Chapter 5 - The Test

They were awakened without warning. Namor, Adrianus, and their newest recruit Pindaro, were all sharing a small room until they passed their exam. Suddenly, golden-clad servants were prodding them awake.

Shaking the bleariness from his eyes, Namor slid out of the thin sheets, and slipped into his red phallicus robe. It was gauzy and light, hanging open at the front, revealing his ripped muscular physique. His manhood was engorged with the natural rise of the sun.

Adrianus and the new man also robed themselves, and without a word, the golden-clad servants beckoned them through the quiet Pleasurehouse halls. As Namor walked, his proud erection swayed lazily through the morning air. Their bare feet padded softly through the carpeted hallways, until Namor realized that they were ascending – heading up to the pleasure levels, where clients were served.

“I think we’re about to be tested.” he muttered to Adrianus, who seemed to shiver in anticipation. Namor had found in him a fast friend, and an apt partner, when he desired to practice the techniques that the Master taught to them.

Adrianus gave him a half-smile, but Namor could tell that he was weighed down with nerves. Most of the Phallicus recruits were trained for weeks before they were tested, but the three of them had only been in the House a few days. They had practiced much, Olmir almost a constant presence at their side as they learned, observed, and practiced the techniques of pleasuring men. They spent all their time in the male pleasure classes, skipping the female training, because their main reason for being hired was the upcoming visit of the Prince.

But despite their almost exhaustive approach to male pleasure, Namor too felt a twinge of doubt about the test. What would happen if he failed? Would they be relegated to the gold robes? Forever serving other men? Or would they be returned to the streets? A cold chill slipped down Namor’s spine. He couldn’t leave the safety of the House yet. Best he remain hidden. He needed to pass this test.

Pindaro was a strange one, of a slimmer build, but well developed. Like Adrianus, he wore only the gold band at the neck, and around the base of his tool. Namor didn’t know why the newer man had suddenly been added to the roster, or where he had come from, but he supposed that being new himself, it wasn’t his place to question. Still, something about the man burned at Namor, warning him that he was not to be trusted…

They came to a curtained doorway, and the servants motioned for Pindaro to enter. He looked at the other two recruits and shrugged, saying only a quiet, “Good luck”, before brushing aside the curtain and stepping inside.

The servants indicated that they were to continue walking. Namor strained to see if he could hear what Pindaro was being asked to do, but they were moving too quickly for him to make out any sounds or words. Soon they stopped at another doorframe, and Adrianus was waved forward. He stepped aside, then leaned back and kissed Namor softly. Their tongues danced together as they warmed each other with the heat of their bodies. Adrianus parted with a sigh. “I needed that.”

“Why?” Namor asked.

Adrianus smiled. “A kiss from you is pleasure for a thousand men.”

With a playful tug of his own swelling cock, and a wink, Adrianus spun backwards into his testing room, and was gone.

The golden-robed servants led Namor down the hallway to a third curtained doorway and silently gestured for him to enter. The curtain was the same red gauze fabric as their robes – he could see nothing through its folds. He took a deep breath, plumped his velvety shaft a little bit, and strode into the room with what he hoped was a sensuous glide.

The room was large and almost perfectly square. The walls and the ceiling were concealed by draped golden fabrics, masking the size of the space and introducing a sense of intimacy. Elegant tables lined the walls, some with candles, some with statues of the gods in erotic positions. Incense was burning, which sparkled sharply into Namor’s senses, increasing his alertness. His pulse increased slightly, but in the quiet of the pleasure room, it sounded like thunder beneath his mostly-bare skin.

At the center of the room was a lowered pit, with steps leading down to it, and in the middle, a large bed. It had no head or foot, there were pillows arranged with deliberate dis-symmetry across its surface.

Around the bed stood four phallicus men, their red robes and gold bands marking their ranks. Each wore the uniform, but Namor noticed that Marcus the designer had given them each a personal flair. One man’s body hair was perfectly groomed, while the next was clean shaven, but inked with tantalizing tattoos. Their robes lay open, as was the custom, and each manhood stood at attention, freely dribbling streams of essence. None of them stirred as he walked into their center.

As he turned to the last his stomach lurched. The short dark hair and beard were unmistakable – it was Dardanio, favorite of the Dominus, and current Prime Offering. Thought he was shorter, his eyes met Namor’s with a level, challenging gaze, and Namor glimpsed the ghost of a smirk float across his full lips. But Dardanio made no other moves.

From somewhere else in the room, a deep voice murmured, “The Phallicus does not merely perform sexual acts. He embodies them. The first test of the Phallicus is selflessness. Relinquish your own desire and allow your partner’s needs to become your own.”

Namor shrugged with lithe grace to hide that he was nervous. The red robe slid off his shoulders as light as a cloud, and he was naked before the room. One of the four, a slimmer figure with a smooth body shrugged out of his robe and lay down on the bed before him. Namor knelt and then crawled onto the bed beside him, sitting back onto his feet facing the man. He gently reached out and caressed his arm lightly, allowing his hand to trace over onto the man’s chest. His partner shivered naturally in response, and placed his own hand on the inside of Namor’s bulging thigh.

Sensing the direction of his partner’s intent, Namor pushed his hips forward slowly, until the back of the man’s hand rested against the side of his pulsing tower, where it joined his balls. The man lightly wrapped his hand around the base of Namor’s shaft – a small sigh escaping his lips as his fingers could not close around the thrumming heat they held. Namor allowed a low throaty purr to rumble through himself. He wanted so badly for the man to begin using his hand, but he seemed content to simply hold the massive endowment before him. Namor gritted his teeth. Selflessness, echoed in his head.

Namor moved his own hand down the man’s chest, tracing the ripples in his abdomen before gently taking hold of this man’s own arousal. The man stirred, his hips shifting slightly upward and his legs widening a bit to allow better access. He wanted the attention. Namor began to stroke him eternally slowly, setting a rhythm as deep as the earth. The man’s shaft continued to dribble, and soon Namor’s hand was slick with the salty essence as he milked him.

With his other hand Namor reached down and began playing with the man’s balls, squeezing and gently pulling them. The man’s breathing increased accordingly, so Namor continued, ever so slowly increasing the pace as he built the momentum for this beautiful man he was holding.

Namor felt a burning urge rising inside himself, and noticed a bead of precum forming at the top of his own veiny heat. But this event was not about himself. He kept milking the man with one hand and with the other, slapped his own meat flatly. A stinging reminder to hold back.

The man’s eyes had drifted closed in the proceedings, and Namor gently raised one of his legs, hooking it over his left shoulder. His right hand continued to stroke the man’s engorged cock, while his left slipped beneath his balls and lightly brushed against his hole. The man moaned at the contact, so Namor slipped the finger into his own mouth, wetting it well before returning it to the man’s hole and pressing gently inside.

Namor’s own stiff manhood was now pressed against the man’s raised thigh, and it was all Namor could do to refrain from grinding himself against him. But he had to admit he was enjoying himself, making this man writhe and moan before him. He turned his head to the left and nipped lightly at the man’s leg with his teeth, kissing his leg while stroking his manhood and thrusting gently into his hole.

With a cry and a gasp of relief, the man’s entire body shuddered, and he shot ropy gobs of his cream across his chest and abdomen, with a healthy remainder drooling onto Namor’s hand. Namor removed his finger slowly, then licked both of his hands clean, deliberately so that the man could watch. Tasting the salt of another man drove Namor’s vision into the red – the color tinged everything at the edges of his vision, and it was a struggle to keep from seizing him, turning him over, and mounting him immediately.

Instead, Namor sat back, his erection throbbing lazily, and did nothing.

The pleasured man crawled to the edge of the bed, stood and resumed his post, leaving his robe on the floor. His salt began to drip down his pectoral with a lazy viscosity, and his breathing was heavy. A low bell sounded from somewhere outside of Namor’s field of red-lust vision, and the voice returned.

“The Phallicus does not grant pleasure to others. He serves them. The second test of the Phallicus is humility. Relinquish your pride and leave your ego outside the room.”

With a sinking feeling, Namor suspected what was coming next and sure enough, Dardanio was stepping forward. Dardanio slipped out of his red robe, the gold bands gleaming at the base of his shaft, his neck, his upper thigh and ankle on one leg. Both of his upper arms were bulging out from tightly fitted golden bands.

Dardanio approached Namor, who rose to greet him, but Dardanio pushed him back down onto the bed, growling, “You’re mine now, Thracian. No one’s gonna save you.”

Namor bit back a retort, breathing quietly before asking, “How can I please you, my lord?”

Dardanio chuckled, planting one leg on the bed before him. His proud erection stood high and his heavy balls were on full display, but Namor was not expecting what Dardanio said next: “Suck my toes, Thracian. Lick my feet.”

Trying to mask his startle, Namor rose again slightly, taking Dardanio by the arms and spinning him onto his back. Then he knelt at Dardanio’s feet, his massive thighs framing his still unsatisfied and unbound cock. He took up Dardanio’s foot carefully. Namor had not covered foot pleasuring in his lessons with Olmir and Adrianus…and as he looked into Dardanio’s eyes, he saw a gleam there. The man knew it, and sought to make him fail.

But what Dardanio didn’t know was Namor’s drive to succeed. And succeed he would. With both hands he massaged the ball and arch of the foot as he gently placed the big toe in his mouth, licking it lightly. It tasted of sweat and stink, but Namor had eaten worse food on the battlefront, so he stifled his nose’s protest and set to work, sliding his tongue over and between each of Dardanio’s toes as he massaged his foot.

Distantly, he was aware that Dardanio’s hand had unconsciously found its way to his cock, and he was stroking himself merrily as Namor lavished his foot.

Unsure of where to go, Namor switched to the other foot, attending equally to all of Dardanio’s digits, smiling to himself as he made his opponent squirm with pleasure, and observed that he was now pleasuring himself much more fervently. But his success was about to backfire.

Dardanio pulled his feet away suddenly, waving his veiny member and demanding, “Enough foot play, Thracian, bend over so I can breed your ass.”

Namor paused, shifting backward unconsciously, as his breath caught in his chest. The arrogant sod wanted to mount him. Dardanio raised an eyebrow as the minute dragged on. “Well?”

Wordlessly, Namor leaned forward, positioning himself on all fours. His still-thundering manhood stood powerfully in line with his body, not drooping beneath him, as his heavy balls shifted lower and swung freely. Dardanio grinned and laughed with evident glee, taking his time getting in position behind him.

Namor flinched as he felt Dardanio slapping his manhood against his ass, sliding it up and down along the cleft of Namor’s cheeks. But before long, he could feel the dark-haired man pushing himself against his hole, without even stretching him first. Namor braced for what was to come.

With a grunt, the fat head of Dardanio’s body forced its way inside, quickly followed by several inches of his length. Namor inhaled sharply at the intrusion, his lungs filling with the spiced incense of the room. He could feel Dardanio shudder with pleasure as the tight warmth of Namor’s body enveloped him.

Dardanio gripped Namor’s purple hair roughly and pulled his head back into an arch as he thrust even more of his length into him. Namor never trembled. The pain was fleeting, and soon there was only a sensation of warmth and fullness. When Dardanio brushed a secret place inside of him, Namor finally let out a moan, which his partner misinterpreted as pain.

“You like that, huh? You fuckin’ like my cock up your ass?” Dardanio hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna breed you so hard you won’t be able to stand.”

Letting go of Namor’s hair, Dardanio seized Namor’s hips and began roughly rutting him, setting a fast almost brutal pace. Dardanio’s thighs slammed against Namor’s buttocks, making a tight clapping sound, with a cold pressure where the gold band encircled his thigh. The dark-haired stud’s heavy balls smacked against Namor’s larger set with a sweaty ‘put put’ sound with each forward thrust.

Putting one hand on the center of his back, Dardanio forced Namor to bend forward and down so that his face was resting on the bed itself, with his backside in the air. Namor rolled his eyes, but not so Dardanio could see, and allowed the smaller man to have his way, flinching with the occasional internal twinge.

Dardanio, it turned out, had quite high tolerance and endurance for pleasure, a good quality for a Phallicus. He seemed to continually find joy in finding new positions to ‘breed’ Namor in. Not once did he allow Namor to set the pace. He would simply push or pull Namor into a new position and begin pounding away.

It came to be that Namor was on his back, holding his own legs up under his knees, as Dardanio knelt between them and plowed into him. Namor took everything the petty man had to give with his jaw clenched, but his arousal continued unabated, leaking copious amounts of his own salt over them both as his thick hardness bounced between their firm stomachs. In a new fit of sadism, Dardanio reached down and seized Namor’s balls, twisting them painfully, eliciting an actual roar of pain from Namor.

In an instant, there was a lightning crack of a whip, and Dardanio cried out. Namor did not see what had happened, only a fresh red welt rising on his shoulder. Obviously the rules about sadism still applied, even for recruits.

After the whip, Dardanio bowed his head, allowing his dark hair to fall in front of his face, and something shifted in him. Namor could feel it. His thrusts actually began to feel pleasurable, and Namor felt a twinge of pleasure flush through him watching the man’s muscular form plowing into him.

A few minutes later, Dardanio came, shooting a large wet load of cum into Namor’s ass. As Dardanio slowly withdrew his still-hard shaft, Namor felt the warmth that he left behind him, a small amount dribbling from his well-fucked hole.

Dardanio returned sheepishly to his position, and stood, his salt still dripping from his shaft. The voice returned once again.

“The Phallicus must be able to serve many clients in a single session. The third test of the Phallicus is stamina. Relinquish restraint and prove your virility.”

Namor needed no further instruction. He was finally in his element.

The tattooed man was the next to step forward. Namor playfully grabbed his shoulders and tossed him forward onto the bed. Taking hold of the man’s hips, Namor immediately thrust his tongue into the man’s hole, rimming him with all the intensity he could muster.

The tattooed man groaned immediately, and Namor wetted two fingers to stretch his hole in prepraration. Thrusting his fingers into the man, he found a capable and experienced partner.

Taking hold of himself, he lightly slapped the man’s ass. “You ready for this?”

The man grinned back at him. “I’ve been ready since you walked through the door.”

Consent acknowledged, Namor began to enter the tattooed man. He took his time, but even so the man was squirming underneath him. Eventually, they shifted around so that Namor was laying down, and the tattooed man was lowering himself down onto Namor’s immense heat.

Shuddering bliss consumed the Phallicus, before he began to roll his hips back and forward, riding Namor’s hips for the ultimate deep experience. Namor ran his hands lightly over the man’s athletic form, caressing and guiding him into the perfect positions.

The man reached down, frenetically jerking himself off as he bounced up and down on Namor’s enhanced veiny thickness. Namor adored watching his cock disappear inside this man’s ass, and watching him squirm and moan softly. Soon, the tattooed man was shooting his salt across Namor’s muscular chest. With a sigh of relief, Namor took hold of the man’s hips and pistoned upward rapidly for a few minutes before he slammed his magnificent enhanced manhood as deep as it would go and shot his seed deep into the man’s body. So deep, Namor wondered if it would ever escape.

With a satisfied grunt, the tattooed man gingerly dismounted, Namor’s cock escaping with a slurping pop, and the fourth man, a brown haired muscular stud came over and sucked Namor’s shaft right into his mouth. Surprised but pleased, Namor allowed the man to take his pleasure, as Namor instinctively teased his own nipples. Soon he was hard as stone again inside the fourth man’s throat.

Namor smiled to himself, thankful that his genetic heritage was paying off. Men of the Blood were blessed not only with attractiveness and physical prowess, but also sexual fertility and power. They could recover almost immediately from an orgasm and usually ejaculated three times the salt of a normal man.

He allowed himself to relax, his body thrumming with pleasure as the fourth man salivated and gobbled on him. The man backed off slightly, holding just the head of Namor’s manhood in his mouth as he stroked him intensely. Sensing his own body responding, Namor let the orgasm wash through him, firing shot after shot into the man’s waiting hungry mouth.

The fourth man returned to his position, Namor’s salt covering his lips and chin. Then the four men turned and vanished into the golden fabrics. Namor lay back and stroked himself lightly, his pulse quickening yet again. A familiar figure appeared from the shadows. It was Olmir. Namor realized that it had been his voice delivering the instructions. He hoped he had performed well, but Olmir’s face gave no sign.

“The test of stamina will continue until you are spent or call for stop.”

Four more men in red entered and shed their robes. Namor grinned – this was the kind of test he could excel at.

Several hours later…

Namor, Adrianus, and Pindaro had been returned to their shared room. The others looked exhausted. Namor himself was tired from a long day of athleticism in the bedroom.

“How do you think you did?” he asked Adrianus, who shrugged. “I got through the starting group and two more men before I just had to stop. What about you?”

Pindaro spoke, a rare moment for one typically silent. “The Thracian need fear nothing. I saw the parade of Phallicus men entering and leaving your room. Half the stable will be walking funny for the next day or two. What does a Bloodline need to fear from a stamina test? Come to think of it…”

He moved closer, his eyes measuring Namor with a cold stare. “What is a Bloodline doing working as a Phallicus?”

Adrianus laughed. “You said it yourself he’s perfect for it. He’s more attractive, he’s more fit, he’s got stamina for days and his cock is a monster. Who better?”

Namor never took his eyes off Pindaro. “My reasons are my own.”

Adrianus looked between them, a nervous smile still on his face. “Come on, guys.”

Adrianus and Namor turned away, but Namor heard it when Pindaro quietly muttered, “For now.”

Olmir entered the room, standing tall and smiling broadly. “You have all done me proud. You have passed your tests, and I hereby officially initiate you into the Brotherhood of Phallicus Sura.”

He drew out several wooden lacquered cases, inside of which were large gold bands. “You will now wear these on one thigh to denote your rank. And, a gift from Marcus, Thracian…”

Olmir reached down and slid a large gold ring onto Namor’s cock. It settled right at the base, snug but not uncomfortable. Namor also slipped on the thigh band and admired his new additions.

“Congratulations, men. You’ve earned it. And not a moment too soon, because the Primus ceremony is just about to start. We’ve got to hurry.”

Pindaro looked up sharply. “The Primus ceremony?”

“Where they will choose the Prime Offering, the man who will entertain the Prince.” Olmir replied. Adrianus and Namor shared a look.

All four of them hurried to the mess hall, which had been cleared of tables. All throughout the space, men in red robes and gold bands stood at attention, their hands clasped behind their backs, their full bodies presented towards one wall. Namor, Adrianus, and Pindaro slipped into the ranks, while Olmir walked down the lines, correcting posture or position here and there, fluffing or squeezing cocks as he passed.

Dominus Sura entered the room, and Olmir gave a shout of “Attention!” The hall fell into utter silence, as the Dominus paced the ranks. Namor couldn’t tell what he was searching for. Sometimes he would run a hand over a man’s chest, sometimes his lips, sometimes he would fondle their manhoods or squeeze their buttocks. Once or twice he sniffed and licked them. But the Phallicus brothers never moved or reacted.

When he came to them, he teased Pindaro’s nipple slightly, before gliding along and squeezing Adrianus’ balls. Adrianus kept his chin high and puffed his chest as he took a deep breath. But Sura soon moved on to Namor, where he grasped his cock by the head and rubbed it between his fingers until a single bead of salt emerged. Taking the sticky bead onto one fingertip, the Dominus tasted Namor’s salt slowly, seeming to relish the flavor, before he moved on to the next man in the rank.

After an almost interminable amount of time, the Dominus returned to the front of the room and stood on a stool. “As you all know, the Prince Primus has scheduled a visit to our house. It is likely that many of you will serve him while he is here, but there must be one who is chosen to represent our Brotherhood to his majesty.”

Sura took a long pause. Namor realized he was holding his breath. Beside him, Adrianus reached out and took his hand. Namor was surprised, but found himself gripping Adrianus’s hand tightly.

Sura turned to the right, enunciating, “Dardanio!”

A cheer went up from part of the robed crowd as Dardanio made his way to the front of the room, shaking Sura’s hand. Namor’s heart sank, and he was surprised that he had wanted to be chosen so fervently. It was only a week or so since he had come to the Pleasurehouse, but already thoughts of the outside world seemed far away. Still, though, to lie with a Prince would have been a fantastic dream.

Namor realized Adrianus was shaking him, pushing him forward. “What?”

Adrianus hissed back through clenched teeth. “He just called you too, you fool, go!”

Namor snapped out of his reverie as he realized every man in the room was staring at him. They parted ahead of him, clearing a path to the Dominus. Namor began walking forward, first with shaky steps, then he settled into a regular stride. Whispers of “Thracian” began to ripple through the room, rising into a full voiced chant:

“Thracian! Thracian! Thracian! Thracian!”

Namor was patted on the back, as well as slapped on the ass, as he walked forward. His Brothers were cheering for him. He found himself in front of Sura, shaking his hand, and seeing Dardanio’s sour face beside him. But even Dardanio’s anger could not touch Namor now because in this moment – he was utterly happy.

The Dominus clapped twice and the buzz died down. “A Prince is worth two champions, and two champions of masculinity he shall have. Come! We prepare this House for a mighty festival!”

To be continued...



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