Cassius standing grinning in front of him.
"Why boy," Cassius continued looking down into Marcus's tear and snot stained face, "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"
"No Sir...I...I... don't think so Sir," Marcus said with as much conviction as he could manage through his sobs.
"Could have sworn I had. Still one slave brat looks much like another I suppose. Turn round boy."
Marcus felt Cassius run his fingers along the welts scored across his bottom by the cane. The man pressed his finger tips into the rawness where the rod had split the skin of his bottom and laughed when the boy squealed..
"You've marked him well Crastinus," Cassius gloated cruelly. "A boys bottom always look better for a few cuts of the cane. But the brat stinks of the yard. Have him thoroughly washed before you send him to me and I will get one of my people to bring you some stuff to make him smell of something else than goats."
He landed a hard open handed slap on Marcus's raw bum and walked off laughing.
"Sir," Marcus pleaded desperately, "please do I have to go to him. Couldn't I just go back to the other boys. Please Sir."
"Don't be stupid boy," Crastinus snapped, "The lord has chosen you and that's the end of it. If it wasn't that he wants to enjoy your bottom later you would get another taste of the cane for arguing."
Then he surprised Marcus by putting his hand on his shoulder.
"Look boy," Crastinus continued in a much milder voice, "I don't pretend I like this but it isn't the first time a man's had you. Remember the state you were in when you were brought here. If you play your cards right maybe it'll be back to Rome for you with a new master and a warm bed to sleep in and lots of good food to eat. You must make the most of your chances. You have few enough."
Marcus thought he would prefer to stay on the farm with Musca rather than go to Rome as Cassius's fancy boy but he knew better than to say so. Cassius had chosen him and that was the end of the matter. He would have to do his best to play his part so that Cassius did not recognise in the eager little slave slut his sister's step son.
Half an hour later Marcus washed and with his naked body oiled and scented slipped through the door into the room where the huntsmen were eating. It was crowded and noisy. The men did not lie on couches as they would have done at a formal dinner in their own homes but sat around a table as if they were in a common inn. Cassius was at the head of the table, his face flushed, his silver tankard in his hand. On either side of him sat the other young men talking and laughing. Youths hurried to and fro serving food to their masters and filling their wine cups. The table was littered with plates heaped with scallop shells, the remains of the first course of boiled shell fish. Marcus's mouth watered as the smell of cooked food pricked his nostrils
. As Marcus stood hesitating he was knocked to one side by a man entering the room bearing an enormous salver of partridges in raisin sauce surrounded by almond sausages. The slaves hurried forward to clear the table. Cassius glanced round to see what was happening. He saw Marcus and beckoned him over.
"How's that bum of yours boy? Still sore?"
"Yes Sir," Marcus replied nervously.
"Well it's your own fault boy you should not steal food. Let's have a look at it." Grabbing Marcus by his wrist Cassius turned him so that he could see his bottom. Marcus braced himself expecting at least a slap on his still raw flesh. Instead he felt the man's lips against the curve of his rump.
"There you are. Kiss it better. Now we shan't say any more about it," Cassius said pulling the boy down onto his knees.
Marcus felt the man's fine linen tunic under his bare bottom. He also felt a growing hardness pressing up through the material. He wriggled up against the young man's chest working his rump tight into his lap. Cassius slipped his hand around the boy's waste and began to idly finger his little boy's _c_o_c_k_.
"I though you were going to take a bight of him just then," Antonius, who was sitting immediately to Cassius's right, laughed.
"Well his bottoms good enough to eat but I have other plans for it," Cassius replied. "I leave dishes like that for the people who are privileged to attend those special dinner parties at the Golden Palace."
"If you're angling for an invite I'll try to get one for you." Antonius said.
"No thank you. Too many of our divine emperor's friends seem to be sent to make an early and permanent visit to his fellow Gods."
"Well I think perhaps you are wise. I hear your family has rather disappointed him over this Corax affairs. It has not proved to be as profitable as they lead him to believe."
Marcus who had started to gently nibble the lobe of Cassius's ear began to pay attention to the men's conversation. This was the first indication that he received that things were not going well for his father's enemies.
"The monies there all right.," Cassius snapped angrily. "It's just a question of screwing it out of his freemen and they're proving difficult. He's got no need to worry he'll get his cut in time."
"Well you're a lively little whore aren't you," he said pushing Marcus head away from his neck with his shoulder. "You've been _f_u_c_k_ed before haven't you?"
"Yes Sir," Marcus said looking up into the man's face and running the tip of his tongue along his lips. Cassius laughed and bending his head kissed the boy fiercely on the mouth. Marcus opened his lips and the man's tongue flicked into his mouth.
"I've picked myself a hot little bitch here," Cassius said a moment or two later wrenching his lips free. "I said you could find some choice boy's flesh among the brats here didn't I Antonius?"
"Yes but are you going to keep him for yourself or are you going to share him round. After all we are your guests."
"You'll have to wait your turn. He's mine for tonight maybe you lot can share him tomorrow after our first days hunting."
"Now boy are you hungry?"
Marcus wriggled his bottom in the man's lap and smiled up into his face suggestively. He was very hungry but he knew that convincing Cassius he was no more than a pretty and willing slave boy was more important than filling his stomach.
"I mean for food not _c_o_c_k_ boy. I can see I'm going to have a lively night with you though."
Marcus nodded his head and Antonius guffawed.
"I've never come across a slave brat who isn't looking for food," he remarked.
Cassius reached across Marcus and tore a leg from the whole partridge that had been placed on the pate in front of him. Gripping it between his finger and thumb he held it to Marcus's lips who nibbled eagerly at it.
"Where shall we start the hunt tomorrow?" Cassius asked as he held his fingers out to Marcus to lick clean. The men started to talk about hunting and hounds and Marcus lost interest. He nestled on Cassius knees half dosing in the unaccustomed heat of the room, rousing himself every now and again to eat such scraps as the man allowed him, while the talk and laughter flowed on around him. As he chatted Cassius absent mindedly caressed the boy's naked body. Occasionally Marcus would stir himself , he would then give his bottom a little provocative wriggle against the man's growing hardness and softly nuzzle his neck.
The meal had long been finished and the lamps were burning low when Cassius pushed himself to his feet tumbling Marcus to the floor.
"Come on boy," the man said prodding the boy with his foot. "Now you can show me how good a tart you really are."
The other hunters laughed and shouted obscenities as the man followed by the fair haired naked boy walked from the room.
Cassius stumbled as he mounted the stairs. Once he was inside the bedroom he pulled off his tunic and sat heavily on the bed. It was clear that he had done himself well with the Setinian wine. Marcus knelt at his feet. Reaching upwards he unfastened Cassius's loincloth and gently pulled it away. His eyes fastened on the man's _c_o_c_k_, already semi- erect, it's head just pushing clear of it's foreskin, and his heavy balls surrounded by a forest of dark wiry pubic hair. He lent forward and ran his tongue along the tiny slit at the top of Cassius's prick then he hunkered back on his heels and concentrated on unlacing the man's boots. He pulled these off and unwound the bandages about his feet. Bending down so that his bum was forced high up in the air he licked between the man's toes tasting the man's sour sweat on his tongue. Then he took them into his mouth and sucked them. Licking and kissing he made his way up Cassius's legs until his nose was pressed into his crutch. The man's testicles were large and hairy but Marcus managed to take them one by one into his mouth. By now Cassius's prick was fully erect. Marcus ran his tongue along it full length from it's base in the dark smelly tangle of pubic hair to it's throbbing tip. His tongue flicked round it's pink head before he took the man's rod into his mouth. He was experienced now and there was none of the choking and gagging that had marked his first attempts to suck _c_o_c_k_. He swallowed and took it's full length into him, feeling it reaching down into his throat. He began to suck feeling the man's blood pounding as he pressed his tongue against the pulsating shaft. He felt the man's _c_o_c_k_ spasm and his mouth was full of warm sour fluid with a slightly metallic taste. He swallowed desperately but still some dribbled down his chin.
Cassius caught hold of him by his arm and pulled him up so that he was seated beside him.
"And now I'll _f_u_c_k_ your bum," he said savagely and tumbled him backwards onto the bed.
Once again Marcus set to work with his lips and tongue. Dulled with wine and having already experienced one orgasm Cassius proved hard to rouse but at last Marcus felt his _c_o_c_k_ stir and begin to harden. Marcus redoubled his efforts and suddenly Cassius grabbed him by his shoulders and spun him over on to his face. Marcus knowing what was required of him. He spread his legs and raised his bum to receive the man's now rampant member. His anus, well lubricated and stretched by use, offered little resistance. A second or two later Cassius's _c_o_c_k_ was buried in his bottom The man's balls slapped against Marcus's rump as Cassius worked his _c_o_c_k_ in the boy. Cassius was quick and brutal in his _f_u_c_k_ing. His lust satisfied he rolled onto his side and immediately fell asleep snoring loudly.
Marcus spread some blankets over the sleeping man and crept into the bed beside him. He assumed Cassius would require his services again in the morning.
Marcus woke to find Cassius still asleep. He moved his hand to the man's crutch and found his _c_o_c_k_ limp and unresponsive to his caresses. Down stairs he could hear the household stirring. Eventually Cassius woke. He pushed Marcus from the bed and swung his own feet to the floor.
"Chamber pot, quickly, boy," he ordered hoarsely.
Marcus knelt between the man's knees holding the pot while Cassius directed a stream of amber liquid into it.
"I've got a mouth like a pig sty," Cassius complained as he wiped his fingers dry on Marcus's cropped head. "And my _c_o_c_k_s covered with filth from your bottom. Come on clean it up."
Marcus bent down and set to work licking and sucking the man's flaccid prick clean. The dirt, a mixture of Cassius's sperm and his own _s_h_i_t_, had dried over night so it was not a quick or easy task.
"Do the job properly boy," Cassius commanded brutally, "roll the foreskin back and clean behind it."
Eventually, in response to Marcus's agile tongue, the man's rod began to stiffen. By the time the boy had licked away the last fragment of filth it was once more fully erect, cruel and demanding.
Cassius caught hold of Marcus by his ears and pulled his head back. He looked down into the boy's face a cold smile on his lips.
"Well Marcus," he said, "you've certainly learnt some useful skills. Your step mother will be able to get a good price for you from one of the boy brothels near the forum once we no longer have any use for you."
"Oh," he continued seeing the look of shock on the boy's face, "I recognised you the first time I saw you. I thought it would be fun to see how good a slave boy you were. You're very good Marcus. Very good, but then I suppose you were borne to it. Both your mother and father were slaves weren't they?"
Cassius laughed loudly.