The Words Will Set Us Free - 2. Chapter 2

Breakfast was similar to supper only this time Gregor didn’t speak his wish. A simple thought of two eggs, four thick slices of bacon, and a slab of warm bread covered with sweet honey made them appear on the tin plate. He tried to fill the tankard with ale, but got fresh milk instead, which set him to thinking again about this place full of magic and, yet, so much evil also. As he ate he wondered what being a pantry boy was. Was it as Roger said? Was he to go down to where the young men were killed and eaten? He’d rather die than suffer that punishment; or, maybe it was just to tidy up afterward. That probably wouldn’t be too bad once he accepted what he was actually doing.

After eating, his utensils cleaned themselves and returned to their place on the table as he watched. It was more magic than he imagined existed anywhere. The priest would’ve said it was of the Devil himself, but the way the knife and fork, tin plate and tankard, washed with the rag hanging in the window was simply amazing. The rag wrung itself and returned to its place to dry in the breeze coming into the room.

He wondered about his clothes. Would they dress him if he asked? That seemed slothful to expect magic to do everything for him, but the clothes did present themselves at the appropriate moment. The tights definitely emphasized the skinniness of his legs and left little room for his manliness, causing him to think about what Roger said about the Master wanting him in his bed. Was the Master going to fuck him once he’d been here long enough to willingly submit to the Master’s desires? Was that what this was all about? Was that why he was alive rather than hanging in the dungeon like a hunk of meat? He shuddered hoping that wasn’t as true as Roger implied. He positively did not want to be on the receiving end of an aroused Master, especially if it was actually the monster he’d met yesterday.

As he walked down the stone steps to the castle’s great room where still a fire crackled over large logs in a huge fireplace, Gregor kept wondering what was to become of him. Death was certainly a possibility whether by the monster’s claws or his own hand. Did he have the determination to fall through the latrine opening to the waiting rocks below? Would he submit to the Master as Roger said? Was that in him? He couldn’t see himself in a position such as that.

The great room was empty except for a mop standing in a pail of water. Gregor looked at it for a moment and could have sworn it stood up straight when he walked into the room. The way it stood there suggested it was waiting for him to make use of it and clean the room. Instead, he went looking for Roger.

“Doesn’t understand, that’s what it is,” Roger’s voice could be heard down a long hallway. “He just can’t take a boy, even if he is practically a man. He’s still too young. It’s the curse getting him, again. He thinks it doesn’t know, but it does. They all knows, even them dead ones’ bones in the cellar. Pantry boy my ass! That boy was brought here for one reason. It’s the curse I tell you.”

Turning a corner, Gregor saw Roger standing before a large table where he is cutting up meat. Immediately a thought of last night’s victim crossed his mind.

“Hello,” Gregor said. “I heard you talking and wondered what I should be doing, right now. Do you have some work for me?”

“The Master wants to talk to you in the library,” Roger said without looking up. “Back to the great room, hallway directly across, third archway on the left, door’s at the end. Big room, lots of books and such. Ever seen a book? No, didn’t think so. From those rural places. Scrolls maybe, but not books. Not yet anyway. Someday, someday lots of books out there. Not now, though. You need to mop the great room and all the tower steps today. I’d do it, but putting on a fresh pot of stew. We have meat. Went out with him down there. Bought a cow, well took it and left money. Same as buying, you know. Left the silver coins right where cow stood. He gutted and skinned it right there in the pasture. We get some. He’ll take rest. Can’t go in daylight. Farmers scared of the carriage. Know where it comes from.”

“I heard, last night,” Gregor started.

“No! No! Mustn’t talk of that. Master doesn’t allow that. What happens below is not our business. Never, ever, talk about that. Never! Now, go see what he wants.”

Gregor walked out of the kitchen and headed back toward the great room. This was getting stranger and stranger. Plus, the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to be involved with it, but what was his choice?

“Let’s see third archway on the left,” Gregor said to himself and he walked down the hallway. Torches lit the length of it, but looking up he couldn’t see a ceiling. It was as if the walls reached all the way up into the darkness of night. At the third archway he turned left and saw, far down the hallway the library door. He thought of knocking, but lifted the handle and slowly pushed in the door.

“Close the door and come back here,” a voice called out from among many shelves full of books and scrolls. The light wasn’t much better in there than out in the hallway, but there was a definite path through the shelves leading to a broad table with carved wooden panels enclosing the space between the legs. The carvings were of strange creatures chasing naked men through enormous flames. That must be Hell, Gregor thought.

The person, or rather man, on the other side was sitting on a stool looking out a large glass window that brightened this one spot in the castle. Outside a garden full of all sorts of plants and trees, including a great oak bigger than the one in his village, were bathed in sunlight. The man was wearing a tunic of light leather held by a silver belt inlaid with gold leaves. The leggings were of similar leather.

“M’lord wished to see me?” Gregor asked looking down at the desk.

“Yes, I wanted to meet with you since I didn’t get to last night,” the Master said.

Gregor thought about that statement and couldn’t figure out how that was possible. Was the man before him different than the monster? Was this the man he would have to submit to?

“Look at me. Come on, lay your young eyes upon my countenance,” the Master said with words nearly beyond Gregor’s understanding.

Gregor looked up and saw a young man not much older than himself. The hair was dark, but appeared to be as soft and wavy as his own. The blue eyes stared out from under dark, bushy brows above a narrow pointed nose. The lips were thin and overall the face was narrow and thin, too.

“Do you find me attractive?” the Master asked with a strange smile.

“Uh, well, I don’t know, m’lord, some would say you were certainly handsome,” Gregor said not wanting to go anywhere near a positive answer. He didn’t want to show any willingness, not now, not so soon.

“But not attractive, that’s about as truthful I should expect so soon in our relationship. I’m certain we’ll get to attractive at some point. Yes, I’m almost positive you’ll discover I’m quite attractive. How did the monster treat you? Were you scared?”

“Yes, m’lord,” Gregor said, knowing at last one of his questions was answered. He tempted fate with a statement rather than a question. “I’d heard he ate people.”

“Men, he only eats young men, much like yourself, but he told me he took a liking to you and thought I might enjoy you as I’ve enjoyed many a young man in my long life. He’s not me, by the way. You might say he’s my own personal devil. He tempts me with young men like you. Others he takes for his own pleasure. You heard the screams?”

“Yes, m’lord,” Gregor said, wondering why Roger said that subject was forbidden.

“Do you know what they meant?” Master asked. “Do you have any inkling as to what was causing those screams?”

“Yes, m’lord, Roger told me about the monster in the dungeon. I assumed he was torturing a victim.”

“It’s much more than torture, I assure you. Maybe, if you’re here long enough he’ll show you some of his work. It’s very gruesome.”

“He said I was to be his pantry boy,” Gregor said hoping the Master would help him stay out of the dungeon. It was a long shot, but he had to try. This place was getting stranger and stranger.

“Oh, he did, did he? Well, I know he likes you now. And I’ll have to keep a watch on you as well. Maybe he wants it to be a race this time. We’ve had races before. He’s won more than I, but winning only gives so much satisfaction and I do not mind taking sloppy seconds. I know you’re probably confused about all of this, but knowledge will come in time. Do you know how old I am?”

“No, m’lord.”

“Next week I’ll be nine hundred and seventy-two and look at me, not a day over twenty-five when I was put in this place. I’m tired of it, though. I wish for a solution to the curse. That’s what all the books are about, solutions. Do you know how to read?”

“A little, m’lord.”

“Excellent! Finally, I have someone to help me. You don’t know how good that makes me feel. Have you ever kissed another man?”

“No, m’lord,” Gregor said, steeling himself against the expected assault. Was it to happen this quickly? Would the Master tear his clothes off before the act or just pull his tights down sufficiently to do with him as he pleased?

“Not ever a brother, your father?”

“Well, yes, them, m’lord, but it wasn’t like, well, it was just like goodbye and such.”

“Wasn’t like what? Come on, you can speak freely.”

“It wasn’t like what Roger said I was brought here for. To be in your bed, he said. To do sinful things with you, he said”

“Ah, yes, Roger. He’s been here a long, long time. He’s nearly seventy now, here, but out there where he came from, where the monster found him, he’d be closer to two hundred. Time moves at a different pace here, but Roger’s been here much too long, more than fifty years, I guess. His time is nearly at an end. Someday soon the monster may just take Roger on a tour of the dungeon and he’ll never come back. Pity that. Does that sound wrong?”

“I can’t say, m’lord,” Gregor said trying not to imagine being taken down to his death, babbling the whole way.

“No, I don’t suppose you can,” the Master said. “Now, I want you to let me kiss you. Come here. Come here!”

Gregor slowly walked around the table as the Master stood up. It was plainly obvious the Master was aroused, but the bulge seemed small for a man, not that Gregor was in the habit of looking in that part of a man’s person. Gregor tried to keep that in the back of his mind.

“Look up at me. Have you ever kissed, properly? With your tongue?”

“Once or twice when I was younger, m’lord,” Gregor said thinking of the two girls in the village who allowed boys to kiss them. It was rumored that some boys got more than a kiss, but Gregor was too different to go further.

The Master held Gregor’s chin as he leaned into the boy until their lips met for just a moment. Gregor tried to resist, but the other hand firmly held his arm. It was fruitless to resist and so he gave into the Master’s desire.

“There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” the Master said.

“No, m’lord.”

“Now, one more before I let you go,” the Master said as he pulled Gregor into an embrace.

This time the Master held Gregor firmly against his body as his tongue sought access to the young man’s mouth. Gregor held out as long as he could, wanting to stop what was certain to occur, but it was useless to resist. The Master’s tongue was very long and reached back nearly to Gregor’s throat. It sought its own pleasure as Gregor felt the Master’s arousal against his leg, rubbing itself on his thigh, all the while he held him tightly in the embrace. And then it was over and the Master released him.

“Not bad for your first time,” the Master said. “I know your heart wasn’t in it, but you’ll come around. I know you will. You may go now and do whatever Roger has devised for your duties, but I want you in here every morning from now on helping me to find a solution to the curse. And, one thing, if the monster should ask, do not let him take you down into the depths of the castle so soon. No use in encouraging him in a race. Besides, you just might not make it back.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

- - - - - - - -

When Gregor closed the library door he audibly sighed with relief. The kiss hadn’t led to anything more, though the Master must have achieved the satisfaction he wanted. What was troubling at the moment, though, was finding some way to escape this place. According to the Master he might be older and, worse, everyone he knew might be dead by the time he figured out a way to escape. He knew he’d end up having to think this over completely before finding a solution to his problem. Without a doubt, it was going to take time, a lot of time, maybe too much time. When he arrived in the great room he noticed the pail and mop had moved.

“The steps and this room, well, mop looks like we’ve a lot of work to do,” he said to no one in particular.

Immediately, the mop rose up out of the pail and rung itself out. Then it put itself onto the floor and began to work itself around the large room.

“Wait a minute. Wait a minute! I think I’m supposed to be doing that,” Gregor exclaimed. There simply was too much magic in this place. “What am I supposed to do? Do you expect me to sit in a chair and watch you?”

The mop didn’t slow its work, but a wooden chair clattered across the floor and waited behind him in anticipation.

“Now just wait a minute here,” Gregor said as he sat down in defeat. “This isn’t supposed to work like this. Roger said I was supposed to do the mopping, not to watch the mop do it.”

“It’s best to just watch,” a voice said overhead to Gregor’s left. He looked up and saw a huge iron candelabra hanging by a massive chain from supposedly a ceiling hidden in the darkness above. A raven stood on one rail between two candles.

Gregor shook his head and turned back to watch the mop.

There was a flutter of wings followed by a sharp peck in his back.

“Hey!” Gregor exclaimed, turning to see the raven eyeing him. “Get your own chair.”

Not too unexpectedly, another chair clattered across the stone floor where the raven positioned itself facing Gregor.

“You’re pretty good at that,” the raven said. “Anyone ever say you had a knack for magic?”

“No, and I don’t,” Gregor said, studying the raven. “It’s this place that’s doing it.”

“Uh, uh, wrong again. This place has the potential, but you’re doing all of this on your own.”

“You know, you sound pretty intelligent for a black bird.”

“Don’t be a smart ass with me, kiddo,” the raven said as it scratched its bill on the edge of the wooden chair. “You’re in no position to make enemies around this place.”

“Meaning the monster down in the cellar wouldn’t see any problem with having me for lunch,” Gregor said, shuddering at the thought he could say that so soon after arriving.

“He’s not going to eat you. You’re too valuable to be killed. No, a couple years locked in your tower is more likely.”

The mop, followed by the pail, floated over to where Gregor sat with the raven. They patiently awaited further instructions.

“I think they want to talk to you,” the raven said looking over at the mop.

“Did you do all the tower steps?” Gregor asked.

The mop didn’t move.

“Do I take that as a yes or a no?” Gregor asked no one in particular.

“Don’t look at me, I get into enough trouble talking to humans let alone mops,” the raven said.

“The pail needs to change his water and then the both of you get busy on the steps up all three towers,” Gregor said.

The pail floated off toward the kitchen or, rather, down that same hallway. Gregor didn’t actually know its destination, but figured the magic could take care of the details. It certainly was doing a good job of that so far. The mop waited.

“It’s kind of unnerving the way it just stands there,” Gregor said.

“Doesn’t have a mouth, can’t talk,” the raven said.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Gregor said. “Do you think I could give it the ability to talk?”

“No, I wouldn’t recommend that,” the raven said.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. It’s bad enough talking to a monster, a Master who is centuries old and wants in my pants, a loony butler making stew in the kitchen, and you, of course. How is it you can talk?”

“Dunno, been like this for years. Me dad and mum done it too. Drives the tourists batty. Think they’re talking to Old Fiery Pants himself.”

“What are tourists?” Gregor asked baffled at the way the raven spoke.

“Pilgrims they are. On their way up to the chapel of Saint What’s-his-name. On the next mountain over. Lovely place all neat and tidy. The hermit does a good job of it. He don’t mind me talking as long as I don’t interrupt his prayers. You pray?”

“Haven’t in a while. Our priest has the whole valley so we don’t see him but a few times a year.”

“You could pray between, you know, like by yourself out in the woods. Or do you do that thing with your hand and thingy when you’re out in the woods?”

Gregor stared at the raven. Of course he did that thing with his thingy in the forest. Where else was he to do it? Certainly not at home. There weren’t more than a couple partitions in their thatched wattle-and-daub hut. You could go out back, but everyone in their neighborhood used the latrine and, besides, it was a two-seater. Likely as not some young mother would bring in her little boy about the time you got to thinking those thoughts and your member rose up for the occasion.

The pail came back. Rather, Roger came into the room carrying the pail. Roger didn’t look too pleased.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Uh, a pail of water,” Gregor answered.

“It came into the kitchen by itself and poured dirty water into the sink by itself and went out into the courtyard and filled itself with clean water and was doing all that as if I was there to watch. Were you making it do that? Were you?”

“No, I just told it what to do, not where to go to do it. I suppose it just knew what to do since it’s been doing that for years.”

“What’s that raven doing in here? And, the mop, how’s it standing all by itself? Are you a sorcerer? A witch? Are you doing magic? Because if you are a witch, the Master is going to be mad. Do you hear me boy?”

“Yes, I hear you.”

“Well?”

The Master came out about then and everything quickly went from bad to worse. What with Roger rambling on and on about the mop and water pail and the raven, there wasn’t much Gregor could add.

Of course, the raven didn’t help at all when he added his two cents, “Give the laddie a break. He’s new around here.”

The Master looked at Roger, then at the raven, then at the mop and pail, and finally his eyes bore into Gregor. He practically screamed, “To your room and take that bird with you.”

Gregor beat a hasty retreat up his tower steps and slammed down the trap door sending a resounding boom throughout the castle. The raven hopped over to the window where it stood quietly. Gregor sat on his bed for a moment before lying down and staring at the ceiling. It was then he noticed another door set into the wood above him.

“You didn’t have to say anything,” Gregor said finally. All of this was too strange and it was getting stranger as the day went on. Next, he fully expected the monster to appear in the room and devour him. In many ways, that might not be a bad solution to his current situation.

“I was only trying to help,” the raven said. “Besides, the dukeling ain’t too bad once you get to know him. We’ve spoken lots in the past. He’s a right nice sort of chap once you get to know him, that is.”

“Wait a minute, where exactly are you from?” Gregor asked. “You keep changing the way you talk.”

“Imitation my boy, imitation is what it is,” the raven said. “That wee bit of gray matter in our heads isn’t big enough for us to talk proper so we just imitate what we’ve heard people say. It gets a bit jumbled sometimes, but that’s usually when I’m nervous. Do you want me to go so you can play with your thingy?”

“What? I’m not going to do that!” Gregor exclaimed wondering where that question came from. Why was the raven so interested in his thingy, as he called it?

“I was just saying that I need to pop out for a bit to get a bit of victuals and thought you might want to play with your thingy whilst I was out. I don’t want to watch mind you. I’m not that kind of bird. I’ve met them kinds hiding up in the tree limbs giggling and chattering all sorts of things while laddies play with their thingies down below. So, if you want, now is the time.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Gregor said. “Will you just get off talking about me doing that? Please?”

“It’ll relax you, you know.”

“Stop it. Why don’t you just leave?”

There was a flutter and a soft breeze filled the room. Gregor pulled the quilt over his body and tried to sleep. Everything was just too confusing, too confusing for him to understand. Sleep was what he needed. Sleep to take all of this away and put him back down beside the river where he was probably sleeping right now. That’s what this was. A dream, it was just a dream and if he went back to sleep he’d wake up back on his journey to his uncle. He’d turn around and go back down the valley and away from all of this.

Sleep wasn’t the only thing that came to him that afternoon. A presence quietly came up the steps, opened the trap door, and placed a few drops of sweetish syrup on Gregor’s lips. He instinctively licked the substance and a deeper sleep overtook him. He slept on and on as days lengthened into weeks and months. Or was it only a dream?

He dreamt other things, less desirable things. He dreamt of being naked in a huge bed covered with feather quilts and satin sheets. There was someone else in the bed with him, someone unseen yet fully present. Warm hands wandered over his bare skin. Moist lips met his before following those warm hands down and across his body. Spasms of pleasure coursed through him as the moist lips, the hot tongue, enveloped him, down there. He couldn’t imagine feeling like that ever in his life.

Then later in another dream he was back on that bed, but this time it was different. The soft quilts and shiny sheets were replaced with course linens. Manacles around his wrists were chained to the bedposts. He couldn’t move his legs either. He was face down this time and felt. What was it he felt? What happened in that room? He had been securely fastened to the bed, but what happened to him?

Then he felt blood trickle down his legs. A deep, burning pain focused inside him back there, down there. Blood gushed from him and, straining to look back, he saw the monster lapping the blood, his blood, as it flowed freely out of his body.

- - - - - - - -

Gregor awoke to a darkened room lit by only one candle. The raven was perched on the screen in front of the latrine. He was naked. He looked around and saw his clothes neatly folded on a shelf. There were more clothes, too, and more slippers and a pair of shiny, black leather boots. He was hungry.

He thought of roasted venison and butter slathered potatoes and a tankard of ale. Soon the room was filled with the flavors he desired and he sat down to take his repast.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” the raven said after it flew over to the window. “Do I get any of that or do I have to go find a squirrel run over by a cart, which is hard to find considering how slow carts go these days. Usually it’s the real dumb squirrels that get squashed, but a dead squirrel is a dead squirrel. Not much meat, but nummy innards. Vegetarians mostly, don’t get that foul stench from their innards. You eat innards? Probably do. I’d guess hearts, livers, kidneys, and them lower guts too. Sausages, right? Am I right?”

“Miss me?” Gregor asked taking a moment between bites of savory meat.

“No, I had the dukeling to talk to, when I wasn’t out being a regular bird, that is. I am a bird you know. Have to do bird things now and then.”

“Yes, that’s more than obvious.”

“Good, because I didn’t want you to think I was one of those supernatural beings around here. We have enough of them as it is.”

“Yes. Do you want a bit of venison? I suppose I could get you a squirrel if you wished.”

“No, venison is good. Maybe a whole slice, if you don’t mind?”

It appeared on the sill at the raven’s feet.

“You’re good, you know. Really good.”

They ate in silence, left to their own thoughts. Gregor tried to remember some of the dreams he’d had, but those memories were already quickly fading. He knew his only chance was figuring out some way of escaping. He thought of shrinking and having the raven fly him to that hermit he spoke of earlier, but from what he knew of ravens, he’d be seen as an easy meal rather than a future source of unlimited slices of venison. Well, there was Roger. He’d said that he went out and bought a cow. What if he could convince the Master to let him go and then not come back? The only problem with that was he didn’t know anything about driving a carriage and the monster would have to take him. He was fairly certain he couldn’t trick the monster and more than likely magic wouldn’t work on the brute either.

What about the Master? Was there a way out through him? Gregor would have to think about that. The Master was a strange man. There was that kiss that first morning. Was that only yesterday or sometime long ago? How long had he been asleep? That kiss, that kiss. He’d kissed girls before, but the Master kissing him was different. There seemed to be an urgency in him as if he couldn’t wait for something. And, then, yes! The little jerks from the Master just before he dismissed him. When would he have to submit to the Master completely?

“Is that ale?” The raven asked after it had flown down from the window.

“Yes, want some?”

“No, makes me head fuzzy and all. Can’t fly straight neither. And woof! The farts is something horrible. Gassy, too much gas in that stuff.”

“Do you have a name?” Gregor asked, amused at the raven’s honesty.

“Why do you ask? Want to get friendly? Get all kissy-kissy? Well, I’m not that kind of bird.”

“Then you don’t have a name.”

“Oh, I have a name. Me dad called me Dummy most of the time. Mum was either calling me Shut Up or Come Here. But the dukeling says I remind him of his older brother Harold, so that’s what he calls me. Harold is my name. Ever know any Harolds?”

“No.”

“Pity that, as Harold got to be king when their dad died. The dukeling is a Willy or was when their dad put him here. You know he does it with boys?”

“I’ve heard that.”

“Suppose so. Roger was it?”

“Yes,” Gregor said thinking again of the sight of the Master’s arousal and the forcefulness of the kiss. He looked down and saw some arousal in himself. Could he really do it with the Master? It would be Master to servant, of course. Following orders, sort of doing things for his papa or mama, like dumping out the night soil, a chore he didn’t like, but had to do if he wanted to keep living with his parents. Where else would he have gone? He had no one but them and they sent him away because his youngest brother was to be their village smith, not him.

“Do you think it would be okay for me to go down in the morning?” Gregor asked.

“Don’t see why not,” the raven said. “The dukeling was saying the other day how much he missed you. He wants you, you know.”

“Yes, we’ve gone over that already.”

“You know you shouldn’t do it no matter what he says to you. Doing it with you will only keep him here longer.”

“Look, I’m not that way. I don’t do it with other men, but he’s my Master and I must do as he says.”

“Well, there is that, but you shouldn’t do it if you can stop it. You could make him mad. That would force him to put you back up here. You could keep that up until you were old enough not to be attractive.”

“I don’t want to stay here. I have to figure out a way to get out, preferably before I end up in the Master’s bed or down in the dungeon.”

“Well, why didn’t you say that’s what you wanted? Make yourself some wings and fly out.”

“What about the monster?”

“Oh, well, yes, there is that, too. He wouldn’t kill you though, not him. You’re still too valuable, too attractive to the dukeling.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Gregor said. “I need to sleep on this. You’ll be okay?”

“Oh, sure, hop right back up there where I was. Thanks for the slice of victuals.”

“Sure, good night, Harold.”

“Sexy dreams, Gregor.”

“Oh, shut up!”

Sleep came quickly and soon dreams followed. They were peaceful at first, but toward morning Gregor once again sensed a presence in his room. He wanted to wake up to see who it was, but nothing he tried seemed to work. Or was that part of the dream, too? A cold, naked body lay down next to him, drawing warmth from his bare skin. Familiar warm hands moved over him touching, pinching, tweaking, and rubbing in all the places that now aroused him. Soon cold lips pressed against his and he felt the other’s body lay upon him. Also, he felt the other’s own arousal pressing against his bare skin.

Gregor wanted it to stop, but he didn’t at the same time. He wanted to push the body away while desiring to hold it against him. The other pressed his arousal against Gregor in an unfamiliar manner that suggested a movement akin to what he could only imagine happened between a man and woman. He tried to raise his arms to hold the other, but they wouldn’t move as if held by manacles and chains from another dream. And the thrusting against him continued until deep in the darkness of night he felt a shudder, a warmth, and a conclusion that wasn’t his.

The lips left his and moved down his body stopping to bite a nipple, to slather his navel, and to bathe his arousal in warm moisture. He wanted all of this to end, but the other was unstoppable until spasms of pleasure coursed through his body and his seed was taken once again.

He awoke with a start, but, save for the raven, the room was empty. He looked down at his deflating member and wondered who had been with him and how he had disappeared so quickly.