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