Date: Sat, 26 Aug 2017 13:31:46 -0400
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: An Immunity to Pain

                       AN IMMUNITY TO PAIN
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     Prince Feloran was among the war-griffins when the shouts began. He
had been checking over the mounts of the Sky Archers, a small, select group
of talented bowmen who could fire a bolt with deadly accuracy even while
riding on the back of the powerful leonine bodies of their eagle-headed
mounts and while avoiding the beating of those massive wings. He paid
special attention to the griffins' belly and leg armor, which though
lightweight was their primary armor, for it was rare for a foe of the
Underground Alliance to fire upon a war-griffin save from below. With the
armor in good repair, these worthy steeds were immune to any pain the enemy
could inflict.
     He'd just lifted one griffin's forepaw to check it for injury (for
he'd noticed the griffin was favoring that one paw and lifting it as if it
bothered him) when the calls started.
     "Stop that man, stop him!"
     "He's running toward the dragons!"
     "Guards! Guards! 'Ware the spy!"
     "Over here, over here!"
     Prince Feloran dropped the griffin's paw and went to see, but by the
time he'd gotten close, the man had been captured and was being taken to
his father's battle tent. His father might need his help, he thought with a
sigh, for his father, through no fault of his own, had grown up in a time
of peace and was thus ill-suited for the demands of battle. In return, the
King had long depended upon Feloran and his other three sons to guide him
in everything from drawing up battle plans to briefing generals to, well,
to interrogating spies.
     His father was indeed facing the spy, a typical Dark Elf, which was a
member of the Underground Alliance and frequently supplied the spies used
by the Alliance. This spy must have let his Cloak of Invisibility slip for
a brief period or made a noise or otherwise given away his location, to be
captured thus. The Dark Elves made frequent use of magic. The Dark Elves
resembled the Forest Elves but their complexion was both darker and more
malevolent, and they were taller and stronger than their slender, playful
forest cousins.
     General Harooma had the interrogation well in hand and well he should,
for it was well-known that the Alliance was readying a massive strike
against the kingdom, and the where and when of that was of prime
importance. Leaving the General to his rough questions, Prince Feloran went
over to his father and sat beside him where he could also observe the
proceedings and the prisoner. Sometimes you could tell something about
whether an answer was the truth or a lie by the way the prisoner moved in
his seat when saying it.
     The Dark Elf cast a look his way a time or two when he sat down and
Prince Feloran saw him working one hand toward a slit on his tunic, a
hidden pocket perhaps. "Look out, I think this one has poison!" he started
to say to the General, getting up and moving forward as he did so. No
sooner had he gotten the words out, though, with the General looking his
way (rather stupidly, in Prince Feloran's opinion) when the Dark Elf
suddenly shifted. The Dark Elf had been bound but the Elf must have cast an
unbinding spell somehow, for the ropes fell away and no sooner had this
happened than the Elf reached into that slit, pulled out a small bottle,
and as he was grabbed by the guards, cast the contents of the bottle upon
Prince Feloran and then the remainder upon himself as he was grabbed again.
     There was the unmistakable tingling of magical power coursing through
his body, this one covering him entirely from the source of the potion upon
his arm and hand and clothes. "What evil magic is this?" he gasped as the
tingling grew even stronger! "What have you wrought?"
     "Speak, Demon of the Depths!" the King stormed. "Or I shall call in
the hot irons to burn you!"
     "I no longer care about that!" the Dark Elf declared and laughed far
too heartily.
     The General, angered, slapped the Dark Elf with the back of his hand,
hard.
     The Dark Elf took it without even changing countenance, but Prince
Feloran, ah, the Prince!
     He was rocked back by the force of a blow to his own cheek. It was
enough to nearly knock him over, he staggered and was caught by his own
father.
     "What magic is this?" the King asked.
     "What happens to me, if it causes harm, happens to the Prince, that is
the charm!" the Dark Elf declared with a great deal of satisfaction.
     Prince Feloran understood when the others present did not. To test it,
he took his knife from his belt and touched the tip to his fingertip and
pricked himself on his left hand. In mid-laugh, the Dark Elf flinched and
grasped his own left hand.
     "The potion has bound us together!" the Prince gasped.
     "What? What?"
     "His evil mixture has made it so that any pain he should feel is felt
by me instead!" the Prince went on. "Watch as I prick myself again." the
Prince jabbed his own index finger this time, harder.
     The Dark Elf gasped. The Elven race truly had little capacity for
bearing pain. It illustrated the Prince's point perfectly.
     "We can't beat or torment this black scoundrel at all!" the General
mourned. "If we do, it will injure His Highness!"
     "My son, my son!" the King was barely beginning to understand all
this.
     "The potion confers an immunity to pain by inflicting it upon another
as you have seen. There is an antidote to this...back in my own realm." the
Dark Elf went on. "If you release me now, I swear by Ardinarthe that I
shall apply the antidote and end the bond again." And the Dark Elf sat back
down, the master of his own fate in his own eyes.
     "What shall we do, what shall we do?" the King whimpered. "I cannot
let my son be injured, my Feloran, my beloved little dumpling...."
     Prince Feloran hated this language from his father, for it treated him
as if he were five instead of twenty-five years of age and he cut it off,
"Never fear, my father. I know what to do." To the General, he said, "Take
this Dark Elf and secure him safely somewhere. Confine him but do not
otherwise injure him. In the morning, we shall resume our questioning of
this impertinent fellow."
     "Of course, of course." the General muttered.
     "And don't forget to feed me as well as you are able." the Dark Elf
gleefully reminded him. "If I am nauseated by anything, it is not I who
will feel it."
     The Prince confirmed this with a curt nod and left before the Dark Elf
could think of anything else to add to increase his own discomfiture. He
had not lied, he knew what he had to do. It was obvious as it could be. He
was surprised the Dark Elf himself had not considered the corollary of his
spell upon the Prince.
     Where best to begin? He considered it, then smiled. He needed large,
strong men, quite a number of them by preference, and where better to find
them than among his Father's own foot soldiers? Not the common soldiers, of
course, for they were lightly armed and armored. But his grandfather had
created a special group, the Heavy Coursers, well-armored men who rode on
the largest horses also armored, so that they were as invincible alone as a
phalanx of men with interlocking shields, and could wade into the thick of
battle and lay about with great slaughter wherever needed. Not the ordinary
Man who could join such a group, only the largest and strongest men could
bear up under the weight of armor and then wield a sword as well in
combat. Their numbers were thus limited, but he could count upon the local
group of some forty men to suffice for his purposes.
     The Heavy Coursers had their tents a short distance away from those of
the main body, for with their special rank and training went a sort of
snobbish arrogance. He as the Prince of course was not submitted to such,
but it also gave him a certain degree of seclusion for what he must do. He
arrived just after sundown, when the fires were the greatest light around,
though the rest of the world still showed in dark grays.
     Four men about the fire at present, they would do for now. "Your
Highness!" one of them called out at his approach and all four (who had
been squatting), rose to full height.
     "I come on an urgent errand." Prince Feloran told them. "Let us go to
your tent and I shall instruct you."
     "We hear and obey." the men said in a ragged chorus and Prince Feloran
led them into the tent nearby. Whether it was theirs or anothers did not
matter, after all.
     "What may we do for you, Your Highness?" one asked when they were all
inside.
     Prince Feloran reached up and unclasped his cloak, let it fall about
his ankles. Now he was clad only in a tunic and leggings, the same as any
soldier of the field. "My command to you is simple, and I shall not explain
it and I expect to be obeyed."
     "Of course, Your Highness." a second of the men said when the first
one was dumb. "Tell us and we shall obey."
     "I want the four of you, and the rest of your corps, to fuck me as
hard and rough as you can." Prince Feloran said, undoing the ties at his
neck. This let him pull the tunic top outwards enough to pull the entire
thing over his head. He dropped it at his feet and now only his legs and
feet were covered with clothing, leggings and shoes. "Don't hold back at
all, I need it rough. Now get yourselves to it." he said. "I'll be ready
for you in just another moment."
     He got off his clothes and his shoes and, now fully, nude, stretched
himself out on the bed in this tent. A single bed of a size made for more
than one, the Prince saw with some satisfaction. These four were a group of
good friends at least, three of them would share the bed while the fourth
would stand guard, sharing out the duty as the night wore on. This did not
necessarily mean they were lovers, but would at least not be body-conscious
among each other and may well have shared prostitutes in the past.
     He looked at the four men, all of them were still fully clothed,
unmoving. "Well?" He demanded. "Did you not hear me?"
     "Your Highness, we.... We do not...."
     "I have given you an order and I expect you to do it. And now! Move!"
     Numbly, the men began to disrobe.
     "And one of you, go and get your comrades. I shall need the services
of all of you before this night is done! Go and fetch them, you!" he
indicated the smallest and youngest of them, who seemed more innocent than
the others. Innocence had no place in this errand of his.
     The three left were now nude before him, and the Prince regarded their
male equipment with satisfaction. All three of them were well endowed, but
one of them was erect as well. "You!" he said, pointing at the man. "You're
readier than the others. Get over him and ram that thing up my ass. And
don't be gentle about it! I want you to make it hurt!"
     "I have some oil I can use...."
     "No, no oil! No gentleness, I said. "Come, get it in me, now, now!"
     The man stumbled toward the bedding, and the Prince observed that his
erection had not subsided in all of this. "I hear and obey." he mumbled.
     "Come on, you want to do it, you want to fuck me!" the Prince egged
him on. "I'm telling you to do it, so come on, now, now!" The man was
between his legs now. "Come on, I want to watch your face as you ram it in
me! Come on, now, that's it, come on, there it is, now shove it in and, ah,
AHH, AHH-HUHHHH!"
     He had cried out in surprise rather than pain, for the Heavy Courser
had done as he had been bade, and his hard rod was now shoved into the
Prince's ass. It was the most peculiar of feelings! He could feel that his
anus had torn and was bleeding, but he felt none of this. All he felt was
that his bowels were now filled with a long, warm male shaft, and the
feeling was undeniably...pleasant!
     "I have obeyed you, Your Highness." the man gasped.
     "I can feel it. Goddess, but it is a big, fat one, isn't it? I can
feel it inside me, raging like an angry ogre! Now, get to moving it, don't
hold back, you can ram it hard, can't you?"
     "I can, Your Highness, but...."
     "Again with the 'but!'" the Prince raged. "I said to do it, now do it,
now!"
     The man gritted his teeth and he began to ravish his liege lord's
son. Pulling that hard dong out, he thrust it back in, in a convulsive
move, and the Prince moaned again. Oh, God, that dong in his butt was doing
something to him! It felt good, no doubt about it! "Again, again!" he
grunted. "And faster, faster! Hard, hard!"
     The man needed no further coaxing now, he began to move up and down on
the Prince's body, and as he did, the pleasure felt by Prince Feloran grew
and grew! "Oh, oh, oh, that's it, that's right, that's it, that's good,
good!" He panted as the man's motions created a rhythm. He looked over at
the other two. "Get over here, I'll get you ready to go when he's done!" he
grunted.
     The men complied, kneeling at the Prince on either side, near his head
and the Prince reached and took the prick of the man on his left into his
mouth and suckled on it. It had still been flaccid, but upon the laying on
of the princely lips, the man groaned and his manhood swelled and grew in
girth and tumescence.
     The Prince, his eyes glazing at the raw lust surging through his loins
from the thrusts at his ass, withdrew his lips and regarded his
accomplishments. "That's better, now you're ready to fuck my royal ass." he
panted. And to the man on his right, he said, "Now it's your turn."
     But the man was already swelling before he ever took it into his
mouth. He suckled on it just the same, and the man grunted and thrust at
the Prince's mouth.
     "Your Highness, I, I...." the man said, catching himself in his lust
and pulling himself away from the regal maw.
     "No, no, that's good. I want all of you to use me the roughest way you
can, you understand me? It has to be rough. It has to be painful." He tried
not to emphasize that last too much, these men would obey best if they
didn't understand the reason.
     The eyes of the man he had sucked lit up with a strange glow. "As you
wish, Your Highness." he said and he grabbed the Prince's head and crammed
his cock back inside. He then began to fuck the Prince's mouth the same way
that his comrade was fucking his ass. The frenzy of the man fucking him was
of a speed and urgency that said he was close to his climax now.
     The third man was standing, his hand keeping his cock alive, and
moaning. All three of these men were now totally into their prince's
demands.
     Other Guards came in the tent, led by the fourth man. The third man
saw them and said, "Come in, come in. Our Royal Highness is in need of some
hard cocks and wants the Heavy Coursers to give it to him!"
     The man fucking the Prince came with a roar, and the Prince felt the
hot rush of come in his ass. And none of that, none at all, came with any
pain at all. Only pleasure. Only good feelings were still his, the bad ones
were all siphoned off by the Black Elf's magick!
     The man fucking his face came as the man fucking the Prince pulled
out. He grunted as he shot his wads, and the Prince, held on by brute
force, swallowed a huge load of salty man-seed. Damn the Dark Demons, but
that tasted good!
     The third man was getting between the Prince's legs as the second man
released his killer grip on the Prince's head. The Prince looked around, a
dab of spunk dribbling from the edge of his lips and he said, "Come on, all
of you, I want all of you to fuck me, and hard!"
     But the third man was showing them what he meant, without further need
for conversation. The other Heavy Coursers didn't hesitate for long, but
began to ready themselves for their turn.
     Soon the Prince had another hard cock in his mouth and one in each
hand, and he was pleasuring them as best he could. Some of the men, driven
by their lust into premature action, exploded and sprayed over the Prince's
stomach, across his chest, upon his feet, upon the crown of his head. To
such men, he said, "Don't worry about it, get to the end of the line, and
you can do it again, and maybe you'll last longer!"
     The orgy lasted the entire night, and the Prince's body, while still
not aching him in any wise, showed the bruises he had endured from strong
hands gripping his hands, his ankles, his ass must have been pounded into
raw hamburger, though he felt that the spunk of the first few greased the
way for the further invaders. It wasn't until the first dregs of sunlight
painted the sky from black to dull gray that the Prince got to his feet,
wearily pulled his clothes on, and, stepping over a couple of large nude
male bodies sleeping about, staggered back into the light.
     A guard was standing watch outside, a big bruiser that the Prince
remembered had been especially vigorous in his butt-pounding the earlier
part of the night. "How are you this morning?" he asked the man.
     "I am well enough, Your Highness." The man said. "And how are you?"
     "I feel fine, though tired." he said truthfully.
     The man looked at him carefully. "Did we please you, Your Highness?"
     "You pleased me well." the Prince said. "But now I have one final task
for you to assist me with before we are done."
     He explained and the man, once he understood, laughed loudly. "So that
was why you asked us to hammer your ass!" he guffawed. "We thought for
certain you had become quite mad."
     "Madness with a method." the Prince agreed. "Now come with me and we
will visit the Dark Elf spy, who will be very interested to talk to me now,
I think."
     "I know just how to help you." the man said and scooped up the bucket
of what he needed as they went.
     The General was there, and from the looks of him, had not slept at all
that night either. "Your Highness!" he said. "We have kept this spy safe as
you asked. But he has been moaning so much we feared you were in danger."
     "A danger of my own making. Let us go in and speak with him."
     The box was large enough to let them all step inside, where the Dark
Elf was looking haggard and desperate. "You!" he screamed when he saw the
Prince. "What have you been doing all night?"
     "Convincing you to talk." the Prince smiled wearily. "Are you ready?"
     "I shall never talk." the Dark Elf began defiantly. "You may do as you
will, but I...."
     "I am sorry to hear that." the Prince said. "My friend is ready to let
you watch our games if you'd like."
     The Guard with the Prince had rolled up his right shirt sleeve. He now
stuck his fist into the bucket of cooking grease and brought it out covered
with the lard. The Prince smiled and started to bend over.
     "Not that, not that!" the Dark Elf shrieked. "By the Goddess you
worship, have mercy, mercy!"
     "So answer the General's questions, and my friend and I shall hold off
on our merry-making." the Prince said. And to the General, he said,
"Remember that no matter what, this Elf must not be allowed to injure
himself in any way."
     And in broken tones, the Dark Elf began to speak. Once he was certain
the spy intended to keep talking, the Prince left the General to question
the Dark Elf to his satisfaction and went to seek out some much-needed
sleep.
     The Guard came with him. "So you are finished with the spy?" He asked.
     "I think so."
     "Too bad." the Guard said. "I was hoping you could use some
company. I've been standing Guard the entire second half of the night."
     The Prince looked over at the huge, handsome Heavy Courser. A small
smile grew on his lips. "Well, it can't hurt the General's questions any if
we remind the spy what'll happen if he stops talking, now, can it?"
     "It couldn't, indeed." the Heavy Courser sighed.
     "My tent is this way." And the Prince led him off to his
quarters. After all, they couldn't let this spy return to the Dark Elves'
kingdom and report on what he'd learned (and incidentally obtain the
antidote while he was there.) While this immunity to all pain endured,
giving him the gift of pleasure without pain, he might as well enjoy it to
the limit.

                             THE END
               Comments, complaints or suggestions?
             E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM