Eagle’s Claw – part 1

Ancient Roman, slavery, ball busting, teen, adult male

A Roman slave trader pays a high price for his dishonesty.

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Eagle’s Claw

June 2018

Michael looked at his father’s latest finds laid out on the table before them. There was a mixture of pottery, coins, an iron dagger, and various bronze items.

“Is this from the villa dad?”

“Yes. A surprising trove given that it was found in what appears to have been the slave’s quarters.”

Michael and his family were spending summer with his father at a dig 15 miles outside Rome. It was a site that his father’s team had spent the past eight years excavating.

Michael was familiar with most of the items, but he noticed several similar objects that seemed oddly incongruous, out of place, except that they showed a similar level of aging as other objects of the period.

“Dad is it okay to pick this up?” he asked, gesturing to one of the objects.

“Certainly, but make sure your hands are clean and dry first, and please be careful.”

Michael’s hands were already clean, but he rubbed both hands on his cargo shorts to ensure there was no sweat on his fingers that might be corrosive. Then he picked the object up and held it up in front of his eyes. It was totally alien to him, and he couldn’t even begin to guess at its function. It appeared to be a pair of small ornate articulated four-fingered hands, connected to each other at what Michael thought of as the base of the thumb. However, unlike a normal hand, the four “fingers” were arranged in two opposing pairs, each at right-angles to the other. At the rear, there were a pair what appeared to be small, round keyholes, one on each hand

“What’s this dad?”

Stephen looked at the object his son was holding.

“An excellent question. It’s the first time any of us has ever seen such an object before. We’ve searched the records, and put the word out but so far nobody can say for certain. Our best bet is some kind of testicular adornment for the slaves.”

“Testicular adornment?”

Michael tried to imagine his own balls cupped in the small hands.

“I don’t think it would be very comfortable.”

“Maybe not, but slave comfort was not a particular concern. The person who lived in this villa was a senator. Not a person who cared much about the comfort of his slaves.”

“I wonder how many slaves had to wear them?”

Michael allowed his imagination to wander back to the scene at the heyday of the Roman empire…

 

 

23AD – 10 miles from Rome

The sky was a flawless blue with a yellow sun blazing above. A cart rattled along a dusty track winding its way up a low hillside. In the far distance, set among hills of its own, the city of Rome was visible.  On the back of the cart sat four men and a woman. Each of the men wore nothing but a subligaculum; loincloths tied in a simple style that was also common in Greece and India.

The cart was driven by a man wearing leather armour. A gladius hung from a thick leather belt at his side. It had tasted the blood of many men during his time as an avocati in the third legion, and now it served him equally well as a slave manager in the service of Senator Faustus. It was unlikely that the sword would be needed. He was accompanied by a second armed man, and the passengers were bound with their ropes passing through metal rings on the cart frame. They were slave transfers destined for the Senator’s employ. He preferred slaves with experience.

One of the slaves spoke to the other. He was younger, better looking, and built better than the others.

“You know anything about our new owner?”

“Faustus? Yeah, he’s better than many so they say. You’ll get worked hard, but you’ll always have enough to eat, and not just slop. He believes in keeping his slaves strong.”

A third slave chipped in. His back was striped with the scars of old lash strokes.

“Can’t be worse than my old master. He used to take pleasure in beating us. The tiniest excuse.”

“I wonder what work he’ll have us doing?” the second slave mused.

The guard looked over his shoulder.

“Senator Faustus has a farm. You’ll probably be working the fields. Or out in the olive groves.”

“I was breeder at my last place,” the younger slave said. “Think there’s any chance of that here?”

“Can’t say for certain. Faustus doesn’t usually breed his own. Raising the young ‘uns is too slow and costly, but who knows, you’re a strong boy. He might be giving it a try. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Either way,” the cart driver chipped in, “you’ll all quickly get used to being naked.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the breeder asked.

The driver grinned at his companion.

“Well you won’t be wearing those rags once we arrive. The old man keeps his slaves naked.”

“What?! Why?”

“Saves on laundry I s’pose, but truth be told, I think he just likes the sight of all your cocks flopping around. Tits too. He goes both ways.”

All five slaves fell silent for a while as they considered the news. They were used to being naked together when they bathed in the river, although male and female slaves were kept strictly apart at this time. They all knew that whatever shreds of modesty they preserved were at the kindness of their owner, but so far they had each been owned by masters with conventional views on the matter.

 

Eventually the breeder looked across at the woman sitting opposite him. She was well put together.

“I wouldn’t mind breeding you. What do you think? Fancy sitting on a piece of Manfred meat?”

He had been born outside Trier in Germania, but he had been captured as a boy and he had no discernible accent.

Manfred lifted his hips, wiggling what was clearly a substantial penis at her.

The woman blushed.

The guard smiled.

“You’d better hope that Faustus DOES plan to use you as a breeder, because a big cock is no use otherwise.”

“Yeah, especially if you can’t get it up!” the driver added.

The two guards laughed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Manfred demanded angrily. “I CAN get it up. I can always get it up.”

“Not if the master clamps your balls you can’t!”

“What?! What does that mean?”

Manfred was becoming increasingly unsettled.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s just say that if your balls are clamped, getting it up will be the least of your concerns.”

“Nobody’s clamping my balls!” Manfred said, not even knowing what it meant. “I’d sooner die first!”

“Riiight. And you’re not the first slave to say that, yet there they are, every single one – 75 men and boys, all clamped, all still here, all still alive.”
“Yeah,” the guard said to his companion with a cynical sneer, “it’s almost as though they don’t really mean it. As if the threats are nothing but bravado!”

The driver let out a hearty belly laugh and his companion quickly joined in.

In the back of the cart, the male slaves fell into a brooding silence.

 

23AD – Villa Herculaneum

The afternoon sun cast its gentle late summer warmth down on the veranda. The sound of crickets buzzed continuously off in the dry grass, but it was not enough to disturb the two men sitting discussing business. Senator Quintus Faustus sat on a curule; an ornate stool reserved for people of power. Aulus, his vilicus sat on a simpler wooden stool. A bowl of olives and a jug of water stood on the table between them. They were poring over a scroll as Aulus outlined the senator’s weekly business transactions.

Two large men; singularius, accompanied a middle-aged man and a teenaged boy to the veranda.

“Your guests domus,” one of the bodyguards said.

Quintus looked up and rose from his stool with a smile to greet the man.

“Ahh Cassius, my old friend. It is good to see you! Thank you for responding to my invitation.”

The man smiled in return and they grasped each other’s forearms in a manly grip, before leaning forwards and embracing. Both men were dressed in loose fitting tunics befitting the warm weather.

Quintus addressed Aulus.

“Be a good man Aulus – run inside and fetch three cups and a bottle of wine would you please?”

“Of course, dominus,” he responded and disappeared inside the villa.

 

Cassius said, “Quintus, it is good to see you also. Always a pleasure to visit you. You look well.”

Quintus nodded, graciously accepting the compliment.

“Thank you my friend. And you also. Trading in slaves obviously agrees with you.”

“Yes, yes. Life is good. I am fortunate to count many of Rome’s wealthiest families among my patrons.”

“Indeed. Your wealth has earned you considerable status, even in a city as large as Rome. But let us leave Rome to another day. I’m glad that you have been able to come out to my estate to pay me a visit on such a fine day. And with your son as well I was hoping to meet him again.”

He turned to the boy.

“Hello Valens, how are you?”

“I’m very well sir. Thank you for asking.”

Quintus smiled.

“He’s so polite. Almost a man now.”

“Yes, I’ve been teaching him the business so that he can take on some of it. Eventually I’ll hand it down to him so that I can retire.”

“Very good. It sounds as though you have things all planned out.”

“Well one can never be certain what the gods have in store for us Quintus, but I make what plans I can and hope that they will smile upon me.”

 

Aulus returned with the wine and three pottery goblets. He placed them on the table, then took a few steps back, hovering unobtrusively in case his master called upon him again.

Quintus gestured to the stool that Aulus had previously occupied and Cassius sat as Quintus poured two goblets of wine. He looked to Valens.

“Do you drink wine Valens?”

“Yes sir, but only with dinner. Would it be too much trouble to request a cup of water instead?”

“For such a polite young man, no, it is no trouble at all.”

Quintus poured water from the jug on the table and handed it to the teenager. The boy accepted it with a nod and a smile, then he sat on the baked clay floor in the shade near the house as he waited for his father and the senator.

 

Quintus and Cassius sat and chatted idly for half an hour before they were joined by the passengers from the cart. The driver and his assistant brought up the rear.

“The new slaves you purchased sir.”

“Ahh excellent thank you Gallus. You may go.”

Gallus turned to glance at the two singularius who stood on the veranda ready to leap to the senator’s defence at a moment’s notice. Even with a sword and twenty years of training, he wouldn’t want to take on even one of them, let alone two. He and his colleague stepped back, leaving the five new slaves standing in a line before Quintus.

“New slaves Quintus? I don’t recall them.”

“No, I thought I’d try another dealer for a change. I hope you don’t mind my friend?”

“Umm, well, no of course not Quintus. You are free to purchase wherever you see fit. But have I in some way displeased you? Have my slaves failed to meet your expectations?”

“No, no. They’re all hardy stock and good workers.”

“Then another dealer is offering a better price perhaps?”

“Again no, my friend. As I said, I simply thought I’d try someone new.”

“As you please Quintus.”

 

Quintus turned his attention to the new slaves.

“Welcome to my farm. If you obey me and work hard, you will be well treated. You’ll never go to bed hungry, nor will you be whipped. You’ll even have free time to yourselves. Now would you please remove your clothes. You won’t be needing them.”

The new slaves glanced at each other uncomfortably, but they knew better than to disobey. All four men unwrapped their subligaculums. The woman removed her chest wrap first, then her loin covering. They stood holding the strips of cloth, uncertain what to do with them.

“That’s it, you can drop those in a pile by the plant. My slaves don’t wear clothes.”

The new slaves obeyed then returned to their places in a line in front of their new master. Each of them cupped their hands modestly in front of their groins.

“Now, now. No point being modest,” Quintus said smiling. “You’ll be naked for the rest of your time with me. If you’re lucky, that will be for a long, long time. Anyway, I want another look at what I’ve purchased. Drop your hands to your sides please.”

The slaves complied.

Quintus looked them over for a few moments. Valens scrutinised the woman with great interest.

“Hmmm, they look healthy enough wouldn’t you agree Cassius?”

“Yes indeed. Of course, you can’t tell if they have something wrong inside. Maybe worms?”

Quintus laughed heartily.

“Worms? Oh my dear Cassius, I do believe you’re jealous aren’t you?”

Cassius shrugged.

“Well maybe just the tiniest bit ummm, concerned that I am no longer your exclusive supplier.”

“Ha, ha. Well you know what they say my friend, variety is the spice of life, and you have dozens of other customers.”

Cassius hid his irritation beneath a smile.

“Of course, Quintus. I’m just being foolish. You know how much your friendship means to me.”

“And yours to me also.”

Quintus returned his attention to the slaves.

“You,” he said, addressing Manfred, “you’re Manfred I believe. You were a breeder for your previous owner weren’t you?”

“Yes master,” Manfred responded, showing great deference now that he actually stood before the senator.

“Good, step forwards. Stand before me.”

Manfred stepped forwards and Quintus reached between his legs cupping the man’s testicles in his palm. He closed his fist to feel their size as well as their weight.

“Ummm, you have a fine pair of stones on you. Feel Cassius.”

Cassius leaned across and groped the man’s testicles, squeezing just a touch harder than necessary.

Quintus gripped the man’s long penis and drew his foreskin back.

“Clean too. How many children have you sired?”

“I can’t be certain sir. At least 50.”

Quintus nodded his approval.

“And can you get it up on demand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, good.”

Quintus turned to Aulus.

“Aulus a plate please. One of the large glazed clay ones.”

Aulus disappeared inside and returned 30 seconds later holding a heavy clay dinner plate.

“On the table please,” Quintus said.

He turned back to Manfred.

“Make it hard now. Tug yourself until you squirt. Squirt onto the plate. I want to see how much you cream you make.”

Manfred turned to the other slaves. He was embarrassed but also a little smug. He WAS going to become a breeder. Leave the clamping for the other men to worry about!

He turned back to face Quintus and Cassius. Then he reached between his legs and gripped the thick six inches of meat that hung there. He drew his fist down, then up repeatedly, moving slowly at first. He disliked having to perform in front of strangers, especially males, but Manfred also found the experience a little arousing. In 30 seconds, his cock was a thick 9 inches, with veins bulging along its hard length. He pumped faster now. Then he glanced past the men and saw Valens watching from his seat on the ground. Manfred gave the boy a small wry grin. Valens blushed but continued watching. Manfred looked down at his cock, giving it his full attention now. His fist pumped faster and faster, then he was squirting. Several thick ropes spurted from the large head and landed on the large shiny earthenware with an audible splat.

When he was finished, he looked up at Quintus, satisfied that he had performed. He took his fist off his cock and dropped it to his side, allowing his meat to jump and twitch in the aftermath of his orgasm.

“Is it me, or is there a certain insolence in this man’s bearing?” Quintus asked Cassius.

“Well it’s not for me to say Quintus, but he certainly seems very happy with the size of his cock.”

Quintus turned to Valens.

“Hey boy, what do you think of the size of his cock, is yours that large?”

Valens blushed.

“N… no sir. It seems VERY large to me.”

“Yes me too,” Quintus agreed, ignoring the lump at the front of Valens’ tunic.

He turned his attention to the plate. He lifted a dribble of Manfred’s semen from the plate and rubbed it between his finger and thumb.

“Hmmm, thick, very fertile I’m sure.”

Quintus looked to Gallus.

“Take these three to receive their eagle claws. Take this one,” he gestured to Manfred, “and the woman to Felix, tell him that they are to be set to work in the fields straight away. And he is to keep a close eye on Manfred.

“Yes dominus. Right away.”

 

The man led the slaves away, Manfred with his still-hard cock pointing the way, walked with a swagger that the other males did not share.

Cassius spoke up.

“Eagle claws?”

“You’ve never seen my eagles? In all the time you’ve been visiting? I think it’s time I remedied that. Come with me.”

Quintus rose and walked down the step from the veranda. Cassius rose and followed the senator. Valens also rose, his hands cupped as inconspicuously as he could in front the tunic bulge that betrayed his still-hard penis. One of the singularius noticed his bulge and gave him a leering smile. Valens looked away, embarrassed.

“Father?” he queried, unsure whether he was also to follow.

“Oh yes boy,” Quintus said, “you can come too. Who knows, maybe we’ll see something else to make your rod stand up.”

Valens blushed even more brightly. His father had not noticed his erection until Quintus pointed it out. He looked down at his son’s protective hands, then at the boy’s red face with a smirk.

“The boy gets hard at the drop of a hat!” he said.

“He’s at that age. Tell me Valens do you prefer bucks or fillies?”

“Ec… excuse me sir?”

“Cock or cunny. Tits or muscles?”

“Uh… Ummm. C… Cunny?” he said, uncertain if he was permitted to use such a strong word in the presence of such a powerful man. “Mostly.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I am sir. I just wasn’t sure if it was polite to use the word.”

Quintus tousled his hair and smiled.

“It’s perfectly fine with me, but never around the ladies. And it’s good to be open-minded. Too much of one or the other makes a man weak.”

“Yes sir.”

“So come on, let’s see what you’re hiding behind your hands then boy. Lift them away.”

Valens glanced at his father, but they both knew, family friend or not, you didn’t disobey the command of a senator. Valens dropped his hand to reveal the small lump that poked at the front of his tunic. Quintus reached down and lifted the bottom of the tunic to reveal the teenager’s groin. Valens’ erect penis was clearly visible now. It formed a diagonal lump in the thin cotton of his subligaculum. The senator reached down and cupped the boy’s testicles in his fingers, allowing the youngster’s penis to rest in his palm.

“Hmmm, nice stones. Full of cream I’ll wager.”

He squeezed the boy’s hard shaft as Cassius watched bemused. Quintus turned to him with a smile.

“Hard as stone. Oh to be young again huh my friend?”

“Indeed Quintus.”

There was a damp spot in the white cotton covering the head of Valens’ penis. Quintus rubbed it with his fingertip. It was slimy.

“You ARE excitable aren’t you boy?”

Quintus allow Valens’ tunic to fall back over his groin to the boy’s relief. Slaves had no rights, no expectation of privacy, but Valens was a citizen, and he was unused to being treated like livestock.

Quintus draped his arm around the young man’s shoulder.

“Come, let’s see if we can find someone else to make you leak even more.”

He turned to Cassius.

“And I can show you my eagle’s claws.”