by Clare London
I paused. I wondered if I’d been too outspoken. But, in truth, that was how I understood the role of the Gold Warrior. We were rarely called to our Mistress or her Ladies. At this time of our career, our sexuality took a naturally calming path. We had our Guard to nurture and control, we had lives full of bureaucracy, organization, and the planning of military games, and there was always the threat of potential conflict. We were the ones a Mistress might choose as companion at a games event or a formal banquet. Our role was to be an agreeable, sensible, reliable support to the Household. We had no need of a raging libido, which could only likely be assuaged by our own Silvers. And they had aspirations elsewhere, with Mistresses to petition and fellow Silvers to spar with, in bed and out.
I did wonder at my sexual hunger. Witness my feverish response to Grien, earlier this evening. I looked at the naked woman lying under me and wondered why I still felt the same fire and regard for her that I had as a Bronzeman. The stab of desire was in my chest and sinking lower still….
The unusual conflict inside me was disturbing.
Mistress Luana also looked disturbed, and I was afraid I’d upset her somehow. “You’re not a typical Gold Warrior, Maen.” Her voice was soft with the seductive comfort of pillow talk. “You’re still rich in everything, everything you brought to me as a raw, delicious Bronzeman. Not many still have the hunger at your age and in your position, I agree. But I like that in you.”
“What else is there for a Gold Warrior, then?” I asked softly. “Am I a changeling in your Household? What possible need do you have for me?”
“You’re fishing for kind words, soldier,” she protested, but she was smiling, her eyes fevered. Her breathing became shallower as my chest leaned gently against her breasts, as I brushed the tight nubs of her nipples and nudged them erect. “It’s not your place to question. You serve us, and we allow whatever we think appropriate.”
“For the service of the city,” I murmured into her ear. I licked carefully at the pale, dimpled flesh of the lobe, lapping at the tiny holes, left empty after she’d removed her formal jewelry. She whimpered softly.
“I’m glad you’re in my Guard, boy.”
“I can be in many more places, Mistress… I can give you everything I have. It’s all yours to command.” My hand was between her thighs, gentle but firm. I knew where I was needed tonight.
She gasped as I slid a confident finger between her lips and then inside her. She was damp and very hot. My other hand slipped under her small, tight buttocks, stroking at the soft, puckered flesh between them, teasing at the nerve endings that I knew excited her. “Ahh… yes, I can feel what you have to give, Maen.” She moaned, her breath hitching as I stroked her. “I can feel it very strongly, that great column of hot flesh, pressing against my poor, soft thighs. Please remove those trousers and give it some air! Move closer, between my legs, oh yes….”
I dropped my trousers on the floor and wriggled on the bed to get us both comfortable. We enjoyed this teasing, bantering intimacy; this was often the way we spent our coupling nights. Her robe tangled around my ankles, and she gracefully moved sideways to give my larger body more space. Then she spent some time reminding herself of my body, as if she’d not seen it for months, as if she needed to touch every rib and trace every line of muscle down my legs in case I’d changed.
I knew my duty: it was to be always the same, steady and familiar in my obedience and devotion. Any internal disturbance must never show.
When finally my skin ached for her and I dropped my lips to her breast, to suckle like a true supplicant should, her words shivered into a barely coherent murmur of delight. “Which is better, Maen?” I rubbed the pad of my thumb on her swelling clitoris, drawing out both her bud and her gasping need. “The softness of a woman or the strength of a man?”
“In battle?” I teased. “In the Games? In the mines and the fields?”
“May life spit on you!” she groaned, a rather coarse expletive that I’d rarely heard outside of the barracks. Indisputably one of my own men had taught it to her. Her hips arched up from the bed and her thighs shuddered with the tension. “In bed—you know I mean in bed. You’ll soothe yourself with your magnificent Silver Captains when I’m amusing myself with the Bronzemen. You’ll have to, for there’ll be no calling for Golds when the young men arrive. Not even you, ahhh—” Her sobs were wrenched out of her as my fingers twisted inside her and pressed at that single, sensitive spot that made her hands tighten on my shoulders and her eyes roll up into her head. “Tell me how it feels, to take another man as strong as you!”
I shook my head gently, my lips still damp on her body. “Another time,” I said. “There’s no one as beautiful as you, Mistress. No one better than you.” Even as she dismissed the words as flattery, she loved to hear them. “What do you want, Mistress?” I murmured. “How…?”
“Nothing unusual.” She groaned, impatient for me now. She had no shame in admitting her desires, having few inhibitions. She was a very lively and rewarding lover. “Not tonight. No outrageous gymnastics, nothing worthy of the stories told by your Captains or the strenuous achievements of my early-evening Silver boy!” She could feel my laughter reverberating against her body; she’d imagine me wondering just how thoroughly she’d worn Justes out. “I just want your splendid body against mine and your hard member inside me. I want to feel your skin and hear your soft grunts of pleasure.”
I caught my breath, fierce impatience rising in me now.
“Enter me, Maen.” Her voice was more like a moan. “Now!”
“Mistress.” I rolled over her, taking my weight on my shoulders. Her legs parted around my hips and I pressed firmly into her. I felt the groan burst out of me—she was always so warm, so consuming.
She rocked gently with my thrusts and clutched on tightly, pressing herself up against me. The beginnings of sweat between us made our movements slicker, and I listened to the wet slither of our flesh. “I want something we’ll both enjoy,” she gasped. “And when I climax, you can kiss away my tears.”
“Tears?” I was instantly concerned, but her lips were on my face and her fingers tugged at my single gold earring, the badge of my rank. It distracted me.
“Closer, Maen—”
We were both too hot to concentrate on words now. Her heart hammered in her chest, her teeth bared, and she nipped at my shoulder as her head pressed against me. We were both close to climax, though the foreplay had been no more intense than other times. Our minds…. It was our minds that dictated the desperation tonight. I felt shaken, and a little shocked.
She cried out, trembling underneath me even as I kissed her neck and pulled her thighs tighter around me. “Let me hear you,” she moaned. “Didn’t I say I needed you tonight?”
I had no control over the cry dragged from my mouth—its source came from deep within my body, from my very groin, hurtling up through my chest and forcing its way past my heart without a care. It was the time no Mistress could control, either, and I could feel her gaze on me—bright, fierce, hungry—as my climax shuddered through me and into her. It robbed my arms of their strength and my eyes of their sight, and I fell to the bed beside her, spent.
Chapter Three
THE DAWN promised the fresh brightness of a late spring day. I’d been in the courtyard for a couple of hours already. The transport was due to arrive just after sunrise with the seven new youngsters for the Household. The other two Gold Warriors, Hull and Bernos, were with me. Together we ran the three Guards of the Household, and we’d divide the new recruits between us. Hull was the most recent promotion, and his Guard small in number. He tended to handle the domestic requirements within the Household, including the security of the Ladies’ quarters and guest rooms. Bernos was more experienced than I was and had been my trainer when I joined the Household. I had great respect for him, though my responsibilities had gradually eclipsed his. This didn’t cause any friction between us; even allowing for the fact such personal feelings weren’t tolerate
d.
“Are the boys here yet?” Hull asked, and I shook my head in reply.
He was younger than I, sandy-haired, and often abrupt with his men. He had yet to mature in the role of Gold Warrior. I was in charge of today’s arrangements, as usual. My Mistress didn’t adhere to any ideas of hierarchy or length of service. Each of us had only the responsibility she saw fit to give us—and she saw fit to give the new Bronzemen into my hands. They’d be delivered on a wheeled pallet drawn by horses: that was secure enough with no need for any luxury. They were bound for the life of a soldier, and although the Household of Trade would be concerned they arrived in good condition, there was no need to pamper them. The pallet usually had rough seats, sometimes a blanket. A low wooden rail ran around three of its sides, giving the boys some security as it traveled over the rough roads. The renovation work in the city extended to far more than its buildings, and the materials were just as scarce. The route to and from the arena had been mended several times over the last two years, but was still full of holes and stray stones. The Household of Utilities had a long list of explanations for lack of progress on the building work, all of which sounded suspiciously like excuses.
“Not here yet,” Hull called over to Bernos.
The older, heavier man met my gaze and smiled. “So we’ll leave it to you, Maen. Send the boys to our Captains when they arrive.”
I HEARD the rumble of the vehicle before I saw it draw up at the Household gate. It clattered through to the courtyard as if in a mad hurry. The Remainder who drove it leaped from his seat and came to meet me, hands clutching his paperwork, and shooting nervous glances back toward his human cargo.
Several of my Silver Captains were on duty with me this morning, including Fremer and Grien. For a change, there’d been plenty of volunteers, though the dawn shift was never popular, but it was the first glimpse of the Bronzemen—the first chance to see their new companions, the new recruits who, for a time, would eclipse them both in popularity and importance. I had no worries that the Captains would behave inappropriately, and I always thought that a little display of curiosity never went amiss.
“Sign here, sir.” The driver’s tone slurred with his haste, and he sounded fraught. I didn’t imagine the journey had been that bad, and his attitude angered me. We were both servants of a Mistress, but he had some obligation to show a Gold Warrior the proper respect.
Grien appeared at my shoulder, perhaps sensing my anger and keen to mediate. “You’re too hasty, man,” he said to the driver. He smiled as if he were being friendly, but his expression was as hard as mine. “You’ll report the journey properly before you go, and before we sign for anything. Are all the boys present? The numbers as on the manifest? I can only think you’ve got up too early to find your manners. Or perhaps you had problems on the way here that we should know about?”
The man’s gaze darted sharply away from Grien’s face. He looked frightened. “Maybe I did. Maybe it’s sorted now. There’s nothing to report, either to your Mistress or mine.”
The other Captains were helping the boys off the pallet, and I looked across. Six stumbling, nervous children, soon to start their adult lives, lined up against the shining breastplates of their new superiors. They were tired from the journey and their clothes dust stained, but a general air of excitement was in the air, from anticipation at seeing their new Household and pride at having been chosen.
Then there was the one tall child with white-blond hair, shaking off the help of the Silver Captains with the most casual disrespect I’d seen in a youngster outside of the city prison. He tripped as he clambered off the pallet, but he pulled himself upright and stood deliberately apart from his mates. His expression was antagonistic and arrogant. Unlike the others, his clothes were stained from far more than this morning’s journey, as if he had no best set to wear for such an auspicious occasion.
And his hands were bound behind his back.
“Why is he bound?” I kept my voice low and outwardly calm.
The driver glanced over, his manner defensive. Grien winced beside me, recognizing my tone.
“He’s… he wouldn’t sit still, sir. I was… I was afraid he’d fall, so for his own safety—”
My hand was at the man’s neck before he could form the next word in his throat. He gave a soft gurgle, and his head lolled back in my grasp. “That’s nonsense, and you know it,” I hissed. “I’ve never seen a boy arrive in this Household with any kind of restraint unless he was being brought in on a criminal matter. Has he committed a crime, somewhere between being chosen by my Mistress yesterday and arriving here this morning in your care?”
Grien stepped forward again and touched my hand. “The man can’t reply, sir. You’re cutting off his windpipe.”
I released the miserable driver. He dropped away from my hand like a cloth doll, but one that scrabbled hastily back to its feet. Hoarse words fell from his mouth in a mixture of fright and protest. “He attacked me, sir! I’ve never known a boy do it. They’re full of high spirits, sure, but they’re happy enough to board and put up with the journey. I’ve done this run for years, sir.” His voice was regaining its strength and so was his protest. “But this one!” He looked over at the blond boy, who glared back at him. “Called me such names, sir. Called me a traitor and a filthy slave, and then he fought with the other boys, and I thought they were going to fall out or damage each other, and my Mistress would flog me for that—”
Grien glared at him and he ceased his sputtering talk. His face was red, his hands clenched at his sides. More than mere name-calling rested on the outcome of this little scene. I turned toward the boy. I felt Grien stir beside me, but he stayed at his post as I strode across the yard. The other boys had fallen silent, watching my progress with a mixture of fright and awe. I suppose a Gold Warrior might be an impressive thing for them to see, at their age. It was a far more impressive thing to incur the wrath of one.
I stopped a foot away from the blond boy and stood there, staring at him. I was well over a head taller than he was, and much broader in the upper body. I wore the full dress uniform of breastplate, apron, and leggings, and the full-faced helmet. I carried both sword and dagger at my waist. Today I was the absolute Gold Warrior, which was exactly what I wanted them all to see.
“Look at me!” I ordered him.
For a moment I thought he might refuse; he still stared, determinedly, at something in the middle distance. I remembered this look of his from the Choosing, but just because he didn’t see something, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Slowly, he turned his head and looked up at me. His eyes were wide and a deep blue, rather than the washed-out, pink-rimmed look of many other fair-haired people. His forehead was high; his face rather angular, with high, sharp cheekbones, and his mouth was pursed tightly shut. The skin of his neck and face bore some scars and bruises, suggesting that his life hadn’t been easy so far, but it still had the smoothness of his recent childhood, the delicate sensuality that would fade after long years spent outside at work and in battle. His lips were dry, but their color was as pink as a dessert wine, and their fullness accentuated as he caught them between his teeth. His hair was his most striking feature—very long, longer than mine, and caught back behind his neck with a piece of cord. Loose strands fell over his forehead, teasing at the corners of his eyes, catching in his pale lashes. I’d never seen hair that shade before, as if the sun had bleached out any color, yet left it fine and silken.
I stared into his eyes, holding his gaze. He was angry, but there was fear in his expression as well. He knew he had no status here. He knew he’d behaved badly and was in trouble. His whole body was tense with it. Yet even as he stood there, awaiting my punishing words, he held himself proudly. His limbs were well formed and hinted at strength and agility. He was extremely attractive, and I felt an uneasiness that I quickly rejected. Without a doubt he could become a favorite of my Mistress.
“You know where you are?” I asked. His eyes narrowed and he nodded. “And why you�
��re here?” The nod came again. He straightened his body, lifting his head even more bravely. His tunic looked too small for him, as if he’d had a growth spurt and outgrown it recently. It hung out from his belt in several places. His trousers were tucked into shabby, worn boots, but I could see that the legs of the garment were too short as well. He would soon receive new clothes; it wasn’t a problem.
“Are you unwilling?” was my next question. It did happen, though rarely. “You do not wish to be a Bronzeman, to accept training for service to the city?”
One of the other boys snickered softly, through nerves, I assumed. I let it pass and kept my look focused on the boy in front of me.
“No.” His voice was deeper than I’d have thought for one so young and fair-skinned. “I’m not unwilling.” He offered nothing more than that.
A breath was indrawn sharply behind me.
“No—sir,” I corrected him coldly. “I will remind you of that only the once.”
“No—sir!” he snapped back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Orven and another Silver flash glances at each other. “The man mocked me, sir.” His voice shook slightly. “Tried to tell me I had no right to be with the others.” He flushed deeply, but his words were still clear. “He said if I really wanted to sell my ass, I should offer it to my own kind, not corrupt the blood of the Household.”