They laughed, and raw anger clouded Marius’ mind. He grabbed a bottle of oil from the nightstand and poured a generous amount into his palm, rubbing it on the slave’s backside, mortified in the cloud of his mind that he was aroused, and he slammed into him, making him cry out. He fucked him then, hard, not caring, fueled by his anger, his father’s words, anger swelling at his own weakness, grunting, moaning.
Kyle whimpered softly, more shocked emotionally than from the pain. He was used to that, and the oil helped somewhat, but it still hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut, panting, wishing Marius would just finish. Kyle felt Marius’ hips jerk harder, and Marius came inside of him, grunting.
Marius stilled, in a daze, and pulled out, letting Kyle slip to the floor, the slave’s back drenched, cum seeping out of him. He sat on the floor, very still, softly panting, and Marius fought the urge to scoop him up. Instead, he pushed his anger to the front, dressing, his voice hard. “I am your dominus now.”
Kyle pushed the words out, soft, his voice quivering with the shock. “Yes, dominus.”
Marius whirled and left him, banging the door open, and his father clasped his shoulder, grinning. “Son! I am most impressed.”
Clavius watched his friend, livid, his eyes darting to the prone slave. Marius nodded to his father, bile rising in his throat, and he hurried downstairs, followed by them, to check on the slaves his father had bought.
Later, when the slaves had been settled, and his father and Clavius had left, Marius decided to go back to his room.
Kyle had already cleaned himself and the floor up, his drained face empty of emotions, his thoughts bitter. He had thought for a fleeting moment that Marius would be different and his throat tightened. Of course, Marius was a Roman, and Kyle scolded himself for believing in his kindness.
Kyle didn’t care about being sore, but his heart ached. He busied himself though and tidied the room, putting Marius’ clothes away when Marius walked in and Kyle froze, dropping to his knees, his arms stretched out in front of him, palms up, his forehead pressed to the cold marble of the floor.
Marius watched him in the ultimate submissive pose of slaves and his heart wrenched, but he steeled himself and walked to him. “Get up.”
Kyle did, clenching his jaw at the pain, standing as best he could, and Marius tipped his chin up, looking into his eyes. “There’s a room for you in the slaves’ quarters. When I need you, I’ll ring you.”
“Yes, dominus.”
Marius wanted to ask him whether he was in pain, but his father’s words rang in his ears. “Go and stay there tonight.”
Kyle nodded, fighting his tears. On top of the humiliation and assault, he was now rejecting him. He left on shaky legs, fighting the urge to run, and went straight to the slaves’ quarters, Marius’ father’s old slave showing him his room, a small space with a single bed. Kyle sat down, closing the door, first time ever alone, in his own room. He curled up, his knees in his stomach, fighting his pain, and his tears flowed.
Kyle had lunch later with the others, not talking, all of them silent, grim, and the older slave distributed their tasks. Kyle had to help with the washing, and he didn’t mind, working with another slave girl who was new. She was crying a lot, sniffling, wiping her tears, but he didn’t know what to tell her so just kept working, the mindless physical task a blessing to keep his mind off his thoughts and keep his body drained.
When they were done, the old slave, Sixtus, came to get him. “Dominus wants you in his room. Can you wrap a toga on?”
Kyle nodded and left, his stomach in a knot. He knocked and waited to be called in, kneeling straight away, but Marius was irritated and snapped. “Get up, for gods’ sake, and put this on me!”
He gestured to the toga on the bed and Kyle rose, picking it up, expertly wrapping it around him, arranging the folds. It was exhausting after having done the washing, the material heavy, and Marius was taller than the average Roman, which made it even more difficult. Kyle clenched his jaw, though, and made sure it was perfect. He had learnt this the hard way with Lucius and mastered it to a point where he had even received a compliment from him, once.
Marius watched Kyle work in the mirror, his emotions raging inside of him, regretting what he’d done in the morning but knowing he could not apologize, ever.
Finally, Kyle stepped back, and Marius looked at his work, amazed.
He smiled, turning to the slave. “I think I’ve never had anybody put this on me so well. It even feels comfortable, which is a rare treat.” He sighed. “I need to leave to attend the Emperor’s reception and won’t be back until late. Wait for me here, I’ll need you when I come home.”
“Yes, dominus.”
“And don’t wait kneeling. You can sit or just sleep a bit.”
Kyle nodded, swallowing, and followed Marius out of the room.
He still had kitchen duty and then dinner. He also decided to clean the bedroom out and wash down the terrace, which had seen better days.
Busy all afternoon, he finished at sunset and went for dinner, his body and mind drained, dreading the night. He could predict Lucius after all those years. The older man had had his habits and routines despite his temper flares, but Kyle had known what to expect, consistently, even if it had been mostly unpleasant. With Marius, he was lost. Kindness one moment, then violence, his constant brewing anger, then nothing. Kyle would have preferred Marius being consistent, but he had no choice, and he didn’t even know about punishments. With Lucius, it had been clear from the start.You do this; you get this. He had known it and had tried to avoid it as best as he could, but here... He had no idea, and it threw him in a state of vague anguish.
He waited, watching the sunset on the sparkling clean terrace, Rome below, the city beastlike, stretched between the hills. He sat down in the room on the floor, near the bed, and waited, his back to it, the night slowly stretching, his eyelids heavy.
He must have slumbered, but Kyle woke with a start when he heard footsteps, and knew Marius was back. The night was pitch black outside, possibly in the darkest hours, and he kneeled, waiting. Marius entered, his eyes darting to him, but he didn’t need to talk, Kyle was on his feet, walking to him, wordlessly taking his toga down, carefully folding away the heavy material.
Marius undressed and grabbed his arm. “Bathe me first.”
They walked to the bath and Kyle bathed him, anxiously noticing that he was swaying a bit, his breath smelling of wine. Back to the room, Kyle continued folding the toga and Marius collapsed on the bed, utterly drained by the party’s civilities, the endless chatter, and blaring music. He also had too much to drink, and his eyes focused on Kyle’s lean frame, folding the toga away, stashing it into a trunk carefully.
