Chapter 13: Bradford, Stanton Reach, Malaya

If things had been cool between Damian and me before, once Jim had gone they were icy. Then we heard that Jim was dead. And we also heard that Jane had left for England on advisement that she needed an environment that did not distress and terrorize her—that, if she lingered in Malaya in her grief over the death of Jim at the hands of bandits on the road between Stanton Reach and George Town, she most likely would lose the baby.

Damian descended into a funk. He felt bereft of family and of anyone who cared for him. He was sure that now that Jane had a child to think of, all thoughts of Damian were dead to her. Why had she not asked him to sail with her?

I suspected I knew the answer to that. I’d seen Fahmeed destroy more than one telegram from George Town without showing it to Damian. And I wouldn’t have been the least surprised if he sent off false telegrams of his own claiming that Damian did not want to go back to England. But I was powerless to say anything. Fahmeed was all powerful now, and I feared for Damian’s life.

Damian took to wearing no more than a sarong tied about his slim hips, and in the following days, I often saw him among the rubber trees, blatantly and openly being taken by one of the Indian rubber tappers or one of the Malays who worked on the plantation.

Damian was driving me wild. I wanted him so much I ached for him constantly, but he hated me and made it clear what he thought of me. Things couldn’t go on like this, I knew.

Each night I went to bed with my shorts on and lay there listening for the drums, trying not to fall asleep, but it was useless. After nights of broken sleep and days of hard work, I was exhausted and slept fitfully.

But I think I awoke the instant the drumming began on the night of the first full moon since Jim had left on his ill-fated ride toward George Town. Immediately, I ran to the great house, and in the moonlight I saw Damian, naked and in a trance, his cock already growing erect, descending the stairs from the veranda. When I reached him, I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

His eyes were glazed, and he tried to push me off, saying, “The trees. I must go. The spirit of the trees must enter me. I must feel their trunks rising inside me; I must go.”

I wrestled with him, and his eyes lost their vacant look, but his struggling didn’t stop, and he was stronger than I expected.

The drumming stopped now, though, and he looked about as if wondering where he was then tried to shake my hands free.

“What happened. Where...?”

“Fahmeed wants to control you. He uses the drums to call you to him, not just for the fucking, but for control of Stanton Reach.”

“You are lying,” Damian said.

I managed to lead him to my bungalow and settled him down on my bed, where he soon dozed off. I locked the doors to the dangers of the night and sat in a chair by the bed to watch over him. I must have drifted off though as it seemed that the drumming began immediately. It was as if Fahmeed was demanding Damian back again. I rose up in a panic to see Damian struggling to open the French doors to the veranda. He seemed dazed again, with no idea where he was.

“No, Damian.” I grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and turned him and shook him, “No. You are not going to him.”

“I must. I must,” he murmured, and I realized he had his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking. “I want what he gives me. I want it. I need it. The ceremony makes me feel alive. When that great tree trunk is...” his whispery voice died as I pushed him back on the bed. Grabbing the cord from my own sleeping pants, letting them fall to the ground so my own erection sprung free, I tied his wrists together and onto the iron frame of the bed.

“Is this all you want?” I cried, straddling his hips and holding my own engorged cock in my hand and showing it to him. “Is this all that matters to you?” I was lost to him. I had wanted Damian from that first moment I saw him as a young man, when he arrived with Jim and Jane, four months before.

He struggled, but his hands were securely tied, and I moved back and grabbed his ankles and spread and lifted his legs. He had been well used, and in the heat of the moment, I was unable to control myself.

“I can give you that if it’s all you want,” I cried as I guided my cock to his hole and he kicked weakly. I drove in angrily, surprised at how tight he was. He cried out at the pain, but I ignored him. I drove in further, and suddenly my entry became easy, and he cried out in a different voice, one of surprise as much as pain.

He writhed beneath me as my hips met his ass. Then when I began to plow him, his body moved with mine, matching my thrusts. He was crying, “more, more, oh deeper, oh yes, you move so fluidly. Fuck me as you let Jim fuck you” and writhing beneath me. I felt the anger drain from me and became lost in the fuck, looking down in the pale light at his face as he moved his head about in the passion of the moment.

I slowed my pumping and rotated my hips, stroking him deeply as he moved his hips with me, sending me over the moon. I quickly came, filling him with my seed. Feeling it pump out inside him, possessing him. Finally taking him as I’d wanted to for so long. Then I collapsed along his body, and my mouth found his, and our lips met. I moaned, laying my hands on his blond head and pulling it to me. Moving a hand down to his chest, finding a hard nipple and dropping my lips to it. I nibbled it roughly—then found the other and lapped at it. Damian moaned and wrapped his legs about my hips. But I moved down, lower, my mouth and lips exploring his body, tasting the sweat on him, making him moan as I felt his cock resting hard against me. Finally, my lips found its head, and I began to work the stiff shaft in and out of my mouth. Now it was his turn to grab my head, but he roughly pulled and pushed me, guiding my mouth up and down, till he shuddered and came, filling my throat with his cream.