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Bed of a Slave	By : Shiroma Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4060 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Bed of a Slave
- 1
Bed of a Slave
By Shiroma

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!

My name is unimportant, and the reason to my existence is irrelevant to this story, only what I am in HIS eyes. The story I�m telling started off back when I was five, a childish-like slave, to tiny to do real work, so sent toward the prince�s chambers to be a �play-mate�. Oh how innocent I had been.
That day, I walked, smiling, into the princes room, and greeted the seven year old, who was playing with golden blocks upon the ground. His fiery red eyes stared into my soft ones, and I wanted to melt, no idea what that feeling of lust inside me was, the yearning to be around him more often.
I sat on the floor next to him, and introduced myself as a slave. He had turned to me with fiery passion, and said that we were friends. Then, once he made that ordered (to which I agreed, whatever made my master happy I did), he summoned another slave to fetch something to eat, and a wink of an eye told the slave what he wanted.
That very slave is my friend today, a strong blond with such pretty honey eyes. That boy now belongs to the priest, but that doesn�t cut our connections, as you will surely find out.
In the matter of seconds, the young boy returned with a platter of grapes, the finest I have ever seen (could I say that, for I have never seen a grape, a prune, but not a grape). He touched my lips with the soft fruit, guiding it in my mouth.
�Eat.� He smiled. �You look famished.� I stared up to him, tilting my head to a side. My vocabulary, at the time, was not that good. The word �famished� was different on my tongue, never did he tell me that it meant �hunger�, but why do they not just say that instead of these big words?
Letting it enter my mouth, I felt his smooth skin touch my tongue, the fruit that I sucked on allowed many assorted juices trailed down my throat, soaking up the sore spots where I had been beat.
�Mm.� The prince whispered, and I gasped as his finger went deeper in my mouth, tears swelled in my eyes. �So warm, and unique.� He chuckled, a sound a child had never said to me. He pushed his finger further in my mouth, and I sucked on it, only guessing that is what my prince wanted.
�Atemu! I know slaves are nothing, but have some decency!� A loud bellow cried, and I fell back, as well as my prince, staring up at his father with a smile.
�I apologize my father, the pharaoh.� He whispered, standing up and waiting for his pharaoh to continue. The pharaoh stared at me, smirking in triumph his eyes clouded as he stared me over.
�Slave, go to my chambers, I must teach you your rank in life.�
Nodding, I ran off, the prince�s eyes still on me. As the door weeds fell against the air, I heard from inside as the two spoke.
�Father, my pharaoh, can I keep the slave?�
�Not until he is broken in.� The pharaoh snorted and walked away. I ran off, towards his room on the other side of the palace, waiting for whatever beatings for whatever disobedience I deserve.
It was an hour before the pharaoh came to his chambers, and I stood on my tired legs and stared at him. �Lie on the bed.� He pointed, and I blinked. Was it bedtime, I had thought that moment.
Being the good slave that I am, I had climbed into bed and stared up at him, and he smiles at me. �Good slave.� He chuckled, and I smiled at the compliment.
R� I wish I could go back and fix all that just this instant. Never lie on that bed, never suffer from that pain he put me in. What he did was horrible!
The minute he got my companionship and respect, he crotched over me, holding my chin in his rough hands. Ne�er had I seen such coarse skin, it showed no smoothness that his sons did. He pressed his lips to mine, and my eyes grew wide.
Did I scream? Could I scream? No. He was my pharaoh, which would be death to not enjoy whatever a noble of his status gave me. Which, he gave me something I did not want, and took something I needed, purity.
He stole it! Trashed in me as I mewed under him, my eyes fogged with tears, my rear in pain and bleeding. He pushed so deep inside me that I felt I would tear in two, but I bit my lip.
Finally, as he filled me, he glared down at my silent, pouting, self. His face brightened with success, and pressed his lips against mine. �Go to my son, he wants a good fuck, you are ready, a man not a child. Go, do as he pleases, and don�t complain.� He pushed me out of his door, and my back gave out. My body laid there until a guard drug me towards my chambers, a small living quarter with eighteen other slaves, and tossed me in there to dry.
Age five, and ruined, the prince still wanted me, though. He would sit close to me, and I would allow it. When his father or council was not present, he would press into his mouth against mine, or shove his fingers in my mouth and run it over my oral cavity. Ne�er did I figure why he did such a thing, nor did I ask.
This went on for years, in our teens, he would have me lie on my stomach, and rear in the air, just for him to examine me. Then in his early twenties, he would slap my rear when he could (Once he slapped my front end, that hurt like the water chaos that our world first started with).
At age twenty-five, I watched him wed, and have two children, in one batch, at his next birthday. His wife, if one would call her that she slept with many of the guards, died the next day, and his gaze fell to me again.
A week after her death, still to early for �recollection�[1] period but he paid no mind; he came to my chambers (I had been moved from the crowded rooms four years before to my own room just a few doors from his room), and smiled upon me.
I pulled my silk cover down a bit, and smiled to him, and his finger ran up my bare skin[2]. I moaned under his touch, and lifted my hips against his, and he smiled at that action.
�You are finally ready, slave.� He smiled, touching my lips, and I participated in that kiss.
�No, my pharaoh, I�ve been ready since the reign of your father.� I stared up, my face gave no smile, and he paid no mind to this.

He leaned over me, staring down upon my body with a smile, his fingers running through my hair that was so similar to his, and touched my always-hardened nipples with his warm mouth.
�Nay, that is not what I meant.� He smiled, and I cocked my head. Not what he meant? But his father taught me how to have this �sex� with another man. �Each time that I touched you, watched you react to them, you shown me you�re ready for this.� He smiled and removed his elegant robe.
I stared down upon his large manhood that was already weeping with need, and my legs spread. He didn�t tease me, as his fingers had done so much, but went straight to the full effect of intercourse. It does not matter foreplay is for the loved.
His smooth erection felt much better then his father, where the ex-pharaoh was rough and ridged all the time, the son was comforting. Moaning, I moved a bit. Sure I had been in pain, but I am a slave, confined to tolerate such actions, and pitiless notions that these superiors shall torture me with.
My frame isn�t made really for this much abuse, but I cry as he presses into that damn spot deep inside me. Waiting for him to continue his movement, I stared into his eyes, knowing how to make him mad. How am I to deny that I like this type of stuff hard and punishable, the pain only makes me harden?
�Atemu.� I whisper, my heart floating with knowledge to what I had just done was illegal in our law. I believe it was the top one, to never call the pharaoh by his name, oh such disrespect I had said. He didn�t seem to mind, oh son of Atem, no he only smiled down upon me, his face lowering towards my ear.
�Say my name, little one.� He licked the canal, entering the inner ear, and I shuddered at the feeling.
�Ah-ah-ATEMU!� I moaned, and he repeated that process. Oh curse my ear for being the sensitive spot of my body.
Did it help that his hard-on continued to slam inside of me, hitting that nerve that made me groan, and toss back and forth. Hah, what do you think, ever since that first time with my ex-pharaoh, that I had become frail? Nay, I�ve had many partners, I am what many call �a bed slave� or what other slaves call �the slut�. The priest says it is because the beauty that I hold so much that the pharaoh holds. Where fucking the pharaoh would be treason without his consent, I am close to doing that very thing.
My hands roam behind his neck, pushing his face closer to mine and I cannot help but lightly kiss his lips. I am submissive, not dominate, if he wants to deepen the kiss, the he shall start off it.
And so, he does. His tongue roams in my mouth, touching the back of my throat, coming up towards the roof of my mouth, then sucks on my tongues. For each action he takes, I buck my hips against his swollen hardness, hoping he�d pound me into that flimsy mattress.
�P-please.� I whisper, moving my head from his hold, and he agrees, pounding in me like no lover has ever done. Oh R�, I wouldn�t be surprised if those bones were bruised.
Arms leaving his side, I gripped my burning manhood and squeezed it, my fingers running up my tip.
Atemu watched, smiling as he pushed into me, his own hands on the side of my head. Suddenly, with a loud cry, I came, my eyes shutting, my body shuttering. Atemu must have seen, because I heard him moan, and whisper in my ear that I was the prettiest thing he�d seen during a release.
Staring up, I blinked, and shuddered as I felt him fill my used passage. My body seemed to accept him quickly, and I gripped his shoulders and pulled him close, our bodies moving at the same pulse together.
�Slave.� He tilted my head towards his, and I smiled innocently at him. �What is your given name?� He asked, and I took a second, the longest second of my life.
�My parents gave me a name, that my grandfather always used. It is�� I whispered to him what it was�
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Opening up his amethyst eyes, Yugi sat up in bed, panting slightly. That same dream, every time he was to learn who this �slave�s� name was, he�d awaken.
The fresh image of Atemu was fresh in his mind, then the slave. They looked so much like him, but he didn�t believe in past life, well sort of didn�t. Staring towards the puzzle, its many pieces scattered over his desk, Yugi took in a deep breath.
The minute he finished that puzzle, and could ask for whatever he wanted, he was going to get a friend! Closing his eyes, he growled, �Or a friend to deal with these damned erections of mine!� He groaned and lied back down upon his pillow.
Over in the corners, around his very desk, deep inside each puzzle piece, a spirit had the same dreams, and hoped that one day, he�d see his slave once more.
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Don�t flame me! It�s my first try! Ne�er say I can�t write!
For those who don�t understand a few things, �ne�er� means �NEVER�, �Nay� means �NO� and �E�er� means �EVER�
[1]- The time where a widower or widow would recollect thoughts over their dead spouse, most was only two weeks. However, after that a male could remarry, but most widows jumped into their husbands� cremation or could ne�er marry again.
[2]- Slaves don�t wear clothes in Egypt. It was those like nobles, knights, priest, extra who wore clothes. Slaves could not, it was said to be �a waste of time� for they�d only get dirty again. Slaves in the palace also wore no clothes for the same reason.
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Bed of a Slave