Sword of Zara

After the initial cry and groan, Toma began to pant and moan. “Nay, my king. Sheath your sword in its entirety. I must have it all.”

To the king’s amazement, Toma did take it all. The king had never fully sheathed his sword; he had killed many a wife and concubine trying to do so. And after the king had given over his seed, Toma refused to release him, clamping down his channel muscles tight and demanding a second ride and then a third—until the king, virile as he was, had no more kingly seed to give, no more power in his pelvis and thigh and buttocks muscles, and just lay back, exhausted and sighing the satisfaction of total fulfillment.

Toma slithered up to where his lips were at the ear of the king now.

But the king spoke first. “You are no innocent young lad, you are a king’s catamite, are you not?”

“Yes, lord, Toma answered in a whisper. I was the Duke of Sorso’s catamite, but he did not satisfy me, and then the Duke of Jerzu’s, and he did not satisfy me. And then both dukes at once, and still they did not satisfy me. Three men have I taken at once, and still I was not touched to the quick. I went to the prince, and he did not satisfy me. But I satisfied him, and he confided in me. And I had heard about you and that you had the most magnificent member in all the world. And so I came to you. And you satisfy me, my lord. You, today, have reached me to the very center—not once but three times. You are an elephant of men.”