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Chapter 5: Interrogation
The Sahara Desert, the next day
We comprised a rather odd party upon arriving in Sir Rodgers's encampment. Phil and I each rode our camels led by the stoic Riad. Meanwhile, strung between the two camels like a trussed turkey was our prisoner: Marcus. He had finally awakened, but remained unexpectedly docile. Although even if he had escaped, he would have had very few options for rescue. The desert was oppressive. The nearest bit of civilization was the expedition where he would not be welcomed with any sort of friendliness. He would likely perish before finding safety.
A shout went up from the watchmen as we came into view, and several Egyptian workers ran to help us unload. The camels were led away to be fed and watered, and Marcus was cut down, falling rather gracelessly into the sand. He was hauled up by two bulky men adorned with cutlasses and rifles. We were all led into a tent where a young Egyptian boy waited with a platter of tea. The boy smiled cordially.
"Hello, gentlemen. My name is Idir. I am Sir Rodgers's translator and personal assistant. I'm afraid that Sir Rodgers is presently occupied with some business at the dig site. But he will be dining with you this evening. In the meantime, please, refresh yourselves. I am at your service."
I glanced over at Phil who was rather overtly licking his lips. He opened his mouth to make some lewd remark, but I quickly interrupted him.
"Thank you, Idir. You are very kind." I accepted the cup of tea he proffered. It was a very sweet, minty liquid and excellent to quench my thirst after our long, hot trip. "But we have a rather urgent matter to discuss with Sir Rodgers. Is there no way he could break for just a short moment?"
Idir frowned as he poured a second serving of tea for Phil who accepted it, all the while ravishing Idir's slender form with his gaze. "I can arrange for a message to be sent to him, but he is quite engaged in the excavation. They are very close to a breakthrough and Sir Rodgers can be quite irritable if disturbed."
"No, no." I assured. "I suppose the matter can wait for now."
"As you wish. Would you two gentlemen enjoy a tour of the campsite? I can show you your quarters and the pieces we have recovered thus far?"
Phil stood. "That would be splendid." He downed the rest of his tea and looked pointedly at me.
"Yes, but..." I stared at Marcus, who was still bound on the carpet.
"Your prisoner will be quite secure here." Idir responded. "The guards will see to that." He spoke to the guards in rapid Arabic, and they nodded grimly. "They have agreed to supervise him until your return."
"I suppose then..." I was still concerned about Marcus, along with Sir Rodgers' seeming ambivalence toward us, but there appeared to be nothing I could do. I joined Phil and Idir on the tour of the camp.
The camp was set in a low valley where the sand dunes ended, and several rocky buttresses began, standing out starkly amid the monotonous landscape. Here were several large tents, surrounded by numerous smaller ones. These tents acted as the only shelter in the harsh landscape, serving as sleeping quarters, dining halls, lavatories, offices along with any other purposes Sir Rodgers' people might require. It was a rather impressive operation; and one upon which the British government had lavished a small fortune. A few miles deeper into the maze of rocky canyons was the central excavation, Idir explained, the hunt for the fabled tomb of the ancient Egyptian pharaoh, Kakhor Ra. Sir Rodgers had pinpointed these rocky caverns as his resting place several years ago, after combing through hundreds of ancient texts. Last year, Rodgers finally secured the necessary funds to launch the expedition. Upon their arrival, the scientists began digging at random in the hopes of finding some clue as to the exact location of the tomb. Their intuitions were correct. Only a few months later, they discovered just that: a tablet engraved with instructions to locate the burial site of Kakhor Ra. This tablet had led them to a narrow grotto, where the explorers began to dig. Now, they were now on the verge of breaking into the tomb itself.
Idir explained all of this to us as he led us around camp. I was already familiar with most of these facts having thoroughly researched Sir Rodgers's expedition before arriving. However, it was all very new to Phil, who plagued the ever-patient Idir with questions as we wandered around the encampment.
"So this Kakhor Ra, then." Phil asked. "He's supposed to be rich?"
Idir nodded. "The streets of Luxor were fabled to be paved with gold during his reign. His wealth would make your King George look like a pauper by comparison. Undoubtedly he is buried with a tremendous amount of gold and jewels."
"So it must be this that the Nazis are after then, eh?" mused Phil, thoughtfully scratching his crotch.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Huntington?"
"Ah, Lewis here had a bit of a run-in with some of Mr. Hitler's pals back in Istanbul. We're concerned they might be searching for this Cock-er whatever person too."
"Kakhor Ra," I corrected sharply, a little peeved for Phil's seeming disregard for the urgency and secrecy of this matter. It wasn't that I didn't trust Idir; it was just that Phil was likely to be a little too trusting in order to get into the boy's trousers.
"Well," Idir smiled. "We have been fortunate enough to have had no incidents here. Besides," he gestured at the various men that wandered around the camp, nearly all of them armed to the teeth with swords, pistols and bandoliers. "We are well-protected."
"Excellent!" Phil laughed and clapped a friendly hand on Idir's back. "No way Adolf will be able to get that gold now!"
"It's not just the gold though," I spoke.
"Beg pardon?"
"There are a lot of legends about Kakhor Ra. And if the rumors are to be understood correctly," I felt my voice trembling for some reason. "Hitler is more interested in some of those supernatural forces. He wants to rule the world, and doesn't care how he does it."
With this rather ominous thought in mind, Idir led us back to the tent. He reiterated his promise that Sir Rodgers would be with us as soon as possible, and then made some excuse for his departure.
It was not long before Phil followed him. He sat moodily sipping the cold tea, before casually stating that he needed to take a piss. I rolled my eyes, as he sauntered out the entryway, certain he was on his way to find Idir. It was now just me in the tent. Bored, I decided to take another quick walk around the camp, just to familiarize myself with the layout. Swarthy Egyptian workers were at work everywhere, loading and unloading things, preparing the next meal, and generally keeping the camp operations running smoothly. As I rounded the edge of the encampment, however, near where some of the cars were parked, I noticed a remarkably familiar figure step down from one of the vehicles. I squinted against the blazing sun as the man approached me, then broke into a massive smile. Tad may have been dressed differently in his military uniform, but he cut the same striking figure, standing a head taller than any other man here.
"Well, I'll be damned." Tad laughed raucously. "If it isn't the horny little bastard from the train!"
"My god, Tad, you devil! What the hell are you doing here?"
"Orders," Tad spoke grimly. "After talking with you on the train, I thought it might make sense for our scientists here to have some extra protection. I spoke with my superiors immediately upon arrival in Amman, and they agreed. Especially after receiving word from the Consulate in Alexandria; it seems some Nazi agents are already at work in the area. I've been sent here with some extra forces to provide that protection. Although, I admit," Tad smirked. "I may have had some additional, more selfish motives for coming here."
I blushed as Tad groped my crotch in a rather obscene manner. Then, I glanced around the camp. "And the soldiers? Where are they?"
Tad grimaced. "I'm afraid we've got a bit of a skeleton crew for the time being. The Levant Command and the Egyptian Command are having some difficulty coordinating mobilization efforts; but we should have more soldiers in a few days' time."
"Well, thank goodness you're here."
Tad laughed again. "Yes, thank goodness indeed. Say, I've got some things to finish up at the moment, but I should very much enjoy seeing you again. Say, at 9 o'clock this evening in my tent?"
I smiled. "That would be most excellent."
"Very well. Until we meet again." Tad winked and pinched my ass roguishly. I stared as he wandered off somewhere into the camp, then headed back to my own tent.
Phil had not returned. I sighed, and casually flipped through some of the books on the desk: works by Plato, Ptolemy, Voltaire, and some of our modern Poet Laureates. A typical academic's desk. This was evidently Sir Rodgers' private office. I glanced at some of the correspondence, which confirmed my suspicions. My eyes started to wander a little further, and I noticed one of the letters was addressed to Marcus Calloway. Quickly, I tore my gaze away and chastised myself for peeking at the man's private affairs. Despite this, I couldn't help but glance at the letter again:
"Dear Marcus,
We are very near completion here; I can't imagine we're more than a day or two away from breaking into Kakhor Ra's tomb. It truly is the most exciting moment of my life. Not only are we discovering a lost era of history, we are very near proving the source of the Pharaoh's immense wealth and power. The question that has confounded every historian from Herodotus to Caviglia is how Kakhor Ra, a second son of a minor noble family, was able to rapidly unite such a broken and corrupt country as Egypt was during that time. Not only did he unite the country, he turned it into a world power, on equal footing with the Assyrians and Persians. I have my own suspicions, naturally, but we shall soon know the TRUTH."
That last word was underlined several times. Of course, I knew most of the history surrounding the lost king, but it was fascinating to hear it from Sir Rodgers' perspective. I continued to read, oblivious of my surroundings.
"Furthermore, the legends... I consider myself to be a man bound by fact and rationality. But that's nothing to say there isn't much more to this world than we currently perceive. Who knows what knowledge we have lost in these 2000 years since Kakhor Ra's reign? He had an aura, a mysticism about him that made every man bow before him. A poetic phrase that is certainly an homage to his power. But the more research I do, the more conclusive it seems that there is something greater to Kakhor Ra, something supernatural. Please do not dismiss my reasonings as folly; we both know it is this lust; for Kakhor Ra's magical power, that has propelled this expedition thus far.
And even if we are unable to deliver it exactly as promised to your employers, I am certain that the rumored trove of gold and jewels will suffice. That should be enough to fund his militaristic ambitions for centuries to come, and in turn, he will fund us.
I await your return with anxiety, Marcus. I received a concerning communique from the embassy the other day. Please tread carefully. We exist in a world of enemies; you must constantly be vigilant.
Yours,
Alexander"
Fascinating. I put down the letter in shock. So Sir Rodgers did believe in the legends behind Kakhor Ra. More importantly, it seemed the goal of the expedition was to discover the substance, if there was any, behind those legends. And what was this about Marcus's employer? If there was any treasure to be found, it would go to the British government, who had funded the expedition, not some shadowy, anonymous backer. I was deep in thought when a voice suddenly interrupted my reverie.
"I suppose you're wondering about the exact nature of my relationship with Sir Rodgers."
I jumped, and whirled around, knocking over a pot of pens and pencils. It was Marcus. I'd completely forgotten he was in the room with me. The guards were nowhere to be seen.
"Where are the guards?" I asked, keeping my voice cold and authoritative. Marcus shrugged.
"No idea. Some twink ran in; they spoke some Arabic and left."
"They left you here alone?!?!" I was furious. No one was taking this seriously. Marcus was a Nazi agent for God's sake!
"I mean, it's not like I've got anywhere to go." Marcus pointed out.
"Who is your employer?" I asked.
"What?"
"Your employer! The one in this letter!" I grabbed the sheet of paper and shook it in front of Marcus's nose.
"If you'll forgive me; I haven't yet had the chance to read Sir Rodgers' private correspondences."
"Are you a Nazi?" I asked.
"Mr. Simon," Marcus spoke calmly, which irritated me further. "Of what interest to you are my political leanings?"
"They are of the most pressing interest." I replied. "They are of interest to the British government as well, seeing as spying for a foreign power and betraying government secrets would be considered treason."
"And you think I am a traitor?"
"I heard you myself."
"And what did you hear?"
I hesitated. Marcus's relaxed demeanor was unnerving me. What had I actually heard?
"You said... you said the führer was proud of you, and that you'd bring glory to the Third Reich."
"Really?" Marcus seemed unconvinced. "Under what circumstances did you hear this?"
"That night in Istanbul," I began. "We were in bed; I woke up, and I heard..." I fell silent.
"Well, go on. What did you hear?"
I had never been shy before, but Marcus made me exceedingly uncomfortable. I wasn't used to failure, and yet here was a man who had refused all my advances. How was I supposed to approach this?
"I heard you. Having sex. And then you finished and were talking. And said all that other stuff about Hitler."
"So you're telling me, you woke up in the middle of the night, heard me having sex and talking about Hitler?" I cringed; when he said it like that, it all sounded rather crazy. "Mr. Simon, you are attracted to me, correct?"
"I beg your pardon?" I was startled.
"I apologize; I say so merely as a simple fact. I could tell you were attracted to me from the moment we met in Istanbul. This intuition was further confirmed by the... if I'm being honest, slightly ridiculous display when we returned to our hotel for the evening. The nudity, the innuendos, the stories of your time at Eaton: it was all a rather desperate ploy to get me to sleep with you, wasn't it?"
My cheeks burned red with shame. He was calling me out, and I didn't like it. "What's your point?"
"My point is," Marcus continued. "From everything you said, it seems altogether quite likely, that you were rather upset I wouldn't sleep with you, and went to bed horny and jealous, and consequently dreamed up the entire thing."
I was dumbfounded. "But the desert! You tried to attack Phil!"
"Or consider this, I was en route to Sir Rodgers' excavation, saw you being cruelly assaulted by some guard, and thought you had been kidnapped by thugs!"
Marcus's deep brown eyes seemed to show genuine concern at my hypothetical plight. I was torn; on the one hand, I had believed Marcus to be the enemy for so long, and it seemed crazy that I would have dreamed up such a scenario. But his arguments were very convincing.
"I was terrified when I woke up and you were gone!" Marcus continued. "Istanbul hosts thousands of scoundrels that would do all manner of unspeakable things to a little, white English boy like you."
I felt guilty, then remembered the letter I had just read. "What about this?"
I held Sir Rodgers' note in front of Marcus's face.
"Well, like I said, I am unfamiliar with Sir Rodgers' private affairs, but--"
"This letter is addressed to you."
"Well, clearly he hasn't sent it yet." Marcus shot back. "Consider that these letters are not addressed to you, and thus you are reading them completely out of context."
There was a pause as I tried to collect my thoughts. Marcus spoke again.
"Look, I don't blame you." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "You're young, traveling the world alone, fiercely loyal and ambitious. None of that is your fault. However, you ought to be careful about jumping to conclusions like that."
Guilt twisted in the pit of my stomach. "I suppose..."
"Now, now. You shouldn't feel too badly; no harm done." Marcus rubbed my back fondly and smiled. As soon as Sir Rodgers arrives, we can sort this whole thing out."
I leaned into Marcus. His hand felt wonderful massaging my sore muscles. Despite his difficult journey, he still maintained the enticing smell of sharp aftershave that I had first noticed, albeit with certain muskier undertones. He spoke again.
"Of course, I must admit; I know a little bit more about you than I first let on."
"What do you mean?" I mumbled as Marcus brought his other hand to my back, and continuing kneading my tired body. Marcus chuckled.
"Well, I am Sir Rodgers' assistant. I am familiar with many of the details of his personal life, as well as his professional one."
I started slightly. "Then, you know..."
"About Paris. Yes."
"Ah." I fumbled awkwardly.
"No need to be ashamed. Sir Rodgers is undeniably an attractive man. He keeps himself fit."
"Have you...?"
"No, no. My relationship with Sir Rodgers purely professional. Despite the fact" Marcus continued, "that I share some of his proclivities. Predominantly," Marcus leaned close to my ear, and I felt the hairs on my neck stand on end. "A certain attraction towards handsome young scholars like yourself."
Marcus was right behind me, his body pressed against mine, hands vigorously rubbing my back. His hardness was pressed up against my ass. I knew he wanted me, and by God, did I want him. I turned my head slightly.
"Why...?"
Marcus, anticipating my question, cut me off. "It didn't feel appropriate in Istanbul. Sir Rodgers had marked you as his, and I didn't want to interfere in his personal business. But now," Marcus shrugged. "I don't see why we can't have a little fun before Sir Rodgers gets back."
Before I had a chance to reply or even think about his words, Marcus covered my mouth with his own in a firm kiss. His hand slipped from my back, fumbling with the fastenings on the front of my trousers. I moaned as he reached inside and squeezed my trembling manhood beneath the thin fabric of my underwear, already wet with my excitement. Roughly, he fondled me, while I, in turn, thrust my rear against his crotch, grinding until he whirled me around and planted another sloppy kiss on my mouth.
His tongue thrust its way into me, lasciviously exploring the new territory, and his nimble fingers expertly pinched my nipples until they were both pert with desire. I melted like putty in his hand. The man had experience, and was using it to my benefit.
I knelt before him and he opened the fly of his trousers. He wore nothing underneath. His slender penis was long, and a dark line ran its way around the circumference just beneath his cockhead, marking his circumcision. A pair of testicles swung beneath in their wrinkled sack, heavy with his sweet sap.
My mouth watered at the sight of him, in all his glory, standing before me. I eagerly leaned forward to take the full length of his member into my mouth, but he held me back. I whined in frustration.
"Ah, ah, ah." He teased, slapping my face with his turgid prick. "You will obey my instructions, and do exactly as I say."
I looked up at him, and I nodded, eager to suck out his load.
"Very well. No hands." He ordered, "Just your mouth. Nice and slow. I want to enjoy it."
I did as he commanded, taking him carefully into my mouth. Sucking long and slow, I relished every inch of his penis. I slurped it all down, maintaining eye contact until my nose was buried deep in his dark, sweaty pubes. My eyes watered, and he nodded.
"That's it; good boy."
I gently backed off his penis, until only the head was in my mouth. Carefully, I swirled my tongue beneath it, teasing his frenulum, immediately inducing a flood of precum into my mouth. He grunted loudly, and grabbed my head, shoving his meat down my throat without mercy. I gagged beneath the sudden force. His urgency betrayed his need; it had been some time since Marcus had had sex. Carefully, I squeezed and caressed his hard rod, gently manipulating it with my tongue and throat. He cried out, leaking more fluid into my throat. I smiled, my eyes watering, and sucked harder. Marcus moaned agained, pulling my head into his pelvis as far as it could go. He thrust again and again, uselessly trying to penetrate further. His cock swelled even more, until I felt as if I might be asphyxiated upon the monstrous beast. It took only one more thurst, and Marcus exploded. Cum filled my throat completely, spilling out the sides of my throat. Pulse after pulse of Marcus' delicious seed was injected into my body, bapitizing it from the inside out. Still, Marcus continued to thrust as if his life depended on it. I continued to suck him, swallowing as much of his cum as I physically could. The pair of us remained paralyzed in the moment of ecstasy for I don't know how long.
Finally, Marcus reduced his vigor, and withdrew his still tumescent dick from my mouth. I knelt, cum splattered all across my face. Marcus wiped his dripping cock on my shirt, and shoved it back into his pants, buttoning them firmly. He smiled and gave me one final kiss. The moment our mouths touched, we noticed a large ruckus outside the tent. Marcus pulled away, and frowned. I quickly wiped his ejaculate off my face and joined him at the entrance to the tent.
People were sprinting all over the camp, hopping in jeeps and driving off in a flurry of dust. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Idir; Phil was nowhere to be seen. I called out to him:
"Idir! Idir! What the devil is going on?"
"It's the tomb!" Idir yelled. "The tomb, Mr. Simon. They're about to open the tomb!"
I hope you enjoyed this installment of Lewis's adventures. The next chapter will be out soon. Please send questions, comments, support, criticisms and encouragement to tweedledeedum281@gmail.com
Until next time, happy jacking!