The warm summer sun glistened off Seth's
deep, amber-colored skin as he lay on the flat stones of the hidden
woodland pool where he had stripped off and bathed.
His body shone with an even glow, tanned
with no marks. He had spent many hours sunning here, and there was
never any need for modesty.
In fact, there was little need for modesty
in Seth's life at all. He had been born into the forest and raised
there by his father, Adam, keeper of the king's forest, manager of
his deer, cutter of his firewood, and warden of all the king's game.
He had been raised without his mother
who had died at his birth, but he had enjoyed growing in the privacy
of the forests with his brother Marcus.
The two boys, only a few years apart
had frolicked about the woods as if it were their private backyard.
They knew every trail and rabbit run and burrow, every fox den and
had named every kit. They knew the dark and recessed places where
even the villagers who were forbidden to enter the king's forest but
always did were afraid to go.
The two boys had grown up in the woods
and splashed naked in the streams and ran the trails chasing the other
who could always be trusted to grab the other's clothing and scamper
away, naked himself, with the other naked brother in pursuit.
Often it was just easier to leave the
leather and hard-spun cloth rags at home. They needed them to go into
town, and they too easily ripped them in the woods.
Their father was much less angry to
have them scratch themselves on branches than tear their only clothing
and have to spend hours long into the night by firelight from the
hearth mending the carelessly torn garments.
Soon, the villagers who stole into the
forest for wood or to poach game told stories of small, sun-darkened
elves that jumped at them from behind bushes and stole game from their
snares.
And as the years wore on, the elves
got bigger as did their stories and the villagers fear of them. The
two ragamuffin sons of the gamekeeper bore small resemblance to the
fearsome wraiths of the woods when they strolled into town on their
infrequent visits with their father.
Seth was alone in the woods now. He
had been left to care for the game himself, to bring in the firewood
to the great castle and arrange for the occasional hunt when someone
from the castle cared to seek the plentiful game in the forest.
But not many ever ventured here now,
and keeping the villagers frightened with his pranks and occasional
sightings of what had now grown from an elf to a monstrous oversized
monster of the forest with blonde and flowing hair, massive shoulders
and body and strength that could break villagers in two and eat them,
though he had certainly never harmed any villager, it was certainly
a part of the lore of the village, and the events of the past months
had certainly stirred their fears.
And what had begun as two small naked
elves with hairless bodies and small manhoods had now grown into a
monster whose over-developed manhood was used as stories to scare
virgins who might wander too close to the forest.
And many a young boy dreamed of the
forest wraith and felt a stirring in his nightshirt and woke to find
its cloth stuck to his abdomen.
Seth enjoyed his status as the forest
wraith. It meant that few bothered him, and he had many hours to spend
in leisurely afternoons swimming in the pools and sunning on the rocks
and tending to his swelled manhood that always stood above him like
a sundial when he laid himself out on the rocks.
He felt it unfair to not minister to
it if it had the audacity to stand itself up from his thigh and blonde
bush and beg attention.
Seth was not a hermit. He liked people,
but he never found anything to talk to others about when he went to
the village to purchase the few things that he could not make or grow
for himself or to the castle to carry game or wood for the many heating
hearths or the cooking hearths. So he dressed himself in his only
deerskin and flax clothing and went about his business as quickly
as possible so that he could return to his house hidden in the woods
and get out of his clothing and get back to where he felt more natural
and at ease.
This time of the year, he had only to
supply enough wood for cooking which meant a trip to the castle no
more than one time a week and a delivery of a brace of fowl or a half
dozen hares ready for skinning, and those were usually left long before
the sun ever gave the Eastern sky a rosy glow and the cooks were still
sleeping off the night before.
When he saw the sun rise in the East,
he thought of his father and brother. The king had been summoned by
the high king to join him to save some great city of gold from something
called an "infidel", truly a great monster race of people for the
high king had commanded each of his subject kings to raise an army
to destroy them.
Old King Fredric had called upon his
sons and nephews and then upon his subjects to send the strongest
and the bravest to battle.
Each received a promise of glory, honor,
and salvation, and maybe even some plunder and gold. The king had
outfitted his army and marched away with them toward the East. And
along with them went the king's warden to supply the troop, and along
with him went the warden's oldest son, Marcus, now a golden god of
man just turned of age.
But in the woods remained Seth. He would
not be of age to join his father for another year even though his
size was nearly that of his brother. Besides, the king had need of
a warden for the forest to keep the castle supplied and the woods
safe.
There had been a time when all three
had worked hard each day to catch enough fish and fowl and game to
supply the castle and the extended family living there and all the
servants, but now the castle was nearly deserted.
The king was gone along with his oldest
son, Prince Eric. Seth had been as sorry to see Eric leave as he had
his brother.
Prince Eric and Marcus had been nearly
the same age, and the golden haired prince had often sneaked out of
the castle to prowl the woods with the two wraiths, and many a frightened
villager had no idea that the naked wood elf that screamed at them
from the dark behind the trees was none other than their future king,
and the wild shrieking that they heard at their retreat was the high
pitched giggling of three young men.
Marcus and Prince Eric had grown very
close over the years, but they rarely ever shut out the younger Seth,
though at times Seth had to search for them when they went off together.
And he had found them more than once coupling in the woods.
He had wanted to join in with them,
but he had never been allowed. But he had watched them from his hiding
places, and he dreamed of what they were doing as he snuggled with
his brother on cold nights.
The king, too, had spent many of his
days in the forest hunting. He enjoyed hunting with his dogs, on horseback,
and he enjoyed using the bow to bring down game while laying in wait
along some deer trail.
Adam would accompany him on the hunts
either leading the group of hunters from the castle or alone, just
Adam and King Frederic. They had much in common — both losing their
wives to childbirth in the same year and never finding another to
replace them, both with two sons.
But Seth and the mighty band of naked
warriors were never able to find the two men when they hunted alone.
Adam truly knew the woods better than the boys, and indeed there must
be a place they had yet to find.
But King Frederic and Adam spent many
long hours together in the hunt, though they frequently returned with
nothing in hand other than a glow of contentment on their faces.
It had been right for Adam and Marcus
to leave together as they had and his father to walk along behind
his king and his son, the prince. They were all like matched braces
of powerful animals — the king and his father, Prince Eric and Marcus.
Montfort had remained. He had always
been just Montfort, not Prince Montfort. Eric was the prince. Montfort
was his younger brother who had killed his mother in childbirth, the
villagers said. The villagers had loved her, and he had always been
held apart from the favored family — an infant who killed his mother.
Montfort had never been a creature of
the forest. He had gone along with his older brother when younger.
Prince Eric had thought that Montfort would be a good match for Seth
since they were only a few months apart in age, but Montfort had no
love of the woods.
When he found animals in the villagers
traps, Montfort would more often skin the poor creature alive and
then threaten to do the same with the villager who had set the trap.
As the years passed, the two brothers
grew even further apart, even in appearance. Both were tow-headed
blondes as small children, but as Prince Eric played naked in the
woods, his skin darkened to a bronze and his hair became a golden
crown about the young prince's head.
Montfort found no joy outside the castle
and took the castle as his domain. He searched out the inner recesses
and hidden passages and rooms and long forgotten chambers and staked
claim to them in the same way that the three boys in the woods knew
their world.
Visitors to the castle would often find
tricks played on them from behind a large wall hanging, only to pull
the hanging aside and find what appeared to be a bare stone wall.
They never saw the sneering hate in the eyes of the young boy who
had slipped behind the hidden stone doorway in the wall.
And as he spent the days in the dark
passageways illuminated only by torch or candle, Montfort's skin grew
pale and nearly white as if he had been held in a tomb, and his white
hair darkened to a dirty blonde that did not wash out.
Yet as he crawled about the spaces and
stairwells and crawled up the stone walls using hidden hand and toe
holds long forgotten, he, too, grew in strength though his body never
took on the athletic mass of young Eric.
At gatherings in the castle, King Frederic
would proudly display his heir to the throne, the golden boy Eric
on his right and as almost an afterthought the smaller bodied, pale-white
Montfort on his left. Visitors often noted that it seemed as if the
King were seated between a shining summer day and a winter's storm.
But when the call had come from the
high king to go East and save the cities of the Holy Word, he had
found that his second son had no interest in serving any other than
himself, but that was maybe just as well he figured — someone needed
to stay behind and care for the lands and resolve any problems and
keep the castle safe from the ever-present rogues who would harass
the keep and its inhabitants.
So when King Frederic marched off with
Adam at his side and Prince Eric and Marcus behind them, Montfort
peered out from the dark inside the battlement tower at the retreating
column. His smile lowered the temperature of the already dank space.
Seth had rarely seen Montfort since
they were very small and Montfort had been forced by his brother to
run the trails of the forest, but Montfort had seen Seth.
Indeed, now Montfort was watching the
golden boy sunning himself from behind a rotted, lightning fired oak.
Once the inner sanctums of the castle
had been conquered and mapped by Montfort, he broadened his knowledge
to that of the forest, especially the darker places.
He had covered himself with dark green
in the summer or white in the winter to blend in with the cover and
had followed his brother and his friends. He had spied on them and
watched them.
Montfort had seen his brother, the king-to-be,
coupling with the game warden's son. He had seen Seth spy on the two.
And he had watched Seth closely as the boy went through the woods
with his brother and Eric and alone.
Only he knew of the special place that
Seth had made for himself just outside the village in the tree where
he could sit naked and watch the young men of the village come and
go.
Only he knew of that stubby limb that
had been cut and polished in that special place where the young Seth
could lower himself and sit on the branch looking as if he would fall
but in fact held attached to the branch itself by nearly a foot of
sturdy, polished oak entering into his rear.
Only he knew of the long hours spent
by Seth on that wooden impalement stroking himself time and again
until his never softening root could spill no more seed.
And he had seen his father and Adam.
He had seen the three boys try to follow the two men only to lose
them, but Montfort had not. He had followed along in hiding, blending
in with the woods and trees, walking stealthily along as he had learned
in the castle.
One must be very silent to peer through
the holes in the stone walls and watch servants coupling, knights
teaching their boys the manly art of inserting their spears in the
boy scabbards, or the king laying naked on his bed stroking his manhood
until its seed covered his body and he cried out the unspoken names
that only Montfort knew.
Montfort had often crept close enough
to hear them talk of the affairs of kings and game wardens and of
the other things that they shared between them — the things that went
unspoken outside that quiet glade in the deepest forest. And he had
watched them as his father, the king, was rutted like a cheap whore
crying for more.
Only he had impaled himself on that
same limb and savored the intense intimacy of sharing so private a
space and deed. And when he had finished spilling his own seed, he
would pull himself from the wooden plug and urinate on it and the
surrounding leaves that made up the hidden canopy and receptacle for
Seth's seed.
Montfort felt only hate for the beautiful
boy — and the boy's brother — and his own brother.
He felt the same hate when he saw his
father, weak and helpless under the ruttings of the forest warden,
begging for more man-spear, and then seeing his father swallow the
sword of this forest outcast and fill his belly with his common seed.
For the two years since the army had
set off to the East, Montfort had spent much of his days spying on
the golden boy of the woods. He had enjoyed hearing how the legend
of the monster in the woods had grown to include the mutilated bodies
of the monster's victims.
The golden monster had indeed scared
the villagers away from their poaching, but it was not the golden
Seth that had trapped the poachers before they found their way back
to the village and had taken them into the castle by one of the many
secret entrances that opened even in the heart of the forest.
It was not the golden monster who knew
the dark pathways without even the blessing of a candle or torch so
well that the frightened poacher felt he was being taken into the
bowels of hell by Satan himself. And maybe he was.
There, in the dark spaces far below
the castle they found themselves in a room straight out of Dante's
Inferno — if they had been educated enough to be able to read. Kings
of the past had depended long on fear to keep order, and few things
brought fear into the mind as well as a torture chamber with engines
that could break any and every bone or reduce a strong man to pulp
while keeping his mind alive and shrieking in pain.
There were cells to keep the condemned
and rings and pulleys and spikes to hold them in place on every wall.
And all had been in sad repair, unused for maybe a hundred years behind
doors long sealed and forgotten by generations of kinder and gentler
rulers.
But each device, each piercing spike
and cell lock had been patiently refurbished and repaired and made
stronger than it had been when it was new. Each engine of human destruction
had been rebuilt with new wood and the gears cleaned and unrusted
and well oiled. Some were even improved to fit the even more devious
mind of the newest master of the dungeon.
He had first been a solitary Master,
but he had now been joined by three men dressed in black who had entered
in the depth of the night with their four, secret bundles.
They had traveled by night for nearly
a month with their purchased prizes, and they, too, had been purchased
by Montfort to deliver his property and to remain in his service,
slaves to him for life — his or theirs.
Each had been sold as a small child-slave
into the service of the Eastern minor king, and each had been nursed
on the breast milk of torture victims and weaned on the screams of
dying men. Each had enjoyed the scraps of tossed and wasted dungeon-meat.
Each had learned his craft of keeping victims alive for long periods
of time or snuffing out a life instantly depending on the orders of
the Master. Each had been branded upon purchase and gelded on his
eighteenth birthday.
Their price had been included in the
exorbitant package that Montfort had secretly traded for, and they
had entered, hooded carrying their stunned bundles, into the tortuous
passageways of the dungeon below the castle from which they would
never emerge. But they had been kept busy in their trade. Montfort's
desires were seemingly insatiable.
The poachers had not been the first
to visit the castle keep. Much of the reign of terror of the three
naked elf-wraiths was not their doing but was in part due to visits
to the hidden dungeon by Montfort and some lost traveler or kidnaped
youth.
The deep recesses of the castle had
many corners and places where the bones of newest victims would be
placed with those stacks of the oldest. But seldom did the body have
any resemblance to the youth or traveler or poacher who had first
entered into the hidden passages.
Since King Frederic had gone, it had
been the duty of Montfort, now Prince Montfort, to tend the castle,
and the castle keep. And he had taken delight in exercising his control.
And he had taken delight in making the villagers fear the wraith of
the woods, the wraith they had long suspicioned was the warden and
his sons.
Rumor of disappearances had now been
replaced by mutilated bodies on the trails at the edge of the village,
of heads dangling from branches, of bodies with their manly organs
removed, sliced apart or put into the open mouth of the head.
More than one morning found the empty
pallet of some missing young man who had not been old enough to go
on the march with the men but who had now grown of age. And on the
next rise of the sun, he would be returned looking as if he had been
turned inside out.
There had been a march to Montfort when
the body of Andrew, the son of the village chief, a loyal man who
had gone with King Frederic was found scattered about the village.
He had disappeared. There had been fear,
but the boy was now a young man and it was known that he had taken
a liking to a maiden in a nearby village. They assumed that he had
slipped off into the night to bed with her.
But after a week without his return,
his worried mother had sent his younger brother to fetch him only
to find that he had not been there. Another week went by before they
village awoke to the screams of the chieftain's wife, the boy's mother.
On a fence post by their cattle pen
was the young man or, at least, she believed it to be him. It was
a naked torso, gutted and emasculated. But as the other villagers
came from their huts, they found parts of the boy's body. His fingers
had been severed joint by joint, his toes had been severed before
his bones were crushed and then removed.
When they found the head, it had marks
about the part of the neck still attached to it that showed that the
body had been hanged. It was clear that after much torture and flaying
with whips and other instruments of horror, the young man had been
hanged, drawn, disemboweled, and finally quartered, bit by bit.
His manhood had been opened and his
globes smashed and ripped from his body while his man-spear had been
quartered while still attached and then each piece pulled from his
living torso.
His slime-dried intestines had been
draped from the doorway of his mother's house. The boy's parts had
been gathered, even the eyes from the empty sockets had been scattered
in the village. But the boy's sac had not been found.
The villagers had stormed to the castle
after the funeral led by the grief stricken mother and the younger
brother. They demanded that the forest be ridded of the wraith.
Montfort had promised them that the
forest would soon be safe. They took little notice of the small, stuffed
pouch that hung from his neck filled with stones to stretch it while
it dried.
Only he had slipped to that spot after
the boy left and smelled his muskiness, touched the dark stains on
the wood from his fundament, tasted the polished wood, put his tongue
to the leaves spattered white with the drying spunk of the randy young
Seth.
Montfort now moved silently from his
space behind the tree. Seth still soaked up the sun and was unaware
of his observer's presence.
Montfort moved along the sodden path
in the dark of the forest and slid into the hollow of an old tree,
too old of a tree to not have rotted long ago. He pulled a root in
the middle of three others and the bottom of the hole fell away, and
he dropped down into the black passageway. He needed no light.
He did not have much time. He knew the
young man would soon rise and go about his way. How stupid to be so
routine! He knew that the boy would spend the late afternoon near
the village, watching the young men.
How Seth must have missed the chief's
son! The two had begun walking in the woods together last year and
had often swum naked in the pool and sunning and holding each other
and tasting each other and touching each other and filling each other
with man seed and sword.
How Seth must miss those times together
with Andrew — in the afternoons or the times in the evening when his
family thought him attending to a young maiden actually spent in the
warden's house in Seth's bed long into the night.
But Seth would soon find out where the
boy had gone. Seth would soon find out more than he would ever wish
to know. And the golden wraith of the forest would soon be gone.
But Montfort doubted that the wraiths
deeds would stop. Controlling the people was much easier if they had
fear in their guts. And it was more enjoyable for Montfort to put
it there.
Running through the dark tunnels, knowing
instinctively when to dodge right or left or to go up a ramp or down
some steps or when to jump a pit for the unwary, Montfort made quick
time. He would have to get the slow moving guards to the village in
short time, and they seldom moved fast.
The slower witted were left behind,
but then Montfort did not mind. They were too stupid to be curious
of his comings and goings and disappearances, and they followed orders
without question — removing the skin from one of their backs with
a lash had seen to that.
Seth sat up. He had a strange feeling.
He had it often in the woods. You didn't learn to survive here without
developing another sense. He often felt something or someone was near
to him and maybe watching him.
But no matter how hard he looked, he
had never found anything, though he had seen tracks a few times, but
they skillfully disappeared in just a few steps. Whoever it was wore
no shoes in order to be silent.
But now the feeling had gone. He was
alone. He felt good after his afternoon's sleep. Maybe tonight Andrew
would come to his house and crawl into his bed. It had been so many
weeks now.
Andrew had not said that he was going
away, but then they seldom talked. That was not their way. Neither
questioned the other.
He had gone each day to sit naked on
his perch and flex his hole muscle around his oak stub and think of
Andrew and hope that he could see him in the village and maybe that
Andrew would wander into the forest.
But each day, there were only the other
village youths. Some of them also made him hard as the wooden shaft
entering him, but they lacked Andrew's natural grace.
Indeed, Andrew's younger brother William
was identical to his brother at that age, but he had another year
or so before he reached the age when he might choose to run and rut
in the forests with Seth and maybe Andrew.
It would be like Eric and Marcus and
Seth. And when the war was over, maybe all of them could join in running
together. What a band of forest wraiths that would make! How many
villagers could be sent scurrying away at dusk by a band of five,
beautiful, and naked young men.
And when Eric and Marcus returned from
the war, Seth would be able to join them in their play. He was now
old enough to join in. And he would bring Andrew with him. And if
the war went on another year, he would be able to bring William, too.
Could his father's small house hold
so many randy young men each ready to fill the holes and plug the
inner recesses of the other all at the same time? If not, they would
have to build on a room just to hold them all.
Montfort peered into his favorite room.
The slaves had been busy. It was readied. He changed into his regular
clothing. He always enjoyed changing clothing in this room.
And he also enjoyed being naked in this
room. Just as the bronzed enemy had cavorted around the forest naked,
he had slid through the narrow cracks and crevices built into the
castle. And when he had work to do in the dungeon, he like to be as
naked as his work.
He scurried up the stairs and through
the passageway to the door behind the tall hanging in the great hall.
He slipped out of the old door and checked the hall. There was no
one there. He slid out from behind the hanging.
A quick check of the castle found the
guards lounging in the kitchen already talking the cooks out of small
bits of dinner and breads being readied for the meal. And one had
the daughter of one of the cooks trapped in the corner while he attempted
to convince her to let him sample a taste of something a bit more
tantalizing than honey-bread.
They jumped to their feet when Montfort
came into the room. Then, as he turned and walked out of the room,
Montfort said,
"I thought I would find you lazing
about. Grab your swords and come with me. We have a forest to clear
of demons."
"Demons...."
The fear suddenly struck the small
band of guards. How could six guards catch a demon? And what would
the demon do to the six guards?
But fear of Montfort and the vision
of a back covered with scar tissue left by the acting prince made
them scurry for their weapons and drop their assaults on the dinner
and the serving wench. They quickly followed him out the door.
He gave them their instructions. He
told them where to hide. He told them what to look for. But despite
their Lord's confidence, they feared going into the forest.
The wraith of the forest was all too
real for them. They all had grown up with the stories of the innocent
pranks played by the naked elves, the golden wraiths, but the monster
that lurked there had now gone beyond scaring poachers and frightening
little children and old women who wandered too far into the forest.
The wraith had now grown into a deadly
demon that ripped bodies limb from limb and tortured the poor soul
until there was nothing left to feel the pain.
But their fear of the reality of their
Master, Montfort, was more than their fear of the uncertainties in
the forest. Together they might fight the demon of the woods, but
Montfort would take each one, one at a time, and display his displeasure
upon their bodies in an exhibition of pain and suffering for the others.
They hurried about his instructions.
They hurried along the road, over the
fields and to the edge of the village at the edge of the forest. They
then slid silently, as silently as anyone of their ill preparedness
could, and went to the hiding places that Montfort had described for
them. The small hiding spots were exactly as he had described.
They had not been in place more than
a few minutes when they heard a slight rustle in the leaves. Had they
not been alerted to what to listen for, they would have assumed it
to be a rabbit or squirrel, but Montfort had made sure that these
dullards knew what to hear.
A glimpse of gold in the bushes gave
them the confirmation that they both hoped for and feared. Would this
demon rend them in pieces before they could get him back to the castle?
And if it did, then they knew that the worse fate would be theirs
to return empty handed.
Just as the naked youth reached the
base of his perch and put his feet into the worn holes in the bark,
the men sprang forth. They threw the net over him and waited for the
screaming and the shrieking of a demon trapped to subside.
It never came. Instead there was a short
struggle, but the legs and arms of the demon were entangled in the
netting, and it soon lay silent on the ground, trapped in the strong,
rope net.
The men did not want to look the demon
in the eye, but they could not help notice that their prize was not
so fearsome as they had feared. It might be a demon, but it had assumed
the shape of a young man — a beautiful young man — naked and with
a man-sword that outstripped any of their own.
But Montfort had said that the demon
would likely do as much. They were to pay no attention to its beguiling
form or lying voice.
Demons are wily creatures who will
try to lure you into believing their innocence, Montfort had told
them. But if you give in and believe it is a human and innocent
it will assume your own body in its next visitation, and you will
be forever possessed and your souls will rot in hell.
If that had not been enough, they also
knew that their lives would be hell if they returned with anything
less than this demon.
And beware that he does not beguile
you with his endowments, they remembered Montfort's words.
The captain of the guard took his short
cloak and a piece of line and reached into the netting and wrapped
it around the naked youth-demon to cover his threatening weapon.
He feared that it would grab his arm
or suddenly spit poisonous acids on his body as he snugged the cloak
like a breach cloth around the boy-devil.
Seth began pleading with them. He begged
them to let him go. He told them he was playing a game. He told them
he had never hurt them.
"Just let me go, and I will slip off
into the woods," he said.
But they tied the ends of the net together
and made a sack of it and threaded a pole through the holes and put
it between the shoulders of the strongest two of the guards.
They marched out of the woods. The villagers
saw that there was a commotion among the trees. They had been alerted
to something happening when the guards had been spotted, but now they
gathered when the devil in the net was brought forth.
"That's Seth, the warden's boy! Here,
here! What are you doing with him?" some of the villagers shouted.
"Why is the boy only wearing a cloak?
What have you done with his pants, you thieves?" another asked.
"Did you steal his clothes?"
"It's not the boy. The prince has
sent us to capture the demon in the woods — the one who killed the
village boy," the chief guard shouted at them.
"Demon!" a shout came.
"Forest wraith!" another called.
"Kill him!" another shouted.
"Stay back!" the guard ordered as
he raised his sword. "The prince has ordered that we deliver this
evil creature to him personally."
The villagers continued to press around
the men and the netted boy. He was so wrapped in the net that they
could not see him well, but his sun-darkened arms and legs poked through
the net and were entangled.
The color of his skin gave the villagers
a fearsome start. They kept their bodies covered, and when they undressed,
if they did, at night after the sun went down and by firelight from
their hearths. They only knew skin to be white. This demon seemed
to glow with the fires of hell.
"Hit him! Beat him! Grab him! Destroy
the creature!" the shout came from the back of the crowd.
"Remember what he did to the boy!"
The guard reacted with an attempt to
surround the boy, but not before he had been grabbed through the netting
and his cloak partially pulled away to reveal his frightening thick
shaft and testicles. One of the younger boys pointed,
Seth had wriggled just enough that
his donkey-sized cock had slipped through one of the holes in the
netting, and the rubbing of the netting on it had made it start to
grow.
Another shoved her daughter's gawking
face aside so that she would not see it.
Standing in the front of the ring of
villagers, William felt a strange feeling down his back and then a
stirring in his pants. This devil's own sword was truly massive, but
it was not as massive as that of his brother, Andrew, and he had seen
it many times, and he had watched how William enjoyed it, and he had
hidden away by himself and ministered to his own young sword in the
same ways.
This demon's sword now brought those
feelings to him again. His hand reached out to touch it, but it was
slapped back by one of the guards.
"Demon!" a shout came from the crowd.
"What did you do to Andrew?" another
shouted.
"Kill him like he did Andrew!" a shout
came from the crowd.
Seth had begun to struggle partly from
the fear of the crowd and his capture and partly from his own discomfort
at being trussed up in this net and having his legs and arms cramp
from the strains, but when he heard the last jeer, he stopped.
"Andrew!" he shouted.
"See he calls his name!" a villager
sneered. "Maybe he still has his soul."
"Free his soul, you devil!"
William's mother now had a stick and
hit at the bound up boy.
A second stick hit the net as the young
man was trying to explain to the boy he recognized there as Andrew's
brother.
A rock hit Seth in the forehead as
he tried to peek out through the net. He felt his mind grow like the
morning mist.
Another rock sailed at the netted youth,
and then another and another.
Many of the rocks that were hurled at
him were stopped or blunted by the thick net, but others had sharp
edges that found their way through the net and cut him on his shoulder
or thigh. His exposed arms and legs were hit with stone after stone
hurled by the villagers.
His cock that had been growing now shrank
and almost escaped being hit before it slid back to the safety of
his groin and its large head into its hood.
But it was of no use. His man-sword
was struck by an especially sharp piece of flint that sliced down
its side.
The guards now feared their fate when
delivered the damaged goods to Montfort. They hurriedly moved around
and began running with the boy between the two bearers.
Each of the guards had been struck by
stones several times, and they were bleeding but not as badly as the
boy in the net.
Seth's blood streaked the hemp fiber
red in several places, and through his haze, he felt the pains in
his body and especially in his man-sword which bled rather profusely
over his body.
The men slowed their pace when they
were far enough down the road that the villagers no longer followed
after them, but they were anxious to deliver this changeling to Montfort.
They had no idea what he wanted with
it, but they did not want to be caught in the woods or on the road
with it after the sun went down, and it was now late afternoon.
The villagers were abuzz with their
anger. The killer had been captured. They wanted a trial and public
execution, but they also feared the demon's power. If it were driven
out of the body of the warden's son then whose body would it take
over? Or maybe it had destroyed Seth already and had only taken his
form.
William grew silent. He did not enter
into the mob frenzy even though the death of his brother had made
him feel sad for many days now. For some reason he couldn't understand,
when he looked into the eyes of this demon in Seth's form, he did
not see the evil there. He saw only fear and sadness.
And the vision of his man-sword had
stirred something in him that he could not yet understand. He had
asked Andrew about those feelings, and he had always been told that
there would be time enough to understand them. And then Andrew would
slip out through the window and sneak into the night, moving silently
toward the forest. But he was always back before the sun.
Now Andrew was dead, William was alone,
and the feelings were stronger than ever. It had something to do with
this demon in Seth's form ... or was it a demon at all?
William had watched the second son of
King Frederic, the son who had no throne, grow into something that
he feared when he rode through the village or came to talk with some
of the workers. In those eyes he saw the evil of the demon. But he
dared not speak this to anyone.
The guards brought the netted Seth
to the castle just as the sun began sinking beneath the edge of the
forest to the West. They feared being there with this creature when
the sun went down. They believed that any power they might have over
him now, would be lost when the powers of the night were brought to
the rescue of one of its own.
They gladly removed the battered boy
from the net and tied him securely with his hands behind him and his
legs hobbled at the direction of Montfort. Truth be known, the guards
felt much the same about Montfort and the powers of night.
They moved immediately out of the great
hall and back to the kitchen where the smell of game and stew was
rising from the six-foot stone hearth.
Montfort looked at his dazed prize.
"They will pay dearly for every mark
on you," he said. "I wanted you as a perfect participant in my games,
but they have flawed you.
Xxxx"Another
of their sons might be ready for some of my amusement and devices.
I think that the boy Andrew had a brother that was almost as delightful
as he was."
Andrew's name worked its way through
Seth's mind-fog. He began to realize more of his surroundings and
his predicament. He grew fearful, but he realized that he was not
able to get away. His hobbles would let him walk or move, but they
would not let him run.
Seth's mind was still too foggy to formulate
a plan — good or not. He was indeed trapped.
"My brother and the two of you once
tried to show me the forest and all its inner hidden spots. Now
it is my turn to show you my special place, my hidden inner spots,"
Montfort snarled in a serpent's hiss.
xxxx"Let
me show you the places where even God is afraid to enter. Come,
Seth. You will learn to enjoy what I have for you. But maybe you
won't."
Montfort took the naked youth by his
arm and pulled him behind the great covering with pictures of some
long lost or won battle woven into it. Montfort opened the door that
would take Seth into his own battle and his own hell.
The door slid shut behind Seth, and
he heard a lock click in place. Seth was pushed down a stairs. He
stumbled as his knees collapsed, and he felt the hard, cold stone
rise up to meet first his knee and then his chest, and then he slid
down the stones on his shoulder and then tumbled over to slide a few
more on his back.
Seth hit his head, but it soon was back
rising to the top of his balled body, and he slid down a few more
steps into a blackness. He came to rest with his chest on the flat
floor at the bottom of the stairs and his legs splayed out above him
on the steps as far apart as the hobbles would allow.
He heard Montfort padding down behind
him, and then felt him brush against his bare feet.
Fire and pain shot through his body.
His splayed legs had been spread just far enough apart that his male
orbs were flat on a step, and in the darkness, Montfort had found
them and stomped on them with his full weight.
He could mouth no real words.
"There, there, now," Montfort whined
in a laughing, mocking sneer. "You must get used to such things.
You are going to find that you are going to delight me in many ways
over your stay here with me.
xxxx"And
do not worry yourself about disturbing the good people in the castle.
There is nothing that escapes these quarters — not sound, not you."
Montfort removed his foot from the
young man's testicles and Seth balled himself up at the bottom of
the steps.
Montfort jerked him up by his bound
wrists, pulling his arms far back behind him and thrusting his shoulder
painfully forward.
"Now we have a ways to go to show
you to your guest quarters. I am sorry you will not be able to see
where we are going, but I know the way — I don't need any light.
I know every crack in the wall, every pebble, every grain of sand.
xxxx"I
also know the traps that would bring a very unfortunate demise to
anyone who tried to find his way out without me," he chortled.
Montfort pushed and pulled the boy
through one narrow passage after another, sometimes making him step
to the side and slide along the wall. At least one time Seth felt
his toes wrapping over an edge and there was a hollow sound far below
him like running water a long way off.
At another spot, he was told to stand
very still while Montfort pulled some kind of lever or grated some
kind of rock. In the darkness, he could not tell what it was, but
he felt a vibration and a movement, and there he was pushed on in
a direction where their had been a wall only a minute before.
Seth finally saw a flicker of yellow
light ahead from under a door or something. He was pushed toward it
and then stood in front of it. Then another stone grated on stone,
and the door swung open.
Seth had never seen anything like it.
There spread out before him on a level just below him was hell itself.
His mind was assaulted with wooden and metal devices and ladders with
iron rings that appeared to be cuffs — rings that were spiked into
the heavy stone walls — a number of heavy, wooden beams overhead held
rings and pulleys and ropes and some had devices hanging down from
them.
Seth felt a cold, white hand on his
ass. It shoved him forward. He stepped onto the balcony overlooking
the bowels of Hell, and the door closed behind him.
He turned quickly and saw the heavy
wooden door. It held hinges, but no lock that he could see. Even so,
Seth knew it was locked. To release it would take an intimate knowledge
of the dungeon, and longer than he feared he would have.
"You are my guest, Seth," Montfort
said quietly in his ear.
xxxx"I
have entertained many here, and you may hear about them. But I fear
that I am the only one you will hear about it from. They just don't
seem inclined to speak about their experiences after I have tired
of them."
Montfort seemed to be enjoying his
control of this situation and the obvious fear he was creating in
his victim.
An alabaster white figure moved from
around a pillar and walked to the fire-pit to throw on another log.
The pit opened like a great mouth in one stone wall.
Seth at first thought him a kind of
ghost, but he quickly realized that it was a naked male as white as
a sheet — a man having never seen the sun.
A man? Seth realized as he looked at
him that he was less than a man. He had nothing hanging beneath his
rather long and thick cock except a slightly reddened scar running
down and disappearing between his legs.
Still, he looked strong and fearsome
and heavily bulked up. Seth realized he was no match for this icy
white figure if he tried to fight him.
"Paulio will be helping me make this
a memorable experience for you, my fine friend."
Montfort used his hand to push Seth
down the stone incline into the pit, pushing him on his nearly naked
ass with the cloak wrapped around him merely hanging from his shoulders
secured by the rope about his waist.
"You might also find Barnabas and
Silas about the place as well. Or they may find you. They are quite
good at providing memorable accommodations for my guests.
xxxx"I
would suggest you not upset them if I am not here. Their judgement
dealing with problems is not always good, and I would not like to
find they have terminated your stay here without my being present
to enjoy it."
Seth could say nothing. He was still
shocked. He had known Montfort all his life and had found him so lacking
in daring and desire and so isolated from his brother, Marcus, and
Montfort's brother, Eric, in the woods that he had no thought of his
being able to build such a world of his own.
Seth had thought of Montfort alone or
with adults in the castle playing card games and listening to traveling
singers or jokesters, but he had never thought of him as capable of
building such a world of horror and terror as this.
As Seth waddled down the incline, he
looked at each of the instruments in the pit. He saw irons near the
hearth that could be heated. They were in many shapes and sizes that
could be made to fit any hole or burn one of their own in whole flesh.
A wheel that would have come from a
monstrous-sized wagon was on an inverted axle only a foot or so off
the stone floor. He had once seen a deserter and woman violator broken
on such a wheel in the village.
The spokes were far enough apart so
arms and legs could be threaded through and then broken ... or broken
then threaded through the spokes ... far enough apart so cocks
and balls could be tied to spokes and rim and smashed. And at the
center was a bent spike to impale the condemned on to
hold him in place while his limbs were entwined in the
spokes.
From the stains on the spokes and
the stones beneath the device, it was apparent that this one had
been used — and probably used a lot.
A ladder reached up one wall, going
nowhere. It had iron shackles on the rungs. It was obvious
that it, too, was made for threading bodies, not climbing
walls. A table with a round log fixed as a wheel and ropes
and shackles was to one side.
It had numerous openings in the table
top where items could be thrust through the table into the stretched
body on it or dropped from the body downward to be tortured
below it. Next to the table on the wall were a variety of metal
hooks and devices.
Seth had once seen ones like it used
by the king on a captain of his guard who had tried to assassinate
him.
The traitor had been hanged in the town
square until he had lost consciousness, and then he had been stretched
on a table much like this until each arm and leg had been pulled from
its socket.
The fearsome tools had then been used
to remove his orbs from their protection and stretch them until they
pulled free from his body.
The captain's manhood had also been
shredded with them and then removed while one of the sharp hooks had
been inserted between his legs and his intestines had been slowly
pulled out and wrapped around a winch at the foot of the table.
After long hours of screaming
agony, the man died and his body was cut into many parts and fed
to the few men who had joined him in his attempt to take
over the throne.
Afterward, they were dispatched with
more speed either by hanging or beheading after their
male organs had been removed and thrown to the castle
dogs who always gathered for such events.
Seth had awakened many nights after
that screaming himself. His brother would pull him
into his arms and hold the sobbing boy until his
tears were replaced with sleep.
An iron cage hung from a bracket on
one wall. It was not empty. In it was what appeared
to be a dried and rotting body with much of the flesh and muscle
gone.
As the white vision of horror, Paulio,
came toward Montfort and Seth, he reached over to
the hanging corpse and took a knife that had been sheathed
along the side of the body cage and sliced a piece of what
was left of the thigh off and absently shoved it
in his mouth as he walked.
It was apparent that he was used to
feeding from his work as he went about his duties. It
had always been the way of the dungeon slave to take what
he could get.
As he pushed Seth toward the naked
man, Montfort said,
"Take our guest here and show him
to his quarters. See that he is fed and cared for. I will be back
tomorrow night for dinner. See that my guest is prepared
and ready."
Paulio nodded his head intently,
with care to not look his master in the eyes.
Paulio grasped Seth's arm with a lock-tight
grip. He could not have gotten away if he had tried even though he
was strong and quick.
As he was led into the blackness of
the hall leading from the pit, Seth heard the heavy door open and
then close again. He was alone now with this man, these men. His mind
raced to find a way to free himself, but he could not think of a way.
Seth heard a door in the darkness open
in front of him and then he was thrust into a darkness even deeper
than the dark hallway, if that was possible. He hit the floor and
heard the door slam and lock shut.
Seth lay there in the blackness for
a long time. He was naked except for the rag wrapped around him by
his captors. He was used to being naked in the woods, but here he
felt truly naked — and vulnerable. Being naked now seemed something
to fear.
Seth had no idea of time. It had been
close to evening when he had been delivered to the castle. He had
no idea how long it had taken to wander the labyrinth beneath the
castle to this hell. He guessed it was in the middle of the night
but, then, it was probably always in the middle of the night here.
The door opened. The light nearly blinded
him and he cowered in the corner, trying to hide from the three silent
silhouettes that floated in like angels of Satan.
They said nothing as they moved in,
nearly blocking out the light that was now not so overpowering. Seth
couldn't imagine how they could see him in the dark — their eyes could
not be that quick to adjust from light to dark — they must feel his
body's heat.
Seth felt an iron grip on one of his
upper arms then on his other arm. He was jerked up to standing then
forced to the center of the cell. Each arm was thrust up and out toward
the corners by the bulky slave holding it.
The third slave grabbed one wrist and
slipped it into a thick, iron manacle. He used a metal spike to lock
it in place and manacled the other wrist. Then the slaves to his sides
released his arms
Suddenly Seth's legs were jerked up
behind him and held several feet off the ground — he was hanging by
his wrists.
A slave held each leg and the third
one who had cuffed his wrists took metal cuffs and clamped them to
each ankle and locked them in place.
They then released his body.
His feet had been held further off the
stone floor than he thought so when they dropped him, his belly sagged
to just about waist high to his tormentors.
The chains stretched from the sides
of the room, and he found himself strung wide open.
His rag was still wrapped around him
but the upward angle of his legs now bared his sun-gold ass, and his
manhood and orbs hung down below him into the blackness above the
floor.
Seth heard the movement of the three
men around him. He suddenly felt a thick cock touch his face.
A hand grabbed his jaw and jerked it
open with a couple of fingers, and before he could react, the thick
truncheon was shoved in his mouth.
At the same time he could feel another
naked body brush his spread thighs. He felt his hole spread wide.
The fearsome dungeon slave creature used nothing to ease the way,
and with the cool stone, there was no sweat to lubricate his opening.
But as they began assaulting him front
and rear, his sex-sweat and fear-sweat and the natural juices of his
body's interior linings began to make the assault a little easier
to accept. Yet fear kept his hole painfully tight in spite of its
abuse.
The third slave stood next to his strung
body and reached under it to grab his manhood hanging there.
He was not gentle. He first wrapped
his hard calloused hand around Seth's hanging balls. They had cowered
up to his body in fear, but this monster pulled them back down and
stretched them.
Seth heard a chain in the blackness
and suddenly he felt cold steel surround his manhood. A smaller manacle
had been put in place around his sex tools, and a chain hung from
them.
Seth could not scream with his throat
filled with cock. A heavy weight had been added to the chain and dropped
a foot or more to stretch his nuts. It was picked up and dropped again
and again.
The dungeon monster's cock that had
been forced into his mouth was long and thick, but as his throat grew
to take it all, his lips finally came to rest around the base of the
cock.
It was then he felt the lack of hair
and the lack of the loose skin and nuts beneath the cock. Seth had
sucked many long hours in the woods and watched his brother and the
young prince and his father and the king, but he had never thought
about sucking something that had no golden orbs of sex beneath them.
His lips moved over the smooth skin
beneath the cock, and his tongue could almost trace the scar there.
Seth could only think of gelded steers — he had a hard time imagining
that men could actually be gelded too. But they could — as these monsters
proved.
The men seemed to work together, both
shoving at the same time, thrusting forward as if they meant to have
their cocks meet somewhere in Seth's middle. After several thrusts
that way, they would alter their rhythm enough so when the one shoved
in his mouth, he shoved Seth's ass onto the other's cock, and when
that one thrust forward, he shoved the cock in Seth's throat deeper.
The third man contented himself with
torturing Seth's cock and balls with the weight or with the sharp
fire of a leather strap applied to Seth's ass and back. It was all
done without seeming rhyme or reason, and Seth never knew if his nuts
were to be drawn and stretched or if his back and ass were to be set
to fire.
The demon even beat the soles of his
feet until Seth wondered if he would be able to walk into Montfort's
presence when he returned.
When one slave would tire of using Seth's
ass, he would pull out and take the place of the slave in Seth's mouth,
and that slave would take the place of the torturer in the middle
while Seth's ass was again filled with the cock of the slave who had
tortured his cock and balls and back and feet.
His holes were never empty, and he almost
grew used to the taste of his ass juices as cocks were switched time
and again. These men may have had their manly orbs removed, but it
had only served to energize their sexual appetites and angers and
keep them hard and dutiful and at attention, and with no release of
seed, there seemed to be no end to their ability to ravage him.
Seth prayed to fall unconscious, but
the pain was always just below the level that would reward him with
blissful sleep. Each time the gagging of a cock in his throat promised
the reward of unconsciousness, it was pulled out of his throat and
left in his mouth until the fog was worn away.
Seth remained awake and alert for the
hours long administration of torture and rape. These slaves truly
knew their craft. Seth wondered if it were possible to be fucked to
death.
Long after his mind quit trying to time
his suffering, the three stepped away from him. What he had prayed
to stop, did. And suddenly he felt empty. His mind cried out for the
familiarity of the cocks in his body. He caught himself almost crying
out,
Seth hung there splayed out and open
for a long time in the dark. Then he heard a sound behind him. A strange
smell was with the sound of the slave entering. It was food. He realized
how hungry he had become.
He was not released from his spread
bondage, but a piece of smoked meat was placed to his mouth. He tasted
the salty, smoke cure of the meat, smoked in the sweet maple and hickory
shavings hours on end to preserve it in the seasons when the meat
would not stay frozen.
Seth gulped the meat chaw by chaw as
it was held for him. The hunger was soon replaced with a burning thirst.
He thirsted to taste the cold, clear waters that bubbled over the
rocks and moss in the forest, but suddenly his mouth was again filled
with meat — living meat — he felt it twitch.
Seth's thirst was to be slaked by the
living waters of one slave after the other as they emptied themselves
into his mouth until he could swallow no more and the salty and tangy
tasting piss ran down his chin and body and ran down his sway-back
belly to trickle off his belly-button like a piss-stream from a woman's
cunt.
Seth's belly was now bloated from the
meat and the piss. He was then used again. More hours of cock were
forced upon him and in him. He eventually came to accept that he was
to be used like this. He even found that he began to grow and get
hard, and he shot his own juices many times as he was abused, helpless
to resist into the blackness.
The cock in his ass was soon joined
by another as the third tired of whipping his back and tormenting
his cock and balls while waiting for a hole. Seth found he could accommodate
the two with great pain, but he could take them.
Eventually both cocks were replaced
by fingers in ones and twos and then threes and fours. Soon his body
was swinging wildly forward, sheathing the wrist of one of the slaves
massive arms.
Seth's mouth ministrations were made
more and more difficult as the fist inside shoved and jerked his body
forward and back. The image of his body as a hand puppet flashed across
his mind — and it rang true — he was a little more than a Punch or
Judy.
The hand soon began pulling all the
way out of his ass just before it was punched in again. And Seth's
ass began to stay open to anticipate the invader. Seth could even
feel the cool dungeon air rush inside his guts to fill the void before
it was rammed out again.
And then it was over. The shadow-devils
stopped almost as suddenly as they had begun. And Seth hung there
in his chains in pain until exhaustion overpowered him and he fell
asleep.
Seth awakened some time later. He did
not know how long. He noticed he no longer hung from the chains, but
lay in the cold corner on the dank stones, his hands tied by tight
ropes behind his back.
The rag was tied about him, but it had
offered him no protection before, and it offered him little now. It
was wet with the sex juices of his three torturers whose cocks dripped
but not with man seed, and with their piss and his own cum.
His long cock lay limp down his thigh,
and the foreskin tip touched the cold stone. The coldness of the stone,
more bitter with the wetness he lay in, sent sudden chills up his
spine, making his nipples pinch painfully tight.
Seth could feel his own cock had drooled
its sex juices involuntarily while he had been unconscious, but the
stickiness had been partially washed away by another stickiness —
his own piss.
Seth lay there on his side for a very
long time, the cold ache in his ribs and spine and loins and thighs
and lungs almost freezing to death any will to live. And the stones
of the castle keep seemed to scream out in their silence, telling
stories of pain and misery and death down through the centuries. Seth
wondered whether he could actually hear the hard and damp surface
whisper tales of pain and horror as he lay with his head against them.
Seth smelled food. He realized how much
the long night's activities had weakened him. He moved his head forward
in the blackness, sniffing the food. It smelled rank, but also smoked
— it was not as rank as the meat from the night before, but now Seth
also found it too rank to be appetizing, but still, his hunger overcame
him.
His nose touched a bowl which splashed
something on his face. It was acrid and sour piss, undoubtedly from
his tormenters. But next to that, his face touched a piece of something
that felt and smelled like meat.
Seth reached his toward it and touched
it — tasting it before taking it into his mouth, like a fly. It was
barely cooked, nearly raw. Seth felt a chill shiver up and down his
back again and winced as he opened his mouth around it and nipped
it and pulled his neck back and then opened his mouth and shoved his
head forward — drawing on instincts that go back farther than life
itself.
Seth forced himself to chew then swallow
the meat. He suppressed a need to gag at the unfamiliar and gamy taste,
but he made himself swallow — he did not want to die though he knew
he probably would soon. Even so, he did not want to starve to death.
The salty meat made Seth even thirstier.
He forced his mouth to the edge of the bowl and tipped it so that
his lips could touch the bitter brew. He swallowed and then went back
to the meat and ate as much as his lips and tongue could pull into
his mouth. And he tipped the bowl until none of the guards' piss was
left. He rolled away from this miserable feast.
The soft, padding sounds of feet on
stones outside his dark cavern made his ears command his attention.
The castle stones stopped telling their stories. Seth guessed they
would now tell his fate to future victims, but they didn't want to
tell him his exact future.
Maybe they didn't know. Or maybe they
were trying to spare him — or maybe scare him even more. Seth had
never had trouble seeing his own future, but he now saw only the blackness
that surrounded him like a grave, like the belly of some horrific,
Satanic monster.
The door opened to a torchlight and
the shadow of three figures again. Without a word, they swirled at
him like huge bats in a cave.
Seth steeled himself again for their
assault on his mouth and anus and was half-stiff as two of the silent,
dark figures jerked him up to his feet and stood him in the middle
of the room.
Seth held his arms forward and to the
sides, waiting for his wrists to be clamped into the chained manacles.
But instead, the third tormentor took a bucket of icy water and splashed
it over his filthy body.
Seth gasped at the shock. His skin tightened
painfully like he had dived into a mountain lake on a warm spring
afternoon. His mind instantly snapped awake, the spider-webs of mist-thinking
were instantly swept away.
The two tormentors to his sides now
dragged him toward the door. Seth guessed this time they were going
to utilize one of the horrific engines of pain and destruction he
had seen in the main room when Montfort had brought him into the dungeon
last night, yesterday, the day before ... whenever it had been.
As they entered the central room, Seth's
eyes had to get use to all the light — there were torch sconces all
around the room and a roaring fire in a fireplace as large as many
huts the villagers lived in. The fire burned hot but the air was still
cold.
There was Montfort, seated in the center
of the room behind a large, frightening block of oak heart-wood on
legs in the center, between Montfort and Seth — the kind the butcher
used..
(click on picture for larger image)
Montfort had been drinking and had
a goblet of wine in his hand. He was obviously feeling the heady intoxication
of wine and power.
Seth's heart sank as he realized there
was no hope. And as he studied the table, Seth saw rings imbedded
into the sides and corners.
He knew what the rings were for — to
secure an unfortunate piece of living, human meat for the butchers
axe. But a large stake that had been driven into a hole in the middle
of the table-sized block confused him.
The guards walked Seth over in front
of it, to stand between the fire and the butcher's block. The fire
toasted the back of his legs and arms and made the rag covering burning
hot in back while the front of his body tightened with cold fear.
"Come here, boy," Montfort ordered.
Before Seth could step forward or be shoved
ahead by the dark guard who had dragged him here, Montfort stood and
stepped around the block. Already sweaty, Montfort swaggered around
the table the way only a man happied by wine can.
Montfort stood in front of Seth and
looked him up and down then suddenly shoved his hand forward and grabbed
the boy by his manhood, pulling the loose loin-rag together in an
obscene cod-piece.
(click on picture for larger image)
Montfort jerked the boy toward him
and the block. As he closed his hand down on Seth's manhood and tender
orbs, Montfort hissed,
"You will never know how much you
have made me suffer, you damned forest brat. For all of my life,
you and your brother have been held up as examples for me. Your
father is an enchanter. All of my life he has had my father under
his spell.
xxxx"My father blamed me for the death
of my mother when I was ripped from her womb into this world. And
my brother, the simpering fool, he is not fit to be the king. He
is soft. He fell under the spell of your brother, beguiled by him.
He had no interest in finding a wench who would bear him sons and
preserve the kingdom. Your brother enchanted him like your father
did mine.
xxxx"And you ... you ... you inherited
the power to curse a man's soul from your father, too. When I was
young and was taken into the forest to play with you beguilers,
I found myself drawn through some trickery and mystery to you. You,
with your golden curls and perfect body, shining in the sun. You
began to beguile me.
xxxx"I could not get you out of my
mind. All night long I would lay in bed and try to dream of some
future bride to wed, to be sent to her son-less father for acceptance
to wed her and take over a rightful place as ruler — the first,
not the last. But all I could think of was you and the sun on your
golden curls and the smooth flesh and beguiling male flesh even
as young as we were.
xxxx"I prayed to even dream of a village
wench. I stole them in the night to ravish and have as my own, but
I could do nothing with them.
xxxx"You stole my manhood from me.
Only your visage came to my head.... Your visage.... You ... in
a perverted and disgusting manner.... You have stolen my manhood
from me, and now it will be returned.
xxxx"Now it is my time to take back
what you and your family have stolen. Today it shall all be mine.
There will be nothing standing in my way. I shall be king, and I
shall be rid of visions of your naked manhood scorching itself into
my mind and my body."
As Montfort talked, his hand squeezed
Seth's cock and balls. Seth's balls had been tenderized far beyond
any play had ever taken them. Now they were being crushed will simultaneously
being ripped from his body — or so it felt.
The pain was so great it brought tears
to the young man's eyes and his knees buckled as he tried to relieve
some of the strain of the pulling. Montfort's strong grip was so tight
his hand almost shook from the strain. And as he squeezed, he also
rolled the smashed orbs from side to side, agonizing new nerves, giving
tired of screaming nerves a rest so they could be assaulted
anew.
Seth whimpered as he prayed under his
breath with trembling lip that they would not be ripped from his body
by this evil man he had once known as a friend.
"Please, sir. I meant you no harm,"
Seth whimpered.
"Harm!?! Of course you meant me harm.
You meant to destroy our kingdom — you and your father and brother.
xxxx"But
that shall not be. My father and brother were weak and could not
see what was happening. But I am strong. I resisted going to you
and falling under your spell. I resisted your powerful magic. And
today I will break your spell for good."
"Please, Sir Montfort, friend! Don't
you remember the good times we had? Please, let me go. I will do
anything for you. I will serve you in any way."
"Silence! Enough of your soft words
— your Satanic tongue. I close my ears. I will not be tricked this
time. I will be rid of your accursed spell. I will silence you."
Montfort released his grasp on the boy
and grabbed the covering rag, ripping it off and throwing it to his
lackey.
"Here, put this in his mouth so he can
not cast his spell over me — or you — with his words," Montfort ordered.
The man jumped forward and took the
rag and grabbed Seth's jaw, squeezing his mouth open and shoving the
filthy rag into the boy's mouth. He wrapped the tie-cord round the
back of Seth's head and tied it in place.
Seth tried to mumble another plea to
Montfort, but no words came out — just gurgles.
"Tell me, boy, did you enjoy your
stay here so far?" Montfort asked mockingly.
The idolized young man answered from
behind his gag with tears as he now stood completely naked in the
middle of the stone chamber.
Montfort again grabbed at Seth's organ,
digging his fingernails into it like eagle's talons while tugging.
It was all Seth could do to stand as his knees tried to give out from
under him.
(click on picture for larger image)
"These men are well trained and practiced
in their arts.
xxxx"They are mine. I own them. They
came to me from the realm of the Turks where they were trained in
the arts of breaking evil spells — and evil men, like you.
xxxx"Did you enjoy their visit with
you last night? They wanted to do so much more, but I want to be
the one to break the spell of your manhood over mine.
xxxx"I am told that they can make a
strong, healthy young man like you live for days and even weeks
— never losing consciousness but begging and pleading till their
voice croaks like a frog for the mercy of death and willing to reveal
every intimate detail they have ever known.
xxxx"And sometimes, they like to just
practice their art just for the sheer enjoyment of watching a young
devil-god like you pray for death.
xxxx"I purchased them along with other
treasures which they delivered to me a few months ago. My other
treasures are mere baubles, but they impress my lords and ladies.
But these men — they are my true treasures. And I share them with
very few. You are indeed fortunate that I share them with you."
Montfort snorted at his sarcasm then
continued, lightly stroking the face of the dungeon slave closest
to him,
"I am told that they were selected
as young boys. Their parents sold them into the service of their
trainers where their tongues are burned out of their mouths so they
can never cry out for mercy or tell anyone of their work."
Seth now realized why they had said
nothing the whole time they had used him. Only now did it seem strange
that they had not said anything. When they were torturing him, he
had not given their muteness even a momentary thought.
Seth attempted to scream into the gag
in his mouth again as his swollen and pained testicles and penis were
again clawed and ripped and twisted and squeezed by Montfort, stretching
them even further from his body and, agonizing Seth's internal cords
beyond anything they had ever felt before.
"They are well trained in the arts
of the body and of pain. Each has passed the ultimate test, I am
told. Each has kept a charge alive for a month — without rest, without
the blessed relief of unconsciousness — fully feeling the agonies
of every portion of his anatomy — even when that part has been removed.
I am told that they are tested on their fellows — young men who
did not pass their tests. You see, that gives true incentive to
perform well. Agree?"
Montfort paused, like he was expecting
Seth to agree with him. Seth just breathed hard, trying to bear his
pain.
"And now I am the owner of three of
these trained tools. They have brought me great enjoyment. And they
have brought you to great scorn and hate."
Montfort paused and grinned.
"How, you ask? I will tell you. You
will find this most amusing. Your friend in the woods from the village,
poor Andrew. Yes. I am afraid he was not torn apart by some devil
of the forest.
xxxx"No. He was my guest. I entertained
him — quite royally. Or should I say, he entertained me. You see,
it was for my entertainment that these artisans were allowed to
practice their craft on him.
xxxx"But, then, it was for his salvation.
I had to purge the devil from him so he would not go to hell. Wouldn't
you agree, it is better to suffer for a few hours or a few days
than to burn forever in the flames of hell?"
Montfort snortled self-righteously.
"He had fallen under your spell, too.
I saw him sneaking out of his window and into your arms many a night.
Now his arms will hold you no more. He is in the arms of Jesus now.
xxxx"And
your power has been weakened with his death. You no longer can draw
on his young strength to embolden your evil magic. I think you will
be glad to hear it was a good death. It took a very long time. I
enjoyed it greatly.
xxxx"His senses were surely overloaded
with sensations, but not many were pleasurable, I am afraid. He
screamed so when his skin was removed from his body and his body
was dropped into a salt barrel and covered well.
xxxx"It did make for salty strips of
jerky meat. I have learned to preserve the flesh of my foes well.
But then you already know that, don't you?"
The smell of the meat he had eaten
earlier again met Seth's senses. He felt his stomach knot and begin
to gorge up, but the gag stopped anything from being released. He
gagged and almost choked on his own stomach juices and the meat that
he now realized had been human.
"I believe he has a brother who might
also provide me with some entertainment. But he is already being
watched. When people believe the wraith has been destroyed, they
will become complacent again. Then I shall enjoy his agonized demise
too.
xxxx"It is a shame you will not be
here to enjoy him with me, but I would not risk your enchanting
me any longer. But maybe you will be here — not for you to enjoy
him, but for him to enjoy you. Like you enjoyed his brother. Maybe
I will let him savor your meat as you did his brother's.
xxxx"Maybe
I will tell him you helped consume his brother's meat and see if
he does not learn to enjoy yours for its sweetness like no other."
Montfort paused and stared into Seth's
face with the cruel interest of a cat intently watching a mouse skewered
on its claws.
"I am told these trained artisans
have been known to stay hard and ready enough to actually give continual
perverted pleasure to a man for days on end."
Montfort leered then grinned a toothy
grin — one that could be friendly if circumstances were different.
"But then, I am also told, after a
period of time the pleasure actually becomes agony. Can you believe
that, my beautiful young devil-god?"
Montfort feigned an incredulous amazement
at such an idea.
"I am told it is possible to actually
fuck a man's holes enough that he begins to bleed — and continues
to bleed until he eventually dies. He is fucked to death.
xxxx"Do
you think that's possible? Fucked to death? I'm not sure someone
whose hole is as experienced as yours.... Maybe? Maybe not? Should
we find out?"
Montfort shoved his hand between Seth's
thighs, his middle finger curled to probe the quivering pucker. He
grinned into Seth's face.
Montfort shoved his middle finger in,
quickly followed by his pointer and ring fingers, scrunched together
like a tripartite phallus.
Montfort spread his fingers, making
Seth gasp. Then he suddenly yanked his fingers out. He squeezed Seth's
mouth open with his clean hand and wiped each shitty finger off in
Seth's tongue. Seth tried to bite, but Montfort pressed his cheek
between his molars with his thumb. Seth just couldn't force himself
to bite through his own cheeks to nip the nauseating Montfort's shit-coated
fingers.
Montfort chuckled at Seth's consternation
and growing doubts of his self-worth. He tilted his head back and
looked down his nose at Seth's tear-filled eyes as he reached for
Seth's cock and balls again with his newly cleaned fingers then withdrew
his other hand from Seth's face, but not before stroking Seth's soft
cheek with his thumb then slapping his face, snarling,
"Trying to beguile me with your charms,
wraith!"
He thumbed Seth's cock out of his grip
then squeezed Seth's orbs hard, digging his fingernails into them
then squeezing them back and forth like marbles in a draw-pouch.
"Or maybe you would like to see some
of the devices my accomplished artisans brought with them — ingenious
instruments that strap on."
Montfort took hold of Seth's cock with
his free hand and stroked the head with his thumb, playfully pulling
the foreskin back and tickling the frenum, slowly stroking one side
and under the flaring head, then the other side, again teasing the
super sensitive skin under the flare.
"With such devices, they don't have
to be hard. Despite their renowned endurance, I imagine they could
rub themselves raw — and that wouldn't do, now would it?"
Montfort snorted as he simultaneously
tickled under Seth's cock-flare tenderly with one hand and squeezed
Seth's orbs so hard with the other hand that one squeezed free.
"Besides, these devices are designed
to create very interesting agonies when inserted into the body.
Maybe your body?"
"Eventually you will be reduced to
begging for a quick death, any death. Can you imagine such pain,
my beautiful siren? That you would beg for the release of death?"
Montfort let go of Seth's cock and
playfully tousled Seth's hair.
"You can't? Yes ... such pain is beyond
most men's imaginings. But it exists. But don't worry, my boy. You
will learn. You will beg. You will plead. You will pray. But to
no avail. My minions are not to be your liberators from this life.
It is up to me to break your spell over me and rise to my rightful
place. You will take this curse from me and bless me when I finally
grant you death, my tool of Satan's desires. You will. Do you understand
that?"
As he said this, Montfort jerked down
hard on Seth's scrotum. Seth thought he could feel something inside
give way, a testicle ripped from it's cords. Seth tried to scream
through the gagging cloth.
"You are the last bewitcher that must
be taken care of. Today it will end. From today on I will be free
and this kingdom will be free of your family's control."
Montfort grinned, loosening his grip
and staring Seth in the eye as he shouted,
Montfort looked over to the dark men
who immediately jumped forward and grabbed Seth's bound arms. They
reached up and grabbed a rope that was fed through an eye in the wood
beam above them and pulled the other end, bringing Seth's arms high
behind him and forcing his chest over painfully.
As his three men went about their work,
Montfort chortled,
It was obvious that they knew what
to do and had done it before many times. They had no need for the
speech they could not utter if they had wanted.
The other two picked up Seth and moved
him closer to the block of wood. They each grabbed a leg and chained
it to rings just above the block's legs. When Seth was secured, they
picked up a wide leather strap with cords on each end and put it around
his exposed ass cheeks, tying the thinner leather cord ends to the
rings at the top of the block.
Seth's legs and thighs were squashed against the table, and his manhood
now rested on its top, looking more like a lump of meat than some part
of a man's body.
(click on picture for larger image)
As he grabbed a handful of leather cords,
Montfort chortled,
He took the first cord and tied it around
Seth's still bruise-reddened scrotum and pulled it hard across the
top of the table. Montfort stretched Seth's balls nearly to the peg
in the middle of the table. Montfort wrapped the leather string round
the peg and knotted it, holding Seth's large, manly orbs right where
Montfort wanted them — for whatever fun flitted across Montfort's
evil imaginings.
Montfort took another cord and tied
a slip knot in one end. He grabbed Seth's cock and slid Seth's foreskin
back with his thumb and slipped the noose over the head of Seth's
organ. Montfort pulled it tight with bemused concentration, like he
was tightening the noose round the neck of a man he was about to hang.
Montfort tightened the knot till Seth's
glans was smooth, shiny purple. He stretched the cord out toward the
peg, pulling Seth's cock like a fat, down filled comforter over the
young man's fleshy nuts on the table. Montfort chortled then pulled
the cock cord to the side and tied Seth's cock out of the way.
Montfort winced his eyes, showing some
of his hate — a hate that Seth had never known in any man before.
Seth's fear of what was inside Montfort almost overcame the pain of
his strappadoed arms and agonized organs. Montfort motioned to his
men and they moved up his chair to the table. Montfort sat and looked
at the bound and helpless youth. A self-congratulatory smile crossed
Montfort's lips.
BAM!
Montfort slammed fist came down on the
tied nut-sack on the table. The helpless sylvan boy-god jumped despite
his bindings.
(click on picture for larger image)
And as he jerked, his arms nearly popped
from their sockets, straining if not spraining ligaments in both shoulders
and elbows.
BAM!
Montfort slammed his fist down with
all the fury of the high justice's gavel at the trial of some infidel
tried for treason. Seth tried to scream, but nothing escaped through
the gag.
BAM!
Montfort slammed his fist a third time
into the poor boy's swelling, shiny purple-black generative orbs.
Seth would have fallen to his knees, vomiting, had he been able.
BAM!
Again a wave of unimaginable pain jolted
through him. The chest-crushing pain was almost continuous now — throbbed
even more intense with each increasingly rapid throb of his heart.
BAM!
If possible the pain now seemed to be
less. Seth realized what was there inside his pouch was being numbed,
probably destroyed. They would likely never be the same — if he was
ever released to find out. But, then, Seth knew he would never be
released — except by death.
BAM!
Time and again Montfort's fist pounded
down into the helpless boy's testicles. The waves of pain became different
— worse and not so bad all at the same time — a continual churning
of his guts inside his generative orbs.
Seth's eyes were full of tears, making
it hard for him to see his nuts being smashed beyond recognition time
and again. His mind was floating away from his body, seeing what was
being done to him in a detached manner, while at the same time feeling
all the heart-crunching pain coursing through his body.
Seth no longer felt the individual strikes
anymore. They came as one mass wave of pain washing over him, churning
his body in the roil.
Seth's consciousness nearly freed itself,
but Montfort seemed to sense when he was about to lose the boy to
blessed blackness and stopped, giving him time to recoup.
"I have searched long and hard on
how to break your spell over me, Satan's spawn. I have visited with
many learned seers, and I am told that to just kill you will not
do it. To just torture you to death will not break your spell over
me. I am told I must become one with you and take your powers into
me. Then your powers will be mine. I must consume your power, your
source of power."
Seth was confused. He had no idea what
Montfort meant. He could not understand what Montfort meant by all
this talk about powers and spells, and he certainly didn't know what
could be the source of his supposed powers.
His father had never spoken of any such
power. He had seen the king and his father and his brother and Eric
together many times, and it had never seemed that anyone was under
any spell of any kind. It only seemed that they enjoyed each other's
company, laughing, joking, playing and touching and sharing of their
bodies. There seemed to be no spell or binding other than the love
of men for each other.
Yet Montfort imagined something else.
Seth feared Montfort's imagination now more than he feared Satan and
the fires of hell.
"Soon I will possess your family's
powers — all of them. I already possess the power of your father
and brother. I wager you didn't know that, devil-boy. I possess
your brother's and father's power. And now I will have yours and
be done with it."
What did he mean? Seth looked down
at Montfort sitting there at the table talking to his swollen and
pained nuts as if they were a person.
"Did you enjoy the meat this morning?
You should have. You have sampled that meat many times before last
night. How many times have you sampled your brother's flesh in your
disgusting perverted rituals? How many? Now you have now eaten of
the unholy communion both of your brother and of that fool in the
village."
His brother!
"And I shall take your body and blood
for communion long after your death. I now own your brother's power
as I do your father's. I consumed them as I shall you."
Montfort brought his knife out of its
sheath at his belt and skillfully brought it downward and into Seth's
scrotum stretched across the table. Seth screamed through his gag.
Montfort set the knife into the wood after having sliced through Seth's
flesh above his trapped nuts — the flesh that was stretched taut by
the leather cords. The knife slid between the two internal cords but
trapped the long strand of flesh to the table.
"Your father's power is mine, can't
you tell? As well as your brother's. Those stupid fools marched
off to fight and did not know what stood in their way. All those
men who followed my father and brother to war — they were all fools.
Those that were not killed were captured. Those not sold into slavery,
I am told, were given to torturers to practice their trade. And
those who had a price that could be paid for them were imprisoned
and held.
xxxx"Your family should have been sold
or slaughtered, but my foolish father was under their spell. He
promised he would pay their ransom, too. He wrote back here for
me to send the money to free them all. But through my sources I
found if I sent even more money I could have them delivered to me
with no fanfare — so no one knew but me and my most trusted aids
— delivered with these fine, trained artisans who have provided
mo so many hours of enjoyment and have given me a power my father
never knew existed — the power of fear over the people.
xxxx"They brought all of them to me
— the four tied and bound and naked under the ministrations of my
new slaves — my father, your father, my brother, your brother. And
now all their power is mine. See, there, that iron cage where the
men hack off pieces of salted meat? Do you not recognize that visage
as his royal highness?"
Montfort laughed.
"I have found that how wonderfully
a skinned and salted king can provide many hours of entertainment
— and many meals. Father suffered so. I wish I could have said I
was glad to see him finally die, but I was not. I really wanted
him to suffer so much longer.
xxxx"And my poor brother ... he thought
he would be king some day. But how could a king be under the spell
of some woodland wraith? He would never know a wench and have sons.
He was weak. I enjoyed the many hours of torment that I gave him,
but it was a small return, really, for the many hours of derision
I suffered from him.
xxxx"He would not break for days, though.
He told me how I was weak and would never make a king because I
did not go into the woods with him to be beguiled by your father
and brother. Can you believe that! He said I was weak because I
could resist your spell. Because I was strong. He tried to turn
the world upside down and make weak strong and strong weak.
But I showed him. I would not succumb to your charms, your family's
spell, as he and my father had. And I would save them from the fires
of hell by purging them of their sinful submission to the charms
of Satan here on earth. I made him suffer. I made them all suffer.
That is the only way I could save them. The only way I could save
myself. And now I will save you, my enchanted wraith."
Montfort looked up away from the bound
and swollen nuts and into Seth's downcast face. Montfort's rage that
had been there before had been replaced with a maniacal gleam — in
the eye and tooth.
"My dear brother, the crown prince,
took so very long to die. And I made sure every moment was one of
utter agony for him. An agony that purged the sin from him and may
have allowed him to enter the blessed presence of our Lord, though
he never thanked me for it while he was alive. His body was sliced
and healed so many times that it was hard to tell if there was any
part of him left without scars. I really could not find any.
xxxx"He was a truly piteous creature
by the time his man-sack was opened enough to allow an hourly salting
of his generative orbs — with large chunks of rock salt. They took
so very long to melt , and when I grasped his sack and squeezed
the orbs inside, I ground the undissolved stones into them. They
produced such wonderful pain as they tore into his useless balls
— a pain that you have yet to experience."
Montfort filliped Seth's doubly trapped
orbs, snorting a wicked laugh.
"The small slits in his manhood were
also filled also with the salt rocks. My royal brother screamed
so very loudly when I let my new slaves take his royal manhood in
hand and get it royally hard and work it to a royal conclusion.
His royal fluids were even royally red from the abuse."
Again Montfort filliped Seth's testes,
snorting that wicked laugh.
"I am not sure which one of my slaves
it is now, but one of them enjoys taking the manhood of others into
him — not that it matters what he enjoys, but he did enjoy taking
my royal brother into his fundament and working it in and out vigorously
while the salt rocks tore at the inside of his cock flesh.
xxxx"And after a number of the rocks
had been inserted into my royal brothers royal piss opening, my
dear brother cried most unroyally. He was so weak, and yet he had
called me weak. He too weak to know how to truly rule. He was too
weak to resist your brother's wiles.
xxxx"But I am not weak. I am strong.
I destroyed him and them. I destroyed them all, and today there
will be nothing standing in my way."
Montfort pulled the knife out of Seth's
scrotum and sliced it upward separating the two halves of the distended
sack. He then took the knife and deftly cut around the skin where
it stretched from the body being careful to not cut any large blood
vessels.
As soon as the skin was released from
the body, Seth felt a release of the pressure that had kept him bowed
over so well. But as he looked down at his manhood, he saw that the
cords that held his nuts to his body were all that remained.
Montfort then cut the skin away from
behind the trapped testicles so that nothing was between the boy and
the tied nuts except the cords and some gray matter — the two testicles
were still covered by the trapped, glistening skin.
Montfort's knife slit the surface of
the skin between the bound orbs and they popped free, released from
the pressure that had held them bound together under the skin.
He then cut the skin away from them
so that now Seth was left with a bleeding stump of flesh where his
scrotum had been at his body and his two testicles stretched out on
their stalks and tied to the peg.
Montfort reached to the side of the
table and brought out a fork.
"Pardon my manners here, but I want
to savor these two sources of your power."
Montfort smacked his lips and inhaled
deeply, sniffing the bloody male musk in the air.
"I did this with your brother, I want
you to know, before we salted him and prepared him. Did you enjoy
him? It was his meat you ate last night. I believe it was a part
of his ankle. Or was it his upper foot? There just isn't much there
to consume, but it is more than enough for the likes of a prisoner
such as you."
Seth felt his stomach rising again,
but he fought it down. He had almost strangled the last time he had
brought the rotted meat up. It was not a way to die for him, but then
he did not have many choices, he realized.
"My royal brother was fond of this
royal table. I shared many a royal meal at it here with him. Or
I should say that I ate while he provided the royal meat and royal
entertainment."
Montfort took the fork and jammed it down hard into Seth's right
testicle.
(click on picture for larger image)
The boy tried to scream, but the saliva
and gorge soaked gag kept most of the sound inside still. Montfort
took the knife and split the orb down almost in half and then jabbed
the two pieces again with the fork and sliced it in quarters as Seth
tried to cry and scream and beg for mercy all at the same time. Seth's
upper body jerked, and he felt the pain in his shoulders as more muscle
tissue ripped loose.
"His breasts and nipples provided
a nice snack one meal. They slit off so nicely though they did bleed
a bit. I found that applying salt to most of the wounds did seem
to help them stop bleeding, though rather painfully don't you think?"
Seth wondered at his words a second,
whether Montfort was talking about his own brother or Seth's brother
— or one of their fathers ... or maybe Andrew ... or maybe just any
man? But Seth only wondered a second or two before he was struck with
another wave of torrid pain.
Seth looked down at his ripped testicles
and realized Montfort had thrown a handful of white and milky crystals
on his exposed body parts. As he used the knife to slice one of the
quarters away from the rest and brought the tender organ meat to his
bearded lips, Montfort chuckled,
Montfort chuckled and watched Seth's
eyes as he opened his mouth and let Seth watch. He took the gray and
bloodied piece into his mouth and half-closed them to pull the savory
dainty off the fork. Montfort chewed slowly with exaggerated savor
in his eyes then jammed the fork back into another piece of Seth's
testicle and left it there while he chawed and smacked the piece in
his mouth, watching Seth's face closely.
The still beautiful young satyr could
see what had been inside him crushed and ground and shredded and pulverized
by Montfort's the teeth, blood and fluids and saliva oozing out with
each slurpy smack. He could almost feel those teeth gnaw and grind.
After what seemed like an eternity, Montfort swallowed the masticated
piece of man-flesh, and reached down and picked up the fork and knife
again to repeat the process.
"My royal brother provided me so many
hours of royal enjoyment here. I almost wish I could trust you to
do the same, but I can not. He was weak, but your devil spells can
not be trusted. I am strong, but I am not going to risk the chance
that you could turn these weak minded slaves. No, my young friend,
you will not live to see tomorrow."
Montfort took the next piece and moved
it toward his mouth. He chewed as before, but this time he talked
as he slurped,
"I finally grew weary of hearing my
brother scream, so I did end up gagging him for his last hours on
earth. By the time I was nearly through with him, his manhood was
an almost unrecognizable chunk of meat, with the cuts and swellings
and weepings from the salt in and on it. And even the slightest
touch to it would bring him into screaming fits of hysteria.
xxxx"He was so weak. It disgusted me
as much as it delighted me. What familial love and sympathy I could
have had for my royal brother fell before my righteous contempt
for his weakness. When I decided to disembowel him quite slowly
right here on this table, he began screaming so uncontrollably my
head pounded with ache. But it was a delicious ache — an ache of
heady power of royal rectitude.
xxxx"My head did hurt from a rather
raucous celebration with the new parish priest before coming down
to my sanctum sanctorum. Wine does that, you know, wraith."
Montfort grabbed his wine goblet and
slurped noisily as he stabbed another quarter and popped it into his
increasingly wine-laxed mouth.
"I could not stand to hear it any
more of that caterwauling. I cut his poor tortured royal orbs and
blunted royal sword from his body and stuffed them into his royal
mouth. They barely fit. Despite his unroyal weakness, his masculine
endowments were of distinctly royal proportions. But then you know
that, refugee from Sodom."
Montfort chawed noisily with his mouth
half open.
"I had to tie the royal endowments
in place, but that did keep my royal brother from screaming as I
slowly pulled out his royal intestines and organs out through his
royal hole and then filled that royal bung-hole with salt and spices
to prepare him for smoking."
Montfort had finished eating the one
testicle and then slit the other into quarters as he had the first.
Seth's screams into the gag must have
been nothing compared to Eric's screams Seth thought, but he could
not help himself. Seth lost control of his bladder and he felt his
water rush downward, but it could not escape with the cord tied so
tightly around his now purple-blue cock-head. It was just another
new pain to add to his agonies. Montfort set the fork aside and reached
his head down to the quartered but still connected testicle. He snortled,
"You must pardon my unroyal manners,
but I do so enjoy this fresh."
He laughed and licked the naked male
orb, rolling it back and forth across the chopping-block,
"But then a king does not have to
beg pardon from his subjects for anything — especially from his
dungeon prisoners.".
(click on picture for larger image)
Montfort tongued Seth's testicle to
his lips and sucked the bleeding and oozing testicle into his mouth
and pressed it against the top of his mouth. Seth's guts churned,
his abdomen quivered, his esophagus fluttered as he could feel Montfort's
attentions to his remaining generative organ.
Montfort sucked at the oozy secretions,
rolling the man-orb side to side to lap every drop. He tongued the
orb between his molars and gently closed down on it, more like a wine
press than a grist mill — to squeeze out all the masculine juices.
The assault was gentle compared with
what had gone before. Seth breathed deeply and slowly, trying to drive
from his mind the reality of what was happening to him.
After a few minutes, though, Montfort
had pressed out all the savory he wanted, despite more pounding into
it with Seth's every heart beat. He bit down harder and harder, chortling
to himself as the hard-boiled-eggy orb flattened and deformed more
and more.
Seth gasped as the pain suddenly returned
with a vengeance, roiling his guts. It was all he could do to hold
his vomit down. Montfort ground his molars back and forth, twanging
his tongue on the stretched muscle and nerve strings still attaching
the orb to Seth's groin.
The pain now surpassed anything Seth
had ever experienced — even worse than the quartering of his other
testicle. His head pounded like his heart was in his skull, his arms
and thighs quivered like an old man's, his throat closed on him like
it was being squeezed from inside, his lungs burned like ice, his
guts churned like a stormy sea, and his testicle screamed in pain
beyond measure.
Despite his determination to go to his
death with dignity, Seth was screaming continuously into his drool
and retch sodden gag. He didn't want to watch, he tried not to watch,
but Seth could not close his eyes — he could only look straight down
on the back of Montfort's head as he felt the slow, deliberate, calculated
grinding of what was left of his masculine orb.
Seth wanted to pass out. He tried to
pass out. But he could not. Then the intense, grinding pain suddenly
stopped. And all that was left was the dull ache of innocence destroyed.
Montfort lifted his head and sat up
then back and snorted,
He forced a burp and wiped his mouth
with his shirt sleeve that wasn't there. He grinned and widened his
eyes like peeled grapes, chortling,
"I already feel your power in me.
I am robbing you of it. And when you have no more, I will have it
all."
Seth drooped his head again, looking
down, seeing that there was now nothing left on the top of the table
where his generative orbs had once been — nothing except for the loose
flaps pieces of skin that had been his pouch that had been partially
cut away.
Seth's cock was still stretched to the side of the table. Montfort
now used his knife to slit the cord and released it.
(click on picture for larger image)
A stream of trapped piss escaped and
ran over the table and down its sides, washing some of the bloody
fluids away.
Montfort aligned his blade carefully
along Seth's shaft and pressed it down. The point was at the base
atop the shaft, and the hilt was beyond the head. The shaft flattened
somewhat and Montfort slid the point downward and into the cock-shaft
and pulled it forward.
Blood sprayed as the blade bisected
Seth's proud cock into two. Seth's spurting blood now washed away
his piss, painting the block bright, shiny red. As he took his knife
and spread the skin away form the shaft leaving the bloodied red gristly
meat standing alone, Montfort gloated,
Montfort tightened his grip on the knife hilt and sliced the cock
crosswise behind the head. He then used his fork to tear a piece of
the gristle meat loose and shoved it in his mouth.
(click on picture for larger image)
Seth was weak from blood loss but he
still felt the pain as the pieces of his shaft were removed until
nothing was left but the head, still attached to the two pieces of
skin.
Montfort again set the fork aside and
bent forward. He tongued the head of Seth's cock to his lips and palpated
it, pulling the head, still attached by thin skin, into his mouth.
Montfort lipped the head between his teeth then pulled his lips back,
twisting his head and looking up to Seth so Seth could see his cock-head
there.
He grinned as his teeth squeezed the
head half in two. Montfort then pulled back and away from the bound
boy's body, stretching the now empty cock-skin to a thin strap of
raw leather. When it would stretch no more, Montfort ground his teeth
back and forth through the skin, slurping at the blood while sawing
through.
Seth watched through watery tears as
the tip of his once proud manhood was ripped away and fressed by this
animal masquerading as a king.
For the first time in his memory, Seth
drew some strength and hope from what a priest had said. A long, long
time ago, he remembered, a priest had preached a sermon about martyrs
fed to beasts in a public square in old Rome. He said they were God's
special children. They would sit at the right hand of Jesus. He said
their bodies were not destroyed because human flesh is not the proper
food of beasts. Surely, Seth thought, he was a martyr. He was being
eaten alive by a beast masquerading as a man. He would be one of God's
chosen.
The comfort was only fleeting, though
as Seth's body twisted involuntarily, ripping loose what little remained
of his shoulder muscles. Seth now hung limp — by the muscles and ligaments
of his arms, his shoulders dislocated.
Seth's thighs and legs were still attached
to the table, holding his knees from buckling and pulling his arms
from his body even more. Seth was beyond reason now. He had lost so
much blood that he seemed to be watching what happened from a distance,
as if he was a disinterested but bemused spectator.
Montfort cleared his throat and laughed,
snapping Seth's mind back to reality.
"You are without power now. I own
your power — all your power. And your father's and brothers devil
powers. And the royal powers of my father and brother."
Montfort placed his knuckles into Seth's
blood and stood, leaning forward. He whispered into Seth's ear,
"I possess them all — all their powers
and charms. There is no one who can stand in my way now. I am the
king, and you can beguile me no longer, Satan's spawn."
Montfort bit Seth's earlobe, drawing
blood. He sucked on it then pulled back and snarled,
The two slaves who had attached Seth
to the table began now removing his bonds. The other released Seth's
shoulders from the strappado. Seth's arms fell helplessly to his back.
Only his golden skin and internal gristle held them in place. Seth
would have collapsed like a rag doll if they had not been holding
him. His body was weaker than he could ever remember it being — even
when asleep it had more muscle tone than now.
The one good thing — if it was a good
thing — he still felt his body. He could still feel his thighs and
legs — even the ache of his dislocated shoulders.
The two who had released his legs laid
him on his back on the table and spread his legs wide. The third who
had released his arms brought a long metal spike from near the fire-pit
as the two each grabbed a thigh and held it tightly.
The third torture slave took the point
of the rod and lined it up to Seth's hole. Seth felt the heat of the
metal that had been so near the fire. It made him shiver — he realized
how cold he had become as his blood drained from his body.
The torturer used his fingers to start
the first few inches of the rod into the hole, easing the lips over
the nonconforming metal. Seth's man-hole had known many invaders before.
But these had all been fleshy — the wooden stump, that he had controlled
himself — it was nothing like this.
He had enjoyed many invaders in play,
but this invader was not tender. It was not thrilling. It was not
passionate — not with love and companionship — maybe passionate with
hate, but not with tenderness. It gave no quarter.
The torture artisan now pushed it in
with more determination, more strong persistence — far beyond what
any of his play partners had ever gone. It stopped for a moment seemingly
caught on something hard inside him.
Seth panted hard. Then he felt it shove
deeper inside. And with it came the next stage of his pain education
— pain again beyond what he even had felt before. The hell-burning
and horrid ache from his manless crotch was now replaced with an ache
deep in his gut more intense than any gut-sickness he had ever suffered
through. This rod kept pushing into him like a soldier's spear, but
so slow he could feel every fold inside his guts it straightened —
or pierced.
Seth's mind fixated on the invasion.
It was his death creeping through him — inward and upward, eating
through his very life guts.
The dungeon slaves knew their art. Inside
Seth were vessels and organs that if pierced would bleed him to death
in a matter of short moments. But the rod slid into him and passed
them without even touching a one them — there would be no quick release
for this man — innocent forest waif or vicious man-eating wraith —
it didn't matter to them. All that mattered was their job — performing
it with artful skill — and enjoying every whimper, every cringe, every
gasp.
With the bending and the probing, feeling
the right resistance — not more nor less — Theothree slaves threaded
the rod passed spleen and liver. But this was the easy part. The difficult
part was now upon them.
Seth suddenly felt it hard to breath.
His diaphragm he had never even given thought to was pressed up against
his lungs so he could not breath down into his belly. He had to lift
his shoulders to breathe. He tried not to, but his body wanted to
live more than his will to die.
The pain from his dislocated shoulders
was intense, but not as bad as the burning fire-ice in his lungs as
he desperately panted. A blinding white flashed through Seth's eyes
as the sharp point pierced his diaphragm and chittered up to the right
of his heart. His throat and chest felt like it was being pummeled
by spiked fists.
Suddenly Seth couldn't breathe even
by lifting his shoulders. His mind looked at his throat and saw the
metal rod blocking his airway. It had ripped and torn its way through
his body, between his lungs, passed his heart. Seth tried as hard
as he could to expand his lungs and was able to suck whiffs past the
filling rod, but not enough to live off of.
Like the dozens of men he had seen hanged,
Seth knew he was suffocating and he would soon die of that if not
something else. He tried to jerk his head, but the two held it and
bent it backward over the edge of the table, opening his jaw and throat
— enough for a breath of air to gasp, beating back the icy fire in
his lungs, perhaps for the last time ever.
Seth felt the rod, now body temperature,
greased with his own fluids, slide into his throat and into the back
of his mouth. His mind was now more outside his body than inside and
he watched from a safely detached distance as the three slaves worked
together. One massaged Seth's throat and held the jaw open as the
second held Seth's tongue with his middle finger and the third shoved
slow and steady from the other end.
Seth's mind-eye watched with amazement as the second torture slave
put his other fingers into Seth's mouth and grabbed hold of the rod-tip
and pulled as the third slave pushed.
(click on picture for larger image)
The second slave's hand emerged with
the rod, wet and shiny from blood and saliva and slime. The smooth
rod was then shoved even harder, and Seth felt it as it was slid through
him enough so there was as much out his mouth as had never been shoved
through him.
The deep breath Seth had managed had
given him enough oxygen that he was not mercifully suffocating, and
as the rod was lifted from the table, Seth found his air passage opening
enough for breath to wheeze through.
Seth's mind floating in air cried for
him — both it and he wished the passage had remained stopped — that
would have made death come easier — without having to will his body
to stop breathing. More than anything, Seth wanted not to breath so
he could die now, but his body lived despite his desires.
The third dungeon slave now moved to
Seth's legs and bound each of them to the metal rod with stout cords
so they could not fall down. The rod would keep his body from bending
at the waist as he was turned.
Seth's detached mind could still feel
his body and it seemed strange to have his entire weight suspended
so. His guts were churning horribly, but he could feel his body's
weight mostly balance on two points — the bones between his hips and
the bones and ligaments between his shoulders.
Seth's body-spasms and the wrestle of
tying his legs to the pole had jerked him around a bit, teaching Seth
to be as still as possible now — any movement brought yet more new
and horrible pains to his living-dead body — so that Seth learned
to feel his every organ inside.
Despite this lesson, though, Seth's
body was shaking — from death-fear he had still not accepted — or
loss of blood — or whatever. The shaking gave him even more pain as
his body vibrated on his impalement.
The dungeon slaves carried Seth's body
over to the hearth. There they set the ends of the pole into stones
that had been prepared for such spittings. A wheel was attached to
one end of the spit to serve to rotate it over the low flame.
One torture slave stood at the wheel
and began his duties as the other two tended the fire.
(click on picture for larger image)
Seth's mind was back in his body again
and could feel the low coals give off heat that rose and lapped around
his body. His head was not over the flame — that would cook his brain
and give him release too soon. So it would not be for a long time
until Montfort was sure Seth could no longer enjoy the delicious pain
he was being given.
The heat rose and washed over Seth,
first sizzling his hair that was at his demanned crotch. The rest
of his light blond body hairs shriveled to tiny black balls and then
fell off, popping as they quickly burned in the fire, giving off a
whiff of stench that many associate with burning heretics at the stake.
But Seth had little body hair, so there was not much stench till Seth's
mane began to sizzle — much delayed because of the sweat and grime
now turning it dirty brown.
Seth's body-trapped mind felt his skin
grow warm. His body wriggled and tried to move away but he was rewarded
with more new pain sensations from deep inside. As his body was turned
over and again, Seth saw Montfort sitting at the table picking through
the bits of flesh left there and the pool of blood. Absent-mindedly,
Montfort stabbed at them with his knife while looking Seth in the
eye. He smiled at the sylvan god he had stolen the power from.
From deep inside, a voice began speaking
to Seth — a voice he had never heard aloud but that sounded so familiar.
He steeled his body to the pain and it suddenly went away. As Seth
was rotated around the fire, his mind could imagine his flesh turn
colors and begin to pucker and blister, but it no longer separated
from his body to look from the outside. His mind just became dimmer.
It was like the sun was going down on his mind — more and more his
senses were leaving him — no pain, no feeling of heat, now almost
no thought.
Seth was dead. Or he should have been.
But somehow his mind did not cease. His consciousness came back. It
was again fed the sensations of a body being slowly roasted over a
spit, of breath struggling to take superheated air into lungs, of
lungs on fire with the desert air that filled it. He should not be
alive.
Somehow there was still some awareness,
something of Seth alive. A spark of consciousness. Seth was no longer
being tortured, being cooked alive. It had all been a dream — a very
bad dream. Instead, he was in the forest. He could see his brother
and father, the king and his son — they were cavorting in the field,
playing, having fun. They saw him. They waved for Seth to join them.
Seth went running.
The spit was set into an upright position
and braced in a hole in the stone floor and against the stone wall.
Seth's cooked carcass sagged but was held on the spit by its still
trussed ankles. His knees were bent slightly, but the rod had fused
with Seth's insides, keeping the carcass from shifting down the pole.
Montfort approached the lifeless body
and looked at it. He opened the covering on his leggings and took
out his male sword and began to stroke it in front of the smoked and
prepared forest god he had so despised in life. The young man's gray-blue,
clouded eyes seemed to be watching him as he stroked it to maturity.
Montfort masturbated himself to climax,
spraying his white seed in globs onto the crackled skin. Montfort
did not pull his cod piece back in place. Indeed, he often wore nothing
in the dungeon, but he also enjoyed the power that clothing held over
his more naked slaves.
He turned to the butcher block table
where the bloodied pulps of Seth's manhood remained stuck in coagulated
blood. He picked up a plate and the fork, and pulled his knife from
its sheath. He walked to the spitted and cooked boy.
Montfort raised his knife to the well-defined
but blackened chest and drew the knife in sawing motions down through
the hardened pectoral meat.
(click on picture for larger image)
A slab of pure muscle, still red inside
with burnt flesh fell to the plate. He turned and went to the table
and sat.
Through a distant fog, Seth felt the
knife saw into his body and the meat fall away onto the plate. Through
some distant fog, Seth saw Montfort move to the table and sit. And
from deep inside, Seth felt something else. He felt a stirring inside
him that was suddenly pleasurable and actually made even his pain
suddenly seem pleasurable, desirable. From deep inside came a voice
that was not his own, but it was that one that sounded so familiar.
"This is my son with whom I am pleased.
Let all who would defile him know the wrath of the all powerful
angel of night. Let any who would defile my son know that the eternal
fires of hell will be a blessing!"
Montfort sat at the table looking at
the naked and burned body of the youth he had hated so much — the
naked body perched like a trussed bird on the spit. He stared blankly
at it. He closed his eyes and fell forward on the bloody table, his
face into the meat he had just sawed.
The torture slaves looked at Seth with
terrified awe as a smile flickered across his face. It may have been
the fire light, but it may have not been.
