Angel

This work is a product of the author's imagination, places, events and people are either fictitious or used fictitiously and any resemblance to real events, places, or people, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author retains full copyright to the material, and sincerely hopes you like it! If you have something to say about it that isn't flaming me then email me at: jae.monroe@yahoo.com

Angel

Chapter 2

Brenn sat on his cot, shivering, the chain which bound him to the stay on the wall clinking lightly as he did. He could hear the music playing, the laughter, the shouts, and the sound of carousing in the main part of the house. Master Vellius was having another fete, another gathering of his friends, another round of revelry, celebration and abuse. Mercifully Brenn was spared from such activities, he had been kept away from them after his current owner had decided upon who would be his next, not three weeks from when he had first arrived in the fat man's household.

It had been three weeks of agony for him. Upon his entry to Rome, he had been gifted to Master Vellius by the man's client, the soldier Junius Medo, to cancel a debt between them and to restore their good standing. Vellius, however, did not want him for himself, and he was put on display at every one of his frequent fetes for the guests to look over and make an offer. None had met up to Vellius's expectations of his worth, it might seem, for he had not been sold to any of the lascivious men who had examined, groped and grabbed his every inch while he'd stood naked during their inspections. Then, for some reason, he had stopped being trotted out for perusal and humiliating examination by the guests at Vellius's fetes, only able to guess from this turn of events and from the slaves' idle musings that Master Vellius had found a buyer. So he was left in his quarters, chained to his cot for the night and taken out during the days to be exercised and kept supple and fit as a showpony for this unknown entity that would buy him.

And he was glad for it, for there was nothing worse than what he had seen at Vellius's celebrations, there was no worse abuse of slaves than that which occurred during these violent and wild orgies. He had caused untold mirth when, during his display at the foot of Vellius's throne-like chair, he had witnessed an abuse of a slave so vicious he had rushed to the window and vomited into the garden outside it. He was lucky his sickened response had been such a cause for amusement among the guests otherwise he would likely have been punished for displaying such disgust, but Vellius was pleased at the weak-stomached response and had ruffled Brenn's hair affectionately afterwards.

Fortunately for him, he was spared from exposure to any more such depravity, but there were those who were not so lucky and he could still imagine, if he was no longer forced to witness, what these might be enduring. Rolling over in his cot, he curled up and tried to drown out the sounds of debauchery which filtered into the room in muted tones, reminding him of what was taking place outside it and especially who was suffering at the hands of it.

Suddenly the door was thrust open and the sound of the party spilled in through it, as did the light from the hallway which was well-lit by torches. Brenn's stomach clenched. Gods did they want him to join the fete? Taking several deep breaths, he hastily hardened himself even though his heart beat wildly within his chest: many weeks of having been spared from the horrific festivities had lulled him into a general belief that he would continue to be excluded from them, but he should have known he was never safe.

"Boy, your presence is required in Master's office," the slave informed him as he came forward with a key to unlock the fetter at Brenn's wrist that linked via a thick black chain to a bolt in the wall, keeping him bound to the bed.

Brenn made no response as he sat up in the bed, rubbing his hair.

"Oh, you look terrible," the slave cried, wringing his hands and jumping forward to run his fingers through Brenn's hair. "Why did he have to come now? And no warning. Master is very upset; if you do not look pleasing for Master's patron we will all of us suffer for it." Standing Brenn up, he yanked off his tunic. "But then these important men wait on no one's leisure. Ah well, you will have to do as you are."

He was led, naked, through the hall passages in all haste, the slave continuing to mutter about this man who was too rude to give any forewarning of his visit and about the dire punishments that would rain down on them all because of it. Brenn followed, his heart beating as though it would jump from his chest, having no idea what was to happen or who this man was that he caused even Master Vellius to be flustered at his unexpected arrival.

When the slave reached his master's office, he halted by the door, and Brenn drew up short behind him, feeling his heart lodge itself in his throat. He hated to have any contact at all with Master Vellius who looked at him as he would a tasty morsel that he was forbidden from enjoying, a look of lust mixed with frustrated restraint. Brenn was ever weary that the man would one day decide the former was stronger than the latter and use him in that way which he had now become patently aware was the use of many if not most household slaves.

The slave bowed his head, knocking lightly on the door then slapping Brenn as he waited for it to be opened. "Bow your head and keep your eyes on your feet, stupid barbarian," the slave hissed.

Brenn did as he was bid but felt his ire rise in response to the demeaning instruction. This slave was born to the life of bondage, in Vellius's household, and so he considered himself expressly above Brenn who, as a 'stupid barbarian' and a stupid captured barbarian at that, was the lowest of the low.

"Enter." The order came in Master Vellius's phlegmy voice.

Keeping his head bowed, the slave entered and Brenn followed him, his eyes likewise cast down, but not on his feet, for it did not pay to keep one's eyes averted in the face of the enemy.

"Stupid boy, you have kept the Senator waiting." The slave before Brenn gasped and sucked in his breath as Vellius's switch met his shoulders and ears.

"A thousand apologies, Master," the slave whispered deferentially, his voice sounding pained.

Brenn looked up in curiosity, keeping his eye trained on the sharp, black switch that Master Vellius had used on the slave before him, watching carefully that the man did not intend to use it on him.

"The slave is saucy, Donatianus, think you to give me a hot-headed slave?" the other man in the room asked and Brenn's eyes were drawn to that voice which was deep and confident, a man who knew his place in the world and knew it was above that of Brenn's own master.

The man was wearing a white toga, trimmed with a dark band. His stance was relaxed as he perused Brenn's person, his dark eyes rising to meet Brenn's. Brenn stared back at him, his own expression wary as he took in the handsome man in his forties who was obviously in such a position as to be able to sit in his own master's presence while Vellius stood.

"Not saucy, Senator; I have been attempting to train him to the appropriate behaviour but he is a barbarian and slow with it. But he is an Angle as you did mention you were in want of, and faster than most, I would say, more intelligent than most of his ilk. And attractive, you must agree there." Master Vellius tied himself up in knots trying to expound on Brenn's virtues while also remembering to denigrate Brenn's origins as he rightly should.

"Oh, indeed, he is attractive, I will give you that, but there are many attractive slaves that a man may bestow to appease his patron, tell me why you choose to give me this one who is so untrained," the Senator replied.

"He has been but three months in my household, which is little time to undertake any serious training," Vellius explained, actually sounding pained with his embarrassment. "But I will give you this, he was untouched while he was here, not a man, or woman, has laid hand upon him, neither has he been marked as belonging to my estate, for such fine flesh," here Master Vellius slapped Brenn's firm buttocks proudly, "I knew I must give my esteemed patron."

"Ah, so you think to give me a slave who is not only poorly trained to behaviour in a household, but utterly untrained to behaviour in the bedroom." Master Vellius paled as his patron reduced his offering to a pittance. "Quite a gift you think to bestow, my friend."

Master Vellius sputtered, and then turned to Brenn angrily. "Lower your eyes, filthy barbarian," he barked, slapping Brenn across the back of his head, having to reach up considerably to do so. Brenn's eyes snapped around to fix him with a murderous glare, fuelled with the fury of being so condescendingly spoken about.

"Foolish barbarian." Vellius swatted Brenn across his chest and arm with the switch before he turned back to his patron apologetically. "You are right, Senator, I do not know why I thought this piece of trash could ever appease you; pretty as his outside may be, he is hopelessly uncouth. I will give him to Crassus I think; he will delight in whipping the insolence out of him. Shame though: fine smooth golden skin that he does have, it will not remain so long."

Brenn's heart seized up in his chest, he had heard of this Crassus, the man who had offered the most for Brenn in the three weeks he had been available for sale in his master's house. No, he couldn't be going to that man who delighted in the abuse of his slaves, all his entourage of servants had been marked with stripes and lashes from his ministrations.

"Fine smooth skin he does have indeed," the Senator said ruefully as he thought about where Brenn might be sent. "Hit him again, with the switch," he instructed Vellius who complied, putting considerable strength into it and Brenn sucked in his breath, glaring murder at the Senator who had ordered this abuse of his person so casually.

"Hah!" The Senator sat back in amusement. "Such fire and fury. He is perfect, I shall take him."

Vellius looked at him in astonishment. "But surely you will not hold truck with feisty slaves?" Wondering even as he said the words at why he was trying to talk the man out of accepting his gift.

"No, not I, but he is perfect for my son who unfortunately holds too much truck with feisty slaves," the Senator said calculatingly. "I shall give him this uncouth barbarian, let him become frustrated beyond reason with his surliness, and then we shall see if he continues with such unreasonable lenience and kindness towards those below him."

Claudius's twentieth birthday fete was a two-week affair of which he ended up having little recollection. Though he had intended to prevent it from reaching orgy proportions, from what was recounted to him afterwards, mainly by his aunt by way of reproof, and in some parts by his friends by way of congratulations, it had certainly gone to that level and beyond and far from being its moderator, he had ended up having a large part to play in its escallation. Fortunately, or not, depending on how he looked at it, his intoxication had as usual rendered his memories hazy at best so he had no idea of just what he had done during that fortnight.

"I didn't do anything I shall regret too greatly, did I, Aunt?" he ended up asking his aunt as he lay abed for the second day after the last of the guests had departed from his home, feeling all the illness due to his two-week stupour now that it was over.

"That depends on what you will find regrettable," Aurora told him, sitting back in the chair by the bed and grinning at how laid-up her nephew was. "You did bed the Solacca boy."

Claudius sat up suddenly then promptly flopped back on the pillows. "Oh, do not say it," he moaned, covering his eyes with his forearm. "I thought you said I was too stupefied to be up to anything."

"Well apparently this you were up to, TWICE," his aunt replied, loving that she had finally found something about which her unabashed nephew would blush. "Though 'twas not I who walked in on it, thank the gods, two of your friends had that privilege; I overheard them laughing about it, saying how you must have found a mighty short ten-foot barge-pole."

"Argh! No, Gods, none will let me live this down," Claudius groaned, turning his head from side-to-side with his eyes squeezed shut tight.

"I suppose you do not want to know that you also had relations with another boy, oh what was his name?" Aurora wracked her brains for the name of the black-haired boy.

"Who? Do not keep me in suspense, Aunt, and do not feed me this knowledge in drips, tell me: how many did I end up bedding and who were they?" Claudius demanded.

"I only know of the two, though there could very well have been more, I was not privy to every conversation. I only heard it mentioned that you had bedded the Solacca boy and...the black-haired boy..." she thought aloud.

Claudius gasped. "Do not say it was Corvinus?"

"No!" Aurora burst out laughing. "No I daresay if you did so he'd never survive it, wraith-like creature that he is; no, it was the boy with very short black hair and blue eyes, oh what is his name?!"

Claudius thought for a minute. "With quite swarthy skin? I think you mean...Lucillus." His aunt nodded, recalling the name, and Claudius allowed himself a grin. "Oh that is not so bad, not so bad at all; he is rather pretty actually. Now are you sure there are no more?"

"That I do not know of there may be many, but these are those that I do know of. Perhaps you might ask the slaves," Aurora suggested.

"No, I won't be doing that, thank you." Claudius grinned. "I shall just lie here for the next few days and wait for the love-gifts to amass at my door."

"Or the invoices," Aurora quipped and Claudius made to slap her but she was too far away.

"Actually we should have had hired whores at this fete, I imagine," he noted. Two weeks was a long time for the household slaves to service so many guests.

"I imagine so, but I did try to stay out of the way of all that; it would not have been seemly for me to witness such debauchery," Aurora said sternly.

"But you did anyway?" Claudius asked with a crooked brow.

"Well someone had to keep an eye on the host's house since said host was more often than not lying in a pool of his own vomit," she replied curtly.

"Was I?" Claudius asked incredulously.

"No, I was jesting," she replied, patting his arm. "It likely wasn't just your own vomit, others--"

"Do not say it!" Claudius was aghast.

"Relax, Gods child, I would never let you get into that state, even if it meant having to watch every debauched entertainment in order to keep an eye on you and that's exactly what I did," Aurora told him. "But I tell you, I'll never be able to look at that salon in the same way again."

"Just how debauched did the entertainments get?" Claudius asked worriedly.

"Ah, not so bad, just sex, willing participants, the Nubian Kubra got used a lot, but I think he enjoyed every minute of it, quite prodigiously endowed is that--"

"Gods! Do not go on, Aunt!" Claudius turned to her in amazement. "What would father say if he heard you?"

Aurora grinned. "He would not be impressed," she conceded, "but he might just be a little titillated."

"Enough, Aunt," Claudius instructed, but he had to grin at her matter-of-fact vulgarity. "And you claimed to be looking out for me," his expression turned accusing, "yet you get yourself so distracted watching Kubra wield his massive organ that I end up sleeping with Commodus!"

"I do not know why you lament it so; he is a pretty little thing, if a trifle vain and giggly," Aurora commented.

"Argh, there's history, messy history between us which I'd rather not go into," Claudius said, his lip curling.

"You mean that he's utterly faithless, yes I picked up on that at your fete," Aurora commented casually.

Claudius turned to her. "Well then you see, and that is the nature of our history, which is why I don't want to revisit it."

"I suppose, but you'll not blame ME for your indiscretions," Aurora told him, getting up from the seat she had occupied next to Claudius's bed. "And best you get yourself into some semblance of sober fortitude, nephew, or have you forgotten that your father is visiting on the morrow?"

Claudius flopped back on the bed after she had left, sighing and cursing the fine Aurius wine in which he had so thoroughly overindulged.

The next day saw his overindulgence forgotten, however, as he sat in the salon with his father and aunt, the former of whom had not been to their country-villa for some months.

"Why not make it official?" Claudius asked his father and aunt as they sat over their evening meal.

Gaius looked up from his meal as Claudius grunted from the pinch his aunt delivered surreptitiously.

"Make what official?" Gaius asked, setting his plate aside and turning his dark-brown eyes on his son.

"Nothing," Aurora answered.

"The two of you," Claudius answered to her chagrin.

Gaius coughed and turned to Aurora. "Is that what you want?" he asked curiously.

"You know I do not," Aurora answered, delivering Gaius an impatient look, as though she wished the topic ended.

Claudius looked at them surprised. "You have asked her already?"

"Many times son, but she refused every one," his father answered.

Claudius turned to Aurora questioningly. She looked past him, her blue eyes gone a little distant. "I do not wish to usurp my sister's life, I have her house and her son; I will not take her husband also," she said uncomfortably.

"You OWN me, do you?" Claudius asked with levity, drawing the conversation from the uneasy path it looked to be taking.

"Of course." Aurora shook herself out of her dim thoughts. "Think you it is any other way?"

"Ah, but she will not own me..." Gaius indulged in a sigh, and then he returned his regard to his son. "Though if we are speaking of possessions, I've not yet given you your birthday gift, son."

"It obviously does not fit in the hand then." Claudius washed the last mouthful of his meal down with his wine.

"Ah, no, it most certainly does not," Gaius answered, his eyes twinkling.

After dinner, Claudius followed his father to Gaius's unused study curiously, wondering what his father's present could be that it did not fit in his hand and that he was to receive it in his study, he guessed it could be a chest or some other piece of furniture that his father had had delivered there, or...perhaps it was the study itself since it was the largest in the house and his father was never home to use it? Either gift he would be pleased with, he thought as they entered the study, a slave lighting the lamps to flood the room with muted brightness. The surfaces shone under the torchlight, having been kept spotless of dust as though Gaius used the study daily, when it had in fact not been used for many months.

Claudius turned to his father who gestured that he sit, which he did, on a small low-backed chair before the large desk, then Gaius went to the door and instructed the waiting slave there. Claudius sat forward, it was obviously not the study then...

Momentarily the door opened and one of the house-slaves entered, followed by a cloaked figure. Claudius frowned, his eyes studying the pair. The slave stepped away and drew the cloak from the shoulders of the figure and Claudius sucked in his breath at what was uncovered.

"An angel," he breathed, getting to his feet to walk over and examine the slave. "You remembered..." he told his father, flashing a brilliant smile to the man before turning back to the Angle slave who had been stood before him awaiting inspection.

Claudius examined the fine features of the youth's face, he could not be more than nineteen, though he was taller and broader than Claudius, his arms were obviously used to physical work, they were corded with strong, supple muscles which Claudius touched now, running his fingers over one of the firm biceps, encircling it with both his hands to measure its size, the Angle lad staring straight ahead as he was examined. Claudius then moved to examine the smooth planes of his chest, running his hands over the firm, hard pectoral muscles, parting the slave's tunic to examine his skin which was silken-smooth and tanned a light golden colour, his hand came up over the youth's taut abdomen, over his rib-cage and ran up the muscles of his chest, the fingers brushing over a nipple to which the slave stiffened in response, breathing out harder.

Claudius looked up in mild curiosity, running his hand up over one wide shoulder and taking his face between his hands, his calm dark eyes roaming over every inch of it, taking in the soft golden hair, darker than the hair he had seen on those Angle children which had captured his attention three years ago whom he had thought his father had forgotten, but obviously not. Clever, clever Gaius to bide his time so well then present Claudius with such a delightful surprise. This slave had deep golden locks which fell in waves to the nape of his neck.

His eyes roamed over the smooth straight brow, slightly darker in colour than the hair which topped his head. Below the brow sat sparkling blue eyes the colour of the evening sky, twilight before the night turns it grey; they were so dark blue they were nigh violet in colour and Claudius stood there mesmerised by them for some moments. He drew back, shaking away the strange feeling that had crossed him briefly and then nodded to himself, deciding it was these he definitely liked most about the boy.

The rest of his face was in no way less captivating, however. Broad Germanic cheekbones were set high and gave him the proud look of a noble; perhaps he had been one in Germania, Claudius did not know. To think he might be taking a Germanic princeling to his bed...? Or maybe not, maybe he was just a Germanic village-boy, simple and sweet: either fantasy had its merits, he decided, chuckling inwardly. His eyes devoured the firm lips which betrayed the youth's unease at being so examined, were they lush and full when softened, he wondered? The strong chin had just the hint of a cleft and Claudius ran his fingers over it, then along the jaw, feeling a muscle twitch beneath his fingers.

"You are pleased with the Angle." Gaius interrupted his son's exploration with this statement and Claudius turned to him, bemused.

"Gods, child, wipe that puppy-dog expression from your eyes," Gaius admonished him, and then chuckled to see his son shake himself free of his bemusement.

Claudius turned to the waiting house-slave. "Take him to my chamber and prepare him. I will be there in a bit."

The slave nodded, turning and tugging the Angle youth after him, Claudius turned, deciding it was better not to watch the lad exit the room since his every movement was so enticing.

"You do not need to be polite son, I will understand if you wish to go and be with your gift," Gaius answered.

"Truly father, I am pleased with your gift," Claudius answered.

"I see that," Gaius interjected, his eyes twinkling.

"However it has been more than a month since I did last see you, so I would like the boon of your company more," Claudius finished.

"Indeed." Gaius found that hard to credit, but nonetheless turned to the shelf where he kept his strong spirits got from the traders mainly as gifts. He poured his son a cup as well as one for himself. "You should come with me to the Forum more."

"I find that place a hotbed of all manner of vice, father, so I'd rather you came out here." Claudius's expression revealed his distaste for the Senate.

"Mmm, that comes through in the speeches you write for me from time-to-time." Gaius sipped on the strong liquid then coughed as the Eastern grain-wine burnt his throat. He stared at his cup of clear liquid. "They call this wine?" he asked incredulously.

Claudius examined the liquid in his cup then sniffed it. "Perhaps it needs watering?" he suggested.

"No, the little dark fellow told me you throw back an inch in the bottom of your cup, straight." Gaius's eyes widened as he swirled the potent liquid around in the bottom of his cup.

"Almighty Gods!" Claudius choked, he had just done according to his father's relayed suggestion and his throat burned with it.

Gaius looked at him in surprise then chuckled. "Ah, to be a youth again and to do aught without giving it a thought."

Claudius sat back in his seat, feeling pleasantly warm, the burning feeling gone to be replaced with a calm hot feeling in his belly. He looked up at his father with bright eyes. "You should try it, father, it is hard going down but the aftermath is quite pleasant."

Gaius looked at him curiously then threw down the liquid, sitting back in his seat, his eyes gone misty and his cheeks flushed. "You are right," he said, pouring another tot and one for his son. "Perhaps those Easterners have the right idea, they are not much in battle but they are exceptional inventers of new ways to enjoy oneself."

There was one form of enjoyment which had not escaped Claudius's mind as he stumbled his way back up to his chambers though he wondered if he would be able to do justice to it this night, having consumed several more tots of the fiery Eastern wine with his father before they had parted company. He lurched into his bed-chamber and stumbled over the waiting Judean slave, Phinua who scrambled to his feet.

"A thousand apologies, Master," Phinua cried when he realised that his master had caught him asleep when he was supposed to wait up for him.

"'Tis naught, Phinua, I did not tread on anything vital did I?" Claudius's voice was remarkably unslurred given the way his vision was blurring in the soft light of the torch.

Phinua laughed in relief, he was a-thousand-times blessed to have Claudius as his master. "No, Master."

"Then be a good boy and help me to my bed, I'm bound to impale myself or crack my skull on somewhat if left to myself." Claudius reached for the small boy who put a hand about his master's waist and guided him to the bed.

"Do you want me to join you Master?" Phinua asked slyly.

Claudius reached out, tousling the boy's hair roughly. "You know I've no taste for boys Phinua," he told the little Judean as he had many other times. "And do not sell yourself into someone's bed so hastily, child; enjoy your innocence awhile."

Phinua nodded. "Yes, Master," he said as Claudius fell into the bed heavily and the boy returned to his pallet, disappointed.

Claudius was asleep in minutes, having in that short time completely forgotten about the other occupant in the room, who lay rigid on his pallet, having heard everything since the Roman, his new master, had first crashed into the room.

"Is that the Angle?" the Nubian Kubra asked Phinua gruffly, standing over the small boy and nudging him to wakefulness with his large foot. Phinua rubbed the sleep out of his eyes which blinked then widened to see the tall black man towering over his pallet. He nodded, Master Claudius was still asleep and so they were all very quiet. Kubra went over to the golden-haired lad, nudging him awake with his foot as he had done Phinua.

Brenn woke with a start and stared up at the rather large, and rather handsome, man who smiled down at him, white teeth shining against his smooth ebony skin. "You come with me Angle; I will feed and bathe you."

Phinua listened to this with surprise, the Nubian was to bathe the Angle, he thought to himself, his curiosity piqued, was he dangerous then?

The blonde-haired man nodded then rose, showing his pale-gold expanse of chest and Kubra eyed him with curiosity, lifting a lock of the dark-gold hair atop the man's head and examining it, rubbing it between his fingers and splaying out the shiny strands to note their hue and texture, then he removed his hand with a disinterested sound, turning and gesturing that the young man follow him.

They sat at the table, eating the gruel consigned to the slaves, it was bland but filling fare and likely quite nutritious with the added grains sprinkled on top. Brenn was aware that there were many eyes on him that morning, noting how the eyes of the female slaves passed over him, lingering on him overlong, as did the eyes of a few of the male slaves, though they would generally not engage in congress with him unless it was for the entertainment of the guests. The Nubian opposite him laughed to see the wanton stares.

"They eat you with their eyes, Angle," Kubra commented, spooning the gruel into his mouth and licking his spoon after he had emptied it, a patent message to the blonde man. "Perhaps I will too when I bathe you."

Brenn looked at him in surprise, and then frowned. "Any part of you that touches me you'll not get back," he growled in a surprisingly good Roman tongue.

Kubra threw back his head, filling his barrel chest with laughter, and then looked back to the man. "The Angle speaks most courageously," he commented. "But I wonder if his fists are as brave as his mouth is."

Brenn looked at the man hard, his dark-blue eyes boring into the calm brown ones of the Nubian, but his heart was beating a little faster. The Nubian was incredibly well built; unless Brenn could get in an opportunistic shot, it was very likely that the large man could take what he wanted from him.

Kubra saw the wary look enter the Angle's expression and chuckled. "Do not worry, Angle, I have no more say over what happens to your body than you do; you will only feel the length of my pole is it ordered by our masters."

"How many masters do we have in this household?" Brenn asked, diverting the subject after he felt the relief flood him at the Nubian's easily given promise.

"There is Master Claudius and Mistress Aurora who is the young-master's aunt and lover to his father, Master Gaius, whom you will see but rarely."

Brenn had met 'Master' Gaius and liked him not one bit. Now he was given to the man's son he felt his chest clench at the thought that he had been gifted to his final owner which meant he was now no longer off limits. And what if this master was like his father who had casually ordered he be switched for his own delectation and then, after the deal was transacted, had quite easily treated him as muck beneath his notice?

"But then," Kubra continued, oblivious to Brenn's internal anguish, "in Rome, all Romans are master to we slaves, so does the house fill once more with young Romans, as it did only a few days ago for Master Claudius's birthday fete, you will be answerable to each one of them also." Kubra sat back, smiling to think on that fete, his pole had got much use that fortnight.

Kubra did not get to make good on his promise to devour Brenn with his eyes during his bath until after the evening meal as Claudius had left the villa for the day and did not require his newest slave to be delivered to him until the evening. Kubra decided it was best to wait to bathe him until then, so he would be fresh for his young master. As it was, it was an idle threat he had made to the boy over breakfast, Kubra had seen many a naked body and so the Angle's was nothing new, though he did note and appreciate the sculpted well-developed build of the man's musculature. He was better built than Kubra had first realised, and the Nubian wondered if he would have been able to put up a decent fight was he able to take him. It was a fruitless musing, though, for Kubra had spoken true over breakfast: he would not be taking the Angle of his own accord.

He noticed the man was endowed rather generously, though his member was not the length of the Nubian's sword. His dark eyes traced along the golden-hued skin of the Angle as his hand traced the path with the wash-cloth, noting how the crotch-hairs of the man were the same colour as his eye-brows, darker than his hair, how his seed-sacs were well-sized and perfectly symmetric, how his buttocks were firm and lighter than the rest of his tanned skin, not having seen the same amount of sun as his chest and back. Truly the Angle was very pleasantly put together, Kubra noted, and he found himself hoping rather strongly that Brenn would be used in an entertainment soon.

Brenn noticed that his bathing attendant stared at him overlong and it unnerved him, but since he had been stared at by all the women in the house, he guessed that had he been bathed by one of them their appreciation would be equally as blatant. Rising from the bath when he was directed to, he stood atop a cloth to be dried. He stiffened as the Nubian patted him down with the drying cloth, paying a little too much attention to his staff and to Brenn's horror he felt it begin to stir in response to the other man's rubbing and cupping him through the dampened fabric. He was about to still the man's hand when the drying cloth suddenly left him and the man rose, turning to a cupboard and retrieving a bottle of perfumed oil. This he sprinkled in Brenn's hair and on his body, brushing the former out with a comb so that the waves gleamed in the torchlight.

The Nubian stood back eyeing him in appreciation. "You will please Master Claudius greatly I think," He said and then slid a loose tunic on to the rigid Angle who noted with chagrin that it was designed for removal rather than cover. Damned gratuitous Romans, he thought angrily, and their damned ways of entertaining themselves with the suffering and humiliation of all who have the misfortune to belong to them.

Claudius shuffled through his papers as he lay on his bed in the chamber, he had always found himself bringing his work into his place of rest, though he felt there was something inherently wrong in that. Which was why he was glad of the distraction when it came, looking up when he heard the door open and saw the Angle thrust in. His eyes widened in appreciation to see the man standing tall and sparkling in a loose cream-coloured tunic which opened far down the front to reveal his impressive expanse of toned golden chest and navel. His legs could be seen up to just below mid-thigh and were toned and well-developed as was the rest of him.

Brenn warily regarded the Roman aristocrat who eyed him greedily, his appreciation far more unnerving than that of the Nubian since it conveyed a sense of ownership: the Roman knew that what he admired he could also possess and the thought of that brought the rage rising up in Brenn such that his chest clenched with it and he felt as though it would burst out of him at the slightest provocation. He took deep breaths, trying to school the rage from his expression, not aware that he was doing an appalling job of it.

Claudius put his papers down and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rising from it and stepping toward his newest possession, curious at the way the slave's beautiful blue eyes glittered with fury, turning near-violet as he struggled to control it.

When his new master was but two feet away Brenn could contain himself no longer.

"I will kill you if you touch me." The Angle spoke softly, in a deep and solemn voice, with his brow low over his turbulent eyes and his every muscle tensed and ready to fight.