Citicus

CITICUS: A TALE OF OLD ROME

by Bill Smith

[It is important to get feedback from readers. Please forward your comments pro or con to Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com). It is very much appreciated and leads to more stories being posted.]

This story takes place on an estate about 55 miles north of the city of Rome in 130 A.D., owned by a prominent senator of the time. Julianus Citicus was, like many of his colleagues, fantastically wealthy from extensive business investments in conquered lands and could easily afford the vast estate and the many slaves needed to operate it.

Part I: A Tour of the Estate

My owner clapped his hands and instantly the slave overseer appeared, bowing deeply before sinking to his knees with his head lowered as much as his thick collar would allow - the normal position for any of Citicus' slaves when called before his master.

"Have the wide litter prepared for my use, Overseer," Citicus snapped in the uncompromising commanding tone he always used with his slaves, a style ingrained among Roman masters, "and be quick about it. I'll be touring this estate's operations today and want to be comfortable doing it - as much as this blasted heat will allow!"

"Yes, Master," the overseer answered humbly. "The litter will be at the portal just as soon as we can get the bearers chained to their stations."

"And, Overseer, I'll be taking the twins with me today so make sure they are properly prepared."

"Yes, Master. That will be no problem as I just finished overseeing their morning cleansing and body shave. Should they be clothed?"

"For a tour of my holdings?" Citicus snorted. "Certainly not! Besides," he chuckled to himself, "even a tiny loincloth would be in the way for earning their ride in the litter."

"Yes, master," the overseer responded with a slight smile.

Within minutes, the wide, heavy litter arrived at the front portal. It was built for spectacle: constructed of polished locust from the Germanic forests, it featured carrier beams that could be inserted at the base, roof, or midline of the passenger compartment allowing the rider to be carried above the crowd (for display or parade), close to the street (for shopping or commuting), or mid- level (for best viewing the bearers). The interior was upholstered in fine wool dyed a rich red highlighted by damask pillows.

But the extravagance of the litter itself was minuscule compared to the ten breathtakingly handsome bearers, all of the same height and weight (about 5'8", tall for their day), all possessing amazingly muscular beautifully-defined hairless physiques, and each leashed by their wide copper collars to the litter's rails by a very short chain, thereby forcing them to their knees when the litter was at rest. In addition to their almost identical physiques, the handsome bearers were deliberately picked to represent all shades of human hide, from the darkest black with jet-black eyes to a snowy white with green eyes. But they all had in common extraordinary sexual endowment, meeting Citicus' minimum criterion for his litter bearers: circumcised pricks at least 10" in length and 6" in circumference when flaccid and balls the size of fresh peaches. It was the chief steward's responsibility to make sure they were kept spotlessly clean, odor free, and hairless below their necks as well as making sure they were almost always at least semi-erect and in sexual need, a feat the steward accomplished rather easily by making sure the slaves were never allowed any sexual outlets outside their master's or his direct command.

Rigorously trained, each bearer knelt with his head held rigidly erect from his tall neck collar but his eyes properly lowered, his knees spread wide apart, and with his massively developed chest thrust out. As usual, each bearer wore only a scanty loincloth designed to best display the slave's magnificent body, including his huge sexual organs usually hard and dripping from the slave's unfulfilled sexual needs.

THE GREEK TWINS:

The twins were already in the litter, crouching toward one end until the master had settled himself on the beautiful, soft wool. Citicus had purchased them at an estate sale three years ago while visiting Athens on business. A local brothel owner had died suddenly and his stock had been auctioned off immediately. Citicus was able to buy up the pair of identical twins, then about 20 years old, for an amazingly low price, considering the quality of the merchandise. Absolutely identical in appearance, the boys were startlingly handsome: only about 5' 4" tall but with well exercised, very muscular stocky bodies and creamy white flawless skin highlighted by dark brown rather straight hair removed everywhere but from their head up. Although now 23 years old, their complete body shave and flawless skin, tanned evenly since they were rarely clothed, made them appear no older that 16 or 17, although their portentous sexual equipment certainly was seldom found on any boys of that tender age.

Citicus, attracted to their natural Greek beauty, had kept them relatively "unfitted." Other than their brass slave collars, the pair sported no rings, bands, bracelets, or shackles anywhere. But Citicus, unlike some more lenient Roman slave-holders of the time, felt the standard slave collar clearly marked his property for what they were - slaves, and served, at the very least, as a constant reminder to those wearing it that they were his property. Consequently, he had fitted all his slaves with slave collars of one type or another.

The twins were the product of a slave-breeding farm located on the Greek island of Delos, home of one of Rome's largest transshipment depots for slaves. Due to its proximity to this depot, it was easy to market the stud-farm's products for top price when they reached maturity. On the farm, the boys had been brought up in a slave nursery and, like the others in the nursery, never really knew exactly who their mother or father had been, although they assumed they were among the adult breeding stock kept there. But their unusual good looks, small compact bodies, and large sexual organs told them their particular breeding had been carefully supervised.

Trained from birth to a life of servitude, the twins were first sold to a wealthy Greek shipping merchant at the age of 15 as "dining room attendants" for his yacht but ended up mainly as display objects and sexual playthings. The Greek merchant had quickly become bored with their naivete and traded them in for considerably older and much more experienced slaves at one of the largest and most prominent slave dealers in Athens - there the Greek merchant could choose from thousands of slaves in that the agency proudly boosted they had over 2500 slaves in their holding pens at any given time.

It wasn't long until the twins were sold to the owner of one of Athen's largest male brothels. There, their real training had begun. Greek preferences meant most male brothels were quite popular and the twins were just two of the hundreds and hundreds of carefully selected and trained slaves available for customer usage. Exercised daily to attain maximum body attraction and potential, their training included full body hygiene and grooming instruction as well as every possible technique insuring their appeal within the clientele of the house. Within weeks, the twins had established a solid reputation as always willing, well trained, and totally satisfying pleasure providers with remarkable endurance. They quickly proved to be an excellent investment despite the high taxes imposed on slave sales by the provincial government, an important source of revenue for the Roman governors.

With the death of the brothel owner, the twins, along with all the other properties owned by the brothel, were shipped to Rome's huge slave markets where it was thought they would fetch the highest prices due to the constant demand for young, attractive, well-trained and very experienced sex slaves. It was in those markets where Citicus first ran across them.

Citicus, after a close personal inspection in the small alcove allowed for such purposes by Roman slave dealers, found the boys willing and eager, certainly well trained after their time in the Greek brothel, and totally acclimated to their born heritage as an owned object. His only objection was to the breeding farm's rather archaic brand on their right butt checks, but at least the brand had been burnt in neatly and was well centered. (Branding of slaves in Rome in Citicus' time was generally restricted to runaway slaves and common criminals in that the highly visible scars often lowered market value of the property.) Despite their background in the brothel, the twins appeared young, fresh and almost virginal - extremely rare in brothel slaves who usually looked old and haggard by their mid-twenties.

Citicus paid full price for the boys, rather than risk a losing bid at an open auction, and had enjoyed them ever since. If anything, they looked even younger than when he first purchased them - probably due to the strict diet and exercise regime he prescribed for them, the shaving of all bodily hair, and restricting their sexual duties to his satisfaction alone - a considerable reduction from their brothel days where another customer was always waiting.

THE LITTER BEARERS:

Before Citicus arrived at the litter, most of the ten slave bearers sneaked a look at the nude Greek twins sprawled among the litter's cushions. The bearers had not been "used" for any entertainments for the past several nights and the sight of the Greek boys, obviously installed for the Master's personal pleasure as he rode around the grounds, gave rise to wild fantasies to each and every one of the litter bearers: to be a master with slave boys fulfilling his every need. As slaves themselves, they could, of course, only dream - for their lives were destined for service, not being served in any way. The huge gap between being owned and being the owner precluded any feelings of jealousy.

Instead, they took a perverse pride in being owned by such an all-powerful personage who could, and would, use them just as he used the Greek twins - their bodies for his use and pleasure at any time. Within minutes, their bodies would be strained to the limit to support Citicus and his Greek twins in the heavy, wide litter. No thought would be given to their growing fatigue, their aching muscles, their lungs gasping for air, the sweat running down their rumps, the sharp and never ending pain, as the master's whip bore across their backs and chests. No more thought than whether the Greek twins wanted to be fucked today or not, or whether they really enjoyed shallowing and sucking Citicus' prick as he viewed his estate holdings. A slave couldn't afford desires, wants, feelings - his job was to serve his master and find enjoyment in that task - whether that was taking the whip across one's back, gasping for air because the master wanted to go faster, or taking a prick up your ass no matter how much it hurt and then thanking your master for "using" you. A slave's role was to serve, period, and be grateful his owner saw fit to use him.

As soon as Citicus had settled in, he clapped his hands lightly and the heavy litter was lifted almost fluidly onto the shoulders of the ten bearers in one coordinated movement accompanied by well muffled groans as their bodies acclimated to the load. Every muscle in their massive backs displayed the new tension. Citicus shifted to one side of the wide litter and languidly looked out at the body of the bearer chained closest to him: first his straining shoulders, then his bulging pectorals, then his rigid abdominal muscles, and finally his taut butt and muscular thighs.

"Bred or bought, slave?" Citicus sharply asked the straining litter bearer he was looking at.

"Master?" the slave gasped out humbly, reflecting he didn't understand the question.

"Were you spawned on one of my breeding farms, or did I buy you somewhere?" Citicus irritably shot back.

"You bought me, Master," the slave answered respectfully.

"Where, slave?" Citicus shot back.

"At the slave market in Rome near the Forum, Master," the slave answered.

"Then where were you raised, slave?" Citicus asked.

"I think it was called Mauretania, Master," the slave answered without emotion, clearly now unable to remember much of anything about his life in northern Africa before his position now as owned property.

"A barbarous place! How grateful you must be to now enjoy Rome's civilizing system of slavery which offers you a clearly defined purpose to your life," Citicus responded.

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master," the slave answered in a strained voice, reflecting the heavy weight bearing down on his shoulders, but Citicus had lost interest in the litter bearer and moved his hand into the hair of one of the Greek twins crouched in readiness on the litter itself.

"Forward, 40 gait," Citicus commanded. The litter glided into the exhausting pace commanded, i.e., 40 long steps per minute, each bearer in exact synchronization with his nine mates. Citicus glanced over at the litter slave he had been looking at - the boy, now breathing heavily, was totally focused on keeping the exacting pace commanded. Citicus smiled that his command has been honored and tugged on one of his Greek slave's hair.

"You," he softly said as the Greek boy looked up in response, "get to work," he said pointing between his own legs. The Greek gently removed his master's only garment, a loose fitting cincture underneath his toga, and, in one gulp, swallowed his master's shaft down to the base. As the organ swelled in response, the boy's throat worked hard swallowing the entire length down his throat without gagging and begin to work his throat muscles to gently massage his master's tool.

"And you," Citicus directed the other twin, "crawl up here where I can play with your tits."

"Yes, master," the twin said humbly, as he crawled around his brother and got into the best position to offer his chest up for his master's usage. Both of the boy's tits, although un-ringed to date, had been worked on over the years to where they were permanently swollen. Now they were large and protrusive nibs against large dark brown circles - almost feminine, except for the massive muscular development they were positioned on.

"I may ring you yet, boy, but it's nice to feel tits with nothing in the way," Citicus murmured as he squeezed and rubbed the boy's swollen tits with both of his hands. The Greek slave shivered as the heavy massage continued on the sensitized nipples, but remembered to thrust his chest out for his master's convenience as he'd been trained. The strangely painful but at the same time pleasurable phenomenon overwhelmed his body as a result of his master's manipulations and he closed his eyes as his body shuddered in response. His penis swelled and his balls enlarged as the stimulation continued.

"Gait, 50," Citicus commanded. The litter lurched ahead and the panting slaves' breathing took on audible gasps as the sweat streamed into their eyes, down past their heavy collars into every valley and crevice in their body, and finally dampened the small but brightly colored loin cloths that barely covered their massive manhood and totally exposed their muscled rumps. Citicus studied the litter slaves in their struggles: their straining backs, shoulder muscles well outlined in tension from the heavy load, their gasping lungs, and the rivulets of sweat coating their all but naked bodies. The matched, extremely muscular physiques and the abundant manhood prominently outlined by the tight wet loin cloths pleased him in that it once again reminded him of his absolute power over their bodies.

"Gait, 60," he snapped, and the slaves once again increased the pace dramatically. But after only a short while at this horrific pace, the gasping turned to desperation and the slaves' eyes, blinded with sweat, took on a wild, panicked look that pleased him.

He would have to take the whip to the bearers if the pace was to be continued but that would require giving up feeling the Greek boy at his disposal in the litter itself. So be it. He could always have his slave overseer whip the bearers later if they dared slow the pace. Happily, his overseer's beatings were always so severe they became rather permanent instruments of instruction - the type slaves never forgot. But it took away the fun of beating the slaves personally - and slaves always seemed to respond best to their owner beating them, even if it wasn't as thorough and memorable as their overseer's.

Citicus arched his back as the Greek sucking away accomplished his purpose. Citicus had a massive ejaculation down the boy's throat. The slave struggled to swallow every drop while continuing to squeeze his master's shaft as hard as he could with his throat muscles. When the last drop had been extracted, the Greek twin carefully licked Citicus clean and looked up for instructions before withdrawing from the shrinking shaft.

"Now that I've got your brother all ready for you," Citicus laughed as he squeezed the swollen shaft of his twin, "I'm going to let you loosen his ass up a bit, but no shooting off - you hear, boy - just shaft him all the way until I order you to stop. Your brother needs to be fucked regularly just like you do, and there's no reason you can't at least loosen him up a bit while I recover my strength," he laughed.

Citicus let lose of the twin's tits with the sharp command, "On your back, boy, with your legs up over your head. Your brother's going to fuck you for a while."

"Yes, Master," the twin said as he plopped on his back and swiftly lifted both legs over his shoulders to best expose his asshole. His brother just as swiftly climbed atop him and prepared to enter the hole with his swollen prick.

"Can you see, Master?" the Greek asked before entering, knowing he was there to entertain his master, not fulfill any needs of his own.

"Move him a little to the right, slave," Citicus answered and the move was instantly made.

"Go to it, boy," Citicus commanded.

The slave lunged with force and his large shaft sunk as far as possible into his brother's chute in one movement.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh," the brother groaned as he tried to accommodate the rectal invasion as gracefully as possible. But, his brother gave him little time to adjust and the shaft began slowly pumping in and out of his tight chute almost immediately.

"Faster, boy, but don't shoot on me," Citicus ordered and the fucking speeded up almost immediately.

"Get it in all the way, slave," Citicus commanded as he whacked the slave's ass, leaving a large red mark on the Greek. "And don't let up on that pace, either," he said, backhanding another welt onto the slave's ass.

As the twins entertained him, Citicus took up his litter whip.

"Faster, you lazy bastards," Citicus shouted as the litter bearers struggled to maintain the intense pace. He lashed out at any part of their body he could reach. It seemed to help - the pace, if anything, increased, despite the moaning now mixed in with sharp gasps as they responded to their shoulders and rumps being bruised and torn by their master's dreaded knotted whip. Satisfied for awhile, Citicus leaned back in his litter and watched the Greek twins continue to fuck each other.

VISITING THE FARM OPERATIONS:

In a few minutes, they arrived at the storage and thrashing center for Citicus' farm operations, one of the lantifundas prominent at the time among wealthy Roman landowners. There, thousands of slaves, all collared, clad in a few rags is anything at all, and with their feet manacled together by an 18" chain, labored under the close scrutiny of numerous, perhaps overzealous overseers - slaves themselves who knew the slightest leniency on their part would lead to instant reassignment to the heavy labor ranks. Most of the farm slaves had once been free men in foreign lands before their capture but, increasingly, those born into slavery were joining their ranks.

Each overseer carried a long steel-tipped whip which seemed to be in constant motion, and the screams and groans of the chained slaves were never ceasing as the slaves were "motivated" to give everything they had for the profit of their master.

Upon seeing the elaborate litter of their owner, all slaves, overseers included, fell to their knees and bowed in total subservience.

Citicus ordered the naked Greek twins to accompany him in his exit from the litter expertly lowered by his team of sweat-soaked, heaving litter bearers. He then ordered the twins to get on their hands and knees with rumps pressed tightly together to serve as his chair.

Once seated comfortably atop his Greek slaves, he looked back at the gasping litter bearers, now kneeling - the only position allowed by their short neck leashes once the litter had been lowered.

"Don't let my presence interfere with the work at hand," Citicus said pointedly to the slave overseers, "or you'll soon find yourself manacled in their place," nodding to the work slaves all with their foreheads pressed into the dirt .

"Up, slaves," the overseers said almost in unison, "and get back to work." The whips lashed across the closest backs and a few woeful screams correlated with raw rump fresh being lacerated. Leg chains rattled above the moans as more whips cracked over the slaves' heads. It was like a whole machine grinding into action.

Bales of hay were lifted into storage on sweating backs and straining legs; others, yoked like oxen to turnstiles, were powering the grinding of millet used in feeding the slaves and other livestock; still others, harnessed to farm wagons four and sometimes eight to a team, struggled to pull the heavily loaded wagons; while hundreds of others were moving huge rocks out of newly developed fields while still others dug foundations for the construction of additional buildings.

All were working "under the whip," i.e., under constant surveillance of overseers who never hesitated to lash into their hide to extract more work. As time wore on throughout the long days, whip usage increased to compensate for the exhausted bodies that tended to slow down until prompted to renewed effort with ever more pain.

No slave present thought his life would ever be different under their Roman masters and all memories of a previous life had long been removed by the whip. But those pain-wracked eyes enjoyed anything to break the monotony of their unceasing work. The sight of their owner casually sitting on the backs of two amazingly beautiful Greek pleasure slaves who only moments before had been fucking each other for his amusement added to the awe and respect of he who owned them body and soul. And all enjoyed the pure spectacle of his arrival: the magnificent litter with the beautifully muscled matched bearers, all still struggling for air after their heavy run. Not a hair on their bodies, fitted with a loincloth that only highlighted what it hid, and all high collared at the owner's whim. To own and command such a conveyance was beyond their wildest imagination and the awe and respect of their owner soared even greater. Not a farm slave present didn't dream of being chosen to serve their master in such a fashion - it would be an even greater honor than being chosen to be a slave overseer in that you could be close to such a force - a power beyond their comprehension once they had been broken to the realities of Roman slavery.

Citicus chatted briefly with his chief overseer, who knelt before the human chair made up of the two Greek pleasure slaves' hips.

"Production quotas being met?" Citicus asked.

"Yes, master, and better," the chief overseer responded. "But with some cost," he added cautiously.

"What cost?" Citicus demanded with a frown.

"Forty three slaves failed to respond properly to the whip," the chief overseer ventured, "and had to be fed to the wild boars you captured on your last hunt, Master."

"Well, at least their deaths can be put to some use," Citicus commented. "Pork always taste better when the boars have been fed fresh slave meat,"

"Mainly those grown old and weak, Master," the chief overseer continued, "but a few young ones with perhaps overzealous drivers," the overseer continued. "Most were well past their forties, but three just starting manhood were whipped to an early death, I fear, thus cheating your lordship out of full value from your property. I've taken the proper steps, master, and those overseers are now back in the ranks, of course. I branded them on the face with a big "X" so I wouldn't forget their error and reassign them someday to an overseer's role. After a thorough beating, of course, to punish them for their waste of the master's property. With the special brand to mark them, I've told their overseers to work them so hard they will make up for the loss they have incurred. Once their faces are branded like that, it would be hard to sell them for much of anything, so they owe their loss of value to you as well, master."

"Yes, they should be made to make up the cost of their negligence," Citicus said. "They may die a quick death themselves in the process but, if so, it serves them right, of course, for cheating me. And what replacements are at hand, Overseer?"

"We have about 140 a month reaching working age on the breeding farm," the chief overseer continued. "We'll pick out the sturdy but ugly as replacements here and try to market the best looking and best equipped to slave dealers in the city. No use wasting a good looking boy on the work around here," he laughed, "although, Master, some of the dealers seem to be getting more and more selective in the stock they are handling as the market expands. Just last month, their regional procuring agent told me only the real cream of the crop, maybe one out of 50, would meet the most prestigious dealer's body quality standards. Most of the breeding farm's output, despite their attempts to selectively bred the stock, is a long way from that, I'm afraid," the overseer concluded.

When Citicus appeared to accept his report, he looked at his owner cautiously before venturing further. "Even a lowly slave like myself tires of trying to find satisfaction with the ugly brutes left on this farm," looking hungrily at Citicus' litter bearers, still kneeling with their knees wide apart and their muscular chest thrust out to best display their sexual appeal.

Citicus laughed briefly before warning, "Even a chief overseer is lucky to have any satisfaction at all. Remember those under you can never hope for any satisfaction of their manly needs other than their right hand or, if they've got the strength, the body chained next to them. At least, you can pick and choose among these animals when you want to relief yourself. It's a privilege few masters would grant unless they were a lenient fool like myself. I don't want you touching any boys reserved for the slave markets - you stick with the brutes available to you here, or you'll find yourself as barren as those under you are. I'll not warn you again."

"Yes, Master," the chief overseer responded humbly. "I'm most grateful to be allowed to use the men here on the farm. Don't worry about the boys being saved for the auctions - they're your property and I fully understand that. It's most generous of you to let me use your other property as you do - it's a privilege allowed few slaves and I'll not risk losing that privilege, master."

"Even with the losses we need to replace, that still gives us a good crop for market, no matter, how fussy the dealers in Rome are getting," Citicus reflected. "In fact, the breeding is growing each year. That means you've got to produce more and more food to feed the growing slave crop."

"Yes, master," the chief overseer responded, "and with proper supervision and some loss, I grant you, that can be accomplished. Your prosperity is my prosperity, and I'm well aware of that simple fact, Master, as are all the slaves you own. If they don't understand that, my whip will teach them the underlying truth, rest assured, Master."

Citicus looked around again before addressing the chief overseer. Whips continued to crack, moans escaped the lips of those singled out for "motivation," and sweating bodies strained ever harder to please the overseers' demands. In the far distance, a struggling slave had been whipped to the ground, and his bleeding back and rump, accompanied by screams of anguish, meant he would either have to find the strength to get to his feet and resume work or face being thrown to the wild boars for their supper or, if they were satiated, to the lamprey eels their master kept his pond stocked with - the ferocious eels were always ravenous for slave meat and tore a slave's body to pieces in seconds before consuming every last ounce of their victim. The choice was up to him at this point. Either way, he would serve as a good example to the other slaves since both the boars' pen and the eel pond were both located so they could see and hear the fate of any slave offered the vicious animals as a meal.

Citicus felt the Greek twins shift a little as their back muscles strained under the load. He smacked one hard across the rump.

"Quiet, slaveboys, or you'll find yourself left to work on the farm," Citicus said harshly. "That would make you appreciate the pampered life you live," Citicus added. "A week here in the chief overseer's bed would be a lesson in itself," he laughed. "I doubt if you'd walk for a week after his usage of the two of you. And you wouldn't last a day pulling those wagons over there," he said threateningly pointing to a team of eight slaves almost prone in their harnesses struggling to pull a huge load while an overseer lacerated their backs and butts with a 12-prong metal tipped whip. As they screamed in agony from the overseer's whip, one of the draft slave's eyes bulged out as his face turned bright red. His efforts to pull the load was displayed in every muscle in his body and his veins visibly protruded as he continued to struggle as the whip continued to tear into his hide. Suddenly he slumped to the ground with froth and blood gurgling out of his mouth.

"Up, dog," the overseer screamed as his whip continued to lacerate the slave's back.

"Forty-four, master," the chief overseer said with a sigh.

"Forty-four what?" Citicus spat out.

"That slave's dead, master. That overseer is just wasting his energy tearing all the flesh off that slave's back. His body just gave out. We'll need to replace him too."

"Well, Chief Overseer, I'm glad I was here to see it myself. Was the slave shirking his duty, was the overseer too zealous, or was the slave sick? Certainly the discipline I saw seemed to be appropriate."

"That slave wasn't too sick to work, Master, and the brute's generally been a hard worker despite his age. He looks to be in his late forties, so his time was about up anyway. Nevertheless, my guess is the overseer has overworked him, judging from the looks of the others in his team. I'll brand that overseer and make sure he makes up for the work loss as soon as we get him properly marked and fitted in the dead slave's harness."

"How wise you are, Chief Overseer, "Citicus said. "The whip, while always essential to a slave's well being, can be overused I fear in the hands of an amateur. However, judging from his age, we no doubt got our money's worth out of him, that is, if we even bought the animal to start with."

"Do you wish to stay for the branding?" the chief overseer said, "The slaves always enjoy seeing an overseer getting his comeuppance."

"No, thank you, Chief Overseer. My responsibilities elsewhere preclude the pleasure. I've got to visit the quarries next, now that the litter bearers have regained their breath."

Citicus rose from his human chair, snapped his fingers for the handsome Greek twins to fall behind him, and, again got back in the litter with the naked Greek slaves.

"Lift," he commanded, "and forward, Gait 40, to the quarries."

The heavy litter was smoothly lifted to the bearer's massive shoulders and the litter moved in perfect coordination to its next destination. Within minutes, the usual heavy breathing became audible, sweat once again coated the bearer's bodies, and every muscle in the litter slave's bodies showed the strain of the load imposed upon. The Greek slaves were again pressed into action, this time the one commanded to fuck his brother before was now designated for a fucking by the master. But he was to be taken from the rear while on his hands and knees as wide spread as possible in the spacious litter. The other boy was to place himself on his back under his brother's face and allow himself to be sucked by his brother's mouth as his brother was being fucked by the master. Neither slave, of course, would be allowed to ejaculate, as that would diminish their readiness for other activities the master might desire. To the sex-starved litter bearers, the sight was almost unbearable, and their tight loin cloths revealed their excitation in witnessing the scene. Each of the draft animals' sweat-soaked loin cloths were now stained with the pre-cum dripping out of their huge throbbing penises.

THE QUARRY:

By the time Citicus had taken his pleasure with one of the Greek slaveboys accompanying him, the litter had arrived at the nearby quarry and again the gasping, sweating litter bearers were greeted by the sight of hundreds and hundreds of heavily muscled slaves manacled at both hands and feet as well as, of course, collared. All of these slaves were stark naked - the master wasted no money in clothing them since they were out of sight anyway and clothing would only get in the way of their work. Their wrist chains allowed them to lift and carry, swing the heavy picks and hammers, while the leg chains were only long enough to allow hobbled movement. These slaves were strictly draft stock - even more so than the farm stock. Although considerably larger and even more muscular than the farm slaves, they had never been bathed or shaved, their uncut hair was matted into dread locks, and the lack of rest breaks meant their only choice was to eliminate as they worked. Hence they were generally coated across their backside with their own excrement. The stench from their bodies reached even the litter, some hundreds of feet away and the litter bearers almost retched from the ghastly smell of years of accumulated human sweat, excrement, and even spent semen as the desperate slaves ejaculated spontaneously at the slightest provocation after years of enforced abstinence.

Overseers' whips cracked unceasingly over the backs of the slaves, while hot branding irons stood ready in nearby braziers to "motivate" the more recalcitrant ones. Many of the slaves worked in gangs, leashed together by leg manacles as well as by their neck collars (actually now a piece of heavy chain tightly fitted around their thick necks that could be tightened instantly by a connecting leash), forcing them to work as a unit. The 'gang' system was in use by many owners with construction crews and latifunda workers. This generally meant far fewer supervisors were needed in that work efforts were easily kept coordinated; individual insurrections were kept to a minimum, and escape was literally impossible. Since they had been fitted with the new choke collars, the slaves either did as the others did or strangled to death as the pressure on their neck collar cut off your wind. With the new collars, slaves who tried any independent action or any rebellious action whatsoever found themselves choking to death almost instantly as the chain tightened around their wind pipe. Just one act of resistance, at most two, to an overseers commands was all that it took to make sure that slave towed the line of utter compliance from then on.

The Chief Quarry Overseer spotted his master and ran as quickly as possible to kneel and bow before him in the unexpected visit.

"Everything in order?" Citicus queried.

"Yes, Master," the Chief Overseer responded with his eyes to the ground.

"Production?" Citicus snapped.

"At record levels, Master," the overseer humbly replied. "And, I'm happy to report, with less than normal death rate among the stock."

"Sturdier stock or are you getting slack in your discipline?" Citicus shot back.

"Neither, Master," the overseer responded. "Discipline standards are kept high here, Master, and the stock is probably as surly as ever, although they are a little bigger and more muscular than the last lots we've had. But your neck and leg leashing suggestions seem to be inspired, Master," the overseer beamed. "Since we started the technique of choke chains as neck leashes, production has gone up over 10 percent, and slave replacement needs have dropped considerably. We should see sharply increased profits in the marble and granite production this year," he boasted.

"And the downside?" Citicus coached.

"Nothing serious, Master," the overseer continued. "A few of the more recalcitrant have suffered considerable damage to their throats and marked chaffing around their ankles, but, Master, they now seem to work just as hard as the others, Nothing like some simple pain to teach these brutes what's expected of them," the overseer mused.

"Keep the good work up, Chief Overseer," Citicus said as he shifted position in his litter, still hefted high on the litter bearer's strained shoulders.

"Thank you, Master," the overseer said in an obvious, almost reverent, awe at the magnificent display in front of him. As he eyed the Greek twins in the litter his erection became obvious as he too was kept nude.

"Like those boys, do you?" Citicus teased.

"Yes, Master," the Chief Overseer said with lust in his eyes.

"What about the bearers? Would you like to bed down one of them, Chief Overseer?"

"Yes, Master, perhaps even more so," the Chief Overseer replied.

"Why's that, Chief Overseer?"

"They're more like my workers, Master, in that they are so muscular, but they're so handsome and so clean, and they don't smell and there are no bugs crawling through their hair, and their manhood, so proudly displayed behind those tight loin coverings, is probably magnificent. They would be the envy of any master in the world, I'd wager."

"That's why they're bred regularly, Chief Overseer, and the animals here aren't. But I could see where you would eventually tire of using the stock here for your own pleasures, Overseer. Next time you report to the manor house and get a bath to clean you up, I'll let you use one of the litter slaves here as a little bonus for exceeding your quotas in the quarry."

"Thank you, Master, but are you sure you want to let a mere slave use another slave of their caliber and quality just because he was doing his master's bidding?"

"You're right, Overseer, it is a generous offer, but I feel you deserve it, and it won't hurt any of the boys here at all - they're used to being fucked regularly as I'm sure you know would be expected of any slave with an appealing body."

The litter bearers being offered up for the overseer's pleasure risked glancing up in curiosity to see who the offer was being made to and shuttered to a man as they saw the filthy hairy apparition of what had once been a man and imagined him fucking them.

"Yes, Master. I'll forever be grateful. And, as you say, master, I'm sure being fucked by whomever you designate is an honor for them as your slave,"

A light tan litter bearer, a slave from Persia, glanced again at the overseer and caught the bile rising in his throat, praying to his gods that he wouldn't be the one chosen to be fucked by the ugly overseer, a stinking slave himself.

"Just make sure you clean thoroughly before using them," the master warned.

"Of course, master," the Chief Overseer said, his eyes to the ground in proper respect.

"Keep the good work up, Chief Overseer," Citicus said dismissing the supervisory slave, "and don't hesitate to use those choke leashes we've fastened around the slaves' necks - this may be the best method we've come up with yet to motivate this type of animal."

"Gait 30 back to the Manor," Citicus ordered as the litter smoothly started up. "And one of you get to work here," he addressed one of the Greek twins, while pointing between his legs. "And," he said pointing to the other twin, "I think I'll play with your prick and balls on the return home. Let's see how long I can play with them without you shooting all over yourself," he laughed as he tweaked the boy's protruding tits.

The one twin dutifully swallowed his master's shaft and felt it extending itself slowly down his throat as he struggled to work his throat muscles around the expanding organ.

"Now suck, boy, and get that tongue going," Citicus ordered.

"Yes, Master," the boy tried to answer but couldn't with his mouth fully stuffed.

"And you, boy," he said, turning to the other twin. "Squeeze your ass checks together and get that pelvis lifted up high so I can get to your equipment easily. I may have to band your sex yet, boy, to keep it convenient for me as well as display itself well" he said as he grabbed the offered penis and balls and began a steady massage of the spongy but obviously full balls and stroked the dripping shaft. The Greek boys had always pleased him with their massive equipment on such small bodies and Citicus wondered why he hadn't fitted the twins with a thick genital band to insure that equipment was always displayed prominently. It was the latest trend with pleasure slaves and all of his friends seemed to have already had their own sex slaves fitted out some time ago.

The litter bearers, despite the terrible burdens of the heavy load and the fast gait commanded, couldn't tear their eyes off the scene in the litter. The one boy being forced to shallow the entire length of his master's dick while the other had to offer his very amble equipment for his master's amusement in fondling him was a demonstration of absolute power that made yet another strong impression on them. Not only could this one man own thousands and thousands of bodies all for the sole purpose of multiplying his wealth and prosperity, but now, in addition, the handsome, the heavily endowed, the extremely well built, were bent to the task of yielding every pleasure their body could offer their master for his personal use. And, they noticed, neither they nor their master, nor any other person they had ever met since being drawn into the world the Romans had created, thought that world should be any different than what it was.

Citicus too reflected as he idly fondled the Greek's organs. His destiny was to own, to rule, to enjoy, and to be pleasured. Slaves were destined to be the owned property, their lives directed solely toward meeting the needs of their owners, and contributing to their owner's prosperity and sense of ultimate power. Such was the structure of a world the Roman Empire had redefined, restructured, and now marketed to those who could afford to indulge themselves.

Part II: The Litter Slaves in their Stable

Neither Citicus' extensive dalliance with the Greek twins nor his tiring day inspecting his properties postponed his dinner party that night. As soon as Citicus and his pair of Greek pleasure boys were back to the villa, the manor's slave steward promptly unlocked the very short leashes linking his litter bearers from their permanent heavy copper neck collars to the litter itself and ordered them to the slaves' bathing area where they scrubbed each other throughly, body shaved, oiled, and polished their slave collars.

The steward then chained the litter bearers by their neck collars to the wall rings in their individual cells within the stable where most of the household slaves like them were kept. As they gratefully sank to the fresh straw in their cells, it wasn't long until the slaves drifted into a blissful sleep dreaming of the Greek slave boys they'd watched all day or some girls they'd had in a long distant, barely remembered, past. Apparently one of the litter slaves let their hands stray between their legs to gain some relief.

"You're nothing but a bunch of sluts," the stable overseer yelled as his whip lashed out onto the back of the slave found pleasuring himself. "You'd fuck a tree if I'd let you," he laughed, "but you boys seemed to have forgotten you've got to save your juices for the master's dinner tonight."

It was the first notice the litter bearers had that they'd be "on duty" again tonight and most of them groaned to themselves, promptly curled up in the straw, and tried to get back to sleep knowing from experience they'd get no rest again until early the next morning if this dinner was like most of the others. Only one night had elapsed since Master Citicus' last dinner party and some of the most tender parts of the litter slaves' bodies were still slightly sore from all the fondling they'd received then.

"By the gods," one of the handsome slaves, a white-skinned blond beauty from Northern Gaul muttered from his stall, "another night of being fucked at both ends awaits us. But with my balls swollen as they are, I'll not get through this night without shooting off no matter what the master says. Any guest that even touches my prick will get a cum bath they won't forget," he laughed. "Even if they beat me for it, it'll be worth it, so great is this slave's need."

Like most slaves at that time, the Gaul was crude and course in how he expressed himself, but all the litter bearers knew how he felt. The master wanted them "always interested" but surely this was carrying it to extremes. None of the ten heavily endowed slaves could remember any time that day that they weren't rock hard except when they were running full speed carrying the heavy litter and its load. The minute the pace slowed or the litter had been halted, all ten of us were at least semi-erect and usually dripping pre-cum. If a guest that night even lifted any one of the slave's shafts for inspection, the slaves were sure they would explode in this condition no matter what commands they were given by their master or his guests.

The stable overseer was allowed to use any of Master Citicus' litter slaves for his own needs as long as the slaves were kept clean and ready for action. Having any one of the handsome draft slaves suck him didn't dirty anything as long as the slave swallowed the entire load.

"You, slave," the overseer shouted at the slave nearest him at the time. "Up on your knees with your mouth open for action."

The selected slave's neck chain rattled as he assumed the commanded position, familiar to most slaves, male and female, that were young and attractive in Roman society. The overseer, from Judea, clothed only in a short tunic which he quickly doffed, briefly caressed his large circumcised organ and thrust his hips forward until it was at the slave's lips. The litter bearer selected wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, so he swallowed the overseer's prick to the root in one gulp and began to massage the shaft with his cheek muscles while he rubbed the crown with his tongue. The overseer's organ quickly swelled to twice its original size and slid easily down the litter bearer's well-trained throat. As the slave's throat muscles churned around the insertion, he suctioned until his cheeks hollowed inward and began riding the shaft with his pursed lips as he'd been taught, like all the litter bearers, almost immediately after becoming one of Citicus' slaves. The overseer began to slowly piston the litter bearer's throat as he held the slave's head steady in his hands.

"Suck, you bastard," the overseer commanded as he ran his hands through the slave's hair. "That thick neck collar keeps your head up high so you know you're here to suck cock, but keep those throat muscles massaging me just like you've been taught, slaveboy," he counseled as he increased the tempo of fucking the slave's face. Strangely, the chosen litter bearer seemed to still feel shame at being used like this and blushed accordingly, but the Judean overseer either didn't notice or didn't care. He'd probably been used like this on many occasions since his own enslavement by the Roman masters.

The chosen litter bearer concentrated on the overseer's commands and within moments, felt the first of the overseer's spunk slide down his throat. The overseer jammed his shaft down the slave's throat as far as it would go as he squeezed the slave's head deep into his groin until it was obvious the litter bearer could barely breathe. Nevertheless, the slave swallowed as fast as he could but subsequent eruptions were even larger and the slave felt the overseer's jism back up his throat and into his hollowed cheeks and even up his nasal passages. When a guttural roar told the slave the overseer was through using him, he kept swallowing the back-load until the entire emission was safely in his stomach. The overseer's spunk was salty but fresh, thick and tasty compared to the thin, flat, fishy taste of Citicus' older guests. As all of us had been taught since having been bought by Citicus, the slave selected for usage scrubbed the overseer's rapidly diminishing shaft with his tongue and a fresh batch of saliva until the overseer was completely cleansed.

"You're getting better each time I use you, slaveboy," the overseer complimented the litter bearer as he withdrew his shaft from the slave's pursed lips with a loud plop. "Practice makes perfect," they say as he ruffled the slave's hair. "Keep this up and I'll recommend you to the other overseers," he mentioned as he strode away, carefully smoothing his tunic in front of him. It was obvious he thought such a recommendation would be the fulfillment of any draft slave's highest goals as a slave.

The other litter bearer's chains clinked as they adjusted into the straw, grateful it was not them closer to the overseer when he decided to get sucked off, but they were still suffering from their constant need. The slave ordered to suck off the overseer felt his own cock throbbing as well since the overseer hadn't even touched it, but the huge discharge down his throat at least gave his stomach something to work on since none of the litter bearers had been fed since early morning. Sleep came quickly to all of the exhausted litter slaves despite their hunger and oozing pricks.

"Wake up, you lazy bastards," the overseer that had been sucked off yelled as his whip cracked through the air. "Playtime for you boys. A little food down your gut, a chance to piss, and you're on duty tonight."

As the bowls of a thick mutton stew mixed with grain were shoved in front of the litter slaves in a earthen bowl, to a man they quickly slurped it down, using their fingers as spoons since none were furnished. They were allowed all they wanted, and most of them had five or six bowls before they no longer felt hungry. Following this they were watered as the slave attendant, a naked boy no more than six or seven years ago, passed from stall to stall with a bucket and dipper, totally accustomed to seeing huge muscular studs in full arousal by now and knowing his future would be no different and perhaps not as fortunate as these slaves. After the feeding, the litter bearers were again allowed to bath, then a final coat of scented body oil was applied to their freshly shaved bodies along with perfumed pig grease inserted into their ass chutes, leaving little doubt of what was expected of them in the coming "entertainment."

"You boys are going to have some company tonight," the overseer said brightly. "Each of the guests has brought along his favorite slave boy, so you'll probably have a little competition before the nights over," he laughed. "You put everything you've got into it, or you'll pay dearly at the end of a whip, believe you me. I don't want the master to be ashamed of his own pleasure stock in front of these other slaves. Of course, they're probably pretty well trained themselves or their own master's wouldn't have bothered to bring them over. Should be an interesting evening," he speculated as he carefully inspected each slave's body.

"Now line up proper-like," the overseer continued. "You'll first be serving dinner. Each guest is reclining on his own couch, as is our master, with the slave boy he brought to attend him standing right next to him. When you're through serving, each of you is to go to a different guest, although I suppose the master will give each guest a chance to choose which one of you he wants to pleasure him."

Part III: Citicus' Dinner Party

With that, the ten litter bearers entered Citicus' dining hall in exact step with each other and began serving the numerous courses. The Greek twins, freshly shaved and totally nude as seemed to be their destiny in life, were standing close to Citicus' couch in full readiness. As soon as the first course had been served, Citicus reached out and played with the twins' organs until they erupted onto his food almost at the same instant.

"A nice warm sauce for the appetizer," Citicus said as he lifted the fresh shrimp dripping with the twin's cum, to his mouth. "And plenty left in the bowl for the rest of the shrimp," he said with satisfaction as he rolled the next shrimp in the thick creamy offering from the twins. "Nothing like fresh hot stud cream to bring out the flavor of fish," Citicus announced with some satisfaction to his guests. "There's plenty more where that came from," Citicus smiled as he again massaged the organs of the Greek slaves. "Anyone else want a fresh load?"

"Those Greek boys of yours aren't the only ones who can enhance a dish," a Syrian guest sitting across the room commented as he stroked his own slave, a handsome muscular Nubian black with an astonishingly huge organ, into a gigantic eruption onto his Syrian master's plate. The black's output actually steamed as the strands roped across his owner's selection of broiled lamb. As the Nubian slave's series of eruptions diminished, he gasped and steadied himself for balance. Since coming into manhood, the black slave now given the Arabic name of "Abn" for the slave he was had been used like this habitually and really knew no other life. From what the Nubian slave could observe, his life was no different than any of the other boys he had been raised with. He was well aware masters in the Roman world saw few restrictions in the use of slaves, including using both males and females to fulfill their most bizarre sexual fantasies. "Speaking animals," was the popular view of slaves and he'd never been led to believe he was anything but just that.

"Look, it's still steaming!" the Syrian master noted with satisfaction as he swirled the first small piece of lamb into the steaming 'sauce' and popped the delicacy into his mouth. "Delicious," he exclaimed, "and the sauce keeps me young. As the physician's say, 'A cup a day keeps the doctor away.' Of course, I drink it right from the source for breakfast and I always pick a virile young boy for that honor - no older than 18 or 19 in my opinion to get the full benefit! Two good slave boys can deliver a full cup every day between them if you make that their only outlet. Makes their balls swell up over time, but that only increases the output. Sort of like a good milk cow," the Syrian laughed as he hefted the Nubian's exceedingly large ball sack for a full display to prove his point.

"Those litter bearers of yours could flavor the food all by themselves, given the chance," another guest laughed as he pointed to the slaves' huge penises waving in the air as they hurried back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room tables totally exposed as all of them had been ordered to serve the meal in the nude. Neither the slaves nor the guests were surprised the slaves were serving the meal totally naked. This wasn't uncommon anymore in that it was becoming more and more fashionable to keep slaves totally naked no matter what their role, the argument being it was a matter of demonstrating a master's or mistress' total control over their properties, reminding slaves of their status beyond the collar around their necks (or on some well equipped males, their genitals), and, at least for the best looking among them, erotically pleasing to their owners. The litter bearers suspected that in the very near future, even their tiny loin clothes would be eliminated while carrying the litter, judging from other teams of litter bearers they had seen recently on the public streets. In fact, most litters they had seen recently had been borne by totally naked male slaves, obviously chosen, like themselves, for the size of their sex organs as well as their spectacular physiques. Indeed, one light weight litter they had seen a few days ago had been borne by six blond female slaves, all real beauties with magnificent taut tits and all totally nude save sandals fitted to their feet shaped like horse's hoofs and a long blond tail flowing from their asshole, obviously fitted to a deeply inserted butt plug of some type. Each of Citicus' litter slaves had wondered at the time how long it would be until they too were fitted with the 'horse' tails and hoofs and displayed totally nude along with their large manhood protruding obscenely due to a genital ring to match their collars. Only yesterday, they had heard their master discussing with the house steward how much time and trouble it would be to outfit them just like this and if the butt plugs would slow the slaves' pace in any way. The slaves were not surprised that their master was concerned with the pace being affected by the intrusion in their butts, not whether the intrusion would be painful or uncomfortable to the slave. Such thoughts never entered the mind of a Roman master.

"Help yourself if you want," Citicus said generously, "but you'll have plenty of chances later on to enjoy those boys. My litter slaves are well trained to pleasure you and, I hope, prove the equal to your own pleasure boys in that regard. But, while they're serving, just touch, pinch, fondle and feel - we'll get into full use of their handsome bodies later."

"I'd like some of that one's cream sauce right now," a ruddy-faced guest stated, pointing at one Citicus' litter bearers, an exceedingly handsome 19-year-old olive-skinned slave from Hispania.

"Well, just don't stand there," Citicus snarled at his Hispanic slave, "milk yourself for my guest - now!" he ordered.

The Hispanic litter bearer moved instantly to the guest requesting him as all of Citicus' slaves had been trained to do when one of the master's guests made a sexual demand. The gorgeous slave became stroking himself furiously, aiming his huge prick at the guest's dinner plate.

"Not on the plate, slave!" the guests ordered, "and go slower. I want your stud cream in my chalice." With a smoother stroke, the young Hispanic slave was able to practically fill the guest's chalice with his thick output, intended to flavor the guest's appetizer. The Hispanic slave promptly served the chalice to the ruddy faced guest, despite feeling somewhat light headed from draining his balls completely. The slave could not hide, however, his flushed face, red in humiliation at his forced milking in public.

"How is it?" Citius queried.

"Quite tasty," the guest answered, sipping from the chalice and smacking his lips in appreciation.

"Excellent!" Citius replied and all of his litter bearers breathed a little easier. "Some say stud cream is always best when it is force milked from a shy buck as that young slave obviously is, being new to his slavery. Still others claim there is a different in the taste of slave cream as to whether the slave was milked by others or he milked himself, but I have never noticed any difference in the taste myself I must say. But age makes a difference in the taste.- that I know. That's why I rarely drink the cream from any slave much over 25 or so."

"Before passing around my litter bearers for your enjoyment," Citicus continued,"I'd like to see your own pleasure slaves in action."

Turning to the Syrian merchant in attendance at his dinner, Citicus asked, "By the way, that black stud I heard you call Abn is a handsome lad and very well equipped. Where did you buy him, Ahmed? At one of the local auctions?"

"I didn't," Citicus' friend Ahmed answered with a smirk.

"Ah, a gift," Citicus smiled, "and a very nice one at that."

"No, not a gift," Ahmed replied, "nor was he even from any dealer or one of the legion's own auctions."

"An inheritance then," Citicus retorted as the mystery continued.

"No, although I've inherited some beauties from my late brother, may he rest comfortably in Paradise. What a taste in slaves that one had," Ahmed said with enthusiasm, "and fortunately I've been able to put them to proper use. My brother would be most pleased. Even you, Citicus, who buys up the best the dealers have to offer, would be envious of some in that lot - females as well as the exquisite males he seemed to prefer for his own personal use."

"Ahmed, you'd try anyone's patience with your endless dialogues. Where did you get the black Nubian? And this time I want a direct answer, you wily old Syrian," Citicus laughed.

"He's from my farm," Ahmed answered.

"I didn't know you had a farm," Citicus exclaimed. "I thought you were in the import/export business."

"I am," Ahmed replied,"except for my farm. But I only farm one crop," he added.

"What crop?" Citicus asked, as he fondled one of his Greek slaves with his right hand while pressing a finger from his left hand up the anal opening of the other Greek twin and then began vigorously pumping his finger in and out.

"Slaves," Ahmed answered.

"The Nubian's obviously a slave," Citicus said with some irritation, "but what do you farm?"

"Slaves," Ahmed repeated. "I farm slaves. That's my only crop."

"Ahmed, we all keep our female stock in foal," Citicus said. "It only makes sense what with the demand for slaves these days, and most of us select the studs to improve the stock while meeting that demand. These litter bearers waiting on us tonight serve stud for the 200 or so females I keep in stock. But I'd not call that a farm, although the 'crop' is new slaves, of course," Citicus chuckled. "It's always fun to see the studs in action," Citicus elaborated. "Maybe before the night's over, we could arrange studding of another batch of females, if you'd be interested. We give the brood slaves a month of so after birthing before breeding them again, but I think there's a batch of broods about ready again."

"Of course all prudent slave owners breed when they can," Ahmed replied. "But I'm talking about a real farm operation that produces close to 2,000 head a year. Although the crop takes a long while to reach market, and the start up costs are high what with the initial costs of the 2,000 brood slaves, and it cost a fortune to feed 35,000 head until they reach maturity, the profits on 2,000 marketed each year are substantial despite the costs, especially since my market stock brings well about average prices due to their highly select breeding and being trained from birth on to be and do just about anything any new master can dream up. The farm has garnered a most enviable reputation over the years in producing totally compliant, good looking stock similar to the Nubian here."

[It should be noted that although the majority of Rome's slaves were prisoners of war, others had been sold into slavery as punishment for crimes or debt, kidnaped by pirates, or abandoned by their parents at birth and raised by those who then sold them in return for their efforts. But a large number of slaves were simply legally born into it; Roman law stating any offspring from a slave womb was a slave. When slaves were very cheap due to the wars of Roman expansion, it was hardly worth the expense to feed and house slaves from birth to a marketable age. But as the steady supply of prisoners of war diminished as Rome had conquered most of their world, the raising of slaves as a cash crop became quite profitable and consequently breeding farms sprang up to take advantage of this, being located throughout the Roman peninsula as well as in Greece, Sicily, and throughout northern Africa. Of course, any prudent slaveholder tried to keep their female stock pregnant as much as possible, even those owning only a slave or two in order to maximize their profits. But it was the large scale breeding operations that made a real difference in the market and kept Rome's appetite for slaves well supplied for hundreds of years, especially after 100 A.D.]

Citicus' merchant friend Ahmed was obviously delighted to explain his hugely profitable farm and elaborated, "Citicus, I just signed an exclusive sales contract with one of Rome's largest slave dealers. They're so satisfied with the high quality standards I've set up in who serves stud and brood, they wanted the entire output each year. They offered a price I couldn't refuse. I've closed my own auction house and all marketing operations. I can't compete with Roman dealers on that score anyway."

Ahmed leaned back on his couch, parted his expensive robe, spread his legs wide so his huge erect prick sprung upward, and signaled for the Nubian slave to mount him face forward. The black slave quickly placed one leg over his master, spread his ass wide, and, grabbing his master's rampantly erect prick, positioned it at his open hole and slid downward until he was totally impaled. As his ass chute was stretched by his master's massive equipment, the strain showed on the black slave's face. His eyes were glazed, the veins stood out on his forehead, and his mouth gasped for air as he slowly adjusted, as he had numerous times before, to the pain of the forced invasion. Past experience had taught him the pain was only temporary and he knew his body would once again accept being fucked by his master's huge phallus. In fact, before his master was through with him, he knew his body, like most of the other male slaves he knew, would interpret the stimulation as so erotically pleasurable that he would actually welcome being used anally despite the deep feelings of humiliation, exploitation, and shame he had felt when he had first been raped as a mere possession. As his master played with his prominent tits, the slave began to rhythmically raise and lower his ass, squeezing his ass muscles tightly each time his master's shaft was fully encased in his anal chute for a "pumping" action he'd been taught in the careful training each of Ahmed's slaves received during their formative years before the first sale.

"Um," Ahmed moaned as he leaned back on the couch as the black's ass worked his prick. Within minutes, Ahmed audibly gasped, arched his back as the black slave pressed his ass down as far as he could and clenched his ass muscles as he held himself totally still as his master shot a heavy load deep within him. After catching his breath, Ahmed jerked on the black's nipples to let him know he should dismount and mouth-wash his master's prick clean - the standard routine for any slave who has serviced his master to orgasm. The sweating slave-boy lifted himself gently off the still erect penis until he heard the soft plop as the prick left his master's sphincter, climbed off his master's body, and quickly swallowed his master's prick to its root before proceeding to thoroughly scrub the organ with his tongue and then swallowing the remnants of his master's cum along with his saliva before disengaging.

"Thank you, Master," the black slave said humbly, as he again resumed a "display" position beside his master: legs spread wide, erect posture, and hands gripping the back of his head. A small stream of white cum was seeping out of his asshole and down the insides of his thighs.

Citicus laughed as his friend Ahmed caught his breath and scooted up on the couch to his usual semi-reclining position, leaving his expensive robe on the floor beside him. "As you were telling us before dallying with your black slave, bringing a crop of 2,000 slaves a year to market does qualify the operation as a farm, I suppose."

"Slaves are a crop like any other livestock, Citicus," the Syrian merchant stated emphatically, "although it's a lot more profitable in today's market, especially in you can interest some large dealers in Rome in your product. And you can certainly improve the breed in the process if you've half a wit to you. Most responsible breeders have paid a lot of attention to that, Citicus, as you well know."

"I'm sure you select your broods with that in mine, but you must have to keep quite a few studs on hand to keep the broods productive," Citicus mused .

"Only ten," the sheik answered, "but they're kept busy to earn their keep."

"Ten?" Citicus exclaimed. "For 2,000 brood slaves? They'd have to do nothing else but service the women day and night to keep all 2,000 pregnant."

"They don't do anything else," Ahmed said without emotion. "Why should they? We bought them as studs, and that's what we expect them to do. And yes, they are kept at their duties day and night - that's what studs are for, isn't it? Actually, Citicus, the studs do nothing but exercise rigorously twice a day to keep their magnificent physiques and good health, and service the broods the rest of the time. Every morning they fuck a new brood slave whose in the fourth day following her ovulation so we know she's most receptive to his seed. Two hours later he fucks another brood in the same condition and two hours later still another. In late afternoon, he repeats the procedure with three more receptive broods. Each of the six are tested the next morning to see if they were impregnated and, if not, they're put under him once again. Most of the broods are impregnated after three of four sessions at the most - a lot of them catch the first time under the stud. The stud empties himself six times a day, spaced apart so he has plenty of time to fully recover each time, of course. But every seventh day, we just exercise him extensively for two days where he isn't allowed to discharge at all. We find this periodic "recharge" period fully restores his sexual drive, keeps him in good spirits, and gives his equipment a chance to recover from any abrasion damage from all the usage that might have incurred. It's during this 'recharge' period that the overseers and staff are allowed to play around with the boys if they want - they can poke them all they like as long as they don't allow the studs to discharge - and of course, we encourage staff to use the studs for oral servicing. Swallowing all the staff's cum simply helps them recharge all the faster and makes a tasty snack for them. At any rate, they always seem eager to get back to their studding duties after the break. Maybe they just like fucking better than being fucked," Ahmed laughed.

"With our careful monitoring of the brood's ovulation, it only takes about 6,000 mating sessions to get 2,000 solid pregnancies a year," Ahmed continued. "That means each stud only has to mate about 600 times a year. We're going to sell off three of our studs that have been at this for a few years - they're 23 years old now - and reduce the stable to seven - that's all we'll need even if the fertility rate of the broods took a nosedive. You could buy any of the three from me if you're interested, Citicus. There's tons of great slave seed in those stud's for years to come. My farm had just begun to tap their resources."

"Well, I've got ten studs on hand waiting table for us right now in this very room," Citicus said as he pointed us out. "Setting up a slave farm would only involve stocking the broods."

"These slaveboys of yours could easily handle 600 forced matings a year and still carry your litter anywhere you damned pleased and have time left over to pleasure your dinner guests," Ahmed said. "Wouldn't hurt them a bit and they'll last for years at it. You're not getting your money's worth out of them just studding them occasionally at your parties with the brood slaves you have on hand. Get serious and start utilizing their true potential - won't cost you a penny extra!"

Another of Citicus' guests, Septicus, a Dalmatian merchant in his mid-twenties who had already made hundreds of millions in highly profitable grain contracts with Egypt, reached out and grabbed one of the litter bearer's' pricks as the slave was passing by him. The fantastically handsome Thracian slave, froze in position as Septicus stroked him to a full erection, the Thracian slave blushing furiously in the process.

"I think Ahmed's got a point," the Dalmatian businessman said. "This stud slave looks like he's up to at least 600 full matings a year without damaging his entertainment potential."

Abruptly, Septimus released the Thracian slave's organ and slapped him smartly on his rump. "Back to waiting tables, boy - all that usage will come later," and he laughed as he reached for his own personal slave, a spectacular blonde with close cropped hair, smooth hairless skin beautifully tanned evenly over his naked body, a handsome face characterized by high cheekbones, green eyes highlighted by thick black eyebrows and long thick eyelashes, a straight Grecian nose, and a prominent protruding jaw line that gave a virile hue to his otherwise feminine face. The slave's physique was perfect: highly muscular without being puffy, huge pectorals, a wash-boarded stomach, a perfectly rounded ass that resembled two bubbles resting on solid muscle, and a long, exceptionally thick prick cut to show a perfect pink head and spongy enough to appear totally smooth and veinless.

"On your knees, Chronis, and give me some mouth service," Septimus said sharply as he reached up and stroked his blonde slave's cheek.

"Yes, master," the blond slave said with a hint of gratitude in his voice as he quickly sunk to both knees and swallowed his master's shaft to its root. Instantly, the slave's cheeks hollowed as he suctioned his master and it was easy to see his tongue was furiously churning around his master's organ to offer a thorough massage. His young owner Septimus responded by placing both hands on his slave's tits and began squeezing them between his fingers until they were rock hard and swollen in his hands. The slave issued a muted groan as his tits were pinched and massaged by his master but continued with his duties unabated. Within minutes, he had accomplished this task and the slave's throat clearly outlined his master's prick and the slave's throat muscles diverting the gag reflex into a massaging sensation for his master while his inflamed tits responded to his master's rough massage by swelling to double their normal size. Master Septimus' face flushed beet red as the outline in his slave's throat grew even larger and his slave Chronis' throat muscles struggled to swallow all of his master's cum now racing down the boy's throat into his stomach.

"The boy's got an excellent mouth," Septimus gasped as he continued to discharge down his slave's throat. " I understand the dealer I bought him from acquired him from a slave merchant following our armies in the north part of Macedonia where he was part of the spoils of a border skirmish there. Since he was only 15 or so when I bought him, you can see where extensive training has been necessary, but," he sighed, "it seems to have paid off. He takes a fuck even better," he chuckled with considerable satisfaction. "At any rate, you'll all get a chance to see what I'm talking about before the evenings out, I hope."

"Make sure you do," Marcellus, a Roman now governing Massilon, a colony in Southern Gaul, commented, another of Citicus' guests that evening. "I particularly like bedding the races from Asia Minor, especially one as pretty and well built as that boy. I'll be glad to trade his use for your use of my own body slave, Phallis, here," Marcellus said as he reached up and tweaked the tits of the slave boy who was riding him, his butthole fully impaled on his master's cock as he rapidly rose up and down on his master, his leg muscles sharply outlined under the strain, and with sweat exuding from his body from the continual exertion. The slave named Phallis moaned from the tit-play and increased his pumping motions on his master's shaft. His muscular physique glowed from all the sweat in the soft lights of the dining hall. Although his huge prick was fully rampant swinging back and forth as he rose up and down on his master, one's attention was drawn to his face: features that looked like they were chiseled in place, highlighted by bright green eyes sunk deep into their sockets and thick, well trimmed jet black hair on his head, neatly outlining his prominent jaw line.

"I'll certainly trade you boys anytime you want," Septimus said as he withdrew from his slave Chronis' mouth and watched with satisfaction as his slave cleaned the last drop's of his eruption off his now flaccid penis without prompting. "Those green eyes certainly go well with that black hair," the Dalmatian merchant commented, "and his musculature is impressive. He looks like he's enjoying his ride on your pole. Had him long?"

"Only a few weeks," Marcellus replied. "Found him at a small dealership in Neapolis last month while I was vacationing there. Part of an estate sale: his last master died and none of the heirs wanted him, although I can't believe they actually saw him before that decision was made. When the dealer told me he'd originally been sold in some backwater province due to a default on some big loans, and eventually sold to a rich Neapolitan tribune looking to add to his own stable of beautiful boys, I thought he would be well-trained and experienced in the uses a slave with his beauty would be put to. I was right, but his Neapolitan master up and died on him! I got a great buy on him because the lawyer handling his estate in Neapolis was anxious to get rid of him and the other slave boys in that stable - he wasn't used to trading in pleasure boys and didn't know their real worth. Actually, the whole idea of selling slaves was new to him and made him extremely nervous, although he was well aware that his client always seemed to have plenty of them on hand. But he didn't have a clue as to where they came from. He sold the bunch of them to this small dealer at bargain basement prices where I got him at a most reasonable price. Only thing I've noticed about him that might be unusual - there's a touch of resentment in performing his duties but he always does just what you want - but I suspect he'd rather be bedding down a wench than getting a big one shoved up his ass or down his throat day and night," Marcellus laughed as the slave once again vigorously shoved his ass down to the base of his owner's shaft with a low grunt.

"Doesn't make any difference what he'd rather be doing as long as he performs his duties to your satisfaction, " Septimus commented. "Slaves are smart enough to know what they want doesn't matter now that they're slaves - it's what their masters' wants that matter. Besides," Septimus mused, "someday he may be owned by a mistress who'll appreciate his natural yearnings. A lot of rich sophisticated matrons these days are discretely stocking their own little harems with handsome male slaves. I visited a middle aged widow of considerable means last week in Rome and in the privacy of her villa, she proudly paraded before me four naked stud slaves, all collared, leashed and well oiled, and trained to display themselves as if they were up for auction the minute she stopped parading them around. She invited me to examine the slaves while she chatted away how good they were in servicing her. One of the slaves looked sort of embarrassed and blushed deeply, especially when I examined his sex organs, but another one seemed devastated by his plight and started crying when I looked him over. The other two looked downright proud their mistress had wanted to display them."

"Well, at least two of them seemed to be adjusting without difficulty to their new life," Citicus joined the conversation.

"Yes, Citicus, I don't know if they felt themselves extremely lucky to have been purchased by a woman as pleasure slaves because that fulfilled one of their fantasies anyway; or if they were just well-trained slaves who were proud to be chosen as sexual playthings by male or female owners; or if they liked their bodies to be admired and appreciated and gender didn't matter; or if they were just basically whores," Septimus laughed.

"My point is," Septimus continued, "I've found most boys adjust to whatever their owners, male or female, want without too much trouble, so I suspect there's a lot of whore in every slave - at least the good looking ones . And I suppose slaves who are very well endowed feel it's their natural destiny. That lady's slaves certainly were endowed, all right," and he placed his hands apart about 12 inches to demonstrate what he was talking about. "She'd obviously picked them for a purpose," he added with a lewd wink.

Marcellus shuddered as he ejaculated deep into his slave Phallis' ass. "Then why are some of them resentful of being used?" he asked. "This boy here, for example, took months to be trained to his usage, I understand, and still you sometimes get a little look or frown of disapproval when you start to use him and he's briefly forgotten what he is. But a little cuff serves as a quick reminder and he's fully cooperative. Personally, I sort of enjoy it when I know a boy resents what I'm doing to him and there's not a thing in this world he can do about it. Of course, you don't get that with all boys put to service - some of them are just naturally inclined that way it seems."

"Relatively few, probably," Septimus responded as he again studied Marcellus' slave, now wet and shiny from his exertions in fucking himself on his master's pole. "Except for those born into it, of course. Most of the young stock, when first pressed into slavery, are fairly inexperienced sexually and what little experience they've had was often just with girls. At first, they associate man-to-man sex with their slavery and resent it along with ownership of their body. But after a while, they learn to like the pleasures inherent in the use of their body and the resentment is about being a slave, not the sex they are engaged in. I'm sure you've noticed a big change in the attitudes of your slave boys since they were first raped and how they view the demands on their bodies now."

"Indeed I do," Marcellus concurred. "Most of the slaves learn to like it, despite themselves," he laughed as he reached over and began stroking the black-haired slave's erect shaft with one hand while massaging his ball sack with the other. "Why is it only Romans acknowledge the bisexuality inherent in every human? Can't the barbarians understand such a simple truth like that, or do they all need to be made slaves before they can reveal their true nature?"

Marcellus' slave Phallus shuddered as his organs were again being manipulated. He knew his big challenge now was to not erupt until his master wanted him to and he channeled his thoughts on restraining any orgasm building within him.

Course after course was served by Citicus' litter bearers as the guests continued to fondle the waiters, fuck their own slave boys, or simply play with the slave's available bodies. The conversation was punctuated with the owner's outcries as they ejaculated, the slave's muted moans, gasps, and gurgles as they were used one way or another, and the sound of flesh on flesh as the slave boys were sporadically fucked. The delicacies served were savored by the guests (certainly not the slaves), but no one overindulged in that they wanted to save themselves for use of Citicus' litter bearers as well as some of the other guest's slave boys before the night was over.

As the last course was cleared away, Citicus clapped his hands as the signal for his litter bearer's to go to an assigned couch and assume the "position:" hands in back of their heads, feet wide spread, pelvis thrust forward, and all muscles tensed. Due to all the fondling they had received during their serving of the meal and in anticipation of their upcoming usage, all of the litter bearer's were rock hard as they assumed the commanded position.

"If you don't like the one I've assigned you, you can trade around," Citicus laughed, "although they all are matched for height, physique, and endowment. Still, you might like a different color or different facial features and their balls do hang a little differently."

Two of the guests wanted blacks and two didn't care while another wanted a blonde, whilst still another wanted a black-haired white slave. Three of the ten litter bearers were shuffled back and forth until all the guests were happy with the assignment. During the shuffle, the black-haired pleasure slave of one guest was sent to the Dalmatian businessman while his slave, the muscled blonde, was sent back in the barter. Ahmed's black stud was loaned to a Greek shipbuilder in exchange for his slave boy, a handsome Circassian from around the Black Sea just entering manhood with a beautifully sculpted butt. Citicus' pair of Greek twins were sent to the couch of a another guest from Hispania in exchange for the Spaniard's slave boy, a well-trained Egyptian with golden skin, huge black eyes, high cheek bones, a beautifully sculpted body, and phenomenally large equipment.

"Everybody happy?" Citicus asked as he reached over and fondled the Egyptian's equipment. Looking around and seeing all his guests were already fondling both of the slaves assigned to each couch, he announced, "Then let our play begin."

One of the litter bearers, a handsome dark brown boy from the conquered Carthagian areas, ended up with the Greek master who had traded for Ahmed's Nubian stud. To enhance his own sexual pleasure, the Greek master had allowed the black slave to select which of the waiters he would most like to get it on with, and after inspecting us, the Nubian chose the hugely equipped brown litter bearer. Already the Greek was stroking the Nubian's huge erect penis with one hand and massaging the brown Carthagian slave's ball sack with the other as both slaves stood in the prescribed display position with their legs spread wide apart and their pelvises thrust out for the master's convenience in handling them. As both slaves begin to respond, he ordered the Nubian slave under him with his stomach on the couch and his butt thrust out for fucking while the brown Carthagian litter bearer was told to kneel and position himself to suck the new master off until he was ready to fuck the Nubian. As the Nubian slave let his legs drop off the couch so his butt was in the best position to be fucked, the Greek master rammed his prick into the litter bearer's open mouth and the brown slave swallowed it in a single gulp. As the slave had been trained, he begin to massage the swallowed prick with his tongue and suctioned his user until his cheeks hollowed as he pursed his lips and slowly went up and down the Greek master's shaft.

"Um," the Greek shipbuilder said, "you're well trained, I see," as he thrust deeper down the throat of Citicus' brown litter bearer. Within minutes the slave felt the Greek master swell to full erection and his user's involuntary thrusting, along with a throbbing penis, indicated he was about to shoot.

"Enough, slave," the Greek ship builder yelled as he withdraw abruptly from the litter bearer's clenching throat. "You're going to ruin my fucking of the black."

Without further comment, Citicus' Greek guest drove his shaft deep into the black's ass and began pumping the ass as the black moaned in total compliance, remembering to tighten his rectal muscles around the invading shaft as he did so. "You respond well to the fucking," the Greek said as he steadily increased pumping into the black's chute.

"Thank you, master," the black moaned as the Greek's shaft penetrated even deeper into him.

"It's obvious your Syrian owner has trained you well," the Greek said between his heavy breathing.

"Yes, Master.... but I was well trained......before my........ Syrian owner brought me..... off his slave farm," the black grunted between gasps. "All we farm slaves.... were taught....how to pleasure.... in preparation.... for our eventual sale," he interjected between gasps as the Greek pumped into him over and over.

"As well you should have been," the Greek said, breathing heavily in his efforts. "That's what slave boys are for, if they're even halfway decent looking."

"Yes, Master," the black moaned as the Greek plunged all the way in and held it, shuddering as he ejaculated fully into the black's stretched hole. After six successive emissions, the Greek slowly withdrew.

"Thank you, Master," the black gasped as he began to position himself to clean the Greek's shaft.

"Never mind," the Greek snapped with a slap across the black's butt. "The slave boy already on his knees can clean me," motioning with his hand for Citicus' brown litter bearer to again swallow his prick and clean him, now sticky with his cum mixed with the black slave's ass lubricant of scented pig grease. "You sit up now so I can play with your tits," he ordered the black with another sharp slap across his butt.

"Yes, Master," I heard the black say, as the brown Carthagian slave again swallowed the Greek's prick and scrubbed his shaft with my tongue and fresh saliva. When the litter bearer knew the Greek master's prick was pristine, he swallowed the remnants of the Greek master fucking the black slave with one gulp and then blew on him gently to help him dry.

"You been fucked today?" he asked the brown litter bearer while stroking the slave's cheek.

"No, Master," the brown Carthagian slave answered.

"Good, you're long overdue. But I'm not up to it right at this moment, so we'll let the black slave fuck you for my amusement," the Greek master said languidly.

"Lie over the table here, and you," he said pointing to the black slave," get into that boy's ass fast and pump him hard," pinching the black's erect tits hard as he spoke.

The black shuddered from the tit pinching but knew better than to withdraw. "Yes, Master," he said as he positioned himself behind the beautiful brown litter bearer, his swollen prick aimed squarely at the slave's now open hole.

"Ugh, ugh," the brown litter bearer moaned loudly as the black slave thrust in all the way without hesitation or allowing the slave beneath him any time to adjust to the invasion. Immediately, the black Nubian began to thrust rapidly in and out of the other slave's hole, taking his shaft almost out of the brown slave's chute each time before thrusting back in so far the brown slaveI could feel where the Nubian's public hair had been shaved clean.

"Twist it some when you're all the way in, black boy," the Greek ordered. "I want to hear him groan."

"Yes, Master," the black answered and upon the next deep thrust he swivelled around with his massive tool all the way up the brown litter bearer's chute, until the slave did indeed issue muted screams as he was opened up and stretched greater than he could ever remember.

"There, that's better," the Greek ship builder commented. "He's feeling the fucking now. Most of Citicus' slaves are so used, it takes a lot of get a decent reaction out of them. But this boy will thank me as soon as he gets his breath. I'm sure he hasn't been fucked this thoroughly in quite a spell."

The brown litter bearer got the hint despite his pain of the moment and promptly said, "Thank you, Master," between his clenched lips.

"See there," the Greek exclaimed. "Nothing like a good fuck to see some of these slaves get appreciative. Pump harder, black boy, and continue to screw the slave in circular motions every time you're all the way in....There, that's right... no, get it all in there..... now, twist around more so he really feels it...... now twist the other way.... no, no..... keep it in all the way... now plunge in and out rapidly but twist each time you're all the way in..... and don't you shoot on me...... you can't shoot without permission..... and I want to see you screwing this slave for a long while, you hear me, black boy?"

"Yes, Master. I'll screw this slave as long as you want, Master, if I can keep from juicing," the black slave said as his face clearly reflected the strain he felt from avoiding a debilitating discharge. Sweat was beginning to ooze out of every pore on his body as the need to discharge grew stronger and stronger, but his rapid pumping never slackened.

"Master, Master," the black pleaded, "I'm not sure I can hold it much longer."

"Don't you shoot until I tell you to, slave boy," the Greek master said with an amused look on his face. "I want this boy fucked properly. Get that shaft all the way in each stroke, you hear?"

"Yes, Master," the black slave gasped as the sex sweat literally flew off his body. The brown slave beneath him moaned deeply as the black continued to plummet him, stimulating the part deep within the slave that mysteriously caused erections even when being tortured like this. The slave's arousal was evident from a huge wet strain forming under him on the couch.

"Master," the brown litter bearer screamed as every vein in his face stood out in my arousal. "I'm going ....... to ...... shoot," and with that, the brown slave broke into a gasp and discharged cups of heavy cream between the couch and his assaulted body, driven into the couch with each of the black's thrusts.

"Oh, very well," the Greek said disappointedly, "although I'm surprised one of Citicus' slaves is so poorly trained. You, blackboy, can go ahead and shoot if you want. Citicus' slave has ruined it for us."

"Ah, ah, ah. ahhh," screamed the black slave as the brown litter bearer felt his prick swell to even greater circumference within him before spasming load after load deep into his bowels. "Thank you, Master," the black choked out even as he continued to pump into the slave beneath him. "I didn't think...... I could hold it..... much longer, Master," he gasped as his orgasm shuddered to an end.

"It seems you home bred slaves are well trained," the Greek master responded. "At least, you could hold it longer than Citicus' boy here," he said with some disdain as he ran his hands through my sweat streaked hair.

"I suspect Citicus is too easy on his slaves, but nothing that a sound beating with the slave whips couldn't cure, I'll wager. I would guess he's more concerned with how you look under the litter poles than how well you perform in bed," he muttered more to himself than anyone.

He jerked on the brown slave's hair saying, "You're a mighty lucky boy to be owned by such a lenient master, but I doubt if your next owner will be quite as lax," and he again jerked the litter bearer' hair so hard the slave thought it would come out in the Greek master's hand.

"Now both you boys flush yourselves out and wash up thoroughly. You're leaking cum all down your legs and beginning to stink with all that sex sweat. When you've freshened up, you get your pretty little asses right back here."

"Yes, master," both slaves said at once as they hastened to get back into the slave's bath areas to do his bidding.

Three other slaves were in the baths flushing themselves out when they arrived. One of them had cum all over his face and his hair was matted with the stuff. Another looked a little worn, but was still playful. The third had some nasty tooth marks on his left shoulder and a slightly bleeding ass, a souvenir of his last fucking, he informed the two new arrivals.

"You litter boys are getting as much attention as we pleasure slaves," one of them exclaimed as he recognized the newly arrived brown boys as one of Citicus' slaves. "It'll be a long evening," he snickered, "but we pleasure boys are used to it."

"So are we," the litter slave countered. "At least every third evening, we're called upon to entertain the master's guests. The difference is we do honest work in between."

"Work's work, boy, and slaves don't decide what work they're going to do. Just because you have to carry the litter in between pleasuring your master and his guests doesn't make you any better than any of us. No slave chooses his work, whether it's plowing or carrying a litter or herding sheep or warming his master's bed. You of all people, being called upon to pleasure any and everyone at least every third night or so, should realize that. I imagine you get fucked just about as heavy as we do," the slave said as he completed his body cleansing.

"It was stupid of me to say that," the brown litter slave apologized. "You're right: work's work and slaves just do what they're told. There's really not much difference between having a master ride your butt and carrying your master around all day on the poles. One gives you a sore butt, the other leaves every muscle in your body aching; so what's the difference? You're being fucked either way," the brown slave laughed.

"Honest work: What's that?" another of the pleasure slaves said as he again bent over to give himself another douche with a syringe made out of a camel's bladder. "Some of the positions I have to get into to please my masters is pretty heavy work if you ask me, and clenching those ass and throat muscles when we're being fucked turns into real work if you're doing it right," he snorted as once again his bowels were filled with the warm water.

Before long, the five slaves were cleansed properly and dutifully returned to their appointed stations in the dining hall. As they entered, Citicus and the guests had once again exchanged their personal slaves, and the litter bearers had been assigned to new guests so that the guests could enjoy all the evening had to offer. And enjoying it they were! Three of the litter bearers had mounted their assigned guests (who were casually lying prone on their backs) and were frantically pumping their asses up and down over the guest's rampant shafts, while three more were being plowed in a more conventional doggy-style position, their bent arms and legs tense from the added load of the person "riding" them. Meanwhile the personal slaves were busy sucking a new guest, or flat on their back with their legs over their shoulders as a new guest tried out their ass, or sometimes sucking or fucking each other for a guest's amusement.

The five slaves returning fresh from the baths were immediately commanded by the overseer into a series of different acts similar to the other slaves and their grunts, moans, and muted groans soon mixed with the panting, sharp cries, and screams of delight as the smell of sweat, ass lube, and hot cum filled the room.

One of the litter slaves, a striking boy from Sicily, had ended up with his own master, Citicus, once again plowing him with his large organ as he lay passively on his broad back, his long muscular legs positioned behind his muscular shoulders and splayed wide apart. The slave had lost count of how many times he'd been used since the evening began, but he knew it was at least the ninth time his ass had been subjected to a thorough reaming, whether by one of his master's guests or by another slave commanded to do so. His ass ached by this time and his chute, despite the heavy greasing it had received, burned as his master's shaft continued to plummet him until he thought he would split in half. At least all the cum inside him served as additional lube and made the fucking somewhat more bearable despite the slave's fatigue. As Citicus stared into his slave's eyes, his hands busy massaging the slave's already sore tits, the Sicilian litter bearer realized his jaws ached as much as his ass. Twelve times he'd swallowed cock tonight and each time he had been rewarded with a full load of hot sperm sliding down his throat and into his stomach. His tits had been twisted, pinched, massaged, and kneaded by every person he'd sucked as well as every person who'd fucked him, and by this time were so sensitized they felt as if they'd been freshly branded with hot coals. The slave knew from past evenings they would be swollen to double their normal size for three days or longer as a result of all the attention they'd received.

"Ah, Ah, AAAAH," Citicus screamed as he plunged into his slave as far as he could go, arched his back, and squeezed the slave's tits until the slave too screamed, but in agony, not ecstasy like his owner. The Sicilian slave felt his master's prick pulsate in his anal tract as the series of emissions began, filling the slave's ass to the point where cum was oozing out around all sides of the impaled prick. When emptied, Citicus jerked his prick out with a loud plop and ordered his slave to promptly cleanse his tool with his mouth which the slave did without hesitation.

"Um, " Citicus moaned as he grabbed the handsome slave's head from behind and pressed the property's mouth further around his rapidly deflating shaft as the beautiful slave licked and slurped any remnants of the fucking from his master's tool and then swallowed.

As Citicus looked around the room, all of his guests were either asleep or totally satiated, just staring into space as they sipped a little wine - almost like they were in a coma. None seemed to even have the strength to fondle the slave boys, both his own properties as well as the properties of his guests, still totally available by their couches.

But those slaves were now covered in sweat, their hair matted to the sides of their face, utterly exhausted, and with stale cum dribbling down their chins and across their chests, more cum running down their legs from a reddened quivering asshole, their tits bright red, swollen, and sometimes bleeding, and their now flaccid pricks chafed, bruised, and even slightly bleeding from all the stroking, squeezes, and hand pumping they had endured over the evening.

"A great dinner party," Citicus said to himself with some satisfaction. Clapping his hands sharply he ordered, "All of my property to the baths immediately - you have a day of hard work with the litter coming up in a few hours and we want your bodies fresh and ready for the poles. And you other slaves of my guests join them in the baths and then return to your masters sparkling clean inside and out so you can assist them when they awake." With that, Citicus settled down in the pillows on his couch and went sound asleep along with all his guests.

As ordered, all the slaves douched themselves properly, bathed until sparkling clean, and once again shaved their bodies. Only when that was finished were Citicus' litter bearers again chained by their neck collars to the stable wall and allowed to sleep on the fresh straw laid out on the floor. Within hours, Citicus' handsome bearers would again find themselves chained by their neck to the litter and running at full pace for the convenience of their master or his guests. But it would probably be three days or so before they'd be called to entertain again and by then, as much past experience had taught them, they'd be completely healed and ready for action. Of course, one of Citicus' guests could have taken a fancy to any one of them. If so, that slave might find himself being offered as a temporary loan, an outright gift, or, if Citicus was a little less generous with his property, being put out for rent or permanently sold.

[Romans were notorious for giving slaves as gifts to their friends or business associates or casually loaning them out if guests expressed interest in them. The Roman emperors often offered slaves as lottery prizes during the circuses and coliseum events.]

The Syrian master Admed had whispered just such a desire into one of Citicus' litter bearer's ear as he finished fucking him last night. Perhaps that slave would soon find myself stabled with his huge black Nubian slave - he might even end up in some exotic Syrian city ....... but who knows? As a Roman slave, he had learned long ago his destiny was in the hands of whoever owned him at the time. But all of Citicus' litter slaves now realized from their own experiences that since they had first been sold for a good price to their Roman masters, any slave who was bright, willing and able always seemed to survive - especially if they were exceptionally good looking and sexually desirable!

The slaves of Citicus' dinner guests returned to their satiated masters sparkling clean. But they wouldn't stay that way long in all probability. Morning would bring demands to offer a fresh load of sperm as a "youth elixir," new calls to be the recipient of a master's clumsy fucking, or once again on their knees swallowing either their master's or another slave's prick. And all the while having their tits kneaded, their limbs stroked, and their balls squeezed until they would feel like they would burst. Such was the life of a Roman pleasure slave.

Compared to the guests' pleasure slaves, being one of Citicus' litter bearers had its advantages, his slaves thought, as they bedded down in the fresh hay for a restful sleep and with the dinner party fast becoming just a distant memory. And being a litter bearer as well as party entertainment was certainly better than being a farm slave or, even worse in their opinion, a quarry slave. As they drifted off, they wondered if Citicus planned to open a breeding farm using them as the primary studs. One could always dream, they thought, as they shifted their legs to alleviate the pain in their well-used asses.

• THE END -