Xaxac Brigadon & Knights of Order Ch. 01byCandiCame©
When Soko asked me how I got into the business of- what did she call it, a courtesan?- I had no idea how to answer her. It's about like the way that Shiron expected me to remember when my birthday was so he could figure out how old I am. How is anyone supposed to remember that far back to answer those kinds of questions? How the hell am I supposed to remember? I can't remember what I'm supposed to be doing right now!
I never traveled as a child, that I can remember. I think I saw the same staterooms, the ones that we were supposed to keep clean or whatever, so many times that there was a small map in my head- I always did have a good head for maps or space or whatever... What-the-fuck ever. Story of my life. I never paid much attention to anything that wasn't directly spelled out for me, and I tried to do whatever I was told the best I could... I don't think it was a fear thing like Lanus keeps saying, I really just wanted things to be the way that they were supposed to be so that whoever had told me to do it would be happy.
I think that the first time... how to explain this... there was a long time where the whole thing was not a lot different from doing the dishes right or anything like that, it was... kind of a chore, that you had to learn, that you had to do every so often- but there did come a time when I realized that it was all that I was doing. I didn't work the garden anymore, I didn't go to the stables anymore... I woke up one morning and couldn't remember the last time that I had left my master's bedchambers. I realized that I hadn't spoken to anyone of my rank except Marge, a kitchen girl, the entire time I had been there.
By Quislivin, that was so long ago... before Shiron and Soko- before Gradius and the knights and all that bullshit. The first time anything really happened to me, got me out of the house, I guess I was-damn I'm bad with ages-not 20 yet I know- but almost I think... it's so hard when you don't know when you were born. I wasn't a child anymore, I had come out of that, and I think that people were noticing- I think that after Lanus counted it up, I would have been in my late teens, 18 or 19 or thereabouts- I was young and naive (which is a fancy word that Maury taught me for stupid). Before I would walk around with a decanter pouring drinks or trays of grapes or some such shit. Now people were requesting time alone with me- noticing me and asking about me, telling me how beautiful I was- I actually was really happy.
Of course, that was before I fucked everything up.
Anyway, I thought I must have done something to make me very lucky. I suddenly felt like I wasn't doing anything. I had this strict routine that I was supposed to follow every day, but it became second nature so quickly that I stopped sparing it any thoughts and let my body do it for me. Most of it was crazy hygiene stuff- I got so used to bathing in olive oil that I'll still pay for it, and the rest was a test of skill.
Every morning, my master, whose trade I have never asked about, would awaken me, if I hadn't already woken up, by shoving the entire length of his cock in my ass, as far and fast as he could. The only way that I could avoid the shock was by waking up earlier myself, so that I could spend the time before he awoke trying to get him to cum down my throat. Sometimes it actually worked, from experience I've learned that this is because I'm awesome, and even if it didn't, I had a little lubrication, and he was much more apt to gently slide in, and allow me to prepare. If I slept in, it was always harsh- I tried to train myself to awaken early each morning.
I would help him bath before he headed out, and then I was supposed to clean myself with water, and then soak in this hot-oil bath- by Quizlaven, I LOVE bathhouses. Lanus told me later that he thought those baths were more for my fur then anything else, it took us forever to find out that they were selling it. Well, it took me forever, it took Lanus all of 5 seconds, but he knows far more about commerce then I do. Marge would bring me my breakfast, which was always something far superior to what I used to eat when I had been a mere houseslave- I think it was the same thing that the master and his class ate, fruit, cakes, syrup, juice- I always ate in ways that would make the others jealous (save the kitchen staff, who I always believed were skimming off the top).
When I shared my concerns about the way I had been confined, she seemed to think that I shouldn't speak with the other servants, especially not the other houseboys, because I had somehow landed myself a lucrative spot. She usually stayed as long as she dared to have breakfast with me- she cared a lot more about the wide world then I did. After she left, I didn't see anyone, for hours, until she brought me my supper- the signal for all that perfume and make-up and shit, the last leg of the routine before my master came home.
Those days were so boring... I would clean everything- OCD, crazy clean it after a while. I wished that I knew how to read, because he had a lot of books, but I studied the illustrations, mostly related to planting, and different fighting styles. There were a lot of things, that I realize now were probably ledgers for the whole thing and business documents, that I ignored because there wasn't really anything that I could gain from them. I opened the windows, saw that I was in a high tower, and sometimes just stared outside for hours.
When he did come back, I was so starved for attention that I didn't notice all the "terrible" things that my friends keep telling me he did. All I knew was that I had his drink poured and in my hand, his blanket pulled down, and whatever book he had been reading open to his page when I greeted him on my knees. I never asked any questions- never needed a reason to talk.
He had this chair that he would always sit in, next to the fire that I had made, when he came home. I would curl up at his feet, my back to the fire, beating out all the cold so I didn't need any covering. I would start with gentle caresses, licking, sucking gently, taking one ball at a time into my mouth and massaging them with my tongue- until I felt this certain twinge, this change in the way that he was pulling my hair, that made my cock stand strait at once. Then, I would move slowly upward, kissing and caressing, as I pulled up to a kneeling position- always stop and pay attention to the little bundle just under the head; kissing the tip, there's a way that I twirl my tongue, trying to tickle his urethra that usually gets a reaction-
If it were up to me, when I opened my mouth to suck, I would move down with a series of quick thrusts, the first one going back to the little bundle just below the head. But very often, the reaction I spoke of was the hands around my hair tightening and holding me while he unexpectedly lunged as hard as he could and I would have to spend every ounce of concentration I had just on staying alive- trying desperately not to choke to death on his cock. After I learned how to swallow and breath- that actually got a whole lot easier.
I think that a lot of the time he, and a lot of other guys, now that I think about it, were trying to get me to choke, because when you're gasping desperately, trying not to throw up, trying to breath- they'll usually cum. ...as hard as it is to believe, I actually don't like this ending, so I've never tried it when I'm getting head. I mean, I like it when I'm in it- like, receiving- I don't know how to explain it. I guess what I'm trying to say is that people seemed to like it.
I like the kind of ending where they have time to pull out and cum on my face- I don't know why... I know everyone always looks at me weird when I say this, but I love that stuff. I love the way that it feels on skin, especially when it first comes out and it's all warm, before you get sticky... Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Then, he would give me a glass of wine, that sometimes dissolved into three or four or... I dunno, a lot of glasses, to clean my mouth out before he would kiss me. I usually sat at his feet, handed him things, and the like while he played with my hair and went over his books and such, before he got ready for bed, and, therefore, paid any real attention to me again.
Did you know that you could be good at taking it up the ass?