Little Midnight

A/N: Thank you all so very much for your reviews! I\'m all giddy with glee! ^-^ (Actually, I think it\'s the allergy tablet I took. It doesn\'t diminish my gratitude any, but the damn things make me awfully light-headed. *blush*)
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“You really are a baby, aren’t you?” Benji murmured as he carried the boy upstairs and to the bathroom. “You don’t even have the common sense given to a gnat! Cooking when you don’t know how is not only dangerous, but pig-ignorant of you! And trying to cook *naked*?!”

The boy flinched at each word, but did nothing to stop the rebuke. He had been a fool, even if his intentions were good. No self-respecting Dom would have ever accepted someone like him. “I was only…”

“Only setting yourself up for permanent damage! Any number of things could have happened to you in there! And even if the kitchen hadn’t harmed you, Alden and I would have put a major hurt on that little butt of yours! If you thought that leather paddle was bad, you obviously haven’t encountered Alden’s Cabinet!”

“I’m so sorry…” The threat of punishment spooked him plenty, but meeting with such disappointment from the man who’d saved him only hours ago was unbearable. The poor youth lowered his face and bit his lower lip harshly, struggling not to cry again.

Benji could hear the hitched breathing as he leaned over to sit the youth on top of the toilet lid. With a sigh he knelt in front of the boy and stroked his unslapped cheek in a silent comfort. “As much as it hurts to say, little one, Alden does have a point. Slaves are given few, if any, freedoms. Some Masters are more lenient, but some are so cruel they can punish a slave for breathing too loudly or blinking too often. And the law does not recognize slaves as citizens; there will be no protection from a Master like that.”

“I-Is your M-M-Master like that, S-Sir?”

The word ‘Master’ made Benji’s heart flutter, but he harshly turned his thoughts from such folly and grew serious again. “I am no slave, little one. I am subordinate to Alden, but he is not my Master.”

The boy gave a slight nod to show he understood, then turned away again in shame. “I…I wanted so badly…to thank you for saving me…”

“I know, little one. But now I have a task to perform. Wait here as I fill the tub. Do not touch that hand; Alden was right about the risk of infection.” Benji got up from his crouch and padded on bare feet across the smooth marble floor of the great bathroom. This had to be the master bathroom, judging by the expensive décor.

The bathroom itself was a quarter the size of the church’s chapel, its walls adorned with ropes of ivy and gilded statues on the sides of the white tub. The statues made up a gay little band of a stayr, a shepherd boy, and what appeared to be a nymph plucking the strings of her harp. Benji deftly seized the satyr’s horn and twisted it, and from the flute came a stream of warm water to fill the tub. Removing the brass drum from the shepherd boy’s hands showed a compartment for bath salts, which Benji scooped in one hand and drizzled into the water. In seconds the room smelled of English primroses, lulling the boy into a slightly calmer state of mind.

It was difficult to remain absolutely contrite with such wonders surrounding him, the boy thought as he chanced a good look about. Without even realizing it he was leaning forward and gradually rising from his perch, fingers outstretched to touch the nymph and discover what secrets she kept. The statue was only a step or two away, just one more…

No. Not one step. The command had been to remain on the toilet, and on the toilet he’d remain!

The boy, now furious with himself for nearly disobeying a direct order, sat down hard on the unforgiving toilet seat. His bruises ignited with a dull stinging, causing him to yelp and leap to his feet within the blink of an eye. That had hurt! A lot! How much strength had that slave dealer used?! Jeez, it was like getting smacked all over again!

“Shh, easy now.” The boy didn’t even realize he was crying until Benji stroked his cheek, brushing the tear away tenderly. The larger male’s eyes were warm like a summer sky, and his smile was one of comfort, not of condemnation. Every move was gentle, as if he were fragile and liable to break at the slightest fault. The boy hardly realized he was face-down over Benji’s lap until that hand descended to stroke the smooth, discolored mounds.

“S-Sir?” the question was timid, fearful. Everything Benji was trying so hard to avoid.

“Those bastards,” the brunette growled, but softened his tone for the boy. His words were full of pity, now, and deep-seeded hurt that made the boy wonder why it was there. “Why on Earth did you think to become a slave? And now of all the times?”

The boy studied the mosaic floor before answering, steeling his body for the moment the soothing strokes would end in a volley of sharp slaps. “My…my mother, Sir, wanted a child. I was born a citizen, Sir, but at the cost of my mother’s life. When she died, m-my father tried to control me. He had planned out my life t-to the letter without consulting me. I…I rebelled, and made the only choice I have ever made on my own. I…I willingly gave up my freedom, only to keep him from taking it by force.”

“You sold yourself?” Benji whispered, the stroking stilled in surprise.

“I did, Sir. At first…well, I wasn’t sure how. I was scrawny for my age, Sir, but I was quite strong. At least I could be purchased for menial tasks, like cleaning houses or laundry work. As I got older, I thought, I would get stronger, and I would please my Master by performing bigger, more strenuous tasks. But the men I went to…they…they decided I would make for a better man servant, or…”

“Or a bed slave,” Benji finished, his hand idly resting on the boy’s thighs. “How old were you when this happened?”

The boy gulped and winced, preparing for an intense beating. “I…I was nine, Sir.”

“NINE?! NINE YEARS?!” The brunette scrambled to gather the boy up before he hit the floor, regretting his rash ignorance of his own body; his usual reaction to outrage was to jump to his feet, regardless of anything in his lap. The boy struggled at first, ready to fight to save his skin, but something about the way Benji cradled him caused his fist to uncurl and his arms to settle in a circle around Benji’s neck. When the brunette spoke next, his voice was softer, almost choked. “Little one, how old are you?”

“I-I’m nineteen, Sir. At least, I’m almost certain I’m nineteen, Sir. I was taught that the passage of time was obsolete in comparison to obedience to my master. It would be up to my master if I was to survive another day, Sir.”

Benji swallowed a growl and carefully strode to the tub. It was full enough by now, and time was wasting. Gently he settled the boy into the deep tub and twisted the satyr’s horn to staunch the flute’s flow, then removed his boxers and stepped in. The boy looked quite nervous about this, and tried vainly to move to an opposite corner of the tub, but Benji drew him closer and sat him in his lap for a good scrubbing. “Submit to me, little one. Alden expects you to be clean, and you aren’t in any condition to wash yourself. Hold your hand out of the water; the bath salts will irritate the burn.”

A pluck on the nymph’s harp revealed a hidden set of three drawers, one of which contained bars of floral soaps and washcloths. The towel was soft and gentle, scented by the generous amount of peony soap Benji had rubbed into it. The boy melted under the gentle scrubbing, welcoming the warm cloth and suds as they massaged the flour from his face, neck, arms, and torso. As the cloth moved lower, the boy whimpered and hid his face in the curve where Benji’s neck met his shoulder. Benji ignored the boy, however, making it known that there was nothing erotic about this particular bath. This was strictly business; the two of them were in enough trouble already.

With that task complete, Benji reached for the statues again. A tug on the nymph’s bronze hair caused her little mouth to open, sending a squirt of shampoo into Benji’s palm. He gave another tug for good measure, since the boy’s hair was longer than his own and Alden’s, then set to work massaging the liquid into the boy’s locks. This time he permitted a bit of exploration, bringing his face close enough to brush his lips against the tip of the boy’s shapely nose. “Only a little longer, little one. I need to tilt you back to rinse your hair. Do not panic, you will not drown.”

The boy tried to obey, truly he did, but a whimper still escaped him as he felt the water rushing against and into his ears. Benji was as good as his word, thankfully; he scrubbed out the shampoo and then tilted the boy upright straight away, letting him shiver and whimper in his lap. A bit of petting and soothing little purrs sped up his recovery, and in no time he was assisted from the tub and into a big fluffy towel. Benji followed suit, rubbing himself dry and motioning for the boy to do the same.

As loathe as the two were to admit it, they were now ready to face Alden.