Patrikios 

Whenever I am bored or at a loose end, I, Marcus Flavius, senator of Rome, like to visit the smaller, lesser known of Rome's slave-markets. Mostly, their livestock is ordinary run-of-the-mill animals best suited to working the fields of a latifundium, the mines or quarries.

However, occasionally, just occasionally, one does come across a rarity you'd expect to find in the "arcana tabulata catastae", that special market closed to the plebeians where the most beautiful and handsome slaves are sold to the discerning, patrician nobility.

Today, I visited the small slave-market of Volpiscus who, even among his fellow pedlars of human flesh, is considered to be shady and disreputable. But then, all slave-dealers are beneath contempt and are rightly regarded as "infamii". Nevertheless, these vultures do serve a useful purpose and keep Rome well supplied with slaves to serve us.

I was disappointed with the offerings in Volpiscus' slave-pens and was about to leave his premises when I saw this most handsome, young, male slave whose complexion suggested he came from the East. I was enraptured by his slave-nakedness, his boyish good looks, his nervous shyness and his air of vulnerability. Such masculine beauty required my closer scrutiny and I had Volpiscus  remove the slave from his pen and spread-eagled within an inspection frame for my closer, hands-on inspection. And I wasn't disappointed.

The slave's warm, hard flesh yielded softly to my touch, his breath was as intoxicating as the sweetest Pompeiian honeyed wine and his exposed underarms exuded his masculine scent in a way that aroused me to a powerful erection.

I playfully ruffled the hair on his sweating, heaving chest and despite the fact that the current trend is to have a male slave's body glabrous and hair free, I prefer my male slaves to be hirsute as a sign of their masculinity. Playfully, I teased his ruby red nipples to needlepoint sharpness and hey reminded me of luscious, wild summer berries growing in a grassy meadow and oh, how I longed to taste their flavour. .

I slowly traced a finger down over the delightful treasure-trail bisecting his well-defined abdominal muscles pausing to probe the deep indent of his navel and to savour the butterfly fluttering of his belly's muscles as I did so. Then, I continued downwards and tested his prodigious endowment for its vigour and strength. I have to say the slave's penis responded enthusiastically to my touch and left nothing to be desired..

I walked behind the slave and ran my hands over the broad shoulders and muscular back to the delightfully, rounded orbs of his pert ass which only whetted my salacious need for him even more. Ye gods, how I lusted after the slave's beautiful ass. Naturally, I tested him for his virginity and tightness and as my finger explored ever deeper within him, the slave's audible gasp of surprise, the shivering tremor that rippled through his nude body and the widening of his eyes told me he had guessed to what purposes his young body would be put should he become my slave.

From that moment, there was no further doubt in my mind  The slave was destined to be my property and I will return to bid for him at auction irrespective of the cost to my purse.

Volpiscus told me the slave is from Persia and he is the 20 year old, junior son of a Persian nobleman. He was captured in battle and taken to the island of Delos where, once, upwards of 10,000 Greek slaves were sold in one sale. From there he was sold to a wholesale importer of slaves for the Roman markets. How a slave of such rare beauty finds himself in Volpiscus' tawdry establishment is a mystery.

Already, I have chosen a name for my new slave after I have purchased him. I will replace his unpronounceable, Persian name with the more civilised Greek name "Patrikios" meaning noble.

The name amuses me! As Patrikios lies on my pleasure-couch, surrendering his slave's body to my carnal needs, he will no doubt reflect on the irony of his new slave name. It will remind him that once he was noble-born but is now just a slave - and my slave.

Picture sourced from the internet: text is mine.