Pairings/Characters: Dick/Roy, Ollie/Dinah
Genres: AU, Slavefic
Warnings: Sexual comments and very suggestive dancing! ;)
Summary: During a special ceremony, Roy is enthralled by the entertainment.
Date Of Completion: April 18, 2011
Date Of Posting: April 18, 2011
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1137
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Written for my 2011 Slavefic AU Fic Prompt Request for ladyblkrose. Pairing: Master Roy/Slave Dick. Prompts: Gypsy, Ceremony, Sandalwood. :)
Hear us sing!
Let the dancer
Be a prancer
Sweet ‘n’ nice.
Roll the dice.
Old English Ballad
14th Century C.E.
Roy felt excitement trill through his body as the music played. Their tribe was lucky to have some talented musicians, players of lutes and drums and mandolins. He was dressed in his finest clothes, rich red silk vest and breeches, his feet in sandals instead of hiking boots. His red hair was neatly combed, and he wore the gold medallion set with an emerald that was the symbol of being Lord Oliver’s heir.
Of course, the days of castles and Court were gone, their land stolen by the invaders. Now they fought to take back their land, living in the forest and attacking soldiers and nobles of the hated occupiers.
Roy had fought well beside the older men, so well that he was respected by his adoptive parents’ archers. Now it was time to acknowledge his coming of age.
Lady Dinah wore a dress of green silk, far different from her battle tights and tunic. She fought beside her husband and son and was one of their finest warriors, skilled with the bow or in hand-to-hand combat.
Blond hair spilled over Dinah’s shoulders as she put a hand on Roy’s arm. “You will enjoy this ceremony, to be sure. You are a man now.”
Roy grinned. He soon would be, at any rate. He wondered whom Dinah and Ollie had selected for his first. He rubbed his arm, glad for the opportunity to take a bath scented with roses. The men had teased him but they were throwing themselves into the ceremony, which was simpler than it would have been at Court, but when one lived in the forest, you made do.
Ollie appeared, dressed in his forest-green robes, and clapped his hands. The music changed from sweet and lilting to something wild and passionate. Roy’s pulse quickened, his attention drawn to the circle parting and an incredible creature appearing, his naked body lithe and graceful as he glided to the center of the clearing, strands of tiny jewels wound around his arms and legs, crisscrossing his chest and back. He wore golden manacles on his wrists and ankles and a collar around his neck. His hair was black and shaggy and his eyes were a startling blue rimmed by kohl.
He bowed to Roy and began to dance, slowly at first, his bare feet skimming lightly over the ground. His movements were incredibly sensuous, his hips thrusting forward, his cock bound by the jeweled strings, but very impressive.
Roy was dumbstruck. Not only was this creature breathtakingly beautiful, but he was a Gypsy! Gypsies were rarely seen or encountered, living in the harshest mountains, loyal to no lord or lady but their own tribe. It was extremely rare to capture one and put a slave collar on him.
The music grew more intense, speeding up the tempo, Roy’s blood thrumming in time to the beat. When the Gypsy turned, there were murmurs of appreciation.
The best ass I have ever seen!
Roy’s cock twitched as he gazed on that perfect pair of buttocks. What he could do what that!
He blushed a little. He had not lain with anyone yet, and here he was fantasizing about a Gypsy! They were supposed to be wild animals in bed.
He decided to enjoy the performance. He watched every move, enchanted and excited by the way the Gypsy moved his body, twisting and turning, thrusting his hips forward, twirling and bending down and displaying that scrumptious ass…
Roy felt a little dizzy, the jewels glittering in the late afternoon sun, trailing ribbons of light as the slave moved. Roy caught flashes of a smile; he was sure of it.
The band of archers clapped and whistled and shouted, the Gypsy coming closer, bending backwards, and as his hips kept thrusting, Dinah purred beside Roy while Ollie laughed. Roy could hear the sound of tinkling bells, a sweet lilt to his ears.
The Gypsy planted his hands on the ground and with a thrust of powerful legs, flipped himself over to land on his feet, straightening up.
Roy led the others in an explosion of applause, greatly impressed. Ollie nudged his son. “Flexible, eh?”
Roy answered, “Yes, flexible.” He could not take his eyes off the enthralling Gypsy, his heart racing and blood pounding in his ears as the slave whirled in wild abandon, finally stopping just a few feet from Roy, flashing him a smile as he knelt, the music stopping. Roy saw the tiny bells tied to his nipples and nearly laughed while licking his lips.
Ollie clapped a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “Beautiful, is he not?” He chuckled at Roy’s nod. Ollie inclined his head to Dinah, who presented Roy with a small cedar box.
“What is this?”
“Your gift for your Coming of Age,” Ollie said.
Dinah opened the lid. Roy could smell the heady scent of sandalwood, his gaze fixed on the intricately-woven gold collar that nestled on white satin. The interlocking chains were of the most delicate filigree work, a specialty of their people and done by only master craftsmen, and an emerald glittered in the center.
Ollie said, “He is yours.”
Astonished, Roy looked up at his parents. “But…”
Dinah smiled as Ollie squeezed his shoulder. “Claim him,” she said.
With slightly shaking hands, Roy lifted the collar out from the box. Ollie gestured for the Gypsy to come forward, the slave standing to walk toward Roy, kneeling directly in front of him. He bowed his head, crossing his wrists behind his back.
Roy removed the collar the Gypsy already wore and carefully placed the new one around his neck, snapping it shut. The slave lifted his head, his blue eyes promising heaven.
Ribald laughter and comments flew around the clearing as Roy leaned forward, one hand pinching the slave’s nipples, delighted as the bells jingled, and the other hand took hold of that luscious ass, squeezing gently.
Dinah attached a chain to the collar, handing the end to Roy. He and the slave stood, Roy leading the way toward his tent while his fellow archers cheered and laughed.
“Pierce him good with your arrow, Roy!”
“Careful Cupid’s arrow does not get you!”
“Ride him hard and put him away wet!”
Once in the tent, the slave immediately wrapped his legs around Roy’s waist, his arms around his neck.
As Roy carried him to the bed, cupping that wonderful ass, he could smell sweat and sandalwood and see laughing blue eyes rimmed in kohl filling his vision.
Roy sighed happily several hours later, his Gypsy slave wrapped around him. He had come of age, and it had been sweeter than honey.