You seem a bit distracted tonight, my Pet, came the low, murmuring voice in Orpheus’s mind. He said nothing in reply, continuing instead to stare at the ornate canopy over King Poseidon’s bed. Perhaps, he thought cynically to himself, he should watch his friends be violently raped more often; his thoughts had been so full of rage that he’d been barely conscious of his own penetration, or any of the pain that went with it.
The King, however, seemed not quite as pleased by this as Orpheus was. His face drifted into Orpheus’s view as he leaned over the concubine, frowning down at him. I do not like the attention of my pets to be taken away from me, he murmured, his voice low and warning.
Orpheus’s eyes focused on the wickedly beautiful face above him, and a germ of an idea began to form within his thoughts. Of course, he thought back at the King, somewhat sullenly. After all, we are little more than your property, are we not?
The King smiled, one delicate eyebrow raised in surprise. This is true, although hardly an attitude I expected from you of all people.
Orpheus sat up, and a rather amused King sat back to watch him. I wish to make a request of you, said Orpheus.
My, my, aren’t we bold? came the mocking response. Very well. Speak then.
Orpheus clenched his teeth, angered as usual by the King’s haughty attitude. But he had nothing to lose by asking. Your guards, he said. They raped a friend of mine.
There was a short pause. And? prompted the King. What is your request? Are you upset they didn’t rape you instead?
‘I must not try to fight,’ Orpheus reminded himself while he waited for the red to recede from his vision. ‘It would not go well.’ If we are yours, he said slowly, stiffly, then you should protect us. Are you really satisfied with those animals touching your belongings? Shouldn’t they be punished? If you stop them, then your property would not be touched, and my friend would not be raped. We would both benefit.
The King laughed, head thrown back, the sound sharp and cold in Orpheus’s mind. You try to bargain with me! he said when he had himself under control once more, mirth still evident in his voice. You are a bold one. How should I benefit from my guards not enjoying themselves, hm? I have many concubines, and most of them I hardly use. The guards are the ones who escort you; they know which are most used and which they can borrow for their own pleasure.
Rage seemed to choke of Orpheus’s breath, and he stopped speaking, head turned roughly to the side. Again he reminded himself that he could not fight in this situation, that it would do him no good. The tritons were stronger than he was, faster, better equipped, and they outnumbered him vastly. Trying to fight would only make him look foolish. It would-
The King’s hand descended to his skin once more, tracing his collarbone with long, tapered fingers, and without thinking, Orpheus reached out and snagged the delicate wrist in a vice grip. The King looked surprised, the first look of honest emotion Orpheus had ever seen.
For a moment they stared at each other, caught in a stalemate, before Orpheus relaxed his hold and fell back against the bed. The King sat up, perched on Orpheus’s lap. With a flick of his powerful tail, he rose from the bed and moved over to a desk near the wall. You may go, he said coldly. The guard at the door will escort you back.
Uncertain, Orpheus sat up, his eyes on the fine line of King Poseidon’s spine as it deftly split his back and trailed down to his extravagant fins. They rustled restively, like gauzy, mottled flames dancing around him. It took Orpheus a moment to realize that the experience of being denied what he wanted must be a new one for him.
The King’s scales gleamed with quiet rage in the dim ambient light of his chamber. Silently, Orpheus made his way to the door and slipped past it into the corridor.
He awoke the next morning in the harem chamber to the sounds of frantic, buzzing whispers. Groggy, he sat up, wincing with a pain that was by now familiar. There seemed to be a good deal of activity within the chamber; groups of concubines huddled together, their faces close, whispering and gesturing in small, curt signals.
Orpheus wiped the sleep from his eyes and cast his gaze around for Yuushi. He found him eventually, seated on a ledge, head bent down to speak to a pair of men standing next to him. Orpheus swam over to them. They parted silently to make room for him in the circle to Yuushi’s right.
“What’s going on?” Orpheus whispered.
Yuushi shook his had. “No one’s sure. But something very strange is happening. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
As he said this, the door to the palace halls opened, and several guards filed in. Among them, Orpheus recognized Narcissus.
“What’s he doing here?” Yuushi hissed. “They’re not supposed to come into the room! He doesn’t do that! He doesn’t come into the room except for the Beast days! Why is he here?”
Orpheus looked at the smirking, predatory expression on the triton’s face, and knew that this encounter would not end well. The room had gone silent, as all the concubines turned to watch the guards. There were many of them; far more than were usually required to watch the harem. Orpheus counted at least a dozen, and they were still filing in.
Behind him, Orpheus felt Yuushi’s trembling hand against his shoulder. Through the touch he felt the way the slighter man’s body was shaking all over, the hesitancy in it. He could nearly taste the fear. It seemed strange to Orpheus; Yuushi had been here so long, surely he was resigned by now?
But no- “This isn’t the time,” Yuushi whispered against his neck, huddled behind him. “This is supposed to be the safe time. What are they doing here? Why are there so many of them?”
And then the door closed, with a hollow, ominous sound. Remember, he heard one of the guards say, try to keep it to the ones he doesn’t use.
Orpheus did his best to hide Yuushi behind him, but it was no use. The bulk of the guards went forth into the room like a swarm, while several hung back by the door, fully armed, to watch for trouble. Orpheus’s eyes darted about the room as everywhere he looked, concubines were snatched up, forced to the ground, and roughly entered. His gaze flickered from one obscene horror to the next – there a young man was on his stomach, with two guards looming over him, one with a penis in the young man’s ass, another raping his mouth – there, a guard with a fist full of blond hair, yanking a boy’s head back as he pressed the long shaft of a standard issue harpoon deep, deep into his anus – there, two guards floating with a concubine pressed between them, both of them stuffed into him side-by-side.
Yuushi was shaking behind his back, clinging to him like a frightened child. Orpheus wanted to comfort him, but he knew he could offer little; two guards approached from his left, and from his right came Narcissus.
“Stay away!” Orpheus warned, but the tritons did not seem to hear him. Stay away! he repeated with his mind, and the guards only smiled.
Narcissus reached behind him, arm extended towards Yuushi. Orpheus felt the slighter one cringing away.
“I said NO!” screamed Orpheus, and knocked away the arm that had grabbed hold of Yuushi’s wrist.
Why you- Narcissus’s face was full of fury, and he acted quickly, backhanding Orpheus across the face. Orpheus felt the corner of his mouth split, and begin to bleed. The blood seemed to free something in him, a deep rage that had been building for far too long and gone untapped.
He rushed at Narcissus, not at all concerned when he was easily subdued, pushed to the ground. He fought. He fought like a man possessed. He bit Narcissus’s arm, and felt a flush of brutally joyful pain blossom when Narcissus smacked him again, this time raking talon-like fingernails across his face. He kicked, scratched, punched until his wrists were restrained. Every elbow in his stomach, every bruise and cut he received felt like a victory.
He thrashed violently as Narcissus flipped him onto his stomach, holding his arms pinioned behind his back. He felt the long, tearing fingernails leave bloody tracks down his back, and when it came, the sharp, spearing sensation of penetration, it was triumphant.
Still Orpheus fought. He howled something from deep inside, a noise too dangerous for words to approach as Narcissus’s hips battered him, forcing the triton's cock over and over again into Orpheus. He felt his blood billowing, tasted it in the water.
Orpheus turned his head to the side with a snarl, then stopped, his attention arrested elsewhere for a moment.
Yuushi.
The other two guards had gotten him, while Orpheus been distracted with Narcissus. Orpheus’s struggles ceased as he witnessed one of them holding Yuushi’s head steady while member slid in and out of the young man’s mouth. Behind him, the second guard claimed his ass, working at it with eager, steady thrusts.
Narcissus, caught up in a blood passion and aware only that his prey had stopped struggling, gave a particularly powerful thrust and yanked sharply on Orpheus’s hair to remind him that he was being ridden. Orpheus growled, his attention returned, and the fight continued. He was reasonably positive by this point that Narcissus had ripped him, and far worse than he’d been ripped before. He began to wonder if he might die in this frightening, hellish orgy. Perhaps he would be cut, torn, ripped in so many places that he would bleed out into the water, and end this miserable fate.
But he couldn’t stop fighting. He was physically unable. Some instinct, strong, insistent, victorious, told his brain that he’d been right this time. This time he could fight, for all the times he’d been unable. It might be just as futile, perhaps even far more painful, but now was the time to do it.
It lasted far longer than it should have. Only Narcissus touched him, but it was enough. Even long after the triton had spilled his seed into Orpheus, the rapes continued. The prince was too weak by this point to fight them, to do anything more than float there, his body seized and wracked with pain as the concubines were one by one claimed, subdued, penetrated, beaten, ravaged, ravished by the guards.
When it was finally over, there were few that hadn’t been touched; only the most popular of the King’s concubines, except Orpheus, were unscathed. These few went around with healing salves and gentle, crying fingers. Their voices soothed and healed as much as their medicine, as they helped the broken ones to sleep, and the strong ones to weep.
Orpheus refused their care. With an impatient hand he waved away any healing or dulling of pain when it was presented to him. His body was on fire, every nerve end screaming at him, clamoring in his mind, but it was drowned out by the constant roar of triumph in his ears. He lay on his stomach, his breathing labored, and watched as the fallen were cared for. It looked like nothing so much as a battle, he thought to himself. Like the wars he’d seen his father in from, like the few he’d been in himself before he’d made the mistake of trying to slay Galileo’s Beast.
Yuushi appeared in his vision, crawling, nearly unconscious. He’d been treated already, but his wounds were still obviously paining him. Still, he offered the jar of salve he carried to Orpheus.
“Orpheus? Are you alright? Come on, use some of this. You’ve lost a lot of blood. It could be dangerous if you don’t try to heal up some of your cuts now.”
Orpheus shook his head. “No. Leave it. I need to stay this way.”
Yuushi looked confused, and reached out a concerned hand, placing it lightly on Orpheus’s arm. Then, as Orpheus watched, he slowly collapsed into unconsciousness right there, his head slumping to the ground, contact still unbroken.
Orpheus reached out and placed his own hand atop Yuushi’s, a small effort that nevertheless caused him quite a bit of pain. “It’s alright,” he whispered to the sleeping man. “I’ll make this right, I promise you. I’ll make it right.”
You there.
Orpheus woke with a start, unaware that he had fallen asleep. When he tried to sit up, his muscles wailed in such pain that he was forced to stop, arrested mid-motion, a loud groan seeping out of him. The blood had congealed on him despite the surrounding water, stiffening his skin over already stiff joints. He could barely stand, and thanked God for the buoyancy of the water, without which he would never have been able to swim pathetically, limpingly over to the guard.
The triton, not one he recognized from the afternoon, looked at him with wide, almost frightened eyes. Orpheus smiled coldly at him. Well? he asked the guard venomously, Shall we go? He was glad the mermen could hear his mind, because he was quite certain that his voice was too sore, his throat constricted in pain, for him to speak out loud.
Uncertainly, the guard grasped his arm and swam with him to the King’s chamber. He kept sneaking glances back at Orpheus, so the prince guessed he must look quite fearsome indeed. Good.
When he reached the door, the guard knocked softly, as though hesitant to announce his own presence.
Send him in, came the familiar low voice from inside.
When Orpheus was shoved unceremoniously into the room, the door closing behind him, the King was seated at his desk, facing away from the concubine. When he turned to view Orpheus however, his eyes widened.
What is the meaning of this? His voice was dark and angry.
Unable to support himself on his own feet anymore, even with the help of the water, Orpheus collapsed down onto his knees. He felt weak, and wondered if he was still bleeding, and exactly how much blood he had lost. But the confusion and – yes, yes! fear – in the King’s eyes made his heart swell. He had accomplished his intention then.
Orpheus slid to the ground, one side of his face pressed against the cool rock. He looked up at the King through a single condemning eye.
What do you mean? he asked. This is what you ordered, isn’t it?
The King shook his head. No. They were not to touch my favorites.
I guess- Orpheus was forced to pause for a moment, because his chest was shaking with silent laughter and it was so painful that it took his breath away. Perhaps he had broken a rib. I guess your guards don’t listen to you quite as well as you think they do. I told you. He forced himself to take deep breaths; his vision was beginning to swim slightly. I told you they were animals. You let them do whatever they want to us; this is what happens. I got off lightly. There were some far more injured, some who can’t walk at all today, even though they were healed. Some who might not be able to walk for weeks, or months.
The King reached down and grabbed his neck, hauling him to his feet so quick that Orpheus became nauseous. He wondered if he would throw up on the King. Or perhaps faint. Neither seemed particularly appetizing, so he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing until the dizziness stopped.
The King said nothing, but dragged Orpheus over to the bed, throwing him down onto his stomach on the soft moss that covered it. Orpheus tried to raise himself onto his elbows, but discovered that he lacked the strength in his arms. His shoulder buckled, and he fell back to the bed.
He hissed suddenly as he felt something very cold touch his skin, and then realized with a start that the King was spreading healing salve onto the cuts on his back.
You are mine, said the King. You will take care of you wounds because you are mine, and I want my possessions in the best condition. I will caution the guards against violence – but do not mistake my whims for compassion! I simply do not want my possessions tampered with.
Orpheus flinched as the King’s fingers traveled over his sore, battered flesh. The King was not careful in his ministrations, applying the salve as though he were trying to scrub some stain from Orpheus’s body. A whimper even managed to escape Orpheus’s clenched teeth as the fingers pulled at the long scratches that covered his back.
Orpheus breathed deeply as the hands massaged the salve into his buttocks. They left him for a moment while the King added another generous dollop to the tips of his fingers, and then suddenly four fingers at once were shoved into his anus. Orpheus cried out, unable to help himself, hating himself for showing weakness. But it was okay now, he reminded himself. He had gotten what he had come for, had assured safety for Yuushi. Such humiliation was a small price to pay for that.
The fingers spread the salve liberally inside him, exiting and returning several times for a fresh amount to smear around. The walls of Orpheus’s passage were stretched wide, causing old wounds to stretch as well, but the salve was spread quickly, before they could reopen and beginning bleeding again.
The salve was a miraculous thing, Orpheus thought with a wince as the King shoved his hand into Orpheus’s passage once more. The smell was sharp and pungent, reminding him slightly of the taste of mint. It relaxed and eased muscles, promoted the healing of wounds, and dulled pain. He didn’t know how the tritons made it, but it was very potent.
The King finally finished with Orpheus’s anus, and touched up the last few wounds on Orpheus’s backside. Then, without ceremony, he flipped Orpheus over and went to work on his chest. As he came in view of the King’s expression, Orpheus was a bit taken aback by the sheer rage he saw in the triton’s face, so much so that he attempted to sit up, but the King placed a firm hand on his chest and pushed him back down against the bed.
Uncertain, Orpheus continued to lie still and allow the King to tend his wounds. He was not certain what the King was so angry about, but it did not bode well. The only question was where his punishment would fall, with the guards or with the slaves.
The King continued his ministrations, covering all the scratches, scrapes, sores and bruises in an efficient, business-like manner. When he was finished, he screwed the top back on the jar of salve in a deceptively calm manner and swam off towards his desk, where he replaced it in a drawer.
Go, he said, without turning around. Enough. Leave.
But... said Orpheus uncertainly. Even in his current state, he had not expected to be able to leave without allowing the King to have his way with his body. It made him nervous not to, wondering what the King was thinking.
You’re in no condition to do anything, said the King. I find no delight in pain that I am not causing. Get out.
With a mental shrug, Orpheus opened the door, prepared to leave. As he did, another thought from the King stopped him.
Orpheus?
Yes? Orpheus’s hand stilled on the door as he looked over to the taut, tense back of the King.
If you do anything like this again, I will kill you. And torture those “friends” of yours.
Feeling suddenly cold, Orpheus slipped out into the hall without another word.