The Story of Philo

It was with a fluttering heart that young Philo hurried through the narrow alleys of Rome, guarded by the two sturdy gladiators. Lady Cassandra made sure to dress Philo as if he were a free citizen of Rome rather than a slave, and he looked handsome in a white tunic reaching halfway down his thighs, exposing the strong muscles, with a low-cut neck. She put around his head a wreath of garland. Before he left, she pressed some gold coins into his hand.

“You might need this,” she smiled and kissed him on his full lips, her hand groping his crotch deliciously.

As Philo and his guards approached the brothel owned by Lord Karelius and run by Magnemonus, Philo wondered in what ways his friend Ely might have changed. He knew that he himself had. He had become much more wily and adept at hiding his true emotions. He had learned to divorce his inner feelings from his physical body, which he was able to make perform to its heights while, inwardly, his disgust and humiliation were buried, but burning with the desire for vengeance and liberty.

Philo was concerned, however, about Magnemonus recognizing him. The brothel owner had seen him once only, and not dressed as gloriously as now. He still might recognize him, in which case Philo had decided to make up a story about Cassandra sending Magnemonus a message of inquiry about Ely. He would later confide in Cassandra about this, right after he made her reach multiple orgasms, of course, and tell her to bear out his lie if ever asked.

The Levantine entered the establishment to be surprised at the poshness of the place. He had expected a filthy place of prostitution, with depravity and degeneracy. Instead, he was met with a luxurious setting. There was a large hall where two young boys were playing on the harp, soft lilting music. Four or five older men were lounging on couches with cushions, and trays of fruit next to them, served by boys in skimpy loin cloths. A middle-aged woman, fat with hanging breasts inside her tunic, greeted Philo, but she gestured to the two gladiators to remain near the entrance. She took Philo to be the son of a noble lord.

“Welcome, my lord,” she led Philo by the arm.

Philo was speechless. All it took was nice clothes and he was treated like a nobleman. Luckily for him, Magnemonus was not there, apparently tending to another of his many brothels. This one was apparently designed for the rich and the noble who preferred to sleep with boys. Not anyone could afford such luxury.

“I hear,” Philo finally found his voice, “that you have a nice boy here. The name is Ely, I think.” He made sure to sound serious and lordly.

“Oh,” the matron said, raising her eyebrows. “Him! Yes. Please follow me.”

She led Philo to a corner and bade him to relax. Immediately, two servant-slaves, boys who could not be older than thirteen years, also in very skimpy loincloths, brought fruit and drink. Philo tried to relax, glancing at the two gladiators by the door and watching the other clients as they picked at the grapes, sipped drinks from silver goblets, and groped at the boy-slaves. One of the men, about fifty-five years old or so, fat and slimy-looking but wearing rich robes, was actually gripping a boy’s testicles hard as he licked up the boy’s penis. Philo could see the look of pain and anguish on the boy’s face, but as a male-whore, the boy had to endure the pain and accept his lot.

Ely froze when he saw Philo a few minutes later. Their eyes met. The two lads felt as if a huge force twisted their insides. Instead of rushing towards each other, however, Ely broke the gaze and gave Philo a quick wink and a smile, approaching, as if he was seeing this person for the first time.

“Have you asked for me, Lord?” he asked loud enough for the matron to hear.

Philo nodded, his mouth dry, as Ely crouched beside him.

“Play the game,” Ely whispered.

After the two lads held a short conversation, pretending to have small talk, Ely surreptitiously guided Philo’s hand onto his thigh in such a way that the matron would notice and approve. Philo rubbed slowly up and down, taking the cue. After a little caressing, Ely stood up and asked if his lordship would like some privacy, and led Philo up a flight of stairs, and into his room. The matron could also notice Philo’s pronounced bulge with his semi-erection as he followed the sissy-boy.

The door closed behind them. The two boys grabbed each other in a tight embrace, Ely’s tears running down his face.

“Oh, my Philo. Oh. Oh, how I missed you. Oh, you are so fine, so beautiful. Philo, my Philo.”

Philo laughed, running his hand over Ely’s smooth face cheek, wiping the tears. “You look well, too, Ely. I was so concerned about you, in a brothel, with dirty old men doing all kinds of things to you. By Astarte, you look so sexy and you’re giving me an erection already.”

Ely looked healthy and happy. He laughed, groping Philo’s crotch. Kneeling in front of the Levantine, Ely pulled out the monster cock and served his friend to a huge, intense orgasm, taking all the young sperm thirstily down his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed the tangy juice of his friend. Up till now, Philo had not considered how much he had been aching for Ely. This was not just sex to please whomever he needed to get his way; this was love between two boys hungry for each other.

Philo and Ely sat on the couch, leaning on pillows, arms around each other. Philo looked around the room and was pleasantly surprised at how richly and tastefully it was decorated. Of course, if this brothel was to cater for the wealthy, it couldn’t look seedy.

“I’ve been doing quite well,” Ely said.

“I can tell. Magnemonus is treating you good, eh?”

“Not really. He’s a bastard. But I know how to get along.”

The best part about Ely was that, unlike the other boy-whores in the brothel, he enjoyed serving the men. And that made him popular. He always thought positively, no matter how dire the situation was, and as such, positive things happened to him.

Ely told Philo about his latest conquest.

“This young nobleman,” Ely said with a grin on his face, “has some kind of a fetish for circumcised cock. His problem is that he can’t find any easily around Rome. Everyone, like you, has foreskin. When he discovered me, he started coming almost every day.”

“Oh,” Philo laughed, “so now you have become the aggressor? Not only your mouth and ass, but your dick, too?”

“Shut up, Philo. Yes, my dick, too. I do have one, you know! And this young nobleman hungers for it, both in mouth and in ass.”

“Well, well, my friend. Good for you.” Philo patted the inside of Ely’s thigh, secretly happy that his friend is not all that girly, but a little furtive as to Ely being masculine since Philo ached to have sex with him. Philo reached under the tunic and pulled out Ely’s penis, examining it. He had never before considered doing that. Somehow, it wasn’t that important to him, at least not as important as Ely’s mouth. But now he was intrigued. Ely erected in Philo’s hand, long and hard, not as huge as Philo’s monster, but quite impressive for someone with Ely’s build.

“I’m impressed, Ely,” Philo leaned to kiss his friend on the lips as he palmed the hard penis. “And it looks like your disfigured member is enjoying my caressing.”

“Not disfigured. Special,” Ely mumbled, his whole body shivering as Philo’s lips pressed on his own. “What’s better than that, Philo, is that this man always gives me things, other than the gold he pays the matron,” Ely confessed.

The Israelite groped under the mattress and pulled out a cloth bag with a string. He pulled the string open and emptied the bag. Gold coins, rings with rubies and emeralds, one golden locket, a foot bracelet woven with silver thread and some kind of small black jewels.

Philo looked at the glittering jewels and coin with amazement. “This is a treasure, Ely. What are you going to do with it? One day the matron or someone will find it and take it away.”

Ely laughed. “Remember Darbo? The Nubian? I met him two days ago when I went out for a while on an errand for Magnemonus. Darbo is now head-slave. Actually, he is your neighbor, Philo. The villa of Lord Pontius, his owner and master, is two villas down the road from your master’s. We sat and talked and he told me that there are things that have been happening in Rome, with the slaves. Something about a soldier-slave called Spartacus and a rebellion or something like that. I tell you, my friend, Darbo told me all kinds of weird happenings.”

Philo listened, wondering. This was the first time he heard of a soldier-slave called Spartacus. And what had this to do with their lot? He did notice that Karelius Pantius was turning a bit more edgy lately. Was there really a rebellion under foot? Were the senators afraid and concerned?

“All this talk has made me thirsty,” Ely said rising after he slid back the cloth pouch under the mattress. He left the room and came back with a basket of fruit and a pitcher of drink with two goblets. The two lads ate and drank and talked.

Finally, Philo rose. “Time to get back. I’ll try to come and see you again, Ely.”

Ely grabbed Philo and pulled him down, raising his tunic and stroking his cock lovingly.

“Not yet, pretty boy,” Ely said hoarsely as he turned around and bent over when Philo’s thick rod erected to its magnificent length. Applying some kind of cream inside his crack, Ely guided Philo’s huge member into his ass. Philo did not resist or hesitate. What was even stranger was his willingness and lust. Instead of his normal feeling of aversion for another male ass, Philo felt excited. He fucked his friend with passion, heaving with ecstatic pleasure as the tight hole gripped his cock shaft and squeezed on it. When he finally ejaculated, it was much more intense than his copulating with Cassandra. Her wet vagina around his cock was more often too slippery with all her juices for him to feel the rigid firmness of Ely’s tight tunnel milking his cock. He held Ely tight to him as he emptied his huge balls inside his friend, kissing his neck and grunting with every squirt.

As Philo started to get ready to leave, there was a commotion outside Ely’s room. Suddenly, the matron woman barged into the room, catching Philo and Ely still naked, with Philo’s cock hanging huge between his thighs. She stopped short, gazing at the monster cock. Then she looked at Ely, anger in her eyes.

“There’s a black slave outside who is begging to come and see you since he said that the master,” pointing at Philo, “is interested in black skin also. But I see that you have already finished.” She pointed at Philo’s tool, glistening with sperm and ass juice.

“Oh, no,” Ely said quickly, not bothering to hide his nakedness, nor the fact that cum was seeping out of his ass onto his thighs. “Tell the slave to come, My Lady. My lord is not finished yet.” He gave his leery smile indicating the virility and prowess of his new client.

The matron hesitated for a second, gazing at Philo’s semi-erection, but was soon appeased as Philo pressed a couple of coins in her hand, giving her one of his irresistible smiles.

“Tell the Nubian to come to me here, sweet Lady,” he said, still naked, still dangling his beautiful cock. “I have an appetite for black meat.”

“But, lord,” the matron mumbled, her eyes fixed on the amazing cock, “the black slave is not one of our boys.”

“Never mind,” Philo said, his voice emulating Karelius’s. “Just lead him to me.”

The woman left hurriedly and, a few minutes later, Darbo entered the room.

No need to describe the reunion of the three now-slaves. They hugged. Darbo got naked just in case the matron returned.

“So,” Philo said, a big grin on his face, “Darbo. Ely says we are neighbors.”

“It’s the second villa down the street from yours. I knew you were up at Karelius Pantius’s mansion. I tried to get to see you, but, Philo, you have one bad-assed housemaster.”

Philo laughed. “Yes, Master Thalpios. He doesn’t like me. Even though I offered my services a couple of times,” he added grabbing his dick and balls. “But he wasn’t interested.”

“I also heard,” Darbo said with a lewd smile on his dark and handsome face, “that you have become the lady of the house’s pet.”

“Do you want to call this a pet?” Philo said grabbing his cock shaft, gloriously covering his hanging balls, grinning widely.

“That is definitely not a pet,” Ely commented, biting his lower lip.

“I have tried many times to approach the villa,” Darbo continued, “but the eyes of your housemaster were everywhere. Until today, when I saw you leave the villa like a noble prince, followed by the two gladiators.”

“He is a noble prince,” Ely interrupted.

“All you like is his princely phallus, Ely,” Darbo teased.

“And so?” Philo prodded.

“So I followed you, hoping to get to catch you and talk.”

“But how were you able to leave your place? Aren’t the slaves there guarded?”

“They are,” Darbo said. “But since the day I arrived, I was trained to fetch goods from the market, mostly for the kitchens. So I can come and go as long as I was on an errand. They think that I will never consider escaping, since my skin color will stand out like a star in the whole of Rome no matter what disguise I used.”

“Come on, Darbo,” Ely said. “Tell Philo the real reason why they let you come and go as you like.”

Philo looked at Darbo questioningly.

Darbo hesitated. Then he took a deep breath and said: “Well, I have been servicing both mistress and master.”

“What?” Philo exclaimed. “You’re fucking them both?”

“And at the same time and in the same bed,” Ely added viciously, a wide grin on his face.

Darbo nodded. “The Mistress initiated it the second night Pontius bought me. She called for her husband to join, and he jumped right in, naked and lustful, more eager than her to grab and service my black erection.”

“And he fucked your ass?” Philo asked, his eyebrows raised, almost touching his curly hairline.

“As a matter of fact, I’m fucking both of them,” Darbo confessed. “They take turns. The master is not interested in being serviced himself although when I’m fucking him, his wife tends to his engorged dick with hand or tongue or lips. I knew he was after my cock even before he bought me. And I am giving it to him deep and sweet.”

“Awesome,” Ely put in, earning a hard gaze from Philo.

“So you see, I am given some liberty of moving around.”

“I see,” Philo nodded. “But let’s not talk about your virility with the noble people. What did you want to talk to me about? What’s this about Spartacus? Who is he? What’s going on?”

“Shhh,” Darbo hushed him and whispered: “Be careful, Philo. Never ever mention Spartacus by name out loud. The way I hear from other slaves is that this Spartacus has started some kind of uprising, of rebellion, of slaves against their masters. But if anyone hears you mention any of this, we will all be nailed to crosses at the gates of the city.”

It was the year 72 BC, and the initial escape of some seventy gladiator-slaves from a gladiator school in Capua had drawn thousands of escaping slaves, men, women and children, which the Roman legions were unable to subdue, for the rebellious slaves formed small bands under the general leadership of Spartacus, raiding estates of noblemen around the countryside and killing lords and ladies.

Philo listened carefully as the hushed voice of the Nubian told of stories and rumors that were all over the city.

“Can we do it?” Ely asked.

“We would need coins,” Darbo shook his head. “We need to bribe some people to assist us in any kind of escape.”

“And then we just go and kill Roman citizens?” It was Philo’s turn to ask, his eyes glittering with vengeance.

“Not that easy, Philo,” Darbo warned. “We don’t want to end being crucified on the Appian Way. I will find out more and then we can decide what to do. Can you come here often, Philo?”

“Not as often as I like,” Philo smiled grabbing Ely’s butt, “but I think I can arrange a quick visit every now and then. Cassandra will work it out for me, I’m sure.”

The three lads broke their meeting, their hearts full with wonder and hope and fear.

Philo’s days in the Pantius’s household had not been that bad. He considered himself lucky. Apart from the initial rape incident, Philo had not been mistreated. Being Cassandra’s lad gave him an elevated status among the other slaves. Whenever he desired something, all he had to do was whisper in Cassandra’s ear as his fingers played her body or his cockhead rubbed between her inner thighs.

That night, Cassandra’s reward from the young lad for getting him the permission to visit Ely was massive, even more intense than ever before. Philo went wild as he plowed into the eager vagina, splitting the woman’s thighs, making her scream with the ecstasy of virility that was pounding her sprawled body. He towered over her thrashing, naked body and smashed down on her and in her with the force of his huge cock, reaching deep into every corner of her insides.

In Philo’s mind, however, and as he fucked, were images of rebellion, of killing, of revenge, of driving steel staffs into the eyes and the hearts of all the Maleeks and the Magnemonuses and the Thalpioses and Dangar and Gaddock. Thrust after thrust, each with the venom and hate that the Levantine felt for each of the names and faces that he contemplated he would impale in the same way his hard rod impaled the whimpering and writhing woman under him.

Cassandra lay prone, her chest heaving, her body weakened from all the juices that kept flowing out of her sore vagina and onto the silk sheets under her, as her stud slave lay naked and glorious beside her, his thick rod yet unfulfilled and still rock hard, pointing straight up towards the silken canopy overhanging the bed, even after three or four ejaculations of thick cream which he fed the noble woman’s pussy as she flowed one orgasm after the other. Philo’s huge cock was covered with slime; his balls hung low and heavy between his muscled thighs and his thick pubes were totally drenched with sex juices. His rippled and smooth chest was sweaty, his eyes closed, his arms behind his head, and in his mind were the images of impaled pirates and Roman noblemen.

Cassandra rolled onto her side facing the Levantine. She reached over and caressed the boy’s smooth chest, her body still quivering from their bout of fucking. She licked around one of his pink and hard nipples, lightly biting it, teasing it, savoring the feeling of his man-body.

“So your friend is happy where he is?” she asked, as she rubbed around the spit-covered nipples.

Philo nodded, a smile on his face but rage inside his heart.

“Will you have to visit him often?” Cassandra added, reaching for the hard cock and gripping it lustfully. “You know I can’t keep convincing Lord Karelius to let you leave as you like.”

Without answering, Philo turned Cassandra onto her belly, and forcefully mounted her from behind, his engorged cock spreading her ass. It was the first time that Philo attempted ass-fucking her. But after Ely, he lusted to do it to her, especially since he knew that it was going to cause her pain. When he thrust and penetrated the hole, the woman screamed. Immediately two guards rushed into the room and froze when they saw the two naked bodies with Philo’s huge cock splitting their mistress’s ass in half. Cassandra waved them away, shouting: “Get out! Get OUT!”

The confused guards backed away, their eyes wide with amazement as Philo rammed Cassandra’s ass, not caring about the interruption. After the initial penetration, Cassandra started to enjoy the rod impaling her ass. Philo reached down under her and rubbed her clitoris as he plowed her butt. She begged for more. Philo gave her much more.

Alone in the servants’ quarters, crouching in a corner, Philo contemplated his position. It was going to be difficult in spite of his position of favor with the mistress. He was not concerned about pleasing Cassandra. She was never satiated and always wanted more. And he knew he could always make her happy. But how was he to remain in contact with Ely and Darbo under Thalpios’s suspicious eyes? Would they be able to make an escape? How would they be able to contact the rebel slave Spartacus. Would they be caught and crucified?

The young lad shivered with fear and uncertainty. But he also glowed with the anticipation of freedom and revenge.