The Two Hundredth and Eighty Second of One Thousand and One Nights – by Amalaric

[Click image to enlarge.]

He received the summons just after the sixth hour, sweating profusely under the hot southern sun, as he wielded wedge and mallet in the master’s stone quarry. There would be several more hours, punctuated by short breaks for rest and sustenance, of that sort of labor…but the summons portended something more and was always a dreaded occurrence.

Weary and wary in equal measure the young slave washed the sweat and stone dust from his muscular body. Dressed in the scantiest of loincloths, he then completed his attire with the snick of a sturdy manacle on each of his wrists.

He entered the dimly lit chamber, weighed down with apprehension, and approached the single standing column with its embedded iron ring and chain. The master would arrive shortly and the buck’s evening ordeal would then commence; he had been summoned for night duty…


3 thoughts on “The Two Hundredth and Eighty Second of One Thousand and One Nights – by Amalaric

  1. Night duty. It has such a delightful connotation. At dawn, he will hang, limp and exhausted, in his bondage his body showing the loving marks of his master’s sadistic lust. Always a pleasure viewing your renders.

  2. Yeah, I have to go along with Justin and Hamilton here. The hair accentuates his manliness and the reality that he doesn’t want this. He wants to be free to have a wife and kids (or maybe just use his looks to bed a series of women at his leisure). And no doubt the signs of his treatment the preceding night will be visible to his co-workers.
    One thing that fascinates and hardens me is the nature of the summons he received. Is it given to him quietly by the foreman or perhaps by a messenger of the master? Is it such a matter of course that the foreman or a messenger simply casually informs him of when he is to report, with no regard one way or the other as to whether any other slaves hear it? Or is the master’s control so complete that he takes delight in the crushing humiliation of having the foreman or a messenger proclaim the summons in the full hearing of every slave so that everyone knows what the unlucky buck will be forced to endure a few hours hence?
    I kinda like the final option. The sinking feeling of dread as each of the most handsome slaves awaits the announcement of exactly which of them will be forced into sexual and other servitude that night by their cruel master. The pitying looks from the finally named victim’s friends, the grins of supreme satisfaction on the faces of his enemies, coupled with their vigorous taunting strongly encouraged by the master and his messenger to amplify the chosen slave’s indignity. The further jeers of his adversaries who intimate in no uncertain language that he must like a night with the master, explicitly hypothesizing about what he is likely to be subjected to. Getting up in his face to laugh as he slowly, so slowly has to trudge toward his night of shame, pain and inside-out subjugation, knowing he dare not lash out at them because the master takes pleasure in chosen slaves’ frustration and mortification in front of their peers and forbids them, on pain of daily naked outdoor whippings for a month, to even verbally respond to their mockers, let alone slug them.
    And … oh wait. DAMN! I just looked more closely at the photo. FUCK! That loin cloth/sash actually leaves the root of his penis and the base of his testicles visible! That cannot have been an accident. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Sorry, that’s just hot and funny. To us, I mean not to him. Sucks to be him right now on so many levels. LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

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