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Blood and Shadows

By Salome
Page 2 of 17

Tarrant was awakened by the brush of lips against his.

"Wake up, darling, and come with me. I have something to show you."

It was Servalan, dressed in the black gown she had worn on Virn. Tarrant realized that he himself was wearing nothing at all; but he did not feel any alarm or concern at his condition, even when Servalan took him by the hand and led him out of the small room where he had been lying and into a stone hallway. And that in itself was odd. From a small, isolated corner, one part of Tarrant's mind noted that he could not possibly be in a normal state if he was walking with perfect unconcern down what looked like a corridor in an ancient Earthly castle, stark naked and hand-in-hand with Servalan. <<Drunk, drugged, conditioned, or dreaming,>> he thought. But he kept walking, staring in fascination at the flickering torches that lined the corridor. Shocking waste of oxygen.

They came into another room, much larger than the first, and stopped inside the doorway. In the center of the room were two pillars, and splayed between them was the limp body of a naked man, bound at the wrists and ankles to rings set into the pillars. The prisoner's head hung down so that his face could hardly be seen, but there was something oddly familiar about the sturdy, well-proportioned body. The outflung arms and legs reminded Tarrant of a half-forgotten image he had once seen, somewhere, on a viewscreen: a human figure inscribed within a circle. Yet it was more than the dim memory of an ancient drawing that made that body seem familiar.

"Yes, dear," said Servalan, "it's Avon. Avon as you have never seen him before. Lovely, isn't he? And he is at your disposal."

Despite their long association, Tarrant had never seen Avon undressed. Without the heavy black garments, Avon's pale body seemed much smaller and terribly vulnerable. There was something incongruous and almost frightening about the sight of that sharp- tongued, self-sufficient man rendered so completely helpless, utterly unable to protect himself from any indignity that might be inflicted upon him. For a split second, Tarrant wondered uneasily whether Avon would ever forgive him for having seen him in such circumstances. But his present euphoric state of mind made it easy for Tarrant to dismiss all misgivings as soon as they arose.

"We've tied him in this position for two reasons," Servalan continued. "First, because it is flattering to him."

She was right. The spread-eagled pose showed off the muscle in Avon's arms and legs and minimized the slight softness of his waist. Tarrant had never really thought about the attractiveness of Avon's body before, but he was certainly thinking about it now.

"And second," said Servalan, smiling at Tarrant, "so that he will be completely open to you. Every part of his body is easily accessible, for any purpose that you wish." She smiled again. "Yes, that means exactly what you think."

Servalan strolled across the room and stood before her captive. In her usual high heels, she was almost as tall as the barefoot, spread-legged Avon. She reached out with one red-taloned hand, grasped him firmly by the jaw, and raised his face. He opened his eyes, blinked, and stared at her blankly. He seemed to have trouble focussing.

"Avon is very stubborn, you know. I'm afraid that in order to induce a properly-- receptive-- mood, we had to hurt him rather badly. He's in a great deal of pain now. But see how beautiful it makes him. His face goes all soft and pretty."

She released her grip on Avon's jaw and ran one finger across his lips. Avon twitched his head away from her touch. The corner of his mouth curled in what might have been either a very feeble sneer or a grimace of pain. Then, as if even that tiny movement had been too much effort, his eyes closed and his head dropped back to his chest.

"Sweet," said Servalan, patting him on the cheek. "He knows that we're here, but he is hurting too badly just now to care much what happens. Come, I'll show you." She led Tarrant around the pillars so that they had an unimpeded view of Avon's back.

The reason for Avon's stupefied condition was now apparent: he had been most brutally flogged. The white skin of his back was striped with bleeding welts from neck to waist, with additional random strokes across the shapely buttocks and muscular thighs.

"I'm told that on ancient Earth, this was a punishment used on sailing ships for insubordinate crew members. Most appropriate, don't you think?" Servalan smiled up at Tarrant as if expecting to be praised for her cleverness. "My experts tell me that most men pass out with half the number of strokes that Avon took before he stopped fighting us. But now-- now he is at his very best. Soft-- pliant-- submissive-- available. And you, Tarrant-- you will be the first to possess him." At her last words, Avon made a sudden, startled movement, raising his head as if to listen more closely.

Servalan and Tarrant circled back around the pillars to stand again in front of Avon. He was staring at them in groggy confusion. "Tarrant?" he whispered. Tarrant might have answered him, but Servalan spoke first.

"Touch him, dear," she said. She raised Tarrant's right hand, which she had been holding in her own, and placed it against Avon's chest.

Tarrant needed little urging. He was fascinated by the strange and yet familiar body before him. With both hands he explored the paradox of soft skin over hard muscle. He ran his fingers through the curling hairs on Avon's chest, while with his other hand he reached up to stroke Avon's face, gazing into the dark eyes. Why had he never noticed before how beautiful, how magnetically compelling those eyes were?

Avon was struggling to speak now, gasping for breath with each word. "Tarrant. =No=. Don't. Let. Her. Use. You."

Tarrant smiled indulgently and cut off the words with a quick kiss. "You don't understand yet, do you, Avon? It's you who's going to be used," he said.

The look of shock on Avon's face was priceless. He bared his teeth at Tarrant and tried frantically to pull away from the offending hands, but the cords with which he was bound held him securely. Tarrant continued his leisurely exploration of the body offered up for his pleasure, stroking gently until Avon was quiet again. Then he was touching Avon's sex. Avon started and gasped, staring down apprehensively, but he did not try to speak.

Handling the genitals of another adult man was strange. Tarrant had not tried anything of the kind in years; not since his adolescence, in fact. He hadn't really known what he was doing at the time, although he and his school friends had enjoyed their games well enough. He still wasn't sure what to do, but he tried to think what he himself would enjoy and proceed accordingly. Given Avon's condition, he doubted that he was at all likely to get any results; but there was no doubt that he himself was being affected. Tarrant's excited condition was noticed by Servalan, who began fondling him as he fondled Avon.

"It would be lovely if you could make him come, dear, but it isn't really necessary. Try fucking him with your fingers; I'm sure he needs to be loosened up a bit. Here, I'll help you." With a last caress, she abandoned Tarrant briefly. She reappeared standing behind Avon, reaching down to clasp Tarrant's hand between Avon's spread legs. In her hand was a cool, slick, viscous substance that she spread liberally over Tarrant's fingers, grasping his hand and using him in turn to spread the lubricant around Avon's anus.

"You know, Tarrant, I don't think that Avon has ever been used in this way before. Blake had his soul, but never his body. You will be the first to take him." She moved Tarrant's hand up and down the crease of Avon's buttocks. He had to bend slightly to reach so far. He wrapped his other arm around Avon's waist, clasping the wounded back. Avon's still face was very close to his own, with eyes shut tightly and jaw muscles clenched. Tarrant pressed his lips against Avon's neck just as Servalan pushed his finger into Avon's ass.

Avon hissed angrily at the penetration and struggled weakly in Tarrant's arms. Tarrant held him tightly and continued to work his finger in and out, becoming increasingly excited at the thought that the narrow little passageway was being enlarged for his use. Presently he was able to slide a second finger inside Avon, and then a third. Each new invasion drew a groan from his victim, but Tarrant ignored these inarticulate protests.

"It's time, darling, Time to fuck him. I shall so enjoy watching your beautiful big cock going into his tight little ass." Tarrant felt himself grow harder still as Servalan smoothed the gel over his own straining cock. He released his hold and let himself be drawn around so that he faced the bloody mess of Avon's back. With a strange rush of both tenderness and ruthlessness, he embraced the other man, pressing hard against him. Avon was so much shorter that Tarrant had to bend his knees further than was quite comfortable to achieve the correct angle. But Tarrant's legs were young and strong, and he wanted Avon now. Servalan deftly moved his cock into position, and with a powerful surge he thrust upward.

Avon emitted a choking gasp that was almost a scream. Very slowly and distinctly, he said, "Del Tarrant, I'll kill you for this." Tarrant smiled. "It has been tried," he said sweetly into Avon's ear, and nibbled at the earlobe. His hands stroked the delicate fur of Avon's chest and belly, then moved down to hold Avon's hips in place as he thrust harder and harder. Avon was silent now, and his lack of response began to make Tarrant angry. The myriad disappointments and frustrations of nearly two years in Avon's uncongenial company surged through Tarrant's brain.

<<Feel it, Avon. Feel my cock sliding into you. Feel me inside you. You're mine, all mine. Who's the dominant male now?

Does it hurt, Avon? It should. You've hurt all of us, plenty of times. Take that for the sneers. That for the insults. That for the snarls. That for the threats.

You deserved the flogging. And you deserve the fucking. It should have been done long ago. Take it, Avon. Take it up the ass. You asked for it. Take that. And =that=. And THAT.>>

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