Going on Living Part 1

Ch.7

I pried my eyes open, the heavy vestiges of sleep making it difficult. Disbelief flooded my being as it often did upon waking: I cannot fathom how long it has been since my life turned upside down.

In a few short months, it will have been seven years since I've seen my mother. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago: back when I was happy despite being confined to such a small living space. There is nothing I would not give to go back to that time. To feel the comfort of my mother's arms once again. To feel loved.

I shook my head to dislodge the nostalgia. Such thoughts would not help me nor my situation. Not today. I sat up on my cot as the sun began to disappear below the horizon, casting sharp shadows against cinderblock walls as deep orange light poured through the bars of my lone, diminutive window.

I'd called this sad, cold room for the past seven years. The bare room hardly seemed fit for the cleaning supplies it used to house, let alone a human being; but slaves take what they are given without complaint. Or so I'm told.

I almost laughed to myself as I remembered my first night spent in such abysmal conditions. Not yet eight years old, the scrawny little thing I used to be was thrown in here like a sack of discarded waste. Even till now I cannot recall ever being so miserable in my life.

Seven years ago…

Pete trudged through the halls still carrying the boy under his arm. He could not fathom how he got stuck taking the brat to his new master. Pete was not in charge of the castle slaves; this should not be his duty.

The pipsqueak had yet to emit a single sound since the death of his mother. If Pete possessed anything resembling a heart, he might have felt sorry for the boy.

Pete pounded on Lexaeus's door, hoping the man was inside. Otherwise, Pete wasn't sure what he would do with the runt. He supposed he would have to wait there until Lexaeus returned. Pete grumbled; that certainly was not how he wished to spend his evening.

Luckily for Pete, the man was there.

"Pete," he answered clearly annoyed, "what brings you here?"

"The King ordered me to bring you this little bastard," he motioned to the almost lifeless form under his arm. "Said you would know what to do with 'im."

Lexaeus nodded his understanding, then motioned for Pete to follow him with the boy. "Unfortunately, the instructions did not arrive until late this afternoon, so I did not have time to prepare anything. Not that it matters much; the King made it quite clear that he expected less than acceptable accommodations for the young man."

"So, you know what the King intends for the bugger then?" the more sadistic side of Pete inquired.

"The message I received instructed me to place him in a room near to the harem. As supervisor for the castle slaves, Xigbar is technically in charge of the boy, but he reports to the noble ladies of the harem first and foremost. He is to assist their servants until he reaches manhood. At that time, the boy is to join the ladies of the harem in their services," Lexaeus answered with nare an emotion.

Pete laughed and jostled his burden, "You hear that, kid? Gonna be a whore just like mommy dear."

"I do not think the noble ladies of the harem will take kindly to having a slave among their ranks," Lexaeus mused.

"Probably not, but who cares? It won't be our problem," Pete exclaimed with far too much exuberance for Lexaeus's opinion.

"This is what I was able to procure for him," Lexaeus stopped in front of a nondescript wooden door at the start of the "harem's hallway". Once the door was unlocked, Pete could see that it was, in fact, a storage room. At present, the hovel housed cleaning supplies, fresh linens, sewing materials, and other things of that nature.

A shelving unit stood on either wall leaving only about a three-foot gap in between them: a space that was primarily occupied by boxes. A small window was situated behind the shelves on the left wall. Considering the three deep steps leading into the submerged room, it was understandable that the high, barred opening let out onto ground level rather than at a standard window level. What could be seen through the bars offered a view of the knights' training grounds.

Despite a drain in the floor, the rain pouring in the gap in the wall caused a good two-inch puddle of water to form on the stone floor. All-in-all, it was not an ideal living situation for anyone.

Lexaeus sighed, "I feared this would happen given the weather today. Well, no matter. I can get Xigbar to send some slaves along tomorrow to assist him in clearing out all of this stuff and putting a proper bed here. Perhaps that will make the space a bit more livable."

"I say leave it like it is; the brat deserves it," Pete flung the boy into the accumulated water on the floor without remorse, and turned to leave. The door slammed shut behind the two as they argued about how inhumane this room was, all the while forgetting that the poor soul having to live there was an innocent and incredibly young boy.

I was just skin and bone then, too. I squeezed my arm and decided that perhaps not much had changed. I was definitely taller, though not by any significant amount. I could now stare out my window without having to stand on an overturned bucket, but most would still consider me short for my age.

I smiled just a bit as I remembered my second morning in this hovel. During the day, two slaves helped me move everything as promised. Given, they made me do most of the work, but I suppose it was good preparation for my future days as a slave. Lexaeus procured a cot, a blanket, and a bucket for me to furnish my "room" with. I appreciated his kindness, but I doubted I would see any more of the man. After all, he was the head of the castle servants, and I was only a slave.

That first morning, I rose with the sun. I still hadn't gotten to properly stare at it (something I soon learned was ill-advised), and wanted a good look at the thing I'd only ever heard stories about. Staring out across the field as the sun begins to rise is still perhaps my favorite sight in this entire world.

I only wished I was able to share the experience with my mother.

My mother. I shook my head, running my fingers through my hair. What would she think of me? Would she be proud that I've endured without her? Would she be angry that I would rather take a beating than give in to their shit?

I sighed, wishing once again that I could see her: that I could hug her and talk to her. It would have been nice to have her support for the last few years. My first months working here in the castle were particularly rough.

Since all the ladies in the King's harem are of noble birth (second and third daughters of Dukes, Lords, Counts, Earls, etc.), it was expected for them to be well taken care of. This meant that each lady had a personal attendant who stayed with her at all times while a team of castle servants ran around doing everything the attendants told them needed to be done: fetching food, doing laundry, cleaning chamber pots, stoking fires, everything.

The problem though was that they were all servants. Meaning every single lady working in this hallway was here by choice, and paid for their work: i.e. of a higher station than me. Outranking me meant they could command me to do any task so long as it didn't conflict with a task given to me by someone superior to them.

Anything the attendants and servants didn't want to do was assigned to me.

Oh, the fun stories I could tell. Especially since I didn't have a single skill when I arrived here. It's kind of hard to learn how to do things when you constantly have to hide underneath the floorboards.

I sighed to myself. I didn't need to worry about any of that at this particular moment. I had new concerns now.

I always knew this day would come, although I almost hoped I would die before then. It is mid-August. Today is my birthday.

According to the law set out by some King long ago, a boy becomes a man on his 15th birthday. Traditionally it would mean his first hunt, although more recently I hear the occasion tends to involve drinking unhealthy amounts of mead.

According to that same law, this is the day the current King is allowed to officially claim me as part of the harem.

I flopped back down on my cot as panic rose from the pit of my stomach up into the back of my throat, choking off my air. I wished beyond hope that I could do something, anything to escape what I knew would surely happen. I could almost picture it.

Ugh, not that I wanted to picture it. I dug my palms into my closed eyelids as I attempted to scrub the image out of my mind. Normal boys don't have to worry about crap like this on the day they enter manhood. I doubt anyone else in the world does!

When I was twelve, I asked one of the attendants what the harem did. At first she didn't answer me, not that anyone ever did, but after a moment she started to explain. She said that these women agreed to come live in the lap of luxury at the palace in exchange for pleasuring the King.

The one caveat though was that they had to undergo a process the attendant called castration (though she corrected herself by further explaining that term actually applied to males, and she wasn't sure what is was called for women). She said the whole purpose of the harem was to make sure the King received whatever pleasure he wished, but did not produce any offspring from the interactions. Therefore, only children conceived with his wife were legitimate heirs.

Of course, she went into a bit more detail about how children were created than my mother did when I was young. Honestly, I learned things that day that I didn't ever want to know about. But I guess it's better that I do know.

I decided that it was all nice and good so long as the women agree to everything. "Of course they agree!" She replied, "If they didn't, then it would be rape."

That word burrowed its way into my mind that day and has remained lodged there ever since. Rape. After asking a few more awkward questions through the years, I've come to realize that "rape" is most likely what is going to happen to me tonight.

I don't want to be in this harem. I don't want to pleasure the King. I don't care that other people think it's such a great honor and often bully me for not being thankful for the opportunity. I don't care.

All I wanted to do was climb into my bed, curl into a ball, and pretend like I'm not fifteen. Pretend this day never came. I'm not ready for this. I'm not a man, and I never will be.

After all, my mommy did always say that no matter how big I got, I would always be her little boy.

The door flew open, cracking against the wall. At the top of the stairs stood Lulu, the head attendant, looking more perturbed than usual. "Boy," she snapped, "time to join the lineup."

Hope you liked it! We're getting into some serious shit now.

This chapter is brought to you today from somewhere in Alabama. I am traveling to Orlando to go do the Disney College Program! It starts on Monday, so the next time I post will be from Walt Disney World. Wish me luck!

Reviews are always appreciated.

As Always,

Ali