The ancient myths of the Brotherhood of the Midnight Pearl tell of an island formed from the depths of the ocean, in the midst of a sea of mystical, sapphire beauty. It is an island paradise built on love and devotion to a common belief, a society made up entirely of handsome and desirable men. And Alonzo Smith is on a journey to discover his place among them.
Here begins the path to Alonzo’s destiny. He enters this world as a newblood, a young man who will give his all in service to someone special. But just as Goldilocks sought the right bowl, the right chair, the perfect bed, so Alonzo is in search of the right master. And perhaps the right collar to embrace his neck.
Thus, upon arrival on the island, Alonzo’s sensual journey begins with service to Squire, and his introduction to the hierarchies, laws and boundaries of the Mannos Society of Men...
This story is a work of original fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.
This book remains the copyrighted property of the author.
Copyright 2017 by Adrianna Dane
Cover Art Designs by T. A. Gallup
This story was originally released in July 2011 by Amber Quill Press/Amber Allure
CAUTION: This story contains explicit sexual situations and strong language. You must be over the age of 18 years of age to read this story.
Brotherhood of the Midnight Pearl
Newblood Initiate
By Adrianna Dane
Dream Romantic Unlimited, LLC
Table of Contents
Man Isle Myth
The Arrival
Newbloods
Rite of Initiation
Author Bio
Networking Links
Man Isle Myth
It was a secret place, deeply buried among the many myths of the Bermuda Triangle. A mystical place, a haven for and of men.
Created by men.
It was a civilization without guilt for men loving men, emerging at a time when the world was not wise to the ways of passion. Worshipping the acts of desire founded through male love. It was a place without disease. Without judgment for the beauty of masculinity in all its splendorous forms.
It was a paradise once created, perhaps somewhat reminiscent of Amazonian female myth, risen from volcanic rock beneath the surface of the ocean. Some say it was founded by a group of exiled men who came upon it having been put to sea to die. But they did not die—they lived to find solace, comfort, and love in the arms of each other—a form of peace and acceptance unmatched anywhere in the known civilized world.
No one knew if it truly existed or not. It didn’t matter. Not really. The ideal of such a place was alone enough to shape a secret sect that spanned the globe in the civilized world. Ones who worshipped the precepts of a paradise known by various names as the Isle of Men—Mannos—the man isle, the clan of men, the man society, and to all it represented a haven to those who could not find their place easily in established society.
Thus, Alonzo Smith came to know and become acquainted with the Minolean Sect. It was a brotherhood of men who loved men and the idea of a paradise of acceptance and challenge unmatched anywhere else on earth. It was said the island also contained the pool of immortality. But any who might know the truth of it had sworn an oath of secrecy, never broken.
Laws were set down by which to live in peace amongst themselves. It was an island veiled from the rest of the world in a dimension safe from scrutiny and censure and it was said only a strong heart and honest mind could guide a man to its safe harbor. It was said to be a world protected by the spurned gods of an ancient culture, beyond knowledge of mortals.
It was said that the true civilization of El Dorado was to be found on the island. That the Man Isle was steeped in precious ores, a king’s glittering limitless treasure surrounded and protected by a lush, yet dangerous, tropical jungle.
But Alonzo Smith knew the island wasn’t merely a myth. He knew because he had been there, had worked and played and loved there. He had been a young man of twenty when he was offered the chance to travel to the island. He had joined the mainland Minolean Sect at the behest of his current secret lover at the time. When he had walked into that first meeting it was as though he had discovered his true purpose and calling, and from that point on he knew he must travel to the island, one way or the other.
It had been everything he heard about, everything he could have dreamed of. And in the end, he had lost it all because of his own weakness. On the island, when one broke the laws, there were only two choices—death or exile.
He had chosen exile. But exile for an immortal was a form of death in pure, hellish form. An anguish that never truly ended. Alonzo lived for the hope of redemption—to be forgiven by the only one who had that power over him to do so.
He had taken on the role of Acquisitor because there was no other choice, praying that one day paradise would be offered to him once again.
And until that day arrived, he dreamed of the paradise that was now lost to him and how it had all started.
The Arrival
Alonzo stared out at the vast blue sea. Never had he thought one could travel for so many days without sight of a speck of land. There were times when he began to wonder if he would ever walk on the solid earth again. He watched a flock of screaming gulls feed from the rolling surface of the sapphire waters. Wavelets flirted with the hull of the ship. The breeze flittered across his cheek like a lover’s touch. He closed his eyes and inhaled the clean, salty scent, drawing deeply into his lungs, and then he released the spent air. It wouldn’t be long now, perhaps a matter of hours before they finally would be in sight of the island he’d waited so long to see. A strong, callused hand settled heavily at his nape, lightly scraping his skin. It was a touch he recognized after so many weeks at sea. Alonzo did not flinch nor pull away, the intimacy of the man well known to him.
He’d certainly never expected to find a temporary lover aboard the vessel that carried him to his heart’s desire, but there it was, and he’d welcomed the dalliance to be sure. A man far different than his usual choice of lovers—older, unrefined, knowledgeable of the sea and its many secrets.
“Aye, the voyage will be done soon, boy. Yer, sure yer not wantin’ to be part of my crew? I’d treat you right, just as I have these many weeks I’ve had you for meself.”
Alonzo swung around to face the captain, a big man with thick, graying whiskers and heavy, bushy brows. He also recalled well the thick bush between his legs that Alonzo was now extremely familiar with. No, definitely not Alonzo’s usual sort of man. Maybe that’s what made the encounters all that more…exotic and earthy. So different from the captain, and the crew aboard this ship, Alonzo kept himself well trimmed. Even here on this ship he tended as best he could to his personal hygiene. Perhaps that’s why the captain had taken such a liking to him. He didn’t whine like some of the others he accompanied aboard this ship; he didn’t take to his cabin to sleep from boredom, or suffer from seasickness. He embraced every moment he spent aboard the ship as though he’d been born to it, learning each and every crevice, nuance of movement, deep dark corner. He’d helped in the galley, on the decks, mending sail, peeling potatoes, whatever the need and chance to learn. Sometimes with the captain as his guide, sometimes not. No man was ever more eager to expand his horizons than Alonzo Smith. No man more desirous to embrace adventure.
Th
e captain, just a head shorter than Alonzo in stature, drew him closer.
“Yer last night on board. Come to my cabin and we’ll discuss whether you might dally a bit longer aboard. With me.”
Alonzo gave the man his winningest smile. He played coy because he knew that’s what the captain liked best. His dark eyelashes swept downward, eyes focused on the deck as he answered the captain. “You tempt me, sir. You’ve been extremely good to me while I’ve been on board. Taught me much of the ways of the sea. And what I have to look forward to on the island. But, alas, I must be island-bound. I cannot be swayed in that regard. I think you know the way of it. You said yourself you spent many years there as a lad.”
The captain shrugged. Alonzo smelled the man’s salty sweat, scented the aroma of tobacco, mingled with the smell of exotic spices, perhaps from the cargo now residing in the hold of the ship. “Aye. Mayhap I spoke too kindly of the land. Too many fond memories steeped by rum. I didn’t think you’d be changing your mind, but thought I’d try. You’ll be a fine prize on the isle, mark my words. You’ll not want for attention, I’d bet you that. Have a care you don’t overplay the hand. Too cocky and you’ll find yerself back aboard the Starry Night and begging me to take on your service. Ah, then, one last night before you abandon me for a randy young buck’s Eden—at least for now.” The captain reached down to press a hand against the bulge in Alonzo’s trousers. “You know I’ll make it worth your time.”
Rum, a taste of cinnamon, and a fine hearty meal were likely in store for Alonzo. Followed by a fast hard fuck, one final taste of the captain’s short, fat cock, and then the captain and the Starry Night would be a memory tucked away for long lonely nights. Although he’d been assured there would be few of those on the island once past his initiation.
“More stories, sir?” The man’s stubby, thick fingers pressed against Alonzo’s rigid prick, foraging for his prize. He was certainly a lusty man, often sending for Alonzo more than once a ’tween sunrise and sunset to share a mug or two of rum…amongst other diversions. Always tempting the younger man with stories of sea monsters, or island ceremonies, or young virile mermen. And Alonzo was pleased to serve the most important man on this ship.
The sea voyage, though arduous and long, was not as boring as Alonzo thought it would be. The captain, having taken a liking to him, in the afterglow of lovemaking would often regale Alonzo with the traditions of the island, making him all the more eager to embrace the island life he had longed for on the mainland. Oh yes, Alonzo pleasured the captain well and enthusiastically. There was no one here to reproach him, to gaze at him aghast as he dropped to his knees to take the captain’s member into his mouth, fondling his testicles just the right way to make the old man hard. Never losing patience, always giving the man as much attention and time as need be. And he would give the wizened salt one more night of that passion before he bid his temporary mentor adieu.
A new day dawned bright and beautiful as they dropped anchor just beyond the coral reef that surrounded the island. Not only Alonzo, but six others drew to the rail to try to catch a glimpse of the men they’d traveled so far to see and to serve. Besides Alonzo there was David, Helmer, Krispin, Mallory, Parker, and Rudy. There had been others slated to sail with them, but had lost their nerve at the last moments, fear of the unknown unmanning them all too thoroughly. But not these seven. They all hung over the railing to watch a small light craft head out from the island. As it drew closer, Alonzo was taken by the sight of several deeply-tanned men, muscles taut, skin glistening with sweat, as they rowed toward the vessel and came even with the ship. Here to claim the arriving newbloods. Other boats would come later to unload the cargo in the hold. It was Alonzo who threw down the rope ladder, having learned his way around the ship early. Alonzo had bid the captain a fond farewell in his quarters in the early hours before dawn. The first to climb down into the waiting boat, he turned and signaled a last farewell to the captain, who stood on the upper deck, brass spyglass in hand. The captain raised a hand in salute.
Alonzo could barely remain still as they slowly made their way to the island. On the approach to land he caught sight of the rustic huts, looking more like slave huts he’d seen pictures of from the Caribbean Islands when he was in his studies at university. He knew he would be assigned to one of them. Once landed, the newbloods, for he would be one of the lowest in the hierarchy of men, who were known only by that title, would be met by the men they would serve in the coming months and, at that point, he would no longer be his own man. With no ranking whatsoever, and segregated from the civilization of Mannos proper, he would be required to prove himself worthy of formal entrance into the society. No man would speak to him, or acknowledge his existence—except for his mentor and the other newbloods. He was nothing until he completed the trials set before him.
The new arrivals were met on the rustic landing by several handsome young men wearing beaded collars and loincloths. One of them broke from the others and came for Alonzo.
“Name?” he asked, pencil poised over a blank sheet in the journal book he carried.
“Alonzo Smith.”
The man turned his attention to the book. “Height? Weight? Illnesses?”
Alonzo saw him squint up at the sun, then back to the book, noting down a time. Alonzo relayed his measurements and the fact he’d had no serious illnesses on the mainland. Of course, before departing on this voyage he’d been required to undergo a complete and rigorous physical examination. Even a psychological assessment that drew more from him than he ever thought he’d kept buried deep inside. So he had a feeling this process amounted to mere formality. Perhaps to put him in his place as the lowest of the rank. No matter, he would rise to the occasion—he was determined to become a fully blooded member of this elite society no matter what he had to do to make it happen. No matter who or how he was commanded to serve.
The handsome squire closed the book with a snap and turned his attention to Alonzo. “Newblood. That’s what you’ll be called until you’ve proven yourself…or hightailed it back to that ship out there to be returned to the mainland. You’ll be assigned to Hut 4 and it’s your responsibility to keep your lodgings immaculate. Whether you eat, sleep, or work, and what schedule you are to follow will be at my discretion. You will address me as Squire, as you will do for each of the others assigned to school you newbloods. And you’ll offer each of us the respect you would give to any man of consequence on the mainland. You will follow my orders to the letter. Are we clear?”
“Yes…Squire.” Alonzo knew from studying the hierarchy, the man in front of him had likely only recently risen to sixth level, that of squires and initiates. His beaded collar, looking blindingly white when it shifted showed little marked difference in tan above and beneath the collar. If he’d held his position for a sufficient time there would be a much more obvious difference in the coloration of his skin. If service to this squire represented a rung up the ladder that Alonzo must climb, then he would do whatever this man ordered.
“Follow me and we’ll get you settled in.”
This was it—no turning back. In four weeks the ship would set sail for the mainland. Some of those among them would return with it. Alonzo vowed he would not be one of them. His destiny was here on Mannos, the island of men, and he would prove himself worthy of inclusion within such an esteemed society.
He turned his back on the water, on the ship that brought him here, and the randy captain was already but a fading sweet memory.
Newbloods
The huts were tiny, but sturdy. They reminded Alonzo a bit of that fairy tale his mother used to tell him when he was a little boy. She had been the housekeeper for a great lord and she often borrowed a book from the library and read to him before he went to sleep. The Three Pigs was a favorite, with their houses of mud, and cabbage, and brick. These small huts seemed a combination of the mud and the brick, with thatched roofs of straw, and straw mats inside to sleep upon. A sturdy bleached-white structure, solid enough to fend o
ff the sea winds. To enter through the open doorway one must duck down, and the windows inside were small, resting just beneath the eaves and offering some measure of breeze and light. Yet at the end of the day the air turned dense and stifling. The huts were little more than accommodation for sleep and some slight protection from storms, but offered little comfort beyond those basics.
The position of newblood represented a situation resembling slave labor in a more unenlightened civilization. Newbloods were afforded no rights in the Society of Men. Those must be earned through hard work and attention to studies of the ways of Men. There were laws that afforded humane treatment, but beyond that the seventh level of the Brotherhood was meant to wean out the weak, strengthen and educate the strong, and establish the nature of community among men. Alonzo found himself thinking of Dumas’s novel, The Three Musketeers, and the motto of “all for one and one for all.” In this society no single individual’s wants was more important than the whole. And yet the whole was no more important than the individual. Each held their place, each served the community, each earned the respect of the whole and offered respect in return. The community nurtured the whole and made them strong. This was a foundation that was hammered into the newbloods each and every day. If one received punishment, they all received a measure of punishment. If one received reward, they all shared in that reward. And thus camaraderie was established. A certain way of life drilled into the newbloods.
During the ensuing six months of hard work and even harder play, together with the minimalist living in the thatched huts, Alonzo came to love Squire, worshipping every word from his lips, honoring every rise of his cock, embracing every discipline, be it by hand or switch. He held a true admiration for his mentor and master, coming to understand the deprivations and challenges Squire had survived in order to rise to the level of squire. Two of their newblood number had succumbed early on, returning to the ship. Rudy and Mallory had not been able to handle the hardships required. Alonzo was sad to see them go, for they had become friends. They had known that all of them would not be well suited for the rigors of island life. Rudy could not accept his subordinate role to another. Mallory succumbed to the exhaustion of toil in the fields and on the farms. Each, for different reasons, chose to return to the mainland.
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