To Take Away His Voice

Hiraeth

Brynnan lay on the great bed, staring into the darkness. His mind was revolving about the day’s discoveries. At their last meeting, the Warlord, Nijal, Lord Raith and Brynnan had made the decision to explore the sealed Inner Redoubt in search of records of the earliest days…

A deep voice interrupted Brynnan’s train of thought, “Can’t you sleep?”

Arms came around him as Samir pressed his body against the Bard’s. Brynnan could feel its heat, and also an erect cock pushing against him.

He instinctively pushed back into the welcoming hardness. “What we discovered disturbs me. The records we found do support our history at the Redoubt of ArMor-ys in my homeland, but the differences suggest that as a whole people, we split into groups which adopted different cultural identities, centered around each of the Redoubts.”

“And this is what occupies your mind tonight? It is indeed food for thought,” mused the Warlord, “but a warrior learns to sleep when he finds the opportunity. Thoughts must be put aside. Submit to me, my lover, and I will give you sleep.”

“Mmm yes, my Lord. Do with me what you will.”

Brynnan reached to the bedside for the bottle of lube, passing it to Samir. Then he angled his ass and raised one leg forward to accommodate Samir’s big cock. He felt his lover’s hand and fingers, wet with the liquid, probe his rectal passage, massaging it. He moaned as an answering heat flooded his own body.

Samir forced his cock into him. The Warlord’s held still for some moments, then he pushed in deeper. As he was doing this, he played with Brynnan’s nipples, pinching, and stimulating them. He then nuzzled the Bard’s neck, biting it softly.

“You are my willing slave,” he growled.

A wave of pure submission, felt only when he was with the Warlord, washed over Brynnan. His own cock formed an answering stiffness. Samir’s hand stroked the Bard’s body, down from chest to flanks. Then Samir grasped Brynnan’s cock as he used it to pull his lover’s ass back against his own body, drawing his cock in deeper. He began long, slow, lazy thrusts.

Brynnan responded by moving his body to support the thrusts, pushing hard against the invading rod. He was too overcome to speak, other than with moans. Samir’s hand slid over the head of Brynnan’s cock, using pre-cum as a lubricant. At the same time, he bit the Bard’s neck harder, holding him like a great cat mating and immobilizing its sexual victim.

Brynnan shivered with a mixture of lust and surrender to this man who was fucking him. He found his voice, “Cum in me, Lord. I plead.”

The words seemed to turn the Warlord on even more. His thrusting increased. It was as if the night developed a heartbeat and both Samir and Brynnan’s hearts pumped in time with the darkness. For endless moments, there was only heat, sweat and the rhythm of their mutual lust and love. Then the Warlord’s body stiffened and jerked. He uttered a deep growl as he ejaculated into his lover’s willing ass.

Brynnan could thoroughly feel the Warlord’s cock pumping cum. He surrendered himself and came, too, shooting his own cum into Samir’s hand. Samir gently massaged his cum-soaked hand over the cock in its grip.

“You are mine, my lover, my bond-slave, and my Bard,” the Warlord whispered close to Brynnan’s ear.

Brynnan twisted around in Samir’s embrace and received his deep and possessive kiss. Body pressed against body, their cum-soaked cocks rubbing against each other.

The Bard felt that he couldn’t get enough of Samir’s sexual domination of him. He felt gratitude and also amazement that he could submit his will to another, a sea-change from his normal self-possession and control.

Before his imprisonment and torture, he had served the Warlord exactingly and with complete loyalty as both his position and training demanded. But the many intense and dangerous experiences within the Warlord’s military campaigns against persistent invaders had brought them close as friends and companions, always as equals.

They were still equals - just the power dynamic had changed into Dominant and submissive. But the deepening love between them, and the sexual intimacy, was new. Samir had been the first man to fuck the Bard or demand sexual service from him. Before, Brynnan’s sexual activities had been exclusively with women.

Brynnan tried to express his complex feelings in the deep kisses he returned to the Warlord.

Eventually, Samir just held him and whispered, “Go to sleep,” and Brynnan submitted to that command, too.

The next day brought harp and voice together with Andri, the young baritone singer, and after that, vocal practice in the Conservatory Hall with Master Nazar.

Geraint accompanied Andri to his sessions with the Bard. The old warrior had taken on Andri as a sexual apprentice, and enjoyed feasting his eyes on the young man, as he listened to the beautiful and moving songs.

Brynnan played the harp, Mavrenn, with deep gratitude. He had his sense of touch back, thanks to Nijal, but his fingers still needed strengthening and calluses had to be formed to cope with Mavrenn’s metal strings. But his body memory was strong, and the grace notes and flourishes naturally flowed from his fingertips.

Voice practice with Master Nazar was more demanding. Brynnan, who had come within a hair’s breadth of losing his voice totally, needed to extend his vocal range again after the surgery, and re-acclimatize to some of the more difficult song forms.

Of particular importance was the ArMorican ‘shadow singing’, an old vocal style, mostly unaccompanied, where the singer puts himself in the shadow of his song, sublimating his own personality. The style was very demanding, with ornamentation, note replacement, inflections, and more esoteric traits. Its goal was to produce a specific emotion in the listener, usually connected to the lyrics of the song. Brynnan had used it to great effect, even to swaying his audience into a specific train of thought. It could be dangerous, as in songs of death and dying, where it could conceivably bring a listener to despair. Thus, it was a discipline performed only by the Master Bards in Brynnan’s own country.

And so Brynnan practiced it now. Only the music master, Nazar, and a handful of apprentices were present as an audience. The emotion to be invoked was ‘hiraeth’: a longing or nostalgia for things of long ago, or past events, places, or relationships. So, he sang ‘The Pass of the Moon’, which told of a stone circle in a certain mountain pass. Wild horses frequented the place and would seem to drift past the stones in the moonlight, their hooves hidden in a low ground-mist. The song evoked the sound of wind in the grass and the shuffling of horses’ hooves. It was a song of particular significance to the Bard, as he had actually experienced it once, so for himself, the feeling of hiraeth was real, and he longed to return there. As tradition demanded, he faced partly away from his audience.

His voice had changed since his larynx had been punctured by the claw-collar, as well as a carotid artery, when Brynnan had been forced to wear it during the time he was a prisoner of the Warlord. His tone was a little deeper, and not as perfect. There was now, to Brynnan’s own ear, an unpredictability in his voice, which he worked to control.

The song finished, and Brynnan lapsed into silence. One of the apprentices, a woman with long, dark red hair, was the first to speak.

“My heart aches to be there again, in the moonlight. But the strangest thing is that I have never been there at all!”

The other apprentices began to speak; each relating the emotions they were feeling. The apprentices thanked both Masters and left, leaving only the Music Master present with Brynnan.

“It is developing. You have a great power. But I am sure I don’t need to tell you to be careful in its use.”

Brynnan thought of the song he’d composed for his Lord and had yet to sing.

That evening the Warlord and Brynnan underwent a cleaning and took a long shower with each other. Brynnan enjoyed the slick feeling of the water over his and Samir’s skin. He knelt and sucked his Lord’s cock for a while, but Samir would not allow himself to cum.

The Warlord also had a message for him, “Geraint wishes our company in his quarters tonight.”

There was a light in his grey eyes. Brynnan knew he and Geraint were up to something.

When the Warlord and Brynnan arrived at Geraint’s quarters, the “something” turned out to be Andri. Geraint had an air about him of a cat that has just had not only the cream, but the whole cheese, too.

Andri greeted them both respectfully and with a solemn formality. He was dressed simply in a high collared, loose-sleeved shirt and tighter breeches. His hair - blond over dark streaks, was still damp. He glanced at the Master Bard and smiled briefly, an acknowledgment of their shared time at practice that morning

“I am glad you could come here, m’Lord; Master Bard,” Geraint said. “My apprentice here has been learning the ins-and-outs of pleasuring members of the male sex.”

“Geraint, as you know, I am very discreet and tactful, but that was a terrible pun!” Brynnan replied.

 The old warrior grinned, “So long as we are agreed.” He then announced, “Andri is still an ass virgin. No, Brynnan, lad, don’t look so shocked. We thought we would save that honour… for you!” 

Before the Bard could reply, Andri stepped forward towards Brynnan, “I would indeed be honoured if you, with Lord Samir’s permission, would be the first one to take me anally-,” Here Geraint loudly and meaningfully cleared his throat, and Andri continued, “- I mean, fucked me in the ass.”

Brynnan was momentarily disconcerted, “But I have never…” he looked towards his Lord.

Samir looked back steadily at his bond-servant and nodded once.

The Bard recovered his poise somewhat, “As my Lord grants… I accept, Andri. I also am a virgin. I have so far only received in the ass, but never taken. But it can be a journey that we’ll embark on together, and we can both learn as we go.

However,” he paused and smiled reassuringly at the young singer, “we will have expert guidance.”

Geraint nodded approvingly, “Our Lord has decided to guide us in person. He will partner with me. Together we have more years of ass-fucking experience than you’ve been alive.”

Brynnan turned privately to the Warlord, “My Lord, what we talked about -”

“One time is not a relationship,” Samir replied in a low voice. “I have wanted to broaden your experience in this way, and Andri seems like a good match for you in this.”

Seeing the concern on Brynnan’s face, the Warlord divined its cause intuitively, “Don’t worry, my lover; I have no plans at present to subject you to fucking any other man than Andri.”

Brynnan breathed a sigh of relief. The thought of being subjected to fucking someone like Lord Tangar, or Firian was extremely distasteful.

He turned back to Andri and Geraint. He took Andri in his arms and gave him a formal kiss of welcome. Then they proceeded to undress each other.

Samir and Geraint did the same. Interspersed with the disrobing were passionate kisses and some nipple play, and Brynnan found he and Andri mirroring their actions.

The two couples were generations apart in age, yet their feelings matched. Brynnan glanced over at the naked bodies of the Warlord and the warrior. The Tiger and the Bear, he thought of them. Samir, tall, mature, powerful and with an animal vitality in contrast with Geraint, who had a stockier build, adorned with grey body hair, aged but still fit and muscular due, no doubt, to his daily Arena training sessions.

He visualized himself and Andri. Brynnan’s own lithe but muscular build compared to Andri’s man-boy physique: a slender body coupled with the promise of powerful shoulders and a little more filling out to do. His blond hair and entrancing dark eyes set below heavy black brows, the slightly upturned nose and sensuously curved lips, the muscles in his jaw, gave Brynnan a ripple of pleasure.

Geraint picked up a bottle of personal lubricant, “Tonight we use this. Rimming, or lesson four, will be covered next time.” He poured a generous amount into his hand and passed the bottle to Brynnan.

Samir bent over the bed, supporting himself on his elbows. Geraint flexed lube-greased fingers and began to probe his Lord’s ass, while his other hand stroked Samir’s back and firm gluteal muscles.

Brynnan followed suit, doing the same to Andri. It felt strange to him seeing his Lord on the receiving end of an ass fucking, but there was nothing subordinate in Samir’s attitude. He realized that both Geraint and his Lord were long-time sexual partners and friends on an equal footing. While it wasn’t a love relationship such as he and Samir shared, there was love there, tightly woven in their friendship.

But Andri was responding to Brynnan’s touch, and Bryman had been skilled in his lovemaking with women. Samir, likewise, was grunting with pleasure. Then Geraint took his cock in hand and played it around Samir’s ball sac and perineal area, before moving it up to the ass hole. The large mushroom head oozed pre-cum and looked red and swollen with blood. Brynnan recalled the feel of it entering his own ass. His cock wasn’t quite as thick as Geraint’s, and the glans was smaller, but Brynnan suspected Geraint had thought of that when he had set up for Andri’s first ass-fucking partner.

Geraint started to push the head of his cock into Samir’s ass, so Brynnan followed suit. He could feel when Andri tensed and heard him cry out.

“Nnh… it hurts, but it’s good. Just wait… yes! Go deeper…”

“See? He knows what it takes,” Geraint growled to the Bard, as he pushed deeper into Samir’s own ass.

Both Andri and Samir were leaning side by side across the bed, within touching distance. Samir reached over and twined his hand in Andri’s hair, “Submit to my Bard. Breathe… let him lead and take you where you will want to go.”

Geraint had fully entered Samir’s ass and was starting to thrust in long, slow strokes. Brynnan did likewise, only having to pause a little more often to allow for Andri’s inexperience. Soon, both the Bard and the warrior were thrusting freely within their partners asses. Geraint verbally encouraged Andri and praised him for the way he was taking it. Brynnan found it erotic to be beside his lover and his friend and the young singer. It felt as if the lines between bodies were blurring, as if he were fucking his Lord and Geraint was fucking Andri. Indeed, he revelled in the feelings of when he had been fucked by both Geraint and Samir. He knew Samir was feeling every inch of Geraint’s thick cock, just as he had too. He felt close to cumming but deferred to Geraint.

“Tell me when I should cum! Do I wait for Andri?”

“No, for two reasons,” Geraint paused to grunt, and thrust harder, “It takes off the pressure to perform that Andri may feel, and it asserts your control of the situation. You can always help him to cum, after.

“And you can cum now, my lad. You don’t want to spoil Andri’s first time by over-use. Better to leave him wanting more.

“Don’t get jealous but m’Lord and me, we’re going to cum together.”

Geraint thrust deeper and Samir merely said, “Go!” Geraint went.

Their vocal and shuddering orgasms set off Brynnan, who felt himself cumming, too. His orgasm was particularly intense as his cock pumped cum into Andri's tight, virgin ass hole. But even in the throes of his passion he reached down and took Andri’s cock in his hand. It only took a couple of pulls before the singer ejaculated.

It was midnight. Brynnan sat in the terrace adjoining the Warlord’s chambers. He was alone as Samir had stayed behind with Geraint to discuss the previous day’s findings in the Deep Redoubt.

There was darkness and clear starlight. His night vision was acclimating to the dark. He could see quite well and wondered if enhanced vision was one of the side effects of Nijal’s blood that had been infused into him. The other effect mentioned by Nijal, enhanced sexual response, seemed true, or perhaps it was just his own mind’s interpretation of his recent experience with Andri.

The darkness spoke to him. There was no wind to disturb Mavrenn, but the voice of the Torrent waterfall  echoed clearly with a low roar. Mavrenn was at his knees. He considered the song he had written for Samir, and he began to play the tune very softly. He joined in with his voice, keeping everything low. It was a shadow song, composed to intensify specific emotions. There would be some risk in performing it for his Lord, but he needed to take that chance. Soon, he decided, very soon.

The darkness intensified. He kept on singing.