Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/the-heathens/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty TODAY at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.
Stop the spitting and snipping or I will... Oh ho! That was your plan? To earn the punishment you want? And what if I just turn over and oh, oh, oh. That is so very not fair, my p-p-p-p-p-pupp-pp-pppy...
~~ I think there was more to the story that night, but I can't seem to recall the words...
The Heathens 26: Conclusions, Aletheia
By Bear Pup
I woke far earlier than normal, snuggled in the powerful arms of my master but taking little comfort from it. The fading dream was... annoying. Strasta had made an appearance and asked me for a number of words in my own language. They included 'prude' and 'mean' and 'greedy' and 'spoilsport' and 'whiny' and 'selfish' and 'killjoy'. The final straw and the one what woke me was 'curmudgeon'. It really pissed me off that hating a fellow Christian was a mortal sin!
But he was right, that rat bastard. When I got down to the brutally-honest part of my soul, I knew it wasn't cheating on Harcos that upset me; it was the idea that Harcos might want lovers other than me. My visceral rage at the boys had really been fear, and not for Harcos but of somehow losing him. As if I were the master and he the servant.
The man I'd sworn in my heart and soul to serve and obey in all but the most horrific things had told me it would make him happy to watch me 'play the hound', and even praised both Marcus and Strasta for doing exactly that; it delighted him. And I, instead, played the child. A man of his might needed more than a single lover and he needed distractions as well, and he deserved them. With those he chose or those I seduced, he would delight in watching me play just as he had delighted in the dalliances of Marcus and Strasta. Who was I to deny him that pleasure? How selfish and petty could I be?
These were not the sudden, blinding realisations I'd had in the past. They were difficult, slow and painful, leaving me deeply disappointed in myself. Harcos finally stirred and I drank his night-piss as he sighed appreciatively. He grunted in surprise when I pulled off after consuming the last drop instead of sucking him to climax. "Harcos, my Aldus, I am so very sorry."
"For what, Kucuk. Why? What have you done?" He yawned hugely.
"I have been like a spoiled child, wanting to consume you for myself and jealous to boot. I understand now what you said, that playing the hound with others does not... doesn't m-m-m-mean that our bond is weakened. I will play the hound with others because it will please you. If... when you wish to bring another to your bed, I will make him as happy as I make you. I will make you proud of me, and take joy in your enjoyment of it. I swear it."
Harcos rubbed sleep out of his eyes and tried to focus. "You speak in nonsense words, Kucuk. When did I say that I wanted others in my bed?"
Now it was my time to be confused. "But you encourage me to flirt so you can enjoy my play, and I resisted it, was selfish of it. If it brings you joy to see me dally with the others, I will do it gladly. And you felt that I would object to sharing you, sharing your strength and sex and... other things. I am ready, my Aldus, to make you happy in this as in everything else. I am here to please you in... all... things..." My voice trailed off as storm clouds overtook my master's face.
"We will speak of this later." His voice was cold as stone. "Dress and prepare to break our fast, K--." He did not even finish my name; he simply sighed deeply and threw on a tunica and left. Stunned, I dressed for the road and ran out. Harcos was nowhere to be seen. I set about the fire (I was the first of the boys up today and it was just lightening in the east) and started the water to heat as Harcos came back and went immediately into the tent. I had not yet made it inside when Harcos, voice weary and sad, said, "Not this morning. I have much to think of. Please attend to the breaking of fast, young one." He never turned to me.
'Young one'. Not 'Kucuk' or 'Dasqas' or even 'my something-or-other'. 'Young one'. I shook as I pulled together the grains for the meal. 'Young one'. I relieved myself as the sky lightened. 'Young one'. I flicked away inquiries by the other boys. 'Young one'. I let the tears flow silently and made sure they were dry long before Harcos could see them. 'Young one'.
The day passed in a blur of grey dust. We fell in alongside the face of a series of ridges to our West that blocked the rain, so the soil was loose, barren, empty. It fitted my mood. 'Young one.' What had I done? I replayed everything in my mind over and over. The cart I pulled was forgotten entirely, the straps across my chest might well have been ribbons; all the pressure and pain was on the inside now.
We lunched in the shade of a broken wall with two stunted trees, perhaps the shattered shrine of a local god or a stable for livestock, now a tumbled ruin. Harcos spent the time in muttered conversation with Pameten, then with his countryman, Sziklak. He never looked toward me at all, but the others did, glancing on occasion as Harcos spoke. They did not seem upset or angry, simply sad and disappointed.
As dusk approached, we came alongside a fairly-large compound with perhaps a half-dozen dwellings and a large number of outbuildings. A miniature horde of children, laughing and chattering, descended upon us. The warriors were tense and fierce until it was clear that kids were not only friendly, but openly solicitous. Their trade language seemed stilted and strange, but I understood it and Furge seemed comfortable with the sounds.
It quickly became clear that the extended family that held this place delighted in Roman travellers (and their money) and they offered soft beds, hearty food and a safe night in exchange for a shockingly-modest amount of coin. Each warrior was shown to a private hovel of wattle-and-daub construction, well-chinked against the wind and quite comfortable. Each had a raised-platform bed with an actual straw-tick mattress, a true luxury in the wilderness, as well as a large pitcher of fresh water and a thick pottery bowl.
The meal was a thick mutton stew with a coarse bread of buckwheat and barley and was actually quite good and filling. The oldest of the kids as well as the youngest of the wives (it was clearly a Christian home with plenty of each) made it clear that they could also be 'persuaded' to join a warrior for the night. Bu, the only one unaccompanied, was both the primary target and the only one that was really interested. He finally settled on a pair of girls, each of marriageable age but young. He retired first with the giggling pair and clearly had a very pleasant night.
The family even had a Roman-style latrine with seats, a nice touch, and Harcos and I retired while most of the others stayed for music and other petty entertainments. I followed him closely, desperate to make up for whatever offense I had given. I helped him carry the strongbox and his roll of weapons inside, trusting the rest to the promises of the family (and the sure knowledge of retribution if anything was disturbed).
Harcos finally heaved a massive sigh and pointed to the foot of the bed. "Get undressed. Sit." He stripped his own clothing as I did as I was instructed. He sat on the far end of the bed and simply frowned at me. I was on the edge of babbling when he finally broke his silence. "You do not understand how or why you hurt me so much this morning, do you?"
I gasped and rocked back. "No, please, no! I would never! I love you, Harcos, you are my saviour, my Aldus! What have I done?"
He sighed again, a depth of sadness there that ripped at me. "I have opened myself to you, young one. I promised to treat you as a son and a valued companion, not a slave or servant." His voice was level, implacable, irresistible. "And yet you imply that I only care about my own sexual pleasure, my own selfish needs. I tell you that you are free to explore your sex and you throw it back at me, saying that you will try if it pleases ME to watch you cavort with others. I tell you of other companions, Marcus and Strasta and more, who it pleased me to make happy and you twist it to where I only do so for my own satisfaction." I started to speak and he silenced me with a sad, almost-forlorn look.
"And I cannot even rebut it. For to say that it displeases me, disappoints me, hurts me is simply to state in reverse that which I reject, that it's about me and not you. I have thought through the day and spoke with those closest to me. The family here is of your faith, is happy and prosperous, and has youth of both sexes with whom you can find happiness." I began to shake and could feel my face go white, my hands and feet go ice-cold. "I will leave them a dowry to ease your acceptance, and leave you, young one, with enough that you can travel elsewhere if you wish."
I sat, dumbfounded, bereft, destroyed. "You may, if you wish, sleep here with me this night or wherever pleases you." He stared at my unmoving and unspeaking form for a long, long time. "Have you nothing to say, young one, nothing after our time together?"
I rose to shaking legs, my body trembling uncontrollably, and stumbled to the weapons roll, pulling out the longer of the swords Harcos normally wields. "I have but one request, my Aldus. In lieu of dowry or gift, leave just this sword."
He frowned, nonplussed. "If you so wish. May it serve you well. But why?"
"You now are the one who does not understand. Leave it lodged in this body, my Aldus. For you have taken my reason for life over the last half-hour. I have no need of this body any longer. I will not live with these people, with any people. I will serve you and only you until the end of my days. And you have decided that service is at an end, and thus so are my days ended." I let the sword thump to the mattress in front of his knees. I knelt beside the bed, pulling my hair to the side to leave my beck bare.
"If you prefer some other weapon, that does not displease me. I chose this one solely because I saw you use it to grant the mercy of eternal peace to the brigand on the road, and wish no more than that." I meant it with all my soul. I welcomed death. Harcos was right. I had so misunderstood him, his kindness, even his love that I did not deserve to serve him, and thus had no reason to continue.
I thought, briefly, whether this would be deemed suicide by the Lord, but rejected that. It wasn't by my own hand, not really. It was no different than lying down at the end of a full life when you are no longer needed and allowing death to take you. My purpose, my life, had a single meaning: to serve Harcos. With that tasks at an end, the One True God could not expect that I would continue to simply exist for no reason.
I listened to Harcos shift and move. I expected to cringe and cry and feel true fear, but all I felt was rightness as I heard him heft the sword above me. I sighed and whispered in Greek, the language of Luke, "Pater, eis sou cheir papatithemi mou pneuma." The final acceptance of the Lord Christ: Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.
Marcus
Six years I served Harcos, ending some seven years ago. Let me tell you of it. I was young when I joined him, and it took me oh so long to understand this massive bear of a barbarian. I had not, and truth-told still have not, seen a man as ruthlessly-efficient or effective in battle. I have often wondered if, when the gods come visiting, their vessels know. For I could see Mars in this mountain of a man.
Actually, no, let me start at the ending. We were afield in Galatia (soon after to become Lycaonia) facing yet another Gallic insurrection. A small, elite force of the vermin had, during the height of battle, cut the hobbles and spooked the mules, driving them and every cart, chariot and curricle into the field where we awaited our masters. This was to have been a simple exercise, a show of force, and it actually did crush the rebellion in mere days. The Gallic raid, though, also crushed my ankle. Harcos returned and flew into a rage like I had never seen. He installed me with a friendly healer from the cohort and gathered the As he led.
Harcos was Optio of the first Century of the Second Cohot, thus also the leader of the first As. He was perhaps seventh in the overall chain of command depending on which nobles joined a given campaign. The As was Txakur, his closest friend; Fede, his second in command and fourth in command of the Century; Lanza, the incredibly-young man later famed for his prowess with the javelin in the Games of Diocletian; Delfus, who got his name because he prophesied defeat and disgrace at every turn and thus was invaluable in making contingency plans; Chevron, named for the double-bladed, angled sword he carried beneath his tunica; Paidi, named long, long before when he really was just a moppet; and Chabuk, one of the faster men I'd ever seen move.
Harcos dispatched Fede to the Centurion to explain that -- not ask whether -- he and the rest of the As would move to destroy the small raiding band. They were back just after nightfall. Harcos never spoke to me, but I saw the volume of blood on his and the other men's gear. It was certain that none lived of those who caused my injury, and their deaths had not been those of warriors, but of rats. Harcos lost his command that day for his actions and he never cared. My fever came the next day, and broke just as the rebellion was destroyed, the day upon which its leaders crucified. My wound still seeped, but it was clear now that, with the help of the gods, I would heal.
We all knew that my time with the Legion, Cohort, Century and As was at an end, and a number of friends came to say goodbye. When the camp readied to move, Harcos took me to a nearby village where we found a massive hive of Christians, the latest infestation of this part of the Empire. Truth told, there were far more that paid cult to this upstart man-god in all of Anatolia than did so to the official patron, Sol Invictus, or any of the other gods of Rome. I was in no mood for it, but the place really was delightful.
There were four that might serve, two of the them boys. The elder was likely to be married within the year and was frankly gorgeous. I had once seen a sculpture, and ancient thing from the time of the legends when Alexander rode these spaces, showing a defeated Galacian, side pierced, with a perfect body, heavy manhood and dense hair above the lip without a beard. This young man could have been that statue brought to life. His name was Petarcus and I could feel Harcos take an interest.
One of the girls they offered, Miriamal, was about as beautiful a woman as I'd seen in many months; luckily for me, my master's tastes did not run along those lines. Another girl was presented and dismissed out of hand; too young and thin to take on the burden even if Harcos liked a woman's touch. Finally, almost reluctantly, they offered a slightly-younger son. Perhaps sixteen summers, he had most of his growth and his voice had dropped, but none of that mattered.
I was seated in front of Harcos, his thigh forming a shelf upon which my mangled leg could rest. When this little piss-ant was brought forward, I was damned near dumped out of my master's lap so forcefully did his manhood spring to attention. The boy had none of the grandeur of Petarcus, but glowed with a radiance that could not be explained. And he was a healer to boot, and quite unassuming in many ways. You could tell from his look that he had a quick mind and a willingness to serve, and that he was in absolute awe of my barbarian master. I hated him instantly. Loathed might be a better word. Detested, perhaps? Anyway...
From that moment, Harcos looked at either the parents or that horrid little slip of a man-child. No other human got his attention, unless he looked to me for translations or advice. As we negotiated for a place to spend the night, the little serpent disappeared; I fervently hoped he'd accidentally slithered over on a scorpion and died quietly someplace out of the way.
No such luck. We were shown to the door of the lead-husband's bedchamber and Harcos carried me through. There waiting was that little fucker. He was naked, hard, greased and smelled of an upscale whorehouse. He was circumcised like all Jews and most of that breed who'd adopted the new cult. Not huge, but not bad. Nicely shaped even considering the religious mutilation. Small, compact balls and apparently the family took care to groom the hair in that part; uncommon outside noble families in those days and certainly rare in the backwaters of the Empire.
The vile little heathen rushed forward and took me from Harcos, nearly collapsing under my weight. Sadly, I was unable to crush the impudent bug before he had me in a bower. He spun and began, amusingly, to try and figure out the uniform's ties. I was quite vexed that he had so little trouble.
When he reached the loincloth covering the most important part of Harcos, he paused and looked up, then undid the tie with trembling hands. He gasped like a virgin and I smiled. NOW we'd see the little prick's comeuppance! I couldn't wait to see him either flee the room and shrink back in horror at the thought of taking that monster. I'd spend over a month training myself to accept it!
Instead, in execrable not-quite-Latin, the little nightmare asked to touch Harcos. I choked on a laugh as Harcos turned to me in utter confusion. "I think he's asking permission to touch 'your most sacred parts', Harcos. He's asking if he's allowed to touch your cock!" Harcos and I shared a bawdy laugh and my master looked down and winked.
My jaw dropped almost as quick as that little serpent's. And I say serpent for a reason; snakes are the only things I'd even known who could unhinge their jaws. That apparently-small mouth dove over my master's mammoth cockhead and I could tell from the groan of pleasure that his tongue was attacking the tenderest places beneath Harcos' foreskin. The whelp moaned in delight at what he found there and I felt my own mouth water. Harcos after a day on the road would have little bombs of flavour under there that I longed to taste again.
It was, perhaps, my last really coherent thought that night. I was furious, in pain, unhappy and uncomfortable. I was also horny as hell. Over the hours of night, that little fucker took me on a sexual adventure the likes of which I'd rarely known, and completely blew my master's mind. Not only did he take Harcos, he rode the barbarian like a pony! At one point when I was completely insensate from an explosive orgasm, he redressed my ankle and I nearly fainted, first from the sharp pain and then from its inexplicable absence. Fuck if I know what he did, but it was as if my ankle wasn't even there any more, taking the pain with it.
And that kid could FUCK. He did things with cock, throat and ass that I'd heard of in raucous warrior boasts of conquests past, but to have it done -- over and over! -- to myself and Harcos was revelatory. And the little shit never let up! It was like he had some inexhaustible supply of fuck-itude upon which he could draw.
When I came back to consciousness, he was drinking my piss and sucking yet another load out of my painfully-dry balls. He did the same to Harcos. I had always known that his dick in my mouth was his favourite way to greet the day, and this little monster was a fucking natural. I heard a tooth crack as I clenched my jaws so tight in rage and a desire to throttle the prick.
He moved to redress my wound and both Harcos and I gasped in shock. Nothing seeped, no trace of blood or serum, and the swelling was as if it had healed for a week. There was no pain. I could not put weight upon it, but it was inexplicably on its way back to health. I shared a resigned look with Harcos and muttered. "You have always been right, you wonderful bastard. He's perfect."
Harcos toyed with the family some, far less than I thought fair. And he paid them more than I would have for the whelp. Okay, admittedly what I'd have paid for that fucking little monster was found in the night-soil bucket, but still...
I spent that day and the morning of the next teaching the pricklet all I could of what he needed to know. In turn, he whispered all of the secrets of the family that would make it easy for me to join them as an equal. He also arranged for me to have a 'more comfortable' bower that night away from Harcos. I raged at my master with considerable invective as he just smiled at me as if I were speaking some Eastern tongue. My protests died rapidly when Miriamal appeared to tend and dress my wound... as well as everything else I had. If nothing else, this family knew how to teach the subtlest arts of lovemaking.
I cried that next day, unashamedly, as Harcos left forever. He'd vested me with what, had the family known of it, would have changed the way they treated me. In their corner of the Empire, it was a princely fortune. I hid it and forced them to see me as any other suitor. They quickly found me pleasant and useful, if prone to crying jags in the early months.
I married Bet formally to join the family, not Miriamal, as thus became wed to the other wives as well. Miriam was an able and ruthless organiser, but also a genuine and kind soul with a magic touch with the herbs. Ruth was shrewd and careful, and unofficially cared for all the moneys and properties unless negotiation was required. She was too much the shrew to get the best bargains.
Bethel was, on her best days, slightly smarter than the chickens, but she was a demoness in bed and thus perpetually pregnant. Edissa was the other healer-wife with Miriam and her magic seemed to be with the treatment of inner diseases, including demonic possession; she also crafted the powers and potions required by my lead husband when he battled such fiends. Cara and Laura were twins and the youngest of the wives save for my first-bride, Bet. They were masters of the loom.
My co-husbands were Senior Father (his given name of Paulus) Praveden and Petar. Of the three, Senior Father was devout, devoted and loving. Petar knew everything about everyone, instantly, as if it were written upon their foreheads. He was always kind -- in the end; he had the sharpest tongue I'd seen outside of army Prefects. Praveden was the workhorse of the family, willing to take any task and lift any burden, as well as fuck anyone who'd hold still long enough. He was the only one who did not consummate the marriage with Bet since she was his beget upon Edissa, his own first-bride.
I was shocked to silence when I found out just how well (and how) they trained their family for the sacrament of sex. I thought I got laid in the Legion?!? I quickly took to eating celery, nuts, rye and ginger at every turn just to keep my nuts from shrivelling up! One, a boy named Ionus, took to me early and made me his primary (male) instructor. I never imagined that one person could have so much insatiable need! And certainly not that such a one would think that I alone could fulfil it!
He is one of the ones who has started his own line now. My monies secretly gave him the means to become a profitable abattre and butcher. He does, of course, take our family's livestock at a discount. He'd better, since he has me come over and fuck him senseless about once a month. His wives, Beryl and Pearl, love the noises he makes on such occasion and, apparently, he is in rut for days afterwards. He currently has nineteen summers, three wives, five children and is courting an additional co-husband with his own two wives. A perfect Christian and no mistake!
After Ionus settled (a bit), Iacob came into his seed. He is in his sixteenth summer now. For two solid years he made it clear he had no interest in girls, and that he had complete interest in, well, me. I thought that Ionus was tough; Iacob made me and most of those I knew in the Legion -- including the legendary Bu -- look like dabblers in the art of love. I finally had to turn him loose not only on his brother Ionus, but two similarly-aged young men each from the other Christian families! He is a marvel and my greatest pride. I am considering sending a message to Harcos (or those he trained if the great barbarian has fallen); Iacob would make a wonderful servant.
My test as junior husband came more quickly than I would have hoped. A band of former Legionnaires who'd turned to brigandry crept into the valley a mere two months after I arrived. They first raided a small family, taking two young daughters and all livestock; the girls were found brutally raped and left for dead, barely alive, three mornings later. Even with Miriam and Edissa's expertise, they died within hours.
My ankle was healed enough, though not really well. We enlisted the help of two other overtly-Christian families and I organised us into a small force, a heavy As. We fell upon them in the early hours, eleven strong to their eight. When they laid dead, we found that we had lost three, including the gorgeous Petarcus who'd been struck through the spine with a pilum. The other two were a junior husband and a son from one of the other families.
We buried them as Christians (a faith I'd adopted) and fed the corpses of the evildoers to the hogs. Petarcus had been betrothed to a daughter from the third family and another of a crypto-Christian family, intend on starting his own line. In honour of that agreement, we absorbed the wife-to-be of the third family, Rachel, as our own; the family that lost the son and father married Evelyn into their line.
That was seven years ago now. Petar is Senior Father now and two or 'our' sons have established strong families in the valley. Six of our daughters are now wed, three to existing lines and three to new ones, including one, strange marriage where they insist they will have only each other. A single wife and a single husband? How will they survive? How could anyone expect such a pattern to thrive or survive?
Otherwise, I think of Harcos often, and each year take a day to mourn when I was injured, losing him, followed by a day of celebration marking when I joined my true family. It is a blessed life, and Harcos was the blessing.
Strasta
Seven years I served Harcos. He told me often of the adventures and misadventures of Marcus. It made him very happy when I explained how my own family worked, how they viewed sex and play, how they considered it delightful to both God and man. He laughed so long and so hard when I'd tell him of my own entry into full communion when I came into my seed, and how hard I worked Petar above all. And of Ionus, balls just dropped as I joined Harcos to be followed quickly by Iacob who I was certain would have little interest in girls. He was delighted at the thought of Marcus driven to distraction (and dry nuts) by my brothers as they came into their seed. He exact words were, "Serves the randy bugger right!"
Ah, if only it worked like that in my new family. It was as if the One True God set a maze for me, one that every logical, simple, scriptural answer was twisted to something unrecognisable. With the Demon gone from Mother and Mother dead as well, Father became a shell. He accepted food for three days, then ceased to do even that and died. We buried him as a Christian next to the husk that (I silently hoped) had been a true Christian before she was possessed.
As the hired Heathens built our new home, we dug a trench around the old one and filled it with heavily-salted water, trapping any other demons within. The new house was so simple that it was ready in eight days. Ismet and Inkar, under my protection from devils, stripped the old hovel of everything of value and use. As we set about creating our new home, we waited for a windless day and, with ceremony, burned the demon-infested one.
The act of setting it alight, with each member of the family throwing brand after brand into the doors or thatch, was a second exorcism. Inkar went from a trembling convert to a sure and strong man of God. He took new names: From Inkar (Denial) he became Qebul (Acceptance); within the Brotherhood of Christ, he is now Tomah, the one whose doubt proved the truth of the Risen Christ.
Ismet blossomed like a primrose, going from bud to bloom seemingly in the blink of an eye even as the fires caught. She who had been Chastity became Fereh (Rejoicing, Rapture, Joy) and took the Christian name of Miriam, as my own senior mother. She was already flirting with an absolutely delicious young builder before the ashes settled. They moved into the Room of Waiting since none of the wives (obviously) was with child.
Fereh and Amit -- together and allowing no other assistance -- built their own home on our model at the far edge of our property. The boy has no ass to speak of but a mouth that will make any co-husband and every wife happier than a human has a right to be. They do not yet know that I have purchased the lands to our East, adjacent to their new home, as a dowry.
Gunah is of the age of his own flowering and has come to me for instruction even without me asking. Even before his growth begins or his seed arrives, I know that he will be a randy little bugger. He has shed the name meaning Sin and taken, instead, Qocaliq, meaning manhood or virility, and proudly looks forward to fulfilling that name in no uncertain terms. He is Petra among the faithful, the rock upon which we will build our family.
My new wives, Pakliq and Safliq, are perhaps the most changed, though. They had been silent and staring creatures; now they laugh constantly and with a will, and do all but rape me of an evening. I've warned Fereh to expect to move soon, at least if Pakliq (Innocence! HA!) has anything to say about it. And the newly-minted Qebul already has his eye on the daughter of the local welldigger, and I have to admit she has a truly impressive ass and is rumoured to be an excellent cook. I have taken to teaching Etiqad the healing herbs, and the randy little Qocaliq seems to also have an affinity.
I have been too busy (and it is still too soon) for me to truly mourn the loss of Harcos. Another part is that I dream frequently of the little prick that took my place. I hope and pray that they are true visions from the One True God and not simply wishful thinking. He is very good for Harcos, in some ways (I refuse to admit it anywhere but here) better than I was. Harcos was in a rut (as well as being in rut) with me, always pleased but rarely surprised or delighted. If the dreams are true, he is constantly one or the other (or both) with the one that had been called Shame.
Kucuk (?)
The sound was one of pain and uncertainty and fear and anger, a primordial sound. I could hear the air split along the blade, bits of dust, perhaps, cloven in twain by the sharp edge's forceful passage. I wondered what it would feel like, to die? Harcos would make the cut swift and painless, but what of the saints who carry their heads as they preach the Gospel? How long, I wonder, will I lay here thinking before God takes me into His arms?
What I did not expect was the sound. I guess it makes sense. Bones must make some noise as they are rent, but I never expected the crack of brittle clay and splintering of reeds. Nor did I anticipate the brush of a leg as Harcos steps over my dead body, through the door and away. I mean, I expected SOME sort of pain, SOME sensation as the blade struck, but I lay there, wondering where my head ended up after the blow but all that happened was, well, nothing. I was beginning to panic -- what if the One True God had abandoned me? What if I was cursed to lay here forever, another ghost to annoy passers-by?
I certainly did not expect the first words of the Angels of the Lord to be, "Oh, for fuck's sake, Kucuk. What did you do now?" That St Peter (or maybe Gabriel) sounded so much like my friend Volot, the Ox, was another source of confusion. "Well, don't just lay there like a back of clothes. Tell me what the fuck you did to Harcos." I felt him drag me upwards and was rather shocked and disappointed to find all my parts, including head, attached as normal.
"Whu?"
"Harcos is over there right now crying -- I mean like CRYING -- all over Pam and the whole damned hovel. Pam kicked me to come find out what the hell you did. He thought maybe you'd got yourself killed or something. What the hell is going on?" I began to weep then, and then to babble, Volot holding me and rocking me and trying to comfort me in a way that I could at least start to make some sort of sense. I guess I did eventually as he got sombre and petted me more seriously, eventually coaxing me to a fitful, restless, Harcos-less sleep.
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Canvas Hell: 32 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 24 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 26 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Lake Desolation: 18 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/ Shark Reef: 11 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/ Culberhouse Rules: 9 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/ Raven's Claw: 7 chapters .../authoritarian/ravens-claw/ Ashes & Dust: 2 chapters .../rural/ashes-and-dust/