Written in Stone Pt. 01-02

"Yes, Dominus," Kieran said, willing himself to relax.

"How long had you been tied up before Dryas brought you out to meet us?" Charis asked.

Kieran looked up at her. How had she known he'd been kept tied up? Dryas wouldn't have volunteered that information.

She glanced back to see his questioning look. "I could tell by the way you moved," she explained patiently. "I've unfortunately seen many slaves move like that, when their arms and legs are still numb and tingling."

Kieran nodded. Of course she'd know about that. She was a symposiarch, after all.

"I'm not sure, Domina," he answered. "A couple of hours, I think? It's hard to judge."

"Did he leave you like that often?"

"Yes, Domina."

"What about food?" Ilya asked, running a hand along the thin boy's ribs. "How often did he feed you?"

Kieran shrugged. "Whenever he felt I deserved it, Dominus."

"And how often was that?" Charis pressed.

"Once every day or two."

"When is the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday morning. Lord Roubanis gave me his leftovers at breakfast."

Ilya cursed again, and Kieran flinched before remembering that the anger wasn't directed at him, and that the hands that touched him were still soft, still gentle.

"So about 36 hours ago," Ilya said through gritted teeth.

"Give or take," Charis added. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, not at them, but to her blind spot, then swerved across two lanes of traffic and made the next right.

The sudden jerk of the car scared Kieran, and he huddled closer to the man who held him. But, despite the edge to Ilya's voice and the tension in his jaw, he kept caressing the boy. "It's alright," he assured him. "We're just making a quick detour. To get you something to eat."

He paused, looking up to meet Charis' gaze in the rearview mirror. The corners of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. "Your owner is somewhat of an aggressive driver."

"Assertive," Charis corrected, making another turn. "I'm an assertive driver. Kieran, do you have any allergies? Dietary restrictions for health purposes?"

"No, Domina," Kieran replied, confused at the question. There were slaves with food allergies? But that would make more work for their owners. They'd lose so much of their value, because of that inconvenience.

"Where are you going?" Ilya asked.

"Cane's Kitchen," she answered. "I don't want to give him anything greasy or too heavy if his stomach isn't used to it."

Ilya looked at his watch. "It's after 9," he pointed out. "Are they still open?"

"The drive-thru is."

"Uh, Charis, we can't go through the drive-thru."

"Why not?"

"We left Dryas' in a bit of a rush, if you'll recall. And because we were in such a rush, our newest toy is very, very naked."

"Oh, shit," Charis said, looking back at Kieran. "I didn't even think about that. Is there anything we can use to cover him up?"

"Sit up, love," Ilya said, tapping Kieran lightly on the shoulder. He obeyed, watching as Ilya turned to look behind them, in the back of the SUV.

Kieran watched the man silently as he looked through whatever was back there. He was surprised to find that he'd liked it when Ilya had referred to him as their toy. Not that he'd ever been called that before, but it didn't seem like the kind of thing he would enjoy.

He certainly wouldn't have enjoyed it coming from Dryas.

"Well, this will work," Ilya said finally, reaching far back and pulling up a black raincoat. "It'll be a little big on you, but in this case, I think that's a good thing."

"Yes, Dominus," Kieran replied as Ilya helped him into the coat.

"Is he decent?" Charis asked as she turned into the parking lot of the restaurant.

"Yep," Ilya answered. "We won't be offending any delicate sensibilities tonight."

"Good."

She pulled up to the menu and turned her attention to the voice that greeted them over the speaker. Ilya looked to Kieran.

"Come on," he said, opening his arms invitingly. "You can lie back down if you want."

Kieran had already rested his head back in the man's lap before the words hit him.

If you want.

Wait, had he been given a choice?

No, no that couldn't be right. It was probably just a figure of speech. If Ilya really was a neodamode, maybe it was just habit to speak to slaves like that.

Or maybe he really had been given a choice. Given the way Ilya had treated him the entire night, Kieran couldn't put the possibility from his mind.

His new owners were nothing like he thought they'd be, and his first moments with them were such a refreshing change from the rest of his life.

He knew it wouldn't last, though. He didn't deserve the affection and the tenderness they were using with him. Sooner or later, he'd make a mistake, and they'd realize how undeserving he really is, and the kindness would stop.

Kieran felt a knot in the pit of his stomach at that thought. He didn't want the kindness to stop.

It's a new kind of torture, that bitter voice inside him said. You don't feel the sting of losing what you never had. They're being kind now so that it'll hurt that much more when they take it away.

Kieran shut his eyes, turning all of his focus to the feel of Ilya's hands on him. One hand on his head, stroking his hair, and the other moving up and down his back, then to the front, along his chest, ribs, and stomach.

He willed himself to be aware only of that touch, and to tune everything else out.

"Kieran," Charis called firmly, her voice cutting through the darkness in his mind. His eyes shot open, and he saw her turned toward him, holding a cup out to him.

How many times had she said his name? Oh gods, how many times had he ignored her?

"I'm sorry, Domina," he said quickly, sitting up to take the cup from her.

He expected her to be angry, but she was smiling patiently at him. "Daydreaming?" she asked, a playful note to her voice.

"Oh gods," Ilya groaned, stifling a laugh. "Another daydreamer? It's enough trouble keeping just one pair of feet on the ground."

"I'm sorry, Dominus," Kieran said quickly, his eyes wide with fear. He didn't want to be more trouble. He didn't want to be an inconvenience.

Bad things happen to slaves who become an inconvenience.

"I won't do it again," he continued, illogical panic taking hold. No, he didn't want to lose that kindness already. He wouldn't be any trouble. He wouldn't cause them any inconvenience. He wouldn't require any extra care.

"Kieran," Charis said sharply, pulling his focus out of his own mind and on to her. Once she had his attention, her voice softened. "Relax. We're teasing you. You're not in trouble."

"My slave is notorious for getting lost in his own head," Ilya explained. "He can be completely engaged in conversation one minute, and off in some fantasy world the next."

Kieran looked from one to the other, saw their pleasant expressions, and decided to ask the question in his mind.

"That doesn't annoy you, Dominus?" he asked, stunned at his own nerve for asking such a bold question. He half expected Ilya to backhand him.

But the blond man didn't seem upset. "Well, sure it does, a little bit," he answered. "But it's just part of who he is."

Who he is?

"But he's a slave," Kieran said.

"You have to understand, Kieran," Charis said. "The world you grew up in, the world you've lived in until now has been very small, and very black-and-white. All breeders are strict with their slaves, so the slaves don't become spoiled and lay expectations on their eventual owners, and Dryas was even more cruel. Our world doesn't work that way. Not everyone treats slaves the way you've been treated. Drink."

Kieran had completely forgotten about the cup in his hand, and lifted the straw to his lips. The cold, crisp water tasted like heaven, and he drank almost half of it before stopping.

Next, Charis handed him a small package wrapped in yellow paper. "Eat it slowly," she told him. "And only half now. You can have the other half in an hour or so."

Kieran nodded, accepting the rules. His stomach growled in protest of the idea that he could only eat half, but he thanked her anyway.

"You're emaciated," Charis explained, answering the question he wasn't brave enough to ask. "You're hungry, but your digestive system isn't working as well as it should. If you eat too much, too fast, you'll shock your system, and you'll make yourself sick. And you'll end up vomiting it all back up anyway, which will make you even worse off than you are now. You will never be made to go hungry while you're mine, but it'll take a few days to wake your system back up and get your body used to eating normal amounts of food on a regular basis."

"Yes, Domina," he said, relieved. So he wouldn't be starved anymore.

Assuming she's telling the truth, the bitter voice inside him said.

He ignored it, turning his attention to the sandwich wrapped in paper. It was simple and plain, just a couple thick slices of turkey and some lettuce on whole wheat bread, but when he bit into it, it was the most delicious thing in the world.

"Slowly," Ilya reminded him as Charis pulled out of the parking lot. "Here, give it to me. Lie back down in my lap, that's a good boy."

His stomach grumbling loudly, he obeyed, curious, when Ilya turned him, positioning him on his back. He looked up, watching, as the older man broke off a small piece of the sandwich.

He held the piece to Kieran's lips. "Open," he ordered softly.

When Kieran obeyed, Ilya gently placed the food on his tongue. "There you go, that's better."

It took all Kieran's willpower to keep from snatching the sandwich from his owner, but he had to admit, he liked being fed like this. It was sweet, and gentle, and Kieran felt... he felt comfortable. Which was a very foreign feeling.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been comfortable around the one who owned him.

All too soon, Ilya wrapped the sandwich back up. "Alright, that's all you get for now."

The whine escaped Kieran before he could check himself. Gasping, he clapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide.

Too comfortable. He'd gotten too comfortable. He'd let his guard down, he let himself stop being so vigilant, and he'd forgotten to regulate his behavior.

And he'd just whined at something his owner told him.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, tears pricking his eyes as he turned, moving to slide off the seat and crouch at Ilya's feet. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Above him, he heard Charis sigh.

"It's going to take a while to break him of that habit, isn't it?" Ilya asked her.

She nodded. "Dryas was his first owner. That's all he knows."

Ilya sighed in response, then reached down to touch Kieran's shoulder. "Hey," he said softly. "Come on back up here. You're not in trouble."

Kieran whimpered softly, forcing himself to let go of Ilya's foot and let himself be picked up and placed back on the seat.

Ilya caressed him reassuringly. "Eventually, you'll learn that you don't have to be afraid of us," he said.

"We're home," Charis declared, pulling into the garage.

Kieran's heart skipped a beat as Ilya opened the door and climbed out.

"Come on," he said gently, holding out his hand.

Nervously, Kieran took the older man's outstretched hand and let himself be helped out of the car. He huddled next to Ilya, clutching the raincoat around himself.

Charis walked around the car and took Kieran's hand. "Let's go inside. I'll show you to your room."

His room?

Kieran didn't understand her words, but didn't argue as he was led through the large house. Charis took him upstairs, down a hallway, and stopped at a door. "This will be your room," she told him, opening the door and leading him inside.

Kieran looked around, trying to wrap his brain around what he was seeing.

The room was small and modest, but comfortable. A full-sized bed dominated the center of the room, with what looked like a soft, thick comforter laid on neatly on it. And pillows.

Beside the bed was a small bedside table with a simple lamp and two drawers. On the opposite wall stood a wide, sturdy dresser.

He stood in the center of the room, gazing at the window above the bed, stunned to see that there were no bars there.

This couldn't be his room, could it?

Charis walked to the dresser and pulled out a clean tunic. "Here," she said, handing it to him, along with a belt and small pin. "Take these. You've had quite a night. I think you could definitely go for a long, hot bath."

Kieran's heart leapt nervously in his chest at the thought of servicing her in the bath. Maybe she'd just make him bathe her, and it wouldn't go any further than that.

But it didn't matter. She was his owner, and he belonged to her. Whatever she wanted, he would do. She'd already been kinder to him than he could have possibly imagined. It was completely within her right to experience the property she'd just purchased.

And he would be obedient, and would give her whatever she wanted.

Obey.

She led him down the hall and into a large, clean bathroom. Dominating the center of the room was a big tub. Without a word, Charis sat on the edge of the tub and turned it on, taking a moment to test the water.

Once she was satisfied, she rose to her feet and walked to a door near the back of the room. She opened it and pulled out a thick blue towel and a small washcloth.

"Here," she said, gesturing him over to her as she set the items down on the edge of the tub. He was surprised as he obeyed, nearing her. She'd actually gotten his things for him, and had drawn his bath for him.

Why?

"Go on, get in."

"Yes, Domina," Kieran said hesitantly as he stepped into the warm water.

"Lean back, get comfortable. Try to relax."

There was no chance of that happening, no matter how much Kieran tried. His heart pounded, wondering what she would do. The tub was more than big enough to accommodate them both, and two more besides, but she kept her clothes on and stayed at the edge of the tub, making no move to join him.

What was she going to do to him?

"Your hair smells good, so I'm sure Dryas bathed you earlier today," she explained, reaching behind her to grab a large bottle. "This isn't so much to get you clean, as to help you relax. And the heat will keep your muscles from getting stiff."

"Yes, Domina," he murmured, watching as she tipped the bottle over and poured a sweet-smelling, clear liquid into the water.

"This will help your muscles, too," she told him. "Give it time to work, and to soak into your skin. Take all the time you want. When you're finished, dry off and come back to your room. You can leave the wet towel here on the tub."

Kieran furrowed his brow. She was leaving him alone?

So she didn't want him to service her?

"What is it?" she asked, seeing his troubled expression.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. So she waited, patiently, watching him, until he found the words he was looking for, and the courage to say them out loud.

Her patience seemed to have no end.

"I... I thought... I thought you'd want me to..." As hard as he tried, he couldn't make himself finish the sentence.

"Ah," she said, nodding in understanding. "You thought I'd want to use you."

Blushing madly, all he could do was nod.

"Not quite yet," she said gently. "You've had a very long day. I want you relaxed and comfortable. That's your focus for now."

"Yes, Domina," he replied as she rose to her feet.

"And, whether you want to admit it to me or not, my presence is not going to help you relax. Take whatever time you need. When you're ready, go back to your room."

"Yes, Domina."

He was even more confused than he'd been before he'd asked the question, but she had already turned and left the room.

Why did she care if he was relaxed and comfortable? Why did it matter? And how could she possibly want his focus on himself, rather than her?

That went against everything he'd ever known. He'd been raised by a breeder, he'd spent his entire life as a slave, and he'd never even fathomed the kinds of things she was saying and doing.

He hadn't paid enough attention to hear how much she'd ended up paying for him, but he knew damn well that he wasn't cheap. What was the point of paying all that, including the costs of keeping him, if he wasn't going to be completely focused on her?

And didn't they mention another slave? Did they have more slaves? Where were they? Did they have their own rooms, as well?

Sighing, he leaned back. He had a feeling it was useless trying to figure her out. But that, in itself, was unnerving. This was his new owner, the one who had his very life in her hands. He wanted to be able to understand her, and more importantly, understand how to please her. His survival depended on it.

After the water turned cold, he sighed again, pulling the plug at the bottom of the tub and rising to his feet. He quickly dried off, dressed, and made his way back down the hall, to the room she'd said was his.

She was there, waiting for him, sitting on the bed. She smiled at him as he came in.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"Yes, Domina," he replied, his heart rate climbing. Now must be the moment. Now that he was clean, and had been given the opportunity to relax, she was surely expecting him to please her, to show gratitude for her kindness.

He dropped to his knees and crawled to her, watching her for cues as to what she wanted. But she sat still, watching him with a curious expression on her face.

Her expression didn't change as he neared her. His heart pounding, he nuzzled her knee, rubbing his cheek against the soft, smooth material of her peplos. Here, he hesitated, waiting for her reaction.

There was a slight pause, then she placed a gentle hand on his head, running her fingers delicately through his hair, and caressing the back of his neck.

Kieran took that as an invitation and ran his hand slowly up her leg, starting at her ankle, and working up, under her peplos, to her knee.

"No, love," she said softly, gently. Her touch was constant and reassuring, and helped guard against the panic that her rejection sprouted.

Why didn't she want him to serve her? Was there something wrong with him? Did she not find him attractive?

Good gods, what happened to a slave who wasn't thought to be appealing by his owner?

Suddenly her touch became firm, without losing the gentleness, and cupped his face, pulling him up to look at her. "It's alright," she assured him, seeing the panic on his face. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"Why don't you want me?" he asked impulsively, stunned at his own nerve in saying it out loud.

She gave him a soft smile and caressed his cheek. "You're used to being treated a certain way," she told him. "It's a way that I don't agree with."

Kieran didn't understand. "Domina?" he asked, hoping for some kind of clarification.

"You're mine," she explained patiently. "I own you. I want you to enrich my life. And I believe that a helot who is treated with dignity, who is given a voice, makes a better slave. You're my property, but you're also a person. I believe you will serve me better and enrich my life further if you're given the opportunity to be who you are, not just as my slave, but as a man."

Kieran didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't even really know what to think about it. Hell, even being called a man threw him off guard. He'd never thought of himself as a man before. He'd always been Dryas' property. And before that, he'd been Aktaion Euphemis' property.