The Champion [Sekah & BlueAmbient]

[Sekah]

He was coming today, and Karim was as excited as he was worried. He'd spent the entire afternoon awaiting his arrival cooking, his kitchen staff sitting back and watching him make dinners for the whole mansion with barely any help from anyone.

Karim's mansion was an unusual one, in the City. Its basement was a larder, not a catacomb for slaves. He didn't own any pleasure or fighting slaves personally, and had no real accommodations for them, honestly. At the strong encouragement of the procurer, concerned both for the young master's safety and what would be done to him if a slave he sold wrung the sweet boy's neck, he'd invested in a fine lock for the room he intended to be the gladiator's.

He didn't think he'd have to use it, though. There was no escape from the City—not for a slave. Surely the man knew that.

Oh, he did own slaves, of course. Hard not to, in the City. They were servants, all of them. None had ever been whipped or abused, nor shared Karim's bed, not even the pretty redhead Rose who had gone out of her way to let her master know she was interested and willing.

The fact that he could order her to do anything and she faced punishment if she disobeyed robbed him of any desire. He was saving himself for the right person, anyway.

All his slaves had guaranteed days off, and small stipends. A few had already bought their freedom. They'd stayed on, though, simply paid real wages instead. His slaves were well-fed and finely clothed. They wore no collars or chains.

He enjoyed it. Most houses the slaves dropped to a kowtow when you walked in. Nobody looked in your eyes, and you were lucky to get anything more than a, "Yes, milord." "Of course, milord." Or for a change, "I'll see, milord."

The laundrywomen and the kitchen staff talked to him and teased him in ways his sister, when visiting, thought most unbecoming.

"You're feeding them too much," she said. Sometimes, "You should whip them more. Slaves bite the hand that feeds them."

Karim just reminded her of the scars on his hand from that baby griffin he'd recovered from a merchant using him for his feathers. He'd nursed the fledgeling back to health until he could find its parents.

He'd found them, but the little terror had left lasting marks of its beak and claws on his hands for the privilege.

He was considered eccentric for his views—a bleeding heart. His parents tried to tell others that it was only because he was young—sixteen was an infant to immortals. But for all his sister and parents' wealth and prestige, he had nothing really expected of him, his wealth and status uniquely granted only by his family, and nothing of his own merits—he had the unlucky gift to have a rare but ultimately useless shifted form: a fennec fox. Not much good for anything but hugging, really. His sister was a hyena shifter, as was his mother. His father was a king cobra, massive in size, with deadly venom from his fangs.

In a city of gods and monsters, Karim was most stringently disadvantaged.

But Karim's newest slave and latest reclamation project was coming today.

Karim had seen him in his matches. He was breathtaking.

He also should have died last Thursday, and would have, if Karim hadn't stepped in and protected him, bought him up from under the executioner's axe.

Karim had laden a full dining table with the finest food and softest bread, trying to spend time until the man was delivered. He'd had so much time he'd finished the suckling pig and stuffed goose and built a castle out of marzipan.

"My lord," Abdul the doorman said, poking his head into the kitchens with a worried look on his heavy features, "he's here."

Karim practically skipped out to the front door. He waited impatiently for his footman to trot up behind him and open it, his mother's repeated screams throughout his childhood, You are a master of the Magdi house and will not preempt the footman like a common servant ringing in his ears.

He walked out, a smile on his handsome face. "Welcome!" he called. "I hope you're hungry."

 

[BlueAmbient]

Astra

Astra has been a gladiator for twelve years, literally half his life. He'd been sold into slavery at six years old by a father that just wanted money for another drug dose. At twelve, he'd been thrown into life as a gladiator. From there, his hatred had only built. No human had ever shown him kindness, and violence had fostered in his heart. Three days ago, he had broken gladiator law and killed another gladiator. Had cost a man his slave. Yes, gladiators fight for the glory of their masters, but to kill another gladiator is forbidden. Astra had had enough, and wanted death. So even when he'd won, had his opponent in a headlock, tapping out, Astra met his own master's eyes and snapped his opponent's neck.

Astra got bought out from under the executioner's blade not ten minutes later. His rage was apparent when he lashed out at the executioner and had to be escorted away by no less than six men. Now, today, he steps out of the steel slave coach bound in heavy chains and thick shackles. A thick leather strap is wrapped around his head, over his face. His eyes lock onto his new master, gaze burning like blue fire. Besides the chains and leather gag, he wears a thin white tunic and dark brown leather breeches. His feet are bare.

Two guards hold the end of the chains leading to his wrists and down to his ankles. A third weilds a spear, the tip aimed at Astra's back. Astra's former master keeps his distance, knowing how dangerous the twenty four year old man is. He steps forward to greet Karim. "Young sir, I won't back out of this delivery, but I urge you to take care. This man is dangerous, and won't hesitate to bring harm to your other slaves, or to you.

 

[Sekah]

Seeing him pulled out of the carriage, so large and incredibly well-restrained, Karim had a pause. He was much bigger up close, huge, with rippling muscle.

Karim smiled a tremulous smile. He was beginning to wonder if this man were salvageable—if he'd bought a reclamation project or just an attack dog who no longer knew how to do anything but bite.

Karim cocked his head like a curious puppy. "Well, if you beat a man, starve a man, and make him fight for his life, sir, he'll probably want to kill you. But I don't intend to do any of that. That's a promise," he told Astra, looking in his eyes with full sincerity.

"Kindly give me the keys to his bindings," Karim said, and ignored several more warnings and attempts to dissuade the boy from his course, before the seller gave up and mounted the wagon, which began to pull away.

"Would you like to come in and have something to eat, Mr. Astra?" Karim asked politely. Adding Mister to a slave's name was extremely unusual, but Karim thought he'd been debased enough already. "I'm Karim Mahmoud Magdi. You can call me Master Karim, if you'd like. Let's get you inside, get those off you, and you can see if you like what I made you."

"Come on inside, sir," he said.

The footman visibly reacted to that. A master calling a slave sir.

Karim bent down before Astra, despite an audible gasp from a passing serving girl who hadn't been with him long at the sight of a master kneeling before a slave. He reached for Astra's foot, to unlock him. He undid the right one, then the left. He reached up and cupped his big hands to unlock his wrists, still kneeling. Finally he stood and unfastened the collar and gag around his face.

He bundled up the fetters. The serving girl took them from him as he stood back up.

"Where do you want these put, Master?"

"I don't know, Anya. Um. Take them with the keys to my sitting room? When the blacksmith comes on Thursday to reshoe the horses I'll perhaps sell them to him."

She bowed and left to do that, and Karim jerked his head towards the door, beaming at Astra. "Let's go inside, sir! I made you quite a feast."

The main dining room awaited them. There, the table was laden with food, an entire feast that could feed fifty. Meat pies fresh from the oven with flakey crusts, heavy sausages crisp and hot on a bed of sautéed spinach, the stuffed goose and suckling pig stiff and tender, vegetables baked spoon-soft in savory sauces and tagines of lamb, chicken legs so soft and buttery the meat would fall off the bone, soft bread and sauces to dip it in, a thick soup of lentil and crab in a communal pot, sweetbreads studded with dates, a few small cakes and a bowl of berries in cream, and the marzipan castle, finely crafted. The good thing about having so many servants and guards and their families in the house was food was almost never wasted. But Astra would have first pick.

 

[BlueAmbient]

Astra is silent through the exchange, but the flex of his muscles show he's on edge. The monikers he's given, mister and sir, make him bristle. Despite Karim's attempts at civility, Astra only sees it as false security, like a bribe. He's sorely tempted to kick and strike the boy the moment his chains are removed. He does attempt to bite at the boy's hand once the gag is off, teeth snapping dangerously close.

He seems almost tame as he follows Karim through the house, but the fire in his eyes hints at his dangerous nature. He's been called a lost cause, a feral monster, his whole life. He fights like a wildcat, tooth and nail, and has no qualms about using his teeth to win fights. In truth, his mother, whom he never met, was a lynx shifter. But Astra had never shown signs of inheriting the shifter gene.

In the dining hall, the smells of various foods just make Astra feel sick. It's too much, too many smells, and the disgust shows on his face. Not that Astra was ever good at hiding his emotions. The six foot four inch blond refuses to move further into the hall beyond the door, even covering his nose as he gags. After years of subsisting on plain meats, breeds, and water, the mixed smells of succulent foods is overwhelming.

 

[Sekah]

He'd tried to bite him, for some reason. Karim wasn't sure if that was a joke, or not. Maybe he was right, and Astra was just an attack dog, not a man any longer. But Karim chided himself for that thinking. He just got here. Undoubtedly his life had been awful, up 'til this point. It would take time, had taken time for others, to feel safe, and secure.

The first step to earning trust is to give it.

So he lead Astra in, his guards staying noticeably close, hands on their weapons, only to watch him recoil and gag when they reached the dining room.

He wasn't sure why; the dining room smelled nice to him. He looked back at the feast he'd made, then up at the slave.

He realized in a rush that the man was probably starving, had probably been kept starving for a long time, and this food was too much for him. His big brown eyes widened further in sympathy. "If the food is too rich for your stomach, just stick to the bread, and I'll make some broth for you later; we'll build you back up to eating well," Karim told him, smiling up at him sweetly. "Do you want to be served somewhere else? I can send you to your room and have the bread and broth brought up later."

 

[BlueAmbient]

Distrust for the offered accommodations makes Astra growl, the sound vibrating low in his throat. He folds his arms over his chest, leaning his back against the wall beside the door. It's clear he's refusing to eat anything, yet also unwilling to go elsewhere. He would stay here while his new master ate, but having had the experience of being drugged with freely offered food many times before, Astra is unwilling to eat anything.

The former gladiator may have been fed plain foods, but given the muscled definition of his body, it would be unfair to say he was starved. A starved warrior doesn't win battles in the gladiator arena. Astra's metabolism had simply adjusted to taking the nutrition it needs from base foods. Unwilling to speak to his new master yet, Astra simply glares daggers at Karim, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

 

[Sekah]

The room soon filled with people, as the whole estate descended on the hall, slaves and free servants eating together, children running underfoot. Nobody was shy with the young master, but many were wary of the imposing gladiator in their midst.

Karim brought people up and tried to introduce them to Astra.

"This is Sara, the head cook."

"This is Raul, he's the head gardener. He knows every flower in the world, I swear!"

"This is Ibrahim. He's in charge of the stables and carriages. Ibrahim, we have to get Mister Astra something to wear that isn't slaves' garb. Tomorrow, will you have the carriage ready in the morning?"

"'Course, young master," Ibrahim said.

People extended their hands to Astra. Some smiled at him, often nervously. Many seemed more comfortable with their master or glad to retreat back to their seats. As Karim had known it wouldn't, the food didn't go to waste. The slaves and servants and their children all ate well and heartily.

The dinner took hours, since old man Badr pulled out his oud and there was singing and dancing, while Karim lay his head on the table pillowed on his arms and watched them all, talking less than usual and glancing at the newest member of the household.

People wished Karim goodnight, Astra too, but few bowed to Karim, most waving, and Karim had been included in the conversations around the table, arguments between two laundrywoman having been settled by them turning to Karim and angrily asking him what he thought. He tried to break up the quarrel and succeeded only in charming them both into forgetting their bad mood.

After the meal, Karim took Astra to his room himself, a brightly furnished place with big bay windows and a queen sized bed down the hall from Karim's, which Karim pointed out, telling him to come get him if he got hungry in the night, and he would like some broth, which seemed to have been weighing on the young master's mind all dinner. Karim looked up at him, beaming at him, big brown eyes and half-grown body, pretty right now and one day, he'd be handsome.

"Goodnight," he told him, rubbing his eyes, and turned to walk through his sitting room, into his dressing room and lavish bedroom, his manservant standing nearby, politely out of earshot, waiting to help the master change and wash up and prepare for bed.

 

[BlueAmbient]

Every introduction was met with glares and silence, and outright refusal to shake any offered hands. Children earned growls for trying to ask questions. At one point, someone tried to offer Astra a dinner bun by tossing it to him, and had been rewarded with the bun thrown back at their face, with force. Despite dinner being a jovial and long affair, Astra refuses to take part.

On the way to his room, one guard made the mistake of walking too close to Astra and bumped his arm. Astra retaliated immediately, shoving the guard hard enough against the wall for his head to bounce, leaving the man dazed. That's the extent of it, though, and Astra leaves the man to slump to the floor, conscious but winded.

In the bedroom made up for him, Astra paces like a caged wild animal once Karim leaves. He knows he has nowhere to go. Running away wouldn't mean death, only return, or resale. He might end up back in the arena, but he was bought away from death once, who's to say this obviously wealthy boy wouldn't do it again? Astra needs a good excuse to seek death. Yes, he wants death. At least then he would be free. In Astra's mind, all the freedom the slaves here have is given on false pretense; Astra doesn't believe it. So he paces, thoughts swarming his head, searching for something, anything.

 

[Sekah]

Astra dismissed Karim more than Karim dismissed Astra. And that poor guard - Karim was trying to think of a way to approach Astra about that. But all he kept coming back to was safety. Astra didn't feel safe - of course he didn't - so he lashed out. In Karim's mind, the remedy wasn't a punishment, but attempting to make him feel safe.

Something pressed against Karim's consciousness, some awareness of danger; but he ignored it, put it out of his head.

The man was new. He'd suffered far too much. People had come here untrusting before. Karim had been able to help them; he would help Astra. Time would make the difference.

His manservant helped him through his toilette, the teenager impatient and absent minded. Karim kept humming a song he'd heard from a troubadour in the market. The words never came, but it had a lively rhythm. He felt exhausted, not listening at all to his manservant telling him what time his tutor would be here tomorrow, nor his fencing instructor, nor his riding instructor.

The manservant would usually have slept in a cot in Karim's sitting room, but Karim positively banished him to the servant's quarters, where his wife was with their newborn baby. Karim hated that Szymon had insisted on working today - he was needed by his family, not Karim, and Karim would drill that into his brain if he had to.

It was a hot night in summer, and the sheets on the bed were too much for Karim, as was his nightgown, which ended up hitched above his waist, almost over his head. In his sleep, he'd shifted partially, two ears the color of sand, far too large for his head, lax above his head, a tail like spun cotton behind him, soft as kitten's fluff.

He hugged a pillow with his head rested on more, the back of his ribs gently rising and falling, his eyes and face soft and guileless with sleep.

 

[BlueAmbient]

Half the night has passed before Astra realizes it. The more he paces, the more restless he becomes. But the idea brewing in the back of his mind becomes a solidified plan. Kill this new master, and maybe the death of the young lord would result in his execution. Yes, that could work.

Astra strides to the bedroom door, fully prepared to rip it off the hinges. So he's surprised to find it unlocked. This new master is too trusting. Far too trusting, Astra realizes, when he finds no guards outside Karim's bedroom. Inside, Astra closes the door behind himself and approaches the bed. He's fully prepared to strangle the young lord to death.

What Astra is not prepared for is the way his body reacts to seeing the half boy stretched out on the bed, with ears and a tail. The moonlight washes across Karim's skin from the uncurtained window. The sight makes Astra pause, but his resolve to gain death remains. His plan changes; rape of a master is equally banned, and just as likely to bring about Astra's execution.

Astra kneels on the bed, one large hand turning Karim fully on his stomach, the other unbuttoning his leather breeches, which are suddenly too tight across his groin. Astra doesn't care that the boy is sleeping, it makes no difference. His knees push Karim's thighs wide, hands pulling the boy's arms behind his back to grip his wrists in one hand.

 

[Sekah]

The hand clamped over his wrists, and for a moment, he didn't register it as a restraint, too tired, too unused to the idea of attack and defense. He gently cupped the wrist of the hand restraining him in a soft, gentle hold. He nuzzled into the covers, slow to wake, but his grip was uncomfortable and eyes the color of new trees in the forest opened and looked up at Astra, puzzlement turning to startled horror and then finally to terror. A whimper escaped him, confusion building to horror on those soft lips and a face free of stubble, too young still to grow a beard. Karim grabbed Astra's wrist in supplication, the sheets starting to rustle as his thighs started to tremble.

His breath rushed through his nostrils. His body was so small and fragile that it would take only the smallest exertion for a hardened warrior like Astra to break bones one by one. His back was turned to Astra. Heaving ribs and sudden beads of new sweat fell down his narrow shoulders. A small adam's apple bobbed in a swallow. Goosebumps ran down his neck, into the narrow band covered by his nightshirt, already hitched up as high as it could go. His sandy tail poking out of his underwear, blue briefs, tucked between his legs, like a kicked dogs'.

"Astra, stop," he whispered, his instinct not to scream, but to try to talk to him. "This isn't a good idea," he pleaded. He wondered if this was a nightmare.

 

[BlueAmbient]

Any other slaves might have obeyed Karim's command to stop, but Astra sought the punishment of death. What better way to bring it about than the sweet corruption of his new master's body? Astra's right hand grips the fabric of Karim's briefs, and a sharp yank tears it away, the shreds falling to the floor. That same hand grips the base of Karim's tail, pulling to lift the boy up to his knees, thighs still spread wide.

Astra's left hand gripping Karim's wrists at his back press down, keeping the young lord's chest pressed to the bed, even as his ass is now up in the air. Astra growls, baring his teeth like some wild beast. He spits, but it's barely enough to be any sort of lubrication.

Astra is huge by most standards, a thick nine inches. There's no gentleness as his hard cock breaches Karim's body, forced past the tight ring of muscle. Pain follows as sensitive skin tears, and blood creates better lubrication than Astra's saliva had. Astra can smell the blood, but he doesn't care. Adding injury to insult raises his chances of execution. He keeps going until all nine inches are buried in the small boy's body.

 

[Sekah]

Thin, ragged whimpers, no different from an animal's, left Karim's mouth. He felt the heat of his cock, the rhythm of his pulse. Astra was alive.

But he wouldn't be by midday tomorrow.

Whether he killed Karim or not, he wouldn't escape. He could kill every person in this mansion, and he wouldn't escape. People here had lovers, business, family, there were appointments tomorrow, Karim's tutor, his riding instructor, his fencing instructor, all three powerful magical beings.

By evening tomorrow, Astra would be dead.

That fact hit him and he paused rather sharply, inhaling in a gasp that cooled his throat and held it. Astra tore off his underwear, and Karim began to breathe again.

If Astra hadn't known he was a master, he might have believed he had, by mistake, found himself employing a courtesan of the highest order, as Karim's sister owned a couple of. You'd believe that, but his wriggling rear tensed up instead of relaxing when Astra started bluntly lined up his cock and began forcing him open, as anyone with the slightest knowledge or training would know not to do. Unwillingness, inexperience, and the tightness of his muscles made Astra's battering a horror for Karim.

But he didn't lose sight of his focus.

His voice breaking with nerves, he asked, "Astra, why do you want to die?" His words hung in the air between them, his snot and tears smeared into the muffling pillows, his ears lowered and his tail tucking despite the hand yanking it to hide his pink hole.

The heavy head of his cock was wielded, the point of a ram lined up with Karim's soft pink hole to batter it open and take the city inside. This was what Astra thought, wasn't it? That the hole of Karim's young body was the gate to the city, and this one action was throwing it open and finally, after years of trying, tearing it down?

Yet for Karim, he didn't see himself as a city, in metaphor and practice. He saw himself only writ small, as a mind scattered by panic trapped in soft flesh and nerve endings already crying out useless warnings to his nervous system that reverberated through his body in waves of pain.

Astra pushed his hips but Karim was too small, too young, too unwilling, his body slid up without his hole yielding. Karim's eyes flew open, veins standing out in them and on his body, like a fish's, and marking Astra with panic as he tried to gasp in honking breaths, throat tightened by fear.

Astra's thrust forward reverberated through Karim's whole body, a shudder matching it, from the tips of his fingers to the bottom of his toes.

Astra pushed and finally Karim opened, not through stretching, but through tearing. Karim's shoulders rattled against the baseboard, Astra's attack having forced them both up until Karim's body had nowhere left to retreat and he was sandwiched between Astra's muscular body and the intricate carvings of his headboard against his front. Karim's hips were buckled in a pitiful attempt to escape, his trembling thighs pulled over Astra's and his tail curled between his legs a soft extra massage against Astra's balls and hips, the base of his cock and his groin as he pushed into him.

Astra ground inside his body, his virginity gone and making a mess of blood and spittle onto the sheets.

 

[BlueAmbient]

Astra ignores Karim's questioning. What's the point in answering, when he'll be dead by the next afternoon? No, Astra brushes aside his master's words with a feral growl, pulling the boy's tail upright to keep his ass in the air. No time is given for Karim's body to adjust to the hard cock buried within.

Astra pulls his hips back, only to buck them forward again, hard and fast. Blood makes the movement slick, and Karim's tightness makes Astra groan. Again and again, hard and fast, the former warrior drives into the young lord's body. No care is taken to his wellbeing, to Karim's pleasure. Astra is taking out years of anger and hatred on this boy.

There's no thoughts behind the fury burning in Astra's blue eyes. Just feral rage. His muscles flex as he plows his cock into Karim, over and over. It seems forever, the pain likely blurring time. In reality, it's barely more than fifteen minutes before the vicious rhythm changes. Astra leans his weight into each powerful thrust, shorter, pressing harder still. Then he groans heavily, and slams his cock to the depths of Karim's body. A rush of wet heat spills forth, as Astra empties his seed into the young lord. His hips jerk through his orgasm, leaning heavily to grind hard against the boy.

 

[Sekah]

The yanking at his tail gives his back a sultry arch. At times, Karim was almost suspended by his tail, and it hurts - nearly dislocated the furry appendage. But it hung on.

Karim hung on, too. He felt trapped in his small body, trapped in his stinking sweat, trapped beneath Astra like he never had been before. He cried bitterly, his sheath aching like it was on fire. He was a hot, tight, wet massage around Astra's thick cock.

Karim thought it would never end. But he dreaded the end - there was nothing, nothing to stop Astra killing him when he was done.

But still, Karim didn't scream. He didn't howl for help. He whimpered, and moaned, and sobbed bitterly - but he didn't cry out loud enough to even be heard from the hallway.

He was wrestling with it - what Astra was making him do. To kill him. It was against Karim's religion to kill for any reason. And Karim himself didn't like it - didn't like execution, didn't like taking away a man's chance at redemption.

He wanted to give Astra redemption, he wanted it like a burning in his gut. He told himself God had a plan for him, and it included this rape.

Blood dripped in little rivers down his pert, pretty thighs. His ass and the meat of his thighs rippled under every brutal thrust. Karim hoped it'd get easier, that he'd get used to it, but he didn't. It just hurt in new and different ways every oncoming minute.

Finally, Astra pushed in, and ground against his hips, breeding Karim deep and thick. Karim whined as the cum gave a salt bath to his inner wounds.

It felt like hours before he was done. Karim had masturbated a few times, not much. He knew what the sticky liquid graffitiing his insides was.

He was grinding inside him so rough, and Karim's whole hole was stinging, throbbing, aching. Deep inside, Karim hurt like he'd never hurt before, in all his small, sheltered life.

His wrecked breathing finally coalesced into words. "Astra," he told him, his voice shaking with fear, "death isn't the only answer to pain. Other people have come here - in pain and - and sometimes, have wanted death. But - they've been able to find new meaning and reasons to live. Please, Astra."

He didn't know how ludicrous he sounded - a sheltered sixteen-year-old boy trying to lecture a grown man on life and what it offered. A boy in the midst of rape offering solace to his rapist.

A tear dangled off the bridge of his nose, and dripped off. "Please don't kill me." He nearly whispered it, soft and yearning as a prayer to his god.

 

[BlueAmbient]

Even without screams or cries for help, Karim's sobs had been satisfying to Astra's ears. As he leans into the boy in the end, though, the young lord's pleading and placations are met with more growls. Astra pulls from Karim's injured body, right hand half tossing his tail, and subsequently his hips, sideways. His left hand releases Karim's wrists, only to sink into his master's hair and pull roughly, lifting Karim's torso from the bed.

Astra pulls his master's face in front of his own, teeth bared and blue eyes burning with hatred. Then he speaks for the first time, in a deep voice that's ragged and rough from years without use, cracking between words. "Your slaves know nothing of hardship. You know nothing, hiding in your mansion. Don't speak like you know anything."

Astra throws Karim roughly down on the bed, then uses the sheets to clean the blood from his cock. He fixes himself into his pants, then spits on the bed next to Karim's face before turning and leaving the bedroom. Karim is left in a bloody mess of sheets. Astra returns to the room given to him and takes his remaining anger out on the furniture; things are thrown against walls to shatter, curtains torn from their hangings, the bed stripped and mattress flipped off the frame. Eventually, anger subsiding, Astra settles himself on the bare wooden window seat, staring blankly out the window until dawn breaks.

 

[Sekah]

Karim cried for a while. Hours, in fact, after Astra left.

He wrestled with it. Went back and forth, pros and cons.

Astra could hurt someone else. Any of them being hurt by Astra was Karim's fault, if he didn't report this to the proper authorities, now.

But if he could just keep everyone else safe, maybe he could - maybe he could still help Astra. Maybe he didn't have to die. Astra's quarrel wasn't with anyone else in this manse. It was with Karim, because he was a master, a noble, upper-class. So - so he could persuade him that the others weren't his enemy.

But Karim didn't feel like his enemy either, even after his dignity and virginity were torn away tonight. He didn't feel like he was any man's enemy. But his empathy too readily allowed him to take the perspective of a man who'd hurt him worse than anyone else had in his young, frivolous life.

Just before dawn, Karim came to his conclusion.

Karim slid out from between the warm, reeking covers and limped around the bed, holding the wall for balance. More blood had dripped down and painted the curve of his buttocks in the night. He opened a chest with delicate engravings at the bottom and pulled out a small vial. He pinched his nose and drank it. A moment later, he moaned in satisfied relief as his wounds faded to only twinges and aches, no longer feeling wave upon wave of excruciating pain.

He dressed himself, his movements intentional.

He lit a fire in the fireplace and nursed it until it burned big and hearty. With some difficulty, having never stripped his own bed before, he got all the covers and the torn, bloody clothes and burned them.

The fireplace was designed to remove ash to the middens. He kept carefully tending the fire.

When his maid came to stoke the fire, he admitted he'd wet the bed to her in a horrified and embarrassed whisper. She singlehandedly replaced the sheets, promising her sweet master she'd tell no one. Luckily, the blood hadn't penetrated the mattress topper to the mattress. He didn't know what he would have done if it had.

Karim brought a fresh pair of clothes to the heated baths on the first level. He asked a footman to keep everyone out while he soaked.

He put clean clothes on with the same careful deliberation.

He didn't break down and cry, the strange numbness eating him up inside, until he went to the kitchens.

The cooks were very concerned, but he was able to pretend he'd just had a bad dream. He made breakfast for everyone, but Astra didn't come down from his room. That was good, that was okay, it gave Karim time to think about what he had to say to him. The teenager made a luxurious breakfast, waffles glazed in sugar with caramel sauce and whipped cream, ice cream for some.

He gave it over to the cooks, who continued the order, but what he took up to Astra, he made himself. He made the four liege waffles to golden perfection. He loaded the vanilla ice cream on top. He drizzled it over with the hot caramel sauce. He sliced up strawberries. He topped it off with whipped cream.

Then he put it on a tray, and his nose shifted—a little fox's snout. He'd sniff Astra out. Hopefully, the slave hadn't run off.

 

[BlueAmbient]

At some point Astra had amanaged to fall asleep, knees pulled to his chest, forehead resting against the cool glass of the window. He knew there was nowhere he could go, it's why he sought death. After so many years of pain and torture and torment, death was all he wanted. And violence was all he knew. Violence and blood. He feels no guilt over what he'd done to his new master; this was just another prison. One with a pretty face and sweet words, but a prison nonetheless.

Astra sleeps incredibly light, so as soon as the bedroom door clicks open, he's on his feet, blue eyes narrowed. His muscles are flexed, ever ready to lash out. The bedroom is destroyed; broken furniture and torn fabric everywhere. There's even a crack in one window pane, but Astra had thought better of shattering the window. His blue eyes narrow further upon seeing Karim, teeth baring. Then his eyes fall to the plate of food. He doesn't know what it is, but it smells good. Not that he would ever take food from the young lord. For all Astra knows, it could be poisoned, and he prefers a quick death over death by poison.

 

[Sekah]

Astra's muscles tight and flexing, Karim shivered. He remembered those muscles flexing that way, before his eyes, as he pounded into Karim's innocent body. His knees felt weak; he nearly swooned.

He stood at the open door trembling and remembered he was resolved to help this man see life as worth living. It seemed a grand and noble goal. Because of that, he spoke softly.

"Where do you want your breakfast, Astra?" He looked around, but anything that could have held a tray was horizontal on the floor. "I guess I'll put it on the bed."

He deposited it there, chewing on his lip thoughtfully as he shut the door behind him.

A normal conversation with this man felt—weird. Very, very weird. He'd closed the door. His breath tripped. Oh, Astra might—

No, he wasn't an animal. Karim could talk him out of this suicidal, destructive bent, surely. Surely.

"Astra, I've got to talk to you," he said, and his eyes lowered in shame at the note of pleading in his own voice.

He wanted Astra to see reason. To not have to offer what he'd decided he would.

He was small and soft, his thick brown curls and button nose all you could see of his face, his chin tucked to chest.

 

[BlueAmbient]

Astra growls, not wanting the young lord in his space. He'd hoped last night's events would prove he wanted nothing to do with Karim, or this life. But from the boy's tone, it's clear he isn't giving up. So when Karim says he wants to talk, Astra picks up the nearest object, a chunk of wood broken off the bedframe, and hurls it in Karim's direction.

It's a warning shot, and narrowly misses Karim's head, slamming against the closed door behind him. If Astra had wanted that to hit Karim, it would have. The next thrown item wouldn't miss. "I don't want to speak to you. You only prolong my suffering." Astra's voice is still rough, and would be for some time. He coughs once, throat irritated by speech when it hasn't been used in so long.

 

[Sekah]

Karim flinched when the wood struck the door, the air of it nipping his cheek. Karim looked up at him, earnest and yearning, like a puppy looking for affection from a cruel master. He bit his lip, trying to figure out his plan of attack.

"Astra - " he said. He tried really hard to push himself to argue like Leyla did - cool, rational, apart from emotion. " - I know you want me to have you executed. But isn't there something - anything that would change your mind? Maybe I'm naïve, maybe I don't know enough about life to understand you or your desires, but - but - "

He bit his lip, terrified of what he was proposing. "You must really want revenge." He understood enough about Astra's thought process to understand that. "Maybe if you got some, you'd feel better? Do you think?"

Karim looked down at his shirt, clutching it in both hands, as if in resistance to an attempt to tear it off him. He took in a deep breath, clenching his eyes closed, and said, "If you want - as long as it's me, and only me - I'll let you have your revenge. On me, you know." His reluctance to offer this was clear on his face.

 

[BlueAmbient]

Astra is listening, but it's with that same guarded demeanor. Something else he wants other than death? No, not really, nothing Astra can think of. But as Karim continues speaking, Astra's eyes narrow. Revenge, on the young lord? Use him as a vent against all the cruelties dealt to Astra over his lifetime? It's not the end result Astra wants, but it could be an excuse.

Astra can tell the boy is terrified of what he's offering, but the offer is out there now. Astra strides across the room, his large hand landing center on Karim's chest, shoving him hard backwards against the door. Astra snaps his teeth in front of Karim's face, his voice a growl. "I will break you. And when I'm through with you, you will want me dead." It's not exactly a direct acceptance, but it's an acceptance nonetheless.

Astra growls again, then roughly pushes away from the boy, leaving him standing against the door. He walks back over to the window, sitting on the windows eat with his back to the frame and one knee pulled up. "Get out. Leave me alone."

 

[Sekah]

Karim watched Astra cross the room in ground-eating strides. He tensed when he came close, afraid Astra had decided to kill Karim, and ensure he got the execution he was looking for.

Astra's hand spread over Karim's narrow chest, and shoved him back. The wood knocked the breath out of Karim, the door panels digging cruelly into his back. Karim's whole body was stiff with dread.

I will break you. And when I'm through with you, you will want me dead. Karim gasped, just glad to be alive, even if he'd made this awful bargain.

It's going to be okay, he promised himself. This gives you time to find out what needs to happen to help Astra.

As Astra crossed the room, Karim's knees were shaking visibly, but when Astra barked at him, Karim nodded. That he could do.

"Thank you, Mr. Astra," he whispered, unable to hide how little he wanted to make this bargain.

He fled from the room, after that, going to his own down the hall to catch his breath, and recover from his shaking. Last night had been horrible, and he'd just agreed to do that whenever Astra wanted.

But if it kept a man alive -

- then surely that would be worth it.

He was summoned an hour or two later by a servant fetching him for his tutoring lesson. He hadn't eaten any breakfast himself, though he'd made it for everyone else, and went down to the kitchen first to grab leftover waffles and caramel sauce and have a far less sumptuous meal than he'd given his errant slave.

They had the lesson out in the garden, since his handsome and funny tutor Ahmed claimed he needed some sun. Ahmed was kind enough to let Karim eat during it, leaving unremarked the fact that Karim hadn't eaten a meal on time not for a religious fast for probably the first time in his young life, certainly since Ahmed had first known him when he was eleven.

 

[BlueAmbient]

Astra grits his teeth when Karim calls him mister. He doesn't like the way that sounds, like the boy is suddenly swaying to his commands. He would rather just be Astra. Titles are like poison; they give people power, power to control others, to get away with cruelty and torture. Yes, Astra had just been given figurative keys to cruelty towards his new master. But that doesn't mean he wants Katim treating him like a master.

Only a few minutes pass before Astra's stomach growls. He tries to ignore it at first, but he hasn't eaten in three days. It may only be his second day here, but his previous master had refused to feed him leading up to the change of ownership.

Astra looms toward the plate of food sitting on the bedframe. After another moment's hesitation, he walks over and picks it up, sniffing it. It smells sweet. Too sweet, but Astra is hungry. Using his fingers, as he's accustomed to, Astra eats the waffles. The ice cream is half melted, so he soaks up what he can with the waffles and ignores the rest.

It's entirely too much sugar, and while it did taste good, Astra spends the remainder of the morning feeling sick from the richness of the food.

 

[Sekah]

The lesson finished, and it was time for lunch. Karim burst in to help finish it with the cooks. He liked this work - he liked it very much. Making food for someone was, to him, an incredibly tender act. It was his love language, his favorite way of showing affection.

They were making a clam chowder with potatoes and corn, baking fresh crackers. He'd been busy with his tutoring, so most of it was done by his kitchen staff, but he polished it off and refined the seasonings himself.

He wanted Astra to eat - he'd been eating very little, Karim didn't even know if he touched breakfast - so when the food was prepared and the big cauldrons of chowder were out with ladles and bowls for everyone to help themselves as much as they wanted, Karim went to get Astra.

He stood outside the door to his room, wondering if he was still in here, squirming and wringing his hands.

He knew what he'd offered, and he'd meant it, but he didn't want to - you know, draw Astra's attention and invite it. But his good heart won out - he didn't want Astra to be hungry - and he knocked firmly on the door.

Rap rap rap. "Mr. Astra," he said. "Um. We're having lunch. Do you want to come down? Or do you want me to bring you something up?"