back and shoulder muscles, I felt all the tension drain out of my body and a delicious, warm, comfortable lethargy replaced it.

He moved down to the end of the couch, and was working on the bottom of my spine, leaving the way to the door clear, but I could no more have sprung up from the couch than I could have sprouted wings. He reached for more of the unguent from the pot, and massaged it into my hips and legs, all the way down to my feet. He selected another small pot from another niche and a different, sharper scent permeated the air. He used this on my feet, and I had never felt anything like it – I felt as if I could walk a hundred miles barefoot through broken glass. He came around to the other side of the couch, and unbuckled the short sword from his waist, placing it on a shelf in the rock wall behind the couch. He reached for one of the taller jars from a niche behind him, and poured some sort of oil out onto my back, which he began to rub into my skin. At first it burned a little, but then it cooled leaving my skin vibrantly tingling wherever it touched.

He spoke again, his voice a deep bass rumble. “You are not as strong as your brother, but still well-made.”

At that, all the sense of well-being and languor that the massage had induced dissipated in an instant. My arms grasped the edge of the couch, ready again to spring and run, but I had to know – “What do you mean about my brother?”

He placed his large, rough, callused hands gently on my back again and said, “All is known, Sir, and your petition is granted. No harm will come to your brother – or to yourself. Have no fear.” With that, he continued to rub down my back, across my butt cheeks, and down my thighs and calves.

I thought, “OK, I must be dreaming. I passed out somewhere from the water vapors and the fog, and they’re probably trying to bring me around now, and all I have to do is wake up and everything will be fine.” The realization that I was dreaming all this allowed me the luxury of going along with it, and enjoying the most relaxing massage I had ever received – not to mention the most sensual, delivered by one of the sexiest men I had ever seen. In fact, I was embarrassed to find that I had a serious woody sprouting underneath me.

At that very moment, he rumbled “Please turn over, Sir, so that I may complete the massage.” I was reluctant to show myself, but he had already taken hold of my ankles and begun to turn me, one strong, massive hand gripping both ankles and one hand lifting my hip. I turned over almost involuntarily, with a flagpole sprouting from my groin, tall and rigid as a cedar.

He stood over me at the foot of the couch and chuckled. “Well, at least you share something with your