by J. P. Bowie
“I’ll leave you here then,” Turio whispered, taking my arm in a vise-like grip, as if trying to prevent me from entering the house. Gently, I pried his fingers free, then with a sad smile I walked away toward the large iron gate, trying to ignore my roiling stomach.
I pulled on the metal bell attached to a pillar. A moment later, a bald headed old man in a red robe scuttled down the pathway and pulled open the gate.
“The Master awaits your company.” He greeted me with a slight bow, but also with a smirk on his thin lips—one that I would have willingly slapped away, had I not felt that it was truly deserved.
He led me into a large atrium, in the middle of which gentle waters cascaded from a marble fountain into a pool covered with floating lilies. A very pleasant perfume pervaded the air, and that, plus the atmosphere of tranquility, almost acted as a balm to my jumpy nerves.
“The master will join you here,” the old servant said, indicating that I should sit on a bench near the fountains. After a moment or two, a young boy appeared carrying a tray on which stood a large wine goblet. I accepted it with a smile. His eyes roved over me with unabashed admiration. I was taken aback at such boldness from a slave. With a grin, he turned and left. I looked into the dark red depths of the wine, then squaring my shoulders, drank it down in one long swallow.
“You like my wine, eh?”
I looked up at the speaker, and almost bolted for the door. My mouth dropped open slightly as I stared at the vast figure before me. He must weigh as much as five men, I thought with horror, trying hard not to let my thoughts reflect in my expression. The Etruscan was swathed in a voluminous gown of red and gold that emphasized his enormous girth. His black hair hung to his shoulders, and along with his beard, was oiled and teased into a myriad ringlets. If it were not for the fact that I was expected to have sex with this caricature, I would have laughed aloud at his ridiculous appearance.
I stood, holding my empty wine goblet. Papni clapped his hands, summoning the little bold slave, ordering him to refill my goblet immediately.
Good, I thought, keep it coming. However, I knew that all the wine in Italia would not save me from the disgust this evening would bring. How did I ever think I could go through with this? I asked myself. I had to leave—
Papni reached out and took my arm in his fat hand, guiding me through the atrium into a large lavishly furnished ante room, where a table had been set for dinner, piled high with a multitude of meats, bread, and fruit. My stomach groaned at the sight. After all, I was hungry.
“Sit, sit, my dear boy.” Papni gestured with a sweep of his huge arm. “We must first get acquainted. It is not often that I am graced by the company of someone as handsome as yourself. My friend Turio said you were comely, but I have never considered him a connoisseur of male beauty.”
My friend Turio… I wondered how Turio would have welcomed that implication.
“Now, tell me,” Papni was saying, “I understand you were at the games today, and were honored by one of the gladiators.”
I looked at him with surprise. “You heard about that?”
“The whole town has heard about it,” he replied, chuckling. “Do you know the man?”
“Not exactly.” I reached for a slice of chicken. “I saw him train at the ludo, and then subsequently at two of his fights. I expect he was merely showing his thanks for my support.”
“Surely you are not that naïve, Lucius?” Papni’s black eyes glittered with mischief, and a faint sneer touched his thick lips. “Out of the hundreds of supporters, he singled you out. I think you must have caught his admiring eye.”
“I’d like to think that, of course, but I feel it was just by chance.”
“I do not agree—it appeals to my romantic nature that the gladiator might have his eye on you.”
I decided it was time to change the subject. “You knew my father?”
“I did,” Papni said, without much interest. “He was a colleague of mine in business.” He shoved an enormous piece of meat into his mouth as he spoke, and I had to look away for fear of never being able to eat again. After much noisy chewing, he mumbled, “But that’s not what we are here to talk about, eh?”
“Right.” I sighed, and looked at him hopefully. “Turio said you could expunge the debts my father left.”
“I can, indeed I can. Did he also tell you what I expect in return?”
My stomach lurched as I nodded, yes.
“Then consider it done.” He smiled at me, showing yellow teeth. “I took it upon myself to contact your father’s debtors, and ascertain how much he owed each one.” He paused and clapped his hands together. The old man who had greeted me at the gate entered, carrying a tray upon which lay six money bags, tightly sealed.
“Upon your acquiescence, and at my signal, these bags will be transported to the persons involved, and all debts will be paid in full. You have only to give me your word that you will indulge me in any way that will bring me pleasure tonight—and tomorrow night. Your word, dear boy, and it will be done.”
I felt my hands grow clammy with apprehension at the thought of another night in this man’s company, having to endure the gods only knew what. I closed my eyes and thought of my mother and sisters.
“You have my word,” I said, forcing out the words that almost stuck in my throat.
“Excellent!” He waved the old servant away. “See that this task is done tonight without delay.” With an enormous effort, Papni struggled to his feet. “Now, my beautiful young friend, please follow me.”
Taking a huge gulp of my wine, and clinging to the goblet in the hope of replenishment, I followed the Etruscan merchant as he lumbered from the room. The chamber into which he led me was even more lavish than the one before. Venel Papni was indeed a man of incredible wealth. What a pity it was wasted on one as gross as he.
“You may disrobe,” he said, without preamble.
Right. Let’s get this over with as quickly as possible, I thought, wondering all the while just how I was going to perform, for it seemed, each time I looked at him, every vestige of desire was sucked out of me. I heard him gasp with what I supposed was admiration as I stripped off my tunic and stood naked before him. His glittering eyes slid over my body, then he handed me a goblet containing an amber liquid.
“Here, drink this,” he said.
I sniffed at it carefully. “What is it?”
Papni chuckled. “Drink it, then I will tell you.”
I shrugged and threw back the contents. After all, I reasoned, he was not about to poison me. Drug me, perhaps, but then at least I would not have to look at him while he slobbered over me, or whatever in Hades he intended to do with me.
“I know you look on me with disgust, young Lucius…” He began to unbind the sash that held his gown closed. “I am not foolish enough to think that the young men I bring here look on me as Adonis come to life.” He chuckled again. “What I have given you will help you in your task. And remember, by coming here tonight, you got what you wanted. Now it is merely time that you reciprocate.”
I nodded, and fell on my knees before his now exposed genitalia. Well, I imagined that somewhere in there, among the folds of fat and hairy flesh he had a dick and balls, but by Juno, I could not see them! I ventured a hand in there until I discovered something small and hard. I gave it a tentative tug, and it grew harder. Ah, success, I thought, my head buzzing suddenly as the effects of whatever he had given me to drink took hold. He moved closer, and I brought his tiny penis to my lips.
His huge hands enclosed my head as he pulled me deeper into the fleshy labyrinth of his groin. I began to suffocate, but gamely I continued to tease the tip of his tiny bud with my lips. With a grunt of impatience, he thrust forward and it popped into my mouth, bringing with it a slimy trail of bitter juice. I gagged, but determined to continue, and encouraged by what had now become a kind of singing in my head, I tried to encircle his bulbous buttocks with my arms. Next thing, he had collapsed on top of me, his semen floo
ding my mouth, his bulk rendering me immobile under him.
I am dying, I thought. I shall be asphyxiated under this pile of hot sticky flesh, if not poisoned by whatever now trickled down the back of my throat. Despite my revulsion, and my almost overpowering need to get out from under all of Venel Papni, I could only lie there, helpless, until after what seemed an eternity, he rolled off me and lay on his back, panting and trying to regain his breath.
I dared not move, and strangely, felt somewhat euphoric lying there gazing up at a ceiling that had been painted azure to represent the sky. The color reminded me of the eyes of my hero, and that, along with the singing in my head, seemed to transport me to a much better place than I had been a mere few minutes before.
Beside me, Papni was trying to sit up and not having much success. I jumped to my feet, and gave him my hand. With much pulling on my part, and much struggling and cursing on his, we finally managed to get him on his feet, but not before he had let out a truly powerful fart.
Grabbing my tunic, I danced to the other side of the room to escape the fumes, while he, muttering under his breath, drew his voluminous robe around him. What now? I wondered. Was he up for another round, or had what had passed for sex been enough?
“Wait,” he said, as I was about to pull on my tunic. “Let me look at you a while longer.”
Oh Jupiter, I thought. Please don’t let him get all fired up again. He sat down on a couch and waved me closer. Throwing my tunic aside, I approached him slowly.
“Aah...” His appreciative sigh made me smile, and he clapped his hands in delight. “You are truly a beauty. Turn around.”
I did, and gave him a playful wiggle of my hips. Whatever he had given me to drink was surely responsible for all of this coquetry I now displayed. This wasn’t me at all!
Fortunately, after another long sigh of appreciation, he deemed the show over, and allowed me to dress. He called for more wine, and the dark sweet liquid was welcome relief from the bitter aftertaste of what had been there previously. My host looked at me with a benign expression. I had to admit to myself that I was surprised he was so easily pleased. Turio had led me to believe he had been more demanding.
“You seem perplexed, my young friend,” he said, smiling.
My head still buzzing, I leaned forward and kissed him on one of his drooping jowls. He beamed at me.
“Not perplexed,” I replied. “But I thought you might need more.”
“Ah...” He took a sip of his wine. “All the fine young men, such as yourself, come to me for similar reasons. Either I pay them for their services, or I take care of their debts. Either way, it’s all about money. Some come, sullen and defiant, regarding me as they would some kind of detestable, vile creature about to prey on them. Those, I am not very nice to, I’m afraid, putting them through enough debasement to give me pleasure in seeing them so humiliated. Then there are others, who knowing that what I do can truly help them out of whatever difficulties they are in, try to make the best of it. Those I help along with a little aphrodisiac, to help make it less distasteful.”
I looked at him for a long moment, seeing him as if for the first time. “I am sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be, dear Lucius. I know your heart was not in it, and why should it be? A young, beautiful young man like you could have the pick of society—or of the arena perhaps,” he added with a sly smile. “But you were determined to give me the pleasure you knew I expected, and because of that, I am satisfied. Your debts are cleared, and for that, you are satisfied. We are both winners, eh?”
“Yes, we are.” I smiled at him, and held out my hand. He enfolded it in his ample fist, then raised it to his lips and kissed my palm.
“I think,” he said, “you and I will be friends. If you ever need help again, you have only to ask. I ask only that you will honor your promise to return tomorrow night. Friendship must be of mutual benefit.”
Turio was waiting for me when I left Papni’s house. He looked at me with a mixture of shame and expectancy.
“I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said, taking my hand.
“Thank you, Turio.” I embraced him, then we started to walk home.
“Was it terrible?”
I hesitated, before answering. I knew that what Papni had said about those who came to him sullen and defiant, had included Turio. But how could I blame my friend for that? He did not enjoy men in any shape or form, and because of that, Papni’s better nature would have escaped him completely. The Etruscan would have made sure that Turio was thoroughly humiliated.
It would not do for me to cheerfully tell him it wasn’t so bad! That would have made his humiliation even greater, and might cause him to resent me.
I squeezed his arm, and whispered, “Yes, quite terrible, and I had to promise to be back tomorrow night, but at least I can rest easy now, knowing that my mother and sisters are taken care of.”
“Right,” he muttered. “I can only hope that, one day, someone will take care of that fat fuck.”
We trod the rest of the way in silence.
CHAPTER SIX
CALLISTUS
Being in the arena felt almost like freedom. Free, at least, from the stench and press of humanity I endured when confined to what were laughingly called living quarters. Spartacus and I had given them a show, a great show, and loath as I am to admit it, it felt good to have pleased the crowd of bloodthirsty onlookers cheering us at the end.
Lucius was there again. Of course, I had hoped he would be. I had sought him out in the crowd. Clever lad to stand in practically the same spot as before. His yelling my name had lifted my spirits, just as he had done during my previous bout. It was only fair, though, that the faction that admired Spartacus should try to shout him down.
I don’t know who was more surprised when I raised my sword in salute to him—Lucius or myself. I felt drawn to him, as though I should thank him for his support. It felt right somehow. When our eyes met across the great distance between the arena floor and the stands, it was as if we were standing face to face, within reach of one another.
All these pleasant thoughts were erased shortly thereafter, when some of the guards began humiliating one of the men who had not done well in the arena. The poor lad, Quintillus by name, was terrified of his opponent, a more highly skilled fighter, and had begged Lentullus not to send him into the arena. Of course, Lentullus had ignored the boy’s pleas, and the result had been what we all expected. Quintillus had put up a poor defense, had been disarmed in a trice, and had suffered the catcalls and cries of “Coward!” from the stands, until he had made his sad exit from the arena.
Spartacus had tried to console him. The boy was not a coward, merely outclassed by a veteran gladiator. But two of the guards seeing in him an easy victim, separated him from the rest of us, to beat him in his cell. We heard his cries of pain, and ran to his aid, but were held back by the guards’ confederates who threatened us with drawn swords. Again, we were not numerous enough to overpower them, and so Spartacus elected diplomacy over force.
Quintillus will recover physically, but his spirit is broken. He will never be a gladiator, but will be tossed back into the slave market to be sold as a menial servant. Spartacus and I confronted Lentullus about the matter, and after an angry exchange, we found ourselves imprisoned until, in his words, ‘We remembered just who was the Master, and who were the slaves…’
The man’s numbing stupidity renders me speechless. Spartacus, myself, and two others who had supported us, were imprisoned. The other men refused to fight until we were released. Instead of trying to reach compromise, Lentullus, in his pig-headed way, had decided that punishment is the only way to deal with us. Ah well, his bank account will suffer before we do.
× × × × ×
LUCIUS
The following night, I duly arrived at Venel Papni’s home again—this time alone, Turio being otherwise engaged. I rather think his guilt at my predicament outweighed his wish to accompany me a second time.
Although I had left Papni under good terms the night before, I was not looking forward to this repeat performance. I mean, who with eyesight and a sense of the aesthetic would? Nevertheless, he had been true to his words, and I would be to mine.
The same old retainer, with the same old smirk, answered my knock and ushered me indoors, informing me that Papni would be with me directly. While I waited, the young boy slave who had flirted with me the previous night brought me a goblet of wine.
“Good evening, sir,” he murmured, as I took the proffered wine. “It is good to see you again.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, gulping the wine down. He stood looking at me, his eyes once more filled with mischief—and in addition, with undisguised lust. “Uh…” I looked around for his master. “Did you want something?”
“Yes.”
But before he could elaborate, Papni appeared in all his vastness, his face wreathed in smiles. “Ah, dear Lucius. You have kept your word.”
“Of course…” I handed my wine goblet to the slave for a refill. “I would not think of reneging on our agreement.”
“Excellent, excellent.” Papni clapped his hands together, then gestured that I follow him into the other room. To my surprise, the boy slave trotted at our heels, following us into Papni’s bedchamber.
“I have a different diversion in mind for this evening.” Papni sat his enormous bulk on a large, and I hoped, sturdy divan. “Young Lysis here will pleasure you, while I watch. I hope that is more to your liking?”
Surprised, I looked from him to the smiling face of the young slave. “Are you sure?” I asked, somewhat densely. Don’t argue, Lucius!
Papni nodded, and Lysis removed his tunic, revealing a lithe and compact body. I have to admit, that although the boy was not someone I would have normally sought for sex, being too young for my taste, he was a very agreeable alternative. Smiling, he approached me, bringing his face close to mine and kissing me sweetly on the lips. I let him disrobe me, and the feel of his warm flesh pressed to my nakedness fired me with desire almost immediately.