Tutor and Brother

“As of that moment only my eyes and my mind seemed to exist, as I was intensely watching the show before my eyes. I felt the Emir leaning slightly forward, watching with burning eyes, just as I did. But no more of this. Just about what I saw, what made my body run hot and cold, and my mind empty of anything but what was before my very eyes. I watched as Fadi circled the two kneeling young men. He knew them. He’d shared them on one wild night with the Emir and mentioned the wish to own them. He was the only one who could afford to talk so openly to the Emir. He: Fadi. Emir’s mentor, his blood brother, his counselor, his friend. This and much more I would learn much later on, just like the way in which he took pride in everything he and the Emir shared. He lived to serve the Emir, and his wishes were his own wishes and commands. He decided to pick first the raven haired one. He knew him after that wild night to be more sensitive, he liked the way the young man, whimpered, moaned and even screamed his pain or pleasure, while his body was so nicely responsive and accepting of any challenge – kind, or punishing.
He let his hand on the kneeling young men’s shoulder and signaled him so to stand up being the chosen one. I looked as the young man stood up, and immediately clasped his hands behind his nape. I further watched with fear, heart beating wild, as he was ordered on the rack and used in most heinous ways. All the time my mind kept screaming ‘never, never, would I submit, I would rather be dead or worse.’ The fear for my immortal soul haunted me, while the Emir kept touching me, nibbling my earlobe, his hands roaming over my body. Fadi, his master’s most close friend, had the poor young man on the rack moaning and begging for release with each drop of candle wax on his body, with each touch of the hand on the young man’s most intimate part. I watched fascinated the whipping, while the other slave had been ordered to suckle him, and as finally the young man lost all control and collapsed in his own haze of relief with the last, most punishing stroke of the whip, which seemed to embrace his body from behind, as he jerked wildly for the last time, before going completely limp in his bonds, I became aware of myself again. Ashamed and embarrassed I realized that – for how much time, I didn’t even dare think – I had lain in the arms of the Emir, letting him fondle my body…My aroused body for my utter shame, as he whispered almost soothingly: “look, watch, learn, and know that I want you this way, and all the ways. More than I ever wanted anyone. None of my toys was more than that. I need you to become my toy. Willingly. And perhaps, who knows, the feelings you stir in me beloved one…Who knows? Maybe you would learn and be more. Earning also my trust and love, next to the lust and desire I already feel burning for you.” I tried to jump up from where I lay sprawled on the bed in his arms. He watched me intensely, and holding me tight with a sigh he said “if you wish it that way…a shame. Pity. Fadi! Tomorrow start his training. Easy first. Remember. I don’t want him intimately touched by anyone. Not even you. See only that he learns submission.” He released me from his embrace, and I mindlessly tried to run out of the room.
“Halt!”
I stopped frozen, dead in my tracks.
“Every time I call you shall attend to me and Fadi in this room”. I gave no reply. A hand gripped me around my neck and pressed lightly a spot there, making me cringe and wanting to scream of pain, as a voice in my year whispered “say, yes master, now, or Hell will look like Paradise with all its houri for you as of tomorrow. Obedience I’ll teach you still for him.” Upon that I gave from me a very reluctant “yes master”, and released from the punishing grip I tore away and hurried to my room. Running down the hall, mingled in my mind with the moans and screams just witnessed, I heard a loud scream of pain…Mayhap, the other blond slave was suffering…Was it still Fadi, or the Emir? I forbid my mind to think on it. There, after uselessly searching for ways to take my life, after an endless night of prayers to a God who seemed not to listen, I awaited the man who was to teach me my fate. Fadi. That morning, noon and evening a ritual was created especially for me of daily punishments. And as much as I wanted to die, I suddenly found myself asking how much, how more, how long could I take. Weekly attending for one night the Emir and Fadi as they played with one of the slave toys. And wondering again what I would do in the end. Asking me how much patience the Emir was going to have with me. Asking me how it would feel if after those moments, which left me pained and yet, more and more aroused, how it would feel, be if the Emir… Months flew by this way, as I did battle for my body and soul…At first I did not care, but after almost half a year, I started feeling offended that the Emir did not attend in his turn the moments I suffered for him. For him or because of him? I no longer cared, and didn’t even know this. I was ready to submit, yet my mind gave me no sign, till one night. Strangely enough, after the first three months of punishment, regarded by the other willing or unwilling slave toys as a curiosity, I was left during the day, between my training lessons, to roam freely within the walls of the castle. I had learned almost by heart each room, even the one that made shivers run down my body, as I sneaked inside once alone, and took my time touching and feeling each surface, each material, each toy, the bed, the sheets…everything. I could call in my mind during the long whippings and canning times one of the things in there, and think on it, picturing how it would feel if the Emir were to…and usually it was then I lost the battle and screamed loud, hating the way my thoughts had started meandering, and still yearning for things those very thoughts evoked. The figure of the Emir had almost mythical proportions in my mind, and I longed to see him. He refused me this boon, save for the times in which I attended him and Fadi in that particular room, as they used the plying bodies of beautiful young men. Some of which I considered to be of unparalleled beauty. God! I even felt sometimes stirrings of burning, red hot jealousy and even lust, as tied to one bedpost I watched, and watched, in silence, forbidden to utter the merest sound…or else. He no longer talked to me, yet I heard his voice at all times enticing me, cajoling, hot, lingering, tempting me to surrender to the most forbidden of all. Or so I thought at that time.
That night I felt unusually restless and, as it was now my habit, I started roaming the large, long marbled corridors, my feet taking me to that grey and black marble room. I even had my hand on the door, listening, wondering if I should or not open it, and take another look. Or not. Then I heard it. A low growl, followed by another, and I had to push the door slightly open. The Emir was kneeling on the bed, Fadi’s hand around his chest, the Emir’s head reclining on Fadi’s shoulder as they made love. I watched mesmerized as Fadi gently released his grip on the Emir and pushed him gently down, so now he was riding the Emir whose chest was pressed to the bed sheet his buttocks welcoming the invasion of his friend. A satisfied moan escaped Fadi’s lips as he glided slowly out of the Emir’s body and, climbing down from the bed, bowed, and made for the door. I quickly stepped into the shadows, afraid I might be noticed, and when Fadi left, I retraced my steps to my room, to collect myself and think about what I’ve seen. Only in my room I realized that the Emir’s body had been just as flushed and bruised as any of his toys’ after an intense session with Fadi. I wondered and seething for the first time, I admitted I was jealous. For the first time I thought that it should be I who satisfied his lust and drained his thirst for my pleasure and pain, as I would his. I could no longer avoid a truth that had started to take shape in my mind: I wanted him to own me more, deeper and more powerful than any of his toys, and I was not willing to share with Fadi the pleasure of having him satisfy me. It was lust and revenge. Revenge and lust. I could have them. Both. And suddenly I felt sure that I found myself in front of a new beginning. I was about to change. Into quite, quite something else.”

Cedric could no longer continue to read. Despite his efforts, tired eyes forced him to sleep, and so he hid the Journal in his own private hidey-hole, blew out the candles, disrobed and covering his hips fell asleep naked, assured in the knowledge that the Journal was well beyond the touch of anyone else, and that no one would look for it in the near future, cheek pressed on his hand, left knee slightly bent, on his belly. In his dreams a fiery Emir came to whisper and make promises to him of enjoying togetherness soon, again.
He woke up with a start, as David tossed aside from his hips the thin sheet covering him, with a “wake up lazy head; it’s time to get ready. Up we go to London for the Season. I promise, it will be an interesting one. And I promise you shall feel more the thing when we return. Yes. You’ll see I am right. Give me the opportunity to show you. I tell you all will be best when we shall return in a couple of weeks.”
Cedric stared almost annoyed as his brother. Boy, was that one in an all time alt! What happened last night? Wasn’t David supposed to be annoyed and a bit, well, subdued after his ‘conversation’ with William?
“Don’t want to go to London. Better stay here. That’s it.”
“Now, Ced, don’t get me started. I said London. Will said London. London it shall be.”
Ced opened his mouth to protest again. He closed his mouth just as soon, noticing David playing negligently with the riding crop. Now, that particular game was of no interest to him, at least not immediately, so climbing out of bed he headed for the dressing room, where warm water awaited him. It was a childish reaction to avoid confrontation with his brother, but here it was. And since when was William good ole’ Will for David?
When he went to have breakfast with the two of them, he stopped a second to take in the picture before him. William looked…looked tired, yet oddly satisfied, like a cat after eating the canary, and still his movements seemed somewhat slow, hesitant. David was just as shining as before, not a bit intimidated or disgruntled by the force William had on both of them. More than that…It was like, like David held now the power, and William's eyes and body seemed to try to second-guess and tune his every movement on David’s. What the hell had happened last night he wasn’t aware of? In between two sips of coffee, a thought came to his mind. So wild, so beautiful, yet still hard to formulate: the Emir? Ced felt the urge to look around him. To search for any trace of the man who’d invaded his dreams lately. Of course, nothing, just an elusive memory flickering like a tiny candle.
In less than two hours the entire house party was prepared to leave for London. As they got in the carriage, Ced settled himself with his back to the horses, thus being able to watch as they were riding farther and farther from the old family castle. He was leaving the castle with a heavy heart and felt a sudden attack of panic. He almost wanted to jump down, run inside and take the huge picture of the two medieval twin ancestors with him. He knew he couldn’t.
William and David sat on the opposite bench, already engrossed in a serious discussion about bank drafts, expenditures, investments and a visit at Tatt’s and one at some of William's old comrades from Waterloo.
Ced sighed. There. One could no longer see the castle.