The Exile

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 Two-

My father was kneeling in prayer when I entered the outer room of the temple, so I could only stand and wait. He looked regal and wise in the robes of his office, every inch a High Priest my people could be proud of. As usual, the air in the temple seemed charged with energy, and my nostrils were filled with the sweet holy incense that burned in the corner. Beyond my father lay the entrance to the inner room, the Holy of Holies, where lay the ancient sacred relics of our people. Once I succeeded my father, I reminded myself, I would enter there and look upon them. I offered a silent prayer that I would live worthy of such a blessing. My father stirred, his prayer was ending. I brushed my long black hair off of my face and straightened my priestly robes.

In some remote corner of my mind, I knew that this was a dream, and that in reality I lay in deep sleep in an ancient tomb with Damon wrapped inside my arms. And yet so powerfully now did I relive these events that I could not help but believe that they were the truth, and the rest (my exile, my shaven head, my encounter with a giant, my new and mysterious slave) were but the madness of a dream.

"Markis," my father said, smiling. I bowed. "You are prepared for tomorrow?"

I nodded. "As well as I can be, father."

At this he chuckled, "A wise answer. No man is ever fully prepared for the attentions of a woman, my son. I wish you joy of her."

"I'm sure she will ennoble me," I said. I had always hoped that once joined with a wife the other secret desires of my heart would vanish.

"You are more correct than you know," he said, inviting me to sit with him. We did so, resting on soft pillows with our legs folded. "It remains now for me to tell you what you must surely have suspected, but has not been said openly."

I nodded, eager to hear.

"You are a Priest of our people, Markis," he said, "and my son, therefore heir to Alander and his office, which I hold now. In you the magic blood flows strongly. You have felt some stirrings of it, and yet its full power is yet to be revealed to you. When you become a man, you will awaken to yourself and your own nature, and you are not fully a man until you have known a woman. Do you understand?"

"I think so, father."

"When you go to lay with her in the ceremony, the magic will awaken within you. Coupling with her, you will know true union of mind and body. When the act is finished, you will be reborn. The truth of many things will be revealed to you, and you will be able to call upon the full authorities of your office and your birthright. In this way, the Creator shows his wisdom in all things. For the man, even a Priest, is nothing without the woman. Each needs the other to fulfill the full measure of creation." I nodded again, and he continued: "Your mother, rest her soul, was a strong woman, an Oracle of our people. I was not fully prepared for the power that was unleashed within me after I knew her. I wish you to be more ready than I was."

"I shall do my best, father."

"Markis, there is something else. Something I have never told you before. At your birth, your mother lay very ill. She was marked for death by heaven; none of our magics could save her. Before she died, she held you in her arms and prophesied."

I stared at him, stunned.

"She said you could be the greatest of us all, Markis. That you could lead us to our former glory. Some present saw in you the fulfillment of all our ancient expectations. The Elders convened, and you were anointed as a babe to be the {Sha'Eluid} - the son of power long awaited by our people."

I must have tried to stammer some reply. I am certain my face drained of color. He raised his hand, silencing my protestations.

"Do not let this trouble you, my son," he said, smiling, "you are not the first to be anointed in such a way, nor shall you be the last, I wager. The ceremony only suggests your great potential, and the level of hope we have all placed in you. You have not disappointed us. In your studies of both religion and martial discipline, in your fulfillment of the duties of your office, in the example of your life, you have shown yourself to be the best among us. I am honored to call you my son."

He bowed to me, and I had no words. After this he kissed my forehead and embraced me, signs of affection I had not seen since I was a child, and dismissed me. My mind racing, I left the temple and set my feet towards my impending marriage ceremony, my failure, and my disgrace.

My eyes fluttered open, and for a long moment I sought to discover where I was. Where I had expected to find the cold hardness of stone beneath me, there was the soft and pleasant warmth of fur. Nearby I could hear the crackling of a fire, and recognized at once the smell of sweetly roasting meat. I longed to eat, and my mouth was dry and parched. I sat up slowly, feeling somewhat light-headed, and looked about me.

I was still in the circular room of the tomb into which I had fallen, but it had been quite transformed. All trace of dust, crumbling stone, cobwebs and filth had been swept away, and it was lit cheerfully with several new torches attached firmly to the walls. I sat, as I had already discovered, on the newly skinned and cleaned skin of some animal, another part of which appeared to be cooking slowly nearby over a healthy fire. The smoke from the blaze rose up gently through the hole in the ceiling that had been my entrance to the place so long ago (or so it seemed to me then). Tending to the fire was Damon, looking quite as entrancing as he had when I first saw him, only now he wore clean, well-fitting clothes that to my eyes looked quite foreign in design.

"Your timing is perfect, Master," he said, "It is nearly time to eat, and I was about to wake you."

"You've been busy," I managed to say, remembering with some awkwardness the extent of our pleasures together the night previous.

"I could have done nothing without the power you have granted," he said, winking at me.

I was suddenly conscious of my nakedness, and cast about with anxious eyes for my clothing. Though long hours of training and discipline had honed my body into a pleasant shape, it felt strange to remain undressed when Damon was clothed. Besides, the sight of my smooth, unhaired legs and groin was a sharp and painful reminder of my shame. Damon noticed my search and produced my clothing, neatly folded in a pile and smelling cleaner and fresher than they had in some days. I have found that while there is of course relief and pleasure in removing clothing, the common contract of men, and exposing our nakedness to ourselves and at times to others, there is on the other hand great satisfaction in covering ourselves once again, just as a man finds comfort in returning to the privacy of his home after a day among his fellows. In nakedness, there is truth, for one may look directly upon the Creation itself -- but no man can abide the truth at all times. Thus whether peasant or royalty, meanly dressed or finely robedwe all cover our bodies not only to be protected from the elements but to hide our full glory from each other and from ourselves, else we could not endure.

Once clothed, I fed eagerly for some time until I was satisfied. Either I was particularly hungry or Damon's power had infected the meat (or both, as now seems likely), for it seemed the most delicious meal I had enjoyed in many years, and every bite was pure joy to me. Damon waited on me eagerly, which I found unnerving though I thanked him sincerely several times.

"We had visitors last night, Master," he said, once I had finished, "roaming the tombs above. A man and something else. A giant, I should think."

I nodded. "Errold and Golmeir," I named them, having nearly forgotten them until that very moment, "they brought me to this place."

"Then I owe them great thanks."

I shook my head. "Against my will, I promise you. They intended to plunder this tomb."

"As they no doubt have done by now," Damon smirked, "but they won't get far. The treasures in this tomb are cursed. Does that surprise you? Your ancestors were not so naïve. Those buried here were noble, high-born men and royal blood, and the treasures above were their most precious possessions. As was I, as you no doubt have guessed, but I am yours by right now. Had you touched the more tangible riches above, you would have gone quite mad."

"I am glad I found no temptation in them, then," I said.

"Whatever you treasure is of more value than gold, I'm sure, Master."

"I do not think they acted alone," I thought out loud, "They were ignorant, foolish men but had been provided with a map and its translation, which I have here." I took them out to examine them further. Memories from the previous evening were flooding back to me, and now that I was rested and collected in thought, I was able to make more sense of them. "They were also looking for something particular: a sword in a silver casing."

Damon nodded. "My last Master had such a sword. It is of no small value."

"They have probably taken it already," I said, feeling a surge of disappointment. I was curious about this blade, and did not like to think of such a relic in the hands of Errold or whoever he and Bert had been sent to fetch it for. "Perhaps we can overtake them and retrieve it, though the giant presents a problem."

My new servant shook his head emphatically. "They did not, Master. It lies behind a door that would be quite impenetrable to them. Besides, I can sense it nearby still."

"What does that mean, you can sense it?"

"It is of great significance," he said, his eyes distant, "He cherished it so."

I was full of questions, but I said, "Take me to it."

Damon had already prepared a rope which, tied to a column in the room above, made my exit from the little round room simple. My new servant scrambled up the rope behind me, which I did not think odd at the time but which puzzles me now. He could easily have transformed his shape and exited without effort, as a bird or something similar. Perhaps he wished to conserve his power for a more urgent need (such as would very shortly come upon us). Or perhaps he remained the alluring young man because that was what I wanted - a real, tangible companion. I loved the young man he appeared to be, or believed that I did, and so he, in his eagerness to please me, did not wish to change. This, I think, is the most likely explanation, but I shall never know for certain.

He led me expertly through the tombs, having no need to use the map I had taken from Bert. I was glad of his certainty, for once or twice I was convinced we had entered a room or passageway that we had been through earlier and feared we had gone in circles, only to have him point out some subtle difference that indicated that we really had entered a new place. Before long we reached an intricately carved wall which I felt certain was our destination.

"Can you open the way?" I asked.

"No, Master," he said, "But you may, if you wish. Place your right hand against the stone, fingers apart and then-"

He had no need to explain further. It was directly from our temple ceremonies, which by this time came as no surprise. I placed my palm on the wall as he had described and raised my left hand high to heaven. I bowed, facing the ground, and then spoke aloud softly in the Sacred Tongue.

"{Seek we to enter, though unworthy.}"

The floor vibrated as the stone wall parted; where there had been smooth, uninterrupted stone there was now a growing gap that stopped when it was just wider than my shoulders. Damon regarded me with a look of some confusion.

"That was beautiful, Master, though mostly unnecessary. Only the palm and the words would have sufficed."

I had no response, for I was distracted by the sight before me. The tomb lay open, and inside I could see grand sarcophagi, gleaming urns and chests, mounds of plates, weapons, and jewelry - all shining with the soft glow of gold. I was aware of all of this, but I only had eyes for the sword. It sat on a small stand near the center of the room, standing out from the other riches by its clean, silver gleam. It was a modest sized blade, perhaps only two hands length longer than my arm, with a gentle curve in the middle so slight as almost not to be noticed. Whereas most of the tomb lay under thick layers of dust and cobwebs, the sheathe of the sword was so spotless and polished that I could see the reflection of the room in it. It was like staring into a pool of water so peaceful and still that its reflection outmatched the reality in beauty and majesty.

I had crossed the space to the blade without knowing it. Now, I knelt before it, staring at my reflection. Though skewed by the curved angle of the metal, I could make out my bare head and smooth face. It was the first time I had seen my own image since being shaved, and I did not recognize myself.

"You desire it, Master, do you not?" Damon asked. He had not moved to enter the room, as I had, but watched me from the room beyond. I nodded, for desire it I did. I knew it as surely as I had known my desire when Damon had revealed his naked flesh to me the night before. Moreover, I felt like it was mine already, like it could belong to no other. My hands ached to hold it.

"Take it then," he said, "it is yours by right."

I turned to look at him. "But the curse--"

"--affects only that which still belongs to my former Master," he gestured to the largest and most decorated of the sarcophagi, "and this blade is meant to be passed on, much like myself."

"I cannot possibly," I said, though I did not mean it. I was determined to possess it.

"You stand in the tomb of Alander, once Crown Prince of Anatheria and my Liege and Master. You know of him?"

"There is an Alander in the legends of my people." I said, shaking my head. It was all getting so complicated and confusing. "He was our first High Priest in time long past. It cannot be the same man."

"It can. The sword before you is the Prince's Blade - the weapon rightfully held by the heir to the throne. Only a direct male descendent of the Crown Prince himself may claim it lawfully." He gave me a serious, searching look, and I realized he must have already known.

"Before my exile, I was to inherit the High Priesthood upon my father's death. The office has been passed from eldest son to eldest son since Alander's time. And so..."

"...you are a legitimate heir, and the sword belongs to you."

"You knew all this." I said.

"From the moment I sensed you, I knew you were a son of Anatheria," he explained, "but not until I tasted your blood, freeing me from my prison, did I know you were of my old Master's line and therefore royal."

"I am nothing of the sort," I said, "There is no kingdom or people left to rule."

"It is not power alone that makes a king, Master," he said, "But either way, the sword belongs to you more than anybody else."

I wanted it to be so, and I felt instinctively that it was, and yet I hesitated. Damon's story had the ring of truth, but part of me wondered how far I might trust him. Alander, the great founder so celebrated by my people, was said by legend to be buried under the great tree in our grand square. Either the legend was false, or this was not the same man. I feared to involve myself in these things. But then I recalled Errold and Golmeir, who might still be waiting above. Even if I managed to get by them, they were surely not the only dangers I would face in the unknown lands beyond my home. It would be only prudent to be armed. By such arguments I convinced myself to give in to what in my heart I had already in fact decided to do, a technique known to all men; some are absolute masters.

I bowed to Alander's coffin, as if to apologize for plundering his tomb, knowing that the gesture was empty and meaningless. Either the sword was mine and I committed no sin, or it was plain robbery, pure and simple. I hoped for the former, but so great was my desire for the sword that either way I would not now be deterred. I solemnly lifted it from its stand. With an unsteady hand I drew the blade from its sheathe -- it was pure, shining, reflective silver, just like its casing. It was lighter than I had expected, but it was firm and true and, even after so many years, its edge was sharp enough to cut through skin and bone. The handle and guard were of such fine, simple, and yet elegant craftsmanship that I wanted for a moment to never look at anything else. Only the day before, the sword I had wielded (mostly ceremonially) since I was a boy had been taken from me; now, I felt the shock of its loss swallowed up in the pride of my new blade, which felt as familiar and comfortable in my hand as the other ever had.

"Alander's former glory shall be yours, Master," Damon said, his eyes gleaming with adoration so strongly that I grew uncomfortable and looked away.

"I am just an exile," I said, sheathing the sword again, "and one who does not want to be caught unarmed again."

Simply possessing the ancient blade gave me confidence to face the dangers of the world above again, and so I asked Damon to lead us out of the tombs directly. He did so, and as we emerged into the light of day, the strange stone shook and closed off the passageway again. There was no sight of Bert's companions, and I had turned to Damon to ask him what we should do next when I heard a loud scream, like that of a crazed animal. I exchanged looks with my servant, who pointed in the direction he believed the sound had originated. I drew my silver sword and proceeded cautiously toward it.

We had gone no more than the length of three grand sqaures when we found him in a small clearing. There were several bags on the ground, each stuffed so full with various gold trinkets from the ancient tomb that they seemed ready to burst. Amongst these sat a man, his head in his hands, moaning in apparent agony. I knew at once that it was Errold. Of his giant, there was no sign.

"It burns, Bert," muttered my former captor as I came near. His hands reached for me, but he stared into emptiness. "It burns!"

"I am Markis," I said, holding my sword in front of me, "Bert is dead."

"The girl, Bert! The pretty little thing with hair so gold, so gold. It burns so!"

"Where is your giant?" I asked, but he did not seem to hear.

Damon put a hand on my shoulder. "It is the curse, Master. He is beyond help now."

"Pretty little thing, with eyes so blue, so blue. She's staring at me, why does she stare, Bert? I did what I had to, didn't I? STOP STARING!"

He flailed about in agony, wailing, writhing in unseen torment. He pulled his dagger from his belt. I would have interceded, then, if I had had any sense of his intention, but I was so dumbfounded by his madness that I did not understand until it was almost too late. With a quick motion, he thrust his blade at his chest. I rushed to him, but the point had not driven deep. He was bleeding, but not fatally hurt. He fell to the ground and then his face twisted with agony again. I wanted to look away, but found I could not.

"We should leave, Master," Damon said, "It's not wise to linger about the cursed."

"We can't just leave him here," I protested.

"Don't. Stay," he said suddenly, and I found he was looking straight at me for the first time. "I have gold. Please take it, only stay with me a while longer." He gestured at the swelling bags.

I shook my head. "It is not mine to take. It belongs to the tomb you robbed."

"Here, then, here -" he spoke quickly, desperately, and his shaking hands searched for something at his neck. He removed a long chain, at the end of which hung an amulet of some red gem, which glinted in the light. "Take it! It's not from the tomb, I've had it some months now. Don't leave me alone with her!"

He was so insistent that I, strangely feeling pity for the man who had been my captor and would-be tormentor, took it and put it on to humor him. He seemed to relax when I made no move to leave, but took again to staring into space and muttering, jerking about occasionally in pain. I considered a moment, then made up my mind.

"Will the curse affect us if we touch these bags now?" I asked Damon.

"It will plague only those who take these things for themselves," he replied.

"And if we replace them in the tomb? Will the curse be lifted from him?"

Damon's face was a blank. "I do not think so, Master. It`s not our business."

"Nevertheless, it must be done. Help me," I commanded.

My new servant, his face still tense with displeasure, replaced the last of the stolen treasures and our work was at last complete. We had spent a good portion of the day dragging each of the bags back to the tomb (for they were heavy and we had no giant to lift them for us) and then replacing their contents throughout the rooms wherever we thought appropriate. Damon had muttered some complaints, at first, but when I had shown no sign of changing my mind he had worked at the task glumly and without comment. I did not have to guess at his opinion on the matter, however.

In one of the dark rooms we found Bert's body where I had abandoned it after our struggle the night before. He had been an unpleasant man who meant me harm, but I did not delight in his death. I ordered Damon to carry the body outside and help me bury it, which he did with surprising speed. Errold's madness had grown worse at the sight of his dead companion, and eventually Damon, showing more signs of impatience, had given him a blow to the head strong enough to render him unconscious. We left him outside the entrance of the tomb propped against a tree to rest while we finished replacing the stolen treasures.

"That's the last of it," Damon said pointedly.

"You have a pretty face," I said, chuckling, "It's a shame to mar it with a scowl."

He looked about to say something in retort when suddenly he stopped and froze, straining in concentration.

"What is it?" I asked, rather alarmed.

"There are men above us, Master," he said, "right outside the entrance."

"And Errold?"

"He is with them," my servant said.

I considered. The sword, buckled already to my side, gave me courage. "We will not hide. I won't allow this place to be defiled again."

"But, Master--" he protested, but I cut him short.

"Hide yourself. I will try to avoid a fight, but be prepared to aid me if you can."

I went ahead, then, and when I turned to see if Damon had followed he was already gone. I straightened myself to my full height and exited the tomb as confidently as I could.

There were four of them, soldiers of some kind for all wore intricately graven metal armor made of several overlapping plates and were well armed. One held Errold, who was worked up into unintelligible panic, by the arm, while another one, clearly the authority, sat astride a horse and regarded me with disgust.

"You must be Bert," said the mounted soldier, "Can you speak? Or have you gone mad like your partner here?"

"He's mad, certainly," said one of the other men, "look what he's done with his hair."

"I am not mad," I said, placing my hand on the hilt of my new blade cautiously.

"I see you recovered the sword, as promised," the leader said, his tone light but his body tense and ready, "Our master thanks you for your service. I will take it to him."

"The sword is mine," I said. "I suggest you leave this place. You have no business here."

The men began to draw their weapons, their looks venomous, but their leader raised his hand to stop them.

"There is no need for this to end in blood," he said, "In Broxbourne, we expect a man to be good to his word. You made a deal - all the riches of the tomb are yours, in exchange for this sword. Claim some other treasure, and give His Excellency his due!"

"The other treasures of this tomb are cursed, as you well know," I said, "And I made no deal."

"Come now, Bert, why this charade? I know you are lying." The men began to close in, their weapons raised.

The silver sword slid out of its sheathe smoothly, and the blade flashed in the air. "I have not lied to you, not once," I said, holding it ready, "I am not Bert, and I never said I was."

The leader's eyes widen at this, and he gave the signal to attack.

I am not a master swordsman, nor have I ever claimed to be. My skill with the blade was fair, and I was not untrained, but the focus of my training had been elsewhere. Yet now the silver sword, moving with great speed and power, seemed almost to guide itself and I felt as though I had known nothing else but combat. The nearest of the armored men misjudged me and my weapon -- the sword swiped accurately at his throat and he fell bleeding. The others learned quickly from this defeat and avoided a direct assault, instead circling me and seeking to attack from two sides. To prevent this, I launched a reckless offensive at one, swiping at his face and jabbing at the joints in his armor. He was disciplined and skilled, and he deflected every blow though he retreated back as quickly as he could. I kept with him, knowing that I had to defeat him soon or the other would be upon me from behind. I heard the jingling of his armor at my back and knew that my fears were well-founded. I could not turn to face him for the other, seeing his comrade approach, began a counter-assault that took all of my concentration to parry. For a second my confidence left me and I feared the worst, but then there was a rush of color in the corner of my eye and the man behind me screamed in pain and fear. I did not look, but my adversary did, his discipline abandoning him in that one fatal instant, and I took my advantage. The silver sword pierced him through the middle.

Only then did I turn to see what had happened. The third soldier was warding off his attacker, a large animal moving very quickly, with wild strokes of his blade. Looking at the beast, I thought of a bear; and yet it was not as large as those I had seen, and more agile. It was a simple thing to dispatch the man, who in his panic over the creature did not even notice my approach. In an instant the beast was gone, vanishing in a thick clump of bushes. I sought out the leader, then, but he was galloping out of sight already as fast as his horse could take him. He was not alone, for I could make out the wildly kicking feet of Errold. The soldier must have pulled him across the front of his saddle while I fought. There would be no catching either of them now.

There was a stirring in the bushes again, and Damon appeared, walking towards me with unsteady steps as though he might at any moment collapse. I ran to assist him, but he would not allow it.

"I'm only a little weak, Master," he said, "Let me rest a moment."

"By all means," I said, panting myself, "But we shouldn't stay here long. He may return with more."

Damon nodded in agreement, and after a few moments we set off into the woods randomly. We walked for some hours until we felt we were far enough away from the tomb that it would be difficult to find us in a search. It was late afternoon by this time, and I decided to find a place to set up camp for the night and look for food. I looked in vain for a cave like the one Errold and Bert had occupied, but found instead a small rocky outcropping that would provide a least a little shelter from the wind. I wanted to light a fire desperately, for the night looked to be very cold, but thought better of it. It could give away our presence and open us to another attack. I asked Damon if he could find us food again.

"I could very easily do so," said Damon, "But I have expended a lot of power today, Master."

"I see," I said, shifting uncomfortably. "So you require more..."

"Yes," he smiled, "Does that displease you?"

"No, not at all, I just..." I struggled for words, "How often will you need to... you know?"

He laughed, a musical sound. "It depends mainly on how much I do for you, Master, and how quickly I expend my energy. Your gift last night was bounteous but it was the first of such in a long time, and I have not built up any store of strength."

"It's cold, and getting colder. That may prove a distraction." In truth I was stalling, for though I longed for him still I had not yet grown accustomed to having my heart's desire so casually. I, who had faced the armored men before with little fear, found myself now at the prospect of joining with Damon sweating and shaking with nerves.

"Do not fear the cold. I have enough power left for that." He waved his hands, and within seconds the air around me grew warm and pleasant, and I felt impervious to the chilly autumn weather.

It was time, then, and I took a deep breath to prepare for it. Damon was gentle, though, as he nearly always was -- at the time I had assumed that this was a quality of his true nature, but, more likely, in my fragile and inexperienced state that was what I needed. If I had been the sort of man who desired to be beaten by my partner (or vice versa) during copulation, I'm sure he would have obliged to that too. He removed my clothes as before, kissing my lips and neck as I slowly began to relax and surrender myself to him. Soon I was undressed, save for the amulet I had taken from Errold. I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them again, mere seconds later, he was naked himself, looking even more beautiful than I remembered.

We proceeded as before with him kneeling and taking me into his mouth. This time I studied his movements closely, feeling immense pleasure but not overwhelmed quite like I had been before. His technique fascinated me, and I watched the motion of his lips and tongue so that if ever I performed such an act, I might have some knowledge of how to do it with something like the skill my servant possessed. I desired to try it greatly, but something told me Damon would think it inappropriate for me to service him in such a way. No doubt he would acquiesce if I insisted; still, I was content to let him continue to service and instruct me.

He gently guided me to the ground until I was laying on my back. The earth felt warm and inviting beneath me, as though it was making love to me as well. I did not even mind the dirt and fallen leaves against my skin. He continue to pleasure me in this way for some time, and then withdrew.

"You have never been with a man before me?" he asked, his fingers lightly tracing the bulging skin of my shaft.

"Never," I said, "Nor woman neither."

"Are you prepared, then, to be instructed further in the mystery of this love between men?"

"Mystery? There are others who work in this...craft?"

He shrugged. "In the ancient times I knew, there were many. I do not think it should be so different now."

In my ignorance and shame I had always supposed that I alone had such desires, and the chance that perhaps I was not so alone in the world filled me for the first time since my exile with thoughts of hope.

"I am ready," I said, running my hand through his hair and laughing, "Instruct me."

He kissed me briefly, and then swung his leg over mine so that he sat astride my lap. I had little time to wonder what he intended before he lowered himself upon me and I felt myself sliding gently into his warm and welcoming opening. It happened in an instant; before I realized precisely what had happened I was buried in him to the hilt, recalling morbidly to my mind how my sword had pierced the soldier some hours previous. I have enjoyed many such couplings since and have learned that such entry is rarely accomplished so quickly and easily when one's partner is fully human, but with Damon the impossible often seemed all too possible. I had no time to ponder on the ease of our joining at the time.

As I have said, I was a stranger to the art of physical love, and a stranger still to this particular type of union which Damon had called a mystery. Though he said nothing, his every movement was a lesson, a detailed instruction received by an eager pupil. He moved intently, raising himself until we were almost uncoupled completely and then swiftly lowering himself again until he was fully impaled once more. With surprising strength, the muscles of his backside gripped me tightly near to the point of discomfort, but the warm and smooth sensations they provided as he continued his movement were anything but unpleasant. My eyes were locked to his, and I saw clearly the looks of agonizing ecstasy that were (quite literally, I believe) the reflections of those on my own face. In those long minutes of frantic energy, as sweat began to bead on our skin and our lungs to gasp for breath, I thought I had learned something of the true union that my father had so much talked of when he spoke of my imminent coupling with my bride. I began to wonder despite myself if in this act I would unleash the inner potential he had spoken of in the temple some few days before. I did feel a great swelling within me, and for a brief second I felt that the earth would have parted had I commanded it, but perhaps this was only an effect of my arriving climax. I felt a swirling in my lower organs -- those precious jewels, those tiny, mighty factories which continually churn out our life-giving stream -- and they pulled up tightly against my body. In the intensity of the growing sensation, I lifted my buttocks into the air, lifting Damon's feet off the ground. Suspended though he was in mid-air, he somehow continued to bob up and down without pause or hesitation. The bulging dam burst, and felt myself unleashed deep inside of my servant's body. We cried out in unison, and I, with desperate eagerness, looked at his organ for the physical manifestation of his own pleasure. I longed to feel it on my skin, to watch it exit him with the same degree of force with which I propelled my own seed into his bowels. It did not occur; he remained utterly unchanged.

In seeing this, or rather in not seeing what I had expected and indeed longed for, I fully comprehended for the first time what should have been obvious from the beginning. No doubt you who read this tale, whoever you are, will think me quite thick headed to have taken so long to see it clearly. I can only claim for my defense the confusion resulting from the radical changes in my life, the depth of my despair and longing, and the burning desire for male companionship that had haunted me all my adult life. What I finally understood at that moment when Damon produced no seed, though he moaned with pleasure above me, was that the young man who I was currently penetrating was not truly a young man at all, but the shadow or reflection of one. In all appearances he seemed to be the answer to all my longings and desires, much like I had once given the Elders hope for the {Sha'Eluid} they had long awaited -- and yet in both cases those who looked deceived themselves, for they saw only that which they desperately wished to see. My servant, whoever or whatever he was, could not and would never be a true companion of flesh and blood, with whom true union of mind and body could be possible, and at this thought my heart sank and I felt loneliness return with a heavy blow.

All this I thought and felt even while at the height of pleasure, while I continue to pour myself out inside of Damon. At every surge of release, I noted again the immediate change in him as he grew stronger and stronger. He continued to grip me tightly, so that each time I felt I had finished his insistent squeezing seemed to draw out a few drops more. At last I was drained of all that I could muster, and I collapsed back into the earth wearily. He leaned down and kissed me gently, and I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy it despite my belated realization of his inhumanity. I had tensed my whole body while in the throws of lovemaking, and now as my head swirled with the after-effects of my pleasure, I felt each muscle unwinding again.

"You are learning well, Master," he said, patting my bald head affectionately.

And in an instant he was off, out of sight into the woods, to look for our supper. The sun was setting, and the sky above me growing darker. The stars were beginning to appear, and for a time I could not bring myself to move. My mind reeled with complicated thoughts about my servant and the men I had killed that day, and I pondered the last few days as though I could not quite believe that they had happened.

Then, suddenly, I heard a movement close by, which startled me and made me sit up. In the fading twilight I could see clearly a large humanoid shape some few steps off, stepping out from behind a tree. In the instant of terror my drowsy, satiated body become alert and panicked, for I recognized the giant Golmeir who was Errold's slave much like Damon was mine. I was prepared for him to make some move to attack me, but he remained still and looked at me curiously. His body was large, twisted, disproportionate, and ugly. His face was that of a monster, much like those I had feared as a small boy. His skin was hard and knotty to the point that I had almost not recognized it as flesh at all, and he wore only a small ragged cloth about his loins. The small scrap was not nearly enough to cover himself, for I could make out clearly a disturbingly large phallus and a low-hanging sack of skin bigger than my fist which occupied the space between his legs. At the sight of his genitals my skin crawled and I would have run if I felt I could have brought myself to move.

It was not its size that unsettled me, though it was as long and thick as my forearm, but its mere existence. In every way except its large proportion it was near identical in form and, presumably, function to my own organ; I suspected strongly that his could produce the milky substance that Damon's could not. What chilled my blood, then, was the thought that if the giant bore a part that so mirrored my own, I then must in some way have a part that resembled him in all his monstrosity -- and that while Damon, who was so beautiful and perfect, was a being wholly unlike me, Golmeir, for all his ugliness, was indeed more similar to me than I ever wanted to believe.

He took a step towards me, and I raised my hands defensively.

"Stay back," I spurted, not knowing what else to say.

At this he stopped, bowed to me quite gracefully, and spoke: "As you wish." His voice was so low in pitch and vibrated so strongly in his large chest that I did not at first understand what he had said. Without another word he turned and walked away, leaving me blinking in disbelief and watching his enormous back as he faded away into the trees.

** 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. **