Lucrèce found himself hesitating in the threshold before entering the room. His bare feet slid against the stone, dreading what he knew would come next. And what would come after that, of course. He jerked away from the one taking him from Rafael, futility, frowning deeply as his clothes were shed. “Don’t touch me,” he snapped in vain.
"That's enough of that, now," the one person spoke, stepping forward to help their companion. They discarded Lucrèce's clothes to outside the doorway. Rafael helped as well, shifting Lucrèce's weight from his chest to the others. The two brought Lucrèce to be standing in the water, using a bucket to pour water over his head. They started to clean him, more focused on the task at hand then how Lucrèce felt about what was happening to him.
Lucrèce cursed. At the two, at Rafael, at the situation as a whole. Then again as the water poured over him, having not been prepared. He spat out the droplets at his lips. Shaking his head like a dog to try and rid himself of the rest. He stood there shivering while the servants focused on the task, too cold, and too much in shock to formulate a biting insult or retort. He pushed against one of the hands every so often, if just to remind them that he wanted nothing to do with any of this.
The two ignored Lucrèce, not even bothering to address him as he pushed at their hands. They worked from top to bottom, one working on his front while the other worked on his back. They kept a steady rhythm as they worked, taking no more than ten minutes to go from washing Lucrèce's hair to finishing up with his calves and feet. They left no spot unwashed, ensuring Lucrèce would be pleasing to the eye both dressed and undressed.
Being born to a relatively rich family, Lucrèce was used to being serviced. Mainly for formal gatherings and dinners, washed and dressed in a deft routine, but not like the two who were working on him now. Eventually, acquiescing to the fact that there was nothing he could do in such situation, he went still. He wouldn’t say he had given up. Not yet, that is. Just a logically timed break to conserve his energy, he reassured himself.
With Lucrèce washed off now, the bucket was picked back up, water being poured onto Lucrèce's head and over his body to get rid of the soap. Rafael stepped forward with a rag-like towel as Lucrèce was led out of the water, starting to dry him off. The two in the dresses stepped out of the water, drying off their legs and taking their leave.
Lucrèce blinked the water out of his eyes as he was led back to the makeshift shore, shivering even more vigorously against the cold air on his wet skin. He stood still while Rafael dried him off. While one part of him was glad the humiliating bath was over, there was still what was to come next. The not knowing, the uncertainty, bothered him the most. “I get my clothes back after this,” he guessed. He hoped. “Right?”
Rafael paused, nodding his head before shaking it. He continued to dry Lucrèce off, eventually wrapping the towel around the other man and tucking it in place so that it wouldn't fall. He moved to help Lucrèce walk again, wrapping his arm around the other as he started down another hall. Lucrèce would be getting clothes, but not his old ones. He was to be ready for the customers.
Lucrèce bit at the inside of his cheek as they started walking again, silently wishing he could have a two way conversation with the man. Though he knew deep down the answer to his question wouldn’t be any different if Rafael could talk. He let out a heavy sigh from his nose, mentally readying himself to deal with Alcides again. At least he assumed it would be Alcides he would see next.
It wasn't. Rafael brought Lucrèce to a much nicer room, helping over to a screen for him to get dressed behind. Inside, laid out for him, was… a scarlet red dress. It was expensive, as well, with gold strings to tie it in the back and embroidery along the sleeves and helms. Rafael motioned from Lucrèce to the dress, moving to pick it up to help him into the article of clothing.
Lucrèce’s eyes widened at the dress. It certainly looked expensive, the style more tuned to his tastes at home, though the article of clothing was never a dress. All in all he felt some relief at the sight of it, considering that it could have been more revealing than it was. He didn’t struggle when Rafael moved to help him into it. After all, it was far better than nakedness. At least in some level he could feel the slightest bit distinguished that way.
(Alcides when he finds out Lucrèce doesn't hate the dress: 👁👄👁)
Rafael adjusted the dress once it was on Lucrèce, lacing him up in the back. The man let out a sound, finally, a soft throaty hum as he helped the other dress. He moved to Lucrèce's front, adjusting the dress there were need be. He'd left the top of Lucrèce's dress looser in a mimicry of having breasts, looking over the man once before kneeling. He grabbed a pair of flat silk shoes, checking to see if they'd fit on Lucrèce before offering to help him into them.
(lmaoo yes)
There were plenty of thing Lucrèce wanted to change about the outfit, even while he didn’t absolutely hate it, in particular the loose front. It felt too insecure, spacious, uneven. He much preferred tight lacing.
He frowned at the shoes Rafael put on his feet. They were too low. Too uncomfortable, and not so stable as his own boots. He considered asking for his own instead—at the very least any type of boot—but after some careful consideration the request would be in vain anyhow.
Rafael finished helping Lucrèce dress, moving to stand up when his shoes were on. He moved to offer his hand to the other, to help them to the next room. He couldn't let his dress get dirty from a fall, after all, or both of them would be punished. Next was makeup, and hair. He was almost ready…
Lucrèce frowned at Rafael’s hand, if just to remind himself he wasn’t privy to any of this, but took it anyway. He wasn’t privy to fall either. Walking in a dress felt…strange, and the shoes even more so. He wanted everything to be over. No makeup, no hair prep, or whatever the sadist Alcides had in mind, and yet he dreaded whatever came after that.
Rafael helped Lucrèce walk to the next room, one hand resting on his back and the other holding Lucrèce's hand still. He guided the other through the door to sit in the chair that had been set up for him, stepping back. The same two as from the bath came forward, holding the makeup in their hands.
"Now, stay still," the one said, setting the container down. The first to come was the paint, to cover any imperfections on Lucrèce's skin. They couldn't have him looking cheap, after all.
Lucrèce found himself letting out a sigh of relief as he sat down. A chair, compared to crouching in the godawful cage he’d been in, felt like bliss. Even so he warily eyed the two approaching him, and the makeup in there hands. Wrinkling his nose up at it. He wasn’t one to wear makeup, even in his own home, not like the uppity nobles caking their faces in powder and rouge. It all felt too suffocating. And he assumed with would he now more than ever.
The two continued their work, layer after layer of thick makeup making their way onto his face.
"Relax, we don't want any wrinkles in your makeup," the one chided, lightly tapping Lucrèce's shoulder with one hand to admonish him. "We can't make the master upset, after all."
Lucrèce scoffed slightly at the last comment, but reluctantly let his face relax anyway. He didn’t care much about the ‘master’ getting upset. Whatever it took to get their task over with, he supposed. Even so he couldn’t but wincing whenever the brush bothered a particularly ticklish part of his face.
The two other slaves continued with their work, the one who was in charge applying red stain to Lucrèce's lips before they finally stepped away.
"There, that should do it." There were no mirrors, but Lucrèce was wearing as much makeup as, well, as much as someone would expect one in his new profession.
Rafael stepped forward, offering his hand to help Lucrèce stand up. There was one last place to go to now…
Alcides.
Lucrèce glared at the two slaves from under his layers of makeup. To say he hated it was an understatement, suffocated by both the paint and humiliation as the realization dawned on him that they made him look near exactly like one of the ladies under a streetlamp. He could have seen it coming, of course. If anything, though, that made him feel worse.
“You don’t say. Are you sure there isn’t anything else?” He muttered.
"Well, there isn't much to do with your hair until it grows out," the one noted, taking a strand of Lucrèce's hair in their hand, twirling it a moment before letting it drop. "Then we'll be able to make you a proper night lover, hm?" Rafael helped Lucrèce up, one arm going under the man's arms to help him walk again.
"The master is waiting for him," the one said, turning to clean up. Rafael nodded, moving to lead Lucrèce to the far door.
Lucrèce shot another glare at the one twirling a strand of his hair. For both the touch and the uncalled for comment. He tried to duck away, but was interrupted by Rafael helping him up. First there was relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with the two anymore—he hoped—and then the ever present dread that came with his ‘preparations’ concluding. He watched the far door draw nearer, and the farther they went, the more his feet dragged against the floor. Leaning against Rafael more than he intended.
Rafael gently nudged Lucrèce with his shoulder. It wouldn't be good for either of them if Rafael had to drag the other into the room Alcides was waiting for them in. He stopped at the door, taking his arm slowly from around Lucrèce. He had to stand on his own facing the master. With that, the door was opened, Rafael retreating to his corner as he ensured Lucrèce went in.
Alcides was waiting, sitting on a chair with a small boy holding a plate of small finger foods at his side. He looked up when the door was opened, smirking.
"You look ravishing, darling," he said, voice taunting as he moved to stand and look Lucrèce over.
Lucrèce swayed his weight from foot to foot without the support of Rafael’s arm around his body. He stayed upright well enough, though, enough to defiantly stare into Alcides’ eyes. Not before glancing at the small boy with a trace of sadness in his expression, which dissipated nearly at once. He wrinkled his nose up as Alcides moved towards him. Lucrèce instinctively took a small step back in response.
“The paint is a bit much, isn’t it?”