Chapter 6 – The Fountain

Olmir held the red curtain open as Namor entered his new room. It was larger than the shared bunk he had been sleeping in, not huge like the pleasure rooms upstairs, but more than enough for his needs. There was no door in the frame, only the red curtain. But the Phallicus was not a life of privacy.

“There’s space enough.” Olmir agreed, seeing Namor’s expression. “As you begin to take clients and patrons, most of your earnings will go towards the house, but a certain sum is always set aside for your own discretionary spending. Some Phallicus buy clothes, food, or partake in our own services. I prefer collecting books.”

“I think I should like that.” Namor smiled. Olmir continued, “The baths and facilities are just a few doors down the hall. You’re now officially living in what the House calls its ‘Stable’. It’s certainly where we keep the stallions.” He grinned infectiously. Namor felt a rising twitch from his cock, but there was no point in concealing it – his open cloth robe certainly did nothing to hide his body, and surely the Master of Phallicus was used to this effect. Nevertheless, Namor could have sworn he saw the man lick his lips softly before proceeding, “While you’re in the Stable, dress is naturally optional. Any questions?”

Namor’s eyes roved around the space, taking in the large bed against one wall, an open nook in the wall that served as a wardrobe, a low table and chair, and shelves for his future possessions. There was also a small cot on the floor near the door. “What’s that?”

“Now that you’re an initiated Phallicus, you will be assigned a bodyman to see to any needs you might have, to groom you before appointments, and keep your schedule. He should be arriving shortly. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” Olmir smiled, backing gracefully through the doorway.

Namor looked around the room once more, his room. A nagging doubt floated into his thoughts – how long would it be his room? Would he be here long enough to fill the shelves with books like Olmir, or would he stay hidden until the time was right, and then vanish without a trace?

A stirring at the curtain stilled his thoughts, as another man entered cautiously. Youth stood in his posture, his energy – a buck in his prime, maybe twenty or twenty-two. While slimmer at the shoulders than Namor, his gold robes did little to conceal his muscle tone. Sandy blonde hair sprung from his head, and dusted his chest.

The newcomer spoke with a low, soft voice. “I am Lyre, my lord.”

Namor nodded in greeting. “No need to call me lord. I’m Namor.”

The younger man shifted, uncertain. “Am I not to be your bodyman?”

“It would seem so.” Namor smirked. “You seem nervous.”

Lyre blushed and looked up at the ceiling, stammering, “Th-th-the others, my lord, they told me you were Thracian, and I…I’ve never been assigned a Phallicus before, sir.”

Namor approached him slowly, bending down slightly to look him in the eyes. “You can see the truth of it, lad. I have the violet eyes.”

Lyre seemed shaken. “The stories of the Blood…the things I’ve heard…”

“Sit down, Lyre.” Namor suggested. The younger man sat uneasily in a chair by the table. Namor paced towards the curtain idly. “I’m guessing by your behavior that you’ve heard a great deal about the Blood, and don’t know what to believe. I’ll edify you this once, but know that despite my current circumstances I am no zoo animal to be ogled, poked, or prodded. My reasons for being here are my own. Am I understood?”

Lyre nodded quickly, and Namor continued, “All of the Bloodlines are different. Remnants of different genetic tampering from the Wars of Colonization. But after the Wars, there was little need of us. Most were destroyed. Each line has different characteristic traits, but not all of these are visible to the eye. The only one that is constant is eye color. Thracians, for example, all have violet eyes.”

“And massive cocks?” Lyre added, grinning. Namor chuckled, “Thracians were an early line, designed to build new settlements, and then populate them. I am stronger than most men, can go longer without food or drink, am less vulnerable to heat and cold, and yes, my fertility and stamina are well above the normal. My large endowment, though, that is the result of nothing but good fortune.”

Lyre’s eyes roved over Namor’s body freely, drinking him in. “I don’t know whether to be impressed by yours, or saddened that there aren’t many others like it. If Thracians are so fertile, why aren’t they everywhere nowadays?”

Namor bowed his head. “Population control. Once the Great Colonization had finished, it was imperative that we didn’t repeat the mistakes of Earth. Most Thracians were sterilized to prevent the uncontrollable spread of population. Our Bloodline now grows very thin.”

“What about other lines? And the Royal Family?” Lyre prompted.

“Each line is bred for a different purpose.” Namor shrugged. “Some for warfare, some for stealth. The Royal line is the last in the attempt to combine the greatest traits of each individual line, which is why they are best fit to rule. They are stronger and smarter in every way, and some even talk of supernatural abilities, although no one will confirm it. I reckon you’re hoping to see the Prince when he comes?”

Lyre nodded, so Namor put a hand on his shoulder. “Take care then, because they are some of the most dangerous men in the ‘Verse. I will do my part to please him, but aside from that I only wish to stay out of his way. With him will be his bodyman and any Vesper guards he brings in his retinue. They will all be Blood, likely red eyes.”

Lyre shivered. “Red eyes?”

Namor nodded, whispering, “Cerberus line. The most efficient, ruthless killers ever designed. If you see one, do not look him in the eye, and do not approach him. Better to just walk away…but enough of this heavy talk, I do not mean to scare you.”

Lyre shrugged, smiling, “No, thank you for telling me about it. In terms of schedule you should visit the baths, as well as Marcus the designer to prepare for the Prince’s arrival presentation. Would it please you to fuck me now, or later?”

Namor looked at him, startled. Lyre was slipping off his golden robe, standing naked before him. He felt a stirring in himself – the man was quite fair to behold. Namor stepped toward him slowly, and Lyre reached out gently, cautiously taking hold of Namor’s thick member. The touch of his hand sent heat and heady throbbing pulses directly to Namor’s shaft. He growled softly.

“Lyre, you are a beautiful man, and I look forward to joining myself with you, but it will not be here, now, like this.” Namor muttered through clenched teeth. It was taking all of his will power to resist tossing Lyre down on the cot and thrusting deeply into him. “We have just met for the first time, and I would like to get to know more about you before we make love.”

Lyre gave Namor’s cock a tantalizing squeeze, stroking it slowly to full erection. “Are you sure, my lord?”

Namor grimaced. Lyre’s hand was driving him wild. Red started to creep into his vision, a sure sign of mindless lust to come. “Yes. When we make love, and believe me, Lyre, we will, I want it to come from our mutual trust and understanding of one another, rather than testing our five minute bond of Phallicus and bodyman. That’s why I’d rather you not call me ‘lord’, I don’t like feeling above you.”

Lyre let go, nodding. “I understand, my…Namor. Well, then let’s get you to the baths. Ooh, let me get that.”

And he knelt, licking from the base of Namor’s cock all the way to the weighty head, collecting the long sticky rope of pre-cum that Namor had begun to dribble. Then, smacking his lips, he rose, wiping his chin as if nothing had happened. “The baths are this way.”

Namor shed his own red robe and followed Lyre to the baths, struggling to suppress his sexual fervor for the man.

After an extensive cleansing process during which Lyre fully massaged and oiled Namor’s body, the golden-robed attendants ushered Namor to Marcus’ design room, where Dardanio stood waiting.

“Well it’s about time, Thracian, I was beginning to wonder if you’d backed out and run away.”

Namor ignored the dark-haired Phallicus’ foul temper. “Where is Marcus?”

“He’ll be along shortly, said something about preparations for the Entrance Hall. I saw you got a new boy. Got tired of Adrianus, eh? How long was it before you had your new one bent over and-”

Dardanio didn’t get to finish the sentence because Namor had a tight grip on his throat. Namor lifted him from the ground easily. Dardanio’s eyes bulged and he began holding on to Namor’s wrist desperately.

Namor spoke very quietly, “Stop speaking for once and listen to me you arrogant codpiece. I did not choose to be here, I care nothing for your Prime Offering spot, nor the Prince, nor any of this world. I am here because I am being hunted, and I can conceal myself for a time here, so if that means being chosen by Sura and pleasing men with my body, fine. The only man I ever cared about pleasing has been captured and taken from me, so until I am strong enough to find him and free him from those that have him, I’m stuck here with you. Now you can be a childish, cruel asshole, or…or…you can stay out of my face so that I can leave sooner, and you’ll be the choice stallion again, and everyone will get what they want. Do you understand me?”

Dardanio did the best he could to nod. Namor lowered him back to the ground and released him, and he began coughing to clear his airway.

“If you are cruel to Lyre, or to Adrianus, or anyone from here on, trust that I will know of it. I am of the Blood. Now quit complaining and pull yourself together, we’ve been chosen to fuck a prince.”

Dardanio hadn’t fully recovered when Marcus returned, but the three of them began their preparations.

Outside, Sura and his bodyman Caton were among the greeting party at the flight pad. Sura remained calm and composed, but Caton raised an eyebrow as two transports landed simultaneously on opposite sides of the pad. From one emerged two Vespers, the Blood bodyguards of the Royal family. Behind the Vespers came a brown-haired man in green and a taller man with blue hair who wore a silver tunic. These would be the bodyman and Prince Viro Proteus Primus, heir to the throne of the Empire.

From the opposite ship came two large men, and a slighter, smaller third, who Sura recognized to be female. Caton muttered quietly, “Dominus, I do not recognize her from the client registry.”

“That’s because she’s not a client.” Sura whispered. He examined her clothing closely, and the way that she walked. Then he let out a sharp intake of breath as he recognized them. Sura could feel Caton’s curiosity digging into him, but they were too close now to risk speaking it aloud.

“Your Royal Highness, we are humbled by your visit here today.” Sura opened.

The Prince nodded once, and his bodyman stepped forward, whom Sura recognized instantly. “Galen!”

“Vel, you dog, how have you been? How’s business?” Galen laughed.

“Booming.” Sura smiled. “And may I introduce an unexpected guest, my lady--?”

“Vashura, of the Galactic Health Organization. My associates and I are here to perform a surprise inspection of your facility to ensure that it and your workers are up to code.” she said, stepping forward and handing a slip of paper to Sura, who passed it to Caton smoothly and smiled.

“Not to worry, we pride ourselves on treating our workers with the utmost care. If you will come into the main hall…”

The Dominus led both parties into the main entrance hall, a large two-story room with an open square at the center and columns supporting the second floor balcony. The walls and ceiling were predominantly red, trimmed in gold, the floor a shimmering black marble. In the center of the room stood a large fountain, which was broad and flat, but had jets of a metallic golden fluid burbling cheerfully. Atop the fountain stood two men, mostly nude, their bodies also painted metallic gold. They were locked in a grapple with each other, one holding a sword, and the other a spear, and one could almost believe that they were statues were they not breathing and their prodigious muscles straining against one another. Each wore a golden helmet, plumed with red feathers. The golden jets continued to pour liquid onto them, which flowed smoothly down their magnificent physiques. A scent was coming from somewhere, an incense table perhaps, but its location could not be directly seen – it smelled of a spiced musk which stirred something inside each of the visitors.

“What a beautiful display.” Proteus commented, speaking aloud for the first time. “A feast for the senses. Are they-?”

“Always grappling? No, my lord, we change the statue’s subject frequently, to surprise our repeat visitors. Today two of our finest Phallicus re-create the titanic battle of Achilles and Hector.”

Proteus stepped closer, almost at the edge of the fountain, and Lady Vashura spoke admiringly, “They are certainly fit representations for the heroes. Their bodies show they are true warriors.”

“But perhaps a tad tragic.” Proteus added. “To see those heroes, those demigods, doomed to fight and die. Death and combat is glorious, but not the warmest greeting for a house of pleasure.”

Sura hurried forward, “That’s part of the beauty of the statue, my lord, it may change to fit the viewer’s pleasure. If you so desire, give direction, and they shall adjust.”

Lady Vashura nodded, “A customized artwork, for each client. Ingenious.”

Proteus paced around the statue, looking at it from all angles, from quite close to farther back against the wall, before he spoke. “I would not have a scene of war. Discard your weapons, doff your helmets.”

Serving men in gold robes came and the two men in the fountain carefully handed down the props to them. They vanished as quickly and quietly as they had appeared. The jets continued to pour golden fluid over their naked bodies.

“I would have a scene of peace. Of love.” Proteus smirked. “Show me a scene where these great heroic men make peace between their warring states – by making love.”

The two golden men looked at each other, uncertain. Sura nodded quickly, and one of them spoke, “Who would you have the top, my lord?”

Proteus thought briefly, before saying, “Achilles was the original victor as the story goes, let him be the actor, and Hector the receptor. Show me love.”

Namor looked at Dardanio, trying to judge what he would do. Namor was Achilles, and that meant Dardanio as Hector would be the one being fucked. Namor knew that Dardanio was typically hired as a top, but as he looked into his eyes, Namor felt a sudden assurance that Dardanio was willing to do anything the Prince asked in order to please him and honor the House.

So Namor shrugged before pulling him into a deep kiss. The golden fluid, which was in fact, lube, continued to pour over them as Dardanio put his arms over Namor’s shoulders. Sensing what he was going for, Namor picked Dardanio up, who wrapped his legs around his waist, their engorged manhoods pressed between them.

They continued to kiss deeply as Namor slowly lowered Dardanio to the ground, still maintaining his position between Dardanio’s golden legs. The base was a two inches deep, so Dardanio sank slightly into a shallow pool of golden lube. Namor ran his hands over Dardanio’s torso, massaging his muscles and causing each well-developed ripple to gleam gold under the lights. The gold and the lights helped emphasize each bulge and curve of their athletic bodies, and Namor knew the muscles of his back and ass were looking their best.

As Namor took hold of himself in preparation, he felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him. There was something strangely exciting about performing this act with an admittedly gorgeous man in front of so many other people. His massive heat thrummed golden with the sexual power of a god, and he placed himself at Dardanio’s entrance, breaking the kiss to seek his eyes for approval.

Dardanio nodded, causing ripples to spill out from his head, and Namor slid his thick manhood inside the smaller man. Good Gods, he was tight, his body squeezing Namor’s veiny hardness so well, Namor started to see red. He slid his entire length into his Hector. Dardanio’s back arched slightly out of the lube as Namor penetrated him fully, filling him to the brink with pulsing masculinity.

Namor lost track of what was happening and time seemed to slow down as he began to work inside of Dardanio, withdrawing and returning, his senses extended to his entire body as he performed. Their sex wasn’t wild rutting, it was slow, sensuous, and enticing to the eye as the two men’s bodies slid against and into one another in the fountain.

Nobody in the room moved except for the two golden titans, Namor’s throbbing manhood slipping achingly into Dardanio and then bucking back with his powerful hips. All were entranced as Namor lowered himself and once more locked lips with the partially-submerged golden Hector.

At some point, close to the end, Namor realized that the jets of lube had been turned off. Now no motion could distract the eye from the love-making of the two men. Namor reared back onto his heels, drawing Dardanio’s legs about him tight and making many quick small movements within him.

Dardanio, at the brink of pleasure, came, his seed shooting into the air in a powerful arc, an organic jet of pure salty cum, followed by many more loads which laced across the two of them. As he was cumming, he roared, a warrior’s howl of release which echoed in the large room.

The visitors were completely still, entranced by the show. Proteus launched forward and muttered quietly to Namor, “That was beautiful but they want more, they want to see Achilles triumphant. Come for me, pull out of Hector and release your dominant seed upon him. Come for me.”

Obediently, Namor gently pulled out of Dardanio’s used ass. Dardanio lay in the fountain, still panting from his orgasm. Namor was still between his legs, and he leaned up onto his knees, both hands descending to his drooling powerful shaft. It didn’t take long – combined with the ecstasy of fucking Dardanio, and the feel of the lube on his manhood, Namor heard the Prince whisper again…

“Come for me.”

And he did – with another victorious roar, Namor’s cum blasted forth, gobs and ropes drizzling haphazardly across Dardanio’s prone body, with no end in sight. His muscular body contracting as he howled his pleasure to all the witnesses. Namor felt it might have been the most he’d ever shot. He finally came back to his awareness, breathing heavily kneeling over Dardanio.

Sura broke the silence first, “The first of many pleasures that await you within my House. This was well done, my lord.”

Proteus never broke eye contact with Namor when he replied, “Well done indeed. I will see both these men again before I leave?”

“They are your Prime Offering.” Sura announced smugly. “They are entirely at your disposal to use as you wish during your stay. Now, Lady Vashura, I will conduct your inspection through the House while Caton attends to the Prince’s needs.”

“Very well.” the Lady replied. “Lead on.”

“Yes, lead on!” Proteus agreed.

To be continued…



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