Date: Thu, 18 Oct 2001 15:01:27
From: Ganymede
Subject: Ring Around the rose

The Ring Around the Rose, by Ganymede


WARNING:


This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts
between men and MINOR boys. It is not true! The story is not
intended to promote illegal acts against minors. I do not
condone child abuse, however the love of boys is a different
matter. Despite the prevalent attitudes of western society,
men have loved boys throughout recorded history. It is my goal
to help readers appreciate that love can exist between men
and boys. If the subject of man/boy love 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!

By downloading this story:

"... you implicitly declare and affirm under penalties of
perjury that you are not a minor or in the company of a
minor and are entitled to have access to material intended
for mature, responsible members of society capable of making
decisions about the content of documents they wish to read...."

Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely
accidental. The sexual acts described in the story are the
result of my imagination. I have not performed these acts, and
I do not encourage others to perform them with minors.

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy
has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment.
The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. The story
cannot be placed in archives that require payment for access, or
printed and distributed in any form that requires payment either
directly or indirectly.


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 marks. 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 Nine. The Rose Bud.

The next three weeks passed very quickly. In truth, I should
say that rapid passage of time occurred less through any temporal
acceleration than for the simple reason of routine. My memories
of that time became so few and far between that time flowed,
unbroken in monotony. Furthermore, what followed was so
unforgettable, that the period prior to Michel's initiation must
seem far shorter than it was. However, upon reflection it was,
all told, a pleasant enough time. The days and nights passed with
enduring if depressing regularity, especially considering that
the worst of winter was not so far away that its chilling
progress could be ignored.

We settled quickly into a pattern, my Favonius boys and I.
Our mornings began in much the same way, no matter what the day.
I always awoke with a boy on either side of me. It was such a
pleasant way to greet the light of day that even now it is
difficult to contemplate another way to meet the dawn. Within two
weeks my penis had worked its miraculous way inside every one of
my boys, and sustained pleasure in one way or another throughout
the night, at least for those fortunate lads who bore the symbol
of the rose. It made me proud to know that they carried my seed
within their bowels for it signified the perfect bond that joined
a man and boy. At times their admiration was so strong that I
feared respect had been transformed into worship. Certainly, it
was no secret that I satisfied their juvenile desires for none of
the boys had any reservations in asking for a repeat performance.
That my execution of the fundamental act of love was superior to
my predecessor was without question. Indeed, Master Aubert took
great delight in taunting me with rumors that I was beginning to
acquire a new name. Increasingly, I was known as 'the Sword' for
my ability to maintain my hardness with a boy and to mount and
mount again. With such a reputation to fulfill, once the ritual
of introduction had been completed, it was not long before I
started on the very delectable task of repetition with the boys
under my tutelage.

I had no favorites among those eleven boys, although I must
say that I always enjoyed Kadri's charms as much or more than any
of the others. Needless to say, the ten nights when he was not
expected to join me in my bed, he disappeared quickly once the
Evensong was finished. I did not know where he went on those
nights but I had few doubts with whom he slept. I would have been
very surprised if he was with anyone but Sandor for the two boys
had become very close. They demonstrated the type of friendship
that was treasured on the Mount.

Of all my boys who had been ringed, Kadri was the fastest
learner. He took exceptional interest in whatever lessons I had
to teach, and dwelled with deliberation on anything I had to say.
This was particularly true for any and all matters pertaining to
the act of love. I was certain that he put his knowledge of anal
titivating to good use even when he was with others, although my
presumption was based entirely upon the extent of dilation I
observed whenever he turned about for me. His anus, whenever I
chanced to glimpse his precious orifice, was perpetually bruised.
However, it was the not the raw and reddened result that is seen
when a boy is regularly taken by a man. Instead, when a boy's
anus is loose but shows little swelling or injury from over-
stretching, it is often the result of a younger partner's
frequent mating. In Kadri's case, the ring was simply both darker
and larger than it should have been for one so young and barely
broken to the docile duty. Not that I was perturbed by that.
Indeed, the situation was most curious for neither was his
condition indicative of the energetic penetration of an
aggressive boy. The size of the discolored ring compared to
Sandor's boyhood precluded that. I held my tongue, accepting that
the boys had discovered a way to achieve their pleasure that
satisfied their needs even if it denied a man's important role.
Perhaps I should have pursued the situation with more vigor, but
I had interests that were both more pressing and of greater
concern to me.

Of course, I am referring to Michel's preparation. It was
customary at night for a master to be accompanied in his bed by
the most junior boy in order to prepare him in mind and body for
what would transpire before much longer. Needless to say, I took
great pleasure in Michel's company when the candles were
extinguished. He came to my chamber naked but for his sash, which
he promptly unfastened and left on the end of my bed before he
slipped beneath the furs to seek my warmth. He was a warm boy,
unlike some whose feet were chilled. It seemed to me that his
skin was considerably softer than any other boy, so smooth that
my body would tremble and turn to gooseflesh whenever he pressed
against me. He stayed the night, watching and learning, and
sometimes assisting in the mounting of the other boy who lay
beside me. How else was a novice to learn the way of our kind,
and to discover what was expected both in front and behind of a
boy who lived upon the Mount?

Michel was a delightful if demanding boy to sleep with. He
played with more joy than any of the others, his fingers teasing
everywhere, especially my groin, which he loved to examine at
close view. He giggled when my penis stiffened, then used his
tongue to get it ready for the boy whose turn it was to be
mounted. Once started, Michel grew quiet and waited patiently for
me to finish. Then, as soon as I had ejaculated, he returned to
his preferred position to lie his head in the crook of my arm
with his upper leg draped across my thigh. He was always good-
natured, never showing the jealousy that plagues some lads when
they are required to share.

Sometimes, he fell asleep with his nose burrowed within the
pit of my arm and his little fingers entwined within my hair. His
own body was hairless but for the hair on his head and he was
amused by my hair. Other times, he remained awake and whispered
in my ear of the events of each day. However, more often than
not, he remained awake and eager to continue his instruction. He
needed to be primed in many ways for his initiation, an event
that was fast approaching for the Order was soon about to change.
Each day, with glee, he remarked upon the number of days that
were left before his rose was ringed. Unlike those Vulturnus boys
who roamed the hallowed halls and wondered which one of a dozen
masters would be his sire, Michel took great pleasure in the fact
that his virginity was to be taken by a man of his own choosing.
He made no secret of who would be the lucky one to receive his
precious gift. His virginity was the reward of kings, and he
intended to bestow that precious gift on me. I looked forward to
the day, yet it amused me to see that even though we were as
close as any man and boy could be, he was as nervous as I was
about the final event.

If Kadri was a fast and eager learner, Michel was both
absolute and gifted. Never was I given reason to repeat myself,
or even explain why things were done. It is well known by any man
who loves boys that the first requirement for a boy to learn
about the nature of male love is to have complete trust in his
teacher. Michel's trust in me was evident at every moment of the
day, and even more at night. Accordingly, it was relatively easy
for me to swiftly advance his training to a very high degree. I
exercised his anus at every opportunity, and always when he lay
sleepily dozing beside me during the night. Then, I applied my
fingers to prepare the portal to his inner sanctum. Indeed, he
could accommodate two of my fingers without even waking up, and
often without the use of lard. A third finger would under most
circumstances, be sufficient to bring him back to life, and then
with an urgent groan or sudden spasm as he passed the test of
ecstasy. When he awoke and mustered his seemingly never-ending
energy, it was necessary to complete the act despite the lateness
of the hour. It was not a laborious task in any event. I
discovered quickly that my Michel was an orgasmic lad for whom
relief was never far away.

Now, there are some boys for whom anal stimulation is merely
that and nothing more. They experience the considerable joy that
comes from pressuring the inner gland, however the sensations are
insufficient to produce any noticeable sign of climax. Such boys
required their male parts to be massaged as well if thorough
sexual fulfillment was desired. Of the Favonius boys I mounted,
only three were unable to achieve complete and overwhelming
orgasm from anal stimulation alone, although their arousal was
quite considerable and a joy to behold. With luck and the
physical changes wrought by constant practice, I expected that
even those boys would eventually succumb to the ultimate joy that
came from having a man's penis within them.

On the other hand, with just the careful prodding of a
finger, my Michel would achieve that pinnacle of delight, not
once or twice, but three or four times throughout the night. He
was not a boy to show restraint once he learned that climax could
be repeated ad infinitum. I began to appreciate that he would
require a full time commitment once he was used to taking a man's
penis, although it would be nearly four years hence before he
could avail himself of a single lover. In fact, there were many
times when Michel would beg for more. When his anus was distended
and beginning to show some signs of over use, he would drift off
and fall into a fitful sleep that lasted less than an hour before
he pleaded for a repeat performance. At such times, I was very
fortunate that another good climax would generally cause him to
fall asleep again before too long, but even then he would implore
in drowsy murmurs to leave my fingers lodged inside him.

If any consolation was needed, and none was required on my
part for that very enjoyable assignment, it was that he was not
only loosening very nicely, but was developing considerable
control over his anatomy. Within a day or two of beginning his
formal training as a Favonius acolyte, he had learned to use his
rectal muscles to squeeze against my fingers. With only two more
days of practice he quickly discovered how to push and pull
without moving his pelvis more than was necessary. In that way,
he could appear submissive while playing a more active role in
enhancing his own sensations. Some boys take months to learn that
trick of heightening a man's delight while moving towards a
superlative conclusion to making love. What is more, within a
week, Michel's ability to exert control over his sphincter muscle
during penetration was far better than any of the other more
experienced boys who lay beside me.

Lest some think that the training of an acolyte is invasive
or done without regard for a young boy's inexperience, I
encouraged him only with gentle words and soothing caresses as
his inner chamber undulated around my probing fingers. I did not
take advantage of Michel. Far from it. Of his own volition he
came to my bed and stayed throughout the night. Indeed, a
compliment on how good he was or how it would feel when he loved
a man was more than enough to motivate him to the point of
physical exhaustion.

Of the occasions with Michel that I do remember, once
instance in particular still brings a smile. At the time, all it
would have taken was the slightest push to claim his virginity
for my own. Perhaps it was less a matter of Michel's day drawing
ever nearer than an issue of good fortune that I had taken my
time with Kiann. An hour of continuous and hard thrusting into an
eager boy's tight rectum normally left any man physically and
emotionally drained, and considerably less interested than he
should have been when confronted by a boy as beautiful as Michel.
Thus, it was not restraint or resolve on my part to preserve his
virginity, but simply the diminishing of desire that comes with
ejaculation. That I had attained earlier relief enabled me to
control my urge to mount him.

That night, the last night before his rose was ringed,
Michel had observed us closely. Very closely. Too closely. His
head had nestled on Kiann's white smooth belly while he watched
intently as my penis moved relentlessly back and forth. Barely a
hand's breadth from his face, the pungent sweet odor ripe from
within, the wet sounds that squelched and sucked, and the soft
yet urgent whimpers that seemed to never end. We were close to
ending when Michel giggled and announced that he was being
splashed. Before I could chide him, he leaned closer and began to
lick. His tongue swirled and darted around my sex, tasting the
fluids that had accumulated. His nose nuzzled my scrotum as his
lips and tongue pressed further. Before me, Kiann groaned. His
knees trembled and stretched further apart. Michel heeded the
invitation to continue and his head dropped even lower.

Again Kiann trembled, this time because Michel's tongue
strayed across his anal verge. This was no momentary swipe but a
deliberate endeavor to increase the other boy's pleasure.
Increasingly, Michel had taken to participation, sharing kisses
and oral pleasures whenever the opportunity presented itself.
This time was different. No longer was he content to merely look
and learn. He lingered, discovering how to use his tongue in new
ways, probing, tasting, savoring the excretions, tantalizing
Kiann's anus until he writhed and gasped and jerked as he
conquered the final summit. My erection became thicker and
harder, and indeed my mind was swayed by imagining that it was
Michel who lay beneath me. I thrust harder, deeper, faster,
frantically stabbing into that receptive hole. If Michel wanted a
show, I intended to give him something worth watching. Kiann's
climax was both pronounced and prolonged, and then exhausted, he
rolled to the side and slumped into the bed.

Michel sat up and teasingly wiped his lips clean. He did not
speak, but gazed down at me, his expression amused, as if by some
illicit joke implicit in what he had seen. Yet, I sensed the
change in him. He wanted me, wanted me in the way that boys want
men. There was silence between us. He was subdued, submissive,
anxious to give me the gift of his virginity. He was ready.

That evening, the night was dark as pitch and I had left a
candle burning, allowing it to flicker on the sill as if by some
miracle of light, it could keep the evil out. However, the wind
had soon extinguished it, leaving the chamber in an eerie ruddy
glow from the dying embers of the fire. There, enclosed in thick
furs, I cuddled with the boys on either side of me, one in the
satisfying after glow of orgasm, the other aware of what he
needed. They were warm and soft, and their smooth lithe bodies
melted into me so that I could want for nothing but the night to
never end. Such happiness few men know but once during an entire
lifetime, yet it was my duty to do this every night?

I smiled back at him. We did not speak. Instead, we
communicated as lovers, sharing thoughts and content to look at
each other. In the dimness, his skin was darker and his hair
showed only the faintest glimmer of spun gold, yet that beautiful
honeyed child was as precious to me as at any other time. His
lips pressed forward to make a kiss and silently, his head came
lower. Sweetness. Purity. Pure temptation. The words of the poet
ran through my mind:



'Of the sounds of night, till the hum of the sea,

Lulls me to sleep, and drowsily I dream

Of sweeter days past, or sweeter days to come,

Some boy's fair face breaks on me like a gleam

Of rift-cloud sun, no sooner come than gone.

What if unhailed, unkissed he passes on?

Our hearts have spoken though our tongues were dumb'

My lips gave way to Michel's small wet tongue and he entered
my mouth with a dainty tickling wriggle. Yet, no sooner than his
tongue was beyond my teeth, his kiss became aggressive and his
tongue swirled and pushed around my mouth. I held him tightly,
finally rolling him onto his back to kiss him with more ardor. I
pressed his slender body down into the fur skins, compressing our
heated lips so hard that he could not breath. Then, I breathed
into him, sharing the force of life itself. He giggled once,
evincing surprise as the fetid air from my lungs passed within
his. His eyes, wide open and excited met mine, gazing lovingly.
And then, he pulled away, returning the instant that he had been
able to breath. This time, it was his turn and I breathed deeply
with him, and filled my lungs with his sweet fresh air.

By then, the other boy was nearly asleep, his small hand
pressed between his moistened cheeks to stem the flow of semen
from his bowels. By contrast, Michel was wide awake. His slim
arms tightened around my neck so that our faces were close
together. I stroked his cheek, forever marveling at the complete
absence of peach-fuzz hair, a condition that had also striking on
his brother.

"I'm yours, Master Aidan," he whispered in my ear. "He's
asleep so you can do whatever you want to with me."

Oh, how I longed to do that. For every night that Michel had
laid beside me and curled his smooth warmth against my skin. Such
was my desire that I did not hear my inner voice demanding
caution. I kissed him again, slipping my hand down between us.
His penis was erect, a sleek, smooth dagger of rigid flesh. I
caressed it, cupping my hand over his immature genitals. My
fingers curled around his plump scrotum to feel the tiny eggs
shift and slide within. His arm locked behind my neck, keeping
our mouths together. I pushed my tongue into him and closed my
hand to hold him tightly. We lay like that for a long while, an
hour perhaps. It was as if a dream, surreal, a time I would never
forget and I penned the words in my mind to capture every feeling
as I lay above him:

'Oh Michel. Thou art a fairy Prince,

Mine for a honey'd hour, but vanished since,

Ranks with dream creatures that have never been.

Of all the boys I know and love, you are dearer far,

Have no faults and failings of your fair friends.

Alone, you are a Vision Of Perfection. Naught can mar

The splendor of your memory. You alone

Immaculate, you stand before the bar

Of frowning Justice fearless. Sad-eyed Truth

Knows naught of them; for your immortal youth

No ravages of Time will ever own.'



I was heavy enough to crush him so I used my elbows and
knees to keep most of weight from pressing down upon him. After a
while, Michel's legs drew up, his feet behind my back. Like that,
he gripped around my waist. My penis, as hard as it had ever been
despite the demands that had only recently been placed upon it,
nudged between his small firm buttocks. Without any guidance from
either us, it lodged at the portal to his treasure. We rocked
back and forth, still kissing as we tested the resilience of his
little muscle. My excretion oozed and provided a slippery film
over his crack. Each gentle mock-thrust pressed the tip of my
penis against the dimple of his anus.

It is known by all the boys and men upon the Mount that
virginity is lost at the moment that the rim of the glans passes
beyond the anal band. I came very close to achieving that
condition for Michel's body loosened and greeted my penis with
its succulent encompassing heat. Indeed, his anus opened before
me, welcoming my entry. I settled deeper, pressing the swollen
bulging head within him, into that wondrous place. So captivated
was I by the sensation of love that I was but a hair's thickness
from achieving penetration of a depth that would constitute
initiation. Fortunately, I held back just enough to preserve his
virginity. It would have taken but the slightest pressure to
complete the deep.

"I want it inside me," Michel murmured wistfully.

"Michel,... Miel,..." I sighed. "You know I can't."

"I need you," he implored. "I want you in me."

"It won't be long now, my honey-colored boy," I answered
gently. I eased away a little further, reluctant to separate
completely. "A few more nights."

"I'm tired of waiting," Michel complained. "I want you,...."
He paused, biting on his bottom lip. "I want you to do to me what
you did to Kiann's bum."

"You're not ready for that. Not yet," I said. "I would hurt
you badly if I did that to you right now. A few more weeks and
you'll be able to take it all."

"Please," Michel begged.

Regretfully, I disengaged, withdrawing from the place of
entry. Even the slightest pressure would have completed the
passage through his sphincter. He sighed regretfully, yet
embraced me with loving arms before I changed position to lie
down beside him. I pulled him close against me and stroked his
silky hair as I nuzzled my lips against his slender neck. I
wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how much I wanted to
make love to him, yet I did not speak. There was no need to tell
him what was patently obvious to both of us.

It was later, much later in the night when I awoke again. I
caressed the warm silken skin of Michel's thighs, musing at how
close we had come to that decisive act. All it would have taken
was the slightest push and my penis would have entered beyond the
point of no return. Only a small push, barely more than a gentle
squeeze and the glans would have punctured to take his virginity.
And now, he lay beside me sound asleep. So smooth! So warm! So
alive! My fingers crept to his hip before gliding languidly
around the prominent ridge of his pelvis into the furrow between
his belly and thigh. Not unexpectedly, his sex was soft,
shriveled, and barely male, yet reassuring in its perfect form.
Lovingly I tugged against the nozzle of delicate skin that capped
the end, wondering whether his blood would flow to make it grow
if I continued to caress it. I teased the nubbin of firmness
hidden within, feeling the tiny helmeted head and its flared rim.
In the darkness I listened to his steady breathing, barely
hearing the muffled sounds of my other boys as they slept that
night. Then suddenly, from far away I heard a shout, a scream,
the cry of ecstasy. I smiled, thinking of the pleasure that could
elicit such a cry. Often a boy's pleasure was so great that he
lost control. Michel would be like that, I thought to myself.
Once his rose was ringed and he was used to the thickness of my
shaft. That was when love gave him a reason to cry out with a
frenzied shriek at the moment of his climax.

And so, upon that memorable night, three weeks had passed.
One day was much like any other, at least as far as waking up
after a long and draining night. After ablutions, which entailed
erasing the scent and smears of sex as much as anything else, the
boys dressed and went in search of food and milk. While the meals
were filling, the food was often less than tasty. Sometimes, even
I grew tired of lumpy porridge, or the suet pie of every Monday
morning. In either case, the food that broke the fast of night
was more often than not gray in tone and texture like the
winter's sky. No matter the season, I was of the mind that
growing boys needed their nutrition. I wondered how such divine
boys could retain their strength and beauty when the food they
ate was so unappetizing. It was of dismal taste that was not
unlike the rations served in battle. Was the food so bad when I
was a boy? Strangely, my memories of my childhood on the Mount
were vague in matters other than the training I had received.
However, reasoning that what I now found bland, would be the same
for them, I managed to scrounge some extra pieces of fruit from
the master's table whenever I could. These few treasures I
distributed as rewards for superior performance in my lessons.

My class on strategy proved to be a difficult undertaking.
First, I needed to undertake a vast amount of preparation. Each
lesson was carefully tailored at three levels, neophyte, acolyte,
and master. This allowed all of the boys on the Mount to
participate in the same class even if they had different levels
of skill and expertise. Each lesson had three parts, the story,
the game, and the memory. I began by telling the assembled boys a
story that contained a message. In some cases, these messages
verged on fundamental truth, but in every case the strategy was
always carefully concealed so that it could be revealed only when
the time was right.

The game I took pains to invent, was crucial for it enabled
the boys to live the lesson. Even without formal training as a
teacher, I was convinced that the best learning occurred during
play. Later, when the boys were tired from playing, they reviewed
the exercise and sought to build a greater understanding of
whatever strategy had been involved.

Not all the games were of war. Indeed, on some days when the
weather worsened, I kept the boys indoors and held my lesson in
the Great Hall. There, I undertook exercises of a different type,
but where strategy was always paramount. One day, it was cold and
raining and growing dark when we entered the Great Hall to begin
the lesson. It was not close to evening for the approaching
winter solstice brought the darkness ever earlier. Much to the
confusion of my two dozen eager pupils, I arranged the boys in
pairs. I distributed two boys by every column so positioned that
they could not see each other. Their bellies were full from a
recent repast, so they were content to sit and be quiet for a
while, obviating the need for a story to be told. I had them play
the game of chess. However, instead of playing the game as if for
fun, I set the goal to win at any cost except by cheating. The
problem was that one boy had to keep all of the pieces and their
locations in his head. His partner was not so limited and played
his game upon the checkered board. He had to call out the row and
column of his last move, in return for which his opponent replied
with the position of his response. In every case but one, the
player with the board before him was the victor.

When every match had been played, I reversed the positions,
and demonstrated again, the limit of the untrained mind. It was a
simple lesson whose objective should have been quickly realized
and measures taken to achieve a different outcome. Nonetheless,
it was often the simplest things that are the most difficult to
understand and learn. As usual, Michel thrived while other
struggled. When no one else had grasped the nature of the
problem, I gathered the boys around me. With more than passing
interest, I observed that the Master had stopped to watch from
the entrance to his private chambers, as indeed had Master Devon,
although he kept his distance and was nearly out of sight
standing just within the Library. For this reason and no other,
he did not observe the Master's presence.

"Well, boys?" I prompted with a frankness that should have
encouraged several to respond. "Who won without the board to aid
them?"

"It's impossible, Master Aidan. No one can remember what is
happening on the board. There are too many pieces and places
where they could be to keep it all in my head."

Vail was a Vulturnus and newly introduced to the class,
although he was in his third year at the Mount. I nodded
appreciatively and the handsome lad. He was twelve years old, and
some would say that he was at the crest of beauty.

"Indeed, you are correct, Vale. Each side has sixteen pieces
so there are thirty-two pieces to the game in all. There are
sixty-four squares into which the pieces can be moved. Even
without applying the rules of engagement for the game, the
possible configurations are vexing even to imagine. So it is easy
to understand why it is hard to win without the board to help you
remember what was where."

"For goodness sake!" Master Devon growled.

He pushed some of the boys to the side as he stepped down
from the ambulatory and made his way to where I was standing by
taking great strides that stretched his robe to the point of
tearing the hem. He stopped a pace before me, leaning into my
face with grim and challenging eyes.

"What nonsense is this? This lesson is a waste of time," he
added with a decadent flourish of his hand. "You are teaching
them to lose at chess? Or how to be confused, perhaps?"

"I beg your pardon, Master Devon," I said demurely. "
Perhaps you might explain exactly what you mean?"

"What I mean is that you are wasting their time with trite
and meaningless teaching. There is no reason to this worth
learning."

He said this with slowly and with precise enunciation as if
he was speaking either to a person whose hearing was impaired or
to one whose wits were considerably less than his. I did not care
to dispute my methods or purpose with him, yet I needed to
respond before my pupils were diverted by his blatant ridicule.
The boys were just starting to grasp my message. I would have
hated to lose them when the goal was so close.

"What is trite and meaningless to one person may be the
salvation of another. The lessons I teach are the lessons I have
learned in the field," I said pointedly.

"Ha! How then please take the time to explain how playing
chess will help them win in battle?"

"Why Master Devon, I would have thought that obvious to a
man who is experienced as you."

My sarcasm produced a ripple of mirth among the boys, but
none looked up. Each boy carefully averted his eyes, each
watching the flagstone floor with considerable effort. I heard a
soft voice, smooth and delicate, mutter.

"Who spoke?" Master Devon shouted.

A few moments passed before Michel cautiously raised his
hand. Although he was visibly afraid, he met the man's eyes with
determined resolution not to show his fear.

"You! The Favonius whelp who breaks the rules. I am not
surprised."

"If you please sir, Master Devon," Michel said so quietly
that I had to listen carefully to catch his words. "This is
Master Aidan's class."

"What of it?. You're a pitiable excuse for a boy! Once
you're ringed it'll be a different story. I'll make your arse my
home. Would you like that, my little slut? Ask Sandor how big my
cock is? I'll fuck you every hour until your hole is so large
you'll still be able to shit even when you're plugged. You'll
soon learn to mind your tongue."

Sandor, who had played the game with Michel and lost both
times, spoke up. "Master Devon, he was about to reveal the secret
to us."

"Secret? What secret? The only secret I know of on the Mount
is where you take that Favonius brat to fuck at night."

"What I do with Kadri or anyone else is none of your
concern," Sandor retorted.

Master Devon guffawed. "I know what you like, Sandor, and it
isn't a prick that's smaller than my thumb. Your Master Aidan
cannot defend himself? What is to be learned by lesson that
teaches you to lose at chess because you have no board to hold
the pieces?"

"Not everyone lost, Master Devon" Sandor said brightly.
"Michel won both times when I played him. There is a reason why
he won and I want to know his secret."

"You want to know? Surely the answer is simple enough that
even you can see it," Master Devon said cynically.

"Then perhaps you'll explain it to us," I interjected.

Master Devon paused. He glared at me, even angrier than
before. "Because he cheated. The brat's a liar and a thief. He
cheats and breaks the rules whenever he wants to win."

"I do not," Michel shouted. "I DO NOT CHEAT!"

He rose to his feet, adopting a stance that left no question
of his fury. He knew better than to attack a master, but he was
so aroused that he could easily lose control. Indeed, the
expression on Master Devon's face and his sarcastic voice was
enough to make even the calmest person turn violent.

"Michel," I counseled. "Be calm, like the Favonius wind.
That is your strength."

Master Devon laughed. "Yes, Michel. Listen to your master.
Be calm. Be like the coward you are."

"Michel, of all the four dozen games played, how did you
manage to win both of your games with Sandor?" I asked with zeal.

Michel smiled. "It was easy Master Aidan, at least it was
easy as soon as I realized that I could never remember all the
moves that had been made. I had to devise a method to keep the
pieces in order. It would have been different if I had only
wanted to enjoy the game, but you were very clear in saying that
winning was the goal."

"That's true," I said. "So tell me how you managed to keep
the order of the game."

"Nonsense! Utter nonsense!" Master Devon scowled.

I gave him a deprecating look which caused some of the boys
to snicker. That served to make him even angrier.

"You are wasting their time. This has nothing at all to do
with battle," he argued hotly.

"In that you are mistaken," I said softly.

"Pray tell the value of this stupid game," Master Devon
demanded.

"Ah,...." I smiled. "The last battle of Samar Plain? The
Crusade of Thierry of Capricorn? The encounters along the Wilton
River?"

"I know them all," Master Devon interjected. "None of them
involve the game of chess. The last battle on the Samar involved
a hundred legions of men and boys against a multitude of
infidels. We won despite overwhelming odds. It is a classic study
of the disbursement of assets in the field. There were no pawns
or castles, not even a bishop."

"That's true," I concurred. "Perhaps you might explain how
the order of the battle was controlled," I added.

Master Devon shrugged. "I do not know how the generals
organized. It is of little importance once that war was won"

"They employed a simple tool to prevent the combat from
becoming a mle?" I asked pointedly. "Perhaps it is the same
tool that Michel used to win his game of chess. What did you do
to remember the placement of your assets, Michel?"

It was so quiet that the drone of a fly could be heard. I
sensed the presence of evil. Not close, but not so far away that
it could be put aside. Michel shivered. He could feel it as well.
The chill. The creeping sense of something wrong. I glanced
around. There was a smell too, a sour smell, a dank smell, a
smell that left me cold.

"Well, Michel?"

Michel turned, visibly agitated. The Master stepped out of
the shadows.

"How did you win, Michel?" the Master asked softly.

"I,... I used some little stones."

"He used some little stones," Master Devon said
sarcastically.

"Let him finish," the Master said dryly.

"I used them like chess pieces on a board that I scratched
upon the floor."

"Ah, a representation of the game. Good boy, Michel! The
same way that the general controlled the order of the battle," I
admitted with a smile. "What you have employed is an essential
device to formulate any strategy when there are many forces to
consider. When there is a great deal to bring to bear, resort to
creating a reproduction of the problem."

"What?" Master Devon asked argumentatively. "Such battles as
Samar are too complex for any mind to grasp. One side wins or
loses depending on its fortune. It is as much a turn of the dice
as any thing that you can teach."

"It's very simple for anyone to understand if he cared to
think," I answered brusquely. "Michel has developed a paradigm
that we can all learn from. He has discovered by virtue of
necessity, a tool to be applied when we must grasp a complex
situation. Done properly, battles can be won or lost by
intelligence instead of relying on a roll of dice. The battle of
Samar followed a carefully formulated plan."

"A plan?" Master Devon suggested with unconcealed ennui.

"Yes, I have seen them drawn to show the detailed
arrangement of our citadel," the Master interrupted. "Is that
what you imply?"

"Yes, but more than that, Master. In the case pursuant, the
representation is an analogy to capture every important detail,
but by reason of its scale, allows an overview."

"What detail?" Kadri asked.

"Why, anything that could affect the battle I suppose,"
Michel explained absently. "I merely had to mark the squares upon
the ground, but just as easily I could have found some clay to
shape the ground to represent mountains, rivers, and plains."

Sandor grinned as my lesson sank home. "Of course! One could
place stones to represent the legions, and,... Master Aidan? Is
that what the general did?"

"Yes, Sandor. We had knowledge of the enemy's positions and
we located our warriors to take advantage of terrain. As the
battle developed, legions could be repositioned to gain
surprise."

"Enough! This is a waste of time," Master Devon said
dismissively. He turned on his heel, and silently scowling at
Michel, stalked away.

The Master nodded thoughtfully. "A good lesson, Master
Aidan. I had not thought that your objective was to stir a boy's
mind to invent something so profound."

I regarded him, waiting. All of the boys were watching. He
scratched his nose.

"Yes, a very good lesson indeed," he added as much to
himself as to the group before him. "And only Michel discerned
the solution?"

"Yes, Master," I acknowledged. "Only Michel won his game. It
is possible to remember all the moves when the mind is trained to
find an order. However, such effort is put into the memory that
it is impossible to consider the moves ahead. That is the purpose
of strategy, and a representation is usually beneficial."

"A good point indeed," the Master agreed. His countenance
darkened. "Have you finished the lesson for today, Master Aidan?"

"Usually I complete the lesson with a review of what has
been learned, or a story to reinforce," I answered. "I think that
our discussion has provided grist for their minds today."

"Perhaps you would be so good as to adjourn to my chamber,"
the Master intoned bleakly. "There is a matter of great import
that I need to discuss with you."

"Of course," I replied.

"And bring Michel too, if you will."

I felt a sudden weight pressing guiltily upon me. At first
all I could think of was that the Master had been informed by one
of the boys of what had transpired during the previous night.
Yet, despite my failure, Michel remained a virgin. And, as far as
I knew there were no witnesses of my indiscretion. Fortunately,
Kiann was sound asleep when I encroached between Michel's
buttocks.

Sharing a remorseful glance with Michel, we followed after
he had gone a few paces. Behind us, the boys began to whisper,
exchanging nervous words about the reason for our conference with
the Master.

He closed the door behind us and walked slowly to the far
wall where he stopped before the fireplace. He poked at the
embers for nearly a minute, added another log, stared into the
flickering flames.

"It's about Michel," he said softly, "that I wanted to
talk."

Michel shivered anxiously, calming only when I firmly placed
my hand upon his thin shoulder. He turned to look up at me and I
smiled and nodded confidently, concealing the apprehension that I
felt.

"The Order is about to change," the Master continued. He
glanced at Michel. "For good reason I have restricted my
involvement. Under the circumstances I thought it best that we
meet beforehand. I trust that he is ready, Master Aidan?"

"As ready as any boy can be," I replied.

"His training has proceeded properly?"

"He is ready in every way that I know," I responded.

The Master gestured for me to release my hold upon Michel.
With a gentle push I directed him to step forward. I was proud of
him as he came closer to the man for his eyes did not avert but
stayed focused and direct with the same buoyant intensity that I
had come to appreciate in him. He showed no hesitation and did
not waver until he was an arm's length from the Master of the
Mount.

"So, Michel." The man's face showed a hint of admiration for
the beautiful boy who stood before him. "You know what it means
for the Order to change?"

"I must be ringed,... like Kadri," Michel said quietly. "I
know what happens, Master."

"And are you ready, boy? Do you think you can bear the brunt
of a man's cock without crying like a girl?"

"I'm sure I can!" Michel rebounded. He giggled. "I have been
looking forward for days to what will happen in the Chapel."

"Yes, I expect you are by now. And have you selected the man
who will ring your rose?"

"I have, Sir. I am to be honored by Master Aidan."

"A good decision, Michel. I would have picked no one other.
I know of no other man who is worthy of you. From what I have
heard, you will have a rose to be proud of. I hope you have
practiced hard?"

Michel smiled shyly and glanced over his shoulder at me. I
nodded reassuringly. Few boys would lie upon the altar to be
initiated who were as well prepared as Michel. He had learned his
lessons with great diligence and considerable aplomb. I was very
proud of him.

"Yes Sir," Michel answered respectfully.

"And his opening, Aidan? Has it been well prepared?" the
Master asked of me.

I did not answer in words but instead I held up three
fingers to indicate the girth. My response prompted a chuckle for
the Master.

"So large already? A true Favonius, I think. You've had
three fingers in his ass, Aidan?"

"Quite often," I admitted. "Though I must admit he much
prefers a single digit."

"Don't they all," the Master laughed. The adage is entirely
appropriate I dare say. One finger reaches to the place of joy,
two fingers stretches the insides, and three fingers makes the
hole wider."

"All true, I'm sure," I responded with a smile. "Although
Michel will orgasm with one or more."

"A good sign of a hale and hearty bum," the Master
acknowledged. "No doubt he'll take a vigorous fucking when his
time comes. Well, Michel. What say you shed your robe and reveal
your charms."

Michel looked at me expectantly, not seeking permission or
approval, but signaling his nervousness. For a boy whose beauty
was beyond compare it often struck me as both amusing and sad
that he could display such anxiety. There was no man alive who
could look upon his body and find him wanting in any measure save
those poor unfortunates who preferred their boys to be with hair.

Hesitantly, his small hands unfastened the knotted sash
around his waist. The Master's hand reached out and took it from
him. Then Michel's arms lifted up, drawing the robe higher until
his lower body was exposed. A moment later the robe was lifted
past his head and it dropped noiselessly to the floor to lie in a
crumpled heap. No matter how often I gazed upon his naked flesh,
I was always taken back by his stunning form. Surely, the boy
reached the apogee of human beauty, so splendid that one had to
think he had been sculpted by divine inspiration. There was no
flaw to mar his utter perfection.

In the glowing ruddy light from the fire, his glabrous
honey-colored skin was radiant, golden and imbued with life. I
stared, as the Master stared, transfixed by his small male part.
Already it was pointing to the heavens as only a young boy's
penis can. The foreskin had not retracted and still enclosed the
minute head. His scrotum was small, like many boys of his age. It
was all but concealed beneath. I was glad to see that he was
unabashed in his nudity, meeting the Master's eyes with brazen
lust. In response, the Master nodded approvingly, smiling
slightly as if enjoying a private joke. He turned to me.

"A splendid lad, Aidan. Not large like some boys are, but of
a size to be a respected. I have always thought that for a boy,
the penis is a decoration. An ornament, rather than a functional
tool. What should a boy need between his legs when his companion
is well endowed?"

.

."Just enough to show his lover that he is male," I
finished.

"So true."

The Master tapped his thigh to indicate where Michel should
sit. He appraised the boy's body further when he turned and sat
back on the offered seat. The Master smiled appreciatively.

"He has a delightful bottom, Aidan. It is the equal of any
boy I've seen. Once he's ringed he'll never want for a companion
during the night. I'm sure."

I answered with a grin. Michel scowled at me to show his
displeasure, but even that was feeble. He had been complimented
in a very special way and he had reason to be proud.

'Now Michel, let me test the hardness of this thing between
your legs. What is your nickname?" he added as his hand gently
enclosed the tender shaft.

The Master cupped Michel's sex for quite some time while his
other hand reassuringly fondled the young boy's thighs. Satisfied
that Michel's penis could become no stiffer, his fingers brushed
along the skin, pulling down with a firm grasp. The foreskin
opened slowly to reveal the delicate bud within.

"Miel," Michel replied, uttering a faint gasp, that could
have been a whimper of pain, or the sound of delight.

"Miel? Ah, the boy of honey. Appropriate, for you have the
tone, but you're as sweet as honey too, from what I've heard. Did
it hurt then? Sometimes a boy experiences discomfort when the
skin is retracted."

"No, Sir. It feels nice like this."

That's good. Now, it s one of my tasks, though a very
pleasant one I'm sure, to examine the behind of every boy before
he's ringed. Do you know why, Michel?"

Michel thought for a moment. "Because if it's too small I
might be hurt?" he suggested.

"Yes. Your initiation should be a time of joy. A tight hole
at best will cause you pain, and at worst, well, you could be
seriously injured. That is why Master Aidan had used his fingers
in there. It is an important task that must be completed before
your initiation. Two or three fingers at the very least are
needed every night to get you ready. Indeed, there are implements
that can be employed to introduce a boy to taking something
larger."

"Yes, Sir. I've done that too, although I still cannot take
the one that Kadri uses."

"I'm not surprised. Kadri has a hole that's nearly the same
size as that of a man," the Master laughed. "Fetch the lard, boy,
and let us see how many fingers you can take before you squeal."

Michel stood up and walked towards the table His little
penis was straight and hard, unwavering as he went. Again, the
Master's eyes followed his every move, staring fixedly at
Michel's buttocks as if they held the answer to every question.
He licked his lips hungrily. I tensed instinctively as I
recognized another man's interest in my boy.

The Master opened the jar and scooped out some of the lard
on two fingers while Michel stood obediently before him waiting
for his turn to show his training. Using his thumb, the Master
smeared the grease over both fingers. He placed his other hand on
Michel's right buttock and turned him slightly.

"Present yourself,... Bend over and part your cheeks,
Michel," the Master confirmed.

Even as he bowed in submission, Michel looked to me for
encouragement. I nodded slowly, confident that he would pass this
test. His hands moved behind him to grasp his cheeks and spread
them wider. For a moment, the Master's fingers stroked along
Michel's crevice, dispersing the lard, while concentrating most
of it where it would be needed.

"Ah, joy of joys. He has a splendid bottom," the Master
observed affectionately. "It's a little tight, of course, but
that's the way it's supposed to be," he added inconsequentially.
"He has a robust muscle, doesn't he Aidan? It's as strong as any
other that I've tested. It's suited to holding a man's cock in
his embrace."

"Well, we've worked to make it stronger," I replied. "I've
had him use a teardrop stone," I elaborated.

Michel was used to carrying a fair-sized stone within his
bowels throughout the day when he was not involved in strenuous
activity. Indeed, it was purely by mischance that he had not a
stone within him when the Master bade us enter his chamber. The
stone exercised the sphincter muscle as a boy exerted control to
move it around inside him. With practice, and Michel had plenty
of practice, he could excrete the stone so that in was nearly
pushed out of him. Then by tightening his muscle in a series of
cramping inward pulls, draw in up inside his bowels until it was
past his erotic zone.

The Master nodded approvingly. "Good for you. I've always
preferred a boy who has a muscular sphincter and knows how to use
it to affect my pleasure. I think it's so much better than a weak
and ineffectual hole that does little to exert control. One might
as well fuck a woman if a boy's anal band is feeble."

"Too true, although I've never had the opportunity to
penetrate a woman's arse."

The Master guffawed. "Neither have I, Aidan, although I
expect very few of them are willing to take a man's cock into
their arse. All women want is our seed so they can perpetuate the
species. The joy of fucking a smooth-skinned boy is far
preferable in my opinion."

His fingers twisted and pressed inward, penetrating beyond
the second joints. Michel stood his ground resolutely, uttering
only a whimper as his bowels were stretched wide. He braced
himself as best he could, still clasping his cheeks to keep them
well apart. The Master's hand levered upwards, lifting Michel's
feel off the floor. I grimaced and Michel groaned. I had never
lifted him by that part, although I had often inserted my fingers
as far as they could go. Michel's legs twitched as the Master
allowed his feet to touch the ground again.

"Let's see how hard you can squeeze down, boy," the Master
said. "I want you to squeeze as hard as you can, Michel."

"I,.... I,... I'm,.... Trying," Michel groaned.

"He can exert a respectable pressure for one so young," the
Master commented as much to me as to himself. "Not bad at all and
he'll only improve with experience. Try again, Michel. This time
close your eyes and bear down with all your strength. Don't think
that you are squeezing on my fingers, but instead you are
endeavoring to force the seed out from a man's penis. Take a deep
breath and concentrate. You are going to squeeze the seed from it
so that it squirts within your bowels."

Michel closed his eyes and strained, using all his strength
as he tightened his anus around the Master's fingers. His face
showed the signs of stress, reddened cheeks and clenched teeth.
His body quivered, his buttocks pinched and taut. He groaned,
feeling the fingers dragging out then returning forcefully. Going
deeper. Twisting and turning within his body. Compressing the
tiny gland that was the source of a boy's joy. He gasped aloud,
grunting as he continued to increase the pressure against the
stabbing fingers. He was no stranger to orgasms from behind, but
the one that came was so swift and savage that it took him by
surprise.

"Oh, Aidan," he wailed.

He shuddered. His knees buckled. He would have fallen to the
ground but for the Master's fingers lodged in his behind. He
twitched and writhed and jerked, then he gasped suddenly. There
was a brutal spasm of contorted energy as his ecstasy peaked, and
for a few pulsing, frantic moments he achieved his little death.
The Master regarded me dispassionately as Michel slumped back,
still quaking from the intensity of his orgasm.

"I think he's ready,... for his lover," he said softly. He
caressed Michel's bare back, musing before he spoke. He nodded
thoughtfully. "The augury is good. I had feared an omen of ill
result, but the lad has proven that he is ready."

He coughed, then took a deep long breath. "He'll be
initiated tonight, Master Aidan," he said simply.

"Tonight?" I asked, taken aback by the suddenness of it.

"There is no time to waste. The time is late. He'd best go
back to your chamber and have the other boys get him ready."

"But it is so soon, Master?" Michel asked uncertainly as he
awkwardly stood up. He seemed unsteady on his feet, even more
than was usual afterwards. He wobbled and placed his hand upon
the table to steady himself.

"There's still two days until the Order changes," I stated,
although I knew that the rules of the Mount allowed a leeway of
several days to either side of the given date.

The Master shook his head. "A man for Tain awaits in the
village below."

He stalked to the narrow slit of a window and gazed out over
the flat expanse of sand before focusing on the causeway far
below. Michel swayed. He trembled, still distraught from the
ongoing sensations within his pelvis. He breathed quickly,
panting. I had never seen him so shaken up. Usually, he was
tranquil in the bliss that ensued, his body momentarily drained
of strength. The Master ignored or was not aware of Michel's
exhaustion.

"And I am pleased to see that a new Favonius boy is just now
crossing the bridge," he added. "A handsome lad is my assessment.
You'd enjoy this new boy, Aidan. He's from the distant north and
as pale-skinned as any boy I've seen without suffering the blight
of anemia."

"I beg your pardon, Master?"

He turned away from the window. "The Oracle, Aidan," he said
by way of explanation. When I did not show surprise, he
continued. "It is foretold," he added confidently. "All is
foretold. Let me see if I remember. 'He shall bear a rose before
his time, a rose that must be larger than any other for him to be
admitted'."

"I don't understand," Michel protested.

"It's not for you to understand, my honey-skinned boy. This
a prophesy that while it concerns you, neither has an
explanation, or requires one to be given to you. In due time you
will understand and all will become clear to you. For now,
continue to place your trust in Master Aidan."

I spoke slowly, still unconvinced that there was any
relationship between the Master's oracle and Michel. "I have
consulted the ancient records, Master. I found no sign of an
oracle that could concern Michel."

"Ha!" the Master exhaled. "But there is. It is not recorded
in any book that you would know," he explained mysteriously.
"Nonetheless, its all there, Aidan. Details of a future that will
soon become the present. Even how he shakes when a finger abrades
his inner gland. It portends for more than a modicum of pleasure
of the higher sort."

"True enough. He's an orgasmic as any boy I've seen," I
confirmed with a smile that was both from pride in Michel's
accomplishment and my fond memories of his abilities. "One night,
just recently, he reached the pinnacle no less than five times
before he slept, and only from a single finger. He's lucky
compared to most boys who get but one or two peaks before their
energy is sapped."

"Indeed," the Master nodded. "It is more than luck that
makes him tremble."

"I assumed that he was more sensitive in there than is the
norm, although he is never tender afterwards. Perhaps the nerves
that line his orifice are more acute," I suggested. "He has
remarkable control as well."

"That too is described in the Oracle, Aidan. He squeezed my
finger harder than any boy I've known. It's a joy to exercise his
anus. Have you tested the boy's orifice with your member?"

"Just last night," I answered honestly.

"But you did not pierce him beyond the muscle?"

"No, Master. I stopped before the rim was through him."

There was no need to lie about it since we had not completed
the penetration. Besides, the way that he had asked the question
left little doubt in my mind that he knew what had transpired
between us.

"Good. He took it without complaint I presume?"

"Only when he stopped," Michel answered before I could. He
smirked lewdly, as shameless as a boy could be. "I wanted him
inside me more than I could stand."

"Ha! You're a randy little pup aren't you, Michel?" the
Master laughed. "Even compared to Sandor, who's as hot as any boy
I've had the pleasure to mentor."

Michel giggled. We both were well aware of Sandor's
eagerness. Indeed, only a few nights ago we had shared the bed
with Sandor and Kadri. I mounted both of them after they were
done. Michel, never one to be jealous, observed and commented
enthusiastically as Sandor pumped staccato-like against Kadri's
upraised rump. Indeed, he pummeled the boy so thoroughly that he
was still loose when I took my turn.

"Speaking of the games boys play. Have you had the pleasure
of having another boy inside you, Michel?" the Master inquired
teasingly. "Kadri perhaps? Or that little Vulturnus stud, your
friend Sandor?"

I turned my head and watched as Michel shook his head. His
answer confirmed what as well. I counted myself fortunate in that
unlike most boys, Michel displayed negligible interest in other
boys.

"Excellent. A lot of our boys are tempted by their friends.
Not that I am disturbed by a boy being mounted by his peers, but
teaching the art of love is best done by a man."

"I've gone into the cave only once," Michel added shyly,.
"as Master Aidan knows because he was just outside."

"Ah, the cave," the Master said fondly. "And what size did
you manage, lad?"

"It was the tusk of a boar, I think."

"So small? I would have thought you would take something a
bit larger," the Master said reprovingly. "A boar's tusk is
hardly enough to stretch the hole. And only once? Most boys will
go there every other day, and sometimes more."

Michel shrug and smiled. "I can't see the point of sticking
a piece of ivory in my bum. I much prefer Master Aidan's fingers.
It feels so much nicer."

"An interesting observation I must say. Neither boy or
ivory? It bodes well for your future, does it not Master Aidan."

"Yes." I smiled at Michel. "I pity the poor man who receives
his favor."

The Master darkened instantly. "So much in that respect is
foretold by the Oracle that it disturbs me. One hopes that the
boy is not misled when it comes to the act that confirms his
love. I fear others will take advantage of his gentle and
generous nature."

"Not if I have anything to do about it," I said under my
breath.

"I expect you will ensure his fidelity if not his chastity,"
the Master said with amusement as he ambled across the room to
stop before the fire. "However, whatever happens you must
remember that the Oracle must be followed for his sake as much as
any other."

"Master, if you have knowledge that concerns either of us, I
beg you to reveal it," Michel said boldly.

His question was met with cold silence. Finally, the Master
spoke, but to me as if Michel did not exist. "He must leave the
Mount with you by dawn tomorrow, Aidan. By then he will have his
rose freshly made between his cheeks."

"So soon," I said bitterly. "He will be sore behind if I
have anything to do with it, and the weather does not bode well
for travel."

"Daresay I repeat myself, Aidan. The Oracle is precise and
there is no time to waste. You must be ready to leave by the
dawn. Michel, return to your chamber and inform the other boys
that they are to get you ready for tonight. Aidan, you'd best
stay here with me. There is much for us to discuss before you go
to the Chapel."

We waited in silence until Michel dressed, both of us
appreciating his splendid body until the interesting parts were
concealed from sight. I watched with an ominous sense of
premonition as he refastened his sash, for the last time as a
virgin. He walked unsteady, his thighs still quivering in a
disquieting reminder of his frenzied climax. I had never
encouraged him to squeeze on my finger so tightly for the simple
reason that his pleasure was already so intense that further
pressure was not required. I smiled at him reassuringly as he
opened the door and departed.

"I have seen many beautiful boys, but never did a boy take
my breath away like that one," the Master said approvingly. His
voice changed, becoming little more than a faint whisper. "Truly,
he is the only boy who will be able to defeat the dragon."

I stared at the Master with shocked eyes. The silence
pervaded the room with chilling absence.

"The dragon?" I asked after a long while. My gloom was
pervading. I could thing of nothing else except the charred
remains of the boy I loved. "I do not understand why Michel must
follow in his brother's footsteps. I have had enough of oracles
and predictions. I have lost enough. I will not surrender another
boy to that evil creature. What power, what force of nature, what
prophet demands his brother for a dragon's sustenance?"

"Aidan, it must be Michel. It is not my choice. The Oracle
is precise. I wish it was another who must go with you."

"Why must it be Michel?" I demanded. "I love him, and not
the way that I am supposed to love him. I have failed him as I
failed his brother," I added miserably. "

"Yes, I know you love him. Do you think I am blind? However,
it is that love that will sustain the two of you. Tell me, Aidan.
Did you love his brother more?"

"I,... I,... No!"

"You loved him as a boy, did you not? You loved him in the
way that men love boys?"

"Yes. And more than satisfying the need within me, I loved
him as a friend and companion. "

"I'm glad. And what of Michel? How would you describe your
love for him, Aidan?"

"My heart breaks when he is not near me, Master. Every time
I look upon him, my heart glows. I love him more than I can say.
I will not lose him."

"You will not lose him. If anything the love you share with
him will become even stronger. He will be victorious because of
your love."

"I am frightened, Master," I admitted. "I have seen signs
that portend a fight with evil."

He nodded. "It is good that you are honest, Aidan. Tell me
what you have seen."

"Among the tapestries in the Great Hall," I began
uncertainly. I took a deep long breath. "If the light is right,
there is one that shows a dragon fighting with several boys, and
one boy in particular,... if it is looked at from far below."

The Master regarded me curiously. "A dragon? Which
tapestry?"

"The one in the center, Master. It was quite some time
ago,... at breakfast,... when I had just recovered my senses,...
though I was still quite weak. The sun came through the stained
glass windows and shone upon the opposite wall."

"And?" the Master prompted. "Tell me more of what your saw."

"For a few moments, while the sunlight was oblique, there
was a pattern that I had never seen before. At first I could not
believe my eyes, but there was no question of what I saw. There
was a dragon battling with a boy, several boys actually."

"Three boys," the Master said quietly. "The Oracle calls for
three boys."

"There were three,... and a man,...." I added awkwardly.

"You! And tell me, Aidan, did the boy who fought the dragon
look like Michel? And the other lads? Was there a similarity to
any boy you've seen upon the Mount?"

"Sandor was one," I said after a moment's thought. "The
other boy reminded me strongly of Kadri."

Sandor and Kadri?" he ascertained quietly. I nodded slowly.
"Young Sandor's cock is still much too small to pleasure Kadri.
However, there is a reason behind everything, even when two boys
choose to mate when they would receive more pleasure from a man.
I am not surprised, although it is seldom that two boys become so
closely attached before their balls have dropped."

"I do not know where they go at night, but given what I've
seen of Kadri's anus, they have found an admirable substitute."

The Master smiled. "Well, you've taught them to be creative,
Aidan. By the way, that tapestry is called the 'The Evil From
Above,' though why it bore that name I was never sure, until just
now. I suspected it contained a secret pursuant to the Oracle. I
have examined it many times. Indeed, I even had it taken down so
that I could look at it very closely, but I found nothing to
explain the name."

"I have never seen the dragon on the tapestry since," I
continued. "Indeed, I had thought that I was hallucinating from
my fever. There was no reason why I should have looked up when I
did except,...."

"Except what, Aidan?"

"Except that I thought I should. That I needed to see
something,.... I have had similar sensations." I quieted. "Tell
me about the Oracle, Master."

"There is not a lot to tell, Aidan. In the pieces that I
have described, and what you have seen in the tapestry upon the
wall, you know most of it already. I suspected that you were the
one as soon as you appeared upon the threshold of the Mount. I
harbored a doubt or two when I realized your need to escape from
the horror of Etienne's death, yet when Michel appeared the
following day it all became abundantly clearer."

"This is difficult to understand," I said absently. "Tell me
the Oracle."

The Master gazed into the embers of the fire, glowing red-
hot.

"Of body, the boy sweetens the heart with his love,

	Beauty unequaled and skin colored to the honey,

Of desire, the boy gives more than other to his lover,

	The pinnacle is his to take from within,

Of mind, the boy reaches out and learns while loved,

	Then teaches with inventive candor,

Of heart, the boy lives only to give a man his loving,

	And in pleasure he is always mounted."

"That is Michel, in every word," I acknowledged. "He'll
always be passionate but never anything more than passive. And he
reaches the pinnacle so easily that I'm jealous," I laughed.

"So I noticed," the Master noted. "And the rest of it? Is it
a fair description?"

"Of what you said, some of it strikes me with great insight.
You mentioned teaching with inventive candor? Sometimes in class
he makes me think that I'm the student and he is the teacher. It
could be no other boy but Michel. Not even his brother is so
aptly described."

"It was written a thousand years ago, Aidan. There is more.
The next part describes you, a man who comes to the 'boys upon
the Mount'. A man who has no reason to live, but to love the boy
more than any other. It's followed by the story of how he falls
in love with the boy, and on the 'night before the rose is drawn,
barely holds his need back.'"

"Oh? 'Barely' is an understatement," I admitted. "If I
hadn't mounted another boy only a few minutes earlier,...."

The Master chuckled. "Drained in strength and seed, no
doubt? There is a paragraph in the Oracle that is about the two
boys who will accompany you and Michel. I did not know who they
were. Indeed, I was beginning to worry that the Oracle was
incomplete for it did not identify those boys, but described
their love as 'being stronger than the chains that bound
Prometheus."

"Hardly a poetic image for love, but doubtless true for
Sandor and Kadri. Those two boys are very close," I mused aloud.
"And the rest of the Oracle?" I prompted.

"Is not for you to know, save that I will send you and
Michel upon a quest. At the risk of restating the obvious, you
are to chose two other boys to accompany you."

"What quest?" I asked. "You would have me search for some
Grail of mythical repute?"

"Ah, you're not far from the truth. Your quest is for the
Holy Grail of our kind. The ancient philosopher and lover of
boys, Plato, actually spoke of it in a dialog within 'Timaeus'.
Let me see if I can remember the exact words. 'A sacred oil was
used by Zeus, a libation of limitless lubricity contained within
a vessel itself wrought of divine inspiration'. You are looking
for a flask that holds oil, Aidan. Nothing more or less than
that!"

"A flask of oil?" I repeated. "What has a flask of oil got
to do with a dragon?"

"The dragon uses it to prepare its victims."

I did not grasp his meaning at first. Understanding came
suddenly sand without warning. My mouth dropped open and I gaped
at the Master with shock.

"Etienne,... he,... he was sodomized,... by the dragon,...
before it consumed him," I managed to say before I covered my
face in the sheer horror of what had been done to him.

"Yes?" the Master prompted. "What you will seek is a very
special oil, Aidan. It has properties unlike any other. Not even
the special lard we use for virgins can compare, although as you
know, it has the benefit of added herbs."

"He,... he made no sound," I muttered. "There was no sound
of pain! Even though the beast nearly tore him in half with its
enormous shaft."

"That is one of the properties," the Master said curtly.
"Our herbs dull the senses to prolong the pleasure, but compared
to the oil that Plato described, it is no better than spit. It is
possible that the oil used to lubricate Etienne was,..."

"He was anointed by a god's invention so he found pleasure
in it," I finished miserably. I took a deep breath, trying hard
not to confront my memories. "You said 'victims'?"

"Etienne was not the first boy who the beast has taken. I
know of others besides Etienne. Many others. The beast has even
mounted some of the boys here."

"Boys on the Mount?" I asked with growing concern.

He did not respond at first. Then he slowly nodded. His
hands were clenched and he trembled as he expounded on his last
response. "I found the first body only four days before you
arrived."

"The day after Etienne died," I said, shaking my head
hopelessly.

"I believe the dragon takes a new victim every night," the
Master continued. "He was a delightful boy, full of life and
always happy," he elaborated sadly.

His shoulders, usually square and strong sagged so that he
appeared much older. I felt pity for him for he obviously held
himself to blame.

"Rylan, a Leo, a pretty Favonius boy who was always ready to
surprise with a new position. He was very inventive when it came
to anal entry. He was ripe at eleven. Young to start, but he took
great joy in expelling his seed. He lives, but what was taken
from his body was enough that he would prefer to die. I fear that
before long the beast will return to finish what it left."

"A new victim every day," I said to myself. "I've heard the
dragon prefers the flesh of mature boys?"

"Ah, that's true from what I've seen and read. However, it's
not always boys who have matured," the Master elaborated. "Nine
times out of ten it drinks the seed from a boy's loins until he
is dry,.... Then,.... Well perhaps it is better if I did not
describe everything. I'm sure you know what happens to them when
the beast is done. It is very depressing."

He turned away from me, still trembling noticeably. He
continued to speak without looking over his shoulder.

"It must be destroyed, Aidan. The beast,... must die,... and
the man who controls it."

"Pardon? You are suggesting that the dragon has a master?"

"Someone has nurtured the beast. Someone had guided it into
the Sanctuary. Someone has partaken of the flesh of the boys it
has ravished."

"Then you are putting Michel and the others at great risk
with this venture," I realized abruptly. "I will not risk his
life. Or Sandor's or Kadri's."

"They are at the same risk here on the Mount," the Master
argued. "Perhaps not right away, but soon enough for Sandor. His
eggs are already flushed. That as you know is the first sign of
impending puberty. In a year perhaps, with luck in two, he'll
reach maturity. Sandor's safe until then."

"That is why you are sending them to battle the dragon now,"
I countered. "Because they are seedless."

"In part that is true. Aidan, the boys will be safer because
their eggs have not dropped, but there is still a chance,...."

"You said that the dragon has taken other boys from the
Mount?"

"Yes. There was another just last night."

I gasped, remembering the frantic scream that had awakened
me in the middle of the night. At the time I had imagined that
startling sound to have been a boy's frenzied cry at the moment
of ecstasy. Now, I was not so certain.

"Aidan?"

There was concern in his voice. The shock had caused the
blood to drain from my face, leaving me blanched and without a
sound. I heard the Master call my name again. And then again,
insistently, until I finally managed to break my reverie. I
turned to look at him.

"Who was it?" I muttered.

"A Vulturnus, Martin, a Capricorn. All things considered,
he's very lucky."

"Why?" I hesitated before I asked the question that was
foremost on my mind. "Is he still alive?"

The Master nodded slightly. "He's in the infirmary." He
stopped, visibly unwilling to explain what had transpired and the
nature of the boy's injuries.

"Did the dragon?....." I began.

I could not say the words, so strong was the image of what
had happened to Etienne. After sex, his hole was always wider for
a boy's opening had to stretch to accommodate a man's much larger
girth, but it was not horrific. Not like after the dragon had
finished with him.

"Yes."

Master Aidan's simple statement made me groan aloud. So
large. Impossibly large. Larger than a mouth when it was wide
open. A huge gaping hole that revealed his innards deep within
him. And the seed, the ugly filthy seed that the dragon deposited
there. So foul that a boy chose death instead of living with the
knowledge of what had been done to him.

"He might try to kill himself," I murmured.

"I am aware of that," he replied. "I've had his hands tied
securely and he's been given laudanum to control the pain. For
the present, he stays asleep, but who knows what nightmares are
in his head."

"What happened?" I asked, fearful of what he would say.

"I expect the lad was going back to his bed,.... Vulturnus,
you will remember from your own days on the Mount, often frequent
the chambers of the Favonius boys at night."

"All too well, I remember going through the halls in the
middle of the night," I answered with a faint smile that quickly
faded as I imagined the boy padding on bare feet across the
flagstones.

"He's a tall boy and easily mistaken for being older than
ten. I think the dragon made the same mistake. Martin's not
mature, although his male parts are anything but small."

"At ten, it's more than likely that he's dry. Of course,
that's why he's still alive," I thought aloud.

"More than likely that's the reason he's not dead. Poor boy!
He's lucky to still have his eggs. They've been badly bruised as
you might expect when the dragon realized. In his anger, he all
but tore the boy's testicles off. And his anus, well,... It'll
take some time before that Vulturnus is ready to go to a man's
bed again."

"Better a loosened anus than what would had happened had he
been ripe," I said angrily. The more my mind dwelled upon the
dragon's deed, the more infuriated I became.

"He was full of slime, Aidan. More than a dozen men could
produce. It would have been much worse if he had been mature.
I've applied a poultice to draw out the poison," he added. He
glanced at me as he spoke. "One more thing Aidan. Despite the
shame and horror of what was done to him, the boy still orgasmed
as if it was his last."

"I think I heard him cry out in the middle of the night," I
said with revulsion. "I heard a noise in the distant reaches of
the citadel. It was the sound that a boy makes when he achieves
the ultimate joy."

"You know why, of course?"

"The oil of Zeus?" I answered.

At the time, the boy would not have felt pain, just
pleasure, incredible overwhelming pleasure, pleasure that had no
end until the beast was done with him. It would be a different
matter when he awoke and found his body torn and stretched beyond
nature's limits, but he was alive. He could be nursed back to
health, and even if his anus did not resume its normal size, at
least he was alive.

"There were still traces of it around his hole," the Master
remarked clinically. "There's wasn't much, but then not a lot is
needed, even with a virgin boy. Aidan,..."

"Yes, Master," I replied, when he did not continue.

"Aidan,... I know you lost the boy you loved to a dragon.
Unless I am mistaken, it was this dragon. You must kill it, and
the man who nurtures it. It is just a matter of time before it
strikes again. All of our boys are at risk. Michel, as much as
any other."

"Yes." Then, I admitted something to myself as I spoke the
words, my head hanging down. "I will do whatever it takes to save
him from that fate."

"I am glad. However, as we both know, there is a different
fate awaiting Michel, but of no less consequence."

I looked up sharply, angered by the Master's calm acceptance
of the end result of my love for Michel. "I will not do that to
him."

"Then, if you insist on keeping Michel whole, the Sanctuary
rules require that you must wait for him," he parroted. He
prodded the fire. "You loved his older brother, Etienne, as a
warrior. You would do the same with Michel?"

"I placed great value on his love for me, and I loved him as
much as a man can love any boy, but our love pales beside what I
share with Michel. I cannot wait for him to reach the age when he
leaves the Sanctuary to fulfill my love for him."

"I have great respect for you, Aidan. And Michel, too. Not
often does a master fall in love with a boy, and have his love
returned in full measure, but it has happened in the past, and I
imagine it will happen again in the future. It is a small price
to pay for happiness."

"Not that!" I countered. "I love him the way he is, not as a
eunuch."

The Master thought before he answered. "Aidan, when there is
love there is always a way to achieve what needs to be done. It
is good that you love him as much as you do," he finished. He
gestured dismissal. "You need to prepare yourself, Aidan. Be
strong with him. Boys like Michel appreciate a man's strength
when it is unleashed for them. Do not hesitate in mounting him,
even if he cries, which I doubt he will given how easily he took
my fingers. Stay deep within him. He needs your thickness to make
a rose that confirms the Oracle." He smiled. "It's an interesting
fragment, if I remember it correctly."

'Mounted not once, or twice, or even thrice,

But count the fingers of a hand,"

To make a rose no smaller than any other,

	But a rose that did not bleed."

"Four times?" I smiled back at him. "I'm not sure I can do
that in front of every one."

"I'm sure you'll do what needs to be done, Aidan. After all,
it is Michel, you'll be mounting, so you shouldn't have a problem
of motivation. You'd best hurry. I hear the chorus. The boys are
about to enter the High Chapel."





Chapter Ten. The Rose Blooms.





I would have liked to have seen the parade of boys led by
Michel in the Great Hall. As it was, I did not see Michel again
until he came before the Altar. He was dressed simply, as a
virgin was always dressed for his initiation. His feet were bare,
yet his light stride was unbroken as he proudly crossed the cold
flagstone floor. His hair, already longer than most boys when
they ascended the stairs in eastern end of the Chapel, hung in
shining tresses to his shoulders. Someone, more than likely a few
of the younger boys had scattered the fragile white petals of
dried roses where Michel walked. It was done to honor him on the
one night of his life that he would never forget. Albeit, that
single variation from tradition aside, my Michel was more
beautiful than any boy that I had ever seen. His pretty head was
crowned by an intricate circlet woven of small white flowers. He
was attended by a slim, dark-haired older boy whose hair was
gathered into a plume that resembled the tail of a pony. That
boy, a full head higher than Michel, wore a wreath of laurel
leaves. Those simple touches, and the superb singing of the boys
as they paraded into the Chapel, sent a shiver down my spine.

It was a magical time for me as much as Michel. He walked
lightly, proudly, holding his head high and directed straight
ahead, although his eyes darted everywhere. He was consumed by
curiosity on his night of induction. Already he was well
acquainted with the bonds that joined boys and men, and although
he was inexperienced in the one way that counted, he was very
familiar with the theory of how they made love. However, the loss
of virginity changed all that. After the ceremony, when his rose
was ringed, he would be like the rest of them. With practice came
expertise, and with expertise came the ultimate joy that made
life worth living. He would know the lust that boys felt between
their buttocks and he could part his cheeks to satisfy his need
whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"He's absolutely delightful," Master Aubert commented.
"Quite the Favonius too, from what I've heard. Of course, if
anyone knows, I'm sure you do."

I nodded to the man who stood beside me. I had witnessed
Kadri's initiation in his company and enjoyed him comments almost
as much as what was happening on the Altar.

"Yes, he is," I admitted.

"A splendid boy," Master Aubert added. "He has a remarkable
mind. He controls his body so thoroughly it seems instinctive.
Daresay, he'll be able to achieve supreme control before much
longer. Not that he needs it. He has more stamina than most of
the older boys have."

"He has a remarkable mind in other ways," I said.

"Yes, I've noticed. I'm glad to see that the Master will
preside," Master Aubert observed. "Next time, I expect that role
will fall to you as master of the Favonius initiates."

Until then I had not made the connection between my position
as master of the Favonius initiates and what I would be called
upon to do with Michel that night. The Master had allowed the
rules to be varied so that I might fulfill my destiny with
Michel.

"I suppose so," I answered vaguely.

My thoughts were elsewhere. Oh, how I loved that beautiful
honey-skinned boy who stood modestly before the Altar. I could
not take my eyes away even for a moment. Throughout the singing I
gazed at him longingly, consumed by love, a love that was
stronger than seemed humanly possible. His eyes flickered, not
nervously, but seeking me out from among the others. His eyes
locked on mine, sharing the knowledge that we would soon be
joined. There was a brief pause in the proceedings, and in that
fleeting silence, we shared our thoughts. There were other minds
sharing thoughts with Michel, but his thoughts alone filled my
head. He loved me. It was in his eyes, his shy smile. Our minds
were attuned, intermingling his thoughts with mine, his unspoken
words exchanged with mine. Never had I seen a more beautiful boy
stand before the assembly to offer his virginity. To offer it to
me! He would call upon me, 'Master Aidan', when he chose the man
would deflower him. I was proud, if apprehensive of my
responsibility.

He took his time to ascend the stairs, making each step
meaningful. His eyes were full of joy, darting here and there and
blazing with intensity as he committed every detail to memory. He
would never forget this time. Finally, he stood before the Altar,
resplendent in his simple robe. Pure white. Virginal white. His
hair shone like spun gold, glistening in the light of the ninety-
six candles that had been placed on the stairs. He stood still,
listening to the boys singing in his honor. No matter how many
times I heard the chants, the choruses of boys, their voices
raised in praise of the boy who was about to join their midst, I
still felt the same surge that I had experienced when I took my
turn upon the Altar.

Then, when the voices quieted, it was Michel's turn to sing.
Strangely, in all the days and nights that we had spent together,
I had never heard him sing although he had surely practiced at
great length so pure was his voice. Even at Evensong, when the
boys sang together, he sang quietly and hid his voice among many
others. While I could see his mouth moving, I could not hear the
tones he made. I could not have been more surprised, when in the
calm stillness of the Chapel, Michel lifted his head up and began
to sing. Only for an instant, his voice wavered, and then it
gathered strength and tone, and reached up to the heavens. He
seemed almost not to breath, as he endeavored to shatter every
window with his soprano sound. He was so concentrated on his song
that he was unaware of the awe of his audience.

Finally, he attained the refrain, and the other boys joined
him in the song. Soon, just a little longer and Michel would be
joined with those boys in another way. The excitement made the
air hum. With bated breath, I trembled with excitement as Tain
stepped forward. He led Michel closer to the Altar to present him
to the Master of the Sanctuary. The prayer was the same as I had
heard for Kadri, but unlike Master Aleyn whose voice was weak,
the Master offered his words in a fine loud voice. His embraced
Michel, holding him just a longer than was necessary. Then,
Michel was guided to ascend the stairs. The sash, so small, pure
white, was unfastened and laid upon the polished stone. Tain
lifted his hands to remove his woolen robe. Underneath, the boy's
honey-hued skin glowed with a luster that reminded me of
burnished gold. So different to Kadri's milk-toned body. I
sighed, consumed by the sight of his naked body from behind. No
matter how often I was rewarded with the sight of Michel in the
nude, each time I was overcome when he divulged his utter
perfection to my eyes. He was hard, of course.

His penis, even fully erect, was not large. Standing before
us, there was no doubt of his excitement. Unlike some boys who
have difficulty becoming hard, Michel's penis jutted out
perpendicularly to his body. It was so stiff that the skin was
stretched and pulled back far enough to reveal the crimson tiny
head beneath the crown. By comparison with the other boys on the
Mount, his penis was both short and thin, evidently lacking the
squatness that Etienne had. Certainly, there would be additional
growth when he started puberty, but even then Michel would be
small. Not that it mattered for he was well aware that for a
passive boy, true pleasure could be had in another way. Again, I
made a silent prayer for despite his visible arousal, Michel was
as nervous as Kadri had been. Around me, unbroken voices chanted
the words that admitted a new initiate to their midst.

"That Tain is a sexy lad," Master Aubert announced as if it
mattered to me.

"Pray tell," I said cynically. "You said the same of Carlin
when Kadri was mounted a month ago."

Master Aubert would have laughed but he cupped his hand over
his face. "He's not the filly that Carlin was, but he'll take it
throughout the night and wake up still wanting more."

"Has a mate been picked for Tain?" I asked, aware that
Michel's initiation had been brought forward.

"Yes. I believe a warrior from the distant south was awarded
the victory just an hour ago. It was an interesting competition.
It's not often that our boys leave the citadel with ebony
lovers."

"Oh?" I mused. "An African? They're usually bigger than the
norm."

"So true. What a delicious body on that boy." Master Aubert
smiled appreciatively as Michel's open robe was finally removed.
"This should be fun. I wish I was in your role, Aidan."



He called my name proudly, loudly, boldly, a loud voice that
announced to the gathered men and boys the man who he wanted to
take his virginity. If any of the other masters had harbored
dreams of being called upon to do it, Michel had dispelled them
in that name of Aidan of Aquarius, Master of Favonius. I smiled
back to acknowledge my desire was strong for him. There were
jealous men around me. Even Master Aubert would have been pleased
to stand before Michel. However, it was obvious to all that
Michel and I were predestined to join together. Indeed, I had a
pervading sense that Michel was at the Altar only because of me
and that no other man would ever partake of the pleasure his
body. I alone would cherish him. I alone would ravish him. I
alone would love him.

"Don't spare the lard, Tain," someone joked. "Master Aidan
will need a lot before he's done tonight."

I laughed and started forward from place among the masters.
I could feel my heart pounding with the thrill of what would
happen. Never had I had known such triumphant joy. I was going to
mount the boy I loved. I would pierce him for the first time. We
would join together and I would fill his bowels with my penis. I
approached Michel. His face was radiant, sublime, accepting,
ready to bestow his treasure on me. Our eyes met, locked
together. I did not need to say a word, but I whispered the words
I needed to say.

"I love you, Miel."

At that, Michel smiled in recognition of a love that was no
less strong. His lips barely moved as he returned the simple
phrase in a faint whisper. I heard his words inside my head,
sweet words, words that captured how he felt. Michel placed his
hands on the polished stone behind him even before Tain placed
his palm upon his breast. A boy behind me giggled at Michel's
enthusiasm. With a hop, he had lifted his body up and onto the
Altar. His slender legs dangled over the edge until he lay back
on the cold granite and drew his knees up to his chest. This was
the position that a virgin took. He breathed deeply. The tension
was palatable. The boys sang in unison, calling for Michel to
admit the lard into his rectum so that his rose would be ringed.

I ascended the steps and took my place. I felt Tain brush
against my side. He was a handsome boy, although he faded to
bland and uninspiring beside Michel. His hair was dark and
curling, reaching below his shoulders. He was Favonius like the
boy I was about to mount.Michel's eyes became brighter, wide with
love and burgeoning excitement. He did not need to be told what
happened next. He gazed up at the man who stood before him. Me! I
would be his first and only lover.

His thoughts filled my head. 'I will give myself to you,
Master Aidan, and never to another. I will love you until I die.'

Doubtless, I was a haunting figure, gaunt and attired in the
red robe of my station. The anointing was completed quickly and
Tain removed his greasy hand from Michel's cheeks. His buttocks
were the same golden hue as the rest of his body, just a little
paler. His virgin hole was clearly visible to me if not to all
the men and boys who had gathered in the Chapel. So tiny, like a
little ruddy dot between the small pinched globes. The song
continued, reaching a crescendo as the soprano voices called for
Michel's ring to be darkened.

I kneeled to honor him. A virgin about to be lose what he
had always had but never realized. Slowly, carefully, I
annunciated my hastily prepared prayer of tribute. I was not much
of a poet.

"Dearest Michel, I look and see thy eyes are afire,

Your heart beats in harmony with mine, to know why,

A man loves a boy and in that love, is loved in return,

This joins us, and shows the world what there is to learn,

Dearest Michel, I will teach you what there is to know,

Sometimes barely in or deep, gentle or hard, fast or slow,

I must fill your bowels, so take my manhood into you,

Michel's hand reached out, down, moving between us, lifting
my robe and repositioning it so that it was out of the way and my
maleness exposed for all to see. He ogled my penis with a
glutton's hunger. Even Michel, for whom the sight was common,
lifted his head from the stone and gazed upon me. I was as stiff
as I had ever been, harder than a blade forged in the foundries
of the Aquitane. Not even Etienne had been able to make my penis
so hard that it throbbed with every beat of my heart, that the
veins became prominent and dark, distended to the point of
painfulness. From behind me, those boys who were standing to the
sides, came the silence that signaled respect and awe. I was
majestic, proud, and ready to do the task I had been called upon
to do.

Michel's response was to grasp his legs behind his knees and
lift his buttocks higher. Thus presented, his exposed bottom was
revealed to me, his firm small cheeks split apart just far enough
to reveal the precious center hidden within. His virginal anus,
still intact if not as puckered as it once was, winked at me as
he tightened the muscles that closed his portal. And then he
relaxed, exerting the wonderful control and zeal that the Master
had been gratified to see. His smile was captivating, expressing
true happiness as he awaited my next move. This was the moment of
revelation, the end result of a month of rigorous training. What
followed would determine the rest of his life.

For a moment, standing there, tumescent and dominant as only
a Vulturnus man can be, I was disconcerted by the vulnerable boy
who reclined upon the Altar. I was overwhelmed by the feeling on
invincibility that comes to any man when he mounts a boy, but
which is redoubled when the boy is submissive. And Michel was as
passive as any boy could be. He wanted my penis deep within him.
He waited while Tain continued through the liturgy, repeating the
phrases that were so familiar to me, yet took on special meaning
as I exchanged a knowing look with Michel. Because of me, his
rose would bloom. This was the act of love that bound a man to a
boy. For those boys who live upon the Mount, for who those boys
who had preceded them, and for those boys who would surely follow
in their footsteps, this single act ensured the continuation of
the Rose. Certainly, the intricate tattoo that would be engraved
upon his bottom would signify his initiation to anyone who cared
to look, but for Michel, the moment of initiation occurred when
the broad rim of my penis penetrated his opening.

And so we looked at each other, reflecting in silent
concentration the intimacy we were about to share. Having
prepared my penis with a copious amount of lard, Tain rubbed his
thumb across the head of my penis, smearing the slime around to
increase the slipperiness where it would be most needed. Then,
his fingers closed around my shaft, drawing me forward as he
guided the rigid member between Michel's cheeks. I quivered as
the first hot touch, melting into him where our flesh joined.
Michel relaxed even further, his eyes brave, excited, sincere,
sensuous. This was more than initiation. This was what happened
when a man and boy were in love.

Having positioned my penis where in needed to be, Tain gave
a parting squeeze. That sudden increase in stiffness was all it
took. I pressed forward gently, so hard it hurt, parting his
cheeks with my thumbs, penetrating just far enough to elicit a
shallow gasp. He could feel it, the blunt head now lodged just
inside him. He trembled, understanding what had happened. His
eyes widened in sudden disbelief. Like every boy, he had expected
the first entry to hurt. Yet there was no feeling except
fullness, and a gratifying sense of having achieved something
very special.

"It's in," I whispered. "Can you feel me in you, Miel? I
love you."

He nodded slightly, just enough to show me that he
understood, but to anyone else it would look as if he was shaking
the hair from his forehead. With my back to the gathered men and
boys, they could not see or hear anything I said if I kept my
voice very low.

"Does it hurt?"

It was, of course, a dim-witted question to ask of any boy
who lived on the Mount. However, I loved Michel so much that the
very thought of inflicting any pain distressed me. There would be
discomfort afterwards. That soreness that came from being
stretched and then abraded from within, was only to be expected.
A month of sleepless long nights and frequent practice with my
fingers had prepared him for this.

His meek head shook slightly, barely moving. "It's nice,
Master," he murmured under his breath. "Go further."

"Just relax, Miel. There's no rush. Savor every moment. It
takes a while to get used to having it inside you."

Despite my caring admonishment for patience, I could not
hold back. The heart inside Michel seemed to burn along the
length of my shaft, pulling me into him. Instinctively, my
buttocks clenched as my muscles tensed. A little more slid
inside. Not much, but enough for a boy on his first time. Michel
breathed deeply, closing his eyes to focus his mind on the
sensations that were occurring. Further, fuller, starting to get
tighter. By then, my penis was beyond the point of no return, the
rim of my glans having progressed to that place within Michel
that enabled his sphincter to close behind. With a shy smile, he
tightened his anus, pulling playfully against the head that was
captive inside him. Already the feelings had begun to change,
from the strange pressure of being expanded to anticipation of
something infinitely better.

"It's big," he muttered. "I want it deeper," he instructed
with a gasp.

"There's a lot more to come," I answered softly.

I had expected a prolonged entry for Michel was very
slender. He had such narrow hips that the possibility of him
accommodating the thickness of my penis seemed unlikely. However,
as I rested against him, I could feel his opening becoming
looser. Indeed, my penis inched deeper without any force beyond a
loving push. He sighed as the bloated glans sunk deeper. He could
feel his organs being displaced, a weight against his bladder,
and something else. This was what the other boys talked about.
The place where life began and ended for a Sanctuary boy. Every
little bit of my penis that entered his rectum increased the
pressure that was growing inside him. And every second that
passed increased his stress. He trembled uncontrollably.

He whimpered and look up at me with adoring eyes. His eyes
beseeched me, begging me to go on to finish what had been
started. Within the last few moments, his body had become very
hot, searing my throbbing flesh. He quaked, grasping his legs so
tightly that his finger joints were white. His mouth opened as he
tried to say words that would not come. Beads of sweat appeared
upon his forehead. His nostrils flared. He could feel it inside
him. It was not like it was before. It hurt now. It didn't hurt
badly. It felt so good it hurt. Yes, that was it. But the
pressure was getting painful. It felt like he was going to burst
any moment. It was different to being brought to orgasm by my
fingers, or even with the boar's tusk. He was used to those
feelings. This was more intense. This was like he was going to
explode, or worse. In confusion, he shook his head wildly,
prompting some risqu comments from the audience.

"Hey, Michel, don't come yet. He's only got it nearly
halfway in you."

"There's nothing quite like seeing a big man enter a small
boy for the first time."

I smiled, recognizing Sandor's voice, followed by Master
Tomias, the master of defence. He was clearly impressed by the
ease of my entry into Michel's rectum. Among his peers, Michel
was both desirable and popular, so it was not unexpected for the
other boys to tease him and derive some amusement from his
initiation. He was also well liked by all the other masters with
a single exception. Little wonder that more than one of them were
offering muted but still audible words of encouragement. Their
delight was magnified by virtue of Michel's obvious
gratification. Not only had he not cried or even uttered a single
complaint as I pressed inward, but unlike Kadri, Michel had no
problem achieving an undeniable apogee of hardness to show his
excitement. His penis, while inconsequential both in size and its
role in his initiation, jutted up between his legs for all to
see. With a quick glance over my shoulder to ascertain the
Master's appreciation, I decided to complete the act rather than
delay the inevitable deep breach that would leave no question of
his virginity.

"Take a deep breath. Relax your muscle and count to ten,
Michel," I counseled under my breath, "and then push out the way
you've practiced," I added as I drew back until just the glans
was lodged within him.

I did not give him a chance to think. I heard his serene
voice, counting slowly as he endeavored to loosen up his inner
canal. We had practiced this often enough, but the thickness of
my finger was a lot less than what was now ensconced within him.
He tried to calm his involuntary spasms, instinctively using his
outward breath to slacken himself.

"Eight,... Nine,..."

Another breath. A long pause. I tightened my grasp of his
narrow hips, using my fingers to hook over his pelvis, and my
thumbs to brace the grip from behind and underneath him.

"Ten."

I heard the eagerness in his voice. He gasped, wriggling
urgently as my penis pushed back to where it had been earlier. I
did not stop there, but kept on the pressure, sinking deeper into
him. I pulled him towards me, lifting his buttocks higher as my
penis speared through his partially dilated hole. Much further
than before, further than my fingers had ever reached, further
than he had managed on his own with the boar's tusk. I was still
a distance from achieving the man's goal being completely within,
but from his sudden shudder I realized that I was in the vicinity
of his special gland. I stopped and he struggled to accept the
added mass inside him.

"Oh," he murmured. "Oh, Master Aidan, it feels,...
so,...so,.... Wonderful,... I can't stop trembling,... It's
strange," he pondered.

"Why?"

"I feel so happy," he answered. "I love you."

"I know, my honey-boy," I replied. "Are you ready for more?"

He nodded uncertainly. He still clasped his buttocks from
underneath and parted them to expose his crack, but now his
fingers had moved closer, until they brushed my shaft where it
exited from his anus.

"So big," he whispered. "I want you in me,... further."

This time I barely eased away before I returned with added
vigor. My penis must have felt like a fist punching into his
bowels for he grunted as he exhaled, his mouth opening in
surprise. My penis was beyond the halfway point, yet I could not
be satisfied with just that. Every moment inside Michel's hot
tight canal increased my lust to a degree I had not imagined
possible. That was the effect that young boys have on men. Once
that pleasure was experienced, there is no going back to lesser
joys.

As I paused, poised to penetrate all the way, I reflected on
another boy. Not Kadri, or Sandor, or any of the other boys I had
entered during the last few weeks. Instead, I remembered another
boy who now I thought of only as Michel's brother. Etienne as a
sexually mature boy, was not only stronger and more aggressive,
but he was accustomed to being loved. It was easy to slide my
penis into his hole, to go full depth without resting, and thrust
vigorously with force and speed until we reached into that
fathomless oblivion together and shook with the spasms of orgasm.
>From the first time we mated until the last, we ejaculated in
harmony.

Until then I had taken my time to go inside Michel, allowing
his body to adjust and become comfortable with what I was doing.
However, lust knows no restraint. A man's power cannot be denied
when it is confronted by a hairless boy. One thrust!

He squealed loudly, as I expected he would, although it was
probably more for effect than anything else. That brought a cheer
from the audience, for it was obvious to all from the closeness
of my groin and Michel's cry that his virginity was no more.

"Now give him a rose to be proud of, Master Aidan," Kadri
giggled.

Michel's face had contorted in a sharp, but quickly passing
pain. His eyes opened wide in disbelief. His fingers felt the
smoothness of my groin, telling him what he already knew. My
penis had penetrated all the way. For a boy, there is no feeling
that even begins to compare to what Michel felt as he lay upon
that cold stone altar. Stretched, stretched so tightly that he
could not breath. Full, so full that even the slightest movement
disturbed his momentary calm. He could not move or breath without
a surging sensation that made him groan.

And for me, impaled with a human scabbard, I had achieved
Nirvana. His flesh, hot pulsing alive flesh, enclosed me,
embraced me, joined me to him. So wonderful that I could not
acknowledge it beyond a sigh of intense pleasure. 'I'm in you,
Michel,' I wanted to say. 'You're mine now.' Instead, I flexed my
penis and he shuddered as it jerked against his special place.

"Ohhhhhh," he groaned,

"Now you know what it's like, Miel," someone laughed.

"Come to my chamber after this, and I'll give you the same,"
a master chided from behind me. "Is he in ball's deep yet, Tain?"
he added sarcastically.

Until then I had been so consumed by Michel that I had all
but forgotten the older boy who was appointed to the role of
arbitrator. Poor Tain had been equally diverted by what he saw
that he had neglected his official duties. He bent down and
inspected Michel's uplifted rump as best he could for there was
very little opportunity to see between us. I eased back slightly,
just enough to separate my groin from being pressed hard against
Michel's buttocks. What Tain observed left no doubt that Michel's
virginity was gone. He straightened up and uttered the words in a
clear loud voice, so different to the announcement of Kadri's
initiation.

"The rose has bloomed again. Another boy has joined the
ranks of Favonius. Welcome Michel, of the Order of Scorpio."

"Welcome Michel, of Scorpio, now initiated to Favonius," all
of the boys chanted.

A few boys smirked knowingly, implying they associated
Michel with the characteristics of that Order. I had also
witnessed Michel's magnetic personality. At times he could be
insistent, even demanding, for he was a determined lad like all
Scorpios tend to be. He was at times emotional, and possessive if
he was judged by his relationship with me. Above all, my Michel
possessed an aura of mystery that excited me.

"Now fuck him hard, Master Aidan," Sandor laughed. "Churn
the lard. Can't you see that's what he wants."

"That's quite enough, Sandor. Show respect," the Master
promptly rebuked him with a stern call. However, a smile of
amusement was apparent to anyone who cared to look.

"Are you ready, Honey?" I asked teasingly as I tested
Michel's anus with a gentle thrust.

It was the first time that I had resorted to a nickname
other than 'Miel'. I wanted to convey my deep affection, to let
him know the magnitude of my love, to inform of that what ahead
was very special. He regarded me with a quizzical if euphoric
smile. Already he had discovered such happiness that it did not
seem possible. Yet, he had often watched me with his peers,
pounding hard and fast into their little bottoms. He had heard
them shriek, and watched them, contorted as they writhed in
ecstasy, and then still shuddering, slump back, abandoned to some
rapture that had been denied to him. He nodded slightly.

For a man to love a boy, both must do so at free will. Love
is about giving, not taking, even though a man's lust can be
nearly impossible to control. At first, I gave Michel my penis
cautiously. I would have been a fool to do otherwise. It is not a
sign of expertise if a boy bleeds. Instead, far greater skill is
revealed if he pleads for more, begs his lover to take him
harder, faster, deeper, making a ring around his rose that is a
sign of love.

Despite the occasional jeers from behind to urge me on, I
was patient. Patience is a virtue, even when virginity has been
taken. I timed myself to a slow but rhythmic motion, rocking my
pelvis back and forth so that my penis glided smoothly rather
than thrusting in and out. Unless they were trained as boys upon
the Mount, most men are not patient enough to love a boy. Back
and forth, loosening instead of pushing against his inner gland,
my fingers caressing his sides, my thighs rubbing along the cold
stone altar.

Poor Michel! Like any boy on his first time, he did not know
what to make of it all. Increasingly, it was hard for him to
control his body, and that despite the days and nights of
training he had already received. His anus quivered, pulsed,
clasped my penis in a frantic effort to hold it still, to pull it
even further into him. And always, there were strange sensations.
Now, he knew what it was like to have a man's penis impaled
within him. He labored to breath. It was as good pushing in as it
was withdrawing, or even in between. So good! He gasped and
groaned noisily, and recognized a shameless desire that he dared
not voice aloud.

So he kept silent for much longer than I expected. Finally,
he could no longer control himself.

"Faster," he urged breathlessly. "Faster,... please."

"Beg for it, Miel," someone taunted from the crowd. "We all
do, sooner or later."

"Go on! Beg!" another boy spurred. "Before he fills your
void with cream."

"Please,... faster,... I want it faster," Michel implored
desperately.

His face contorted. His body trembled. His toes curled in.
His muscles strained as he pushed himself against me. Only a few
times had I seen a boy so carried away by the act of making love.
Most of them humped back when they were ecstatic. Not Michel. For
him, it was a matter of exerting a continuous inexorable pressure
as he tried to force his body down my slowly thrusting penis. He
hungered for it, demanding more with every breath, gasping as the
excitement surged throughout his slender body, building to the
inevitable pinnacle.

Finally, knowing that proceeding at a faster pace might
precipitate my own orgasm, I began to increase the speed. I used
short hard strokes that were calculated to take him to the peak
for I concentrated my attack in the region of his gland. That my
thrusts were directed against that tender place was evident from
Michel's frantic writhing. His face contorted, teeth clenching,
eyes closed tightly shut. And still I thrusted, those pulverizing
powerful thrusts that only a man can give a boy. Deeper and
deeper until it seemed inhumanly possible that so much of my
shaft could been inside a boy whose loss of virginity was still a
vivid memory. Yet, he adjusted, and call upon a reserve of
strength to demand even more of me.

"So good," he managed to get out before he groaned.

I paused then, pushing into him and keeping my place so that
he could feel the hard fullness of it deep inside him. He
squirmed, swallowing, his stretched orifice fluttering around my
penis like a frightened bird. That part of him had weakened and
lost its fight.

"I love you," I said very softly as I leaned over him.

My lips were but a finger length away from his lips, yet I
could not kiss him, not in front of all these people. Certainly,
masters kissed their young students in public as often in
private, but I feared that the slightest additional stimulation
would send me over the edge. I concentrated as hard I could,
repeating in my mind the mantra of 'mind over body'. My
demonstration of affection was reduced to caressing his slim
thighs as he gradually receded from the edge of orgasm. He looked
up at me, impaled but as happy as any boy could be. His eyes
asked why. Why had I prevented him from fulfilling nature's
destiny? He was about to discover why men and boys were lovers.

"So my beautiful prince, is this what you want?" I asked as
I gently eased away so that the head of my penis was barely
inside his tight canal.

His head shook in instant denial as he felt the void
suddenly open inside his bowels. He could not hide his regret.
For the moment the pressure inside him had diminished. He
grimaced and shook his head with frustration. With a smile I took
hold of his thighs and slowly, forcefully, pressed back to fill
the void. My penis slid easily, gliding on the oily lard. Michel
groaned loudly. Instantly, the awful pressure had returned. He
breathed with difficulty, accepting the need that compelled him
to continue. Again and again I used that slow pumping action,
testing his opening as I withdrew, sinking back in one swift
motion, and creating a sucking sound from the foam that gathered
at the entrance to his body.

In time, Michel would learn that a man used that technique
to loosen a young boy. Indeed, as I felt his muscle relax, I
began to withdraw completely so that helmeted head of my engorged
penis teased his delicate anus before it punched back through
quivering flesh. After a dozen thrusts, Michel was fully dilated
or as close to that condition as could be expected given his lack
of experience. His mouth was continually open, his eyes in that
glazed-over state that is associated with mind-numbing
sensations. He had attained the rapture that I remembered from my
own days as a boy upon the Mount.

I watched his face as I began to increase the pace. Faster
and faster until his eyes closed to mere slits, pounding my
pelvis against Michel's small buttocks, his teeth gritted, his
body shuddering frenetically, his urgent words incoherent yet
communicating his extreme joy. He climaxed without warning and it
was over very quickly, as all boys do before puberty causes them
to ejaculate. A few heartbeats at best before the spasms had
passed and his pulsing anus no longer clamped around my penis. I
stopped, giving his a brief relief. He rested, trying his best to
resume more normal breathing. The last few minutes had been
blurred for both of us. Now, I heard the voices of our audience
as I withdrew the full length of my penis. Had it ever been so
hard that it throbbed with every beat of my heart? My greasy
shiny penis slapped against my lower belly.

"He came!"

"Of course he came. You would too with a cock like that
inside you. It's as big as any that I've seen. And what's more,
it's not thin like some I've had."

"Look! Michel's dick is still hard. I lost mine as soon as
it started up me."

"Another virgin has gone to the Seventh Heaven," Master
Aubert remarked. "And with quite a show at that. Surely this was
among the best deflowerings that I have seen."

I smiled down at Michel and cautiously tested his reaction
by gently stroking his bowels. He sighed contentedly, clearly
willing to continue. I could feel his anus around my penis, its
earlier tension replaced by a slippery oozing presence.

"True enough, Aubert. It'll be quite a rose I'll make in the
morning. Surely it will be as large as any that I've done. Just
thank the lard there's no blood," the Master observed.

"That's the truth," Tain laughed as he bent down to peer
between us. "Not a streak and Michel's as loose as a boy can be."

"Are you ready for more, Honey?" I whispered to Michel.

Michel nodded slightly, his eyes flickering with returning
lust. I squeezed against him, driving my penis into him
relentlessly. His eyes opened wide, expecting to feel it breech
him to the hilt. For the time being, that was not to be for I
could still cause him injury. When my penis was deep enough that
it would not slip out, I placed my hands behind his back and
lifted him up from the Altar. Master Kieran had done the same
thing to Kadri once his virginity was gone, but I planned more
than a simple trick to force a little more of my penis inside
Michel.

Michel's legs lifted up and locked behind my back. At the
same time, his slender arms wrapped around my neck so that he
hung suspended, momentarily poised above my swollen organ. He
needed only to relax his grip and he would slide down. My hands
supported his buttocks, keeping them split wide apart so that all
could see. Michel took a deep breath and began to ease his body
down. He did not stop until my penis had penetrated deeper, much
deeper than before. Surely it caused him pain for his head tilted
back and he whimpered as he felt the fullness expanding there. He
nodded fervently, showing more enthusiasm than seemed warranted
until I realized what he wanted. Michel was game for more and in
the position in which I had placed him, he had reached the limit.

So, holding Michel tightly so that he could not fall, I
turned him, lifted him, rearranged him. His legs were no longer
around my back, but forced against his front. His supported his
weight entirely by his arms, gripping my shoulders with his
hands. My hands still clasped his buttocks. Now angled against
me, exposed and unprotected he dropped. Was it possible? I gazed
at him in amazement, recognizing but not believing the feeling
that enclosed my penis. Not all of it, but most of it was grasped
and heated by his inner sanctum. I bounced him up and down and he
gasped in shock as even more of my penis was forced inside. Poor
Michel! No matter how much time is spent in preparation, no boy
can ever be ready to experience such ecstasy. The sensations of
untrammeled pleasure had barely departed his mind than they
returned with a vengeance.



"He'll be sore in the morning," one of the boys laughed.
"It'll serve him right, the little faggot."

"No so sore he won't want to do it again," Kadri giggled.

"That's one Favonius who should have been a girl," commented
an older boy with a deprecating air. "Look at the size of his
hole. He going to have a rose you can see from behind."

"His hole might be the size of your mouth," Sandor snorted,
"but it smells a whole lot better."

Sandor's crude reply on Michel's behalf prompted a ripple of
mirth among those boys who had heard what he said. Few men
laughed, but none reprimanded him for it was not unusual for the
boys to engage in ribald comment and vulgar jokes once the
initiation had been completed. The mounting of a junior boy was,
after all a form of entertainment for them, and a way of bonding
closer together. Laughter also made the situation less stressful
for the boy concerned. Michel giggled and twitched his bottom to
encourage me to enter further.

I responded by plunging him up until my swollen glans was
nearly jerked from his mushy heat. Then, as soon as he realized
his predicament, I shoved him down while I braced my legs to take
his weight without moving. The consequence of doing so was
immediately visible to all who watched. My penis jabbed into
Michel's exposed rump with incredible force. It was enough to
skewer him another finger width. So tight! His fabulous heated
body fitted like a glove, a very tight glove that was always
squeezing glove and made me think that a powerful fist was
grasping my penis. Whatever was within him was more than enough
to make me groan in ecstasy.

Each time I pulled back it seemed as if Michel's rectum
clamped to stop me, then relaxing when my penis was reinserted so
that I gained ground with every thrust. The garbled sounds of
gasps and whimpers began to grow louder and more frequent. As I
pounded against Michel's exposed buttocks I had the distinct
feeling that he would not last another minute. Well before then,
his movement became erratic, his hands and feet clutching,
twitching, shaking, as nerves beyond his ability to control. I
obeyed the primal call, the instinctive urge to plunge ever
deeper, harder, faster into his receptive anus. My urgency grew.
No boy had ever created such a hunger within me. Not Sandor, not
Kadri, not Etienne, not any of the hundreds of boys I'd mounted
over the years.

Perhaps I should have exerted more discipline, but restraint
at the point of ejaculation was never my forte. It was impossible
to hold back that overpowering surge within my loins. My entire
body, until that point had been dedicated to Michel's pleasure,
but now lust took over. From behind me I heard Master Aubert
counsel me to take my time.

"Mind over body", he communicated into my whirling head.
"Mind over body, Aidan. He's not quite ready to end the rose."

And so I exerted that last degree of autonomous control,
allowing my jerking, thrusting member to back away from the
precipitous climax that was just ahead. Simply by counting
Michel's heartbeats! His heart fluttered like a frantic animal. A
hummingbird's wings could not have beat so fast as Michel's
excited heart. As my pace slowed, I started to make longer
strokes instead of quick sharp stabs. The effect upon Michel was
nothing short of miraculous. He turned his head to gaze at me
with wide-open sensuous eyes.

"Master Aidan," he sighed. "I'm so happy."



"Hush, boy," I intoned against his ear. "Feel my cock? It's
all the way inside your bowels," Michel nodded slowly. "This
night you become a true Favonius boy. You have entered the
heavenly kingdom like everyone of us," I added softly.

"Master,... Aidan,... I,... Oh! OH! Oh, so good." Michel
murmured. "I like it there, like that,..."

I smiled at him and levered my blunted penis hard against
his gland. He tensed, gripping my shoulders as if in pain. In
reality, the sudden thrill had charged him with fearful desire.
Then out, withdrawing until my glans came free and bounced, with
wet sloppy ooze against his distended hole. Michel was not one to
be denied his pleasure. He pushed down, his anus opening like a
hungry mouth to take my penis back inside.

"Now, my beautiful honeyed boy, let's show them what you can
do," I chided teasingly.

With great care, I proceeded down the stairs to join the
other men and boys. They parted Favonius and Vulturnus on either
side, allowing me the space to walk among them. Realizing how
close they were, Michel shyly burrowed his head against my chest
and closed his eyes as if oblivious to their interested eyes.
Certainly, he had nothing to be ashamed of for by that time
almost all of my penis was rhythmically hidden from view.

"Show them what it's like to love."

No matter that it was quietly said, I heard the words and
pivoted to find the Master close by my side. He smiled knowingly.
His emphasis on the final word had not gone unnoticed by Master
Aubert. He raised his eyebrows, simulating surprise as I slowly
walked by. I raised Michel's bottom with a fluid motion, creating
a rhythmic up and down, that always ended with a muted sigh.
Between Michel's sighs of passion there was another sound, the
sound of suction. Oh how I loved that sound, that slippery juicy,
sucking sound. It was both reassuring and arousing.

We paraded around the Chapel, Michel and I, as we made love.
We showed them with unchallenged if foolhardy pride. If the
closeness between Michel and me was overlooked, it was not
because it had been concealed by us. Any man or boy needed only
to see the mutual look of rapture, sheer joy on either face, to
know that we shared more than a man and boy were intended to have
upon the Mount. Even Kadri and Sandor were envious. They stood
all but side by side, separated by the center aisle, both boys of
the sign of Libra. By contrast, Michel and I were separated, for
Scorpio and Aquarius are distant in that sense, but our love
spanned much further than an astrological concordance allowed.

Our minds had united as our bodies had joined. That
wonderful harmony, not transient like the act of love, had forged
a bond that could never be put asunder. We were lovers and all
could see it for themselves. That awareness help us to achieve
what should have been impossible for Michel. He teetered at the
peak, constantly writhing with the mind-numbing spasms of coital
bliss.

We passed Master Kieran. Although he had been forewarned by
rumor, he still glanced down enviously to ascertain the dimension
of my organ for himself. Without losing my rhythm, I elevated
Michel's bottom until his could see between us. My penis was
fully engorged, complete with distended veins and swollen,
darkened head. Against Michel's small, reddened orifice it
appeared a formidable sight. Then in, in with a single powerful
thrust that lifted Michel high into the air and make his mouth
open in a frantic cry. Master Kieran was visibly impressed for my
penis instantly disappeared from sight. If the boys called him
'Asparagus Dick' behind his back, I wondered what my nick name
would be after this night.

The boys who were close enough to see, exclaimed among
themselves.

"He's thicker than anything I've had."

"Can you imagine how it feels to have that monster in your
bowels?"

"Michel will never want anything else again."

We left them muttering and making comparisons between my
organ and those of the other masters and continued on our way
around the Chapel. Several of the masters requested that I paused
beside them to demonstrate Michel's ability. Indeed, it was
almost impossible to believe that a boy who had been a virgin
only a short time before, could maintain an orgasmic state for so
long. Few boys possessed the ability to fully control their
bodies before they were mounted by an accomplished lover. Keeping
an erection and postponing ejaculation developed the ability of
mind over body, but true mastery came only with the ability to
keep one's body at the very pinnacle of pleasure.

Then, standing in the shadows of the columns I saw Master
Devon. He glowered at me, yet did not ignore the sight before
him. Indeed, I think he licked his lips like a hungry person does
before he feasts upon a cornucopia. I remembered his evil claim,
that he would have Michel one day. Not while I lived! Michel was
mine. I would fight any man to the death to keep him by my side.
I nearly turned away, but Michel urged my forward movement by
pressing his heels into my flanks. Perhaps he did not see his
tormenter concealed in the darkness.

Nonetheless, I was so full of fearless arrogance that I
disregarded my first impulse to turn away. If Master Devon had
come to watch Michel's deflowering, then I would show him what he
lusted after. No other boy upon the Mount could compare to my
Michel. So I continued forward, until I passed the column where
he stood. I felt his eyes upon my back as I lifted Michel up and
off. My engorged penis slapped wetly against Michel's small
cheeks, then as he slid down, pierced his weakened orifice in a
swift unbroken plunge. There was a squelching noise when it
bottomed out. I had churned the lard to slime. Some splattered
out when it was displaced by my shaft. Dribbles of it, that
slippery oleaginous juice, ran down my legs.

I did it again, lifting Michel up and down, producing a
shuddering spasm. He made a strange gagging sound when I jerked
him free, instantly struggling to slide back down again. Master
Devon's eyes met mine. Threatening, hateful eyes. I saw dark eyes
that revealed a mind that had never known right from wrong, but
which persisted in teaching the myths of the Mount. And more,
before I turned away to carry Michel back to the Altar.

He started to orgasm as I climbed the stairs. He had delayed
the inevitable orgasm longer than seemed humanly possible,
especially for a boy so young. His slender body have a sudden
heave, then came a momentary hiatus that suggested he had control
again. He groaned from deep inside his chest. His hands clutched
me. His eyes closed tight. The first spasm startled both of us.
His anus tightened, grabbed my shaft, threatened to tear it off.
Then the pulses came, the throbbing of his heart, the clutching
of his sphincter muscle, the bursting jerks from deep inside him.
Michel had climaxed before, but not like this. He knew what
happened, he had often experienced the sensations of the 'little
death' as they exploded through his fragile frame, never like
this. This was different. His senses, already heightened to a
level that few boys can attain, achieved that sublime condition
that transcended sanity. His eyes gazed up at me in
discombobulated bliss. A moment later his body heaved and gave a
final shudder. He lost consciousness even as the rippling pulses
continued to surge throughout his exhausted body.

The heat, the pressure, the intensity of emotion for the boy
I loved, all of it combined to make me ejaculate. So soon. Too
soon, but oh what a release I spurted forth into Michel. I
groaned, following instinct by thrusting deeply. My penis was
well beyond his tender gland when it began. With that final
urgent thrust, I penetrated his bowels until I could go no
further. Michel was impaled upon my shaft when I delivered my
seed into his clutching succoring canal, a veritable flood
disgorged in no less than a dozen squirts, deep into his slender
abdomen. Some of it spewed back, escaping along my throbbing
penis to thickly coat my scrotum. I ceased my movement and basked
in the joy that came from knowing that I had filled his body with
my love.

As the spasms faded I gently laid Michel back down upon the
Altar of Initiation. Never was a name more deserved than that. I
smiled as Michel's eyes flickered open again. He blinked
uncertainly, his expression blank, then suddenly he became aware
of where he was and what had been done to him. His smile was
faint, but it was enough to convey his happiness. Surely he could
feel my penis deep inside him, still hard, and thick but now it
was surrounded by Michel's weakened flesh. It would feel strange
for him, that loose slipperiness, the lingering pressure against
his tiny prostate gland.

Most boys claim that they can feel a man's ejaculation when
it occurs inside them, and a lucky few say that they can even
feel the fluid in them afterwards, particularly if there is a lot
of it. Perhaps it was true for Michel for the look on his face
was nothing less than euphoric.

"I feel you," he murmured softly. "So hot,..."

I eased back slightly. Not far, just far enough for Tain to
see between us, to examine the place out bodies joined, the
oozing wetness that we shared. I dared not look, expecting the
worst, that Michel had bled. It did not seem possible that he
could not be ruptured. I did not expect to see Tain nod, but he
did. Such relief. I pulled back further, feeling my penis being
stretched by the force of suction alone before it began to slide
through the slick small rectum. Michel's face showed
disappointment when he realized my penis was withdrawing. The
void inside him became larger and more demanding. His first time
had ended and now, amid the discovering of untrammeled pleasure
he was to realize another feeling, that of being empty.

A little further and the rim of my glans pulled against his
sphincter from the inside. He made a feeble effort to retain my
manhood within him, but despite his effort, he could not hold it
back. It came out not with a 'pop', but a wet and sloppy slurp. I
stepped to Michel's right side, keeping my hand upon his nearest
buttock to spread his cheeks apart. Both men and boys looked and
saw the evidence of a virgin deflowered, a red-raw ring centered
around Michel's tiny gaping rose.

I looked too and felt proud. I had done my task to great
effect. Michel would bear a rose of substantial size, a sign of
his triumph as much as my success.

"Thank the lard. There's nothing like excess," Master Aubert
sighed.

"Hey Miel, you ought to see your arse," Sandor quipped.

Michel was startled and immediately his small hand sought to
reaffirm what he felt. Even before he touched his anal breech,
his fingers encountered the ooze between his buttocks and he
appeared surprised. Although he had seen and even tasted the
excretion that appeared on other boys, for himself he was used to
the slipperiness of grease. His fingers puddled in the slime. It
made him smile, before he cautiously probed his loosened hole.
There was nothing that I could have done to prepare him for that
event. First shock swiftly stunned his beautiful face, then came
understanding of why it was so very large.

"It's big," he whispered to me alone.

"Yes it is. Does it hurt?" I asked with concern.

"No, not really. It just feel strange." Michel thought for a
moment. "I didn't realize it would be like this."

"Like how?" I asked.

"So,... so empty. It feels so huge inside me now. And empty.
I want you back."

"And so you will, Michel."

I stroked the strands of hair back from his face and noticed
for the first time that his wreath had vanished. Perhaps it had
fallen off when we paraded around the Chapel. Beside us, Tain
backed away. He had said his words and fulfilled his role. Only
Michel and I were left to consummate our union as man and boy.
When Kadri had been mounted a month earlier he had been so
drained that he could barely nod his answer to the Master's
unspoken question. Michel left no doubt about his need to
continue.

"Well, my little honey-lover?" I asked gently. "Are you done
or ready for some more?"

"I want you to fuck me again, Master Aidan. And this time, I
want to feel it!"

Everybody laughed as much at Michel's brash response as at
the preposterousness of what he said given what had preceded. I
laughed too. The little wretch had prepared his answer in
advance. His eyes danced with merriment. This was a side of
Michel that I was unfamiliar with, although his brother had
employed his wit to my great delight.

"You'll not walk tomorrow, if he does," someone chided.

"Hey Miel, you'd better hope he doesn't drown you from the
inside out," Sandor scolded playfully.

I glanced over my shoulder and observed the Master's
encouraging nod while his inspiring thoughts filled my mind. My
organ was more than hard enough to undertake another round or
two. I hoped he would be able to find us horses when we departed
in the morning.

"Are you sure, Michel?" I asked.

Michel smiled and his hand wrapped around my penis. He
squeezed it, stroked his fist along the shaft, then pulled it
towards his exposed opening. I felt his heat, the embracing
sponginess, the slippery flesh so slick against the head. I
pushed, using more force than I needed to get back into him. The
bulbous tip pierced him on that initial thrust and sank in far
enough that it made him gasp.

"That's better," he sighed aloud. "Now deeper!"

"Spoken like a true Favonius, but without a 'please'," the
Master announced with a grin. "You'd best teach him some manners
I think, Master Aidan."

Michel's eyes opened wide as I rammed against him. I pushed
until my thighs pressed into his buttocks, until my penis was
ensconced within his rectum. The poor boy had uttered one long
groan, unable to stop my ingress. Yet, his lusty desire was
evident for his hands grasped at my sides and tried to bring us
even closer together.

Ti describe what followed some men would use the words of
battle, making an analogy between love and war. Boys are pierced
and impaled on penis-swords. Their bottoms are plundered, their
bowels are fleshy scabbards to hold a man's steely blade. I made
war on Michel's body. But such a war had only victors. I did not
defeat Michel although I attacked him brutally. He did not fight
me. Indeed he used his rectum to embrace me, to pull me further
into him, to satisfy our mutual need. Only a Favonius boy does
that with the eagerness that Michel demonstrated that night. His
face glowed with happiness as we rutted.

Michel came again, with the dry heaving jerks that pre-
pubertal boys are blessed with. Without emission, his lust could
not be sated. Not by me, not by another, or even three or four
men. Not by all the men and boys upon the Mount. His breathing
became urgent, wheezing as he gasped for air. Even as the
heightened pleasure began to dim, he was racked by the throes of
orgasm again. I counted three distinct pulses as he writhed. He
locked his legs around me, with his knees pressed against my
hips. Surprisingly, he could do so with enough strength to lift
his back completely off the stone. There he strained, using what
energy remained to him to grip my penis deep within his bowels.
Still, I plowed on despite his frenzied efforts, sliding my
engorged penis into the distended hole between his shaking legs.
I would not have dared done that to Michel but for the
overwhelming sense that his body had slackened sufficiently to
bear the brunt of my attack. He closed his eyes, abandoned to it,
carried on jubilant waves that thundered through his slender
frame. I heard my fluids squelching somewhere inside him, sucking
loudly on each withdrawal, then Michel's panicked groan as I sank
back in. Again and again, I punched against him, each inward
thrust driving his body along the stone only to yank him back
when I withdrew. It seemed impossible that he could take much
more.

Yet, amid the groans his frenzied voice was unforgettable.

"More."

Just 'more'. More meant harder, faster, deeper. He begged
for more, pleaded for more, demanded more. And more I gave him,
until I was breathless and each shove propelled my penis from tip
to base and his ecstasy verged on agony. His anus had reached the
point of complete dilation, stretched beyond all semblance of its
normal function. I felt his anus as a loosened band that
constrained the movement of my penis. Each inward heave pushed
his anus inside of him, while the outward pull dragged against
it, causing the muscle to partially invert. This had the result
not only of greatly enlarging his opening, but darkening the ring
around his rose.

Lest one think that such treatment was cruel or something to
be ashamed of, one needs to remember that the lard included
additives that added more than merely perfume. One herb, taken
from the dandelion, was used to help relax the anus when a boy
lost his virginity. Another provided a mild laxative. Left within
the boy overnight, it had the effect of acting as a suppository
to ensure his stool was normal the next morning. A third herb, a
secret of the Mount, numbed the weakened orifice to mutual
advantage. Thus, instead of feeling any pain, Michel knew only
delight as his prostate was repeatedly attacked.

"Oh connoisseur of sodomy, thy name is Aidan," someone
laughed. "From now on we'll have to call you the Master of the
Shaft."

"I've never known a boy to be speared so mercilessly and not
seen gore," another master said.

"With a sword like that we'll have to call him Excalibur,"
one of the older boys jested. "What say you comrades, will we
name him for a sword. Rapier perhaps? Or scimitar, for his cock
is slightly curved. "

"Perhaps, but his tool is bigger than any man I've had,"
giggled a Favonius boy from amid the crowd of boys. "I'd call him
'Centaur', half-man, half-horse."

"A horse's ass," Master Devon snorted. "Priapus would be a
better name."

I slowed my thrusting to a gentle motion, not longer frantic
to ejaculate, but simply enjoying the thrill of being inside the
boy I loved. Back and forth, slow, steady. Michel sighed. His
eyes opened, fluttering. His thoughts filled my mind, no longer
of eager lust but subdued love. He would never be quite the same
and we both knew it. I had conquered him, and with victory, made
him mine. While he would sleep with others, no man would ever
possess him.

"So good," Michel said. His lips had not moved, yet his
words were clear within my mind.

"I love you, Honey," I answered with a thought. "More than
any other."

He contemplated that for quite a while. "Etienne?"

Etienne? I had loved his brother, but not like this. Not
this all encompassing, overpowering, consuming love. This was the
love that poets wrote of, love that made men die for boys, love
that persisted long after a boy was grown into man. I did not
answer beyond a smile, a smile that said everything.

"Hey Michel, did you feel it that time?" Sandor chortled.
"He fucked you good."

Michel nodded, breathing deeply, both of us resting before I
started again. He was content. He had what every boy wanted upon
the Mount, but seldom found before they left. Together, we were
fulfilled.

As luck would have it, but experience ensures, we came
together. I built up to the peak gradually, allowing Michel to
experience the full range of sensations while my mind churned
over what the Master had told me. When I felt my penis reach the
apogee of erection, I pumped against him. He twitched and bucked
and shared his spasms with me.

"That's two," I gasped.

Michel nodded and held up his small right hand with all four
fingers extended and his thumb bent against his palm. Was it
possible that he already knew the fragment of the Oracle that
called for me to mount him four times? Four times? The fingers of
a hand? What was equally perturbing was the look on his face. For
the first time I witnessed his strange bliss, his inner happiness
that came from a need that had been unleashed and fulfilled.
Then, he smiled.

"Do you think you're up to it, Master Aidan?" he teased with
a giggle and a smile.

My Michel was as joyful as a boy could be under the
circumstances. Surely, what he had been through so far that
night, had to make him sore. Yet there was no sign of the
temporary discord that many boys have when their rectums are
tender. I smiled back at him.

"If you are, then so am I," I taunted. "A man's cock can
take a lot of punishment and still come back for more."

"So can a boy's behind," Michel smirked. "Are you going to
put it in, or not Master Aidan?"

"You're not sore?" I ascertained curiously.

Michel shrugged. His voice lowered. It did not do for a boy
to admit that he was hurt. Sometimes, that reluctance could be
problematic for a boy could be injured if a man did not show
restraint when common sense warranted it.

"A little bit," he answered quietly. "It feels raw back
there, but I've waited too long for this to be put off by some
pain. I want your cock inside me, Sir."

"I'm truly honored, Michel. However, I don't want to hurt
you," I said gracefully. "You've proven tonight to be everything
I had hoped for. Mind my words, Michel. As a Sanctuary boy, and
Favonius as well, you're supposed to fuck until you drop, but as
my lover I want you to be a lot more than that."

"Four has always been my lucky number," Michel said
gleefully. "I want it inside me twice more before I leave the
Chapel."

Perhaps it was fate, for the Master's Oracle that claimed
that I would mount Michel twice more. For myself, I was as lust-
driven as I had ever been when confronted by a beautiful and
willing boy. So saying, his hands groped between us and he took
hold of my penis. After the last orgasm, it had reduced to the
dormant state. Michel, my darling boy, knew exactly what to do to
remedy the situation, for naturally it had fallen to me to
instruct him in the art of masturbation. Whatever skill I had
taught him, Michel had perfected. He used his hand like an older
boy, although his eagerness to get me hard was almost counter
productive at first. He rubbed quickly, using his fingers to
squeeze the shaft, then slowly, extracting my preseminal fluid
with delight. His thumbed rubbed across the tip, smearing the
slick excretion to the sides. He used that lubrication to
stimulate the glans, teasing with his fingers and scratching the
sensitive head with his nails.

By closing my eyes and concentrating-on what Michel was
doing, on what he wanted me to do, on how much I loved the honey-
hued boy who reclined before me-I became erect. Not gargantuan
like it had been before, but stiff enough to pass through the
portal of Michel's small bottom. Instinctively, he sensed that
additional stimulation could be achieved if my penis was in
another hotter, tighter place. And so Michel gently tugged on my
shaft and positioned the blunt tip where his opening was. Again
his moist soothing heat embraced my hardness. I entered him in a
single thrust.

"A good deep stroke, Master Aidan," Master Aubert observed
expertly. "There's no need to parry and thrust when a boy is
opened up. I imagine it's quite runny in his bowels by now."

I nodded and glanced over my shoulder. The audience was as
attentive as ever. Indeed, the boys had pressed closer to watch
the triple mounting. Three times was not a record for an
initiation for others had matched me when the boy was of the kind
to want it despite the pain.

"He's a foolhardy brat. I daresay he'll be passing out
before much longer," Master Kieran criticized. "He's not got the
stomach for much more."

I paused, staying full depth inside Michel. "The only thing
to be passing out tonight will be the gas from your dinner and
the air I've pumped in here," I replied.

"Then, pray tell me, Aidan, master of the sword, what is the
foul sound coming from the child's arse," he grumped. "Surely
he's shit upon your cock."

I growled and tried to hold my temper. This night was
Michel's special night. Why did Master Kieran have to insult him
with the worst slur a man could make? It was bad enough for any
boy, but for a virgin, the offense was hideous. It was also
unfounded for the boys had prepared Michel thoroughly despite the
time was short. His bowels had been properly flushed with
perfumed water, then lightly oiled with a finger steeped in the
fragrant extract of frangipani.

"The boy is as sweet as nectar, Master Kieran. The juice of
Ganymede is in him. That's all," I remarked offhandedly.

Yet in saying what was obvious to me, I felt an overwhelming
sense of pride. It was true. I could feel the added slickness
oozing down my shaft. There was a muttering and murmuring of
approval. While most boys dreamed of it, the fact was that very
few of them could claim to release mucus during sex. The juice of
Ganymede was prized by all, both men and boys upon the Mount.

"The juice of Ganymede?" Master Kieran queried with a smirk.
"He's a virgin, or he's supposed to be! You'd have us believe
he's making it the first time that someone's in his bum?"

A double insult! I fumed and tried to restrain my anger. To
challenge a boy's virginity on the night of his initiation was
among the worst of offenses. It was also a personal affront to me
for it implied that I would lie.

"Come up here and see it for yourself," I suggested.

"I can smell it," Sandor giggled. "No wonder they call it
the lily of the valley. It is the essence of a boy."

Master Devon growled and slowly approached the steps.