Date: Wed, 7 Mar 2007 03:14:50 -0500
From: carl_mason@comcast.net
Subject: INDOMITABLE SPIRIT - 6

INDOMITABLE SPIRIT - 6

Copyright 2007 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the author.  However based on real events and
places, "Indomitable Spirit" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold
gradually.  Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to
the author at carl_mason@comcast.net

If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to
the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands safe sex.


CHAPTER 6

(Revisiting Chapter 5)

Taking the boys into his arms, he kissed them both on the forehead and
thanked them profusely.  Had Mike not developed a mammoth erection, all
would have gone perfectly.  Looking down on the memorable sight, the Count
snickered and said, "Well, we may have to find a little saltpeter for you -
or work off your passions in some other way!"  With that he moved off to
the library where he took his evening coffee.  Mike talked the waiter into
giving him the coffee, moved into the library, and set the coffee cup down
on a side table.  He then proceeded to drop into the Count's lap!  Well,
what are you going to do when you've got nearly 165 some odd lbs. of prime
naked teenager in your arms, who's obviously amorous, and who's hard as a
rock?  (Seeking "the other way," the Count did his duty!)

(Continuing Our Story - Living a Decision)

Mike and Larry's enthusiastic approach not only to "opting for life," but
to making life a grand adventure for their Master continued to snowball.
The Count, for instance, sometimes had to turn over and sleep for another
hour when the boys were finished with him in the morning!  True, sexual was
never as...fluid in the castle as on the island, but the boys were surely
working at it.  Whether they and the Count were exercising, hiking,
swimming, or boating together, that which the Count half-humorously called
the "bonobo effect" was much in evidence.  That is, those at the castle
found themselves increasingly turning to informal sex rather than commands
or attempts at "rational discussion."  More and more, a look or a caress
was request enough.  More and more, one didn't get all bent out of shape
when he felt lousy - or the person next to him did.  He just took the
pressure off with the gift of fellatio or, in a more serious situation,
simply offered or accepted a rigid cock and the release of tension that
accompanied it.  To his amazement, the Count began to realize that this
approach was not restricted to the three of them, though it surely was
restricted to those who wanted to take part.  Remembering the Island of
Tears, Mike reminded himself that sex could be used as a hurtful weapon.

The next time that the Count had several old friends over for an evening of
cards provides something of a case in point.  Atypically, the Count began
the evening with a light meal.  Not too many minutes passed before his
friends noticed the new "living statues!"  (True, the pressure to stop
eating and go over and get a closer look did make finishing the meal a bit
difficult!)  When the guests unanimously agreed that they had never seen
more handsome young men, the Count couldn't help but smile, for he had
arranged for them to serve coffee in the library!  As a matter of fact,
they rather trumped the coffee when they appeared in their kynodesmes.
(Author's Note: The kynodesme is a thin leather strip, worn by tying it
tightly round the foreskin beyond the glans.  It can then be tied to the
base of the penis so that the penis appears to curl upwards or, if the
subject is more generously endowed - as were Mike and Larry - attached to a
waist band.  This was not only the jockstrap of classical times, but served
an aesthetic purpose as well.  Raising the balls slightly and holding the
penis upwards meant that the scrotum of the young athlete was fully exposed
and displayed, something seen as beautiful by the Greeks and others in the
ancient world.)  Naturally, the guests were absolutely mesmerized when Mike
and Larry sat on the arms of their heavy chairs and chatted with them in
English and German with a few words of Croatian!  At the card table, one of
the guests was so bold as to slide his hand over Mike's spectacular
buttocks.  When Mike grinned quietly before handing him his drink, no one
at the table could restrain a murmur of delight.  As one might guess, they
absolutely insisted that the boys be at the next card evening!

After the friends has left, the Count quickly spoke to Larry who was draped
over him as he sat in the largest chair in the library.  More accurately,
he reached over, nibbled on the boy's earlobe, and whispered, "You don't
have to entertain my guests sexually, you know."  "Yes, I know, Master,"
the boy said quietly, but anything that gives you pleasure gives pleasure
to Mike and to me."  Athletically, he swung his body over the Count and
slowly lowered himself onto his Master's erect cock.  For perhaps the third
time that evening, the two of them giggled and appeared to become one of
the rocking toys so beloved of the Victorians.  After their bodies had
ceased to quake from violent orgasms, the Count drew the dark-haired beauty
closer to him and began licking the salty sweat from his neck.  "I love
you, little one," he murmured.  "And you are my life, sire" Larry
responded.

After dinner that night, the Count explicitly relieved the boys of
responsibility for certain kinds of "entertainment," vowing that words
alone were not enough.  I would make up for this embarrassing lapse on the
part of my friends.  First, I met a man the other day whom I had not seen
for some years, years when I was active on Marshall Tito's Olympics
Committee.  Have you heard of Yevgeny Katunin?  "Katunin?" Mike sputtered.
"Only one of the top gymnastic coaches in the world!  Did you get to talk
with him?"  "Indeed I did," the Count responded.  "Cool!" both boys replied
enthusiastically.  "Yes, cool," the Count replied, "so cool that he's
agreed to stop by day after tomorrow for afternoon tea.  I understand that
he misses the game after several years away from it and would like to get
back in on a limited basis.  Were I you, I should try to persuade him to
become your personal coach."  The boys didn't know whether to shout, simply
to look at each other in shock, to throw themselves onto the Count, or
whatever.  Before bedtime, however, they did manage to convince him of
their gratitude.

"Two other things," the Master murmured as he made ready to depart the
library.  "You have been everything I have ever dreamt of.  I hope you will
join me tomorrow.  Perhaps we can enjoy the Adriatic together.  More
importantly, you should know that I lost all three of my sons in the
Croatian War of Independence against the Serbs.  It's not as if you could
ever replace them - or I, your fathers - but we could add great richness to
each other's lives.  Consider well the possibilities.  Finally, if you
wish, Michael, I wonder if you would occupy my bed tonight.  I am lonely
and would enjoy your presence.  After he had hugged Larry in an outer
hallway, the big blond joined the Master - or was it the pater familiis?

"When I was a young man at university," the Count said as he shed the last
of his clothes, "classic Greek sculpture was my great love.  Although he is
a little muscular, Larry probably looks most like most of the young Greek
athletes whom the ancient masters immortalized.  You, however, remind me of
one athlete, a somewhat larger youth, who was my favorite.  Like you, he
had a broad muscular chest and a heavily muscled back with prominent lats.
The broad chest with its heavy pecs and the muscular back narrowed slowly,
though his waist was that of a man and not a child.  (Slowly, sensually, he
lightly touched his lips to those parts of the lad that he was examining.)
The olive oil is softening your skin, Michael, but I can not imagine it
being more perfect.  Like the Greek athlete of my youth, your torso is
filled with so many muscles from the rib cage to below the navel that I
don't know if my lips can count them!  Mike giggled spontaneously.  Not
only did the attention please him, but he was also slightly ticklish.  The
Count grinned and continued.  "The glory of your perfect body, however,
lies below the navel.  The Count swiped his tongue in a broad circle around
the tanned, almost perfectly flat lower stomach of the beautiful
seventeen-year- old, trying to lift some flesh with his lips.  As Mike's
tight muscles defeated him, he laughed softly and tried again, only to fail
a second time.  The glory of your physique, however, my boy, lies in the
girdle you share with the god Apollo.  Again slowly, the powerful man's
tongue and lips traced the heavy line of cartilage that separated the boy's
imposing torso from his classic thighs.  "I wonder if any sculptor could
adequately represent this glorious flesh in marble - or, for that matter,
the powerful, muscular calves that support it," he murmured - "as I wonder
if your noble equipment could be recreated in ANY medium!"  His eyes
focused on the great pillar that quivered before his eyes, flushing,
pulsing, generating rivulets of crystalline liquid.  As he tried to swallow
without success, the boy's eyes focused on him as if hypnotized, begging...
wanting...needing.  "Please," his dried, cracked lips croaked, "please."
Like a snake striking, the man's hand went to the boy's throat in a cruel
motion that long predated modern man.  "You are mine, you know," the
powerful lord growled.  "Yes, I know and I accept," the young knight
hoarsely swore the ancient oath.  Turning him over with a practiced hand,
the lord crouched protectively over his subject, taking what was his.

(A New Beginning)

At breakfast, the Count mentioned that he was changing their bedroom into
his wing of the castle and suggested that they check out the larger room
when they were finished.  When the opened the door and deposited their
packs on the floor, their lower jaws just about followed.  Open doors to
two armoires disclosed that they were full of designer clothing; sports and
photographic equipment rested everywhere.  On the twin desks, the boys
found a variety of brochures (on subjects such as skiing in the Alps,
football championships, the Croatian Olympics Federation, and much more).
There was also a book that described university programs in both Croatia
and Germany.  The excited boys tried their very best to dress, but after
two years everything felt heavy and seemed to irritate their skin.  Rather
than take more time, they roared downstairs au naturel where they located
the Count on a terrace overlooking the wild, rocky coast.  "Sir!  Sir!
Sir!" the words spilled out of their mouths like lava from an erupting
volcano.  Holding them lovingly, he told them to calm themselves.  "I fully
understand that you are pleased and that you are grateful," he said.  "You
will remember that I said that the nature of our relationship was primarily
up to you.  I knew what I wanted, but you had to decide.  Over the last day
or two, I realized that you have decided.  You have made me happy beyond
all men.

"Now come with me.  I haven't used that speedboat of mine for several
years.  Though it's an older model, it may amuse you."  The boys were
rather walking on air as they trudged down to a small private dock and
boathouse.  That which they found had their eyes out on stalks akin to a
snail's.  That damned speedboat, one of the badest, meanest machines they
had ever seen, had to be 40' long!  When everyone was ready, the Count
settled himself in the cockpit where he flicked the ignition switch and hit
the starters.  Twin V-8s exploded into life with a deafening roar and then
settled into an idle aurally reminiscent of a funny car lined up at a drag
strip's Christmas tree.  "Can she move?" Mike yelled above the roar, in
part trying to be funny.  "Yes, indeed," the Count shouted.  "She'll hit 85
mph in 20 seconds and buzz along at well over 100 mph.  Will that do?"
(Author's Note: Thank you, Robert Farago, "Great Machines: Boats -
Sunseeker Portofino 35" in the "Robb Report" for 2003.) Their mouths open,
their eyes rolling, hanging onto each other lest they collapse, the boys
tried to adjust to a new world.


To Be Continued