Forbidden Gods
XVI. Behind the Mask
The happenings outside weren't heard loud enough to Paris, and he thought the best way to revive himself after a very long day's tumble; he should get some real sleep. However, no matter how hard the prince tried to close his eyes, images of Achilles flashed through his mind, and they weren't the kind of fantasies that you should sleep to.
So he spent his time for a nap, staring at a point on the wall until he heard a knock on his door.
Achilles! He thought, but it wasn't. The sun has not dipped low into the lands for it to be night. It only barely touched the tip of the foothills, which made every shadow and light glow red and orange. Paris hated that time of day, it irritated his eyes and made him want to shut them, until the balance of day and night were separated. He opened the door to find Agamemnon standing there. Panic seeped into him at the sight. "That was quicker then I expect." The prince looked around to find the bodies gone. He must be here to talk to me about them. He thought to himself. "May I come in?" Agamemnon was still outside of his room and grew impatient of standing all the time.
"Of course." Paris moved aside for his father to enter. Something was on the king's face that worried Paris. He knew something. "What is it my lord?" he asked. "Nothing son. It's just that I'm worried you were harmed. If you haven't notice, three guards were murdered today. Have you not notice?" Paris thought of Achilles, then he looked at the bed, it was in shape enough for it to mold into his lies. "I was on the other side of palace when all of this was happening, and stayed there after someone told me of the killings near my room. When they cleaned it up, I came in here to take a...nap."
"Hm..." Agamemnon was not really buying it and the prince could see it. But something was more urgent in his mind right now, that he pushed the thought away. "Paris would you please sit down right here? I must have a word with you." Paris jumped to the bench out looking his balcony and his father joined him. "Something wrong?!" Achilles was constantly rolling in Paris' mind. Just as much as they rolled around in his bed. Damn, why can't I stop thinking about him! I must pay more close attention to the problem at hand. "Paris, the man that killed those people; do you have any relation with him?...Paris...Paris!" "What?" Paris was staring at the balcony, in dazed with Achilles.
"Do you need some aide my son?" Agamemnon touched Paris' forehead and cheek with the back of his hand. "No. I'm alright, promise. Why have you caught the killer?" There was a sign of importance when he asked that one question. Agamemnon chuckled, bearing his foxy smile. "Yes. It was Achilles."
Paris' delightful thoughts of him were at arrest, and he twisted his neck abruptly. Fear was in his eyes, and his relaxed breathing made a drastic stop. "What!" His response were no more then a whisper. Agamemnon carried on about how they stopped and that they never found out why. No this can't be happening. We should have left the door closed!! Damn him for not doing so! Wait- why should I scowl him? He's the one technically in deep shit. They right now are putting him in chains and being tortured by some specialist! I can't stay here; I can't live when knowing I could have done something to help. "I'll be right back, we'll continue this later!" Paris jolted off the bench to make his way to the basement, but a strong grip stopped him to do so.
"No we will not continue this later." Agamemnon held his frail wrist tight enough, leaving a mark. "I do not like your attitude about this topic, and how you use this so unlikely then I've would imagine. He pulled Paris down on his knees. The prince thought he broken his wrist. "After all I have done for you. Sparing your life and giving you a better one, without anything in return..." Each syllable that Agamemnon hisses brought him lower to Paris' level on the marble floor. Paris couldn't move his right hand without bring excruciating pain. He felt Agamemnon's warm gaze upon his skin, and the thought burned into his mind full of fear.
"Well that phase has gone now." Agamemnon pushed Paris austerely flat back on the cold marble. Before he could get up Agamemnon sordidly push him back down and inclined his heavy weight to pin the broken creature down. He pulled Paris' legs apart for an aptness entry into Paris. The prince kicked and screamed emulously for help, but by Agamemnon's countenance, or expressions no one heard them or even would help the prince challenging the king's commands.
The juggernaut above Paris laughed immensely the more the prince tried to resist. He ripped at Paris' tunic; lashing it off his slim torso. Until the prince' screams tired the king he lunged his tongue into Paris' mouth that made him gag if Agamemnon would go down to deep and forceful. When he knew his cries wouldn't ever be answered he tried eminently to defend himself by force. But his only one hand would work and Agamemnon was a hefty large man. Paris feared that this was the end of his sanity and extremity of death.
After taking off Paris' tunic he ripped his mouth from Paris' florid lips to his neck; where he licked as savage harpies all throughout Paris' flesh. The prince pedantically struggled to get one of his legs out from under Agamemnon to kick with. Though he was too late, the king forcefully grabbed him by the shoulders, and dragged him to the bed. Paris' wrist was distained with his normal flesh tone, to a deep blue bruise.
As he was thrown on the bed, again Agamemnon burdening him with his weight and slicing his legs apart. Hitherto, Agamemnon began at Paris' skirt; pulling it down far enough then wiping his under his feet. Paris lest that he didn't provisioned this before, he should of known that Agamemnon having the traits of geniality was balderdash. Now he began to understand that his purpose of voyage was not in politics but worse; bondage. The perplexity of the whole thing was bringing him much disquietude; and he shut out his eyes, hoping it will end fast for him.
The jolting form brought even more unnamable pains, this time it plunged between his legs. He arched himself up in pain; letting out a painful long groan. The abominable king pushed himself in and out of Paris continuously making Paris indignation more violently then before. But it only aroused Agamemnon in doing it more deep and hard. Paris tried to embattled Agamemnon, but soon his strength quailed down. He trifled on then Agamemnon tried to force his tongue down his throat once more. Paris furiously tried to cast his head aside, stopping Agamemnon entrance into his mouth, brandishing from one side to another. But the king convinced him to stop and probed his lips to Paris'.
Odious boiled in Paris at the fretful blackguardly roughly plunging into him from all angles. Paris was a connoisseur of sex, and knew as innocent that led into this man's bed would be rapture and torn to pieces. Agamemnon sedulously continued insensibly, and not knowing the red, raw scratch marks on his back from Paris. He then went to Paris' neck; making a painful inflammation on his skin. Paris pulled at Agamemnon's hair mercilessly making him stop. "Stop fretting!" he hissed then bound Paris' hands together above his head and transverse his mouth on the inner side of Paris' sweating wet thighs. "no." Paris could barely get anything out of his throat, through it being sour and hoarse with all the screaming.
What did I do to be accursed like this? The thought ran through his mind over and over again. He again reared up in pain from the sting that Agamemnon gave him from sucking his thigh to practically biting it. Luckily Paris' other free knee smashed into Agamemnon's face, but only infuriating him more to bring himself up to Paris for another dreading kiss. Only this time Paris snapped at him when he got close enough to his own mouth. He couldn't go far, because his arms were glued to the bed. Agamemnon chuckled at the wildness of Paris and advanced on him again the same way. The prince reared at him, trying to bit off any skin that touched his face. Twice more the king tried to kiss him. Just when Paris reared back to his normal state, believing he won, Agamemnon forced his way in sharply; catching Paris off guard.
I can't do this any more. No more! Paris quite all signs of movement and resistance for his freedom. Without any force to respond with Agamemnon stopped, pulling himself out for the last time. When Paris had the room to escape from his arms, quickly got out from under Agamemnon and curled himself on the other side of the bed. Unmanning he shivered more then a filly; as the king began to get his own clothes on.
"You were not at all bad prince. Looks like you were shaped nicely." Agamemnon walked out of the room, but not before his head clashed into a sharp qualm; knocking him out. Paris threw a glass vase that stood gauntly on the side of the bed. His breathing was hard and rough only from intense anger finally coming out from him. "Bastard." He scowled to himself, and then collapsed on the bed.
After bedding the girl from this morning, to Achilles eight times throughout the day and a brutal screwing with Agamemnon against his will Paris was beyond tried but couldn't even sit up long enough without resting his aching body. And now what Agamemnon has just unlawfully committed to him, he laid there broken.
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