By Rob Loveboy
Edits by James FitzHugh
&
Len Homber
(all copyrights reserved)
The Boys of St. Vladimir’s Orphanage
More men would arrive the following day. The road leading to the mansion and its circular driveway was lined with very expensive vehicles. An old school bus painted blue with “St. Vladimir’s Orphanage plastered on both sides of the bus left no doubt where the dozen other boys originated from. Father Murphy, the bus driver, was handed a thick envelope by Roberts, a generous donation to the well known and respected church administered institution for homeless boys beyond the likely age of adoption.
The boys seemed to know the men well who hugged them in welcome. Some were given gifts of nice clothing, boxes of candy and video games that excited most of the boys who couldn’t wait to sit on the floor and begin playing in front of three large-screened TVs. The men, meanwhile, reacquainted themselves over cocktails and talked business almost forgetting about the harem of young cock at their disposal.
Off the parlor and through the French doors leading to the outdoors was a large swimming pool where many of the kids stripped naked to frolic and enjoy the pool toys. A few of the men politely excused themselves, shed their clothes and joined the happy boys. They had had enough with the business talk in the past weeks and wanted to begin their monthly erotic weekend.
The latest arrivals consisted of three senators, a movie star from the hit movie, “Star Galaxy,” that some of the boys were gaga over, another was a State Appellate Court judge and several powerful and well known lawyers. There were also a few CEO’s of household name retail outlets. Governor Roberts always joked that there was enough power in his home to bring down a government. Even the popular entertainers in attendance had a strong voice among their millions of followers.
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* * *
Every effort was taken to ensure the privacy of the party. Governor Roberts ensured no house-staff members were on the grounds during his sex parties. Even the ones who resided in the servant’s quarters in the mansion were told to find other accommodation, often being given money to travel to visit loved ones far away. Meals were catered by a local company owned by one of the guests. The same company supplied meals to airlines worldwide. The catering staff was kept to a minimum and confined to the kitchen and dining room with the meals provided in buffet style. There were no white gloved, starched collared waiters to fuss after these important men. Any guests with personal body guards were instructed to leave them at home. Most were encouraged to think his employer was keeping a mistress under wraps somewhere and were thankful for the paid time off. The governors own security detail monitored the tall perimeter fence line never having the need to come near the mansion.
The van and bus loads of boys might have been questioned had the governor not let it be known that he and the other men of high esteem were sponsoring underprivileged kids for a one on one mentorship program learning about government. Of course, it was all bullshit but it made a good cover story and, so long as he was never questioned, it didn’t matter.
Shit and cum stained bedding was the responsibility of the room holder to place in plastic laundry bags along with the soiled towels for an outside service to pick up and clean early Monday morning. All plastic bags were temporarily stored at the shipping/receiving area of the mansion. Once the evidence once disposed of, the maids would remake the beds with fresh linen being none the wiser as to why the beds were stripped. They were simply glad that they didn’t have to do it after those particular paid time-off weekends. They knew that the governor often entertained important men and women from around the world who never cleaned up after themselves in such a manner.
* * *
Most of the men eventually ended up frolicking in the pool naked playing water-polo, men against boys, as others lay naked on lounge chairs admiring the scenery in and out of the pool. Several boys were tossing hoops with their genitals flopping around in the breeze and this was truly a sight to behold. No two boys exhibited the same genitalia, some small, others large, an assortment displayed at every phase of puberty. It was a veritable smorgasbord of delectable delights.
* * *
Captain Mike Wilson, 32, had worked for the Executive Protection Agency for ten years and was shift supervisor of the four armed officers patrolling the expansive area of the governor’s mansion. The 12 hour shift was boring for the most part. Keeping his night guards awake and on their toes patrolling their posts at the north, south, east and west perimeter fences was about the only challenge of the job in the three years since he’d been promoted to the governor’s mansion detail.
Mike struggled to make ends meet every month although he earned a decent salary. He had triplet toddlers and a wife to support who, it seemed, couldn’t resist a sale on anything. Maggie didn’t spend money on herself; it was stuff for the kids and their modest home that was mortgaged to the hilt. He also had another year of hefty payments on his Suburban that he was behind on. It seemed he was much richer before the boys had come along. He loved his sons to death but, where Maggie was jubilant at the news of triplets, he felt cursed. There would be no talk of family planning for the future because the future had been dumped on him.
The main gate guard house served as a break room that was nicely equipped with a microwave oven, toaster, fridge and comfy chairs to snooze in while on break. Actually, the only thing missing in this turn-of-the-century guard house where the gate keeper and his family once lived was running water. An outhouse, discretely hidden, around the back kept remarkably spotless and odor free served the bodily function purposes.
Mike had a stressful day at home fielding two calls. One was from his telephone company threatening to cut off his house telephone and the other from his cable provider threatening to cut his cable television. He assured each that he was being paid the following Friday and promised to pay in full the three month arrears on both accounts. He would call his parents again begging for another loan to add to the many that he’d never paid back. Recently, he had stripped Maggie of all the credit card accounts she had opened at various department stores, all of which were pretty well maxed out. But the stupid companies, instead of cancelling the cards and, without even asking, increased the credit limit.
Mike had forgotten to fill the blue Coleman water keg for the office from his garden hose. Once at work, he transferred it into his patrol car and went to the mansion in search of an exterior spigot. What he saw through the window that Saturday afternoon left him both shocked and breathless.
* * *
An orgy had started in the parlor. Randomly, men fucked boys who laid over sofa armrests or got sucked off sitting on sofas by boys kneeling between their knees. Although most of the men loved boy cock, none were brave enough to let their guard down and service a boy or get fucked by one of them in front of their peers. The private fetishes could wait until the privacy of closed doors.
* * *
Mike closed his eyes tight and reopened them only to see the same surreal sight, men using boys in disgusting ways. He didn’t know what to do and found himself on the radio to his friend Sam Melrose telling him to leave his post and meet him at the north, rear side of the mansion. Sam had binoculars and both clearly saw faces they knew as regulars at the mansion.
Sam reached in his pocket for his cell phone. “I’m calling the cops, dude. These fuckers are going down!”
“No, wait a minute, Sam.” Mike took the cell phone from Sam. “Not one of those boys seems to be in distress … and did you not see Police Chief Winston fucking that kid? If we call the cops they’ll call him, assuming that they won’t know where he is, and he’ll surely be made aware of something like this happening at the governor’s mansion. He’ll warn his buddies and long before the troops arrive, they’ll have all dressed and made it appear like a boy-scout outing!”
Sam agreed and took his phone back. He began snapping pictures, as well as, some video as best the feature could provide at the distance and through a glass window. “What the fuck do we do now, Mike?”
“Nothing…for now.” Mike said, still trying to believe his eyes. “Let’s go back to the office and see what we’ve got on the cell phone.”
What they saw uploaded to the larger computer was distorted and much too far away to recognise faces. However, the sexual acts were identifiable using one's imagination but the player’s ages were definitely uncertain.
“We got nothing!” Sam protested back in the office where they were looking at the large screen computer monitor. “I still say we call the cops and catch them in the act.”
“As I said, Sammy. This is huge, man! The chief of police is here fucking little boys for heaven’s sake. Shit! I don’t know what to do, either!”
“We both saw it, Mike! Maybe we should get the other guys to witness it … ya know, the more of us eyewitnesses the better, don’t ya think?”
“Wait a minute.” Mike brightened. “Why rat them out at all? We can make a fuck of a lot of money off this if we play our cards right!”
“You mean like extortion?”
“No … well, yeah, I guess for lack of a better word.” Mike said.
“Pay us to keep our mouths shut. We go after the governor himself … ask for a million dollars!” Mike’s blue eyes were bright as Christmas bulbs.
The wheels in Mike’s head were turning and he was seeing the dollar signs when he closed his eyes. In that moment of pure bliss all his financial woes gone. He could pay off the mortgage, his truck, all Maggie’s credit cards and still have more than enough to put away for his three boy’s education. That, in itself, was motivation when he thought about it. And, as often happens in these types of situations, reality suddenly reared it’s ugly head. How the fuck was he ever going to put the triplets through college at the same time?
“Let’s sleep on it tonight, Sam. We need to get our heads around it and think clearly. We’re off Sunday until Tuesday night. We’ll get together over a beer and come to a decision.”
* * *
A late night swim, all naked of course, with the boys on men’s shoulders like knights on their steads jostling each other until one fell into the water then moving on to conquer another team. Everyone had a blast. Afterwards, when everyone was exhausted, all the men retired to their rooms with their favorite boy for a night of loving and promises of gifts.
* * *
That night, well after midnight, Mike made passionate love to his wife. He was harder than ever because of the visions of young boys getting fucked and sucking cock was all he could think about no matter how hard he tried to bury it. He was no fag; never had thoughts about other guys. Mike didn’t really care one way or the other about homosexuality. As far as he was concerned it was a matter of each to his own.
Mike woke the next morning with a raging hard on. He’d been dreaming about the governor’s mansion and all that went on there. Maggie was still sound asleep and he did something he seldom did, he masturbated to the thoughts of having a young boy for himself in the parlor orgy. After orgasm, for some inexplicable reason he thought about his own three little boys and how vulnerable they were. He knew in that most intimate place in his heart that if any man ever did to one of his boys what he saw going on in the governor’s mansion, he would kill him. He resolved never to let his imagination take him to that shameful darkness ever again. If anything, he was even more resolute to destroy the Governor and his paedophile ring. He would make them pay dearly.
* * *
Unlike Mike, Sam told his wife, Cathy, what he witnessed that evening. She was appalled and wanted him to report it to the police at once. They had a 13 year-old son, Nicky, and Cathy couldn’t fathom something like that happening to him, she would kill any pervert who laid a hand on her boy.
Sam explained who the players were, including the police chief and how delicate the situation was. He told her of his and Mike’s unformulated plan to extort the governor.
“And let those young boys to be continuously abused, Sammy!” Cathy said scathingly.”You and Mike need to go to the authorities and tell them what you saw … for the sake of those boys and other future victims!”
“Mike won’t do it … he’s into cashing in on it, ya know?”
“What if something happened to us and Nicky went to live at St. Vladimir's?”
Like an ice pick in his heart, Sam knew what had to be done to try and shut down the paedophile ring. He would go talk to his brother in law, Randall, the well known youth attorney for guidance on what to do.
* * *
Mike couldn’t sleep. He was planning a way of approaching the governor and demanding payment for his silence. He wished he’d never brought Sam into the scandal. He was frightened to death for himself, never mind Sammy.
* * *
Attorney Randall Cleaver was a no nonsense lawyer. He chose juvenile law as his main focus. He loved kids, life’s harshness denied him his own as his wife Mary was infertile. They discussed adoption many times over the years until those discussions grew weary as both aged and found themselves in their forties, much too old to seriously raise a baby. And to complicate matters even further, both were career minded. It seemed that Mary had always been in school upgrading her degrees in accounting. She was by then a certified fraud auditor under contract to the federal government’s Internal Revenue Service.
As compensation for not having children of their own, they had their nieces and nephews to spoil rotten. As Randall would say from time-to-time, “Our role is to spoil them rotten, then send them back to their parents.” They also took in orphan kids at Christmas when both would clear their busy schedules for two weeks to dedicate to the four preteen boys and girls that they always grew fond of and cried when they dropped them off at their home. Both knew they wouldn’t make good parents now set in their ways with their careers.
Cathy, Sam and Nick were going for dinner that evening. Cathy seemed distressed on the phone Sunday morning when she told Randall that Sam needed advice on an urgent, grave matter.
* * *
Mike found himself obsessed with the whole disgusting affair. He went to the mansion Sunday morning telling the duty supervisor that he was checking the many security sensors scattered around the property. Mike was one of few at work who had the training and expertise in alarm detectors. His presence never raised an eyebrow.
Mike knew the large property like the back of his hand. The tall wrought iron fence that surrounded the three sides of the expansive backyard terrace of the mansion was covered in vines forming a natural wall. Mike used wire cutters to snip the thick foliage wall closest to the swimming pool allowing him a good view and wide enough for the 200mm Canon lens. Mike was sure that with a houseful of boys, the pool would be a major attraction. He lay back against the fence and waited, he would hear any activity from his distance of 100 yards. He fell asleep.
* * *
It was Sunday morning. As was usually the case, the men took advantage of their last few hours with the boys before going back to reality by day’s end. Sex was at its peak then. Not a soul stirred before the lunch hour, a hungry lot, their brunch left in chafing dishes by the caterer trusted with a key and long since departed.
Coffee percolators were quickly emptied at which time the bar was officially open. The boys devoured the sausage, bacon, scrambled and eggs Benedict along with waffles and pancakes, a meal they seldom saw at home and looked forward to, as were all meals provided at the governor’s mansion.
* * *
Mike awoke with a start but not by the ruckus coming from the pool. The previous night’s lack of rest sent him into a deep sleep. It took a few seconds to register where he was and why. The first thing he saw was the camera strung around his neck. Scrambling to his knees he pointed the telephoto lens through the hole he made and surveyed every foot of the terrace seeing naked men and boys however, none engaged in sex. Mike snapped away regardless.
Men weren’t normally naked together with boys around a swimming pool, Mike thought that if nothing else, those shots alone would be enough to cause paranoia among the prestigious men.
Just when Mike was ready to pack up and head home, the photo-op turned all the better. A boy on his knees was blowing none other than the governor in a corner behind the bar away from the common patio, hidden for whatever reason, but not from the Canon’s lens angle. Mike zoomed in and out taking at least two dozen incriminating photos. When the governor got to his knees to service the thirteen or fourteen year-old, Mike couldn’t believe his good fortune.
He stuck around a little longer and captured the police chief, an attorney and the movie star getting sucked off sitting on the edge of the pool with the boys in the water between their legs. He had all he needed, packed up and left. Once at home, he uploaded the digital images to his computer, “Nice!” he said to himself.
* * *
Sam didn’t know how to begin telling his brother in law what he witnessed; Cathy led off the conversation with Sam’s nods confirming the gory details. Randall was aghast when he reviewed the poor quality cell phone pics and video. He would send it to a professional contact to have enhanced and optically clarified the following morning.
“Do you know you’re sitting on a time bomb, Sam?” Randall said shaking his head his eyes wide. Sam detected a fear in the man who was usually so self-assured with almost an air of pompousness. “This is fucking huge … the governor … not to mention the other players in this den of iniquity. We have to tread carefully … I don’t even know where to begin. I’ll need to bring in another attorney with this kind of experience.”
Cathy said, “We can’t delay, these boys are being sexually abused … and how many others are as well?”
Randall’s wife, Colleen concurred. “I agree, Randall, these men have to be stopped, and to think that St. Vladimir’s is involved … I’ve done charity work for them! Surely Monsignor Flanagan isn’t involved or even aware of what’s happening under his nose. Maybe you should go see him?”
“Right now, everyone connected with St. Vladimir’s is a suspect. “Randall warned. “We trust no one there, not even the fucking Vatican itself!”
“Then what do we do?” asked Sam.
“Let me sleep on it, I’ll figure something out.” Randall said with confidence, but inside he was frightened. He was wishing he’d never heard the sordid story. “And, for God’s sake, tell your friend, Mike, to keep his mouth shut in the meantime.”
to be continued …
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