Date: Sat, 20 Dec 2008 12:14:26 -0500
From: M Patroclus <thephallocrat@gmail.com>
Subject: The Exile, Chapter 1

The Exile
A Gay Fantasy Experiment

** Disclaimer: The following work contains mature themes and graphic
depictions of sex between men. If this offends you, don't read it. It is
also unabashedly nerdy. You've been warned. **

Chapter One-

The town was oppressively quiet and somber, all trace of festivity and
mirth gone as though it had never been. Doors and windows were shut and
barred; by the laws of our people, nobody could watch me go. When morning
came, it would be as if I had perished in the night, my existence as
extinguished and forgotten as the ceremonial bonfire which now sat
smoldering and ignored in the grand square. I would be dead to them - and
for a moment the darkness and the unnatural quiet seemed so overwhelming
and alien that I wondered if I wasn't dead in truth. And yet now I think
the reality was quite the opposite. Rather than having died, I had not yet
even begun to live; for this reason I have chosen to begin my tale here,
with that cold, miserable night and the first few steps I took away from
the village I had known since birth and began my journey as an exile.

I pulled the hood of my tattered and thin cloak over my newly shaven head
and took my first steps. In the dark the giant trees of our forest that had
always seemed like kindly guardians watching over my home now loomed like
solemn and unfathomable warriors, sentries watching with unfriendly faces.
Never before had I traveled more than an hour's walk from our home, and
knew only vaguely what lay beyond. Now as the faint shapes and lights of
the town faded into darkness behind me, I pondered which direction I should
travel. I had no place to go, and therefore any direction was as pointless
as any other; but, being all equal, I found it difficult to choose among
them. At last, however, I felt a warm, comforting wind blowing at me from
the north that contrasted sharply with the chill in the air. I felt a
sudden desire to find the source of this warmth and found my feet leading
me from whence it came.

Certain scholars insist, as I have since read, that all great phenomena are
the result of the combination of many tiny, apparently insignificant events
- and that if but one of these minutiae were even subtly different, the end
of the whole would be vastly changed. It is so for great storms, or the
formation of mountains, or even the fates of men. It is so with me, and
never more obvious than here, at the very beginning of my tale. If I had
ignored the wind, or been lost in thought and insensible to it, or found
some other excuse to travel another way, I cannot say what may have
happened to me. Perhaps I would have been happier, or perhaps, too, I could
have found a tragic end. When I ponder the significance of that seemingly
unimportant decision, it is enough to make me wonder if such coincidences
are but one of the many manifestations of Omnipotence.

And so I headed north. After a few hours when I could not bring myself to
take another step, I lay at the foot of one of the mighty trees and tried
to bury myself under some of its fallen leaves for warmth, to little
effect. I slept fitfully, flitting in and out of sleep and facing restless
and anxious dreams. In several, I faced again the trials of the day. Again,
I stood before my intended bride, both of us naked and perfumed, and found
no magic in me. Again I kneeled in disgrace before my father and heard his
words of rebuke. Again I faced my sentence and the crowd of disappointed,
menacing faces. The mob tore and cut and shaved the hair from my body, and
then brought a sharp knife with which to cut my manhood from me. At this I
awoke with a start, and felt for my groin with irrational dread, but I was
as whole there as I had been the day before. Nightmares summoned by
baseless fears; the law forbids such mutilations of the sacred organs even
to one such as me. Calmed, I fell again into sleep.

I found myself in a very different dream. I sat in a circular room carved
out of smooth stone, with no apparent entrance or exit. On one side of the
room sat an elegant round stone pedestal. On this sat a small cube, no
bigger than my palm, which seemed to give off a gentle and entrancing
light. As I approached it, it seemed I heard a faint and distant voice
pleading for help in words too faint to be fully understood. Compelled by a
power I could not explain, I reached out to touch it.

When my fingers were a hair's breath away, I felt a jarring pain in my side
and the dream vanished. As I snapped back into the waking world, the pain
returned again, more insistent. It was several moments before I realized I
was being kicked.

"Eh!" said a coarse and unpleasant voice, "What have we here! It's alive,
Bert!"

"What is it?" came a reply some distance away, "Can we eat it?"

I scrambled to my knees and tensed, expecting further blows. The first man
cackled. "Not good eatin' this one, I s'pect."

"He's one of them forest folk, to be sure," said Bert, who was close enough
now for me to make out his shape. "Aren't you?"

My heart was beating and I was wondering if I could outrun them, so I did
not respond.

"A guard, maybe?" asked the first man, suspiciously, "There could be more
of `em."

"Don't be a damn fool, Errold," said Bert disdainfully, "You and I both
know these tombs' long deserted."

As quickly as I could, I spun my legs out from under me in a circle, as I
had practiced many times, and knocked the first man, Errold, onto his
back. I made a break for it then, running in a direction away from the two
shapes. I had only gone a few steps however before I ran into something
large and hard (not a tree, I could tell at once) and fell back, my breath
gone from me.

"Better watch where you're going in the dark, my friend," said Errold, his
throaty laugh echoing through the night as he got back to his feet. The
black shape that had knocked me to the ground now loomed over me, and in
the faint moonlight I could see the outlines of an improbably large face.

"Let's head back to the cave," said Bert irritably, "We`ll check the other
traps tomorrow- it's too damn cold."

"Bring him, Gol," Errold commanded, and the big shape reached down to me
with monstrous arms and lifted me like I was no more than a babe. I wanted
to struggle, but such was the strength of the creature that held me that I
knew at once it would be useless.

"Hold on to him tight now, Gol. They's clever fighters."

We walked some length of time in quiet through the trees, all the while my
mind racing with thoughts of escape. I did not know was intended for me,
and I devised all kinds of horrors that might be waiting for me at the
hands of these cruel sounding men and their pet monstrosity. I had known
that outside our village I would face perils, but I had not expected to
encounter any quite so quickly. I cursed myself for not taking more
precautions.

At length we reached a steep rocky hill that rose up to break above the
tops of the giant trees. Errold led us to a slight opening at the base of
the hill that opened up into a modest-sized cave. Inside were a number of
packs of supplies, and a small ring of stones containing a rapidly
diminishing fire. Bert threw some logs onto it from a neatly piled stack in
the corner, and now I could see for the first time that he was carrying the
corpses of what appeared to be two rabbits. He and Errold set about
cleaning and preparing them. The two men looked quite young, had perhaps
seen a handful of summers more than me, and were dressed in dirty,
well-worn clothes.

"Set him down there, Gol," Errold told the creature, "And go guard the
entrance."

I was deposited casually on the ground, and the giant lumbered out of the
cave obediently. From the ground his size seemed even more impressive. I
was one of the tallest men in my village, but it was half again as tall as
I, and easily twice as wide. After it was gone, I continued to stare at the
large footprint that he had left in the dirt in amazement.

"Bet you never seen the likes of him before, has ya?" Errold laughed. I
shook my head. "The big folks are from up east, in the mountains. Gol --
Golmeir's his name -- is a little one by their reckoning. The biggest could
use you for a toothpick, boy."

"What's your name?" Bert asked suddenly, not looking up from his work with
the rabbits.

I decided it could do no harm to tell him. I cleared my throat, worrying
that my voice would break when I spoke - I did not want to show them any
sign of fear. "Markis," I managed.

"You from the village of the forest people, right?" he said, and it was not
really a question. I merely nodded. "And what are you doing out here?"

"You ain't guarding the tombs, is ya?" interjected Errold suddenly.

"I know of no tombs," I said, "I've never been this far from the village
until now."

Bert glared at his companion. "I told you. They don't even know what's
under their own noses."

"You've got no hair," Errold observed, "Look, Bert! Hasn't even got
eyebrows. Is all you folk like that?"

"None except the disgraced." There were questions in their looks, questions
I did not want to answer. "I am an exile," I said simply, "An outcast." It
was the first time I had spoken it aloud, and I felt a hallow pain deep in
my bowels.

"So you won't be going to warn your brothers that we are here in their
territory, then," said Bert.

I shook my head. "They care little what happens outside the village. You
are in no danger. Please, let me go."

"Do you believe him?" Errold said, but Bert just shrugged.

"It doesn't matter. Can't risk it. We keep him with us for now."

"And then?"

Bert looked at his partner pointedly. "We will deal with that when the time
comes."

I searched about in desperation. I carried no weapon (my blade - the symbol
of my manhood - had been taken from me; I longed for it now) but that did
not mean I was entirely defenseless. My people had taught the art of combat
without arms for hundreds of years. Bert and Errold, however, had long
daggers at their belts that could almost be called swords, and, more
pressingly, a large friend covering the only means of escape. I would have
to wait for my chance, and show no mercy when I had it.

The rabbits were cooked, and the two men began to eat greedily. The smell
of the meat reminded me I had had nothing since the feast. My stomach began
to ache for food but they did not seem inclined to share. Indeed, when the
giant caught wind of the meat and entered hopefully, they cursed it and
sent it back out again. It was clear that the creature (Golmeir -- it was
strange to think it had a name) was no more than a slave to them, and I
wondered why it obeyed when it could have overpowered both of them easily.

"You know nothing of the Anatherians, boy?" asked Bert, licking his lips
and seeking for the last few bites of meat on the bone in his hands. I did
not know the name he spoke, and I told him so.

"You should," said Errold, "They's your ancestors and all."

"It's true - your village is all that remains of a once mighty
empire. Don't you even know your own history?"

I could recount the names of our High Priests back one hundred generations,
but I knew nothing of an empire.

"Anatheria covered all the lands in these woods, and a great more
besides. This was long ago, of course. See, the Anatherians liked to bury
their dead in underground tombs, and they loved to bury `em with the riches
they had gathered in life. That's where we come in."

"Your ancestors will make our fortune," cackled Errold, "The dead don't
need no gold."

"Right you are," said Bert, happily, "Think of it... all that treasure,
waiting hundreds of years for you and me to dig it up, eh, Errold?"

"Surely these tombs were pillaged long ago," I said.

"Most of them, to be sure," said Bert, "But not the one we go to
tonight. It's hidden. But we got ourselves a map!"

Errold triumphantly produced a faded and rather ancient piece of parchment
which he carefully unrolled to show it off to me. There were plenty of
unintelligible drawings on it, which I could make no sense of, but most
shockingly (and it was shocking indeed - so much so that for a moment I
thought I was still in a dream) the entire parchment was covered in
writing, a language I recognized only too well. I had not thought to see it
again outside the temple of our village.

Bert saw the shock on my face, and must have taken it for confusion of a
different sort. "It's in the ancient tongue of the Anatherians," he
explained, "We`ve been given a translation, here. It gives us complete
instruction on how to find the tomb of one of their leaders - royal blood!"

"Why do you bother with me?" I asked, "My people have no knowledge of
this. I will not try to warn them, nor could I if I desired it. The way
back to them is barred from me. Let me free, and I shall never speak of
this, I swear."

Bert patted me on the head and smiled. "You're going to help us, boy. We
need another strong back and a pair of eyes. Do your part well and we may
let you go free after."

"You make any trouble, you'll be Gol's breakfast in the morning. He's
hungry, make no mistake," warned Errold.

Having no choice, I nodded. I did not believe they would release me, but I
had to make them believe that I did - else they would never let down their
guard.

They had scouted the position of the tomb's entrance the night previous,
for they only worked in darkness for fear of discovery by my people. I
found their precautions peculiar -- as I had tried to tell them, they would
find no opposition to their plundering from my village, who valued nothing
save our traditions and held nothing sacred save the magics of our Priests
and the ancient relics that rested in the temple. The owners of these tombs
and the treasures they hid there meant nothing to them, ancestors or
otherwise. All this I considered while being led to the entrance of the
tomb. Bert kept his dagger pointed at my back, ready to strike, while
Errold tended to Gol, who carried empty bags and tools suited to their
task.

"Once we're in, grab anything you see that will fit in our sacks," Bert
instructed me, "Unless you find a sword in a silver sheathe. Leave that to
me."

"How does Errold feel about you claiming such a prize for yourself?" I
asked. Strife between them would only do me good.

"The sword is not for me," Bert said, poking me gently with the tip of his
dagger, "It's been claimed by another." He said no more, and I felt I would
learn nothing by pushing the matter further.

At last we found it in small clearing, a strange stone shaped into a circle
with a hole in the middle. It was eroded and crumbling, and the top had
collapsed years ago. Bert commanded Gol to hold on to me, which it did
quite tightly, as he fumbled to look at the map and its translation in the
moonlight.

"{Seek we to enter, though unworthy.}" Bert said. He spoke, broken and
badly, in the Sacred Tongue of our people, which none but the Priests and
their acolytes may speak. I recognized the text as a passage from our holy
rites, which I had studied since a boy. Hearing it profaned by this foul,
ignorant man filled me with indignation and rage. I strained forward,
wanting with all my heart to strike, but Gol held me ever firmer.

The men did not seem to notice my fury. They stared fixedly at the stone,
waiting, but nothing happened.

"What's wrong?" Errold asked, "You said it would work!"

"Hold on, hold on," Bert said, "Maybe I didn't read it right."

"You said it would work, Bert! You said you knew what you was doing!"

Bert snarled at his companion. "Just give me a second!"

I had calmed enough to think clearly, and I saw my chance. "Let me," I
said.

"You?"

"I know this language that you speak. You aren't pronouncing the words
correctly. Tell your pet to release me and I will do it."

Bert and Errold exchanged suspicious glances. They did not trust me, but
they were stupid, violent, greedy men. Their lust for the gold below was
strong and I knew they would relent.

Gol let go and I took a few steps forward to the stone. I would be
violating the statutes of my people and my order by speaking the tongue in
front of these outsiders, but I reminded myself bitterly that I was no
longer a part of either and could not be punished further than I had
already. I would have no other chance. I took a deep breath and spoke aloud
in the voice I had used daily in our ceremonies, low and resounding and
authoritative.

"{Seek we to enter, though unworthy.}" My command of the language is
flawless. I was once the pride of my teachers.

At once the stone sprang to life, moving by unseen forces to slide to the
side, revealing a dark passageway below. Errold moved close to my side for
a better look. He was totally entranced by the sight of the moving stone;
he made an easy target. There are places on the body that, manipulated in
such a way, easily render a man helpless. A child of my village could have
done it. He collapsed before he knew what had happened. I turned swiftly,
hearing Bert close in, and narrowly ducked a slash of his weapon. I brought
my hands up quickly, striking under his jaw with an upward thrust, and he
staggered back in pain. By the time he could think to look for me, I had
disappeared into the tomb.

I had not gone far when I heard the noise of pursuit behind me. Though I
had acted quickly and efficiently, I had throughout been filled with fear
that Gol would intervene. Now I thought for a moment it had followed me
into the tomb, but the footsteps and shallow breaths told me it was
Bert. The tomb was dark, and I had nothing to light my way, so I ran
blindly into the dark, feeling my way with my hands and fearing unseen
dangers. There was a nauseating, ancient, rotten smell to the place that
added to my anxiety. I soon found myself in a dead end. Try as I may I
could not feel an exit to the room save the one where I had come in, and I
could not backtrack without running into my pursuer.

"I know you are here, boy," came Bert's cold voice, filled with venom. "I
know you think you might be clever, but when I find you, I promise I'll
make you regret this."

I pressed my back against the cold stone wall and held my breath, knowing
he was listening for any sound. He stopped, and I could hear him fumbling
about his bag, and then the tapping of flint against steel. I rocked
forward onto the balls of my feet, ready, knowing I would only have one
chance.

Bert's torch flared to life, and I had him. He flinched in the light, and I
closed the space between us in a breath, leaping onto him and knocking him
down. His dagger skidded across the ground and, struggling to overpower
him, I tried to reach for it with one hand. This he prevented by grabbing
my wrist and pinning it to the ground while his other hand sought my
throat. The torch, dropped and abandoned, sputtered out and we wrestled in
the dark. I am quick, but Bert outmatched me in strength. I found myself
quickly tiring, and knowing that soon he would gain the
advantage. Twisting, he managed to roll over on top of me, pinning one arm
behind my back. With the other I cast about for the dagger wildly,
desperately, until I found it at last. I brought it with all my remaining
strength into his back, and as he twisted in pain I pulled it out again and
drew it across his throat.

For a while I sat in the dark, breathing heavily and feeling the pounding
of my heart resound in every corner of my body. Though I had studied combat
since my youth, I had never fought for my life, and I had never killed a
man. I felt relieved to have won, and yet sickened. At once the
tribulations of the day washed over me - my failure in the ceremony, my
feeble pleading to the Elders, my sentence of exile, and the terror of
being accosted in the night. I felt nauseous, dizzy, overwhelmed. I wished
with all my heart that I would wake up and find this all to be a terrible
dream. My stomach heaved, but there was nothing in me to vomit up. I leaned
heavily against the cool stone of the tomb, afraid my legs could not bear
me.

At last I seemed to return to myself and I searched the dark room for the
torch, then Bert's body for his flint. With the help of the light, I
claimed the ancient map and a few coins from the corpse's pocket. I had a
vague plan to find some dark corner of the tomb to hide in until morning,
with the hope of finding some other exit that would let me avoid running
into Errold and his giant. The map was faded and complicated, and I was
unsure, having ran so far inside in the dark, of my bearings, so I made my
best guess and went to exploring. I found many rooms filled with the kind
of trinkets that no doubt Bert had hoped to make his fortune on, but which
held little interest to me. I was so weary that my eyes grew blurry and I
stumbled about like a drunken man.

The tombs were more extensive than I would have thought possible and with
growing anxiety I began to feel that I was lost. A dark gloom fell over me,
and for the only time in my life I contemplated how easy it would be to end
my misery with the quick swipe of a dagger. If any circumstances could have
driven me to such extremes, it would certainly have been this. Never since
have I felt so hopeless and miserable. At any rate, there was no further
time to deliberate on such dark thoughts, for suddenly the ground rocked
beneath me and the stone under my feet crumbled away. I fell into darkness,
thinking my hour had come.

The drop was only a few feet, however, and despite a few scrapes and
bruises I was relatively unharmed. The torch had been extinguished again in
the fall, but I found to my surprise that I did not need it. The room into
which I had fell was lit already by a fait, pale light. As the dust cleared
and I recovered from the shock, I began to feel an eerie sense of
recognition. I had been in this room before, I felt, and yet that was
impossible. I cast about in my memory until I had it, and then I was filled
with wonder and dread.

It was the room from my dream, that strange dream that had so entranced me
up until the moment I had been roused by the blows from Errold's boot. It
was exactly the same to the last detail - the circular stone walls, the low
ceiling, the stone pedestal, all as I remembered. The light in the room was
emanating from the small cube that had so fascinated me in the dream, and
consumed my curiosity now. So stunned and confused was I by this turn of
events (too staggeringly improbable to be coincidence) that I could not
move and did not know what to think.

{Rise, son of Anather, and come to me.}

The voice seemed to echo in the chamber and inside my head, speaking the
Sacred Tongue in soaring, graceful tones.

"Who's there?" I asked, and then in the Tongue: "{What are you?}"

{I am whatever you wish me to be.}

I stood warily, and took a few cautious steps towards the strange
cube. "{What do you want of me?}"

{Only to serve you, Master. Release me, Priest, and I will be your willing
slave.}

"{You know me?}"

{I felt you as you slumbered above and called out to you. Free me and give
me life again, Master.}

"{I have no need of servants,}" I said.

I heard no laughter, but I felt joy in the silent voice. {But you do, you
do! I can lead you from this place and protect you from enemies! Return me
to my former glory and I will work wonders for you.}

I felt uneasy and unsure. I had heard tales of men making bargains with
unseen powers, receiving blessings and gifts but always at terrible cost.

"{And what will you require of me for your help?}"

{Only that you feed me, Master. Give me but a few drops of your life.}

I could only puzzle at what this meant.

{Your body is an ocean in which flow many waters, each a spring of the
divine life that is within you , life that you may condescend to offer me,
your humble servant, that I may have power to aid you.}

"{How?}"

{The power I require to break my prison walls after so long is great, and
the power to regain my former glory greater still. But the divine life is
strong in you, Master. But a few drops of the life that flows through your
heart and you will see your servant face to face.}

"{I am not sure,}" I managed to say.

{Do you not need a friend?}

I was lonely and afraid, as I have already made plain. Perhaps I should not
have been so easily persuaded by such airy promises, but the thought of
companionship of any kind in that dark and rotten tomb was a blessing to
me, and in the end this decided me. With trembling hands I took Bert's
dagger and pricked the tip of my forefinger. The voice murmured in pleased
anticipation. For a second I hesitated, fearing to act rashly, but it was
already begun. I squeezed a few drops of my blood onto the cube.

At once the cube dissolved before my eyes, and its light faded. The voice,
once shapeless and seeming to originate from everywhere and nowhere at
once, was now quite audible and apparently right behind my ear.

"{My liege and lord! My Master! You have my eternal gratitude, I am bound
to you.}"

"{Where are you?}" I asked, looking about in the dark vainly.

"{I have no shape but that which you give me, Master. Let me enter in your
mind, briefly, and know you - then I will have power to become that which
you most desire and you shall see me.}"

"{Do it, then.}"

I cannot rightly describe in words what happened next. Only this can I say:
afterwards, I had some suspicion of what a woman felt when her body was
entered into by a man -- and indeed, when first I too was entered, the
sensation was not altogether unfamiliar to me. A foreign presence was
inside me, inside my mind. It was a violation, and yet not unpleasant. I
inhaled deeply, and by the time I had released the breath it was finished.

"I am here, Master," came a soft voice. It used modern speech, but was
instantly recognizable. "Light your torch, and let us see my new form."

"You speak my language," I said.

"I learned it from your mind, though I do not know how. Do not worry, I saw
nothing there - I am not a telepath, to read and interpret your thoughts. I
can only mold myself to them blindly. Come, look upon me."

"What will you look like?"

"You know already, Master, not I," the voice seemed to smile, "It will be a
surprise to me. I have had many forms in the past - often women so
beautiful that men grew faint to look upon them - but always shaped by the
longings and the desires of the men I served."

I feared I knew, then, and in shame I did not wish to see. "I forbid
it. Take some other shape."

"What other shape would my Lord wish save that which most would please him?
Besides, I have not yet regained the strength to alter my form. I promise
you will find only that which you desire."

"My desires are abomination," I said simply, "I beg you, do not show me."

"Light the torch, Master," there was gentle reproof and love in its voice,
"Light, and face yourself."

I fumbled with the flint, but at last it sprung to life. My eyes flinched
in the light, but as they adjusted I could make out another presence in the
room.

Before me stood a naked young man. His blondish hair was disheveled and
messy, and he stared back at me with cold blue eyes. His skin was smooth
and flawless, his frame lean and muscular. In every aspect he was perfect,
the incarnation of all my hidden fantasies. He looked down at his body in
surprise, a small smile on his face. With his fingers he explored the light
hairs on his chest, the thick ones at his crotch, and, at last, the final
proof of his masculinity which hung heavily between his thighs.

"I see," he said at last.

I could hold back no longer. I wept as I had not done in many years, deep
wrenching sobs of misery and, somehow, relief. I had never spoken of my
deepest desires, had scarcely even acknowledged them to myself. I had not
even confessed them to the Elders at my judgment, despite my certain dread
that they had been at the heart of my failure. Somehow, however, I feared
that my father had suspected the truth. It was why I had felt that I had
deserved banishment and worse, and had gone with little protestation. To
have my darkest secret laid before me now so plainly was excruciating and
wonderful. I wept for it, for my exile, for my friends and loved ones never
to be seen again, for the man I had killed, and for myself, now lost in the
unknown world.

"Look on me," the young man said gently, for I had turned my face away, "Am
I so repulsive to you?"

I could not help but confess the truth. "I had not thought such beauty was
possible."

He smiled knowingly. "The beauty you see is your own."

His hands were on me then, stroking the flesh of my bare head gently,
sending waves of comfort down my neck and back. I dried my eyes, wanting
him to stop, longing for him to go on. His strong but gentle hands took the
torch from me and began to remove my cloak.

"Stop," I muttered, offering only feeble resistance.

"Our work is not done, Master," he said lightly into my ear. His voice was
like one of our temple drums, warm and noble in its vibration. "I require
more gifts from you if I am to help you."

"More blood?"

"The waters of the body all hold the divine life, as I have said, but not
equally. The waters of your heart are strong, but to feed on that alone I
would require much and require it often, killing you. Happily, there are
others, stronger still, that will not harm you in the giving."

"What are the other waters?" I asked nervously. His hands were exploring my
body, and while I made no move to stop them I was not yet at ease.

"There are many. The weakest is that which is waste to you, and the most
potent that which can create life. You know of what I speak?" He kissed my
neck gently, as one might kiss the forehead of a babe, sending a shiver of
delight down my spine.

I nodded, having now some expectation of what was to come and quickly
losing the will to resist it.

"I have always thought it strange," he said, his hands exploring ever
lower, "that by the design of the Creator the weakest and the strongest,
the foulest and the most pure of all the male's waters should come from the
same organ." His hands tightened on my groin.

"It is the shadow of a greater truth," I ventured, dizzy with pleasure, "In
every man there is evil and good, wretchedness and nobility co-existing."

"You speak with wisdom, Priest," he said, removing my belt deftly and
pushing down my trousers and smallclothes.

In the light of the torch I could see my nakedness, now fully exposed. By
law, all the hair had been removed from my body, from every place, so that
now I saw only smooth bare skin. It seemed unmanly and, though I strained
with desire at my full size, I felt like a child.

"I am a Priest no longer," I protested.

He took me in his hand, and I jumped at the pleasure of it. "You cannot
change what you are, Master, " he said, kneeling and smiling at me with his
perfect eyes, "only what you may become."

The time for words had ended, for he wrapped his lips around my organ and
took it fully into his mouth. I, a stranger to all the arts of physical
love, threw my head back in surprise and let out a passionate cry. My hands
reached for him, one running through his hair, the other caressing a
muscled shoulder. Sensations approached too quickly for me to comprehend
and process them, as he moved his tongue and lips expertly along my
shaft. My mouth hung open, and I stared in shock at the stone ceiling, at
the hole through which I had fallen.

So great was my desire and so intense were his movements that all too
quickly I felt myself unable to stand his attention much longer without
losing myself. At this very moment he stopped and looked up at me.

"What is your name, Master?"

"Markis. And yours?"

"As it pleases you," he said, "My true name cannot be spoken."

"I shall have to think on it, then," I said, and he grinned. His smile was
so appealing that I could not help but kneel and kiss him, while we
continued to stroke each other. His tongue caressed mine, our hands picked
up speed, and our bodies strained with greater urgency.

I pulled away from the kiss with great effort. "My time approaches," I
warned.

"Thank you for this gift, Master," he said.

"And you?"

"You are kind. I will share your pleasure, for we are bound now as one."

He returned me to his mouth and began his work in earnest. His hands roamed
my body freely, and I at last found myself relaxing fully. Tension I had
not known I had was melting from me, and I knew I could not endure a second
longer.

With a great cry that seemed to shake the entire tomb, I released and shook
with pleasure. He swallowed every drop of my seed greedily, hungrily, his
body shaking in time with my own. There was an instant change in him. His
skin, already so perfect and inviting, grew ever more beautiful and seemed
to radiate with an invisible power. When at last I had emptied myself
completely, he pulled apart and stood before me bathed in glory, like a
heavenly messenger. I stared at him with a mixture of awe and fear.

"I shall call you Damon," I said, choosing the name of an angel from the
holy texts.

It was only later, when I had woken briefly from a peaceful slumber and
found us intertwined and naked on the cold stone floor, that I realized
with some inexplicable anxiety how closely the name I had bestowed upon him
resembled the word demon.

** Questions, Comments, Feedback? Want to shoot the breeze? Feel free to
e-mail me at thephallocrat@gmail.com. This is a new experience for me, and
I'd love to get some responses from readers. **