The night continued on without further incident. The din of the main room, where Waxon, the esteemed Roman officer, oversaw the sexual perversions of over a dozen of his allies and admirers in the midst of an orgy, started to wane.
Cato sat on the edge of a stone bench, nibbling on a square of sharp cheese in one hand, and a crust of half eaten bread in the other. His gaze lingered on a crack in the stone wall not five feet in front of him, yet his eyes appeared distant, looking far beyond the imperfection.
The face of Thaddeus’s young ward overlay every thought that passed through his mind. The young man’s features, handsome, yet delicately beautiful, had captured his heart. His soft, light brown skin and slim, well tuned frame, the curve of his buttocks arcing toward his lower back. Cato could only imagine putting his hands upon him, feeling his supple body against his. Looking deep into his beautiful, olive green eyes.
The irony of this was not lost on Cato. Being the current scribe to a Roman Praetor with the ambition of a political climber, cynicism was his forte. Romantic ideas, with all of their fleeting glances, and yearning, bleeding hearts, was an allusion written in stories for women and children.
Not men.
Not for Cato’s father, the stoic inheritor of their admired family name. Yes, Lusidious Quirinus had married, and he had a number of mistresses, but this was the business of men with great legacies. Nothing more and nothing less.
This young man.
This was infatuation.
Cato had just fucked two of them in the other room. he would move on the moment another mouth wrapped itself around his cock
No…that was a lie.
Carried with the beautiful, wood green of the ward’s eyes was a resignation. A profound understanding that his life and death was weighted upon the longevity of his youth and beauty. Cato had seen this, and his heart was touched, not out of lust, longing, or sentimentality.
It was the emptiness of the young man’s gaze that moved him, and angered him.
A familiar crowd began to fill the dining hall, laughing, holding one another; cheerful, and exhausted. Most of Thaddeus's entourage were clothed now. Some came still half exposed, their cocks or breasts dangling out of frivolously tied togas. Some were being escorted by Albertus’s exoletis and meretrix, all youthful, beautiful experts at their trade, and still unclothed.
The merriment was now shifting toward food and drink. Servants not attending to the sexual needs of the party, bustled about carrying large bronze plates filled with fruits, breads, cheeses, venison, and goblets of sweet wine. This was truly a feast of decadence, and an expensive one at that.
Last to enter was Thaddeus Waxon, his ward, and his giant man, towering in their wake. Thaddeus was dressed in the golden breastplate of a Roman officer, molded to emulate a defined muscular torso. Attached to the breast plate was a long red cloak, and beneath both pieces was a clean white tunic that came down to his knees. His arms and legs were still exposed, as if to remind anyone how powerfully built he was. His ward wore no more clothes than he had in the bath, the white cloth with the golden string around his waist similar to before, but dry and clean. He held onto Thaddeus’s arm, led into the room with silent grace. He truly fit the part of his master’s image of power and prestige, like Salvator, the hulking man lumbering behind them.
The golden paint that had covered the huge man was washed away revealing veined, dark copper skin, marked by as many, if not more, scars as his master. Covering his manhood was a substantial, bulging, white and gold loin cloth. The golden mask was removed, revealing a broad face, large set nose, a full lipped grimacing mouth, and a thick jaw covered in a layer of patchy, black stubble. Like the young ward, he was also foreign. Persian perhaps; his hooded black eyes gazing around the room like a bird of prey. He was just as imposing as he had been, his herculean frame no less impressive, if not more so now that he was not covered in gold, and of course, befitting to Waxon’s tastes, he was unusually handsome in his own rugged, brutish way,
Cato wondered vaguely if Thaddeus’s wife, Antonia, knew this side of her husband. Of his taste for men. Cato’s own mother knew of his father’s exploits with young women, yet she opted to remain silent and dutiful, never wanting to appear the jilted shrew.
Cato admired his mother for this. At times he did see her sadness, yet she never failed to put on a face of the utmost grace and decorum when needed. He saw that as strength and pride for her family. She was a woman befitting her status. Cato hoped he’d find a woman like her someday to bear his children.
And yet…he still saw her sadness.
Not happy, yet, not unhappy.
Resigned.
Cato was glad to be a man, unchained by such duties.
And still, seeing the ward; Here was a young man not two years older or younger than Cato. A slave no doubt, dressed in the finest silk and gold, coveted above all others by his master, but a slave no less. Silent, dutiful, and obedient.
Albertus, having washed and changed into his own clean, white tunic and new, fig leafed wig, approached the equites, bowing before moving forward, and speaking into his parishioner's ear.
The eyes of both men fell upon Cato, who instead of looking away, returned a look of deference, giving Waxon a nod.
It was the right move.
Waxon, his dark piercing eyes probing the young man, nodded back, a look of agreeable acceptance coming to the edge of his lips. Albertus led Waxon over to him, the young ward still on his arm, Salvator staying nearby, standing and watching the room around them.
“Master Cato Quirinus, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the Equites of Ostia, Thaddeus Waxon.” Albertus proclaimed, throwing a covert wink in Cato’s direction as he bowed.
“Quirinus? The son of Lusidious Quirinus I gather?” Waxon asked, his voice somehow holding a hint of interest and coldness in equal measure. The man seemed to always keep a scowl on his face.
“I am.” Cato answered. His stomach clenched ever so slightly within the man’s shadow. Indeed he had an air of command, his back straight and nose raised allowing his eyes to look down at Cato. Cato was unnerved by him, but he didn’t allow his face to show it. “Master Waxon, your reputation proceeds you. It is an honor to be in your esteemed presence.” Cato said and stood, putting his hand to his chest and bowing his head respectfully.
Thaddeus’s searching eyes followed Cato’s face as he dipped his head. Another approving look came to his scarred face, and Cato knew he had done right again.
Cato’s father taught him how to read a man. To get a measure of him before he could get a measure of Cato. To hold his own intentions behind a gaze of respect and humility. No matter who the man, slave or emperor. Do this, and all his veils and pretenses will, in time, fall to the wayside, and the truth of the man would be revealed. Then and only then decide how to move forward.
Waxon was a powerful man. A dangerous man, and simple to understand.
Respect and reverence sustained him.
Pride and strength, his greatest assets.
Discipline and thinly veiled rage enforced his will.
Power and control, the culmination of it all.
This is what made him so dangerous. Thaddeus Waxon held no pretense. He sat naked and exposed, with no thought of modesty or discretion. He displayed his perversions for all to see. His command, absolute. With a look and gesture, a man nearly killed another, with little to no provocation.
Cato remained standing, averting his eyes as Waxon continued to scrutinize him. Once again, the correct thing to do.
The wise thing to do.
“I’ve met your father on multiple occasions. During assembly, though I have not attended in several years. I assume at your age, you attend now?”
“I do. I am the scribe of Praetor Trius.”
“Praetor Trius? A dithering old prick if I’ve ever known one. How has he managed to stay alive all this time?” Thaddeus asked, his dark eyes going to Albertus, who chuckled obligingly before getting the hint, and moving away, giving them privacy.
“I can’t say it has anything to do with me.” Cato said, putting on his own deprecating smile. Waxon raised his eyebrows and for the first time, a smile, or rather, small sneer came to his lips.
“May I join you?” Thaddeous asked, his cold eyes looking expectant.
“Yes of course.” Cato said, his pleasant, enthusiastic demeanor in striking contrast to the unsettling churning within his stomach. He gestured for Thaddeus to sit in his place and went around to the other side of the thick, low set wooden table, opposite of the man. The ward remained standing, his thin arm draped on Thaddeus’s shoulder, the serious expression never leaving his handsome face. Salvator also remained standing, his broad, sculpted back and wide, round muscled ass facing them. A plate of fresh food was immediately placed in front of them along with large bronze goblets of wine.
“The Praetor is a sturdy man. Smart as a whip. I’m simply there to see to his records and schedule.” Cato said, keeping eye contact with Waxon, while trying to keep them off the ward.
Waxon said nothing to this at first. Instead, his eyes continued to survey Cato, running up and down his toned chest and stomach.
“I’m sure a strong, strapping lad like you could find something more suitable for your…talents. Have you ever considered becoming a soldier?”
“I’ve been taught the ways of the sword from the day I could walk. My father required it. He also required daily extensive reading and study of mathematics, literature, philosophy, and physics. It turned out that I had more brains than brawn. Unlike your hulking man servant, I’m still the scrawny youth I was back in my adolescence.”
“I was not much bigger than you when I became the equites of a Roman officer, and I’ve had many of my own since.”
“I must ask then Master Waxon, and please forgive me, but why did you decide not to rise further in the ranks of officers. If I’m not mistaken, you were asked by the emperor himself to take the title of general.”
“Indeed.” Waxon said, his eyes thinning, not out of suspicion or agitation, but out of curiosity, impressed by Cato’s knowledge of his military career. “I had no desire to live my entire life as a direct servant to the crown. If I had, I would have not gained the hard earned wealth I labored for all these long years, and I would not be here, enjoying the fruit of those labors; a night of frivolity, dining with young men such as yourself.” A lurid gaze followed Thaddeus’s words, and, The unpleasant feeling of Cato’s food rising back up his throat threatened to over take him.
Thaddeus Waxon was a handsome man, rugged and masculine. If Cato had not witnessed what he had in the main room, he would have gladly shared a night with him exploring his powerful body and thick cock with his tongue. As it was, he had half a mind to abandon this great opportunity to procure this powerful ally. If he did, that would, wholly and truly, be the end of it. Cato would never get the chance again with this man.
He would never see the ward again.
Waxon’s hand reached back, the tip of his finger caressing his wards thin hand. His piercing eyes remained fixed on Cato, still undressed aside from a cloth around his waste, his strong, young, toned chest bare.
Cato understood, raised his cup to Waxon, a discerning look on his ow face. Waxon did the same, and after a brief interlude of eating and more conversing, Cato led Waxon, his ward, and Salvator to the private room he had procured earlier that night.
They were joined by a single exoletis this time, a muscular, blonde man, with a round plump ass, that, despite Cato’s current disposition, hardened his young cock.
Like before, Waxon watched, once again naked and free of adornments, sitting on a stone bench directly across the pool from Cato, his eyes fixed with depraved intensity on his new young companion. Cato gripped exoletis blonde hair, pulled him to his lips, and began kissing him deep and hard all the while keeping his eyes open, looking directly into Waxon’s face.
This was an exhibition. For Cato to show his prowess.
He would not disappoint
Cato’s eyes briefly met with the exoletis, then back at Waxon, signaling to the attendant that this was a show for the high ranking man before them. The exoletis immediately obliged, leaning down to suckle on Cato’s hard nipple, arcing his back so his ass spread, round and ripe, displayed for the equites. Cato slid his hands down his back and spread his glutes apart, licking his finger before fondling the pink, puckering anus and slapping the hard muscled buttocks. The exoleti moaned, reached back, and grabbed his ass, spreading his crack open more for Cato’s searching hands.
Waxon observed unmoving, his girth swelling between his muscular thighs. Spurred by this, Cato spread his own legs.
“Pleasure my cock.” He ordered.
The exoletis knew exactly what to do.
Slowly, he began to remove the cloth covering Cato’s long, throbbing cock, a smile coming to his face as he too looked toward Waxon. He pulled the cloth tight against it, rubbing his face, mouth and tongue against the fabric stretching over the thick shaft. Cato leaned back, resting on his elbows, flexing his torso to show his rigid stomach muscles, and causing his cock to bounce beneath the translucent cloth. The exoleti gave the cloth a few downward tugs, before pulling hard, and Cato’s large cock sprang out, fully erect.
Waxon let slip the faintest of reactions, but Cato saw it. The glint in his eyes, the twitch of his cock as it swelled more. The exoletis gripped Cato’s cock, a lurid grin on his face, admiring its size, before slipping his warm wet mouth around it.
Unprepared for how skillful the attendant was with his tongue and mouth, Cato let out a deep moan, his head falling back as hot pleasure surged through him. Cato sucked on his lower lip, and began pulling his nipple, unable to control the reaction to the intense feeling. He managed to look up again and saw Waxon stand.
It worked.
Waxon sauntered toward them, his large semi-erect cock swaying back and forth as he stepped into the water and came to Cato’s side. To Cato’s disappointment, the ward stayed where he was, his expressionless face gazing away. The giant Salvator remained with the young man, watching the proceedings, his own expression remaining as hard and stonelike as his body.
Waxon came close, his leg barely an inch from Cato’s face before stopping, his cock dangling inches before Cato’s lips.
Despite the unease again pulling at his stomach, Cato could not deny how handsome this man actually was. In his youth, he must have been quite the adonis. He smelled of a sharp, cloying fragrance, and his dark eyes glittered with desire as he took in Cato’s face and body. Cato reached up and rubbed his muscled inner thigh, his arm moving into Waxon’s pulsing member and smooth low hanging testicles. He didn’t take hold of his cock though. His hand went back to the blonde hair of the exoleti, and Cato closed his eyes, relishing in the pleasure of the exoletis warm mouth on his genitals.
Cato was going on primal instinct now. Men like Waxon were not there to pleasure, but to be pleasured. By taking his cock into his mouth, Cato would have lessened himself in the eyes of the powerful man. By a great degree no doubt.
It wasn’t a moment later before a rough hand glided up Cato’s hard abdomen, stopping at his pecs, massaging them firmly. Cato opened his eyes to see Waxon’s gaze, like a child discovering a new plaything, wandering over his body. His face inches from Cato’s, hot breath escaped thin lips, soft and raspy, wafting past Cato’s nose, smelling strongly with the grape of the vine. The other hand came to his face, his thumb resting on Cato’s cheek and lips. At such close proximity, Cato found he could not resist the man’s allure. His unwavering confidence. Cato pressed his tongue against it, tasting salt, then groaned as Waxon pinched his hard nipple. Cato allowed his chest to heave with pleasure with each tug, a laugh coming with each breath. This went on for several minutes more; Waxon admiring Cato’s body, all the while the exolite, who Cato planned on paying handsomely for playing his part so well, continued to worship Cato’s cock.
Waxon’s hand went down the exoletis back, reaching his muscled ass and slapped it hard. The exoletis rose from Cato’s cock and looked up. Waxon, having sat next to Cato, legs spread, looked down at his own pulsing shaft, his eyes ordering the young man to service it. Without hesitation the man began to expertly deep throat Waxon’s impressive girth, not quite as long as Cato’s, but thicker. With a grunt of pleasure, Waxon reached down and grabbed Cato’s throbbing member, shaking it.
“A real man if I’ve ever seen one…” He murmured, and rubbed his hand over the sensitive head, causing Cato to buck. “Fucking horse cock.” He growled in admiration and stroked it several times. He looked up at his two servants, and for a heart stopping moment, Cato thought he would call over his ward.
“Come Salvator. Show the young master what real pleasure is.” Waxon commanded,
Salvator lumbered forward, his thick legs carrying him into and through the water. Standing two feet lower in the pool from the raised step Cato and Waxon sat upon. Salvator’s mass still seemed to tower over them both. Cato did his best not to shrink back as the copper skinned giant gazed down at him before bending to his knees and taking a grip of Cato’s cock. His lips were surprisingly soft, and with one dip of his head, Salvator consumed all eight inches of Cato’s manhood.
“Nguuuhhh!” was all Cato could get out as his hips raised up, his head falling back as the nerves in his cock fired up. Salvator’s tight throat clenched his sensitive head, squeezing firmly as he flexed his throat muscles around it before rising up with a loud satisfying slurp.
“Fuuuck…” Cato groaned, his ass falling back to the stone step, splashing into the warm water. Waxon had in no way overstated Salvator’s skill. This was another level of pleasure. He went down again and again, long deep strokes across his tongue into his throat.
Cato, suddenly unbidden by the subtle game he had been playing with Waxon, had no control of his body as he grunted and jerked from the powerful shivers radiating out his cock into his body. One of Salvator’s large hands came up to Cato’s chest, finding his nipple and pulled deftly, accentuating the powerful surges going through Cato. Overcome, a laugh came with the grunts and moans. He looked at Waxon, whose rough hands had not left Cato, still worshiping his young body, caressing his lips and cheek, his fingers running through his dark brown hair, a strained deeply carnal expression on his scarred face.
Swept up in the powerful pleasure, Cato stood and grabbed the back of the giant man’s head and started pushing his cock in, plunging it into his throat over and over again. Salvator’s large hands clenched Cato’s ass, pushing it in deeper. Cato pushed his hands away. He was the one in control, the dominus to this massive, monstrous man. It gave him a feeling unlike anything he’d experienced before.
Cato reveled in it.
Lost himself in it.
Waxon watched from below, the gaze of a man oblivious to his own cock being worshiped.
“Fuck him.” Cato ordered, pulling Salvator away from his member. He flicked his head toward the exoletis’s spread ass. Salvator wiped his mouth of saliva, sloshed through the water, stopping behind the exolrttes still busy with pleasuring Waxon.
Cato had never seen a cock the size and girth of Salvator’s; a full inch longer than his own, with more girth than the Waxon’s own fat member. It arched to the left, veins snaking down the thick brown shaft, into a bush of black hair where his bunched up testicles hung low, the size of an apple. If there was a person with a cock comparable to a horse, it was Salvator.
The cock of a minotaur indeed.
His biceps flexed as he grabbed the exoletis’ muscled ass and placed it into position. Cato watched with fevered anticipation as Salvator slowly pushed the tip of it into his anus. As if struck by a jolt of lightning, the attendant released Waxon’s cock, sucking in his breath and letting out a cry of painful pleasure. Inch by inch, Salvator pushed his cock further in, causing the exoleti to stand, eyes wide, gooseflesh spreading across his smooth skin.
“NGUUUUHH!” The man’s back arched as Salvators cock slid in up to his mule size testicles.
Salvator pressed a giant hand against his back and pushed him back down before slowly pulling out, then pushing back in. With each long deliberate thrusts, the blonde man’s voice came to a higher pitch. Cato came to notice that Salvator was being far less aggressive to the exoleti than he had been earlier to Thaddeaous’s guests. The servant was in ecstasy, enjoying every inch of Salvator’s massive shaft, the pleasure so intense it was causing his body to vibrate. Cato stood in front of Salvator and presented his cock, and Salvator commenced to suckle the tip while fucking the exoletis.
Cato gazed down at Waxon, whose pleased expression somehow still didn’t match his cool eyes. This aroused the older man in a way that was more than sexual. It was deep and primal.
It was at this point that Waxon stood and went back to his ward, still standing by alone, not once looking in their direction. It seemed Waxon had finished taking the measure of Cato, and liked what he found.
Cato gripped a tuft of Salvator’s coarse hair and pushed his cock again and again into his throat, a smile on his lips as he looked at Thaddeus Waxon, but he was no longer watching, His gaze was now upon his ward, drinking him in like a man lost in the desert. LIke with Cato, his hands roamed over his smooth body, squeezing his buttocks, caressing every inch of his torso. The tips of the ward’s fingers stroked his master's engorged cock, which pulsed and started to leak semen from twitching testicles with each pass.
Cato’s heart began to pound, the feeling in his cock within Salvator’s mouth amplifying ten fold as his mind’s eye replaced Waxon. What he would do to be holding the beautiful young man like that.
The ward’s face held to its almost expressionless state, neither pleasure nor distaste held within his eyes.
Cato wondered what it would be like if they looked up at him. If he could bring life into them.
Happiness perhaps.
It was then that they left Waxon and rose to meet with Cato’s lingering gaze, and for the first time they shown with something.
A strong, uncomfortable build up filled Cato’s throat.
He stopped thrusting his cock into Salvator’s mouth, fully taken by this young man who stared fully at him, but there was no thrill there. No happiness.
There was judgment…sadness…and condemnation for the briefest of moments, but it was there, in an instant, and gone the next.
The ward’s gaze went back to his master, looking down at the man sitting on the bench, who looked up, his arms wrapped around his soft, slim body. The ward caressed his master’s face and hair so gently, and like some sort of enchantment, took away the cold, hard glint from his eyes, leaving behind something earnest and wanting.
Cato’s eyes fell down to Salvator, who had the exoleti in a fit of wailing ecstasy, sweat glistening off his body. Salvator stared straight ahead, a grimace of concentration as he fucked the man sensless. Like the man during the orgy, he was causing his cock to spurt semen. Each thrust sent out another glob dripping into the water. The man was a wailing rag doll, his back pressed up against Salvator's chiseled body, held up in the man’s massive arms. The size difference between the two was remarkable.
With one more powerful thrust, Salvator held his cock in, grinding his pelvis into his ass, pushing his cock in as deep as it could go. A gush of semen dribbled from the exoleti’s cock. A gutteral, shaking groan escaped his lips, and he fell forward, spent. Salvator pulled his enormous, still erect cock, now covered in white cream, out of his ass and let go of the man, causing him to tumble forward between Cato’s legs. Giving his ass one last hard slap, Salvator looked up at Cato; a great, obedient beast waiting for his next order. Cato’s own cock had deflated, as had his face.
It was Salvator’s turn to stare him down, waiting. His grisled face remained hard, and as Cato looked at him, what he saw broke him out of his stupor.
Salvator’s eyes softened, and fell, ever so slightly.
He then turned and walked out of the pool, leaving the exoleti convulsing with pleasure, and Cato stunned.
Cato’s gaze followed the enormous man as he returned to his position in front of his master. His cock had gone down, but Cato realized he had not ejaculated, emphasizing what Cato had already come to understand.
A seasoned exoletis, versed in the ways of pleasure; strong, in the prime of his life, now lay prone, writhing on the floor, shuddering with after shocks of a powerful orgasm. Salvator had used him like a rag, his trunk of a cock dripping with water and the juices of the exoleti’s anus, and tossed him aside. He made no attempt to satisfy himself. He simply returned to his master, cock still half erect, ready for the next command.
What power Waxon had to possess to hold power over such a person.
He had hardly noticed Salvator’s return as he lay back on the stone bench, straddled by his ward, who now slid his open anus down Waxon’s erect cock.
The first true moan of pleasure escaped the lips of Thaddeus Waxon as his ward went up and down, causing Cato’s skin to crawl, the churn in his stomach to return stronger than ever before. Tense short breaths the only sound coming from the ward as his master sat up, running his tongue over his thin chest and stomach, savoring every inch.
So this is what power looked like, real power.
A person able to quench his every desire whenever he pleased.
His every whim obeyed, unquestioning, by the most powerful of men.
But at what cost for the ones fulfilling those wants?
Was this what Cato’s father spoke of?
If so…Cato, looking down at his own naked body, confirmed what he had profoundly come to determine when he first laid eyes on the ward.
Waxon had given him a taste of its sweetness, and Cato wanted nothing to do with it.
