Written in Stone Pt. 01-02

He thought of her symposium, and the things Dryas and his friends said about it. He thought of the strangeness of a trophimi owning a symposium, and how everyone had expected her to fail.

But almost overnight, she became a sensation, and her symposium was the most sought-after one in all of Sparta. Within the first couple of years, she needed to buy a larger building. And it was only another year or so until she'd reached the capacity for the second, and bought a larger plot of land, designing and building her very own symposium.

He thought back, trying to remember. It seemed to be about three or four years ago that the new location had opened. And she flat-out refused to expand again, even once she reached her membership limit. Dryas had been particularly annoyed about that.

She'd even been interviewed by the news, and told them that if she got any bigger, she was afraid she'd lose the community feel and the closeness her current members shared. That even a larger profit wasn't enough to lose the camaraderie that was so central to symposium membership. That, because she was trophimi, she had the duty to uphold the Spartan values and the Spartan ties with other members of her symposium.

Dryas had scoffed, claiming that it was all puffed-up bullshit, an attempt to make herself look more Spartan by using Spartan ideals to mask her laziness.

There could be no doubting her success. Her symposium was the best, the helots that served there were the best, and she could even take helots that had been problem slaves when owned by a citizen and turn them into exemplary slaves for the symposium.

People claimed that she had a magic touch with the helots. That she could bend them, mold them, and control them to an uncanny degree. Any slave she sold, regardless of age, genetics, or past behavior, fetched inordinately high prices. There was even a rumor of a 40-year-old slave of the symposium, well-used by countless free people, being sold to a member for almost five thousand drachmae.

Was that part of the reason why? Was that why her helots were so much better? Because she treated them in this strange way?

"Here," she said, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the other half of the sandwich in her hand. His stomach growled at the sight.

"Still hungry?" she asked.

"Yes, Domina."

He expected her to hand him the sandwich, but instead, she broke a small piece off and held it out to him, feeding him the same way Ilya had.

He closed his eyes, leaning against her leg, and opened his mouth. She was quiet as she fed him, and he enjoyed the feeling of closeness and intimacy.

Dryas had never fed him like this, and even when his friends had, it had always been a sort of sexual game. It was up to him to keep their attention, to be as sensual as he could, so they wouldn't get bored and stop feeding him.

This wasn't like that. He didn't have to worry about turning her on. He could relax and enjoy the closeness, and the gentleness of her touch.

It was such a foreign feeling, not to have to worry about how long he had until she got bored. Somehow, he knew, he just knew, that she'd feed him the entire thing, whether he made it sensual or not.

More than that, he got the distinct impression that she wouldn't appreciate him being overly sensual. Not tonight, anyway. She'd told him that she wanted him to focus on being comfortable and relaxing, and she'd rejected him when he'd tried to serve her.

No, she didn't want him to be sexual now. She just wanted to feed him.

Maybe he could learn her ways, learn how to please her. It was becoming clearer to him that she wasn't nearly as complicated as he originally thought. Complex, certainly, but not complicated. She was straightforward and direct with him, without being cruel or rough. It seemed like he would not have to try and guess at how best to please her. That she would be forthright with that information, and make his job easier.

When she'd given him the whole thing, she caressed his face gently. "You've had a long day," she told him. "I want you to get some rest. You know where the bathroom is, if you need it. Other than that, I'd prefer you stay in here."

Kieran was confused about that. He wasn't going to be locked in the room?

Charis noticed his expression and hesitated. "This is your room," she told him. "Not your cage. I'm treating you like a person, remember? Not an animal."

"Yes, Domina."

"Someone will come to get you for breakfast."

Kieran looked around for a clock, and didn't see one. "What time should I be awake?" he asked.

But Charis shook her head. "Don't worry about that. If you're still asleep, then we'll wake you up. I don't want you to worry about being up and ready at a certain time. Not yet, anyway."

"Yes, Domina."

She smiled down at him, then kissed the top of his head before rising to her feet. "Goodnight, love," she said sweetly. "Sleep well. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Domina," Kieran replied awkwardly. Had anyone ever wished him goodnight before? He didn't really know how to feel about that. It was such an odd feeling, being treated like a person. How such a little thing, like saying goodnight, could shake him so deeply.

She left the room, closing the door behind her, and Kieran found himself alone. In a room with a bed. And an unbarred window.

Sighing, he got off the floor and climbed into the bed, trying to remind himself that he had permission to sleep there. The warmth and softness felt foreign, and sleep didn't come easily.

But he'd had a very long day, and before long, the warmth of the bed and his exhaustion won out, and he fell into the best sleep he'd had in a long time.