Message-ID: <24117asstr$958273804@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: maureen_lcn@yahoo.com X-Original-Message-ID: <3.0.6.32.20000513141928.007b1100@mail.earthlink.net> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-MIME-Autoconverted: from quoted-printable to 8bit by sara.asstr-mirror.org id RAA31603 Subject: {ASSM} RP: Shamelessness (Maureen Lycaon) (MM+, cons, anal, magic) Date: Sat, 13 May 2000 23:10:04 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: newsman, dennyw, apuleius SHAMELESSNESS REASON FOR REPOST: This was posted with the wrong email address, and I'm not certain how many servers honored the cancel message, so some readers probably never saw it. This post has the correct email address. @Copyright Maureen Lycaon, May 2000. All rights reserved under the Bourne Convention. AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story contains themes of homosexuality, dominance and submission and anal sex. If you shouldn't be reading such stuff, don't. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental, etc. . . You know the drill. My deepest thanks to Ron/Lionus, whose feedback made this a better story. You can read more of my stuff at: http://velar.ctrl-c.liu.se/vcl/Authors/Maureen/ The young mage's handsome face was a mask of tranced effort as he struggled to hold the golden glowing wall. He was perhaps twenty or twenty-one years of age. Gloriously thick blond hair, now streaked with sweat, trailed past his shoulders down the back of the silvery-blue Third-Level wizard's robe. His blue eyes were glazed as he forced his mind and his will down the arcane paths of higher magic. His eyebrows nearly met in furrowed concentration. Across the workroom, the older wizard watched from his high- backed chair, his face impassive as he observed his apprentice's efforts. His hair, once dark brown, was silvery with years -- though he was even older than he seemed. His gray eyes were lined with crow's-feet, his face with the laugh lines of a long life spent well and fully. He wore the dark blue robe of a Thirteenth-Level Mage, rich with embroidered symbols. The Wall of Sanctuary rippled and coruscated around the golden-haired apprentice as he fought to hold it against its natural tendency to fall apart in the hurricane of Chaotic force flowing around it. Palin's sweat-beaded face twisted as the Power suddenly fluctuated, threatening to buck out of his control as his concentration wavered. Then it smoothed out as he regained it, the golden light steadying . . . . . . then wavering and collapsing entirely as he lost control. It had only been for a moment, but that was enough. Mazruar sighed, lifting one hand and dismissing the Chaos with a single gesture even as Palin's shoulders slumped, his head hanging, his fists clenched at his sides. The master Adept rose from his chair and walked over to his apprentice, putting a hand on his shoulder. Palin shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with anger and frustration. Mazruar merely nodded and withdrew his hand. "Go ahead, banish the remaining energies." When Palin had done so, directing the energy to flow back into the earth from whence it had come, Mazruar spoke again. "Was it the same thing this time?" Palin glowered at the floor. "Yes. I just can't control it." Mazruar nodded, thinking. It had been half a lunar cycle, and every day he'd set Palin to this same lesson. Every time, Palin failed . . . and always for the same reason. The younger mage's gaze was still directed at the stone floor. "Maybe I just can't do this," he said, a note of despair in his voice. "Don't say that!" Mazruar said sharply, then caught himself. Another lecture wouldn't help Palin now. The younger wizard lifted his head to look him in the eye. "I keep failing, Mazruar. I just can't shake it. And if I can't . . ." ". . . you can't go any farther," Mazruar finished for him, nodding. "Palin, I know you are very discouraged. But I have said I won't give up on you, and I will not. We are not at the end of our resources here." Palin's eyes smoldered with frustration, though he managed to keep his voice steady. "But we nearly are, aren't we?" he demanded. Mazruar's gaze stayed level with his pupil's. "No. Have you forgotten what I taught you about persistence when you were still at First Level?" Palin nodded sullenly. "What was it? Repeat it to me." Mazruar's voice turned stern, demanding. "That I must not give up -- not with the tenth time, or the hundredth time, or the thousandth time." His voice steadied with the words. The anger and frustration in his expression eased a little. Mazruar nodded. "If you could not do this thing, I would know," he told him. "I would have told you long since if you had reached the end of your abilities and should be content. You are the most gifted pupil I have ever taught. You can do this thing, I know that you can. "The problem lies with your feelings. We need to do something about them at their source. You cannot feel shame at yourself and still be an Adept." The blond apprentice looked away even as he nodded his agreement. Mazruar put his hand on his shoulder again, and this time he left it there. Palin jerked up his own hand as if to brush off that touch - - but then he relaxed and just held Mazruar's hand, sighing, as more of the anger ebbed from him. "Palin, let us put this aside for now and go to my bed. I will comfort you." Mazruar's eyes softened with an expression of tenderness and invitation. "Afterward, we can discuss what next to do." Afterward, Mazruar sat cross-legged on the priceless sapphire-blue quilt covering the magnificent bed. The odors of aroused men -- his scent, Palin's -- still clung to that quilt; fortunately, it had been magicked to never need cleaning. Naked, the master mage was revealed as a trim, handsome man for all his years, with surprising muscle in his arms and legs and flat belly. To wizards, the body was another instrument, just like the mind and the soul; it had to be kept in good condition. He looked down on his equally naked apprentice and smiled as he admired the beauty of Palin's long hair spilled across the quilt, the golden perfection of his skin, the lithe muscles just underneath. He reached out to run his fingers through that magnificent hair, touched with pure gold by the light of the candles. Palin opened his eyes again and smiled, his face softened with the aftereffects of pleasure. "You are happy?" Mazruar asked him. Palin closed his eyes again, the image of contentment. "Yes. I am. Very happy." "Good, good." Mazruar's hand stroked. "You deserve to be happy." They stayed together like that a while, Mazruar sitting and stroking Palin's hair, Palin lying sprawled on his belly across the quilt like a cat. With some of his hair caressed to the side, it was possible to glimpse the black velvet collar around his neck that marked him as more than Mazruar's apprentice. He'd come to the older mage's attention for tutoring at the age of nineteen -- a student of magic with rare promise . . . and equally rare qualities of sexuality. It was the latter which had caused his first tutor to realize Mazruar was the mage best suited to instruct him. That had been two years ago. *What progress he's made since I accepted him*, Mazruar mused. Palin had been raised in Deshnar province; though there was no question where his desires lay, he'd been brought up to consider man-to-man love shameful -- let alone the very special sort of lovemaking he truly needed. It was vital that he get over that, break the chains of his upbringing. A Mage could not afford such foolish prejudices. It was impossible to attain any real skill in the magical arts while you were unjustly ashamed of any part of your soul. Shame rose up at the wrong times, diverted one's attention, made one feel unworthy of wielding the power -- and thus blocked the free flow of magic like debris choking a stream. And, as they both had discovered, much of the core of Palin's soul lay in his sexuality, his need to submit to a lover. It had taken their relationship a good two years to bloom and strengthen. In some ways it had been the most joyous of years for both of them; in others, it had been difficult and painful -- especially for Palin, but also for Mazruar. Teaching Palin to overcome the bonds of shame and guilt and accept his real desires had taken much gentleness, effort and patience -- indeed, the task was still far from finished. Mazruar had tried milder measures on this latest barrier, but the chains of shame held Palin too strongly. The blond apprentice had courage, but his bonds were too strong to break without goading. The master wizard put one hand on Palin's shoulder and gave it a gentle shake, making certain he had not fallen asleep. Palin opened his eyes again. Mazruar touched his collar with one finger -- the signal that he wished to shift into their master-slave relationship. Feeling that touch, Palin lifted his head to look at him, half-turning with an expression of curiosity in his eyes as he propped himself up on one elbow. "Master?" "Slave." He made the word not an insult but a caress, and was rewarded by the sudden warmth in Palin's eyes. "I remember the young neophyte you were when you accepted my invitation and entered this castle, knowing nothing except how to ground and center yourself and perform a simple meditation." He paused to slip a gentle hand around Palin's chin, holding his gaze. Palin remained silent, but his blue eyes turned serious as he realized where this was headed. "Do you remember how much you were a prisoner of shame, back then? How long it took before you could even bring yourself to serve me with your mouth? You've made such progress since then, and I know it was difficult for you." Palin closed his eyes, but a little smile touched his mouth. The tip of his tongue emerged to lick his upper lip, which he was probably unconscious of. Mazruar found the mannerism enchanting. "Oh, yes, I remember," Palin replied. "And I thank you -- Master." His eyes searched the older Adept's face. "Yes, you have overcome your shame and become wonderfully skilled at it -- and now it gives *you* pleasure as well, which is just as important." Mazruar stroked his chin with one thumb, offering his prot g a smile which Palin returned wholeheartedly. "And the joy you take in it is beautiful to watch. "It is not there that your performance is lacking now." He looked steadily into Palin's intent blue eyes. "It is, as we both know, in the matter of sodomy." Palin would have looked away had Mazruar's hand not still held his jaw firmly. He actually did blush, a soft pink suffusing his cheekbones. Mazruar suppressed a sigh and went on. "Oh, it's not that you show any reluctance to serve me -- or my servants, when I give you over to them. You follow orders without any hesitation at all. "The problem --" now Mazruar did sigh. "The problem is that you will not submit to your *own* desire. You are still ashamed to take pleasure in this act. Don't think I don't sense how you try to stifle your groans of pleasure when I take you from the rear. I can tell it arouses you; don't think I do not feel your manhood hard and dripping when I reach underneath you to touch it, or that I don't notice how, when you finally do forget shame, you push your hips back against me, wanting more of my own manhood. But you don't want to admit it, even to yourself. It is not that the act does not move you; it is that you are ashamed to show that it does. "Oh, yes, you can beg for it -- when I *command* you to. You even put on a convincing show. But when you do that, you lock your passion still deeper inside to keep from feeling it. And afterward, you are so humiliated that it is difficult for you to work magic for days afterward. "We must deal with this false modesty of yours, this unmerited shame. I do not want just your body -- I could send one of my servants to hire a doxy off the street if all I wished were a beautiful form. I want you to learn to give me your soul as well." Palin actually winced under his hand and swallowed hard, the blush spreading through his cheeks. "I know it is difficult for you. Believe me, Palin, I have looked into your mind and heart, and I know. But you are withholding a part of yourself. It not only displeases me; it hurts you as well. If you want to make progress in your other studies, you must learn to accept what you find in your own soul. "I am going to try something different to unleash that passion of yours, to free you. What I have in mind will be very difficult. You may well find it close to unbearable. But afterward, you will be the better for losing your shame." He could feel Palin's jaw clench under his fingers. The young blond man took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. Mazruar pushed on relentlessly. "Yes, once again I am going to put you through an ordeal, my sweet slave. Not a physically painful one, this time; but one you will probably find very humiliating, at least at first." Palin's eyes lowered, and then he pulled away, both from Mazruar's gaze and his gentle hand, to bury his burning face in the cover, clenching his fists in the blue satin. It was not in denial. It was more as if he were steeling himself. He took a deep breath, then another. Mazruar waited. Finally, Palin lifted his head to once again look into the elder wizard's eyes. "What would you have me do . . . Master?" Mazruar reached out again to stroke his golden hair back from his brow. The master wizard's own gray eyes were filled with sympathy. "Starting now, there will be a change. I'm taking you off all magical studies so that nothing will distract you; you will do common chores with the servants instead. "So far, I have permitted you to have your own orgasm whenever I gave you permission. I have teased you, or ordered others to, but I've never denied you for more than five days at a time. Beginning now, you will not be permitted your own pleasure until you have followed my orders to the letter. I will use the chastity spell to ensure that, so you need not worry about restraining yourself." Palin's eyes widened, but his gaze stayed unwaveringly on Mazruar's face. The master wizard nodded grimly, then continued. "I am going to hand you over to the servants once again, but there will be a difference. They will not approach you or order you, except to tease you. Instead, *you* must ask *them* to take you from behind. And they will have orders of their own as well -- that they refuse your plea unless you make it as convincing as possible. You will have to get down on your knees and beg, Palin. You must beg them to fuck you before they will even listen. And they will not allow you to persuade them easily. You may even have to lie down and grovel for it." Palin looked as if he'd been slapped. He jerked away to once again turn his shame-reddened face to the quilt, clenching his fists, and there was no missing the stark humiliation and fear there. His rib cage heaved, as if he were near tears. "I . . ." he drew a deep breath. "No, I c-can't . . ." His voice was muffled by the quilt. Mazruar put his hand lightly on the apprentice's shoulder again. "I am not finished, Palin." Palin looked up, swallowed visibly. Mazruar could see the mounting fear and shame in his reddened face. *Needless shame*, he thought, trying to keep his expression as reassuring as possible as he lightly massaged the shoulder, feeling tensed muscle underneath. *But he doesn't really understand that in his bones yet.* "Now, when they do take you, you are to turn loose your emotions, to show your passion in every way possible. And I do *not* want you to feign this -- believe me, each and every time, I will look into your mind afterward to see if you were. I want to see that you moaned and cried out, that you writhed with passion, that you begged shamelessly for more the entire time, that your cries waked half the castle. "Reach inside yourself, past that shame, Palin. Release that passion I know you have. Let everybody see it. "I will order them to be gentle with you. You know I pick my servants carefully. No one here would dream of judging you or despising you for your passion. "I want you to convince ten of the male servants here to use you in this fashion. And I want you to do so within the next five days. Do you understand me? Nod your head if you cannot speak." Palin's face was a study in humiliation and panic. His eyes were brimming, and as Mazruar watched, a tear slid down his cheek. After a long moment, the blond apprentice swallowed hard and tried to speak. Unable to, he finally nodded, once. Mazruar gently brushed the tear away and stroked his hair once before pulling his hand back and going on. "Now, if you fail *once* -- if you cannot beg convincingly enough, or if I am not satisfied with your submission to even *one* servant -- it does not matter if it is the ninth or even the tenth time -- you will begin all over again, and we will start the five days yet again. You will *not* be allowed to come until you have served the tenth servant and fulfilled my commands, no matter how long this should take. You will start over and over again, until you have accomplished this." "I -- I can't. I just can't -- please --" Palin was shaking his head. "There is no other way, Palin." Mazruar's voice was firm. Palin buried his face in the quilt again, tight-clenched fingers knotting the satin. His shoulders were shaking with open sobs now. "You can do this thing," Mazruar said softly, reassuringly, relentlessly. "It is in you. I know it is. I will not give up on you, unless . . . unless you give up on yourself and the path you have chosen." He leaned over the blond apprentice, reached out with both hands and began to rub Palin's shoulders softly as he wept. He made no effort to silence the sobs, letting his lover and slave deal with his emotions as best he could, with the decision that only he could make. It took a lot to make Palin cry, he reflected. The man had to be in torment; he seldom cried under the lash, even when being genuinely and harshly punished. Mazruar could only hope his love for him, and for the path of magic, would let him consent. Palin's apprenticeship here was entirely voluntary -- but if he couldn't master or accept himself, he couldn't master magic either. And that would be utter tragedy. He continued to quietly rub his shoulders, waiting as the soft sounds of Palin's sobs dwindled into silence. *I don't want to lose him*, he thought with a pang of quiet fear. In all his years he had never been so attached to an apprentice. But then, few wizards were blessed with an apprentice such as Palin. He smiled silently to himself at the thought. Finally, the blond apprentice lifted his face from the quilt and looked up at him. His cheeks were wet and shining with tears, but the sobs had ceased. Mazruar held his breath. "I -- I accept," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. Mazruar arched his eyebrows, waiting without a reply. "I accept your terms, Master," Palin said, more clearly this time. Mazruar nodded -- and permitted a gentle smile to grace his own lips. "Good," he said, and put out his hand again, fingers stroking the side of Palin's face, provoking an ever-so- faint ghost of a smile. "Now, there is one final condition: tomorrow morning, the servants will be gathered in the Great Hall. And *you yourself* are going to explain my orders to them -- while naked and kneeling before them." Panic and shame flashed across Palin's face again, but this time he clenched his jaw and would not look away. He said nothing. "I'll be right there beside you, of course -- I will not abandon you. I'll be happy to prompt you if you forget anything. But you *will* do it." Palin swallowed yet again, but this time his gaze remained steady. "I will obey you -- Master." A warm thrill of pride filled Mazruar's soul, and he reached down to embrace Palin, showing him his own feelings, his own love. "So be it," he said when the embrace ended. "Now, spread your legs, and I will apply the chastity spell . . ." Palin had to force himself not to look down at the soft rug under his knees. He *would* have tried to cover his face, but Mazruar had seized his wrists and was holding them behind his back in a gentle but firm grasp, forcing him to kneel, head up, while the humiliating tears ran down his face and the castle's servants looked upon his nakedness and listened. "Easy," Mazruar's voice soothed. "Take your time." Palin struggled with the lump in his throat, taking deep breaths, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control. His tears blurred the morning sunlight streaming through the Great Hall's windows, filling his eyes with sparkles. He kept his thighs straddled widely apart as Mazruar had taught him long ago, hips thrust forward. His master never tolerated his trying to conceal his genitals or his arousal. Even as the severity of his humiliation brought tears to his eyes, it gave him a fierce erection. The clothed servants watched him without a trace of scorn -- the same servants who had watched with delighted laughter and lust when he was punished in front of them, or who gleefully mocked and used him when Mazruar instructed them that such was permitted. The faces of several of the human servants even held expressions of sympathy, as if they would have loved to step forward to comfort him. But Mazruar had ordered them to listen in silence to Palin's halting words, and they did. He drew a shaky breath and continued, his voice growing stronger as he spoke. At long last he finished, adding the ritual words Mazruar insisted upon: "Use me, I beg of you, use me." He was amazed his voice didn't break on them. A moment later, his hands were released from behind him and Mazruar's hand was under his chin, caressing him before them all. "Well done, beloved pupil," the elder wizard said softly. Even through the anguish of his humiliation, Palin felt a warm thrill at the words. The hand left his chin, lightly ruffled his well-brushed golden hair. Long moments passed as the servants watched in silence. Someone coughed softly. Someone else shifted their weight from one foot to another. Mazruar's hand stroked his hair as Palin knelt with eyes closed, motionless, the lump in his throat gradually subsiding as his breathing steadied. *I can do this*, he told himself. *I must do this.* Then there was the feeling of a soft cloth against his face, stroking, drying his tears. He held still, letting his master care for him. The cloth finished patting his skin dry, retreated. Mazruar's voice broke the Hall's silence again. "I will give you a chance to begin here," he said. "Go ahead. Approach one of them. Now." Palin took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking around the silent half-circle of watching servants as his heart pounded in his chest. His gaze halted on Teril, a big, strapping man with a shock of coarse brown hair who worked in the stable. Teril had used him before; he could be rough, but he usually wasn't outright cruel. Sometimes he even gave Palin a massage, afterward. It would be Teril, he decided. He got up slowly, feeling his nakedness keenly, and walked toward the other man. When he reached him, he knelt and crossed his wrists behind his back again. He looked up into the man's blunt, friendly face. Teril's expression had changed from open sympathy to something else -- amusement, perhaps. Palin began, his voice still soft and uncertain at first. "Teril, please, fuck me . . . I beg you . . ." "That is not convincing enough, Palin," Mazruar's gentle, ruthless voice spoke from behind him. The lump in his throat threatened to rise again, and he had to push it down by main force as Teril looked down upon him and smiled. "Please . . . fuck me! Take me from behind, Teril. I need it so much . . ." He was able to persuade Teril to take him there on the floor before all the other servants and his watching master. But in the end he failed, his surrender too little to satisfy the older wizard. Afterward, Mazruar and even Teril held him gently and comforted him as he wept, but his tears were brief. It had been a beginning. Toward the end of the sex, as Teril had thrust to his own satisfaction inside him, his own moans were not feigned but heartfelt, his shame forgotten. He had glimpsed the way to freedom from the chains inside him. Direct comments and criticism to: maureen_lcn@spamless.yahoo.com . Flames ignored or laughed at, all constructive criticism gratefully accepted. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+