Intro: Did I say this was going to be the last chapter? OOOOPS!
CINDERFELLA
Chapter 8
Trouble Settling In
Michael was hustled into a prison carriage in the grip of two beefy guards. He was seated in the middle of them and blindfolded. They took off.
The carriage twisted and turned. They drove for hours and hours. Michael grew more and more frightened. Where were they taking him? How could Ben possibly find him? The guards wouldn't answer any of his questions. They wouldn't let him talk. He lost count of the turns and corners they took. He wondered about his family. He hadn't seen them since the trial and hadn't talked to them since they were arrested. In a weird way he missed them. He knew he'd never see them again. He wondered if they were dead.
Eventually the motion of the carriage and the darkness of the blindfold lulled him to sleep.
Who knows how much later, he jolted awake. They had stopped.
"Wh – where are we?" he quavered.
"Shut up!" the guard snarled.
He was hauled out of the carriage and hustled along a bit. Then, without warning, he was shoved forward, hard. He stumbled forward blindly, tripped, fell, rolled. OOOOFFF!
A short distance behind him, he could hear iron squeak, clang. There was a scraping noise.
"What's happening!" he cried out, frightened.
"You can take off your blindfold now!" said a rough voice," Follow the white flint stones and you'll soon find the house. It is Sunday night. Sir Ben will come to your door in four days at exactly 6 PM. Make the most of your time because two guards will come for him at exactly midnight!"
Footsteps scraped and faded away.
Michael ripped off the blindfold at last and took a deep breath. His nostrils filled with the scent of pine and earth. He looked around and gasped at what he saw.
It was night. He was in the middle of a deep, dark forest. A large, waning, gibbous moon hung overhead, icing everything in silver. Huge pine trees towered overhead. He was on a wide footpath. On either side the thickness of the forest was black and frightening.
In front of him was a 20-foot high iron barred gate. Each bar was as about 7" thick. The top of every bar sported a wickedly sharp spike. On either side of the gate was a barred fence, also spiked. To the left and the right, the fence disappeared into the trees. The rat's cage.
Michael turned in the opposite direction and as the guard had said, there were a trail of flint stones on the ground, glowing white in the moonlight. They stretched away into the dark.
He was frightened. He was lonely. He was cold. Everything was so still, so silent, so black. Only the white stones were his guides as he slowly walked along the dirt path. He walked for about two or three minutes until he was totally disoriented. Finally however, the stones bent toward the right and he entered a large clearing. And in the center of the clearing was the house.
The moonlight lit everything up like day. Michael was charmed. It was like a fairy tale. The house was a stone cottage. The roof was thatch. The left side of the cottage rose higher than the right in an extra story giving it a sort of lopsided appearance. The second story had a small chimney and there was a larger chimney near the front of the house on the right. There were a few windows placed in logical places. There was a wraparound porch. There was a porch swing on the left side of the door and a rocking chair on the right side. The front door looked thick and sturdy and was made of oak.
A wolf howled. Close. AAHHHHHH-WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Michael jumped. Maybe this was a good time to test out that door. Quickly he grabbed two of the white flint stones and tested them. Good. Sparks.
He ran to the cottage. Onto the porch. Opened the heavy oak door. In swung inward. He ran through it. He slammed it shut. It slammed shut with a solid, secure sound. He felt around on the door and found the bolt. He shot it home. His heavy breathing slowed. He was safe.
It was pretty dark in the house but the moonlight shining through the front window showed an oil lantern on a living room table. Michael turned it up and the cottage was filled with a cozy glow.
It was all one room. The door opened directly into the living room. There was a fireplace set into the wall of the front of the cottage. Next to the fireplace was the big living room window that is to the right as you entered. There was a smaller window to the left of the door as well. There was a bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. There was a couch and an easy chair and a coffee table. Beyond the living room there was a dining table. There was a back door. To the left was a staircase. Michael scanned the house carefully. There was something missing.
Michael decided to check out the back door later. He took the lamp up the stairs. At the top there was a door on the left and a door on the right. The door on the right led to a tub and a sink. Through the door on the left, Michael looked in and saw a bedroom. There was a king size bed, as Justin had promised. There was a wardrobe and a bedside table. There was a bookshelf. One shelf held a line of books and another a line of comic books. There was a window facing the front of the house. To the right of the door was a smaller fireplace, which explained the left hand chimney outside.
Suddenly, the events of the day caught up with Michael. The adrenaline of the flight into the house wore off. He did not want to go back down to that large, cold, empty room downstairs. He went into the bedroom and shut the door, feeling that extra sort of nesting security that comes from shutting yourself behind a second door and especially into a small, cozy room.
He put the lamp on the table and shed his clothes. He crawled into bed and under the sheets. He turned out the light. Suddenly he was bone weary. He was soul weary. The seriousness of his situation suddenly impressed itself upon his heart with the weight of a cinder block. He was the prisoner and at the mercy of one whom he had mistreated. He was unloved by all but one. His loved one was far away. He was alone in a dark forest. There were wolves. Hopefully, not in the confines of his cage. Justin wouldn't do that? Would he?
Loneliness squeezed his heart. He wanted Ben so much it hurt. He began to cry. And so doing, he cried himself to sleep.
BJBJBJBJBJBJBJBJB
The next morning:
Michael woke up needing to use the facilities. He got up and dressed in his pants and went downstairs. He hunted around for a door he might have missed and was about to go into the back yard when he saw a door leading to a cupboard under the stairs. He checked it and found a mop, bucket, broom and, (OH THANK GOD) a toilet.
As he did his business, he wondered why there was a picture of a teenage boy on a flying broom chasing a small golden ball on the wall under there. How strange.
A few minutes later he emerged and washed his hands in the sink. He finished washing and took another look at his new home in the morning light. The light streamed in through the windows making it a very different place than the dark cold room of the night before. He went over to the front door and unbarred it and discovered it was a Dutch door. He opened the top half and let in even more light and air. He looked out over the lawn and graveled clearing and saw the path he came in on curving away into the forest.
He didn't want to think about that. He turned and padded over to the back door. It too, was a Dutch door. He opened the top half of that one as well. There was a rocking chair near this door as well and steps leading down from the wraparound porch onto a large green lawn. Michael went out and stepped down. The dewy grass felt wonderful on his bare feet. He walked over to the right hand corner of the property where a large garden had been planted. There were lettuces, beans, carrots, radishes, corn, and tomatoes and a few other vegetables; Michael would have a closer look at later. There was a composter.
Seeing all that food, made Michael hungry. He padded back inside, shutting the bottom half of the back door but leaving the top half to that one open as well. He looked around and then it hit him what was missing.
There was no kitchen. There was a sink with a pump, but nothing else. No icebox, no stove, no drawers, nothing that made up a kitchen. There was no food.
Michael felt a stab of fear. Oh, God, this was it. Justin had brought him here to die slowly. He had told him he would be fed but it had been a trick. He would starve and die like the dog he was.
In despair, Michael turned and sat down at the dining table and started in surprise. Up to that point he had just thought it was an empty table. But there were two items in front of him. An envelope was lying on top of a folded up blue and white tablecloth.
Dear Michael,
Since you are reading this, it means you are hungry and have noticed there is no kitchen.
That is because there is no need. Besides, as I recall, you cannot cook, anyway.
The tablecloth before you will provide you with whatever you wish. Just clap your hands twice and say:
'I'm hungry, give me something to eat'
When you are done, clap your hands twice and say: 'I am done, lay all away'
Oh, and Michael…I haven't experienced this myself but I was told to make sure to tell the cloth please and thank you once in a while. It could get…temperamental.
Your brother,
Justin
Michael put the letter back in the envelope. He did not understand at all. But he was so hungry now, and it seemed like he had no choice. He clapped his hands and said the words. The tablecloth unfolded.
Michael's eyes grew wide and round as coins in wonder and delight.
BJBJBJBJBJBJBJB
Four days later…
Michael had developed a very simple routine.
Wake up, go downstairs, open the tops of both doors, get some morning air. Have breakfast. Back upstairs to wash and dress. He'd take a book and take it outside where he d read a bit on the front or back porch. He'd start to read and think about Ben. It'd be lunch time and he'd realize he hadn't gotten more than a few paragraphs in.
He'd have lunch. After lunch, he'd go work in the garden, although after a few days there was nothing to do but water. Maybe he'd go for a walk in the woods, as far as he could, anyway without hitting fence. Go home. Read a bit more or just pace.
By this time it would be getting on toward sunset. So he'd bring in some wood from the pile at the side of the house. He'd go out and try to read some more. Watch the sunset and think of Ben. He wondered if Ben was watching the sunsets thinking of him. He doubted it. Well, maybe. Hoped so. Nahhhh. He had better things to do.
It got dark. Got cold. Mikey would take in his unread book and shut and bolt both doors against the night. He would use the flint stones he had picked up that first night to make a fire. He'd have dinner. Often he'd take whatever the tablecloth would give him and eat it by fire, on the coffee table. Take the plate back Clean up and thank the cloth. Then he'd try to read again but a lot of the time, he gaze would be drawn to the bearskin and a few times in those four days, he'd sink down onto it and revel in it's softness and pretend he was there with Ben in it, rolling around, making out, fucking in front of the fire. When he could no longer stand the silence anymore, he'd put out the fire and go up to bed and cry himself to sleep.
In short, he was quickly going mad.
Finally, it was Wednesday. He was unable to do anything but eat and pace and think about sex and Ben. He walked around the house till he collapsed in the rocking chair but once he was sitting, he couldn't stand being in one spot, and so he'd pace again. Finally, he went upstairs and took a bath. He got squeaky clean. Dressed in something nice but easy to rip off (there had been extra clothes in the wardrobe) and went to get some wood. (For the fire… he'd been carrying wood around all day)
About ten minutes later, a little while after he had started a fire, there was a knock at the door.
And there he was. So large and wide, he filled the doorway and twice as gorgeous.
"Come in out of the night," he said. Ben did. "Where are the guards?"
"I think they're waiting by the gate."
"Ahhhh." There was nothing else to say to that. Michael shut the door.
"I brought us some wine," Ben said.
"Great, great," said Michael, taking it, putting it on the coffee table, "We'll toast later. There's something else I'd like to drink first."
"What's that?" Ben asked.
"YOU!" Michael pounced, kissing him fiercely. The two of them were slammed up against the door. Ben was a little frightened. He was the bigger man but Michael had the manic energy of a prisoner and Ben found that he could not fight him off. And after a few seconds, he didn't want to. He kissed back fueling the fire. Michael was in heaven. They kissed and touched and groped for several minutes. At last, Ben managed to move toward the couch and Michael let him. He joined him. His breathing was heaving, ragged, feral.
"I can see you're very pent up," Ben said, "But if you need to take things slower…maybe talk a bit…I'm here for…Michael? What's wrong with your eyes? They're all wide and dilated."
"Because I can't look at you hard enough," answered Michael.
Ben was dressed all mountain man style. He wore a red stocking cap, a red/black/white but mostly red plaid button up shirt and jeans. He wore hiking boots to complete the picture. With his muscles, chiseled jaw, and wide, flat nose, he was masculine and perfect.
"Michael? What's wrong with your nose? Your nostrils are flaring."
"I can smell your soap and your scent. It's masculine and musky. It's driving me crazy," said Michael. "Do you like that shirt?"
"Yes, I do. Do you?"
"Very much. I suggest you remove it, for in 5 seconds I'm going to rip it off you." His breathing grew more ragged in anticipation.
Ben looked into his eyes and saw he was serious. He took off the shirt.
Michael's eyes grew more dilated if that were possible. He ripped of his own t shirt and pressed up flesh on hard flesh and rubbed slowly, carefully. He mustn't over do it. He mustn't scare him. He smelled him again and the masculine scent drove him wild. He licked and tasted and nipped a bit. "Ohhhh, yes! You smell…absolutely magnificent! So delicious!"
"Michael? Are you feeling OK? Your breathing is a little irregular."
"So's my heartbeat. You're making it speed up. I've thought about this night since I got here. I think about you, holding you, all the time."
"Really? That's so sweet. I think about you all the time too. Especially at the end of the day. I look at the sun set and think of you."
"Say Ben? Do you like those pants?"
Ben got the message. He was stripped and naked in a matter of seconds. He reached for the red stocking cap.
"Michael's breathing grew more ragged, more feral.
"No, no…" he growled, "Leave it on. I like it."
He looked. He growled. Ben looked back like a deer caught in the headlights.
He pounced.
He pressed up against Ben with a ferocity that astonished even him. He kissed Ben deep, deeper, deepest, He couldn't get enough.
Ben felt consumed. He pressed back and fought. They fell onto the floor, writhing and rolling on the bearskin rug. Ben was used to being the top but Michael was just too strong for him. He ended up on his back, his wrists pinned against the floor in what felt like iron restraints. Michael kissed him deeply again, sucking, biting. Again, Ben felt consumed. Michael moved down kissed his neck, his shoulder. He nipped it and then bit, drawing a bit of blood.
"OW!" he yelled, "Michael, what the Hell!"
"Shhhhhh! I know it hurts," said a growling voice that Ben didn't recognize. He struggled. Couldn't move. A pair of green eyes, hard as flint came into view. "Just a little reminder that you're mine. Only mine. I'm yours. Only yours. For my life." The eyes bored into his. He'd never forget this moment. It was terrifying and erotic all at the same time. "Do you believe this Ben?"
"Yes, I believe this," he told the eyes, half hypnotized. He realized he did.
Growling and snuffling happily, Michael licked and laved his way down to Ben's chest where he bit and pulled until Ben was a submissive, sobbing hunk of desire.
"Protection!" he demanded, and Ben grabbed some from his discarded pants.
Michael tossed the condom up in the air, caught it in his mouth coming down and ripped it open. In one quick motion, he sheathed Ben's cock.
"YAAAAAAAA-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Michael howled in joy.
Somewhere, deep in the forest, something heard and answered, "AAAAAAHHHHHHH-WOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Then Ben watched in astonishment as Michael's mouth opened wide, wider, wider.
And with one swift downward motion, Michael ate him (well his cock, anyway) ALLLLLLLL up!
MBMBMBMBMBMBMBMB
Several rounds of amazing, animalistic (but safe) sex later…
Michael snuggled against Ben. They had moved up to the bedroom after the first round. Well, if you consider Ben throwing him over his wide shoulder and carrying him up, moving up. He felt sated and heavy and safe at last.
"You know what really set me off?" he asked, "It was when you told me you think about me at sunset. I've been doing that too."
"I' thought you've been thinking about me all the time," Ben said teasingly.
"Hmmm. That too. But notably at sunset, always. I love you, Ben."
"I love you too."
"Keep sunset open for me?"
"I will. You?"
"Yes, I will."
They lay there for a few more minutes.
"Well," Ben said sadly, "I think it's time to think about getting ready to go. It's nearly midnight."
"No! Stay with me! Stay the night! I cannot bear it!"
"Michael! You know I cannot. You know that's against King Justin's plan for us. They won't let us!"
"This is intolerable! I cannot bear it! You cannot imagine the boredom, the silence, the sheer ache of wanting you. You saw how I was after 4 days! Imagine what it will be like after seven. Ohh, this punishment is inhuman! Stay with me! I'll – I'll fight them! I'll take responsibility!"
"Michael! You can't fight them! You're talking crazy!"
"I don't care," Michael said sulkily. "I can't be given the whole world…and then be expected to give it up the next minute! I've got to try. I've got to…" He began to cry.
"Shhhhhhhh…Everything will be all right. I'll stay with you if I'm able. Shhhh. I'm here. I'm here…" Ben rocked Michael like a baby. Michael blubbered even more.
Midnight came and went. Very soon, they came. BAM! BAM! BAM!
"OPEN UP!"
BAM! BAM! BAM! "OPEN UP OR WE'LL BREAK OPEN THE DOOR AND YOU'LL HAVE NOTHING FOR THE REST OF YOUR TIME HERE!"
Damn it.
"FINE! I'M COMING!" yelled Michael back, feeling taller than he was. He strode down the steps and threw open the door, still gloriously and defiantly nude.
"Where is he?"
"Upstairs. He's staying with me!" He wished it came out as brave as he meant it to.
"That's what you think! For God's sake! Hang onto whatever dignity you have left and put something on!" A soldier marched past them and up the stairs.
"This is my house! If you don't like it, get out! And I want him to stay! I'll - I'll fight you!"
The soldier just laughed. Within a few minutes, Ben was dragged downstairs, also nude.
"Get dressed and come with us immediately! You are breaking the rules of this visit!"
Michael was still defiant but he didn't see the point in staying nude in front of guys who didn't care. He put on some underwear and pants. Ben also put on his jeans but he stood in front of Michael defiantly. "He wants me to stay. I'm staying."
"Come with us now, or you'll risk a stay in the dungeon!" They grabbed his arms and started to drag him out.
But Ben had reached a stage where he could control his FADES. He concentrated and he went transparent and slipped out of their grasp.
He ran back to Michael. "NO! I'm staying! And if you try to force me I'll just Fade again and run back! I'm staying! He needs me!"
"And King Justin needs you back after midnight! You might be able to pull that trick! But your boyfriend's solid! A soldier grabbed Michael around the neck and held his sword to his throat. "I'm under orders not to kill your little boyfriend here… but I can always pull out an eye! Or cut off an ear! He pointed at each thing with the point of the sword. Or finger…by finger…by finger…" He grabbed Michael's wrist painfully tight and pressed so that his fingers spread out. He raised his sword…
"ALL RIGHT! Stop it! Stop it! I'll come with you! Just don't hurt him!" Ben yelled. He broke down sobbing quietly.
"Then put on the rest of your clothes and stop this foolishness!"
Ben obeyed and looked at Michael brokenly. Michael looked back steadfastly and nodded slightly. He understood. It was all right.
The soldier continued to hold him hostage until Ben was ready to go. The soldier pushed him out of the cottage ahead of him.
This time it was Ben who yelled back: "I love you, Michael!"
And Michael yelled back: "I know!"
At last the soldier released him. "Try this again, and you will be hurt! Oh, and the majesties will be informed!"
"Good! Then you can give them a message from me!"
"What's that?"
"Bring it on!" he snarled. And with that, Michael slammed the oak door as hard as he could in the smug bastard's face.
And he was left with the cold and the dark, once again. Slowly, he went back up to bed. He realized his was probably going to be in BIG trouble. Fear gripped his heart. He grabbed Ben's pillow and smelled his scent until he fell asleep.
