by Peter Hughes
It was the heat of early summer, about a month after I was sent to live with my lord Ricq al-Cricq as his personal servant and footman.
The young slave boys from Greece and Troy sat half-naked on the rim of the fountain in my lord’s garden, splashing their smooth, muscular legs in the cool water. I was giving my lord Ricq his afternoon feet massage with aloe and myrrh as he watched the youths at play in his courtyard.
He smiled at me, as he lay on his chaise lounge in the cool shade of the vine trellis by the courtyard. “Are you happy, my young Roman soldier?” he asked tenderly.
“Of course, my lord Ricq,” I replied with a smile of my own. “I love being here with you and enjoying your company, and especially taking care of your masterful feet.”
He sighed quietly as my strong fingers found the ridge under his right sole that he considered ticklish. I stroked his beautiful foot quickly just to hear his hearty laugh.
“Ah, Pietro,” he chortled, his toes wiggling in the slight breeze. “You are certainly a man among men. And you do everything exactly the way I want, whether it is drawing my bath, worshiping my body or even pleasuring yourself with the slaves at my direction. I enjoy your company, too. I am very pleased with you.”
I smiled and pretended to concentrate on his feet. I gave each of the tops of his smooth toes a kiss, to show my appreciation for his care and thoughtfulness.
“You deserve a reward,” my lord continued. “Why don’t we go to Tyre tomorrow and enjoy ourselves for a week or so? The weather will be pleasing for us.”
“I would enjoy nothing more,” I replied. “You are so good to me, my lord.”
The next day, the servants packed our belongings and sent them ahead via caravan to Tyre, the most beautiful seaside city in Mesopotamia. It was near the city of Jaffa, along the coast of the blue water my ancestors called Mediterranean. My lord and I relaxed in his palanquin as our fine Arabian horses made their way through many hours’ journey to this balmy city by the sea.
Our palanquin was cozy in the warmth of early summer. A good breeze filtered through the canopied litter. The palanquin had high walls that allowed us to travel without being seen by thieves or the common people. The inside was as ornate as my lord’s palace in Susa.
My lord Ricq relaxed on his thick cushioned couch inside the litter clad in a light lounging robe. Sitting cross-legged against his left side and wearing my own short robe, I traced my hand along his leg where his hairy manliness met the clinging fabric. The wonderful feel of silk, with nothing underneath.
He smiled at me. “Your touch is pleasing, Pietro.”
“Your body is so beautiful, my lord,” I replied. “It is indeed a pleasure to touch.”
“Then please, have your way with my feet,” my lord said. “Touch my feet.”
I moved to the end of the divan, where my lord Ricq’s masterful feet lay encased in their soft leather sandals. Gently, I removed first his left slipper, then his right one. Slowly, I began stroking his soft, tender soles with my forefinger. My lord flexed and wiggled his long, round toes to excite me. I smiled and buried my nose in his feet.
“My feet need some attention on this long journey,” he murmured, crossing his hairy ankles and brushing his soles dryly against each other. My lord’s feet were soft and warm, without a hint of perspiration or order. My daily regimen of orange blossom water and aloe extracts was making his feet feel like a young man’s. “Why don’t we both get comfortable and you can work your magic on them, my young Pietro.”
My lord Ricq didn’t need to say more. I untied my robe and removed my loincloth and sandals. He in turn undid his belt on his robe with a graceful elegance and let the silk rustle slowly to the floor of the palanquin. He patted his soft belly with the flats of his hands. His member grew firmer as I leaned naked over his feet and began to worship them, with fingers and lips and tongue.
“Oh, beautiful Pietro,” my lord cooed. “That’s it. Climb on top of me and feast upon my masterful feet and toes.”
“Most willingly, my lord,” I answered. I straddled his waist with my legs and bent over to swipe my tongue from his instep to his twitching toes. My lord sat up and I moaned with pleasure as his warm tongue found my soft hairless hole. It felt wonderful to have my lord’s hot mouth on my pleasure spot, with the small bristles of his chin hairs tickling the inside of my groin. I felt my own member growing and swaying against his soft chest. He took my long phallus in his soft, firm hand and began gently stroking it.
“Umm, my lord,” I said through a mouthful of toes. “Please, my most benevolent and kind lord, let me pleasure you as you are pleasuring me. I beg of you, mount me without hesitation and I will do so willingly. Please, please get on top of me.”
My lord Ricq laughed softly. “You have no need to beg, my dear boy,” he said kindly. “You are my gift from Mithra, the goddess of divinity. Of course I will do as you ask.”
With that, my Persian lord released me from his grasp and bade me to lie down on his soft couch. He climbed on top of me, his soft furry belly sliding against my smooth muscular chest. Taking my phallus into his hot mouth, he began softly sliding his tongue up and down the quivering flesh in a manner worthy of Cupid, the Roman god of love. Meanwhile, I busily buried my own tongue into his smooth anal opening, darting it this way and that until moans of pleasure escaped my lord’s throat.
My lord Ricq’s beautiful feet straddled my face, and they softly pressed against each of my sweat-stained cheeks. As I furiously lapped at his opening, my lord flexed his soft and fragrant feet, the soles crinkling invitingly. I swerved my attention from his hole and began devouring first his left foot, then his right one. He continued to lick my shaft as I hungrily nibbled on his masterful feet and kissed his toes.
Shortly thereafter, my phallus erupted and my lord continued to eat at it until it was licked clean. He then stroked himself and spurted his seed all over my chest. He licked that up as well and we lay contented in each other’s arms as we wended our way to Tyre by the sea.
We arrived at the seashore a few hours before dusk. My lord Ricq had directed the porters to transport our palanquin to a hydro-spa owned by Neshi, a young Egyptian friend of his. I glanced at the building after our palanquin had stopped. It was a lovely whitewashed stucco building with curved roof and latticed harem windows. Palm trees grew all around the building, giving it the aura of an oasis in the hot desert by the sea.
Neshi welcomed us with open arms and kissed us gently. He beckoned us into a beautiful marble-floored chamber with a pool-like bath and a large bed covered with sheer netting to keep the night bugs away.
“I trust you will enjoy the accommodations, my lord,” Neshi said in clear though accented Persian. “We offer a ball-court, massage, sulfur baths, whirlpool and steam-operated bathhouse. You need do nothing except relax and let us pamper you and your beautiful manservant.”
“Thank you, Neshi,” my lord Ricq answered formally. “We appreciate your hospitality.”
Neshi bade us farewell and left us to relax in the warmth of the setting sun.
The next morning, we awoke to a beautiful sunrise and Neshi’s morning meal. My lord Ricq wanted to walk to the nearby beach and take in the surf and sunshine. “I can feel my body relaxing right now in that beautiful water,” he sighed to me as we feasted in bed. I gave my lord a goblet of pomegranate juice and some of the local cheese and fruit.
“That would be wonderful, my beautiful lord,” I answered. “And perhaps this afternoon we could relax in the spa?”
My lord Ricq chuckled as he stroked my face. “Anything you wish, dear Pietro.”
The visit to the sea was blissful. We walked half-naked into the blue-green water and let the surf swirl around us as we relaxed in the warmth of the late morning. My lord went out further into the ocean, took a deep breath and dove into a wave. I followed him, not wanting him to get hurt or sick. Together, we swam below the surface and our bodies bobbed against each other like two dolphins at play. We both surfaced and embraced each other in the blood-warm Mediterranean.
We returned to the inn for our midday meal. Neshi had prepared a feast for us: roasted lamb with sauce, wheat bread and a fragrant wine. We ate peacefully and upon finishing, we washed our faces with fragrant orange blossom water and dried ourselves on a fluffy white towel. As the day was hot and the sun high overhead, we settled down for our afternoon nap.
“How are you doing, my young Roman god?” my lord Ricq asked me gently.
“I am in heaven,” I answered dreamily. “The only thing missing is having your masterful feet in my face.”
My lord smiled. “That can easily be arranged,” he said soothingly.
I stretched out on my full stomach on our beautiful bed, my master’s luscious feet to my right, mine to his left. Lazily, I began stroking the hairy tops of his feet; dragging my fingers up to his toes and letting them ease down his sole and instep. My lord Ricq took his left hand and massaged my right foot from heel to toe. I shifted on my side, as my lord did as well, and soon we were both rubbing and licking each other’s feet until we fell into an exhausted sleep.
After waking up refreshed, we decided to visit the gymnasium and spa as Neshi had recommended. My master and I immersed ourselves into the swirling waters of the bath, inhaled the vapors of the heated room, and let ourselves be pampered by an expert Greek masseur whose fingers could only be compared to those of the gods themselves.
As I lay relaxed and contented on a small divan while my master received his body massage, I gazed at the naked men all around me. There were Greeks, Trojans, Egyptians, Phoenicians and even a few of my fellow Romans as well. Then a sight caught my eye so breathtaking that I had to blink just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming!
A tall, gorgeous man sauntered across the floor of the gymnasium from the steam room. Unlike the diminutive, dark-haired people that I was used to seeing, he had curly hair the color of fine wheat, a massive build and was as tall as a cypress tree. His body was smooth, firm and unmarked. I had never seen a man like him before in my life. He looked like the statue of Apollo come to life from the Coliseum.
My lord finished his massage and came to join me on my divan. He noticed my stare. “What are you looking at, Pietro?” he asked.
“That man,” I breathed. “Is he indeed a man, or a god from Olympus?”
My lord Ricq laughed his hearty laugh. “He is indeed a man,” he chuckled. “But one would consider him godlike as well. He is a Celt; a race of men from the far side of the world, beyond the Encircling Ocean in a land called Eire. Does he fascinate you?”
“Yes, my lord,” I whispered. “Please forgive me.”
My lord smiled benignly. “You have no need to feel ashamed,” he said softly, comforting me in his arms. “I know that you are true to me. But you would really like to play with his body, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then we shall arrange it, you and I. For I also am fascinated by this Celt, and you will help me indulge in this pleasure as well.”
My initial excitement dissipated somehow. I felt that my lord wanted to replace me with that tall, blond handsome man.
My lord Ricq sensed my ebb of emotion. He held me tightly in the gymnasium and whispered: “I will never forsake you, Pietro. You are mine, and will be mine, forever.”
I felt better after that. My interest in the tall Celt aroused again, and I sought to lure him over to our side in order that we might achieve pleasure with him.
I had already noticed that the man was eyeing me as a hungry wolf would a lamb. He had entered the swirling waters of the whirlpool and sat down, his piercing green eyes staring at me, penetrating my very soul. I felt myself drawn to his exotic power.
Purposefully, I strode across the marble floor of the gymnasium with my eyes firmly on the target, smiling in a seductive way that had served me well in the past. (My lord Ricq told me later that I had turned every head in the room as I walked towards the pool: “Every man wanted to be your captive,” he had joked. “They envied your prey.”)
The tall blond Celt’s gaze was equally firm back at me.
I calmly stepped into the whirlpool and sat opposite the foreigner. I kept my gaze steady and my face relaxed.
The man inhaled deeply and crinkled his eyes. I silently counted to ten, inclined my head and gave him one of my best smiles. He smiled hesitantly in return.
“Do you speak Latin?” I asked in that language.
“Little,” he said with an embarrassed smile. “Little Latin, some Greek.”
I deliberately kept my language simple. “I am Pietro,” I said as I pointed to myself.
“I am Lagan,” he responded in heavily accented Latin. “Pleasure.”
“I hope so,” I said jokingly.
“Please?”
I laughed. “Sorry. Bad joke,” I explained.
Lagan laughed also. “Oh, I see,” he said.
His laugh was warm and genuine. I smiled broadly back at him and stretched my legs out in the warm swirling waters. “Good, no?” I asked. “Feels good.”
“Yes, good.” Lagan repeated softly. He sank a bit lower on his side of the pool.
Immediately, my left foot found his right one under the water. I was rather surprised at how big his foot seemed; I traced the perimeter of his arch with my toes and it seemed like it was quite a distance from toes to heel.
Lagan must have liked what I was doing, because he brought his other foot over and slid it next to mine, so that my left foot was between his two massive feet. I hitched in my breath and felt myself becoming stirred by his feet. When he began to rub them together over my foot, I could feel my breath get harder and my heart thudding with sheer pleasure.
“Good?” Lagan asked with a sly grin.
“Very good!” I exclaimed. “Nice feet.”
“Thank you. Your feet…nice also.”
I moved my right foot next to his two large feet and began rubbing his as he did with mine. I saw Lagan’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he muttered something in a guttural tongue, which I took to mean something good in his native language.
We were both perspiring from both the water temperature and our own pleasures.
My lord Ricq strode over to the pool. He saw the intense pleasure on my face and his smile got bigger. “Who is your friend, Pietro?” he asked.
I introduced Lagan and the two men chatted briefly in Latin. I saw something pass between their eyes. Then my lord turned to me and said quietly in Persian (our secret language): “He is as you described him…let us take him back to our room, and satisfy our lustful urges.”
I turned to Lagan. “My master would like for us to join him in his room,” I said in Latin, deliberately keeping my language simple.
“With pleasure,” Lagan replied. We got out of the warm swirling waters, dried ourselves and followed my lord Ricq to our sumptuous suite in the hydro-spa.
My lord strode into the room and beckoned us inside. The late afternoon sun seeped through the latticed harem windows, giving off a gentle glow that illuminated the room. My lord Ricq stretched out on the bed, his legs spread beneath his cotton robe and his sandaled feet flexed upwards.
“Pietro…Lagan,” he said softly. “Pleasure my feet, please.”
I moved to my lord Ricq’s right foot, and gestured to Lagan to occupy himself with my master’s left one. My master wore soft leather thongs with no heel strap; they were easy to slide off his smooth feet without wasting any time with buckles or clamps.
Almost simultaneously, Lagan and I slid my master’s thongs off of his feet and laid them next to the bed. My lord Ricq’s toes flexed and wiggled, as if to beckon us to come satisfy our urges with them. He undid the sash on his robe and opened it.
As I bent over to caress and sniff my lord Ricq’s right foot, I noticed that Lagan was gazing at my lord’s left foot, as if he had stumbled upon some missing treasure trove. Almost reverently he caressed my lord’s foot, pausing to inhale the musky odor of his sole and toes. My lord Ricq flexed and wiggled his toes in front of Lagan’s face, as if to encourage him to explore to his heart’s content.
Lagan immediately removed his cotton robe and lay down on the large bed with his face in my lord Ricq’s foot. I followed his example on my side of the bed. My master had already removed his own robe, so we were three naked men admiring each other’s feet.
Lagan and I flanked my master’s body, each of us pressing our fingers and faces into his masterful feet. My lord Ricq was alternating between my feet on one side of his head and Lagan’s large, beautiful feet on the other side. He licked and massaged my feet, kissed them and then turned his attention to Lagan’s Celtic feet. From the enthusiastic sounds emanating from Lagan’s side of the large bed, it was clear that he was overjoyed at pleasuring my lord Ricq’s masterful feet while receiving the same reciprocation.
After a while, my lord asked me to get up and help me move Lagan towards the middle of the bed so that we could pleasure him. I graciously complied, grasping Lagan’s massive feet and rotating him around until he was lying in the same position that my lord Ricq had been in a few moments earlier.
Lagan seemed surprised at how we seemed to dominate him, but he quickly began to enjoy our ministrations to his large, beautiful feet. As I grasped one beautiful foot and my lord Ricq the other, Lagan moaned in ecstasy as our fingers, lips and tongues found his pleasure spots. His feet were long and broad, slightly toughened from years of working in the green fields of his native Eire. His soles were soft and aromatic. His toes were round and firm, like luscious grapes in my Roman homeland. I could not help but think that they were just as tasty and as sexy as my lord Ricq’s toes.
Seeing my master just a hand’s span away from me, watching him nuzzle and nibble on the tall blond man’s left foot, made me become aroused. Lagan noticed my condition and began playing with my manhood with his right hand. My lord Ricq saw what was going on and guided Lagan’s left hand to his own throbbing member.
In no time at all, all three of us were pleasuring each other in our own seductive ways. My master and I continued to feast upon Lagan’s luscious feet while the tall Celt first pleasured my pulsating member, then my lord Ricq’s. It felt so good to me!
“Oh, my lord Ricq,” I exulted. “Please, give me permission to enter this man.”
My master smiled over Lagan’s wiggling toes. “Do it,” he murmured.
I immediately positioned myself between Lagan’s legs and raised them towards the ceiling. My lord Ricq went to the opposite side of me, placing his magnificent member into the Celt’s warm wet mouth. I entered Lagan and began to pleasure him in earnest. While I was entering him, I began licking his massive feet hungrily. Lagan moaned with ecstasy, and kept repeating some phrase in his native tongue: “Fuck me!”
“That looks great, my dear Pietro,” my lord Ricq commented. “Let me try.”
“Most willingly,” I agreed, and I let my master change places with me. Lagan moaned even more, for my lord Ricq was much man for him. Then I traded placed with my lord. This exchange went on and on through the hours of the afternoon. We were all one hot, sweaty mass of man-flesh erupting with the sounds of moans, slurps and groans.
Finally, I spurted my seed into Lagan’s body. My lord Ricq was so aroused that he too emptied his seed right in Lagan’s mouth. Lagan’s member erupted and spewed mightily all over us. We all lay down next to each other and slept until the next morning.
As my lord and I prepared to leave Neshi’s spa the next day, Lagan approached us and offered us two precious green stones, which he said were from his native homeland. We took them with thanks, and wore them on the way back to our beautiful home in the oasis of the Persian countryside.
I would never forget this trip to Tyre in my whole life!
