Zelamir

Helot

The Adventures of Ayas the Slave-boy

Chapters 15-22

Chapter 15

"Come out from there you stupid little brute," the bailiff up on his pony had spotted Ayas crouched behind the stone wall , "and where�s your mother the lazy cow? She�d better get out here quick or I�ll flay the hide from her back with the lash."

"Please Lord…" Ayas began reluctantly stepping out into the open and then memories of Damas� body swaying slowly at in the gloom of the shack overcame him.

"Come on slut. Don�t stand there mouthing at me. Where is the whore?"

Ayas squealed in pain as the Bailliff viciously cut him across the front of his thighs with his lash.

"Please Lord," Ayas dropped to his knees in the dirt, pain and fear overcoming the hatred in his heart. "She�s dead Master."

At these words Caria, learning for the first time of the death of her mother, gave out a loud wail of sorrow and despair.

"Shut up bitch," the Bailiff snapped turning and cracking the whip across her bare shins.

"What do you mean you miserable little runt," he continued turning back to Ayas and raising his arm threateningly as the naked boy cowered in the dust. "Dead. She isn�t dead. The insolent oaf Misinus has been killed and serve him right for defying the will of the Gods� who decreed he should serve my master Xionedes but the bitch wasn�t killed. Why should she be… a good strong whore with plenty of work in her. You�d better tell me nowhere she�s hiding or I�ll have you strung up by your wrists and flay the skin from your worthless body."

"She�s in the hut Lord," Ayas said choking back his tears, "but Lord she is dead…"

"Get to your feet boy and take my horse for me," the bailiff snapped swinging himself out of the saddle and throwing the reigns to Ayas, "I�ll have the lazy cow out of there in a second I expect she�s just playing up thinking that if she lies still she�ll be spared a days work just because the stubborn brute who fathered children on her has been killed."

The bailiff ducked inside the low doorway into the hut. There�s was a moment�s silence and then he swore loudly.

"Phocis," the bailiff shouted from inside the hut, "come here at once and make yourself useful for once."

The Helot man, whom Ayas had first seen with Caria trudging up the track behind the bailiff�s pony, hurried forward and stooping entered the shack in his turn.

Then there was a pause while Ayas stood holding the pony, the sun warm on his bare back, listening to Caria�s quiet sobbing and the sound of the bailiff�s voice issuing orders inside the hut.

"Lift the bitch�s carcass while I cut the rope…higher you lazy oaf…that�s better… Just drop the thing and pull it outside…no I�m not going to dirty my hands helping you carry it…haul it out by its feet…get on with it I haven�t got all day…"

The bailiff reappeared at the door of the hut and stepped out into the sun light. Phocis backed out after him pulling Damas� body behind him by its ankles. The ragged smock that was her only covering had rucked up around her shoulders leaving her body naked.

Caria screamed and threw herself down on her mother�s corpse wailing loudly.

Muttering to himself, the bailiff raised his whip threateningly and then apparently thinking better of it he shrugged his shoulders and turned to speak to Phocis.

"Well there�s one less pair of hands so you�ll have to work yourself and the bitch even harder than before but you should feel grateful to Lord Xionedes for finding you the holding and a whore and his friends for getting her in whelp though I suppose you�ll get rid of that when it comes. Just leave it out on the hillside for the wolves to eat…"

"Now," he continued taking the reigns of his pony from Ayas, "Lord Xionedes gave the little bitch to his friends to enjoy but now he wants you for his own use. Come on boy."

Ayas glanced back over his shoulder as he trotted after the bailiff�s pony away from the shack. Caria was still lying on her mother�s body. Phocis was on his knees beside her. He seemed to be trying to comfort her.

The bailiff had number of tasks to perform and he did not go directly back to Xionedes house. He trotted from holding to holding bullying and threatening, spreading misery and unhappiness and using his whip freely on the miserable Helots in his charge. Fairly early in the day he had decided that Ayas was not keeping up with him so he bound the boy�s wrists together and tied them with a length of cord to the pony�s tail. After that Ayas had to keep up.

For Ayas it was a long and weary day as he stumbled along behind the bailiff�s pony or squatted in the dirt in a series of farm yards tormented by flies. His misery was increased even more by the fact that the bailiff�s mission that day, a mission it was clear he thoroughly enjoyed, was to announce the killing of that ungrateful and sacrilegious wretch Misinus, who had dared plot against his lord, and to require seven additional days labour from every Helot man woman and child on their lord�s land as a form of collective punishment and as a pledge of future loyalty and subordination. The bailiff always combined this demand with a lecture on the virtues and necessity of subordination to the will of the Gods� and to illustrating the dire consequences of resistance by the miserable fate endured by Misinus and this slut (kicking the cowering Ayas in the bottom) his son who is being taken to Lord Xionedes for him to enjoy before, if he survived that experience, having his balls cut off and being sold as a slave. The Helots listening to him, glad to have someone to blame and eager to disassociate themselves from the planned revolt, cursed and spat at the son of the man who had brought these fresh misfortunes down on them.

At midday the bailiff halted outside yet another mean shack and having delivered his cruel message demanded food and drink for himself from the cringing Helots. Ayas having been allowed to drink at the same trough as the pony had to hunker down in the dirt and watch with hungry eyes as the man ate.

There were many other hovels for the bailiff to visit and Helots to bully and torment and a man who is enjoying his work, the way he was enjoying his, does not hurry it. It was late evening by the time he walked his pony into the courtyard of Xionedes house with Ayas tethered by his wrists to his saddle staggering behind him. The boys naked body was caked with sweat and dust, his legs torn and bruised from when he had stumbled. Exhausted he stood in the yard head bowed without even the energy to look about him. The bailiff swung himself from the pony and untying the cord that secured Ayas to the saddle shouted for assistance.

A side door opened in the wall of the house and an old crone shuffled forward out of the shadows.

"Hurry up you stupid old sow," the bailiff snapped impatiently. "Here�s another boy whore for you to prepare for our Lord to enjoy. Take the little slut from me and let me get inside and have my dinner."

"How am I to do anything with the brat now," the woman grumbled taking the cord secured to Ayas� wrists from the bailiff, "it�s almost dark. He�ll have to wait till the morning. The Master has more than enough pretty slave boys already to keep him happy."

"Maybe but he�s had his eye on this one for a few years now, just waiting for him to ripen. He made a special point that I should collect the little tyke today and bring him in so I would take some trouble with him if I was you."

"There�s plenty more where this one came from and just as good for the Master to enjoy," the woman muttered cantankerously but nevertheless she gave a sharp tug on the cord and started to drag Ayas towards the house.

Ayas stumbled through the door which opened immediately into a room lit only by the uncertain glow of a smouldering fire and a single oil lamp. It was dark but he had the impression of a long low chamber and he could just make out the huddled shapes of people slumbering on the ground. The floor under his bare feet was of beaten earth. In many ways it was just a larger version of the hovel that he used to call home.

The woman led Ayas to a corner of the room far away from the fire. A dog was lying there chained to a heavy iron ring. It stirred and growled as they approached.

"Shut up you ugly brute" she growled and bending secured the rope by which she was leading Ayas to the same ring.

"You�ll be safe enough there till morning when there�ll be light enough for me to get to work getting you in a fit state for the Master to play with. Now be quiet and let us all get some sleep."

Turning away she shuffled off into the gloom.

The dog growled again and got ponderously to its feet. Ayas felt a cold damp nose pressed against his legs. The dog investigated further and deciding, rightly, that there was no harm in the boy gave him a friendly lick and settled back down to sleep.

Encouraged by the single act of kindness he had experienced that day Ayas turned and seated himself on the floor his back to the wall. He was thirsty and hungry and very, very tired. He rolled onto his side the rope tugging at his wrists as he did so. The night air was cold even in the enclosed room against his bare flesh. He pressed up against the dog getting warmth and comfort from its shaggy body. Soon both boy and dog were asleep.

Ayas woke to find the room just stirring to life. Men and women rose from the floor where they had been sleeping, shook themselves and snatched drinks and food before the labours of the day began. The boy lay still on the floor watching, wondering if he was ever going to get anything to eat but frightened to draw attention to himself. The dog with no such inhibitions began to whimper and pull at its chain.

A man came across, a heavy set brutal looking fellow wearing a threadbare and stained tunic.

"Shut up Batis curse you," he said holding out an earthenware bowl full of scraps to the dog, "eat this and give us some peace."

The dog buried its head in the bowl and began to gulp the food down noisily.

"Why," he continued with an evil leer noticing Ayas who had been partly hidden by the dog, "what have we got here?"

Ayas alarmed both by the man�s appearance and his bullying contemptuous manner crouched back as tight as he could against the wall.

The man reached out and grabbing Ayas by his hair hauled him away from the wall forcing his head back so he could look down into the boy�s face.

"Noxid," he shouted to an equally brutish and unpleasant in appearance who was slouching past on some errand, "come here and have a look at what�s turned up."

Ayas found himself staring up at two men their unshaven faces split by cruel grins that revealed rows of broken and discoloured teeth.

"Grubby but pretty," Noxid remarked. "Don�t tell me the slut has spent the night sleeping with the dog."

"Looks like it… What say we give old Batis a treat he hasn�t had it off poor old sod for months."

"Good idea Arion," Noxid replied seizing Batis by the collar and dragging him forward towards where Ayas crouched. "You hold the slut and I�ll see the dog gets a good smell of what�s on offer."

Ayas struggled and yelled as Noxid his hand buried in boy�s hair forced his head down till his face was pressing against the ground. For a moment Ayas was doubled over on his knees, his bottom raised and open. He felt Batis� snout cold and damp pressing into his crack. He pushed his knees back quickly so that he was lying flat on the floor of beaten earth. Batis growled his disappointment and frustration while nuzzling his bare rump.

"Get you arse up in the air," Arion shouted kicking the boy in the side. "Get it up you stubborn little brute…Someone fetch me the spit from by the fire…Thanks… Now get you�re your bum up…"

Ayas howled as the man cracked the iron rod down hard across his bottom but kept his hips pressed hard down upon the floor.

"Please…please let me go…please don�t make me … please," he sobbed.

"Let me get at the boy," Ayas heard a harsh male voice say and a hand was forced under his hips. His balls were held in an iron grip and twisted forcing his bottom upwards.

Batis� nose was once more pressed into the cleft of Ayas� bottom. Then the dog was on top of him scrabbling at his shoulders with is front paws the back of his neck gripped hard in the beast�s jaws. Ayas squealed shrilly as the hound hammered at his bottom with heavy thrusts of its hindquarters. Laughter and jeers rose from the watching crowd.

"What�s going on?…What�s happening here?…Can�t a woman go out for a crap without you clowns making idiots of yourselves?… Get that animal off the boy… Throw a bucket of water over it… "

Even in his distress Ayas recognised the voice of the old hag who had taken charge of him the previous evening.

Cold water splashed on him and the weight was removed from his shoulders as the dog was dragged off him.

"What�s the trouble Mother?" Arion grumbled releasing his hold on Ayas� hair. "We were only having a bit of fun with a helot boy that�s been brought up here for a whipping or something to teach it its place. What�s the fuss about? Poor old Batis is real disappointed now."

"It�s not just any Helot brat," the old woman replied furiously, "it�s a boy that the Master has had brought here special for his use and…" at these words the watching the crowd began to disperse even more quickly than it had gathered.

"And," she continued, "don�t you 'mother' me Arion. I�m not your mother and wouldn�t want to be – a stupid oaf whose likely to finish his life nailed to a cross… you know the way the Master treats anyone who gets up to anything with any of his special boys… You can thank the God�s that dog didn�t have time to get fairly lodged in the boy. If he had you�d be decorating a gibbet outside the walls before evening."

"Now get out of my sight and I�ll get on with cleaning this brat up so it�s in a fit state for the Master. Come on you," and unhitching the rope securing Ayas to the ring in the wall she led him out of the house.

"You stay here," she said stopping by the water cistern that stood against the wall of the house.

"Mother," Ayas whined. He had sharp ears and a quick mind. He had heard Arian address the old woman in this way and he though the might curry favour her with her if he followed suite. "Mother could I have something to eat please Mother, I didn�t have anything to eat all day yesterday, just some water and I�m hungry."

"Shut up…all you Helot brats ever think about is your bellies," the old woman snarled in reply clipping him hard on the side of the head, "greedy, idle little sluts. Still I suppose the Master won�t thank me if you go and die before he has had a chance to get his hands on you. Though why he should be bothered I don�t know. There are plenty more like you about."

Muttering bad temperedly to herself she stumped off into the house to return a moment later with an earthen wear bowl filled with a thin barley porridge.

"Get that into you and be quick so that I can get on with cleaning you up," and she waddled off once again into the house.

Ayas squatted down in the shadow of the water cistern with his back against the wall of the house doing his best to be as inconspicuous as possible.

With his wrists tied together in front of him he could only cradle the bowl in his hands and bury his face in its contents. The gruel was watery but Ayas was both used to such fare and very hungry so he gulped it down eagerly and it was not long before he had licked the bowl clean.

Getting as tight back into his corner as he possibly could he settled down to wait. He didn�t even think of trying to runaway for where was there for him to run to? All he could do was to wait for the return of the old woman and above all to try not to attract attention to himself.

Huddled in his hiding place Ayas watched the bustle of the courtyard. Domestic slaves hurried to and fro on various errands, a maid servant carrying a wicker basket filled with eggs, a gaggle of them carrying bundles of washing, a man servant leading a mule bearing a load of logs, another driving a sheep in front of him. There seemed always to be movement and activity.

On the opposite side of the yard was a long low building which was obviously a range of stabling, for horses were being led out of it and being saddled by boys that seemed to Ayas hardly older than himself. The horses fascinated him, each one of them infinitely larger and stronger than the scrubby little beast the bailiff rode. They seemed to Ayas things of wonder, of power, beauty and strength.

"Come out of there now boy," the old woman�s voice hectoring and harsh brought Ayas back to reality.

As she plonked a leather bucket filled with steaming water on the ground the boys on the opposite side of the yard as if at a given signal mounted their horses and trotted out of the yard. One horse, a powerful black, seemed particularly high spirited, scittering and dancing and throwing his head up as he went.

"Race horses," the old woman said seeing Ayas� eyes following the animals out of the yard. "Lord Xionedes is real keen on them. He wants town the best string in Sparta."

"What�s the name of the black horse Mother? The big one that was playing up."

"Vulcan. He�s a wild one that one. He has won more races than any other horse that the Master owns or has owned but he�s killed two boys already and I don�t think the present boy will last long either – but brats are cheap not like horses."

Chapter 16

Indeed Ayas was filthy. His body was caked dirt. Through the greyish mixture of congealed sweat and dust that covered his skin darker patches showed, especially on his knees and legs, where he had stumbled and grazed himself, drawing blood. His hair was matted and unkempt. The remains of the porridge that he had so eagerly devoured had run down his chin and smeared his face about his mouth. Some had even got onto his nose when he had tried to lick the bowl clean.

And he itched everywhere. The irritation was so great that he could not keep still. Even as the hag kept a firm grip of his arm he tried to raise his bound hands to scratch his desperately itching scalp.

The woman looked keenly at him.

"It's like that is it," she said grimly.

Transferring her grip on the boy's arm to the back of his neck she drew his head forward and down. Her fingers parted Ayas' hair and he felt her breath on the top of his head as she bent forward to examine his scalp.

"Fleas and lice," she said in a disgusted tone of voice. "Why the Master, as fine a Spartan gentleman that there ever was and who could afford to have the pick of the slave markets of Corinth, chooses to fuck the bottoms of filthy Helot brats like you I can never understand. Vermin carrying vermin that's what the likes of you are…."

"I try to be clean…I only started itching real bad this morning….They must have come from the dog…"

Ayas' protests were broken short by a hefty clout on the ear.

"Shut up filth," the hag screamed hitting the boy again on the other ear, "what does it matter whether you picked up the lice from the dog or the dog picked them up from you. Either is equally likely I'd say, a couple of nasty dirty animals the pair of you. What matters is the Master has taken a fancy to fuck your tight little rump and I've got to get you cleaned up so he can do so without picking up nits and the Gods know what else from your smelly little carcass."

"Now kneel down and I'll crop your head. Your too young to have any hair on any other part of your body, which is a mercy, though the Master wouldn't want you if you did. He likes his sluts young."

Grumbling to herself the old woman seated herself on the door step and forcing Ayas onto his knees at her feet set about hacking his hair from his head with a pair of sheep sheers. Ayas, his ears still ringing from the woman's blows, submitted to this silently apart from the occasional squawk of protest when the sheers tugged painfully at his hair. Clumps of hair, shorn from his head, fell onto his bare shoulders and formed a dark glistening circle on the ground about his knees.

About them, the seated woman and the naked kneeling boy, the life of the yard and the great house went on regardless. Occasionally a man or woman passing nearby them would throw out a bawdy comment or obscene suggestion. Otherwise no one took any notice of them. All the time the woman mumbled on to herself about the virtues of her master, his glorious ancestry, his beauty as a boy, his good looks as a grown man, his strength, his courage, his wealth (authors note by the time of the period in which this story is set some at least of the Spartans had become corrupted and the ancient laws of Lycurgus were increasingly evaded), the fleetness of his horses and how strange it was with all this he liked little Helot boys, filthy little animals, scum of the earth, useless good for nothing vermin. All of which made Ayas realise that the soubriquet "mother" was applied to the hag in appreciation of her age not her good nature.

Having cropped Ayas' hair as close to his skull as she could manage the old woman set about washing the boy. The hot water in the bucket had a strange pungent smell and it stung horribly as she swabbed the boy down with a rag. Ayas wriggled and whimpered as the water got into the many open cuts and scratches on his body earning himself a hard open handed slap on the rump and an order to be still..

The woman was thorough and there was not a square inch of Ayas's body that was not sponged and cleaned. She worked down his body, first his head, behind the ears, inside the ears, the nostrils, down his chest. Then she ordered him to his feet and telling him to lift his bound hands clear of his crutch she began sponge between his legs.

"You've not got much down here," she remarked, pulling his balls to one side so as to wash behind them, "no bigger than a couple of garden peas I doubt if you'll notice when the Master has you gelded."

"Though," she continued as she took the boy's small twig like prick in one hand and it immediately hardened and stood upright, "you seem a hot little whore."

She rolled the boy's foreskin back and sponged the dirt and sweat that had accumulated under it.

"He'll have that off you soon enough…serves no purpose….just collects filth…but till he does the job I'll have to keep behind it clean and a mucky little brute like you can't be trusted to do that yourself."

Ayas' legs were the most painful part of his body to be washed because they had been badly cut about and grazed the previous day when he had been forced to run behind the bailiff's pony as he was brought to Xionedes' house. Then the whole process had to be repeated with his back, the old women grumbling and muttering as she swabbed the congealed dust and sweat away from the boy's shoulders and rump.

She placed one hand on the back of Ayas' head forcing him to bend forward. Ayas tensed in anticipation of what was to come next.

"How am I to clean in there with your bottom clamped tight," she demanded delivering a hard open handed smack across Ayas' bum. "Get your legs apart filth."

Obediently Ayas shuffled his feet apart and gasped as he felt the damp rag being worked vigorously along his crack and into his hole.

"Don't make such a fuss boy," the hag snapped. "You wait till the Master fucks you boy. You'll have something to scream about then."

With that promise she turned her attention to the backs of the boy's thighs. Water ran in silver streams down Ayas' firm brown flesh.

"Now," the woman said sponging the last vestiges of dirt from the back of the boy's heels, "turn round to face me again."

Her fingers fumbled at the tight knots as she untied the cord binding the boy's wrists together. There were angry red ridges where the rope had galled the boy's flesh.

After sponging them clean she ordered Ayas to lie face down across her knees. She guided him down and slipping one hand between his legs forced his hips upwards lifting and opening his bottom. Lying there, with the bustle of the yard all about him Ayas felt utterly exposed and helpless.

He squealed and tensed as a finger probed his hole. Then knowing there was no escape and remembering what Ocytus had told him to do the first time he penetrated him, he pushed outwards, relaxing his sphincter. There was, as always, a moment of intense pain as the passage was forced open.

"Someone's been in here before," the woman said ,working her finger tip deeper into the boy.

"My Mam Mother. Lord Xionedes said he wanted me and told her to prepare me for his use." Ayas knew instinctively that it was best not to let on that his bottom had already been enjoyed both by Ocytus and Callias.

He gave a small moan for the woman's questing fingertip had touched a peculiarly sensitive point. Clamping his bottom tight around it he strained trying to draw it deeper into himself.

"Well you're eager for it," the woman remarked, "though whether you'll be so keen when the Master is ramming his cock into you is another matter. I expect you'll be squealing like a stuck pig then…."

Slowly the woman drew her finger back until, with a soft plop, it came clear of Ayas' bottom.

Then Ayas jerked backwards and screamed as she jabbed hard into his bottom again.

"That's good, you can't take two fingers, yet at least. That means you haven't had a man up you" the woman remarked. "Just loose enough give to let the Master get a lodgement in there but tight enough so you'll feel it. He likes to rip his sluts open the first time."

"Now get off me," she ordered slapping Ayas hard on his bare rump, "your ready to be taken to the Master now."

Taking Ayas by one arm he led him back into the house and into the hall where he had slept the previous night. Then in the semi-darkness he had just go the impression of a large room with many people crowded in it. Now seeing it in the light he thought that with its beaten earth floor, rough stone walls it was not all that different from the hovel in which he and his family had lived except of course that it was much bigger. He wondered why a great Lord like Xionedes did not have a grander place to live in.

Silently the old hag led him forward across the hall. People, domestic slaves by the look of them, turned to look curiously at them.

Ayas heard a girl only a few years older than himself remark as they passed "another one for the Lord to play with poor little brute" before being quickly hushed.

They came to a small door and the women pushed it open. Immediately they were in another world. A world of light, of white marble floors, plastered walls with brilliantly coloured murals, of colonnaded walks and open courtyards with fountains and strutting peacocks.

Ayas checked he had seen nothing like it ever before in his life. The colour and light was overwhelming. Painted Gods and Godesses rioted about him taking their pleasure with beautiful maidens and equally beautiful boys. Marble statues, some painted, others plain white, all so exquisitely formed that you could almost see them breath and move, stood about. Hidden behind the coarse and unlovely exterior of a Spartan manor house lurked a villa of almost un-parelleled luxury.

Above the sound of water splashing in the fountains came the sweet clear sound of a young boy's voice raised in song accompanied by the delicate tones of a lyre.

The woman jerked impatiently at Ayas' arm dragging him towards the sound of the boy's voice. Suddenly in front of them half lying on a couch was Xionedes, a hand resting on the bare thigh of the naked boy who was singing while accompanying himself on a lyre. The boy was beautiful with a slim finely toned body and long black lustrous hair. He had an air of elegance and confidence that, together with his long hair, declared him to be a Spartan boy of the highest class. A little way off stood another boy, also naked and beautiful but the thin silver collar round his neck and the way he stood, with his head bowed and his eyes fixed respectfully on the floor, marked him out as a slave.

Xionedes whose gaze had been fixed on his companion turned his head and glanced towards where Ayas and the woman stood. For a moment the man's gaze rested on Ayas and the boy shivered in fear.

The woman jerked urgently on his arm and he dropped to his knees on the floor beside her.

"Right down," she whispered urgently pressing her head to the floor.

As Ayas followed suite the boy's voice rose above them clear, sweet and utterly heartless. The song spoke of the love of a boy for his handsome friend the bravest strongest warrior in the whole army, of his fears for his safety and the joy he would feel when he returns home triumphant.

"Well done," said Xionedes as the boy fell silent, "a fine song for a Spartan boy Gianes my love."

"Thank you Xionedes," the boy replied leaning his head against the man's bare chest "I am glad you like my singing for I sing to please you."

"And you do please me Gianes. You please me very much," Xionedes said bending his head and brushing the boy's forehead with his lips.

Lifting his face to return the kiss the boy's eyes fell on Ayas crouched on the floor head pressed to the ground his bare rump cocked up in the air.

"Why's that piece of Helot filth been brought here," Gianes demanded sitting suddenly upright.

"Oh," Xionedes replied with a slightly unconvincing casualness, "that's Tithones replacement."

The slave boy who up to then had been standing quietly in the background started convulsively and tears began to stream down his face.

"I don't see why you need Tithones and I don't see why you need to replace him," Gianes said petulantly. "You have me. Aren't I good enough."

"You are too good my darling boy. You must not allow yourself to be jealous of filth like these sluts. You I love…. Brutes like these I use. I can do things to them and have them do things for me that I could not ask you to do and that I would not want you to do and that you most certainly would never agree to do. You are utterly different from them. You are a free Spartan boy. There is nothing prouder, nobler or braver in the world. They are mere slaves bred to serve their betters – just another form of livestock. They don't feel, they don't think like us. They are without pride or modesty. They are animals."

"Look I will show you what I mean… Tithones here."

Xionedes raised his hand and beckoned the slave boy to him.

Tithones came quickly forward and dropping to his knees prostrated himself at the feet of the two Spartans where they lounged on the couch.

"Up" Xionedes ordered and the boy got quickly to his feet standing head bowed, his hands down by his side, making no effort to hide his nakedness, in front of his master.

"Have you ever seen anything more despicable?" Xionedes asked Gianes, "the little whore is without either modesty or pride. This is all the slut cares about. Look"

Reaching out Xionedes touched the boy's testicles which were pushed enticingly out from his body by a silver ring about their roots. The boy's tiny prick jumped to attention. Panting slightly the boy pushed his hips forward trying to ride the palm of the man's hand.

"Why's he crying?" Gianes asked.

"Who knows or cares. Probably at the thought of loosing his balls. It's a funny thing but I'll get four or five times more for him without them than if I sold him entire. There's always a demand for pretty gelded boys."

"Mind you," Xionedes continued settling back and withdrawing his hand from Tithones' balls, "the thing is not without its risks. A brat dies on you every now and again but I'm getting better at it now. Out of the last three I cut two survived. And with the premium such stock commands in the market that survival rate ensures me a tidy profit."

"But you can see what I mean Gianes can't you? I can't love something like this. There's nothing to love just a pretty face and a nice bottom for fucking but nothing more."

"Mind you I should get a good price for him, provided he doesn't go and die on us, good looking brat , healthy, look at the blush on his skin and he's an expert little slut. It's a funny thing once I've got a boy really well schooled I loose interest in him. I enjoy breaking and training fresh stock and I'm good at it as well."

"Gods how the brat is howling. I can hardly hear myself speak."

And indeed Tithones, who had been struggling to hold back the tears from the moment that Xionedes had announced the arrival of his replacement, had now completely lost control of himself and was openly sobbing.

"Tithones," Gianes jeered fighting back his laughter and reaching out and pinching the sobbing brat's testicles, "what's the matter? You're not frightened of having your balls cut off. Why they're very small little things. I doubt if you'll hardly notice they've gone."

With a wail Tithones threw himself to the floor at Xionedes feet.

"Master, please Master," he moaned pressing his lips to the man's feet, "please spare me Master, please. Please let me keep my balls and Master if I can't keep my balls please anyway let me stay with you Master and serve You Master Please don't send me away. I'll try really hard to please you Master….."

The boy's pleas were brought to an abrupt halt by a vicouse kick full in his face from Xionedes.

"Shut up you stupid turd," the Spartan shouted, That's quite enough of that. My minds made up. I've no further use for you. Now get back to your place."

"And now Phaedra, you ghastly old hag, bring Ayas forward and let me have a look at him.

As Tithenes slunk back dabbing at his bleeding nose with the back of his hand, the old woman pulled Ayas to his feet .

"Do you know Xionedes," Gianes remarked laughing as Ayas was led reluctantly forward, "I think that slut Tithones must love you he wants to stay with you so much."

"No doubt the brat does after his fashion. Who else is there for a slave boy to love but his master."

Chapter 17

"Come nearer child," Xionides said with surprising gentleness and reaching forward slipped his hand round the boy's bottom drawing Ayas closer to him.

Ayas felt Xionides hands on his shoulders pressing downwards. He sank to his knees between the man's widely parted legs. His nostrils caught a faint whiff of the sharp odour of stale sweat and faeces. All he could see was the man's cock and heavy balls just inches away from his face. The boy's eyes rested apprehensively on the massive tube of flesh and gristle, monstrous enough even now when it lay flaccid and still in the thick forest of black pubic hair, wondering fearfully how his slim body would accommodate so formidable an object once the man had been aroused.

Ayas, following his experience with Ocytus, thought he knew what was now required of him. He was frightened but there was no point in delaying. What would be would be. There was he knew no escape for him. If he tried to put things off he would only add the pains of a beating to his other sufferings. Taking a deep breath he moistened his lip and bent forward to begin his allotted task.

Xionides' hand caught him under the chin lifting his head back.

"Not yet Ayas, not yet. Don't be so eager. First I must check you over to see you are clean and healthy."

"You see, it's just as I said all these Helot boys are the same," he continued contemptuously speaking to Gianes, "natural whores just aching for a taste of Spartan cock."

As he spoke he tilted Ayas' head back and turning it with his thumb under the boy's chin one way and another looked down into the boy's face as he moved his fingers across it.

"A nice little whore though, look at that petty little nose and his smooth skin and the colour in his cheeks and those soft lips just made to suck cock, and those teeth," one finger pulled back Ayas' lower lip, "like pearls."

"But Phaedra why have you shaved the slut's hair off? I didn't give orders for that to be done."

"The brat had lice and fleas Master. You know how dirty Helot boys are when they're left to themselves. I had to shave his head Master to get rid of them and make the slut nice and clean and sweet for you."

Making no reply to this Xionides placed his two hands under Ayas' arms and eased the boy to his feet. The man moved his hands down the boy's chest, squeezing his nipples, feeling the ribs under the tightly drawn skin and the light flutter of his heart. Xionides worked his way steadily downwards, digging his thumbs into the boy's flat belly and squeezing his waist.

Ayas' excited by the man's touch felt his prick stir and jerk upwards.

"Look that Gianes," Xionides said flicking the tip of Ayas's stiff little cock with his thumb nail. "I wouldn't be surprised if the tart isn't squirting boy juice young as it is – filthy minded little brute."

"Tithones," the man snapped imperiously, "fetch me the tray of cock rings. I'd better get one on the brat now or he'll be shooting his filth everywhere."

The naked Helot boy, who had been standing back with his head respectfully bowed darted off to return a few moments later with a wooden tray on which lay glinting in the light a number of silver rings of various sizes. Kneeling the lad offered the tray to his master. Xionides disdainfully pushed the rings about with the tip of his index finger before selecting one of the smallest. Waving Tithones away he turned his attention back to Ayas.

Xionides reached out attempting to grip Ayas's balls, no bigger than a couple of grapes, between his finger and thumb. In an involuntary response to this threatened assault the boy's testicles retracted themselves into his body.

"Hold the brat steady for me Gianes would you please," Xionides said quietly.

Ayas felt him seized from behind by the Spartan youth who held him with his arms under his and his hands linked behind his head while Xionides dug into his body attempting to extract his balls. Pushing backwards in a vain attempt to get away from Xionides the boy felt Gianes erect cock pressing along the cleft of his bottom, its tip against the small of his back.

Xionides probing fingers eventually managed to get a grip of the Ayas's balls and succeeded with some difficulty in squeezing them, together with the boy's prick, through the through the broad but narrow ring, so that it was set tight around the base of his testicles, forcing them forward and away from his body in a delightfully provocative manner.

The agonized contortions of Ayas's smooth young body while this was being done to him rubbing against his own increased Gianes excitement to crisis point. With a low moan the youth released his hold of the boy. Ayas felt warm damp liquid trickling down his bare back.

"We'll have that off too when I have a moment to spare," Xionides continued flicking Ayas' foreskin with his index finger. A Spartan youth ejaculating over a Helot slut was clearly in his opinion so common place an event as to be unworthy of comment.

His hands travelled down Ayas's legs as he continued his inspection exclaiming from time to time at the many cuts and grazes that marred the smooth lines of the boy's young body.

With a hand on Ayas' hip Xionides turned the boy so he was facing away from him. Ayas stood quietly as the man continued his inspection of his body. The man's hands moved slowly up the back of lad's legs. Ayas stirred uneasily when Xionides hands began to explore his bottom but checked himself at a word from him. Placing the flat of one hand on the small of the boy's back Xionides pushed gently. Responding to the pressure Ayas leant forward and felt the man's thumbs prying open the cleft of his bottom. Ayas braced himself for a further and more painful invasion but Xionides merely grunted approvingly before his hands resumed their slow upward journey.

"What," Xionides demanded suddenly, "are these marks on the boy's shoulders Here, these vertical scrapes, they're quite unlike the welts you usually find on a brat's shoulders raised by the belt or strap and these marks on the back of his neck as if something's gripped him there breaking the skin and drawing blood."

"Oh Master," Phaedra said giggling, "that's where the old hound Batis tried to mount the slut. I said Sir they slept together and the old dog took a great fancy to the boy. Tried to mount the brat and it was no easy task stopping it either I can tell you Sir. It was so eager and the boy was willing enough too. You should have seen the pair of them Sir. The slut kneeling there with his face down on the ground and his bottom pushed up in the air and the old hound on top of him hammering away like there was no tomorrow."

"Shall I get Batis Master?" she continued eagerly struck by a happy thought. "I'm sure the randy old brute would be glad of a second chance………"

"Master please don't, Master, please," Ayas broke in twisting round to kneel at Xionides feet, outraged both by the suggestion that he wanted to be fucked by the dog and that the animal should be brought back to complete the job.

Ayas' outburst was followed by a brief moment of total silence, then Xionides spoke quietly.

"Did you say anything to the little whore Gianes?" he asked.

"No nothing," the Spartan lad replied.

"I thought not, nor did I."

Without warning Xionides smashed his fist into the side of the kneeling boy's face knocking him sprawling.

"Ayas, you insolent little toad," he said kicking the whimpering child hard in the ribs, "you don't or can't learn. You are as stubborn and as stupid as that oaf of a father of yours was before he was made into carrion for the foxes to feast on. Helot sluts like you only speak when they are spoken to. I remember the last time I came across you having to get your father to thrash that pretty little bottom of yours in an attempt to teach you a proper respect for your betters. But it is clear we were unduly lenient with you. I will not make that mistake again. As the cane failed to get through to you we will try what a taste of the whip will do."

"Can I whip him?" Gianes asked eagerly. "As a Spartan I've got to learn to use the whip and I would like to flay the skin from the back of a pretty little slut like him."

"Not this time Gianes," Xionides said smiling indulgently, "I think it would be better if I did the job myself."

"Why not? Why should you have all the fun," the youth burst out petulantly. "I can't see why I can't flog the brat as well as you. If you cared about me like you say you do you'd let me do it. You just want the enjoyment of doing it yourself. It's mean and selfish."

"Now remember what happened the last time you took the whip to one of my brats. You took his eye out with it. "

"Well what does that matter? There's plenty more about from where he came from."

"It wouldn't matter, Gianes dear, if the boy was just one of the ordinary brats about the place. He could do his work with one eye just as well as two and if he couldn't, as you say, there are plenty more like him to take his place. But Ayas is special. He's pretty and he's got the making of a very valuable boy whore. He'll fetch a good price at the slave mart especially if I geld the brat but not if he's put up on the block an eye short."

"I still don't think it fair," the Spartan lad protested hotly.

"All right, all right," Xionides said laughing good humouredly at the lad's indignation. "I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll have one of the brats, from the stables this time I think, strung up and you can show me how good you are with the whip on his carcass."

"Ayas can watch and see what he's going to get. I don't suppose he has seen a boy being hung up for a whipping before and the sight will concentrate his mind."

"Phaedra go and get one of the boys from the stables and bring him to the punishment yard. Choose a strong well grown brute that'll take a good hard flogging."

"Tithones it looks as though you will be able to keep your balls for a little longer. Ayas's back will take a few days to heal and I don't fancy having a slave boy bleeding all over my bedding even before I start to play with him."

"Gianes come along. This is your chance to show me how good you are with the whip and I can see you are looking forward to it."

With an arm round the Spartan youth's shoulders Xionides began to move away from where Ayas was still cringing, huddled on the ground, the golden brown of his warm naked flesh contrasting with the cold whiteness of the marble flagstones. As the Spartan Lord moved off two sturdy Helots appeared and grabbed the boy by his arms. Hauling him to his feet they dragged him along behind Xionides.

Ayas was hustled through a series of spacious rooms with brilliantly coloured murals and courtyards where climbing vines gave welcome shade from the glare of the sun and fountains filled the air with the sound of running water and then through a narrow doorway out into the full glare of the sun. Blank stone walls enclosed a large courtyard. Here there were no fountains, no murals or statues, nothing of prettiness or luxury. It was a stark functional place and its purpose was made clear by its freshly raked sand floor and the two stout beams with an equally sturdy cross bar that stood in its centre.

To one side of this gibbet a brazier smouldered an iron bar protruding from it. Xionides strode forward and grasping the end of this bar drew it from the smouldering charcoal. He stood looking down at its dully glowing tip.

There was the sound of a boy's shrill voice raised in protest and Phaedra hurried into the courtyard followed by a man, a domestic slave by the look of him, hauling a well built boy, his only clothing a torn and dirty tunic, along by his ear.

"Let me go…I've done nothing let me go…," the youth continued his protests and then seeing Xionides fell suddenly silent.

The slave, whom Ayas recognised as Nixod, the man who had tried to force him to allow the hound Batis to mount him, gave the boy's ear a further vicious twist and then released him. The lad dropped to his knees and cowered whimpering quietly.

"I hope this one will do Master," Phaedra said ingratiatingly. "I took him from the stables where he was mucking out with a couple of other brats. He was the biggest and strongest I could find."

Xionides said nothing but silently crooked a finger. Now openly sobbing with terror the boy shuffled forward on his knees.

"A chance to test if the iron is hot enough," Xionides remarked to Gianes who stood beside him making no effort to hide his swollen prick that, standing upright and quivering, betrayed his excitement.

Without further warning Xionides twisted his free hand in the kneeling lad's hair, forcing his head back. Then, smiling coldly, he pressed the red hot iron against his cheek and held it there while the boy's screams echoed round the courtyard. The boy tried to escape the burning iron, his knees scrabbling on the sandy ground as he fought Xionides' hold, his hands vainly trying to push the iron away but the man's strength was too great for him.

"String him up and strip him," Xionides commanded throwing the boy away from him.

The boy huddled on the ground his hands clasped to his cheek sobbing wildly. Nixod, grinning broadly, stepped forward and seizing him by the wrists dragged him over the to the gibbet. In an instant he had him suspended from its cross bar by his wrists, his feet hanging clear of the ground. Reaching up Nixod grabbed the boy's tunic by it's neck and, with one jerk, ripped it from his body.

Xionides strolled slowly across to where the boy hung. Deliberately he ran his hands over the boy's taughtly stretched body.

"You've had the whip before haven't you slut?" he said running a finger along one of the many faint lines of lighter skin that ribbed the lad's otherwise deeply tanned shoulders.

"Yes Master," the boy replied choking back his sobs.

"Well no matter," Xionides said dismissively, "I doubt if there are many brats about the place whose shoulders do not bare similar marks to those."

"Master, please Master why are you doing this to me. I've been a good boy Master and I've worked hard and done what I've been told."

"I'm having you whipped because I want to," Xionides replied as he gently fondled the boy's testicles almost laughing at his frantic pleading. "I don't need anymore reason than that. I can do anything I want to filth like you."

"Ayas," he continued, "come here and stand beside me."

"You two men can let the little whore go. He will do what he is told now."

"Won't you slut?"

"That's right," he continued as Ayas stumbled forward on legs that fear had robbed of their strength, "stand right beside me so that you can see the whip flay the skin from our young friend's shoulders and child, as you listen to his screams and watch the blood flow, remember it will be your turn next."

"Can I start now?" Giane demanded impatiently drawing the plaited leather lash of the whip that he held in his right hand through the fingers of his free hand.

"Yes you may. Show me how good you are with the whip and little Ayas here watch how quick and how deep cow hide can rip boy's flesh."

Gianes took a deep breath and brought the whip back high over his right shoulder, paused a fraction of a second to allow the lash to straighten and then brought it down across the brat's naked shoulders, the rich hiss of the descending lash was followed by the sharp explosive crack of leather against bare flesh. The boy screamed shrilly as the lash raked his back raising a livid welt from which beads of deep red blood began to well.

Gianes raised the whip again. The boy screamed and twisted under the lash in a grotesque dance of pain as cut followed cut. Soon the blood, that had at first appeared in single glistening red droplets, was flowing freely down the brat's shoulders, streaking his rump and forming broad rivulets down the backs of his thighs. Each time the lash struck home a sort of red haze would form as its impact raised a spray of blood. Ayas, with Xionides hand clamped on the back of his neck forcing him to watch and stand close, felt spots of moisture strike his skin. Looking down he saw his red spots of blood splattered on his chest.

As the beating progressed the boy's screams grew fainter until they were a mere whimper and the agonized contortions of his body became less extreme. At last they stopped altogether and he hung inert from his wrists his head down on his chest, only moving as the whip turned and shook his body.

"Stop a moment Gianes," Xionides commanded, "there is no point in flogging a boy if he can't feel it. Why not check if the brat is still with us."

Grinning broadly Gianes drew the heated iron from the brassier. He glanced questioningly at Xionides.

"One of the arm pits," Xionides said softly.

Instantly Gianes thrust the heated point of the bar into the brat's armpit and held it there. The boy's head went up and a scream, shriller and louder than any that had gone before, rent the air.

"Ah," Xionides said lightly, "he is still with us. You may continue but perhaps it is time you gave his rump a turn."

Gianes returned to his work with undiminished enthusiasm but something had gone wrong. Perhaps he was tiring or perhaps the interruption had broken his concentration or possibly he had lost his eye for the task in hand. The rhythm had gone. The lash began to fall erratically. The fourth cut saw the tip of the lash curl round the boy's body.

"Stop," Xionides commanded as he stepped forward to see what damage had been done.

"Well Gianes," he said a second later, "if you had done that to little Ayas you'd have relieved me of the trouble of gelding him in due course."

"Will it kill him?" Gianes asked. He seemed not at all disturbed by the thought that it might.

"I doubt it," Xionides replied, "he looks a tough little tyke to me. In two days we'll have the brat back in the stables. Hobbling a bit and very sore but we'll get a full days work out of him just the same or he'll get another taste of the lash…"

"Cut him down you men."

"And Ayas my sweet it's your turn now."

Chapter 18

Tipping the boy's head back with the handle of his whip Xionides stared down into Ayas' face enjoying his distress.

"Look Gianes," he jeered, "the poor little child is crying. He doesn't want to be whipped. I do like to see a brat cry before he's flogged it shows he knows how bad it is going to be and his tears make him more attractive too."

"Mam, Mam," Ayas sobbed, in his distress appealing to his mother as boys have done through the ages at times of extremity.

"It's no good crying for your mother slut," Xionedes said smiling cruelly, "the whore is dead, she hanged herself the ungrateful bitch. Nobody's going to help you. You're just going to hang there screaming while I flay you alive with the whip."

Ayas' sobs redoubled and the tears flowed down his face. Suddenly Xionedes bent forward and kissed him hard on the mouth.

"I do like the taste of boy's tears," Xionides remarked lifting his head, "and I am fortunate in that I have many opportunities to do so."

Then gripping Ayas under the chin with his free hand his fingers pressing into either side of the boy's face forcing his jaws apart he bent again. Ayas felt the man's tongue dart snake like into his mouth.

"What a hot little whore you are Ayas," Xionides said a few minutes later. "You're about to be whipped and still you get a hard on. What fun I'm going to have with you slut but first you have to be flogged."

Indeed Ayas, despite his terror, had been aroused by the man's caresses and his small twig like cock stood erect quivering with excitement.

Giving the boy's bare rump an appreciative slap Xionides stepped back and measuring his distance carefully swung the whip back over his right shoulder.

Ayas could only wait, dreading the agony to come, feeling the sun hot against his naked body, utterly defenceless and vulnerable. He was screaming even before the lash began its descent.

There was a rich hiss, a sharp crack and a moment of utter silence as the excruciating pain emptied the air from the boy's lungs. Then Ayas screamed shrilly.

It felt to him as though a knife had laid a deep open gash across his bare shoulders.

He heard the sibilant his of the lash as it again began its descent. Then again he was conscious of nothing except a single all consuming pain that filled his whole body as the whip tore his shoulders.

"Oh honestly Ayas you should learn to control yourself," Xionides' mocking voice seemed to come from a long way off, "it is lucky that we have fresh sand on the floor."

Time after time the lash ripped down cracked down across Ayas' naked body ripping his skin, triggering explosion after explosion of increasing pain until all the explosions had merged into one and he knew nothing but pain.

At some point Ayas must have lost consciousness. For he remembered later being suddenly coming back out of darkness, feeling pain everywhere but feeling it at its most intense in one foot. And then seeing Gianes swimming in and out of focus in front of him, seeing the glowing iron in the youth's right hand and hearing him saying triumphantly but faintly, as though he was a long way off, "there I've brought the slut back for you Xionides."

Then mercifully the blackness closed over him again.

Pain coursed through his body. Ayas shifted and moaned. A hand grasped him by the back of his neck pinning him face down on the bed of straw on which he lay.

"Lie still can't you," Phaedra's voice grumbled, "how can I dress your stripes if you keep on wriggling about you stupid brat."

Ayas began to whimper an apology but his attempt was cut short by another access of stabbing pain as the old hag returned to swabbing the open welts that ribbed his shoulders and rump.

After half an hour of acute pain and a couple of clouts across the side of his head the Phaedra waddled off.

A few moments later Ayas heard the old woman speak and a lighter younger voice replying. Turning his head he was able to make out through the gloom on the opposite side of the cell another boy huddled on the floor with Phaedra bending over him.

"It's back to work for you tomorrow and about time too," she snarled ill-naturedly. "Those that don't work don't eat. That's the old rule and a good one too."

Straightening herself she kicked the boy in the side and stomped out of the cell slamming and then bolting the heavy door shut behind her.

"You Helots do make a fuss about a little pain," the boy said after a moments silence, "but I suppose when your father, your grandfather, your great grandfather have been slaves as far back as anyone can remember it's not fair to expect you to be as brave as someone who was free born like me."

"Well," Ayas replied hotly, "you were screaming loud enough when they had you hanging from the beam and were lacing your back with the lash."

"That was the whip. That's different. I wouldn't make such a fuss about having a little thing like having my shoulders dressed."

"How do you know that. It wasn't being done to you."

"That's because I'm not going to be Xionedes' bum boy. That's why they're doing it to you so you can be a pretty little boy whore for Lord Xionedes to fuck (While it is true that by and large man/boy sex was not illegal in the ancient world generally a good deal of opprobrium and stigma was attached to those who played what was regarded as the passive roll.)… and when he's finished with you he'll cut your balls off and sell you to the Persians.

"I haven't got any choice," Ayas said on the verge of tears and then provoked beyond endurance added, "and anyway your balls are no good cos Gianes just about took them off with the whip. And you screamed when he did it too. You weren't very brave then."

After Ayas had finished speaking there was a moments absolute silence. Then without saying anything the boy rolled onto his side facing the wall. His shoulders began to shake and there was a muffled sob.

'I don't feel sorry,' Ayas said to himself. 'Why should I feel sorry. He started it. He was just as nasty to me.'

Ayas lay in the semi-darkness listening to the other boy's sobs. They went on and on as his own anger and resentment ebbed away.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually, "I shouldn't have said that – about your balls I mean."

From the further side of the room came a loud sniff and redoubled sobbing. Ayas could bear it no longer painfully he got himself up onto his knees and dragged himself across to where the other boy lay. Near to he could see the lad's shoulders and rump was ribbed with livid welts.

"I'm sorry," he said again resting a hand on the side of the boy's shoulder taking care not to touch one of the stripes, "really sorry."

"There's no need," the boy's voice was hardly more than a whimper. "It's true. My name is Damon. I was born free, the son of a free man, a citizen of Mitylene. My father was rich. We had land and slaves and horses. Then war came. Our city was besieged and in the end it fell. My father as one of the leaders was killed and my mother and all his children were sold as slaves."

"The only way, the only time, I could escape the misery …"

The boy's voice trailed away into racking sobs.

Damon manoeuvred himself painfully onto his side so that he was facing Ayas.

"I am not crying," he managed to mutter between sobs, "I don't cry ever."

Ayas could see the tears glistening in the half light as they streamed down the other boy's face.

He said nothing but wriggled up close against Damon feeling the bigger boy's skin cool and silken against his own. The two boys lay close together taking comfort from each other's bodies but taking care not to touch each other's backs still sore and burning from the lash.

Ayas knew he had to be doubly careful for it was not only Damon's shoulders and rump that had felt the lash. The whip had curled round and bitten into his crutch. It was the damage that had been done then that was causing Arian's present distress. Ayas remembered the boy's shrill scream when it happened. It must be very painful down there and he must be careful not to touch it.

So in the jumble of bare limbs and bodies Ayas did his best to stop himself from pressing too close into Damon's crutch.

But then Ayas felt something touch the side of his thigh. Something that if it was not positively hard certainly did not feel lifeless or limp. He had felt something similar many times in the past when lying with Ocytus in the darkness of the family hovel.

He began to wriggle down beside Damon.

"What are you doing?" Damon demanded, "there's no point I can't do anything. I told you," but his words somehow lacked conviction and there was a hint of hope in his voice.

Ayas' lips brushed the other boy's chest, his tongue briefly explored Damon's belly button.

Then he was down between the other boys legs, his face only inches from his body, close enough, despite the dim light, to be able to see that his testicles were deformed , one of his balls grotesquely swollen and discoloured a deep purple ribbed with darkest red dwarfing, the other quite normal in size and appearance. The tip of the lash curling round Damon's body must have caught the one on its side but not touched the other.

Ayas's breath stirred the few sparse hairs that sprouted at the junction of the boy's legs. As he watched Damon's cock, which was still a boy's although a good deal larger than his own, stirred and began to stiffen. Bending his head Ayas kissed the tip of the boy's penis. Damon gasped and his prick sprang erect. Ayas ran his tongue along the underside of the now rigid tube. He was himself deeply excited. He could feel the pounding of the boy's blood and his nostrils were filled with the animal smell of his unwashed body. Dampening his lips with his tongue he took the full length of Damon's cock into his mouth. Gently at first he began to suck on the boy's prick using tongue and lips to tease and excite. He increased the tempo with which he moved his lips up and down the throbbing shaft. Then Damon responded in his turn, pumping Ayas' mouth with his cock with ever more urgent thrusts of his hips.

Damon was young, with the energy and vigour of the young. It was not long before jets of metallic tasting boy juice were filling Ayas' mouth and throat.

Ayas wiped his lips with the back of his hand and bent again to his task this time nuzzling Damon's balls. The youth moaned and shifted and Ayas, seizing his opportunity, got his tongue up behind his testicles, teasing that most sensitive and tender area, the perineum. Reacting to this stimulation Damon's cock sprang erect again and it was not long before Ayas mouth was once again filed with cum.

Five times Ayas brought the older boy to an orgasm before Damon, exhausted called a halt.

"I can't do it again Ayas," he said faintly, panting with exhaustion.

"Well," Ayas replied with a broad grin on his face as he lifted his head from his companion's crutch, "it seems Xionides was wrong about you being gelded."

"Yes," Damos said and then a moment later, "I wonder if he'll sell me as eunuch to guard some Persian Lord's harem. I'd have some fun then with the pick of the most beautiful girls and boys…. Mind you you're not bad Ayas but I suppose you've had plenty of practice – a pretty Helot boy like you ….Where are you going?"

"I'd better get back to my place," Ayas said, "we'll be in trouble if they find us together."

He was hurt by the contempt and the assumption of superiority implicit in Damon's words. He had acted out of kindness and the thought that they could be friends. He had thought there was not much difference between the two of them – after all they were both only slaves. It was clear though Damon saw things differently and no doubt he was right. There was a great difference between a boy that was born free and grew up as the son of a rich citizen even though chance had made him a slave and a boy like himself bred a slave, the son of a slave, who had never known anything else than slavery.

"Don't see why they should be," Damon replied cheerfully, "I'm a eunuch what harm can I do?"

He had no idea he had upset Ayas. So far as he was concerned he had simply stated a fact. Of course a pretty slave boy would learn early how to please his master and probably his master's friends as well. What were the sluts for anyway?

Ayas was woken by the sounds of the bolts on the door being shot back. He jerked awake to see Nixod entering the cell followed by a skinny grubby faced boy in a ragged tunic smudged with dirt. Nixod was carrying in one hand a wooden bowl from which steam rose, in the other he held a stout wooden stick. The boy was carrying a leather bucket. He seemed to find the weight of this a bit too much for he was holding it's handle in both hands so that the rim bumped against his bare shins as he walked.

"Put the bucket down in the centre of the cell," Nixod ordered roughly.

"Come on you miserable little turd," he rapped as the brat stumbled forward cracking his staff down across his narrow shoulders, "…don't take all day."

"Come here and take the bowl and put it down beside it."

"Don't put your thumb in it and hope to lick it clean," this time the order was accompanied by heavy cut across the boy's skinny rump, "the foods not for you, you thieving bastard."

Damos seeing the steaming bowl lying on the floor in the centre of the room and being, like every other healthy fifteen year old boy, hungry, made a dart towards it. Nixod waited until he was on his knees about to help himself before driving him back with a savage back handed blow across his forearms.

The man stood over the bowl gently swinging his stave. The two naked boys crouched on the floor cowering away from him their eyes longingly fixed on the steaming contents.

"You, bitch boy," Nixod said rapping Ayas on the top of his head with his staff, "get on with it."

Ayas hesitated and got another sharp tap on his skull.

"Eat you stupid slut… I've got other things to do… Get back," another back handed blow with the stave caught Damos, who did not want to miss out on any food that was going, across the chest knocking him back away from the food.

Ayas squatted over the bowl shovelling handfuls of food into his mouth. It was the same coarse barley porridge that had been his staple diet before but it was sweetened with honey and had pulses mixed into it. He began to think that being a slave in the household of a rich Spartan lord might have its compensations.

The bowl was two thirds empty and Ayas his hunger more or less sated was beginning to flag when Nixod stepped back from the bowl.

"Come on filth," he ordered aiming a kick at the starveling boy slave who accompanied him, "we can leave them to it now."

The boy scuttled after him out of the cell. The door slammed behind Nixod and Ayas could hear the bolts being shot home.

Damos, seeing his chance, was in an instant down beside the bowl shouldering Ayas to one side in his eagerness to fill his belly. Ayas, who was perhaps for the first time in his young life more or less full, hunkered back on his heels, enjoying the unusual sensation, watching the other boy eat. It was only when Damos was trying to clear the last fragment of porridge from the bowl with his fingers that he spoke.

"I'm sorry I ate so much of it Damos," he said tentatively, "before you had a chance."

"You didn't have any choice," Damos replied cheerfully licking his finger tips clean. "That bastard Nixod wouldn't have let me get at the bowl till you'd had the better part of what was there. You're being fattened ready for Xionedes to fuck. I'm lucky to be with you. They wouldn't give me half as much to eat as I got this time and there wouldn't have been honey and other fancy stuff in it."

"And I'm lucky in another way," he continued after a moments silence, "I can enjoy Xionedes boy whore before he does so himself. Come on Ayas get busy with your tongue and lips. I'll probably be out of here tomorrow lets make the most of things while we have the chance."

"Hadn't we better wait till they come back for the bowl. We don't want them to catch us at it."

"They won't come back till tomorrow to collect it, why should the bother before then and if they do come back Nixod will just send that boy of his in here to collect it Nixod is too lazy to come in himself and the boy won't tell. He can't they've torn out his tongue."

"Now come on," he said reaching out and grabbing Ayas by the arm.

"Who is that boy?" Ayas asked, "and why did they tear his tongue out" as he allowed Damos to lead him over to the heap of straw that served as his bed.

"They call him Mus (ancient Greek for rat) and he does all the boy's work down here in the cells and as for why they tore his tongue out, they bring people here for questioning and they don't want him telling what goes on and what they learnt. He's seen some things and heard some things that one but he won't be telling no one."

"And now stop talking and get on with it," and pushing Ayas to his knees Damos pulled his face into his crutch.

Chapter 19

"What are you doing?" Damos murmured sleepily as Ayas attempted to slide out from underneath him.

"I better get back to my side of the cell," Ayas replied, "It's getting light. Nixod or Phaedra could be here any time now."

"Not for ages," Damos said suddenly fully awake, grabbing Ayas by the arm to stop him getting away. "They'll have their breakfasts first and they won't hurry themselves. Slaves never do unless someone's after them with a whip."

"You're a slave too now," Ayas reminded him nettled by the other boy's constant assumption of superiority.

"That's how I know," Damos replied cheerfully, "and now get over on your belly and push your bum up in the air."

"Come on," Damos said urgently cuffing Ayas just hard enough on the back head to remind him who was boss, "you should be grateful for the chance to get some practice in before Xionedes uses you."

A second later Ayas squealed in pain.

"Whatever's the matter?" Damos demanded thrusting down hard, "you're not expecting me to believe me this is the first time you've had cock up your bottom – a pretty little Helot whore like you."

"No it isn't," Ayas admitted, remembering the many nights spent in a corner of the family hovel satisfying Ocytus' lust, "but please put some spit on your cock it will slide in more easily then."

"That was good," Damos exclaimed a few minutes later, "that'll give me something to remember when I'm back in the stables. – No stay where you are," he added as Ayas tried again to wriggle from under him, "I'll want to do it again soon."

"Please Damos let me go now," Ayas pleaded urgently, "some one is bound to be along soon and if we're caught together we'll get another whipping and they would cut your balls off then for certain – after being caught fucking Lord Xionides special boy."

Damos muttered to himself but lifted himself to allow Ayas to escape from under him. "Anyway," Ayas asked as he wriggled free, "what do you do in the stables. Do you ride the horses?"

"No, I'm too big for that. We keep little runts your age to ride them. I look after Vulcan and I bet whoever they've got looking after him at the moment will be glad to see me back. Good as gold he is but he likes things done his way and he'll play up awful if they're not."

"Hasn't he killed two boys already," Ayas asked remembering the big black horse he had seen being taken out for exercise while Phaedra was washing him ready to be taken to Xionides and what the old hag had told him about the animal. "He must be really vicious."

"No he isn't," Damos replied sharply, "he's as good as gold if he's handled right. You just got to be gentle with him and not do anything sudden near him specially behind him on his left."

"He doesn't sound very good to me if he's killed two boys already," Ayas remarked.

"That's because they didn't behave sensible," Damos replied jumping to Vulcan's defence. "He's got a blind patch in his left eye and if you come at him suddenly from that side he'll lash out at you with his hooves. You'd do the same if somebody came charging at you from nowhere. Well not you of course. You just drop to your knees an ask not to be hurt, bein a Helot slut, but anyone else with a bit of spirit in them would."

Ayas made no reply to this sally. He simply crept over to his side of the cell and sat down on the heap of straw there drawing his knees up to his chin sat there silently his eyes smarting with tears.

He supposed Damos was speaking no more than the truth. He was a poor spirited thing. He had dreamed of fighting with his father to free themselves from the Spartan yoke but that had ended in disaster with his father killed by a Spartan spear and his mother dead by her own hand. That ended the dream. Weak and small as he was he was powerless to resist. Now there was nothing left for him but submission. For him and his people there was no alternative.

Damos heard a muffled sob coming from the opposite side of the cell. Through the gloom he could see Ayas' naked figure, huddled on his bed of straw, his head cradled on his knees. He was not really a bad hearted boy. He had not really meant to hurt Ayas. He had just been angry with him for criticising Vulcan who was about the only friend he had. Now he felt sorry and a little guilty. Only a little bit guilty for after all he had only spoken the truth and how was how to know that the slut would take it so hard. After all he was only a Helot. The sobbing continued and Damos's unease grew. Finally he could bear it no longer.

"I'm sorry Ayas," he said though perhaps with hint of impatience in his voice for it was really stupid for the boy to take the thing so to heart especially when what he said was no more than the truth.

The sobbing continued unabated and even grew louder.

"I'm really sorry Ayas," he said. This time making an effort to keep any suggestion of impatience out of the tone of his voice.

Ayas sniffed loudly tried to control himself and failed. Sobs racked his body.

"I didn't mean it," Damos said desperately. He was as honest as any other boy but like any other boy he would tell a lie if it was necessary and this clearly had become an occasion when it was necessary.

"It doesn't matter," Ayas whimpered. "It was true," and burst out sobbing again.

Damos pushed himself to his feet and crossed the cell to where Ayas sat huddled. Seating himself beside the smaller boy he put an arm round the child's narrow shoulders and hugged him.

"Please stop crying Ayas," he said, "please."

Ayas moved closer pressing himself against him resting his head on his shoulder. Damos felt the boy's cheeks damp with tears against his chest. Bending his head he kissed Ayas on the forehead sliding his free hand up the inside of the other boy's thigh. His thumb found and toyed with Ayas's prick that was stiff and quivering with eagerness. Ayas tilted his head back and Damos bent to kiss him on his parted lips.

There was a crash as the bolt was drawn back, the door swung open and Nixod's bulky form was silhouetted against the light streaming through the open doorway. Damos started to his feet but he was too slow. Nixod saw him and saw too that the naked boy was clearly in a state of high excitement.

"You randy little turd," the man shouted knocking Damos to the ground with a savage blow of his cudgel to the boy's head.

"Can't even keep your dirty paws off the Master's own boy whore. Well this time they'll have your balls off for sure and nail you to a cross too as a warning to others."

Every other word was punctuated with a heavy kick which lifted the boy bodily from the floor where he huddled.

Ayas jumped to his feet. There was a strange roaring in his head. The sight of Nixod boot crashing time and again into Damos's body seemed to have released some inner spring in his mind. Thought for himself, fear, deserted him. He was somehow standing outside his body. It was as if for a brief moment another being had taken over. Taking Nixod by surprise he dodged past him, brushing aside the frail figure of Mus who hovered in the door way a wooden bowl of porridge in his hands, out into the courtyard.

"Where do you think you are going?" Nixod shouted starting after him. "You can't get away there's no where to run to."

Ayas dodged to one side and throwing his head back started to scream as loudly as he could.

"Rape… rape… rape."

His shrill young voice rang out clearly in the yard rising over the chatter of the household slaves as they went about their work. Heads began to turn. The bustle of the yard was momentarily stilled.

Startled Nixod stopped short a yard or two away from where Ayas stood.

"Listen to me Nixod," Ayas said speaking low but clear so that the man alone could her him, "you touch Damos once more and I'll start screaming again and I'll say you tried to rape me. And Damos will back me up and that Mus will be no help to you. He can't even speak with his tongue ripped out."

"Nobody'll believe you…," Nixod protested but the mere fact that he did so betrayed he had doubts.

"They mayn't believe me," Ayas replied, "but they won't be sure and that will be enough to finish you. Of course if you want to risk loosing your balls and being nailed up to die…" And he threw back his head and prepared to scream again.

"I'll get you for this," Nixod growled angrily tacitly admitting temporary defeat..

"Damos," Ayas called, "can you stand up?"

"Yes just about," the other boy replied hauling himself painfully to his feet.

"Then get away from here. Go back to the stables and Vulcan."

There was an urgency and an edge of command to his voice that had never been there before.

Damos came out of the cell bent almost double his hands clasped to his stomach. He was obviously feeling Nixod's kicks.

"Thanks, he muttered as he passed Ayas and then added, "I was wrong about you."

Saying nothing in reply Ayas walked quietly back into the cell and seated himself on the bundle of straw that formed his bed. He knew that Nixod was right when he said that there was nowhere for him to run to. Anyway the surge of energy that had momentarily filled him was now rapidly seeping away. He had saved Damos and momentarily at least got the better of Nixod but his own position was unchanged. He was fated to be Xionedes boy whore and after the man had tired of him to be gelded and sold to serve in some rich Persian's harem.

And in addition he had made an enemy. Nixod he had no doubt would not forget what he had done and would try to pay him back for it.

Ayas hunkered down despondently in the straw. There was a strange sound, part whinny, part groan and looking up he saw the slave boy Mus standing just inside the still open cell door holding the wooden bowl. Mus shuffled towards Ayas and bending down placed the bowl on the ground in front of him.

Once again the bowl was full of barley porridge mixed with pulses and sweetened with honey. Ayas suddenly hungry began to wolf the food down.

He became conscious that he was being watched. Looking up he saw Mus squatting on the ground a few feet away from him, his eyes fastened hungrily on the bowl of food. Ayas lifted a hand full of porridge to his mouth whether boy's eyes followed his every move. The boy's arms were bare and his brief and ragged tunic had rucked thin thighs. His elbows and knees bulged out from his stick like limbs. Ayas swallowed and reached out once more to the bowl. He could feel the boy watching him. He looked into the boy's face and saw tears trickling down his gaunt cheeks.

Ayas hesitated. He was hungry but he wasn't that hungry. He traced a line with the tip of his index finger across the surface of the stiffly glutinous porridge carefully dividing it into two equal portions. He looked at the boy and beckoned. Mus hesitated uncertainly. Ayas smiled reassuringly and beckoned again. Mus moved forward cautiously as if expecting some sort of trick. Then his hand was in the bowl his nervousness forgotten greedily shovelling food into his mouth but glancing every now and again about him like a wild animal fearful of attack..

Mus was much hungrier than Ayas and ate much faster but he was careful not to take more than his share of the food. Once he had eaten that he settled back on his heels noisily sucking the last fragments of food from his fingers while Ayas cleared the bowl.

When Ayas had finished Mus took the bowl and after wiping carefully round the inside of it with the tips of his fingers before sucking them clean, sidled out of the cell.

Ayas sat on the straw looking at the light streaming through the open door. He knew Nixod had been right when he said there was nowhere for him to run to. He ought just to stay where he was and wait. If he tried to escape he would inevitably be caught, brought back and savagely punished.

Time dragged by and nothing happened. Through the open door came the sounds of people moving about outside in the yard, voices, the rumble of cart wheels, the lowing of a cow, the clatter of horses hooves.

He wondered how Damos was getting on and if he would ever see the other boy again.

Waiting would be easier if he slept but he was not the slightest bit tired. What he was, was bored and lonely.

There could be nothing wong surely in his just going out into the yard to see what was going on there and perhaps to see Damos as well. He would stay near to the cell door and dodge back inside if he saw anyone coming. Nobody could object to that and anyway, nobody would know.

Cautiously he slipped through the open door and mounted the short flight of steps to take him up to ground level. He was disappointed he could see no sign of Damos although the yard was full of movement and excitement. It was clear from the number and variety of people migerling in the court yard of his house that Xionedes was an important man in the Spartan state. The occasional citizen either individually or in groups of two or three hurried self importantly across the yard brushing aside lesser beings as they passed. Slaves trudged, trotted or loitered according to the urgency of their work and the fear in which they held their overseers. Two Spartan boys hardly older than himself wrestled together, the sun glistening on their naked bodies, encouraged by the cries of half a dozen spectators young and old who had gathered to watch the fun. A horse, not Vulcan though, was being led slowly up and down outside the stables by a boy groom. An oxen was being driven towards the further corner of the yard where a double handed axe stood leaning against a barn wall. A good dozen chickens strutted and scuttled about pecking at the gravel.

Ayas squatted down in the sun at the top of the steps. It was a good deal more interesting here, than down in the cell, he told himself, and he would see if anybody was coming and get back down the steps long before they spotted him.

The oxen sensing his likely fate had broken looose of its handlers and was charging across the yard in blind panic, the chickens, squawking in terror scattering in front of it. The two slaves in charge of the beast pursued it swearing noisily. Other people joined the pursuit shouting and laughing. Ayas in his excitement jumped to his feet drawn further forward into the yard by the excitement of the moment.

"What are you doing out here you dirty little turd?" demanded Phaedra.

The hag had crept up on him unnoticed while his attention was focused on the unfolding drama before him.

"Oh Mother," Ayas stammered assuming an ingratiating smile and beginning to sidle back towards the head of the steps leading down to the cell, "I just came out into the yard to see what was happening. I didn't think there was any harm in it Mother if I stayed near where I could be found."

"And the next thing would be you're out of the yard gate trying to cheat Lord Xionedes of his rights. All you Helot brats are the same dishonest thieving little brutes."

"Please Mother I wasn't going to run away…," Ayas had now reached the top of the steps and was beginning to back down them towards the open door of the cell.

"Lying little toad," Phaedra stormed spit flying from her mouth in her rage.

She advanced on the boy driving him down the steps in front of her.

"You think you can get away with anything because Lord Xionedes fancies you and your worthless hide must be given a chance to heal so that he can fuck that tight little rump of yours. Well you'll find I can still make you squeal."

A sharp push on the chest sent Ayas staggering back into the cell. The door slammed shut. Standing in the gloom Ayas heard the bolts shot home and the receding sound of Phaedra's footsteps as she stomped off muttering bad temperedly to herself.

Ayas crept back to the heap of straw and settled himself there waiting apprehensively to see what fate and Phaedra had in store for him.

He did not have to wait long. There was a sound of heavy footsteps approaching, a mutter of voices and the door was thrown open. Nixod and another man, equaly burly and brutish, whom Ayas had not previously seen stood on the threshhold of the cell. Nixod's hands were free but his companon was holding a heavy staff in one hand and a length of cord in the other. Behind the two men stood Phaedra holding a short wooden batton.

Ayas decided to try to make a break for it. Nothing would be lost by trying he told himself and after all last time he had got away with it. Getting his feet under him he suddenly launched himself head down at the open doorway.

This time however Nixod was ready for him. He found himself grasped by strong rough hands and thrown bodily to the floor. Ayas found himself held by his ankles lying on his back on the floor. He kicked desperately but could not break the men's hold. They bound his ankles to the staff and then stood holding it at waist hight so that his shoulders rested on the ground and his legs and feet were up in the air.

Twisting his head Ayas looked up at Phaedra as she advanced into the cell gently beating the palm of her left hand with the baton. It appeared from the smiles on their faces that the woman and the two men were looking forward to what was to come next.

Chapter 20

"Hold tight now," Phaedra ordered the two men holding the stave to which Ayas' ankles were tied, "you know how the little sods throw themselves about once I start working on their feet."

"Just make the bastard suffer Mother," Nixod said with a harsh chuckle, "we'll hold him tight for you."

"I will," the hag promised with a cruel laugh and saying this she rapped the baton down across the soul of Ayas' feet.

The boy jerked convulsively as the pain flowed through his body. Phaedra plied the baton steadily, delivering a series of shot sharp blows onto the base of the boy's upturned feet. To Ayas the pain seemed to increase with intensity with each crack of the baton. The walls of the cell and the leering faces of the hag and the two men seemed to swim in and out of focus. Ayas screamed and howled, throwing himself about, pleading for mercy while the men, laughing fought to hold the stave steady. It seemed impossible to him that he could take any more or that the pain could get any greater but still the beating continued, each blow from the baton generating fresh and more intense waves of agony.

"I thought from the noise you were killing a pig."

It was Xionedes. He was standing just inside the cell doorway regarding the scene inside with an air of detached amusement. With him, as ever was, his young friend Gianes.

"We were just giving the boy a beating for getting out of the cell Lord and trying to run away," Phaedra said. "We were giving him it on his feet so as not to cut him up any more because we knew you fancied him and wouldn't want him damaged more than he already has been."

"Quite right, quite right," Xionedes said heartily advancing further into the cell.

"Well I don't think you'll be running anywhere for a time Ayas sweet," he continued bending to examine the souls of the boy's feet.

"Please Lord," Ayas whimpered, "I wasn't trying to run away Lord. The door was open and I just went up to the yard to see what was going on out there. I didn't mean any harm Lord."

"But Ayas you silly boy you were put in the cell and you should have stayed there till you were taken out. Phaedra was quite right to beat you. The only question is whether you have been beaten enough. What do you think Ayas should I tell Phaedra to continue basting the souls of your feet with her cruel wooden truncheon."

"Please no Lord… please… I promise not to do it again Lord," Ayas blubbered desperately, though what exactly it was he was promising he wouldn't do again he didn't know. In truth he was ready to say anything and to promise anything if only it would persuade the man not to start hitting him on the soles of his feet.

"Look Gianes," Xionedes said apparently loosing interest in further tormenting Ayas and turning his attention to the beautiful Spartan youth who stood close beside him, "don't you think boy's feet are very attractive, just like an adult's feet in some ways and yet being smaller so much more delicate and intricate. You can see it even with this Helot brat's feet, grubby though they are and swollen and bruised from the beating they have received."

As he spoke Xionedes gripped Ayas left foot in the palm of his right hand and ran his thumb nail along its base from its heel towards the boy's toes.

"And so sensitive too," as he spoke he screwed his thumbnail into Ayas's foot.

Ayas screamed shrilly and beat his hands on the ground as the wave of pain shot through and swamped his body.

"Gianes there in the middle of the foot just below the toes. That's the spot. Of course for it really to hurt you need have had some preparatory work done. Just like Phaedra has done on this occasion. You try on his left foot."

"Yes just there and now drive your thumb down really hard…"

The rest of Xionedes remarks were drowned by Ayas's renewed screaming as Gianes followed his lover's instructions.

"What's going on?" enquired a light young voice.

The two Spartan boys who had been wrestling together attracted by Ayas' screams had entered the cell. Naked, still sweating and excited from their contest they crowded forward eager to see what was going on.

"Hello boys," Xionedes said laughing indulgently. "We're just teaching a Helot brat the importance of obedience. Come and have a look."

"He's peed himself," one of the boy's said in a tone of amused contempt. "is it respectful Sir for a Helot brat to pee in front of his Spartan lord?"

"I doubt if the slut could help it," Xionedes replied, "but I tell you what boys. If it bothers you why don't you show the little brute in what respect you hold filth like him?"

"Respect, we don't respect Helots, they're scum," one of the boys replied indignantly.

"Don't be stupid Menelaus," the other interjected hastily, "Xionedes knows that… Come on this is what I think of Helots."

With these words the boy stepped forward and directed a jet of urine straight into Ayas' face. The second boy giggling happily quickly joined him. Ayas lay helpless on his back on the cell floor his ankles firmly secured to the staff held at waist height by the two men. He could only roll his head to one side in a vain attempt to escape the twin jets of warm pungent boy's pee that cascaded down his chest and face. Above him he could hear the manic cackling of Phaedra and the laughter of the men as they enjoyed the comedy of his humiliation.

"Excellent, excellent," Xionedes said his voice almost choked by laughter when the two boys had finally emptied their bladders. "Now I'll show you something else really funny. Phaedra free Ayas' ankles. I think it's time he was allowed to stand on his on his feet again."

Phaedra hurried to obey Xionedes, her fingers fumbling at the knots in the cord that bound Ayas' ankles to the staff.

"Good," Xionedes said when the boy's legs were free, "now Ayas up on your feet child. Quick now, you know what happens to disobedient little Helot brats don't you."

He reinforced this order with a sharp kick. Ayas began to get up and then squealed in pain as his bruised and tortured feet took the weight of his body. It felt as though he was standing on a sheet of red hot metal. He began a wild frantic pain driven jig from one foot to another. Then he dropped to his hands and knees, panting and sobbing, as the laughter of the onlookers echoed round him.

"Now Ayas," Xionedes said chuckling, "I said you were to stand up. What are you doing kneeling on the floor you silly boy?"

"Oh please Lord don't make me… my feet are so sore…"

"Come on Ayas. You've got to learn to do as your told. Look I'll help you."

Bending down Xionedes reached under the boy's body and took a grip of his testicles. Keeping a tight hold of them he forced Ayas back onto his feet.

"Please Lord… please," Ayas whimpered as he once again danced from foot to foot in a desperate attempt to lessen the agony.

Maintaining his vice like hold of the boy's balls Xionedes forced him to stay upright while he, and the people standing around roared with laughter at the naked brat's grotesque prancing. It was not until Xionedes, overcome at last with laughter, released his grasp that Ayas' torment was over and he was allowed to huddle once again on the floor at his master's feet.

This reprieve though was only temporary.

"Well Ayas sweet," Xionedes said controlling himself with difficulty, "I don't think you'll be wandering off anywhere for a time will you?"

"No Lord… Please don't beat me any more Lord…" Ayas whimpered.

"That's a good boy so now as a treat I'm going to allow you out. Get along boy if you can't walk you can crawl. Up the stairs now," Xionedes urged kicking Ayas hard up the bottom to send him on his way.

Urged on by further heavy kicks from Xionedes Ayas crawled up the steps and out in to the yard coming to rest on his hands and knees beside the stone water trough.

"Nixod," Xionedes ordered unbuckling his belt and pulling his tunic off over his head, "Chuck some water over the slut I want him cleaned up a bit."

Ayas gasped with shock as two buckets full of cold water were tipped over him.

"That's good enough," Xionedes said dropping his tunic carelessly on the ground.

Looking up at the naked man towering over him Ayas wondered if he was going to rape him there and then. There was he knew nothing to stop him doing so if he wanted to. And it seemed to the boy that Xionedes very probably did want to for he was very obviously in a state of advanced sexual excitement. Ayas knelt his eyes drawn in fearful anticipation to the man's erect member jutting imperiously from the forest of coarse black hair that covered his crutch and formed a wiry pelt over his stomach and chest. It was not the man's hair that held his gaze but his massive penis, swollen and quivering with eagerness, curved like a scimitar. It was much larger than Ocytus' and Ayas remembered vividly how much that had hurt him. He shivered in terror and his eyes filled with tears.

"Tithones," Xionedes commanded seating himself on the side of the stone trough, "bring me the knife."

The pretty young slave boy hurried forward holding a metal tray.

Bending forward Xionedes grasped Ayas under the arms and lifted him onto his lap. Ayas felt the man's iron hard cock pressing up against his bottom. Xionedes took a small knife from the proffered tray and tested the keenness of its blade on his thumb.

"The next time I'll be using this Tithones," Xionedes remarked pleasantly, "it will probably be to geld you."

Tithones looked distinctly sick and Ayas whimpered in terror. He had, had no reason to expect this, not yet at least. True Xionedes had said that that would be his ultimate fate – but some time far in the future. The thought of having his balls cut off was even more terrifying than the prospect of being penetrated by Xionedes. But there was no possibility of escape. Xionedes held him firmly on his lap with an arm round his stomach and even if he did manage to get away from the man he could do nothing. His feet were so bruised and sore he could hardly stand on them let alone run.

Gripped by terror, desperate to save his balls, Ayas turned to the last refuge of the weak and helpless, the skills of the whore. Pressing his bare bottom as tight as he could into Xionede's crutch he wriggled it provocatively against the man's already iron hard cock hoping, by further arousing his master's lust, to win at least a reprieve for his own balls. The dream of freedom had long since been banished from his mind by fear and pain. He had lost both pride and hope all that remained were the instincts of a slut.

"Master," he whimpered, "I'll give you a good time Master. Try me Master… please try me. Just let me keep my balls."

"Don't worry Ayas sweet I'm not going to geld you just yet," Xionedes said chuckling. "Not till you've got those sweet young lips of yours round my cock and I've enjoyed that tight little bottom of yours. I like to have something to get hold of when I'm fucking a boy. We're just going to trim the flesh round the tip of your prick child."

"Gianes," he continued offering the knife to the young Spartan lad, "you've seen me do this job often enough. Would you like try your hand at it."

Anyone could see from the grin on Gianes face as he took the knife that he was delighted to have the chance to use it.

"You had better take your tunic off," Xionedes remarked, "there'll be a bit of blood about and you don't want it dirtying your clothes. Now hold on while I get hold of Ayas' wrists. Otherwise he'll be off as soon as he feels the knife."

Crossing his arms in front of Ayas Xionedes grasped each of the boy's wrists in one of his own hands and held him tight against himself .

"Now you know what to do Gianes," he instructed, "take that wooden tube off the tray. Slip it down over Ayas' prick, roll his foreskin back over it and then cut round as close as you can to the stem. The tighter you cut the better the job.

Naked it was very clear that Gianes was in a state of high excitement. Kneeling he pushed Ayas' legs apart and slid the wooden tube over his cock.

Ayas could feel the youth's breath brush against his testicles. He watched horrified as the keen metal blade sliced into his flesh. He saw the blood well from the open cut and he screamed.

"Put some ash on it to stem the bleeding Phaedra and stop that stupid howling boy, the job's done." Xionedes snapped a few seconds later.

Transferring his grip on Ayas' wrists to one hand he rolled the boy's small prick between the finger and thumb of his free hand.

"Not a bad jib," he remarked to Gianes who flushed with pleasure at the praise.

"Now get back to your kennel brat," he added standing up and tipping Ayas to the ground on his hands knees.

"See the cell door is locked this time," Xionedes ordered, "and don't beat the slut anymore for the moment. I don't want him crippled."

Slipping an arm over Gianes shoulders he strolled off. Tithanes gathering up his master's and his youthful friend's tunics trotted after them, no doubt ready to assist, in what ever way they might require, in satisfying his betters' lusts which had clearly been greatly excited.

Back in the cell Ayas settled down on his straw bed, sitting, his knees spread wide apart. Eventually he dozed uneasily the bighting soreness in his groin rendering proper sleep impossible. In time the pain lessened and then disappeared. Over the days that followed the many bruises and cuts on his body faded and healed. His rations were so generous that despite sharing them with the ever famished Mus he began to fill out and his skin took on a healthy gloss.

He knew that everyday that passed drew him nearer to the moment when he would be judged to have sufficiently recovered his to be ready for Xionedes to enjoy. His waking moments were haunted by memories of the naked man standing over him and of his cock, which large enough in reality, had come in the imagination of the boy to assume truly monstrous proportions.

The days passed and he waited the brief show of spirit that had blazed into life to safe Damos from Nixod's brutality apparently utterly extinguished.

Every morning Phaedra would come to the cell sponge him down and check how his wounds were healing. At first she did that down in the cell but once he was able to walk again she would lead him out into the yard and do it there. Ayas would stand quietly by the stone trough as she did so glancing round surreptitiously to see if he could catch sight of Damos. Twice he did and Damos seeing him briefly waved before continuing with his work. It was not much but it did make Ayas feel that what with Mus and Damos he was not totally without friends.

Then one morning when Ayas was lead out of his cell he saw Phaedra had placed eady on the top of stone side of the trough a pot of oil and a comb and he knew that the moment he had so long feared had arrived.

Chapter 21

They left the mean domestic quarters behind and entered an area of long marble floored corridors and colonnaded squares. Eventually they reached a courtyard, where, under a vine covered pergola, Xionedes and Gianes lolled on couches with Tithones kneeling naked beside them.

As Phaedra led Ayas towards them the two Spartans, the man and his handsome young friend, turned their heads and fixed their eyes on the slave boy. Under their cold gaze, Ayas, already terrified at the prospect of what lay before him, felt panic tighten its grip upon him. He had difficulty in breathing, his legs felt weak and his limbs seemed to lack coordination. He stumbled forward urged on by Phaedra and when she stopped, a few yards short of where Xionedes and Gianes lounged, he fell unprompted to his knees.

"So Gianes," Xionedes said turning back to face his young friend and resuming their conversation, "you think a just man is a man who treats people properly?"

It was clear that Xionedes took his educational responsibilities towards his young protégé seriously.

"Yes indeed."

"But you would not treat Agesilius [The Europontid King of Sparta at the time of this story] in the same way as a slave such as for instance Ayas?"

"No indeed of course not."

"You would treat Agesilius with respect because he is a king."

"Yes of course."

"But you would not treat Ayas with respect?"

"No of course not he is a slave. He exists to serve us."

"So what is proper for one person is not proper for another?"

"That would seem to follow."

"It must do Gianes and it must also follow that justice does not means treating everybody in the same way but treating them in accordance to their nature. You respect Agesilius because he has the nature of a king and use Ayas because he has the nature of a slave."

"Yes that is correct."

"And Sophocles tells us that a just man is a happy man so a happy man respects and obeys the king and uses his slaves as living tools to serve him or to give him pleasure."

"Yes."

"Good well perhaps we'd better leave these theoretical discussions and get on with some practical matters."

"Ayas, child, stand up and let me have look at you."

Clumsily Ayas dragged himself to his feet and stood in front of his master on unsteady legs.

"Don't be shy Ayas. Don't try to cover yourself now. Put your hands on top of your head so we can all get a good look at you."

"Isn't he sweet Gianes. A lovely little boy whore."

"You did a good job cutting him Gianes," he continued reaching taking hold of Ayas's prick and rolling it between his finger and thumb. "You cut it really close and it's healed well too."

"Now Ayas turn round. Keep your hands clasped on the top of your head boy."

"Now stop… Look at his bottom Gianes, firm and nicely rounded and those dimples on either side. Mind you there's more to a good boy whore than mere prettiness."

"He needs to be skilled in love making?" Gianes suggested.

"Yes but that like any other skill can be taught. More important than that he needs to want to please and to give pleasure. He needs, in other words, to be motivated and very fortunately I have a way of motivating young Ayas immediately to hand."

"Tithones," Xionedes continued, "how long have you been with me three months, four months?"

"Four months Master," the boy replied fighting back his tears, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

"And now I have grown bored with you. Bring me the knife and the cord boy."

Tithones, now openly sobbing, collected a small horn handled knife and a short length of thin cord from a nearby table. Dropping to his knees he offered them to his master. Ayas saw it was the same knife that Xionedes had used to cut off his foreskin.

"Ayas," Xionedes said, "bring me the bowl from that table."

Obediently Ayas fetched a small brass bowl from the table and kneeling beside Tithones offered it to his owner.

"No Ayas," Xionedes said raising his voice to be heard over Tithones' sobbing, "you keep that. You see Tithones has ceased to entertain me so I am going to cut his balls off and, if he survives, sell him to some rich Persian who has a taste for eunuchs."

"Tithones stop making so much noise. Of course it's going to hurt but you have quite a good chance of living. I've got much better at this since I first began. The first few boys all died but you learn as you go along. I think you probably have a better than one in three chance of living."

"And you Ayas will take Tithones place as my boy whore. I wonder whether you will manage to keep your balls longer than Tithones has. It's up to you. As soon as I get bored with you I'll geld you. So I am sure you will try very, very hard to please me."

"Gianes if you could get Tithones to his feet. I don't think the silly little slut is capable of standing up for the moment. Get your arms under his and lock your hands behind his neck."

The Spartan youth stood up and slipping off his tunic advanced on where the slave boy huddled, sobbing loudly; his cock standing erect, its tip wobbling as he moved, evidencing his extreme excitement. Hauling the slave boy to his feet he bent backwards so that the brat's feet were lifted clean off the floor.

Xionedes taking the cord looped it round the base of Gianes scrotum and tied it tight. A thin hopeless howl came from the boy while tears streamed down his face.

Clicking his fingers Xionedes pointed to the ground in front of Gianes indicating wordlessly to Ayas that he was to kneel there. Ayas took up position holding the small bowl a few inches below the other boy's balls that were standing proud from hiscrutch, forced out by the cord looped tightly around their base.

Ayas did not need to be told what to do. What was going to happen next was all too clear. He swallowed desperately. The thought of what was going to be done to the boy and the knowledge that that same thing would be done to him also sooner or later terrified him. He had difficulty in breathing and waves of nausea threatened to engulf him.

Xionedes reached forward and grasped Tithones balls with his left hand. The knife glinted in the sun light a few inches in front of Ayas' face. He saw the edge of the blade bite into the slave boy's flesh. Blood welled from the cut. He closed his eyes as Tithones' shrill screams rang in his ears.

"Faintly Ayas heard Xionedes say, "as clean and as neat a job as I have ever done."

He opened his eyes to see two small lumps of flesh floating in a pool of blood in the bowl in his hands. He gagged and almost threw up as Phaedra slapped a handfull of yellow powder on the open wound in Tithones' crutch. Nixod and another man stepped forward grinning to take Tithones from Gianes.

"Give him three days to heal and then I'll have a look at him, if he lasts that long that is," Xionedes commanded.

As the boy was dragged away Ayas noticed a slick of moisture across the small of his back. He stole a quick surreptitious glance at Gianes. Instinct told him that the consequences of being caught looking directly at one of his betters could be painful. He saw that the youth's erection was gone and that his cock was hanging limp and flaccid from the sparse growth of pubic hairs that sprouted at his crutch.

"You came Gianes," Xionedes had clearly noticed the same thing and his voice sounded amused.

"Yes," the youth replied ruefully, "the little whore jerked wildly when you slit him and I couldn't stop myself."

"You're excited as well," he added defensively and indeed Xionedes cock was jutting rigid and demanding in front of the man.

"Ah the impetuosity of the young," Xionedes said chuckling. "Well now it's my turn to seek relieve but it will take Ayas a little longer than that to give it to me."

"I think I'll go now," Gianes said hastily.

"Why not stay and share the slut with me or at least watch the fun?"

"No I'll go now" Gianes repeated sulkily.

"You silly boy. You're jealous," Xionedes sounded both amused and angry. "I've explained to you already the difference between my feeling for you my dear foolish lad and this slut. You I love. Ayas is just my whore, something I can use to satisfy my lusts. For me the brat is just a thing to use and when I'm tired of it to discard. You I respect and love. But if you want to go, go but come back here for supper. We'll have a dish of lark's tongue and figs in honey."

"I think I'll eat in the mess tonight." [Spartans were meant to eat communal meals which were noted for their simplicity. By the time of this story though the rules were being bent or ignored]

"Well suit yourself if you prefer black bread and barley porridge… Now Ayas put that bowl down and show me how good you are at sucking cock."

Already on his knees Ayas shuffled round so that he was facing his master. His face was a few inches from Xionedes' crutch. The man's smell of stale sweat and combined with the faint odour of faeces filled his nostrils. Seen close to the man's cock seemed even larger than before, a thick column of pale gristle ribbed with purple knotted veins that stood out from the pallid flesh. It rose iron hard and demanding from the forest of coarse black hair that covered Xionedes crutch and spread slightly more sparsely over his whole body.

Ayas had got to know Ocytus' cock well when they had lain together in the shadows in his father's hovel. He had sucked it and he had taken it up his bottom. But Ocytus had been a young man, hardly indeed more than a youth and his member, though it hurt enough the first time, was as nothing to Xionedes weapon which was that of a mature man and a large mature man at that. But Ayas knew he had no choice and he knew also that he had to work hard to satisfy his master if he was remain in possession of his balls even for a short time.

He ran his tongue the length of Xionedes cock feeling the man's blood throbbing in the tightly stretched flesh. Arriving at the pink helmet that crowned it he ran his tongue around. He teased the slit at its top with the tip of his tongue tasting the man's precum with it's strangely metallic flavour.

Wetting his lips he took the top of Xionede's cock into his mouth. Making sure he did not touch the man's cock with his teeth, he once again brought his tongue into play, this time teasing the pulsing rod that filled his mouth.

Xionede's hands gripped him by the ears. Ayas had learnt how to take cock from his time with Ocytus but Xionedes tool was a great deal more formidable a mouthful than that youth's. He just had time to take a deep breath before Xionedes pulled his head forward driving the man's swollen cock down into his gullet. Ayas swallowed desperately straining to accommodate the now iron hard rod. His face was pressed tight into Xionedes crutch, the man's pubic hairs coarse against his nose. He felt his throat working round the man's prick as he fought desperately for breath. Blood roared in his head and the world began to darken about him. He was just about to loose consciousness when Xionedes eased his head back. Ayas gulped air down into his lungs before his head was dragged forward once more forcing the man's cock down into his throat.

Over and over again Xionedes repeated the process, pulling Ayas forward onto his cock so that its full length was forced down into his throat, holding him there until he was on the point of loosing consciousness then withdrawing it just enough to allow him to draw breath before sheathing it once more in the boy's throat.

Then, still holding him by the ears, he pulled him to his feet and hurled him onto the couch.

Ayas fell on his back across the couch. He saw Xionedes advancing upon him in a state of rampant sexual excitement. The man's distended prick upright and cruelly curved assumed to his terrified eyes gigantic proportions.

"Get your knees up on either side of your head slut so your master can fuck you," Phaedra's voice ordered.

Blindly Ayas obeyed. In his terror he had forgotten the old hag but she must have been present through out.

"Shall I grease the boy ready for you Master?" Phaedra asked.

"No I want him to feel what it means to be my whore. Get hold his ankles now and keep him steady."

Phaedra reached forward from behind Ayas' head and took a firm grip of the boy's ankles. Xionedes stepped up close in front of where the boy lay on his back on the couch his bottom raised, his knees pressed down on either side of his head. The man went to spit on his hand and then glancing down at his cock laughed.

"It's got enough of the brat's saliva on it. It doesn't need any more lubrication," he remarked.

Using his right hand to guide it he levelled the tip of his prick at the entry to the boy's hole. Pushing outwards Ayas struggled to relax his sphincter. He was terrified of the pain that he knew was to come but he was even more terrified of the consequences of failing to satisfy his master.

Despite Ayas' best efforts the man found it a struggle to effect a lodgement in his bottom. Finally after much grunting and thrusting from Xionedes and a few squeals and whimpers from the boy the tip of the man's cock had forced its way past Ayas' sphincter.

Xionedes paused a moment leering down into Ayas' face.

"I like to see the pain in a brat's face when I penetrate him," he remarked and then drove down hard.

Ayas screamed as the pain tore through his body. It felt as if his bottom was being split apart as Xionedes hammered his cock deeper and deeper into his bottom with powerful thrusts of his hips. Once Xionedes had battered his way past Ayas' sphincter it was not long before his penis was fully sheathed in the boy's body. Ayas' eyes glazed over and his shrill screams subsided to a low moaning as pain and excitement mingled in an intoxicating mixture. Xionedes thrusts increased in tempo and force, the man's harsh panting punctuated by the rhythmic sound of his hips smacking against the boy's tightly drawn rump as he drove forward. Then suddenly he was still, apparently frozen with his head thrown back, motionless except for the muscles working in his heavy buttocks as he came deep inside the whimpering boy.

The crisis past Xionedes stepped back. There was an audible plop as his cock came away from the boy's anus.

"Don't let the slut mess up the floor woman," Xionedes snapped impatiently.

Phaedra releasing her hold of Ayas' ankles, stopped the mixture of blood, cum and faeces leaking from the boy's bottom with a wad of ragging.

Xionedes reaching forward grabbed Ayas by the collar round his neck and dragged him from the couch tumbling him to his knees on the floor at his feet.

"Clean it up," he commanded pulling the boy's head into his crutch. Gagging and sobbing Ayas applied his tongue and lips to the man's filth encrusted cock.

"Very well," Xionedes said when he was satisfied when Ayas had completed his task to his satisfaction, "take the whore away and patch him up. Bring him back to me when his bottom's healed and I'll have some more fun with him."

"Hold that rag against your hole," Phaedra snarled as she led Ayas away, "don't go leaking filth everywhere."

Tears streamed down Ayas' face as he waddled splay legged behind the slave woman. He knew that it was all too obvious to anyone who saw him what he was and what had been done to him.

The intense soreness between his legs made walking very painful but Phaedra urged him on mercilessly. Eventualy they were back in the courtyard from where they had set out. Phaedra led Ayas across it towards the water trough. Ayas saw Nixod lounging by the trough an evil smile on his face. He hesitated but Phaedra forced him forward with a savage jerk on his arm.

"By the way he's walking he's badly torn," Nixod said. He did not sounding at all sympathetic.

"What do you expect?" Phaedra replied laughing. "Master always treats his boys rough."

"Now slut get down on you back with your knees either side of your head and I'll see how bad the damage is."

"Come on boy. Do as you're told," Nixod snapped clipping Ayas on the side of the head as he hesitated.

"He'll be used to being in that position before long," Nixod remarked chuckling.

Kneeling on the ground Phaedra took the wad of ragging from Ayas' bottom and reaching up dipped it into the water trough. She swabbed at Ayas crack with the wet cloth. The boy screamed and kicked out as the woman touched his torn flesh.

"Hold his ankles Nixod," she ordered. "He needs sowing up. You brought the needled and horse hair."

"Yes," Nixod replied kneeling on the ground behind Ayas' head and taking hold of his ankles. "They're on the edge of the water trough."

Phaedra before Ayas' horrified eyes threaded a large needle with a length of horse hair.

Chapter 22

It was at the two terma where horses and riders collided jostled to get the tightest turn that most accidents happened. It was a lucky rider who survived a fall there among the flaying hooves of the galloping horses without serious injuries. Special gates were set in the boundary walls so that men could run out and drag the injured away before the horses came round for a second time. It was because of the danger and the number of injuries that in these races the horses were ridden by slave boys. Spartan youths were trained to be hardy but they were a resource of the state, potential warriors and not to be wasted in idle sport.

Ayas knelt on the floor beside his master's seat. Xionedes, as befitted a man of his wealth and importance and a noted owner of race horses, place was in the front row of seats opposite the finishing line. There was plenty of room for Ayas to hunker down beside him his cheek resting against Xionedes' bare thigh. As Xionedes watched the races he absentmindedly fondled the naked boy. Ayas took the man's hand in both of his and turned it, nuzzling it, tasting the salt on the man's damp palm.

Canopies had been spread above the tiers of seats banked high on either side of the race track to shade them from the sun but the heat was intense. The noise too was considerable and getting louder as the current race was reaching its crisis.

Xionedes in his excitement stood up, pulling his hand away from Ayas. The boy himself dared to look up. The horses had rounded the first terma and were galloping hard down the straight towards the second. Eighteen horses with riders, plus three rider-less ones whose jockeys had come off as they turned the post, hurtled full tilt towards the bend and the start of the second lap. The din was almost unbearable, the cheers and shouts of the crowd, drowning out the thunder of horses' hooves and the screams of fear and encouragement of the young riders. As a body they swung tight round the post marking the end of the straight, jostling and fighting for position. Four further boys were spilled from the back of their mounts and rolled on the ground among the flying hooves.

One boy got to his feet once the horses had passed and hobbled unsteadily to the side of the track. The other three lay still until men ran out and dragged their limp bodies away.

Xionedes cursed and threw himself back into his chair. Ayas saw with a sinking heart that one of the horses that had thrown its rider belonged to his master. He knew from bitter experience that Xionedes, never very gentle, was even rougher than usual when he had been unfortunate at the races.

All though was not lost – not yet at least. There was one more race to run after this one. The most important one of the day with the largest price money and the most money wagered on it. Ayas knew Vulcan was entered to run in it and surely the black would triumph in that as it had in so many before. He could see Damos now walking up and down in the shade of the portico leading Vulcan to and fro waiting for the moment to take him out on the track. The big horse its coat glistening darkly, its ears pricked in excitement, seemed to Ayas almost to dance with eagerness at the prospect of the race. Damos too seemed to have been smartened up for the occasion, his hair brushed smooth his limbs oiled. Both horse and boy gleamed from careful grooming.

Ayas felt the ground throb under his feet. The noise that had died away momentarily rose to a knew crescendo. The horses were completing the second lap and were driving fast and hard for the finishing line directly in front of them.

Xionedes did not wait for the finish of the race but getting to his feet began to push his way through the crowd towards the portico. Ayas followed keeping a respectful couple of paces behind his master. Every now and again a man reached out to pat or squeeze his bare bottom as he passed.

Ayas did not resent this. It was four months since Xionedes had first raped him and he had long ago accepted his role as his master's boy whore. Indeed his very appearance proclaimed him so, with his hair and body oiled and scented, his cheeks rouged and his eyes outline with kohl. Not to mention the bangle on his ankle with the tiny bell that chimed as he walked.

Indeed he found the attentions of the men reassuring. If they found him attractive then so surely must his lord and while that was so his balls at least were safe.

He had even consoled himself with this thought when Xionedes had ordered that he should be fitted with a nipple ring. While Xionedes watched, Nixod had pinned him to the ground with his hands on his shoulders and Phaedra, taking his right nipple between finger and thumb, had pierced the raised flesh with a bronze awl. Before the ring was fixed Xionedes had pushed the woman away from the screaming boy and sucked at the blood that welled from the wound. Then the man had squatted at his head, his hand resting on his brow, staring into his eyes, savouring every second of the boy slave's suffering as the ring was threaded through the pierced flesh.

The pain was intense but Xionedes had never thought it worth having Tithones' nipples pierced and now he had served his master for a month longer than Tithones had managed and there was still no sign of Xionedes tiring of him.

Ayas wondered what it would be like to be gelded – supposing that is that he survived the cutting. He thought it would be miserable – even worse than his current fate. He hated and feared Xionedes but despite that the man's touch excited him – indeed even being near him did so.. Even now as he hurried after his master he sported a partial erection that excited a few bawdy comments from people as he passed.

Xionedes had reached the portico and his trainer hurried forward to greet him.

"Where is the brat who lost the last race for me?" Xionedes demanded harshly before the man could speak.

"By the wall there Lord," the trainer said quickly, "I had him put there in the shade before we can get him back to the stables and have his leg set. It was broken in the fall. I'm afraid he'll always be lame now."

"I couldn't care if the little turd doesn't ever walk again," Xionedes snarled, striding over to where the boy lay. "He lost that race for me and a good deal of money as well."

The boy lay with his back propped up against the wall of the portico whimpering quietly. Ayas noticed that one leg was stuck out and was bent back halfway down the shin at an odd angle. A jagged end of white bone jutted out through the boy's deeply tanned skin.

"I bought you to ride horses not to fall off them," Xionedes grated.

"Master… please I didn't mean to…"

"I couldn't care what you did or did not mean to do you useless lump of dog's shit," Xionedes raged. "Your stupidity and clumsiness has lost me a great deal of money."

Deliberately placing his foot on the boy's broken leg at the point where the fractured bone obtruded he pressed down slowly increasing the pressure as he spoke.

"When you get the brat back to the stables," he said raising his voice to be heard over the boy's screams, "he is to be whipped soundly and then placed in the stocks."

"Lord," the trainer protested, "the boy's leg is broken. If we don't get it set he will be no use for anything at all."

"So far as I am concerned," Xionedes replied coldly, "the little rat is no good for anything already. My way at least his sufferings will serve some useful purpose as a warning and an encouragement to the other brats to try harder."

"Now," he continued turning to face towards where Damos was leading Vulcan in slow circles in the area just outside the race track, "is everything ready for the next event?"

"Yes Lord," the trainer replied eagerly, "and I think we are in with a very good chance of a win."

"Where's the brat whose meant to be riding the horse," Xionedes demanded.

""Nixod is fetching him now Lord," the trainer said as the trumpet sounded to summon the horses for the next race onto the course.

Sure enough at that moment Nixod appeared pushing his way through the crowd pulling a terrified boy about Ayas size and age by his ear.

"Get a move on man," Xionedes shouted, "we should have had the boy up and Vulcan out on the course by now.

"Here the brat is Lord," Nixod said with a vicious jerk on the boy's ear, "I ran him to ground skulking away by the food stalls hoping for scraps or just trying to get out of riding."

"Get on with you turd," he snarled swinging the boy forward and sending him suddenly staggering towards Vulcan with a boot up his rump.

Damos seeing what was happening tried to turn Vulcan to face the approaching boy. He was too late. Vulcan sensing something approaching him from behind and to his left lashed out with both his rear hooves. One caught the boy on the side of the head. He fell to the ground and lay there unmoving blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Ayas remembered what Damos had told him about Vulcan having a blind to his left and how he was liable to lash out with his hind hooves if he sensed something coming at him from that direction.

"Get another boy quick," Xionedes shouted urgently.

"There isn't another one Lord.," the trainer said despairingly. "Not here. We only brought two jockeys with us and now both are injured and we'll never be able to get another one from the stables before the race begins."

"I've got a fortune bet on this race. You told me Vulcan was a near certainty to win… Here get this slut," Xionedes suddenly turned on Ayas and grabbing him by the arm pulled him forward, "up on the brute's back."

"That," the tone of the trainer's voice made clear what he thought of Ayas' chances were.

"Well it's better than nothing and it'll safe me the cost of the fine for entering a horse for the race and not running it."

"Very well," the trainer said resignedly.

"Here boy," he said stooping beside the horse and making a cup with his hands, "put your foot in there and I'll give you a boost up."

Vulcan shifted uneasily as he felt the weight of the boy. To Ayas perched precariously on his back the ground looked a long way away.

"Grip with your knees boy and get a hold of the reigns. Not like that… It's too late to teach you now…just try to stay on…" The tone of the trainer's voice showed that he thought Ayas had little chance of doing so.

"Damos you'll have to lead Vulcan out onto the course and hold him till the start. The boy will never be able to control the horse by himself. Don't let him go till the trumpet sounds the start. And boy keep back a bit at the start and then run fast for the side before they complete the first circle. I've already lost two boys today and I don't want to loose a third ."

"Just let Vulcan alone," Damos councilled Ayas as he led the horse with the boy wobbling uneasily on his back up to the starting line. "He'll look after you. He knows much more about this game than you do. Just do your best to stay on."

Out on the track the noise coming from the tiers of seats banked high along either side of the race course was deafening. It beat down on Ayas' head adding to the boy's confusion and terror. Two dozen excited boys riding high spirited horses jostled for advantage at the start line. A dark skinned boy [* Negroes or as the Greeks termed them Moors were highly prized as expert jockeys] riding a big chestnut horse spotted Ayas and seeing his painted face and spotting the gold ring set in his right nipple grinned and shouted an obscene taunt as he pushed past him.

The shrill blast of the starting trumpet rang out over the roar of the crowd. The horses burst into motion their pounding hooves raising a cloud of dust as they hurled themselves down the straight.

Following the trainers instructions Damos had stood back a little at the start so Vulcan began the race at the back of the field but it was clear that he did not intend to stay there and furthermore he knew only one pace and that was flat out. He stretched his neck and drove on hard down the track gaining on the horses in front of him with every stride.

Ayas on his back after a moment of utter terror found that he had in some mysterious way become one with the horse he rode. Fear gave way to excitement as he saw the ground fly past below him and the hooves of the horses in front growing steadily nearer.

At the terma where the horses turned sharp back on themselves before racing back down the straight on the opposite side of the central dividing wall Vulcan was well up with the rear of the field. He barged his way tight round the pillar using his superior strength and speed to force his way through. Bursting clear of the ruck of horses and riders Ayas there were now only two horses ahead of them. A grey and beyond him again and going strong the big chestnut ridden by the coloured boy.

The grey Vulcan passed with contemptuous ease sweeping past him on the outside as he sprinted down the straight. The chestnut was going well but it was clear that Vulcan had the legs of him. He was right up on its heels by the time they reached the end of the straight and were turning the second terma. Vulcan tried to smash his way past the chestnut on the inside but the horse held his place and would not give way. They came out of the turn with Vulcan right on the other beasts heels. Vulcan went to pass on the outside but though he had the speed the coloured boy edged the chestnut outwards forcing Vulcan ever nearer to the boundary wall. Ayas saw the danger and for the first time in the whole race checked his mount. They were back now at the first terma but way out on the side of the track. The lightest touch on the reigns turned Vulcan and the horse seeing his chance tried to cut through on the inside. Again there was just not enough space and the Chestnut blocked him at the last moment.

They came round the pillar with the chestnut still leading. Ayas could see the finishing posts in front of him at the end of the straight. They had to get past now or loose the race. He saw what had to be done and hoped Vulcan would understand it too and have the power to achieve it. Jabbing his bare heels into the horses' flanks he screamed at it to go faster setting him once more to overtake the chestnut on the outside. The coloured boy moved once more to block them. As soon as he was fully committed Ayas checked Vulcan and swung his head round to the inside. The horse saw his chance and went hard for it before either the Chestnut or its rider realised what was happening. Vulcan with Ayas on his back swept past the chestnut on the inside.

As they raced for the line Ayas felt a stinging blow across his shoulders. Looking back he saw the Negro boy raising his whip for a second cut but by now he was out of reach. In frustration the boy cut at Vulcan's crup. The horse flew on regardless and then they were past the finishing post.

Ayas reigned Vulcan in. He could see Damos running towards him a broad grin on his face. The roar of the crowd echoed in his ears. But at that moment he cared nothing for any of this. He was intent on getting the boy who had used his whip on him and worse still on Vulcan. The chestnut drew up beside him and he hurled himself at his rider. The two naked boys tumbled to the ground and rolled there in the dust under the hooves of their horses, scratching bighting and kicking while the crowd hooted and yelled encouragement.

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