The Emperor's Pet

The Emperor's Pet

Chapter Two: Unfamiliar

Right then, the moon was barely a sliver of light.

Almost three weeks in and he still hadn’t seen the emperor.  He wondered if the emperor might be any better than Aries.  Isme shrugged, pulling the blanket around him as he waited for the man’s nightly visit.

Every single night.

Once Isme’s body became used to the nightly intrusions, Aries started making him actually fuck himself onto the last rod until his one, unbound hand brought himself to orgasm.  

He wasn’t born a slave.  The only reason he found himself in the palace was because of the emperor’s need to have a uniquely pretty looking slave to display around his company.  Like a cat or some kind of centerpiece.  

Isme’s almond-shaped, pale blue eyes were pretty, no doubt, but against his olive complexion and warm, light brown hair, they seemed even brighter.

The slave-traders had even referred to him as the boy with the “glowing eyes”.

His family and community were not poor.  They weren’t rich, but he had never wanted for anything as a child or even before he was taken.  His grandmother, whom raised him, had been an esteemed professor of medicine after all.  

The servant girls and boys who bathed and dressed him would go on about how lucky he was to have been purchased by the emperor himself.  That he could have anything he wanted if the emperor is pleased by him.  He wasn’t exactly interested.  

Isme didn’t deny that the hot baths and beautiful jewelry that adorned his hair and wrists weren’t nice, but his stomach became ill when he thought about how each of his nights would end.  Pleasure slaves—especially for an royalty—were usually born into slavery, not picked up off the streets of one’s own empire.

The door clicked unlocked.  Isme stiffened, pulling the light blanket tighter around his body, pretending to have fallen asleep with his head against the wall.

“Isme,” Aries called from the doorway.  Each night they played this game, but Isme always lost.

“You are awake,” he said calmly.  “Now.”  It was an order.

Isme glanced over at the man not quite nervously nor defiant.  He was tired.  Each night was tiresome.  

His body still ached.  Although the bench no longer hurt nearly as much as in the beginning, it was humiliating and he was tired of it.  He almost wanted the emperor to just fuck him already.  He was starting to believe that this all might just be some sick joke of Aries—that the emperor no longer wanted Isme and Aries was keeping him for himself.

Not that Aries even seemed to look that interested in him.  Every encounter with Aries made the younger male feel like he was some terrible burden placed on him.

“When will I actually see the emperor?” Isme demanded.  He was getting impatient and not in the mood.

“Get up,” the man replied.  His expression looked equally as impatient.

“Answer me,” Isme said pointedly.  “I’m starting to believe the man I met was only a hallucinogenic side-effect of the drugs.”

The keeper’s expression didn’t change.  He only shifted his weight, his hand still resting on the door.  Isme stared back at him expectantly.

“Ten,” Aries replied cooly.  Isme looked back at him confused for a long moment.

No response.  

“Eleven,” Aries continued after a long pause.  “We can make it twelve lashes if you want.”

“No,” Isme answered quickly, his voice now dry and panicked. Each night he had escaped with only one lash, maybe two, the entire session.  “I-I’m sorry.”  Isme stood up quickly, moving towards the man.

Aries knew how much he hated the whip.

“I’m not playing games with you every night.  You get up when I tell you or you face the consequences.  The emperor—and I—will not stand for some spoiled slave who can’t listen.”

Isme stared at him for a long while, trying to figure out the best approach to his unfamiliar situation.  Slave.

“Don’t get too comfortable.

Isme swallowed hard, now wanting to follow Aries even less than before, but when the man turned to exit the room, Isme followed behind silently.

In the training room, Aries motioned for Isme to stand against the wall after he had undressed.

Isme bit his lip.  

Half-scared and half-defiant, Isme stood with his arms crossed, facing the stone wall as he waited for Aries’ next move.

Isme’s heart was racing and Aries was taking his time.  He wondered what would happen if he refused.  Without the ankle cuffs, Isme could probably outrun Aries, but it was without saying that the keeper could easily overpower him.  He was getting tired of listening to Aries, though.  

He had never been a difficult child, but had listened to his grandmother and elders out of respect, not fear.  Maybe if Aries had actually spoken to him with respect, Isme would be more inclined to feel pleasant towards him, even accounting for the situation. 

“Why are you being punished?” Aries finally asked, his voice steady and low.

Isme wanted to shoot back a resentful, “You know why,” but instead he simply shrugged his shoulders, feigning unconcern.

“You don’t know?” Aries questioned again.  

Isme shrugged again. “Because I didn’t get up quick enough?” his tone was edging on defiant, but remained unwaveringly calm.

“You seem unsure about that answer, maybe more lashes might remind you.”

Isme shot him back a dirty look.  He replied with a more deliberate and slow, “I am being punished because I didn’t get up quick enough when you came for me.”

“Very good,” Aries’ tone was almost mocking.  Isme waited impatiently for him to get it over with.

The first strike landed hard against his upper back, pushing Isme forward until he rested his palms on the wall.  He clenched his teeth waiting for more.

“Count,” Aries ordered.

Isme sighed, but dignifiedly said, “One.”

Isme winced as the second lash struck down on him, refusing to make a sound.  “Two.”

The third and fourth landed hard against the back of his legs.  Isme bit his lip, desperately wanting to pull away from the impending blow.  He took a deep breath and waited.  His composure unbroken.

Isme let out a muffled cry when the fifth one struck him directly over another painful welt.  His legs shook out of either pain or anger, he wasn’t sure. If Aries wanted to punish him over something so absolutely innocuous, Isme pledged his next castigation would be deserved.  

“Five,” he said coldly.  

By the sixth lash, Isme could feel the tears blurring his vision, but he shut them tightly.  He would not cry in front of this man.  

“Seven!” Isme cried out, the whip having wrapped around his thigh with a loud crack.  He stood up on his toes, attempting to distract and somehow alleviate the painful sting.  His breath quickened. 

“Hands on the wall,” Aries said when Isme’s hands instinctively went to rub out the stinging welt.  

The eight and ninth came down on his back like a burning, poisoned vine.  Isme covered his face to keep from sobbing or begging for Aries to stop.

“Fuck!” Isme screamed, dropping to his knees after the tenth to protect himself from the next blow.  

“Get up,” Aries said dispassionately.  “Unless you wanted more.”

“S-sorry,” Isme put his palms against the wall again, readying himself for the final strike.   “Ten,” he added quickly.  Just one more.

Isme screamed as the final lash met his body, pushing himself against the wall with heavy breaths.  “Eleven,” Isme said in almost a whisper.  Done.

Aries set the whip down on the table beside him and Isme turned to look at him, his fingers working over the welts.  Not bleeding, Isme noticed.  No scars.

“Will I need to repeat myself in the future?” Aries asked.

“No,” the younger male replied, traces of defiance erased from him voice.

“No, what?”

Isme turned to the wall again and rolled his eyes just slightly.  “No, Sir,” he said stiffly.  

“Good,” his keeper moved over to the cabinet again and pulled out the oil, motioning for Isme to move to the bench. 

The night carried on as the nights before it, Isme only now with a new sense of distaste for his keeper as he brought himself to climax before him again.