Date: Wed, 31 Dec 2003 17:42:33 -0700
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "The Chosen One From Nongkhai: Part Five: Ginger" (m/b)

                       Part Five: Ginger

Lord Boroma Phanomyong, Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, Fierce Tiger of
the Jungle, Defender of the People, and Master Over all That Is, Was, and
Will Be was in high spirits the following evening. His meeting with the
merchants had gone particularly well. He could only contribute that to his
excellent frame of mind that morning, and that, he knew, was the result of
the evening before with the Chosen One. To top off what had been a perfect
day, the following morning he was meeting with his generals to map the
final strategy before attacking the Principality of Mythar to the
south. Planning miliary strategy was something the warrior-lord enjoyed
doing, and did well, so he was looking forward to the next day with great
anticipation.

The great Lord was looking forward to the evening with even greater
anticipation. There was no doubt in his mind that tonight he would be
enjoying the delight of wielding a different sword, for after the previous
night, there was no way in the Heavens above or the Hells below that the
boy could top the pleasure he had given him. So, he'd had a long bath and
changed into clean robes, choosing a powder blue silk robe embroidered with
delicate apple blossoms, and sent new apparel to the Chosen One for that
night, a pair of white silk pajamas and a creamy orange silk vest, both
which would set off his butterscotch skin. Tonight was the night he would
crack the boy's prune, and although he knew that would mark the beginning
of the end and that saddened him deeply, that was, after all, why the
Chosen One was selected.

They began their repast that night with pineapple slices topped with a
ground pork and peanut mixture, a new delicacy for the boy, and whose
boyish delight was so evident the Fierce Tigger of the Jungle had to
smile. He noted that often it is the simplest things that bring the
greatest joy, and for him, the smile of delight on a young boy's face as he
discovered a new delight was one of them. The pineapple slices were
followed by a lemony chicken soup, thick and creamy with coconut milk and
flavoured with ginger and coriander, green shrimp curry in a hot chilli and
ginger paste, which was one of Lord Phanomyong's favourite courses and
accompanied by boiled rice, fried rice noodles in a sweet pork sauce which
he had requested specially for the Chosen One, and sour fish balls. They
ate heartily, man and boy, and concluded their repast with slices of fresh
honeydew melon, sapodilla and rose apple.

"My Lord is feeling much better tonight," the boy remarked as they retired
directly to the bedchamber.

"Much," replied Lord Phanomyong. "My meeting with the merchants went well,
and tomorrow I will spend the day doing what I most enjoy doing."

"Then we will be spending the day in your bed tomorrow, my Lord?" the boy
asked, looking up at him with large, innocent eyes, but a second later his
lips curled with a suggestive leer and there was a hint of mischievous
humour in his dark brown eyes.

"There is that too," the warrior-lord laughed, "but what I was referring to
was the strategy meeting I have with my generals tomorrow. We are off to
war."

"Then I have just the oil for my Lord's massage this night," the boy
announced, his manner turning serious. "One that improves the circulation,
clears the head, increases one's mental alertness, and improves one's
memory."

"So you think you will once again use this strange new version of the Nuad
Bo-Rarn as practised at the Wat Pho in Settakorn to avoid having your
backside pierced by my sword of flesh," Lord Phanomyong observed with a
smile.

"My Lord," the Chosen One replied, bowing his head in respect, "I would
never deny my Lord the pleasure for which I have been Chosen. But," he
continued with the same wide, innocent eyes and coquettish smile as the
night before and the night before that, "if a boy could assist his master
in the performance of his duties, and at the same time provide his master
pleasure like he has never felt before, pleasure that would make slipping
his sword into the boy's sheaf the lesser pleasure, can that be a wicked
thing?"

Lord Phanomyong laughed loudly at the question that again could have but
one possible answer, and he wondered how many nights the young boy thought
he could top the erotic delight of the night before. "If the pleasure is
like nothing I have ever before experienced, Chosen One, then I swear I
shall leave the joy of sinking my shaft up your young, virgin portal for
yet another night," the great Lord promised, as he had the previous two
nights. "But this time you will surely fail," he said, looking at the boy
fondly, as a father might a son. There was also an edge of challenge in his
voice and in his eyes, along with a hint of sadness. For the Favoured Son
of the Great God Xiu to speak in such a manner to a servant boy must surely
have surprised even the Great God Xiu Himself.  "And, if you fail, you will
bend over and accept your destiny."

"If I shall fail, I will eagerly bend over and accept my destiny, my Lord,
for such is not only my sworn duty, but my ardent desire," the boy replied,
as he had the night before and the night before that, and like the nights
before, the sincerity and humility in his voice was reflected in his eyes,
and Lord Phanomyong knew the boy had spoken the truth.

Sending for the boy's wicker basket and scarves, he bade the boy remove his
new clothes so he might not stain them with oil. He sat there on the
massive bed and watched as the boy slipped the creamy orange silk vest off
and folding it neatly, turned to lay it on the foot stool by the bed.
Despite the fine food he had been eating, he was still slim, the energy and
metabolism of youth eating up the calories that in a man turns to solid
muscle and in an old man turns to lard. His boney shoulder blades poked
through his back like small wings, and Lord Phanomyong observed silently
that he was indeed an angel. With his back still to his Lord, the young boy
pushed down the fine white silk pajamas and then bent over to step out of
them. The sight of the boy's small, compact buttocks, like golden sundew
melons, caused the warrior-lord's member to quiver with desire, and for a
brief moment he reconsidered the oath he had made to the boy. His massive
body jiggled as he laughed silently. He was already admitting defeat and
the boy had not even begun!

Folding his pajamas and placing them on top of his vest, the boy turned and
walked back to his Lord, his tiny member, the size of the Lord's large toe,
bouncing above his tiny nut sack and below his smooth pubes. His privates
were the same delightful shade of golden-brown as the rest of his body, and
once again the Lord's member quivered with the thought of how silky smooth
his penis and nut sack must feel. With a smile of surprise, the Fierce
Tiger of the Jungle realized that he had not yet felt those delicate jewels
although the boy had already been with him for a third of the moon's
cycle. The anticipation of how they would feel caused his member to swell
still further.

The rattle of the hollow reeds outside his bedchamber announcing the
arrival of his personal attendant with the boy's wicker basket and scarves
interrupted his thoughts.  Ordering his attendant to slide open the
partition and to place the boy's things on the floor on the bedchamber side
of the raised sill, Lord Phanomyong waited for the ornate partition to
slide closed before sending the boy to retrieve them. As he watched the
slight boy quickly step over to the partition and bend over to pick up his
belongings, the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle again felt a pang of desire deep
in his groin, and as the boy turned and walked back toward the bed, the
Lord's one-eyed snake rose to watch him.

As he was about to turn the vials of the chronometer over, he was stopped
by the boy, who timidly said he would like to try a new position, one which
he was sure would heighten his master's pleasure, but being that they had
not used this position, he was not sure if his Lord could assume it the
first time. Lord Phanomyong knew that what the boy really meant was that he
was afraid the Favourite Son of Xiu might not be able to assume the
position at all. He was not a stupid man, and knew full well the toll that
age and the life of leisure had taken on his body.  Taking the boy's
comment as a challenge, he told the boy to explain this new position, upon
which the boy informed him he would have to first sit in the lotus
position.  Now that is a common way of sitting for many in the eastern
lands. It requires one to sit with his right foot on his left thigh and his
right knee firmly pressed downward. The left leg is then placed over the
bent right leg so the left foot rests on one's right thigh. It was a
position Lord Phanomyong often assumed, and had no difficulty with, and had
been the position in which he had been sitting the night he and the Chosen
One had shared their first meal together.

After his Lord had assumed the position, the boy had him lay on his back
with his legs still in the lotus position and his knees flat on the bed,
not an easy position for the rotund Lord but one which he managed to
achieve with the help of his elbows, and the support of the young boy. The
Chosen One then instructed the Favourite Son of Xiu to stretch his arms
down as far as he could toward his toes. Lord Phanomyong guessed what the
position really required and he strained, and almost succeeded, despite his
ponderous belly and having discontinued a rigorous exercise habit years
ago, in touching his toes.  Lying there on his back with his legs crossed
and knees pressed against the bed with the backs of this toes snug against
the inside crook of the knee of the opposite leg and his outstretched
fingers almost touching his toes, the great Lord inhaled and exhaled
slowly, trying not to reveal to his young servant child the exertion it had
taken to assume the position.

Using one of the scarves, the young boy bound his master's ankles together.
Tying one end of the second around the Lord's right wrist, he first looped
the scarf around the top of his right calf just below the knee and then
looped and tied the end around the top of his lower right thigh just above
his knee, pulling the loops tight and stretching his Lord's right hand
toward his left foot.  Similarly tying his left wrist to his left calf and
thigh, the boy requested that his master bend his head back as far as he
could, and looped the last scarf through his topknot and down underneath
him to the scarf binding his ankles. If the Lord tried to straighten his
legs, he would pull on his topknot, and if he tried to straighten his head,
he would pull his bent legs closer to his body.  Either would be painful.

"My mother's brother has told me this is known as the fish position, my
Lord, and is one of many stretching routines practised by religious men in
a jungle land not unlike our own far to the west."

"Hmmph," grunted the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle, "most likely by religious
men who measure their piety by the pain they can endure. This hardly seems
the position a man can expect to bring him erotic pleasure."

"The Sands of Time will tell, my Lord," the boy responded as he turned the
vials of the chronometer over. As the boy opened the third earthenware jar
from his basket, Lord Phanomyong recognized immediately the sharp, pungent
aroma of ginger.  Pouring a bit of the reddish-yellow oil in his palm, and
rubbing his palms together, the boy knelt at the foot of the bed, and as he
had that first night, began to massage his Lord's feet, whose soles in this
position, were facing upward in a most vulnerable position. Lord Phanomyong
made a mental note to himself to suggest this position to his generals
should they capture any prisoners of war in the upcoming campaign that
might need some encouragement to reveal the military secrets of their
country.

He then closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing the boy's deft fingers and
the penetrating oil to relax and to arouse him, though for a fleeting
moment, his mind observed that there was a fine line between the torture he
had envisioned and the pleasure the Chosen One had been providing him these
past two nights. As on that first evening, the boy's oiled thumb wormed its
way up and down his sole and across the underside of his toes of first one
foot and then the other, and again he felt the ripple of energy flow along
his Sen to his back and to his kidneys, to the cramped muscles of his
thighs, and to his groin. As the boy worked his magic, Lord Phanomyong felt
less and less discomfort in the twisted position he was in and his mind was
soon floating blissfully as peace and relaxation washed over him.

Then, slowly penetrating that fog of contentment, he became aware of rivers
of pleasure flowing along the energy lines from his soles to all points of
his body, and then gently turning and heading to his groin. Leaving his
feet, the boy began to work the reddish-yellow oil into his master's
chest. Beginning at his Lord's collar bone, he worked his fingers in small
but gradually widening concentric circles on opposite sides of the V-shaped
bone.  Gradually he worked across the expanse of his Lord's chest just
below his shoulders and toward his arms, and then back a bit lower toward
the centre of his chest. As he leaned over his master's massive form, his
warm, naked body slid across his master's oiled breasts, streaking his
naked body with the ginger oil.  His oiled butterscotch skin reflected the
flames of the candles placed about the bed, which in turn was reflected in
the large mirror.

As he began working back out, he reached his master's nipples. Rubbing
around them in tight, concentric circles, he massaged the warrior-lord's
fleshy breast just beyond the areola, making a complete circle around each
nipple before touching the sensitive buds. They burned with a pleasant itch
as his oiled fingertips lightly caressed them, and they quickly became firm
and swollen. Lying there with his arms tied to his legs and his topknot to
his ankles, the Great Lord had no choice but to lie there on his back and
allow the boy to caress his aroused nipples.  The pleasure rippling through
them flowed through the Sen connecting them to Lord Phanomyong's mind, and
to his groin, causing his member to once again begin to swell. As it did,
the boy continued on, caressing the remainder of his broad, fleshy breasts
until they glistened in the candlelight.

Again he lightly oiled his fingers and began to massage the warrior-lord's
most private parts, causing his member to quickly rise and throb with
desire, that desire accented by the nakedness of the boy and the touch of
his body as he sat on his heels beside his master and leaned over to cup
his large testicles. The fifth vial of sand began to drain as the boy
grasped his master's solid cock and began to slowly stroke it.

Lord Phanomyong closed his eyes and concentrated on the pleasure as the
young boy slowly began to polish his bamboo cane for the third night in a
row. In the position the boy had tied him, he could not see, but he could
picture the boy sitting there on his haunches on the bed beside him, his
wide, almond-shaped eyes staring at his hand slowly working up and down the
thick, pulsating cock in his fist, and his tongue squeezing out between his
tightly pressed lips as he concentrated on what he was doing.

Once again the boy brought him to that delightful peak but just as the Lord
was sure he was going to ejaculate, the boy quelled the urge, this time
with a sudden wrench of his knob which shot pain through its sensitized
rim. Waiting for pain and desire to subside, the boy began to slowly pump
his fist again and as the pleasure of that hot hand gripping his throbbing
member returned and as the boy's fingers gently and lightly brushed against
the sensitive rim of his glans, Lord Phanomyong greeted the building
arousal with mixed emotions. On the one hand, he took great delight in that
the young boy took such pleasure out of polishing his cane and he delighted
in the pulsating of his cock and the build up of tension in his loins once
again as the boy's hot little hand stroked his member. He dreaded, on the
other hand, what he knew was going to come, the sudden painful twist of his
knob to kill his desire so the boy would be able to repeat the process all
over again.

It was delightful, being brought to that peak over and over, but a man can
be pleased only so often that way before that pleasure becomes a torture,
and having been brought to that peak seven times the previous night before
being brought to orgasm, Lord Phanomyong was certain that tonight was the
night that pleasure was going to turn to pain, and the boy, despite his
good intentions, was going to fail. That eventuality he also greeted with
mixed emotions. It would mean that he would at last with a clear conscious
sink his pleasure pole up the tight backside of the virgin boy, a pleasure
that he'd delighted in with hundreds of Chosen Ones in the past, but one
which he'd never looked forward to with such desire as he did with the
present one. It would also mean that the boy could offer him no greater
pleasure, and he suspected just as his desire had never been so great
before, so would he tire more quickly of this boy than any before him.

As Lord Phanomyong felt himself approaching his point of orgasm for the
fourth time, he squirmed with the pleasure of the increasing pressure deep
in his groin and the pleasant burning of his glans. The boy was skilled at
delivering this pleasure, and knew just how much pressure to apply and just
how often to touch his sensitized knob. The warrior-lord squirmed with the
sensual delight, being careful not to pull down on his legs nor to raise
his head, for either one caused the silk scarf looped through his topknot
to pull on his scalp.  Instead he directed his energies to pushing down and
pulling up his arms, stretching them as far as he could in both directions
within the confines of the binding scarves. It was strange to channel his
energies thus, but it also added a different dimension to his arousal, and
the motion of his arms was not unlike the exercise demanded of them when he
lay above a boy and took his pleasure.  That thought caused a twitch deep
in his body, a twitch that announced the imminent release of his seed.

He tensed, preparing himself for the sudden wrenching of his engorged plum
and the replacing of his desire with pain. It had to happen any second
now. To his surprise the boy continued to slowly and rhythmically stroke
his cock and the pressure deep in his groin continued to build. He inhaled
the ginger-scented air deeply as he felt his orgasm about to begin.
Suddenly the boy jabbed the pressure point under his balls, and while his
body was racked with the pleasure of orgasm, it was the pleasure of a dry
climax. His immediate reaction was to straighten his legs and raise his
head, both of which pulled the silk scarf connecting his ankles and his
topknot tighter, which resulted in his scalp feeling like his topknot was
being ripped from it, and which in truth, it was. He immediately threw his
head back and drew his legs even tighter toward his body, relieving him of
the pain.

Keeping his legs drawn up, he inhaled sharply with a mixture of feelings.
The intense pleasure in the pit of his groin rippled through it and up his
throbbing member. His body shook with ecstasy as wave after wave crashed
through his body. His dry climax was a delight, but he was disappointed
that the boy had been unable to prevent it from happening for at least a
few more cycles. The previous night the boy had brought him to that peak
seven times before allowing him to climax.  This night he had brought him
to that peak only four times.  There could be no question the boy had
failed to bring him greater pleasure than he had the evening before, and
now the boy was his. It was a strange feeling, because along with his
sadness for the boy, and the sadness for himself, was the anticipation of
now enjoying the depths of the boy's body, as he had intended to enjoy the
boy all along. It was with those conflicting thoughts that he slowly began
to descend from that peak of ecstasy that only a man can know.

Before his member began to droop, however, he felt the boy slip his fist
about it and begin to stroke it once again. The glans, now extra sensitive,
immediately began to burn with irritation and Lord Phanomyong realized that
just because the boy had brought him to a dry orgasm, the Chosen One was
not yet finished with him. The rim of his sensitive knob stung as if the
boy's fingers were leaves of nettle and the eye winked open and closed as
it ached to feel the ejaculation of his seed. He concentrated on the
pleasure and all too soon the mighty warrior felt the tension in his groin
build to the moment of release once again, but he knew the boy was not
going to allow him the pleasure. As the boy released his organ and allowed
it to jerk wildly in the air in a futile attempt to entice the eggs below
to constrict and squirt out their juice, Lord Phanomyong cursed him and
ordered him to finish the job.

The Chosen One knelt there again as if struck deaf and dumb, and wisely
chose not to make eye contact with his master, for if he had, he would have
been unable to ignore the man's pleas. It took a long time for the Fierce
Tiger of the Jungle to calm down, but he did, and by then his member had
ceased to ache. So, the boy reached out, and slowly and deftly began to
gently stroke the thick, firm staff once again, sending that sweet pain
through the irritated knob and causing the warrior-lord to squirm and gasp
as once again he was brought to that peak, that moment before the small
death, only to have his snake choked still again and the urge quelled for
the sixth time.

It took much longer for the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle to regain his
breath.  As his irritated cock throbbed with arousal and pain, he did not
know whether to curse or to praise the boy sitting there beside him and
staring at his upright organ as if hypnotized by it. In a way, that one
eyed cobra was hypnotic, and as Lord Phanomyong lay there on his back with
his massive cock aimed at the ceiling and feeling more swollen than it ever
had before, he recalled that one of his early delights years ago when he'd
instituted the boy tithe was seeing the awe in a young boy's eyes upon
first seeing his mighty organ, and the awe and delight the young boy took
in being the one responsible for producing his seed those initial times.

So, as the dark-haired boy reached over and began to stroke his massive
cock again and the erotic pleasure of his stroking rippled through his
erect flesh, Lord Phanomyong sighed with not just his delight, but with
being able to share in the delight of the boy who was experiencing this new
and wonderful joy. As the warrior-lord's breath became deep and laboured,
he wondered which was the greater pleasure, his approaching climax, or the
sense of accomplishment that filled a young boy's heart and the wondrous
awe of fondling a grown man's cock and bringing him that sweet pleasure
known only to men and gods. It was no wonder that the boy wanted to bring
him to that peak over and over again, and realizing that, the warrior-lord
delighted even more in the pangs of arousal rippling through his thick
shaft as the pressure developed deep in his groin once again.

As the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle approached that crucial point for the
third time since his dry orgasm, the boy continued to stroke the engorged
organ, and again as he felt the skin of the warrior-lord's swollen member
tighten and the pulse of the thick blue vein that runs up the underside of
his cock quicken, he immediately jabbed his finger against the pressure
point under his nut sac, and as the man heaved up and grunted in
expectation of the release of his seed, he instead quivered with his second
dry orgasm, the only type of orgasm the boy knew, and which he had been
enjoying in the privacy of his chamber since his arrival at the palace as
he thought of these evenings playing with his master's long, fat member and
the pleasure he brought him.

As the boy continued to press against that nerve, the mighty warrior heaved
and his thick arms and legs bulged so that one would expect the silk
scarves to be rendered. He grunted and snorted as the tremors of orgasm
passed over his body and the joy of the release of his seed was denied him
again. He gasped and cried out with that pleasure that was not a pleasure
as ripple after ripple of orgasm ripped through his blood-red plum and the
opening closed and dilated in desperation as the mighty warrior-lord drew
his legs in tight toward him and pushed down with his arms with all his
strength.

Six vials of the sands of time had once again drained, and it took the
seventh before the great Lord's breathing had returned to normal. As he lay
there, he first silently fumed at the boy for causing him such torture, and
then silently praised him for such skill as to make him cry out like a
banshee with pain, or a concubine with ecstasy. His praise was as unjust as
his anger, for the boy was only doing what he had been chosen to do, to
please his master, and when a reasonable man considered what had happened,
that was all that he had done. That was what Lord Boroma Phanomyong,
Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, Fierce Tiger of the Jungle, Defender of
the People, and Master Over all That Is, Was, and Will Be concluded as the
eighth and final vial began to drain.

Long after the Chosen One had left for his own bed, the mighty-warrior lord
was still awake. He smelled of ginger, and of boy, and he felt more alert
than he had for years.  Getting to his feet and putting on his robe, he
headed for the shrine of Xiu, and there he prayed for success in the
upcoming campaign, and he thanked the Great God for the gift of the Chosen
One from Nongkhai.

Next: Part Six: Eucalyptus