Nova Baiae
Chapter Fourteen "Telemachus' First Day"
This is a story of erotic fiction which contains references to male on male sex. If this offends you then read no further. It is meant to be read by adults over the age of eighteen years and if you are under the legal age of your jurisdiction, please leave immediately. The characters and events contained in the story are fictitious and bear no resemblance to actual persons or events.
Written by Jean-Christophe: June, 2020
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Chapter 14
It is early morning - his first full day of being an owned slave - and Telemachus is yet to come to grips with the reality of his new life as the property of the innkeeper, Soterus.
He wakes early - long before his new master - while it is still dark and before the first rays of the new day lighten the eastern horizon. Together, with his fellow slaves, Aeolus, Ovid and Virgil, he's been busily engaged cleaning up the inn after last night and making it ready for the new day. He'd been revolted at the overnight mess left by Soterus' boisterous customers which including food scraps strewn across the rough wooden tables and floor and, even worse, by their puke. But far worse are the overflowing piss-pots placed at the end of each table for the convenience of the inn's patrons. Their stench permeates the closed confines of the tavern and it is a smell that leaves Telemachus feeling squeamish.
While Virgil works in the kitchen preparing their master's breakfast and a huge pot of stew to feed the hungry inn patrons throughout the day, Ovid, Aeolus and Telemachus work hard to put the inn to rights before their master awakes. Fearfully, they work silently so as to not disturb Soterus' slumber well aware of his early morning bad temper and they are spurred on by fear of his quirt or heavy leather paddle.
As he and Aeolus scrub down the tables and mop the floors, a subdued Ovid, knowing these to be his last hours at the inn, cleans up the bar and lays out the wine-jugs and tankards ready for the day's first customers.
Ovid has mixed emotions about his sale to Senator Karelius. One part of him will be glad to say farewell to both his current master, Soterus and the inn's debauched patrons who'd sorely abused him throughout his time serving them as a slave. Bitterly, he recalls the many indignities visited upon him; of the many beatings he'd suffered at Soterus' merest whim, of having to surrender his ass to the tavern's patrons for the few miserable coins paid to his master, the humiliation he'd endured as he, Aeolus and Virgil had been made to perform the most perverted sex acts as entertainment for the inn's clientele which included being fucked by Casca's dog-slaves, Brutus and Rufus.
He doesn't really know much about his new owner, Karelius but if the occasional comments he'd heard from the inn's patrons are any guide, then he knows his new master to be a cruel sadist. Those same rumors speak of the magnificence of Karelius' enormous, white marble palace perched high on a promontory overlooking the sparkling ocean, of a mysterious revolving dining-room and a private temple dedicated to the god Priapus - he of the enormous phallus. More sinister are the whispered stories of the private dungeon where Karelius indulges his sadism with his unfortunate slaves and of an arena where slaves are made to fight one another much like the gladiators of old Rome. Whether or not these rumors are true or false, Ovid trembles at what might now confront him. He is aware that Karelius has bought him for both his fuckable good looks and his brute strength which are to be put to use as one of Karelius' litter-bearers. His prospects look grim; but this is the lot of any slave as they have no control over their destinies. That is for their masters to decide. All he knows from Soterus' comments is that sometime early this morning, he'll be collected and delivered to his new master.
When Soterus had told him, he'd been sold to Karelius, Ovid wondered how he'd come to the senator's attention. Karelius and Soterus aren't friends; the patrician senator has nothing in common with the plebeian inn-keeper. However, the senator is an occasional after-hours visitor to Soterus, who, through his questionable contacts, sometimes does 'favours' for Karelius and Ovid usually serves refreshments at these clandestine meetings. The proud Karelius is jealous of his position and reputation and if anyone dares to criticize him, then they pay a high price for their temerity. Any man foolish enough to publicly criticize Karelius or to impugn his reputation is always a victim of a 'random, unfortunate robbery' and savage beating in some darkened street. And these are always orchestrated by Soterus for a sizeable fee naturally. Ovid assumed - quite rightly - he'd attracted Karelius' interest as he served at these secret meetings between his master and the senator.
Ovid watches as his replacement, the new slave, Telemachus works alongside Aeolus. No doubt, Telemachus will feel the force of Soterus' wrath and be subjected to the same cruel treatment he'd suffered during his time at the inn. And yet, he feels no pity for the new slave who must learn to endure whatever befalls him. His time spent as a slave has made Ovid selfish and he has no regard for the sufferings of his fellow slaves. This is an attitude common to most slaves; self-preservation becomes the main motivating factor in their lives. To survive and to avoid punishment dominates a slave's thoughts. Selfishly, in the past, as Ovid had watched his master, Soterus punish his two fellow slaves, Aeolus and Virgil, he'd felt nothing other than relief he wasn't sharing in their punishment. And they, no doubt, had similar feelings when he was punished and they were spared.
Such are the vagaries of a slave's life!
Soon the inn is clean and all is in readiness for the first of the day's patrons. Now, the slaves wait fearfully for their master's appearance. As is customary, the slaves, with the exception of Virgil working in the kitchen, assume their positions of abasement on the floor. Ovid, Aeolus and Telemachus kneel on the floor on all fours. Taking his lead from the more experienced slaves, Telemachus presses his nose to the floor with both hands, palms down, on either side of his head; he elevates his ass and spreads his knees as far as possible so that his cock and balls hang low between his thighs.
Now, all they can do is to remain silent and wait for their master's appearance.
As he waits, Telemachus thinks back over last night's events. Certainly, his new master had cut him no slack and he was thrown into his new duties serving the patrons at their tables. It was all very confusing and often he was uncertain of what he must do. To his credit, Aeolus tried to help by telling him what was required. At first, Telemachus was hesitant and unsure of his new duties. This incurred the wrath of his new master who used his quirt on his ass, back and shoulders much to the delight of the inn's rowdy patrons who wholeheartedly approved of Soterus' training methods. Telemachus quickly learned the quirt is a good motivator and a great educator in learning his new duties. And really, no great skills are required in carrying plates of food or jugs of wine to a table of drunken rowdies.
Far worse was the treatment he endured at their hands. Most patrons recognized him as a new slave and were eager to become 'acquainted' with him. He'd wept tears of shame and embarrassment as he was made to lewdly pose fully naked while rough hands roamed freely over his young body. He'd shivered as, under the watchful eye of his new master, his body was pummeled, the hardness of his burgeoning muscles gauged, his generous nipples pinched and pulled, his balls hefted and weighed in the cup of a hand and his cock stroked into an erection. He'd suffered in silence at the lecherous jeers, taunts and ribald comments of his tormentors. Unsure what was expected of him he simply surrendered to their unwanted attention.
While serving at one table, he was horrified to see a redheaded slave lying doglike at his master's feet. The dog-slave - for that is what he was - wore a collar and leash and was muzzled and as Telemachus approached, he raised his head and 'growled' loudly. His master leant forward and sharply slapped the slave's ass with the admonishment to
"Quieten down, Rufus!"
This attracted the attention of Soterus who wandered over to say hello to the dog's owner and feed his slave a tasty morsel. Rufus hungrily wolfed down the cold scrap of meat - the left over from a customer's meal - and licked clean Soterus' fingers. Then, the slave sat on his haunches and with pleading eyes, he begged for more. Laughingly, Soterus patted Rufus on the head and told him.
That's enough, boy. Your Master doesn't want you getting fat."
Then, he greeted Casca.
"Good evening, Casca! I see Rufus has taken a fancy to my new slave."
"Greetings, Soterus! So, it would seem! Is this the slave you purchased to replace Ovid?"
"Indeed, it is. I bought him today by private treaty from Volpiscus. He only arrived from the mainland in the past few days and therefore he's new to slavery and untested. However, he'll soon learn!"
"He's a fine-looking slave, Soterus. Had I been present, I might have given you a run for your money. He's just the type of young pup I'm looking to add to my kennels."
Of course, Telemachus was unaware of the significance of this conversation as he had no awareness of Casca and his perverted penchant for turning slaves into canines. Hence the reference to him as a "young pup" was lost on him. In time, however, he will come to learn more about Casca and his two dogs, Brutus and Rufus. But for the present, he remains blissfully ignorant.
"Casca I looked for you at the slave-pens. I understood you to say you'd be visiting today to check out the new stock."
"Ah well, you see," Casca answered sheepishly, "I did set out from home this morning with Brutus fully intending to visit the slave-pens. But I was waylaid at the first inn I passed. The morning was hot and I stopped for a tankard of wine. Well, you know how it is; one tankard lead to another then another and soon I was in no fit state to continue. Brutus, faithful hound that he is, lead me home and I slept for the rest of the day. But I do intend to visit tomorrow. Are there any other slaves like this boy, Soterus?"
"Casca, I did see a couple of other younger slaves with the same body shape and coloring of my new slave. I am sure one of them would suit your needs. There was one in particular - a most striking slave - who would interest you. I think Volpiscus renamed him Xenius from memory."
"Then, I will make sure, I visit Volpiscus tomorrow and check out this slave, Xenius. But tell me, did you see the young mainlander, Rhodri at the pens?"
"Yes, Casca, I did. Only he is no longer called Rhodri. Volpiscus has given him the slave name of Chrysos which suits him. I saw him in all his naked glory with the fresh "servus" brand on his ass. He was collared, shackled and locked in a pen with another fine slave and my new boy. I have to say, slavery suits him. Volpiscus told me he is a popular lot and attracts much buyer interest. One buyer, in particular, who showed great interest was Senator Maximus who vowed to return on Saturday to buy him and his pen-mate."
"That could be awkward, Soterus. I thought it was a foregone conclusion that Karelius would buy him."
"It was, Casca. That was the idea when the mainlander was delivered to the slave-pens and Volpiscus is quite worried about this. As we all know, there is great animosity between Karelius and Maximus and now it seems both are determined to own Chrysos. I guess it will play itself out at the auction. I would think the bidding for the slave will be keen with neither senator yielding to the other."
"Then, I will make sure I am present to watch as Chrysos is sold. Although, if I were to put money on the outcome, I would wager that Karelius will be the eventual winner."
"I agree, Casca. And I too will be present at the auction and watching with great interest."
"Tell me Soterus, does your new slave have a name?"
"Yes Casca. Volpiscus named him Telemachus; an admirable name for a slave."
"Soterus, do I have your permission to examine Telemachus?"
"Of course, old friend. You honour me by admiring my new property. Feel free to inspect him but I ask that you don't invade his ass-hole at this stage."
"Why is that, Soterus?"
"The slave is still a virgin and his ass is as tight as a drum and I want to keep it that way. He'll be a delight to fuck for the first time. A few nights from now, I intend to sell his virginity to the highest bidder among my patrons. That way, I will recover some of the expense of his purchase price. Until then, hopefully, his presence will whet their appetites and make them eager to bid."
Telemachus listened in horror! This was the first indication he'd heard of his new master's plans for him. He'd assumed - quite rightly - that his life as a slave would be a hard one and naively, he'd only thought of it in turns of it being labour oriented despite being exposed to the lust and lecherous advances of the buyers who'd inspected him at Volpiscus' slave-pens. As he listened to the conversation between Soterus and Casca, he learned his master intended to 'sell' the first use of his ass to the highest bidder from among his drunken customers. His emotions were a mixture of utter revulsion, raw fear, utter humiliation and desolation.
"So, my wily friend, the slave will be sold twice. Today, you bought his body and you intend to sell his virgin ass at auction. Now, with your permission, I would like to finger him."
"Slave, you heard Master Casca! He wants to finger you. Adopt the position!"
Telemachus hesitated; unsure of the position he was to adopt. Throughout the day, in the slave-pens, he'd been subjected to numerous examinations but they had been impromptu ones and he'd simply obeyed the instructions of those conducting the inspections. Fearful of incurring his new master's anger, he frantically tried to recall some of those positions and his brain worked feverishly recollecting them. Then he remembered seeing other slaves being posed and quickly he tries to copy them.
He moved his feet apart and with his fingers intertwined, he placed his hands behind his head and hoped this was enough to please his master. However, he was doomed to disappointment!
"Stupid slave!" Soterus roared in anger attracting the attention of the inn's patrons who fell silent as Soterus mercilessly applied his leather quirt to the naked shoulders, back and ass of the terrified new slave. As Telemachus cried out in pain, even the dog-slave, Rufus lying on his belly at Casca's feet raised himself onto all fours to watch. All eyes were on the unfortunate Telemachus as he suffered his master's wrath. However, there was no sympathy shown for the slave's suffering; with one exception, all heartily approved of Soterus' right to punish his slave.
The exception was Aeolus who fully understood Telemachus's wretchedness and knew all too well what he was feeling. Afterall, it wasn't that long ago that he'd been in a similar situation as the newly purchased slave and he had to endure the same pain and humiliation now being inflicted on Telemachus. At first, Aeolus had despaired and though he sometimes prayed for a quick end to his slavery, he nevertheless learned life - any life - was precious even for a slave.
Gradually, he became inured to the sheer drudgery of his life, the long hours of back-breaking labour, Soterus' never-ending verbal and physical abuse and the humiliations heaped on him by the tavern's drunken patrons. As they groped his ass, fondled his balls or stroked his cock, he adopted a "grin and bear it" attitude to all their indignities and he gave the impression that he enjoyed their unwelcome attention. He quickly learned what was expected of him and as coarsened hands kneaded his pert buttocks or he was crudely finger-fucked, he would wriggle his ass, tighten his sphincter and moan as though he was enjoying the attention. And he never failed to thank them most profusely for their 'kindnesses' in paying attention to him. Often, in response to his appreciative 'thank you, Master', they would tug on his balls, playfully jerk his cock or affectionately pat his ass as one would with a favourite pet.
Aeolus hadn't had a chance to explain all this to Telemachus. He'd been too busy instructing him in his other duties to warn him about the unwanted attention of the tavern's patrons and how he is expected to react to them.
Unlike Ovid, who is callously indifferent to the plight of another slave, Aeolus is more sensitive. He felt for Telemachus and understood the confusion and fear he, no doubt, was experiencing as the tavern's newest slave. Telemachus, as he endured Casca's inspection, cut a forlorn figure and Aeolus, recalling his own initial inspection, identified with his plight. He flinched as Soterus' cruel quirt cuts across Telemachus' exposed back and ass and felt his pain.
Casca's inspection of Telemachus was thorough and the new slave was spared no indignity. Casca's rough hands roamed freely over the slave's smooth body testing the firmness of his warm flesh and gauging the hardness of his burgeoning, young muscles. Cruelly, his nipples were pinched and twisted until they were reddened causing Telemachus to cry out in pain. This pleased Casca who commented to Soterus.
"Soterus, the slave responds well to physical stimulus. I like to hear a slave yelping as you 'play' with him."
For the next few minutes, Telemachus endured every conceivable indignity that Casca could inflict upon him. His winced as Casca pulled down on his tender scrotum; he cried out in pain as his vulnerable balls were mercilessly squeezed and he mentally battled against the odds as Casca stroked his cock into a humiliating and very public erection. Fortunately for Telemachus his ass was 'off limits' and he was spared the ultimate indignity of having Casca's finger probe the most private inner recess of his body. As best he can, Telemachus tried to disassociate himself from Casca's violation of his body but he couldn't shut out the uncouth shouts, the suggestive jeers and the lewd taunts of the tavern's drunken patrons as they looked on.
After a while, Casca's thirst for wine was greater than his need to continue 'fingering' Telemachus. Dismissively, he slapped the young slave's ass and told him
"Be on your way slave. Return to your duties."
Telemachus needed no second telling and quickly resumed serving the boisterous patrons. For the next hour, Telemachus worked hard scuttling from one table to another fetching pitchers of wine or bowls of hot stew from the kitchen to the ever demanding and impatient patrons. Occasionally, he was reprimanded by an angry customer for being "too slow" or told "slave, this food is cold" and this attracted the ire of Soterus and the full fury of his vicious quirt.
Then suddenly, Soterus grabbed Telemachus by the ear and led him into the centre of the tavern. He called for quiet and waited until the patrons fell silent; then he spoke.
"Gentlemen, as many of you know, I have sold my slave Ovid to the illustrious Senator Karelius to serve as one of his litter-bearers. Ovid is such a lucky slave to have been chosen for so noble a task. Ovid will be leaving the tavern early tomorrow morning for his new master's villa. He will move among you shortly so if you wish to 'farewell' him feel free to do so with just one restriction; his ass is out of bounds as it now belongs to Senator Karelius."
"And is that the slave you bought to replace him?" A customer asked, "If so, very nice."
"Gentlemen, let me introduce my newest slave, Telemachus purchased earlier today to replace Ovid." Soterus announced. "He is new to slavery and only arrived from the mainland a few days ago. Therefore, his ass is still unsullied territory. But let me show you. Turn around slave, so my patrons can get a better look at your ass."
Shamefaced, Telemachus did as he was ordered and turned with his back to the crowd. Immediately, he was greeted with loud whistling, catcalls, jeers and lewd comments. From somewhere among the patrons, the comment was made.
"The slave has a fuckable ass!"
"Indeed, he does!" Soterus replied. And as to demonstrate, he loudly slapped both Telemachus' ass cheeks. As the sound reverberated around the tavern, he asked. "Do want to see more?"
The answering shouts from the drunken revelers of "yes, yes!", "have him bend over and spread his ass-cheeks", "have him show us his asshole" indicated that they did indeed want to see more of Telemachus. Soterus ordered the now weeping Telemachus to
"Feet apart and bend at the waist, slave!"
Telemachus bent double and as he did so, Soterus reached out and taking an ass-cheek in each hand, he spread the young slave's buttocks to their widest extent thus exposing the rosy-pink and extremely tight sphincter to public scrutiny.
The wily Soterus knew from experience he'd gain the lustful interest of the tavern's clients and whet their sexual appetites by centering their interest on his newest slave's ass. Afterall, he has done this before when he'd auctioned the virginities of Ovid, Virgil and Aeolus in that order. The interest in those three slaves had been considerable and the rewards great. He had recouped a good percentage of their purchase prices and he was determined Telemachus will be no different. The slave does have a most desirable ass - possibly the best of his current slaves - and Soterus is determined to get the best price he can for it.
Soterus noted the nervous puckering of the slave's anus which seemed to be winking at him and he felt his cock responding beneath his tunic. Already he felt a 'wetness' in his undergarment. Telemachus' ass promises much and Soterus looks forward to using it but that must wait until after his virginity is sold. However, after that, there will be no limits on how often he uses his new slave.
Obviously, the tavern's patrons appreciated what they saw as shown by the loud derisive laughter and lewd comments that pass back and forth between them. Soterus sensed their lascivious interest has been aroused and he continued to inflame their lust.
"Gentlemen, which one of you wouldn't want to be the first to thrust his rampant cock into this slave's as yet unplowed ass?"
And he was heartened by their eager responses. He decided to strike while he had their interest.
"Gentlemen, ten nights from now it is my intention to auction the right of first access to my new slave's virgin ass; the prospect of which no doubt appeals to you all. I invite all those interested to examine the slave over the days to the auction - he is available for your inspections - and decide if the idea of being the lucky one to fuck the slave for the first time appeals to you. I am sure there are many among you who find the slave attractive enough to want to be the first to fuck him. If so, you will be given that chance ten nights from now when I invite your bids."
Having aroused his customers interest, Soterus ordered Telemachus to circulate among the packed tables where he was subjected to indignities he never knew existed as eager hands roamed freely over his nude body. Some of the men - most of whom were very drunk - treated his body more gently than others. At times his ass was almost lovingly caressed; at other times it was slapped roughly as a sign of contempt. Most times he was ordered to "bend and spread" and he waited as his orifice was inspected and teased. Occasionally, an over-enthusiastic drunk attempted to test the tightness of his asshole by trying to insert a probing finger into his anus. But fortunately for the wretched, young slave, Soterus was hovering nearby to intervene and prevent such an intrusion.
Eventually, interest in Telemachus waned and as the hour had grown late, the patrons lit their torches and staggered out of the tavern into the darkened, narrow streets to return to their homes. There is no street lighting and they must rely on their flickering torches to show them the way and to help them safely navigate the uneven footpaths.
Inside the now empty tavern, Soterus securely bolted the doors and counted the night's takings before he retired upstairs to his bedroom. The four slaves were left to eat a late meal from the leftovers in the kitchen and to retire to their sleeping quarters - a small, windowless room adjacent to the kitchen. Their master doesn't supply them with mattresses or blankets and the only concession he makes to their comfort is a bed of straw.
All four slaves were exhausted after their day's labours and huddled together for warmth. Telemachus found himself lying with his back to Aeolus who wrapped his arms around the newest slave for additional warmth. Telemachus drew comfort from Aeolus' warm body and moved closer. He remembered sleeping between Chrysos and Cleon in Volpiscus' slave-pens and how at first he'd been repulsed by their nakedness but at the same time, and despite his conservative upbringing, he'd found it pleasurable.
And he felt much the same with Aeolus' nakedness pressing against his own nakedness. He found comfort in Aeolus' warm body and he pushed backwards to be even closer. He felt Aeolus' steady heartbeat and the even rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply. But most of all, he felt Aeolus' hard erection pressing itself into the crevasse between his ass-cheeks. Exhausted from the day's tumultuous events, Telemachus fell into a disturbed and fitful sleep.
Telemachus stirred once or twice during the night and woke in panic but was soon reassured by the throbbing presence of Aeolus' cockhead pressing against his ass-hole. Somehow, he takes comfort from this and soon fell asleep again.
He is wakened by Aeolus shaking his shoulders and telling him it is time to rise. Telemachus stirs and rubs the sleep from his eyes and is surprised to find it is still dark. As though anticipating Telemachus' question, Aeolus tells him.
"Time to get up, Telemachus! There's much to done before Domine wakes and unless you want to feel his anger, we best get an early start. But we must take care not to wake Domine and or we'll all be soundly whipped. Therefore, be silent as we work. But first we must piss and then eat."
Telemachus' bladder is full and he gazes searchingly for a latrine and not seeing one he asks.
"Where do I pee?"
Ovid, who is in a surly mood tells him.
"It's obvious isn't it you dumb fuck. You piss in one of the piss pots that the customers use. And don't spill a drop unless you want your ass beaten."
"Why do I need to be careful and not spill a drop?" Telemachus asks in all innocence.
"Fuck, are you for real or just stupid?" Ovid sneers. "Our piss is valuable to our master. He sells it, together with the patrons' piss, to the fullers and laundries. As you'll find out when you and Aeolus deliver last night's piss to one of the workshops this morning."
"Hey, lighten up," Aeolus chides Ovid, "after all Telemachus is new and doesn't know his way around as yet."
"Yeah, you're right Aeolus. Sorry, Telemachus," Ovid's tone is more conciliatory. "it's just that I've been sold and you haven't. I go to my new dominus in a few hours' time to serve as a litter-bearer. Some of the patrons were taunting me last night and telling me what a cruel, new master I have. And I am scared shitless."
"It could be worse, Ovid." Virgil comments sympathetically. "Domine, could have sold you to a brothel. Can you imagine a fate worse than being shackled to a fucking-bench and having your ass and throat ravished all day and late into the night?"
"Virgil is right, Ovid." Aeolus agrees. "Better a litter-bearer than a whore-slave."
Telemachus listens with dismay at the conversation as the four eat the first meal of the day. For Ovid, this is his last meal at the tavern and it feels like the condemned man's last meal before being taken to the gallows. The meal itself is uninteresting and consists of a cold, glutinous-grey gruel made from mixed grains, black bread, figs and olives. For Telemachus, the realities of his new slavery are really hitting home.
The four swiftly eat their tasteless breakfast and move quickly to their allotted duties to get the tavern set up for a new day. Aeolus and Telemachus clear tables, wash dishes and sweep and mop floors while Ovid sets out tankards ready for the first customers of the day. Meanwhile, Virgil is busy in the kitchen stoking the fire and preparing a large pot of stew ready to serve meals to the first hungry customers.
Lastly, Aeolus and Telemachus empty the overflowing piss pots into a large clay pot. Aeolus tells Telemachus their first duty for the day - once Soterus wakes - will be for them to carry the heavy pot to either a leatherwork shop or a laundry. Telemachus is curious and asks why. Aeolus patiently explains that the urine is a valuable resource used in the tanning of leather or to whiten the togas and tunics of the local inhabitants and it is another source of income for their greedy master. All this is very new and complexing to the na‹ve Telemachus and emphasizes the fact that he is a very new slave with much to learn. And always, hanging over him is the awful and frightening prospect of being raped nine nights from now.
With their first chores for the day now done, Virgil works in the kitchen while Ovid, Aeolus and Telemachus kneel on all fours in the position of submission and wait for their master to awaken. Time drags and the slaves remain silent so as not to disturb their master's sleep. Unused to maintaining such an unnatural position for so long a period, Telemachus' muscles start to cramp and he tries to ease the pain by flexing his legs and arms.
"Keep still, fuck you!" Ovid hisses fearfully. "If Domine catches you moving, we'll all be whipped!"
Eventually, after what seems an eternity to Telemachus, he hears noises from upstairs as his master awakens. After several minutes, he listens to the stomping of Soterus' feet as he noisily descends the stairs into the tavern for an inspection. He ignores the three crouching slaves and moves around the room looking for any faults in their work that warrants punishment. Finding none puts him in a foul mood and although tempted to beat Ovid's and Telemachus' asses with a perforated, leather paddle, he decided against doing so for very practical reasons.
Ovid is no longer his slave and he will be leaving soon for his new master's home. He knows Karelius wouldn't appreciate taking possession of his new slave if his ass showed signs of a very recent beating. And as much as he'd like to flog the ass of his new slave, Telemachus he knows better than to do so. Telemachus' body must remain unblemished and relatively unmarked - although the odd stripe from his quirt doesn't matter too much - until after the auction in nine night's time. But after that, well there'll be no holding back or sparing the paddle on the ass of his newest slave.
However, there are still Aeolus and Virgil and their asses are available. He calls for Virgil to fetch the paddle and take his place alongside Aeolus. He then takes up position behind the row of kneeling slaves and he chooses Virgil as the first victim to feel his early morning ire.
For the next few moments there is silence broken only by the nervous breathing of Ovid, Aeolus and Virgil; for them this has become a morning ritual where their master, Soterus assets his authority over them. Fearfully, they wait and wonder whose ass will be the first to feel the paddle's pain. Soterus enjoys playing this cruel game with his slaves which leaves them guessing who he will choose as his first victim. Telemachus is new to this and remains blissfully unaware but in coming days he'll become all to familiar with Soterus' "lottery of pain".
Suddenly, a loud "thwack" as hard leather strikes tender flesh reverberates through the room and is followed immediately by Virgil's howl of pain. Four more times the paddle makes contact with Virgil and his cries grow louder. Soterus is a powerfully built man - he could be described as brutish - and he uses the full strength of his arm in applying the paddle. By the fifth blow, Virgil is sobbing and begging for mercy although he knows from past experience none will be shown. It's not in his master's nature to show mercy to his slaves.
Next to feel the paddle is Aeolus and by the fifth blow, he too is sobbing and begging for mercy.
Suddenly, Telemachus is afraid! Will he be next? However, he and Ovid aren't beaten for some reason neither fully understands. Nevertheless, they are relieved that they have been spared.
Soterus orders all four slaves to their feet and as he issues orders to them, both Aeolus and Virgil ruefully rub their reddened asses in a vain effort to relieve the throbbing pain they feel. Virgil is ordered back to the kitchen to prepare his master's breakfast while Aeolus and Telemachus are commanded to carry the heavy urn of urine to a nearby fuller.
As he instructs the slaves, two men enter the tavern. One of them carries a set of chains and he asks.
"Are you Soterus, the inn-keeper?"
"I am!" Soterus replies. "What can I do for you?"
"We're here to pick up a slave and to deliver him to Senator Karelius."
"You're earlier than I expected. But no matter." Soterus points to Ovid and says. "That's the slave you have come for."
The moment he'd been dreading has finally arrived. Ovid turns ghostly white and is trembling uncontrollably from apprehension as he falls to his knees and crawls to Soterus' feet and begins to beg.
"Please Domine, don't sell me! I'll be a good slave and serve you faithfully, Domine. Please keep me as your slave, Domine."
Of course, his pleas are ignored and the two men move quickly to secure him. Ovid's wrists are shackled behind his back and a collar and chain-leash is fastened around his neck. The man in charge asks one final question.
"Is there anything to go with the slave?"
"What do you mean?" Soterus asks in reply.
"I mean does the slave have any personal items or clothing to take with him?"
"Personal items!" Soterus sneers. "He's a slave and my slaves own nothing. I own them and they possess nothing. He's an object and just property. No, he goes as he is - stark naked!"
"Very well then, that being all, we'll be on our way!"
Telemachus watches in horror as Ovid is led away to his new master. The reality of slavery is being played out before him. Slaves have no control of their lives and they are subject to the whims of their owners.
He's unaware that he is seeing his future being played out before him for inevitably, one day, he too will be of no further use to Soterus and like Ovid he'll be sold!
To be continued ..........