Publius Octavius Ch 03

There were six other young men. I knew them all. They had been mates at the Gymnasium and two were with me each week in the military exercises. We were lined up, completely naked before seven makeshift wooden table altars under the watchful gazes of the seven senior priests—and of course the giant image of Bacchus. The High Priest, one of the seven, offered a lofty, but short invocation. He and his assistants were wearing long red robes, completely open to the front, exposing their fat bellies and erect penishes. Then attendants presented each of us with a cup, filled with a dark red liquid. We drank while a sturdy naked attendant stood behind each of us and took the empty cup. Within minutes, we felt weak and dreamy, but our shafts engorged to amazing size. At first, I thought I would burst. We were grasped by the attendant and led to the altars. We faced the altars. Then seven women, presumably priestesses of the Temple, were brought forward and reclined on the table, spreading their legs in welcome. We were each positioned prostrate on top or one—in a sacrificial position.

[The next portion of this story was related to me by Joshua as I was apparently in a drugged trance for much of it. Thus, it is in Joshua's words.]

The old man fat man, whom I presumed to be the high priest approached and encircled Tavi's shaft and scrotum with cords that were then tightened. Other cords dyed deep red were drawn up from the base of the altar. Tavi's wrists were stretched up and out and secured to the edges farthest from the onlookers. Then he was pulled downward and bent over the woman. His legs and ankles were left free, but the outstretched arms left him without purchase on the floor, so the weight of his body was upon her. He was pinning her completely, but appeared entirely vulnerable and sacrificial. I looked over at Pater in horror—this looked like a sacrifice that I had witnessed in the wilds! He calmed me. "He will be safe. He will survive. And he will remember little. All is as it should be."

The room was filled with heavy sleep-inducing incense, and clouds of it wafted over the onlookers. Through the haze, we watched as an attendant proceeded to stimulate Tavi's phallus to rigidity—as though the drug and the cords had not already done so--and then placed it inside the woman. The senior priests approached—the High Priest had selected Tavi.

The priests dropped their loose robes and plunged their oiled phalluses into the young men. They began to stroke, while standing and using their thighs to move the young men who were thus forced into stroking the women beneath them. The drug had done its work. This continued for several minutes, very long minutes. The priests were obviously enjoying this part of the ritual. Finally, the senior priests withdrew and spilled their cum into a silver cup. Then Tavi was pulled from the woman, the cords were removed, and he was stroked to orgasm. His cum was commingled with the priest's. Wine was added to the brim. Each assigned priest tasted the liquid, then offered a deep drink to the young men. Then the cups were placed ceremoniously on the base of the statue of Bacchus.

The women left—we would see them again in the celebration hall. But, the young men were returned to and retied to the tables, bent and draped over the altar tables, their asses offered for use. Over the next hour, dozens of other priests entered and took the young men in turn until the young men were dripping with creamy cum. All of us in the gallery as witnesses of this orgy were painfully erect, but no one moved. We were observers, not participants.

Suddenly, the incense disappeared, and we noted that the young men were beginning to wake from their drug-induced delirium. They were soon released and handed their silver cups. All drank. And finally, the High Priest concluded the first part of the ceremony with a benediction, welcoming the young men into the brotherhood of the Cult, reminding them that for the rest of the night, they would continue to couple—taking and being taken with men and women—and that those who participated in the bacchanal would be particularly blessed with the potency of Bacchus for the rest of their lives.

[We return to Tavi's narration.]

I was quite sated—and sore, but I knew what was now expected. We would all move to the celebration hall for refreshments and "recreation". Pater and I, as free men, and now Cult members, remained nude, but short red tunics with white sashes were provided to our slaves, setting them as "off-limits". They would not be permitted to participate in the recreation. They were observers and guardians only.

We engaged in the revelry until dawn—dozing a bit now and then. Joshua always remained at my side as I entered the anuses and mouths of men, planted seed in the young women, and even when I was occasionally taken by an older man. Joshua's fierce stares prevented any of the other young male initiates from taking me—or being taken by me. Ceremony and initiation were okay—but copulation with peers was apparently off limits—at least as far as he was concerned. Frankly, I hadn't even noticed this until Pater noted it a few days later. But Joshua had been jealous as well as protective. I was becoming his as much as he was mine.

Pater also seemed to be enjoying the evening, although his age meant that he would choose his partners less frequently and drink far less wine, but his endurance gave me hope for my own future.

In the morning we stumbled back to the house. I could barely walk. So Joshua supported me, and even carried me for part of the walk. I went immediately to my apartment. Joshua sponged me and left me to sleep. He went to his pallet. I'm pretty sure he relieved the incredible tension in his erect penis before he too slept—even without my permission. A full night of watching others had earned him this small violation of my orders. He knew I would not need him further. His master was now a full member of the Cult. My night of recreation had seen me taken and taking dozens of times. I guess maybe he was wondering what that would mean for him. But, I'm sure he marveled at my ability to couple so often.

********

The next several weeks were routine—military exercises, meetings with Pater, baths—and of course, our now familiar pattern: Joshua took me by mouth in the morning unless I slipped my cock into his welcoming ass as I woke; I took him at night, often roughly, always deep and always edging him to the end of his endurance. Most nights he would then spoon into me, and occasionally, I would wake him during the night for a reprise.

I'm pretty sure he was now addicted to my phallus. What had started as routine duty had become genuine affection—for both of us. And genuine need. He knew his place without direction from me, and he was ingratiating himself with the household servants. I was beginning to relax—my training of Joshua had been apparently successful. I now had a friend as well as a slave. And someone with whom I could relieve my sexual tension at will.

It was damn good to be a Roman patrician in our Golden Age. And in the home of Bacchus.

TBC BD