Part Four: Bergamot
The following morning Lord Phanomyong met with his senior ministers to discuss the dry business of governing, something which the former warrior found difficult to concentrate on at the best of times. After the previous night with the Chosen One, he found it was impossible to think of anything else other than the beauty of the young boy, and the intense and unusual pleasure he had brought him. Many times his First Minister had to bring his attention back to matters on hand, and Lord Phanomyong finally left matters in the hands of his First Minister and left the meeting.
That afternoon, although suffering from indigestion, he received several nobles from the far western reaches of the Land of the Tiger Eye. Scented candles and packets of dried flower petals and spices placed around his throne masked his flatulence, and the presence of the Chosen One helped to distract the nobles so they did not notice his growing discomfort. As he noted the admiration in their eyes as they gazed upon the boy, he wondered what they would say if they knew the slight boy had tied their Lord to the bed posts the night before and had made him cry out with such desire as a virgin maiden might the first time her husband introduced her to the joys of that one-eyed serpent that nested under the robes of all men.
He left the Chosen One to eat in his room that night while he took counsel with his physician regarding his illness. The ancient prescribed an enema and rest, but the Lord chose instead the company of his Chosen One. Despite his discomfort, he had been thinking of nothing else all day other than spending the evening with the boy. Last night had been most satisfying, and if the boy's simple massage could result in such pleasure, then the taking of the boy's virginity would be exquisite, possibly the most exquisite experience of his life. So great was his lust for the boy, and his desire for the ultimate erotic experience, that taking the boy's virginity that night was what he fully intended on doing despite his illness.
Once again the boy arrived clothed only in his white thong and four new multicoloured scarves and carrying his wicker basket. Motioning for the boy to approach the bed upon which he was sitting, the warrior-lord looked longingly at the near naked boy and reached out and ran his fingers through the boy's fine, thick hair. Fresh and clean and as dark as a moonless night, it was appropriate on him just as having the Chosen One before him shaved bald was appropriate for him. A stomach cramp suddenly seized him and as he winced he broke wind with a loud, odorous crack.
"My Lord is still not well?" the boy asked with concern.
"No," Lord Phanomyong responded, collapsing on his back and running a hand over his expansive stomach.
Lifting himself up onto the massive bed, the boy knelt beside his master and untied the wide sash of his robe. Gently opening the silk garment, he exposed his master's broad chest and bulging stomach. He ran a small, hot hand over the expansive stomach, and the fresh, clean smell of the boy and the feel of his hot hand on his flesh replaced the warrior-lord's discomfort with desire, as the great Lord had hoped it might.
"With my Lord's permission, I can help," the boy said softy.
"There is only one pleasure that can make me forget this discomfort," Lord Phanomyong replied, reaching out and running his hand over the boy's soft cheek. His stomach rumbled and he passed wind a second time. Despite the foulness, the boy, already well advised in the ways of a catamite by the old woman assigned to look after his needs, gave no indication of having noticed.
"There is that," the boy said simply, looking directly into his master's eyes with neither eagerness nor fear but only the resolve of one who has accepted the inevitable. "But there is another."
"Then you have my permission to proceed," his master said with an indulgent smile, "but do not think that relieving me of my discomfort absolves you of the duty you have been chosen to perform."
"My Lord," the Chosen One replied, bowing his head in respect, "I would never deny my Lord the pleasure for which I have been chosen. But," he continued with the same wide, innocent eyes and coquettish smile as the night before, "if a boy could relieve the discomfort of his master, and provide his master pleasure like he has never felt before besides, pleasure that would make slipping his sword into the boy's sheaf the lesser pleasure, can that be a wicked thing?"
Lord Phanomyong laughed at the question that again could have but one possible answer. "If the pleasure is like nothing I have ever before experienced, Chosen One, then I swear I shall leave the joy of sinking my shaft up your young, virgin portal for another night. But if you fail, you will bend over and accept your destiny."
"That I would do eagerly, my Lord, for such is not only my sworn duty, but my ardent desire," the boy replied, as he had the night before, and like the night before, the sincerity and humility in his voice was reflected in his eyes, and Lord Phanomyong knew the boy had spoken the truth. He turned the vials of the chronometer over and lay back down on his back.
The boy removed the first of his silk scarves and reached out for his master's thick wrist, and again the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle humoured the boy and allowed himself to be tied to the bedposts for a second time. Opening his wicker basket, the boy removed a brown earthenware jar and unstoppering it, he poured a small amount of the pale orange oil in his left palm and rubbed his palms together. Lord Phanomyong recognized immediately the sharp aroma of bergamot, that pear-shaped orange that grew in the southernmost reaches of his land.
Kneeling up on the bed beside his supine master, the boy ran his oiled hands over his master's firm, swollen stomach. The skin on his bloated stomach was as tight as the skin on a drum. He rubbed it gently at first, and then with gradually increasing pressure as he felt the man's tight stomach begin to relax. In time he was massaging and gently kneading the man's stomach as a housewife might knead a lump of dough, for the two were of the same resilience. He gathered up the rolls of fat so that the expansive stomach appeared pleated, and then spread them back out. He palpitated the firm flesh above the man's groin, and buried his fingers in the pale white folds of fat as he worked up toward the man's chest. Lord Phanomyong inhaled the sharp orange- scented air and as time passed, the tightness and the cramps in his stomach disappeared.
"My Lord is very tense tonight," the boy observed as he oiled his hands a second time.
"Yes, I imagine I am," his master responded as the boy continued to massage his fat stomach. "I have not felt well all day, and I have some unpleasantness to deal with tomorrow."
"Unpleasantness?" the boy asked.
"Yes. Thieves and highwaymen have been plaguing the trade route to Prabang, and the merchants have been demanding protection."
As he thought about the reports that had been coming in, and the meeting he had scheduled with the merchants the following morning, a meeting he was not looking forward to because he could not provide the protection they wanted, he closed his eyes and sighed. It was not easy being a ruler. His mind wandered from what he would tell the merchants to the warmth and pleasure now passing through his stomach as the young boy massaged and rolled his rolls of fat, and then back to how he would handle the meeting. More and more his mind lingered on the pleasure the Chosen One was providing.
The boy had deftly broken the crystals of tension in his stomach by working across it with his thumb just as he had worked his feet the night before. Now gently running his fingertips over his master's stomach, he located the Sen running through it, and by stimulating first one and then another, he caused energy to penetrate deep through the fatty tissue to his Lord's intestines where it dissipated the building gases, allowing them to flow back up the energy lines to the external points on his Lord's skin known to the practitioners of several of the oriental arts of massage and of medicine. Lord Phanomyong could feel the tension rising up out of his body and evaporating into the air as does the water in a lily pond on a hot summer day and he sighed deeply.
Pouring a bit more of the citrus oil over the fingers of his left hand and rubbing the front pads of his fingers together, the boy reached out for his master once again, but this time, not for the man's stomach. Gently taking the warrior-lord's limp member in his right hand, and cupping his testicles in the other, he slowly and carefully fondled the man's privates. Holding the flaccid member by the base, he tugged on the growing tube of flesh as he gently rolled his master's eggs in their loose sack with the fingers of his other hand, coating both with the citrus oil.
His warm, lubricated fingers slowly pulled back the skin of his master's member, exposing the man's bulb-like glans. Forming a "U" shape with his thumb and fingers, he gently held the man's glans by the rim and slowly rotated his wrist. The warrior-lord squirmed with the pleasure that immediately rippled around the rim of his glans, and his cock began swelling more quickly. As the boy slowly rotated his wrist in the other direction and continued to roll the man's swelling eggs in their sack, he stared down at his hands with the seriousness and concentration of a student whose skills were being examined by a master.
As Lord Phanomyong felt his cock growing erect in the boy's warm, oiled hands, he also became aware of the need to pass water, which would mean he would have to be untied, but he did not want to interrupt the pleasure the boy's fingers were bringing and the need was mild so he decided to ignore it. He noticed that once again three of the eight vials had already emptied, and that also once again the slender boy's brief thong was tented out, his tiny reed having stretched out the thin fabric and pulled it away from his body. The boy was deriving pleasure out of pleasing him, and the warrior-lord took as much joy out of that as he did out of the touch of the boy's fingers.
The boy began to stroke his now erect member earnestly, and the pleasure pulsating through his rigid flesh replaced the urge to urinate, which with his full erection, would have been difficult anyway. The boy's fingers deftly stroked his solid shaft from base to glans, just barely touching it. Lord Phanomyong inhaled deeply, his lungs filling with the sharp citric fragrance of bergamot, his indigestion and his anxiety having been replaced by erotic pleasure. The boy worked miracles, but considering his fondness for boys, that was no surprise. The knob of his cock burned warmly. If it were not strictly forbidden to present a catamite in the line of choosing, he would have suspected the young boy had been trained from birth to be of service to men. However, with the threat of putting the head of the village and the family to death and burning the village to the ground, it was unlikely that anyone would dare try to break that rule.
Lord Phanomyong inhaled deeply as his loins trembled with his approaching climax and he constricted and relaxed the sphincter of his urethra. Somehow sensing the approach of his Lord's orgasm, the boy grasped his engorged cock just below the knob and squeezed tightly, an old trick the elders taught the initiates at the Coming of Age ceremony to subdue a man's desire and prolong his pleasure. The sands of time trickled from the top of the fourth vial to the bottom silently as the young boy sat there motionlessly, waiting for the man's lust to subside.
When it had, he resumed stroking the stiff, irritated organ, now pumping his fist up and down the thick shaft and being careful not to touch the sensitized rim of the man's glans nor push his foreskin up over it. The thick, solid tube throbbed hotly in his small hand, and the need to quell his desire arose much more quickly. The first clear droplet of pre-cum oozed out of the one-eyed snake, but like the night before, the boy chose to ignore the flow of that sweet nectar. As he continued to slowly stroke the shaft of the man's swollen member, more of the clear nectar oozed out of his slit, and the warrior-lord thrust his hips upward in his desire to cum. The boy immediately ceased the rhythmic pumping of his fist and once again squeezed the pulsating member below the glans as tight as he could until once again the desire to cum subsided.
Lord Phanomyong's breathing was laboured now as the boy resumed teasing his stiff cock, and knowing the boy's intent, he lay back and concentrated on the thrills of pleasure that were running through his plum and along the Sen of his cock and on the ache deep in his loins. It was a strange pairing, that sweet pleasure and pain, the one aching for the boy to continue and the other aching for the boy to stop. As he approached his climax for a third time, he wanted the building tension deep in his groin to continue building forever, and at the same time he wanted to ejaculate and end the pressure. Pleasure and pain combined for that brief time, both sweet, both excruciating. Then, at that last moment, the boy again choked his snake, and the two sensations slowly faded. Looking over at the chronometer, he saw that the fifth vial had emptied.
Three times he had approached that peak of orgasm in the past hour. Could he withstand another two? That had to be the Chosen One's intent. Again the boy oiled his fingers, and Lord Phanomyong sucked in the sharp citric scent of bergamot as the boy once more grasped his still hard cock and began to stroke it. The warrior-lord closed his eyes and concentrated again on the rhythm, on the gradually increasing pleasure and then the commencement of that sweet pain of anticipation until the pleasure and pain became one, the crescendo building to the point of climax only to be cut off at the last instant.
The Lord, knowing what to expect, vowed not to call out like a young bride on her wedding night as he had the evening before, but when he reached the fifth peak and his body trembled and ached for the expected release only to have the boy relieve the pressure still again without allowing him to climax, he groaned loudly with disappointment and surprise. This time he was given no time to recuperate, and the desires had not yet subsided when the boy began to vigorously pump his lust engorged cock once more. As he felt himself approaching an orgasm for the sixth time, he confessed to the boy that he had succeeded, that this night was better than the night before, which it was, his confession not being just because if he did not come this time his eggs would explode. Between gasps of ecstasy and pain he praised the boy for his skill, and in a voice that was not quite begging, told him to let him cum, but as the night before, the boy had become deaf and dumb, and instead of bringing his master off, he released his aching snake.
Lord Phanomyong cried out in frustration as his thick, member jerked in the air wildly and ached as if it had been stretched on the rack, which he now threatened to do to the boy if he did not immediately grasp his member and bring him off. He pulled on his silk bonds and thrust his hips into the air and crashed his backside back down on the bed. He closed his pig-like eyes and gritted his teeth as he focussed his mind on his withering snake and willed it to spit out his seed, but all he could do was vent his anger.
For the seventh time the boy grasped his master's organ, now aching as if being pierced by fine needles and now a brilliant red with its veins extended and the glans so engorged it looked like a ripe plum about to burst. The boy stroked relentlessly and his Lord groaned and called out, first with pleasure and then with pain, and the scarves about his wrists and ankles were pulled so tight they began to cut off the circulation to his hands and feet. Closer and closer he approached that point again, and Lord Phanomyong did not know if he should order the boy to bring him off or to pray to the mighty god Xiu.
He held his breath as they approached his climax for that seventh time, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the pressure in his loins doubled with each stroke and he expected to feel the ultimate pleasure of the release of his seed any moment. His mind focussed on his groin and as he felt his seed about to shoot up his shaft he thrust his hips in the air just as the boy pressed his first finger against the pressure point under his pomegranates where the thick cord runs between his legs. With a mighty cry of pure ecstasy and with anguished dismay, the warrior-Lord froze with his hips thrust upward as high as he could raise them and his body trembled finally with his orgasm. His swollen cock throbbed like a pulsating heart ripped from an opponent's chest and he constricted the sphincter muscles of his anus and his penis as he tried desperately to release his seed.
His breathing was laboured as if he had just fought and conquered a mighty enemy and he strained against his bonds. As he collapsed back on the bed he grunted and panted and his massive stomach rose and fell as he rapidly opened and closed his penile sphincter in a desperate attempt to ejaculate, but the pressure of the tip of the boy's finger at the base of his pomegranates stemmed the flow of his juice. His numb cock had never felt more swollen than it did at that moment. He trembled with the pleasure of his dynamic orgasm which had flowed along his Sen from his abused cock throughout his body. Never had he felt such pleasure, and never had he felt so drained.
Laying down beside his master, the boy snuggled close to him and stretching one arm across his massive body, he rested his head on the man's chest. Reaching down and slipping his fingers under his thong, he slowly and gently fondled his swollen reed. Once again six of the eight vials of sand had drained, and once again the warrior-lord lay there on his back recovering while the sand in the seventh vial flowed through the narrow neck to fill the bottom section. Once again the rice wine and coconut milk and salted nuts and sweet chocolate lay untouched on the mahogany table. The boy's head slowly rose and fell as the man's breathing gradually returned to normal. At long last the boy raised himself on one elbow and looked at his master with those dark brown, innocent eyes.
"Have I pleased my master?" he asked softly.
"Yes," sighed the bound man.
"More than the last time?"
"Yes," he said with a smile.
Having brought with him a sharped bamboo shoot, the boy proceeded to loosen the knots of the silk scarves, and untie his master before retiring to his own bed.
Next: Part Five: Ginger