I set the paper and bottle down on the table and lifted his chin with my cupped hand so that his face was staring into mine. And I took a chance and took his lips in mine.
His mouth was dead at first, but slowly, hungrily he yielded to me. I had gambled that underneath that shell he was frustrated and wanted to lie with me. The kiss confirmed this.
He was paralyzed by the situation, though. He was trembling and tearing up and seemed not to be able to stand on his own when I pulled him up from the chair. He didn’t resist, but he gave nothing of himself either.
I took him in my arms and carried him into the bedchamber and laid him on my bed. I stood over him and let the cotton robe I was wearing fall to the floor. He whimpered at the sight of my nakedness, which I knew was not displeasing to a man wanting to be fucked by another man. I could see a spark in his eyes now, but his lips were murmuring “No, please not . . .”
“Shush,” I whispered. “Just relax. And let me comfort you. I know there is something. Something wrong. I don’t think it is that you don’t want me. Let me comfort you.”
I lay down beside him on the bed and took him in my embrace. He didn’t fight me, but, again, he made no move of acceptance either. Only detached acquiescence. I would not be defeated, though. I hummed to him and rocked him in my arms.
“When you can speak of it. Tell me. Tell me what is a barrier to us making love. I know you want to.” I had moved my hand under the waistband of his trousers and briefs and had found assurance that he wanted me. “This tells me that you want me. You have lain with another man before, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” It sounded bitter, almost defiant.
“And men have made love to you, haven’t they?”
“No.” Even harder, more bitter.
“You have never had a man’s cock inside you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Ah, you have been taken by force then. Is that it?”
“Yes.”
“In Africa?”
“Yes.”
I had opened his trousers and unbuttoned his shirt by now, and I was gently fondling him with my hands—the hand of the arm I was embracing him with was stroking a nipple and the other hand was gliding along his belly and down to his cock and balls. He was relaxing a bit and was softly moaning—although I’m not sure he even realized I was already preparing him. Or that he was letting me do it.
“Perhaps if you give voice to it, let the demons out, it would be the start of healing. I am not forcing you, am I?”
“No.”
“And it is giving you pleasure, isn’t it? Pleasure you haven’t had in some time. Pleasure you need.”
He didn’t answer, but I didn’t give him much time or opportunity to do so. I had moved my lips to his again, and he was opening to me, letting me possess him. And then, for the first time reciprocating in the kiss, hungrily sucking on my tongue and groaning. I could feel the melting of the iceberg that had been him in the engorging of his cock in my hand.
“Tell me,” I whispered when I released his lips. I had to know for sure. “Tell me of this sadness and bitterness inside you.”
He lay there for several minutes, not saying anything, but his eyes held mine and his hips were beginning to roll with my slow pumping of his cock with my fist.
I was going to fuck him. I knew that. And now he knew that as well—and he was resolved to it.
“Have you heard of William Jason? Major William Jason?” the young man suddenly asked.
“Yes, I believe so. Central Africa.”
“Yes, when he and his regiment mutinied and took over the government, they paid special attention to the Dutch-descendent farmers.”
“You? Your family?”
“Yes.” It was a whisper.
“You don’t have to tell me. You can just let me make love to you and make the memory of it go away,” I murmured. And indeed, he didn’t have to tell me. Now I knew for sure.
But having started, he let it out as if a mighty river had burst the damning of his soul. “As they lay in wait to attack our farm, they must have heard me practicing my flute. Otherwise I would have been dead too. Who would have known that the butcher, William Jason, was a classical music lover?”
He laughed an ugly, bitter laugh, and I took his lips in mine again to keep from losing him. I had retrieved a tube of lube from my nightstand that I had left there open and I was lubricating his channel with my fingers. And he was letting me do it.
When I released his lips, though, he continued with the story. “When I was the last one, cowering in a corner, the major pushed his way through the semicircle of soldiers backing me into the wall. He is a monster of a man, you know. Gigantic in every way. He fucked me for the first time then—brutally. Not caring that I had never done it before. Then he informed me that I played the flute divinely. He used that word. ‘Divinely.’ It was shocking to hear from the lips of such a monster. He said he was taking me back to the palace with him, and that I would play for him. And not just the flute.”
“Shush. Enough. I want to make love to you now.”
“He had a special chamber—more than one—that he’d set up in the basement of the palace. Of course, as far as I knew his predecessor had had the chambers too. I was strung up every which way over the next months—and taken in every way he could think of. He laughed once, telling me that all I needed to play the flute for him were my lips and my fingers. He broke everything else in my body in his rough sex torture. You may not have noticed, but I move slowly and deliberately. I am in nearly constant pain. That is what he gave me.”
“I will be gentle. Here, this will be comfortable enough, won’t it?” I had moved between his thighs with my knees. His legs were bent and I placed pillows under the small of his back to raise his hips to me. I presented the bulb of my cock at his now-loosened and lubricated hole and gently pressed in. He groaned for me, but he gripped the sides of my torso as I was hovered over him. And he moved his pelvis, drawing me inside him himself.
He sucked in his breath and moaned deeply as my cock head disappeared inside him. I held there. “Am I hurting you?”
“Yes. No. Please. Oh, god. Ohhh, ohhhh, ahhhh.”
I was inside him and he was opening to me as I slowly sank deeper and deeper.
“I escaped,” he said in a low, breathy voice. “Those who helped me, paid for it. My freedom was their death. Yet another guilt I must bear. But I was alive. I ran and ran. And I hid. I dyed my hair, changed my appearance as much as I could. Came to Europe to forge a new life.”
“Relax. Go with me. I’ll love all of those memories into the back of your mind.”
I began to slow pump him.
“Oh, god, oh god, ahhhh.”
Later I sat there in a chair, looking at the bed, as the young man slept the sleep of the fully satisfied, exhausted by a master cocking.
I almost regretted it, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
“What? I can’t! Why?” he muttered as he slowly came to. “Why am I bound?”
His wrists were handcuffed through the strong slats of my headboard and his ankles were handcuffed as well.
“I’m sorry about that,” I answered in a voice that I hoped conveyed as much regret as I felt. “I’m really sorry. But the Major sent me to find you. He wants you back.”