Memoirs 4

 

 

This fourth 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.

 

 

Owning Boy Slave and tutoring Niko began my true transformation to philosopher and the fortunes that I later made.

Fate had conspired to have me sold as a slave at the age of six and to be purchased for the sole purpose of being used for pleasure by my owner, and I was so used for the next eighteen years of my life – the difference between being boy slave and wife being one of name only until my husband got himself heroically slain.

For much of that time my mind raised no questions of my position, understanding early that boys are natural objects of desire for men and that I had no dislike of the uses my owners rightfully made of me.

Ephebophilos had made it clear to my developing mind that boys are made for pleasure, and of that I had then and have still, not the slightest doubt. That true philosopher had sought to discover the nature of that pleasure – not the pleasure of the physical act for that is self-evident, but the very essence of pleasure itself and if that essence is embedded in the nature of boys or becomes part of them by experience.

Naturally, much of the evidence he gathered came from his use of boy slaves, for only by owning a boy can use enough be made of him for evidence obtained to be of any meaning, and now I began to wonder if the learned Ephebophilos had been led astray by his natural delight in the bodies of the young youths he so admired.

Niko had a splendid body and no man could do other that desire him and at market he would have sold for a fortune, but Boy Slave was so unappealing that not a single bid was made for him and I bought him only because my need to have a boy for use was so great I cared for nothing save that he was a boy. Yet Boy Slave provides me with pleasure unlimited and is happier than he had believed it possible to be that he does so.

Ephebophilos would have taken that as clear evidence that the giving of pleasure is a natural part of a boy's nature, and that I will not dispute, but I began to think that this fact is not the complete answer.

Boy Slave has no right to believe that he could give pleasure, and I know from questioning him that he thought he had no pleasure to give; his only use was to feed pigs and his only dream was to have a man look at him as other boys were looked at.

It had taken but one thrust of my cock to create a different boy. He had screamed with pain as I entered him, and screamed again many times after when he was entered again, and they had not been screams of pleasure but most definite screams of pain.

Why then, if he found only pain in being used, did he exhibit gratitude at being kept ever uncovered? Why did he so eagerly present his rear to me for use when he found only pain in that use?

A simple answer would have been that he did so because he was a slave, and I must confess that had been my thought until I tutored Niko.

Now I must admit that the words I write are no true and accurate record of events and of words spoken, for they were fifty and more years ago and I write the essence, the detail long forgotten.

"If I were a slave and for sale in the market, what would you do?" Niko asked before I began to attempt again to teach him.

"Buy you to use for my pleasure," I replied without hesitation, thinking that perhaps Niko was giving me an opportunity to show him how to think, and that would reduce the necessity of beating him for errors, "Though that could not happen as you would command a far greater price than I could afford."

"Many would bid for me?" he asked.

"All there would seek to find the means to purchase you," I assured him, "But would you wish to be sold?"

"If I was sold, a man would own me. Is it permitted to pretend you had sufficient coin to buy me?"

"I am your tutor and my duty is to teach you," I answered, still believing I might turn this idle talk into a lesson in thinking, a lesson Niko had great need for, "And if today instead of military history, we work on how to follow a thought to its conclusion, then we may make that pretence. And it would probably be good if we did so," I smiled, "As I doubt your rear can yet take another beating."

"It hurt more on my legs," Niko grinned, "My scream was almost real."

"It was convincing," I assured him, "I have no doubt your father was satisfied that you were learning something."

"I did learn something," Niko fixed his eyes on mine, "Would you beat me often if you owned me?"

"I have never found a need to beat my boy slave," I said.

"Why not? You took pleasure in beating me, did you not? And what are boy slaves for if not to use for pleasure?"

I confess I had found pleasure in beating him; the whistle of the leather through the air, the wonderful sound it made when it landed on his flesh, the clenching of his buttocks as pain seared deep, the gasps and whimpers, even the scream, had made my cock swell.

And not my cock alone!

I thought of the hardness Niko had obtained when he was beaten, of how he had displayed that hardness to me, of how he had made no protest when I took him in my hand and then my mouth until he fed me his sweetness.

"You wished to be beaten," I said, "You made errors so I had to beat you."

"I did," he confessed.

"But why?"

"In hope you would make some use of me."

I can see that on the page it appears this incident flows easily, but I know that in reality it was not like that. At times Niko spoke quickly, at other times there were long times of silence while he searched for what he wished to say, but he was thinking, seeking to make sense of actions and the ideas that led to those actions.

"I like the pain," he said after one long pause, "It frees something inside my head, allows me to do what I want to do."

"And can you not do what you desire to do without first being beaten?"

"I think I could if I was a slave. If I was a slave a man would own me and as my owner he could use me in any way he wanted and would not have need to beat me first. Though I believe I would still have a wish to be beaten some. Your beatings of me raise great desire in me."

"I noticed," I grinned at him, "But I hope I would not have need to beat you every time I wished for you in my mouth."

"If you owned me you could beat any part of my body you desired, the marks on a slave have no need to be hidden as they are on me, but I would wish you to thrash me on the rear until I screamed for real before you entered me."

Niko was not playing a game, not following a thought for the sake of argument as philosophers do, he was saying what he felt, revealing a deep desire.

"And do you have a wish to be entered?"

"I long for it with all my heart and mind, and will make errors for you to beat me until your desire matches mine."

Niko was truly not an intelligent boy, but neither was he as stupid as he had made me first believe. His awareness of who he was as the son of an important man prevented him from following his desires, but when he could pretend to be a slave he found he had no such restrictions on his freedom.

I taught him all I knew of the pleasures a boy may have, and in those lessons he was a most apt and diligent pupil, and turned what he learned into large fortune later in his life.

The common element in Boy Slave and Niko was desire; not my desire for them, the natural desire that all men have to take their pleasure in boys, but their desire to be used for pleasure. A desire Niko knew he had but, because of his position and status, could not act on unless he was beaten first, a desire that Boy Slave did not know he had until I forced myself inside him.

This, I came then to believe, was what Ephebophilos should have searched for; not the essence of pleasure and if it is to be found in all boys, but the nature of the desire that drives boys to need to be used for pleasure.

For myself  there could be no doubt that now as a young man, my desire was to enjoy boys, and by boys I mean to imply all between the ages of ten and sixteen; my appreciation of young mouth did not develop until later.

Following Niko I had four other boys to tutor, older than Niko and of some intelligence and in need of learning the arts of rhetoric. Three of the four would have fetched good money in the market and the other had no difficulty in finding a buyer though for a lesser sum.

Regretfully, all four had fathers of a more traditional leaning than Niko did, and all came equipped with scapegoats. I made what I could of the situation and required the scapegoats to be ever unclothed for their owners' lessons. Two of those slaves were younger than their owners, one, the property of a boy of fifteen, was no more than ten, the other two of a similar age to the pupils whose mistakes they would be beaten for.

It would be false of me to say that I did not enjoy the beating of those scapegoats, the wonderful crack of leather on their flesh, the yelps and bleats and even the occasional scream I forced from between their tightly clenched teeth a pleasing diversion from the tedium of teaching.

More interesting even than the shades of red I could produce on their battered rears were the reactions of the pupils as they observed their scapegoats being beaten.

All were most evidently aroused by the sights and sounds, and all, I became most certain of, took the first opportunity they had to quench their arousal inside their slaves. One, the pupil who owned the youngest scapegoat took, I could not fail to notice, to making deliberate mistakes at the very end of his lessons, no doubt so he was able to enter his slave while its rear was still bright red and hurting.

Naturally I did my best to aid in the satisfaction of his desire and thrashed the young scapegoat's rear with extra energy to ensure he was in a prime condition to provide satisfaction.

It occurred to me to wonder if, perhaps, that particular scapegoat found beatings released his desire to provide pleasure in the same manner as Niko did, or if it was that it was that the pupil wished that it were he being beaten, and because it was not, he ensured his scapegoat suffered extra pain and then expended his frustration by entering and riding his freshly beaten slave with all the force he could muster.

Whatever it was, I was certain that all was driven by desire even if that desire was not recognised.

His course in rhetoric was the conclusion of that youth's formal education, he then sent to another branch of his family to learn matters of law. He was deemed then to be no longer in need of a scapegoat and his parent wondered to me if that slave would have an educational use for me, perhaps for exhibition beatings to new pupils, he having no use for a boy slave of as many years as ten.

With Boy Slave now nearing fourteen and me closing in on thirty yet still without the means to purchase, I gratefully accepted that kind offer. Though naturally I still made use of Boy Slave's mouth and rear, it was his front now that was of the greatest interest to me, so the acquisition of something of the age where mouth and rear demand to be used, pleased me greatly, and not to be ignored was the knowledge that the rear involved was accustomed to frequent beatings.

I must confess, and do so willingly, that my time as tutor brought me to an understanding of the pleasures involved in the beating of boys. I never had and never did give my support to the practice of beating new slaves to encourage them to give pleasure, and firmly believe that beating should be a pleasure in itself, both for the one who beats and for the one who is beaten.

Of course a boy slave suffers pain when he is thrashed, and the nature of that pain may be varied by choosing with care the part of his body that is thrashed, but always he knows that his tormented howls are giving pleasure to his owner and his ever desire is to give such pleasure.

That pleasure is present also for the boy slave when he is skilfully beaten for enjoyment is made most clear and plain when the slave has become a youth. A proper beating will always bring such a slave to hardness, and if continued, will cause him to climax also, visible evidence of the pleasure he has been given.

Naturally I beat that former scapegoat, whose name was Cumo, most frequently and always rewarded him after by entering him, enjoying the wondrous hot tightness of his insides. Later, and for my amusement, I beat him and then had Boy Slave enter and ride him whilst I watched, much as I do now with Sympo and Mato, though Sympo has never been beaten.

I found that my desire to beat a boy slave has diminished in company with my ability to enter them, so it may be that those two pleasures are linked and combined, but what has most certainly not declined is the pleasure I find in watching two slave boys rut. The energy and enthusiasm they commit to the task is a delight to witness, and of course I now have Doro to use his mouth on me while I do so, and though hardness is now beyond me I still find pleasure in the mouths of boys.

But I digress again and offer the apology of my advanced age that I do so. Sympo, I can see, is most interested in what I write, but I doubt if these stray thoughts are of interest to others.

"If being beaten is a pleasure for boys," Sympo asks, holding me to the present, "Why have I not been beaten?"

"Because," I say with some sternness, "I have no wish to beat you. I would find now no pleasure in it."

"But could you not beat me and then have Mato mount and ride me for you to watch? Just the once," he wheedles, "So I may know what it is like?"

I have no wish to deprive my boy slaves of pleasure and tell Sympo that I will think on it and he grins happily at me and permits me to continue with my tale.

Yet before I am able to write another word Sympo interrupts my thoughts again looking at me in a most perplexed manner.

"What is it, Sympo?" I sigh with resignation; being eleven and with intelligence Sympo is ever curious and being eleven he is most persistent in demanding satisfaction of his curiosity.

"Why is it that you believe others will not be interested in reading how you enjoyed beating your boy slaves and having one mount another for rutting after they had been beaten, for you to enjoy watching them? It interests me, so why should it not interest others also?"

I sigh again and reach my hand beneath Sympo's kirtle to discover the extent of his interest. I am not surprised to find that his interest is such that it has hardened him – Sympo is hard more often than he is soft – and I appreciate his little hardness with my fingers, bringing a smile of pleasure to his smooth face.

"We have no knowledge of the manners and customs people may have in times to come," I explain, "It may be that those people do not keep slaves. Perhaps they no longer find pleasure in the use of boys. Perhaps," I search for something too unlikely to be believable to show how different the future may be from the present, "They may have laws that outlaw men from taking pleasure in boys, or that boys may not be beaten even by the tutors who teach them. Perhaps," I allow my fantasy to go beyond all bounds of credibility, "There may be in the distant future a people who do not permit boys to even read of such pleasures and delights."

Sympo shakes his head, denying the possibility of such wild imaginings ever being real.

"I am a philosopher," I say gently, enjoying the feel of Sympo's young hardness, "And you have the mind to become one. It is a philosopher's duty to explore with his mind the impossible becoming possible, just as it is a boy slave's duty to explore how to give pleasure with his body."

This, Sympo understands and grins at me.

"I like giving pleasure," his eyes twinkle, and being a boy never to waste an opportunity, "And I want to explore if being beaten pleasures me."

He smirks, knowing he has ensured that he will get his wish, and tells me that I may continue with my tale.

Cumo was of an age to climax when beaten and also my only slave, I having gifted Boy Slave to the carpenter who manufactured the `WIndslave' and who was in need of an apprentice, he being then beyond an age where he could provide me longer with pleasure though the carpenter made use of him for that as well as for cutting and shaping wood, when I received a request from Niko who was now a Legate with five hundred men under his command.

It appeared that a dispute had arisen with Merpolis, a neighbouring city, over what had once been tribal lands between our cities. Those lands were tribal lands no more, having been over-harvested for slaves in the now distant past by both cities and were now just worthless and unoccupied waste.

Merpolis had sent two full legions to occupy that land, though for what purpose none could conceive as the land had no worth, and our city Council had given order that Niko and his half-legion be sent to oppose them.

Niko had been possessed of no great intelligence when a youth, but he did have determination and some natural cunning, as witnessed by his  use of his liking for pain to entice me to gratify his youthful desire to be entered. He had no great liking, he told me, for the military life, and was a soldier only because to have been one was a necessary qualification to become a magistrate, and to be a wealthy magistrate was now his desire.

As a soldier he knew he was supposed to long for a heroic death at the hands of a fearsome foe, but he had no wish for that as it contradicted with his desire to be a wealthy magistrate and spend his life enjoying boys in comfort, and so he turned to his former tutor for assistance.

He was now obliged to take his five hundred men and lay claim to a land that the city had no use for, and to do that he must perforce give battle to an overwhelming force, sent by another city to lay claim to land they also had no use for, and he trusted that I, with my knowledge of battles past, would devise a way in which he could fulfil his orders and also avoid a heroic death.

Being as I was tired of tutoring, finding no satisfaction in beating yet another scapegoat of an ignorant pupil, as it was most unlikely that I would find opportunity to make proper use of either the slave or the pupil, I consented to accompany Niko with the proviso that I did so as a civilian advisor and not as a soldier. Not only did I also have no wish to encounter a heroic death, but as a civilian I could take with me my boy slave Cumo, military men being prohibited from taking slaves on military expeditions.

To that proviso Niko unhesitatingly agreed when I assured him that Cumo could be used for our comfort, taking simultaneously, after a stimulating beating, one of us in the mouth and the other in the rear.

We located the enemy force with no difficulty; the enemy being led by a most experienced general they had encamped where any general of experience would set his camp, in a broad, flat meadow surrounded on three sides by hills, where tents could be easily erected and men marched in circles for their daily exercise.

It was also ideal ground for battle as battles are best fought on flat and open land.

If we were to fight we would be defeated and Niko could see no alternative to a heroic death.

"We don't fight," I told him, "We invite the enemy to surrender."

"Five hundred expect two thousand to surrender?" Niko expessed incredulity.

"No," I explained the obvious, "Four thousand offer two thousand the opportunity of avoiding a heroic death."

So when darkness came, Niko followed my instructions and had his five hundred march as noisily as they could to the slopes of the nearest hills and set fires as though they camped there, and with those fires burning brightly they marched with equal noise to the next hills and did the same again and also with the third hills.

At each set of fires, a dozen men were left to keep them burning and to raise flags and standards that would flutter clearly in the light of dawn, so the enemy could have no doubt when they rose from their sleep that they were surrounded by an overwhelming force.

With daylight, Niko moved his five hundred forward and sent envoy to the enemy general requesting his surrender.

Believing his alternative was heroic death and naturally having no wish for that, but needing to return to his city with his honour intact, that general was amenable to negotiation and a satisfactory agreement was rapidly reached. If both sides left the field at the same time then neither could claim victory, but nor could either be reviled for humiliating defeat an honourable draw having been declared.

Merpolis could claim sovereignty over half of the unwanted land and our city the same for the other half, both sides satisfied as neither side had lost.

"The city Council must give you some reward," I mentioned to Niko on the homeward march, "You should request ownership of this land as that will cost them nothing so they will most likely grant you it."

"And what use would I have for it?" Niko asked.

"Farm it," I said, giving voice to an idea that had come to my mind.

"It would take hundreds if not thousands of slaves to turn this to profitable land," Niko observed, "And besides I have no wish to be a farmer."

"I was not thinking of harvesting wheat or olives," I said, "But of growing crops of slaves."

The idea was so simple I could not but wonder it was not already common practice.

"Women slaves are cheap, especially those with babies or tiny children. Set let us say fifty such on a patch of land and perhaps a dozen men slaves with them and orders that they have no duty other than to provide for themselves and breed, and in a few years you will have a harvestable crop, and all with no effort on your part."

So began my rise to fortune for Niko was hailed as a hero on our return, though some Council members felt Niko should have laid claim to all the worthless land and not to a mere half of it, his request for that land granted as his reward as none saw any use or profit in it for themselves, and a loan obtained from his wealthy father to purchase slaves, Niko established his first farm, and in gratitude made me his partner in the venture.

Needless to say it took some few years before our first crop was ready for harvest, and in that time I began to establish myself as a philosopher and also gave some thought as to how to extract the greatest profit from our farm.

At first I was, of course, a novelty on the dinner entertainment round and I  needed to be controversial and not bland if I were to obtain sufficient invitations to dinners to sustain me, and so I based my talks around the value of the beating of boy slaves as an aid to the increasing of desire.

The beating of slaves, boy slaves as well as others, was regarded simply as punishment; except for a few more sophisticated citizens who sought to extract more than simply the basic pleasures from their boy slaves,  the idea of using beating as a preparation for entry was quite revolutionary. The concept that a boy slave's desire to be used and entered might be enhanced by the thoughtful beating of him provoked lively discussions, and no doubt many boy slaves were beaten after those dinners and discussions as owners sought to test my theory.

Indeed, I received requests more than one to give instructional demonstrations at symposiums, and for those I charged a fee.

As the first crop on Niko's farm began to ripen towards harvest I began a detailed study of the market, wishing naturally to maximise the income from that crop.

It became apparent that very few citizens had any wish for mouths below the age of six, and those few below that age that were sold fetched prices too low to be of any worth.  There was a steady demand for those between six and eight, but the highest prices of all were those obtained by the sale of those from eight to ten, and if those boy slaves could be guaranteed as being fresh and unused then only the very rich could even contemplate bidding.

Most surprising and remarkable of all, however, were the sums achieved by previously owned items that came with reliable provenance that their mouths were trained but their rears unentered, and if one such and of the age of ten were put to auction, the bidding was fierce indeed.

Thus I devised a strategy for the marketing of our crop which I placed before Niko.

Our fifty women slaves were producing as one would expect, a child each year, but as we had no control over what those children were, the number of boys from each sowing varied between twenty and thirty. The girls, having little market value, I proposed we keep and permit to mature and when of sufficient age, they too should have seed planted in them and so, in time, enlarge the crop we had to harvest. We had set up the farm with one male for every ten females, and I was sure each male could cope with twice that number of females and so no further expense on our part was needed.

We had twenty three boys nearing harvestable age and similar numbers in each year of growth and were thus assured of a steady income if all were harvested at six, but I explained the additional profit that could be made if some were not sent straight to market, but retained for two extra years and trained to use their mouths.

Niko's thoughts ran parallel to mine, both in his liking for money and his liking for boys, and we agreed to market thirteen of our first crop at six and undertake the education of the other ten in the use of their mouths ourselves.

Sympo does not find this interesting and nor does Mato; both were grown and harvested from one of the slave farms, born and raised to be boy slaves for men's pleasure, and they see farms that raise boys for harvesting as no different  from farms that grow olives or corn.

Indeed, I must acknowledge that in this Mato and Sympo have the right of it, farmed boys are a crop just as corn and olives are crops, sown, tended carefully through growth, harvested and sold for profit, and I will desist from explaining further save to say that half of each year's crop was sold untrained at six, half of the remainder sold with trained mouths at eight, and the others at ten, still unentered and with guaranteed provenance that they were so.

Sympo and Mato exchange glances; I have indulged myself in boy slaves for fifty years and more and made much study of their ways and natures, know all their whims and ways, and these two seek to divert me from writing matters that have little interest for them.

I know from the excited widening of little Doro's eyes that, behind me, Mato has removed his kirtle and in a moment will present his glory to my aged mouth, and that Sympo or Doro, maybe even both, will find their way beneath the table and use their mouths to give what pleasure it is possible to give to an old man who can no longer attain hardness yet delights still in the mouths of boys.

I delay them for a while; Sympo must follow the words I write and I will finish what I have to say of the farms and make them wait a little, an old man's amusement and a thing I could not have done when I was half the age I now am.

It needs no great ability with the calculating of numbers to understand that as we sold no girls but kept all such to grow and become breeding stock, that with the passage of years the numbers of that stock grew and continues still to grow and now there are five farms and not one and farmed boy slaves account now for half of all boys sold in the market.

In as many years again it will be all. Relentless harvesting of the wild crop to feed the city's natural but insatiable desire for boys to use for pleasure has resulted in the need for harvesters to travel months now in search of a crop and the consequent rise in prices has put whatever is found and brought to market beyond the reach of all but the most wealthy.

I turn and Mato is presenting his glorious hardness to me, and I sigh and lay down my pen. Eighty I may be, but still I find I cannot for long resist the wonderful hardness of a boy, or the beauty of him when he is soft.

Sympo and Doro both, dive beneath the table, and I am obliged to leave writing for a while.

 

isukwell@hotmail.co.uk