by Sy Walker
The pain had stopped for the young man. He could only feel a tugging at his back as the braided leather ran across it. The buzzing in his ears was drowning out the jeers of the crowd, but he could feel the strained vibrations of screams coming from his own throat. When the fetters were removed and circulation returned to his body the stabbing pain coursed through his body. The convicted man was tossed into a wagon. William could feel the clacking of the cobblestone road on the wooden wheels and he could focus on nothing else…until.
“EEEWWW!” It was woman’s voice old and shrill, and it sent shivers down William’s spine. Cold, brown water splashed across William’s back. He could feel the tiny scratches and long-running cuts that criss-crossed his skin. The stinging wetness was unbearably painful. Where am I? William wondered, but it quickly became all too clear. The dungeons under Ulva Castle had always had the same peculiar smell. I would have a better chance if they just left me in the square. William knew that the chances of surviving a lengthy term in a dungeon cell were small.
Most of the prisoners died after only a few weeks. The conditions were cramped, damp, and dark. He seemed to be alone. As William sat up he realized that he had been left exactly as he had been on the scaffold. He peeled off the sleeves that were the only pieces of his night gown that remained. He had a light woolen blanket to cover his dignity, if it could be said that I still had any, William thought.
“Grrrrr,” The low guttural noise brought William back to the moment. He remembered the scream. He was not alone in the dungeon. The room was grey and sullen as William searched for the owner of the mop and bucket that now lay discarded in the middle of the room. Instead he found two golden eyes.
Gliding easily out of the darkened corner of the cell, William was hoping to see one of his father’s hounds, but this was much too big. The grey wolf was three stones larger than any dog in the Stewart kennels. The fangs were covered in a thick layer of spittle that was dripping as the lanky beast loped forward. William still felt weak and nauseous as he turned to flee, forgetting that he was trapped inside a small cell. The stars flew before his eyes as the cold stone wall pressed up against his face. William felt the ground coming toward him.
“He is getting better, but he will need several days before he will start moving around again.” It was a strange voice. Clearly high born, he spoke as eloquently as William, but the young lord knew every nobleman for a hundred miles at least. Strong hands rubbed salve into his aching wounds. Then William heard a voice he recognized.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” It was Fingon. “I’m Milord’s Justice, I can’t disobey an order.” Fingon had grown up with William. This Captain of the Guard had taken over the position from his father. The two young men grew up as best friends. William wasn’t mad at his friend. He knew where the blame for his condition lied.
As William was being led up to the scaffolds and tied into the wooden crossbar he thought about the first time he and Fingon had seen that very same implement being built in the castle yard. “We have a buggerer to punish,” Yarwick the Lord Stewart’s personal attendant. The boys had spent the rest of the day asking people what a buggerer was, and why they were being punished?
It was a stable boy who finally told them, “No!” Fingon looked shocked.
“Stuck it right in there,” The common boy was fingering his right hand as a demonstration. 111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 Fingon and William were laughing and pushing each other as they ran back to the Ulva Castle grounds.
They always wrestled, “As boys do,” William could still hear his father saying, but that day it took on a new twist. At first it was playful, the boys were poking at each other in mockery of the stable boys actions. Just hitting each other’s chests, then William stuck a finger in Fingon’s mouth. The larger boy let the finger stay there for a moment, closing his golden brown eyes, and even licked at the finger a bit.
William pulled his finger back blushing. He pushed his blonde hair back out of his face. Both boys’ faces were red from embarrassment. Fingon looked at the ground his long brown hair obscuring his eyes. “It’s okay, I just...” William tried to say, but Fingon had tackled him to the ground. William was better with a sword, bow, and lance. Fingon could not compare to his higher born counterpart in those contests, but in wrestling he had the edge. The boys rolled about grinding into each other. This time as with all of their wrestling bouts, William was always the one who was pinned in the end. It was years before they got passed that stage, but that is where their affair had started.
“If you don’t stop his father, then there is no real point to helping him.” The stranger was gently laying bandages on the wounds across William’s back. William was breathing deeply as he tried to maintain the illusion of sleep. He was not mad at his friend, but he couldn’t face him like this. Luckily for William, Fingon bowed and walked out of the dungeons. “You can stop pretending, he’s gone.”
“What?” William said trying to act like he was sleepily rising, but as he sat up the blood rushed to his head and he got very dizzy.
“Oh, sorry, I noticed that you woke up a few minutes ago,” The stranger was standing by the window and the light was making it hard for William’s eyes to focus. “I just assumed you didn’t want to talk to the Lord’s Justice at this point in your recovery.”
William was half listening as he slowly began to realize that he didn’t even feel that bad. His back felt great and the head rush had filled him with energy. “What did you do to me?”
“I applied salve,” The stranger was smiling with his silver-blue eyes. “You have to seem sick though, as they aren’t quite finished with your punishment.” William who was feeling his own muscles spun his head around quickly. “Your father isn’t a nice man.” A creaky door swung wide as a strong hand guided William back under the covers. “Lay still,” whispered in his ear. William could feel the sensation running all the way down his back.
“Lord Buggerer,” Grimy barked as he entered the dungeons with his mute guard, Yeost. The castle jailer had been named Grimwauld at birth, but no one ever bothered to finish. The nickname seemed to suit the dirty, lice ridden, shirtless jailer. “Or should I say Lord Buggerer, which end do you like it in?” The filthy old man laughed, “I guess we’ll see soon enough.” Grimy was nudging Yeost so hard it looked like he was going to break through his ribs. Yeost’s entire body shook, but no sound came out.
William wanted to respond, but a firm hand on his shoulder and a kind look from the stranger helped the former nobleman stay calm. His long auburn hair draped over his shoulder and hid their faces from the round jailer. “Breathe easy,” was all that he said as he started changing the bandages again. William couldn’t feel the cuts anymore. Since he had sat up all the pain had gone away. William focused on that as Grimy continued to mock him.
“ZZZZZZZZ,” the sound filled the dungeons. Yeost had fallen asleep first. His head rested on Grimy’s shoulder. The pair of guards had snuggled up on an old wooden bench. It is no better than the accommodations inside the cell, William thought to himself.
“How do you feel?” The stranger asked as he bent down to help William up.
“I don’t need any help,” William said as he let the man help him anyway, “The hardest part has been pretending to not feel well.” The young nobleman could feel his guts rumbling, “I haven’t eaten anything since before the flogging. What is your name?”
“Simply, James.”
“I have been feeding you periodically,” James said, “When you were conscious enough for you to swallow. I did most of the chewing for you.” James playfully used his hands to mash William’s jaws. His hands were rough, with long, muscular fingers. William could feel blood rushing to his cheeks. He lowered his eyes he could feel the other man’s eyes on him.
“Ack!” William grabbed at his own arms and curled up into a ball. Muscle spasms were exploding all over his body. He tried to curl up, but James was pushing him back into the bed.
The larger man ran his hands down William’s legs and unclasped his arms. He spoke in a soothing tone.
“It is just the medicine doing its job.” William could feel the words throughout his body. It was strange, but it felt like he was under James’ spell. “Focus on my voice,” James whispered, “You need to stay calm and it will pass.”
The words washed over William and his breathing slowed. He was focused on the words, but also on the hands that were caressing his smooth chest. The hands moved on to his arms and then down his thighs. James was applying just a little bit of pressure to try and calm his cell mate.
“Making friends I see,” William looked up to see his father. He sat up even though the pain in his muscles was returning. He refused to let his father see that he was in pain. “My fairy son...” Lachlan Stewart was about to berate his son when he noticed his sleeping jailers. “Get up!” He said kicking over the bench and sending the two men tumbling in a pile to the ground. William was happy for the distraction as he watched his father kicking and punching the two men, chasing them out of the room.
William tried to get his head together before his father came back. He could tell from the shadows on the floor that the day as nearing its end. His father had been dressed like he was hosting a visiting Lord, one from the good side of the family. He looked over at James who had moved himself back into a darker corner of the room. He sat on a bench turned away from where the Lord of Ulva had been.
“Cozying up with the rebels, eh?” Lord Stewart said as he came back in a huff. “I need to know where you stand...”
“In a dungeon cell!” William shot back as he almost ran to the bars. “Except for when I stand in the town square and get flogged.” A sarcastic smile crossed his face and he could see that his impudence was getting to his father.
“Do you not see the trouble you are in?” The Lord asked his disavowed son. “I am here to offer you terms. Terms by which you leave here and resume your lascivious lifestyle, terms for how you can still be of service to the realm and to your family.”
“You need me to lead another campaign.” William understood at once what his father’s words had meant. Lord Stewart had looked away. William was not only a gifted swordsman and jouster in tournaments. His prowess on the battlefield had become the stuff of legend. Lachlan Stewart had come to rely on his son in his son’s military skill. The highland clans had never accepted the rule of the House of Stewart. “How dare you?”
“You’re a pufta, but put a sword in your hand and you can beat off all comers.” Lachlan almost looked proud of his son as he said it. He looked imploringly at his son, “I need you. The highland clans are rallying around a new champion. Apparently he has the blood of the MacQuarrie’s flowing through his veins. We have barely been able to hold this castle against the lesser clans fighting them individually, and now they are joining together.” Lachlan was sounding sincere and that was the most troubling part for William, how could his father actually believe that he would help him?
“Your cousin the King has sent us 2000 reinforcements to help us hold this God forsaken island, and I need you to lead them.”Lord Stewart put on a very official and authoritative air as he said, “You have a moment to decide. If you will not help me then tonight you will be executed in the throne room.” A weird smile crossed Lachlan’s lips, “Your friend Fingon has volunteered to swing the sword.”
William sank down onto the floor. He could feel his father’s eyes on him. He knew that his father thought that he had won. “I won’t do it.” He said weakly.
Lachlan Stewart’s smile didn’t fade. William had always been a bit of a cry baby in his father’s eyes. “You have until you are beheaded to change your mind.” Lachlan reached through the bars and put his hand on his son’s head. “You are still a member of this family by blood.” Lachlan closed the door behind him, but he could still be heard screaming at his jailers just outside the door.
“Is that how he always asks for help?” James was walking over to offer his hand to William who was struggling to get off of the floor.
“That was much nicer than the last time actually,” William smiled, “I don’t think he realises that he nearly had me killed.” William laughed to himself, “Or at very least he doesn’t care.”
“How are you feeling?” James lowered William onto the bed and sat down beside him. It was very disarming for William as he was still naked. He knew that there was no hiding his attraction to his cellmate. William was not ashamed of his body. He was 20 and still had very little hair on him. His muscles were all lightly defined. William had always been a slight boy, his strength as a warrior was his agility and skill. James on the other hand was tall, nearly a foot taller than William, and the slightly older rebel was much thicker in the arms and chest.
James wrapped the blanket around William’s shoulders, “Don’t want you to get a chill.” He let his hands linger for only a moment on William’s arms. The nobleman could feel warmth exploding through his body. He could still feel the strange twinges of pain in his muscles, but he was craving James’ touch. “Save your strength,” James said as he laid William down and walked back to his dark corner. William wanted to say something, but sleep took him too quickly.
When he opened his eyes again the only light was firelight and William could feel the rumblings of a large group of men walking toward his cell. He turned quickly to see four guardsmen coming toward him. “Get up!” The first man yelled as he grabbed a handful of William’s blond hair. William followed the pull with his head and tried to get to his feet, but he was forced to the ground, “Should we have a bit a fun, or are you ready to go see daddy?”
The first guard was trying to undo his pants as two of his companions came to hold William’s arms. William had forced his jaw shut as the fourth man came forward and punched him in the gut. “Play nice and you may make it to the throne room.” The fat man had menacing, brown-toothed grin as he hit William again. The men were strangers to William which told him that the new recruits had already arrived. William looked to see where James was, but he was smacked again by the brutish guard.
“Grrr,” The low guttural snarl from William’s dream was back. The guards froze and threw William to the floor. They were tripping over him and each other as they tried to leave the cell. A large furry figure passed over William’s head and a chunk of bloody flesh dropped on his head. William looked up to see the tail leave the cell. The first guard, pants still around his ankles was on the cell floor, his throat missing the chunk of flesh in William’s hair.
“James!” William thought, but his friend was nowhere to be seen. The beast came back and for a second William was frozen with terror, but then the beast brushed himself against him and started off out of the dungeon. William bent down to steal the dead man’s pants but the wolf came back and snapped at him. He was clearly trying to help William escape.
“There’s a back way.” William said as he motioned to the wolf to follow him. William, who had been playing in the castle all his life, led the wolf out of the back door that the jailers used to drag the dead bodies to the pit. William had reservations about leaving the castle naked, but he knew he didn’t have much time.
As he opened the door, William saw the beautiful full moon and felt the light on his skin. He could feel a tingling that was spreading across his entire body. Just relax, it was more than a voice in his head. He words were calming him just like James’ words had when his muscles had been aching. Everything is going to be fine. It started on his arms and then his chest. It tickled as his nipples exploded with an ever thickening coat of hair. William noticed that he was being pulled toward the ground. His hands were changing and his nose was growing. When the sensations stopped William could see that he was a wolf.
He was a lighter grey than the other wolf and quite a bit smaller. He was struggling to keep up with the gait of the other wolf. It was just good to feel warm again. Even in this cold night air, the wolf fur was better than a blanket. William was loved the f
eeling of running through the forest. He had always loved it, but this was a whole new sensation. He was going faster than he ever had before. He was diving over logs and jumping through hedges with ease. William had lost track of the larger wolf, but he could still sense him, and William knew that the other wolf could sense him too.
William saw a figure standing over by a small pond. William knew it well, he had been fishing there with Fingon most of his life. As he got closer to the figure he noticed that his fur was getting sparse. The balding wolf was looking down at his front paws as he hit a log and went tumbling. He landed at James’ feet.
“Sorry, I am just getting used to this,” James smirked, “I have never turned anyone before. It is really intoxicating, the power I mean.” William got himself up to his knees and tried to talk. “You can’t speak right now, because I’m not letting you.” James’ words didn’t seem cruel. He was clearly just testing the limits of his new abilities. William noticed that James was naked as the taller man stopped in front of the kneeling nobleman, the rebels cock was only inches from William’s mouth.
“Look up at me,” James commanded. It didn’t feel like William was doing it, but still his eyes went up to meet James’. “Don’t move.” James smiled down at the smaller man as he reached out and placed his large manhood on William’s upturned face. William could feel the hunger growing inside him as the half engorged member crawled its way along his lips. James looked skyward and dank in the moonlight as he felt the tug of William’s skin against his foreskin.
William had never felt this alive before in his life. He couldn’t move, he was powerless, but he could feel. He felt the cool air turning his arms into a sea of goose bumps. He could feel the power surging through the rod that was stiffening slowly as it crossed his face. His lips delighted under the pressure of the shaft. As the head brushed against William’s eye he could feel it with his whole person.
