"Come now," the auctioneer said. "Ten denarii is an insult for quality such as this. This young man is fluent in Greek and Latin and trained as a scribe from childhood. He writes both languages in a beautiful hand and knows mathematics. Those skills alone deserve a better bid. And look at this body; they write poems about bodies like this. With him you get a complete package, a slave you can use both day and night."
The bidders had formed a pack around us as we stood on the auction block. The auctioneer's assistants had already pulled off my rags; now they turned me before the crowd.
"Fifteen denarii," came a voice from the crowd.
"Surely you jest," replied the auctioneer. "This one comes untouched by another master. You can train him to suit your own taste."
"You mean he's never learned manners," shouted another voice from the crowd. "If he's free-born and raised, he doesn't know his place."
"He learns fast enough and you can teach him to suit. This one has not been ruined by poor handling."
"Twenty denarii," another voice cried. This one was a woman; she had already purchased other young men and women this morning. One of the slaves had said that she ran a brothel on the wharf and often needed new slaves.
"Look at these legs, this ass," the auctioneer said. "See how healthy he is; ready to satisfy his master's needs. Quality such as this is rare."
He fondled my cock, and I burned in shame. The bids came faster now and from all around me.
"Fifty denarii. Do I hear fifty-five? This is your last chance to own this treasure."
"Sold for fifty denarii!"
I hadn't seen who made the winning bid before the auctioneer's assistants led me off of the block and allowed me to put my rags on again.
"Wait here."
Now I sat alone in the Roman marketplace, surrounded by the bustle and chatter of the crowd, but I did not see them. The merchants called out their wares and the pack animals jingled their harnesses, but I did not hear them. The sunlight was warm on my shoulders, but I was cold inside for I had never thought I would be a slave.
For eighteen years I had been my father's heir, groomed to follow in his business. Mine had been a sheltered and predictable life, filled with work and study. Even my betrothal strengthened my father's alliances. Then disasters struck, each one worse than the one before, and in a few short weeks everything was lost. I had never met my betrothed; now her family refused me. When the creditors moved in, I quickly went from my father's heir to an asset for my father's estate. With my father dead and my family dispersed, I was truly alone.
At last, a man dressed as a steward came and bade me follow him. We walked through the city to a large and sumptuous villa, where I learned that I had been purchased by a wealthy Roman merchant. The steward led me down to the servants' bath.
"Pull off his rags," he ordered the slaves. I struggled, but one slave restrained me while another ripped my clothes from me. They held me still while the steward examined me as you might examine a prized racehorse. The lust in his eyes made me cover myself in embarrassment. He smacked my ass and said "Take your hands away! You are here for your master's pleasure; cover yourself in his presence and you will feel his wrath soon enough!"
With that he ran his hands down my body and tweaked my flaccid cock. He forced open my mouth to examine my teeth, roughly probed my arms and legs and weighed my nuts in his hands. I struggled to hold still as he examined me. "Underneath the dirt you are an attractive little morsel. Too bad the master wants you delivered to his chamber untouched."
The caravan master who delivered me to auction had said something similar, but I didn't really understand what they meant.
The steward squeezed my nuts as he said, "Your master expects passion and obedience from his slaves. You would be wise to keep him happy. I run his household. You would be wise to keep me happy also."
I shivered at his words and at his look, for he was not a kind man. Finally, he ordered the slaves to prepare me and departed.
The rest of the day was a blur of baths and scrapers and oils. At the end, I found myself alone in my master's chambers. I looked around curiously at the elaborate decorations. The room was luxurious, with statues resting in niches and a silk carpet covering the floor. There was a large bed in the middle of the room and a couch against the far wall. I curled my toes in the carpet, reveling in the softness against my feet. The artwork suggested a man of culture, and the classic scrolls on the table told me that my master was well read. I had read some of those scrolls myself; they brought back memories of a happier time.
One wall was covered with brightly colored frescoes. I moved over to examine them more closely and blushed at the scenes they portrayed. I had no experience with sex; my betrothed had lived far away, and I had concentrated on learning my father's trade. The men and women in the paintings were having sex in ways and positions that I had not known were possible. Of course I had heard that some men were attracted to other men, but I had never seen two men joined together. I was fascinated to see them sucking each other's cocks, wrapped together in ardor. I had never known that women might feel passion for each other, but here they were shown kissing and intimately touching each other.
Other pictures seemed to have nothing to do with sex. They showed men and women bound with chains or rope; whips striking them, clamps biting into their flesh, mouths gagged. Some of them were shown aroused as the whips struck them. Surely this was artist's fancy; how could such treatment provide pleasure? I thought perhaps these scenes were warning for what could they have to do with passion.
I felt an arm wrap around me, a body press against me as a voice whispered in my ear. "Do you like what you see on my wall?"
I jumped and whirled to look at the man behind me. I had not heard him enter and my heart pounded in my chest. He was a tall man of middle age, with graying hair and a distinguished look. I thought that at one time he must have been very fit, but now was beginning to soften. He turned me around so that I faced the pictures again, his arms wrapped around me, hands stroking my chest. "I asked if you like what you see on my wall."
"I don't understand all that I see on your wall."
He followed my gaze to the scenes with the whips and laughed. "You will not experience everything you see on this wall tonight. We will start slowly with you; introduce you gently to your purpose."
He pointed to a picture of a man bent over the edge of a couch as another man entered him from behind. "That one you will enjoy often for it offers marvelous penetration and control, but not tonight. Tonight I want to look in your eyes as I take you for the first time, watch as you reflect what you feel."
I couldn't understand what he was saying. Perhaps the hints had been there, but did he mean to take me in to his bed tonight? Was this why I was here? The steward's words and the caravan master's; they made sense now. I felt a growing knot of apprehension as I understood what was about to happen to me and wondered how I would survive it.
He pointed to another scene showing three men together. "This one you may never experience. I am a jealous lover and don't like to share, at least not at first. Be warned that if I ever catch you with another without my permission, you will be punished." I wondered if that warning extended to the steward, understanding now what the steward would take from me if he could.
He pointed to a third scene, one I hadn't noticed before. It showed a young man kneeling on the floor in front of another man, a cock disappearing down his throat. The young man had one hand wrapped around the cock in his mouth while the other held the other man's testicles. "This is where we will start."
I looked at the pictures and wondered how it would feel when my master entered me. It felt strange to have a man hold me in his arms, stranger to feel him caressing me. His hands felt good as they moved over my body but I was afraid of what I saw in the pictures. Pressed against him, I felt him begin to stir.
