The Exile A Gay Fantasy Experiment
** Disclaimer: The following work contains mature themes and graphic depictions of sex between men. If this offends you, don't read it. It is also unabashedly nerdy. You've been warned. **
Chapter One-
The town was oppressively quiet and somber, all trace of festivity and mirth gone as though it had never been. Doors and windows were shut and barred; by the laws of our people, nobody could watch me go. When morning came, it would be as if I had perished in the night, my existence as extinguished and forgotten as the ceremonial bonfire which now sat smoldering and ignored in the grand square. I would be dead to them - and for a moment the darkness and the unnatural quiet seemed so overwhelming and alien that I wondered if I wasn't dead in truth. And yet now I think the reality was quite the opposite. Rather than having died, I had not yet even begun to live; for this reason I have chosen to begin my tale here, with that cold, miserable night and the first few steps I took away from the village I had known since birth and began my journey as an exile.
I pulled the hood of my tattered and thin cloak over my newly shaven head and took my first steps. In the dark the giant trees of our forest that had always seemed like kindly guardians watching over my home now loomed like solemn and unfathomable warriors, sentries watching with unfriendly faces. Never before had I traveled more than an hour's walk from our home, and knew only vaguely what lay beyond. Now as the faint shapes and lights of the town faded into darkness behind me, I pondered which direction I should travel. I had no place to go, and therefore any direction was as pointless as any other; but, being all equal, I found it difficult to choose among them. At last, however, I felt a warm, comforting wind blowing at me from the north that contrasted sharply with the chill in the air. I felt a sudden desire to find the source of this warmth and found my feet leading me from whence it came.
Certain scholars insist, as I have since read, that all great phenomena are the result of the combination of many tiny, apparently insignificant events - and that if but one of these minutiae were even subtly different, the end of the whole would be vastly changed. It is so for great storms, or the formation of mountains, or even the fates of men. It is so with me, and never more obvious than here, at the very beginning of my tale. If I had ignored the wind, or been lost in thought and insensible to it, or found some other excuse to travel another way, I cannot say what may have happened to me. Perhaps I would have been happier, or perhaps, too, I could have found a tragic end. When I ponder the significance of that seemingly unimportant decision, it is enough to make me wonder if such coincidences are but one of the many manifestations of Omnipotence.
And so I headed north. After a few hours when I could not bring myself to take another step, I lay at the foot of one of the mighty trees and tried to bury myself under some of its fallen leaves for warmth, to little effect. I slept fitfully, flitting in and out of sleep and facing restless and anxious dreams. In several, I faced again the trials of the day. Again, I stood before my intended bride, both of us naked and perfumed, and found no magic in me. Again I kneeled in disgrace before my father and heard his words of rebuke. Again I faced my sentence and the crowd of disappointed, menacing faces. The mob tore and cut and shaved the hair from my body, and then brought a sharp knife with which to cut my manhood from me. At this I awoke with a start, and felt for my groin with irrational dread, but I was as whole there as I had been the day before. Nightmares summoned by baseless fears; the law forbids such mutilations of the sacred organs even to one such as me. Calmed, I fell again into sleep.
I found myself in a very different dream. I sat in a circular room carved out of smooth stone, with no apparent entrance or exit. On one side of the room sat an elegant round stone pedestal. On this sat a small cube, no bigger than my palm, which seemed to give off a gentle and entrancing light. As I approached it, it seemed I heard a faint and distant voice pleading for help in words too faint to be fully understood. Compelled by a power I could not explain, I reached out to touch it.
When my fingers were a hair's breath away, I felt a jarring pain in my side and the dream vanished. As I snapped back into the waking world, the pain returned again, more insistent. It was several moments before I realized I was being kicked.
"Eh!" said a coarse and unpleasant voice, "What have we here! It's alive, Bert!"
"What is it?" came a reply some distance away, "Can we eat it?"
I scrambled to my knees and tensed, expecting further blows. The first man cackled. "Not good eatin' this one, I s'pect."
"He's one of them forest folk, to be sure," said Bert, who was close enough now for me to make out his shape. "Aren't you?"
My heart was beating and I was wondering if I could outrun them, so I did not respond.
"A guard, maybe?" asked the first man, suspiciously, "There could be more of `em."
"Don't be a damn fool, Errold," said Bert disdainfully, "You and I both know these tombs' long deserted."
As quickly as I could, I spun my legs out from under me in a circle, as I had practiced many times, and knocked the first man, Errold, onto his back. I made a break for it then, running in a direction away from the two shapes. I had only gone a few steps however before I ran into something large and hard (not a tree, I could tell at once) and fell back, my breath gone from me.
"Better watch where you're going in the dark, my friend," said Errold, his throaty laugh echoing through the night as he got back to his feet. The black shape that had knocked me to the ground now loomed over me, and in the faint moonlight I could see the outlines of an improbably large face.
"Let's head back to the cave," said Bert irritably, "We`ll check the other traps tomorrow- it's too damn cold."
"Bring him, Gol," Errold commanded, and the big shape reached down to me with monstrous arms and lifted me like I was no more than a babe. I wanted to struggle, but such was the strength of the creature that held me that I knew at once it would be useless.
"Hold on to him tight now, Gol. They's clever fighters."
We walked some length of time in quiet through the trees, all the while my mind racing with thoughts of escape. I did not know was intended for me, and I devised all kinds of horrors that might be waiting for me at the hands of these cruel sounding men and their pet monstrosity. I had known that outside our village I would face perils, but I had not expected to encounter any quite so quickly. I cursed myself for not taking more precautions.
At length we reached a steep rocky hill that rose up to break above the tops of the giant trees. Errold led us to a slight opening at the base of the hill that opened up into a modest-sized cave. Inside were a number of packs of supplies, and a small ring of stones containing a rapidly diminishing fire. Bert threw some logs onto it from a neatly piled stack in the corner, and now I could see for the first time that he was carrying the corpses of what appeared to be two rabbits. He and Errold set about cleaning and preparing them. The two men looked quite young, had perhaps seen a handful of summers more than me, and were dressed in dirty, well-worn clothes.
"Set him down there, Gol," Errold told the creature, "And go guard the entrance."
I was deposited casually on the ground, and the giant lumbered out of the cave obediently. From the ground his size seemed even more impressive. I was one of the tallest men in my village, but it was half again as tall as I, and easily twice as wide. After it was gone, I continued to stare at the large footprint that he had left in the dirt in amazement.
"Bet you never seen the likes of him before, has ya?" Errold laughed. I shook my head. "The big folks are from up east, in the mountains. Gol -- Golmeir's his name -- is a little one by their reckoning. The biggest could use you for a toothpick, boy."
"What's your name?" Bert asked suddenly, not looking up from his work with the rabbits.
I decided it could do no harm to tell him. I cleared my throat, worrying that my voice would break when I spoke - I did not want to show them any sign of fear. "Markis," I managed.
"You from the village of the forest people, right?" he said, and it was not really a question. I merely nodded. "And what are you doing out here?"
"You ain't guarding the tombs, is ya?" interjected Errold suddenly.
"I know of no tombs," I said, "I've never been this far from the village until now."
Bert glared at his companion. "I told you. They don't even know what's under their own noses."
"You've got no hair," Errold observed, "Look, Bert! Hasn't even got eyebrows. Is all you folk like that?"
"None except the disgraced." There were questions in their looks, questions I did not want to answer. "I am an exile," I said simply, "An outcast." It was the first time I had spoken it aloud, and I felt a hallow pain deep in my bowels.
"So you won't be going to warn your brothers that we are here in their territory, then," said Bert.
I shook my head. "They care little what happens outside the village. You are in no danger. Please, let me go."
"Do you believe him?" Errold said, but Bert just shrugged.
"It doesn't matter. Can't risk it. We keep him with us for now."
"And then?"
Bert looked at his partner pointedly. "We will deal with that when the time comes."
I searched about in desperation. I carried no weapon (my blade - the symbol of my manhood - had been taken from me; I longed for it now) but that did not mean I was entirely defenseless. My people had taught the art of combat without arms for hundreds of years. Bert and Errold, however, had long daggers at their belts that could almost be called swords, and, more pressingly, a large friend covering the only means of escape. I would have to wait for my chance, and show no mercy when I had it.
The rabbits were cooked, and the two men began to eat greedily. The smell of the meat reminded me I had had nothing since the feast. My stomach began to ache for food but they did not seem inclined to share. Indeed, when the giant caught wind of the meat and entered hopefully, they cursed it and sent it back out again. It was clear that the creature (Golmeir -- it was strange to think it had a name) was no more than a slave to them, and I wondered why it obeyed when it could have overpowered both of them easily.
"You know nothing of the Anatherians, boy?" asked Bert, licking his lips and seeking for the last few bites of meat on the bone in his hands. I did not know the name he spoke, and I told him so.
"You should," said Errold, "They's your ancestors and all."
"It's true - your village is all that remains of a once mighty empire. Don't you even know your own history?"
I could recount the names of our High Priests back one hundred generations, but I knew nothing of an empire.
"Anatheria covered all the lands in these woods, and a great more besides. This was long ago, of course. See, the Anatherians liked to bury their dead in underground tombs, and they loved to bury `em with the riches they had gathered in life. That's where we come in."
"Your ancestors will make our fortune," cackled Errold, "The dead don't need no gold."
"Right you are," said Bert, happily, "Think of it... all that treasure, waiting hundreds of years for you and me to dig it up, eh, Errold?"
"Surely these tombs were pillaged long ago," I said.
"Most of them, to be sure," said Bert, "But not the one we go to tonight. It's hidden. But we got ourselves a map!"
Errold triumphantly produced a faded and rather ancient piece of parchment which he carefully unrolled to show it off to me. There were plenty of unintelligible drawings on it, which I could make no sense of, but most shockingly (and it was shocking indeed - so much so that for a moment I thought I was still in a dream) the entire parchment was covered in writing, a language I recognized only too well. I had not thought to see it again outside the temple of our village.
Bert saw the shock on my face, and must have taken it for confusion of a different sort. "It's in the ancient tongue of the Anatherians," he explained, "We`ve been given a translation, here. It gives us complete instruction on how to find the tomb of one of their leaders - royal blood!"
"Why do you bother with me?" I asked, "My people have no knowledge of this. I will not try to warn them, nor could I if I desired it. The way back to them is barred from me. Let me free, and I shall never speak of this, I swear."
Bert patted me on the head and smiled. "You're going to help us, boy. We need another strong back and a pair of eyes. Do your part well and we may let you go free after."
"You make any trouble, you'll be Gol's breakfast in the morning. He's hungry, make no mistake," warned Errold.
Having no choice, I nodded. I did not believe they would release me, but I had to make them believe that I did - else they would never let down their guard.
They had scouted the position of the tomb's entrance the night previous, for they only worked in darkness for fear of discovery by my people. I found their precautions peculiar -- as I had tried to tell them, they would find no opposition to their plundering from my village, who valued nothing save our traditions and held nothing sacred save the magics of our Priests and the ancient relics that rested in the temple. The owners of these tombs and the treasures they hid there meant nothing to them, ancestors or otherwise. All this I considered while being led to the entrance of the tomb. Bert kept his dagger pointed at my back, ready to strike, while Errold tended to Gol, who carried empty bags and tools suited to their task.
"Once we're in, grab anything you see that will fit in our sacks," Bert instructed me, "Unless you find a sword in a silver sheathe. Leave that to me."
"How does Errold feel about you claiming such a prize for yourself?" I asked. Strife between them would only do me good.
"The sword is not for me," Bert said, poking me gently with the tip of his dagger, "It's been claimed by another." He said no more, and I felt I would learn nothing by pushing the matter further.
At last we found it in small clearing, a strange stone shaped into a circle with a hole in the middle. It was eroded and crumbling, and the top had collapsed years ago. Bert commanded Gol to hold on to me, which it did quite tightly, as he fumbled to look at the map and its translation in the moonlight.
"{Seek we to enter, though unworthy.}" Bert said. He spoke, broken and badly, in the Sacred Tongue of our people, which none but the Priests and their acolytes may speak. I recognized the text as a passage from our holy rites, which I had studied since a boy. Hearing it profaned by this foul, ignorant man filled me with indignation and rage. I strained forward, wanting with all my heart to strike, but Gol held me ever firmer.
The men did not seem to notice my fury. They stared fixedly at the stone, waiting, but nothing happened.
"What's wrong?" Errold asked, "You said it would work!"
"Hold on, hold on," Bert said, "Maybe I didn't read it right."
"You said it would work, Bert! You said you knew what you was doing!"
Bert snarled at his companion. "Just give me a second!"
I had calmed enough to think clearly, and I saw my chance. "Let me," I said.
"You?"
"I know this language that you speak. You aren't pronouncing the words correctly. Tell your pet to release me and I will do it."
Bert and Errold exchanged suspicious glances. They did not trust me, but they were stupid, violent, greedy men. Their lust for the gold below was strong and I knew they would relent.
Gol let go and I took a few steps forward to the stone. I would be violating the statutes of my people and my order by speaking the tongue in front of these outsiders, but I reminded myself bitterly that I was no longer a part of either and could not be punished further than I had already. I would have no other chance. I took a deep breath and spoke aloud in the voice I had used daily in our ceremonies, low and resounding and authoritative.
"{Seek we to enter, though unworthy.}" My command of the language is flawless. I was once the pride of my teachers.
At once the stone sprang to life, moving by unseen forces to slide to the side, revealing a dark passageway below. Errold moved close to my side for a better look. He was totally entranced by the sight of the moving stone; he made an easy target. There are places on the body that, manipulated in such a way, easily render a man helpless. A child of my village could have done it. He collapsed before he knew what had happened. I turned swiftly, hearing Bert close in, and narrowly ducked a slash of his weapon. I brought my hands up quickly, striking under his jaw with an upward thrust, and he staggered back in pain. By the time he could think to look for me, I had disappeared into the tomb.
I had not gone far when I heard the noise of pursuit behind me. Though I had acted quickly and efficiently, I had throughout been filled with fear that Gol would intervene. Now I thought for a moment it had followed me into the tomb, but the footsteps and shallow breaths told me it was Bert. The tomb was dark, and I had nothing to light my way, so I ran blindly into the dark, feeling my way with my hands and fearing unseen dangers. There was a nauseating, ancient, rotten smell to the place that added to my anxiety. I soon found myself in a dead end. Try as I may I could not feel an exit to the room save the one where I had come in, and I could not backtrack without running into my pursuer.
"I know you are here, boy," came Bert's cold voice, filled with venom. "I know you think you might be clever, but when I find you, I promise I'll make you regret this."
I pressed my back against the cold stone wall and held my breath, knowing he was listening for any sound. He stopped, and I could hear him fumbling about his bag, and then the tapping of flint against steel. I rocked forward onto the balls of my feet, ready, knowing I would only have one chance.
Bert's torch flared to life, and I had him. He flinched in the light, and I closed the space between us in a breath, leaping onto him and knocking him down. His dagger skidded across the ground and, struggling to overpower him, I tried to reach for it with one hand. This he prevented by grabbing my wrist and pinning it to the ground while his other hand sought my throat. The torch, dropped and abandoned, sputtered out and we wrestled in the dark. I am quick, but Bert outmatched me in strength. I found myself quickly tiring, and knowing that soon he would gain the advantage. Twisting, he managed to roll over on top of me, pinning one arm behind my back. With the other I cast about for the dagger wildly, desperately, until I found it at last. I brought it with all my remaining strength into his back, and as he twisted in pain I pulled it out again and drew it across his throat.
For a while I sat in the dark, breathing heavily and feeling the pounding of my heart resound in every corner of my body. Though I had studied combat since my youth, I had never fought for my life, and I had never killed a man. I felt relieved to have won, and yet sickened. At once the tribulations of the day washed over me - my failure in the ceremony, my feeble pleading to the Elders, my sentence of exile, and the terror of being accosted in the night. I felt nauseous, dizzy, overwhelmed. I wished with all my heart that I would wake up and find this all to be a terrible dream. My stomach heaved, but there was nothing in me to vomit up. I leaned heavily against the cool stone of the tomb, afraid my legs could not bear me.
At last I seemed to return to myself and I searched the dark room for the torch, then Bert's body for his flint. With the help of the light, I claimed the ancient map and a few coins from the corpse's pocket. I had a vague plan to find some dark corner of the tomb to hide in until morning, with the hope of finding some other exit that would let me avoid running into Errold and his giant. The map was faded and complicated, and I was unsure, having ran so far inside in the dark, of my bearings, so I made my best guess and went to exploring. I found many rooms filled with the kind of trinkets that no doubt Bert had hoped to make his fortune on, but which held little interest to me. I was so weary that my eyes grew blurry and I stumbled about like a drunken man.
The tombs were more extensive than I would have thought possible and with growing anxiety I began to feel that I was lost. A dark gloom fell over me, and for the only time in my life I contemplated how easy it would be to end my misery with the quick swipe of a dagger. If any circumstances could have driven me to such extremes, it would certainly have been this. Never since have I felt so hopeless and miserable. At any rate, there was no further time to deliberate on such dark thoughts, for suddenly the ground rocked beneath me and the stone under my feet crumbled away. I fell into darkness, thinking my hour had come.
The drop was only a few feet, however, and despite a few scrapes and bruises I was relatively unharmed. The torch had been extinguished again in the fall, but I found to my surprise that I did not need it. The room into which I had fell was lit already by a fait, pale light. As the dust cleared and I recovered from the shock, I began to feel an eerie sense of recognition. I had been in this room before, I felt, and yet that was impossible. I cast about in my memory until I had it, and then I was filled with wonder and dread.
It was the room from my dream, that strange dream that had so entranced me up until the moment I had been roused by the blows from Errold's boot. It was exactly the same to the last detail - the circular stone walls, the low ceiling, the stone pedestal, all as I remembered. The light in the room was emanating from the small cube that had so fascinated me in the dream, and consumed my curiosity now. So stunned and confused was I by this turn of events (too staggeringly improbable to be coincidence) that I could not move and did not know what to think.
{Rise, son of Anather, and come to me.}
The voice seemed to echo in the chamber and inside my head, speaking the Sacred Tongue in soaring, graceful tones.
"Who's there?" I asked, and then in the Tongue: "{What are you?}"
{I am whatever you wish me to be.}
I stood warily, and took a few cautious steps towards the strange cube. "{What do you want of me?}"
{Only to serve you, Master. Release me, Priest, and I will be your willing slave.}
"{You know me?}"
{I felt you as you slumbered above and called out to you. Free me and give me life again, Master.}
"{I have no need of servants,}" I said.
I heard no laughter, but I felt joy in the silent voice. {But you do, you do! I can lead you from this place and protect you from enemies! Return me to my former glory and I will work wonders for you.}
I felt uneasy and unsure. I had heard tales of men making bargains with unseen powers, receiving blessings and gifts but always at terrible cost.
"{And what will you require of me for your help?}"
{Only that you feed me, Master. Give me but a few drops of your life.}
I could only puzzle at what this meant.
{Your body is an ocean in which flow many waters, each a spring of the divine life that is within you , life that you may condescend to offer me, your humble servant, that I may have power to aid you.}
"{How?}"
{The power I require to break my prison walls after so long is great, and the power to regain my former glory greater still. But the divine life is strong in you, Master. But a few drops of the life that flows through your heart and you will see your servant face to face.}
"{I am not sure,}" I managed to say.
{Do you not need a friend?}
I was lonely and afraid, as I have already made plain. Perhaps I should not have been so easily persuaded by such airy promises, but the thought of companionship of any kind in that dark and rotten tomb was a blessing to me, and in the end this decided me. With trembling hands I took Bert's dagger and pricked the tip of my forefinger. The voice murmured in pleased anticipation. For a second I hesitated, fearing to act rashly, but it was already begun. I squeezed a few drops of my blood onto the cube.
At once the cube dissolved before my eyes, and its light faded. The voice, once shapeless and seeming to originate from everywhere and nowhere at once, was now quite audible and apparently right behind my ear.
"{My liege and lord! My Master! You have my eternal gratitude, I am bound to you.}"
"{Where are you?}" I asked, looking about in the dark vainly.
"{I have no shape but that which you give me, Master. Let me enter in your mind, briefly, and know you - then I will have power to become that which you most desire and you shall see me.}"
"{Do it, then.}"
I cannot rightly describe in words what happened next. Only this can I say: afterwards, I had some suspicion of what a woman felt when her body was entered into by a man -- and indeed, when first I too was entered, the sensation was not altogether unfamiliar to me. A foreign presence was inside me, inside my mind. It was a violation, and yet not unpleasant. I inhaled deeply, and by the time I had released the breath it was finished.
"I am here, Master," came a soft voice. It used modern speech, but was instantly recognizable. "Light your torch, and let us see my new form."
"You speak my language," I said.
"I learned it from your mind, though I do not know how. Do not worry, I saw nothing there - I am not a telepath, to read and interpret your thoughts. I can only mold myself to them blindly. Come, look upon me."
"What will you look like?"
"You know already, Master, not I," the voice seemed to smile, "It will be a surprise to me. I have had many forms in the past - often women so beautiful that men grew faint to look upon them - but always shaped by the longings and the desires of the men I served."
I feared I knew, then, and in shame I did not wish to see. "I forbid it. Take some other shape."
"What other shape would my Lord wish save that which most would please him? Besides, I have not yet regained the strength to alter my form. I promise you will find only that which you desire."
"My desires are abomination," I said simply, "I beg you, do not show me."
"Light the torch, Master," there was gentle reproof and love in its voice, "Light, and face yourself."
I fumbled with the flint, but at last it sprung to life. My eyes flinched in the light, but as they adjusted I could make out another presence in the room.
Before me stood a naked young man. His blondish hair was disheveled and messy, and he stared back at me with cold blue eyes. His skin was smooth and flawless, his frame lean and muscular. In every aspect he was perfect, the incarnation of all my hidden fantasies. He looked down at his body in surprise, a small smile on his face. With his fingers he explored the light hairs on his chest, the thick ones at his crotch, and, at last, the final proof of his masculinity which hung heavily between his thighs.
"I see," he said at last.
I could hold back no longer. I wept as I had not done in many years, deep wrenching sobs of misery and, somehow, relief. I had never spoken of my deepest desires, had scarcely even acknowledged them to myself. I had not even confessed them to the Elders at my judgment, despite my certain dread that they had been at the heart of my failure. Somehow, however, I feared that my father had suspected the truth. It was why I had felt that I had deserved banishment and worse, and had gone with little protestation. To have my darkest secret laid before me now so plainly was excruciating and wonderful. I wept for it, for my exile, for my friends and loved ones never to be seen again, for the man I had killed, and for myself, now lost in the unknown world.
"Look on me," the young man said gently, for I had turned my face away, "Am I so repulsive to you?"
I could not help but confess the truth. "I had not thought such beauty was possible."
He smiled knowingly. "The beauty you see is your own."
His hands were on me then, stroking the flesh of my bare head gently, sending waves of comfort down my neck and back. I dried my eyes, wanting him to stop, longing for him to go on. His strong but gentle hands took the torch from me and began to remove my cloak.
"Stop," I muttered, offering only feeble resistance.
"Our work is not done, Master," he said lightly into my ear. His voice was like one of our temple drums, warm and noble in its vibration. "I require more gifts from you if I am to help you."
"More blood?"
"The waters of the body all hold the divine life, as I have said, but not equally. The waters of your heart are strong, but to feed on that alone I would require much and require it often, killing you. Happily, there are others, stronger still, that will not harm you in the giving."
"What are the other waters?" I asked nervously. His hands were exploring my body, and while I made no move to stop them I was not yet at ease.
"There are many. The weakest is that which is waste to you, and the most potent that which can create life. You know of what I speak?" He kissed my neck gently, as one might kiss the forehead of a babe, sending a shiver of delight down my spine.
I nodded, having now some expectation of what was to come and quickly losing the will to resist it.
"I have always thought it strange," he said, his hands exploring ever lower, "that by the design of the Creator the weakest and the strongest, the foulest and the most pure of all the male's waters should come from the same organ." His hands tightened on my groin.
"It is the shadow of a greater truth," I ventured, dizzy with pleasure, "In every man there is evil and good, wretchedness and nobility co-existing."
"You speak with wisdom, Priest," he said, removing my belt deftly and pushing down my trousers and smallclothes.
In the light of the torch I could see my nakedness, now fully exposed. By law, all the hair had been removed from my body, from every place, so that now I saw only smooth bare skin. It seemed unmanly and, though I strained with desire at my full size, I felt like a child.
"I am a Priest no longer," I protested.
He took me in his hand, and I jumped at the pleasure of it. "You cannot change what you are, Master, " he said, kneeling and smiling at me with his perfect eyes, "only what you may become."
The time for words had ended, for he wrapped his lips around my organ and took it fully into his mouth. I, a stranger to all the arts of physical love, threw my head back in surprise and let out a passionate cry. My hands reached for him, one running through his hair, the other caressing a muscled shoulder. Sensations approached too quickly for me to comprehend and process them, as he moved his tongue and lips expertly along my shaft. My mouth hung open, and I stared in shock at the stone ceiling, at the hole through which I had fallen.
So great was my desire and so intense were his movements that all too quickly I felt myself unable to stand his attention much longer without losing myself. At this very moment he stopped and looked up at me.
"What is your name, Master?"
"Markis. And yours?"
"As it pleases you," he said, "My true name cannot be spoken."
"I shall have to think on it, then," I said, and he grinned. His smile was so appealing that I could not help but kneel and kiss him, while we continued to stroke each other. His tongue caressed mine, our hands picked up speed, and our bodies strained with greater urgency.
I pulled away from the kiss with great effort. "My time approaches," I warned.
"Thank you for this gift, Master," he said.
"And you?"
"You are kind. I will share your pleasure, for we are bound now as one."
He returned me to his mouth and began his work in earnest. His hands roamed my body freely, and I at last found myself relaxing fully. Tension I had not known I had was melting from me, and I knew I could not endure a second longer.
With a great cry that seemed to shake the entire tomb, I released and shook with pleasure. He swallowed every drop of my seed greedily, hungrily, his body shaking in time with my own. There was an instant change in him. His skin, already so perfect and inviting, grew ever more beautiful and seemed to radiate with an invisible power. When at last I had emptied myself completely, he pulled apart and stood before me bathed in glory, like a heavenly messenger. I stared at him with a mixture of awe and fear.
"I shall call you Damon," I said, choosing the name of an angel from the holy texts.
It was only later, when I had woken briefly from a peaceful slumber and found us intertwined and naked on the cold stone floor, that I realized with some inexplicable anxiety how closely the name I had bestowed upon him resembled the word demon.
** Questions, Comments, Feedback? Want to shoot the breeze? Feel free to e-mail me at thephallocrat@gmail.com. This is a new experience for me, and I'd love to get some responses from readers. **