Revenge under a lucky star

Chapter 3

Are you interested in some fluff? Why are you reading my story then? But if you insist...
He was so beautiful when I first met him that I thought I had looked into the sun. Everything seemed brighter when he was around, and the rest of the world became shades of grey without him. I think it was his smile. Of course his thick, blonde hair, fascinating big brown eyes, narrow nose and subtle lips, his lean, long-limbed statue and natural grace were no hindrance, either. He moved like fluid with uncanny dexterity. He was fifteen at that time and already wise in the ways of pleasure. Unlike me at age thirteen, however, he knew how to behave and sooth his masters instead of provoking them. He had been bought as a pleasure slave, and he deserved that title. Everything about him screamed sex.
I was nineteen at that time. I skipped two years in my tale, but just because I couldn't wait anymore to tell you about him. Also those two years were basically uneventful. I had been sold as a stable boy with some merits in handling difficult horses to Lord Copius Lunatus. I had been assigned the same duties as in the fucking sadists house. After assessing my new masters tastes (discreetly), which tended towards younger and considerably prettier boys than me, I had let my façade slip a little over the years. Arcanus, the overseer in this household, had me figured out after one year due to my unruly mouth that re-emerged in this much easier climate. Did he inform the noble lord? I doubt it, but either way I was left at my post. I was eigtheen, after all, sported the bald look and seemingly had nothing to offer erotically. Even so, Arcanus and I danced around each other in my second year, me cherishing our veiled talks with an actual topic other than horses, him trying to probe into my depths. Sometimes, late at night when the oil lamps had been blown out for hours, we would meet at the kitchen and discuss my past, or his, or even my future, through complicated symbolisms.

And one day there was Cohn.

Believe it or not, he was my first love. I know, I know, in the beginning it was lust. You can imagine what happens to a slave that dares lay hand on the master's fuckboy, and though I was enchanted from the first minute, I was determined to be sensible about my urge.
I lasted five days, or four encounters.
The first time I saw him, the conversation went like that.
"Hello, my name is Cohn, nice to meet you."
"Glb."
On his second day, he looked a little tired. I was in the kitchen at that time, eating my second fast, when he entered and politely asked for new bed sheets. Before anyone else could react, I jumped up and offered to guide him. It earned me three stares, namely from all the others in the kitchen: Cook, Ella, one of the maids, and Arcanus. It also earned me a smile from Cohn.
On the way to the laundry room he said, "Your name is Stygus, right?"
"Right. Sorry for yesterday. Usually I know my name, at least." I smiled at him.
By his curious look I guessed that somebody had already gossiped about me. How, by the gods, could the network function so fast? But he made no comment, and all too soon he had aquired what he had come for. I lingered around and accompanied him to the door where the slaves' wing ended under the pretence that he could get lost. In six years of playing the idiot my conversational skills had rusted considerably, or maybe it was his presence. In any case all I managed was desperate bilge.
"If you want, I can show you the horses sometime." He looked at me, with slight amusement, then nodded shortly, "if I am allowed outside, I'd love to." Then he was gone.
"I can show you the horses. Oh please, please, come out and play with me," I mocked myself on the way to the stables. For once I had tried to be witty and was a real idiot instead. I mucked out fast that day, nothing like a little fuming to power up the batteries.
The third time he had no idea I was there. In the evening I sneaked into the atrium from where I had a good look into the dining room with little risk of being seen. I did this because I just wanted to watch him. Just a glance. Nothing more. Of course not.
He knelt at the noble lord's feet. Master Copius was in discussion with some guests. Since I never serviced the aristocrats in the house, I did not know their names. Frankly, I did not even notice them that evening and I didn't care. I was glued to the spot by his sight. Copius either stroked his hair, or fed him from his hand, or let him suck his fingers. Mesmerized I focused on his talented mouth. Gods, he even chewed graceful. When he tended to our master's fingers, he closed his eyes, as if he was sucking ambrosia. I imagined his expression during an orgasm, and felt myself getting stiffer.
The longer I stood there, in the dark, the more my organs produced the strangest feelings. Arousal was easy. The nagging unease more complicated. Finally, after much analysing, I decided to name this unknown feeling jealousy. I was fucking jealous of my master! I watched with growing anger every touch he had a right to but not me. I saw Cohn lean into him, playing the cute little pet by encouraging him to caress him. That it was pretence I was sure of after our stunted talk in the morning, not to mention that it was Cohn's second day here.
Finally I fled to the stables, where I jerked off behind my favourite horse, Devil (a stallion with a bad temper if you didn't know how to handle him), so it was relatively safe. I fantasised about his mouth on my cock, sucking me instead of our master's fingers. It went fast.
Three days passed where I crept around the kitchen much more frequently than usual without running into him. Cook was amused, Arcanus, I think, a little worried. There was nothing to comment on, though.

The fifth evening. That magical night. The master and his family spent the evening at the theatre. I was busy with the last round, feeding the horses, when I heard his beautiful velvet voice. The flash that went through me from head to toe left me weak in the knees. I had to grab a post to steady myself.
"Hello. I am allowed outside. I thought I could take your offer tonight."
I absolutely forbid myself to screw this. Him. Gods.
"That's great! Come on, let's start with the meanest and most beautiful creature in this dwelling."
"You mean second." I took me a moment to decipher. I gaped at him, before I started to grin. I showed him Devil, after that, and we visited all six horses after all. Then we settled in the hayloft.
"Can I ask you something?" he inquired softly in the half-dark, sitting besides me. Mere inches separated us. Like a massif. I put my head on my knees, facing him.
"You can ask me anything you want."
"Why do you shave your head?" Actually, I had stopped doing that the day I had first seen him. You could see the stubbles now.
With this one, no mistakes.
"It's one way to keep the blowflies away."
"And the other ways?" I could hear his smile.
"Depends. My last owner lost interest in me after I lost my wits. Hence my elated position." I countered. "Can I ask 'you' something?"
"Wouldn't be very fair if not, right?" Did he mock me?
"Why meanest?"
This time it took 'him' several heartbeats to connect the dots.
"I was warned..." he said softly.
"What? How...no, forget that. Who? The master?"
That I had a reputation for cruelty startled me.
"I asked the overseer about you after our meeting the first day. He told me that appearances were often deceiving and I should be wary with you."
Arcanus, somehow I will find a way to kill you.
"So why are you here then?"
"Because I looked into your eyes."
Suddenly his mouth was so near to mine that I inhaled his breath. My heart began to pound, and my cock to dance beneath my tunic.
"When I saw your eyes, I thought I would die. Why nobody sees through you is a riddle worth to lie before the sages. You are so beautiful, even without your hair. You are wise and sad. I think you know exactly what I am, because you were the same."
"I think you are dim-witted. Everything pales around you," I whispered. "Tell me, do you think the sun has a taste?"
"Why don't you find out?"
I leaned into him and licked his voluptuous lower lip. He tasted of orange and cinnamon. Gently I took it into my mouth and sucked. He sighed softly, then pulled away a bit.
"No marks," he whispered urgently.
"I thought you said we were alike." I snorted. "Please, give me a little credit here."
I held his head between my hands as I explored his mouth thoroughly. He sometimes sucked me in, then played the fencing game, or let me roam. A talented mouth indeed.
When I was so hard I thought I would explode, I lay down and exposed my needy organ. He purred "beautiful" before putting all his expertise into pleasing me. It was my first experience from the other perspective, and I have to admit that Cohn's ministrations stirred sensations I had not dreamed possible. He took his time, first teasing me with small laps interspersed with long strokes of his clever tongue on my shaft, then concentrating on my balls, sucking them into his hot mouth while pumping my erection with his hand. I was so near it took all my concentration not to come there and then.
"Suck me, please. Suck me now," I begged between moans I tried to tone down. He complied without comment and took my cock into his mouth, first sucking at the head, then deeper, his tongue twirling around my shaft. I fought the overpowering need to grab into his hair, to push him deeper, or thrust into him for fear of bruises he couldn't explain. He set the pace, and it was wonderful. He managed to swallow my rod almost completely, and when I felt his throat muscles contracting I came. I stuffed my hand into my mouth to prevent me from screaming out the best orgasm I had in my life. I bit so hart I pierced my skin.
He did swallow everything. When my cock slipped out, we locked gazes. He licked his lips like a gourmet. "You taste good."
I snorted. "Come on. You just sucked me up. Once is enough." Then we had to laugh.
I am sure I could not compete with him in terms of technique, and also it had been six years. I tried my best though. What I lacked in routine, I hopefully compensated with enthusiasm. He was even less restrained than me regarding volume, so I covered his mouth with one hand. When he could spare a breath, he tried to suck my fingers in, licking frantically all he could reach of my palm. It felt so hot that I got hard again.
He came into my mouth, and I swallowed it all, the same as him. And he was right; although it tasted a little bitter, it was also sweet, and his. It didn't induce the nausea that had usually followed in years past.
After that, we just relaxed in the hay, touching and kissing, without force or pain. He had to go, of course. His work was likely not done that night.
"I will think of you tonight," he said as he descended. "From now on, I will have to control myself not to cry out your name. Maybe I should call you master, it would be easier..."
"Never say that again!" In my sudden anger I grabbed his wrist. He looked at me in alarm, and I let go as fast as my senses came back to me. "Not even in jest."
He understood and nodded.

That was the beginning of a year filled with such wonder I sometimes asked myself if it was just a dream. We met as often as possible, which unfortunately was about once every week. He was free in the afternoons, when I had to work and we had trouble finding a place. In the evenings, of course, he had to serve Copius. Only the social life of the noble family allowed us stolen hours. In the summer for one glorious week Cohn was left behind when the family went to visit some cousins or such. According to Cohn, that branch of the family was a bit narrow-minded concerning playmates. Almost I was drafted to tend to the horses on the journey, but I feigned sickness and they took Mylos, the other stable boy, with them.
Arcanus knew. How could he not. We never talked about it with anyone, though. We tried to hide our silly, lovesick looks in front of the household, and disciplined our touches to the times when we fucked. But it is impossible to hide happiness all the time.
Do you get the picture? I was madly in love. I worshipped the ground Cohn walked on. But the miracle, in all of this, of course was that he felt the same way about me.
Because of him, I believed in the gods again. My feelings for him were divine.
Enough detail? Let me at least tell you my first time actually penetrating him. I can count the times that happened during this year with both hands. We had to be so careful, and one or two hours between me and our master were too high a risk.
It was the first night after the family had departed for the aforementioned cousins. I was on stable duty and had prepared the loft with blankets, food, wine and oil. Everything two little whores needed for some serious action. He climbed the latter as always, so fast he was out of breath when he fell into my arms, pressing his lips on mine with unfamiliar ferocity.
"I've missed you so much," he panted in my ear between kisses. "Tonight, tonight finally..." He devoured my mouth.
We were so needy I ripped his tunic trying to strip him faster. When I wanted to caress him with my mouth, he urged me impatiently on. "Later, you can coddle me later. I want you inside me now. Fuck me, clean my slutty hole from his filth. Now." He even protested the delay of my preparing him, but I was adamant. He could not afford serious lacerations, and I did not want to hurt him. When I entered him and began to thrust, he urged me on, "faster. Harder. Come on, you can do better. Harder. HARDER." I tried my best to expel his demons. At one point he started to cry. When I spilled into him, in my ecstasy I babbled nonsense. "Shh, everything is alright. I purge you with my seed. You are cleansed of your sins. Don't cry anymore. I love you. I love you."
He laughed then, between tears, and kissed me, and told me he loved me, too.

Gods.

The last day of our relative solitude was the worst of this whole year. No, that's not true, I already told you the worst. But it comes in second. We actually made plans to flee, indulged in our fantasies of a life in freedom, together. Love does that to people. We cried together, made love together, held on to each other and separated just before dawn. He had to keep up appearances with the chambermaids that would prepare the room for the return of our master.

After that week, he began to spin out of control. More and more he obstinately insisted that I should fuck him again. He really had bought that shit about washing away his sins, and since our master fucked him frequently, I should do the same. I really really resisted him for a long time, but when your lover persistently tells you that only you can save him and then stops sucking you in the middle repeatedly - I would like to see your resolve.
And so I did it, not every time, but once, twice.
Third time's the charm.
Master came home before Cohn had the chance to clean himself. More precisely, master was already sitting in Cohn's chambers, waiting for his pleasure slave to sneak in through the atrium door, his satiation easily visible on his face, his cheeks still flushed and his hole still open and leaking.

Of all the masters I had, he had been the kindest and gentlest, at least from my point of view. Like almost all aristocrats he liked to apply a little pain to us slaves to bath in his power, but he never made it an art form, and he did not molest little boys. But a pleasure slave seeking his own entertainment...

Perhaps he had loved him, too.

It is, of course, the right of the master to punish the slave every way he sees fit. So, Cohn admitted to a lover after maybe, oh, say, thirty whiplashes. He told master it was someone he had met before, a freeman. He delivered a name.
After that master fucked him. And fucked him. And fucked him.

I could hear his screams from my cell. If not for Arcanus, I had died that night and maybe condemned the rest of the household to death as well. He locked me in. When the screams stopped, I began to hope. I know now that it is the cruelest of all emotions. They should breed it out of us.
Arcanus. Why did he protect me? Maybe he feared he would be blamed as well. I'm sure he regrets his sentimental streak now. He kept me locked up for three days. Until they brought Cohn down to the cells.
The doctor explained that the rape had caused serious wounds. Infection had settled in, and would spread. The ointments had failed. He prophesied two days and went home. Physicians do not care for the dead.
Arcanus allowed me to spend the time with him. Cohn knew his fate. He tried to be brave for me. He told me he had no regrets.
"I couldn't live like that, anymore," he said. I sat there, and saw the multitude of possibilities our lives could have taken. Master would have eventually tired of him, like he did with the others. We could have been freed, master did release aged slaves every five to ten years. Or we could have fallen out of love eventually (no, no, forget it, impossible). Every option one where Cohn was alive. Of course I did not vocalize my thoughts. We talked about his afterlife. He promised to wait for me. I promised him I would love him and no one else in my life. We told us our story again and again. I kissed his fever-hot lips, and he swallowed my streaming tears.
His last words were: "I wish..."