Work Text:
Silviu trembled as the doors of the harem closed behind him. It was a terribly final sound.
He’d never envisioned becoming a concubine. As a lesser, orphaned cousin of a great noble house, he’d assumed he would be shuffled off to some minor functionary job or married off to a deserving ally of his uncle the baron. Silviu barely knew the man despite his many years living in his home (the baron was rarely in residence, and even more rarely thought to summon his pauper nephew for a conversation) but he was, after all, family.
But then the king had executed his foreign-born wife and their son, and the dead consort’s nephew Eskender had come to exact vengeance. With a new king on the throne, foreign and open to all alliances, the baron had scented opportunity.
He’d draped Silviu in finery and taken him to the court.
The outfit was shocking, at least to Silviu. Half a dozen gold chains hung over each of his shoulders, falling down to his waist where they met a thin gold belt set with rubies. From that belt hung an insubstantial skirt of sheer red fabric, embroidered with gold thread. The skirt was slit widely up each thigh- so widely that it was really more like two separate panels of fabric than one skirt- to display the lattice of gold chains and cuffs that wound up to his thighs. Thankfully, the whole shameful display was covered by a red-and-gold veil, this one actually opaque, that hung from an elaborate gold headdress and obscured him from his head down to his toes.
Silviu had bowed before the throne as his uncle offered him up, and King Eskender had accepted him without forcing him to strip in front of the court, as was traditional. Silviu was grateful for that.
His Majesty’s voice had been nice, too, deep and rough. His thick accent had been less strange than his refreshingly plainspoken choice of words.
“Of course you’re welcome in my harem, sweetheart,” said the king. He sounded tired, but not unkind. “It’s nice to meet you. We’ll get the chance to talk more after the coronation, all right?”
And that was it. Guards took Silviu to the harem, and now here he was, shaking and terrified as a scowling older man strode toward him.
“I’m Gleb, overseer of the royal harem. Are you the gift from Baron Popa?” the man demanded.
Silviu straightened, remembering his manners. “Yes sir. I’m his nephew Silviu Popa, and-”
The slap was a shock. Silviu had never been struck before. He’d had no idea how much an open hand could sting. It was like the time he’d gotten a sunburn, but all at once and concentrated on his cheek. Even through the veil, it stung terribly.
“You’re no one, slave,” Gleb informed him cooly, his expression not even changing as Silviu reeled. “Whatever you were before, it’s over. You’re a slave in the royal palace now, and it’s my job to make sure you’re fit for the king’s bed. Follow me.”
Cowed and sniffling, Silviu obeyed. He was distantly shocked at himself- yes, he’d always been meek and submissive by nature, but was a single slap all it really took to subdue him so utterly? Didn’t he have more strength of character than that?
Apparently not. The blast of physical pain had been shocking and horrible, and he was willing to do anything to avoid incurring more.
The overseer led him to a fine marble room with a pool at the center. It was very beautiful, but Silviu was too focused on the man to pay it much attention.
“Strip,” Gleb commanded.
Silviu had been expecting that command in front of the whole court. He obeyed readily, removing first the veil and headdress, then his scanty outfit. Gleb took the expensive raiment and folded it carefully.
“You’ll wear this again when you first go to serve His Majesty,” the overseer informed him. “Until then, you wear what I give you, and if you don’t earn clothes, you’ll go naked. Understand?”
“Yes,” Silviu whispered.
“Yes, sir!” Gleb slapped him again, harder.
Silviu shrieked and crouched, cradling his throbbing cheek. His head was spinning, his body thrumming with terror. He wanted to escape, but it was impossible. There was nowhere to go. He was the property of the king now, and at the mercy of the overseer.
“Get up!” snapped Gleb. “Oh, I can already see that you’re going to be trouble. That was barely even a correction! Stop moaning! What, precious little rich boy’s never been hit before?”
“No,” Silviu sniffled. “I mean, no sir!”
“Not quite too stupid to learn,” sniffed the overseer. “Well, get used to it, whore. You’re a slave now, and slaves get beaten. Now it’s time for your inspection. Stand up straight, arms behind your back.”
“Yes, sir!” Silviu obeyed hurriedly.
He yelped with shock when Gleb hit him several times, right on his ass cheeks! It didn’t hurt as much as the slaps to his face, but the shock and humiliation made him tear up.
“Legs apart!” the overseer snapped. “What kind of slave do you think you are? When you present yourself for inspection, you need to make your holes accessible. They’re the only thing that matters about you, after all.”
Silviu’s face burned as he awkwardly opened his legs. Gleb just groaned in frustration.
“Wider, fuckslave! And don’t just let your arms dangle! Grip each by the forearm. And lift your chin. There! That’s almost an acceptable relaxed standing presentation pose.”
Relaxed? Silviu had never been less relaxed in his life!
“Now move your arms up! Lock your hands behind your head!” the overseer commanded. “This is an ordinary standing presentation pose. Hold it.”
Silviu did, and the older man got to work poking and prodding what seemed like every inch of his body.
He started with Silviu’s ass.
“Flat and flabby,” Gleb decreed. “I’ll be assigning you an exercise regimen to see if we can get some pleasing roundness there.”
Silviu gasped, shocked and humiliated, as the overseer casually parted his cheeks to examine his asshole.
“Decent color,” Gleb mused, prodding at it, “and tight. But what’s all this disgusting hair? You’ll be punished for that.”
A tear finally escaped and rolled down Silviu’s cheek. He didn’t want to be punished any more! How would he bear it?
Gleb grumbled over his skinny legs and knobby ankles, offered no comment about his flat stomach (Silviu was beginning to suspect that silence was a compliment), and glowered darkly at his nipples.
“Disgustingly dark,” Gleb pronounced. “Compared with the rest of your skin, they look like fucking scabs. And they need to be pierced. I’ll make the arrangements at once.”
He pinched a nipple so sharply that Silviu yelped. This earned him several stinging slaps to the face while Gleb twisted the nipple cruelly.
“Did I tell you you could make a sound, slut?” the overseer demanded furiously. “One more sound out of you and you’re going to get a real punishment. You’re lucky I’m feeling so nice today!”
Silviu tried to keep his tears quiet as the overseer took his dick in his hand and frowned at it.
“Unpierced and uncaged,” he said. “Absolutely disgraceful. I can’t believe the baron thought it was acceptable to offer such a half-formed fucktoy to His Majesty. Is he trying to insult the new king?”
Silviu opened his mouth to defend his family, but never got the words out because Gleb began spanking his cock and balls.
The pain was so sharp and horrible that he choked on it, saving himself from making a forbidden sound. It took over Silviu’s entire world, blotted out his mind. He’d always prided himself on his mind and ignored his body, but it turned out that physical pain was all it took to make the body mean everything and the mind turn into a little whimpering animal.
When Gleb let go of his genitals, Silviu hastily swallowed a sob of relief. He was crying silently, but so hard that he almost missed it when the man pointed to the stone floor.
“On your knees,” he commanded.
Silviu obeyed, sinking down with little care for his knees. They thudded hard against the marble, jarring him.
“Legs open!” Gleb snapped, kicking his knees roughly apart. “Display yourself! You’re a set of fuckholes, a walking masturbation toy! Fucking act like it!”
Silviu splayed himself as widely as he could, his punished genitals dangling obscenely. Gleb grunted, only barely appeased.
“You won’t be kneeling upright very often, unless His Majesty deigns to allow you to suck his cock or rim his hole,” the overseer said. “You’ll mostly grovel with your face down like the worm you are. But when you are allowed to kneel up, your hands belong either palm up on your knees, service kneel, or behind your back, presentation kneel. Show me.”
Silviu rushed into one position, then the other. He was rewarded by Gleb’s rough hand gripping his hair and shoving his face down on the cold, hard stone.
“That’s better,” growled the overseer. “That’s where trash like you belongs. Since it’s your natural fucking habitat, there’s a lot of ways for you to grovel. When you’re told to present your hole, you’ll reach back and spread your cheeks with your hands. Do it!”
Silviu had already been reaching for his ass, but the older man’s shout made him hurry. He yanked his cheeks apart until the tender skin burned.
“Arms outstretched in front of you!” barked the overseer. “That’s the worship position. You’ll bow like this every time you enter His Majesty’s presence, whether you’re going to him or he happens to walk into a room where you are. Now, hands folded in front of your head, one on top of the other! That’s the humble position. You’ll shift into this position when you’ve been in worship pose for a few moments and His Majesty hasn’t deigned to take notice of you. Hands next to your head! That’s the foot worship position. You’ll keep your hands out of the fucking way like that if you ever get lucky enough to kiss the king’s feet. Now flatten yourself! Arms outstretched, entire body on the ground! That’s penitence. That’s how you bow when you fuck up and displease His Majesty. It’s your best bet to survive such a misstep, so learn it well, fuckhole.”
Silviu was shaking so hard he could no longer be sure what were silent sobs and what were tremors. He felt like throwing up. Had the king’s kind-sounding voice misled him? Was this how the rest of his life would be, forever? He would die! This was unendurable!
“I’ve been real fucking nice, spending my valuable time teaching a disposable little comerag like you your slave manners,” Gleb mused. “You don’t want to know the penalty for wasting my time, whore. Worship position!”
Silviu hastily pressed his hands to the tile at the sides of his head. When Gleb chuckled, sounding pleased, he dared to hope he’d done well. He’d pleased this teacher the way he’d always pleased all his others, and Gleb would be kinder, and he would survive life in the harem.
“You brain-dead hole,” sneered the overseer. “That’s foot worship position. You weren’t listening. You were wasting my time.”
Silviu broke. He screamed and cried. He made outlandish babbling promises. He begged to go home, begged for mercy.
Mercy didn’t come. Gleb beat him until he stopped crying, stopped making any sound at all. He beat him until Silviu thanked him for it, cringing and utterly servile.
Then the overseer called in several large men. They held Silviu down while the overseer first shaved him of every hair below his lashes, then heated a special set of needles and drove them through his nipples, his earlobes, his navel, his cock and balls.
Dazed from the pain and terror, Silviu drifted in and out of consciousness. He barely heard Gleb’s farewell.
“Take him away. Any of the rooms will do. I just hope my soft treatment hasn’t made him expect similar leniency from His Majesty. Maybe I’ll have him watch the execution of the Untouched after the coronation. It’ll probably do this pampered brat good.”
The other men lifted Silviu to his feet, but all he could do was slide into soft, welcoming darkness.
He’d never feared anything like he feared King Eskender.