This story describes the abuse, physical and _s_e_x_ual, of a young boy by adults. If you do not like such stories or are under age please do not read it. All comments to Zelamir@hotmail. com. I will try and reply to all posts except those complaining that the story involves the abuse of a young boy. That is what the story is about. You have been warned.
The cart rolled slowly through the streets of Rome, all but deserted in the early morning. It left the city by the Porta Collina and began it's long Northward journey. The strengthening sun, filtered through the tightly stretched canvas of the wagon's arched roof, shed a gentle light over it's interior. Apart from Marcus it's only cargo was two casks of wine and half a dozen great bags of flour, supplies for the farm which lay so far up in the mountains that it grew neither vines nor corn.
Marcus lay on his bed of sacks, his wholly body ached and there was a great soreness between his legs. But worse than the pain for him was the humiliation.. It was bad enough to have been taken by force and raped but what was far more shaming was that his own body had betrayed him. Painful though it was, the soldiers _c_o_c_k_ up his bum had excited him and he had shown it. He, Marcus, son of Corax, heir to the greatest fortune in the whole Roman Empire, had reacted as if he was a common little slave boy, an animal without dignity or modesty. That thought troubled him more than the rawness of his shoulders and bottom. All that would pass with time, the pain would fade away as would the bruises and welts that disfigured his lithe young body. It troubled him more than his fears for his immediate future, shackled naked in the cart, a slave collar round his neck. His current sufferings would end once he was delivered to the farm and revealed his true identity to his father's agent there. Nothing would ever banish his knowledge that he had reacted like a common tart to the thrill of the soldiers rod probing his bottom. Maybe nobody else noticed his erection, although he strongly suspected his father's secretary had, but he knew and that was enough.
Sunk in misery and filled with self disgust he stared unseeingly into space. In time exhaustion took effect. His thumb stole up to his mouth and he fell into an uneasy slumber.
The carter lolled on the seat behind the two heavy horses as they plodded their way forward along the Via Latina. Every now and again their pace would slacken until they were almost stationery. Then the man would rouse himself and with a flick of his whip across their black haunches, goad them back into a steady walk. They had crossed the flood plain of the Tiber and had begun to climb the low hills that would in time rise to form the Apennines. The sun was almost directly over head. The heat of the sun and the reflected heat from the ground had begun to bother both the carter and the horses. He pulled the wagon off the road into a grove of pine trees where a pipe jutting out from an outcrop of rocks jetted crystal clear water into a horse trough. The hot still air was heavy with the scent of pine needles. Another cart stood there already, it's driver seated on a boulder eating a lunch of bread and goat's cheese washed down by gulps of wine from an earthen ware flask.
The carter drew his wagon to a halt some distance from the other man. He raised his hand in salute and then standing up began to rummage through the box on which he sat to drive the cart. Selecting a short heavy leather trace he jumped to the ground, the buckle end of the strap swinging loose from his hand.
He walked slowly round to the back of the cart. Placing a hand on it's floor he vaulted up into the cargo space. Marcus woken by the man's approach blinked his eyes open. For a moment he was unable to remember where he was or how he had come there. Then it all came flooding back, the savage flogging by his father, the sudden waking in the early hours of the morning, the panic stricken flight through the dark corridors of the villa, his brutal rape by the soldiers and finally his escape, if escape it was.
The carter stood looking for a moment down at the naked boy curled on the sacking bed at his feet. He noticed the livid welts and bruises that disfigured his shoulders and buttocks and the dark stain running down the inside of his thighs. The lad he thought had clearly suffered and that would make his task easier.
He bent down and undid the shackle securing the boy's ankle. Then he stood back and lashed him viciously across his shins with the buckle end of the belt. Marcus howled as the metal clasp cracked down across his legs. There was little flesh between his skin and his shin bone to cushion the blow. The pain was intense.
"Get up. Up," the man shouted lashing, out again. Marcus screamed once more and scrambled to his feet. Blood welled from where the buckle had broken his skin and trickled down the front of his shins. The carter grabbed the boy by his hair and hurled him towards the back of the cart. Marcus staggered down the wagon his bare feet scrabbling at the wooden boards as he desperately fought to maintain his balance. For a moment he teetered on the edge of the wagon's floor and then tumbled in a heap onto the bare earth below.
"Up," the man shouted, lashing him again and again across the legs with the buckle end of the strap. Marcus howled and stumbled unsteadily to his feet. The man lashed out again this time catching him across the chest. The boy yelled and jumped backwards desperate to escape another agonising blow from the flying buckle. Strong rough hands grabbed him from behind.
"You want some help Menas?" a man's voice grated in his ears.
"Yes hold the little tyke still for me would you Gavros while I thrash him."
The man holding him slipped his hands under Marcus's arms and grasped them together behind his neck pushing his head forward. The boy's bare feet scrabbled in the dirt as he struggled to wriggle free. Marcus felt himself lifted clear from the floor. Helpless he was held suspended in the air. He kicked backwards but the man holding him disregarded the blows. Horrified he watched as Menas swung the strap back for another blow. He was screaming even before the buckle cracked down across his ribs. Slowly, deliberately, Menas plied the strap with it's biting metal clasp. The peace of the pine grove was shattered by the sounds of Marcus's flogging, the sickening thud of the buckle against the boy's taught rib cage, the howls of agony and broken pleas for mercy of the tortured lad, the heavy panting of the two men as they went about their grim business.
At last Menas stopped. He stood back and examined his handiwork. Marcus hung whimpering in the hold of the other carter blood trickling down his rib cage from his torn skin. Menas nodded to his friend who released Marcus. The boy staggered but Menas caught him by his arm.
"Oh Sir. Please Sir. No more Sir...," Marcus whined.
"You'll get more brat and plenty of it if you misbehave. Do you understand me boy?" Menas grated menacingly
"Yes Sir....I'll behave Sir....Really Sir." Marcus's eyes were fixed on the strap that still hung loose from the man's free hand. The last vestiges of his pride had gone, destroyed by the savage beating he had endured.
Menas walked the boy a little further from the cart and then released his arm.
"Squat and empty yourself brat," he ordered.
"Sir I don't....." Marcus began. Menas hefted the strap and Marcus quickly hunkered down at his feet.
"Not a bad looking little whore under all that mess," Gavros remarked twisting his hand in the boy's fair hare and pulling his head back to get a better look at him.
"No, not bad at all," Menas replied in a satisfied tone of voice. "I've got the use of him for four days more or less while I take him up to the farm and I aim to make a bit of money out of the whore."
"How did you come by him?"
"Well according to the people back at the villa he's a bit of a thieve and he's being shipped out in disgrace to learn just how nasty life can be for filth like him. I reckon with those looks maybe there's a bit more to it than that. Some body's favourite little bum boy whose been caught with the wrong _c_o_c_k_ up his backside and is being kicked out as a consequence perhaps."
"Yes likely enough with that blonde hair and all. I wonder where that came from?"
"A byblow of the bosses I wouldn't be surprised. I don't suppose the brat's own mother knows though. Too many _c_o_c_k_s up her cunt to know who fathered the whelp on her for sure."
Menas prodded the boy squatting straining at his feet in the bum with his toe.
"Do you know who your father was pig's turd," he asked roughly. Marcus shook his head miserably blinking back his tears simultaneously denying his father and shaming his mother.
"There you are," he continued, "male or female they're just dirt, animals. Left to themselves they eat and _f_u_c_k_ and sleep. Slaves have to be well whipped to get any work out of them."
"Now I think the brats finished. We'll clean him up and have a bit more fun with him."
Marcus was pulled to his feet and led over to the cattle trough. The tears and snot were washed from his face and his body roughly sponged down.
"Not at all bad," Gavros commented looking the boy over appreciatively. "He's pretty badly marked but I guess his skin will heal fast enough. Young flesh generally does."
"Well old friend since you fancy him you can enjoy him now," Menas replied.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I've got four full days with the slut and I can have him any time I want. Go on take your chance and if you get something tasty in the future remember me."
"Get back in the cart boy," Menas continued reinforcing his order with an open handed slap on Marcus's bare rump. Obediently Marcus scrambled in over the tail gate, Gavros and Menas crowding after him and forcing him to the front of the cart where the sacking which had served as his bed lay.
Menas kicked his ankles away from underneath him knocking him to his knees. Grinning broadly Gavros pulled his tunic up over his head and unfastened his loincloth. His whole body was covered in a thick matt of dark coarse hair. Marcus gazed fearfully at his _c_o_c_k_ which stood erect, hard and cruelly demanding, only a few feet in front of his face.
Gavros spat on his hand lubricating his prick with his own saliva. Dropping to his knees behind Marcus he grabbed the boy by his slave collar forcing his head down to the floor. He slipped his free hand between Marcus's legs pushing his bottom upwards. Marcus shuddered as he felt the man run his thumb nail along his perineum. He felt his own _c_o_c_k_ harden. Gavros's thumb came to rest on his anus. The man pressed firmly downwards and despite himself it's lips parted. The man maintained the pressure probing deeper into the boy . Marcus's bum muscles began to pump as he tried to draw the thumb deeper into his bottom.
Gavros withdrew his thumb ringing a low moan from the thoroughly aroused boy.
"The little whore's really hot for it," the man laughed contemptuously.
Marcus felt the head of the man's prick pressing into him. He, strained backwaards, forcing his bottom even further into the air, silently begging the man to bury the full length of his throbbing _c_o_c_k_ in his body. Gavros needed no second invitation. With three sharp thrusts he drove his rod deep into the boy. Marcus felt the man's coarse pubic hair against his bum. Gavros paused a moment savouring the feel of the boy's body clamped hot and tight around his _c_o_c_k_, then, with increasing urgency he began to pump the boys bottom. Marcus groaned and panted as he responded to the man's penetration of his bum.
He felt a hand in his hair. His head was jerked back and through his lust glazed eyes he saw immediately in front of his face Menas's swollen _c_o_c_k_. Unbidden he opened his mouth. The man's shaft filled his mouth stretching his jaws until they ached, reaching far down into his throat. Desperately he gagged and fought for air. Menas withdrew his prick just sufficiently to let him draw breath and then thrust forward once again. His nostrils were filled with the sour smell of urine and sweat. The man's pubic hairs pressed against his face. Then he felt both men surge inside him and his throat and mouth were filled with warm oddly metallic tasting fluid.
Marcus lay on his side semen trickling down his chin form the corner of his mouth. His bottom was sore there was a feeling of warm sticky dampness between his legs. He could hear the men chatting together outside the van and the splash of water as they washed themselves.
"Come on out boy and clean yourself up," Menas called.
Painfully Marcus crawled to the end of the cart and lowered himself to the ground. The two men were sitting side by side on a rock eating and sharing a flask of wine. Menas gestured to a bucket of water and some wet rags that stood on the ground by the side of the wagon. Obediently Marcus began to swab himself down while the men watched him with cold expressionless stares. He was too
frightened and miserable to be embarrassed or to resent their presence as, spreading his legs and pushing out his bum, he gingerly washed the soreness in his bottom. That task finished he hesitated waiting to be told what to do next.
Menas crooked a finger at him and pointed to the ground. Fearfully Marcus scuttled over to him and squatted at his feet. Menas took the boy's chin in his hand and tipped back his head. Nervously Marcus tried to look away but the man held his chin firm as his eyes bored into him. The man could see nothing in the boy's eyes except hopelessness and terror. Satisfied he released the lad's chin. He held the flask to Marcus's lips. The boy almost choked as he swallowed a mouthful of the harsh red wine. Menas broke a chunk off the loaf that he was eating and handed it to Marcus. The boy took it from him and holding it in his two hands gnawed eagerly at the coarse black bread as he crouched at Menas's feet.
Marcus felt the man's hand stroking his hair. Despite himself and despite all the abuse he had suffered from Menas he could not help responding. After all he was only twelve. He needed some one to turn to and there was no one else. Menas had been cruel, very cruel, but now he was treating him better. Perhaps if he showed he accepted the man's mastery this would continue. He turned his face towards Menas and nuzzled the palm of his hand. Menas let him do so for a few seconds and then gently pulling his hand away tousled the boy's hair.
"Come on back in the cart with you," he commanded. "We've got a long journey in front of us."
"Try to get some rest now boy," Menas said as he clamped the iron chain fast once more about Marcus's ankle. "You have work to do tonight."
Menas climbed up onto the driving seat of the wagon and with a crack of the whip set his horses into motion. As they rolled out of the clearing and back onto the Via Latina he waved to Gavros.
"Remember," he shouted cheerfully, "you owe me." He was in a good mood. Boys like horses need to be broken he thought and he was good at both jobs.
Marcus lay on his bed of sacking in the back of the cart. He was frightened and full of self loathing. In one respect though Menas's reading of him was wrong. Marcus still hoped. If he could survive the next four days and get to the farm he would be able to identify himself to his father's bailiff and become once more a free boy. He knew though that he would never be able to be free of his memory of his shame ...and there were those four long days to get through.
---------
It was dusk when Menas again pulled the cart to a halt. Marcus woken by the sudden cessation of movement sat up. The interior of the cart was only dimly illuminated by the failing light. Menas appeared at the tail gate and climbed up into the wagon. Marcus saw he held the strap with it's ferocious buckle swinging loose. The boy scrambled to get away from him until brought up short by the chain around his ankle.
"Now no need to be frightened boy," Menas said bending to undo the shackle, "provided you're a good lad and do as you are told. You will be a good boy won't you.?"
"Oh yes Sir, yes," Marcus promised eagerly.
"Good out you come then and I'll tell what you have to do to avoid getting another taste of the belt and to earn your supper. Come along whore," the man's voice hardened as Marcus appeared to hesitate.
Quickly Marcus scrambled from the cart. He saw that the cart was parked at the side of the road along with many other vehicles. Small fires glowed in the gathering darkness around which groups of men were huddled. Some way ahead of them were the outskirts of a small town, a few isolated lights glimmering dimly from shutterless windows. Along the road a motley crowd of men and women moved enjoying the cool evening air. The only sounds was the hum of human voices and somewhere in the middle distance the murmur of running water.
Menas held him firmly by the arm and spoke, bending spoke close to his ear to give his words added emphasis. Marcus pulled away as he caught the stench of the man's foul breath but Menas jerked him roughly back.
"You're going to earn me money with that pretty little bum of yours," the man grated. "That won't be any hardship for you filthy little whore so don't go trying to be difficult about it. All that will get you is another taste of the buckle end of my strap. Do you want that filth?"
"No Sir," Marcus whimpered disgusted by what was being demanded of him but too fearful of the man and his brutal strength to dare to refuse.... "I'll do my best Sir.... I really will."
"Of course you will dog dirt. You'll enjoy it," the man snarled contemptuously. "And to make it easier for you I'll hustle the first couple of tricks for you. All you'll have to do is wriggle that tight little arse of yours and smile at the men. I'll do the talking. Now come on tart."
Menas holding him firmly by the arm began to march him towards the nearest camp fire. There were three men sitting round it talking quietly while a pot warmed on the embers.
"Well friends," Menas said cheerfully, "a pleasant night but cool. I have something hot for you to enjoy if you want Come on boy, give the gentlemen a smile, now turn round so they can see what you're offering. That's right wiggle it about for them. There you are Sirs a pretty boy eager to have a man's _c_o_c_k_ up his bottom and you can enjoy him for less than a flask of wine."
"How much?" one of the men asked laughing.
"A quarter of a secterce gentlemen. Less than a flask of wine." (The excavation of a brothel at Rome recently yielded a price list that shows that this was indeed true the charge for the services of a boy or girl was lees than the cost of a jug of wine - there is a problem with Roman money there were 16 asses to a secterce which was a small silver coin. To describe Menas as asking for 4 asses for the use of Marcus's bum would however sound faintly ridiculous.)
"I'd prefer a flask of wine myself," the man said and laughed.
"A flask of wine would leave you with a head ache in the morning but you could enjoy this little beauty and rise fresh as a lark. I'll tell you what Gents I'll accommodate all three of you for half a sesterce. Now I can't say fairer than that. How does that strike you."
"Not interested...Now get off with you and take that little whore with you," the man said loosing patience.
"Very well gentlemen. I think you've made a mistake though. I you change your minds. You can find me at the wagon over there by the road," and Menas walked off dragging Marcus with him
At the next camp fire Menas was more fortunate. The eight men sitting round turned to face look at him as they heard him approaching. Catching sight of Marcus they let out a chorus of whistles and cat calls.
"This is one for you Glaucus," one of the men shouted provoking a gale of laughter from his companions even before Menas began his sales pitch.
"Come here boy. Let me have a look at you," said a fat balding man rising to his feet while his companions hooted and giggled.
"Go across and sell your arse boy. If you don't land this one I'll skin you when I get you back at the wagon," Menas hissed releasing his grip on Marcus's arm.
The boy stepped shyly into the circle of light thrown by the camp fire.
"Turn round boy let's have a look at you bum that's what I'm after," Glaucus commanded sparking off another roar of laughter among his companions. Marcus twisted round and mindful of Menas's threats gave his hips what he hoped was an inviting twitch as he did so.
"Well," Glaucus said patting his bum, "that's very nice and how much will you cost me my pretty."
"A quarter of a sesterce Sir, and please Sir," Marcus blurted desperately turning to face him. "Please take me or I'll be thrashed again Sir and I can't stand that. I promise I'll give you a good time Sir. Really Sir I'm good at it Sir. I promise Sir. I...I.. am a good _f_u_c_k_ Sir."
Dimly he heard in his mind Pisculus's voice saying " a good _f_u_c_k_, that's all we are." Marcus felt ashamed but he forced a smile to his lips as he stared up into the face of his first customer as a whore. All he wanted was to sell his bum and avoid another dose of Menas's strap.
Glaucus hesitated and then nodded. Marcus reached out and took him by the hand. He led him over to the wagon followed by the obscene shouts and raucous laughter of the man's companions.
There was a clink of coins in the darkness at the back of the cart as Glaucus paid his money to Menas.
Glaucus was the first of many men that Marcus serviced over the next three nights. Menas knew he had the use of the boy for only a short period and he made the most of it.
"Come on you lazy little tart," Menas commanded as soon as Glaucus had gone. "Get yourself cleaned up and find another customer."
Marcus crawled out of the wagon to where Menas stood beside a small wood fire. There was a bucket of water and some rags. Marcus swabbed his bottom clean feeling the man's gaze on him and uneasily aware of the menace of the strap that he held in his right hand.
Marcus could never remember afterwards exactly how many men he serviced. He went from camp fire to camp fire hawking his bum. Sometimes he was driven off with blows, sometimes the men just laughed at him and very occasionally he would find a customer for what he was selling. After he had made his round of the wagon park he returned to where Menas sat to watch the crowds strolling, every now and again darting out to pull on a man's sleeve.
"Give you a good time Sir, Only a quarter of sesterce Sir. I'll take it up the bum Sir. I'm good Sir. Better than you've ever had before Sir. Clean lively boy Sir. Just a quarter of a sesterce Sir."
Menas kept him at it until the last of the parading citizens had returned to their homes. Only then was he given his supper a bowl of bread soaked in warm goats milk. He was asleep on his bed of sacks, sticky now with sweat and semen, before the iron ring was clamped around his ankle.
Each of the two succeeding nights were much the same only on each occasion the crowds became progressively smaller and the evening air cooler as they travelled further away from Rome and higher up the foothills of the Apennines.
Marcus tried not to think about what he was doing. He wriggled his hips and showed his bottom in a sort of self induced trance. Every now and again though a rough joke by one of his clients or a sharp spasm of pain caused by some man's brutal _f_u_c_k_ing forced him to face reality. Then he would fight back the overwhelming shame and console himself, yet again, with the thought that soon he would be at the farm and he would again be free.
At last the fourth day came. Marcus lying on the floor of the cart could feel the road rising and the horses labouring as they trudged upwards.
The wagon halted. The canvas flaps at the rear were parted and Menas climbed up.
"We're almost at your new master's place now boy," he said bending to release Marcus's manacled ankle. "You can walk now and lighten the load for the horses."
"Please Sir...Could I have a bit of bread Sir," Marcus begged for he had had nothing all day.
"No you can't you spoilt little whore. I'm not going to waste money feeding you now. You're no more use to me. Let your new master feed you if he feels like it."
Holding Marcus by the wrist he hauled him out of the cart. He bound the boy's wrist together with a length of cord and tied one end to the wagon.
"Well one last time for luck I suppose," he said and forcing Marcus down over the back of the cart brutally _f_u_c_k_ed his bottom. Then he set the cart in motion leaving Marcus, tethered by his wrists, to trudge along in it's dust, cum and other filth trickling down the inside of his thighs.
Two hours later the cart rolled into the yard of small white washed farm behind which rose the broken rock and scrubby pastures of the high Apennines. There was a moment of hectic activity as the corn and wine was unloaded and replaced with goats cheeses . During that time no one took any notice of Marcus who was left tied to the cart.
Then the farmer, a short broad shouldered man with a deep scar on one side of his face, noticed him.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Oh that. A new goat herd for you sent up from the boss's Villa Rome. In disgrace for thieving food. A hot little bit of arse. I made a bit out of him on the way up I can tell you."
"Well boy's arses don't interest me." the man said untying Marcus from the cart. "But I could certainly do with a new goat herd. We lost two last winter on the mountain before we brought the herds down."
"Well it's a waste that's all I can say. Anyway I better get this fresh load on the road."
Marcus waited until the carter was safely out of the yard and then spoke to the farmer.
"I am, my good fellow," he said, "Marcus son of your proprietor Corax. I have to stay here for a time. Would you please arrange food a bath and some clothes for me straight away."
The farmer turned and looked at him in amazement. Then a great smile broke across his face.
"Indeed My Lord," he said bowing very low. "Let me welcome you My Lord to our humble home. If your Lordship would do me the honour just to step this way."
He bowed once more and stood to one side to let Marcus past. Marcus feeling his problems were over and pleased by the deference shown by the simple fellow. Moved forward. Suddenly he was grabbed by his slave collar and bent double.
"You filthy"
CRACK. The farmers belt slammed down across his bare bum.
"little whore"
CRACK
"You come here"
CRACK
"With your arse glued up with man's cum"
CRACK
"Your bottom and shoulders."
CRACK
"Striped with the lash"
CRACK
"And you expect me to swallow that load of dogs _s_h_i_t_"
CRACK
Marcus howled and capered as the man's belt tanned his bottom .
Suddenly a woman's voice rang out shrilly.
"What's all that noise Crastinus? What ever are you doing."
"I'm flogging a little boy whore whose been sent up from Rome to be a goat herd and who has had the insolence to claim to be the son of our lord Corax."
"Well don't kill him. We short of herd boys."
"I don't know if we want clever little tykes like this. Well you can spend the night tethered in the yard the cold'll teach you respect even if my belt hasn't."
Crastinus dragged Marcus to the centre of the yard where a post was set in the ground. He secured a length of chain about his ankle and walked off leaving Marcus lying in the filth of the farm yard. As the sun dropped the temperature fell. Sobs wracked Marcus's body. He was hungry, cold and alone. The one hope that had sustained him until now had gone. Something had prevented the bailiff being told of his coming and as a consequence he was condemned to lifelong servitude.