The Gift Ch. 01

NOTE #1: This is a work of fantasy. It contains explicit BDSM content, including nonconsensual and painful sex. If that bothers you, leave now. I do not condone such nonconsensual acts in real life. This story exists solely as an outlet for some of my kinks.

NOTE #2: This story is influenced by ancient Mediterranean cultures, but takes place in a fantasy world. Hopefully, I'll have a chance to share more of this world as the story progresses. Feedback is always appreciated.

________________________________________

The hills and villa were aglow with the final warm rays of the setting sun. A welcome sea breeze wafted through the open window, carrying the smells and sounds of revelry from the banquet hall. Guests had begun arriving hours ago even though the feast would not truly start until after sunset. Deep indigo silk banners embroidered with gold danced between the tall marble columns of the banquet hall. The servants hurried back and forth between the hall and the kitchen house, carrying jugs and platters of the finest wine and choicest fruits and cuts of meat. Eskander allowed himself a small smile. Lucian, his father, was not known for doing things in half measure, and was clearly determined to make sure everyone knew what he thought of his second son.

The sun drifted lower on the horizon until it seemed to sink beneath the sea. A residual glow clung to the darkened sea, but the stars were clearly visible over the hills to the east. Eskander shifted in his polished ceremonial armor, waiting for the summons to climb the wide steps and enter the hall. The armor would be useless in battle, but even Eskander had to admit it made quite the impression. Its sculpted cuirass and matching bracers and greaves shone as brightly as his own golden hair and gleamed against his sun-bronzed skin. Even the tooled leather pteruges hanging from his waist bore gold tips. Between the armor and his massive, muscled physique, Eskander knew he must look like some demigod of legend. Which was clearly what his father intended. Tonight was as much about intimidating Lucian's rivals as it was celebrating Eskander's achievements.

A servant hurried up to Eskander and gave a short bow. "It is time, young master."

Eskander climbed the carved steps with a grace and quietness that belied his large size. Anticipation bubbled inside him. He was a warrior and a predator, and a part of him was eager to play his role in tonight's banquet. Let father and brother handle the politics, he thought, and leave the rest to me.

The music came to a halt as Eskander paused at the entrance. He stepped into the lamplight and a wave of silence washed over the hall. The guests had been herded to either side of the great hall. Those of highest rank and privilege stood by their tables near the far end while lesser guests remained along the outside edges, trying to get a glimpse of Lucian's fabled warrior son.

Eskander crossed the hall with long, sure strides. He kept his eyes focused on his father and the most honored guests at the dais while covertly surveying the rest of the hall. He took note of the various generals, admirals, and medley of nobility scattered amongst the crowd. There was young Aegeus next to his father, Anaxagoras. Pelagios stood tall, though it was clear the old admiral would have been more comfortable on a rocking ship deck than at a banquet on solid ground. The brothers Stelios, Timaeus, and Nestor grinned at him as he drew closer as if all fighting the urge to give him a friendly thump on the back. There were others he was less pleased to see - Lyandros in particular could go to hell as far as he was concerned - but even the worst of his detractors could not deny he had earned the honors bestowed upon him.

He was almost to the dais when he caught a glimpse of a woman near one the outer pillars. Seeing a woman at such a banquet was not entirely uncommon. There were plenty of women to serve and entertain guests, after all. But this one was undeniably different - foreign, probably. He barely had a chance to spot the slave collar around her neck before he arrived at the dais and had to turn his attention fully to his father.

Lucian stood to address him and the crowd behind him. "Welcome home, General Eskander," he announced, his voice carrying clearly across the hall. "As Prime of the Senate and representative of our great Empire, I welcome you and celebrate your victory over the eastern tribes. Long have they harassed our borders, yet you have succeeded where so many before you have failed! Your cunning and skill are a gift to the Empire, and we are honored to have men like you to protect us from those who would destroy civilization itself if left unchecked."

Lucian descended the short flight of stairs to the dais and clasped weathered hands to Eskander's shoulders. "And I think I speak truthfully when I say a man could not be more proud of his son than I am today!"

Eskander bowed. "All that I do, I do for the Empire and my kin," he dutifully replied.

His father gave him an approving nod and ascended the dais before turning once more to the crowd. "Tonight, we feast in celebration of my son and his great victory!"

As if waiting for that cue, the crowd broke out into a cacophony of cheers and applause. The music resumed and a servant ushered Eskander to his seat next to his father. Guests were already lining up to present their gifts and congratulations before the servants finished carrying the banquet table up to the dais. The table was laid out and wine poured for everyone. Eskander's own servants hurried to bring out wooden chests and set them by his chair. The guests began to step forward to present their gifts one by one, and each was given a gift in return. The exchange was perfunctory, performed more out of custom more than anything. Most were small - usually minor trinkets or jewelry collected on conquest - and Eskander pulled from his chests small gifts of equal value for each gifting guest.

Eventually, Nestor stepped forward with a smug grin even larger than before. "Tonight, my good friend, I give you a gift that needs none in return," he said. "I offer you this gift both as a token of my respect for your service to the Empire, and as a gift from one beloved friend to another."

Nestor motioned for a servant to approach. The simply-clad man stepped forward, leading a woman by a silk rope. Eskander immediately recognized her as the woman he'd seen before, but now he was given a proper view of her. She was short; her head barely reached Nestor's shoulder, which meant Eskander himself was at least a foot taller. Her thin dress clung to a willowy figure that seemed frail, though the woman herself did not give the impression of weakness. Perhaps even more remarkable than her size was her coloring. Hair as dark as night itself framed a ghostly pale face. Exotic as her appearance was to him, she was not at all unpleasing. In fact, she was quite... beautiful.

Nestor was not at all oblivious to his friend's interest. "While you were off fighting the tribes in the east, I set out to the western islands to seek out new trade connections. We acquired a few things along the way. I had a feeling this one in particular would please you."

Eskander motioned for one of his servants to take the rope and lead her to him. He stood to examine her. He raised one large, calloused hand to touch her face. She flinched from him, her eyes wide with terror like a doe chased by hounds. A thrill surged through him at the comparison and he smiled. "Yes," he said, "this one pleases me very much. Thank you, my friend."

He gave his servant instructions to take her directly to his rooms and turned to toast Nestor for his generous gift. The remaining gifts were presented quickly and respectfully, though none of them matched Nestor's gift.

Eskander felt the rest of the evening go by in a blur. He allowed himself to be pulled into some small talk here and there. He drank and feasted with everyone else, but followed his father's example and refrained from drinking to excess. Within only a couple of hours, the formality of the banquet gave way to the usual ribaldry of late night feasting. There were good-natured shouts and even a small drunken brawl. A few of the guests pulled serving girls into their laps. One even began fucking a moaning servant girl in the middle of the floor while his fellows cheered him on. Another man pulled him off the girl the moment he finished and took up where the other man left off.

A curvy servant approached to refill his wine cup as the girl was being mounted by a third man. Eskander watched them with a smile and grabbed the servant's wrist before she wandered off. He kept his eyes on the group on the floor while he urged the servant to her knees and guided her head to his lap. She knew what was expected of her, and she quickly moved to comply.

Within moments, she had her hands wrapped around the base of his thick cock and tried to take as much of him as possible in her mouth. His girth stretched her jaw, but she still managed to take a few inches and stroked the rest of him with her hands. He sighed and fisted her hair. Eventually, he stood and held her head in place while he thrust impatiently into her mouth. A few men nearby cheered him on good naturedly. He came with a grunt, spilling his seed down her throat. He shoved her away from him as his cock grew limp and he sat down to finish his wine. It had been a little satisfying, but not enough.

He watched as man after man took turns on the girl on the floor, and with other servants - man and woman alike. He considered taking another servant and fucking her properly, but his mind kept returning to Nestor's gift. The woman was in his chambers, just waiting for his aching cock.

Eskander shot a side look at his father. "It's getting late. I'll take my leave, if you don't mind. I don't think our guests will notice."

"I suppose they probably wouldn't," agreed Lucian. He gave a nod, then clasped Eskander's arm. "Go on, boy. And I meant every word I said tonight," he said softly. "You're a son any man should be proud to have."

Eskander gave his father a respectful bow and quietly slipped out through the back of the banquet hall. Marble steps soon gave way to gravel and then tile as his sandaled feet carried him through the gardens to the family villa and his personal rooms. The two guards flanking the entrance to his rooms saluted as he approached.

His rooms were much less elegant than the rest of the villa. Here was where his father's opulence ended and Eskander's simplicity took over. The lack of decorative furniture made it easy to spot the collared woman crouched in the far corner. He scanned the room, curious. The silk rope tied to her collar had been cut. He spied the other end, which had been tied to a bedpost. A chair and a few other items had been moved underneath the high window.

"It would seem I've interrupted an escape attempt," Eskander said in amusement. "Tell me, little one. Where would you have gone? Did you think you would get far?"

The woman shook with fear, but her voice was defiant. "Fuck you, tyrant" she spat, her words thick with a foreign accent.

It was only when she lunged forward that Eskander saw the small knife in her hand.