Date: Wed, 06 Jun 2001 14:24:37
From: Ganymede
Subject: The Ring Around the Rose Chapter 5.

The Ring Around the Rose, by Ganymede


WARNING:


This story contains a graphic description of sexual acts
between a men and MINOR boys. I do not condone child abuse,
however boy-love as described in this story is an entirely
different matter. If the subject of man/boy sex offends you, if
this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you
are under the legal age for such material, do not read further!
You have been warned! Read at your own risk!

Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely
accidental.

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy
has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment. Feel
free to post it to appropriate newsgroups or send it to your
friends. The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. It
cannot be placed in archives that require payment for access, or
printed and distributed in any form that requires payment.


THE COPYRIGHT OF OTHERS:

Throughout the story there are poems and songs by others. I do
not claim this work as my own. These poems and songs are included
within single quotation makes. In some cases, I have modified the
original to suit my purposes. Citations and sources have not been
provided because it would interrupt the story. I appreciate the
efforts of Ianthe, who collected and posted this material.


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FINAL WARNING:

If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal in
your place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't your
thing, then exit now and save yourself from a life of sin!



The Ring Around the Rose, by Ganymede


Chapter 5. The Rose Awakened



Once my mind finally had settled into no longer trying to
decipher the senseless patterns of my life, I slept right through
the night. Kadri lay on the left side and Michel was on the other.
With Kadri close behind me, I faced to the west and held Michel
tightly, one arm around his slender soft-skinned chest. I could
not justify one boy over the other, but it seemed appropriate to
sleep that way. Just before I fell asleep, his hand reached up
from below and held my sex again. Curiously, and perhaps
fortunately, my penis chose not to become erect, but instead
stayed moist and hot, and in its own way, content. I was also
quite content to have the limp shaft contained within his fist.
Besides, after what he had done during the last three days and
nights, I did not want to disturb him. He deserved his rest. He
slept soundly, breathing his warm breath against my chest. His
other hand joined with my right hand and was placed between us.

As dozed, in that half-waking, half-asleep state, I mused
about the boy who I no longer thought of as Etienne. Like his
brother, there was more to him than met the eye, but already, I
understood that he was gentler than all the rest. It was to be
expected not only for Favonius, but also for a boy of Scorpio.
Despite my own Vulturnus mind-set, I was thankful for a boy who
could be sensitive and emotional, while also demanding of my love.
Michel was that and more, infinitely more.

Dawn came through my window with a faint yellow luminosity that
suggested there would be sun once the mist had gone away. I opened
my eyes and smiled. The boys were still asleep. At least the two
boys who slept the night in my bed were still asleep. In the
dimness, I heard more than a few muffled giggles coming from other
chambers on the novitiate floor. Those sounds became louder as all
the boys awoke and renewed the pleasures of the night. Somewhere
in the gloomy half-dark, someone groaned a little louder than
seemed warranted unless,....

"Shhh," a warning unbroken voice muttered. "Try to keep it
quiet will you. We're trying to sleep."

There was another soprano giggle. "Who's with Albie? I think
he's making all the noise."

Some boys laughed. "It isn't me that's for sure," one boy
answered.

"It's Daire. He's got his dick all the way inside me again,"
another protested. "I lost count of how many times we did it since
Evensong last night."

"What did you expect when you're in bed with a Vulturnus?"

They laughed again. I smiled. It was natural for boys to join
together. Boys would be boys when given no restraint. I stretched
my legs, feeling warmth throughout my body. Suddenly, I was
grateful to be alive. And I was hungry, so hungry that my stomach
growled. Still, there were things of more importance that eating.
I glanced at Michel's tousled hair. It was so like Etienne's silky
locks, only longer, blonder, even softer. I gazed at him in
wonder. I admired his lips. So divinely kissable, full lips on a
smallish mouth, slightly opened to show his flawless teeth. His
eyes were closed, yet even asleep his ambiguous sexuality
smoldered. He would be passionate, but not like most other boys.
He had already demonstrated that he would be a fast learner, I
realized with a wry smile. Indeed, the realization of how it
happened took me by surprise. This boy, Michel, Scorpio, of
Favonius was perfect in every way. A man could not ask for more
than a single night with him. It only took an instant before it
came to me that I was aroused. It swelled outward, straight and
hard and brushed against his lower belly. His hand stayed there,
holding onto my manhood with his fingers pushed far apart. My
erection dwarfed his hand. Even two of his hands would not have
been enough to hold my sex, yet another part could be the scabbard
for my sword. That was the miracle of our kind of love.

I released his other hand from my grasp and with my fingertips,
I stroked his hair. He had so much to learn before the Order
changed to Sagittarius. I reflected on my own first awkward
lessons and the training that followed. I underwent a dramatic
change over a period of four years. He would change, just as I had
changed, as every boy upon the Mount was changed. So much of what
he had to learn, was my responsibility as Master of Favonius
novitiates. Now was as good a time as any to begin his instruction
in the ways of men and boys. I reached along his lean belly,
feeling firm muscle underneath his honey-colored skin. I touched
the whorl that was his navel, thinking of it as nothing less than
the omphalos (Gr. navel) of his creation. It was tied just like
his brother's had been, knotted within, but barely indenting.
Michel's quiver made me smile. Gradually, my fingers moved even
lower. He stirred before I touched him there upon that precious
piece of flesh. It was soft, but quickly growing firmer. It
expanded further beneath my fingers, longer, a little thicker,
definitely harder. I grinned. It was a boy's toy, intended for
play as much as any other function. His foreskin was remarkably
long, or so it seemed to me. I pulled on the puckered end and
found it stretched immeasurably, like elastic.

He sighed and snuggled closer, his hand still clenching
possessively around my penis. His eyelids fluttered, the
scattering remnants of a final dream flashing before his eyes
before he woke. He smiled, that enigmatic smile of lovers who had
more to tell than the world would ever know. His eyes startled
open. Blue eyes, tinged with gray, like the sky as it neared the
distant horizon. The smile widened instantly.

"Master Aidan," he said softly. "You're awake."

If there was ever an angel's voice, it was his. I thought of a
reed flute, or the note of a nightingale, but they paled in
comparison to Michel's sweet sound. His words rang pure, a
delicate articulation that tinkled on the ear. When he sang,
everyone would hold their breath and listen. He certainly would
have my rapt attention.

"Yes, I am," I answered. I held my finger to my lips. "Kadri is
still asleep."

He nodded and then he grinned. He had finally realized what he
was holding, what was hot and hard and pulsing between his
fingers. His grip tightened and then released. His eyes met mine,
seeking understanding, acceptance, approval of his need. I nodded
slightly and gently squeezed on his finger-sized erection. He
nodded in his turn.

"Your's is very big, Master Aidan," he whispered anxiously.

"And your's is very hard," I hissed.

I stroked his little penis, up and down just once, but it was
enough and he quivered with the thrill. His body tensed, but only
for an instant. Then, deliberately, he repeated the gesture on
mine. He shivered with excitement mounting quickly. His hand
ceased moving, lingering halfway down, simply holding while he
reconciled his mind. I tensed my penis and made it swell beneath
his fingers. He tightened his grip intuitively responding. His
hand was strong, like Etienne's had been, and more than capable of
doing what needed to be done.

"It feels so good, but it's bad isn't it?" Michel asked
nervously.

His guilt was unmistakable. Still so young, a scant few days
past nine, and yet they learned to hate what they could not help
being. I resented the outside world that tried and all too often
succeeded to convince them of disgrace.

"It's supposed to be this way, Michel, not just for you or me,
but for both of us," I explained. "It's how we are."

"That's what Kadri said," Michel said quietly. "But I don't
think I believe him. My father said it's wrong, Master Aidan. The
way I am is nothing less than evil."

"It's not, Michel. In time you'll understand that he was wrong
to even think that. I am here to teach you that true love knows no
wrong."

I paused, letting my words sink in. He released my penis after
a few moments. He had enough to think about. I kissed his forehead
and removed my hand after giving his boyhood a loving playful
squeeze. He winced and quickly pulled away so that the contact was
broken between us. Kadri rolled onto his back and yawned sleepily.
His hand groped against my crotch. I placed my hand over his and
held his hand still. It was cupped upon my groin, his fingertips
searching on my scrotum. He sniffed and swallowed sadly. Tears
were in the offing. Some boys were like that when they first
confronted what they were.

"What's hurts so much that you need to cry, Michel?" I asked.

"Nothing." He looked towards the ice-crazed window. He
shrugged, and sighed softly. "I can't help how I feel, Master
Aidan."

"How do you feel?" I asked gently.

"I want you to hold me, Master Aidan. I want what you did last
night to Sandor and what Kadri did as well. I don't know why I
want those things. I just know that I can't help it. I try so hard
not to have the feelings I'm not supposed to have. And each time I
have them they are always for you."

"Don't worry. It's natural for you to feel that way for me.
Neither can I help the way that I feel about you, Michel. It's
natural for a man like me to have love for you, or Kadri, or
Sandor. It's the same for Master Aubert. It's because we love all
boys. Indeed, Michel, it's the same for any man or boy upon the
Mount. It's who we are. It's the same for boys like you, except
their feelings are for men. Men and boys join together because
it's how we are. "

"Will you do that to me, Master Aidan?" he asked after a
moment. "What Sanshevo and Kaddy did last night?"

"If that is what you wish then your turn will come soon enough,
Michel. Trust me that when the time is right, I will willingly do
to you what I did to him last night."

"Does it hurt?"

I smiled reassuringly. Every boy asked that question sooner or
later. It was the second time that he had wanted to know. He would
find out soon enough. As much as anything, whether it hurt from
the very start was a matter of time spent in obligatory exercise.
And even then, some boys disputed hotly, the merits derived from
fingers used in advance. I would not lie to Michel, or any other
boy about what our love involved.

"It's not unusual for it to hurt at first, Michel."

He looked concerned at that. He pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"Both Sandor and Kaddy said it hurt at first."

I smiled. They had enough experience to know. "Well, not all
boys complain about the pain. With practice and patience, the
entrance from behind will stretch. After that, it will hurt, but
only briefly, and then the pleasure is well worth it."

"They said that too. Is it really true?"

"Once you're used to it, it becomes a matter of habit, Michel.
Then the discomfort is but a twinge when it first goes in. And
later, when you're mated, you will copulate at every opportunity.
Trust me, you will never be happier than when you are joined to a
man like that."

"You mated with Etienne, didn't you Master Aidan?" Michel
asked meekly.

I nodded in assent. "You've learned about mating?" I asked
curiously.

"Kadri told me some of it last morning. It's how the bonds of
love are forged the strongest."

"That's also true Michel. It's supposed to be for life," I said
sadly. "Unfortunately for your brother, it lasted but a single
season."

"I don't want to die like him," he said morosely.

"Michel, it wasn't because your brother loved me that caused
him to die."

I could not tell what happened. Perhaps in time I could share
that shameful secret. It was not his shame, but mine. Instead, I
chose to get out of bed. In doing so, I disturbed Kadri and he
awakened with a grin. My legs felt very weak and Michel and Kadri
hastened to hold me up before I fell. Their bare slender bodies
pressed against mine, yet there was no thought of arousal. Their
skin was utterly devoid of hair, but roughened by the pricks of
goose-flesh. Michel climbed onto the bed and wrapped one of the
biggest furs around my body while Kadri kept me steady. Then, with
one naked boy supporting each arm, we tottered off to make our
ablutions before the other boys were out of bed and dressed in
woolen robes. It appeared that Sandor had disappeared during the
night, either going back to his own bed, or that of someone else.

As soon as I saw my haggard face reflected in the mirror, I
knew that more than a simple wash was in order. I explained this
to the boys. They helped me walk the rest of the way to the
caldarium. There, Michel helped me to get ready while Kadri opened
the vents to allow the steam to flow. It had been a long time
since I had washed properly, and the mere thought that I could
sweat the filth from my skin was enticing. Steam flowed up in
thick foggy clouds from the hypocaust as we took our seats upon
the marble benches. Within an instant the boys' chilled
appearance disappeared. The heat was invigorating at the same
time as it drained my strength. It was like suffering from the
terrible fever all over again. The sweat began to flow from my
pores, taking with it the accumulated grime, the sour smell of
sickness, the nights of loneliness and endless nightmares. I
basked with a grateful appreciation that my pallor was
disappearing.

Kadri carried on gleefully, sponging my weakened body with the
expertise of a single month of training. I was not about to
complain. Then, the little wretch turned his attention to Michel,
but instead of sponging him down, proceeded to tickle him into a
fit of giggles. Their friendship was both reassuring and
restoring. The two boys frolicked and flaunted their beautiful
bare bodies, aware that I was watching them with obviously
fascinated eyes. Kadri reddened in the steaming heat, as was
normal for paler skin. By contrast, Michel with his darker
complexion, merely sweated as he played. In the light-hearted
game of 'Tag the Stag,' Kadri won three to nothing, although he
had slightly more to grab.

Once the boys had settled down, I used a bronze scraper, to
take away the pasty greasiness that accumulated on my skin. Then,
after a few strokes I thought better of it. Instead, I picked up a
razor that had been closely honed. That blade took hair and all. I
scraped my arms and legs, then called the boys to sponge me down.
They erupted in fits of giggles when they saw me transfigured, as
hairless as they were.

"I don't know what's so funny," I rebuked. It was hard to keep
a straight face. "The ancients used to do it. There's no shame in
being bald."

That only caused another burst of giggles. "You're like
Sandor. Perhaps the boys will also call you 'sans cheveux. Are you
going to shave down there too, Master Aidan?" Kadri asked boldly.
He pointed at my groin.

"Perhaps, I will," I answered with a laugh to show that I was
quite as serious as I sounded. "I think I might look quite
different, don't you?"

"The older boys call it the novitiate-look. Not that any of
them have much hair except a few Vulturnus," Kadri guffawed. "At
least we won't get hairs between our teeth."

"You'll look like us if you do, but so much bigger," Michel
added.

He laughed and clapped his hands together, then stepping
closer, brought them to my groin. He fanned his little fingers out
to press my pubic hair to the sides. Although I was not about to
deny him, it was hardly the effect that I had in mind. He smirked
boldly and nodded eagerly, which only served to make Kadri giggle
even more. If ever there was encouragement, that was it. I
instructed the boys to scrape each other clean in the traditional
way, while I persisted with the razor. I moved closer to the steam
vents and let the steam seep into my pores. I sweated copiously,
droplets running down my body. When I could take no more, I began
to use the sharpened blade. My flesh tingled as the razor left it
clean and smooth.

The boys were very busy scraping each other. I thought of two
Greek boy gods, or a pair of boy athletes preparing for the games,
or two novitiates after an extended time in the gymnasium. They
were beauty manifested in form and action. Lean naked bodies with
taut young flesh, a dozen tiny ripples of skin to show their
bellies when they bent right over. They were lithe and strong and
their training had barely started. I feasted my eyes and had the
greatest difficulty in concentrating on what I was doing.

They approached me with bouncy eagerness to watch the final
act, that remnant of animal fur that evidenced my manhood. My
lower belly and the mass of hair below was of obvious interest to
them, as much as what it surrounded. They squatted on the floor,
shamelessly displaying what made them boys. Small hairless parts
dangling between their skinny legs. Their penises looked like
little fingers, and their scrotums still lacked the sign of
anything inside, so closely did their testicles hang beneath
their groins.

I made the strokes over my belly very carefully for the blade
was very sharp. Some men preferred to have the hairs pulled out
one by one. I doubted whether I was so motivated unless the boys
took on that task. I regarded them with interest, and they grinned
back.

"Will it grow back again, Master Aidan?" Michel asked.

"It does, all too quickly, I'm afraid. There are ways to make
it grow more slowly, but the hairs must be pulled right out to do
it."

"Ouch!" they said in unison.

"Ouch indeed. Although it will hurt less after all this heat,"
I said. "When I was a Sanctuary boy, many of the masters went
bare. They often had the younger boys pluck the hair," I laughed
and looked at them suggestively. I was not at all sure what I
intended then to do.

"We could do that, Master Aidan," Kadri offered. He elbowed
Michel. "Couldn't we, Michel?"

Michel nodded shyly, yet his eyes stayed upon my groin. I
winked at him. He returned a mischievous smile. I laughed and
moved my knees apart. The only hair not on my head was the long
dark strands around my sex. I could not imagine having two more
beautiful boys who were willing to perform that intimate if
uncomfortable removal.

"What's so funny?" Kadri demanded.

"Well, get busy," I instructed. "Pinch just a hair or two and
yank."

Michel, ever tractable, hung back. Kadri reached right out
with his thumb and first finger extended. He selected his target
and with unconcealed glee, jerked his hand back. I very nearly
yelped. He looked at the two or three strands of wire-like hair
between his fingers curiously. It was hair of a type that was
foreign to his body, yet he had seen it often, nearly every night
since Virgo ended. He grinned.

"Did it hurt, Sir?" he asked with mock sincerity.

"You little monster," I growled. "Just you wait until tonight.
I'll bend you over backwards and plow your hole with seed."

Kadri giggled. "I hope so, Master Aidan."

His hand came back and picked out two or three more strands of
hair that awaited extraction from my crotch. He smirked and met my
eyes, delaying the actual yank until I was least expecting it. He
pulled it teasingly, not hard enough to pull it out, but serving
to distract me.

"Just do it, wretch," I muttered.

"Like this?" Kadri said under his breath.

And then he wrenched his hand up hard. He had more than two or
three strands that time and for a moment if seemed to slow him
down. However, his slim forearm had the advantage of considerable
leverage to make up for whatever strength was lacking. He ripped
the hair right out.

"Ouch! Do that again and I'll skip the lard next time and just
use spit," I promised.

It was said in jest. Given what the boys sustained in the tower
chamber, both of them without a word of complaint, my loss of
hirsuteness was but discomfort. He dropped the hairs on my leg.
There were at least a dozen of them.

"If you want, I'll do it dry," Kadri giggled. "Give me a hand,
Michel. You do that side and I'll do this. We'll meet beneath his
balls."

They went to work, both tugging earnestly from either side. I
watched the hair become much sparser until very few were left. I
was fascinated as much by their deft extraction as by the fact
that it stopped hurting after a while. Their fingers were small
and quite strong, offering advantages over the other ways of
scraping or hot wax. Before long there was scant hair left. They
licked their fingers and picked up what little hairs remained,
pulling hair by hair with little tugs. When they stopped and
examined their end result, I was as bare down there as they were.
They grinned, pleased with their accomplishment.

"How do you stop the hair from growing back?" Kadri asked.

"With a lotion made of olive oil and holly leaf," I answered.
"What do you think? I like the end result I think."

"It looks funny," Michel giggled.

I raised an eyebrow in mock dispute. That made him giggle more.
His laughter was music to my ears, like the chimes of a crystal
bell ringing in the wind. Boldly, he placed his hand upon my penis
and squeezed it confidently. I smiled at him and nodded
encouragingly. He tightened his fist and slowly pumped. His grasp
was tight enough to bring the skin back, retracting the foreskin
to expose my rose. His eyes opened wide and he ogled me with
fascination.

Kadri leaned over and studied my maleness with equal interest
and concentration. Before their eyes, my penis lengthened, grew
outwards, thicker, and so much bigger that they were visibly
astounded. Neither boy spoke. They simply stared. My limpness had
vanished almost instantly and that boy's toy had became a fearsome
warrior. What confronted them was omnipotent, the man's part that
demanded their respect. The head was red, swollen and flared with
a gaping slit that was quickly oozing fluid. It did not go
unnoticed.

"Oh, look, it's leaking," Michel observed. "See, Kadri!
There's spit coming from the tip!"

Kadri burst into giggles. "It's supposed to do that, dummy.
That's why he's a master."

"What is it?"

"Cock-dew," Kadri chortled. "It's comes out to slick your
bum."

"Why?" Michel asked seriously.

Kadri lost it again and almost rolled the floor with
uncontrollable giggles. Boys soon learned the lessons of anatomy
on the Mount.

"It's slippery for a reason, isn't it Master Aidan?" he said
suggestively when he had finally regained control.

"Yes, it is," I agreed. I leaned over to Michel. "It helps the
penetration in the rear," I whispered.

Gently, I took Michel's hand and drew it closer, closer and
closer until his finger touched the tip. I moved it around
slightly, rubbing in the slimy film until it turned to foam.
Michel examined his fingertips, rubbed them together, smelled
them, then cautiously extended his tongue to taste what little was
left.

He made a wry face. "It tastes kind of soapy," he acknowledged.

"It's not that bad," Kadri commented dryly. "Watch this,
Miel."

He gave Michel a gentle shove to move out of the way. He
quickly bowed his head to bring his mouth closer. I tensed,
waiting for that succulent little tongue to lick. He made a show
of it. First he licked his lips, then he glanced at Michel to make
certain that he was watching before he opened his mouth wide. His
lips kissed first, then parted to allow his tongue to come out. It
touched, hot and alive, like fleshy jelly, then slowly swirled
around. I placed my hand on his head, sliding my fingers through
his hair, steadying him. By the time he glanced up sideways, and
finally lifted away, there would have been nothing left to taste.

"See," Kadri grinned at Michel. "It's nice to eat. Now you do
it."

Michel's expression was precious. He blushed. He waited until
Kadri had settled back to sit beside me. Instead of leaning over
my thigh from the other side, he knelt down on the floor between
my knees. He gazed at me with querying eyes, almost like a loyal
dog waiting for a friendly pat of encouragement. I rubbed his head
affectionately. Then, slowly, deliberately drew his small head
forward. His mouth opened instinctively when my penis brushed
against his lips. That first sensation was unforgettable. That
luscious mouth melted around my member. It was hot, moist,
delicious, delightful, intensely gratifying. I trembled beneath
his touch. With the rose-hued head of my penis embedded behind his
teeth, he looked up for support. It was all that I could do to nod
and not push his head down further.

"Use your tongue to rub over it, Miel," Kadri advised. "That
feels by far the best. It's what Master Aidan did to you when he
had his fingers up your butt."

Michel tried to nod, but gave up. He followed the instructions
to the letter, and then once mastered, started to invent. Unlike
Kadri, he stayed there, licking, sucking, slurping, until I was
ready to succumb to ecstasy. He learned to bob his head without
advice from us. The technique can naturally to him, both hands
clamped around the base, moving slowly up and down. His head moved
in counter rhythm so that his fingers and lips met somewhere in
the middle. I had the greatest difficulty in not groaning. Kadri
watched, and kept on adding suggestions of his own.

"When he spurts, don't worry," Kadri said when the inevitable
end was close. "It won't taste bad, just different."

Michel glanced up again. My legs were tense and twitching as I
strained but I suspected that he had no idea what Kadri was
talking about. Few novitiates did until it was made clear to them
by their master. I touched his shoulders to keep him at his task.
Then, I gently stroked his silky cheek, feeling the bulge around
my sex. The other side was sucked in as if to compensate. His
tongue moved from side to side providing a delightful massage.

"Kadri is correct," I explained in a faltering voice.
"Shortly, Michel, I'll ejaculate. What comes out is the essence of
our sex. It is properly called semen, but there other names for
the seed that spurts from a man's loins."

"Like cum. And jizz. Or cream. It makes you stronger too,"
Kadri added knowledgeably. "I usually swallow right away, but
some boys like to keep it in their mouths a while."

"It's getting closer," I advised. "You can go a little faster
now."

Michel obeyed immediately, going both faster as well as
further down. Again, I revised my earlier impression Not only was
he eager and a 'fast learner' but he possessed the inclination to
be natural 'cock-sucker'. Some boys were like that, both
physically and emotionally inclined to satisfy a man. Still, he
was inexperienced and he sought my eyes continuously to find
approval for his approach. Each time I smiled and nodded. Each
time became more difficult to concentrate. The stress was
building from within, that unbearable, orgasmic power, that glow
of passion building to the final moment. My hands clamped around
his head and my scrotum pulled up tight. I groaned and shuddered
violently as it blasted from my jerking penis. It was my first
orgasm in a week. Hot thick, copious liquid, burst out into his
mouth. For the first time, Michel tasted the molten magma of a
man.

Michel took it all, gulping with a frenzied effort, determined
not to spill a drop. I had the strangest sensation, that all his
body consumed my liquid, that I fed just not his mouth, that it
flowed through every vein, into every extremity, that first
explosion made him mine forever. My semen took possession,
claimed him, body, mind and soul. That instant, I had taken him
for my own. Finally, when the fountain slowed to a trickle and the
pulses ended, he lifted off. A dribble ran down his chin. That was
all to show what had transpired. That, and the shy smile on his
face, the knowing look of triumph, of realizing to whom he
belonged. He slowly swallowed. And used his tongue to clean around
his teeth.

Kadri giggled. "See, I told you it tasted nice, Miel."

Michel giggled as well. His wiped his hand across his mouth,
taking away the sweaty wetness from his lips. By then his hair was
clumped and dark. Rivulets of moisture trickled down his face.
Yet, his happiness was obvious. He had succeeded. He had performed
the one important task that boys could do for men, and in doing so
he had discovered the mystery that had awaited him since he was
very young. He licked his lips thoughtfully.

"Come on," I said agreeably. "It's time we finished up in the
frigidarium."

We went forth together, aware that nearly a dozen other boys
had gathered in the corridor to watch us. While this was not
surprising, it was at a time when they should have been doing
their ablutions in preparation for the day ahead. I winked at them
and gestured for them to go about their personal hygiene duties.
They giggled brazenly and shared a few lewd comments about semen
in little boys' mouths and making sure to brush afterwards. Michel
blushed again and hid his head behind my arm. Kadri merely
giggled.


The ice cold water was invigorating. Smooth shaved and exposed
before two very adorable little boys, I relished the chilling
bite. In addition, the enhanced sensitivity of every flushed-out
pore left me tingling. At the same time, my sex diminished. It was
no different for the boys for their male parts ended up no bigger
than shriveled prunes. We dried off vigorously, snapping the
linen clothes about our legs. Then, as clean and refreshed as I
could remember being, we ran to find our clothes.



The boys gathered every Sunday morning in the Great Hall. They
came from their chambers, still half asleep, eyes bleary and
crusted, hair tousled and unkempt, robes awry and hastily
dressed, yet smiling. Sunday mornings lacked the hurried, ordered
sense. Other mornings began in a rigorous disciplined manner.
Life was renewed upon the Mount at exactly six o'clock. Twelve
hours to the very second, the evening bell ended a day-long ritual
of education and arduous training. Every boy was exhausted and
they were triumphant in that way. Yet, somehow each boy found the
strength within him to continue into the dark.

How often had I stopped upon entering the Great Hall as a boy?
At an age beginning nine to the end of twelve, I harkened to the
unlikely sound of nightingales. And then to listen, enthralled,
having finally realized that the song that thrilled me belonged to
the eight boys whose turn it was to be the choir? Their voices
warbled, gaining character as they struggled to hold the tune
against the echo from high above. Chosen from the Order of the
time, but equal to the best of each side of the Hall, of Favonius
and Vulturnus, those boys who sang in choir captivated me. This
morning was different for some reason. Certainly, the voices were
raised in solemn entreaty to the Divinity, yet when I stopped to
listen, I sensed danger. Curious how that first premonition
struck, as if something were amiss, but unfathomable when I tried
to give an explanation. It was indescribably unsettling.

The voices were as clear as ever, seeking to achieve inspiration
for the rest of us. I listened as I always did, barely cognizant
of Michel and Kadri by my side. Michel sensed the change in me,
but he was too inexperienced to recognize my perturbation for
anything other than surprised confusion. I regarded the boys who
sang. It was not them. I struggled for a moment to reconcile my
apprehension. There was no reason for it that I could fathom, yet
what I felt was nothing less that the presence of dark evil. I
shook momentarily and then the sense of lurking malevolence
passed. The Hall was untainted once again. Although every one who
gathered there was hardly chaste, all at least were pure
of spirit.

"Master Aidan?" Michel asked nervously.

I turned and glared at him before I realized what was in my
head. The same feeling had been there when Etienne was dead. That
brooding timeless wickedness, the portent of a living Hell.