Cuulain was the handsomest of all the young men in the warrior village of Koyatun. Indeed, no one could recall another man more perfect in physique. Every inch of his body was exquisitely formed, as though the gods had fashioned him especially to be looked at and admired. And the young Cuulain was both looked at and admired, indeed.
He was tall, with a broad chest and narrow waist, his muscles flexing with his every move, his thighs bursting with strength and power. His long dark hair was silky soft, inviting constant touches and admiring glances from the women of the tribe, who fawned over the fine young warrior, much to the profound annoyance of his peers. The older men laughed at the developing rivalries, finding the situation amusing and a source of great entertainment.
Cuulain was the fastest runner in the tribe, the best hunter, and the deadliest archer, it was said, that anyone could ever remember. He was serious of disposition and mood, his dark gaze sending the hearts of onlookers fluttering, though his smile was equally deadly, lighting up his face in a way that made him irresistible to anyone fortunate enough to have witnessed it. His extraordinary good looks and his intense, deep black eyes had captured the hearts of every unattached female of the tribe—and a few males, too—all of whom dreamt of winning Cuulain’s heart (or at least seducing him to their beds).
But Cuulain seemed unhurried about his choice of mate, resisting pressure from the jealous tribesmen who were anxious for him to settle down. As long as Cuulain was available, it was impossible to entice any of the females to commit. None of them would accept a mate until they knew with certainty that Cuulain was out of their grasp.
Now, in that same tribe was a boy named Shiiki, who though was not counted among the men had come into manhood that summer, at least in the privacy of his sleeping roll. In terms of physique he could not have been more different than Cuulain. He was of a slight build and a gentle nature, thoughtful, quiet, and rather shy, rarely speaking to anyone.
Of all the tribesmen, Shiiki looked as though he did not quite belong, and this was partly due to the fact that he had been adopted by the tribe as an infant, when he was found floating on a makeshift raft on the river, one rainy day at summer’s end. No one knew where he had come from or who his people were, or how he had come to pass by their camp unattended that day. He had pale skin and eyes of a strange greenish-blue hue, and his long hair was the color of corn silk, so blond that it was almost white. He was raised among the tribe as one of their own, but Shiiki always seemed to be in a world of his own, even as he grew into a young man.
Unlike all the other men of the tribe, Shiiki did not like to hunt, nor did he seem interested in fighting or fishing or any of the other pursuits the other young men enjoyed. Though he was not at all unattractive—no, far from it—he was shunned by the young women. Though he was still counted as a “boy” and not a man among the tribe, the girls seemed to know that he had already reached manhood, and none of the females wanted to be mated to him, for he had the lowest status of anyone in the tribe.
As for Shiiki, he seemed to shrug off being ignored; he kept to himself and was never observed openly admiring any of the young, beautiful girls that came of age the year he reached manhood. He did not respond to their titters or taunting, and this was not only because he was slow to anger.
No, Shiiki did not care because, like them, he had eyes for one person alone—Cuulain.
Though he was careful not to be observed watching the handsome warrior, as a male he had more opportunities to view him intimately: in the river when they were bathing, or in the men’s sweat lodge, where Cuulain and others went to purify themselves before village ceremonies.
One day, when he was in the sweat lodge and was admiring Cuulain’s undeniable masculinity, he found himself the object of Cuulain’s attention. His face burning red, he looked away, but not before he discerned a slight smile on Cuulain’s lips, and a look of amusement in his eyes. Was he imagining it, or was Cuulain giving him a look of interest?
Too mortified to dare a second look, he kept his eyes averted, leaving the sweat lodge as soon as he felt able to rise without other parts of him rising also.
He was deep in thought when he returned to his home, so preoccupied by Cuulain’s intense gaze and his smile that he did not see the baskets of beads that had been carefully stacked near the entrance, and as he stepped inside, he proceeded to knock them all to the floor, the tiny beads spilling everywhere.
Po Ju was furious. “What bad luck I had, the day chieftain Wuu came to me and forced me to take you in! You’ve been nothing but trouble since that time, and you’re lazy and clumsy on top of it. Look at this mess! It will take me all night to clean it up!”
“I’m sorry, Po Ju,” Shiiki answered, “though you should not have left the baskets stacked up by the entrance.”
“What! How dare you talk back to me, you insolent boy!” she screamed, reaching for her punishment stick.
Shiiki, who had been whipped many times with it over the years, showed no fear at this movement. Indeed, Po Ju had grown too frail to offer much punishment, even with the stick. She frowned and then grabbed hold of his wrist, pulling him outside.
“It’s time you had some real punishment,” she announced, proceeding to drag him across the village, much to his mortification. The sight of Po Ju, the small, cranky old woman with a punishment stick in one hand, yanking Shiiki—who was a good head taller than her—through the village, was enough to generate considerable mirth among the onlookers.
Po Ju stood outside Cuulain’s tent.
“Cuulain!” she called out, in a loud voice.
“What are you doing?” Shiiki hissed.
“Shut your mouth! You’ll find out soon enough. Cuulain! Let me come in.”
“Please,” Shiiki whispered desperately. “Let’s go back home. I’ll help you pick up the mess.”
“Cuulain!” Po Ju called again, ignoring him.
“He’s not here,” Shiiki whispered. “He’s at the sweat lodge. Please, let’s go home.”
Upon learning this, Po Ju turned and carted the boy into the men’s sweat lodge, much to Shiiki’s horror and the amusement of the rest of the village.
The men were startled at her entrance, attempting to cover up their nudity.
“Po Ju,” Chieftain Wuu scolded, “this is no place for a woman.”
“Humph! Don’t bother covering up, there’s nothing in here all that shocking. And you call yourself men! Your poor wives.”
“Have you come here to insult us, woman? Get out!”
“I’ve come for Cuulain. I need this boy disciplined, and I’ll have no one but the strongest man do it.”
“I am not the strongest man in the village,” Cuulain protested.
“You are the strongest,” Junna laughed. “Why do you deny it?”
“Whether or not he is the strongest, makes no difference,” Chieftain Wuu continued. “But if you want Cuulain or any other man here to assist you, you will leave this sweat lodge at once.”
“I’m not leaving until someone takes this stick,” Po Ju announced.
Chieftain Wuu reached out and snatched the stick. “There. I have taken it, now, please go.”
The men all laughed at this, but Po Ju was not to be persuaded. She looked at Cuulain. “This boy needs to be disciplined and I am too old and frail to do it. I want you to give him a good beating.”
The others turned to Cuulain. The young man tried not to laugh, keeping his face serious, though his eyes were shining. “Very well, Po Ju, if it will accomplish your leaving us in peace, have the boy wait in my hut and I will take care of him for you.”
Po Ju seemed satisfied with this, turning and escorting Shiiki away. Shiiki had never been so humiliated in all his life. A crowd had gathered outside the sweat lodge and he was forced to endure laughs and jibes as Po Ju led him back to Cuulain’s home. He could hear laughter also from inside the sweat lodge, and when they reached Cuulain’s hut he stepped inside, grateful to be away from the scrutiny of the other villagers.
Po Ju left him there. He stood, for a long time, just inside the entrance, afraid to move. His hands were sweating and his heart was pounding. It was not so much the punishment he feared but he was embarrassed that Cuulain would be the one to do it.
He waited for what seemed like an eternity. Cuulain was obviously in no rush, and although it made Shiiki’s wait nearly unbearable, at least the villagers began to lose interest in his plight, the sound of voices and laughter fading away.
Finally, when he thought he could stand no more, Cuulain entered the tent. He was carrying the punishment stick, but he immediately placed on it on the bench that encircled the inner perimeter of his hut.
Without a word or a glance at Shiiki, he stoked the fire and then took a long drink from a water skin. Shiiki could not help but stare. The warrior had taken a dip in the river after his evening at the sweat lodge, and his body glistened with water, the ends of his hair still damp. He wore only a slight wrap around his waist, revealing every hollow, every ripple of his muscles.
With horror, Shiiki realized he was becoming aroused. He looked away, his gaze moving to the punishment stick that was lying on the bench. He swallowed, wondering why Cuulain remained silent.
“Cuulain,” he said, finally. “May I sit down?”
“You may,” Cuulain replied, sitting down as well, on the bench. Shiiki simply sat on the floor of the hut, which was covered with a mat of woven reeds. The warrior picked up the punishment stick and twirled it slowly between his fingers as he studied the boy. “So, apparently you’ve been a trouble to Po Ju?”
“Po Ju hates me,” Shiiki answered.
“Hmmm.” Cuulain did not try and argue with this; it was no secret that Po Ju despised her young charge. “Be that as it may; she is an Elder, and is entitled to your respect and to have her wishes obeyed.”
“I offered to clean up the mess,” Shiiki protested. “She just wants me to suffer.”
“Are you arguing with me?” Cuulain asked quietly.
Shiiki, who had been staring at Cuulain with a sort of angry defiance, seemed to remember himself, bowing his head meekly. “No, Cuulain.”
“Good. Because you are here to be punished; I haven’t all night to waste on this foolishness. Come here.”
Shiiki slowly rose to his feet and approached the warrior.
Cuulain, who was feeling rather tired and relaxed after a long day of hunting and then a good hour in the sweat lodge, felt disinclined to stand up; so he decided to punish the boy over his knees. “Pull down your leggings,” he commanded.
“But…please,” Shiiki pleaded, not wanting to bare himself to Cuulain’s scrutiny.
“Obey me!” Cuulain ordered sternly, the sudden harshness of his voice startling Shiiki.
The boy fumbled with his ties and let his leggings fall to his ankles.
Cuulain reached out and seized his arm, pulling him towards the bench. “Lie down, over my knees.”
The boy slowly obeyed, swallowing hard when he found himself so intimately exposed to the object of his own desires. Cuulain’s legs felt warm under his; the man had an intoxicating scent, like the late autumn when the leaves begin to fall, or the smell of leather, or a bit of sandalwood or—
“Ow!” Shiiki yelped when Cuulain gave him the first strike with the punishment stick.
Cuulain smiled, enjoying the sight of the pretty young boy so vulnerable on his lap. He brought down the stick lightning fast, the loud THWACK! of each strike punctuated by Shiiki’s surprised and miserable cries. The warrior honored Po Ju’s request that the boy be given a good beating; his ass and thighs were red and welting by the time he was finished, and Shiiki was whimpering over his knees.
When he was finished, Cuulain tossed the stick aside but let Shiiki remain positioned over his lap. He had thoroughly enjoyed punishing the boy, but for reasons Po Ju would have been horrified to know. The experience had made him rigid as a pole, and as Shiiki calmed down he became aware of Cuulain’s state, feeling the man’s cock press up against his stomach.
Shiiki’s heart began to pound. Cuulain was aroused! Just knowing this was enough to send the blood rushing to his own organ, and in a matter of moments Shiiki proved that he was no boy, at least when it came to his sexual response.
Cuulain let his hand rest on Shiiki’s ass, caressing it. The boy’s arousal surprised him; but there could be no mistaking the movement against his thighs. He allowed his hand to slip between Shiiki’s legs, letting his fingers slide between his buttocks and brush against his portal.
Shiiki’s head was spinning. “Oh!” he gasped, when Cuulain touched his entrance.
“I suggest you obey Po Ju,” Cuulain whispered, “or else she will send you to me again, and I shall have to punish you in other ways.”
“Other ways?” Shiiki repeated.
“Yes. Perhaps I shall I have to use my own punishment stick. Perhaps I will put it right here,” Cuulain answered, inserting his finger partway into the boy’s rectum.
Shiiki cried out, thrilled. He could hardly believe what was happening. “Perhaps I shall be very naughty tomorrow,” he announced breathlessly.
Without a word, Cuulain set him on this feet, and Shiiki looked into his dark, twinkling eyes, feeling rather excited and confused by what had just happened. The warrior’s gaze drifted down to Shiiki’s erection, which, although not quite as large as his own, was nevertheless substantial.
“You are not a boy,” he observed with a smile.
“I am not,” Shiiki agreed, thrilled for someone to finally acknowledge his status as a man. He fastened his leggings, daring to offer the warrior a meaningful look.
Cuulain handed him the punishment stick. “Tell Po Ju that you were thoroughly punished. Although I doubt she’ll question that, as everyone in the village probably heard your cries. Now, go back to your hut.”
Inexplicably, the warrior turned away with a dismissive wave of his hand, as though suddenly having second thoughts about what had just transpired.
Shiiki frowned, standing awkwardly for a moment before leaving the hut. He felt confused and horribly aroused. Before returning to his hut he made a detour into the woods where he relieved himself, pulling on his cock almost violently in his impatience to eject his seed. His experience over Cuulain’s knees, despite being painful, had been the most erotic encounter of his entire life. There was simply no mistaking the warrior’s insinuations. The man had inserted his finger up his ass! But then he had dismissed him so coldly, Shiiki hardly knew what to think.
At any rate, one thing was certain: Shiiki knew he was going to need a lot more punishment.