Date: Wed, 20 May 2009 19:24:46 -0400
From: M Patroclus <thephallocrat@gmail.com>
Subject: The Exile, Chapter 8

***Discalimer: The following work contains intense descriptions of sex
between two men - or, more precisely, between one real man and one
mysterious being who has taken the shape of a man. If this offends you,
don't read it. If this excites you, you're in luck. It is also unabashedly
nerdy, prone to being wordy, and will try to peak your curiousity without
giving you the satisfaction of providing many answers. It's a fantasy, and
its an experiment. You've been warned.***

THE EXILE
A Gay Fantasy Experiment

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chapter Eight

How weary I am of the whole thing.

Everyone looks to me for answers, as though I could solve all their
problems with the simple wave of a hand. I am not a god, nor anything more
than a man. I hunger, as other men, and need food. I grow lonely and need
love. I get tired and must sleep. And yet these simple luxuries are not
often afforded to me. For, if I am to be honest with myself, I am now more
than a simple man. I am a figurehead and a symbol of political power. It is
not a pleasant fate for someone such as me, who has grown to prefer hours
of quiet solitude and meditation.

The restoration of order in Carmathen was like putting out a million
wildfires at once. Where one is contained, ten more pop up in its
place. Even after I ordered the populace fed, announced changes in the
political hierarchy, and promised aid in reconstructing the old and
crumbling sections of the city (all which grievances were supposedly the
cause of the uprising) the unrest continued unabated, having become a
creature of its own, devoid of logic or purpose other than utter
destruction. Then, too, there were powers at work in the city that did not
want the violence to stop - corrupt forces that feed upon chaos as much as
Damon fed on me. It was these criminal elements who were truly behind the
unrest, I believe, and I have tried to counter their influence as best I
can. At last an uneasy calm was established, but the effort has taken much
longer than I could have feared, and has been draining on me and my forces.

 Further, while my promises of social change have gradually soothed the
populace, they have also shocked and upset the Council, turning them
against me. The fools apparently desired me to bring their city back into
order without changing a single one of the misguided and tyrannical
policies that have created the unrest in the first place. Just as the lower
classes of the city began to be contained, I faced open rebellion by the
nobility and political leadership, and thus one struggle has followed hard
upon another. And so it has been for several weeks now.

I would prefer not to fight violence with violence, and yet so often it has
been the only option afforded me. As the long days of struggle ground on, I
fought to control my anger, to silence that sinister internal voice that
suggested a display of military ruthlessness would quickly bring an end to
the chaos and effectively end the squabbling between the classes. If it
were that difficult for me to restrain myself, I can only imagine how
strong the temptation must have been for my officers and soldiers, who had
to endure the insolence and cruelty of the peasant mob and the
condescension and contempt of the upper classes firsthand every single
day. There were several shameful incidents of violence, innocents (if any
may be truly called innocent in times such as these - this is the very
problem) killed and wounded. I have done my best to punish those involved,
but still it is a blot upon my conscience, no matter what I may do.

In the end, to stave off corruption and extensive bloodshed and in a move
to finally appease the mobs I was forced to disband the Council altogether
and track down its members to be sent to trial by the people. Several
escaped the city, but those that were caught were quickly and easily found
guilty of crimes of humanity and sentenced to death in trials whose
fairness and impartiality was dubious at best. I could not spare any
sympathy for the accused, however, who had brought themselves to this
crisis through their own selfishness. I appeased my guilt by thinking of
the greater good, and pondered whether I had become too much like Valen
already.

At my insistence, a special election was held in which the people could
elect a new form of government. This plan backfired miserably. They have
chosen me as their supreme ruler. I suppose it was inevitable - I have done
more to aid their suffering in a month than any politician had done in the
last ten years. Though technically the city has been under my authority
through the allegiance of the Council, I now rule it directly and with no
major political challenges to my edicts and commands. Such absolute power
terrifies and thrills me. It is yet another temptation with which the
Creator seeks to test me, perhaps.

I have never had desire to be a leader of men. I see I have written this
before in this account, and perhaps I have repeated it so often that it may
be easy for the reader to doubt my sincerity. But in this case it is
absolutely true. I did not come to Carmathen with any desire to make it my
own, for I hate this city, and I always have.
__________________________________________________________________________________


Given the urgency of Cedrik's condition, we had no choice but to follow the
main roads towards the city though we were fearful of more attacks from the
amazarii. In this the giant's presence was calming. Surely any potential
foe would think twice upon seeing his enormous bulk with us.  As we moved
through the countryside ever northward, I could not help but imagine how
unsettling our strange little group appeared in the eyes of the few
travelers we passed along the way. Leading us was Golmeir, his gigantic
legs taking enormous strides, looking as fearsome and misshapen as he had
the day he helped his former masters capture me. Slung over his shoulder,
but carried with surprising delicacy, was Cedrik. I had done everything I
could do for him, but still he floated between consciousness and slumber,
between life and death. Next, there was me, my smooth head and face making
me look, as I often forgot, strange and exotic. Finally there was Alek,
whose relative normalness of appearance only served to make the entire
party look the more bizarre.

The pace we set was grueling. Alek said he hoped that we could find aid for
his brother in the nearest, outlying regions of the city, but it would take
us most of the day to reach it. We traveled now through rolling hills
unsuitable for farms and therefore devoid of serious human habitation,
determined to reach the outskirts of the city by nightfall.

"How is he?" Alek asked me, for the hundredth time that day.

I thought of his agony and tried to be patient. "About the same," I
replied, speaking in comforting, calming tones, "He's hanging on - he has a
strong spirit." It was the same reply, more or less, that I had given each
time he had asked the question throughout the day, and he looked just as
unconvinced by my assurances as he had every other time.

In truth, Cedrik would have died hours earlier, before the sun had risen,
if not for Damon. We had been walking in the darkness for some time when it
became clear to me that Alek`s brother was fading rapidly. Not sure of what
else to do, and growing sick to my stomach at the look of panic on Alek's
face, I made some excuse to my companions and walked until I was just out
of sight. I called for my servant. He appeared instantly, sitting casually
on a moss-covered rock nearby.

"Can you help him?" I asked pointedly.

Damon shrugged. "Not really. He has lost a lot of blood already."

I think I muttered some obscenity then, rubbing my hands anxiously. I was
losing hope quickly

"If it were you, that would be different," Damon said, eager to ingratiate
himself as always, "Our bond would allow me to cure many of your most
serious wounds. But to enter another's reality deep enough to alter their
very flesh? I don't think so."

"There must be something you can do," I pleaded.

He looked at me, puzzled. "Why is it so important? He is nothing to you."

"He is an ally, or could be," I said, "And he is Alek's brother."

Damon groaned and rolled his eyes. "Alek, Alek, Alek. That's all you talk
about anymore. Its getting so boring! He is simply a pretty face,
Master. Do you not have enough beauty in me?"

I looked at him, considering. He was perfect, and the very sight of him
made my loins pulse with desire despite the fact that his belligerence
irritated me and my legs still felt weak from the excitement of the
battle. And yet behind that lust and desire, there was nothing. Damon was a
pet, a tool, and not a person. This I constantly had to remind myself.

"He's not just a pretty--" I stopped, angered. "It is more complicated than
that."

"All I'm saying," said Damon, edging closer to me, "is that anything you
need, I can provide. We don't need him."

As he spoke, his physical shape slowly melted and reconfigured until it was
the very image of Alek standing before me. The illusion was perfect: every
feature, every strand of hair, every bump of the skin seemed accurate to a
detail. Alek's eyes looked at me longingly, and Alek's hands reached for
mine. His lips leaned in close to kiss me.

"Stop this!" I said, pulling away from the magical, enticing fantasy. I
squeezed my eyes shut and tried to clear my head. "I command it."

"As you wish," Damon said, returning to his usual shape, "I merely wish to
please you."

"I need you to help Cedrik," I tried again, "That is what would please me."

He let out a sound of frustration. "Cedrik is a distraction," he said,
"Alek is a distraction. This is all a useless distraction from your true
purpose!"

"And what is that?"

"Power and glory, Master," he replied, his eyes twinkling, "Obtaining the
power and glory you are destined to have by virtue of your lineage!"

"We've talked about this before, Damon," I said, crossing my arms, "I'll
not explain myself again. I am not Alander. Now, can you help him or not?"

My servant sighed and ran a hand through his beautiful hair. "A little,
perhaps, if it means that much to you. I can give him some strength and
slow the poison`s flow. But it will not be easy, and it will not help him
last more than a day or two at most. To do this, I will require much energy
from you, greater than you have bestowed upon me before. Are you prepared?"

There was no time to consider consequences. I nodded in agreement and Damon
licked his lips with relish. In an instant his clothes had vanished, and he
turned away from me and bent over until his arms were resting on the rock,
presenting his buttocks to me. It had been some time since we had coupled
in this manner, but I recalled the procedure quite easily. My trousers
dropped to my ankles in a flash.

"The others are waiting," I said as I slid myself gently inside of him, "We
must hurry."

Damon turned and looked back at me, grinning. "Just relax and enjoy
yourself, Master, and let me take care of that."

I remember that even as I began my thrusts I was doubtful whether I could
find any pleasure out of this union, given the number of distractions
racing through my mind. Cedrik's life was spilling out of him like water
from a cracked cup. Alek, in his panic for his brother and fear of the
giant, might come looking for me at any moment. Amazarii might be waiting
in the darkness ready at any moment to attack us again. War was brewing in
Fermanagh, and a mission of diplomacy had been entrusted to me in behalf of
the very man who, whether for good or ill (I had not decided for myself
which), had betrayed my trust. Under such pressures, I did not think myself
capable of performing adequately for Damon.

And perhaps, if my partner were human, I would not have been able to do
so. But Damon's beauty and skills at giving pleasure were other-worldly and
hypnotic. As I continued my motions, I once again felt the tension of my
anxieties melting away only to be replaced with the single minded desire to
find physical release inside my servant. Damon, his own genitals bouncing
to and fro under the onslaught of my movements, began to moan wildly in
expression of the pleasure I myself was experiencing. It had never felt
like this before. With each entrance into him, I felt surrounded by pure
fire and gold that sent waves of power through my body, making me dizzy and
incoherent with intense pleasure.

Suddenly, Damon's voice echoed in my head, telling me how great of a man I
was, how strong and capable, how masculine and commanding. He spoke of the
trials I had endured, and how much I deserved this sweet release. He begged
for my bounty, coaxed it out of me.

For a time I slowed my thrusts and moved in and out of him slowly, enjoying
the long, blissful agony of skin rubbing against skin. Damon's opening was
a living creature feeding eagerly upon me, its prey. Indeed, this metaphor,
at once arousing and disturbing, was not far from the truth. At length I
could no longer endure the reduced speed, and began to pick up my pace
again, slamming into him again and again with increasing urgency.

I knew with the finality that every man understands that I would not be
able to last much longer at this pace. It is here that my tale grows more
unbelievable still. I swear by all that I hold sacred that what I am about
to relate is nothing but the truth. Damon's skin began to glow softly with
an eerie light, and I could hear him laughing wildly. Looking down at our
coupling, I could see light pouring out of him, a sight both entrancing and
terrifying, illuminating my organs and my stomach. The sensations which I
had previously thought so pleasurable suddenly doubled in intensity, and I
felt my legs begin to buckle.

I began to release inside of him with great force, yet still my pleasure
had not peaked. It continued, building higher and higher until my eyes went
blurry and my mouth hung open like an insane man. Damon drew out every drop
from me, and just when I felt the climax finally subsiding, he tightened
around me and I felt a new one begin.

In every release, in every climax, there comes a moment when time seems to
slow down, so that while the actual ejaculation of the reproductive liquid
technically lasts for less time than it takes a man to count to ten (on
average), it seems much longer. Indeed, there have been times when I have
felt eternity in those short moments, and believed I had tasted the
infinite. On this occasion, however, the effect was greatly increased. By
the time our coupling had ended, I felt as though I had been at the heights
of pleasure for days. I could scarcely remember who I was before I had
begun to pour myself out inside of Damon.

How long this continued I cannot say. Eventually I lost consciousness, and
awoke mere seconds later on my back, looking up at the night sky, whose
vastness at once produced a thrill of terror so intense that I had to shut
my eyes. As the anxiety faded again into satiated peace, I became aware of
feeling exhausted and consumed. My entire body ached, and I felt a soreness
in my genitals that was to last for more than a day. Damon, on the other
hand, glowed so brightly with energy that I could scarcely recognize
him. He leaned down and stroked my shaft gently and appreciatively. It had
grown so sensitive in the aftermath of my release, however, that I flinched
and covered myself with my hands. He laughed again.

"Can you..." I began, but found I had no breath.

Damon kissed my forehead. "Yes, I believe I can help him now."

I took a few gulps of air. "It was never like that before."

He smiled, "You must expect me to keep a few surprises in reserve. Besides,
I could hardly expect you to give that much each time you fed me."

I nodded in agreement, feeling my heart begin to slow to a regular
speed. "I feel... different," I said. "Tired."

He helped me up gently. "I will be your strength, Master," he said,
beaming, "We are bound now closer than ever."

I did not know what he meant, but did not have the courage or energy to
ask. I had the task now of composing myself as best as I was able so that I
could walk back to Alek without feeling foolish. I felt, as we often do
after such private pleasures, that the acts I had committed in secret and
that weighed so heavily in my mind must surely be visible in public to
others, written on my face plainly for all to see. Surely Alek would take
one look at me and know that something had happened. But it was not so, for
his attention was on his brother and on trying to ignore the presence of
the giant. Our secret acts, whatever we think, will remain a secret until
perhaps the last days, when by the Creator`s grace and in his wisdom we
shall shout them from the rooftops. I have done so already, in a fashion,
by recounting these secret details here on paper. What a torturous relief
it has been to unburden my most private memories here to you, mysterious
reader.

 I never saw or understood what Damon did, or by what means his power
operated, but by the time I got back to the others, Cedrik was already
looking stronger. Though my eyes were heavy and I wanted nothing more than
to sleep, I felt a tiny surge of hope as I told Alek and Golmeir that it
was time to get moving.
____________________________________________________________________________________

When day broke, it found us traveling ever northwards in haste. I still did
not feel myself fully recovered from my exertions with Damon, and needed to
pause to rest more often than I would have liked. Sometime in mid-afternoon
we stopped for a brief respite near a small brook where I drunk deeply and
gratefully from its cool waters. The liquid was refreshing and
invigorating, but still I felt stiff and weak. Alek filled one of our skins
near me, looking very much like he wanted to speak but unsure of where to
begin.

"Yes?" I said at last, "Go ahead, ask me."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid to know the answer."

"You want to know about Golmeir," I said, taking another long drink.

"I knew you were hiding something," he said, "Many things actually. You
behave so mysteriously sometimes. Where did you go last night?"

It was yet another opportunity to explain to him about Damon, and yet I
could not. I did not feel myself capable of describing to him what my
servant and I had done together. I worried that Alek would feel jealous,
and worried too that he would not and that I simply hoped he would. I did
not know which would be worse, and had no desire to find out.

"I will explain some day," I said, taking another drink, "Not now,
please. I am tired."

He looked at Golmeir and then back at me. "I suspected from things you have
said that you had a helper, a servant of some kind who supplied you with
aid and knowledge. I did not expect one of those creatures from the
mountains."

I ran my hand across my smooth scalp. "He is not my servant, not really -
not the one you are thinking of anyway. The giant's aid is as much a
surprise to me as to you.  He's been following me for some time now, and I
had no idea why. It was only when I came to rescue you from the amazarii
that I remembered this." I held out the amulet that hung about my neck from
him to see it.

"What is that?"

"A gift," I said, "from a man who once commanded Golmeir's loyalty. I
wondered, at the time, why such a creature would take orders from one he
could have easily overpowered. It occurred to me only last night that the
amulet was the key. The Seeress spoke of it, do you remember? She implied
it was more than a simple piece of jewelry."

Alek looked thoughtful. "So the amulet is his master."

"It is my prison," rumbled the impossibly deep voice of the giant behind
us. I had not thought he had been listening, but then it was always easy to
assume that such an inhuman looking creature would not behave in a human
manner.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Captured I am, and many of my people," he continued, his face an
unreadable craggy mask, "We must obey the holders of the stones."

I was horrified that I now possessed a captive slave. I held the red stone
out to him, and said, "I have no wish for you to be a slave. Here, take
it. I will release you."

Alek looked panicked and shook his head violently. "We need him!"

"I believe he will help us when he is free," I said, giving him a
significant glare, "Or if not, it is his right to choose so. It is wrong
for any creature to be enslaved against his will, as you should know better
than anyone, Alek."

This had the desired effect. I saw this thought strike my friend deeply,
and he flinched and bit his lip. Slowly he nodded in agreement.

"Golmeir, I release you from your slavery," I said again.

The giant let out a low rumble of a moan that shook the earth and flailed
its arms. "I long to be free, but I cannot! Not until the amulet is
destroyed!"

I looked carefully at the stone. It seemed ordinary enough. "That shouldn't
be difficult."

"It is powerful witchcraft," the giant protested, "It will not be easy to
destroy it, I think."

"Well," I said, replacing the chain about my neck, "We will do our best. I
promise to free you as soon as we can learn how."

There was long silence as the giant considered me doubtfully. "You would
have my gratitude," it said at last.

"Um, Golmeir?" asked Alek, addressing the creature directly for the first
time, "Who did this to you? Who enslaved you and your people?"

The giant's face remained blank, but there was a rage flashing in his eyes
that almost made me tremble with fear. "Soldiers of the north, the mystics
of Broxbourne!" He said nothing further.

Alek and I exchanged glances. "I'm beginning to notice a theme to all
this," I murmured wryly.

"We can't worry about it now," he responded, looking at his brother's
unconscious form, "We need to get to Carmathen quickly."

I agreed, and we set off again. You must understand that by this time,
given all that had happened, I thought that Broxbourne, with its plotting
Archbishop and its mighty zealous armies, posed the greatest threat both to
me personally and to our lands generally. This must seem ridiculous to
anyone reading this account who is familiar with recent history, but at the
time it was so. They would have to be dealt with, I believed, but I did not
think that there was much that I could do alone. As we walked, I made vague
plans of informing the Council of Carmathen of all I had discovered. With
luck, they would bring aid to Valen and prove an able oppostion to the
Broxbourneans. I placed all my hopes on them, like a fool. You need no
powers of prescience, dear reader, to guess that these hopes were
ill-founded.
_______________________________________________________________________________

When you enter the city of Fermanagh, as I have attempted to describe
previously in this account, you pass through a mighty gate in an impressive
wall. For one who has never seen the enormous bulwarks of the fortress of
Broxbourne, as I on my first visit to Fermanagh as yet had not, the walls
are impressive indeed. While there are some structures and buildings
outside of the city proper, it is clear to anyone with eyes where the city
begins and where it ends. Fermanagh, for all its woes and madness, cannot
be accused of having undefined borders.

Not so with Carmathen. When we first crested a hill and laid eyes on the
extreme edges of the city, I thought we had merely reached some outlying
village. We stopped to catch our breath by a large tree and surveyed the
few buildings that were visible. The houses were smaller and more spread
out than I would have expected from one of our land's largest cities. And
yet this village did not end, but continued beyond the next hill and the
next, its buildings growing larger and more elaborate until I realized we
had at some point entered the great city itself. Carmathen, as I was soon
to learn, is always growing and expanding. In search of fresh water and
more space, the poorer classes (which indeed makes up most of population)
continually relocates to the city's edges, forever redefining its borders.
Indeed, any map of that sprawling metropolis is soon obsolete, for
buildings are added to, streets rerouted, and whole quarters destroyed and
rebuilt on a regular basis. Even more than in Fermanagh I saw how a city
was a living thing made up of stone and mortar and wood and people, a
restless creature with an insatiable hunger.

I cannot accurately describe the sensation of walking into this city for
the first time. I have attempted several times to do so, but words fail
me. At length I decided earlier today to return to the place where Alek,
Golmeir, and I first laid eyes on Carmathen and walk again the route we
took that day. My face is well known now in the city, and so I was forced
to take an escort of several guards as a precaution. Indeed, my lieutenants
and ministers would have been horrified had I attempted to walk about the
city unguarded as would have been my preference. I found, predictably, that
the lay of the city had much changed since then, and was unable to locate
the tree by which we had rested, or the hill from which we had looked down
and seen the remotest buildings of Carmathen. Perhaps these landmarks are
no longer there, or more likely have been changed beyond recognition.

And yet, the spot itself matters little, for any way you enter the city,
the sight is much the same. While the buildings of Fermanagh were similar
in appearance and in structure, Carmathen was a haphazard mix of stone and
wood, of elaborate multi-level buildings next to rickety old shanties. The
stench was horrific; men urinated in the streets and housewives emptied
buckets of human filth from windows without care to avoid those who walked
below. It was the same on my walk today as it was then, and just like today
I was on my first entrance horrified at the blatant signs of inequality and
unfairness in the class structure of the city. Everywhere there were the
poor and destitute, with no access to food or shelter, living like animals
in the street. These wretches begged those that passed for money, food, or
clothing, and were ignored. I saw packs of children wearing rags with
scrawny arms and dirty faces. I could count every one of their ribs with
ease.

I was horrified to see today how little had changed, even after all my
efforts. It will take time to aid these people's plight, and for many it
will be too late. I have ordered the distribution of food from northern
fields, begun construction on an aqueduct system to bring clean, fresh
water to the inner quarters, and instituted public classes on hygiene and
nutrition and the prevention of disease. But there are so many people in
Carmathen, and so many of them blind fools who fear change more than death
and decay. For such there is little I can do. It is maddening.

Two things were obvious to me that day I first entered the city. The first
was that the Council was clearly unfit to rule. The second was that it was
only a matter of time before the poor people of the city realized it and
took action. They outnumbered the rich in the city ten to one, and there
would come a day when they would open their eyes to this fact and change
would finally come. I could feel the unrest bubbling beneath the surface,
and could read unspoken outrage on every hungry face. They endured their
tribulations for longer than I could have imagined, but in the end I was
right. Change came to Carmathen eventually. I could not have guessed then
that this change would be me.
__________________________________________________________________________

There is much left to tell of my adventures in Carmathen: of the fate of
Cedrik, of my meeting with the Ambassador and my appearance before the
Council. I must write of Jelena, who I would sometimes like to forget, and
of Stepan and his son Pasha, who I will always remember. And I must tell
you also about the Tharonites and the Veruvians, about whom much as been
rumored. There is so much to tell that I wish my pen could write as fast as
my mind can think, that you might know all there is know instantly. But
true communication, by the design of the Creative Power, takes work and
great effort. Perhaps it is only this effort that makes the telling of
tales worthwhile and fascinating at all.

I would write more now if I could, but I have a government to organize and
a city to save from the brink of anarchy. I must organize a new city guard
so that my troops may return to their homes and families in their own
native land. And I myself must return to Broxbourne, where much is left to
be done. How weary I am of the whole thing -- but I can never rest, and my
work is never done.

***Thanks for reading. As always, your comments, suggestions, questions,
feedback, and encouragement are welcome. Please feel free to e-mail me at
thephallocrat@gmail.com. Enjoy!***