the heatwave baked Rome. Gaianus was relieved from duty, and like the rest of his comrades in the Praetorian Guard, stripped off and descended into the catacombs beneath the imperial palace
he half-dozed on his feet. A muffled silence reigned in the caverns. The random chinking of armour. A grunt or a moan. The whimpering of a slave girl. Sounds of male orgasm. Or orgasm denied. Suddenly he was aware of a powerfully-built figure in the deeper gloom to his right. A naked man, shorter than he but broader, wearing an intricately worked helmet with a thick black plume. None of the men or their officers could hope to possess such a valuable item. Gaianus realised he was in the presence of the emperor, Philip the Arab. Both men knew each other, but only out on campaign or in the marble palace above
Gaianus dropped to one knee and whispered `Hail, God Emperor`. The helmeted ruler replied `And tonight, Gaianus, Your Master`. `Sir` responded Gaianus, automatically, but unsure of himself. He knew this low-born military commander had a reputation for using sex as a tool of punishment. But Gaianus’ wife had been away at her parents’ farm for more than two months. He was badly in need of relief. And anyway, the emperor’s word was his command. Philip the Arab said `Rise`. The two men looked at each other in the fetid gloom. Somewhere in the darkness a guy was taking the whip. Gaianus’ cock started to rise. `My abject apologies sir` said Gaianus, but unable to control himself. `Your cock’s salute is all I need Gaianus` said the emperor huskily. He made a slight motion with his head to the darker vaults below. The naked emperor in the plumed helmet disappeared, and Gaianus followed him. His cock was still hard. He started to ooze pre-cum, and it burned
at daybreak his big punished body was dumped on his straw pallet in the guardroom dormitory. Sprawled face down, he wheezed from his deep, hairy, jism-caked chest. The other men looked at him casually as they went about their business, but said nothing. There were plenty of spies around. His young cadet Lucius found him as he reported for duty an hour later. He lifted his head and gave him water. Gaianus drank, and mumbled a thankyou. The lad kissed his head, and stood up. Gaianus fell asleep again. Between shifts the dorm fell quiet. Lucius surveyed the damage. He looked at his mentor’s whipped back, buttocks and thighs. And his bleeding arse, still dribbling the raw cumjuice of an Arab emperor and his swarthy lieutenants. Lucius was a fighter and in love with savagery. He couldn't help himself. He jacked off over his mentor’s prone body. In his semi-conscious state Gaianus felt a cumshot splattering his arse. It ran down his inner thigh onto his blue and mauve bruised bollocks, three times their normal size. He smiled, and was proud of his boy
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the heatwave baked Rome. Gaianus was relieved from duty, and like the rest of his comrades in the Praetorian Guard, stripped off and descended into the catacombs beneath the imperial palace
he half-dozed on his feet. A muffled silence reigned in the caverns. The random chinking of armour. A grunt or a moan. The whimpering of a slave girl. Sounds of male orgasm. Or orgasm denied. Suddenly he was aware of a powerfully-built figure in the deeper gloom to his right. A naked man, shorter than he but broader, wearing an intricately worked helmet with a thick black plume. None of the men or their officers could hope to possess such a valuable item. Gaianus realised he was in the presence of the emperor, Philip the Arab. Both men knew each other, but only out on campaign or in the marble palace above
Gaianus dropped to one knee and whispered `Hail, God Emperor`. The helmeted ruler replied `And tonight, Gaianus, Your Master`. `Sir` responded Gaianus, automatically, but unsure of himself. He knew this low-born military commander had a reputation for using sex as a tool of punishment. But Gaianus’ wife had been away at her parents’ farm for more than two months. He was badly in need of relief. And anyway, the emperor’s word was his command. Philip the Arab said `Rise`. The two men looked at each other in the fetid gloom. Somewhere in the darkness a guy was taking the whip. Gaianus’ cock started to rise. `My abject apologies sir` said Gaianus, but unable to control himself. `Your cock’s salute is all I need Gaianus` said the emperor huskily. He made a slight motion with his head to the darker vaults below. The naked emperor in the plumed helmet disappeared, and Gaianus followed him. His cock was still hard. He started to ooze pre-cum, and it burned
at daybreak his big punished body was dumped on his straw pallet in the guardroom dormitory. Sprawled face down, he wheezed from his deep, hairy, jism-caked chest. The other men looked at him casually as they went about their business, but said nothing. There were plenty of spies around. His young cadet Lucius found him as he reported for duty an hour later. He lifted his head and gave him water. Gaianus drank, and mumbled a thankyou. The lad kissed his head, and stood up. Gaianus fell asleep again. Between shifts the dorm fell quiet. Lucius surveyed the damage. He looked at his mentor’s whipped back, buttocks and thighs. And his bleeding arse, still dribbling the raw cumjuice of an Arab emperor and his swarthy lieutenants. Lucius was a fighter and in love with savagery. He couldn't help himself. He jacked off over his mentor’s prone body. In his semi-conscious state Gaianus felt a cumshot splattering his arse. It ran down his inner thigh onto his blue and mauve bruised bollocks, three times their normal size. He smiled, and was proud of his boy
Ulf, your latest work is brilliant. And the story above compliments it beautifully.
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