Aaron was there and caught him, holding him down as Zanti pounded him, as Zanti pinched his thighs so hard they would most certainly bruise.
“In and out, Zanti pumped into the virgin boy,” Master crooned.
Ren let it happen. He didn’t mind rough. He wasn’t a BDSM boy, though, and not sold as one. But this was a performance, nothing more. A final conclusion to the Zanti character’s frigid pact with a world gone mad that forced him to sell himself to pay for his elderly parents’ care.
Yes, that was it, Ren told himself. That was all. He closed his eyes behind his mask and let that fiction claim him even as Aaron held him too tight, as the beautiful boy who was Zanti in the story pummeled him as if he wanted to tear him apart.
When it was done, when Master read the description in the story where Zanti’s whole body exploded in such a fierce orgasm his cock wouldn’t stop pulsing, Ren lay very still, letting the liquid fill him, feeling it run down his stinging crack, his mouth open, the dry air of the room coating his throat, making him want to cough. Tears burned his eyes but he would not allow them to fall. He would not!
Aaron’s grip on his shoulders had come close to Ren’s neck. Close but not quite. Was this how Master had re-trained them? To be harsh? To be cruel to the newbie? Or did they truly hate. Hate this. Hate the harem. Hate Ren. It hadn’t seemed that way only hours ago.
“In conclusion,” Master read, “the boy Zanti’s sex drive had been awakened so violently, and so quick and with such passion, that he could not hold back from wanting to rape all the men he saw in the count’s possession. The count lost control of him. The count kept him only for entertainment, so he could watch Zanti fuck and come over and over now that he owned him. He bought more virgins for Zanti to plunder, bodies for Zanti’s uncontrollable passion to wreck. And watched it all with hooded eyes, his blood steaming, boiling, for he had not known how good it could be to see a sweet boy who loved his parents be turned into this monster with a sexual drive that could not be sated. The count and Zanti lived for conquering. They became one and the same.
“Zanti never returned to his parents, but he kept them in good care, his money to them never stopping. His urges for the depraved and underground dungeons of the sex world grew. He broke many a soul. His appetite for doing so never ceased.
“And as for Ren, the broken boy from the attic was never the same. He wore his mask to hide his shame. And his own disgust for all things human. He moved through a world a ghost. The count dropped him in an alley of a shadowed city with a bag of money.
“Where Ren is now, none can say. What he did with his life and his money and his ghosthood is another story for another day.
“The End.”
Well, that was rather awful. And the ending for Ren. It was humiliating. He almost forgot it was a play.
He looked up through a daze and the limited vision of his mask. The others had strange looks on their faces. Aaron said, “That’s never happened before.”
Finn said, “Some game.”
Ren wondered what they meant. What had never happened before? But he had not time to ask.
The grooms began to move, gesturing the men up, ushering them to line up by the door that led out of the room and back to the stairwell.
Ren’s legs would not cooperate and for a second he thought his hips had frozen in place. His thighs had been forced so wide. He’d been given no respite, and his muscles shuddered, threatening to cramp. He felt a trickle down the insides of his thighs and looked down through his mask but had trouble seeing.
A groom shoved him forward. As he took a step, he saw pale pink trails on his skin. Blood. His ass was one big burn, but he could take that. The blood on the other hand unnerved him a bit. It wasn’t much, but still… He assessed himself for more damage but could not be sure. The pain radiated everywhere. And the still-bandaged burn on his chest felt like sharp stabs.
He blinked. His face was hot, wet. He wanted the mask off. His skin couldn’t breathe with all that gold metal pressed up against it.
Just as Ren had that thought, one of the grooms came up behind him and said, “I’ll take this now.” He lifted the mask off Ren’s head. It was weird to hear a regular voice after hearing only Master for so long in that room.
The air hitting his damp cheeks was cool, soothing.
The groom set the mask on a table by the door. As they all walked into the stairwell, Ren the last one out, the groom touched his arm and led him down the shadowy hall while the rest of the men began to descend the stairs.
Ren was motioned through another door. He entered an all white room with a counter and sink, cupboards, a chair and an exam table. Another man who also looked like a groom, dressed all in white, motioned him to the table. “Let’s have a look,” he said.
Ren obeyed, blinking fast, trying not to tense. Trying not to feel singled out, picked on, afraid. Everything was fine. The groom seemed nice. At least they’d noticed he was bleeding.
Ren scooted up onto the table, wincing.
“Turn on your side.”
Ren obeyed. The groom’s gloved hands gently prodded him. Ren felt something slick go inside him.
The doctor took off his gloves with a snap. “You can sit up.”
Ren rolled up and into a sitting position, crossing his arms in front of him.
“Minor abrasions,” said the doctor. At least Ren thought he was a doctor. The groom had technically not introduced himself as such. “You’ll be a little sore but you’ll be fine. Use this ointment twice a day for two days.” He handed Ren a tube of antibiotic cream.
Ren took it. The groom turned to the sink and began to wash his hands. The water churning into the metal sink with a drumming sound. He said, “Master wishes for you to abstain from sex for two days. The others have been informed.”
“Informed?” Ren’s face heated. But of course everyone in the harem would know everyone else’s business. His veins stung with a weird anger and he pushed it down and away. That anger would not do. Not here.
The groom turned from the sink, a small smile on his face. “There are very few secrets in the harem.”
“I don’t know any of their secrets.” He refrained from adding he didn’t want sex with any of them anyway. If Master called him, so be it, but the others? Aside from Cam and Li Po, none of them had been too welcoming to him. Their indifference was probably normal, but at the moment Ren didn’t care. And Master? Ren began to think something was very very wrong with their master. Why else wouldn’t he show himself? The voyeur thing was all right, but never to allow his harem to see him? That was unusually weird.
“You will come to know them all. Give it time,” the groom said.
Ren shrugged.
The groom continued. “If you experience further pain, inform Cam. He’ll make a record of it and I’ll see you up here again. Otherwise, we’re done.”
Ren slid off the exam table. The white paper fastened around the table stuck to his ass. He was still sweaty. Unclean. He pushed himself away from the paper and stood. It tore a little at the end.
Ren strode to the door where the groom who’d escorted him waited.
The groom-doctor said, “I suggest a shower, then use the ointment and rest.”
Nodding, Ren followed his escort out the door. He half-turned, Palace manners instilled in him from day one. “Thank you.”
Did he mean his words of thanks? Of course. But his annoyance would not abate. He felt as if he’d been betrayed. Which was odd because how could he be? He had no rights. He was owned. Nothing had changed. But in his heart he felt Zanti, beautiful Zanti whom he had actually felt something for despite his silence and his oddness, had taken some liberty, and Master had not stopped it. The others had shown no empathy.
He could not help but think they all hated him.
Chapter Fifteen
Pariah
The groom brought him back to the atrium through the door behind the tapestry. Half the men were loitering there, waiting to see him ret
urn, staring.
Ren inhaled a deep breath, then walked through their circle as if he didn’t see them.
Cam hurried along by his side. “You wore the mask and the cage. That always makes it tougher. It’s the hardest role. Now you know. But you’re okay.”
Ren turned to look at him, his braids flying, almost hitting Cam’s face. He opened his mouth to say he was fine, wasn’t it obvious with semen and blood dried on his thighs?... then closed it when he saw Zanti a foot behind Cam and to the side. Zanti frowned and parted his lips a fraction, turned his head about half an inch. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears. But Ren wasn’t in the mood to process that.
Ren glared back with all his might until Zanti lowered his gaze. Zanti’s aura was like a pin cushion of white on black. So many new tiny spots of light—had Ren put those there?—but still so dark. At the moment, he was too exhausted to care.
Ren glanced at Cam. “I’m fine.”
He heard a laugh and turned. Aaron, the one they all said had such a beautiful voice, who himself was as gorgeous as a cologne model ad—they all were—raised his eyebrows as if in challenge. Aaron who had never been trained, or so Cam said.
Ren let out a forced breath and shook his head. Were they hazing him or something? Fine. Ren walked right up to Aaron, who stood his ground. He gripped the tube of antibiotic cream in his left hand so hard he thought it might break. He was still greasy, still dirty, his thighs a mess, and bruises were aching on his shoulders near his neck. Aaron’s fingerprints.
Voice low, Ren said, “Thank you for keeping me from falling. It’s very nice when the new guy gets treated so well, since it takes time to acclimate, you know, to get used to different styles, a different life.”
Aaron took a step back, head down, and began to mumble. “Hey, I wasn’t laughing at you…”
Ren turned to Zanti, ignoring Aaron. “And thank you, Zanti, for your prowess at fucking that knows no limits. You were impressive. You all make me feel quite at home especially when I was feeling out of place and alone.”
Aaron’s mouth turned down. Zanti looked completely lost, then shuffled behind Cam who, eyebrows raised at Ren’s words, clueless, said, “All right then.” Cam’s face brightened. He clapped his hands together. “We’re all good, then, right?”
“All good,” Ren said coldly, and sauntered off to the showers.
*
Ren emerged from the shower still thinking about the evening. Trying to distract himself with other thoughts. Happier thoughts. Palace thoughts. How Master Holden would have reassured him he did his job correctly. How Master Locke would have come to visit him after something like this to make sure he was well, see to it that he was cared for and pain free. He would have brought him aspirin or something stronger. He would have stayed and talked with him in that soothing voice of his, and explained any questions he had until Ren understood the lesson.
This wasn’t a lesson, though. This was Ren’s life now. A life in a harem where the men were reluctant to accept him. Where they all seemed so easily two-faced, so moody.
What had he expected? That high school behavior ended with high school?
It was stupid but it still hurt. His vision blurred. His breath stuttered.
He quickly brushed his tears away. Only awhile ago, they’d all been prepping right here in the showers and wash room for Master’s summons. They had all worked together, helped each other, and no animosity existed. Or if it did, none of it had been projected in Ren’s direction.
After, they had behaved like children. Every one of them.
A shadow motion caught Ren’s attention. He stood up from drying his legs, towel in hand, and saw Li Po standing at the entrance, lean and golden, constantly sweeping the pale brown hair from his eyes. Lovely.
“It’s because they found out what you can do.”
“What?” Ren asked.
“Aaron’s a big bulldog, a blab-mouth. He’s not a bad guy and I enjoy him immensely, but he has trouble with talking too much.” Li Po looked up at the white ceiling as if searching for words there, lost words stuck, hidden, trembling. Like how Ren felt.
Li Po continued. “As soon as he came back, he announced it. To the room. That you see auras. It wasn’t just a story you all were acting out at the end. He said the colors tell you about passion, make you the best of lovers because you can predict where someone longs to be caressed. He said you made Zanti come.”
“So?”
“No one ever makes Zanti come. Not even if it’s in the story.”
“Zanti made himself come. He was rough and wild, almost as if it was rape to him.”
“That’s in the story. We’ve done it all before. But he still never comes. Not until tonight.”
“Never?”
Li Po shook his head.
Ren had never lived with this quirk of his—this talent—being publicly known. He had kept it secret for this very reason. He did not want to be seen as different or weird. And yet, Master had said he collected rare things. These men were odd, too. But Ren’s talent was different still. Psychic. Maybe even a little scary to those who didn’t understand what he saw or how he saw them. It figured he would be the different one.
Now they would all act uncomfortable around him. Unnatural. Suspicious. As if he could read their sins or their fears or their deepest, most secret and shameful dreams.
“In the harem we’re all brothers,” Li Po said. “And lovers. And we tease and we comfort and there’s even love. But when it comes to Master, sometimes the balances of power affect us. It becomes a fucking competition. Get it?”
Ren nodded. He did get it. Everyone wanted to feel important. Chosen. And they all were. Except they weren’t special if there were thirteen of them. It diluted the pool. Made no one person stand out unless he was different.
“Are you sure you understand?” Li Po pressed.
“I am. I do get it.”
“So don’t let it—them--touch you here.” Li Po pressed his hand to his naked chest. “It’s not worth it. It’s not personal, okay?”
Ren was glad to hear these words. Li Po was right, too. This new situation he was in was about a lot of things such as power, obedience, slavery, sex. A lot of issues came attached to those words, especially if they were all in one place. The need for approval, to be told you’re good, to feel worthy. They were like children. Competing. Vying for Daddy’s attention. An absent Daddy. A Daddy who never showed himself but took care of their needs, then commanded they do things for him. Things that exposed the self. And brought about a sort of dark eroticism that made everyone hungry, jumpy, and wanting it and not wanting it, competing for who could be the best.
Oh, Master had them all exactly where he wanted them. He probably got off on the dramas he created. He’d made them into some reality show of his own. All under his control as was his right.
Li Po nodded. “All right. Good night, then.”
Ren finished drying himself, his necklace jingling. Then he went into a private bathroom stall and applied the cream he’d been given. After that, he replaced the bandage on his burn. He had another special cream for that which would be healing for a week, or so Niko had said.
When he was finished, he went to his alcove. He had to pass several to get to his on one side of the line of small open rooms. Some were unoccupied. In a couple of them, men were lounging together, not fucking, but talking. Cam slept alone. So did Zanti, who lay curled and unmoving, his aura all black again, vying for supremacy over the alcove’s shadows. In another, the twins. Yet another, Calder and Jaxon, necking.
Ren entered his own alcove and immediately lay down in his bed, pulling up the covers. His tablet sat by his head on the nightstand, but he ignored it. He was too tired to read or watch anything.
For the first time in hours, alone at last, he could relax. Here in his own bed he felt contained, whole to himself. Unless there were cameras in the thin dividers between the alcoves, he wasn’t watched here. He wasn’t judged. He drew up the
covers, their crisp coolness against his skin offering a strangely clean and safe comfort. He curled around his extra pillows and escaped into sleep.
*
Ren pulled out the dining table chair and saw its cushion was missing. His ass ached.
All right, then. He’d grab his food and go sit on a couch away from prying stares. He didn’t want to be that guy who remained aloof, or acted too good to eat with the rest, but surely they’d understand. That chair was polished wood. And hard.
Aaron came up behind him, an extra pillow in his hand. He placed it in the chair, then looked up. “Sorry, dude, all right?”
“Yeah.” Ren had to sit now. Or he’d look like an ungrateful bastard douche. He sat.
Elbow on the table, Ren leaned his head in to his upturned palm. He was not ready to forgive Aaron just yet, but he didn’t want to push the issue. Honestly, he didn’t really think Aaron was sorry. Just showing off for the others.
The eggs were fresh, the toast hot and buttered, the orange juice thick and sweet. His stomach rumbled. He had two helpings of everything, including pancakes. He had to have burned a lot of calories last evening.
After breakfast, Ren went to the side of the pool with his tablet and dangled his feet in the water. He wanted to swim but dared not. Not with his ass on fire and brand still healing on his chest.
He tried not to pay much attention to the others. He did not see Zanti, but Cam was at the breakfast table, which meant Zanti was probably not far behind.
Ren was still annoyed, so he didn’t care if he ever saw that feral-looking fiend again.
He must have been giving off some real “don’t touch” vibes because everyone left him alone. Even Li Po. They had to know he was recovering. Fuming and healing. Wrestling with issues each of them had probably wrestled with in their beginnings here in the harem: pride, importance, pain, homesickness, a pissed off mood and lamenting that maybe sex might never be fun for him again.
The Slave Harem: A Kingdom of Slaves Book Page 12
