The guard led her to the table, made her kneel on the cushion and bend over the table itself, spreading her legs so her sex was exposed. Senku came over to her and put his hand on her privates, beginning to rub them. She gasped a little in surprise but didn’t protest—in fact after a moment, she started to grind against his hand, making breathy little moans as she did so. So this was what Jaime meant about her being prepared? I felt sick. Senku was old enough to be her grandfather, and the leer on his face was disgusting.
The priest’s action was apparently Jaime’s signal to begin. He pushed me slowly back against the bed and knelt between my legs, facing the throne. He ran his hands gently down my sides, then repeated it just using his fingernails. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but enjoy the light, teasing,
knowing
touch. He kept doing it, so I concentrated on his hands and not the sounds I could hear close by of the girl being frigged by the pervert of a priest. Better to ignore that, just as he’d warned.
He rolled one of my nipples between his fingers, then bent and bit it, making me gasp. He looked at me sharply, so I did my best to show that I had remembered his warning. He nodded slightly, then repeated his attack. I arched into it—I loved that kind of attention. His hair had swung forward and was brushing my chest, a delightful sensation. I longed to run my hands through it, but I knew better by now, so I let him stimulate me with his tongue and his teeth. To my surprise, I was getting hard.
A gentle hand cupped my balls and rolled them, then I felt his finger circling my entrance, slipping in and fucking me a little. I moaned and pushed against it, wanting more, but he denied me that. Instead, he kissed his way down my stomach, tonguing my belly button until I could barely stand it any more, and then he kissed the tip of my now quite erect cock, before taking the head of it into his mouth and beginning to suck.
My fists clenched at the silk. I was more often the one giving than receiving this—I enjoyed it both ways—but rarely had I been treated with such skill, had such a sweet and silken mouth to enjoy. He took me all in, swallowing me, a trick I couldn’t even manage, and the feel of his throat about me made almost forget where I was and why I was here.
His probing finger was back, but he denied me enough for true pleasure, just as he stopped short of giving me release—if I’d been allowed to touch him, I probably would have grabbed his head and made him finish what he’d started, damn it! I almost whimpered when he released me, but the sound died in my throat when I looked up and saw his expression. His eyes were shimmering with tears, his lips pressed so tight that they were a single bloodless line—I was shocked at the utter misery I saw in his face. What was he looking at? What was he thinking about?
It was if his body was divorced from his mind, because he continued to pet and stroke me, teasing my cock with his hands, all while his face was a picture of devastation. My erection died almost immediately, and all his cleverness could not revive it. What was wrong?
Ignoring my lack of arousal, he indicated I should roll over and then he raised me on all fours. This put me facing the throne, and not even the teasing licks he began to give me around my arse could distract me from what I could see now. The god’s hands were clenched in fists, and something told me that his arms were somehow restrained under the sleeves of his robe. Dark eyes stared at us from under the mask, and there were muffled whimpers emerging, though nothing distinguishable as speech. I risked looking over my shoulder at Jaime, and found he was staring back at the god, his expression even more bleak than before—I don’t think he noticed I’d even moved. To my side, the girl was still being masturbated, writhing in abandoned ecstasy in a manner that I was sure was the result of a drug.
There was a small parting in the robes of the god, from which sprang an impressive, but entirely human looking cock, fully aroused. Minas, his expression greedy, had his hand on it. He licked his lips as he lazily stroked the god’s erection, but it seemed to me he was just keeping it hard, rather than trying to make the god come. Behind me, Jaime was doing his best to pleasure me with fingers and tongue, but I was too fascinated, too horrified by what I was seeing.
Minas nodded then, and Senku suddenly made the girl stand. She seemed rather weak-legged, so the guard had to help Senku take her to the throne. She ascended a set of steps, then Senku and Minas helped her sit astride the god’s lap, Minas’ hand still on the god’s erection, guiding it inside her. She gasped as she was entered—and so did I, because at that moment, Jaime shoved his own cock inside me.
I hated myself, but it felt good, sinfully good. It was still so perverted, the way he matched his thrusts to the rhythm of the girl riding the cock of her god, and part of me felt nauseated to be part of this at all. Over the girl’s shoulder, the god’s eyes burned into me, his hands clenching and unclenching, the gasps and moans of her increasing ecstasy almost concealing his muted groans. Minas watched everything avidly—her riding the god, me being fucked—and I wondered exactly who was being pleasured here.
It didn’t take long—the god came with a muffled roar that almost sounded like he was trying to say something, his hands clutching helplessly at the air. Was I only imagining despair in his eyes? It was really too dark to tell. As soon as he reached completion, Jaime stopped thrusting. I would have complained, but in the circumstances, I didn’t really blame him for a lack of enthusiasm.
With the priests’ help, the girl climbed off his lap and was helped unsteadily down the steps. Minas made her bend over and stuck his finger into her, then drew it out, examined it and nodded, clearly satisfied, his lips curling in an unpleasant smile that made my skin crawl. The girl was led away from the throne, taken in charge by the two lesser priests, and led out of the room. I wondered if she felt particularly holy, being full of godly sperm, or if she would even remember any of this tomorrow.
Jaime tugged on my shoulder. Neither of us had come, but our job was done, it seemed. He handed me my robe, bowed to Minas and the god, then I followed him out back to the bathroom. His eyes were wet, his lips still pressed into a painfully hard line. He said nothing until he closed the door behind us, and then it was only to tell me wash and to dress. “Jaime, are you all right? You look terrible.”
“
Shut up,” he snapped, and there were tears in his voice too.
All I could do was obey him, using a cloth as he was doing to wipe myself clean. He was still somewhat erect, but when he removed the band he had placed around himself, his cock soon became flaccid. I wondered if he would ever had come, however long he had fucked me. As he’d promised, it had all taken very little time. I suppose I should have felt frustrated at being stimulated thus but not gaining release, but my mind was too busy thinking over the strangeness, the horror of it all. Why was Jaime crying? What kind of religion asked for such a farcical ceremony from its followers? And who was this ‘god’? One thing was for sure—that was a man behind the robes and mask, not a god. A man kept in restraints, stimulated unwillingly, and forced into sex with a woman who had to be drugged before she would consent.
It was clear Jaime would answer no questions in this room, and I was only too glad to leave it, following him back through the long twisting corridors and narrow stairs, and feeling inordinately relieved when the doors of his apartment closed behind us. Before I could open my mouth, he raised a hand. “Don’t ask me questions,” he said in a weary voice. “If you wish to...find release, do it in the bathroom, and wash afterwards. Never masturbate in the bedroom.”
“
And you? What about your release?”
He only shook his head and turned to go into the bedroom.
I stood there for a few moments. I didn’t need release. What I did need were some answers, but to press him when he was so obviously weary and distressed would be cruel. Was it like this every time for him, or was it just because I was new? Somehow I didn’t think I was anything to do with his reactions—he had not really paid me any attention at all.
He was buried under the covers when I came in. In other circumstances, I would have gladly offered him some comfort, just because he was a human being in pain, but I knew he would hate me for even trying. I blew out the lamp and tried to calm my emotions.
I’d expected to be humiliated, embarrassed, even disgusted, but I hadn’t expected to feel such deep pity for Jaime. God or no god, Paon’s ‘blessing’ could never be worth such pain.
~~~~~~~~
I slept badly and I know he fared no better. It didn’t surprise me that he was very subdued the following morning, and I felt it would be unkind to press him over the book issue, so I withdrew to the bedroom without being asked. I think he appreciated the solitude, because he roused himself a little over lunch, informing me that if I cared to, I could accompany him while he visited other parts of the temple to collect food, his laundry and so forth.
“
Oh, I thought you had things brought and taken away for you.”
He gave me a hard look, but I didn’t think it was more than habit. “No one fetches and carries for me. I’m not asking you to either, if you don’t wish to.”
“
No, I’d like that.” The temple was a frightening place, but anything was better than being trapped for a week in this small apartment. “Once the fortnight is up, can I really come and go as I wish? Wouldn’t it be easy for me to just run off and sell this thing?” I asked, flicking the collar.
He gave me a humourless smile. “You’re welcome to try. The last person who did so is still feeding the plants in the garden. In several parts of the garden. And they didn’t wait for him to die before spreading him about.”
I gaped at him. I’d come to realise that his own threats of violence were empty, though the emotions which prompted them were real enough. But when he spoke of the temple, I felt he was entirely serious—and I wondered how it avoided the king’s justice so thoroughly. The temple and the priests, according at least to the book I was reading, were certainly not above the law. How could they get away with this?
He finished his meal—or rather watched me eat—and left his own hardly touched, and took the plates away.
“
You know, you’ll get sick if you don’t eat properly. I know that for certain.”
“
My health is not your concern.”
“
I never said it was. Can’t a man give another simple advice?”
“
Not when the man is you, and not to me, no. If you’re determined to come, then the night soil can needs emptying.”
Figured. But I’d done worse tasks, and the thing had a lid so there was no smell. I had only to carry it while he brought our dirty clothes. He insisted on us wearing the concealing cloaks again, and I had to wonder why, but it wasn’t worth a battle over. As we walked along a route I had not yet taken, I was surprised to hear the distant sound of women’s laughter. “I thought there were no females in the temple.”
“
There aren’t. We’re not actually in the temple itself, but in a side wing. There are separate kitchens and laundries for we who are unsanctified. Only the priests and acolytes live and eat in the temple proper. The guards, other staff, you and me, we live here. Women are permitted in this wing, but in no other part.”
“
So the women who...?”
I thought he was going to tell me I talked too much again, but he only sighed. “They come from the temple of Neku which adjoins this.”
There had to be more to it, but we were in a public area so I didn’t push. After depositing the nightsoil can in what was clearly a collecting point for such things, and handing the clothes into a communal laundry, we came to the kitchens, identifiable from the smells coming from behind the wooden doors. I didn’t know what to expect, but it was in fact a perfectly ordinary, if very large and busy, kitchen, with a dozen or more people, mostly women, with a couple of young boys working by the open range. Jaime was greeted politely but without much enthusiasm, I noticed. He took me to a large, busty woman who was pounding dough into shape. “Mia, this is Nikolas. Josia’s replacement.”
“
Hmmm. Is this one going to stick around this time, or should I just call him ‘hey boy’ to save time?”
“
Whatever you wish,” he said coldly. “Do you have my provisions?”
“
In the cold room.”
He looked at me. “Just wait here, I won’t be long.”
That left me the subject of a lot of curious scrutiny which I met with a deliberately cool demeanour. Finally Mia barked out a laugh. “This one’s got balls of steel, I think,” which made the others giggle. “Where are you from, boy?”
“
My name’s Nikolas, not ‘boy’, and I’m from Jendon. You?”
“
From Egin, of course. So you’re the new bumboy—what do you think of our little Jaime? Pretty but cold as snow, ain’t he?”
“
He’s considerate,” I said firmly, ignoring the slur. “How many do you cook for here?”
“
Here? Oh, fifty or more, not including ourselves. All of them with appetites like goats. Why, want a job in the kitchens?”