Thor’s Training 3 – In Bed

I had a hazy memory of getting into the passenger side of my Barracuda, the old bucket seat harder than my driver seat. I felt my shirtless back, sweaty in the cold air, stick to the leather.

I handed Lan my wallet. He asked me if I still lived where my license said. I nodded. God, my car was awesome. 424 engine with the raised inflow in the hood. Fresh smell of Armorall. I was so relaxed.

We drove for a while and the city bled by. Why didn’t I go shirtless anymore? Was it fear? I loved the cool air ruffling my chest and belly hair.

“Good boy. So happy to be naked in any way. Proud to show off all that fur,” Lan growled, like he was reading my mind. There was a musk rising off Lan that made the arteries in my neck pulse.

It felt so good to have someone else drive. Like I’d always wanted this. I put my big hand out the window and played with the wind as the pure sex rumble of the Cuda’s engine rumbled in my ass, making my cock start to climb in my pants again. It felt good. There was no shame, I didn’t wonder who was looking or not looking.

We were at my house. Lan was opening the door, talking on the phone. “Yes, it’s going very well, Miss R. We are at his home. You are welcome to chaperone if you have any concern,” Lan’s accent seemed thicker. I liked it. I stood in my living room. My house smelled a little like Cinnamon. It didn’t look like a man lived here. I’d slowly replaced all my shit with something from catalogs.

Lan’s hand was on my ass. I was standing tall, and I realized he had to go up on his toes to reach my ear. “You still want to be my Thor, to belong to me?” His small heavy hand felt like a warm anchor to life where it touched my big butt muscles.

I just nodded, smiling as the blood rushed to my cock and I became aware of my skin.

Lan brushed fingers across my left nipple. It had stood up, hard as a nail. My nipples are pink and about an inch and a half across, looking big even on my large frame. “Good boy,” he said and there was something about that word, boy that sent a dark thrill from his warm hand stroking my asshole through my pants, to my nuts, my cock, up through my belly, and into my heart where it blossomed.

“Think you can clean yourself?” he asked.

I nodded again. I smelled. If He wanted me clean, I’d be Mr. fucking Clean.

“Good. Go, boy,” the shiver of his voice tickling the back of my brain.

I smelled like soap. My taint smelled like soap. I kept checking, rubbing my finger down below my balls and smelling it. It smelled a little bit like me, still. I was laying on top of the sheets, warm everywhere. There was a candle on the chest at the foot of my bed, and a shadow that smelled like mansweat on my right side.

“Look into the candle,” Lan said. I was staring at the flame, but I wanted to be looking at him.

I was clean, he was dirty.

“Stop worrying about your cunt,” he growled. I bristled down inside my warm cocoon. “Yess, that’s right,” he hissed, seeing me tense. “Take all that you have left and pour it into the fire. Pour all that heat from having to be so in charge, so separate, when all you’ve ever wanted was to be a puppy to a real man…”

My heart was hot. I was glaring into the candle. As he talked, all the rage inside me, all the ways I had used boys because they demanded that I be in charge and i resented them poured through me. I expected the candle to flare up. It just burned there, steady.

“Good! Letting it all go,” he purred as the mansweat smell settled around me. He was kneeling behind my head, and i could feel the long snake of his cock unfurling against my hair, my beard. God I wanted to suck it. The heat pouring out of me starting slowly being replaced by desire, like an old pipe running clean.

He was working on my nipples, I realized. Stroking and tugging – alternating between the two. There was a deep sound in the room. I wanted to look for it, but the candle had snared me. I was melting down into the heat of his thick fingers as they started to grind my nipples slowly between them.

“Good boy,” Lan said. My cock was bouncing against my belly up and down with my heartbeat.

“Yes, and remember, every time I say good boy,” and heat shot from my nuts and ass through my cock as it jumped and leaked precum for the first time I can remember. The heat hit my heart, between where he was pulling and pulling on my big pink nipples, and expanded as I expanded and melted. Boys felt pleasure. That’s what they did. They surrendered, and opened, and felt pleasure.

The sound, the low grinding sound, was me moaning as this slab of masterful muscle worked and worked on my nipples as they slowly flared hotter and hotter.

“That’s right. Gooood boy,” he growled over me. Again, warmth from my nuts, my ass up my cock like a rocket – more precum oozed out into the golden fur of my heaving belly. My heart opened, I sank into the bed. Every time he said that word, this happened, and every time he said it he worked a little extra hard on my nipples, then eased back.

“Gotta get you a lot of endorphins for what’s coming, boy,” he said, leaning over me so his musk filled my mouth. The muscles of his belly flexed above my nose. He was using his mouth, sucking hard, and biting at my left nipple, nipping over and over as he used my precum to lube my right nipple as he worked it hard and and harder and harder.

“That’s it, good boy, good boy, good BOY. CUM NOW! OBEY!” and he pulled my nipples in a vicious vice grip.

My nipples have always been big and sensitive, but I was never that interested in them. Dudes could pull on em a little, but… now. The flood of heat from my tits down and back up. Feeling totally open, loved, vulnerable, taken care of… with someone in charge of me. He wanted me to obey him by cumming… I’m not sure I could have done anything else.

It hurt a little, the way the 2nd cum sometimes does. It was hot, spasms showing my abs over and over as I dumped muck up between my pecs, then on my belly, then drooling down to filter through my curly bush.

I remember Lan murmuring and murmring to me, and his hands on my body, my belly, my cock. I may have passed out for a little bit. In a dream, the warmth spread to my ass, some force lifted my knees ineluctably. Something cleaned my belly.

“…come back to me now, boy. Into my eyes,” he said in a soft deep voice that melted something in my chest and set fire to something else in my belly.

My green eyes were locked on his dark ones. There was a strap around the backs of my knees connected to the headboard. I was thoroughly warm and relaxed, my hips relaxed with a pillow under my ass and my knees in the air. Lan was there, between my legs in the middle like he was in the middle of my head now, dominating my thoughts.

His sweat smell was musky and amazing. There was the smell of my cum in the air, and the soft tang of soap.

I wanted him to fuck me like I had never wanted anything before in my life. I groaned.

Unbelievably, my cock was climbing toward hard again.

“That’s right, boy. Your new boss, your new master, is going to mark your beautiful formerly-free white ass now. Down the throat, replacing your will, up the ass, replacing your drive to do anything but obey.”

I groaned again. My ass was warm and open and full of some kind of lube. I could see his massive cock thumping, feel it pushing softly onto and away from my anus that was pulsing to try and pull him in. I hadn’t been fucked in a decade.

“Understand this. Letting me in is letting me in. It’s not your ass,” he leaned in a little and there was pleasure and pain as his foreskin stretched back and the thick meat of his cockhead stretched my hole. “It’s everything. When you open to me, you take me all the way into you,” his black gaze scoured through me. My heart sang, hot, my belly burned with horny passion. My cock bounced, looking way more than it’s 8 1/2 sturdy inches.

“All this PLEASURE,” and his voice scoured my nerves with pleasure. I almost came as his cock stretched my hole. My balls pulled up, “is giving in. Changing, now, as you always wanted. Just submission now. Leaving your self behind, existing just for Master Lan,” God I wanted him to shut the fuck up and fuck me, but I couldn’t even move my head, and the big muscles of my arms lay uselessly above my head.

“Opening now, opening more and more, more and more,” he set a soft rocking in the bed springs. Pressure. Release. Pressure. Release. The pressure of his cock almost inside me was heaven. The release of it almost slipping wetly off my anus was hell. I needed. I was just need and pleasure, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted him to shove his cock up so far I choked on it. I wanted every kind and degrading thing he ever wanted.

“Aaaah!” I cried out, as everything let go at once, as his fat dick head slicked inside of me, the foreskin pulled back and taut. More precum from my cock slicked my belly all over again.

Lan leaned over me as his incredible thick huge veiny pole slid past my guard and deep inside me where I had always needed cock. His shoulder muscles bulged with veins; his pectoral muscles were perfect slabs, his ridged abs rippling with his breath. I could see the little muscles of his traps and his lateral abs.

He was fucking me. There were words but I was in another country in his dark eyes, and as they rewrote my thoughts, I didn’t know or care. Just his dark eyes and the cock that I never wanted out of me ever again, the cock I would do anything for, give anything to.

“… NOW!” and I could feel the splurge of his cum painting my insides. My whole body was lit up. There was a steady stream of cum being crushed out of my prostate by his massive dick.

I woke up to my alarm buzzing away.

My ass hurt vaguely as I walked into the bathroom. I stretched as my long cock unleashed a huge torrent in the bowl.

I looked up.

There was a chain around my neck with a brass lock on it. In small letters it said “THOR”.

My cock got hard and my piss went all over the bathroom as memory flooded in from last night.

Initiate 1 – The Novice’s Beginning

Sweat poured over my thin blond brows, stinging my eyes. I strained, veins bulging along my arms and throat. My breath huffed, hot. I thrust with my legs and felt the burn of my tired buttox round and release. I cried out like a gull, “ah!” The chunk of granite I had dragged across the yard arced over the briar hedge. There was a loud crack as it pounded into the stones down below the hilltop monastery.

The Mediterranean sun was hot on my shoulders. I would burn soon, but I had to get this done, and the robe was too heavy for this kind of work – plus the proctor would beat me if I stained it with my ‘excessive sweat’ again. I ran my my hands down the work-trained muscles of my torso. I had become firm, rounded from labor in a way that hunting and fishing in the forests of the North had not done. The sweat rolled in little rivers past the red gold coins of my nipples.

“You seem to be doing quite well, Brother,” the quiet voice of Rector Atto move through me with a smoky note I didn’t know how to interpret. I stiffened. In more ways than one. I turned to face the squat Greek. Long dark chest hairs peeked through the neck of his robe as if pushed up by his massive frame. My gut went warm when I saw him; as always I wanted to make him proud of me, but the warmth went deep.

“Th-thank you, Rector,” I said, lowering my head, blond curls falling in my face, blocking some of the merciless sun.

“The Abbot has emerged from prayer, and he will meet with you,” it was softly spoken from his thick lips, but it was a command. I looked at the bucket of water I’d brought out with me, grimacing at the smell under my arms.

“I can wash and – ”

“You will come now, as you are,” gesturing with one thick hand, the hairs on his knuckles dark and curly. I thought about what his hands could do. He had already turned to walk toward the monastery, and I just stood there, watching the thick moons of his ass appear and disappear under the robe as the real moon does in the sky.

My cock was beginning to uncurl in my loincloth. I bit the inside of my lip and grabbed my robe. Rector Atto was disappearing into the monastery. I raced after him and toward some much-needed relief from the sun.

We were in the Abbot’s tower, high atop the cloister. The climb didn’t give my sweat a chance to dry and I tried to pull parts of the robe away from my body as I entered the receiving cell outside the Abbot’s private chapel. I unlaced my sandals and did my best to brush the dirt from my feet. The abbot’s sandals were next to mine, and a smell of oil and man wafted off them. Although with my northern blood, I was a head taller than the abbot, his sandals were wider and inches longer than my own.

“Father Abbot?” Atto asked, dark eyes under his dark brows glued to the sweat stains spreading through my robe. He mouthed “OFF” to me and made an over-the-head gesture. As I pulled the robe off, hanging it on the hook inside the door, I wished again for hair – like even the other Novices had – to cover myself. I stood quietly, breathing in my own smell, willing the sweat to dry.

“Thank you, Rector, you may send in the Novice and go,” came the rich voice of the Abbot from the next room.

Atto’s thick shoulder muscles bulged as he bent his head and withdrew. Before he closed the door, he ran his eyes over me like a rough hand. I felt him judging my pale skin, the freckles on my shoulders, the betraying blush on my cheeks. I wanted to fall to my knees by the time he closed the heavy oak door.

“Come to me, boy,” the Abbot’s voice drew me toward the smell of frankincense.
It was hot in the Nave. The shutter doors leading into the chapel itself were partly closed. Candles and the smell of beeswax came to me.

The upper wall of the Nave was a stained glass window of St. Michael – the sun behind it burned the room red and gold, and made it hot as a Turkish bath. St Michael held a sword up before his body like a great phallus of burning light.
The Abbot sat on a bench in a prayer booth, eyes hooded, his tall, dark body covered in beads of sweat like worshipers. His hair was cropped short, salt creeping in along his temples and down into his beard like adoring fingers of time. His back was straight, and I could see the small muscles along his ribs holding him upright. His dark feet were planted on the warm stones. My pale eyes were magnets to his loincloth. Sweat had soaked through it everywhere. It bulged with his manhood, edges dangling down over the edge of the bench. I swallowed and prayed for strength as my smaller pink cock continued its lengthening in my own loincloth.

I was so confused by my arousal that prayer was my only refuge.

I knelt to hide my excitement, and kissed the Abbot’s gold ring. His fingers were thick and strong, with much smaller hairs than Atto’s along his knuckles. The smell of his manhood filled my nostrils and my head swam. My traitorous penis began to ooze.

The Abbot’s dark eyes were burning over me when I rose to my knees, back straight.

The length of my cock throbbed with my heartbeat and I prayed to St. Michael for strength, but his phallus seemed to throb too with the sunlight.

I swallowed, my mouth going dry, looking down at the floor, trying to look at anything but the bulge under the Abbot’s loincloth, or the masculine roll of the man’s abdominal muscles above it, the fine, fatless cuts of his body from his fasting and sweating sharp enough to cut my heart.

“How may I…” I swallowed, flicking my gaze up at the Abbot, “serve you, Lord?” I asked quietly, unable to look away from the mounds of his loincloth. I licked my lips… to… whet them?

His deep voice like a drum, “Brother Finn, how is the monastery treating you? I see Rector Atto has not spared the labor.”

I nodded, intensely grateful for something to focus on. I was a little confused and my face was a map to my heart, as my father always said before selling me to the Brothers. I nodded ferociously. “Yes, Lord Abbot, I love it here, and…” I felt scrawny and hairless and sweaty, but I saw there was a swell of arms and shoulders that my father’s failed attempts to teach me the sword had not instilled. “Yes, I am getting stronger.”

“Stand up for me,” the Abbot commanded.

I was terrified I’d be thrown out, but I could not bring myself to resist. I subtly adjusted myself, and stood. The bulges of my quads were also new, and the sun had already reddened them. My calves were tight. My modest cock pushed obscenely against my loincloth, resisting my efforts to shove it to the side. It was hidden only by its shortness and the bunching of the cloth around my waist. I turned a deeper shade of crimson.

“Yes, things have gone well for you.  You’re 20 summers now, is that right?” he asked, licking his thick, mediterranean lips.

My brows knit, “21 as of this very night, sir,” I muttered, praying to any listening saint to hide my erection that was profaning this holy place. If anything, it made me even harder.

He nodded as though that made some kind of sense I could not fathom.

“You know,” he said, rising suddenly from his seat. I was one of the tallest men at the monastery, my Viking heritage strong in me even if my father disowned me, but he made me feel short, feet shorter than him. He continued, “I was on retreat here for 21 days to pursue an inspiration.”

“I did…not?” I muttered as the Abbot moved past me, illuminated in the golden glow of Michael’s stained glass. I turned to follow him, but he laid one heavy hand on my shoulder, and turned me back to face the prayer bench.

“St. Michael came,” he said close behind me, “to me each night for the last 7 nights.” It was definitely getting hotter in here. The abbot’s big hands were running across my bare shoulders, somehow raising goosebumps. I think I might have gulped audibly.

“He revealed to me many things, wondrous and challenging,” he said against my hair, the fierce heat of his body against mine. He ran his hands down the lines of my lats toward the new swell of lower back muscle above my buttox. He sighed as he ran his hands across my exposed buttocks. I had been asking Atto for a year for a new loincloth and he had just smiled and shook his head.

“Oh, God,” I groaned.

“Yes,” the Abbot said as he slowly massaged his way down my big round pale buttocks, pushing the loincloth down. “He has plans for you. such wondrous plans. And it is my duty to begin getting you ready for them.”

I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I had several women back in our village, and lusted after them hungrily from the time I was 13 to when I bedded Lorna for the first time when we both reached adulthood at 14.

But it had been years since I had been touched by a woman – a lot of years – and over a year since I’d even seen one. And the sweaty cells of the young novices were a constant miasma of man smells. Of course, we were supposed to be celibate, but the funk indicated either we were not all following our vows, or these adult men were having nocturnal emissions. I admit, my sins were many, and although I arrived longing for women, now all I tended to think about was my cellmates all around me, smelling of sweat and lying naked in the dark.

“Oh, my Lord!” I gasped. I had drifted off and my loincloth just hit my feet, all wet with sweat and my precum. It wasn’t my smaller, large-finger-sized cock bobbing free that brought me back. It wasn’t the Abbot’s hands digging fingers into my hip flexors and my high rounded butt cheeks that made me off balance forward a little bit. It was the 21 day beard on the roman Abbott’s face scratching back there between my cheeks as his hot tongue snaked out and licked and lapped against my virgin rosebud.

It was a sweet pleasure I have never known. I tried to contain myself. His tongue lapped and lavished against my secret entrance as the templars called it. My instinct was to hit him, to use my Slavic strength, to run. Instead, my rosebud opened to my Lord. His tongue slipped inside and I bit the calloused ball of my hand hard to contain the whimpers as my other hand braced against the wooden prayer stall where St. Francis was holding his hands out toward me and gazing into my eyes with a look of sweet ecstasy.

My balls shuddered hard and slipped inside my body, and the ramrod length of my cock began to unload. I hit St. Francis right in his halo, splashed across his body, down the nave, across the seat cushion, on the kneeler, and on the floor.

The Abbot’s big hands held me fast and his moan moved deep and secret places inside me. Another line of my seed dribbled from the end of my pulsing pink penis down onto my loincloth below me.

My head didn’t clear as it had before when I unleashed with Lorna and Detta and other girls – or even alone. Instead, a deeper intoxication moved me. I leaned my other hand against the wall as the Abbot pulled me hard toward him, and buried his entire face between my round, pale cheeks. He was humming deep up into me and his impossibly long tongue was fully inside me and touching something in me that had never been touched before.

I groaned and moaned and found that I was pushing on the wall, pushing back on that big Roman nose of the Abbot, against his devil’s tongue up inside plundering my secret treasures. My thoughts were filled with service to this man, and heat and sweat and light – St. Michael burning in the glass, his great sword throbbing in the open air – like a much, much bigger version of my own.

I was having difficulty thinking – and breathing. I was sweating freely, though surely it could not be as hot in here as it had been out in the sun. I was losing my grip on myself.

The Abbot was up and against me , the hair on his chest scratching my bare white back, the thick hairs of his legs against the slender gold hairs on the backs of mine. I was blinking a torrent of sweat out of my eyes and pulling in several full breaths to still myself.

“Prepare to receive the first gifts the Arch Angel has ordained for you,” the Abbot murmured in my ear with such kindness I just melted back against him. He wrapped his arms around me and I was so happy just to be held, I didn’t pay attention at first to the massive hard object pressing into the cleft of my ass.

I sighed. I could have stayed in this tall man’s embrace, the scent of his oils forever.
Then I realized he was moving against me, holding me close, pulling my head back to rest on his shoulder. I could feel the length of his manhood sliding in all the sweat and spit between my ass cheeks, the arrow of it moving against the lips of my ass and then with a groan from me popping away and sliding up against my lower back.

“Relax, Novice, relax against me,” and his hands pressed my neck backward again so my gold curls fell finally across his deep olive skin. His other hand pressed my chest, and as I had seen Lorna do to herself, two of his big fingers began to slowly roll my left nipple. I’d never known that men’s nipples were like a woman’s, but I moaned against the Abbot’s neck all unwilling as he did that and the most wonderful feelings ran from my nipple down to my still hard penis, making it bob and throb and pulse in spite of release only moments ago.

I had no idea what was happening, and I hoped it never stopped. And then. And then as my whole body pressed and rocked back into the Abbot’s powerful embrace, his lean muscles hard in all the places my young body was soft and lush.
The Abbot’s long tube of a cock, slick with his own excitement and his spittle and my sweat, it slid past the guardian of my anus who had abandoned his post, slipped inside me. The pain was focused and intense.

“Relax, Novice, against me, let me into you, let St. Michael into you,” he murmured, pinching my nipple very firmly so that the pain and pleasure rose together inside me.

Then I was fuller than I have ever been. The Abbot pressed his hips against my hindquarters and he and I were one, like God and man. Like breath and flesh. He was inside me in places I’d never imagined were even there. The ropy muscles of his arms were around me, both working to twist the sensitive bronze red-gold tips of my nipples, holding me up, holding me against him.

His penis entered fully and deeply within me, the curls of his pubic hair grinding against my lower back, his planes and my curves fitting together in a way that would make Pythagoras’ head spin.

He withdrew from me and it was the most saddest thing that has happened in my short life. I was muttering, something profane, something like a prayer, something needful. The Abbot was muttering praise to me, telling me service was my calling and oh what a service I was performing for him.

He moved against me, his sweat was my sweat, his skin was my skin, I was his to use so completely, I could no longer tell where I ended. His pleasure was my pleasure, his movements were my pleasure – the deep thrusting of his member inside me, the way his balls struck my soft underparts. He was throbbing inside me, I was throbbing. He was pressing and pushing and battering away at the last little part of myself that was separate. I was coming apart into red and yellow light and sweat and the beauty of being held by a man.

His hands clamped down on my big nipples, hard and intense. “NOW,” he said.
I came again. Poor St. Francis’ face was covered by my man’s gift now. And the roman eagle on the back of the prayer seat. I heard it hitting the cushion that was still dark with the Abbot’s sweat.

And then. And then. The Abbot clutched me harder to him. He spoke in an ancient Latin I could not understand – my poor learning. He thrust so hard into me, I came off my feet.

Heat poured through me, and I felt him unleash a torrent within. Pleasure, ecstasy coursed through my body. It was too much. His pleasure was literally my pleasure and I could not contain it. There was light and burning sword before me and within me, and St. Michael in the glass turned his baleful gaze from the heavens to me, seeing me, seeing through me, speaking in words I could not hear.

I had never felt so clean, so pure, so loved. The Abbot behind me. Michael before me.

I awoke with a start. In my cell. It was night. I was cool, and I smelled like rosemary. The thin sheet I slept under was tented by my nightly arising. I felt a sweet pain in my nether region as I wondered… did my penis look bigger?