Day 9
I lay on my stomach, my chin on the backs of my hands. Runner, about fifty feet in front of me, crawled a little closer to the cabin nearby. The rare blue sky above did nothing to lighten my mood. I couldn't shake the black cloud hovering over me that owed nothing to local weather phenomena.
I was conscious of the discomfort from lying on the vines wrapped around my waist. Mostly my hanging vine. I hadn't practiced hanging since meeting Runner. I wasn't sure why I couldn't make myself do it. Why did my mind shy away from even thinking about it?
The morning after that first night with Runner, I had awakened with a feeling of determination. I have help now, I told myself. Yesterday Runner was resisting the idea of crossing the mountains, but I know I can talk him into it.
I tried. But as my coaxing turned into pleading, it provoked... not our first disagreement, since we'd been over this same subject before, but the first one that rose to the level of a fight. Runner refused to believe in my description of the land across the mountains. He pointed out that I'd already admitted I'd never been there, nor so much as seen it. Both of us became more upset by the minute. Runner at last waved his arms, as if symbolically pushing the subject away, and had told me that he didn't want to talk about it anymore. That he didn't want to stay with me if I kept wanting him to fall over the end of the world.
I sucked in a quick breath and shut my mouth, my heart pounding as hard as when I met the dogboys. I was terrified at the thought of Runner leaving me.
I'd intended to practice hanging immediately after breakfast, and for the first time encountered that internal resistance to the idea. Meanwhile, Runner had immediately proposed a raid on the nearest cabin. I was eager to seem agreeable and restore our relationship to a friendly level, so I went along, and followed Runner as near yesterday's farm as I dared. I waited until Runner returned with several strips of jerky and a vest for me. I thanked him very much but explained why I couldn't wear it. Runner looked disappointed, and suggested I could use it for cover when the hard rain returned. I hadn't thought of that, and I thanked him again and hugged him.
Over the next two days I looked for an opening that would let me talk about a mountain crossing again. I couldn't open up the subject myself, but I was hoping that circumstances would lead a conversation in that direction. But there was a monotonous regularity to the days that frustrated my hopes. Each day Runner would raid a farm while I waited behind. Then we would escape, walk on toward another farm, rest, eat, and not much else. We were friends again, but conversations tended to lag. Runner had no knowledge of any wider world, and no curiosity about my life if it involved anything beyond the island. I waited for just the right time to suggest a foray beyond the mountains without making Runner mad again, but the opportunity never came. Runner seemed patient with my slow progress as we traveled, but I could read his irritation at having to move slowly enough for me to keep up.
My mood went steadily downhill. By the end of each day, I needed the comfort of our nighttime sleeping position. There was a softness and warmth to it that allowed me to blank out my thoughts and simply feel.
But then day would return, and with it, a growing certainty that I would never leave the island. The Academy was gone from my life. My friends, all of the people I loved, were gone from my life. And my dream of a wonderful hanging, one just like Marshall's hanging. It was gone.
Lying on the ground now, my third full day with Runner, my — I had to stop and think... my ninth on the island — the feeling of being trapped rolled over me. I was trapped, I knew it. I couldn't get home by myself. I needed Runner's help. And Runner wouldn't help.
I suspected Runner would not carry out his threat to leave, but I couldn't be sure. We both needed each other, in different ways. Runner's need for me was purely emotional. He had been so terribly lonely, trying to survive by himself without the young males he had grown up with and loved. I knew exactly how Runner felt, but my need had something extra. Without Runner to masquerade as my owner, I would inevitably be caught. I nearly had been before. I would eventually stumble into a farm and be spotted by dogboys again, and it would be all over.
I didn't dare leave Runner, and that was the nature of the trap. Runner was tied to the wrong side of the island, and held me there in exactly the same way one of the mechanical traps would.
Tears began streaming from my eyes. My shoulders heaved, and I had to struggle to keep my anguish silent, so close to the farmers' cabin.
I had cried myself out by the time Runner returned. He had a delighted grin, and signaled for me to follow him away from the farm. I followed listlessly.
At a safe distance, Runner turned to reveal his treasure: a large slab of cooked meat — not jerky, a real preysteak. My spirits rose at the sight of it. I looked around nervously, and suggested we continue on, to put a greater distance between us and the farm.
After another twenty or so minutes, we stopped in a small grove of nut trees, beside a flowing stream. As always, I swept my hands along the muddy ground, feeling for traps, then I sat with a sigh.
I spread my leather vest, and Runner set the steak down on the vest, reaching into his bag to retrieve a knife, obviously the booty from an earlier raid. I watched as Runner cut the steak into two equal pieces, and gave one to me.
I bit into the meat while Runner was shrugging out of his clothes — Runner usually stripped at the first opportunity.
The steak tasted wonderful, if a bit salty. Obviously the farmers made use of nature's original preservative, readily available from the ocean.
Runner sat down and started eating. "I don't get very many big pieces like this. Mostly just that little tough stuff."
"It was just sitting out there?"
"It was in... I don't know a word for it." He looked at me hopefully, no doubt eager for some more "teachering."
I put the meat down. This can't last. Runner's going to get tired of doing everything for me, without me doing anything in return — I can't go on a raid, I can't even get close enough to a farm to serve as a lookout — and he's going to get tired of waiting for me while I plod along behind him.
Suddenly the tears came back. I felt the loss of my world more strongly than ever. I buried my face against my knees, sobbing.
I was aware of Runner suddenly in front of me, cooing softly, wordlessly, gently rubbing my knees, then pulling them apart. He knelt between my legs, and pulled my head gently toward his chest.
I opened my mouth and kissed Runner's nipple. He's treating me like one of the babies, I told myself. I guess I am like a baby. I'm that helpless, and that useless. And it does feel nice, just letting him comfort me with warmth and softness.
I pushed myself away, suddenly. It was as though a dam had just broken in my mind, long-withheld thoughts flooding through. A stern inner voice told me, Wynn, you are not a baby. You are a Hanging Boy. You are one of the best Hanging Boys. You are the Hanging Boy the rest of the Hanging Boys look to for advice. For encouragement. For help. Wynn, it's time to be who you are!
Runner was trying to draw me back to his chest. I pushed him away, shaking my head. "I don't need that. Runner... I want to show you something."
I palmed the tears out of my eyes and stood up. I started untying the braided coil of vines around my waist.
Runner looked up at me, worried. "Wynn, you need that to stay out of traps."
"I'll leave that part on. I need this part, I really need it, but not for that."
I looked around for a fallen log in the right place... there, there's one. I walked as quickly as I could in my tiny steps over to it.
"Wynn? What are you doing?"
The rain had diminished to a heavy mist. I was glad there would be no rain distracting me for this, my first performance for an audience in — it seemed to be forever. I quickly tied the hangman's knot, throwing the other end of the vine over an overhead branch. I stepped up onto the log and tied the vine to the branch. "Runner, you were right about me being a teacher, but that's only part of it. I want to show you what I do."
"What you do when?"
"I mean, this is my place. I'm going to show you what my place is. This is something I spent a long time learning to do. To make people happy. To make them excited. To make them horny." I wasn't sure Runner understood the last adjective, and maybe the one before it, but he surely knew what the first one meant. And, I thought, he's about to figure the others out. I pulled the noose down over my head, around my neck, adjusting it.
"Wynn, I don't get it."
Runner started to walk toward me, but I held up my hand, and smiled. "Just watch. Don't do anything else. Don't come here and try to help me or anything like that. Only watch."
Beneath my excitement, I was angry with myself. I knew, now, why I hadn't hanged myself in front of Runner. Everything about my world was so alien to Runner, and I'd been afraid Runner wouldn't understand, wouldn't see the performance as being sexual. That he wouldn't see any sense in it at all. That would hurt at the very core of my being — it would be a rejection of me as a Hanging Boy. The fear of that rejection, though barely conscious, had been controlling me for days. I berated myself furiously — Wynn, you were so worried about that rejection, you rejected yourself as a Hanging Boy.
I am what I am. If Runner doesn't understand it, fine. But I'm going to show him what I am.
I closed my eyes and took a moment to settle my breathing. I clasped my right hand firmly around my left wrist and stepped off the log.
A glorious feeling of release bubbled up within me, stronger than I had ever felt it. I barely even had a sense of the vine around my neck. It felt more as if I were flying, gliding on air currents above the clouds. Automatically I began cycling through my practice regimen.
Then I remembered I had an audience. Runner is very focused on the nipples. Probably all of the slaves from the pens are. That may be a primary area of sex play, or at least a very common one.
I concentrated more than the usual amount of attention on my chest, timing the flexing of my shoulder muscles to ripple my pecs. I performed the hip thrusts automatically but downplayed them slightly. Runner might not be that familiar with male sexual techniques, though he might have seen farmers and their slaveboys together since his escape. Instead, I worked more on hip rotation, presenting my cock as if to be sucked.
I hadn't been watching Runner at first, but now I kept an eye on him when I could. Runner was standing and staring, one hand touching his cock, the other on his right nipple. I began using Runner's reactions as a gauge for which motions I should emphasize.
I started to get tired after about fifteen minutes. I could, perhaps, have gone on another ten, but there was no reason. I reached up, took hold of the branch to steady myself, and stepped back up onto the log.
I smiled at Runner. When Runner did not smile back, it took me a moment to notice that no other part of Runner's body was moving either. He stood as still as a statue, an unlikely one sculpted in a slight crouch, one hand between his legs and the other on his chest.
I loosened the noose, pulled it off and hopped down from the log. As I approached Runner, I was relieved to see Runner's eyes and head were tracking me. Good, at least he hasn't gone completely catatonic.
Runner suddenly unfroze, although his eyes remained wide, they were now fully focused on mine. As I reached his side, he said in a tight, breathy voice, "Wynn, I have to do that, I have to do that!" Runner burst into motion, dashing past me toward the log and overhanging noose.
I spun. "Runner, wait! It's dangerous..."
Runner was already up on the log. "I have to!"
"I was just trying to tell you that you need to wait for me!" Oh, wow, I never thought about this happening. I've created another Kelly! Or, well, another me.
I shuffled as quickly I could over to the log and Runner. "You can do it, but I have to help you, Runner. I don't want you to get hurt."
Runner nodded vigorously, holding the noose but not yet putting it over his head. "Teacher me this, Wynn."
I couldn't help smiling. "It's 'teach,' Runner. I'm a teacher, and I teach things. And what I was doing is called 'hanging.' "
Runner was still nodding. "Teach me hanging. Please?"
"Okay, okay. Just give me a little time." Keeping one eye on Runner, I looked past him to the nearby trees. Okay, there's one. I held up my hand. "We're going to do this, Runner. Just wait a little bit. Stay right there. I need to get something first."
I shuffled to the tree, picked up a rock, and used it to cut off about three feet of vine running up the trunk, remembering belatedly that there was a knife lying just ten yards away that would have made the job easier. I came back to Runner. "Put your hands behind your back, like I had mine. I just had to hold my hands there, because I didn't have anybody to do this for me. But you can be hanging the right way."
I quickly tied Runner's wrists together with the vine, then hopped up beside him on the log. I put the noose over Runner's head, adjusting it carefully. "Don't step off. Don't do anything. I'll help you. If you just jumped off it would be really dangerous. Wait for me."
Even lost in this hinterland, where it was unlikely that Runner would ever contact anyone from the mainland, I firmly reminded myself not to give away anything the Academy considered secret. But there'd be no problem with Runner getting a feel for hanging. People do it all the time, with no training at all. I put my hands firmly on Runner's hips to steady him. "Okay, just really slow... bend your knees a little... like that, now a little more. Lift your feet up..." As Runner's feet left the surface, I gave him a gentle push away from the log, to hang just in front of it.
Runner immediately started kicking — random, purely novice kicks — twisting slightly to the right. For the first few seconds he struggled wildly to get his hands loose, but then calmed down, mainly kicking. I was amazed. I'd intended to let him swing for thirty seconds, I didn't see any significant panic in Runner's movements, so I let him go another fifteen before clasping his hips again, saying softly, "Okay, stop kicking, stop, stretch your legs down..." I pulled him back. "There's the log. Stand on it now."
Runner's face was flushed and glowing with excitement as I loosened the noose, and words came tumbling out of him. "I could do it longer, Wynn. But I couldn't breathe! How did you do it so long? And I couldn't do those things you were doing. Can you teach me to do that?"
I frowned, debating in my mind how much I could tell this young male who was so desperate to learn. Then I gasped as my thoughts suddenly changed direction. This is what I needed! This is it! This is it!
I looked into Runner's eyes. "Runner, I can teach you some things, but I can't do it all by myself. It takes more than one person. We need to go to the Academy. That's where I learned to do this. There are a lot of boys who do it like me, and we all work together, we help each other, and that's how we get so good at this." I reached down to untie Runner's hands. I am, I reminded myself, telling him the absolute truth. They say the truth shall set you free.
Runner now used the vine as a handhold to steady himself. — I could see his knees were shaking. He gave me a still more intense look. "Take me there! Take me to the Academy! Please, Wynn? Take me where those other boys are." Again, Runner said the new word in my accent, not his own.
I took both of Runner's hands in mine, and looked into his eyes. "I will try, Runner. But remember, I need you to help me." I took a deep breath. He has to be reminded of this sometime, I told myself, and it might as well be now. "We have to get over the mountains. The high ground. And after that, we still have to find a way to get back to the Academy. That won't be easy."
Runner was already nodding — he was acting as if I was stating the obvious.
I felt myself floating again, this time without the benefit of the noose. Home, the Academy, was within reach again! I threw my arms around Runner and kissed him.
Runner's lips didn't move against mine. I backed away slightly, enough to see that Runner had his puzzled face on again. Runner asked, "Why did you do that?"
Nothing could dampen my mood, but I didn't want Runner to think I was laughing at him. I took a deep breath to hold back the giggles, grinned, and said, "That's a kiss, Runner. Friends kiss to show they're happy to be with each other." Reasonably accurate, I decided as I played back the explanation in my head. I felt as surprised as Runner seemed. I'd seen Runner masturbating, and felt positive Runner must have had some sexual experiences, growing up in the breeding pen. Somehow, face to face contact had dropped out of the erotic playbook over the generations of isolation. I'd read that there are cultures in which kissing is unknown. Anything, in fact, not directly related to sex might be discarded. Sexual preferences are very flexible.
Runner grinned and returned my hug. He pressed his lips against mine briefly, and said, "I like to be with you, Wynn." He suddenly turned, grabbed one of my hands, said, "We need to go to the Academy!" and leapt down from the log. He took two sprinting steps before I went sprawling headlong, tripped once more by my chain. I barely felt it. Laughing, I looked up at Runner and waved my arm at the hanging vine, Runner's bag, Runner's clothes scattered on the ground. "Let's at least gather our things together. And finish eating. Okay? We're going, but we need some stuff."
The light was fading when we arrived at where the forest ended and the mountains began. Light rain was falling. I wasn't sure whether the darkening meant the sun was going down behind the impenetrable cloud cover, or another storm was coming in, but I believed it was late afternoon. Going entire days without seeing the sun forced me to rely more heavily on internal time sense. My body was suggesting a stop for dinner, followed by a night's sleep.
The natural rock wall at the foot of the mountains was about five feet high here. Runner immediately began hoisting himself up to the higher level, until I stopped him. I sat down, gesturing to Runner to sit with me.
"Okay, here's what we have to do," I began. "We're going to see other people soon, and they're going to see us. We have to make sure we don't look... strange. You look like a young farmer, and I look like I'm your slave."
"What's a slave?"
"That's what they call the prey who serve predators. So I was saying, maybe it's okay for a youngster and a slave to be walking together, with nobody else around. But maybe it's not. If somebody thinks we don't look right, they will talk to us, and we might not answer them right. I don't think I'm supposed to talk at all, and you might say the wrong things, because you don't know very much about them yet."
Runner was nodding, visibly concentrating on my explanation. "So we need to watch them for awhile. Like right after I ran away."
I nodded. "Yes! First we need to find the trail over the mountains — the place where people walk up the mountain and down. Have you seen that?"
Runner nodded. "I thought they just lived close to the edge."
"Do you know which way that is from here?" With all our wanderings in the last few days, I had lost track of where I'd been before. Runner shook his head blankly, and I said, "That's okay, we'll find it. For now, let's eat something."
Runner nodded, pulled the remnants of the meat out of his bag, and handed me a piece. I smiled. "It's really nice being able to eat preymeat again."
We finished off our meal with peaches, and a drink from the stream. It seemed still darker now. "Runner, I think we'd better stay here for the night."
Runner nodded, instantly peeling off his clothes. I did my usual check for traps, unwound the vines from around my waist and coiled them neatly on the ground. I treated the vines with respect; they had saved me from traps, and also given Runner a reason to help me get home. But the irritation of having them constantly rubbing my skin made me almost as eager to get naked as Runner.
Runner knelt and brushed his hand lightly, almost worshipfully, on the vines. "We can find the... trail, in the morning?"
I nodded. "First thing."
Runner's eyes lit up. "Can I do hanging again?" His hand closed around the braided vine that served that purpose.
I had spent considerable time during the afternoon thinking about this. I wasn't allowed to give an outsider Academy instruction, but there was no reason I couldn't get Runner caught up on everyday facts that everyone knew in my world. "You want to learn to do it better than you did before, right?"
Runner nodded emphatically.
"I can help you do that. We can do a lot more, me and the other boys, when we get back to the Academy, but there are things I can teach you right now. We won't have time to hang you tonight..." I saw Runner's instant frown, "...but I can teach you things about it, and we won't even need light. Do you want to start?"
Runner nodded again.
"Okay, take a deep breath, really slow." I demonstrated. Runner blinked, and followed my example. I went on, "You're taking air into your body. Air is all around us. You can't see it, but you can feel it when the wind blows. That's air pushing on you. It shakes the leaves on the trees. You need air, just like you need food. Even more than food.
"When you breathe the air in, it comes in through your mouth or your nose, and it goes down into you through a space that's right in front of your neck." I put my finger lightly on Runner's throat. "Can you still breathe when I do this?" I braced the sides of my hands on Runner's shoulders, put my fingers on the back of Runner's neck, and pressed hard.
Runner said, "I can breathe."
I shifted my hands, the heels of my palms now at the front of Runner's neck, my fingers along the sides. I pressed hard against the front.
Runner's eyes grew wide, his face red. When I released the pressure, Runner gasped, and said, "That's just like when I was hanging!" He raised his hand up to the front of his throat. "So it's just here, that one place?"
I nodded. "For the air, yes."
Runner sat back, silent for a moment. It looked like Runner was visualizing something. Runner suddenly looked at me, his eyes wide. "So maybe if I tried hard to look up while I'm hanging, I could make that one place loose and I could breathe!"
I suppressed a gasp. I hadn't imagined Runner would jump to the basic idea that quickly. I nodded. "Yes, but there's more."
I explained about the blood going up to the head — Runner knew what blood was, but not its purpose — the blood carrying the "food" that the air had brought in. I had Runner hold his hand over his heart, and I explained that his heart was pushing blood around inside him with each beat. I pressed my hands against Runner's carotids, and kept them there. Runner, though still able to breathe, grew faint quickly.
After I released my grip, Runner bounced on the ground excitedly. "So I need both! I have to get air through here..." he brushed his fingers downward on his throat, "...and the air goes into the blood, and the blood comes up through here..." brushing upward on both sides of his neck, "...and feeds my head! And the... what did you call it, that I hang on?" He touched the vines on ground.
"It's a vine. We use ropes at the Academy, but this was all I could find here."
Runner nodded. "When I'm hanging, the vine squeezes everything and stops it. But..." He frowned, thoughtfully. "I could tip my head back, and get the front of the vine loose, but I can't get all those parts loose at the same time." He looked eagerly at me. "Wynn, can I watch you hang again?" He looked around and frowned again. "It's getting too dark to see you. I want to watch you when I can see you."
I looked around in surprise. I'd been concentrating so hard on the "lesson" that I had barely noticed the outside world. Now I could barely see. I nodded. "Tomorrow."
Runner slipped his arms around my waist, leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. Noticing my wide-eyed surprise, Runner asked, "Is that okay? You said I should kiss you when I feel this way."
I began tingling in a way I hadn't since I landed on the island. Breathing more deeply, I answered in a soft voice, "It's more than okay, Runner."
I kissed Runner, and after a moment, he began moving his lips in imitation of mine, following each move I made — turning his head more to the side, opening his mouth, nibbling softly on my lips with his. He whimpered softly at the back of his throat. I realized that Runner now understood another purpose of kissing.
In complete darkness now, I felt the steenbok shift his body, turning his head to the side and down, to lick my shoulder. Then I felt Runner's hands begin roaming up and down my sides, my back, my belly; he moved his head down further, his tongue running down my side. Runner's licking was nothing like Holden's feathery kiss-licks. He used his tongue more the way an animal would — different animals at different moments, sometimes using just the tip, more often the full, wet surface, lapping at my skin. His hands and even his feet were participating, the soles of his feet rubbing my lower legs. Runner started making a breathy, voiced sound, halfway between a grunt and a sigh.
Those observations were my last rational thoughts for some time. All of the need within me that had been bottled up, without outlet, for more than a week, all of the longing for the touch of my friends, all of it burst forth at once. Now it was me imitating Runner, following his lead, touching, licking, rubbing. And I realized, in a brief instant of conscious awareness, that half of the animal grunts were my own.
I licked farther down Runner's stomach now, past his navel, finding spots along the way that made the steenbok gasp and shiver. I cried out as Runner's tongue found similar spots on me. Both of us shifted to the ground to lie side by side, hands and feet still roaming over each other. My mouth found Runner's organ, tasting the familiar tastes of cock and precum, smelling the scent of male arousal. I felt Runner's tongue on my penis, Runner's hands kneading my buttocks.
I hadn't noticed the rain was falling harder, and barely reacted to the lightning, each flash engraving in my memory a visual image, too brief for motion: Runner's thighs on either side, the skin wet and shiny in its coating of rainwater, and thousands of suspended raindrops, each frozen in place and glowing in rainbow colors in that instant.
...The sudden flow of steenbok cum into my mouth, different from other males I'd been with, but tasty... started an explosion inside me, silent yet somehow louder than the thunder outside, my body quivering, waves of pleasure pounding through me — still coming — still coming — going now, subsiding, waving goodbye, leaving me drained in their wake.
I felt as if I'd run a mile at top speed. I felt Runner's hot breath on my inner thighs. Both of us lay exhausted, limp.
Okay, I said to myself, too drained to giggle. I know how they have sex in the pens now.