Ogedei's Boy II Part 1

Ogedei's Boy Volume Two by Anthony Thomas

A homoerotic tale of love and self discovery through pain and submission.

Prologue

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one. Take honour from me, and my life is done. - Shakespeare

When he kicked my legs apart and clipped the ankle straps either end of a spread bar, the weight of my body pulled more fully on the arms secured above my head and leaving me stretched tautly against the post. Time momentarily slowed to a crawl and my senses seemed sharpened. Both in and outside the huge yard, the whole estate and its occupants seemed to be holding a collective breath as they waited to see, and hear, the outcome of my action.

I would have sworn I could hear the bees happily working in the orchard on the other side of the wall now they were no longer being disturbed by the groundsman who'd been summoned to deal with me, I could certainly separate the scent of fruit blossom from that of the stables behind my back where the horses were constantly shuffling, breathing heavily and munching away in their shaded quarters with no concern as to the drama unfolding outside in the sunshine.

Against the far wall, between the tall windows, stood my protagonist's companions talking excitedly between themselves, their voices blending with the other voyeurs watching from the surrounding windows and between them and myself stood The Khatun and, as I was now aware, his successor. I at least had the satisfaction of observing the way he held his side and the bruise blossoming on his cheek although seeing the smirk on his face as he enjoyed my predicament made me half wish I'd really hurt rather than merely subdue him.

I could see nothing of what was behind me, even the sun was throwing its shadows in that direction so as to deny me any clue, but even so I was fully aware of the exact train of events that transpired. I knew when his half naked body stood up and back off to one side, picking up the horse whip in the process. I knew when he drew a breath, raised his arm, half turned, swung his body and arm together on the exhalation and brought the whip down on my unprotected back. I heard the crack of its landing, felt the droplets of sweat fly from his body to splatter against mine, heard the gasps of the audience, saw the glee in my accusers face, and then, time returned to normal and so did I.

The indescribable shaft of pure agony that coursed through my body bore no comparison to the torture Ogedei so enjoyed inflicting and in this situation there would be no reciprocal release of endorphins from my body to balance the abuse it received. That one night with Ian that still gave me occasional nightmares paled to insignificance against that first stroke and the second that landed only moments later, a little lower down my back, merely reinforced that thought.

Subsequently I became incapable of any real coherent thought, my whole being was so concentrated on the agony there was little room for anything else. I no longer cared much about honour or appearance or promises, I wanted just one thing. I screamed, even though the gag from my torn chiton reduced it to a gurgle I forced to get the word out, he wasn't there, he would probably disown me anyway as I'd unwittingly offended his families honour, but he was all I could think about. - Ogedei

Chapter One

Laying flat on my back under the cooling pale blue grey moonlight, legs in the air, one black cock in my mouth, another up my arse and a couple of spares kneeling at my side, helping out while waiting their turn give my white body a good seeing to. The aroma of fresh warm body musk and sweat, the natural sounds of the crickets and other assorted nightlife in the shrubs and trees, accompanied here by soft murmurings, heavy breathing and the slap of black flesh against willing white, and above all the smell of the freshly mown grass we were cavorting on permeating everything. I was ecstatic.

That first weekend after my return to Africa wormed its way deeply into my subconscious although it was a several years before I realised why the combined scent of cut grass and fresh male sweat always made me feel so randy. There had been nothing violent about it, nothing forced, nothing abusive. It was just that I had wanted them to use my body for their pleasures and they were equally happy to oblige. It wasn't really demeaning, in fact it wasn't really submission in the accepted sense, we all knew what we wanted and whilst as the master's nephew and only a visitor I could well have been perceived as an unwanted outsider or alternatively just a pretty plaything I'd been accepted into their group as naturally as if I'd been a there all along.

After transferring to a smaller twin turboprop for the final segment of my flight to what was to turn out to be the last full summer vacation I took with my Uncle and Aunt, I had been wondering if much would have changed since my previous visit two years back? I knew I'd changed myself, in more ways than were obvious to the naked eye. At eighteen, finished with school and waiting for the college term to start that autumn I'd had to accept that my body had probably stopped growing at just over five foot nine inches but, partially because of that lack of height, actually looked quite good, reasonably well developed due to exercise and a natural tendency to burn off excess calories without a fuss and a body well in proportion that, I will admit, I had observed seemed attractive to both sexes.

I had already seen in some of my school fellows a tendency to excess body weight and had no intention of following suit, especially if it meant ending up like the slob sitting next to me on the plane with the beginning of a paunch only just covered by his straining shirt, the start of a double chin, his stale body odour and his wandering eyes and hands. He'd made sure I knew how important he was, senior rep of a drug company and only twenty-eight, he'd made this flight lots of times and knew all there was to know about the country we were going to.

`Ha!,' I thought to myself. Probably the only rep from his company in this part of the world and I would have bet my passport had more entrance stamps in than his but I was too tired and had no interest in a proper conversation with him so just grunted from time to time and wished he'd shut up so I could get a nap.

`Had I been to Africa before? Was someone meeting me? He could show me round a bit if I had time, he knew all the interesting places. I looked like a fit young man, nice fitting shorts, were they denim? Did I usually dress in shorts, boots and leather jacket? Was it some sort of uniform?'

His eyes had hardly ever moved from my thighs and crotch area since we took our seats and when I stretched my arms above my head and spread my legs apart slightly to relieve the cricks I thought either his eyes would pop out or he'd choke on his tongue so I decided to tease him slightly and encouraged my cock to rise slightly to the occasion and twitch inside its confines. That wasn't my normal scene but he was starting to irritate me with his hints and innuendoes, not to mention I was quite aware he thought me a couple of years younger than the fact.

That's when his conversation switched to the fit of my clothes and his hands to my thighs and I thought things had gone far enough and switched to wanting a nap, laying my jacket over my thighs and connecting my iPod. With the headset playing soft music and my seat leant back slightly I actually managed to doze off, only to wake a short time later to feel a hand in my crutch that not only wasn't mine but had somehow managed to unzip my fly and was now trying clumsily to extract the contents.

I suppose I had teased a bit earlier but not enough to deserve this unwanted attention. The thought of his sticky fingers in reality managing to achieve their objective didn't appeal even if we were in the rearmost seats and out of view from the other passengers so I suggested quietly that he remove his hand. The only problem then being that my cock had a tendency to follow a different set of rules to my head and I now had a raging erection that couldn't easily be packed away. Adjusting my dress as best as possible I stood and walked carefully back to the toilets holding my jacket to hide the problem intending to cool off and repack myself when I bumped into the steward as he came thought the rear curtain.

`Sorry Sir.'

`No problem, I was just after the toilet.'

He looked down to the bulge between my legs and the glimpse of white slip showing where I couldn't get my zip right up, `See you woke up before he got what he wanted then.' I'd had no idea my neighbour had been observed in his attempt to interfere with me but, somehow, the knowledge that had been the case only increased the discomfort in my pants.

`Yeah,' I smiled back at him, `only problem I'm not the only thing to wake up and I can't get my zip back where it should be.' I'd been half sure we were soul mates to some extent earlier, nothing too extreme about him, just the way he looked at me a few times, his close cut dyed bright blonde hair, a very slight sway to his hips when walking up, and down the cabin. Now he proved me right.

`Do you want to come back to the galley and see if I can't sort it out for you?' he asked with a grin. `I'm sure I can manage to get you back where it should be and re-zipped up before its time to land.'

I was quite sure he could and by now I was also so hard that I quite looked forward to joining the mile high club, in fact didn't think there was any possibility of adjusting my dress to an acceptable display without breaking something until I got rid of the pressure still boiling up, so I followed his slim body through the rear curtain into a narrow area where there it seemed there was hardly enough room for us to turn round, let alone get involved, between the cupboards and counters on each side. I looking for somewhere to lay my jacket as he turned to face me, but with one hand he grabbed it to hang on a hook I'd not seen and with the other gripped my T almost hard enough to tear as it pulled free from my belted waist. The feeling of air on the naked skin of my stomach set me off and I made no objection when he pulled me closer and our lips met.

The ferocity with which his tongue almost immediately started to fuck my mouth while his hands worked on my belt and zip leaving me almost naked within moments, my shorts and briefs down to my knees and my T pulled up to my shoulders allowing his fingers to work on my nipples, suggested he must be as frustrated as myself. My cock felt hard as steel, sticking out at a right angle and supporting a heavy set of balls almost bursting with a need to unload themselves.

My normal inclination to assume the subservient position never even entered the picture and I found my hands on his shoulders encouraging him slowly down to his knees, his tongue drawing rivers down my chest, his teeth momentarily biting my nipples until finally my frustrated cock found itself in line with his willing mouth and my body quivering in anticipation as I felt his breath flow across it shortly followed by a wet tongue licking round the tip, it was crying for release and when his warm lips first encompassed the end of my circumcised shaft and his teeth nibbled lightly on the glans then quickly swallowed the whole six plus inches I nearly unloaded at once.

I pulled his head back and as he smiled up at me informed him of the fact but he just bent back down to his task with enthusiasm, his hands wandering back to clasp my arse cheeks, then, when I made no objection, his fingers made their way to the lips of my hole and first one, then two, fingers made a willing entrance as my legs bent to allow him easier access.

`Yes! Yes! Yes!'

I was almost at the point of no return anyway and when the hand not trying to shove a couple of fingers up my arse grabbed holds of my balls squeezing and pulling at them gently at the same time as his lips closed tighter round my throbbing cock I blew my load, again and again and again, over filling his mouth and straight down his willing throat finding it near impossible to keep from crying out. Being young and always randy, or so it seemed back then , I was more than ready to return the favour when he'd finished his administrations down below and rose up with a smile, licking the residue from his lips, and as our mouths met again and I could taste the result of his action I suggested as such.

`Not necessary,' he told me, `we'll be landing soon and I better give my mate a hand to get everybody ready.' Then, handing me a damp towel to clean up with while he used another on his face and straightened his short-sleeved shirt and tie, `He'll be jealous as hell I got to you first, he fancied you himself.'

Remembering that the other steward was also quite attractive with dark curly hair and a deep tan and feeling bold after our connection I told him, `Hopefully we meet again when I fly back next month then.'

Returning to my seat for the landing I was met with complete silence from the slob in adjoining seat, even when I had to climb over his legs to regain my own. I was aware of some sideways glances from him as I belted myself in, he must have heard something of what went on behind the curtain. Then, after the landing as we taxied toward the terminal he started again.

`You have to be careful who you mix with at your age. All sorts of rumours can start from being seen with the wrong people you know. The authorities can get a bit strict with someone who doesn't know their way around.'

I really don't like to be rude or to show off but by the time we stood up to disembark I was fed up with his hints along the lines that I should really reconsider who I left the airport with or it might cause me problems.

`I'm sure the authorities would also take a dim view of your trying to seduce a sixteen year old schoolboy, I know they will back in the UK.' He actually paled when hearing that. I suppose it was unfair in a way but I always did look much younger than my age and that was one of the few times I took real advantage of it. It didn't help to improve his state of mind when, at passport control, my remembrance of a few words in the local patois and, more probably, the name on my passport, got me waved straight through with smiles and never a glance at my cases while his were all opened and thoroughly turned over.

Waiting in the air-conditioned foyer of that small airport for my transport to appear I could already smell the hot sweet scent of warm humanity, so different from that in the UK, wafting in whenever the sliding doors swished open and was glad I'd decided to take my summer break back here where my family still had so many roots even if all my hopes didn't come up to fruition. As it was I felt more alive now than had been the case earlier what better way could there be to start a holiday than joining the mile high club.

The author welcomes comments at Ant-boy@hotmail.co.uk