Emperor's Fault
by Michal Altair Valášek

It was the Emperor's fault, Falco decided finally. Of course, only in privacy of his head, because saying such things aloud could bring him to far worse situations than he was now. Kneeling on cold stone floor of stable aisle was not great pleasure, but Falco knew about far worse things that could happen to impudent slaves. Quite a few of them he experienced personally, since his mouth was always faster than his head, when came to smartass responses.

But still, it was Emperor's fault for sure. The chariot racing was a great tradition of Rome and entire population - citizen, freedmen or slaves - was divided into zealous supporters of blue, green, red or white stables. There was nothing wrong with it. It was nothing wrong even with fighting games, the munera, where gladiators fought for amusement of crowds. But it was definitely a bad idea to bring the two together. 

(Historical fact: horse racing, the ludi circenses, was really very popular in ancient Rome and the four teams, factiones, had zealous fans not unlike modern professional football or baseball teams.)

And it was Emperor's idea, when he wanted to show the ever-hungry people of Rome something new. Instead of traditional feral horses, hitched in front of racing chariots, he commanded that two-legged slaves are to be used instead. And the crowd was enthusiastic about that. They just loved the sight of other people, being driven naked, just in their harnesses, during the race.

Gaius Lupus Aviola, Falco's master and rightful owner, was amazed and inspired. The life of stable boy in Lupus's house changed dramatically. Not only he had to take care for the horses, he was often required to be one of them. Well, he was horse by birth, of course, but there is still quite an important distinction between intelligent, two-legged horse-human and a four-legged animal. Being treated like the later was source of deep humiliation for Falco.

At first it started as a punishment - when his lupine master thought his slave was slacking off, he was punished by being treated and trained like a horse. But during the time, the misdemeanors were more and more ridiculous, and ended being just excuses.

So when he heard that he is to prepare Lupus's steed for a ride, he made a loud sigh. Of course, he prepared Brit, the beautiful stallion of his master, flawlessly. The chestnut coat was just shining after long and careful brushing and all the tack was squeaky clean. So he still had a small chance, he hoped, while kneeling before Brit's stall, waiting for their master to come, as ordered.

When Falco heard the sound of Lupus's caligae, the steeled military boots, remnants of military career of his wearer, he couldn't stop thought about that they were quite similar to horseshoes and that it would suit the wolf to change places for once. But again, he was wise enough to keep this remark to himself.

The wolf stepped into the stall and patted Brit without any remarks. "Bring me the whip, Falco!" he ordered. Falco's hopes started rising, since there were no objections to his work, so far. "Yes, sir," the slave replied and ran into a tack room for Lupus's riding crop. When he returned, the hopes were totally destroyed. On Brit's neck, in the middle of pristine fur, there was single straw of hay theatrically placed. It was worth nothing that Falco was sure that it was not his fault and that the straw wasn't there before.

"Seems like you were neglecting your duties again, stable boy," the wolf said, pointing to the offending straw. 

Falco said nothing, not trusting himself enough, so he lowered his head in seemingly apologetic gesture.

"It looks like I must punish you again, so you'll learn to perform your work to my standards. How fortunate that a whip does work the same way on all horses, regardless on how many legs they have. So, you know the drill!"

"Yes, Master. I'm sorry, sir." Of course he knew. He quickly stripped his tunic and bend over the railing.

The wolf whispered into his ear: "you just need to have red ass to work properly, don't you?"

Falco couldn't hold himself anymore. The carnivorous scent of a wolf was triggering his atavistic instinct and his treacherous body, unable to flight, simply transferred the energy into arousal. He didn't want it and definitely didn't like it, on conscious level, but his body felt different and the mind and ego had only consultative vote at most.

Lupus started with whipping, delivering rapid blows to naked backside of his equine slave, stopping only when the skin under Falco's black fur was red and hot to the touch.

"Now, bring your tack. I decided that I'll take you along, it seems you need training as well."

Before there was faint hope that the spanking would be enough, but now there wasn't any way to hide it: his master was in the mood and Falco will enjoy it to full extent. Falco couldn't help but to let a deep sigh leave his lungs - there wasn't anything more to lose anyway and brought his own harness from the tack room, as commanded. 

He hated - and in some sense admired - that thing. He hated it, because the bit in his mouth and harness binding the body was animalizing him, stripping him from his humanity. On the other way, the harness was great piece of craftsmanship and matched perfectly the one Brit had. Trying to see silver lining of every cloud, Falco started to take pride on the fact that his master cared for him as much as for his prized stallion.

(Historical fact: Falco was right for being proud. Regular saddle horse was worth about 3000 sestertii, trained stallion like Brit would be far more expensive. Common slave, such as Falco, could be bought for some 400-800 sestertii. During reign of Marcus Aurelius, one sestertius valued about eight grams of gold.)

"Good boy. Now bend over again, I think you need a reminder that this isn't a regular training, but that you're being punished."

With these words Lupus lubed the fairly big wooden phallus, attached to the harness and slowly pushed it to poor horse's ass. Then he tightened all the straps and buckles of harness, making sure that every move would be transferred to the phallus and punished slave would feel every step.

Bridle and bit came next. Falco didn't resisted - partly because it was simply futile, partly because he slowly entered the strange mindscape, where he was simply proud steed of his master, showing off. The last were his arms, considered useless they were bound to his harness.

"You look simply amazing, Falco! I have heard that the new Egyptian ambassador can appreciate fine stallions, so when I'll show him you and Brit, he'll be impressed."

Egyptian embassy was outside the city gates, across the entire city of Rome. And he would be led on rein trough the crowded streets...

Falco closed his eyes, in deep conflict between human humiliation and equine pride. Finally, he made firm decision: if it was good for the Emperor, he was worth it. He opened his eyes, now full of stallion pride, and two horses with their master walked into the sun.