Final Retribution

Long, long ago in the near east….

I watched and listened from the balcony of my shop as the tribunal began the trial in the courtyard below. The defendant was Aden, a 16 year old vagabond boy that lived by his wits on the streets of the city. In the past I had given him food and water. In exchange Aden had occasionally stayed the night and had let me have my way with him. Once I had even offered him permanent lodging, but he refused, saying he was uncomfortable being indoors for any length of time. I think it had to do with the fire that destroyed his home and had taken the lives of his family.

Aden had been accused of sexual assault by a boy of 13. The younger boy, Ramos, said that the Aden had waited for him in an alley and had tried to rape him as he returned to his home for the evening meal. There was no question in my mind what the outcome of the trial would be. Ramos was from a wealthy and influential family. Actually, it was his mother that had the power and wealth, derived from her father. Ramos’ step-father was a rather meek and retiring sort, who could not or would not stand up to his shrewish wife. Ramos was also an habitual liar and troublemaker, especially for other boys or men for whom he developed a dislike, warranted or not. He knew he had power and abused the power regularly. In fact, Aden was not the first person to be punished for Ramos’ untruthfulness. Some weeks ago, Ramos had accused a young sailor of a similar crime. His fate was the same as I suspected would befall the 16 year old. On at least one occasion, Ramos, who knew of my fondness for boys, had even tried to seduce me. I was wary of his ways though and resisted the temptation. And it was a strong temptation, Ramos was a beautiful young man, light olive skin befitting his ethnic makeup with a slim, somewhat tall (for his age) body. I had on occasion seen him naked in the public baths and he was well endowed for a child of 13, with a substantial growth of light brown pubic hair around his genitals.

True to my predictions, the tribunal found Aden guilty. There would be no need for an appeal, for as soon as the verdict was announced, Aden, who had already been stripped of his clothing, except for a loin cloth, and bound to the cutting table, was summarily and publicly castrated. A gelding knife, wielded by one the city’s best cutter had quickly removed the Aden’s sac and balls. Then, a red hot iron was used to cauterize the wound.

Soon after the crowd dissipated. Aden’s restraints were removed, but he remained on the table, writhing in agony. I summoned my house boy Omar (a mixed breed Nubian/Egyptian boy of 15, who had lost all of his genitalia to a cutter at the age of 6) and together we managed to get Aden into the lower level of my shop (I am a trader in spices and salt).

While we were tending to the Aden’s wound, Ramos’ father entered my shop. Artis was a large rotund man of Greek ancestry. I have never understood how he became enamored of Ramos’ mother, a Roman woman. Artis and I have been friends for some time. His wife’s family in Italy are customers of mine. Artis came near and apologized to Aden for his step-son’s actions. Aden was nearly unconscious now and I don’t believe he heard the apology.

I left Omar to tend to Aden, and Artis and I drank wine and discussed business. During our talk, Artis said he wished he could make Ramos disappear. I asked if that wouldn’t upset his wife and he told me she was as disgusted with the boy as he, but Ramos was a favorite of her father, who lived with them, and she was afraid to upset the older man.

I was still upset about this latest episode. Aden had been a wonderful bed partner. He had always been kind and tender with Omar (I considered Omar to be my son). As we talked, Artis told me that he and his wife were taking a trip the next day to a city in the north. Ramos was to remain at home to tend to his grandfather’s growing needs, who although still politically powerful, was an invalid and unable to walk but short distances.

As we talked, I conceived a scheme to rid all of us of Ramos. When I told Artis he readily agreed, since, by being out of the city, neither he nor his wife could be blamed.

Artis and his wife left the next morning. Later, toward midday, as I knew he would, Ramos walked into the market to harass the various sellers. Often he would pilfer fruit or meats but for fear, no one complained to the tribunal.

He walked into my shop and demanded that I prepare him the narcotic opium tea to which he had become addicted. It was in my shop some time earlier that he had flirted with me, actually lowering the cotton trousers he wore and exposing his back side to me, in an attempt to weaken my defenses. This day though, acting polite and subservient, I handed him a cup of specially prepared tea. It took but a few moments for the added drug to make him drowsy. With the aid of Omar, we got him into a wagon and hid him amongst bales and sacks of spices and opium that I was to deliver to the nearest port city.

Leaving Omar in charge of the shop, I began the 2 day journey to the seaport where Ramos’ fate would be sealed. The drugs effect was beginning to diminish when I stopped for the night at a small inn owned by a friend. My friend, upon seeing Ramos, became excited. He told me that he had a young Greek slave girl who was beginning to bleed. He begged me to let her mount Ramos in the hopes of impregnating her with his Roman seed.

Now, the combination of opium and the sleep drug causes an interesting aphrodisiac effect. I had removed Ramos’ clothing and placed him naked on a straw mattress in our room for the night. As Ramos regained his senses, he developed a substantial erection. My friend brought his slave girl into the room. When she saw Ramos, she did not hesitate but immediately mounted the semi-conscious boy. The aphrodisiac maintained his erection while the girl had several orgasms. When the girl, finally weary after her sexual ordeal, dismounted, Ramos’ seed dribbled down her legs. A year later I would learn that Ramos had fathered a beautiful son through the slave girl. It would be his only progeny.

My friend and his girl departed. Ramos had turned over to sleep on his stomach; his olive colored buttocks an open invitation. I decided then to take advantage. Normally I prefer my young partner to be alert and aware so we can both enjoy pleasure. However, that night I removed my clothing and mounted Ramos from behind. His tiredness and drug induced state meant that he had little feeling as I penetrated his virgin garden.

Once finished, to prevent his escape, I secured an iron collar round his neck. I affixed the chain from the collar to a sturdy ring in the wall of the room. I could only surmise why the ring was in the wall.

I was awakened in the morning by the frantic efforts of Ramos trying to pull loose the restraints holding him prisoner. He was no longer naked, having found his trousers within his reach on the floor. When I awakened he began a vocal harangue, using words that embarrassed me. He threatened me with castration and slow death. Finally he quieted when he realized it was he that was the prisoner.

By evening we had made it to the port city. I drove directly to the wharf where my client’s schooner was tied off. The captain, another old friend, welcomed me with a chest crushing hug. When he saw Ramos, his eyes became wide. I told him the Ramos was a slave and that I was giving him as a gift to the captain. The captain was ecstatic.

As his crew loaded the spices and opium under the watchful eye of the second mate, the captain ordered the first mate to "peg" the boy, to ready him for the voyage.

After sharing a flagon of rum, the captain and I went to the bridge. In a corner of the bridge was a wooden platform, about waist high. The platform had a wooden backrest and a half-circle shaped shelf. Near the middle of the shelf was a wooden belaying pin (peg), perhaps half as long as my foot, and the diameter of my sex shaft at erection. It was tapered and rounded at the free end. The pin was covered with black grease.

Two sailors had hold of a naked Ramos. On the left side of the shelf, one sailor had his arms wrapped around Ramos’ chest, pinning the boy’s arms to his side. Ramos’ hands were manacled together behind his back, The other sailor, on the right side of the shelf, had arms wrapped around Ramos’ calves; the feet were manacled together. As the sailors moved Ramos near the seat, he struggled and fought like a wild animal. Ramos had seen the peg and knew what was about to happen.

His furious resistance was futile however. The sailor with Ramos’ chest maneuvered the boy so his butt hole was position directly over the peg. As the other sailor held the boy’s legs, the first sailor lowered Ramos toward the peg. The first mate then stepped forward, squatted in front of the shelf, and reached up to help guide the boy’s backside. The first mate adjusted Ramos’ position slightly and shouted NOW! The sailor on the right then lowered Ramos until the peg just penetrated the boy’s arse. The mate then put his hands around the boy’s thighs and pushed roughly downward. The scream emitted by Ramos caused people on the wharf to look toward the schooner. Now fully impaled on the peg, Ramos was moaning and crying. The sailors quickly rotated Ramos on the peg, until his feet hung over the rounded front of the shelf. They then chained the boy’s manacled hands to a ring in the shelf behind him. There were three cutout notches in the front of the shelf. The mate spread the boy’s legs apart, until each leg fit into one of the notches. Ramos was in greater discomfort now, since his feet were still bound together.

The third notch was rectangular in shape. The cut started at the round front edge of the shelf and continued straight back until it was about two fingers width from the peg. The shelf was no thicker than my finger was round. At the back of the notch an iron plate was mounted. The plate had a thin groove that ran horizontally across its width. Each side of the notch had a thin groove that went from front to back, about the middle of the shelf’s thickness. After Ramos had been rotated, his ball sac hanged downward into the notch.

Once Ramos was secured, the captain turned to me.

"You said the boy was mine to keep, did you not"?

"Yes captain, do with him what you will".

"He seems high spirited. Too bad for him though. I don’t need a boy with spirit. Oh, some is all right. Its good when a boy puts up some fight as he gets buggered. But I’m afraid this boy will get into mischief and I can’t afford to watch him continually."

The captain signaled the first mate who went to his cabin and returned with what looked like a hull scraper knife. It was a piece of iron rod, the forward edge of which had been flattened and then honed to a fine cutting edge. The flattened edge was as wide as three fingers. The flattened portion tapered back toward the round portion of the rod. When used as a scraper, a sailor would hold the rod in his hand and use the honed edge to scrape away rust or barnacles or mildew.

The mate also carried a length of leather cord. He cut off a piece of the cord. One of the other sailors reached beneath Ramos and roughly pulled his ball sac downward. Ramos let out another grasp then a cry of agony as the sailor squeezed his ball sac. As soon as there was room, the mate tied the cord tightly around the boy’s scrotum just above the top surface of the shelf. A second cord was looped around the scrotum just above the testicles that were still being pulled downward. The free end of the loop was routed through a small hole in part of the seat’s frame below where the boy sat. Ramos again screamed as his ball sac was distended even further. The leather loop was cutting into the tops of his rapidly discoloring testicles.

Now that the boy was ready, the mate fitted the edges of the flattened scraper tool’s into the side grooves. He then pushed the scraper’s knife edge until it rested against the boy’s ball sac, between the leather cords.

A glance from the mate told the captain that Ramos was ready. The captain picked up a wooden mallet normally used to strike the belaying pin. He then handed the mallet to me and told me to strike the round rod end of the scraper. He suggested I hit it hard to ensure a quick single cut.

With some trepidation, that was mixed with a feeling of perverse pleasure, I struck the end of the rod as hard as I could. As the scraper moved under the impact, the honed edge sliced through the skin of Ramos’ sac, severing flesh and tubes, and lodged into the grooved iron backplate. The severed sac with balls landed on the deck with a muffled plop. The captain reached down, cut loose the retaining leather cord, picked up the discolored glob of flesh, and dropped them into a wooden bucket filled with brine.

The first mate in the meantime, picked up an iron rod that had been heated until the end glowed red, and touched the tip to the cleanly cut flap of skin remaining below the boy. Ramos was silent, having passed out when I hit the rod. The stench of burning flesh filled my nostrils. The wound was cauterized successfully. No further blood flowed from the severed veins.

The captain, mate and I retired to the captains quarters for more rum. He told me that the boy would be healed well enough within a few days, and then he would be given to the pleasure of the crew. The captain told me that they had several other slave boys chained below deck to satisfy the crew on the long voyage to Britain.

I asked what would become of Ramos after that. He told me that usually after the boy’s arse had been used for a few weeks, his sphincter would become so loose that he wouldn’t be able to control his bowel movements. The captain said that when that happened they would slit the boy’s throat and feed him to the fishes. "We usually don’t have any peg boys on board when we arrive at port", he concluded.

As I departed to return to Omar and my shop, the captain gave me a small glass container, filled with brine and Ramos’ genitals.

When I finally arrived home, Omar rushed to me for a long long hug. He then removed his clothing and dropped to his back on the floor, feet pulled back, wanting me to take him, which I did. Later, I asked about Aden and Omar told me he was recovering, at least physically. He told me that Aden was quite morose and sullen. I reminded Omar that was how he was after his cutting some 10 years ago, but how, with love and care, he had responded and become the perfect lover. Omar just flashed his wondrous smile at me.

A few days later, Artis returned. He told me (while grinning) that he had sad news. First, his step-son Ramos had apparently disappeared. Second, his wife’s tyrannical father had died during their trip, apparently of heart failure from over-exertion since no-one was there to help him walk. I had Omar cook Artis and me a special meal that night. I told Omar to use whatever spices and herbs he wanted to flavor the lamb. He apparently mistook the contents of the new glass container on the spice shelf as a type of sea food and thought it would be a nice first course to have grilled kabobs.

…………….