Brynnan: An Evil in Siginak

The Questioning

“Your cock is very handsome,” Kuruntu said. “When I suck it, you will feel it like few have before.”

“That’s a tall claim, but I’m willing to let you try,” replied the Bard.

Kuruntu’s enticing smile answered him, and he took Brynnan’s cock in his mouth. It did feel very good, but it could not compare with his other lovers. Then the Bard felt a change. A sudden tide of erotic feeling consumed him out of nowhere, more potent than the young man’s sucking warranted. An ordinary man might have given in to it and let go of all inhibitions, but Brynnan opened his awareness wider, possibly endangering himself, to understand what was happening. He sensed a watching awareness different from Kuruntu’s self: it tried to draw on his mind and spirit, pushing its way ever deeper towards his innermost being. The force urged him to surrender, and he felt his very soul responding.

But the Bard had been down this road before. Others had tried to take over his mind in the past. He smoothly shielded and felt a sense of frustration and rage from the others, for there was more than a single mind at work against him. He almost recognized the personalities. Then he felt his shield strengthening—Nijal, suddenly present in his mind and aiding him. Abruptly, the attack ceased.

“Why do you pause?” he asked Kuruntu. “I am nowhere near cumming just yet.”

Kuruntu lifted his head and stared at him in disbelief. The young man’s face was pale, and his eyes glazed.

“You are working too hard,” Brynnan said kindly. “You must remember to breathe, or you’ll become faint.”

At that moment, Nijal came through the door, carrying a pack. “Am I missing something?” he asked earnestly. “Kuruntu! Are you alright? You look pale.”

“He has been working too hard to please me and forgot to breathe enough, I think.”

Nijal laid a hand on the young man’s forehead. “For some reason, you are running a fever. Brynnan, bring some cold water in a cup and hand me the bag I just brought in.”

As Brynnan did so, Nijal looked through his pack. He brought out a small powder-filled bottle and added some to the water.

“Drink this, lad. It will reduce the fever and stop the dizziness.”

“I am feeling hot,” Kuruntu replied, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead. He took the cup and drank it all. Brynnan looked at Nijal, who was hovering felicitously.

“Why don’t you help this young man relax?” Nijal asked Brynnan. “If you suck his cock, that will surely aid him while the powder does its work.”

‘But will I be safe while doing it? How long does your powder need to take effect?’ he queried Nijal’s mind.

‘You will not be at risk if you suck him off—I analyzed his cum the other night, you recall, and besides, your altered biochemistry would metabolize any toxins in it. Haven’t you already kissed him? But if it would make you feel better, just don’t let him cum in your mouth.”

‘Thanks a lot!’ Brynnan sent. “That’s a great help.’

‘My drug should begin to affect him shortly. Coupled with an orgasm, he will become very receptive and relaxed, and we can question him. The others are blocked from his mind right now by my shield,’ added the Guardian.

Brynnan turned his full attention to Kuruntu. “You’ll be well soon. But let me suck you. It will make you feel relaxed.”

He lay down beside the Master’s assistant. Brynnan did not kiss him now, but he embraced his body and ran his hands over it before sliding down on the bed to reach the young man’s cock. He fondled it in his hand, stroking it up and down until Kuruntu began to respond to him, moaning and moving his hips as his cock stiffened slowly.

“Shh . . . don’t do anything,” said the Bard in a gentle, hypnotic voice. “Put yourself into my hands—or mouth, as it were.”

“You’re too kind to me; especially after I . . .“

“You—what?” asked Brynnan softly.

But Kuruntu just sighed. Brynnan opened his lips and took in the now-stiff cock, sucking it in a smooth and even rhythm. He kept up the action, using his hand to feed the cock into his mouth as he worked his throat muscles.

The young man shuddered, and his cock leapt as the sensitive head was tongued. Brynnan felt his subject’s arousal increasing as Kuruntu prepared to ejaculate. It happened with just a little more skilled tongue work: Kuruntu’s cock spasmed, and Brynnan pulled it from his mouth just in time. Cum spurted out with surprising force for one so incapacitated.

“Yes. That’s it. Let me see you cumming. Let me rub that cream into your cock, feel it sliding in my hand . . . I’m barely touching you—I know it’s sensitive after I sucked it so hard . . . ” Brynnan kept up the hypnotic, stream-of-consciousness talking, lulling Kuruntu into a trance state, enhanced by the drug Nijal had persuaded him to drink.

Presently, Nijal said in a subdued tone, “That’s it. He is deeply under now. We can start to ask him some questions.”

“I am sure he will not know who is at the head of the Chimaera, and we also must be careful not to ask him direct questions that may trigger a self-destruct response put in his mind. At this point, I think he is just a game piece in the hands of others; the Chimaera’s tail,” mused Brynnan.

“I am in full agreement with you,” replied Nijal. “Any idea how we want to start?”

“I’ll begin,” said Brynnan. “After all, I spent a year being tortured and questioned in Torrent Mountain. They were relentless.”

“You’ve recovered well,” commented the Guardian in a low voice.

“You think so? I still have dreams. And I have become addicted to the lash as wielded by the Warlord . . .” said Brynnan, his gaze fixed on a far horizon.

“A hard school to learn your craft,” Nijal said. “Very well, go ahead and start the questions.”

Brynnan, sitting on the bed beside the Trader’s assistant, said, “Kuruntu, you feel relaxed and comfortable. You are with a trusted friend. We are just having a casual conversation.”

“Yes, we are just talking,” Kuruntu responded dreamily.

Brynnan had been intimately involved in the incursion of the Invaders—now-named Sojourners— their surrender and the settlement negotiations with them. He had some understanding of his subject.

“How old were you, in ship-time, in the Long Dark, when you were put into frozen sleep?” Brynnan asked.

“I had lived eighteen orbital years, by home planet reckoning.”

“Tell me how you were trained beforehand.”

“I was trained in aquaculture, supply logistics and crop genetics.”

Brynnan realized that tallied with the ‘supply logistics’ training Master Trader Tajinder had mentioned.

“And what name do the traders give you?” The Bard was careful not to ask for his real name.

“Kuruntu.” The assistant answered without elaboration.

He asked another straightforward question. “Did you want to settle on this world?”

But Kuruntu seemed to struggle for some moments before finally answering, ‘If I could pursue a career.”

“And what career did you choose?”

“I didn’t choose: I was chosen by—”  He tried to get the words out, becoming agitated.

Brynnan hurried to interrupt him, “It doesn’t matter who chose you. What service do you perform now?”

“I assist Master Trader Tajinder in whatever he directs me to do. I report to him on the condition of the beasts, the goods and any disagreements between the traders, also—”

“That’s enough.”

And so it went for a time, with Brynnan seeking to ask simple, answerable questions to establish a basis for comparison with later ones.

‘It’s like crossing a field filled with hidden animal traps!’ he sent to Nijal.

‘You are doing well, my friend. We know Tajinder isn’t involved because Kuruntu could pronounce his name without difficulty, so we have discovered something.’

‘A very small something. . . ‘

‘We are building a key. We can test facts with it after.’

 ‘I notice he could not tell us that the Strategist Soren assigned him to Tajinder.’

Brynnan continued to question the assistant, often repeating ones Kuruntu had previously answered, looking for variations in his answers. Then he asked, “Tell me, Kuruntu. Were you aware it might destroy me when you were instructed to give me pleasure tonight?”

Nijal’s head turned sharply, and he stared at the Bard, a protest about to pass his lips. But Brynnan sent, ‘Wait . . .and watch.’

Kuruntu answered, “It should not have destroyed you! I want no harm to you, but . . .” He fell silent again.

“But others do. I understand. You have done nothing wrong. You have tried to obey. You will not be punished.”

‘You took a risk there!’ Nijal sent.

‘But we know that others are involved and that he was given orders. Just keep shielding. Hopefully, the other parts of the Chimaera are unaware of what he just disclosed. Will Kuruntu remember this questioning when the drug wears off?’

‘He will not. And it should start wearing off very soon.’

Further questioning brought no new disclosures, and Brynnan did not want to trigger any buried destructive auto-suggestions. Kuruntu fell into a deep sleep, and Nijal declared the session over.

*    *    *

Kuruntu remembered nothing in the morning. He was a little confused but readily drank a ‘restorative’—actually an antidote—given by Nijal, and he believed the narrative they spun for him.

“Did I give you pleasure, Brynnan? he asked with a puzzled frown.

“You gave me great pleasure, Kuruntu.”

*    *    *

On the trail, the two men discussed what they had learned and their plan for arriving in Siginak. They agreed to visit the Strategist and Administrator, Soren, first, under the guise of a courtesy call. Then Nijal would locate the central medical services and find more information on the inhabitants’ depressed state of mind and any physical consequences.

At their midday rest stop, Brynnan and Nijal left the company camped by the river beside the trail and followed a tributary upstream. They found a clear space and a rock shelf by a small waterfall and stopped to refresh themselves, filling their water bottles and bathing.

Seated on the rock, Nijal glanced at Brynnan and was concerned by his faraway look and overly quiet demeanour.

“I think I know where your mind dwells at the moment, even though your thoughts are hidden from me. The interrogation bothers you, does it not?”

“I was gentle with him, but my mind returns to my own much harsher daily interrogations when I was a prisoner. The past grips me. They wanted me to confess to a false narrative, to something that did not take place. It was an impossible situation with no resolution. The questions and the torture were relentless.”

“I am sorry I was not there. What changed?”

“Until the original informants confessed? I was tortured for a year but not sexually abused. I had never been with a man, except for one occasion where my Lord Samir felt I defied him. He made me suck his cock. But he left me alone after that, until one day, he consciously decided to demand that service again. The day after that, he fucked my ass. A while later, he bullwhipped me for nearly killing one of my two torturers. It nearly broke me. Several days later, he deep-fisted me. It was the most intimate experience I had ever felt in my life. I responded to it. So did he . . .”

Nijal placed a hand on the Bard’s shoulder.

“A strange occasion for a love to begin. Especially one as deep as yours and Samir’s.”

“Ah, but we had loved each other for years before that. A silent, unacknowledged love. The Warlord hurt me so severely because he felt I had betrayed him. But it was never so.”

Nijal stood, pulling Brynnan to his feet. “Come, the ground is softer under the trees. The horses will keep watch for us like they did on our long journey.” He leaned in and kissed the Bard. “Let’s lie down here. We have time.”  

Brynnan was suddenly seized by desire. No question but that it was from his own mind. He yearned to fuck Nijal, and to that end, he hurriedly shed his clothes, then helped the Guardian to remove the rest of his. Brynnan then took him by the shoulders and kissed him with a deep hunger.

The Guardian, laughing, said, “Whoa, boy! Let me at least put a cloak down, then I’ll let you fuck me.”

Brynnan waited impatiently while Nijal fetched a jar of his special lubricant and his cloak. They sank down upon it, and the Bard resumed kissing his friend again.

Returning the kisses, Nijal noticed his friend’s cock was already hard and erect. He passed the lubricant to Brynnan. “Since you’re this impatient . . .”

“Roll over,” Brynnan urged, and Nijal complied.

Brynnan poured the slippery liquid on his cock and stroked himself, sliding the soft skin over the rigid muscle beneath before putting more lubricant on his hand and Nijal’s ass. He penetrated his friend with his fingers as he rubbed himself more, then, guiding his cock with his hand, pushed it into his friend’s rectal passage, all the way in without a pause. An urgency gripped his soul; he needed to fuck the Guardian immediately, as much as he needed to take his next breath.

Nijal seemed to understand because he did not protest the Bard’s sudden passion and deep thrusts but took them, accommodating himself with the ease of long experience.

Brynnan held his partner’s hips tightly, using the grip to control and add power to his movements as he rammed his cock in and out. Sweat formed on his body, and he drew in sobbing breaths.

“Ah! Take my cock: I can’t hold back, Nijal!” he gasped. “I need to fuck you deeply!”

“It’s good, lover; give it all to me. Cum inside me!” Nijal encouraged him.

Gripped in ecstasy, Brynnan moaned as he ejaculated. His rigid cock spasmed, and he felt the hot jet of semen as it flooded into Nijal’s ass. But he wasn’t done.

“Now I want to suck your cock, Nijal!”

The Guardian obliged, turning onto his back and pulling his friend down on his body. He gripped Brynnan’s hair as the Bard took his friend’s penis in his mouth. Nijal held him tight against his erect cock, fucking the willing throat as it relaxed and opened to swallow the entire length.

Just as the Bard had not held back when he fucked his friend, so Nijal, sensing Brynnan’s need, was not passive as his cock was thoroughly sucked off; instead, he bucked against him as he felt his orgasm approaching.

“I’m cumming in your mouth, lover. Swallow it all; suck me dry . . .”

As the hot sperm shot into Brynnan’s throat, every drop of it was swallowed until nothing was left. Brynnan then let the now-sensitive cock rest gently in his mouth as he lay over Nijal’s thighs.

“Come up here, dear friend, and rest,” the Guardian murmured. He drew Brynnan up, held him against his chest, and gave him a long, slow kiss. He tasted cum on the Bard’s tongue and let his own tongue linger to taste it all.

“Nijal, I needed that so much,” Brynnan sighed.

“I know you did.”

*    *    *

In the late afternoon, the company approached the settlement of Siginak. It lay in a broad river valley surrounded by fields of ripening crops. They passed field workers, some of whom came and spoke to the traders, but many others turned their backs, refusing to engage with the company, unlike on previous occasions. The traders found it strange and unsettling.

The settlement featured mainly dome structures of various sizes, laid out in a radial pattern, with an administrative centre in the inner circle. The Traders’ Court stood at the outer perimeter so that there were warehouses for goods, pasture fields, and shelters for the draft and pack animals.

As they reached the entrance to the main throughway, Tajinder approached the Guardian and the Bard, accompanied by three men.

“My friends, we part, but I leave you in the capable hands of these men, whom I  know, personal representatives of Administrator Soren. They will escort you to meet him and will answer any questions you have.”

Nijal sent to Brynnan’s mind, ‘That was faster than I expected. The administration must have been kept aware of our approach.’

‘We did not come under disguise or in secrecy, but hopefully, they are unaware of our purpose,’ sent the Bard.

“We thank you, Trade Master Tajinder, and we hope that your assistant Kuruntu has recovered from his fever. Your forbearance and hospitality on the trail meant much to us.”

There was a double meaning in Brynnan’s formal words, and Tajinder’s eyes sparkled warmly. “If you travel with us again, I shall make you just as welcome,” the Master responded, and his invitation to Brynnan was personal.

“I would like that,” Brynnan smiled in response.

They left, travelling alongside Soren’s men. The ride to the administrative Centre did not take too long, but it afforded the Bard and Nijal time to question their escorts, who were oddly silent on the malaise that gripped the people. However, they were quite willing to discuss the construction of the organically-sourced buildings and the specialty programs, such as hydroponically grown medicinal botanicals. Still, when Nijal, surgeon and healer, asked if any plants were neuroactive, such as antidepressants, the escorts answered that they were.

As they arrived at the Centre, a group of men awaited them, with a tall, fair-haired man at their forefront. Soren himself had come out to greet them. Brynnan remembered him from the pre-settlement conference at Narib and a meeting in Torrent Mountain.

‘We are closer to the Chimaera’s head,’ he sent. ‘Now, let us see if it will bite.’

*    *    *

 To be continued . . .