Kovan twisted and strained, trying as hard as he could to free himself from Baraks tightening hold, his picture of himself as victor fading quickly. But his dream the night before had been a True Dream; he was sure of it. The dream Barak had yielded after a brief, intense grappling, and then Kovan had administered the Instruction in Humility and claimed Barak as Servant for the coming year. Kovan knew he was meant to be the Master of the Hunt, and the dream had confirmed it. How could this morning be so different from his dream? Was Barak using sorcery?
A moment earlier Kovan had nearly triumphed, but Barak had broken Kovans hold, flipped the startled lad over and forced one arm behind his back while reaching for Kovans free arm. Barak was within a hairs breadth of winning! Kovan had seen him wrestle many times before, and though Barak was strong, Kovan had the true skill. Just as in hunting and tracking and fire dancing and every other manly pursuit. It all came easily for him.
"No!" Kovan gasped, as Barak gripped Kovans free arm, dragging it behind the pinned lad and forcing Kovans wrists together. Kovan made a last, mighty effort to free himself, arching his body up in an attempt to roll Barak over so Kovan could be on top. But it didnt work. Kovan bucked a bit, but remained in Baraks control, his arms held tightly behind him. Turning his face to the side, Kovan glanced up at some of the watching men. To his dismay he saw more expressions of delight than sympathy.
"Throw me the Securing Bands," Barak said, his deep voice ringing out in triumph, despite his slightly ragged breathing. "Kovan is now the Servant!"
Kovan shut his eyes and released his pent up breath as Barak secured the defeated young mans wrists together with the leather bands. He wanted to yell his denial of this moment to every ear, but honor and tradition demanded silence. Believing only in his success, he had wasted no thought on the consequences of losing
"Here is the Stool of Instruction, Barak. Your challenger is justly at your mercy." These words were spoken by a grey-haired man, clearly older than the other men but possessing an impressive physique and radiating a quiet authority.
"Thank you, my Chief," Barak said, with respect, as the tribes leader placed the three-legged stool nearby. The stool was intricately carved with runes and symbols and was clearly a sacred object. Kovan nearly wept with frustration and humiliation as the picture of what was to come formed vividly in his mind.
Barak rolled Kovan over and began untying the cords that secured Kovans breeches at his waist. Kovan could no longer pretend that he would be spared the Instruction in Humility. As Barak pushed Kovans breeches down past his muscled thighs, Kovan felt the cool air on his partially erect _c_o_c_k_. He was not embarrassed about that, of course, as the wrestling horseplay the young men engaged in frequently resulted in erections. But the real challenge to his dignity now began. It was the work of a moment for Barak to lift Kovan up off the ground and settle him across his lap, having seated himself on the Stool of Instruction. Barak shifted Kovan forward slightly so that the humiliated lads bared bottom was raised and prominent, his ass cheeks milky white and smooth. Since the men had wrestled clad only in breeches, Kovans pale buttocks were a startling contrast to his lithe, sun-bronzed torso. His hardening _c_o_c_k_ swung loose between Baraks thighs until Barak reached around with his left hand and grasped Kovans stiff member. Then Barak raised his right hand high into the air in the time-honored manner decreed by the ritual and spoke the required words, "May the fire I ignite on your buttocks sear true humility into your soul."
SMACK! The sound of Baraks hard hand as it struck Kovans naked and fully exposed ass was like a thunderclap. Kovan, thinking he was prepared, jerked in surprise, reacting to the sharp sting on his buttocks as well as to the warm, firm grip Barak had on Kovans now fully erect penis.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Barak continued his steady, measured assault on Kovans quivering buttocks, while arousing Kovan further by massaging the lads exquisitely sensitive shaft. Kovan tried desperately to concentrate on the burning sensation spreading across his bottom as Baraks hand rose and fell in a mighty rhythm, each slap coloring Kovans ass an ever deeper red . Kovan hazily realized that he needed to exert every bit of self control to avoid ejaculating while receiving his spanking from Barak as Master. If he spilled his seed during his ritual spanking, then he was obliged to make the Gesture of Complete Submission in public to honor Baraks skillful administering of the Instruction in Humility and his equally adept Milking of the Servant. But Baraks rubbing and gripping and pulling and stroking of Kovans rock-hard _c_o_c_k_ as he spanked and spanked and spanked was driving Kovan to the edge. The stinging pain on his backside and the heightening pleasure from his _c_o_c_k_ merged into one consuming and agreeable torment, and Kovan lost control and erupted across Baraks lap. He had never experienced such an intense climax. Glistening white fluid spurted from Kovans penis in great ropy streams, splattering Baraks legs and the stool and the ground even as Baraks hand continued to rise and fall, delivering spank after mighty spank to Kovans blisteringly hot buttocks. Eventually the vigor and volume of his ejaculation lessened, and his body stilled, completely spent, while Baraks warm hand rested on Kovans glowing bottom. Kovan knew he had been well and truly milked and well and truly spanked, and he also knew what must follow.
"All right, my young stallion," Barak said quietly to the chastened lad lying across his lap. "It is time to make the Gesture." Barak helped Kovan off his lap and into a kneeling position. Barak then stood up and bent over Kovan to release the bands securing Kovans wrists. Kovans head was forced against Baraks crotch as the big man leaned over to free Kovans hands, and Baraks _c_o_c_k_, bulging in his breeches, was momentarily pressed against Kovans face. Kovan swallowed, realizing that the Gesture of Complete Submission was going to require a very relaxed jaw. Kovan prayed fervently that he could keep his hands at his sides and not inadvertently commit himself to providing the Gesture to every man assembled for this rite. Surely he could manage to do only what was necessary despite his earlier loss of control.
Kovans hands were now free and he lightly grasped his thighs, hoping the contact would remind him to keep them there. Barak untied his own breeches and then pushed them down, freeing his erect penis to swing forward and lodge against Kovans lips. This was the sign for Kovan to make the Gesture, so he opened his mouth wide and took as much of Baraks swollen tool into his throat as he could. It was his duty to bring the Master of the Hunt to climax and to drink the Blessed Milk that Barak would produce. Since Barak had so skillfully milked him during his spanking, tradition decreed that he milk Barak in turn, but in the manner appropriate to the Servant. Though this was not what Kovan had planned on, he respected the traditions of his tribe too much to refuse to follow them. But a surprised Kovan discovered that the Gesture was more enjoyable than not. As he tasted Baraks rigid _c_o_c_k_, his tongue bathing the silky hardness and his nostrils filled with the heady scent of the big mans crotch, Kovan forgot that the other men were watching and commenting. He even forgot his shame at his defeat. Without realizing it, he brought his hands up and grasped Baraks hips to make it easier to move his head back and forth and use his mouth and throat as he wanted. Absorbed in his task, he barely heard the gasps and exclamations of delight from the watching men as they saw him forget himself in his enthusiastic performance of the Gesture.
Kovan did not see the pleased grin that spread across Baraks face when he reached up and grabbed Baraks hips, but he could feel his Masters big hands on his bobbing head, gently guiding him as he continued to suck and slurp on Baraks _c_o_c_k_. At the back of his throat, Kovan tasted the salty, warm fluid leaking out of Baraks penis, signaling that the Masters Milk would soon pour into his mouth and throat. Suddenly, Kovan felt Baraks grip on his head tighten and he heard a throaty gasp of pleasure as Barak came, flooding his mouth with the warm, creamy Milk. Kovan gamely tried to swallow the river of come, but some dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin. Eventually, Barak slowed and then withdrew his _c_o_c_k_ from Kovans mouth.
"Well done, good and faithful Servant," Barak said, a thread of glistening come still hanging from his relaxing penis. "You may rise," he continued, as he pulled his breeches up and knotted the cords at his waist.
Kovan stood, making no effort to pull up his breeches, as the next stage of his induction as Servant followed. The man who had held the position of Servant for the previous year came forward at this point with a thin, sharp blade and proceeded to cut out ragged holes in the seat of Kovans breeches. Then Kovan was allowed to pull them up and tie the cords at his waist. His ass cheeks, still a vibrant pink from his Instruction, were fully exposed, as they would be for as long as he was Servant. His other breeches would be altered similarly but less raggedly, a task which was his to accomplish.
"You have demonstrated that you embrace the duties of the Servant, and have indicated your eagerness to serve your tribal brothers, not merely the Master," Barak said, addressing not only Kovan, but the assembled men as well. "Until sundown you are free to serve your brothers at their request and to submit to any further Instruction they may choose to give. I will wait for you at my tent at dusk for the Sheathing."
It was a much humbled Kovan who presented himself that night at the Tent of the Master. But it was a wiser Kovan as well, for he now understood the reason and purpose behind the Servants duties. Having been spanked by each of the other men, and having taken each of them into his mouth and drunk their Milk, he realized he was connected to his tribal brothers in a way he would never have imagined. He had begun the morning a brash young man, favored with physical superiority and rather arrogant because of it. As the day ended he understood how unimportant that superiority was, for he knew each of the men, their personalities, and their physical being in a remarkably direct and intimate way. For the first time he understood why every respected Chief had once been a Servant.
A little while later, his legs up in the air and braced against Baraks broad shoulders, he became the Sheath for the Masters Dagger. He gasped aloud from the fire inside as his anus stretched to accommodate Baraks thick member, lubricated as it was with the sacred oil. But soon, as Barak began the rhythmic thrusting, unexpected waves of pleasure spread outward from Kovans rectum as the sweet, steady battering continued. Finally, Baraks thrusts came faster and faster while Kovan cried out in feverish bliss as he climaxed, spewing his own creamy fluid over his stomach and chest. In a moment, Barak groaned loudly and found his own intense release in his Servants receptive bowels.
"Master, may I ask a question," Kovan said, as the two men lay together on Baraks great bed following the Sheathing, the Servant on his stomach, as his buttocks ached and stung from the numerous spankings he had received that day.
"You may, my young stallion," Barak answered, lying on his side and stroking Kovans neck, shoulders and back, his hand lightly drifting over Kovans flaming bottom.
"Did you use sorcery today, Master? I dreamed a True Dream last night; I know I did. And I won and became the Master. How could I become such a willing Servant?" Kovans face revealed how puzzled he was, though contentment was there as well.
"I needed no sorcery, Kovan," Barak replied, lowering his head and brushing his lips against Kovans ear. "Your own true desire and need were all that was required. And remember, every year the Master is challenged. Who knows what may happen a year from now? Or maybe the year after that? You may yet be the Master and I the Servant . . . but for now, you are mine!" With that, Barak pushed Kovan over on his back and Kovans gasp as his bruised backside pressed against the bed was quickly smothered by Baraks mouth in a long and passionate kiss.
THE END