The Surrogate

By Ann Somerville

'The Surrogate' tells the story of Nikolas as he is swept up into a dark world of slavery and abuse, where he might be the only hope of those trapped for a lifetime serving the needs of an evil and rapacious god.
This story includes graphic depictions of rape and torture. Definitely not for the faint-hearted. 'Reincarnate' (included in this volume) is the sequel to 'The Surrogate'.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann Somerville
• Release date: Apr 22, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452347318

Ann Somerville

Ann Somerville is white, Australian, heterosexual, cisgendered. She/her.

Book preview

The Surrogate

And, a sequel

Reincarnate

Ann Somerville

These stories are a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

The Surrogate Copyright © 2004 by Ann Somerville

Reincarnate Copyright © 2004 by Ann Somerville

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For more information please visit my website at http://logophilos.net

Smashwords Edition 1, April 2010

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Published by Ann Somerville

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The Surrogate

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Name?

I resisted the urge to sigh. Nikolas Ekinze. The same as it was yesterday.

The tasking master looked up. That cheeky mouth of yours won’t get you work, boy. Still looking for locksmithing work?

Any metal working, or jewellery, silversmithing. Same thing I’ve told the man every day for three weeks.

Hmmm. Nothing along those lines. What a surprise. Won’t work in the mines?

Not unless I’m actually starving to death, no. I was pretty near the end of my funds, but the mines would mean a short and unpleasant life for someone of my height and build. But I’ll do anything else.

"There is nothing else, boy. We’ve got locksmiths and metal workers coming out of our ears. Every journeyman tinsmith, silversmith and clockmaker from Jendon is here in Egin. We can take our pick. He looked me up and down. If you had a bit more flesh on you, there’s a stable wanting someone to shift shit. But you’d pass out in half a day."

I can do it, I said eagerly. I’ve mucked out stables before.

But the tasking master shook his head. We’ve got strong lads aplenty, with more brawn and none of your smart mouth. There’s nothing here today. Come back tomorrow.

Same story, every day. My previous job had lasted for a month, working in a forge, but the thing caught fire and burned down, killing the blacksmith and two of his men. I escaped with the clothes on my back, and my coin purse in my pocket. Since then, I’d been living on what I could earn casually—or beg—and hoping for work that wouldn’t kill or cripple me. But the tasking master was right—I was nothing special in a city full of men driven from their villages by the drought in our land. Egin port was a magnet for those looking for something, anything, to sustain themselves and their families back home. I had only myself to support, so I was one of the lucky ones, I guess. But with hunger gnawing at my stomach, and the prospect of trying to make a silver coin and three copper ones last me for lodging and food until I could get work, I didn’t feel very lucky.

I walked out of the work hall, wondering if I should just take my chances and go back home. But the drought still continued, and even if the rains came, it would be half a year before there were crops and food and any use for a twenty-three year old male with a minor Talent and a skill that only people with money and leisure needed. Locks weren’t much use when you had nothing to preserve.

Are you looking for work?

I stopped and turned to the source of the voice. It was a tall man, dressed all in unrelieved black, his hair covered by a cloak hood, and his eyes hidden in its shadow. Yes, I am. Do you need someone? I’m an excellent locksmith....

I have no need of your skills. I realised the man was accompanied by two guards from the temple of Paon. That explained the dark clothing and the arrogant air, I thought. My name is Jaime. I have work for up to a year, if you want it.

Doing what?

But Jaime shook his head. I can’t tell you that here, or now. Come to the temple in an hour. If you’re not there, the offer is gone.

And then he walked away, the two guards a pace behind him. I stood there with my mouth slightly open in surprise. What kind of work could need my presence but not my skill? Did they need someone to polish their bloody candlesticks?

Even though I was desperate, I hesitated a little. Paon was a dark god worshipped throughout the land of Gidin, though not in my own where we held the Gidinian gods in contempt. But here, the people feared three deities—Neku, goddess of the moon, Fri, god of the sky and the sun, and Paon, the god of the earth and all beneath it. Paon was held to be the most powerful, and the most vengeful—from him, the Gidinians believed, all punishment, all fertility, all fortune and all prosperity came. He was a greedy god, demanding sacrifices, monetary offerings and obedience. His priests wore nothing but black robes, the temple guards were all decked out in darkened bronze, crow feathers and black woollen tunics. I didn’t like the idea of spending an hour in his temple, let alone a year.

But still, Paon was a pagan deity with no power over those who did not believe in him, and a temple was at least not a coal or copper mine. I could talk to this Jaime, and maybe beg a little food from him as compensation for taking the trouble to come to him. I worked with silver because I had a silver tongue, I’d been told more than once, and it was true I’d spun out my meagre savings as much by charm as frugality. I wasn’t too proud to beg from this mysterious man.

The temple was set in a huge walled area right in the middle of the city, not far from the palace and nearly twice its size. I’d honestly never thought to set foot in either building, and I couldn’t hold back a shiver as I walked up the red marble steps to the imposing column fronted entrance. Giving Jaime’s name gave me admittance, and I was told rather rudely to wait in an antechamber that overlooked the main hall of worship, whose purpose seemed to be to impress on any supplicant just how unworthy and small they were in comparison to Paon’s magnificence. The hall was full of the faithful, bowing and praying and chanting, and the air was thick with the scent of sickly incense and burned, dead things sacrifice to the god.

I was made to wait longer than I thought was polite or necessary, and Jaime, when he came to collect me, didn’t explain or apologise, which didn’t improve my temper. Only the growling in my stomach made me stay. I thought I had no pride left—it seemed there was a trickle in me after all.

He took me through long corridors and down a series of steps to a rather dark and small room—I tried to resist the temptation to call it a cell, but that’s what it felt like. There was a table and two chairs, and I was ordered to sit on one. He took the other. I noticed he still didn’t remove his hood. The only light was from a high window, so all I could really see clearly were his hands, and a small area of chin. The rest was in shadow. What is your name?

Nikolas. I waited to see if he wanted more—apparently not. What do you need someone to do?

Not yet. Are you in good health? How long since you came from Jendon?

I’m fit. Six months.

Family? Attachments? Wife? Lover?

Father and brothers. No one else.

He nodded. Are you a virgin?

"Am I what?"

He tilted his head and for the first time, I could see dark, cold eyes looking back at me. Answer the question. I will pay you for your time this morning. Three silver pieces.

I swallowed. That was a generous week’s pay for a skilled workman. No, I’m not a virgin.

Lain with women only, or with men?

Both, I admitted reluctantly. I’d got the impression that the Gidinians didn’t really like men sleeping with their own sex. Not that this stopped me finding partners for hurried fumblings behind inns, and none of them seemed to care whether the mouth or arse they were thrusting their cocks into belonged to a man or a woman. The sex and the occasional warm bed had been equally welcome.

Jaime didn’t seem to care though. I wish to determine that you are free from disease. One of our temple physicians will examine you. Remove your clothes.

Not on your bloody life.

He stood. Then leave, he said coldly, already walking to the door.

What about my money?

That was on the condition I got cooperation. Get out.

He had his hand on the door.

Wait. Three silver pieces.... Just an examination?

That’s all.

I started to undo my shirt, and he nodded. There was no other reaction. Once I was naked, and shivering a little in the cold, he walked around me, with no more apparent interest in me than in the table. You have had anal sex?

Yes.

Did you like it?

Yes. Look, I didn’t come here....

Be quiet and bend over. I glared at him. Do it or leave.

Was he just a pervert? Was this cheaper or more discreet than a brothel? Gritting my teeth, I obeyed, my balls crawling up inside me as I suffered his silent examination. At least it was only with his eyes.

Sit down.

As I did as I was told, he went to the door and spoke to someone outside it. In only a moment or two, the door opened and an elderly man carrying a small case, came in and bowed. Here, ensure he is fit, Jaime said, before leaving the room, and me with what I assumed was the temple physician.

The man spoke to me only to order me to open my mouth, tilt my head this way or that, raise my arms, stand, sit, bend over, cough and spread my legs. I yelled when he stuck something up my arse, but he didn’t react at all, except to take my balls in his hand and heft them as if checking they were correct weight. I’d already decided I was dealing with a couple of madmen here, and if the silver was not forthcoming, then I was going to report them to...to, well, whoever policed the bloody perverts in this cursed city.

Finally the old bastard was done, and without a word to me, he slipped out of the room. No one said I could dress, but then no one said I couldn’t, so I did, feeling violated and angry. I’m not ashamed of my body, far from it, but I like to have the choosing of who gets to look at it, and especially inside it. That physician had been lucky I’m not a man prone to violence because he’d come close to being punched when his nasty little probe went where I would suffer a cock, a finger or a tongue and nothing else—and that by invitation only.

I sat there, increasingly sure I was the victim of a hoax of some kind, some wealthy man getting his jollies from picking up unemployed men and pretending there was work for them. The temple thing must be an arrangement—maybe Jaime paid them to let him use their house of worship for his perversion.

Finally he returned and sat back down at the table. You’re suitable for our purposes....

And what purposes might they be? I said without any attempt to conceal my sarcasm. Do you enjoy seeing pretty boys being fingered? Watching through a spyhole, were you?

For what I need you for, your tongue is not required. Bridle it, or lose it.

You’re threatening me?

I’m stating a fact. We are being watched. You are being examined as we speak. Be quiet or be punished. Paon does not allow disrespect within these walls.

I nearly told him Paon be buggered but then I thought that was probably unwise. What exactly do you want me to do?

Not yet, he said, as before, and I nearly walked out at that point—except I really, really needed those coins. The work is for a year, here in the temple. It is physically light, you will be well-treated, fed and clothed. The pay is twenty silver pieces a week....

"Tw...twenty? Twenty silver pieces?"

At last I have your interest, he said with a sneer. Yes, twenty silver pieces, all good coin, per week, paid monthly. And if you stay for the full year, you will receive half a year’s wages as a bonus when you leave.

I stared. Who do I have to kill? I whispered.

His mouth curled in what might have been a smile, except there was no humour in it. No one. In return, you will live here and wear the collar and bracelet of the temple, although you may come and go as you please when your attendance for your duties are not required, provided you wear the symbols of your indenture to the temple. You will have no sexual congress with man or woman in that time, save as ordered....

What?

Save as ordered. And if you speak to anyone of the terms of your employment, or your duties, or disobey any order, you will be severely punished. Most severely.

You still haven’t told me what I need to do.

I can’t do that until I have your bond that you will enter into the contract.

I shook my head. Sorry. I’m not agreeing those terms until I know what you want me to do.

He looked me up and down. Nothing that you haven’t done before, I’m sure. Nothing that you would find displeasing.

Right. Sorry, thanks but no thanks. I’ve done what you asked, let that old fart play with my privates, and listened to your terms. Now pay me and let me go.

He pulled a purse from his belt, opened it and drew out three coins. He slapped them on the table. Take them and leave. Speak to no one of this morning’s doings or you will find it goes hard with you.

Don’t worry, you think I want to tell people I let two perverts get an eyeful of me?

He looked at me coolly. It is not I who let them do so for money. He stood and threw open the door. Get out. The guards will take you.

I stalked out. He didn’t follow me. The guards took me out of the temple without saying a word to me, and as I left, drawing a deep breath of relief to be out in the fresh air again, they took up position at the entrance, making it clear re-entry wasn’t an option.

The coins felt cold and dirty in my hand. If I hadn’t been desperate, and now very, very hungry indeed, I would have thrown them away. But instead, I swallowed my troublesome pride and broke one of the coins to buy a loaf of bread and a mug of beer, which I consumed sitting under a tree at the edge of the market square.

What in the names of the gods was all that about? The more I thought about it, the more I thought that the whole thing had to be for the benefit of the mysterious watchers, not for Jaime himself, whose distaste for the interview and for me himself was obvious. Part of me was wild with curiosity to know what the job would have been—the rest of me recoiled in revulsion from any idea of working there, when whatever the position was required an unhealthy obsession with my anus. I’d heard the temples in Gidin were dark and evil places—I hadn’t expected anything like this.

After eating the good fresh bread, and drinking the beer, I felt a lot better. It was easier to think and be cheerful when my belly was full, and the pervert’s coin didn’t seem so dirty any more. Now I easily had money for a week or even more, if I was careful and slept outdoors. The weather was still mild, though autumn had already started. Surely in a week, I could find something to do.

I spent the rest of the day going from market stall to market stall and then shop to shop, asking for work, food, help of any kind. A couple of stall holders gave me a little fruit, a piece of stale bread, most gave me an earful of abuse—I wasn’t the only beggar that day. I earned a copper coin helping a wine merchant move some barrels (and wish the stingy tasking master could have seen I was fit enough to do such work) but he had no more jobs for me, nor did he need someone further, since it was only that his lad was off on errands across the city. Still, I bore the place in mind—the lad would run more errands and if I made myself available and useful, one never knew, the merchant might decide I was handy to keep around.

A copper would buy me a frugal meal—two would buy me a better one and another mug of beer in an inn, and if I had to spend the night outside, I decided I would at least treat myself to a few hours indoors with company. Who knew? I might get lucky and get a better offer than sleeping up on a roof, surrounded by stray cats.

The inns was busy, and I wasn’t only the only man from Jendon there, nor even the most desperate looking. I gladly shared a table with two men from my homeland, and decided that in the spirit of comradeship, I could share a little of my good fortune and buy them a beer to go with their meal, for it was clear they could not afford drink as well as food. Thank you kindly, Nikolas, the older of the two, one Johan, said, saluting me with his mug. I keep telling myself that the hard times must end soon, but there is no end in sight.

We need the rain, his companion, Syros, said bitterly. The blessed rain which never comes, the clouds boil up but never give up their bounty.

Aye, it’s hard to watch. Harder to watch the young ones with their empty bellies and empty eyes, Johan said.

You have children?

Just the two. Two boys, ten and six. I send what I can back to them, but it’s never enough. I think it’d be easier to chop myself into little pieces and send that back for them to roast.

Well, you’d make a good meal or three, but you’d not last more than a fortnight, I said, making light of the grim remark. Come, don’t be talking like that. You’ve not thought of the mines?

Too old, Johan said.

And I’m too runtish, Syros added.

Well, I’m both too runtish and too tall. My back won’t take being bent over all day, not for six coppers. I’d be crippled in a month, and then I’d have no money nor work at all.

Syros nodded. That’s the sin of it. Johan and I are thinking of walking to Perikeg tomorrow—they say there’s work there, on farms, mending roofs and the like.

That’s a hundred miles, I said, aghast. Can you survive such a journey with no money or food?

Well, you see, that’s our difficulty, John said with an apologetic smile. But we thought we could beg our way there.

I thought privately they were unlikely to find any charity on the road when the city was so mean. We talked of home for a while, making our meals stretch and the beer last as long as we could. I looked at my purse with regret—I wanted another beer, but if I was going to be that profligate, I’d be better off squandering my health in the mines after all. At least they gave the miners free beer at the end of their shifts, though it did nothing more than replace the sweat the workers lost underground. A month in the mines left most men hollow wrecks. It was why there was always demand for workers there, when there was none anywhere else.

Well, time to find a warm place to sleep. You fellows have somewhere?

Aye, there’s a stable that lets us use the loft, provided we keep ourselves clean, and we keep a watch on the horses and for fire. I’d offer you a place, but I don’t want to annoy the stable master, Johan said regretfully.

Ah, never mind, I understand. But maybe when you’re gone, I’ll apply—which one is it? They named a small place to the western end of the market. I would try my luck tomorrow, if Johan and Syros really were leaving. Thanks for the tip.

Thanks for the beer. We may as well walk out together. You never know who’s about these days.

This was unfortunately true and one of the reasons I slept on roofs—the risked of being robbed was that much less. I also got the warmth from the stove chimneys too, so it wasn’t bad even though the ‘bed’ was hard. Since I had a little money, I would be able to get a bed in a boarding house, but I was saving that for when the weather got cold. For now, a roof was all I needed. I was used to it by now.

We walked down the street towards the market. No townsfolk carrying lamps, but lights from the windows of the inns revealed there were men everywhere sleeping in the shadows, or sitting eating a precious bit of meat or bread, seeking a little shelter. Some had blankets, most had not. I’d lost mine in the fire. I would need to buy or beg one soon.

What was that? Johan suddenly stopped.

What was what? I asked, confused. I heard nothing.

No, I heard it too, Syros said. A child, crying. Sound like she was in pain too.

I strained but could hear nothing over the sounds coming from the inns along the alley. Are you sure? Anyway, it’s probably coming from the inn....

No, it was a child, I’m sure, Johan said. I’m a father, I can’t let a child be hurt.

Well, let’s look, I said, though without a lantern, I wondered how we could even see this child, if such it was.

The side alley was almost completely dark. There’s no one here, I said. It was probably just a cat.

Aye, it probably was. Now, Nikolas. If you would hand over that purse of yours, we’ll be heading off.

Wha...? I stopped short as something sharp poked me in the sides, and then Syros’ hand untied my purse from my belt and lifted it from my pocket. I’m from Jendon too, you bastards! I bought you beer!

Yes, you did, and thank you again for that. Sorry about this, lad, but there’s them what need this more than you.

You.... But I never finished the oath, because something hit me from behind. I didn’t even remember falling to the ground.

~~~~~~~~

I woke with my cheek pressed against the cobbles, and my brain pounding in beat to my pulse. I tried to get up, but fell back down again with a groan, feeling like I wanted to be sick. Those bastards. Those bloody, thieving, cursed bastards. With a shaky hand, I confirmed what I already knew—they’d taken the purse, and even my poor, blunt knife, all I had to cut my bread when I could buy it. Which I couldn’t now.

I tried to get up again, and this time succeeded long enough to throw up. I crawled away from my mess, wiping my mouth on my sleeve, and knowing, even with my headache distracting me so much, that I was now in a desperate situation.

All I could do in the dark was sit against the wall and wait for the dawn. I slept badly because of the pain and the sickness, and when the first light hit, I was a sorry mess—smelling of vomit, my clothes filthy from the street, and there was a knot on the back of my head which felt the size of an egg. I spent a few minutes cursing the evil sons of bitches who’d done this to me, because I had no better occupation, but I knew I couldn’t sit there all day. I pulled myself up and dragged myself to the market square—there was a public well and a trough for horses and such as me, if we were quick and the watchmen didn’t see. I dunked my head and washed my face, before taking off my shirt and scrubbing it as best I could—I could do nothing about my pants because to walk naked in the streets of Egin was to invite a public flogging. I laid my wet shirt against the knot on the back of my head for a few moments, which helped, then rinsed it again and wrung it out. All I could do was to put it on wet, and let it dry on my body. It felt bloody cold and unpleasant, but at least I was decent, and had the semblance of cleanliness.

I rested on a stone seat, thoughtfully provided by the city fathers for the weary market goers, and considered my options, holding my aching head in my hands. I could try the work hall again, though I knew it would be barren. I could resort to theft as Johan and Syros had done, the lousy shits, but I still had that slight pride in myself that recoiled from thieving money, because to take from the poor was simply wrong, and to take from the rich was to invite being strangled in the central square. I couldn’t face the mines, not that day. Maybe the next.

Or there was the strange offer from the temple. I looked in the direction of the big, dark black and red building with its huge walls that could hold several villages within its area, and cursed the god in whose honour it existed. Had Paon arranged all this to manipulate me into accept Jaime’s work?

I knew, even as I tried desperately to think of another answer, that I was going to have to do it, even if it was only for a week or whatever the minimum time of employment was. Twenty silver pieces would go a long way, and this time, I could be a bit more cautious, hide the money other than on my person. He hadn’t said I had to work a whole year—only that if I did, I would be rich. I didn’t want to be rich. I just didn’t want to starve to death. Twenty silver pieces might even take me to Perikeg, if it was true there really was work there—but of course, that could have been a lie. I was now sure ‘Johan’ and ‘Syros’ weren’t their names, and now I thought about it, Johan was surely too old to have such young children as he claimed. All I could really be sure of was that they were from Jendon, or at least, their families were. There had been Jendonese living in Egin for generations, and for all I knew, my assailants had learned to fake a genuine accent simply by listening to all the incomers. I knew nothing at all, for certain, and if I complained to the watch, they would be sure to point this unpleasant fact out to me. The watch didn’t care about the safety of the Jendonese—only that we kept out of trouble.

The day was a-wasting, and if I wanted to seize this opportunity, unwelcome or not, I couldn’t risk that Jaime would find another candidate. I didn’t know what his criteria for recruitment were, but there were men aplenty to choose from, and I was nothing special, I knew. Reluctantly, I let my feet find their way to the temple, not sure if the nausea I was feeling was from being knocked out, or from revulsion at what I might be asked to do.

Jaime’s name didn’t produce the immediate response it had the previous day. In fact, it looked as if I was already too late—the guards told me I couldn’t enter the temple, and they made no move to send for the man. I argued for a little while, but there was clearly no point. Despairing, I turned away and stumbled down the marble stairs, back towards the city. There seemed little else to try but the mines, perhaps the penalty I had to pay for my stupid, trusting nature.

I jerked as my arm was taken. I turned and saw it was one of the temple guards. Come with me.

Let me go!

He did so immediately, rather to my surprise. Don’t you want to see Jaime?

Uh...yes. You just startled me. He went to take my arm again, but I pulled it away. Don’t.

I walked in front of him back to the temple, back up the long stairs, wondering why they couldn’t have just fetched Jaime while I was actually there, instead of making me and my poor head exert themselves so. I was led to the same small room as before, and told to sit.

Conscious I may be being watched again, I tried to sit up straight, and tugged my now damp rather than dripping shirt into a semblance of order, running my fingers through my unruly hair. The bastards had taken my comb—I ask you, who would steal a man’s comb? I had nothing but my shirt, my pants and my boots, and no one would have given me a copper for the lot even if I could have spared them to sell. I had lost my razor in the fire, and hadn’t shaved in three weeks. I knew I looked a complete vagabond. But I supposed I was one now.

No one came for me, and I began to lose my nerve. The stillness and cold of this room was oppressive, the light struggling to get in, as if Paon somehow could control the sunlight too. I was being fanciful, you might think, but let’s see you sit in that room for half an hour and see if you wouldn’t be fanciful too. The statues of the gods that had lined the halls and corridors I’d been led through were menacing, demonic, lit by torches even in the middle of the day. It seemed the temple had little use for natural light—the effect was hellish, to say the least.

At last the door opened and Jaime walked in. He didn’t sit. You wanted to see me?

Yes. I, uh...well, I wondered if the job was still available.

He wasn’t using the hood today, although he was wearing the cloak, but a scarf covered his hair and half his face. His cold eyes bored into me. Why?

Because I need the work.

You needed it yesterday, but you refused it.

Yes. Well....

My fingers drifted unconsciously to my belt, to where my purse would be tied if I still had one. He worked it out immediately. I see. You’ve been robbed. Injured also. I have no use for damaged goods.

He turned to leave. I’m not! I’ve got a bump on the head, but I can still work, I protested, desperation making me a little forceful. I swear, set me any task, anything, and I’ll do it. I need the work, I have no money at all.

He turned. And what would you do for money, Nikolas? It was the only time he had used my name. Would you kill a man?

No! Nor commit any crime, if that’s what you’re thinking of asking. But set me any honest task, any job of work, and I’ll do it, however harsh. I’m sorry if I offended you yesterday.

His lips curled in a sneer. No, you’re not. You still despise me as a pervert. That’s all right—I don’t think much of you either. The conditions are the same. Total obedience, continence and confidentiality. Fail in any of these, and you won’t live to spend your coin.

I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was utterly serious, and if I betrayed my bond, I would suffer just as his words promised. I understand. I am not to commit a crime?

Not in the strictest sense, though.... He caught himself, and I fancied I saw a look of pain briefly cross his face—what I could see of it anyway. You may find it distasteful, though most of your predecessors have managed for a few weeks at least.

I don’t mind dirt or hard work.

I’m sure, he said sardonically. For those are clean compared with what I offer. Do I have your bond? You will have to sign letters, and remain a minimum of two months. Leave before that, and you will get no coin. Leave and break our conditions, and you will wish you had never been born.

You have my word, you don’t have to keep threatening me—I’m broke, not stupid.

Very well. He moved behind the table and sat, his hands clasped in front of him so tight the knuckles showed white against his brown skin. This temple is blessed above all others devoted to our Lord Paon, because it is here that he has condescended to appear in human form. The God becomes incarnate here so that his seed may fertilise the pious women of this land. I nearly laughed in his face at such a ridiculous tale, but instead just nodded. The God Incarnate may not be touched by man or woman save in a particular manner, to allow the planting of his seed. He has decreed that he wishes that two comely men perform for him, to increase the potency of his seed, at the time when he chooses to bestow it on the faithful women of his followers.

Then I really did laugh. "You’re having me on. No, seriously—you’re telling me that two men have to fuck, so he can get off and impregnate a series of women? This is a joke, right?"

He just continued to stare at me, and if there was any humour in his eyes, I couldn’t see it. You are, as I told you yesterday, being watched, and I knew he was warning me for my own good, not his. "Hold your impious tongue. We have a sacred duty. I am the designated surrogate, and I select partners pleasing to our god. So yes, all you have to do to earn your twenty silver pieces a week, is to let me fuck you and pleasure you, once or twice a week. The rest of the time, any duties required of you will be of an exceedingly gentle kind which shouldn’t cause a fine fellow like yourself any difficulty. His voice dripped with scorn. Whores would be cheaper, of course, but I can’t be sure they would be free of disease. You will be required to remain free of illness or blemish for your time here. That is your guarantee that you will not suffer any physical harm."

"How...do you like doing this?"

Again the flash of pain, gone so fast, I barely saw it. The God commands, I am but a vessel to serve him. Your identity, your beliefs, your intelligence—or your approval—are completely unimportant. If the God commanded, I would fuck a dog. This is what you have agreed to.

Yes, it was. I thought being a thief was the lowest I could go—now I was nothing but a whore to serve one master. All right.

Very well. The God does not require my service for two days, fortunately—that will allow your head to heal. Wait here.

Numb with disbelief, I did as I was told. After all, I had just agreed to sell my body for two months, what was a little obedience? In the time I was left alone, I thought about the story I’d been told. Did these people honestly believe they had a god living in this temple? Did the women of this land really think that letting some man pretending to be a god screw them, would bring them luck

Reviews for The Surrogate

[shanna_mcconnell · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is a wonderful story about the strength of the human spirit and even if life takes you to places you never wanted to go, you'll end up just where you need to be. The characters are wonderfully complex and very human. I loved how there were no easy answers and no quick fixes. The journey that these 3 men took was long and painful and Somerville held nothing back. This is a powerful book but it's very dark and very raw. I expect nothing less than great things from Somerville and she has yet to let me down. This is another exceptional novel from her.

[Rosinanta · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

There are two books. The firste one has just 170 pages and is full of gore, sex, abuse and mental struggle. But its outstanding.

[Estarianne · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I love Ann Somerville, she is one of the few m/m authors with a real talent for fantasy. However, triads are really not my thing, and I think this one dragged a bit trying to clean up the obvious issues (although she doesn't just leave them hanging out there, which I appreciate!). I liked the first book more than the second.