Nova Baiae Chapter Five The Tavern
This is a story of erotic fiction meant to be read by adults over the age of eighteen years or over the legal age of their place of residence.
Posted by Jean-Christophe: May, 2019
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"The characters and ideas contained in this story are products of the writer's imagination and bear no resemblance to actual persons or events. Please respect the integrity of the story and don't do any rewrites, make alterations or add another's artwork or pictures"
N.B. I regret the loss of my blogs when tumblr suddenly changed the rules regarding the adult content of their site last December. And more specifically with the loss of contact with my followers. Currently, I am trialing a new blog called "Slaves through the Ages" along similar lines to the deleted ones. If interested it can be found at http://slvtoby2011.blogspot.com/
The Tavern:
I make my way downstairs into the tavern and I am surprised to see that, even at this early hour, it is full of patrons. I look around for an empty table but all are taken and in the room's gloom, I can't see an empty chair. The room is dimly lit by oil lamps which caste flickering shadows on the colorful murals decorating every conceivable inch of the rendered walls. The murals can best be described as obscene even by the relaxed standards of the ones I am used to on the mainland. But here, obviously no restrictions apply and all have a common theme - bawdy homosexuality. All pay homage to the rampant penis, the willing ass and the hungry mouth and I chuckle at the bodily contortions of the practitioners. Quite obviously, the artists have taken 'artistic license' in portraying their subjects indulging in all manner of erotic fantasies.
I see Aeolus serving at a table and, as he leans over to place a tankard on the table, one of the men gropes his naked ass. Of course, he stands docilely as his ass is fingered and his cock is stroked. I hear the man ask.
"You like that, don't you, boy!"
"Yes Master! Very much so, Master!" Aeolus answers in the only way that he can. He can't show displeasure or distaste. He must endure any and all indignities his master's customers care to heap upon him. Another man at the table tells his friends.
"I fucked this slave two days ago. Best two asses I ever spent. He's tight assed and gives a good fuck. Ain't that right, slave?"
"Yes Master! I try to please, Master. Thank you, Master!"
The man loses interest in Aeolus and delivers a stinging slap to his buttocks. It reverberates around the room and momentarily halts conversation.
"Run along, boy! Get back to your duties!"
"Yes Master! Thank you Master." The slave replies and quickly moves away to attend a group at another table.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and pause to look around and I see another slave enter from the kitchen and carry a plate of food to a man sitting alone at a table in a far corner. The slave takes my breath away. He is sheer physical perfection. His age is probably about twenty and he is tall, blond, blue-eyed and has the physique of a Greek god. He is in every sense a 'head-turner' and as he walks away from me I study his powerful body from the rear. His broad shoulder taper down to a trim, narrow waist and the delightful curves of his pert buttocks sit atop his strong, muscular thighs. And like Aeolus, his ass, too, is striped by the cane or the whip. The sight causes me to catch my breath.
"Quite something, isn't he Rhodri?" Soterus asks.
I'd not noticed Soterus' approach and so his question takes me by surprise.
"Indeed he is, Soterus! He's a fine slave. Aeolus mentioned that you had two slaves other than him. I take it this is one of the two?"
"Yes, Rhodri, that is my slave Ovid. I bought him along with Aeolus and another slave, Virgil the same day. They were part of a shipment of new slaves brought over from the mainland. By the way Rhodri, how did my other slave perform? Did he give you any reason for complaint?"
"Not at all, Soterus! The slave proved most adept and more than satisfactory. He left nothing to be desired."
"Excellent! I'm pleased to hear it and I won't have to punish him for dereliction of duty. Mind you, not that I need any excuse to punish my slaves. I do so routinely as a matter of course. It keeps them on their toes and eager to please."
"I noticed that Aeolus had a striped ass just as Ovid does."
"Ahh! It's routine Rhodri. I whip their asses on the slightest pretense. But as you can see, the tavern is busy tonight and I guess you are hungry. Let me find a place for you and I'll have a slave bring a meal to you."
I thank Soterus and yes, he is correct. I am very hungry and I follow him to the table in far corner where Ovid is serving a solitary diner.
"Casca, my old friend," Soterus asks the middle-aged man, "would you mind sharing your table with my young guest Rhodri? He is from the mainland and has come to our island to see how we live."
"Not at all, Soterus!" Casca replies pleasantly. "I'll be glad of the company. Please pull up a chair, Rhodri and join me in a drink." Then turning to Ovid he impatiently orders him to "Boy, fetch Master Rhodri a tankard and pour him a drink. Be quick about it or I'll ask your Master to cane your lazy ass!"
As Ovid scampers away, I draw up a chair on the opposite side of the table to Casca and as I sit, I notice for the first time, a slave lying on the floor at Casca's feet. The slave is lying on his belly with his head resting on his hands in an uncomfortable imitation of a dog at rest. He wears a heavy leather, spiked collar and leash around his neck, one end of which is tied to a leg of the table. He is fitted with leather knee-pads and his hands and feet are enclosed in leather mittens do doubt intended to protect him as he crawls on all fours.
As I sit, the dog-slave - for obviously that is what he is - shows an interest in me. He lifts his head and his sad, doglike eyes stare up into my face. Embarrassed I avert my gaze. Then, surreptitiously, he slides forward on his belly and sniffs at my feet. Because I'm wearing shorts and sandals my legs are bare and obviously, I met with his approval as he begins to lick my leg. The touch of his moist tongue on my bare flesh isn't unpleasant but I am nonplussed by the slave's attention. Without warning, Casca leans forward and slaps the slave's ass as he commands the dog-slave to.
"Stop that, Rufus!"
Rufus yelps at his master's slap and quickly backs away from my leg as Casca apologizes to me.
"I'm sorry, Rhodri! Please excuse my pet. He seems to have taken quite a fancy to you judging by the look of his cock. RUFUS SIT!"
The chastened dog scrambles into position. He sits on his haunches with his encased knuckles pressed to the floor in front of him. The position, while quite normal for a real dog, is unnatural for a human and places great stress on his musculature and gives me an unimpeded view of his hirsute body. He is powerfully built with a broad chest and flat, firm belly and these are accentuated by his deep, rhythmic breathing. The tension placed on his arms highlights his bulging biceps and the powerful muscles of his haunch and shoulders.
His alabaster white skin is like rare porcelain. It complements the shock of dark-red curls that crown his head, the grey-green of his eyes and the full red lips that promise so much. His chest is generously covered with a fine mat of reddish hair and a matching treasure-trail bisects his ribbed abdomen and leads my eyes to the luxuriant red pubes that surround his genitals. The slave is generously endowed and his cock, which is rampantly erect, pokes out at an angle from his groin. His genitals are encircled by a wide metal band on which is engraved his owner's name and address. I watch as his prick twitches and note the small pearl of precum glistening at his piss-slit. Obviously, the dog-slave is excited and if Casca is to be believed, then I am the cause of that excitement. The idea isn't that distasteful to me.
The most notable thing about the dog-slave is his overt masculinity and his strong physique. Obviously, these are prerequisites that Casca requires of his pet. The term 'a man's dog' springs to mind. Rufus is in every sense a man's dog-slave. I am fascinated by the concept that a slave can be used in this way. It's highly arousing and I feel my cock responding to the erotic fantasy of owning such a 'pet'.
My thoughts are interrupted by Ovid's return with a pitcher of wine. As he leans across the table to pour wine into my goblet, Soterus pats his rump affectionately before slipping a finger into the deep cleft between his slave's ass-cheeks. Ovid knows what is expected of him and he wriggles his ass into position and pushes back against his master's finger allowing him easier access into the 'inner sanctum' of his body.
"How many times were you fucked today, slave?"
"Five times, Master. Three times in the ass and my mouth was used twice, Master."
"And your ass is still tight as a drum. Good boy!"
"Thank you. Master!"
"Rhodri, what do you think of my slave, Ovid? He's a handsome brute isn't he?"
"He's beautiful, Soterus."
The word beautiful seems almost inappropriate to describe Ovid who, like Aeolus - as yet I've not seen the third slave, Virgil - is the epitome of young, male beauty. Ovid has honey-gold skin with closely cropped blond hair and, as I'd already noted, he has startlingly blue-eyes and red, sensuous lips. Like Rufus, his musculature is most pronounced but unlike the dog-slave, his torso and limbs are free of any body hair. I wonder at this disparity in their appearance. Obviously, some owners prefer their slaves to be hairy while others opt for the glabrous look. After all, a slave's appearance reflects his master's preferences.
"He is indeed a beautiful, sturdy animal, Rhodri. And you aren't the only one to think so. Our mutual friend, Karelius is quite taken with him. Since I purchased him, he has made numerous offers to buy the slave. In the past I resisted all his attempts but he has finally worn me down and I have agreed to sell Ovid to him."
Ovid's surprise at the unexpected news that he has been sold causes a slight tremor to ripple through his magnificent body and I sense his mounting concern. I suppose no slave likes to be sold; after all the master you know is better than the one you don't know. I wonder why Commodus is so anxious to own this particular slave. After all, I'd seen his litter-bearers earlier and all of them without exception are the equal of Ovid.
"Why has Karelius bought your slave, Soterus?"
"To indulge his current fad for golden haired slaves, Rhodri. Currently, Karelius' preference is for sturdy, blond slaves to carry his litter and to pull his pony-trap around his latifundium. Incrementally, he is replacing all his non-blond litter-bearers with blonds."
Soterus' words about Karelius' current fad rings true. Commodus had told me as much on the wharf earlier when he'd mentioned his new purchase of a blond, blue-eyed slave.
"So the slave is to become one of Karelius' litter-bearers." I reply. "I saw his litter-bearers earlier on the wharf. From what I saw, Ovid's future will be one of hard, physical labor."
"Indeed it will be, Rhodri. But the slave is a strongly built brute and I have no doubts he'll be equal to the task that Karelius demands of him. But Karelius is notorious for changing his preferences in slaves. Quite likely, within a few months, his preference will change again and Ovid and his fellow litter-bearers will be replaced and they will be consigned to work in Karelius' fields - or worse - in his stone quarry."
I sense Ovid's inner turmoil at the news that he has been sold and of the bleak future that awaits him as one of Karelius' hapless slaves. Nevertheless, he shows no emotion; his fear of incurring his Master's wrath is too great. He has no other alternative and must accept the fate his masters decide is in their best interests.
"Are you going to replace him, Soterus?" Casca asks.
"Of course! I'll buy a replacement slave from among the new shipment that arrived from the mainland this afternoon. I intend to visit the slave-pens to look over the new stock. Casca, as you know, I replace my slaves with fresh ones every two years to keep my patrons happy so selling Ovid at this early stage does upset my routine. But Commodus' offer was too good to refuse and I can live with that."
Soterus' statement that he replaces his slaves every two years comes as a surprise. My thoughts turn to Aeolus and I wonder what will become of him when he has served at the tavern for two years. For some reason I need to know and I ask.
"What becomes of your slaves when you sell them, Soterus? Do you send them to the slave-market?"
"No Rhodri! I sell them by private treaty to my good friend, Pullo who owns and operates a male brothel in the next street. He buys my slaves and uses them as 'whore-slaves' until they are worn out or he needs to replace them with new stock. When that happens, his rejects are sold in the slave-market. Invariably, they are bought as heavy duty draft slaves and used to pull a plow or a wagon until they drop."
Soterus' words are dispassionate and devoid of any sentiment for the helpless slaves whose futures he dismisses so lightly. I consider the bleakness of Aeolus' future and I am strangely unsettled by it. However, I am a guest in Nova Baiae and it is no concern of mine how its inhabitants treat their slaves. Indeed, it would be bad-mannered of me to voice my concerns for Aeolus or any other slave.
Almost as though he is reading my mind, Casca asks the question.
"When does Karelius assume ownership of the slave?"
"Karelius has agreed to allow the slave to remain with me until I buy his replacement. After that, I will have him delivered to Karelius' townhouse. But I must be about my business, Casca. I'll leave you to entertain Rhodri and to give him more information on life on Nova Baiae."
"I'm happy to oblige, Soterus. I'll enjoy talking to our young visitor from the mainland."
Soterus slips his finger from Ovid's ass and orders him back to work.
"Slave, hurry to the kitchen and fetch a bowl of hot food and some bread for Master Rhodri. And be quick about it! Oh, and one other thing, boy. When you finish work tonight, you are to report to Master Rhodri's room in case he wants to use you."
Once more, I am overwhelmed by Soterus' generosity in allowing me to use one of his slaves. And the prospect of using Ovid is not one to be missed. I blurt out my thanks to Sotericus.
"Thank you Soterus! You are indeed a genuine host. I will certainly avail myself of your generous offer."
"Think nothing of it, Rhodri! All I ask is that you dismiss the slave and send him to the kitchen before dawn. He has ovens to light and other duties to perform before we open."
Soterus moves towards the bar where some patrons are noisily drinking and talking. Suddenly, I am left alone with Casca and his dog-slave, Rufus.
To be continued ....................