Sejanus 15
This is the fifteenth 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 was allowed little time for reflection. A sharp tug on the iron collar clamped round his neck jerked him forward as the German slave strode up the flight of marble steps dragging the three boys stumbling after him.
He found himself in a vast hall the brilliance of whose wall paintings and mosaics was only matched by their obscenity. Boys naked or near naked, whose flimsy clothing did not hide their excitement, frolicked with each other or with monstrously hung men. As they were marched further into the room the subtext of cruelty and humiliation became more explicit. Animals, birds and reptiles and strange creatures combining these and human features began to appear. Cyclops, one eyed giants that fed on human flesh leered from the walls and finally Atreus was shown preparing his dish of forbidden meats. Small alcoves were set along the sides of the hall all similarly decorated with curtains now looped back but ready to be lowered if the occupants felt the need for privacy.
The hall in the early evening was not crowded. The establishment was only beginning to gear itself up for the night ahead. At one end a boy played on the lyre and sang a song whose words belied the sweet clear purity of his voice.. In the centre a dozen near naked boys danced languidly obviously conserving their energies for later in the night. The only clients were a group of three men drinking wine and chatting together quietly. They seemed to be more interested in their wine and conversation than in anything else.
"How much for one of those little beauties Caratacus," one of the men called out.
"More you than you can pay Lord," the German replied sourly as he hustled the boys onward.
Beyond the hall was a large garden surrounded by a colonnade from which doors and passages led off into the interior of the villa. Caratacus lead the boys to one of these doors and knocked. Without waiting for an answer he pushed the door open.
"These are the new additions to our household then?" A women's voice enquired softly and Marius saw reclining on a couch at the far end of a lofty chamber a richly dressed woman whose fingers glittered with gems. Beside her on a low stool sat the man who had successfully bid for him at the slave market.
"Bring them in man and get those collars off them. How can I have a look at them when they're crowded together like that and where will they run away to here?" Impatience and amusement blended in her voice.
One by one the boys were paraded before her. The little blond beauty from the north with the golden yellow hair and the peaches and cream complexion, the exotic almond eyed child from the East and last of all Marius with his sleek brown body and dark golden hair; each different and each in his own way delectable. As each boy was brought forward the man seated beside her murmured the price he had paid for the child, the woman exclaimed at it's extortionate size, then gestured to the boy to turn round as narrow eyed she assessed the potential of his naked body. A short pause, a sharp order and the boy would be despatched to start earning his owners a profit.
Marius was the last one to be bought forward. The man murmured his price and the woman threw up her hands in amazement.
"Ninety five sesterces for a boy!" she exclaimed. "Are you mad Fabius. You're were buying a boy not a thorough bred horse. How are we to make our livings if you pay that sort of price for a boy. Do you want to ruin us? I'll go to the market myself next time."
"But Felicia," the man protested weakly, "he is a virgin. You have to pay extra for that."
"A virgin," the woman snorted, "I'll check that now."
Marius who was an intelligent boy and had been through this many times did not need to be told what to do next. He turned and spreading his legs and bent forward presenting his bottom for inspection. A finger probed him roughly and inevitably he hardened.
"Well he is a virgin," Felicia remarked grudgingly, "and he seems to be eager enough as well but we'll have to work him hard if we are to get a decent return on our money."
She paused in thought.
"First Nicias," she said speaking quietly. "The brat's made for him. He's one who'll pay for the privilege of breaking him in."
"Ganymede," she snapped and a lad of fourteen with his nipples gilded and his face heavily made up, cheeks rouged and eyes rimmed with kohl, stepped forward from a corner of the room in which he had been standing. He bowed deeply causing the tiny fringed length of cloth wound round his waist that was his only clothing to lift at the back and reveal a sweetly rounded boy's rump.
"Listen to me boy," Felicia continued, "take this brat to the pavilion at the end of the park where his screams won't disturb our other clients and see his ready for the Lord Nicias. And when I say ready I don't mean tarted up like a you, you filthy little whore, I mean waiting for him just as he is."
"But he's just been run through the streets here," Fabius protested "He's sweaty and dirty. At least get him cleaned up and sweet smelling."
"We're not selling Nicias the services of a well trained catamite," Felicia replied impatiently. "If we were we would never get the money back you paid for the brat let alone turn a profit for they're plentiful and cheap enough.. We're selling him the brat's childhood and he'll take it in blood and terror and pain. We present him with a child to enjoy, grubby and a bit smelly, not polished and smelling of cheap scent like a whore."
"You boy what's your name," she demanded of Marius.
"Please Mistress Mariullus Mistress."
"Well Mariullus you're going to be hurt more than ever before. I can see you've the marks of a caning on you but what'll be done to you tonight will hurt much more than the cane."
Marius overcome by a consciousness of his helplessness and remembering the cruel bite of the cane cracking across his tender bum began to whimper knuckling the tears from his eyes.
"You'll be hurt child whatever you do so it's no good you snivelling like that," the woman continued remorselessly, " but if you are an obedient boy, do as you're told and try hard to please you'll be hurt less than if you're silly and try to fight what is going to be done to you. Do you understand boy?"
"Yes Mistress," Marius whispered choking back his tears.
"I'm putting you in Ganymede's charge . He's got my authority to strap that pretty little bottom of yours and to strap it hard if you don't do as you're told."
"Ganymede see the brat gets something to eat. I don't want him fainting from hunger before Nicias even starts to enjoy him. Grease his bottom well because I want to keep any damage to a minimum. He won't repay his purchase price from one nights work let alone make us a decent return on our money," She glanced angrily at Fabius as she said this, "but otherwise leave him as he is. Now go."
Marius felt Ganymede's hand close about his and he found himself hurried from the room.
"Come on slut," the youth said squeezing Marius's sticky little hand once they were safely out of hearing of the woman, "it's not too bad. We've all been through it. You'll survive."
"Will it really hurt so much Ganymede?" Marius asked fearfully.
It did hurt a very great deal. Then Ganymede was holding his head cradled on his thighs stroking his hair and murmuring words of comfort.
"There stop now. It's over now.." But it wasn't.
There were more footsteps. A murmur of voices.
"Get him out of here. He's bleeding too much. He'll mess the place up..."
He was lifted and carried and then he found himself lying on his face, a cushion under his hips. Strong hands pulled his legs apart and held him. Fingers probed his soreness. Felicia was bending holding a needle and a length of silk thread and then more pain. Worse pain than anything he had suffered before.
Over the next week Marius's virgin boyhood was sold four times and three further times he was held down screaming while Felicia repaired the damage so that it could be sold again. The last time he began to scream as soon as they came to carry him to Felicia. That would have made no difference. The screams of a suffering slave brat were not reflected in the brothels Profit and Loss Account. What saved him was that the woman recognised that it was no longer possible to achieve a repair job that would convince even the most drunken of youthful patricians that Marius's bottom was any longer virgin territory. By then however his agonies had earned enough to cover and to show a little profit on his purchase price.
After this he became just another boy whore obliged to service any client of the establishment prepared and able to pay for his services. At first he simply hung round the main hall running errands and smiling invitingly at any customer whose eyes rested on him. Then he was set to work carrying food and wine to the tables. All these tasks were performed under the watchful eyes of Fabius or one of his assistants who constantly patrolled the building and who were quick to use the whip on the bottom or shoulders of any boy who showed a lack of commitment to his calling.
It was rare though for Marius to feel the touch of the whip. Now that the initial agony of his initiation was past he longed and sought desperately for that moment of wild release that he had experienced even at the hands of Nicias. His pretty face lithe slim body and energy made him popular with the brothels clients and attracted the attention of Felicia. She ordered that he should be trained as a dancer. It was then that his potential as a gymnast was noticed.
As a free boy he had a natural agility and physical confidence that had served him well. Now long hours of practice and vigorous applications of the cane for any lapses in concentration developed and honed those skills. Soon he was performing a small tumbling act. Wearing only a narrow loin cloth he would undertake a routine of cartwheels and back flips as the torch light glistened on his oiled and sweating body.
Months passed and the Antonine games approached. It was a time when Rome was crowded with visitors from the provinces keen to see the sights and enjoy the pleasures of the great city. It was a profitable time for the traders of Rome including the brothel keepers. But competition was keen and the proprietors of these establishments competed with each other in staging specialist performances to draw in the customers. Felicia and Fabius were engaged in considering what attractions they could lay on, on this occasion. Fabius had suggested something involving dogs but Felicia, as was often the case when the partners were discussing their business plans, had dismissed the idea contemptuously. Dogs she announced were old hat. Fabius, who knew his place, waited in silence to learn what, in their particular line of business, would be in fashion.
"Mariullus," said Felicia, "thoughtfully. He has more than repaid our original investment and he's turned into a good little tumbler. We might do something with him."
"He's very popular with the customers," Fabius remarked doubtfully, "and he's always keen and willing." Fabius knew that this latter statement was true from his own experience. He would be sorry he told himself to loose Mariullus.
"Like every other boy he'll loose his appeal as he gets older. The trick is to make the most money out of him while he's still attractive and I think we could lay something special on with a balancing bar and fire. He might even survive it for a bit so it could become almost a regular act. We'll start training him immediately. There's no time to loose.
After that Marius found that he was being made to train on the bar. Urged on by his trainer and motivated by frequent applications of the cane across his bare rump which followed any lapse in concentration or skill he quickly gained in proficiency. Indeed he took a pride in his performance and when at the end of a session he would do a back flip from the bar and stand panting his body aching from fatigue and his flesh smarting from the frequent flicks of the cane he would grin and wriggle in delight if his trainer or other onlookers praised him. He saw nothing sinister or frightening in these new exercises. They were simply a way of enhancing his existing act.
It was only on the first night of the games that he discovered what was really planned for him. He had been told that he was to perform for the first time in public on the bar that night. When he had entered the hall, his hands well coated in resin to give them extra grip, he had seen nothing to suggest what was to come.
The place was crowded and noisy all Rome, or that considerable part of it's male population that appreciated a good looking boy, seemed to be there. The bar raised perhaps a metre or so from the ground had been placed in the centre of the hall. Fabius stood at one end of it holding as usual a whip in his right hand. For some reason he was holding a lighted lamp in his other hand. He did odd things sometimes and Marius though nothing of it. Marius noticed that one of the ushers stood at the far end of the bar also holding a whip. It was the ushers job to wander about and see that all was going smoothly and the customers were getting what they wanted and they always carried whips to help them perform this task.
Fabius caught sight of Marius and beckoned to him. The boy ran to him eager to show off his new skills and excited by the thought of being the centre of so much attention. Fabius gestured him onto the bar. He ran to it's centre and poised there arms raised above his head the light gleaming on his well oiled limbs feeling the gaze of every man in the place focused on his near naked body. Then excitement turned to terror.
Fabius bent and touched the burning wick of the lamp to the floor. A sheet of flame leapt upwards. There was a gasp from the crowd Marius felt the heat scorching his bare legs. The floor beneath the bar and for a considerable area on either side of it appeared to be alight. He turned to run but saw Fabius standing at the end of the bar the whip held ready in his hand. He twisted round but the usher was barring his way at the other end. He hesitated and then howled as Fabius flicked him on the side of one bare thigh with the tip of his whip. "Come on boy dance" he shouted and raised his whip to strike again.
Marius knew that one stroke of the whip landed squarely across his shoulders would knock him off balance and that, while he might be able to recover his footing after just one, three or four cuts delivered in the same manner would inevitably send him tumbling from the bar into the flames below. These flames had fallen back somewhat from the first upwards blaze. They were burning now with a steady glow but the heat they gave out was still considerable and he knew he would not survive a fall into them. Nor would anyone help him, his current terror and the prospect of his death rolling and screaming in agony among the flames, simply served to entertain the brothel's clients, forming an exciting hors- d'oeuvre to the pleasures of the night.
"Dance," Fabius shouted and raised his whip again.
"Dance," shouted the men beating wine jugs on the tables. "Dance. Dance"
Fabius had his whip draw back behind his head. He was going to strike again. Marius took a deep breath and did a back flip. He kept his balance. The crowd shouted and stamped.
"Dance. Dance."
Fabius cracked his whip again and Marius danced. He did back flips, hand stands, and cart wheels as the whip cracked and the crowd roared their applause. The heat from the flames was intense. The blood thundered in his head, sweat poured off his body, his arms and legs ached with fatigue. His world became narrowed to the bar on which he stood, the square of flames beneath it and Fabius's cracking whip that drove him on. Now he was tiring fast. He knew he could not go on much longer. The strength was going from his arms. He had almost missed his footing once. If that happened again he would not have the strength to recover it.
Then suddenly the whip ceased to crack. There were groans and cheers from the crowd, some applauding Marius for his courage and skill, others expressing their disappointment that they had been robbed of the pleasure of watching the boy roast to death.
"Gentleman," Fabius shouted over the din, "the boy lives to perform again. You must come tomorrow to see if he survives a second night."
He turned away. Marius made his way unsteadily from the bar and collapsed panting on the floor at it's end exhausted.
He was roused by an all too familiar voice.
"It's little Mariullus. Look darling it's little Mariullus. He was one of my friends Scyraxs's boys and I always wanted to have some fun with him but the old meany wouldn't let me."
Maccius was standing over him with a friend whom Marius had never seen before, another epicene blond with cold reptilian eyes.
"Mariullus sweetest you must come along with us dear child. I've been so looking forward to seeing you again. You mustn't run away now. We'll have such fun with you."
Marius looked round desperately for escape but saw Fabius standing near by watching him. He knew a boy who refused the overtures of a client was certain to be soundly flogged. Wearily he pulled himself to his feet and urged on by frequent pats on his bottom by Maccius accompanied the two young men to a table.
Marius stood watching while Maccius and his friend settled themselves and called for wine.
"Sweetest boy," Maccius said, once the wine had arrived, patting the couch beside him, "do come and sit here beside me. We saw the end of your performance on the bar. It was so exciting. You were so brave and so determined not to fall in the flames and be burnt."
"Come here boy when I tell you," Maccius lent forward and taking Marius by the wrist pulled him roughly down on to the couch.
"I was just a little disappointed though that you didn't fall. I'm sure you'd scream so sweetly and you'd look so pretty throwing yourself about on the coals while you burnt. Still perhaps tomorrow. We'll be here tomorrow to see. Do you think you'll survive tomorrow my sweet?"
"Well you seem to have lost your tongue. Mariullus has lost his tongue. We must do something to help him recover it. Have you any idea sweetest how much it will hurt when you do burn?"
"Still no answer perhaps you don't know. Well then we'd better show you. Hadn't we?"
"Darling will you just hold my little friend Mariullus still while I show him how much fire hurts. Lets see now perhaps a flame applied to one of those lovely pert little nipples of his."
Maccius leaning forward picked up the oil lamp that burnt on the table while his friend grinning evilly rose from his own couch. Marius twisted away from Maccius. The other man was standing directly in front of him blocking his escape. Marius ducked and ran at his legs. He felt the man grab his arm but his grip slipped on the well oiled flesh. The man tumbled as the boy crashed into him at knee height and Marius was for the moment clear.
"Stop that boy. Stop him now," Maccius screamed behind him. Marius saw Fabius and two ushers moving forward to intercept him. Other men, customers of the brothel, stood up ready to join in the hunt. Marius knew he didn't have a chance but he had to run while he could. What else was there for him to do? Desperately he twisted and turned about the great hall dodging round couches, slipping under tables while the mob bayed at his heels. It couldn't last and it didn't.
He darted past a table where two men sat taking no part in the chase. As he passed one of the men reached out and caught him by the wrist. He pulled but this time there was no escape.
"Please Lord," he begged panting and tearful, "please let me go."
The man said nothing but slowly shook his head.