by A. C. Ellas
“Can you train to this level?” asked Virien. He sighed in bliss as Rak’s tongue wrapped around his cock. The shaft swiftly came to full erection and Rak’s mouth slid onto it.
“I can,” Hasaviz said, “but not hampered as I am now by prudish rules and regulations.”
“If you can train more slaves to do this, you can have a free hand,” said Virien, hips pumping in time with the slave’s bobbing head.
“I shall sift through the pubertal age children at once.” “I will find a way to hide the cost of the potions,” purred Virien. “Army expenses, perhaps.” He gripped Rak’s head and pounded the slave’s throat vigorously. He paused, still holding Rak’s head hard against his groin, and pumped a load of seed down Rak’s throat. Once he was certain that he was finished he pushed Rak away.
The slave coughed and gasped for air, and some of Virien’s seed escaped to trickle out of the corners of his mouth, but he still managed to say, “Thank you, master.”
Virien patted Rak on the head. “You’re welcome, slave.” He turned his gaze to Hasaviz. “I am impressed with the slave’s demeanor. That couldn’t have been easy. How do you control him? Can you show me how?”
“I can,” said Hasaviz simply. He touched Rak’s forehead. “Sleep,” he commanded.
* * * * Virien felt his eyes widening as the slave slumped to the floor, asleep. “Amazing,” he breathed.
“The spell is both elemental and blood magic,” explained Hasaviz. “More than one person can be keyed into the spell, a convenience for training the slave. The best part is, you don’t have to be a mage to invoke the spell. You just have to have a strong will. But he has to be asleep for this, to prevent him from learning the details of the spell. We don’t want him to figure out how to break it.”
“Let’s get on with this,” Virien said, growing impatient. Hasaviz calmly walked Virien through the spell step by step. Virien used the small golden dagger to nick his fingers, hissing in displeasure at the pain, but it was worth it as he abruptly sensed the slave, and knew, at a bone-deep level, that he could control the beast. He stroked the sleeping body possessively, and not only could he feel the slave responding to him, he could feel every bit of the pleasure he was causing the slave’s body.
“Wake up, slave,” said Hasaviz, touching Rak’s head again. The trainer backed off when the slave’s yellowgreen eyes opened.
Virien focused his attention on making the slave obey him. “Kneel,” he snapped, and was rewarded by prompt compliance. “Lick my feet,” he tried next. The slave bent forward and Virien shivered with pleasure as the slave’s tongue stroked along his toes. He sagged down onto the pleasure couch, and the slave followed him, still licking his master’s feet as he’d been bidden. Virien lifted his feet to give the slave access to the bottoms as well. The long, agile tongue felt exquisite as it caressed his feet. “Good slave,” he murmured, allowing his eyes to close as he relaxed, enjoying the slave’s ministrations.
After a while, Hasaviz suggested, “You need to work on controlling him through more difficult commands.” “You can stop now, slave. Kneel.” Rak straightened up and positioned himself submissively before Virien once more. Virien fondled the slave’s erection with a foot. “It’s hard to tell if he’s obeying because of the control spell, or your training. How does he behave when he’s really under pressure? Say, during a flogging?
Hasaviz snorted. “The slave likes pain. Flogging is useful, though, for the pain and pleasure trains him better than words and sex alone ever could.” He positioned Rak for a whipping with a few gestures and touches, then handed Virien a heavy leather flogger. Each of the twenty tails was no wider than a single fingerwidth, and each had at least two wooden beads attached.
Virien was liberal with the flogger, chuckling at Rak’s cries of pain. He aimed his strikes at Rak’s calves, thighs, buttocks, and groin. Virien knew he was causing the slave to feel pain, but somehow, that pain was transmitted to Virien as pleasure. His first lash across Rak’s package caused the slave to orgasm. Virien groaned as the slave’s ecstasy flashed through him as if it had been his own orgasm. With a delighted laugh, he sheathed himself in Rak’s body. He used Rak with savage thrusts, pulling all the way out each time, then ramming back in with great force.
Each time, Rak cried out in pleasure, his internal muscles clenching on Virien. The flogger struck Rak’s back and belly over and over, and he orgasmed from the pain once more. Virien enjoyed the slave’s pleasure, but that didn’t cause him to stop, but rather to redouble his efforts. By the time Virien was satisfied, there was blood trickling down Rak’s thighs, and the slave was liberally coated with bruises and welts.
“Gah! Blood!” Virien exclaimed. He fumbled for a blood amulet.
“In Zoth, that would be taken as a sign of total mastery over the slave,” Hasaviz told him. “Clean me, slave,” snapped Virien. Rak dropped to his knees and licked Virien’s blood-streaked cock. “Make sure you get it all, slave.”
Cleaning the blood off had an inevitable result, and Virien thrust into Rak’s mouth yet again. He stepped on Rak’s cock and mashed it to the floor as he pistoned his pole in and out of the slave’s throat.
As his seed exploded down Rak’s throat, Virien said, “I haven’t climaxed this many times since Owain and I received that gift of slave girls. Too bad they were so fragile. That was before you took over.”
“The slave’s skill makes a difference. He is motivated to please.”
“The potions?” “That is correct. The magic forces him to seek relief, and will kill him if he doesn’t get it. That ensures a properly motivated attitude. The only pleasure he gets is what his user gives him. If you don’t climax within him, he gets no relief. When a slave like this begs, he means it.”
Hasaviz led Rak over to the pleasure rack and strapped him down. “It is amusing to set a sex slave burning and then deny them relief. It’s used as a training tool, and to break unruly slaves like he was.”
Under Hasaviz’s tutelage, Virien brought Rak to a fever pitch, using fingers and the careful application of pain. Already broken once, Rak didn’t take long to break a second time. As the fires became unbearable, he moaned and lifted his hips towards Virien. “What do you want, slave?” purred the chancellor.
“Please master, take your pleasure in my humble body, I yearn to be dominated by your superior maleness and filled with your strength.”
With a smirk, Virien thrust into him at last, and Rak sang with the pleasure of it.
“Well, Prince Araken or whatever your filthy dark servant name is, you have certainly improved relations between our countries,” Virien chuckled at his own pun. “I imagine our trade will be stimulated, but not with Okyro.”
He fell silent, pumped a few last times, and climaxed, spilling his seed into Rak’s body yet again. Rak thanked him, then cleaned him, but this time, Virien’s cock didn’t rise up for more. “Hasaviz, how long to train a sex slave?” asked Virien. “If our king had a trained one to experience, it would be easier for both of us.”
“Years, to do it right,” said Hasaviz with regret. “But perhaps we can purchase a female sex slave for him.”
“Yes, we’ll bring in a female one for my unadventurous brother. Start the process,” Virien ordered as he tucked himself away and readjusted his clothing. “Even that will take some time.”
Hasaviz bowed. “Yes, my lord.” Virien patted Rak’s head. “Thank you for giving me the correct view of sex slaves. You’ll tell no one of anything that was said in here.” He fished his fancy shoes out from under the couch, put them on, and walked out with a jaunty step.
Chapter Thirteen: Hunting and Healing
“I think we should already be in flight when Murson leaves, rather than you launching from the palace. What do you think?” Jisten sat on Scorth’s back. They had planned this very carefully, and Jisten secretly thought that Scorth had enjoyed their talks as much as himself.
Scorth launched from the palace roof. I think that’s a good idea. A speck in the
sky is less obvious than a dragon leaving in his wake.
Jisten easily compensated for Scorth’s massive haunches contracting. Scorth powered straight up, until they were as high as he could fly. The air was cold and thin up here.
Jisten breathed in the cold air gladly. “If I migrated with my people, this wouldn’t bother me.” He checked his heavy crossbow as Scorth settled into level flight, circling the city. “He never varies his routine.”
Now we wait, Scorth told him.
“Will you hear the noontime call-toworship carillon? It’s a beautiful melody.” No, but I will see him , replied Scorth. We are much too high to hear a carillon. Jisten craned his neck this way and that, enjoying the view, even if he had no hope of seeing the sun priest. Scorth broadened their link and let Jisten see through his eyes. I am a sight hunter.
Jisten’s hands tightened on the harness as he adjusted. “Thank you, Scorth.”
You’re welcome, Jisten. There’s less shifting of mass this way. It wasn’t long before the cream and gold clad figure emerged. Scorth focused on Murson immediately. He dropped a hundred feet. Jisten readied the crossbow. “Si’Yeni, bless my aim but not my bolt.”
Murson’s tiny figure mounted his miniature horse and the chestnut beast headed for the palace gates. Scorth turned on a wingtip to change their trajectory so that they were behind the priest. Scorth set his wings into a shallow dive. By the time they were close enough to shoot, they would be low enough. Jisten gained an appreciation for how far away an aerial hunter could spot movement. They were miles out, and as a result, Murson had plenty of warning. Scorth was far from silent. He was no owl, and the wind whistled over his wings, almost a howling sound, and hair-raising in timbre. He was also black, which made him startlingly obvious in the daytime sky, which was a fact that neither Scorth nor Jisten had given a moment’s thought to.
The sun priest’s golden blast of energy was almost as large as Scorth himself. A golden gryphon rose from the Sun Temple and screeched a challenge as it arrowed up towards Scorth. Undeterred, Jisten fired his crossbow at Murson.
The bolt burst into golden flames and was gone. Scorth dove to the right, losing altitude to gain speed. They shot past the gryphon, who screeched angrily. Jisten flattened himself against Scorth’s back as he reloaded the crossbow.
Murson sent another blast at Scorth and the dragon returned the favor. Golden fire met dragonfire. The explosion flattened everyone in the street for a distance of a hundred paces, and shattered shards of glass rained to the street from every windowframe in the blast radius.
The gryphon stooped on Scorth, sinking long talons into the dragon’s flank. Jisten twisted around and shot it. Scorth’s jaws snapped shut on one of the gryphon’s wings. He ripped the smaller beast off and flung it to the street, aiming at Murson. The sun priest chanted and the beast dissolved before it hit him.
Scorth sent a second blast of fire at the priest. A shield sprang up in time. Jisten cursed as he reloaded his crossbow.
We can’t win this fight, said Scorth glumly. Rak was screaming at him to retreat.
Jisten could hear Rak. “Do as he says.” He stripped off his simple black and tan Valer jacket and threw it at Murson in hopes that Rak wouldn’t be blamed. Scorth powered back into the sky, quickly turning away from the city. He flew to the ice lake, where Rak would meet them.
Scorth landed beside the lake, rather than in it, and nearly collapsed when his right rear leg buckled. Jisten slid off Scorth and ran to that leg. Scorth turned his head to survey the damage. It looks like I ripped a gryphon off of it. Deep, bloody furrows attested to the length of the foe’s talons.
“Because you did?” Jisten asked.
Rak will heal me, added Scorth.
“It would have been worth it if it had worked,” Jisten said. It didn’t occur to me that he’d be ready for us. Do you think someone tipped him off?
“Or maybe a big black dragon dropping out of a daytime sky was a bit obvious,” Jisten sighed. “He had a lot of warning.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “Neither did I,” Jisten said. “I thought we would be a bit closer. But it’s my fault. I’ll have to kill him myself.”
The thunder of hooves alerted them to Rak’s arrival. Vyld, Zala, and Vrema pulled up with much snorting of smoke and tossing of manes. Rak just about flew off Vyld’s back, wings spread in agitation. “There will be no more attempts on that sun priest! Twice you have tried, and twice you have failed! Next time, one or both of you might be killed!”
Jisten backpedaled into Scorth’s side. Rak followed him until they were chest to chest and then touched his cheek. “I love that you want to defend me, and avenge me, but please, stop. He will not hesitate to kill you.”
Jisten turned his face to Rak’s hand and kissed it. “I can’t just stand by and let him abuse you.” He put his arms around Rak. “What sort of man would I be?”
“I understand,” said Rak. “But I would be devastated if you died, and so would Scorth.”
“Do you really want a coward who stands aside while you are raped?” “You have proven that you are not a coward,” said Rak after a moment. “Now stop trying to kill him.”
Jisten held Rak close to him, so that his baritone chuckle rumbled through the smaller man. “You are so very persuasive. But how can I stop, when the abuse has not stopped?”
Rak looked up with a wry smile on his lips. “That is not an agreement.” Jisten smiled back. “Very perceptive, High Priest.” He kissed him to stop the conversation. Which also was not an agreement.
Scorth heaved a sigh and prodded Rak. Heal me. It hurts. Jisten once more heard Rak as he retorted mentally, That is what you get for ripping a gryphon off your haunch. But he broke off the kiss and turned to survey the damaged leg.
“For that, I am very sorry,” Jisten said, wondering why he was now able to hear Rak as easily as he did Scorth. He’d been tested for magical talents at puberty, like all adolescents were, but the priests hadn’t found anything. So he had no idea why he could hear the dragon and his rider, but he appreciated the gift of that ability, wherever it had come from. “I won’t involve Scorth in any further attempts.”
“He chose to assist you,” said Rak. “His injuries are his own fault, not yours.” Rak laid hands on the wounds and chanted, calling his power. He was slumped with exhaustion by the time he was done. Scorth’s wound healed, he laid his head down and closed his eyes.
Jisten let his hands wander down Rak’s wings, just to make sure that Rak was distracted from his former train of thought. Rak’s hands worked their way under Jisten’s patched tunic. “I have never seen you dressed in anything but your uniform,” said Rak in a husky voice.
Encouraged, Jisten let his hands caress the leading edges of the wings, from shoulder-joint to elbow-joint to wrist-joint. Rak unbuckled Jisten’s belt and slid his hands down Jisten’s legs, under the pants.
“Take them off,” Jisten whispered into Rak’s ear. Rak eased the pants down, kneeling to pull them off over Jisten’s feet. He had to remove Jisten’s boots and socks first, a process which he prolonged by massaging each newly bared foot with strong fingers. Jisten enjoyed the foot massage until Rak kissed them.
“S’Rak, don’t kiss my feet,” Jisten said, feeling pained, “You’re my superior.”
Rak chuckled softly but he didn’t argue. He straightened up, pulled Jisten’s shorts down, and nuzzled Jisten’s sex. “May I kiss this instead?”
When Jisten moaned an agreement, Rak kissed his cock thoroughly. Then he added tongue. Jisten stroked Rak’s wings, enjoying the way they pressed into his hands as he swept down the first finger-spar as far as his arms could reach. He skipped inward to the second spar and stroked upwards, then to the third spar and down, then up the fourth. Rak shuddered in pleasure beneath his hands, and sucked Jisten’s shaft into his mouth. Now Jisten shuddered and his long sweeps became small massaging circles on the armature of the wings.
Rak moaned around his mouthful, but his equi
site stimulation didn’t let up for a moment. Jisten felt his knees trembling as the blowjob progressed, and it was all he could do to remain upright. He massaged Rak’s wings with a gentle touch, trying to return even a small amount of the incredible pleasure Rak was giving him. Jisten climaxed, and Rak swallowed every drop, and then kissed his way up Jisten’s torso.
Jisten continued his wing stimulation. Once Rak reached his mouth, he kissed back and whispered, “I want to bring you off, love.”
Rak pressed against him. “Then enter me,” he replied. Jisten turned him around and pressed him against his dragon, massaging his firm buttocks. Rak eagerly pushed himself back into Jisten’s hands.
Jisten loosened Rak’s opening with a finger before he pushed in, well lubricated from the blowjob. Rak moaned and pushed himself more fully onto Jisten’s massive shaft. Between the two of them, Jisten was fully in Rak after only a few thrusts. Jisten kissed Rak’s neck and shoulders as he thrust in and out, setting a strong rhythm. Rak worked in counterpoint, internal muscles busy also, and his wings stroked Jisten’s sides with each thrust.
“How long do you want me to hold back?” Jisten whispered. “Nnnggg,” replied Rak, and Jisten realized that his partner was so ready he was thrumming with the tension of his need for release.
Jisten squeezed Rak close and he exploded deep within the Loftoni. Rak’s exclamation at the combined releases echoed. Even Scorth thrummed and Jisten blushed as they vibrated with it. Rak relaxed against Jisten, still holding the Valer inside him. Jisten sank to the ground and cuddled him. Scorth’s tail coiled about them, so that they lay in the protected circle of the dragon.
When Jisten thought Rak was asleep, he whispered, “I won’t leave you at the mercy of the rapists, like I did as a raw recruit. Never again.”
Rak’s eyes opened. “Jisten, please be careful.” Jisten groaned. “You’re a very light sleeper. I’ve learned much since I was a raw recruit.” He kissed Rak and a brief tongue wrestle occurred.
“I will not try to extract a promise from you, but I will ask that you use caution and try not to get caught, or worse, killed.”