Zelamir

Helot

The Adventures of Ayas the Slave-boy

Chapters 8-14

Chapter 8

Misinus rested his hand on the back of one bare thigh, feeling the boy shrink at his touch. Ayas skin was cool against the palm of his hand. He noticed that fear had roughened the child's normally smooth skin with goose pimples. The boy's bottom was still raw from his last beating. Danas had washed and dressed his rump so there was no blood but it was a mass of purple and dark blue bruises ribbed with angry deep red stripes. He moved his hand upwards until it reached the point where the boy's brown skin was disfigured by a greenish yellow tinge as the underlying bruising came out. He paused and then slid his hand a fraction higher so that it was resting on the top of Ayas' bottom.

This was the area where the belt had done the most damage and this part of the child looked more like a lump of raw meat on a butcher's slab than the tight, sweetly curved, boy's bottom that had set Ocytus heart racing when he first caught a glimpse of it. Ayas whimpered in expectation of what was to come.

Misinus realised that he would have to be careful or he would finish up marking Ayas permanently. To set against this the suffering inflicted on the boy by even a few strokes across his bottom would be considerable. It would be like cutting with the cane at an open wound. A beating should hurt and this one would most certainly do that. He deliberately clenched his hand digging his fingertips hard into the boy's already tortured flesh. Ayas yelped in pain and Misinus smiled grimly at this confirmation of his thoughts.

"That's nothing to what you're going to get," he said and landed a hard open handed smack on Ayas' sore rump, extorting a further howl from the boy. He took a step back and began to set himself to flog the brat in earnest.

Measuring the distance carefully he laid the cane across the top of Ayas' bottom. The boy shivered and tensed at the touch, exaggerating the dimples on either side of his bum. Misinus lifted the cane back over his right shoulder. He paused, looking down at Ayas naked and utterly vulnerable, his slight frame frozen in terror, and then, gritting his teeth, he brought the cane down with all the strength he could muster across the boy's defenceless rump. The whistle of the cane as it descended was followed by the sharp and unmistakable crack of wood striking firm young flesh. Callias staggered forward under the weight of the blow. Ayas' feet jerked upwards as the pain convulsed his body. The sharp snap of the cane against bare tightly stretched skin was followed by a brief moment of total silence as Ayas fought for breath and then he screamed shrilly.

Misinus stood waiting till the boy was still again. There was no hurry. He wanted to be sure that Ayas, so far as possible would experience the terror and pain of each succeeding stroke as vividly and as acutely as he had done the first. He noticed that the visible effect of the cane's impact on the child's already raw and bruised bottom was different from when it was striking more virgin territory. Usually a white line would appear as the force of the blow drove the blood away from the point of impact. This would turn an angry red when the blood flooded back into the affected area that deepened at its edges as the bruising developed to purple and dark blue. Now though the cane, biting into flesh that was already deeply discoloured by bruising, seemed to score an immediate crimson slash across the boy's cruelly savaged skin. A line from which blood welled and trickled down the brat's bottom.

Observing this Misinus recognised he would need to take more precautions or the boy's bottom would be so damaged that not even Danas' skill and potions would allow it to heal cleanly. Above all he would have to guard against laying one stroke across or over another for to do so would be to carve too deep.

It is not easy to deliver a cut of the cane with force and accuracy even on an inanimate object. When the target is a small screaming boy, whose body twists and jerks as the thrashing proceeds it becomes immeasurably more difficult. This is especially so if the victim is, as Ayas was, mounted on the shoulders of another boy who is liable to be thrown off balance by the contortions of his unwilling rider and the force of the blows.

Misinus stood a moment or two considering the problem while Ayas sobbed quietly waiting, trembling and sick with terror, for the next stripe. Misinus glanced at Ocytus. It was clear that the spectacle of Ayas' suffering had had its desired effect on the youth. He stood his whole attention concentrated on the boy, his eyes glinting, a small stream of saliva trickling down his chin from his parted lips, his cock now so swollen that it seemed it was in imminent danger of exploding. Misinus decided that the time had come to involve him in the boy's punishment. What was more Ocytus was a strong lad and would play his part well.

"You," Misinus ordered, "Come here. Take hold of Ayas' ankles and hold him steady for me."

Ocytus, who had assisted in and indeed had suffered such punishments in the past, knew exactly what was required. Stooping down he took a firm grip of a slim ankle in each hand. Then he straightened and with his hands down on each side of his hips moved backwards. The blood drummed loudly in his head as he looked down at Ayas' firm young body stretched between Callias and himself. Viewed from where he stood the boys slightly parted legs afforded intriguing glimpses of the most intimate and exciting recesses of the child's body.

Misinus once again raised the cane over his shoulder. Ayas, sensing his father's movement, struggled wildly to escape. Ocytus, fighting to control the boy's flailing legs, could see Callias in his turn struggling to keep Ayas firmly lodged on his back. The child was screaming even before the rod began it's descent. Ocytus, fascinated, watched the cane as Misinus brought it slashing down across his young son's already battered rump. It bit into the boy's raw flesh drawing blood instantly. Where the rod's tip curled round to nip the side of Ayas' bottom with added force a spray of tiny red droplets glittered in the air.

Misinus, grunting with effort, laid stripe upon stripe across the squirming boy's bottom, the cries of the child in its agony rising over the rich sibilant hiss of the rod as it fell and the sharp crack of wood striking naked flesh. Ocytus lost count of the strokes as the cane carved bloody slashes across Ayas' rump. By the time Misinus had done the boy's bottom was a mass of bleeding weals. He stood for a moment looking down at the child's ravaged bottom.

"All right," Misinus said once he had recovered his breath, "you can let go of the brat now."

Released from the two youths' grip Ayas collapsed onto his hands and knees on the ground between them. He crouched there sobbing loudly.

Misinus turned his gaze on Ocytus. The youth's chest glistened with sweat, from the effort of holding Ayas' body steady for the cane. Misinus noticed that a bead of moisture had formed at the tip of Ocytus rampant cock.

"You," Misinus flicked Ocytus across the front of his thigh with the tip of the cane, "Get the boy up. I want him facing me with his feet off the ground so I can finish thrashing him."

At these words Ayas, who had thought his punishment was over, wailed loudly sending Callias and Lichas into paroxysms of gleeful laughter.

Ocytus bending forward and slipping his arms beneath Ayas' locked his hands behind the boy's neck. Straightening he lifted the child's feet clear of the floor. He could feel Ayas bottom, damp and warm with fresh blood, pressing against his crutch. Ocytus adjusted the boy so that his erect cock was comfortably arranged lying long the cleft of the brat's rump.

"Turn him to face me," Misinus ordered.

Misinus transferred the cane to his left hand. He reached out, laying his free hand on the side of Ayas chest, feeling the fragile ribs under the tightly stretched skin and the wild fluttering of the young boy's heart. Misinus forgot his own servitude as he revelled in his consciousness of his total power over the child.

"There is nothing, nothing at all, that is denied me," Misinus told himself the blood roaring in his head. "Nothing that I cannot do to he child."

Ayas caught sight of his father's face and began to sob in terror at what he saw there. A stream of amber fluid jetted from his tiny prick to form a damp steaming patch on the bare earth.

"Ayas has peed himself," Callias shouted in derision. "Little baby Ayas has peed himself," and he and Lichas went off into further hoots of laughter.

"Filthy little brute," Misinus, on whom some of Ayas' urine had splashed, said angrily. The two boys fell suddenly silent. They did not want Misinus to think they were laughing at him. It was safe enough to jeer at Ayas but their father was a very different matter.

Misinus smiled grimly. He wanted to be feared by his family. It was the only way he knew of maintaining his authority over them. Certainly it was the easiest way to do so. Perhaps with Callias in particular it was the only way. He turned his attention back to tormenting Ayas. The more he made the boy suffer the more he would be feared by the others. It was an effective and he had to admit, enjoyable way of keeping his family in order.

He moved his hand across the child's narrow chest until he felt a small hard boy's nipple against his palm. He took it between his finger and thumb.

"Father, please, please don't…," Ayas began, his broken pleadings turning into a gasp of pain as Misinus tightened his grip and twisted.

Ocytus moaned but with pleasure not pain, as the boy writhed in his grasp. The child's bare rump pressed and wriggling against his own already throbbing cock raised his excitement to new heights of intensity. Ocytus realised that every pain induced contortion of the boy's body would create a reciprocal but opposite increase in his own emotions. He wondered how long he would manage to postpone the inevitable explosion.

Misinus released his grip on Ayas' nipple. He stepped back hefting the cane, feeling its move in his hand almost like a life creature eager to strike and tear. He looked at the two boy's facing him, one a youth on the verge of manhood, his face drained of expression, eyes blank with lust, the other a child in a state of abject terror. He knew very well the effect that Ayas' pain induced contortions were having on Ocytus. It amused him to think that he was masturbating his youthful slave at the same time as he thrashed his son.

Suddenly he lashed the cane hard across Ayas' chest. The boy's mouth opened in a soundless scream and he drew up his knees in a reflex reaction to the pain tearing through his body. Misinus saw Ocytus face twist in a lust induced rictus as this movement simultaneously pressed the boy's bottom even harder into his crutch and widened the cleft along which his swollen cock rode.

Misinus waited until Ocytus had regained temporary control of himself and then brought the cane cracking down once more across the boy's chest. The tip of the cane curled round the side of the child's rib cage and nipping the tightly stretched skin, drawing blood. Again the boy's knees jerked upwards bringing Ocytus yet nearer to the moment of crisis.

Misinus cut and cut again at the screaming, writhing boy. He took little care to lay the strokes parallel or to avoid cross cutting. Ayas chest had not been, unlike his bum, subjected to a savage earlier flogging. Misinus knew that it would be well within Danas' capacity to repair any damage that he was capable in these circumstances of inflicting on their son's chest. He concentrated therefore on stoking the fires of Ocytus lust and let the stripes accumulate pretty well as they would across his son's ribs and stomach.

Soon the front and sides of the boy's upper body were disfigured with angry welts raised by the crop. Blood trickled from where the rod had torn the child's skin forming dark red rivulets over the deeply tanned skin of his chest and flanks. Suddenly Ocytus head jerked back, his eyes glazed and his body arched. He thrust forward, jetting his seed along the cleft of Ayas' bottom to spill over the small of the boy's back, forming a warm sticky seal between their two bodies.

"Danas," Misinus commanded his wife, "see to the boy. You, Ocytus stay here till she takes him from you. The rest of you … we've got work to do."

Ocytus was left alone with the boy as Danas ducked into the hut to prepare her lotions and Misinus led the rest of the family out to the fields. He was still standing with his arms hooked under Ayas' shoulders his hands locked behind the boy's neck. Suddenly he was aware that his shoulders were aching from the effort of bearing Ayas' full weight, slight though the boy was. He lowered the child till his feet were touching the ground taking some of the weight off his own arms. He stood like that for a little time listening to the sound of Danas bustling about inside the hut while Ayas whimpered quietly to himself.

Ocytus began to feel a rising irritation with the boy's sobbing. He should, Ocytus thought, have taken his beating better than that, severe though it was. Then he reminded himself that the brat was only a Helot whelp. Nothing better could be expected of such a creature. A freeborn boy would scorn to cry at such a thrashing. Nothing of the sort could be expected of Ayas. Born a Helot he naturally lacked the courage and pride that would allow, indeed require, him to bear his punishment stoically. If the brat was to be hushed and the nuisance of his sobbing stopped it would have to be by petting, as you would any other hurt and frightened little animal, rather than an appeal to his pride, of which he had none.

Furthermore, cowardly snivelling slut though Ayas was, Ocytus was intensely aware that he was also a pretty and a hot one. Danas was still busy in the hut, Misinus and the rest of the family were out of sight working somewhere on the fields. Ocytus who was a vigorous young sixteen-year-old with all the animal passions of the species was already beginning to feel his blood stir again.

Supporting Ayas with one arm around his shoulders Ocytus bent and slipping his other arm behind the boy's knees lifted him so that he was cradled against his chest. He looked down at the child and smiled. He found the brat's face, distorted by pain and distress, to be both comical and strangely arousing. Tears glinted in the boy's eyes and had wet and stained his cheeks. Mucus dribbled from his nose. The corners of his mouth were twisted downwards in a grimace of misery and distress. At some time during his flogging he had in his agony bitten into his lower lip. A slick, formed of snot, blood and saliva, glistened damply on his chin.

Ocytus bent down and kissed the boy on his mouth. Ayas responded with fierce intensity as he sought from Ocytus the love and comfort that his father had denied him. Twisting in the youth's arms he locked his arms about his neck. Ocytus cock hardened yet again as he slipped his tongue between the child's open lips.

"Bring him in here now," Danas was standing in the doorway of the hut.

Chapter 9

He was not particularly embarrassed at being caught kissing Ayas by the brat's mother nor by his own erect cock. The woman was a Helot and what else did she expect if she, somehow or other, managed to produce a good-looking boy?

Danas' next words showed that he had read the situation correctly.

"Put him down on his knees. I don't want any dirt getting in the open cuts before I dress them and then get out. I can see you have plenty of energy. I don't know how you boys manage it. You can work it off in the fields, not playing with Ayas. Now get along with you."

The woman's voice was amused rather than angry. Indeed Danas took it as rather a compliment that Ocytus had taken a fancy to her son. After all he had been born free and would no doubt be free again soon. She had been told by Misinus of his plans to make money from restoring Ocytus to his parents and selling Ayas and heartily approved of them. She was as aware as anybody of the difference even a small amount of money would make to their lives once they had shaken off the Spartan tyranny. It would be ungrateful to the Gods that had blessed them with a pretty boy not to sell the child for the best price they could get.

Grinning broadly Ocytus slipped from the hut and began to make his way to the fields. He did not of course know Misinus' plan to make money out of him and Ayas. He sensed however that, though still lowly, his standing with his master and his family had improved and that his friendship with the boy would at least be tolerated.

The latter was confirmed when returning from the fields at dusk he found a very sore little boy already curled up half asleep in the corner of the hut that he and Ayas had made their own the previous evening. After jostling with Callias and the other children for a share of the watery barley porridge that formed their evening meal he stretched himself on the ground beside Ayas.

He waited until the fire burnt down leaving the hut in almost total darkness before placing his hand on one small bare hip. Ayas whimpered quietly. No doubt Ocytus thought he had touched an open sore. The state the brat was in it would have been hard to avoid doing so, even if he had taken the trouble to try.

Satisfied the boy was awake Ocytus put a hand behind his head and gently but firmly guided the child's face down into his crutch.

"I'm sore. Do I have to?" Ayas whined.

Ocytus did not bother to reply but maintained the pressure on the back of the boy's head. Of course Ayas had to. He had a need and it was the brat's task to satisfy it. The slut Ocytus thought, as the boy's lips closed about his cock, had much to learn. It would be fun teaching him.

The next night and many following nights Ocytus was in no fit state to teach Ayas anything. Misinus had plans for Ocytus' future that required the youth to be returned to his family in reasonable condition but that did not mean that he was not going to have to earn his keep. Ocytus ended his first day between the shafts of the plough with his shoulders deeply galled by the traces, his back bloodied by the goad and his legs and flanks caked with mud. The only thing Misinus spared him was the hot iron for, effective though that was in extracting the last ounce of strength from an exhausted slave, it left a permanent mark. After Danas had done her best to dress Ocytus' cuts it was all he could do to crawl away to his corner of the hut.

All things though come to an end and eventually the ploughing was completed. There was still plenty of work to do, there was never a time on the farm when there was not, but it was lighter work than ploughing and Ocytus had time and energy to take Ayas in hand. He still postponed the penetration of the boy for he knew that the cries of the child, if he did so inside the hut, would rouse Misinus. He made no attempt to hide his affection for the boy and this did not seem to disturb the man. However there was a great difference between quietly petting a boy in a corner of a dark hut and ramming your cock into the child's virgin bottom. Ocytus was not at all sure what Misinus' reaction would be if he was woken by his son's frantic screaming as he ploughed the child's rump. He made it clear however to the boy that his enjoyment of his bottom was merely postponed not permanently foregone. News that never failed to frighten and excite the child, prompting nervous queries as to whether it would hurt a lot and pleas that he should be gentle. It amused Ocytus to note that the boy did not appear to be reassured by his promise that when the day came he would be allowed a piece of wood to bite on so as to help him to stifle his cries.

Meanwhile Ocytus concentrated in developing Ayas' skills as a cock-sucker and he had to admit that the boy was an apt and eager pupil. In the dark corner of the hovel, the only light the dimly glowing embers of the dying fire, night after night Ayas brought the youth to the point of orgasm and beyond. Ayas would lie still beside his lover, his body aching for Ocytus touch, waiting in the darkness, listening, knowing that when the other children had stopped whispering and the only sound was that of his father's snores and the rustling of the wind in the thatch, Ocytus would reach out and draw him to him. Then he would go to him eagerly; locking his arms about the youth's neck, seeking for and finding his lips, Ocytus tongue shooting snake like into his mouth. For a time they would lie there, feasting on each other's lips while Ocytus' hands caressed and probed his body. Then a pat on the bottom, a light touch on the shoulder or a whispered command and Ayas would break the embrace. He would work his way down the youth's body, his lips nuzzling first Ocytus' neck, then his chest. If the opportunity was allowed him he would pause to tease a nipple or explore Ocytus' belly button with his tongue. Ocytus' hand, pressing down on the top of his head, would guide it downwards till his lips brushed against the small forest of coarse hair that the youth's crutch.

Sometimes Ocytus would spread his legs and raise his knees giving Ayas access to the sensitive skin behind his balls. The boy's nostrils would be filled with musty animal odours as he licked and nuzzled there.

What Ayas liked best though were the occasions when Ocytus steered him to one side so that he had to kneel beside the youth, his face buried in his crutch, his bum lifted high in the air. Then, while he sucked on the youth's swollen rod, Ocytus would rest a hand on the curve of his raised bottom causing Ayas to shiver with anticipation before running his finger nail along the boy's open crack and gently probing the entry to his hole. Ocytus finger tip working inside him raised in Ayas' mind premonitions of the time, not too far distant he was sure, when his body would suffer a considerably more extensive and painful invasion.

That time had not yet come and, as Ayas awaited it with tremulous excitement, he did his best to please his hero and lover with his mouth. For Ocytus was his lover in the sense that he, Ayas, had given his heart to him. He was not to know that to Ocytus in his arrogance he was no more than a boy whore to be enjoyed and then, when something better offered, to be discarded.

Ocytus cock was not the tool of a full-grown man. It was not as large as Misinus' massive prick or Xionedes cruelly curved tool but it was still a formidable mouthful for an eleven year old boy to manage. Ayas had learnt to take it's full length into his mouth and down into the back of his throat. He had learnt to use his throat, his tongue and his lips to massage and excite the throbbing rod of swollen flesh that filled his mouth. His fingers and hands too would not be idle, roaming the youth's body, teasing and caressing as opportunity offered. He had learnt as well to sense, from the tensing of his thigh muscles and sudden movements of his balls as well as the surging of blood within his distended member, the moment when Ocytus was approaching climax. When he spotted this he would deliberately slow the pace of his exertions as he tried to delay the moment of crisis, extending Ocytus lust induced ecstasy for as long as possible.

Ayas found in the gasps and broken cries of Ocytus as he approached his delayed orgasm confirmation that the youth returned his love. Ocytus thought only a tart could be so good at sucking cock.

The days and weeks passed. The storms and cold of winter were replaced by the warmth of the Mediterranean spring. The sun warmed the freshly tilled soil and the corn so laboriously sown began to sprout. There was work still to do on the land, there was always work to do, but it was a little less urgent and less concentrated.

Ayas' days were spent guarding the sprouting corn from marauding birds and straying goats. It was lonely, tedious work but not exhausting. He normally took up his station at the top of the cornfield. He would squat there with a supply of throwing stones ready to hand rising to his feet occasionally to hurl a rock at any bird who dared to land on the field. At the far end of the field, beyond a narrow stretch of golden sand, the sea glittered in the strong sunlight. In the heat of the day the sight of the cool water lapping the beach presented a continual temptation to the all but naked eleven-year-old as he crouched, seeking shelter from the blistering sun, in the shadow of the dry stone wall. A temptation that he did not succumb to however for the memory of his thrashing remained very clear in his mind and he was not going to risk incurring his father's anger again.

It was the end of May and Ayas was feeling rather pleased with himself. A skilful, or perhaps lucky, throw had hit a crow and the black feathered carcass of the bird was lying beside him on the ground. It would make a welcome addition, carrion though it was, to the family stew pot. Ayas glanced up at the sun trying to judge how much longer he had to endure the boredom of his task and even more importantly how soon he could return to the hut and get something to eat. The sun was almost directly overhead. He had more than half the day to go. He settled back in the narrow strip of shade that was all the wall now offered by way of shelter from the sun and began to daydream. He was back at the hut his mother was exclaiming excitedly at the dead crow, his father was praising his kill as a stone thrower, Ocytus was looking at him admiringly…

He was brought back to the present by the sight of Ocytus coming along the track towards the field. Ayas was not surprised to see the youth walking by himself. He had proved himself to be a good worker and Misinus increasingly trusted him to work alone. Ayas jumped to his feet and stooping to snatch up the dead crow set off at the run to meet Ocytus.

"Look what I've got Ocytus," he shouted excitedly waving the bird in the air as soon as he got with earshot.

"We'll put it in the stew tonight. We'll have meat," he cried his voice cracking in excitement at the prospect as he drew up panting beside his friend.

"Very good. Well done," Ocytus managed to sound enthusiastic, although he had been used to finer fare than stewed carrion.

"What are you doing here Ocytus and where's the rest of them?" Ayas asked somewhat breathlessly.

"Your father's got them hoeing under the olive trees. All except Callias, he's been sent to Xionedes' farm on some errand or other. I've been sent to build up the field wall. It's broken down at places and your father is afraid the goats will get in and eat the corn. Callias will come down and help when he gets back."

"I'm here. I'll stop the goats getting in," Ayas said indignantly and then his mind switching direction in the instant. "I hope Callias will be all day at Xionedes. We don't want him here."

"He's only just set off so it'll be a couple of hours before he'll be back at least," Ocytus replied reassuringly if a bit wearily.

He was becoming rather bored by Ayas. He was good to fuck in the mouth and Ocytus was determined to take him in the bum as well as soon as the opportunity presented itself. However he found the boy's almost constant companionship and seeking for attention very irritating. In his opinion the slut was good for sex but nothing much else.

He was fed up as well with the continued feuding between the two boys in which Ayas looked to him to be his champion. Callias made no attempt to hide his enmity and was always on the look out for opportunities to vent his spite by engineering minor 'accidents.' To an extent indeed he could sympathise with Callias. He was Ayas' elder brother, a great deal bigger and stronger, than the younger boy. In Ocytus' book the strong had certain rights over the weak and Callias could have expected to do very much what he wanted with Ayas were it not for his own presence. It was not surprising that Callias resented him.

Indeed in many ways he felt he would prefer Callias as a companion. At least he was more his age. With him he would not have to put up with Ayas' chatter and attention seeking.

It was true that Callias together with his younger brother had taken pleasure in tormenting him when he first arrived at the farm but Ocytus did not really bear a grudge about that. A new slave could expect a bit of rough treatment. He'd had some fun himself in his time at the expense of new drafts arriving at his own father's farm. Anyway, what with one thing and another, he'd pretty well paid them back for that.

What he would like to do was to make peace with Callias while keeping Ayas for his whore. He thought he saw how he could achieve both of these and in the very near future.

As he was thinking Ayas had fallen in beside him and was chattering away excitedly. He didn't pay much attention to what the boy was saying, which seemed mainly concerned with the crow he had killed and how good it would taste in the evening stew. There was a moments silence and he realised the boy had asked a question and was waiting for an answer.

"Sorry, I missed that Ayas what did you say?"

"I said Ocytus, if Callias is going to be away for a couple of hours and the rest of them are hoeing the olive grove we could go for a swim and they wouldn't ever notice."

Ocytus hesitated weighing up the various possibilities. It was very hot and toiling at lifting rocks to build the dry stone wall in the glare of the midday sun was far from appealing. On the other hand Misinus would make short work of them if he caught them in the sea.

"And maybe there'd be time for something else as well if you wanted," the boy hurried on, smiling suggestively up into his face and running the tip of his tongue along his lips.

"All right then," Ocytus said putting his hand on the child's shoulder and turning him to face the sea. "The something else first and then the swim."

"All right," Ayas replied cheerfully. "I'll show you the way down to the beach."

Ocytus followed the boy along the narrow path. The scrap of goatskin round the child's hips only just reached the crease of his bottom when he was standing upright. Every now and again Ayas had to bend forward to steady himself when he scrambled over a rock and then the goatskin would ride up his rump in the most provocative way. Ocytus could see grease glistening round the boy's anus. He knew that Danas was very conscientious in following Xionedes instruction in that respect.

Ocytus could not stand it any longer. Reaching out he caught hold of the boy's flimsy covering and pulled it away from his waist. Ayas let out a squeak of not wholly displeased surprise.

"This time I will fuck your bottom," Ocytus announced firmly dropping the goatskin on the path.

"Will it hurt a lot Ocytus?" Ayas asked nervously as he stepped down on the sand, repeating a question he had often asked in the past.

"Not too much provide you don't fight it." Ocytus replied easily. "Anyway when you're my slave I'll fuck you two or three times a day so you'd better get used to it. Now get down on your knees and rest your head on the sand with your bottom up in the air."

Chapter 10

"I don't know Ocytus," he said rather nervously, "if I'll ever be your slave."

"Not be my slave you silly little tart," Ocytus burst out half angry, half laughing. "What do you think you are. You're just a little slave boy not something really valuable like a racehorse. When I'm free I'll either take you with me as spoils of war or buy you from Xionedes… depends on whether my parents ransom me or I'm freed by a Theban victory over Sparta. You won't cost too much anyway. You're a pretty brat but there are plenty more like you."

Ayas shifted on his feet. He admitted the truth of what Ocytus had said but that only made his self appointed task more difficult.

"I know Ocytus," he sad earnestly, "but things can change… not everything always stays the same – does it?"

"And some things never change," Ocytus retorted now laughing outright. "You were born a Helot and you'll die one. You know what happens to little slave boys who begin to get above themselves? They get their bottoms smacked and I think I had better smack yours now."

He made a grab at Ayas and the smaller boy, giggling with excitement, dodged his grasp. Ayas had done his best to explain things to Ocytus. If the youth wouldn't take notice it wasn't his fault. When the time came when the Spartans were finally defeated and the Helots at last achieved their freedom he would be able to say to Ocytus that he had tried to warn him. Now though was the time for some fun. Ayas darted off pursued by the bigger youth. Along the beach, they ran their bare feet thudding on the firm sand. The scrap of cloth about Ocytus waist rose up as he ran revealing that he was in a state of high sexual excitement. Ayas' nakedness left no room for doubt that the boy was in a similar condition.

Ayas twisted and turned as he dodged about evading the youth's grasp. They were at the edge of the water, their flying feet throwing up showers of silver spray. Ocytus saw the water drops glistening in the sunlight as they formed little rivulets trickling down the fleeing boy's nut brown shoulders and legs and hardly less tanned bottom. Ocytus was the bigger and faster but Ayas was small and agile and lithe as an eel. Three or four times Ocytus grabbed at the child only to have him slip from his grasp.

How long the chase would have lasted if it had been in earnest and indeed whether the boy would eventually have escaped cannot be known. Ayas sensing that the youth was beginning to slow managed to trip himself up in turning and fell headlong into the shallow water. He knelt there on his hands and knees panting, waiting to be caught. Ocytus swooped on the crouching boy. Rapping his right arm round Ayas' waste Ocytus lifted him up, the boy's face to his own rear. Balancing the wriggling child against his hip Ocytus began to carry Ayas, bare arms and legs thrashing, up the beach.

Ocytus slapped the boy hard on his upturned bottom.

"Stop that," he ordered, "be still."

Ayas emitted a squeal in which apprehension and excitement were nicely mixed.

"Ocytus please don't," he pleaded. "I'll do anything you want."

"Of course you will," Ocytus replied easily, "you haven't any choice. But first you're going to learn what happens to pretty little slave brats who forget their places."

Ocytus reached the low cliff at the top of the beach. He found a rock and sat down. Catching hold of Ayas by the wrist, he felt the boy's bones small and fragile in his grasp. He drew Ayas down so that the boy was lying across his left knee his legs trapped between his own. The fragment of cloth around Ocytus' waste had rucked up leaving his crutch exposed. He manoeuvred the child so that his own swollen cock was resting comfortably against the side of the boy's bare rump. He could feel the boy's tiny prick, erect and hard pressing against the inside of his thigh. Resting the palm of his right hand on the curve of the child's rump he felt the skin cool and smooth to the touch.

"Do you really think I'm pretty Ocytus?" Ayas' asked faintly, his voice rather muffled, as his head was hanging only a few inches above the ground.

"Yes very pretty with a nice round bottom that I'm going first to spank and then to fuck."

Ocytus put his left hand on the small of the Ayas' back, pinning him down, while his right hand caressed the child's rump. He smiled as he felt the boy tense the muscle's in his bottom in anticipation of the coming assault.

Ayas, held down across Ocytus knee, was seething with conflicting emotions. He felt so vulnerable and helpless as he lay there, the youth's hand exploring his naked bottom, and yet so, somehow, content. If Ocytus had at that moment lifted his hand from the small of his back Ayas would have made no attempt to escape. There was something deeply satisfying in just being there, in surrendering himself so utterly and unequivocally to Ocytus whom he loved. He hoped that Ocytus would not smack him or, at least, not smack him very hard. He hoped also that if the youth fucked him it would not hurt too much, but the thought of being smacked was almost as arousing and as frightening as the prospect of being penetrated by Ocytus.

"There's no need to spank me Ocytus. There really isn't. I'll be a good boy and do just as you say," Ayas pleaded somewhat breathlessly, the same edge of excitement in his voice.

"But there's every need to spank you Ayas and to spank you very hard. That's the way a pretty slut like you is taught his place."

This speech of Ocytus was punctuated by a series of open handed slaps of ever increasing force on Ayas' upturned bottom. The final one was delivered with such violence that the sound of the palm of Ocytus' hand cracking down on the boy's tightly stretched rump echoed round the bay.

Ayas' held down, squirming, across the youth's knee under this rain of blows, pleaded with increasing urgency for mercy. At first the smacks did no more than sting and his pleas were not wholly serious and were interspersed with giggling. The giggling though got progressively less until it ceased altogether while the protests and wriggling became more desperate.

"Oh Ocytus that hurt," Ayas cried out trying, somewhat ineffectually, to shield his bottom from further assault with his hands.

And it did, not as much as the cane when his father beat him, but enough to bring tears to his eyes. Yet, despite the tears, despite the pain, there was still that strange feeling of rightness, of contentment, that somehow came from being so completely in the older boy's power, that the smacks, painful though they were, seemed only to emphasise.

"It was meant to," Ocytus replied grimly. He caught hold of the Ayas' wrists with his left hand forcing them up the boy's back. He paused for a moment to admire the smooth curves of the child's bottom, the brown skin given a reddish flush from the impact of his own hand, lying raised, so invitingly, across his knee. Then lifting his hand as high over his shoulder as he could he brought it down in a series of stinging blows across the boy's defenceless bum. Ayas squealed and writhed under the blows. The wriggling of the naked boy, trapped between Ocytus' legs, kindled in the youth the most exquisite sensations that were further aroused by the cries of the child and the display of youthful charms that his contortions so openly afforded.

However all good things have to come to an end sometime. In time Ocytus' right arm tired and the palm of his hand began to sting.

He released the boy and tipped him back onto his feet. Ayas crouched on the ground between his legs sobbing quietly. Ocytus took the child's head between his hands and tipped it back so that he looked down into it. Tears brimming in the boy's eyes gave the child an added beauty, as tears so often do to those who can appreciate the erotic potential of the sufferings of the weak and defenceless. Ocytus bent forward and kissed the boy full on his open lips. Ayas responded fiercely winding his arms tight around the youth's neck.

"Now down on your knees whore and get ready to have your bum fucked," Ocytus ordered pushing the boy away from him. "Elbows on the ground and get your bottom up in the air."

This time Ayas did not protest or waste time asking pointless questions about whether 'it' was going to hurt. As the boy turned so that he could present his bottom to him Ocytus caught a glimpse of his small twig like prick quivering, rigid and eager, almost vertically erect in front of him. Ocytus smiled. The slut was ripe and ready for enjoyment.

Obediently Ayas got down on the ground. He knelt there, his face so close to the beach that he could see the individual grains of sand. He was very nervous and at the same time intensely excited. His lust had already been thoroughly roused by his rough but erotically charged treatment. To be pinned down across Ocytus' knee to have his bare rump spanked had been moderately painful but also thoroughly arousing. Even as his bottom jumped and quivered under the stinging impact of Ocytus' palm his cock, rubbing against the youth's bare thigh, grew ever harder. His excitement was increased further by the feel of the youth's swollen rod pressing against the side of his naked bottom.

Now though he could only wait offering himself to the older boy. He knew that there was no escape and indeed he did not want to escape, but he hoped that, when the time came and Ocytus took his pleasure, it would not hurt too much. His throat was tight with fear and he seemed to have difficulty in breathing.

Ocytus stood a moment looking down at Ayas, admiring the delicacy so unconditionally offered him. The sight of the boy, so helpless, so vulnerable, so utterly at his mercy, heightened his own lust still further.

He dropped to his knees behind the boy. Ayas, sensing the movement, stirred and arching his back forced his bottom up a further fraction of an inch. A strange almost whinnying noise came from the boy, half moan, half whimper, speaking in equal measure of lust and fear.

"You want my cock slut and you're going to get it. If you want to make it a little easier push out now as if you're having a shit," Ocytus ordered roughly.

He spat on the palm of his hand and spread the saliva liberally over his throbbing prick. Taking his penis between his finger and thumb he guided its tip so that it was pressed against the lips of the boy's already greased anus. Prizing Ayas' bottom open with his thumbs he thrust forward, forcing his swollen cock's head a painful fraction, of a fraction, of an inch into the boy.

Ayas squealed like a pig when, it's throat slit, it is hung from a beam by its hind legs to bleed slowly to death. His fingers scrabbled helplessly at the sand as the pain tore through him. It felt as if a massive wedge was being hammered into his bottom splitting his whole body open.

Ocytus having effected a lodgement, however shallow, in Ayas' bum, abandoned his hold of his cock and used his two thumbs to pry the boy's hole open. He drove forward again into the screaming child but to little effect. Maddened by this resistance to his lust and by the boy's shrill cries he hammered remorselessly at the Ayas' bottom. At last the child's sphincter gave way before this assault and Ocytus' cock began to sink deeper into the boy. Ocytus shifted his grip to Ayas' hips, yanking the boy brutally back on his swollen cock each time he drove forward into him. Slowly the youth's member sunk ever deeper into the child's rump.

The agony from Ayas' violated bottom reached a peak of intensity that blotted out every other sensation dragging him down into a red screaming void of pain. Then strangely through the pain he became aware of another sensation, the pain was still there but it was accompanied by a deep overwhelming excitement. The volume of Ayas' screams diminished until they subsided into a low lust driven moaning. His body, instead of resisting its invasion, had come to welcome it.

Ocytus felt the boy's guts tighten around his cock drawing it down further into his body. He slowed the tempo of his movements driving his cock deeper into Ayas' bottom with long slow lunges of his hips until it's full length was sheathed in the boy. Now Ayas was responding enthusiastically, pushing his bottom back as Ocytus drove forward. The panting of the youth and the moans of the boy were now punctuated by the rhythmic slap of bare flesh against bare flesh as Ocytus' hips impacted against Ayas' rump.

Now Ayas' whole being was concentrated on the swollen rod pumping his bottom. He had been brought to the state where pain and pleasure merge and are one and indistinguishable as the wildest and most exquisite sensations surged through his body. He threw his head back and straightened himself, clamping his bottom even tighter about the youth's throbbing prick.

Ocytus reached round the boy, his fingers teasing the child's stiff little penis. He could feel the blood pounding in his head as a black mist was drawn across his eyes. He thrust down into the boy one last time, feeling the blood surge in his penis, as he shot his seed deep into the child's guts. Ocytus strained forward as jet after jet of semen spurted from his cock. Then Ayas tumbled forward. Ocytus lay on top of the boy for a few minutes before levering himself upright back onto his knees. There was a plop as the sweat sealed vacuum that had formed between their two bodies was broken followed by a second one as Ocytus pulled his now flaccid cock out of Ayas' bottom.

A feeling of revulsion swept over Ocytus as he looked down at the boy still crouched on the ground, his bum raised in the air. A brown viscous fluid was oozing from Ayas' hole and staining the inside of his thighs. Only a Helot boy, the product of generations of servitude, would descend to such depths. Ocytus became aware of a dampness on the palm of his hand. He glanced down and saw a thin smear of almost clear fluid, the product of Ayas first wet orgasm. The slut had even got pleasure from his degradation. Twisting his mouth in disgust he wiped his hand hastily on the side of Ayas bottom.

"Come on," he said, he could hardly bring himself to talk to so contemptible a creature but the brat had to be got back to work, "Get down to the sea and clean yourself up."

"I'm sore down there in my bottom Ocytus," Ayas grizzled as he dragged himself gingerly to his feet.

"Of course you are," Ocytus replied briskly, "it won't hurt so much next time though."

"You're going to fuck me again?" Ayas asked timidly, gingerly taking a step towards the sea.

"Of course I am again and again and again. And don't waddle. You're a boy not a duck. Get a move on," Ocytus said sending Ayas on his way with a smart slap across his rump.

He followed the boy down to the water's edge. Holding Ayas firmly by the scruff of the neck he marched the child out into the sea.

"Oh Ocytus it stings," Ayas whined as the salt water reached his hole.

"Do it good," Ocytus replied unsympathetically before beginning to sponge the filth from between the whimpering boy's legs with the scrap of cloth that also served as his own clothing.

Later Ayas as he made his way back to the filed tried to understand what had happened. What Ocytus had done to him had hurt very much indeed and he was still very sore round and inside his hole although he was doing his best not to show it by waddling. But how could the hurt and pain, just as it reached it's peak of intensity become something quite different, an ascending spiral of excitement, culminating in the mysterious and wonderful moment when something seemed to burst in his head and for a few seconds he had known only pleasure.

He had shot cum for the first time. He had made Ocytus do it many times in the past with his mouth. Had Ocytus on those occasions experienced the same feelings as he had just done? He hoped so. He wanted to please Ocytus. This time Ocytus had come in his bottom. He was sure of that for he had felt Ocytus cock convulse inside him just as it did in his mouth when the youth's seed came. So he must have done all right this time as well. Although Ocytus had been a bit gruff when cleaning him up. Anyway Ocytus must have enjoyed it because he was going to do it again to him. Ayas was glad about that for, although it hurt to begin with, the ending made it all worthwhile and it was good having Ocytus inside him and knowing that he was able to please him.

Ayas had reached his station at the top corner of the field. He turned to wave to Ocytus but the youth had already started to pile rocks together for the dry stone wall and did not notice him.

Ocytus thought that things had so far worked out well. He had, as he had planned, enjoyed Ayas and the slut had proved himself to be an excellent performer. Now he wanted to make friends with Callias. He had an idea of how that might be done. He doubted if it would make Ayas very happy but that was beside the point. Callias' unremitting hostility had become almost as tiresome as Ayas constant attention seeking. His plan if it worked would have the dual advantage of placating Callias and of putting Ayas in his place.

It was well on into the afternoon before Callias appeared and his attitude then was far from friendly. He returned Ocytus� greeting with a bad tempered grunt and stood glowering about himself in a manner that suggested that he was looking and hoping for trouble.

"Anything interesting going on at Lord Xionedes' house?" asked Ocytus ignoring the other's hostile attitude.

"Na not much an I know I've been gone a long time an I spose you're aiming to get me in trouble by telling to Dad."

"I'm not going to tell on you. What good would it do me if I did? You have been gone a long time though and I wondered if there was something special happening there."

"If you must know," Callias spoke slowly as he had already set to work and his words were punctuated by grunts of effort as he lifted stones and placed them on the dry stone wall, for whatever his manifold faults he was a good worker, "I stopped to see one of the slave girls whipped. Helped herself to a bowl of goat's milk. The steward really laid into her, cut her back up like nobody's business. You should have heard the bitch scream." His voice lost some of its sullenness as he remembered the excitements of the scene.

"I wish I had been there," Ocytus said wistfully.

"Strung her up by the wrists and she was spinning about as the whip hit her. Lash curled right round her body and by the time he was finished with her there was blood everywhere. Front and back. She was young too, only had small breasts and they was all welted and oozing blood."

"Anyway don't know why you should be bothered about missing seeing it. I expect you've spent most of your time fucking little brother," Callias said with a return to his usual hostile manner.

"Only half an hour all told," Ocytus said, indignantly rebutting the accusation of idleness. "Do you want a go."

Callias stared at him for a moment with his mouth open.

"You're joking," he said eventually, "the little sod is your particular friend."

"He's just a slut like any other slut and so far as I'm concerned if you want him you're welcome. I know watching a good flogging always turns me on. I'll call him down for you now." And throwing his head back he shouted up the hill "Ayas."

Chapter 11

He arrived at where the two older boys stood. Even then despite the grins on the youths' faces he had no inkling of what was to come although a slight feeling of unease, that not all was as it should be, flickered at the back of his mind.

"Yes Ocytus… what is it…. what do you want…," he panted.

Then, without giving the youth an opportunity to reply, continued. "Look Callias I've killed a Jackdaw. I hit it with a stone while it was flying." This was not strictly true, the unfortunate bird had settled on the sprouting corn before Ayas dispatched it with a well-aimed throw. Small boys find it hard not to exaggerate tales of their own prowess. "We'll have it in the stew tonight…"

He feared and hated his older brother but that did not mean he had to miss the opportunity of bragging about his skill.

"How do you want to have him?" Ocytus asked Callias cutting across the boy's excited chatter. "Bent over with his bum in the air or on his back with his knees either side of his head?"

"I dunno. How did you fuck the slut?"

"Bent over."

"Well then I'll have him on his back…"

"Ocytus," Ayas howled whom surprise and shock had until then struck dumb, "you can't do this… I'm your friend… You…"

A heavy clout on the side of the head silenced the boy, knocking him to his knees.

"You don't tell me what I can and can't do slut," Ocytus shouted following the blow with a vicious kick in the chest which sent the boy sprawling on his back. "And you're not my friend.

"You're just a tart." A kick thudded into the side of Ayas' head.

" I'd never be a friend with a tart." Another kick landed on the side of the boy's head.

"And stop that stupid crying. What does it matter to a whore like you whose cock is up your arse."

"Now get your knees up on either side of your head so Callias can fuck you and we can all get back to work." A further kick slammed home.

Ayas heard little of this. His head was ringing from the Ocytus initial punch and subsequent kicks. He was in a near hysterical condition of despair and shock, unable to grasp the enormity of the betrayal inflicted upon him. He lay on his back on the sand sobbing uncontrollably. Ocytus tried to rouse the boy with a series of further kicks but failed to do anything but hurt his own bare feet.

"Grab him by the ankles and pass them up to me," Ocytus ordered, loosing patience and kneeling down by Ayas' head.

Callias obeyed and Ocytus taking the boy's ankles from him pulled his legs back so that Ayas' legs were draw back on either side of his head, his bottom tilted upwards. The boy made no attempt at resistance. Indeed he was so sunk in misery and despair that he was hardly aware of what was going on about him.

Callias shed the fragment of cloth wound around his waste that was his only clothing. He stood for a moment looking down at Ayas' exposed and open rump. A few coarse dark hairs sprouting round the base of his cock formed an incipient bush. His erect prick though was well developed showing that young as he was he had been sexually active for sometime.

"Come on," Ocytus urged, "smear it with spit and shove it up his bum. Get on with it or your Dad'll be after us for not working."

Encouraged in this way Callias wasted no time. He knelt down and then mounting the boy drove down hard into him. The intense pain that this brutal invasion of his already torn and sore hole generated brought Ayas sharply back to reality. Mental misery was replaced by acute physical suffering. He screamed but Callias, his lust further excited by his victim's sufferings, rammed his prick deeper and deeper into the wildly sobbing boy's bottom with short hard thrusts of his hips. Callias' rape of the boy was brutal and short. It was all over in a couple of minutes. He pulled away from Ayas and standing up looked down at the child's ravaged bottom. Blood and other liquids were trickling freely from the boy's hole.

"He's in a mess," Callias said now that his lust was sated he was becoming uneasily aware of the possible consequences of his actions. "What are we going to say to Dad?"

Ocytus released his hold of Ayas ankles and standing up joined the other youth.

"I don't suppose he'll look so bad when he's been cleaned up," he said rather doubtfully and then added more cheerfully, "anyway if he's really badly damaged we can drown the whore and chuck his body in the sea by the point. We'll say he went for a swim though we told him not to and never came back. After a day or two in the water nobody'll think of checking to see if his bottom's been ripped."

"Come on let's get him down into the water and get the filth off him and then we can decide," bending down Ocytus took hold of Ayas by an arm and began to haul him to his feet.

"Filth," Callias said, an excited cruel edge to his voice, glancing down at his own cock and rudimentary forest both liberally soiled with blood and other animal juices, "give the bitch here."

Callias reached out and grabbed a handful of Ayas' hair and twisting the child's head back dragged him forward towards his own crutch. Ayas seeing the youth's filth smeared cock just a few inches from his face and catching the stench of faeces that rose from it tried to pull away.

"Don't do that whore," Callias grated yanking the boy's head down into his crutch. "It's your filth and you can clean it up."

"Yes get on with it slut," Ocytus crowed joining in the fun.

Ayas having been taken from him he was now standing behind the boy whose bottom, bent forward as he was, presented an inviting target. Seeking a way to overcome Ayas' reluctance he rammed his thumb hard into his soreness.

"No please no," Ayas howled at this brutal invasion of his already torn and battered hole.

"Then get your face in there and lick him clean. I don't know why you're fussing so. It's your shit isn't it. Now get on with it."

Again Ocytus thumb jabbed into the boy sending waves of excruciating pain coursing through his body. Ayas driven forward by the agony in his bum buried his face in Callias' crutch, the youth's still relatively sparse bush coarse against his lips and nose. Desperate to escape further abuse of his ravaged anus Ayas began to suck at the nauseous and foul smelling filth that caked the youth's cock and pubic hair.

"Do the job thoroughly tart," Ocytus commanded, "or you'll get more of the same."

Ayas needing no further encouragement redoubled his efforts his head bobbing energetically as he worked away. Callias had all the energy and recuperative power of youth and it was not long before Ayas' agile tongue re-awakened his lust. The boy feeling his persecutor's cock harden under his ministrations did not wait for an order. Anticipating what was required of him he took it between his lips and set to work to draw Callias to his second climax in half an hour.

Ocytus noting the alteration in the movements of Ayas' head in conjunction with Callias' shortened breath and increasingly glazed expression recognised what was happening. Standing behind Ayas with the boy bent double, his bare bottom temptingly presented, Ocytus felt his own prick stir. Taking a firm hold of Ayas' hips he drove into the boy. Ayas his mouth filled with tumescent cock gave out a muffled scream and tried to pull away but Callias grabbing him by his hair brought him firmly back to the task in hand.

Sandwiched between the two youths, half choked by Callias' cock in his throat at one end and with Ocytus weapon pounding his raw hole at the other, Ayas' world was one of pain and terror. This time there was no stirring of sexual excitement to alleviate the fear and agony. He was merely a piece of suffering meat in which the two older boys were slaking their sexual thirsts. Mercifully a black mist began to cloud his mind as he began to loose consciousness.

Fortunately the youths' assault was as short as it was brutal. First Ocytus who had the longest rest after his previous exertions shot his load deep in Ayas' gut and the, a few seconds later Callias' semen filled the boy's throat.

They stood back as Ayas knelt on the sand between them choking and sobbing.

"Get hold his ankles and help me get him down to the sea," Ocytus ordered, "we can't waste any more time trying to make him walk."

"Are we going to drown him?" asked Callias across Ayas' head as the two youths carried the boy down the beach.

"Not sure," Ocytus replied. "Now… One… Two… Three."

Laughing they hurled Ayas out to sea. The boy crashed down into the sea, water closed over his head. First he felt the shock of the cold water against his body then a searing pain in his bottom as the salt water entered his torn anus.

Ayas got his feet under himself and began to stand up. He had hardly got his head out of water than Callias was on him pinning him under water with a knee between his shoulder blades.. He struggled desperately but the youth was too strong for him. He felt his strength ebbing away, blood roared in his head.

Callias waited until he felt the strength flowing from the Ayas' body before relaxing his grip and pulling the boy's face clear of the water with a hand twisted in his hair.

"Shall I drown the whore?" Callias asked.

"No just get him up on his feet and so I can clean his bum up and then we can decide. Pity to kill the whore if we don't have to. There's plenty more fun to be got out of him."

Callias held Ayas bent, double an arm locking the boy's neck against his own hip, while Ocytus worked on his bottom. The youth was far from gentle and his efforts combined with the salt water made Ayas feel as though a burning coal had been pushed against the lip of his anus. However as Ocytus remarked he could scream as loud as he wanted, it didn't matter, no one would hear him and if they did they wouldn't care.

Eventually Ocytus was done. He straightened and slapped Ayas dismissively on his rump.

"Let's see," Callias demanded panting slightly from his efforts to hold Ayas steady. "You hang on to him for a minute."

Relinquishing his hold on Ayas' neck to Ocytus he splashed round to the back of the boy

"It looks bad," he remarked parting the cheeks of Ayas' bottom to get a view of the damage. "No wonder the tart howled so much."

He pushed a finger experimentally into Ayas extorting a further shrill scream from the boy.

"It looks worse than it is," Ocytus replied knowledgeably. "The great danger is infection and the sea water'll guard against that. Otherwise he's young and he'll stretch easily and heal quickly. Least that's what my Father used to say with our young slaves."

"We'd better see if he can walk," he continued relinquishing his grip of Ayas neck. "Come on slut get moving."

Ayas began to stumble gingerly back towards the shore.

"Quack… Quack… Quack, quack," Callias mocked waddling beside him in an exaggerated imitation of his painful gait.

Ocytus laughed and joined in mocking the child's suffering.

"Quack… Quack….Quack."

Ayas sobbed loudly, tears of humiliation and pain flowing down his face. The two youths seeing this redoubled their mockery, waddling on either side of him, their hands spread outwards in imitation of a duck's wings, quacking derisively.

"We'd better drown him and have done with it," Callias said eventually through his laughter. "Mum will be bound to see that there's something wrong with him the way he's walking."

"No we'll leave it a bit," Ocytus replied. "There's still more than four hours before we're due to go back to the hut and there's nothing lost by waiting until then to make our minds up. We'll just need to keep an eye on him to see he doesn't sneak off. He won't get far in his present condition."

"He isn't going to win any running races," Callias agreed laughing heartlessly, "waddling ones perhaps not running."

"Get back to your bird scaring slut," Ocytus ordered contemptuously, "and you'd better manage to walk properly by this evening or we'll kill you."

"We'll have a bit of fun with him first though before we do that?" Callias asked grinning evilly.

"Yes there won't be any reason why we shouldn't really enjoy ourselves with the brat if we're going to kill him. You hear that slut?" asked Ocytus. "You'll be begging us to finish you off by the time we've done with you."

"If you're able to talk and not choking on cum," Callias chimed in gleefully.

"Let's see how fast he can run… Come on slut boy run," Ocytus crowed slapping Ayas across his bottom.

"Waddle you mean," Ocytus shouted aiming a kick at the boy.

Ayas forced himself into a shambling run with the two youths driving him up the beech with blows and kicks. They harried the sobbing child up the cliff path when tiring of their sport they stopped leaving him to make his own way to his station at the top of the field. Ayas, deprived of their encouragement, slowed to a walk. A well-aimed flint hurled by Ocytus, catching him painfully between the shoulder blades, quickly brought him back to the run.

"Good throw," Callias exclaimed bending down to pick up a stone in his turn. His shot however fell slightly to the left of Ayas and by the time Ocytus was ready to throw again the boy was safely out of range.

"That should have taught the little sod a lesson," Ocytus said turning back to get back o his work on the dry stone wall. "He was getting a real bore always wanting me to take notice of him." He raised his voice to a shrill squeak in cruel parody of Ayas, 'look at me Ocytus, aren't I a pretty little whore and so clever too?'"

"Now we've got him down we need to keep him down," Callias remarked, "that is if we don't kill him."

"You speak like a Spartan lord," Ocytus said grinning.

"I wish I were one," Callias said, "I think maybe I've got Spartan blood in me. I was born just about the right time after they took Mum for the first time. Twelve she was then and six of them mounted her one after the other before passing her on to Dad so maybe I do. I'd do anything to be one. I wouldn't drown Ayas. I'd nail him up on a cross and have him die real slowly. He'd be a warning to all the other little Helot boys to respect their betters."

Back at the top of the field Ayas crouched once more in the shadow of the field wall staring out with unseeing eyes at the sea glittering in the bright sunlight. The pain in his bottom was intense. But far worse was the feeling of rejection and betrayal. He had hero-worshipped Ocytus. The youth had represented everything that he admired, freeborn, brave, strong, a fighter and Ocytus had appeared to like him. He had cuddled him and petted him and in return Ayas had done all he could to please the youth. Night after night he'd lain with him and as the light from the embers of the fire died away serviced his throbbing cock with his mouth. When eventually Ocytus wanted to enjoy his bottom he willingly endured the agony of penetration. Had he not, the first night that Ocytus had been with them, intervened and saved the youth from Callias' and Lichas' torment?

Now despite all these things Ocytus had turned against him. The youth had hurt him, hurt him terribly and even worse he had allowed Callias to join him in his abuse. Ayas supposed he must have done something wrong, something very bad indeed, to cause Ocytus to turn on him like that. He dredged through his memory trying to think what that thing could have been. Hard as he searched he could find nothing. Perhaps the fact that he couldn't see what he had done wrong showed how bad and unworthy he was. Certainly he must have done something very wicked and bad to have made Ocytus reject him in such a way.

So bad indeed that Ocytus could even consider killing him. Anyway he wouldn't mind too much being killed. It would be a way out of his misery. If only it could be quick. But that was just what it was not going to be. Callias and Ocytus had said they would have fun with him before they killed him and he had experienced enough of their fun to know they would make it hurt as much as they could. Perhaps it would be better to try to survive. After all the great rebellion against the Spartans was coming and then he would have a chance of showing Ocytus what a brave boy he really was.

The afternoon wore on. Down at the bottom of the field Ocytus and Callias toiled steadily away at repairing the dry stone wall. They talked quietly together as they worked imagining ever crueller and more elaborate torments to inflict on their hapless victim. Soon they were once again both fully erect as their combined minds invented atrocities that singly they would never have thought of.

The shadows lengthened. A breeze sprang up from the sea ruffling the previously still water. A coolness entered the air and roused Ayas from his misery. Looking up he saw he two youths walking up the slope of the field towards him. They were carrying slim hazel rods and were both clearly sexually aroused.

Chapter 12

"Look at the miserable little turd," Ocytus sneered. "Doesn't he look scared. I wonder why."

"Maybe he heard us discussing what we are going to do with him," Callias replied grinning.

"You mean like cracking his knee caps with a lump of rock?"

"Yes, so he can't walk and we can keep him out here for a time and play with him."

"Or smash both his feet up. That would do the trick too."

"I suppose it would. Which should we do?"

"I don't know. Perhaps we should let the brat choose."

"That's a good idea Ocytus. After all they're his kneecaps and feet. Come on little brother. Make your choice. Shall we break your knee caps or smash your feet."

"I'd choose the knee caps Ayas," Ocytus said with mock concern. "A couple of blows would do the knee caps but if we have to do your feet it would take more than that. We'd really have to pound them with a rock until they're both a mass of raw flesh with little bits of bone sticking out."

"That sounds more fun than doing his knee caps," Callias interjected. "I think we should crush his feet."

"No fairs fair, we said he could have a choice and a choice he will have. Come on Ayas, time is getting on, make your mind up. Kneecaps or feet which is it to be?"

"Oh dear Callias the poor little baby is beginning to cry. Some thing must have upset the poor little boy. What is it Ayas don't you want your knees broken? It will hurt a lot but it won't be all that long before you die left out in the open and then it'll be all over. How long do you think he'll last Callias? A couple of days?"

"I dunno Ocytus. The nights are getting warmer so maybe three. But I heard a wolf howling last night so they're still about and anyway we'll come back from time to time to play with him a bit more. Maybe if we do his knee caps now we could do his feet tomorrow… unless a wolf finds him overnight that is."

"Why not. That's a good idea. But we haven't heard Ayas. Come on my sweet we are waiting for your decision."

"Please don't. Please," Ayas sobbed, "Ocytus, please, you were kind to me once why are you doing this to me?"

Ayas shuffled towards Ocytus on his knees clasping his hand in supplication. He knew he was helpless in the power of the two youths both of whom seemed to revel in inflicting pain and humiliation upon him. From Callias he expected no mercy. His brother for as long as he could remember had bullied him cruelly. Surely Ocytus though, who had petted him and told him so often what a pretty boy he was and whom he had himself once saved from his older brothers' persecution, would protect him now.

Ocytus jutting prick had lifted the scrap of cloth about the youth's waste. Its exposed tip was only a few inches from the kneeling boy's face. Desperate to placate his tormentors and to curry favour with at least one of them, Ayas pressed his face into Ocytus' crutch his lips caressing the youth's swollen penis.

A rich sibilant hiss from behind Ayas was followed by a stinging pain across his bottom as Callias brought the switch ripping down across his defenceless rump. At the same moment Ocytus drove his knee into his chest knocking him backwards.

"Get off you filthy whore," he shouted kicking Ayas in the ribs as the boy sprawled in the dust. He stepped back and lifting his hazel rod over his shoulder he cut down viciously at the boy's chest, the blow scoring a scarlet furrow across the tightly stretched skin.

"If I want your ugly face in my crutch I'll tell you. Until then keep off. Now cunt face stop rolling about in the dirt. Get up on your feet. Maybe if you can walk properly we won't kill you just yet."

"Yes come on slut," Callias snarled slashing once again at the crouching boy and catching Ayas across the forearm which he had flung up in a pathetic attempt to ward off the blow.

"You keep your arms down when you're being beaten," Ocytus screamed kicking Ayas on the side of the head, sending him sprawling once again.

For the moment the two youths concentrated on thrashing Ayas, slashing again and again at the weeping boy's naked body with the pliant hazel switches as Ayas writhed at their feet. The hiss of the rods as they fell, the snap of wood against bare flesh, the cries of the boy and the panting and grunts of effort of the two youths as they enthusiastically plied their switches drowned all other sounds. The strident chords of cruelty and violence taking precedence over all gentler sounds just as the unthinking blare of the military march always silences the quieter sweeter tones of the pastoral.

At last the two youths tired of their sport. Ocytus reaching down caught hold of Ayas by the hair and pulled the weeping boy to his feet.

"He is a mess," Callias exclaimed a note of self-congratulation in his voice and indeed Ayas was a mess. His whole body was marked with the livid welts that the thin rods had etched across his slim frame. Tears, snot and saliva had mixed with dust from the dry ground smeared his face.

"Get moving," Ocytus ordered roughly pulling Ayas round so that he faced the sea and giving him a sharp push between the shoulder blades. "You can safe us the trouble of carrying your filthy carcass by walking and perhaps, if you walk well enough, we may let you live a little longer. We'll make up our mind when we get you to the headland. Now move."

Driven on by the two youths slashing at his bare legs with their switches Ayas stumbled forward. His hole was still very sore and he felt as though he was burning inside. If he had been asked he would probably have said he did not care if he lived or died but the same instinct for survival that keeps the hunted hare running till her heart fails and the hounds rend her, forced him onwards. Each painful step sent waves of pain coursing through his body and yet he tried to keep his legs together and to walk as naturally as he could.

"I don't see how we can keep him alive," Callias remarked as he took yet another cut at the back of the boy's thighs. "Just look at him. How are we going to explain the state he is in?"

"It would be easier to kill him," Ocytus conceded dispassionately, "but if he's not too damaged we might as well let him live. There's nothing else for us to fuck, for the time being anyway."

"But what will we say to Mum and Dad?"

"That a gang of Spartan boys set on him and raped him."

"But he'll tell on us."

"What our little friend tell on us," Ocytus took time out to slash his little friend hard across the rump with his rod and then continued. "He won't do that. Good boys like Ayas don't tell, specially when they know what will happen to them if they do."

"Your Dad will beat us if he finds out what we have been up to with his little darling but he won't kill you and he won't kill me either," Ocytus continued. "He needs us both to work the farm and get the harvest in. We'll still be around and some time, some place, we'll get Ayas on his own and show him what happens to little boys who tell tales."

"Ayas sweet you're won't tell on us if we're kind enough to let you live will you?"

"No Ocytus… No I won't I promise I won't."

"And you'll be a good dutiful boy and try hard to please me and Callias who have been so kind and nice to you?"

"Oh yes Ocytus," Ayas sobbed, "yes I will."

"And tell your Mummy and Daddy how we came to your help as soon as the Spartan boys had finished with and comforted you and carried you back so your Mummy can dress your wounds."

"Yes .. just please don't hurt me any more… I'll tell them. I will"

"Of course you will Ayas especially since I'll be carrying you and I'll hold you near the fire when I tell them and if you don't back me up I'll drop you in it and hold you down with my foot before ever they can stop me. You here me slut?"

"Yes I promise I'll do as you say."

"So we're not going to break his knee caps or crush his feet?" Callias said his disappointment clear in his voice.

Ocytus stopped and spent a moment or two looking Ayas over as the child stood trembling under his gaze waiting to know if he was going to be allowed to live.

"Not this time I think," he said eventually. "There's still a bit of use to be got out of the brat.

"But," he continued as Callias gave a slight sigh of disappointment, "we'll smash one of his big toes. It'll give him a taste of what he's escaped for the time being and give him an idea of what he can expect if he lets us down in the future and be a useful test of discipline."

"Come over here Ayas," he led the boy across to where a flat rock stood at the edge of the field. "Get an arm lock on him Callias and you Ayas put your right foot up on the rock. Quickly," he snapped, lashing at the child across the front of the thighs with his switch.

"That's my anvil," he said kneeling down beside the rock, "and now here," he continued picking up a largish stone in his right hand is my hammer."

He lifted the stone to chest height and taking aim brought it slamming down towards the place where Ayas' bare foot rested on the rock. The boy seeing the stone fall and anticipating the agony of a crushed toe screamed and jerked his foot away. The stone missed Ayas' foot by a fraction of an inch striking the rock with a sharp crack.

"You stupid whore," Ocytus screamed in rage. Snatching up his rod he leapt to his feet and rained cuts across the front of the Ayas chest and legs as the boy screamed and writhed in Callias' grip.

"Now," Ocytus said panting after a five minutes or so of violent exercise and raising his voice to be heard over the child's cries, "we will try again and this time I will help you keep still. Put your foot back on the rock"

Dropping to his knees he grasped Ayas' raised foot behind the ankle with his left hand. He picked up another hefty stone with his right and quickly struck downwards. There was a dull thud as stone banged down on bone padded with yielding flesh followed by the loudest scream of pain that Ayas had as yet uttered that day. Callias released the boy from his grip and Ayas collapsed to the ground writhing in the dirt, holding his foot with it's shattered toe, howling out his agony. Ocytus stood back watching while Ayas' body absorbed the first and most intense onset of pain. A slight smile played on his face as he observed the child's sufferings. It would have been clear to any observer that the spectacle excited him and indeed the contortions of Ayas' small pain racked body would, for someone with a taste for such things, have been very erotic.

At last Ayas quietened. Now he lay curled into a ball of boy misery sobbing quietly, holding his maimed foot. Ocytus bent and scooped him up from the ground. He stood cradling the child's naked body in his arms.

"Now we take him back to his Mum and Dad," he announced.

"Why don't you make the little sod walk?" asked Callias. "He'll do it if we hit him hard enough. You can just carry him the last few yards."

"What make my special little friend walk after the cruel Spartan boys have raped and tormented him? How can you be so heartless? No I'll carry the poor abused child all the way back home. His Mum and Dad will see how devoted I am to the little fellow and he will tell them how cruel the nasty Spartans were to him and how grateful he is to us for caring for him after they had finished with him. Won't you Ayas my pet?"

Ocytus reached round Ayas with the arm cradling the boy's knees. His hand explored the child's crutch, fingers closing round the tiny balls and squeezing cruelly.

"Won't you Ayas?" he repeated pinching harder.

"Yes Ocytus….Yes I will… I promise…." Ayas gasped.

It was a steep uphill climb from the field by the sea to the mean hovel that sheltered Misinus and his family. By the time he reached it Ocytus' body was glistening with sweat with darker streaks where blood from Ayas' open wounds had had trickled over his arms and down his chest and belly. Ducking under the single massive slab of rock that formed the lintel of the hut's doorway he came to a stop beside the fire where Danas knelt bent over a steaming earthenware pot.

Looking up Danas saw the youth looming over her the small frail figure of Ayas cradled in his arms.

"What's happened?" she asked starting to her feet in alarm

"Spartans," gasped Ocytus still short of breath from the effort of carrying Ayas up the hill, "Spartan boys. They raped him and beat him. Callias and I could do nothing but watch. As soon as they had done we brought him back to you."

To Danas, listening to the youth's panted explanation, seeing his sweat slicked body; Ocytus' distress at Ayas' ordeal and concern for her young son was genuine and obvious. Ayas' affection and gratitude to his apparent saviour appeared just as clear to her. For the boy, feeling the heat of the fire against his back and remembering Ocytus' threats, threw his arms around the youth's neck and held him tight in a desperate attempt to save himself from the flames.

"Take him outside and stay with him while I get my things together. I can see what a comfort you are to him," Danas ordered and she set off to the back of the hut where she stored the various herbs and ointments that were the only medicines available to her.

She emerged from the hut a few moments later carrying a bowl of steaming water that gave off a strangely acerbic scent derived from the seaweed and herbs she had mixed with it. Ocytus was sitting on the ground in the evening sun just outside the doorway; Ayas' bruised and bloodied body lying across his knees. Ocytus head was bent so that his lips were just inches away from Ayas' ear. To Danas it looked as though the youth was whispering words of comfort and encouragement to the quietly sobbing boy. She was not to know that Ocytus had been describing in bloody detail the horrors that he and Callias would inflict on Ayas' carcass should he betray them to his parents.

"Thank you Ocytus," she said kneeling on the ground beside him. "You have been a great help. Now if you'd hold Ayas for me while I clean him up. And Ayas you have to try to be brave because this is going to hurt a bit."

Danas dipped a rag into the bowl of steaming water and, using the finger and thumb of her left hand to force open the lips of a gash across Ayas' chest, began her work.

"Hold his wrists Ocytus," she said as Ayas squealed and tried to beat her hands away from his body. "That's right hold him firm now."

"Now Ayas be brave," she said raising her voice to be heard over the child's cries and using a phrase that would be repeated over the ages, "you know if it isn't hurting it isn't working."

To Ayas as his mother worked away, swabbing his wounds clean with the pungent smelling fluid it seemed that each cut in turn was filled with molten metal. If the reverse of the old adage was true – it hurts therefore it works – then Ayas' body would rapidly heal.

The boy's agonised squirming as he struggled in his lap soon dislodged Ocytus' loincloth. The feel of the boy's taught little rump wriggling against his crutch increased the youth's excitement and it was all Ocytus could do to control his own rising passions and Ayas' ever more desperate struggles.

"Well that's your front finished," Danas said eventually. "Up you get Ayas and lie face down across Ocytus knees. I'll have to do your back now."

"Oh Mum do you have to," Ayas whined through his tears, looking up at his mother from where he lay. "My back's not so bad. I'm sure it'll be all right."

"Nonsense it's the first time you've had someone inside you and even though it was only boys you're sure to be torn. That'll need cleaning and dressing."

The thought of the burning lotion being applied to his already raw hole extorted an anticipatory wail from Ayas.

"Don't be such a cry baby," Danas said impatiently catching hold of him by his wrist and jerking him to his feet.

Looking down she caught sight of Ocytus swollen cock which with the weight of Ayas' bottom suddenly removed sprang upright, quivering at its sudden release. Danas laughed. She was not at all displeased at what she interpreted as further evidence of the youth's infatuation with the charms of her young son. Taken with the Ocytus' apparent distress at Ayas' injuries she felt there was a good chance that Misinus' plan to sell the boy for a good price to Ocytus parents when they restored the youth to them would be successful.

"Well Ocytus that tells it's own tale," she said with a grin nodding at his erect member, "but you'll have to wait a day or two before Ayas will be able to show his gratitude to you for all the care you've taken of him."

"And Ayas get down on your face. The sooner I dress your bottom the sooner you will be able to show Ocytus what a good little lover you are."

Ocytus, reaching up and catching hold of the boy by his wrists, stopped any further protests by pulling Ayas down across his knees. Clamping one hand on the back of Ayas' neck and, with the other hand, taking a tight hold of a firm young thigh he held the child down while Danas worked on his back. She cleaned the weals on his shoulders and legs before turning her attention to his bottom. Ayas whimpered and squirmed as the caustic fluid entered and cleansed the gashes in his tender young flesh but even as he writhed and sobbed he knew what he was suffering was only the prelude of more intense pain to come. Then the moment he dreaded most was at hand. Danas' fingers forced open his hole and plumbed his soreness. They were withdrawn. He was screaming even before the moist cloth was inserted into him and the primitive but potent antiseptic brewed from seaweed and salt water entered his anus.

Misinus attracted by the howls of his young son strolled up.

"All right," he said to Ocytus, holding out his arms, "I'll take him. You get off now. There's some food for you inside."

Ocytus surrendered Ayas to his father willingly enough and hurried off into the hut. He knew that if he didn't get to his food quickly it would be gone. They were all perpetually hungry and famished children tend to ignore such concepts as 'fair shares.'

Misinus saw, he would have had to be blind to miss it, the youth's erect penis and smiled to himself. It seemed to him that it was yet further confirmation that his plan to make money from Ayas was well founded.

"What happened," he asked Danas, hefting Ayas in his arms so that he was holding the boy pressed against his chest, one arm supporting the child's bottom the other around his shoulders. Ayas meanwhile, winding his arms around his father's neck, gripping him about the waste with his legs, continued to sob wildly.

"Spartan boys," Danas answered briefly, "they raped him and beat him. Ocytus carried him back after they had finished with him."

"Something was bound to happen like that sooner or later to a Helot boy as pretty as he is," Misinus said philosophically. "At least it looks as though Ocytus has taken a strong fancy to him. I think we are certain to get a very good price from him or his parents and the we can stock the farm, perhaps even buy an oxen for ploughing."

Danas looked up at him in surprise. The plan to sell Ayas after the rebellion against the Spartans, indeed the rebellion itself was meant to be secret and here was her husband talking openly of it in front of the boy.

"Don't worry," said Misinus catching her glance, "Ayas is in no state to understand what is going on around him for the moment."

"Funny," he continued musingly as he kneaded the back of the boy's neck, "to think that a child can bring in so much money. Still there it is. I suppose if anything goes wrong with Ocytus we can still raise a fair sum for Ayas if we take him to the slave mart at Corinth. That's the place they say for quality boys."

Misinus was wrong though in thinking that Ayas was for the moment lost to the world. The boy understood every word that his father said. He understood that the revolt against the Spartans was not going to bring him freedom, that his dreams of helping his father to shake off the yoke under which his people had laboured for centuries were just that, dreams, never to be fulfilled. His only part in his father's plans for the future was to be a source of money for stocking the farm.

Ayas choking on his tears, stared sightlessly into space. In the course of one day he had been rejected by Ocytus and had all his dreams for the future destroyed by his own father.

"There," Misinus said, "he's calming down. He'll be asleep soon. Take him from me will you and put him down in our place by the fire. He'd best have a few quiet nights to give him a chance to heal up."

Chapter 13

But if Ayas body healed quickly the scars left on his mind by his abuse and double betrayal were much more long lasting. He became little more than an animal, living for the present, his mind driven by the physical needs of the moment. Work and sex filled his waking hours. Ocytus made it clear, so far as the latter was concerned that he had first claim on the boy's services, but he was generous in allowing Callias to make use of the lad as well. With two vigorous teenagers to satisfy Ayas' bum and mouth were frequently in demand. He fell asleep with his mouth and hole filled with cum and woke each morning to find the pubic hairs of one youth tickling his nose and the rock hard cock of the other pressing into the cleft of his bottom. While, during the day, one or other of the youths, if they could escape from Misinus' supervision, would demand the use of his mouth or bottom.

Danas and Misinus were well aware of what was going on, they could hardly not be with the rustlings of straw, pants and whimpers of pain-tinged excitement that came from the corner of the hovel where the three boys lay, but saw no reason to interfere to protect their son. There was no reason for them to do so. Ayas was a pretty boy and it was natural that he should have his lovers.

Once the pain of his initial penetration had eased Ayas frankly enjoyed the sex. He would have been happier if Ocytus had truly loved him and had kept him for himself. However the absence of love did not detract from the excitement and pleasure of the orgasms that he was experiencing with increasing frequency and force. Nor did he feel ashamed that this was so. The excitement of servicing the two youths and his own sex induced ecstasies provided him with an escape from the drudgery of his current life and the hopelessness of his future. His hunger for sex drowned out all other thoughts and emotions. Sex, the thought of it, the anticipation of it, the enjoyment of it filled his waking hours. When he was away from them he ached for the touch of the youths' hands. When Callias and Ocytus were away his whole body seemed to tremble in anticipation of the moment when they would return. When they were near his eyes followed them around, his lips and bum quivering in their eagerness for cock. It was not surprising that Misinus after ordering Ayas for the umpteenth time to stop making eyes at Ocytus and to get on with his work remarked in exasperation to his wife "that boy is permanently on heat".

Over the next few months Ayas improved and honed his skills as a whore. At first he was the pupil, learning what was required of him from the demands of the two youths. But as his eagerness for sex increased he began to use his imagination on his own account. Callias was hardly more than a boy and Ocytus was not yet full-grown but Ayas learnt much in serving and exciting their lusts. He learnt to take the full length of Ocytus penis into his mouth and down into the back of his throat, to control his breathing while combining the movements of his lips, his tongue and even the convulsions of his gullet at it's intrusion to bring the youth to orgasm. He ceased to lie, his rump raised in the air, supine while the youths took it in turn to pump his bottom. He learnt to compensate for the slight loosening of his anus by using the muscles in his bum to grip and ride their swollen rods, supplementing and exaggerating the natural reactions of a boy's bottom to a vigorous fucking. His agile tongue and eager lips explored the youths' bodies from their ears to their toes leaving no cranny or protuberance in between unvisited.

(Authors Note: The inhabitants of the ancient world were in general so ignorant and steeped in wickedness that they did not know that certain types of sex were evil and certain were not. Sex in itself, for them, had no moral implications. It was just one of the physical pleasures available to be taken as opportunity offered and as individual taste directed. The only exception to this was a prejudice against taking the passive part among the upper classes. This though was on the grounds that to do so was, in someway, dishonourable not immoral. Their failure to recognise the wickedness of their behaviour in this respect is made doubly strange by the fact that they valued other virtues such as courage, loyalty, honesty and so on. However moral values are absolute and the ones enshrined in our laws and religion are the only true ones so what is morally wrong in the twenty-first century after Christ must have been so in the second century before. The same is true today of those parts of the world that seem to be reluctant to accept the superior sexual moral values of the West. It is encouraging though to see that pressure is being applied to bring these ignorant and benighted places into line. They will no doubt regard our moral rules in the same light as they do the other benefits of Western Civilisation such as the attack helicopter, the cluster bomb, and a form of 'democracy' that allows people to elect whoever they want provided, of course, that the people elected are acceptable to their 'benefactors' in the West.)

And so the months passed. The moon waxed and waned and began to grow again. The fresh green shoots of the corn grew and ripened. The days though still stiflingly hot began to shorten and the night air took on a certain chill. The fields were harvested by hand, slow backbreaking work in the hot sun for the whole family. Misinus and the two youths reaped the standing corn with sickles. Danas with her baby strapped to her back, together with Lichas and Ayas helping her, gathered the severed corn and carried it to the yard and the stone threshing floor. This was when the family could have done with the help of Caria but Xionedes had taken her from them so that her young body could delight those of his friends who preferred girls.

The corn was all gathered in. The rhythmic thud of the flails sounded from the thrashing floor. Misinus his naked chest glistening with sweat, his tunic skirt hitched up short about his waist, his thick heavily muscled thighs bare, set the pace. Callias and Ocytus followed him the flails rising in turn over their shoulders before being brought crashing down onto the stone floor. The hot air was thick with dust that caked their sweat slicked bodies and the noise thundered in their ears and in the ears of Lichas and Ayas who laboured, carrying sheaves of corn to the thrashing floor or collecting and winnowing the broken husks.

It was about midday on the second day after the corn had been got in. Ayas was staggering across the yard towards the thrashing floor a heavy sheaf of corn balanced on his head. He presented a strange but appealing picture. A naked boy, his body burnt nut brown by the sun, with the great bundle of ripened corn, it's ends drooping under their own weight, on his head. He looked like some sort of exotic mushroom with a golden cap and a slim beautifully fashioned stem. In the distance he heard, above the thud of the flails, the clatter of approaching horses hooves. Horses hooves to him could only mean Xionedes or his farm bailiff and either threatened trouble. Dropping the sheaf he ran to warn his father.

It was the bailiff not Xionedes himself. He came trotting into the yard on his small stubby pony carrying the heavy whip, which was both his badge of office and principle tool of his trade, looped in his right hand. Misinus went to meet him and knelt on the ground, pressing his head to the earth. The bailiff was a fat pig like man, cruel, spiteful and thus well suited to his task of sweating labour and blood from the miserable drudges in his charge. He was only a Helot but he had the ear of his master and therefore had to be treated with respect.

"My Lord Xionedes requires two strong brutes from you for work in the quarries. Get your family out here so I can make my choice," the man snapped without even bothering to dismount from his horse.

"But Lord it is only the second day of thrashing the corn. There is a good weeks work to do before…" Misinus' protest was brought to an abrupt halt by the bailiff bring his whip cracking down across his naked shoulders.

"The rest of your idle useless brood must just work a little harder then. It wouldn't hurt pretty boy there," he sneered nodding at Ayas who stood lurking in the background, "to do some real work instead of standing round making sheep's eyes at strangers. I've got a good mind to take him for the quarries, the slaves there would appreciate a bit of fresh boy's flesh. Perhaps I'll take you as well. You to work, for you're a strong buck if an ugly one, and the boy to fuck." The man laughed at his wit. "Now get your brood out here so I can take my pick."

Misinus shouted an order and soon all the Helots on the farm were huddled kneeling in the dust as the fat man sat on his horse looking down at them enjoying, his power over the cringing wretches. The whole of Misinus' household were there from the two sturdy youths Ocytus and Callias on the verge of manhood, through the thirteen year old Lichas, the pretty Ayas, down to the unnamed babe in Danas' arms. The bailiff knew well enough the two he was going to choose but he let the minutes drag out, savouring the Helots' fear, for life in the quarries was always brutal and often short.

"You," the bailiff snarled, "you look as though there be some work in you."

The whip cracked and Callias yelped with pain as the tip of the lash nipped his bare thigh.

"Hurt you did it. Well you'll get used to the whip fast enough where you're going and I'll have that big lout next to you as well. He looks the best of a pretty miserable bunch.

"Yes you," he continued as Ocytus looked up questioningly. "Come on get on your feet the two of you and get moving."

"And Misinus you'd better get your lot back to work quickly. My Lord still expects his eighty measures of corn and I wouldn't disappoint him if I were you. You've got two less hands to produce it so you'll have to work the others longer and harder."

Danas whom shock had until then kept silent broke out in hysterical wailing. Callias was a cruel rather ugly youth but he was her first born and therefore her favourite.

"Shut up you stupid whore," the bailiff shouted cutting at the poor women with his whip. "You've lost one whelp – get on and breed another with Misinus. I'd look after you myself but you're so dirty and ugly. Funny though because the little bitch Caria that Lord Xionedes took from you is a juicy little tart and a hot fuck by all accounts though us Helots will have to wait till the Spartan Lords have finished with her before we can lay her."

With these words he lashed at the weeping Danas again and then digging his heels into the flanks of his horse trotted out of the yard leaving Callias and Ocytus to follow at a shambling run.

Misinus stumbled to his feet. He stood for a moment staring after the retreating figure of the bailiff silently clenching and unclenching his hands.

Then he turned back to face his family.

"Lichas and Ayas, you'll have to join me on the threshing floor. Come on we have work to do." Grim faced he strode off.

Ayas knew there were six hours before the brief Southern dusk would bring an end to work for the day. Before long his arms and shoulders ached from exhaustion, blood welled from the broken blisters on his hands and his whole body was caked with sweat and dust. Still he stuck manfully to his task driving his slim boy's body to match the endurance and strength of his father. He was determined to proof, if he could, that he was as good a worker and as much use on the farm as Callias or even Ocytus.

He was an intelligent boy and he realised that the disappearance of Ocytus and Callias from the farm, probably forever, necessarily had an effect on his own future. Now there was a desperate shortage of labour on the farm. At the least it was now extremely unlikely that he was ever going to belong to Ocytus. Perhaps if he were to show himself a good strong worker his father would give up all together his plan to make money out of him by selling him as a slave and let him stay on the farm. Then all his dreams of helping his father in the struggle to free themselves and all the other Helots from Spartan rule might come true after all.

Determination and will power can achieve a great deal but it cannot give a young boy the muscles and endurance of a grown man. Ayas tried hard but he could feel the strength draining from his body. He tried to keep pace with Misinus maintaining the steady tempo of the flails as they rose and fell but he failed. Once he missed a stroke drawing a sharp glance and a muffled curse from his father. Then disaster struck. He got completely out of rhythm. Somehow his flail clashed with his father's and Lichas' slammed down on them both.

"Danas," his father shouted, "give the babe to Ayas and take his place with the flail."

Ayas knew that he had caused the accident and surrendered his flail to his mother without protest but he was deeply ashamed. To have to give up was bad enough but to give way to a woman and to be made to undertake the woman's work of looking after a baby was to make his failure many times worse. His humiliation was lessened somewhat when an hour or so later Lichas' strength failed and he was ordered back onto the threshing floor in his place. However he noticed that Lichas was soon called back to take his place and that throughout the rest of the day, although they took turns, Lichas' spells were much longer than his own.

Lichas noticed this as well and did not like it. When darkness forced Misinus to call a halt to their work he made his discontent known.

"I want twice as much to eat as Ayas," he demanded, "because I've done twice as much work as him."

Misinus sighed. He had it in his power to deal with such demands as this very briefly and he often did so. However he recognised that the removal of Ocytus and Callias from his household had created a new situation. Lichas in particular would have to play a more important role in working the farm. He was confident in his ability to get the boy to work hard even if he was unwilling to do so but he recognised that it would be better if he could be persuaded rather than forced. As for Ayas, Misinus knew he had done his best but that only served to make clear what was already obvious, that at almost twelve years old he was far too weak for anything more than boy's work. It was only a matter of a fortnight or so before the moon would be full and the time set for the rising against the Spartans would be upon them. Misinus decided the time had come to explain his plans to the two boys.

"Lichas, Ayas come outside for a moment," and he led the way out of the hut.

It was all but dark now. Misinus stood for a moment in silence listening intently for any unusual noise that might betray the presence of strangers. There was nothing but the wind sighing softly in the topmost branches of the clump of pine trees beside the cabin, the rustle of movement in the undergrowth as some small mammal scuttled by, and the constant clatter of the crickets. Reassured he reached out and drew Ayas to him. He knew what he was going to say would bear hardest on him.

"In a fortnight," he said solemnly, his right hand kneading the back of Ayas' neck as he spoke, "there will be a rising that will bring us Helots freedom at last from Spartan rule. It will be the end of Xionedes and that pig of a bailiff of his. We won't any longer have to hand over the greater part of our harvest to him and starve while he feasts and grows fat on the food our labour has produced. The farm will be ours then and the food that grows on it as well."

He paused. His hand slipped down Ayas back and then round the boy's waist so that he hugged the child tightly to him. Ayas unaccustomed to such open affection from his usually grim and unyielding father wriggled happily up against Misinus, feeling the man's coarse clothing, with his strong limbs beneath, rough against his own bare skin.

"But," Misinus continued dropping his voice to give his words added importance, "the farm will still need to be worked and that will be difficult without Ocytus and Callias. That is why Lichas you have had to work extra hard today and will have to do so in the future. But you are younger and weaker than either Ocytus and Callias and can't be expected to do as much as both of them."

"I'll help too Dad," Ayas said eagerly if a little forlornly. He already sensed that his hopes were about to be dashed.

Misinus said nothing for a moment. Silently he eased himself backwards sitting down on the low stone wall that bordered the hovel's yard drawing Ayas down with him so that the boy was nestling on his lap. Misinus hand stole further round the boy till the tips of his fingers toyed with the child's penis. Ayas sighed quietly and turned his head so that his face was buried in the front of his father's tunic.

"I know you would Ayas," Misinus spoke with unusual softness, the regret in his voice genuine and undisguised, "but you are just not strong enough for the work and won't become so for many years and meanwhile the farm must be worked or we will be ruined. We'll loose the farm just when we've got it from the Spartans and we'll finish up back as slaves or starving. Your Mother, your brother Lichas and even the little baby, and yourself and me, we'll all starve or be sold into slavery. You understand that don't you Ayas?"

Ayas knew that what his father was saying was true though he wished desperately it was not. He had dreamt of freedom, perhaps really without thinking very much of what freedom would entail but nevertheless looking forward to, in time, helping his father on a farm they owned themselves and choosing his own partners for himself. Now that dream was at an end. Lichas, and the, as yet unnamed, babe would enjoy these privileges but he would not. It was not fair. Why should he be the one to suffer in this way?

"Please let me stay," he pleaded, although in his heart of hearts he knew it was pointless. "I'm getting bigger and stronger every day. I didn't do much today but I'll be able to do more soon…"

"It'll be a long time before you can do as much as Lichas and even longer before you can do a man's work," Misinus said gently, "and we need a man on the farm now – not long in the future."

"Why me?" Ayas demanded his voice rising into a wail of protest. "Why not Lichas. Why does it have to be me?"

"Because you will fetch the best price." Misinus explained deliberately keeping his voice calm. "You are a pretty boy, straight limbed and curly haired with a tight little bottom that draws men's eyes. And you are now just short of twelve years old. That's the best age to buy a brat for pleasure when the sap is just beginning to rise. Lichas is like me, a squat sturdy lout, good for the fields but nothing much else and even if he was as pretty as Ganymede at almost fourteen he has only a few years of boyhood for any purchaser to enjoy. "

"We have to get the best price we can and we can't wait. It will be four good years before Callias will reach full strength. We must buy a slave, a strong brute, like myself to do the heavy work with me, till then."

"You don't need to buy a slave. I could do the work," Ayas protested weakly but he knew he was fighting a lost cause and he began to sob quietly, burying his face in his father's tunic.

"Don't be silly Ayas," his father said gently his fingers toying with the boy's cock now, despite the child's misery, stiff and twig-like to his touch. "You're beautiful. You're sure to be bought by some rich lord who will spoil you. There are many worse things than serving a loving master; picking stones in the cold rain for one. And when the hair begins to grow on your chin and your too old for your Master's bed then maybe he'll give you your freedom with a pretty little slave girl to be your wife."

"Yes Ayas," Lichas chimed in, "it's not as if you don't enjoy it. We could all hear you whimpering and moaning and begging for more when Ocytus' had his cock up your bum and you'll be no good on the farm. You're too pretty and soft for anything but being some lord's fuck boy."

Lichas had been upset when Callias, previously his friend, had abandoned him for Ocytus. He had been further upset by the two youths' refusal to let him have a turn enjoying Ayas. He had resented being excluded from their friendship and their pleasures and he was making the most of this opportunity to make that resentment known.

"And Lichas," Misinus intervened swiftly, "you must not begrudge Ayas food and being spared the hardest work on the farm. We have only fourteen days to the full moon and the great rising. We will need to get him to the slave markets at Corinth as shortly after that as possible and the better condition he is in the better price we will get for him. With luck we might be able to get stock for the farm and an iron shod plough and even perhaps an ox from his sale."

Ayas exhausted by the excitements and labours of the day, distracted by his father's gentle teasing of his stiff little prick, began to lose touch with reality. He heard his father speak but his words were to him a meaningless jumble of sounds as he slipped away into a dark seething whirlpool of rising lust. He could feel through the rough material his father's tunic the swollen man's cock pushing up against his rump. Raising his bottom from his father's lap he reached behind him pulling up the hem of the man's tunic. He wriggled his bum against the thick rod, far bigger than anything he had in him up to then, feeling his father's pubic hair rough against his own bare skin.

"That's enough of that Ayas," Misinus said with a laugh pushing the rampant boy away from him and standing up. "You'll have to wait till your sold for a man's cock. I can't risk ripping you and spoiling the price we get for you."

"Now get along with you and have your supper," laughing again Misinus patted Ayas on his bare bottom. Obediently the boy trotted off his erect little prick quivering eagerly in front of him betraying his aroused condition.

There were only fourteen days to go before the uprising but to Ayas those fourteen days were very long ones. Deprived of Ocytus rod to service his young body was soon seething with lust. Ayas turned to thirteen year old Lichas for relief but although the latter laboured hard and with enthusiasm at his task his boy's prick was no substitute for the youth's more formidable meat. Lichas efforts were rendered even more inadequate by Ayas' memory of his father's swollen cock, massive and throbbing, pressing along the cleft of his bum. He could not banish from his mind the feel of this tumescent lump of man's flesh. He looked forward to the day when he would have to take just such an object into his own body with a mixture of fear and excitement.

Lichas failing him he tried to dowse the fire that burnt within him in the way common to all boys through out history. Masturbation though, as always, only offered a temporary and inadequate escape. Hardly had release been obtained that the smouldering embers would re-ignite and his cock would harden again. Three, four, five times, one after the other in rapid succession he brought himself to a climax till his cock was sore from constant fingering.

Ayas in the brief moments when he was capable of rational thought felt ashamed of his sex driven fantasies. He began to wonder whether they showed that Lichas was right and he was no good for anything but being some man's tart.

Apart from the reddened flesh of his prick, Ayas' eyes became sore and red rimmed and the energy drained from his body. Misinus fearful of the boy loosing value instructed him to stop masturbating. Ayas was a dutiful child but the order was no more effective than such an order ever is even with the most obedient of sons. That is to say that Ayas did his best to stop but every so often his resolution would slip. Misinus a realist expected no more. He was content to see the bloom return to the boy. To his eyes, Ayas' trembling lips and almost constant erection served only to hint at what an eager little whore lay imprisoned beneath the apparently innocent exterior and what delights he would bring to the man who purchased the right to release the little wanton. In these circumstances Misinus was content to turn a blind eye to his son's occasional unexplained absences.

Ayas had slipped out of the hut late one evening some two days before the moon was at its full. He was sitting in the dark, his legs stretched out in front of him, his back resting against the trunk of a pine tree. In his mind he was far away, resting in the arms of his master, a big gentle man, with whom he had just enjoyed the most painful and penetrating pleasures. Now his Master was kissing away the tears while telling him what a marvellous and skilled lover he was. Then he was brought back to the present by a shadowy figure passing so close to him that it almost stumbled over his legs.

Suddenly alert he was aware that there was movement all around him. He saw further figures moving stealthily between the trees up towards the hovel. All were armed. A shaft of moonlight glinted on a sword blade. Another figure was clearly carrying a spear. Then out of the trees into a pool of moonlight stepped a man carrying the long Spartan staff, his form muffled in a cloak, a piece of white cloth hanging from the brim of his tall conical hat, masking his face. Ayas was sure then and remained so for the rest of his life, that behind the two holes cut in that mask, he could see the man's eyes glinting red like a wolf's.

Ayas mouth went dry with fear. He knew in an instant, as would any Helot who had grown up hearing whispered tales of such things, what he was seeing. It was a Spartan murder gang and it was heading for his family's home.

(Author's note. There is historical evidence for such gangs. Mention is made of them by for example Herodotus. They were made up of groups Spartan youths approaching the age for military service commanded by a figure that was always cloaked and masked. They operated at night and they would descended on Helot settlements, not every year but occasionally, after the harvest had been gathered in. They would kill, at the direction of their leader who always seemed to have an uncanny knack of identifying, any Helot who had shown any leadership qualities in his community. This served both to blood new recruits to the Spartan army and to help to keep the Helots down.)

Chapter 14

He had the advantage in that it was dark and he knew the ground. The Spartans too were trying to move as quietly as they could but there were many of them. At least Ayas thought eight or even a dozen. Any noise he made would be covered by the sound of their own movements. However they had now passed him and were between him and the shack. The Spartans had come up the hill from the coastal track. If he could work his way round behind them he would only have a small area of open ground to cross in order to reach the hut and this was dappled by dark shadows thrown by the building itself and the surrounding trees. He though if he was quick and lucky he had a good chance of getting across that unnoticed.

The real danger would come when he reached the door-way into the hut. The light thrown by the fire inside was only a dim one but he would be clearly outlined against it and the Spartans would be very close by then. Close enough perhaps to strike him down as he tried to dodge inside, certainly close enough to be hit by a javelin if one of the murder gang was alert and quick. Ayas did not stop to think about this. He knew he had to warn his father and he would achieve that if he made the doorway. Anyway with the unthinking confidence of extreme youth he was sure he was not going to get killed.

Bent double he flitted between trees working his way round the flank of the Spartan band. He had to be quick because, the longer he delayed, the nearer the Spartans would be to the hut. Fortunately they were moving slowly, attaching more importance to achieving surprise though an undetected approach than to speed. He reached the low wall around the yard. He had made ground and was now slightly ahead of the advancing gang. He paused a moment to catch his breath and then slid silently over the wall and ran across the open yard towards the glow of light coming from the open door-way of the hut. Every moment he expected to hear a shout from behind but none came. Now he knew the moment had arrived when discovery was inevitable. He darted forward and ducked quickly through the doorway.

There was a yell from outside a javelin thudded into the beaten earth just inside the doorway and stood quivering it's head buried in the ground inches from where Ayas was standing.

"Spartans," Ayas gasped.

Misinus had already jumped forward and snatched the javelin up. He crouched just inside the door-way the weapon levelled at waste height. There was a moments complete silence broken by a wild shout as the Spartans closed in for the kill. Crouching panting on the hut floor Ayas could see, the youths jostling each other in their eagerness to get at their prey, their oiled and naked bodies glistening in the flickering fire light.

The door way was narrow and low and Misinus jabbed and thrust with his javelin in a desperate attempt to keep his attackers at bay.

Ayas hurled himself across the hut to where he knew Misinus had hidden the spear in the thatch. Scrabbling frantically he pulled it from its hiding place and turned back to help his father.

Even as he did so a Spartan managed to slip past Misinus and into the hut. Misinus turned to face this new threat and a second and a third youth were in through the doorway. They circled Misinus looking for a chance to run in under his javelin and stab at him with their short swords.

The cloaked and masked figure of the leader of the murder gang appeared in the doorway. Stepping into the room he stood leaning on his staff silently watching the fight.

Lichas, desperate to help his father jumped on the back of one youth, locking his arms around his neck. Misinus seeing his opportunity sprang forward and drove his javelin into the Spartan�s stomach. The youth screamed and went down on his knees but even as he did so another Spartan, darted forward and lunged at Misinus gashing him deeply across the side of his left thigh.

Having got under his guard Misinus did not stand a chance. The Spartans closed in for the kill their short swords glinting in the fire light. Misinus gave one great shout of defiance and then went down under their assault.

Lichas tried to intervene but a Spartan youth buried the point of his sword in his guts. Ayas staggered forward to his father�s aid the spear far too heavy for his boy�s strength. A Spartan turned to meet him and brushing the spear point to one side with contemptuous ease and raised his sword ready to strike.

With a single stride the darkly shrouded figure was beside him catching his sword arm he arrested the youth�s blow. Ayas found himself seized and thrown back against the wall the man blocking him off from the body of the room.

Beyond the man he could see his father was down upon his knees his face and chest masked with blood still holding the javelin, still trying to ward off the blows raining down on him. Round him surged the gang of youths slashing and hacking at his body. As he watched one of the youths brought his sword slashing down with a powerful two handed blow catching Misinus across the wrist. Misinus knelt for a moment staring at the bloody stump of his arm, an expression of acute surprise on his face. Then he tumbled forwards down onto the ground.

With a loud wail Damas darted out of the shadows in the depths of the hut and throwing herself down on her knees cradled her husband�s body in her arms.

For a brief moment the gang of youths stood round the woman and the man�s lifeless carcass, the fire light glistening on their bare blood spattered limbs. It was all too obvious that the fight and the killing had excited them.

Then one youth grabbed Damas by her shoulders and pulling her away from her dead husband hurled her backwards onto the floor. He threw himself on top of her. Screaming she fought to throw him off. Laughing other young Spartans grabbed her, pinioning her arms to the floor and pulling her legs wide apart. The youth straddling her slammed his clenched fist twice into her face before pulling her ragged skirt up about her waste.

Ayas tried to slip past the gang leader to go to his mother�s help but a savage blow on the top of his head from the man�s staff knocked him to the ground. Half stunned he was forced to witness Damas�s multiple rape as the frantic youths took it in turn to ride her. At first unquelled by the blows to her head she struggled and screamed. Later she lay quiescent as one after the other the laughing youths took their brutal pleasure.

Then suddenly they were finished. Carrying the dead body of their fallen companion they slipped out of the hut. Their leader tall and silent completely shrouded in his cloak and tall hat, his face obscured under the strip of white cloth took one final glance around the hovel and followed them out.

After a time Damas moaning softly rose painfully to her feet.

"Fetch me a bowl of water and a rag," she ordered Ayas.

Standing by the fire she gingerly sponged between her legs.

"That�s the end of your dreams Misinus," Ayas heard her mutter as she looked down on her husband�s broken body. He could see the tears streaming down her face.

"You were a hard man," she continued quietly, "hard on me and hard on the children but harder still on yourself and by and large you weren�t a bad one."

"Ayas," she continued, "we�re not going to let the Spartans feed his body to the dogs like they did when they killed Dicaeus last winter. You�ll have to help me now. There�s no one else. We�ll take him up to the top of the tor behind here and put him in one of the gullies with rocks on top to keep the wolves and foxes off."

Taking hold of Misinus�s corpse by the shoulders she waited for Ayas to take hold of his father�s legs. Between them they carried the body out of the hut.

Misinus was not a tall man but he was thick set and firmly made. He was a heavy weight and an awkward burden to carry. The hill behind the house was steep and the ground broken and rocky. It was a short journey but a very hard one and Ayas had to beg his mother to stop three times so that he could rest before they reached the summit of the hill. On each occasion Damas waited silently until he was ready to resume their journey. She said nothing to indicate her impatience or to reproach the boy for his weakness but Ayas nevertheless felt ashamed and inadequate.

At last they arrived at the top of the hill,. They placed Misinus�s corpse beside one of he deep fissures that split its bare limestone summit.

"You wait here and see the foxes do not get at him," Damas said. "I will fetch Lichas. He died trying to help his father and the Spartans will not have his body either."

Silently she slipped away into the darkness leaving Ayas alone with his father�s dead body. The wind seemed to have a colder more bitter edge to it up at the top of the hill. The clouds driven across the sky afforded occasional glimpses of the moon and brightly glittering stars. The plain stretched out below him bathed in darkness, the sea a slightly lighter grey in the distance.

Ayas had never felt more alone or afraid. He had heard tales of ghosts and demons and gods that roamed the world at night. The hounds of Artemis that hunted down and tore to pieces mortal boys, the shaggy coated half human half goat like Pan who loved both boys and girls but whose love had a cruel and uncertain edge and a myriad other unquiet spirits.

To Ayas the night seemed to be full of sound and movement, the rustling of the wind in the dry grass, the distant shrill howl of a fox, a stone, dislodged by some unknown agent, rattling down the side of the hill as it fell.; even the beating of his own heart. And with all this the presence of his father�s dead body lying at his feet. A reminder and a reproach, for Ayas told himself if he had been quicker and stronger maybe he could, with his father and Lichas, fought off the Spartans saved his mother from being raped and raised the whole Messenia in revolt. He had been useless. He had not struck a blow. He had been too much of a weakling even to wield his father�s spear. He had allowed himself to be disarmed and had watched his mother�s rape powerless to intervene. He imagined his father�s spirit rising form the dead to curse him as the cause of his death and of the death of Lichas and of his mother�s rape.

He huddled down close to Misinus�s body trying to make himself as small as possible. Sobbing with terror he fought to keep the waves of panic at bay. He knew he had failed at everything else. He was determined not to fail now in this last thing he could do for his father. It would be easy to run off; to get back to the hut and to seek shelter there till the light robbed this dark world of its terrors. It would be easy but he was not going to do it.

The minutes dragged slowly past. No hungry wolf or cruel libidinous God appeared but the fear grew and strengthened its grip. The clouds driven across the face of the moon by the rising wind cast fleeting shadows that seemed the boy�s terrified eyes to be monstrous living creatures.

Ayas scrabbled among the rocks at his feet. Finding a suitable stone he gripped it in his hand ready to hurl at anything man beast or spirit that approached.

He was sure there was a sound of movement away to the left somewhere in the shifting shadows. He hurled his stone at a venture and stooped to pick up another.

"Stop that Ayas," Damas� voice ordered out of the darkness. "Stop it at once you stupid boy."

Panting with effort she reached the top of the hill cradling Lichas�s lifeless body in her arms. She stood for a brief moment at the edge of the deep gully and then, without saying a word, she dropped the boy�s corpse into it. There was a dull thud as Lichas�s body hit the ground at he bottom of the gully.

Damas bent and lifted her husband�s corpse by the shoulders. Ayas without waiting for an order took his ankles. Together they swung the body out across the fissure and let him go. Ayas tottering on the edge of the gully thought for a moment that he was going to join his father and his brother.

Then they tumbled boulders into the gully. Ayas imagined his father�s and brother�s corpses mangled and shattered by the rocks hurled down upon them. He pushed the image to the back of his mind. At least this way they would at least prevent the Spartan�s, who had so humiliated them in life, abusing their dead bodies.

After a time the sickening thud of boulders smashing down on human bodies was replaced by the clatter of rock against rock.

"I must go back to the hut," Damas announced, "the baby has been left alone for too long. You stay here Ayas and keep on piling stones into the gully. The deeper we bury the bodies the less chance the Spartans or the foxes finding them."

Alone again in the dark all the old terrors at first returned to Ayas but sheer exhaustion quickly drove them from his mind. Soon his hands and fingers were torn from scratching about for stones in the dark and his arms and back ached from fatigue. Still he laboured doggedly on until at last the first grey glimmerings of dawn began to lighten the sky to the East. In the cold half light of dawn he stumbled down the hill. The last embers of the fire in the single roomed cabin that served as their home had died away. Inside it was dark and strangely silent. In the gloom Ayas brushed up against something, something that should not be there, that seemed to swing gently away from him. He put out a hand and felt cloth and cold, very cold, flesh. In the strengthening light he could just make out his mother�s form swinging gently at the end of a rope attached to a beam in the roof.

Screaming shrilly he turned and fled from the hut out into the open air. He blundered blindly across to the low wall that bounded the small yard outside the hovel. There he cowered sobbing uncontrollably.

He knew instinctively what had happened. His mother having done her duty by her husband and placed him beyond further abuse by his Spartan lords had thought of herself. She knew the best she could look forward to was life as the drudgery and shame. She had chosen to join Misinus. Before doing so she would have smothered her baby. There was no other course open to her for motherless the child would have been exposed and left to die.

There was no suicide note to tell him this for Damas could not write and if she had been able to write a note Ayas would not have been able to read it but he knew it with a terrible certainty. Just as he knew that if he had been stronger braver boy he might have been able to stop all this happening. If he had been able to sand with his father and Lichas and fight off the Spartan murder gang then perhaps the planned rising would have taken place and all of them would have been alive. But he had failed and the result of his failure was the death of his father, his mother, his brother Lichas and the baby – all because he was a useless weakling.

Perhaps, if he had had more energy Ayas at that moment would have done as his mother had done. But he had no more strength left in him. All he could do was to hunker down by the wall as the sobs racked his thin body.

He woke suddenly. The sun was high up in the sky. He heard a horses hooves clattering on the rocks near at hand and then a loud curse. He raised his head and crouching down behind the wall he saw Xionedes� bailiff on his small pony making his way up the track towards him and plodding along behind him his sister Caria whom he had thought he had lost for ever and a sturdy male Helot whom he had never seen before in his life.

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