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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: F/m, BDSM, Suspension Bondage)
Part VI
Flavious cautiously made his way down the darkened halls toward the arena. He knew the way, for each day he was aroused from his sleep and led by a leash outside to be conditioned and exercised. Rubbing the chill from his arms, he regretted not finding some clothes back in Pentesilia’s bedchamber, at least a loincloth to cover himself with, but that was the least of his worries right now. Killing a guard and attacking his trainer would most certainly mean his execution, or worse.
Two women dressed in white silk suddenly approached, and he hid in the shadows, pressing his body up against the stone wall and holding his breath until they passed. Luckily, it was so late in the evening that most everyone was asleep. He still had to get past the guards and cover as much ground through the forest beyond as he could before the Themiscyreans discovered he was missing.
He found the entrance to the arena. Outside, it was cold, but the fresh air felt good against his face. It smelled of freedom. Peering across the empty arena, he saw the main entrance and was surprised to see no guards posted. Could it be this easy? Just a short run across the arena and he would be free?
He stayed in the shadows, his eyes scanning everything around him. As a scout for the Roman army, Flavious learned to always stay alert for any signs of danger. The moon was full, bathing the whole interior in its light. The seats, once filled with spectators were now empty. He saw the platform and the upright posts where, just hours ago, he was bound and whipped. Yes, there seemed to be no danger, but something deep in his gut told him different.
Nonetheless, he had no choice but to test his luck. He emerged from the shadows and out into the moonlight, his eyes darting everywhere like a deer moving tentatively through an open meadow for some grass. He began to jog slowly, then sprinted. As he got to the entrance, he could see the open space beyond, then the forest and mountains in the distance.
He was almost free!
He passed two large columns, then suddenly, felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. As he fell to his knees, four husky female guards emerged from behind the columns and wrestled his body to the ground. Flavious fought back, unwilling to accept defeat, until Queen Marpesia struck him again with her staff. This time, it landed right between the legs. Flavious screamed and covered his balls with both hands to protect them from another blow. The pain was excruciating and it spread outward from his groin area, crippling him. His vision doubled and the world spun sickeningly. His escape attempt had failed, and he was once again at the mercy of the Themiscyreans.
“You are a fool, Roman,” she looked down at him and smiled ruefully. “Did you think you could roam our corridors at will without being seen? And just how far through the forest did you expect to get without any clothes?”
Flavious writhed helplessly in the dirt, his face a mask of shear agony. He couldn’t even speak, much less formulate any words.
“Bind him,” the queen ordered.
The guards rolled him over on his stomach and pulled his arms and legs apart. A five foot steel pole with shackles on the ends was locked around his wrists. An identical pole was then shackled to his feet. Just as he regained his senses, the queen motioned the guards to raise him, and the four women lifted the poles to their shoulders so that Flavious was suspended face down between them, his limbs stretched and the front of his body hanging down low at the center.
He swayed from side to side, his pitiful groans filling the empty arena, as the guards followed their queen back inside, down a long corridor to a large room. In the center of the room, four chains hung down from the high ceiling, each with a pulley and wheel assembly. Without setting him down, they fastened his shackles to the chains and removed the poles, so that he was suspended in the same position, only now from the chains. All four wheels were then turned. The large room echoed with the clinking sounds of the chains coiling against themselves in the reels. Flavious felt a slow steady pull on his arms and legs as he was raised about six feet, his body parallel to the floor and bent downward in a back-breaking arch.
Queen Marpesia stepped closer and inspected the chains. Satisfied that everything was secure, she motioned the guards to leave. Now they were alone, and he noticed the anger in the queen’s face soften a little. She ran her hand along his outer thigh, then Flavious winced as she grabbed his sore balls underneath and kneaded them gently with her fingers.
“After weeks of training, it is regrettable to see such fine male flesh go to waste,” she seemed to be speaking to no one, but Flavious listened quietly, for the Themiscyreans still did not know he could understand their language. Curling her fingers around his cock, she stroked it lightly until it grew stiff again and throbbed in her hand.
“And such a strong muscle too,” she shook her head, “very regrettable.”
Her moment of intimacy with the slave did not last long, for another woman suddenly entered the room. She appeared to be an advisor, or held a position of similar importance.
“My Queen . . .”
“What is it?” she answered without taking her eyes off his cock.
“The guard is dead, but I am pleased to report that Madam Pentesilia recovers.”
“Pleased?” the queen scoffed. “That woman should have had more sense than to let herself be deceived and overpowered so easily. Death would have been kinder, for she will have to be punished severely, and only I can decide how that punishment will be administered.”
“And the slave?” her advisor asked.
At first, Queen Marpesia said nothing. She was still teasing the Roman’s cock, running her fingers expertly over the now rigid body using varying pressure and techniques -- at times, with the tips of her long sharp nails, and at others, grasping it tighter in her hand. She seemed too distracted at the moment to even contemplate her advisor’s query, or she was simply avoiding the obvious answer. Finally, as if waking from a trance, she released him and turned to face the other woman.
“He attacked his trainer, then killed a guard. The law states that he must immediately be put to death.”
“And how will the sentence be carried out? Will it be a public execution?” The tone of the advisor’s voice revealed a hint of excitement that annoyed the queen somewhat. Executions were a popular spectacle among the Themiscyreans, almost as much as the arena games or the auction, but the queen was thinking only of her disappointment with the second decision she had to make -- first, she was losing her best trainer, and now, this magnificent-looking slave.
“Of course it will be a public execution,” the queen answered shortly. “I want everyone to witness this, including all the slaves . . . especially them, for he must be made an example of. But first, I will give him to Madam Skyilla.”
“Skyilla? That butcher? There will not be much left of him to look at when she is finished . . . and the crowd will not be pleased.”
“Damn the crowd! This Roman will not go to the grave knowing he made a mockery of us. When he is brought into the arena again, every ounce of pride and vanity will been drained from his broken body. Madam Skyilla will see to that, then your mob will have its execution.”
“Will he be gelded?”
"That is up the Madam to decide."
Flavious groaned out loud when he heard this, but the two women took little notice of it, thinking it was only the pain of his suspension that drew the outburst.
“My Queen . . .” the advisor paused a moment to change the subject. “We have received further reports on the Roman army advancing toward us. Our scouts estimate they will reach our valley in ten days.”
“That is unfortunate. As poor a race as the Romans my be, they are still much larger in number than any army we could raise.”
"We can fight them in the canyons where we have the advantage.”
“They’ll only send in more legions. Our only hope is to leave this village before they arrive, back across the sea from where we came. I fear there is no longer a future here for our people among these barbarians. Give the order for everyone to start building boats, and remember, time is crucial, so we must work day and night.”
“Yes, my Queen.”
Marpesia’s eyes then turned back to Flavious, who was now pretending to be unconscious, but still listening to every word.
“Perhaps we will leave this one as a parting gift for the Romans when they arrive, though I doubt they will want to keep him after Skyilla is finished.”
(continued)
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