Peril, Bondage, David in Rome, Sostratus
DAVID 124
A NOTE from Sean Reid Scott HERE
DAVID IN ROME — Chapter one
“Did I see him? Yes. I saw him. I saw him many times. But I was not the first to see him. And I was not the last. Men can come and go, and the world grows smaller each day. At Ephesus, I met a man who I had seen but a month before in Athens. And now people cross the sea commonly in search of trade and knowledge. Yet this man, I tell you, could not cross the street without being seen, and so the fact that he was lost from the world of men is a wonder. No doubt many eyes hungered for him, and it was the slaver Sostratus who saw him, saw his worth, and somehow saw a way to subdue him.
“And so it was that bright summer morning, the ides of July, that I stopped to listen to the rat, Sostratus, as he finished peddling his slaves on the steps of the temple of Mars….”
“For I have saved the best… for last,” said Sostratus with an evil leer. He turned away from the crowd and motioned to his henchmen. “Bring him,” he said.
The six men drew their swords and opened the door to the cart. They braced themselves and held their swords at the ready. One of them hesitantly reached for something on the floor of the cart, and suddenly a large foot was thrust out, hitting him squarely in the face. He went rolling backwards, spitting teeth, and then fell unconscious, his sword clattering on the porch of the temple.
“Fools!” shouted Sostratus. “All of you together! Or you stand no chance!”
The five henchmen that were still standing took a deep breath and rushed in.
“Up!” one of them was heard to say. He kicked the cart’s silent occupant. “Get up!”
And then the cart shook and rocked violently. One of the men cried out. Bodies banged against the inner walls. The armed men cursed in three different languages. “Grab his leg!” one of the men shouted. “Caius! Grab his—” and that was cut short by his own “oof!”, and then there followed a chorus of “On top of him!” The rocking slowly diminished. Bodies slowly untangled themselves, and then one by one, Sostratus’ henchmen stepped down from the cart, exhausted and spent.
The crowd at the foot of the stairs of the temple of Mars held its breath, stepped forward as one, and then let loose a quiet gasp.
Four of the men held the tips of their swords to the neck of a massive, muscular man whose hands were bound behind his back and whose head was covered with a black, cloth bag, the drawstring of which was pulled lightly around his neck. The fifth man held a light chain that was attached to a metal ring locked around the base of the muscular giant’s prodigious genitals.
“Come forward, my pet,” said Sostratus.
The men led the big man forward between the center pillars. They untied his hands and gently pressed the points of their swords against the thick neck of the giant to make sure he knew that they could slit his throat in the blink of an eye should he decide to strike out. The man holding the chain pulled lightly. The cock ring was lined on the inside with sharp, needle-like teeth. It was a device that served both a utilitarian purpose and one of entertainment. The man could be pulled along by his cock and balls, and he would submit to the lead or his genitals would be yanked and bitten by the teeth of the cock ring. The ring was already unbearably tight. It pushed the big bull’s testicles forward and kept him in a constant semi-erect state. If he was purposely stimulated, his swelling cock would choke the precious little space between the teeth and his tender flesh. Just the weight of the iron ring itself was maddening; always pulling, always gripping, always forcing him to spread his thighs, always reminding him of what he had between his legs and that his sweet relief, the time and place of a painless, desperately desired sexual satisfaction was the whim of his future owner.
He was led between the pillars and heavy iron shackles were attached to his wrists. Stout chains were fastened to each pillar. Instead of two slaves chained by their collars, one to each pillar, there was now one giant with his arms out to his sides.
The crowd began to murmur excitedly. They had never seen such a man. His shoulders were huge, wide, and heavy. His chest was thick, and the pectoral muscles were great, plates of manly flesh. His arms were as thick as a normal man’s thigh. His waist was narrow and ridged with muscle. His thighs were massive.
Sostratus stepped forward carefully. Now that the huge man was safely chained between the pillars, the hood could come off, but just before Sostratus raised his hand to remove it, someone in the crowd called out, “Why do you cover his face? Is the brute ugly?”
“Oh no my friend,” said Sostratus. “It is to keep him docile. He cannot strike out at what he cannot see. Neither can he run.” He grabbed the top of the hood. “But he is not ugly. Behold.” And he pulled the hood off.
The crowd gasped. The young man was blinded by the sun. He took a few seconds to adjust to the bright sunlight, found Sostratus, and raised his right foot to kick him.
Sostratus stepped back quickly. “Ho, my pet! We cannot dance just now.”
The crowd laughed and then their murmuring grew louder. “Is he a god?” someone said.
“Hercules, as though come back to life,” said another.
“Hercules never looked like that,” said a woman, desire in her voice. “Apollo!”
“I would have him as Cupid,” said another woman, “whom the Greeks call Eros.”
“Citizens!” shouted Sostratus raising his hands to quiet them, “You can have him as anything you want! IF… the price is right.”
The crowd was too stunned by the young man’s beauty. His hair was black and thick, tousled by the removal of the hood. His features were sharp and strong, full of straight lines in the nose and jaw. His square jaw was set in a grimace of anger and his eyes were narrowed and focused on Sostratus with a deadly hatred.
“Have you ever,” Sostratus shouted with great ceremony, “seen such a young god! My friends, the stories I could tell you. He is truly a rare—”
“Can I exchange these two I just bought for him?” someone shouted, and the crowd laughed.
“No my friend!” shouted Sostratus. “Because he is worth ten! A hundred!” He took a cautious step closer. “Tell me…” His voice quieted. “…what does he lack? Beauty? Men and women fought to the death to spend a night in his bed.”
The young man rolled his eyes.
“It is said that one night with him, and you can have no other, for to be held by those arms, to feel the warmth of… that there… between your legs, to see him look at you with desire and feel his body move against yours….”
The crowd listened intently.
“You cannot see from where you are,” Sostratus shouted, “but his eyes are like jewels, the color of the sky. You cannot tell, but his hair is soft and thick. You cannot feel, but his skin is smooth, and yet his chest sports a manly pelt that is a playground for your fingers and lips. Your hands could never quench their thirst for the warmth and suppleness of his flesh. Look upon the statues of the gods in the Forum. See the titanic legs, the brawny chests, the massive arms and ask yourself if he is not a living rival, to both their beauty and their strength.”
“Have a care, Sostratus!” someone shouted. “The gods do not take kindly to mortal comparison.”
“I do not challenge or defy the gods; I fervently thank them. I have left many an offering at the temple of Jupiter in thanks for the gods favoring me with such a catch, a catch that comes once in a lifetime, a sight that comes once in a lifetime! And so one of you too will give thanks, if you are the lucky bidder. You there. Speak the truth. Is he not the most beautiful man you have ever seen?”
The woman smiled and sighed. “Oh, yes.”
“Imagine having this at your beck and call. He is a feast of beauty, for the eyes… and for the body. Yet he has more.”
The crowd was silent.
“Strength,” continued Sostratus. “Look at the width of those shoulders. Look at that chest. Look at those arms! From where I stand I can see a wide back; proud, strong buttocks, and hands that can crush stone… or an enemy’s neck.”
An excited murmur went through the crowd.
“Passion? Look there,” he said as he pointed his finger towards the young man’s cock. “I have held it in my hands. I have carresed it. I have caused it to swell.” He stepped closer and pushed the tip of his finger under the man’s cock and lifted it. “The sheer weight of it makes the heart flutter.”
The young man jerked his hips away defiantly.
“And,” Sostratus continued, “he is incredibly, uncontrollably sensitive. So much so, that he hates to be touched. It is erotic agony to him.” Sostratus leaned sideways and carefully ran his hand over a hairy pec. The big man backed away, towards his left, letting go of the slack of the chain he held in his right hand so that he could escape the shameful touch of his captor. Sostratus smiled and stepped closer, being careful to keep distance from the giant’s leg. He knew from experience, that the big man’s intent was to lure him close enough so that he could deliver a swift kick and send him tumbling down the stairs. “So you see?” Sostratus shouted as he took one step closer. “Chain him! And torture him with but a silken touch until he shudders. Find his most tender spots and raise within him a fever he cannot quench without your say.” He turned to face the beautiful, young man. “For I have included a collar, which he wears now proudly, and your causing his body to feel desire will also cause him agony. He will be forced to fight what he most desperately desires. And you will cause him to moan in pleasure… and in pain.”
“I see no collar,” a man shouted.
“But lo,” said Sostratus as he pointed to the iron cock ring. “Did you not see the leash earlier?”
The big man’s face reddened.
“It is hinged and locked, and the inside is lined with sharp iron teeth. He cannot remove it. He cannot forget what grips that trophy between his legs, and you have but to attach a chain, like this, and he will follow you like a dog. And if he disobeys? I have seen a sharp yank reduce him to tears.” He turned to the big man, who hung his handsome face in shame.
“We can inscribe our name on it!” someone shouted, and the crowd laughed.
“IF FOUND RETURN TO…!” someone yelled.
“PROPERTY OF…!” The laughter continued.
“Yes! Yes!” shouted Sostratus, “or have one made of gold, or of silver… for when you have guests in the house, and you wear your finest.” He turned to face his captive. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you my pet?”
The young man spat in Sostratus’ eye.
The crowd gasped.
The young man balanced himself on one leg and swung the other towards his momentarily blinded captor.
Sostratus teetered from the glancing blow, his arms windmilling. He regained his balance and eventually his composure, deftly wiped the spit from his eye, adjusted his toga with an air of dignity, and then, with his back to the crowd, he muttered to his captive: “I deserved that… for my carelessness. But I’ll have you whipped before I hand you over.”
The big man riveted his gaze on the slaver.
Sostratus turned to the crowd, smiling. “Spirit? …he lacks not!”
The crowd laughed.
“Is he mute?” someone shouted.
“No, but he speaks a barbarian language. Latin eludes him, as does—”
The big man whispered, “Te necabo, Sostrate.” (I will kill you, Sostratus.)
Sostratus froze. He had never heard the man speak Latin. He turned to face his bound prize, amazed. “At… at least…” he lied nervously, “I… I’ve never heard him speak… Latin.” He turned to face the crowd. “But who can say what wonders and treasures will you uncover when he is yours, my friends?”
“Where is he from?” someone shouted.
“I found him slaving at the Great Library at Alexandria, but he is obviously no Egyptian. He will not say or does not know. Some say Gaul. Some say Aquitania. Some say Celtia. But he is fair of skin, and fair of face, is he not?”
“He looks expensive to feed!” shouted a man.
“Ah!” said Sostratus as he held up a finger. “But not when you realize that he can do the work of three!”
The people listened.
“And in good faith, my friends, you look upon him as a common slave. Nay! For what you have here is a wonder.” His smile turned into a leer. “One of you will pay for him today, but think upon this… how many will pay you… for him?”
“Sell him?” someone shouted. “Slaves don’t—”
“No, my friend! Not sell him…” Sostratus smiled and raised one eyebrow. “…rent him!”
The crowd was silent.
“Yes, that’s right. When wine-filled revelers fill the streets, who will have a young god to service the women? And the men! Who will have someone with a luscious, powerful staff, fantastically muscled body, and the face of a god to be chained and used for their drunken pleasure? If your tax collector be inclined, what can you offer him when he visits? What can you charge your neighbors for his services? Who will be your loyal customers? In what short amount of time shall you regain what you will spend today? He will comply; he knows that he could have his hands bound behind him and his “collar” and “leash” pulled up hard and tied to the ceiling rafters. After a sleepless night, standing in pain, you can command him to do anything. Anything.” Sostratus looked at the iron cock ring. He raised his gaze from the man’s loins and looked up at the handsome face with contempt. He made a slight movement as though wiping something near his eye. He said loudly, facing his captive: “He’d make a good whore.”
The man’s face turned red, this time not from shame, but from rage. He raised his gaze slightly. If looks could kill, he would have there and then been a murderer.
“Or!” Sostratus continued, turning back to the crowd, “See! Again, a pardon, but you do not think. He looks as strong as an ox…” he paused for effect, “…make him work like an ox!”
The young man’s vicious glare faltered for a moment. He looked away, fearful.
Sostratus turned and smiled at him, and then turned back to the crowd. “Those shoulders can take a yoke! Those thighs can pull a plow!” He turned again to the muscled man. “You have but to pull on his reins!”
With hatred and fury, the young god silently mouthed the words: “Te necabo. Iuro, te necabo.”
“What shall you bid!?”
The crowd grew excited.
“Who shall give me 5000 denarii?”
“I will!” someone shouted.
“6000?”
“I will!”
Sostratus smiled. His accomplices, disguised as bidding citizens, were working the price up nicely. Now the real bidding would start. “Come now. Who will give me 7000?”
There was a pause, and then a man shouted, “I.”
“Do I hear now 8000?”
“For one slave?” a woman said loudly.
“No good lady! For this!” and he pointed to the young man’s cock. “And this!” He pointed to the handsome face. “And this!” He swept his hand from head to toe. “This is not a man, this is a young god! In his prime! Will you let someone be off with him and then dream for the rest of your life what you could have had? Will you wonder what work and pleasure he will be giving someone else?”
“8000!” someone shouted.
“You shall forever tell of the day you saw a man of such beauty. Of the day you saw a man of such size and strength as to vanquish any in the Coliseum. But one of you will see that every day!”
“I will give you 8000 and my ox!” someone else shouted.
“His shaft is like warm silk. When you take a slave to your bed for humiliation, they know it is their fate. How much more satisfying to shame a young god!”
“9000!”
Sostratus added to the frenzy: “How much can you profit by hiring him out as a stud, as one hires a bull to breed? What price will you bargain when his male children are sold?”
“I’ll give you 9100!”
“Make him battle for his life, or his dinner, or a night without his “collar” chained to the rafters. You’ll have your own gladiator! Your own wrestler! Your own champion! Who will give me 9500?”
“You can buy six good slaves for that amount!”
“Yes!” shouted Sostratus. “Or one young god!”
“I can bring you 9500 by sundown tomorrow,” someone called out.
“By sundown tomorrow,” Sostratus called back, “he will have been for one day the property of someone who pays me today! Someone who pays me 9500 denarii.”
“9500,” a man called out.
“9600,” another called out.
“9700,” a woman called out.
Sostratus sensed the bidding frenzy dying. He raised his hand high into the air. “And when I lower my hand, he will be the property of the one who will give me 10,000, for with that I hand over his leash and key!”
The crowd fidgeted. A small fortune. The price of maybe ten slaves for this one.
“So! Then if not 10,000, my young god belongs to—”
“10,000!” someone shouted.
“Sold!”
The crowd cheered, and as their collective shout died down it seemed to rise up again, but this time in the guise of the thunder of horse’s hoofs. Four chariots barreled into the crowd and stopped at the foot of the stairs. Four soldiers armed with rope, pikes, and swords followed a centurion to the foot of the stairs.
“Why do soldiers come here?” Sostratus asked.
“Your auction is over, slaver,” said the centurion as he climbed the stairs.
“Why?”
“Because you have no more merchandise,” he growled.
“I have him!”
“No you don’t.”
“He is mine! I yet own him until the good man there pays me my money. I will not listen to what you say. You speak nonsense.”
“This should speak clearly enough.” He casually threw a small burlap bag to the top of the stairs. It opened and 20,000 denarii in gold spilled onto the porch.
Sostratus raised his hands in amazement and began to bend down to gather his gold.
“Wait!” said the soldier as he drew his sword. “Before you even touch it… give me the key and the leash.”
Sostratus threw both at him and then crouched down, hurriedly gathering up the coins.
The soldier went to the huge man and laid the point of his sword against his belly. He motioned with his head to one of the other soldiers and the other one tied the leash around the small loop in the cock ring. Sostratus’ henchmen disengaged the shackles from the huge arms.
“Tie his hands behind him,” ordered the soldier.
“Who now owns him?” a man asked, more curious to know who could afford 20,000 denarii on a whim.
“That is no concern of yours,” replied the soldier. He gazed with awe into the face of the young man. “Come!” he ordered. “Your adventure is just beginning.”
[See also: David 124 redux. Render HERE.]
2004