Date: Wed, 7 Mar 2007 03:14:50 -0500 From: carl_mason@comcast.net Subject: INDOMITABLE SPIRIT - 6 INDOMITABLE SPIRIT - 6 Copyright 2007 by Carl Mason All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, "Indomitable Spirit" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@comcast.net If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive. This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands safe sex. CHAPTER 6 (Revisiting Chapter 5) Taking the boys into his arms, he kissed them both on the forehead and thanked them profusely. Had Mike not developed a mammoth erection, all would have gone perfectly. Looking down on the memorable sight, the Count snickered and said, "Well, we may have to find a little saltpeter for you - or work off your passions in some other way!" With that he moved off to the library where he took his evening coffee. Mike talked the waiter into giving him the coffee, moved into the library, and set the coffee cup down on a side table. He then proceeded to drop into the Count's lap! Well, what are you going to do when you've got nearly 165 some odd lbs. of prime naked teenager in your arms, who's obviously amorous, and who's hard as a rock? (Seeking "the other way," the Count did his duty!) (Continuing Our Story - Living a Decision) Mike and Larry's enthusiastic approach not only to "opting for life," but to making life a grand adventure for their Master continued to snowball. The Count, for instance, sometimes had to turn over and sleep for another hour when the boys were finished with him in the morning! True, sexual was never as...fluid in the castle as on the island, but the boys were surely working at it. Whether they and the Count were exercising, hiking, swimming, or boating together, that which the Count half-humorously called the "bonobo effect" was much in evidence. That is, those at the castle found themselves increasingly turning to informal sex rather than commands or attempts at "rational discussion." More and more, a look or a caress was request enough. More and more, one didn't get all bent out of shape when he felt lousy - or the person next to him did. He just took the pressure off with the gift of fellatio or, in a more serious situation, simply offered or accepted a rigid cock and the release of tension that accompanied it. To his amazement, the Count began to realize that this approach was not restricted to the three of them, though it surely was restricted to those who wanted to take part. Remembering the Island of Tears, Mike reminded himself that sex could be used as a hurtful weapon. The next time that the Count had several old friends over for an evening of cards provides something of a case in point. Atypically, the Count began the evening with a light meal. Not too many minutes passed before his friends noticed the new "living statues!" (True, the pressure to stop eating and go over and get a closer look did make finishing the meal a bit difficult!) When the guests unanimously agreed that they had never seen more handsome young men, the Count couldn't help but smile, for he had arranged for them to serve coffee in the library! As a matter of fact, they rather trumped the coffee when they appeared in their kynodesmes. (Author's Note: The kynodesme is a thin leather strip, worn by tying it tightly round the foreskin beyond the glans. It can then be tied to the base of the penis so that the penis appears to curl upwards or, if the subject is more generously endowed - as were Mike and Larry - attached to a waist band. This was not only the jockstrap of classical times, but served an aesthetic purpose as well. Raising the balls slightly and holding the penis upwards meant that the scrotum of the young athlete was fully exposed and displayed, something seen as beautiful by the Greeks and others in the ancient world.) Naturally, the guests were absolutely mesmerized when Mike and Larry sat on the arms of their heavy chairs and chatted with them in English and German with a few words of Croatian! At the card table, one of the guests was so bold as to slide his hand over Mike's spectacular buttocks. When Mike grinned quietly before handing him his drink, no one at the table could restrain a murmur of delight. As one might guess, they absolutely insisted that the boys be at the next card evening! After the friends has left, the Count quickly spoke to Larry who was draped over him as he sat in the largest chair in the library. More accurately, he reached over, nibbled on the boy's earlobe, and whispered, "You don't have to entertain my guests sexually, you know." "Yes, I know, Master," the boy said quietly, but anything that gives you pleasure gives pleasure to Mike and to me." Athletically, he swung his body over the Count and slowly lowered himself onto his Master's erect cock. For perhaps the third time that evening, the two of them giggled and appeared to become one of the rocking toys so beloved of the Victorians. After their bodies had ceased to quake from violent orgasms, the Count drew the dark-haired beauty closer to him and began licking the salty sweat from his neck. "I love you, little one," he murmured. "And you are my life, sire" Larry responded. After dinner that night, the Count explicitly relieved the boys of responsibility for certain kinds of "entertainment," vowing that words alone were not enough. I would make up for this embarrassing lapse on the part of my friends. First, I met a man the other day whom I had not seen for some years, years when I was active on Marshall Tito's Olympics Committee. Have you heard of Yevgeny Katunin? "Katunin?" Mike sputtered. "Only one of the top gymnastic coaches in the world! Did you get to talk with him?" "Indeed I did," the Count responded. "Cool!" both boys replied enthusiastically. "Yes, cool," the Count replied, "so cool that he's agreed to stop by day after tomorrow for afternoon tea. I understand that he misses the game after several years away from it and would like to get back in on a limited basis. Were I you, I should try to persuade him to become your personal coach." The boys didn't know whether to shout, simply to look at each other in shock, to throw themselves onto the Count, or whatever. Before bedtime, however, they did manage to convince him of their gratitude. "Two other things," the Master murmured as he made ready to depart the library. "You have been everything I have ever dreamt of. I hope you will join me tomorrow. Perhaps we can enjoy the Adriatic together. More importantly, you should know that I lost all three of my sons in the Croatian War of Independence against the Serbs. It's not as if you could ever replace them - or I, your fathers - but we could add great richness to each other's lives. Consider well the possibilities. Finally, if you wish, Michael, I wonder if you would occupy my bed tonight. I am lonely and would enjoy your presence. After he had hugged Larry in an outer hallway, the big blond joined the Master - or was it the pater familiis? "When I was a young man at university," the Count said as he shed the last of his clothes, "classic Greek sculpture was my great love. Although he is a little muscular, Larry probably looks most like most of the young Greek athletes whom the ancient masters immortalized. You, however, remind me of one athlete, a somewhat larger youth, who was my favorite. Like you, he had a broad muscular chest and a heavily muscled back with prominent lats. The broad chest with its heavy pecs and the muscular back narrowed slowly, though his waist was that of a man and not a child. (Slowly, sensually, he lightly touched his lips to those parts of the lad that he was examining.) The olive oil is softening your skin, Michael, but I can not imagine it being more perfect. Like the Greek athlete of my youth, your torso is filled with so many muscles from the rib cage to below the navel that I don't know if my lips can count them! Mike giggled spontaneously. Not only did the attention please him, but he was also slightly ticklish. The Count grinned and continued. "The glory of your perfect body, however, lies below the navel. The Count swiped his tongue in a broad circle around the tanned, almost perfectly flat lower stomach of the beautiful seventeen-year- old, trying to lift some flesh with his lips. As Mike's tight muscles defeated him, he laughed softly and tried again, only to fail a second time. The glory of your physique, however, my boy, lies in the girdle you share with the god Apollo. Again slowly, the powerful man's tongue and lips traced the heavy line of cartilage that separated the boy's imposing torso from his classic thighs. "I wonder if any sculptor could adequately represent this glorious flesh in marble - or, for that matter, the powerful, muscular calves that support it," he murmured - "as I wonder if your noble equipment could be recreated in ANY medium!" His eyes focused on the great pillar that quivered before his eyes, flushing, pulsing, generating rivulets of crystalline liquid. As he tried to swallow without success, the boy's eyes focused on him as if hypnotized, begging... wanting...needing. "Please," his dried, cracked lips croaked, "please." Like a snake striking, the man's hand went to the boy's throat in a cruel motion that long predated modern man. "You are mine, you know," the powerful lord growled. "Yes, I know and I accept," the young knight hoarsely swore the ancient oath. Turning him over with a practiced hand, the lord crouched protectively over his subject, taking what was his. (A New Beginning) At breakfast, the Count mentioned that he was changing their bedroom into his wing of the castle and suggested that they check out the larger room when they were finished. When the opened the door and deposited their packs on the floor, their lower jaws just about followed. Open doors to two armoires disclosed that they were full of designer clothing; sports and photographic equipment rested everywhere. On the twin desks, the boys found a variety of brochures (on subjects such as skiing in the Alps, football championships, the Croatian Olympics Federation, and much more). There was also a book that described university programs in both Croatia and Germany. The excited boys tried their very best to dress, but after two years everything felt heavy and seemed to irritate their skin. Rather than take more time, they roared downstairs au naturel where they located the Count on a terrace overlooking the wild, rocky coast. "Sir! Sir! Sir!" the words spilled out of their mouths like lava from an erupting volcano. Holding them lovingly, he told them to calm themselves. "I fully understand that you are pleased and that you are grateful," he said. "You will remember that I said that the nature of our relationship was primarily up to you. I knew what I wanted, but you had to decide. Over the last day or two, I realized that you have decided. You have made me happy beyond all men. "Now come with me. I haven't used that speedboat of mine for several years. Though it's an older model, it may amuse you." The boys were rather walking on air as they trudged down to a small private dock and boathouse. That which they found had their eyes out on stalks akin to a snail's. That damned speedboat, one of the badest, meanest machines they had ever seen, had to be 40' long! When everyone was ready, the Count settled himself in the cockpit where he flicked the ignition switch and hit the starters. Twin V-8s exploded into life with a deafening roar and then settled into an idle aurally reminiscent of a funny car lined up at a drag strip's Christmas tree. "Can she move?" Mike yelled above the roar, in part trying to be funny. "Yes, indeed," the Count shouted. "She'll hit 85 mph in 20 seconds and buzz along at well over 100 mph. Will that do?" (Author's Note: Thank you, Robert Farago, "Great Machines: Boats - Sunseeker Portofino 35" in the "Robb Report" for 2003.) Their mouths open, their eyes rolling, hanging onto each other lest they collapse, the boys tried to adjust to a new world. To Be Continued