the men fought long and hard. The stakes were life, love and freedom, and it was winner take all. After an hour of unbroken struggle, Caesareon’s rippling lowland musculature was exhausted. The wild steppeland genes of Hamaz, the older of the two by three years and the sworn enemy of his younger rival, triumphed. `Kill me` pleaded Caesareon, but Hamaz had no such intention. Caesareon was his prize, his possession, his badge of masculine success. Other men had to make do with women. He had Caesareon
Hamaz was lifted aloft by his adoring men, and Caesareon was taken away in chains, the loincloth of his conqueror tied in a headband round his forehead. He knew his fate. He resolved to embrace it, to take it like a man. It was what the gods had decreed, and his father would have consented. He was bathed, oiled, fed and groomed. Until the appointed day came
freely standing at the Altar of Mars, Caesareon stood naked, awaiting his groom. His stomach lurched when he knew Hamaz was behind him. The priest asked him `Do you promise to love, honour and obey?` Caesareon replied `I do`. Pages removed Hamaz’ glittering cloak, and he stood naked behind his prize. He stepped forward, put his arms round his groomboy’s wide chest and said aloud `I will punish you, faithfully and forever`. The assembled soldiery cheered, and egged Hamaz on with lewd shouts. Caesareon felt something warm and massive trying to enter his arsecrack. He couldn’t believe a mortal man could be so big. A page knelt and greased his crack with camphor oil. The priests released some secret concoction of light and glitter from above, down onto the heads of the coupling pair, as a magnificently built slave made slow strikes against the Gong of Mars. Hamaz held his man close with one arm, and pressed his other arm tightly round Caesareon’s lower abdomen as his cock tried to break into its new territory. `Yield` he whispered `You are mine now, my beloved, yield to my pleasure and take my spear`. Caesareon’s head swimmed with the most intense, but strangely satisfying, pain he had ever known. He fainted in his groom’s arms as the lights glittered, the men cheered and Hamaz went deeply into Caesareon’s hot, tight, man-tunnel
Caesareon’s wedding night was spent stretched out widely in his groom’s X-frame. Its normal use was to punish slaves and discipline soldiers, but tonight it had a special purpose. Tonight Caesareon took his lover and conqueror’s whip. By the end, he knew how completely he was possessed by Hamaz, and he wanted nothing else on earth. Hamaz’ closest friend and lieutenant Orchaz attended the pair. Finally, Hamaz handed his whip to Orchaz, who hung it up over the marital bed and cinched a leather belt round Caesareon’s waist. It secured Caesareon’s cock upwards, allowing his balls to hang free for his groom’s pleasure. Hamaz gently patted them with his cupped palm. He kept on patting them. Pat, pat, the stroke was soft but unbearable. Caesareon hadn’t come since he took a slavegirl in the fields three weeks ago. His gonads had had enough. His groans changed note. Hamaz stared into his boy’s face, and patted Caesareon’s hanging, defenceless balls faster. Caesareon grunted `Hamaz .. I’m yours .. forever` and shot incessantly. Unwanked. Upwards onto his chest and belly, shuddering convulsively, as his husband’s face broke into a handsome grin of victory
Orchaz moved over to the pair, and shot his wad onto his friend’s powerful thigh. His balls slapped onto Hamaz’ flaring quads, large hanging balls which Hamaz had punished so many times in this same X-frame. Hamaz kissed Orchaz, as Orchaz wanked him off with a smooth thumb and forefinger action. He caught Hamaz’ wad in his palm, reached round to Caesareon’s face and pressed it against his mouth. Caesareon tasted his master’s cum for the first time. Henceforth he would live for that taste, from day to day, and do anything to earn it as his marital reward and symbol of possession
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the men fought long and hard. The stakes were life, love and freedom, and it was winner take all. After an hour of unbroken struggle, Caesareon’s rippling lowland musculature was exhausted. The wild steppeland genes of Hamaz, the older of the two by three years and the sworn enemy of his younger rival, triumphed. `Kill me` pleaded Caesareon, but Hamaz had no such intention. Caesareon was his prize, his possession, his badge of masculine success. Other men had to make do with women. He had Caesareon
Hamaz was lifted aloft by his adoring men, and Caesareon was taken away in chains, the loincloth of his conqueror tied in a headband round his forehead. He knew his fate. He resolved to embrace it, to take it like a man. It was what the gods had decreed, and his father would have consented. He was bathed, oiled, fed and groomed. Until the appointed day came
freely standing at the Altar of Mars, Caesareon stood naked, awaiting his groom. His stomach lurched when he knew Hamaz was behind him. The priest asked him `Do you promise to love, honour and obey?` Caesareon replied `I do`. Pages removed Hamaz’ glittering cloak, and he stood naked behind his prize. He stepped forward, put his arms round his groomboy’s wide chest and said aloud `I will punish you, faithfully and forever`. The assembled soldiery cheered, and egged Hamaz on with lewd shouts. Caesareon felt something warm and massive trying to enter his arsecrack. He couldn’t believe a mortal man could be so big. A page knelt and greased his crack with camphor oil. The priests released some secret concoction of light and glitter from above, down onto the heads of the coupling pair, as a magnificently built slave made slow strikes against the Gong of Mars. Hamaz held his man close with one arm, and pressed his other arm tightly round Caesareon’s lower abdomen as his cock tried to break into its new territory. `Yield` he whispered `You are mine now, my beloved, yield to my pleasure and take my spear`. Caesareon’s head swimmed with the most intense, but strangely satisfying, pain he had ever known. He fainted in his groom’s arms as the lights glittered, the men cheered and Hamaz went deeply into Caesareon’s hot, tight, man-tunnel
Caesareon’s wedding night was spent stretched out widely in his groom’s X-frame. Its normal use was to punish slaves and discipline soldiers, but tonight it had a special purpose. Tonight Caesareon took his lover and conqueror’s whip. By the end, he knew how completely he was possessed by Hamaz, and he wanted nothing else on earth. Hamaz’ closest friend and lieutenant Orchaz attended the pair. Finally, Hamaz handed his whip to Orchaz, who hung it up over the marital bed and cinched a leather belt round Caesareon’s waist. It secured Caesareon’s cock upwards, allowing his balls to hang free for his groom’s pleasure. Hamaz gently patted them with his cupped palm. He kept on patting them. Pat, pat, the stroke was soft but unbearable. Caesareon hadn’t come since he took a slavegirl in the fields three weeks ago. His gonads had had enough. His groans changed note. Hamaz stared into his boy’s face, and patted Caesareon’s hanging, defenceless balls faster. Caesareon grunted `Hamaz .. I’m yours .. forever` and shot incessantly. Unwanked. Upwards onto his chest and belly, shuddering convulsively, as his husband’s face broke into a handsome grin of victory
Orchaz moved over to the pair, and shot his wad onto his friend’s powerful thigh. His balls slapped onto Hamaz’ flaring quads, large hanging balls which Hamaz had punished so many times in this same X-frame. Hamaz kissed Orchaz, as Orchaz wanked him off with a smooth thumb and forefinger action. He caught Hamaz’ wad in his palm, reached round to Caesareon’s face and pressed it against his mouth. Caesareon tasted his master’s cum for the first time. Henceforth he would live for that taste, from day to day, and do anything to earn it as his marital reward and symbol of possession
Both artwork and story A+++!
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