Date: Sun, 5 Mar 2017 13:29:46 -0500
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: The Heathens 8

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/the-heathens/) for warnings and
copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your
local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but
flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty
**TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

He quickly shoved two massive fingers in my mouth and I suckled and nursed
them in true desperation. Harcos would push in, forcing my cocklet into his
massive thigh, then wiggle or prod or strum that wondrous, horrible,
unbelievable spot with his barbarian claw. Over and over and over. I was
out of my mind with need until he pushed in hard, one final time, and began
to rhythmically thump that tiny knot of flesh inside. Cum exploded from me
like a fountain. I bucked and whinnied like a colt; growled and roared like
a lion cub; squealed and grunted like a piglet as my seed flew out of me as
if to flood the world. And with that, sound went away and my vision shrank
from the edges to a single glowing point before winking away, and taking me
with it.

*****

The Heathens 8: Blessings

By Bear Pup

M/T; oral; piss; comradery

I slept and dreamt the dreams of God and His angelic host. Unlike all my
previous dreams of His glory, though, where the voices were clear but the
forms vague and shadowed, my dream had changed, and for the better. God
upon his heavenly throne had not the white hair of scripture but a rich,
thick, leonine mane of chestnut hair, carved and curled like that of my
master, rightful since he was my God. His form was thickly muscled as befit
the Great God, and the Staff of Judgment he held sparkled with gold just
like his eyes. I feared His voice (I always had), thunderous and mighty and
stern.

Surrounding him was the angelic host, are naked and unashamed as God
himself. I found that to his left, one was none other than Strasta, lean
and fit and healed, smiling upon me in benediction. It was he who stepped
forth and spoke, tones ringing and forceful.

"You do well, young Christian. You have left the false ideals and warped
teachings of a man and woman who have twisted the Holy Word beyond
comprehension or deliverance. You have learned the love that the Christ
taught us, his true children.

"Serve Harcos as you would serve the Lord, my child, and learn true
compassion. Never relinquish your faith, my son, and never shy from the
battles you will face. Harcos may be ignorant of it himself, but he is His
holy soldier, sent to heal the Word and the World. Your duty, your mission,
your life's work is to ensure that he can complete his tasks. Be his
helpmeet in all things, and serve him with the joy and reverence that you
feel toward the Heavenly Father and His son, our saviour the Lord Jesus.

"The Holy Spirit will be with you, but your own hand, your own heart, your
own power must become the shield that protects Harcos just as he will
protect you, my child. Become his son. Become his Jewel. Become his
sanctuary in time of need and pain.

"Awake now, the one he knows as Kucuk and Dasqas. Your false names, Ayib
and Boseth, were offensive to God and intended to damage, not strengthen
your immortal soul. Your true name, my child, is also your destiny. You are
Szentely, a word from the language of his soul; you are his sanctum, his
penetralia, his chancel... his true and impenetrable sanctuary. Tell him
your name when the time is right, but not until. I give you His Holy
Benediction, Szentley. Awake now, Szentely, awake and fulfil your mission
for Harcos as the Christ did for all of us, and in the same spirit of
selfless sacrifice."

And I was awake in that instant, enfolded in the arms as mighty as those of
God Himself, wreathed in the incense of Harcos' body and the warmth of his
soul.

Without doubt or sound, I moved down and drew him into my mouth, not as an
act of lust as yesterday, but as an act of duty to God and his soldier, my
master, my Harcos. This was my daily sacrament, and I would savour it. I
stroked his tummy with a firm and coaxing downward pressure until my
suckling was rewarded with his acrid piss. When the stream slackened, I
began to work on his cock in earnest, and allowed my hands to explore his
secret places.

Harcos moaned in his slumber as I teased and stroked the area behind those
enormous balls. To touch him there was ecstasy for me, to know that I was
fulfilling his desire and His holy command. Another loud loan spurred me to
I move further. My fingers found his nether entrance and Harcos awoke with
a gasp of lustful pleasure.

The more I played with that sensitive twisted fold, the more Harcos writhed
-- and thus did I as well, his own pleasure driving through his cock and
into my body. I could not yet plunge him into my throat (I determined to
pray for that very skill when next we slept), but I suckled and gnawed and
licked beneath the thick, redolent skin at the head of his prick. Suddenly,
that pucker of skin beneath my teasing fingers began to twitch and wriggle
and Harcos let out a bellow like a bull being sacrificed to a Heathen god
and his sacred seed poured into me, a stream without end and one that I
longed to experience through to heaven itself.

He pulled me up to him, plunging his tongue deep past my lips, tasting his
own seed in my mouth. His hand moved down to me and I groaned into the
passionate kiss. Harcos gasped and pulled back, looking down at my own
private-most parts. I was sopping with my own orgasm, not even realising I
had erupted as the pleasure I brought my Master had force my own seed
out. I simply smiled in contented bliss at his look of delighted shock
before he once again pulled me to him, devouring my mouth, then throat,
then chest, kissing everything he could reach and caressing the rest.

Finally, Harcos came to himself and simply laid, smiling at me and petting
my head. "You are my true jewel, my Dasqas, my Kucuk, my puppy." I almost
cried with exultant joy as he said this, and I clung to him. Eventually, I
got him equipped for a day of travel and saw to myself as well; I caught a
broad smile as he saw me strap my Agyar to my right haunch, that same place
he carried his own larger dagger. I heated the water for our breakfast as
Harcos took some time to clean, hone and oil his weapons and armour.

We broke camp before dawn was complete, Harcos once again taking the straps
first as we set out. Within minutes, we were out of the valley in which I'd
lived my life and onto a broad river-plain, nearly a fen. It took
everything both of us had to get the cart across the innumerable streams
that the small river had spread into, but we were across before
midmorning. He forced me to rest for a while after, even though I was ready
to push onward immediately.

"We have a long day today, my puppy. Be thankful of rest whenever you can
get it."

I pestered him until he finally strapped me into the cross-harness and I
began to pull. The hills and mountains were always to our left as we headed
into the sun, south and east. As that sun rose so did the heat, stifling in
this broad, flat valley. I was soon sweating and cursing as the salt stung
my eyes nearly as much as the blasting, beating sunlight. Harcos came to
walk beside me and reached into the cart, pulling out a square of soft
cloth and a strip of leather which he tied around my brow, the cloth
covering my dark hair. The effect was instantaneous, the sweat wicked away
into the cloth and cooled by the breeze. I sigh and smiled my gratitude.

We finally stopped for the hour of noon, eating the rabbit Harcos has
smoked, the salt reviving me as well as the cool water of the skins (there
was no handy spring here). We sat in the shade of a wide tree alien to me,
a thing of the spreading plains not the towering hills.

Harcos was sprawled next to me, enjoying the respite.

"Harcos..." I hesitated and stopped.

"Yes, puppy?"

"Can I ask for a new word?"

"Of course."

"A new word from your true tongue?"

He quieted and looked at me seriously. His face was blank, but his eyes
alive as he searched my own deeply. "Yes."

"What is a blessing, a gift from the Gods?"

He stared at me a long, long time. His voice quieter still, so soft as to
worry me that I'd offended him somehow, "That is an aldas, little
one. Why?"

"May..." I lost my voice in his unwavering and unblinking gaze. My heart
raced and my breathing became shallow, but I could not bear that gaze a
moment longer and blurted out, "May I call you Aldas? When alone, my mas--
Harcos? You, you are my gr-greatest blessing." Like a baby, I began to
cry. Harcos looked me for a moment then leant forward, collecting me in his
arms.

His voice was sombre, sad, introspective. "Quiet, my Dasqas, my wondrous
little jewel. I am no blessing. I come from no gods. But I am honoured that
you think me so. You may... may call that if you wish. You, my Dasqas, are
more of a gem than I could ever have known. You are more precious than I
believed." He rocked me silently and I felt a moisture on my hair. I feared
looking up, for it might break the spell, and I knew that Harcos, my
master, my blessing, my Aldas, could not be crying.

We made hard time that afternoon, alternating in the harness, and we were
both sore and snappish when the smokes of a moderate-sized village came to
the horizon. Harcos stopped and pulled me to him. I would have sworn he
said we were about to enter Cock and began to giggle before he corrected
me. The settlement whose smoke we could see was Qakh.

"Places where no people are *may* be dangerous. Places where people always
are, they will *always* be dangerous." My giggle fled like mist. "Never,
ever let down your guard when surrounded by strangers. Never let your
attention waver, your thoughts stray. Look in all directions are once, my
Kucuk. And watch me closely for guidance."

He taught me some subtle hand-signals for stop and hurry, for possible
threat and immediate danger, for vigilance and shadows, for when he would
want me to look and where and how (innocent, curious, suspicious,
on-guard). I was now keyed to a state of fear as he put me into the
quick-to-drop shoulder straps.

"And now I have scared you, Kucuk. You should be scared and wary, my little
puppy, but you must show the world confidence, even arrogance, the stance
of a warrior worried about nothing but his next meal. Threatened by none
and by nothing. Show me, puppy, the face of your inner guard-dog."

I did my best and Harcos burst out laughing. "You want to be calm, powerful
and unworried, not randy and resolute on mounting a bitch in heat, son! Try
more confidence and less ferocity, less need, my puppy." When I finally was
'not terrible', we proceeded. Harcos has assumed his longer sword in
addition to his dagger, and strapped on a pair of boiled-leather arm-guards
that could easily deflect a sharp edge or blunt weapon.

We walked into Qakh, a bustling little town of merchants where three roads
came together to cross a river that, in spring, would rush is a fierce
torrent but in fall, like now, was a dried bed of rock-hard mud pierced by
small, meandering streams.

It was also a town of bustling, jostling traders with mean and beady little
eyes. They appraised me thoughtfully, but looked away if Harcos caught
their eye. I might be prey, but Harcos a predator not to be challenged.

Harcos froze and signalled me to stop and be at maximum alert when we both
heard his name hailed.

The crowd parted and a man shorter than Harcos with a strong but sinister
air again shouted Harcos' name. The tension seemed to leave Harcos'
shoulders but he signalled me to stay alert, wary, ready for conflict. The
man moved forward and I saw he was accompanied by a boy and a girl, both
younger than myself by some years, the boy pulling a cart smaller than but
similar to that I pulled.

"Magare! What brings your ratty carcass to this dusty town?"

"Same as you, I expect. I needed new... companions before I settled to
Winter Over." He looked at me appraisingly, like a lamb he thought to
purchase, considering the various chops and stews I would produce. "Looks
like you have done well. I remember that you like... a less tender cut of
meat than I." There was a leer and an insulting smirk there, and I saw the
muscles of my master's back ripple. Harcos laughed, though, but I could
hear the tension in his voice.

"It would be a poor banquet if there was only a single dish on offer. Do
you have business here?"

"My only business is the cross of the riverbed, which we will do
tomorrow. I am looking for a place to rest the night. You?"

I could see Harcos struggle, not wanting to be near this man and his
'companions', but also not wanting to give offense. They fell into step and
I trailed Harcos as the boy and girl (both, I could tell, confused and
terrified) followed Magare. Harcos' relief was visible and genuine when
another voice called out.

"Harcos! You barbarian fox! Good to see you!" The voice came from a short
barrel of a man with two enormous adzes strapped across his back.

"By the gods, if it isn't Pameten! Where are you camped? Did you find a
replacement for, um..."

"Igracka?" There was genuine grief in the man's face. "Yes. He was special,
it was a blow to my heart to lose him. He... he didn't live two nights. The
Utik blade was grimed and he... passed in fever and pain."

Harcos gripped his shoulder, hard. "You treated him well, and he was both
good and true. His gods will welcome that young warrior to their feast,
Pam."

Pameten shook himself and was back to an all-business, jovial man. "Where
are you bedded, you flea-ridden chicken-taker?"

Magare, obviously affronted to be ignored throughout, spoke over my
master's start of an answer. "He and I were finding a place when you
interrupted, Pameten. You will excuse us?"

Pameten was obviously even less enamoured with Magare that Harcos, and less
willing to gloss it over. He never even looked at the weaselly man, "Come
now, Harcos, even with all those fleas you'd be welcome to join my fire."
He looked to me and smiled, "And your new kitfox as well."

Harcos signalled me to follow as he subtly shifted away from Magare, who
either didn't spot the hint or couldn't care. He smacked the butt of the
boy strapped to his own cart and followed us. I could see the tension
return to my master's shoulder and sense his frown.

Pameten walked for nearly a quarter-hour before we emerged on the edge of
town, an area obviously favoured by travellers and merchants
overnighting. There was indeed room next to the man's fire for our cart,
but not for two. With ill-grace, Magare moved a few spans away. I saw him
cuff both the boy and girl as they frantically tried to set up the
unfamiliar tent (unlike out cart, his had no built-in shelter) and start a
cookfire.

Pameten scratched an odd pattern on this own shelter, similar to that of
Harcos but not attached to the cart, and a furtive, worried face peeked
out. It was a lad, perhaps my age or a bit older, clearly terrified at the
crowd of people. I did my best not to stare as I set about our own
camp-making. Pameten and Harcos conversed in low but friendly voices and
split, Harcos came to me just as I completed the structure and he helped me
tie the stakes and tuck the cloth end-pieces in place. As he did, he spoke
softly to the tent, barely loud enough to hear.

"Kucuk, make no sign that we speak, but listen and closely." I did as we
continued to finish the tent, his words broken by pauses as we moved,
Harcos never betraying that a conversation was taking place. "You are in
danger here, much more than I. Do not leave this tent without me, unless it
is with Pameten. You can trust Pam with your life as I have done countless
times. He is with my cohort and a loyal friend. For NO reason come near to
Magare, and never, ever alone. Also, keep an eye on the youth that Pameten
calls Zajak, which means 'hare' to Pam as he is terrified and may bolt in
fear, and to his doom.

"If you have heard all, take the cookpot to the fire. If not, enter the
tent."

I turned as casually as I could and snagged the cookpot and the waterskin
and began to heat the water we would need for supper. Loudly, Harcos said,
"Pameten, I am off to bargain for meat. Have you a preference?"

With an unmistakable leer and a grope to his crotch, but a grave and
worried look in his eyes, the barrel-shaped soldier replied, "Beef, a big
chunk of muscle as you well know, you fox! None of the chickens and quail
you normally filch!" Harcos gave a hearty laugh and waded back into the
crowd. Pameten looked at me until he caught my eye, then gestured to his
tent. I fussed about with the pot for a bit before stepping to the man's
tent and slithering inside.

At the farthest corner was a boy, a man actually, huddled in fear, eyes
wide with terror, a blanket covering all but those red-rimmed eyes. "What
are you called, my brother?" Trying first the gutter tongue of my valley,
then the slightly-higher tome of the local trade lingo. I saw his eyes
widen; he understood.

"You are safe here, my brother. I am called Kucuk, my master's puppy." I
blushed hard; saying that aloud had implications that made me want to laugh
and die of embarrassment at once. He got a slight smile. What are you
called, my brother?"

He lowered the blanket just enough to clear his mouth, speaking with a
tremble of bowel-twisting fear but no louder that a whisper. "I am to be,
to be called Z-Zajak."

I smiled. "You are safe Zajak. My master, Harcos, has proven a kind and
gentle and honourable man. He chose me when his servant-son, Strasta, was
injured in the same attack that claimed your master's prior servant." At
the mention of the barrel-shaped warrior, Zajak's breath caught. "My Harcos
has never lied to me, and his servant told me he'd been treated as a true
son for the years he served. That same Harcos tells me that Pameten is a
kind, gentle and trustworthy friend, a friend who has defended my master's
life.

"You have no reason to trust me. You seem to have no reason to trust
Pameten. But tell me, my brother, do you have cause to doubt or fear him?
Has he hurt you?"

Zajak shook his head slowly. "Has he done anything... unworthy?" Zajak
looked down but shook his head again, this time more forcefully. "Zajak is
his name for you, but you had a name before. Will you tell it to me, my
brother?"

I could not catch the mumbled words and asked him to repeat it. "I am... I
was Okor." I giggled and he looked at me, again afraid. The word mean ox or
bullock, but also meant dimwit and (hence the giggle), in its rudest sense,
dumb and hung and perpetually-randy.

"So, um," I pointed to his crotch, "are you?" He laughed then, a spasmodic
hiccough of a laugh and said, "perhaps," before returning to his private
terrors. May I sit with you Okor-now-Zajak?"

He neither nodded nor objected, so I moved next to him. I lifted the
blanket and slid beside him. He tried to pull away but I had us both tucked
in together before he could. I could feel him shiver and quake. Such pain
and fear was the kind of problem that I knew God have given me the power to
help and heal.

I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and began to croon, soothing this
terrified man. I spoke in the trade lingo of peace and calm water and clear
streams and gentle breezes and mountain meadows. With an abruptness that
startled me, his much-larger frame was curled into my chest as he sobbed in
fear and grief. I kept my soothings steady, simple, images of the powerful
beauty of God's creation. As always, my voice drained the tension, fear and
grief from the young man's body and he drifted to a deep and healthy sleep.

Pameten's face appeared in the tent-fold and I motioned him to quiet. I
arranged the sleeping man's form, still curled into a protective ball,
under the blankets and moved out of the tent. Pam's face was a mask of
wonder and relief.

"How? What? How did you? Is he okay?"

I shushed him gently. In my broken speech, a mix of languages Harcos had
taught me so far, I related how terrified the boy was. Pameten's
countenance creased with concern and he kept nodding. He'd tried everything
to calm the boy and nothing worked. The family had practically thrown the
young man at him, treating the kid like refuse and greedily accepting the
few silver pieces Pam had used to start the negotiations. Without a
Strasta-like translator, it was in gestures, and transpired no less than
the morning before. Since then, the man-child had been beside himself and
Pam was at his wit's end.

I put the soothings back into my voice as we spoke and I watched some of
the fear and tension hidden beneath Pam's tough hide ease. He finally
gruffly patted me on the shoulder, practically driving me like a tent-peg
into the ground. I heard stirring in the tent and returned to find Zajak
sitting, staring into the middle distance. He jumped when I appeared, tense
and worried again.

"Okor, what do you fear?"

He looked at me and I moved calmly to his side, taking his great, wide
shoulders again into my arms, this time gazing into his face.

"Speak to me, brother. We will face and defeat your fears together."

"He will beat me, kill me when he knows the truth."

"What truth, my brother?"

The look of abject panic was back, even in the face of my soothings.

"Wh-what I am."

"What are you, my brother?"

"I am an abomination, a plague sent by the gods to punish my father."

I pulled the man close and rocked him. "Is your abomination, perhaps, like
mine?"

He yanked back with serious strength and saw his muscles pump. "Wh-What do
you mean? No- No one is like me."

I whispered, uncertain how I could be so instantly sure of the truth, "Do
you fear Pameten *because of* his power and might, or because *you crave*
his power and might?"

The man's eyes flew wide and he began to shake his head in a desperate
attempt to make what I said untrue, but his eyes spoke of it more
eloquently than words.

"The gods, they cursed your father because he took... unnatural pleasure
with you. When you were but a boy?"

The slow, inexorable negation of his shaking head was undone by the
reaction of the rest of his face. He was weeping silently now, but was
unable to look away from my eyes, as if they hypnotised him.

"You grew to manhood and found that you did not crave the... the affection
of a woman. It is why you are unmarried? Why your family threw you to
Pameten?"

Zajak folded forward into my lap, sobbing. But the grief was fading, these
were the tears of release, of a secret told, or poison drained away. I did
not use the soothings, for he did not need to be soothed. He needed to do
as I had done when Harcos stripped me of my name, Shame, and called me
something precious; and again when he taught me that what I believe to be
sin was nothing less than a gift from my own True God. When the sobbing
trailed away, I pulled him back into a hug.

"It will take time, Zajak, my brother Okor, but the world we left is
yesterday's leaves. Something to be trod upon or swept away. Listen, my
brother, and trust yourself. You are good, and caring, and kind, or you
could not feel the pain you hold inside. If you were wicked and sick, there
would be no pain, just the joy in the pain of others. There would be no
grief, just the satisfaction in the destruction of another. Have you felt
those things, my brother? No, I knew you had not.

"Now," Zajak jumped a bit as my voice came strong and sure again, "you must
sleep before we sup. Tonight, if Pameten tries to comfort you, you will let
me, my brother? Not push away or cringe in fear?"

He nodded, hesitant, afraid still, but willing to try. "Zajak, my brother
Okor, we can do more than our best. Pretend tonight that Pameten truly
cares for you, wants your happiness. Pretend, my brother, and perhaps it
will become truth. Now sleep for you have done little of that. I will get
you when the meal is ready."

I emerged again and saw Harcos and Pameten huddled in close talk. An
enormous slab of meat sizzled and popped on a spit above the coals. First
Harcos, then Pameten turned to me. Harcos beaconed me to him. He pulled me
into a rib-crushing hug, then held me at arm's length.

"My friend tells me that my Kucuk is magical, you have done healing to
broken man-child he has saved. Is this true, my puppy? Are you gift of the
gods that he describes?"

I paused, then smiled and leant to his ear and whispered, parroting words
he'd said earlier in the day, "I am no blessing, my Harcos. I come from no
gods. But I am honoured that you think me so... and I will work to become
one, to be worthy of you, my Aldas."

Harcos spun me and laid a mighty slap upon my ass. "There are lentils in
yon sack. Fix them in the water you have on boil." I watched him wipe sweat
dripping on his cheeks; odd, for the night had cooled quickly.

<eof>

Please let me know what you like and don't, where you wish the story to
go. Nothing is pre-planned in this story, so your suggestions can (and very
much have) changed its course.

*****

Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
Karl & Greg: 18 chapters .../incest/karl-and-greg/
Canvas Hell: 15 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 7 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 8 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Mud Lark Holler: 6 chapters .../rural/mud-lark-holler/
Babe in the Woods: 2 chapters .../rural/babe-in-the-woods/
Off the Magic Carpet: 2 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/