The Iessia 3000

By DX

Copyrighted 5/2025, all rights reserved

 In the morning light, the Adriatic laid before me like a lake of fire.  From the crest of my villa, I lazily cast my gaze up into the rich blue sky and watch the majestic airship Goliath, the size of a dragonfly in the distance, slowly sail into to the floating skyport, the attending workers on their sky sleds slewing around urgently like mosquitoes to get it tied off and secured.

 I drank deep, and let my coffee, black as oblivion, fill my soul with light.  Laying on my triclinium, I took my breakfast as my slave refilled my cup.  Her dark, succulent eyes searched for attention, but she knew better than ask.  My schedule for the day included a visit to the stables, and to ensure the best chance of breeding, I needed all my seed intact.

 I’m not as young as I once was.

 Back in the day I could dump a load down her throat and impregnate a half dozen hucows and still have enough to entertain the wife, but that was then.

 I still watched her as I ate, and thought about her fat, soft lips surrounding my turgid member.  I felt my body charge as her come hither eyes flicked at me.

 “Your Grace,”  Callias my servus coughed softly to gain my attention.  “Tesserarius Medusa is coming up the stairs.  I imagine she will announce Lord Pontis.”

 I inwardly moaned.  I held out my hands and shifted to sit up.  My slave quickly cleaned them.  She then chased after me as I walked to the crest of the hill and peered down into the valley.

 A long train of a dozen ponyboys at full gallop thundered down the smooth road up to the gates of my villa.  They were powerful and lean, their muscles oily and sheen.  Their tack was polished, and tight, holding their heads in strict pose.  They wore eye-shields that completely obscured their vision, leaving full trust in the sharp tug of the reigns.  It was an almost silly amount of horse power to haul such a tiny biga, and made sillier still by who drove them.

 Lord Pontis was as opulent as a full moon, and he liked his ponyboys big.  He always ran them at a full gallup, even through crowded streets.  He liked them intact, maintaining and showing off their boisterous, lustful energy; leaving them with their sacks swinging and painfully smacking around, but since he didn’t like any of his slaves to have a bigger phallus than him, he had them all snipped to the skin.

 He kept a trained eunuch slave in his stable who’s only job was to milk his dickless ponyboys prostates for their seed to sell at market.

 As my slave slipped my toga over my shoulder, I called to Callias.  “Get someone down to the gate immediately to welcome his lordship properly, and by properly I mean his dick sucked.  Whatever reason he’s got for pestering me, I want it blunted.”

 He smiled deeply.  “With your permission, I will see to it myself.”

 I waved dismissively and Callias dashed off.  I didn’t want him to go, but he had earned the honor of sucking off a noble.  I only wished it had been a better noble than Pontis.

 Callias only paused briefly at the top of the stair to allow Medusa and her milites to pass by, then quickly ushered down the stair.

 Medusa nodded when she saw I was getting dressed to receive a visitor.

 Medusa’s Nubian skin glowed like chocolate in the morning sun.  So strong!  Her broad shoulders and mighty arm, her gauntleted hand holding her spear, her flat stomach, muscled with river stones, she was majestic art.

 “Do we know why he’s here?”  I asked, my pain evident.

 “Begging your Grace’s forgiveness, Lord Pontis sent no forward word.”  She said, smartly.  “Request permission to speculate, your Grace.”

 “Please.”

 “Serevus the Younger, your Grace.”

 I paused as I thought.  “Oh, he’s of age?”

 “More than of age, your Grace.”  She said, knuckling her head.  “He should have been elevated three years past.  He has not been brought forth to the senate.”  She paused, hesitating, and I waved her on.  “Please, I again beg forgiveness, my words are nothing but conjecture and hearsay…”  She glanced at her milites, and the soldier picked up her shield and walked a few yards away.  “Permission to approach, your Grace?”

 I waved and she stepped over.  “His name has not been brought to senate for fear of a Pollice Verso.”  She whispered scandalously.

 Thumbs down.  

 Serevus the Younger came from a long lineage, traced back to the old republic.  His accession should have been guaranteed, not even brought to a vote.  I glanced at Medusa.  “Well?”

 Her face filled with shame.  “I am not in a place to share such gossip, your Grace.  Take my tongue from my mouth should I risk such slander.”

 “I’ll risk it.”

 She leaned closer.  “Perhaps, perhaps I say, Serevus the Younger prefers to be lorded over, than over lord.”  Her kissable lips curled in as if to shield her tongue.

 “What a supercilious allegation!”  I roared.  “Were your tongue any less valuable, I would certainly see it served to me with some nice cheese and crunchy bread, but you will have to settle on being flogged.”

 She smiled, her breath light.  “Thank you, your Grace!  Then after, might you let me attend you?”

 I winced.  There was nothing more I wanted than her attending me.  “I’m going to the stables this afternoon…”  I weakly explained.

 “After, your Grace?”  Her voice dripped with plea.  “To make sure you’re fully attended and thoroughly drained.”

 My heart and loins quivered.  “We’ll see.”

 She grinned, brightly.

 At the stair, Medusa’s milites made a noise.  She inadvertently, and with full intent, accidentally bumped her shield against a pillar.  When we looked, she tilted her head down the stairs.

 Inwardly I moaned.  “So soon?”

 Medusa confided.  “I’m certain Callias tried to preserve the moment, but Lord Pontis isn’t known for his endurance.”  She saluted.  “Permission to double my flogging for my impudence, your Grace?”

 I waved her away as I heard the laborious pant of Lord Pontis climb the stair.  I walked over and peered down.  Callias was holding onto Pontis’ arm, keeping him upright.  “Callias!  Did you not think to offer to carry Lord Pontis?  A flogging for you!”

 Before Callias could thank me, Pontis with heavy, dragging breath, interceded.  “A thousand pardons, your Grace.”  He wheezed.  “He had insisted, but I ignored him.  I thought I had the energy, but he overly attended to me, leaving me nothing to climb a simple flight of stairs.”

 I motioned with my head and my slave set down her tray, then dashed down the remaining steps to grab Pontis’ other arm and help him up.

 Callias and my slave led him over to the shaded couch and ensconced him there, where they immediately saw to him.  Callias pressed a goblet of wine into his hands and fanned him, while my slave lay on her back before him, removed his sandals, and began to clean the bottoms of his toes with her tongue.

 “Ah!”  Pontis breathed in deep before chugging his wine.  “Mmmm, so delicious!”  He drank more as Callias wiped the dribble from his face.  “The air here, clean of the city’s stink, such a repast for the lungs.”  He drank more and looked around.  “Magnificent!  Such a magical place you have here, your Grace.  I see clearly why you never leave it!”  He held out his glass insouciantly, and Callias quickly filled it.  “Would it be too presumptuous to ask when my time comes you’ll be so gracious as to allow my funeral pyre here?”  He pointed with a shaking finger.  “Right there, perhaps?”

 I tried to keep my face steady.  “While the thought is entertaining, I pray we have decades to consider your demise, Lord Pontis.  Meanwhile, my schedule is rather full today.”

 “Yes of course, your Grace!  And thank you so much for allowing this intrusion.”  His sipped more wine.  “Mmm, such fine grapes restores me.  I beg you, I’ll be brief.  “Serevus the Younger.”

 I shook my head dismissively.  “I do not know the man.”

 “And why should you?”  He responded.  “He has not impressed on the battlefield, as yourself, been a statesman representing the people, as you have, made any mark on the world what so ever.”  Pontis leaned forward slightly.  “He’s but a morsel of bread seeking a scrape of butter.”

 I nodded.  “Then you know I cannot put his name forward to the Emperor.”

 “You cannot!”  Pontis insisted.  “Nor would anyone with a pittance of intelligence expect you too.  You are honest, if that can be a fault.”  He sat back and sipped his wine.  “Which is why I have him coming here today to meet with you.”

 I balked.  “You impose too much, Lord Pontis.  I’ve a full schedule today.”

 He waved his meaty hand.  “He won’t be a bother.  He just needs to shadow you, get a feel for what the status of being a lord will bring.  To see a man such as yourself, of courage and action at work, would kindle the weakest spark to flame.” 

 I sighed tiredly.  “My patience is quickly dissolving, Lord Pontis.  Serevus the Older is an ass, and I am unsurprised and unconcerned that Serevus the Younger lacks support in the senate.  If Serevus the Younger wanted to be a lord, then he would be here with his own voice.  That you are here speaking on his behalf makes me think less of him.  You sir, on a good day, are a thieving, conniving, scoundrel.  Whenever I host an occasion where you are to attend, I include a percent of the budget to lost silverware.”

 He glanced at his goblet of wine.  “And all this time I thought his Grace was giving away souvenirs.”  He smiled like a cat.  “Forgive me your Grace, but not all of us have your intellect.  Imagine, generating revenue by simply thinking about it!  What an amazing ability you have!”

 “I do not make money simply by thinking.”

 He scoffed.  “Forgive me for streamlining the process.  Your complex inventions, innovative, ground breaking!  An incredible amount work goes into them.”  His eyes sparkled.  “The Iessia Trei Mii.  Is it true you went through two thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine failed prototypes before you had a working model?”

 I shrugged.  “It was… a process.”

 He laughed.  “A process!  Such labor to only suffer defeat after defeat, but what a pay off!  Every fine household now has one!”  He closed his eyes as envisioned it.  “Appearing so simple, so elegant, Just a triangular prism frame, and yet such magic packed within.”  He licked his lips.  “I love to watch as the hucow approaches it, their eyes longing to please their master, and as they lay upon it, their belly to the peak of the long triangle and settling their chin in that little cup to hold their head at the right angle, their arms and legs on the unfolded ledges as the attending slaves strap the hucow down.  Then, once secured, the switch is thrown and the clockworks inside the frame begin to tick and tock.  The magic blade slices bloodlessly through the hucow’s abdomen, then the mechanics rake out the offal and clean the space before the coil track stitches the hucow back up and pumps them full of wonderful, tasty stuffing all within seconds!  They barely have time to whimper!  Then, the mechanical arm rises up to position, and the spit is threaded in, like a warrior, armed with a spear, before the little wheels in the arm slowly, slowly thread the sharp end of the spit into the rectum of the hucow, and push it up easily into the body, all the way through to the esophagus, then up the throat, before coming out the mouth.”  Lord Pontis licked his lips.  “And then it is done.  The hucow is spitted alive, and proud to serve their master in this wonderful way.  The slaves then carry them off to the burning pits to be slow roasted to a golden, crispy brown.”  Pontis opened his eyes and looked at me.  “I love watching their faces as they slowly rotate on the girarrosto; their eyes blinking, thanking me for the honor and privilege.”

 “Thank you for explaining to me how the Iessia works, Lord Pontis.”  I said, breaking his reverie.  “And to be clear, there is no magic involved.  The blade you refer too is bloodless because a piston vibrates it so fast that it generates enough heat to cauterize…”

 He held up his hand.  “Please, your Grace, do not ruin the magic with bothersome science.  My point being, your military successes and vast inventory of ingenious inventions have left you a tremendously wealthy, and generous man, leaving us plebs to scrounge for crumbs.”

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Copyrighted, 5/2025 all rights reserved.

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