Gay sex story – Gay training – 2

Gay sex story

Supper couches, with gently raised backs, were fanned around the stone walls of the room. The floor was stone. So was the ceiling. There were torches, only half of them lit, fixed to the walls around the four sides. All of these couches were facing one, in the center of the room, that was flat.

The center couch had red-leather ropes attached to each of the four corners. The two at one end were tying off the wrists of a young man, swarthy in complexion, with a short beard and black body hair. The young man, not much taller than Asu, but more heavily muscled, covered in blue-tinted tattoos of primitive symbols, and thin of waist, with flaring thighs, and bulbous buttocks cheeks, was supporting the weight of his torso on his shoulder blades. His belly was inclined up, his jet-black cock and his heavy balls flopping back and forth, his black bush mingling with the more reddish, auburn bush of the man holding his torso on the incline and, kneeling between the darker-skinned man’s thighs, grabbing his waist, and fucking him in hard thrusts.

One of the dark-skinned man’s arms appeared to be broken—he screamed each time the thrust of the cock of his assailant jerked it. There were bloodied slashes across his chest and his thighs, and a dirty rag tied around one of his ankles. He was bleeding from a knife wound in his side. His knees were bent and lacerated—Nasri remarked to Asu that this was caused by sinking to them in defeat on the battlefield—and his bare feet, his ankles bound to the long, red cords at the foot of the couch, were flat on the surface of the lounge on either side of the soldier’s beefy thighs.

It was obvious that it was a member of the Palace Guard who was fucking him. The short skirt with the leather slabs was on the floor next to the couch, the soldier’s sandals next to that, and the medallion of rank was still around the soldier’s neck, swinging back and forth in rhythm with the thrusts of his cock. The soldier’s musculature was magnificent, as it was with all of the palace guardsmen, and his cock was thick and was pistoning hard and fast.

The man tied to the couch had been screaming when Nasri carried Asu into the room over his shoulder. They had not gone to Asu’s father’s house, but they had not gone in the direction of the temple, either. The solider had carried Asu into the entrance of the king’s palace and turned immediately to the right, entering the guard house and proceeding through that to the living quarters of the Palace Guard.

The man on the couch had long, black hair, in ringlets, and as Nasri and Asu entered the chamber, hearing the man’s screams from as far away as the entrance into the palace forecourt, the soldier fucking him had grabbed him by the hair, punched him in the face with a fist, and pounded his head against the hard surface of the couch until the man was reduced to moans and groans.

The soldier grabbed the man’s legs by the ankles and wishboned him in a wide, high spread to the limits that the red cords binding his ankles would permit, and started fucking his hole with deeper, anger-filled stabbing thrusts.

Upon entering the chamber, Nasri stopped about five paces from the center couch, pulled Asu down the front of his body, and held Asu to his pelvis. Still dazed, Asu had no trouble discerning that Nasri’s cock pressing in the cleavage of his buttocks was harder and bigger than Sargon’s had been.

Nasri pulled Asu’s thawb over his head and cast it aside on the floor. All Asu was wearing now were his sandals and the golden chain around his neck that his father had given him for good luck.

“Hatim has paid me to get you over your reluctance,” Nasri said. Both he and Asu had their eyes trained on the taking on the couch. “He wants it done fast and completely, and he wants you returned fully conditioned and resigned to it. Are you going to fight me?”

“No, Sire,” Asu murmured. “I want it done as much as he does.” His voice, however, revealed the great fear and regret with which he spoke this accepted truth.

“A pity perhaps,” Nasri said. “I like an attempt to fight. That man on the couch has fought. But he has lost. A captive from battle yesterday out on the plains. Karan there saw a friend of his lose his life to this man in battle. The captive was given to Karan. I thought that Karan would be finished with him by now, but he is toying with him. He had started when I left for the wine shop. I thought the taking couch would be free. No matter, though, I will initiate you standing here while we watch.”

Asu moaned and trembled in Nasri’s embrace. Nasri was holding the shorter young man off the floor, with just one arm encircling his waist. Asu’s body was jutting out from his at the pelvis, and his arms were dangling beside him. His head was lifted, though, and he was watching the brutal fucking on the couch. The soldier was up on his feet, crouching, taking deep, slamming thrusts into the captive’s channel. Rearing his buttocks back to where the long, thick cock came out of the hole, and then ramming it inside with a hard thrust of his hips. The captive was groaning quietly, just hanging there, supported only by the soldier’s hands on his waist raising the man’s pelvis to the punishing cock. The wounds on his chest, side, and thighs had opened and blood was oozing out of them. There also was a trickle of blood coming down from his scalp in front and his lower lip and an ear, torn where the soldier must have taken bites out of him. Cum was dribbling out of his hole. There had been several takings. The soldier had even taken time out for refreshment and then come back to resume the attack.

Asu felt the leather skirt of his own soldier hit the floor and get pushed aside with a foot. And he felt the hard cylinder of the cock, skin on skin. Long, hard, thick. Another Palace Guard requirement. Virility was the pride of the city. When the guardsmen marched on parade in the city, they marched naked except for their medallions of rank. If they could not take pride in what was swinging between their thighs, they would not be in the Palace Guard. Nasri’s cock was lodged between Asu’s thighs, pushing at the base of his balls and cock. He was slowing stroking, dry fucking Asu already.

“You are so big,” Asu murmured in fright.

“The best to initiate you. When you can take the cock of a palace guardsmen, you will have no trouble in the wine shop. This is best for you. Tonight you will take more than one palace guardsman’s cock. I promised to return you fully prepared.”

Asu moaned and began to shudder.

“Do not fear, my sweet little one. I will take good care of you. I almost would not take Hatim’s money. To be the first in one like you—to ream you to Palace Guard requirements—is reward enough in itself.”

Over the next several moments, Nasri worked to get his cock inside Asu’s hole, but it just wasn’t working. Nasri was too big and Asu too virginal. Nasri gave up on the direct approach. He carried Asu over to one of the other couches, crouching down as he moved and retrieving the leather bands used as belting for his leather skirt. Laying Asu’s back on the end of the couch, he called out, “Bring me taking grease.”

In short order a Nubian slave arrived with the requested lotion. In the meantime Nasri had tied Asu’s ankles together, pushed his legs up to his chest, and then tied his wrists in front of him, so that his legs were encased between his chest and his bound arms. When the slave arrived, Nasri was tonguing Asu’s hole and patting it, commanding it to open for him.

Asu was moaning at the unexpected pleasure of this sensation. He arched his back and groaned loudly, though, when Nasri’s beefy, greased fingers started to work at opening his channel up.

“Sorry that you must be bound,” Nasri whispered. “But this must happen, and quickly. There will be no running away from me as you did from that fat, rich merchant, Sargon. Hatim has declared that when you come back you will sit on Sargon’s cock—or not come back alive.”

Asu moaned as much for what Nasri had said as for what he was doing with his fingers.

“Servants,” a voice rang out from the center couch. “I think it is finished for now. I wouldn’t want to use him up in one session. Come clean up and throw him in the cells.”

Asu heard a scurrying of feet, the sound of something being carried off, scrubbing of the center couch and the floor around it—and then silence.

“Ah, good,” he heard Nasri say. “We can use the taking couch after all.”

Bound at all four corners of the couch, but with enough give that he could kneel on all fours, Asu had his head raised and his mouth hanging open, panting heavily and whimpering. Nasri was covering him close from above and slow pumping his cock inside Asu.

The screaming and begging for mercy were over—had been over for nearly half an hour. It had been difficult even with the taking grease and the preparation by the fingers, but Nasri was insistent and determined—and Asu was bound and helpless. Asu could take no more of the demands on his knees and elbows and, with a groan, he sank to the surface of the couch.

“Just as well,” Nasri muttered. “I must ensure full access.”

Asu had no idea what the soldier meant until he felt the giant pull out of him and the leather strips being secured around his thighs and his calves, holding his legs close together. He arched his back and screamed again as Nasri started working his cock into the now-tightened channel.

There had been a change of shift in the palace guardsmen, and those going off duty had passed those coming on duty in the supper room. The city was large, but the repute of Asu for beauty and the end of the counting of his days for the change ceremony were well known, so all stopped beside the center couch while passing from and to their duty. They could not believe their good fortune, when Nasri told them what he was doing with Asu, why, and that they all might have a part in it.

“We are preparing him for his wine shop duties, training him to take the cocks of men,” Nasri told all who asked. “If you wish, those of you coming off duty, stay and you may have him too. And for those who are going on duty, we will still be here when you are relieved. But he is not for rough taking, lads. We are conditioning and hardening him, not punishing him. Keep that in mind, as hard it is, I know, for you not to be rough. I’m sure that all of you, like me, want to have him survive for our visits to Hatim’s wine shop. He is our guest tonight, not our captive. The bindings are for his benefit.”

Nasri came this time inside Asu. Asu had already come countless times in nervousness, fear, shock, and, eventually, the glory of the taking. As Nasri untied the leather strips around Asu’s thighs and calves, another strapping, young palace guardsman stepped forward.

“Retie him on his back; just the arms,” he said. Nearly a dozen hands moved quickly to untie Asu’s wrists and ankles from the red cords; turn him, groaning; onto his back; and then rebinding his wrists to the corners of the couch. Taking a plump pillow from another couch, the strapping soldier climbed up onto the center couch with his knees, pushed the pillow under the small of Asu’s back, wishboned his legs with fists grabbing his ankles, and slid a throbbing, hard cock inside him, easily opening a channel that had already been stretched by Nasri.

Asu could feel the difference of the cock, which surprised him, and although he cried out at the first thrust, this one wasn’t as thick as Nasri was, so Asu felt prepared to take him. He also was younger than the rest and over anxious. Four thrusts and he exploded, adding his semen to that already contributed by Nasri.

“The gods be cursed,” he cried out.

“No tragedy,” Nasri said. “There is room at the end of this line.”

The third man was content with taking Asu the same way, but subsequent guardsmen each had his own characteristics and preferences and feel. One even had Asu rebound with his knees pulled into his chest and ankles tied to wrists, laid him on his side on the couch, stood next to him, and plowed him sideways. Once taken across the curtain, Asu was grateful for this education—although the lessons could have stopped several hours before they did.

Mercifully, he was not there for the next change in shift. The captain of the guard strutted in on the proceedings, asked the gathered guardsmen what in Hades were they doing with this young civilian of the city. When he was told, he ordered them to unbind the young man. Then he reached down and picked Asu up, threw the spent youth over his shoulder much as Nasri had done much earlier in the evening, and took Asu to his own, private quarters.

The captain of the king’s Palace Guard, Mahir, was not of the world of the subordinate guardmen’s supper couches, or of the city’s wine shops, or even of the city’s merchant world. He was a senior official of the king and was a man of the palace court. His was not of a world of fucking serving boys in the wine shops; his was of the world of courtesans and of taking young men fully and well on silken couches and leaving them both sobbing and sighing, unable to close their legs and not wanting to, grasping at him for another throw.

Asu was trembling and moaning, hiccupping and groaning as the captain carried him into his bedchamber. The contrast between Mahir’s quarters and those of the palace guardsmen was startling. Within the same stark stone walls that held the guardsmen’s supper room, a luxurious chamber had been assembled—tapestries on the walls, carpets from the Orient on the floor, leather-seated campaign chairs, a large sleeping couch, covered by the skins of exotic wild animals, and a many-armed chandelier in the ceiling, casting bright light from a hundred candles.

A young man of handsome visage and dressed only in bangles and rouged nipples lay on the couch when Mahir entered, carrying Asu over his shoulder. Mahir waved away the courtesan, and when he, pouting, had removed himself, Mahir pulled Asu down to in front of his body, with Asu facing the bed. He encircled Asu’s heaving belly with a strong arm, covered the young man’s privates with a beefy hand, and let his hardening cock part Asu’s thighs, the bulb pressing against the base of Asu’s ball sac, giving Asu the sensation of his torso resting on a gigantic, throbbing cylinder. Asu knew what it was, though, and he panted in fearful anticipation.

The contrast in living styles was not the end of it. Mahir’s body was unlike those of the younger Palace Guard soldiers, as well. To their Apollo physiques, he was a Zeus.