by Alex Fox
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Eternal Press
www.eternalpress.ca
Copyright ©2009 by L. A. Wilson
First published in 2009, 2009
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Rome's Perfect Boy
About the Author
Available now from Eternal Press
Available now from Eternal Press
Available now from Eternal Press
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Rome's Perfect Boy
Hurry up and buy me!
Bargaining began between two matrons, but the women were stopped by a tall, lean man with short dark hair; he looked like a centurion to me even though he was not in his armour. I took eyes with him, as I should not, but I was so hot standing here, sweating a rivulet down my naked chest. The man eyed me very carefully. I saw him go to speak to my old master and begin bargaining a price. I could not hear them over the noise of the slave market, but my heart began to race with excitement ... the tall man was so handsome and lean, muscled and powerful to look at. Yes, I was sure he was a centurion, for he carried a military bearing about him.
And he wanted me.
He bargained strongly, forcefully, and solidus coins were given out to my old master—how much did I sell for? I saw my old master smiling and laughing, so, I must be a good price for him. And I almost wept when he went off to sign the selling papers and not once did he look back at me. He had owned me for years, and now, not even a goodbye glance ... my eyes filled with tears of sorrow, and a fly settled in the corner of my left eye and I squinted it away. The tall man came for me. My heart raced when I took eyes with him again. So handsome! Oh ... so handsome...
Rome's Perfect Boy © 2009 by Alex Fox
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This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-926647-69-2
Print ISBN: 978-1-926647-77-7
First eBook Edition * April 2009
First Print Edition * April 2009
Production by Eternal Press
Printed in The United States of America.
Rome's Perfect Boy
Alex Fox
Rome's Perfect Boy
So hot! I was not used to such intense heat and blazing sunlight—my skin so pale and delicate, how could I endure it? But I must. And now here, standing on a platform in the salve market of Rome, I was to be sold off by my old master. I did not understand why he was selling me. I thought that he loved me well; he had said so himself many times. My long dark hair and blue eyes he adored. And my beauty, he said often, was the finest in Rome. He said I was Rome's perfect boy...
But now! Standing in the heat and breathing the sweaty stink of the plebeians as they viewed me for purchase was unbearable. Dust and heat and flies, sunlight like cutting knives on my fair skin. I wore nothing more than a loincloth; a tight one to show off the shape of my penis and testicles. I was a beauty—I believed so myself—and I wished beyond all things that someone would come and buy me soon before I roasted in the sun and spoiled my skin. Magistrate Dorius, my old master, never let me out in the sun to spoil. My skin was milk to him and must not be set out to go rancid.
I looked down at the people viewing me—rich matrons and even richer men; they eyed my body, my face, my crotch. Even though I was slight in form, I was well hung with a good sized penis for my age—eighteen summers and all of my body without a touch of sun.
Hurry up and buy me!
Bargaining began between two matrons, but the women were stopped by a tall, lean man with short dark hair; he looked like a centurion to me even though he was not in his armor. I took eyes with him as I should not but I was so hot standing here, sweating a rivulet down my naked chest. The man eyed me very carefully. I saw him go to speak to my old master and begin bargaining a price. I could not hear them over the noise of the slave market but my heart began to race with excitement ... the tall man was so handsome and lean, muscled and powerful to look at. Yes, I was sure he was a centurion, for he carried a military bearing about him.
And he wanted me.
He bargained strongly, forcefully, and solidus coins were given out to my old master—how much did I sell for? I saw my old master smiling and laughing, so I must be a good price for him. I almost wept when he went off to sign the selling papers and not once did he look back at me. He had owned me for years, and now, not even a goodbye glance. My eyes filled with tears of sorrow, and a fly settled in the corner of my left eye. I squinted it away. The tall man came for me. My heart raced when I took eyes with him again. So handsome! Oh ... so handsome...
* * * *
My new master put me in a small wagon and ordered its driver to take me to his villa. When I arrived, I was amazed at the beauty of my new home—so many marble statues, and gardens and fountains, and a cool house with a cool interior, smelling of oils and sweet fragrances.
My first day. It was a delight I never expected, my first day with my new master. I was taken to a large cool room by an old man servant and told to wait. In the room was a carved chair, padded in red material, and a long leather couch along one wall. A tall chest by the window overlooked a long narrow and enclosed garden. On the chest sat an alabaster bowl with a tiny lid, a naked boy as its handle. A strange table with a padded top sat against one wall, free of adornments.
I waited with my heart still racing. I was thirsty too, but so nervous I did not ask for water when I should have. I did not sit on the chair for I was afraid I might soil it; I was not dirty as such, only dusty. My old master had bathed me well this morning for my selling, but even so, I tried to wipe away the dust of the market square from my skin. Then I stood and breathed away my anticipation—the master would soon come, I hoped.
And when he did, he was dressed in a light toga, and looking fine. The air of command I had felt before seemed very much his nature, even though I did not know him. He came to me, and closed the door behind him.
He said, “Ah, my new purchase. Your name is Marcus, and once kept as a thing of beauty by your old master. I am, of course, your new master, Antonius Caius Lucien, and I expect complete obedience and submission from all my boys."
"Yes, my lord.” I bowed my head to him, and swallowed hard, both from nerves and from thirst.
He noticed and said, “You are thirsty, of course."
He went to the door and called for water—it came soon in a tall bronze pitcher, carried by the old man servant, who poured a mug for me.
"Drink it then,” my new master ordered.
And I
did. I gulped it down and he gave a light laugh to see me drink.
"Have more, I do not starve or drive my boys to thirst. I do not treat my boys badly; you will live well with me, if you are obedient and submissive."
"My lord, I am, I thank you for your kindness, and for rescuing me from that terrible sun in the salve market."
"Yes, I could see you were suffering there; your skin is the finest I have ever seen on a boy—girls have such skins, but you..."
He began to walk around me, looking me up and down. He stopped behind me and took off my robes. He stripped me naked, his long fingers untying my loincloth and letting it fall to the floor. In my nakedness, he began to study me even more. To appraise me.
"Such fine flanks.” He ran his hands down my sides and then my outer thighs. “Such skin, such beauty! I swear, Marcus, you are the finest boy I have ever bought, and I do not say such things lightly, if ever at all. I have four other boys here. It was my custom to keep more, but they grew too much for me to handle ... now, I am talking too much. Show me yourself."
I turned for him, held out my arms. He came to me again and ran his hands down my legs, up my back and over my shoulders. He took me and moved me to the strange padded table, told me to bend over it, to lay my chest on its soft top and spread open my legs. Always, I obeyed my masters. But I had never taken such orders as this before. My heart raced and jumped, for my old master had never asked such things of me. My new master felt my buttocks and then slapped them hard. I shuddered.
"Good buttocks, pert and tight,” he said. “High and rounded, as I like them."
I could hear him breathing hard behind me. I felt his hand go between my legs and he began to fondle my testicles, to weigh them in his hand, roll them, pull them.
He said, “Good balls you have; but give me a few months and I will fill them and make them hang lower. I like my boys to have low hanging balls, and you need to weight them lower for my pleasure. Never mind for now, yours are near to perfect as they are."
"Thank you, my lord,” I whispered, as I had never known such words as this before; no man had ever fondled my testicles before or ever judged them for evaluation.
He said, “Call me ‘Master,’ not ‘my lord.’”
"Yes, my lor—Master."
"Good boy, now stay over the table top, keep your legs open and do not move."
He went away to the tall chest and the bowl that sat there. I could still see him when I turned my head. I watched him dip his fingers into the bowl and he began to wash his hands in the oily liquid within. He came back to me, and when he did, he stripped off his toga and stood only in an army kilt and nothing else. His chest was smooth and muscled, his legs strong and lean. He stood behind me and I felt him open my buttocks, to part them wide; he began fingering my anus, gently working a thumb around and around on the outer side. I quivered and shook and gasped: no man had ever touched me like this! Never! My old master never touched me, only looked at me, but I knew I could not, must not move. I must obey, and I did.
He said from behind me, his voice hoarse and low, “You are virgin tight; your old master did not penetrate you, Marcus?"
"No, Master, he did not.” I could only gasp and shiver as I felt his thumb circling my anus, and then down to my testicles and up again. He stopped circling, and I surprised myself that I did not want him to stop...
I could only lay still and gasp. And now ... what was he doing? Gently, so carefully, he inserted a finger into me; he pushed his long index finger into my anus, and began to feel inside me. I gasped again, shocked by how much I was loving his touch, this sudden and unlooked for touch, so intimate. My mouth dried and my eyes blurred with pleasure. He fingered me carefully, slowly moving in and out, his own breathing hard and fast. He took his finger out and I almost cried for him to put it back, please put it back, I begged inside...
And he did. Oh joy! He pushed his forefinger back deep into my anus, harder now and wiggled it fast, touching deeper, pushing deeper with quick hard thrusts. I felt his knuckles touch my rim, and he began thrusting his finger in and out to its full length. I gripped the edge of the table and gasped, and when he reached in deeper, I felt my penis throbbing and swelling.
"Good boy,” he said. “Good boy; open for me, do not resist,” and again, he pushed in.
Over and over again he thrust up my anus; two fingers this time, stretching me a little more, and I could not believe my response, for I was now moving close to orgasm.
"Oh Master!” I cried. “Please, it is so good!"
"I know it is. I am pleased with your response, Marcus, as you are unbroken, and I will stretch you a little wider over the coming weeks, but not today. Today, feel my fingers only. I do not wish to split you too soon, for you are a delicate beauty and must be broken in easily. But you are enjoying this now. I have other pleasures that I will give you, if you obey my every command and satisfy my every desire. Answer me; you will do everything I say."
"I will! Master, I will."
I was getting close to orgasm, as he did not stop his probing and thrusting fingers as he spoke; and finally, with his left hand he reached under and took my penis and jerked me very fast. One hand jerking my penis, the other, thrusting in and out of my anus, I gave a great wild cry of pleasure and spurted my cum through his fingers. I spurted again and again, crying aloud with pleasure. He milked me fast: my legs went weak, my head began to spin, I gasped and he slowly withdrew his fingers. The moment was so intense, I lay shivering over the padded tabletop.
He stroked my back to soothe me, he told me, “When you have recovered, sit on the floor and breathe slowly. I have something to give you. I have other things I will give you over time if you please me, Marcus, and today, you have pleased me well. Now sit on the floor."
I did not sit; I fell. My legs so weak with pleasure, I fell to the floor like a veil, and sat and rested against the leg of the table. I felt so strange inside; feelings I had never known before—light-headed, with a warm swelling feeling in my stomach and chest. My Master left the room, still wearing only his army kilt and nothing else.
With him gone, I looked down at my penis resting on my left thigh; still swollen and big, my cock-head still leaking my recent spilled milk. I had not expected such pleasure with this new master! So unlooked for, I had not even imagined it. Yes, I was a virgin—my old master's use of me was one of pleasure in my beauty only, to view me naked, but I was never, ever touched and never had I taken sexual experiences or pleasures such as this. I breathed down and controlled my passions. I felt sleepy and happy.
Soon my new master returned to the room, carrying a small box in one hand. Still I sat on the floor. He seemed pleased to see me here—that I had not moved.
He stopped and looked down at me. “I am more than pleased with your first day, Marcus. I am more than pleased I paid such a high price for you. I hope you will give me good value for my coins."
"I will, Master, I promise you I will. I wish to please you, to submit to your every desire. I too am pleased I am now yours."
"Good, I have registered you as my slave with the authorities. Now...” He opened the box he carried and put it down the floor at my side.
Inside I saw a fine collection of gold rings, large ones, much larger than the usual sizing for finger-rings. He studied my penis and then took a ring, gave it to me.
"This is a cock-ring; wear it for every session I have with you. You need not wear it all the time. But if I call for you, you must wear it. I have other gifts to give you as you please me. Now, your first day is over, and my manservant will take you to the bath-house. You will bathe twice a day, every day, whether I am home or not. You will bathe in the mornings after breakfast and again before supper, before sleeping. You will have your own room. You will meet my other boys in the bathhouse. Good day for now, Marcus."
And so saying, he stood up and left me, went out and shut the door on me, and I felt bereft without him. Already I had a feeling for him, to please him. All within less tha
n a day, I desired only to submit to his every wish. I prayed that he would return to me soon.
* * * *
The old manservant came and took me to my room in Master Antonius's villa: a small room, but much nicer than my old one. Here was an elegant iron-wrought bed, with fine Egyptian linen, a long bolster for a pillow, and a bronze bed-pot for pissing in. I had my own chest, a chair and table, and a beautiful marble statue of a naked youth in one corner. I even had my own window to overlook a tiny patio with pots of herbs growing. I was delighted and so happy now that I had been sold! Oh, I must somehow have pleased the Gods to be here; maybe Lord Cupid smiled on me for my beauty. Already here too were my clothes from my old master, and my sandals.
Within a moment, though, the old man servant was back to take me out again to the bathhouse. And I was afraid to meet the other boys that Master Antonius owned. Four boys only slightly older than I, sitting naked around the bath, on benches, talking low together. When I came in, they stopped and stared at me.
The old servant told me to disrobe and get down into the sunken bath and wash. My hair and body must be scrubbed; then after, he would use the strigil on my body. The bath was for relaxing and cleansing, and with the other boys watching me, I shrugged off my robes and slipped down into the water, so warm!
The boys eyed me and I eyed them back. Three of them were dark-haired and good to look at. The fourth was blonde and very beautiful but older, and he was the one who eyed me the most. He sat on his bench and looked at me without blinking. He then parted his thighs wide and displayed to me his massive member hanging free between his slim thighs, his low hanging testicles covered in soft dark golden hair.
He said, “I am Lucan; this is Dorian, and Allectus, and he is Adrian. And you are?"
"I am Marcus."
"Master's new boy, I see. How old are you, Marcus?"
"Eight and ten..."
"I am twenty and four, so Master is bored with me. Soon he will sell me and you are my replacement. I am not sure I care for you being here, but what choice do I have? When you grow to my age, Marcus, he will grow tired of you as well. What did he do to you in his special room—his playroom?"