Take Me Home

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Part 23

The sky was dark or was it the chamber? Why hasn’t Tassos lit the oil lamp? Has that boy gone off to flirt with the palace slave girls that he forgot his chores?

Paris attempted to get out of bed and find Tassos, but he wasn’t able to. Strangely, his entire body felt so weak that he could scarcely lift a finger. Even his eye lids were heavy as if someone had attached weights on them. He worried that he might have come down with some kind of unknown diseases.

He tried to pry open his eyes anyway and managed a slit. He saw shifting shadows in front of him and his body was jostled about, although he was not sure. What was going on? A throbbing pain somewhere at the back of his head made him suspect something was afoul, but his mind just wanted to sleep so he lost his concentration.

A dark silhouette had loomed over him and pulled his jaw down. Something cool touched his lips and then something terribly bitter burst in his tongue. Paris tried to spit out the horrid stuff, but he couldn’t; his jaw was closed again and a clammy palm pressed over his mouth.

He struggled to figure out what was going on. Unfortunately, his groggy mind refused to release him from its endless floating abyss. Soon, he thought he floated again and the darkness caved in.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Something underneath him was moving. He frowned. Where was he? He swam closer to the line between consciousnesses.

Here, he found himself rocking side to side as if someone had placed him in a cradle. Cradle? On the background were the sound of woods creaking and breaking waves. He even thought he heard rapid clicks of dolphins. Dolphins?

Paris snapped open his eyes, but closed them immediately – the sun was directly overhead and its bright flares hurt his eyes. He shaded his sight with his right arm.

Rolling his head to the side, he discovered he was staring at a wooden deck. There were several pairs of dirty feet standing nearby, but he couldn’t see the persons unless he sat up. When he did, he was bombarded by a splitting headache. The pain originated where someone had whack his head with the blunt hilt of a dagger.

He recalled that he was awoken suddenly by three men bursting into his bedchamber. Two of them were holding a guard each in his arms and the men appeared to be already dead because their heads lolled about in odd angles. Was the palace under attack? The guards were dropped to the floor unceremoniously and they came for him. Paris shouted for help, but the intruders quickly subdued him. They held him down and one took out a dagger and hit his head, rendering him unconscious.


“Looks like our Prince of Troy are finally awake from his beauty sleep,” a familiar voice spoke out sarcastically.

Paris stiffened.

No! He could not possibly be stuck on a ship with the man he feared the most. Has the ship sailed out into the sea? If not, he might still be able to save himself by swimming back to shore (if he had not drowned himself yet).

In reflex, Paris tried to shift away as far as he could, but something sharp was pulling his ankle. He looked and realized that he was immobilized by a strong chain around his left ankle. He gave it another tug, to see if he could extract some more length; it didn’t give.

Neoptolemus approached and knelt beside the terrified Paris. Despair gripped the youth by the back of his neck. Where was Achilles when he needed him? The prince had promised that he would protect him.

“You’re chained to this ship,” Neoptolemus said and tapped a finger on the chain, rattling it. “If it goes down, you will go with it.”

“Where are you taking me?” Paris asked bravely although there was a hint of quaver in his voice. The very idea of going down with the ship into the black unknown made him shudder.

“To take you home, of course. Don’t you want to see Troy again?” Neoptolemus looked surprised, as if his intention was quite obvious.

The Trojan youth studied his adversary and kidnapper with caution. Neoptolemus had tied back his hair in a pony tail, giving him an even younger image, but his cruel face became more pronounced this way. Despite the genuine demeanour Neoptolemus was putting on, Paris didn’t trust him. His penetrating grey eyes, resembling very much to Achilles, were hard and unfeeling. If those same eyes would have been more gentle in gaze, he would have given Neoptolemus the benefit of the doubt.

What was this man scheming?

Aware that Paris was dubious about him, Neoptolemus chuckled and ruffled the youth’s hair good-naturedly. Paris flinched, unable to withstand his touches.

“You will return to your homeland, one way or the other,” Neoptolemus promised with a twinkle in his eye.

That tone did not sound promising to Paris. One way or the other?

“Why are we really going to Troy?”

Neoptolemus chuckled again, as if amused by the inquisitiveness. Was Paris that shallow-minded?

“Paris, Paris. What does my old man see in you besides your pretty face?” Neoptolemus cocked his head to one side to regard the youth in front of him. He had only done that to mock Paris. “Ah yes, your tight chasm and pretty screams.”

Someone at the back laughed aloud, but everyone else was quiet – listening intently to their conversation that was becoming more interesting. Paris squirmed uncomfortably as he became aware that all eyes were on him.

A minute later, the blond young man rose to his feet and walked away, pretending that he never had a conversation with Paris. He went to join his other fellow warriors who were busy oiling and sharpening their weapons.

Paris noticed that the men were taking meaningful glances at him as they leaned closer to Neoptolemus and spoke conspiratorially about something that wasn’t difficult to guess – him. Conscious of that, he turned his back on them and tried to ignore the others.

At noon time, the men took a break with lunch. While some congregated in small groups, others sat alone on the mid-ship fence. The slaves on board were mainly oarsman on the lower deck so they remained in their assigned thwarts; their right ankles were chained to their leg rest. Everyone was eating except Paris.

The hunger-stricken young man watched glumly as the men ate the roasted fish caught from the sea. His stomach growled by the smell of food wafted into his nose and he cursed under his breath as it got louder. Most of the men ignored him, especially Neoptolemus who saw him as an invisible being and the other slaves lowered their heads to avoid eye contact.

After meal, anyone not on watch-duty took their naps under the shades from stretched oilskin canopy.

The sun was beating down harshly at this time of day, so bright and hot. Already he felt the burns on his skin. Being shackled to the middle of the deck with no shades, Paris had any choice, but to suffer the full brunt of the sun god’s wrath. It was merciless.

Thirsty and feverish, Paris couldn’t help panting. He was already miserable with lethargy and dizziness as the heat went to his head. When it got too much, Paris searched around futilely for any shadows within reach – none, not even the tiniest spot.

In the mountains where he was growing up, the heat was not so brutal for the lust greens provided much protection. Back home in Troy, he spent many hours indoors or cooling off in a river nearby the city. Even if he practiced archery or sword-fighting, he didn’t have to be sun-baked for hours like this.

Left with no alternative, he lay down and curled on his side, hiding as much as he could his face. It wasn’t easy though because the wooden deck under him was sizzling hot to the touch. It was awful for Paris as he turned this way and that to even out his slow ‘roasting’.

Just to sweeten the torture, Neoptolemus instructed the slaves to pour cold sea water on either side of the deck to cool the planking, but out of reach from Paris. If the youth had the energy, he would spare a glare at his nemesis, but at this moment, all he could do was stare at the wet floor with longings. His tongue was already sticking out and he was panting.

By the time the sun was less harsh, Paris’ skin was glowing red and tender to the touch. Any part of him that had been exposed to the elements hurt awfully.

Unexpectedly, a water skin landed beside him. Neoptolemus had given him. The youth grabbed it hurriedly before the young prince changed his mind. Without thought, he drank to his heart content and doused the rest on his head. It felt good at first, but he quickly became violently sick. He threw up on the deck. He was even more miserable and sick than before.

This angered the young Greek prince. He didn’t like anyone dirtying his ship. The slaves were immediately sent to clean up the mess.

“This water WAS your ration for two days. You will not get any tomorrow,” Neoptolemus said.

Paris watched in despair at the man. He still felt awful inside and feverish so he crawled to lie on top of the wet spot where the slaves had just cleaned. The cool surface gave him a little relief.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Achilles!” Eudoras called out as soon as he saw the man.

The Commander of the Myrmidons was busy briefing his men of a possibility of bloodshed. He announced to them grimly the truth of the situation and requested only for volunteers to join him. However, he was very proud and deeply touched when all of them stepped forward without hesitation – their loyalty lay with Achilles alone.

“We couldn’t find Neoptolemus, but I have an idea where he might be. I received news that two ships were heading out of the bay. They were reported to be equipped for a full battle. I ran to see and I saw Neoptolemus’ ship leading.”

Achilles’ face was a mask of rage.

“Get the men prepared. We are sailing out immediately,” Achilles ordered and then made a dash towards the palace.

“Master Achilles! Master Achilles, please let me come with you,” Tassos pleaded as he ran to catch up with the man. He had been following his master everywhere, all day.

Without both his masters in Phthia, he wouldn’t know what to do. The worst fear in him was that neither of them would ever come back.

Achilles was about to turn him down when Tassos interjected.

“I can take care of Master Paris after you saved him. You cannot be distracted from your … task,” he said meaningfully. He knew very well Achilles’ intention in this confrontation.

There was much truth in the boy’s words. He needed someone he trusted to see to Paris as he would be solely focused to take his son’s head down. He had underestimated this seemingly ignorant slave boy.

“All right,” he consented finally. “You know, however, that this may be the last time you see Phthia?” Tassos nodded without hesitation.


The palace was relatively calm and the slaves were about their business as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Probably they had realized by now that they were not under attack. It wasn’t difficult for Achilles to locate the king as the man had just came back from the women’s wing to make sure that enough guards were posted to protect them.

He stopped the older man in the middle of the hallway. “Father, where have you sent Neoptolemus?” he sounded urgent. He had also dispensed with the proper protocol of seeking audience first with the king.

“To Troy. Why do you ask? Has something happened?” Peleus was equally worried now by this question.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to send him there?”

“He came to me two days ago and told me that he and his men would take your place instead, to honour our pledge of allegiance to Agamemnon years ago. And just this morning you said that I should even send him there. I though you were serious so I said nothing further.”

“He has Paris with him!” Achilles’ growled and paced in front of the king in agitation.

Complete shock showed on Peleus’ face. Neoptolemus was taking a lot of trouble and stupid risks to strain his already bad disposition with his father. This put the old man in a difficult position also for now he was torn between worry and anger for both his princes. When he saw the look on his son’s eyes – filled with torment and murderous – Peleus understood that there was no saving his grandson this time; Achilles would kill him.

“Is there no way we can avoid killing in this House?” Achilles stopped in mid-stride and shot the king an uncompromising look.

Peleus immediately back down. Indeed as the gods had predicted that Achilles would be a greater man than he. He felt so foolish standing there.

Age was a horrible punishment for a man used to being a champion for his people. In his declining years, it made him consume with anger as he gradually lose the ability to save the ones he loved the most. This made him feel useless. If only he had the strength left to sail out and fight alongside Agamemnon instead of hiding here in his cozy palace. He didn’t want any of his children to die while fighting to keep their pride. What was worse, was that even as a king, his power was not effective against the will of the gods and his words change nothing in his dearest son’s angry heart.

“When are you leaving?” Peleus spoke sadly. He was miserable – he was going to lose two good sons.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The awe-inspiring red sun was just peeking from behind the dark water horizon, sending splashes of rays through the broken clouds. It promised good weather and cooler day.

With nothing much to do for now, the occupants of the ship began to stir awake gradually. Paris was still deeply asleep for he was weak without food in his stomach. He was curled tightly on his side, to keep warm in the cold night. Sometimes he whimpered when nightmares plagued him.

Neoptolemus had gone straight to check on Paris after he washed his face. He had been thinking all night for more ways to make Paris’ life miserable and with the start of a new day, he got very excited.

Upon gazing on the sweet young face of Paris in his slumber, the blond young man sneered smugly as a better idea hit him.

“Tie him to the prow!” Neoptolemus ordered and stood back, hooking his hands on his hips.

The prince’s sharp tone woke Paris up. He looked at the man groggily and rubbed his eyes.

Two of the soldiers standing nearby immediately came forward to do his bidding. When one had crouched down to release the shackle around Paris’ ankle, the other fetched some ropes hanging on the bitt. Then they marched the confused youth to the front of the ship.

This magnificently sleek war ship was two tiered and the prow was a beautifully carved bust of Artemis – her sharp blue eyes looking forward in search of preys to hunt. The ship was a gift to Neoptolemus by his grandfather when he celebrated his coming-of-age three years ago.

Unnerving was quite an understatement for Paris as he was made to stand right at the very tip of the bow where he had become the center of an unwilling attention of the entire crew. The only consolation was that at least he was not facing their dreadful stares when he was instructed to wrap himself on the wooden structure. His wrists were tied securely to the rope that was circled around the neck of the bust.

It was plain to see that every man admired that long lithe body. From the way the few mouths were hanging agape and some drool dribbling down the bearded chins, those admirations didn’t seem to spring from pure thoughts. His thin tunic, the bottom hem riding higher over his thighs and nearly exposing the rounded globes, had stretched taut over his body, accentuating further every contours and shape. It concealed nothing and only added more to the wild imaginations. Paris was the perfect erastes that any older man would dream about.

Fully exposed in the most vulnerable manner, Paris was highly conscious of his body and his new predicament. The cold air blasting against him had seemed pale in comparison to the trouble he might soon face.

A few men had boldly whistled leeringly while some of the slaves on the lower deck shifted uneasily. These were the ones who had suffered some form of sexual abuse before they became row man; so they understood Paris’ growing unease very well.

Getting slightly aroused himself, Neoptolemus wanted to encourage further indulgence. He wanted to have a pleasing sight he could stare at while reliving himself and at the same time, make the youth suffer more heat stroke with his naked body fully exposed. He looked at some of the men around him and smiled when noticing the bulges between their legs were growing bigger. Even his quietly and strong-willed friend, Pynder, couldn’t escape from Paris’ mesmerizing spell.

He went up to Paris and ripped his tunic away. There was a stunned uproar from everyone; he was just as shocked.

While everyone was deeply drawn to staring at the welts and scars, no one saw the horrified expression on Paris’ face.

“Paris! I am shocked. I didn’t know you like this kind of play,” Neoptolemus remarked. He noticed the muscles around the shoulder blades tensed. Why had Achilles whipped this boy?

He traced a cold finger along the horizontal lines. It felt strange – a combination of smooth skin and raised welts – and fascinating at the same time. He had many times whipped a slave as punishments, but never actually bothered to see what happened to them afterwards. This was the first time he had taken an interest.

Paris quivered a little and goose bumps covered his whole arms when he felt the gentle probe. He pressed himself further against the prow. The heat on the surface of the wood was uncomfortable on his naked cock, but he just wanted to get away from his molester.

Neoptolemus saw that Paris had flexed the cheek muscles of his buttocks and that encouraged him to give the youth two sound slaps. Paris yelped in surprise.

“Are you encouraging me here?” Neoptolemus spoke huskily near Paris right ear causing the youth to jerk away as if burnt.

“No,” Paris denied whole-heartedly. “I don’t like you near me.”

“But you are making me very aroused,” the prince pushed his bulge against the cleft of his victim’s ass. “See?”

Paris tried to move away. Two experiences of sexual assaults had taught him that he wouldn’t be able to escape from this one either. He trembled in fear – Neoptolemus was going to rape him in front of everyone!

“You’re going to finish off what you started,” Neoptolemus stated and pushed Paris’ legs together.

“No! Please, no!” Paris cried out in panic and struggled. The young slaves below deck squeezed their eyes shut so they wouldn’t see what happened next and two of them even pressed the palms of their hands over their ears to block the screams that they knew were coming.

As he braced himself for the painful breach, he yelped aloud when Neoptolemus slipped his exposed cock in the hole made between the legs and cleft and started to pump himself in and out. He was in such hurried need that he achieved completion in a short time, leaving his essence to drip down the gracefully long legs.

He tucked his spent member back inside his loin cloth. “You will make a nice distraction for the men,” Neoptolemus teased and gave a few playful slaps on his buttocks before striding off. “No food and water for him for today,” he called out over his back.

The poor youth had trembled so much from fear. He was lucky this time. Feeling drained, he slumped in defeat and rested his sweaty forehead against the wood. The feeling of sticky wetness dribbling down his legs disgusted him, but there was really nothing he could do except wait. Looking at the sky, he saw that there were thick clouds ahead. Paris counted his blessings that at least he wouldn’t be cooked under the sun for long today.


NOTE: Sorry for the lack of quality here. I’m a bit distracted right now. ^_^

Also, I would like to thank everyone for their reviews. I'm a happy bouncing bunny here. Heheheh....