Douleia - Servitude

Ionic Ages

One day I saw that Mateo had finally entered the development of adolescence, ebáskein, and short time later I called him to my room. He sat down by my side. It came as a surprise to him that what I did to him then was much better than anything we had done before. Of course, the reason was not only that it had been years ago that he had felt anything else but my hand, and also that his hormones did most of my work. So I explained, as I had done before several times, why he was made only to be loved by men, and to love men in exchange. I said, "Now has come the time to show you why you are made for something else..."

I made him lie on his belly. Then I carefully touched his skin with my fingers, and when he started to react, I put my hands under his hipbones and licked my way up his thighs until I was finally rimming him. He cried out in delighted surprise. When he was aroused enough, I spit in my hand and wet myself, and then I slowly started to invade him. He begged me to stop, he felt he could not take it, but I calmed him, whispering to him while I never stopped moving, slowly, softly, and when he finally sighed I was in him in one smooth go, then I halted until Mateo's sobbing had stopped, too.

Then I started moving again, ever so slightly, and the expected reaction came. It is always funny to see how frightened they are first, and how astonished then, when they realize this feeling is one of the best you can get. From this day on, I fucked Mateo frequently, and he loved it. He soon believed that no woman would ever give him such pleasure. It is my belief, too. You can own a woman, but you can love only a man.

Samos, Summer 1965

Some time ago, a good friend of mine - or so I think she was - gave me the honour of her presence. For some hours she sat with me in the patio one evening, talking to me. Her name was Tara. She was the only one apart from Giorgos who knew the truth about me. This was what we were discussing:

"So you are still here, Evranos," Tara stated.

"Yes, I am," I replied.

"How do you earn your living?" she inquired politely.

"I am rich," I said. "And I am still into slave trading."

"Have you ever done anything else than slave trading and warfare?"

"No, Tara. That is all I have ever done," I answered truthfully.

After a minute or two of silence, she asked, "But didn't you know that all people are slaves?"

"I do not understand."

"We are all slaves to our fears, Evranos," she said.

"I do not fear. I cannot love. I cannot hate. How could I fear?"

I looked at her, and she did not turn away. "And yet you are passionate."

"Well, yes," I admitted. "Sometimes. I want to be honest with you. I myself have been a slave, first. But later, and over all those wars, I used up all the fear I had. There is only a little desire left, the only feeling I have."

"Do you feel compassion, then?"

"Hardly ever." And I never missed it, either.

"Why, Evranos, you haven't changed a bit over all those millennia!" she exclaimed.

"There you are right," I replied. "Mateo has changed; he has always known how to adapt, just like a chameleon. And I have not."

"But then Mateo hasn't changed, either. He has adjusted to his surroundings, but he has not changed his attitude."

"You make me think," I said. "But then, I can only change by dying."

"Evranos, that is not true. And you know that. Disturbing Karma. You have to change your attitude."

"Tara, I thank you," I replied. "But this cannot be. Men have always been givers or takers. I am one of those takers, and I will always remain that way. Just like you cannot change what you are. And you are a taker, too, although you might not like the idea."

And from thence, our talk took another direction.

I am missing her dearly. She died some years ago, of old age. And I know that she will be reborn, just as it was her belief, and she will be even wiser than before. But unfortunately, it is not my own belief, and thus I will never meet her again.

Kyklades, Ionic Age

One day, I announced that I would go to Ephesus again. I told Mateo that I would be back soon, and that he should stay with the others meanwhile. I had a pleasant journey, because it was only a short trip. After we had left the island, the ship would turn and take a course around it. I would then get to the shore again and take a horse, which was held ready for me. I must admit that all this was pretty much for such a strange reason, but it was all part of my mekhanema, for the whole journey had only the aim to change Mateo.

I arrived after sunset, just in time to watch. This is how it happened: Kallíos had been instructed to rape him. Mateo would then try to punish him for that, which, of course, would not be of much value because I was not near him to give the orders. Kallíos would then gather some servants around him, and like in a mutiny they would hunt Mateo down in order to kill him. Everything that happened now was part of my plan, and I had played it in my mind dozens of times.

They brought Mateo to a chamber where he was stripped naked, and his hands were bound to the back. His feet were bound, too, in a fashion that he could only kneel or lie on his side like a baby. Then Kallíos put a gag on him that was made of steel, like a horse's brittle, and so tight that it cut into his delicate skin. The gag was made in that fashion that it would become impossible for him to close his mouth, and hard even to breathe. I had invented it in a weird dream, and this was the first and last time I used it.

Then Kallíos ordered the slaves to dig a pit large enough for a man to lie in. They heated a grill made of iron over the open fire until it was white hot and dropped it to the bottom of the pit. And then they shoved Mateo into the pit, on top of the grill. I came to watch just then.

I will never forget his muffled screams. I will never forget the smell of his burned skin, and the pale faces of the ones standing around me. I was heavily aroused by all this, and yet it was the only time in my life felt something like shame for my wretched nature.

However, I did not feel pity and thus I waited until the screaming stopped. I looked into the pit, and to my astonishment Mateo was still alive, he had merely fainted. It is of no use to describe how he looked, but it should suffice to say not many a man would have survived such grave burns. Yet he had, and that was not part of my plan. If he survived, he would have scars no doctor could take away. He must have felt my presence somehow, and he revived and tried to look up from his grave. I did not want him to see me, so I stepped back and ordered the others to fill the pit with water. They hesitated, but when they saw my face, they hurried to obey my orders. And so, finally, I drowned like a puppy the boy I was in love with, in order to make him my own.

XXX

When all was over, I told my servants to haul him out of the pit and take the corpse into my house. They untied and cleaned him, and then Nicos put him on my bed, as I had ordered. Now, I was alone with the still dead Mateo. He must have looked awful, yet I hardly saw his wounds, or his pale skin, bluish where it had not been burnt. I must have regarded him like a hawk regards his prey, and I was impatient to see him come back to life.

It took a long time for him to come to regain his life. When he finally did so, he coughed out all the water and immediately started crying. I comforted him and eased his pains until he was fully healed. Then I explained to him that he was alive because I wanted him to live. And he believed me, and he now also believed that I was a god. He repeated this again and again, and he called me his true master, and it was more than just a word. I blessed him with my kiss, and I held him in my arms, knowing he was my true property now. This responsibility was my douleía, my servitude, always, to myself, and for our future.

Samos, Summer 2000

The weather has changed, and after some rain, for which the land had an urgent need, everything is suddenly fresh and green now. The whole island looks like one enormous greenhouse. What a pleasant time to die! Had I thought that life would go on for me enjoyably all the time, I was a dreamer. Now an old enemy called Benedetto Corioli has challenged me, and I do not really want to risk a fair fight. It is thus: Benedetto has reason enough to hate me, and he is extremely good. I, however, am out of practice, but highly interested in staying alive. I did not know that it was his girlfriend I brought into slavery years ago, and I could not keep her from killing herself. Moreover, it was a surprise to me, too, that she was pregnant. How could I know? Such things happen all the time, and I would not have thought Benedetto to be such a sentimental fool to risk his own head for a woman. But he did, and he finally found me on my island. Thus, I will have to go on a journey...

I have heard that Mateo is together with an immortal called Duncan MacLeod. He is said to be one of the best fighters, and all I could hear of him, "one of the good men," too. The champion, some say. Thus I will travel to Paris and make myself known to him, and after he has found out who and what I am, and after I have used my powers on him, he will certainly be of much use to me.

Kyklades

We had made it a habit to play strange little games that pleased both of us extremely. Many of them included that I treat Mateo as my slave - which, in fact, he was but never knew, or at least not for a very long time. One of those little games was that I let him punish himself. It sounds strange, first, but it is no stranger than punishing a human being in general, and as a modern man I must regard slaves as human beings, after all. Indeed, it was more effective than doing it so myself. This is what happened:

One day Mateo came into my room and looked directly into my eyes. I chided him for that, and he said he was sorry, but in his posture I could see no resentfulness. Therefore, I ordered him to take the cat-of-nine-tails from the wall. He winced but obeyed and handed me the whip. I shook my head,"No, Mateo, you will beat yourself."

He looked at me in astonishment.

But I gave him no more time to think about it. "Kneel."

He knelt down, standing on his knees as he was supposed to.

"Twenty at the back, and ten at the front."

When he hesitated again, I shouted, "Do as I say." And thus he started. He must have known instinctively that I would have taken over, had he not pulled through every single beat, as it had to be. After the first ten he staggered. I ordered him to carry on, and he did so. With every strike he moaned, but he was still too proud to show me his pain. Then, before the last one, I made him stop and took over. I hit only once, but right across his groin, and he fell to his side and fainted.

When he came to again, he admitted that this little plot of mine had pleased him more than anything.

Paris, summer 2000

Now I am here, in the middle of a Metropolis I have already come to like. I used my visit here to call at a friend's, name of Jacques Lavalle, and he was kind enough to provide a place to stay. He is living right in the centre of Montmartre, and as he told me, this is the place to go when someone is looking for anything special. Well, right at the moment, the only one I am looking for is Duncan MacLeod, and I know where to find him.

I have been to Joe's Le Blues Bar today. The owner was standing behind the bar, a middle aged handsome man with a handicap, and we had a pleasant talk, something like this:

"Good evening, monsieur Dawson, how are you?"

"Thanks. Can I help you?"

"I would like a glass of wine, please."

"Aw, wine, well... I do have to look then what we've got. You know, this is a bar. People usually want a beer or something stronger."

"I will have something stronger then." I saw a bottle of heavy Tsantali in one of the shelves and had a glass of it. I closed my eyes and could see the Minoan hills; I could smell the wine's warm and delicious flavour before I had the first mouthful. Then I felt that I was being a watched and looked into Dawson's eye. "Very good liquor this is, monsieur Dawson. It comes from Crete."

"Yup, I know."

"If you like, I can send you some more. I am not living in Crete any more, but I have good connections. Besides, I can send you some of my own wine, too, from Samos."

"That's very kind of you, sir. Why, maybe we don't only have good music in the future but also good wine!" He laughed, and I knew he was still scanning me.

Anyway, I had to make a point here. "Do you know Duncan MacLeod? I have been told he is a friend of yours."

"Yep, comes to this place quite a lot. Do you want to meet him?"

I looked into his eyes again and he answered my glance steadily. "Yes, I want to talk to him. There is an offer I have to make."

"Well, tough luck. He's not here at the moment."

"Do you know when he will be back?"

"Nope, sorry." He turned to serve other guests who had just entered his establishment. Then he came back and excused himself. I had the distinctive impression that he was not up to talking to me, but he was curious about my persona. I felt inclined to help him there. "Rumour has it MacLeod is a good man."

Dawson glared at me. "He's the fucking best guy I've ever met, you know. And I mean it. He's not only doing good; whenever he has come to a conclusion he's contemplating for weeks if he has done the right thing."

"I never do that."

"Yuh, I bet you don't."

"Dawson, do you think one can learn to be good?"

"No, I don't think so. You can try to do good, but you can't change."

"So what would you say if someone has had slaves all his life, and been cruel, and he has had a very long life, and now finds out that he has done wrong all his lifetime?"

"I would call him a poor bastard."

"You don't think that doing good now would make up for it some time?"

"Nope, sorry."

"You are a wise man, monsieur Dawson."

"Comes with being mortal, mister..."

"Nicos Evangelis."

"... Mister Evangelis. Time's running, you've got to learn fast, and you know that there will be an end some time."

"So you would say that you can only attain wisdom if you know that you will die?"

"Yes, sir."

And so I left the bar, contemplating all the things I had done and coming to the conclusion that I must, indeed, be a very poor bastard.


Paris, summer 2000

"You are a fool, my friend," Jacques exclaimed when I told him about my little conversation with Joe Dawson, "You told him about yourself. You told him about slaves. What do you think you are? Jesus?" He stroked back his glossy black hair and sneered as only a vampire can sneer.

Jacques was half lying on his chaise lounge, clad in black silk trousers and a dark red housecoat, one leg bent over the other, and his pale slim hand resting on his knee. With his noble Spanish profile, he looked like a marble statue clad by an artist gone mad. I liked to watch him, though. As fast as his movements can be, his gestures were presently slow and elegant. He closed his eyes for some seconds and then opened them again slowly, focussing on me and expecting an answer.

"I am safe," I said. "He is a good man, Jacques. He will understand. And he will not harm me. He knows MacLeod, and so I will find MacLeod through him."

"Yes, or he'll find you. I still think the whole idea is crazy. If it's just a fancy of yours, you will find the price too high, keep that in mind."

I came to sit by his side, "Do you worry about my well-being, friend?"

He put his other hand on my thigh, "No, Evranos. I want a mouthful of blood and a good blowjob. Thank you for asking."

I come from Ancient Egypt. I was the fifth son of a weaver. Later on, I used to tell people that I was son of a Pharaoh, and came to be Pharaoh myself for some time, but that is not true. I haven't even seen the Pharaoh as long as he lived, or any other guy that took his place after he died.

Long before, my parents were both killed in a fire, and their ten children sold into slavehood by our relatives, because they could not provide nourishment for us. Yes, I was a slave myself. I learned how to obey, and I had to work very hard long before adulthood. Whenever I come to Giseh, I see the pyramids and nobody would ever guess the thought I am thinking right then... I know how much those stones weigh, and I know what it looks like when human beings are crushed under one of them.
Because of my grey eyes and the brown hair, I stood out of the others. So, one day the keeper came and separated me from the others. He kept me for weeks and raped me whenever he felt like it. But he did not reckon on my deceitfulness, and he never came close to breaking me. In contrast to that, I slowly found out how much power I could have over him when I used my eyes and my voice and my hands. Over the months and years he came to like me, and that was his mistake.

One night I had everything ready for my revenge. He came to where he kept me and I greeted him full of devotion. You could not imagine what a deceptive smile I had! Then I started talking to him and massaged him until he relaxed. When I finally offered myself to him, he was almost grateful. Poor being! He took me until he was spent and then rolled off me. In his agitation he allowed me to bend over him and kiss his lips. I still remember him moaning when I opened my mouth under his kiss and he greedily met my tongue with his. Just imagine, he had grown fat over the years, but I was strong and young. I let my hands glide along his fatty arms until I reached the wrists, and there I held them while I bit off his tongue.

While I watched him choke on his blood, I felt a strange kind of excitement, and I realized I was heavily aroused. His breath was only shallow, so I turned him around and raped him until he was dead. I could leave the camp unnoticed, and I was far away before they found him.

For some time I found shelter at an old woman's place. I pretended to be starved and ill, and she cared for me lovingly. I should have been grateful, but I had lost all kind of emotions, and I did not even talk to her before I left again one night.
The next years are a haze in my memory. I remember the first time I took a head was in bed with my mentor... My way to wealth was full of deceit and spitefulness for the human race. However, I learned to love again, and my feelings would come back to me by and by. But not as strong as they were, never more.


To be continued...