To Take Away His Voice

Brothers in Arms

A hand carefully lifted the mantle from Brynnan’s prostrate form. Brynnan felt an odd sense of loss. He had been covered by Samir’s cloak; it was warm and bore the Warlord’s scent. Thankfully, the bleeding seemed to have stopped on Brynnan’s ass and back, so the cloth did not stick to the cuts from the bullwhip Samir had punished him with.

The previous night Samir had taken him downstairs and bathed his wounds. In doing so, the Warlord’s naked back had been exposed, revealing old scars of a bullwhip. Brynnan began to understand how Samir could judge the strength and number of blows or know the devastating pain the whip would inflict.

The hand shook his shoulder, and a voice said, “Wake up, Master Bard.”

Brynnan carefully half-turned to see a grizzled, older man standing over him. He was not tall, like the Lord Samir, but he had a compact physique that had obviously once been powerful. He was muscled still. His face bore a scar running across the forehead and pulling at one eye. An old warrior and, it seemed, a survivor.

“I am Geraint. I am to attend to you while you heal. I’ll also oversee any preparations that Lord Samir might want of you.”

Brynnan could only be glad it wasn’t Firian. The young, former attendant had a one-track mind and had been hell-bent on seducing him. Brynnan hadn’t been the slightest bit interested.

Geraint assisted him to rise and helped him piss in the bucket. Then he took Brynnan to the table and dressed his wounds with competent and efficient hands.

“I have served Lord Samir for twenty years,” the man said, “Been on all his campaigns; fought alongside him and looked out for him. I am his man.”

Was his comment a warning as well as demonstrating his loyalty to the Warlord? That, although seemingly friendly, he could not be subverted in any way?

“I’ve seen you on the field with him,” the Bard replied.

Geraint then removed the tapes from Brynnan’s wrists and inspected them.

“Hmmm… claw cuffs. Efficient little buggers,” he commented in a matter-of-fact tone. He began to re-tape them.

“I remember when you were out with us, hunting down the wolf’s heads who were raiding the villages in Scarfell. Heard you play that harp of yours and the songs. Went straight to the heart. Pity. Still, if that is Lord Samir’s will, then so it shall be.”

Brynnan felt a pain in his own heart at Geraint’s words as memories surged.

“Can my wrists heal?”

“Dunno. It’s possible, I suppose. Happened before. Depends on our Warlord’s will, too,” Geraint said as he, not ungently, applied salve and dressings to Brynnan’s back.

Brynnan tamped down a surge of hope, knowing that was not in Samir’s plans for him.

Among the items on the table was an odd-looking metal device. Geraint picked it up, “Turn around, Master Bard, and let me at you. Lord Samir wants you caged while you heal.”

Geraint took the device and caged Brynnan’s cock with it. A ring fitted around his balls, and a leather strap separated them. Metal coils encased his cock. There was a divided bar at the tip, which allowed Brynnan to piss while restricting his ability to have a hard-on and, therefore cum. He turned a small key that fitted into the cage’s lock before replacing the lanyard around his neck.

“Not allowed to jerk off, are you? I’ll remove it once a day, so I can wash you, but that’s all.”

Geraint then brought over a bundle from the table, which turned out to be a dark-blue cloak. He draped it lightly over Brynnan’s shoulders, making him wince slightly. The cloak was warm, and Samir’s scent was on it.

‘’No clothes for you until you heal up. This is one of my Lord’s older cloaks. He honours you,” Geraint said with a short laugh.

“More likely, he trains his hound,” retorted Brynnan dryly, referring to the practice of bonding a hunting hound by giving it an article of his master’s clothing to lie on in its kennel.

“Not stupid, are you?” Geraint said.

He led the Bard back to the pallet and helped him down. He brought a bowl of some oatmeal gruel. Brynnan ate it as best he could, then lay on his side and watched as the old Warrior tidied the chamber.

Presently the door opened, and the Warlord himself walked in. ‘’How is he?” were his first words to Geraint.

“It will take a long time to completely heal, but only a few days before he can be placed on his back. Anyway, that will give me time to rig up the frame for you, Lord.”

Samos came over to Brynnan and appraised him with a critical eye. “You will remain resting, and no exercising. I don’t want you to tear the cuts open’,” then he added, “This is Geraint: he is my man and not a servant. I’m sure you recall him. He and I go back a long way. He will treat you fairly, and you, in turn, will treat him with the respect you accord me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord”

‘’Furthermore, every morning, you will suck his cock to thank him for his care. Do it well.”

Brynnan was startled, but he hid his surprise.

“As you wish, Lord.”

Samir turned and looked at Geraint, who nodded, “Thank you, my Lord.”

“You will begin it now; I will watch and see how you do.“

Brynnan allowed the cloak to fall from his shoulders as he knelt, waiting. Geraint walked over and stroked Brynnan’s shoulder-length dark hair. His touch was almost tender. He then took the Bard’s hand and placed it on his crotch. Even with the tingling of damaged nerves, Brynnan could feel a growing bulge under the doeskin leather of the man’s breeches.

“Go on then, Master Bard.”

Brynnan slowly opened Geraint’s clothes with his teeth and freed his cock. It was large, with a slight upcurve, springing from a nest of grey hairs. Bluish veins patterned the cock’s length. The helmet head was wider than the shaft, with a drop of pre-cum glistening at the tip. Brynnan licked it off. The cock felt surprisingly hard and firm for a man of Geraint’s age.

As if reading his thoughts, the Warrior chuckled. He nodded down at his dick, “He’s an experienced old soldier. Never let me down yet. Whores, brothers-in-arms, enemies, prisoners, and also my wife, Gods rest her soul.”

Brynnan took the cock in his mouth. It was not unpleasant. The man’s natural scent was animal and very masculine, and the taste raw and salty. Brynnan’s lips pushed the foreskin back over the large head and licked more pre-cum off it. Then he slid his tongue down the shaft, feeling the velvety texture of it and the pulsing veins. He slowly took it down his throat. Geraint did not force him. He was still stroking Brynnan’s head, letting the Bard do all the work.

Brynnan began to suck harder, keeping the tempo slow and deep. Then he pulled himself off the cock and turned his head to lick the man’s balls. He sucked them into his mouth, and the hairs tickled his throat. He swirled his tongue around each testicle even though his throat was still sore from where the claw collar had bit into his neck. He could only be thankful that he had not fallen during his whipping and that the claws had pierced no deeper.

He resumed sucking the cock. A strange thing was happening. Brynnan’s mind now felt ‘ín the zone,’ and all he could think of was satisfying this man. He started to become aroused, and his own cock strained at the confinement of the cage. He felt frustrated. He sucked harder, wanting to grasp and fondle Geraint’s cock with his hands, but that was impossible.

Suddenly he was aware of another cock beside Geraint’s. It was Samir’s own outsized shaft pushing its way into the action. Samir stood close beside Geraint. Brynnan paused to switch his attention to Samir. He sucked deeply on the Warlord’s cock, then turned back to the old Warrior’s dick. Then Samos was pushing the tip of his cock against Geraint’s, rubbing the two heads together, moistening both of them with his pre-cum. Brynnan did the best he could, sucking one cock, then the other.

Samir reached down and grasped the shaft of both cocks in his hand. He began to jerk them together as Brynnan kept licking and sucking. Geraint groaned in pleasure like a bear. Finally, Samir released Geraint’s cock to work on his own, rubbing his hand briskly up and down the shaft, which was moistened with the cock juices of both men. He jerked faster, emitting a tiger-like snarl of lust as he ejaculated. Cum spurted forcefully over the side of Brynnan’s unshaven face and all over Geraint’s cock.

“Clean him off,” the Warlord instructed.

Brynnan relinquished his sucking to lick the sides of Geraint’s cock, cleaning up all the cum. The man was grunting in earnest now.

‘’That’s it, young Bard, finish me off good.”

Brynnan complied. He sucked deep and hard to the root. The steady rhythm drove the old Warrior over the edge. He pumped his cum into Brynnan’s mouth. There was plenty of it. He grasped the Bard’s hair tightly as his body twitched with the aftershocks of the orgasm. Then he withdrew his cock and rubbed it all over the side of Brynnan’s face, mingling his still dripping cum with Samir’s. Brynnan licked the mixed cum off it, sucking gently on the now-sensitized head. Reluctantly, Geraint let go of Brynnan’s hair and moved back.

Brynnan was sweating and panting. He felt incredibly aroused, incredibly frustrated, as his cock strained to become erect in its cage. He also felt totally used but oddly unresentful.

“Thank Geraint that he allowed you to suck his cock. You will do this to him every morning he desires it,” the Warlord said as he straightened his clothes.

“Oh, I think I might desire it,’’ Geraint laughed. “You did very well, Master Bard, and I should know.”

He turned to Samir, “And you say he never sucked cock before he sucked yours? Incredible!”

“Our Bard is skilled in mastering the arts quickly,” Samir replied. “I give him incentive.”

Brynnan’s face burned as he listened. He thought he was accustomed to shaming, but the casual way the men discussed him was humiliating.

He stayed on his knees, “Thank you, Warrior, for letting me suck you, and I also thank you, Lord Samir, for the honour you give me.”

Brynnan’s phrasing could have been ironic, but he carefully kept to a neutral tone.

The Warlord raised an eyebrow, but he did not take issue with the Bard’s choice of words.

‘’I judge five days for his back to heal enough. Then he should be ready for you. I will make sure he is well-prepared,” Geraint said.

Brynnan could only wonder what he meant.

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