I take you back to a time long ago.
Of a man who may have known Hercules, or Jason the Argonaut as the stories go.
In the Kingdom of Thrace, close to the Aegean sea.
Orpheus, the prince, son of Apollo and Calliope.
His skin was fair, his locks were lush.
With just a look, he made lovers blush.
But beauty was not his greatest gift.
He could play instruments and sing, with a magical riff.
Divinely blessed he was, of that there was no doubt.
His music could drive all fear, and anger and hatred out.
Above all else, Orpheus was a man driven by love.
Until the cruel fates decided to intervene from above.
Chapter 1
Thrace, What a Wonderful Place
Orpheus dashed through the palace looking for his house servant Abaris. He had finally made the decision. He was going to tell everyone, but first he would tell Abaris, his most trusted confidant. Abaris had been given to him when he was just a boy. They were almost the same age then. Abaris was only a few years older, brought in from Scythia and trained in the ways of a house servant. He was meant as more for Orpheus though. Not just a body he could call on to fetch what he needed like the other house staff, but a peer, even if they would never be equals.
Orpheus ran into the imperial gardens, but found them empty except for a lonely gardener tending to patches of Iris and Narcissus near the main fountain. Thinking about the likeliest place Abaris might be at this time of the day, Orpheus headed off towards the kitchens next. It was nearing supper time and Abaris might already be instructing the cooks on what to prepare for Orpheus’ evening meal.
As he ran, Orpheus decided he ought to save himself the trouble of searching the palace twice and began yelling as he went.
“Abaris!” he screamed. “Abaris, where are you, you sneaky scoundrel!?”
Abaris did not emerge from any of the nearby corridors or chambers so Orpheus carried on through the brightly painted red, gold and aquamarine halls of his father’s home, ignoring the elaborate wall murals as he went.
Orpheus dashed into the royal library, laden with volumes of scrolls of every description. Texts collected from every corner of the Aegean and beyond on topics like medicine, philosophy, poetry, astronomy and more. The air carried the dry sweetness of papyrus, dusty soot from the charcoal and a sour tang from the wine the scholars ground into it.
Olive oil smoke clung to the walls, the lamps emitting the only dim source of light in the room. Small wooden benches lined the walls nearest the light surrounding the shelves of stored knowledge.
It was here that Orpheus found Abaris, speaking with the Oikonomos, Nikandros, in charge of the palace finances, huddled over some scrolls, deep in discussion.
“Abaris!” Orpheus shouted, startling him from his work.
“Master,” he responded, turning to meet Orpheus with a curt bow. “I did not hear you approaching.”
“You did not hear me calling you through the palace halls. I shouted like an Erinys seeking a maiden’s justice!”
Abaris bowed his head lower to the ground.
“I apologize, Master. I should have been more attentive.”
“I kid, Abaris,” Orpheus laughed. “I bring news of glad tidings. Come; we have much to discuss.”
Abaris excused himself from his conversation with Nikandros and followed Orpheus out of the library where the young prince led him to his private chambers. Once inside, Orpheus immediately gave him the news.
“Eurydikos and I are to be married!”
Abaris’ eyes went wide and a smile spread across his face.
“My heart is glad for you, Master. Does your father know?”
“You are the first person I have told, Abaris,” Orpheus explained. “In all my life, you have been my most trusted companion. I wanted to share this news with you first.”
Abaris looked pleased as, truly, a slave should upon receiving such an honor.
“Thank you, Master, for sharing this with me. I feel blessed to be in your confidence, as always.”
Orpheus looked at Abaris; his words were genuine.
“You have always been more than a slave to me, Abaris. We have grown up together. You are my friend.”
Abaris looked at Orpheus, hands clutched together tightly as though he couldn’t decide what to do with them and he said, “And you, Master, you are eminently wise, and gracious, and I appreciate the life you have given me as the son of captives.”
Orpheus smiled gently at his simply-dressed servant and then launched into the details of his wedding plans.
“Eurydikos and I are to be married,” Orpheus repeated. “It will be a grand affair. Much is already planned; we need only invite the guests. His family has already approved the match and father and I have spoken of it as well, so I only require his formal blessing. There is happily no issue of dowry to negotiate so we can be wed on White Tree Hill one month hence.”
“And young Eurydikos, how is he?” Abaris asked.
“Probably the only man in Thrace who is happier than I right now,” Orpheus answered, grinning widely. “He waits patiently for our wedding day, but he discusses little else.”
Abaris chuckled knowingly.
“I can still see his face the last time we spoke. It was flush with excitement. So pure. His tangled locks covering his eyes. He had to throw them back so he could keep my stare. His smile was infectious. We were in the public square. I could barely keep myself from ripping his Chiton off and taking him right there. He is so pure, and beautiful, and innocent. My love for him knows no limits, nor my lust,” Orpheus mused.
Abaris nodded slowly.
“You two share a bond few are ever lucky enough to enjoy. Treasure it, Master.”
“I shall, Abaris. I shall,” Orpheus assured. “But right now, all this talk and thought of Eurydikos supple, young body has aroused my loins and I shall not deliver this news to my father in such a state.”
Orpheus sat down on his tall, well-adorned bed, stuffed with lush wools and plush feathers, sat over stiff leather straps and raised his himation up above his waist. Orpheus had not been lying about his arousal. His large, thick cock stood erect, foreskin pulled back, glans shiny, as though they were demanding attention.
If his cock did not demand the attention directly, Orpheus did though.
“Eurydikos still does not have as skilled a mouth as you do Abaris, but he will surely learn as my husband.” Orpheus laughed. “Now attend to this before I go see my father!”
Abaris crossed the space between them and descended to his knees before Orpheus. Years of practice and training had taught Abaris exactly how to please his Master and he performed from memory more than conscious will.
Abaris placed himself in the position he knew Orpheus liked best, a position where he could best leverage himself to pleasure his young monarch. Orpheus, similarly accustomed to years of Abaris’ service, settled back, placing his hands to his sides, allowing his slave to do all of the work, secure in the knowledge he would receive excellent service.
Abaris’ head enveloped Orpheus’ shaft immediately, without hesitation. He tasted Orpheus’ familiar musk and the accumulated sweat of the day in the Grecian sun and continued down Orpheus’ pole as he’d been trained. Oral sex was not customary in Greek society. Most slaves like him would be expected to perform anal sex, but oral was a taboo for most Greeks.
Orpheus was different. Having a slave from a young age, Orpheus had experimented and learned to enjoy the act. He dispensed with societal norms and became a glutton for the experience, taking advantage of Abaris’ warm mouth frequently. He penetrated Abaris anally too, like every good Greek master would, but he never lost his appetite for oral activities. He even expanded them.
Abaris never balked; he just served.
As Abaris slid up and down Orpheus' long, glistening shaft, he thought about those other oral activities. Given his joy, and the celebrations that were about to ensue, it only seemed appropriate to indulge.
Orpheus pulled Abaris’ head off his dick, seeing his glossy eyed slave in the state which he knew meant his brain had gone into servitude mode. He threw his legs behind his head, rolling backwards on the bed, and grabbed Abaris’ head with one hand, pulling it towards his now exposed royal anus.
Abaris did not need any instructions. He’d done this hundreds of times over the years. He pressed his face into Orpheus' ass and began to consume Orpheus' asshole, lavishing it with his tongue. Abaris knew the taste of Orpheus’s ass just as he knew the taste of his cock and he did not balk at this either. He had grown accustomed to many things under Orpheus’ training. Orpheus had never been cruel and Abaris had been selected for Orpheus because his persuasion was already suspected at a young age.
Abaris licked Orpheus pucker slowly, the way he knew Orpheus preferred. Long, delicate strokes along the hole, no penetration at first. His tongue darted up and down, ignoring the occasional hair in favour of his Master’s pleasure. The moans Orpheus would emit here and there were Abaris' only reward, the only sign he was doing right.
Soon his tongue formed a dagger-like shape and started to probe at his Master’s hole. He knew not to push in forcefully. Orpheus liked him to worm his tongue in slowly, like every other part of this ritual. He felt Orpheus' hand grip the back of his head tighter and push him in further. His senses were overwhelmed by the scent of Orpheus, manly and pungent but the only scent of sex Abaris had ever known. To him it was a powerful intoxicant.
“Eurydikos still has not taken to this activity. You shall have to teach him to love it as you do.”
Abaris hummed his agreement into Orpheus’ round, perfect, muscle.
Abaris licked the insides of Orpheus' chute until his, admittedly very strong, tongue muscle felt like it was about to exhaust itself; then Orpheus pulled him back up to his long, dripping, girth.
Orpheus took control this time, using Abaris' head like an extension of his arm. He directed Abaris’ head up and down his shaft like a wet sleeve, pleasuring himself with his slave’s mouth like he had so many times before. Although the scene before him was admittedly spectacular, in his mind, he was imagining young Eurydikos, the love of his life, and how much better it would be if it were his mouth in Abaris’ place.
Orpheus picked up his tempo, thrusting his hips up now to meet the down push of his hand on Abaris’ head. Despite years of training, Abaris still sputtered and gagged from the heavy use as Orpheus repeatedly slammed himself all the way into Abaris throat and then pulled himself all the way out.
Orpheus pulled his cock out of Abaris mouth only briefly to give Abaris time to breathe, slapping his substantial member on his slave’s face when he did. He would then thrust back into the young man’s face, his hips snapping and pounding more aggressively with each assault.
Finally, with a triumphant roar, Orpheus let loose his royal seed, sending his voluminous load splashing down Abaris’ throat like the torrents of Mount Helikon. Abaris swallowed with the years of practice allowing him to handle both the size of Orpheus load and the taste.
When Orpheus disentangled himself from Abaris, both men were sweaty and disheveled.
“I can’t see my father like this,” Orpheus laughed.
Abaris joined in the laughter.
“I shall clean and dress you, Master.”
Abaris fetched the necessary tools, then returned to the bed chambers. Orpheus was already nude by the time he returned.
Abaris started right away. The oil went on warm, worked into Orpheus’ skin by his hands until it loosened the dirt and sweat. Then came the strigil. Abaris scraped it slowly down Orpheus’ arms, across his back, along his nape and his buttocks pulling everything away in clean strokes. Water hit his shoulders after that, poured from a bronze jug, hot enough to make his whole body twitch. Then Abaris repeated the process for the other side.
When he was done, Orpheus went to lie back on his bed, refreshed from the intimate ritual, while Abaris selected clothes appropriate for the major announcement. He returned a few moments later with a pale linen chiton held tight at the shoulder with elaborate golden pins. To be worn over it, Abaris had selected a deep red, woolen Himation to be worn with one shoulder exposed. A woven gold belt pulled it all together at the waist and the signet ring Orpheus’ father had given him would complete the look.
Abaris helped Orpheus style his hair from the controlled chaos he normally sported, into something that looked truly princely and set him in front of a pool of water to see his reflection.
“You look marvelous, Master,” Abaris said.
“As always, you make me look excellent, Abaris,” Orpheus replied. “Now, let’s go see my father, the King!”
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