Date: Mon, 12 Nov 2001 15:41:14
From: Ganymede
Subject: Ring Around the Rose, Chapter 12

The Ring Around the Rose, by Ganymede


WARNING:


This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts
between men and MINOR boys. It is not true! The story is not
intended to promote illegal acts against minors. I do not
condone child abuse, however the love of boys is a different
matter. Despite the prevalent attitudes of western society,
men have loved boys throughout recorded history. It is my goal
to help readers appreciate that love can exist between men
and boys. If the subject of man/boy love offends you, if
this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you
are under the legal age for such material, do not read further!

By downloading this story:

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

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

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


THE COPYRIGHT OF OTHERS:

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


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FINAL WARNING:

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



The Ring Around the Rose, by Ganymede

Chapter 12. A Rose Blooms Upon Michel



The dawn arrived many hours before I was ready to wake up. I
was burrowed under the furs alongside Michel, dozing dreamily of
him as I always would. Such pleasant thoughts filled my head, not
fantasies but memories of the most beautiful boy I had ever seen.
I dreamed of kisses I had stolen from his pure lips, and impure
kisses shared by a mouth that was no longer chaste, for a mouth
lost its innocence once it tasted of a man's seed. Either way, I
could not kiss another boy. No matter that Michel was no longer
virgin, for to kiss Michel was to receive divine kisses. He was
equal to any boy who had been taken by the gods. Not Ganymede, or
Hyacinth, or Phaenon, or even the Mount's very own Endymion, for
whom poems had been written; could compare in my mind. Neither
could any mortal boy begin to challenge the boy who I loved, no
matter how much they had been acclaimed through history in tales
and legends. Alexander had Hephaestion, although some still say
poor Bagoas had a chance; and Hadrian surely loved his Antinous
enough to build a city for him; and I had my Michel.

I stirred and stretched along side his silky warmth. It felt
as if we had melted into one, a single being, more than sharing
flesh, achieving union. In the cocoon of heat afforded by the
heavily furred skins, Michel was moist as well as hot, so alive
that every breath he took made me quiver with delight. I intended
to take my pleasure despite his drowsy state. Some men would
never do such a thing, to take advantage of a sleeping lad, and
usually I would not do such a thing without a boy's permission,
but I could not help myself. My lust was overpowering. There were
other things much worse than what my lust demanded. Besides, I
reasoned with myself, I had often heard it said that a man proved he
was gentle if he could enter a sleeping boy. What was more, my
experience had shown that a boy was more relaxed when he was
penetrated while sound asleep. Michel would awake before I was
finished and he would not feel the pain of being entered again so
soon after his night of initiation. He would know only pleasure
when I was deep within his body. I kissed his bare flesh,
touching my tongue to tender skin, licking warmth without a taste
except the indescribable flavor of 'boy'. Was it my imagination
that Michel purred in his sleep?

He was positioned in the ideal manner, his back towards me,
curled into a protected fetal ball, but exposed in another way. I
wriggled closer, closer until my hand could barely fit between
us. There was still no indication that he was awake as I
carefully moved my hand to caress his soft firm cheek. Was is
possible that anything could be both silky soft and resilient at
the same time, except the weapon that could be found between a
young boy's thighs. Curiously, I felt before him, stretching my
fingertips as I investigated his frontal condition. I was not
surprised. Like any boy, Michel was normally erect when he awoke.
His hardness slipped easily between my fingers, responding to my
gentle fondle with a nervous twitch that indicated one part of
him was awake if not the rest. With one hand upon his little
bottom, I parted his rounded cheeks to open his crevice to my
penis. I hesitated then, not guilty, but enjoying the simple
pleasure of fondling his rear. One thing was certain. Michel had
the most beautiful bottom of any boy upon the Mount. It was not
fat like some boys, inflated like a balloon that ready to burst,
but rounded gently with pinched and muscular cheeks that were
ideal for making love.

I inhaled his scent, so sweet and clean, and with that
boyish ambrosia, other lingering odors. My own smell was amongst
them, the sweat of enduring passion, the earthy perfume that came
from sex between men and boys. Mostly, I sensed the aroma of the
sea, the 'fishy' smell that Sandor had drawn everyone's attention
to during Michel's initiation. It was a delightful smell and I
inhaled deeply to fill my lungs so that I could not forget. Even
as the odor touched my olfactory glands, I realized that Michel
would always excrete that lubricious juice for me. However, it
had a surprising effect upon me. Within an instant of a single
whiff, my penis had become incredibly hard. A stake of forged
metal. Unbendable. Inflexible. It was an aphrodisiac, not only
upon my body, but mind and soul as well. No wonder I had been
capable of mounting Michel no less than another four times during
the night! No wonder the gods acclaimed any boy who could produce
that slippery slime between their buttocks.

Desperately, I used my penis to probe along his crevice,
coating it with the residual lubricant that had remained there
throughout the night. I easily found his hole and rubbed my
engorged sex around the threshold to perfection. Immediately, I
discovered that his opening was still relaxed, but that was only
to be expected given the abuse it had sustained since it had
first dilated to accept my penis into his bowels. That first
touch was surely the most wonderful sensation of anything that I
had known. My rigid flesh sank slightly into his slippery
looseness, embraced by a hot softness that defied belief. A
single finger's joint was all. Not much, but enough. I was poised
to enter with a gentle thrust, but I intended to savor every
blessed inch. But oh, how that fabulous heat bathed my aching
member. Before I realized what had happened, my penis was halfway
inside Michel.

His hands twitched first, then his feet. It was an
instinctive nervous reaction to stimulation. He stayed asleep.
Then his anus pulsed, closing slightly before relaxing further. I
squeezed closer to him, my penis leading the way through his
exposed portal. I tried to take my time, for that would have been
the only responsible thing during what some would doubtlessly
call a reprehensible act. However, my lust knew no holding back,
no restraint, nothing but the need to copulate. So, I fucked him
once again!

I moved as gently as I could. I rocked my hips cautiously,
tenderly stroking his bare slender legs, his narrow chest, his
tender belly. And my penis pumped in that timeless way that men
have always taken boys. Back and forth, a slow rhythm that would
not stop, no more than a hand's breadth, but deep enough that
Michel's gland bore the brunt of every stroke. There was no need
to go hard or fast, but depth was essential to my pleasure.
Besides I had my share of powerful lunges into his small and
helpless body. Now was the time for gentle manners, teaching him
to love what society loathed about our kind. Men who lived upon
the Mount knew only what any sane man should know. No pleasure
could compare to that of being inside a boy.

No matter that I barely moved against him, his body seethed
around my member, clasping infrequently, but always becoming
looser. I could not remember ever feeling so happy, except
perhaps every moment since the first instant I had taken my place
within his rectum. His anus soon became spongy soft, and like the
inner muscle of his sphincter, completely incapable of holding me
back. Still, I restrained myself, content to take my pleasure in
small doses, but for as long as possible. I do not think that any
man could mount a boy as gently as I took Michel that morning.

Needless to say, eventually he awoke. Perhaps it was the
slight change in his breathing that got my attention first.
Perhaps it was the tremble in his body when he began to realize
was inside him. Or some cacophony of sensations that disturbed
his slumbering mind and incited arousal. Cautiously, I raised my
head away from where it had been against his shoulder. He
shivered, tensed and tightened his anus, then stirred.

"Master Aidan?"

"Yes, my sweet?"

"I'm glad it's you," Michel replied in a sleepy voice.

"Who else would it be to take this liberty with you?" I
whispered back. "You expected someone else?"

"No! Well maybe Sandor," Michel giggled. "He and Kadri both
promised to take me once you were done."

"Those two! Sandor might but Kadri wouldn't know what to do
even if your bum was in his face. He has doe-eyes for Sandor and
no one else I think."

"They're lovers, just like us," Michel murmured wistfully.
"I didn't know what it was like."

"What was like?" I queried, still enjoying the sensations of
Michel's sleek canal.

"To be loved this way," he answered musingly. "I knew how
much you loved because I could see it in your eyes, but I didn't
know how happy I would be to have you in me, Master Aidan."

I hugged him tighter and whispered in his ear. "Neither did
I, my darling Miel. I love you as no man has ever loved a boy.
You're not sore, are you?" I queried with concern.

After a mere few hours since lying on the Altar, it did not
matter that Michel was eight times from being virgin. It stood to
reason that he would hurt. His anus had been stretched very wide
and abraded by my shaft. It took time for a boy to become
accustomed to a man within his rectal passage.

"A bit," Michel confided. "But please don't stop. I want you
in me."

Michel was quiet for a few gentle thrusts, dreaming
absorbing the delightful sensations that I could give him with
little more than the slightest motion. By then, I was moving
slowly back and forth, not far, but far enough to make him
tremble.

"Master?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes Michel?"

"I love you."

I licked across his narrow shoulder and suckled on his neck.
I didn't bite very hard, but for a boy whose skin was as delicate
as Michel, it only took a nip to leave a mark. He wriggled and
pressed his buttocks back at me, driving my penis deeper into his
quivering warmth. My teeth closed and bit into his silky skin.
Instinctively he pushed back again. This time my penis prodded
his inner gland.

"Ohhhhh,." Michel groaned.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"Yes, No,... I don't know, You're so big it feels as if I'm
going to burst."

I licked where my teeth had been to soothe him and then
pressed my lips to kiss him.

"What I remember of the night,... Did it really happen?" he
whispered nervously.

"We're man and boy," I answered tenderly.

"We took the vows," Michel ascertained.

I stroked his cheek. "Yes we did. Are you sorry?"

"No, of course not. I wanted to be your boy more than
anything, but I never thought, I'm yours' now?"

"Yes, you are. At least as far as the promise is concerned.
Until our union is confirmed in deed, we must still be very
careful," I cautioned. "You must be very, very careful who you
tell. If the word gets out, you know what happens."

"I can tell Sandor and Kadri, can't I?" Michel asked warily.

I would have preferred that no one else know that Michel and
I had exchanged our vows, but it seemed wrong to keep the news
from his two best friends, young boys who more than likely were
lovers themselves. In fact, the thought that suddenly crossed my
mind in the middle of the night was whether they had taken vows
as well.

"Yes, I suppose so," I answered guardedly. "Only first let
me impress upon them the need for secrecy before you share our
surprise. There are some things that are best not shared until
the time is right."

"It's just so long to wait," Michel complained. "It could
take years before I'm ripe with seed."

"I know. You're barely nine and there are very few boys upon
the Mount who are fortunate to spurt by twelve. However, we must
wait, Michel. As I explained last night, the price to do
otherwise is far too high."

"I don't mind what must be done if it means that I'll have
you. I want you to remember me like this forever. I love you, of
so much."

"I'm honored, and I love you too, Michel. However, we must
be very careful."

So saying, I pumped him gently with the intention of making
his legs so weak that he would have trouble getting out of bed.
The boys called it 'bed-legged', when a boy's legs were bowed
when he first got out of bed. It was an honor among Favonius boys
to walk that way in the morning.

Michel caught on swiftly and began to rotate his hips. It
had the effect of greater movement in his boys, and accordingly
increased stimulation. He kept it up for only a very short time
before he groaned and slumped against me, shuddering with the
onset of a sudden spasm. I kissed the side of his head and
nuzzled my nose into his golden locks, inhaled the sweet scent of
boy, the earthy smell from below.

"I love you," I murmured into his delicate ear. "Don't laugh
Miel, but I love you so much it hurts inside my chest. My heart
will surely break if we were ever forced to part."

"I love you just as much," Michel sighed. "And I love doing
this as well. You feel so good inside my bum, my Master."

I grinned contentedly. It pleased me that he called me
'Master', for indeed I had mastered him in more ways than one. In
love, and in all other things, he would necessarily obey me, for
such was the tradition of boys upon the Mount when he had taken
vows. Once they had been taken the vows of honor, a boy
relinquished all his natural rights, except the right to love.

It was in the middle of the night that Michel had decided
that he should become much more than my apprentice to be trained
in the art and skills of making love. My warnings were unheeded.
He would not be happy with less than being my betrothed. The
words were whispered between us, a marriage contract of a sort,
but one that could only occur between a man and boy. He had
uttered his words willingly and without restrain, exactly as was
required of him. He understood the price. Lying close together
our lips pressed, it was enough that I heard what he said. Vows
were seldom taken loudly, but in a barely audible whisper that
communicated a boy's deepest feelings. Such was the nature of
that special bonding ceremony that there were no witnesses.
Unless we talked, or we gave reason for suspicion, no one else
would ever know about the secret bond between us. I would have
liked for Michel's friends to know, yet I feared that as soon as
Sandor or Kadri were informed, by mid-morning everyone else would
know. Of course, with the Master's mission ahead of us, we would
be long gone by then. I considered the matter with great
deliberation because so much was at stake.

"Ah hem!"

Startled, I struggled to get my head out from underneath the
furs. Michel was still completely covered, but his shape was
apparent beside me despite the thick covering. I blinked a few
times before I recognized the Master, and beside him, standing
naked were Kadri and Sandor.

"Good morning Master Aidan. You slept a little during the
night, I hope?" the Master jested.

"A little," I replied with a gratuitous wink at the boys.

"I hate to disturb you so early in the morning, but you
really do need to be underway," the Master said seriously. "I
have apprised these lads of the quest I am sending you upon. With
what they have told me about the writing on the wall, I am even
more convinced that you must move quickly. The survival of every
boy upon the Mount is at stake."

I nodded, accepting the urgency of rising but reluctant to
expose myself to them. After all, with the exchange of vows, I
belonged entirely to Michel, as he belonged to me. The Master
regarded me expectantly, clearly requiring that I shed the furs
and rise to my feet. My hesitation provoked a smile.

"There is no shame in an upright appendage when a boy as
beautiful as Michel is in your bed," he taunted. "Besides, all of
us are quite familiar with the sight of rigid flesh, are we not
boys?"

Sandor and Kadri both giggled. I chuckled with them and
threw back the furs to reveal Michel's slender body beside my
own. The Master smirked when he observed the reason for my
disinclination to rise from the bed. What he could see of my
penis was fully engorged and reddened from the abuse it had
sustained during the night. The other half was hidden by Michel.
His little buttocks were displaced where my penis penetrated
between them. A sheen of slippery lard and mucus on Michel's
cheeks and thighs gave away the rest.

"You're fucking him again?" the Master exclaimed with glee.
"By Jupiter, that boy will never sit astride a horse. How many
times has it been, Aidan. A half-dozen since you took him on the
Altar?"

"This would have been the ninth," I replied heatedly.

"He's lucky. I only got it thrice," Kadri remarked
offhandedly. "Twice on the Altar and once in his bed. I would
have liked at least one more."

"Nine times is a lot, I must say," the Master commented. He
sounded vain and even a little jealous. "It's as many times as I
have heard, perhaps one more."

"You said yourself that he was a horny little boy," I
quipped.

"Yes, I did say that, didn't I? However, this and what I've
heard about you suggests that the same could apply to you, it
seems." He smiled appreciatively. "Nine times? At least I'll have
no trouble seeing where to make his rose. However, would it be
asking too much of you to postpone this to a later time? The new
Favonius will shortly be arriving at the gate. Since I will be
replacing you while you're away, I will go down to greet him and
send young Tain on his way. He's ready to meet his man. Would it
be too much to ask if you and Michel could be ready to go into
the Tower when I return?"

With a flourish I extricated my penis from between Michel's
buttocks. Needless to say there was a loud wet 'plop' before it
slapped against his slender honey-colored thigh. Michel whimpered
softly at my sudden withdrawal, but he did not complain. Nearly
as much as I, he appreciated the importance of the ceremony that
would be performed upon him in the Tower. The Making of the Rose
was the permanent symbol of a boy's status. Like me, he would
treasure it for the rest of his life.

The Master hurried on his way, his robe swirling around his
feet. As soon as he was out of sight, Sandor and Kadri burst into
giggles.

"What's so funny?" Michel demanded.

"You are, for one thing," Kadri announced and pointed at the
bed where Michel had been lying.

There was a wet circle where Michel's bottom had been.
Against the ermine fur, there could be seen a strand of amber
mucus and what could easily be mistaken as the white of an
uncooked egg.

"I didn't think there would be so much of it," Michel said
guiltily. "I felt it coming out during the night, but I thought
it would be dry by now."

"At least it isn't shit," Sandor laughed. "There's a
Vulturnus boy I know who crapped all over the bed on his first
night. It was a terrible smell until we cleaned it up."

"I guess he didn't take the time to flush his bowels out
properly," I remarked. "Still, you shouldn't make fun of him.
Accidents can happen to any boy if he's not careful. There's no
shame to be had when there's mucus to show what's happened on the
bed."

"Is that really the juice of Ganymede?" Kadri asked
seriously.

I nodded I decided then that I would not clean it up. It
would do all of the boys good to observe that there was sometimes
fact in legends from the distant past. What better proof could be
had of the juice of Ganymede that to see, smell, or feel it for
oneself.

"Where does it come from?"

"Ah, that question if I understand it, is far more
difficult. I've heard some say that a boy's bowels produce it
only if he is blessed by the gods," I answered. "Yet I have also
heard it said that it is present within all boys. If flows only
when the boy strains hard. Tis vexing, because most boys are dry,
while very few are Michel and excrete the fluid in great
abundance."

Kadri and Sandor exchanged another knowing smile. It was one
of those looks that said everything, and nothing.

"Out with it, boys?" I challenged as I helped Michel to his
feet. "Tell me what it is that you find so amusing."

As I expected he tottered uncertainly and had to use my arm
for support. His knees were nearly as far apart as his shoulders
as he took his first unstable steps. A wet gurgle from between
his cheeks produced a dribble down the back of his thighs. He
looked at me uncomfortably. I handed Michel the robe I had worn
before I undressed to join him in the bed. Nervously he took hold
of it and with difficulty, used it to wipe between his legs.
Until the boys and I returned from the Master's quest, we would
have no use for woolen robes or the uniform tunics that boys wore
upon the Mount.

"The Master fucked Kadri," Sandor chortled.

"He fucked you too," Kadri added with a giggle.

"He's got a pitiful little thing compared to yours, Master
Aidan," Sandor said as he tried with difficulty to hold back his
laughter. "It's thick enough to split my anus, but he lacks the
length to make me happy. He planted seed in both us before he was
done."

He was clearly exaggerating for effect, but I appreciated
his compliment. It amused me to think of kadri and Sandor
carrying the Master's milk inside them. I wondered how it had
transpired that he had mounted both of them during the night.
Doubtless it had something to do with the writing on the wall.
The boys would have plenty of time to tell me of their
adventures. From their shared hilarity they had enjoyed
themselves immensely, no doubt their jocularity extending from
the change of making love together. It was a pity I could not
have them tell the story, but for the moment, we had an awful lot
to do.

I placed my arm around Michel's small bare shoulders and
guided him to walk before me. I remembered the first time that we
had bathed together. It seemed so long ago that I was weak and
frail from sickness. Both of us had changed a lot in the period
it took to change the Order. My Michel was no longer virgin and
it would not be long before he bore the Rose upon his bottom.

Bathing and ablutions was a hurried affair. Under any other
circumstances, I would have taken my time to carefully cleanse
Michel's body of the signs and smells of love. However, time was
short and I was uncertain of the next time that we would have
access to a bath. I used lye soap to remove the worst of it, ad
rinsed him carefully to make certain that all of it was gone.
Beside us, Kadri and Sandor were attentive in their bathing,
taking turns to soap and wash each other clean. I smiled when I
saw Kadri bend backwards by arching his body so that his groin
was presented to his friend. Sandor giggled and rubbed the soap
around Kadri's little genitals until they were covered in a film
of foam. Then, still giggling, he pushed the head of Kadri's
soapy penis between his fingers to retract the shield. He cleaned
underneath the foreskin with as much care as a boy could show.

By then, Michel was ready for his own parts to be cleaned.
The rule of the Mount was clear on that. The prepuce required
daily attention. A boy's penis, like his anus was to be kept
spotlessly clean, with no hint of flavor or fecal smell. It was a
pity that the same rule did not extend to men who were sometimes
less than attentive in bathing the parts that boys found
interesting. I soaped Michel thoroughly, and gently took his
slippery penis between my fingers to expose the head. The crimson
tip popped out easily, so different to the first time that the
Master had drawn back his foreskin in order to make the budded
rose. Michel quivered. That part of a boy was very tender, and
with the elaborate tattoo, its feeling was further enhanced.

I gazed upon Michel's tiny bud. What he lacked in size that
part of his anatomy more than made up for in detail. The tattoo
was nicely done in every way, the crimson whorls so carefully
formed that each seemed perfect. They finished precisely just
inside the meatus, and had a graceful curve that extended nearly
halfway around the glans before they ended. It was a work of art
equal to any that I had ever seen. I rinsed away the soap and
slipped the skin back to conceal his little gem.

By the time that I was soaped and rinsed, Kadri and Sandor
were also ready to get dried. They were fortunate in that they
would go to the Dining Hall and break their fast while Michel and
I would ascend the Tower to complete the ceremony of the Making
of the Rose. We met the Master and the new boy in the Great Hall.
After greeting the new initiate, Ronan, a Sagittarius, we
witnessed the ceremony that announced to all and sundry that
Michel would celebrate his loss of innocence and gain a rose to
show that he had bloomed. As we started towards the door the led
into the Tower, Michel watched Kadri and Sandor and all of the
other boys who had become his friends go in a different direction
to break their fast. I could see that he was envious, for his
fast had begun many hours before theirs and doubtlessly, he was
famished.

The last time that I had ascended the Tower I was so weak
that I could barely make the climb. That morning, full of
happiness and energy, I bounced along, taking two steps at a
time. At ritual required, Michel attended Ronan, and explained
much of what he had been told during his first time in the Tower.
It was not from a lack of knowledge of the Mount that precluded
Michel from informing the boy or more that would happen to him.
Instead, we proceeded at a much faster pace than when Kadri had
provided instruction to Michel. Still, he was able to cover the
basics before we reached the rough-hewn oak door that guarded the
chamber beyond.

The Master stopped before the slab of wood and fumbled in
the pocket of his robe to find the key which normally hung around
his neck.

"I took it off last night," he grumbled as he searched. "I
did not want to scratch the boys. Damn. Now, where did I put it?"

Finally, he located it within the depths of his robe and
inserted it into the lock. The door swung open. Michel had seen
the room only once, and he gaped as much as the virgin lad who
stood nervously beside him. However, this was but my fourth
visit, yet I was still silent in awe of the mystery of the place.
The stone seemed paler than I remembered, perhaps because of the
light that entered from the narrow windows for the Mount was at
that moment shrouded in a veil of mist. As required by law, I
remained beside Michel. He did an excellent job of comforting
Ronan and explained that he would go first so there was nothing
for the younger boy to be afraid of. I hoped that Michel would be
so calm at the time of his ordeal.

"What's the thing in the middle for?" Ronan whispered
nervously.

"The block of wood? It's called a dodecahedron," Michel
replied expertly. "It marks the passage of time. Each face bears
the sign of one of the orders. As you can see, the one on the top
is Scorpio. That's me. When we leave here it will be turned to
Sagittarius, that's for you."

"Oh! What's it for?" He sounded like a mouse. Even a
Favonius, he was hardly the sort of boy who should be upon the
Mount.

Before Michel could answer, the Master called out to me to
bring the boys into the room and remove their clothes. After
closing and locking the door behind me, I guided the boys across
the room and close to where the Master was preparing to grind the
petals of a rose. Michel gazed at me boldly, so very unlike the
boy a month earlier who was shy and awkward. It seemed that no
sooner than I had dressed Michel, I was taking off his robe
again. I unfastened his red satin sash. As it came away from his
slender body and his robe opened at the front, Michel beamed. I
stared at his nakedness, revealed, reveling in his boy's
perfection. I would never tire of seeing his honey-colored flesh,
his compact groin still the color of almonds.

"Yes, he's beautiful, Master Aidan," the Master commented
dryly, "but I am afraid that we have to hurry. You must be gone
before the Order changes. That is preordained. To remain longer,
would contravene the Oracle. 'He who bears the fresh-made rose,
must leave the Mount before the next bud is seen'," he quoted.
"You'd best undress the other lad."

Ronan was not an unattractive boy, although his ears stuck
out too far for my preference. I unfastened the white virgin's
sash around his waist and peeled back the garment. His body was
like many boys when they first came to the Mount. He was slender
like Michel, but lacked the muscular development beneath his pale
translucent skin. Until he strengthened from the rigorous
exercise the boys underwent each day, he would likely be called a
'runt'. But more than being skinny, his veins were close to the
surface so that he appeared delicate and prone to injury, if not
in fact.

"He's cute," Michel appraised.

Certainly, he was not beautiful in the way that Michel held
a man's gaze transfixed. His body was mesmerizing. Yet, while
Ronan lacked Michel's spell-binding beauty, his genitals were
noticeably larger. His penis was nearly half-as-long again and
would have complimented a boy who was several years older. On his
skinny body it seemed out of place, although it would certainly
make him desirable to many men. What he had in excess, was
however, denied. His penis was limp, completely useless as an
indicator of his urge to lie with men. It dangled down, its
length further extended by a puckered tube of skin. Ronan looked
nervously at Michel, whose penis was fully hard and sticking
outward.

Michel, like Kadri before him, shamelessly grasped his penis
and with a flick of his wrist, pulled the skin back to reveal the
tattooed head. So often had I seen that delicate crimson bud,
that I should not have been engrossed, but I was. He was
flawless, a boy made perfect by then careful hand of man in a way
that nature could not decorate. He showed his symbol to Ronan
before he swiftly concealed it once again.

"We'd best begin," the Master said.

"Then let them stroke the dragon," I remarked.

The Master smiled. "The last time you were here, you were
too sick to offer up your seed, Master Aidan. After last night, I
had hoped that you would be able to join with me to fill the
bowl. However, I fear that after eight ejaculations, there will
be little that you can add to make the liquid."

I laughed. "I fear you are right. It's all inside Michel. Or
rather, it was before I cleaned him out. I might be able to
manage a few drops, but not much more than that."

"Tis a pity," the Master agreed, "that we're both emptied."

He stared at the mortar and pestle in his hand, absently
scraping the dust of the rose petals in the bottom,

"It seems that there is no choice. I'm sure Michel knows
what to do to get whatever is left in you. He's certainly had
enough practice to get blood out of a stone. If he strokes you,
then I will train Ronan how to work my shaft."

"But there are not rules to follow," I queried. "A procedure
that defines exactly what must be done?"

"We need only sit upon the camphor wood when the seed is
spent. There is nothing to require that both boys do one of us at
a time. I did that last time only because you were so exhausted."

I disrobed, aware that Michel was staring at me as if he had
never seen me naked before. His eyes were hungry, full of the
insatiable lust that boys tend to have once they've been mounted.
By contrast, Ronan was very shy. He certainly risked a sideways
glance at the Master and me. Perhaps it was our hairlessness that
disturbed him, for he quickly look away. Between the two of us
the only hair we had was the hair upon our heads, and even the
Master's head was tonsured and nearly bald. I noticed that Michel
also made a comparison on his own. He examined the Master's naked
body with renewed interest, an interesting change from the first
time now that he knew what a man looked like. The Master's sex
was considerably shorter than my own, but much thicker. It had
the appearance of a wedge, topped by a small acorn-shaped head
that while making for a relatively painless entry, still seemed
blunt to me. It was the width that was most disconcerting. To
pass entirely through a boy's much smaller portal, he would have
to push very hard indeed. It was a formidable weapon to an
inexperienced boy, but to Michel it lacked the dimension that he
most desired. He quickly averted his gaze to focus upon my
instrument of pleasure. Oh, the changes that came with
experience.

Michel grasped my shaft with a practiced hand. I had trained
him thoroughly in how to rub, although he usually availed himself
of lard to make it slippery. A little lubrication enabled him to
rub quite fast while keeping up a substantial pressure. His thumb
was employed to great advantage, applying my glistening secretion
first to the head, then to the tender foreskin. There was still
very little to ease the motion of his hand along my shaft. He
looked up am me and smirked, then promptly lowered his head to
kiss.

Little Ronan was dumbfounded, as if confronted by a real
dragon rather than a man's organ. While engorged and red, it was
hardly something to be afraid of. He touched it gingerly, not
confidently like Michel, using the tips of his fingers to brush
along the skin. He wrinkled his nose as he caught the first scent
of a man. Michel, on the other hand, had engulfed my penis
halfway down his throat. Nervously, and after a lot of coaxing,
Ronan managed to retract the Master's foreskin. He was startled
to find the rosebud beneath. I felt sorry for him. He was
Favonius, of course, but one of those very timid boys for whom
sex was disconcerting while essential to his life.

I remembered that Michel had also been a little reluctant to
take the Master's penis into his mouth, and that despite having
Kadri next to him and offering encouragement. However, he had
been very agreeable to masturbating the man, and used his hand
quite well for a boy who had yet to wear the rose. His hand
fluttered upon me, making the sound that reminded me of a bird's
wings, from slow and powerful like an eagle to the rapid, almost
silent beating of tiny hummingbird. He varied his technique the
way I preferred it, bringing my penis to the apogee of erection
very quickly with the use of both his hand and tongue.

Masturbation was a skill that boys were required to learn as
soon as they came to the Mount, but once learned, they were not
supposed to practice more than once per day. Masturbation, even
done in pairs, provided relief, but denied the body the true
satisfaction that only came by joining a man and boy together.
Almost straightaway, Michel had graduated from manual stimulation
to higher forms of love. Yet, he retained his skill and used it
to great advantage on the cold winter's morning in the tower.
Very rapidly, he brought me to the edge and I hastily took my
position on the dodecahedron.

He huffed and puffed, pretending that the effort required to
bring me off was much more that it really was. All the time he
grinned wantonly as he demonstrated what he had learned, and made
obscene comments that I was harder than steel, as big as a horse,
and slower than a mule. Poor Ronan had his hands full with the
Master's penis, although it was far less onerous a task that had
he required to perform the task on mine. Fortunately, Michel's
running commentary on my state had the effect of cheering up his
mood. I suspected that he was one of those boys whose parents had
brought him to the Mount against his will. I sympathized with
him, for no boys likes to be discarded by the people who are
supposed to love him. I hoped that he was resilient, like Michel,
who quickly adapted and began to relish living with men and boys
not unlike himself.

Ronan had barely attained the will to place his lips upon
the Master's penis that orgasm was upon me. Quickly I grabbed the
bowl and brought it to my penis.

"Remember Michel, it's not to go in you this time," the
Master chided with a laugh. "Collect all that you can in the
bowl. You've seen Kadri do it once before. We'll need every drop
to make your rose."

Michel nodded and still rubbing frantically, with both hands
along the full length of my shaft, brought the tip closer to the
bowl as he felt the rising seed beneath his pliant fingers. I
groaned, as any man would groan given such wonderful sensations.
I soared, parted my legs wide, and closed my eyes when I felt the
spurts begin. There were only four. It was not much, however
considering that only a few brief hours had passed since my last
ejaculation, it was a joy to see that much.

Michel grinned happily. After the last of my semen dribbled
out, he gave the head of my penis a delicious kiss, bringing his
sweet wet lips to completely enclose the bulb while his little
fingers rubbed my aching testicles. From where he knelt before
me, between my outstretched legs, he gazed up at me, shamelessly
proud of what he had done. His technique could be improved, but
for his age, he was surely among the best.

"Good work, Miel," I sighed. "A job well done."

Ronan labored just a few paces away. His face was set with
grim determination. I wondered what was going through his head.
Only a day or two earlier, he had been at home, perhaps lying in
his bed. More than likely, what he knew of sex could be inscribed
upon a pin. Had he ever seen a naked man? Michel had not, not
even his father, yet the urge was still inside him. He held the
Master's penis awkwardly, uncertain of what he needed to do. For
some boys, the ability came naturally. It was after all, no
different to their own except in size. Had Michel masturbated
before he came to the Mount? I made a mental note to ask him
later on.

"Michel," I began. I gestured to the boy beside us. "Perhaps
you had better aid him or we'll be here all day."

He looked anxious, even unenthusiastic. This was not the
time for reluctance on his part despite his vows to me. No doubt
he was loath to touch another man's penis now that I had claimed
him for my own. However, our secret vows could not be revealed.
Obediently, Michel rose and went to kneel beside the other boy.
The Master's legs spread further apart to make way for both of
them to pay homage to his male part.

"I've always believed it took two boys to stroke the dragon
properly," he laughed. "Get your hand around my cock, Michel, and
show this lad what must be done to get me off."

Michel reached out tentatively. His fingers caressed the
thick throbbing shaft so lightly that the Master shivered. His
fingertips glided across the bulbous crimson head, expertly
tantalizing the slimy bud. His eyes flickered at me with
amusement. I glared back at him, silently daring him to use his
tongue. His head barely moved in denial. He would not do that.
His tongue belonged to me. Instead, he caressed the man's blunt
organ casually as his other hand reached below. He kneaded the
Master's testicles, feeling their ponderous weight dragging the
skin down low.

"Watch how he does it, Ronan," the Master commented. "You
have to relax and do what comes naturally to a boy. A man's
organ, like a boy's is very tender and the trick is to arouse the
most sensitive parts of all."

Michel nodded and brought his fingers slowly along the
Master's penis until they held the head and nothing more. There,
his thumb circled the open slit to spread the excretion, before
his fingers began to gently massage. The Master sighed softly. He
rested his hand on Michel's bare shoulder, showing he was
pleased.

"Masturbation is not only about rubbing up and down," he
said to Ronan. "It is entirely possible to cause a man to climax
simply by fondling the tip. Isn't that correct, Master Aidan?"

"Yes," I answered with a grin. "Or even by lightly touching,
if it's done with a trained hand. Where Michel is touching is the
most sensitive place of all. It's even better with his tongue," I
teased.

Michel made a sour face to indicate that he had no desire to
perform that arcane ritual with any other man but me. Instead he
took a different approach.

"Try it, Ronan. Just touch it with your tongue," Michel
suggested. "Most boys think the taste is nice. You'll like it
just as much as me, I bet. See how the juice oozes from the slit.
That juice is nectar to boys like us. Lick it off and I know
you'll want more!"

Michel's voice was so sincere that Ronan needed no further
enticing. While Michel held the Master's penis and fondled
beneath it, the boy of Sagittarius uncertainly brought his mouth
towards the offering. It was a tentative lick at first, but most
boys are that way the first time that they suck. He extended his
tongue no more than a finger's width and barely brushed the tip
until he pulled back. He made a wry face.

"It's salty."

"Of course it's salty," Michel giggled. "We are living near
the sea. Sandor told me that if we were living in the mountains
it would taste of pine instead, and in the country, he said it
has the taste and smell of hay."

The Master and I exchanged looks of surprise. It was all
that we could do not to burst out laughing. I made another mental
note to talk to Michel and Sandor after our departure. One of the
most important rules was that boys should be properly informed
about matters of the body, both man and boy. However, the
youngest of the boys often had a difficult time determining fact
from fiction when they wanted to believe.

"Oh," Ronan nodded. "It's not so bad," he added as his
little pink tongue came across his full red lips again. "Can I
have some more?"

Michel smirked and levered the Master's penis down so that
it was more accessible to the boy who crouched between his legs.
This time, Ronan had no compunction about licking the drooling
end. Indeed, he lingered, savoring the taste.

"Now kiss it," Michel urged. "Men like that, and so will
you."

"Kiss it?"

"Yes! Just bring your lips together and press against it.
That's right, like that," he encouraged as the other boy's lips
puckered. "The taste is even stronger when you kiss it."

"I didn't taste anything," Ronan complained after he had
planted a delicate kiss. His reluctance could only be interpreted
as 'first-time shy'.

Michel shrugged. "That's because you didn't put it in your
mouth."

"But you said kiss it and that's exactly what I did."

Michel giggled, still stroking the Master's throbbing penis.
The boy's talk was clearly as stimulating to the Master as it was
to me. Michel's other hand was apparently also having a desirable
effect for the man's free-swinging scrotum had transformed into a
wrinkled, rounded knot.

"Don't you know how to kiss properly? You mean you've never
kissed a man?" Michel asked curiously.

Had the innocent boy of Scorpio forgotten his own
inexperience so quickly? Had Michel transformed from ingenuous
virgin to lust-filled boy overnight? Ronan shook his head to
confirm he was still innocent.

"So smooch it," Michel directed. "Put the end inside you
mouth so you can suck and kiss around the head."

As little Ronan timidly brought his mouth to cover the
Master's proffered part, the organ swelled. The veins darkened.
The head expanded. The slit widened. Michel saw it too. He pushed
Ronan 's head away and swiftly reached to find the bowl.

"Hold it right there and don't move it," he said urgently.
"We're not supposed to spill any on the floor."

"My arm is tired," Ronan complained.

"Don't worry. When a man's penis get like this, it won't
take long to get him off."

Michel gave the Master's only two or three more stroked
before the first seed came out. There was but one small milky
spurt followed by a pulsing dribble of receding size until there
was nothing left to give. He had produced about the same amount
as I had, a testament to the effect of age for I had been drained
throughout the night.

"Well done boys," the Master complimented. "That was as good
as any that I've had." He turned to me. "You've taught him well.
Too many young boys make the mistake of thinking that only
rubbing is required."

"Every man is different," I responded. "I've known some who
prefer the movement of the skin without lard, and others who
prefer scratching on the tip. I've trained Michel to vary his
technique until he finds the way that works best. He can be very
creative in his manipulations of my penis," I added proudly.

"That is as it should be. A Sanctuary boy should be both
audacious and resourceful with his sex."

He stood and straightened his robe, covering his gradually
shrinking penis. He carried the bowl over to the filtered light
from the window. The pestle clanked as he began to stir, then
faded as the liquid and powered rose were mixed together.

"It's time I put a rose in bloom upon our little Scorpio,"
the Master indicated with a smile at the boy I loved. Clearly he
enjoyed the ritual. "Come Michel. Let's complete what Master
Aidan started on the Altar. Take your place by lying face down on
the Scorpion. From what I glimpsed this morning, your rose will
take some effort."

The last time I had been barely conscious when Kadri's rose
was made so my contribution was nothing more than watch,
providing witness to the boy's passage and the changing of the
Order. I rose and drew Michel up to his feet. I was humbled to
stand as Michel's teacher, but as his lover as well. I would know
such pride but once in my lifetime.

"Take your position above the scorpion," I directed to
Michel. "Face down, with your legs towards the light."

He knelt and leaned across the dodecahedron, positioning his
penis directly above the inscribed scorpion, the symbol of his
Order. It's strength would help him bear the pain that would
shortly follow. I took up my position at Michel's head, holding
his slim brown arms forward as much to restrict his movement as
provide support. My thumbs stroked his armpits to calm him. He
dared to look behind him. He winced when he saw the Master
preparing the stylus. The rose thorn was very long and pointed
like a pin. He walked across the room and knelt at Michel's feet.

"What are you going to do to him?" Ronan asked nervously as
he watched the Master make the stylus jerk up and down,
practicing the technique needed to make the tattoo accurately.

"Don't be frightened. Michel isn't scared of what happens
next. He's seen this done before. Indeed the bud he showed you on
his cock was done only a month ago this very way. It doesn't hurt
as much as you might think, Ronan."

Okay."

"I want you to watch carefully," the Master said soothingly.
"What I am about to do is to mark Michel for all to see with the
symbol of our kind. Last night, Michel was initiated into the
Sanctuary of Roses. In time, so to will you lose your virginity,
a not unpleasant loss for any boy, but one essential for a boy
who chooses to live upon the Mount. For now, all that is
necessary is for you to know that once a boy has a ring around
his rose, the rose is made upon his bottom to show what happened
to him."

Ronan was visibly confused. However, he watched earnestly as
the Master placed his hands on Michel's buttocks and spread them
apart. The boy gaped, for Michel's opening gaped back at him,
moist and reddened as it should. I grimaced, for the bruising had
darkened even more from when we had performed our ablutions. It
appeared quite painful, and Michel winced when the cool air
touched it.

"Ah!" the Master observed dispassionately. "A good dark ring
to be sure," he added as his finger traced the purple-brown
circumference around the open hole. "I've never seen a larger
one. You're not so thick that he couldn't take your width, Master
Aidan. You must have fucked him hard?"

I felt a twinge of guilt for the ring that decorated
Michel's rose was entirely my responsibility. Not there was any
shame involved for either of us, for high value was placed upon
both size and hue by every man and boy. Michel had given me his
special treasure and I had rewarded him in turn. However, upon
reflection my penis must have hurt him, albeit the juice of
Ganymede.

"I did," I answered glumly.

"Why such a long face? Every time you gaze upon his rose,
you'll know the effort was worthwhile."

"Perhaps," I ventured.

"Perhaps indeed," the Master chuckled. "Your reputation
among the boys is clearly well-deserved. I'm glad we have a
master of Favonius who is capable of loving our boys as nature
had in mind with the inner gland. It is there for a purpose that
most men fail to understand. Nonetheless, I'm sure that Ronan
will be grateful that another man will relieve him of his
virginity. His tight boy-hole would be open for a week if he goes
to the Altar with you."

Michel turned back and smirked. "Is it really that big?" he
asked.

The Master nodded with amusement. "Your rose will show even
when your cheeks are closed, Michel."

"It will?" Michel giggled. "I've not seen any other rose
like that."

"Indeed you haven't. Now, my boy, let's begin. You know what
happens from watching young Kadri. I'm sure I don't need to tell
you that it will hurt for a while until the flesh numbs. I want
you to take a deep breath and hold it until I tell you to let
go."

Michel breathed out and inhaled nervously. Almost instantly,
the stylus tapped. He flinched. The Master's hand jerked with
ease, almost unaware of the cringing naked boy before him. Poor
Michel. The other boys had filled his head with tales. Regaled
with stories of fact and fiction, he knew better than to cry. His
ordeal lasted longer than Kadri's for the outside of the rose
extended well beyond the hole.

Bravely, Michel gritted his teeth, holding back his tears.
The stylus tapped relentlessly and Michel sniveled as the pain
grew worse.

"It won't take much longer," the Master said consolingly. He
stopped. "Now, breath out!"

"A-a-a-h-h-h-o-o-h-h," Michel whimpered. His face met mine.
His eyes were watering, but that was all.

Again he took another deep breath. This time his small hands
clenched my shoulders. I tightened my grip upon his arms.

"Ronan, I want you to help by keeping Michel's cheeks spread
well apart. Put your hands on either side and open him up so that
I can see what I am doing. Yes, like that is fine."

"His hole is so big," Ronan observed in awe. "It looks very
sore."

"Yes it does," the Master agreed. He dipped the stylus into
the crimson ink and commenced stippling with rapid jerks. "I have
no doubt it hurts, but unless I'm wrong the ache comes from
emptiness. 'Once filled, a boy's need is never stilled'," he
cited. "Master Aidan, would you be so good as to explain to Ronan
the philosophy of the Making of the Rose."

So called upon, I commenced an unplanned, but lengthy
explanation of the important Sanctuary rituals of the Rose in
Bloom. I began with the notion of virginity, of a boy untouched
by man. He represented incomplete perfection, for without love he
would exist alone. Life began, I said, only when man joined with
boy, smiling when I described in generous detail that union I had
celebrated with Michel. Then turning to Ronan, I told him that
when his turn came to be mounted it would be the most important
thing he ever did.

Michel was listening as well and his eyes met mine, so full
of love that I was momentarily lost for words. In the course of
single winter's night, he had achieved both absolute perfection
and ultimate pleasure. By then, the first petal had been
completed and the Master had outlined the second. Because the
ring was so large, he was able to add greater detail than was
normally the case. The addition of a slight amount of spittle
diluted the dye and enabled him to vary the hue from dark to
light within each petal. The effect was stunning, and it would be
certain to cause discontent among those boys whose roses were
smaller and lacking such features of their own. However,
intuitively I understood the Master's reason. Michel was special
and his Rose had to be his equal. No other boy would have one
like it for Michel had no peers among them.

And so the process continued. Time passed. Michel's small
bottom, already much abused by me, became insensate once again.
His hands relaxed and lost their tension, his eyes closed in mute
acceptance of the discomfort in his crack. One petal followed the
other until a complete spiral of twelve perfect petals had been
made. I would like to have seen the end result, yet I held my
tongue. The last thing that I wanted was to disturb the Master's
concentration. Gradually, the petals became smaller, although the
change in size was barely noticeable until one compared the outer
circle against the one within.

"My wrist is getting tired," the Master admitted. "I need to
practice the motion. By far, the best way is by masturbating, but
it's so difficult to find the time with all these hot-blooded
Favonius boys anxious to be mounted. All they ever seem to want
is a cock between their legs. Even the Vulturnus prefer to suck
or turn about than have my hand upon their cocks."

"You're doing very nicely," I said as I admired the
brilliantly colored tattoo that was slowly appearing on Michel's
small rump. "The outer petals are truly beautiful."

"It will fade somewhat with time, of course," the Master
answered. "But it will always be something wondrous to behold."

He dipped the stylus and continued, gently tapping to
complete another faultless petal. I smiled at Michel and lovingly
nodded, not thinking at the time of anything but communicating my
love for him. Michel smiled shyly, his eyes reflecting mine. What
poet has not described the soul that could be seen inside a young
boy's eyes when he is in love. That cerulean blue was of such
pure intensity that I was spellbound, imprisoned and content to
stay there forever.

As it was, my stomach growled long before the work was
finished. No doubt, Michel was just as hungry, or even more so
since the boys had flushed his bowels prior to being mounted.
Initiation made a boy very hungry in both his belly and behind.
Even after many years of doing the tattoo, it was a miracle how
the Master managed to control his hand. Other than an occasional
complaint that his wrist was sore, he carried on undaunted,
demonstrating prowess and dexterity that left no question of his
expertise.

Each spiral of petals seemed to take forever, but because
the rings grew smaller, in fact the end was fast approaching as
Michel showed signs of boredom. He wriggled and rearranged
himself upon the wood. He felt the pricking of the thorn like a
pin perforating the tender skin around his hole, yet his
discomfort came more from his position and not being able to see
what was being done than from what the Master did. I was in awe.
Michel's rose had bloomed. He would be the envy of every boy.

"There! I'm finally done!" the Master exclaimed with relief.
"All ninety-five of them. This is the largest I've ever done.
It's something to be proud of, Michel."

It was as large as any rose that I had seen, either on a boy
or growing on a bush. Indeed, in careful shades of crimson, the
Master had created a magnificent tattoo that peeked from between
Michel's buttocks and hinted of what was hidden. Ronan moved back
and ruefully rubbed his tired hands. He inclined his head and
studied the decoration with appreciation.

"It's beautiful," he murmured.

Michel's head lifted up. He had been very patient, but how
he'd had enough. "I want to see," he demanded.

The Master smiled at me as he wiped away the myriad tiny
spots of blood and excess dye.

"They're all the same. I've not done a single boy who
doesn't immediately want the mirror to examine my handiwork."

Unlike the last time, he quickly produced a hand mirror and
held it at an angle so that Michel could see behind him when he
looked across his shoulder.

"Oh my!" he uttered, and then a single word. "Magnificent,"
to describe the exquisite work.

Unlike Kadri, whose rose could not been seen unless his
cheeks were parted, Michel's decoration was visible from where he
lay.

"Does it hurt a lot?" I asked.

Michel shrugged. "It feels strange, Master Aidan. It doesn't
hurt like I thought it would."

His fingers carefully touched where the color changed from
honey to crimson-red. He winced slightly, but his fingers stayed
in place and caressed the thorn-pricked skin. No doubt the
coldness of his fingers helped alleviate the heated ache.

"It will hurt shortly, nonetheless," the Master commented.
"Now, where did I put that lanolin. It's the best salve I know of
for a tender bum."

He applied a generous coating to Michel's rump, taking his
time to make sure that it was well rubbed in around the boy's
dilated anus. It was greasy, but not like lard for it had a
consistency that was much thicker and very sticky so it clumped.

"He'll be sore for a few days," the Master said to me. "But
no worse from me than what you did. Though I dare say you had
more fun. I'll save the lecture I would normally give to him
about the increased interest of other men and boys."

I swallowed, and in my surprise I allowed my true feelings
for Michel to show. There was love in my eyes, when other men
would have lust. The Master nodded understandingly. He thought
before he spoke.

"I know, Aidan. You need not lie to me. The Oracle has been
right about everything else so why would it be wrong about your
vows. Besides, I can see it in your eyes."

"Master,..." I began awkwardly.

"Speaking for myself, I cannot blame you. Michel is both as
charming and as beautiful a boy who ever graced this lonely rock.
It's not surprising that other masters refer to him as the
epitome of boy-perfection, Master Devon having the sole opinion
to the contrary. However, the rule is clear and you know it
well."

"I couldn't help it,.... It's not his fault. He should not
be held responsible for my impetuosity."

The Master regarded me with quizzical eyes before he turned
to face Michel. "Do you understand the meaning of the vows you've
taken, Michel?"

Michel nodded bravely. "I want Master Aidan and no one other
in my bum. I love him and he loves me back. We took our vows to
give substance to what we felt."

"Were it so easy! It would be different if you were closer
to pubescence. With luck and help from me, the sacrifice could be
forestalled until your seed flowed, and then it wouldn't happen.
But Michel, you're barely nine!" the Master said with some
distress. "There is no boy who I know of who has shown even the
faintest trace of seed at your age. What is more, the rule cannot
be put aside for more than the period of one Order."

Michel nodded again. "I know that too, Master. I am willing
to pay the price."

"You know the rule for men and boys who wish to have each
other?"

"We must share a pair," Michel replied fearlessly. "I will
do whatever I must to stay his lover."

"And you're willing to lose an egg to make that him
yours,... knowing what will happen?" the Master queried.

Michel shrugged courageously. "I will sacrifice both of
them, to have him as my lover. Besides, I will have no need for
them because Master Aidan loves me."

"Michel!" I interjected. "The sacrifice is not yours alone
to make. The rule says only that we must share a pair. We will
prove our love together, or not at all."

"No matter, Master Aidan. Do not fear for him quite yet."
The Master sighed. "When your task is over we will talk again.
You'll return before Sagittarius ends. There is a lot more in the
Oracle than what I've told you."

"Master, The fact is that I love him," I continued unabated.
"There is nothing I would not do to keep him as my own."

"Of course you love him. What man would not? You're only
human, and Michel is quite extraordinary." He paused. "Be
careful, Aidan. Beyond these sacred walls, there are many men who
would take him from you if the chance arises. Keep him close to
you. And always love him like there is no tomorrow."

"There is no other way for me," I said. "I will love Michel
as long as there is breath within my body."

The Master smiled. "For both you and Michel, I am certain
that is true. For the time you're gone, your vows will be a
secret among us. I will caution Ronan not to speak about it. Now,
let us change the Order."

"You said that we must leave before the Order changes to
Sagittarius?" I asked. "How can that be so? The rules requires
that both boys must rotate the dodecahedron for the Order to
continue. There is no way."

"Ha! I've thought of that and what you say is true. You
cannot find a way?" he taunted. "The man who would teach our boys
of strategy?"

"I can," Michel grinned. "It must be done in stages," he
said allusively.

I was impressed for Michel had answered correctly. I nodded
in open admiration. His brain was just a fraction faster.

"Michel will move the face of Scorpio to the edge and Ronan
must hold it there until we're gone," I answered. "That will meet
the requirements of both Oracle and rule."

The Master nodded with visible appreciation of Michel's
intellect.

"I said he was extraordinary? I should have said unique.
Such intelligence is without a match," he acknowledged.

It was all that Michel could do to turn the dodecahedron so
that the face of Scorpio was not on top. He puffed and panted,
and had to rock the wooden mass until he managed to get it moved
an inch. Then, he pushed and strained with all his might until it
was balanced on an edge. Carefully, Ronan slid into place. All he
had to do was keep it from falling, either back or forward, until
we were gone. The images of both scorpion and archer teetered,
neither one giving or gaining way.

"Good!" the Master said as we hurried to the door. "Go first
to the armory. Take your choice of armor for you and the three
boys. Sandor and Kadri will be waiting there. Then hurry to the
postern gate. You must cross the sands while the tide is ebbed."

"Not across the causeway?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Don't ask, Aidan. There isn't time. Go
quickly now!"

"Shouldn't Michel get dressed?"

"There isn't time for that either. You must be gone before
Ronan wavers and the Order necessarily changes. Adieu, Aidan.
Take care to love Michel in every way. It will make you
stronger," he called out as we began a swift descent down the
stairs.