The Lieutenant's Tale

NOTE: I do not consider this story erotica as it's nonconsensual, yet I placed it in this genre in the hopes it may be more noticeable. I realize this story is very long but if you stop by and are interested in browsing beyond a few words, and ESPECIALLY if you decide to rate it, PLEASE send along a review, as I would really, really, really appreciate feedback on how I did with the character development in this story. This ties in to a serial of mine but stands well enough on its own so it should be understandable. I ask that you please DO NOT rate if you don't want to comment, but I'm really hoping that somebody is considerate enough to send me a thoughtful review or two on this piece. Thank you!

Words that might not be understood in this story:

"nesakh'ai"--sex
"hakh'tua"--oral sex (particularly fellatio); a sign of domination among the Kana
"sen'akha"--homosexuality or a homosexual
"sen'akhai"--literally, a homosexual, but is interchangeable with the above
"Apsiu"--fantasy race of humanlike beings I created; they are furred, some bear wings, and are a warlike race living under a strict caste system
"Moru"--the slave caste, which is all females and Apsiu who cannot fly; also used as an insult
"Kana"--the warrior caste, which is all males who can fly; in addition the Kana are divided into further castes which wear differently colored lappets, according to their rank and profession

Please let me know if anything else in the story confuses you and I'll gladly clarify.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Stuck on the Ameni Chronicles for the moment, I decided I wanted to try out a companion piece for "Savior" . That item tells the story of how Lieutenant She'hekha first broke free of his father's house to become one of the most skilled fighters of his tribe. That story is in third person and is from Lieutenant Fa'rukha's (She'hekha's trainer) point of view. I wondered what would happen if I tried a similar but wider-ranging story from She'hekha's point of view itself?

She'hekha first appears in a later chapter of the Chronicles. Basically, when he visits with another tribe, another Kana wonders about the intricate pattern of deep scars lacing his back, and other characters wonder about his strange sexual preference for being fought against or beaten up during the act. (One of his mates takes a good chomp out of his ear.) She'hekha gives his reasoning in the serial, but let's see what happens when he lets us know for himself just what happened during those four years in his father's house.

Keep in mind this is only the THIRD official item I've written in the first person (the other two being "Surrender" and "Lucifer/Lilith, Part 1."

I DO NOT remember how it started by now, which I find rather amusing, considering how clear my memory is on just about everything else. Perhaps it would even be an irony that I have forgotten that first incident, while I have clearly remembered every moment of all the rest. The mind can be a strange thing.

I would only be able to assume I had angered him somehow, though I'm afraid I could not tell you how. Basically it took nothing at all to anger him, so I could have done anything, even something trivial. Perhaps my birth itself was enough of a disappointment for him, as I was the only son he ever fathered, even among his Moru children. Daughters? I may have had some sisters or half-sisters, but I do not know nor do I really care. From what little I know he preferred me just fine.

My earliest years are clear enough. The days mostly filled with yelling and rantings about what a poor Kana I would make, should I ever even live to join the army. Strangely, my father trained me back then. This is only what all good fathers do, yet that's exactly why I find it so strange in retrospect. That was the only time in my life he ever put any effort into bettering me himself. I can safely say my fondest memories of him are of the two of us sparring in the garden. At least for a short while it was like any other boy with his father, play-fighting and hoping to become a good Kana someday and bring honor to his family's name.

The few times I started to fight well, he even almost smiled at me, his eyes lighting up with pleasure to see his son excel so.

Then, invariably, my little toy sword would go flying from my hand...and father and son would quickly transform into the shrieking madman and the cowering pup. His voice was such that it could send splinters of pain dashing through one's ears. If I had not been such an ignorant pup, I would have learned to deal with it, and would have simply fought harder.

Yet I was lazy (at least to hear him tell it), and no matter how often our mock battles took place, I did not improve much. To this day I still do not know if it was his fault or mine. My father has never been a superior fighter, and this is one of the main reasons I do not kill him today; it would be far too easy an end for him, and not worth my time. Perhaps I lacked skills because I lacked the right trainer? I hate making myself out to sound bigheaded, but based on what happened once I acquired a better trainer, I am not likely to disbelieve this idea.

Kana youth begin informal training for fighting as early as the age of three or four. So I had much time to futilely try to improve my skills. I hated the thought of that shrill voice ringing in my ears, but even more than that, I wished to make my father proud. That is the greatest goal of any Kana, to bring honor to his and his family's name. My father was the only family I have ever known. We had not even proper servants, simply one or two who answered the door and served dinner. Aside from that, the rest of the time we were alone. I did not even play by myself. I was training, always training. I did not resent this one bit, for even play among the Kana is a form of training. I was merely dealing with it in a more realistic way, is all.

Faulty training from a faulty trainer, no matter how much effort I put into it, was not nearly enough to appease him. I suppose neither of us can be blamed for that. He did try, as hard as he could. At least, when I was young. Perhaps that is what led to the change. Perhaps he merely got fed up.

All I know for certain is that around my twelfth year--not long before my official entrance into the Kana army was to come--the toy sword, not quite so little now and not quite so dull, went flying from my hand yet again, for what could have easily been the millionth time. I fully expected the tongue-thrashing that was to come, and managed to prepare myself for it.

What I did not expect was when he picked me up under the arms once he was done, carried me inside the house and down the hall to his quarters, sat down upon the bed and tossed me over his knee, and lifted my kilt to paddle my behind as hard as he could. That was a first for me. I remember I squalled like a pup separated from its mother. I had never cried like that before. That was a first for me also.

The final in this day of firsts was when he lifted me from his knee and placed me on the bed itself, pushed aside his kilt and my tail, and thrust himself inside me as deeply as he could. No, I must make a correction. The real final in this day of firsts was the way I screamed when he did this. I have never screamed like that before, and I never will again. For I learned not to, that very day.

His response to my cry was to just pull back, and then push into me even harder. I would have screamed again had I not started choking on my pain. My silence gave him the chance to start talking and explain why he was doing this in the first place, when I had expected merely a tongue-thrashing.

"You ignorant little Moru brat!" he screamed as he moved. "All these years I have trained you MYSELF! You are to enter the army within two years! This is the best you can do? Every day--you lose your sword to me! You never grow any better! You are as worthless as a slave! Do you know what happens to boys who cannot fight? They become MORU! You might as well have been born a girl! At least then that would explain things! Perhaps that is why you keep losing your sword--you've lost your prick and your balls, also!"

Mind that, at my age, I did not even understand most of what he was saying about me. Many other Kana boys my age would have understood, but not I, as I did not grow up in their company. My father had called me plenty of names before, Moru and girl among them, but what he said about my sword eluded me. I must laugh now when I remember how when he said balls I had honestly thought he was referring to other toys Kana children typically played with. If it had not hurt so much I would have found it amusing back then, as well. For I had not had any balls to begin with--only my toy sword. And so what was he talking about?

Of course, those were not quite the balls he had meant...I discovered this later. For the time being, my father continued pushing at me for perhaps a good fifteen or twenty minutes, screaming the entire time. My head started to grow foggy but he always managed to drag me out of fainting by pulling on my ears or pinching my wings. I must thank him for one thing that day, the fact that he took the time to explain what this had to do with my training, and why he was doing it. For I had been quite confused, up until then.

"Filthy little Moru ingrate! For all that I train you, you NEVER once give me anything worthwhile in return! But that I had had other sons besides you--you who are not even a son! STUPID FEMALE! If you are not good for fighting then perhaps this is ALL you are good for! I will just have to rut at you until you get it through your thick little skull what a MORU you truly are!"

All Kana, even pups, know what a bad thing it is to be Moru--flightless, wingless, a slave, no better than a girl. Moru is the greatest insult a Kana can suffer, and men have died for flinging this name at others in recklessness. And their deaths have been justified. Even though I did not fully understand all that I was told that day, I did understand what my father meant when he called me Moru, and it was only perhaps several months later when I accidentally spotted two of his Moru mating in the Moru quarters that I at last understood why he had done that to me. Before then, I'd had no real idea what nesakh'ai was. Afterward, I knew. I could not fight, even against my father's mediocre skills. And so I was nothing more than a Moru, a slave, a woman. And what is the main thing Moru and slaves and women are good for?

Unfortunately, this tactic did not help me improve my skills much. If anything I believe they lessened, such as they were. The day of the first time I had managed to get in a few good swings at my father's sword, but the next time we fought, I got in barely one, and hardly an hour had passed before I lost my sword. I had never sparred so poorly as that. Well, at least I cannot say I didn't fully expect it when he dragged me back to his quarters. I cried and fought him the entire time--another mistake on my part, especially considering how poor I was at fighting, even armed. He slapped at my wings, bruising the membranes in such a way that the bruises barely showed, yet every time I stretched one wing it felt as if it had been set on fire. He pulled on my ears hard enough to make the tears stream down my face, and he kept holding them, yanking on them like a Kana pulling on his Sha's reins as he rode me. The bed actually creaked and thumped, he moved so hard. It was strange and surreal in a way, as at first he did not even bother talking to me; aside from his panting and my weeping, and the sounds of the bed moving and his flesh hitting mine, it was perfectly silent. I even remember hearing the faint sounds of the few Moru in the household, and I dimly wondered if they could hear us, if they would try to stop this had they known it was even happening.

But why should anyone have tried to stop it? For all I knew, this was the punishment Kana boys suffered when they could not fight properly. He had said it himself--I was just a Moru. Moru do not have rights. Short of murder, and sometimes even including that, a Kana may do just about anything he wishes to his slaves. I had grown up relatively certain I was Kana--I had wings, I was male, and I could fly--but now my father was making it clear that this was not so. For no real Kana boy would allow himself to be rutted at like some pathetic Moru.

The third time, my hand shook so badly I could not hold my sword more than fifteen minutes. The feel of my father's claws digging into my thighs as his cock tore through me hurt more than anything had ever hurt me, that night. But I did not cry out loud. And he rutted at me for only about ten minutes before coming. It was the first time he had finished inside me, when the first two times he had pulled out. Instead, this time I felt his searing heat coursing through my insides and had shuddered. My eyes spilled over. But I did not cry out loud. And he quickly finished with me, and pulled himself out and rolled off, panting and heavy with exhaustion. He even let me lie there without disturbing me, and I eventually drifted into sleep. Never mind that later on that night, toward dawn, I awoke to feel him in me again...nor that, promptly at daybreak, I was forced to stand while he screamed epithets in my ears. By now they sounded all the same, and at least as long as I stood there he was not inside me, so I bore the screaming in silence. My sparring did not go well that day either. I would like to say it did, for three tries has a nice pattern to it, but it was not so. I believe it was fully a week or more before I finally got the real pattern down. Every time my sword flew, my father's temper would as well, and losing my sword meant spending the rest of the day upon his bed with him atop me. At least, in theory. I do remember that on one occasion he was so infuriated that he eschewed carrying me all the way to his quarters and merely threw me down where I had stood.

I remember how hot the tiles were against my belly that day, how rough they felt against my moving skin. They had always seemed smooth before then.

At last came the day I learned the truth of the pattern. My father's sword clashed against mine--and my own sword stayed within my hand. I saw the surprise in his eyes as he stumbled and nearly fell, not expecting me to hold my own. I was thirteen. He swung again, and again I parried the blow. A third time I did the same. A strange feeling arose in my breast. For some reason I felt some small bit of glee at seeing the confusion in his eyes. This only grew the more enraged he became, and for the first time in my life I managed to hold him off throughout the entire bout of sparring until he finally threw his weapon down in exhaustion.

I still spent that night in his bed.

But at least his pushing and clawing were not so painful as they had been before, and at least he did not scream names at me. He did not even tug on my ears or call me a Moru. As I recall, he said not a word that night, and if it were not for the fact that my father was coupling me like a Kana coupling his slave, things would have been almost normal for once.

Unfortunately, my skills were not so persistent, and some days sparring went better than others. I saw the pattern now. Whenever I did poorly, out would come the pain and the insults. Whenever I did well (which was all too rarely), the pain would not be so great, and the insults were practically nonexistent. I barely spent a night in my own bed anymore. The Moru females in my father's slave quarters went neglected for most of the time. I believe everyone within the household suspected, or even knew, but it did not matter. Lord Hakh'tas's house was Lord Hakh'tas's house, and no one questioned him.

My fourteenth year approached, and Kana sent out by the general arrived at the house as they did every year, only this time my father answered them in the affirmative, and brought me to the door. He verified my age for them, and practically beamed as he bragged about my fighting skills. The two Kana looked me over with some skepticism; for fourteen years old, I was rather slight in build, my face pale and my wings drooping more than they should have...I had not slept well the past night. Truthfully? I had not slept at all, as it is rather impossible to sleep with someone pushing himself inside you every hour or so. The previous night my father had been much more lustful than usual, and it was only as the Kana took me away with them and I glanced back to see the look on his face that I understood why. My father's eyes glittered as we walked away. If his mouth had been open he would have been drooling. I didn't doubt he wished more than anything to take me upon the pavement, right then and there.

Instead, I was received at the Kana training barracks, where I was given armor and a new sword, this one a real one, and much heavier than the toy swords I was used to fighting with. Its weight impressed me greatly and I spent my first moments there whirling it around in my hand. Then we were called out to the training yard to show off what skills we already knew, so we could be better placed as suited our skill level. I swung my sword at an invisible opponent; although it was heavy, still, I somehow managed. I knew I could get better with time. Then I noticed that my father had arrived to take his place among the other fathers and spectators who stood at the edge of the training yard, and his eyes were upon me.

And my sword slipped from my hands and struck against my foot with a thud.

The Kana lieutenants supervising us were quite understanding. What more was expected of Kana youths, just about to be inducted into training in the general's army? A mistake now and then, especially such a simple one upon the first day, was expected; based upon my skills I was fittingly placed in the third division, that for those boys whose skill level is one notch above the lowest. What could be said? I had trained with a sub-par trainer, and this was all I knew. Still, placement in a training division is never permanent, and the lieutenants made many comments on how easily I could move my way up to the first division, should I only try hard enough. I vowed to fight my hardest.

Most Kana boys in training remain to sleep in the barracks--yet not me. My father dragged me home by the arm, all the way through the streets, without saying a word. Was he proud of his son for being accepted--albeit just barely--into the general's army, of displaying his skills before the general's lieutenants, of being promised the chance to rise within the ranks, possibly to become one such lieutenant himself?

Well...I do not know. All I know is he broke the pattern I had grown used to that night. Along with my skin. For as soon as we set foot in the privacy of our own home, my father dug out an old training weapon of his own--a whip--and shrieked obscenities as he snapped it at me, the leather stinging across my back so hard that welts arose, then cuts, then gashes. I ran from him, from room to room, at first, until he overtook me in the courtyard, laying my back open as I cowered beside the pool. It was only by luck that he did not slash open my wings, he flailed the leather with such fury. His voice had gone so high pitched it was nearly unintelligible.

"FILTHY--MORU--WHORE! ALL of this for NOTHING! NOTHING! The Kana army! THE KANA ARMY! Just ONCE you could make me proud of you--and you DROP YOUR DAMNED SWORD! In front of the GENERAL'S MEN! Third division? I will divide you--divide your filthy skin into PIECES! You should have been FIRST DIVISION! You should not have DROPPED YOUR SWORD! All my life I have spent training you for this day--and you throw it away in one moment! ALL OF MY LIFETIME! All of the time I have WASTED upon you! INGRATE! You do this to SPITE me for all I have done! I know how you think, you cum-drinking whore! You live merely to HUMILIATE me!"

Oh, I need not clarify everything he said; it simply went on, in much this manner, for perhaps a half hour or so. That was how long he spent whipping me, at least. You do not believe me when I say a Kana thrashed his teenaged son for half an hour or more? Well then, I can only shrug and hope you do not ever have the misfortune of seeing such a thing happen, for it is entirely possible. That first set of scars I still bear today, although they have since been covered over by many more.

Once he was done sating himself with that, he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me to my feet, having to drag me again as I was nearly in a swoon from pain and loss of blood. This time, I noticed several of the servants and Moru peering at us as we passed, yet they quickly retreated before us, without so much as one word. We reached my father's quarters and I dimly knew what was to come next--some parts of the pattern can never be changed--but by the time he tossed me down and thrust himself inside me I did not care. What he was doing to my insides felt like nothing compared to what he had done to my back. I actually welcomed the chance to simply lie there as he moved atop me. At least he was not still whipping me. Until that day, I had honestly thought the rapes were as painful as it could get.

A new pattern was established the very next day. I was dragged out of bed before dawn, about an hour or so before I was to return to daily training at the Kana barracks. My father called upon a physician living in town and hired him out to work from our household. I sat upon a cot and made every face imaginable as the other Kana rubbed salve upon my wounds and carefully wrapped them in linen gauze. Fortunately for him, my father was too preoccupied staring out the doorway, as if expecting to be set upon, to notice the looks the physician kept giving me. I saw the perplexity there, with more than a hint of fear, yet he said nothing. I said nothing either. I allowed him to finish wrapping me in gauze before he picked up his case, bowed to my father, and departed to set up house in his own part of the household. At that my father gave me a venomous look and jerked his head at the door.

"You are expected there!" he snapped. "Although gods only know why! If you are late, I will tear into your wings next!"

Thus began the pattern. Every morning I would rise before dawn to have whatever wounds had been inflicted the night before wrapped in fresh bandages; I would set out for the Kana barracks, where I would train all day with the rest of the youths, my skills neither improving nor worsening by much; in the late afternoon or early evening, I would return home again; and then depending upon how well or how poorly I had done that day--sometimes even completely at random--I would either have to face the whip, and then my father's cock inside me, or else just the latter. Truthfully? You may think me mad to say that by then I much preferred the latter. At least I was used to it. Whipping, that is something one can never quite grow used to.

My father did slightly alter the pattern by starting to tie me to the bed, spreadeagled upon my stomach, with the leather cords cutting into my ankles and wrists. I am a bit puzzled as to why he did this, as I was usually too exhausted by the time he started on me to thrash around much. Although I did tend to jump and flinch away from the whip, so that must be the real reason he began binding me. I suppose it would be easier to whip someone who is tied down, after all.

In all honesty I think my training years would have only gone on like this indefinitely, had not my father started to grow careless. His rage knew no bounds, not even those of the schedule set by the barracks lieutenants. At first he was careful enough to limit his attacks to the night hours, and to allow me just enough sleep to make it through the next day of training, albeit barely; yet my skills slowly started to lessen, the longer he started to keep me occupied. Upon one occasion he tied me down and slung both insults and the whip at me for what seemed to be ages, before doing what he always did. Most other Kana would have lost consciousness, but for some reason I never did. Perhaps I knew it would hurt more if I slipped away inside my head. The pain you know is easier to bear than the pain you do not know, as they say, and so I remained fully conscious for the next five hours that he spent ramming himself inside me as deeply as he could. As I said, I was used to him, so I know that on this occasion he was more violent than usual, as when he at last pulled himself free, he then started beating me upon the ribs with his fist.

"You piss-soaked pile of filth! You've gotten your blood all over me!"

At first I thought he meant from the cuts on my back--but when he untied me and dragged me upright, I felt the sticky warmth between my legs and knew what he was talking about. Do you know what? For some reason, this did not bother me one bit. I felt nothing at all except the physical pain. Very odd, don't you think?

Well...as I had said, he began to grow careless. Instead of limiting himself to sating his lusts at night, he began to keep me away from the Kana barracks during the days, as well. It was only once in a while, mind you, and he always made sure to send a messenger along to the barracks to excuse me from training. As I was such a mediocre fighter, the excuses came to him easily. I can imagine what one such letter would have said: "Please excuse my son; he is a pathetic pile of Moru dung, and is not fit to train in the illustrious general's barracks." Well, I admit that was meant to be somewhat humorous; though it cannot have been too far from the truth of what my father was thinking.

Of course, keeping me away from training only made my fighting worse. It is odd that I had hardly ever noticed or paid much mind to our particular barracks lieutenant until I noticed how often he now looked at me. He could not have been much older than I was, which was in itself quite odd, as Kana are extremely lucky to make it to lieutenant third class before their sixteenth year, and barracks lieutenants must be of at least first class rank. This lieutenant was a first class, and although the most I had really noticed of him before was his voice as he yelled at us to go through our moves, now I seemed to see much more of him around the training yard. He was usually standing before the rest of the trainees yet giving me an odd look with his brow furrowed in a perplexed manner. At the time, I was always so exhausted that I could only dimly wonder why he always stared at me like that if he had better things to do. Looking back on it though, I realize that he noticed my deteriorating state. I did not notice it at the time as it happened so gradually, yet every day my moves grew slower, my arm unsteadier, my face paler; every day I panted heavily much sooner into the training, and sweated more heavily, and grimaced in pain whenever I felt the wounds on my back tear open as I fought. Yet I did not tell him, and I did not tell anyone. I must chuckle to remember this now, but I recall that I actually thought I was being discreet. That my silence alone was enough to keep my father's and my secret. I was rather naive back then, wasn't I?

The worse my skills became, the greater the punishments inflicted at home. My father nearly yanked my arm from its socket as he pulled me into his room one day, flailing the whip across my backside. He had never whipped me there, strangely enough, so of course I yelped when he did so, not having expected it. That was a mistake. For he grabbed me by the back of my neck and slammed my head against a column just hard enough to make my nose bleed and to daze me momentarily; then I was flung down at the bed, and since I landed on my back, he jumped up to straddle me, hurling his fists into my ribs. I was stupid; I cried out again. Perhaps if I had expected this particular attack, I would not have been so foolish. My cry only made him hit me harder, then he rolled me over and struck my back repeatedly, opening up all of the wounds which had only just started to heal. He beat me so soundly that when he rose I noticed how red his fists had gone from soaking in my blood. He stormed to the storage chests to fetch the cords, and proceeded to tie me down, yanking on them hard enough to make me wince as he spat at me.

"Do not think I have not stopped by to see how you are doing over there! Moru fight better than you do! Females fight better than you do! At least a female can claw at your eyes as you are sticking your cock in her. Oh yes, what is this?--YOU HAVE NO COCK! I cannot even THINK of a creature lower than you are! Would that I had wrung your neck the day you had been born, to spare me this embarrassment! The things I could have accomplished with my life but for having to tend to YOU every damned day!"

And here I had thought he enjoyed it; now I learned this daily routine was only a chore, and an unwanted one at that. How disappointing. He finished tightening the cords and I heard him remove his kilt. The sun had not even fully set, and already it was time for the nightly ritual. He yanked on my ears, pulling my head up, and though the tears streamed from my eyes, I did not cry out this time. My eyes met his. They were flaming.

"After all of this time," he hissed in a deadly whisper, "and you still do not know your place. Little cock-sucking whore!"

He slapped me hard with his free hand, then let go of my ears so my head fell back to the pillows. He irritatedly pulled off his loincloth as he went and this is a strange thing for me to admit--but that is the first time I ever saw him fully naked. How can this be, you might ask, when he had been assailing me for fully three years now? All I can say is that he had always come at me from behind, and had never requested hakh'tua, so I had never even seen that which he used to inflict such pain inside me. The closest I had come was when I had seen my own blood staining his kilt, the night he complained to me because of that. He turned to walk away now and I saw his sheath nestled between his legs, and he was not protruding from it. Some vague part of my mind wondered about this. Every other time he had come at me, it was as if he had been hard immediately--he had never had to wait for anything. Yet tonight, for some reason, I had to lie and listen to the sound of him rubbing at himself, panting heavily and bouncing slightly upon the bed as he did so. My ears twitched when the three sounds started to merge together, in the same tempo, the sound of his hand lightly slapping at his sheath, the quick gasp of his breath, the slight squeak of the bed. I could feel his motions right beside me, and smell his musk as it filled the room. I even managed to very, very slowly and slightly twist my head to the side to peer back at him. I saw the strange look on his face as he stroked himself. His head had tilted slightly back and his eyes were closed to mere slits, his mouth open and tongue showing. For all this being such a chore...he had much the same look on his face, as I had seen upon the face of the male Moru as he took his female in the Moru quarters so long ago, when I first learned what nesakh'ai really was.

Abruptly he stopped stroking himself and dropped his head forward, his face contorting with rage. I shut my eyes just in time to escape him seeing my scrutiny. I felt his claws dig into my arm as he crouched down over me, and felt his spit fleck against my ear when he hissed into it.

"Pile of stinking shit! You are so worthless that you make this even more of a chore now! All of this time I waste on you, for nothing! My time would be better spent with a real whore!"

A whore. That was a name he had called me so many times, but it had had little meaning. I felt him tear off my loincloth and viciously part my buttocks, then he entered me, with one quick stab; I gasped and lurched, something I did not often do anymore, but he was so far gone already that he did not even notice. The feeling of his claws digging into my shoulders as he started thrusting seemed oddly clear today, as did the reek of his musk and the harsh panting sounds he let out. I again noticed the distinct creak and thump of the bed, the rustling of the sheets, even the vague sound of our bodies shifting against each other. Then, to my surprise, I noticed the sound of my own breath. It was coming fast, practically snorting from my nostrils; I noticed how my claws dug into the bed, how my wings and muscles tightened, quivering; how every wound to my back and bruise to my ribs screamed out in agony; how the cords slowly dug into my wrists and ankles until I could feel my hands and feet start to go numb...

Then, even more oddly, I noticed the tightening ache down between my own legs, and another, unfamiliar yet oddly familiar scent joining that of my father's musk. It took me a moment to recognize my own scent, as I had never really noticed it before, but now that I did, I sucked in the smell, growing ever more curious. And the strange feeling in my loins drew my attention also. I noticed that it seemed to increase the longer my father pounded into me, and the more widely the gashes to my back stretched open. When he grasped my ears to yank on them as hard as he could I gasped and stiffened from head to toe. I now very distinctly felt the swelling of my sheath, the smooth slipping feeling of my shaft hardening and rising from it to press against the bed. It had nowhere to go but there; my father's increasing motions made me rub against the bed faster, and it was as if all of my senses lit up--I could hear everything, see everything, smell everything, feel everything, taste everything--everything that was in that room, in that bed--my arms and my legs started to shake, trembling against their bonds, and my wings fanned at the air, my breath rising into a quick gasp which fell into beat with that of my father. Even my hands and feet, as numb as they were from lack of circulation, started to tingle. A million thoughts raced through my head, disconnected, yet somehow making sense to my suddenly overactive mind--the Moru mating--my father's sheath--the lustful look upon his face--my blood upon his hands, upon his kilt--the whip as it sailed through the air to slice into me--his fists as they pummeled my ribs--everything started to come at me in unison, the images and sensations joining together and coming faster and faster, every whip fling and fist punch and yank of the cords merging and combining with the blood and the musk and the sweat and the panting and creaking and thumping--I heard my father hiss at me, heard the sound of the whip as he pulled it along the bed and up into his hand--

"Filthy little whore! Stop tightening! Lie still--!"

And not the whip, but the handle of the whip, came down to strike hard against my back--I felt my wounds split wide open, fresh blood spilling down my sides, even as I flung my head back and let out a scream--every limb pulling the cords as taut as they would go--as I felt something inside me, beneath me, explode, waves of ecstasy such as I'd never felt washing over me, making my muscles quake! I heard my father gasp in surprise, and felt his hot spurt of release--then tightened and shook and wailed again when I felt something else equally hot spreading beneath me upon the bed. At first...and I must laugh here, I admit...I honestly thought I had lost control of my bladder, all over my father's precious bed. But pissing had never felt so good before...and based upon my father's reaction to this, that was not at all what had happened.

"YOU DAMNED LITTLE WHORE!!" he shrieked, his voice doing that ear-splitting thing it does so well. I could actually hear him snarl and raise his arm. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU WERE A FILTHY LITTLE PERVERT! SEN'AKHA! ENJOYING TAKING IT FROM MALES! I SHALL SHOVE THIS WHIP UP YOUR ASS WHEN I'M THROUGH WITH YOU, AND SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT THEN--!"

And with that, he cracked the whip handle against my nape--and it all made sense to me now. The nape--that part of the body which a male seizes in his jaws, whenever he mates with a female. It is the female's--or the submissive mate's, if he is sen'akha--instinct to go limp then, to allow themselves to be mated by the dominant one. I had learned a little bit after all in my limited time spent in the Kana barracks, for although females are not allowed there, on occasion males will take other males, when there are no others around--and more than once I had seen this happen, when the barracks lieutenant was away. For some strange reason, my mind had never associated what the trainees did amongst themselves in the abandoned barracks, with what the two Moru had been doing, nor either of those with what happened within my father's rooms. Yet it all combined, and all made sense now. Whore. This my father had always called me--as we engaged in nesakh'ai. I did not know the word "rape" back then, nor did I have any reason to think that was what this was--all I had ever known of this, lying submissive while being taken, was that it was nesakh'ai and nothing more, and now I at last fully understood that I was the Moru, the submissive one, my father's mate. Just as clearly as that female was the mate of the Moru, and those passive Kana in the barracks were the mates of their more aggressive partners. The whip handle against my nape triggered this realization, for I immediately tightened and let out a hoarse cry, then fell limp back against the bed. My wings crumpled around me as I collapsed in utter exhaustion. My seed flowed upon the bed, soaking into the sheets, into the mattress, dampening my fur with its sticky mess. That was what this was. Nesakh'ai. That was what all of this screaming and beating and whipping meant. It made such sense now that I thought about it, that I started to chuckle weakly into the pillows, my body shaking.

The room fell into brief, dazed silence, as I sensed my father staring at me in disbelief. Then he stumbled up from the bed and grabbed a dagger from the chest. He sliced my wrist free, then my leg, and hurled me over onto my back. I opened my teary eyes to look up at him as he straddled my chest, wielding the dagger at my throat, his face contorted in fury. His eyes blazed and he gnashed his teeth in a snarl. I could feel his tail whipping--and oddly enough, the fact that it was whipping across my still-wet sheath only made me laugh harder.

My father practically screamed at the air. "WHAT IS SO DAMNED AMUSING?" Then he punched me so that blood spurted from my nose, cutting off my laugh. "You WILL NOT laugh at me! You SHIT-EATING whore!! I SHOULD SLICE OFF YOUR BALLS FOR THAT!!"

The vague part of my mind immediately thought, But I was told I had no balls...?

That only made me start to laugh again. And that enraged him so much that he beat me in the head, both with the whip handle and with his fists. And that, friend, is the only time I ever lost consciousness while in my father's household.

That isn't to say I forgot anything that happened, for when I came to it looked as if there was nothing I had missed. Nothing worth noting, at least. In fact he was the one who dragged me out of unconsciousness, dousing me with cold water and slapping me across the face as hard as he dared. "Get up! Lazy brat!" he snapped. "You are already going to be late, and I will hardly tolerate you hanging about HERE all day when I'm already wasting my money on you!"

Yes, you heard right...although my back was flayed wide open, and my wrists and ankles were raw and bleeding, and my head and ribs were bruised and sore, I was still expected to follow the pattern and report to the Kana barracks. The poor physician did all he could to make me presentable, although there was not much he could do. Truth to tell, I pity him for the part he played in the whole thing. I showed up at the barracks around noon, far later than the customary arrival time; I saw, from my good eye at least, how the rest of the trainees stared at me openly as I limped into the yard. The barracks lieutenant noticed my state as well and came straight toward me; I was so weak, I remember I nearly fell over when I saluted him. Excuse me while I chuckle.

"Private..." He had to look at his roster of names, and I ended up answering for him.

"Private She'hekha, Lord."

"She'hekha." He looked up at me again and frowned. "There has been some incident you wish to tell me about?"

Oddly, I almost answered him with the truth. There was something in his voice and in his face that made me hate lying to him. Though telling the truth would not have been a wise idea, at least not then. "I was involved in a fight after training yesterday, Lord," I replied, and this made his frown grow.

"With anyone in particular, Private?" And he glanced around at the other Kana waiting in the training yard.

"With no one from these barracks, Lord," I said, and that was pretty much the extent of our first conversation. I could tell he was displeased with leaving the situation unresolved, but he was only the barracks lieutenant, and whatever went on outside wasn't any of his concern. His nostrils flared and he turned away and began addressing the trainees in whole. I picked up where I had come in, and as to be expected I did not perform very well that day. However, neither did I drop my sword.

Dusk finally settled and we were dismissed. Most of the Kana started to head toward the barracks sleeping areas; as always I headed for the entrance to the yard, to head back into the city. The lieutenant's call halted me, and he gestured me toward the barracks. Yes, I knew it would not be smart to keep my father waiting, yet I obeyed anyway. I followed him toward the emptiest of the sleeping areas so far, where he stopped in the far corner and turned toward me with arms crossed.

"Now that we are not in public," he said, "there is still nothing you would wish to tell me?"

I remember feeling rather amused by the way he carried himself--this Kana, who could not have been more than two or three years older than myself, speaking to me as if I were a pup getting beaten by a barracks-yard bully. Considering my state, however, I could not have blamed him. "There is nothing much to tell, Lord," I merely said. "The fight was resolved."

His ear twitched. "I take it that a winner then has been declared?"

That almost made me want to laugh, but I managed to maintain my composure. "In a way." That was the most truthful comment I had made that day.

He stared at me for a moment, then let out a sigh and nodded his head toward the doors. "You may go, then." As soon as I turned around he added, "You may wish to fight on the outside a little less, and on the inside a little more. This is the fourth day this month you have arrived late. Perhaps you should speak with your father, and determine if barracks training is really the proper choice for you."

I knew this was the polite way of saying that I was a lousy Kana. Still, I did not take any offense. He was only doing his job, a little more so than was required, in fact. However, his words must have had more of an effect on me than I then thought, for as soon as I arrived home and was grilled by my father as to what had happened that day (for a change he had not been present), I told him nothing of the exchange. This was very strange for me to do. He had ways of finding things out, and so far I had never lied to or withheld anything from him. Why then did I withhold this? To this day I am not sure.

A week or so later a messenger arrived with a scroll for my father, who received it and closed the door, pacing through the household as he looked it over. It was a day off from training, and so as soon as he came upon me in the house he snarled and rolled up the scroll, smacking me over the head with it. I flinched, as it barely stung at all; yet he kept futilely hitting me with it as if hoping to open up a wound. I merely stood there and let him.

"Filthy brat! Do you know what this is? This is from that pesky lieutenant of yours! Fa'rukha! Do not even think you are being trained by one of the general's best, you little whore. I have heard stories of him--the snippety upstart! He probably serviced the general's captains just to get the job! And now he is complaining that YOU are not trying hard enough! That YOU will be suspended from training if you do not show up more promptly, when I am the one who sees you off every day! Can you imagine this? This little pissant, complaining that YOU are the lazy one!"

It was quite a funny conversation, as onesided as it was; I believe that was the closest my father ever came to standing up for me. He was so caught up in ranting and railing against my barracks lieutenant that he even forgot to tie me down and stick himself in me that night, and so for a change I actually got some sleep in my own bed. Go figure, that my lieutenant's threats of suspension actually gained me a respite, however brief.

For a moment as I lay in bed drifting to sleep I vaguely thought, Fa'rukha. So that is his name. I had been training in the barracks for over a year now, and I had not even known my own lieutenant's name.

My father made an honest attempt to curb himself just enough to see me off to the barracks on time every morning, in at least moderately decent shape--meaning, able to walk about on my own--although occasionally there were failures. The less frequent my tardiness and absences became, the more lenient became Lieutenant Fa'rukha, although I sensed his frustration. I did my best not to speak with him whatsoever. An odd thing was that now whenever I wielded my sword in the training yard, it actually felt as if it...meant something. Before, training had always been a chore endured to lessen the beatings I knew I would receive otherwise; holding onto my sword had meant only that perhaps that night's assault would not be quite so painful. Now, though...swinging my sword through the air, I realized what it really was. A weapon, something used for both defense and offense. The thought intrigued me, though I did little else with it. Still, it made the weapon easier to handle--and despite my weakening state, for the first time in my entire life, my skills slowly began to improve. I noticed that I trained harder whenever Lieutenant Fa'rukha happened to pace by. I was never skilled enough to be paired against him, like the most skilled of the trainees; I was still pitted against the weakest fighters in the barracks. But it got to the point where I hardly ever dropped my sword anymore, and on one occasion, I even at last knocked the sword out of another Kana's hands. That I had never done before, not once. I saw that Fa'rukha noticed. The next day a scroll arrived for my father and as before he read it while walking through the house. Just as before, he sought me out as soon as he was finished with it.

"LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT THIS!" he practically screamed, shaking the scroll in my face. "LOOK WHAT HE SAYS ABOUT YOU NOW! Improving! He says that your skills are improving! That you do not drop your sword, that you can hold your own against others, that you even knock the swords from THEIR hands! Take a look at these things he says about you!"

Allow me to correct you early on, friend, if you are under the mistaken impression that my father was proud of me. For the truth seemed to be quite otherwise. If his reaction to my lieutenant's first, threatening message had been quite contrary, then this reaction was even more contrary still. To celebrate this good news he dragged me back toward his quarters, tied me to the bed, and...I know you may find this rather offensive to your sensibilities, but you wished for an accurate story, did you not? Well, suffice it to say that he took Fa'rukha's scroll and shoved it where he was much accustomed to shoving something else entirely.

"THIS is what I think of your 'progress'!" he snarled. "You think I do not know? I KNEW something was going on over there! This is why I want you kept HERE! You are servicing that lieutenant, aren't you? PROGRESS! This is what he calls it when he MOUNTS you, isn't it? Does he call this PROGRESS?"

He rammed the scroll into me as far as he could, which was not far, considering that it was made of papyrus and...well...not much suited for this purpose. When that failed him he pulled it out and used himself instead. He merely continued screaming about how I must be submitting to nesakh'ai with my lieutenant--making myself sen'akha--and from the way he went on about it, one would have thought him jealous. Me, I could only laugh into the pillows as he lurched atop me. Myself and my lieutenant! Lovers? When the closest I had ever come to him was the lie I had told him in the barracks? The thought was a very amusing one, and although I knew it would result in a severe whipping later on, I laughed the entire time my father assaulted me.

Well, I suppose I may skip over a good part of the tale for you now; unless you find the same old accounts of being tied down and whipped and mounted all night, then training in the barracks all day, then repeating this, over and over, interesting. I will safely assume you do not. Suffice it to say that is much how it went, though my father's earlier resolve to tone down his nightly activities, so as to lessen my lieutenant's suspicions, began to wane. He began keeping me longer, keeping me from sleep and food, beating me even harder. He raped me almost every night, although to his credit he did allow my back to heal itself somewhat, a few times, though not for long. And so I had wounds upon scars upon scars crisscrossing one another at any one time, and scars formed upon my ankles and wrists as well. He did become more clever at limiting his beatings to my back, though, so they were easily wrapped and concealed beneath my armor every day. The physician, poor old Kana, must have gone through many a roll of gauze as he tended to me. I would not doubt that some of my father's anger stemmed from how much he had to pay for that gauze. *chuckle*

Fittingly, the skills I had begun to finally acquire began to fade as well again. Although I tried as hard as I could I even began to lose my sword anew, and I could no longer hold my own against the other, weaker Kana in the barracks. At last when on one occasion a scrawny private I was battling against swept my weapon right from my hands, nearly cutting off my head in the process, and I landed on the ground with a heavy thud, Fa'rukha promptly called an end to training, and I was sent home. That eve my father happened to be in the city trading, and I went to train on time the next day as usual. The night after that, however, he had returned, having caught wind of Fa'rukha's decision...and I believe that is what led to the end of it.

I was sixteen years of age now. I know my father had long grown frustrated and infuriated beyond belief with the way I always laughed and climaxed beneath him whenever he thrust into me; perhaps this news merely set off what had already been building up. In any case, when I arrived home that night he let out a shill scream such as I had never heard, loud enough to split the ceiling. He did not even wait for us to reach his room before he started. The few servants and Moru fled as he started pummeling me right there in the main court. When I collapsed, he grabbed me by the ears and started dragging me that way. I can only imagine the noises I let out were quite odd as well--have you ever been dragged about by your ears? They are unusually sensitive organs, it seems. Thankfully he could not maintain his grip on them and so finally switched to dragging me by the arm. I managed to get to my feet, stumbling forward, though he only shoved me at the bed so I fell over it. Every limb ached terribly; I lay and let him tie me down. He smacked me across the backside with the handle of the whip a few times before jamming it against me; I thought for certain he intended to rape me with it, yet he didn't. He appeared to change his mind and used his cock instead. He lasted all of fifteen minutes; I must confess I was not impressed. I was still too dazed to react much, as what he was doing did not really hurt much more than usual; at least, at the moment it didn't. I started yelping and bucking accordingly when he began to whip me. Then he grasped my ears--they were still stinging, and so I gasped--and yanked my head back hard enough to make it difficult to breathe. He put his muzzle to my ear as if to kiss me.

"This is the absolute last time," he hissed, and I felt his spittle upon my face. His voice was no more than a whisper, yet it aroused in me a feeling I had not had in a long time--fear. I was not used to him whispering with me. He tugged on my ears to recapture my attention. "The last time you come back here with your tail between your legs, your sword out of your hand, and your head hanging like some whipped Moru! I should slice off your wings and jam your sword up your ass! Would that make you fight any harder, you steaming puddle of piss?"

I do not know, to this day, what it was that finally made me talk back. Perhaps it was the odd tone of his voice, or my fear, or my exhaustion, or all of these things mixed together. All I know is that suddenly my fear died away--I realized that shoving my sword inside me actually was the worst thing he could do, besides kill me, and either way I would end up dead, and this would be over. I would no longer wake up to a day of fruitless training, and retire to a night full of vicious insults and agony. I guess that at that point, I at last realized I had absolutely nothing left to lose.

I managed to swallow despite the burning in my throat, and opened my streaming eyes, and said:

"Perhaps...my sword...would last longer than you just did, Lord."

I saw my father blink. I saw his eyes go wide. I saw his mouth open in astonishment, and move as if he spoke, yet no words came out. I could tell I had surprised him more than anything ever had. And for that brief moment, I felt satisfied.

Of course, this is not a fairytale, and that brief moment was of course brief. I noticed, before my eyes started to blur, the old maniacal look returning to his own; the way his muzzle started to crinkle, his lips curling back in infuriated disbelief. His breath started coming in quick angry gasps as he struggled to find his voice, and by then my eyes had gone closed again. I felt his claws digging into my ears, his hand squeezing tighter. He trembled with pure rage. At last he choked aloud and found his voice.

"You...you think this...this is funny?" His voice started out in a disbelieving whisper, then began to slowly rise. "You think this is amusing? You think you are JOKING with me?!" He drew on my ears harder than he ever had, lifting the weight of my entire upper body; as my arms were still tied, this must have taken him an incredible amount of effort, or else he was so enraged he did not even notice the difficulty; I, however, noticed immediately, as my shoulders and wrists and ears screamed in agony. He yanked my head back as far as it would possibly go so I had to choke to try to breathe, and he put his muzzle next to my ear again. I could feel his tusks pressing against my face.

"You think your SWORD can last longer than me?" he screamed, and his voice reached that hideous harpy pitch it always did, making me grimace. "I WILL SHOW YOU JUST HOW LONG I CAN LAST, YOU LITTLE PISS!!"

He let go of my ears--not only let go, but slammed my head down into the bed, as well. If it had not been covered in sheets and pillows the blow alone would have likely killed me. As it was, he mashed my face down long enough for me to start struggling against my bonds, unable to breathe. He finally let go and I sucked in a burning breath, turning my head to the side and gasping and coughing. I saw the whip land on the bed just in front of my face and for the first time noted how its length was lined with my own blood and fur. I stared at this odd sight and then yelped when he raked his claws across my back.

"You think you are so amusing!" he spat. "You think I will let you go with an insult! Perhaps this will teach you to think again!"

He jammed himself inside me. Pity; I had actually been hoping for my sword. I went limp once more and just let him do as he wished, though I could not help but start to laugh as I felt him moving faster and panting harder. I could tell by the way he squeezed my hips that he was getting ready to come, and it had not even been fifteen minutes yet. For proving to me how long he could last, he was not doing a very good job; it didn't look as if he would even outlast his previous record. I ended up cackling with hilarity as he tried to draw himself out, but failed, screaming when he spurted inside me. Oh, I tightened, and responded, of course; though this was only a physical thing. I was far more amused than excited. As soon as my seed had released itself I only started laughing again.

I felt him start striking me across the back, and his voice now sounded almost like a little girl's. "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!" I had not known anyone other than a female or a eunuch could let out such a squeal, and of course that only made me laugh harder. I was almost tempted to yell at him to fetch my sword and see how long it lasted, but I refrained--somehow. He dug his claws into my buttocks, drawing blood, and let out an unintelligible gurgling shriek. His frustration was evident, though there was nothing he could really do about it.

Well...for the last time I was wrong. For I should have noticed how he did not draw himself out of me when he finished. He merely beat and screamed at me until I felt him grow hard again, while he was still within me, and I found that surprising, as until then I had not even known that was possible for Apsiu. He had not even retreated into his sheath. Once he was hard he started raping me again, and this time somehow managed twenty minutes; after that the beating and screaming resumed, and after that, yet another round of him gripping me and plunging as hard as he could. Eventually my laughter began to die down as the shadows began to grow longer in the dying light. I could tell we had already been in here at least a couple of hours, and so far he had taken me four times. When would he stop? Would he never remove himself from me at all?

The fifth time he started, and I finally did not laugh, he leaned forward in his thrusting to pant, "You wished to see how long I can last? I will simply prove it to you then! A day from now you will wish I HAD used your sword, you little shit!"

He at least kept his word, interestingly enough. I could not count the hours but daylight was coming by the time he finally pulled out of me, so he had gone at me all night. Oh, that is not to say he lasted all night, for of course he had to do it repeatedly, and he never lasted one bout for long; he never had, in all the years he'd done this. Endurance had never been one of his strong suits. Yet persistence certainly had been, and he proved that again that night. And the next. And the night after that, as well.

Three days I remained tied down to my father's bed. He barely kept me fed and watered, forcing a drink of beer down my throat every so often, just enough to make me cough and sputter. As I had not had nearly enough to eat, I did not have to defecate, but that didn't keep me from pissing on his bed when my bladder finally lost control. Even the best-trained Kana cannot hold it in forever, and it was not as if he were giving me toilet breaks. The new stain to his bed, although barely visible in addition to the other stains that had since been left, simply gave him yet another excuse to beat me. I remember; he called me a "piddling little puppy" that day. That was probably the kindest thing my father ever called me.

In any case, the only time he took breaks was for himself, and mostly during the early hours of the afternoon, when I assume he had to tend to his daily business, such as it was. In those three days, not a one of the few guards or servants came to see where I might have disappeared to. I know they would have noticed, as my father was always so strict with getting me to training on time (except for when he himself made me run late, of course), yet I saw not a one of them. Not that I expected them to show. And as I said already, I do not blame them. Even the physician did not appear at any point. I awoke late in the afternoon upon the second day to find that one of the Moru had sneaked out of the Moru quarters and was pressing a cool drink to my mouth, and I admired her for her bravery--or foolishness, whichever it would be as soon as she was dragged away and beaten--which she was, right within my view...only to come to and realize that it was I who was being beaten, yet again, and there had never been any Moru there to begin with. Lack of food and rest, mixed with constant agony, seemed to induce a lot of these strange little visions in me. At least they kept me company.

By the time the third night came, I had at least managed a sort of half-consciousness while he moved upon me. My wounds actually no longer hurt. You may find that hard to believe, but I suppose my body just did not care anymore. My mind was quickly following suit. I could tell this enraged him, yet it was not as if I were doing it consciously...though I wouldn't have stopped, if it had been conscious. I remember that the last real thing I felt was my own blood between my legs, of which there was a great deal by now; my father was never one to use oils. I remember thinking that I had lost blood from just about every opening in my body now; would there be some point at which I lost it all altogether, and simply ceased to exist? Oh, my body would remain, but it would be just a corpse, a shell--my father would be mating a cadaver. This thought made me want to laugh, but I was too numb to care. Even the thought of infuriating him didn't concern me anymore, no matter how delightful it had been before.

I slipped toward unconsciousness, but aside from dozing off--yes, you heard me right, I honestly dozed off more than once--I remained alert--at least, as alert as I could be, with my mind swirling in a foggy haze brought on by little food and rest. I began to wonder if the entire room was not some strange hallucination. Perhaps all these years had been a hallucination. What would be real as soon as I came to?

Strangely...as light at last began to peer in through the courtyard, my thoughts finally drifted toward my barracks lieutenant. Fa'rukha, the one my father had amusingly accused of being enamored of me. I suddenly realized I had not thought of him once, until now--and the thought of him cleared my head somewhat. I immediately thought of the barracks. I had been gone for days now, judging by the sunlight. He had threatened me with suspension, in the past, if my attendance and performance did not improve. I had never been absent from training for so long. Had he noticed by now? Had the other trainees? What would he do about it? Had he done something already? Had my name been taken off the list of those training in the barracks? Would I be kicked out of the army entirely? Or punished? Would he send a summons, or an expulsion letter? Would he do so in person, or have a runner stop by? Would my father tear up the scroll, or jam it up my ass, or fight it, or accept it? Would he send me back...or would he keep me here?

If he sent me back...then what would I do?

When the training day ended...would I return home?

Or not...?

I tell you the truth--that was the very first time simply running away, and never coming back, had ever, ever occurred to me in my entire life. I had not even thought there was another way it could be besides this. Strangely, it was learning that my career in the Kana army was not guaranteed--Lieutenant Fa'rukha could remove me from the barracks at any time he wished--that prompted this realization, that the path my father had set me on was not carved in stone. Nothing was absolute anymore. Not training, not failing, not even this, no matter how long it had been going on. I could just...go away, and not come back. It did not even matter how. My own sword across my throat would have been just as effective as running away.

I stared at the shadows cast by the sunlight hitting the floor now, near oblivious to the by-now exhausted panting noises coming from above me. He was wearing out. Not that he would ever admit it, but it was the truth. Still, he seemed reluctant to leave when someone appeared outside the door and called his name. It was the afternoon of the fourth day. I learned this only afterwards, after he left me lying there dazed and half-conscious, and returned not long after with a venomous look upon his face--and sliced the cords knotting my wrists and ankles to the bed. He pulled on my arm, and helped me to my feet. He walked me into the washbasin area, holding me up as he poured a bowl of lukewarm water over my head, making me shudder. He kept hold of my arm the entire time he scrubbed at me, washing the caked blood from my cuts and gashes and from between my legs. He used the second bowl of water to rinse me off, and even quickly dried me with another towel. He yelled for the physician, who came hurriedly as if he had been waiting just outside, the entire time. He then let go of my arm, and the physician was left to tend to me on his own--and that was when I realized that had been the first time my father had ever cared for me. He had held me the entire time he bathed me, and had not yelled an insult once. He had not even been rough. If I had been a pup and not a nearly grown Kana, the scene would have resembled anything from the household of any Kana who cared deeply for his son. The physician then sat me down upon a stool and started tending to my back while my father stood before me, arms crossed, and informed me of the actual passage of time that had taken place. I then also learned the reason for the abrupt end of all of this, and it had not been because he wanted it to end.

"Guess who I have just heard from?" he snapped. "That's right--that lieutenant of yours. It seems you have actually been MISSED in the barracks, as hard as that may be to believe! One would think they'd be glad to be rid of you, but no, that sen'akhai simply HAD to come panting after you like a dog in heat. He followed your trail all the way here. I suppose I should not be surprised, with how you must hold your tail in the air just for him. It turns out he has missed you after four days and wants you to return immediately to the barracks, no matter what pathetic shape you are in. I let you off with the excuse that you are ill, but he will have none of it. If you cannot keep your sword in your hands you are out of the army, for good this time! And if you return in such a shape, then at least I will have the chance to show you how long I can TRULY last!"

I did not know at the time that he spoke only half the truth, and half lies. For when he turned and flounced from the room, leaving me with only the physician, the older Kana at last took the chance of speaking up on my behalf. He whispered in my ear that he had overheard part of the conversation between the two of them in the main hall. Fa'rukha had come looking for me, in person, just as stated. My absence had been noticed, just as my father had said. But aside from that, it had all been fabrications. My lieutenant, it turned out, had in fact vouched for me, speaking of my improvement when my father insisted on my laziness and lack of skills in sparring. He had gone so far as to say I could have achieved my next rank if I were merely present enough. When my father had insisted I was ill, Fa'rukha had asked if he should call a physician for me. When my father insisted we had our own, Fa'rukha had offered to send the physician of the general himself. When my father had at last relented somewhat and suggested that I had in fact been well enough to attend training that day, if not for my laziness, and promised to send me along for afternoon training, Fa'rukha had asked if this were the best idea, considering my state. When my father had insisted that I would be along shortly, Fa'rukha had even offered to remain behind and accompany me himself. Nowhere was there the slightest threat of discharging me from the army. Throughout the entire exchange (the physician murmured in my ear), while my father ineffectually attempted to shoot me down, my barracks lieutenant had stood up for me.

My father at last reentered the room, and the other Kana ceased speaking, instead finishing bandaging the last of the numerous wounds to my back, putting salve on my wrists and ankles, and attempting to stanch the blood still leaking from between my legs. My father snapped at him to hurry up, so my clothing and armor were put on over the bandages, and as luck would have it now my senses came screaming back. I could not keep the grimace of pain from my face as I finished dressing myself, pulling bracelets over my raw wrists, though what my father said before I at last grabbed my sword and headed out was enough to make me try.

He halted me at the entrance to the room. "If I hear one more report from this Fa'rukha," he hissed, "one more report...you do not want to think about what I will do to you. What you suggested I do with your sword will sound pretty in comparison."

I full well knew he intended to keep me alive. And a bit of the old fear came crawling back. I turned and left for the Kana barracks as quickly as I could walk, which was not quickly at all. At least I was getting away from that house.

The shadows had grown long by the time I finally reached the barracks, where Lieutenant Fa'rukha greeted me. I could tell he was surprised by my poor state, but aside from asking if I were certain whether I wanted to continue training just yet, he said nothing of it. I did not care by then; anything was better than what had been happening already. I reassured him of my desire to make up for lost time, and set out to spar with one of the other trainees.

Well, that did not last very long, before my sword went flying from my hand. My very first thought was that my father would not be happy. As if he were watching over my shoulder that very moment! All I could do was double over; the wounds to my back screamed more than ever, and pure exhaustion was taking over. I had not slept or eaten properly in days. Yet even when Fa'rukha stepped in and gave me back my sword, waving off my training partner, I did not speak up. As foolish as this sounds, I really did feel as if he were there, watching me, waiting for me to make a mistake before he could drag me home. I'd lived through three days and had made it, but what of the next time? I could barely even stand on my own two feet anymore. By now I really did wish he would just take my own sword and get it over with.

Instead, my lieutenant called off training early. My father was not there. I knew it was a stupid decision but I decided to sleep in the Kana barracks that night. I knew if I did not get at least a little rest, I would probably not make it through the next day.

Fortunately Fa'rukha did not question my decision--I feel that if he had, I would have headed straight back home without a second thought, I was so used to returning to that place. Instead, when I turned toward the Kana barracks, he said, "I expect to see you and everyone else at dawn."

I do not know why, but for some reason those words--a strict command to anyone else--made me feel calmer instead, and I headed toward the barracks. I felt his eyes on me the entire time. By the time I laid my head upon my small cot, I had already lost consciousness.

This is not to say I slept pleasantly. As I had not slept much at all in so long, my dreams all came roaring at me, as if demanding to get caught up. I saw the Moru who had seemed to bring me water that one day, although she had never been there; I saw the physician; I saw the guards at my father's house, the other Moru, the trainees I bunked with even now; I saw my father, of course, and I saw the faces of Kana I both knew and didn't know. All flashed before me in strange disconnected manners. I relived almost every second of what had happened for the past several years, up to when I lay stretched out upon my father's bed with my arms and legs tied for three days straight. I saw a shadow fall over me, and looked up, and saw someone leaning forward, holding something in his hand.

My father. Was he going to smother me to death, then...?

My dim eyes cleared, and at last I saw the face of...my barracks lieutenant. I took a breath. I was lying on my side, not on my back. That was right. The barracks. I had merely been dreaming.

Then I realized from the growing light that it was morning--from the silence that everyone else had already gone into the training yard--and from the bloody sheet that Fa'rukha held in his hand, and the pale, wide-eyed look on his face, that...

I carefully reached back my hand to feel at my back. Just as I'd thought would happen eventually...I had kept my armor on when going to sleep, though it had slipped up sometime during the night, and the bandages the physician had used had come loose, too soaked with blood to function properly anymore. My fingertips came back wet and red. I moved my leg and could not stop myself from flinching in pain and disgust at the wet feeling between my legs. When I looked up at him again I could tell that he had noticed that too.

He took a step back when I slowly pushed myself to sit upright. Even more than immediately after the three days, I wished for a bath. I had never felt so filthy in my life. I tried to shove down the revolting feeling of the blood seeping sticky and slick seemingly from all over inside me, though it was difficult to do. I stared at my lieutenant and tried to tell what he was thinking. I do not believe he was thinking much that was coherent, at least. He only stared at me as if my head had been lopped off yet was still acting of its own accord. I paused to make certain the barracks were truly empty before speaking to him. He was the first, and for many years the only, one I ever told.

"Promise you will not tell anyone," I said.

He blinked at me. He opened his mouth as if to speak, yet nothing came out. I could tell he had not expected me to say that. For a moment I thought he would simply turn and walk away and I would return to my father's house that very day, yet he at last retorted.

"If someone has done this to you--"

If someone? I wondered with brief amusement what else he thought could have happened. Perhaps he just did not know what to say. I interrupted him before he could continue. "Promise you will not tell anyone," I said again, and he fell silent this time. We stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity. Dimly I could hear the other Kana out sparring in the yard, their swords clanking. Then it was as if something sparked in my head, at last waking me up from my years-long haze.

He knows. For the first time, someone outside of the house knew. Not only that, but he had just protested to me. No one else had ever done that. Not even the physician. I could tell from the flare in his eyes that even if he promised not to tell, that did not mean he would not do anything. In that moment I saw hatred and rage reflected in his eyes, and at last recognized those feelings somewhere inside me, where I'd never allowed them to show. Yet after a second I realized that was no mere reflection; those emotions belonged to him, as well. The sounds of early-morning training outside at last decided me once and for all. I would never spend another night in that house again.

"I want you to train me," I said. He took another step back as I painfully dragged myself to my feet to face him, my mind at last resolved. "Private lessons. After training hours. I want you to teach me how to fight..."

* * * * *

Well...there is very little of interest to the story after that. Though I will tell you a bit more, to satisfy your curiosity. Lieutenant Fa'rukha agreed to train me on his own time. At first I thought he did so merely out of pity, but that impression did not last long; I do believe that he was even more infuriated than I ever was about the whole situation. When my father of course arrived the next day to demand my return, he met him at the gate and barred his way, stating that according to the new rules of training I was to remain in the barracks until my lessons were complete. My father gave him such a furious glare, and glared at me as well, over his shoulder; I am certain he believed right then and there that we were lovers, and that I had somehow won Fa'rukha's favor once and for all. Well, he was half right, and not on the lovers bit. The day I asked for the harshest training I could ever hope to receive was the day I found a loyal friend.

And he was most certainly not easy on me, no matter how much my wounds cracked open and bled or how often my legs gave out. It is a wonder we did not keep the rest of the trainees awake at night with how we fought. His skills always impressed me; barracks lieutenants are meant to be skilled, yet I could not ever understand why he had not achieved his next rank, nor gone to serve the general himself. Almost every single day he beat me down.

But I grew stronger this time. Food and sleep will do wonders for one who has been beaten and starved a good part of his life, and true to Fa'rukha's earlier predictions, I became more skilled, until I could keep hold of my sword, and then wield it well in defense, and then use it in offense, slashing and jabbing at him as we danced about the training yard. And at last I started knocking the sword from his hands.

Occasionally, my father would come to watch, though not very often, and never for very long. Fa'rukha had friends, and they would always make certain he did not manage to harass me at any time. As I did better and better the look on my father's face grew uglier and uglier. I should have realized it long ago, but now that I was no longer living under that roof, I knew. He had never wished for me to succeed. For if I had succeeded in the barracks, he never would have been able to keep hold of me as long as he had.

My plain black private's lappets were soon replaced with the silver-gilded black lappets of a sergeant, and then the silver-gilded blue lappets of a lieutenant third class. These were replaced with those of a second class, and then a first class. As my own skills improved, so too, oddly enough, did my own lieutenant's. We were both awarded the lappets of a lieutenant elite at the same time, and though either one of us could have easily left the barracks then and sought out our own livelihoods, we remained, for training was our life. We did not remain mere lieutenants elite in the barracks for long before the new general happened by while we were training, and paused to watch us. I noticed his cool-eyed stare even as Fa'rukha did not, my friend being too engrossed in trying to make me lose my sword--a futile attempt, as it was. I made him lose his instead. The next day, I was called before General Nehara, who requested that I come to serve his household as first lieutenant. To his surprise, and the surprise of all his top men, I refused...so long as my trainer and barracks lieutenant was not awarded the position of second lieutenant. I could tell General Nehara was not used to having his requests turned on him...but after a moment he smiled slightly. Not long after, Lieutenant Fa'rukha and myself were set up in the general's household and our silver-gilded lappets were replaced with ones gilded gold, the lappets of lieutenants to the general. We have served the general faithfully to this very day.

Oh...I have just realized, there was one small incident I left out. I suppose you are curious to hear my father's reaction to my moving up in the ranks so swiftly once I had been relieved of his influence? It is so negligible now as to almost escape my mind, though if you are truly interested, I will tell you. His reaction was much the same as it was to any time I succeeded in anything. While the other fathers and uncles and guardians crowed and exulted over their sons and wards achieving their next ranks, my father kept ever silent, with not a word of praise to be said. Entirely gone was his long-ago enthusiasm about me managing to ward him off with my toy sword. I do not know what became of that enthusiasm. I do not care. He hated me now, hated everything I represented--everything he had hoped to achieve, yet had not. Everything he had hoped to keep me from achieving, yet had failed to do. I suppose I remind him of every failure he has ever experienced in his entire life. Pity, that the one thing that could bring him honor outside of him achieving his own success was the one thing that he hated so much.

When I became lieutenant elite he arrived at the barracks gates and demanded admittance. Fa'rukha denied it, and would have sent a couple of the more burly trainees out to be rid of him--I know my father would have been doubly humiliated to be dragged off by mere trainees! Yet I stopped him from doing so and stated that I would go out and speak with my father on my own. I could sense Fa'rukha's tension and disagreement in the perplexed look he gave me, but after a moment he stepped back. When I walked to the gate all he said was, "Be careful." In those two words I heard a trace of fear, and that puzzled me, as he was not in the least bit afraid of my father. That was when I understood he was afraid for me.

I waved at him and continued on my way out. The two big trainees retreated back into the barracks area, leaving my father outside on his own. He gave me a venomous look as I approached and saluted--that just made him look uglier, that gesture of respect from someone he knew no longer respected him in the least. Fa'rukha, and those who know that my father whipped me yet do not know the rest of the story, have always wondered why I continue to show him respect after what he did. This is why; because I know it is the worst salt ever that I can rub in his wounded pride.

He waited until we stood directly in front of each other, then laid into me. "I cannot believe you have done this!" he hissed so the others could not hear. "That you would turn your back upon me, forget about me, so easily! All that I have done for you your entire life! Wasted! You live in the barracks now! How I am expected to pay for this atrocious upkeep--"

"With respect, Lord," I said (although as I explained no respect was intended), "Lieutenant Fa'rukha has been training me gratis, and you will not ever have to pay a single ring for my upkeep."

"And this is only because you are busy sucking his balls at night!" My father's wings flared and he clenched his fists. "Do not try to trick me! I understand fully how this works--I will be hit with the bill as soon as you are gone for good! With that CUR of yours! What have you been planning to do, leave the tribe with him--? Else your pathetic howling and whining as he sticks you will wake the general himself! There is a price to everything, especially to your so-called training!"

I do not know what, if anything, I planned to say in response to such silly prattle, yet I had no chance to. Even as he spoke he reached toward his belt and pulled something loose, and I arched a brow when I saw that it was the whip he had used on me so often. By then my back had fully healed, of course, yet the scars were still fresh and sore, and seeing the whip brought out a twinge of pain in my back. Yet at the same time I could not help but feel a twinge of pleasure as well on seeing such a familiar instrument and remembering how it had been used. If my father had ever been good with one thing in his life, it was with that whip. And that probably only because he was not so good with his other weapon of choice.

My mouth must have twitched in amusement, for he bared his teeth at me and gripped the whip handle--the same handle he had even stuck inside me a few times--and bristled.

"You think you will receive your training for free!" he snarled. "I will show you that EVERYTHING has a price!"

And with this, he came straight at me, screaming and lifting the whip, though it was an utterly ridiculous move, what with my lieutenant and the rest of the barracks standing not far behind me, and numerous other Kana wandering the street all around us--he would have had the chance to strike me once, perhaps twice, before any number of them would have been upon him in a snap. Yet he didn't get in even one blow, before my fingers wrapped around his wrist and twisted his arm down and around--the whip fell from his limp fingers and smacked harmlessly against the ground as I twisted my father's arm behind his back, reducing his enraged scream to a pained whimper. I scooped the whip up and put my arm around his neck in a near-chokehold, pressing the handle against his cheek as if it were a dagger blade. I had never noticed it before now--yet I was just slightly taller than he was, now that I was at last standing upright and he was bent at an uncomfortable angle--and I also noticed the eyes of everyone else in sight upon us. Fa'rukha's, not least of all, were as wide as saucers. That was the one time he doubted I would be able to hold my own--he knows better now.

I put my head close to my father's and murmured in his ear. To this day, Fa'rukha still pesters me to learn what I said to him, and I only smile and shrug it off. What I said was meant for my father only; perhaps I will let Fa'rukha know, someday, what I said, but for now I will keep it between you and myself, and you only because I know you will repeat this tale to no one. I tilted my head until I could see my father's eyes--large and wet and full of fear--and hear the slight choking noises he was letting out. His entire body shook.

"You taught me already that everything has a price," I murmured to him. "I've already paid mine...how about you?"

And with that, I let him go.

He stumbled away from me, choking and gasping and rubbing at his throat. He turned around to face me, his eyes still wide with disbelief. I tossed the whip at him and he actually cringed back from it as if expecting it to hurt him, yet it merely landed at his feet. He didn't even look at it. His eyes stayed fixed straight on mine. Here I spoke up for the benefit of those still waiting at the barracks gate.

"If you come back for me," I said, "then I can easily fight you off. An elite bests a third class. If you'll now allow me to continue training...Lord."

And I saluted, and bowed my head, and returned to the barracks, leaving him standing outside in the dirty rutted street with the whip lying at his feet.

And do you know what? I still fight more skillfully than any other lieutenant and captain of the tribe...and I sleep very soundly these days.

END


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