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   story codes: (Mb bb snuff anal oral ped) style: contemporary

   THE DUNGEON MASTER by Rafe Morgan (Copyright 2012)

   BOOK I: THE CAGE (Jacob)

   Chapter 6

   Once Jacob's deepest cuts finally closed his recovery became much more
rapid and I eased him back into a workout routine.

   "What shall we do with this?" I asked one evening, holding up the
$5,000. We were lying together naked on his bed and Jacob was cuddled in my
arms drowsy with pleasure after being taken by me for the first time since
his fight.  He lifted his head and then reached for the money.

   "It's part of your winnings," I told him, running a palm over the red
welts of his healing scars.  "The money's starting to roll in now.  You're
a celebrity.  I think we should take it to the store and buy a lot of
salad. Plenty of carrots and celery.  They're so good for you..."

   "No way, Joe!" The boy protested.  Then he laughed when I tickled him.
Salad was his least favorite food and I was always giving him it to him and
making him eat it.

   "How 'bout we do this," I said when he stopped squirming and hugged
against me once more.  "How 'bout we take a vacation.  Someplace where
you've always wanted to go.  What would be your first choice?"

   "Universal Studios!" Jacob exclaimed, looking up, his eyes sparkling.

   "Wow." I considered it.  "Yeah...  You know, I wouldn't mind going there
myself." I leaned over to give the boy a kiss, and then patted the hard
silky curve of his butt.  "Let's go.  We'll leave all this cold weather
behind and have some fun.  Then I'll take you to Key West.  You can enjoy
the beach for a while.  But I'm warning you---" Grinning, I tickled the boy
again.  "This will be a working vacation.  You need to get back into
fighting trim.  You'll be swimming every day - surfing, running on the
beach!  In a few months when we get back, you're gonna' be tough as nails!"

   We left the very next day, and as it was Jacob's first time in a plane I
made sure he got a window seat where he spent the flight peering out
excitedly and asking question after question.

   Our visit to the Universal Studios Theme Park was a huge success and we
extended our stay an entire week because we were having so much fun.  Jacob
loved everything, especially the roller coaster thrill rides, but his
absolute favorite place turned out to be the water park and we spent all
our afternoons and evenings there.  No matter how many times he went down
the flumes and slides Jacob never seemed to tire of them, particularly the
double rides where he could be held by me, sitting between my legs and
leaning back against my chest.  He also loved the huge wave pool where I
taught him to boogie board and held him in the artificial surf while the
big rollers bobbed us up and down.

   His long hair and the scars on his body attracted attention, earning him
many curious looks from other kids, plus more than a few admiring glances
from young girls.

   He was growing again.  I could practically feel the quickening energy in
him when my arms held his silky warmth every night.  His birthday arrived.
Jacob was 14 and we celebrated with a special dinner and then in bed that
evening, I showed him the gold earring I had been saving to give him.

   "You can have your ear pierced tomorrow," I told him as he examined it,
eyes shining.

   "Thank you, Joe." He tugged at me, pulling me down onto himself, wanting
more just as he always had, but changes were working within him and the
night after his birthday, as we were getting ready for bed, he asked,
"Joe?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Like...  Like..."

   I could always tell when he wanted something and was shy about asking
because he kept his eyes lowered and played with his hair.  "What, Jacob?"
I asked, kissing him.  "Come on.  You can tell me.  Anything you want, you
know I'll try to get it for you."

   He glanced up at me, squirmed and then finally blurted, "If I like keep
winning, can I...  like, will you like, give me a girl...  like they did
with Conan..."

   His face went beet red as he stammered this request and I hugged the
boy, trying to control my reaction.

   Jacob was growing and changing, as all boys must, entering the
fascinating process of change that I knew and welcomed.  But a small part
of me mourned the innocent youngster he would never be again, while at the
same time I wondered how I would go about obtaining the thing that he
wanted.

   "You can have whatever you want," I assured the boy, petting him and
then rubbing a finger on his new earring.  "Let me work on that.  I'll make
some arrangements..."

   He cuddled against me, hugging tight and then offered his lips to be
kissed, opening his mouth wide as the signal that he wanted me deep within
him.  We writhed together on the bed and then the boy rolled onto his back,
pulling me on top and parting his knees, trembling in his eagerness.

   Afterwards, still panting a little, his silky warmth pressed against me,
wrapped in my arms, the boy whispered, "Joe?"

   My palm glided over the hard little curve of his hip.  "Yeah?"

   Quivering, the boy tightened his hug.  "I really, really like you a
lot."

   "I know," I whispered back, petting him.  "I love you, too."

   The next day we flew to Key West where we spent the winter holidays and
the month after in a beach condo I had leased.  Every morning I took Jacob
out onto the sand for a 5 mile run followed by hours of Navy Seal workouts
and then he spent the rest of the day swimming, surfing, snorkeling and
jet-ski riding.  It was a wonderful regime for him and he thrived on it,
his long hair bleaching to near blonde from the hours of sun exposure and
his lithe muscular body turning a rich golden brown.

   At the wave pool in Orlando Jacob had mastered the boogie board and now
I introduced him to a short surfboard.  With a little coaxing that overcome
his initial shyness I sent him out into the Atlantic rollers where other
kids his age were riding and soon his scars, flowing hair and trim athletic
build attracted attention.  A cluster of boys and girls his own age or a
bit younger formed around him and in the days that followed they became a
regular group, meeting every day to surf if there were waves, or to play
tag games in the freshwater pool if the offshore wind had not provided
anything.

   "Are you having fun?" I asked him and he nodded happily.

   "What did you tell them when they asked about your scars?"

   "I said I got 'em motorcycle riding."

   We exchanged grins and I gave the boy a quick hug.

   "He's so polite," a mother told me one afternoon while we watched Jacob
playing in the water with her son and several other youngsters.  "What's
your secret?"

   I just smiled and shook my head, wondering what her reaction would be if
she knew her son was swimming next to a trained killer, one who would gut
her soft little treasure without hesitation on a word from me.

   "I think he's just that way naturally."

   "Well, I certainly wish mine was like that," she said in a tone
combining envy and frustration.

   One of the girls who turned up every day in Jacob's group was a pert
little blonde, a few inches shorter than he was and an even better surfer.
After a while I noticed she had become very possessive of him and when I
arranged a jet-ski and scuba expedition for the group she rode double with
Jacob all afternoon, holding him tight around the waist.

   The next day I pointedly let it be known while the girl was close enough
to overhear that I would be gone all afternoon "on business." Then I made a
show of driving off in our rental car.

   I actually did go into town and puttered around at an Internet café,
studying maps online to get ideas about finding Jacob's next opponent. 
Then, after an hour or so I drove back, but left the car in a parking area
across the beach road from our condo.

   Approaching cautiously, careful to make no revealing sounds, I went
inside, snuck past the kitchen and entered the living area only after
making sure no one was in the room.  On the floor by the couch I saw
Jacob's board shorts and the high cut pink swimsuit the girl always wore.
Moving silently I tiptoed into the hallway leading to our bedrooms.  There
were sounds - little cries, panting and the creaking of bedsprings. 
Without going any further I turned away, leaving as silently as I had come.
At the complex across the street I bought a coke out of a vending machine,
took a long swallow, and finished the rest on the way back to town.

   When I returned, hours later, around dinnertime, Jacob was in the living
area playing a video game.  He got up to greet me, smiling happily and I
put my arm around him.  "How did it go, kid?"

   He looked up and I gave him a knowing smile.  "Was it like you thought
it would be?"

   This made him redden a little and he squirmed and then hugged against
me. "Thank you, Joe."

   "You can have anything you want, kid," I said, caressing him.  "You know
that."

   He thought I had arranged it all, and perhaps in a way, I had.

   They spent two more afternoons together and there were a few other
encounters out on the beach before the girl's vacation ended.  After she
finally left I watched to see if Jacob would mope in some reaction, but the
only change was a grimmer intensity in the way he did his morning workouts.
His legs were getting long enough so that he could push me a little in the
runs, and when we did the Seal Team exercises he would not stop until he
was trembling on the point of exhaustion.

   At night in bed he tugged at me, wanting to be taken, and I noticed that
his responses were beginning to change, becoming more forceful, so that it
was not as easy to keep him repeating.  When I gave him the cocaine he
writhed in ecstasy, pulling me in as deep as he could until his hard little
body was shuddering and bucking.  Then, afterwards, he wanted to be cuddled
in my arms with my hands stroking him gently.

   "Joe," he would ask, "Like when can I fight again?  Like how soon?"

   There was a need in him now, a craving like he had for the drug, and as
I watched him turn aggressive with some of the other boys in his group I
knew it was time to take him home.

   In the airport going to our return flight, Jacob put on a show of being
an experienced traveler now that he had taken two plane rides, although I
noted that he still reacted with excitement to the window seat I made sure
he had.  The flight back was fun for him because there was good visibility
and he could look down to see things on the ground far below for most of
our route.  When we reached our home airport the air felt very cold to us
after the warmth of the Keys and we were glad to finally get into the van
which I had left in long-term parking.

   Less than an hour later, as I was turning onto our exit from the
interstate, Jacob asked, "Joe?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Can we like...  Can we like stop and look at the cage?"

   I glanced over at him and the boy turned toward me.  He was wearing a
wind breaker I had bought him, its orange color glowing against his sun
bleached hair and dark tan.  "Absolutely," I told him.  "It's probably a
good idea we check on things."

   The Industrial Park had the usual scattering of cars in the front
parking lot but in back all the old warehouse buildings were still
deserted. I parked by our door and Jacob scrambled out and then waited for
me to produce my key.

   Inside there was an eerie silence and dust motes drifted in the rays of
light that slanted down from the windows onto the steel cage's wire mesh.
While I stood and watched, Jacob walked around, touching all the cameras,
and then asked for the cage door to be unlocked and went inside.

   Taking off his windbreaker and the sleeveless T-shirt he was wearing
under it Jacob bared his wiry upper body.  Then in slow practiced movements
he did tai chi, holding each pose for me, with his muscular form tensed
dramatically in the light.  I watched without saying anything and when he
was done he put his clothes back on and then stepped out of the cage to hug
me.

   "Joe?"

   "Yeah."

   "If I win again can we like go to that place where you like fight in the
temple?"

   "Sure," I told him.  "Sure we can.  I'll take you."

   "Can I like fight where there's people?"

   "I'll make sure of it."

   This satisfied him and we locked up and then got into the van, but as we
were driving away he asked, "Can I like fight again soon?"

   "First I want you back in weapons training for a few weeks.  Then we'll
see."

   He squirmed restlessly, but nodded.  "Okay."

   "The next kid you fight is going to come from a higher rank.  I want you
to be ready."

   He nodded again.  "I know."

   To emphasize that we were returning to serious training, I made Jacob
sleep in the small bedroom for a few nights until he proved to me he could
still do well over a hundred pull-ups consistently.

   "It's harder now," he told me with a rueful grin and I laughed, clapping
him on the shoulder.

   "That's because you're a little bigger and heavier."

   Very quickly our old routine of twice a day weight training, wrestling
and weapons practice was reestablished, but the first time I began working
Jacob with sword and javelin something revealed itself that I had
previously missed.

   There was a slight hitch in the way he moved on the right side.  At
first I was sure I was imagining it, but it occurred repeatedly each time
he countered, shifting his weight, and at last I was convinced.

   "It doesn't hurt," Jacob assured me later when I stretched him out on
the bed and was examining the healed wound at the top of his thigh. 
Running my fingers over the thick scar told me nothing, but I knew that
somewhere a tendon, nerve or muscle must have been subtly damaged.

   "Looks like it's fine," I assured the boy, patting him, and then hauling
him to his feet.  "Roast chicken tonight, and my special salad!"

   Jacob made a face because he hated salad and after tickling to make him
laugh, I led him upstairs.

   Finding a new opponent for Jacob did not go well, largely because I had
to be more selective than before.  All I had needed for the previous two
were willingness and the necessary aggression, but this third adversary was
supposed to be bigger and equipped with better skills, so I needed a kid
who could project that sort of impression.

   Study of the maps on the Internet gave me plenty of likely locations and
in all of them I met boys who could be taken, but none seemed to fit the
criteria.  After a few weeks of work Jacob's weapon skills were back at
their peak and I could tell he was becoming restless as I put him off with
excuses.

   "Real soon," I kept telling him, "The offers are there, I just gotta' be
sure you're getting the right one.

   "I don't care, Joe," he said seriously.  "I just wanna' do it!"

   "This one's gonna' be more dangerous," I warned.  "Don't get
overanxious."

   But he just shook his head, saying again, "I don't care."

   Outside the temperature soared, spring arrived and it was coming up on a
year since I had taken Jacob.  He had grown several inches and intense
training had sculpted his body into a model of young adolescent beauty that
the scars only enhanced.  Holding him in my arms after our nightly
couplings, stroking and petting him, I wondered sometimes what roads he
might have taken had he never crossed my path.  But these speculations were
always interrupted by his tugging at my arm and by the way he offered his
lips, wanting to be kissed.

   He still wanted me, sometimes I think more than ever, but I wondered how
much longer it could last.  When my fingers slid on his lengthening,
thickening penis they now found wisps of downy hair at the base.  Jacob was
immensely proud of them and constantly wanted to be assured that there
would be more and that he would still be allowed to fight.

   "Everything's fine," I told him over and over.  "You're my little
warrior, and you're growing and developing just the way you should.  I'm so
proud of you."

   Two more weeks went by and still I had not found an opponent.  I started
entertaining impossibilities, like a young looking 15-year-old who came to
the door one weekend asking about doing my lawn.  Realizing that even
desperation could not justify taking a risk like that I returned to the
maps for a new selection of possibilities, and then before I even had a
chance to investigate them, the boy I was looking for turned up in an
unexpected place.

   There was a big discount store in a strip mall not far from the
industrial park where I bought the towels, sheets and other household items
Jacob and I sometimes needed.  The store had an electronics section that I
always strolled through when I shopped there, partly to survey what was on
the shelves and partly to check out any boys who might be playing video
games on the demonstrator.

   This particular afternoon only a fat kid and his little brother were
using the PlayStation.  Neither one was interesting, but at the back, in
front of the wall of TV sets, movement caught my eye.  I turned and then
stared.

   The TV sets were all showing a DVD of 'The Three Hundred', a film
glorifying the stand of the Spartan Army at the pass of Thermopylae in 483
B.C.  High-tech computer graphics had been used to realistically depict the
bloody ferocity of that clash and on the TV screens half naked Spartan
soldiers screamed battle cries and hacked into the enemy using swords and
spears.

   Standing in front of the TVs was a slender adolescent boy who was
imitating every move the warrior images made on the screen.  With a lunge
he jabbed an imaginary spear, and then stepped forward to deliver an
overhead sword stroke, twisting away to avoid the invisible adversary's
counter thrust.  All three exertions were accompanied by little grunts and
muttered cries as the boy imagined himself into the action.

   Watching from a nearby aisle I evaluated him.  The kid was white,
Jacob's age or perhaps older, and looked about an inch taller.  The tips of
his dark brown hair had been bleached to a yellow color and he was wearing
faded utility shorts along with a sleeveless and stained yellow shirt that
looked too small for him.

   The boy intrigued me, but cameras were everywhere in the store so I
proceeded cautiously.  When the movie scene shifted and the kid broke off
his imaginary battle I casually moved along the wall of TVs, appearing to
inspect them.  When I got close, the boy looked up at me without any
shyness as if he was expecting me to say something.  After a quick glance
around to be sure no one else was paying attention I murmured, "Pretty cool
movie, huh?"

   "Yeah!" The boy smiled proudly.  "I seen it like ten times when it came
out!"

   "Where?  Over at the multiplex?"

   This was a movie theater not far away, part of the mega-mall and I was
trying to determine if the boy was local, but he seemed not to even have
heard the question.  "I seen it like four times in Corpus Christi and a
bunch more in like other places."

   There was something wrong with his eyes.  One was a bit larger than the
other and set at a distinct angle.  It gave the boy a wild look but the
rest of his face was delicately molded with a pert upturned nose and small
pretty mouth.

   "They got a video game for this movie," I told him.  "It's for Xbox."

   "Uh-huh." On the TV screens another action sequence started and the
boy's eyes followed it.  "I had a PlayStation once.  This guy like gave it
to me, but my brother's friends broke it."

   "That sucks."

   "Yeah." He began to move again, imitating the action.

   "You're pretty good at this," I told him.  "I bet you're a good
fighter."

   "Uh-huh, I can fight!  I can do like all that stuff.  I like did boxing
once!"

   "Wow!  You are good."

   But his attention had already left me to focus on the movie.  Mindful of
the cameras, I walked away casually while behind me the kid went back to
his fighting with the warriors in the film.  But I did not leave the store.
Killing time in another aisle I kept a stealthy eye on the boy until the
movie was nearing its end and only then headed for a checkout line.

   In the parking lot, I left my purchases on the seat of the pickup truck,
and then waited by the outside garden display watching the sidewalk in
front of the discount store's main entrance.  After a while the boy came
out and when he headed off down the sidewalk I followed him.  More cameras
were in the parking lot so I was careful to stay well away and pretended to
be window shopping.  At the end of the mall he cut through a path into a
small wooded area and then I was sure of where he was going.

   Not far from the strip mall, about a mile down the highway, was a
rundown motel that rented out units by the week.  It was a place used by
transients drifting through the area and sometimes by families that needed
temporary housing from the county social service agencies.  The boy was
almost certainly headed there and I walked back to my truck, took it onto
the highway and then drove to a fast food restaurant that sat across the
road from the motel.  Parking there, I watched until I saw the boy walking
past the units over at the motel and when he disappeared into one I made a
note of the number and then drove home.

   Jacob was on the bed in his room playing a video game and the moment he
saw my face he knew something was up.  "You might have a fight," I told
him, sitting down on the bed with him and he dropped the controller to sit
up, legs drawn under him, so he could listen.

   "I got an e-mail and if everything goes right the kid will be on the
plane tonight.  I'll go to the airport after supper to check."

   Jacob tilted his head.  "Does he like get my room tonight?"

   "Naw.  Forget that.  If he comes in late he can sleep in the small room.
You and I can be here or upstairs, whatever you want."

   This made him happy, the way it always did, and he crawled over to me on
the bed and then stretched out with his head in my lap and asked, "What's
he like, Joe?"

   "Well," I said, stroking him, "I've only seen pictures, but he's maybe
just a little older than you, half a year maybe, and I think he's like an
inch or so taller.  But he's kind of lanky so you're definitely stronger."

   My hand drifted over the long scar across his chest and Jacob took hold
of it to rub my palm on his nipples and then stroked it down the smooth
muscular sweep of his stomach until my fingers were in his groin where his
penis had lifted into stiff rigidity.  "Has he like won a bunch of fights?"

   "Sure," I told him, rubbing his stiff shaft.  "A few more than you.  Not
many.  He's experienced, but not that experienced."

   Jacob extended his arms back behind his head and then closed his eyes
arching his body and squeezing to harden himself.  I rubbed faster and felt
him quiver.  "Are you ready?" I asked, and the boy nodded his head.

   That evening, after it got dark, I drove the van to the motel and parked
in a dark corner beyond the end of the buildings.  I had come prepared to
wait, but there was no need because within minutes the boy came out of the
same unit I had seen him enter that afternoon.  For a few seconds he stood
in the light of the open doorway and I heard the sounds of loud music and
raised voices.  Then the door closed and he stumbled along the sidewalk
weaving a little from side to side.

   There were little lamps mounted by the doors to each motel room and at
least half were not working.  In the dim illumination of the ones that were
on I saw that, despite the coolness of the spring evening, the boy was bare
chested, wearing only the utility shorts and torn sneakers.  When he
stepped off into the darkness at the end of the sidewalk he leaned over the
tarmac and then kicked up into a handstand.  Wobbling unsteadily he held
this for about five seconds and then regained his feet and headed for a
space over by the dumpster where he began a mock fight similar to the one
he had enacted in front of the TV sets earlier.

   I watched him for a time, curious to see how long he would go on but
nearly ten minutes passed and the boy showed no signs of stopping.  By then
I was convinced he was high on something, either meth or ecstasy.  The
place by the dumpster where he was enacting his imaginary role-play was out
of sight from the units of the motel and looking around I saw no one else.
Starting the van, I put it in gear and without turning on its lights pulled
up beside the boy.

   He was deep in his game, just completing a charging attack when the
sound of the engine made him turn his head.  I leaned out the window.  "Hi.
I see you're practicing again,"

   Peering at me in the darkness he said, "You was at the store today."

   "Yeah.  I figured I'd come by and see if you'd want to hang out for a
while."

   Without any hesitation or reply he circled around to the passenger side
where I opened the door for him.

   "This a nice van," he said as we drove around the back service alley.

   I did not switch the headlights on until we were ready to go out onto
the highway.  While we made the turn and accelerated to join the traffic,
the boy leaned over watching me use the gear shift.  There were dark
patches of bruising on his left arm and he neither pulled away nor flinched
when I held his arm up to examine it.

   "Who gave you these bruises?"

   He shrugged.  "My sister's old man.  He don't like me.  I don't like him
either."

   It was difficult to be sure in the dark, but the bruising did not look
fresh.  I put his arm down and then patted the boy's shoulder and he added,
"She ain't really my sister.  She just like says that to people."

   "How long you been with them?"

   He shrugged again.  "Since las' summer.  They like said we was goin' to
California an' like that, but we ain't..."

   "Where do you go to school?"

   "I doan' like school." The boy shook his head.  "I ain't never goin'
back."

   "You sure fight good," I told him and he looked over at me proudly.

   "I'm strong!  See?" Unbuttoning his shorts the boy lifted his hips,
pushed the shorts all the way to his ankles and showed me his slender legs.
When I reached over to touch he flexed them for me by leaning back and
lifting his feet.  The rounded swell of the boy's hard thigh muscle was a
solid mass under my palm.  His legs were long in proportion to the rest of
his body giving him even more of an awkward coltish look than Jacob had. 
Dingy white briefs covered his middle and above them the boy's abdomen
glistened in a firm silky sheet.

   "I got like ridges in my belly," the kid told me with obvious pride and
took my hand to slide it over himself letting me feel the little ridges of
muscle under his smooth skin.

   "Wow, you are strong," I assured him.  "I bet you could fight just like
those guys in the movie!"

   "Uh-huh!  I can do like all that stuff!  I can do kung fu and like stuff
like that, too!"

   The boy had made no move to pull his pants back up and when I slid my
fingers across him I could feel a hard bulge in the crotch of his tight
briefs.  "That's why I came to get you," I told him.  "I got a place where
you can like practice and fight all day like that - with real weapons."

   The boy stared at me in excitement.  "You mean like for real an' shit,
like with blood an' everything?  Like in video games?"

   "Yeah," I said, nodding.  "Just like that.  Even better maybe.  I want
you to hang out with me for a while."

   "Yeah!"

   I held out my fist and the kid punched it, and then took my hand and
pressed it on his stomach again, sliding it back and forth over his warm
silky skin.  "I'm strong," he assured me again.

   "Yeah, you are." I caressed back and forth over his hard belly.  "What's
your name?"

   "Brandon."

   "You're gonna' be the best, Brandon.  You'll see..."

   At the house, once we were in the garage, I had Brandon pull up his
pants and then sent him into the back of the van, telling him to stay there
until I came to get him.  The boy obeyed without any question, climbing
over the seat into the cargo area and then sitting down holding his knees.

   "I'll be right back," I promised him, getting out.

   Jacob had heard the van come in and was waiting for me anxiously by the
basement door.  "Did he come?"

   "Yeah, he's here.  He looks exactly like his picture, too.  Just like
they said.  I gotta' get him settled in, and then let him do some
stretching.  I want you to stay in your room."

   "Okay."

   The boy knew the routine and followed me obediently to his bedroom, but
just before I locked him in Jacob put a hand on my arm.  "You're gonna'
stay with me tonight?"

   I bent over to kiss him and the boy hugged tight against me.  "You know
I will.  Don't I always?  I'll be in a little later.  This may take a
while. You want a snack?"

   "Uh-uh."

   "Okay.  Just rest up.  The fight will be in the morning again.  Like
last time."

   "Will there be lots of people watching?"

   "Shit - there'll be a worldwide audience.  Way more than before even. 
If you win this one, you'll fight in front of a live audience in the next
one!

   "Like in that place with the temples?"

   "Yep."

   He nodded, and then we kissed and I locked the boy into his bedroom.

   Out in the van Brandon was in exactly the same place as I left him and
he peered out at me when I slid open the panel door.

   "Come on," I told him.

   In the basement he gazed with excitement at the weight equipment and
immediately wanted to try everything.  "You bet," I said, keeping a
restraining hand on his bare shoulder so he would not run around all over
the place.  "Let's see how you do."

   Brandon was slightly taller than Jacob, but not as filled out in the
upper body, so I was surprised by what he could do on the weight bench. 
Although not as strong as my trained warrior his lifts were so good, and he
liked doing them so much, I had to restrain him.  "If you're gonna' fight
tomorrow, you can't get all tired out now."

   "I gonna' fight tomorrow?"

   "Sure.  You can show me how good you are."

   Brandon looked up eagerly.  "Like for real?  Like the videogame?"

   "Yup."

   "Cool!" He showed no fear at all, shielded by either the high he was on
or his own supreme confidence.  When he grinned at me the bright
illumination of the overhead fluorescents revealed how bad his teeth were.
Brandon had been using meth, and perhaps ecstasy as well, for some time.

   "Let's see you work your legs a little," I suggested.  "Try this bench
over here."

   I put him on the cable machine for quad exercises and after trying a few
reps the boy took his pants off to display the leg muscles he took such
pride in.  The sets proved his strength there; as great as Jacob's,
although he lacked my boy's endurance.

   "Wow!  Pretty good, Brandon."

   The boy smiled up happily as I patted his shoulder, and then he reached
to take my hand, rubbing it across his slender chest.  "I'm strong!"

   "Yeah, you are!" Smiling back at him I caressed the boy, and from the
way he was looking at me I could tell he enjoyed it.  "Want to try some
practice weapons?"

   "Yeah!" He sat up eagerly.

   When I took the blunt sword and javelin set from the rack, Brandon eyed
them with delight, accepting them reverently from my hand.  "Awesome!" He
breathed, eyes shining.

   Holding the weapons, he took a stance and I watched, feeling a thrill go
up my spine.  Like Jacob this boy had a spectacular athletic beauty but
that was not what I was staring at.

   He was left-handed.

   My estimation of what the match would be like the next day changed in an
instant.  Jacob was right-handed and had been trained to fight right-handed
opponents.  Against a left-hander he would be forced to adjust and some of
his instinctive counters might not only be ineffective but could actually
leave him open to attack.  He would have to be warned.  Suddenly the match
seemed far more unpredictable.

   Brandon and I sparred for much longer than I intended because the boy
was enjoying it so much I did not want to force him to stop.  All his moves
were ones he had copied from the movie and he was very aggressive, always
charging at me - and in the process leaving himself open to counterattack.

   I made no attempt to correct any of this, curious to see what would
happen when he encountered Jacob's more disciplined style.  Brandon was
untrained but had combative instincts, and I noted with approval the way he
had grasped that his javelin and sword could be used in combination and not
just as separate weapons.

   After half an hour I insisted that he start resting for the next
morning's encounter and reluctantly he let me put the weapons away. 
"Tomorrow gonna' be real, like the videogame, right?  There gonna' be like
blood an' stuff."

   "Real as can be," I assured him and he dashed around, making thrusts at
imaginary enemies.

   "Yah!  Huh!  Hu!  Hu!"

   Brandon's lanky body was glistening with sweat from our practice session
and he was exuding a sour smell.  Grabbing him by a slippery shoulder I
guided him toward the stairs.  "Let's get you into the shower."

   Up in my bedroom the boy's only reaction to my stripping in front of him
was to come close so he could feel my arm muscle.  "You's big as those guys
in the movie," he said appreciatively and I gave his slender shoulders a
little squeeze.

   "I'm sure those guys were way bigger."

   He allowed me to take his briefs off, stripping him naked, and I was
surprised to discover that, although his penis was lengthened, his shaft
was still rather slender for his apparent age and the groin was completely
hairless.  The boy was half erect when I slipped his briefs down and by the
time he had stepped out of them his erection was fully up.  When I stroked
it with my fingers he hugged against me in a matter of fact way, and then I
took him into the bathroom and started the shower.

   Brandon enjoyed every part of this, exclaiming in delight at the three
shower nozzles that cascaded hot water on us from different directions and
leaning back against me arching his slender body sensuously as I first
scrubbed him with scented body wash, and then lathered up his hair in the
shampoo that smelled of oranges.

   "You're nice," he told me while I slid my hands all over his silky body,
rinsing him off.  Without being told he knelt down in front of me to take
my jutting erection into his mouth.

   I expected him to be experienced, but his use of tongue and fingers was
surprisingly clumsy.  He needed my help to get me off and then had trouble
swallowing when I spurted into him.  Afterwards I held the boy, petting him
and assuring him he had done well, and then when I took him out of the
shower and dried both of us with the same fluffy towel he leaned against me
squirming happily.

   "This is nice.  I like you," he kept telling me.

   Some patient coaxing got him to brush his teeth, and then after opening
his mouth for me so I could inspect, he allowed himself to be picked up and
carried naked over to my bed.

   Here, too, I was surprised by his apparent lack of experience.  Brandon
lay motionless, passive as a doll even when I took him into my arms, until
I told him it was all right for him to move around and put his hands on me
wherever he wished.  Only then, as I stroked his slender back tenderly, did
he attempt a tentative little hug and rub a palm on my back as well.

   "You're big," he whispered softly.

   "You're my big strong boy," I whispered back, petting him, and Brandon's
warm smooth body pressed closer as his arms tightened around me.

   For a time, all I did was explore him, sliding my hands on the rounded
points of his shoulders, slender hollow of his waist and his silky hips. 
The boy was too lanky for prettiness, nor did he have the defined muscular
symmetry that Jacob possessed, but Brandon's young adolescent body was
still beautiful in the way all lean, vital growing things are.  Except for
the merest dusting of tiny blonde hairs on his forearms and lower legs the
boy's skin was glassy smooth and I caressed it with my palms and fingers,
brushing the velvety softness of his armpits, gliding down the satin of his
flanks and stroking the silky warmth of his inner thighs.

   Brandon writhed beneath my caresses, giving tiny little moans of
pleasure.  I stretched him out on his back, put his arms behind his head,
and then began to rub the slim erection that was straining up from his
hairless groin.  The boy spread his slender legs, his breaths coming
faster, and then when I pressed a finger into his belly button he tensed
reflexively, arching to squeeze his butt.  My fingers slid on him, rubbing
his stiff shaft from base to circumcised tip and the boy gave a little cry
bucking his hips again and again as throbs pulsed within his rigid shaft.

   With my finger wiggling in his belly button I took the boy to a second
and then a third series of pulsing spasms and then let him relax as he lay
sprawled on the sheet, arms flung back over his head and his knees half
pulled up.

   Leaving him there for a moment I got a tube of KY from beneath the bed
and then, crouching next to the boy, I rolled him onto his stomach. 
Brandon lay motionless while I spread his butt crease and lubricated him,
spreading KY around his anus, pushing it up into his rectum and twisting my
fingers.  From the way he bore down to open himself and from the looseness
of his sphincter I could tell I was not his first, but even so I was as
gentle as possible and took plenty of time to slide my fingertips on the
little nub at the root of his penis, massaging while the boy strained to
spread his legs apart, moaning in pleasure.

   Once the boy's opening was slick with KY I pulled him toward me, took
him into my arms, and then rolled with him onto my back so he was lying
face up on top of me with his firm butt nestled in my groin.

   Brandon spread his legs to either side of my hips and then let me
stretch his arms back and gave a little squeak of pleasure as I ran my
palms over his smooth chest and the silky sheet of his hard stomach.  He
squirmed a little as my fingers slid up and down on his shaft and then
wiggled again, pulling his knees up as I reached down to guide the tip of
my jutting erection into his anus.

   Bit by bit I eased it in, stretching the boy's ring as Brandon continued
to squirm, trying to push onto it.  Suddenly with a little grunt he popped
me through and my blunt head was enveloped by the heat of his body. 
Panting, Brandon bore down while I thrust and my rigid shaft slid up into
him, sheathing itself in hot moist sweetness with the boy's head pulled
back as he twisted in ecstasy.

   Rubbing Brandon's stiff slender penis with one hand and using the
fingertips of the other in his belly button I took the boy again and again
into thrusting heaving spasms, throbs pulsing in his loins.  Droplets of
slippery fluid rolled off the tip of his jutting penis, lubricating my
pumping fist so I could rub even harder, and the boy squirming on my
impaling rod, head arched back and his breathing coming in little pants.

   "Uh...  Uh...  Uh...  Uh..  Uh...  Uh..."

   Gradually my own response was ramping up.  When my hips began to move
Brandon felt it instantly and his own movements quickened with mine. 
Together we rolled onto our sides and I began to pump, sliding my slick
shaft in and out of the boy's gaping opening while he pushed back against
me to deepen the penetration.  Squeezing, I held back as long as I could,
but the boy's eager response took me past the point of restraint.  My hips
bucked wildly, and then I thrust up into him, locking myself against his
arched body.

   We hung for a moment, holding our breaths...  Then I came into him with
an explosive burst of hard contractions.

   Afterwards I held the boy as he pressed against me hugging very tightly.


   "Feel good?" I whispered, stroking my palm across his lanky shoulders.

   He nodded, squirmed, and then pleaded, "I doan' wanna' go away.  I
wanna' stay with you."

   "That's what I want, too," I assured him.

   "You're nice." The boy rubbed his hand on my back.

   Later, when he had fallen asleep, I pulled on a pair shorts and then
picked the boy up and carried him in my arms like a child down to the
basement.  In the small bedroom I tucked him naked beneath the sheets,
leaned over to kiss his hair and then, unlocking the bathroom door and
leaving it open for him, I went through to Jacob's room locking that
connecting door behind me.

   My young warrior was lying naked on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
The only light in the room came from the TV where there was a movie
playing, but the boy was not watching.  When he turned his head as I came
in I could see the gleam of his eyes in the flicker from the TV screen.

   Jacob came into my arms as I stretched out next to him and cuddled
close. "The other kid's all set," I told him after we kissed.  "He's a
little taller than you, not much - and maybe a little older.  But you're
definitely stronger.  The only thing you'll need to watch out for is, he's
left-handed."

   "Uh-huh." Jacob nodded, but I could tell he was not really listening by
the way his hips squirmed as he rubbed his hard penis on my thigh.

   "Pay attention," I told him sternly, lifting my head so I could look
directly into the boy's eyes.  "Fighting a lefty is harder.  You have to
reverse your guard, and the attacks come from a different angle.  I want
you to visualize that as you warm-up, okay?"

   "Yes Joe," the boy answered solemnly.

   I took a deep breath, and then pulled him close hugging fiercely.  "I
just don't want you losing because of something dumb."

   Jacob hugged back and then squirmed to rub himself on me while I stroked
down his smooth back and firm silky butt.

   "Joe?"

   "Yeah."

   "If I get killed you'll be like really sad, won't you."

   The boy stated this with absolute assurance because he knew it was true.
Closing my eyes I hugged him so tight I felt him tremble.  "Just make me
proud of you," I said, forcing the words passed a thickness in my throat.
"Just make me proud."

   Using the remote I turned off the TV and then we lay in each other's
arms in the darkness with Jacob listening again to all the stories he loved
so much.  Later he begged to be taken and I put him on his side, entering
gently and then sliding all the way in as he shuddered in pleasure.  With
slow deliberate strokes on his rigid penis I brought the boy to climax,
prolonging the final moment for him as long as I could because it was no
longer possible for him to repeat the way he once had.  With hard
convulsive jerks he spurted arcs of white sperm onto a towel and then,
after I had slipped out of him, Jacob cuddled, pressing against me,
gradually falling asleep while I caressed him.

   When I awakened in the dark the next morning Jacob and I were sleeping
together like spoons.  The boy had his butt nestled in my groin and my arm
was around his chest protectively.  There was absolute silence in the house
and for a while I lay there listening to the sound of the boy's soft
breathing, and then very carefully, so as not to disturb him, I got out of
the bed.

   Upstairs the kitchen was full of light.  I prepared a set of breakfast
shakes and drank mine looking out at the pool, thinking back to the time
over a year before when I had first brought Jacob home and locked him into
the small bedroom.

   Outside, when I checked, the air felt warm and after looking up at the
clear sky I went back downstairs to wake Jacob.  In the dim bedroom, light
from the open door spilled across the sleeping boy's face giving him the
look of a drowsing faun.  I knelt beside him, stroked tenderly and his eyes
flickered open.  He rolled onto his back, stretching and yawning.

   "Is it time?"

   "Yeah.  Time to get ready."

   I helped him sit up and the boy leaned against me cuddling, so I picked
him up and carried him upstairs with his arms around my neck.  In the
kitchen after I put him on his feet he leaned back against me, blinking
sleepily, with his long straight hair tickling against my bare stomach
while he sipped his breakfast drink.

   "It's nice out," I said as he finished.  "Wanna' take a quick dip?"

   Jacob pulled his head back to nod at me

   The pool's sparkling water lapped around our naked bodies when we went
in and I rode Jacob around while he splashed happily.  Then I tossed him a
few times, something he always loved, and each time he went up into the air
he laughed with delight.

   "Not too much," I cautioned after just a few tosses.  "You have to stay
fresh for your match."

   But he begged two more throws out of me before I insisted on our
stopping.

   "We'll get you ready in my bedroom," I told him, lifting the boy up onto
the deck.  When I hopped out he lifted his arms for me to help him onto his
feet and then we went into the house.

   After we dried off Jacob let me tie his hair back and then I took a
stance like a left-handed fighter and did some mock skirmishing with him.
"See how you have to change your guard?"

   "Uh-huh."

   "I want you to be visualizing that while you warm-up."

   "Okay."

   Jacob was beginning to focus now and stared at himself in the mirror,
standing quietly while I applied his makeup.

   "If I win, then next time I can fight in front of people, can't I Joe?"

   "That's right.  I'll take you to that place."

   When I finished spreading the coconut oil, his young muscular body was
glistening and he posed for me, showing off.  The white lines of the scars
were crisscrossed over his tanned chest and stomach, and his long blonde
hair spilled like gold on his shoulders.

   "I'm so proud of you," I whispered, pumping my fist and his eyes
flashed.

   Going down to the basement he asked, "Are we like fighting bare again?"

   "Nope, this time you wear Speedo's."

   I got one for him from the wardrobe cabinet in his room and he slipped
it on.  The scrap of silky nylon was high cut, showing off the boy's
gleaming hips and Jacob looked down admiring himself.  "I like this one."

   "Yeah.  I know you do."

   I loaded the match weapons into the van and then Jacob got in, carrying
his overmantle.  He was silent during the drive, but as we pulled up at the
door to the warehouse he turned to look at me and said, "Joe, if like I get
deaded..."

   "I know.  I won't let the other kid do it."

   He nodded and then reached for my hand and pulled it on to the hard
swell of his thigh.  "Don't let it hurt, Joe...  And don't let me poop. 
Please..."

   "I won't." With a squeeze of his leg I tried to give him reassurance. 
"You know I'll stay right with you."

   Jacob nodded again and then said, "I'm ready..."

   Getting out, I unlocked the warehouse entrance, holding it so that Jacob
was screened from view as he climbed off the seat of the van and went
through.

   Inside the air was warm and dust motes drifted in the bars of light that
slanted through the windows onto the cage.  I walked around adjusting the
cameras, making sure all the video was on and then nodded to Jacob.  He had
donned his overmantle and now stalked toward me, his oiled body flashing as
it caught the sunlight.  I locked him into the cage and the boy started the
posing sequence that led into his warm-ups.

   "I won't be long," I called from the door as I left, but already his
sight was inward and I doubt he heard me.

   Back at the house, when I unlocked his door, Brandon was still asleep,
stretched out with arms flung over his head, and at first it was difficult
to wake him, but once his eyes opened he sat up eagerly.

   "Are we doin' stuff?"

   "Yup," I said, rubbing his back.  "You're gonna' fight this morning. 
Remember?"

   "Yeah!" Brandon turned the sheet back to show me that his slender penis
was stiff and reached to pull my hand to it.  "Do me again!"

   "Later.  First let's see how good you can fight.  Then we can do it as
much as you want, okay?  But you gotta' win!"

   "Uh-huh," the boy nodded.  He allowed himself to be led naked up to the
kitchen and there drank the breakfast shake I gave him.

   "I'm strong!" He assured me, posing in the sunlit space as I caressed
his shoulders and kissed his hair.

   "You're my strong boy warrior," I told him.  "Fight hard today.  Show me
how good you are, just like the guys in the movie!"

   "I will!"

   The boy said nothing while I made him up and put the oil on him,
accepting it all because I was doing it for him.  Downstairs I had him don
one of Jacob's high cut Speedo briefs, which was very tight on him, and
then walked him to the van.

   "Where we goin'?"

   "There's a special place where you fight.  It's all set up with cameras
so everything can be on video.  I'll show you."

   "Awesome!"

   Just the mention of cameras and video had the boy excited.  He bounced a
little on the seat as I took the van out of the driveway, looking down at
himself, touching his nipples and his groin and then rubbing a finger
across his oiled belly.  "I look cool!"

   On the way to the industrial park Brandon peered out the window and
recognized a few landmarks along the highway because he suddenly turned to
me looking pathetically anxious and begged, "Don't take me back, Joe!  I
wanna stay with you."

   Immediately I reached over to rub his hard thigh.  "You know I wouldn't
do that, Brandon.  You're my warrior.  You can stay for as long as you
want. I'll never send you away, I swear."

   The boy took my hand and held it tightly until we made the turn into the
Industrial park and he was sure we were not going back to the motel.

   At the warehouse door he waited until I had the entrance ready and then
went in when I told him and looked around curiously.  His eyes lit up at
the sight of the cage.  "Cool!  Is that where I'm like gonna' fight?  A
cage match?  That is like so awesome!"

   Then he saw Jacob.  "Who's that?"

   I put a hand on his shoulder and got down on one knee beside him. 
"That's the kid you're gonna' fight.  He's a kid like in the movie.  He
thinks he's good, but I think you're better."

   "I'm gonna' beat him!" Brandon told me.

   "Yeah.  That's what I want you to do."

   The boy turned to look at me eagerly.  "It's like for real, ain't it? 
Like the videogame?  I get ta' take him out?  Like stab him an' shit?"

   "Yup.  It's all for real.  Just like in the movie." I stroked the boy
and cupped my hand on his hard rounded butt.  "Make me proud of you,
Brandon.  You're my boy warrior.  Take this kid out for me."

   The boy nodded wide-eyed.  "An' like later, we can do that stuff again?"

   "Anything you want," I assured him softly.

   He nodded again and I told him to wait.  Beckoning Jacob over I unlocked
the cage door.  "Leather," I said and held out my hand.

   The boy removed his overmantle, eyes glowing in the same way as when he
pulled me toward him and we lay naked together in the night.  I offered a
vial of cocaine and he snorted it, tossing his head back, and then closed
his eyes as the drug hit.  When I handed him a sword and javelin I could
see his sturdy body trembling with eagerness.

   "Remember," I told him a low voice.  "He's left-handed."

   Jacob nodded and returned to his far corner of the cage.

   I beckoned to the other boy and Brandon came to me, bouncing a little
with excitement on the balls of his feet.  When I offered him the cocaine
he stared and then looked up in disappointment.  "Ain't you got no ice?"

   "This is better for fighting," I told him.  "After this you can do all
the ice you want."

   "Okay." He snorted the powder awkwardly, sneezing and then shuddering as
it hit.  He gave me an excited look.  "That's good!"

   "Yeah." I handed him his weapons.  "Now get in there!  Show me what you
got!"

   With a last eager glance at me, Brandon passed into the cage and I
locked the door.  I began to recite my formula, "Only one of you leaves
this place alive," but neither boy was paying me any attention and before I
finished Brandon had lifted his sword into the air, holding it up in a
salute to Jacob, calling out in a high boyish voice, "Today we fight!"

   Lifting his own sword, Jacob answered back in his young alto, "Today we
fight!"

   Then both boys advanced in attack.

   Brandon's charge was no undisciplined rush the way Esteban's had been
over nine months before.  Using an aggressive onslaught copied from the
action he had watched, Brandon ran at Jacob ready to deliver an attack from
either side.  Jacob started to parry the javelin's sharp point and the
moment he committed, Brandon shifted his weight, taking a step forward to
bring his blade down in a smashing overhead stroke.

   There was a ringing 'Clang!' as Jacob blocked with his sword, but
despite my warning and his own preparations the boy was not used to
defending against left-handed attack.  The block was clumsy, allowing an
edge of Brandon's sword to slash the point of his right shoulder and blood
ran down his arm.

   The boys separated for a moment but Brandon was already sensing the
slight advantage he had in reach and height.  He lunged forward again,
knocking aside the feint Jacob offered with his spear, and delivered
another swinging overhand sword stroke.

   Jacob nearly missed blocking it, his reactions confused by the
unfamiliar side of the attack and the shift of weight he needed slowed by
the hitch in his right leg.  Brandon's sword deflected off the upraised
blade but its tip caught Jacob's right flank, slashing down across both
Speedo and groin crease, opening a deep cut on the front of his hip.

   A few inches closer to the groin and the sword would have found the
artery, ending the match very quickly, but Jacob was not disabled and now
it was Brandon who was off balance.  Jacob made a sudden thrust of his
blade, sinking the upper third of its length into Brandon's left side just
below the ribs, and then pulled it back very quickly mindful of not having
his weapon trapped.  The attack was over in an instant, but when the shiny
metal slipped out running with blood I knew the spleen had been penetrated
and that Brandon was doomed.

   The lanky boy jerked away, stung by the wound but not aware of how
deadly it was.  He stepped to his right and then with a cry launched into
another attack, jabbing his spear at Jacob's vulnerable belly while keeping
his sword ready for another slashing sweep.

   Twisting aside, letting Brandon's javelin tip pass harmlessly by his
waist, Jacob parried with a spear thrust of his own that tore a gash in the
other boy's right side just under his arm.  The two youngsters traded sword
strokes, metal blades ringing like hammers on anvils, and then in a flurry
of cuts both took slash wounds in their arms and chests.

   They broke apart for a moment, blood running down their glistening
bodies, and then Brandon made yet another attack, hacking at Jacob's up
raised guard.  The sword blades flashed, clanging again as my little
warrior countered, and after trading javelin thrusts that they both
avoided, the boys separated once more.

   Jacob's Speedo hung in bloody rags and he pulled it away to fight nude,
his eyes never leaving Brandon's.  Both boys were panting a little, Brandon
more than Jacob, and I watched closely for the first sign that the
penetrating wound to his spleen was taking effect.

   The boys circled warily and then it was Jacob who attacked and swords
clashed as the two youngsters stood posed for an instant, straining against
each other, muscles sculpted into relief by bars of sunlight.

   With a grunt Brandon tried to throw Jacob back, but his foot slipped and
the needled tip of Jacob's spear drove home into his right abdomen
penetrating the other boy's ridged sheet of muscle.

   Brandon pulled away and then was caught in the left chest above his
nipple by Jacob's sword blade.  For an instant the tip slipped between the
ribs, burying itself, and then Brandon jerked free and the boys separated
again.

   Perhaps the last thrust convinced Brandon that he was running out of
time, or perhaps he realized at last how badly injured he was.  Whatever
the reason, he suddenly opened his arms, holding out his weapons, pulled
his head back to give a shrill cry, and then with his sword blade raised
above his head and thrusting forward with his javelin, he charged.

   What happened next, happened very fast.  Screaming his own battle cry
Jacob charged as well.  The two boys came together in the middle of the
cage, their swords ringing off each other.  Jacob blocked Brandon's down
stroke perfectly and the other boy lifted his weapon to sweep it down
again, but Jacob's spear thrust in first transfixing the lanky boy beneath
his right ribs, penetrating both liver and lung to emerge out the back of
his left shoulder.

   Brandon screamed in fear and rage, bringing his sword down with all his
remaining strength and Jacob made another perfect block.  But he was over
focused on the sword hand.  It was his old weakness, the one I had never
been able to train out of him.  Brandon made a final thrust with the
javelin and its glistening needle tip pierced Jacob's smooth stomach just
below and to the left of his belly button, driving all the way through to
come out in the small of my young warrior's back on the right side.

   I saw Jacob's eyes widen as the spear shaft run through him and at that
moment I am sure he knew that he was dead, because he did what I had always
urged him to do.  Instead of flinching back from the thrust he stepped into
it, pushing further onto the javelin shaft.  Brandon was wide open, his
sword hand already falling away and the sweep of Jacob's blade cut deep
into his neck, slicing muscle, tendon and arteries.

   The lanky boy gasped, "Unnghhh..." and the sword dropped clattering from
his hand as he fell back.  Bright red blood poured from his open mouth.

   Choking, Brandon went sprawling onto the floor, jerking convulsively,
legs kicking and wiry body twisting as he fought desperately to breathe. 
Eyes staring in horror he arched up, hung there for a moment blood gushing
from his mouth, and then with a gurgle the dying boy sank writhing onto the
concrete.  Gradually there were fewer and fewer twitches, and at last he
was still.

   Clutching the javelin that had been driven through him and still holding
his sword, Jacob stood over his beaten opponent, staring at the death
agony. Then he staggered and dropped to his knees.  He was already toppling
by the time I had the cage door open.  I got to him barely in time to
gather him in.  Gently I took the sword from his hand and then laid him on
his side in the blood on the concrete.  The boy's face was ashen and when
he looked up at me I could see he was in pain.

   "He stuck me, Joe."

   "Yeah.  I know."

   He writhed, trying to pull at the impaling spear shaft and very tenderly
I moved his hands aside.  His eyes came back to mine.

   "Am I deaded?"

   Swallowing first to ease the lump in my throat I answered, "Yeah, kid.
It's right through you.  There's nothing I can do."

   Jacob's eyes closed for a moment while he writhed again, and then he
opened them to stare up at me.  "I beat him, Joe.  I did it like you said.
I killed him."

   "I know." My hand stroked his cheek and I leaned over him.  "I'm so
very, very proud of you."

   Reaching into a pocket I brought out another vial of cocaine and lifted
Jacob's head holding the vial to his nose.  "Take this."

   He snorted it, quivering at the pain the effort caused, and then almost
immediately relaxed as the drug took effect.

   "Better?"

   "Uh-huh." Turning Jacob tried to tug at the spear shaft again.  "It
feels like...  like when you're inside me...  Like way up..."

   "I know." Positioning the boy I took a grip on the shaft.  "I'm gonna'
get this out of you."

   "Okay."

   With a firm steady pull I slid the javelin back out of the boy and it
came free with a soft sucking sound.  Jacob shuddered and then sprawled
onto his back with his knees pulled up.  Despite everything the explosion
of the drug had his penis straining outward in jutting rigidity.

   "Fuck me, Joe," he begged, panting and staring up at me.  "Please?  Fuck
me.  I want you to."

   It was the only time I had ever heard him use the word.  He reached up
to tug at me desperately.  "Please?  Please, Joe."

   "All right."

   I stood up and, while I was stripping off my clothes, looked over at
Brandon.  The lanky boy was sprawled on his back in a pool of blood, left
shoulder propped up by the penetrating tip of Jacob's spear.  There was no
movement and his eyes were staring, but I went over and nudged him with my
foot anyway just to be sure he was dead.

   Jacob reached for me as I knelt to bend over him.  Now that the javelin
was out the puncture wound in his abdomen did not look that bad, but I knew
he was badly torn inside because blood and mucus oozed from his anal
opening when he stretched open his thighs.  The boy wrapped his legs around
my waist and then, when I entered him, gasped softly and tried to lift
himself so I could slide in deep.

   I took him fast, knowing the effect of the drug would be gone quickly
and moved in him, pumping my hips while he reached down to rub his
quivering penis.  Suddenly the boy hugged desperately, arching himself,
lifting his hips against my thrusts.  Throbbing contractions pulsed within
him and he gave a little cry, panting, "Ah!  Ah!  Fuck me!  Fuck me, Joe!
Harder!  Do it harder!"

   I thrust my hips faster, pounding against the boy's stretched anus as he
clung to me, quivering and heaving upward to drive me in as deep as he
could.  More throbbing rippled within his torn loins and he writhed against
me, crying out again, "Ahhhhh!  Ah!  Ah!  Harder!  Fucking me...  So hard!
Ah!  Joe..."

   With the shuddering boy warrior moving beneath me, and the smell of
blood and boy sweat in my nostrils, I went over the edge, ramming myself
into him again and again, pounding his stretched anus as he heaved against
me.  A sudden contraction made me stretch up into him as deep as I could
and Jacob groaned in pain or ecstasy, straining with arms and legs to pull
me in even farther.  I began pounding him again and the boy's head pulled
back as he arched, breaths coming in little gasps, "Uh!  Uh!  Uh!  Uh! 
Joe! Joe!  It's coming...  It's coming...  Ohhhhhhhhhhh..."

   Suddenly he was heaving again, rippling contractions throbbing in his
rectum, and then, arms and legs locked around me, he arched up like a bow,
mouth open in a soundless scream and his hard slender body jerking again
and again and again as he shot spurts of warm semen into the space where
our bellies slid over each other.

   I had been straining to hold back, trying to prolong it for him, but now
nothing could restrain the tide building within me.  With a final heave to
drive myself up into his body I locked my groin against Jacob's stretched
ass and in jerk after jerk emptied myself into him.  The boy moaned,
writhing and shuddering; then his hips bucked again as he came once more, a
second quivering series of hard spasms that jerked his entire body and left
him sprawled beneath me gasping for air.

   When it stopped, Jacob had his eyes closed.  I kissed him as his
breathing slowed and then his hands fell away from me.  Turning a little,
he stretched his left arm back behind his head to give me the side of his
chest.  His eyes opened to stare at me in appeal.

   "Don't let it hurt, Joe."

   I bent to kiss him again.  "You know I won't."

   I was still thrust up inside him and I kept myself in the boy as I
reached for his sword.  Jacob did not look at it, but kept his eyes staring
straight ahead while he stretched the left arm back as far as he could, his
mouth open part way.

   When the sharp tip touched the space between his ribs Jacob closed his
eyes, and then lifted up against the sword as I pushed, welcoming the blade
and letting it penetrate him.  Reaching over with his right hand, he
grasped the sword by its edges, tugging on it as I slid it in.

   "In me," he gasped, opening his eyes and pulling on the blade.  "In...
Ahhh...  Joe..."

   The boy shuddered, jerking as his heart was pierced, and then I felt the
sword hit bone on the other side of the chest.  I leaned over to whisper,
"I'm so proud of you."

   Jacob's eyes turned to mine and I saw a final flicker as he stared at my
face.  Blood welled up in his mouth, trickling out the side.  Then his legs
jerked twice, the stare became fixed and I felt the relaxation of his body
as he died.  His legs slid off my waist.

   Keeping my penis jammed into Jacob's anus I grabbed my shirt and then
withdrew, stuffing the cloth up into his rectum as a plug so he would not
foul himself.  I had kept my promise to him.  As his body settled urine
dribbled out of his penis, but the urine was clean and the amount was
small.
   ----------------- End of Chapter Six -----------------