How a Boy Survives in Athens Among the Spartans

In the day, they trained. They trained for hours, never ending; block and parry, doge and thrust, back again. From sunrise to sunset there was only heat, the clash of metal, and the grunting of men. I was never able to join in, of course, I wasn't one of them. They gave me some training, sure, I could fire a bow alright, I could use a spear and a sword, but wars weren't won just with these; besides, my job was to be fast, and I was. No, I wasn't a fighter, I was a runner. So, as the men trained, naked bodies gleaming in the Aegean sun, I took a short break and sat on a nearby hill, taking them in. As I watched them train I couldn't help but be a little jealous; I could never be one of them, never move or fight like them. They had started at birth, and they were the best. They were the Spartans.

How I had come to be there still baffles me to this day. My family had died when I was very young, and a boy in Athens doesn't get very far, unfortunately, unless he's willing to do some things to get by. Usually, those things involved sex. It wasn't bad really, I even began to enjoy it after a while, the men at the bathhouses were always well mannered, and usually they gave me something beforehand-money or some other gift-so I was willing to give them a hand...or mouth. Regardless, I never went very far with any of them-never even finished one of them off with my mouth, though they said I was good enough to. No, until the men from Sparta came, I was still a virgin.

They were huge, taller-at least a head if not more-than anyone I had ever known, and infinitely more muscular. They demanded utter respect. Sparta and Athens had never had the greatest relationship, even I as a boy knew that, the men of Sparta knew only war and were completely uncivilized. For the majority of their stay in the city they wore nothing but their red cloaks, helmets, and some kind of loin garment (if that!). I never did find out why they were there that day-some kind of political business about the Persians-but I am grateful.

They were welcomed to stay in the city, so, as a treat to the men, the hoplite leader allowed them to take a day off, relax in the spas. Nearly 100 Spartans spread out across the city, with one full regiment ending up at my little home (I had taken to living in a small room in the bathhouse). It was a hassle taking care of them all-there were only about a dozen of them, but all of them needed-demanded-assistance from the bath boys. That's where I met Damon; he was the leader of that group.

Damon was a god of men; six feet tall, if not more, and he had more than enough muscle to fill out his form. His tightly cropped brown hair and hairy form only served to increase his masculinity. Naturally, being a boy of my...repute, I took note of his (and the other Spartan's) large member and sac, but I'd learned long ago to wait until they ask-some preferred the women-so I held back from doing anything. The bathmaster had me tend to Damon and his command and I did my duties; washed, oiled, fed, anything they needed, but they never asked me to anything that most people did. They just smiled and thanked me for my help, which surprised me.

As I went about my tasks I did take note of a few of the hoplites kissing and holding one another in the waters or steam room, but none of them ever took any of the bath boys, which surprised me even more, I figured at least one or two of these warriors would enjoy the pleasure of a young boy-but they stuck to themselves. They came only the one day, but they could be seen moving about the city for the remainder of the week. I was happy to find out that Damon and his regiment was positioned near me, so I got to see them frequently. It was odd, honestly, I had never had a connection towards the people that I worked for-with-whatever you could say. But theses Spartans...I liked them.

There was something about them; not only were they gorgeous, but they were strong, and not just in the physical sense. Something about their discipline, loyalty, and honor appealed to me; it just wasn't something you got in Athens, and most certainly not in my position. The longer they stayed, the more fascinated-infatuated-I became with them so much so that, on the day they were to leave, I did something I still can't believe I did.

I stowed away in a wagon. I left with them.

"Well-what do we have here?"

My head jerked up quickly at the voice and I glanced around. I had fallen asleep at some point during the journey, I couldn't have been out too long-a large hand grabbed me by the arm and yanked me out of the wagon, tossing me effortlessly to the ground. I coughed and looked around, bewildered, until I finally caught the gaze of a Titan. I paused, mouth moving slightly. No, not a Titan: a Spartan. His helmet blocked his features, so I had no idea who he was (not that I'd have much of an idea regardless), and the torch he held cast a dim glow on the surrounding area. The army had stopped, I could see a large bonfire burning nearby, and a little way down the line of wagons another, and a few more father than that, but what I was concerned with was what was around me.

The Spartan who pulled me out was looming over me and so were three others. Two of them were nude except for their red cloaks (I guess they had come from the bonfire, a quick glance told me there were about ten-or-so more idly watching this little scene) and were grinning slyly down at me, arms folded.

The one who pulled me out spoke again, "A little rat in the food cart, eh?" He took a step forward, grabbing me by the shirt collar. I'm sure I said something, but I'll be damned if I could tell what it was; at that moment the shadowed opening for his eyes was the scariest thing I had ever seen. I tried to squirm and he threw me back to the ground, standing straight again. He made a grunting noise and looked around at the others, "We should probably kill him."

I only whimpered.

The other armored Spartan took a step forward and griped me by the chin, turning my face towards his. His eyes were narrowed behind his helm, studying, and the others fell curiously silent. "Actually, I think I know him." He said. I licked my lips nervously and looked at him quickly, he did look familiar, but I couldn't put a name to the rugged face.

The one who pulled me out of the cart kneeled down near me, "You think so, Argus," he paused, "from where?"

Argus turned my head from side to side, "Back in Athens...yes...I'm sure of it," He stood and folded his arms again, "he was the boy that served us in the bathhouse."

"You'd remember a single boy?"

"Aye," Argus nodded, "he worked specifically with Damon and his command, Ajax."

The Spartan, Ajax, stood and chuckled, "Well, it doesn't really matter; he still needs to be punished."

"Thrashing?" One of the other two Spartans chimed in.

I felt myself begging to curl up, and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes; what had I done? Why in the name of Apollo did I do this? What was I thinking?! I was about to break down when I felt wool drape over my shoulders and a large, muscular arm wrap around me. I picked up my head and stared into the face of the Spartan named Ajax. He smirked at me and pushed me onto my back, leaning down to whisper in my ear-but loud enough that the others could hear: "No-that seems a bit too easy," he grinned up at Argus and gestured with his head down at me.

Argus sneered back knowingly and signaled for the two nude Spartans to follow him back to the bonfire. They didn't protest.

I stared up at Ajax and furrowed my brow in confusion. I spoke softly, not wanting to risk upsetting him any more than he already was, "Y-you...what are you going to do to me?" I held back a whimper, "please-I didn't mean to cause any harm, I didn't steal any--" He cut me off with a thumb to my lips, the rest of his hand cradling my head.

"Quiet, boy," He sneered and reached down with his other hand to unclasp something that I couldn't see-I thought it was a knife, "that was some gutsy move, stowing away like that." I heard something flop to the ground and I blinked with the realization that it was his leather skirt. I glanced around nervously and tried to squirm away but was shoved back down by a firm hand, "No, boy," he said roughly, putting his helmet aside with a free hand, "You want to travel with the men? Then you'll learn to be one."

My eyes widened and I gripped the cold dirt beneath me-I could feel tears welling up again, "Please," I begged, "I didn't mean to cause any harm."

Ajax looked at me quizzically and snickered, pulling my forehead up to touch his own as he wrapped my legs around his bare waist, "I'm sure you didn't," He slid his head around and touched my ear with his rough, wind-chapped lips, "But that doesn't really matter now, does it?"

Before I could protest I felt my thin pants being pulled to my knees and something firm and wet pressing under my sac, "Oh Gods," I whimpered, closing my eyes tight as he breathed heavily into my ear, "please... please don't hurt me."

I felt it press at my hole, and I gripped the sand beneath my fingers tighter. He chuckled into my ear and licked it lustfully, "We'll see." And he pushed.

I cried out in pain, and arched my back as I felt him sink in inch after painful inch. I could hear him breathing in short grunts as he pushed in, whispering things like: "Take it my little stowaway," and, "By the Gods-you're so tight." He pushed in until he was hilted inside me, and already he was sweating as much as I was. By the grace of some god he gave me a moment's reprieve and I panted heavily against the cold earth. Dimly I was becoming aware of onlookers from the fire, I opened my eyes as best I could to see, but my head was pounding too badly. All I caught was nude figures watching, commenting, and pointing, along with the orange-red glow from the fire.

I lurched and moaned as Ajax pulled nearly all the way out and slammed back in. Whether he took the moan as a sign of pleasure or not is lost to me, but he did mumble a, "You're loving this aren't you," he pulled out and shoved back in again, eliciting another cry, "my little whore?"

No! I cried out in my head, I've never done this before; I didn't want it this way! It didn't matter though-I was going to get it this way. So I did. I closed my eyes tight and bit my lip so hard it drew a drop of blood as he shoved in and out of me rhythmically. I could feel every inch of his cock, and I could feel his sweaty body pressed against mine. He grunted and moaned roughly into my ear with each thrust, steadily moving faster and faster. I could hear others beginning to yell things at him, egging him on, but I couldn't make out exactly what they were saying.

He continued roughly for a long time, occasionally I would blank out for a second, but I was always brought back with the feeling of him pounding into some place deep inside me. In spite of myself, I became erect, and he began to grind his firm, slightly hairy stomach onto me with each thrust (apparently, all of them didn't shave completely-something I hadn't known). Finally, after what seemed like hours, he hilted himself in me one last time, causing me to cry out again, which only serving to increase his pleasure, and deep inside me he twitched and came, shot after shot filling me to the rim and the pressure causing me to grip onto the earth again. When he came he growled and cried out like an animal, pulling my hips flush with his own and turning his head to the sky.

He waited a moment, and though my eyes were closed I could feel him looking down at me. Then, without so much as a word, he pulled himself out, spilling his seed onto the sand, and walked away. I lay there silently, my vision blurred and dark as I stared at the flickering flame. I watched Ajax walk back to the others who congratulated him, patted him on the back, one even got on his knees to clean him, and while I was erect enough that I could have finished myself, I had no will to do so.

I pressed my cheek to the cold clay and sand and let my legs stretch out, leaving me on my back, pant-less and shamed. I took a few small breaths, turning my head to stare at the sky, and with a small prayer to Apollo that I might live the night, faded into unconsciousness.

I woke up to the sound of flapping canvas and a foot toeing at my ribs. I blinked groggily and adjusted my eyes to the red tent above me.

"Boy."

I blinked again and turned my head to the entrance of the tent, where a large armored Spartan stood covered in a red cloak. He nodded sternly to me and gestured outside, "Come, you start training."

I shook my head in confusion and crawled out of the tent, nude, ducking under his arm as I went. Outside the hot sun baked the rocky foothills and hard clay, but still the Spartans trained vigorously and without pause to the heat. The Spartan next to me signaled to someone and left for another task, the one who approached I immediately recognized as Damon.

He strode up to me, nude save for his cloak, as impressive and beautiful as the first time I saw him. He stopped in front of me and looked down at me in disgust, "What is your name, boy?"

I blinked up at him, wetting my lips nervously before I spoke, "Deo, sir, son of-"

He slapped me hard across the face, and, after placing my hand over the mark, I looked at him with a pitiful questioning face. He sneered and folded his arms across his broad chest, speaking calmly, "Your name means 'god' does it not? Your father must have had high expectations of you. You're name is now Colin, for it means youth, and that is what you are. We shall see if you can live up to your namesake."

I gulped and nodded, turning my eyes away. He hit me again.

"Your first lesson!" he yelled, "You will look your commander in the eyes when he speaks to you!"

I looked at him quickly and nodded, keeping my hands at my sides for fear that if I touched my face he would strike me again. He seemed to accept this and nodded, "You're going to be our runner, do you understand? If you're going to stay here, you're going to work. It's that simple."

I nodded slowly as the information dawned on me: they were going to let me stay. They were going to let me work, and most importantly, they weren't going to kill me.

"Good. Head over there to Adrastos, he'll begin your training," As he turned to walk back to his men, he stopped, and glanced back over your shoulder, "You held up well to Ajax last night, Colin, at least you handled it to the end." And he left.

I thought about getting some clothing, but after seeing a few more Spartans training in the nude, I decided to forgo the cumbersome cloth and approached Adrastos naked. He was a huge, bear of a man, stocky and looked a little bit pudgy-but every ounce of him was muscle. His brown hair was cut to his head, nearly making him bald, and he had a rough, unshaven face. He turned and looked down at me as I approached.

"Name," he said, signaling for the other two runners who were exercising nearby to stop.

"D...Colin, sir." I nodded, feeling my new name on my tongue, "My name is Colin."

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written by patrickthececil