Earth to Earth [Part 4]

By M. Greene - mgreene70@yahoo.com
published December 4, 2017
2601 words
Summary

The travellers reach Calais

Near Calais, Republic of France: 1848

“So it was the Landgraf himself I fucked that time…”

Igor nodded.

The four cart-horses plodded slowly down the dusty, tree-lined road. It was midday and very sunny, so Klaus was behind them, safely asleep inside his casket.

Otto shook his head incredulously. “I don’t remember much about that night except that it felt like the best pussy I ever screwed…”

Igor shook his head and sighed. Otto had been with them for nearly a week now and all he seemed to talk about was sex…

“The Landgrave’s arse… Amazing…” Otto said, his handsome, peasant face transfixed with wonder. He moved his right hand down to give his crotch an affectionate squeeze. “My dick’s already getting hard thinking about that tight pussy; even if it was a man’s…” He treated Igor to his broadest smile. “To be honest, I’ve thought of little else since…” The squeeze turned into more of a rubbing, stroking movement…

Igor noticed what Otto was doing on the seat next to him and winced. “For God’s sake, leave it alone, can’t you? You’re always fiddling about with yourself…”

Otto made no attempt to stop playing with his sizeable bulge, which was now extremely obvious through his thin peasant smock. “I can’t help having a strong sex drive, can I?” He grinned. “Back in the village I’m well-known for being a bit of a stud…”

“Look, Otto… Very soon we will be reaching the outskirts of Calais,” Igor said, in the slow and careful tone he usually reserved for particularly stupid servants. “Do you want to get us all arrested for public indecency?”

Reluctantly, Otto ceased massaging his crotch and folded his muscular arms across his equally well-developed chest. He glanced behind them at the pile of trunks and boxes in the back of the cart. “Do you think he can hear us?” His voice had dropped to a stage whisper.

“The Master? No. He enters a dormant state during the day, particularly when, as now, the sun is very high in the sky.”

Otto whistled. “It must be so weird living backwards like that; getting up at dusk and going to sleep at dawn…”

“Master is very used to it…”

“You always call the Landgraf ‘Master’…” Otto observed. “It makes you sound like you’re his fucking slave or something…”

“I am his slave.” Igor shrugged. There was no point in denying the situation to this oaf. “What of it?”

“Slavery is wrong,” Otto said decisively. “It’s not even allowed anymore. Everyone knows that…”

“Slavery continues to exist in the modern world,” Igor said. “There are still slaves in America, for example… I also think you will find that most people are slaves to someone or something…” He smiled grimly. “Very few on this earth can truthfully say that they are totally free from any obligation whatsoever, be it a job or a marriage or an addiction…” He let out a dry chuckle. “They may not call it ‘slavery’, but it amounts to much the same thing…”

“Have you always been a slave?”

Igor nodded. “For most of my adult life…” He thought back down the long centuries. Yes, since the day he was sold by his father he had always been a slave. Except, that is, for a few brief hours…


Targoviste, Kingdom of Wallachia: 1476

Igor and the two Nubian bodyguards returned from the monastery to the city and retrieved their mounts. Although they still grieved, all three of them realised for the first time that, with their master dead and buried, they were no longer slaves. The question was, where should they go now?

The Nubians decided to return to Africa. They would travel down through Asia Minor, the Holy Land and Egypt to Nubia. They would find their home village and try to build a new life for themselves. After dividing what was left of their master’s money equally between the three of them, the Africans asked Igor if he would like to travel with them as far as Constantinople. Igor hesitated. Although it was undoubtedly the greatest city on earth, he was not sure that he would be happy living there without his master. Should he perhaps attempt to return to Muscovy? No… There was no way that he could ever be reconciled with his father and brothers after what they had done to him… The monastery where his master was being laid to rest had seemed very safe and peaceful… Maybe he should think about joining a similar religious order and being ordained as a monk?

Becoming impatient, the Nubians announced that they were leaving immediately. It was already almost dawn and, after seeing what he had done to Lord Tadese, they had no wish to be detained by the evil Wallachian prince…

Igor watched the two African men ride away into the distance. What to do? Where to go? Without his master, he felt totally lost. He returned to the inn and began collecting together his meagre possessions. Perhaps he should head west towards Italy or the land of the Franks? He knew a little Latin; enough to get by until he could learn the local languages, anyway…

Heading back down to the stables, Igor placed his things into the saddlebag and led his horse outside. It was now just after dawn and people were beginning to emerge from the crude huts and hovels that lined the muddy road. Then he noticed four horsemen gallop out through the castle entrance about two hundred yards away. They were heading straight towards him… Nervously, Igor mounted his horse and began trotting towards the south gate of the city. It was closed, but he probably had enough of his master’s money left to bribe the guards…

“You there! Slav! Stop and dismount!”

The four horsemen surrounded him and one grabbed hold of the reins of Igor’s horse.

“Dismount, I say!”

Igor did as he was ordered.

Another of the horsemen unsheathed his sword and held the sharp blade against Igor’s unprotected throat. He smiled down at him. “Before you rush away, Slav, Prince Vlad would like to have a little word with you…”


Vlad Dracul tipped his head back, swallowed half a pint of blood in one mouthful and then tossed the empty goblet to the ground. Kneeling on the straw-covered floor in front of the prince’s chair, Igor flinched at the harsh clattering sound of metal upon stone.

They were in a chamber within Dracul’s private apartments, which had already been transformed into something beyond Igor’s worst nightmares. The pale and naked body of a young man hung suspended upside down from an iron hook in the ceiling. His throat had been cut and the blood carefully collected in an iron cauldron placed underneath his head. Justina sat on a stool nearby, stirring the blood with a stick to prevent it from congealing.

Vlad Dracul laughed and wiped his lips clean with a piece of rag. “Unlike your dirty African master, I prefer drinking from a cup rather than soiling my teeth on some filthy peasant’s neck.” He glanced up at the gently swinging corpse. “His blood does taste marvellously sweet, however, I must admit…”

Igor knelt with his head pressed to the flagstone floor. He closed his eyes and wished that he could make himself so small that he could slip between the cracks and scuttle away like an insect…

Justina dipped another silver goblet into the thick blood and handed it across to her husband. “Drink and be strong, my brave warrior,” she said. “With this magical gift the Turks will be smashed and our holy lands liberated from the Muslim devils…”

Vlad thirstily drained the contents of the goblet and handed it back to her. “Go, wife, and inform Bathory that we will ride with our host to meet the heathen army tomorrow, at first light…”

Justina dropped the empty goblet into the cauldron, bowed low and left the room.

Vlad Dracul stood. “Look at me, slave…” His voice sounded much less harsh than it had before; almost soothing.

Igor raised his head and gazed up into the prince’s glaring green eyes. He simply could not resist that terrible stare. This dreadful man, insane and cruel though he might be, was now, indisputably, his Master…

“You served the African and now you will serve me. You have experience and knowledge of this wonderful ‘gift’ which may prove very useful…”

Igor nodded. What choice did he have? The prince’s eyes were like two glittering emeralds. He could not stand up against their power…

Dracul opened his tunic, loosened his baggy pantaloons and released his manhood. The stiff pillar of ivory-coloured flesh pointed straight down at Igor, its unblinking single eye directed towards his upturned face. Igor managed not to flinch as the first torrent of hot urine splashed across his forehead.

“You are mine, now, slave,” Vlad said, aiming the stream of stinking piss carefully so that it completely soaked Igor’s hair and ran down over his face. “I own you, body and soul…”

The warm, amber jet played over Igor’s eyes, nose and lips.

“Open your mouth!”

Igor did as he was told and allowed the acrid urine to flow over his tongue and gurgle noisily at the back of his throat.

“Drink!”

Obediently, Igor swallowed the filthy liquid down…


Calais, Republic of France: 1848

Klaus lay back on the bed in their hotel room and gasped with pleasure. “Oh… Yes… You’re such a lovely big boy,” he moaned, raking Otto’s muscular back with his delicate, manicured hands.

Otto pushed his stiff cock even deeper into the Landgraf’s hungry, tight hole. He wondered why it had taken him so many years to realise that he loved ass so much. His dick had been wasted on those sloppy, loose pussies he used to chase up and down the farmyard… This was a fantastically snug fuck that made his cock sing with every long stroke… Besides, he decided, the Landgraf was a real classy guy; he read books, he spoke very nicely and he bathed fairly often, which was more than could be said for those dirty whores back in the village…

“Ohh… Otto… Don’t stop… Ohh… Yes… It feels so good…”

Igor sat at a table near the bed playing solitaire. It was not going very well; he really needed a red five if it was going to work out…

“Fuck yeah… You like that big dick inside you, don’t you?”

“Ohh… Yes, Otto… You’re the man…”

Igor raised his eyes to the ceiling and dealt out another trio of cards. The Jack of Hearts… That was no bloody good at all…

“I’m coming bitch… You want my man cum in your pussy?”

“Oh yes… Let me have it, Daddy… Give me all of your hot seed…”

It was a total fail. Shaking his head with irritation, Igor gathered the cards together and began reshuffling them…

“Ahh…” Otto let out a bellow of ecstasy as his thick spunk pumped out inside the Landgraf’s love tunnel. The blissful orgasm coursed through his entire body from his head to his toes as he shot wad after wad after wonderful wad…

Just as he finished coming, Otto heard Klaus let out a small moan beneath him and, in an instant, before he could do anything to stop it, felt himself being roughly pushed away from the Landgraf’s body. Looking down, he realised that Igor had moved like lightning to somehow insert his head between Klaus and himself and was avidly sucking away at the Landgraf’s dick. Annoyed, Otto applied all of his considerable strength to try and pull the Russian dude out of his way, but it proved impossible. The guy was even stronger than him! What the fuck was going on?

“Sorry, my boy,” Igor said, a moment later, wiping a dribble of Klaus’ spilt semen from his lips. “Please just consider it a special perk of my job…”


Later, downstairs in the hotel bar, Otto and Klaus sat at a booth table together while Igor went to buy them all a round of drinks.

Otto was still sulking. “All you had to do was tell me…”

Klaus wagged his finger at him. “Do not be so jealous. Igor needs my sperm to survive,” he said. “It’s not as though you were going to eat it…”

Otto shrugged. “I don’t know… I might have…” He looked at Klaus rather shyly. “I’m thinking I might like to try it…”

Klaus clapped his hands together excitedly. “Oh, it’s been such a long time since two men fought over my sperm…”

Despite his confused feelings, Otto could not help but smile at this remark.

Klaus patted the handsome young peasant’s hand. “That’s better, darling. You have a very pretty face when you smile… Don’t spoil your lovely looks by being an old sulky pants…”

Otto laughed.

“Now you’re ‘one of the family’ so to speak,” Klaus said, “there a few things which you really need to know…”

“Oh yes?”

Before the Landgraf could continue, Igor returned and placed three glasses of wine on the table in front of them. He sat down and took a sip from his own glass. “What things does he need to know, Master?”

Klaus swallowed a mouthful of wine. “Well, sweetie, your real age would do for a start, wouldn’t it?”

Igor shook his head. “I don’t think we need to go into that…”

Klaus pointed towards his slave. “How old do you think he is, Otto?”

Otto shrugged. “I dunno… Twenty-eight?”

Klaus laughed. “Not even close. Tell Otto when you were born, Igor…”

Igor sighed. He felt very reluctant to share personal details with this peasant boy, but he could not disobey his master. “I do not know exactly,” he began, “but so far as I can work it out, I was born in either 1254 or 1255…”

Otto spluttered and spat a mouthful of wine down the front of his smock. “That’s impossible!”

“No; it’s quite true,” Klaus said, smiling. “Igor is even older than me!”

“But how can that be? It’s impossible for anyone to live much beyond seventy.” Thinking back to the inhabitants of his village, Otto knew that, in fact, it was rare for any of them to even see their sixtieth birthday…

“In the same way that vampires have unlimited lives, their servants do too…” Klaus winked at Otto. “So long as they ingest their master’s bodily fluids…” He nudged Igor in the ribs. “My seed keeps you going, doesn’t it?”

Igor reddened and shook his head sadly from side to side.

Otto stared down at his full wine glass. This French muck tasted horrible and he really wished they had bought him a pint of beer instead… “So what you’re saying is that if I regularly drink your nut, I won’t get old and die?”

Klaus nodded. “Exactly darling.” He gave Otto an arch look. “Actually, any of my bodily fluids will do the trick; my sperm, my saliva, even my urine…”

“Yuck!” Otto took a second sip of wine and winced. “I think of those three I’ll settle for your spunk…”

“Choose again, Otto,” Igor announced drily. “I’m afraid that the sperm option is already taken…”

Hot
Mind control
Wanking material
Writing
Idea
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