As Pleases My General

D'nar's laugh rolled out in the empty throne hall. Finally he put his arm about the young Akhan's back and pressed him in a hug. "It's the same old problem," he scolded the young man affectionately. "Look at yourself, you great fool. You're as pretty as a maiden playing with herself under the blossom trees in Spring, with an arse like the new moon rising and a brain as sharp as a razor blade. You're the best friend a man could have by his side, loyal and true. And you're the Akhan! You can order B'jor to have you if you want to. He'll be a good fuck and you'll have the army's balls in your hand. Have a bit of confidence, for the Gods' and Goddesses' sake; just go and get him if you want him."

He pressed his mouth to the familiar firm sculpted lips of his beloved Akhan. They opened like a flower for his tongue to come into the warm mouth which sucked softly on his tongue. He gave the Akhan's buttocks an affectionate squeeze through the white silk draped over the appealing curve of the young man's arse. As their lips parted he said, "Did I give you a taste for the military then?"

"Oh no," murmured the Akhan, nestling his blond head into the side of D'nar's squat bristly neck. "I always liked you, my beloved D'nar."

Fuck and triple fuck. The Akhan had gone to his uncle and ASKED for D'nar to be singled out to seduce him. It had been one of those complicated games they played where you had even less control than you thought you did. He had been manipulated into position by the two Akhanets just as he had been manipulated by Orlissa. The rueful grin of admiration curved his lips.

Out on campaign with the young Akhanet -- his father was still alive then, he was just a fledgling, still soft and downy with those appealing blue eyes turned up to the hard men of the military in warm admiration. They took him along the border to the mountain region where you could have a bit of a skirmish but it wouldn't be as bad as the outright warfare then going on in the plains. In the evenings they could collect up in the pavilion tent of his uncle, the Akhanet Regent, hearing any of the soldiers who could do so singing songs about battles. D'nar and the other Commanders would tell the young Akhanet what strategies they had used in those battles and pretend this pleasurable feasting with wine and song was how they always conducted the campaign meetings.

One night the Akhanet Regent fixed D'nar with a stare from an eye as blue but as steely as the young Akhanet's eye was soft. D'nar looked back at him in puzzlement and he jerked his head slightly at the young Akhanet. D'nar looked at the young man lounging over some silk cushions on the red and black carpets, his hip jutting up draped in the white silk trousers he wore under the military leather hauberk. Well, it was a hauberk, made of leather and probably hard enough to stop a swung sword although it was beautifully decorated in gold tooled designs.

The Akhanet took a bunch of grapes from the plate in front of him and began draping them in his mouth, curling a tongue that was suddenly red against the luminescent pale beauty of his skin around the grapes that he pulled in to squeeze and burst on his teeth. D'nar's testicles itched as he watched that red tongue caress the grapes and pull them onto the teeth. Whenever he looked, the Akhanet always seemed to be doing something that drew D'nar's attention to his sculpted mouth or his taut young arse or his long slim legs but he never looked directly at D'nar, tilting his pretty blue eyes shyly sideways if D'nar spoke to him. D'nar had assumed this meant he was not sexually interested, that he was avoiding the possibility of their gazes meeting and locking for that second longer than was acceptable, meaning 'Come outside then and I'll show you mine'. However the Akhanet Regent had made it plain what was expected and D'nar obediently lingered on until the Akhanet happened to get up and go out of the pavilion. D'nar followed him, casually glancing over the luscious curve of that young arse draped in white silk; this was not an onerous duty that was being demanded of him. Instead of courteously going somewhere else for a piss, he went after the Akhanet but rather than brazenly wait for him to take his cock out and then give it a casual and unmistakable grope, he bumped him as they walked, taking the young man's long slim fingers in his own sword-calloused hand. He did it gently, expecting the Akhanet to pull away from him in denial. He was surprised when the Akhanet tilted his head down, blushing, and gave him a quick glance from eyes full of a sudden starry adoration and then willingly followed him with his long slim fingers curling about D'nar's hard hand.

They went to D'nar's rough campaign tent. It was a proper soldier's billet, not like the Akhanet's silk-draped cushion-strewn couch in the large airy pavilion of his uncle. The bedding was narrow and although you could stand up there was not much room in the crammed tent full of weaponry so the two men were squeezed physically close as soon as they had both slipped through the entrance. D'nar laid his hands on the Akhanet's hauberk lacings but the Akhanet was moving into his arms, so eager for his kiss, D'nar realised this was going to be an even more pleasurable task than he had imagined. Deflowering the Akhanet was a responsibility, he had assumed that the Akhan and the Akhanet Regent wanted to ensure the impressionable future ruler of Tarknan fell into the hands of someone who would not be seeking to screw him over in more ways than the physical. If the Akhanet was this hot for it and didn't need gentle persuasion to receive pleasure, it would be one of the easiest missions D'nar had ever had entrusted to him.

The Akhanet was already panting in their kiss, his beautiful chiselled lips opening like a flower for D'nar's tongue to wriggle in like the bee. D'nar gripped one of those sword-calloused hands on the lad's tense silken buttock, the Akhanet gave a moan, his head going softly back, his knees spreading. D'nar gave his lower lip a gentle nip: a sting from the bee, just to bring the lad back from going off away too early. His first time, make it a good long pleasuring, not a fuck as quick and hard as if he were a work-weary whore in a back alley who only wanted to go home to her children with enough in her purse to feed them.

"Sh-shall I suck you off?" suggested the Akhanet. "But I've never done it before."

"Shut up," D'nar murmured in his ear, gripping his hand on that silken buttock. The Akhanet gave a shocked and delighted snigger. D'nar coiled his tongue softly round the royal ear and the Akhanet moaned with surprised pleasure. D'nar ran his tongue down the Akhanet's long elegant pale neck and under his chin, coming back up for the sculpted lips -- suddenly soft in anticipation -- and the Akhanet's kiss. He took his hand from that firm young buttock and as he kissed the Akhanet's lips, he began pulling the lacings of his leather hauberk undone. He ran his fingers over the grooves of the gold tooled patterns with an indulgent smile before pulling off the hard leather shell and chucking it to the side. He lifted the silk shirt underneath to slide his hands over the smooth warm flesh of the Akhanet's chest and back and the suddenly sensitive flat stomach; the Akhanet jerked and moaned.

He tucked his hands round into the waistband of the young man's silk trousers to grip on the tense curving muscles of the buttocks. He eased the silken trousers and underpants off down to hang on those slim youthful hips. Looking down he briefly admired the delicate lines of the young male body with its flat stomach, slender hips and curved buttocks, the skin so pale and soft, still downy with youth. He knelt heavily down and softly softly he kissed the tip of the Akhanet's long slim cock, catching the bead of pre-cum on his lips, lifting his head with a grin to lick it so the Akhanet could see what pleasure there was in giving pleasure.

The Akhanet's eyes were already wild with love. He could no longer distract himself with chatter, he could not speak, he only moaned and leaned on D'nar's shoulders, D'nar took that slender penis in his mouth and sucked it, pushing the lad's buttocks to make him sway to and fro.

It was the lad's first time, he was passionately in love and over-excited, too soon D'nar had to move him away from his mouth. He lay hurriedly back on the bedding and shucked down his own heavy duty military breeches, the Akhanet was coming to his arms, entangling and encumbering him as he tried to prepare himself. Lucky he had some pot of lubricant right by the bed -- he'd been rubbing it into his sword-belt and hauberk to waterproof them. He found a condom in his breeches' pocket -- soldier's habit always to have one handy, and eased it onto the Akhanet's long penis, even that made the young man moan and quiver. He rolled hurriedly over to offer up his strong arse.

But the lad was pulling at him, he wanted him facing, he wanted to look into D'nar's eyes and have his kiss. D'nar was willing, it just meant a delay while he got his boots and breeches off. The Akhanet was chucking off his own soft leather boots and silken garments, D'nar hesitated about his hard hauberk but the Akhanet could wait no longer, he was pushing D'nar back on the narrow bedding, lying over that hard leather-clad breast, looking deep into D'nar's warm hazel eyes with his beautiful blue eyes as he lifted his cock and slid into D'nar's arse.

"Aaaah!" the moan was simultaneous. D'nar's own cock, thick and throbbing, was pressed against the lad's soft groin, the Akhanet had started pushing to and fro, moaning with pleasure as he brought the sensitive tip of his penis in and out of D'nar's receptive anal passage, D'nar was grinning with pleasure at the sensation in his anus, the Akhanet's arms were about the army Commander's tough leather hauberk, his mouth came seeking the affectionate kiss, there were calloused hands gripping softly on his buttocks, encouraging even more the irresistible movements. Their mouths were pressed and the older man's tongue was caressing his kiss, his lips, his tongue -- too soon he gave a great cry of bliss, cumming in uncontrollable pleasure in the arms of that man, so famously brave and battle-hardened and courteous with the piercing hazel eyes in the scarred face, the man for whom he had been stricken with a burning desire so intense it made him too shy to speak.

He was so tired out with pleasure now, he felt bad that D'nar was having to handle his own climax, the Akhanet wished D'nar'd let him suck him just a bit at least. But as he felt D'nar's sperm spurt over the luminescent pale soft skin of his stomach and offered a kiss that was gently, tenderly taken, he felt confident that there would be more opportunities to give many pleasures to the lover his uncle had whisperingly assured him could be his.

And there certainly had. D'nar reflected on one or two particular fun-filled days and nights spent with his beloved Akhanet, a salacious grin on his mouth, as he strolled out of the torchlit palace corridors. Then he gave a sigh as he thought about his failure to understand how deeply the lad had -- still did, love him. As the Akhan had said, once his cock had found somewhere to nestle he didn't usually feel inclined to scatter his seed about the place. He had been content to pleasure and receive pleasure from the Akhanet alone but he of course did not expect a royal prince to pass up on any other enjoyment that came his way. Since the Akhanet enjoyed himself sometimes with a casual entertainment, he had assumed the lad was taking the affair as lightly as he was. He had allowed it to melt pleasantly away, going back more and more frequently to his own little house when he was on leave instead of moving into the White Castle. It was true that he liked women better for sex but he was very fond of the tall lean lovely Akhan and there is always something precious about a young man who has lain in your tender arms for his first orgasmic embrace.

She had a week's head start on him but she was moving through hostile territory and encumbered by the Crown. Probably there was a small force, ten or twelve soldiers, who had travelled to give her the word: "the time has come". They might make the border ahead of him but he had a good chance of catching them up while they were still in Tarknan. He went down to the royal stables and selected out two of the finest horses, steeds with both stamina and strength, a couple of bays with white socks and one had a white blaze down its nose. He was the Akhan's former lover, a favourite friend of both the Akhan and the Akhanet Regent. He had never asked for much before now but whatever he did ask for he got without question. He commanded the horses ready for him at dawn and went home to catch a few hours' rest.

Oh he was tired. He had ridden hard and swift home this time, spurred on by an all-too prescient lurking anxiety.

He cast off his sweat-grimed, travel-stained clothes and climbed straight into the clean sweet fresh sheets as he was. He would never be here again to be annoyed by his own stink and dirt on the white cotton sheets.

Tears suddenly filled his eyes. What was this! oh, he was just weary. That was why he was suddenly, poignantly moved at the thought that before leaving she had made up the bed for him with the sheets she herself laundered. She had made up the bed with corners tucked in as crisp and firm as a General's personal servant might do it but she was not here to heat the water and pour him a bath.

It was the lack of a warm soothing bath, that was all, his eyes would drift shut soon in much-needed longed-for sleep. After a while his calloused fingers drifted over to his flaccid penis: a bit of self-pleasuring was a powerful soporific.

After that time when she had let him take her army style on the kitchen table (he could appreciate the joke now, all these years later), it was a while before she took his pleasure again. The next day she was the same docile placid domestic slave he had always over-looked in his house, her head in the hooded garments she affected stooped, her shoulders slumped in such a disfiguring posture that he began to doubt if she had got the muscular hard body he had momentarily laid hands on -- or the big soft breasts he had been encouraged to play with instead; ah! those tits, surreptitiously he had peered at her from his late breakfast as she shuffled past him, trying if he could make out their heavy swinging fruitiness in the ugly folds of her garments. Her eyes came blankly back to him and he looked away in embarrassment. She was so placid and boring and dull of eye that he began to wonder if it had happened at all.

Then he caught her in his bedroom one night.

She was always in and out of it, cleaning and tidying and making the bed but this was late. He came home before he usually did from a drink with the lads. They had gone on to a brothel but after the thrilling engagement on the kitchen table some pretentious whore was not what he wanted so he came home and found her looking through his bedside drawer.

She pulled her dress open to give him her tits as a distraction of course. (His penis was thickening at last at the memory of them, he rubbed up and down gently, as kind to himself as he was to every one of his lovers -- even the one he thought was a slave.) Fuck me five-ways, it worked like a dream for her! His hands were on them and his head in the curve of her neck in a moment while she softly shoved the drawer closed with one hand and pulled at the lacing of his breeches with the other. He cared nothing for whatever tidying up she was doing so late at night, his hands were full of warm big breasts, his fingers going to tease at one nipple and feel it harden with lusty pleasure under his persuasive gentle pinching.

His mouth caressed her neck, her jaw, coming hunting for her kiss. As he remembered it now, pulling tenderly at his reluctant penis, he knew that in that moment when her mouth opened for his tongue to press into it, the business with him ceased to be subterfuge, business, and became loving lusting fun. She sniggered in the kiss and he looked briefly into glinting laughing intelligent eyes then she shut her eyes, knowing well that he would be able to look into them and see a soul that was about as much like a slave's as a flowering tree is like a pebble in your shoe.

She let him dominate. That must have been weird for her! ordinarily he supposed she took whatever young soldier in her army appealed to her and she took him how she wanted him and he pissing well did it with pride because his comrades would all be deeply envious and ever after whispering, "Did she do you quick or slow?" "Did you get to hold her tit?" "Did she let you have a kiss?"

Maybe it made a pleasant change or maybe she was desperate for a fuck after two years and only one screw on the kitchen table army style. He knew he pleased her. Well, he was famous for the exquisite gentle pleasures his hard trained body could be teased into providing.

He tried to pull off her enveloping garments but she pretended she was shy about showing him her body, remembering this as he lay in the cool clean sheets she had tucked into a General's crisp tight corners for him, he gave a snort of laughter against the tears on his cheeks. Why the deceiving cow must have been trained to wrestle with her soldiers naked apart from a leather harness to protect her breasts, they had no time for modesty in the Andarrian forces. That would be something, to have a wrestle with her naked apart from a leather harness to protect your bits, he speculated forlornly about this as he rubbed up and down on his penis knowing that he would be lucky if they chopped his head off as soon as he caught up with her.

No wrestle back then of course, not appropriate skills for a fucking domestic slave. She had pulled up her skirts and down her big underpants, lying back on his bed with her legs wide for him and he left the rest of her body covered in his greed for her cunt. Resting his calloused hands on those spread muscular thighs, he fell to his knees and put his face down to where her body forked and opened, he pressed his tongue into the crack of her labia and she started tossing and moaning and creaming, her own calloused hands coming to gently hold his head.

He had always assumed they were calluses from cleaning about the place -- ha ha! In the mornings she must have been practising her fighting skills with his spare weaponry and keeping herself fit while in the afternoons when he was more likely to be home she trotted about with her head bowed down, washing and cooking and caring for him and the Crown.

She was a deliciously wet woman, her vagina never needed lubricating if you were permitted to poke it in there, she glistened with cum under the probing caress of his tongue. It was that time in the month when her cream was sweet to the taste and he lingered with his tongue pushing into her vulva. She was quivering with the unsolicited pleasure, having expected him only to be lured into fucking her quickly and forgetting that she had been spying in his papers. His tongue caressed the sensitive ridge between vulva and anus, the erogenous peritoneum, her legs opened wider, now he was poking his tongue at her anus, licking her shitty backside, she gasped, helpless with pleasure as he rimmed her, the soft strong muscle of the tongue generating irresistible sensations all over her arse.

As he knelt up away, fumbling in the pocket of his breeches for the soldier's ever-ready condom, she lay in wanton passivity, her thighs wide open, her pulsing vulva wet and waiting. He was covered and coming at her, that thick squat penis was set to her sex with gentle fingers that caressed her clitoris as they brushed by. "Uh-uh-uh, c'mon, c'mon!" He had eased softly into her and he lay down on her, pressing to her kiss, thrusting so softly, so lovingly, so dee-eep. His mouth closed on her mouth, he had gripped her lower lip softly in his teeth. Her hips were lifting, her thighs throwing open, she was moaning, she longed so much to tear their clothes aside so her skin could know his skin, dimly some part of her brain said, "Fuck no!" He had hit her sweet spot, fortunately she could not control her hands sufficiently to tear off their clothes or she would have risked her mission to do it, to press her whole body to the body fucking her on her sweet spot, thrusting her gently into uncontrollable ecstasy, she was coming in waves washing up through her loins and belly and he was saying something, moaning in her ear: "'Lissa, 'Lissa!," with a great effort she refrained from giving him back his name to seal the love they shared. Pleasure was bursting like light in her thighs, her sex, her body in his arms, she cried out, he moaned out and they lay still.