Possessions Ch. 12

As the night passed, Trivalm had tried to stay awake, eyes on the cage, waiting to see if Ebon would attempt to slip off again. He didn't, much to Trivalm's irritation.

The next day, a smug looking Allek was waiting outside of Sarantha's door as they departed for their morning meal, reminding Trivalm of his day's planned education. It was enough to make him forget about the cage.

Trivalm was torn. He knew Sarantha well enough to know that she would not allow him to come to any harm. He also knew her well enough to know that her definition of "harm" differed drastically from his own. She either anticipated or sensed his apprehension because as soon as she settled the child, she directed him to sit on a cushion next to her chair, where Ivory would normally kneel. He wasn't instructed to kneel, and not corrected when he sat, his forearms resting on his bent knees. He tried to think of what the change in positioning could mean, but could only concentrate on one thing. After he finished his meal, Sarantha began to stroke his hair. Gently, as if to comfort, she guided his head to rest on her thigh.

It felt odd, accepting such comfort. The position and the gesture was soothing, making him want to relax into the role, even as his skin prickled with apprehension. But he forced himself to remember that it was Sarantha who was causing such distress, Sarantha who was putting him in this position.

Finally, she looked down at him. Slowly, without speaking, Trivalm lifted his head to look back, silently hoping she would see the terror in his eyes. For the first time since he was a child, he prayed for pity.

A small smile flirted on her lips. "Are you sure you do not wish herbs to calm you, little slave? I will be speaking with the King; I will not be able to come soothe you."

"No, Mistress. No herbs." Trivalm tried to keep his voice even, but it came out as a plea, one he knew reached his eyes.

"As long as you don't require them, I will not force them on you." She gave a small sigh. "Come."

He obediently trailed after his Mistress, his unease growing as Alaliya fell into step beside her, and Allek behind him. When the group reached the intricately carved door, Allek stepped to the front of the group and knocked. When it opened, no questions were asked. Trivalm supposed that with his boy living here, the Captain was a frequent visitor.

The free citizens moved through the door. Trivalm knew he should follow. He knew that if he didn't, he would be made to follow, and punished for such blatant disobedience and disrespect. But his feet wouldn't move. The trio turned back to look at him. Alaliya frowned. Allek smirked. Sarantha said something, but Trivalm couldn't hear over the roaring in his ears. Those lips pursed, showing her displeasure. A slight tilt of her head, and those lips moved again. Trivalm's eyes slid to the open doors, seemed to catch on an image of two men, one on his hands and knees with his buttocks pressed against another man's groin. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. He couldn't do this.

A hand on his bicep startled him. His eyes snapped forward. He expected Sarantha, but instead found Alaliya standing before him. Her eyes held a sympathy he'd never seen from her before. She almost looked human in that moment.

Trivalm shook his head, trembling, his voice shaky. "No. I can't." He took a step back. He hadn't fled in fear since he was a child.

"Yes, you can, General." It was nearly a whisper. It was the first time that Alaliya had referred to any of them as anything other than "slave" or their name.

It caught Trivalm's attention, as it was meant to. "You don't understand."

"I do. Calm yourself. You will do this because it is ordered of you. Your Mistress commands your education. We have done for you what we can in this matter. Convince her. To do that you must convince the boy." She pressed her lips for a second, as if thinking. "Do not make this harder on yourself than it need be." With that, without waiting to see if he would respond, her voice returned to it's normal commanding tone. "Come, slave. Or Captain Allek will assist you."

Even though he knew it was foolish, Alaliya's words strengthened him more than anything else could have. The previous day he had been worried at her involvement, but it seemed she supported him, honestly cared for his best interests and mental health in that moment. Vaguely, he remembered overhearing a conversation in the training room. Alaliya never forced sex on anyone, not even slaves, for any reason. Alaliya didn't agree with this, but neither she or Ehrik had ever denied Sarantha anything.

But he didn't have time to try to figure out the woman's motivations. Even though Alaliya's back was to him, Sarantha and Allek's eyes were still glued to him expectantly.

Slowly, Trivalm forced one foot to slide in front of the other. The act was exhausting, as if he were a babe taking his first steps. Eventually, they got to the room they had visited before, the one that homed Allek's boy.

As soon as they entered, Braym jumped to his feet. The poor boy looked worried. "Master, I must speak with you. Please."

If Trivalm had been thinking clearly, he would have heard the panic in the boy's voice, would have realized that this was a conversation he should pay attention to. But the only thing Trivalm could do was stare at the dungeon chair situated in the room. It was similar to the one Alaliya had strapped Raikol into on their first day there, but had obviously been modified to be more severe. There were more straps, which were thicker. As Trivalm focused on them, he noticed the insides of them had some type of studded metal on them. In addition to the strap across the forehead, there was one lower, across the throat. Trivalm tried to focus, to pay attention to the conversation taking place just feet from him. The only thing that snapped him out of his stupor was Sarantha's gentle hand on his cheek.

"You will inform me immediately should anything inappropriate happen. The boys here know they are not to touch you. Their owners understand the order comes from me. You will watch and learn."

Trivalm could only stand mute, staring down at her.

"You will be fetched for midday meal, but Braym will give you water if you desire it. If you behave, I have given him permission to allow you movement. If you give him any trouble, misbehave in any way, it will be his owner to dole punishment. Do not disappoint me, little slave."

And then she was gone. Trivalm didn't even remember her turning to leave but suddenly she was absent in the room. He also didn't remember Allek or Alaliya moving. Before Trivalm could process what was happening, a cloth was placed over his nose and mouth. Taking a deep breath, Trivalm...

...Slowly lifted his head. The room seemed to be shifting and his temples throbbed dully. He attempted to lift his hands, to massage the ache away, but pain encircled his wrists when he tried. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, desperate to clear his mind and focus. When he opened them Braym's frowning face filled his vision.

"Drink." The boy pressed a cup to the other slave's lips, huffing when the stubborn man didn't obey. "The pain won't go away until you drink. It will get worse."

Trivalm still refused. He would not take anything from this boy, didn't trust it not to be laced with herbs.

Braym seemed disinterested. He simply stood in front of Trivalm until the bound slave's face started to twist with anguish. Finally, Trivalm, unable to take the incessant pounding, tipped his face and opened his mouth to take the water offered to him. The more that slid down his throat, the more the throbbing eased and his vision cleared. Greedily, he gulped down the entire cup, gasping for more when it was gone. He was thankful when the boy obliged.

Braym moved back to his bed and sat silently. The two slaves spent several moments simply staring at each other wearily, their minds working to solve two very different problems.

Trivalm opened his mouth just as the boy spat out, "I won't release you."

Trivalm snapped his mouth shut, trying to think of any way to get out of this. Hell, he didn't even know exactly what this was! He had no idea what was in store for him, what instructions the boy had been given, what rewards he was promised if he obeyed.

Rewards.

"I will get you anything you want. Sarantha will reward me for doing well. I will ask her for whatever you want. It's yours. Just name it. What do you want?" Trivalm hadn't meant to ramble, but he did, trepidation making him nearly incoherent.

Braym simply smiled wanly at him. "What do you think you can get that my Master wouldn't give me simply for asking?"

Trivalm couldn't answer that. Instead he took what was meant to be a steadying breath. "What are you going to do?"

The younger man's eyebrows shot up. "You mean am I going to rape you?" He sneered when Trivalm paled. "No. Do you honestly believe that Sarantha would allow such a thing?"

Again, Trivalm had no answer. Would she allow a man to rape him, as she seemed to understand rape? No. Absolutely not. He remembered her pathetic little whimper to the Keepers. Her soft "I am not a rapist" had been so desolate that the very idea of her allowing such a fate to befall him was absurd. In addition, he had already been educated on this country's, and especially this Keep's, view of rapists. It was actually very simple: Rapists aren't people. They deserve to suffer.

But Sarantha didn't view what she did to Drimelk, forcing him to allow Ivory to ride him to completion, even as the slave had wept and begged, as rape. Trivalm knew the other slave would never describe the event as such, never speak of such shame, but that's what it had been. Perhaps when it was just Ebon and Ivory, Sarantha's games and competitions and fun were just that -- Games and competitions and fun. It never occurred to her that the War Slaves, with their much stricter and more conservative culture, interpreted the events much differently.

Braym must have took his silent musing as him being unsure. "She wouldn't. Sarantha cares about you, whether you deserve it or not." The statement was almost an accusation. "You have a kind Mistress. The other two here too. Not all of the War Slaves were so lucky. You should be more grateful." His words held a sneer. As if realizing he had been unkind, the boy looked away, eyes closed and lips pressed together. He took a deep breath, steadying himself better than Trivalm had. When he looked back at the bound slave, Braym was calmer, the irritation gone from his eyes. "I will leave you ungagged and your head free. Today, unless I receive other orders from my Master, we will talk. A few of my friends will come to visit, as normal. We will cuddle, maybe kiss. That is all. Nobody is permitted to touch you without your permission. This order comes from your Mistress, Sarantha." A small smirk touched his lips. "If you decide you'd like to be touched, I know plenty of boys who would love to help with your education. They will show you all the fun places women haven't found to touch a man."

"Ooh." The voice was full of amusement.

The new voice made Trivalm jerk in his binds, causing pain to erupt every place a strap was laid across his skin. He vaguely remembered to metal studs, but he hadn't been cognizant enough to examine them at the time and it was too late now.

A pale man with shoulder length golden hair sauntered into the room and plopped himself down into a chair. His pants were loose on his hips, and he was shirtless. His entire demeanor screamed sass and easy comfort. When he spoke, his drawl reminded Trivalm of a foreigner he had once met, though the accent wasn't as pronounced.

"What are we doing to a man?"

"Nothing." Braym's tone was definitive. "No touching. At all."

"No touching at all? And here I heard you were up for grabs as long as we put on a show for the sanctimonious little prude." Lazily, he rose and sauntered over to where Braym now stood next to the bed. "As soon as I heard, I knew I had to get right over here. It's been so long since we've had any fun. I miss watching my cock disappear between your lips, watching your throat work to swallow my seed." The blond slave skimmed his lips along Braym's neck. "I've missed you since your Master decided he can't share. I'm glad he changed his mind."

Braym sighed. "He didn't change his mind, Markkus. I can only play as far as Trivalm's education is benefited. Today, I can kiss."

Markkus was unfazed, continuing to skim his lips along Braym's neck to nibble on the smaller man's collarbone. "Mmm. Kiss where?"

Braym laughed, his head tipped back just slightly, to give the other slave better access.

Trivalm's stomach churned, watching the two men in their intimate moment. They both seemed content, happy with the affections of the other man -- affections that were only meant to come from a woman. And that churned Trivalm's stomach all the more. For the sake of his very sanity though, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the couple.

"Stop!" The word hissed through clenched teeth as Trivalm fought down bile. "Stop it!"

Markkus lifted his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. He sauntered over to Trivalm's chair. Placing his hands on the back, on either side of the bound slave's head, he leant down until their eyes were level. He held his position until Trivalm averted his eyes.

"Don't touch him." Braym's warning seemed weak, as if he knew it was a losing battle.

Markkus ran a finger down Trivalm's cheek, chuckling when the bound slave's only acknowledgement was a tensing of muscles. "Oh, come now, little slave." The endearment was mocking, as if he knew how Trivalm hated the words. "As far as friends go, we are the best you are going to get." He ran his finger tip over Trivalm's lips, ignoring when he jerked his head even further away. "And as far as enemies, we are the worst you are going to get." Markkus moved so the bound slave could feel his breath on his ear. "If anything happens to Braym because you are here, your life will be more of a hell than it already is."

"Markkus, don't touch him!" Braym seemed afraid.

The blond stood. "I will give my apologies to his Mistress. It isn't often that I see Lady Sarantha anymore."

Markkus turned to Braym, grinning, and gave the anxious boy a leisurely kiss. And with that he sauntered out of the room.

"Markkus is a good man. But his owner lets him get away with a lot. He is... spirited. He meant no harm." There was worry in Braym's voice.

Before Trivalm could make sense of that seemed to be a plea, another younger man, somehow even smaller than Braym, entered the room.

"Markkus looked upset. Were you being stingy with him?" The boy thought nothing of pressing his body against Braym's in a warm embrace. "It is sweltering in the other rooms, much too warm to cuddle. But yours is always so cool."

Braym laughed. "I'm not sure if you are using me for my room, or my cuddles."

"Both." But the boy's attention was no longer on Braym. He eyed Trivalm suspiciously. "He is truly bound? He can't free himself?"

Instead of answering, Braym turned the boy to face Trivalm. "This is Tico. He is one of Captain Millier's slaves. He is a submissive, meaning that he is used. That is all."

Trivalm sneered, disgusted that Braym would speak of the other slave in such a way, especially in his presence. "And I suppose he likes that?"

Tico smiled. "I like pleasing the customers. If I do well, my Master does not rent me to any of the sadists." The boy seemed stupidly happy at that prospect.

Braym winced, but didn't address the statement. "Do you want cuddles, Tico?"

"Yes." The boy was already crawling into Braym's bed. "Your Master shouldn't be so selfish with you. You don't even make him any money."

For several minutes, the two men laid on the bed. Braym reclined with several pillows propping him up as Tico curled against his side. Braym stroked the other slave's head where it rested in his upper abdomen. A few other men and boys popped in and out of the room. Some invited Braym to random activities they were en route to, others just chatted before leaving. A few times, Braym seemed genuinely disappointed that he was unable to leave the room with his friends. Every once in a while, Tico would glance up at Braym, who would lift the boy's head to press a kiss to it before settling back on the bed.

Trivalm tried to look away, but his eyes would find their way back to the couple lazily relaxing on the bed. They seemed content, comfortable.

"Does it affect you?" The deep voice came from the doorway.

Trivalm turned his head to look at the man standing just inside the room. His skin was a rich chocolate and he was large and muscled. His hair was shorn close to his scalp and a small gold hoop decorated his nostril. Trivalm recognized him from the training rooms, but had never interacted with him. Why was he here?

"It disgusts me." Trivalm sneered.

"Happiness disgusts you?" He sounded half amused and half intrigued.

"No. You know what I meant." Trivalm tried to calm his temper, tried not to take the bait that was so obviously being dangled.

"Homosexuality disgusts you."

"Yes! It's nauseating!" Trivalm barked at the man.

"Does it affect you though?" When Trivalm's eyes narrowed on him, the man continued. "Their happiness, their appeasement in each other, does it affect you? Does it change your meals? Or alter your lodgings?"

Trivalm pressed his lips together, refusing to humor this man. This man who Braym was inconspicuously ignoring. Trivalm could not help but wonder why? The boy had acknowledged every other visitor to his room.

"I imagine it does not." The man sank into a seat. "I imagine that any other person's desires or pleasures should mean very little to you."

"What do you want?" Trivalm hissed.

"You gone." The man was blunt. "Every level, every caste, has its politics. You being here endangers Braym, makes him a target. Not everyone here is a friend, and not every soldier believes that Sarantha deserves the treatment she receives in this Keep."

Trivalm filed the knowledge away, wondering if there was a possible ally out there. "All Braym has to do is tell Sarantha that I did well in my lessons-"

The man cut him off. "Then Sarantha will ask you. You will lie and say you are cured of this - if you don't mind my saying, most unbecoming - homophobia, and she will know instantly that you speak untruths." He looked almost contemplative. "It is interesting. The woman can sniff out a lie better than any interrogator in Ehrik's Keep. Except..." He trailed off, shrugging. "She will know you are lying, then you will be here longer." He gave a wry smile. "The only way to have you gone, permanently, is to cure you." He stood. "Unfortunately, I was a bit occupied today. We will finish our discussion tomorrow."

Within moments of the man walking out, Allek walked in. "Midday meal." And he pressed that cloth over Trivalm's nose and mouth again.