A Thrust into Power Pt. 04

It was all Nahmet could think about. The betrayal. It was the first thought that entered his mind in the morning, and it was the last to sooth him in the night. If indeed he could sleep. Most nights Nahmet lay awake, twisting and turning on the cold stone prison floor, thinking of how he would murder the royal family.

Killing just Prince Aveen wouldn't suffice. It would be too swift. Too merciful. No. He would have to kill his wife and that unborn seed of his too. He would kill his father and his new queen. And any and all who would prevent him from doing so. Nahmet would end the dynasty and every promise of legacy Aveen could possibly have, before he'd end the Princes life too. As payment for the hurt he caused Nahmet. That's what kept Nahmet going all those days deep under the ground where no sunlight reached him.

On a rare enough occasion Nahmet contemplated not carrying out his mission. The prospected murders of the family that took him in, raised him, protected him when his own father couldn't anymore, saddened him a great deal. Ultimately though, the rage always won. The great love of his life, with his bright brown eyes that twinkled when they saw him, with his broad muscular pecs and arms that radiated warmth and intimacy, had betrayed him. After that man had just penetrated him, seeded him with love and friendship, and shared the most beautiful, intimate bond two men could in this world, he betrayed him. As much as Nahmet wanted to deny it, he had allowed himself to admit his love for Aveen that fateful night. And there was no suffering imaginable that would heal wounds Prince Aveen had ripped open in Nahmet's heart when he had lied to the guards and caused his imprisonment.

"Sinner", a low voice hissed through the room. Nahmet immediately jumped up, ready for a fight, remembering the royal battle training he received alongside the Prince. A guard opened the gate of his cell, with a look of disgust and disdain, and three more entered, spears at the ready.

For a second Nahmet feared his time on earth had come to an end. The gods judged him mercilessly for taking a man like he himself was a woman and so did the judges of the court. His sentence was hanging, in accordance to the Gods Law. But Nahmet had counted he would at least have another week to plan his escape and coinciding revenge killings before he would face the noose. Yet here four men were already to turn his body cold, Nahmet was sure. Instead, the guards retracted their spears and made way for a bright light.

Princess Raia's golden locks glowed in the flickering orange shimmer of the candle in her hand. She radiated warmth and light in a place that never knew neither. Nahmet couldn't muster any words. Her dress slid over the dirty floor as if she floated.

"Hello, old friend," her soft voice said soothingly.

Nahmet had long pondered his first meeting with Aveen's new wife, a person he resented if only because she got what he had always gotten and would never have again; Aveen's unlimited love and devotion.

"I am not your friend," Nahmet grunted out of the depths of his soul.

"You are my husband's most trusted friend. That makes you a friend of mine whether either of us wants to or not," Gaia says while smiling pleasantly. "Of course it would be best to leave you to the judgement of the Gods," she continued.

Nahmet looked at the shiny spears that gleamed in the candle light. Even with his training he wouldn't be swift enough to evade them all.

"Having your new husband lay with another man on your wedding night... it's a great insult to a princess. And to the gift I gave him," she said, faking shock and surprise, while gently placing her hand on her stomach.

A jolt of excruciating pain stabbed Nahmet in the stomach, thinking of how she would give Aveen a son and he could never.

"If the rumors are true, of course. Which I'm sure they're not. A man as strong and potent as Aveen, seeking the company of other men when he could have any woman in the world. When he has the most beautiful woman in the world... A joke, I'm sure. A lie told by our enemies. The commoners must indulge in their envy somehow," Raia smiled, seemingly believing the compliments she just paid herself as she strutted around the room. "And still... Men think they can hide their affections. Princes most of all. But love doesn't waver when one decides to, I'm afraid. My husband adores you even when he speaks ill of you," she continues, continuing to stab Nahmet in his already bleeding heart with her kind words.

Nahmet whimpered. However easy the hate had come during his stay in this dungeon, hearing Aveen might carry some affection for him still filled his soul with joy and sorrow. If he loved him, if what they had shared was real, how could he have forsaken him like this?

"Killing you would do no good for my marriage, I'm afraid. Aveen hasn't been himself for weeks. And so I have arranged another destiny for you..." Raia continued, rather pleased with the undevoted attention she received by Nahmet. "The King would very much like to speak with you," she quipped as if it were an anecdote and not the very reason why she came to see him. And just as mysterious as she entered, she left too.

The gate remained open and thus Nahmet, with very little other choice but this or the hangman's noose, followed her into the dark.

In silence they climbed the steps into the castle, past the halls which Nahmet had come to know so well. It was already night, Nahmet gathered by the darkness that consumed the halls and stairways.

It wasn't nostalgia Nahmet felt when he saw the nooks and crannies, he spent his puberty in. Instead a liberation overcame him. He always knew his time among Kings and Princes was borrowed. A blessing doomed to end. Now that it was over, or at the very least tainted by his own doing, Nahmet felt finally like himself again. A poor worker's child whose future was anywhere but here.

As they climbed up higher and higher, Nahmet saw how the world out of the open holes in the walls grew smaller and smaller. They must have entered the residence of the royal family, he gathered. At the very least the guards were aplenty now. If he had any dreams of ending Gaia's life they'd surely mean he wouldn't be able to get to the other members alive. Entertaining his revenge fantasies once more, he didn't notice Gaia had stopped in front of a large oak door. She turned to him.

"You must know that whatever transpired between you and the Prince will never happen again," her words and voice ringed understanding but her eyes commanded obedience.

Nahmet's heart ached at the truth of her sentence. And without so much as a goodbye, Gaia strutted away. Nahmet stared at the door in front of him, uncertain of what to do. For a couple of breaths, nothing happened. Then, without warning, the massive door opened, moaning under its own weight. Two guards on the other side returned to position, signaling Nahmet could enter. Nahmet couldn't help but notice how their naked muscles bulged under their shining armor. For too long the only arousing thing he had seen were the memories of Aveen's ripped body plowing into him, and they were tainted by the pain and sorrow that followed after. Seeing beautiful male bodies shining in the candle light, awakened something in Nahmet he had declared gone.

The King's chamber was glowing from a small fire in the hearth in the left corner of the room. Nahmet recognized it from his childhood and gazed into the bright, big flames. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt warm.

Two fingers snipped and Nahmet saw the graying man he once worshipped. He did not acknowledge Nahmet but pointed at two servants who took Nahmet's hands and guided him to a smaller room where a big crate of steaming water sat in the middle. Nahmet couldn't believe his eyes. The servants stripped him from his rags and guided him into the tub. Nahmet washed the dirt and smell of the prison cell from his pours and with it the fear and much of the anger that had fueled his life force for quite some time. Scrubbed clean, the servants took a woolen robe and wrapped Nahmet inside. For whatever exclusion Nahmet had always felt in his time with the royal family, he certainly had missed the luxury.

"I hope I have taught my son that even enemies should be treated like guests under his roof," a low voice roared through the residence.

Nahmet followed the sound and found the King staring at the fire still. The servants bowed and exited the room. And with a snap of his fingers, so did the handsome guards.

"I grieves me how you have been treated, Nahmet," the King said after the oak door had closed shut.

King Barock stood tall, towering over knights and guards alike, though his broad chest and well defined muscles surely helped. He was a king in every sense of the word. Proud, strong, his mere presence commanded respect. Nahmet had half a mind to kneel before him, if he hadn't sensed the familiarity in the words of the man who had welcomed him to his home all those summers ago.

"The public needs a villain. My son cannot play that part, surely you'd agree," the king of Mamafé continued.

Nahmet couldn't decide. This was Aveen's father. If he wanted to hurt his former friend and lover, make him suffer the way he had, this was his chance. He could strangle him with his bare hands or with the rope from his robe. But why then, did he feel so obedient to this man.

"Raia convinced me that a public execution would only confirm to the people the vicious lies about Aveen and you," the King said as he turned. "Which means I must intervene."

Nahmet had forgotten how the King's eyes twinkled just like Aveen's. A kind smile disarmed him completely. Now he was face to face his enemy, it was harder to remember his vengeance.

The King smiled slyly, with that mischievous grin his son inherited. Nahmets stomach fluttered. The King had a seasoned man's body. Not tightly trained muscles from daily sword practice, but natural broad pecks covered in black fur which traced down his rock-hard stomach, without any ab definition. His shoulders and back was huge and wide and his body was v-shaped. His big arms filling out the satin robe, tightly wrapped around his biceps and hanging loosely over his thick thighs and calves.

But it weren't the King's muscles that impressed Nahmet the most. Nor his long and hairless face, with thin grey hairs lightly covering a balding head. No it was the man's stern, hardened expression that made Nahmed quiver with excitement and docility. This was not a man, a King, to disobey.

Nahmet felt the urge he had felt that night in the stables with the Prince as well. An urge to subject, to be dominated. An urge to please the man before him in all his muscled, fertile prowess. His crotch tingled, not in blood pumping excitement, but in subjective surrender. He wanted to spread his legs like a woman for the man before him.

The King, as if he had seen the thoughts that occurred in Nahmet's mind, stepped forward towards the young man. The King's hands betrayed his age with wrinkles and visible arteries, but they were still large, strong and harsh in their grip, proof of a life fighting. They pushed the robe off of Nahmet's shoulders, baring the younger man's ripped body to the sweltering air.

Nahmet shuddered in excitement and confusion.

The King looked down to Nahmet's crotch and immediately Nahmet's member grew hard.

"Majesty," Nahmet moaned softly, as he unexpectedly was naked and vulnerable in front of a man he meant to kill mere minutes ago.

"You've been a guest in my home for the latter part of your life," Barock said. "Call me what I am to you."

Nahmets entire body trembled. Even though he was well defined himself, having endured most of the training Aveen had too, he was slimmer than the man before him. Lean and supple almost, by comparison. His shoulders, pecks and butt were muscled but round and soft and smooth, not hard and covered with fur like his majesty. No, not majesty...

"Father," Nahmet utterd breathlessly, forever betraying his real father who died all those moons ago. This was a new type of father. A man who provided for him, whose power kept him safe and warm. A man who could love him the way other men loved their women.

And with that the King placed his hand on Nahmet's left side and gently pushed him towards the bed.

"Lay down," the King commanded.

Nahmet let himself slide back on the pelts and furrs that laid on the King's feathered mattress. He felt like a babe in the woods, naked and free at last. He scooted further up on the bed, his naked legs stroking each other as to hide his pillar of excitement in between them. The heat of the fire made every movement an exercise and with the heat of the covers, Nahmet found himself sweating from his head down to his ass crack.

The King looked at him, with a disdain Nahmet had grown familiar to ever since he was exposed to the world as a disgusting cock taker. But instead the royal male let down his shoulders, causing the silk robe to slip off of him and fall to the ground. Nahmet let out a soft moan as the man before him was finally entirely naked. A biological marvel. A true specimen of man. Every muscle bulged awaited to be worshipped, his fur begged to be touched, his cock, majestically risen high, ready to skewer warm, wet meat.

"Turn around," the ruler commanded.

Nahmet felt a shiver run down his spine at the baritone voice and he not only did he what what was asked of him, he naturally lifted his ass up and arched his lower back, as he had seen many women do during bedding ceremonies.

Staring at the head of the bed, Nahmet felt a large hand on his right buttocks. He gasped at the touch. It was rough and harsh but it gently slid over his soft skin, down the hill into his sweaty ass crack.

"That's it my boy," the King moaned. Without warning, the dry, large finger graced Nahmet's puckered hole.

The young man couldn't help but moan, too.

"I see why my son couldn't resist," the older man said, though Nahmet felt like it was more to himself than to him.

Nahmet felt such pride at the memory of the King's son breeding him like a bitch followed by the realization his father was exploring to do the same.

The king suddenly grabbed both of Nahmet's thick thighs and dragged him closer to to him to the edge of the bed. When Nahmet lifted his upper body up in response, the king pushed it back down harshly, further exposing his hole to the open air.

"That's right," the man mumbled, tracing his index finger over the exposed puckered asshole again, while Nahmet sighed in utter anticipation. His excitement was almost unbearable. He wanted to be fucked right now. Used the way the crown prince had used him too. He wanted to be part of the royal family forever by carrying the seed of the men inside him.

"It's still so tight. Like my son was never there," the King said, looking at the asshole in front of him with great fascination.

"Yes, majesty," Nahmet said, more automatically than knowing how to respond. He was trembling with excitement, both scared of what is to come as impatient for it to start.

Out of nowhere a large hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head up. Even more sudden another hand grabbed his throat and squeezed it.

"What am I to you?" The bouldering voice of a king asked.

"Father," Nahmet whimpered. "Dad," he added. He was convinced he felt his limp cock had started to leak.

Both hands immediately let go and Nahmet fell down on the furs once more. He caught his breath, as sticky fluid dripped out of his penis. Nahmet smiled. The King was nothing like the Prince.

Indeed. Unannounced the large, hairy finger of the man thrusted inside Nahmet's hole. The muscled young man was reduced to a puddle of meat and bones as he squealed in high octane. His hole was burning and every fiber in his being tingled in shock and delight. He remembered the feeling and let himself relax. A deep sigh escaped his mouth as he felt the finger twirl inside him.

"Oh by the gods dad," Nahmet panted. The King didn't respond. He simply moved his finger around, feeling if every wall of the boy's rectum was clean. He pushed his finger deeper, past the bend of the colon and the second, internal ring. Nahmet's body instinctively responded by moving away, his limbs climbing further on the bed. The King merely planted his other hand, almost as big as the boy's waist, on the small of his back and forced him down. Nahmet, even with all his years of training, couldn't move an inch under the King's strength.

The finger was now all the way in and making even larger circles. Nahmet whimpered and moaned, both in pain and in pleasure. He didn't know what the King was doing but it felt both unnatural, as he could feel his organs moving and stretching, with the sharp tip of the finger playing a dangerous game of destruction, and heavenly, as his body shuddered at the sensations and touch. When the King's grip relieved, Nahmet, without thinking, moved himself down. By magic, the finger even went in deeper. Nahmet let out a stifled moan and he started to fuck himself on the finger. He moved his back which caused his big round ass cheeks to fall up and down onto the King's finger. Nahmets eyes rolled back in his head and he got on both hands as he threw his head back. This was even better than the Prince's cock. Knowing that hand has touched Kings and Queens, had enforced laws and ended lives, Nahmet felt more powerful than ever, fucking it inside his gaping asshole. He never wanted it to leave. And yet it did.

The finger left an emptiness when it subtracted from his colon. Two hands once more reached for Nahmet's neck and face, with the index finger finding a way into his mouth. Nahmet could taste the warmth and numb smell of his intestines and leaked even harder. But the King wasn't fooling around. He choked Nahmet again and forced him down by his hair. The large body of a real man climbed on top of Nahmet. He could feel the bare, exposed heavy pillar and stones in between the King's legs on his back. As the last whiff of breath escaped him, Nahmet felt safer than ever in such tight grip.

"You think you can use me, boy? I am your King. You are my fucking slave. You think you're going to enjoy this? You think it matters what you feel?" The King grunted in Nahmet's ears. Nahmet couldn't respond and didn't want to anyway.

When only silence filled the room and the King felt the muscular young body under him twirl in excitement, he grew angrier. He flipped the fit lad on his back, let go of his face and lifted his legs high up in the air. Nahmet knew what was coming, but he was in no way prepared. The King's cock was fat and wide and his tense ass ring didn't stand a chance. A sharp burning sensation told Nahmet that he was torn open down under. But that was just the beginning.

The big slob of hard meat thrusted up his lower body like sand down a slope. Nothing could stop it. The King's cock filled his exit and then his intestine, further and further up, until Nahmet felt it past his bellybutton. Tears jumped in his eyes. His entire body stifled at the shock, before it collapsed in submission. Something snapped in Nahmet's brain. Some sense of manhood, pride, confidence, sense of self. Even the idea of fatherhood. It was all gone in an instant. Nahmet knew the love making with prince Aveen had been a blessing, but also kid's play. The foolish stumbling of boys trying something new. This is what he truly craved. This is what he was made for. He was no assassin and dared not think of himself important enough to have any grudge against the King or his family. He was nothing but a sheath, a vessel meant to wrap itself around this majestic pole. He was sack ready to be filled to the brim. Not a man or a son. He was a whore for the King's cock.