Sworn into Servitude

The streets of Gwen were busy and packed with people shouting and moving back and forth. The mid-afternoon sun was high in the sky and beamed down upon the marketplace. Hagglers and vendors shouted their prices while farmers moved their oxs and wagons through the narrow streets.

Visitors to the city would recognize the stone aqueducts, the finest architecture and engineering in all of the continent span their length across the outside of the city and towards the Vician lake on the eastern side. It was the first thing many saw on their way inward and quite the talking point for diplomats.

If one was in the middle of the city, the only thing at the moment that could be heard would be a deafening roar. The people of the city were used to it on Liolus, the day of the lion. The loud celebration came from inside of the colosseum of the city, the stonework just as masterful as the aqueducts and just as tall and broad.

People from city states that the Gwenians operated would come to the city on Liolus simply to get a glimpse at the raw display of wealth and power. From within, a warrior held up his long sword, his muscles flexing openly in the arena as flowers rained down onto the ground of the arena which was soaked in blood.

A second warrior kneeled below the other, his head lowered in a submissive gesture. Both were geared relatively the same; a leather shoulder harness that dipped below each of their sword arms along with a simple round shield and a typical helm painted gold. Blood covered both of their weapons and bodies and splatters of it coated the ground.

"Tyrus, King of the Arena, what shall I do with the loser?"

Tyrus stood from the chair he was sitting upon, the servants carrying wine and food stepping back and to the side. For a king, Tyrus was lanky and the pretentious purple robes did little to hold to his form. His nose was longer than most and his hazel eyes looked over the crowd who were cheering his name now instead of the warrior's own.

The crowd across the stands were on their feet, some were shouting their own fates for the losing fighter while others were just simply shouting. The energy was intense, electrifying, and chaotic.

"Kill him!"

"Brand him!"

"Mercy, please! He fought well!"

Among all the shouting, Tyrus took his cup of wine from a servant who held it out for him and took a drink before addressing the crowd, his arms outstretched.

"Citizens, did you feel Brutus has fought bravely?"

There was a roar of approval from one end and a boo from the other.

"Did you feel that this match was won fairly?"

More cheering and more booing.

Bringing his arms downward with a jovial smile across his face, Tyrus then said, "I am feeling generous today. This day marks the anniversary of Daved, the Weigher of Souls. The gladiator who was once a slave and then turned a warrior; proof that grit and determination can earn you riches here beyond your imagination. To remember his own lust for glory, I shall give his son a choice."

Tyrus looked down at Gogrel with a twinkle in his eyes and a grin. "You choose his fate."

Gogrel looked around the crowd, his brown eyes scanning from between the crack of his helmet, the style of it allowing his vision to scan across the crowd. He could hear the crowd's cheers as he held up his sword and lowered it to the losers shoulder and turned the blade so it was facing Brutus's neck.

"The fate I have chosen, in the name of my father Daved, is apprenticeship."

Immediately he heard a long boo to his decision followed by several more people throwing flowers down towards him, their smiles happy to see such mercy. Tyrus was surprised, his eyebrow rising but he still had a grin across his face. Brutus said and did nothing, his head still sloped downward in submission.

"Intriguing decision. Then it is settled. Brutus, you will meet Gogrel in his room stripped of your armor and rank and you will from henceforth be under him as a disciple in training. Mark him, Gogrel."

Doing as he was told, Gogrel moved his arm upward and gave Brutus a cut across his cheek which began to bleed. The wound was nothing compared to the bruises and cuts Brutus received during their battle and he hardly flinched as the metal cut through his skin and was deep enough to leave a scar.

Brutus did not wince as the metal cut through his skin, the scar adding to the many that crossed his chest, back, and legs. It was just another to the ranks. The tissue continued to bleed, the warm liquid a reminder of the pact that was made. Brutus could hear the shouts from the crowd, a combination of gleeful celebration at the mercy mixed with booing and cursing.

Getting up off the ground, Brutus felt a hand on his shoulder and knew who exactly it was. He could smell the sweetness of perfume and the silky touch that caressed his aching muscles told him everything; one of the servants of the private rooms. Not one person blinked an eye when he was pulled away from the arena by the graceful, but well-muscled man and led into the eastern gate; the Gate of Life. One can speculate on what the opposite side was called which gave Brutus a small shiver down his spine. The booing and cheering subsided, fading out before left to bounce around the cold and indifferent stone walls.

"Follow me, Master Brutus," the strangely cheerful voice said as his bare feet slapped upon the stone. Taking one look back towards the arena, the tired, dirty, and run down gladiator saw as Gogrel raised his sword up and flowers began to rain down upon him. Brutus would have felt a tinge of jealousy as his opponent was showered in praise, but he felt equally grateful that his life was not taken from him in something as brutal as combat.

"Come, come, do not dautal. We have much work to do for your presentation to your new master and home."

Wordlessly, Brutus followed and only gave a small grunt in response which received more scolding, "Use your words. You were taught to read and write, yes?"

"Yes," Brutus said with a tired huff. "Forgive me if I seem difficult, but I was bested in combat an-"

"Enough, gladiator. You have been stripped of your rank. Forget what has happened...the Gods have decided your fate and now you are here."

Brutus figured that arguing would be futile and simply walked silently with a focused expression. If being mentored by Gogrel would be his new role, then so be it. He must have been sulking for far too long when they rounded a corner because the servant began to walk faster. It gave him time to take in his newest companion.

The male was tall, probably about 6 feet and 3 inches. His arms were wide and muscular, but the trunk of his body was slender and an almost swimmer's build. The clothes that he wore left little to the imagination, the white wisps of clothing barely covering the royal purple subligaculum that showed his hips and backside to any viewers who saw it. The shorts allowed ample movement while still covering and cupping his important bits.The underwear was uniquely transparent, the viewer allowed to see each movement and buckle to the muscle.The markings down his back were tribal, indicating a different social status entirely and, to anyone familiar with the art, would also advertise the man's particular skillset.

Brutus's eyes looked to the torchlights that gave ample light to the cramped hallways. The stone provided a natural cooling effect to the air and the hall funneled it through. Brutus could feel his senses starting to become amplified, his nose flaring as he studied the unfamiliar environment. Eventually, the two came to an archway, the stone providing the opening into a brightly lit room. Two guards were along the side, their chests bare with only leather shoulder guards protecting them and a leather skirts around their waist. Their faces were covered by large gladiator like helmets that were a deep black with gold trim. They bore the armor of Tyrus's personal and private army.

Without even a nod in their direction, the two passed into the room. Brutus was awestruck by the sight. His quarters for when he was just fighting this morning were small and insignificant in comparison. Marble columns held the roof of the room upward and a small guard separated the room from the city across. In the distance, Brutus could see the markets and docks and even see the birds as they flapped near the harbor.

The sunlight came into the room, warming the stonework below their feet which felt wonderful even through the simple blood-stained sandals he wore. Jars filled with wine, water, and bowls of fruit sat on a beautiful carpet that appeared to be from the neighboring empire of Thela. A bed sat in the corner of the room, curtains that were as thin as the servant's clothes hung from it and the silken sheets looked ready for a body or two to tuck themselves under.

"Is my master impressed?" the servant asked with a wiggle of his eyebrow at Brutus's stunned expression.

"Yes, I cannot say I have seen anything like this..."

There was a solemn expression across Brutus's face, but it quickly disappeared as he felt quick fingers move through his armor and begin to loosen his trousers. He pulled away reflexively and was rewarded with a few more tuts.

"You know you need to be bathed and stripped of your armor, Master Brutus." Moving his hands away, the servant's hazel eyes scanned over the impressive male before him. "If you so choose, I ca-"

"Yes, I can remove my clothes myself..." Brutus said with an almost hint of irritation in his voice.

"Very well," the servant said as he stepped to the side. "My name is Rhezen. If you wish to gain my assistance."

"No, Rhezen," Brutus replied, if a bit irritated. He wasn't used to being so coddled like this. He softened his tone in an effort to recover. "I don't. But thank you."

The man remained silent, but watched Brutus nonetheless. Brutus wasn't a stranger to being naked in front of others. He had spent years of his life training to be a warrior, and that included numerous trips to the changing room and being surrounded by naked bodies. He was desensitized to it even. The large man proceeded to undress, removing the clasps that kept his tattered armor together. He unbuckled the leather straps carefully, taking care as to not agitate the wounds he had from the fight previously. One by one, pieces of his armor fell to the floor, the leather garment looking like a tattered cobbled together mess. But it was a mess that was his, having spent years of hard labor to earn enough money to even buy the thing. Coming from the poorest background imaginable in Gwen, the armor was almost like a luxury to him, like a long, well-liked friend moving away.

It served him well, all things considered. Rhezen picked it up from the floor, and wordlessly took it towards the side and placed it inside a wicker basket, the weaves tight and sturdy to keep the contents in. If Brutus were to harbor a guess, he would assume it was going to be thrown out the trash later. It wasn't like he was ever going to use it again anyway. Rhezen made his way back to him carrying the basket in his hands, just as Brutus stripped down the last piece of garment that clung to his body.

Brutus held the piece of fabric in his hand, now standing completely nude and exposed. He placed the dirty cloth inside the basket, and Rhezen smiled in acceptance. "Good," the man said, before putting it back down the floor. He turned his attention to Brutus, taking in the man's form. Brutus was a warrior in every shape and form of the word. Arms were big enough that could carry the heaviest of warhammers, and swing the largest of axes. His fists were calloused, and bruised, brought about by the bouts and clashes that he had without a weapon. Brutus's entire body was covered in scars, and those that weren't were bruised. It was clear to anyone who saw him would be able to know what he did for a living.

"Now," Rhezen began, "follow me and I'll take you to the bathing area."

Brutus nodded, following behind Rhezen. The two ducked under another archway, going into the torchlit tunnel as they headed to their next destination. Rhezen was quiet this time, allowing Brutus to be alone with his thoughts. He didn't get much thinking however, as the sound of rushing water filled his ears.

"This," Rhezen said, speaking again, "is the bathing area." The man stood aside to give Brutus a chance to survey the room. It was as audacious and grand as the previous one, marble floors, and marble columns surrounded him. Brutus figured the amount of money spent on this room alone would have taken him years to earn. Rhezen directed him to the stone steps that led to the pool in front. The water was clear, and warm to the touch. The entire thing felt like it was out of a dream, as the sunlight spilled from the open roof and illuminated the entire area. The water's reflection dancing against the wall. The room was clean, an elegant type of clean that hid what was about to be floating in the water and what probably has already been; blood, sweat, and dirt. The water even smelled pure, like an evening dew.

Rhezen's voice echoed across the spacious room. "This is where you'll bathe everyday, to make sure your body is clean for Master Grogel. This is also where you'll wash Master Grogel if he requests you to do so. It is important to give yourself to the one you are under tutilage with. Understand?"

"Yes," Brutus responded.

"Good, now get yourself in, and I will join you."

Brutus paused for a moment, but then shook his head as he lowered himself into the water. He could only do so little to stop the groan that escaped from his lips. The warmth of the water soothing his aching muscles. The dirt, blood, sweat, and whatever else that clung to his body was washed away, flowing down the excess and into the gutter built into the pool. This type of comfort was unlike anything he had ever experienced before in his life. The tranquil sounds of the water splashing against his aching body and the soft, red glow of the blood slowly moving away from him. The sting of his wounds was almost therapeutic, reminding him of what turmoils he had been through and all the hardship and stress his body was under.

The sound of water splashing reminded him that he was not alone. He turned his head, and was greeted by the sight of Rhezen joining him in the thigh high water. The servant had stripped himself completely, and was now in the nude much like him. Compared to his rugged, worn, and tired body, Rhezen's body looked like it was sculpted by the Gods themselves. He was a beautiful man, with soft white skin that was free from any scars or imperfections. He was physically fit, free from any hanging fat that would otherwise ruin the image. An Adonis belt that would elicit jealous by even the most well-built of the Gods and arms that were not something to scoff at. Now standing next to each other, Brutus saw that he was a few inches taller than the servant and yet he still found himself strangely intimidated.

"Please, sit," Rhezen commanded, addressing his attention to the marble slab that was embedded in the wall underwater. Brutus did as he was told, climbing up and sitting down so his legs and feet were still submerged under yet his maleness, abs, and chest were exposed. Droplets of water ran down his abs and to his belly button, the only visible injuries were the cuts without blood.

Brutus followed, sitting down on the cold stone. He watched as Rhezen reached towards the side and grab a wooden dipper, and a vial bathing oil. "You don't have to wash me," Brutus commented, seeing Rhezen open up the vial and dip some onto his hand. "I can do it myself."

"Nonsense. You must know how to wash Grogel." He then reached forward and began to apply the oil on Brutus's back. The touch was almost electrifying to Brutus. He wasn't a stranger to being given baths before. He had it given to him countless times whenever he visited a brothel, or had it as part of his victory spoils when he won a battle. But whether it was the oils Rhezen used, or the way his gentle hands caressed his back, it made the muscles on his back relax almost instantaneously. He wasn't even aware that he was moaning. Even the pain that came from the water and oils brushing against his wounds were, in a strange way, adding to the sensation.

"I am glad to see you are liking this," Rhezen said.

The comment burst the bubble that Brutus was in. It was only then that he realized that his own body was responding positively to the massage. His arousal was standing fully proud and erect, the sunkissed skin standing upright and throbbing powerfully. Rhezen poured warm water on him from the dipper, washing away the soapy residue of the oils.

"You have a very beautiful cock, Brutus," Rhezen began. He then nonchalantly reached over and gripped Brutus's throbbing member in his hands. Rhezen could barely close it around his palm, the sheer girth of it proving to be quite a handful. Brutus flinched slightly, the invasion of his personal space surprising him. "Long, and hard," Rhezen remarked. He sounded like he was inspecting nothing more than a piece of meat in the market. Like a bull who was being looked at before being chosen to mate with a prized cow.

"Master Grogel will be pleased." His hands shifted away, and Brutus gasped as he felt Rhezen take hold of his ballsack. The man shamelessly squeezed and tugged on it, making Brutus weak. If he wasn't seated, he would have probably toppled over. "Your balls are plump and full too. You haven't had sex much have you?"

Brutus gulped, trying to find his voice to answer the personal question. "N-no." He cleared his throat and answered again. "No, I haven't. Been too busy training."

"Understandable," Rhezen replied.

It was at that point that Brutus looked over and saw that Rhezen himself was aroused by the whole situation. The man's cock was just as exquisite as he was. For what Brutus lacked in length, Rhezen made up for. Brutus was thick as his own fist, while Rhezen was as long as Brutus's own forearm. The gasp that escaped his lips didn't go unnoticed. "I've been endowed by the Gods for people's pleasure, Brutus." He then smiled at him, nodding to Brutus's own stiff erection. "Much like you are. But do not worry, as I won't do anything you're not comfortable with."

Trying to think of something to stop himself from thinking of sex, Brutus figured to talk. "Is this...is this what you do?" Brutus asked.

Rhezen gave a small tisk, reaching upward and trailing his hand along Brutus's abdomen and up towards his heart. Brutus could feel his heartbeat against Rhezen's hand, and he closed his eyes as Rhezen leaned close. Even the man's breath was electrifying, as if holding back a deep, natural desire with each breath outward.

"Yes. I am a man of the flesh. I choose who I wish to be with. Grogel won me, however after a bet my previous master made with Tyrus went sour for him and I was set in Grogel's hands. He is quite the champion of the arena ...as you well know."

Rhezen used his hands to wash in the oil, Brutus giving another grunt but this time one that was deep and tied in with relaxation. Rhezen's hands worked down Brutus's pecs and back down his abs before wrapping around the massive pole between the warrior's legs in order to clean each and every inch. He did the same with Brutus's balls, carefully holding them and rolling them gently as if they were prized above all other parts.

"I'm not just Grogel's for physical pleasure, however. I am here for matters of the heart as well and of the mind. A sharpened wit and sense of self can sometimes be more important than the needs of the flesh," Rhezen said as gently as he was rubbing around Brutus's thighs. The hands then snaked upward once again and Brutus shivered slightly as he felt Rhezen's erection brush against his lower back.