Date: Tue, 23 Nov 2004 23:44:11 -0800
From: the.satyr@gmail.com
Subject: Stag God is Born, Chap 6-7

This story is (c) The Oaken Satyr, 2004

A Stag God is Born
   - A Tale of Old Gods
++++++++++++++++++
Chapter Six

"So, are you going to tell me how you knew about the blue tattoos? And
the antlers?"

"I never mentioned anything about antlers," the old warrior orc said,
smiling. It was very late at night and Bragg wasn't at the guard post.
Instead, he'd had to clumsily offer his sexual services to Jathis, who
wasn't interested in some boy-whore (as he'd said), but did settle for
money.

Ashlan came here just after his uncle left his room, Artemi's seed
still thick in his ass -- Imbru could smell it. He could also smell that
the boy hadn't orgasmed, either. His musk was still ripe with unspilled
semen.

"You were going to -- I know it. You know about the dreams, don't you?"
Ashlan demanded. His eyes were bloodshot, his face still wet with tears
and he was hot with fever. He always became like this after a fuck.

"Yes, I do."

"How do you know about them? Have you had them?" The orc laughed at the
boy's question, shaking his head. The boy was uncomfortably close;
Imbru could feel the heat off the boy's skin. That, mixed with the musk
the boy was putting off was doing something to Imbru -- already, his
cock was beginning to thicken.

"No. We know of them, though. They are a sign that we carefully watch
for in our young, for the coming of the Stag God." Ashlan leaned in,
very close to the orc.

"The...the Stag God?"

"Aye, the Stag God. You won't hear anything from me about his rites and
his prayers, because he is beyond all of that. Not for him are the
ordered worships of men -- his worship is in the cry of the hunt and the
splash of blood and the spill of seed. Your dreams...they are a sign. His
time is come again. You dream of running in the primal forest, naked,
hot loins rampant, scenting for the smell of sex and death, antlers
heavy on your head."

Ashlan pushed himself away, shaking his head. He was the son of a
patriarch in the High Church. What did the savage, naked gods of the
orcs have to do with him?

"Enough," Imbru barked, scenting the air. "Someone is coming."

Scant moments later, the door of the cell swung open, framing the form
of his uncle and two guards. Artemi looked at the boy and then the orc,
his mind creating perverse scenarios all without prompting.

"Ashlan. Come with me. Guards -- take the greenskin."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Chapter Seven

Imbru snarled as he was thrown to the floor at the foot of Artemi's bed
by the guards, who waited for further instructions. Ashlan's uncle
snapped at them to wait outside -- he could more than handle a shackled
greenskin. They snapped a smart salute and left the room, closing the
door behind them. One of them, Namish, looked at him and wrinkled his
nose in disgust at the implied intimacy between the merchant prince's
nephew and the filthy orc.

If those bastards only knew, thought Ashlan.

"Ashlan, come here," his uncle snapped at him. The boy raised his eyes
defiantly to his uncle, who was looking down at Imbru. Artemi glanced
up and then did a double-take when he saw the rebellion in the boy's
face. With a quick stride, he dropped the manacle chains of the orc and
crossed to his nephew.

Ashlan had just enough time to throw up his hands before his uncle
slapped him once, twice and three times. The last was enough to shove
him against the wall, where Artemi snatched him upright by the front of
his tunic and dragged him over to the bed.

Ashlan tasted blood.

"Filthy little bastard," his uncle snarled as he pulled him towards the
bed. "You have a lot of nerve, Ashlan. Your hole is mine, boy -- don't I
give you enough cock, that you have to go sniffing around a filthy orc,
eh?"

Imbru was crouched, his legs ready to spring him into motion, the chain
of his manacles drawn into his fist. His black glittering eyes watched
the mad uncle rant.

Artemi struck the boy in the belly, like the sound of a cudgel hitting
a side of beef. Ashlan gasped as his breath was driven from his body,
and he slumped in his uncle's arms. Artemi looked into the boy's face,
now welling with tears and white from pain and drove him to his knees.
In short order, Artemi had fished his cock -- raging hard and blood red
-- from his breeches and shoved them between Ashlan's lips.

Imbru closed his eyes and grimaced.

That scarlet lust came over the boy, as it always did, no matter how
degrading the treatment, and soon he was worshipping Artemi's cock with
tongue and lips and throat. He swallowed the man's thick cock, his jaws
stretched wide, occasionally choking and pulling away from his uncle's
crotch, only to dive right back onto the spit-slicked member after a
gasp of air.

Artemi shoved the boy face-down on the ground and ripped away his
breeches, revealing his white ass. He spat in his hand and shoved a
pair of fingers up the boy's hot, twitching ass. Ashlan gasped in pain
at the burning intrusion, but still shoved his hips back to meet the
invasion. Artemi knelt and, in one fell swoop, shoved his cock into the
boy's ass, reaching up to grind Ashlan's face into the hardwood floor.
The ripping sensation from the only-barely slickened rape-entry was
more than he could bear, and Ashlan would have screamed but for his
uncle's hand half-shoved into his mouth.

Instead, he bit down, drawing blood. Artemi growled in pain and punched
his hips forward once, twice, driving his hard cock painfully into
Ashlan's ravaged hole. Ashlan whimpered and Artemi threw his weight
atop the boy, driving him to the hard floor and then held him there.
His uncle sank his teeth into the boy's white shoulder and then held
on, gripping him tightly as he came deep in the boy's bowels.

The two lay there, Artemi breathing heavily, and Ashlan limp against
the hardwood floor, weeping quietly. Artemi rose and regarded the boy.
Suddenly, his meaty hand flashed down and seized him by the ankles, and
dragged him across the room, dropping him like a hunk of meat onto the
floor in front of Imbru.

The orc could smell the boy's musk, and the seed deep in his ass, and
his own cock rose at the scent-invitation.

"Do it," Artemi said, his voice all silk and razor-threat. "I can see
your cock through your loincloth, Imbru. You can't have him without my
knowledge, but his ass was still very tight. You've never laid your
cock in him -- so I want you to, right now. Do it."

Imbru looked down at the boy, who bore that tantalizing visage -- one
that was equal parts lust and fear. He looked up at his human master,
grinning a toothy grin. Very well, if this is what the merchant prince
wanted...

He grabbed Ashlan's ankles in his huge, meaty fists and raised the
boy's asshole level with his massive cock. He slipped one hand under
the boy's ass, holding him aloft by his rounded buttocks, while
grasping the base of his fat cock. He pressed the dark, purple head of
his turgid cock against the brutalized opening of Ashlan's hole and
looked up at Artemi, who watched this scene unfolding with widened eyes
and a new thickening of his cock.

"Does master wish to watch me?" Imbru asked in that slavish grunt
Artemi was accustomed to. The man nodded, his eyes transfixed on the
thick cock at the entrance of his nephew's ass, ready to skewer the boy
upon its length. He moved closer to the view.

So intent was his gaze that he was taken completely by surprised when
the orc leapt to his feet, his manacled arms slipping away from
Ashlan's body and into a brutal arc aimed at Artemi's temple. The
merchant prince gave not even a squeak as the orc struck true,
crumpling him to the ground.
Imbru looked down at Ashlan, who gazed up at him with wide, fearful
eyes.

"You have to go, boy. You must leave this place."

"What? Why? You hit him, Imbru! They'll kill you!"

"They might, yes, but I don't think so. Your uncle treasures his pet
orc cock too much, I think. But he will turn you into his toy, Ashlan.
And you will never know your destiny."

"No. I don't know what you're talking about -- it doesn't make any
sense. Where would I go -- why would I leave?"

"Listen to me!" Imbru grasped Ashlan's upper arms and hauled the boy to
his feet. "Listen carefully."

He smoothed the boy's hair out of the way and lay his thick, calloused
fingers -- strangely gentle, as though he handled a thing made of silk
and porcelain -- upon the bumps above Ashlan's temple that he knew he
would find there.

"There," he said, his voice losing its anger. "Do you feel that? And
this one, here on the other side? Soon, your antlers will begin to bud,
Ashlan. Soon, they will break through the flesh there and begin to
grow. Your muscles will begin to thicken and lengthen mightily and your
very bones grow. You will tower over even me when the Cycle is done,
but you are only in the very Spring of the Stag God's Wheel, a young
buck who can barely stand and doesn't understand what is happening to
him.

"You are chosen by the Stag God, Ashlan -- I don't know why. But I am
not the only one who knows these signs. Your priests have old records
of the champions of the orc peoples, and they will know you as an
abomination. You began to change when first your body took in the seed
of one who overbore you, and it uses that seed to change you. You will
grow mighty, having taken the strength from others where you could. If
you had been born among the tribes, you would have been placed in a
sacred cavern, and the mightiest warriors would have warred with one
another to grace your bedfurs at night, until their seed burnt up
within you and you emerged a mighty warrior of the tribe.

"They would have bedded you for as long as they could overpower you --
in the last days of your transformation, they would have entered the
cavern a few at a time in order to have the strength among them to hold
you down. But in the end, you would overpower those who dared your
cavern, and you would have strengthened them with your seed.

"But you must go among the tribes now. They will be afraid and angry,
and some of them may try to kill you. But you are the chosen of the
Stag God, Ashlan. There is no denying it, and if you stay here, your
urges will drive you mad -- but only if you are not killed first by
those of the priesthood who know the antlers upon your head for what
they are."

Ashlan was shaking his head, nearly delirious with fear and terror, his
hands clapped to the small, bony protrusions on his head.

"I can't. I won't...Imbru, I don't..."

"No. If you do not do this, I will take you into my arms right now, and
I will flee the compound with you. I will likely die in the attempt,
and you will likely be taken back, though I will hope that the smell of
blood and my death will speak to the Stag God within you and you will
flee. I will do this, unless you flee of your own accord."

"They won't let me go..."

"They will. You will run out of this room right now, crying for help.
They will drag me to the ground and beat me, but will not kill me
without the master's permission. By the time they realize you are gone,
it will be far too late."

"What will I do? Where will I go."

"Into the woods. Go there -- listen to the voice within you. The one
that has been hungering for the seed of every man you run across. This
voice is His voice. The woods are his domain. Listen to it -- learn to
hide there, to find food there. Follow it into the orc domains, and do
not run afoul of men again, Ashlan. They will hate you."

The silence between them was heavy. Eventually, it was broken by the
groan of Artemi. They both looked at his unconscious, bruised form and
then back at one another. Heavy tears welled up in Ashlan's eyes and
coursed down his face. Imbru reached up and lifted his chin, wiping
away a tear with his black-nailed thumb.

"Go."

Ashlan stopped in the doorway, his hand on the doorlatch. He turned
back to look at Imbru, who moved into a crouch over Artemi. The boy
looked at him, the concern plain on his face.

"I said go, boy. Now."

"I'll be back, Imbru."

"I know you will be, Holy One. The faster you leave, the sooner you may
return for me." Ashlan nodded then and opened the door.

The door closed heavily behind the boy, its thump muted by his cry for
the guards.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
As usual, comments and feedback greatly welcomed. Thanks to all those
who commented on the first couple of chapters, and hope to hear from
you guys
again.

Regards,
The Satyr
the.satyr@gmail.com