Date: Fri, 8 Dec 2006 14:22:03 -0800 (PST)
From: Jae Monroe <jaexmonroe@yahoo.com>
Subject: Angel Chapter 2

This work is a product of the author's imagination, places, events and
people are either fictitious or used fictitiously and any resemblance to
real events, places, or people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
The author retains full copyright to the material, and sincerely hopes you
like it!  If you have something to say about it that isn't flaming me then
email me at: jae.monroe@yahoo.com


Angel

Chapter 2


Brenn sat on his cot, shivering, the chain which bound him to the stay on
the wall clinking lightly as he did.  He could hear the music playing, the
laughter, the shouts, and the sound of carousing in the main part of the
house.  Master Vellius was having another fete, another gathering of his
friends, another round of revelry, celebration and abuse.  Mercifully Brenn
was spared from such activities, he had been kept away from them after his
current owner had decided upon who would be his next, not three weeks from
when he had first arrived in the fat man's household.

It had been three weeks of agony for him.  Upon his entry to Rome, he had
been gifted to Master Vellius by the man's client, the soldier Junius Medo,
to cancel a debt between them and to restore their good standing.  Vellius,
however, did not want him for himself, and he was put on display at every
one of his frequent fetes for the guests to look over and make an offer.
None had met up to Vellius's expectations of his worth, it might seem, for
he had not been sold to any of the lascivious men who had examined, groped
and grabbed his every inch while he'd stood naked during their inspections.
Then, for some reason, he had stopped being trotted out for perusal and
humiliating examination by the guests at Vellius's fetes, only able to
guess from this turn of events and from the slaves' idle musings that
Master Vellius had found a buyer.  So he was left in his quarters, chained
to his cot for the night and taken out during the days to be exercised and
kept supple and fit as a showpony for this unknown entity that would buy
him.

And he was glad for it, for there was nothing worse than what he had seen
at Vellius's celebrations, there was no worse abuse of slaves than that
which occurred during these violent and wild orgies.  He had caused untold
mirth when, during his display at the foot of Vellius's throne-like chair,
he had witnessed an abuse of a slave so vicious he had rushed to the window
and vomited into the garden outside it.  He was lucky his sickened response
had been such a cause for amusement among the guests otherwise he would
likely have been punished for displaying such disgust, but Vellius was
pleased at the weak-stomached response and had ruffled Brenn's hair
affectionately afterwards.

Fortunately for him, he was spared from exposure to any more such
depravity, but there were those who were not so lucky and he could still
imagine, if he was no longer forced to witness, what these might be
enduring.  Rolling over in his cot, he curled up and tried to drown out the
sounds of debauchery which filtered into the room in muted tones, reminding
him of what was taking place outside it and especially who was suffering at
the hands of it.

Suddenly the door was thrust open and the sound of the party spilled in
through it, as did the light from the hallway which was well-lit by
torches.  Brenn's stomach clenched.  Gods did they want him to join the
fete?  Taking several deep breaths, he hastily hardened himself even though
his heart beat wildly within his chest: many weeks of having been spared
from the horrific festivities had lulled him into a general belief that he
would continue to be excluded from them, but he should have known he was
never safe.

"Boy, your presence is required in Master's office," the slave informed him
as he came forward with a key to unlock the fetter at Brenn's wrist that
linked via a thick black chain to a bolt in the wall, keeping him bound to
the bed.

Brenn made no response as he sat up in the bed, rubbing his hair.

"Oh, you look terrible," the slave cried, wringing his hands and jumping
forward to run his fingers through Brenn's hair.  "Why did he have to come
now?  And no warning.  Master is very upset; if you do not look pleasing
for Master's patron we will all of us suffer for it."  Standing Brenn up,
he yanked off his tunic.  "But then these important men wait on no one's
leisure.  Ah well, you will have to do as you are."

He was led, naked, through the hall passages in all haste, the slave
continuing to mutter about this man who was too rude to give any
forewarning of his visit and about the dire punishments that would rain
down on them all because of it.  Brenn followed, his heart beating as
though it would jump from his chest, having no idea what was to happen or
who this man was that he caused even Master Vellius to be flustered at his
unexpected arrival.

When the slave reached his master's office, he halted by the door, and
Brenn drew up short behind him, feeling his heart lodge itself in his
throat.  He hated to have any contact at all with Master Vellius who looked
at him as he would a tasty morsel that he was forbidden from enjoying, a
look of lust mixed with frustrated restraint.  Brenn was ever weary that
the man would one day decide the former was stronger than the latter and
use him in that way which he had now become patently aware was the use of
many if not most household slaves.

The slave bowed his head, knocking lightly on the door then slapping Brenn
as he waited for it to be opened.  "Bow your head and keep your eyes on
your feet, stupid barbarian," the slave hissed.

Brenn did as he was bid but felt his ire rise in response to the demeaning
instruction.  This slave was born to the life of bondage, in Vellius's
household, and so he considered himself expressly above Brenn who, as a
'stupid barbarian' and a stupid captured barbarian at that, was the lowest
of the low.

"Enter."  The order came in Master Vellius's phlegmy voice.

Keeping his head bowed, the slave entered and Brenn followed him, his eyes
likewise cast down, but not on his feet, for it did not pay to keep one's
eyes averted in the face of the enemy.

"Stupid boy, you have kept the Senator waiting."  The slave before Brenn
gasped and sucked in his breath as Vellius's switch met his shoulders and
ears.

"A thousand apologies, Master," the slave whispered deferentially, his
voice sounding pained.

Brenn looked up in curiosity, keeping his eye trained on the sharp, black
switch that Master Vellius had used on the slave before him, watching
carefully that the man did not intend to use it on him.

"The slave is saucy, Donatianus, think you to give me a hot-headed slave?"
the other man in the room asked and Brenn's eyes were drawn to that voice
which was deep and confident, a man who knew his place in the world and
knew it was above that of Brenn's own master.

The man was wearing a white toga, trimmed with a dark band.  His stance was
relaxed as he perused Brenn's person, his dark eyes rising to meet Brenn's.
Brenn stared back at him, his own expression wary as he took in the
handsome man in his forties who was obviously in such a position as to be
able to sit in his own master's presence while Vellius stood.

"Not saucy, Senator; I have been attempting to train him to the appropriate
behaviour but he is a barbarian and slow with it.  But he is an Angle as
you did mention you were in want of, and faster than most, I would say,
more intelligent than most of his ilk.  And attractive, you must agree
there."  Master Vellius tied himself up in knots trying to expound on
Brenn's virtues while also remembering to denigrate Brenn's origins as he
rightly should.

"Oh, indeed, he is attractive, I will give you that, but there are many
attractive slaves that a man may bestow to appease his patron, tell me why
you choose to give me this one who is so untrained," the Senator replied.

"He has been but three months in my household, which is little time to
undertake any serious training," Vellius explained, actually sounding
pained with his embarrassment.  "But I will give you this, he was untouched
while he was here, not a man, or woman, has laid hand upon him, neither has
he been marked as belonging to my estate, for such fine flesh," here Master
Vellius slapped Brenn's firm buttocks proudly, "I knew I must give my
esteemed patron."

"Ah, so you think to give me a slave who is not only poorly trained to
behaviour in a household, but utterly untrained to behaviour in the
bedroom."  Master Vellius paled as his patron reduced his offering to a
pittance.  "Quite a gift you think to bestow, my friend."

Master Vellius sputtered, and then turned to Brenn angrily.  "Lower your
eyes, filthy barbarian," he barked, slapping Brenn across the back of his
head, having to reach up considerably to do so.  Brenn's eyes snapped
around to fix him with a murderous glare, fuelled with the fury of being so
condescendingly spoken about.

"Foolish barbarian."  Vellius swatted Brenn across his chest and arm with
the switch before he turned back to his patron apologetically.  "You are
right, Senator, I do not know why I thought this piece of trash could ever
appease you; pretty as his outside may be, he is hopelessly uncouth.  I
will give him to Crassus I think; he will delight in whipping the insolence
out of him.  Shame though: fine smooth golden skin that he does have, it
will not remain so long."

Brenn's heart seized up in his chest, he had heard of this Crassus, the man
who had offered the most for Brenn in the three weeks he had been available
for sale in his master's house.  No, he couldn't be going to that man who
delighted in the abuse of his slaves, all his entourage of servants had
been marked with stripes and lashes from his ministrations.

"Fine smooth skin he does have indeed," the Senator said ruefully as he
thought about where Brenn might be sent.  "Hit him again, with the switch,"
he instructed Vellius who complied, putting considerable strength into it
and Brenn sucked in his breath, glaring murder at the Senator who had
ordered this abuse of his person so casually.

"Hah!"  The Senator sat back in amusement.  "Such fire and fury.  He is
perfect, I shall take him."

Vellius looked at him in astonishment.  "But surely you will not hold truck
with feisty slaves?"  Wondering even as he said the words at why he was
trying to talk the man out of accepting his gift.

"No, not I, but he is perfect for my son who unfortunately holds too much
truck with feisty slaves," the Senator said calculatingly.  "I shall give
him this uncouth barbarian, let him become frustrated beyond reason with
his surliness, and then we shall see if he continues with such unreasonable
lenience and kindness towards those below him."



Claudius's twentieth birthday fete was a two-week affair of which he ended
up having little recollection.  Though he had intended to prevent it from
reaching orgy proportions, from what was recounted to him afterwards,
mainly by his aunt by way of reproof, and in some parts by his friends by
way of congratulations, it had certainly gone to that level and beyond and
far from being its moderator, he had ended up having a large part to play
in its escallation.  Fortunately, or not, depending on how he looked at it,
his intoxication had as usual rendered his memories hazy at best so he had
no idea of just what he had done during that fortnight.

"I didn't do anything I shall regret too greatly, did I, Aunt?" he ended up
asking his aunt as he lay abed for the second day after the last of the
guests had departed from his home, feeling all the illness due to his
two-week stupour now that it was over.

"That depends on what you will find regrettable," Aurora told him, sitting
back in the chair by the bed and grinning at how laid-up her nephew was.
"You did bed the Solacca boy."

Claudius sat up suddenly then promptly flopped back on the pillows.  "Oh,
do not say it," he moaned, covering his eyes with his forearm.  "I thought
you said I was too stupefied to be up to anything."

"Well apparently this you were up to, TWICE," his aunt replied, loving that
she had finally found something about which her unabashed nephew would
blush.  "Though 'twas not I who walked in on it, thank the gods, two of
your friends had that privilege; I overheard them laughing about it, saying
how you must have found a mighty short ten-foot barge-pole."

"Argh!  No, Gods, none will let me live this down," Claudius groaned,
turning his head from side-to-side with his eyes squeezed shut tight.

"I suppose you do not want to know that you also had relations with another
boy, oh what was his name?"  Aurora wracked her brains for the name of the
black-haired boy.

"Who?  Do not keep me in suspense, Aunt, and do not feed me this knowledge
in drips, tell me: how many did I end up bedding and who were they?"
Claudius demanded.

"I only know of the two, though there could very well have been more, I was
not privy to every conversation.  I only heard it mentioned that you had
bedded the Solacca boy and...the black-haired boy..." she thought aloud.

Claudius gasped.  "Do not say it was Corvinus?"

"No!"  Aurora burst out laughing.  "No I daresay if you did so he'd never
survive it, wraith-like creature that he is; no, it was the boy with very
short black hair and blue eyes, oh what is his name?!"

Claudius thought for a minute.  "With quite swarthy skin?  I think you
mean...Lucillus."  His aunt nodded, recalling the name, and Claudius
allowed himself a grin.  "Oh that is not so bad, not so bad at all; he is
rather pretty actually.  Now are you sure there are no more?"

"That I do not know of there may be many, but these are those that I do
know of.  Perhaps you might ask the slaves," Aurora suggested.

"No, I won't be doing that, thank you."  Claudius grinned.  "I shall just
lie here for the next few days and wait for the love-gifts to amass at my
door."

"Or the invoices," Aurora quipped and Claudius made to slap her but she was
too far away.

"Actually we should have had hired whores at this fete, I imagine," he
noted.  Two weeks was a long time for the household slaves to service so
many guests.

"I imagine so, but I did try to stay out of the way of all that; it would
not have been seemly for me to witness such debauchery," Aurora said
sternly.

"But you did anyway?" Claudius asked with a crooked brow.

"Well someone had to keep an eye on the host's house since said host was
more often than not lying in a pool of his own vomit," she replied curtly.

"Was I?" Claudius asked incredulously.

"No, I was jesting," she replied, patting his arm.  "It likely wasn't just
your own vomit, others--"

"Do not say it!"  Claudius was aghast.

"Relax, Gods child, I would never let you get into that state, even if it
meant having to watch every debauched entertainment in order to keep an eye
on you and that's exactly what I did," Aurora told him.  "But I tell you,
I'll never be able to look at that salon in the same way again."

"Just how debauched did the entertainments get?" Claudius asked worriedly.

"Ah, not so bad, just sex, willing participants, the Nubian Kubra got used
a lot, but I think he enjoyed every minute of it, quite prodigiously
endowed is that--"

"Gods!  Do not go on, Aunt!"  Claudius turned to her in amazement.  "What
would father say if he heard you?"

Aurora grinned.  "He would not be impressed," she conceded, "but he might
just be a little titillated."

"Enough, Aunt," Claudius instructed, but he had to grin at her
matter-of-fact vulgarity.  "And you claimed to be looking out for me," his
expression turned accusing, "yet you get yourself so distracted watching
Kubra wield his massive organ that I end up sleeping with Commodus!"

"I do not know why you lament it so; he is a pretty little thing, if a
trifle vain and giggly," Aurora commented.

"Argh, there's history, messy history between us which I'd rather not go
into," Claudius said, his lip curling.

"You mean that he's utterly faithless, yes I picked up on that at your
fete," Aurora commented casually.

Claudius turned to her.  "Well then you see, and that is the nature of our
history, which is why I don't want to revisit it."

"I suppose, but you'll not blame ME for your indiscretions," Aurora told
him, getting up from the seat she had occupied next to Claudius's bed.
"And best you get yourself into some semblance of sober fortitude, nephew,
or have you forgotten that your father is visiting on the morrow?"

Claudius flopped back on the bed after she had left, sighing and cursing
the fine Aurius wine in which he had so thoroughly overindulged.



The next day saw his overindulgence forgotten, however, as he sat in the
salon with his father and aunt, the former of whom had not been to their
country-villa for some months.

"Why not make it official?" Claudius asked his father and aunt as they sat
over their evening meal.

Gaius looked up from his meal as Claudius grunted from the pinch his aunt
delivered surreptitiously.

"Make what official?" Gaius asked, setting his plate aside and turning his
dark-brown eyes on his son.

"Nothing," Aurora answered.

"The two of you," Claudius answered to her chagrin.

Gaius coughed and turned to Aurora.  "Is that what you want?" he asked
curiously.

"You know I do not," Aurora answered, delivering Gaius an impatient look,
as though she wished the topic ended.

Claudius looked at them surprised.  "You have asked her already?"

"Many times son, but she refused every one," his father answered.

Claudius turned to Aurora questioningly.  She looked past him, her blue
eyes gone a little distant.  "I do not wish to usurp my sister's life, I
have her house and her son; I will not take her husband also," she said
uncomfortably.

"You OWN me, do you?" Claudius asked with levity, drawing the conversation
from the uneasy path it looked to be taking.

"Of course."  Aurora shook herself out of her dim thoughts.  "Think you it
is any other way?"

"Ah, but she will not own me..."  Gaius indulged in a sigh, and then he
returned his regard to his son.  "Though if we are speaking of possessions,
I've not yet given you your birthday gift, son."

"It obviously does not fit in the hand then."  Claudius washed the last
mouthful of his meal down with his wine.

"Ah, no, it most certainly does not," Gaius answered, his eyes twinkling.

After dinner, Claudius followed his father to Gaius's unused study
curiously, wondering what his father's present could be that it did not fit
in his hand and that he was to receive it in his study, he guessed it could
be a chest or some other piece of furniture that his father had had
delivered there, or...perhaps it was the study itself since it was the
largest in the house and his father was never home to use it?  Either gift
he would be pleased with, he thought as they entered the study, a slave
lighting the lamps to flood the room with muted brightness.  The surfaces
shone under the torchlight, having been kept spotless of dust as though
Gaius used the study daily, when it had in fact not been used for many
months.

Claudius turned to his father who gestured that he sit, which he did, on a
small low-backed chair before the large desk, then Gaius went to the door
and instructed the waiting slave there.  Claudius sat forward, it was
obviously not the study then...

Momentarily the door opened and one of the house-slaves entered, followed
by a cloaked figure.  Claudius frowned, his eyes studying the pair.  The
slave stepped away and drew the cloak from the shoulders of the figure and
Claudius sucked in his breath at what was uncovered.

"An angel," he breathed, getting to his feet to walk over and examine the
slave.  "You remembered..." he told his father, flashing a brilliant smile
to the man before turning back to the Angle slave who had been stood before
him awaiting inspection.

Claudius examined the fine features of the youth's face, he could not be
more than nineteen, though he was taller and broader than Claudius, his
arms were obviously used to physical work, they were corded with strong,
supple muscles which Claudius touched now, running his fingers over one of
the firm biceps, encircling it with both his hands to measure its size, the
Angle lad staring straight ahead as he was examined.  Claudius then moved
to examine the smooth planes of his chest, running his hands over the firm,
hard pectoral muscles, parting the slave's tunic to examine his skin which
was silken-smooth and tanned a light golden colour, his hand came up over
the youth's taut abdomen, over his rib-cage and ran up the muscles of his
chest, the fingers brushing over a nipple to which the slave stiffened in
response, breathing out harder.

Claudius looked up in mild curiosity, running his hand up over one wide
shoulder and taking his face between his hands, his calm dark eyes roaming
over every inch of it, taking in the soft golden hair, darker than the hair
he had seen on those Angle children which had captured his attention three
years ago whom he had thought his father had forgotten, but obviously not.
Clever, clever Gaius to bide his time so well then present Claudius with
such a delightful surprise.  This slave had deep golden locks which fell in
waves to the nape of his neck.

His eyes roamed over the smooth straight brow, slightly darker in colour
than the hair which topped his head.  Below the brow sat sparkling blue
eyes the colour of the evening sky, twilight before the night turns it
grey; they were so dark blue they were nigh violet in colour and Claudius
stood there mesmerised by them for some moments.  He drew back, shaking
away the strange feeling that had crossed him briefly and then nodded to
himself, deciding it was these he definitely liked most about the boy.

The rest of his face was in no way less captivating, however.  Broad
Germanic cheekbones were set high and gave him the proud look of a noble;
perhaps he had been one in Germania, Claudius did not know.  To think he
might be taking a Germanic princeling to his bed...?  Or maybe not, maybe
he was just a Germanic village-boy, simple and sweet: either fantasy had
its merits, he decided, chuckling inwardly.  His eyes devoured the firm
lips which betrayed the youth's unease at being so examined, were they lush
and full when softened, he wondered?  The strong chin had just the hint of
a cleft and Claudius ran his fingers over it, then along the jaw, feeling a
muscle twitch beneath his fingers.

"You are pleased with the Angle."  Gaius interrupted his son's exploration
with this statement and Claudius turned to him, bemused.

"Gods, child, wipe that puppy-dog expression from your eyes," Gaius
admonished him, and then chuckled to see his son shake himself free of his
bemusement.

Claudius turned to the waiting house-slave.  "Take him to my chamber and
prepare him.  I will be there in a bit."

The slave nodded, turning and tugging the Angle youth after him, Claudius
turned, deciding it was better not to watch the lad exit the room since his
every movement was so enticing.

"You do not need to be polite son, I will understand if you wish to go and
be with your gift," Gaius answered.

"Truly father, I am pleased with your gift," Claudius answered.

"I see that," Gaius interjected, his eyes twinkling.

"However it has been more than a month since I did last see you, so I would
like the boon of your company more," Claudius finished.

"Indeed."  Gaius found that hard to credit, but nonetheless turned to the
shelf where he kept his strong spirits got from the traders mainly as
gifts.  He poured his son a cup as well as one for himself.  "You should
come with me to the Forum more."

"I find that place a hotbed of all manner of vice, father, so I'd rather
you came out here."  Claudius's expression revealed his distaste for the
Senate.

"Mmm, that comes through in the speeches you write for me from
time-to-time."  Gaius sipped on the strong liquid then coughed as the
Eastern grain-wine burnt his throat.  He stared at his cup of clear liquid.
"They call this wine?" he asked incredulously.

Claudius examined the liquid in his cup then sniffed it.  "Perhaps it needs
watering?" he suggested.

"No, the little dark fellow told me you throw back an inch in the bottom of
your cup, straight."  Gaius's eyes widened as he swirled the potent liquid
around in the bottom of his cup.

"Almighty Gods!" Claudius choked, he had just done according to his
father's relayed suggestion and his throat burned with it.

Gaius looked at him in surprise then chuckled.  "Ah, to be a youth again
and to do aught without giving it a thought."

Claudius sat back in his seat, feeling pleasantly warm, the burning feeling
gone to be replaced with a calm hot feeling in his belly.  He looked up at
his father with bright eyes.  "You should try it, father, it is hard going
down but the aftermath is quite pleasant."

Gaius looked at him curiously then threw down the liquid, sitting back in
his seat, his eyes gone misty and his cheeks flushed.  "You are right," he
said, pouring another tot and one for his son.  "Perhaps those Easterners
have the right idea, they are not much in battle but they are exceptional
inventers of new ways to enjoy oneself."



There was one form of enjoyment which had not escaped Claudius's mind as he
stumbled his way back up to his chambers though he wondered if he would be
able to do justice to it this night, having consumed several more tots of
the fiery Eastern wine with his father before they had parted company.  He
lurched into his bed-chamber and stumbled over the waiting Judean slave,
Phinua who scrambled to his feet.

"A thousand apologies, Master," Phinua cried when he realised that his
master had caught him asleep when he was supposed to wait up for him.

"'Tis naught, Phinua, I did not tread on anything vital did I?"  Claudius's
voice was remarkably unslurred given the way his vision was blurring in the
soft light of the torch.

Phinua laughed in relief, he was a-thousand-times blessed to have Claudius
as his master.  "No, Master."

"Then be a good boy and help me to my bed, I'm bound to impale myself or
crack my skull on somewhat if left to myself."  Claudius reached for the
small boy who put a hand about his master's waist and guided him to the
bed.

"Do you want me to join you Master?" Phinua asked slyly.

Claudius reached out, tousling the boy's hair roughly.  "You know I've no
taste for boys Phinua," he told the little Judean as he had many other
times.  "And do not sell yourself into someone's bed so hastily, child;
enjoy your innocence awhile."

Phinua nodded.  "Yes, Master," he said as Claudius fell into the bed
heavily and the boy returned to his pallet, disappointed.

Claudius was asleep in minutes, having in that short time completely
forgotten about the other occupant in the room, who lay rigid on his
pallet, having heard everything since the Roman, his new master, had first
crashed into the room.



"Is that the Angle?" the Nubian Kubra asked Phinua gruffly, standing over
the small boy and nudging him to wakefulness with his large foot.  Phinua
rubbed the sleep out of his eyes which blinked then widened to see the tall
black man towering over his pallet.  He nodded, Master Claudius was still
asleep and so they were all very quiet.  Kubra went over to the
golden-haired lad, nudging him awake with his foot as he had done Phinua.

Brenn woke with a start and stared up at the rather large, and rather
handsome, man who smiled down at him, white teeth shining against his
smooth ebony skin.  "You come with me Angle; I will feed and bathe you."

Phinua listened to this with surprise, the Nubian was to bathe the Angle,
he thought to himself, his curiosity piqued, was he dangerous then?

The blonde-haired man nodded then rose, showing his pale-gold expanse of
chest and Kubra eyed him with curiosity, lifting a lock of the dark-gold
hair atop the man's head and examining it, rubbing it between his fingers
and splaying out the shiny strands to note their hue and texture, then he
removed his hand with a disinterested sound, turning and gesturing that the
young man follow him.

They sat at the table, eating the gruel consigned to the slaves, it was
bland but filling fare and likely quite nutritious with the added grains
sprinkled on top.  Brenn was aware that there were many eyes on him that
morning, noting how the eyes of the female slaves passed over him,
lingering on him overlong, as did the eyes of a few of the male slaves,
though they would generally not engage in congress with him unless it was
for the entertainment of the guests.  The Nubian opposite him laughed to
see the wanton stares.

"They eat you with their eyes, Angle," Kubra commented, spooning the gruel
into his mouth and licking his spoon after he had emptied it, a patent
message to the blonde man.  "Perhaps I will too when I bathe you."

Brenn looked at him in surprise, and then frowned.  "Any part of you that
touches me you'll not get back," he growled in a surprisingly good Roman
tongue.

Kubra threw back his head, filling his barrel chest with laughter, and then
looked back to the man.  "The Angle speaks most courageously," he
commented.  "But I wonder if his fists are as brave as his mouth is."

Brenn looked at the man hard, his dark-blue eyes boring into the calm brown
ones of the Nubian, but his heart was beating a little faster.  The Nubian
was incredibly well built; unless Brenn could get in an opportunistic shot,
it was very likely that the large man could take what he wanted from him.

Kubra saw the wary look enter the Angle's expression and chuckled.  "Do not
worry, Angle, I have no more say over what happens to your body than you
do; you will only feel the length of my pole is it ordered by our masters."

"How many masters do we have in this household?"  Brenn asked, diverting
the subject after he felt the relief flood him at the Nubian's easily given
promise.

"There is Master Claudius and Mistress Aurora who is the young-master's
aunt and lover to his father, Master Gaius, whom you will see but rarely."

Brenn had met 'Master' Gaius and liked him not one bit.  Now he was given
to the man's son he felt his chest clench at the thought that he had been
gifted to his final owner which meant he was now no longer off limits.  And
what if this master was like his father who had casually ordered he be
switched for his own delectation and then, after the deal was transacted,
had quite easily treated him as muck beneath his notice?

"But then," Kubra continued, oblivious to Brenn's internal anguish, "in
Rome, all Romans are master to we slaves, so does the house fill once more
with young Romans, as it did only a few days ago for Master Claudius's
birthday fete, you will be answerable to each one of them also."  Kubra sat
back, smiling to think on that fete, his pole had got much use that
fortnight.



Kubra did not get to make good on his promise to devour Brenn with his eyes
during his bath until after the evening meal as Claudius had left the villa
for the day and did not require his newest slave to be delivered to him
until the evening.  Kubra decided it was best to wait to bathe him until
then, so he would be fresh for his young master.  As it was, it was an idle
threat he had made to the boy over breakfast, Kubra had seen many a naked
body and so the Angle's was nothing new, though he did note and appreciate
the sculpted well-developed build of the man's musculature.  He was better
built than Kubra had first realised, and the Nubian wondered if he would
have been able to put up a decent fight was he able to take him.  It was a
fruitless musing, though, for Kubra had spoken true over breakfast: he
would not be taking the Angle of his own accord.

He noticed the man was endowed rather generously, though his member was not
the length of the Nubian's sword.  His dark eyes traced along the
golden-hued skin of the Angle as his hand traced the path with the
wash-cloth, noting how the crotch-hairs of the man were the same colour as
his eye-brows, darker than his hair, how his seed-sacs were well-sized and
perfectly symmetric, how his buttocks were firm and lighter than the rest
of his tanned skin, not having seen the same amount of sun as his chest and
back.  Truly the Angle was very pleasantly put together, Kubra noted, and
he found himself hoping rather strongly that Brenn would be used in an
entertainment soon.

Brenn noticed that his bathing attendant stared at him overlong and it
unnerved him, but since he had been stared at by all the women in the
house, he guessed that had he been bathed by one of them their appreciation
would be equally as blatant.  Rising from the bath when he was directed to,
he stood atop a cloth to be dried.  He stiffened as the Nubian patted him
down with the drying cloth, paying a little too much attention to his staff
and to Brenn's horror he felt it begin to stir in response to the other
man's rubbing and cupping him through the dampened fabric.  He was about to
still the man's hand when the drying cloth suddenly left him and the man
rose, turning to a cupboard and retrieving a bottle of perfumed oil.  This
he sprinkled in Brenn's hair and on his body, brushing the former out with
a comb so that the waves gleamed in the torchlight.

The Nubian stood back eyeing him in appreciation.  "You will please Master
Claudius greatly I think," He said and then slid a loose tunic on to the
rigid Angle who noted with chagrin that it was designed for removal rather
than cover.  Damned gratuitous Romans, he thought angrily, and their damned
ways of entertaining themselves with the suffering and humiliation of all
who have the misfortune to belong to them.

Claudius shuffled through his papers as he lay on his bed in the chamber,
he had always found himself bringing his work into his place of rest,
though he felt there was something inherently wrong in that.  Which was why
he was glad of the distraction when it came, looking up when he heard the
door open and saw the Angle thrust in.  His eyes widened in appreciation to
see the man standing tall and sparkling in a loose cream-coloured tunic
which opened far down the front to reveal his impressive expanse of toned
golden chest and navel.  His legs could be seen up to just below mid-thigh
and were toned and well-developed as was the rest of him.

Brenn warily regarded the Roman aristocrat who eyed him greedily, his
appreciation far more unnerving than that of the Nubian since it conveyed a
sense of ownership: the Roman knew that what he admired he could also
possess and the thought of that brought the rage rising up in Brenn such
that his chest clenched with it and he felt as though it would burst out of
him at the slightest provocation.  He took deep breaths, trying to school
the rage from his expression, not aware that he was doing an appalling job
of it.

Claudius put his papers down and swung his legs over the side of the bed,
rising from it and stepping toward his newest possession, curious at the
way the slave's beautiful blue eyes glittered with fury, turning
near-violet as he struggled to control it.

When his new master was but two feet away Brenn could contain himself no
longer.

"I will kill you if you touch me."  The Angle spoke softly, in a deep and
solemn voice, with his brow low over his turbulent eyes and his every
muscle tensed and ready to fight.