Goodbye to the Jungle

by Wayne Mansfield

  The fragrance in the water appealed to Jahl. It reminded him of springtime in the jungle, when the frangipanis and wild jasmine were in flower, filling the air with their intoxicating perfume. As he sank into the bath, the warm water enveloped his body, melting away every ounce of tension. He closed his eyes for a moment and smiled before remembering his predicament.

  “Ahh. I knew you’d enjoy a hot bath.” Brocknor patted him on the shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll leave you with Mari. Come and find me when you’ve finished.”

  Jahl watched him leave, then turned his attention to the woman bringing yet another bucket of water to the bath. As she poured it, they held each other’s gaze.

  “Where are you from?” he asked.

  “Arari.”

  People from the far south. They inhabited the jungle near the vast blue ocean. They ate fish and had canoes. Some lived in caves, but others had huts like Jahl’s people, only built on the ground.

  “You?” she asked.

  “Hamica.”

  She nodded.

  “Why do you stay here?” he asked.

  Mari frowned. “Because I cannot leave.”

  The answer puzzled Jahl, for even though she was not of the trees, the walls surrounding the villa weren’t so high that a person of the sea couldn’t use the trees to help her scale them. “Why not?”

  Mari glanced towards the front of the room. “Because,” she said, kneeling, “if I was to leave and they caught me, my life would not be half as good as it is now. My village is too far away to risk leaving. Without any doubt, I’d be caught.”

  “And then what?”

  She frowned. “It would be up to the master to punish me.”

  “How would he punish you?”

  Mari shrugged. “I don’t know. I am his only servant. But I have heard of others who have been whipped, in public. Another who had a foot cut off to stop him from ever running away again. Mostly it’s beatings. The thing with beatings is you don’t know how it will finish. How it will leave you.”

  Jahl considered the information while Mari returned the bucket to a hook near the fireplace. Aware of her moving past him, Jahl didn’t realise she had left him alone until after he had decided to delay his escape for a while, until he could better plan it.

  He lay against the raised end of the tub, soaking in the warm, fragrant water. With his eyes closed, he could almost imagine being in the jungle, immersed in the river. Almost. If he’d been in the jungle, he would have heard noises—birdsong, monkeys calling, the occasional roar of a wild animal, the breeze through leaves, the calm trickling of river water. But he heard none of those sounds. The villa lay silent.

  This must be what death is like.

  When the bath water grew cold, Jahl got out. He walked from the room, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the floor. In the open area at the centre of the villa, he stood, arms out, and face raised to the sun.

  “What are you doing?” asked Brocknor, laughing.

  Jahl dropped his arms and looked at him quizzically. Isn’t it obvious?

  “Didn’t Mari leave you a towel?” Brocknor disappeared into the room where Jahl had bathed, emerging a moment later with a towel. He threw it to Jahl, who caught it, though he had no idea what to do with it.

  Brocknor began to demonstrate how to use it by miming, his hands becoming fists that gripped the edges of the invisible towel as he rubbed it back and forth across his body.

  Jahl understood, but the sun had already done enough of what the towel had been provided to do. Instead, not to waste an opportunity, he tied the material around his middle.

  Brocknor shook his head. “No, no, no.” He yanked the towel off. “I didn’t pay all that gold just to have your beauty covered.” He placed a hand on Jahl’s shoulder and smiled. “I want to see your body. To gaze upon that beautiful cock.”

  He ran his hand down Jahl’s smooth torso, stopping at the small patch of pubic hair. He loosely gripped it, making a sound of appreciation. With the same hand, he cupped Jahl’s cock and balls, humming his satisfaction.

  “You’ve made me a very happy man,” he said, releasing Jahl’s genitals. “Come here.”

  He hugged Jahl to him, pressing their bodies together. Jahl could feel Brocknor’s rigid cock rubbing ever so slightly against his thigh.

  As Jahl’s head rested against Brocknor’s broad chest, he recalled a similar embrace the previous summer. He’d come across Zimi, an extremely handsome member of his tribe, sitting by the river, pleasuring himself. He had watched for a long time until Zimi discovered him. The man had beckoned to him, and he had gone, his own cock standing out in front like Zimi’s. They had touched and stroked each other’s organs, then kissed and put each other’s cocks in their mouths. They had lain together as man and woman, only with no anal penetration, just a mutual comforting.

  Unfortunately, his memories of the encounter had an arousing effect on him. He soon realised he had grown as hard as Brocknor.

  The man stepped away, gazing down at Jahl’s massive erection. “Now that’s a sight to behold,” he said, grinning. “I’d love to paint you just as you are now. A man in his prime.”

  He knelt and examined Jahl’s cock, stroking it, then lifting it to inspect the underside. He brought his nose to where the base of the cock joined the scrotum and sniffed. The scent, based on his widening smile, brought much pleasure. He took the cock into his mouth and sucked, taking his lips down to the base and sliding back to the swollen head.

  Jahl couldn’t deny the intense sensations welling up inside. Despite not wanting to enjoy Brocknor’s lips on his cock and the warm, moist feeling of the tongue and throat enveloping his erection, he did. He was powerless to feel any other way. Never had he experienced such euphoria, such ecstasy. A moan escaped his lips, and at first, he was disappointed with himself for the slip. Yet as Brocknor continued, Jahl gave in to his feelings and moaned freely, even resting his hands on the man’s head, pulling it harder onto his cock and feeling the engorged crown going deeper down the throat.

  Brocknor gripped the base of Jahl’s cock, stroking it at a slightly faster rate than his mouth moved, the effect instantaneous and overwhelming.

  Jahl wanted the experience never to end, but couldn’t delay the forthcoming climax. His balls tightened, and the explosion built. Suddenly, his cock swelled. Brocknor moved his hand harder and faster. Jahl gripped Brocknor’s head as he arched his back and cried out to the sky.

  After the last drop had spilled from Jahl’s cock, Brocknor stood and kissed him, delivering a small sample of his own seed. It tasted slightly salty and slightly bitter. A curious mix of flavours, but not unpleasant. He swallowed it as Brocknor’s tongue slipped into his mouth. Surprised at the intrusion, he jerked his head back. But Brocknor, plainly knowing more about the erotic arts, held Jahl’s head in place as they recommenced the kiss.

  After they broke their embrace, Jahl fully expected to be made to return the pleasure he had been given, and when that didn’t happen, he felt not only surprise, but relief.

  “I’ll leave you to explore your new home,” said Brocknor. “I have some work to do.” He went to turn, then stopped. “You are not to disturb me when I’m working. Only in the direst emergency. Any questions you have, Mari can answer. Is that clear?”

  Jahl understood no more than half of what Brocknor had said, but nodded anyway.

  Chapter 5

  That evening, a warm breeze blew from the inland deserts and grasslands, leading the long, filmy curtains in a delicate dance. They mesmerized Jahl, and he could have watched them rise and drift down, billow out, then gracefully fold in on themselves all evening.

  Dinner was an exotic treat. He’d never tasted chicken before. He thought it would be similar to wild duck, but he was mistaken. He also enjoyed small berry-type fruits called olives, and juicy red grapes, then fish with sauce and rice. And red wine, which made him feel simultaneously dizzy and happy. Eager for more, he asked Mari to pour his second mug, prompting Bro
cknor to caution him.

  “Not too much. You might be feeling joyous now, but if you’re not used to it, you could find yourself suffering in the morning.”

  After dinner, after the plates and the wine had been cleared, Brocknor got up.

  “You must be tired,” he said, walking around the table to Jahl, who stood. “It’s been a big day for both of us.”

  He draped an arm around Jahl’s shoulders and guided him across the atrium.

  “Tonight, I’d like you to sleep with me. In the morning, after breakfast, I’ll show you your room. But for tonight, I’d like to feel you next to me.”

  Brocknor’s room contained a large bed, laden with cushions and pillows, and hung with curtains of rich purples, reds, and blues. There were tall chairs and small tables, and erotic paintings of copulating men adorning the walls, with grape vines painted along the top, framing them.

  Brocknor removed his belt and tunic, leaving them where they fell. “You may get in. Don’t wait for me.”

  Jahl clambered onto the soft mattress, where he remained, kneeling, his full attention on Brocknor, admiring the musculature of his chest and his back. And his low-hanging testicles, his dense thatch of pubic hair that surrounded a thick cock, which appeared to be growing larger by barely perceptible degrees.

  Jahl’s own cock stirred, seeming not to know whether it wanted to become erect or not. It would start to harden, then soften, until Brocknor bent over to undo his sandals. The sight of the man’s muscular buttocks, spreading a little to reveal the dark, slightly hairy space between them, had Jahl as hard as the bedpost. He gave his cock exactly three tugs as Brocknor untied the laces of his second sandal.

  Brocknor turned, then smiled when he noticed Jahl watching him so intently. He raised his arms. “You like?” His gaze dropped to Jahl’s erection. “You do like.”

  Jahl blushed. Suddenly he didn’t know where to look. He turned slightly, then, deciding that staring into the shadows would look even more stupid, he lay against the sea of cushions.

  Brocknor laughed. “You’re a strange one,” he said, climbing onto the bed. “Come here. Lie with me.”

  Jahl scooted into Brocknor’s arms, his head resting on the man’s chest.

  “This is nice, isn’t it?”

  Jahl pondered the question and snuggled in closer. It actually was nice, he decided.

  They lay together in silence for a long while. Jahl’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier as he watched the dancing shadows created by the dwindling flames of the various oil lamps. He could hear Brocknor snoring, but was too tired for the noise to interfere with him falling asleep.

  * * * *

  Jahl didn’t dream that night, or at least he couldn’t remember having dreamt when he woke up. He had, however, changed position during the night, for he found himself on his side, facing away from Brocknor. He could feel the man’s muscular bulk behind him, and Brocknor’s thick, rigid cock pushing against his buttocks.

  He went to roll over, but no sooner had he stirred than he heard Brocknor’s voice.

  “You’re awake.” He draped an arm over Jahl’s waist and slid in closer. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Brocknor reached between their bodies, stroking his cock a couple of times, his knuckles pressing into the flesh of Jahl’s buttocks. Then, Jahl felt something cold and wet smeared on his anus. He stared unblinkingly ahead, imagining what would follow.

  Brocknor began kissing the back of Jahl’s neck and nuzzling the sensitive skin behind his ear. A strange but pleasurable sensation ran up and down his spine, making him shudder uncontrollably. He almost didn’t notice Brocknor entering him, pushing in the head of his cock and leaving it there for a moment before ever so slowly sliding it all the way inside.

  “How does that feel?” whispered Brocknor, his deep voice reverberating inside Jahl and setting off a renewed series of shudders.

  Before Jahl could answer, Brocknor began gently thrusting into him. At first, it felt uncomfortable, with a throbbing pain around his sphincter and a duller pain deep inside, but with Brocknor talking in a whisper, he soon relaxed and any discomfort evaporated.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  Jahl shook his head against the pillows.

  “Good.”

  Brocknor continued kissing his neck, his warm, wet tongue working in tandem with his lips to send tingles throughout Jahl’s body.

  Jahl writhed against Brocknor’s muscular bulk. For the first time in his life, he felt completely under the control of another person, though it wasn’t threatening or uncomfortable. The truth of it was, he’d never felt such absolute pleasure thoroughly filling him, and thought he might swell and burst from it.

  When Brocknor took one of Jahl’s nipples between his fingers and thumb, Jahl palmed the back of Brocknor’s hand. As Brocknor’s hips moved faster, Jahl thrust back each time the man thrust in. He was powerless to stop the expressions of euphoria spilling from his throat, which he didn’t care if Mari heard or not. It wouldn’t have mattered. He could no more to stop his vocalisations than he could fly.

  All too soon, Brocknor clutched Jahl’s hip, his fingers digging into the flesh as he moved faster and more powerfully. Brocknor puffed and grunted, and the animal sounds excited Jahl. He began stroking his own erection. He hoped they could climax at the same time, though if they did, Brocknor had better hurry.

  When he could delay no longer, Jahl climaxed, crying out as his whole body tensed, prompting Brocknor, after thrusting one final time, to deliver his seed into him. Breathless and covered in a light sheen of perspiration, they lay together, Brocknor still inside Jahl, his arms enfolding him, and his lips pressing tiny kisses to the back of his neck.

  “I see clearly why you needed someone,” said Jahl.

  At first, Brocknor didn’t answer, and Jahl wondered if he had said something to offend his new master.

  “Why do you think I needed someone?” asked Brocknor.

  “I think…that you needed someone to love. To care for.”

  Brocknor kissed the back of his neck once more. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  * * * *

  Later that day, Jahl rested in the garden by himself. Brocknor was working—therefore, not to be disturbed—while Mari toiled elsewhere in the villa. Jahl lay on the cool, soft grass, staring up at the clouds drifting aimlessly across a sky of vivid blue. He smiled, though not because of the sensual start to his morning. His mind was in the jungle, on his mother and the rest of his family.

  By now, they would have searched the immediate jungle and, finding no trace of him, would have widened their search. His mother was, no doubt, deeply upset and concerned, though still hopeful. The thought of her with tears in her eyes erased the smile from his face.

  He sat up, suddenly angry at his situation. After glancing over his shoulder at the villa, he got to his feet and walked to the nearest tree, the lowest branch even in height with his head. He noted, however, that any lower branches had been removed, although not recently, since the tree had almost finished healing itself. He placed a palm against the smooth bark and peered into the canopy. It wouldn’t take much to hoist himself up, and in the blink of an eye, he’d be over the wall and free.

  “Hello, Jahl.”

  The sound of Brocknor’s voice set Jahl’s heart racing. He turned, probably looking as guilty as he felt.

  Brocknor walked purposefully towards him. “What are you doing?”

  His master’s smile looked fixed. Had he been watching? Testing him? Waiting for him to do something? To attempt an escape?

  Jahl shrugged. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

  Brocknor glanced at the tree and at the top of the wall. “It looked like you were about to do something.”

  Jahl shrugged again. “I probably was about to do something. Aren’t we most of the time? About to do something?”

  The smile dropped from Brocknor’s face. He placed an arm around Jahl’s shoulders. “Yes, very philo
sophical.”

  Jahl’s first instinct was to shrug it off. He didn’t appreciate being accused of doing something he had yet to do. No crime had been committed. A thought was only a thought until it turned into an action, and as far as he was aware, even in the land of men, a thought wasn’t a punishable offence.

  “Let’s go indoors and take some refreshment. And then I wouldn’t mind painting you.” Brocknor guided him across the grass and into the villa. “I asked Mari to prepare tea.”

  A lacquered wooden tray with a large teapot and cups sat on the table in the atrium. It seemed Jahl had been mistaken. Brocknor hadn’t been spying on him. It had been a coincidence, Brocknor appearing at the moment Jahl had decided to…

  To what? Had he really been thinking of escaping? Or had he merely been gathering information for later use?

  * * * *

  After they’d finished their tea, Brocknor took Jahl past the small pool to the other end of the atrium, where he’d set up an easel. A piece of thin wood sat on the easel’s ledge, with a collection of paints, brushes and ceramic bowls on a table beside it.

  “I’ve been saying I was going to paint you, and now I shall.” Brocknor posed Jahl with his legs slightly apart and his arms raised to the gods, his back arched and his chest out. “Perfect.”

  He stepped behind the easel and, after mixing colours in a ceramic pot, dipped his brush and began to apply colour to the board.

  “I painted the whole villa myself. Every image, every decoration.”

  Jahl relaxed his arms and looked at Brocknor in readiness to reply.

  “No, no, no.” Brocknor put down his brush. “You mustn’t move.”

  He hurried to Jahl and returned his head and arms to their correct positions, taking the opportunity to run a palm over Jahl’s smooth torso and down to his cock. “Let’s see if we can’t make this a little more impressive.”

  He gave Jahl’s cock a dozen or so tugs before returning to his painting.

  “I think everyone has a talent. I think we are born with one gift or another, a pleasurable pastime to immerse ourselves in. A thing that brings us joy, an escape from the drudgery of the everyday.” He looked at Jahl and winked. “I wonder where your talents lie.”