The boy returns to his quarters, feeling more than a little drained from his strange encounter. But deep within him lies also a curious satisfaction. He rests his head atop a lumpen pillow and drifts into sleep…
It is barely daybreak when he awakens to a start. A kick sends jolting pain into his ribs. Grabbing his side as he regains his senses, he looks up to find his taskmaster staring back at him, his eyes bloodshot with anger.
“For fuck’s sake, why is the horse not ready?! Do you think this a charity, stable boy? You’re better off sold to the whorehouse if you like sleeping this much!”
He readies himself for a second wallop. This time he is aiming for the crotch.
“Enough.”
The young man behind the door is no older than the stablehand. But dressed in his dark velvety coat, he cuts a commanding figure.
“You should do well to learn the value of compassion. Yours is not the way of our household.”
“Y-Yes..,of course,” replies the beastly tyrant. A defiantly ugly smile betrays his feigned humility.
As the princely figure inches towards the him, the grimacing boy is silently transfixed. Pale skin on a lanky frame, and piercing cold eyes; in his black ensemble he would be threatening if not for the kindness in his voice.
“Let me help you up, my friend. You do not mind being my friend, I hope?”
The boy finds himself red in the face, flushed from embarrassment and desire.
