Memoirs 3

 

This third part of the disputed writings contains, as do all the recovered parts, many references to the sexual use made of boys, a use, that should we take these words at their face value, appear to be the norm in the writer's city.
Again, I must caution potential readers that they are not now the norm, and that every effort should be made to prevent them from falling into the hands of boys.

 

 

At twenty-four, my natural inclination was to spend my money on a boy slave and to indulge myself in the luxury of pleasure, for though it would be far from the truth to say my life had been deprived of pleasure, I was finding an increasing longing in me to own a boy slave who I could use for pleasure as much as I had wish for.

I understood that this was no more than the natural consequence of growing from youth to man and my desires were no different from the desires of all men, but you must remember that I had learned to use my mind, and the fee I had received would not purchase me a house, a boy slave to enjoy in it, and maintain me until I discovered some way to earn.

I calculated the sum I would need to buy food for a year and sought for a property I could purchase with the rest; somewhere that did not share a wall with another property and built of good stone. It remained my intention to obtain a boy slave at the earliest opportunity, and boy slaves can be somewhat noisy when first they are entered at the rear, and it was no more than good manners to have consideration for my neighbours' sleep.

I found a property for less than I had anticipated, though in honesty it was little more than a barn and far from any luxury though it did have the pipes and tap that were now common in the city. Being some distance from the nearest other dwelling and constructed with good, thick stone walls, I thought it ideal for my purpose – no matter how loud my future boy slave yelled when I used him, no neighbours would be disturbed.

The luxury of a boy slave was still a dream for the future and for some months I busied myself with labours to repair my barn of a dwelling, and to seek for some method of earning money.

One task I found particularly displeasing, and that was to draw water from my well to pour into the tank that fed my pipe and tap.

Where dwellings are close together in the city streets a communal well is used and a tower of a tank built to hold the water. Slaves heave the water from the well in buckets, and full buckets passed to other slaves who mount the steps to the tower and pour in the water, retuning the buckets to be filled again.

Numerous slaves labour at this task by day and night, but my dwelling was not in a city street and I owned no slaves to draw my water for me.

Surely, I thought some engine may be contrived to do this labour for me?

Engines of various sorts the city had, like those designed to grind corn to flour, but all were powered by slaves, for if they were not worked by slaves, how else could they be made to move? I needed to design a mechanical slave, that much at least was clear.

Sympo finds the idea of a mechanical slave most amusing and permits himself to wonder aloud how I would have made the mouth. I fix him with a glare and he flicks his tongue around his lips. Perhaps I should try beating Sympo, but I have no wish to spoil his childish delights, and I do not think that thrashing him would lead to any improvements in his behaviour.

Some boy slaves, I know, respond well to a beating and their performance is enhanced by such, but Sympo does not have need of his performances being improved, he undertakes his duties always with great enthusiasm.

"Your mouth is already a machine," I tell him and Mato sniggers behind me and tells me that he has kept Sympo at a distance since rising as he knows I will wish to taste him before he prepares the midday meal.

I pondered much on how a device could be constructed that would imitate the labours of the water slaves, and would have concluded that, as with other labours, there could be no substitute for slaves; they were the machinery by which the city worked.

This, I say I would have concluded were it not for a chance event. The city as most cities are, was in location beside a river up which boats were rowed for the purpose of trade, and one boat appeared of a most strange design.

It was rowed up the river by men heaving on oars as all boats are, though as I later discovered, the rowers were not slaves, and though that of itself was a strangeness enough, the thing that caused me to wonder was that the boat had a tree growing from its centre.

The tree had no branches or leaves so had clearly been worked, but it was thick and tall and could be nothing other than a tree.

The men of the ship were tall and fair of hair and had more the appearance of fighting men than men who rowed a boat, but I felt nothing but delight when I heard them speak for they spoke a language that I knew, a language I had learned many years before when a fair-haired boy slave had taught it to me in exchange for the unlimited use of my mouth.

From them I learned of a thing called a sail, a great length of cloth that they hung from a branch they hoisted up the tree, which they named a mast and the branch a spar, where it caught the wind and it was that and not men pulling oars that drove them across the sea.

Much of this I learned, and I include this as I know it will please Sympo, not from the bearded men who looked like warriors, which indeed I found they were, but from a delightful youth of fourteen years, who said he was the master's shipwife, and grinned much as Sypmo is grinning now, when he told me he was entered often in both those places a man can enter a boy.

I was surprised to learn that he was not a slave, but the son of the headman of his village, and was the master's shipwife only for the sailing season, his position as shipwife being the payment made to the master for teaching him how to sail a ship. Being as he was a temporary wife only he saw no reason why he should not share his favours with a stranger, even to allowing me to enter him from the rear, a thing I was by then in great need of, for he was indeed, my memory recalls, a most pretty boy.

The ship master, I thought, had a bargain in that deal as, so pretty and unusual with his fair hair, the youth would have sold for a considerable sum in the city market despite his advanced years, and the shipman had use of him for free, and how difficult can it be to teach one how to point a boat in the direction you wished to go?

It was from that encounter that I devised the wind water lifter that is now in common use outside the crowded city where slaves are still found to be the most efficient method of feeding all the taps that people have. I made a little model of cloth and strips of wood which seemed to work, and engaged a carpenter willing to make a full sized one, which took much of my remaining money, but he added improvements, using ropes and pulleys to raise the water from the well to the tank, and all done by the wind turning the wheel of sails I had invented.

So impressed was the carpenter that he built one for himself, so freeing a slave for other duties, and he entered into a business with me, building others for houses away from the city, and giving me one coin in ten from the profits that he made.

My store of money improved bit by bit and I thought that within a year I may have enough to purchase a cheap boy slave, for I must admit that as I was now nearing twenty-six, my need for one was becoming demanding.

I obtained one sooner than expected, and Fate may once more have played a part in that.

News reached the city that a large consignment of slaves were on the way, the treaty I had concluded working well, slaves being sent to us twice each year with no effort on the part of the city.

The autumn delivery was always larger than the spring one and this autumn there had been a bumper harvest and the estimated yield was over seven hundred slaves. Such a number was bound to include many boys and I went to do some window shopping, knowing I still did not have enough money to actually buy.

Boys, you must understand however strange it may seem to you, are in great demand, and are by far the most expensive items in the market, and even previously owned ones do not come at bargain prices. Indeed, a well-trained one with good provenance just turning from boy to youth, can sell for more than an unused one to connoisseurs.

It is a city law that slaves are sold `as seen', wearing whatever rags they wore when harvested and generally speaking I believe this to be a sensible law. One of the really good things about slavery is that a use can be found for every sort of slave, male or female, very young or very old, and it is good that those extremes are covered when put up for sale. And were boys to be sold uncovered there could well be squabbles and fights develop amongst the buyers should a particularly attractive specimen be available, desired by several would-be owners.

There is therefore, an element of both risk and luck involved in the purchase of a boy, though that appears to add to the overall enjoyment of a market day.

Previously owned items are sold on a different day, and with those the salesman is quite willing for all assets to be exhibited and provenance inspected.

But I digress, I am talking of a particular market day and my acquisition of my first boy slave; a thing which Sympo is most eager to learn of.

I was as I say, window shopping, observing the boy slaves and the prices that they fetched for future reference – how much more would I need to save before I could bid for one.

Some hundred or so boys were sold that day, from the very young to those almost beyond being youths, and the cheapest for prices I would need to save another year for, but as more and more were sold and the unsold number dwindled, one item caught my attention.

No-one amongst the bidding buyers had called for him to be brought forward and placed upon the auction block, and it was easy to see why. It had been an exceptionally good harvest and the crop in fine condition, but in every field of good wheat there is always a weed to be found and this item was the weed.

By his size I guessed him to be about some ten years, always an age that does not fetch the highest prices, falling as it does between young boy and young youth, but marketable nonetheless and always for a decent sum. This one though had little to attract any bidder save that he was a boy.

To describe him as scrawny would be to err on generosity, there was not sufficient flesh on him to feed a bloated vulture, and when he stood, as now he was standing, the bone of one knee knocked against the other, and those ribs that were visible beneath the torn rags that partly covered him could be used as an aid to teach boys how to count.

And all that was the best part of him!

His nose was too small, his mouth too wide, his eyes sunken, his cheeks hollow and his ears stuck out like those of a bat; the very most he could hope for was that one of the city baths would take him and use him for washing the poorest of the poor.

But he was a boy and I was almost twenty-six and in great need of a boy.

I debated with myself, seeking for a reason to make some small bid for him. Perhaps his too large mouth might be an asset, perhaps, as he seemed to be ten, I would be able to enter him from the rear if he did not snap in half when I mounted him, because, when all was said and done, he was a boy. I was nearly twenty-six, a free man and yet to enter a boy of my own. I had great need of a boy.

I waited till he alone remained unsold and made offer of a pitifully small sum, but if he did not accept that, the trader, by law must give him for free to a city bath.

A small sum is better than no sum at all, and with a sneer the trader accepted my coin and I owned a boy no-one else would wish to own.

It was fortunate that my dwelling had thick stone walls and was some little distance from another, as my new boy slave did not remain quiet when he was entered, yelling and howling as I forced my way inside him.

I must confess that I did none of those things that ready a boy slave's rear for entry but used only my swollen cock in the most basic of ways, though I found the need to cover that part most heavily in mutton fat, so tightly was the hole that it should enter clamped shut.

So it was that I discovered the wonders of a boy slave's hole. It seemed hotter inside than does a mouth and grips more fiercely than a mouth can do, the very tightness of the grip urging a man to use his hips and drive himself in as deep as he may, and once in deep, he must withdraw some to drive in again, and all this without the need for thought, so overwhelming is the wonder of being inside a boy.

All this I say for though I had entered that shipwife boy, he was not a slave and could not be used as a slave is used.

Sympo's tongue is poking from his mouth as his finger traces these words, his other hand beneath his kirtle, and Mato also is aroused and wonders in my ear if I may have some wish to not wait until it is nearly time for lunch.

Mato is a most thoughtful boy slave, ever attentive to the needs of his old owner, and he moves beside me so I may make some use of him if I desire and I put down my pen, offer him a finger to wet with his mouth, then reach behind him and gently ease that finger into him, causing him to sigh with pleasure.

I cannot write with my left hand, so I do not finger Mato for long, wishing to return to my tale whilst my mind is still morning fresh and do so before Sympo begins to sulk that it is Mato and not himself who is being pleasured a little.

I know now, being the advanced age that I am and having in my long life owned a considerable number of boy slaves, that a boy slave knows that he does not exist to give pleasure merely because he is a boy slave and must do his duty, but that the giving of pleasure is an integral part of his nature. I am uncertain if it is because that Fate decided he should be a boy slave, or if it is in the nature of all boys to wish to be used for pleasure and that, by being a boy slave a boy has the freedom to give pleasure often and therefore he does so with great enthusiasm, not because he is a slave, but because he is a boy, or if it is because he has become a boy slave that he understands his destiny was always to give delight and by being a slave he can fulfil that destiny, I have been unable to conclude.

Both theories I have entertained, but as Ephebophilos would have said, my empirical observation of boys who were not slaves is not extensive enough to draw a meaningful conclusion.

Some there have of course been, and mostly when I became a tutor, but that is as yet in the future and I digress.

I must return to my first boy slave and Sympo grins at me in that way of his that makes so clear that all things to do with pleasure he likes to hear and talk of.

I felt no shame nor remorse that my first use of my boy slave had been so basic; my need was great and I had bought him to satisfy that need, he being so unprepossessing both of body and face that I anticipated no more sophisticated use of him, believing that a boy so unattractive had any more to offer than a convenient mouth and rear.

Despite his abrupt and doubtless painful introduction to his life as a boy slave, and that pain had been most definitely involved was evidenced not by his howls alone when he was entered and used, but also by the tears that flowed still from his eyes and the snot that hung from his nose long after I had concluded my venture inside him, he displayed no resentment at his use. Indeed his features and his still flooded eyes seemed to me to indicate gratitude rather than resentment, and with my initial need somewhat satisfied and my balls emptier than they had been, my mind was once again able to work and I wondered why this should be.

The sounds that came from his mouth when he used his lips in the manner men do when they speak conveyed no meaning to me and I concluded that his tribe or what had been his tribe for they were all now slaves of one sort or the other and no longer a tribe, was one not familiar to me, and I must learn another language or he learn mine if communication were to be possible.

It soon became most evident that my boy slave possessed a mind in keeping with his body and that he could no more learn a language than he could arouse a man to desire with his body and features, and I must learn the meanings of the sounds he uttered. This I did, and found it no difficult task, for his vocabulary was as limited as his mind so there was little to learn.

Strangely, whilst learning the meanings of his sounds, and enjoying the uses I made of his scrawny body, which as you doubtless understand were many and frequent, I came to realise that the very undesirable nature of his body somehow made it increasingly desirable; that his scrawny bony frame and ugly face made him a delight to use and even view, and so I kept him as Ephebophilos had kept me, ever absent of any covering, which, of course, led to my making even greater use of him.

The more he was used the happier he became, and this is what led to my first pondering on the theory that all boys know by instinct that they are meant to be used for pleasure, and that they are grateful that they have been taken and sold as boy slaves so they may fulfil their destinies.

Boy Slave, I never in all the years I owned him gave him a name, was, I discovered, three ways happy. Happy that he had been bought and was owned to give pleasure; happy that he found fulfilment in giving pleasure, and happy, most of all that I kept him naked, as to him, that displayed both my desire to use him and that he was sufficiently desirable to be actually used.

He had been, he told me, feeding pigs when he was harvested, a rank weed amongst the ripe crop of his tribe, a filthy scrawny undernourished wretch fit only to tend to pigs, feed them and be fed to them when he departed from life, and in the market he had come to know his true worth was no more than that. No-one wished to buy him even to feed their pigs, yet I had paid coin for him and used him as he had never thought to be used, and though he had screamed loud with pain when he was first entered, that moment was the happiest moment of his life.

He had no expectation that I would wish to use him in that way again and when I did and did most often, each night he went to sleep dreaming of the morrow when he would be used again. Life had become worth living, not a thing to be endured until he died and was fed to pigs.

That I kept him now ever uncovered filled him with pride; even now when he no longer wanted for food, his body was all skin and bones yet he understood it raised desire in me, and the more I desired and used him the more content he became.

I had some wonder as to his true age, for that which makes all boys boys was of a size greater than that of Sympo now, and he a year older than I took Boy Slave to be, yet no other signs on his body were there to suggest he was of the age when boys begin the change to youths.

I do not mean to suggest that he was of an exceptional size, only that I was surprised to find he possessed sufficient to give pleasure to my hands and mouth, and that pleasure I took most often, as a boy who is still a boy and not begun to turn to youth is not limited in the amount of pleasure his front may be used for.

I used that part for another purpose also, for I would not be truthful if I did not confess that my thoughts returned often to my earlier days when I was scapegoat for Helios and that young youth used me for his pleasure.

It may be that he was only just a youth and was the first to enter me, but many times since had I been entered by a man full grown and know well the wonder and delight a man may fill a boy with, but I craved then, and still crave so now – though being old my needs are less urgent now – to be entered and ridden by a boy.

Ephebophilos always said that the greatest delight is the front of a young youth and I do not dispute with him, but say only that he placed too great a confinement on himself and that the front of a boy not yet a youth has a delight also, some for the hand, a little more for the mouth, but most of all when used to make entry from the rear.

So it was that I had Boy Slave mount and ride me, and that he did with great enthusiasm and being the age he was I could oblige him to ride me until he was exhausted with the effort and so could ride no more, yet still would he be firm and hard inside me.

Sympo giggles, for he well knows what I mean. He is eleven and has been inside me for a year now when the need is on me, for though I am old and my cock no longer obeys my bidding, still may I be mounted and provide some pleasure to the boy or youth who rides me.

"Later, Sympo," I assure him, "And Mato directly after. I find I have a need to be filled as well as ridden."

Mato grins, knowing that I show pleasure in his size and what youth is there who dislikes praise of his member? Though in truth, Mato has a member worthy of praise.

With much of my money now spent, I had need of employ, yet the only skill I possessed was my mind and I far too young to pass myself off as a philosopher, so I was obliged to take position as a tutor, a position with no social status and very little income, acceptable to me only because it involved proximity to boys.

Even though those boys would be the sons of men of worth and thus be beyond reach, still I imagined my mind able to believe it was a pretty pupil and not Boy Slave I entered at nights, boys being the almost constant subject of my casual thoughts.

My very first employment exceeded by far any expectation I had; a member of the Magistrates' Council required a tutor who could instruct his son in matters of military history, and as widow of the heroic Herdicus, I was deemed suited to the task.

The boy was twelve, nearing thirteen, on the very edge of moving from boy to youth, and most pleasing to the eye.

I enquired as to the age and nature of his scapegoat and was told that there was none.

"The boy will send men enough to die in his stead when he is an officer," his father declared, "I would have him learn now that he cannot escape punishment for his follies. If he errs, beat him, and do so soundly in some hope he will remember it."

Beatings, of course, are an essential part of education, but it was most unusual for the pupil not to be provided with a slave to take those beatings when one could clearly be afforded.

I equipped myself  with a strap fashioned from firm but supple leather, the length of my forearm and the width of three fingers, to use instead of the traditional cane of birch; it would administer no less pain but do so with no danger of breaking skin. It mattered nothing if a few more scars were added to a slave, but the only scars a boy or youth of birth should have were those resulting from conflict and not from punishment.

I expected that the boy, knowing he would be beaten for his mistakes, would make none or few, but it became clear on the very first day that his future as an officer in the Army was well assured as he displayed no indications of intelligence, and within a single hour he earned a beating.

When I displayed to him what it was that he would be beaten with, his eyes widened some, but not in fear or trepidation at the pain to come, and I took the glint that came to his eyes to be a determination to endure pain bravely.

He hesitated some over how he should present himself for beating, his fingers hovering over the fastening of his kirtle as though debating with himself if it was proper to remove it or no, but decided instead to lift the back and tuck it in the waist before bending across a table and presenting to me his uncovered rear.

I confess most freely that I had wish to do other than beat the sight before me, to treat it as Ephebophlos would and use my mouth and tongue, but he was my pupil and I his tutor and obliged to give him pain instead of pleasure.

He gasped and whimpered as the leather struck, and in honesty I was much taken with the sound it made; the little whistling of air as I swished it and the delightful 'crack' as it landed on bare flesh I found to be most pleasing.

It turned what had been creamy white into deepening crimson, and his punishment concluded the boy stood and turned to face me while he restored his kirtle to its proper way of wearing. I could not fail to notice as he did so that there was a protuberance at the front as though he was aroused.

So long I looked in that direction that the boy could not fail to notice, and, indeed, I needed some effort of will to avoid giving him also something to notice.

"Next time you beat me," he calmly announced, "I will be obliged to scream. My father will expect to hear that you punish me properly."

The next time was the following day when the boy displayed such stupidity that I was in despair of ever being able to teach him anything, and this time he did not tuck up his kirtle, but removed it entire and presented me with a view of his front that was more than a passing glimpse.

I know that memory is both selective and fallible and that what I write here may lack some in accuracy, but I write things as I remember them. Those memories are but moments in time, the bits that remain clear after more than fifty years as if they were yesterday. I do not remember any details of the boy's face other that it had a fairness about it and of his form only that it was one would expect of a boy of almost thirteen.

His words though, the ones I write of him saying, I swear are as they were said, though of any of his other discourse I have no remembrance. The whistle and crack of my strap when I beat him I can hear now clearly in my mind, and the urgent longing I felt when he presented his front for me to view is with me still.

When he turned and placed himself across the table to be beaten, I told him I could not beat him there again; what had been creamy white and turned to red was now deep purple, and beaten there again he must need eat his food standing for a week to come, and he said that were he a slave I would care nothing for that but beat him soundly, and, consumed by desire as I was I forgot my place as tutor and said plainly that were he my slave I would beat him there not, for I would have a different desire for that part of him and further beating would make that not possible.

"Then must you find a different place to beat me," he said, "Do as you would were I your slave."

I struck him then on the back of his leg, on that part where thigh swells into buttock and he screamed most loudly, though if that was from the pain or for his father's ears I cannot tell and never did he reveal it to me, and when his thrashing was complete, he rose and turned to face me and what had been soft before was now most hard.

"Your slave, remember," were the words he spoke and I took him first in my hand and then my mouth and kept him there till he showed me that he had indeed taken his first steps into being a youth and fed me the little sweetness he was able to produce.

 

The reader may again believe that he has discovered evidence of fraud and hoax. The city, or what remains of it, was hidden beneath desert sands, yet the writer talks of it as being beside a river. Some explanation of this I think maybe made by recent discoveries made from space that there were once long ago rivers in what is now the Sahara desert and that what is now sand was once fertile and green.
The sceptic will also point to the craft and its crew the writer talks of pointing out that the description he gives seems to be one of a Viking ship and crew, and, indeed, it is well known that boys were from time to time taken as shipwives on Viking expeditions. Yet Vikings did  not come into the world till many centuries after the Carbon 14 dating  of these writings.
The casual use of beatings for educational purposes are no longer permitted of course, but we must not ignore the fact that such a ban is very recent indeed, and the reader is urged not to view the past as though it were the present.

 

isukwell@hotmail.co.uk