The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (20 page)

“Stand up and turn around,” his lord commanded.

With a head, fiery red, both from shame and the exertion of bending over, he did. His lord's eyes met his, and he did his utmost not to look away under the inquisitive, investigating stare. He became even more red. He felt more naked than naked. More naked than he had ever felt or been.

A hand lay itself flat upon his underbelly, feeling for stubbles, and traveled downwards to just above his member, then beside it and under his ballsack.

All the while his lord's eyes kept studying him intensely.

Then he felt a calloused hand take his member, firmly, and it reacted, rising, rising, until it stood upright, hard and stiff in the hand of his lord, who, gently now, kept holding it.

He couldn't bear it anymore. He lowered his head in shame, closing his eyes.

“Do I beat you, Tarno?” his lord asked softly.

“No, my lord, you don't,” he whispered.

“Are my demands to do little chores around the room excessive, you think?”

“No, my lord, they aren't.”

Involuntary he moved a little, and his member inched a little bit forward in his lord's hand. It was both an exhilarating as deeply mortifying feeling. His lord must have seen his excitement, felt it in his hand, but didn't remark upon it.

“Don't I give you permission to stoke the fire as hard as you please, so you don't have to feel cold?”

“You do, my lord. You do,” he sobbed.

“Don't I share my food with you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Again he couldn't help moving a little bit. This time backwards. It felt as if he was retained by his bald cock.

He blushed even more intensely.

“Then why, Tarno? Why? You'll have to explain, you see, because I don't understand. What is it I don't understand, Tarno? What is it you are keeping from me?”

Again those inquisitive, steel-em" ale, Whgray eyes bored deep into his being.

It was the last thing. The last thing that was his and his alone. His secret hiding place within himself.

His lord had seen it. Seen something.

“Do you think it is fair to hide things from me, Tarno?”

“No, my lord,” he cried out loud now. “No, it isn't. It isn't.”

“Well then?” his lord asked softly, sadly almost.

“It's... It's this place. This place in my mind.”

“Ah.”

“I sometimes go there...”

“And?”

“There I am... I am... There I am not Tarno.”

He saw his lord had to strain his ears to understand him. But he smiled. Thank the Gods, he wasn't mad. He smiled. He smiled.

“Not Tarno? You
do
know that is an illusion, don't you? A figment of your mind. A cruel deception. Because you are Tarno. Nothing but Tarno. Whatever, whoever you think you remember doesn't exist. Not here. Not now. Can you see anybody else?”

“No, my lord... no... I know... It was hope... Hope did this.”

“Hope, Tarno? There's nothing to hope for. Not for you. Haven't I told you, a long time ago, that this was it?

Have you forgotten, Tarno?”

“No... Yes... for some moments, my lord... when I went there...”

“Another illusion, Tarno. Another illusion.”

“I know.”

“Is that why you are blushing when I touch your cock, Tarno? Is that why you are ashamed to show me your hole?”

“I... I...”

“It is, isn't it? Let me ask you: are horses ashamed to show their hole? Does the fox in the woods mind walking around with his cock for all to see?”

“No, no my lord.”

“Then why are you ashamed, Tarno? Do you think you're better than them. More? More valuable than a horse? More cunning than a fox?”

“
This must be intolerable for you. Show yourself.”

The floods were open in earnest now. He couldn't stop his tears and didn't want to anymore.

“No, my lord, I am not. I am Tarno. Your Tarno. Nothing more. Nothing else. Just Tarno. I am yours, completely yours. Everything about me is yours to do with as you please.”

“Yes, it is. I want you to go to that place, deep, deep inside you, Tarno, and close it. Close it for good. For ever. It's for your own sake. That place is bad for you. Don't you see? It makes you unhappy. It makes you to want the world to be something it is not. It makes you to want to be someone you are not. It's idle hope. It's false. It's treacherous. It will be your downfall. Wanting something that never was and never can be. That is what makes you unhappy, Tarno. I don't want you to be unhappy.”

“I know, I know,” he cried out, unable to hold back his tears.

“Sht. I'll help you,” his lord said, softly rubbing his thumb over his member. “Don't I always help you? Close it. Take a few steps back. Now, see it dissolve, disintegrate inw stepegrmb to nothingness... It's easy, Tarno, because it was only an illusion to begin with. Illusions can't stand to be looked at. Their fabric isn't equal to inspection. Have you done, what I said?”

“I have my lord. I have. It's not there anymore. It isn't, it really isn't.”

“Good, Tarno, very good.”

And it really had disappeared. It really wasn't there anymore. He felt for it, but there was only emptiness. His lord had saved him from a great danger. From hope, terrible hope itself. His merciful lord, in his goodness, had taken hope away.

All would be well now. Only, not just yet.

“Wait here, Tarno,” his lord, his good, kind lord said. “Wait here while I try to figure out what to do about you.”

Half an hour after his lord had sat down in his chair again, he called him.

“Tarno, come here and stand before me.”

His lord looked up to him.

“I really, really can't make a decision. Help me out here, Tarno. Why should I keep you? Give me a good, solid reason. One.”

He panicked. Because he didn't know a reason. There wasn't one, he realized. There was no good reason in the entire world why his lord should burden himself with Tarno.

He licked his lips. He searched his mind frantically for something to say. Anything. But there was nothing.

Nothing. No reason. Only his selfish wish to stay. What could he say? What could he do?

So, he sank down upon his knees before his lord and started crying again. And pleading.

“Please, my lord, don't send me away. I can give you no reason. I just don't want to leave you. I just don't...”

Sobbing he abased himself even lower. He put his forehead on the ground. To show how harmless he was.

How pitiful.

“Please, master,
master
, don't send your Tarno away.”

Then he saw his lord had rid himself of the light shoes he usually wore in the room and was resting his bare feet on the thick rug. He leaned forward and put his lips lightly upon the instep of one foot, then the other, grabbing his lord's ankles with both his hands. Tears fell on his lord's feet.

He looked up and saw that his lord had slightly arched his back and was looking at the ceiling, holding his breath.

Encouraged, he brushed his lips over the strong toes, one by one. When he heard his lord's breathing becoming heavier, he stuck the tip of his tongue out, just a little bit, and started licking each toe separately.

Now his lord had arched his back much farther and was holding on to the arms of the chair, his knuckles white.

“
He likes it, he likes it, he likes his Tarno licking his feet,”
he thought triumphantly.

He stuck out his tongue some more and worked it in between the toes, trying at the same time to envelop them with his lips.

After having gone over every toe several times he heard him grunt. He looked up and saw his lord had a massive erection, pushing against his pants. He crawled upright.

“Let me help you, master,” he whispered hoarsely, fumbling at the cord of the pants.

Without a word, his lord rose. Now, with his master standing before him he released, almost reverently, his member and looked up, asking, begging to be ordered what to do, all the while caressing it, holding it against his cheek. But his master only nodded and expected his Tarno to
know
what to do.

He put his lips around the tip. Immediately he felt his master's hands on the back of his head, shoving it over his member. Tarno didn't resist. Of course he didn't resist. Neither did he fight it when he felt his master's member going deeper in his mouth than it ever had, and deeper and deeper still, until he thought for a moment he would puke. But he was too afraid. He willed his throat to open, to open more, to open wide to receive his master.

His nose was now buried in the rich, thick blond bush, and breathing heavily he inhaled greedily its musky odor, which made him almost drunk. He would be hoarse tomorrow, and the day after and the rest of the week he realized as he felt his master moving deep, deep in his throat.

“
For you master,”
he thought, “
all for you, my good, my kind, my just master.”

He felt exultant, jubilant as he heard the suppressed, raw groan and felt the hot liquid drip down copiously, deep inside his throat. He had served his master well, he knew. He had given him the most ardent, the most satisfying orgasm he had ever experienced. All by giving himself totally, completely. By not holding back.

By not refusing his master. By truly allowing himself to be possessed by him. Completely.

He felt whole.

He scraped his throat after his master had withdrawn all but the tip of his member.

“Clean me. Softly. Lips only,” he ordered hoarsely, but not unkindly.

He set to work, cleaning the head softly by gliding his lips over it and then he set them, as if kissing it, against the slit, ever so gently sucking the last drop of semen out of the already deflating member. He wiped his lips with the back of his hands, hastily, and put them against the shaft, still wet with his saliva. His master wrung his hands in his Tarno's hair. Yes, yes, his master was liking this feeling. This feeling of being obediently, reverently served by his Tarno. His Tarno who loved him. His Tarno who was born for this and this alone.

This,
this
was why he should keep his Tarno.

He sat on his knees before his masters, his butt on his heels, his hands on his knees. Waiting patiently for his next orders.

Anaxantis looked down on his brother, sitting before him and sighed deeply.

“
What is wrong?”
Tarno thought, looking up shyly. “
I've been good. I've been everything my master expects
me to be. I know he liked it. Then why is he sad? Is it because he is still going to send me away? No. No.”

“Master,” he whispered, “you are not going to send your Tarno away, are you?”

Anaxantis looked again at his older brother, who now looked up at him with pleading, yet resigned eyes.

“No,” he said. “No. Not this time. I'm not sending you away for now. Go to your room, Tarno.”

He didn't dare sigh with relief, but scrambled up.

“Yes, master. Thank you master,” he said and hurried out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

L>usthurater, lying on his straw sack, eyes wide open, staring in the dark, he tried to make sense of what had happened.

He felt... not exactly happy, but... at peace. He felt for the first time in his life he had found his place. It was all so simple. He was. That was all. He was and what happened, happened because his master wanted it. He just had to follow. Nothing more. There was warmth. There was food. There was this nice soft sack full of fragrant straw on which it was good to sleep, and from which he always rose rested. There was a roof above his head, and above all, there was his master. His master who understood everything. Even his stupid Tarno.

He hadn't a care in the world. Everything was provided for him. He didn't have to worry about anything. His master saw to all he needed, all he ever could need.

He needn't be ashamed about anything. His mouth, his dick, his hole... it was all his master's anyway, to look at or use whenever he pleased, however he pleased. It wasn't Tarno's concern what his master chose to do with his possessions. It was little repayment enough for his goodness, his kindness. His infinite patience with his stupid Tarno.

He turned on his side and fell into a contended sleep.

Anaxantis lay staring in the dark as well, in his great, soft, luxurious bed.

“
He has awakened the monsters again. And I can't keep them quiet. It is so, so alluring to leave it at this. To
keep him forever like this. Licking my feet. And I like it. I like seeing him kneel before me, pleading, begging.

I like touching his dick, making him show me his hole, humiliating him, making him blush, making him
realize there is nothing he can do. Making him feel that I own him. Everything about him. Because like this
he can never hurt me again. Like this he can never again do what he did. Like this he is harmless. It is
perfect. It is also not what I want.

“
How easy it has been. How easy all of it has been. Poor, poor Tarno.”

He tossed around. This evening hadn't resolved anything, he realized. Yes, it had been easy, too easy, but it had made things worse, much worse.