Date: Sat, 10 Feb 2018 21:41:38 +0000
From: J Wize <jaywizetoo@gmail.com>
Subject: The Monastery 3

DISCLAIMER:

This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit
sexual acts between men.

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read it.

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Copyright 2018, jaywizetoo, all rights reserved.

Please contact me at jaywizetoo@gmail.com if you like. I welcome all
feedback.


* * *

The chime rang around two-thirds of the way through Lauds, the second
prayer period of the day. I woke from what had to have been a deep,
dreamless sleep. My head rested lightly upon the polished wooden railing in
front of the pew in which I sat.

The monks around me were engrossed in their own prayers. If anyone had
noticed, there was no way of telling who that might have been now.

I was so tired. It would have been fair to say that I had not slept much
the previous night. Brother Barrett had made certain of that. He was the
tall, quiet monk I had first encountered in the cloister the night of my
vigil. That is, he was quiet even for one of the brotherhood. Conversation
was a low priority within the walls of the monastery. The monks generally
spoke in low tones, and only when necessary. I had learned, in fact, that
the words Brother Barrett had spoken to me that night were among the very
first he had uttered in nearly six months.

He worked in the tannery, and by all indications he enjoyed working there
by himself. Since discovering me, however, he had ventured outside more and
more often, nearly always, it turned out, to see me.

He never seemed to get enough of my mouth and ass. As the weeks had passed,
he had grown more confident and demanding with me. I could spot him easily,
walking down the corridors in his robe, those ice-blue eyes almost glowing
from beneath the dark wool hood.

He had taken me several more times in the lavatorium after that last
adventure, and at least a dozen evenings in my cell, the two of us
struggling not to grow too loud, lest we alert the other monks in nearby
cells to our passionate lovemaking.

I had spent many nights since out in the cloister, bent over the granite
rock at its center, or sprawled upon Barrett's tanning room table, smelling
scraps of leather as he buggered me again and again.

Last night had been such a night. The two of us had crept in secret out the
monastery's westward door and made our way into the old woods. There, he
had tied my wrists together on the opposite side of a smooth birch tree,
and then fucked me to two orgasms (he himself filled me with his seed at
least three times, grunting and bucking into me like an animal in rut).

By the time the two of us had returned to our own beds, the morning was
nearly upon us. I had emerged from my cell, bleary-eyed and walking with an
odd gait to complete my assigned duties. I would have to find time to nap
later.

Once Vigils (the first prayer period of the day) had ended, the assembled
monks had been dismissed to the refectory for breakfast. We generally ate
well, though simply. Eggs, cheese and fruits, oatmeal and hot tea or coffee
with fresh milk.

I had eaten voraciously this particular morning, but still felt like I was
dragging. Brother Barrett, too, had eaten a lot, but being a larger man
than most, his appetite had not shocked anyone there. We had all done some
work after the meal, though the interval between Vigils and Lauds didn't
afford us much time for anything but cursory chores.

Soon enough we found ourselves back in the chapel, heads bowed in prayer as
the lector took us through the day's catechism.

* * *

I shook my head to drive away the sleep. I couldn't believe I had been
foolish enough to nap during a service. It simply wasn't done. It was
disrespectful not only to the brotherhood of monks, but to God and to the
Lector. My face flushed with embarrassment. The service ended shortly
thereafter, and as the monks filed out the oaken doors, the only sounds to
be heard were the rustlings of woolen robes and the soft shuffling of
leather sandals. I would be the last to leave, as it fell to me to
straighten up after the others. The chapel was to be returned to its
original pristine condition before I could move onto other duties.

The dark, polished wooden benches gleamed in the morning light coming
through the windows as I gathered prayer books and psalters from their
surfaces. As I passed a bank of the benches I heard the sound of wood
creaking behind me. I turned to determine the source.

"Lauds is hardly the service in which I would imagine seeing a young monk
sleeping during prayer."

The voice was masculine and gentle, but possessed of unmistakable
authority. It belonged to the Abbot, Vasilios. He was tall, but not overly
so, and of Greek heritage. He had a stern, swarthy face and a beard of
mixed black and gray. I had only spoken with him on a few occasions, and on
each I had experienced a mix of intimidation, admiration and smoldering
lust. He looked as if he had once been powerfully built, but his bulk had
diminished over the years, at least from what Brother Barrett had told me.

I froze for the space of a few seconds, then answered him.

"Yes, Father Abbot. Please forgive me," I said. "I... didn't sleep well
last night and I couldn't help it. I promise, it won't happen again."

The Abbot walked toward me, his steps smooth and measured, and stopped a
couple of feet away. His gaze transfixed me.

I felt my cheeks burning under his stare, and looked down. The Abbot
reached out and lifted my chin with his thumb and index finger. I stared
into dark brown eyes that were as deep as the ocean.

"You have been here for nearly a year, my son. The work may be too much for
you, yes?"

"No, Father Abbot, it isn't that. I don't mind the work."

He smiled through the dark beard.

"Perhaps, then, the problem lies not in overwork, but rather in too much
leisure?" His eyes narrow slightly.

I looked at him, then, blushing furiously. Before I could answer him, he
nodded.

"I see." He drew in a long breath, releasing my chin. We were silent for a
few seconds, then he glanced to his right.

"You will come to my office this evening after Vespers, and we will discuss
this transgression. In the meantime, make certain this chapel is thoroughly
tidied, then report to your cell. Get some sleep before the noon prayer and
lunch. You are of little good to the brotherhood if you are exhausted."

"Yes, Father Abbot."

He turned and walked away in the direction from which he had come, then
disappeared through a door in the south transept.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. How in Gabriel's sack
had he known? I wondered just how far his eyes might wander about this
place. Perhaps he simply recognized that I was young and new. It would be
difficult for any young man to disregard the demands of his body and heart,
even in a place like this. I wasn't looking forward to a long lecture this
evening on diligence and discipline, no matter how handsome the source of
the remonstrations might be.

I looked around myself. The chapel wasn't exactly a mess; a mere handful of
minutes would be enough to complete the job.

Then I noticed it.

Beside me upon one of the wooden benches, a pool of shining liquid sat, as
if conjured from nowhere. I bent down to take a closer look, then sniffed
and blinked. It was semen, no mistake.

Sweet Christ, one of the monks had actually ejaculated during Lauds! I was
stunned. He must have been masturbating during payer beneath his robe. I
almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. And I was to be verbally
lashed this evening for falling asleep?

But my cock hardened instantly at the thought of one of the burly brothers,
stroking his meat beneath the wool robe, struggling to remain utterly
silent as those around him chanted, blithely unaware of what was going on
mere inches from them. I marveled at the wanton lewdness of it. He hadn't
even bothered to clean up after himself. He had to know that someone would
discover it and realize what it was. Perhaps he simply didn't care.

I breathed in, leaning down further to within an inch of so of the pool. It
was a big load, wide and still warm from the sunlight upon the smooth
wood. I was dizzy with lust at the taboo of it, in this holy place. I knew
what I had to do, but I hesitated. It was too filthy. Could I actually do
what my mind and body were urging me to do?

I answered my own question, snaking my tongue out and downward and laving
it across the pool, coating it in the man's hot load. I savored the salty
sweetness of it, potent and rich with sperm.

I imagined the monk's face, clenched in a rictus of pleasure under his
hood, holding in the moans and gasps that would normally accompany an
orgasm, a large hand wrapped around a pulsing, throbbing cock, its head
spewing white cream upon the polished wood, large thighs spread apart so as
not to touch the spreading pool of fluid.

The lust rose within me. I craved more of the anonymous monk's cum, and
begin lapping at the cream, drawing it into my mouth and swallowing the
essence of my brother. I had no idea who had been sitting there, but his
identity made no difference. I was drinking from him now. Perhaps he even
knew I would be the one to find his gift and consume it. Perhaps he now
worked elsewhere in the building, imagining my mouth and tongue working to
clean up his mess.  The cum coated my lips and chin as I slurped the pool
of cum from the bench.

I used my tongue to clean myself, licking around my lips like a cat that
had just finished a meal, then cleaned up the remainder of the wetness with
the sleeve of my robe, re-polishing the wood with the soft wool. I rose,
standing up and looking around myself. I wondered for a moment whether the
Abbot had noticed the pool as well, but at this point it did not matter.

After I had stacked the psalters and prayer books and wiped down the
remaining surfaces with a soft polishing cloth, I walked back to my cell
with the taste of monastic semen in my mouth, then I fell into bed and
slept, just as the Abbot had ordered.

* * *

Lunch was roasted chicken and vegetables from the garden with cold
cider. Work and study followed, and the day proved a pleasant one. Brother
Barrett seemed tired as well. Rather than breeding me in some quiet part of
the monastery, he had me suck him off in his cell; a risky proposition in
and of itself, but one I enjoyed immensely.

That night at the Vespers service, I made certain I stayed awake. And
though I kept a watchful eye during prayer, I saw no evidence that anyone
was preparing to leave another pool of semen on a pew or bench.

My stomach churned as I waited for the blessing and closing prayer. When
the Lector finally dismissed us, I made the sign of the cross and departed
at speed.

I felt eyes upon me as I walked the dim, stone-walled corridors on my way
to the Abbot's office. I wondered, irrationally, if they knew why I was
being summoned to speak to him. After several minutes, I found myself
standing in front of a large door that curved to a point at its top in a
classical gothic design, vertical bands of iron lining the oak boards as a
decoration.

I knocked, then waited.

A few seconds later, the door opened and I stood face to face with Abbot
Vasilios. He looked at me for a moment, then beckoned me forward, stepping
aside.

"Come in, my son."

The Abbot's office was simply appointed, but elegant and calming. The space
was dominated by a dark, heavy-looking wooden desk. Above and behind it,
stained glass windows in red, green, blue and violet formed the figures of
two angels, one on either side of the Virgin Mary holding her infant son at
the center.

The walls were lined with bookcases and pedestals bearing religious
artifacts and lit candles. Two wooden chairs sat in front of the desk, and
a larger one sat behind it.

To the left of the desk, a gilded wooden kneeler upholstered in dark red
velvet sat in front of a candlelit shrine containing a crucifix painted in
exquisite detail. The bleeding and dying Christ seemed to gaze down at the
kneeler with infinite compassion and love.

The Abbot closed the door behind me and walked back to his desk, settling
into his chair. I moved to stand before him. He leaned forward and opened a
file folder, then began to read.

"Brother William Barrett, age thirty-six. Currently Sub-Prior of the
Monastery of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux in charge of the Tannery. Assistant
Cellarer. Admitted to the brotherhood twenty years ago this October
fourteenth.

I felt a brief surge of anxiety as he spoke.

The Abbot looked up at me. "I am aware of William's... proclivities. He has
taken quite an interest in you, it would seem."

I swallowed. "Father Abbot, I..."

"He has spoken to me of some of the miracles of which you are capable. And
so I have summoned you here to see for myself the level of your commitment
to this monastery and its brothers."

I stared, my mind whirling. I could scarcely believe the Abbot would say
such a thing so bluntly.

What else could I do, but nod? He sat there looking at me, a half-smile
upon his aged, handsome face. He said nothing, but I felt his desire upon
my very skin.

Reaching up and back, I loosened the fastenings of my robe. I pulled the
hood forward over my shoulders, then let it slide down my body and pool
upon the wooden floor at my feet.

I couldn't recall a time that I had felt as naked and exposed as I did at
this moment, standing before the Abbot and watching him watch me. His eyes
followed every contour of my body as I disrobed, and I could almost feel a
physical sensation wherever his stare traveled.

He pushed back from his desk and gestured for me to come closer to him. I
walked around the desk and stood quietly, my hands at my sides and
breathing as evenly as I was able to. I closed my eyes, shivering as I felt
a warm hand cup my balls. Fingers roamed, exploring my cock, caressing it
and tracing every vein, every curve. I was hard as a rock.

"Your body is indeed beautiful, my son," the Abbot murmured. His other hand
found my shoulder and squeezed, then rubbed softly downward across my chest
and over each nipple. I clenched my jaw, resisting the pleasure as I let
him explore me. It felt like his fingers were emitting an electric charge
as he traced the cleft between my pecs and along the grooves in my abs,
over the crest of my hip bone and over the curves of my smooth ass.

He turned to face me fully.

"Kneel."

His voice was neither cold nor harsh, and I obeyed, sinking to my knees.

The Abbot returned his hands to his knees and gathered the dark material in
his fingers, pulling it upward.

"Show me," he intoned, "what you can do, boy."

The hem of his robe rose inch by inch, exposing the Abbot's strong legs,
then his knees. My eyes widened. As the robe reached the blades of his
hips, he exposed an organ that put anything I had ever seen in my short
life to shame.

It lay along his thick, furry thigh, wide and veiny with a large,
helmet-like head that crowned the shaft like the top of a monarch's
scepter.

"Suck it." The Abbot's voice was low, warm and seductive, vaguely
menacing. I didn't have a choice, though it would not have mattered even if
I had.

I leaned forward and licked in a slow, wet arc from the wrist-thick base,
up the extraordinary length of the tube, inch by inch until I reached the
bloated head, which was already leaking clear precum. I took it into my
mouth and the Abbot let out a long, hissing breath.

I slid a few inches of him into me and I felt the his hand on the back of
my head, guiding me, applying a gentle but steady pressure.

"Good boy," he whispered.

Moments passed as I let the warmth of my mouth soak into his flesh, moving
ever so slowly back and forth on the end of his imposing rod.

Someone knocked upon the huge wooden door and I jumped, began to pull away,
but the Abbot's fingers tightened in my hair, holding me firmly in place
and leaving his cock half buried in my mouth. He slide his robe over my
head, and down my bare back, turning in his seat back to the desk. I moved
with him, sliding beneath the wide wooden surface into the dim undercroft
of it, safely hidden beneath his robe, invisible to anyone who might
enter. The thick meat throbbed in my mouth, still hard and leaking that
intoxicating nectar onto my tongue.

In a moment of blind panic, I reached back behind me, under the edge of the
desk and grabbed a handful of my robe, which I had left sitting between the
two chairs. I pulled it under the desk with me, somehow managing to keep
the Abbot's cock between my lips.

"Enter," the Abbot called out, and I heard the door open, soft footfalls
approaching the desk under which I cowered with my balled-up robe, my mouth
full of my superior's prodigious cock.

"Your Grace..." the Abbot's voice shot up an octave. He sounded genuinely
surprised. My eyes widened under the robe. 'Your Grace' was the proper form
of address for a bishop, but I could hardly believe that such a dignitary
would arrive here without the Abbot's prior knowledge.

I felt the legs on either side of me stiffen.

"Vasilios, my old friend," an older voice called out. The soft footsteps
ceased in front of the desk, and I felt the Abbot lean forward to kiss the
bishop's ring. As he did, his cock grew in my mouth. He squirmed a bit in
his seat, as if trying to pull out, but I moved with him and used my
tongue, licking the underside of the wide shaft. I could taste the
salty-sweet precum flowing in greater volume from the big head.

The two spoke in low tones. It was difficult at times to understand
everything they said, but at one point I heard clearly as I continued my
slow, steady sucking.

"I have heard some things about the monastery of late, Vasilios. Disturbing
things."

The Abbot shifted in his chair, simultaneously leaning back in his seat and
scooting his crotch further underneath the desk, spreading his legs wide
and giving me more room to work on his meat.

"Come now, Paolo," the Abbot replied. "You know me better than that. What
is it that troubles you?" He reached a hand beneath the desk and grasped my
head through the dark wool of his robe, pulling me further onto his hard
pole. I nearly gagged, but managed to maintain control. The fat head pushed
further into my throat, curving down towards my belly.

"There are rumors, Vasilios," the bishop continued, "that some of the monks
here are falling short in their duties to Christ and the Holy Mother
Church.  This monastery used to produce some of the finest leatherwork and
illuminated texts on this continent."

"I was unaware of these failings, Your Grace," the Abbot replied, "however,
we spend most of our time in meditation, prayer and song, praising the
Savior, which is our primary mission. It does make the other elements of
our work a bit more... challenging."

I felt the Abbot relax and I began blowing him in earnest. The big cock
slid in and out of my throat easily now, as I took him deeper and deeper
with each bob of my head.

"Prayer and song are all well and good, Vasilios. But we must understand
that even though we are not of this world, we must still exist upon it and
contribute to the well-being and prosperity of Christ's church, yes?"

"I understand, Your Grace. I will make certain that our worship of Lord God
is of primary importance, but that it does not hinder our responsibilities,
or our enjoyment..." he took a breath as I managed to get all of his cock
down my throat, "... of the world in which we live. There are many
pleasures to be had, which are not in conflict with our service to the
Mother Church. The Shepherd's rod comforts us when the nights are long and
our needs are great."

I could heard the tension in the Abbot's voice as the two chatted, mostly
about the business of the diocese, matters of faith, and the expectations
of the Holy Church for this, one of the few (and the largest) Benedictine
monasteries in the western United States.

Shepherd's rod indeed. I let the huge cock pop out of my mouth as the two
droned on, and dipped my head lower to capture one of the low-hanging balls
in my mouth. It was large and heavy in its furry sack.

The Abbot's voice wavered as I sucked the second orb into my mouth as
well. His cock bucked and bobbed against my face as I nursed on the big
nuts, my cheeks puffed out, stuffed with the source of the Abbot's very
manhood.

Minutes passed as I sucked on the plum-sized balls. The conversation taking
place above me apparently wrapped up, and the Abbot rose from his seat, his
testicles popping out of my mouth, wet and glistening. The robe rose along
my back and slipped back over my head as I huddled under the polished
wood. I imagined Abbot Vasilios was grateful his attire was so forgiving.

He walked the bishop to the door, the two embraced and exchanged farewells,
and then the door shut.

"Come out from under there," the older man commanded. I obeyed. By the time
I slid from the desk and stood up, the Abbot was already slipping out of
his own robe.

He was built well for a man in his early sixties, not as heavily muscled as
Brother Barrett, but healthy and still possessed of the proportions of a
man many years younger than his age. His body was softer, covered in
iron-gray and black fur. His chest was still broad and meaty, with large
nipples that sagged downward from the weight of what once were undoubtedly
large and powerful pecs.

But that massive organ; it dominated the rest of the Abbot's body, jutting
straight out from his groin and bobbing up and down as he moved to step out
of the robe now pooled upon the floor.

He walked from the door past the desk, to the kneeler and its attached
shrine. Pointing down at the red velvet rail just inches above the hardwood
floor, he looked at me.

"Lay here, with your head upon the kneeling rail. Then he stepped onto wood
himself, between the lower rail and the higher one facing the candlelit
crucifix. I crossed behind the desk and stretched out, still completely
nude, upon the floor, resting my head upon the upholstered wood.

The Abbot made the sign of the cross above me as I looked up from between
his hairy legs.

"In nomine Patri, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen."

He lowered himself then, his hands folded before him on the upper rail, and
squatted over my face.

"Use your tongue, my son," he ordered, "While I pray for the sins of this
monastery."

The Abbot's hole, wide and fat-lipped, touched my mouth, and I opened it to
welcome him as a lover might kiss his beloved. The kiss was slow and
reverent, the warm anus pressing against my lips as I sucked lightly. My
tongue snaked out and slid up the offered passage, deep into the Abbot's
insides. He settled down further with a groan as he began to whisper his
prayer.

My cock throbbed almost violently. I dared not touch myself, lest my body
betray me and climax prematurely. Here I was, in the office of the highest
ranked member of our cloistered mountain brotherhood. I had sucked his
cock, taken his balls into my mouth, and now made love to his hole,
frenching it with all of the passion of a newly wedded groom for his bride.

The older man chanted his prayers in Latin as he ground that big ass down
on my face. With each downward push, he seemed to be trying to get my
tongue further up into his guts, his breathing turning ragged as my
squirming tongue violated him.

I lay there in a dream state as I tongue-fucked him thoroughly, alternating
between deep thrusts up his hole and sucking upon the swollen lips, my
tongue circling his anus as I made lewd, wet noises, and as he continued
his communion with God.

At last, with a shudder and a growl, the Abbot rose and crossed himself,
then reached down to take me by the scruff of the neck. He pulled me upward
and turned me so that I was kneeling before the crucifix.

He reached over, then, and dipped his fingers into a silver bowl at one end
of the kneeler, slathering its contents over his massive, throbbing rod. I
recognized the substance immediately. It was oil, consecrated and holy, to
be used only for the most sober and sacred rituals. The horse-thick manhood
now shone with it.

The Abbot moved behind me and spread my asscheeks. I felt the huge head
press into me. Inch after inch of him disappeared up my ass.

"Be thou anointed with holy oil," he gasped as he fed all of himself into
my guts. The inward plunge seemed like it would never end; one long, slow,
unbroken movement into my innermost places.

"Ungh," I grunted. He was deeper now than anyone else had ever been. When I
finally felt the hair of his groin against my ass, I swiveled my hips,
marveling at the sensation of impalement upon the swollen, wide dick.

"Oh God, yes... fuck me Father Abbot," I moaned.

He leaned forward, growling into my ear through warm lips, "From this time
forward, boy, you will confess your sins to me directly. All of them. And
in three months' time, I expect to have heard about your carnal relations
with every monk within these walls. From the youngest to the oldest; from
the shortest to the tallest; fat, thin, handsome and sultry, or ugly as the
devil himself, you will suck every cock, eat every ass, swallow every
monk's seed and sample every brother's golden piss without question or
hesitation. That is your service to us, and to Lord God, from here on
out. Is that clear?"

I nodded, as he thrust harder and harder, hammering himself into me as he
described in explicit detail the level of debauchery he expected me to
reach.

He reached around me, the sounds of his belly slapping my lower back, and
wrapped an oily hand around my bouncing cock. The strong fingers jacked me
roughly as we both drew nearer to our climaxes.

"Fuck," the Abbot gasped, "squeeze your father's cock with that tight hole,
boy. Milk me and I will baptize you with holy seed." I tightened my ass
around the huge meat as it slid in and out of me, fast and powerful, deep
as he could force it.

"Oh yes, boy. Give your body to Lord God. He is making love to you through
me. I belong to Christ. My body and soul are his, so he fucks you now. Can
you feel him, deep inside you? Worship him with that ass. Worship him in
spirit and in truth. This is what you were made for, my son."

I grunted as my cock began to shoot hot, young cum all over the kneeler,
and the tight ring of my anus clenched and unclenched with each powerful
spasm of my balls.

The Abbot bellowed and drove himself into me all the way, and my hole was
widened lewdly, impossibly, by his almost super-human organ.

Deep within my guts, the enormous piss-slit widened, opened, and a great
gout of potent white, sperm-rich cum filled my colon, bloating it around
the fist-thick shaft. I could actually feel the power of it, the heat of
it, as jet after jet filled me, the cream pushed by sheer pressure deeper
inside of me as the old monk bred me. I was convinced, for a moment, that
he could actually impregnate me with this horse-sized load. It had happened
to the Virgin Mary, hadn't it? Why not me?

It was only after another few minutes of the two of us sprawled over the
kneeler, breathing in gradually shallowing gasps, that the Abbot's cock
slid out of me with a soft plop. The massive load ran in thick rivulets
down the inside of my thighs. I was amazed at the sheer volume of it;
impressed that one such as Vasilios held such a position of high
importance; but not surprised that a man of his prowess and raw manhood
would rise to such a rank from amongst his peers.

As I looked back, I saw him, hairy chest wet with sweat, that huge dong
swaying and dripping as he moved.

"Remember my words, boy. Perhaps once day you will earn the honor of
swallowing seed from the bishop himself. He is not immune to the charms of
beautiful young men like yourself."

I retrieved my robe and slid into it. I barely had time to straighten it
before the Abbot opened the door. I moved swiftly to leave the office, but
Vasilios caught my arm and swung me into one side of the door frame,
pinning me there with his body. His lips found mine and his tongue tongue
slid deep into my mouth.

The kiss was long, wet and passionate, nearly stealing my breath before he
pulled away and shut the door behind me abruptly, leaving me panting and
weak-kneed in the middle of the corridor.

I passed several monks on the way back to my cell. I looked at each of them
with fresh interest. I wondered how I would manage seducing all of them. It
was a safe assumption that not all of them preferred men, which would
present a particular challenge, if the Abbot's orders were to be obeyed.

I was hard again by the the time I closed my cell door behind me, and I
stroked myself to two more orgasms before I finally surrendered to
sleep. My dreams were filled with thoughts of God, of the Abbot, of the
Pope, of all of my brother monks with their cocks hard, leaking, aimed at
my mouth and ass, all ready to use me to the utmost of their desire.

And I was eager for it all to begin.

Sic erat pax.

* * *