A Bridge Too Far
Brynnan looked regretfully at the large hook that had been installed in the chamber ceiling. Its purpose, he was sure, was to support a chain and the claw collar, but Brynnan would have used it to exercise his upper chest and arms if it were not for the tendon damage to his wrists. For the past year, he had maintained his fitness by exercising in his place of confinement. There had been a handy bar in his previous cell, but the Warlord had confined him to this tower chamber after he had stumbled, the claw cuffs digging into his wrists.
His body was still firm; hard, rounded pectorals with erect nipples, curved triceps and contoured abdominal muscles defined his physique. He had a naturally lithe body, although he had inevitably lost body fat over the past year from being deprived of food on occasion and from the stress of daily beatings.
He was also sore: Samir the Warlord had fucked his ass the previous day. His big penis had penetrated all the way in. He made Brynnan cum and subjugated him. Brynnan analyzed his feelings with a detached mind: he was on the road to an unknown destination. All he knew was that the destination was likely to be a merciless place.
The chamber opened, and the young man assigned to attend his needs entered, carrying clothes and food. Brynnan couldn’t stand Firian. He was fair-haired and handsome, and he knew it. He constantly posed around the Bard or “accidentally” touched him. Brynnan would not let him assist in bathing his body, awkward as it was, although Firian tried to insist that it was his duty.
So Brynnan reacted with anger when he felt a hand stroking his thigh as he bathed. He turned and saw that Firian had undone his breeches and that he stroked a well-shaped cock as he stared hungrily at Brynnan’s half-naked body.
“Cover yourself,” he barked at the boy.
Firian pouted, “Don’t you want me inside your ass? I heard that you enjoyed yourself yesterday. Or you could fuck me instead.”
“The impertinence of you, insolent dog!”
Brynnan knew that the young man would never have spoken to him this way before his own fall from grace: a bard was traditionally given the utmost respect.
“Leave this chamber now, before Lord Samir hears of your disgraceful conduct,” Brynnan commanded.
Firian paled at the mention of the Warlord’s name. He fastened his breeches, picked up the soiled bedding and left, pushing past the guards stationed outside.
Very shortly after, the door opened again, and the two burly torturers, Efan and Kai, came in, followed by four guards. The torturers looked at Brynnan with knowing glances but said nothing. Instead, they brought out the manacles for his wrists and placed the box containing the collar on the table.
Efan went to unlock the chest. He patted his jerkin and swore, “I did not ask Lord Samir for the key.”
He and Kai shared a meaningful look.
“It doesn’t matter. Lord Samir will bring it,” Kai responded, stroking his dark beard thoughtfully, “In the meantime, we can use the ceiling hook and chain him.”
“What about the table?”
“We will leave some slack in the chain.”
“Is that safe?”
“He will not cross Lord Samir. You have seen it. Besides, the guards are here.”
Brynnan listened to their conversation with growing suspicion. Something about the exchange was off. Nevertheless, he allowed the two men to restrain him.
Again, he was stripped naked. This time they manacled his wrists together in front of him, rather than behind his back. Efan slung a doubled chain over the ceiling hook and then hooked one end to the plain iron wrist manacles. He pulled on the chain, raising the Bard’s arms, and fastened the other end of the chain to the wall. There was slack in the chain.
Brynnan’s suspicion deepened when they asked the guards to wait outside the door. Kai pushed him against the table.
“It’s too bad we can’t lower his head enough to reach you,” complained Efan.
“Then we will just have to take turns.”
Brynnan breathed deeply, trying to tamp down a growing rage. He heard rustling behind him.
“Grease it up good,” Kai laughed.
Without warning, a cock suddenly penetrated his ass, not pausing, as Samir had done, but ramming it all the way inside. While the cock wasn’t as large as Samir’s, the forceful push caused Brynnan sudden pain, and he cried out.
“Yeah, scream, you bitch,” Efan breathed in his ear. He seized the Bard’s hips in a muscular grip and started pumping rhythmically.
Something in Brynnan snapped. He pushed violently backwards with an elbow to Efan’s face, then continued the motion into a spinning turn on the chain, sweeping his leg and planting a solid kick straight into the torturer’s throat. There was no clawed collar or cuffs to stop him. Efan immediately dropped like a stone, clutching his throat and making horrible rasping sounds as he rolled in agony.
Kai rushed forward to his partner, at the same time shouting for the guards. The guards ran in. Seeing the situation, they converged on Brynnan and beat him with the clubs from their belts. One of them unhooked the wall chain, and Brynnan went down, the guards piling on top of him.
“HOLD!” a deep and angry voice roared from the doorway.
The chaotic tableau froze, except for the injured torturer, who continued to thrash about on the floor.
The Warlord strode into the chamber. His gaze was pure ice. His anger was palpable.
“Off him!” he commanded the guards.
They cautiously stood as if expecting an attack from the man they had been beating. Brynnan pulled himself to a sitting position. His face was bruised and bloody, as was his chest and arms.
“Who gave you permission to mark my property?” Samir’s voice had a cold, flat, dangerous quality.
The guards hung their heads. Kai protested, “See what he did to Efan! He attacked him!” Kai seemed to realize the implications of what he had just said and was promptly silent.
The Warlord’s gaze slowly swept the room, taking in the chained Bard, the table, and Efan’s still exposed cock, now flaccid. Samir walked over to the prostrate torturer. Kneeling, he put a hand to the man’s throat and felt it with his fingers. After some moments, he stood and addressed Kai.
“He is fortunate. He will live. His larynx is not crushed, but it is damaged.”
“The prisoner intended to kill him!” Kai protested.
“I think not. Or Efan would have been dead.” Samir turned his icy gaze on the Bard.
Brynnan slightly bowed his head in acknowledgement.
Samir looked back at the guards, “All of you will be disciplined.” He turned again to Brynnan, pointing directly at him, “You especially.”
“What about Efan?” Kai asked.
“Guards, take this man to the healers. In the meantime,” Samir indicated to Kai, “unchain the Bard, completely.”
The torturer dared not disobey. He unchained the silent Bard and left with the guards and the unfortunate Efan.
Lord Samir and Brynnan looked at each other for a long moment. When Samir spoke, it was with a note of regret. “I will come this evening and punish you myself. It will be severe.”
Samir then left, leaving the bruised Bard to his reflections.
* * *
