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A Master of the Tenth Order, Chapter 1 By ThePhallocrat - thephallocrat@gmail.com
Towards the end of his thirteenth year, Acolyte Claudio of the Magicker's Commune began to worry that he was afraid of sex. For a normal teen boy, growing up on a farm or apprentice to a craftsman somewhere outside the confines of the Commune, this would be normal and unremarkable. For an acolyte with the ambition to one day practice the highest degrees of magick, a master of the Tenth Order, this put him in a precarious position, for sex formed the core of many of the highest rituals.
He could not explain the source of his fear. Sexual congress was a mystery to members of the Commune, but of the spiritual and metaphysical kind that a boy of his age could barely fathom let alone fear. Mechanically, physically, it was an open book. Nothing was more common than to see couplings of all kinds as one walked the halls of the Academy, or strolled the fields and orchards of the Commune grounds. More formally, Claudio had seen up close various sex acts performed as part of the higher rituals more times than he could count. Men and women, women and women, men and men, he had seen it all since he was a child, and it had seemed no more unusual to him than seeing his brothers and sisters bathing or sleeping. Raised in the Commune since before he could remember, he could imagine living no other way. The private lives of the people outside the Commune, their isolation from their neighbors, their shyness to be seen unclothed, all of this would have seemed foreign and strange to Claudio and his fellow acolytes.
Until recently, he had thought nothing of sex, neither positive nor negative. It simply was a fact of life: humans needed to eat, to drink, they needed to socialize and laugh and love, and they needed to copulate. All these things were happening all the time amongst the Commune's members, and one seemed no more remarkable than the other, save that some, like sex, were reserved for the higher orders and the older Magickers. Sex was normal, but it was a thing for the adults, and Claudio had never much thought more of it than that.
Overnight that seemed to change, and now sex preoccupied much of his thoughts. This was true of his fellow acolytes too, it seemed, but where they expressed interest or even enthusiasm, Claudio felt something akin to dread. He tried to ignore it, but suddenly sex seemed to be everywhere he looked, in every conversation, happening around every corner. He could barely sleep. In the end, so great was his discomfort that it outweighed even his shame to speak of his weakness, and he sought the advice of the Instructor he admired most, Instructor Benedict. He was a kindly man with a well-kept ruddy beard, bright blue eyes, and, the thing that endeared him to Claudio most, a wide smile and a ready laugh. His classes had always interested Claudio most, more for the man himself than for the subject matter. Not all Magickers took on the role of instructing the Acolytes, and of those who did not all were gifted teachers, but Benedict was a natural. Surely he of all people would not judge Claudio's fear too harshly.
But Claudio's heart was still pounding when he related all this to his teacher one afternoon in the man's cozy little room, holding a cup of tea in trembling hands and barely remembering to drink it. Benedict listened attentively and sipped his own cup, saying nothing. The nervous pupil could not determine if that was a good or a bad sign. But it was no small thing, he was discovering, to pour out your deepest fears to an adult, even one you felt you could trust.
"I see," Benedict said at last, when the boy found he had no more words to further describe his apprehensions, "These thoughts appear to have caused you some distress, young acolyte."
"Yes, master," Claudio forced himself not to cry, no reason to shame himself further, "For what if--" He could not bring himself to say it.
"What if what?"
"What if I'm not meant for the higher orders, the greater magick far above me?" The highest an acolyte could ascend without sex magick was the Seventh Order, respectable perhaps but comparable in power to a Master Magicker like a flea to a horse.
Benedict set his cup down and laced his fingers together. It was a skeptical pose. "Many of our brothers and sisters never ascend to the highest levels, and still they serve the Commune faithfully. There is no dishonor in it."
Claudio nodded, afraid to disagree. This was true, on its surface, but unsatisfying.
"You have ambition," Benedict inferred from the awkward silence, "You wish to become a Master."
Claudio could only nod.
"Why don't you tell me when all this began, when did you become aware of these difficult feelings? It wouldn't happen to be around the time Acolyte Johan volunteered for higher training, would it?"
No Acolyte could begin instruction in sex magick unless they made it known they wanted to and felt ready. Claudio's peer group had reached an age where a few of them had started doing so, including some of his closest friends. Johan had been eager and open about his intentions, but at the time Claudio remembered nothing but joy for his friend and hope for his success. He considered quietly if jealousy or envy could be coloring his feelings. But he shook his head. "No, it was not then. It was more recent."
"Was there any inciting moment specifically? Or did it appear gradually?"
"There was a... Well, I guess I first became aware of complicated feelings at the Seeding Festival." Claudio cleared his throat and blushed. The Festival, which included an annual ritual to bless the fertilization and seeding of this year's crops, not just for the Commune but for the whole principality, had only been two weeks prior. The memories were still fresh, and this was the first time he was speaking about it out loud.
"You performed your role most admirably in the ritual," Benedict said, smiling, making his student blush. Claudio had played a minor part, befitting his standing as an Acolyte in the Third Order. All that had been required of him was a few incantations, a few rudimentary magickal gestures, but it had been his first time contributing to a major ritual and he had wanted to do well. "I hope you do not feel otherwise," the teacher continued.
"No, I was pleased with how I did," the acolyte assured him, "It was during the Consummation, after my part, that it all happened."
The Consummation required the participation of two Magickers, one in the role of Earth, the other in the role of Plow, theatrically reenacting the process of sewing crops via sexual copulation. It was a minor form of sex magick, almost more of a symbolic gesture than useful in the summoning of any great power, and yet the ritual would not be complete without it. It was the trigger, you might say, that released the greater magick that had been gathered in the rest of the proceedings. At the moment of climax, when the seed was implanted in the Earth, the ritual was fired and the magick sent out across the land to bless the soil and strengthen the forthcoming crops.
Like much sex magick, these roles had once, in ancient times, been construed quite literally. A woman always took the part of Earth, a man the Plow, and always with the endeavor to create a child in the union; it was believed a child born of the ritual would be a powerful magicker in their own time. Much reform had occurred since those days, the rituals better understood for their true nature. Magick was nothing so basic as to be so literal. It existed instead in the layers of meaning in which reflections of the mundane world were but the surface. Symbols used in rituals, runes, and rites drew from reality as the human mind knew it, from nature, from biology, the physical world -- but the symbols were magick in themselves, not the images they drew from. Thus there was no less power in a man as Earth or a woman as Plow, in any combination one could think of. The role is what mattered, and the pure and open heart of the one who took it acting authentically in harmony with the role's deeper meaning. The whole of magicking had been ennobled by that realization, or so Claudio had learned in lecture from this very teacher. To be free to live more authentically with their inner desires, whatever they might be, and not forced into a narrow literalism of sex-as-procreation-only had unlocked greater powers in the masters of the arts over the generations.
"So it was the Consummation, I should have guessed," Benedict said. His lips quivered and Claudio felt his teacher was trying not to smile.
That smile made Claudio fear he had acted like a fool. He was quick to embarrassment around a teacher whose approval he craved. "It was nothing you did, I assure you, master! I'm not blaming you." Benedict had played the role of Earth in this year's festival. How he had won that honor, Claudio had no idea. There were many things that took place amongst the higher order magickers that he was ignorant of.
"Well, I should hope not," Benedict took up his cup once again and sipped his tea, as if to indicate all was well, "Do not fear, Claudio, I am not offended. Tell me how it made you feel."
"I've seen the ritual before. And many others like it. But this was different. There was... There was a strange feeling in my stomach, a burning of some kind. I thought I might be sick. And yet I couldn't look away."
"It is natural in one of your age to be fixated on the act of penetration," Benedict reassured him, choosing his words carefully.
"Not that," Claudio protested, "Well, not just that. It was your face I could not look away from."
"My face?"
"You appeared to be in pain. Or very scared. Like you were losing yourself." He could not meet his teacher's eyes as he said this. Would he understand? Had Claudio fully misunderstood what he had seen and now was revealing his own ignorance?
"In a way I was," Benedict agreed, and that gave the boy courage to continue.
"And that scared me more than anything. I always thought the sex rituals were for other people, for adults. Then I realized that soon it could be me. And I was scared to feel whatever you were feeling. I started shaking."
"You have much more training before you would be ready for anything of that sort," Benedict said.
"Soon enough, though! I won't be a child forever." Then Claudio clamped his mouth shut. He felt somehow that he had said too much, that he had spilled out some secret.
"Ahhh," Benedict said, as if he had just solved some sort of problem. He calmly took up the teapot and began refilling his cup. "I think I understand. Would you like more tea?"
The acolyte shook his head. "Master, what is wrong with me? Shouldn't I be excited for the higher magicks?"
"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, my boy. Fear is a far more appropriate response to the power and mysteries we dabble in than excitement. Nothing terrifies us Instructors more than an overly eager pupil, for with eagerness could come recklessness, and recklessness in matters of magick have grave consequences."
"Then why am I the only one to fear?" Claudio said miserably, studying his hands.
Benedict laughed then, a laugh it seemed he had been holding back for several minutes. "Oh, sweet boy, I do apologize. I am not laughing at you, but at the irony of the things you say. You are most certainly not the only one who fears. Not in the least. This isn't remotely the first conversation I've had with an acolyte about this very thing."
The boy could scarcely believe his ears. "Really?"
"Let us conduct an experiment, if you feel up to it? It may prove effective in demonstrating my point." He waited until Claudio nodded. "Excellent. Set down your cup just there and sit back in your chair. Get comfortable. Now, I want you to think again about what you witnessed at the ritual. Close your eyes and picture it in your mind, with all the detail you can remember. My face, which so absorbed your thoughts, but also the exertions of Master Paelomon as he acted as Plow and penetrated me, and the sounds and smells of our coupling, and the presence of the others around that sacred circle."
Claudio did so. It had been at dawn, the perfect symbolic time for the beginning of the growing season. As the sun had first glimmered above the horizon, Master Paelomon had guided Master Benedict into position, placing him on all fours in the center of the runic circle. Both men were naked, runes and symbols etched over their skin with carefully prepared ink. The runes on Benedict concentrated on his back, lines following certain conduits of powers across and over the body, focused down and encircling his buttocks, the place of entry, while Paelomon's had more on his chest and stomach, circling down to emphasize his phallus. It was harder to see Paelomon's runes because he was a hairy man, but they were there all the same. All of this was carefully inscribed in both the ritual itself and further in years of tradition at the Commune, and Claudio had seen it before many times.
But from the moment Benedict had assumed his position, back arched, his backside open and ready for plowing and seeding like the soil of Earth itself, Claudio's heart had begun racing like never before. All the hair on his body, little though it was in a boy his age, stood on end. When Master Paelomon had inserted his hairy manhood fully into Benedict's opening, it had felt as though a dagger had slid into Claudio's heart. The coupling that followed made the air in the circle electric. The runes on the skin of both men began to glow with their own light, revealing (especially on wooly Paelomon) their full intricacy and detail. He remembered Benedict's face, the kind of fascinating horror of it, a man lost to bliss to almost the point of agony; eyes rolling back in his head, brow furrowed, a pure kind of vulnerability in every part of his aspect. To be so vulnerable, to submit so fully... It was too much to bear even thinking of it. Master Paelomon had cried out at the height of the coupling, his hands forming unintelligible magickal patterns in the air as he experienced his climax inside Instructor Benedict and poured out both his seed and his own magick into the other man. The light of that seeding, incandescent magick, poured out from where their bodies were united. Benedict had cried out too, and it was the intensity of his shout that had haunted the acolyte's thoughts and dreams ever since.
Claudio remembered it all as vividly as if it were happening in that very moment. Indeed, the memory would always be clear to him, impressed upon his mind as surely as the Plow pressed upon the Earth. And there it was, that fire in the pit of his stomach. That burning ache that made him want to vomit or shout or laugh. It was too bright, too terrifying. He could barely stand it, and began squirming with discomfort and dread in his seat. His skin felt like it was trying to crawl off his body to escape that flame within.
"There!" Benedict said triumphantly, quite close. Claudio opened his eyes. His teacher had crossed the room to kneel beside him, placing one comforting hand on his shoulder. "The feeling coursing through you right now, where is its center? Point to it."
Wordlessly, Claudio pointed to the bottom of his stomach, below the belly button, but above the genitals. A deep pit in his very core.
"And which of the Seven Centers is that?" Benedict had slipped seamlessly into his Instructor voice, but he sounded just as kind. This wasn't a quiz, in the typical sense, but a gentle reminder.
"The Second," Claudio said with wonder, recalling the information he had learned by rote many years before. Now, though, the knowledge took on a new meaning. It was no longer something theoretical to be memorized for a test. He could feel it burning deep within him.
"The Second is a special and sacred place within the body," Benedict said, "It is the foundation of much magick, and of all the sexual rituals. Its power is awakening within you."
Claudio trembled, his voice cracking. "It frightens me."
"My dear boy, of course it does!" And to the acolyte's surprise the older man pulled him into a warm embrace. His defenses melted at that and he burst into tears, sobbing like a baby into his teacher's shoulder. The man murmured reassurance that all was well, and that he should weep as much as he needed. All it had taken for him to cry, it turned out, was for somebody to make him feel like it was permitted and encouraged to do so. After some minutes, the power in Claudio's stomach seemed to dissipate, as did his anxiety and his tears. He pulled back and went to wipe his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his robes, only to be presented with a handkerchief by the kindly older man.
Benedict kept stroking his pupil's back lightly as he continued his questioning, generating a feeling of peace and calm. Was this magick? Or just the power of human kindness? Claudio wasn't sure. He knew so little about the world (he was beginning to understand) that it was impossible to say where one poorly understood thing bled into another. But he was grateful for the calm and reassuring touch all the same.
"May I ask you one question further, Claudio?" Benedict asked softly. "When was the last time you saw a copulation between two men, during a ritual such as the festival or up close in any setting? Saw a man take on the role of Earth?"
The boy cast his mind back. "It has been a few years, I suppose."
Benedict nodded as if he expected this information. "And this was your first time in the circle as a supporting participant. Well, acolyte, I am happy to assure you once again that there is nothing wrong with you, and what took place at the ceremony is completely understandable."
"It is?"
"Your sexuality is awakening. It's a sacred time in a person's life, but as you have learned it is a frightening one. You are experiencing new feelings and sensations that are foreign to you, and which are powerful enough to make you fear losing yourself. You have sensed quite rightly that this is a signal that your childhood will one day end and you will take on the responsibilities and burdens of adulthood, not an easy realization. All that would be true if you were not a magicker, by the way. Every young man and woman out in the world deals with all that. But for you, young Claudio, the situation is even more intense, for your sexuality carries the capacity to summon power and to compel the world to your will. Terrifying! You would be mad not to fear it."
Claudio sniffled into the handkerchief and considered this. It made a kind of sense. Benedict stood and continued, pacing the room and adopting a posture and tone the boy recognized quite well from his lectures.
"In the ritual, you were linked to Master Paelomon and myself as well as to the other participants by the great magick we weaved. You didn't just read my feelings on my face, dear boy, you were feeling the echo of them in yourself. This began your own awakening. That it occurred during a copulation involving two men suggests that you, like me, are a child of the Sun and sexually inclined towards other men. But you are young, and that remains to be seen. You could in time discover you are inclined to both men and women. There's no rush to determine these things. But it would explain why this ritual upset you so. You are at the cusp of your flourishing, and you resonated with my magick very strongly. It was a powerful ritual for me, as well. I have always shared a special bond with Master Paelomon. Our mating feels as natural and inevitable as the tides, he once told me, and I would agree. Our ecstasy in that coupling was... intense. It should be a good, strong harvest come fall, if the amount of seed Master Paelomon implanted in me is any indication." The teacher chuckled at that, but what was funny about it Claudio couldn't quite grasp. "I felt myself quite overcome by the magick, as you observed, ascending to new heights previously unknown even to me. One can always learn new things. It was indeed terrifying. But wonderful, I assure you. And all that power overflowed via our bond and into you. It is the most natural thing in the world for you to shrink from that. You have not my years of experience or my training. Your childhood is ending, yes, but you are still a child."
"I am weak," Claudio said, for that was what he heard in all that. Benedict opened a hand in a quick movement, twisting his fingers into the Twelfth Inclination, wrenching the wrist suddenly. A small gust of energy puffed across Claudio's face, focused enough to cause a small sting. A magickal slap from a concerned teacher, a lesson, one employed only in matters of serious instruction. It served its purpose very well, and Benedict now had the boy's full attention.
"None of that," Benedict said in a lower, forceful tone, his eyes aglow with magick and authority, "For it is the very opposite. I felt the power in you just now as you remembered the ritual. It was mighty, my boy. It is quite often true that those with the most potential in magick fear their power most. Your fear is a reflection of the intensity of the forces you know in your heart to be within you. You fear not because you are weak, but because you are strong."
Claudio considered this. Could it be true? Or just kind words to make him feel better? "As strong as Johan?" the boy asked, testing the matter. Perhaps, he admitted to himself, he was more self-conscious because of his friend's bravery than he had previously admitted. Johan was the first acolyte Claudio had known closely who had decided he was ready for initiation into sexual rituals. It had been a surprise, there was no doubt. Claudio had thought they were many years away from the sexual mysteries and Johan had rattled that idea completely.
"Stronger, no doubt," Benedict said, "Your friend Johan may already be discovering that he is not as ready as he thought he was. The ones who volunteer a little too quickly and a little too eagerly often do. You, on the other hand... Your reluctance is a good sign, at your age. You have the capacity to feel very deeply. You don't crave power or pleasure for its own sake above all else. Yes, I think you are very promising indeed. You could be a powerful magicker, Claudio, one of the most powerful -- if you want to be."
"I do!" the boy said vehemently.
"It is one thing to say with your mouth," the teacher replied, "Another to say with your heart. You will not proceed to learn the higher orders until you are truly ready. And that will take as long as it takes. There is no rush. You have only obtained the Third Order, you have much other magick to study, plenty to keep you busy for many years. If the time of your instruction in the mysteries of the Eighth Order and beyond comes in a year, ten years, sixty years, or never, it will be as it will be. You will know when it is time."
Claudio sniffled just a little, then nodded. He was still a bit shaken by it all, especially the physical rebuke, but also somewhat reassured. He also felt a surge of affection for this man who had been so kind, even in his discipline. There was no doubt that he had his student's best interests at heart. All Masters were Fathers and Mothers to the acolytes, and never in his short life had that maxim felt more true. Having been more anxious than perhaps he even knew to open his thoughts to the Instructor, Claudio was suddenly filled with relief. Impulsively, he collapsed into Benedict again for a grateful hug.
"You sweet boy," Benedict said, kissing the crown of his head, "You remind me so much of myself, you know. When I was your age."
"How old were you when you felt ready?" Claudio suddenly asked. He normally would not dream to ask such a personal question, but he felt a new level of intimacy with his teacher, a new degree of trust. He was fairly sure he would not be rebuked for insolence.
He was right. Benedict smirked, remembering. "Much older than you. I was terrified for years, thinking I'd never be ready."
"Really?" It was difficult to imagine Benedict being afraid of sex magick, when he seemed so accomplished and confident in it now.
"Absolutely. And here's another secret. Once, as an acolyte not much older than you, I came to Master Paelomon to confess my fears as you have come to me now." He tousled the boy's hair affectionately. "So you see? You carry on a grand tradition, and have nothing to be ashamed of."
That really did make it all seem less embarrassing. "So I will know when I am ready," Claudio said, trying to imagine what that knowing would feel like.
"You will, oh trust me, you will," said the teacher, standing and beginning to clear away the tea. By this sign, it was clear their little chat was coming to a close. "And when that time comes, I would be honored if you would seek me out. It would be my privilege to instruct you. If that is your wish. But I will not be offended if you make yourself known to another Instructor. Do you understand?"
Claudio turned red. "Really?"
"You are beautiful, and your potential is vast. I would be most honored. Any magicker would be." the teacher said, smiling. His smile really was so nice to look at. Claudio realized for the first time that he liked Benedict not just because he was kind, but because he was very handsome as well. It was a final shocking realization in an interaction that had been full of such. Unsure of what to say in response to such a compliment, Claudio only nodded and turned to leave.
"You need not worry about becoming a great magicker," Benedict called after him, "You already are one, no matter how far you ascend."
The young acolyte memorized those words, as he memorized every aspect of this conversation, and rehearsed them over and over again to himself in the quiet of night over the coming years. "You are beautiful," the man had said. "You are a great magicker." The compliments lived constantly in the back of his mind, slowly growing in the fertile soil of his imagination, quietly and gently helping the boy come to believe it, and thus building his confidence and opinion of himself. As Instructor Benedict had sagely intended.
Life went back to normal, in a way, and he resumed his studies and duties with much less anxiety. There were times when this confession with Instructor Benedict nearly faded from his mind. Others where he could think of little else. But it was clear it was some kind of turning point, the beginning of something, however much he thought of it. Later, much later, when he reflected on his ascension to manhood and to the heights of power, he would consider his confession to Benedict to be the beginning of that journey.
But far from the end.