Runaway

Featuring Mat Wolf

1. Enquiries2.

“Tell me, my lord …..”The High Priest sat opposite on his throne. Dominating this space. Addressing the ruler. But his eyes full of the naked body helplessly spread between a pair of columns.“ … a runaway slave. What is the prescribed punishment?”

He gritted his teeth. Hearing from behind the tell-tale swish of air. The cane bit stinging into his bare arse. His body lifted. His back arched. The out-spread arms went taut, the hands clenched into tight fists. Already a good half-dozen smarting lashes across his bare backside. He panted. The rush of heat shooting through his muscle-solid body.

“What happens to a runaway slave?”The Priest had simplified the question. It was almost surreal. That damned High Priest was conducting a matter-of-fact conversation as if a naked man was not having the crap beaten out of his hide. He saw the Priest glance sideways. At the Prince who ruled here. But who was seated on the throne? The Prince stood alongside .. almost looking like some advisor to the man commanding the authority of the throne. The presence that really ruled.

“Fifty lashes. In public. Before the people. Or in front of other slaves. As an example to others. Whatever fits ……”FIFTY! Shit! We’re only up to six. And he was running with sweat. Fear. Terror. Pain.“Then hard labour. Worked into the ground. Water but no food. Worked till he drops.”

Again he had hissed out. Another stinging swipe. A burning bite taken out of his bare backside. The priest raised his hand to halt the flogger. He was panting, trying to catch his breath. Relieved he saw the flogger stand down. He felt them both, priest and prince, linger their looks over his nakedness. And he shivered.

The Prince continued his narration. Did the Priest actually need this? Didn’t he know already? Or was this for the runaway’s benefit? To put the frights under him?“And when no more work can be squeezed out .. useless, good-for-nothing .. waste of food .. he gets taken outside the city walls. Chained to a stake. The wolves do the rest.”It WAS for his benefit. And it worked. He felt a flush of anxiety in his dick. Frightened he might piss himself.

He was no slave he wanted to shout back. Kidnapped. Just a traveller passing through. Getting provisions in the market when he’d been spotted. Snatched for his good looks. Fit for purpose they thought. Right for the job.And what a job!

Servicing the temple’s handmaidens. As often and whenever they wanted. What hot-blooded young male wouldn’t jump at the chance? He ranted at getting arrested. He railed at getting robbed of his liberty. But getting his rocks off any time of the day or night? Better than some work-slave down the mines. Besides, he had always reckoned on breaking out. Running away. If he had to hang around fucking to his heart’s content till his chance came .. well, what was to complain about?

“You.”The High Priest was pointing at another temple guard. He looked shocked. Obviously his thoughts have been somewhere else.“Take over the flogging.”The guard rushed forward awkwardly. Got his hands on the handled strap and blushing hurried to the slave spread for punishment.“Shirt off, idiot,” the High Priest growled. “This is no stroll in the park.”The guard was clearly thrown. Nervously he stripped to the waist. His victim eyed him warily as a belly full of muscle was revealed. Broad hard chest. Thick muscular shoulders. Clearly he had been hired for something other than his brain. A body that could hurt.

“And put your back into it.”The High Priest scowled at him.“Or you’ll find yourself there …..”The prisoner looked at the guard. Saw him freeze at the priest’s words. There was no doubt. He’d do just that. Put his back into it.

2. Privileged

“And if a slave had special attributes …..?”The High Priest sat comfortable back in his throne. His admonitions to the guard had done their work. Gone from the slave any look of anger. No more retorts like earlier than he had been kidnapped, he was no slave. He was shattered, he could barely keep his head raised. Sweat ran off his hair. His whole body .. even where the lash had not struck .. it was tinged with bright flushes of pain. A good dozen strikes with the long strap across his back .. that had kept shut his protesting mouth.

The priest had raised his hand for the beating to halt. While he engaged further in philosophical queries with this Prince.

“Such as when a slave has been privileged .. because of particular assets he can bring ….? Not some grunting muscle-bound beast destined for the mines.”The Priest’s eyes scoured down the sweat-drenched male form strung out between the pillars. Remarkably sculpted, male perfection. He himself was not attracted to men. But this masculine perfection was erotic .. he had to admit. Even to a man. What the temple handmaidens must have thought! Having this muscular hunk, naked here in his full glory, made available to service their needs. The man was made to keep the maidens happy. But then he’d run away.

Odd to feel grateful. This bastard of a priest, he had called a halt. Had he ever been so thankful in his life? He was suffering, like crazy. Sweating profusely. He’d been determined to see this through. Stay true to himself. His anger with himself at getting captured again .. his old frustrations that he had been kidnapped, forced into this life .. he had counted on those emotions to see him through his ordeal. So damned angry. But the hits into his back! Mind-blowing. The force behind each blow .. breath-taking, he could hardly breathe.

“You mean ….?”The Prince was stood alongside the Priest. Despite his suffering, helplessly strung out between these pillars, .. still his head could not miss the point. The ruler stood. The Priest sat. No doubt who commanded here.“I had once a stonemason. Slave. Commissioned him effigies to venerate the temple. Some exquisite work. Some magnificent specimens adorn the temple now.”

Fuck, he needed something to drink. He was running with sweat. Every breath he took cost him massive effort. It hurt like hell. However many lashes across his back he’d taken .. he had no idea .. how many more to fifty? .. He’d been struggling. Biting on his tongue. Determined to be true to himself. But struggling like hell not to scream out. But …. instincts told him there was something worse to listen in to here. The High Priest had not set off on this topic for idle gossip.

“But he ran away. That stonemason .. honoured to perform exquisite commissions .. he took off.”The Prince halted. He felt those royal eyes coat his sweat-drenched naked torso. Fuck! What went on in the heads of these rulers? Watching a man sweating out his fears .. lashed across his arse .. a couple of dozen blows across the back. And still they talked as if they were doing small-talk with a friend.

“Had to make an example of him. After all, he’d led a privileged life …..”As a slave! His blood boiled. Knowing the life of a reluctant slave. OK, so his duties had been fucking young girls. Not the worst way to spend your days. But there hadn’t been a single day when he hadn’t yearned to be free. Planned to escape.

“HOW? THAT is my point. How is it different then? A man who had thrown a privileged life back in your face?”He was afraid of that High Priest. There was no doubt who ruled here. Which bastard was the one seated? It was the Prince who formally ruled. But it was the priest’s words that carried weight. He felt those looks, cold and indifferent, float over his flat muscled belly .. like claws. Sharp talons almost as stinging as the strap laid into his backside.

He’d been kidnapped. Set to work. Fucking this priest’s temple maidens. But his urges to be himself, free of this duty-crap .. they’d been stronger than the pleasures of his cock. True-to-himself. The need to be free. He’d spotted his chance. Escaped. Leaving this bastard High Priest with a lot of women whining down his ear.

“A mason needs his hands. His assets, so-to-speak. No hands, no effigies, no privileges.”It all felt far from comfortable .. stood there with those eyes running over him. Examining him .. both of them .. eagerly searching for signs of whether he was suffering enough.“So .. after the scourging .. in front of the household slaves .. I had his hands chopped off. The wounds sealed in the coals.”He shuddered. Hearing this Prince coldly narrate the agonies of his stonemason. Who’d served him well. Fashioning effigies for the temple above.“After all .. he’d enjoyed a privileged life. He’d let me down.”Suddenly he felt the Prince’s gaze turn on him. Like a stinging lash with hardened leather across his front. Biting into his belly.“Like this one has …..”

3. Disappointment

Fuck! What was he to do? With horror he’d spotted the Priest nod to the guard with the cane. Moments later that terrifying sound again cut across the air. The call of a leather-braided cane sizzling through the light. Targeted on his burning backside.

He yelped. The strike exploded on his whiplashed arse. No way he could hold it in. He yelled. The pain overwhelmed his will .. desperate to keep it in. Keep his pain to himself. And already his ears heard another whoosh. Another lash targeted on his tortured arse. All those hits there. His backside stinging with raw pain. The force of the strike jarred his hips forward. The pain of braided cane on burning flesh made his eyes pop.

Strike-upon-strike. Pain like his backside was glazed with liquid fire. It sizzled, flesh fried. Lash-upon-stinging lash. Burning globes of agony. A firestorm that raced scorching down his muscled

thighs. It crackled up his spine. Yelling out with each painful swipe. His muscular torso jerked upwards under a sharp bite of torment taken out of his bare arse. He’d wanted to stay true to himself. Hang on to his dignity. Proud of his manly strength. But the force of this flogger was taking its toll.

“So you’re saying ….?”The faces in front of him had taken on a blur. His eyes running in a smarting haze .. stinging with streaks of salty sweat. Countless vicious stingers burned into his tortured arse. The beatings had stopped. He would have called out in thanks. But his voice was tortured by a flood of gasping cries.

He hasn’t seen the priest raise his hand again. Calling for another pause. Envious, maddened with thirst, he watched the guard reach for a flagon of water. The flogger’s bare torso was glistening too .. evidence of the efforts he was putting in. He wasn’t going to get flogged himself for lack of trying. The flogger’s back too was running with sweat. But nothing like the way his victim felt. He panted like fury. He swished his head to the side .. trying to dispel the sweat trickling into his eyes.Morbidly .. his chest heaving hard and laboured .. curious he listened in to the priest’s question to the Prince. Perversely wondering what they had planned for him next.“That slave had been privileged .. the stonemason .. he let you down, ran away? So you destroyed those very assets that had earned him a privileged life?”

The priest had been scouring the runaway’s sweat-drenched front. Down over the muscle-hard chest. Resting a while on the chiselled rocks in his belly. And then .. worryingly .. his eyes lowered and stayed glowering at his manhood. He gave a shiver .. at the way those eyes rested there. On his “assets”. He could put one-and-one together. He swallowed. Not wanting to hear any more. Not wanting the priest to carry on.

The priest now turned his head to the Prince. They locked gazes.“You chopped them off.”The Prince now broke off his look with the Priest. His eyes too came to rest on the limp member .. snuggling in a nest of damp sweaty hair.

“It is an honour to serve your master. To serve in the temple even more so. Deserting the handmaidens is a heinous crime.”His face was grim.“Warrants more than just being thrown to the wolves.”