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Mitra learns about the basics of fencing and a little about Master Omari's mysterious past. At Master's house, the urges of puberty get the better of him and he is caught spying! What will his punishment be? ","writing":"Inside of the quaint harborside hovel, belongings of years gone by were strewn across the floor as if a storm blew through. Their owner was sifting through his past in search of something specific, although he paused along the way to admire his forgotten and neglected treasures. Traveling gear, maps, journals, toys, and even a few musical instruments were among the items that made up the growing pile. The more sentimental belongings, like those that were remnants of Rakesh, left Omari almost catatonic. Sitting on the top of the steps to his bedroom, he savored the bittersweet mix of fondness and longing. Staccato taps at the door broke his daze. He knew it could be no one else but his apprentice summoning him for today's lesson. Impatient knocking continued until the door was answered. \n\n\"I hear you, enough already!\" the master growled. \"You're here early. I was going to fetch you at your house.\" \n\nThe boisterous panda boy displayed his readiness and anticipation by stretching and shuffling in place. \nExpectation of the fulfilled promise fueled his enthusiasm as much as the presence of his master. He slipped past the threshold at his own welcome, never mind that the door was barely held ajar. \"At my house? But you said to meet you here.\" \n\n\"Yes, but the location of our warm up is closer to your house than mine, so I was going to head there first. You know the path to the shrine of Viddal? The one that goes up the face of the mountain?\" Omari asked with a smug grin. His mischievous side took guilty pleasure in the thought of daunting his subject with the sight of his training grounds. \n\n\"I think so. I haven't been there, but I've seen it from the road. Why are we going there?\" \n\n\"It's the longest stairway on the island,\" Omari boasted. \n\nThat the master was notably enjoying coming up with these challenges was somewhat unsettling for the boy, who let out a groan. He knew exactly where this was going. \"You don't mean... I thought you said no more endurance tests last time?\"\n\n\"This isn't a test. This is to improve your footwork, make your legs stronger. I meant every word when I said you had to get in shape, so don't expect otherwise. Don't stop running on your own, either.\"\n\n\"After that will we get to use swords?\" Mitra whined and clasped his hands together in a placating pose. \"You promised that we would!\"\n\n\"I have no intention of going against my word. Wait here for a moment. Don't touch anything,\" Omari said as he disappeared upstairs. He returned with two wooden practice sabers that looked like toys at first glance. They were somewhat crude in their craftsmanship to begin with. Nicks and scuffs in their finish chronicled the battles in which they clashed. Each saber was emblazoned with a motif befitting the owner, specifically their favored elements. One of the blades resembled a flame spewed from the base of the hilt, colored with vibrant hues to match. The other had a serpentine blade and a sky blue finish. Functionally, they were little more than twigs, but in the hands of imaginative youth they were fearsome ensorcelled weapons. The fire saber was presented to the apprentice. \"Here, I scrounged up my old sparring sticks. This one is yours.\"\n\nMitra hesitated in awe of what far exceeded his expectations of this highly anticipated and gratifying moment. He accepted the saber with utmost respect for what he viewed as a masterpiece, twirling it in his grip to glance it over and get a feel for its weight. \"The etching looks like flames! It suits me perfectly! This is amazing, where did you get this?\" \n\n\"I carved these when I was still training. Father was an artisan of bound wares. Taught me a few tricks of the trade. The woodworking side, anyway,\" the modest jackal mentioned as if it were nothing. He rested the back of his wind saber on his shoulder and held open the door for Mitra. \n\nYet another skill in Master's arsenal, the adoring boy thought. The more he learned, the more remarkable this man appeared. Was there anything he couldn't do? \"They're really well made. I wish my father were around more often to show me things like that,\" he said while inspecting the woodwork and stepping out to the street. \n\n\"We didn't actually have the best relationship in the end,\" Omari sighed. \"Disapproved of my decision not to inherit his legacy, not that I had any aptitude for it. And he liked to drink a lot. I'd go as far to say that your grandfather was a better paternal figure for me. Can't say I minded spending more time at your house, though.\"\n\n\"That's right, you also said you'd tell me more about your childhood.\"\n\nOmari took a deep breath to collect his thoughts and steel his emotions. His chest felt tight just thinking about how much he missed Rakesh and the days they spent having fun. Perhaps Mitra was the one person he could talk to about it without judgment, he reasoned. \"My father traveled to Gurinth seeking to hone his craft when I was a little younger than you. He was very successful, like your grandfather, but he cared more about the art than making a fortune. So, he ended up squandering his silver on booze and rare materials for his next grand creation. Sometimes I was allowed to tag along on his expeditions, but most of the time I was left to myself. Nature was my way of escaping when he didn't want me around.\"\n\n\"When did you meet my uncle?\"\n\n\"I was getting to that, don't interrupt. As I was saying, there's only so much nature to explore on Gurinth, at least if you're limited to the main island. Your family moved here from Shiragrad the same year, and Rakesh was also a loner who spent his time outside the gate. Neither of us had any friends when we arrived. Inevitably we'd keep crossing paths walking around the mountain until one day I decided to speak to him. We got along so well that we spent the rest of our youth going anywhere we shouldn't go.\"\n\nConfiding personal details warmed the boy's heart. It was a relief to find that they had as much in common. For the first time since coming to Gurinth, he too made a friend. Maybe the thought wasn't mutual, but it was good enough to believe their relationship could be more personal than professional. He decided he would confide his secret as well to cultivate their bond. \"Hey, can I tell you something?\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"I also do stuff like that sometimes. I'm never allowed to go anywhere interesting when father is home. He says things like it's too dangerous for children when there are elementals and monsters out there. Usually when he's away on a business trip, I'll sneak out just to walk around and nothing bad has ever happened. It gets boring being cooped up,\" Mitra admitted in a guilty whisper as he checked around for eavesdroppers.\n\nThere's the rebellious side Indira warned me of, Omari thought. He could tell that Mitra felt it was a gamble to confess his secret, although it only improved his opinion of him. Indira didn't raise just a spineless brat after all. Pondering exactly how much the boy got away with, or tried to, and whether he would have been any fun back in the day, Omari neglected that he was being stared at for a response. \n\n\"You won't tell him, will you?\" the boy implored. \n\n\"That's not my job,\" Omari yawned. \"Besides, I'd be a terrible hypocrite if I did. We had the time of our lives back then, when we were still exploring the world and ourselves. It damn well was dangerous sometimes, but that's what made it really thrilling.\"\n\n\"Where did you go?\" Mitra inquired, yearning for any possible details on their escapades and ideas for his own. \n\n\"When we had enough coins, we rented a boat to sail to one of the other nearby islands. We'd run across the rooftops and scaled up the sides of the towers in the assembly district. Got dragged home by city guards more times than I can count. And I'm sure you know those sprawling mansions at the very edge of town that have huge expanses of land. Those lords own their own section of the forest. There's this great place to swim in one of them, and if you know which way to go no one will see you,\" the man recounted the list of stomping grounds as they came to mind. He was expecting to tell these stories with a heavy heart and instead took great pleasure in reliving the years when every day was an adventure. \n\nExcursions to other noteworthy spots came to mind upon passing the relevant landmarks. Unfinished stories gave way to the next, highlighting the comical and outlandish moments. Eccentric characters and daring stunts illustrated a theatrical panorama of their adventure. Every so often, Omari pointed to a frequent hangout or tall structure that once presented a perilous challenge. Former battlegrounds brought mention of the scuffles they survived through stroke of fortune or guile. Gurinth as he spoke of it was so much more glamorous and colorful.\n\nThere were enough stories to pass the day, but they were put on hold when they arrived at the inner corner of the city. Steps carved out of the mountainside lead up to a man-made plateau, the site of the shrine to Viddal, patron god of Gurinth. Viddal's draconic likeless watched over the townsfolk below and the sea beyond from his nestled perch. The shrine was on the highest of three tiers, each separated by stairways at wide angles to conform to the curve of the cliff face. \n\nWalking the initial ascent to place the practice sabers at the top was a work out in itself. Mitra lost count of steps, but estimated it to be in the hundreds. Apart from the howling drafts, the shrine was secluded and serene, free from other visitors. The dragon statue was encased by lightning bolt pillars at the four quarters. Viddal towered at several times their height, his claws clasped in a dignified prayer. Ashen remains of incense in a clay bowl and an offering cerulean flowers were arranged at the base. \n\n\"Are you sure this isn't an endurance test? I'm starting to see why no one else is worshipping at this shrine,\" the skeptical panda objected. He stood overlooking the stairs from their vantage point. No one in their right mind would subject themselves to this for any reason but masochism. \n\n\"That's not why. No one comes to this shrine because they go to the temple on the university island to worship.\"\n\n\"Right, because most people are sane and take the ferry,\" Mitra sneered.\n\n\"Feisty,\" Omari chuckled. \"Apply that energy of yours to your training. You're going all the way down to the bottom and all the way back up as fast as you can, got it? Make it three times in a row. Hop to it, Mitra!\" He gave his student a playful slap to the back to spur him into action. \n\n\"This is definitely harder than swimming,\" the boy muttered. It took a moment to psych himself up for this rigorous exercise. He stalled by stretching one last time. \n\n\"Climbing stairs is the most effective method for strengthening your legs is all. Footwork is foremost, never forget that. It's not about putting you to the test, this is it. This is how you become competent,\" the master advocated to incite his student's ambitious nature. The austerity of the training didn't prevent it from also being fun. \"Let's go, I'll race you.\"\n\nMitra was instantly motivated. The challenge elicited his conniving, competitive side. Racing was one of many measures of hierarchy among children back home in Shiragrad. \"A race, you say? Is sorcery allowed?\" he proposed with devious glee. \n\nOmari shook his head. \"Foolish. Burn through your stamina like that and you have no chance of finishing, let alone winning.\"\n\n\"So that means that you allow it,\" Mitra asserted.\n\n\"Hahaha! By all means, use your sorcery if you are that confident about it. I'll show you the fault in your arrogance. Are you ready?\" \n\nPreparation for the contest entailed removing their outer layers of clothing. Omari, being the minimalist he is, opted to discard all but his loincloth. Mitra tried not to be distracted and refastened his garment around his waist like a skirt. Once they assumed their stances at the starting line, Omari took the initiative by taking a flying leap off. The jackal's nimble feet skipped down several steps at once with relative ease. He held back in the interest of staying close by and watched Mitra's progress. \n\nThey kept pace with each other to the bottom of the last tier, where they pivoted to make their ascent. Mitra figured that this was his opportunity to take advantage of and channeled his soul energy into his extremities, bolstering his muscles with vigor and precision. This technique allowed him to generate surges of strength to propel rapid bounding strides. Continuous use was taxing as suggested, but staggered bursts proved more efficient. His teacher was astonished that a novice sorcerer took the lead and knew to give his all from then on. Able to run up the steps roughly as fast without the aid of sorcery, Omari reclaimed the lead. At the flat tiers, Mitra sprinted for a running jump and landed on all fours to soften his fall. He scrambled ahead to find that he wasn't as far ahead as he hoped. \n\nAlthough Mitra was the first to reach the summit, the second descent is when the master played along with a trick of his own. Wind sorcery guided his jumps and cushioned his landings, allowing him to barely skim the steps on his way down the first flight. Despite the subtle and graceful effect of his sorcery, it expended too much to keep up. He relied on natural ability for the remainder of the race. Physical enhancement wasn't sufficient to surpass decades of practiced dexterity. \n\nAt the risk of a potential misstep resulting in a rather ugly landing, the daring red panda boy vaulted forward and let gravity carry him the rest of the way to the next tier. The ground below seemed so far away at the zenith of his leap. To his dismay, his burning vigor waned and his muscles turned soft. His legs gave in on impact and he tumbled face first into the dirt. \n\nOmari rushed over to pull the boy to his feet and support his weight. \"Mitra! Are you alright? You break anything?\" \n\n\"I don't think so,\" Mitra groaned while taking advantage of a sturdy frame to lean into. His forehead and cheek stung where they scraped on the ground, his ankles and knees felt weak, and he had a few bruises. Losing was worth it to be coddled. His indulgence was cut short when he was shoved off by his perturbed yet relieved master. \n\n\"You idiot! How am I supposed to bring you home looking like hell? You could have broken something jumping like that,\" Omari snapped. \"Missed the point of the exercise. We were supposed to be running up the stairs to help your footwork.\" \n\n\"Why did you play along, then?\"\n\n\"Well, it was kind of fun. I'll admit it was rather impressive, too. You almost had me. How about we go fetch those sabers?\"\n\n\"Of course! I think I'll walk up, though.\" \n\nHow someone could switch from annoyed lecturing to laid back comradery the next was a bit unusual, but he accepted it as a personality trait and not an indicator of true ire now that he was accustomed to it. He lagged behind at first to shake off his injuries. The soreness was already fading a little. Being able to stare at the scantily clad butt for the duration of their passive climb was an unforeseen boon he was happy to take advantage of. The reason for his fascination was something he had been thinking of since the last lesson. Nudity itself was a fascinating and novel subject. In a culture where decency was a high priority, he was raised to believe that his naked body was personal and intimate. It made sense to be so enthralled by the idea, he reasoned. He spaced out thinking about what it looked like under that loincloth until he was at the top. \n\nThey assumed their stances at the center of the tier facing each other with sabers in hand. Mitra tried his best to mirror the pose he observed from the expert. The presence of the sword completed the picture of the pose he learned from a defensive perspective; the stance's purpose was minimal body exposure as much as mobility. There was also a brief tangent of thought concerning the bulbous shaped loincloth and the body part responsible that he put out of his mind. \n\n\"What should I do first?\"\n\nOmari didn't think much of a lesson plan. Teaching by example seemed to be the best way. He thought to confer the methods of blocking first so they could spar. \"What do you do if I attack you?\" he asked, intended to induce the right state of mind for a fight. \n\n\"Huh? Don't I move out of the way? I'm not sure what kind of answer you're expecting.\"\n\n\"That's one way, but that won't help your situation much. It's better to be able to protect yourself from oncoming strikes and use that opening as an opportunity to strike back. You start by positioning your saber to block mine, depending on if it's coming from the left, right, or above. The first two are slight variations on the neutral stance, tipping your point inside or outside to block flank or chest, respectively,\" the master explained with careful deliberation and slowed down examples to coincide with his terms.\n\n\"Um... You lost me. Can you show me what you mean again?\"\n\nFor his second demonstration, he motioned for his apprentice to mock combat in slow motion. \"Very well, pay attention and keep with me. If you make an outward slash like this, I hold my saber with the tip tilted in and the hilt out. You basically do the opposite if i'm making an inward slash, with the hilt closer to your left side. Guard by making our swords cross and push mine away. That's called parrying.\"\n\n\"I think I understand it now. Can I try, please?\"\n\n\"Fine. I'm going to come at you slow and alternate my attacks so you get a feel for switching guards.\"\n\nThe logic behind the maneuver was simple enough to grasp. Feeble positioning developed into consistency after a few repetitions of increasing speed and force. Mitra was encouraged to put more force into his blocking as well. The third and final guard, that involved holding the saber high horizontally to block overhead strikes, was incorporated next. Confident with his comprehension, he remarked, \"Seems easy. There must be more to it than that.\"\n\n\"That covers the slashing strokes of the weapon style we'll be using. It's your turn to try offense now. Come at me,\" the swordsman beckoned. He motioned with his free hand to advance. \n\n\"Uh... What do you want me to do?\"\n\n\"Do what?\" Omari mocked. \"Try to hit me! Cut me up!\"\n\n\"I know it's made out of wood but won't that hurt?\"\n\n\"Not really. Obviously brute force won't help your technique, but don't hold back out of fear of hurting me. I don't intend on letting you connect, anyway. I'm going to demonstrate how to counter. Begin.\" \n\nHow relaxed and even lackadaisical he acted towards giving his apprentice free reign with a blunt object was a statement of his skill. As often as he was apathetic, there was something different about how he carried himself with a sword. His gaze was intense and unwavering while his body remained loose and adaptable, ready for the first move. When Mitra took two steps towards him to get in range, he backpedaled away. The first slash came in low and was evaded by a slight shift. Next came a rush with a series of alternating strokes that met with the opposing blade. \n\n\"Good footwork, but your attacks are too predictable. And you're leaving yourself wide open,\" Omari advised. \n\nMitra was frustrated to hear this, as he wasn't sure what he did wrong. It didn't help that his master had little confidence in his success, either. He strained his imagination to devise an attack capable of sneaking past the infallible defenses. The second advance resulted in a swift block that not only pushed his saber away, but brought the other saber to his ribs before he recovered. Consecutive attempts all ended similarly. No matter what he came up with, his plans were cut short at every turn. He gave up when the blade was smacked out of his grip.\n\n\"You win. I guess I really can't hit you after all,\" he lamented. \n\nSad to see him discouraged, his master gave a reassuring pat on the shoulder. If anything, he'd say he was impressed so far. \"Don't fret over it,\" he reassured. \"You weren't half bad, really. Let's call it a day.\"\n\n\"Are you...going home?\"\n\n\"I was planning on it. Why?\"\n\n\"Can I walk with you?\" the boy plead. \"I don't want to go home to study yet.\"\n\n\"I don't see why not.\"\n\nOn their way to the harbor, Mitra played with his sword idly while listening to the continuation of the childhood stories. He practiced his form against imaginary opponents that he cut through on his way to the next. The disappointment of his defeat dissolved into his normal hyperactive enthusiasm. \n\nThe narrative progressed further into the later teens, when the threats were more tangible. There weren't any large scale battles in their history, but the few times he faced real combat sounded epic all the same. Enraged elementals and dynamic clashes of ensorcelled steel were legendary spectacles the likes of which the boy had never seen, although he was told this was the exception and not the rule. \n\nTalk of battle warranted a description of the assortment of weapons that collected dust at home. Mention of exotic words for weapons of all corners of Phylos prompted interruption for clarification. Omari tried his best to convey the hook of the khopesh, the unique edge on his fauchard, and the absurdity of the shotel's crescent shape. They reached the wharf during his explanation of how his rapier could penetrate steel. \nMere description was a tantalizing teaser for the real thing. It was all too exciting to part ways so soon. Perhaps it was bold of Mitra to impose, but nothing was preferable to this. When they arrived at the jackal's home, he mustered the courage to ask, \"Can you show them to me? Please? They all sound so awesome!\"\n\nCompany was a welcome change to the master's solitary lifestyle, so he nodded in agreement without a second thought. \"Yes, but you'll regret it if you do anything stupid, got it? Come on inside.\"\n\nOmari lead the way upstairs to where most of the pieces were displayed on mounts and stands, both armor and weapons alike. The list of sword types from earlier were clarified first hand. Curved blades like the scimitar and kopis were most common among them. They were taken down one by one to be handled with an in depth analysis of the difference in the construction and style. \n\nThe weight of steel gave a sense of power when wielding them. Mitra found it awkward to swing at first because of it, but the lighter blades suited him well. He soaked up all the knowledge he was given and thought about which ones were his favorites. This was such a sublime pleasure it made up for his futile defeat and sore joints. He could hardly contain himself. \"I can't believe you have so many! Where did you get them all?\"\n\n\"A few of these we acquired when we were in the guard, the rest were either gifts from our families or ones we found for cheap. I thought about selling some of them, but they're about all I have.\"\n\n\"That's right, you skipped the part of your story where you learned how to fight and joined the guard.\"\n\n\"Ah, well. All of that trouble we found brought us a lot of pressure from our parents to straighten up, your grandfather especially. We were forced to train under our master as punishment for our mischief and to impart some discipline on us. Then, when we entered adulthood, Rakesh was made to choose between the university or the guard. He chose the guard. I went with him,\" Omari elaborated in his morose monotone, despite having a brightness in his voice a moment ago. \n\n\"Were you forced to as well?\" \n\nOmari paused, then said,\"No. I didn't want him to be alone. Or maybe I didn't want to be alone. Either way, he's the reason why.\"\n\nThe shift in mood was palpable even for the naive youth. He ceased his playing and looked up with concern. Jealousy of their friendship and guilt over asking about it made his stomach sink. It was best not to pry any further, he thought. \"You two must be really good friends,\" he said to break the silence.\n\n\"We were. You know that one you're holding was his,\" Omari pointed out to steer the conversation back to the present. \"If you like it, maybe I'll let you use it outside sometime.\"\n\n\"Wow, can I? That would be amazing!\" Mitra boomed, bouncing from overflowing joy. \n\n\"Yes, just be careful with it while you're in my house,\" his master cautioned. He gently pet between the boy's ears to soothe him and held the flat of the blade. \"I'll be right back, I'm going to change out of these sweaty clothes.\"\n\nThe implication of nudity proved somehow more tantalizing than playing with swords. Thin folding screens were all that separated the privacy of the bedroom from the rest of the upper floor. Mitra's heart pounded. Any moment now, Omari would be removing his clothes. A moist, ripe smelling loincloth was sure to be included, exposing the parts that remained a mystery to flop around briefly before being wrapped in a fresh one. He wasn't sure, but peeping through the opening in the screen from the other side of the room might give a glimpse of what Omari's genitals looked like. An opportunity to sate his curiosity like this wasn't guaranteed to come along again, and he didn't want to regret not taking it. The stigma of spying on someone undressing was all that made him hesitate, but he had little time to spare. \n\nBetter judgment was no rival for pubescent desire. Holding his breath, he crept over to take a peek around the barrier. The layout of the room was in his favor, granting a spectacular side view of a penis much thicker than his own. Its girth was substantial enough to play with between his closed fingers, he thought. He could have stared much longer and basked in heated arousal if not for it being covered up so painfully soon. When Omari turned to look in his direction, he backed away in a panic. His already racing pulse thrummed harder when he tripped over the armor stand and toppled it. Armor pieces bounced off the floor in a cacophony of clanging metal. It occurred to him that he had to face the consequences of his backfired idea. Fear of the worst, the end of his training, was the dominant speculation. It depended on whether or not he was seen peeking, he thought. The disgruntled gaze bearing down on him did not bode well. \"I'm sorry, Master! It was an accident!\" he apologized pre-emptively. \n\n\"What the hell? I told you to be careful!\" Omari barked. \n\n\"I lost my balance with the sword and fell into it,\" Mitra lied.\n\n\"Don't act dumb! I knew what you were doing. You were spying on me.\"\n\nTruth was brought to light. He was caught red handed and backed into a corner. Several things were at stake, not the least of which was Master's opinion of him. Shortsighted as it were to act without thinking of how much trouble he'd be in, now he had to deal with it. The only option was to prostrate himself and beg for forgiveness. \"Okay I'm really sorry! I was just... Please, just don't stop being my master. And please don't tell my father what happened! I'll do anything you ask me to! I'd do anything to train under you!\" \n\nInnocent and natural curiosity was nothing to be ashamed of from the jackal's perspective, but submissive groveling gave him insidious ideas. Doubt was erased from suspicions of the boy's crush. Holding all the power allowed him to use the submission to his amusement. He knew Mitra would do anything he required. A peek in return would be appropriate retribution and maybe teach a lesson about humility. However, the real reason for his devised 'punishment' was to see a cute boy cock. Whether his lust arose from the likeness to his former lover or something as simple as solitude driving him ravenous for a hot young body, he wanted it either way. So, he decided to be opportunistic as well. \"I'll let it go,\" he said. \"But you should undress in front of me now.\"\n\nAt first, Mitra was alarmed at the idea of exposing himself fully for the first time. The difference in their sizes was a cause for concern; whether his boyhood measured up to 'normal' remained a mystery. He wasn't sure if this was a legitimate price for his deed, or if Omari had the same desire. Overcoming his fear was worth compliance, but it also forged a mutual interest of secrecy. What happened in this room was bound to stay in it. The private setting, as opposed to the other day at the beach, also made stripping less uncomfortable. He looked down at the bulge below his waist and back up at Omari. \n\nDetermined to appease his master, he agreed. He methodically lifted the peplos over his head and dropped it, followed by his chiton, stalling to psych himself up for the last article. He pulled down his underwear to his ankles and stood straight to display his goods. His penis was small and stubby, its head and foreskin making up most of the visible length. Extra fluff around his middle, like his thighs and butt, gave a soft appearance. He awaited approval as he was inspected. \n\nOmari masked his intense gratification over an ideal body, the spitting image of his lover at the age they were experimenting with each other. Instinct dictated he hide his feelings, but it was too late to care about that now. He was past the point of no return. If the boy was offering himself, he planned to revel in it. \"See, that wasn't so bad. You know undressing around your companions is considered ordinary here.\"\n\n\"I know that. I'm just not used to it,\" the nervous panda confessed. The sense of being gawked at intently kept him from making continuous eye contact. He considered broaching the subject of his size, but he was too flustered to form the words. At least master seemed satisfied, which was a boost to his confidence. It was even kind of fun to share an intimate moment together. He was about to pull up his underwear when he was given further instruction.\n\n\"Before you get dressed, pick up the mess you made,\" Omari ordered. \"Consider it extra training to get used to it.\" \n\nWithout protest, Mitra gathered the gauntlets and pauldrons strewn about the room. Each time the boy bent over to collect a piece, his master was allowed to take in the view of a round, chubby rear protruding towards him. Omari was only able to stifle his arousal for so long, however, and casually plopped to the floor to hide the tent he was pitching. Sitting hunched over made his erection parallel with his thigh. He slipped his hand under the flap of his loincloth to pleasure himself discreetly while his student faced away. Once the armor display was intact, he permitted them to get dressed. \n\n\"I'd better go home before I get in trouble for staying out too long,\" Mitra said while he donned his final layer. Eager as he was to be free of the tension and sort through his emotions, this was the truth. \n\nUnable to stand up without revealing his state of arousal, Omari thought it appropriate to part ways as well. \"Why don't you bring your saber home? Think you can remember to bring it with you next time?\"\n\n\"Oh yes! Thank you, Master!\" Mitra cheered and rushed downstairs to retrieve his prize before he heard all the jackal had to say. \n\n\"Meet me at the shrine in two days! And don't forget to practice your footwork!\" Omari yelled. \n\n\"I will! Goodnight, Master!\" \n\nWhen the door slammed shut, Omari breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back. Thoughts of what he wished to do to that pristine body filled his mind. Today's events were merely the precursor for bringing their relationship to another level. It was precedent for all other excuses for nudity. Looking was sure to pave the way for touching, and he was sure to seize the opportunities for that to happen. Mitra was obedient, eager to please, curious, and daring, a perfect mixture of traits for subjecting to sexual pleasure. \n\nIn the meantime, he had to sate his irrepressible desire. He practically tore off his loincloth and vigorously tugged on his rigid cock to the idea of training his student to be doing this for him, and doing the same in return. Being referred to as Master and being treated as such was a bit embarrassing at first, but now it was a turn on. Having someone looking up to him, who valued his knowledge, wisdom, and experience, who respected him, was empowering. Someone who would take his length in either end without question and love every second. Discovering pleasure for the first time intensified their emotions. He'd crave that high and let him do whatever he wanted as much as he wanted. \n\nHe remembered what it was like when he and Rakesh started incidentally seeing each other in the nude. Rakesh's curiosity and forwardness led to them lining up to compare sizes after the first few instances, which only escalated from there. Nothing in life came close to the fun he had in those days. That joy was within his grasp again. He pictured Mitra kissing, cuddling, sucking, and humping him. Years of longing culminated into release, spreading his seed across the floor. Soon, he thought, he would be teaching more than swordplay. \n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"Inside of the quaint harborside hovel, belongings of years gone by were strewn across the floor as if a storm blew through. Their owner was sifting through his past in search of something specific, although he paused along the way to admire his forgotten and neglected treasures. Traveling gear, maps, journals, toys, and even a few musical instruments were among the items that made up the growing pile. The more sentimental belongings, like those that were remnants of Rakesh, left Omari almost catatonic. Sitting on the top of the steps to his bedroom, he savored the bittersweet mix of fondness and longing. Staccato taps at the door broke his daze. He knew it could be no one else but his apprentice summoning him for today's lesson. Impatient knocking continued until the door was answered.
"I hear you, enough already!" the master growled. "You're here early. I was going to fetch you at your house."
The boisterous panda boy displayed his readiness and anticipation by stretching and shuffling in place.
Expectation of the fulfilled promise fueled his enthusiasm as much as the presence of his master. He slipped past the threshold at his own welcome, never mind that the door was barely held ajar. "At my house? But you said to meet you here."
"Yes, but the location of our warm up is closer to your house than mine, so I was going to head there first. You know the path to the shrine of Viddal? The one that goes up the face of the mountain?" Omari asked with a smug grin. His mischievous side took guilty pleasure in the thought of daunting his subject with the sight of his training grounds.
"I think so. I haven't been there, but I've seen it from the road. Why are we going there?"
"It's the longest stairway on the island," Omari boasted.
That the master was notably enjoying coming up with these challenges was somewhat unsettling for the boy, who let out a groan. He knew exactly where this was going. "You don't mean... I thought you said no more endurance tests last time?"
"This isn't a test. This is to improve your footwork, make your legs stronger. I meant every word when I said you had to get in shape, so don't expect otherwise. Don't stop running on your own, either."
"After that will we get to use swords?" Mitra whined and clasped his hands together in a placating pose. "You promised that we would!"
"I have no intention of going against my word. Wait here for a moment. Don't touch anything," Omari said as he disappeared upstairs. He returned with two wooden practice sabers that looked like toys at first glance. They were somewhat crude in their craftsmanship to begin with. Nicks and scuffs in their finish chronicled the battles in which they clashed. Each saber was emblazoned with a motif befitting the owner, specifically their favored elements. One of the blades resembled a flame spewed from the base of the hilt, colored with vibrant hues to match. The other had a serpentine blade and a sky blue finish. Functionally, they were little more than twigs, but in the hands of imaginative youth they were fearsome ensorcelled weapons. The fire saber was presented to the apprentice. "Here, I scrounged up my old sparring sticks. This one is yours."
Mitra hesitated in awe of what far exceeded his expectations of this highly anticipated and gratifying moment. He accepted the saber with utmost respect for what he viewed as a masterpiece, twirling it in his grip to glance it over and get a feel for its weight. "The etching looks like flames! It suits me perfectly! This is amazing, where did you get this?"
"I carved these when I was still training. Father was an artisan of bound wares. Taught me a few tricks of the trade. The woodworking side, anyway," the modest jackal mentioned as if it were nothing. He rested the back of his wind saber on his shoulder and held open the door for Mitra.
Yet another skill in Master's arsenal, the adoring boy thought. The more he learned, the more remarkable this man appeared. Was there anything he couldn't do? "They're really well made. I wish my father were around more often to show me things like that," he said while inspecting the woodwork and stepping out to the street.
"We didn't actually have the best relationship in the end," Omari sighed. "Disapproved of my decision not to inherit his legacy, not that I had any aptitude for it. And he liked to drink a lot. I'd go as far to say that your grandfather was a better paternal figure for me. Can't say I minded spending more time at your house, though."
"That's right, you also said you'd tell me more about your childhood."
Omari took a deep breath to collect his thoughts and steel his emotions. His chest felt tight just thinking about how much he missed Rakesh and the days they spent having fun. Perhaps Mitra was the one person he could talk to about it without judgment, he reasoned. "My father traveled to Gurinth seeking to hone his craft when I was a little younger than you. He was very successful, like your grandfather, but he cared more about the art than making a fortune. So, he ended up squandering his silver on booze and rare materials for his next grand creation. Sometimes I was allowed to tag along on his expeditions, but most of the time I was left to myself. Nature was my way of escaping when he didn't want me around."
"When did you meet my uncle?"
"I was getting to that, don't interrupt. As I was saying, there's only so much nature to explore on Gurinth, at least if you're limited to the main island. Your family moved here from Shiragrad the same year, and Rakesh was also a loner who spent his time outside the gate. Neither of us had any friends when we arrived. Inevitably we'd keep crossing paths walking around the mountain until one day I decided to speak to him. We got along so well that we spent the rest of our youth going anywhere we shouldn't go."
Confiding personal details warmed the boy's heart. It was a relief to find that they had as much in common. For the first time since coming to Gurinth, he too made a friend. Maybe the thought wasn't mutual, but it was good enough to believe their relationship could be more personal than professional. He decided he would confide his secret as well to cultivate their bond. "Hey, can I tell you something?"
"What is it?"
"I also do stuff like that sometimes. I'm never allowed to go anywhere interesting when father is home. He says things like it's too dangerous for children when there are elementals and monsters out there. Usually when he's away on a business trip, I'll sneak out just to walk around and nothing bad has ever happened. It gets boring being cooped up," Mitra admitted in a guilty whisper as he checked around for eavesdroppers.
There's the rebellious side Indira warned me of, Omari thought. He could tell that Mitra felt it was a gamble to confess his secret, although it only improved his opinion of him. Indira didn't raise just a spineless brat after all. Pondering exactly how much the boy got away with, or tried to, and whether he would have been any fun back in the day, Omari neglected that he was being stared at for a response.
"You won't tell him, will you?" the boy implored.
"That's not my job," Omari yawned. "Besides, I'd be a terrible hypocrite if I did. We had the time of our lives back then, when we were still exploring the world and ourselves. It damn well was dangerous sometimes, but that's what made it really thrilling."
"Where did you go?" Mitra inquired, yearning for any possible details on their escapades and ideas for his own.
"When we had enough coins, we rented a boat to sail to one of the other nearby islands. We'd run across the rooftops and scaled up the sides of the towers in the assembly district. Got dragged home by city guards more times than I can count. And I'm sure you know those sprawling mansions at the very edge of town that have huge expanses of land. Those lords own their own section of the forest. There's this great place to swim in one of them, and if you know which way to go no one will see you," the man recounted the list of stomping grounds as they came to mind. He was expecting to tell these stories with a heavy heart and instead took great pleasure in reliving the years when every day was an adventure.
Excursions to other noteworthy spots came to mind upon passing the relevant landmarks. Unfinished stories gave way to the next, highlighting the comical and outlandish moments. Eccentric characters and daring stunts illustrated a theatrical panorama of their adventure. Every so often, Omari pointed to a frequent hangout or tall structure that once presented a perilous challenge. Former battlegrounds brought mention of the scuffles they survived through stroke of fortune or guile. Gurinth as he spoke of it was so much more glamorous and colorful.
There were enough stories to pass the day, but they were put on hold when they arrived at the inner corner of the city. Steps carved out of the mountainside lead up to a man-made plateau, the site of the shrine to Viddal, patron god of Gurinth. Viddal's draconic likeless watched over the townsfolk below and the sea beyond from his nestled perch. The shrine was on the highest of three tiers, each separated by stairways at wide angles to conform to the curve of the cliff face.
Walking the initial ascent to place the practice sabers at the top was a work out in itself. Mitra lost count of steps, but estimated it to be in the hundreds. Apart from the howling drafts, the shrine was secluded and serene, free from other visitors. The dragon statue was encased by lightning bolt pillars at the four quarters. Viddal towered at several times their height, his claws clasped in a dignified prayer. Ashen remains of incense in a clay bowl and an offering cerulean flowers were arranged at the base.
"Are you sure this isn't an endurance test? I'm starting to see why no one else is worshipping at this shrine," the skeptical panda objected. He stood overlooking the stairs from their vantage point. No one in their right mind would subject themselves to this for any reason but masochism.
"That's not why. No one comes to this shrine because they go to the temple on the university island to worship."
"Right, because most people are sane and take the ferry," Mitra sneered.
"Feisty," Omari chuckled. "Apply that energy of yours to your training. You're going all the way down to the bottom and all the way back up as fast as you can, got it? Make it three times in a row. Hop to it, Mitra!" He gave his student a playful slap to the back to spur him into action.
"This is definitely harder than swimming," the boy muttered. It took a moment to psych himself up for this rigorous exercise. He stalled by stretching one last time.
"Climbing stairs is the most effective method for strengthening your legs is all. Footwork is foremost, never forget that. It's not about putting you to the test, this is it. This is how you become competent," the master advocated to incite his student's ambitious nature. The austerity of the training didn't prevent it from also being fun. "Let's go, I'll race you."
Mitra was instantly motivated. The challenge elicited his conniving, competitive side. Racing was one of many measures of hierarchy among children back home in Shiragrad. "A race, you say? Is sorcery allowed?" he proposed with devious glee.
Omari shook his head. "Foolish. Burn through your stamina like that and you have no chance of finishing, let alone winning."
"So that means that you allow it," Mitra asserted.
"Hahaha! By all means, use your sorcery if you are that confident about it. I'll show you the fault in your arrogance. Are you ready?"
Preparation for the contest entailed removing their outer layers of clothing. Omari, being the minimalist he is, opted to discard all but his loincloth. Mitra tried not to be distracted and refastened his garment around his waist like a skirt. Once they assumed their stances at the starting line, Omari took the initiative by taking a flying leap off. The jackal's nimble feet skipped down several steps at once with relative ease. He held back in the interest of staying close by and watched Mitra's progress.
They kept pace with each other to the bottom of the last tier, where they pivoted to make their ascent. Mitra figured that this was his opportunity to take advantage of and channeled his soul energy into his extremities, bolstering his muscles with vigor and precision. This technique allowed him to generate surges of strength to propel rapid bounding strides. Continuous use was taxing as suggested, but staggered bursts proved more efficient. His teacher was astonished that a novice sorcerer took the lead and knew to give his all from then on. Able to run up the steps roughly as fast without the aid of sorcery, Omari reclaimed the lead. At the flat tiers, Mitra sprinted for a running jump and landed on all fours to soften his fall. He scrambled ahead to find that he wasn't as far ahead as he hoped.
Although Mitra was the first to reach the summit, the second descent is when the master played along with a trick of his own. Wind sorcery guided his jumps and cushioned his landings, allowing him to barely skim the steps on his way down the first flight. Despite the subtle and graceful effect of his sorcery, it expended too much to keep up. He relied on natural ability for the remainder of the race. Physical enhancement wasn't sufficient to surpass decades of practiced dexterity.
At the risk of a potential misstep resulting in a rather ugly landing, the daring red panda boy vaulted forward and let gravity carry him the rest of the way to the next tier. The ground below seemed so far away at the zenith of his leap. To his dismay, his burning vigor waned and his muscles turned soft. His legs gave in on impact and he tumbled face first into the dirt.
Omari rushed over to pull the boy to his feet and support his weight. "Mitra! Are you alright? You break anything?"
"I don't think so," Mitra groaned while taking advantage of a sturdy frame to lean into. His forehead and cheek stung where they scraped on the ground, his ankles and knees felt weak, and he had a few bruises. Losing was worth it to be coddled. His indulgence was cut short when he was shoved off by his perturbed yet relieved master.
"You idiot! How am I supposed to bring you home looking like hell? You could have broken something jumping like that," Omari snapped. "Missed the point of the exercise. We were supposed to be running up the stairs to help your footwork."
"Why did you play along, then?"
"Well, it was kind of fun. I'll admit it was rather impressive, too. You almost had me. How about we go fetch those sabers?"
"Of course! I think I'll walk up, though."
How someone could switch from annoyed lecturing to laid back comradery the next was a bit unusual, but he accepted it as a personality trait and not an indicator of true ire now that he was accustomed to it. He lagged behind at first to shake off his injuries. The soreness was already fading a little. Being able to stare at the scantily clad butt for the duration of their passive climb was an unforeseen boon he was happy to take advantage of. The reason for his fascination was something he had been thinking of since the last lesson. Nudity itself was a fascinating and novel subject. In a culture where decency was a high priority, he was raised to believe that his naked body was personal and intimate. It made sense to be so enthralled by the idea, he reasoned. He spaced out thinking about what it looked like under that loincloth until he was at the top.
They assumed their stances at the center of the tier facing each other with sabers in hand. Mitra tried his best to mirror the pose he observed from the expert. The presence of the sword completed the picture of the pose he learned from a defensive perspective; the stance's purpose was minimal body exposure as much as mobility. There was also a brief tangent of thought concerning the bulbous shaped loincloth and the body part responsible that he put out of his mind.
"What should I do first?"
Omari didn't think much of a lesson plan. Teaching by example seemed to be the best way. He thought to confer the methods of blocking first so they could spar. "What do you do if I attack you?" he asked, intended to induce the right state of mind for a fight.
"Huh? Don't I move out of the way? I'm not sure what kind of answer you're expecting."
"That's one way, but that won't help your situation much. It's better to be able to protect yourself from oncoming strikes and use that opening as an opportunity to strike back. You start by positioning your saber to block mine, depending on if it's coming from the left, right, or above. The first two are slight variations on the neutral stance, tipping your point inside or outside to block flank or chest, respectively," the master explained with careful deliberation and slowed down examples to coincide with his terms.
"Um... You lost me. Can you show me what you mean again?"
For his second demonstration, he motioned for his apprentice to mock combat in slow motion. "Very well, pay attention and keep with me. If you make an outward slash like this, I hold my saber with the tip tilted in and the hilt out. You basically do the opposite if i'm making an inward slash, with the hilt closer to your left side. Guard by making our swords cross and push mine away. That's called parrying."
"I think I understand it now. Can I try, please?"
"Fine. I'm going to come at you slow and alternate my attacks so you get a feel for switching guards."
The logic behind the maneuver was simple enough to grasp. Feeble positioning developed into consistency after a few repetitions of increasing speed and force. Mitra was encouraged to put more force into his blocking as well. The third and final guard, that involved holding the saber high horizontally to block overhead strikes, was incorporated next. Confident with his comprehension, he remarked, "Seems easy. There must be more to it than that."
"That covers the slashing strokes of the weapon style we'll be using. It's your turn to try offense now. Come at me," the swordsman beckoned. He motioned with his free hand to advance.
"Uh... What do you want me to do?"
"Do what?" Omari mocked. "Try to hit me! Cut me up!"
"I know it's made out of wood but won't that hurt?"
"Not really. Obviously brute force won't help your technique, but don't hold back out of fear of hurting me. I don't intend on letting you connect, anyway. I'm going to demonstrate how to counter. Begin."
How relaxed and even lackadaisical he acted towards giving his apprentice free reign with a blunt object was a statement of his skill. As often as he was apathetic, there was something different about how he carried himself with a sword. His gaze was intense and unwavering while his body remained loose and adaptable, ready for the first move. When Mitra took two steps towards him to get in range, he backpedaled away. The first slash came in low and was evaded by a slight shift. Next came a rush with a series of alternating strokes that met with the opposing blade.
"Good footwork, but your attacks are too predictable. And you're leaving yourself wide open," Omari advised.
Mitra was frustrated to hear this, as he wasn't sure what he did wrong. It didn't help that his master had little confidence in his success, either. He strained his imagination to devise an attack capable of sneaking past the infallible defenses. The second advance resulted in a swift block that not only pushed his saber away, but brought the other saber to his ribs before he recovered. Consecutive attempts all ended similarly. No matter what he came up with, his plans were cut short at every turn. He gave up when the blade was smacked out of his grip.
"You win. I guess I really can't hit you after all," he lamented.
Sad to see him discouraged, his master gave a reassuring pat on the shoulder. If anything, he'd say he was impressed so far. "Don't fret over it," he reassured. "You weren't half bad, really. Let's call it a day."
"Are you...going home?"
"I was planning on it. Why?"
"Can I walk with you?" the boy plead. "I don't want to go home to study yet."
"I don't see why not."
On their way to the harbor, Mitra played with his sword idly while listening to the continuation of the childhood stories. He practiced his form against imaginary opponents that he cut through on his way to the next. The disappointment of his defeat dissolved into his normal hyperactive enthusiasm.
The narrative progressed further into the later teens, when the threats were more tangible. There weren't any large scale battles in their history, but the few times he faced real combat sounded epic all the same. Enraged elementals and dynamic clashes of ensorcelled steel were legendary spectacles the likes of which the boy had never seen, although he was told this was the exception and not the rule.
Talk of battle warranted a description of the assortment of weapons that collected dust at home. Mention of exotic words for weapons of all corners of Phylos prompted interruption for clarification. Omari tried his best to convey the hook of the khopesh, the unique edge on his fauchard, and the absurdity of the shotel's crescent shape. They reached the wharf during his explanation of how his rapier could penetrate steel.
Mere description was a tantalizing teaser for the real thing. It was all too exciting to part ways so soon. Perhaps it was bold of Mitra to impose, but nothing was preferable to this. When they arrived at the jackal's home, he mustered the courage to ask, "Can you show them to me? Please? They all sound so awesome!"
Company was a welcome change to the master's solitary lifestyle, so he nodded in agreement without a second thought. "Yes, but you'll regret it if you do anything stupid, got it? Come on inside."
Omari lead the way upstairs to where most of the pieces were displayed on mounts and stands, both armor and weapons alike. The list of sword types from earlier were clarified first hand. Curved blades like the scimitar and kopis were most common among them. They were taken down one by one to be handled with an in depth analysis of the difference in the construction and style.
The weight of steel gave a sense of power when wielding them. Mitra found it awkward to swing at first because of it, but the lighter blades suited him well. He soaked up all the knowledge he was given and thought about which ones were his favorites. This was such a sublime pleasure it made up for his futile defeat and sore joints. He could hardly contain himself. "I can't believe you have so many! Where did you get them all?"
"A few of these we acquired when we were in the guard, the rest were either gifts from our families or ones we found for cheap. I thought about selling some of them, but they're about all I have."
"That's right, you skipped the part of your story where you learned how to fight and joined the guard."
"Ah, well. All of that trouble we found brought us a lot of pressure from our parents to straighten up, your grandfather especially. We were forced to train under our master as punishment for our mischief and to impart some discipline on us. Then, when we entered adulthood, Rakesh was made to choose between the university or the guard. He chose the guard. I went with him," Omari elaborated in his morose monotone, despite having a brightness in his voice a moment ago.
"Were you forced to as well?"
Omari paused, then said,"No. I didn't want him to be alone. Or maybe I didn't want to be alone. Either way, he's the reason why."
The shift in mood was palpable even for the naive youth. He ceased his playing and looked up with concern. Jealousy of their friendship and guilt over asking about it made his stomach sink. It was best not to pry any further, he thought. "You two must be really good friends," he said to break the silence.
"We were. You know that one you're holding was his," Omari pointed out to steer the conversation back to the present. "If you like it, maybe I'll let you use it outside sometime."
"Wow, can I? That would be amazing!" Mitra boomed, bouncing from overflowing joy.
"Yes, just be careful with it while you're in my house," his master cautioned. He gently pet between the boy's ears to soothe him and held the flat of the blade. "I'll be right back, I'm going to change out of these sweaty clothes."
The implication of nudity proved somehow more tantalizing than playing with swords. Thin folding screens were all that separated the privacy of the bedroom from the rest of the upper floor. Mitra's heart pounded. Any moment now, Omari would be removing his clothes. A moist, ripe smelling loincloth was sure to be included, exposing the parts that remained a mystery to flop around briefly before being wrapped in a fresh one. He wasn't sure, but peeping through the opening in the screen from the other side of the room might give a glimpse of what Omari's genitals looked like. An opportunity to sate his curiosity like this wasn't guaranteed to come along again, and he didn't want to regret not taking it. The stigma of spying on someone undressing was all that made him hesitate, but he had little time to spare.
Better judgment was no rival for pubescent desire. Holding his breath, he crept over to take a peek around the barrier. The layout of the room was in his favor, granting a spectacular side view of a penis much thicker than his own. Its girth was substantial enough to play with between his closed fingers, he thought. He could have stared much longer and basked in heated arousal if not for it being covered up so painfully soon. When Omari turned to look in his direction, he backed away in a panic. His already racing pulse thrummed harder when he tripped over the armor stand and toppled it. Armor pieces bounced off the floor in a cacophony of clanging metal. It occurred to him that he had to face the consequences of his backfired idea. Fear of the worst, the end of his training, was the dominant speculation. It depended on whether or not he was seen peeking, he thought. The disgruntled gaze bearing down on him did not bode well. "I'm sorry, Master! It was an accident!" he apologized pre-emptively.
"What the hell? I told you to be careful!" Omari barked.
"I lost my balance with the sword and fell into it," Mitra lied.
"Don't act dumb! I knew what you were doing. You were spying on me."
Truth was brought to light. He was caught red handed and backed into a corner. Several things were at stake, not the least of which was Master's opinion of him. Shortsighted as it were to act without thinking of how much trouble he'd be in, now he had to deal with it. The only option was to prostrate himself and beg for forgiveness. "Okay I'm really sorry! I was just... Please, just don't stop being my master. And please don't tell my father what happened! I'll do anything you ask me to! I'd do anything to train under you!"
Innocent and natural curiosity was nothing to be ashamed of from the jackal's perspective, but submissive groveling gave him insidious ideas. Doubt was erased from suspicions of the boy's crush. Holding all the power allowed him to use the submission to his amusement. He knew Mitra would do anything he required. A peek in return would be appropriate retribution and maybe teach a lesson about humility. However, the real reason for his devised 'punishment' was to see a cute boy cock. Whether his lust arose from the likeness to his former lover or something as simple as solitude driving him ravenous for a hot young body, he wanted it either way. So, he decided to be opportunistic as well. "I'll let it go," he said. "But you should undress in front of me now."
At first, Mitra was alarmed at the idea of exposing himself fully for the first time. The difference in their sizes was a cause for concern; whether his boyhood measured up to 'normal' remained a mystery. He wasn't sure if this was a legitimate price for his deed, or if Omari had the same desire. Overcoming his fear was worth compliance, but it also forged a mutual interest of secrecy. What happened in this room was bound to stay in it. The private setting, as opposed to the other day at the beach, also made stripping less uncomfortable. He looked down at the bulge below his waist and back up at Omari.
Determined to appease his master, he agreed. He methodically lifted the peplos over his head and dropped it, followed by his chiton, stalling to psych himself up for the last article. He pulled down his underwear to his ankles and stood straight to display his goods. His penis was small and stubby, its head and foreskin making up most of the visible length. Extra fluff around his middle, like his thighs and butt, gave a soft appearance. He awaited approval as he was inspected.
Omari masked his intense gratification over an ideal body, the spitting image of his lover at the age they were experimenting with each other. Instinct dictated he hide his feelings, but it was too late to care about that now. He was past the point of no return. If the boy was offering himself, he planned to revel in it. "See, that wasn't so bad. You know undressing around your companions is considered ordinary here."
"I know that. I'm just not used to it," the nervous panda confessed. The sense of being gawked at intently kept him from making continuous eye contact. He considered broaching the subject of his size, but he was too flustered to form the words. At least master seemed satisfied, which was a boost to his confidence. It was even kind of fun to share an intimate moment together. He was about to pull up his underwear when he was given further instruction.
"Before you get dressed, pick up the mess you made," Omari ordered. "Consider it extra training to get used to it."
Without protest, Mitra gathered the gauntlets and pauldrons strewn about the room. Each time the boy bent over to collect a piece, his master was allowed to take in the view of a round, chubby rear protruding towards him. Omari was only able to stifle his arousal for so long, however, and casually plopped to the floor to hide the tent he was pitching. Sitting hunched over made his erection parallel with his thigh. He slipped his hand under the flap of his loincloth to pleasure himself discreetly while his student faced away. Once the armor display was intact, he permitted them to get dressed.
"I'd better go home before I get in trouble for staying out too long," Mitra said while he donned his final layer. Eager as he was to be free of the tension and sort through his emotions, this was the truth.
Unable to stand up without revealing his state of arousal, Omari thought it appropriate to part ways as well. "Why don't you bring your saber home? Think you can remember to bring it with you next time?"
"Oh yes! Thank you, Master!" Mitra cheered and rushed downstairs to retrieve his prize before he heard all the jackal had to say.
"Meet me at the shrine in two days! And don't forget to practice your footwork!" Omari yelled.
"I will! Goodnight, Master!"
When the door slammed shut, Omari breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back. Thoughts of what he wished to do to that pristine body filled his mind. Today's events were merely the precursor for bringing their relationship to another level. It was precedent for all other excuses for nudity. Looking was sure to pave the way for touching, and he was sure to seize the opportunities for that to happen. Mitra was obedient, eager to please, curious, and daring, a perfect mixture of traits for subjecting to sexual pleasure.
In the meantime, he had to sate his irrepressible desire. He practically tore off his loincloth and vigorously tugged on his rigid cock to the idea of training his student to be doing this for him, and doing the same in return. Being referred to as Master and being treated as such was a bit embarrassing at first, but now it was a turn on. Having someone looking up to him, who valued his knowledge, wisdom, and experience, who respected him, was empowering. Someone who would take his length in either end without question and love every second. Discovering pleasure for the first time intensified their emotions. He'd crave that high and let him do whatever he wanted as much as he wanted.
He remembered what it was like when he and Rakesh started incidentally seeing each other in the nude. Rakesh's curiosity and forwardness led to them lining up to compare sizes after the first few instances, which only escalated from there. Nothing in life came close to the fun he had in those days. That joy was within his grasp again. He pictured Mitra kissing, cuddling, sucking, and humping him. Years of longing culminated into release, spreading his seed across the floor. Soon, he thought, he would be teaching more than swordplay.
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