The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (45 page)

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Rullio of Brenx had crossed the Amirathan border early on

the twenty seventh of February. His progress was slowed down

somewhat because he made regular stops to inquire where the lord-

governor could be found. “At Lorseth Castle”, was the answer he

got at first. The more he got to the center of the province, the more

unsure the people he asked became.

The Northern Highway ran all the way to Dermolhea and at

the fork with the road to Lorseth he hesitated. A chance encounter

with a traveler who came from the direction of the residence of the

governor made his dilemma disappear.

“The young lord-governor?” the man said. “Oh, my good sir,

you’ll have to travel quite a bit further if you want to meet him. As

far as anybody knows he is somewhere on the Renuvian Plains.

Where exactly? Nobody knows. Seems he wanted to survey the place

himself. Plans to stop the barbarians before they even enter the land.

Yes, the guy has no sitting ass, as we say in Ramaldah. Always on the

move, that one. Restless.”

Rullio thanked the man and took the road to Dermolhea,

reckoning that not only would he be near the border whenever the

prince crossed it on his way back, but that news of that event was

more likely to reach a great city than any other place. He planned to

intercept him on his way to Lorseth.

Thinking the situation over, he became very worried. He had

to speak to the prince as soon as possible. He calculated that he

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had a lead of approximately five, maybe even six days. If luck was

with them, a week. But when would the prince come back from his

expedition? His best bet was still Dermolhea. Maybe there he could

find out something more. If need be he would venture into the

Renuvian Plains himself. The Gods forbid that his highness would

return, only to find the Marches in full control of the autarch.

He had bridged the distance between Nira and the Marches

sooner than the king could have hoped, and yet now time was

running through his fingers as loose grains of sands.

In the afternoon of the twenty eight Rullio entered Dermolhea

by the main gate, having left his horse in the Merchant Guild station

outside the city walls, and what little luggage he had slung over his

shoulders in his saddlebags.

The smells were unfamiliar and so were the building style of the

houses, but the noise and the crowds he recognized all too well. He

took to the city like a duck to water. Dermolhea seemed to have quite

a few grandiose buildings, silent witnesses of a great past. Some still

bore visible signs of the sack of 1440 although great care had been

taken to repair most of the damage.

Almost instinctively he made his way to the commercial center

where he knew his best chances were to learn something about

where the prince could be. Traveling merchants were the bringers

of all kinds of tidings. So, it was only a matter of finding out where

they hung out.

A tavern with the promising name of The Weary Traveler proved

to be exactly what he was looking for. Some of the patrons looked

up suspiciously when this well clad young man, obviously a noble,

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entered their waterhole. But Rullio’s unassuming demeanor and

generally harmless-looking appearance soon quietened whatever

qualms they might have. They just assumed he was one of these

young lords who liked to slum it once in a while.

The establishment sported an enormous table in the center of

the public room at which everybody who felt the need for company

could take a seat. Some of the men there seemed to know each other

from years ago. Others were relative newcomers. Rullio sat down

at a little table from which he could observe, and most importantly,

overhear what was said at the big table. Which was not too difficult

as the conversation was lively and loud enough to be heard at the

other side of the street.

Soon a young man came to his table to ask what he would have

for a drink, and if he would fancy a healthy but modestly priced meal.

“What would your recommendation be, my friend?” Rullio asked

with his most enchanting smile.

“The lamb chops, my lord, without a shadow of a doubt. They’re

fresh and the landlady herself, my mother, prepares them. Won’t let

anybody come near them. We’re famous for our chops.”

“Yes, I can see that for myself. Your chops seem particularly

succulent.” Rullio smiled.

The young man blushed and remained silent.

“What’s your name?” Rullio asked, still radiating his most

infectious smile.

“You won’t laugh, my lord?” came the answer after some

hesitation.

“Of course not.”

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“Lambert, my lord.”

“Ha, yes. I see. Well, Lambert, chops it is. Lots of them.” Not a hint

of a smile showed on his lips.

While he was still finishing the one but last of his lamb chops,

Lambert brought a new plate.

“I didn’t order a second helping,” he said surprised.

“No, my lord, you didn’t, but I could see you were ravenous for

our chops.”

“Yes, I was, but a whole second plate may be too much for me all

the same. Why don’t you sit down and help me clean it off? The girls

can manage well enough on their own.”

He didn’t have to ask twice and while they finished the second

plate together, Rullio asked him where he would be likely to get more

information about the return of the lord-governor.

“That’s anybody’s guess really, my lord, but this is one of the first

places where you’ll hear about it. Those traveling merchants get

lonely on the road and when they get the chance to talk there’s no

stopping them. And they know things from all their traveling. Maybe

you should join them at the big table. One of them might know when

the governor is expected to return.”

“Good idea. It’ll have to wait though. I still have to find lodgings

for the night.”

Lambert looked up shyly.

“We have a few rooms up for hire. They’re all occupied, but my

room is rather big... if your lordship wouldn’t mind that I slept there

as well. On the floor, of course. You can have the bed.”

“That’s very kind of you, Lambert.” Rullio grinned. “Just how big

is your bed? I doubt it will be necessary for you to sleep on the cold,

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hard floor.”

Lambert blushed. That was precisely the reaction he had hoped

for.

Lambert’s mother had made no objections to Lambert giving

the nice, young nobleman hospitality. She hoped some of his fine

manners would rub off on him.

Once in Lambert’s surprisingly big and comfortable room, things

didn’t go as fluently as Rullio had hoped. His host had suddenly

turned to wood except in the one crucial place where it mattered.

“Lambert,” Rullio smiled charmingly, “I would like to wash up a

little. Do you think you could fetch a basin with nice, warm water?”

“Oh yes, certainly, my lord,” Lambert awoke out of his paralyzed

state, relieved that was all that was asked of him.

Since the kitchen always had a kettle near the boil, Lambert

returned in a few minutes, a basin in his hands and two towels over

his arm. Rullio lay on the bed. The boy looked coyly from under his

long brown hair. Not exactly a classical beauty, Rullio observed. In

fact his legs were just a bit too short for his body and his nose was

slightly curbed. It didn’t matter, because those little defects, if such

they were, just accentuated his natural beauty, and moreover, he was

totally charming in a lost puppy sort of way.

“I’m afraid I’m much too tired to wash myself,” Rullio said. “Could

you help me out, perhaps.”

“I think so, my lord,” Lambert said, his voice hoarse and slightly

moist sounding.

“Well then, help me out of this shirt, will you?”

With trembling fingers Lambert undid the knot in the lace and

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pulled the garment over Rullio’s head.

“If you’re going to wash me, your clothes might get wet. Maybe

you should remove them as well,” he said.

Lambert hesitated, blushing.

“It’s... it’s... I’m shy, my lord. Very shy.”

Rullio knew that this was going to take forever, unless he took

some drastic measures.

“Undress, Lambert. Now,” he ordered.

“But my lord—”

“Now, Lambert, or I am going to be very upset with you.”

Fiery red in the face, Lambert obeyed and slowly removed his

clothes. When finally he was naked, Rullio saw the cause of his

shyness. That is, when he looked carefully. Lambert’s member barely

showed trough his pubic hair. Of course it didn’t show at all from the

moment Lambert covered it with his hands.

Rullio neither smiled nor let surprise show on his face.

“Finish your job, Lambert.”

“My lord?”

“In the name of all the Gods. Undress me. Wash me. Kiss me.

Make love to me. Do something. Anything. Now.”

“Yes, my lord,” Lambert croaked and began loosening Rullio belt.

When he had removed the last stitch of clothing, Lambert took

a long and hard look at Rullio and his member rose. Even in full

erection it would disappear in his hands, Rullio noticed. Not that he

cared. The boy was beautiful and looked all cuddly. There were many

ways to make love, he mused. Having a soft, tender partner in your

arms to caress and fondle could easily compensate for more heated

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action.

“Why don’t you take a towel, dip it in the water and start washing

me?” he said as seductively as he could.

“Wash you? Wash you?” Lambert suddenly exclaimed, jumping

upon the unsuspecting young noble, “I’ll lick you clean.”

Pinning Rullio’s arm down he set to work.

“You’re so dirty, here and here and here,” Lambert mumbled once

in a while, then taking a breath and diving in again.

Completely taken aback Rullio let himself be licked by this fury

that pressed him down in the mattress.

“Dirty, dirty nipples,” said a strangely satisfied sounding, panting

voice.

The rasping movements of Lambert’s tongue over these sensitive

areas made Rullio squirm in helpless abandon.

“Turn around,” Lambert commanded in a hoarse voice.

“Huh?”

“I said: on your belly, you dirty, dirty boy.”

With an unsuspected force Rullio felt himself being turned

around. Not that he struggled. He shivered as he felt his spine being

scraped from his neck to the small of his back. When he heard a low

growling voice say, “Lie still while I clean your hole,” for just a second

he wanted to protest. Then he gave in and let Lambert do whatever

Lambert wanted.

Again he startled when he felt Lambert, lying on his back, push

his head under his groin. The sensation of his balls being licked was

almost intolerable, and when Lambert nibbled gently on his ball sack

he couldn’t help but cry out.

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“Fuck my face, fuck my face with your huge, enormous, monstrous

dick, you dirty, filthy boy,” Lambert moaned, just before taking

Rullio’s member in his mouth.

“Oh Gods, Gods, no, stop, Lambert, please, I can’t...” Rullio cried

out, before burying his face in his pillow.

Just when he thought he would climax, Lambert released his

dick, wormed out from under him and turned him again on his back.

“Wow, Lambert,” Rullio said, taking a deep breath, “that was—”

“Shut up and eat my ass,” Lambert interrupted him panting after

having moved himself in an astride position above Rullio’s face.

Leaning over he again began tormenting the young lord’s

member. Meanwhile Rullio tried to obey Lambert’s command, but

between his moaning and groans he succeeded only intermittently.

Judging by the satisfied, purring sound that came from the region of

his groin it was enough.

When he finally came, Lambert kept sucking until he was satisfied

to have emptied Rullio of the very last drop of semen. Then he sat

upright, only to collapse again in ecstasy when Rullio moved his

tongue between his entrance and his little ball sack. A surprisingly

large quantity of semen spurted all over his guest’s astounded and

unprepared face.

Later, after some washing up, with water this time, there finally

was some cuddling.

“Thank you, my lord,” Lambert whispered, while nestling himself

in Rullio’s arm.

“Whatever for? I seem to remember you did most of the work.”

“For not laughing at my... at me. They usually do.”

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“Oh, sweetheart,” Rullio said, looking deep into his eyes, “whoever

makes fun of you for that is an idiot, and they don’t know what they’re