The Two Hundredth and Forty Second of One Thousand and One Nights – by Amalaric

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Sir!! You are too kind…the lad with the funny ears is just so perfect for nefarious treatment! Don’t know what it is exactly- perhaps that look of complete masculinity, self-possession without a shred of narcissism (well, one can fantasize!! I am, after all, only describing a look), easy, cat-like fitness, innocence beneath the swagger as if there were a little boy just under the surface of all those hard muscles, hairy pits, shadow on his square jaw…and pelt below the belt… Playful and rambunctious and even rowdy when the mood strikes him, coltishly undisciplined…stuff like that. He could be a lonely cowboy putting the best face on things, or the hard-working son of a Midwestern wheat farmer. Maybe a young construction worker at his first real job looking for a girl to settle down with.

Whatever the case, misfortune rides his bare back like one of the Apocalyptic Horsemen; destined for detainment, he is taken down against his will; innocence he casually denied with a shrug or blush the day before, now a precious commodity lost forever. Wife or girlfriend, maybe even a young son or daughter…dimming dreams impossibly far away as he cries himself to sleep in his steel cage to the accompaniment of clanking chain hoping, in the dregs of spurious pride, that no one sees or hears. His lot has suddenly become pain- casually stripped for inspection, display, and hard use, his captive coiled young strength commanded for the amusement of others. Young, fit, and still full of life, his bitter road will be a very long one…

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