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The Obligate Ancient Roman AU Fic	By : varenoea Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1652 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I do not own or know any members or musicians of Rammstein, and I'm very aware that they didn't live in 40 BC. Because else they would be dead by now. Everything in this story and all following chapters is a big fat impudent lie.

Notes: "Tullius" and "Flavius" are real Latin names. "Flavius" means "blond", but "Tullius" doesn't, as far as I know, mean anything specific.

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This day wasn’t about to start too well. I had gotten up too late and I had to hurry to get to the office. There were important things to talk about, the management of the company was going through a difficult phase.

Coming to the atrium, I was stopped by the little commotion that took place there.

“Son!” She stopped me on my way out. “You come over here for a moment.”

“I’m in a hurry.”

“Just a minute. Do you have any use for this?” She pointed to a young man that stood at the rim of the rainwater basin with all the unhappiness of the world in his face.

“Mother!” I moaned. “We have enough slaves, why can’t you stop yourself from buying new ones? ”

“He was a bargain”, my mother said defensively.

“Bargain”, I repeated.

“Yes. He doesn’t see too well, and he may be a bit skinny. But he’s tough.”

“You bought him just hoping that I could use him.”

“Yes.” My mother beamed.

I took a closer look. That boy was three or four years younger than me, 18 or maybe 19, and had his brownish hair cut very short – as usual for a slave. He was really skinny, one of the type that had grown too quickly, but he had an appealing face and sinews all over. At least he wasn’t unused to work. He could probably be useful.

His gaze was lowered. He was nervous and swallowed more frequently when I came close to him. But, hm. He was a sweet-looking thing, to be sure. Suddenly I had a good idea what I could use him for.
“Where did you work before?” I asked him directly.

He just stared at the floor.

“I said where did you work before?” I asked more strict.

He swallowed audibly and stayed mute.

“Oh, great. Not only is he half-blind, he’s also dumb”, I said.

“Oh, he does speak”, said my mother lightly, “only he doesn’t speak about himself. I haven’t even found out his name. I’ve decided to call him Laurentius. We don’t have any Laurentius around here yet. That helps avoid misunderstandings.” She swirled away, towards the kitchen, to bug the slaves there, and I left too, not before telling the boy: “You go and see if you can make yourself useful in the kitchen.”

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All the day through, I was humming and looking forward to the evening. I had a distinct idea what I was going to do when I came home, and it made the whole day seem a lot better.

I was more fast than usual when I made my way home. After hastily eating dinner, I left my parents with a quick excuse to go to bed.

Well, it wasn’t as if they didn’t know what I did with the slaves when I felt like it. But they surely wouldn’t have any idea that I retired so early today just to try the new one out.
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I told Delia, the elderly manager, to send Laurentius to me.

He knocked, hesitantly, and then came in when I told him to do so.

Dressed in a white tunic, without any sandals, he stood in the door.

“Come in”, I said.

He closed the door quietly behind him, but didn’t come closer. I undressed, my back toward him, and then looked over my shoulder. He still stood in the door, his eyes widened with horror.

I just had to laugh. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous! What age were you when your master first took you into his bed? Ten? Twelve?”

He didn’t answer. He just looked down and swallowed.

“Once more. Where did you work?”

“I used to work at a tannery”, he suddenly said, in a very low voice, articulating every letter over-clearly, which sounded rather clumsy.

“Oh.” I laughed, remembering that these poor slaves had to wade in piss all day to drench the skins properly in it. “Well, don’t worry- it won’t get any dirtier than that.”

He gazed at me, deeply frightened, and squinted a little to see me better.

“Come here”, I said.

He didn’t move.

“Come here!” I commanded harshly, and he moved over. His face showed deep anxiousness, but somehow I couldn’t help the impression that he didn’t even know of what.

I could hardly stifle a chuckle. I was sure that he had been warned. Warned of what some masters did if you only walked around in front of them for long enough, looking young and fresh. He was really one of the sensitive kind.

I sat down on the bed and took his hands, looking up at his face. For the first time, I could really look into his pale-blue eyes.

“You know what I’m going to do with you now.”

“Yes, Master.” Barely audible.

“And what is that?”

His defiance and pride struggled toward the surface and put a blunt answer in his mouth. Or what he thought was a blunt answer. “You’re going to dishonour me.” Now that was really too neat.

“What I meant was: What exactly am I going to do to dishonour you?”

His mouth closed, and he stayed mute. Only now looking down wasn’t of any use, because down here was I. So he tried to stand my gaze. This was sweet. He really had no clue. But he was frightened as hell.

“Get undressed.”

He pulled the tunic over his head, and then his underpants fell. He was really all ribs and sinews, but this was exactly what I liked. And now his breath went in short sharp draws.

“Come here.”

Hearing a death knell or something, he sat down beside me.

“Lie down.”

He did, but on his back. With a swift movement I had turned him over to take a look at his back. It was thin but muscular, as was his backside. I felt I was getting hard at the mere thought of touching that.
He trembled a little. But he had given up. He knew that putting up a fight wouldn’t save his arse for one minute - I was just stronger. So he just lay there and waited for his fate.

I took a little bottle of rose oil. Going right for the centre of things wouldn’t be much fun. So I poured some into my hands and distributed it over his shoulder blades, rubbed it in and then slid lower, over his ribs, over his waist, and then to where I could feel the beginnings of his coccyx.

Hm. Nicely creamed. “You can bite the pillow if it hurts. But see to it that it stays whole.”

Then I slowly rubbed some over his behind. He winced. Unfazed, I distributed it in generous circles, every time my hands sliding closer to the crack in the middle.

With a knee, I shoved his thighs apart and slid over the insides of his buttocks. But only when I had covered every inch I started to insert a well-oiled finger. He clenched around it immediately.

“No, not like this”, I chided. “You must relax.”

I moved in and out a couple of times probingly. Then I took a second one. I thought I might be nice enough to do him this favour. He would still be sufficiently tight when I came to the most important part.

But by then I had really lost my patience. I had been looking forward to this all day, and now I just couldn’t heighten the fun any more by slowing down. I kneeled between his legs and started to open him slowly but mercilessly. And from then on everything around lost its significance.
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When the world came back, I was stretched out on my back and grinning all over with the bliss of orgasm. It had been good. It had been extraordinarily good, which was probably due to the fact that I liked the word “dishonour”.

The boy was curled up on the left, his back toward me, trembling and sobbing dryly. I lay like this for a minute or so, then I sat up on my elbows, feeling a little piqued.

“What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t answer, but he tried hard to stop himself from crying. With a look at his face I felt a guilty tug in my stomach. I grabbed his jaw carefully and pulled him over to face me.

“Nothing”, he said, his voice trembling.

“You know, you were really good, and I’d rather like to reward you in some way”, I said. “I got what I wanted, but I sure didn’t want you to suffer like this.”

He just swallowed and looked at me fearfully.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Flavius”, he whispered.

“That’s pretty.” I slowly let his jaw go. “Take a hot bath. That’s going to make you feel better.”
I called for Delia. She opened the door as if she had stood in front of it all the time.

“Get some hot water and give him a bath”, I said, making a movement towards Flavius who was horribly ashamed, lying there naked, oiled and weepy as he was.

“I’d rather bathe alone”, he dared to say.

“Good.”

“Yes, master.” Delia grinned impudently at Flavius.

“Out you go!”

She closed the door behind herself, still grinning. Flavius got up, pulled the tunic over his head and limped out too.

I fell back and sighed. I really didn’t feel as great as I should now. How would I ever be able to take that broken bundle into my bed again?
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The Obligate Ancient Roman AU Fic