Zelamir

Helot

Chapter 16

Indeed Ayas was filthy. His body was caked dirt. Through the greyish mixture of congealed sweat and dust that covered his skin darker patches showed, especially on his knees and legs, where he had stumbled and grazed himself, drawing blood. His hair was matted and unkempt. The remains of the porridge that he had so eagerly devoured had run down his chin and smeared his face about his mouth. Some had even got onto his nose when he had tried to lick the bowl clean.

And he itched everywhere. The irritation was so great that he could not keep still. Even as the hag kept a firm grip of his arm he tried to raise his bound hands to scratch his desperately itching scalp.

The woman looked keenly at him.

"It’s like that is it," she said grimly.

Transferring her grip on the boy’s arm to the back of his neck she drew his head forward and down. Her fingers parted Ayas’ hair and he felt her breath on the top of his head as she bent forward to examine his scalp.

"Fleas and lice," she said in a disgusted tone of voice. "Why the Master, as fine a Spartan gentleman that there ever was and who could afford to have the pick of the slave markets of Corinth, chooses to fuck the bottoms of filthy Helot brats like you I can never understand. Vermin carrying vermin that’s what the likes of you are…."

"I try to be clean…I only started itching real bad this morning….They must have come from the dog…"

Ayas’ protests were broken short by a hefty clout on the ear.

"Shut up filth," the hag screamed hitting the boy again on the other ear, "what does it matter whether you picked up the lice from the dog or the dog picked them up from you. Either is equally likely I’d say, a couple of nasty dirty animals the pair of you. What matters is the Master has taken a fancy to fuck your tight little rump and I’ve got to get you cleaned up so he can do so without picking up nits and the Gods know what else from your smelly little carcass."

"Now kneel down and I’ll crop your head. Your too young to have any hair on any other part of your body, which is a mercy, though the Master wouldn‘t want you if you did. He likes his sluts young."

Grumbling to herself the old woman seated herself on the door step and forcing Ayas onto his knees at her feet set about hacking his hair from his head with a pair of sheep sheers. Ayas, his ears still ringing from the woman’s blows, submitted to this silently apart from the occasional squawk of protest when the sheers tugged painfully at his hair. Clumps of hair, shorn from his head, fell onto his bare shoulders and formed a dark glistening circle on the ground about his knees.

About them, the seated woman and the naked kneeling boy, the life of the yard and the great house went on regardless. Occasionally a man or woman passing nearby them would throw out a bawdy comment or obscene suggestion. Otherwise no one took any notice of them. All the time the woman mumbled on to herself about the virtues of her master, his glorious ancestry, his beauty as a boy, his good looks as a grown man, his strength, his courage, his wealth (authors note by the time of the period in which this story is set some at least of the Spartans had become corrupted and the ancient laws of Lycurgus were increasingly evaded), the fleetness of his horses and how strange it was with all this he liked little Helot boys, filthy little animals, scum of the earth, useless good for nothing vermin. All of which made Ayas realise that the soubriquet "mother" was applied to the hag in appreciation of her age not her good nature.

Having cropped Ayas’ hair as close to his skull as she could manage the old woman set about washing the boy. The hot water in the bucket had a strange pungent smell and it stung horribly as she swabbed the boy down with a rag. Ayas wriggled and whimpered as the water got into the many open cuts and scratches on his body earning himself a hard open handed slap on the rump and an order to be still..

The woman was thorough and there was not a square inch of Ayas’s body that was not sponged and cleaned. She worked down his body, first his head, behind the ears, inside the ears, the nostrils, down his chest. Then she ordered him to his feet and telling him to lift his bound hands clear of his crutch she began sponge between his legs.

"You’ve not got much down here," she remarked, pulling his balls to one side so as to wash behind them, "no bigger than a couple of garden peas I doubt if you’ll notice when the Master has you gelded."

"Though," she continued as she took the boy’s small twig like prick in one hand and it immediately hardened and stood upright, "you seem a hot little whore."

She rolled the boy’s foreskin back and sponged the dirt and sweat that had accumulated under it.

"He’ll have that off you soon enough…serves no purpose….just collects filth…but till he does the job I’ll have to keep behind it clean and a mucky little brute like you can’t be trusted to do that yourself."

Ayas’ legs were the most painful part of his body to be washed because they had been badly cut about and grazed the previous day when he had been forced to run behind the bailiff’s pony as he was brought to Xionedes’ house. Then the whole process had to be repeated with his back, the old women grumbling and muttering as she swabbed the congealed dust and sweat away from the boy’s shoulders and rump.

She placed one hand on the back of Ayas’ head forcing him to bend forward. Ayas tensed in anticipation of what was to come next.

"How am I to clean in there with your bottom clamped tight," she demanded delivering a hard open handed smack across Ayas’ bum. "Get your legs apart filth."

Obediently Ayas shuffled his feet apart and gasped as he felt the damp rag being worked vigorously along his crack and into his hole.

"Don’t make such a fuss boy," the hag snapped. "You wait till the Master fucks you boy. You’ll have something to scream about then."

With that promise she turned her attention to the backs of the boy’s thighs. Water ran in silver streams down Ayas’ firm brown flesh.

"Now," the woman said sponging the last vestiges of dirt from the back of the boy’s heels, "turn round to face me again."

Her fingers fumbled at the tight knots as she untied the cord binding the boy’s wrists together. There were angry red ridges where the rope had galled the boy’s flesh.

After sponging them clean she ordered Ayas to lie face down across her knees. She guided him down and slipping one hand between his legs forced his hips upwards lifting and opening his bottom. Lying there, with the bustle of the yard all about him Ayas felt utterly exposed and helpless.

He squealed and tensed as a finger probed his hole. Then knowing there was no escape and remembering what Ocytus had told him to do the first time he penetrated him, he pushed outwards, relaxing his sphincter. There was, as always, a moment of intense pain as the passage was forced open.

"Someone’s been in here before," the woman said ,working her finger tip deeper into the boy.

"My Mam Mother. Lord Xionedes said he wanted me and told her to prepare me for his use." Ayas knew instinctively that it was best not to let on that his bottom had already been enjoyed both by Ocytus and Callias.

He gave a small moan for the woman’s questing fingertip had touched a peculiarly sensitive point. Clamping his bottom tight around it he strained trying to draw it deeper into himself.

"Well you’re eager for it," the woman remarked, "though whether you’ll be so keen when the Master is ramming his cock into you is another matter. I expect you’ll be squealing like a stuck pig then…."

Slowly the woman drew her finger back until, with a soft plop, it came clear of Ayas’ bottom.

Then Ayas jerked backwards and screamed as she jabbed hard into his bottom again.

"That’s good, you can’t take two fingers, yet at least. That means you haven‘t had a man up you" the woman remarked. "Just loose enough give to let the Master get a lodgement in there but tight enough so you’ll feel it. He likes to rip his sluts open the first time."

"Now get off me," she ordered slapping Ayas hard on his bare rump, "your ready to be taken to the Master now."

Taking Ayas by one arm he led him back into the house and into the hall where he had slept the previous night. Then in the semi-darkness he had just go the impression of a large room with many people crowded in it. Now seeing it in the light he thought that with its beaten earth floor, rough stone walls it was not all that different from the hovel in which he and his family had lived except of course that it was much bigger. He wondered why a great Lord like Xionedes did not have a grander place to live in.

Silently the old hag led him forward across the hall. People, domestic slaves by the look of them, turned to look curiously at them.

Ayas heard a girl only a few years older than himself remark as they passed "another one for the Lord to play with poor little brute" before being quickly hushed.

They came to a small door and the women pushed it open. Immediately they were in another world. A world of light, of white marble floors, plastered walls with brilliantly coloured murals, of colonnaded walks and open courtyards with fountains and strutting peacocks.

Ayas checked he had seen nothing like it ever before in his life. The colour and light was overwhelming. Painted Gods and Godesses rioted about him taking their pleasure with beautiful maidens and equally beautiful boys. Marble statues, some painted, others plain white, all so exquisitely formed that you could almost see them breath and move, stood about. Hidden behind the coarse and unlovely exterior of a Spartan manor house lurked a villa of almost un-parelleled luxury.

Above the sound of water splashing in the fountains came the sweet clear sound of a young boy’s voice raised in song accompanied by the delicate tones of a lyre.

The woman jerked impatiently at Ayas’ arm dragging him towards the sound of the boy’s voice. Suddenly in front of them half lying on a couch was Xionedes, a hand resting on the bare thigh of the naked boy who was singing while accompanying himself on a lyre. The boy was beautiful with a slim finely toned body and long black lustrous hair. He had an air of elegance and confidence that, together with his long hair, declared him to be a Spartan boy of the highest class. A little way off stood another boy, also naked and beautiful but the thin silver collar round his neck and the way he stood, with his head bowed and his eyes fixed respectfully on the floor, marked him out as a slave.

Xionedes whose gaze had been fixed on his companion turned his head and glanced towards where Ayas and the woman stood. For a moment the man‘s gaze rested on Ayas and the boy shivered in fear.

The woman jerked urgently on his arm and he dropped to his knees on the floor beside her.

"Right down," she whispered urgently pressing her head to the floor.

As Ayas followed suite the boy’s voice rose above them clear, sweet and utterly heartless. The song spoke of the love of a boy for his handsome friend the bravest strongest warrior in the whole army, of his fears for his safety and the joy he would feel when he returns home triumphant.

"Well done," said Xionedes as the boy fell silent, "a fine song for a Spartan boy Gianes my love."

"Thank you Xionedes," the boy replied leaning his head against the man’s bare chest "I am glad you like my singing for I sing to please you."

"And you do please me Gianes. You please me very much," Xionedes said bending his head and brushing the boy’s forehead with his lips.

Lifting his face to return the kiss the boy’s eyes fell on Ayas crouched on the floor head pressed to the ground his bare rump cocked up in the air.

"Why’s that piece of Helot filth been brought here," Gianes demanded sitting suddenly upright.

"Oh," Xionedes replied with a slightly unconvincing casualness, "that’s Tithones replacement."

The slave boy who up to then had been standing quietly in the background started convulsively and tears began to stream down his face.

"I don’t see why you need Tithones and I don’t see why you need to replace him," Gianes said petulantly. "You have me. Aren’t I good enough."

"You are too good my darling boy. You must not allow yourself to be jealous of filth like these sluts. You I love…. Brutes like these I use. I can do things to them and have them do things for me that I could not ask you to do and that I would not want you to do and that you most certainly would never agree to do. You are utterly different from them. You are a free Spartan boy. There is nothing prouder, nobler or braver in the world. They are mere slaves bred to serve their betters - just another form of livestock. They don’t feel, they don’t think like us. They are without pride or modesty. They are animals."

"Look I will show you what I mean… Tithones here."

Xionedes raised his hand and beckoned the slave boy to him.

Tithones came quickly forward and dropping to his knees prostrated himself at the feet of the two Spartans where they lounged on the couch.

"Up" Xionedes ordered and the boy got quickly to his feet standing head bowed, his hands down by his side, making no effort to hide his nakedness, in front of his master.

"Have you ever seen anything more despicable?" Xionedes asked Gianes, "the little whore is without either modesty or pride. This is all the slut cares about. Look"

Reaching out Xionedes touched the boy’s testicles which were pushed enticingly out from his body by a silver ring about their roots. The boy’s tiny prick jumped to attention. Panting slightly the boy pushed his hips forward trying to ride the palm of the man’s hand.

"Why’s he crying?" Gianes asked.

"Who knows or cares. Probably at the thought of loosing his balls. It’s a funny thing but I’ll get four or five times more for him without them than if I sold him entire. There’s always a demand for pretty gelded boys."

"Mind you," Xionedes continued settling back and withdrawing his hand from Tithones’ balls, "the thing is not without its risks. A brat dies on you every now and again but I’m getting better at it now. Out of the last three I cut two survived. And with the premium such stock commands in the market that survival rate ensures me a tidy profit."

"But you can see what I mean Gianes can’t you? I can’t love something like this. There’s nothing to love just a pretty face and a nice bottom for fucking but nothing more."

"Mind you I should get a good price for him, provided he doesn’t go and die on us, good looking brat , healthy, look at the blush on his skin and he’s an expert little slut. It’s a funny thing once I’ve got a boy really well schooled I loose interest in him. I enjoy breaking and training fresh stock and I’m good at it as well."

"Gods how the brat is howling. I can hardly hear myself speak."

And indeed Tithones, who had been struggling to hold back the tears from the moment that Xionedes had announced the arrival of his replacement, had now completely lost control of himself and was openly sobbing.

"Tithones," Gianes jeered fighting back his laughter and reaching out and pinching the sobbing brat‘s testicles, "what’s the matter? You’re not frightened of having your balls cut off. Why they’re very small little things. I doubt if you’ll hardly notice they’ve gone."

With a wail Tithones threw himself to the floor at Xionedes feet.

"Master, please Master," he moaned pressing his lips to the man’s feet, "please spare me Master, please. Please let me keep my balls and Master if I can’t keep my balls please anyway let me stay with you Master and serve You Master Please don’t send me away. I‘ll try really hard to please you Master….."

The boy’s pleas were brought to an abrupt halt by a vicouse kick full in his face from Xionedes.

"Shut up you stupid turd," the Spartan shouted, That’s quite enough of that. My minds made up. I’ve no further use for you. Now get back to your place."

"And now Phaedra, you ghastly old hag, bring Ayas forward and let me have a look at him.

As Tithenes slunk back dabbing at his bleeding nose with the back of his hand, the old woman pulled Ayas to his feet .

"Do you know Xionedes," Gianes remarked laughing as Ayas was led reluctantly forward, "I think that slut Tithones must love you he wants to stay with you so much."

"No doubt the brat does after his fashion. Who else is there for a slave boy to love but his master."