1. The Compound

Every dog in the city had the name its owner had given it. You can’t expect a bitch to name her whelps. They left it up to their slaves to name their own children, but slaves didn’t consider themselves important enough to have names, nor did they feel they needed one. They called each other by the work they performed in the household – cook, laundress, charioteer – which is how their owners summoned them. If their slaves had names they would probably not have used them anyway. Those few who got to leave the compound appended their master’s name to their calling – Reptron’s goatherd, Glavin’s marketer, etc. Those who had no regularly designated responsibilities or who shared their jobs with others they referred to by some physical characteristic, like Broken Finger, the Twins, Big-Breasted Sweeper, or Slender Vegetables, again following the masters’ example, who gave their dogs names like “Black Ears” and “Patch at the Base of His Tail”.

Children below the age of eight or so were simply known as “boy” or “girl” and assigned miscellaneous chores. For the boys these chores often consisted of running errands. It wasn’t safe for a girl to leave the compound. If she were raped her value would go down. The boys ran less of a risk, and if anything happened to them it didn’t affect their resale price. As a result, unlike the girls, they were more often used for sex within the confines of the compound, both by their owners and by the adult slaves, for men and women slept in separate quarters and could only couple if their owner gave his permission. They did this at night in a room with five sleeping mats that saw little use. As for the masters’ children, until they were fully grown they never went out without an escort, a sensible if not entirely necessary precaution, since anyone would recognize them by their clothing as the children of free men. Except for the overseers and the priests, who wore loincloths as a badge of their higher status, slaves went about naked, with no more than a shawl to throw over their shoulders in cold weather. Citizens never appeared naked in public, nor even in front of their own slaves, except those who dressed them, their masseur, and, of course, the bath attendants, the herbalist and the slaves they brought to their quarters for sex.

Legally, the Master had full authority over all who lived with him – family, slaves, and hired workers (often the property of another man) – and acted as their religious leader, but he himself got his name from the compound he owned. Peshok, for example, was Master of Ixtendor’s, the great-uncle from whom he’d inherited it. Nor did he have final say over what went on there, but deferred to his great-aunt Chagga, Ixtendor’s widow. The ancient crone, despised in her youth for having produced only girls, had outlived her own generation and that of her children, and now ruled the three succeeding generations with an iron fist. Similarly, though in theory all the slaves belonged to Peshok, personal servants bore the names of the family members for whom they performed their duties.

Ixtendor’s was among the largest compounds in the city, the size of a small village. Few guests passed beyond the public rooms surrounding the front courtyard with its mosaic fountain and lush flower beds. If they came from far away they stayed in the visitors’ room, where water was brought from the fountain for them to wash. Beyond lay a maze of alleys lined with the dwellings of relatives, some with a second story and a roof terrace, the baths, a prayer room, and then the slaves’ quarters, workshops and storerooms around an open square with a well in the center, and a kitchen with two ovens. Except for those designated as the personal servant of a member of the family, all the slaves slept together in two large rooms, one for the men and boys over five, another for the women and their infants, or on rare occasions in the smaller coupling room between them. The men’s and women’s rooms had private cubicles built into the wall for the priests and overseers. Behind where the slaves slept, against the rear wall, were the vegetable gardens and the stables, with a separate door that opened onto the fields.

No particular sanctity was attached to the priests and priestesses, nor did they participate in the religious functions of the household. Like the other slaves, each had his or her daily tasks. The title meant only that they might be called on to prepare the ritual items needed for some ceremony. On those occasions they got to eat special foods and bathed together in the heated pool reserved for the family, their only privileges besides their loincloth and private sleeping cubicles.

Only a handful of slaves – marketers, porters, escorts, the goatherd, etc. – ever stepped outside the compound except to help in the harvest. Even the gatekeepers never ventured more than a few feet from the entrance. They knew nothing of the world outside, and were content with the existence they had been born to. Having no names of their own, they did not think of themselves as individuals. They meekly submitted to the rare reprimands and beatings they deserved, and their greatest fear was that the master might sell them and they would vanish like the corpses that were carried out the back gate and dumped into the sea.

2. The Caretaker of Metal Objects

Out of earshot of the Master’s family, the other slaves spoke of him in awed whispers as the Father of Free Men. He had many names. Openly, they usually called him Golden Eyes, as they had before he became the Caretaker of Metal Objects. Though no one could say for sure what his private duties were, they also knew him as Keriter’s cocksucker, which was how the Master referred to his son’s favorite. He owed other names to Keriter’s infatuation as well – Covered Phallus and His Own Cubicle, because in his jealousy the Master’s son wanted all of him all to himself. The second was a joke. The cubicle would remain empty for weeks on end while the slave lay with Keriter until midnight and then joined his priestess in the coupling room, a favor Peshok had granted them in the hope his son would learn to control his lust. So he owed yet another name to Keriter: Beds the Priestess of Scents. A man who resented his privileges had once disparagingly suggested they call him Threesome, and was sold to the mines as punishment.

As a child, until he’d moved into the men’s sleeping room, he had shared a mat with the girl who would later become the Priestess of Scents. Both children had shown their talents at an early age. The gardener recognized her sense of smell the first day she was sent to cut flowers, and the boy’s dexterity at weaving baskets had called him to the attention of the armorer, who rightly suspected he had the ability to fashion fine jewelry and took him under his wing at the forge. If children had names, they might both have been called Beauty, and they grew more beautiful as they matured, with perfect teeth and flawless skin. She had straight, dark, lustrous hair that came down to her wide waist and ample buttocks made for childbearing, and below her small, firm breasts with their protuberant nipples that reminded one of lemons, her belly curved in a gentle mound suggestive of the early months of pregnancy. Golden Eyes’ broad shoulders, narrow hips and rippled abdomen exuded a male sexuality that complemented her femininity. Before he became Keriter’s cocksucker he’d worn only a band around his forehead to keep the sweat out of his eyes when he worked the forge, his curly, shoulder-length hair tied behind him with copper wire, and the female slaves would grow moist inside at the sight of the dimples indenting his tight buttocks and the large endowment that hung between his muscular thighs.

Keriter first saw him thus when Peshok brought him to choose a dagger for his thirteenth birthday: a tall, muscular man in his early twenties, his body glistening with sweat in the light of the forge. The boy knew at once which dagger he wanted, and kept his eye on it as he chose his gift, carefully lifting the bronze weapons one by one, feeling their weight, testing their sharpness, caressing each blade. The genitals of the male household slaves had fascinated him since before he could remember, but he didn’t dare ask for one for his bed, and hid his ogling as best he could. As Peshok’s eldest son and heir, he was expected to desire women. He envied his cousins Kiprimel and Molza, the sons of his father’s youngest brother. Not much older than he, they shared a mat in a back room of their father’s house, and the man servant who waited on them spent his nights with them. Everyone knew about their orgies, but no one said a word, and Chagga put no pressure on their father to find wives for them. To enjoy their privileges Keriter would have gladly surrendered his inheritance to Skandrit, his infant brother, but such things were unheard of. He would have to marry and wait until he was master to fulfill his desires.

Face to face with the Caretaker of Metal Objects he could no longer control his lust. He was trembling, and cut his finger on one of the blades, nearly to the bone. The man saw, took the finger in his mouth to suck it clean, and bound it in a strip of linen. The boy felt that if he stayed there a moment longer he would fall to his knees and lick the sweat off this beautiful slave in front of his father. “Let him choose for me, burnish it, and bring it to my room after dinner,” he said. “He knows more about weapons than I do.” Then he fled the workroom and leaned back on the wall just outside the door to support himself, flushed and breathing deeply. The naked slaves passed back and forth in front of his eyes unnoticed.

Peshok followed his son out and asked if he were ill.

Keriter shook his head. “It was the heat. How does he bear it?”

Walking back to the family area, he worked up the nerve to ask his father, “Can I have him for my personal servant?”

“Who?”

“The slave at the forge.”

“The Caretaker of Metal Objects? No, his place is with the bronze weapons and vessels and the gold jewelry.”

“Is he very good at his job?”

“The best.”

“Kiprimel and Molza have a personal servant. Shouldn’t I as heir have one too? Aren’t I old enough?”

“Is that what you want him for? I can’t say I blame you; at your age I also idolized perfect men. But you’d do better to take a girl so you’ll learn how to please your wife when you marry.”

“I want him,” the boy answered, surprised at his own daring.

“Then he’s yours,” Peshok answered, no less surprised at the sudden precociousness of a son whom he’d always thought of as shy. “Summon him as often as you like. What’s stopping you? Just make sure he gets enough sleep to return to work in the morning.”

*****

Golden Eyes had the burnished dagger wrapped in a red cloth when the escort came to lead him to the young master. He’d never been in the outer sections of the compound before and didn’t know the way. He expected to deliver the dagger and return directly; it would take a few minutes at most. Slaves were often summoned to bring some item or other to a member of the family, and they always came right back, sometimes rewarded with a piece of fruit, so it surprised him when the escort led him to the baths and left him in the care of two female attendants. He thought he’d made himself sufficiently presentable by sponging the sweat from his body beside the well. They soaped him from head to toe and scraped away the dead skin before they had him soak in the heated pool. No woman had ever touched his genitals – his two requests to couple with the Priestess of Scents had been refused – and he grew hard when they lathered between his legs, unaware that Keriter was watching in the shadows. He saw a figure slip away while he was soaking in the pool, but didn’t recognize the young master.

He was more puzzled when the Priestess of Scents appeared with perfumes for his body and he saw the look of consternation on her face. The attendants anointed him, placed a shawl around his shoulders to protect him from the night air, and led him to a large house by the eastern wall. He followed them up an outside staircase to a wide terrace overlooking the city. In a row on the compound side were four apartments. They knocked on the door closest to the stairs.

“Have him wait until you reach the street,” he heard the young master say. “Then he can open the door and bring me the dagger. He needn’t knock.”

Golden Eyes stood by the wall and looked out over the city he had never seen until he could no longer hear their footsteps in the alley, wondering at the formalities that accompanied the presentation of a simple gift. Was the dagger meant for the ritual of his entry into manhood? When he opened the door and saw the teenager lying naked and aroused on a platform piled with cushions, he understood. He knew – or thought he knew – what was in store for him. He remembered the pain of the male slaves’ penetration from his years as a boy in the men’s quarters. They’d taken him often, sometimes two or three or even four of them the same night, until he was old enough to stand up to them. Now a mere child wanted to use him, and he dare not refuse.

“Did you choose the dagger I cut myself on?” Keriter asked.

“No, that would have been inauspicious.”

“Put it on that table and come sit beside me.”

“Don’t you wish to see it?”

“Later. See? – the wound has closed. Your saliva must have curative properties. Come suck on it again so it heals completely.”

He took the finger in his mouth. The boy’s skin was flushed and hot. He ran his hand down the slave’s ribs and over his thigh. “How cool you are! Lick me all over; lick away my fever! There! There!”

He pushed his head lower and lower, forcing it to his crotch. Just the touch of the tip of his tongue and his seed squirted out onto his belly. “Lick me clean,” he said, and the man obeyed. “Now kiss me.”

“May I go back to my quarters now? But perhaps you want me to show you the dagger first.”

“No. You’ve given me great pleasure, and I have a gift for you.”

Golden Eyes rested with his knees on the cushions, his feet splayed to the side. His penis had remained flaccid; he’d felt no pleasure servicing the young master. Now it hardened at the sensation of being taken in a warm, moist mouth, and a chill ran up his spine when the soft tongue slipped underneath his foreskin and swirled around his glans. Keriter lowered his head on the shaft till his whole member lodged in his throat. He held it there, sucking voraciously, then came off it and licked and caressed all over his groin. He ran his tongue along the inside of his thighs, bathed his testicles, tried reaching for his anus with the tip.

The man thought, “Now he’s going to take me.”

No. The young master spit on his hand, rubbed the saliva between his buttocks, and lowered himself onto the pulsing erection, wide-eyed and gritting his teeth, till he was pressed against his pelvis. He sat still for a second, sighed, then began rotating his hips. Golden Eyes felt the tight ring that gripped him loosen slightly as Keriter rocked back and forth on him, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Finally he fell backwards on the cushions, his legs over his head, pulling the man who was still inside him off his knees and on top of him. “Pound me, pound me hard!” he whispered, digging his nails into his back. And the slave obeyed.

He felt the buzz of Keriter’s prostate on the head of his member and the ring tighten around him when the young master came for the second time, and he felt his own ejaculate shoot deep into the bowels of the teenager writhing beneath him. He withdrew, licked the ropes of sperm off the boy’s abdomen, and fell back exhausted. He’d have preferred a woman, but the intensity of his first ejaculation into another human body surpassed his wildest dreams.

Keriter got up and poured them each a cup of wine. “Now I’ll examine the dagger,” he said.

The Caretaker of Metal Objects was taking him for the third time when Peshok came into the room unannounced. “You’ll have to send him back before morning or people will talk,” he began. Then his eyes took in what they were engaged in. “Don’t tell me you’ve played the woman’s role all night!” he said angrily. “I won’t allow it!” And he made the slave get on his hands and knees and watched his son mount him from behind. It hurt less than Golden Eyes remembered, and the pressure of Keriter’s penis passing over his prostate afforded him no small degree of pleasure.

“Now back he goes,” Peshok said. “You’ll be able to find your way alone?”

The slave nodded.

“If you call for him again, send him back earlier,” he told his son.

“I will. Often.”

“Don’t neglect to stick it to him too. I’ll be listening, and I’ll know. Disobey me, and I’ll know how to put a stop to it.”

The Caretaker of Metal Objects understood the threat. He’d be sold, and maybe end his days in the mines.

The Master hadn’t finished with them. “And you,” he went on, looking sternly at the slave, “not a word about what you two do in this room.”

“They’ll know without my telling them.”

“But not the details. Let them think my son’s made you his whore. Pretend your ass hurts when you walk.”

3. An Arrangement

The escort came for him the next night and the night after that. Both times the Priestess of Scents accompanied them, then returned with the escort after she’d anointed the beautiful man whom the other slaves had begun to call Keriter’s cocksucker. “It is the young master, isn’t it?” she asked.

The escort turned and hissed at her. “Keep your voice down!”

“Doesn’t it humiliate you, Golden Eyes?” she continued in a whisper. “A boy barely out of puberty, who doesn’t even have a beard to shave!”

“What choice do I have?”

“He hasn’t even given you a present. What do you have to show for your submission? He won’t tire of you, you know. He’ll be master someday, and you’re in it for the long haul. And what will get out of it? Sniggers and lewd glances.”

“I’ll have my reward. I mean to ask to sleep with you in the coupling room.”

“He’ll refuse.”

“He will, but his father won’t. Trust me in this. You’ll see.”

On the third morning Chagga called Peshok to her room. “I see your son’s moaning has kept you up half the night too,” she said. “Yes, your son’s moaning, not the slave’s. Don’t pretend you’re surprised. We both have ears. Well, I won’t put up with it. I’m an old woman, and sleep doesn’t come easily to me.”

“Do you want me to get rid of him?”

“Get rid of whom? Your Caretaker of Metal Objects? Do you think you can replace him? Your son’s the problem, not him, and it’s a problem you can do nothing about. Reward the slave generously and he’ll keep his mouth shut. That son of yours, on the other hand, will give it away with his moaning and mooning if you don’t do something to muzzle him. He is what he is. It runs in your blood. Your uncle was the same. Why do you think he never married?”

“Uncle was the youngest of four sons. He didn’t have to provide heirs.”

“So you admit we may have a problem. But why shouldn’t Keriter provide heirs? There’s pleasure in that too, wherever his preferences lie. He’s suddenly become headstrong, and it isn’t just a phase he’s going though. Believe me, nephew, thwart him in this and he’ll have every well-hung slave in the compound coming to his chamber before you know it. Worse yet, as soon as he’s of age he’ll go out wandering the streets to find men to pleasure him, and by trying to hide it from you he’ll let the whole city know. Better that while he’s still impressionable he should fall hopelessly in love with someone with the assets and talent to satisfy him for life, or once he becomes master the whole estate will crumble around his ears.”

“Give himself to strangers in back alleys? Men who like women don’t do such things!”

“Ha! Why do our male and female slaves sleep in separate quarters? Why can’t our children leave the compound unescorted? Besides, he’d be open about it if he wanted women. Would you stand in his way?”

“Did I stand in his way when he asked for the Caretaker of Metal Objects?”

“No, you stood by and watched. The room is just two doors down from mine, so I know exactly what went on. I have ears, you know.”

“There’s no shame in his fancying men. But to play the woman’s role with a slave…”

“Whose shame? Not Keriter’s, that’s obvious. Get over your shame and think of practical matters, as you should as master of this household. A slave who sticks his cock up your son’s ass is still a slave, but his authority is diminished when a free man who’ll later be his dependent fucks him.”

“Do you think it’ll stop with this slave, or is this just the beginning?”

“It’s the beginning, but it need go no further. This slave can keep him happy forever. He wouldn’t have called for him three nights running if it weren’t so. Your ears are as good as mine. A child would understand the noises he makes. I just don’t want to have to listen to them again.”

“What should I do?”

“Have them send the attendants away after they’ve bathed and take their pleasure beside the pool on the relaxation couches. Or dispense with the attendants altogether and let them bathe each other. Your son will be delighted.”

“And what’s to prevent him from carrying on till morning?”

“I’ll send my maid to put an end to their frolics at midnight. Be there this evening to let them know the rules.”

“Will he ask for him tonight too?”

“Need you ask? And bolt the door behind you when you go. Whoever fancies a late night soak will just be out of luck. Don’t forget – impose silence on the slave and let him have any reward he desires before he tires of your son’s unwelcome affection.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. I know what he’ll ask for. It’s women he wants, not your effeminate son. Let him take whomever he wants to the coupling room as often as he likes. Let him take several at a time if he asks for it!”

“Won’t people figure out it’s he who plays the man with Keriter?”

“No, they’ll think he drives a hard bargain and look on him as a model of virility. If anyone catches on you can blame Keriter’s behavior. Come to think of it, you’d better find him a wife.”

“But—”

“I’m telling you, hurry him through what’s left of his rites of passage and marry him off as quickly as possible. I know he’s young, but if you wait much longer he may not be able to get it up for a woman. What does it matter how he takes his pleasure so long as he provides sons?”

*****

Golden Eyes and the Priestess of Scents found Keriter and his father waiting for them at the baths that evening. “Leave your perfumes here and return to your quarters,” Peshok said. “Your services will no longer be required either,” he told the attendants.

He waited till they were alone and said, “The Matriarch has complained to me that your carrying on keeps her awake. From now on you take your pleasures here. Chagga’s maid will come for the slave when it’s time to end them. I could have put a stop to it altogether, Keriter, and I will unless you’re discreet.” He turned to the Caretaker of Metal Objects. “You’ll be paid handsomely for indulging the young master. Ask for anything you want.”

“To lie in the coupling room with the Priestess of Scents.”

“I’ll send my own servant to tell her to wait for you there at midnight every time my son sends for you.”

“Father, I…”

“Not a word from you! He’s yours as often as you want to do whatever you want. Keep him happy and he’ll keep you happy.”

That night Keriter’s cocksucker made him very happy.

The Priestess of Scents was waiting for him in the coupling room at midnight.

“Does he hurt you very much?” she asked, genuinely concerned. “I made you a soothing balm of aromatic herbs.”

“Thank you, but the young master is very careful, very gentle with me. Even if he ripped me in two I’d consider it a small price to pay to lie with you.”

The Caretaker of Metal Objects maintained impeccable discretion. A long time would pass before the Priestess of Scents learned that her lover regularly penetrated the young master as vigorously as he possessed her, and the sex-starved slaves thought that the privilege of coupling the lovely Priestess of Scents was well worth giving oneself up to Keriter’s lust.

It could not be kept secret from the family, however. The hasty arrangements for Keriter’s entry into manhood and premature marriage clued them in to who was in the baths from nine till midnight and why they were off limits to everyone else. His cousins Kiprimel and Molza went to see the slave of whom he was enamored and also succumbed to the spell of his beauty.

One night a week or so after they’d first lain together, the Priestess of Scents saw an escort come and whisper in her lover’s ear when he sat across from her at dinner. He nodded to her, meaning that they’d be together again that night. The escort, however, came up to her and said, “We won’t be needing your perfumes this time, and tonight you sleep with the women.”

“Why?” she asked. “Hasn’t the young master sent for him?”

“No, tonight he goes to his cousins, Kiprimel and Molza.”

“Does the Caretaker of Metal Objects know this?”

“I only told him to come with me as soon as he finishes his meal.”

When she saw Golden Eyes and his escort about to leave, she hurried up to them and blurted out what she had learned.

“Does the young master know?” Golden Eyes asked the escort.

“Maybe, I’m not sure. They sent me to get you before he saw me. I believe they had a note sent to him saying you were indisposed.”

“Go tell him that his cousins mean to have me tonight and I’ll give you the golden earring I made this morning.”

Keriter was livid with rage. His cousins invited him to join them with their manservant and his cocksucker, but he would have none of it. “How dare they override me, the future Master!” he stormed. “Have they forgotten that I’m a man now!”

The uproar reached Peshok’s ears, and he was quick to to intervene. When he met with resistance on all sides, he dragged all three before Chagga.

“The Caretaker of Metal Objects belongs to Keriter at night,” she said. “You have no right to take anything from him who will one day be master here. Say one word of protest, do one thing to create a scandal, and you two will sleep in rooms across the compound from each other and I’ll take away your man toy and choose serving girls to wait on you.” She turned to Keriter. “As for you, the next time something like this happens complain to me directly. Don’t try dealing with it yourself. As punishment, no one gets to play tonight. You, Keriter, will sleep here in your father’s house, your cousins will bring their mats and place them in opposite corners of the terrace, and their man servant goes back to the slave quarters.”

“He’s mine,” Keriter fumed, “all mine, all of him! I won’t have these two running off to the slave quarters to stare at his penis!”

“Do you expect us to assign them each a full-time escort?” Chagga snorted.

“I want the Caretaker of Metal Objects to wear a loincloth from now on.”

Peshok was flabbergasted. “Like a priest?”

“Why not? Didn’t he cast the candlesticks we use at the Festival of the New Moon? Didn’t we use his dagger when I became a man?”

The Master looked at his great-aunt. She shrugged and said, “Let him cover his genitals. It will only confirm what people already know. From now on he’ll only expose that cock you’re so taken with when he’s alone with you and in the coupling room.”

“And when he sleeps?” Keriter insisted. Nobody wore clothing to bed.

“I suppose you mean he should also have a private cubicle. Are there any free cubicles in the men’s sleeping room, Peshok?”

“Three.”

“Henceforth one of them is reserved for the Priest-Caretaker, not that he’ll use it much. No doubt he’ll spend most of his nights in the coupling room. I’ll have my maid deliver a loincloth for him at once. And you, Keriter, learn to behave like a man if you want to be treated like one. No more tantrums.” She gave a wicked smile and added, “When she brings the loincloth, she’ll tell the overseers that the Caretaker of Metal Objects and the Priestess of Scents may lie together again tonight. He’s the only one who’s behaved properly in this business.”

The Priestess of Scents showed Golden Eyes how to tie his loincloth when they separated in the morning.

“How can you stand walking about with this thing knotted between your legs?” he asked.

“You’ll get used to it.”

“People will stare at me.”

“They’ll get used to it too.”

4. Preparations

Peshok had hoped to find a bride for his son in a compound contiguous to his or in a family that owned neighboring fields and thus enlarge his holdings, but his desire to marry off so young a boy aroused the suspicions of the free men in the city. In the end he had to settle for a woman, not a girl, from a city on the other side of the mountain with only livestock, linens and clay vessels for her dowry.

They welcomed Ulochli to the compound at the Midsummer Festival. Her parents were too old to make the trip, so she came escorted by her brothers, who were given lodgings on the ground floor of a house just beyond the front courtyard. The upper story had been set aside for the newlywed couple. Her brothers would stay for three days and leave the morning after the ritual purification of the new dwelling. It was not fit for them to see her face from when she formally became part of another family until the birth of her first child.

The gatekeepers had stood on the walls since sunrise to watch for the bridal party and announce their arrival. As a display of wealth, Peshok sent all the slaves to line up three deep along the wall outside the entrance as soon as they spotted them, on the left a double line of women with baskets of fruit, the men on the right with loaves of bread and the animals to be slaughtered for the evening’s banquet, and in front of them a line of children holding bouquets of flowers.

The front courtyard looked more beautiful than it had on the day it was built. The fountain mosaic had been polished with beeswax and the chipped tiles replaced, the water perfumed, the flower beds replanted in auspicious colors and patterns, the arcade festooned with lanterns and strings of dried berries, and its columns garlanded. The welcoming party lined up in front of the fountain to receive their guests. Chagga sat on an ottoman in the center, in her lap the bracelets, brooches, rings and necklaces she’d chosen for Keriter’s bride. This was a signal honor. For years she had only left her terrace to go to the baths. Peshok and Keriter stood on either side of her, the latter in the full armor the Caretaker of Metal Objects had forged for the occasion.

This was the formal presentation of the engaged couple, their last chance to agree to or decline the match. When they next saw each other they would become husband and wife. Acceptance for Keriter was an empty formality. Had they married him to a dragon he would not have dared refuse. He paid her no attention beyond noticing that she looked older than his married sister, who’d come to the wedding with her husband and three children. He also noticed her mannish figure. She had the flat chest and narrow hips of a boy. That and her sandy blond hair, the same color as his cocksucker’s, gave him some hope he might succeed in bedding her.

Ulochli couldn’t see much of her future husband. The heavy helmet encased his head, the breastplate hid his upper body, and a large shield rested against his legs. Her parents had said her husband-to-be was young, but she hadn’t imagined someone so small of stature. Had he yet reached manhood? What did he think of her? She had not seen him nod approval, nor, for that matter, had anyone seemed to ask. Her parents had consulted her before agreeing to the match. Was he even looking at her through those narrow eye slits?

Intimidated by the wealth and power of her new family, she did her best to hide her consternation. She knelt to accept the jewelry Chagga gave her, and her future sisters-in-law put it on her.

The Matriarch then examined the dowry. She set aside the finest linens and vessels for the family’s use, and sent the rest around to the back gate with the livestock. Then she took Ulochli to her quarters to instruct her in the customs of the household. Her brothers were led to the baths, where female attendants would wash and massage them, and, if requested, lie with them on their sleeping mats for the rest of the afternoon.

Since Keriter and his bride had to be kept apart until it was time to consummate the marriage, the women’s banquet was held on Chagga’s terrace while the men feasted in the front courtyard, which kept the slaves busy running between the kitchen and two dining areas. Ulochli’s brothers also wondered about the groom’s extreme youth, but didn’t raise the issue. At twenty-four their sister was practically an old maid and her dowry far from lavish.

*****

Ulochli remained cloistered in the room next to Chagga’s for the three days between the engagement feast and the purification of the bridal chamber. Peshok’s unmarried daughters moved into the other rooms on the terrace while she stayed there, and he and his younger son took over the ground floor rooms they had vacated. No one knew where they’d hidden Keriter, but it was clear who had charge of him, for the Caretaker of Metal Objects seemed to have vanished from the compound.

A week before the bride arrived, Chagga had sent for the Priestess of Scents to instruct her what colors to use in the garlands and the patterns for the flower beds. She asked her with a show of off-hand concern, “Are you happy, child? Does the Caretaker of Metal Objects please you in the coupling room? We never asked about your wishes when we gave you to him.”

“Very happy, Matriarch. He’s attentive to me and virile.”

“I’m glad to hear it. It doesn’t bother you that he comes to you filled with the young master’s seed?”

“No, Matriarch, he’s no less a man. What choice does he have but to submit to the young master’s wishes?”

“But surely you think of it?”

“As Priestess of Scents I smell the young master’s odor on his skin, and his kisses taste of his semen, but better he should come to me like that than not to smell or taste him or feel him inside me.”

“Tell him when you see him in the coupling room tonight to gather up the finest gold chains and pendants and bracelets he has. Tomorrow I shall send for him. I must choose ornaments to present to the bride-to-be.”

“Yes, Matriarch.”

“And ask him to bathe. I, too, have a keen sense of smell, and it would offend my nostrils if he arrived impregnated with the odor of my great-nephew.”

Golden Eyes brought the jewelry the next morning. The old woman went through them carefully before she made her selection, and took a comb for herself in the process.

“May I go now, Matriarch?”

“Yes… No. I questioned the Priestess of Scents yesterday. You’ve kept your part of the bargain and haven’t been spreading gossip about my great-nephew. I want to thank you.”

“It is I who am grateful, Matriarch.”

“The young master will soon take a bride. Will he be able to fulfill his marital duties?”

“I don’t know, Matriarch.”

“Let’s see what we’re up against. Remove your loincloth and let me see that penis the young master feels so possessive about. You’re blushing! How soon we learn to be bashful! How many months has it been since you first hid it from the world?”

“Almost five. But when I went naked people looked at all of me. You’re asking to see only one part.”

“A part of which I’ve seen many. Take it off.”

He untied his loincloth and stood before her in his full glory. To hide his embarrassment he said, “You see I look nothing like his future bride.”

“No, she won’t be sticking anything between his thighs. Come closer.”

She reached out for his member and felt its weight. He grew hard in her hand, and a drop of precum pearled at the tip. She touched her tongue to it.

“Sweet – just as I remember it. How I envy the Priestess of Scents! It’s been years since I felt a man inside me, and when my husband was still living I felt it less often than she. If I were younger… But now I’m dry inside and would only feel pain. I have one request for you.”

“A request, Matriarch? A command, you mean.”

“No, a request. Teach the young master how to pleasure a woman. Tell him about how you feel when you lie with your priestess, describe how we’re made, show him where to place his kisses, where his hands should go and what to do with them. You’ll have three days alone with him. I won’t hold you at fault if you don’t succeed.”

“Show him? Shall I draw pictures? What do I have he can practice on?”

“My maid will be bringing you your meals. If necessary, use her as a model.”

*****

Keriter did not show himself an apt pupil. When Chagga’s maid lay on her back and opened her legs to show him, he called her vagina a wound, and he shuddered when Golden Eyes parted her vulva to show him its parts, no less intricate than a man’s. Forced to touch his tongue to her clitoris, he pulled back in disgust, complaining of the smell. “I can’t! I won’t!”

“You will. Your bride will come to you perfumed.”

“And what will I have to stick inside her?” He pointed to his organ, which had shriveled between his legs.

“More than she has to thrust in you.”

“Alas!”

“Come feel how soft her skin is.”

“Too soft, too pulpy.”

“Suck on her breasts. Surely you can do that? You did as an infant. All women have sensitive breasts.”

“Show me.”

“That doesn’t require showing. You just want to put off doing it yourself. Suck his penis, Matriarch’s maidservant. Show him that a woman can make him hard.”

The young master’s organ responded to her ministrations, but he whined, “You do it better!”

“That’s because I have one myself. Tell her what to do, let her know what feels good.”

“I can’t. It’s too embarrassing.”

“If you’re open with your wife and tell her what you like, she’ll tell you what gives her pleasure and talk you through it. Don’t you understand? If you care anything for me you must consummate this marriage.”

“Will they punish you if I fail?”

“I don’t know. But surely they won’t let you send for me until you have.”

“Tell me again how you make love to the Priestess of Scents. That made me hot.”

Golden Eyes nodded to Chagga’s maid, who stood up and left them alone to report back to her mistress. She hurried up to the terrace and saw the Matriarch and Peshok standing by the outside wall engaged in conversation. He glanced up and asked, “You’ve seen my son? How’s he doing?”

She stammered, not knowing what she should and shouldn’t tell.

“He means his health,” Chagga said. “I haven’t told him my plans.”

“The young master is well.”

“And impatient to become a husband and head of household?”

“You know the answer to that,” said Chagga. “Stop grilling the girl.”

“You said she would report back to you.”

“Yes, to me. You won’t know how to interpret what she has to say. If you have questions, ask them of me.”

“You’ve avoided all of them.”

“I have not. I just haven’t told you what you want to hear.”

“What I want to know.”

“What you want to hear. Leave us, and if there’s anything to tell, I’ll tell you. Is Ulochli to remain locked in her room all day? Have the priests bring what’s needed for the purification. I promise you this marriage will take place.”

Peshok had sent his younger son to tell the Matriarch he needed to speak with her. The boy was under ten, and therefore allowed to see the bride.

“Make it short,” she had said when Peshok appeared on the terrace. “I have more than enough to do, and I’m old and tired.”

“The purification of the bridal chamber is set for sunset tomorrow. Shall I order the priests to make everything ready? Will there be a wedding? Or has Keriter run off with the Caretaker of Metal Objects?”

“He hasn’t run off. I know where he is. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is his cocksucker with him? Or has the slave fled because he foresees a disastrous marriage and fears punishment?”

“If the marriage fails he won’t be to blame. But I know where he is – somewhere where only I can summon him. Doesn’t that seem like a sensible precaution?”

“You have the task of preparing Ulochli. Shouldn’t I be preparing my son?”

“I’m seeing to that as well.”

“From a distance.”

“I’ve learned to work very well from a distance.”

“And?”

“And nothing. My maid is with him now. I’m waiting for her to report back to me.”

“And the bride, is she eager or anxious?”

“Anxious. She asks a lot of questions.”

“Anxious about being deflowered?”

“Eager to be deflowered; anxious she won’t be. She thought Keriter looked lost in his new armor. She asked if he were big enough to penetrate her.”

“And you said?”

“That she ought to have seen enough slaves in her young life to know the size of a man’s penis isn’t proportional to his height and that the young master has given ample evidence that he has seed to spill. Peshok, it was a mistake to settle on her. She’s a willful woman. A frightened young snip of a girl would be easier to manage.”

“You think there’ll be trouble?”

“That depends on Keriter. I’ve concentrated on drumming into her head that she’s part of the family now and our interests are her interests. She understands she can’t stand up to the family alone. By the time she discovers the weaknesses that divide us, she’ll be caught. She won’t be able to enlist allies, but she could bring us down, and her with us. Let’s hope she has more sense than that.”

It was then that Chagga’s maid returned after being examined by the young master.

5. The Wedding

When Chagga’s maid came to remove their plates after lunch the next day, she told Golden Eyes that it was time to bring the silver knife for the purification rites to the bridal chamber. He tied on his loincloth and accompanied her out the door. “I think I’d better lock him in,” he said.

“He can’t get away, not unless he throws himself from the walls and breaks his leg. There are guards posted everywhere.”

“No, but he could hide somewhere, and it would take a week to find him. Does the Matriarch need you right away? Could you stay with him till I get back?”

“Yes. She says my most important job is helping you.”

“Then see if you can’t get him hard on your own. Maybe if you stuck a finger up his rear. Two would be better. No, make it three. You have tiny hands.”

At sunset every blood relation of the bride and groom residing in the compound, even the Matriarch, gathered in the bridal chamber to watch Peshok perform the purification ritual. The Priest of Flames had lit the tapers, the Priestess of Scents had strewn the floor with flower petals, the Priest of Loaves had brought the honey cakes the couple would cut into portions they’d send to leading members of the family, and on a low table the Priest of Fruits had placed a basket of ripe figs and another of pomegranates on either side of the silver knife the Caretaker of Metal Objects had left to cut them open.

Left alone with the girl given to her for a maidservant, Ulochli pressed her for information. The old woman had told her much, she said, but her words were often ambiguous. The girl’s embarrassment increased her anxiety. Ulochli realized she was frightened, probably of the Matriarch. She would have to tread carefully.

“What’s my husband like? Is he mild or severe? Is he handsome?”

“I don’t know, Mistress. I can’t remember if I’ve seen him. I’ve always lived in the slaves’ quarters. I didn’t leave there till they summoned me to serve you.”

“Has he never had business in the workshops? Didn’t he go to the armorer’s for a fitting?”

“He must have, but how was I to know who he was?”

“But you’ve heard things. Slaves always talk about their masters.”

“About the Master, yes, and about the Matriarch, and slaves who work in the front of the compound tell about the masters they serve.”

“And has his manservant said nothing? He must have a manservant, surely?”

“My cousin has been appointed to serve him after the wedding. He must be with him now, but I can’t see him to ask.”

“Has he no favorites? Masters always have favorite slaves they call on when they have some business to attend to.”

“There’s the Caretaker of Metal Objects, the man we call Beds the Priestess of Scents.”

That Keriter’s favorite had a regular concubine was reassuring; that he favored the Caretaker of Metal Objects was unusual. Perhaps he liked weapons or fancied jewelry.

“The Caretaker of Metal Objects? But isn’t he always in his workroom or at the storeroom where they’re kept? I don’t imagine he often ventures into the family area. Keriter must go to his shop, so you must have seen him after all.”

“He goes to the young master almost every evening after dinner.”

“Why?”

“We don’t know, Mistress.”

“But you guess. What do people say?”

“Some men call him Keriter’s cocksucker, but I think they’re just jealous because of the Priestess of Scents.”

Ulochli didn’t, but her husband’s demands for sexual attention didn’t disturb her. It was natural for men to lie with men and women with women, and a young man with an insatiable libido could lead to a spate of pregnancies among the female slaves. The family wouldn’t want that. That he chose the Caretaker of Metal Objects, a man who took his pleasure with a woman as well, instead of summoning one male slave after another to his bed meant – she hoped – that his tastes were not limited to men.

“You know this Caretaker of Metal Objects?”

“Yes, Mistress, we all know him. He’s very nice, very friendly.”

“Doesn’t he speak about the young master?”

“Never, Mistress. Neither about him nor the priestess.”

“He sounds like a model slave.”

“Oh, he is. Matriarch favors him as well.”

“What makes you say that? She’s told me about several slaves, but never mentioned him once.”

“He sleeps with his priestess.”

That made sense. She’d realized from the outset that Chagga held the real power in the compound. “What does he look like?”

“Very handsome. Strong arms and legs, manly.”

“And between those strong legs of his? Come now, girls are curious at your age.”

“Not slaves. We all go naked, men’s bodies aren’t a mystery to us. But Golden Eyes…”

“I see he has many names.”

“…Golden Eyes wears a loincloth.”

“He wears a loincloth? Is he a priest?”

“I don’t think so, but I suppose he must be if he wears a loincloth and has his own cubicle.”

Ulochli had never heard of a caretaker of metal objects being given a priest’s privileges. There was more to this than the girl knew or was willing to tell, but she wouldn’t get it out of her that evening. She’d wait a week, then go to his workshop to choose a gift for her husband, and see for herself.

*****

When Chagga returned she was standing at the edge of the terrace gazing out over the vast new city she’d come to and might never get to visit. The old woman went and stood beside her.

“Yes, child, I’m curious about it too. I lived there as a girl, and often accompanied my parents when they went walking. It must have changed since then. I haven’t left these walls since I married Ixtendor.”

“The Master’s father?”

“No, dear, his father’s uncle. I had no male children.”

“Maybe my husband will take me to see it.”

“He might, but I doubt it. Keriter’s never shown much curiosity about the world outside. Of course he’ll have to go out when he becomes master. I’ve been after his father to take him when he has business in the city, but he’s still young.”

“But not too young to marry.”

“Bodies mature more rapidly than minds. Children are ready for marriage well before they have the wisdom to take on the responsibilities of a citizen. You seem worried at having so young a boy for a husband. Yes, a boy. I won’t deny it. Believe me, in the long run it’s to your advantage. He won’t know how to assert himself like an older man. You’ll have more control over your household, more independence, and you’ll be able to mold him into the husband you want.”

“Children can be very demanding.”

“Demanding, yes, but that doesn’t mean they always get what they want. One can use their demands to make them do as you wish.”

“How old is Keriter?”

“Fourteen, a good age – old enough to give you children, young enough to control. But you mustn’t be too obvious about it. He can be headstrong and stubborn, and knows his rights as future master here. Go about it subtly, indirectly, and don’t be selfish in your demands if you want others in the family to support you. Fit in, and someday you’ll wield the power I do.”

“Have you been here very long, Matriarch?”

“More years than I can count. I wasn’t as lucky as you. Ixtendor was a grown man when he married me, and his father died young. He became head of the family when he was just a couple of years older than Keriter. I had status, but no real authority. And then I only produced girls.”

“But now your authority is absolute.”

“Absolute? Far from it. I know how to use my influence and am wise enough not to demand what I can’t get. I watched my husband, and learned from him. He lorded it over everyone, so after he died it was easy to manipulate his brothers and their sons.”

“The Master too?”

“Peshok makes his own decisions, but he listens to my advice. He knows that I read people’s hearts better than he and put the family’s interests before my own. Learn from me, child. Your husband is too young to set an example of how to survive in this world. But see! The kitchen slaves have brought us a light supper. Come eat, then go to bed. You have a busy day tomorrow. You’ll visit the compound and get to look upon your husband’s face. Surely you’re curious to see both.”

*****

Ulochli had not left the terrace since the day she arrived. In the morning the escorts came to lead her on a tour of the compound. Its endless lanes and alleys seemed to cover as large an area as the small town where she’d grown up, and she had to make an effort to get her bearings. First they went to the apartments she and her husband would occupy, where she bade farewell to her brothers. Then they showed her in what houses her future relations lived, where they socialized, an open area for exercise, the bathhouse, the shops and workrooms in the rear of the compound. The Caretaker of Metal Objects was not there. So the young couple wouldn’t accidentally cross paths, Keriter went to the baths while she was visiting the slave quarters.

They brought her back to the bathhouse as soon as he’d left it. Till then her maid had brought a basin of water to the terrace for her daily ablutions. Now she gave her a proper bath, perfumed her, and did her hair. Then they went back to Chagga’s to put on her wedding shift, floral wreath and gold jewelry. A lot of rigmarole, she thought, since as soon as she was dressed she’d turn around and go back to the baths, where she’d meet her husband and take it all off again.

It was time for the ceremony. Chagga came out of her room to look at her in her bridal outfit and said she was very beautiful. Then she kissed her and wished her happiness.

“Aren’t you coming with us, Matriarch?”

“No, child – great-niece, I should say. The Master performs the ceremony. No one else will be there besides you and your husband, his manservant and your maid, the bath attendants, and the Priestess of Scents. And after the ritual a kitchen slave will bring a meal for you to share with your husband before you go to the bridal chamber. Again, I wish you a long and happy life, and may you bear many sons.”

Candles had been lit in the bathhouse and a low table placed by the side of the pool. Peshok stood in the doorway, a goblet of wine in his hands. Ulochli waited a few minutes in an alley around the corner from the baths, for the bride and groom must arrive at the same time. She studied her husband’s face. Very young, but not unhandsome, and his arms were more muscular than they’d looked sticking out of the armor. They each took a sip of wine from the goblet and followed the Master into the bathhouse.

They took their places at opposite sides of the pool. Their servants came and stood beside them, and at a signal from the Master slowly undressed them. She studied her husband’s penis, hiding her curiosity by pretending to cast her eyes down out of modesty. It hung limp between his slender thighs, but when erect would be large enough to fill her. Then they entered the pool, walked to the center, and held hands facing each other. The water was deep. It came nearly up to the bottom of her rib cage, and inch or so higher on Keriter. She longed to drop his hand and grab his penis to find out if it had hardened. Instead she looked into his eyes, and she saw only apprehension.

The Priestess of Scents stepped out of the shadows with a basket of rose petals which she scattered over the couple and on the water around them. Ulochli looked at this woman, the consort of her husband’s cocksucker. They were of about the same age, but the priestess looked beautiful, so young and fresh. She felt jealous of her. Keriter too, she noticed, had turned his gaze on her. Did the Priestess of Scents accompany his cocksucker when he came to his room?

Keriter was studying the woman he would never replace in his lover’s heart. He marveled at how well the slave had described her just from memory. Could he have described his body so accurately and in such minute detail? He thought of the intimate pleasures he’d spoken of with such enthusiasm and remembered how his penis grew stiff when he told how it felt making love to her. It made his own member stir and start to swell. Ulochli sensed his arousal. What caused it? The thought that he would soon possess her, or seeing the Priestess of Scents?

It lasted but a few seconds. “Kiss,” Peshok told them. Keriter kissed her on the lips, barely brushing them, and the Priestess of Scents left the bathhouse.

They were married now. They emerged from the pool and knelt naked by the low table. A kitchen slave came with their ritual meal of fish, eggs, long root vegetables, honey cakes, and cool, lemon-scented water. Peshok cut each item in two and placed each half on a single golden plate, from which they ate the cut foodstuffs, always the other half of the same item. Before going on to the next, they drank from the same cup, passing the water back and forth between them. When only crumbs and fish bones remained on the plate, they stood up, their servants dressed them in linen shifts – not their wedding attire – and they followed Peshok to their new house. He repeated Chagga’s blessing word for word, they entered the bridal chamber, and he closed the door behind them. Their servants sat outside the door, ready to fetch whatever they called for on the night of the deflowering.

(to be continued)

 

 

Wilde Oats is published three times a year, in April, August and December. Click here to be automatically informed of new issues when they are published.

“This slave can keep him happy forever. He wouldn’t have called for him three nights running if it weren’t so. Your ears are as good as mine. A child would understand the noises he makes.”