She lay on her belly on a fur spread out on the baked clay-tile floor of a small back room in the temple. Her legs splayed out wide and her long black tresses reached almost to the gleaming alabaster globes of her bare buttocks.
Those magical buttocks had given him ecstasy beyond measure scant moments before. She had opened those selfsame buttocks and admitted him to that sacred chamber reserved for the king. Anointed with a certain salve, his member had penetrated into the dark cavern in her backside and deeply into her most secret part. Ah, the burning heat and clutching tightness of that nether passage!
"And now, lord, permit me to summon a maidservant to serve you nuts and sweetmeats to refresh your ardor." She rang a copper handbell and . . . a troop of temple guards boiled into the room, easily subduing Goriander.
"What is the meaning of this? I am a peaceful merchant, and moreover a nephew to the tribal elder of -- "
The commander of the guards laughed. "Usurp the prerogative of the Great King, would you? Pay the price then, filthy outlander."
Lying prone, face to the ground, with wrists and ankles tied behind him, a stripped-naked Goriander struggled with his bonds. No use. These were well-tanned leather straps and restraints. He was trussed up like a sacrificial goat. He tried to recall whether Marduk, the local deity, fed on humans, demanded living tribute be thrown into his flaming belly.
Betrayed by Astara! He should have known better than to trust a lying, conniving common temple whore. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to regret the uncommon favors she had granted him. The slippery pulsating grasp of her forbidden passage and the regrettably painful death that no doubt awaited him, oh! Betrayed by his own rampant member. Fool!
"Fool!"
The harsh voice of doom penetrated his gut like the double-edged blade of a newly-sharpened bronze dagger.
"Thou needst not prostrate thyself, for in truth thou art prostrate, albeit involuntarily. Rejoice that I am the master of thy fate, as I am the master of all who live and draw breath within my realm. Indeed, look upon me and despair."
Uruk-Agina, High King of Kish. Supreme overlord of all the Sumerian city-states. Master of the fate of thousands. Master of his fate.
"I am honored, my Lord, that you will personally take from me my life. How then is it to be? Will you cut from my belly my liver to feed the holy flames of Marduk? Am I to have my arms and legs bound to racing war chariots to be pulled limb from limb as a spectacle for cheering throngs of your subjects? A royal spectacle indeed. Command it be so and have done with it."
"Not so, fool. Thou wilt pay in full royal measure, but not with thy worthless life. Something greatly more precious than that hast thou to forfeit, namely that which thou hast taken from the temple courtesan, that which is ordained for me, and me alone. Such is My Word, and such is the law of the land. From the robber shall be taken that which he has robbed."
A fate worse than death, then. The High King was to take him as a man takes a woman. His hind passage was to be honored (defiled!) with the Royal Member.
"Priests!"
Two burly temple attendants held Goriander from behind and forcibly spread his legs apart. A third applied a foul-smelling emolument onto his buttocks, then in the valley between the cheeks. It burned like fire at first, then the muscles in his legs and hind parts numbed and relaxed. His rear entrance throbbed and felt as if it had swollen to several times its normal size, but the sphincter muscles no longer answered to his will. He could not clench his hind gate shut. Thus had Goriander been ritually prepared for possession by the Great King.
Amidst the flicker of the smoky torches lighting the room and the cloying fragrance of burning incense, the chanting of the priests droned in hypnotic rhythm. Goriander peered back over his shoulder and saw the Great King approaching with rampant member. A shout arose from the priests as he felt his hind cheeks parted and then . . . something burning hot pierced deep into him and he was split asunder.
To his surprise, there was little discomfort as he felt the Great King thrusting within him. In some strange and perverse manner the sliding thrusts of the Royal Member within his bowels aroused him. Goriander sensed his own member engorging and a rising pressure within his guts and sinews signaled his own mounting excitement . . . and now he was building up to a vast surge of release. Release of all the hate and fear and lust and desire his mortal flesh contained. The blood sang within his ears and he groaned in helpless rapture. He was spilling his own seed!
Goriander was spasming in climax and now he felt a warm liquid gush within him as the Great King sighed with pleasure. He had served as a receptacle for a male member. He had been used as a woman. He had been robbed of his manhood.
"It appears, my handsome, forlorn merchant in rarities, that you have perhaps not irrevocably lost that which makes you a man."
Astara, dear sweet traitorous Astara, was attending to his needs in the tiny cell. Goriander was shackled to the wall, but the straw sleeping mat was not uncomfortable and the even the food somewhat tolerable.
"Come then, do once more unto me that which plunged you in such dire straits."
Astara had brought his member to full hardness by taking it between her crimson-painted lips and ministering to it with her artful mouth.
"Wherefore not? What more could the Great King do unto me that he has not already done?"
Astara knelt, facing away, with her forehead to the ground. Her oiled bare buttocks presented themselves to him.
Her tunnel of forbidden delights once more held his member enthralled, and as he journeyed in the far hidden depths of his paramour and betrayer, Goriander experienced yet again the throbbing spasms in his own tunnel. Memory of being himself possessed by the Great King's member blended with the sensations of taking Astara here and now. The Taker and the Taken -- what are they then but different likenesses of the same man?
"O, Great King, surely your delight brings me delight in turn. I welcome your Royal Member within my parts even as I fear that I am unworthy of it."
"Seek not to flatter me, quencher of my lust, receptacle of my seed. I alone decide who is or is not worthy. For now, close thy impudent mouth and open unto me thy sweet hindmost parts. If my eyes do not deceive me, thou hast widened somewhat in that certain place, but for the nonce it will suffice."
Several moons had gone by since Goriander had fallen into the clutches of the Great King. Being the recipient of the King's favors, he enjoyed the King's favor, having been installed in a luxurious apartment in the palace. Likewise he enjoyed the King's embraces in full measure, finding that he betimes preferred them even to Astara's delights. Perhaps being plowed is a more refined pleasure than plowing, he mused. Perhaps he had somehow gained more than that which he had lost. Was he now man or woman, or some eldritch blend of the both? Was it even of import still?
"We tryst in this place for the last time, my brave stallion."
"Why so, Astara, duplicitous lover of mine?"
"It is said that the Great King tires of your hind cheeks, and mayhap he likewise finds your innermost chamber wanting, being perhaps more slack than is his preference. He has appointed a new consort, a youth of comely features and the tightest of parts."
"Woe unto me! Am I to be fed to the fire in Marduk's belly?"
"Rejoice, merchant." The high priest had entered the room. "Marduk has no appetite for such as you. It is ordained that you have a more important role to play in the affairs of the world."
"How so, priestling?"
"Mock me if you dare, trader of flea-infested furs and glittering trinkets. You are no longer what you once were; you are both less and more. We have made of you both giver and receiver of male seed. Have you never wondered to what end?"
"Why, to serve the pleasure of the Great King."
"Not so, manling. The King serves at our pleasure. He is but a servant of Marduk. And this entire playlet, this charade of Royal Lust for the hind parts of men is but a portion of a far greater plan. Listen and be awestruck.
> "Know then that the hind passage is sacred to Marduk. It is the conduit of his Divine Grace, for is it not ordained that man receive the member and swallow the seed of another man in those very parts? This ritual gentles and civilizes those who partake in it. They are blessed with the primal urge of creation, chosen to bring forth new things upon the earth, namely those arts cunning and refined and of esoteric wisdom and knowing. They shall pass on culture to coming generations of men. They shall transform the world. All this is in accordance with the wishes of Marduk."
"And what is to become of me then, priest?"
"What think you then upon hearing my tidings? We shall anoint your miserable self with the rarest of oils, array you in costly attire, fill the packs of your bearer beasts with copper and bronze ingots, and yes, even the noble metal. Then, shall we hasten you on your way with this worthless temple whore at your side. Take her as mate if you are so minded.
"For it has been foreordained that you shall be fruitful and found a new tribe. Your children and your children's children will build a new Great City in a vale. There shall they practice the very rites we have taught you. Yea, men shall take women and men shall take men in the hind parts, in the like manner as has been done unto you. And the fame of the city and its customs shall spread far and wide. And you will call this city Sodom."
* * *
THE DEAL
Barney fancied himself a master of the art of seduction. He had conquered hundreds of women in his career and had left behind him a trail of broken hearts and bruised souls. But, hey, that was just collateral damage, and the game was only thing that counted.
Sharon intrigued him. She had the finest ass he had ever seen on a woman, and he had seen his share. He had gotten his first glimpse of her magnificent backside at the Simexco board meeting a couple of months back. She was a last-minute stand-in for the scheduled speaker, and she was making her best effort to keep the audience from falling asleep as she valiantly held forth on methods of meeting regional sales quotas. But Barney didn't hear a word she said. Those tight, round buttocks under her form-fitting power-suit slacks had riveted his attention like a target in the crosshairs of a gun sight.
"Sorry," he said to her afterwards, "but I didn't quite understand what you were getting at with that last PowerPunk slide."
Sharon smiled at him. "Not many of the attendees seemed to take much of an interest. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Slide shows are such a deadly bore."
He looked her in the eye and smiled back. "Not yours."
"Damn it, man. She's an executive VP in a Fortune 500 company. That puts her way out of your class. Mark my words, Barney, one of these days your pussy chasing is gonna land you in deep shit."
"Look, Johnny boy. When I home in on booty, I never give up. Never. And, I want that ass of hers. I need it, crave it, and I've simply got to have it. I'll do anything to get my hands on it."
"Anything?"
"I'm not sure I can bring myself to be unfaithful."
"Look, Sharon, Earl's a loser. He's the classic example of a wimp husband. The guy hasn't made love to you for months, and he probably can't even get it up any more. A woman of your caliber certainly deserves better than that. Not to mention that there's this explosive chemistry between us. Hey, when I touched your hand a minute ago, you could see the sparks fly. Look, baby, it's obvious that we're intended for each other. And, you can't fight fate."
"You're very persuasive, Barney. But, I don't know . . . "
"Well, can I at least order you something else to drink, my sweet?"
"No, but . . . "
"But?"
"But, would you take me home?"
Barney was facing death, and he didn't much care for the feeling. The business end of an automatic pistol looks like an eight-lane expressway to Hell when you're staring into it at point-blank range.
"So, what did you expect, chump? That I'd let you get away with messing with my woman?"
"But, but -- "
"Stop that damned sniveling. If I were going to kill you, it certainly wouldn't be like this. There are better ways, ways that would make you suffer more and that couldn't be traced back to me."
"Uh, Earl . . ."
"Yeah, scumbag?"
"Uh, well, is it too late to say I'm sorry?"
Sharon chose that moment to reappear. Barney hadn't seen her since that cursed split-second when she had motioned him into the house ahead of her. Since he had suddenly found himself knocked down and held at gunpoint. Like a chump, he had let himself be ambushed! Suckered!
"Barney, my love," she said.
Love?
"Here's your chance to get what you so desperately want. You were after my ass, right?"
This was getting way too weird. He looked from her face to her husband's. Earl gave him a lewd smirk, but without shifting his aim. What the fuck was going on here?
"All right, here's the deal," Earl said.
"You were hot for my wife's ass. Well, I can certainly respect that. She does have a world-class ass. But . . . so do you, my fine fellow. So do you."
"Me? Me?"
"If you want a shot at Sharon's ass, and if you want to hold on to your worthless life, then you'll just have to follow the program."
At gunpoint still, Barney let Sharon help him up from the floor. She snapped tight-fitting metal bands onto his wrists. Through attached eyelets in each of these shackles the lovely lady linked a cable leading up to a pulley overhead. She stepped back, and as her husband cranked the handle of an unseen winch, Barney was stretched upright, precariously teetering on his toes with his arms pulled uncomfortably tight, straight up over his head. The elaborate setup gave him the suspicion that he wasn't the first victim of this scam.
"Now we can get down to essentials." Earl patted him on the butt and reached down to . . .
Why is he unbuckling my belt? Barney asked himself. So he can drop my pants! In bondage and naked from the waist down, he struggled to hold back panic as he contemplated what might would come next.
The one thing he feared more than any other was rape -- anal rape. Boyhood whispers of what queers did to one another had given him nightmares for years. Even as a supposedly enlightened adult, with gay friends and acquaintances, he had shied away from thoughts of what they did in bed. In the ass -- they fucked each other in the ass! And now it was his turn.
His turn.
"You can relax and enjoy it, or have it forced on you." Earl gave an evil laugh. "Listen, tough guy, I can hammer a fifteen-inch steel spike into your asshole to rip it open, if that's what it takes. Or, you can cooperate and make it easier on yourself. Either way is perfectly fine by me."
Barney felt the sweat running down his face. He wanted to scream. If only he had a hand free -- and a knife in it -- so he could cut his own throat. He wished he were dead. He wished . . .
It hurt. There was a stab of pain so fierce that it became the center of his existence. Something was forcing itself into him down there. Something hard and brutal and unyielding. Up his . . .
"It doesn't have to hurt. Don't fight it. Stop tightening up. Relax. Give it up. Give up your ass. Give it to me. Open up. I'm a-knockin' at your door, so let me in. Let me . . . let me do you. Fuck you. Fuck you in the ass."
Earl's voice was a steady chant, compelling, irresistible, hypnotic in its intensity. And, it began penetrating into the center of Barney's consciousness, sapping his will to resist, soothing him, overcoming his revulsion, persuading him to . . . accept this horrible thing, this perversion, this invasion of his body. And he surrendered.
Barney felt the hard shaft ram into him, penetrate up into his core, and rip open his most vulnerable flesh -- his ass, his rectum, his tender inner chamber. It burned, IT BURNED, and he would have doubled over sobbing in anguish over the shame and humiliation of it if the cables hadn't held him rigidly upright. But it didn't hurt as much now, as his defloration proceeded. It was as if the shock of it all had finally anesthetized him and deadened the pain of the viola
tion of his most private self. And, he discovered, to his horror, that he had a painfully hard erection. And that Sharon was taking it into herself.
She was humming the tune to "Furry Alien Lover" as she exposed herself to him in all her glorious nakedness. As she rocked back on her heels, she writhed and entwined herself with him and slowly hand-fed his quivering hardon into the moist cavern between her legs. Barney's head throbbed to the syncopated rhythm of cock thrusting into his backside and pussy thrusting onto his front side, while crazed thoughts scrolled across his mind as if on a moving marquee: Fucked -- double-fucked -- fucked front and back. Robbed of manhood, stripped of illusions, and I'll never be the same again.
The Syntax of Seduction Page 14