This is the twelfth instalment of a story which will include descriptions of men physically abusing boys. If you do not enjoy such stories or are under eighteen please do not read it.

The story will include some deaths but it is not a snuff story. The deaths will not be described in a provocative way and are included only for story or character development.

I write because I enjoy doing so. You are at perfectly at liberty to copy or post this story. If you do so I would be glad however if you would acknowledge my authorship.

I would be glad to receive any comments (pleasant if possible) or suggestions you care to make. Please send them to zelamir@hotmail. com. I will reply to any messages I receive other than those complaining that this story include descriptions of young boys being physically abused. That is what it is about. You have been warned.

Marius woke the next morning to find Sulis beside him on the sleeping mat already wide awake. The long room was silent and all but empty. Marius lay quietly for a few minutes watching the motes of dust dancing in the shafts of sunlight from the narrow windows set high in the whitewashed walls. It was the first time for days that he had been allowed to wake naturally. Memories of the previous day came flooding back to him and the brief moment of peace was banished. Panic gripped him as he remembered the sharp hiss of the cane, the sharp crack of wood against bare tender flesh, the screams of the boys suffering under the rod. He had seen and heard enough in his few hours in Scyrax's house to fear incurring it's owner's displeasure.

"What should we do now?" he whispered to Sulis.

The nine year old stretched sleepily.

"I was waiting for you to wake up so that we could both go to the kitchen and find something to eat."

The child rolled onto his face, careful to keep his bruised bottom from contact with the floor, and then cat like with one lithe movement got to his feet.

"How's my bum look?" he asked twisting about himself in an effort to get a view of it.

Marius examined the other boy's rump seriously. Deep crimson welts cut across the smooth curve of the child's bottom. Here and there were darker almost black marks where the cane had drawn blood. The flesh around the welts was reddish purple and dark blue with undertones of sickly green and yellow where the deeper bruising was beginning to show through. The sight of the boy's ravaged bottom frightened but at the same time excited Marius. He felt himself begin to harden again.

"It's badly marked," he said reaching out and gingerly touching the angry weals with his finger tips.

"It's sore enough," Sulis said cheerfully. "Scyrax knows how to use the cane all right."

There was no resentment in his voice just respect for and even a certain pride in the skill of his Master.

"Have you been beaten often?" Marius asked.

"No not often. This is the first time I've been given six strokes. The most before now was two or three at a time."

"Hi," Sulis continued catching sight of Marius's stiff little _c_o_c_k_, "you're like Dictys. He's always going hard when he looks at my bum. He fancies me you know and he's all right but we can't do anything about it because Scyrax would cut his balls off if he caught us together. And he'll be sold soon anyway. Scyrax only keeps very few boys on after they've reached sixteen."

Chattering cheerfully and seeming little effected by his raw bottom Sulis lead Marius through a maze of corridors to the kitchens. By the time these were reached Marius had learnt quite a bit about Scyrax's household and the likes and dislikes of his young companion. He had learnt among other things that; Felix the eunuch was a nasty cruel man always trying to get the boys into trouble; Alseus the Negro was very strong, a ferocious whipper of boys if required by Scyrax but otherwise, unless provoked, all right; if he was set to work in the kitchen Marius should try to get a job carrying dirty plates from the dining room, that way he would get lots of chances to thieve scraps and if he did get a chance, to try a piece of the cooks special honey and cinnamon pudding.

The kitchen when they reached it was very similar to the one in Marius's father's country villa but larger, busier and with more and prettier slave boys. Taking Marius by the hand Sulis wriggled and pushed his way through the milling crowd of boys and youths to where a fat red faced man was standing supervising the stuffing of a goose with olives and wild pomegranates.

Sulis stood respectfully silent waiting to be noticed.

"Well boy," the cook said eventually, "what do you want."

"Please Sir," Sulis's voice had a begging note to it, "we wondered if you could let us have something to eat Sir. We haven't had anything this morning."

"Well from what I heard you had a good supper last night - the best supper a little slut like you can get from his Master," the cook said chuckled at his own joke.

"I was a very lucky boy Sir," Sulis replied grinning, "but I'm hungry again now."

"For the same dish," the man laughed lifting the front of his tunic suggestively.

"If you wish Sir," Sulis grinned beginning to kneel down.

."No, no," the man said hastily, "the Master has a short way with any of us who enjoy one of his sluts without permission.. Come along with me now the pare of you and I'll give you some porridge and black bread to fill your stomachs."

A few minutes later the two naked boys were squatting in the corner of the room a large bowl of steaming porridge between then two large chunks of rye bread grasped in their hands.

They ate quickly, Marius because he had been half starved for more than a week, while Sulis had learnt early in his young life to fill his belly when the chance arose for as a slave he could not be sure when the next opportunity would arise.

"So there you are Sulis. I might have known you would be in the kitchen stuffing your belly."

Sulis twisted round and grinned up at Dictys who was standing looking down at the two smaller boys.

"I was just showing Mariullus where the kitchen was Dictys," he said. "I thought I ought to look after him."

"And get your head in the trough at the same time. I would have thought your bum was raw enough from last night without risking getting another hiding so soon."

"Want to look at it?" The younger boy asked and jumping to his feet he pushed his little boy's bottom out towards Dictys for him to inspect. Marius looking up from where he crouched on the floor could see that under the skimpy tunic that was his only clothing Dictys was stiff while Sulis's tiny _c_o_c_k_ was also standing at attention.

Dictys ran a finger tip gently along one of the livid welts that ribbed Sulis's rump.

"That must be sore," he remarked. "Crastus has sent me to put some ointment on Mariullus's bottom. He's given me a whole jar so there'll be some to spare for you."

"Thanks Dictys. I bet your bum sore as well after being with Scyrax."

"Well he's never very gentle with a boy."

"Did you take his whole _c_o_c_k_ into you?"

"Yes," Dictys sounded proud of his achievement. "Right to it's roots. I could feel his bush pressing against my bum."

" I wonder if I could manage it. It's very big. My jaws ached like anything."

"If he decides he wants you Sulis you'll have to take it."

"I bet it hurts the first time anyway. More than the cane I expect." "Much more," Dictys said soberly. "Much, much more. More than anything else you've ever had done to you. But if the Master wishes it you will have to suffer it and that's the end to it. Now Mariullus stand up."

Marius scrambled up and in his turn presented his bottom to the older boy. Soon he too was hard as Dictys worked the soothing ointment into the soreness where the plug had cruelly chafed his bottom. A few days previously he would have felt shamed and humiliated to be treated in that way and to be seen naked let alone with an erection. All pride and modesty had been stripped from him. He was no different than any of the dozens of other pretty slave brats who served and suffered in the house of Scyrax. Indeed it was common place there to see boys in a state of _s_e_x_ual excitement for one of the cruellest tyrannies practised by Scyrax was to forbid to them, at the time when they approached their most _s_e_x_ually active, any release of their urges except in his own service. The place was a hotbed of barely suppressed _s_e_x_uality as the boys talked and dreamt of _s_e_x_ but were forbidden it's practice unless selected to satisfy their Master's cruel lusts.

Marius lived in this heavily charged atmosphere for the next few weeks. The food was plentiful if plain, the work light although often tedious. Well rested and fed his body filled out once more and his skin and hair recovered the glow of health. As his condition improved so did his energy and spirits. Although Marius was not aware of it Scyrax, whom little escaped, observed with approval the lad with the pert well rounded bottom, the cheerful grin and the little prick that seemed almost constantly erect. Nobody knew better than Scyrax how much a stiff prick enhanced a boy's price on the auction block.

Despite his apparent cheerfulness Marius lived in fear of the cane and the lash. He was unlikely to forget witnessing the punishments inflicted on his first day in the house. Even so there were daily reminders as everyday before Scyrax dined a procession of sobbing boys were forced to expiate their faults however trivial bent over the flogging bench. But the lash and the bench were just a part of life. He feared them but like many boys he had a natural resilience and lightness of heart that allowed him to enjoy the moment whatever terrors haunted him.

He did all he could to ensure that his name was not among those read out by Felix from his dread punishment roll. He was to find however that neither obedience nor a careful performance of the tasks set him were sufficient to ensure a boy an unmarked bottom.

A grand dinner had been planned. The talk among the boys had been for more than a week of the host of guests summoned, the number and intricacy of the courses to be served, the jugglers, the acrobats, dancing boys and other entertainers. For two days Sulis, Marius and two other boys had been set to work polishing Scyrax's rich collection of silver plate. It had been boring work. Each item and there were dozens of them, plates, goblets, candlesticks, ewers, even silver tables had to be burnished to mirror like brightness by the boys using friction and a dry cloth alone. Now at midday on the third day all had been done except a single gigantic silver platter. It had Niobe grieving for her murdered sons and daughters engraved in the centre and chased in gold. Round her lay the unclothed bodies of her twelve slaughtered children, six boys and six girls all equally beautiful, portrayed in elegant but erotic detail. To one side stood the fearsome figures of Apollo and Artemis, their swords dripping with the gore of the murdered innocents, regarding their handiwork with obvious satisfaction. Sulis and Marius had carried this between them into the garden and in the shade of the pergola they knelt beside it whispering quietly as they worked. They knelt in the special way prescribed for slave boys in the house of Scyrax, knees wide apart feet pushed together behind them, bottoms pressed down to the floor, balls and _c_o_c_k_s exposed to view.

Sulis was chattering, as he did so increasingly, about Dictus, how Dictys fancied him, how he quite liked Dictys and what clever kind brave things Dictys had done, when there were the sound of footsteps and he suddenly fell silent and bent assiduously to his work. The footsteps stopped. A sweet cloying scent was in the air.

"What a lovely little boy, I haven't seen him before. Where have you been hiding him Scyrax you naughty man?" Marius did not recognise the voice it was high, affected and peculiarly _s_e_x_less. Marius stole a glance upwards. He saw the familiar bulk of Scyrax and standing very close to him a slim elegantly dressed young man hardly out of his teens with sleek blonde hair and a pale cold face it's pallor enhanced by the rouge that had been applied to the cheek bones.

"What Mariullus. I bought him three weeks or so ago. In a terrible state. You would have turned your nose up at the brat then but he's not too bad now I must say. He'll be sold next week and will turn me a nice profit I'm sure."

"You lucky man Scyrax. What a lovely little bottom the child's got. A really provocative little bum. So smooth and tight with such nice little dimples on either side. Why is it boys' bottoms seem to absolutely invite the cane. Do let me thrash the little darling."

"Now Maccius I've said the brat's to be sold next week. I don't want to put him on the block with his rump all raw. It'll spoil his price."

"That's typical of you Scyrax. You don't care about anything but money. You begrudge me the smallest little pleasure just because it'll knock a few sesterces off the price that you'll get for the little whore."

"But Maccius the boy's done nothing wrong," Scyrax protested unhappily.

"That'll make beating him all the more fun. But if you won't let me - well there it is. I don't know if I'll bother to stay for your stupid dinner after this. You obviously don't care about me really. I'll be off."

"Wait, wait," Scyrax pleaded urgently. "Let me think..... Well I suppose the auction is more than a week away and young flesh heals quickly and some men like a boy with a few marks of the cane on his bottom.... If I let you have him Maccius will you be really nice to me?"

"Scyrax you are an old dear... Grumpy on the surface but so nice and kind and generous underneath. I'll be nice to you straight away you lovely man." The youth through his arms round Scyrax's shoulders and lifted his face to the older man's. Scyrax kissed him hard on the lips. They stood for a moment embracing passionately. Scyrax's hand slipped up the back of the youth's thighs and lifting his short tunic squeezed his bottom. Then they broke apart and began to move off.

Scyrax glanced back and catching Marius's eye crooked his finger at him. Marius rose to his feet and padded after the two men his throat tight with fear.

The dining room was a large pillared chamber it's walls decorated with pictures of feasting and revelry. Low tables were ranked in a horse shoe shape down three sides of the room and couches were set round their outer edge leaving the centre of the room free for the jugglers and acrobats and other entertainers. Scyrax and Maccius shared a couch placed at the head of the range of tables. Marius sat miserably on the floor beside them trembling at the thought of the cane tearing his tender bottom On either side the guests lolled on their couches, chatting and laughing, as near naked serving boys carried round trays loaded with plates of black and white olives, dormice sprinkled with honey and poppy seed, hot sausages in beds of damsons and pomegranate seeds, meats cooked in double sauces, slices of the most delicious ham, oysters and mussels seasoned in fish sauce.

Other boys hurried round carrying pitchers out of which they poured sparkling Falernian (There is literary evidence that certain Roman wines including Falernian could be at least piquant presumably this was achieved by secondary fermentation although this is a matter of some controversy) or red Spanish wine poured over heated honey.

Each couch had it's own serving boy to wait on it's occupant. Dictys had been allocated to Scyrax's couch and either he had been tipped off by Sulis, or he had guessed from Marius's misery, that he was to be thrashed. He took every opportunity he dared to try to bring some comfort to the other boy. When serving Scyrax or Maccius he manoeuvred so that his bare thigh brushed against Marius's shoulder. When at rest he surreptitiously stretched out a hand to him under the cover of the couch touching him to show that he was not altogether alone or uncared for. Marius who was aware how Dictys risked his own hide in making these gestures, small though they were, was grateful for his kindness.

An orchestra played at one end of the room. The sound of lyres and flutes together with the deeper tones of cornets combined with the chatter of the guests to create an almost deafening din. Suddenly there was a clash of cymbals and all was silent. A tall heavily built man stripped to the waist and wearing only a pare of baggy striped trousers gathered at the ankle strode in leading by his hand a lithe dark skinned boy wearing only a tiny triangle of white cloth between his legs. The man bowed low to Scyrax. An assistant ran in and handed him a long ladder, holding it with one end resting on the floor the man signed to the boy to climb it.

While the lad did so the assistant set about the floor dozens of metre long iron spikes. Three sided they rested on their bases their sharpened tips pointing menacingly upwards. The boy had reached the top of the ladder. He caught hold of the top rung with both hands and began to raise his legs upwards. He was now standing on his hands at the top of the ladder the lamp light glistening on his dark oiled limbs. He raised one hand from the ladder. He spread his legs and reached out his arm, balancing himself on a single hand. The man sank to his knees and holding the bottom rung of the ladder began slowly to stand up right..

The assistant began to intersperse blazing torches on the floor among the fearsome spikes. There was complete silence apart from the laboured breathing of the man as he exerted his full strength to lift the ladder. The man now was upright the ladder held at waist level. He began to raise his hands. Slowly and painfully he brought his hands to shoulder level, the boy's body moving slightly as the ladder wobbled fractionally. The man paused. Then with a single smooth movement he raised his hands so that they were extended above his head. He paused again. The cymbals clashed once more and he removed one hand from the ladder.

Above him the boy brought his legs together and began to rotate his body by shifting his grip on the ladder from hand to hand. The cymbals clashed with increasing frequency as the boy turned more quickly. The guests began to take up the beat thumping their hand or goblets on the tables beside their couches.

Suddenly the boy bent double. He let go of the ladder and straightened, balanced for an instance his feet on the topmost rung. He did a back somersault and landed on both feet, unscathed in the centre of the iron spikes and blazing torches. The guests stamped and shouted their appreciation. The man and boy bowed low in acknowledgement.

The show though was not yet over. The assistant ran in and handed the man a blazing hoop and a long supple cane covered in plated leather. Holding out the fiery ring at arms length from his body the man snapped an order to the boy reinforcing it with a cut of the cane across his bare thigh. The lad did a series of forward and backward flips through the hoop. Faster and faster he went driven on by the sharp cuts from the cane. There was silence now except for the snap of the cane against naked flesh and the slap of the boy's bare feet on the marble floor.

Marius who rather prided himself on his own back flips watched fascinated, his own troubles momentarily forgotten. He thought he could do them just as well as the dark boy but perhaps not so fast. But then he had never tried doing them with a man with a cane driving him on.

Suddenly the man shouted and lifted the hoop above his head and the boy stood panting his body slick with sweat.

The room echoed with the shouts of applause. The orchestra added to the noise with blasts on cornets and trumpets and the clashing of the cymbals. Scyrax beckoned the man and boy to him. He threw a purse to the man and showed signs of wishing to have the boy, who was a pretty little thing, join him on the couch but Maccius objected so he popped a sweet meat in his mouth and pinched his bottom. The man spoke sharply to the boy and they backed away bowing and grinning.

A blast on the trumpets announced the arrival of the next course. Four youths carried a silver gilt table into the centre of the room. They were followed by four more carrying a stretcher on which rested the great platter on which Marius and Sulis had been working. On it lay a whole roast wild boar with a dozen piglets set about it. The cook followed carrying a carving knife with a blade as long as a sword's. He slit open the belly of the boar and dozens of blood sausages rolled out of it mixed with whole roast thrushes and black birds.

Serving boys hurried about bearing plates piled with meat or replenishing wine goblets. When all the guests had been served the orchestra began to play again and a crowd of delectable boys began a slow lascivious dance short skimpy tunics rising to show intriguing glimpses of golden roundness. Then a single chord was struck on the lyre. The boys froze as if in terror. The lights dimmed. A lute began to play a simple tune, simple but somehow sinister. From the back of the hall appeared first one and then another and then fully nine satyrs with cloven feet, goat like legs, bodies covered with matted coats of black shaggy hair out of which monstrous phalluses rose and heads with tiny horns sprouting from their fore heads. They advanced upon the cowering boys. The orchestra struck up a wild tune of wailing flutes and crowing trumpets as the boys fled before their brutish pursuers. Clothes were torn from young bodies as the satyrs tried to catch their prey. The boys desperate to escape flung themselves on their knees before the guests begging to be taken onto their couches. The guests laughing gave protection to those children they fancied kicking those they did not into the hands of the semi-human beasts. Soon there was not a guest who had not at least one trembling naked boy clinging to him for protection. It might be questioned though whether the fate these children were fleeing from would be different in any material respect to that they would ultimately experience at the hands of their protectors. The rest of the boys having nowhere else to run were ultimately overpowered by the monsters and dragged away wailing and screaming.

The lights went up again and once more the guests applauded wildly calling out their thanks to Scyrax for his generosity while kissing away the terrors of their young prizes. Serving boys singing sweetly brought in the next course. Plates piled high with all manner of fruit, elaborate cake soaked in honey, were proffered to the guests.

Maccius who now was lying with his head resting on Scyrax chest looked up into his face and whispered quietly to him. Scyrax smiled fondly down at the youth.. He nibbled at his ear and then kissed him hard on the lips.

"You have been good to me Maccius," he breathed, "and you will have the reward I promised."

"Dictys fetch the came."

A second or two later Dictys was back. He shot a pitying look at Marius as he proffered the cane to his master. It was a formidable object well designed to strike terror into the heart of any unhappy child who might be subject to it's cruel discipline. Four foot long and finely tapered so that it's tip would curl about a boy's upraised rump and bite deep into his defenceless flank.

Scyrax swung his feet to the floor and stood up. He took the cane and swung it experimentally. It's hiss sounded menacingly in Marius terrified mind.

"Here you are Maccius," Scyrax said cheerfully handing the rod to his young friend. "Show me how good a boy beater you are. The brat's rump is unmarked so it will be all your own work. Remember aim as if to strike about a foot beyond where his bum actually is. Stand up Mariullus and turn round"

Marius obeyed conscious that his _c_o_c_k_ despite his terror mysteriously stood erect.

"Now aim to get as many cuts along the crease of his bum here," Scyrax continued. Marius felt the man's finger move across his bottom indicating the area to be attacked. "It'll hurt most and longest."

"You can give him a dozen cuts eight on the rump and four on the back of the thighs."

Marius began to cry. He could not help it. Twelve cuts with that thing. Twice as many as Sulis had endured.

"Mariullus seems to be unhappy about something," Maccius remarked with a giggle.

"He'll cry a good deal louder when he feels the cane across his rump," Scyrax replied harshly.

"Get down over that table Mariullus and we'll soon give you something to cry about."

"Master," Marius sobbed, "please I haven't done anything wrong... Please." He knew in his heart there was no point in pleading but he could not help himself.

Scyrax clouted him hard on the side of the head. Marius staggered and loosing his balance fell to his knees.

"What's that got to do with it?" He laughed fiercely. "It is my wish that you should be beaten and that is the end of it. Get down and you know the rule stay down or it'll start all over again."

"Master I don't know if I can do it," Marius wailed from where he crouched on the floor. "It's the first time Master for me."

"Well, well the first time is it?" Scyrax said recovering his good humour. "All right then. I'll make it easy for you. Dictys will horse you. Now up you come boy." He bent over and taking hold off Marius by the arm pulled him to his feet.

"You see I do care about my boys," he continued ruffling his hair.

"Dictys come here and take that tunic off. I don't want it soiled if Mariullus wets himself."

Obediently Dictys pulled his tunic off over his head and dropped it to the floor. He too was hard. Turning his back on Marius he lent down so the younger boy could reach forward over his shoulders. Taking a firm hold of Marius's wrists he straightened and bending forward lifted the smaller boy's feet clear of the ground. Marius hung there feeling Dictys's smooth skin against his. His _c_o_c_k_ already stiff became rock hard and he wriggle so that it was pointing upwards along the older boy's back. Then he was still, waiting, knowing that at any moment Maccius would bring the cane slicing down across his defenceless rump, knowing that there was no chance of mercy or escape from the agony to come.

He tensed as he felt Maccius's hand lightly caress his rump.

"What a lovely little bottom you have my poor pet," the youth crooned in his high epicene voice, "so smooth and tender and the skin stretched all taught for the cane. It's terrible to think that soon it'll be all ripped and bloody. And it's so unfair. You've done nothing wrong have you my little one. You've been a good obedient child but I'm going to flog that delicious bottom of yours just the same. Just because I'll enjoy hurting you, scoring deep wheals across that sweet bottom, listening to you scream as I lay the stripes on, watching you writhe and kick as the cane tears the boy hide from your rump. No wonder you're crying knowing what is to be done to you."

"A beautiful boy," he remarked sliding his hand up Marius's back. A really lovely child, so ripe, so pretty, so vulnerable. The poor darling."

Marius felt the youth's breath against his shoulders and Maccius lips brushed the side of his neck just behind the ear.

"I am so sorry to do this to you my poor Mariullus but you see I enjoy hurting pretty little boys like you. Well I suppose we may as well begin the fun mayn't we."

Maccius straightened and took the cane from Scyrax. He laid it gently across Marius's rump carefully measuring his distance. He saw the boy's rump tense in fearful anticipation of the pain to come.

He raised the cane over his right shoulder. The chatter and the laughter of the guests quietened. An expectant hush fell on the room. This was broken by the rich urgent hiss of the cane as it sung through the air, the sharp crack of wood striking bare flesh, followed by a moments unearthly silence as Marius, all the air driven from his body by the pain, fought for breath. Then the boy screamed shrilly. It was the cry of a wounded animal. The shrill howl of some small animal in extremis. A rabbit or hare with it's hind legs shattered by the blast of a shotgun makes a similar cry. Amber fluid began to flood down the back of Dictys's legs. Marius had peed himself. His flogging had begun.

It is surprisingly difficult to lay the strokes of the cane with complete accuracy across the bottom of a boy. It may be that the rod in travelling through the air creates some peculiar aerodynamic effects that causes it to stray from it's intended path. On the other hand it could be that the excitement and emotional intensity of the moment effects the steadiness of hand of even the most experienced flogger of boys' rumps. Then again the boy himself even if tied or held down never remains completely still. He clenches his bum in anticipation of the impending cut, he writhes and twists under it's impact, jerking convulsively as the rod bites into his flesh. In any event, whichever of these explanations account for the phenomena, or whether indeed it is accounted for by a combination of two or all of them, it takes a cool head and some luck to place the stripes exactly where intended. So Maccius found on this occasion.

He was aiming, as Scyrax had advised him, for the tender area of Marius's body where his thighs ended and his bottom began. The first stroke fell somewhat above this point scoring a white line across the boy's taught flesh that soon darkened to deep red edged with purple. The second stroke was also high while the third fell across the very top of boy's thighs rather than his bottom. The third fourth and fifth were however better placed and Maccius might literally be described as having found the grove as he plied the cane with all his vigour and poor Marius howled and twisted under it's impact. The cane was a pliant one and it's tip curling round the boy's flanks nicked his flesh had quickly drew drops of blood. Now as the strokes began to overlap and intersect blood began to flow more freely down the back of Marius's thighs.

Scyrax signalled to Maccius to stop. He stepped forward to examine the damage done to Marius's rump. He pressed his finger tips hard into the welts raised by the cane ringing a further scream from the lips of the sobbing boy.

"That's enough just there," he said, "I don't want the brat permanently marked. Put three more across his bum higher up and the last four across the back of his thighs."

Maccius took his time inflicting these last few strokes, making each one count, ensuring that Marius felt each one to the full.

At last the flogging was over but not Marius's sufferings.

"You have done a good job on that Scyrax remarked," as he once more inspected the boy's raw and bleeding rump.

"Dictys take our little Mariullus round so that our guests can see what a slave brat's bum should look like after a thrashing."

Still hoisted on Dictys's back Marius was taken from couch to couch. All the guests were clearly excited by the spectacle of the child's bruised and bleeding bottom. Some wanted to kiss it better, pressing their lips to the torn skin. Others, less kindly, slapped and pinched it ringing fresh howls from the boy.

Only after a full circle of the room had been completed was Marius permitted to dismount from Dictys's back. There was a sucking sound as he slipped to theground breaking the seal between the two boys' bodies that sweat and urine had created.

Marius stood for a moment unsteadily on his feet. The hush that had fallen on the room during his flogging dissolved in a clatter of laughter and talk.

"Take him away," Scyrax commanded Dictus, "We have had our fun with him."