My Master's Garden: The Painter and His Boi
From the position of the sun in the sky it was approaching noon and I hung, along with Liliana, wrists bound above our heads, my right and her left leg tied by the ankle to the huge phallus that projected from the middle of my Master's cross and our remaining limbs hanging free. I had lost all feeling in my wrists and my shoulders and arms ached with piercing pain. The flies and other insects persisted in their torments on our naked, whip lashed bodies and found their way into even our most private of orifices. Sweat poured from my chest and armpits and back and dripped off of my belly, tortured penis and balls.
As I suffered these many discomforts and indignities I soon heard footsteps, again, on the gravel path and raised my head to see who it was. Approaching the cross was a large, fat man, wearing a straw hat and a long, billowing cotton gauze robe of sorts, revealing his naked body beneath. He wore sandals and carried a box and an easel under one arm. Once he had stopped before our place of torture I could see his body quite well beneath the thin fabric, revealing a big, fat belly like a pregnant woman, sagging breasts and big man tits that poked at the cloth. His distended large navel sat like a jewel adorning his enormous belly, that, in turn, loomed over a tiny penis and small balls.
"Allow me to introduce myself, children" he spoke. "My name is Galen and Aurelia is my sister. I am an artist of some renown and have come to paint your portrait." He paused a few seconds, for affect, and again, footsteps were heard on the path. A young man, looking to be in his early 20's, appeared in front of us, wearing nothing but a small pair of thin white cotton shorts and sandals. He had a thick mane of curly black hair and a nice growth of hair on his mid chest and belly. He was tanned and fit, with well-muscled arms and legs but, curiously, a bit of fat around the middle, giving him a little bulge over the waistband of his shorts. He did not speak and Galen told us his name was Elias, his nephew and helper.
"Elias will make you ready now while I set up my canvas and palette." The boy proceeded to pull up the small ladder and, carrying a wet cloth in his hand, to gently wash Liliana's body from head to toe, caressing her breasts as he did so and pushing the cloth into her vagina. When he had finished those ablutions he brought out a brush and began to gently brush her long, black hair until it was untangled and fell upon her shoulders and back. Once he had finished he stood on the ground and reaching up and taking hold of Liliana's hips, pushed his tongue up into her pussy and lingered there for a moment as she moaned with unbridled pleasure. He then climbed back up a few steps on the ladder and removed her ball-gag, before giving her a long drink from a cowhide bota he had brought along. Once she had her fill he replaced her gag and climbed down.
This bit of grooming concluded, he moved the ladder to my side of the cross and, dipping the cloth into a small bucket of cold water, began wiping my head and neck, the curly hairs on his chest brushing my face as he did so. Moving down he bathed my chest and underarms, belly and groin, pulling softly on my still erect penis, before wiping the cloth across my buttocks and into the cleft there. As he lowered himself on the ladder to bathe my legs and feet he paused to kiss the tip of my penis with his lips, then took the organ into his mouth and suckled it, sending shivers throughout my pain wracked body - shivers of blissful ecstasy blended with agony and misery. Climbing up the steps Elias removed my ball gag and parted my dry, spittle-coated lips with his fingers and allowed me a long drink from the bota. He had completed his task and withdrew from the cross, walking quietly down the gravel path and disappearing from our sight.
Galen was now seated on a folding chair, paintbrush in one hand and palette in the other, his canvas propped on a wooden easel to his right. He began to paint what he saw and we proved to be perfect models, exhausted from our hours hanging from the cross beam and the severe whippings administered by Mistress Aurelia. I have no idea how long we "posed" for the artist, but the sun was lower in the western sky when he set aside his palette and began to pack up his easel and canvas. Elias returned and I watched as he followed Galen to Liliana's side of the cross and climbed the short ladder, his fat body balancing on the top rung, before reaching up to untie the slave's hands. Elias reached up and untied Eliana's foot from the phallus and together they carried her naked, limp body down the path until that small procession was out of sight.
Some few minutes later the artist and his boi returned for me and untied me from the cross and carried me to my small cell, chaining me to my mattress on the floor. I could hear echoes of their smiling voices as they locked the door and departed, no doubt for a pleasant dinner, with wine and delicious food. That night I cried soft tears of sorrow and loneliness and outside my bare four walls a full moon rose and bathed my Master's cross in soft, pale moonlight.