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.
With a suddenness that (luckily) took my breath away, Harcos once again swallowed my prick and redouble his efforts, inside and out. I screamed around the bit as I came again, ages passing as I unloaded every single seed in my body. I finally fell, limp and lifeless on the bed. I barely felt my salvation, my Aldus, my Harcos, my beloved barbarian join me, curling my body into his. The covers cloaked us just as the darkness claimed me. I realised I was still crying as Harcos kissed my hair and petted my side and belly. I did not know before that moment that there was such a thing as tears of utter contentment.
The Heathens 23: The Flax of Nemesis
By Bear Pup
The days turned routine. I trained myself to wake even earlier so that I had time to savour the morning effusions of my beloved Harcos, my true Aldus. Each day, I became more proficient at dressing and arming him for the morning formations. I also got stronger quickly as the evil, nasty, fucking pack did its cruel work.
The baking became routine as well, the only real hiccough was when I tripped over a leg as I ran back with my burden of flour. In an instant, a proctor-guard was on me like a wasp, beating me freely with a leather flail. I tried to fend off the blows, finally screamed and crying in pain and terror, which seemed to be his signal to stop. He then gave me a minutes-long and humiliating tongue-lashing as the other workers scurried around me. I was hurt, ashamed and mortified, as well as spilling the flours and disrupting my team.
I got no real sympathy from any but Volot, but no recriminations, either. The team simply shrugged it off. When we got back to the quarters, Furge summed it up perfectly, "Don't fall next time." The stripes across my arms and legs were still livid (as was I) when Harcos and the rest came back. I spun my tale of woe and Harcos frowned slightly.
"Did you trip?"
"Yes, but--"
"Did you spill the flour?"
"Yes, but--"
"Did he stop hitting you when it was clear you got the message?"
"YES, but--"
"Were you more careful the rest of the day?"
"YES, BUT--"
"Then I'd say it was a good day all round. Help me get into the shin-guards. We march in a show of force this afternoon." I ripped part of fingernail off doing one of those fucking buckles, but I made damned sure never to complain again.
Perhaps one in five afternoons, the As practiced together. On other days, the men had specific jobs or, more often, they would 'march in a show of force', the primary purpose of which was the instil fear and respect into the surround populace (and let the guys get a breath of fresh air). Usually a Century would march together in battle lines in a direction determined by the leadership, usually a direction in which sentries had seen stealthy or organised movement. Several times, the entire Legion formed up and the ground literally shook with their footfalls and shield-strikes. One a few rare occasions, the men would be gone overnight which was terrifying and depressing for all the servants, more-so for the eight of us.
If the As practiced alone, four of us would always work with them while the other four did chores. On days the men were occupied, we cleaned, darned and repaired whatever our masters needed most. Furge spent two such afternoon working to carve a patch to perfectly fit the hole that Handart's pilum had put in Sziklak's shield. When he had it precisely right and the edges of the hole filed down as well, he vanished for a couple hours. Two days later, he vanished for the same span again.
Both times he came back looking oddly pleased with himself; the second time he also had his master's shield. The finish was pristine and unblemished, as if the shield was newly-made. All of the new arrivals, even Pyrkagia, were awed. When I asked how this had been accomplished, he smiled widely. "It pays to know who does great finish work, and even more if you know which ones are not getting their, um, needs satisfied by their own masters."
When Sziklak returned that evening, he marvelled at the work and vanished with Furge to their niche. Grubo groused, "The lucky bastard carves a gods-be-damned plug, then gets plugged twice, and is now getting plugged again and extremely fucking well to boot. Why couldn't Handart have put a hole in the Skink's shield, I ask you? That could be me trying not to moan." He grumped the rest of the day, in fact.
Things changed several weeks later when the Fifth, Stelio and Pykagia's old Century, returned unhappily after an overnight. Their show of force had been peppered with arrows from a hillside redoubt and four Legionnaires were injured. While it wasn't our Century, it boded ill. Any sign of resistance was met with force; any force met with overwhelming force. The problem here was that steep terrain made the majority of Roman tactics moot against an entrenched foe. The following morn, they tried to get the rebels to exhaust their supply of arrows, but to no avail; the enemy could sense the bluff and the Century returned.
Two days later, the men returned from formation with news. They, and we, would rest that afternoon and depart at moonfall. Servants and masters alike would bear the lightest-possible burdens. The As of Nemesis had been tasked with taking out the entrenched position so the Second and Fifth Centuries could march out in two days' time and pacify the area completely. Harcos cooed me unwillingly to sleep as I was awash with nerves. We woke at dusk and packed hurriedly carrying as we were told, the men armed as they had been in practice as an As.
Volot and I were shocked and delighted when we set out. The packs weighed nothing compared to the ones we'd been carrying for weeks, and the pace was half what we kept up in the camp. It took us about five hours to reach the area and find a sheltered place to doze and await the day. Cat and the Skink vanished like mist and Pam stood guard, darts at the ready.
When the sun lightened the area, but was still behind the ridge, we set forth in absolutely silence. Cat and the Skink had not returned. We worked our way cautiously to the mouth of the gorge. All the men froze as a birdcall echoed fleetly. Harcos signed to me that I was to freeze, stay silent and move no closer. Pyrkagia and Furge were the only servants to go with men as they crept forward. The silence was our enemy, then. A tense hour ensued where every tiny sound made us jump, even the experienced boys. We almost cried out when everyone quietly returned.
A whispered conversation started, Cat and the Skink explaining the ground and area, including the movement of sentries and men, often using terms I'd never heard before. They reported the sentries were young, bored and distracted easily. The men fell to discussing the entrenchment itself. It would have to be taken from above. Stelio and Pyrkagia had an incredibly-long silent conversation after which Stelio told the men that there would be no fire magic that would help.
At a signal, all of us quietly returned to the place we'd camped. A wide, light cloth of flax, stained yellow, cream and greyish-brown from long and unguessable uses, was anchored with rocks over two boulders. It provided a shade from the heat and, from the road below or even the slopes above, was utterly indistinguishable from the surrounding landscape. At various times, one or two of the men would rush off on errands, but it was a long and tedious day of waiting. We tried to sleep fitfully, but the heat and stillness were implacable. We ate very well of cold meats as the sun set, then dozed for perhaps two hours.
The moon was a waxing crescent, the stars bright when we made ready. The instructions were simple: Be ready to fight for our lives and those of our masters within an hour. We heard strange and occasionally-violent sounds, then loud cries of alarm and shouted orders. One incredibly-loud bellow saw Furge's teeth begin to chatter as his entire body quaked with tension. The sounds echoed through the landscape weirdly, misleadingly. Ghamad and Lavic lost themselves in silent prayers and I sent several to the One True God as well.
Suddenly, we heard a loud, booming laugh and Volot nearly fainted. Pameten, at least, was returning in high spirits... and alive. He was accompanied by Sziklak, who was bleeding freely rom a long gash in his arm. Furge ran to him at a gesture, clutching a bundle like the one I'd inherited from Strasta. Behind him was Cat. My stomach clenched. Harcos did not follow. I started to weep before Pam even got to us.
"Kucuk! Harcos' pup!" He bellowed, "Have you been hurt?" I looked up, utterly bereft and unable to speak.
I felt Grubo grab me from behind and pull me into a meaty, warm hug. He whispered in my ear, "Do you think the great Pameten would by so jolly if your master was hurt or dead, my young friend? I guarantee you that the wound on Sziklak's arm is the only blood that spilt this day... or at least the only Roman blood."
I turned to Pam who patted my head, "Be still, pup, no mere rebels can take down your hound." He smiled and me and the others. "While the Stone Giant gets ministered to by Furge, the rest of you pack everything including the cloth and follow. We will be sleeping in the comfortable niche the rebels so politely offered for our use." He chuckled evilly, but we were on our way in minutes.
I didn't notice much when we arrived in my anxiety about Harcos. I plunged into his arms and hugged him tight enough he winced. Thinking back on it, the differences between the way each of us greeted the men we served was amazing.
Ghamad fell to his knees and bowed his head to Say'f sandals, reciting some prayer that I doubted was popular with Rome. I'd heard the language before; they were Jews, the original people of Christ, but not yet brought within His flock. In an instant, he was washing every piece of exposed skin he could find while Say'f drank deeply from the water-skin Ghamad had handed to him.
Billen ran forward with a brush in each hand, primping his master, Cat. Finally, the lithe and supple warrior grabbed the servant's forearms and Billen started kissing his master's hands fervently. Pyrkagia held out his hands and gripped the tall Stelio's arms, gazing into his eyes. Neither moved but I saw a tear drip slowly. Grubo moved forward and embraced his master, and both seemed extremely happy; whereas the Skink has his baltea covering and protecting his jewels, Grubo's soft tunica did nothing to hide a massive erection.
Lavic simply ran up and began to run his hands everywhere across his master's body, searching for nicks and scratches the calm man might not have felt yet. He scowled fiercely when he found a tear in the side of the tunica, a near miss that transformed Lavic's beauty into a demon of vengeance at the thought an enemy had the temerity to come that close to scratching his master.
For me, I found my worry turned to fury. "Were you hurt anywhere, my Harcos?" My voice shook and Harcos blinked and smiled. "I ask so I know where not to bite you later for leaving me in that, that, that hole with no guess if you were dead or not." Harcos laughed heartily and swung me into his arms. I was not particularly in the mood for a cuddle, but he buried his nose in my ear and purred deeply. I shivered as he spoke.
"I promise to make it up to you tonight in a very special way, my darling Kucuk. If there had been real danger, my Dasqas, my jewel, I would have told you and given instructions. There was never any doubt, though. Look around you, puppy."
For the first time, I did just that. The rebels had created a blind that would have been insanely-expensive in Roman wounded and dead to attack directly. They had lain timbers against the rock wall where a cleft had formed. By piling rocks on top, they were immune from bombardment by anything less that the heavy catapults which would take time to reach this place. A foot-tall gap in the stone let them fire at will into the gorge below. They even had a cookfire on one end and a latrine on the other!
They also had a lot of dead bodies. I counted six in the deep gloom under the beams and perhaps another half-dozen scattered around. I swallowed frequently the fight down my bile at the sight. They were largely intact, which helped. They appeared to have been killed close in with small weapons.
I would hear the whole story over time, but the men had come up the poorly-guarded ridge silently. A cast stone brought a sentry to his feet, which he left quickly with one of Pameten's darts pierced through his chest. Cat's stilettos were there before he could gurgle, much less scream. The next sentry fell to Handart's pilum, plunging into the middle of his back and killing him instantly. The third fell to Skink's bow which Grubo explained in loving detail had sent an arrow literally into the man's Adam's Apple. He died slowly but without a sound.
A fourth was luckier or at least more awake. Sziklak had tried to drop on his little sentry post and the rebel must has sensed something. He moved and actually used his arrow as a dagger before the massive man's mace obliterated his skull. He'd made enough noise that rebels boiled out of the protective shield of wood and stone. Say'f's weighted net ensnared four of them. Those met their deaths at the end of my master's blades; two others to Pameten's longsword and one to the Spanish Sword of Handart.
Stelio with his strange tridents and Cat with his stilettos gathered behind the massive Sziklak and his shield as the man bulled from one end-opening to the other, howling a barbarian cry that shook the small space. Six of the seven surprised bowmen threw themselves to either side where death awaited on the tip of a trident or thin dagger. The seventh fled through the end where the latrine sat and scrambled away, only to find his progress halted abruptly by Skink's hard-swung shield to the rebel's face. He fell to his screaming death on the rocks far below.
But at that moment, I did as my master said and simply looked. This sad, desperate place had seen the deaths of eighteen men, but the cookfire still burned merrily. I turned to Harcos, my Aldus, my salvation. "You have blood on your blades," I said shakily but firmly and began to clean them.
When I felt I was under control, I joined the others in the horrid work of retrieving darts and arrows from the bodies, stripping them then throwing them into the gorge below. Those ensnared by the net Say'f threw were particularly gruesome. I had to turn away and stopper my ears as Grubo and Furge hacked off one dead man's arm as that was the only way to untangle him from the webbing.
The men built up the fire, scoured the area for unexpected guests and set warning traps in a wide variety of places. Pameten told us to assume that there would be fighting just before or after dawn as men came to resupply and/or relieve the dead rebels. After we'd cleaned each other and eaten from the rebels' stores, Harcos handed me a pack and took one for himself as well as the flax-cloth and we set out. It was still at least four hours until dawn.
We scrambled back the way they'd ascended and I marvelled at the complexity of the climb. About halfway down, Harcos pointed to one side. There was a wide ledge there with a fallen boulder on one end. He spread half our blankets down, then covered them with the flax-cloth. He pulled me to him and whispered, "I promised to make up for your fear and worry, my Dasqas. Do you know one thing that is very special about working as an As away from the Century?" I shook my head, puzzled. "You don't have to be quiet," a deep chuckle made my insides quiver and I let out a low moan when I felt his breath again on my ear, "and I have yet to give my puppy my very best bone."
I was naked so fast I don't even know where the clothes went and I growled as I found and released all the parts of my master's kit. I had him deep in my throat even as I struggled to rid him of the last few garments. He just laughed and let me. He finally spun me so I straddled his massive chest and I squealed when I felt his rough tongue at my pucker.
I gobbled him hungrily, letting my hands rove and tease his own ass and taint, but it was terribly hard to concentrate. His dick popped out of my mouth and I threw my head back in a gasp when he stiffened his tongue and wormed it inside. I began to shake and jerk so Harcos began to us his brute strength to push my hips back and forth, dragging my cock through the sweat-slick fur on his chest. His tongue drove me wild with need. Suddenly it was too much and I wailed in the glory of my orgasmic release, flooding my master's pelt with my seed.
He gave me no time to recover, no time even to think. I was still spasming when I found myself lifted and put on the flax-cloth on my hands and knees. One huge finger gobbed with beef tallow wormed inside. I chuffed at the change then moaned. My precious Aldus let me shiver and whimper as my orgasm finally settled and my ass became less furiously-sensitive. He cooed in my ear and I could feel the heat of his bulk over me. I looked between my legs and could see my manhood was already hard again, one of Harcos' massive thighs between my paler legs.
A second finger joined the first and he found that Holy Place within me. He didn't tease it this time, just rubbed across it as his fingers worked in and out of my ass. I tensed and hissed when his third, wide finger broached me and Harcos froze until he felt my asshole relax a little. With infinite gentleness, he began to saw in and out until I was panting with need and whining for more.
He withdrew entirely and I cursed him for doing so, but finally felt a massive thing back there. One fingertip after another entered me, until the fourth made me yelp in pain. It felt like a horse had mounted me! Those fingers began to move and twirl, seducing my ass to open wider and wider. In minutes, all four, thick, hairy fingers were reaching in far enough to scrape tantalisingly across that sacred nubbin of flesh.
I whimpered in need when I felt his rough breath and beard at my ear. He growled, deep with passion, need and force, "Do you know why this flax-cloth has its rich and varied colours?" I shook my head like a puppy with wet ears. He had four fingers up my ass he wanted to talk about a fucking fabric? "Every man to join our As and every boy who serves him has had a load fucked out of him by a Nemesis Warrior."
He popped all of his fingers out and I felt the spongy head of that mammoth cock knocking at my back door. "Kucuk, my Dasqas, from this moment to forever, you are Nemesis." I yelped loudly and bit down as the width of that knob popped into me, then let a small scream escape when it popped through the second ring. I was weeping with the pain, but he sat there, frozen, until my body accepted the intruder. It was, I swear before the One True God, the last pain I felt that evening.
Harcos slowly, lovingly, skewered me on that massive pole. I moaned so loudly I heard an echo answer from the rock, the sound of a tormented and extremely happy soul. Suddenly his massive cock found that place, the seat of my mind, body and soul. He left him cock pressed hard against it, neither moving across nor withdrawing.
"O, by every Heathen god, take me, my Aldus. Take me! Take me!" When the repeated phrase went up a notch in needy desperation, he at last plunged all the way in, sending powerful bolts to every place one of his hairs touched me, including my pulled-up balls that ached for release. I hollered and plunged my hand down to achieve that blessed glory but Harcos grabbed my hand and pulled it away as I writhed and fought.
"You will not touch yourself this time, my precious puppy. It must not be done." I wailed at the news and went slowly out of my mind as he gently but lustily plundered my ass. I wanted it to last a lifetime and I wanted it over NOW! Slowly, mercilessly, I felt the need in my cock became unbearable, then the need shifted and I squealed, cock forgotten. My ass now screamed for more and I begged Harcos in every language I knew and at least three I invented on the spot.
His relentless sawing pace glitched, and suddenly my barbarian warrior was literally fucking me senseless. Without any sense of warning, I howled in exultation and unloaded from my aching balls and weeping cock, spraying all the way up the flax-cloth well beyond my face. A deeper, answering howl ripped through the rocks as Harcos exploded deep inside me. I wept in joyous exhaustion as we both collapsed to press my offering in between the seed of every Nemesis warrior and servant.
Harcos brought me off two more times and came again himself that night, never once pulling out of me. He took me on my back and I revelled in wonder at the way his muscled body worked and the transcendent expression that my ass could bring to my beloved master's face. Lastly, he laid back with me above him. I was nearly insensate with bliss -- emotionally, spiritually and physically -- and let tears of utmost joy flow freely as he manipulated and used my body to drag him to his second incredible orgasm.
I felt it when his massive manhood escaped my ass and sighed as he settled in into the crook of his arm against his sweat-drenched body, then dragged the other blankets over us. Harcos dozed but my exhaustion was the kind that precluded even the pretence of slumber. I wept more than once from joy over the next couple of hours, and felt my master's ultimate sacrament leak from my very tender, very abused ass.
Harcos woke abruptly, frowned and put a hand over my mouth. I had been fully awake but heard nothing at all.
Harcos took his longsword in his left hand and silently withdrew the Spanish Sword from its sheath with the other. His leonine form rose like Leviathan as he signalled me to stay frozen and silent. I heard soft but violent sounds as Harcos stood, tense as a taut bow. There was one shout of utter dismay and another of agony before everything fell silent. Harcos relaxed so fast he nearly fell when an unfamiliar night bird broke into a short song.
My master pushed his swords to the side and pulled me to him in and intense and passionate hug. I looked up at him, confused. "They came early, my Dasqas, earlier than I had expected. All met the fate of their brethren." I shook my head in bewilderment. "That was no bird, my puppy. That was Skink telling us that all was well. A different bird would have spoken, unknown in these hills just like the first, had they needed us. They don't, but we will clean up and head back nonetheless."
He pulled the flax-cloth up and wiped the sweat, tears, cum, snot and whatever amalgam was leaking from my ass away, then cleansed himself as well. He told me to step away and relieve myself, then return to him, handing me a small stack of broadleaves. When I returned, he cleaned me again with the cloth. I was shocked, though, when Harcos spread the soiled but sacred flax-cloth back out and had me help him anchor it with a dozen heavy rocks along all sides.
"My Aldus! We surely cannot be leaving this?"
He smiled wickedly. "Oh, no, Kucuk my puppy. This cloth will never be left behind if a member of the As of Nemesis still breathes. But you are not the only new face to join our sacred band, and with luck we will be in his place several days to protect the flank of the Centuries that come to tame the rebels. Several days and," my master chuckled evilly, "nights as well."
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Canvas Hell: 30 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 21 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 23 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Lake Desolation: 15 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/ Shark Reef: 8 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/ Culberhouse Rules: 6 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/ Raven's Claw: 4 chapters .../authoritarian/ravens-claw/
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