The Telemachus Story Archive

Soldiering On
Chapter 9 - Nonus
By Anddrew Greggory

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Two men peeked over the edge of the wall, and looked down on the men grouped around the table. Boisterous for the early hour, they laughed and goaded one another with rude names and accusations. They were all naked. Before them on the table sat twelve phials in an ivory rack.

“Citizens, do you duty!” The words came from an unseen source, lightly tinged with Greek. At once, the horse play stopped, and the men each took a phial. Some of them stood where they were. Some moved back against the walls of the room. Some turned and leaned against the table. All began to manipulate their flaccid or semi-flaccid penises.

“Do they all ‘work’ in silence” asked the younger of the observers.

“Sometimes, but usually….”

The speaker was interrupted by the sounds of a rude drinking song coming from the floor below. One of the men began to sing, in a deep baritone. He was answered at the chorus by several other men. For several minutes the tension, the song, and the pounding of genitals swelled and mounted.

“Here we go…”

“Ahg! First and best!” One of the men positioned the tip of his prick against the mouth of the phial, and squirted semen into it. He was followed by another. Another minute or so and there were several more.

Finally, two men, the tall blond German and a short man, the only one in the group with his foreskin clipped away, were the left. The others began to cheer and jeer at them.

“Lenculus! Come on! Show this trans-Rhine swine, or Thrysis will bite your ass!”

“Leave me alone, Manuus, you speckled freak!”

The German stopped momentarily, and repositioned his feet. He picked up the phial, and began to stroke again, just as Lenculus yelled and pumped four or five bolts of white fluid into the phial in his left hand.

Seeing that, the German came at once, copiously, almost filling his phial, easily the largest deposit of the group.

“Last again, Barbarian!” shouted a thin, but muscled man with a red tinge to his hair. “Up against the pillar.”

“Let’s go, Alabanas! I’m first!” said a Franconis, who had been the first to come.

“You’re always first, you useless Gaul. And your wife laments it to me every night!” Alabanas spoke as he walked up to the pillar and grabbed hold of the leather loops just above his head. His legs spread wide into the stirrups on either side of the pillar, he said “Go ahead bastards. We Germans can take anything you can dish out.”

The men laughed and jested, as one by one, the approached, took the whip, and delivered three strokes across the upturned globes of the giant willingly positioned before them.

The watching men were standing now, easily visible to the men below, had any of them cared to turn and look up, which none did. Tully slid his hand under his tunic and gently massaged his own member, gently but firmly. Philodorus did not notice Tully’s movement, taken as he was with what he watched. Unconsciously, he breathed in time to the blows reddening the German’s posterior.

The German arched his back.

Philodorus craned his neck.

Tully stroked his meat.

The last of them men delivered his strokes and left.

Alabanas rubbed his rump, soothing and enjoying the pain.

Tully bathed the wall before him in thick cream.

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