Date: Mon, 29 Dec 2003 17:58:38 -0700
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "The Chosen One From Nongkhai: Part Three:  Lavender" (m/b)

                      Part Three: Lavender

Lord Phanomyong let his satin robe slip from his shoulders and fall about
his feet, and stepping back, he sat down on the foot of the large, canopied
bed. The soft mattress sank beneath his weight as he leaned back and slowly
drew himself up onto that altar where countless maidenheads and the
puckered prunes of hundreds of young boys had been sacrificed. Beside the
bed was the large mirror so he could watch his image and that of the other
as they enjoyed the delights of the bedchamber. On the opposite side of the
bed stood an ornate stand of sandalwood upon which sat a unique
chronometer, the gift from the Sultan of Ishtar, who enjoyed the same
delights of the bedchamber as he. It consisted of eight vials of fine sand
arranged in two rows of four vials each, the vials in the back row twice
the size of the vials in the front. Each vial was constricted in the
middle, and each pair had a slightly narrower neck progressing from right
to left. The vials were supported by a rectangular frame of highly polished
yellowish-brown teak which was set in a stand of the same material so the
vials could be inverted.

Once they were inverted, the sands of time began to flow, the large vial on
the right taking twice as long to empty as the smaller vial in front of it,
the large vial to its left taking twice as long to empty as the one on the
right, the large one to its left taking as long as the first two combined,
and the last vial taking four times as long as the first vial.  In all, the
eight vials took precisely one-sixth of the time that passed from one
sunrise to the next to empty.  Only the very rich owned vials of sand to
measure the passage of time, and none were as beautiful as this, and
nowhere in the land was one that measured time in eight fractions. The
Sultan of Ishtar had called the chronometer The Sands of Delight, and had
claimed to have once made love for as long as it took the eight vials to
empty. Whether it was true or a boast, Lord Phanomyong did not know, but he
himself, had managed to make love during the draining of the first six
vials before he was spent.

Inverting the chronometer, Lord Phanomyong turned and looked across the
room at the boy who had remained standing where he had left him. The boy
looked directly into his master's eyes but made no move to approach the
bed.

"You may begin," the Lord ordered, pleased that the boy knew his place, but
irritated by his hesitancy and timidness. He inhaled deeply as he reminded
himself that the boy was, after all, a simple peasant lad, and this was the
first time he'd have been alone with a man in his bedchamber. It was also
likely the first time he'd ever been away from his parents for so long, and
likely the first opportunity he'd had to put his uncle's lessons into
practice.

"Forgive me, my Lord, for I mean you and your ancestors no discourtesy,"
the boy replied softly as he looked down at his naked toes, "but I am
afraid."

"Afraid? Afraid of what?"

"I know my Lord has sworn a vow of promise just moments ago for I heard it
with my own ears, and I know the Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu would
never willingly break a vow uttered by his own lips, but I am afraid that
once my Lord experiences the pleasures of Nuad Bo-Rarn as practised at the
Wat Pho in Settakorn, that his arousal will be so great the Fierce Tiger of
the Jungle will be unable to refrain from demanding the duty I am obligated
by the law of the land to provide. I would not wish to place my Lord in a
position of breaking his oath, but I fear that with my limited training and
inept understanding of the way of men, I might ignite passions which
neither of us will be able to control."

"And how do you propose we avoid such a thing from happening?" the Lord
asked with a smile, humouring the boy. The peasant child was articulate and
evidently intelligent for the son of a rice farmer, and that combined with
his rustic simplicity and honesty, intrigued and excited Lord Phanomyong as
much as did the boy's beauty. He had experienced many delights in his time,
and many Chosen Ones had performed their duty and pleasured him well, but
very few had ever pleased him to the extent that he had lost control over
himself, and certainly not one had ever presumed to suggest possessing such
power.

Still, it had on the rarest of occasions happened. He smiled as he thought
of how wonderful that experience was, to be driven by lust to act on the
most bestial and savage level, and of those few exceptional boys out of
hundreds who had brought him to that point of total abandon. Looking across
the bed chamber at the newest Chosen One selected to serve him standing
there in only a skimpy white thong and four silk scarves and staring down
at his feet in apprehension, Lord Boroma Phanomyong felt an ache of desire
deep in his groin and an inner sense that this was going to be one of those
exceptional boys.

Many Chosen Ones had approached his bed with anxiety, and just as many with
outright fear.  Some had submitted to his desires with a resolve born out
of duty, some had submitted with pride, and even some with desire, but none
had ever approached his bed with a concern for his probity. He studied the
boy, delighting in his innocence and beauty, aroused by his smoldering,
dark brown, almond-shaped eyes, the delicate curve of his penis under his
thong, and the smallness and smoothness of his buttocks. The boy was a
unique treasure and radiated with the promise of great delight like the
coals in a brazier on a cold winter night.

"In order that my Lord does not break his vow in the lust madness that my
simple ministrations might arouse, if he may, this lowly servant and
unworthy would humbly propose that my Lord's limbs be tied to the bed posts
so he will be unable to act upon whatever carnal desires that may arise and
which would cause him to do that which he would later be remorseful for
having done."

A snort of laughter burst from Lord Phanomyong's fat lips and his pig-like
eyes crinkled with merriment at the boy's confidence and his courage to
address him so. Such were the charms of the young and innocent, charms that
drew him to those who had not yet reached their age of maturity and who had
not yet been tarnished by the realities and harshness of life. The boy was
only speaking the truth as he saw it. With an indulgent smile, he spread
apart his arms and legs and bade the boy to tie him into position. Removing
the first of the long, multicoloured scarves from about his neck, the boy
tied it about the thick wrist of his master's right hand and about the
ornately carved right post of the canopied bed. The warmth of the boy's
small, near-naked body against his, and the satiny feel of his smooth skin
as it brushed against his own heightened Lord Phanomyong's
ardour. Similarly tying his other wrist to the other post, the boy turned
around to tie his master's ankles to the lower bed posts. The sight of the
boy's small, round backside, the thong concealing only the crack between
his cheeks and that portal to his chamber of delights, caused Lord
Phanomyong's member to begin to swell in anticipation. He desired the boy's
backside with a desire that made his loins ache, and although even before
the boy had arrived at his bedchamber he had resolved not to take him this
first night, and even though he had just sworn a vow not too, the sight of
his firm, golden buttocks rendered his resolve and his vow meaningless. He
was the Favoured son of the Great God Xiu, and he would do as the gods
decreed.

As the boy tightened the last knot and stood up, the warrior-lord
smiled. He admired the boy's confidence and even more so his precaution,
but he was Master Over all That Is, Was, and Will Be and a man of no little
experience, and he knew the Chosen One, despite his beauty and his intent,
would never be able to bring him pleasure greater than he'd ever felt
before by a mere massage. The boy's tight young ass would be his for the
taking, and the only question was, would he take it this night?

Having tied the Lord to the bed posts, the near-naked boy walked over to
his wicker basket, and opening it, took out a small brown earthenware
jar. Opening it, he took the smallest possible pinch of the pale violet
paste contained within it and smeared it over his left palm, and then
rubbed his palms together. The sweet, unmistakable floral aroma of lavender
wafted through the room. Kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, the
slender boy firmly grasped his master's right foot in his two hands and
began to knead it, loosening each toe and relaxing the foot's many muscles,
tendons, bones and ligaments while stimulating the hundreds of nerve
endings forming a web on the surface. His hands were exceedingly small in
comparison to the Lord's large foot, and his slender fingers surprisingly
strong.

Lord Phanomyong closed his eyes and sighed as he relaxed. He felt the boy's
thumb probe the inner sole of his foot and then cross up the meaty,
calloused ball to his large toe. Working back down, probing softly but
firmly across the fleshy ball and back down his inner sole, the boy
repeated the cycle, this time up to the long, fat toe beside the largest
and back down. So the boy massaged his Lord's foot, his lavender-oiled
fingers working up and down from the inner sole to the other three toes and
back. Lord Phanomyong sighed again as he felt the tendons and muscles in
his foot relax. Despite his claim of ineptitude, the boy had a skill that
was far beyond his age.  Finally leaving his Lord's right foot, he went on
to the left foot and repeated his actions. His master squirmed and spread
apart his toes in delight. Normally curled and cramped from supporting his
massive weight, his toes felt better than they had felt for the past
decade.

Dipping his thumb in the jar of lavender, the boy who would no longer be
known by the name Luan Ramayana but only as The Chosen One even after
death, pressed the oiled digit against the inside of the Lord's heel, and
then bending and relaxing his thumb so that it humped along his master's
foot like a silkworm, he slowly worked up to the base of the big toe and
back down again, pausing at any tender spots and breaking up with his thumb
the crystal deposits that tension had left. The Master Over all That Is,
Was, and Will Be sighed as a tingling sensation passed up his sore back as
water is sucked up by a sponge, and the dull pain that had been plaguing
him for months began to dissipate. Over and over the boy worked his thumb
until he was satisfied that he had completely reduced the crystals of
tension.  Regularly coating his thumb with lavender, he walked it across
the instep and ball of the other foot, and up and down and across all ten
toes. As the boy slowly performed his duty, Lord Phanomyong felt the
tension in his muscles subside, and a calm, relaxing feeling passed over
him.

Moving up to the ankles of the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle and stretching
apart his arms, the boy slowly and gently began to massage the swollen
flesh. He carefully worked the lavender oil into the skin as he gently
squeezed the bulging flesh which had filled with liquid from supporting the
Lord's weight all day. The lavender relieved the pain, and the boy's
palpitating fingers worked the fluid out of the cavities it had filled. The
boy slowly and gently ran his oiled fingertips in concentric circles over
the protruding ankle bone of each foot simultaneously, beginning on the
outside of his master's legs and working about his ankle to the inside
bone.  Once again Lord Phanomyong felt his manhood pulse and begin to
swell. In the drowsiness and warm contentment that had overtaken his mind,
he had momentarily forgotten his lust, and the reason for the boy being in
his bedchamber. The boy moved up past the ankle bones and ran his
forefingers in tight concentric circles just above each projection and then
slowly in tight circles all around them. The Lord's penis extended further
and began to rise, slowly swelling like a feeding leech, and he felt the
heat of desire begin to build deep in the pit of his pelvis.

Slipping both hands about the warrior Lord's right calf just above his
ankle, the boy's fingertips just barely met. He squeezed and then released
the tense muscle, gently at first, and then more firmly. Slowly he worked
his way back down over the man's ankle and back down along the sides of his
right foot, always gently kneading and probing his flesh. His Lord sighed
with the pleasure passing not just through his foot, but up the
ninety-third Sen, the energy line that flows from a man's right foot to his
member, and through his engorged flesh. The boy slipped over to his
master's other foot and wrapping both hands about his master's left calf
just above his ankle, he again squeezed and released the tense muscle and
began to work his way down his left ankle and along the sides of his left
foot. As the pleasure flowed through his foot and up the ninety- fourth Sen
to his now pulsating cock, he sighed with desire.

The warrior-lord's member had, without him really being aware of it, fully
distended, and was now standing upright and throbbing pleasantly between
his legs. It pulsated in time with his heart and the blood flowing through
his ankles, and for the first time he became cognizant of the connection
among the three. Despite the desire that had welled up from his loins and
was now making his fat, stiff cock glow warmly, his heart beat slowly, as
did the long thick tube that was his claim to manhood and his source of
pleasure, and as did his thick ankles. Never had he been so aware of his
circulation nor the rhythmic pulsation of his stiff cock as it, his heart,
and his ankles throbbed in unison. Surprisingly relaxing and soothing, the
boy's ministrations had reduced the pressure of his blood and he felt calm
and refreshed, and yet the boy's foot and ankle massage had been highly
erotic, so that he also felt a demanding need for his thick, blood-
engorged cock to be fondled.

Glancing over at the chronometer, he was surprised to find that four of the
eight vials had drained from the top to the bottom. He had been erect
during at least the draining of the last vial, and his aching cock was now
demanding its share of attention. Forming a "U" shape with his thumb and
fingers, the boy slipped them about his master's large right toe and tugged
on it, at first gently, and then more firmly. Kneeling there at the foot of
the bed, the boy, clad only in his white thong, looked up at his master
seductively as his fingers and thumb slide up and down his large toe, and
the image of the young boy tugging on his little pricklet, which was
probably no longer and even thinner than the warrior-lord's large digit,
flashed through Lord Phanomyong's mind. His towering cock jerked wildly
with the thought of the boy tugging on his toe in the same manner as he
tugged on his boyhood in the privacy of his own bedchamber.

The boy finally lowered his eyes, as if he had read his master's mind, and
slipping up on the large, canopied bed, he reached out and his fingertips
gently, almost imperceptibly, brushed the engorged knob of his master's
towering staff. The desire to cum immediately welled up deep in his loins,
the power and need so great it surprised him. His foreskin had slipped down
as he had grown erect, and the boy's fingertips now barely brushed the
ridge of his large, exposed plum, causing his stiff member to twitch and
ache for another caress. Ever so lightly, like the kiss of a butterfly, the
boy's oiled fingertips landed on the sensitive ridge and lifted off. Over
and over they touched and lightly caressed and the warrior Lord's need to
release his seed doubled with each touch until his cock ached and wagged
its head as if scolding the boy.  Greater and greater became the need until
he felt himself approaching that brink beyond which he would not be able to
hold back his seed.

Before Lord Boroma Phanomyong reached that point, the Chosen One deserted
his lust-swollen cock and returned to the largest toe of his other
foot. His cock twitched angrily at the sudden departure of the boy's
fingers and in desperation as the first tear of pre-cum oozed out of the
pee slit, but the boy persisted in ignoring the thick, leaking member and
instead tugged on the Lord's second toe. Ever so slowly his desire subsided
and the flow of his pre-cum ceased as the sexual tension dissipated. Just
as he had regained his composure, the boy's hands returned to tease his
cock with his butterfly touch and to slowly bring him back to that peak a
second time. He inhaled deeply, and the faint, sweet, musty fragrance of
lavender filled his lungs.  As he once again almost reached that point of
orgasm, once again the boy teasingly deserted his twitching, aching shaft
and returned to tug now on the second largest toe of his other foot.

Laying flat on his back with his arms and legs outspread, Lord Phanomyong
raised his head and looked over at the boy kneeling on the bed to his
right. He was short and slender, about thirteen hands tall and five stone
in weight, his ribs and his shoulder blades protruding from his thin
body. His skin, the colour and smoothness of butterscotch, had a fine sheen
of perspiration from almost two-and-a-half hours of massaging his Lord. The
boy's skin was unblemished, and when the boy's knees or his naked thighs
brushed against him as the boy bent over to massage his ankle or tug on one
of his toes, Lord Phanomyong's cock jerked with desire.

The boy's dark brown, almond-shaped eyes stared straight ahead, deep in
concentration as the young masseuse recalled his uncle's instructions and
palpitated the fleshy pad of his master's right foot, this spot causing a
sensation of calm to flow along one of the seventy-two thousand energy
lines that his people called Sen, the next spot causing his Lord's loins to
ache for sexual release. The boy's eyes were deep with concentration, but
still smoldered with that raw lust that only the eyes of youth can have.

The warrior-lord studied the boy's body as desire filled his loins, his
eyes passing from the boy's gorgeous face, down past his tiny, pert nipples
and down his thin, tapering chest and ribs to his narrow waist. Lord
Phanomyong's entire body ached for the boy and he sighed with his lust as
the boy once again turned his attention to his cock. As the boy's oiled
fingers lightly caressed the rim of his knob and palpitated his now deep
purple, spongy plum, the warrior-lord twisted with the stabs of pleasure
that shot through his irritated glans and down the thick shaft. He noticed
that the boy's white thong was tented out, the top pushed so far out that
it was pulled away from his body. The thin silk material clearly showed the
outline of the boy's small, hairless balls and his tiny erection, the
digit-like organ no thicker than his master's thumb and only a fraction
longer, the slightly larger knob still encased in his skin. Lord Phanomyong
was pleased to see the man- child was as aroused as he was as he trembled
and ached with the desire to release his creamy load. Closer and closer he
reached that point and unable to hold back his reserve, and seeing no need
to, he heaved his body upward, raising his hips off the bed as he willed
with his mind the flow of his seed. The boy immediately stopped his
palpitations and sat back on the edge of the bed while his Lord strained at
his bonds and tensed his body, but he was unable to bring himself past that
crucial point on his own.

The boy's fingers returned to his aching, rock-hard cock for the fourth
time, and the moment his fingertips touched the sensitized plum, the desire
to cum welled up immediately, and the fingers lightly caressed the knob but
a dozen times and were gone least they trigger the release of his master's
seed. As the boy tugged on his smallest toe, he told the boy he'd had
enough and demanded the boy return to his member and finish the job he had
begun, but the boy did not heed the demand. He did not even look up at the
Lord, and instead stared at his oiled fingers as he tugged on first one and
then the other of his master's smallest toes as if repeating his tutor's
instructions in his mind. However, behind that look of concentration was
the look of smoldering, boyish lust and Lord Phanomyong had the impression
the boy was thinking of the delight of tugging on his own little bone.

It would have normally taken a long time for his desire to subside, but his
anger now with the boy who dared to ignore his commands redirected his
energies and the focus of his mind. So, when the boy reached for his still
stiff cock for the fifth time, it was with both anger and desire that Lord
Phanomyong pulled on the silk cords binding his wrists, and flexed his
massive, powerful legs to lift his hips up off the bed as the boy grasped
his thick cock by the base. At two hands in length, two-thirds of his
member extended beyond the grasp of the boy's small fist.

His limbs bulged with the straining muscles, but all his efforts succeeded
in doing was to tighten the knots of the silken scarves binding him to the
bed posts. He now ordered the boy to untie him, and when the boy ignored
him as one who is deaf, the Lord ordered him to straddle his body and to
sit upon his swollen member, but still the boy ignored him. With his
cockhead now burning as if it had been touched by ivy and not the fragrant
leaves of lavender, he reminded the boy who was the master, and when that
had the same results as his other demands, he threatened the boy with death
if he did not obey his demand.

It was not the first time the guard just outside the sliding partition to
the bedchamber had heard his Lord shout with anger, but usually it was
because of some incompetence of one of the Lord's concubines, or in the
final days of a Chosen One when the boy could no longer satisfy his master.
Never had he heard words such as these, and never on the maiden night of a
new Chosen One.  The man sighed and tried to block the angry words from his
ears. It was a shame, especially this latest boy being not only so
attractive, but also so pleasant, but it was not the first time, and would
probably not be the last, that a boy had failed to live up to his Lord's
expectations on that first night. The guard ground his teeth as the curses
became louder and more demanding, and he himself cursed as he thought of
the beautiful young boy being lead away to the shrine of Agka, the God of
Death. Realizing what he'd just done, he quickly begged forgiveness, for
who was he to question his Lord, Protector of the People, and the gods of
the Land of the Tiger Eye?

Throughout Lord Phanomyong's thrashing and angry orders, the boy had kept
his grasp about the base of his organ and had tugged on it as he had with
his toes. The Fierce Tiger of the Jungle closed his eyes and gritted his
teeth and willed himself to come. He panted like a man who had run a
thousand strides in full armour, and his body ached and perspired just as
badly. As the boy slid his fingers up his shaft to enclose his plum, he
thrust his hips up off the mattress and the silk scarves binding his limbs
drew still tighter as once more the need to cum built up deep in his
loins. Instead of withdrawing his fingertips this time, the boy ran them
firmly around the ridge of the blood-engorged, ruddy plum, bringing his
Lord closer to that point of no return than he ever had before. Inhaling
deeply and holding his breath in anticipation of his climax, the
warrior-Lord braced himself for the release of his seed. Then just as he
expected to feel the twang deep in his loins that announced the
commencement of his eruption, he felt the boy's forefinger press sharply
against the cord at the base of his balls.

His spasms were like those of a man having a seizure and he gasped with the
ecstasy of his orgasm, a powerful orgasm, but one without seed. His body
jerked uncontrollably and as he thrust his hips up and smashed his hips
back down against the soft mattress the huge warrior-lord whimpered with
the sweet pain of his climax. The slit at the tip of his swollen cock
opened and closed and he pushed out with his groin with all his strength,
but no matter how hard he tried, he could not ejaculate. His body continued
to twitch and ache as wave after wave of ecstasy passed over him. He raised
his body and held it suspended above the mattress as he cried out in such
pain that the guard at his door was sorely tempted to enter his mater's
chambers despite the strict instructions not to do so. He had heard his
Lord cry out with that sweet death many times before, and especially on the
first night, but never with such passion, and although he found no delight
in young boys, the guard envied his master for his pleasure.

Lord Phanomyong gasped and whimpered and cursed, and his body thrashed and
his blood- engorged plum burned furiously in its ache for the familiar
pleasure of having his seed gush out of the irritated slit, but such
pleasure was not to come. For several more long minutes the boy kept up the
pressure of that single digit directly below his tight, contracted
pomegranates until the huge man stopped thrashing and his breathing began
to return to normal and the desire to release his seed had subsided. The
warrior-lord collapsed in exhaustion, his large chest heaving as he gasped
for breath, a warm flush of post-climatic relief passing over his naked
body and replacing the slowly diminishing tension.

The sand in the seventh vial had just begun to drain, and it would take
until half the vial had drained before he would recover enough to open his
eyes. His chest rose and fell rhythmically as he recalled the past three
candlemarks. Never before had he felt such pleasure and desire, and never
before had he been filled with such lust nor desired the release of his
seed so badly. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up into the still
smoldering, almond-shaped eyes of the boy from Nongkhai.

"Are you all right, my Lord?" the boy asked softly and with genuine
concern.

Lord Phanomyong paused and then replied in the affirmative.

"Does my Lord wish me to untie him and bend over now to accept my destiny?"

Again Lord Phanomyong paused, but this time his response was in the
negative. With only the slightest of smiles curing the corners of his lips,
the only visible sign of his relief, the boy slid up on the bed and reached
over to untie the silk scarf binding his Lord's right wrist. The sight and
feel of his naked body against his own caused an ache deep his master's
loins, but in comparison to the ache he'd just felt it was minor, and it
was not an ache he wished fulfilled. The pleasure of his violent, dry
orgasm had been like no other pleasure he had ever felt before, and it had
been so powerful, and had so drained him of energy and of lust, that
slipping his sword into the boy's sheaf now would be anti climatic, and he
knew it could not possibly equal the pleasure that had caused him to call
out as if in pain half an hour ago.

He had pulled so hard in his effort to get loose, and in the ecstasy of his
dry climax, that the knots of the scarves holding his limbs had been pulled
too tight for the boy to unfasten. The bound man lay there quietly and let
the boy struggle for a while so he might regain his composure. He finally
directed the boy to an ornate redwood cabinet in the corner of the room
where he kept a small knife in one of the many drawers for the purpose of
pealing fruit or slicing cheese. The boy lamented having to cut the fine
silk scarves, and apologized almost to the point of tears for being unable
to untie the knots. Only after assuring him that they could be easily
replace, and that he need not fear being punished for cutting them, did he
cut the bonds that bound his master to the bed.

Having done so, the boy slipped off the bed and returned the knife, and
then stoppered and replaced the vial in his wicker basket. He stood there
respectfully, waiting his Lord's orders.

"You may return to your room now," Lord Phanomyong announced.

The boy bowed low with respect, his head parallel to his navel, and slowly
backed up across the bed chamber. Feeling for the sliding screen behind
him, he finally found it and sliding the panel open, he stepped back over
the raised sill. As the ornately engraved panel slid closed, Lord Boroma
Phanomyong, Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, Fierce Tiger of the Jungle,
Defender of the People, and Master Over all That Is, Was and Will Be stared
at it blankly. In the morning he would send the uncle of Luan Ramayana one
of the finest rubies he owned in thanks for the gem that the tiny village
of Nongkhai had provided him.

Next: Part Four: Bergamot