Written in Stone Pt. 01-02

He was aware of Charis rising to her feet. His heart raced as she approached him, slowly circling him. It was as if he could feel her eyes on him, and his skin dimpled under her gaze.

"He's the favored offspring of Glenna, prized dam of the Talm bloodline, from Aktaion Euphemis," Dryas explained. "The most beautiful of all the helots she birthed, the most obedient, with the most talented mouth and the tightest ass."

"That's an impressive lineage," the woman with the kind voice said. Kieran detected a note of dismissive neutrality in her voice, as if she either didn't believe the claim, or didn't care.

"He lives up to it," Dryas insisted, somewhat defensively. "Try him for yourself. Feel his holes, and tell me if they aren't better than any you could offer in your symposium."

Kieran's face flushed hot. A comment like that, made to a symposiarch, meant an almost certain beating. Spartans did not enjoy having their pride attacked, and a symposiarch was fiercely proud of the quality of their symposium. Implying that Kieran was of higher quality than the slaves she offered her members was an insult that would not be taken lightly.

He flinched when he felt a hand on his face, but the touch was much gentler than he expected.

Her fingers lingered on his lips. "They're soft," she said approvingly, more to him than to his owner. "Open."

Kieran obediently opened his mouth, and the symposiarch tenderly pushed a finger inside. With her other hand, she lightly caressed his face and neck, reassuring him.

Still too afraid to dare looking up, he focused instead on the pale, calming, impossibly soft blue of her peplos. Despite himself, he imagined what that flowing, light material would feel like against his skin.

He wondered if it would feel like the strangely soft fingers on his face and in his mouth.

Her skin was soft, and smooth, and clean. Her touch was gentle. She didn't force her way into him the way Dryas and his friends did. Her presence was calm, and confident, and quiet. He imagined her being gentle with him, just as she was gentle with his mouth now.

"His ass is exemplary, too," Dryas told her.

"I have no doubt," she replied in that same, neutral tone, pulling her hands from Kieran's face.

"Feel it," Dryas insisted, grabbing Kieran by the shoulders and turning him around. "Your members would gladly pay double their fee for a taste of his ass."

"Are you offering to sell him to me?" Charis asked.

Dryas scoffed. "I'm simply pointing out that true quality doesn't exist in symposiums. Not even yours, Lady Athanasiadi."

"I don't doubt the quality of his body," Charis replied smoothly. "I can see such for myself."

Kieran sucked his breath in as she stepped forward, her chest brushing against his back. He felt her hands on him, moving slowly across his hips and up to his chest. A moment later, her lips brushed his ear.

"Bend over, darling," she whispered.

She stepped back, removing her hands from his waist and putting one on his back, between his shoulder blades. With gentle, gradual pressure, she pushed him to bend at the waist. Trembling, Kieran did as she wanted, and spread his legs, gripping the backs of his knees and arching his back to give her better access. He prayed she would continue to be gentle. His ass still hurt from the preparation Dryas had put him through.

Sure enough, the finger that grazed his entrance was soft and light. Yet, even the light touch brought pain. Luckily, his face was hidden from her view, and he didn't have to feign a pleasing expression. The body language was easy enough to fake.

He let out a soft, eager moan and pushed back against the finger at his entrance, pretending to want her to enter him. He didn't have to hide the grimace as the pressure of him pushing back against her sent more pain rolling through his body. It would be even worse when she entered him.

Obey. Just obey.

But she surprised him by pulling her hand away. "Stand up," she told him. "Turn around."

Drawing in a discreet, shaky breath, Kieran straightened up, his face contorted with pain as the lingering soreness made his movements agonizing. He stumbled forward before regaining his balance, forcing his legs to obey him.

Dryas, who stood in front of him, saw his expression and shot him a fierce warning look. Kieran quickly and carefully arranged his features into an expression of neutral submissiveness and turned back to face the symposiarch.

"Look at me, Kieran," she said softly. The sound of his name on her tongue made his heart jump. Nervously, his eyes flitted to hers, and he was stunned by the depth and compassion and beauty there.

No, she was nothing like he thought she'd be.

She was young, younger than 30, with long blonde hair and the most stunning gray eyes he'd ever seen. She looked kind, and gentle.

As his eyes met hers, she gave him a warm, reassuring smile. "That's a good boy," she said.

His blush deepened, and he lowered his eyes, unable to hold her gaze.

"You're right, he is quite beautiful," she said to Dryas, running a gentle hand down his chest, and across his ribs. Her touch sent chills down his spine. He steeled himself, expecting her to fondle him, but surprisingly, she kept her hand above his waist. "But he's so thin. Why is he so thin?"

"He's always been thin," Dryas replied shortly. Kieran flinched, recognizing the hostility in his tone. No doubt he took offense to Charis' question. Dryas was not a pleasant man when he was pushed to the defensive.

There was a tense pause, then Charis removed her hand and stepped back. "I'm thirsty," she declared. "Would you happen to have any tea, Dryas?"

And Kieran flinched again. Her voice had been light, and friendly, but he heard the insult underneath it, the same as his owner did.

Charis was trophimi, the daughter of a Spartan lord, and had earned the right to take her father's name, but she was not a Spartan. Dryas was Spartan nobility. Even other Spartans wouldn't dare to use a nobleman's first name without being given permission to do so.

"Kieran, get the tea," Dryas snapped through clenched teeth. Charis resumed her seat on the couch, beside her companion, while Kieran hurried to obey his owner, not even taking the time to redress. The evening certainly wasn't boding well for him. It would take a miracle to get him through it without being severely beaten.

His hands still trembled, from fear and from the lingering numbness, but he forced them to obey his will as he arranged the cups and the pot of tea on the large silver tray. Somehow, he managed to lift it up and hold it steady as he walked to where his owner sat on the couch.

"No!" Dryas practically shouted, startling Kieran. "Serve my guests first. What is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry, Dominus," Kieran murmured, straightening up. But as he turned, he lost his balance again, and this time, he couldn't correct in time. He watched in horror as the tray, and everything on it, crashed loudly to the floor.

Panic took hold, and Kieran immediately dropped to his knees, shaking violently. His first instinct was to crawl to his owner's feet in a desperate attempt to appease him and avoid the beating he knew was coming.

But the logical part of him knew better. In the next instant, he heard the thunder in his owner's voice. Pain exploded in his ribs as Dryas kicked him, still shouting.

He wasn't even capable of registering what his owner was saying. It was all clouded and muted by the panic in his mind, the deafening sound of his racing heart, and the blood pumping furiously in his ears.

Another kick landed in his stomach, knocking the wind from him and making him try desperately to squirm away, gasping for air. But Dryas stopped him by grabbing a handful of his hair and throwing him brutally back down to the floor. All Kieran could do was cover his face and pray that the beating would end soon.

"Stop!"

Both Kieran and Dryas were stunned by the sheer strength and volume of the voice, the voice that managed to cut through the fog of panic and pain in his mind. They looked up to see that both Charis and her companion had risen to their feet. The man was tall, much taller than Kieran had expected, with blond hair, a firm build, and an angry scowl on his face. But it was Charis that pulled his attention. There was fire in her eyes, and she looked every bit the cruel, heartless symposiarch Kieran had expected her to be.

But to his surprise, her anger wasn't directed at him. It was directed at his owner.

Why?

"You are going to sell that boy to me," she snarled. The warmth was gone from her voice. It cut Kieran to the bone, and despite himself, he curled closer to his owner, preferring the violence of the man to the knife of her voice, and the full brunt of her anger.

But then, almost a full second after registering the tone of her voice, his still-panicked mind finally registered what she said.

Sell him? To her?

"What?" Dryas cried, incredulous. His reaction very closely matched Kieran's own.

"You should never be allowed to own slaves, if that's how you treat them."

"Who are you to tell me how I treat my slave?"

"He's not yours anymore. You're selling him to me."

"The hell I am!"

It seemed as if all the anger suddenly melted off of Charis. She flashed him a friendly smile, and when she spoke, her voice had regained that warm, sweet timbre. The change was so sudden, so complete, it left Kieran stunned, confused, and terrified.

Who had that kind of emotional control?

"If you ever want a chance at membership, you're going to sell him to me," she said quietly. "Or if you don't, I will publicly denounce you and have you banned from every respectable symposium in the State."

"You wouldn't dare," Dryas exclaimed. But Charis pulled her checkbook from her purse.

"You said you paid fifty thousand drachmae for him? I'll give you forty. That should more than cover your loss."

Kieran's heart raced. He had no idea what to think as he watched the two of them face off. He didn't know which he should be more afraid of.

Charis gestured to her companion, a tall, muscular, blond man who very literally shook with anger as he stood quietly beside her. He saw her gesture and nodded his understanding, walking toward Kieran, rage etched into the lines of his face.

Fear gripped Kieran and he hid his face as the tall man bent down beside him. But the hands that touched him were gentle, and lifted him up as if he weighed nothing.

"It's alright," the man whispered, loud enough only for Kieran to hear. "The lights are on."

His fear momentarily forgotten, Kieran jerked his head up to meet the man's gaze, confused by his words.

Oh, he knew what the words meant. Every slave did. It was part of the hidden language of helots, one of the ways they communicated to each other without their owners knowing.

The lights are on was a verbal phrase that meant, "There's no danger, you're safe."

But how did this man know those words? And was he telling the truth?

Was he a slave? But he'd been sitting on the couch beside Charis, not on the floor at her feet. And Dryas had referred to him as one of his guests.

Wait, hadn't Dryas called him a neodamode? Kieran had simply brushed that off as another insult, but was it true? Was this man a helot? And had Charis Athanasiadi freed him?

It was possible, but extremely rare. This man was over 35, but only just, and he was strong, healthy, and attractive. If he was still whole, he could've been sold to a breeder. Or if not, he could've been sold to the State.

After years of paying to feed, clothe, and house slaves, owners were often eager to get whatever money they could. Even the owners that valued their slaves and refused to sell them once they hit 35 still kept them as slaves, making them pets.

To free a slave meant to lose any kind of control over him. Any owner can beat a slave. But beating a free citizen, even a neodamode, was assault.

Had this woman really freed this man?

Kieran was so stunned, he didn't even notice Dryas bickering with Charis about the price. The man holding him adjusted him and rested his head against his chest.

"I know you're scared," he told him. "Try to relax. We won't hurt you."

Kieran took a deep, shaky breath, trying to obey, but Dryas suddenly raised his voice, startling both him and the tall man holding him. The man whirled around to face them, and Kieran gasped when he saw Dryas' hulking form towering over Charis, mere inches from her, screaming in her face, flailing his arms.

Kieran flinched, the panic rising once again, knowing all too well the mood his owner was in. And if he was being sold to Charis, he could only imagine what kind of mood she'd be in after having her dignity attacked like that. Which didn't bode well for his first night under her ownership.

He'd heard stories about the beatings symposiarchs will dole out when they're in good moods. He didn't want to imagine the beating she would give him after being yelled at and humiliated by his former owner.

"It's alright," the man told him quietly. Kieran only then realized he'd been cowering against the taller man's chest. "He doesn't matter enough to get under her skin."

Kieran wanted to believe him, but that bitter voice inside him kept telling him all about the brutal night he had ahead of him.

He was terrified, but he tried to keep his mind in the present. In this moment, he felt safe in the strong arms of the tall man who held him. It felt good, being held like that. He felt protected, cared for, even cherished.

He couldn't control what would happen to him once he left with his new owners. But he could control what he chose to focus on. And no matter what happened to him once they left Dryas' house, he would enjoy the way it felt to be held so tightly.

Like he mattered.

Part Two

He sighed, tuning out the frightening sound of Dryas yelling at his new owner, and turned his head to nuzzle the man's chest. In response, the man's grip on him tightened, holding him even closer.

But then, the moment was over, and he was aware that his new owner was addressing the man who held him.

"Take him to the car," she ordered.

The man nodded, then they made their way through Dryas' house, not even pausing to pick up his tunic, and out the front door, where their SUV was parked. The man got into the backseat without letting Kieran go, adjusted him and laid him down across the backseat, with his head in the man's lap.

Charis got into the driver's seat, and they drove off in silence.

But the silence only lasted a moment.

"Ugh," Charis exclaimed. "What a wholly awful man."

"You knew he would be," the man told her, the fingers of one hand absently trailing through Kieran's hair.

"I didn't think he'd be that bad," she said. She looked over her shoulder at Kieran. "How is he?"

"Scared," the man answered. "Skinny as hell."

Charis nodded, turning her eyes back to the road. "He needs a good meal. And a hot bath."

"And a soft bed," the man added.

At the mention of a bed, Kieran tensed. He was still so sore from the last time Dryas had used him. The thought of being used again, so soon, made him cringe.

And of course, the man noticed his reaction. "Kieran?" he asked gently. "What's wrong?"

Kieran opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. And once more, fear seized him. It was the first question his new owners had asked him, and he couldn't be obedient enough to answer it.

Moaning softly, he turned to bury his face in the man's lap. This wasn't going to be a pleasant evening.

"Hey, it's alright," the man assured him. "You don't have to be afraid. We won't hurt you."

"It's the bed, Ilya," Charis said. "He thinks you mean our bed."

"Does that scare you?" the man named Ilya asked, running a soothing hand up and down Kieran's back. "To be used sexually?"

"I am yours, Dominus," Kieran managed to croak. "To be used any way you desire."

"We know," Charis said patiently. "That's not what he asked, though."

Kieran cringed again. His new owner was observant, and his normal tricks of dancing around the truth obviously wouldn't work with her.

He took a deep breath, trying to force himself to calm down. If he lied, and his observant new Domina saw through it, he would be punished. If he told the truth, and admitted that he was afraid of being used for sex, that could anger them, and he'd be punished.

"We won't hurt you," Charis assured him, turning back to him as she pulled up to a stop light. "No matter what happens, I give you my word on my Spartan blood that you will not be beaten or hurt in any way for the rest of the night, or for anything you may say tonight."

Kieran sucked in his breath, finding the courage to meet her gaze.

Spartans valued honor. And they valued their heritage, and their race. For a Spartan, to swear on one's blood was the deepest, most serious vow possible. Breaking it damaged the dignity, pride, and integrity of the entire Spartan race.

It was not a vow made lightly. Even for a trophimi, whose blood was only half Spartan.

Quite the opposite, it meant even more, in that case. Because breaking the vow meant she was more perioeci than Spartan, and that she could not uphold true Spartan values.

And she'd made that vow to a slave.

"Will you trust us now?" she asked after a moment. "We will have many questions for you over the rest of the night. No answer you give us will cause you to be punished. But there are things we're going to need to know about you, and we'll need you to answer honestly, even if you think the answer will anger us. I vow on my blood that you will not be punished for any answer you give. Will you trust me to hold to that vow?"

Kieran didn't know what to say. He could do nothing but nod dumbly, stunned at her words. She spoke to him like, like...

Like he was human.

"And can we trust you to answer us honestly?"

"Yes, Domina," he replied, finding his voice.

"Good boy," she said, turning back to the front as the light turned green.

And, just like the last time she'd said those words to him, he felt his cheeks flush, and his heart fluttered in his chest.

"So," Ilya said, getting his attention. "Does the idea of being used sexually scare you?"

Kieran hesitated, every part of him rebelling against telling them the truth. But he decided to trust his owner.

"Yes, Dominus," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

And his answer was met with a gentle hand caressing his back, and another softly cupping his face. "That's good, that's what we want. We want you to be honest with us, even when you're scared to. That's exactly what we want from you. You've done good."

Kieran sighed, relief washing over him. He'd never felt such a gentle touch, for so long, before. Ilya's hands on him felt amazing. So soothing.

"Why does it scare you?"

"My Dominus... I mean, my former Dominus, Lord Roubanis, liked it to hurt."

"How did he make it hurt?" Ilya asked, the hint of an edge to his voice.

"He... He liked to fuck me dry," Kieran answered haltingly. "Or to cut me... inside... before fucking me."

"Ilya," Charis said suddenly, her voice a warning. It wasn't until then that Kieran noticed that the hands on him had stilled, and gone tense.

Oh gods, he had gone too far. He'd angered his new owners, and they hadn't even gotten to their house yet.

"I'm calm," he said, his voice strained.

"Get calmer. You're scaring him."

Ilya took a deep breath. "It's alright," he said, caressing Kieran once again. "I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at the bastard who owned you. You haven't done anything wrong. You answered honestly, and that's exactly what we told you to do."