Date: Wed, 30 May 2001 17:40:11
From: Ganymede
Subject: The Ring Around the Rose, Chapter 3.

WARNING:


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

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

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


THE COPYRIGHT OF OTHERS:

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


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FINAL WARNING:

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



The Ring Around the Rose, by Ganymede



Chapter 2. The Making of the Rose in Bud and Bloom.


I huddled in a blanket of fibrous, roughened wool and dreamed
of boys. Blond boys. Brown-skinned boys. Boys with blue eyes.
Boys who laughed and boys who played. Boys who lay belly down, or
upon their backs. Boys with their legs up, or their legs apart,
or boys who stood bent over and took it like a man. Boys who
knelt on hands and knees, boys turned away and on their sides,
and boys who squatted down. Boys who loved to love and to be
loved in return, and boys who pleaded for more. Boys like Sandor,
Kadri, and Carlin. And Etienne.

Not Etienne, not again, I begged silently, and yet amid the
miserable pain each memory brought, I wanted him desperately to
return. I shivered and sweated under that too-thin woven blanket.
My fever came and went, and then came back again. Always Etienne.
He smiled and teased me, and proudly strutted naked, arching his
body to a curved thin bow with his penis sticking out in front.
'Cupid's arrow' I called it. He hugged and humped against me. He
sucked me too, swallowed most of it, and promptly gave some back
to me. And in return, I rewarded him with my tongue pushed inside
his special place. He liked it there, as much or more than I did.
Wet and squirming, giggling as only a boy can, and opening his
anus up like a lily after rain. Then we mounted, and one upon the
other, in consecrated union, copulated often. That night, as
exhausted as I had ever been after having spent all night awake
with him, I finally slept. I lay alone but dreaming of crimson
roses in bud and bloom.

Even then, my sleep was fretful and not restoring. At times, I
tossed and turned. My mind wandered and images of naked Etienne
dancing, returned and danced with corybantic glee in my head.
Etienne was such a beautiful boy, I truly believed there was no
equal. I loved that boy more than any other man had ever loved a
boy. Hard, or softly dormant and asleep, it made no difference
when love was there. Yet, my mind was slowly adjusting to the
cold emptiness his death had left both within my mind and upon
the bed beside me. I found myself praying for company, a hot-
blooded boy to keep me warm during the cold long hours of night.
But no one came.

I awoke in the early hours well before the cold gray of dawn
was fired by the sun's first distant pink hue. I shivered and
curled closer to the wall. It was even colder near the stone.
Gathering the blanket around me, I arose and stood before the
window. There was ice around the edges and my breath turned the
greenish glass to white. With difficulty, I opened the latch and
breathed in deeply. And then I coughed and coughed until I choked
and finally vomited out the last of the awful bile within me. I
felt expunged, freed of misery despite my constant shivering. I
gazed upon that infinite horizon and tried to perceive where the
land was not black mud. Again, the tide was out. From above, even
in the gloomy half-light, the rivulets were everywhere. When I
could no longer stand the shivering, I went in search of human
warmth.

The chamber I had been provided for the night adjoined the
Library. It was fortunate indeed, that one of the servants came
to stoke the fire. After he had gone about his other tasks, I
gathered my blanket closer to me, selected a text and took a
well-worn seat close to the fire and began to read. Some would
say that it was pure happenstance that I chose that book. Others
would say that it was all part of a grand plan, predicting the
Oracle at work. I began to read 'The Way to the Inner Sanctum'.
It was a Latin work of uncertain origin, but pedantic nonetheless
despite what I understood of the pederast's intent.

I relished the translation, discovering things that once
learned, had not been forgotten. My fever appeared to have
departed. A weight had been lifted from my chest. I could breath
without constriction. My hands still felt numbed, and my throat
was sore, but I was better, or so it seemed.



"Aidan?"

I looked up sharply. Master Aubert stood before me. He was
completely bedraggled, his hair tousled, unshaven, his eyelids
darkened to a dirty hue.

"A long night?" I smirked knowingly.

"Too long," he chuckled. He yawned sleepily. "Remind me start
to correcting whoever says that Vulturnus boys don't like it in
the butt," he announced shamelessly. "Thank the lard, for that
may have been the hardest night for all this year."

"Then I shouldn't ask if you slept well?" I taunted.

He gave me a sour look that promptly turned to a smile. "Who
slept? Not me! I don't know who got fucked the most. Them or me.
Have you broken your fast yet?" he asked.

I was slowly becoming used to the rapid manner in which he
changed direction. I shook my head. "Not yet."

"That's good. You can eat with me later on. You seem a little
better today. The fever's gone, Aidan, Aquarius?"

"It was bad last night," I muttered. "I dreamed of,...." I
stopped myself. I shook my head. "Some things are best
forgotten."

"A few more days I expect before you're up to leaning on your
elbows." He smirked. "The Master sent me to find you. Master
Aleyn died last night, did you know Aidan?"

I stared at him in shock. "Master Aleyn? Dead?"

Master Aubert nodded. "We all knew it was coming soon. His
time had come. He knew it too. And to think he took a lad to bed
just yesterday at noon. Not bad for ninety-two, eh?" he smiled.

"Not bad at all," I agreed. "Perhaps there is some truth in
that adage, 'young boys will both tire a man to death and keep
him younger'."

"It's true enough for me. I'm exhausted from their rutting.
The little wretches don't loose erections. The Favonius
novitiates will need your undivided attention as soon as you are
up to it, Master Aidan, Aquarius."

He changed the subject without adjusting tone but emphasized
the last three words, my name and now my sudden title. I shrank
back in fear. I had not expected that. I expected to do my duty
at a tutor, but nothing more than that until I was well
accomplished at what was needed. Little boys were different to
boys who were old enough to mate with warriors.

"I,... I don't know what to do." I sighed and hung my head.
"I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to teach. The Master did not
even mention that small detail. Just that I was to take charge of
the young Favonius."

"And that is enough for quite a while. They may be young and
small, but there are twelve of them. You'll soon discover that
they are all eager to learn all there is know. You'll have your
hands full in more ways than the obvious," Master Aubert
chortled. "You saw Kadri's mounting last night so you'll
understand exactly what I mean."

I nodded and put the heavy leather-bound text down. "Master
Aubert," I began awkwardly. "I've thought about it, I don't know
that I can,..."

He interrupted me. "Not Master, Aidan, not unless there are
boys around. We're equals now. You may not realize it, but you
have a lot to offer. All of the boys need you, not just the lucky
twelve who'll share their chambers with you. However, right now,
two of them need you more than all the rest."

My expression was quizzical. It seemed that there was a great
deal that I had forgotten. He gestured for me to stand and I
hauled myself up from the seat and stood on uncertain feet. I was
taller than Master Aubert by nearly a full head, yet for four
years I had bowed to him, served him in every way that a boy can
serve a man, acknowledged him as my master.

"It's going to be a busy morning for you, my friend. The time
has come to mate young Carlin. He's waiting in the hall already.
Then, there's the new boy you'll have to greet, and the Roses in
Bud and Bloom to be made."

"How is Kadri this cold gray morning?" I asked.

Master Aubert smiled. "A little sore I expect, but to be
honest, I haven't seen him. However, I'm told that Candric
examined his posterior. I hear the lad's bruised quite nicely if
not as big as some have been."

We walked together from the Library and into the Great Hall.
Carlin was waiting. His hair had been brushed until it sparkled.
His eyes were bright and I was pleased to see eagerness reflected
there. His tunic was spotlessly clean and his sash was neatly
tied. He smiled happily and I was happy for him. He reminded me
of Etienne when I first laid eyes upon him. The boys were so
similar that despite the long tresses that cascaded down his slim
back, he could have captured my heart the same. He leaped to his
feet and boldly rushed to greet us.

I clasped his hand in mind. Still small, I realized, but big
enough to wield a sword or hold a dagger. His hand was moist and
hot with excitement, and he appeared to be buoyed with
effervescent life. It felt good to shake his hand. With my other
hand I gently stroked his cheek and cupped beneath his chin to
lift his head up.

"You're very beautiful, Carlin," I said wistfully. "And you
were very good last night with Kadri. I thank you as the new
Master of Favonius novitiates."

He grinned proudly. "He's a sweet boy, Master Aidan," he said
softly. "He loosened very easily once he relaxed and started
pushing out. I can see myself in him, almost as if I were looking
in a mirror."

"It's approaching mating time. Are you ready young Carlin,
Libra of Favonius?" Master Aubert asked guardedly.

Carlin nodded boldly. "I am, Sir. Master Kieran has gone to
fetch the Master of the Sanctuary. It's nearly sunrise."

Even as he said that, they approached. We greeted them, and
following them in turn, placed Carlin within the square we
formed. We proceeded down the stairs, the very same stairs that
Carlin had ascended exactly four years earlier to the dawn of
day.

The Great Court was cold and damp just as it had been the day
before. The entry portal was wide open to admit the day workers,
and one other when Carlin departed. We gathered in the center of
the Court before the octagonal pedestal carved of marble. That
font was said to have preceded the Sanctuary in construction, as
ancient as the ancients themselves. It was hollowed to form a
hemisphere, a basin holding purifying crystal water. We waited,
pulling our cassocks closer to keep out the wintry air. I
shuffled my feet, stamping every so often to agitate the
deadening sensation in my toes, hopeful to greet the sun's first
rays should the clouds allow it.

"It's cold as a woman's scorn," Master Kieran observed. "Not
that I'd know from personal experience," he added.

"Some sun would be nice. I miss the heat of summer," Master
Aubert admitted. "The sky seems to be clearing in the east," he
added hopefully.

He was right in his observation for there was a paler sky that
way. However, to my eyes it seemed highly unlikely that there
would be sunlight before the day was finished, so used was I to
the constant cloudiness that pervaded both the sky and my mind
since Etienne had died.

They came to the portal and stopped there, confronting the
scene before them with reluctant expectation. For two of them,
one man, one boy, they stood before their futures, one to stay,
the other to leave in the company of another. The other person
was a woman, whose only role was to hand over her nine-year-old
male offspring as replacement for the boy who was about to leave.

Beside me, Carlin trembled with excitement, feasting his eyes
with a look that promised both bold passion and sensuous
seduction. The man who he gazed longingly at was powerfully
built. He had a broad chest, and shoulders that seemed equal to
Hercules. His arms and legs were thick and hairy. He wore the
warrior's armor, polished leather and glittering metal. It was a
distant cry from the shapeless cassock that I wore. I smiled,
recognizing him. Phillippe, Capricorn, of Vulturnus. He was
Captain of the Fourth Legion and renowned for more than his
proficiency at war. The rumor that Master Aubert had shared with
me, about Carlin's likely mate being endowed with a horse-sized
penis, was not too far from the truth. I squeezed Carlin's small
shoulder fondly. Before long he would need every bit of his
Favonius training. He would be ridden hard and often.

The man was the first of them allowed to enter. He approached
the font. The Master stepped toward him and firmly grasped
Phillippe's hand and bid him welcome. The newcomer's eyes met
mine and he raised an eyebrow in the unspoken question concerning
my new role. I signaled with a slight shake of my head. For the
present, perhaps forever, I was done with wars, and battles with
dragons, and the scorched remains of little boys.

"Carlin, Libra, Favonius," the Master intoned. "Come hither
boy."

I nudged Carlin gently and whispered in his ear not to use the
lard sparingly. He grinned wantonly in return and wriggled his
behind enticingly. He stepped forward and smiled at the man who
he would soon be mated with. Standing before Phillippe, a
veritable giant of a man, poor Carlin looked so small that I
glanced at Master Aubert with concern. He smiled, rejecting that
the match was inappropriate. Phillippe had competed and the rules
were clear. Unless Carlin turned him away, the mating would
proceed.

All eyes moved to Carlin. The lad regarded his future
companion with curiosity, almost as if confused by what he saw.
This warrior was different to any man he had been with. He was
young, and strong, and intensely arousing, judging by Carlin's
skittish motion. He turned to the Master of the Sanctuary, nodded
and answered with a smile. Then, the boy reached down, both hands
along his sides. The Master unfastened the red sash and parted it
so that the woolen tunic opened at the front. There was no
question of the effect that Phillippe had on boys like him.
Carlin's penis stuck straight out. It was as hard as any penis
that I had ever seen. It was smaller than Etienne's male part,
but what Carlin lacked in size was unimportant. That part had a
minor role for a Favonius boy. With a single shrug, the tunic
dropped away, leaving the boy naked in the cold.

"Carlin, Libra of Favonius," the Master began. "Stand thee
with this man, Phillippe, Capricorn, Vulturnus?"

"Lord Protector, Master of the Sanctuary, I am his boy,"
Carlin said meekly.

"Phillippe, Capricorn, Vulturnus, I ask the same of thee.
Stand thee with this boy, Carlin, Libra, of Favonius?"

.Phillippe answered in a warrior's voice. "Lord Protector,
Master of the Sanctuary, I am his man."

That was all it took to contract, a promise for a promise,
freely given without restraint or fraud. That pledge, as ancient
as time itself formed the union of man and boy. The tying of
their wrists was but a formality that symbolized the bonding that
would occur in flesh once they were beyond the sanctuary gate.
The Master lifted up the red sash that Carlin had worn for all
but a month of the last four years. This was the tie, symbol of
the binding that came from love.

"Blessed is the union of man and boy," he pronounced loudly.
"I join thee, Phillippe and Carlin."

They held hands, Phillippe's right with Carlin's left.
Rightfully, the boy was given the place of honor. The Master
wrapped the sash around their wrists, binding them tightly,
before knotting off the ends. They gazed in wonder, seeing each
other, seeing love reflected. It was strange how it happened.
Some called it alchemy, a perfect match. Etienne and I had never
each the other before the sash was tied, yet from the very outset
we were lovers. Before Etienne, I was never content, yet once I
saw him, I knew boundless joy. There was no reason to it, no
explanation that could be found save attraction, understanding,
desire, and some mystical quality that joined us, first in
spirit, then in mind, and then we coupled. We loved devoutly. As
would Phillippe and Carlin love, albeit differently for no pair
was the same. That a union could be so utterly perfect, was the
miracle of it all. Whether it was alchemy or Divine purpose, I
could not fathom.

We watched them leave, a fur-skin cloak hastily wrapped around
Carlin's lean form to protect him from the wind. Seeing them walk
away side by side, I wondered what would happen when they mated.
A boy turned thirteen that very day, a smooth, soft-skinned boy
who was still as graceful as a gazelle, and a man who was as big
and strong as a bear.

"He will be happy enough," Master Aubert smiled. "Have no fear
of that, Aidan. I've seen him with a girth within him equal to
what his man has there."

"That big?" I asked.

Master Aubert nodded. "That boy has practiced long and hard
for what's expected. I've from heard Master Kieran that he's
often used unnatural means to widen Plato's Portal. That's not
unusual to do for Favonius to get ready to take a mate."

The Master, Lord Protector of the Sanctuary, beckoned to the
two people remaining at the gate. One was the boy who would enter
only when Carlin passed him. He took a tentative step, not daring
to cross the threshold until Carlin was beside him. The gap
narrowed, then together they moved, one foot before the other,
then another as they neared. They stopped side by side.

"Ninety-six, no more, no less than that," the Master uttered
with a booming voice. "One leaves and one enters to take his
place."

Each boy took a single step, leaving one boy within, and the
other, mated and without. Each confronted the unknown. Carlin
inclined his head and smiled at his replacement. Then he turned
away, and hand in hand with Phillippe, they turned the corner of
the portal and disappeared from sight.

"He's a pretty boy that one, I must say," Master Aubert said
admiringly.

He was a very pretty boy, that boy who stopped just inside the
gate. At first glance, he was pitiably small, but in reality no
smaller that the rest of the boys who entered through the portal.
A meek lad, born and bred Favonius if ever there was one. He was
dressed in splendid clothes. A thick ruffled collar of silk
fringed his neck. He wore an embroidered purple satin jacket and
black velvet breeches that flared above the knee, and long black
boots with a pearly sheen. His head was covered in a imperially
plumed hat. His clothes were not the clothes of common people.
Yet, what startled me was not so much his clothes as his bearing,
proud and stately. The boys who entered the Sanctuary had but one
thing in common, a characteristic instinct that sought out men as
lovers. They came from far and distant places, from farms and
city dwellings. They came both rich and poor, seeking solace from
the world. But this boy? His attitude was extraordinary,
apprehensive, majestic, bewildered; and seductive. I smiled
across the courtyard.

Even from a distance I could see that he was blond. There was
a wisp of curling hair beside his head. And he was beautiful.
Very beautiful. Some inner sense informed me that this
unfathomable boy was beautiful in ways that few boys were.
Enigmatic beauty that came from heart and soul. My heart went out
to him, seeking an alliance that came from a single glance alone.
His eyes met mine, and locked. Suddenly, it was I, Master Aidan
who felt vulnerable and confused.

His mother stood behind him. There was no father. Few fathers
ever attended a son's induction to the Sanctuary. Their shame
precluded that last farewell. For a moment, I reflected that I
had seen the woman before. An image flitted through my mind of a
woman dressed in black, shrouded, hooded, cloaked, on a bitterly
cold day. It seemed long ago, but it was not. I swallowed and
felt my legs weaken until I had to place my hand on the marble
font to hold myself up. I wiped my eyes, then my brow. My hand
came away wet. I was sweating despite the cold. Etienne. ETIENNE!
Etienne was dead! Yet, he was here, standing there before me. I
shook.

"Advance boy, for there is nothing here to fear," the Master
coaxed.

Etienne trembled. He turned, anxiously reaching for his
mother. She did not move, yet she said something to him that none
of us could hear. He beseeched her. Only then, did her head move
to deny his claim to her. My Etienne was being turned away.

I wanted to scream 'NO!' My heart pounded as the boy I thought
was dead, nervously came closer. Etienne! I wanted to shout his
name. He was so beautiful, even more beautiful than I remembered.
My mouth stayed open, my eyes compelled to join with his in
stunned silence. My fever peaked. My cassock was drenched in
sweat. My hands turned clammy, then so weak that I could not feel
the font. I gripped the edge and prayed it was a dream. I had
gathered his scorched remains and held them to my breast. My
Etienne was dead.

"Prince Michel, I bid you enter, this Sanctuary of Roses, this
sacred haven of our kind," the Master said in welcome, yet his
words passed me by.

I quaked violently. My role was vague, so hazy in my mind that
I blinked and tried to understand. Fortunately, Master Aubert
grasped my problem. He touched my arm and indicated that I should
rest and not worry. He stepped forward and took the boy's small
soft hands, placed them into mine.

"Welcome,... Scorpio,.... To Favonius." I managed to say
before I shuddered sickly. The heat flushed my face, yet I was
white as snow.

"It is the rule for each new entrant, as for the boy who
leaves, to go naked into the world that welcomes him," Master
Aubert took over to fill my place.

The boy glanced at me uncertainly and I nodded absently in
approval. It was all that I could do. Already that timeless bond
of man and boy was forming once again between us. Merely looking
at him was all it took. What reason remained to me argued
incoherently that if this striking boy was Etienne, then that
very moment had to be but four years before I met him. My memory
disagreed. He had Etienne's eyes, and mouth, and nose. He was
perfect in every way, as Etienne had been, and was.

I watched, or rather I managed to hold my eyes in his
direction. Master Aubert undressed him. First the hat with its
long red ostrich plumes, then the jacket. Golden buttons were
unfastened, the embroidered satin opened and lifted from his
arms. Underneath he wore a silken blouse, with a broad band of
lace frills upon the front, a line from neck to navel. The
buttons were of pearls, each orb perfect and the same. Beneath
the shirt, was virgin boy. His skin was honey-hued, and flawless.
His pinprick nipples were like jewels, startling in their
intensity. I dared not lower my gaze beyond his chest. Master
Aubert knelt as much in homage to the splendid boy before him as
to perform the task required. He unsnapped the buckles on the
boots and gently tugged them free, then stockings, then the
flared black breeches. Only one thing remained to be removed. He
fumbled at the silken loin strip, unfolding the ends, carefully
unwinding to reveal the male-child contained within.

That part I would not allow myself to see. Just before I
closed my eyes, the first ray of sun in days broke through the
clouds and struck him full-length, from head to toe. Divine
light, light that signaled a life about to reborn. His honey-skin
glowed with energy. It would have been a sin to look upon
Etienne, exposed before the world like that. Let others look but
I would not.

"Master Aidan, it is custom that he is bathed by you," the
Master said. "If the sacrament is beyond your strength, Master
Kieran can perform the rite in your stead."

I shook my head, my eyes still closed. I fell heavily to my
knees, reached up into the font and dipped my hand. The water was
bitterly cold despite the trace of warmth the sun gave forth.
Indeed, in the corners there were shards of pointed ice. I felt
for the boy whose body I knew to now be naked. My hand grazed his
slender thigh, the ridge of his hip, the curve of his buttock. He
was soft and smooth and still warm to touch. With one hand cupped
and shivering, I brought the water to his body. I anointed him
from head to toe, as every boy who had entered the Sanctuary was
cleansed of the other world. His baptism had begun.

I have but a faint memory of that beginning. My mind was
tortured by memories, of Etienne naked throughout summer,
fleeting across the dunes, splashing in the waves that washed
upon the surf, cavorting in the verdant forest, and in the
rippling water of a creek. I thought of him at night, in bed and
hidden among the furs. It was a game we played. A game of love
and lust and sometimes brutal passion that kept us awake
throughout the night. How I loved to touch him, to feel his body
respond to mine and achieve a hardness that defied my efforts to
match. I loved him I loved him often, the way that men were
supposed to love boys.

The chilled water froze his body for his sex was puny and
shriveled like a prune. I barely touched that tiny member, the
symbol of his sex, and yet he stirred. My hand jerked away, my
fingers numb with ice-cold shame. I hesitated to replace it. This
boy, my Etienne, so close to me that I could sense the change
down there, that male part nobly rising. Behind my eyelids, my
memories went on. Of Etienne prancing through a brook, splashing
his pee upon a rock, giggling when we changed mid-stream in
mounting, always seriously intent when we pretended fighting hand
to hand.

Finally, I could take no more and I staggered to my feet. I
slumped against the font again, barely cognizant of what went on
to complete the induction. By the time my mind had cleared enough
to warrant opening my eyes, the boy was dressed in a snowy woolen
robe and a white satin sash was tied about his waist.

One thing remained to be done to admit him into the Sanctuary.
The Master held out a small gold bracelet. Not silver? I stared
at it in silent bewilderment. Etienne was trained not as Favonius
but of Vulturnus. This bracelet also confirmed the symbol of his
name, a Scorpio in bold outline. It was, by my arm, very small.
What confounded me far more than color was the Order, for Etienne
had been born under the sign of Gemini. What was not surprising
was the added symbol. There was the familiar three-headed dragon
engraved below a crown. Again, I regarded it with blurry eyes. By
deed and act as much as bracelet, my Etienne had often given me
cause wonder. Was it possible that the boy who I loved more than
any other was a boy of royal blood? With a shaking hand I gave my
approval for Master Aubert to do the duty in my stead, for it
mattered little who among us placed it on his slender wrist.
Cleansed of the world beyond and attired in white, the virgin boy
was ready for his rose.

He turned once and anxiously regarded his mother. She barely
raised her hand. There was no fond farewell. He was one of us
now. The Master turned curtly on his heel and led the way back
into the stair. The boy's regal clothes were left there beside
the font. Others would take them, poor people who worked by day
in the Sanctuary. The boys in the village would benefit, even if
they looked out of place in rich fabric and styles better suited
to life at Court. Again, with the newest boy kept within the
center, we climbed the Favonius stair again, all of ninety-six
cubits.

Even in my exhausted state, my mind continually sought reason
for that was the nature of Vulturnus. Etienne had been like me.
Impetuous at times, but more often than not, he tried to
understand. If this nightmarish reverie was punishment for the
ignominy of living, as it surely seemed to be to me, then why
Favonius? What had changed? If I was to live my life with Etienne
again, then why change that fundamental characteristic of his
life? Why begin a life again when he first entered the Sanctuary?
Why could I not look upon him as I had before, an aggressive boy
of Vulturnus? So many questions with no answers that I could
find.

The boys had gathered in the Great Hall to celebrate the
arrival of the new boy. They watched attentively as the four
masters escorted him in. A virgin, just as a Master, deserved
reverence, and they bowed before us. Dutifully deferential, the
boy also bowed his head in modesty, averting his eyes as others
gazed upon him.

The Master walked slowly to the dais and with a firm hand on
mine, we ascended first with the others falling in behind. He
paused there and surveyed the boys before him. My eyes could not
focus and I blinked and kept my eyes as slits. My head ached and
my legs were shaky, but I was not so weak that I would falter.
With poise and forceful prose, the Master made the announcement.

"Boys it is with regret that I inform you of a Master's
passing. Master Aleyn, Aquarius, has gone on from this world to
another. Grieve for him for that is how our memories are made
stronger, but think of this. He was happy here with you. Boys
were made to be loved, and he loved his share as you all can
witness. He died without regret. He bade me read, for you these
words." He paused again and summoned strength.

"'His beauty had reached its fullest bloom.
One more day and the timidity of youth
Would grow into the dark daring of the man.
His taut limbs on fire with yearning...
Shy and fleeting as the morning dew
Destroyed by the sun in adoration,
Shone dazzlingly in Zeus's brilliant light.
The gods hold dear that class of mortal boys;
Their splendor loves to pair with such dark nakedness.
So Zeus - He saw the sweet secrecy
With which the boy each day, body and soul,
Offered sacrifice, as he swept from his clear brow
The dark overflow of hair, as his eye
Lingered dreamily on the sky's blue brightness,
Or (the evening mist veiling his light limbs)
He, become flesh, desirous, quite alone,
Walked through the sadness of a shimmering field.'"


The Master paused and caught his breath. "In this Sanctuary of
Roses, the same rule that applies to boys, ninety-six, no more no
less, applies to masters too. We must number twelve, one man
taken from each Order. I have beside me Master Aidan, Aquarius,
Vulturnus. He will take Master Aleyn's place to attend Favonius.
Please welcome him."

"We welcome you, Aidan, Aquarius, Vulturnus, Master of
Favonius," rang through the Hall.

"And as we move from Libra to Scorpio, as is the custom, with
Carlin gone and mated, tis my pleasure to introduce another. This
is Michel, born under Scorpio, a virgin of Favonius," the Master
resounded through the Hall. He placed his hand upon the boy's
small shoulder and directed him to step forward. "Bid him welcome
one and all."

"We welcome you, Michel, Scorpio, virgin of Favonius," the
boys repeated with a single voice.

Michel? Etienne? It made no sense to me. I knew only one boy,
the one boy who I loved best. My boy's name was Etienne. And he
was neither Scorpio or Favonius, but Gemini and Vulturnus. I
shook my head and tried to clear the cobwebs. Perhaps it was I
who did not understand. Had I heard correctly? The walls leaned
inward and I steadied myself by bracing my arm against the wall.
The ceremony proceeded past me, vague words spoken in the mist
within my head.

"As is our custom on the Mount, each boy is marked to show his
entry to the Sanctuary of Roses," the Master slurred, or that was
how it sounded to me. No matter how I tried to listen, three
words in four were shrouded. "Michel, Scorpio, the sacred sign of
what you are will be concealed from others by the veil of skin
that hides your rose. It is the beginning of your initiation."

"Upon his penis and equal to the tip that's veiled with skin,
he needs the sign to show his Rose in Bud," ninety-five boys
chorused.

"Aidan? Are you all right?"

Master Aubert's head was close to mine, yet my ears heard
indistinctly. His voice sounded foreign. I shook my head again. I
did not need to feel my brow to know that beads of sweat were
gathering there. I swayed and slumped against the wall. The
Master's voice droned on relentlessly, his words mingled into one
another until my head was jumbled.

"Last Evensong, as all here saw, we witnessed the mounting of
the virgin of Favonius, Kadri. This day, now that he has been
ringed for all to see, Kadri, Libra, will celebrate his loss of
innocence once more. The rose has bloomed and must be shown."

"Upon his rose and equal to the ring, the Libra, Kadri, needs
the sign to show his Rose in Bloom," ninety-five boys chorused.

"So be it," the Master said. "Let the Master of Favonius
attend them in the Making of the Rose in Bud and Bloom."

"Aidan, another can take your place you know. Are you sure
that you are up to this?" Master Aubert asked in a worried voice.

I heard the concern in his voice. I stood uncertain of what
was expected, yet aware that I would do what was needed. This
role had been given to me. The duty was mine. I was Master of
Favonius novitiates. There was only one insurmountable problem
ahead. Only twice in my life had I climbed the tower, once for
bud and once for bloom. I staggered away from the wall, dreading
the climb that lay ahead.

The two boys stood side by side, so close in every way, yet a
month apart. Both boys were nine years old. One boy was a virgin,
the other not. One was at the beginning, the other at the end.
Alpha and omega. Who had said that? I stepped between them and
took their hands. Small hands, soft hands, warm hands, hands
without the strength of men. I led them towards the massive
foundation of the tower. Once away from the assembly, my panic
settled. So far to climb. A thousand stairs some said, into the
very apex of the steeple that crowned the pinnacle of rock. A
thousand stairs without a break. The boys beside me chatted
freely, also without break, yet so dulled was my mind that I
ignored what was being said. We began to climb. The stairs were
carved from blocks of stone, each one spiraling above the last,
ever lifting one foot above the last.

"If you're a Scorpio, Michel, then you're determined? I've
heard it said that they are passionate as well. Are you
emotional?"

"If this day is my birthday, then I assume that sign's
attributes."

"Today?" Kadri ascertained.

He nodded. "What happens, Kadri? When we get to where we're
going?"

"Ah, that." kadri smiled. "This is the first part of your
initiation."

"Initiation into what?"

Kadri grinned. "Do you not know what this place is?"

"No, not really. My father said something about it,... and
me,... That he didn't want me to be near him,... I can't help
it,... he said I have the making of a 'faggot'.... He said I
belonged here, on the Mount,... away from all,.... The only place
where I could not shame him,... I'm frightened, Kadri."

Kadri giggled. "I was scared too, Michel. But not for long. In
time, you'll learn the shame's not for us, but them."

"What is this place? I don't understand anything."

"This is the Sanctuary of Roses," Kadri explained with a
meaningful smile.

"That's a big help," he chided. "A Sanctuary of Roses, but I
haven't seen any flowers."

"You will in Spring, however the roses here are for a
different reason. This is a place for boys like us."

"Boys like us? Because we're different?"

Kadri paused and looked to me for help. Speaking even a single
word at that point in the climb was much more than I could have
managed. I nodded slightly. He seemed like a reasonably
thoughtful lad. In some things, it was better that boys talked
together.

"There are boys who prefer girls, and there are boys like us,"
Kadri added simply as if that all that was required to make the
complex simple.

"Like how?"

"Some boys like men..."

"I used to like my father. Perhaps I still do."

Kadri laughed. "Not that kind of like. I should say love for
that is what we feel within. Some boys like boys as well, but
most of us prefer a Master. I am speaking of boys who would
sooner turn about with men that enter a vagina"

"Everything you say is a riddle."

"It will become clear soon enough. By Sagittarius is the time
for you, Scorpio boy. Let me put it this way. You know why a
stallion mates with mares."

"That helps."

"Let me finish. Does a stallion love a mare?" Kadri asked
seriously.

"Love? I don't grasp why you ask me that. It might, but who
can tell. My father's stallions are always mating."

"Perhaps with one mare love might be possible, but with
dozens? Hardly. It mates only in order to reproduce. That's all,
your father's studs are no different. The same is true for men
and women. They talk of love, but is there love when nature's
only purpose is for them to breed? Take away that fertile purpose
and what is left?"

"I don't know."

"Platonic love, or nothing. Plato talks of pure love, the love
between men and boys. It is an ideal love that exists for its own
sake. I think I am getting this right. Master Aidan?"

"You are doing wonderfully, Kadri," I rasped hoarsely.

"With men and boys, there is no breeding, so love must be
true. Our love is stronger than any other. The ancients
understood what should be obvious to all."

"What is that?"

"That we are special. That mated man with boy, each becomes
eternal by virtue of that love," Kadri stated firmly.

"But how? Without breeding, when a man dies, his line dies
with him. He cannot be eternal without begetting sons."

I coughed violently and placed my hand upon the wall to hold
my balance. I swayed uncertainly, grateful that the boys held up
against me. The Master turned. By then he was a dozen steps
ahead. He looked concerned. I shook my head in futile denial. I
would go on.

"That's true, Michel. Yet, a man's love continues after his
ending. It's passed from man to boy, and to his boy, and on
again. Our love is sacred. It is not impure. It exists solely
from our shared happiness. From such perfection, it necessarily
becomes eternal."

Both boys pulled against my hand, joined as if their combined
efforts could lead me upward. I groaned and pulled with them,
dragging my feet from one step up to the next.

"You still haven't told me what happens here?"

Kadri giggled. "That's easy, Michel. We're trained to love and
fight, even us Favonius. The ancients also realized that when men
love boys and they fight together, they are stronger than a host
of others. You have heard of the great Alexander, son of Phillip
of Macedonia?"

"Yes."

"His boy was Hephaestion, a love that lasted until both were
men. And there was Achilles with his Patroclus, and the God
Apollo who bed Hyacinthus, a fourth was,..."

"Enough! Then the ancients fought their battles harder for
their boys?"

"By day they fought together, side by side. And throughout the
night they rutted, for boys and men must have that. They must
share a bed for love to manifest."

Sweat poured from me as I plodded upward. I breathed hard,
gasping for each draft of air. Up and up. Ever ascending. No time
to rest. Ahead, the Master set the pace. Never slowing, yet not
rushing his measured steps. Three times I swayed, and one time I
even staggered back, but two boys pulled me forward. I kept my
balance, stopping on a stair and unable to continue further. I
held their hands even tighter and shook my head at them. Sweet
Kadri grinned and tugged to get me going once again, and they
pushed and pulled when I began to tire. Both boys were so small,
both barely nine years old, and already serving a man. So on we
climbed, trudging ever higher, ascending into the most hidden
place of all, that chamber where the rose was made.

The place we sought was concealed behind an ancient door. The
thick rough-hewn oak was darkened, nearly black, and dimly
threatening, although why it gave me cause to hesitate, I did not
realize. The hinges were wrought of iron, as was the lock which
was shaped exactly like a rose. The Master took a key, strangely
shaped until one thought of the human part it represented. The
door swung open and warm stale air wafted out. Beyond, was a
smallish room with walls of chiseled ashen stone. Of plain
appearance, it was without decoration or articulation. The
geometry consisted of a cube topped by a sacred pyramid, the
latter created by the vesica pisces. In all, I recognized the
vestige of an ancient truth. This was the common ground of two
equals who were joined inseparably. It took the form of the all-
seeing eye to manifest shared vision. This place was timeless.
Eternity dwelled within it. In time, and in due course, both boys
would begin to understand. However, for the present moment, this
unseen place denied their comprehension beyond the setting for
admission to the Sanctuary of Roses.

The Master smiled at me warmly. "You've done well, Aidan. Tis
a long climb we have to make the roses, even when we have our
strength. When this is done, I will expect you to rest and
recover your health. Let us prepare the rite that joins our kind,
boy with boy and boy with man."

I nodded weakly and followed him within. I glanced behind me.
The boys hung back. Consternation was evident on a virgin's face,
while on the other was a perceptive smile that came from knowing
what transpired behind the door.

"We can't enter until we're called," Kadri explained in a
whispered consoling voice. "Don't be frightened. It won't be long
before we're called."

"What happens how?"

"They put the signs upon us. Last night I lost my virgin's
hole so I'll go first. My rose has bloomed, not once but twice."

"That's clearly said."

"It means I have a ring around my rose," Kadri giggled.

"Even clearer."

"Shhh. It's very simple." Kadri said, still giggling. "Just be
patient. It'll all be evident in a moment."

So long had passed that I had nearly forgotten about that room
buried in the tower. A nine-year-old boy forgets so much in
growing up, but not that special tower-chamber for he carried the
symbol of its meaning upon his body twice. This place was the
Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the Rose in Bud and
Bloom.

With mounting interest, I gazed around me. There was no
furniture within save a dodecahedron made of a single block of
camphor wood. Twelve equal sides, representing every Order, each
face a precise pentagon, all connected to fit exactly within a
sphere. This was Plato's sacred mystery, the place where Platonic
Love reigned supreme. The perfect love between a man and boy was
everlasting, eternal love, love that existed not for reproduction
but for the singular purpose of uniting human spirit.

The uppermost face was Libra, a set of scales carved in low
relief. I touched it lovingly with my fingers. The wood was
smooth, polished by a thousand bodies that had laid upon it while
the sign was made.

"Master Aidan, will you be so good as to bring the boys in and
remove their robes," the Master asked as he went about his task.

He took a wide-necked flask that held a single dried rose from
a niche within the western wall. There were exactly twelve of the
flasks, some emptied, but most with roses still in place. He
carefully removed the petals from the stem. These fragile crimson
foils he placed in a mortar, and with a pestle meticulously
ground them into dust. While he did this, I shuffled over to the
boys and, taking them by their hands again, led them into the
room. I closed the door behind them and drew the barrel bolt.
What happened now was very private.

First, I turned to the virgin boy. My Etienne, the boy who I
loved. He stood quietly and showed no sign of recognition beyond
a hint of a shy nervous smile. My hands trembled when I reached
down to his waist and clumsily unfastened the small white sash.
He smiled at me with curious eyes, taking everything in with
growing fascination. His robe parted in the middle. I kept my
eyes on his, knowing what was exposed between us. I had seen it
often. Yet, from the corners of my eyes, I saw his skin. Smooth
unblemished skin, skin that had seen the sun was the color of
honey, the hidden rest was the hue of almonds, but would darken
quickly in summer sun. I slipped the robe from his shoulders,
folded it in half and turned to Kadri before my concentration had
a chance to wander.

What a difference a day made. Kadri smirked boldly, proudly,
even stepping closer. His eyes flashed and locked on mine. This
boy was no longer the innocent child who had been abandoned by
his parents for a single flaw. My hands fumbled, undoing the knot
that had been hurriedly tied in the red satin sash. End over end,
then under, then back, across and under. All it took was a single
firm tug. It was the knot of boys who appreciated lust, of boys
who felt an urgency to mount and who needed to shed their robe in
haste.

He shrugged as soon as the front of his robe was open and the
wool gown fell away from his shoulders. He had a splendid little
body. His skin was considerably paler than Etienne's. I thought
first of milk, but it was far from white. Not even pink, but
cream-hued, a delicate shade that gave the impression of never
having seen the sun. The night before he had been inhibited, but
that time was in the past. He presented his erection arrogantly,
standing stiffly outward. All told, it was no larger than a
finger; his finger, not mine. The foreskin, like that of all boys
his age, was surfeit, the excess coming to a blunt small point.
It veiled the precious bud within, revealing underlying shape,
but nothing more. Yet, even as I stared in affectionate awe, the
darker crimson hue beneath was evident.

Kadri giggled and in sudden shameless sport, retracted the
surplus skin with a simple backward movement of his hand. He
exhibited that tiny ruby, the crown jewel of a boy's gender.
Already beautiful by nature's design, what the hand of man had
wrought upon his flesh was wondrous to compare. The rose was
perfect, if somewhat swollen. I scowled at him with good-natured
irritation. With another quick flick of his wrist, the rose was
gone again.

"Come boys, it's time you stroked the dragon," the Master
quipped.

Lifting his arms high above his head, he slipped his freshly
washed cassock off in a single fluid motion. He was shaved from
tonsure to toe. That was not uncommon among the masters,
particularly those who dwelled within Favonius. Indeed, I even
contemplated taking the razor to my own body once I was feeling
better. Even Etienne once said he preferred me without hair, yet
stubbornly resisted my suggestion to remove the few sparse hairs
that had recently appeared on what had previously been so smooth.

The Master, while hardly fat by any measure, lacked the
powerful muscles of a warrior. To my eyes, he seemed soft,
striking my mind as being gentle and not unlike a Favonius boy.
Still, I envied him his strength. What rose up between his flabby
thighs, denied a lack of interest in the boys before him. His sex
was rampart, fully erected, swollen hard. He sat down upon the
dodecahedron, his legs apart. He beckoned first to Kadri. The boy
grinned and jauntily stepped across to him. He knelt on the floor
and promptly reached up to grasp what was offered. His fingers
closed around the short thick shaft, squeezing lightly, then
slowing moving. First down, to reveal all of the crimson head,
like mine, like Kadri's own, the veil of skin pulled back to show
the rose in brilliant red.

I glanced at them with fascination. A man and boy exploring
nature's bounty, the staff of love for all Favonius. Then, Kadri
bowed his head and opened wide and performed that arcane
submissive role. Barely had he touched the tip, than his tongue
came forth and licked. He tasted and swiftly smirked in bold
assent. It was no secret that the taste had been found agreeable
to his palate. He licked again, and squeezed the shaft,
extracting more of the fluid, what some might call the
quintessential nectar of manhood. The Master chuckled.

"Your tongue is certainly hungry, Kadri," he said admiringly.
"Now, you Michel. It's time you learned the taste of men."

Kadri giggled and moved aside. "It isn't bad, Michel," he said
aside. "Take a deep breath and just touch your tongue to it. It
takes a moment before you'll want to lick."

I rested my eyes again, closed them tightly and relished the
darkness. I heard the Master's patient voice, comforting,
encouraging, inspiring. From the sound of it, he had two apposite
pupils. Both boys were eager, taking turns to engage his member.
My eyes were unnecessary. Sound alone would give direction
although I had to listen very carefully. Young soft hands made
little noise. Indeed, I heard the faintest sound of what could
have been the flutter of a butterfly. It was the Master's ragged
breathing that said otherwise. He groaned and grunted, and
offered advice to his two youthful masturbators.

"Faster, Kadri.... Hold the eggs a little tighter, Michel. You
will not hurt them... Roll your thumbs over them and squeeze....
That's right..... Use two hands if you like..... Suck harder,...
Up and down,... Use longer strokes,.... Alternate with short
ones,... It's better wetter,..."

"I'm getting tired. Michel. You rub his cock a while and I'll
suck his rose," Kadri chortled. "The taste alone is enough to
make me horny."

"Does it feel good?"

"Trust me, it does. Very good.... You've never done this, not
even to a boy, Michel?" the Master asked.

"No sir."

"Well, you're doing very nicely, especially for your first
time. Don't hold too hard. Be gentle with it until the end. Let
the skin move over the shaft as well as through your hand. You
can go faster if you wish."

The wings of a butterfly became the wings of a sparrow, rapid
energetic beats that ebbed and flowed, became faster, then
slower. I sighed, imagining the pleasure that four small hands
and a mouth could give a man's penis and testicles. Just the
thought caused my erection, yet I was too weak to take advantage.

"It's getting close now," Kadri giggled. "You can tell when it
starts to quiver."

"It's bigger now."

"Yes it is. He's straining too, that means it's near. I'll
take over. Keep the bowl close."

And then the sparrow became a raven, then a hawk with powerful
beating wings. I did not need to look to see the Master's
agitated penis contained in expert hands. Kadri rubbed with
furious delight, extracting every possible feeling. The man's
body stiffened. His penis pulsed. His mouth opened in a silent
beseeching cry of frenzied joy. And then he spurted. As the first
white blast shot forward, Kadri's fingers pinched the tip and
held it tightly. Some escaped, but he held the flood until the
bowl was placed before the stirred-up dragon. He released his
grip and the Master's penis jerked and squirted, four more times
before it dribbled empty.

"See," Kadri giggled. He held the bowl out for the other boy
to see.

"It looks like egg white."

"It's not," Kadri said expertly. "It's his seed, Michel. The
same thing that makes a baby in a woman, will shape the roses
that make us his sons."

"How?"

"You'll see."

"Thank the lard, you'll know by Sagittarius, Michel," the
Master chuckled. "You both did very well. Next time, Michel,
you'll take the lead. Practice with your master often."

The Master turned and glanced at me. "Another advantage of
Favonius, Master Aidan, are boys who aren't reluctant to,...
Aidan,... Aidan,.... Are you all right?"

I could barely hear him. I blinked, holding my head between my
hands. My eyes were blurry. My face was hot as bright red coals,
yet I was shivering uncontrollably.

"Sit down Aidan, before you faint. Let me help you."

I shrugged off his offer and knelt down on the floor. It was
all that I could do to hold my head up. The Master took the bowl
from Kadri and stirred the mixture to a crimson hue.

"The first thing to do is to put mark upon our little Libra,"
the Master indicated. "Come young Kadri. Let's complete what
Master Kieran started on the Altar. Take your place by lying face
down on the Scales."

I guided the pale-skinned boy forward, then slowly crawled on
my knees until I knelt in front of that consecrated dodecahedron.
I held his hands to draw him down. The Master moved behind, used
both hands to part his rounded milk-toned cheeks. In silence I
watched him inspect the area, that private place where love was
born.

"You're none the worse for it, Kadri. It's as nice a ring as I
have seen on any boy your age. A nearly perfect circle and big
enough to show with pride. The rim is swollen noticeably so it's
a little sore perhaps. Does this hurt?" he added, prodding gently
at the distended reddened opening.

"No, Master. It itches just inside, Sir," Kadri said over his
shoulder.

The Master selected a thin rose thorn, as long as any that I
had ever seen. A cruel curved barb with a razor-sharp point. Then
taking a brass stylus, he placed the thorn upon the end and
locked it into place by screwing on a weighted cap. He squatted
down upon the floor.

"Michel come help me," he said softly. "Place your hands on
Kadri's cheeks and pull them open for me to see between them.
Yes, like that. Wide apart. As you know, this will take some
time, Kadri. It will hurt for a while so grit your teeth and bear
it. Don't be afraid of crying. Most boys cry at first, but it
won't last long."

He dipped the thorn into the bowl, shaking off the excess
solution. Crimson like the color of the rose of love. He started
at the seam, that line that nature made on every boy from the
beginning to the end, the line that joined the roses, one in bud
and one in bloom. With the first sharp prick, the anus tightened
to a wrinkle. Kadri gasped and uttered a tiny panicked squeal. I
held his hands tightly and his knees clamped hard around the
mitered polyhedron underneath him.

The other boy watched in quiet amazement as the Master's
stylus tapped its necromantic message. He dipped the thorn again
and swiftly completed the first outline of a petal. Kadri
whimpered, and clutched my hands.

"Nearly done with the first petal," the Master said quietly.
"The pain will stop within a minute."

"Why?"

He turned to answer. "Spread his cheeks a little wider,
Michel. Yes, like that. Because the thorn numbs the flesh before
too long."

"I mean why are you doing this to him?"

The Master smiled. "Last night Kadri lost his virginity. His
rose has bloomed, and to celebrate, a rose is made to show what's
happened. It is the mystery of our Sanctuary. All the boys but
two bear this rose, and the masters do as well. You will too when
Scorpio ends."

"What's virginity?"

The Master chuckled and continued tapping, adding more vivid
fluid when he needed. "Kadri can answer just as well. Indeed, for
him the deed was done only yesterday."

"It's when,... you love a man," Kadri muttered between gasps.
He quivered. "To prove your love,... you must join together. He
puts,...  his cock,... inside your body,... by way of your bottom
hole. " He groaned and shuddered.

"It hurts?"

"What? That or this? Trust me, this hurts worse," Kadri
sniveled. He was barely able to hold back his tears.

"But why a rose?"

The Master smiled. "I could be trite and say that it's because
he's been deflowered, Michel. That's the term to describe a
virgin's loss. However, that denotation is common place. For us
the rose has special meaning."

"What meaning, Master?"

"In time, you will learn why this is called the Sanctuary of
Roses. But for now, Michel, be content to know the rose is a
symbol of deepest love," the Master explained patiently.

"What's it feel like to be loved? What Kadri said,... when a
man does that to a boy? "

"When he puts his cock inside your body? There is no feeling
that compares to being loved that way. Boys say that it's the
Alpha and Omega and everything between. There's another petal
done," the Master stated. Lovingly, his hand rubbed the boy's
bare bottom. "It will start getting better soon now, Kadri. See
these bruises, Michel?" he said, pointing to the darkened area.
"They form a ring. This is the sign that he's been entered by a
man. The ring that's made the first time determines the size of
the rose he wears forever."

"He's crying."

"Don't worry. The worst is over for him now. The ceremony is
called 'The Mounting', by the way. Its done in the Chapel, upon
the Altar. From now until the end of Scorpio, you will spend the
days and nights getting ready for your turn. When your time is up
without a doubt, you'll be eager enough to lie on the Altar.
Master Aidan will start your training with the simple insertion
of his finger. Before too long your body opens."

"It's nearly stopped hurting," Kadri mumbled.

The Master nodded. "As I said, and not even five petals done."

"How many more?"

"There are ninety-five in all, Michel. One overlapping petal
for every boy within the Sanctuary, save one. In either case, the
anus, or the bud that enters is the final rose. There are twelve
Orders, so there are twelve petals all around."

The Master circled Kadri's anus with the stylus before he
dipped it into the shallow bowl. His fingers were whitened with
the stress of holding the stylus with unnerving accuracy.

"And as you see, there are eight continuous rings, the next is
made within the last, to form the rose."

I teetered on the brink of consciousness, aware of voices
droning on around me. For one boy this was a time of learning.
For the other boy, a chance to reflect and remember his own
lesson. The rose took shape very slowly. One petal imprinted
every minute, precisely shaped and toned. An indelible tattoo
that would be hidden, a secret known to very few. The stylus
tapped and dipped and tapped again, an endless rhythm it seemed
to me. One ring completed, and then the next, spiraling ever
inward. My fever faded and then returned with renewed vengeance.
I nearly fainted. At times, it was all that I could do to kneel
and hold Kadri's hands. Not that it made a lot of difference. By
then, that part of his body was insensate and the rings of petals
numbered six or more. And even though the petals had become
smaller, the Master continued to create such accurate depiction
of a rose in bloom that even I was hard-pressed not to sigh when
I chanced to glimpse it. When he finally completed that ninety-
fifth petal, the sign was as perfect as any rose that nature
made.

"Can I see?" Kadri asked, once the Master had carefully wiped
away the stains of crimson and spots of blood.

"You're not the first to make that request," the Master
chuckled. "I don't know of any boy who hasn't wanted to see the
end result. I always bring a mirror," he added as he searched
through the pocket of his cassock.

He positioned and angled the mirror so Kadri could see both
behind and beneath himself, that place that no person ever saw
unless they also carried the sign of man-boy love. Kadri grinned,
but did not speak. No words were needed. He studied the strange
symbol intently until the Master prompted his response

"Well?"

"It's beautiful. It's exactly how I thought it would be,"
Kadri answered without regret. He smiled happily, fascinated by
the superb detail of the rosy pattern

"Does it hurt a lot?"

"No, not really," Kadri answered. "I can barely feel it."

"It will ache before much longer," the Master stated. "But by
the morrow you'll have forgotten, Kadri. We'll put some lanolin
on it. It won't take the sting away, but it softens and keeps the
senses tender."

He paused to open a vial of amber-colored cream. He dabbed his
finger into it to remove a sticky lump. This he generously
smeared over the freshly punctured skin until the rose glistened
greasily.

"That's better. Now Kadri, you need to know that when you're
with other boys you should expect them to want to see it. This
binds you to them, it's what you share with every male who has
passed through here. When they see that your rose has bloomed,
they will want to join with you. Just go easy for the next few
days. And keep it cleansed for the chance of infection is always
there."

Kadri scrambled back onto his feet. He gingerly touched that
once-virgin place. He grinned again. He had reason to be happy.
He had a lot to look forward to. He gazed at me with such obvious
intent that it would be all that any man could do not to ravish
him on the spot. I was sure that it happen before that night was
out. Favonius boys were often like that. Once ringed, they were
ringed again and again, as if searching for the perfect mount. I
hoped that when my turn came, I would meet his expectations.

Then, it was another's turn to take his place upon the
dodecahedron. Between them, the two boys turned it to the side,
rotated like the planets. They alone made the shift from the
Scales of Libra to the Scorpion of the Order that must follow.
Thereupon, the newest boy was guided by the Master to take his
place. He sat down upon the Scorpion, his legs spread wide like a
boy astride a donkey.

"Don't be nervous, Michel," the Master said gently.

He squatted on his haunches before the boy. He extracted the
rose thorn from the stylus and inserted another that was just as
sharp. He tested it by pricking the tip of his thumb. Immediately
a tiny drop of blood appeared.

"Like Kadri, all the boys here bear the rose in bud. Even I
do. I won't lie to you and say it doesn't hurt, but you have to
trust the wisdom of the ages. All our boys would necessarily
agree that the pain is worth the end result."

Michel looked glum and didn't answer. He hung his head,
curiously dumb for a boy who it seemed to me, always had a
question lurking.

"Do you understand why the rose in bud is made, Michel?" the
Master continued in a reassuring voice. Michel barely moved his
head. The Master thought for a moment. "The most sensitive part
of the male is the part that is shielded from his sight. It hides
there, reluctant to show itself, and it gains in sensitivity as a
result."

He reached out then and gently stroked Michel's small
maleness. He used his fingers to draw the flesh out, teasing it
to gain in hardness, at the same time stretching the skin to make
it lengthen. Michel giggled at the strange sensation. It happened
quickly. His knees flexed outward. All eyes were fixed on the
diminutive erection that grew outward. It had the shape if not
the size that I expected. It was a thin but adequate stalk,
straight as an arrow and without a taper. The flesh flared
sufficiently to reveal the head, not broad like some, but
slightly pointed. While Etienne lacked the exaggerated bulge of
some boys, the stiffness was more than ample for any man.

With a gesture born of a lifetime of practice with young boys,
the Master's hand flicked swiftly. There was a little yelp as the
foreskin retracted suddenly. Etienne's foreskin always came back
easily, yet now he whimpered. There were tears building
resolutely in his eyes. He sniffed loudly, but did not look away.
His eyes, like mine were focused on the revealed part. Tiny, red,
moist, distinctly tender, that normally hidden head shone boldly
like a glow worm pulled from some dank underground.

"It hurts," the boy said plaintively.

"I'm not surprised. I want you to pull the skin back whenever
you get the chance, Michel," the Master instructed. "It's very
tight, and from the look of it, it's still adhering. I'm sure the
other boys will take great delight in regular exercise, and so
should you."

He picked up the stylus and dipped it in the crimson liquid.
He beckoned to me. "Hold his arms tightly, Master Aidan. Michel,
I want you to close your eyes and count to twelve, then twelve
times more."

As the boy began to count uncertainly, the Master tapped the
stylus down. He squealed when the thorn first went in. The next
few numbers came in a gagged voice. Another tap, another cry. He
clenched his teeth and gasped out 'five'. Then the Master began
to stipple, the stylus bouncing up and down, barely piercing the
reddened skin. Yet the sudden jerking of the tiny thorn spike was
enough for the crimson dye to permeate. The line was crisp,
precise, curved like the petal of a rosebud before it opened to
form a bloom. The stylus pattered with such rapidity that it
sounded as if it was beating like a hummingbird. Despite my
fever, I looked on in amazement, thinking I had seen it done
before. Etienne's rose had been both beautiful and brilliant,
unlike some boys who barely showed it. He flaunted that precious
part to me, brazenly erotic.

In all, there were twelve lines to be made upon that minuscule
knob, each tattooed line done with meticulous skill despite the
boy's frantic babbling. It would some time before he dared to
touch that special part, but in time he would. Then he would
discover feelings unlike any other. This was the principal secret
of the ancients. Rose to rose ensured the pleasure, but the
engraving both embellished and intensified what each one gave.

"It hurts like hell but it's really worth it. He's right when
he said you'll like it more," Kadri advised from behind me.

"Like-what-more?"

His teeth were gritted. His hands were clenched to fists.
Whenever the Master stopped to dip the stylus, he shook
fearfully.

"The feelings are a dozen times stronger," Kadri explained.
"Especially there," he added. "It makes it harder."

"Harder?"

The boy looked askew at me. He was gasping for each breath. I
was unable to do more than hold him steady. I thanked the gods
that this ritual was almost done. I groaned loudly, worrying what
would happen if I fell on the way back down. Going up was one
thing for the boys could push from behind, but going down? The
Master clucked, still tapping as the boy struggled to stop from
crying. He was nearly done as he brought the last line to the
minute slit

"He means harder within the stalk, Michel." The Master
inspected the line he had just created. "It makes it stiffer on
the end. There's another advantage that comes as well. It takes
longer to achieve the end."

"What end?"

"Why there is only one. It is the ultimate joy for any boy."
The Master smirked knowingly. He had finished and the rose was
done. I barely heard the verse he quoted.



"'Earth's roses never can possess
  The meaning we would have them share:
  They merely stain the summer air
  With promise of a fruitfulness.

'Your being, in its tender stress
  Of flowering, becomes aware
  Of the meaning it is meant to bear -
  Which is its own, if you say yes.

'Such beauty, poised upon your stem,
  Has far more reason with the rose:
  It's we who give a sense to them;

'Your flesh is its own sense pure,
  Noble, loving, joyful - sure
  To work the wonders our love proposes.'"



With that, he gripped the boy's member tightly, began rubbing
with frenzied jerks. He was so close to orgasm that it happened
instantly. He twitched and shook, and would have ejaculated
copiously had he been older. His eyes closed out the light, his
face contorted when the rapid pulses started. His gasping grunts
came and went, numbering no less than eight. His ecstasy, so
abruptly awakened, ended in a mindless whimper that slowly died
away and left his legs shaking almost as violently as mine were.

I fainted.