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WARNING! THIS IS A WORK OF EROTIC BDSM FICTION. IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website. You must obtain the author's permission prior to posting.
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A Beggar’s Tale
by Night Owl
(Story Content: FF/m, Abduction, Bondage, Slavery)
Part I
"Greetings sir, could you be so kind as to drop a few coppers into my tin . . . No? Oh please, I implore you. Think not of me as a beggar, but of a poor wretch who has suffered greatly in his long life. Notice my back. How bent over it is. And my legs, so horribly mangled they are, that I must use these two canes just to walk a short distance and . . . what? Three coppers? Oh, thank you! Your generosity will help ease the pain as I make my long journey to Rome.
“That is where I am from, you know, and since my youth, I have spent most of my days on earth traveling throughout our great empire. I have been as far east as Persia and stood on the ruins of ancient Troy, and Britania to the west, where savage tribes harass our Roman legions beyond the great wall. Yes, I have seen and experienced much in my long life, in spite of my disfigurement.
“In fact, if you have the time, and perhaps a few more coins for my cup, I can tell you a story that I heard during one of my travels. That is my trade you know, storytelling, and the tale I have in mind is about a bloody war between our Roman army and a remote tribe to the northeast dominated entirely by women. Yes, woman -- beautiful, exotic and fierce in battle. I know you will find this story intriguing, even disturbing. If you do not agree with me when I am finished, then you owe me nothing. What do you say? Yes? Very good! Come sit with me on this marble bench.
“Before I begin, I must first tell you about this strange tribe of women, and how they came to be . . .”
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When the world was still in its infancy, a great cataclysm destroyed the ancient kingdom of Atlantis “in a single day and night of misfortune”, as described by the Greek philosopher, Plato, and it sent smaller civilizations scattering throughout the land. These civilizations became wandering tribes of savages and reverted to using flint to battle for their lives against the myriads of beasts that inhabited the region.
One such tribe, thrived in the mountains north of the Black Sea about 700 years before the time of Herodotus. According to Greek myth, these strange beings, called Amazons, were an all-female society of fierce warriors, who flourished by mating with the men of neighboring tribes for their own offspring, while sending the male infants away.
The Amazons adopted the warlike culture of the hunter and the warrior. When a woman gave birth to a girl, they would sear the right breast of the infant. This allowed them to wield the bow more effectively without being hindered by their right breasts when releasing the bowstrings. The Greek historian, Herodotus, wrote of these strange women, describing them as “an exotic and lethal race of one-breasted military dervishes.” In more recent accounts, they dropped this savage ritual, preferring instead, to lace a band of leather, called a mamillare, tightly around the breasts to contain them before going into battle.
Now there were many tribes that flourished within the Amazon race. One them, the Themiscyreans, you might recall, fought the Argonauts in the Greek tale, The Iliad. Their downfall came when they joined King Priam of Troy in their war against the Greeks. When that great city fell, so did Themiscyra, sending the remaining survivors scattering throughout the region once again, as their ancestors were centuries ago.
One sliver group found themselves in the land of The Scythians and soon began raiding and looting their villages. The Scythians were also skilled in horsemanship and archery, and out of respect for the women warriors, called them Oior-pata, which means “man-slayers”. They began courting the Amazons in their desire to mate and produce children by such amazing women. This interbreeding succeeded, but the Themiscyreans refused to settle down with the Scythians, where the women stayed at home in their wagons, occupied with female tasks. They invited some of the Scythians to go off with them to a new place. Very little is known as to what happened to these Amazon women after that. Some say they were bred out, others claim their whole existence is nothing but a myth.
It wasn’t until the time of our great emperor, Caesar Augustus, that the Romans became aware of a mysterious race of women that lived far to the north past the great desert near the Eastern Sea. Visiting traders told fantastic stories of a culture where the females dominated every hierarchy of their society, while the men were scorned and treated like animals. Under tribal law, all prisoners were castrated and forced to live out their lives in servitude. A few of the more viral men were spared this painful torture, and set aside for special breeding or to fulfill the sexual appetites of their female captors.
The Emperor Augustus was convinced this mysterious tribe was a direct descendant of the Themiscyreans and the mythical Amazons. He wanted to bring these pure-blood female warriors under Roman rule, and perhaps recruit them in his legions. Scouting parties were sent out into the vast uncharted desert to find out for themselves if such a tribe existed. They were an elite group of horseman, the best in the legion, and their skills with a sword were unmatched. Their mission was to locate the Themiscyrean village without being detected, gather any information as to the size of their army, their strengths and weaknesses, and report back to the emperor. An army would then be raised and sent to confront these warrior women, and if necessary, defeat them in battle.
One such party, crossed the northern part of the desert to a small, remote village called Mycinia. There they found an old man who claimed he was once captured by a tribe of women, and spent most of his adulthood as a slave until he finally escaped. He showed the Romans how his balls had been removed, and other scars left from years of torture and abuse. When the Romans ordered him to serve as their scout, he refused, even when he was placed under the sword.
“I would rather die now,” he said, “then go back there again.”
So the Romans continued on northward in an attempt to re-trace the old man’s journey, only to be faced with a range of cliffs that stood before them like an impassable rampart. After many days of searching, they found a river and followed it to the mouth of a narrow canyon. The Roman commander, Scafious, knew that venturing into the canyon could place his men at a disadvantage if they were attacked, but there was no other way past the cliffs, so the small army proceeded cautiously.
A single scout had been sent ahead of the group. His name was Flavious, a young warrior who had yet to experience the taste of battle, yet possessed sharp eyes and a keen wit. He also served as their interpreter, and was fluent in sixteen languages and dialects.
The young scout moved slowly on his horse, his eyes constantly scanning the scenery around him, and searching his gut for any signs of danger. Then he stopped. The inside of the canyon was strangely quiet, not even a single bird to announce his presence. Flavious could not tell how or why, but something was wrong. He stood up in his stirrups and began to alert the others, when suddenly, the air was filled with the whistling of arrows. Each Roman horse was hit with three or more fatal shots at once. Several riders were also struck and killed before they even knew what was happening. Instinctively, the Romans drew their swords and formed a tight circle to defend themselves, only to be forced to break rank and run for cover as another shower of arrows and spears fell upon them. Flavious also felt his own mount slowly sinking to the ground and quickly rolled off with his weapon in hand. Hiding behind a large rock, he quickly scanned the cliffs above for any signs of the enemy.
Then he saw her – a tall dark-haired woman brandishing a javelin. She was naked, save for a type of loincloth that hung low around her hips by a leather cord decorated with colored beads. A piece of leather flowed between her long legs in front and back. Her upper arms were adorned with gold armlets, a necklace made of animal teeth around her throat.
Flavious watched in admiration, as the woman climbed upon a rock. Her light bronze skin, obviously covered with some type of oil, glimmered in the sun. Her pointed breasts hung high off her ribs. She saw Flavious, raised her javelin above her shoulder and let it fly. Instinctively, he jumped to the side and barely avoided the spear by mere inches. Then the woman was gone.
Flavious was sure this was the tribe they were looking for, but instead of conquering them, the Romans were in the midst of defeat. Some caught glimpses of their adversaries as they dodged the rocks above, and they too, were astonished at what they saw. The army was made up entirely of women, scantily clad in animal skins and armed with spears or bows. The Romans fought hard, but they were heavily outnumbered and the few that survived the attack were forced to retreat out of the narrow passageway and back into the desert. As Flavious rushed to join his comrades, a figure darted out from behind a rock and struck him squarely behind the head, knocking the young scout completely unconscious.
He was the only survivor taken during that battle. When he came to, he found himself surrounded by dozens of woman, all quite striking in appearance. They were tall, lean and darkened by the desert sun, yet still very feminine-looking. Like the javelin-thrower he saw in battle, the animal skins they wore permitted just enough coverage for female modesty, and leggings laced up to the knees to protect them from the thorny plants that grew in the area. Some of the women had leopard hides donned on their heads, others were even lightly-armored.
They grabbed Flavious and took him to their commander for inspection. She was taller than the others, statuesque, and strapped to her naked thigh was bloodied Roman sword.
"This one has a fine physique, very well proportioned," the commander observed. Their language was of the ancient Scythian dialect, and being an interpreter, Flavious was able understand most of the words spoken about him.
"Strip him," she ordered.
The warrior bitches forced Flavious to lie on his back while his armor and clothing where pulled off and discarded. He struggled desperately to break free of their hold, but there were too many of them. They pulled his arms and legs apart and held him down with his limbs stretched tight so he couldn’t move. The young Roman was completely defenseless and stripped of almost all of his clothing. The only garment that remained was a simple loincloth, called a subligar, that stretched tightly over his groin area, and then up between the buttocks. Everyone was awestruck at the sight of this magnificent-looking male lying spread-eagled and sweating before them in the hot sun. He had a very lean and well-chiseled form - ridged abdominals, well-defined squarish pecs, and moderately muscled elsewhere. Unlike the other Roman soldiers, he wasn't a "bear" or brute, but a young healthy man, and there was no arguing the fact that his endowments were much larger. The women warriors immediately took notice of this, which may have been what saved him from the immediate fate his comrades had suffered.
As they held him down, the commander knelt down between his legs for a closer look. Flavious felt a familiar tingle in his loins, and much to his dismay, his cock began to swell quite noticeably against the undergarment. He struggled, twisting his tormented body this way and that, but his actions only seemed to fuel the excitement of all the women watching.
He watched helplessly as the leader slid the blade of her steely knife under each leg hole of his subligar to cut it. She then took hold of the garment with one hand and pulled it roughly away from his body. The young Roman was now completely nude, his captive limbs stretched taut and pinned down against the dusty earth. There was an appreciative murmur from the group, as they were now given a superb view of his young manhood. The commander proceeded to examine him. Taking his balls in one hand first, she palpated them firmly between her fingers.
"His gonads are quite large for his physical size, as well as his cock."
She then turned her attention to the muscled organ, which again, sprang to life as she stroked it.
"Mmmmmmm, and very responsive!"
Flavious was totally bewildered now. Under normal circumstances he would be enjoying this attention from such knowing female hands. But he was a prisoner now, being degraded openly in front of his captors. He did not want to appear weak in any way, or to accept the sensations he was feeling, but his body had already betrayed him.
"The foreskin has been removed. I did not know these Romans were capable of performing such a delicate ritual. It does improve his appearance, unfortunately it will deprive our trainer the opportunity of removing it herself."
She released him and stood up.
"Turn him over."
Together the women rolled Flavious onto his flat stomach. His arms and legs were pulled apart again. The commander lifted her foot and placed it squarely on the right cheek of his buttocks, and the young Roman grimaced as she leaned into him with all of her weight, pressing the front of his pelvis into the soft earth.
"The cheeks are quite firm, too." She observed while rubbing her heel into his flesh. "He'll do."
They turned him over onto his back again. Flavious tried to remain calm but he remembered the shrunken scrotum of the old man in the village, and not surprisingly, was petrified at the thought of having to face a similar fate. The commander looked him and smiled as though she knew exactly what he was thinking.
"Fear not, young beast, for you will not be mutilated. We have far more fitting plans for one such as you."
Keeping his limbs stretched tightly apart, they laid two long poles on either side of him and tied his wrists and ankles to the poles with leather thongs. Then four women took hold of each of the ends and lifted the poles onto their shoulders. His body was now slung between them and they carried him off into the brush as though he were prize game from a hunt.
The journey back to the Amazon village was a long and difficult one for the young captive. Drenched in his own sweat and covered with dust from the trail, his outstretched body swayed back and forth helplessly as the pole bearers made their way through the rocky canyon. Behind him, there were low whispers and giggles among the female soldiers. He could almost feel their eyes, gawking and appraising the organs that were now exposed in his gaping crotch. Flavious wished he could bring his arms and legs together but the pole-bearers deliberately kept themselves spaced apart, depriving him of any relief from his shame.
There was no questioning now, that this was the lost tribe his emperor, Augustus Caesar, had sent them to find. Flavious recalled stories of how these woman cut the right breast of each newborn infant to make them better archers, though he saw no evidence of this among his captors. In fact, many of the warrior bitches he saw took pride in displaying their endowments quite openly by wearing animal skins that revealed much of them. Only the archers showed restraint, by wearing a type of leather garment that kept their tits pressed tightly against the chest so they would not catch in the bowstrings when released.
When they reached the village, the prisoner was paraded in a circle to allow everyone a chance to see him at close quarters. Then the poles were set on four posts and he was left hanging alone in the middle of the village square before the excited, mostly female crowd. Several of the leaders approached and a full inspection was conducted. Fingers probed every inch of his body for any physical weaknesses - his hands, feet, and teeth were checked, his nipples were twisted and pulled, his ball sack was lifted and each of his testicles individually handled. The leaders voiced their approval at the size of his cock and how quickly it became erect when stimulated. As each of the women repeated the process, Flavious could do nothing but submit to their attentions, feeling totally degraded by his plight.
Then one of the leaders spoke to the crowd,
"Since the period of our ancients, it has been written into law that all men are inferior by design and by history. Their very existence should be tolerated only to fulfill one function, and that is to serve our needs and desires, for that is all they are capable of. The law must be strictly enforced so that the purity of our race can be maintained, the strength of our people unchallenged. The prisoner that hangs before you is Roman. Observe how weak his is, when stripped of his armor and sword. For centuries, other man-tribes have tried to invade the sanctity of our realm. They failed miserably. Now this one will pay for his people's transgressions by forfeiting his freedom to us."
Cheers followed until their leader silenced them with one raised hand. She then turned to Flavious and spoke to him, surprisingly in his Roman language so he could understand,
"You are now a slave of our people and shall be treated as such. You will be given a number by us, and you shall be called by that number until you have earned a new slave name."
A metal pot hanging on a pole was carried over from the fire. An iron was then placed into the pot and left to rest on the glowing coals inside.
"Now you will be branded to befit your new status."
She took the glowing red iron and applied it to the left side of his buttocks, leaving a slave insignia permanently burned into his skin. Pain, blinding white pain followed, but Flavious managed to keep his senses and not show any weakness by crying out.
"This is the number you will answer to. Forget your old name, for you shall never hear nor speak it again."
Flavious was then carried from the cheering throng of people to the entrance of a cave. Pain and exhaustion finally took their toll on the fallen warrior and his mind faded into merciful unconsciousness as they descended the dark, narrow steps.
(continued)
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