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Subject: {ASSM} RP:  Shamelessness (Maureen Lycaon) (MM+, cons, anal,  magic)
Date: Sat, 13 May 2000 23:10:04 -0400
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SHAMELESSNESS

REASON FOR REPOST: This was posted with the wrong email 
address, and I'm not certain how many servers honored the 
cancel message, so some readers probably never saw it. This 
post has the correct email address.

@Copyright Maureen Lycaon, May 2000. All rights reserved 
under the Bourne Convention.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story contains themes of homosexuality, 
dominance and submission and anal sex. If you shouldn't be 
reading such stuff, don't. Any resemblance to persons living 
or dead is coincidental, etc. . . You know the drill.

My deepest thanks to Ron/Lionus, whose feedback made this a 
better story.

You can read more of my stuff at:
http://velar.ctrl-c.liu.se/vcl/Authors/Maureen/



The young mage's handsome face was a mask of tranced effort 
as he struggled to hold the golden glowing wall.

He was perhaps twenty or twenty-one years of age. Gloriously 
thick blond hair, now streaked with sweat, trailed past his 
shoulders down the back of the silvery-blue Third-Level 
wizard's robe. His blue eyes were glazed as he forced his 
mind and his will down the arcane paths of higher magic. His 
eyebrows nearly met in furrowed concentration.

Across the workroom, the older wizard watched from his high-
backed chair, his face impassive as he observed his 
apprentice's efforts. His hair, once dark brown, was silvery 
with years -- though he was even older than he seemed. His 
gray eyes were lined with crow's-feet, his face with the 
laugh lines of a long life spent well and fully. He wore the 
dark blue robe of a Thirteenth-Level Mage, rich with 
embroidered symbols.

The Wall of Sanctuary rippled and coruscated around the 
golden-haired apprentice as he fought to hold it against its 
natural tendency to fall apart in the hurricane of Chaotic 
force flowing around it.

Palin's sweat-beaded face twisted as the Power suddenly 
fluctuated, threatening to buck out of his control as his 
concentration wavered. Then it smoothed out as he regained 
it, the golden light steadying . . .

. . . then wavering and collapsing entirely as he lost 
control. It had only been for a moment, but that was enough.

Mazruar sighed, lifting one hand and dismissing the Chaos 
with a single gesture even as Palin's shoulders slumped, his 
head hanging, his fists clenched at his sides. The master 
Adept rose from his chair and walked over to his apprentice, 
putting a hand on his shoulder.

Palin shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick 
with anger and frustration. 

Mazruar merely nodded and withdrew his hand. "Go ahead, 
banish the remaining energies."

When Palin had done so, directing the energy to flow back 
into the earth from whence it had come, Mazruar spoke again.

"Was it the same thing this time?"

Palin glowered at the floor. "Yes. I just can't control it."

Mazruar nodded, thinking. It had been half a lunar cycle, 
and every day he'd set Palin to this same lesson. Every 
time, Palin failed . . . and always for the same reason.

The younger mage's gaze was still directed at the stone 
floor. "Maybe I just can't do this," he said, a note of 
despair in his voice.

"Don't say that!" Mazruar said sharply, then caught himself. 
Another lecture wouldn't help Palin now.

The younger wizard lifted his head to look him in the eye. 
"I keep failing, Mazruar. I just can't shake it. And if I 
can't . . ."

". . . you can't go any farther," Mazruar finished for him, 
nodding. "Palin, I know you are very discouraged. But I have 
said I won't give up on you, and I will not. We are not at 
the end of our resources here."

Palin's eyes smoldered with frustration, though he managed 
to keep his voice steady. "But we nearly are, aren't we?" he 
demanded.

Mazruar's gaze stayed level with his pupil's. "No. Have you 
forgotten what I taught you about persistence when you were 
still at First Level?"

Palin nodded sullenly.

"What was it? Repeat it to me." Mazruar's voice turned 
stern, demanding.

"That I must not give up -- not with the tenth time, or the 
hundredth time, or the thousandth time." His voice steadied 
with the words. The anger and frustration in his expression 
eased a little.

Mazruar nodded. 

"If you could not do this thing, I would know," he told him. 
"I would have told you long since if you had reached the end 
of your abilities and should be content. You are the most 
gifted pupil I have ever taught. You can do this thing, I 
know that you can.

"The problem lies with your feelings. We need to do 
something about them at their source. You cannot feel shame 
at yourself and still be an Adept."

The blond apprentice looked away even as he nodded his 
agreement. Mazruar put his hand on his shoulder again, and 
this time he left it there.

Palin jerked up his own hand as if to brush off that touch -
- but then he relaxed and just held Mazruar's hand, sighing, 
as more of the anger ebbed from him.

"Palin, let us put this aside for now and go to my bed. I 
will comfort you." Mazruar's eyes softened with an 
expression of tenderness and invitation. "Afterward, we can 
discuss what next to do."



Afterward, Mazruar sat cross-legged on the priceless 
sapphire-blue quilt covering the magnificent bed. The odors 
of aroused men -- his scent, Palin's -- still clung to that 
quilt; fortunately, it had been magicked to never need 
cleaning.

Naked, the master mage was revealed as a trim, handsome man 
for all his years, with surprising muscle in his arms and 
legs and flat belly. To wizards, the body was another 
instrument, just like the mind and the soul; it had to be 
kept in good condition.

He looked down on his equally naked apprentice and smiled as 
he admired the beauty of Palin's long hair spilled across 
the quilt, the golden perfection of his skin, the lithe 
muscles just underneath. He reached out to run his fingers 
through that magnificent hair, touched with pure gold by the 
light of the candles.

Palin opened his eyes again and smiled, his face softened 
with the aftereffects of pleasure.

"You are happy?" Mazruar asked him.

Palin closed his eyes again, the image of contentment. 
"Yes. I am.  Very happy."

"Good, good." Mazruar's hand stroked. "You deserve to be 
happy."

They stayed together like that a while, Mazruar sitting and 
stroking Palin's hair, Palin lying sprawled on his belly 
across the quilt like a cat. With some of his hair caressed 
to the side, it was possible to glimpse the black velvet 
collar around his neck that marked him as more than 
Mazruar's apprentice.

He'd come to the older mage's attention for tutoring at the 
age of nineteen -- a student of magic with rare promise . . 
. and equally rare qualities of sexuality. It was the latter 
which had caused his first tutor to realize Mazruar was the 
mage best suited to instruct him.

That had been two years ago. *What progress he's made since 
I accepted him*, Mazruar mused. 

Palin had been raised in Deshnar province; though there was 
no question where his desires lay, he'd been brought up to 
consider man-to-man love shameful -- let alone the very 
special sort of lovemaking he truly needed.

It was vital that he get over that, break the chains of his 
upbringing. A Mage could not afford such foolish prejudices. 
It was impossible to attain any real skill in the magical 
arts while you were unjustly ashamed of any part of your 
soul. Shame rose up at the wrong times, diverted one's 
attention, made one feel unworthy of wielding the power -- 
and thus blocked the free flow of magic like debris choking 
a stream. And, as they both had discovered, much of the core 
of Palin's soul lay in his sexuality, his need to submit to 
a lover.

It had taken their relationship a good two years to bloom 
and strengthen. In some ways it had been the most joyous of 
years for both of them; in others, it had been difficult and 
painful -- especially for Palin, but also for Mazruar.

Teaching Palin to overcome the bonds of shame and guilt and 
accept his real desires had taken much gentleness, effort 
and patience -- indeed, the task was still far from 
finished.

Mazruar had tried milder measures on this latest barrier, 
but the chains of shame held Palin too strongly. The blond 
apprentice had courage, but his bonds were too strong to 
break without goading.

The master wizard put one hand on Palin's shoulder and gave 
it a gentle shake, making certain he had not fallen asleep. 
Palin opened his eyes again.

Mazruar touched his collar with one finger -- the signal 
that he wished to shift into their master-slave 
relationship.

Feeling that touch, Palin lifted his head to look at him, 
half-turning with an expression of curiosity in his eyes as 
he propped himself up on one elbow. "Master?"

"Slave." He made the word not an insult but a caress, and 
was rewarded by the sudden warmth in Palin's eyes. "I 
remember the young neophyte you were when you accepted my 
invitation and entered this castle, knowing nothing except 
how to ground and center yourself and perform a simple 
meditation."

He paused to slip a gentle hand around Palin's chin, holding 
his gaze. Palin remained silent, but his blue eyes turned 
serious as he realized where this was headed.

"Do you remember how much you were a prisoner of shame, back 
then? How long it took before you could even bring yourself 
to serve me with your mouth? You've made such progress since 
then, and I know it was difficult for you."

Palin closed his eyes, but a little smile touched his mouth. 
The tip of his tongue emerged to lick his upper lip, which 
he was probably unconscious of. Mazruar found the mannerism 
enchanting.

"Oh, yes, I remember," Palin replied. "And I thank you 
-- Master." His eyes searched the older Adept's face.

"Yes, you have overcome your shame and become wonderfully 
skilled at it -- and now it gives *you* pleasure as well, 
which is just as important." Mazruar stroked his chin with 
one thumb, offering his prot g  a smile which Palin returned 
wholeheartedly. "And the joy you take in it is beautiful to 
watch.

"It is not there that your performance is lacking now." He 
looked steadily into Palin's intent blue eyes. "It is, as we 
both know, in the matter of sodomy."

Palin would have looked away had Mazruar's hand not still 
held his jaw firmly. He actually did blush, a soft pink 
suffusing his cheekbones. Mazruar suppressed a sigh and went 
on.

"Oh, it's not that you show any reluctance to serve me -- or 
my servants, when I give you over to them. You follow orders 
without any hesitation at all.

"The problem --" now Mazruar did sigh. "The problem is that 
you will not submit to your *own* desire. You are still 
ashamed to take pleasure in this act. Don't think I don't 
sense how you try to stifle your groans of pleasure when I 
take you from the rear. I can tell it arouses you; don't 
think I do not feel your manhood hard and dripping when I 
reach underneath you to touch it, or that I don't notice 
how, when you finally do forget shame, you push your hips 
back against me, wanting more of my own manhood. But you 
don't want to admit it, even to yourself. It is not that the 
act does not move you; it is that you are ashamed to show 
that it does.

"Oh, yes, you can beg for it -- when I *command* you to. You 
even put on a convincing show. But when you do that, you 
lock your passion still deeper inside to keep from feeling 
it. And afterward, you are so humiliated that it is 
difficult for you to work magic for days afterward.
 
"We must deal with this false modesty of yours, this 
unmerited shame. I do not want just your body -- I could 
send one of my servants to hire a doxy off the street if all 
I wished were a beautiful form. I want you to learn to give 
me your soul as well."

Palin actually winced under his hand and swallowed hard, the 
blush spreading through his cheeks.

"I know it is difficult for you. Believe me, Palin, I have 
looked into your mind and heart, and I know. But you are 
withholding a part of yourself. It not only displeases me; 
it hurts you as well. If you want to make progress in your 
other studies, you must learn to accept what you find in 
your own soul.

"I am going to try something different to unleash that 
passion of yours, to free you. What I have in mind will be 
very difficult. You may well find it close to unbearable. 
But afterward, you will be the better for losing your 
shame."

He could feel Palin's jaw clench under his fingers. The 
young blond man took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. 
Mazruar pushed on relentlessly.

"Yes, once again I am going to put you through an ordeal, my 
sweet slave. Not a physically painful one, this time; but 
one you will probably find very humiliating, at least at 
first."

Palin's eyes lowered, and then he pulled away, both from 
Mazruar's gaze and his gentle hand, to bury his burning face 
in the cover, clenching his fists in the blue satin.

It was not in denial. It was more as if he were steeling 
himself. He took a deep breath, then another.

Mazruar waited.

Finally, Palin lifted his head to once again look into the 
elder wizard's eyes.

"What would you have me do . . . Master?"

Mazruar reached out again to stroke his golden hair back 
from his brow. The master wizard's own gray eyes were filled 
with sympathy.

"Starting now, there will be a change. I'm taking you off 
all magical studies so that nothing will distract you; you 
will do common chores with the servants instead.

"So far, I have permitted you to have your own orgasm 
whenever I gave you permission. I have teased you, or 
ordered others to, but I've never denied you for more than 
five days at a time. Beginning now, you will not be 
permitted your own pleasure until you have followed my 
orders to the letter. I will use the chastity spell to 
ensure that, so you need not worry about restraining 
yourself."

Palin's eyes widened, but his gaze stayed unwaveringly on 
Mazruar's face. The master wizard nodded grimly, then 
continued.

"I am going to hand you over to the servants once again, but 
there will be a difference. They will not approach you or 
order you, except to tease you. Instead, *you* must ask 
*them* to take you from behind. And they will have orders of 
their own as well -- that they refuse your plea unless you 
make it as convincing as possible. You will have to get down 
on your knees and beg, Palin. You must beg them to fuck you 
before they will even listen. And they will not allow you to 
persuade them easily. You may even have to lie down and 
grovel for it."

Palin looked as if he'd been slapped. He jerked away to once 
again turn his shame-reddened face to the quilt, clenching 
his fists, and there was no missing the stark humiliation 
and fear there. 

His rib cage heaved, as if he were near tears.

"I . . ." he drew a deep breath. "No, I c-can't . . ." His 
voice was muffled by the quilt.

Mazruar put his hand lightly on the apprentice's shoulder 
again. "I am not finished, Palin."

Palin looked up, swallowed visibly. Mazruar could see the 
mounting fear and shame in his reddened face.

*Needless shame*, he thought, trying to keep his expression 
as reassuring as possible as he lightly massaged the 
shoulder, feeling tensed muscle underneath. *But he doesn't 
really understand that in his bones yet.*

"Now, when they do take you, you are to turn loose your 
emotions, to show your passion in every way possible. And I 
do *not* want you to feign this -- believe me, each and 
every time, I will look into your mind afterward to see if 
you were. I want to see that you moaned and cried out, that 
you writhed with passion, that you begged shamelessly for 
more the entire time, that your cries waked half the castle.

"Reach inside yourself, past that shame, Palin. Release that 
passion I know you have. Let everybody see it.

"I will order them to be gentle with you. You know I pick my 
servants carefully. No one here would dream of judging you 
or despising you for your passion. 

"I want you to convince ten of the male servants here to use 
you in this fashion. And I want you to do so within the next 
five days. Do you understand me? Nod your head if you cannot 
speak."

Palin's face was a study in humiliation and panic. His eyes 
were brimming, and as Mazruar watched, a tear slid down his 
cheek. After a long moment, the blond apprentice swallowed 
hard and tried to speak. Unable to, he finally nodded, once.

Mazruar gently brushed the tear away and stroked his hair 
once before pulling his hand back and going on.

"Now, if you fail *once* -- if you cannot beg convincingly 
enough, or if I am not satisfied with your submission to 
even *one* servant -- it does not matter if it is the ninth 
or even the tenth time -- you will begin all over again, and 
we will start the five days yet again. You will *not* be 
allowed to come until you have served the tenth servant and 
fulfilled my commands, no matter how long this should take. 
You will start over and over again, until you have 
accomplished this."

"I -- I can't. I just can't -- please --" Palin was shaking 
his head.

"There is no other way, Palin." Mazruar's voice was firm.

Palin buried his face in the quilt again, tight-clenched 
fingers knotting the satin. His shoulders were shaking with 
open sobs now.

"You can do this thing," Mazruar said softly, reassuringly, 
relentlessly.  "It is in you. I know it is. I will not give 
up on you, unless . . . unless you give up on yourself and 
the path you have chosen."

He leaned over the blond apprentice, reached out with both 
hands and began to rub Palin's shoulders softly as he wept. 
He made no effort to silence the sobs, letting his lover and 
slave deal with his emotions as best he could, with the 
decision that only he could make.

It took a lot to make Palin cry, he reflected. The man had 
to be in torment; he seldom cried under the lash, even when 
being genuinely and harshly punished.

Mazruar could only hope his love for him, and for the path 
of magic, would let him consent. Palin's apprenticeship here 
was entirely voluntary -- but if he couldn't master or 
accept himself, he couldn't master magic either. And that 
would be utter tragedy.

He continued to quietly rub his shoulders, waiting as the 
soft sounds of Palin's sobs dwindled into silence.

*I don't want to lose him*, he thought with a pang of quiet 
fear. In all his years he had never been so attached to an 
apprentice.

But then, few wizards were blessed with an apprentice such 
as Palin. He smiled silently to himself at the thought.

Finally, the blond apprentice lifted his face from the quilt 
and looked up at him. His cheeks were wet and shining with 
tears, but the sobs had ceased. Mazruar held his breath.

"I -- I accept," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Mazruar arched his eyebrows, waiting without a reply.

"I accept your terms, Master," Palin said, more clearly this 
time.

Mazruar nodded -- and permitted a gentle smile to grace his 
own lips.

"Good," he said, and put out his hand again, fingers 
stroking the side of Palin's face, provoking an ever-so-
faint ghost of a smile.

"Now, there is one final condition: tomorrow morning, the 
servants will be gathered in the Great Hall. And *you 
yourself* are going to explain my orders to them -- while 
naked and kneeling before them."

Panic and shame flashed across Palin's face again, but this 
time he clenched his jaw and would not look away. He said 
nothing.

"I'll be right there beside you, of course -- I will not 
abandon you. I'll be happy to prompt you if you forget 
anything. But you *will* do it."

Palin swallowed yet again, but this time his gaze remained 
steady.

"I will obey you -- Master."

A warm thrill of pride filled Mazruar's soul, and he reached 
down to embrace Palin, showing him his own feelings, his own 
love.

"So be it," he said when the embrace ended. "Now, spread 
your legs, and I will apply the chastity spell . . ."



Palin had to force himself not to look down at the soft rug 
under his knees. He *would* have tried to cover his face, 
but Mazruar had seized his wrists and was holding them 
behind his back in a gentle but firm grasp, forcing him to 
kneel, head up, while the humiliating tears ran down his 
face and the castle's servants looked upon his nakedness and 
listened.

"Easy," Mazruar's voice soothed. "Take your time."

Palin struggled with the lump in his throat, taking deep 
breaths, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control. 
His tears blurred the morning sunlight streaming through the 
Great Hall's windows, filling his eyes with sparkles.

He kept his thighs straddled widely apart as Mazruar had 
taught him long ago, hips thrust forward. His master never 
tolerated his trying to conceal his genitals or his arousal. 
Even as the severity of his humiliation brought tears to his 
eyes, it gave him a fierce erection.

The clothed servants watched him without a trace of scorn -- 
the same servants who had watched with delighted laughter 
and lust when he was punished in front of them, or who 
gleefully mocked and used him when Mazruar instructed them 
that such was permitted.

The faces of several of the human servants even held 
expressions of sympathy, as if they would have loved to step 
forward to comfort him. But Mazruar had ordered them to 
listen in silence to Palin's halting words, and they did.

He drew a shaky breath and continued, his voice growing 
stronger as he spoke.

At long last he finished, adding the ritual words Mazruar 
insisted upon: "Use me, I beg of you, use me." He was amazed 
his voice didn't break on them.

A moment later, his hands were released from behind him and
Mazruar's hand was under his chin, caressing him before them 
all. "Well done, beloved pupil," the elder wizard said 
softly.

Even through the anguish of his humiliation, Palin felt a 
warm thrill at the words. The hand left his chin, lightly 
ruffled his well-brushed golden hair.

Long moments passed as the servants watched in silence. 
Someone coughed softly. Someone else shifted their weight 
from one foot to another. Mazruar's hand stroked his hair as 
Palin knelt with eyes closed, motionless, the lump in his 
throat gradually subsiding as his breathing steadied.

*I can do this*, he told himself. *I must do this.*

Then there was the feeling of a soft cloth against his face, 
stroking, drying his tears. He held still, letting his 
master care for him.

The cloth finished patting his skin dry, retreated. 
Mazruar's voice broke the Hall's silence again.

"I will give you a chance to begin here," he said. "Go 
ahead. Approach one of them. Now."

Palin took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking around 
the silent half-circle of watching servants as his heart 
pounded in his chest.

His gaze halted on Teril, a big, strapping man with a shock 
of coarse brown hair who worked in the stable. Teril had 
used him before; he could be rough, but he usually wasn't 
outright cruel. Sometimes he even gave Palin a massage, 
afterward.

It would be Teril, he decided.

He got up slowly, feeling his nakedness keenly, and walked 
toward the other man. When he reached him, he knelt and 
crossed his wrists behind his back again. He looked up into 
the man's blunt, friendly face. Teril's expression had 
changed from open sympathy to something else -- amusement, 
perhaps.

Palin began, his voice still soft and uncertain at first. 
"Teril, please, fuck me . . . I beg you . . ."

"That is not convincing enough, Palin," Mazruar's gentle, 
ruthless voice spoke from behind him.

The lump in his throat threatened to rise again, and he had 
to push it down by main force as Teril looked down upon him 
and smiled.

"Please . . . fuck me! Take me from behind, Teril. I need it 
so much . . ."

 

He was able to persuade Teril to take him there on the floor 
before all the other servants and his watching master. But 
in the end he failed, his surrender too little to satisfy 
the older wizard.

Afterward, Mazruar and even Teril held him gently and 
comforted him as he wept, but his tears were brief. It had 
been a beginning. Toward the end of the sex, as Teril had 
thrust to his own satisfaction inside him, his own moans 
were not feigned but heartfelt, his shame forgotten. He had 
glimpsed the way to freedom from the chains inside him.



Direct comments and criticism to: maureen_lcn@spamless.yahoo.com . 
Flames ignored or laughed at, all constructive criticism 
gratefully accepted.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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