Forest of Pain

[Luis Adam Bree]

Setting up a Roman military camp was an en*gin*eer*ing mar*vel. Each sol*dier car*ried tools for cut*ting wood, dig*ging, or ham*mer*ing, in ad*di*tion to his wea*pons and shield.
With military precision, the trees of the for*est were fell*ed and cut in*to planks; a moat was dug, and a bar*ri*er fence erect*ed around the en*tire cir*cum*fer*ence of the camp — the "castra."
Young men stripped to their loin*cloths and sweat*ing in the hu*mid warmth of the for*est did the work — pow*er*ful bi*ceps*es, broad shoul*ders, and dark, mus*cu*lar, hairy legs glis*ten*ed with sweat. Men of the Ro*man le*gions were used to to*tal dis*ci*pline and ab*so*lute obe*di*ence to the or*ders of their superior officers — disobedience was punished with death.
When the building was finished, they were allowed to clean up. At once, the efficient and silent workforce became a high spirited, young, male animal, diving naked into the river that snaked through the forest and provided some direction; this was an uncharted and inaccessible area of the Germanic territories.
Observing the young men in the river, it was evident that horseplay was very much a part of this natural, male world, in which ass slapping, cock grabbing games were approved and recurrent forms of letting off steam.
The campfire was still burning brightly as Marcus and Antonio, two friends in the Roman legion, opened their bedrolls. An invisible owl hooted nearby. Antonio glanced at his friend's powerful chest and muscular arms in the shadows of the firelight; he noticed how much his friend resembled an ancient bronze statue of Apollo that stood in the sacred olive grove near Rome.
Marcus turned and thought he caught a look that cannot be mistaken in his friend's eyes — the firelight, perhaps? Later, as the two men slept, wolves howled in the incredible depth of the forest.
The camp awoke at dawn. Each legionnaire assembled his gear quickly. This march was organized to complete a one hundred-mile search for barbarian tribes who terrified the region. No one could know of the deadly consequences of this ill-fated march, or of the agony and humiliation of the following days and nights for these young Roman soldiers.
The second day's march had gone on until noon. The men were ordered to halt and a mid-day meal was prepared. Suddenly, a spear flew through air impaling one of the soldiers. Screams of a thousand barbarian voices were raised in a battle cry, and the forest became alive with a barbarian horde that descended on the legion.
The surprise of the ambush was complete. Although the surrounding forest had been patrolled the previous day, and was found to be undisturbed, such is the skill of the bloodthirsty Germanic warriors that by late afternoon, the rout was complete.
The Roman General, regarding the disaster, fell on his sword; his dying eyes watching helplessly as his legion's sacred standards were carried away by mighty, barbarian tribesmen.
The conquering German tribes forced the Roman soldiers to throw down their swords and surrender. The guttural sounds of the German chieftains were clearly understandable. Marcus and Antonio, and the rest of the defeated Romans, obeyed.
Barbarian tribesmen immediately tied the soldiers' wrists behind their backs and pushed them roughly along the riverbank to a settlement five miles away. By sunset, the captured soldiers reached the stronghold. Sturdy barbarian women and children watched the long column of prisoners, spitting and snarling obscenities.
Before being roughly herded inside, the Romans were stripped naked — uniforms, sword-belts, leather boots, and bronze helmets were distributed among the shouting barbarian throngs; weapons were fought over by the barbarian warriors, and one-hundred strong, young, soldiers were forced into a large horse pen, enslaved by savage, blue-eyed tribesmen.
As night approached, the day's heat and humidity seemed to increase. The barbarians ate and drank; their wild, ritual chanting and powerful drumbeats were accompanied by the howls of packs of hungry wolves in the surrounding forest.
The young, muscular men, some adolescents, were crowded together. Naked, sweating bodies pushed against one another. In this tightly packed condition, some men found their cocks rising as they brushed other strong, athletic bodies, and muttered obscene jokes, passing it off.
As the night wore on, the men sat on the straw lined paddock and leaned on one another to sleep. Soon, the pen was quiet except for the sound of their breathing, and another sound in the distance — hammering and sawing.
The sun's rays penetrated the forest mists as the naked captives were roused in the pen. The barbarian chief entered the center of the compound, accompanied by the warriors who led the rout of the Roman legion. The Imperial Roman standards were displayed before the assembled savage leaders.
The chief, Barkas, addressed his assembled barbarian warriors. Then, he looked in the direction of the young, naked prisoners and commanded that one be brought forward to him. Pushed from behind, Antonio, naked and with his hands bound behind his back, was brought to the barbarian lord.
Barkas was dressed in leather armor; his massive legs sheathed in black leather over boots. A huge belt surrounded his waist. His long, blond hair was loose and he wore a leather cap with strange, geometric markings. His cold blue eyes inspected the dark, young, muscular Roman presented to him.
From the pen, Marcus could see his young comrade, Antonio, as he stood before the leader. He watched as Barkas turned his attention to the boy, inspecting his smooth young flesh and round, muscular ass.
Antonio tensed as Barkas put his hands on his naked body. He swallowed in shame as the warlord's rough palms rubbed the rounded planes of his abdominal muscles, and descended to his large, uncut cock.
Marcus and the other soldiers watched as Antonio's body was examined. He was made to spread his legs as the warlord massaged him, lightly running his massive fingers over his legs and ass and into his hole.
The boy was untied and forced to raise his arms above his head while Barkas squeezed his firm, brown nipples. Antonio felt terror and pleasure flow through him and his cock rose to its full nine inches in response.
This pleased Barkas. He made Antonio bend over, legs spread, while he spat onto his hand and lubricated the boy's asshole. He pulled out his massive cock and slowly forced it into the boy, enjoying Antonio's moaning and whining as he penetrated him.
Antonio tried to endure his violation courageously, but the size and thickness made him sound off. His domination was complete as he felt the barbarian's cock shoot a thick stream of cum into him. When he finished, Barkas had Antonio stand; he stroked his thick young cock while quietly giving an order to his attending guards.
At once, two guards walked behind Antonio and bound his wrists again behind his back. Barkas put his hand on the boy's muscular back and pushed him in the direction of the prisoner's holding pen, escorted by the two barbarians. A short distance from the entrance, they halted.
Barkas pointed to the cross lying on the ground and smiled. Antonio looked. During the night, crosses had been constructed and were placed on the ground around the pen, a series of holes in front of them. Suddenly, he began to sweat; he knew he was going to be crucified!
Crucifixion was a punishment reserved only for slaves and criminals: no Roman was executed this way! Barkas looked at the boy's fear and nodded to the guards. Antonio was untied and pulled onto the rough wooden cross.
Cursing the barbarian pigs, he struggled to free himself from their grip, but his arms were pushed onto the upright. One of the warriors held a sharp, six-inch spike against his open palm. With two powerful blows of a hammer, the spike pierced Antonio's palm.
Screaming in torment, he struggled to free himself from the horrible pain. Again, he felt the point of another sharp spike pressed against his other palm and then the searing, unimaginable pain.
A final spike into his feet completed his bondage on the cross. Slowly, the guards lifted the cross into the hole and secured it with wooden pegs. Howling and groaning in unbearable agony, he begged in vain for mercy.
The handsome Roman hung on the cross to amuse the barbarians. Barkas watched Antonio squirm and writhe, rubbing his hands over the boy's muscular ass as it pressed against the rough wood.
Watching this brutal torture of their comrade, the naked Romans in the prisoners' pen shouted their anger and disgust. Barkas observed them coldly, but made no comment.
He continued to stand close to the cross. In front of him, the twisting, tormented struggle continued. Antonio's powerful young body, each muscle flexed, writhed against the rough wood of the cross. The soft, black hair of his chest, legs, and ass was covered with sweat and streaked with blood. His thick, uncut cock was stiff, his big balls stretched full and taut.
Antonio's pain and sexual arousal lured his sadistic torturer, who stroked his prisoner's cock and massaged his legs. Wailing in the agony of his crucifixion, and potent with masochistic pleasure, Antonio came, shooting an arc of cum into the air, and onto the earth at the base of his cross.
Barkas laughed at the youth's painful struggle and joked about the boy's impressive offering. He ordered a second naked prisoner to be brought to him. The revelry had begun. The sun rose in the sky, while the shadows of towering pines moved slowly towards the barbarian compound in the forest of pain.
By early evening, fifty Romans had been crucified and were displayed for the entertainment of the barbarians. It was now that Marcus saw the warlord select him. He sweated as his hands were tied behind him and he was led to the barbarian.
As he left the pen, he passed beneath the writhing bodies of his fellow soldiers, listening to them plead, and grunt, and scream as they learned the lesson of crucifixion. Marcus could see murderous lust in the cold, blue eyes of the barbarian as he was presented.
Marcus felt the rough hands of the barbarian leader, who licked his ears, nipples, and his muscular neck. Barkas was pleased with the broad shoulders and smooth skin of his prisoner. Despite his revulsion, Marcus felt his cock rise and harden.
Barkas twisted the moistened nipples, probing the boy's tight hole with his long, thick fingers. It was Barkas' wish to add something to the festivities. So, Marcus was led to a pole and his hands tied above him. Shackles were placed on his ankles and his legs were spread.
Barkas approached the young, muscular Roman and, at first, gently twitched the tip of a short whip against his back, legs, and ass. The whip marks striped the smooth, olive skin of his back and ass. Barkas was careful to leave welts, not open wounds. He wanted to intensify the roughness of the wooden cross for Marcus.
Marcus was taken from the whipping post and two barbarian guards pushed him toward the pen. Marcus saw the cross on the ground. It was crudely cut and about eight feet high.
The guards forced him onto it and bound his feet with rope onto the upright. His muscular arms were stretched along the cross bar and held onto it by the powerful, wild-eyed barbarians.
A third guard appeared with a sledge hammer and six inch iron spikes. Marcus felt the pressure of the iron spike at it was held against his hands. With sudden fury, first the right, and then his left hands were nailed to the rough oaken plank.
His screams and howls of pain were incredibly loud. He begged the guards to end his torment with their swords, but they only laughed as his rage and painful squirming. The cross was lifted and placed in its hole. His feet were tied, but not nailed. Barkas had ordered this.
Barkas walked to the foot of the cross. He wanted to see his handsome Roman and massage his legs and feet as Marcus struggled in agony on the cross. Only after this ritual would Barkas hammer in the final nail that bound Marcus's feet to the cross.
Barkas reserved this pleasure for himself. He was impressed by the stirring virility of his captive. Marcus's muscular, hairy legs and well-defined chest and arms, as well as his full ass and large cock and balls stirred the twisted emotions of his barbarian captor. Rage, envy, and revenge produced this slaughter, which filled the mind of the lustful and violent barbarian.
Standing alone in the red glow of blazing campfires, Barkas gazed in a mad trance at Marcus and watched his painful writhing, while he kissed, and finally nailed, his feet to the cross. Beyond the screams of this young man nailed in torment on a cross, the forest was filled with howling wolves, scenting blood and who crept closer to the festival in the forest of pain.