A Beggar's Tale

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WARNING! THIS IS A WORK OF EROTIC BDSM FICTION. IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website.

You must obtain the author's permission prior to posting.

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A Beggar’s Tale

by Night Owl

(Story Content: FF/m, BDSM, Slavery)

Part IV

Flavious was taken down a long corridor to his sleeping quarters. Two of the guards had a firm grip on each arm, but there was really no need in his weakened condition. Inside the tiny room, they forced his tired body onto a narrow bed, then placed his wrists and ankles in the shackles at each corner and locked them. No clothing of any kind was brought to him, once again denying him any modesty from the eyes of his Themiscyrean captors. Food was brought to him -- a strange mixture of vegetables with small cubes of meat. It was not very appetizing, but as ravenously hungry as he was, he consumed all of it as if it was his final meal. When he was finished, the guards left him alone in his tiny quarters. Even though his bonds were loose and allowed him a small amount of slack to move around in, he wasn't able to lower either wrist below the level of his shoulders. The mattress was made of filthy dried burlap stuffed with straw, but he had little to complain about after being bound to the hardwood table for so long.

The humiliation Flavious had been made to suffer since his capture was unbearable, and he realized much worse was sure to follow unless he found a way to escape this place. He knew there was little chance of success, but that he had to at least try if he was to maintain any degree of self-respect. He carefully considered his options -- first he would have to find a way to free himself from his bonds, then make his way through the corridors undetected and find a way to the outside, and freedom. Flavious continued to ponder over his situation until he at last drifted off into an uneasy sleep. Two hours later, he was roused by the sound of Madam Penthesilia’s voice,

"Sorry to waken you so soon," she crooned, "but there is much work to do yet and little time to waste.”

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The next several days of his captivity continued much like the first – his body, always nude, would be restrained in different positions, some tolerable, some with his limbs wrenched in ways that brought him the most unbearable pain. His genitals were always accessible to them, which meant long hours of teasing and stroking, stimulating him to the very brink of release, only to be denied that simple pleasure, again and again. Occasionally his cock was ‘milked’ to relieve some of the build-up of sperm, but there was nothing sexual in their method, no pleasure in it -- just the pumping and jerking of a woman’s hand until some of the milky white contents were drained from his balls. Bound as he was, Flavious could do nothing to keep any woman from touching his genitals – only HE was denied this simple privilege, even while urinating. Day and night, he remained this way, as if it were a reminder that his own body was no longer his to control. 

There were beatings too, usually with a leather flogger, a whip, or even a tree branch fashioned into a switch. The blows were always carefully laid so as not to permanently scar or damage him. He was forced to kneel whenever a woman entered the room, and then to bend forward with his face nearly touching the floor. He was ordered to address every woman as “Madam”, and always to ask for permission to speak first, or else suffer the lash.

Yet it was the never-ending provocations of his manhood that he found hardest to tolerate. Days and days of this activity, began to wear him down. His remained, at least, partially erect all hours, in spite of the milking, his balls felt as swollen as a leather ball. Flavious never thought this part of his body to be so vulnerable and weak, nor even could he imagine how such subtle torture could be so effective.

Quite often, Madam Penthesilia came to perform the task herself. Each time she would remove every stitch of clothing from her body, and lie with him on a bearskin rug spread out over the floor, between his open legs with one naked arm draped over his thigh, as if she were lounging on a couch. Then her hands would go to work in stimulating him, while taunting him with verbal lashings and insults that slowly stripped away his manhood much like the whips stripped away his flesh. Flavious grew to hate the Madam, but at the same time, he wanted her like no other. Each night while chained to his bed, he would think of her, his hands wrestling silently with the metal restraints. He tried to sleep, or at least divert his thoughts, but it was very difficult as his body and mind were in a constant state of arousal.

Then one night, Flavious was summoned to the Madam’s bedchamber.

Now before I continue with the story, I should describe to you what the Themiscyrean village was consisted of mostly huts made of mud and straw that dotted the base of a large cliff. Within the cliff, and over many, many years, a system of natural caverns had been transformed to accommodate the Queen and the rest of the upper hierarchy of the tribe, while the heartier peasants and soldiers remained outside. The rooms were furnished and decorated elaborately befitting the status of each member of the tribe. Compared to the more classic Roman architecture, these living quarters were still primitive, but nonetheless, very comfortable. Penthesilia’s room was no different. Her bed had a large canopy above with colored silk draped down the sides.

When Flavious was brought to this room, he was immediately forced to kneel before the Madam. She wore black silk, draped loosely and provocatively on her body, baring her arms and legs generously. Her fiery red hair was done up in braids to show off her long and graceful neck. She ordered the guards to roll out a wooden platform from a compartment under her bed. Flavious was then shackled to the platform with his arms and legs stretched wide to each corner. She sent the guards away, threw down a pillow and lay on the floor beside him. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. He immediately became erect. She then released her grip slowly, and ran her fingers up the length of muscle until she reached the head, where her touch was as light as a feather. She began stroking him again, interrupted with periods of rest and gentle teasing by tracing circles around the head of his cock.

There was no reason to expect it, but Flavious prayed this would finally be the end of the torment; that she would grant him mercy this time and allow him to cum. He gazed at her body as the flickering torches cast shadows of her under the garment she wore. He could see her milky white breasts, her pointed nipples pressing against the paper-thin silk. Her long, willowy legs were together and bent forward as she lay on her side. She smiled and whispered to him,

“Do you think I brought you here for YOUR benefit? Well you are wrong. I would never let a wretch like you touch my body, much less violate it.”

Just then, the guards brought in another slave. He was not much older than Flavious, his body tanned and well-muscled all over as if he had spent many hours laboring in the hot sun. When he saw the Madam, he immediately fell to his knees and bowed to the floor.

“I am here to serve, Madam,” he said. “Do with me what you wish.”

Flavious nearly sobbed when she released his cock and stood up to greet her guest.

“Rise,” she ordered, and the slave rose to his feet, his eyes still glued the floor.

“Kiss me.”

He kissed the Madam on the lips. It was a long passionate kiss. She brought his hand up to her breast and drew in a hot sigh as he squeezed it, then gently pushed him away.

“This is the manner in which a true man behaves,” she said. “To serve his Madam, not because he must, or out fear of torture or death, but because of he worships her. I am speaking of unconditional love, of devotion. That is why a well-trained slave does not flee, even when left unchained, because he accepts the life given him, no matter how miserable. He knows his place in the world; a world which should always be dominated and ruled by women. Now, I will grant you the privilege of listening while I bed down with a man far more worthy than you.”

She ordered the other slave to push the platform, with Flavious on it, underneath her bed. Then the panel was closed behind him.

Lying in the dark, he began to whimper and moan softly as he listened to the sounds of lovemaking above him; of the other slave pleasuring the woman he so desperately wanted. As she came, she screamed and bucked on the bed, moaning frantically. It was too much for Flavious to take. He burst into tears as the frustration overtook him.

For most of that night he remained awake. Sweat beaded, then rolled off his body in the hot compartment, and once, he thought something might have darted across his chest, like a spider, though he could see nothing in the pitch darkness. All of this happened while he thought of the Madam, only a few feet above him, lying naked on clean silk sheets, sleeping soundly in the arms of another man.

Eventually, Flavious drifted off as well, only to be awakened again to the touch of her hand, coated in scented body oil, sliding over his cock. The compartment he had been lying in was open, and the platform pulled out from under the bed, but it was the overwhelming sensation that he was about to cum that finally jolted him to consciousness. Then at the very last second, when his eyes popped open, she stopped.

“Love can be a cruel Mistress, can it not?” She laughed.

Frantically, he screamed and begged. Flavious was at brink of insanity now, his words barely audible.

“If you want mercy,” she told him, “then you must prove yourself worthy first.”

The Madam instructed him on how a slave must worship a woman correctly. Although exhausted and trembling, Flavious eagerly attended her bare feet, first licking the heels, then the bridge and toes. When the foot worship satisfied her enough, she removed her silk robe, and commanded him to provide even more intimate services.

The weary Flavious watched her as she placed her knees astride his shoulders and lowered herself down to him. His vision was suddenly filled with the sight of her neatly-trimmed bush, her pungent aroma sent his senses reeling. He felt the moistness at his lips as her body touched them. The taste of her was delicate and his tongue probed gently into her depths, he flicked his tongue forward and backward until he found the bud he sought, then took it in his lips and sucked gently. He was rewarded with a loud groan of approval by the Madam. She leaned back and forced the V of her body more firmly on his mouth allowing him to probe deeper inside. He was aware that her hips were now gyrating above him. Again he took her bud into his mouth and he sucked more vigorously. The sound of low moans filled his ears and he felt her juices flowing which he licked away with relish. Then he heard a loud shriek and felt her body spasm.

Madam Penthesilia was still trying to catch her breath as she collapsed on the floor beside him.

"Well, at least you know how to please a woman."

Flavious steeled himself, determined to not cry. He was exhausted, his body sweating all over from a combination of frustration, exertion and fear. Desperate to cum, he whispered the only word that came to mind,

“Mercy . . . “

The Madam gazed down at his cock. It was still throbbing and very swollen. A drop of fluid seeped out of the opening. Noticing this, she encircled the base of his shaft between the fingers and thumb of her right hand. Then she leaned forward, allowing her fiery locks to fall between his thighs, and slithered her tongue around the tip.

Flavious moaned, his body jerked pitifully against his restraints, he felt total indignation toward this woman, yet he could still feel his passion rising as her moist lips touched his cock. She trailed wet kisses downward to his testicles, her snake-like tongue lapped at the smooth, freshly-shaven surface, then she parted her lips and slid the entire length of his cock into her mouth, sucking on it eagerly.

All conscious thought left his mind, as though he were floating in a white hot sea of sensation. He felt a surge deep within his body and he bellowed loudly. Sensing that he was ready, she released her mouth and continued to stimulate him with her hands, jerking on it violently. As he came, the Madam did not let go this time, nor did she grab hold of his balls to block the flow of seed, but tightened her grip, stroking him, as if to squeeze every last drop of fluid from his body. Flavious moaned out loud, and his muscles continued to spasm uncontrollably for some minutes after.

The Madam rose and unceremoniously wiped her hands with a piece of cloth. She said not another word to him, but summoned the guards to take him away.

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The rude shock of a cold wet towel assaulted his face as Flavious realized that he had been sleeping in his cell. But for how long? One hour? Two hours? Shuddering, he tried to rise only to be reminded that the leather bindings on his cot were still in place. As the Madam removed the towel, she ran the palm of her hand down his chest to his thigh, and his cock quickly became erect.

“Your muscles have lost some of their tone from being restrained for so long,” she cooed, “so beginning today, we must bring you back to peak physical fitness."

Still just a little groggy, he offered no resistance as she attached a leather harness to his cock and balls, and affixed a short leash.  His wrists and ankles were released from their shackles, offering Flavious the brief opportunity to relieve the soreness that cried out from deep within muscles that had been pulled taut all night, before his arms were bound tightly behind his back with a black leather sheath. Madam Pentesilia then took the leash in her hand and pulled on it smoothly, leaving Flavious no choice but to rise to his feet and follow her out of the room.

"Now for your first public outing," she said.

As he was driven along the corridors, he quickly learned that if he did not turn in the correct direction or walk at the required speed that his cock and testicles would be cruelly punished with a sharp tug of the leash. They climbed a narrow flight of steps, and blinking as he emerged into the daylight, he found himself standing in a small arena, where a crowd of women had gathered on the benches surrounding it. Flavious was forced to stand in the open, completely nude with his arms bound securely behind his back as hundreds of female eyes turned on him.

In the center of the arena there was a large wheel sitting horizontally, about waist high. A single long pole tethered to it extended almost to the arena's perimeter. Ropes were tied about two feet apart along the length of the pole with a short chain and hook dangling at the very end. Flavious was led up to the wheel. The chain from his cock harness was removed, then replaced with the hook. Several male slaves trotted out into the area and took hold of the ropes. A single crack of a whip motioned them to pull on the ropes and the arm began to rotate slowly with the wheel. As tension was applied to the young Roman’s cock harness, he was forced to walk forward. He then heard loud cheers from the crowd, who seemed to delight in his predicament.

"Faster! Faster!" they roared.

The speed of the wheel was increased and he was forced to start jogging with the chain tugging at his cock. After a few minutes Flavious was now working at a steady running pace. The audience whooped with delight as Madam Pentesilia pulled out a bullwhip from her belt, and with great accuracy flicked it across his buttocks as he passed by. He flinched as he felt the lash and struggled to avoid tripping and being dragged around by his cock. He was forced to run, his feet kicking up the loose earth, until he was completely exhausted, then at last he felt the wheel slow down and stop. He sagged to his knees for a moment, but a crack of the whip forced him to stand again.

He was detached from the wheel and next led across the arena to where the Madam had taken her seat in a small rickshaw. The arm sheath was taken off and replaced with a harness over his shoulders and around his chest. Once more he felt the sting of the whip forcing him to walk forward conveying Madam Pentesilia around the arena. His shoulder and neck muscles strained under the burden as he was forced to halt at various points around the arena to allow the crowd a chance to see him at close quarters. Then just as he felt he could go no further, Flavious was released from his harness, and finally allowed to collapse. Drenched in sweat and panting, the guards removed the harness and dragged him by each arm from the arena.

They took him to a shower stall and shackled his wrists to a bar overhead where the wash maids took over and washed his body thoroughly with soap and water. He was then taken to his cell, where he was, once again bound naked to his bed and allowed to rest.

Later that day, Flavious was taken back out to the arena. An even larger crowd had formed, and there were other slaves training with him. All of them were nude, some with their heads shaved as well as the rest of their bodies. The guards took Flavious to vertical pole attached to a wheel, with four long steel blades extending outward, two high and two low. His arms were freed from the restraints, then one of the guards chained his collar to a stake in the ground, leaving just enough slack to allow some movement, but not enough to clear the path of the blades.

As the wheel turned, Flavious was forced to leap into the air and bend his knees, then duck as each blade passed. Again the crowd roared with excitement. There was much anticipation as to how a well-trained Roman soldier might perform in their arena, and this one did not disappoint. They admired the toned musculature of his body and the athleticism of his movements – a criterion of male perfection, not seen since the Greeks, struggling to keep in time with the rotating blades, or else be cut to ribbons. The crowd of women still roared even after the wheel stopped turning and Flavious collapsed to the ground.

He was allowed to rest a while before summoned to his feet again and forced to wrestle another male slave in Greek style. Both were told that the loser would be punished with thirty lashes to the body, as a means of provoking each to fight the other. So the two men wrestled in the dirt to the jeers and whistles of their female audience, muscles straining, their tanned bodies sweating in the hot sun, until Flavious finally pinned the other exhausted man. “The Roman” was declared a winner, and as promised, the other man was tethered between two poles and forced to endure the thirty lashes.

The long day was finally over for Flavious. They took him to the showers, then two powerful-looking women massaged his sore limbs. He was fed and strapped to his cot for the night, though he got little rest, for not long after, Madam Penthesilia came to him and he was again forced to commit more acts of perversion to satisfy her sexual appetites.

His mind was in turmoil. He realized now that he could not fight these women, no matter how hard he tried. And of what use did Madam Penthesilia intend him for? Was she really insane and using him for her own needs? After she left, Flavious found sleep impossible as he contemplated whether there was any hope of escape.

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Hundreds of miles away a very heated discussion was taking place in Rome after the Emperor Caesar Augustus was informed of the Roman defeat in their eastern province against the mysterious Amazons.

“What do you mean they found nothing,” the Emperor rose from his chair and paraded around the room. “Surely there must have been some trace of the enemy . . . bodies . . . tracks . . . or did these women sprout wings and carry them off!”

“You could be half-right, Caesar,” the commanding general of Rome answered him. “It is not unusual for even most primitive tribes to remove their own dead from the battlefield, and as for the tracks, they may have covered them up in anticipation that Rome would send a larger army after them.

“Their anticipation was correct,” the Emperor took his seat again. “How many legions do we have in Alexandria?”

“Three cohorts.”

“Dispatch them immediately. Then send another scouting party ahead to locate this tribe. The local villagers must have some information about these women. Bring them in for questioning – in shackles if necessary."

“Yes, Caesar.”

“Were any prisoners taken?”

“Commander Scafious reported only one man missing -- their scout. We have little hope he is alive though. There is evidence that all of the wounded were killed and left to rot in the sun.”

“Then I will grant these women no mercy,” the Emperor struck the arm of his throne with one fist. “When their village is found . . . kill them all!”

(continued)