Date: Wed, 23 Dec 2009 07:31:34 -0800 (PST)
From: Bill <bil47_new@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Father Christmas"

Place: The city of Myra on the southern coast of Asia
        Minor (present-day Turkey)
Time: Late December of the year 315

It had been a busy day for Bishop Nikolaos, and tonight
would be even busier.  He had written his annual letter to
the faithful, copied it a dozen times and given them over
to the messengers, so it could be read tomorrow in each of
the Christian churches of his diocese. Additionally, many
of his parishioners had come to him this day for
confession.  Late tonight, the bishop would be delivering
small pouches of coins - anonymously if possible - to needy
families, both Christians and worthy pagans.  Nikolaos had
inherited moderate wealth, but he led a mostly simple life
and found great satisfaction in giving the money away.

Standing in front of his small, unadorned church, Nikolaos
paused for a few moments to watch the setting sun cast an
orange glow on the array of boats down below in the harbor.
Then he went inside the building and securely bolted the
doors.  It had been two years since Constantine had decreed
religious tolerance throughout the vast Roman Empire,
finally legalizing Christianity, but it was always prudent
to guard against vandalism.  Christians were a distinct
minority in Myra and the surrounding province of Lycia, and
most Roman citizens still reviled them.

Nikolaos went to his living quarters behind the church,
changed out of his priestly robe and put on a plain tunic
that bespoke neither wealth nor poverty.  He wished to
attract no attention when he set out on his gift-giving
rounds around the town, later that night.

As he ate his modest supper, Nikolaos felt a hunger
stirring inside him that food couldn't satisfy.  It would
be so much easier if he could banish his sexual desires,
making him more worthy in the eyes of God.  But he knew
himself too well.  The priest lived alone, having taken an
oath not to marry or keep a mistress, so that he could
devote his time to his work.  But he hadn't taken a vow of
celibacy.  And like many Romans, particularly those in the
Greek territories of the Empire, he preferred to quench his
lust with boy-prostitutes.  There were several boy-brothels
down by the waterfront, and each establishment had some
particular qualities that appealed to Nikolaos.  As he
thought about his favorite boys, and the things they did
for him, his penis began to stiffen and a shiver of desire
ran through his body.

On this particular night the boy-whores would no doubt be
busy, as there were three holiday celebrations coinciding.
The major Roman holiday of Saturnalia was always an excuse
for widespread parties and merry-making.  The Syrian-based
cult of sun-worshippers celebrated the winter solstice (the
"reborn sun") with several days of decadent abandon.  And
finally, Nikolaos and his Christian flock were celebrating
the birth of their Savior, though in a more restrained
manner.

The priest made his way down to the harbor, mingling with
drunken celebrants on the streets, until he arrived at the
city's largest boy-brothel.  Even before he entered, he
could hear the raucous noise within. The normally-sedate
bordello, where boys entertained their customers in small
private rooms, had turned into a shameless orgy this night.

The proprietor was usually fastidious with his finances,
charging customers for each goblet of wine consumed and
setting a specific fee for different types of sex acts
provided by his boys -- starting at a single nummus coin for
a quick hand-job.  But tonight he was just collecting a set
fee at the door - 10 nummi -- and letting the customers help
themselves.  Watered-down wine flowed freely and the naked
brothel boys busily serviced customers -- often more than
one customer at a time - in plain view of everyone. The
owner had even rented additional boys for the night --
slaves from nearby plantations and cabin boys from merchant
ships docked in the harbor.  None of these were
professional whores like the brothel's resident slave-boys,
but all were well-experienced in pleasuring men sexually.

Nikolaos walked through the outer room, which was
essentially a tavern where customers and boys mingled
before going to one of the small rooms in back.  There was
a naked 13-year-old dancing atop one of the tables, his
captivating erection bouncing and swaying as he moved his
hips seductively.  A younger boy was busy refilling wine
goblets and getting his immature penis and smooth little
butt groped by customers almost constantly.  A half-dozen
more boys, aged 10 through 14, were servicing ten men.
Some of the prostitutes were on customers' laps, being
fondled and kissed.  Others were working on their knees or
laid out on a table.  One boy was taking care of three men
at once, with one fucking him while the boy alternated
sucking and jacking the cocks of the other two customers.

The priest accepted a goblet of wine and went to the back
hallway of the brothel, looking for his current favorite
whore -- a slender 12-year-old Greek slave named Alexios.
The corridor contained a series of small alcoves, furnished
only with a narrow pallet-bed, where the boys usually
served their customers behind a curtain pulled across the
entrance.  But tonight the curtains were all open and there
were men fucking boys, and boys sucking men, in the hallway
and crowded into the alcoves.

He found Alexios in a 4-way with two men and another boy.
The boys were laying on their sides on a pallet, sucking
each other in the 69 position, while the men were behind
each of them thrusting their cocks into the boys' assholes.
Two other customers were crowded into the little room,
stroking their stiff cocks and waiting their turns with the
boys.  Nikolaos watched the erotic scene from the doorway,
reaching beneath his tunic to fondle his erection, but he
didn't join in.  He had enjoyed a good orgy when he was a
younger man, but it no longer appealed to him.  After a
time he left, his lust unsatisfied, and made his way a few
blocks to another brothel.  This one was smaller, more
private, and more specialized in its services.

Knocking on the door, Nikolaos was greeted warmly by the
proprietor.

"Welcome back, sir!  Happy Holidays to you!  Do you desire
your usual service tonight?"  Nikolaos nodded, blushing
slightly with embarrassment.  "I have two suitable lads
available for you at present, Bucchio and Pyramus. I
believe each of them has served you before."  He called in
the two boys, one age 13 and the other 14, who were wearing
tunics so short that their barely-pubescent genitals were
only half-covered.  Both projected the demeanor of tough
and cocky street-urchins, with none of the deference and
flirtation typically presented by boy-whores.  Nikolaos
smiled.  Yes; he'd had them before, and they both were good
at their special work.

"How much for both at once?" asked Nikolaos, feeling his
heart beating faster with excitement.  Considering how many
gifts as he would be giving to others later in the night,
he decided he deserved a Christmas present to himself.

"That would be 20 nummi for an hour with them.  Would you
care to select the tools the boys will use, or would you
rather have them surprise you?"

Nikolaos paid the man and said "These two know what I like.
I trust them to please me well."  He was eager to get
started with his vice, which was a total role reversal of
the usual dynamic of boy-whore and customer.  He craved the
thrill of being debased by dominant young boys such as
these... being stripped... spanked... verbally humiliated
by them... "forced" to suck their beautiful slender cocks,
and being fucked in the ass by young slave-boys.   As the
three of them walked toward a private room Nikolaos's penis
was so stiff, throbbing so intensely in anticipation, that
he feared he might orgasm before the role-playing action
even began.

But then the sounds from a room they were passing caught
his attention.  Not surprisingly, it was the sound of a
whip whistling through the air and striking flesh.  A young
boy's soft whimpering and a man's verbal abuse.  In
addition to customers who wanted to be dominated, this
brothel provided service to men whose thrill was to abuse
young boys.  Catching only some of the words, Nikolaos felt
compelled to move closer to the door from which the sounds
came.

"Take that, Christian scum!"  The whip landed with a slap.
"See if your pathetic `savior' can protect you from this!"
The whip landed again.

The boy was speaking too, but he wasn't pleading for mercy
or crying in pain.  Instead, he was murmuring in a quiet
voice, pausing only to clench his teeth as the whip-stroke
landed on his bare back, buttocks, and thighs.  "Pater
hemon ho en toes ouranoes; hagiastheto to onoma sou...."
He was reciting the "Our Father" as he was being whipped.

Nikolaos opened the door, finding a 12-year-old boy
standing naked in the center of the room, his arms raised
above his head, his wrists tied to ropes hanging from the
ceiling. There was a thin strand of hemp-fiber cord tied
loosely around his neck, from which hung a tiny wooden
cross.  Set firmly on his head was a crown of thorns, made
from coiled branches of a rose bush.  Trickles of blood ran
from several places on the boy's forehead where the thorns
had pieced his skin.  Incongruously, the boy's immature
penis was standing up fully erect.

The customer was naked too, his stiff cock impressively
thick and long, and his body corpulent but strong-looking.
He held a whip of nine leather thongs, and he was ready to
bring it down again on the boy's back as he continued
voicing his anti-Christian rant.

Nikolaos stared for a long moment, open-mouthed, his brain
trying to process the information.  Surely, he instantly
concluded, this is a sign from God; a message intended for
me alone.  "Stop!" he cried out impulsively.

The customer turned around, his expression puzzled.  He
looked at Nikolaos and the two boys standing behind him in
the hallway.  "Is there a problem?"  He sounded confused,
not angry.

"Yes," replied Nikolaos.  "I'm buying this slave, so you'll
need to stop now.  I'm taking him with me.  You can use
these two; they're paid-up for the next hour, but I won't
be needing them now."  The man stood with a puzzled look on
his face, his penis deflating, as Nikolaos untied the ropes
from the boy's wrists. "Come with me, lad." The boy obeyed.

Nikalaos took the slave-boy by the hand and led him back to
the brothel's entrance, where the proprietor looked just as
confused as the fat customer had been.  "I will buy this
slave from you for 5,000 nummi."  It was a price well in
excess of what a comparable slave-boy would cost at
auction. "I will take him home with me now and will return
straight away with your money.  You know me, and know that
my promise is good."  It was an offer the brothel owner
could not refuse.

The boy ran to get his tunic and sandals -- his only
possessions -- and returned to the bishop's side.

"What is your name, boy?" asked Nikolaos as they left the
building and began walking up the steep cobblestone street
toward the church.

"Iesous, master," said the slender dark-haired slave-boy.

The word almost took the man's breath away, and confirmed
that God was indeed testing the priest. The boy's name was
"Jesus".

When they got back to the church, Nikalaos had the boy
remove his tunic (an obscenely-short slave garment like the
two other boy-whores had worn).  Welts criss-crossed his
backside, from his shoulders to his knees, and the man
treated them with healing salve.  He found an old tunic of
his own and put it on the boy.  It was too big, but he cut
the bottom so that it didn't hang down so low.

Then Nikolaos got the money that he was going to give away
later that night, put it in a pouch and handed it to
Iesous. "Take this, lad.  It is yours.  You are no longer a
slave, and there is enough money here to let you get a new
start in your life.  If you wish, I will help you find a
good family who will take you in and teach you an honest
trade.  For tonight, you will sleep here at the church.
Now I need to go back and pay your former master.  There is
food for you in that cupboard if you hunger while I am
gone."

Nikolaos went to the secret place where he hid his money,
took out the amount he needed, and replaced the rest.  Then
he went straightaway to the brothel and paid what he had
promised to the still-incredulous proprietor.  When he
returned to the church, Iesous was lying on the bed beneath
the covers, as if asleep.  Nikolaos came over and ran his
hand through the boy's hair.  Iesous opened his eyes and
smiled up at the priest.

"Is there anything you need, boy?"

"I need to show you my gratitude, master."

"You should not call me `master', as you are no longer a
slave.  Call me Father Nikolaos."

"Yes, Father.  But I must still show my gratitude."  The
boy pulled back the covers, revealing his naked body.  His
penis was fully erect and utterly beautiful, well along in
its nearly-pubescent growth, but still boyishly slender.
"What would you have me do, Father?  I am yours tonight."

Nikolaos had not intended to take pleasure with the boy.
The lad was holy... a messenger from God.  But if he was a
messenger, then this too must be part of God's plan.
Whether it was God's will or not, the priest knew that he
hadn't the willpower to resist the temptation.  "I would
have you lie back and allow me to serve you," said
Nikolaos.

The man knelt beside the bed, ran his hand over the soft
skin of the boy's thighs, lightly fondled the half-size
balls in their silky pouch, and tenderly stroked the
exquisitely stiff boy-penis with his fingertips.  Then he
leaned down and captured the youthful boner with his lips.
He flicked his tongue all around the slender cock-head,
half emerging from its sheath of foreskin, as he tasted and
inhaled the boy's musky essence.  Then his lips slid all
the way down the smooth warm shaft to the hairless base of
the finger-length boner... then back up, and down again.
The man's body trembled with ecstasy as his mouth worshiped
this perfect boy-cock.  His heart soared as he listened to
the boy's soft sighs of pleasure, as Iesous tensed his body
and held the man's head gently in his hands.

Nikolaos used all his skills to bring the boy to a
powerfully intense dry orgasm, with Iesous's body shaking
and his pleasure-groans unrestrained.  Then the man got
onto the bed and took the boy in an embrace, holding him
close and kissing his soft lips.

"Father?"

"Yes, boy?"

"Can I stay with you?  Not just for tonight, but always?  I
wish to return your money too.  It should go to the work of
the church, to give glory to our Savior."

Nikolaos thought for a moment and decided to trust his
instincts once again. Yes; this truly must be God's will.
"You may stay, Iesous.  I will take care of you, and you
can be my helper.  Are you serious about returning the
money to the church?"

"Yes, Father."

"Then get dressed.  We will go out together to deliver my
gifts to the worthy families of the city."

"Thank you so much, Father," said the boy softly, his
facing beaming with love.

The priest's throat tightened with emotion, and his eyes
misted with tears.

"Father?"

"Yes, my son?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, Iesous!"

The End