Quiet and Deep
Quiet and Deep
Disclaimer: Depictions of M/M sexual activity are included in this work of fiction. If this is objectionable to you, or illegal in your area, stop reading now.
Nota Bene: 1) Slavery was very common in ancient Greece, and it is often thought that the slaves outnumbered the free men. It was a much more casual relationship than in more modern times. 2) In the manner of Shakespeare, this story's dialog is written in iambic pentameter, meant to flow in a lyrical manner. Five pairs of syllables, an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable each time. Because YiffStar deemed this not long enough, a final scene in open trochaic meter was added. 3) They didn't wear togas, they wore chlamys [klam-is]! 4) Waterfoul, such as swans, have what amounts to a penis. Combine that with the swan's beauty and soft down, and we have a perfect match for this story.
Setting: Sunset. The tigers of Corinth were gathered around the town's central fountain, talking to each other over the hustle and bustle of passing messengers and children at play. These were the upper class of Greek society, sons of some of the wealthiest merchants in the world. They proudly wore nothing but their chlamys in the hot summer sun, the scanty mantle leaving the entire right side of their bodies exposed. Their slaves were a menagerie of every species to walk the earth, from human to 'taur and everything in between. As a matter of practicality and station, they wore loincloths or nothing at all.
The felines and their slaves amidst the crowd,
were drinking tepid water from the fount.
The masters talked and joked and laughed aloud,
while slaves avoided carts and passing mounts.
Tyrone, the alpha male of all these cats,
was standing quietly among his clan.
Their voices in his ears; they buzzed like gnats.
His mind and eyes were focused on his man.
A creature all in white, his beauty keen.
The quiet swan with downcast eyes: Ali.
A brownish loincloth hung from downy hips,
Impairing what the master wished to see.
"I think we've lost him gentlemen," one joked.
Another nudged his side with digit stretched.
"I do not think that's what our friend wants poked!"
They laughed as guilt upon his face was etched.
"The day's been long, and so I leave anon."
The tigers groaned and even rolled their eyes.
"Tyrone, we know you want to snap his thong,
and bare to you his silken rear and thighs!"
Ali could only shiver in his place.
He dare not move or even raise his head.
This picturesque young slave so filled with grace,
Embarrassed at the thought of being bred.
The laughter of these feline friends died down.
And one by one they bid each other well.
Tyrone thus led his vassal through the town.
Positioned at his front to hide his swell.
The private baths were quiet in the eve.
Their destination reached, they found a room.
With steaming water ready to relieve,
Their muscles; and their oder with perfume.
But twas not that relief the tiger sought.
So quickly did his chlamys find the floor.
And Ali's loincloth in his claws was caught,
Then torn: a cygnine body to explore.
Before him stood a swan, in shame and lust.
Those tiny feathers softer than the breeze.
His pert behind was tensed beneath white tail.
A perfect rear, the feline to appease.
That member stood erect against his front.
Below, a snowy sac encased in down.
Such trembling legs but they would bear the brunt,
Of both their weights; else mounted, he would drown.
Without a word, his slave did step inside,
The knee-high pool and o'er the edge did bend.
His slender hips were angled well to ride.
Upon display he left his tight rear-end.
A growl erupted from the master's throat.
At such a display from his wanton whore.
Tyrone procured the bottle cast afloat,
And olive oil upon his cock did pour.
Under white tail the tiger pressed his spire.
Pink shaft that throbbed making his bird moan soft.
His feline paw, it found Ali's hard fire.
He stroked his lover, holding him aloft.
When winking hole was covered in slick grease,
The tiger rolled his hips and thrusted in.
A ragged moan and all discomfort ceased.
As trembling ass embraced hot, veiny skin.
His seven inches quickly disappeared.
Ali within his master's grasp did leak.
Submissively both mounted and well speared,
The feathered slave bent to his lord's physique.
In quiet passion tiger took his love.
His hips did drive the hard arousal home.
With eager ardor, feline took the dove,
And through fine feathered hip his claws did roam.
Ali cried out, unable to hold back.
His well rubbed member spat a salty seed.
The sound aroused his master's churning sac,
The tailhole milked and teased the tiger's need.
A chuff, a thrust, and rubbing balls to down.
Tyrone pushed right into his lover's rear.
And with a growl, cum poured from his cock's crown.
To mark as his the swan he held so dear.
The lovers sank into the water pooled.
They stroked each other for another hour;
Released twice more before the water cooled,
And then the slave sucked clean his master's tower.
When tiger carried home his tired slave,
The swan did wrap his arms around his waist.
And so entwined, they managed to behave...
Until the swan was once again debased:
Setting: Late eve. The tiger-lord's torch-lit room is wonderful by the standards of ancient Greece; with tapestries, copper candlesticks, and a large woven mat covered in lush fur. Though exhausted, Tyrone lays his slave and lover down. Ali makes eyes at his lord and master, and beckons him down to a feathery embrace. This proximity leads the dominant tiger's paws to roam over the body of his helpless little swan. His body slides lower and lower, brushing through those soft white feathers and making the lovely bird squirm with delight.
Laid upon the mat, Ali was hard again because Tyrone was teasing. Fingers made their way up cygnine thighs, to find a velvet ballsac. Lightly squeezed, Ali did moan and spread his legs to sweet attentions. Rolling shoulders, gasping, precum dripping from his manhood, horny swan was drawn to dancing digits, like an addict.
Laughing, master looked upon his wanton slave and raised a paw to slap the swan's rear-end, which drew a whimper. Even though the swan's transparent lust was funny at some level, still the tiger felt that he had earned a little reward. Hiking backs of feathered knees to feline shoulders, spreading them in such a way so as to crawl between those yearning asscheeks, throbbing penis touched Ali's soft feathered anal passage.
Moaning loudly, tossing head from side to side, the swan did concentrate on bearing down so tiger dick could slide in freely. Inch by inch his master entered him, with tender loving care, so slowly. Knowing neither one would last too long, he sought permission with his eyes to touch himself as eager feline fucked him.
Knowing what Ali was after, master sanctioned this with just some silent nodding. As the swan began to jerk his swollen rod, Tyrone did pump his hips with vigor. Aching rod slid in and out of writhing bird from root to tip, and drove them both beyond the point of reason. Fucking passionately into wailing swan, his fuzzy balls both swung and slapped against that sexy upturned ass-end.
Nothing stops a rutting tiger short of Armageddon. Hips that drove with lust and blurred with speed did shake the poor Ali until he whimpered. Shaking hard, the swan enfolded hands around his penis. Letting rocking thrusts propel his stiffness through his grip, the slave abandoned all control of their amazing fucking.
T'wasn't long before the pair of lovers found their pleasure. Growling loudly, deep within that twitching tailhole, master's shaft erupted; filling frenzied fowl with salty semen. Snorting, snarling, teeth on display, tiger balls did empty. Digits dancing over swollen cock, the bird just took some extra time to listen. Sounds of growling tiger filled the air as slave-come-lover lie beneath in rapture. One more stroke o'er straining dick, and sticky seed was spraying over belly feathers. So, Ali's own moans did join the roar of lord and master. Thus they drifted off to sleep together, bodies stuck to one another.