The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (14 page)

“In three hours, pretty boy,” Timishi hissed. “My lodgings. Come alone and be prepared for the worst, the most painful night of your life. I promise you, there will be not one muscle, not one bone in your entire body,” he said with an evil grin, “that will not be begging for the sun to rise.”

Between Wolves and Vultures

“
I shouldn't have done this. I should so not have done this,”
Lorcko thought, in a mild panic, standing in his underwear in the middle of Timishi's room.

The Mukthar prince looked grinning at his prey.

“
Those Ximerionians sure can look nice,” he mused. “A fine, no a perfect specimen. I'm so going to enjoy
ripping through that soft, delicious flesh while planting my flag. He does have muscles, but they're for show,
for putting himself on display. I bet they've hardly been used. He hasn't that wiriness about him lik been
useheye his frishiu, he lacks his iron center, but he is beautiful to look at. There's no denying that.”

He was going to blot out his humiliating defeat at the hands of the Ximerionian prince, that much was sure, he thought satisfied. This nervous deer standing there before him was going to feel what Mukthar power was, and what it could do. How it could fell him and how it could invade him.

Timishi nodded at his opponent, who nodded back, albeit with far less self-assurance.

Without giving any further notice the Mukthar lunged at Lorcko, pushing him on both shoulders, while at the same time putting his left foot behind him, making him trip and tumble down, clawing into empty air. He managed to grab onto an arm and break most of the momentum of his fall, had to let go again and got hold of Timishi's loincloth, which he tore of the Mukthar's body while tumbling down.

Having fallen down on his back, he saw the naked Mukthar prince pounce down and felt all air knocked out of him when two knees landed square on his belly. He tried to push the barbarian off of him, and for a moment it seemed he would succeed, but still gasping for air his arms were pushed down to the ground and suddenly Timishi sat astride him, grinning even more broadly, if that were possible. He tried to wriggle out of the Mukthar's hold, but Timishi pushed both his knees into his kidneys and slapped him hard in the face with his right hand. While he tried to fend off the Mukthar's right hand he got another slap in the face, this time from his assailant's left hand. Shifting his attention in that direction another blow from the right landed full on his cheek.

Tears of frustration sprang to his eyes as he realized that he couldn't get one blow in himself, and that the Mukthar wasn't even fighting him. He was just being disciplined, slapped around like an unruly child. Was there nobody, really nobody anymore who took him in the least serious. Bundling all his anger in both his fists and trying to ignore the smacks in his face he managed to strike Timishi in the chest.

The Mukthar looked up, surprised, and laughing all the while, got hold of both his wrists with his left hand, while his open right landed with double force on Lorcko's face.

“Give up, pretty boy?” the Mukthar prince sneered.

“Go to Murokthil, Mukthar. Damn you,” Lorcko spat defiantly.

“After you, boy,” Timishi said evenly, landing another whack in his face, which this time knocked the unlucky page almost unconscious. “I can keep this up for hours, you know,” he added with a malicious smirk.

Lorcko knew he couldn't stand much more of this, so with an ultimate effort he arched his back, hoping to unbalance the Mukthar sitting on his belly. He let out a bellow of powerless fury, only managing to dissipate his energy, while Timishi easily kept his position, riding him like he would a bucking horse.

He was just in time to close them. Timishi had grabbed his head and put both his thumbs on his eyes. He felt an almost unbearable pressure, which he couldn't get rid of, neither by shaking his head, nor by pulling at the Mukthar's arms.

“Give up, boy, or by the lice infested groin of Shardosh I'll push your eyes into your witless brain.”

Lorcko didn't doubt for a second that the Mukthar prince would be as good as his word. His head still ringing with the slaps he had received, his eyes hurting and his muscles stiff with the ineffectual exertion he had put them through, he knew he had no ertione hivechoice if he ever wanted to see the sun rise again.

“All right, all right, you win,” he shouted, both furious and desperate for the pressure on his eyes to go away.

Almost symbolically he spread his arms on the floor to indicate that he had ceased all resistance.

Only now Timishi permitted himself to breath heavily. He got up, grabbing Lorcko by his lush, black hair and pulling him upward as he rose.

“You know how this goes on, don't you?” the Mukthar prince asked, panting and forcing the page on his knees before him and keeping his head before his slowly rising member. “Service me,” he commanded harshly.

Overcome with vexation and crushed to the point of tears, Lorcko took the Mukthar's member in his mouth and tentatively started sucking it. He felt his hair being grabbed firmer, while the prince's body became taut as gulfs of pleasure rippled through it.

“That's enough of that,” Timishi snarled after a few moments, treating Lorcko as he had been treated by Anaxantis. “Get out of those ridiculous things, lay down on the bed, on your back, lift your legs over your head and spread your ass cheeks.”

Never before in his life Lorcko had been spoken to, let alone been treated, in a manner this vile. He started to protest, but another slap landed in his face and the Mukthar prince pulled him up by his hair.

He yelped with pain at the rough treatment, then with indignation as he felt his underpants being ripped of his body. Naked now, Timishi dragged him to the bed and threw him upon it. Jumping upon the unhappy page, who by now was too depressed to resist any longer, he grabbed one of his wrists and bound it with a rough cord that was already attached to the bedpost. The, he did the same with Lorcko's other wrist.

Timishi lifted the page's legs upward. Two other strands of rope, thinner but equally strong, hung attached, higher, to the bedpost. He quickly wound one a few times around Lorcko's left big toe, then another around the right one.

His whole weight now pulling on two toes was visibly an excruciating experience for the boy.

“Just keep your ass in the air, or you'll rip off your toes, Ximerionian,” Timishi snarled. He smiled satisfied.

He felt sure he was going to redeem his earlier defeat. This was how the mravinshinor should go. With a Mukthar on top.

He walked away, returning with a small bowl. Lorcko followed him anxiously, as far as his demeaning posture permitted him.

“Pig's fat,” Timishi announced. “Not for your comfort, but for mine. I don't want to hurt my shlong because your hole is too tight.”

He stuck his right index finger in the bowl, and, kneeling on the bed, introduced it roughly in Lorcko's entrance. Never having been penetrated before, the page flinched and couldn't prevent an anguished scream escaping his lips. Timishi laughed.

“My finger is far less thick than my shlong, boy. But you'll get used to it soon enough, I reckon.”

“Don't stick... don't do that, you despicable, obscene wild animal.”

Timishi put a second greasy finger inside him.

“You, your ass, your hole, your shlong, your balls, in fact everything about you, is mine until sunrise, to do with as I see fit,” Timishi said calmly, while turning both his fingers a quarterd calma q yo turn.

“I hate you,” Lorcko groaned angrily.

“Seven times. My personal record is seven times in one night. We're going to try to break that record, you and I, aren't we?” Timishi's only response was.

He stood up and once again returned, this time with his dagger.

Now, Lorcko panicked in earnest. He was tied up, helpless and naked, in the hands of a merciless barbarian, who was carrying a knife. A very sharp, ragged knife.

“No, please, don't... I'll do anything you ask... don't...”

“Stop whining, boy, I'm not going to cut you up.”

He kneeled again on the bed and put the hilt of the dagger, which had a big, metal knob for a pommel, against Lorcko's entrance. Then he pushed, holding the dagger by the cross-guard, first the pommel, then the ribbed hilt deep inside the boy.

The Mukthar prince leaned back and admired his handiwork.

“That should stretch you somewhat,” he said contentedly. “But no too much. You need to hurt when I enter you of course, because I want to feel your hole contracting in outrage around my shlong. It's the best feeling ever, fucking a resisting hole.”

Lorcko couldn't believe his ears. For that matter he couldn't believe the situation he was in, with the hilt of a dagger inside him and a barbarian discussing how he was going to use him. He, Lorcko of Iramid.

“You stinking barbarian. I hate you,” he raged.

“Hate me all you want, boy. I will penetrate your ass all the same. I will plant my flag. Not once, not twice, but several times, again and again. It doesn't matter to me that you weep. Or that you cry out. It won't make no difference whatsoever. In fact, I hope you put up some semblance of resistance. It will just make me more hot, and it would be in the spirit of the mravinshinohr. It's all about who's the stronger man, you see.”

Lorcko tugged with his arms at his restraints, but he only managed to put more strain upon his bound up toes, which already had turned a purple-bluish tint.

“Do I have to remind you that it was you who wanted this, boy? I was prepared to let you off easy,” Timishi grinned. “But you insisted. So here we are. I hope it is all you expected it to be,” he added, yanking the dagger out of the page's ass.

Lorcko once more let out a painful cry, and again when Timishi leaned over him, and without any warning entered him forcefully with a satisfied grunt. The page inhaled sharply and bit his lip as he felt the agonizing pain caused by the Mukthar prince moving back and forward inside him.

“
So this is how it feels,”
he thought bitterly. “
So this is how I made them feel, all those guys. This is what it
is, being fucked, being used.”

He started crying, without being able to stop himself. First with humiliation, rather than pain. Then from the misery of all that had happened to him these last days out of Murokthil, culminating in this ultimate ignominy of being bound up by his wrists and toes, his ass open and vulnerable in the air, being utilized by a savage for his depraved barbarian pleasure, as a thing, a mere vessel for semen.

With a deep groan Timishi shuddered and with a mighty thrust of his hips sunk his member as deep as possible into Lorcko. The page felt a warm substance spread inside hko. Th inhtyim. When he saw Timishi, still in the thralls of his climax, studying his face he tried to turn away, ashamed and miserable, but even this small mercy wasn't allowed him. Although he looked sideways, he still felt the Mukthar's probing eyes burn into his flesh. And...

And he simply gave up. This was what he deserved. This was what he had become. The heir of Iramid, abased beyond every conceivable level. Bound by his toes, his legs spread, his entrance open for the pleasure of a barbarian chieftain. Powerless to resist. Less than a whore. They at least decided themselves who could fuck them.

He just didn't care anymore. He let his tears stream freely. He mourned the Lorcko who had glorified in his physical beauty, his social status and his brains. Who had prided himself in his education, his civilization. To what did it all avail him now?

He cringed when he felt Timishi grab his member and his ball sack. He braced himself for more torment and pain.

The Mukthar prince tilted his head and looked pensively at the crying boy. He had wanted to humble this impertinent boy, this ignorant Ximerionian. He had wanted to retaliate, brutally, cruelly even, for his defeat, as devastating as it had been unexpected. He had rejoiced in the prospect of reducing this pretty plaything to tears.

But not these tears. This wasn't his doing, he realized. This was not merely a proud Ximerionian noble cringing in helpless horror at being used for a Mukthar's pleasure. These tears came from elsewhere. From deeper inside him. This was not just distress for innocence and pride, lost irretrievably. This was a world going under.

It made the boy... interesting.

He got up and untied the ropes at his toes, then his wrists. Lorcko let his painful legs slowly drop down on the bed, and still weeping, nursed his wrist one by one. Then, resignedly, he turned on his belly.

“Do whatever you must do, Mukthar,” he managed to say in a croaking voice, through his bitter tears. A smidgen of defiance in surrender. At least that.

Timishi lay down beside him.

“What is your name, boy?” he asked.

“Lorcko,” the boy sobbed, surprised.

The Mukthar prince frowned.

“I seem to have heard about you, Lorsho,” he said after a while.

“Yeah... well, it's probably all true. Or it was, anyway.”

“Hm. Why are you crying so hard? It's not what I would expect, with your reputation. I didn't hurt you that much.”