Homage

Homage

Blade knelt in front of the flickering candle, his eyes piously down. The room was sumptuous, and he studied the ornate details through his lowered lashes. Silk tapestries in red and black with gold embroidery lined the wall. On the table, richly covered in gold silk, stood a half dozen photographs within silver frames. Candles burned, a flicker of orange in the haze, the rich scent of incense spreading through the chamber. Blade was dizzy in the thick, perfumed air.

He prostrated himself and kissed his offering to his god. It was a coiled whip, the leather perfectly oiled and blemish free. He couldn’t help but touch the beautiful leather, his fingers stroking reverently.

“Have you made your decision, boy?” 

The voice boomed above Blade. All he could see were black boots, shined to perfection. He didn’t dare raise his head to take in the god in front of him. It wasn’t his place. He was here as an offering, not an equal.

“I’m at your service, my lord.”

“Excellent.” 

A finger grasped Blade’s collar and he was jerked to his feet. The whip levitated into the giant’s hand. Blade mewled as the coiled leather traced his naked skin.

“Your lord is pleased. He will keep this offering. The torture will be long and sweet.”

Fingers coated Blade’s hole with a cinnamon scented oil. Supported by one arm of the giant, he was frozen in place as a large, cold plug filled his back passage. A hand slapped his raised appendage and squeezed his balls mercilessly. Blade shuddered at the snap of steel around his now shrunken organ.

“This is sacrifice, not pleasure.” 

Blade grasped the whipping post that rose majestically from the floor and grunted as his legs were kicked apart. The whip trailed down his back, and his skin shuddered in return, like a horse with a fly.

The first stroke was sweet music across his shoulders. Blade sighed and pressed back, hoping for more. The whip teased his thighs, light and tiny strokes. The crack snapped through the air, the thunder of his god. The strokes were hard now, and Blade’s voice rose in a choir of shouts and groans. He clung to the post, sweat and tears dripping from his body. More, not more. He didn’t know what he was shouting and babbling.

“Please. Please. Master.”

His flesh burned. There was nothing but the whip and the pain and the blur of distorted images. His cock banged against his brutal prison, no escape for the boy who was the sacrifice. He keened continuously, a sound of a wounded animal. Blade’s hands slid from the post, and he went to his knees in desperation.

Hot flesh. Hands everywhere. Lips on his face. Blade desperately focused on the worried blue eyes.

“Wow! I’m fine.” His tongue felt thick and heavy, but he knew he was understood. The worry fled, and the kiss was claiming and breathtaking, and everything that his Ryan was.