Forever Young 5

JUNE 1720

Disoriented, head still groggy from whatever had been in what he drank earlier, in the dark, putting his hand out and feeling a curtain, eighteen-year-old Franz drew the drapery aside and put his feet on the floor. The richness of a carpet under his bare feet told him he wasn't in his parents' residence above the book binding shop. It wasn't just his feet that were bare. He was naked. Where was this? Why was he here? What was happening to him? Why was he sore "down there"?

Arms emerged from inside the curtain wall, pulling the Austrian youth back onto the bed in the lord's canopied bed in his chamber high up in the castle in the Austrian Alps. The curtains were drawn closed, making the world of Franz and the Freiherr—the baron—only what was in the confines of the large canopy bed—and the mattress on which the baron had been taking his pleasure with the drugged Franz for some time. Enfolding the young man in his arms again, fully in command, and putting Franz on his knees, chest to silken sheets, under him, the man's erect cock slipped inside the eighteen-year-old's channel again. Always a different position, but always the baron's hard cock in the young man's tight passage. The lord was crowding a lot of sport into one night.

Holding Franz totally immobile, vulnerable to his penetration, the Freiherr slowly began to move his buried shaft again: in, out, in deeper, hold, back, in, out. The young man moaned for him. The cock easily slid inside the lubricant of having been there before, more than once, during the night.

Franz groaned from the pain of sheathing his first cock, but there was pleasure in this too, not being the first cocking of the night, being held close, kissed in the hollow of his neck, being wanted, his small body being worshipped by the Freiherr in his mountain castle. Aiding the Freiherr's conquest was that Franz's inclination, although not tested until now, was toward lying with men. There had never been a thought, even with the drug, that the lord would be denied his sport. Once the baron had seen the handsome young man in the village and Franz had returned the man's smile and look of interest, it was preordained that the lord would mount him and take his virginity to men from him.

Franz exclaimed at the pain of the teeth incising into his carotid artery in his throat as the thick shaft stoked him, stretched him, worked him. The pain subsided into a sensation of being one with the lord, a chosen one, a lightheadedness and slight throbbing both in the anal channel and at his throat and the feeling of gliding through waves, as his hips went to a rocking motion, moving with the slow, deep thrusts of the Freiherr's shaft. "

Ja, ja, mein Liege

—Yes, yes, my lord," Franz whispered in surrender as he was transported to higher, mistier realms. The young man reached underneath him, grasping his own cock and stroking to the coordinated rhythm of the cock inside him and the sucking at his throat.

In his own heaven, the Freiherr took his pleasure with his cock and fed on the youth's rejuvenating blood through the hollowness of his fangs. The two fell into a mutually satisfying rhythm, Franz growing more lightheaded, his imaginings more sensual, sensations he'd never had before, as the lord of the castle and all the surrounded it embraced him close, holding the youth under him, mounted on the young man's hips, riding him high. As he moved his buried shaft in and out, in deeper, in and out, the cock grew in size and length from its ingestion of new life essences. The youth moaned his surrender to his newly experienced sexual pleasure, the exchange of fluids taking the pain away and allowing the pleasure to flow in, and the stretching, stretching, moving cock as the Freiherr fucked and fed, fed and fucked. Franz slowly lost muscle control, sinking inside the lord's embrace, surrendering all, as the lord held him close, sucking and fucking, fucking and sucking.

It had been easy for the nobleman of ancient family, a rich, handsome, perpetually looking thirty fine figure of a man. It always had been easy for the Freiherr, for hundreds of years. He had seen Franz when the nobleman was sitting in the outdoor café in the village square, sipping his brandy-laced tea. The eighteen-year-old lad was the son of the bookbinder. He was small, perfectly formed, blond, and all smiles as he scurried around here and there in the village streets, on errands for his father—and he had returned the Freiherr's smile.

The sunny young man had shown himself to be full of innocence and openly friendly without suspicion or reserve. The second time the Freiherr saw the young man in the square he invited Franz to sit with him at the café, drink a chocolate with the patron of the village, and chat about life of a young man in the town in the castle's shadow. The nobleman had learned that Franz knew how to bind books as well—that he soon would be out on his own, sent to people's houses to work on their books while his father and elder brother worked in the shop on the square. The Freiherr talked with him about his own library up at the castle and of how some of his favorite books there needed to be rebound. Did the lad think he could do it? Would his father permit him to work in the castle? If so, he would need to live at the castle while he worked.

It was fine with the father. The father was honored. Yes, he understood that there was a lot of binding to do at the castle and this may mean that Franz would be entering the Freiherr's service permanently. That was fine with the father too. Franz was his second son. He had come of age and it was time he was out on his own. The first son would inherit the business. The father had been worried about a placement for Franz. At eighteen, even as small of stature as Franz was, it was time for him to create a life of his own. The Freiherr's proposal was a godsend.

In the castle, that night, the nobleman showed Franz his extensive library and some sense of the task ahead for the young man—not the real task the Freiherr had planned for the small, young beauty, the task the youth had been engaged for. All it took to move to the lord's deeper plan was a drug in Franz's chocolate as they talked books and their bindings. The baron stole the youth's innocence and virginity to the cock of a man there, in the library, on a sofa, not able to restrain himself until he could carry the young man upstairs.

Drugged into complete docility, the lad put up no defense. Franz murmured questions the baron did not respond to as he went about taking his pleasure. The Freiherr almost wished he had mounted some semblance of defense, though.

The young became putty in the lord's hands, his body completely open and vulnerable. Only his face showed the expression of confusion, slight fear, pain, and passion as the Freiherr petted, fondled, and kissed his naked, vulnerable, beautifully supple body—and ultimately mounted, penetrated, and fucked him mercilessly and totally, fucking him with deep penetration and the vigorous strokes of a virile man in lust even the first time.

The Freiherr quickly had the young man unwrapped and lying on the sofa. His body was perfect, beautiful, alabaster white, without blemish. The nobleman trembled and hummed as he worked, letting his hands glide over the flexible, resilient skin, exploring curves and crevices. The youth grimaced as fingers found and entered his rosebud of an anus and worked at opening him there. But when the Freiherr ran his hands up between the lad's thighs and coaxed them to part after kissing and petting him, Franz sighed, opened his legs, and arched his back.

"

Bezaubernd. Süss

—Lovely. Sweet.

Ich werde dich fricken

—I will have you," the baron whispered. It wasn't a question, and Franz did not disagree.

The lord was erect and throbbing and the young man open, vulnerable, and yielding, so little time was spent on foreplay. Stripped, the Freiherr kissed down Franz's torso and across his belly. The youth yielding to him as he positioned Franz's legs over his shoulders, placed a pillow under the young man's back to elevate his pelvis, took the lad's dick in his mouth briefly, and then moved lower to kiss the youth's rosebud of an entrance and penetrate it with his tongue. Franz was moaning and rocking his hips gently, as the Freiherr lay on top of him on the sofa, gently raised and moved the youth's knees to hang on his hips, and slid his own knees to where he lay between Franz's thighs and his cock head was in position.

Handing his erect cock, the Freiherr held his cock bulb to the young man's slowly dilating entrance and resolutely penetrated him. The drugged youth writhed a bit, panted, and cried as the lord slowly pushed inside him, stretching the youth's virginal passage, Franz's eyes wide with pain, surprise, and confusion. Franz managed to whisper, "

Bitte, bitte

—Please, please," but the Freiherr interpreted that to mean what he wished it to mean and proceeded to take his pleasure of the virgin.

There was no resistance. Once saddled, the nobleman started to move his shaft, in and out, in and out, and after initial sobs and heavy panting, Franz settled down to accepting the invasion and getting some pleasure amid the pain of this alien invasion. The exchange of body fluids in the Freiherr's kisses imbued the lad with an essence particular to what the man was that overcast the pain of the act with the prey's euphoria and pleasure. Even though he wasn't totally unconscious and he had a sense of what was happening and certainly experienced much of the pain and a little of the pleasure of it, Franz never once thought to question the Freiherr's right to take whatever he wanted from him. The nobleman didn't question this either. He felt his entitlement and took his pleasures as he wished.

The stroking of the cock increased in intensity and depth. The baron held Franz tightly and moved into taking his pleasure with thrusts as powerful and deep as if he was using one of the whores in the village brothel rather than stealing a young man's virginity from him. The baron lost all control and regard for the youth's moans and sobs and took him totally, even that first time.

The Freiherr became careful near the end, reining himself back, savoring his first time with the young man. He did not feed this time, this first deflowering of the youth. Feeding engorged him to gigantic proportions and that would be dangerous for this first taking of the youth. He held his appetites in obeyance and just enjoyed Franz with his cock, giving the youth his first anal fuck, while Franz, entering a new world, moved in awe of the experience under him. Arching his head back, digging his heels into the cushion of the sofa as best he could in his drugged state, and sacrificially jutting his pelvis up into the lord's groin, Franz's eyes flashed and his mouth opened to a yawning, silent scream, whispering "

Ja, ja, ja

," as tensing and jerking, straining, and jerking, the Freiherr released, with the youth experiencing the first flow of warm cum deep in his core. The warm cum flowed and flowed. The Freiherr was ever young, supremely virile, fully loaded, and it would be a sensation of pleasure Franz would be experiencing over and over throughout the night.

Finished with the first taking, the Freiherr gathered the youth up in his arms and took him upstairs to the lord's chamber near the top of the castle for a night of pleasure—the Freiherr's pleasure, pleasure that extended beyond cock work to include feeding. Still, he would be careful with this one. The beautiful eighteen-year-old blond youth was a keeper. A keeper into eternity. If the baron could not die, he would not suffer this state alone.

In the canopy bed, curtains drawn, creating a world just for the two of them, the Freiherr achieved his ultimate pleasure. Lying on top of the yielding Franz, the young man's legs spread, his pelvis elevated, his arms stretched out in a sacrificial pose, totally open to the shaft moving deep inside him, the conquering baron nuzzled his face into the hollow of the young man's throat, kissed him there, sliced into a throbbing artery with his sharp teeth, and fed.

* * * *

JUNE 1820

"He's late. Get me a young man! A fresh youth. I must feed on high-quality essence."

Gerhard Baron's exclamation was so belabored that Franz knew he couldn't wait longer for the cabin attendant to arrive. He left the first-class cabin on the SS

Olympus

passenger liner only hours after it cleared the Strait of Gibraltar, leaving the Mediterranean, on its sail from Rome to New York, and walked the decks, looking for a suitable youth. An eighteen-year-old would be ideal for the purpose. Young, fresh, vital. Franz himself was still an eighteen-year-old youth, his eternal condition thanks to his service to the Freiherr, now going out into the world as Gerhard Baron, who also didn't age beyond thirty.

Franz figured that Baron's need could not be met from the first- or second-class passenger list, as hiding what transpired would be difficult. But there was the steerage class, a mass of people below decks who were emigrating to the United States from Italy and other Mediterranean countries. There was always a chance there of a young man being lost and not particularly missed—not enough for anyone in authority to care.

With his first-class badge Franz would be able to go down into the bowels of the ship as he pleased and return without challenge by the ship's crew. Some of the men, especially the second-class ones, went down there for their sport. The voyage would be long, men's needs were short term, and those in the hull needed money. The problem would be in getting a young man up into first class and away from first class again, as needed. Franz had already explored the ship extensively and he knew the safest routes around where the ship's officers roamed, looking for passengers out of class. He took a shirt and pair of trousers of his that were of expensive cut and Baron's first-class badge and went on the hunt.

He got down to steerage without trouble and went shopping, checking out all of the likely young men, looking for ones not firmly within their family's bosom, and concentrating on youths eighteen or not much older—small, fair of face, and perfect of body. Only the best would do for Baron. As he appeared to be eighteen himself, no one was meeting him with suspicion. He was such a handsome, blond youth himself, with a sunny, open disposition, that he had no trouble engaging and talking with people and learning of their connections and their possible interests and independence. He was looking for a young man such as himself, who attracted others easily and brought smiles to their faces.

It was not long before he came to a beautiful, dark-haired, olive-skinned youth sitting in a crowded corridor beside a closed door and looking despondent. He could hear a clamor of women's voices from beyond the closed door, and the youth seemed to be tuned to them as well. The young man brightened a bit, though, when he saw Franz approaching. Franz recognized a look that was more than friendly at the base and instantly discerned an interest from the youth that matched the need Franz was hunting for. He crouched down beside the young man.

"What's the concern?" he asked. "What's going on this cabin that seems to have you concerned? My name is Franz, by the way."

"I'm Angelo," the young man answered. Ah, an angel, Franz thought. Just the thing. The Freiherr loved debauching angels. With luck, this one was a virgin to men, which was what pleasured Baron the most.

"I think my aunt may be dying in there," he said, responding to Franz's question, misconstruing—purposely from Franz's perspective—what the nature of Franz's concern was.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. What is the problem?"

"She is very ill. They don't know if she can survive or not."

"Are your parents in there with her?"

"My parents are in Italy. They are sending me to America with her. Her husband is already there. My parents want me to have a new life in America."

"So, you are alone on the ship with your aunt?"

"Yes."

"Your parents must think your life will be much better in America than here." He put a hand on Angelo's knee and he felt the youth trembling, but he made no move to pull away from the touch by another man.

"You are such a handsome young man. Did they have a special reason to send you away?" His master's need was acute, Franz didn't have much time to find him a youth. He had a notion what the issue here and the young man's proclivities were. He would check that out quickly and, if wrong, move on in his search. "Was it a man? If so, don't be embarrassed. I know the problem well."

"One of my uncles in Naples, yes," Angelo admitted, lowering his eyes, his long, dark eyelashes fluttering. "He is very powerful and takes what he wants."

"And he wanted you?" Angelo didn't respond immediately. "And you find him attractive? It isn't just that he wants you?"

"You understand," Angelo said. "My parents did not. My uncle is a very handsome and rich man."

"And did this man, this uncle—?"

"No. My parents intervened and sent me to my aunt."

"Why don't you come take a walk with me? You can't be of any help here. Come with me and I will take you where you can have a beer and calm your nerves."

"They don't serve beer here."

"They do where I come from on the ship, and if you put these clothes on and take this badge to show if anyone stops us—but don't give them a close look at it, please—we'll be fine. Come up to the top decks with me. There is fresh air, and space, and beer there. The diversion will give you new perspective on your problems."

They got back in the first-class area without trouble. Franz stopped at a bar on the way up and got two steins of beer, having Angelo wait on the deck outside. Before going back to him, Franz drugged the young man's beer.

By the time they made it back to Baron's cabin, Angelo was a bit groggy. By the time he was on Baron's bed, and the man was undressing and petting him, he was totally manageable and open and vulnerable to everything Baron did with him. It wasn't that the young man had ever done this before or that he would be so easily handled if he wasn't drugged, but Franz could discern that the young man had thought favorable fantasies of being in this position, and his defenses were all down. Franz went back on deck and sat in one of the lounge chairs outside the door of Baron's cabin, while, inside the cabin, the man fucked and fed on the eighteen-year-old Italian youth.

After a bit of fondling and petting of the perfectly formed and sexy small Italian, Baron moved on top of him with the young man on his back and his arms going straight from his body and clutching the edges of the bunk. Baron had coaxed the youth's legs open and bent, Angelo's feet flat on the bed. Baron's need was great, so he took little time getting inside the young man. He put an arm under the youth's back, raising his pelvis to Baron's need. The young man was a virgin and would have cried out in pain and violation, if Baron didn't have Angelo's underpants stuffed in his mouth, so it took some time and much groaning and panting from Angelo for the man to be fully saddled. But the enjoyment to Baron in doing that, enjoying the yielding suffering of the youth, paused his need to feed.

Angelo sobbed, panted hard, and groaned as Baron penetrated him, but the Italian youth offered no resistance other than muffled objections that soon subsided into moans and groans, and, ultimately, to Angelo moving his hips into the rhythm of the taking.

"

Entspannen und offen

—Relax and open to it," Baron murmured and when German seemed to have no effect, he tried it in Italian. "

Rilassati e apriti ad esso

." This got through to Angelo, and slowly, panting, the young man let the tension drain out of him. And slowly Baron's cock sank into him and stretched the youth's channel walls. Once he was buried inside the young man and was slow pumping him, the sounds from the youth turned into moans and whispers of "

Per favore, per favore. Sì, sì

—Please, please . . . yes, yes." When he dug his hands into Baron's buttocks, holding him close, and began rowing his hips in rhythm with the man's thrusts, it was evident that he was content to give his anal virginity up to this magnificently muscular and virile man on top of him.