Sharpie

"Yes, Domine, my master and mistress are up, and are aware you wish to leave early and may be back late," Rufus said, standing to slave-attention (hands folded in front of him, eyes down) as he spoke. He would open the shutters, allow some daylight into the room, but his training had taught him to focus on one thing at a time, and if you were addressed by a free person, that should require all your attention at that moment. "Gallus is up, and overseeing the packing of provisions for the day. My master says to tell you that if you require anything else, please let him know, Domine."

Message relayed, Rufus moved to open the shutters, allowing daylight into the room, before stepping back to receive any further commands.

@Gil

"Yes, Domine."

It wasn't in Rufus to argue, so he did as he was told, pausing only to twitch the bedclothes straight (someone else would be in later to make the bed if he didn't get an opportunity to do so) and withdrew, glad of the unexpected free time to find a second tunic to drag on over the top of the one he was already wearing, after he had had a proper wash. There seemed, as far as he could ascertain, to be no traces of tearing or blood from last night, just an enduring soreness.

He borrowed Eunice's wooden comb and managed to tame his hair properly, and found a bit of bread and a cup of cheap lora - meals weren't generally hit-and-miss for the slaves of this household, but Rufus had no idea if the master's guest was going to stick with the household routine or not. And if not, whether Rufus would be fed at all before the evening.

He wasn't sure how long it had been before he knocked on the citizen's door again, but he hoped he was neither too late, nor too early.

"Domine?"

@Gil

Teutus

23 | April 50 | Slave | House-slave/Secretary | Bisexual | Wanted | Alex Wyndham

Personality.

Teutus has known almost since he can remember that he is his master's son, yet because he was not taken up in the tollere liberos when presented to his father, he has been condemned to a life of slavery just because his mother was a slave. This has led to some deep-seated resentment, especially now, when he is being groomed to become his father's son after he is freed, by legal adoption. That his father seems to be taking his sweet time over freeing him isn't helping.

He is also aware of the fact that his father sold another slave, called Anteros, when he (Teutus) was about thirteen. He was never informed of the precise reason for this, but has begun to suspect that it was because his father had developed an attachment for him.

To other people, Teutus (his name refers to the time his father spent in Germania) is the perfect slave, obedient, intelligent when required to be, offering opinions respectfully when asked. To the other slaves in the household, he is polite, and businesslike, trying to learn to keep his distance although it is hard and means he doesn't really have anyone he can share things with, which is yet another thing he resents his father for.

He has become quite a serious, slightly withdrawn young man as he has grown older and learned what he has been cheated of - his mother was sold when he was fifteen, at the same time as he was informed that he would begin learning what it meant to be a citizen and that he would be given his freedom and formally adopted as his master's son, which he was. He resents his father for so much, it would be hard to begin listing everything.

He enjoys learning new things, something he has not always had the opportunity to do before, and understands the value of an education, even though a lot of what he is learning has limited value to him right now.

Appearance

With the same dark hair and blue eyes, it would be hard not to notice the familial similarity between Teutus and his master, Tertius Quinctilius Varus, who just happens to be his biological father. Teutus is taller than his father and more willowy, traits from his slave mother. He dresses neatly but unobtrusively, as befits a slave dancing personal attendance on a citizen in public.

Family

Father: Tertius Quinctilius Varus (senator)

Mother: Varinia  (slave)

Step-mother: Antonia Justa (dead 65 AD) (Tertius' wife, Teutus' mistress)

Siblings: Antonia Varia (b. 64 AD, 9 years old) (half-sister)

Spouse: None

Children:

Extended family:

--Uncle: Secundus Quintilicus Varus, 45
--Aunt: Quintilia Varia, 40, Widow

--Cousins: Lucilla Auletia, 18;  Marcus Lucius Auletius, 15

Other:

Hector (21) (Tertius' body-slave, Teutus' fellow slave)

History

Born in April 50 to a senator and his slave, Teutus is verna, a homeborn slave. He does not know when he first learned that his master is his actual father, but a combination of things have led to this situation being somewhat abnormal in Teutus' case: his master was not married at the time, and so, theoretically, Teutus could have been declared a citizen at birth - if only his master (or his master's paterfamilias) had picked him up when he was presented as a newborn member of the household.

His childhood was spent learning all the things that those born in slavery learn young: how to lace and unlace visitors' shoes and wash their feet, how to serve unobtrusively at dinner, how to help around the house with odd jobs that kids can do - the dusting, fetching and carrying small items... As he grew, he also learned how to care for his master, how to help him dress, including helping him with his toga on the occasions he needed to wear it, how to attend him in public.

His master married when Teutus was 12, and a new household meant new duties and responsibilities, and new people to adjust to. He found that he got on well with the others in the house, and when the mistress was found to be pregnant, he merely shrugged. Life would carry on, after all. Teutus didn't really have much to do with the baby, whose care fell to her mother and the female slaves of the household. A year after the master's marriage, he sold his body-slave Anteros, who had been a good friend of Teutus.

Life changed properly for Teutus in 65CE, when Teutus was fifteen, the age at which free-born citizens become adult men. Teutus' mistress died without giving the master an heir, and Teutus was informed properly of his lineage and that he was to be Tertius' heir, although he wouldn't be freed just yet. He was replaced as his master (and father)#s body slave by Hector, a youth just a little younger than Teutus himself, and Teutus began learning all the sort of things that a young man should learn. If the young man were a citizen, rather than the slave Teutus is.

This twilight life, neither slave (yet one in every respect according to law) nor a citizen (despite his father's best efforts in teaching him everything he would have learned had he been declared free as a baby) is all Teutus has known for the last eight years. He has had no firm date given to when he will be freed, beyond, "Soon, soon!" and finds himself half jealous of Hector, with his clearly defined role and boundaries, and half-jealous of the young men of his own age that he sees beginning their cursus honorum, a thing that is denied to him for no reason other than his father's procrastination and prevaricating.

Sharpie | GMT | PM or Discord (#4424)

@Gothic

"Yes, Domine." Rufus left the room, unable to keep from shivering in the cold air of the much larger atrium. He could not help the limp, either, he had been buggered hard the previous night, and the traces of it still clung to his skin, dry and itchy now. And he ached - but that wasn't anything new.

He didn't dare pinch any of the limited hot water to scrub himself down with, but a damp rag and cold water did the job eventually, by which time there was hot water for the guest (nobody had expected him to wake this early). He ran damp fingers through his hair, trying to tidy it somewhat, before retracing his steps though the atrium, a basin of warm clean water in his hands with a rag draped over the rim, and a towel over his arm. The same girl as before carried a jug of watered wine and a clean glass.

"Domine?"

He was uncertain whether he would be required to be a wash-stand and merely hold the basin, or if the citizen wanted him to do the work of cleaning him off.

@Gil

At some point, Rufus' wrist had been released which meant that he had been able to leave the bed, shivering in the cold, just before the sun rose enough to turn the wispy clouds pink. He had dragged on his tunic and had picked up the basin of water, cold now, to remove it and replace it with clean warm water so the citizen could wash in comfort when he woke later, when movement in the bed caught his eye and he saw the citizen blink awake.

He lowered his eyes, unwilling to witness any lingering embarrassment (even though he didn't really think this citizen would be easily embarrassed over the sort of thing he'd done the previous night).

"Good morning, Domine. I hope you slept well?"

Polite enough, he hoped, though his voice was a little rusty - he really needed a beaker of water to wet his mouth.

@Gil

Almost the second the words had left his mouth, Rufus wished he could take them back again for his wrist was suddenly seized. It took a startled, near panicked, moment before he realised it was not the crushing grip he had expected, that he would not bear a bruise there in the morning.

So, he would not be required to clean up - was not expected to leave for his own uncomfortable straw pallet. The hold on his wrist was not released. Rufus merely whispered his apology into the room as the other's breathing deepened and grew regular. The hold on his wrist slackened but he did not pull away, even as the lamp guttered and went out, finally out of oil, leaving only the embers in the brazier to cast any light.

Rufus was still on his stomach, head turned toward where the citizen lay, sound asleep, still holding his wrist. It did not take long at all before Rufus found his eyes growing heavy, despite the ache all over. It had been a long day and tomorrow did not really promise to be much shorter.

He could only hope that he could continue to please this citizen, his temporary owner - the next few days would be far more pleasant if he could.

@Gil

Rufus went with the man, pliant and pliable to his demands, too wrung out to protest - too well-trained to disobey. He folded his arms under his head, muttering quietly into the crook of his elbow, swearwords and invections and prayers to every god he could think of that the other might climax soon, before it got too unbearable with his own post-orgasm sensitivity.

The breathing in his ear was growing harder and harsher, and he pushed up against the other as much as he could bear, helped now by the positioning of his leg beneath him. Eventually, there were several hard, deep thrusts and he felt the citizen spill inside him. Finally, it was done and the other man's weight rested on him, pressing him down as he had twice before this evening as they both caught their breath.

Rufus paused. He should clean up, except there was only the basin and rag from earlier. The kitchen fire would be well and truly damped down now, so there wouldn't be a chance of hot water until the morning.

There was a question he needed an answer to, before he was kicked out of bed to find clean water and then go to his own sleeping-space. "Did I... did I please you, domine?"

@Gil

He was cresting the edge of a wave, a tiny boat caught up in waves of arousal and desire and need, and it was only a few heartbeats after the other finished speaking that Rufus finally came, spilling over his own hand, going taut all over before relaxing, shuddering, his breathing slowly steadying from the sharp aroused panting.

He was still speared from behind, his legs pulled open and a hand not his own stroking at the soft sensitive skin of his inner thigh. It was too much, everything was over-sensitive now, and he muffled a sob even as the citizen took his own pleasure from Rufus' body, whether he would or not (and really, he was all that Rufus could ask for a lover, as far appearances went - and even for someone not a lover, he had been about as thoughtful as anyone Rufus had been lent to).

The motions inside and behind him were slow, teasing, almost too much to bear now, and Rufus felt as taut as a lyre-string, quivering under the continued ministrations - lips and sharp teeth at the skin of is neck, hands roaming over him wherever they pleased, that prick inside him almost painful now that he had spent himself.

@Gil

It couldn't last much longer, not at the rate he was being fucked. And then, inexplicably (not that he was in any sort of position to demand an explanation!) things slowed, and he was pushed abruptly back down to the bed, with the other man lying on top of him just as they had earlier. Rufus was quivering with arousal and frustration and couldn't help groaning into the bedclothes he was pinned to. He was breathing hard, echoing the puffs of breath on his neck and ear, and then there was a hand in his hair again, stroking it as though he were a cat or something. Kisses to his neck and ear that weren't helping, and then... and then a hand that wasn't his own slid down his side, slightly ticklishly, and around to find his cock.

"Oh, Mer - Mercur-yyyy..." he stuttered out, into the bedclothes, before he was pulled around onto his side, prick still buried in his arse, and then his wrist was grasped and pulled down to have his hand wrap around his own cock with the other's over it, making him stroke himself slowly, too slowly, just as slowly as the cock inside was teasing now. Legs wrapped around his own, holding him in place, as if he had any choice about staying.

He twisted his head to muffle the blasphemies that were all he could say, inadvertently giving better access to his neck, ear and shoulder. Much more of this and he would be reduced to begging (when it wasn't about him and his pleasure, but about the pleasure of the man behind and inside him) or would just come anyway (and who knew how long it would take for the other to reach that same blissful state?).

@Gil

I'll bite!! PM coming your way shortly...

Rufus had put his head and shoulders down, which was master's fat friend's favourite position for actual fucking (when Rufus wasn't bent over the arm of a couch or something). He braced his hands better on the bed as the other set to fucking him in earnest. It had, after all, been enough oil, but Rufus wasn't going to come from this. He was fairly sure he was going to come away with a sore arse and bruised hips, but it wouldn't be the first time, and he'd live.

It was easy enough: make the free man hard, if he wasn't already, and just offer whatever orifice he wanted to use and let him get on with it. The ones who wanted more... well, the ones who wanted more in the way of participation than that would do better by going to an actual brothel and paying for it. Rufus wasn't an expert, after all.

And then a hand grasped his shoulder firmly, pulling him up off the bed and altering the position enough that the next time the citizen shoved in, something felt different and Rufus saw stars as a wash of pleasure broke over him.

"Bloody Mercury... oh... fuck...."

@Gil

He released his breath slowly; he had somehow expected a slap for speaking out of turn, but it hadn't happened. Instead, he'd been asked a question.

"I could take dictation, domine," he replied. He paused for a moment before continuing, his eyes focussed on the sale board the slave dealer was already writing out. "I can speak Greek, but only the dialect they speak in Campania, domine, and I can't read or write it."

It would be up to the dealer whether to include that, or not, as he chose. It wasn't the refined Greek of Athens, but Rufus had been told he could hold a conversation well enough with those from the east of the Empire, who spoke Greek rather than Latin.

The board was just another thing slaves being sold had to cope with, alongside being stripped if the buyer, or seller, chose. Petty humiliations that the free never thought about. There had been one dinner where his master and a guest had ended up debating whether slaves, being slaves, could feel humiliation or not, or whether the humiliation of being a slave could not be added to. Rufus and the others waiting at table had all been thankful that the conversation had remained theoretical and none of them had been made to strip as examples or illustrations.

@Gil @Gothic @Sarah

His legs were pushed further apart, then a hand teased at his balls and a finger - no, a thumb! - pushed back inside, playing with him for a moment before disappearing again. The bed dipped and then the other man was lying on top of Rufus, one hand at his hip, another playing with his hair. The man seemed to have a fascination with his hair, as many Romans did, being nearly all dark-haired themselves.

The nip that came then made Rufus gasp and stiffen momentarily, more from surprise than pain. If it left a mark, that would be visible tomorrow over the neck of his tunic, he was certain. And then he was pulled up, his hips lifted off the bed as he was pulled back, onto the man's stiff prick, until he was full, the guest's balls hanging against Rufus'. There was nothing but air against his cock now and he groaned quietly, muffling the sounds in the bedclothes. Some men liked their slaves to make sounds, others didn't.

He could not help writhing a little under the man, wanting stimulation to his own prick, the movements serving instead to remind him how stuffed full his ass was.

@Gil

This was... 'pleasant' did not quite cover it. Rufus' mouth was being efficiently plundered - the other man was a good kisser, but was giving Rufus little opportunity to kiss back. He was half under the other man, the weight of him somehow reassuring and warming. And then, suddenly, he was gone, rolling off Rufus to sit up and reach for the oil bottle before standing, looking down at the slave rather as a lion might look at a condemned prisoner in the amphitheatre.

The command to roll over was given in the same tone as every other order he'd received this evening, permitting no refusal.

Rufus caught his lower lip between his teeth and obeyed, spreading his legs. His prick was trapped beneath him and he wasn't sure whether to get his knees under him and offer himself up or remain flat, and elected to remain flat, his hands beside his head, which he turned so that he could see the other man standing beside the bed, stroking himself almost lazily. His cock glistened with oil (thank all the gods for small mercies!) and Rufus didn't know how it could possibly fit, even with the preparation he'd received.

It wasn't the first time he'd been used like this, of course it would fit!

@Gil

Rufus knew that he was here for the citizen's pleasure, not his own. If he were lucky, he might find pleasure in this. If not, well, that would be of no matter to anyone except himself.

The bed dipped as the taller man lay down beside him, without breaking the kiss which was growing more forceful. The finger inside him pulled out to be immediately replaced as the citizen's other hand tangled in Rufus' hair, pulling him closer, his naked chest pressed close to the other man's.

He shifted his legs, opening himself up to those insistent invasive fingers. He didn't know quite what to do with his hands and found himself reaching between them to the taller man's cock, his own lying ignored across his thigh.

He could deal with that later. Right now, his focus should be on pleasing the citizen. It would be nice if they could find mutual pleasure in this, but Rufus was not so naive he thought it likely.

@Gil

Rufus lay there, pliant to whatever the man wished to do. The bed was comfortable under him, far more comfortable than his own pallet on the floor in the slaves' quarters. 

The other man smirked, only a little, but it made Rufus wonder what thought had brought that expression to his face. He picked up the oil bottle (thank Jupiter!!), dabbed his fingers in it and then half knelt on the bed, one hand planted by Rufus' head as he kissed him again, forcing their lips together, sliding his tongue insistently against Rufus', who tasted the wine he had just drunk.

He was laid out on the bed for the citizen's pleasure exactly as his meal had been laid out before him earlier. A hand slipped between his legs then, ignoring his half-hard cock and making straight for that most secret part of him, rubbing at it for a few all to brief moments before a finger pushed insistently in. Rufus' gasp was swallowed by that forceful kiss, and his hands rose automatically to the other's shoulders' resting there lightly. It had been only a few drops of oil, not enough, surely not enough.

@Gil

Had Rufus been fucked before? What sort of question was that, and at this stage of proceedings, too?

A quiet corner of Rufus' mind noted the question; the sort of man asking it would surely not be so rough that he would tear and leave his bed-mate limping, in pain for days.

"Yes, domine, I have been fucked by a man before," he replied, watching the other from lowered eyes as the lamplight danced over his skin. He was a good-looking man, at least; Rufus had been fucked by far worse (there was that one friend of his master's who'd found easy living had gone straight to his belly; he was as round as a beer-barrel - and had about the same stamina).

There was something about being in the power of a man like Titus Flavius Alexander, who was bigger than Rufus and not afraid to make use of that difference in size, and the thrill of the thing was going to Rufus' cock. He hadn't had his question answered yet, though, and found himself on his back, looking up at the man.

Well, he reasoned, it would take less time than a single breath to turn over, if the citizen wished him on his stomach so he could be taken from behind. He hoped he would use the oil either way, but naturally could not even suggest it.

@Gil

The citizen pulled back, stepping back, leaving Rufus' mouth and hands empty. He remained where he was for a heartbeat, looking up, only rising to his feet at the order to get on the bed. He paused for a second; there had been oil provided for the lamp and he merely moved the bottle to the tray that was still sitting, untouched, beside the bed. He could not make the citizen use the oil, but he hoped that he would - for all his lazy command, he had not been thoughtlessly cruel like some free people could.

"D you want me on my belly or my back, domine?" he asked quietly through lips that were kiss-swollen, half on the bed already as he posed the question. Either position would offer a range of possibilities for the citizen, of course; Rufus was under no illusion that he would be allowed to get off himself - but then, his master's visitor had already surprised him this evening. Rufus could not presume anything.

@Gil

Rufus stood still as those hands, a patrician's hands, wandered over him, from his neck to his chest, possessive, intrusive, yet not unwelcome, before they slid back up, fingers sliding into his hair just at the back of his neck. There was a pressure on his shoulders, an unspoken command to kneel. The follow-on from that was equally clear, of course.

Rufus kept his eyes down, slowly going to his knees, placing himself at the level of the other's manhood. He opened his mouth to take it in, lifting one hand to help - he was not about to try taking the whole length in his mouth - and the other to hold gently to the back of the citizen's thigh to help him keep his balance.

This was a... not unexpected conclusion to the day. His master had lent Rufus himself, service and body both, to the visitor, and this was just the sort of use a slave could expect. Rufus was not awful at it, but did not think himself on the level of a professional prostitute, either.

@Gil

"Not wines, though I flatter myself I can recognise an amphora of the good stuff," Paulus admitted. "Paulus Annius Faventinus, at your service - I would be more use to you to furnish your atrium than your wine-cellar. Auctioneer and purveyor of household goods and furnishings."

If the other found a nice summer villa, it might be furnished already, of course... but what Roman matron did not wish to put her own stamp on her own house? Paulus could not name a single woman who took no interest at all in the house she lived in.

"Although I could recommend Sextus Aulus Crescens if you want good wine - don't let him fob you off with the stuff he keeps for those who don't know any better. If you can prove you know your wine, and can pay for it, he'll get you what you need, short of robbing Caesar himself of his best Falernian, that is."

Caesar's best Falernian this jugful certainly was not, but it was wet at least, and a second cousin, rather than a near relation, to vinegar.

"Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" he asked, lowering his own half-empty cup to the table again.

@Gil

Rufus sighed, inaudibly - there was no need to risk the other's displeasure, after all, and did as he was ordered, folding his tunic and setting it aside out of the way.

He was shorter by a head or so than the citizen. The muscle tone he had was from work rather than deliberate physical training, and his face and arms bore traces of freckles that would be out in full force once the weather grew warmer and he spent correspondingly more time in the sun. He had no scars as many slaves might, from the discipline of the lash.

As he turned from setting his folded tunic out of the way, he found his face cupped, long fingers curving over his cheeks, the hands calloused by sword-training and riding, yet still softer than Rufus' hands. He was being kissed, forcefully, the other man claiming his mouth whether he would, or not. Rufus' hands came up to grasp the taller man's upper arms, though his grip was light enough that the other could simply step back and break it; it was more to help him keep his balance than anything

"Domine?" he asked, a little breathlessly, once the kiss broke.

@Gil

It was... uncomfortable, to say the least, addressing anyone as 'Master' who wasn't Gaius Tullius Messala. But then, when you'd been owned your whole life by one man, it was bound to be uncomfortable. Wasn't it?

Especially when that master had died so suddenly, and the mistress who'd never really liked you (because you were a daily reminder that your master had slept with one of her slavegirls) sold you on with barely a word of warning. This whole situation was uncomfortable - but since when was this supposed to be anything else? Slaves got sold all the time, and nobody gave two straws about their opinions on the subject. Slaves weren't even supposed to have opinions, on anything.

"Yes, sir - Domine," Rufus replied to the man' s question. "I was a house slave, Domine - I helped clean and tidy, and ran errands, and waited at table."

The usual things, in other words. He risked a very quick glance up, trying to judge whether or not to volunteer further information. His mistress probably hadn't bothered, of course - why would she? "If it please you, Domine, I can read and write."

What he wanted, of course, was to go to a good master - but free citizens never cared about what their slaves wanted, either. He tried not to squirm under the citizen's scrutiny; he wasn't used to being looked at like this - he was used to being unobtrusive, unregarded, part of the furniture, the way most Romans wanted their slaves to be. This was... uncomfortable.

@Gil @Gothic @Sarah

(Linked by a friend)

Orbis: The Stanford Geospatial Network Model of the Roman World Friend's note: Works best with Chrome or Safari browsers. Calculate how long, and how expensive, any journey is throughout the Roman Empire. You can change such factors as season and mode of travel.

@Atrice  That could work. Been looking at Teutus, who looks like he could be a cool character, too.

2 minutes ago, Gothic said:

It has been added!  

Merci beaucoup!!