Douleia - Servitude

I went downstairs to Mila and ordered her to provide new clothes for our guest and to care for his dirty ones. That included emptying his bag. As all my servants, Mila tended to the things without really seeing them. She hurried to follow my orders, and I knew when Sid came out of the shower, he would find his bag emptied, his things arranged carefully on top of the drawer, and all his dirty clothes gone and replaced by others.

In less than an hour Sid came downstairs to join me at the table set for us in the patio. He was wearing a pair of lose fitting trousers and a sleeveless white linen shirt, and he looked just gorgeous, with all the dust and grime gone, his golden skin competing with his golden hair. I appreciated his looks with a smile and bid him sit down opposite to me.
We had a quiet meal, with Mila hustling and bustling silently in and out of the room to bring the courses and reset the table. Over the dessert, I threw Sid another one of my glances, and I was satisfied to see him blush. I knew what he was thinking. Sitting there leaned back in my chair, I was more than the owner of the house. I owned everything in it, too. In fact, I do. My servants are as well my property as my guests, and I regard them as such. Sometimes treat them as such, too.

Sid seemed to read my thoughts and grinned sheepishly. I looked at him questioningly, and said, "What a pleasant evening. We have a handsome guest, excellent food, I should have arranged some music..." I lowered my glance, reached behind and lazily combed through my hair with my hands, then I looked straight at Sid and sighed, "I have had a long day, Sid. You will excuse me if I retire early."

Sid looked at me as if he tried to read me, then he agreed, "Yuh well, I'll hit the sack, too." He waited for my nod of agreement, then got up and went upstairs, then stopped."Hey, thanks for the dinner. Thanks for all." He waited for me to reply, but I just kept looking at him until he turned and went into his room.

It was a hot night, and my cool linen sheet did not stay cool for long. This and the light smell of cinnamon waking memories kept me from sleeping. I got up again an hour after having gone to bed, and went to Sid's room. He was sound asleep and did not even stir when I tiptoed inside. The windows were open, as well as the shutters, and I felt the soft breeze on my naked skin. I leaned there watching him for quite some time until he somehow noticed the change in the atmosphere and woke up to find he was being watched. Sid stared back at me and, suddenly aware of my and his own nakedness, he sat up, covering himself with his blanket. His body was perfection, almost as good as mine. A second later, he seemed to feel ridiculous and let go of the cloth again.

In a moment, I was by his side, my hand on his arm. "Do not talk. Do not spoil the moment. I know you are attracted, I know you have not done this before, you will be all right."

He remained silent and shivered in anticipation. I let lose the feelings that had summoned inside me, covering every inch of his skin with my lips. I felt Sid's breathing come faster, and we both slid in a kind of lush ecstasy I had not experienced for years. I could not tell how often I made him cum, and yet I kept myself from being aroused too much, even when he touched me. And he did like to touch me, as I had known he would, from the very beginning. Then Sid's breathing slowly calmed down again, and he bent over me. "Ephoros, I never..."

"Do not talk," I chided him. "I know."

"But I don't," he replied, "I thought maybe I could make up for what you've done..."

I ventured another smile, but I looked past him. "Listen, boy," I said, trying to keep my impatience out of my voice. "Tell me what you want. But if you go on this way, there is no turning back."

Sid flinched, but replied nothing.

Sometimes you are doing something you have never done before, because you did not dare do it, or because you did not know how, until someone comes your way who can tell you how to do it. Then suddenly, while it pleases you to do it, you come to your senses for a short moment, realizing what you are doing to yourself - to your morale - or whatever principle you have chosen to cross. This kind of awareness caught up with Sid while I was silently fucking his mouth. He made the mistake of letting it show. I retracted to let him have a rest, but I was annoyed that he did not have the courage to speak up against me.

When he had taken a deep breath, I took his face in my hands and looked at him. "I told you, remember?"

Sid nodded and urged a smile, but he said nothing. When he tried to shift, I found it was time to get plain. "Turn, boy." My voice was soft as liquid, yet not to be disobeyed. Sid gaped at me, but he followed my order. After one look in my eyes, and I have reason enough to be very sure about that, he had no other chance. I hovered over him, whispering in his ear: "Cooperate or fight it, boy. Depends how you want it to be."

He somehow found the courage to reply now, "Why this, Ephoros? Do you want to scare me? Yeah, I'm scared. I won't fight. I just didn't expect it to be..." He inhaled sharply when he felt my cock at his entrance. I felt him tighten up.

I did not feel any of the sentiments I had before. I wanted him, but did not feel like fighting. Hence, I reached around his hips and pressed those sensitive points that make your legs go numb. Now he would not feel me, and I soon felt him relax. I took him. And took him again. And it was good to feel the warm blood spilling over his skin running over my sack, no matter if it was his or mine. Sid had long blacked out before I rolled off him.


Kyklades, Ionic Age

The ship was waiting for us when we got down to the small haven. What a solemn moment! In contrast to our usual outfit, both of us were wearing shoes this time, and we were clad like noblemen. I felt like a god, isódeos, walking down the stone steps, feeling the eyes of everyone on Kallíos and me. My sadness was gone. There was only a euphoric expectation, and the outlook alone at going to the Ephesus market after a pleasant boat trip made my heart jump.

It was going to be an extraordinarily hot day, but we only found out after we had reached the Ephesus haven. What a wonderful city it was! You could see its columns from far away, and when I finally walked up the magnificent central arcade, with columns to the left and to the right, a marble floor, and a roof all over it, I felt I was alive. I looked at Kallíos, and obviously he felt the same. The only difference between us was that he could express his feelings far better than I could. Every other moment he would tug at my sleeve and say, "See this mosaic?" or "See that shop over there?" and he laughed like a boy. My thoughts, though, were with the market behind the portal.

When we came closer we felt we would be missing the cool shadow of the avenue. Anyway, this was the reason why we had gone here: the slave market. You cannot imagine how huge a crowd there was! There were thousands of slaves, from all countries, doubling the number of Ephesians. I kept striding to the far left wing, with Kallíos reluctantly behind me. I knew his feelings about the market, but on the other hand, he felt like a master himself now, and that was what he had always wanted to be: on the other side.

The choice was vast, and yet - we did not find what we wanted. There were several youngsters, even good-looking ones, but not good enough. Some were a bit older, well trained, and already too decadent; or too expensive for what they were able to do, or both. My mood grew worse and worse, and yet I did not want to give up. Then, when the sun had begun to leave its zenith already, we found him. Or rather, he found us.

I felt him long before he was behind me: a pre-immortal. Kallíos was standing opposite to me, and I gave a slight nod so that he remained where he was. Then he could feel the boy, too, but he did not show. Suddenly I felt an ever so slight movement at my purse. I grabbed swiftly behind me and caught a boy's wrist. I pulled him in front of me.

He was lean, had an almost translucent skin, but for the grime on it, and a bunch of dark hair. When I looked into his dark green eyes, I could see there was much defiance, much character, much life... Kallíos threw me a questioning glance, and I gave a nod. I guessed his age at six, maybe seven years. He grinned at me sheepishly. I grinned back.

Then I saw that his left hand was hidden behind his back, and Kallíos gestured to me. I took hold of the hand and forced it open. There was a coin in it, sharpened at one side to make it a small but effective weapon. I took it from his hand and threw it up into the air, then caught it, feeling the sharp end cutting into my skin. I opened my hand and let the boy watch the wound bleed and close again in an instant. He gaped at me with big round eyes.

"You did not intend to steal my purse, boy. Did you? You just pushed me," I said, my voice as sweet as honey. He nodded eagerly. I smiled down at him. "Tell me your name, boy."

His smile beamed. "Mateo."

XXX

I had left Mateo to Kallíos on our way back to my island. What they were talking about, I did not know. I did not care, either. One look at the boy, who was sound asleep in Kallíos' arms, and I knew my foster-son had given him some opiate to chew on. When I asked Kallíos, he said Mateo had been seasick and had said he trusted Kallíos. I was content with that. When we arrived, Kallíos lifted the boy up and carried him to his quarters.

Later on, I started my watching routine. I was very pleased with what I saw and heard. Mateo seemed to accept his new fate, for Kallíos was very soft on him first. I secretly envied Kallíos' tranquillity. He explained Mateo that he was supposed to share his room and bed from now on, and the boy simply agreed. Kallíos refrained from touching him intimately, of course, as this was my business entirely.

Yet Mateo had a whole bunch of questions, and Kallíos patiently answered all of them. In his answers, he explained the essentials of his future training without letting the boy know what he was to expect: never disobey the master, never ask back when Evranos asks you a question. The master is always right. He must have made a show of describing my punishing techniques earlier on our journey, for Mateo never even once dared ignore these rules. Much later, Mateo told me how Kallíos had explained to him that even for petty theft you were hung up at your wrists until your hands fell off. I did not laugh. He might have been right, but then, even Kallíos didn't know.

Slowly, we started the training. It was one of Mateo's duties to fetch the morning and evening meals from the kitchen as well as to bring back the tray. He did this without asking after Kallíos had once said that he was provided with everything for doing some small duties, and if he thought he was to fragile for these, he was no more than a girl. Oh, yes, you could always catch Mateo at his pride. Even decades later...

Then Mateo had to take his baths only together with Kallíos, and he was to dry him off afterwards, and only then he was allowed to use the same towel for himself. I observed that he came to like this particularly, and I assumed that he was proud of doing so after they had had a long day full of physical exercise. And this was another point. Mateo was supposed to become a dancer. How Kallíos convinced him I couldn't tell. But somehow, he was looking forward to becoming at least as handsome a man as my foster-son, and when I once asked him why he was training so much, he actually said that he wanted to have a nice shape when he was dancing.

One evening I was listening to one of my female servants playing the lyre, when suddenly there was a knock at the door. I bade Mateo come in, for I could feel his presence. He entered shyly, holding a flask of oil, not knowing how to start. I ordered the woman to leave the room, knowing she would wait outside until I called her in again. Then I turned to see what Mateo would do. He remained standing there, though, until I addressed him, "Why are you here, Mateo?"

The boy smiled and proudly presented his little flask of oil, "I am here as a surprise. Kallíos sent me. He thought maybe you want a massage."

I laughed. "I am surprised. And yes, I do want a massage. Come closer."

He approached me full of awe, still holding his little flask in one hand. I took it from him and put it aside. Then I watched him. He was fidgeting. "Shall I start?"

I shook my head. "Not good, Mateo. Something is missing..."

He scratched his head and knitted his brow, which looked endearing, but he did not know. I told him: "You do not just say 'yes': you say, 'yes, master.'"

His eyes widened, then he nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, master. Shall I start then, yes master?" He laughed nervously, and when I joined him the ice was broken.

"How do you think you'll start with me being clad in this?" I said with mocking reproach. You cannot imagine how much fun it can be to have an eight-year-old boy hopping around you in order to rid you of a tunic. I let him do whatever he found right, and luckily we managed to get ready without him spoiling the cloth. But only when he started massaging my back did I find out what a surprise Kallíos really had intended to make: Mateo was a natural. He even seemed to be amused by all the muscles and tendons he found. The perpetual working of his little hands aroused me, and I turned. He was now sitting on my lap, or rather, on my erection, without taking care, and he just went on with his massage. I watched his eager face, the little tongue stuck out, the strange eyes full of attention on what he was doing. And at that precious and dangerous moment I fell in love with him.

When Mateo had gone, I sent the lyre playing girl away and instead followed the boy. I watched Kallíos treat him just as he had been taught. He pretended to be jealous, and for the first time hit the boy. I knew he would never break the skin, but the beating certainly hurt nonetheless. He left Mateo hurt and miserable, and the whole story took a new turn.

Over the following weeks and months, Kallíos' behaviour towards Mateo grew worse and worse. If the boy loved him first, he now came to hate him thoroughly. I watched them from afar, and again I was very pleased with myself.


Samos, Summer 2000

Sid did not die.

Instead, I could hear his muffled crying for some time the next morning, and then finally he got up. I sent Mila to attend him, and she came back and said, "Your guest is ill, master. He needs a doctor."

I looked back at her and saw the fear in her eyes. "No, Mila, what he needs is a bath. Stay with him until he feels better. He will recover soon enough." She lowered her head and hurried to follow my orders.

He is still with me. I think I broke him, but I do not care. He is in a kind of delirium, serving me whenever it pleases me, but obviously not here in his thoughts. He seems to feel nothing, think nothing. Again, I am lacking the right words... anaisdísia...

I do not want to kill him, though.

I will indulge in memories again, and maybe when I wait enough time, he will come to. Anyway, he will never come close to the one I loved, and still love. He will only be my own, like so many others.


Kyklades, Back Then, Some Years Later

I had made it a habit to let Mateo massage me every other night, then we would talk a bit, and I soon realized how precious he was. He could talk about figures and his plans for the future without even once stopping to do whatever I asked of him. I knew he did not like me very much, but this was not important. It was important that he made me feel as if he did like me.

When I told him that I was preparing for battle, he was excited.

"Do you teach me how to lead an army, master?"

In contrast to my principles never to answer the question of a slave, I replied: "When you are old enough, yes, I will."

"Will you take me with you?"

There I had to smile, "No, Mateo. Not yet. You stay with Kallíos and wait for me to return. And listen, boy: no more questions."

"Yes, master." And his eyes were shining brightly and proudly.

Some time later, he experienced the joy of being aroused and satisfied. Then, after he had calmed down again, I showed him how to please others. The boy took it naturally, as I had hoped, and was eager to please.

"This is the rain of the gods," I said the first time Mateo saw me ejaculate. To the astonished round eyes of the young boy I went on explaining, "They give it to us as a gift when we are most joyful. When it falls on the woman's seed, the crop may be a new baby. Do not worry. You do not yet have it because you are just a boy. When you become a man, you will see. I tell you this because I do not want you to worry once it happens."

The boy smiled at me, and I could feel how much he was looking forward to share this ability of mine. And he would, and it would be wonderful, and I planned to shower in it.

I had instructed Kallíos to prepare the boy for attending me when I came back from warship. I wanted him to show his joy to meet me with all his body, his newly won manhood proud in its erectness, I wanted to see him dance then, and I was looking forward to feeling his hands on my body once I got back. These thoughts were what kept me in a good mood most of the time, although the battle was rough and dirty and ate up more of my army than I had expected. Finally, we succeeded, and I got home early, that is: after only a year.

I can see it clearly in front of my inner eye: I went upstairs to my house tired and covered with grime, looking forward to a bath and other niceties, but no Mateo came running down the steps, as I had expected him to do, as my ship could be seen ashore long before I even disembarked. Instead, he was standing in front of the house, with a proud expression on his face. He would not kneel, neither would he attend me. When I asked him to bring me a glass of wine, he did so, but defiantly. There my temper burst, and I seized him with my hands. I would have killed him there and then, turning him into a lifelong child, had Kallíos not intervened.

"It was my fault, Evranos! Let me punish him, I beg you!" he implored me.

And in my rage, I pushed the boy from me, hearing him hit the opposite wall, and then I pounced onto Kallíos like a mad dog. Fortunately, as I found out later, the boy fainted, so he was spared the sight that followed.

I cannot say how many times I killed Kallíos that night. When I woke up late the other day, he had gone. My room had been made, my clothes cleaned. I got up, had some wine, and without cleaning myself or waiting for a slave to do so, I went to watch Kallíos' room from my hiding place.

Mateo was crying, his skin almost broken from the bruises, Kallíos sitting beside him on the bedstead without comforting him.

Finally, Mateo said, "I hate you. I will kill myself. Then it has an end. I will never be a slave. I am free... "

And Kallíos replied, "You will never be free. And if you try to kill yourself, I will personally take over, and it will take much longer than you could imagine..."

Hence, both remained sitting there. I went back to my room inebriated with triumph. To understand what I felt then, one has to realize what I had in mind for Mateo, and what I had trained Kallíos for. He was the one Mateo should learn to hate, and he did ever so well, even against his will. Mateo would again come to me, and he would learn to trust me, not only as his master but also as the one who listened to his words. He would more and more grow to like me, more than he would ever have been able to, had I made him my slave.

But I had underestimated the boy, and I had overestimated Kallíos, so the triumph I felt was only for myself. Then and there I decided to let go of Kallíos. He had made the biggest mistake he could ever have made: he had told Mateo that he was to be my slave, and thus awakened Mateo's pride.

Later, I called the boy to me. He came, still wearing the expression of hurt pride. I smiled at him and bade him sit down at my side. He did so. Then I put my arm around his shoulders and talked to him soothingly. "Mateo, my friend, what has Kallíos done to you?"

The boy sobbed once, and then he choked back his tears and answered, "He said I was your slave."

I pretended astonishment, "How dare he say so? You are nothing of that sort, Mateo. No, what is more, Kallíos is my slave, although he might never have told you. And he is your slave, too, if you like."

You can imagine how the boy's face lit up. "Is that true, master?"

I reinforced what I had said by nodding dramatically.

"But he has hit me after he came back from your room."

I knew about that, too, of course, but I did not show. Instead, I was appropriately concerned. "If this is the case, Mateo, you will hit him in exchange."

And so it happened. I made my servants take poor Kallíos outside in the courtyard, where he was hung up by the wrists. Then I let the boy hit him with my whip. Although he was not so strong yet, he soon understood how to use a whip without much effort, and he would have beat Kallíos to shreds, had I not stopped him. I had to take hold of his hand to do so, and I could still see the fury and hatred in the boy's eyes. This was almost more exciting for me than the look of love for me would have been. But then I led the boy away, because I did not want to let him watch Kallíos recover.

I would take care of Kallíos' head one day, but the time had not yet come. I needed him until the boy was no boy any more, and until that day he would remain my faithful slave. He did not hesitate to serve me the other day, and he kept following my orders until his last breath. If I can praise myself for something, it is my ability to make a human being to my will, without ever failing.


To be continued...