Chapter summary: Gaius Fabius Rufus and his freedman, Maximus, travel through Rome to attend a private slave auction.
Rome, AD 107
“Dominus, wait.”
Maximus was exhausted.
Exhausted and humiliated. As a boy, he had frequently traveled great distances with his kinsmen, often on foot. Now, after nearly a decade as Gaius Fabius' coddled cock warmer, Max was pathetically unfit. Hunched over and wheezing, he tried to catch his breath at the bottom of another long set of steep steps. Drops of perspiration pooled in the hollow of his broad, dark-skinned back.
He and Gaius Fabius Rufus had spent the better part of the early afternoon running up and down the steep slopes of the city in this blazing heat. He tried to keep pace with him, but the general was too fast. His master was clearly on a mission.
Former master.
He kept fucking making that mistake! Lord Fabius had said in no uncertain terms not to call him Dominus.
He was no longer Gaius Fabius' property. Not after that night a few months ago. One moment he'd been Dom’s pleasure slave — the next moment, he was a freedman. A client, Fabius had called it when he'd informed Max about his abrupt change in status. So what exactly were the benefits that came with this gift of 'conditional' freedom? Not all that much had changed, except that he'd been booted out of Dom's bed.
Yesterday’s shiny thing.
Streams of sweat began pouring down the coal black skin of his muscular neck and seeped under the collar of his summer tunic. This enormous city was an endless labyrinth of narrow streets, stone colonnades and steep stairways. He felt like a rat trapped in a maze in this place. And this time of year, the hot, humid air always carried the overpowering stench of sickly-sweet oleander mixed with urine. Perhaps soon they’d return to the cool ocean breezes of Fabius’ idyllic seaside retreat on the Bay of Neapolis.
Max licked his dry lips, inhaled deeply and then shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Commander!"
After swiping the back of his hand across his moist forehead, Max shielded his eyes and looked up the stairs into the glare of the midday sun.
“Hurry up, Maximus! We’re already late!” The silhouette of Gaius Fabius shouted down from the top tread. Before Max could answer, Fabius disappeared into the blinding light.
During the hasty journey from Fabius’ mansion to wherever they were going, Max kept falling behind. No surprise given that Lord Fabius was scaling every damn staircase two steps at a time! Max’s patron knew every district and back alley of this city. Fabius was never lost here. The man knew the ins and outs of the capital better than he knew the curves and ridges of his own stiff cock.
Max labored to the top of the stairs. There was no sign of his crimson-haired patron, only crowds of poor men and a few hags dragging their squawking brats through the noisy, filthy streets. This was a seedy and unsafe neighborhood. Lord Fabius mentioned that the emperor had recently ordered more frequent police patrols to curb street violence, but senseless attacks in broad daylight still occurred in some parts of the city. Despite his new freedman rank and his formidable size, Max was alone and vulnerable. He touched the solid handle of the dagger strapped to his torso beneath the folds of his tunic for reassurance. At least, as a freedman, he was permitted to carry a weapon for self-defense. He spotted another staircase at the end of the block and ran towards it. He almost reached the bottom step when a group of inebriated soldiers loitering in front of a shabby tavern stepped out of the shadows and into his path, blocking him.
“What do we have here then? A runaway?” The shortest of the gang squawked and then laughed, wads of white spit bubbling from the corners of his pudgy mouth. “Where’s your owner, slave?”
“Answer the centurion’s question, Ethiopian!” A taller soldier with a shaved head slurred.
Max faked a coughing fit and doubled over, slipping his right hand under his tunic to grab the dagger handle. He’d fight if it came to that, whatever it was worth. Although they weren’t dressed in battle gear, the brutes were armed with swords. Max counted five of them, surrounding him. He could smell cheap whorehouse wine.
“I’d wager he’s a convict that's escaped from prison or the arena cages.” Belched another swaying soldier, before he took a swig of drink from his cracked ceramic cup.
One brute shoved him. Another elbowed him from behind. They were pushing him towards a dark recess between two dilapidated buildings. Out of the corner of his eye, Max saw the stairs just a few yards away. He drew his dagger, pointing the blade at the chubby leader, and thrashed out of the suffocating circle of bladdered thugs.
Stay in the light. If they get you off the street, you’re as good as dead!
“I’m not a slave!” Max yelled.
The armed louts laughed, slapped each other on the shoulder and tossed back more rancid drink. Within seconds, they crowded around again, forcing Max towards the open door of the tavern. “That’s all you have, savage? A little itty-bitty knife?” The shaved soldier slapped Max upside his head and easily snatched the dagger out of Max’s grip.
“Now, Macro. Be fair, lad. He’s got a plump, delicious rump as well. Haul him off the street. Now!”
Two of the men grabbed him.
“I’m a freedman and a client! Get off me! I’m a client of Gaius…”
The wiry-haired centurion punched him in the face and then laughed harder, ordering his men to take Max to a cell in the far back of the tavern. As they dragged him through the smelly dive, gamblers and prostitutes cheered at the unexpected entertainment. After barging into one of the back rooms and ousting the slut and her client, they bent Max over and pinned him down, pressing his face against the hard surface of the stone couch. So the Fates had decided that he would die on this day draped over a whore's stained bed? Max shut his eyes and whispered a farewell prayer to his gods.
The centurion ordered two of his minions to stand guard at the threshold, and then strolled slowly to the back of the small, dank cell. He lifted Max's tunic and grunted perversely while ogling Max's delectable arse. Without breaking his stare, he gulped the last swallow of bitter wine and tossed the cup aside, his hand now free to pull out his short, fat prick. Max heard the centurion spit into his palm, and then the sound of the slime being rubbed over flesh.
“Officers first!” The centurion cackled with glee.
“Certainly.”
Just as the centurion started to turn around, a honed blade sliced through his gut, exiting just above his naval. He gurgled and groaned, his body jerking in spasms against the rigid metal, before collapsing onto the floor in a puddle of piss and blood. Expressionless, Fabius stepped back and raised a second sword.
Gaius Fabius glared. "Officers first, you know. So, who’s next? I’m late for an appointment, so let's be quick about this.”
The two goons froze with their mouths agape. Neither man could utter much more than high-pitched whimper, as they quickly loosened their hold on Max. Although they’d never served in the field directly under the command of Gaius Fabius Rufus, the soldiers recognized his unusual copper curls and his distinctive aquiline nose from portrait statues and campaign musters. The general’s leonine demeanor and noble profile were unmistakable.
They were imperially fucked.
Dropping the sword, the general stepped forward and stared directly into the wet, piggy eyes of the bald soldier. “I know each and every one of you bastards. Your name, your rank, and your eagle, Macro." Gaius unsheathed his own ivory-handled dagger and cut a swathe of unspoiled cloth from the dead centurion’s tunic and handed it to Max. “Wipe the blood off, Maximus. We can’t have you showing up to a function covered in filth, can we?”
“Yes, Dom... Commander.”
Turning back around to face the soldiers, the general barked more instructions. “Strip and throw his vile corpse into the rubbish dump where it obviously belongs. And then return to your precious families. You will wait at your homes for my fucking orders. Do not leave the city! Do you morons understand?”
“Yes, Lord Commander Fabius.” They murmured low in unison.
They lifted the centurion’s bloodied body and shuffled out, heads lowered in deference, making sure not to look the general in the eye. After they'd left, Gaius grabbed Max by the jaw, turning his face to and fro, inspecting his former slave for damage. Old habits died hard. Finally he cupped Max’s cheek and smiled.
“No serious wounds. You’re fine. Let’s go. And stay close this time, pet!”
His pulse pounding like a drum in his ears, Max chuckled nervously. “Thank you for saving me, sir. But — I’m no longer your pet, Commander.”
“Nonsense! You’ll always be mine, slave or not. Your new status doesn't change that, Maximus. You'll always need my protection.”
Max looked down at the dark pool of blood and piss on the floor. He closed his eyes and swallowed, nodding as he answered, “Yes, sir.”
“Let’s hurry. It’s not much farther. And don’t get fucking lost this time!”
Gaius darted up the staircase just outside the entrance to the tavern, with Max safely close on his heels. His fierce amber eyes focused straight ahead, he weaved through the crowds like a lion charging through the winding corridors beneath the arena. Max had never witnessed the games, but he'd once heard about the incredible web of tunnels designed to maneuver exotic, wild animals up to the stage for slaughter. During a dinner party last year, Lord Fabius and his companions sat enthralled as they listened to the emperor's architect, Apollodorus, describe with elaborate gestures the complicated underground network that lay hidden beneath the wooden floor of the great amphitheater. It was a fascinating story. Of course, most times, Max only overheard trivial nonsense when he served food and drink at Fabius' parties. But he paid close attention to every word of conversation, convinced that even frivolous tidbits of information could prove useful to him. And to his master.
Former master.
Shit!
Max sped up and trotted alongside his patron. “May I ask a question, sir?”
“As long as you don’t slow us down!”
“Where are we going, sir?”
As he waited for an answer, Max looked around. The grand houses and public buildings up here were certainly more opulent than the shabby apartment blocks located down below. But it was the color that was most different. It was greener, with lush foliage, vibrant flowers and tended gardens. And it didn’t smell like stale piss.
Gaius Fabius stopped in his tracks, and pulled Max over and out of traffic. Locals of all shapes and ages, many well dressed in brilliant fabrics, scurried by them as they stood there on the curb of the mobbed street.
“I didn’t tell you, Maximus?” Fabius’ brow wrinkled.
“No, Commander. You said we had an errand to run. And here we are, running. But to where... sir?” Max titled his head and smiled. Deep dimples hollowed under his high cheekbones and the skin around his dark brown eyes crinkled. Fabius gently brushed the raw swollen flesh above Max’s cheek with his fingertip. Even though he was nearing thirty years, Max was still so gorgeous. He threw his arm up and over his freedman’s brawny shoulder, veering them both back into the stream of pedestrian traffic.
“I’m visiting Gnaeus Decius’ estate. There’s a private auction at his garden pavilion. It started earlier, but I’ll get there in time for my purposes.” As Fabius moved closer to Max, he lowered his voice. “Decius instructed the dealer to set aside the choicest offerings until my arrival. He’s a smart businessman and a loyal client of Lord Petronius. Now let’s move.”
“Yes, sir.”
So, handsome Lucius Petronius was somehow behind this mad dash through the city?
Max shook his head and sighed. An auction — slaves for purchase. During their recent visits to the different slave markets in the capital, Lord Fabius had always walked away empty-handed, completely unimpressed with every creature that he saw. But this time was different. The general had certainly never sprinted up the hills and through the neighborhoods of Rome to attend an auction. And a private auction at an aristocratic home meant there would be only the highest quality merchandise for sale. Fabius’ associate, Lucius Petronius, must have tipped him off to some especially rare opportunity.
Max continued to trail his former master through the bustling streets, as people stared. Lord Fabius’ chestnut, spiral curls bounced with each deliberate stride. Even if he hadn't been a prominent member of the imperial court, Gaius Fabius would have attracted attention. It was the confident, fuck-it-all way that he carried himself — his natural charisma. Some in the crowds no doubt also noticed the dark blood splotches that soiled the front of the commander’s light-colored tunic.
Certainly Gaius Fabius wasn’t dressed to make a show of his supreme rank. He wore an unadorned ordinary tunic with a wide belt slouched to one side. It was a nondescript costume that contrasted in an amusing way with his expensive red shoes. Gaius Fabius Rufus wouldn’t forego his dear patrician footwear under any circumstances. "Always make note of a man's shoes," he had once confided to Max.
Noble shoes and fit whores. Max chuckled, readjusting the large leather travel sack slung over his shoulder.
As they marched through the streets, Max tried to imagine what creature could be worth all this effort. Lord Petronius must have discovered an exceptional young nymph for Fabius' consideration. That had to be it. Fabius already owned two beautiful boys but he only had one nubile girl, that quiet blonde, Zoe, whom Max rarely ever saw during the day. She wasn't his responsibility.
And, lest he forget, there was Simon’s mother, Callidora. The bitch’s cocky arrogance grated on Max's nerves. And she’d grown even more brazen and tiresome ever since her emerald-eyed spawn was promoted to Fabius’ favorite fuck toy. Yes, it was obvious. The general must be considering replacing Callidora with a younger, more submissive slut. Two boys and two girls — it made sense.
Farewell, Calli, you scheming slag! Daydreaming, Max pictured how Callidora’s hysterical departure would play out, her arms flailing and her long brown hair flying about as she was dragged off, begging Lord Fabius to reconsider.
Max’s toothy smirk vanished when another long flight of stone steps came into view.
“Decius’ grounds are up here.” Gaius hollered between huffs as he easily scaled the first four steps. “Behind Salus’ shrine precinct.”
Taking a deep breath, Max started his ascent and then suddenly stopped. “Wait, Commander!”
“By the gods! What is it now, Maximus?”
“You told me before we left to remind you to change into more appropriate attire, sir.” Max glanced over his shoulder at the travel bag that he was carrying. “And a quick wash perhaps? I mean, for the blood and all, sir.”
Gaius looked down at his stained tunic, rolled his eyes and nodded.
“Right.”
Pulling the damp fabric away from his skin, he descended to the bottom of the staircase. He closed his almond-shaped eyes and tightened his jaw before blurting out, “Ah! My buffoon client, Manlius, owns a small bathing establishment in this neighborhood. Come on then!”
After turning a corner down a side street, they found the entrance to Manlius’ modest bath facilities. The large wooden door was closed and bolted shut, with ‘FOR LET’ painted in large white letters on a board nailed to the doorjamb.
“Why didn’t the halfwit inform me that he shut down these baths? It’s his fucking obligation as my client to notify me of all of his transactions.”
“Yes, sir. Perhaps it’s a recent development, sir.” Max thought for a moment and then spoke. “Commander, doesn’t Alexander run a business for you in Rome?”
“Yes, he does. And it’s close. You’re brilliant, Maximus! Shall we pay our dear Alexander a surprise visit then?”
Max grinned. “Yes, sir.”
Alex’s shop was a short walk from Manlius’ boarded up baths. The ground floor workspace that Gaius Fabius had purchased for Alex was neither large nor elaborate, but the constant stream of steady commissions kept the freedman occupied. Max had always wondered how Alexander was getting on with his new life in the capital. The drastic change from Alex’s cushy days as a pleasure slave down at the Campanian villa to the hardships of surviving the hustle and bustle of Rome must have been difficult. Lord Fabius never mentioned his freed sex slave any more.
When they arrived at the workshop, Alexander was busy fixing the strap on another expensive piece of footwear. The daylight streaming in from the doorway was blocked by two shadows standing in the threshold, and he briefly glanced up from his work desk, pushing his long, grey-streaked bangs out of his eyes.
“I’ll be right with you, gentlemen.”
At first, Max didn’t recognize his dear friend. Alex looked thin and tired, with dark hollows under his once bright, beautiful hazel eyes. Alex couldn’t be more than forty years old, but with his slouched posture and gaunt frame, he appeared at least a decade older.
“Greetings, Alexander.” Gaius spoke softly, in his telltale, velvety voice.
“Dom… Dominus?”
On instinct, Alex dropped to his knees on the hard floor next to his bench and bowed his head. Gaius walked over and reached down to card his fingers through Alex’s thick locks. Gently, he lifted his former slave’s head and stared down into his astonished eyes.
“How are you, pet?”
“I — I — I’m well, Dominus. Business is brisk and the profit this month should be substantial. Are you — in need of shoes or…” Alex knew he was stammering like a fool but he couldn’t control his trembling tongue. Gaius touched his index finger to Alex’s full, succulent lips to hush him. Alex had been so handsome once.
“I’m no longer your master, Alexander. But I am pleased to hear that my profits are up. Excellent work. I knew that you’d succeed. Now stand up. You remember Maximus?”
Alex scrambled to his feet but forced his body to stay still, fighting the urge to run up and throw his arms around his gorgeous friend and former slave mate.
“Max.” Alex’s voice swelled with affection.
“Greetings, Alex.”
Fabius unbuckled his plain belt and tossed it to Max. “Alexander, I need to change out of this soiled garb and wash up for an important affair.”
“Yes, Dom… I mean, Commander. Please, make yourself at home. Well, it is yours. What I mean is… I’ll fetch some fresh water for you, sir.” Close to hyperventilating, Alex grabbed a large pot filled with dirty water that he used for working leather and rushed outside into the street.
“Pass me the satchel, Maximus.” With his wardrobe change in hand, Fabius strolled to the shadows at the back of the shop, lifting his tunic over his head in one smooth motion. Light beams from the street illuminated the curves of his broad back muscles and his toned bum cheeks. Gaius turned around, his cock dangling between his thick, hairless thighs. A lump of desire clogged Max’s throat. It had been so fucking long since he’d wrapped his lips around Lord Fabius’ hard length.
“Go see if Alexander needs assistance. You haven’t had a chance to speak with him since he left the villa, have you?”
With a blink and a shake of his head, Max snapped back to the present.
“No I haven't, Commander. Thank you, sir.”
Max bowed his head and darted out into the street, easily catching up with Alex as he approached the gushing water of a public fountain on the corner. Without a word, he hugged the shorter man, hard and long, before finally speaking.
“Alex! It’s bloody great to see you. Shit, I’ve missed you. Are you all right, really?” He cupped his friend’s face in both palms, until Alex gently pushed him off.
“Yes, Max. I’m fine. Really. It’s not a bad life. At least I have a profitable trade that pleases Dominus. Dom did look pleased, didn’t he?” Alex flashed a strained whisper of a smile, as he placed the emptied basin on the ground under the fountain stream.
“How’s life at the villa these days?” Alex asked.
“Filled with sassy, pampered boy toys, as usual. Most days I’m nothing more than an old geezer nursemaid. It was more fun when you and I were sharing Dom’s bed. Now those were good times, eh?”
Alex turned away, laughing softly, and then looked back into Max’s eyes. “How is… how’s my son?”
“Simon’s well. He’s Dom’s new favorite now, the lucky little urchin. Simon’s taller than you and he has your eyes, only greener.”
Alex tried to picture his boy, but the image was blurry. He hadn't seen Simon in so long.
“Does he ever… does Simon ever ask about me?”
Max carefully wiped a piece of dirt off Alex’s freckled cheek. “You look well, Alex.”
They stood there, not speaking, looking into each other's eyes, as people elbowed past them to get to the fountain.
Alex finally broke the bittersweet silence. “We better get this water back to the shop now.” The two started back towards the store, their brief reunion over.
“I didn't know that Dom was in Rome. Where are you two headed, if I might ask?”
“Gnaeus Decius’ estate. Have you heard of it?”
“Yes. It’s a nice place, not that I’ve ever been inside the walls, mind you. But it looks quite grand on the outside.”
“Hmm, I’m sure it’s magnificent. There’s an auction today. A private one.” Max lifted his brow.
Alex snorted, shaking his head. “Shit. So, will it be a boy or girl, you think?”
“Don’t know. Girl, I hope. I’ve got my hands full already with Nicomedes and Simon. I can't imagine the mischief those two rascals have been up to during my absence.”
When they re-entered the workshop, Alex choked down a gasp. His bronzed god of a former master was parading comfortably about the room stark naked, examining some of Alex’s handicraft. Fabius heard them return, but didn’t bother to look up.
“A customer came calling. I told her that you would return in an hour, Alexander.” Gaius grinned, as he picked up a particularly posh pair of braided sandals and examined them carefully. “Hmm, these are very well-made. Maybe I should order some new shoes.”
“Yes, sir.” Alex carried over the bowl, spilling some on the floor, trying not to drool over the sight of Fabius’ fabulously naked body.
"Can I be of any other service? Is there anything else you need, Commander?"
"You’ll help me wash up, Alexander.”
Alex smiled, as a flush of pink erupted over his neck. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”
“Maximus, wait outside on the street but don’t stray far. If my memories are reliable, this won’t take long.”
A short while later and Gaius emerged from the shop into the bright sunshine, dressed in a crisp and very clean, striped formal tunic that was cinched with a broad black belt decorated with silver studs.
Proper attire for a posh private auction.
“Alexander’s mouth is as skilled as I remembered. See to it that our young Simon’s cock sucking soon outshines his father’s mastery, Maximus.”
"I'll make it a priority when we return to the villa, Commander." Max's lips curled up at the corners.
Gaius smirked, as he adjusted his emptied balls and tightened his belt. He cleared his throat and snapped. “All right then, let’s go.”
When they reached the top of the last staircase and skirted around the high marble precinct walls, the grand entrance gate to Decius’ secluded estate materialized. A pair of well-armed guards stood at the portal.
“Greetings, Commander Fabius. Lord Decius has been waiting for your arrival. Vedius, escort our most esteemed guest, and his slave, to the pavilion.” Max made a pained face at the guard’s assumption but remained silent.
“What is your name, guard?” Gaius demanded.
“Bulbus, my Lord Commander.”
“Bulbus?” Gaius stifled a laugh, tickled at the guard’s unfortunate and yet strangely apt name, given the exceptionally round shape of the man’s large head. “My dear Bulbus. Tell me, have Petronius Celsus and Aelius Hadrianus arrived?”
“Lord Petronius arrived before the start of the sale, Commander. You should find him at the pavilion in the company of your host. And our most esteemed Lord Aelius Hadrianus sent word last week of his intentions to attend. He hasn’t arrived yet, I’m afraid, and the event is nearly over, sir.”
Gaius flashed a bright but blank grin and then pressed three silver coins into Bulbus’ calloused palm.
“Be sure that I learn of Lord Aelius’ arrival before he gets close to the auction pavilion.”
“Understood, Lord Commander.” Bulbus nodded. “I’ll handle it personally.”
Without any further formalities, Gaius Fabius and his weary freedman turned to follow their guide, who was patiently waiting for them a few steps ahead on the paved garden path. Young Vedius had never been in the presence of the emperor’s second in command. The striking, curly-haired general was imposing. Vedius’ hands were damp with sweat as he tried not to gawk.
As the three made their way down the lush garden path, Vedius glanced over his shoulder every so often to keep an eye on his charges. Staying a few yards behind their fidgety escort, Gaius leaned in and spoke low into Max’s left ear.
“Of course the furry princess is late! Publius Aelius always prefers to make a splashy entrance.” Gaius jested with a twinkle in his eye. “And I’d wager good coin that my dear little brother sent word in advance to secure pre-sale rights to whatever he's in the market for these days. I want the chance to acquire something exceptional before he shows up and inflates the prices.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Well, there it was. Another pleasure slave would soon be crowding the master’s chamber down at the seaside estate. Fortunately, a new morsel of snatch wouldn’t directly affect Max's workload. His primary duty now was to manage, discipline and train Lord Fabius’ boy toys. Handling those beautiful scoundrels kept him busy enough.
As they followed Vedius under a vine-covered trellis and then down the verdant garden footpath, Max wiped his damp brow again and relaxed. Perhaps, now that he was a freedman, he'd be offered a cup of chilled wine.
He and Gaius Fabius Rufus had spent the better part of the early afternoon running up and down the steep slopes of the city in this blazing heat. He tried to keep pace with him, but the general was too fast. His master was clearly on a mission.
Former master.
He kept fucking making that mistake! Lord Fabius had said in no uncertain terms not to call him Dominus.
He was no longer Gaius Fabius' property. Not after that night a few months ago. One moment he'd been Dom’s pleasure slave — the next moment, he was a freedman. A client, Fabius had called it when he'd informed Max about his abrupt change in status. So what exactly were the benefits that came with this gift of 'conditional' freedom? Not all that much had changed, except that he'd been booted out of Dom's bed.
Yesterday’s shiny thing.
Streams of sweat began pouring down the coal black skin of his muscular neck and seeped under the collar of his summer tunic. This enormous city was an endless labyrinth of narrow streets, stone colonnades and steep stairways. He felt like a rat trapped in a maze in this place. And this time of year, the hot, humid air always carried the overpowering stench of sickly-sweet oleander mixed with urine. Perhaps soon they’d return to the cool ocean breezes of Fabius’ idyllic seaside retreat on the Bay of Neapolis.
Max licked his dry lips, inhaled deeply and then shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Commander!"
After swiping the back of his hand across his moist forehead, Max shielded his eyes and looked up the stairs into the glare of the midday sun.
“Hurry up, Maximus! We’re already late!” The silhouette of Gaius Fabius shouted down from the top tread. Before Max could answer, Fabius disappeared into the blinding light.
During the hasty journey from Fabius’ mansion to wherever they were going, Max kept falling behind. No surprise given that Lord Fabius was scaling every damn staircase two steps at a time! Max’s patron knew every district and back alley of this city. Fabius was never lost here. The man knew the ins and outs of the capital better than he knew the curves and ridges of his own stiff cock.
Max labored to the top of the stairs. There was no sign of his crimson-haired patron, only crowds of poor men and a few hags dragging their squawking brats through the noisy, filthy streets. This was a seedy and unsafe neighborhood. Lord Fabius mentioned that the emperor had recently ordered more frequent police patrols to curb street violence, but senseless attacks in broad daylight still occurred in some parts of the city. Despite his new freedman rank and his formidable size, Max was alone and vulnerable. He touched the solid handle of the dagger strapped to his torso beneath the folds of his tunic for reassurance. At least, as a freedman, he was permitted to carry a weapon for self-defense. He spotted another staircase at the end of the block and ran towards it. He almost reached the bottom step when a group of inebriated soldiers loitering in front of a shabby tavern stepped out of the shadows and into his path, blocking him.
“What do we have here then? A runaway?” The shortest of the gang squawked and then laughed, wads of white spit bubbling from the corners of his pudgy mouth. “Where’s your owner, slave?”
“Answer the centurion’s question, Ethiopian!” A taller soldier with a shaved head slurred.
Max faked a coughing fit and doubled over, slipping his right hand under his tunic to grab the dagger handle. He’d fight if it came to that, whatever it was worth. Although they weren’t dressed in battle gear, the brutes were armed with swords. Max counted five of them, surrounding him. He could smell cheap whorehouse wine.
“I’d wager he’s a convict that's escaped from prison or the arena cages.” Belched another swaying soldier, before he took a swig of drink from his cracked ceramic cup.
One brute shoved him. Another elbowed him from behind. They were pushing him towards a dark recess between two dilapidated buildings. Out of the corner of his eye, Max saw the stairs just a few yards away. He drew his dagger, pointing the blade at the chubby leader, and thrashed out of the suffocating circle of bladdered thugs.
Stay in the light. If they get you off the street, you’re as good as dead!
“I’m not a slave!” Max yelled.
The armed louts laughed, slapped each other on the shoulder and tossed back more rancid drink. Within seconds, they crowded around again, forcing Max towards the open door of the tavern. “That’s all you have, savage? A little itty-bitty knife?” The shaved soldier slapped Max upside his head and easily snatched the dagger out of Max’s grip.
“Now, Macro. Be fair, lad. He’s got a plump, delicious rump as well. Haul him off the street. Now!”
Two of the men grabbed him.
“I’m a freedman and a client! Get off me! I’m a client of Gaius…”
The wiry-haired centurion punched him in the face and then laughed harder, ordering his men to take Max to a cell in the far back of the tavern. As they dragged him through the smelly dive, gamblers and prostitutes cheered at the unexpected entertainment. After barging into one of the back rooms and ousting the slut and her client, they bent Max over and pinned him down, pressing his face against the hard surface of the stone couch. So the Fates had decided that he would die on this day draped over a whore's stained bed? Max shut his eyes and whispered a farewell prayer to his gods.
The centurion ordered two of his minions to stand guard at the threshold, and then strolled slowly to the back of the small, dank cell. He lifted Max's tunic and grunted perversely while ogling Max's delectable arse. Without breaking his stare, he gulped the last swallow of bitter wine and tossed the cup aside, his hand now free to pull out his short, fat prick. Max heard the centurion spit into his palm, and then the sound of the slime being rubbed over flesh.
“Officers first!” The centurion cackled with glee.
“Certainly.”
Just as the centurion started to turn around, a honed blade sliced through his gut, exiting just above his naval. He gurgled and groaned, his body jerking in spasms against the rigid metal, before collapsing onto the floor in a puddle of piss and blood. Expressionless, Fabius stepped back and raised a second sword.
Gaius Fabius glared. "Officers first, you know. So, who’s next? I’m late for an appointment, so let's be quick about this.”
The two goons froze with their mouths agape. Neither man could utter much more than high-pitched whimper, as they quickly loosened their hold on Max. Although they’d never served in the field directly under the command of Gaius Fabius Rufus, the soldiers recognized his unusual copper curls and his distinctive aquiline nose from portrait statues and campaign musters. The general’s leonine demeanor and noble profile were unmistakable.
They were imperially fucked.
Dropping the sword, the general stepped forward and stared directly into the wet, piggy eyes of the bald soldier. “I know each and every one of you bastards. Your name, your rank, and your eagle, Macro." Gaius unsheathed his own ivory-handled dagger and cut a swathe of unspoiled cloth from the dead centurion’s tunic and handed it to Max. “Wipe the blood off, Maximus. We can’t have you showing up to a function covered in filth, can we?”
“Yes, Dom... Commander.”
Turning back around to face the soldiers, the general barked more instructions. “Strip and throw his vile corpse into the rubbish dump where it obviously belongs. And then return to your precious families. You will wait at your homes for my fucking orders. Do not leave the city! Do you morons understand?”
“Yes, Lord Commander Fabius.” They murmured low in unison.
They lifted the centurion’s bloodied body and shuffled out, heads lowered in deference, making sure not to look the general in the eye. After they'd left, Gaius grabbed Max by the jaw, turning his face to and fro, inspecting his former slave for damage. Old habits died hard. Finally he cupped Max’s cheek and smiled.
“No serious wounds. You’re fine. Let’s go. And stay close this time, pet!”
His pulse pounding like a drum in his ears, Max chuckled nervously. “Thank you for saving me, sir. But — I’m no longer your pet, Commander.”
“Nonsense! You’ll always be mine, slave or not. Your new status doesn't change that, Maximus. You'll always need my protection.”
Max looked down at the dark pool of blood and piss on the floor. He closed his eyes and swallowed, nodding as he answered, “Yes, sir.”
“Let’s hurry. It’s not much farther. And don’t get fucking lost this time!”
Gaius darted up the staircase just outside the entrance to the tavern, with Max safely close on his heels. His fierce amber eyes focused straight ahead, he weaved through the crowds like a lion charging through the winding corridors beneath the arena. Max had never witnessed the games, but he'd once heard about the incredible web of tunnels designed to maneuver exotic, wild animals up to the stage for slaughter. During a dinner party last year, Lord Fabius and his companions sat enthralled as they listened to the emperor's architect, Apollodorus, describe with elaborate gestures the complicated underground network that lay hidden beneath the wooden floor of the great amphitheater. It was a fascinating story. Of course, most times, Max only overheard trivial nonsense when he served food and drink at Fabius' parties. But he paid close attention to every word of conversation, convinced that even frivolous tidbits of information could prove useful to him. And to his master.
Former master.
Shit!
Max sped up and trotted alongside his patron. “May I ask a question, sir?”
“As long as you don’t slow us down!”
“Where are we going, sir?”
As he waited for an answer, Max looked around. The grand houses and public buildings up here were certainly more opulent than the shabby apartment blocks located down below. But it was the color that was most different. It was greener, with lush foliage, vibrant flowers and tended gardens. And it didn’t smell like stale piss.
Gaius Fabius stopped in his tracks, and pulled Max over and out of traffic. Locals of all shapes and ages, many well dressed in brilliant fabrics, scurried by them as they stood there on the curb of the mobbed street.
“I didn’t tell you, Maximus?” Fabius’ brow wrinkled.
“No, Commander. You said we had an errand to run. And here we are, running. But to where... sir?” Max titled his head and smiled. Deep dimples hollowed under his high cheekbones and the skin around his dark brown eyes crinkled. Fabius gently brushed the raw swollen flesh above Max’s cheek with his fingertip. Even though he was nearing thirty years, Max was still so gorgeous. He threw his arm up and over his freedman’s brawny shoulder, veering them both back into the stream of pedestrian traffic.
“I’m visiting Gnaeus Decius’ estate. There’s a private auction at his garden pavilion. It started earlier, but I’ll get there in time for my purposes.” As Fabius moved closer to Max, he lowered his voice. “Decius instructed the dealer to set aside the choicest offerings until my arrival. He’s a smart businessman and a loyal client of Lord Petronius. Now let’s move.”
“Yes, sir.”
So, handsome Lucius Petronius was somehow behind this mad dash through the city?
Max shook his head and sighed. An auction — slaves for purchase. During their recent visits to the different slave markets in the capital, Lord Fabius had always walked away empty-handed, completely unimpressed with every creature that he saw. But this time was different. The general had certainly never sprinted up the hills and through the neighborhoods of Rome to attend an auction. And a private auction at an aristocratic home meant there would be only the highest quality merchandise for sale. Fabius’ associate, Lucius Petronius, must have tipped him off to some especially rare opportunity.
Max continued to trail his former master through the bustling streets, as people stared. Lord Fabius’ chestnut, spiral curls bounced with each deliberate stride. Even if he hadn't been a prominent member of the imperial court, Gaius Fabius would have attracted attention. It was the confident, fuck-it-all way that he carried himself — his natural charisma. Some in the crowds no doubt also noticed the dark blood splotches that soiled the front of the commander’s light-colored tunic.
Certainly Gaius Fabius wasn’t dressed to make a show of his supreme rank. He wore an unadorned ordinary tunic with a wide belt slouched to one side. It was a nondescript costume that contrasted in an amusing way with his expensive red shoes. Gaius Fabius Rufus wouldn’t forego his dear patrician footwear under any circumstances. "Always make note of a man's shoes," he had once confided to Max.
Noble shoes and fit whores. Max chuckled, readjusting the large leather travel sack slung over his shoulder.
As they marched through the streets, Max tried to imagine what creature could be worth all this effort. Lord Petronius must have discovered an exceptional young nymph for Fabius' consideration. That had to be it. Fabius already owned two beautiful boys but he only had one nubile girl, that quiet blonde, Zoe, whom Max rarely ever saw during the day. She wasn't his responsibility.
And, lest he forget, there was Simon’s mother, Callidora. The bitch’s cocky arrogance grated on Max's nerves. And she’d grown even more brazen and tiresome ever since her emerald-eyed spawn was promoted to Fabius’ favorite fuck toy. Yes, it was obvious. The general must be considering replacing Callidora with a younger, more submissive slut. Two boys and two girls — it made sense.
Farewell, Calli, you scheming slag! Daydreaming, Max pictured how Callidora’s hysterical departure would play out, her arms flailing and her long brown hair flying about as she was dragged off, begging Lord Fabius to reconsider.
Max’s toothy smirk vanished when another long flight of stone steps came into view.
“Decius’ grounds are up here.” Gaius hollered between huffs as he easily scaled the first four steps. “Behind Salus’ shrine precinct.”
Taking a deep breath, Max started his ascent and then suddenly stopped. “Wait, Commander!”
“By the gods! What is it now, Maximus?”
“You told me before we left to remind you to change into more appropriate attire, sir.” Max glanced over his shoulder at the travel bag that he was carrying. “And a quick wash perhaps? I mean, for the blood and all, sir.”
Gaius looked down at his stained tunic, rolled his eyes and nodded.
“Right.”
Pulling the damp fabric away from his skin, he descended to the bottom of the staircase. He closed his almond-shaped eyes and tightened his jaw before blurting out, “Ah! My buffoon client, Manlius, owns a small bathing establishment in this neighborhood. Come on then!”
After turning a corner down a side street, they found the entrance to Manlius’ modest bath facilities. The large wooden door was closed and bolted shut, with ‘FOR LET’ painted in large white letters on a board nailed to the doorjamb.
“Why didn’t the halfwit inform me that he shut down these baths? It’s his fucking obligation as my client to notify me of all of his transactions.”
“Yes, sir. Perhaps it’s a recent development, sir.” Max thought for a moment and then spoke. “Commander, doesn’t Alexander run a business for you in Rome?”
“Yes, he does. And it’s close. You’re brilliant, Maximus! Shall we pay our dear Alexander a surprise visit then?”
Max grinned. “Yes, sir.”
Alex’s shop was a short walk from Manlius’ boarded up baths. The ground floor workspace that Gaius Fabius had purchased for Alex was neither large nor elaborate, but the constant stream of steady commissions kept the freedman occupied. Max had always wondered how Alexander was getting on with his new life in the capital. The drastic change from Alex’s cushy days as a pleasure slave down at the Campanian villa to the hardships of surviving the hustle and bustle of Rome must have been difficult. Lord Fabius never mentioned his freed sex slave any more.
When they arrived at the workshop, Alexander was busy fixing the strap on another expensive piece of footwear. The daylight streaming in from the doorway was blocked by two shadows standing in the threshold, and he briefly glanced up from his work desk, pushing his long, grey-streaked bangs out of his eyes.
“I’ll be right with you, gentlemen.”
At first, Max didn’t recognize his dear friend. Alex looked thin and tired, with dark hollows under his once bright, beautiful hazel eyes. Alex couldn’t be more than forty years old, but with his slouched posture and gaunt frame, he appeared at least a decade older.
“Greetings, Alexander.” Gaius spoke softly, in his telltale, velvety voice.
“Dom… Dominus?”
On instinct, Alex dropped to his knees on the hard floor next to his bench and bowed his head. Gaius walked over and reached down to card his fingers through Alex’s thick locks. Gently, he lifted his former slave’s head and stared down into his astonished eyes.
“How are you, pet?”
“I — I — I’m well, Dominus. Business is brisk and the profit this month should be substantial. Are you — in need of shoes or…” Alex knew he was stammering like a fool but he couldn’t control his trembling tongue. Gaius touched his index finger to Alex’s full, succulent lips to hush him. Alex had been so handsome once.
“I’m no longer your master, Alexander. But I am pleased to hear that my profits are up. Excellent work. I knew that you’d succeed. Now stand up. You remember Maximus?”
Alex scrambled to his feet but forced his body to stay still, fighting the urge to run up and throw his arms around his gorgeous friend and former slave mate.
“Max.” Alex’s voice swelled with affection.
“Greetings, Alex.”
Fabius unbuckled his plain belt and tossed it to Max. “Alexander, I need to change out of this soiled garb and wash up for an important affair.”
“Yes, Dom… I mean, Commander. Please, make yourself at home. Well, it is yours. What I mean is… I’ll fetch some fresh water for you, sir.” Close to hyperventilating, Alex grabbed a large pot filled with dirty water that he used for working leather and rushed outside into the street.
“Pass me the satchel, Maximus.” With his wardrobe change in hand, Fabius strolled to the shadows at the back of the shop, lifting his tunic over his head in one smooth motion. Light beams from the street illuminated the curves of his broad back muscles and his toned bum cheeks. Gaius turned around, his cock dangling between his thick, hairless thighs. A lump of desire clogged Max’s throat. It had been so fucking long since he’d wrapped his lips around Lord Fabius’ hard length.
“Go see if Alexander needs assistance. You haven’t had a chance to speak with him since he left the villa, have you?”
With a blink and a shake of his head, Max snapped back to the present.
“No I haven't, Commander. Thank you, sir.”
Max bowed his head and darted out into the street, easily catching up with Alex as he approached the gushing water of a public fountain on the corner. Without a word, he hugged the shorter man, hard and long, before finally speaking.
“Alex! It’s bloody great to see you. Shit, I’ve missed you. Are you all right, really?” He cupped his friend’s face in both palms, until Alex gently pushed him off.
“Yes, Max. I’m fine. Really. It’s not a bad life. At least I have a profitable trade that pleases Dominus. Dom did look pleased, didn’t he?” Alex flashed a strained whisper of a smile, as he placed the emptied basin on the ground under the fountain stream.
“How’s life at the villa these days?” Alex asked.
“Filled with sassy, pampered boy toys, as usual. Most days I’m nothing more than an old geezer nursemaid. It was more fun when you and I were sharing Dom’s bed. Now those were good times, eh?”
Alex turned away, laughing softly, and then looked back into Max’s eyes. “How is… how’s my son?”
“Simon’s well. He’s Dom’s new favorite now, the lucky little urchin. Simon’s taller than you and he has your eyes, only greener.”
Alex tried to picture his boy, but the image was blurry. He hadn't seen Simon in so long.
“Does he ever… does Simon ever ask about me?”
Max carefully wiped a piece of dirt off Alex’s freckled cheek. “You look well, Alex.”
They stood there, not speaking, looking into each other's eyes, as people elbowed past them to get to the fountain.
Alex finally broke the bittersweet silence. “We better get this water back to the shop now.” The two started back towards the store, their brief reunion over.
“I didn't know that Dom was in Rome. Where are you two headed, if I might ask?”
“Gnaeus Decius’ estate. Have you heard of it?”
“Yes. It’s a nice place, not that I’ve ever been inside the walls, mind you. But it looks quite grand on the outside.”
“Hmm, I’m sure it’s magnificent. There’s an auction today. A private one.” Max lifted his brow.
Alex snorted, shaking his head. “Shit. So, will it be a boy or girl, you think?”
“Don’t know. Girl, I hope. I’ve got my hands full already with Nicomedes and Simon. I can't imagine the mischief those two rascals have been up to during my absence.”
When they re-entered the workshop, Alex choked down a gasp. His bronzed god of a former master was parading comfortably about the room stark naked, examining some of Alex’s handicraft. Fabius heard them return, but didn’t bother to look up.
“A customer came calling. I told her that you would return in an hour, Alexander.” Gaius grinned, as he picked up a particularly posh pair of braided sandals and examined them carefully. “Hmm, these are very well-made. Maybe I should order some new shoes.”
“Yes, sir.” Alex carried over the bowl, spilling some on the floor, trying not to drool over the sight of Fabius’ fabulously naked body.
"Can I be of any other service? Is there anything else you need, Commander?"
"You’ll help me wash up, Alexander.”
Alex smiled, as a flush of pink erupted over his neck. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”
“Maximus, wait outside on the street but don’t stray far. If my memories are reliable, this won’t take long.”
A short while later and Gaius emerged from the shop into the bright sunshine, dressed in a crisp and very clean, striped formal tunic that was cinched with a broad black belt decorated with silver studs.
Proper attire for a posh private auction.
“Alexander’s mouth is as skilled as I remembered. See to it that our young Simon’s cock sucking soon outshines his father’s mastery, Maximus.”
"I'll make it a priority when we return to the villa, Commander." Max's lips curled up at the corners.
Gaius smirked, as he adjusted his emptied balls and tightened his belt. He cleared his throat and snapped. “All right then, let’s go.”
When they reached the top of the last staircase and skirted around the high marble precinct walls, the grand entrance gate to Decius’ secluded estate materialized. A pair of well-armed guards stood at the portal.
“Greetings, Commander Fabius. Lord Decius has been waiting for your arrival. Vedius, escort our most esteemed guest, and his slave, to the pavilion.” Max made a pained face at the guard’s assumption but remained silent.
“What is your name, guard?” Gaius demanded.
“Bulbus, my Lord Commander.”
“Bulbus?” Gaius stifled a laugh, tickled at the guard’s unfortunate and yet strangely apt name, given the exceptionally round shape of the man’s large head. “My dear Bulbus. Tell me, have Petronius Celsus and Aelius Hadrianus arrived?”
“Lord Petronius arrived before the start of the sale, Commander. You should find him at the pavilion in the company of your host. And our most esteemed Lord Aelius Hadrianus sent word last week of his intentions to attend. He hasn’t arrived yet, I’m afraid, and the event is nearly over, sir.”
Gaius flashed a bright but blank grin and then pressed three silver coins into Bulbus’ calloused palm.
“Be sure that I learn of Lord Aelius’ arrival before he gets close to the auction pavilion.”
“Understood, Lord Commander.” Bulbus nodded. “I’ll handle it personally.”
Without any further formalities, Gaius Fabius and his weary freedman turned to follow their guide, who was patiently waiting for them a few steps ahead on the paved garden path. Young Vedius had never been in the presence of the emperor’s second in command. The striking, curly-haired general was imposing. Vedius’ hands were damp with sweat as he tried not to gawk.
As the three made their way down the lush garden path, Vedius glanced over his shoulder every so often to keep an eye on his charges. Staying a few yards behind their fidgety escort, Gaius leaned in and spoke low into Max’s left ear.
“Of course the furry princess is late! Publius Aelius always prefers to make a splashy entrance.” Gaius jested with a twinkle in his eye. “And I’d wager good coin that my dear little brother sent word in advance to secure pre-sale rights to whatever he's in the market for these days. I want the chance to acquire something exceptional before he shows up and inflates the prices.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Well, there it was. Another pleasure slave would soon be crowding the master’s chamber down at the seaside estate. Fortunately, a new morsel of snatch wouldn’t directly affect Max's workload. His primary duty now was to manage, discipline and train Lord Fabius’ boy toys. Handling those beautiful scoundrels kept him busy enough.
As they followed Vedius under a vine-covered trellis and then down the verdant garden footpath, Max wiped his damp brow again and relaxed. Perhaps, now that he was a freedman, he'd be offered a cup of chilled wine.
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