The Holy Fountain

≈ Ch. 37: SUBMISSION ≈

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Who's Who in this chapter

Lost Cousin Drake reveals to the Cousinhood his past and invites them to witness his Trial of Submission. While he gets ready, the former Great-Uncle Randel is given the chance to dramatically prove his own Submission and his sincere will to repent and follow the path to the Holy Fountain.

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~ A determined Lost Cousin ~

The breakfast, for the Cousinhood, was always a joyous and quite boisterous moment, and that morning it was no exception. All the Cousins were cheerfully chatting around the table, sharing comments about the past day and making plans for the upcoming one.

But a sudden, tense silence fell in the room when Drake, at the end of the meal, rose to his feet, nervously glancing around. As a matter of fact, only few monks – Roderick, Orren and Shay – knew about Drake’s tormented past and his recent attempt at taking his own life  [1]; for almost everyone Drake was a Lost Cousin, someone to stay away from, a pariah who deserved to be shunned and ignored.

Drake tried a couple times to talk, and in the end he haltingly uttered an uncertain “Today I’ll undergo my Trial of Submission”. In response to the puzzled glances he got, Drake took a deep breath and explained: “I know what you’re thinking. You all, when you joined the Asylum, endured such a Trial, and you now remember it as an easy task. You all were asked to prove your Submission by impaling yourselves on a leather phallus that supposedly would’ve torn your anus apart, ripping away your virginity with unbearable pain; but soon you found out that the wicked device was thin and small enough to cause nothing more than a brief discomfort, if any.”

“And yet” – Drake went on – “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even think to try. You see… my story is different than yours. I didn’t join the Asylum: I was found seemingly dead at the Asylums’ doorsteps, where I had been dumped by those very men who kidnapped me at the age of seventeen and held me captive for two years. During those two years, they abused me in ways that I wouldn’t want to tell you, but I must, to let you understand how terrible and terrifying is for me the Trial of Submission.”

Around the table, the annoyed and suspicious glances turned into sympathetic gasp of painful surprise, and this gave to Drake the courage to go on.

“They continuously forced me to drink a potion made with some herbs, that caused my manhood to rise to an irrepressible erection and gave me an irresistible arousal; they kept me in that state permanently, day and night: my aching manhood was not given a single moment to rest for two years. And then, every Saturday night, they picked me bodily and roughly impaled me on a ceremonial stone phallus. Every time I felt my anal rings rip one by one, but they ignored my screams of pain and assaulted me, forcing me to cum over and over, until they all had quenched their thirst on my exhausted, but unnaturally stiff manhood.”

“On the last night” – Drake went on after a dramatic pause – “my body just gave up. I lost my erection, and not a single drop of manly seed could be forced out of my lifeless member. The leader of those men got furious with me, and pushed me down on the stone phallus with such a force that my anal muscles collapsed, broken beyond recovery. I mercifully lost consciousness. They believed I was dead, and dumped me in front of the Asylum, probably to let me have a proper burial. But I was not dead, and Uncle Roderick could nurture the little sparkle of life left in me. He saved me, and gave me a second life; but I wasn’t anymore the man I used to be, I wasn’t even a man. My manhood was dead, and I had to wear a butt plug, to keep sealed my ruined back door.”

“I tried to follow the path to the Holy Fountain, and over time I took all the three vows of Submission, Renunciation and Temperance; but in the end I let the desperation rule my life, I left the Holy path and delved into a sinful life  [2], until, one terrible day, I gave up, utterly disgusted by myself, and… decided to put an end to my miserable life. But apparently the Holy Fountain had other plans for me, and sent me an angel, Shay, to stop me moments before I could take my life. Though I didn’t deserve it, I was granted a third life, this one, and I’m determined to live it rightfully, and take back the place I once had in this Cousinhood.”

The silence in the dining hall was complete, and most of the monks had moist eyes, learning for the first time how terrible had been Drake’s life so far; they looked at Drake with sympathy, now, and the black habit he was wearing seemed almost an insult to their eyes, now that they knew the truth.

“Now you can understand why Uncle Roderick spared me the Trial of Submission, back then” – Drake said with an uneasy expression – “The mere idea of getting impaled on a phallus, thin as it could be, triggered my worst nightmares. But Uncle Roderick helped me recovering, I don’t have to wear a butt plug anymore, now, and thanks to Shay my manhood has been revived  [3]. I’ve grown more confident in myself and in the power of the Holy Fountain, and now I feel ready to undergo my Trial of Submission. This afternoon, at 4 PM, in the Chapter Hall. I dearly hope that at least some of you will come and support me in the hard test awaiting me.”

Drake sat back down, and Uncle Roderick stood up.

“Looking at the sincere pain in my Nephews’ eyes” – he said with a serious tone – “I can tell that not one of them will miss this important moment in your life. You’ve been brave, Drake, to recall those terrible memories and share them with your Cousins. We all will be there, at your side, when this afternoon you endure your Trial.”

“But wait…” – Roderick then added, while an idea formed in his mind – “Let’s meet in the Chapter Hall one hour earlier, at 3 PM, because another Trial will take place. Randel! Please stand up.”

Randel slowly stood up, wearing a tense, almost fearful expression.

“You asked to stay here at our Asylum” – Roderick said – “and I promised to think about it. This is my decision: you will be given the chance to prove your Submission, and earn the right to join our Cousinhood. If you fail, you’ll be sent away; if you succeed, you’ll be allowed to live in the West Wing, wearing the black habit of the Lost Cousins. Tertium non datur.”

The puzzled glance Roderick got from Randel made him sigh loud: “Ahh… I’ve always known you weren’t worth of your habit, Randel… ‘There is no third option’: either you stay as a Lost Cousin, or you go away. Your guilt can be forgiven, but can’t be forgotten.”

“I’m grateful for the chance you give me, Roderick. Er… Uncle Roderick” – Randel replied, making an effort to use a meek tone he definitely wasn’t used to – “and I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove my sincere desire to make amends to you all, and to Cass… Great-Uncle Cassian. At 3 PM. I’ll be there.”

 

~ Torn apart ~

In the early afternoon, the entire Cousinhood silently flocked to the Chapter Hall, where they saw Randel, standing in the middle of the raised stage, and Roderick, a bit afar. The black habit worn by Randel contrasted in a meaningful way with the white robe worn by Roderick.

When the Cousins silently took place in front of the stage, Roderick spoke with authoritative tone. “Randel, let me state clearly that no one here is going to force you in any way. Now, and throughout your Trial, you’re always free to stop whatever is going on and go away. You’re no more a Great-Uncle, but you’re still an Uncle, and I’m in no position to command you in anything.”

“And yet, you’re not an Uncle of this Asylum” – Roderick went on, standing tall – “I am. Prove your sincere desire to follow the Holy Path, willingly enduring this Trial, or there’s no place for you here.”

Randel stood tall and said with firm voice: “I won’t fail. I submit to you, Uncle Roderick.”

“If so, then strip naked.” – Roderick curtly ordered, and Randel blushed bright red: “In… In front of everyone?”

“You don’t have to. It’s your choice. Either this, or… you know where the door is.”

Randel shook his head and hurriedly unbuttoned his cassock, letting it fall to the floor. He shamefully stood naked in front of the audience, shyly covering his manhood with his hands.

“Good.” – Roderick curtly said – “As a proof of your Submission, you are now required to surrender your bottom to two Cousins. I know that lately you let Devin fuck you, but this will be different. You must surrender your most protected treasure to Gaynor and Flann.”

Gaynor and Flann, wearing only a loincloth, stepped forward and climbed on the stage. Randel was a bit worried, but he wasn’t a virgin anymore, as Devin had fucked him many times, since the first days of his stay in the West Wing.

“Forget Devin’s masterful and sweet love-making” – Roderick warned, guessing Randel’s thoughts – “This is a punishment, not an act of love. I didn’t choose these two Cousins at random. Gaynor’s manhood is as thick as your forearm, and when he will forcefully shove it into your anus, with a single brutal thrust, you will feel your anal muscles painfully rip one by one, possibly suffering permanent damage. He will have no mercy, and will tear your hole apart.”

“And when Gaynor is done with you, spraying his seed deep inside your ruined hole, Flann will take his place. His thirteen-inch club will force open doors inside you that you don’t even know to have, making you feel a pain you’ve never experienced before.”

Randel listened to Roderick’s words with growing anxiety, and his eyes filled with horror, foreseeing the torture that Roderick had so vividly described.

In the audience, Shay looked at the scene aghast, as the cruelty of the Trial that Roderick had setup for Randel was terrifying: he knew well that Gaynor’s and Flann’s man-tools could be deadly weapon, if brutally shoved into an inexperienced, and mostly unwilling, ass. He instinctively grabbed Ewan’s hand and held it tight, murmuring: “Uncle Roderick can’t be this cruel! No man, not even Randel, deserves to be violated in his intimacy with such a brutality! Do something, Ewan! Don’t let it happen!”

Ewan turned to Shay wearing a knowing grin: “You didn’t recognize the pattern, do you?”

“The… pattern?” – Shay asked, dubious, and Ewan’s voice lowered to a whisper: “Do you remember your Trial of Submission, when you became a Novice?”

“How can I forget it! I was terrified, sure as I was that the phallus on the stool was going to rip my ass apart! I didn’t know that no harm would’ve come to me by that phallus!”

“And nevertheless” – Ewan concluded – “you obeyed Roderick’s command and impaled yourself on it, giving proof of your Submission. This is much the same. Roderick is scaring the hell out of Randel, to test his Submission, but Gaynor and Flann won’t actually hurt Randel. Trust me.”

Listening to Ewan’s words, Shay relaxed, unlike Randel on the stage, who was deadly pale.

“The time has come for you, Randel” – Roderick said aloud – “to prove your sincere desire to stay here at the Secret Springs, make amends to those whom you have hurt and go back to the Holy Path. If you willingly submit to this Trial, your ass will probably be ruined beyond recovery, but your soul will be saved, and you will gain the right to live here.”

Randel wore a steely, determined expression and stood tall: “I willingly submit to this Trial, and may the Holy Fountain give me the strength to endure the torment awaiting me”. He sat on the padded bench in the middle of the raised stage, reclined on it on his back and bent his legs at the hips, holding them with his hands: “I’m ready.”

Gaynor took some oil and greased up his cock, making it stiffen, until it throbbed in all its frightful thickness. Roderick was not exaggerating, when he said that it was as thick as Randel’s forearm. Gaynor took place between Randel’s splayed legs and pressed his humongous helmet on Randel’s tight hole.

“Beg for mercy, Randel” – he warned – “and I won’t split your ass apart.”

Randel shook his head with a determined expression, and Gaynor started pushing his manhood against the clenched hole. He feigned an aggressive attitude, he grunted and huffed, but he actually took a great care in not hurting Randel. Slowly, covertly waiting for Randel to relax his ass muscles, Gaynor managed to push his fat cock head past the inexperienced sphincter. Now and then, he pretended to shove his rod into Randel’s chute with a mighty thrust, but let his cock crawl its way inside the tight passage inch by inch.

Randel realized that the searing pain he was expecting was constantly delayed, and urged Gaynor: “So what? Why don’t you just shove it in to the hilt?”

“Do you think it’s easy?” – Gaynor replied, his hairless body glistening with perspiration – “You’re so fucking tight! I’m doing my best, here! Get ready to say goodbye to your precious tight ass, man, here it comes!”

But again, Gaynor covertly restrained his hips, gently pushing the last inches of his thick manhood inside Randel. Now that the tight passage had been opened up, Gaynor stopped restraining himself, and started fucking Randel with long powerful thrusts; with consummated experience, Gaynor was forceful enough to cause a great discomfort to Randel, but a very little pain. Every time his massive hips slammed on Randel’s buttocks, Gaynor uttered a restrained moan, and soon he was sweating profusely, apparently for the exertion required to fuck such a tight ass, but actually for the constant effort of restraining himself, so as not to hurt Randel.

“Fuck…” – Gaynor growled, panting – “your ass holds my cock like I a vise! I can’t… ooohh shit… I can’t hold… FUUUCCKK!!!”

Feigning an untimely and premature climax, but in reality exerting his Temperance, Gaynor grunted hard and hissed, thrusted his cock all the way into Randel one last time and unloaded his balls deep into his chute. Roderick, looking at the scene from aside, kept a stone face, but he inwardly smiled, admiring Gaynor’s act: he knew well that the difficult penetration, the exhausting fuck and the way-too-quick ejaculation were just meant to scare Randel and make him think that he had been spared a painful force-fuck just by a fortunate chance.

 

~ Impaled by a black rod ~

Flann played his part, and with a disdainful glance watched Gaynor pulling out and stepping back. He turned his gaze to Randel, holding his rock-hard 13-inch black rod in his hand, and said menacingly: “You won’t be as lucky this time. This club will painfully break open inner doors you don’t even suspect to have, making you howl for the unbearable pain. Beg for mercy, Randel, and you will be spared this torture.”

Randel, for a moment, seemed to be on the verge of pleading for mercy, but then he glanced at Cassian, thought at the horrible tortures he had to endure at the Blackthorne Dungeons, and replied with a serious tone: “I won’t beg for mercy, I owe it to Cassian. I ruined his life worse than you can ever ruin my man-hole. Do your worst, Flann, and it won’t be enough anyway.”

Cassian, Roderick and all the Cousins looked at Randel with admiration for his courage and determination. Flann took his place between Randel’s legs and pointed his humongous black cock, thoroughly spread with oil, to Randel’s hole. Knowing that Gaynor had already loosened Randel’s anal rings, Flann thrust his hips and abruptly buried half of his meat into Randel, until his engorged helmet was pressing against the inner sphincter.

Randel groaned, feeling a dull pain coming from deep inside him and tensed, ready to be torn apart. Flann looked down at him with a serious expression and said: “You can either resist, and I will hurt you badly; or you can surrender yourself to me completely, opening for me the doors that otherwise I’ll have to break open.”

Flann waited for a long moment, but Randel’s muscles were still tense as a violin string. In a low voice, not to be heard by Roderick, Flann almost pleaded Randel: “Don’t make me hurt you. I’m begging you, don’t make me do it. Let me in, give yourself to me. Please.”

Randel opened wide his eyes and looked intensely at Flann, who moments before seemed a brute ready to mercilessly impale him, but now looked like the gentle man he actually was, and a sudden burst of trust and affection spread in Randel’s heart. “I… I’m in your hands” – Randel murmured, doing his best to ease the tension in his body. He felt the massive club push harder, but gently, against his inner door, and with a sudden pang of pain he felt it break into his innermost recesses, reaching places that no man had ever reached before.

The pain was short-lived, and feeling Flann’s long meat invading his insides was almost exhilarating for Randel. He rested his arms on the bench, above his head, in a pose of complete surrender; and from that moment on, he basked in the pleasure that Flann’s incredible cock was giving him. His moans were so loud and erotic that Flann hissed under his breath: “Stop it! This is supposed to be painful!”, but it was too late, as Roderick and the Cousins were already shooting at them knowing grins.

Flann paced up his thrusts, feeling on the verge of the orgasm, and Randel, too, murmured: “I’m so close… I’m forbidden to touch myself, help me… Please make me cum!”

“Don’t you dare to cum!” – Flann growled, moments before stiffening in the throes of his own pleasure and pour a warm stream of man seed deep into Randel’s chute. Randel gritted his teeth, tossed his head from side to side, and with a great effort held back his own orgasm, obeying Flann’s order.

At long last, Flann stopped, stood still for a moment to catch his breath, and stepped back. Randel rose sitting on the bench, while his own unsatisfied manhood pulsated between his legs. “Why…?” – he humbly asked to Flann, and he curtly replied: “Consider it an incentive to quickly endear yourself to the Cousin, hoping that one of them will mercifully give you relief.”

 

~ Forgiveness? ~

Cassian walked through the small crowd and climbed onto the stage, looking straight at Randel: “You have guts, I’ll give you that” – he said after a long pause – “I was sure you would’ve begged for mercy the moment Roderick revealed the torment awaiting you. You must have guessed, by now, that the ‘assault’ you were subjected to was just and act to test your sincerity; you were convinced that your ass was going to be split apart with unbearable pain, and yet you bravely refused to plead for mercy. I’m impressed.”

“What I accepted to suffer” – Randel replied, uncertain – “was nothing compared to the tortures they inflicted to you at the Dungeons”.

“True” – Cassian conceded – “But I had no choice. You, on the contrary, willingly accepted a seemingly terrible punishment. I didn’t make you so brave, …Randy. You actually deserve an act of mercy…”

“Are you going to forgive me?” – Randel asked, shooting a hopeful glance at Cassian.

“No… I was thinking to a much smaller act of mercy…” – Cassian replied, and without averting his deep gaze from Randel’s eyes, he grabbed his stiff cock and started stroking it slowly, keeping it bent down, as if he was milking a cow. Randel gasped and blushed crimson red for both the desire and the humiliation, his breath paced up, and he returned the deep, intense gaze. Their eyes locked, and there was a silent tug of war, while their ancient rivalry enflamed their heart. But soon Randel gave up, acknowledging Cassian’s superiority, both in rank and in morality.

“Thank you…” – Randel haltingly murmured, feeling his juices boiling in his groin – “You… ooohh… OOOOHHH!!!”

With a sudden shiver, Randel reached the climax of his pleasure and his cock throbbed hard in Cassian’s hand, while long volley of creamy seed splatted on the floor, between their feet. Randel didn’t say a single word, and neither did Cassian; they kept looking intensely at each other until the orgasm trailed off.

Cassian withdrew his hand, streaked with sperm, and looked around, in search of a cloth to clean it up; but much to his surprise, Randel silently grabbed Cassian’s hand and brought it to his mouth, to lick away every trace of his own seed. When done, he looked up at Cassian and gave a respectful kiss on his palm, lowering his gaze in sign of submission.

“You’re not as hopeless as I thought” – Cassian said in a pensive tone, clearly taken aback by the sweet and respectful gesture – “Who knows, I could even forgive you… in a couple decades. In the meantime, wear your black habit: you earned it. But bow to the command of the Great-Uncle: though you’re an Uncle, until you’re here at the Secret Springs you will be subjected to the authority of all the resident Uncles: Roderick, Devin and Orren.”

“As you wish” – Randel promptly replied, and quickly grabbed the black habit Roderick handed him and took his leave.

Roderick looked around at the Cousins gathered in the Chapter Hall and said aloud: “Please, my Nephews, stay here, don’t go away. One of our most beloved Cousins, Drake, is going to prove to us his valiancy and his determination, and earn the right to wear again the blue habit of the Older Cousins. Devin, please…” – he added, looking at the handsome Uncle standing next to him – “take the stool we use for the Trial of Submission and mount a phallus on it.”

“Which one should I mount on the stool?” – Devin asked – “Drake’s traumas may be triggered by something too scary. Maybe the small one, or the medium size?”

“Take the large one” – Roderick replied with a serious frown – “Drake wanted to undergo a Trial, and that’s what he’ll do.”

There were murmurs among the Cousins, and Shay held Ewan’s hand tight: “May the Holy Fountain help him…”

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In the next chapter: Drake overcomes his traumas and endures the Trial of Submission, with an unsettling epilogue. Shay, urged by the Great-Uncle Cassian, accepts to give proof of his Temperance in a ritual Test, but something weird happens.

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Footnotes and references:

[1] Drake was kidnapped when he was seventeen by the ‘Satyrs’, who sexually abused him for two years; unable to overcome his trauma, recently Drake tried to kill himself, but Shay saved him. See Ch. 21 and Ch. 22.
[2] When Drake met Torrance, a younger Cousin seriously into bondage, took a liking in sexually tormenting him, replaying in his mind what the Satyrs did to him. Their wild bondage acts (see Ch. 6), in the end, made Drake realize he had become like the Satyrs who abused him, and out of desperation he tried to take his life.
[3] Shay’s tenderness and innocence could break through Drake’s armor of desperation and disgust, and for the first time in twenty years he got an erection. See Ch. 21.