From an ancient world of masters and slaves.
A story of magic and lust.
Image – author unknown
It was the day my husband came back from putting down the rebellion in the north. He is a high ranking officer in the legion and we were having a little dinner celebration and orgy to celebrate his return after being away for 6 months. There were about 20 of us altogether; mainly close friends, but also some of my husband’s army colleagues and even one or two local civic dignitaries.
It was late August and the evenings were still very warm and muggy. We dined in the room next to the inner patio on the ground floor. The air is fresher there with an occasionally merciful breeze. The courtyard has a large fountain in the middle with a statue of Eros with an enormous phallus doing with what gods always do with their phalli in these circumstances, which of course makes it the perfect setting for an orgy.
We have a large villa on the coast. It’s about a 30 minute horse ride heading south from the city on the Via Trionfale. When my husband is absent – which is frequently – the daily running of the house and the farmland around it keep me more than occupied. I have a dozen or so household slaves to help me and, dare I say it, keep me amused.
I must also tell you that I am a very sensual and physical person and I love sex in all its forms. It is my passion and I believe anyone – man or woman – who does not enjoy the pleasures of the flesh is not really alive. I have two female pleasure slaves who attend to my daily needs and my husband knows – and approves – of my affairs with the opposite sex. He has told me there is very little he likes better than to watch me fuck or be fucked senseless by some good looking Adonis only to return to his powerful arms and submit to his even more powerful lust.
My husband is a stocky, dark skinned southerner with lively twinkling brown eyes which often betray his ribald sense of humor, his lightning wit and his love of practical jokes. He is tall, very fit and a fine soldier whose bravery in battle has earned him a reputation both as a commander of men and as a fearless warrior. Judging by the comments made to me from those who have fought with him he is absolutely adored by his men.
He is passionate and very hot tempered but also the kindest and most considerate man I have ever met. He has an enormous lust for life – it’s one of the things I love most about him – and a raging sexual appetite which more or less matches my own. A sensualist, like myself, he takes his pleasure whenever and wherever he finds it. When he is home it is not uncommon for us to share a pretty young man or girl in our bed at night and I cannot imagine what he gets up to while he’s away. Not that I think about that much. I have more than enough to occupy my mind – and my sex – when he’s gone.
Make no mistake we are very much in love. These past two years of marriage have been the happiest of my life and whenever he is away defending us against the barbarian hordes in the north I pray the gods every day for his safe return. It may be a cliché but he really is my rock. I might be the Mistress of the house but he is definitely the Master. I live for him and would surrender all for him were it ever asked of me.
He is very affectionate and always returns from the wars with some little gift or trinket for me. The house is full of paintings and statues he’s acquired on his excursions – jewellery, priceless vases, precious ornaments and especially statues of women with bountiful breasts and men with very large cocks – which he knows I like. Last time it was some ancient pornographic art from the east. The etchings had been drawn on papyrus and were incredibly delicate and rare. They were extraordinarily beautiful and very arousing. I keep them locked up in the library. I had to have some special transparent glass casings made for them in the capital. And believe me that kind of thing doesn’t come cheap.
But what he brought home for me this night was very different. It was beautiful, breathtaking and – how shall I put it? – the most stimulating, and even fruitful, of all his gifts to me.
It was also the gift that expressed his love for me more than any other.
We’d just finished dessert. The servants, whom, in anticipation of the orgy I’d ordered to wait upon the guests in their collars and cuffs but otherwise naked, had withdrawn the dishes and were refilling our goblets for the toast. My husband began tapping his goblet with a fork and we all fell silent for his speech.
“My friends, my colleagues, my countrymen,” he commenced, looking like the typical military man, standing almost to attention with his chest out and his back very straight. His tunic was open at the front and my eyes couldn’t help but revel in the tanned curvaceous smoothness of his firm muscular chest. The tunic was short, in the latest fashion, and the tops of his thighs were plainly visible to me, even from the other end of the table.
We’d made love that afternoon, immediately upon his return. It had been with a passion that was violent and demoniacal. Both of us possessed of a hunger for the other’s flesh that prolonged absence had wrought insatiable to the point of danger and recklessness. I’d had to call the carpenter afterwards to fix the bed and I’m afraid to say quite a few of the bedroom ornaments suffered breakages including at least one priceless vase.
And now here I was again lusting at his thighs. Needing to feel that solid trunk of oh so hungry man-cock grinding away inside me, being devoured from within and utterly consumed from without.
I suddenly felt quite flushed. Gods it was so hot tonight. My robe was clinging to me. I wanted to take it off and feel the cool air caressing my skin; little wisps of breeze like kisses on my breasts, my ass bare for kisses and spanks and my sex open and free and hungry and lusty.
The orgy didn’t commence until midnight. All the guests had to strip then. Another 15 minutes. I wasn’t sure I could wait even that long.
“How good it is to be home at last.”
My husband was still speaking though I’d rather lost track of what he’d been saying. I reached for my wine and took a gulp. Try and concentrate. It won’t be long now. “
“Home to our families and friends and our lovers and our wives. Let us drink and give thanks to the gods for the victories which they have bestowed upon us and for bringing us safely home.”
We all cheered and raised our goblets to drink.
“To the gods!”
The wine was delicious by the way. From our own vineyard.
“And most importantly of all may it also please the assembled company to drink to the Mistress of this house, the organizer of this festivity and the woman whom I love more than I love life itself. A woman whose beauty always astounds me and whose love gives me reason to fight and to live. Ladies and gentlemen, my wife.”
They raised their goblets and I blushed. Genuinely moved.
“And now the stars above us are shining brightly,” my husband continued, “The gods are smiling down upon us and the night is still young and full of promise.”
He paused a moment as if to consider his words.
“And I wonder what gifts and pleasures the gods may still have in store for us this night.”
And then he looked straight at me and winked.
Before I had a chance to ponder the significance of that gesture, Julius, my husband’s adjutant and closest friend, entered the room and bent down to whisper something in his ear. There was a nod from my husband and Julius gave a signal to someone behind the open door. Then the most astonishing thing happened. Two burly centurions entered the room and everyone gasped. Between them and supported by them, was a young man who’d been chained and gagged. He was quite naked.
I must confess the first thing I noticed about him was how well endowed he was. But the rest of him was rather enchanting to look at too. He had locks of long dark golden hair and eyes of piercing blue He was in his mid to late twenties I’d guess, with a slim youthful waist but quite muscular thighs and arms and a lithe finely chiseled torso. Perhaps the physique of a young gladiator or an athlete. He was also very tanned. All over. Ass too. He either spent a lot of time naked or my husband’s men had kept him that way deliberately. As he was chained I presumed him to be a barbarian prisoner and I wondered for a moment of all the reasons why my husband might want to bring a captured and possibly dangerous enemy soldier – attractive though he may be – into my dining room.
Then I remembered the orgy.
I suddenly felt very excited and reached quickly for my goblet of wine.
I finished the contents and Laelia, one of my personal slaves, quickly refilled it.
“You are to stay close to me,” I whispered. “I think I will be needing you.”
She nodded and curtsied and I patted her bare ass. I pulled her close to me and put my arm round her waist. My fingers idly stroked the top of her thigh for a few moments. She is my favorite. I’d bought her in an auction in the capital. Some of the best money I have ever spent. In many ways she is my confidante and she often shares my bed when my husband is away. I know she is devoted to me and I have every reason to trust her. She also has a gorgeous lively smile and gives the best massages I’ve ever had. Sometimes I think she knows my body more intimately than even my husband does. My morning ritual is incomplete without her doting care.
With the tips of my fingers lightly caressing her voluptuous fleshy buttocks I turned back to the matter at hand. One of the centurions had thrown a rope up over a beam in the ceiling and they were hoisting the young man up by his wrists. He was trying vainly to resist and was shouting something behind the gag, probably hurling insults, but the two soldiers ignored him and continued their work with unconcerned indifference.
At the table silence reigned; not a single word was spoken by any of us. I looked round at our guests. Everyone was transfixed, staring at the youth as if in a hypnotized daze.
Once the soldiers had finished, the slave or prisoner or whatever he was, was left dangling by his arms from the beam. His feet, which were barely touching the ground, were chained by the ankles to a heavy weight. A bronze bar had been attached between his ankles so that he could not raise, move or bring his legs together. This left his long cock dangling between his spread open thighs in a way that left it both completely exposed and aesthetically pleasing.
Thus with all movement denied him, his naked body – stretched out before us in all its magnificent beauty – was displayed to us like nothing more than a piece of high quality beef in the butcher’s shop in the town.
For a few seconds he hung there motionless. But beneath those wavy flowing locks of wispy golden hair, angry eyes of the most iridescent blue darted frantically around the room, either as if searching for a way escape or at least some kind of succor. Then he stared with undisguised fury at each one of us in turn. He shouted something which was made incomprehensible by the gag and his slim but manifestly powerful body twisted and writhed as he once again pulled desperately at the restraints. I hoped they were strong enough to contain him. Who knows what havoc he might wreak if he were to free himself.
At a nod from my husband, one of the soldiers approached him with a horse whip and firmly struck him several times on his thighs and cock. He emitted a high pitched muffled cry and his whole body jerked and twisted as he tried to avoid the blows of the whip upon his pitifully undefended manhood. But he couldn’t. Weighed down at his ankles he couldn’t even raise his legs. Utterly fascinated I watched his abs and the muscles in his thighs flex and bulge as he tried to kick vainly against the restraints. Then, presumably out of both pain and frustration, he threw back his head as if pleading with the gods and yanked desperately at the cuffs on his wrists. As he did so I saw the muscles in his upper torso bulge and tighten and I couldn’t help but let out a tiny gasp at the sheer beauty of the sight laid out before my eyes.
Oh yes whip him again, I thought, feeling slightly breathless. My heart was beating wildly and I felt the sudden powerful urge of my pleading sex. Don’t stop. Show him no mercy. The sight of him being tormented with the whip aroused me enormously. I love the whip. I love the beauty it reveals and I am a skilled practitioner in the arts of the lash. Many think it is just a tool to punish. Nothing could be further from the truth. With the whip one can arouse, tease, move and bring a subject to the the most unbearable and agonizing ecstasy.
Don’t believe me? Ask any of my slaves.
I turned my eyes to my husband and for a moment I just stared at him. He was grinning at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. It was that boyish, cheeky, slightly evil grin that I loved. Was this another of his practical jokes or was there something else going on here?
Then he winked again.
And I knew.
I nodded and smiled.
I looked around the table at our guests.
Now all eyes were upon me. The Mistress of the house.
And they all knew what was expected of me.
Image – author unknown
I rose from the table and went over to inspect our prisoner. He stared at me impudently, showing no fear at all. If anything, there was a clear look of provocation mixed in with all the defiance. His eyes bore into me. They reminded me of the ocean. Not just because of the color. There was something cold and unknowable about them yet at the same time they were turbulent and dangerous. They say the eyes are the window to the soul and I suddenly had the strangest feeling I was gazing into the windows of another world. Completely different to my own. Wilder, more primitive and much more dangerous. There was something quite fascinating, almost spellbinding about them and I had to make an effort to tear myself away from them. For a moment I felt myself being drawn in. As if he were consuming me.
I went behind him and my hands ran over the hard curved smoothness of his broad shoulders. I grabbed his ass with both hands. It was perfectly formed. Round and full. I stood right behind him, my breasts pressing against his back and put my arms around his chest. I closed my eyes and felt for the nipples and pinched them between each thumb and forefinger. They were hard. Like little nuggets. Then I ran my fingers down his abs to his belly and explored the smooth flat skin just above his cock. It was soft. My fingers pulled at the short tufts of hair. I stood on tiptoe and leaned against him pressing my sex against his ass. Then I put my mouth to his right shoulder. I wanted to bite his neck. Make him squirm. See his pain. Oh such hard manly flesh. Suffer for me. Prove yourself. Prove your worth. I thought I heard a breathless whisper from somewhere in the room. Whip him now. Whip him hard.
I called to Laelia, “Go and get the chest of whips. You know where it is.”
She curtsied and hurried out of the room. I heard murmurs of approval from the table. Someone said something. A joke or some kind of witticism. I can’t remember. I was too fascinated by what I was looking at to be bothered by anything else.
I went round in front of him again. That look. Such impudence. We’d need to do something about that.
Ignoring his eyes I put my hands on his shoulders and ran my fingers down his chest. The night was still warm and his skin glistened with perspiration. I leaned in and put my cheek on his chest and inhaled. They’d prepared him. He’d been bathed. I could smell the scent of soap. But there was something else too. Something fresh? Minty? Pines? What was it? The smell of the forest?
I put my lips to a nipple and flicked it with my tongue. I bit it and held it between my teeth. I sucked on it and there it was again. That taste. A glowing freshness. I was reminded of the crisp clean feeling one has after bathing in a stream in the forest early in the morning.
I looked down at his cock. Although not erect the trunk was long and full. It was not shriveled from fear or shame as many men’s cocks would be in the circumstances. It was also slightly curved to the left. Something I always find attractive. Although not fully shaved it had been groomed. The tufts of short hair just above the base were dark golden colored. The testicles were virtually hairless which made them seem more statuesque. For a moment it looked so beautiful to me that he seemed almost unreal and I wondered if I was dreaming.
I took the cock in the palm of my hand and squeezed. I pulled on the shaft several times and rubbed the tip with my forefinger. I sensed its power and the proximity of it to my own sex gave me a warm shiver of pleasure. As my hand drew back on the shaft, the cock began to stiffen and take form.
Was he resigning himself to his fate now? Or perhaps even desiring it?
I looked into his eyes again. The impudent stare was now less harsh. He seemed to be staring through me rather than into me. I smiled. If this was a battle of wills I had scored the first blow. There was the chink in his armor. Like all men, I thought. He can be led by the cock.
I turned to my husband. “What is he? Where is he from?”
“He’s a zadhyr.”
The word meant nothing to me. My husband smiled as he saw the puzzled look on my face.
“He’s from the flat lands in the north. Beyond the mountains,” he began to explain, “A zadhyr is an important member of the tribe. They are said to have magic powers. Like a priest or a shaman. Or a witch doctor. He can be a healer. A sexual healer. He’s all of those things rolled into one. But he is also a warrior. They are incredibly courageous fighters. He is not the leader of the tribe but he is the soul of it. More powerful than the chieftain who just takes care of the day to day running of the tribe, the zadhyr is the guardian of their fertility and freedom. They believe he is the earthly representation of the tribe’s collective soul. Therefore he is a much more valuable capture than the leader. If you capture the zadhyr then the tribe loses the will to fight. But there’s the rub. Capturing them. The freedom of the tribe falls upon their shoulders and they know it – they would rather die horribly than surrender to an enemy. This is the first one we have ever caught in all my years of campaigning in the north and he fought like a demon. It took half a dozen of the strongest men to hold him down once we’d trapped him. And I am not joking, he is dangerous, defiant and very brave. Be very careful with him. While he is here, he is to cuffed, caged, chained by the cock and whipped at the first sign of trouble. He is to be kept under armed supervision 24 hours a day. Also don’t look at his eyes for too long as they have been known to hypnotize people. Keep the slaves away from him.”
“And you brought this dangerous violent creature into my house?”
“Well, as I said, they are guardians of the tribe’s fertility and they say that making love with a zadhyr is the best fuck you will ever have in your life.”
He laughed and once more his eyes twinkled. “So I thought he might interest you.”
There was such an evil look on his face that I didn’t know whether to blush or laugh.
“They say it’s almost supernatural. Ecstasy of the most agonizing kind. Your whole body tormented by waves of unbearable pleasure until your mind dissolves into a kind of transcendent euphoria. It’s as close as you can get to making love with one of the gods.”
He chuckled, “Be careful you don’t get addicted.”
I smiled and looked at my guests. “And has my husband perhaps already tried to ascertain the veracity of these assertions?”
The room filled with laughter and my husband replied, “Well, my love, I’ve certainly been tempted. And his ass pleases me enormously. But I thought I’d wait for you.”
He raised his hands to the guests and said. “After all this a celebration. An orgy. We share the wine. We share our bodies and we make gifts of them. The zadhyr is my gift.”
And then he added, rather more seriously, “But he must be tamed. He is wild and savage and very strong willed. You must earn him. Break his armor and make him yours. By whatever means.”
He sat back and raised his goblet as if wishing me good luck. I thought he looked rather smug. This was not just a gift, it was a challenge and he knew it.
Moved by his generosity I went over and sat on his lap and put my arm around his shoulder. I kissed him full on the lips and then whispered in his ear, “I am so grateful to you sir, you never cease to move me in ways that both astound and arouse me enormously. I am yours and ever shall be. Never forget it.”
I could feel his cock bulging beneath my ass and I put my hand on his thigh. For a few moments I let myself bathe fully in the luxuriant warmth of his desire. Behind me I heard the guests murmuring and someone made a joke urging us on. The atmosphere had become noticeably lustier after the rather ominous nature of my husband’s warning.
With some reluctance I pulled myself away from his embrace and stood up. I turned to our guests and said, “Well if he needs taming, then now is as good a time as any to start, don’t you think?”
I slipped off my robe and let it fall to my feet. Standing fully naked before them I clapped my hands and said, “It must be midnight by now. Let the orgy commence and the show begin. Everyone must strip or leave.”
Paul Avril – Manual of Classical Erotology
After the cheers had died down and everyone got themselves naked and comfortable with a pleasure slave or two to serve them with their needs. I walked over to the zadhyr and without further ado grabbed his cock in my right hand and squeezed it hard. I remembered what my husband had said. This was going to be a battle of wills. I must show him in no uncertain terms that he is now mine. I looked him in the eye. Stare at me all you want, you savage, I thought as I pulled on the cock. You will be mine.
I turned to my husband, “Oh by the way, can he understand us? Does he speak our language?”
“No,” he said, “but Julius can translate for you. I advise communication by deed rather than word.”
“Very well then. Where is Laelia with the whips? Ah there you are. Come here, girl.”
I opened the chest and took out some short floggers and a bull-whip. The room fell silent. I could sense the anticipation in the air. All eyes were on me. I felt I was the star of the show. I looked down at my naked body. My breasts were bare and my nipples were hard and erect and tingling. My sex quivered and hummed and I felt a dizzying elation. I loved being naked in public and especially when I was the center of attention. I was intoxicated by my own nakedness and power.
I lay the floggers on the floor next to the zadhyr’s feet and then turned my back on him. With the bull-whip in my right hand, I moved forward a couple of steps away from him and then waited in silence.
I kept perfectly still. I said nothing and kept my eyes down as if deep in thought.
There was absolute silence. It was like a church. The ceremony was about to begin.
Suddenly and in one swift violent movement I turned around to face him and with one arm raised the bull-whip and aimed it directly at the zadhyr’s thighs and cock. I watched as the strip of leather landed perfectly on its target and coiled around his waist and thighs and licked at his buttocks. He jerked back, pulled on the restraints and cried out shrilly beneath the gag.
I have been using whips since I was a young girl and am very skillful with them. My aim is good. I can hit a target at several yards with a long whip. So aiming at and hitting his cock, even in this relatively confined space, was easy and I dealt him another half dozen well-placed blows and never missed a shot. His head yanked back and forward at each blow and he panted and gasped through the gag. I watched increasingly exhilarated as he frantically tried to raise his legs up and protect himself but was unable to because of the ankle irons. From my own cruel hands lashes of hot pain were tearing at his muscular thighs, enveloping his manhood and lacerating those firm round buttocks. Every single muscle in that tanned young body, stretched out so elegantly into the form of an X, was flexing and his chest heaved in apparent breathless anguish. Gods he was so beautiful. Is there anything more beautiful than a fit young body being whipped?
Then, for the sake of variety and because he looked so gorgeous and, I aimed higher and loosed a dozen cracks at that fine glistening sinewy torso making sure that main body of the whip landed on his chest but also that the end of the whip curled around his ribs to finish biting cruelly into his shoulders and back.
This is how I experience his body. With the whip I amplify his beauty and savor it and make it mine. He becomes my creation and I embrace him wholly. And I make love to him with all my desire and all my lust and every single ounce my pitiless fury.
God what a body he had. The delicious lines of his muscles in torment. What strength there was in them. What a prize. Drunk on power and my own sexual arousal I could feel my heart pounding wildly beneath my naked breasts. God I felt good. This was life. I wanted to laugh out loud and shake my fist at the devil.
I let myself go and vented all until I had to pause for breath. I think if I’d carried on much longer I might have started cumming. My sex was oozing, wet, imploring. I felt a little crazy. Possessed by a mad lust that was more powerful than anything I had known
The zadhyr was gasping for air and his head now lay limply on his chest. I came closer to him and once more grasped his cock in my hand. It was red and so hot to the touch. It was also still firm. It had not shriveled like most men’s would. It was hard. Perhaps even harder than it had been before. Not erect exactly but fuller and longer. Much more potent looking. Full of life. The veins bulged. It looked like a juicy fruit waiting to be plucked.
Judging by the firmness of his cock, pain was also his friend. It aroused him as it did me. What a fighter he must be. Fearless. He relished the fear and the pain and thrived upon them. That was a part of who he was. It was what made him so invincible. And it was why I had to make him mine.
I took his head by the hair and lifted his face up to mine. His eyes were so blue. So attractive. A powerful glow within seemed to swirl and I felt myself being sucked into them. Being urged on. The proximity of this incredibly desirable body just seemed to drive me crazy with lust. I wanted to fuck him there and then. I wanted his cock inside me now. Throw down the whip and fuck him. You know you are going to anyway. Why waste time. Give into your desires. Give yourself to him. Do it now. Surrender, surrender, surrender.
In a flash I remembered what my husband said about hypnotism and quickly tore myself away.
I took a deep breath. He almost had me there. He needed to know who was boss.
“Julius, explain to him that he has been captured by my husband and gifted to me. I own him. I am his Mistress now and he belongs to me. He will obey me or pay the cost. His body and his manhood,” I tapped his cock with the handle of the whip, “are mine to do with as I please and he will submit to my will. The whipping just now was a demonstration of what will happen if he disobeys me. And tell him also that in a few moments I will remove the gag but he is to remain absolutely silent. No cries, shouts or speaking at all. And he is to keep his eyes down. If he disobeys he will regret it.”
Julius translated. The language sounded quite guttural to me. Primitive. Nothing like our own mellifluous tongue at all.
He nodded at me when he finished and I called to one of the guards.
“Centurion, remove the gag.”
While he did so I waited, my hand gripping the whip tightly. Ready for first sign of disobedience.
I’ll be honest with you. I was expecting it. Almost willing him to disobey me. I love whipping cock so much. It’s one of my favorite things.
But what happened next surprised me. The zadhyr obediently kept his head down and did not move. And the only noise to be heard was the soft rhythmic sound of his breathing.
Behind me I heard applause and even a few cheers. I turned around and bowed. I looked over at my husband. Aeliana, one of his favourite pleasure slaves, was kneeling at his feet. She was naked and had her back to me. He was holding her head between his thighs and staring right at me. The expression on his face said it all.
I turned back to the zadhyr.
I noticed his cock was now almost erect. So he was enjoying all the attention. Feeding off it even. There’s a slut in all of us I thought. I went over and stood immediately in front of him. I stood on tiptoe and pressed my sex against the tip of the upraised cock. At the mere touch of it against my skin I suddenly felt a kind of hot electric charge that seemed to run all the way up and down my body. It started in my sex and went all the way up my spine through my breasts and nipples and then down to my thighs and even my asshole. It was like a hot tingling sensation. I was suddenly aware of myself in my own body. My own skin. I also sensed how beautiful I was. How desirable. I had a sudden desperate urge to be fucked. And not just by one man. By many. By all of them. I wanted all the men in the room. Every single on of them. The centurions and the slaves. The women too. I wanted to lie on the floor and have each and every one of them hold me down and take turns to violently fuck me. In a frenzy of lust they would slap me, whip me even. They would take me from behind and use me brutally and I wanted to wallow in the sheer ferocity of it. I wanted my body invaded. Beaten and used. Conquered. Laid waste.
Suddenly I shivered and somehow pulled myself back. It was like waking from a dream. Were these my true desires? My fantasies? Yes they were. Of course they were. My husband often liked to whip the prettier slaves. And every now and then we would play games where I was a naughty slave to be punished and he was to whip me cruelly and without mercy. And I loved it. I loved watching him as I bathed in the hot whipfire. Watching his strength. The curve of his muscles. The shape of his torso as he raised his arm to strike. The fire in his eyes and the steely set of his jaw. And I already knew how much he enjoyed seeing me with other men. He had told me so.
I glanced at the zadhyr’s eyes. His expression remained constant but strange and unknowable. Suddenly I had a feeling he knew everything about me. And I also sensed that I had been given a kind of license. What was that expression I’d heard somewhere? Do unto others as you would have them do to you.
I stepped back and my eyes returned to his cock. I gasped. Gods, it was enormous now. Fully erect. It pointed up. Skyward. As if it sought communication with the gods. It seemed enormous. Almost uncontainable. The veins bulged and pumped as if it were about to burst. It looked so succulent and juicy and desirable and I felt such a powerful rush in my sex that my knees almost gave way.
How could anyone resist that?
Gods, was the violence of my own desire only serving to feed him? Just making him stronger?
I turned around in astonishment and looked at the guests. Everyone was staring at it open mouthed. The expressions on their faces was such a sight to see that I almost laughed.
Then I had an idea.
Priapus from the house of the Vetii, Pompeii
“Does anyone have a cord or some thin rope?”
Julius handed me the tie cord from his tunic. I tied it tightly around the base of the zadhyr’s cock behind the testicles. I held the other end in my hand like a leash for a dog. I yanked hard on it a couple of times and looked straight at him.
“This cock belongs to me. It is my property gifted to me by my husband. I shall do with it as I please. In my presence you are to keep it hard, potent and fertile. Julius, please translate.”
Once more Julius pronounced those strange rather ugly guttural sounds which passed for the zadhyr’s language and in which I could recognize no meaning at all.
I watched the zadhyr as he translated. He was looking up at me and his gaze remained constantly fixed on my eyes. He did not blink. I couldn’t work out whether he was challenging me or was simply indifferent to his fate. It was if he were wearing a mask.
I pulled on the leash until it was taut and the cock and testicles were stretched out before me, held cruelly captive by the tightened noose. I yanked on it again. It must have hurt a lot but apart from an involuntary jerk of his body he did not react. I admired that. How strong he looked. The muscles in his entire body were tense, rounded and hard. His skin shone in the candlelight and I felt utterly consumed by his beauty. Inflamed by it. A beauty which was mine. Yes mine. He belonged to me. I had complete power over him. Exhilarated and exultant, I pulled harder until his torso and hips were arched toward me, held up by the pitiless clutch of the cord wrapped so tightly around his genitalia. His waist and belly were extended out toward me with his limbs, held captive by the restraints, spread eagled, stretched out to breaking point. I admit I relished my own cruelty and felt incredibly aroused by my complete dominance over him. Each second of his existence was mine to rule.
I think of it now and I can still remember every single detail of this moment.
His ribs showed through under the taut skin. I approached him and with my free hand I caressed his chest and belly. The skin was smooth, flat and very tanned. He was hard. Everything about him was hard. Not just his cock. His muscles seemed to be forged in iron. His nipples were hard dark berries. So succulent and tasty looking. Even his spirit was hard. I knew I would never be able to break him completely and now I wasn’t sure I wanted to. The danger in him, and my ability to control it, was what made this so exhilarating. I was brought up on a farm and I remember my father taming the wild horses. There wasn’t a horse he couldn’t bring to his command. But for me the best horses, the most beautiful ones, always had something wild about them.
I needed that sense of danger. The exultation of riding the danger, controlling it, of being challenged by it. And yes taming it. But not – and never – killing it.
I wondered if my husband’s men had tortured him when they had captured him. I imagined he would be a very difficult man to break. It was not that he was immune to pain, he seemed to thrive on it. This was part of his power.
I looked at his cock. So hard. So potent. So perfect.
Suddenly I could think of nothing else but receiving it as it was. Inside me. Soon. Filling me with his fury and frustration and pain and sheer fucking lust.
It was the most intoxicating feeling I have ever felt in my life.
I looked up. The zadhyr was staring at me with an intensity that was almost tangible. I quickly looked away.
Image – Felipe Messias
I felt breathless and agitated. I needed to pace myself. I was too hungry for him. I nearly started cumming when I was whipping him. I needed to take a step back and get a grip. I could feel myself losing control to my own desire for him.
And that thing he did with is eyes. That look. My husband was right. They were hypnotic. And I was convinced he was trying to mesmerize me. Draw me in. Make me submit to him through my own desire. That would not do. I had to be seen to be in control. I had to show him my indifference toward him.
I suddenly felt thirsty and called a Laelia for some water.
I had an idea. I’d let the others play with him for a while and just watch.
Loosening my grip on the cord and went over to him and avoiding his eyes bent down over his cock. With the two ends of the cord I tied a large bow above the trunk and let it droop down over it.
“A prize to anyone who can untie this knot using only a flogger or a whip. The winner chooses a barrel of our finest wine from the cellar.”
There was no shortage of volunteers. While they whipped him I went and sat down at the table and Laelia poured me another goblet of wine. I gulped it down with a little cheese and bread. Sex always makes me hungry.
While I was eating I watched a group of two men and a woman whip his cock. They were all laughing. In vino veritas they say and, released from their inhibitions by the wine, these three were not holding back. The woman, a blonde socialite and daughter of one our most respected senators, was particularly cruel. She’d obviously had too much wine and kept giggling and rubbing her sex as she struck at the tip of the cock with her flogger. I know how you feel my dear, I thought. But she was very young and her lack of experience showed. She was only about eighteen or nineteen and this might even have been her first orgy. I looked over at my husband and recognized the look on his face. At that exact moment, as if by magic, he looked at me and I could read his thoughts. We must invite her to our bed, he was thinking. She needs educating. I laughed. Fine, but I will take the whip to her first.
She’ll have to earn my husband’s cock if I have anything to do with it.
I turned back to the game. The zadhyr’s long cock was swinging this way and that under the furious cracks of their floggers. At this rate the knot would unravel in no time. But the cock remained stubbornly hard. I felt incredibly aroused by the sight of it. It was beautiful. Unvanquished cock. Hard. Proud. Strong. So manly. That unbearable desire in me rose once more and I could feel myself wanting to yield to my instincts. I didn’t think I could hold out much longer.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His chained body remained utterly still under the whips. I looked for signs of resistance or anger but he seemed to have become inert. He held his head down with his eyes closed. He appeared to have disappeared inside a shell. Inside that strange world I had glimpsed behind his eyes. With his arms raised on high and his body exposed and naked he reminded me of the crucified criminals I’d seen on the Via Trionfale. Only his wild swinging cock gave any sign of life. I watched it transfixed. It was like an animal fighting desperately for its life against a den of fire-spitting vipers. The odds were overwhelming. It could never win against the cruel lashing whip-tongues. But it was beautiful in all its agony. I was consumed with desire for it. I wanted it inside me. I wanted to feel its heat. Its pain. Its pulsating power. I wanted to offer it release and suffer its remorseless grinding pounding penetration of my sex, to be rendered a slave to its potency and decimated by its voracious desire.
Yes I know. Who was master now? I was giving in. Did it matter? If he had hypnotized me so be it. All I wanted was the fulfillment of the promise which that wild gorgeous cock seemed be offering me.
I suddenly grew impatient. The game was going on too long. I knew what I wanted and I wanted it now.
“Come on boys,” I shouted, “Whip that cock! The wine awaits to quench your thirst.”
But it was I who was waiting now. It was my thirst that needed quenching.
I looked over at my husband. He was smiling at me. He knew. He had arranged all this. He nodded at me and raised his goblet.
I smiled back at him and blew him a kiss. There he sat. My man. My Master.
I knew full well what he was waiting to see. He was probably surprised I had lasted this long.
There was a sudden loud cheer and I turned quickly and saw the cord was now hanging loose from the zadhyr’s upraised and triumphant cock.
“Hallelujah,” I shouted, “More wine for everyone!”
Image – author unknown
I stood up. It was time. I could restrain myself no longer. My head was dizzy with anticipation and desire. My legs felt weak as I walked over to him and faced his erect cock. It rose up before me. Swelled, arrogant and vainglorious. I took it in my right hand and pulled gently on it. Stroking it. Soothing it. Rewarding it. Teasing it slowly. Taking him to the edge and holding him there. He deserved it. Good boy. Only pleasure now. Your time has come. The tip was wet and I bent down on my knees and opened my mouth to taste it. I put out a tongue and licked the droplets. I closed my eyes and drew on the shaft with my tongue and lips. Its taste was like no other. Sweet. Not bitter. This surprised me and I suddenly looked up at him. His expression was rapt, eyes closed now, utterly given to the pleasure I was conferring upon him. I was massively aroused now and what with my own sex beseeching me I must be careful not to make him – or me – come too soon.
I stood up and put my hand on his cheek. I nodded to him. He knew. Those eyes. They understood me. A sudden wave of comprehension shot through me. He was the manifestation of all my desires. All of them. This was no common slave to be whipped for my idle pleasure. He was something unique. He desired this as much as I did. He fed off my desires. Our desires were complimentary and they fed each other. Dominant and submissive. Two sides of the same coin. His attraction for me was implicit in his surrender. But his surrender also guaranteed my own surrender to him as I became responsible for his life.
I must confess when I thought about this later it confused me. When I spoke with my husband about it later he reassured me that attraction was not something set in stone. It was fluid and its qualities depended on the participants. I could be both dominant and submissive depending on who I was with. The important thing is to explore and be who I am.
Anyway right now I just wanted to fuck him with those deep blue eyes gazing at me with all their their power and their sorcery and their impudence and their tenacity. And their knowledge. Yes knowledge. Knowledge of me. Staring deep into me. Seeing everything. Nothing concealed. Entirely naked. Within me. Yes. I wanted him fucking me, penetrating me with his cock and his eyes. Stripping me bare. Utterly naked. Overwhelming me. Reducing me to nothing.
Yes. I wanted to submit. Submit to the slave. He had the whip hand now
And this was not some trick of hypnosis.
I swear a truth had been revealed to me.
Still gazing into his eyes I took the cock with my right hand and pressed it to my sex. I gasped. It felt so hot. I pushed it against me. It was so big. The first waves of pleasure came upon me as I pushed myself upon it carefully inserting it. I felt it urging against my imploring bud. The trunk rose quickly inside me and seemed to fill me entirely with soft flower petals. There was a pressure within me now. It grew in waves. At first gently humming and then gradually more urgent, more insistent, singing. It was singing. Everything was singing. I was in a church and my sex was singing to me and I moaned out loud and lurched forward and I cried out. My song. Mine to sing in utter joy. I put my arms around his neck and levered myself onto him. More. I wanted him deeper inside me. Harder. Push. My body knew to answer his call and I writhed and ground and gyrated my hips and raised my legs up and over his hot and hungry cock barging into me driving ever deeper inside me. I was willing him on. Yes. Deeper. Harder. Fuck me. I grabbed his hair and yanked his head toward me and my mouth sought his and I was unable to bear the intense agony any longer. Oh gods yes I wanted him I so wanted him. Please. I wanted to be laid waste by him. Obliterated. Isn’t that what we all want? That agonizing ecstasy. The little death. Liberation through obliteration?
It was then that I felt a whip strike at my buttocks and my body jerked from a sudden hot wave of pain. I opened my eyes in surprise and saw my husband standing behind the zadhyr. He was naked with a bull-whip in his hand. He raised his arm to strike us again and my eyes luxuriated in the beauty of his muscular torso and his long full cock risen and enthroned between those two powerful thighs. At his command the long whip once more curled around our entwined bodies and I felt the zadhyr’s body jolt against me. His flesh momentarily fused with mine and I held him ever tighter. Oh but his cock yes his cock within me did not miss a beat. His cock was hard and urgent and relentless and the lashes of the whip danced and flicked and stung and bit into our bodies and just added to an ecstasy that I thought might tear me to pieces. I willed them on. I held fast to the zadhyr’s shoulders and cried out oh yes whip us fuck us whip us fuck us fuck me please fuck me harder harder harder…
The lashes rained hot fire upon our naked flesh and I felt us being forged into one and I lost myself utterly to the sweetest of all agonies. I felt a hand squeeze the back my neck. My husband was standing right behind the zadhyr., his cock enormous, potent, dripping. I saw him come closer and press himself against the zadhyr’s ass. He was going to penetrate him. Take him from behind. As soon as he entered him I heard the zadhyr gasp and I felt the force of it even within me. They immediately synchronized their movements and the pressure on my sex became unbearable. I thought I would explode. I could only think that now there were two roaring cocks inside me. One inside the other. Urging each other on.
Fingers. A hand now. A hand at my ass. Yes. Slapping at my ass. Clawing fingers clutched and grabbed at the flesh and pulled roughly at my buttocks. Pulling them apart. Oh god yes I knew what was next. I reached up to the rope above the zadhyr’s wrists and clutched it tightly as if my life depended on it. More. Yes. Please more. I felt the heat of his chest on my breasts and then something hot and enormous entered me behind. I think it might have been Julius but actually I have no idea who it was and nor did I care. All I knew was that it was hot and wet and big and potent and exactly what I needed. The final key to unlock the door. Flesh on flesh. Flesh within flesh. Within my flesh. The flesh of three. The magic number. Three. A trinity of cocks. Inside me. Yes. Tearing at me, madly consuming me, crushing me utterly, I felt the gods were upon me and were fucking me and then I looked into his eyes, such blue eyes and I dived into them and I was lost in a warm sea of shining blue with the sunlight all around me dancing on the waters and I wanted to dance and sing and shout oh such sweet sweet joy and oh mercy something bright, hot, sweet and agonizing exploded within me and I felt like I had been pulled apart, torn into pieces. My mind span out of control and I had the strangest sensation that I was fragmented, broken into tiny pieces and everywhere at the same time, only there was no time just everlasting now. In a series of scorching hot flashes of ecstasy the universe was revealed to me. It was infinite and filled with pleasure. All was pleasure. It was eternal. It was the truth. Illusion was just another cloth, a mere rag, it had been stripped from me and thrown away into the fire. I was naked. Truly naked. My body freed from all the restraints and delusions and I was divine. In a brief moment I saw all. Pain was only temporary, carnal, destined to disappear in a sea of overwhelming and eternal joy. I felt myself floating and I rose up on high and gazed upon the stars. They were all laughing as the infinite night sky welcomed me into its warm and ever-loving embrace.
I laughed with them. Life is joy. Love is the source, the godhead, infinite, it is the end.
I woke up the following morning in bed in my husband’s arms. The sunlight was streaming through the open bedroom window. Outside I heard the sounds of morning; the clatter of horse hooves, the farm animals being fed, a slave girl singing.
Somewhere a cock was crowing.
I only have vague memories of the rest of the night. I think I may have had a little too much wine. I imagined all the guests were sleeping it off in the other bedrooms now. I think whatever followed must have been an anticlimax. Or maybe I was exhausted and just fell asleep after a day of copious love-making plus having to supervise all the arrangements for the orgy. My husband told me later that all the guests were able to taste a little of the zadhyr’s “magic potency”, as he described it, and I know the evening was considered a complete success and enormously entertaining by all who attended.
I leaned over and kissed my husband’s shoulder before laying my head upon it. He was sound asleep and did not stir. I put my arm over his chest and my fingers idly stroked his nipple. My man was home. Soon he would wake and make love to me once more. I had never felt so happy. I love him so much.
Not long after this my husband was invited to speak in the senate and gave a speech which added to his renown. His name was being whispered as someone to watch. We also had a bumper harvest on the farm; it was an especially good year for the grapes. It seemed we had been blessed with good luck; the gods were being most favorable to us. And of course nine months later, in the spring of the following year, our first child was born. A daughter, we called her Lucia.
She has her father’s eyes.