"The honor is mine," Cortin replied. "Are there any formalities that need to be taken care of?"
"I'll handle those when we finish here," Medart said. "His release from service, back pay and allowances—but it'll be up to you to notify his clan and make arrangements for his tattoo."
"When we're done here, as you say." Cortin turned to her new sworn man. "To give you a status recognized here, I'm commissioning you a Royal Enforcement Service officer. Now, would you like to test your theory?"
"Very much, Thakur." Keith paused, then continued apologetically. "I'm afraid I don't know how, though. One of our strongest customs forbids any same-sex physical intimacy. Since it seems yours doesn't, that no longer applies to me, of course—but the fact remains that I have no such experience."
Cortin chuckled. "That can be remedied easily enough, if you decide you want to, but for your present purposes you don't need experience. All you have to do is take hold of him, snugly enough to provide a friction surface but not tight. The eroticine will make him take care of the rest."
"That sounds simple enough." Keith reached for the prisoner.
He grasped slippery flesh, pleased when the man winced and tried to pull away. That should be a good sign. He followed the flinch, keeping the snug hold his thakur had recommended—and she was right, the prisoner began pumping, almost immediately accompanied by cursing and moans. For a bit, Keith remained still, getting used to the feel and rhythm. This was all he had to do, she'd said, and Keith was sure it would have the desired effect—but she wanted the man to suffer as much as a human could. Sure that there had to be a way to elicit more pain on the way to its peak, he tried modifying his grip, going with the prisoner's movements, kneading gently at the end of each thrust.
He was rewarded when moans grew louder and curses became incoherent cries. He wanted to turn, see if his thakur was pleased, but he didn't allow himself the distraction, contenting himself instead with a brief smile. He was surprised at the ease with which he'd been able to make even this sort of sexual contact with another man, but his primary emotion on that subject was gratitude; since his thakur clearly had no objection to man-loving, even seemed to actively approve, he had to do so as well, and it was kind of the gods to make such a drastic change so easy for him.
He was less surprised, though still a bit so, by his unexpected enjoyment of a painmaster's role, since Sandeman did have some circumstances where such was appropriate, though it had no professionals. That was a fortunate turn, since it saved him another adaptation—though if he were to serve his thakur properly in this capacity, he really ought to get some training; a true painmaster should be getting at least some screams by this time.
The prisoner's movements became faster, more urgent, and Keith smiled again. A few more seconds … yes, good! The prisoner convulsed, thrashing as wildly as his bonds would permit, but warrior reflexes let Keith keep his grip while the man climaxed in a prolonged series of spasms, his screams eloquent testimony to his agony. Keith felt a sense of accomplishment at that, a deep pleasure that didn't end even when the climax was over, the flesh in his hands softened slightly, and the prisoner sagged, going limp but kept from fainting by the algetin.