The oaken door clanged shut behind the two page boys. Alexander smiled to himself. Raymond had a vicious streak in him, he knew. The older boy would enjoy tormenting the younger – and then he would enjoy hearing every detail.
Meanwhile, he had other matters to attend to. This morning was market day in the nearby town of Dunchester, and the centre piece of the event was to be the monthly slave auction. Alexander did not usually purchase slave boys – he was perfectly capable of selecting his servants from the local minor nobility or, as in the case of his most recent acquisition, dragging them from the gutter to serve. The slaves on offer were usually rough mercenaries, captured from one of the King’s military expeditions abroad, and were usually either too stubborn or, more significantly, too ugly to interest the Steward. Lord Geoffrey required a certain standard of male beauty in his serving staff – and Alexander was only too happy to work towards those high standards.
Today, however, promised to be different. Rumour had it that the latest consignment of unfortunates ready to be offered up as slave meat to the local hierarchy were prisoners from some exotic Eastern land, renowned for the beauty and prowess of its young men. And Alexander could not resist the opportunity to get his hands on such prime specimens.
A mere hour later, and Alexander sat astride his horse in the town square, a bodyguard of four men, likewise mounted on their own steeds, awaiting the beginning of the auction. He surveyed the crowd. A few farmers, a couple of local merchants and minor landowners: no nobility or anyone who could challenge him financially should he spot something he liked the look of.
The crowd shuffled impatiently. Most of the assembled were lowly peasants who could only dream of owning a slave. They were there because Gregory the slave trader always put on a good show – and he made sure that the slaves he sold were dressed as skimpily as possible, so there would be plenty of bare male flesh for the sex-starved mob to slather over.
A horn sounded and Gregory – ever the showman – stepped onto the wooden platform. He was an evil-looking man: his head shaved and stubbly, his mouth crammed with a couple of shiny gold teeth, and a black patch covering the space where one of his eyes had been before a particularly bloody sortie. He wore a shabby leather jerkin, along with thick grey tights. Alexander viewed them disdainfully: they were rough and coarse compared to the delightfully erotic feel of his own silver hosiery.
“Friends!” Gregory cried. “Once again I am honoured to return to your delightful town to display the latest pickings from our noble majesty’s campaign in the East. The captives you are about to see come from distant Arabia: a sultry and sensuous land renowned for its proud and passionate people. They are not easily tamed, but their beauty is worth the while if you have a mind to try!”
The slave-trader gave a signal to one of his brutish heavies, and the first of the unfortunate men was dragged onto the stage. Dark-haired and olive skinned, the Arabian’s flesh was a burnished brown from the sun of his tropical native land. He was barefoot and naked apart from a skimpy thong made of a silken black material that barely covered his genitals, and which disappeared between the cheeks of his arse. The slave gazed shame-facedly at the floor, and Gregory forced the man’s chin up, forcing him to face the sniggering crowd. His body was muscled, but Alexander found the face rather ordinary and decided he would not be bidding on this occasion.
The first slave was sold for a fairly paltry amount to a widow woman, and Alexander watched as a second and then a third captive was brought out and then sold to the eager throng. Still he bided his time, knowing that the wily Gregory customarily saved the choicest morsels till the very end of the market session when the crowd was at its largest.
Sure enough, once a dozen or so slaves had been disposed of, Gregory licked his lips and bellowed to his audience: “And now, friends, we have the piece de resistance! Our final piece of manmeat for your delectation was one of the strongest and bravest soldiers in the Arabian army! It took fifteen men to subdue him, and he fought and struggled every step of the journey from his homeland to here. I give you – Darius!”
There was a commotion beside the stage as Gregory’s thugs shoved the new slave up the steps. Like the others, this one was locked into an iron collar, and his wrists and ankles were manacled together with bulky chains, making it difficult for him to walk. A thick leather gag was rammed in between his lips to prevent him uttering any objection to his treatment. Two thugs stood either side of him, Gregory clearly not trusting his most precious commodity not to try something foolhardy to avoid the humiliation of being sold into slavery.
Truly, thought Alexander, this was a thing of beauty. The Arabian known as Darius must have been about twenty-five years old, and he stood at just under six feet. Like his countrymen, he was bronzed and dark-haired. His thick black locks fell heavily from his brow to brush his broad shoulders. His well-developed chest muscles led down to a washboard stomach and a slim waist, and the skimpy black thong he had been poured into barely covered the bulge of his cock and balls. His thighs were thick and well-muscled, and already Alexander began mentally to form the image of those legs encased in a fine pair of tights courtesy of Master Yorick. Finally, Alexander’s gaze rested on the specimen’s face: wide-set almond eyes glared imperiously at his tormentors, and the chiselled features – the aquiline nose, the sharp cheekbones and the strong manly jaw - betrayed a pride that was undiminished in spite of the demeaning situation that he found himself in. Involuntarily, Alexander felt his cock twitch. Mmmm, the captive really was divine.
Gregory had begun his salesman’s pitch: “… Perfect health … own teeth … a strong and skilled swordsman …”
He gestured to one of his thugs, who approached the Persian somewhat nervously. And with good reason. As the heavy reached to lower the slave’s skimpy thong, Darius gritted his teeth and began to struggle, taking all the effort of the two men either side of him to restrain him. He would have kicked out had his legs not been shackled. His efforts were in vain, as the shimmering thong was yanked down to his knees, exposing his cock and balls.
Gregory used his wooden stick to prod at Darius’ (not so) private parts, not daring to come too close. “The slave has a good seven inches and is uncut,” he informed his audience, somewhat unnecessarily.
“Let’s see it hard!” came a coarse shout from the crowd.
“As you wish, my friend!” leered Gregory, and again he gestured to his reluctant sidekick.
Darius struggled and writhed as the thug inexpertly tugged at his prick, but in spite of himself, his cock, unloved and untouched since his capture, inevitably began to harden and rise.
Alexander was impressed. Once hard, the cock was truly beautiful. Indeed, everything about Darius the Arabian was beautiful.
“And of course,” Gregory was saying. “You discerning buyers would not be satisfied without seeing the back view!”
Darius continued to struggle as his captors turned him around so his back was to the crowd. He gnashed his teeth through his leather gag, as pressure was applied to the back of his neck and he had no choice but to bend down, his ass rising into the air for the enjoyment of the audience.
If there had been any element of doubt in Alexander’s mind before, it was banished now. The bronzed globes of the slave’s butt were indecently inviting. Alexander imagined getting his hands on that backside, spanking that ass with his best leather belt. Entering that tight little asshole with his lengthy prick. He had to have that slave.
Darius continued to struggle, little knowing that the wriggling and writhing only served to provoke his audience all the more: his arse undulating and bobbing back and forth in its bondage.
Alexander raised his voice and called to the platform. “You should subdue him, Gregory! Have you a phallus handy to enter into that peachy bum?”
“Ah – Master Alexander! A brilliant suggestion! I should have expected nothing less from such a wise man as you!”
A crude wooden trunk was dragged onto the stage and Alexander watched as Gregory rifled through its contents. Eventually he seemed to find what he had been looking for: he produced a thick, black leather plug. Ingeniously, the plug ended in a long horse-hair tail.
“Lord Darius was a renowned horseman before his fall from grace!” yelled the slave-trader. “Perhaps he will learn to appreciate being ridden himself!”
The crowd guffawed at Gregory’s low wit, and then began to jeer and catcall as Darius’ fine, sweating body was manoeuvred into position: side on to the crowd so that they would not miss a moment of his impalement.
Alexander observed the slave’s face redden in shock as he felt Gregory spit against his puckered hole and the blunt dildo presented to his arse. No time for delicacy, once positioned against its target, Gregory pushed with all his might and in one moment, the entire length of the fake cock was pushed into Darius’ puckered man-pussy.
The crowd screamed its delight to see the phallus swallowed whole. And instantaneously, the fight seemed to go out of the restrained Darius. Impaled on the leather cock, the horse-hair tail sticking obscenely out of his rear end, the once-proud warrior slumped into the arms of his captors.
“Why, that does indeed seem to have done the trick, my Lord!” crowed Gregory. “The heathen scum is quite subdued. Mayhap we should make him trot around the town square – jumping over some fences!”
By now, the crowd were worked into a frenzy of hysterical laughter. The proud barbarian warrior reduced to the mockery of a bunch of peasants: his forehead practically touching the ground, his arse stuck up high in the air and a fake horse’s tail stuck out of his man-hole.
“Enough of this!” called Alexander. As much as it entertained him to see the slave publicly humiliated, he was impatient to claim ownership of the Persian and return him to the castle where he could enjoy him at his own leisure. “Are you to sell him or merely play with him, Gregory?”
“All in good time, my Lord! Surely you would not deny the townsfolk their pleasure? It’s not every day such a beautiful specimen appears for their delectation, now, is it?”
“I will have him, Gregory,” Alexander called out imperiously, and with that, he tossed a large bag of silver coins onto the stage. “My time is precious and I do not have the inclination to waste any of it bartering over this creature.”
Gregory eyed the bag of silver greedily. “But, my Lord, be fair. This isn’t how things are done at the auction. Surely you would not deny these other good folk their chance to bid for the Arabian?”
Alexander addressed the crowd. “Well, does anyone wish to bid against me for this slave?”
A hush fell on the square. Alexander’s reputation preceded him. No one would dare to gainsay him in this matter.
“Then it is settled. Have the slave brought to me, Gregory. I will take him to the castle immediately.”
On the journey home, Alexander marvelled at his good fortune: two beautiful new pieces of man flesh acquired in little more than a week. First, the pert little peasant boy, and now this magnificent creature. Both very different and appealing in contrasting ways, but both his to own and possess and to treat precisely as he wished. He glanced over his shoulder to see where Darius the Arabian had been flung unceremoniously over the back of one of his bodyguard’s steeds. The ingenious horse-tail phallus was still firmly lodged in the slave’s butt, and bounced up and down over every rut in the dirt track they followed.
Now, he mused. How to subdue this new acquisition? It would not be as simple as his treatment of the blond page boy. Darius had nothing to lose in this strange new land. And from the proud look on those noble features, Alexander strongly suspected that Darius would rather die than submit himself to the humiliation of being used and subjugated by another man. Well, he thought to himself, he would have to take steps, little by little, to break the soldier’s will until he would beg Alexander to fuck those perfect ass cheeks, morning noon and night…
Before long they arrived back at the castle.
“Take the slave to the dungeons,” Alexander instructed his guards. “I will see to him shortly.”
Darius was manhandled off the back of the horse and, still struggling somewhat, roughly pushed along to the iron grate that was the entrance to the dungeon. Some of the castle-dwellers paused in their work to see the naked, bronzed Adonis appear in their midst, and a couple giggled when they noticed the horse’s tail jutting out from his arse. Alexander smirked as he saw Darius’ face redden. Then he turned on his heel to head towards the workshop of Master Yorick.
The muscular little man nodded courteously as Alexander entered his domain. “And what can I do for you, Alexander?”
“I have acquired a new slave, Yorick.” And Alexander proceeded to tell him of the morning’s events.
“Oh, I envy you, Alexander,” Yorick smiled. “If I had all the staff of this castle at my beck and call, I’d never leave my bedchamber. It’s a wonder to me that you get anything done!”
“So, I’m looking for some clothing for my new purchase. It will be some time before he is sufficiently broken that I may use him for meaningful work around the castle, so on this occasion the customary uniform will be impractical.”
“Yes, I see. You need something to keep him in whilst he undergoes your more specific kind of training.”
“Quite. I shall need some kind of garment that will emphasise his position here as my personal slut. Something sensuous and kinky. So that as he wears it, he will be unable to forget that he is being used, demeaned and humiliated. Oh, and of course it will need to leave his asshole exposed and available to me at all times.”
“Of course,” grinned Yorick. The costumier made his way to his vast chest of clothing. “As luck would have it, Alexander, I think I may have just the thing. It’s an item of my own design that I made some time ago for my own personal pleasure. I’ve never had cause to use it on anyone before, but I think on this occasion it may be just the thing.”
With a flourish, Yorick produced the garment.
Alexander’s eyes widened in appreciation.
“It is perfect.”
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