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The Champion [Sekah & BlueAmbient]

Karim's breath caught as Astra began striding towards him, the bath swishing around his hips. His eyes had changed, something in them dark and hungry. Nobody had ever looked at Karim like that before, and his shoulders began to shake.

Astra was right in front of him, his bulging pecs in Karim's face. He knelt below him. His mouth was near Karim's cock, which traitorously twitched. Karim had his hands clasped in front of him like he was praying.

Astra pulled him off his feet. He fell into the bath with a terrific splash, finding when the dizzying moment was over he'd been pulled so he straddled Astra's lap.

Karim's arms pressed tight to Astra's chest. He moved them to Astra's broad, scarred shoulders, and tucked his wet curls in the hollow of Astra's throat. Karim was trembling pitifully, remembering the burning agony of last night. His whole body tensed - including his hole, which clenched up tight. He knew no more about sex than he had the night before. No longer a virgin, his mind and understanding remained virginal.

Karim's knees vibrated against Astra's hips from how hard he was shaking. It made the water slosh around their torsos.
 
Astra runs his hands up Karim's back, feeling the way his body trembles. The fear feeds Astra's need to dominate the young lord; fear in a helpless sense is so much more satisfying than fear in a controlling sense. "I scare you." Astra's voice rumbles above Karim's head. "Good. You should be scared."

Astra wraps his left arm around Karim's waist, lifting him up. His other hand steadies his own cock, guiding it as he brings the young lord down. As the night before, Astra pushes past Karim's tight ring of muscle, invading his body harshly. He grunts at the tightness of Karim's body, pulling him down, down, until Karim is seated deeply on his hard cock. Astra's cock bulges Karim's lower abdomen in this position.
 
Karim's back arches under Astra's hands, a noise embarrassingly close to a squeak leaving him.

I scare you. Good. You should be scared.

Karim opened his mouth to respond to that, but didn't know what to say, so his pink lips were still wide when Astra's arm wrapped around him, preparing him. Astra lined up his cock, and no sooner was the smooth head against Karim's still-tight hole than he was pulling him down onto it, spearing him. A noise of pure agony trickled out of Karim, thready and high-pitched. Astra's cock throbbed inside him like it was enraged. Karim clenched his eyes closed and tried to take the brutal straining of his soft, hot inner walls. He had to tear a bit to do it - the water helped a bit over last night, but no replacement for real lubrication. But he wasn't as badly torn as last night, at least not yet, and though there was deep, harsh aches and sharp, stabbing aches, he knew now he could survive it.

His breath came out in a whine, like a hurt dog, tears standing boldly in his eyes and easy to mistake for bathwater. He reached down and both his hands clung to Astra's rough paw, wrapped around that dainty, tiny waist. That way, he attempted to hold Astra's hand while he raped him.

His head bowed below Astra, showing him his delicate neck, his blushing, sagging shoulders.

The bump of Astra's cock was easily visible in his stomach, a tiny little hump that moved with Astra. Astra really was too big for the boy by far.
 
The sounds Karim makes cause Astra to shudder. It's like tortured music to the warrior's ears. Now, it's not Astra making sounds of pain. Now, it's the master that owns him, that owns his life. Astra moves, thrusting up against Karim despite the boy being fully seated on his cock. The tightness feels good, Karim's body hugging and flexing around him.

Astra leans his head down and bites Karim's bare left shoulder, teeth digging into soft flesh. He doesn't break skin, but there would be a definite dark bruise in an hour. Astra pulls his hand from Karim's, instead grasping the curves of the young lord's ass in both hands. He uses this harsh grip to move Karim, raising and lowering his hips in time with the hard thrusts of his own. The water splashes around them, but Astra is easily able to maintain his balance half sitting on his knees.
 
"Mn. Mn!" Karim whimpered while Astra thrust his broad hips up into the slight teenage boy. His thick cock bumped and ground in the sheath as fit, hot and snug as a glove around Astra's pulsing cock. It wasn't as sharp as last night, but it still hurt, and another broken whimper left Karim's mouth.

Karim still shook, and squirmed in Astra's arms, moving his body in repetitive little patterns like a hurt dog, circling. Astra took his hand away from Karim's, and Karim felt bereft.

Karim's ass was slim enough that Astra's hand could encompass nearly a whole cheek. Karim felt like he was surrounding him. His shoulder ached. The serpentine curve of his back shuddered pitifully as Astra began really fucking him, using the grip on his ass to pull him down onto his cock. Karim's soft flesh rippled with the thrusts.

He curled over, His head hanging down, his wet curls drooping by his face, and used both hands to cover his face, embarrassed. He had never had his first kiss, and they were doing this. This wasn't how he expected it to be with his partner. When he'd imagined someone - usually his handsome teacher, Ahmed - his mind had been fairly innocent. He'd imagined soft, tender kisses. He'd imagined being held, holding their hand. Sex was a nebulous idea, he'd never seen someone having sex, and a good boy, he didn't read those kinds of books.

He wondered if it was normal to bleed like this, the threads of red floating in the water.

Astra's thrusts hurt, and Karim began to be close to really screaming, for the first time. Feeling the wail pressuring the back of his throat, Karim abruptly bit his forearm to stifle it. He sunk his teeth into it and managed to muffle his scream. But he bit so hard blood began to drip down his bicep like vermilion brooks. He wailed plaintively, and began to sob, keeping his teeth latched on his arm. His other arm went down to feel where his body hurt, on his abdomen, gasping as his hands ran over that moving bump in his flesh where Astra was raping him.
 
Astra grunts, thrusting hard. His eyes are half closed, body and mind focused on the sensation of Karim's body encasing his throbbing cock. The boy's wails make him shudder; such sweet sounds of pain. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of Karim's ass.

Astra smells blood and lifts his head, releasing Karim's shoulder. He spots the blood on the boy's arm and, growling, moves his left hand up to sink fingers into Karim's hair. He pulls hard, pulling his head back. When Karim gasps and releases his arm from his teeth, Astra pauses his thrusting long enough to catch that arm in his right hand, twisting it behind Karim's back.

Astra keeps hold of Karim's hair, keeping his head pulled back. His teeth graze exposed throat, before biting hard where his neck meets the right shoulder. His hips buck hard, pushing up into Karim yet again. He wants to hear the boy cry out, to scream. He wants to dominate this young lord that took away his last chance at death.
 
Things moved fast. Things were sudden. One moment, he was biting his arm, the next, the man was hauling on his hair. It hurt, pinpricks of agony and a tearing feeling that made him fear he was being scalped. He lost his grip on his arm, and then next thing he knew, it was hauled behind his back.

Restrained by his hands, confused, in pain, Karim wept and cried out freely. He was caught in the moment, as Astra dug his teeth into his throat.

Karim wailed plaintively, his voice resounding off the high, tiled walls of the bath. Karim wasn't thinking of who heard them, what they'd think, what they might do to Astra. He was small, in his head, ridden with panic, hearing his racing heart and buzzing pulse. Wishing for a reprieve - no longer thinking straight - only really aware of Astra. Of his breath, his restraining hands, the way he arched Karim's elegant neck and supped on it, before sinking his teeth in like a dog with a chew toy. Tears clumped on Karim's lashes. He was blushing cherry red with shame and pain and a slight fever brought on by the stress and damage compiling in his body.

It made him flushed and hot as a furnace inside, his fight to keep himself alive only making Astra's ride more exquisite. He clenched hard on Astra's cock, holding it tight and deep inside him, his own hole resisting the out-thrusts, like Karim wanted him there. He still knew nothing of proper anal sex. His sister, knowing he was bi and preferred boys, had given him a small talk about it - but only, use a condom, use lubricant, and you can buy those in a sex shop if you need them. Buy them ahead of time if you think it might happen.

He didn't have a condom, he didn't have lubricant, and most importantly, he didn't know what he was doing. He reeked of his inexperience, the innocence he held like a mantel until last night.
 
Astra grunts and groans in response to Karim's sobs. His hips buck and rut, cock throbbing inside the smaller male. His grip on the boy is like steel shackles,leaving no way for Karim to get free. Not that Astra would ever give him the opportunity.

Eventually, Astra approaches his climax. He thrusts harder, dragging Karim down to meet him deeply. Shorter, faster thrusts stay deep within the young lord, Astra grunting against his throat. Then he pulls Karim down hard, releasing his hair jn favor of digging his fingers into the boy's hips. His own hips jerk, bucking tight against Karim. Hot release spills into the boy, Astra groaning loudly.

Another few heartbeats, and Astra becomes still. His cock acts like a plug, trapping his seed inside Karim's body, bulging his lower abdomen out. Astra's teeth release Karim's skin, and his eyes examine the bruising rapidly coming to the surface. The young lord's expression is like artwork; pain, humiliation, tears. Beautiful.
 
He came. Thank God he came, the hot spurt of liquid so strange to feel inside him. Meaning and clarity of thinking came back slowly. Right; he was doing this so Astra would stay alive. That was important. Wasn't it? It was very important. Much more important than the fact that he couldn't see Astra's face from his tears. His head was finally upright, scalp and skull aching. Karim snuffled and scrubbed his unrestrained arm over his nose, swallowing hard, his lips - his whole body quivering. He shook pitifully in Astra's arms, and looked up at him, face guileless. Even despite the fact that his vision was distorted by tears, their eyes met.

He stared at him, eyes wide and reddened by crying. "Can I have a rest, M - Astra." It was framed as a request, not a demand. His voice broke as he asked it.

It didn't feel right. Calling him just Astra, like they were equals, didn't feel right. The familiarity of it - the casualness, being on first name basis - it - it was wrong. Even though Karim was willfully allowing it to happen, Astra had hurt him worse than anyone else in his young life, and they'd only really known each other two days. Really - a day and a half.

Was it going to get worse than this, Karim wondered? And if so - how much?
 
Astra doesn't answer for several heartbeats. When he does, it's without words. He hums, releasing Karim's arm and lifting the boy from his cock. He stands Karim on his feet, hands running down the backs of the boy's thighs. Then he just sits there, watching the young man. His eyes do drop to the bite wound on Karim's arm.

Astra is silent, calm even. It seems being able to take his angers out on Karim, to do as he pleases with him, is satisfaction enough to settle the warrior's hatred. At least, for a time. His hands run down his own thighs beneath the water, using it to wash away any blood left behind by Karim. He does the same to clean his cock.
 
Karim felt every inch of Astra's fat cock pull out of him. It unleashed a cloud of Astra's cum, turned pink with Karim's blood, billowing into the bath. When Astra let his thighs go, Karim backed up from him rapidly, but his knees hit the lip of the bath, and he tumbled down on the tile - right on his newly-abused ass. Karim startled and arched, crying out one last time. Whimpering in discomfort, legs shuddering almost too much to hold him, Karim managed to stand back in the water, shimmy to the side of Astra, and crouch down into the bath, clenching his eyes closed, hugging his knees.

He said nothing, just crying bitterly, his shoulders shuddering.

He jumped on a nearby bar of soap, and scrubbed himself red. The gently circulating bath carried away the evidence of what Astra had done.

Karim's frantic ablutions finally settled down. He looked numb. He felt numb, too.

But he gathered himself, his eyes falling on Astra's filthy clothes.

"Astra," he asked him, "can we go into town and buy you some new clothes?"
 
Astra doesn't make a move to help Karim, leaving him to his pain. But he does watch closely, etching this sight into his memory. If he can make the young lord suffer enough, maybe he would still get his wish for death. After all, Astra had promised Karim he would break him.

Astra stares as Karim scrubs himself down. He blinks and raises one eyebrow when Karim asks if he can take Astra shopping. "You want to take me into town, where everyone who has ever been to the arena knows who I am, and what I do." It's a statement, not a question, to point out how difficult the trip may be.
 
"It's a big city," Karim murmured. Astra made him feel foolish. "Only people who spend a fair bit of time at the Colosseum will recognize you, and many people don't." He chewed his lips, nervous. "I think it'll be okay."

Famous last words, but -

He looked up at Astra, those big brown eyes, the starting bruises from his teeth standing dark on the delicate skin of his throat.

"Do you ... not want to go?"
 
Astra's eyes trail Karim's body, lingering on the bruises from his biting. If they hadn't just finished, Astra would have walked across the bath and taken Karim again. Instead, he presses his lips into a thin line. "I don't–" Astra's voice breaks and he coughs. He's been doing a lot of talking for having barely used his voice at all over the last twelve years.

"I don't care either way. But buy me silks and I'll shred them." Astra stands up out of the water, not even trying to be modest, and walks across to sit on the opposite edge from Karim. He pushes his fingers through his shaggy hair, which has nearly dried; a pretty pale blond color.
 
"I think you should come, then," Karim intimated nervously. "If there's clothes you really don't want, you should choose them."

Looking over at Astra bashfully, he finally climbed out of the tub, washing the last of his tears from his face, and grabbed the towels from the big stacks of them. He began to dry himself off. He must have done it thousands of times, but it felt new, like he didn't know how to do it or how to act, doing it under Astra's watchful eyes. He kept glancing at Astra. He was pretty - but frightening. He'd washed the remnants of Karim's blood off his body, but the memory of the pink cum leaking out of him was hard to let go of; it stuck behind his eyes, like a mirage.

The cum was gone, already circulated through the moving water to the drain, where the magic filters that kept this bath clean would take care of it.
 
Astra only hums in response, sitting on the tile with one leg pulled up to his chest. He watches Karim dry off, but doesn't move to do so himself. He gets the idea, but years of being left to air dry have I grained the habit of just sitting after bathing.

After a couple of minutes, Astra stands and moves to his discarded clothing. He has nothing else, so naturally he intends to put on the same thing as before. He at least shakes the items out first, which serves to knock some dirt to the tiled floor.

Once dressed, Astra turns his blue eyes on Karim again, folding his arms over his chest. He's waiting; he may not have verbally said anything, but it's clear he's complying with going into town.
 
Karim could leave. But he said he was going to take Astra into town. So nervously, Karim perched on a bench intended for people changing, his sweaty palms clenched between his knees, and watched Astra dolefully.

Finally, the big man comes over, and puts on his old clothes. That's okay, Karim doesn't think he has anything in his size, and maybe it'll make him happier, more - you know - able to see how good life can be, if he gets to trade those clothes for nice clothes that fit.

He stands at the ready. When Karim realized he had, once again, silently acquiesced, Karim led him out to the stableyard. The carriage was out and waiting for him, resplendent white. Karim hailed Ibrahim and he soon brought out the draft horses, huge Belgians with black fur and white stars on their forehead.

Karim greeted the horses, while the driver climbed up. Karim refused the serving boy and guards he would usually have taken. He didn't want any witnesses, in case - you know.

Ibrahim held the door for him, and offered him a hand up as Karim climbed into the carriage. He offered nothing of the sort to Astra, though he did keep the door wide for him.
 
Astra follows Karim out to the carriage in silence. When the door is held open for him, Astra ducks inside, narrowing his eyes at the footman. He has to sit with his feet to either side of Karim's, his long legs barely having enough space, even seated as far back on the bench as he can.

Astra turns his head to stare out the window as the carriage pulls away. This would be interesting. Karim had tried to tell him not that many people would know him, but Astra knows differently. Many, many nobles had slaves that lost fights to Astra. And many more attended the arena to watch the fights.
 
Astra climbs in, and that awful feeling is back - of being surrounded. His broad thighs were on either side of Karim's knees, which pressed together hard as if in resistance to an attempt to pry them apart.

He kept his hands gripping his thighs and his head down as they road into town, not striking up conversation as he usually would have. There were so many landmines when he spoke with Astra, and he kept choking him and throwing him and things like that for stepping on them.

Karim shook slightly the whole ride into town, like a stressed hamster. Their destination was one of the most celebrated tailors in the city. Karim took all his new slaves there, often more than once, though his slaves' measurements were duly recorded in their logbooks, and they could make new clothes to order whenever Karim asked it of them. Being from one of the richest, and at least for his parents and elder sister, most influential families in the City had its perks.
 
Astra uses the close confines and silence to study Karim. As far as nobles go, this one is far too timid. He's kind to his servants, even letting them buy their freedom, and in return, getting their loyalty. But that timidness means other nobles no doubt push him around. On the other hand, being a noble still puts him on equal ground with other nobles.

Astra's eyes move up and down Karim's trembling body. He's almost too pretty, looking more like a boy one would find in a brothel house. If Karim were not a noble, it's likely that's where he would be. Given his fear of Astra's sexual advances, Karim would not last long in a brothel.

Astra is pulled from his thoughts when the carriage hits a hole in the road and he bounces upward, the top of his head connecting with the ceiling of the carriage. He growls, lifting his left hand to press his palm to the ceiling to hold himself from further bouncing. "Fucking stupid driver, should learn to avoid holes." Astra's anger is instant, his burning blue eyes staring at the wall of the carriage above Karim's head.
 
"Jos isn't stupid," Karim protested. Then he swallowed and looked down at his clenched knees. Feeling the need to make conversation, to cover up his reprimand and the oppressive silence, he told him all about how one of the lady dogs had given birth last week and there were puppies, how beautiful and sweet his manservant's new baby was, and how worried he was when holding her that she'd get hurt. He imitated her curled little fingers to Astra. He was a gregarious boy, and if Astra were anyone else, this would have been the whole ride into city. It was nervous chatter, surely.

Whatever Astra's response was to the jabbering, they arrived at their destination eventually.

The carriage chased off a cab parked in front of Lady Gloria's Clothier & Dressmaking shop, one of the finest clothiers in the nation. The footman jumped down from his perch and opened the door, and Karim clambered over Astra to get out.

The shop loomed over them, stately, with marble colonnades and a rich front covered in ostentatious gold leaf. Inside, behind the counter, well-dressed slaves were working hard on machines that seemed to be generating the clothing through magical means.
 
Astra drops his eyes to Karim when the young lord speaks up. He doesn't reply, but remains convinced the driver hit the hole on purpose, knowing how tall Astra is. When Karim starts with the word vomit, Astra turns his head to stare out the window. However, his head tilted toward Karim indicates he is listening.

At their destination, Astra finds amusement in the way Karim has to climb over his thigh in order to get out of the carriage. He makes no move to help the boy. Following Karim, Astra looks around with narrowed eyes. The tension in his shoulders is obvious to even young onlookers. Everyone gives him a wide space.

Astra follows behind Karim, maybe a little too closely, as they enter the clothier shop. His blue eyes sweep the room, taking in every detail. The rich colors and clearly expensive fabrics don't appeal to him. He prefers browns, tans, and blacks, in cottons and leathers. It's what he's worn his entire life.
 
The machines were shining silver in the light—were they perhaps made of silver?—and occasionally belched out steam. An older woman with a hook nose, dressed in an elegant blue gown, came up to them promptly, bypassing other customers.

"Lord Mahmoud Magdi," she said, falling into a gracious curtsy.

"Hello, Madame Gloria. I need three pairs of working clothes with the insignia, a pair of fine raiments for parties and official business, and a pair of streetwear clothes with no insignia in any style this man desires." Karim wheeled around and peered up at Astra nervously. "What would you like, Mr. Astra?"

The madame tucked a grey hair behind her ear, a small imperfection in her coifed head, and gestured at Astra. No sooner had she done so than two tape measures flung themselves out of a nearby basket, and began entwining around Astra, wrapping around him in both usual and unusual ways, taking measures of his whole body. Rather than looking at him, the Madame leaned back and consulted a tome spread on a stand nearby. If Astra looked closely, he'd notice a scrawling hand writing measurements in the strange gilt book.

"I'll need the fellow to remove those—street clothes, and model colors and styles for the dress uniform, if you please, Lord Mahmoud Magdi." She never addressed Astra—of course, he was the slave, not the master. She was about to gesture him back into the private room in the back for fittings.
 
Astra narrows his eyes at the approaching woman, but otherwise stays silent. He's accustomed to people talking only to his master's, so this is no different to him. However, he bares his teeth when Karim calls him mister. One hand starts to reach for the young lord, his voice a growl. "I told you not to call-"

Astra is cut off when the measuring tapes start flying around him. Acting out of instinct, he goes into fight mode, managing to grab one of them, which he promptly rips in half. He attempts to grab the other but misses; fast as he is, these magical flying things are faster.

When told he needs to strip down and model colors and fabrics, Astra growls, hatred burning in his eyes. "I'm no puppet for you to play dress up with, you haughty bitch." Astra doesn't care how his attitude is perceived, nor does he care about Karim's reputation in terms of controlling his slaves. The woman is just lucky Astra hasn't shoved Karim out of the way to get to her.
 
Karim flushed brilliant scarlet, number one, because he accidentally called Astra Mister again and was about to get choked over it, in public, in front of people his stature who knew who he was, and number two, the display afterwards was a cosmic, colossal PR mess he hoped his sister would be able to clear up for them.

Karim, having immediately realized this was a bad idea, cut in, "Um, you have his measurements now, yes?"

Madame Gloria's face might have been made of stone. She wanted, dearly, to strike the insolent slave with a pain spell and let him writhe for talking to her like that.

But it was Karim's slave, and Karim, according to etiquette, was supposed to administer the punishment. When he didn't, her face turned to one of intense dislike, while Karim turned redder than a cherry, knowing she and others in the shop, which had gone deathly quiet, thought he was embarrassing his noble house.

"Anyway, you can make the clothes with just that, can't you? So - please arrange for them. No silks. Astra, you don't have to model the clothes if you don't want to. Let's go back outside." He wanted to beat a strategic retreat, before Astra tried something crazy, like assaulting a seamstress.

"What would you like for the day-to-day clothes," Madame Gloria said in a voice that could have frozen water.

"What would you like?" Karim asked Astra, while also trying to subtly get him to quickly leave the shop.
 
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