By Jotto (Illustrated by Jotto)
On the Southern coast of Spain, high on a cliff perched over an isolated beach known to only the most adventurous hikers, sits a monastery that is almost as old as the rocks that it is made of. And within these ancient walls is an order of monks whose name is even a secret kept from most of its own flock. Away from the influences of modern society and all of its trappings, their beliefs have become divested from the original faith that built those once hallowed halls. It is their belief that they can indulge in the sins and temptations of man as long as they purge that filth from their souls on the special occasion of a blue moon. Approximately every three to four years, when a month has two full moons, the second of those full moons is called a blue moon. And when that happens, these monks find an unsuspecting living subject to become the recipient of their sins, a vessel that will be sacrificed, casting all their impurities to the depths of hell. And on a day not to long ago, one unfortunate young sun worshipper was caught in the dark afterglow of a blue moon.
The young Spaniard, Arsenio, spent most of his youth on the southern shores of his homeland, frolicking from one beach to the next, basking in the sun and bathing in the waters of the Mediterranean. The most he wore during the day, if anything at all, was a shear swatch of white that was his Y back thong, from the Skinz 2007 catalog, model number M31U-7410, $28.00, Coppertone SPF 4 Sunscreen lotion with aloe and vitamin E to protect his silk-like skin, $8.99. Being envied and desired by all that see him… priceless. His thong was made with a “White Power Net” mesh nylon/lycra that came with the warning…
“Unlined, semi-see-thru dry, see-thru when wet.”
Arsenio’s thong glared brightly against his suntanned tight flesh as it struggled to contain is abundant manhood. The sling of transparent white Lycra usually lost out when clawed off by any man who wanted to fully worship his statuesque physique. He did not discriminate by age, race or appearance; all were welcome. It was not vanity, but joy and appreciation of his stunning beauty that motivated him to be a plaything to be enjoyed by all. But, on one faithful day, he chose to bake in the sun just beyond the shadow of the cliff dwelling monastery filled with evil hearts. The brilliant glare of his thong reflected brightly in dark eyes that focused sharply on him from high above. Even without the telescope they used to study him, the monks could see through the fabric that his thong was completely filled with the promise of a bountiful endowment. Arsenio spent little time in the sun before six of the unholy monks strolled down their private path to the beach. The boy noted to himself the odd sight of six monks on a beach but still chose to send a welcoming glance to the hooded and robed figures headed his way. His experimental curiosity was peeked, causing the contents of his thong to swell with anticipation. Little did he know that these monks had long ago abandoned the original mission that brought them together.
The six monks surrounded Arsenio where he laid in the hot sand. The boy teased, playing with the string that made up most of his attire, sliding a finger between it and the skin of his supple hips. The six monks, three on each side of the bathing beauty, kneeled down and started caressing his body. Arsenio immediately surrendered to the avalanche of hands that swept over him. Then, the ten thick inches of his perfectly rigid phallus flipped up and slapped his abs. It wasn’t until that moment he realized his thong had been slid down his swaying muscular legs and discarded to the sands beyond his reach. But he did not care as incessant waves of hands and fingers explored every inch of his body. It was also at that moment the aberrant monks realized he would be the perfect vessel to pump their sins into.
The wave-like motion of strong yet gentle hands levitated the nubile youth upward. Dizzy with ecstasy, he did not notice at first his body being lifted into the air above the monk’s heads. Hands brushed off grains of sand that speckled the young flesh that tightly covered the well-rounded mounds of the boy’s ass. Fingers tingled all points of the backside of his torso, legs and arms as he was offered to the sun, ninety-three million miles away. As the first drops of his boy-juices seeped from the maw of his throbbing member, the procession of men turned and started up the perilous path that lead to the monastery above. Unwilling to suspend that moment in time, Arsenio hoped that his thong and other belongings would be there when he returned for them. This was to be a promise he would not be able to keep to himself.
As the procession of men reached the top of the cliff, Arsenio reached the limits of his ability to restrain his orgasm and thoroughly showered himself and the men beneath him in a cascade of sperm, and all was achieved without the monks laying a single finger on his cock. His young body flexed and contorted violently almost causing the monks to drop him. The monks lowered Arsenio just low enough to where they could lick him clean. As Arsenio’s climax faded, the boy came to rest in the nest of arms as the men resumed their march and carried the overwhelmed lad into the dark confines of the monastery, the warmth of the sun ebbed from his body giving way to a gloomy chill. His eyes took to long to adjust to the darkness and could not see the shackles hanging from the ceiling. Arsenio thought he was about to take a final bow when the monks set him upright of his feet and raised his arms into the air. Then suddenly, there was the sound of clanging chains above his head followed by the unforgiving embrace of old leather around his wrists. The monks moved away from Arsenio as he taxed his brawn testing the quality of the shackles that held him. Though Arsenio was riddled with anxiety, his libido was very young, tenacious, and worst of all, naive. He found the situation it rather stimulating as his manhood inflated again.
The room quickly filled up as all sixty-six of the order filed into the room. As Arsenio’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see the monks start to disrobe. He realized that things were about to get a bit more serious and he struggled more vigorously against the shackles. One of the larger monks walked over to a large floor-mounted spool where the other end of the chain was anchored. The man started to crank the wheel attached to it as a large iron ratchet clanked away. The chain above Arsenio inched towards the ceiling and the shackles became tighter around his wrists. Seconds later, his apprehension grew as his arms straighten upward, the muscles of his biceps strained harder and harder. His arms were pulled taught, lifting his shoulders until they touched the back of his jaw. Arsenio felt his torso flatten out as his legs danced around trying to keep his feet on the floor. And when the soles of his feet started to skim across the hard blocks of the stone floor, the chain stopped its ascent.
Two of the men approached Arsenio with a kettle of warm oil, scooped it out with their hands and began to coat his young body from head to toe. As fingers guided the warm oil into every crease, crack and crevice of his body, Arsenio’s libido found its voice and the ten inches of his fifth appendage stood up proudly again. Mixed into the oil was a blend of herbs know to the monks as aphrodisiacs and hallucinogens. Not that Arsenio needed any help in that department; the aroma fuming out of the oil did its part to ensure the boy remained in the mood and very disoriented. The young boy’s breath became heavy and irregular; his heart raced in his chest and its pulse was reflected in the bobbing of his throbbing phallus. Then those two monks moved in and started rubbing up against Arsenio, kissing every inch of his body. The passion was intense as the young boy chained up in the middle of the room tried so very desperately to reciprocate.
Suddenly, Arsenio felt the pleasurable pain of a hard thick dick being plunged up his ass. He welcomed it in with a gasp and a whimper as he bit into his flexing biceps. The boy looked down just in time to see his massive cock disappear down the throat of an especially gifted monk. As the boy wreathed in rapture, another monk moved in and tweaked his nipples with the skill of a master violinist. And just when the boy thought it couldn’t get any better, he felt a shocking sting across his back. Arsenio strained to look back in time to see yet another monk waving a cat o-nine tails over his head and then fling it against his back again. Arsenio was stunned at first, but the combination of the fuming oil and his sexual cravings took over. The monk kept whipping as the other kept pumping the boy who was utterly consumed by the pains and the pleasures being administered to him by expert hands.
Arsenio felt the cock planted in his glory hole became especially furious in its’ thrusting and then froze up as his inner sanctum was inundated with the warm broth from that monk’s loins. Arsenio reciprocated by shooting a major load of his own down the throat of “Monk Fellatio”. And as the monk retreated, Arsenio’s cock swung free and shuddered in the cool air of the monastery. To the boy’s amazement, as well as everyone else’s, is cock remained hard and willing. It was then Arsenio believed he found a new home and that he would spend the rest of his life there. How true.
And so it was for the nineteen days leading up to the night of the blue moon, each of the sixty-six monks taking their turn at the young slab of muscles hanging in the middle of their unholy domain. As one would unload their passions into the wiling lad, another would immediately take his place. What little sleep Arsenio did get those nineteen days and nights was usually when he passed out while the men continued to fuck his ass and perform other perverted acts on his body. The boy’s body was put through a variety of ordeals while strapped on to any one of the crosses, tables or racks at the monk’s disposal. When the cock of a monk wasn’t plugging Arsenio’s ass, butt-plugs, dildos, clubs and various fruits and vegetables from their gardens would continually sodomize the enthusiastic lad. Arsenio was given all the care that a sacrificial lamb would be given as he was watered and fed with fruits and vegetables, some of which had been just used on him. The boy’s body would be occasionally washed down and oiled up again for the monks to start all over. And for all those nineteen days, Arsenio remained under the influence of the scented oils coating his body; smiling blissfully as his cock stayed hard. While the monks pumped their seed up his gorgeous ass and down his gullet, the young boy’s seed was coaxed out of him.
The event Arsenio loved the most was dinnertime. His body would be tied down spread-eagle to the main dining table, as the chefs would dress the evening’s meal onto his body. Then at sunset, all would gather around on the table and feast off the delicious lad in a mad feeding and fucking frenzy. The boy’s mouth and ass were fed animal flesh and man-meat, and drowned with wine, gravy and copious amounts of man-tea. It was a fun mess for all and verged on bestiality when Arsenio was repeatedly fucked with chicken legs and ham hocks. And for dessert, warm slurries of fudge and caramel would be pour all over the young lad’s body. Sixty-six mouths and tongues slurping and licking the sweet concoction off his body would induce multiple orgasms from his virile loins. After dinner, Arsenio’s body was washed, oiled and sodomized all over again without a moments rest.
On the morning of the day of the blue moon, in the middle of the grand hall, Arsenio regained consciousness too find himself alone and strung up high with padded leather shackles around his wrists and a large wide bowl placed under his feet. The only source of light came in from a stained glass window, casting a patchwork of colors upon his body. This time, with his feet unable to touch the floor, his every move caused him to sway gently in the cool atmosphere of the monastery. Though the shackles were as comfortable as those things could be, the one hundred and sixty five pounds of his brawny yet streamlined figure weighed a little heavy on his wrists. Soon he realized it was best not to struggle against the manacles, just better to hang there and wait. And wait he did, for three hours before there was even a stir of echoes from beyond the darkness.
Right after the colored rays of sunlight finally swept away from Arsenio’s body, the entire order of monks paraded in single file. Each carried a tall stand with a single lit candle perched on top. Each walked past the suspended youth and circled around him. Once a large circle had been formed around the boy, the men each set down their tall candlesticks and each pulled out a cat o-nine tails from their belts. The glow of candlelight revealed very serious expressions on their faces and the frightened look on Arsenio’s. The monks start to chant in a language that the boy didn’t recognize except for thinking he made have heard something like it in movies about devils and possessions. As they chanted, one monk approached the boy swaying peacefully except for a shiver a fear that would occasionally ripple through his body. Arsenio braced himself as he saw the monk raise his whip high into the air and pause. The monk muttered a brief prayer and then became silent as he sent the cat o-nines whipping into the boy’s young flesh. Arsenio screamed as lashes landed across his bulbous abs. He thrashed around violently as he fought desperately to free himself. As he saw the whip come in again, he tried to deflect it with his muscular legs, but receiving lashes on his thighs hurt just as much.
The monk’s thrashings and Arsenio’s screaming continued unabated for fifteen minutes and then stopped just as quickly as they started. As the first monk walked away, Arsenio was able to catch his breath as he surveyed the damage done to his body. All of the strikes left their mark while some of the strikes on his tight flesh had opened up small gashes. Gentle trickles of blood meandered down his body and dripped off his toes into the bowl beneath him. A sharp sting traveled across Arsenio’s ass sending him into another chorus of screams. He tried to swing around to look at the monk that snuck up behind him, but a resounding flogging to his back made him lose his momentum. And on and on it went all day long, an eternity of pain and an endless number of lashings set upon his person as each monk took their turn at him. The boy’s flesh opened up with hundreds of tiny gashes, each producing a trickle of blood that joined with other trickles of blood until there was healthy runoff of blood down his body. By the time the last monk had finished with him, the boy had long ago passed out.
The bowl under his feet that now brimmed with his blood was carefully removed. One monk approached the unconscious Arsenio with a chalice filled with holy water. He raised it high, said a prayer and poured the contents over the boy’s bloodied body. Arsenio sprung back to life with a yell that echoed throughout the monastery. The holy water stung deep into his wounds, but as the water trickled down his body, it washed away not only the blood, but the gashes, welts and lash marks as well. As Arsenio calmed down and the stinging went away, he opened his eyes to see that his body was clean and completely unmarked. He couldn’t believe it; he thought to himself, “It must have been just a bad dream or a hallucination of some sort”.
Arsenio was relieved until he saw the monks laying out a large canvas of black silk beneath his dangling toes. The bowl containing his blood was carried back in and held by two monks as some of the others were given brushes. The brushes were dipped into the bowl of blood and then use to paint a large pentagram of the black silk. Once the unholy emblem was finished, additional shackles were attached the boy’s ankles. As a monk cranked away at a large wheel, the boy was lowered to the ground as the chains of the shackles around his ankles were pulled, forcing his legs apart. The shackles around his wrists were fastened to a new set of chains that stretched his arms out wide. Arsenio’s body was laid out on the silk as his limbs were extended out tight into a star formation, mimicking the blood painted pentagram under him.
The monks gathered around him once more. As many of the monks that could reach him in the crowded circle placed their hands on the youth’s body. Fingers went to work tingling every part of his body, seeking out specific pressure points without touching his resting genitalia. Despite everything that had transpired, Arsenio’s penis slowly became a cock again, his libido survived strong and still undisciplined. The monk’s fingers pranced across every inch of Arsenio’s head and body, but never touching his cock or balls. The sensation was overwhelming as the boy wreathed around on the floor and tugged at the restraints that bound him. And after a brief eternity of hundreds of fingers dancing on his skin, Arsenio’s body arched upward as geysers of sperm shot out from his massive cock in two copious surges and landed across his stomach. The monks parted and formed a large circle around the boy as they resumed their chanting; a chanting that haunted the spent lad. As the hour of midnight approached, the blue moon slowly inched its way into view through the stained glass window, and the monk’s chants grew louder as Arsenio’s dread grew deeper.
At midnight, a bell chimed twelve times as the monks became absolutely quiet and motionless. As the bell fell silent, all that could be heard was the sound of heavy breathing. One monk advance toward Arsenio as he lay tightly held to the floor. The monk kneeled down around Arsenio’s head and pulled a large and exotic looking blade from his robe. The monk held it high above his head as he started to recite a prayer. Arsenio started to panic and fought valiantly against the shackles that held him in place, but those restraints were tested many times by those much stronger that he. The monk’s voice grew louder and louder as the boy’s struggles became more and more frantic.
Then…silence quickly fallowed by the sound of a thud accompanied by a rip. Arsenio froze when he felt the blade being plunged into his chest, stopping his heart and lungs. He looked down at the blade’s handle sticking out of his body and was surprised that the pain of the stabbing felt more like a heavy weight on his chest. As he rested his head on the floor and realized the inevitable, he saw a flash of light…and then another… and suddenly, he was laying nude in warm sand with gentle waves lapping at his feet. He sat up and turned his head to look up and down the beach. It was beautiful, white sands framed by majestic cliffs as far as the eye could see in both directions, possibly all the way to infinity. He smiled as he realized…this was his version of heaven.
Yes…Arsenio went to heaven. As it turns out, admittance through the pearly gates is not denied or achieved by deeds or actions, but by intentions and fulfillment of purpose. Arsenio’s intention and divine purpose during his time on Earth were purely innocent and wholesome, to bring pleasure to man. And every day, Arsenio’s open heart and welcoming flesh lavishly brought pleasure to the tactile needs of man, assuring that this splendid youth would fulfill his destiny.
Meanwhile, back on Earth, the boy’s body continued to serve this order of monks, as nutrients for their flowers. Arsenio’s remains were buried deep in their garden, beside all the others that were suppose to carry away sins of monks whose true penance has yet to be fully realized. And if you dare to visit this monastery, you can find Arsenio where the flowers bloom especially radiant.