The Story of Philo

Nothing could alleviate Philo’s misery. The darkness, the stink, the feeling of helplessness, the coercion by the slimy slave master, even the rocking of the boat, all collaborated in making the proud young man from the Levantine mountains the saddest person in the world.

Ely was made to dress an apron-like garment to cover his nakedness from the front, tied with a cord around his waist, keeping his back and butt exposed, his milky-white butt mounds sticking out. Philo, however, was made to wear a loin pouch, the string buried taut inside his crack between his muscled and bubbled butt cheeks, and the pouch enveloping his cock and balls, accentuating their impressive size. The other slaves wore a variety of clothes, if the rags on them could be called clothes.

“It’s not that bad, Philo,” Ely would whisper. “It could be much worse.”

“Easy for you to say that, Israelite,” Philo heaved. “Easy for you.” And tears would flow down his cheeks silently. He was humiliated to the utmost degree, this proud and healthy young lad. Trying to hide the tears, he felt somewhat comforted by the presence of the Israelite, even though Ely sometimes got on his nerves.

Even the other slaves in the hold, especially Darbo, the Nubian, were friendly to the two lads and tried their best to make life in their slime prison tenable. Ely’s heart wept for his proud friend. He knew that Philo felt responsible for him and his safety. He, however, was not aware that Philo had accepted to do abominable things against his will and desire with the slaver in order to protect him. Ely swore to himself, and then, trembling, to his austere Yahweh, that he would do his utmost to make sure that nothing bad happened to his Philo.

“This is fate, young Philo,” Darbo would say as he came close, as close as the chain around his ankle would let him. “And fate is a wheel. It turns. At one instance, you are the king of your world; at another, you become the dregs in the bottom of the barrel. At least the fucking Maleek is not whipping your ass.” He would rub the Levantine’s muscular thigh up and down soothingly.

“I will kill the fucker,” Philo would respond venomously, sparks shooting from his eyes. “Hear me well, Nubian. One day I will slit this son of a whore’s throat from one side to the other. I will let him bleed as I kick his head and step on his crotch with my foot and press and press until I hear the crunching of his fucking skull. I will watch the pig gurgle on his own filthy blood. I will…” Philo’s voice would rise higher with every sentence, and then he would sob as Ely wrapped a scrawny arm around his wide shoulders and Darbo patted his thigh.

The point of it all was that Philo was more humiliated and miserable than the rest of the kidnapped youths in the slaver ship’s hold. Ely was an outcast to begin with. He had been beaten and thrown out of his village by his own folk. Darbo and the others had been salves for some time, ever since Maleek acquired them from a “colleague” pirate who had kidnapped them from the hills up the Nile river months before. Maleek had paid a handsome sum for those slaves, especially Darbo, with his coal-black silken skin, his large endowment, and his pearl-white teeth. Only Philo, Philo the “chosen” one, the son of Astarte, in a way, the brawny god-like young lad, with a flow of blood filling his enormous equipment that pleased the women and made the men envious. Philo sobbed hard. Ely hugged him.

Every morning, Dangar and Gaddock lowered the rope ladder and climbed down to unshackle the slaves. They would then herd them up onto the deck. Another crew member doused them with cold water, checked each of them for fleas and lice, made them walk around the boat for ten minutes, and then pushed them back down into the hold to be shackled again.

Philo would be left behind, however, and taken to Maleek’s cabin where the slave master fellated him, not daring to go any further for fear of spoiling the merchandise. He was even tempted to let the hung lad mount him, but he was afraid that Philo, with untied hands and feet, might do something stupid. Although he had nowhere to run, the boy might act in anger and do some harm. Maleek was not born yesterday, and he could tell by the expression on the lad’s face as he slobbered on his huge cock that Philo would not hesitate for one second to throttle him to death. Still, Maleek’s desire to have the hung lad fuck him too enormous not to be able to come up with a way where he could do it without posing any dangerous risks.

On the other hand, Philo felt like a billy-goat being fed and milked daily by the master. It was weird how his manhood did not heed his humiliation and misery, but erected hard at the feeling of wetness and warmth bobbing up and down his long and thick shaft. Philo would close his eyes and try to fantasize Salimana’s red and full lips working his cock. Some days, it was Ely that he saw in his mind’s eye, gobbling and slobbering, choking and gagging, moaning and grunting. The result was always a hard squirting load down the sleazy slave master’s throat.

In return, Philo received special treatment. Nutritious food to stay fit, constant washing to avoid any scabies or tuberculosis, daily checking for fleas, no whipping or flogging that would leave scars on the beautiful teenager’s skin.

But Philo did not really appreciate the special treatment. It felt like feeding the calf before the slaughter. He very well knew where they were taking him and what they would do to him once they got there. He had heard stories from his cousins about pirate ships roaming the seas, kidnapping boys and girls and selling them as slaves. Hadn’t he and Ely just seen those two poor boys in the Byblos black-market shop being fondled and prodded and probed by sleazy old men? Was this how he would end? Philo’s whole body shivered violently with anxiety mixed with fear.

Still, Philo kept fit and made sure that Ely was well fed and well treated. Although the sailors gaped at Ely’s exposed buttocks as the slaves took their morning exercise, no one dared to approach the Israelite. They would scamper to different corners and masturbate instead, a few of them drooling over Philo’s pronounced loin pouch, hearing rumors spread by Dangar and Gaddock about the length and girth of the lad’s endowment.

It took ten days and nights for the sailing boat to reach the Roman shores. The sea was mild, the wind strong, the slaves at the oars sweating, and the voyage uneventful.

The slaves were taken ashore by Maleek’s helpers, Dangar and Gaddock.

“Listen, you oafs,” Maleek warned the two men. “This is merchandise. They are to be tied and guarded at all times. Never to be mistreated though. Any damage to any one of them, especially the Levantine boy and his Israelite sissy-girl, will be severely punished.” He waved his whip to accentuate his threatening words.

“Yes, master,” the two pirates said in unison. “Of course, master.” They were already considering how they were going to spend their share of the sales.

“Good. Now tend to them while I go and arrange for a show, perhaps as soon as tomorrow. See what we can sell, how much money we can get. I also need to get some ornaments to package our merchandise.”

Maleek whispered to Dangar out of the slaves’ earshot: “Make sure they see how the other slavers treat their slaves. Let them thank their gods that they had ended up with me. You hear?”

The streets of the grand city of Rome were bustling with people and animals and carriages. They were also stinking with the smell of dirty water and muck that streamed in the cracks between the cobblestones.

Philo stared, his mouth wide open, amazed at the abundance of goods of all kind, of food stalls, of fruits and vegetables, of the richness. He had never seen so much plenty in his whole young life and he thought of the poverty and frugality of his own village, Teshret.

The noise was deafening. Some people stood in doorways watching the slave caravan parading, heading for the city square. They knew that an auction would be held soon, and some of the wealthy-looking men hurried inside their houses to check on their gold pouches in case they got lucky since those slaves looked quite healthy, a couple of them downright attractive. The women gossiped and shrieked with laughter every now and then, gazing at the young lads herded to be sold. Pointing, gossiping some more, shrieking even louder.

Ely led the pack, his buttocks now covered with a tiny patch of cloth, followed by Philo and the rest of the slaves. They were all in awe at the size of the city as they meandered through its streets and alleys, by the grandeur and wealth mixed with the squalor and filth. Lords and partisans in carriages passed by and the slaves had to make way otherwise they would get whipped or worse, run down. Other slaves ran here and there on chores for their masters. Prostitutes stood in the doorways in skimpy tunics, baring their ample breasts and their thick thighs, hooting and cackling at the boys as they were driven through.

“Look at that black boy,” one of them remarked. “I bet he has something good dangling between his legs.”

“Oh, what a whore you are! You always think of dongs,” her companion said. “The one in the front looks like a girl.”

“We know where he would be sold to,” the first one said, and they snickered and pointed, their breasts hanging low over their protruding bellies.

The boys heard some of the remarks but they tried their best to ignore them. Their futures seemed to be so unsure that they were not touched by the snickers and the remarks of the Romans, even though they understood almost nothing of the foreign languages all around them.

What would a slave have to do to please his master, Philo wondered? What was a male brothel like, Ely wondered? What would be like to screw a white mistress, Darbo speculated? And so on. Thoughts: wild, fearful, crazy, erotic, sad, terrified. The would-be slaves trod the cobblestoned pathways led by Dangar with Gaddock bringing up the rear.

They all gathered in one of the squares around a water fountain encircled by statues of naked men and women. Water sprouted through marble tits and penises. The boys rested, dipping their bound hands into the water and splashing their faces.

Philo looked around him, mesmerized by Rome. His eyes lit on one corner of the square. Oh, gods, he started with horror. A similar scene as the one back in the slave shop in Byblos was playing here. Except there were two naked boys and two naked girls tied to waist-high poles around the entrance to the shop. Philo watched as two older men, who looked like lords because of their rich togas lined with purple and gold, ran their hands over the bodies of the naked girls and boys, grabbing, rubbing, stretching, poking.

“Look, Ely,” Philo whispered in a trembling voice. “The corner.”

“Oh, dear Yahweh,” Ely muttered. “Is this how we are going to be treated?”

Again with horror, the two lads watched as the slaver held his whip and lashed one of the boys on the back of his legs when the boy tried to move his bare butt away from the probing fingers of the buyer.

“In front of everyone?” Ely said. “No one cares?”

Darbo the Nubian snickered. “You’ve seen nothing, boys. You should see what happens to these slaves if one of the buyers is serious and takes them inside the shop for more fingering. I’ve heard stories and stories.”

“So you find this funny?” Philo turned to the black lad angrily, his red lips quivering.

“I find this is life, Philo, my friend.” Darbo smiled widely, showing his white teeth. “So what if it’s a probing finger? A pinch? A grab? This is nothing. Just wait and see.”

Sure enough, one of the boys at the corner shop was untied and led by a rope around his neck inside the shop followed by the rich, old man. Philo stood up.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, slave?” Dangar growled, rising and extending his whip.

“Come on, Dangar,” Philo pleaded. “I want to see what’s happening inside that shop.”

Dangar laughed heartily, joined by all the others. “Do you want to buy a slave, slave?” he teased.

“Just for a moment,” Philo insisted. “If you do, I’ll let you … you know… touch me down here,” he grabbed his crotch, “when we get back to the boat and won’t tell Maleek.”

Dangar glanced at Gaddock, almost salivating. Gaddock shook his shoulders: “I won’t say nothin’ either, if I also get a feel.”

Dangar led the chained caravan toward the shop. Just before they were close enough to look inside, a burly man, half-naked, with a mean whip in his hand, stopped them.

“Not allowed,” he barked.

Dangar gazed at the man’s face: “Is that you, Jandi?”

“Yeah. Oh. Dangar! Fuck! It’s been years.”

The two had been sailors on the same boat before Dangar left to join Maleek’s pirate crew, and apparently Jandi had done the same with another slaver.

“It has. It has. So you’re working for this slaver, then?” Dangar wrapped a hand around Jandi’s wide shoulders.

“Yah. Want to look inside?”

Maleek’s slaves crowded around the shop’s door. Philo gazed as he watched one of the rich lords pull on the boy’s penis, making it hard. He took a wire from under his toga and measured the erected cock. Then he stroked the boy. Philo gritted his teeth. How could this be allowed? What kind of people were these Romans? Philo knew that they had slaves back in Byblos and other cities, but they served in houses and were never displayed and humiliated in public like this. The poor boy slave couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Philo’s eyes watered as he saw the man pour some oil on his fingers and push a finger up the poor boy’s ass, who was made to bend over. The other nobleman was gripping the boy’s hanging balls and applying some pressure on them. The boy’s facial expression showed great pain.

With a jerk, Philo stepped back pulling on the chain that held the others and dragged them all back to the fountain. He tried his best to hide the tears that were streaming down his handsome face. No one in the group uttered a sound, each of them swarmed with his own fears.

“It’s set for tomorrow,” the slave master said as he approached the group of lads, carrying a large package wrapped in cloth. “I have reserved the Saepta. It’s the most exclusive slave market in Rome. Now, let’s get back to the boat and hope that tomorrow will bring us good luck.”

“Good luck for your ass, goat-fucker,” mumbled Philo, still seething.

Maleek ignored the crack and motioned for Dangar and Gaddock to get going.

Back on the slave ship, the slaves were kept down in the hold, chained, for fear of any attempt to escape, now that the ship was moored. Maleek called Dangar over.

“Go get me the Levant boy,” he ordered, feeling frisky, especially now that the time for him to give up suckling on Philo’s huge dong had arrived.

“But master, perhaps you would reconsider? It’s not safe. The slave might try to escape.”

“Not with his dick in my mouth. I’d bite it off.”

Both men hooted. “I never thought, master, that you liked… ummm… you know… the penis?”

“I like what I like, son of a whore,” Maleek licked his lips. “Man needs to get off whichever way. Find me a woman in the middle of the sea and I’ll forgo the penis.”

“What about the butt?” Dangar was feeling more forward now that his boss had accepted such intimate conversation.

“I’ve fucked butt. Male and female… don’t matter to me nothin’, asshole.”

“I meant ah… you know… ummmm… the other way round?”

Maleek stared at Dangar, noticing the sleazy leer on the latter’s face.

“Fuck your mother and your sister, bastard,” Maleek grunted. “Fuck. Yes. So what? Yes. I would take that kid up my butt. You have any problem with that?”

“Don’t be mad, my master,” Dangar said, rubbing his crotch.

“Get the fuck out of here, and get me the lad.”

Dangar scurried out, a smirk on his face, an erection inside his baggy and filthy pants. He would jerk off later, fantasizing about the sissy-girl’s white butt with his erection buried inside it. Or better yet, visit one of the brothels along the quays. Even much better, get to feel the Levantine’s huge monster of a penis.

Maleek kneeled in front of Philo, undid the strap holding the loin pouch, and let out a deep breath as he cupped the huge dick and hanging balls in his beefy fist. He felt the enlargement of the monster tube in the palm of his hand as blood started to stream into it with vigorous pumping. He stroked lovingly and looked up at the beautiful face of the young lad, even though Philo had a stony and far-away look.

“Listen, boy. You know that I can make things difficult as well as easy for you, don’t you?”

Philo remained frozen although his penis was reacting to Maleek’s fisting and stroking. Maleek pressed on the balls and Philo squirmed. “Don’t you?”

Philo nodded, without looking down at the sleazy slaver.

“I could sell you to the highest bidder, whoever he or she may be. That’s what I have a mind to do. But…” and he stroked the fully-erected young cock slowly, “I could choose a slimy old senator and sell you to him, who will fuck you and make you suck on his shriveled dick, making your life miserable. On the other hand,” Maleek licked the pink cockhead, “I could choose a pretty high-born lady who appreciates what you got here,” continued the slave master, pulling on the hard cock, “and sell you to her even though she might not pay as high as the slimy and lecherous senator.”

Philo glanced down at the upraised and ugly face of the man kneeling in front of him and stroking his dick. He remained silent, waiting for what evil the lowly creature was thinking of. In his mind, he kept visualizing the poor boy-slave being poked in the ass and squeezed in the nuts back in the Roman square.

“I want you to fuck me,” declared the man unabashedly, standing up, not letting go of the hard rod in his hand. “If you do, and I like it, the remainder of your life will be rosy.” He looked straight into Philo’s eyes. “Well?”

Philo felt his stomach churn. The notion of inserting his pride in this fucker’s sleazy butt hole was so abhorrent to him that he felt like throwing up right onto Maleek’s wrinkled and bearded face. But his experiences so far had taught him to be more careful, more wily, had taught him to use his assets to improve his status and his life in general. His dick had responded, hard and throbbing. He could fantasize about Salimana’s boobs or Ely’s mouth. He was growing up, getting much smarter, more able to control his feelings and desires and work to improve his lot.

After a few moments, Philo forced himself to draw the shade of a smile on his handsome face, a nod. Instantly Maleek dropped his pants, turned around and bent over the cluttered wooden desk.

“Put some spit on it first, boy, and go slow,” Maleek’s excited voiced echoed inside the cabin.

As if in slow motion, Philo advanced, placed his cock at what he thought must be a hole and thrust hard. Maleek’s muffled scream came immediate and agonized as the thick knob stretched his rim muscle forcefully. The slaver had had cock up his ass a few times, but never this thick; he had never experienced such excruciating pain, as the lad shoved into him. Philo pressed harder and felt his knob pop inside the ring which clamped under the ridge preventing him from driving deeper.

Maleek was panting and squirming, but not moving away. “Hold it, boy,” he grunted. “Just fucking hold.”

But Philo viciously thrust hard, forcing the smutty ass ring to stretch around his invading shaft, not minding the pleading of the bent-over slaver.

“HOLD! Oh, hold. Oh,” Maleek whimpered, as the fat cock plundered endlessly into his body.

Philo forced his mind to shut down and left his instincts for sex drive his body. He pounded deep and incessantly, his hips thrusting with all his youth and vigor, ramming the exposed hole, with vengeance. He kept repeating to himself that it was Salimana’s thick thighs that he was humping, that it was Ely’s throat that he was jamming. His grunts were animalistic, filled with revenge and retaliation. His man cock probed and lunged mercilessly. When he finally exploded, his semen flooded the fucked body of the bent-over slaver and seeped out onto the spread hairy thighs, and still he squirted inside the cavity offered to him.

Throughout the whole action, which could not have lasted more than a few minutes, Philo maintained complete silence, prodding and thrusting like a piston machine. He only emitted four or five deep animal grunts as he dropped his load into the slave master’s insides. Maleek, however, pleaded for mercy, begged for more force, grunted as his bowels were pressed by the invading rod, shouted with ecstasy as he squirted his own load down onto the cabin’s floor, cried with pleasure, screamed with pain, unbelievably rocked by the youth shafting him from behind.

Philo pulled out silently, his smooth chest glistening with sweat, trying his best not to think about where his cock had been, and stood without moving, waiting, his cock still hard and dripping cum, the upper half of it brownish in color with the slaver’s filthy butt juices.

Maleek grabbed a rag and wiped his sore and dripping ass, pulled up his pants and faced the perspiring boy. Not a boy, thought Maleek. This lad was more man than one thousand studs. There was a fleeting surge of sympathy that such a beautiful specimen was soon to be put up to slavery. But business was business, wasn’t it? He unhappily tied the strings of the loin pouch around Philo’s lithe waist, his hands lingering achingly against the smooth skin covering the rippled muscles. The boy stood motionless, seething inside, but completely devoid of any emotional expression on the outside. He was learning. Ely and Darbo would be proud of him.

“Did you fuck him?” Ely whispered as Philo dropped onto the dank straw, exhausted, his naked torso still glinting with beads of sweat covering the smooth skin. “You did! You fucked his ass,” the Israelite almost jumped. Darbo crept close.

“Oh yes,” Darbo nodded his head sagely. “I’ve seen this expression. It’s a just-fucked expression, Ely.”

“Oh, ho,” Ely said excitedly. “My boy fucked the master!”

“Shut the fuck up, Ely,” Philo admonished, still out of breath.

“But you did, Philo. You drove your monster cock up the bastard’s ass. You did!”

Philo punched Ely in the stomach, not too roughly, but as an indication for him to keep his trap shut.

“You know nothing,” Philo said sternly. “You heard nothing. You saw nothing. Do you understand? Even before my semen dries inside his ass, the sleazy Maleek is going to forget and will take revenge if this is known among his men, that his ass got invaded by a man cock. Do you hear? Ely? Please, my friend. Just let it go.”

Ely nodded and was silent. But the smirk on his face was jubilant. He instinctively leant toward Philo and kissed the side of his neck. Then, the two boys laughed and Philo hugged Ely into him.

“You smell of sex,” Ely couldn’t help but jibe at Philo.

“Philo is right, Ely,” Darbo said, a serious look on his face but the touch of a smile around his full, red lips. “Let’s all not mention any of this. Maleek got fucked by a horse dick. So what? Let’s not make our lives more miserable than what they already are.”

“You know, Philo,” Ely whispered. He just could not get it off his mind. “I would have expected Maleek to try to get into your butt, not the other way around.”

Philo remained silent.

“You never know, Ely,” Darbo said. “You can’t tell about a man by what he looks like.”

“Then why do people assume that I want it up my butt as soon as they look at me?”

“Because you do want it up your butt,” Philo smiled.

“That’s my man,” Ely grinned back widely, his hand inside Philo’s muscled thigh. “What’s going to happen tomorrow?”

The whole bunch of them laughed out loud at Ely’s naïve question. Somehow, the laugh sounded full of sadness.