Whitey - 9

The Ten Companions # 2

May 29, 2026

This is an adult gay story if you aren’t an adult or “gay” isn’t your thing, you’d better look for something else to entertain you.🔞 Cheers, Blake

One last thing before we get down to business. I have a special summer offer valid until June 15th: 30% off the annual subscription(about $30). If you’re already a subscriber and paid full price, I hear you. If you wish, contact me and we can work out a solution, because I’m nice like that. Cheers Blake

If you haven’t read the previous chapter yet I strongly recommend you to do that!

The story so far (spoilers):

Once upon a time… The idyllic life of Whitey, prince of White Swallow, comes to an abrupt end when King Hardon invades his kingdom and kills his beloved father. years later, the king’s mirror reveals to him that there is someone more handsome than himself: the slave prince in the stables. The two men meet, and an irrepressible attraction seems to win over the hatred they feel for each other. The king must find a permanent solution: kill the prince without angering the populace. Whitey befriends Goldween, the king’s cousin and Master Groomer. The friendship is sincere, but the prince is unaware that the king has ordered Goldween to take him for a ride in the countryside and kill him away from the prying eyes of the people. But on the day, instead of killing him Goldween declares his love to the prince and the two men make love on the lake shore. Goldween tells Whitey what the real purpose of their ride was and explains to him that he can’t return to White Swallow, sending him instead on a long journey to safety. Whitey walks for three days, seeking shelter wherever he can. Finally, he reaches what appears to be a camp. There, hidden among the trees, he witnesses two men having sex. Whitey is spotted and introduced to the men of the camp, who feed him and explain who they are. Later, around the campfire, a story begins to be told. The story revolves around the devil, bored by the pious behaviour of the locals and his demands: ten men to fulfill his desires. But the devil hasn’t met Merlin yet...

As Edward’s story unfolded, Whitey realized the same grunts and moans he was describing were occurring around the fire in a strange juxtaposition of tale and reality.

He looked toward Winfred, seeing his friend spasm as a flow of semen lifted from his cock. Fjord had leaned over scooping up the cream with his hand, he brought it to his lips, and licked some. Then he wrapped the buttered hand around his own rod and began to tug at it.

Whitey’s shaft was hard and throbbing: Omar’s head and neck adjustment against it were just as good as any rubbing. Whitey noticed that Omar had also lifted his robe and was gently stroking his imposing mast, almost absentmindedly.

__Once the devil and his men emerged from their pleasant slumber, he invited them to follow him to the warm pool where they washed, chatted, and laughed; for Demon was a funny devil.

The days passed, each one filled with increasingly elaborate erotic sessions; it seemed the devil had an insatiable appetite, and that suited the men just fine.

But Demon hadn’t forgotten: he knew that if the Lord had lied, it had to be because the tenth man was something special. He couldn’t wait.

Meanwhile, Merlin remained secluded in the cellar hidden in the castle’s dungeons. Only the Lord’s most faithful soldier knew where he was, bringing him food and water.

During those long days, Merlin had time to ponder; he thought back to his childhood, when he counted fairies and forest spirits among his friends, swearing he could talk to them. His parents told him to stop that nonsense, that it was old superstition and the new God didn’t approve of it. But Merlin wouldn’t listen. Then, as he grew older, he realized there was something else he really enjoyed that the new God disapproved of: he liked the sensations he got from touching himself, and he liked touching his friends even better. They let him do, and despite their doubts, they enjoyed it too. But then someone said something, parents complained, hands were raised and fists clenched. His parents begged him to say it was all lies and they’d found him a girl to prove so. But he couldn’t pretend; the fairies wouldn’t like that. And so his parents told him to leave and never come back.

He left with nothing, only the clothes he wore, his beauty, and the fairies by his side.

They told him where to stop, where to build a shelter, how to survive in the wilderness. And he thanked them by spilling his seed, which was something he loved doing anyway. Then one day a merchant saw him walking along the way to Aberglide. At the sight of that handsome young man, the merchant, who had never slept with men before, asked Merlin to take him in his mouth. “I’ll give you five shillings,” he said almost pleadingly. And Merlin said yes, because he wanted to, he would have done it even for free: the merchant wasn’t much, but he was better than his hand. When they both came, Merlin made sure the seed he hadn’t swallowed was scattered on the ground for the fairies. The next day he went to the same place, not far from his hut, and someone else arrived, a man his age, handsome. He asked Merlin to piss on him “I’ll give you fifteen shillings,” the handsome man had offered, and Merlin said yes, because he wanted to, he had always wondered what it would feel like. Until then he had only pissed on himself. Within a few days, Merlin had more money than he could spend, and set off for the nearest town where no one knew him. The townsfolk were struck by his exceptional beauty, even the shoemaker’s son, who invited him to the back of the room and when they reemerged, gifted him with a beautiful pair of boots.

With the money, he bought food, clothes and tools, but also gifts for the fairies and the forest spirits, because they were his friends and they deserved them.

And then the Lord arrived, and once again his life was turned upside down. He had come with his soldiers and a cruel look in his eyes. They forced him to follow them, without saying why. Until he found himself in that cell, underground, with no light but that of a single candle. The Lord, a handsome man, came to visit him, and Merlin knew what would follow. “This has never happened to me,” the Lord said as he entered Merlin with nervous urgency. “I have never laid with a man before,” he repeated as he put his stockings back on after his seed had been spilled. A confession Merlin had heard so many times before! Then, after the first visit, the Lord had disappeared; it had been days and his only contact with the rest of the world had been the man placing the food tray under the door gap.

And then one morning, or at least Merlin thought it was morning, he heard a commotion in the corridor leading to his prison, followed by banging on the door, which was quickly rammed down. More men, men he had never seen before, entered the cell and told him to follow them, still with no explanation.

They led him out of the town, passersby crossed themselves as the small procession advanced, the houses began to fade away, leaving room to fields and woods. As they passed an oak tree, Merlin noticed a fairy hiding in its shadow and immediately felt better.

Until they reached a pond that smelled of rotten eggs with wisps of steam raising from its warm water. Merlin had never seen anything like it.

“Sir! Sir, we have come with what you asked for!” one of the men who had escorted him shouted into the air.

There was no need to shout again for someone appeared at the threshold of a cave.

Merlin looked up in that direction: a fair-haired figure was leading a group of men, all naked, which surprised him. They came closer, their leader staring intently at him until he stopped by a rounded boulder.

Something hit him the moment they stood in front of each other, something that for the rest of his long life, Merlin could only describe as a jolt. His entire being was shaken; instantly, he knew there would be a clear divide between before and after that moment. And he knew the same was true for the man staring back at him.

Those pale blue eyes, the color of crystal water on pebbles, were drinking him in. But who was this mysterious stranger?

Merlin had seen depictions of angels; he had to be one, surely. But what about those two small horns, those sensual lips, and the confidence he carried like a shield? And Merlin couldn’t help but admire the hardness between the stranger’s legs, an imposing mast rising in the space between them. - No, this is no angel- he thought.

The devil noticed something too: the black fabric of the newcomer’s tunic was rising right where he knew his manhood was. He understood why the Lord had wanted to keep him all to himself. Those hazel eyes, like the autumn sun, the man’s face held the charm of innocence and the promise of sin, and he knew that beneath that tunic was a body that would bring that promise to life.

The devil reached out and pulled Merlin closer to him, and they kissed. A kiss that transported them far away, to a world of fire and honey, away from that foul-smelling pond. But for those who witnessed that kiss, it seemed all very real and present. Some felt aroused by the hunger they saw in those lips, by the embrace between those two bodies. Some felt outraged at the sight of the devil’s rod rubbing against Merlin’s groin. Some, the most surprised, felt both.

“Who are you?” the devil asked when he caught his breath.

“I’m Merlin; you?”

“Demon, just call me Demon.”

“Demon; I like that.”

It seemed that only then did the devil remember the rest of his crew: the men who had entertained him during the previous days, now standing around him in a circle. What to do with them? Now that Merlin had cast his spell, they were no longer of any use to him. He raised his hand and, just as he had done with the Lord, whose mortal rock stood at his feet, prepared to turn them to stone.

But Merlin, he didn’t know how, knew what the devil was about to do. He placed a hand on his forearm and stopped him.

“There’s no need for that Demon, they’ve done nothing wrong, don’t let your actions speak ill of you.”

The devil would never have accepted such insolence, but it came from Merlin, and the Devil understood. He understood that for most of his existence, he had lived as a caricature of himself, a pawn moved by someone else’s will.

But what to do? After all, he had a reputation to uphold.

He clapped his hands, and nine stones appeared where the men had stood.

The crowd gasped at the devil’s cruelty: those poor men what had he done to them!

And then something happened: the men broke out from each rock, each man the same as he was before he was turned to stone, yet seeming taller, as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. And each man sporting a pair of tiny horns.

“You may go. These rocks represent your shame; you are free of it now.” Demon said pointing at what remained of the stones: nine tall, shapeless slabs.

Then the devil looked at the small crowd.

“Do not look at me when you speak of evil, look at your own actions. It is time you welcomed these men back into your community.”

With that, he took Merlin’s hand and led him to the cave.

They entered the warm pool where Merlin could finally wash after the days spent in the cellar. His dark hair lay flat on his head, his beard softening in the heat. Demon sparkled, the candlelight catching the drops in his wet blond curls.

They kissed again, their bodies half floating in the water, their masts swaying, rubbing, and hardening against one other.