Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

From a legal point of view, the slave as a person did not exist; in all respects it was equated with a thing, placed on a par with land, horses, bulls («servi pro nullis habentur» - the Romans said). The Law of Aquilia makes no difference between wounding a domestic animal and a slave.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….
Exegol

«Cornelia, calm down! Cornelia!» Rose gave a pretentiously demonstrative wince, and then waved off her running, squeaking daughter.

“Kids. Oh, those kids”, she said and rolled her eyes, her voice was full of maternal smugness. She wasn’t annoyed that her three daughters and two sons were so unimaginably loud. Rather, she was proud of her offsprings.

But it annoyed Rey who drank bergamot tea while trying to hide her emotion. “Kids,” she thought with a completely different intonation. Without an ounce of pompousness or delight. Kids made her nervous. Both as sources of uncontrollable noise and as a topic in principle. Before she had time to think Rose, holding her youngest child in her arms, brought up the same topic as everyone else.

“You get tired of them sometimes, but they are the happiest thing of all. And when will you bestow your master, eh?”.

“I have no master,” Rey replied sharply. She was infuriated not only by the lack of greenery on this stone planet, but also by this strange attitude toward wives. She was not owned by Snoke. She wasn't bought on the slave black market. Her husband had been begging the almighty Palpatine for three years for advantageous marriage until a year ago when her grandfather gave his consent to marry his only granddaughter.

Rey wasn't exactly thrilled, but Snoke suited her just fine. He treated her respectfully enough, and from the outside he even seemed like a loving spouse, perhaps. Except that the subject of children was always coming up. From her grandfather, longing for an heir to his slave empire. From Snoke who married her to strengthen his right to the throne with the help of a couple of children for one, albeit a rich planet, was not enough for him. From a few... not friends, no. Rather just forced acquaintances who had already gifted their, damn it, “masters” with numerous heirs.

She didn't seem to mind. But not now.

“A little later,” she said capriciously to her husband, she did not let him cum inside her, “I'm still too young for children. There's plenty of time for that.” Rey knew that Snoke was infuriated by her stubbornness and if she had been a trophy of a lesser value, he wouldn't have asked, but would have fucked her until she gave birth to five, one by one. But forcing Palpatine's granddaughter was dangerous. Snoke hadn't thought of that when he married the stubborn girl, but nothing could be rewound, so he tried to show affection, and Rey tried not to wrinkle her nose when her husband preferred to go to others after getting out of bed. They had the perfect marriage. Where there was no love, but mutual, albeit sometimes forced, respect reigned.

“You're frowning today,” Rose remarked as few words came out of Rey's mouth during the tea party.

“My head hurts. This climate is killing me,” Rey rubbed her temples with her thin fingers. Stony Exegol was no match for Coruscant where her highest level suite – of course – had an entire greenhouse. Having grown up on a desert planet, the girl loved greenery and now, deprived of it again, she often was discouraged. Though Snoke had ordered a garden for her the process wasn't going as fast as Rey would have liked, and a couple of palm trees in her bedroom didn't make much difference. “But you're glowing? You're pregnant again, aren't you?”

She tried desperately not to sound snide, but she failed. She sounded mocking, but Rose, busy with her youngest daughter, didn't notice. Or pretended not to.

“Oh,” Rose perked up and set the cup aside. So she'd been expecting a question all along. She smiled. “My husband got some new slaves recently, and a couple of them are so capable, oh. We haven't slept in a couple of nights. Convey my gratitude to Snoke, he always sells a very...enduring force.”

Rey studied her friend's radiant face thoughtfully. On Exegole, as on many of the planets where slavery had been allowed - the basis of her grandfather's prosperity for many years - the mores of the ancient - very, very ancient - Roman Empire reigned. Here they imitated gladiatorial fights, built their own Colosseum or Gordian Amphitheatres. They named their children after Roman emperors. And had orgies worthy of those who were not even their ancestors. Sleeping with slaves was not considered cheating, only a release. There was nothing wrong with spouses being entertained in bed by several slaves, each good at their own thing.

Rey herself did not indulge in promiscuity, an intercourse with men in collars did not appeal to her in any way. She turned a deaf ear to Rose's enthusiastic moans, turned a blind eye to the girls who had been giving Snoke a blowjob before he laid down with her. There was no dirt in this just Ancient Rome and its realities. The rich and powerful were having as much fun as they could.

Only lately had the girl, so lonely in her bed, started throwing glances at the slaves while passing a deserted place where a garden was to blossom. Snoke had no time for her in bed. Grandly laid his heir vessel on its back and gave little pleasure, and Rey... Rey wanted more. She knew that sex was an incredible pleasure, but she couldn't feel it. Barely had her husband entered her, barely had she begun to catch the rhythm as he finished... and went off to his boys for the night. They gave him much more pleasure than his wife with whom he had to behave respectfully and gently. And these sweet boys who surrounded Snoke in a flock were annoying, as were her husband's weeklong exits to other planets, either in search of new merchandise or in search of something new. Whether in search of new goods or entertainment.

And Rose was near. Glowing and satisfied. Telling in detail what wonders some slave had drawn with his tongue between her legs. It sounded so vivid that Rey almost fidgeted feeling hot. Snoke. Did. Not. Satisfy. These. Desires. Usually he'd say, “Honey, pick someone, I'm an aristocrat.” Apparently, aristocrats were too good for cunnilingus. They were good for everything except for sex with boys and boring ceremonies with wives. Because boys were for pleasure and wives were for offsprings. It’s clear which usually outweighed the other.

“Well, you know how they are,” Rose finished her story meaningfully, unaware that Rey didn't sleep with slaves. “They're primitive animals, but they have a lot of passion, a desire to please. If Snoke can sell one of those to my husband, I can imagine the gifts he gives you.”

“Sometimes lose my voice because of moans,” Rey didn’t want to disappoint her friend. She was impatiently drumming her fingers to indicate the end of the audience. While the young woman was gathering all her offsprings, Rey finished her tea in silence. After she was left alone, she sighed in relief. And why was she socializing with Rose if she was so annoyed with her?

Though, to be fair, Rey had grudgingly admitted that everything had been bugging her lately. She was bored. Being far from all of Exegole's distractions, from orgies to gladiatorial fights, the girl was bored. Abandoned by a husband who preferred to fuck others, Rey sought attention, though ironically she was under the stares all the time.

She got up and strode across her wide terrace. Her golden dress rustled around Rey, creating some sounds in this stony desert. Despite the high temperature, the girl, emphasizing her position, ignored deep necklines and didn't wear open-back outfits. All of her garments had long capes sewn onto her shoulders and so the girl always had a plume draping behind her. Not just of expensive fabric, no. Of majesty.

Suddenly, a noise caught her attention. A clang. A creak. Blows. Sounds of violence that Rey couldn't stand. Wincing, she wanted to turn away, making a note in her head to complain to Snoke that her wing in the new mansion faced the training arena, but she turned her head for unknown reason. Apparently, out of boredom. She did not stop drumming her fingers.

Narrowing her eyes slightly, she watched several gladiators as they were preparing their entering the arena, which was to take place in a week. A feast to celebrate the return of Snoke. The kind that even she would have to go to, dying of boredom and panting from the heat. And what did men find in these death games? They must have liked this kind of show. Or power over lives? Rey who'd grown up in a family of New Republic slave owners didn't understand it. However, that was all she didn’t understand. For example, she didn't care how slavery could ever... well, if not thrive, then make a fortune when everyone was supposed to be equal. She just knew why the Palpatines were fabulously rich, just like Snoke. And she liked that wealth a lot. Very much.

Liked the expensive fabrics, the splendid outfits, the luxurious apartments, the lowered heads. Or maybe she didn't imagine her life could be any different. Wrapped in glamour from birth Rey just accepted it as much a part of herself as golden lashes or delicate fingers. The girl fixed a curl that escaped her heavy hairstyle and glanced at the men with an expressionless gaze. She wasn't a tiny bit interested in laqueariuses with lassos and secutors with shields. She was rather amused that they all took turns attacking the tall man who was armed with a pair of leather straps around his bare torso, bicepses, and... Rey frowned, trying to remember what they called the straps and spikes that encircled his wrists.

“Cestus,” prompted one of Snoke's guards who stood behind her. It was always as if they were guessing her unspoken questions.

“Cestus,” Rey repeated and then nodded. Yes. The name of both these ancient, antique gloves and the gladiators themselves. Some of the rarest but skilled fighters, able to kill practically with their bare hands. They didn't need lassos, lashes, shields or chariots. They simply went out and brought death.

Holding her breath slightly, the girl watched. She had never seen a cestus. It was brutal, albeit legendary. But now for some reason she was watching. The kind of grace with which man fought was unexpected for a 6’5 tall man, but mesmerizing. So much that Rey felt aroused while watching him deftly dodge and then strike. More aroused than when Rose had described her new slave's oral talents. It was as if she was all flashed while quickly studying the tense abs and sculpted bicepses. It seemed like he had straps under his skin, too. Tight and taut.

Like something pulled in her lower abdomen as she studied the gladiator intently. When the thin lash cut across the unprotected part of his shoulder Rey moaned. It could scarcely be heard. The man - he wasn't even paying attention - was bleeding, the girl was shamelessly aroused. Sticky. Hot. F-A-N-T-A-S-T-I-C. This cestus was like an animal. Huge and dangerous. And this animal fascinated lonely Rey.

“Who is it?” She asked evenly, almost dropping her elbows on the railing to get a better look at the gladiator. After he had finished training, he stepped away from everyone, spat and began to untie the straps on his hands, exposing his bruised knuckles, then kneaded his long fingers. Very long fingers. Rey could find other uses for these fingers. On her - or in her - body.

“Your husband's new toy, Mistress,” the same guard informed her. “A very expensive one. Kylo Ren. When he belonged to his previous master he was unbeatable, so he costs a great deal of money. With him the lord plans to win the season.”

“Bring him here. Immediately. I want to… study him thoroughly,” she ordered dryly, and then returned to her chair. She fidgeted again, nonchalantly watching the maid - she hated being surrounded by slaves! - she poured a new cup of tea into a translucent cup. It was hotter than before. It burned in the back of her head.

The girl had never experienced animal lust before and didn't think much about it. She just knew. She suddenly wanted. She wanted that cestus like she wanted a new carpet or a lamp or a dress. She saw it and knew - oh, she could use it. Without wondering if it was right or wrong. Without questioning why. Perhaps because she was used to getting everything at the first flick of her thin, but commanding fingers.

“Mistress Rey,” Hux's voice, the one in charge of the slaves, came a second after the girl herself looked up and could barely keep from smiling. The sleek, even glossy Armitage - with whom, incidentally, Snoke simply a-d-o-r-e-d to spend endless nights - looked even more pale than usual against the massive gladiator, but Rey was not concerned with her husband's lover. She cast a quick glance at the slave. Quick, but intense. Not the slightest bit timid. She was evaluating.

Black hair, pale face, dark eyes, zero emotion and...oh, that animal charisma. With half-closed eyes she watched the sweat and blood run down his trained body and realized that yes, she was terrified of this animal who, against all odds, kept his gaze on her.

“Take it off,” she commanded. The man's hands were in heavy shackles and she needed his hands. The man didn't change his expression. Apparently he'd worn the iron bracelets so often that his skin had long since hardened and he couldn't feel them. He just stood there in silence and looked her straight in the eye. There was a challenge in that. Because a slave was supposed to keep his head down. Did he think he was that good? Did he feel his new master's unapproachable wife was dripping wet? Because of him. Did it made him feel superior? Didn't he know his place?

“Leave us alone,” Rey ordered and waved at Hux. The guards, like her silent shadows, stepped back a few paces and turned their backs. They were not supposed to move further back. Even in case of the most confidential conversation or the most intimate moment possible. Well, they had even seen her a year ago. When she was almost sobbing in pain, crumpling the sheets when Snoke had carelessly taken her virginity. They were present while Rey was taking a bath. Were silent witnesses to her husband having sex with her for exactly five minutes, and afterwards fucking Hux and the likes of him all night long. Yes, they really could have stayed. After all, she didn’t intend anything contrary to manners. There wasn't a noble man around, but only a slave. Such were supposed to entertain lords from time to time, not just in the arena.

“Welcome to Exegol, Ren,” she said with a grin. Without introducing herself. She knew that anyone on this planet understood who was in front of them. She was amused. They aren't the Roman Empire. Here people like cestus were allowed to have their own names, even though he was just an object, a thing. Without a barcode, but with a name. The generation after a millennium was more generous to slaves who strived for individuality.

“You know what is this?” She stood up and shaked a keychain in the air. Rey focused her gaze on the collar. Unlike other planets, where it was only a derogatory decoration, on Exegole everything made practical sense.

“Just think of something... inaproppriate, one click and my husband's expensive toy will be gone. Do you understand?” She smiled sweetly, but didn't send the current. Senseless cruelty wasn't in Rey's DNA. Just self-defense. She ran her palm across his stubbled cheek, then down his neck, sticky with sweat, then hooked the metal ring on his chest with her fingertip to which all the straps were attached to. “But you'll be a good boy, won't you? You'll do what's required of you and I won't be mean.”

Rey doubted the man could have been intimidated by the pain or her hypothetical rage. He continued to be still as if there were no words or touches. Was he waiting for a command or... froze waiting for a request that should have sounded like an order?

“Help me to relax, Ren,” well, she was good at giving orders without too many ”and I...” because the girl wasn't going to give anything in return. She glanced up to meet his gaze, and there was a flash of carefully concealed amusement. Or did she just imagine it? “I want sex,” she added because the slave didn't move. Maybe he was dumb? Or mute? Or obedient and was just waiting for concretization? In that case, Rey wanted to believe that she wouldn't have to explain absolutely everything to him. She wouldn't have to whisper that she wanted fast, hot, rough, animal sex.

Kylo studied the girl standing in front of him for ten seconds. Caramel skin, almond-shaped eyes, golden lashes, honey-colored hair. The exotic beauty of some sandy planet stood out among the gray rocks. And that beauty, despite the guards, was dying of boredom and loneliness.

In the next instant the man came alive. Still keeping his gaze steady and unchanged, he took a step toward her. Rey felt a chill running under her skin and the way the guards, who stayed behind with their backs to them, stretched out. The next second the gladiator pressed her against the rough wall and began to tug at the skirt of her expensive dress which was shimmering in the sunlight. Unceremoniously he ripped the fabric. He did not ask questions. Did not give Rey a second thought, even though she didn't need one. After all, sex with her husband - especially the first one - was essentially sex with a stranger, too. They knew nothing about each other, and Snoke had penetrated the most intimate part of her body, so there was no difference.

Although... This was the slave she wanted, so she grasped his neck, lightly scratching his collar, looking for balance. The man while still holding up her endless skirts, quickly began unbuttoning his pants. Without an ounce of embarrassment Rey lowered her eyes and watched as he reached for his cock, as he wrapped his fingers around it, as he made a few quick movements to get aroused and felt a small disappointment that he hadn't already been hard because of her from the first second. She was sticky and wet even now, and he needed stimulation. At the same time the girl knew she wanted to run her hand over his cock, feel its velvety skin. To touch the head, to make this strange man feel his vulnerability at the touch to the sensitive skin... to run her clenched fingers along the shaft, to feel the gladiator's breath hitching and his arousal growing in her hands. But she was his mistress and so touching her slave was beyond her dignity.

The man pulled Rey to himself, forcing her to put one leg on his thigh and rubbed his cock against her opening. He did not smirk at how ready she was to receive him. The girl, on the other hand, was feeling Ren's arousal harden from the contact , so she stretched her lips in a smile. Her body was beautiful even to the touch and Rey knew it. So she pressed harder against his thigh, and the next second the man sheathed himself inside her. All the way in.

She moaned in surprise. Obscenely loud. Closed her eyes. Because in a daze she hadn't appreciated his size, but now she felt it fully. So sharp. So deep. So close. Without giving her a moment for a thought the gladiator leaned his free hand against the wall and moved quickly inside her with all his animal passion. Rey knew that newcomers weren't supposed to have women before their first victories, so it was no wonder the man was so impatient and hungry. It suited her. She arched her body beneath his and wished slaves could touch her with their hands. Ren wasn’t allowed to squeeze her breasts with his strong arms. Her tits were aching for a touch and this caused more spasms in her lower abdomen. Disregarding the rules she lowered her hand and tugged at his wrist demandingly.

She wanted everything.

The next second, hands with bruised knuckles cupped her breasts. Squeezed them through the fabric, his thumb found a hardened nipple and began mercilessly rubbing it. Rey moaned again. And then again. She tilted her head back and felt his hot breathing.

“Harder. You're a fucking gladiator. Imagine that I’m... your’s... arena...” the girl gasped. She expected Ren to start thrusting faster into her body, but he tugged her skirts higher and pushed the girl up. Rey had to spread her legs and straddle his hips. Wrap her arms around his neck. Become closer to him than to anyone.

His hands squeezed her buttocks and she moaned approvingly into his shoulder. Against all odds, the man moved slower in some new, languid rhythm, spilling lust around them. The frequency of thrusts decreased, and desire only rose. But as Ren still sheathed himself inside her fully, as each thrust inside her was sharp and unforgiving, Rey was still getting her share of pleasure. And when the girl began to impatiently jerk her hips towards him, the gladiator pressed her into the wall and began to fuck her - roughly and not sublimely - in exactly that animalistic rhythm Rey had been expecting from him. And when she got it she decayed from her orbit.

She was feeling only pleasure and nothing more. Pleasure and the alien, unfamiliar breathing of the man she shared her body with, but who was distant. Who knew nothing of her as she knew nothing of him.

Rey lowered her eyes again. The slave looked only at her, and she looked down to where his cock penetrated her with obscene sounds as the unapproachable mistress melted in those strong hands. It looked so rough and good that a new wave of arousal shook the girl's body and she squirmed impatiently in anticipation of that magical moment she only felt when she caressed herself with her fingers. She had never reached an orgasm before with a man. Snoke had never tried to please her. He was just fulfilling his procreative - and futile - mission while her body wanted passion.

Well, that was what slaves existed for, wasn't it?

The man caught the change in her. Rey felt him get tense for a second. These powerless were forbidden to have pleasure, so he should have exited her body and then used his fingers or tongue to bring his mistress to her finish, but the girl who was burning in man's hands wrapped her arms around the gladiator tighter. Rules and regulations didn't exist for her, but the desire to finally cum with a man did. She wanted to feel alive. Wanted to share the moment not with her fingers and in the silence of the night, but with someone of flesh and blood and steel muscles. One of which was thrusting in her and did such things…

“Come, come with me. Looking into my eyes,” she commanded though Ren didn't look away for a second. She was the one who didn't know what to latch on to for their whole sex, he was the one who only looked into her eyes. “Give me that, cestus.”

His fingers, deftly bypassing all barriers, got to where Snoke hadn't touched. Rubbing her clit like a nipple earlier, he made her shudder and moan. Snuggling tighter so he could hear someone else's heart pounding. Next second, the girl gasped and rested her forehead against his massive shoulder.

She was shivering. Outside and inside.

Only then did the man exit her body and come somewhere on the expensive, golden fabric. Without making a sound. Just came. Then he buttoned his pants up and fixed her skirt. He sat down and with the palm of his hand wiped what he had messed up. He knew these masters who had got lost in pleasure, had given stupid orders, and then allowed to execute for spoiled dress. Therefore, he put the outfit in order as best as he could. He finally stopped to glare at the girl and was waiting for the lash at his shoulders. Punishment always followed a liberty even one committed inadvertently.

Rey, whose legs were still trembling, exhaled and only then realized that she probably hadn't been breathing since this slave had entered the room. She needed a handhold.

“Leave it,” she pulled her skirt up and waved a hand. “Get up. You're not just good in the arena, are you? Well, well.” She slumped back in her chair, feeling the scent of someone else's sweat and semen on her skin. Of life. Yes. She was wearing the unvarnished scents of reality. Evidence of a passion that stung the heart.

“Dismissed. Ah, yes. Take it. You've earned it,” she waved carelessly at the plate full of exotic fruits. She knew the new slaves weren't well fed. The rules on this planet were as harsh as the climate. The man paused for a moment, apparently thinking about something, then shook his head. “Thank you, my lady,” he said and then took the offering.

His voice was beautiful - beautiful, indeed - low, velvety. The kind that made everything inside her twist. And that ”my” gave him away as a new slave because on Exegole slaves were not allowed to arrogate to their masters, but Rey liked it unexpectedly. Because even to her husband she was a stranger. Her independence no one could delineate and frame as ”her own”.

“Dismissed,” Rey repeated, looking away. As though losing interest, as though, for some reason, not wanting to see the hands that had clenched her breasts and buttocks been shackled again while the man was helding tightly to his plate. There was something painful about it. Like he really needed some stupid fruits that couldn't really satisfy his hunger.

A few hours later Rey, after a shower and a refreshing massage, stopped at one of the large windows near staircase that was overlooking the courtyard where the slaves were let in to take a walk before being driven into their cages after grueling work or training. A tall, massive figure she could see from a distance. Now, wearing a wide shirt, the man sat alone. With his legs curled up he was slowly eating figs, dipping his lips into the tender skin.

The small amount of food allowed for newcomers was probably not enough for such a giant, so Ren was relishing. Or maybe he just liked fruits which was unlikely since there was nowhere for slaves to get them.

Watching his lips move as he licked the juice from his finger, Rey felt all her insides twisting again. Shaking her head, the girl quickly stepped away from the window and made her way to the library. But all she did there was flipping through a book, not catching the meaning. Her body was surprisingly light and there was a complete peace inside her. Rey clenched her fists. She enjoyed the entertainment. But she wasn't about to give in to passion and do something like this again. After all, there was no need to get attached later. To pleasure, of course, not to a particular slave.

Chapter Text

Gladiators were considered the lowest "caste" even among slaves, and becoming a gladiator is a huge shame for a Roman citizen.

“Damn planet, why is it always so hot here," Rey cursed. She inhaled hot air, and exhaled incandescent. She felt like none of the air conditioners in her rooms were saving her from the sweltering heat. Rey was holding a bottle of ice-cold water to her neck, into which she always ordered to add sliced figs and apricots. The girl was watching the surrounding grayness, red-hot from the sun. Rocks and rocks. And not a single speck of color except for herself wrapped in a long, dark purple robe, and guardsmen in red who were following an angry mistress. “And these steps are stupid.”

She's not yet settled in this new palace. Barely had used to the old one when Snoke decided to move to a place even more pretentious – the one that could accentuate his wealth even more –  but there was a trouble. Everything around it was still surrounded by... nothing. For their arrival there was enough time only to prepare the palace, and, of course, the arena for gladiators. They had only just begun to create a garden of stones where Rey hoped to rest. In the future she expected to persuade Snoke to create for her on this lifeless planet a prototype of the garden of the Tokugawa royal family in the Nijo-jo palace in Kyoto which she saw in distant pictures from the ancient past.

Even though the rooftot pool wasn't completely finished either the girl wanted to swim in it. She didn't care that not all of the tiles around it were laid in a firebirds patterns like Snoke wanted. All that mattered was that the pool itself was finished and filled with the purest water, free of impurities like chlorine or salt. Such a thing was a luxury, of course, and maintaining such a whim on a planet like Exegol cost a great deal of money, but her husband thought that an exotic flower like her was worth every penny or drop of water spent.

So, thankfully, there was a pool. Filled with an always chill water.

Which should have cooled down both her sweltering body and mood inflamed by boredom. Snoke didn’t get back on time again though he'd promised to be by the weekend. Again and again she had to entertain herself. She wanted more - she knew exactly how much more and at what angle - but Rey didn't resort to the slaves' services anymore. And she didn't use the staircase that overlooked the courtyard where they spent twenty minutes getting some air and pleasantly doing nothing before going to sleep. But she visualized someone else instead of her husband while rubbing her body furiously. Actually, it was the first time she had ever imagined anyone in particular though she tried to whisk the thoughts away. She couldn't be impressed by the first slave that fucked her. It was so...vulgar. She was twenty-one, after all. Time for the romantic belief that sympathy could conquer all, including inequality, had disappeared on her first wedding night when she'd been taken, hurt, and then indifferently left in bed. Snoke had gone off to celebrate their marriage with his boys, and she could hear her husband's enthusiastic moans through the wall. She had learned a major lesson. Feelings were for idiots. There was only pleasure and no affection in the world. So she denied her interest - slight, barely tangible - in that cestus. He had served his purpose, basta. The girl understood the direction in which she wanted to develop her body and their intimacy with Snoke which meant she no longer needed slaves. When her husband will return she will be sure to show him what she learned. They would go beyond the bed, yes. The girl knew she would whisper a few lewd phrases in his ear as soon as Snoke came out of his starship, and ask him to fuck her right in the hallway. After all, he's just bored with her, so she'll show him, prove that she can be a very bad, reckless girl, good for more than just conjugal duty on Thursdays.

Smiling at her thoughts, Rey finally made her way up to the roof, not sure why she hadn't used the elevator. Then she remembered - annoyingly - that the glass cabin, as well as all the windows of her wing, overlooked the training arena and she just didn't want to feel how the lithe cestus body turned her on.

Instead of a cool breeze, a heat wave blew into the girl's face. Cursing for the umpteenth time Rey still refrained from comment. She turned her head and frowned.

“Why are there slaves here?” She muttered, as three dozen men under supervision were busy laying out the pattern Snoke wanted. The slave labor was usually dispersed when Rey arrived, but apparently they had to finish that part of the work before their master arrived, so... She wanted to say something, but then she raised her hand imperiously as she saw the guardsman was about to order the chief warder to lead everyone away. She spotted him. Cestus. In just his pants he was dragging heavy stones for the fountain-rock from which the extra water was to flow into the pool. There were a pair of bright red whip marks on his back, an indication that the new slave was still just learning new mores. But that wasn't what she was paying attention to. Not even his sculpted muscles. And not the way his shoulder blades moved and the sweat rolled all over his body.

He was looking at her, this Kylo Ren. He freezed with the boulder in his hands. He didn't even seem to notice that the lash had split the air again and left a new mark, but Rey flinched as if she felt the impact. And the absurdity of the situation. They lived thousands of years away from the Ancient World, in a civilization full of modern technology, droids and perfect engineering, so why were slaves dragging such heavy stones? Cestus's veins bulged with exertion. That simple question shocked Rey so much that she froze. The answer, of course, was no less obvious. Because hand-laid stones or tiles were more highly valued. Only rich people could afford such a handmade work, and Snoke liked to emphasize their position.

And Rey was looking that position in the eye.

She was evaluating.

The slave was from a less hot land. His shoulders were unprotected by the straps and flushed from the sun. A gladiator was bought for fights, but was obliged to work off his food here, at hard labor, and so his pale skin burned and his lips chapped. Kylo resumed his drudgery, but it didn't escape her how quickly and greedily he glanced at one of his warders. Who was drinking water. Since water was very expensive slaves were given it in the morning and after work. Such luxuries were forbidden during the work and the man must have been thirsty, especially when he was looking at the cool smooth water glistening nearby for the whole day, but which he could not scoop up. It would cost him his life. Everything that was done for her on Exegol was a line that was forbidden to cross.

“Stop,” Rey said briefly, and Kylo Ren stopped. Turned toward her, not letting go of the heavy stone. Sweat dripped down his temples and his muscles shook faintly, but he stood steady. He knew that his work could be stopped, but not interrupted. So he was holding tightly. “You can put your burden down. Are you thirsty?”

Kylo obeyed the command and shook his head negatively. Of course, there was a rule against saying “no” to masters, but it always went hand in hand with another, more slippery one that didn't allow asking for anything. The next second the guardsman got him on his knees for such impertinence with a couple of pokes with the stun gun. His hands were instantly tied behind his back. As if he could hurt this girl. Fucking rules. He missed.

The whole scene happened before Rey could even blink. Here he was standing in front of her, proud and denying help, and now he was down on his knees and tied up. Taking a step, she moved closer to the slave. She didn’t want to look too soft and asked dryly. “Drink?”

“Yes. Please. My Mistress.” The word – not  so meek again - hit Rey. Even on his knees he was defiant though he looked weary. She didn’t want to play games with the slave, so the girl unscrewed her bottle and put it to his dry lips. The man closed his eyes with pleasure and began to swallow quickly and greedily. The girl's heart clenched. Never had she seen slaves so close at work. They were always something abstract, somewhere beyond her life, not like this - dying of thirst by the pool full of water.

She wanted - irrationally - to wipe his wet forehead with the broad sleeve of her robe, but the girl knew how that would look, so she couldn't even command to untie the cestus or hold his head so he wouldn't choke, because at one point, while lost in thought, she turned the bottle too high and Ren coughed.

When he had finished the girl put the empty bottle away. She noticed a slice of fig between slave's lips which he swallowed with great pleasure, keeping his gaze on her, causing Rey to feel a strange, but so pleasant heaviness in her lower abdomen. It was as if something intimate had happened between them, though nothing had.

“Thank you, my mistress,” he thanked her quietly, looking as satisfied as if she'd been in bed with him for hours, not as if she'd given him water. Like that slice of fig... she shouldn't have thought of anything.

“All slaves working on my pool and the garden of stones below must be given as much water as they need,” Rey ordered indifferently, stepping away from the man and glancing at Hux who was aleady there. “If I find out that my orders are being disobeyed and for asking for water they are beaten, I will order for you to be flogged by one of my guardsmen. In public. And make you work in this heat without a drop of water. We need strength, not dehydrated corpses. Slaves are expensive. They must not be unreasonably used.”

Rey wished to appear and sound rational. Not just a silly girl who took pity on someone. She knew whose granddaughter and wife she was, so caring would sound too hypocritical. But not wanting to spend money on new slaves instead of dead ones suited well.

“I especially forbid unwise disposal of gladiators. They must have absolutely everything. If we live by the laws of the Ancient World here, so I remind - the better gladiator lives, the better he fights, wins, hence brings more profit. Don't be foolish to waste my husband's investment. Everyone is dismissed now. Although... Ren, you will stay. Serve as my railing since no one can finish it. Armitage, my husband would skin you alive if I broke my head entering the pool. When I'm done the railings should be up by morning.”

She grinned not sweetly. They both knew that the most her spouse would do to him was getting these pants off, put him on his knees and fuck him to both Snoke's and Armitage's mutual pleasure, and she would hear it if she didn't leave in time, but... well, then Rey could take the whip in her own hands. And that was something Hux knew all too well too.

“Dismissed,” Rey repeated, frowning slightly and even shrugging her shoulders impatiently. She didn't know why she'd left this cestus around. But with her arms crossed she waited for the roof to empty and the guardsmen to move away. When they were alone she handed the slave a snow-white towel scented with honey. “You are bleeding. Clean yourself up.”

The girl said that very sharply so the slave wouldn't understand that she was sorry for him. It was a pity to see those whip marks on his skin. Pity to see the proud man brought to his knees. Pity to see him drinking greedily. So she just tossed the words and handed over the towel. Let him wipe off his blood faster.

But in private the slave was in no hurry to obey. Carefully, so as not to stain the terry, folded the towel on the bench. He had never forgotten the golden rule that one must never stain the master’s clothes. Not with blood, not with semen, not with sweat, not with anything. Of all their belongings the only ones they didn't take care of were slaves. The rest were untouchable.

The girl’s eyebrow twitched, she was nervously tugging at the waistband of her robe.

“Need some help?” The gladiator offered calmly, but didn't move without permission. Rey nodded. She drew in a shaky breath as his fingers untied the knot and then gently, without touching her skin, undid the three buttons that kept the robe from flapping in the wind which was absent. She froze, keeping a bored expression on her face, then jerked her shoulders, letting the fabric slip, exposing her caramel-colored body in a red pink two-piece swimsuit. Rey let her hair down and felt everything around her still, including Kylo Ren's breathing. She glanced up and caught him not looking in her eyes, but studying her body as greedily as he was drinking water.

And the girl couldn't reprimand the slave for his insolence because... she liked it. Liked the way he unbuttoned her clothes because no man had ever undressed her, and liked the way the cestus was studying every inch of a body usually devoid of attention. She had a maid who helped her undress when she went to the bed with Snoke, her husband never caressed or explored. He just got on top of her and sometimes even hurt her. Not out of spite, just... apparently, he couldn’t with girls. And Rey wanted her clothes to be taken off, to be explored, to be kissed and touched. She was young and passionate. She wanted everything she didn't have, but the girl knew a slave would only give it all on command, so she snapped her fingers and forbid to look.

“Forgive me, my lady, you're just very beautiful," сestus was not confused by her displeasure, he only took a step back. A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes again. As if he remembered about his mission to be a railing he helped the girl and she finally dove into the cool water.

And made Kylo swallow. He was feeling hot, too. But he wasn't supposed to be, so he stood straight, feeling the burning sun. Waiting for any order. And as he watched a nearly naked body basking in the coolness he thought it was more difficult than dragging stones. Much harder. Rey, on the other hand, wasn't happy, so she didn't even turn around. She swam, swinging her legs irritably, making water drops fall on cestus, and he even smiled, licking them from his upper lip.

The girl was so angry she didn't feel the blissful temperature. This slave had read her naїvety and stupidity, so he took advantage, allowing himself to say such phrases. Apparently, wishing to get himself more food or fruits with a couple of impertinent words. She should have ordered one of the guardsmen to tear out his tongue, gladiators didn't need those, but... perhaps she wanted to hear more. Of course she knew about her beauty. However, knowing and hearing from a man are very different things. Usually the phrase "you're beautiful" was said by women with envy, by her grandfather with appreciation, figuring out what benefit the union would bring, by Snoke with the pride of owning a beautiful thing. Her husband was a collector. Collected mighty gladiators, fragments of ancient amphorae and... yes, she made a fine addition to the list. The slave said it simply. Without the slightest implication.

Rey blew off some steam and sat down on the pool's edge, nodded carelessly toward the whole pile of towels she'd brought beforehand. Transparent droplets dripped down her body. In the sunlight the girl seemed to glow, something she herself didn't realized, but Kylo noted.

She was glowing with all the colors of the rainbow and desire she herself unwittingly broadcast: her nipples hardened under the wet swimsuit. Without thinking she stoke a seductive pose, allowing herself to be explored. Her lips were parted. So the man handed her a towel and crouched behind her, placing his hot, calloused hands on her soft skin.

Breaking all the rules and... knowing nothing would happen. He was left here for the sake of that non-verbal command.

Wiping away the droplets - the cherished moisture - Kylo leisurely was massaging her shoulders, and then his hands slid lower. To her chest, repeating circular movements and making the girl jerk, but the force held her in place.

“What the...”

“I'm sorry, my mistress,” Rey heard him apologize again though the blood in her ears pounded, muffling everything around. “I was stupid. Misunderstood the command. Thought I should help you as I did then.”

“My guardsmen will cut off your hands for this,” the girl hissed, not hearing the humility in the slave's voice. He understood everything, but apparently he wanted to touch her more. And she really should call for guards, which were standing with their backs to them, but there was a trouble. She really didn't want cestus to lose his hands. And not at all because he needed them to fight. She just needed them here. On her own body which was covered with goosebumps in the presence of this strange man.

“Perhaps it would be worth it. To lose my hands.” An even bolder response sounded, but the fingers froze. Feeling that a bit higher this beautiful girl's heart was pounding frantically. “Shall I help you get up?”

“Go on,” Rey said, she closed her eyes, but she was getting even more angry. He'd done it on purpose, deliberately made her admit with this one phrase that yes, she needed more. “Just keep going. I let you touch me.”

“Everywhere?” The slave clarified almost meekly, stroking the wet fabric and teasingly climbing his fingers underneath. Cupping her breasts and squeezing them. Teasing the nipple with his thumb. Rey exhaled and pressed her back against the heated torso. She fidgeted, feeling that the bottom of her swimsuit was absolutely wet too, but not just because of the water. It wasn't as hot as the desire that spilled over. Breathing hoarsely, she spread her knees almost beggingly.

“Everywhere, yes. Touch me everywhere.” She whispered, biting her lip as a second - no less scalding - palm slid down. His fingertips faintly stroked through her swimsuit. There was a stark contrast between this movement and the way the cestus squeezed – with pleasurable pain - her breasts, but Rey took her time. It seemed to her that if he touched at once - a handful of ashes would be left of her.

Resting her head on his shoulder, the girl squeezed her eyes shut, but when Ren's fingers began to climb under the fabric, she reflexively clenched her knees, feeling very vulnerable. No one but herself touched her there. No one knew her secrets. No one knew anything about her at all. Just a beautiful slave trader's wife, nothing more. And she wanted more.

His palm, already in the right place, moved. His fingers, coarse from all the hard work, ran over her clit, over her sensitivity, and then she shuddered, moved closer, opening herself up again. Placing herself under the caress. She squeezed the palm that rested on her chest. This was better than at night and alone. This was real.

His finger continued to play with her, circling her clit then sliding to vagina and back, collecting lube and making the slides even more pleasurable. The girl moaned softly, her body was wriggling naughtily, her other hand was holding the side of the pool as if Rey were trying to hold back the thrill that made her so light, weightless.

“Inside. I want to feel them there. Inside.” She croaked and then a shock ran through her body as two long fingers penetrated her and they were felt by the girl far better than anything Snoke had done to her in the bed for a year. Groaning, Rey stopped squeezing slave's palm, involuntarily dropped her hand and started caressing her clit herself. At the pace she needed. Moving her hips, riding those damned fingers, getting them where they needed to be.

Suddenly Ren caught her slender wrist - he could have broken it without even trying hard - and placed her hand back. On her chest. The girl, who was already on the verge, frowned and turned to the man. He stopped caressing her at all. He was looking into her eyes, but left her body alone.

“Let me give you some advice, my mistress,” he said calmly, looking at her furious face. “There is no need to hurry. The slower the pleasure, the... sweeter it is,” and keeping his gaze on her, he licked the fingers that were inside her. Hot and wet. “Much sweeter,” he confirmed as if convinced.

Rey, like mesmerized, craned her neck and opened her lips. The next second his fingers were inside her mouth as if letting her taste her own vicious desire. Caressing them with her tongue, she no longer thought it was wrong to touch the slave. She loved it. It turned her on. And the fact that this cestus was behaving differently today. She liked it too. It wasn't mechanical, brutal, animalistic sex with his face expressing nothing.

This was a mutual game. With real emotions. With the stroking of nerves. So she even bit her fingers lightly and her heart nearly exploded - a man, a slave, a gladiator doomed to die - smiled. With the corners of his lips and eyes. Not a mocking smile, not a forced one, but a smile.

And then he gently lowered his fingers back down, no longer dipping them into Rey's body. Just stroking insistently and watching her play with her nipples to tinge the pleasure. Feeling the girl's body pile up with impatience, Ren began to increase the pace. He loved the way she moaned somewhere into his chin. How the one who looked so bossy, was wriggling now in his arms, greedily galping for air with her mouth. And then she looked up into his eyes.

They were so clear. They were brown, but they looked blue for some reason. Probably because the pupils were dilated and were reflecting the sky. Not the dull, lifeless one that hung over them, but the one to which he had lifted her with those touches. The seventh, yes. His eyes were the color of the seventh sky, and she herself was full of bliss.

Their gazes met and the next second he leaned in, yielding to the sinful urge, and the girl moved towards him. The moment when his fingers were making her moan, their lips touched.

Rey allowed herself to let his tongue into her mouth and it was more intimate than penetrating her lower. The sensation was so intense that she moaned sensuously. Cumming and kissing was something truly magnificent. So much so that it shook the girl. And sobered her. It was all over the line. It was her behavior as if they were lovers, not "slave - mistress". Frightened by the rush of emotion the girl jerked, and the cestus, sensing the change, broke off the kiss.

“Out! Get out,” she barked, pushing him away from her. His lips, his hands, his gaze. All of him. They. Were. Not. Lovers. They're nobody. He's not allowed to kiss her, she's... yeah, she's not allowed to kiss him either. Rules. They were all around and sprouted like a barbed wall between the bodies that had just been hot a minute ago. “Out! And the next time you're this cocky I'll have my husband corral you in the arena, understood?!”

The slave immediately obediently rose and put his hands behind his back as the guardsmen came to life at her shout. He braced himself for the pain and it followed. He paid for the kisses with a lash across his skin and then with bound hands. He didn't even raise an eyebrow for that was so like fickle masters. To punish for their own desires.

“Enjoy your rest, my lady,” he replied simply, letting himself be led back to his hard labor. Unsatisfied. Tired. Still thirsty, and Rey, finding herself back in the pool, pressed her forehead against the edge. What was that now, what? She must be out of her mind. It was one thing to command to be fondled, satisfied, even fucked, but another to lick someone else's fingers and kiss them. Apparently, loneliness was playing against her. She hoped for Snoke to return sooner.

But somewhere in there, inside, her heart was pounding frantically, Rey, alas, knew all too well the bitter truth. Her husband's return wouldn't change anything. He wouldn't love her. Wouldn't give her anything. Wouldn't elevate her. She's just a pretty little wife for representative purposes. But what's worse, once she gets involved with this cestus, she won't be the same. She'll want him and only him. She'll visualize Ren during the bad sex with Snoke. And crumple the sheets with anger until... until she gives up and calls him again.

So was it worth it to resist?

Definitely. So the slave would know exactly where he belonged because it felt like he was the one in control, not Rey. 

***

Kylo was returned to his cage as night began to fall on Exegol. After working on the rock garden - or was it the garden of stones? - he'd been pushed straight into gladiatorial training, leaving him without his fifteen minutes of rest before he went to sleep. But he wasn't in the habit of complaining. When you're a slave it's foolish to complain that something didn't go according to plan because you don't have a plan.

Licking blood from his knuckles, he waited patiently for the guards to open the five locks on the cage. Apparently his new master would be returning soon for the guards had told him he would only be training for the next few days which meant the start of a new gladiatorial season was close. Well, it was even better. He didn't like to carry stones, and he had a lot of unresolved anger to burn.

And he had a lot of anger. Lots of it. That girl... that girl annoyed him and wouldn't let him continue. Again. Slaves don't complain. But he prepared that body for mutual pleasure, and she... well, masters were always like that. Although, Kylo couldn't call her mistress even in his mind. Vader, on the other hand, was a master. Cruel, merciless lover to whip his salves, but not Rey, who was a lonely, bored girl, though if one knew – and everyone did – where she came from, you'd think she'd be a real bitch in a few years. But for now, she was very young.

And completely devoid of attention. Kylo guessed why. Many men preferred other men so their wives had orgies with slaves. He had seen and participated in these expensive entertainments of bored ladies more than once. Just looking at this girl he could not understand. She was very good looking. Only an idiot would leave her bed for the sake of fucking someone else - male or female - whatever. Kylo himself wouldn't mind a repeat of what happened near the wall, but either Rey was scared or she decided to show her character and not let him dominate which almost happened. Such a waste. It was her "out" that sounded weak and not strong in any way. The strong weren't afraid of their desires, but the inexperienced... the inexperienced were afraid of everything, especially losing control of themselves. Even though he himself was... lost. He should have thought better of kissing her without permission and ruining everything. Rey allowed him to be cheeky and he got a little playful. Touched where he shouldn't have. Lips, unlike the rest of the body, had always been forbidden territory, but it seemed to him that the girl wanted the same.

Kylo entered the cage - his regal 2x2 chambers where he could barely fit his legs in his sleep - and raised an eyebrow. In the middle of the cage was a plate full of figs. He sat down on the floor - or bed, whichever way you looked at it – put the plate on his knees, and leaned back against the bars. He wanted sex - vivid, passionate, or even any sex. Even with himself. You can't bring a girl, who was leaning her beautiful, tanned body against you, to orgasm, and not feel unsatisfied, but it was impossible to satisfy yourself. For such entertainment in the cage you could then be left without a particularly valuable to the gladiator organs. Or, more precisely, the organ. So he could only stare at the fruits, wondering what they were.

A sop like the last time?

An apology for her cum and his lashing?

A hint that she'd seen him eating it in the backyard that very day?

A gratitude?

Kylo thoughtfully ran the pad of his finger over the fruit’s skin, thinking it was as velvety as the girl, who looked somewhat like a fig herself in her purple robe and pale red bathing suit. Her skin also felt good to the touch, and - he poked at the fruit with his nail and grinned, sinking his finger into the ripe, supple pulp. Yes. The girl definitely was just as wet and squelchy inside, too. With a chuckle he brought the fig to his lips, digging into the skin and using his tongue to get inside. He swallowed.

She was sweet like that fruit. Too bad she didn't let him taste her. Penetrate her. He had already seen it coming, caressing the girl. He knew he'd go in the cool water. Where it would cover tired shoulders. He would pull the girl, sitting on the edge, closer and caress her with his tongue where only his fingers had wiggled. Enjoying...  the ripeness. Squeezing her thighs and enjoying her moans. And then he'd pull her into the water, pin her to the side and everything would be much better than when they were against the wall, when the heat didn't allow to dip into pleasure. He'd show a girl who looked like she'd never been undressed by a man what sex was like. Teach her, keeping her between water and orgasm.

He'd had a lot of women in his life. Free and not. Beautiful and not. But they were all equally cruel. And this Rey was inexperienced and... oh, soft in every way. She liked the game he offered her. But they never finished.

Kylo growled softly, sucking out all the pulp.

He. He wasn't done. Didn't cum. And he wanted to. Into a specific girl. On a specific part of the body. Looking into specific eyes. But he was just a slave, so all he was left to do was dream about her, eating figs.

Chapter Text

Slaves always contrive to have a salve of their own.

The basketball sneakers were not at all suitable for running - well, let them be! They were beautiful and she was comfortable - they kicked up dust, but the girl didn't care. Listening to music that drowned out her thoughts, she simply ran along a familiar route at an unusual time. Usually she preferred this ritual of hers in the morning, but now she went out in the evening. To occupy herself. To distract herself. To get out the anger.   

Snoke got back this afternoon. Promised to be yesterday and Rey, beautiful in her new scarlet dress, had waited until midnight and then fallen asleep. Dressed up, young, unwanted. In the morning she had showered, changed her beautiful dress into an even more gorgeous outfit. Ordered a dark, alluring makeup and patiently continued to wait. She knew for sure - her husband would be back today because tomorrow started his favorite gladiator fights. A new season. This was something Snoke didn't miss.

This time expectations were not deceived. She was sipping sangria with figs and rosemary when his ship landed. Wasting no time, slightly intoxicated by wine and desire Rey went downstairs to greet her husband. Taking advantage of her position, she dispersed all the servants and met him alone. Smiling viciously. She hugged his neck. Kissed him hotly on the lips like she had kissed... yes, like she had kissed that slave, whose name she still moaned capitulatingly in her bedroom in the night, trying to reach where his fingers had reached, but failing. Snoke, surprised by his wife's impulse, responded and then pulled away. 

“Business, my darling, business. I'll come to you tonight, you gorgeous thing,” and he was gone, leaving Rey in the corridor of unfulfilled desires. Without looking down at her cleavage. Without touching her breasts. Not even pressing her against the wall so that the promise would sound like it was full of lust and not a boring marital duty.

But that wasn't what disappointed the girl. It was the kind of encounter Rey had expected. Rather, it was something else. Snoke had kissed her for the first time, really, the right way, but nothing resonated in her. Her body remained muffled and dry. Nothing in it strained, snapped.

And so Rey ran. Changed clothes. Changed her pretty outfit to a top and leggings. Tied up her hair, and tried to restrain her desire. She was fleeing from the inevitable. It was the slave who turned her on, not what he was doing. Because at the sight of him she gasped, feeling herself tremble, and Snoke was only a stubborn failed attempt to prove herself that it was only a matter of body reflexes. A body that had been so foolish as to choose a slave over an eminent, noble aristocrat to match her.   

Though... one could say the same about Snoke since he'd chosen Hux over his young, ardent wife. But at least he was free. And he had a name. Not a big name, but it sounded a lot better than some cestus, even an invincible one.   

Rey's run, though she confused, was relaxed. This was entirely her time and she felt like herself here. No mask, no luxury or a majestic plume. Usually no one was on her way. Until this minute when the damned Kylo Ren, who was jogging, appeared from behind a sharp turn.

They both froze.

Rey didn't forbid the use of the park for gladiators’ jogging. They were supposed to run in the stadium, but the route of her personal space was more difficult, therefore, it trained endurance more. The only condition was that the slave warriors didn't cross paths with her, but today she herself showed up at an unusual for her time, so there was nothing to frown upon. Especially since the rules had not been broken. Ren was handcuffed, his collar throbbing familiarly around his neck. It offered no danger, and if anything, the snipers would remove him in a split second.

But he still carried a threat because he was running around shirtless, drawing the hungry gaze of the disappointed girl. So massive, so handsome, so... alive. Strong and fierce. Perhaps he would be her husband's best warrior. And simply the best for her.

“My mistress, forgive me,” the slave immediately said. His nighttime fantasy, which tortured and deprived him of sleep, was here. At arm's length... if he had the right or the opportunity, of course, to reach for her. All week after their kiss Kylo had been feeling the taste of forbidden, and seeking with his eyes the one who no longer desired him. At times he was lucky enough to see Rey from afar: for instance, the sleeve of a motley dress flashed somewhere, but she didn't come close, losing the interest she had sparked in him.

Perhaps the only reason was that he hadn't been with a woman in a couple of months. Maybe he hadn't been wanted by such a young and beautiful girl for a long time. He didn't think much about the reasons. Just. Searching. With his eyes. And then he practically came upon her, stripped of her usual silks or brocades. She looked even more youthful in her jogging suit and... how fucking more dissolute. Not because of the tight top. Rather because of the heavy eye makeup. Alluring makeup that made her eyes look bottomless. He was so excited that if he hadn't been handcuffed, he would have thrown himself at her. The girl who sent him figs every night. Not letting herself be forgotten. And he touched the fruits inside with his finger, each time imagining his cock entering her. To the point where both words and breath would disappear.   

If the fruit had been bigger, he would have forgotten about punishments, and definitely cum inside it, but no, he had to fantasize and languish in desire. Kylo had been wrong about the naїve girl. That one was more cruel than those bitches who liked to wave the whip in bed. She reminded of herself, made herself wanted, and no amount of grueling training helped to forget her. This firebird must burn beneath him.   

Though it is hard to catch a free bird with restrained hands.

“You're not allowed to run around here while I'm on the grounds,” Rey didn't exude affability, but she didn't rush to call for guards, either. She was sipping her water. Prolonging the pleasure of being here. Next to him. The handcuffed stranger.

“Forgive me, my mistress, I dared to come here only because my master had returned.” Kylo answered meekly, and then flashed his dark eyes slyly. “So I was sure you were... busy.”   

Rey who had been pondering the fact that Ren had his first fight tomorrow, didn't understand at first, and then she felt dumbfounded by his impertinence. Had he really just said outright that he was only running around here because he was sure that her husband was fucking her which meant the park was free?   

And now he was so meaningfully silent because her presence spoke - eloquently and loudly - that Snoke didn't need her. Sometimes silence spoke louder about the unspeakable than sarcastic phrases.

“Normally our warder makes sure we don't wander around here and run into you, but fate favors me and he's very busy.”    

Rey remained silent. His warder was Hux. Yes, whom Snoke demanded to join him right after they had their fight. Because of Kylo Ren. Because of the water the slave was now quietly drinking. Her husband, who had gone to his office, summoned Rey there when he saw that the expanses on her garden of stones had risen because of her caprice to give slaves water. The girl turned pale with anger. Apparently, Snoke only paid attention to her when the expanses rose. Reminding her husband of her dowry, she stormed out of the office exactly the second a smiling Hux entered.

“By the way, he treats the expansive slaves mediocrely. I'm displeased!” Rey shot her poisonous arrow between the shoulder blades of both Hux and Snoke, knowing that there would be no effect. Sending the gladiator to hard labor seemed less of a crime than letting him drink water. Caring worth more than bullying. A talentless and pointless one. “And if you care so much for our expenses, my dear, let your... assistant not so mediocrely dispose of the most expensive investments. Otherwise, I will replace him. After all, gladiators games are paid from my accounts.”

And now she was faced against the result of her angry words. Kylo Ren wasn't dragging stones, no. He stood there and embarrassed her, seducing her with bare torso and such straightforward phrases. Which he had no right to say, he did not!  

“I will have your tongue cut off.” Her phrase was a mistake for it showed that it hurt, but Rey was still stunned by the frank impertinence.

“It would have served you well, my mistress,” Ren was not embarrassed. How did he manage to break a hundred of rules without even moving, the main ones of them being humility and respect? Not only did her husband disregard her, but the slave, gifted with one thoughtless kiss, thought the world of himself.  

“Yeah? So are you going to draw your "I'm sorry" on me right here?” She asked ironically, running her palm lightly over the bare skin under her top and over her leggings. Where her desire was beating.

“Below, my mistress, somewhere just above the inside of your thighs. Actually, just between them.   

He said that in such a way. Without the humility of a slave, but with the heat of a man desiring a particular girl. Rey, unaware of such a thing, felt her legs begin to tremble. Yes, the girl was well aware that she could command and he would do anything, but... she wanted to be pleasured not on the orders, and yet she could not afford such liberties.    

Because the slave already had a too high opinion of himself, allowed himself to voice things that even Rey was silent about. She found a bench with her eyes, and sat on it, squinting, gestured for him to sink down beside her. On the ground.

“The shoelace is undone,” she stretched out her leg. The slave crouched down and obediently began - the handcuffs didn't really interfere - to tighten those, squinting at the girl. Wondering if she would spread her knees or not. Would she give what they both wanted? “I could make you, so talented, lick everything from the soles of my Jordans to that fountain with your long tongue, but... since you're so clever, you should be rewarded.”   

Now she spoke like a true mistress. Those liked to humiliate, to remind them of their position, and then to demand pleasure. Kylo, who easily forgot beside her that he was only a slave, turned sullen. Not at all because he didn't know what the sand and dust of other people's shoes tasted like, it just didn't suit her. He wouldn’t be surprised if the reward was a whip. He was used to such gifts. So he squared his shoulders, ready to take the blow.    

Indeed, he had been daring. More out of anger than out of a desire to hurt. Anger that there were men capable of acquiring such beautiful girls and ignor them. Anger that she was as good as a ripe fig that he wanted to penetrate with every part of his body: his tongue, his fingers, his cock. Anger that he, cynicism aside, was dying to taste the fruit of the forbidden tree.

Forbidden not because of position. Because of his own desires. Fruit that smelled enticingly of rosemary and honey. So hot that if it fell on her skin, it would froth, imbued with the unique taste of her youth. Which he wanted to lick off. Off her breasts after taking off the top she didn't need. 

Beautiful, neat breasts, yes. Like an apricot to the touch. 

He immediately wanted to do it all. To undress her, to pull her to him and caress with his tongue, biting lightly a nipple that would feel like a seed. Again, an apricot seed. With which it is so pleasant to play in the mouth when the fruit is eaten.

“Stand up,” she ordered sharply, but he didn't move. She glanced thoughtfully at the man, well aware that his groin was now somewhere at her eye level. “Closer, Ren, come closer. Closer. That's it. It's a good thing there's only two of us, isn't it? No guardsmen, no one...”

She licked her lips, and made him swallow. And then she reached out and touched his abs with her palm, running her fingers thoughtfully over the seemingly steel muscles. Ren tensed and involuntarily took a step back. All his playful, fruity, like a salad, thoughts were gone. There were no more figs and apricots. There was no smell of rosemary. Only the smell of heated metal handcuffs. Which meant reality. That's what always happened when you crossed the line from dream back.

“Don't... don't.”

“Don't what?” Rey asked playfully, luring him with a smile. Kylo was silent for a few seconds, and then sharply - sharper than allowed – answered. “Get your hands dirty. I'm not a free man. I can't be touched. Let me do it.”  

Rey realized that this was the first time she had heard and seen him behave like a slave. He was humiliatingly reminding her of his position, though, Rey could see in his eyes: he wanted, very much wanted these touches. They really weren't touched. Even having sex with some other mistress - and he clearly wasn't just used in fights - he didn't know the same as she did. That's funny.    

He had a lot of experience. She had none. 

He was the most disenfranchised person, she was an aristocrat.    

That said, they had something in common. Both were handsome and both did not know the gentle touch of hands. Ren was often whipped – even on his chest were old marks, and she was whipped by indifference.    

They both wanted to know this simple joy and they both forbade it. Rey - for herself and Ren, too... for her. Did he care? More likely he just didn't want to lose any other part of his body besides his tongue.

“I decide what I can and can't do here, okay?” The girl cut him off, and got up. Now she was breathing directly into some old scar on his collarbone. Slowly she ran her finger over it, repeating the pattern and seeing the slave made a gesture to grab her wrist and take her hand away. “Freeze! Don't move. One move and I'll unleash my guardsmen on you. What's wrong, don't you like it? Huh?”

The palm of her hand stroked his cheek. The prickly one. Then shoulders. Tense. Then the rib cage again. Covered with thin scars. There were so many new sensations here for her hands. He was sassing her, well, she was just an inexperienced girl in the carnal way, all right. But Rey knew how to make him remember her forever. Seal her image in him, make the dark eyes not laugh. He could have made a hundred women moan a hundred times before her with that husky, humbly-cocky "my mistress." He could do it after her when Snoke would sell the toy. But always, always Kylo Ren would remember her. As the girl who touched him. And always would long for her.

“I like it.” The man replied without mockery. No, not the man. A slave. Smiling a little, even a bit embarrassed. And taking a step closer. To make the touch even denser. Closed his eyes and tilted the head back.     

It felt good. These strokes on his body. Pleasurable to the point of pain in his chest. They were letting him forget so much. Relaxed him. They were arousing as her fingers ran down, tracing thoughtfully over the button and then down his pants. Rey covered the very obvious arousal with her palm, and watched the reaction. She was learning how to touch a man. Memorizing the reaction.    

Then she stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek. Pressing her body against his. Rubbing against him. Tantalizingly letting herself be felt. Not hiding her own anxious breathing.

“I'd go on, but you are not allowed. Gladiators before battle...are forbidden. They must be hungry in every sense. I would break that rule. In fact, that's why I came. I know you're the only one who allows yourself to run my route, and I wanted... well, you're not stupid. You understood my husband doesn't care about me, good for you. Understood and couldn't resist making fun of your mistress who came for a skillful caress. Therefore, you will be punished, and I... I think I will find another slave, more silent. And remain in your dreams. In the drops of fig juice on your lips. In the night dreams. In the phantom touches. Because you shouldn't have been cheeky, oh, you shouldn't. And now you can continue your run.”

Kylo stood thunderstruck, though, there was not a cloud around. Deprived of affection. But life as a slave had taught him not to change his face at the new blows of fate. He only wiped away the smile. Because he trusted that brave, bold girl, not the mistress who acted like everyone else.

“When you take another slave order to cut off his tongue, too. That way he won't say anything you don't like... and he won't need it anyway, many don't understand how to use it,” he blurted out, and then, twisting his arm, he took a handkerchief - unexpectedly clean - out of his pocket. “Here. Thank you. Thank you for the touch. But you'd better wipe your hands.”   

Rey was shaken by his simple "too." Ren was sure that after letting him go, she would order a punishment. The scrap of cloth was ignored. Smirking, she ran her hands over her own lips.

“Well, I'll touch myself at night with dirty hands. Know this,” and turning around, she was the first to return to her route. Totally disoriented. Making the music even louder so that it hurt her ears.   

Ben, on the other hand, just stood there. Knew he had to run, get on the route, but he stood. Enjoying the little he had. The evening chill ruffling his hair. It felt good. It almost felt good like this. With no one around. He could breathe without thinking about anything. And then he began to walk back to the guards who led him under their customary escort to the cage. The figs were no longer there.  

With his legs twisted under him and his naked back against the iron bars he waited for them to come for him. He knew he had been insolent more than he was allowed. He didn't mean to insult this girl, he just... he just wanted to flirt with her and not to be a nobody. When he met her on the route the man just jokingly, intimately teased her, as if to imply that her spouse didn't care and he did. To make her feel something she didn't have. The feeling of being wanted. That you are thought of. That you're wanted. Now he's going to pay for his foolishness with his tongue. The gladiator didn't need that, either. Because masters and slaves think differently. Where he saw the usual flirtations, Rey saw the inadmissible crossing of bounds. The ugliest thing was to realize that if he had been - you couldn't think of such things, especially before battle! - free, she would have taken it the right way. She would have meowed back playfully. It was a funny thing, but the masters had more restrictions than people like him.

But only slaves paid.   

Kylo was brave, even reckless, but he hated waiting for punishment like this. It was better to be injured in the combat or  while training, but the anticipation made him break into a cold sweat, and that was part of the punishment, too. It was an eerie moment when you listened for every rustle and noise. And you waited, endlessly waited, waited, waited. You wanted to go to sleep, but you still waited. Not to be caught unawares. You waited, and you hated yourself for the increased heartbeat because of worrying. This has been familiar since childhood. When you've been a slave this long, avoiding punishment hasn't been very successful.

He had a missing pinky toe on one foot and thin scars running down his ankles. When he was a child his first master used to play with whipping the legs of children who ran away too slowly. If they managed to bounce back far enough, they'd shoot a blaster at their legs. That's how Kylo learned to run very fast. And after the lost season Vader branded the young gladiator with a red-hot iron on his thigh. In public. So he wouldn't lose again. Hardening body and soul. And he was writhing in pain in front of a crowd of thousands, getting his panem et circenses*. In between these periods there were a lot going on. Whips, broken bones, hellish labor. Not that lonely nights the man wept over his lost finger, his lost freedom, or regretted the branding on his thigh that had helped him become invincible as a result. For the fear of that pain made him frantic, fierce, and ruthless. He was just used to everything. Oddly enough, but he also weaned from it. For the past few years Kylo Ren had become invincible, and they wanted him. Gamblers, amused by the stakes, wanted for their collections. Women.   

And suddenly... punishment again. Deserved. And not so much. During his gladiator life he had learned to accept besos para golpes**. He liked that very wording, read in a very ancient novel by some French writer. He liked it because it was familiar. Getting kissed for hitting, or rather after hitting. When the body bled and women kissed, thinking about themselves. Liked it also because in that old novel, in the chapter that had that ringing title, the monster became the king of jesters and was carried around Greve Square. So he was carried around the world's most famous place for public executions where medieval, not graceful, but crowd-favorite justice was administered. Receiving his besos para golpes in the arena where the corpse of a defeated enemy was still cooling, Kylo felt the same way. Blood was pouring out, and all around was la fête des fous*** where he was the king. Now it was the other way around. He needed to get hit for kissing. For the kisses with which he did not cover that beautiful honey-colored body. With a hint of figs. 

A new sensation. New and nasty.    

When he heard the guards heading toward his cage, he straightened up, but to his surprise, the guard just rattled the plate over the floor and walked away. Ben reached for the smell of food he wasn't supposed to have before the fight. Leaning over, almost poking his nose into the food, he realized that under the spicy, delicious-smelling - it made his stomach twist with hunger - rosemary sauce was tongue. An ordinary beef tongue. And next to it was a note.   

“Next time it will be yours.”   

The stunned man suddenly closed his eyes, and then proceeded to eat. The girl gave him one last warning, but still... still regretted it. Emphasizing that everything wasn't fucking right with her. An atypical mistress that tied him down harder. It would be better if she cut his tongue off, really, than... like this. All those touches and offerings. It awakened what was hidden behind cynicism. Everything that was taboo. Dreams. Unacceptable dreams.   

Rey, on the other hand, went to her husband's office after her run. Closing the doors, she climbed into his lap, rubbed her nose against his temple in a conciliatory manner. Almost like trying to tell “we yelled at each other a few hours ago and now it’s time to forget. I will forger about your lover's missteps, you - about the water for the slaves.” Looking into his eyes, she touched him the same way she'd touched Ren. Chest, cheek, collarbone, chest, below... no reaction. Snoke brushed her away as if he didn't realize he was being seduced.

“My darling, there's a lot to do. Have you seen the dress I bought you for tomorrow? The latest fashion on Coruscant?”   

Rey sighed sorrowfully. Instead of a dress she should have bandaged her breasts, worn men's pants, and asked to fuck her in the ass. Maybe then Snoke would have paid attention, though, it was unlikely. She couldn’t attract him.     

She stood up, and shrugged indifferently.

“Give it to Armitage. After all, he'd look more natural next to you in the arena than I would,” Rey walked out of the office, making no further attempt to get closer.    

In her bedroom, she didn't touch herself. She just curled up under the covers. Remembering the hot breath on her cheeks. Today she was in charge. Ren was confused. Right now Rey wasn't thinking about her little victory. Only about one thing - whether he was so invincible in the arena. He was defiant, but still... she was afraid to lose him.   

And on the table by the window were fruits of the fig tree. Cut, the juice was oozing out of them, unbitten. 

* - bread and circuses (Latin)

** - kisses for kicks (Spanish)

*** - the feast of madmen (French)

***

Fingers clenched the glass of sangria so that even Snoke looked at his young wife with surprise.

“I didn't think you cared that much about games,” he admitted. Rey didn't answer. She just sat there, unable to hear the roar of a stadium full of dignitaries from all over the galaxy. So dignified on the outside and bloodthirsty on the inside, otherwise, why were they attracted to such violent spectacles?   

Stretching her neck slightly, Rey stared at the arena. Didn't take her eyes off the cestus as if that could protect him. He looked like he came out of a picture, the girl looked at, studying the history of the Ancient World as a model of civilization. A massive, tall figure with no armor, as it was supposed to. Subligaculum and leather straps were covering his neck and one shoulder. He wasn't even wearing hand bracers, just cestuses on both arms. His outfit was very, very vulnerable. His head wasn't fully covered, only about ten percent of his torso were covered thanks to the bandages. Only his hands were covered which minimized the damage. But Kylo Ren didn't look defenseless against a two-sworded dimachaerus. On the contrary, there was a fury about him that could tear the arena to shreds, not just another gladiator. Watching him engage in the battle first, Rey understood why this man was so valuable.

Because he provided the maximum spectacle. Because he had no armor and his hands were bare. Because the chance of dying was high, and so it was more interesting to watch him fight for his life. He was almost like David who fought against Goliath, but had no sling, only his own strength and confidence. But there was no fear in him, unlike many others. Rey who had seen a dozen other fighters today sensed in them that innermost desire to survive, but this gladiator was powerful in his indifference to the price of victory. 

“He's good,” her husband said, turning to Hux. The latter, lazily playing with a grape, nodded, smiling contentedly. Rey, wishing he had either shoved the grape in one place or choked and died, snorted indignantly.

“Pointlessly expensive,” she reminded, not without a sarcastic quip.   

At that moment Kylo Ren, making some almost imperceptible movement, knocked one sword from the dimachaerus, and the stadium exhaled rapturously. Rey, on the other hand, sipped her sangria, trying to drink her worry away. Tonight's fights were some kind of public tryouts and demonstrations before the real start of the season. It was something every gladiator owner did to choose the one who would represent their master in the galactic arena for the entire season. Usually new gladiators were put up against middlings and weren’t released for big fights, but Kylo Ren's situation was different. Hux put him up against Snoke’s champion who finished second last year at the galactic season.

All because her husband wanted to show off an expensive toy and put him straight into the competition. Keeping such an expensive gladiator for indoor fights is an unaffordable luxury. Especially considering that during demonstrative off-season fights - where the owners actually sold and bought fighters - Kylo Ren defeated everyone. Yes. His fighting tactic was to kill, he left no wounded behind which meant he deprived her husband of the three gladiators which should have brought money to Snoke.

That's why his price was even higher. He had to work off all the losses, and therefore, enter the big arena. In case he defeated the dimachaerus, and judging by the blood, he would. In record time.

“And we sent him to carry stones. And we didn't give him any water. That's the way to treat very expensive things, isn't it?” The girl added very snidely, with that last phrase sounding a little more painful than it needed to be.   

She was, in fact, an expensive thing, too. And she too has not been treated as she should have been. It was as if the girl was trying to tell Snoke that he didn't appreciate what he had, preferring cheaper goods.

“No, they should be used as sex toys,” Hux grinned. Snoke, who'd heard from his lover the night before about his wife’s new - first! – whim, glanced at her curiously. Rey didn't even flash.

“He's very good in that role,” the girl replied calmly, trying not to remember the only cool sex of her life. Looking at the arena, she realized: cestus did everything with the same uncompromising attitude. Killing enemies, penetrating her body, dragging stones. It was as if everything was a struggle and nothing at the same time.

She rubbed her palms against her tightly clenched knees. Wanted him now more than ever. Like this. In that almost nakedness of hers. Let him push her to the wall with those strong, already bloody hands. Let him... let him... let him...

“Yeah?” Hux thoughtfully said, finally popping a grape into his mouth. “Maybe after the fight I'll entertain myself, too…”

“I'm afraid if he fucks you, you won't have anything to please my husband with,” Rey retorted evenly as Kylo landed crushing blows to strip his opponent of his second sword as well, the point of which had snagged his thigh slightly and blood trickled down it. “You don't think you can be... on top, do you?”   

This time Snoke's lover finally choked. Snoke suddenly smiled. Rey laughed. Without the slightest pity. Hux was an idiot if he thought he could fuck this gladiator who even in chains looked like the ruler of the world. Now, as he fought for his life, the girl wasn't watching a fight for some place, no. She saw with her own eyes how a disenfranchised slave ruled the stadium. She understood very well that Kylo Ren could finish the second gladiator off almost immediately, but he was winning the audience's admiration. Bathing in the shouts full of delight. Yes, cestus was a nobody. And yet it was a nobody that everyone was willing to worship. Because he was terrifying, and people were always willing to bow their heads to those they feared. And they were intoxicated by the fact that death - and Kylo Ren was the death - could be chained. And he could have broken the chain if he wanted to. But he have not.

He caressed her by the pool - deliberately unhurriedly in the same way. Prolonging the pleasure.   

She shuddered at the fact that the scenario was the same.

“What is his posthumous wish?” Rey inquired her guardsman. Every gladiator, going to his death, could leave an order. Or a message. Anything. Not that the masters had an obligation to fulfill a posthumous wish, but writing was not forbidden.

“He left no note,” her guard replied, and the girl cocked an eyebrow in surprise. Is he that self-confident? “But he did ask me to tell you “thank you” in words.” 

Rey smiled, straightening her skirts.   

Thank you. Not sorry, but thank you. Apparently, he appreciated the advantage of having a tongue over the fear of not having one. Good. And though she was angry with the slave's insolence, she liked it, too. Few dared talk to her, and Kylo Ren... well, she liked his company as much as the stadium liked his brutality.

When the gladiator was defeated, cestus threw his fist into the sky, blood was streaming down it, and then did a Roman salute. Snoke and Hux looked at each other. The stadium was whistling and clapping. Rey grinned. He was like one of those warriors on the Gérôme canvas that hung in her husband's office. In his gesture was that famous “Ave Caesar! Morituri te salutant”* only without the bowing. Kylo Ren scoffed, and no one heard.

Suddenly he turned his head, focusing his gaze only on her. He unmistakably found her, and subtly grinned. As if dedicating victory to her.

So proud. So strong. So dangerous.

Kylo could afford that smile. Not because of the victory, no. Or rather, because of another victory. Rey was here. And she was wearing gold like that first time. Glistening in the sun. Even her hair had a golden wreath in it.

She was shining like Nike. It would be his victory, for the girl - he knew it! Knew it! - never attended battles, and here...here she was dressed in the colors of first intimacy, and it could not have been a coincidence. She was here for him.

And he won to have Rey come to him. Again. To call for him and let.   

Snoke, at whom he was supposed to look, clapped his hands a couple of times, too, and silence reigned in the stadium. So absolute that Kylo could hear the excited breathing of his master's wife, though she was very far away.

“We grant you the right to represent us next season, Kylo Ren,” the man said, amplifying his voice with some kind of droid. Cestus could barely keep from smirking inappropriately. He wasn't granted it, he fought for it himself. And Snoke needed his victories. “Also from this day forward you will have conditions worthy of our champion.”  

Kylo put his fist to his chest. That was better. So the cage would be bigger and with closed walls. Perfect conditions to think of this man's wife the way he wanted. Delightful irony.   

Also Snoke, following the ancient tradition of fights, gave him a slave girl for the night. A young girl who was dragged into the arena. Frightened, trembling, she bowed down. Kylo glanced at Rey. She looked away at that moment as if she was more interested in the sangria. Thanking his master with a brief nod, the cestus kissed his terrified trophy, accompanied by enthusiastic crowd cheering, letting everyone fantasize what his cruelty would do to her in the night.

And only Rey didn't applaud. Crossing her arms over her chest, she didn't even smile. Kylo, on the other hand, watching her very intently, accepted kisses. Everything was back to normal. His golden rule of besos para golpes was working again. Only he wanted different kisses. Even if he had to die for them. He didn't care. He longed to torment only those lips that tasted like sweet figs. But he had a slave, and Rey had a status. It was a too complicated equation...  

* Hail Caesar! We Who Are about to Die Salute You

Chapter Text

A slave prefers a servant, a master prefers a master .

Aristotle

Kylo Ren was angry. Very angry. Very, very, very angry. Very, very, very, very angry. He could feel his whole lauded mask was cracking and he wasn't a slave right now. No. In that second he was a gladiator outside the arena, ready to explode. It was all because of her. It was because of Rey. Of his fucking mistress. Owner.    

She had robbed him of the prize he deserved. He had won it. Got it for the night. Rightfully. Prohibition hadn’t been said out loud, but when Kylo had found himself in his cage, washed off the sweat and blood, only bitterness had been left from the anticipation of mad sex for his "mansion" had been empty. The guard briefly - habitually – had muttered that today, in honor of the start of the season, the mistress - not Snoke! – was having a great entertainment, so his gift was taken away.   

By entertainment, of course, he meant an orgy.    

And in fact, the man understood that the entertainment was arranged by mistress in order to take away from him what little he was entitled to that night. For the past few months he had had almost nothing - no food, no sex. Only a handful of fruits, unfulfilled desires, and one more liter of water. A slave and a night with her was a reward for taking risks. Something that couldn't be taken away, but Rey broke that rule.    

Acted so... like masters. She herself, because of her high position, didn't want to have fun with a slave, though it was obvious he beckoned her. Well, not he. His body. Obviously. The girl resisted the primitive urge, but to take away even the measly rights he had was demeaning. If the mistress went on a diet, would he stop getting food, too?    

He didn't notice how easily that switch happened in his mind. That from being so wanted and an impossible dream for him, she only became a mistress. He didn’t remember her number among other mistresses. Because she turned out like everyone else. Allowed herself to be taken at her whims, not realizing that slaves had desires too. Simple. Primitive. Animalistic. To eat. To drink. To have sex. To breathe. To sleep. Yes, their lives belonged to those who bought them, but the slaves wanted their own little pleasures, too. After all, killing in the arena and dragging stones weren’t on any normal person's list of favorite things to do. Even if he wasn't free.    

Kylo looked around his cage dejectedly. The bitch hadn't even sent him figs. So demonstrative, primitive, and jealous revenge for that kiss. It was funny that this was the second time he'd found himself punished by her for kisses. First for daring to kiss his mistress herself, now for his young trophy. How delightful.    

The man, who had no further plans, sank to the floor with his legs curled up. He was deliberately thinking about something aloof, like what he would get for dinner tonight. He didn't really care if the meat was boiled or roasted, it was just easier that way. To lower himself to reflexes: eat-sleep-eat-fight. To not be angry, because anger was a very bad counselor. He. Needed. Cold. Mind. Kylo knew himself all too well. Knew how he could punch walls with anger, and his hands were his only chance for life. Cestus was supposed to keep them safe, so he only gritted his teeth, repeating to himself nonsense like "black salt, white pepper, spicy curry, smoked paprika, anise stars, cardamom grains.” It wasn't meditation or a number rhyme, he was just mentally adding the spices he loved to the unleavened food. But when he got to the golden turmeric he spit. It was a very fine line. Because that bitch's skin was the same color. It was like she was covered with a thin layer of turmeric and an edible gold. Interestingly, if you rubbed it with your finger or licked it off, what would be there? The softness and warmth of juicy figs, like he thought, or a soul as hard as stone?   

In fantasies he believed it would be softness, but Kylo knew all too well that slave traders and their trash had no souls at all. In principle. So if there was one thing his mistress had, it was cruelty and harshness that made him furious. Not for the fact that he was deprived of sex, but for the very fact that his legal right had been taken from him on her whim. And for the sense of helplessness he was feeling now, sitting in his cage.

When it was time for the long-awaited walk Kylo rose, but suddenly the guard said, with a wink, that he, too, was summoned for the entertainment in honor of his victory. And then the gladiator, who'd cooled off a bit, got really angry. He knew why she had called for him. Since she would not allow herself to be touched, it was only so that he could see how someone else had a beautiful, inaccessible to him, and most importantly, free body. How it would arch beneath some free lover of hers. Normally, if there were orgies after his victories, he could choose any woman, even a mistress, but this one clearly wouldn't allow herself to be touched or him to sleep with anyone.   

So such prospects made Kylo see red.    

To his great surprise, when the doors opened and Kylo felt the sweet smell of jasmine and debauchery, no guards followed him which meant only one thing: no orders had been given about him. That meant he could go inside, choose who he wanted, or join in, for instance. There was no prohibition against getting fucked, and now that seemed inconsistent with his thoughts. Then why did she call for him?    

The man was walking through a huge room styled like a Roman bathhouse. There was nothing out of the ordinary. In the center, as it should have been, a dozen actors, dressed as the Gods of Roman pantheon, were having sex. The scene looked elaborate and beautiful. It made Kylo laugh that Vesta, the most chaste of all the celestials, was fucked by two of them at the same time. Possibly by Vulcan and Pluto. And how they fucked her. The man was even enchanted for a moment. If he weren’t, as an invincible gladiator, superior to these actors, he would join in, because Vesta was beautiful and her mouth was free, but... no, he wasn't going to stoop down to their level. It was bad enough that he killed and bled for these... masters. And after his abstinence he didn't want a threesome or a quartet. He would find someone for his own use.   

He paused, taking the offered wine, which the winner was allowed today. He took a sip, and then grumbled a little - it was colder than it should have been, but apparently, that was the custom on hot Exegol, like on Tatooine. Pretending to drink, he was studying. Seemingly, he was called to the very beginning since almost all of the influential, eminent guests were dressed and had just begun to get closer looks. Only a couple of corners were occupied. In one of them Kylo saw the head of the stakes. Pressing the slave girl against the pillar, he fucked her, though he kept his eyes on the man who was getting blowjob from two blondes at the same time.    

He grinned.   

Yeah, some people were trying very hard to hide their inclinations. This bookmaker here was clearly not aroused by the gold chains jingling around his slave's waist with every thrust, no. It was obvious that he was visualizing fucking someone who had no idea about him. Such funny little dramas.    

Noting something in his head, Kylo moved around the bathhouse. He wasn't aroused yet, more like interested in everything that was going on. Noted that Snoke wasn't there, for instance. So she'd definitely set up the evening. Rey. Whom the gladiator finally found with his eyes.    

She was reclining against a purple empire style chaise lounge. Beautiful in her saffron-colored dress, the girl was clearly bored, though a couple of maids and... his slave girl sat at her feet. Rey did not participate in the orgy, but was watching the same scene with Vesta that interested Kylo. The picture must have turned her on. Was it for aesthetics or was she visualizing something similar with herself? If so, then why hadn’t the girl already been fucked from behind by two? After all, there were plenty of powerful men in these bathhouses with whom it was not shameful to indulge in entertainment, regardless of married status.    

And then he suddenly understood what he could not.   

Rey was alone. She was not part of the orgy. And he was alone since the slave girl had been taken. And what if his role was not to observe, but to participate? Not in the orgy. In her game. With him. A game that could have ended with both of them getting incredible satisfaction.

He didn't drink wine, but he held a goblet.

Skin the color of turmeric. Hair like coffee caramel. Warm to the touch, like red-hot rocks, and proud, like a glacier, most of which is hidden. Kylo was angry about this game, too confusing and complicated, but he didn't mind turning this sweet fig into confiture, heating it to just the right temperature until her moans would make passion crystallize into sugar. Sweet to the point of risking diabetes. 

T he gladiator turned around, and set his eyes on another scene, a little further away. Located closer to a large gathering of men. There three girls were pleasuring a young, curly-haired guy. Judging by the golden apple in the hands of the pretty boy, they were imitating the the Judgement of Paris when Hera, Athena and Aphrodite were fighting for the title of the fairest one in the most ancient way. As the boy reached out to hand the fruit to Aphrodite, Kylo suddenly came to life and, breaking the "script," yanked the golden fruit from his slender fingers. At the same time he casually stroked the actress’s cheek.

“Ah-ah-ah, Paris, you have chosen the wrong fairest one.” And tossing an apple up, he went to his mistress who managed to notice him, and watched with a certain curiosity in her cat-like eyes.   

“My lady,” he smiled, holding out the apple to her. Without adding anything else and, yes, without lowering his eyes. Cheekily undressing her with his gaze. Almost penetrating her. Did she desire him? Perfect, he desired her, too.

“Do you want to start a Trojan War, Ren?” The girl said, lazily lifting herself up, not touching the fruit. Smiling playfully, and thus ignoring a certain impertinence. She pointed to the seat next to her with her glance.    

Kylo, on the other hand, flicked the maids away, but gestured for his slave to stay, and sat down on the floor. Leaning his back against the handle of the chaise lounge, he thus found himself next to the half-lying girl, but without the compromising implication. His trophy crawled warily away. To Rey's feet. The man didn't mind. The girl - the young and frightened one here - didn't really interest him, though she might would have her own part to play. If his mistress would play the ice again that glowed with desire. It was so obvious that he could see the aroused, protruding nipples. The dress may not have been of transparent fabric, but the thinness of the silk gave his mistress away.

“I'd bring you seeds of pomegranate, but not everything is in my power,” his phrase was so stupefying that the girl's toes curled, and he noticed it. Comparing Rey to Persephone was as if to say that he, the grim Hades, wouldn't mind conquering her at least for a while. Take her for himself. Kidnap her.  

Satisfied with the effect, Kylo reached for the table and found a knife for the fruits. He slowly sliced an apple and ate it slowly right off the knife. The blade near his mouth mesmerized Rey. She swallowed.

“Isn't it for me?”

“No. We have already worked out that the apple is only the personification of you as the fairest one here, but we didn't agree that I would... share,” he flashed his dark eyes slyly, and ate another slice. Showing that he got the fairest thing today.

“I can see you're very brave.” She tried to get him back on the rails of decency and obedience, but today that starship was decayed from its orbit and bore a some sort of “Rebel” style name.

“You have been watching the fight, isn't it obvious?” The man raised an eyebrow, deliberately trying not to look at her now. Focusing only on the apple. An apple as golden as her skin. He was eating it, smearing his lips with candurin.

“Congratulations on your victory,” Rey said casually, as if she had just remembered it. She clutched her fingers together, not knowing where to put them. And she really wanted to bury them in his dark hair since the slave's head was at her chin level. How did he manage to look not like a wretched slave on the floor, but like a man who was resting?

“So I've already won?” Kylo gave Rey a quick - very quick - look. He grinned as he finished his meal. As if the conversation had only just taken an interesting turn for him.    

Their gazes met. Rey stared coldly. She looked at him with distaste. Because they both knew it wasn't about the arena, and yes, outside the battlefield he had won as well. After all, she was the one who, forgetting her pride, was jealous enough to organize an orgy just to have this slave come and take her. But now that he was here, beside her, even her lips went numb.    

Her whole body was numb, though the girl was feverish.

“Why do you fight so fiercely?” She asked. “You cannot be free, so what is the point of going to the arena and fighting? I mean, you are going to be killed sooner or later anyway. The gladiator's life is short.”   

Rey tried to speak harshly. As if to remind herself: in fact, she was talking to a mortal man. Gladiators didn't live to the age of thirty-five. Especially those who were so famous. They were killed anyway. The death of such champions was an event. That was why Kylo had an unenviable fate waiting for him.    

The man turned his head toward the fruit basket. He looked questioningly at Rey who poked her finger at the grapefruit.

“Do I have to come out and let myself be killed?” The man wondered. Actually, he understood the point of the question. Everyone who had the unenviable fate of becoming a gladiator for the public's pleasure had asked it. A life of pain and trauma. That's what awaited them. Or a quick death in the first fight. And each made a choice. “Every victory brings something. A bigger cage, better food...”

He wasn't going to share his soul. He spoke, grinning merrily. Today he had escaped which meant it was okay to grin.

“Women.”

“Yeah, them too,” Kylo nodded, looking at the bare ankles of his trophy. The maiden in the atmosphere of debauchery, amidst the groans and sex, relaxed a little. She watched with curiosity as the couple was kissing passionately, ready to give themselves to each other.    

Her lips quivered and the slave looked at Kylo differently. Not like in the arena. With curiosity. A little even flirtatious, lowering her eyelashes. As if asking: since you've come for me, when are you going to use your tonight’s right?   

To the girl's misfortune the gladiator came not for her, but for the one who did not want to admit her desires. He could care less, pick up the trophy and end it all, but who would prefer figs to another fruit? A simpler one.

“There's something about you not being in a hurry to take my husband's gift.”

“Gladiators don't fight to get a trophy,” he lazily cut the grapefruit in half, suffusing everything with aromas of bitterness. “But to conquer what they want. The ones they want.” The man was now staring into her eyes without looking away. “Is that a sufficient incentive to survive?”

“Sufficient, I suppose.” She took the outstretched citrus and the red juice ran down her wrists. Kylo, trying to melt this indecision of hers, reached out a little. Pressing his lips against the delicate skin. As if catching drops of juice so they wouldn't stain the upholstery, but actually counting her pulse. “But no one is conquered for one not so hard victory.”    

Her heart was pounding, but Rey tried to hold on, even though the words were beautiful. No one had ever told her they wanted her. Ever. And never looked at her like she was... not a trophy, not a bargain item, not a promising inheritance from her grandfather. No one won for her. Gardens were built on her behalf, receptions were held, fancy things were bought, but... nothing was done for her, and the young girl's heart  had so many dreams. So Rey resisted. She was protecting what she had already lost.

“Or is it simply that a slave is not supposed to want? He is only supposed to be given orders.” He said, quite indifferently, what was most likely holding the girl back. He bit off the segment of the grapefruit, and was chewing it with the bitter peel. Reassuring himself it was only the naringenin that was bitter, not his own truth.    

The girl nervously clutched her half of the fruit. The juice splashed in her eyes and made them watery. She couldn't say that she didn't want to order him around. And that for her his slavery was only a barrier, but not a shame.

“You must be more gentle, my mistress,” Kylo grinned. With his eyes. Warmly. He ran his finger over the peel of the grapefruit, which was warmed by her palms. “Fruits like gentle handling, only then do they bring out their flavor.”   

He gently took her wrist and guided Rey's hand. Forcing her to touch the pulp. “Feel it. This fruit is so ripe. Kissed by the sun. Sweet.” She felt the white pith under her fingers and what the fruit was made of. So inviting and ruby inside. “It is so healthy. And it's just waiting to give this healthiness away. You don't have to take the knife. Nature didn't intend it that way.”    

Rey thought he would now help her separate the segment from the peel, but Kylo brought her finger to the middle, after that he pressed on her knuckle, forcing it to plunge inside. Into the heart of the sun. Then he made a motion to get her finger out, and then pushed it back into the pulp.

“You. Simply. Must. Feel.” Seeing that the girl was picking up on some sort of indecency, Kylo said insistently. Rey let him. Let him hold her wrist and dip her finger into the fruit, making her shiver. For a moment they froze. “Curl your finger. Learn it from the inside. And now taste it.”

Ray licked her finger. It was amazing. Not only did her tongue explode with heat and sweetness, but her lower abdomen as well. It was as if she'd put her own desire in her mouth. Or his desire.

“You see, without a knife everything is better. Everything designed by nature is beautiful. All natural processes and impulses are too... beautiful. Isn't that right, baby?” He glanced at the slave girl who watched as the two of them unbelievably sensual fucked the grapefruit. Then she shifted her gaze to Kylo and nodded. “Why hold yourself back when you want something?”   

The girl - not Rey, but the other one - perked up. The question sounded like an order. In her years of slavery she had learned phrases where the question mark meant nothing. But now she didn't mind. Smiling playfully, she lowered one strap of her dress, but did not touch her breasts with swollen nipple. Pulling back so that both Rey and Kylo could see her, she looked past them, where three men and two girls were doing things that took breath away. So she spread her knees not so much because she was ordered to, but because she wished she could be like this. Be on her knees like that blond girl, with the other girl's lips beneath her. And that at the same time she would be bent over a little and roughly fucked. The picture was so hot that her fingers ran down on their own and she began to rub her clit in the rhythm of someone else's orgy. At the same time she squeezed her naked breasts.   

Strangely enough, Kylo knew exactly why she was actively fondling herself. Not so much because of arousal, but more because of the fact that in the cage she was not allowed to do such things, which meant the girl was just catching an opportunity to get to know her body better. Each of them, slaves, wanted to relax, too, and there was very little chance of that, so... so, yes, it made sense. They didn't even have the right to have pleasure when they wanted it. They had to... adapt, and the Universe saw, she tried very hard to take more. Her fingers were even trembling.    

Which was good for Kylo. It was the sight of it that helped Rey relax. To surrender to lust, to forget all contradictions.

“Isn't that right, my mistress? All such people, following their desires, are incredibly good the moment they... enter them.” He did not look at the girl. But he was looking at Rey, whose arms were tense. The gladiator touched her ankle, barely perceptibly. He was stroking it. The girl flinched. Kylo wanted to take his hand away, but suddenly she shook her head violently.

“Yes, they are,” she exhaled, barely breathing, and that was permission. Permission for Kylo to slide his palm between her legs and touch her heat. Not to caress her, but to enter with his fingers. As if resuming what had been interrupted.  

To enter and burn them with her hot desire. The slave, repeating Kylo's motion, plunged her fingers into herself and whimpered because they were too short. But Rey smiled blissfully. Feeling some sort of connection to reality from the fact that Kylo was so skillful and attentive, she jerked toward him, riding his fingers. She emitted a low moan against the man's lips that sent shivers down his spine. Her responsiveness was incredible, and they hadn't done anything yet.

“I... you... you won today in the arena, and I took your prize. Do you think I could... make it up to you?” The girl wrapped her arms around the slave's neck almost directly saying “I, I, I, I, I want to be your trophy, do what you want with me, just do it.”

“I would be honored,” he pulled his fingers out, and picked her up. She was a mistress, after all. And he wanted her so badly. Not in front of the whole world. So the girl could finally relax and feel the bliss she craved. “Babe, go join that quintet, they're obviously missing one more girl, finish your solo act.”    

He was giving the slave the amazing opportunity to choose who she wanted and how she wanted it. A rare luck. Especially for girls. Their unwilling position was much worse. In fact, men didn't care who, as long as they were inside, but girls... yes, it was harder for them when they didn't like their partner.   

Letting go of his gift, he cradled something more valuable, that immediately snuggled up to him. Since this wasn't his first time in orgies, he knew there were private rooms. There always were. All aristocrats liked to watch, but not all of them took pleasure in been watched.

“To the left,” Rey prompted him. She was light like a dream. And she smelled like a colored dream. Like cleanliness, clouds, crisp sheets, cool water and freshly cut grass. All the most inaccessible joys of life.    

Turning left and diving into a maze of human passions in various poses, Kylo carried his prize, feeling a pleasant tingle in the back of his head, then suddenly grinned as there were guardsmen in red standing near one of those hidden nooks. Rey's guards. She had planned this retreat in advance. Maybe she did not really believe in the possibility of giving herself to a slave more thoroughly, but she had prepared nonetheless. It was... flattering, because there was forethought in everything, not spontaneity.      

The guardsmen didn't even move as they passed by and the scarlet curtains closed behind them. He lowered his delightful cargo onto some sort of dais, with purple blankets and ruby cushions piled on it. He chuckled to himself. It amused him that in these closed "rooms" this architectural creation was just above his knee. That was the perfect height for slaves to sink to the floor to please their masters. The inequality was apparent even here.

Rey, on the other hand, didn't even seem to think about it. She sat down on her knees and smiled playfully at him. In a few minutes she'd been in his arms, she'd blushed. It was like pomegranate juice showed through the skin on her face. A face painted in anticipation. Feeling the tightness in his pants, Kylo looked at the ruby lips and suddenly wished he'd taken a slave instead of mistress. She wouldn't be sitting there, squinting her eyes like that by this time. He would have found a use for her ajar mouth.    

But he couldn’t do it with this trophy here. Alas.   

The girl, unaware of his thoughts, reached for the vase full of fruits. Taking a grape, she lifted herself up to reach her gladiator. This time he said nothing when her palm came down on his shoulder. Seeing that she was trying to draw him into the game, Kylo leaned in slightly to catch the perfectly rounded fruit with his lips, and lowered his gaze to where he saw her swollen nipples. Through the silk.

He tightened lips, as if imagining them rather than the grape, while caressing the thin fingers with his tongue. Rey fidgeted, smiling. Her gaze... no, it didn't darken. It glowed. At this moment, a little disheveled, she looked very content, and suddenly Kylo felt uncomfortable for a second. Looking at the girl who was enjoying a playful flirtation, he knew what was expected of him. Just as those actors played gods, so he had a part to play. He didn't need to be a slave following his mistress’ orders to "have sex with me," no. Rey expected him to pretend like they were lovers reveling in the intimacy.   

Biting lightly on Rey's fingers, he lowered his palm to the girl's chest. Touching, squeezing, watching. Understanding absolutely nothing. Yes, of course, he realized that this beautiful creature was deprived of her spouse's attention for obvious reasons. Just as he knew the well-known fact that the granddaughter of the cruelest and richest slave trader did not allow slaves in her bed. But why didn't she have a lover? Until this very moment Kylo was absolutely certain that the girl had plenty of them, and that all her resistance to him was merely the result of his slave status. She was disgusted by being attracted to someone she normally wouldn't even consider human.     

Instrumentum vocale, nothing more.  It was not for nothing that slaves were known as such in Rome.    

And now as she flirted with him, as she set herself up for his caress, and tried to catch his gaze, reality took on a different tinge. Loneliness. She was lonely in general. She knew no husband, no lovers. But why had she chosen a slave and expected the behavior of a man who was... well, at least interested in her and not in the beautiful body he was already slowly exposing for himself, undoing the belt on her dress.     

There was nothing but glints of gold underneath.  

“Beautiful,” he said admiringly, finally swallowing a grape. He saw her cheeks flush even more, and then – thank Gods - it all became clear.    

The young, naїve heart had fallen for him. Palpatine's granddaughter fell in love with a slave. How indecent it was, how scandalous. That's why she, who didn't have affairs on the side, repulsed him as well. That’s why she blushed with every touch, while obeying his non-verbal commands. Rey didn't want him, no. Mistress was in love.

It was not clear how or why. She fell in love. And that made it so simple, because it was so easy to take root in a lonely heart.    

Dipping his finger into a bowl of honey, Kylo placed a sweet, amber drop on her nipple, and then pressed his lips to it, making the girl flinch. Well, yes, figs matched perfectly with honey. A sweet combination. For a gourmet. And if you raised the temperature, it would be divine. As he was massaging her breasts, he was enjoying the way her fingers were frantically clinging to the fabric of her dress. He was curious, hadn't her husband touched her at all, even during compelled sex? Never wanted to feel the soft skin? Even for once?

“You've been very quiet.” Rey felt as if her heart was beating against her ribs so loudly that it became indecent. She shouldn't have been trembling with joy like that. He was just a slave, after all. A slave, that's all. No more than that.

“I don't want to lose my tongue,” Kylo replied simply, pressing on her chest a little harder. The girl groaned. She was always sensitive at this time of the month. Fucking hormonal malfunction and here, because of mastodynia the girl refused to wear bras during this period, and now it was suddenly painfully good. Swollen, hot breasts for the first time served as a source of pleasure, not pain. Slave must have known something, whether it was women or physiology or just coincidence, but he took ice out of the bucket and ran it over her areola. Bringing relief, cooling down. Then squeezing again with his fingers, making her moan miserably at the strange mixture of sensations. Never had the pain been so welcome, seasoned with pleasure. “I can use my tongue today, my mistress,” Kylo promised hotly, leaning towards her ear.    

Rey almost spread her knees that very second.    

Then she cursed. Losing interest in the ice, the slave took a fig from the fruit vase.   

“Do you want one?” It seemed like a simple question.

“I do.” It seemed like a simple answer.   

And so much hidden meaning in everything. No one wanted fruits until they were shivering and their lips were dry. Only people wanted, desired, craved so much.

“You have to know how to properly... consume it.” The man said, placing the fruit in Rey's palm. “I will teach you. All you have to do is repeat exactly what I say, and the pleasure is guaranteed.”    

The girl, who had once seen the passion Kylo felt for figs, was certain he knew how to do it, and so she braced herself for some impertinent advice, but suddenly the slave pulled her closer to the edge of the dais.     

He crouched down.     

At that second it seemed to Rey that the fruit she was still holding in her sweaty palm was somehow stuck in her throat, and when the slave touched her knee with his lips, she held her breath. He was doing exactly what she wanted most. The girl had visualized this episode so often that if Ren didn't thought of it today, she would order it, though, of course, she wanted it willingly.    

Tonight would be consensual and without stupid rules. No one saw them. They could do anything. Even touching him was allowed, and Rey took advantage of it, stroking the dark hair with her free hand. Burying her fingers in it. Tugging a little impatiently, which made the slave laugh. Quietly. Not maliciously.

“Lips, my mistress, put it to your lips. Bite the skin with your lips and let the juice gush into your mouth, so that the taste literally soaks into your tongue,” he advised, and then he pressed his lips to her clit. The girl, who only had time to take a bite of the fig, never exhaled. She was numb.   

Kylo wasn't. Outwardly he didn't move, but his tongue actively ran down and up a few times. He thought that yes, this girl did taste like honey and the fruits of the most expensive and capricious trees. Sweet. Very sweet. Lingering. And very, very ripe. He only had to touch her with the tip of his tongue, and she responded. It was as if a thin partition had burst, as it was with figs, and all the unspent emotion found an outlet.    

The man looked up for a second.

“My mistress, don't cheat. You must try to repeat. Simply. Penetrate. With your tongue. There. Taste the pulp. Suck it. Enjoy it. Okay?” He said it even softly somehow, but the girl had goosebumps the size of pomegranate seeds. Kylo calmly listed all the things he planned to do to her and sounded... menacing. She wanted to... try it quickly, and so Rey opened her lips, pressed the fig to them, and slid her tongue inside the fruit.     

The pulp was warm and supple.     

Kylo had the same thoughts as he pushed his tongue into her vagina. It was warm and supple. Studying her from the inside, he watched her diligently repeating commands, and it turned on him. Juice dripped down her chin. It looked delicious. He wanted to get up and lick it off, but there was also... something to enthrall himself with.    

The girl, who was experiencing such pleasure for the first time, furiously finished the fig with her tongue, hoping that Kylo would increase the pace as well. She moaned impatiently, but the man patiently kept his rhythm, making her just drip with desire down there. And indecipherably moan. Somewhere almost into a fig jam or puree. What did she turn the fruit into.

“How often do you... eat it like that?” Finally Rey succumbed to her reflexes and started breathing. Kylo stood up, licked his lips demonstratively, and then leaned down to lick off the remaining juice on her chin with his tongue. Mistress. His owner. The girl in love. It was intimate because it was like he had kissed her.

“Every time I think of you,” he replied, and it seemed like she just had a moral orgasm. Learning over and over again that it was possible to want her. “Every time you looked past.”    

He took off his shirt and began unbuttoning his pants, settled between her knees. He wanted to get faster to where his tongue had been, but Rey suddenly dropped to her shoulder blades, showing that she didn't want to do it in the sitting position, and, therefore, inviting him closer to her.    

Sex in a horizontal position might not have been particularly pleasurable for a passionate man, but there was something special about it for a slave. At such a moment, rights were equalized, the slave and the free man were on the same level. Whether the girl did it deliberately or accidentally was irrelevant. It was the right move. She would become a good politician if those needed to win the commitment of the slaves.

Then it dawned on him. It was the only way she knew if she only had a husband. It was unlikely that a man who showed no interest in her tried a variety of positions. So Rey showed no loyalty, simply offered what she knew. On her back. No other way. At least she didn't blow out the candles, allowing to admire her. 

And then... then they no longer exchanged words or thoughts. Rey didn't wrap her arms or legs around him, not even the moment she spread her knees, letting him inside her. Their bodies didn't come into full contact, Kylo was keeping his weight on his elbows. They were joined at the most intimate point, but were, otherwise, very far apart, and yet...  he saw. With her gaze she was not only embracing him. With her gaze Rey caressed every inch of his body she could reach.    

But not all barriers were broken down quickly. Maybe even never.    

They only had this opportunity, and they clung to it. The girl gasped, Kylo, on the contrary, was breathing too fast. His muscles were tense, her - too relaxed. Her heart was almost bursting out of her chest, his was almost frozen with delight. Opposite in their reactions, nevertheless, they were on the same wavelength. Silent and taut as a string, ready to break at any wrong move.    

And then the girl snapped. It was impossible to feel him inside, but to be distant. Wrapping her arms and legs around Kylo, she pressed against him with her whole body, sniffing somewhere in the scar on his collarbone. Thin fingers were caressing his neck, lips were whispering a greedy “yes”. Too real, too sincere, too open.     

Mistakes could have cost her dearly, but Kylo put them off for later. He lay on his side, pressed her back against his chest, and kissing her shoulders and neck, entered the girl at a different angle. Rey didn’t think the position was comfortable, but... how keenly she felt Ren now. She felt as though his cock was pushing deeper inside her this way. Groaning, she threw back her head and demandingly moved his palms over her swollen breasts.    

It hurt a little and felt really, really, really good. It made her see stars.

Not particularly skilled and sexually spoiled girl would not last long, nor would a man who had not had sensual, real intimacy in quite a long time. Seeing in her eyes what she wanted, he turned the girl over on her back again, looking straight into her eyes, and abruptly came out of her.     

The moment Rey herself was gasping, trying to catch her breath.    

And then her lower abdomen, her velvety skin burned. He came on her gold. Rey lowered her eyes. She knew where she had chickened out, and what she shamelessly wanted. And she wanted him to know, too. But she didn't want to express it in words, so the girl stretched out her hand and found a strawberry.    Ripe. Bright. Huge.    

She was looking at him now. Not into his eyes. She lowered her eyes to the cock that Kylo was rubbing against her belly, sliding pleasantly. Enjoying the sight, she scooped up the white liquid with the berry and then licked it, closing her eyes.

The taste was new. Rich. Viscous. Slightly sweet. A little bit of bitterness. A hint of metal. Rey couldn't really tell if it felt good or not. Hot, for sure. In her mouth and... in general. Very hot. 

The girl swallowed. This unfamiliar newness slid into her stomach, burning everything around it. She almost groaned. It tasted good, so good. So good, in fact, that it made her want…

“More,” it sounded hoarse and somewhere in another universe. A hoarse and commanding voice.    

Rey seemed to have learned her lesson in handling berries and... him. She opened her eyes, and lowered her hand suddenly. Barely - on purpose! - without touching the head of his cock with her fingers, the girl began touching her clit, and with her other hand she scooped up the cum with the strawberry, and this time she ate the berry. The white on  her lips looked too intimate.

His marks. His marks on her lips.

“Damn it,” the man growled, feeling the heat rush through him. The girl, on the other hand, continued to tease. Beckoned him, and Kylo responded, entering her abruptly and fast all the way in. Then slowly pulling his cock out. Then pushing it back in. And she continued to enjoy the strawberry. “Damn.”

“If you will be a good boy, and win the next fight I'll take more than just strawberries in my mouth,” Rey promised suddenly. Now that they were together, she would promise anything in the world to keep Kylo fighting furiously for his life. So he wouldn't let himself be killed or hurt. In that moment the price didn't matter. And now that promise was the most accurate hit.    

Not because of a blow job.

Rey had just compromised herself. The lewd phrase sounded innocent. Exposing her fears. For him. She was afraid. Afraid of losing him. That's what the question about what he was fighting for was about. Not a mistress’ mockery who wanted to tease him. That question masked panic, Rey wanted to know he had enough motivation not to give up. He even wanted to hug her and forget all the complications for a second. Just a hug and a promise that he could handle it. He always did. To say thank you. There were a lot of people cheering for him in the arena, but no one was worried. Death would have caused annoyance about the lost wager, but here the proud granddaughter of a slave trader was ready to give him a blowjob on her knees. It was touching. Even for a cynic like him.    

And for the first time Kylo thought that besides the simplicity that Rey's crush brought to the equation, there was also complexity. It was this openness that could bribe even his indifferent armor-clad soul, and he couldn't lose his cool head. So he smiled, but the smile was distant, and he didn't react at all. He tried to look as if "you would not be the first mistress who exchanged herself for my life, you would not be the last”.   

The girl faded, not getting the effect she wanted. All the colors drained from her face, and she withdrew into herself. Abruptly she brought her knees together and sat up. Returning to a reality in which there was nothing. This man - handsome, strong, and very proud - had fucked her because that was the order. She knew the truth. He just had the good sense - or the slavish, forced fear - to do it in a talented way. Not like Snoke, but in fact... in fact, apparently, she was really worthless if she couldn't really light anyone up. Suddenly it hurt. Rey jerked, covered her shoulders with her own dress, and with her silence ordered him to leave. She finished her strawberries alone. Not dipping them anywhere. Semen on her stomach dried and unpleasantly tightened her skin. The girl wasn't paying attention. Nothing worked out. Nothing at all. She cursed, and threw the bowl of berries against the wall, then curled up right on the dais and fell asleep.    

The conclusion of the evening was rushed, and then in his cage Kylo clenched his fists and repeated to himself that he hated the slave traders, hated them, so he would do what had to be done to the end. But now...

“There is no “now”. No. There isn't and there won't be. Just a capricious bitch. Nothing more.”   

And he was right. The bitch or mistress was capricious. But that didn't take away that winning openness from her.

Chapter Text

chapter visual  -  https://pin.it/ey0avsd

In the law of the Twelve Tables in ancient Rome parents had the right to sell their children into slavery.

Snoke's laughter made Rey raise her eyebrows and look at her husband. He was eating while talking to Pryde over the comlink - the holographic image of him was blinking ghostly on the table and every time she had to reach for water, the girl was constantly dodging to keep her hand from going through her dearest spouse's best friend. But she made no comment, nor did she give away her displeasure. She was used to the fact that they never dined together. Usually during the meal Snoke would make contact with one of his friends to discuss either the details of some deal or - which was far more fun - battles. Rey was fine with the absence of Hux at the table, too.

For the first two months after the wedding the redhead was always there. In her place. She hadn't had time to enter the dining room and there was a lover sitting next to Snoke, peering into his mouth, devoid of a sense of proportion and shame. At first everything happened under the guise of solving the affairs of the day, then they stopped making excuses for her. Adapting to her marriage, Rey was silent at first, though she wasn't thrilled, but then she caught them in a very compromising situation and started the first scandal in their troubled married life. With a promise of divorce if her husband's lover went outside her spouse's bedroom. She didn't want to see him at the table, and since they weren't in ancient Rome, so beloved by many, she had the right to annul the marriage which was so beneficial to Snoke.

Since then Hux had disappeared. But holograms had appeared.

Well, fuck them. She'd come to terms with the fact that the conversations, as well as the sex, weren't really working out for them. Though it was hilarious to accept that because Rey was a well-read, educated, interesting girl, and she knew it. On Coruscant, where she'd spent ten years, she knew how to draw attention to herself at both diplomatic receptions and casual summer parties. And now she sat between the salt and pepper shakers as if she were the third in that set. A sugarbowl. A beautiful, porcelain, well-made sugarbowl. Every now and then you could dip a spoon  into it, and then jerk your hand back, remembering that sugar is not your favorite food product. Even... unhealthy. And you can pour cardamom, cinnamon, vanilla, ginger or mint into yourself - all the same, you're just a sugarbowl.

Ignoring the whole "meet me next week" arrangement, Rey who didn't have much of an appetite, reached for the asparagus. She liked purple, at most white, but only green ones were brought to Exegol, so she wasn't particularly eager to eat it. But she didn't want to sit and listen to other people's conversations, decorating the dining room with her unwanted presence either, so she pulled the dish to herself.

Her mind was somewhere very far away. She was thinking about what had happened a week ago, and what hadn't happened for all seven days. The sex with Kylo had been great. So vivid. Too bad it wasn't real, but still. Surprisingly, she was more comfortable naked and moaning, and with her legs spread under the slave than she was here, across the table, in a beautiful dress, from her own husband. Cestus seemed to understand her. Yes, he seemed to. Until a moment when she, while stupefied with his husky "more" and demanding, greedy gaze, made that promise, and then the slave mocked her naїve attempt to protect him with the twitching corner of his lips.

What a foolishness. As if the blowjob could protect anyone.

She was so sicked of the fact that one lip movement had ruined everything. So that Rey no longer sought him out or turned her head in the direction of the arena where training for the new phase of the competition, which was to take place in a couple of days, was underway. But sadly, not watching didn't mean forgetting. She was thinking about him most of the time. Thinking, dissolving each episode into molecules.

Trying to distract herself, Rey looked at the asparagus. Green, bright, beautiful. Grilled, which meant it was juicy. Probably cooked in her favorite parmesan-coconut sauce. With fried almond flakes on top. Such an exquisite dish. So light. 

Rey put a couple of  stalks on her plate and sliced one - the crunch was amazing, perfect - and was already bringing it to her mouth when she froze. She habitually picked a slice closer to the top and now watched the white, thick sauce dripping off the cone-shaped inflorescence. In mere seconds a blush rushed to her chicks. The color of which could rival with the red sangria in her glass. That scene was before her eyes again.  She's on her back. Her ears were all buzzing with the rush of ecstasy. He rested his elbows on her knees. Breathing heavily with his head lowered. His cock, still hard, is on her stomach and hot liquid drips from the tip onto her body.

A moment of weakness. A moment of wanting to taste what he, this Kylo Ren, tasted like. A moment she didn't use. She wanted to close her lips right on the source of pleasure. The moment she promised to fulfill even though she had no idea how to give a blowjob. A moment that Kylo Ren missed.

Panting heavily and fidgeting as she was feeling the warmth between her legs, the girl dipped the piece of asparagus into the white sauce again and finally sent it into her mouth. She didn't chew. Enjoying the hot, viscous dressing she began to gently suck on the stalk, touching the hard lump with the tip of her tongue. The sensation was so vivid that the girl almost groaned.

So that's how it felt. It felt good. 

Playing with the asparagus in her mouth, Rey imagined Kylo’s victory, and herself, fulfilling her promise. She was embarrassed by her lack of experience, but she'd seen slave girls giving Snoke blowjobs before their intimacy and her husband was turned on by it. She imagined tasting the head with her tongue like that, closing her lips, his cock pushing in her mouth and then everything is getting warm. With a metallic taste. She felt his strong hand in her hair, and perhaps a guttural “yes”.

At the last image Rey nearly choked on her asparagus and quickly gulped down the piece. After that she swallowed and reached for another, but heard her husband’s phrase. “Yeah, great idea to pit your champion against that Ren, come on, let’s do it.” Her romantic daydreams faded away, and her body suddenly felt as heavy as lead. There was no trace of her playful mood.

She had been keeping a perfect track of the fight schedule, and knew that Kylo Ren's next opponent was one of the Senator's secutors. Changing an opponent without a warning was a very bad, not at all funny as it seemed to Snoke, decision.

“Great idea to throw away our planet's annual budget to kiss your friend Pryde's  ass,” Rey rarely allowed herself such phrases or such a tone, but now she was angry, covering her fear for Kylo with a fear of big losses. After all he really cost a lot. A fabulous amount of money. And yet he was... priceless. Not as a gladiator. As a human. “Go on, pit cestus against a retiarius, have him stab your prized toy with his trident. Pride will be happy and you'll make an idiot of yourself.”

She was nervous. She slid a silver vase full of candied fruits toward herself, and picked out the first one she saw. She started eating it despite the nasty, spicy taste. Usually Rey hated ginger, but this time she felt nothing.

Snoke looked at his young wife in surprise. Usually she didn't care. “Retiarii are pit against secutores,” the girl reminded him.

“If this cestus wins, we not only get a great show, we get a lot of money,” Snoke  said excitedly. He had no common sense. Snoke was passionate about it, and Rey was just anxious. “If he loses... you know all my toys are insured. You have nothing to lose, my darling.”

Rey’s eyes flashed. She will lose everything.

“Pryde robbed me of two good gladiators last year, I want a little... revenge by taking away his champion. I'm sure Ren will be great. I mean he's incredibly strong. I must confess I've never seen anyone being so aggressive. A fantastic acquisition. So you don’t need to worry,” he smiled conciliatory. His wife's outburst pleased him unexpectedly. These outbursts were so rare, but they suited her surprisingly well. He glanced at her with interest. Sparkling eyes, loose strand of hair, crimson lips with a few white drops of sauce in the corners. She was good, stunningly good. His little wifey. “Put the male entertainment out of your mind. Let's go into the bedroom and play another game.”

Rey who was nervously chewing on her ginger, raised an eyebrow in surprise. What? He wanted her? Snoke? “You know, I have a headache.” She put thin fingers to her temples for a second, and then shook her head. Such a pity, such a pity. But the girl was tired of waiting, and didn't want him anymore. She didn't want that sex to the sound of an hour hand. Her body wanted only one thing. Cestus. Gladiator. Kylo Ren.

Snoke, not frustrated, shrugged his shoulders. Rey stood up, muttering that she needed to rest. And then she turned around, and picked up a candy bowl filled with candied fruits. She locked her bedroom door, stepped out on the balcony, and greedily watched Kylo’s workout. While sucking on a ginger candy. So oblong, hard, with a sharp taste. Rey was trying to convince herself that Kylo Ren was bound to win, and that the skill she'd learned would come in handy.

“Please,” she watched cestus delivering crushing blows to some sort of a training dummy, “please, please, please let him win, please”.

***

Kylo was brought to the almond garden, a small oasis filled with snowy petals. The first beautiful place the man had seen on Exegol. He immediately estimated how much those hundred trees, shielding the lords from the wretched, sun-scorched reality, had cost. And how many slaves had died of dehydration while watering the trees.

Rey, on whose orders he'd been dragged here, appeared almost immediately, much to the gladiator's surprise. For that impolite lack of response to her royal offer, she should have made him wait forever. Kylo was sure they would attach a chain to his collar and tie to some tree, so that the shade wouldn't fall on him, but no. Apparently, the young mistress's infatuation prevented her from being too cruel. Or maybe she didn't see him as a curious beast that was nice to keep on a chain.   

In any case, even the lack of waiting did not soften Kylo Ren's gloominess. He'd had a tough fight today. They played a dirty trick on him by pitting another opponent, and he even suffered a nasty wound. After the icy shower he'd asked for as a reward, most of all the gladiator wanted to stretch out on the floor of his cage, and finally fall asleep. His head was buzzing a little, but apparently the girl who had missed entertainment today - he involuntarily searched for her with his eyes! - decided to amuse herself with her slave away from prying eyes. It didn't matter to her whether he was tired or not. Slaves never had wishes. Only duties. First he pleased Rey’s husband with victory, now the girl decided it was her turn.   

And he liked it so much that since that orgy, she ignored him. It was... calmer like that. No unnecessary thoughts.  A cold mind, a stony heart, a firm resolve to get to the end. Kylo no longer allowed himself to dream about his mistress at night, nor did she spur his fantasies - there were no more figs either. Everything came to a state of relative equilibrium and now she appeared to him like a dream. On an almond afternoon. It was Shakespearean. In her silent footsteps he almost heard echoes of a certain tragedy. 

The man noted that the shackles had been removed as his mistress approached, and the guardsmen had moved further away than they should. Rubbing his wrists habitually, he looked at the girl who was shimmering in the sun like a glint on water. She was dressed in a silver dress, embroidered with what must have been a thousand stones, it was carelessly tied at the waist, the plume scared away the light, already fallen almond flowers and created the effect of winter that was coming to him. Riding on a snowstorm. This effect was enhanced by long transparent earrings, they were reminiscent of ice crystals chipped off an iceberg. And makeup done in blue-silver tones: it drew attention not so much to her eyelids as to her cheekbones. They'd picked up some kind of highlighter for her - Kylo had spent a long time trying to remember that word, which was so loved by upper-class women - with a first-snow glow effect, and now you could very carelessly cut yourself just by looking on this face. A dazzling, scaldingly cold beauty.

It was as if Rey had purposely removed all that liquid gold in which she had been bathed. There was nothing warm, and therefore, alive about her. Just ice. Only steel. Only jewels.

“Ren!” her voice sounded like the squeak of diamonds on glass. It shattered the air and Kylo thought he saw the blood that spurted from his cheek, though it was only his disappointment and weariness. Nothing more. In his mind he was figuring out how to fuck his mistress when she would give the order, as callously as possible so he wouldn't get caught up in this unnecessary love of hers. He should close his eyes. Because it's hard to have sex with a beautiful girl in a beautiful place, and not lose yourself.

“My Mistress.” Kylo said with a tilt of his head to express his respect. The girl came as close as possible. He liked that she didn't even reach up to his nose. There was something sweet about it. And dangerous. So easy to pick her up in his arms, and carry off into the sunset. Or where were they supposed to take them?

“A glorious victory.” She noted something new about him. His hands and fingers were bandaged the way boxers had fixed their knuckles before they put on their gloves. So he'd been dragged here straight out of training. They didn't let him rest. Or now, after two wins, he had the right to wear those bandages all the time.

Ren's life depended on the integrity of his hands. An unsurprising precaution. But it was creepy.

“Glad you're so enthusiastic,” the man replied indifferently. 

Rey gave him a quick glance, and then slid her hands down the button of his pants. Causing Kylo to raise an eyebrow. No 'seduce me' games this time? Had the girl suddenly grown up in a week?

“I promised to reward you if you win. Well, you can start enjoying your triumph,” the girl's voice sounded cold. Without anticipation or enthusiasm. She only wanted to be a woman of some sort, but honor. Funny, she didn't even realize that this very honor wasn't the attempt to give him a blowjob, but the very fact that she hadn't forgotten her word. Masters usually had short memories. And not keeping a promise to a slave... Kylo grinned. How many times his masters had promised him freedom at the end of the season, and he'd naїvely believed it so much that then phrases like “Are you crazy?” hurt unexpectedly. It broke his bones, his soul, his faith in a better.

He'd forgotten how to believe anyone, and suddenly his proud mistress was about to sink to her knees. Already descended from the pinnacle of her arrogance. Yes, no matter how much you paint yourself in the northern lights, if you fall in love, you are clear as glass.

“I'm grateful to you,” the man caught Rey by the elbow, holding her up. He didn't mind the girl breaking the rules. Would have enjoyed a clumsy blowjob and would have enjoyed not so much the caress, but having her like this, gasping for air. But. Too much. Too risky. Naїve intimacy could ruin everything. Ruin him. Rey, alas, wasn't a simple mistress whom would be nice to fuck in the mouth, hold on his lap, and enjoy her downfall.

There were too much things tied to her. And like an idiot he was throwing away his chance to get closer to her. In the name of nothing. Because of his own fear of not being able to stay on track later.

“You'll have your fun and then I'll be executed for something like this.” Kylo knew he was speaking rather harshly. Probably he wanted to cut off her further attempts at pleasing him. He was at risk of being lashed by the electric whip by the guardsmen right now so that he wouldn't get up until the next fight. “I fight every day in the arena for the right to live at least a week longer. I don't want to die for nothing.”

Rey looked up. To paraphrase an already not polite phrase, it sounded like 'your whims aren't worth the life I'm paying a high price for'. It made her uncomfortable. She really wanted – was practicing all this time on a fucking asparagus to the point of allergic itching - to pamper the one who was had such a hard time today. Her husband wanted to kill him in the name of some argument, so getting down on her knees, and orally satisfy him would be a small, but compensation. He could have made fun of her later. Instead he acted like a man who wanted to live. And not for her to take that right away from him.

“Then my promise is no longer valid in view of your stupidity,” she shrugged, and waved him away. “Dismissed.”

She was feeling bitter, but she knew how to keep her face. Even a slave was squeamish about her. She could command him to do anything, and she wanted him to... if not to smile, at least to relax a little. Unwind. That was the goal, but they didn't rest with people like her. The likes of her were either satisfied or... yeah, let him go back to his cage. It’s nicer there, probably. It's relatively safe.

“Have a good evening, my lady. You look very beautiful today.” Kylo said it honestly because he could see how even her soul, hidden beneath the silver, the stones, the soulless makeup, had lost its colors. As did notice the way her thin fingers trembled when she tried to undo the button on his pants. She was very vulnerable, very. Too young, too lonely if because of her inappropriate feelings, was acting... like this. Snoke should have looked after his wife better. Much better.

Rey didn't answer. Beautiful. What was the point.

She saw that Kylo had already turned around, and was on his way to the guards, so she took off the earrings that were pulling on her ears. She would have never worn them or the stupid cape dress in her life if she hadn't had to face Pryde and his creepy third wife whom she'd barely gotten rid of. The last thing she wanted was to look like ice, but what could she do?

Ice was armor of some kind, too. Undoing the belt, Rey finally took off the heavy cloak, the stones of which scratched her collarbones. Leaving herself in a light, cotton dress, she exhaled and sat down. Her husband and Pride were off to an orgy, her slave didn't want her willingly, there was no hurry. The evening didn’t go well, it wouldn't be the first time. She was a master at dealing with circumstances in the form of an unfulfilled plan. Rey had prepared a little picnic here, but no is no. She waved to the guardsman to bring her the basket that had been prepared, and began to pick the flowers in the palm of her hand, trying not to feel anything.

That's how Kylo saw her when he turned around while watching the guard. Kneeling, wearing a light, long dress, a loose dress, the sun shone through it, showing him a graceful silhouette. The white embroidery threaded through the fabric in some places, and one sleeve fell down, exposing her shoulder in thin - diamonds were heavy to wear - scratches. She was so fragile, and almost innocent in that almond solitude of hers that it took his breath away.

Was this how Snoke saw her in the mornings? Saw, and then was gone without even a kiss since he was getting so much attention?

He stepped toward the guardsman, who whipped his lash in a flash, and held out his hand. He showed that the hand was empty, and that carrying the master's baskets was a slave's hassle. The man, whose face was concealed by a red mask, nodded and gave him the basket. The whip flicked in the air again. A warning.

But even if that one had hit his shoulders, the insight would have burned harder. Mistress wasn't planning a "get it and get out" style blowjob. Everything here, from the almond garden covered in petals to the wicker basket, was for him. Not to celebrate a victory. She wanted to celebrate his life with him. To rejoice that he was still breathing. To give him a beautiful memory. Wanted it so much that when she got angry, she didn't give orders to fuck, for example, or punish him. She just needed to be with him.

“My  mistress.”

The girl, who was picking the biggest flowers, flinched in surprise, and then frowned  angrily.

“Did I not make myself clear? Out!”

“Perhaps I can be useful to you?” He tried to fix what had been messed up. Rey gave the slave a hard look. His face was tired, drained. Apparently, he didn't want to go back to his cage. Her company could be tolerated for the chance to breathe the cool, fresh air, and even sit in the shade that was beautifully woven from almond branches. So she didn't refuse. The black hooded tank top only absorbed the heat, and Kylo must have been feeling hot. Quickly she nodded at him to set her basket on the grass, and didn't indicate where to sit. She hadn't doubted Ren would choose a spot farther away, so she wasn't surprised when the slave didn't deceive her expectations. He sat down at a distance, bent his legs at the knees, and leaned his back against the trunk. “Thank you.”

He rarely had moments when he felt so peaceful. If he forgot the collar that was rubbing his neck to blisters, he could imagine he was on a date with this beautiful, stiffened from embarrassment girl. True, not a date he'd asked her out on, but a date she'd arranged. Not used to getting anything for nothing, especially from masters, Kylo felt a sort of rift inside him. If he had the freedom, even Rey's marriage wouldn't be a hindrance - the man would definitely ask her out. He would hold her hand so she wouldn't feel alone.

But in the relentless, albeit almond-strewn reality, he had no chance of a date. Rey could think of anything she wanted, but he was chained, and it was ruining everything. However, it was hard to deny that now, right now, it was peaceful here. The fatigue of a hard day slowly enveloped the man who was finally hiding from the sun.

The girl wasn’t looking at her slave because of embarrassment and continued to pick the perfect flowers, and when she dared, finally noticed that the man was dozing off. Just like that. Sitting up. Her small, unloved heart shrank to the size of an apricot seed, the sharp tip was scraping her ribs. He was so tired that just passed out. The invincible gladiator was tense, but, nevertheless, dozed off wrapped in a lace shade. The sun, breaking through the almond web, drew patterns on his face. Rey held her breath.

He seemed so handsome to her. So much so that, wanting to study him better, she cautiously crawled closer without disturbing Kylo's peace. There was a wrinkle between his eyebrows even in his sleep. A scar across his face. A mole on his cheek. A slightly crooked nose - it had probably been broken many times. Hands, not hidden by sleeves, were so strong, it could be felt. There was an invincibility to his injuries, an unease in his slightly heavy breathing. A flower fell off the branch and landed on his lip. The fragility against the background of a power looked touching. Rey reached out to remove the flower, but before she could touch it Kylo's eyes flew open, and her wrist found itself in an iron grip.

The girl who had managed to lean very close recoiled. The gaze was heavy. Scary. Intertwined with the way he gripped her wrist, like a snare until it hurt, it terrified Rey. It was as if she remembered that the gladiator in front of her was a gladiator who killed with his hands, and that all slaves hated their masters. It was a lesson she'd learned at five, and now, the sixteen years she'd lived, had somehow disappeared, pushing her into the abyss of fear. Chained by her own helplessness in front of the power that if let loose, was in no way admirable.

“My lady, forgive me,” he blinked and unclenched his fingers. He was always ready to get his throat slit in his sleep, so he reacted on reflexes, and now Rey was sitting up and cradling her hand which was now treacherously red.

“Don't you dare do that again!” the girl said smoothly, trying with all her might to keep her face, even though it hurt. And Kylo, watching her move back into her personal circle of light, understood why.

Her parents had been killed by rebellious slaves, and she miraculously survived. That was the reason why the girl surrounded herself only with servants. And all the more precious was her attitude towards him. Those little encounters where he wasn't wearing shackles. And the fact that just now Rey hadn't threatened to cut off his hands, even though it was well deserved. Slaves were executed for far lesser deeds. She just sat there, blinking frequently and cradling her hand. Silently. Processing, apparently.

“I wouldn't hurt you,” the man stroked her soothingly with words.

“Of course, you would have been killed.  Excruciatingly slowly.” Rey dryly snapped back, trying not to look at him, lest she saw the flash of death in his eyes. All the slaves had the same look in their eyes. A reminder: we hate you, and we will kill you at the first opportunity. She was playing dangerous games. They should have been stopped. But the slave gently moved toward her, and without asking lifted the lid of the basket. Without looking he pulled out what was always supposed to be there – a glass bottle of water. So cold that the light frost hadn't had time to melt.

“Not because of that. I'm a doomed man anyway, everyone knows that. It's just... You smell like jasmine and cardamom. That's my favorite scents. They are warm. I wouldn't dare break that. And fear has nothing to do with it. May I help you?” 

The girl – cautiously – held out a hand, and cestus, with the knowledge of a man who had more than once sustained hand injuries of varying severity, applied ice. He grinned.

“Such a cold makeup, and if you apply real ice, it's clear that you're as summery as sunsets that smell like saffron, and as golden as mango matcha. It's very beautiful. Even though I've never tasted it. Neither saffron nor matcha.” He said it without regret. Simply stated that her color symbolizes everything forbidden and unexplored. No one gives slaves expensive things. One only could dream for hours, trying to imagine the taste and understand - were they, these colored powders and legendary spices - worth human lives? More than once Kylo had seen slaves traded for them.

Indeed, he had. He was bought for three grams of saffron.  And a box of mango matcha as a gift. That's why he dreamt of it. All that luxury.

“But you seem to know a lot about spices.” She sounded surprised. Even suspicious.

“One of my masters was a spice dealer. Not the drug spice, but the usual stuff  like oregano, cinnamon, and all sorts of other goods.” Kylo grinned. Rey wouldn't believe it if he told her that his skin was golden like hers sometimes, too. From the spicy curry. And sometimes it looked tanned like he was basking in the sun. It was the color of smoked paprika. His entire short youth was saturated with the pungent aroma of the spices. The man even swallowed. A time when his growing body had been inhaling the smells and he had wanted to eat all the time. A time when he had learned to fight with the other slaves, taking away their extra plate of porridge. Simply because he was so hungry. Sometimes it worked, other times he got his nose broken. Everyone survived as best they could.

He carefully – he wasn't naturally very gentle - stroked where he'd injured her. Expressing regret. She wasn't trying to take anything away from him, she probably just wanted to touch. Maybe even stroke, taking advantage of the fact that no one, including himself, would see.

He lifted up his eyes to look at his mistress. Her lips were like pink quartz, and underneath that snowy highlighter she was blushing with excitement. It looked like specks of Himalayan salt. The one with a hint of morning dawn full of hope. Trying to dispel some of the longing that was provoked by his own impulse, Kylo, knowing he couldn't, leaned over and touched that quartz with his lips. Kissing it gently, gingerly. Giving perhaps what Rey was here for - something genuine, real. Even reverent. Born out of that touch.

The girl closed her eyes and leaned forward. Kylo placed his hand on the back of her neck. He was tasting not his mistress’ desire now, but her secrecy. With the flavor of fear and delight. Trembling like stretched threads. Thin as a spider's web. Touching her tongue with his tongue, Kylo thought he himself was receiving something new, unexplored, tender in return. He'd been kissed by so many women, but it was his first time been kissed by a woman who was in love with him. An unexpected sensation. Running his fingers through her hair, Kylo felt like he was diving into a lake of purest water – that was how one could describe this moment. A complete fucking immersion. With his eyes closed, lacking oxygen, with pounding heart, and... diving headlong.

Barely realizing it, he gently pulled away. He didn't apologize, so no one would have to make excuses, and destroy the moment. Just kissed her wrist with the marks from his fingers, he was surprised that he'd been lucky enough not to break her metacarpal bone. Kylo thought that this whole moment - the kiss of two people sitting on the grass in the intertwining shadows of trees, and drowning in the snow of petals – was too beautiful to be true.

But it was. So real that it got under his thick, hardened by blows skin. And Kylo denied it. Reminded himself that he hated all of them, all these masters. But he stumbled over her silhouette. Wondering if he could wish harm on her specifically. After all, she was guilty too. But did Rey's origins make her complicit? Yes, yes it did!

No one had abolished collective responsibility. Her beauty was a gift of nature, but that expensive aquamarine ring, the carelessly tossed cape. Even the hairpin which was holding back her lemon-caramel hair was the fruit of that tree of slavery that Palpatine had planted. Fruit that Rey was using without thinking. Of course, she was as guilty as anyone. To change his mind just because the abstract when considered had a heart would have been the greatest stupidity. Because it was impossible to write mistress’ infatuation off. Take away that feeling - and what will she be like in her pure emotions. Just like everyone else.

Still Kylo was aware that he thought otherwise. Beneath the overlay of denial was an uncomfortable truth. If her guilt was so unequivocal, then why was he taking care of her? Why didn't he take advantage of her crush to get closer? Why carefully pretended not to notice anything when she was an invaluable source of information which she could surrender while moaning under him in delight? How much objectivity was there in such a decision, and how long would he manage to keep distance? How soon would the young mistress’ affection become apparent to more than just him? How soon would the pressure begin to build?

After all, it is a crime not to take a chance.

“And how did you become a gladiator?” Rey was the first one to break silence. She removed her hand.

“Asthma,” Kylo responded briefly because the story wasn't funny. And its gloominess didn't suit this fragile garden. “I don't know if it was congenital or due to working with spices, but by my second year I was pretty much useless. Tried to hide it, but the masters have good noses for our weaknesses.”

He said “masters” so harshly that it made Rey feel uncomfortable. She shuddered. Reminded her once again that they all hated them. Instinctively. And that instinct had left a mark on her skin.

“No one likes broken things. I should have been killed. Just try to resell a slave like that. There's not much profit from it," the man shrugged indifferently. Three grams of saffron. Too high price. No workman, no profit. Master's anger was understandable. Losses. He'd become unprofitable. Worthless. “But on that day someone came to the planet who was buying slaves on the cheap for gladiator fights. There was no choice.”

“Lord Vader,” Rey whispered. Oh, yes, naturally, she knew who trained Kylo. Grandpa's best friend. Someone who bought thousands, but only a few survived, became the fiercest champions, and offset the cost. “I'm so sorry.”

“He saved my life,” Kylo replied stiffly. Of course, he wasn't naїve. Years of hard training had only made his hatred even stronger. Vader had brought him so much pain and bitterness. His entire body bore the marks of those horrible years, but he wasn't about to share his horrors with Rey. His weaknesses, which came in nightmares, Ren carefully concealed from everyone. The "whatever happened, happened" version existed for everyone without exception. Why would anyone know the humiliation a man can endure for the reward of a couple of cherished inhalations of a medicine? But he knew the value of every breath.

And what good would the truth do? The girl would fall in love even more. Out of compassion. Did they need it? He certainly didn't. She all the more so. All these love games with slaves ended very badly. Not for the masters. But for people like him.

Embarrassed Rey didn’t know what to add, and how to lighten the atmosphere. She looked in the basket and reached for her clipboard and pencil. Remembered something and smiled. Pulled out a transparent - still the same piece of ice - candy bowl filled with a dozen white macarons. She handed it to Kylo. He narrowed his eyes. The treat was expensive. He'd seen it many times, but certainly hadn't tasted it. It wasn't supposed to be for slaves, even invincible ones, so he'd always wanted one.

“I don't know, maybe you don't like sweets," she sounded uncertain. She didn't understand him. After he had turned down oral sex, she was still confused. Didn't know the right thing to do or offer.

“I like it very much,” Kylo admitted honestly, setting the candy bowl right on the emerald smoothness of the grass. “Stealing a couple of sugar cubes and carrying them in my mouth for half a day, enjoying them, was a major childhood prank.”

And a fear, yes. After all, when he had been caught stealing while at work – he had been beaten for a very long time. But the desire for sweets was always stronger than the pain, so time after time Kylo took the uneven cubes and hid them in his mouth.

“So, a forbidden fruit?” His words were far from been understood. Mentally she understood why he was stealing sugar, but in her reality... it was just sugar. The kind that was always on the table, but which was never added to tea because it wasn't healthy.

Rey wouldn't even think about trying to taste it in its pure form. And for someone else it turned out to be a priceless treat. A pleasure.

“Apparently so,” the man nodded, tasting the cookies. Almond and fig jam. Innocence and languor. An... unexpectedly calculated combination. Crunchy on the teeth and clingy to the palate. Delicious. Not like Rey's lips with those naїve feelings of hers, but still. “When I started winning, I always asked for sweets as a reward.”

Of course, after he had realized freedom wouldn’t be given. And when he didn't need the precious cure. Of course, no one spoiled him like Rey did, but sometimes he managed to get a pair of chocolate candies. With mint filling inside. Or even marshmallows. Lemon marshmallows. Airy, like clouds.

“Thank you. You're very generous.” He deliberately emphasized it, hoping the girl would understand that it was forbidden. She couldn’t let him be near, feed him by hand, sit side by side. That was forbidden. The risks were always very high. Not every slave was good at controlling his hatred.

But Rey wasn't paying attention. Dropping the selected flowers onto her dress, she began drawing them. Kylo, on the other hand, looked at the sandals, which were visible because the wind had thrown the dress slightly off her feet. Lilac ones. With butterflies on the toes and those threads - what were they called? - that encircled the ankle. He'd seen her gold shoes before. And now such innocence. This is really the kind of thing you should wear while walking on the almond clouds.

“Why exactly these trees? It's hard for them survive in this climate. Or do you like van Gogh?” Kylo didn't understand what she was drawing exactly, but who knows? The girl shook her head. She put aside her pencil and scooped up the petals. Some of the flowers that had fallen from the branches dropped on her head and tangled beautifully in her hair. The man didn't remove them. He was admiring.

“There is a very old legend, it originated in Spain, in the period when it was controlled by Muslims. One of the Sultan's most beloved concubines was from Granada, and when she was in the south she longed for the snow-covered peaks of her favourite mountains. She wanted to admire the familiar view so much that she began to pine for anguish. Sultan understood that there were no three and a half thousand meters peaks as in his beloved's native land. The Puig Major on their Balearic Islands did not even reach fifteen hundred and fifty, and so the snow on it was melting. So did the beautiful concubine. And then he ordered to plant all the tops with almond trees and when those blossomed the girl saw what she had dreamed of for so long. I love this fairy tale.”

Where Rey saw love, Kylo latched onto the word concubine. Where there was no freedom of choice did real feelings exist or did the cunning beauty turn the ruler's head, deliberately incited him to plant an entire almond forest in which rebels could hide, and not be too conspicuous on the bare rocks?

But perhaps his mind was too cynical.  One could see that the girl was telling the legend with fondness. Kylo knew that the mistress was from the planet Takodana where massive mountains towered among the greenery, piercing the heavens with their sharp, snow-capped peaks. Exegol was a challenge for her.

“Was this garden a gift from the master?” He guessed. Rey suddenly looked at Kylo with surprise, then shook her head.

“No, I ordered it planted myself. This planet is alien to me, so I used part of my inheritance to create my own personal sanctuary. There is not an ounce of slave labor here. It was created and cared for by hired workers.”

Four sentences, just four. And how much she told him. About her respect by inviting Kylo not only into a very private world, but one where there was nothing done by slaves that would have sickened him. And about her loneliness, hidden between those translucent petals. And of having to make dreams come true alone. Snoke apparently didn't crossed the boundaries of the marriage contract. Which envisaged a pool, but not an almond gust.

Apparently, the silence lingered because Rey turned back to her pencil.

“A slave trader's wife doesn't have much to do; I entertain myself as best as I can,” the girl explained, catching his gaze. “I take the nature’s beauty, and make some jewelry for myself - earrings, rims, bracelets or rings. I do embroidery on homemade dresses like this.” She ran her hands around her waist where Kylo had already noticed how pretty the white lilies looked on the white fabric. “Maybe it's stupid or not very skillfu1, but it... comforts me. I'm sorry, I know it sounds silly. I don't have any problems, but it's a hobby I've had since I was a kid. I used to make dresses for my dolls, and that's when it started.”

He bowed his head as he watched how the almond flowers were born under Rey's hand, she would turn them into a belt, maybe, and would wear it exclusively on her homemade dress, since she wasn't supposed to wear it at receptions. A naїve little hobby recognized by no one. Kylo could clearly see Snoke waving her off as she showed some of her earrings. And that phrase. Dolls. Too much meaning in one simple word. Giving off the fact that those dolls were her only friends growing up without her parents, but with a perpetually busy grandfather. No wonder Rey was so actively seeking involvement. Attention. She was clinging to him with her soul. After all, he was interested in her. He asked questions.  He was trying to get to know her.  He went further than he should have.

“What silly things we do when we're kids,” the girl was embarrassed by her revelation. But she caught herself. “Some of us sewed dresses or painted toy soldiers, didn't we?”

“I don't know. I didn't have any toy soldiers. My father sold me into slavery when I was barely four. Paid off his gambling debts.” He answered very harshly. Because he caught himself enjoying talking to her. Her heart hooked him, her words excited him. He should return to boundaries where today's meeting had begun. “Thanks to Ancient Rome and all the modern followers who chose the law of the Twelve Tables and the formula which stated that parents had the right to sell their children into slavery.”

To the ice floes that have melted away here for some reason. Let the mountains sprout again between them. Without almonds on the peaks.

“So early?” She dropped her pencil and reached involuntarily for Kylo. Found his hand. Rey didn't know that. From the man's demeanor, his level of education and audacity, she was sure he'd become a slave sometime after eighteen. She'd assumed he had been an impoverished, unlucky bastard, but not since he had been a child... “So you were almost never free, weren’t you?”

“Freedom is a relative term, my lady. Freedom is slavery, is it not?” He mocked her a little, mentally adding the famous "war is peace, ignorance is strength, and two plus two equals five.” He believed these words unconditionally not from the position of a slave, on the contrary. It seemed to him that his masters lived in another reality. Where their ignorance protected them, and their ignorance allowed them to feel like kings of the life, that they could dictate to the world two plus two is three or five? Doublethink played against themselves.

And he knew differently. That it was four. And that dictatorships are not infinite. And that apparent freedom is true slavery. Even though the beautiful mistress had no collar, she had nothing, but her own loneliness. Not even the right to do what she wanted.

“Yes. Freedom is slavery.” Kylo repeated.

“The object of power is power, Ren. The object of torture is torture.” Her gaze became cold. The naїve girl had succumbed to the blood of the slave traders within her. No, no, the doublethink seemed to have passed her by. This one knew for a fact that "one does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship". And did he really think she was innocent? Rey understood everything. Everything. “And no, slavery is slavery. With a leash around your neck, and freedom is... well maybe it's when a collar is tightened. Freedom is knowing where you're bound, but accepting it with dignity.”

Kylo smiled. That’s how she was, this girl. Being alone and wearing a white dress didn't make her any different. A true dictator's heiress. Who was just bored. Who would be disappointed in her first love, and become just like everyone else. She was aware of absolutely everything.

“Tell me, Ren, what is freedom? How much does two plus two equal?” This Rey was not only good-looking and, alas, tantalizingly touching. She was reading a lot, and paraphrased that very novel again. She was provoking him. 

The man wanted to say four, then looked down at his hands in purple elastic bandages. Felt the weight of the collar. Maybe for someone, really, it was freedom to say that two plus two equaled four, but not for him. Just a slave. Just a thing. A mere public amusement. Maybe when allowed he had to tell the truth, the rest would follow, but their dystopia was worse because it was real. He could say it. And therefore, get his lips lashed.

“As much as you command.” Obediently and hating this moment with all his soul, Kylo said then, when even his pulse picked four. He knew. Knew. Knew. But his freedom was slavery. Disgusting.

“Good...boy,” she patted him carelessly on the cheek. “That's what freedom is, Ren. That you can decide for yourself how much it is, and everyone will repeat it.”

“Ignorance is strength," Kylo agreed this second, already regretting not breaking her wrist. But he crossed his legs and sat more comfortably. After all. Shadow. The chill. Sweets. A good girl would be a luxury, and one that acted like this only helped him not to be deceived by sad eyes. “Your mission is to command, mine is to obey. So why haven't you ordered anything yet? Why am I here?”

He was cornering her. But oddly, Rey didn't even blush like the other time. Just looked at obedience with the look of someone who didn't expect otherwise.

“Until they become conscious they will never rebel,” she grinned with the corner of her lips. Kylo Ren was strong, and still helpless. A chained animal. He could count to infinity, but he would say what was allowed. What she would let him. It wasn't satisfying, it made her angry. She wanted to hear four. Wanted him to show: with her he liked telling the truth. But he hid the insolence under the bandages. He was chewing macarons, and Rey didn't even understand: was he enjoying it, or was he repeating what he needed to, lest he be punished? All of these correct, protocol answers only shattered the illusion that their conversation was sincere.

“And until after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious. We always say that. That's what our power based on. Even our undercover mercenaries use those words as a password, exchanging different parts of the phrase. Doublethink as a form of power.”

“Did I kiss you that badly?” Kylo changed the subject abruptly. Dark eyes flashed and the man's entire face turned pale, becoming more withdrawn and gloomier. A flash of rage lit up everything around him, and then the world faded. All that was left was silence in which you could hear the almond flowers falling. Disturbed by someone else's anger. “You give me the passwords on purpose, so that when some mercenary gets caught, you can blame me? What hadn’t I done when you had ordered, that you try to kill me?”

He was... shocked. Taken aback. Dumbfounded. He said one thing, but his soul was filled with doom. From the inconsistency. Rey said words... so dangerous and necessary, for which many would sell their souls. The access keys. Needed for so long. By saying them she was giving him a priceless opportunity, but burying herself. If it suddenly became clear who gave out these passwords, she would not live. Her own would not forgive such an oversight. Why, why, why would she talk to him so openly? Why deny him the opportunity to keep her out of it? It was easier to think that mistress was just a silly, pretty wrapper rather than a treasure trove of clues and passwords.

Kylo caught himself. Rey shuddered. The girl didn't want the slave to think like that, as if she had a goal to frame him and kill him in the most painful of ways. Especially because of a kiss. The best one of her life. She hadn't been kissed like that. Without asking. Stroking her. Almost embracing.  Why would she want him dead?

Maybe she wished just freedom for him. To dream - there Ren would have liked her. Though the truth was different. If he had the impossible freedom, he wouldn't be sitting here with the granddaughter and the wife of a slave traders’. He would prefer someone else. Like everyone else ended up preferring.

“You need new bandages,” she said quietly. Just to get away from the subject. Only now she noticed that these, the purple ones, are already very old. Shabby. A little dusty. In some places they were worn-out, which meant they didn't fit properly. She could see that the slave used them a lot. He was clinging to life. All his thirst was evident in these bandages, which didn't help much, but Kylo wrapped them up anyway. No wonder he flared up. Fighting for the right to last a little longer every week, and she kind of devalued everything. “I'm not trying to kill you. You... understand everything. You see everything.”

The girl gently placed her fragile palm in his huge one. Kylo didn't squeeze her wrist. Didn't respond. And she stared without blinking, putting her heart there as well. Telling about what Kylo saw. Hiding nothing. Putting up a very strong argument against his suspicion.

“Do I understand that I need new bandages? Yes. Of course. The master promised to give them for the next victory.” His life was cheap. He was used to it. Like he was used to playing the fool. As he was now. Criminally ignoring the opportunity. Wounding this girl. After all, Rey already knew he wasn't exactly a moron, which meant he was purposely pretending not to understand. Rejecting the gift of sympathy or falling in love.

Which, pale as she was, she tried to confess, only why?

“You need more than just bandages.” Rey sighed, not the least bit surprised.  He wasn't interested in her. It was okay. But she had to say this. To let Kylo know she had no intention of killing. Just to love him. And to try to ease his fate. He wouldn't have to ask for anything. She had already made a list in her head.

Sweets. Bandages. Fruits. Asthma medications. That last one was a must! She already had imagined how many times in the arena Ren must have been gasping, trying to win, to breathe. It was a terrible feeling.

Every encounter told her a little bit about him. Rey kept in mind everything.

“Whatever I need I'm used to getting in the arena.” Kylo reacted sharply, realizing where the conversation was leading. Knowing what needed to be done, Kylo didn't want to be beholden to this girl who would do something not because she felt injustice, but out of love. Feelings should not serve as an excuse in the court of conscience. “After all, isn’t that the essence of slavery?”

The girl was silent for a moment. He was proud, but she was cunning. She would figure out how to help. Even if she had to give medications for every possible disease to the rest of the slaves. She would let him swagger for as long as it suited him, as long as he breathed. Pretending she wasn't offended, that it wasn't her first love that was traded for bandages in the dialogue, Rey shrugged.

“I wasn't going to give you anything. You're a man. It's up to you to earn it. You're pretty good at this, Ren. But if you win, I'll gift the bracelet to you. I'll weave it myself and put it on your arm. An option?”

What seemed naїve and silly on the outside was more than that. “Gifting the bracelet” in their world meant marking. Taking off the collar and softening the terms of a stay a bit.

“Dressing up a new doll?” He bristled. Because the gift wasn't for free. Such trinkets usually marked personal toys. The ones you played with in the bed. “Your husband already gave me a collar, so let’s skip muzzle. I'm already on a leash.”

He narrowed his eyes. He was pushing her away, and pushing himself away.

Rey looked down at his neck. There, beneath the hated metal rim, she saw burns. This slave was insolent, and the warders often subdued him. She knew that. And she understood the aggressive reaction. But knowing and understanding were different things. Why to be proud when he had to survive. Why wouldn't he accept her protection? Yes, they'd consider him her entertainment, but it didn't matter. It would be a "no touching" signal to the guards.

“I thought you weren't stupid,” Rey pursed her lips. It was a paradox. She could give him everything in the world. He didn't want material things, but he could get protection, and he didn't even smile, only snapped back. Looking up from under his forehead. He looked so angry, it seemed that he was about to throw himself at her at the prospect of getting the bracelet that she had, in fact, not only weaved, but put in the basket. “To have pride is an inadmissible luxury in your circumstances.”

“But I being poor have only my dreams,” cestus said, smiling oddly. As if in denial that no, he had no pride. But it was easier to dream with a collar. Rey noticed that he hadn't finished the quote, hadn't stretched out his reveries at her feet. Kept them only to himself. He wasn't going to share them. What did gladiators dream about, she wondered? Victory? For they would not be free, only, alas, dead. In public view. To the hooting of the crowd, booing the shame of the fallen.

“My grandfather used to read Yeats to me at bedtime when I had chicken pox. I was twelve. Not the most appropriate reading for a child. That's probably why his poetry still gives me the itch and...” She looked up. Kylo didn't listen to her idle chatter. He stared past her with an unseeing gaze. Indeed. Why bother with her petty childish stories when he had a life full of his own dramas. At twelve he had nothing. Not even dreams. Silent, she began finishing drawing her almond flowers, leaving her slave alone at last. Let him eat his macarons and rest. After all, they hadn't agreed on a conversation. 

Too bad she couldn't surprise him with a blowjob after all. Rey, of course, knew it wouldn't be as good as the one that slave girls had given Snoke, but he would have enjoyed it. Would have relaxed a little, gotten a better look at her. Realized that for the entire conversation, even when he was insolent, she hadn't reached for her keychain to threaten him. She'd swallowed one harsh remark after another, to show him, even a little, that she wasn't his enemy. But... she was an enemy, after all, since she embodied all the things any slave hated.

He hated. 

The foundations and... her. Yes. While she was in love, Kylo Ren hated. So much that he considered accepting any mark of distinction as a disgrace, not a relief.

Kylo was eating almond biscuits. Had already eaten so many that he could no longer discern the subtle, playful taste of the confit that reminded him of kissing this beautiful girl. Figs. Almonds. A slight bitterness of the lemon zest was flirting with his tongue. Everything had erased. All that was left was the sweetness in his mouth. But he obeyed habit and ate whatever he was given. You never know when you'll get something like that again. It was better to overeat.

In fact, the ingenuous story didn’t go unnoticed. A lonely girl who was apparently bored so badly that she remembered such a meaningless episode. Apparently, her grandfather hadn't spoiled her with attention as a child since Yeats was sticked in her memory. He was almost sorry, but he left that feeling even beyond himself. She was swaying him as it was. That kiss, the almond garden, the butterflies on her sandals and "you understand everything." He understood everything. All too well. And her crush, and the impossibility of it all. His hands, though, were a little itchy in the palm area. He wanted to touch all that naїvety, but it was better... better this way. At a distance. Discreetly staring, snapping at any attempt to get to know him better, to get closer.

When she was done with her drawing, Rey began to put everything back in the basket. A clipboard, a pencil, an empty cookie jar. Not the kind of picnic she'd planned. Thought about... though, really, what was she thinking? That she'd buy him with a blowjob and some macarons? That she could have a nice chat and he'd forget he was a slave? They never forgot and they never lost themselves.

“Have you finished, my mistress?” Realizing that the time was up, Kylo quickly asked. The girl nodded. Her heart felt dark, as if the almond garden had frozen. She stood up, and began putting on her cloak. She noticed that the slave was sstill tanding, though she let him go with a swift movement of her hand.

“Dismissed,” she muttered, fighting with the hooks, but the slave was still motionless. “Did you forget something?”

“Aren’t there going to be any fruits?” It sounded mocking. Almost demanding. Rey even opened her mouth at such a phrase. She flashed. She usually paid with fruits for physical intimacy. Paid for it. And now Kylo had drawn the line so abruptly, painfully. While the girl thought at least some part of the conversation was… just conversation, he was waiting to be paid for it. Demonstrating - nothing just happened. He tolerated her for the shade, the cold, and the figs. It sounded especially bright and sharp after he said that he had needed nothing from her. Now since he asked the question, he sincerely thought he earned it.

He should have been denied. He should have been punished. But those were the rules she herself had established, so why be offended now?

“Here.” She took two trays out of the basket. One with figs. The other with strawberries. Giving away her guileless dreams. These fruits were closely associated with oral sex. Their oral sex. She had been planning a picnic, hoping... oh, how naїve she had been. It was so touching that Kylo became dreary. He, of course, poked her with that phrase on purpose, and all he got was loneliness, which Rey hid in two trays and some luscious fruits. “Don't restrain him. He's a cestus. He needs to take care of his hands,” she barked at the guards. She did not watch as the slave would mockingly curl his lips at the further display of affection toward him. 

It didn't matter. If his hands were his way of not dying, she wouldn't allow to put the shackles on again. After she had survived the fear of this fight, Rey didn't care what he thought. No longer bestowing the gladiator with a glance, the girl, accompanied by two guardsmen, made her way to the castle. She didn't lower her head, but her heart pounded sadly somewhere inside. Far away. A barely perceptible echo. Mocked and rejected, she swore she'd never see him again. To hell with it. But the resolve to help didn’t disappear. She reached her chambers, ordered the maid to summon her doctor immediately, and was discussing her fictitious migraine and the very real Kylo's asthma with him for about an hour. After listening to the almost unimplementable recommendations, she ordered not an inhalator, but a respimat, taking at the word that the delivery device there was better. After ordering the doctor to examine the gladiators in the morning, the girl cheered up a little. She knew Ren's condition would not be consolatory, but at least this way it was possible to determine the right dosages, the number of them per day, and take care of having enough medications.

“Respimat,” Rey was repeating the new word in a singsong voice. Of course, as someone who was ignorant of chronic diseases, she was sure that there was some kind of a shot, for instance. One injection every six months and no risks, but alas, medicine didn't deal with what the poor and slaves were sick with. Medicine left it to natural selection. It was far more profitable for modern pharmaceutical syndicates to develop useless migraine pills for rich senators' wives and those like her to take out of boredom. Or when their husbands were bored with their perpetual headaches. Well, Ren would have to inhale respimat fumes or how that worked.

The girl walked downstairs to her bedroom. The cloak quietly jingled with her every step. Involuntarily Rey froze at the window that overlooked the backyard. She walked by it at this time, always on purpose, and always sought him out with her eyes, this odd slave. She was allowing herself to admire him, unnoticed by anyone.

She could not control the way her gaze warmed, and her smile softly illuminated her face. A couple of times she had slammed into the glass. Occasionally, she had passed by if she hadn’t found cestus. That had happened more often. He had been trained almost all the time. Champion demand.

Now Kylo was in his usual spot - on the steps. The excited breathing of the girl in love even made the window mist up. She had to impatiently clean it with her sleeve, which made an unpleasant grinding sound as the stones scratched against the glass.

And then something similar happened to her heart. It felt like it was caught, ripped open by the edge of the multicolored jewel. Because there, next to Ren, the same slave girl was sitting a step below. Smiling, she was eating strawberries from Kylo's open palm while he was saying something. At one point the man fixed her hair, and they both laughed. And something stuck in Rey's throat. She had seen her husband with his lover so many times, even during sex, and it was the first time that it hurt so badly. Hugging herself with her arms, she stood there, watching.

Well, it became clear why cestus had turned down her pathetic - and dangerous - blowjob. It was unlikely she'd reach the slave girl skills. She was choking even on asparagus, trying to push it a little deeper. It wasn’t for her to pleasure a man who knew what a good blowjob was. And it began to make sense why he was so insistent on asking for strawberries. Not just to emphasize the commodity-money conversation - so expensive for Rey... - but also to please his... interestingly, what was it called among slaves? Friend? Girlfriend? Passion?

Officially it was forbidden for slaves to have a relationship, but in reality, masters often turned a blind eye to it if, for example, it concerned profitable gladiators. Which made Rey's heart pound, and she herself was torn between ordering him to be punished - but for what? - and to just walking away. Even better, she wanted to be the one to take the luscious, juicy berries from the palm of his hand. But all Kylo had left her was a bruise. Which hurt in her heart area, though it flaunted - hidden by a wide sleeve - on her wrist. 

She was greedily watching the girl eating fruits. All of them - the slave girl, Ren, and their mistress - knew what these strawberries promised. What hadn’t come true between she and Kylo in the midst of the almond garden. It wasn't for nothing that she'd brought... even invited... a gladiator to the most beautiful place that even Snoke wasn't allowed to go. Invited to her heart, showed her soul, and...

Rey shuddered, and took a quick step toward the bedroom. Lest anyone saw the tears glistening in her eyes, and when the girl was caught up by the maid carrying the evening fruits to her mistress, Rey unaccustomedly bellowed "out!" But before she could slam the door shut, she abruptly ordered to "give it to the slave." And named a specific one. Cestus. Let him receive double payment. He'll treat his... lady. He probably didn’t mock her with his coldness.

She shouldn't have let him get insolent, and have dialogues in such a tone with her. Next time - if they ran into each other - Kylo Ren would know who the mistress here was. And he would never dare giggle and sneer again. Finally convinced that she couldn't charm him, she decided not to hold out the almond branch again either. Climbing into bed, she tried to sleep. In her usual loneliness. Wrapped in silence. Not the kind that was common in well soundproofed rooms, no. The kind you'd find in bedrooms where no one needed you. 

Kylo, on the other hand, entered the cage, and sighed after finally being left alone. What a stupid day it was. He couldn't even sit and think. That slave girl he'd been given was crying quietly in the corner. Either someone had hurt her or she was hungry or tired. Gladiator gave her strawberries flavored with cheerful talk, though from inside his soul was scratched by claws of unknown to him reptiles. He wouldn't be able to enjoy it anyway. Saw with what pain mistress had given them to him. They were like shards of her broken heart - red, uneven, beautiful. Even he would have choked on them. But a slave girl who didn't know the berries background enjoyed them, and helped him not to think about all the things he really wanted to think about.

About whom he wanted to think.

Now he was both glad and unhappy with his locked cage. On the one hand he could finally look at the injuries he'd received, on the other... he kept coming back to his mistress, who was soiling his conscience with her purity. He concentrated on the other thing, and removed his frayed tank top with a slight groan. The retiarius had poked him twice with his trident in the arena today. So hard, in fact, that the doctor had to stitch him up after the fight.

Or rather roughly darned him. His masters had their wounds stitched up, the slaves were quickly repaired. Without anesthesia. A couple of stitches, some antiseptic and a band-aid, that was the cure. They didn't even give him painkillers for the evening, and Kylo wouldn't have minded. He was shaking slightly, and even before he'd removed one of the two sticky bits of tissue, he knew there were bacteria in the wound, and there wasn't much he could do to clean it. And he wouldn’t sleep comfortably, too. One of the wounds was on his side, the other on his back. He didn't like sleeping on his left side; his hand became numb for some reason. He would need to fall asleep in the sitting position. It wasn’t very comfortable to sleep on his stomach on the boards. 

He sighed heavily and began to untie his old bandages. He got up and washed them in the small, rusty sink, wasting what little water remained, but clean bandages were more necessary. He spread them on the floor to dry before morning and cursed. A second pair would have come in handy, but in the meantime, he'd have to get any, but new. These had been shabby for a while. The fabric had frayed in some places, and the velcro was no longer holding them in place. Ridiculous, but it was quite dangerous.

When the guards brought his dinner, he was surprised by the addition of strawberries to his unleavened meal. It seemed he had managed to offend her, and here we go again. Oh, poor, lonely girl. Why did she reach out to him, dooming both of them. As if he wouldn't be sick of himself without it.

He sat on the floor again and cursed. The wound hurt. He was sweating. But it was nothing compared to the pain of a young, innocent, fallen for the first time in love - he considered it - heart. He could repeat it a million times that Rey was as guilty as anyone, but he wasn’t any less sorry for her. All that a man could do was push her away like that, and then trust that time would help. It would heal. At least, that's what they said. What was good about falling in love was that when it was not reciprocated, it evaporated like moisture in the early sun.

It would be... safer for everyone.

The man ate his dinner quickly, then set the strawberries on his lap. Closed his eyes. The berry was like a kiss. Forbidden.  And so... so desirable, damn.  It was not for nothing that the fruits were forbidden. They awakened unwanted desires. Unnecessary. For how he would like to have it once with that girl, in that garden, thoughtlessly and sincerely... but next to these sweet dreams, in his head were very sober thoughts: until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious.