To Redeem His People

Catharsis

Shahin sat on the floor cushions near his Lord, Prince Jehanadir. The boy wore only his gold arm and wrist bands and a red silk sash covering his loins. He had tied his long, wheat-coloured hair with a leather thong, except for the three beaded braids that hung loose. Jehanadir wore a simple deep blue robe, tied with a braided leather crimson cord. It complemented his deep red hair, violet eyes, and the faint blue tinge of his skin. They waited silently for the Bard, Brynnan, to arrive.

The chiming of silver bells at the chamber entrance announced a visitor. Jehanadir closed his eyes and sensed the Bard.

“Come, Brynnan,” he called.

The Bard entered, carrying his harp in its case. He was dressed in a simple black robe styled like the Prince’s. He bowed.

“My Prince, I am here to conduct this working with you. Are you both prepared?”

“Physically, yes. Mentally, I admit to some trepidation, as I am sure that Shahin feels it, too.”

Brynnan seated himself at the Prince’s hand gesture. “Let me enlighten you. The most important consideration is that you both stay safe. If either of you feels overwhelmed at any time, say the word ‘falcon,’ and we will stop.

“We will have sexual congress together,” continued Brynnan. “I will play the passive role only. I will not fuck either of you, only receive it – but you may command me to suck cock. The aim of these coming actions is catharsis. You were both sexual victims of your uncle, Demir. Do not be afraid to say his name! In your minds, I will take on the seeming of this man, and you may fuck or sexually use me as you wish. I want you both to face what was done to you and to take back your power.”

Jehanadir frowned in concern. “What if I harm you?” he asked.

“I admit there is some risk in our play, and I trust you have no needle hidden in your hair to kill me with or to blind me as he blinded you. No, I am serious! It boded ill for your uncle. But I am not he: I am merely a focal point for your emotions. We are not here to totally unleash the beast within, but you must face your inner self; tame your beast. What do you wish you had done or said? I want you both to be in control, to feel in control.” Brynnan paused and looked at the Prince, inviting a reply.

“I think I understand. We try to take away the power of our memories to harm us by reliving these emotions. It is true: every time my mind is triggered, and memory of those evil events surface, I immediately shut the thought down.”

“But this time, you both will relive them, not as victims, but as the ones in control,” explained Brynnan. “Shahin, how do you feel?”

Shahin instinctively glanced at Jehanadir as if seeking permission. Jehanadir nodded his head, and the boy spoke. “I admit I am afraid. But I am more afraid of having the memories of my rape and . . . seduction affect me for the rest of my life.”

Jehanadir asked, “Do we two act together or apart?”

“I suggest you recreate the initial tryst you arranged with Demir, when he first took you sexually, Prince, and forced you to assist in his assault of Shahin. But this time, no need to act submissive. Now the tables are turned,” said Brynnan. “When you both are ready, let us begin. Remember, call me by the name ‘Demir.’ Let your mind replace me with him.”

Jehanadir nodded and stood. “Come to the bed, Demir,” he commanded.

Brynnan followed them into the adjoining sleeping chamber, where the large, low bed lay. He followed Jehanadir’s command to remove his robe. The Prince and Shahin undressed, and Jehanadir sat back on the bed, pulling Shahin down with him.

“Now, Uncle, you will suck our cocks until they are hard. Keep your eyes lowered, you bastard! I don’t want to see them. Now, crawl to us and begin.”

Brynnan obediently crawled to the bed, head bent. He thought privately that it was a promising start. Jehanadir did not seem the least bit hesitant. He, therefore, approached the Prince first.

“Touch us gently; when we respond, start sucking.”

Brynnan ran his hands over Jehanadir’s loins and then Shahin’s. He stroked their cocks until they started to stiffen. He took the Prince’s cock in his mouth, sucking for a while before moving his head to Shahin’s loins; but hesitated there. Shahin seized his hair and pushed him down on his cock. Brynnan sucked.

When both cocks were hard, Jehanadir made him stop. “Demir, on the bed. On all fours like the beast that you are.”

When Brynnan had complied, he became aware that Shahin began to mount him.

“I will be as gentle to you as you were to me,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

Brynnan grunted in pain as the boy’s cock was unceremoniously rammed inside him. Immediately, the lad started to fuck him. He made a few slow thrusts, then Brynnan felt lubricant poured on his ass.

“But I will show you more mercy than you showed me, you pig!” Shahin said.

As the boy began to thrust hard, Brynnan was surprised and glad that the boy had thought to use the lubricant. He had been told that the boy’s initial rape had been brutal. Brynnan submitted. However, Shahin began to strike his ass, hard, with his hand. Then he paused, and when he resumed, Brynnan felt the lash of Jehanadir’s braided leather belt on his back. The boy continued fucking him, even as Brynnan was lashed, but the Bard discerned restrained sobs in Shahin’s voice. Then the boy ceased whipping him and pulled his cock out. He began to stroke it with rapid fury.

“Take my cum over you, as you did to me, Demir, my Lord, bastard prick,” sobbed Shahin as he ejaculated over Brynnan’s reddened ass. He reeled back into Jehanadir’s arms.

Then Brynnan heard the Prince command, “Don’t move, Demir. Maintain that position, for I will fuck you now, and I won’t be gentle like my golden boy.”

Brynnan felt Jehanadir’s cock in his ass, shoved in brutally and transitioning to fucking straight away. The Prince rammed his cock in and out of his ‘uncle’s’ ass, cursing at him and threatening him.

“So you thought you could hurt us. You told us we would learn to enjoy pain. Well, I don’t, and tomorrow I will take you to the woods and . . .” but he didn’t say the fateful words, and Brynnan truly felt as if his life had just been spared. He gritted his teeth as Jehanadir came inside his ass and braced himself for more abuse. But instead, Jehanadir flung himself over the Bard and embraced him. He wept. “You fucker, you fucker . . . Brynnan, forgive me. Forgive us.” He rolled on his side, holding the Bard.

“It is you who must forgive, Jehanadir,” said Brynnan. “Let it all go. He cannot hurt you now. See him as a flawed human being. He is not worth your anger and continuing pain. Forgive him and let him go.”

Then he felt Shahin’s arms around him. “I’ll forgive the bastard, I mean Demir. I’m tired of hurting. I will let him go to whatever fate received him.” Then the boy paused and said, “Are you alright, Brynnan? Did we hurt you?”

Brynnan replied, “I am not hurt. Let me catch my breath a little. Do you need to do more?”

“Not I,” replied the Prince. “You are right, and so is your Father, King Arawn. ‘Give with an open hand, and your heart will open,’ he said to me. I will give, and forgive.”

When Brynnan eventually got up, his ass and back felt sore, but he did not mention it.

“Let us bathe together, then, and I will have Mavrenn soothe your souls,” Brynnan told them.

So the three of them stood in the large bathing room while the warm water from the overhead spray rinsed their bodies of cum, pain and weariness. Afterwards, they dressed again, and Brynnan brought his harp into the bedroom. He knelt on floor cushions, holding tall Mavrenn against his shoulder and began to play.

He chose the healing songs. At first, wordless melodies and then chants sung in the Shadow style, music designed to bring clarity and peace. ‘Rest in me, let night enfold you; let the rains wash you and the wind be your cloak . . .’ he translated an ancient song. It seemed to work, for Brynnan could feel the storm clouds of anger and distress fade away to be replaced by the clean winds of forgiveness. He ended his music with two more melodies: one of them, Jehanadir’s theme that Brynnan had composed for him, and the last, a new song that brought to mind salmon leaping and splashing in a rippling river: a theme for Shahin. He left them sleeping then, and their expressions told of hope restored.

*    *    *

Later, he stripped to change into more practical clothing in the chamber he shared with Geraint and Nijal. Geraint saw the lash marks on his body and shook his head in exasperation.

“You’ve been at it again. What am I to do with you?”

But Nijal said, “Go easy, old Warrior. You know by now that our Bard is an empath; it is what makes him so good at navigating the Shadow ways. You need to be aware of every nuanced event to survive there.”

“Speaking of which, please go easy on me tonight, dear friends,” said Brynnan. “My ass is definitely ‘nuanced,’ and I would rather forego any penetration.”

Nijal asked him, “Do you think your intervention with the Prince and Shahin was successful?”

“I will not speak of details, but I believe so. Prince Jehanadir will be of a much clearer mind when he has to deal face-to-face with any of the Invaders who may arrive here. Despite his trials, or maybe because of them, he is a young man of great fortitude. I have hopes for him, and besides, Kambiz, the Seneschal, is an effective advisor and will look out for Jehanadir. I think we have done as well as we can here, and we can travel tomorrow with a clear mind.”

*    *    *

In the afternoon, the three friends rode with Bertholf, who was returning to his people, the Men of the Boar, quartered at the local garrison outside the Citadel gates. Arne, the leader, and his friend, Grœnn, greeted them. They took a horn of ale together inside the mess hall.

“We will miss you, Geraint, but I won’t miss our dice games. You have won too much of the ransom we got for the Diviner!” Arne laughed. “But come, you won an unspecified wager off our Rune-Master several days ago. What did he forfeit?”

“This!” replied Geraint, and he stripped open his leather coat and shirt to reveal his broad, furry chest. Part of the hair, over the left breast, had been shaved, and a black-work tattoo of the staves for ‘battle strength’ showed, handsomely done. His left shoulder sported a bear paw print with claws seemingly raking the flesh.

“It is already activated by the blood from the tattooing session. I don’t need ‘bravery in battle’: I am foolhardy enough, but at my age, ‘strength’ will help me.”

Arne was impressed. “Many of us try to bribe Bertholf for his battle-runes and staves, but they are as hard to get as a Virgin Goddess! May these marks increase your fighting spirit.”

Geraint did not explain to Arne that it was more than a simple wager won. Indeed, it was a pledge of the affection and friendship they had found for one another.

“Speaking of which, Arne, have you and your men decided on the Prince’s offer?”

Jehanadir had asked them to stay on for the summer and patrol the borders against any Star Invaders.

“Yes, he replied. “We will stay. The pay is fair, and it will keep us gainfully occupied until the Autumn when, if peace is gained, we will return to our own land.”

Bertholf raised an eyebrow at Geraint and Nijal. “The Prince isn’t a fool. He makes me stand surety for our men’s good behaviour, and I have sworn on the truth rune.”

“I will make sure there is no pillaging or dishonourable behaviour,” Arne growled. “Unless these Invaders have riches worth acquiring . . .”

“Be careful in that regard!” admonished Nijal. “The Invaders will have weapons that kill dishonourably at a distance, and such weapons will not be taken. A ban of destruction is on them all.”

Bertholf spoke up, “Arne and I have already discussed this issue and how to confront these men. Unfortunately, you are right that a direct confrontation will put us at a disadvantage. I will do workings to protect our men’s minds, and we will ‘divide and conquer,’ as it were.”

“We wish you luck,” said Nijal.

They said their farewells to the men, with Geraint closely embracing the Rune-Master.

“We will remember the Bear and the Wolf,” Grœnn addressed Geraint. “May you live to join us one day for a good fight against an enemy. You are cunning enough in our practice fights. I wish I could see you and Bertholf in full battle-rage!”

*    *    *

They spent the remainder of the day talking with the Prince and Kambiz, the Seneschal. Brynnan brought up an essential consideration to Jehanadir.

“My Prince, our two minds were closely linked, both in the Shadow Realm and in the Rite of Divination. I believe you will find that we can call each other mind-to-mind now. Thus, you will advise us when the Invaders come, as I will do for you. And I am sure my Lord Samir and the rest of his Council will want to send you offers of an alliance.”

“Yes. We would welcome that, would we not, Kambiz?” the Prince said, turning to his Seneschal.

“Indeed, my Prince. It greatly worried me when you told me these Invaders can influence minds. We shall be aware.”

“And Brynnan, we will test our mind-link later.” The Prince looked pensive. “It is exceeding strange, yet comforting to me that I shall not have to be alone in my mind and my understanding of the land again. I would invite you to attend us next Spring if you can. I also would thank you for . . . other things.”

*    *    *

In the late evening, Nijal was in their chamber with Brynnan and Geraint when he sensed a presence at the door.

“It is Dronnadh!” said Nijal, smiling.

When the Diviner entered, he and Nijal embraced. “I think you know what I want, Nijal, my brother,” Dronnadh said with a crooked grin on his face.

Nijal laughed. “I would not leave without coupling with you one more time!”

Geraint said, “Brynnan and I can leave to give you time alone together. Besides, our Bard’s fighting . . . I mean, ‘fucking’ spirit has been depleted this day.”

Dronnadh held out an inviting hand. “No, I wouldn’t dream of sending you away. You are welcome to join in however you desire. I am bathed and cleaned and ready.”

Nijal said, “So are we. It is a nightly procedure, as one of us is always in the mood.” He laughed. “Come, brother, let us share a cup of Narib’s excellent wine before we join our bodies.”

So the four men relaxed for a while, keeping their talk inconsequential.

Geraint said, “We shall have to try to spare the horses a little. My mare, Shade, is pregnant and is finally showing an increase in her belly. I expect a fine foal. The Wanderers we met had a splendid stallion of their special breed, large and strong. The foal could be trained to be an exceptional war-horse. I will ask Nijal to assist in the mare’s delivery.”

“It will be a few moons yet, but of course, I shall endeavour to be there,” answered Nijal.

They engaged in horse talk for a while until their wine was finished.

“Now, who shall play ‘stallion,’” asked Dronnadh.

“I think I will,” Nijal replied.

The two Guardians stripped their clothes, and Geraint and Brynnan followed suit. However, they two lay on the other bed.

“I will play with our Bard here, and we will watch you two fuck.” Geraint said. He reached down and started to fondle Brynnan’s cock.

As he did so, Nijal and Dronnadh took to the other bed. They turned so that each other’s cock was positioned to be mutually sucked. Dronnadh kissed and stroked Nijal’s rising erection, then took the cock in his mouth. He sucked, gently at first, then with increasing tempo.

Watching them, Geraint’s own thick cock responded, and he slowly stroked it, alternating between Brynnan’s cock and his own. Then he kissed the Bard hungrily.

Nijal drew away from Dronnadh and turned him on his side so that Dronnadh’s ass was pressed against his stiff prick. He took the lube and applied it to both himself and the Diviner. Putting his arm around his friend, he pushed his cock in Dronnadh’s ass. The Guardian raised his upper leg, exposing the ass-fucking to Geraint and Brynnan’s view.

Geraint groaned, “Yes. Do him like that. Put your cock in deep.”

Geraint also turned Brynnan on his side, but he did not penetrate his ass. Instead, he pushed his thick, hard cock between Brynnan’s thighs so that it rubbed against the Bard’s balls and perineum. He reached around Brynnan’s hips and grasped his cock again, stroking it in rhythm to his own thrusts.

They watched as Nijal began to fuck Dronnadh harder. The Diviner twisted his upper body so Nijal could kiss him. They sucked and tongued each other’s mouths. Brynnan was very turned on but resisted ejaculation: he needed to see more action. Nijal showed it to him as he began to pound his cock into Dronnadh’s willing ass.

“I want to watch you cum, Nijal,” Geraint breathed.

“I am cumming now. Take it, my Brother!” Nijal cried out as cum filled Dronnadh’s ass, and he collapsed backwards onto the bed.

“Not so fast!” said Geraint. “I want both of you to get over here and lean over the bed. I am incredibly aroused, and I want both your asses!”

“Now there’s our war-stallion,” Nijal laughed, even as he complied with Geraint’s command.

Both Guardians knelt over the bed, presenting their asses, while Geraint got up and made the Bard lie so that his cock was close to the two men. Dronnadh began to suck Brynnan, even as Geraint moved in behind the two men and poured lube on their asses and his own cock. He fingered them for a while, then pushed his big penis into Nijal.

“Keep sucking our Bard, Dronnadh, while I fuck Nijal. Then it will be your turn.”

He was as good as his word. He fucked hard until he was close to ejaculation. He reached down and began to rub Nijal’s cock, which grew hard once more. Then, before Geraint could cum, he switched his attentions to Dronnadh, pushing his dripping member into the Diviner’s ass.

“Nijal, suck Brynnan now,” he instructed.

The fucking and sucking continued until Brynnan cried out, “Aaah! I am cumming.”

His ejaculation was forceful and copious, and he shot his load so that drops even hit his face and stomach. The droplets lay scattered like white pearls, and the sight of them inspired Geraint into cumming as he pulled out and shot his load over Dronnadh's butt cheeks.

“Let us wash and rest awhile and maybe go again. I trust you are spending the night, Dronnadh?” said Nijal.

“I would not dream of leaving early!” Dronnadh responded.

As the three men drank more of the Narib wine, Brynnan rested by himself on the bed, feeling peaceful. He thought about the Prince and cast his mind there. He perceived a moment’s startled reaction, then Jehanadir allowed him in.

The Prince’s thoughts reached him: ‘This works, Brynnan, and I can shield, or I can open my mind, as you instructed me. Shahin and I are making love. Hold a moment, and I will let you feel how he is reflected in me.’

Brynnan got the sensations of Jehanadir and Shahin’s pleasure: excitement, cat-like contentment, and a feeling of playfulness.

‘We are free!’ was Jehanadir’s joyful thought.

Brynnan sent a pulse of affirmation and turned back to his three companions. The night lay ahead of them.

*    *    *