"Anyway, it seems to me that, in the lives you told me about, you always had happiness, love, exceptional lovers..."
"I just thought you weren't interested in the others. But if you want, I can tell you about when I was Marcus, a Gaul-roman..."
"What period is it?"
"I come to life in 392 and die in 411, when I am eighteen. I am born in a Sequanian villa, a great rural villa that is urbanizing. You know, it is from those villas that the French term "ville" for town, comes. Sometimes there are barbarians' incursions, but they are small groups and the villa is able to defend itself with few losses, also because those groups look for more easy preys. I am thirteen years old when my friend Valerius, a little older than me, catches me masturbating. I am deadly ashamed, because he is my best friend, but he smiles and says that everybody does that and that I have nothing at all to be ashamed of.
To persuade me, he sits next to me and starts to masturbate. I look at him with envy, he has a bigger tool than me. I ask him if I can touch it, and he says yes, or rather, he proposes me to masturbate each other. I like touching it, feeling him touching mine, it is a lot more agreeable than doing it myself. So, a few days after, when he proposes me to do it again, I accept at once. So he starts to touch me, to caress me, and I follow suit. I like it. And when he kisses me, it is even more beautiful. It is a 'crescendo' day after day, until we also start to kiss each other all over our bodies, then even there... and the step to suck each other is short, but above all, very pleasurable.
We don't penetrate each other: it could seem strange to you, but we don't even know it is possible, nobody taught us, nobody made us discover that possibility. We are discovering sexuality by ourselves, step by step..."
"There were no gay people, in your place?"
"Probably yes, the usual ten percent more or less, I think, but we two didn't meet anyone. So, we make love how it comes us in mind, in a very gentle way. Our friendship strengthens, we become inseparable. Our families are neighbours, in very good terms so that our brotherhood doesn't arise any suspect. We know that these are things we are not presumed to do, our village priest taught us that, but we continue, we simply keep it a secret, because we think it will be silly not to do such a good thing, between two intimate friends. We talk about that between ourselves and we both agree on that line of conduct.
I am fourteen. It is winter, more precisely the first day of the year, and we are celebrating when a blood-covered man on his horse arrives and warns us that the barbarians are arriving. The Rhine has frozen and they could pass it in forces. We organize the defence, thinking they are one of the usual groups - the man died soon after giving his alarm and hadn't had the time to tell us how many they are. We hide the victuals, we block the streets with barricades, we take out our weapons and mount the guard.
On January the second they arrive, and we are dismayed: they are advancing on their horses in a thick line that seems to fill the entire horizon. They must be thousands, tens of thousands. They are the Vandals. They approach slowly, like a compact wall. They stop. Our women take the children in the houses, an incredible silence lowers on all the villa. Then, suddenly, the human wall starts the attack, the horses starting off at full gallop, and they shout all together, brandishing their weapons, making them whirl and it is like the sea, roaring, is throwing itself on us. The sun, even if pale, draws frightening glares from the advancing wall that, in a moment invests the villa.
We all fight, also Valerius and I, driven to despair, while that shouting stream outflanks us, surrounds us, starts to infiltrate trough the streets. They overflow, they are everywhere, our men are dying like flies, and also those who surrender are butchered. At this point there is no more real resistance, groups enter the houses, slaughter, pillage, then put them on fire. I am with some thirty of our men. We are surrounded by the yelling mass that improvise a carousel around us, shouting yells, and we can just wait for our death. From time to time they hit one man. I see my father die, then Valerius' father and his elder brother, and others. They are killing us one after the other, slowly. I see that we are now not even ten remaining. And I realize that we are the youngest of the group: it seems that they kills the less young first, leaving us as the last...
In spite of all we still try to defend us, but they, passing near us with their horses, make our weapons fling away from our hands. They can kill us, but they don't. They are amusing themselves. We are now unarmed, defenceless, we herd together, and I feel Valerius taking my hand and squeezing it in silence. Then, one of the horsemen, continuing to run in that infernal carousel around our small survivors' group, leans over his saddle, stretches out an arm and takes one of us and puts him in front of him on the saddle, like a sack, and all the Vandals around us laugh aloud. It is like a signal, one after another we are grasped in that way, I feel Valerius snatched away from me, then I myself am raisen away and I see the ground spinning fast under me. I'm terribly scared.
Suddenly they stop, dismount their horses. I feel I am hurled to the ground, several Vandals jump on me, their blades shining, and while they keep me nailed on the ground, they cut off all my clothes from my body so that in short I am completely naked on the icy ground. I see one of the Warriors opening his clothes at his groin, pulling out his erect member and coming down on me. A moment before he rapes me, I see Valerius, naked like me, screaming under a Vandal, then I feel the member of the one on me violently pushing against my hole. I scream, uselessly try to wriggle out, I hear the laughter of the barbarians keeping me still against the ground, a terrible pain, and the man on me hammering with violence his way inside me. The pain is unbearable, and when that one leaves me, another one immediately takes his place. When the third rapes me, I luckily faint out. I don't know how long I remain on the ground, unconscious. I think a full day, because when I recover my senses the Vandals are no more here.
I try to stand up, I am nearly frozen. I feel intense pain pangs. I pick up my clothes' tatters, trying in some way to cover up myself. Several houses still burn. All around me, corpses. I drag myself around looking for Valerius. He is still unconscious, but alive. There are six more boys around me, living. I have blood between my tights, like all the living boys and several of the dead. Little by little also the others recover their senses. We look at each other, in silence, distressed. We don't know what to say, what to do.
Then, one of us stands up, goes near a dead man and starts to undress him. The others protest, ask him if he went crazy, but he answers that to the dead cloths are of no use, but we need them. So, even if feeling a strong uneasiness, we all follow suit. Then another says we have to check the food hides: perhaps the Vandals didn't find all of them, so we start digging in the still smoking ruins. At the fifth attempts we have luck. We eat.
At evening, after working as long as there is light to bury our dead, we really just amass them in the crypt of what was our church, we lie down, exhausted, to sleep. Valerius and I, not caring at all of what others could think, sleep tightly embraced. A little to contrast the cold, a little in instinct quite to console each other.
The day after we ask ourselves what to do. We think we can go southwards, where there are other villas, hoping they will accept us. But for two days we walk, crossing just burned villas and desolation. It seems that they passed everywhere and the scenes we see are even more horrible than what we left behind. In one villa, for instance, the slaughtered bodies have been literally cut in pieces, an useless and gratuitous cruelty...
Finally, behind a hill, we see an intact villa. There are yet other refugees, they welcome us as they can. But the villa cannot maintain so many people, so the inhabitants invite us, with gentle firmness, to move further south, as soon as possible. We decide to sleep there and to resume our journey the day after.
We leave at dawn, nine of us, taking with us just some food for the journey. But after the Vandals, also the Alans arrived. We discover it at our expenses when suddenly, at mid afternoon a band of these barbarians pounce on us. Our group instinctively herd together. They surround us, dismount their horses, and with gestures, menacing us with their swords, make us understand they want all we are carrying with us. We give them our poor bundles. Then one of the barbarians approaches one of us boys, takes him by his arm and yells something to his companions. The other laugh and circle the boy, they force him to kneel and we think they want to kill him, but they uncover his ass and rape him.
It is like a signal, also Valerius and I are grasped and they don't even spare the four aged men that are with us. When they finally leave, they have killed three of us who attempted to resist them, and amongst them, also Valerius. I don't know why, I didn't cry even when I saw the corpses of my father and mother, or of other relatives or friends, but now I bitterly cry for Valerius. I put his clothes in order, bring him between the trees, cover his dead body as good as I can with evergreen branches.
One of the other survivors forces me to leave. I don't know if the pain of the soul or of the body is stronger. I walk with the others, like an automaton. Somebody proposes to go back, to the villa from where we started. Others say that it is better to go further south, to the mountains. I don't care. A young man who decided to go back, takes me with him. I follow him without objecting.
Back at that villa we tell them our new misadventure and beg them to let us stay. As many had left, and also on the intercession of the local priest, we are allowed to remain. Also because the people don't feel safe, and decided to fortify the villa, so some more arms to do the work, are useful now.
For one month we all work, women and children included, to rise palisades, dry walls, trying to dig moats, but this last idea is soon abandoned, in fact the frozen ground is harder then granite. We men are hosted in the small chapel, the women in various houses.
After one month of hard work, one of the children on guard on the surrounding trees, comes to the villa, running and shouting that barbarians are coming. They are different from the first and the second kind, those are Suebes. Reaching the limits of the village, they slowly spread out, surrounding us. One of them comes forward and, shouting in a broken Latin, asks us not to resist them, if we want to save both the village and our lives. He warns us that at minimal resistance they will kill all of us and burn all the houses. They are numerous, too many. After a short discussion, the village people decide to surrender. So, the barbarians had all of us to file and to depose all our weapons. Then they divide us in two groups: on one side all those between fifteen and twenty five years old, men and women, on another side all the others. Meanwhile they start to systematically pillage the houses, taking away all the food, the valuables like clothes, furs and metallic objects.
Behind their column there are several carriages with their women and children, and they load everything in their carriages. Then they start to tie all the people of the younger group, where I too am. The priest asks them what they are doing, and the one who knows some Latin, answers that they are taking us as slaves. The priest protests, but as an answer they cut his throat.
The barbarians' column leaves the village and we follow. In march formation, the carriages are in the centre of the column, with a double row of warriors on each side. We are tied to each other at our necks, our wrists tied in front of us, and our ankles are tied with a short rope so that we can walk but not run. They march singing, a strange song, sad and strong at the same time. Sometimes they stop not far from a torrent, making a tight circle with their carriages and at its centre they light some bonfires. They eat, sing, then divide the day plunder, us slaves included, making the parts in hierarchic order.
There are other slaves who were taken before us, not many and all young. So I come to know what our destiny will be. We will have to care the horses, to gather wood for the fires, water, always under escort, to carry out all the heaviest works and, quite often, let our master take us, especially when he is not yet married. Obviously. Not all the barbarians have a family, just about three of four.
My master is a herculean man, around forty years old, his coarse hair united in two plaits. He has a wife and six children, the elder around twenty and the little one around five years old. He puts me immediately to work. He makes me understand with gestures what he wants from me. At night he sleeps in the carriage, with his wife and his children. I sleep under the chariot, tied. But at least I have a fur blanket and I eat regularly.
When I don't understand what he wants from me, he sometimes menacingly shouts at me, but all considered he is not a bad man. His wife is worst: sometimes she beats me with a kind of flexible can that she normally uses to drive the animals which pull their chariot. The two elder sons are quite all the time with friends their age, and they don't treat me neither good nor bad.
Even if the chariots are more or less of one family, life takes place in great groups, probably of relatives, or of comrades in arms, I don't know for sure. Also food is prepared in great groups composed of several families. The march order is strictly fixed. Each group has his vexilla, a long spear with a symbol on the top. The group where I am has a deer antler as an emblem. Each group has always the same place in the marching column or in the chariots circle. And inside the group there is a strict hierarchy.
All along our way they attack several communities, some they completely destroy, some not, according to the resistance they meet. And the number of slaves slowly increases..."
"Didn't you say that sometimes the masters did sexually use their slaves? Did they with you?" Eugenio interrupts.
"For the first months, under this point of view that seems so interesting to you, nothing happens to me. I am their slave for four months, it is spring. Also the eldest sons, now, when the night is no more too cold, start to sleep under the chariot. I guess because their parents want a little more intimacy, or space, or both. I'm starting to understand their language. One night I wake up, feeling somebody is touching me. The eldest son of my master, Unwin, is untying my breeches.
When he sees that I'm awake, he looks at me with his piercing eyes and orders me to lower my breeches. It is useless to oppose, so I comply. He caresses my bare ass for a good while. He rolls me on my side, scoops behind me, and he brushes his cock with energy between my buttocks, but he doesn't yet penetrate me. I ask myself what he is waiting for, it is evident what he wants from me. He caresses my belly, my genitals and, in spite of all, he arouses me. This is what he was waiting for: as soon as he feels my hard on, he puts his saliva in my anus and starts. He is not violent, he slides it inside me little by little, continuing to caress my genitals so that I don't lose my erection.
His tool is not too big, he can slip it all inside me without giving me pain, just a slight annoyance. I hear him breathing and he starts to slowly move inside me. Little by little I start to feel even a little pleasure. It is evident that he doesn't want to hurt me, and that, after all my previous experiences, amazes me. Now, while he is moving in and out of me, he is masturbating me at full hand. My pleasure increases and he is aware of that. His breath becomes more deep and fast, quite panting. Now he is taking me with some more energy, but again without violence.
Suddenly I cum, and soon after he too cums inside me, strongly panting. Then he parts from me and goes back to sleep. I put me in order and relax: after all, I think, it wasn't bad at all... Evidently he too enjoyed it, because two nights later it happens again. And this time, at the end, he tells me that he likes my ass. I, instinctively, answer: thank you. He then has a short smile and tells me that it's all the better, because he intends to do it again with me.
It is three days later when he comes again to the attack. I'm sleeping on my back. He crouches near me and starts to untie my breeches. I wake up and he smiles at me, continuing what he is doing. I then lean out my hand and caress between his legs, feeling his hard on. He again smiles to me, satisfied, even more when I rummage in his clothes and pull it out. I then approach with my face and starts to lick it. He is surprised and jumps back and fells seated on the ground, his legs wide open, his hands on his back. So I bend down to him and start again, and when I feel his tool throbbing, I start to suck at it. I like the feeling of his strong cock throbbing in my mouth, after so much time. He emits a short surprised moan, but then he pushes his pelvis towards me, letting me understand that he is appreciating what I'm doing to him.
I suck and lick, and lightly knead his balls, and when I feel he is ready, I go on all my fours offering myself to him. He comes to me and enters me, then starts to pump inside me, caressing me all over my body and masturbating me like all the other times. He is really very excited, because in a few strokes he unloads inside my channel. But he doesn't withdraw, he continues to masturbate me until I too cum. Just then he slowly withdraws and, while we reset our clothing, he tells me that he likes me very much. I thank him again. I too liked it this time. And I want it to become even more pleasing...
Little by little I involve him in my love plays: I uncover his chest and suckle his nipples and he seems being mad for the pleasure. Now he unites with me every night, with ardour, and once he tells me that I'm a lot better than the slave girls he was used to share with the other youths. The fact is that I like him more and more and that I really want to please him.
A first consequence of this changed relationship is that Unwin starts to treat me kindly, even during the day, and once, as his mother is beating me because I unintentionally spilled some water, he tells her to stop. And at night he assures me that his mother will never again beat me. And he caresses me. Then, I think he is ready for a new thing: I kiss him in his mouth.
It is evident that it is his first time, his eyes widen, then he awkwardly starts to reciprocate my kiss, and he likes it. I'm aware that I'm conquering him, little by little. Now, also for the food, I don't have just leftovers, because Unwin personally gives me my food.
It is summer. The Suebes, after conquering a municipality and having pillaged it, make their encampment near a small lake. Unwin takes me to the shore and tells me we can bathe. I tell him that, with my wrists and ankles tied, I would risk drowning. He then asks me to swear that I will not attempt to flee away, and unties me. We undress and plunge in the water. What a relief! I feel free and, for a moment, I feel tempted to flee away swimming... even more when I realize that Unwin is not near me, and that he is nearer to the shore than me... But I give up: I gave him my word and he trusted me... Moreover, where to go in that ravaged land?
We are back to the shore and we lay under the sun. And then, he asks me why I didn't flee: he swam toward the beach expressly to give me the possibility to do it... I look at him stupefied, then I tell him: I gave you my word... He smiles and says I am a real man. We dress and I ask him to tie again my ankles. He says that at this point it is no more necessary. I then tell him that I actually felt the temptation to flee away, and that I don't know if it will not come again. He tells me, seriously, that if I try to flee, he would have to search for me and then to kill me, and he doesn't want this to happen. So, I insist he has to tie me, and he does it.
But that same night, after he unties me, he, for the first time, sucks my nipples, caresses me, and kisses me for a long while before taking me. I like more and more making love with him, but he also likes very much doing it with me. I also like a lot how he takes me, with vigour but tenderness. And after we cum, he doesn't any more go back to his pallet, but remains with me, caressing and sweetly kissing me... He is my master, it is true, but at this point he is also my lover...
The barbarian groups don't attack just the Gaul-roman villas and municipalities, but they often also have bloody clashes between themselves. During these months there are three clashes, twice against the Vandals and once against the Alans, but always the Suebes are the winners. During the last attack of the Vandals, while I hide myself under the carriage, I see Unwin falling from his horse and an enemy trying to hit him. So, without thinking, I just come out from under the chariot, I take a metal bucket hanging from it and with all my strength I throw it towards the Vandal, hitting him on the chest while he is lowering his cutting blow. The Vandal staggers, Unwin has the time to stand up and, from below, he transfixes his enemy. He mounts his horse again, but only after throwing me a glance.
The Vandals, seeing their attempt to overthrow the Suebes useless, rapidly withdraw and the Suebes, after a short attempt to pursue them, come back to the encampment, triumphant. They prepare a big bonfire where they burn their dead in a solemn rite, they set the widows and orphans, then they celebrate the victory. After this Unwin tells his father how I saved his life, and asks him to set me free. This thing has no precedents, so it is discussed by all men of the group. But in the end it is accepted.
I really don't know where to go, so I ask Unwin to keep me with him. Just now, I am no more tied, and I eat with the free men. Winter comes. Unwin decides to continue to sleep with me under the chariot. He is not the only young man to sleep out, so this doesn't surprise the others, and we continue to make love.
But near the end of winter our column is attacked by the Imperial legions. It was one year nobody saw them. They win. They free the slaves, but the other slaves accuse me being a friend of the barbarians, so I'm taken away in chains, together with the surviving Suebes, amongst whom unfortunately there is no Unwin: he died in the battle.
We are brought to Treviri. For some time we remain chained in the prison. But with the full of spring, we are offered to work as slaves in the country, for a rich man of the town. I accept, together with a few others. The new master treats me with much hardness and despise, probably because I am a Gaul-roman and sees me as a traitor.
So, I decide to try to escape. I'm now quite eighteen years old. During my slave period in Treviri I often have sex with the other slaves, in fact slaves cannot have women, and I am one of the youngest... To me there is no problem, even if of course no one of them is a Valerius or an Unwin... One of them is always very kind to me, more than any other slave, both when he takes me and during the day. So I confide him my project to escape, asking him to help me. He says that he feels all right being a slave there, so he doesn't want to escape, but he assures me he will help me. But instead, he betrays me. To gain merits at our master's eyes, when I'm ready to flee, he tells it to our master.
The master hates me. He acts as if he didn't know. He just hides some archers. When I put my project in act, feeling safe, I have just the time to go out of the fields enclosure and go towards the forest, when an arrow pierces my arm. I run, a second arrow pierces my back. I fall down, I feel other arrows piercing me while I lose consciousness, and then life abandons my body..."
Eugenio emits a sigh and says: "Ah, those were really barbarous times. Happily Europe, since centuries, has become a civilized land..."
"Do you really believe so? Then, hear the story of Ignace, born in Bruxelles on February the 14th 1807 and dead in Bristol on April 29th 1838."
"No, I have no time now, I'm sorry. You can tell me tomorrow. Will I still find you?"
"Sure, the needed day didn't yet elapse, so there is no danger I have to leave. Hear you tomorrow, then."