Raided by the Roman Servant

“Then it’s settled—the vote passes.”

Murmurs echo through the chamber while my eyes wander. It’s another day in the Roman Senate…another day of debate and legislation. Being a senator is a role that commands immense respect, but most don’t appreciate how monotonous it really is. Public order, taxation, commerce, land distribution…the subjects we handle can get awfully dry.

There’s an upside though—the parties.

As members of the upper class, we patricians are blessed with abundant leisure time. Legendary banquets are like a competitive sport. Each noble tries to outdo the next, putting on ever more extravagant displays of power. Exotic foods like peacock tongue…fully nude waiters…entertainment from faraway lands…

Bacchus, the god of wine and revelry, would be proud.

And I’ll be attending one of these events soon. My closest friend, Maximus, is hosting a party he swears will make even the gods jealous.

On this warm summer afternoon, that’s where my mind wanders. I’d rather be there than in the senate hall…

“That’s the final order of business for today. The meeting is adjourned.”

“Finally,” I mutter while rising to my feet.

The senate hall is a grand, magnificent chamber that stands as a testament to Roman dominance. Soaring columns of marble line the space, supporting the heavy ceiling. Parallel rows of seats sit on both sides of the hall, providing ample space for orators to stand and address the crowd. Detailed frescoes are painted along the walls, depicting historic scenes of valor and triumph.

“Quintus!” a voice calls out as I move toward the exit.

I turn to see Maximus racing toward me, his toga billowing with each step. He’s a tall man with short black hair, green eyes, and a prominent, hooked nose. His face is sharp and masculine, but his body is slender and pampered. Adorning his frame is a toga with a broad purple stripe, maroon sandals, and an iron ring—garb typical of senators.

“What is it?” I smile and pat him on the back.

“I’ve settled on a date for the banquet. It’ll be two weeks from today. I hope you’ll be able to make it.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Amazing. I’m planning something special—a type of entertainment that will make everyone’s jaw drop. It’ll be dirty. It’ll be scandalous. All of Rome will be talking about it.”

“Oh really?” I raise an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“You’ll have to wait and find out.” A wicked grin stretches across his face.

We exit into the streets. The setting sun casts lines of pink and gold across the sky, reflecting an orange glow onto the buildings below. People bustle about, chatting and laughing. Men clad in fine, bright white togas pass by, attended to by teams of servants clad in brown tunics. In this city, some men are citizens, while others are property. It’s the natural way of things. Some are born to serve, while others are born to lead.

The sight reminds me—I have a new servant.

He should have arrived at my estate earlier today. A lowborn lad from Greece, he’s a newcomer to this world. As I understand it, his village was raided during a recent conflict, and he was carted back here to Rome. I’ll be enlisting him as a personal assistant—he should feel honored to serve a senator.

It doesn’t take long to arrive at my estate. A low stone wall encircles the property, broken only by an iron gate at the front. Servants tend to flowers behind the wall, ensuring the grounds are flawlessly manicured. My sandals clap against the stone pathway as I move toward the house. It’s a bright white structure supported by soaring stone pillars. Decorative motifs are carved into the exterior, drawing my eyes toward the towering double doors.

“Welcome home, sir.” A servant stands at the entrance and ushers me into the grand atrium.

The space is elegant and airy. An overhead window allows light to spill onto the marble tiles below. Statues of the gods line the circular room, their eyes seeming to follow as I step past.

“Where’s the new boy?” I ask.

“He’s waiting in your bedchamber.”

“Perfect.” I wave to dismiss the servant.

Torchlight flickers as I move down the wide hallways. I’m tired and I need a bath. I’ll break this new attendant in—he’d better not displease me.

I throw open the door to my bedchamber, scanning the scene within. At the far end stands a grand bed with purple, sumptuous blankets and pillows. Crimson walls line the space, broken at regular intervals by windows overlooking the estate. Thin white curtains billow from the wind outside, lending a tranquil atmosphere to the room. In the far corner, a private study stands near a balcony. Shelves lined with papyrus scrolls and valuable manuscripts stretch up to the ceiling.

But directly in front of me, kneeling on the floor with his eyes lowered is my newest asset.

I step forward and grip his chin, forcing him to look up at me.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Alexander, m’lord.”

I gaze down into his light blue eyes. His blond hair and tan skin shimmer in the dim lighting. A dusting of stubble coats his sharp, masculine chin. His high cheekbones, pointed nose, and strong jawline give him a powerful appearance. It feels almost strange to see a young bull like this on his knees.

“Rise,” I command.

He obeys without hesitation.

“Undress me.” I turn and allow him to remove the heavy fabric of my toga.

His frame looms over me—he makes me feel small. I steal a glimpse at his physique. Through his brown tunic, I can make out an unmistakably powerful figure. His dense, rounded shoulders give way to meaty lats that bulge from the fabric. His belt highlights the extreme narrowness of his waist. His calves and thighs are exposed, and they remind me of the stone columns outside my house.

His hands look soft though…this man isn’t a common laborer.

“Tell me about your background, Alexander.” I smile, trying to project a friendly demeanor.