Erado's Journal

I'ERO TU

I am happy to be able to pick up the quill again. As I write this, I am reclining on a large and splendorous pillow while Leila negotiates elsewhere, obtaining feed and supplies for Henry, her horse, as well as rations of some kind for the two of us. Here again, I see how drastically my role differs from that of a conventional servant. I lack the muscle to carry large bags of feed, and in negotiating the price I fear my soft voice would be lost in the din of the market. There is also another reason that I cannot be tasked with such an errand, and Leila pointed it out recently when I offered to fetch her water.

“No,” she objected, authoritative even while looking weary. “You’ll not venture from my side when we’re in the bazaar.”

I did not question her out loud, but she must have sensed my curiosity.

“There’s no person on earth, man or woman, who could resist the urge to kidnap you,” she continued, looking on me with care. “It would be a shame for me to take you away from Cradle Spire for the sake of free love, and then see you rape-slaved after all.”

Well then. As you can imagine, hearing that was simultaneously reassuring and disconcerting. Now, however, I am in a private room- and my mistress alone holds the key. If men were to come and kidnap me now, I would know in an instant that she had died in defense of that key. And let me write now the solemn truth- should I ever believe her dead, my one and only love, it matters not what happens to me. Rape-slaved, mutilated, murdered- nothing would be worse than the knowledge that the light of my world had been snuffed out.

But enough about that. It makes me sad, to think of it.

There are some things I can still do, of course. I am good at soothing Henry. I know that in your mind you might infer something improper from this, but believe me when I say that Leila does not expect me to offer her horse any “relief”. I don’t blame you for thinking so- it is not unheard of in our country for concubines to be given the task of satisfying horses (especially those young girls who were daughters of the hated nobility in the wake of the class shift…I have some stories to tell in that area, believe me!) but Henry is a patient horse, and his eyes sparkle with intelligence. I have come to respect his tirelessness, and I sense that perhaps he senses that I, like him, am very important to his rider.

Perhaps one day, when we are far from Zalia’s grasp, I will have a horse of my own. Or a pony? Sometimes, I imagine myself brushing and caring for such an animal. Perhaps I might own the mare that Henry mates with! Wouldn’t that be adorable!

Sorry, I’ve gotten sidetracked. But these are the things I dream about in my idle time. Before my mind wanders further (and the comfort of this pillow drags me off to sleep) I should finish the tale of Haj’s court, and our actions there, in the face of possible capture.

When I left off, I had just completed a sensuous dance, displaying my charms to every man and woman present, before crumpling to my knees and begging my mistress to allow me to orally pleasure her. I have resigned myself to the fact that this book of journal entries might be found in a place far from where it was originally written, a country where the customs of Cradle Spire seem strange. In many places I travel, a boy performing oral sex on anyone, much less a dickgirl, is a sign of terrible weakness on the part of the boy. Why is this? Personally, I think it’s a wonderful thing! I’m very happy that at the very least, Cradle Spire was made to see the light.

My goal in presenting my mouth to Leila in the presence of Haj and his minions was very calculated. I wanted to show everyone just who was in charge- demonstrate to them my total subservience, and make them realize that despite my ability to choose almost any partner, I was utterly devoted to the statuesque “woman” in front of them.

Using gentle hands, I unfastened her codpiece, and braced my ears for the forthcoming explosion of conversation. Though we were relatively close to Cradle Spire, it seemed likely that a fair percentage of those present had never seen what I was about to conjure forth from Leila’s armor- a fourteen inch length of girl-powered cockflesh! For her part, my mistress petted my hair gently as she gazed defiantly around the room. In producing her cock from the button-fly of her undergarments (Leila, like many dickgirls in the military field, has eschewed lingerie for the riding comfort of male underwear) I mewled with delight, making myself seem almost orgasmic at the sight of her huge penis.

This wasn’t too far from the truth. From the first time I saw it, peeking out from behind the stable while she relieved herself in a field, Leila’s special appendage has fascinated me. I love the way it feels in my hands, how it tastes…how it smells…and I find myself aroused continuously by the thought of the virile whiteness that drips and spurts from it in time of orgasm. I think that this attitude shines through on my face in time of sexual performance, and I’m sure that everyone in the room could see the honest desire in my expression. There were gasps of admiration and astonishment, not just because of the size of Leila’s cock and my lack of size in comparison to it, but also because my intent to throw myself relentlessly upon it was quite clear.

“How big it looks in his hands!” marveled one guard. A fine observation, indeed- and exactly the response I had hoped to engender. Leila stood, legs straight and spread slightly, while I lay the full length of her meat over my face, letting it bask upon me like a snake in the sun, showing the entire room the full extent of her length in relation to my boyish features. There were gasps and murmurs, and I set minds to turning when I pursed my lips and kissed the shaft that covered my mouth, producing a cute pecking sound.

I purred into her blood-engorged flesh, sounding ecstatic as I knelt with hands at my sides, using my face as a measuring stick against fourteen inches of throbbing girlmeat. Abruptly, I inhaled deeply with her length over my small nose, savoring the beautiful smell of sex and making it clear to all present just how much I was savoring Leila’s cock scent. I swooned and gasped, groaning in my girlish voice, driving into the brain of every onlooker the idea that I was unspeakably aroused by the mere whiff of Leila’s cock. I wanted them to understand my role- to see me sniffing after her like a devoted pet. I wanted them to envy her.

Have you ever smelled a dickgirl cock, hot and heavy on your face in semi-flaccid glory, and pungent after a day of riding? In my more whimsical dreams I imagine a room in heaven where I can sample the fragrance as long as I like! But maybe that’s just me. Even Leila must sometimes scold me for the almost pantheon-level significance I assign to her wonderful organ. In any case, with so many sets of eyes locked on us, I knew I could only sniff at her for a moment before proceeding to the next logical phase- the use of my pretty mouth, painted with cinnamon sparkle for just such an occasion. (Leila’s favorite! I know I’ve found a good cosmetic lip potion at market when she tugs gently at my bottom lip when kissing me, as if to taste the flavor!)

Exhaling with meaning, I gathered her length with two-hands and brought the head of her cock to my face. She has no foreskin (again- the calendar dictated such on the day of her birth) and so the attentions of my tongue to her bulbous cockhead are unfettered in their intensity. On this occasion, I mewled with delight and began to kiss her penis as if it were my lover, sliding my little tongue as far as it would go into her pisshole, as a randy nobleman might slip the tongue to a scandalized maid. The crowd was overwhelmed with the sight- I can only imagine what I must have looked like, kneebound, my compact behind thrust out, holding Leila’s big shaft with two small hands and kissing the tip like a poisoned man slurping antidote from a thimble.

“I would pay any amount to have my cock sucked by that little nymph,” a low-voiced guard remarked, and there was a murmur of agreement. The air began to fill with increasingly filthy talk.

“If all concubines of Cradle Spire are this lovely, I will have to travel there!” said another guard- but Leila responded to him at once, though her voice was affected somewhat by the state of ecstasy my tongue was leaving her in.

“No concubine of the Spire would be permitted to touch you,” she said simply. “They serve only the new nobility- the new half.” She gasped as I drove my tongue especially far into her pisshole. “And in any case, Erado is beyond Cradle Spire now! We travel to the west, and what untold lands may lie there, as free souls.”

“If you are free, then you obey no concubine law of the Spire!” replied another guard, massaging a large erection through his baggy pants. “This angel-boy is bound by no custom!”

I groaned against Leila’s cock as she replied to this latest remark. The length of it was now jutting and hard, and veins were standing out around the base. “We are bound by the same law that governs any free soul,” she said, “the law of our own choice, and of the common good.”

I removed my mouth from Leila’s cocktip and clenched my teeth, glancing at the assembled onlookers through slitted eyes. When I spoke, my voice was overheated and cock-thirsty. “And this, I choose.”

I slipped my sparkling lips over Leila’s huge cockhead and pushed my face forward, swallowing her whole, allowing her meat to burrow into my mouth like a sun-fearful snake. I allowed the choking noises of my throat to echo, not trying to hide them. I wanted every man present to imagine the pleasure that the gasping vibrations of my little mouth must be providing my mistress. Eyes watering, I bobbed my head sensuously up and down the first half of her immense length, bathing the underside with my tongue as I went. In between gasps and glottals, I purred and groaned with pleasure, wriggling my tiny body and swirling my hair about. When drips of saliva began to dribble down my chin, I was glad. So much the better to demonstrate the slickness of my throat. So much the better to display the intimacy of her cock in my mouth. I drew back, purposely allowing my eyes to go glassy, and inhaled like I’d not taken a breath for days, filling my lungs. The result was perfect- a strand of thick spittle connected Leila’s cocktip to my mouth, dangling in a clothesline arc.

A guard lunged forward, falling to his knees, his eyes desperate. Leila drew her sword in an instant- the tempered steel seemed to be out of her hip-scabbard before the sound of drawn metal had reached our ears. The man slid to a stop just short of the blade, saving his throat from a nasty fate by only an inch. For a moment, the guards were more impressed by Leila’s prowess with a blade than with my prowess in oral worship.

But only for a moment.

“Please!” he gasped, his erection plain in his pants. “I must feel his mouth! I will give my heirlooms, my meager holdings in titles and deeds, if he would swallow my seed!”

Leila looked down on him along the length of her blade and extended arm, her sinewy muscles holding the sword perfectly still even fully extended. “If that is truly what you desire, do not ask me,” she said, locking eyes with the desperate man. “Erado is free. He is no servant of mine.”

The man shifted his gaze to me, mouth trembling…but he said nothing. His dark eyes met my blue ones, and I lifted my head a little, giving him full view of the curvature of my neck. Then I turned back to Leila, taking her off-hand and placing it in the sweet-smelling tangle of my neck-length hair. In doing so, I sent a number of messages.

To the desperate man:

No. I am free, and so I am free to belong to her.

And to Leila:

Use my hair, mistress. Pull on it as you would the reins of a horse. Use it to force yourself into me deeper, harder. Show this room, and the voyeuristic angels of heaven, to whom I belong.

The man looked despondent, and in truth it was a pathetic sight- but no one rebuked him. Not even Haj, who appeared all at once to be fuming and fascinated. Nobody uttered so much as a word about his rash action. It that instant I knew it was because they considered him courageous. They had all been seconds away from doing what he had done. Everyone in the room. The guards, the servant girls, and the rest.

With subservience in my body language and saliva dripping from my little chin, I placed my lips, slightly open, at the head of Leila’s cock, and raised my eyes to hers. I felt her fist tighten in my hair, and I purred contentedly, blowing a soft breath over her crotch. She withdrew her sword, holstering it, and petted my cheek with her now-free hand.

“Erado, m’eqwai huma. I’ero tu,” she said. Spire speak.

Erado, my beautiful boy. I love you.

“I’ero tu,” I said…and then she pulled my hair and erupted forward with her hips, plowing her big cock into my mouth with all the force of her swordswoman’s body. My hands went to my elongated nipples, pulling furiously at my piercings, causing my unique chest to stretch out wonderfully, savoring the sting of pain and the ripples of pleasure. I tried to purr, tried to groan, tried to squeak- but all that came out were the gasps of my sex-child face being penetrated. I looked up at my mistress when I could, trying to see if she was letting her eyes roll back with ecstasy, the traditional sign of pleasure in Cradle Spire and elsewhere- but of course her eyes were still alert and focused, with so many randy and envious swordsmen in the vicinity.

I was under no such restriction of alertness, and so I allowed my eyes to roll back as they watered with the extremity of facial penetration that I was receiving. It was an easy physical reflex to trigger- for I truly was as aroused as I’d ever been, with my mistress dominating my mouth in front of so many onlookers. But it was calculated to. I wanted them to see that I was exploding with pleasure- not from being petted or fingered, not from having my own body attended to- but from the act of being choked by Leila’s awesome cock.

There were gasps throughout the room as any number of guards dropped to their knees and began masturbating furiously, fisting their generous erections with eyes wide open and devouring every second of my oral adventure. The desperate guard next to us was gasping and wailing as he jerked his penis not two feet from where I was- and even Haj was sporting impressive wood. The servant girls had stuffed their long-nailed hands down into the fronts of their silken pants, and were rutting furiously at their crotches. Amra had her sister Maala on her lap, and was diddling her as they kept their eyes locked on Leila and I.

“Lemleia, goddess of fertility! Strike down my crone of a wife and send me a boy such as this!” gasped one guard.

“I denounce the ugly witch I married!” howled another, sputtering as he ejaculated onto the ground in white streams. “And her harpy of a mother! By heaven, and all things good…send me a sweet-mouthed angel to drink the sperm from my wife-weary balls!”

Others were less loquacious and more to the point:

“I would give a year’s pay to fuck his girlish ass! He looks like my budding niece!”

I knew that Leila’s voice would soon join the chorus. My mistress cannot resist talking when she is in ecstasy, and the articulation of her dirtiest thoughts is a source of great pleasure for the both of us.

“Yes, give me that mouth!” she hissed, sliding herself quickly and repeatedly between my stretched lips. “Give me that fucking mouth! Give me that perfect little mouth! My sweet Erado! Swallow every inch of me!”

I cannot describe the noises I was making as she buried herself in my throat. The air was filled with them- choking and gasping sounds, but with a liquid wetness to them that increased as my mouth manufactured more spit to ease her penetration- a reaction not unlike how a pussy will lubricate itself in moments of passion. I have chuckled just now as I sit here writing- what was my mouth in that moment, really, if not a cunt? Certainly Leila was fucking it like one.

Gasping, Leila thrust forward and buried herself nearly to the hilt in my mouth. My eyes went wide, and the room exploded in speculation and astonishment. I’m certain that several orgasms were trigger by the image of my throat growing a very telltale bulge as her cockhead lodged in my neck.

“How can such a small boy swallow so massive a cock?” asked one masturbating guard, and others echoed his question. At the time I could not respond- but the answer is simple.

Practice. And people think the life of a concubine is all fun and games!

I exhaled out of my nose and fluttered my eyes as she kept herself buried within me for a long period. Five seconds became ten. And as the time ticked away, the noise grew. No one could believe my sexual feat- and I played to their incredulity, pulling harshly at my nipple rings in ecstasy, pulling my already-long nipples into cone shapes, and howling orgasmically around the cock in my throat. I loved the feeling of being stuffed full of Leila’s cock. I loved the tingling and stinging in my nipples, which had been trained to ultra sensitivity. I loved the envious eyes of every man and woman present.

“God, I want him!” howled a guard, and from the corner of my eye I saw his cock explode with orgasm, firing long cum strands down onto the floor as he collapsed to his knees. Others followed suit- and the women present began to howl in orgasm as well.

After nearly twenty seconds, Leila pulled her cock from my throat in one swift stroke, allowing me to rock back in a kneeling position with a dazed look on my face. My eyes were wide and watering. I felt naughty as a thick, phlegmy strand of saliva leaked out of my mouth and down my chin. Leila’s cock was shiny with my spit. I released my nipple rings and let my hands fall to my sides, panting.

Then, I reached up and put her hand back in my hair. I clenched my teeth and spoke, using as sex-starved a voice as I could muster from a diaphragm unsuited to husky talking.

“I want you to fuck me,” I seethed, licking my gloss-smeared lips and wiggling my adorable little behind. “Please mistress- fuck me. Fuck me!” They had to see my devotion. My desire. The full extent of my addiction to her cock.

Leila smiled, and the gasps of the assembled crowd grew. Her penis was rock hard and pulsating, dripping with spit and ready to fuck.

“Get off your knees, Erado,” she said. “We’ll do it standing.”

But I must leave off. Henry needs brushing- and the fire needs tending. These things, I can do. And, of course, I am well-suited to one other very important thing. You shall know all of the details of that when I have occasion to write again.

You may wonder how I can remember these details.

I’ero tu, she said.

If you think I could ever forget, you are a fool.