by Adara Wolf
Said like that—as a gift to Sentewa—but no. Ahmiki shook his head. “I still wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. And that would make her feel bad too.”
He didn’t react when Masatl took his hands and gently kissed the palms. Darkness all around them, just a few stars to illuminate their figures, and yet Masatl’s eyes glowed in reflected light. “I would join you. I would make sure you both enjoy yourselves. That is… would that work?”
“Why is this so important to you?”
“Because—” Masatl made a frustrated noise, and then used his hold on Ahmiki’s wrists to pull him into an embrace. “I want a piece of you left in this world. I want your name to be remembered. I want you, and I want you to not be gone.”
Ahmiki found himself moved by the declaration, relieved that his feelings weren’t as one-sided as he’d feared, and simultaneously upset at the grief he would cause Masatl. “You can’t keep me, Masatl. But if it means that much to you… all right. The three of us. You, me, and Sentewa. I’ll give you one night. And if it doesn’t take, then maybe Teska’atl wanted my line to end here.”
He felt Masatl smile. “It wasn’t Teska’atl who chose you.”
Ah, so Masatl had overheard the entirety of that particular conversation. “But he still oversees everything. Life, death, and rebirth.”
Masatl squeezed him just a bit tighter. They stood there, the stars moving across the night sky, and Ahmiki longed to be able to have an endless amount of nights just like this. Standing together, comforting each other.
~*~*~
Sentewa or Masatl must have said something to the brides, because they didn’t make any demands on Ahmiki’s body anymore. They did still talk to him during the day, conversation which was far more interesting than anything his retainers had said. And yes, they were all lovely ladies. “I wouldn't mind if you remarried when all this is over,” he had commented to one wife, and she gave him a funny look.
Whatever. Free of that particular duty, Ahmiki’s heart lifted.
He thought Masatl might have forgotten about the compromise he had pulled from Ahmiki, but a few days before the end, Masatl led Ahmiki and Sentewa to a hut on the outskirts of the city.
The bed, larger than any Ahmiki had ever slept on, looked daunting. Maybe it was anticipation; the prospect of sleeping with Sentewa wasn’t really that different from sleeping with his wives, even if he felt closer to her.
They must have sensed his nervousness; Sentewa went to light the incense and pour him some oktli, while Masatl took Ahmiki’s hands in his and kissed them gently.
“This is for you,” Masatl whispered. “You will enjoy it, I promise.”
It’s for Sentewa, Ahmiki wanted to protest, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate hearing that. How had Masatl convinced her into this, he wondered.
Sentewa came with the cup of oktli and held it up to his lips. “Drink, my lord. It will help you relax.”
As he drank, Masatl started removing Ahmiki’s clothes, carefully setting them aside on a bench. And once he was naked, and the other two stripped as well, they simply sat on the bed for a while, him in the middle, drinking oktli and chatting about nothing in particular.
“Have you enjoyed our company this year, my lord?” Sentewa asked. “Have we served you well?”
“Yes. I—I’ll leave orders to have you freed once I’m gone. And you can always talk to my mother, I’m sure she’d be willing to help you out.”
He’d already requested as much from his mother. He hadn’t mentioned the rest of it, where she might receive a grandson, but he didn’t want to raise her hopes either way.
Sentewa petted his naked thigh, familiar and yet foreign, so unlike the clinical touches she used when she helped bathe him. “Masatl said… that is, if it pleases you, I would like to lie with you, my lord.”
If it pleased him! No, but it pleased Masatl, who had started steadily massaging Ahmiki’s shoulders. The oktli had settled nicely in Ahmiki’s stomach, and the incense further helped relax him, so that it took little more than a nudge to get Ahmiki stretching out on his side.
“Kiss him,” Masatl said to Sentewa, though she waited for Ahmiki to nod before she followed the order.
She tasted sweet, of the oktli they had just drunk, and different from the brides. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she moved closer, for better access, and while it wasn’t as satisfying as having Masatl, Ahmiki found her comforting.
Then Masatl came up behind Ahmiki and lay an arm across his waist, which did send a thrill of arousal through him.
Sentewa broke the kiss and smiled, to which Ahmiki could only smile in return. “I’ve—I had hoped you might choose to take me, my lord. Serving you has been a dream.”
Oh. Ahmiki considered her words, and realized maybe she had been waiting all year. Waiting for something that would never be.
Yes, he could do this for her. He let his hands wander across her body. Her naked breasts, which he’d seen every day for the past year, pebbled as he trailed his fingers over them. Her nipples hardened, and she gasped lightly when he rubbed them.
“What do you like?” He asked her, somewhat conscious of his lack of skill in this area.
She must have answered, but he was distracted by Masatl suddenly putting his hand around Ahmiki’s cock and stroking, an unexpected rush of pleasure. He closed his eyes and moaned into it, relishing the sensation.
It stopped a lot sooner than he wanted it to, but was replaced just a moment later by wet heat. He opened his eyes and saw Sentewa wrapping her lips around his cock, teasing his erection and being altogether extremely skillful in the matter. Ahmiki grasped at Masatl with one hand and placed the other on Sentewa’s head, threading his fingers through her loose hair. He was careful not to pull, not to force her, but his hips jerked anyway. Sentewa didn’t seem fazed by it at all.
She pulled back before Ahmiki could lose his control completely though. His thoughts were completely scattered, and when Sentewa asked, "How do you want me?" he could also stare numbly.
It was Masatl who responded. “Lie back. He’ll take you, and I’ll take him.”
Yes. Ahmiki’s eyes crossed just imagining the pleasure. He didn’t need any coaxing to follow those instructions.
There was a small hitch when he looked down at Sentewa and thought about her, beyond just the sensations she would provide, but he had Sentewa’s legs wrapped around him and Masatl guiding him in, and then it was just his cock engulfed in warmth and soft pressure, occasionally squeezing his erection in a way that forced noises from his throat.
“Go slow,” Masatl ordered. It was hard to obey but Ahmiki managed, tempering his thrusts. Sentewa’s head was thrown back, her throat exposed and her hair fanning out across the bed, looking the very picture of the throes of passion.
He startled forward when he felt Masatl’s finger against his hole, somewhat slippery. He had to force himself to relax, to allow the finger inside, but the moment it hit that spot Ahmiki cried, “more.”
Masatl did give him more; more fingers, right away, and after minimal stretching it was Masatl’s cock in him, and then Ahmiki felt he had no control over anything at all anymore, with Masatl’s thrusts propelling him forward into Sentewa, and her movements driving him back into Masatl, and overall it couldn’t have lasted all that long.
He heard Sentewa cry out, followed by an even stronger ripple of pleasure along Ahmiki’s cock, highlighted by Masatl thrusting at just the right time, and Ahmiki’s own pleasure blinded him, drowning out whatever sounds he might have made.
When it was over, he barely had the strength to stay upright. It was only Masatl’s strong arms, still holding him, that prevented him from falling forward onto Sentewa’s body. Maybe another three thrusts, and that was Masatl coming, and then they did all fall into a pile. Sentewa squeaked, followed by a giggle, and they rearranged themselves into a more comfortable embrace.
Sentewa ended up in the middle, with Ahmiki petting her hair and Masatl kissing her st
omach and down to her pubic hair. Ahmiki shifted a bit uncomfortably when he saw Masatl forcing the seed that had slipped out back into Sentewa; if she noted it she said nothing.
His own thighs felt sticky with come, and he snorted in amusement as he thought of how these two would need to help get him cleaned and presentable after all of this.
Masatl murmured some nonsense words and kissed Sentewa’s navel again.
The incense and the orgasm left Ahmiki feeling completely mellow, barely able to find the energy to move at all. It was nice, his mind floating, all worries gone.
Not a bad way to spend one of his last days on earth.
Chapter 8
The five days between years were the unlucky ones.
Tlanextic sat Ahmiki in the center of the temple courtyard and used a ceremonial blade to chop all of Ahmiki’s hair short, cropped close in the style of the warriors.
The priests removed all of Ahmiki’s jewelry. They took his cape, his mirror, his sandals, and his loin cloth.
For a year, he had worn all the trappings of the ixiptla, and their weight had become a comfort. Even before his elevation in status though, he had worn the clothes of a prince. Not since childhood had he gone without shoes or cape.
Now he stood naked before all the people, and he listened as the priests declared that Teska’atl could give and take.
At the end of the poems, they directed Ahmiki to stand against a pole that had been erected in the middle of the courtyard. Ahmiki’s hands were tied around the pole with smooth rope, barely any give at all. He lay his forehead against the pole and closed his eyes.
“Our god Teska’atl allowed his skin to be flayed, so that his blood would turn to the sweet waters that quench our thirst. So we shall flay the ixiptla until he bleeds, to show Teska’atl that we honor his gifts to us, and that the ixiptla’s energies might help retain the balance of the spirit world.”
Ahmiki had been whipped before, as anybody who made tribute to Teska’atl would have. And just once, his father had had him whipped as punishment for disobedience.
He doubted this particular whipping would be as lenient.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Colsatsli smiling at him. Probably salivating at the thought of seeing Ahmiki flayed.
And then Masatl stepped into his line of sight, holding the whip tight.
The ixiptla was to be whipped by his own slave, to show all that the fortunes of any man could change on a whim.
There was no real danger, Ahmiki told himself. The priests would have trained Masatl to wield the whip properly so that he didn’t kill Ahmiki.
Having the skin on his back torn apart wouldn’t kill Ahmiki. Just hurt.
Ahmiki closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly. The anticipation was causing his muscles to tense up, which he knew would only make the pain worse, but there was no way he could force the same loose relaxation into himself he’d enjoyed with Masatl and Sentewa.
Forget Colsatsli, and the priests, and even Masatl. He had to do this for Teska’atl. Maybe he wasn’t originally meant for this role, but Teska’atl had spoken to him. Do this for his god, for the heavens, for the people of Xochititlan.
He heard the wind parting, the crack of the whip; only afterward did the pain register, and he fought not to make a sound. It wasn’t too bad though. Painful, but not unbearable.
The second strike was slightly lower, the heat of it spreading out and somehow overlapping with the previous strike.
Four light strikes.
And then the first true strike, one where it was impossible not to make noise. His voice rasped with the shout, and he didn’t even need to close his eyes because he was blinded by the pain.
He was supposed to take fifty-two lashes? No. No. Please, no.
Be strong, he heard, and he shook his head.
I can’t!
Be strong. You can do it.
Teska’atl sang to him in his mind, the rhythm of the song coinciding with the lashes, a strange soothing comfort in tandem with sharp pain. He must have been crying out too, but he didn’t hear himself. Sweat dripped down his brow into his eyes, joined by tears.
Vaguely, he realized that the lashes were hitting with extreme precision, never striking the same location twice. One lash on his buttocks, one across his shoulders, one across the backs of his legs. Had the last ixiptla been whipped exactly like this?
I love you, Teska’atl whispered to him, just as the twenty sixth lash wrapped across Ahmiki’s lower back.
Ahmiki shuddered, suddenly unsure of himself. The words made him glow, stirred something in his blood that he didn’t thought would be possible in this situation. And after the pain of each lash receded, he felt only the burning warmth, building upon itself, almost as if Teska’atl himself were embracing Ahmiki.
Did all ixiptla feel this, he wondered. Did all ixiptla realize, in this moment, that they would do anything for Teska’atl, endure all the pain and suffering and death just for the promises made by this god.
The thought was interrupted by a series of quick lashes, all spaced closely together. Masatl was losing control, Ahmiki thought, and it almost felt like his skin was splitting apart.
My jade, my silver, you who hold a strong face and a stronger heart. I love you.
Ahmiki laughed, which turned into a cry when the next lash hit him.
Bleed for me as I bled for you, Teska’atl said, just as Ahmiki was hit again, a strike so hard that Ahmiki screamed louder than before, until his voice trailed into nothing, completely shattered.
And then: nothing. No more pretty words, but no more whip either. Ahmiki clutched the pole as best he could to keep upright. He wouldn’t give Colsatsli the satisfaction of seeing him collapse.
Besides, Teska’atl had said that he was strong. He would maintain his dignity.
He heard the people cheering, and Tlanextic saying more words. None of the noise translated into anything he could understand, not until Masatl came up and undid the binding. Masatl also guided Ahmiki to stand next to Tlanextic, and show his back to all the people.
By his feet, Ahmiki saw a few drops of blood, evidence that his skin had been broken. He was drenched in sweat though, and he couldn’t determine how much he actually was bleeding. He knew only that his entire body burned.
He was so grateful when Masatl deemed it acceptable to guide him away from the courtyard and to the small hovel that now served as his home. Without Masatl, Ahmiki would never have managed even a single step. With Masatl, he felt… not energized, but vibrant, alive.
“Come, my treasure, lie down. I will tend to you,” Masatl whispered.
Ahmiki giggled slightly, the pain making it hard to form coherent thoughts. “You sound like him.” He went to the bed and settled onto his stomach, glad to be off his feet.
“Like who?” Masatl asked as he began applying a light cream of some sort across Ahmiki’s back.
“Like Teska’atl.” The salve made all of Ahmiki’s back tingle, and the transition from pain to not-pain stirred his cock.
“Maybe he sounds like me,” Masatl joked. His light touches soothed Ahmiki, and after a while there was nothing else, just Ahmiki and Masatl and the feeling of being cared for.
Ahmiki thought of offering to pleasure Masatl, but even though he was half-erect, he didn’t think he had the energy for anything strenuous. He just wanted to be close to Masatl.
Masatl stayed, petting Ahmiki, whispering to him, kissing and praising him. “You did so well. You were beautiful. You are a treasure.”
Later, after Masatl had made Ahmiki drink strong corn beer and had used a cloth to wipe Ahmiki clean, Ahmiki attempted to move.
His back still burned, but he didn’t feel as terrible as he had expected. In fact, when he looked at the cloth Masatl had used to wipe him down, he didn’t see much blood at all.
“Did you go easy on me?” Ahmiki asked. His voice was still hoarse from all the screaming he’d done.
Masatl pressed his lips to Ahmiki’s forehe
ad. “I did what needed to be done, and nothing more. Your brother would have had you suffer excessively. I would not give him what he wanted.”
“No, but… the last ixiptla. His back was a mess. I remember. Rivers of blood. Like Teska’atl.”
“The last ixiptla was not so kind to his slaves, and they returned the sentiment. But you… you were not meant for this, and I love you, so I would not harm you.”
If Ahmiki’s thoughts weren’t still so muddled from the pain, he might have been able to parse those sentences better. He got the sense that he was missing something important, something that was staring him right in the eye.
Masatl kissed him gently. “Sleep, my lord. You need to recover your strength.”
Yes. His eyes did feel heavy. Ahmiki yawned and let Masatl’s voice lull him to sleep.
~*~*~
He slept for most of the remaining unlucky days. No wives, no retainers, no fancy house. Probably he wasn’t supposed to have Sentewa or Masatl either, but they both snuck in to see him. They made sure that Ahmiki was comfortable.
And then it was the final day.
The priests had Ahmiki cleanse himself in a temaskalli, sweating the impurities out of him. The steam soothed his muscles, even relaxed his back so that the remnant aches of the whipping were gone. When they had decided he was clean enough, he got pushed outside.
The steam had left Ahmiki feeling lightheaded. He didn’t realize Masatl was waiting for him until hands steadied his shoulders.
“Come. To the cenote, for the final cleansing.”
Ahmiki glanced back at the temaskalli. The priest was coming out, also drenched in sweat, but he nodded at Ahmiki’s inquisitive look. “Finish the purification. And then we will prepare you for the climb.”
Every step Ahmiki took towards the cenote felt heavier, harder to make. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to give Colsatsli the satisfaction. But he didn’t want to doom the people of Xochititlan either.
There was no room to hesitate though, because Masatl guided him along with purpose. Into the far temple building where this had all started, to where Ahmiki had undergone his first cleansing.
