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Related post: The Second Chronicles of Kovzland Book 1: Return of the Kovz KingBook 1: The Return of the Kovz King Book 2: The Guardians of Kovzland Book 3: The Quest for Eric Book 4: On His Majesty's Mission Book 5: The Prince of KovzlandChapter One As a rule, it's logical to assume that an eleven year old boy waking up alone on a cold town street is likely to be both afraid and uncomfortable. If you add to that the fact that I had no memory of how I got there or how I happened to be dressed in rags, it's easy to see that I was more than a little bit trou- bled. It wasn't just how I had gotten to be on the street so early in the morning that I had forgotten, but everything. I illeagle pedo porn sites lay there in the gutter in some alley, the blackened walls of two tall buildings rising to either side of me, and tried to figure out what I could remember. I knew how to speak, that seemed clear, and how to think. Passed that I couldn't remember anything. For a long while I thought that I had just been born, but if that were the case then I would pedophile pic hardly be able to speak, would I? Still, I had no memory of parents, no memories of a home, no memories of how I even got in the run down alley I found myself in. There was a leather knapsack beside me and I couldn't remem- ber what was in it or if it even belonged to me, couldn't remem- ber my name or if I had one, couldn't remember what I looked like. Feeling hungry, I tore into the bundle but I found nothing to eat. The only things in it were a handful of white, silk towels and a golden lamp that I couldn't open. I tried to look down its spout, but I saw only blackness. A pleasant smell came from it, but nothing came out when I shook it up and down. I sighed hope- lessly and returned the japanese pedo anime items to the pack. I wondered if I'd stolen them: they didn't look like the kinds of things a boy in my condition could afford to own. At any rate, I couldn't eat them and that was what was on my mind at the moment. pedo sexo young It wasn't even dawn yet, though the fact that the sky was getting lighter made it clear that dawn would not be far off. Through the tops of the buildings I could see that the day would be clear (and hopefully sunny and warm for my small bones seemed frozen stiff). Tentatively, I reached out my arms and immediate- ly felt the cold morning air rush in video anal pedo a dozen rips and tears in my shirt, if shirt you called it. It would be more accurate to call it a cape for it had obviously once belonged to a much larger person and hung on my skinny body very loosely. It stank of the garbage from the alley but I was certainly warmer than I pedo rape galleries would have been if my skin was bared to the chill morning air. I could tell that my upper body was in fairly decent shape: my skinny arms weren't scratched in the slightest and moving them ached only because I had grown so chill overnight in the alley. Sighing, I put my hands down on the cobblestone street I was sitting on and pushed myself to my feet. I was wearing a pair of ragged pants, again awkwardly tailored from a much larger pair. They were so ragged that they ended mid-way down my calves and I could see the pale skin of my legs before they disappeared into a pair of well-worn leather boots. If they were my size then I was a boy with very big feet. I could tell by wiggling my toes that there was a lot of empty space in the boots and that there were holes in the bottoms of them. Again, however, they were better than being bare and I didn't lament their condition very much. My legs, though equally sore from the cold, seemed to work just fine and I seemed to be in good condition. I was dressed in rags and there was a gnawing hunger in my tummy, but I was otherwise just fine. I looked around me, silently taking in the condition of the alley. There were some huddled forms of other people in rags lying curled up in the corners. Perhaps they were dead. They didn't move. I was instinctively afraid of them and made certain that I remained very quiet. Otherwise, there were many trash cans, crates and empty pallets. Garbage was strewn everywhere, mostly scattered papers but there was also rotting food, smelling unhappily like my clothes. One end of the alley ended in a high wooden fence, aged and weathered a hopeless gray. The other apparently opened on a street. I tried to improve my appearance by adjusting the rags about my body, then picked up my bundle and headed for the open end. There was a street there, cobblestones like the alley, lined with two and three story buildings all of which looked totally uninviting and closed. There were a few piles of horse dung in the road and I thought about the tall, sleek horses that must have left them. I loved horses even though I had no memory of actually seeing one. I did know what they looked like, however, enough to recognize their droppings in the street. I didn't feel surprised by anything I saw. Rather than having any expectations, I simply logged the sights away. There were very few people around and those who were all pushed carts or carried crates toward the west. I hitched my pack up on my back and stepped farther out of the alley, trying to see where they were going. A carriage driven by two horses was coming from the other way and I turned and watched as it went past. The brown animals leading it didn't look very happy. I wanted to go up and pet them, but I knew the man would be angry with me. He already looked upset and in a hurry. Grown-ups always looked like that, I knew. I rose on my tip toes trying to see where everybody was going, though standing on my toes gave me no better view. The street seemed to open up a few blocks to the west and I felt certain that there must be a public square there or someth- ing. If there was a square, it would have food and I would have to go down there if I was to find anything to eat. I looked down at my clothing again and was surprised to discover that there was a small gold medallion lying against my pale white little chest, hanging from a thin, gold necklace. I held it up to my eyes and looked at it closely. The medallion was about an inch around with an engraving of two naked boys standing on a hilltop and gazing at a sunrise. They were facing away, the taller, older boy's arm draped across the smaller boy's thin shoulders. The engraving was very intricate, down to the smooth, round contours of their bottoms and the crack separating their young cheeks. I could even see their shoulder blades rippling against their skin. It seemed like an odd engraving for a boy to have on a neck- lace, but I liked it and it seemed important to me. I turned it over and on the back it had "Kelvin Protect Us" inscribed on the smooth plate of gold. Maybe Kelvin was my name. Maybe it held some clue about who my parents were and I could find out who I was through it? At any rate, I didn't want to lose it, and I tucked it into my shirt and buttoned the rags up as far as they would go. A good portion of my little chest was still bare through the top button, but the necklace was hidden and I trusted that no thieves would see it and take it from me. A second startling discovery hit me when I found that I was also wearing a gold ring. It too had engravings on it, but I couldn't read them and shrugged. I was pretty sure I knew how to read, but the letters seemed to be foreign and unrecognizable. Perhaps I might have to sell the ring to get some money for food. Maybe I'd have to sell the lamp and the silk, too. I didn't know. I wasn't going to sell the necklace, however. Just the feel of the dainty chain wrapped around my thin neck felt com- forting and I suspected that it held some clue to my identity. However hungry I got, I determined not to sell it. Shrugging my thoughts away boyishly, I started pedofilias photos toward the apparent opening ahead. The air was getting warmer as I walked, my joints loosening and feeling better. I felt oddly happy, though I had no apparent reason for being so: I was dressed in rags, I was hungry and yr 12 pedo I knew no one, including myself. Still, I was young and free and ready to face whatever came my way. Mostly I was delighted to be walking along the street and seeing so many new things. The world was big and glorious and I wanted to see all of it. My feet, feeling very tender, scraped against the cobblestones through the holes in my boots, but even that couldn't dull my boyish excitement. A few blocks from the alley, the road ended in a huge square as I'd expected it to. Already a hundred merchants were scurry- ing about and readying stalls. They carried or dragged crates and pallets of fresh vegetables and fruits, fish and meats, many of them accompanied by burden laden boys not much older than me. These boys looked about as ragged as I did and I wondered if maybe all boys dressed in rags. The grown ups with them were dressed a little better, but didn't seem to like the dirty boys. I saw several boys being slapped and ordered about harshly. They didn't look as happy as I felt, but they didn't cry and none of them objected. I watched the cavalcade of food they carried with a gnawing hunger in my stomach, but I was also transfixed by all the activ- ity and by all the buildings that surrounded the square. I forgot about the food as my eyes scanned the area, taking in a hundred sites I had no memory of ever seeing before. The largest building there was obviously a church, huge and imposing. Though most of the people were hurrying about with other tasks, there were occasional visitors to it, huddled as they went up the steps beneath the tall, twin towers. The people looked small and pathetic beneath the glory of the cathedral and many of them looked as poor and ragged as I did. There was a cemetery beside the cathedral, but it didn't interest me much. I wondered if I might be able to get some food from the priests inside, and found my skinny legs heading in that direction even as I continued to scan the unfolding bazaar around me. "Get away from there, boy!" an angry man suddenly barked at me. I turned and saw him approaching me with a furious look on his face, and just had time to realize I was standing near his stall of fresh vegetables before his huge, meaty palm struck me across the cheek, sending me reeling back against the cobble- stones. My cheek burned from where he slapped and I awkwardly tried to stand up. "I didn't..." I started to explain, but I stopped when I realized the man had every intention of giving me a sound spank- ing. Instead, I whirled around, pushed myself to my feet and managed to start away at a run. The man kicked me hard in free pedo sex stories the butt as I scurried off into the crowd, but I managed to keep my feet and he stopped following me lest he abandon his stall to all the other street people lingering near. Now why did he do that? I wondered, feeling my eyes filling with tears. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was just trying to go to the church. I realized that a lot of other people were looking at me suspiciously, too, and I tried to keep far away from any of their stalls. The way they looked at me and the way they treated the boys hauling the masses of food made it pretty clear that these people didn't like boys very much. Maybe going to the church wasn't such a good idea. "Hey, kid," I heard a young voice calling. I looked around, but didn't see anyone. "Hey, kid?" the voice said louder. I was still rubbing my red cheek when I finally saw the ragged boy leaning rather casually against one of the stalls. I thought for a moment that he must have worked at it to be so nonchalant about being near it, but he looked even more ragged than I did. He looked about fourteen or fifteen, very tall and gangly, and very skinny. Still, he looked very cute and happy, too. His behavior seemed so different from all the other boys' that I felt very curious about him. He smiled at me, a warm, friendly smile topkds pedo that made me feel like I had found a friend so soon after coming to the big city. Maybe he would take care of me. He tipped his head toward the entrance to an alley and I found my skinny legs following pedo adult curiously and hopefully after him. The alley was narrower than the one I'd slept in but still stank of garbage and was littered with ash cans and broken pal- lets. "Come on," the older boy smiled, leading me deeper into the alley. "Where are we going?" I asked, hitching my knapsack up on my skinny shoulder. "Back here," he said. I followed him to where the alley ended in a wooden fence. It was back in behind some garbage cans and hidden from view from the outside. The tall, skinny youth stopped near the fence and turned back to me, leaning against a garbage can and smiling at me. "You're new, aren't you?" he asked. His voice was changing and cracked a little when he spoke. His eyes were sky blue and friendly as they looked up and down my ragged little body. I nodded, stopping a few feet from him. "Are you i love pedo hungry?" he asked. I nodded again and the boy pulled a shiny red apple from his pocket, holding it out for me. Delighted to be offered such a fine gift, I stepped closer to him and took the apple from his big hand. I held it with both hands and took a huge bite out of it, watching him as he watched me. He let me take a few bites before speaking. "Do you have any friends around here?" he asked. I was going to say I hoped he was going to be one but thought it sounded stupid and instead just shook my head and took another bite. "Well, then I'll be your friend. Come here," he said. I felt his long fingers take hold of my skinny little shoulder and he pedo pics stories guided me still closer to him. As I ate, he wrapped one of his long arms around my thin shoulders and hugged me against him. He felt warm and I felt a comforting glow inside. "That's a boy," he said, smiling down at me and pulling me closer against his side. "How old are you?" he asked. I thought I was eleven so that's what I told him. He smiled at this. He was really cute and I felt lucky to have made such a fine friend in so little time. "That's a fun age to be," he said, and I felt a sudden shud- der of nervousness as his other hand reached out, his fingertips sliding slowly across my bare chest through the rags. I felt my heart starting to beat faster and I lowered the apple from my lips, feeling a little confused and not even pedofilia nude swallowing the last bite. "You're small," he said as I felt his hand rub across my small, skinny body. I managed to swallow the bite of apple but stood there nervous and unmoving as his long fingers slowly reached out and unbuttoned my shirt. I looked down and saw my pale, little chest as he unbuttoned the next button and the shirt fell farther open. "Has anyone ever played with your penis before?" he asked, unbut- toning the third and last button and leaving the shirt dangling wide open down the front. I shook my head nervously and wondered why a boy would play with another boy's underground pedo child penis. My eyes grew wide with surprise when the older boy's big hand slipped inside my shirt and slowly rubbed his palm against my little chest. "Your skin is so soft," he half breathed. I knew I wasn't the smartest boy in the world, but this was weird. He rubbed across the little mounds of muscles in my chest, across my tiny nipples, over my rippling ribs, then down my sides. "What are you doing?" my childish voice finally asked nervously. "I want to show you something," he said, reaching down and rubbing across my little belly button. His hand felt wonderful against my bare skin, warm and gentle, but it scared me for some reason, too. I could feel my skinny belly shivering uncontrol- lably and I lowered my hands, watching as his fingers rubbed around my little belly button. "Man, you're soft," he repeated. I let out a little whimper of surprise when his fingertips slipped down the front of my pants and felt lower on my belly. This was strange. I didn't know what my name was, but I knew this was strange. When his fingertips finally pressed against my little penis, the boy smiled broader. "You don't have any hair, do you?" he asked, pushing his hand lower. 'Any hair?' Of course I did. I could see the yellow bangs falling into my eyes all the time. I didn't get a chance to figure out his question though because he'd worked his hand down far enough that he could take hold of both my penis and scrotum. It felt really good, but my eyes were pedofilias as wide images pedo girls as they could go. "Yeah," he sighed. "You're going to like this." He pulled his hand out of my pants and I felt oddly disappointed. It did feel good. "Let's take your pants off, okay?" I would be lying if I pedo animated movies said the idea didn't appeal to me. I didn't know what my penis looked like and I was curious to see it. Besides, having the boy touch it felt good and I was pretty sure he was planning on touching it a lot more. Still, there was a rush of boyish fear and shame in me and the thought of waving my penis around naked did seem pretty embarrassing. In a momen- tary panic, I quickly broke from the boy's arms and walked quick- ly toward the opening to the alley. "Wait!" he called after me, a pleading sound in his cracking voice. "Don't go. I won't hurt you." "I have to meet my parents," I lied nervously, still walking toward the exit but looking back at him with an odd sense of longing. "I'll come back later." "When?" he asked. "Uh, noon," I said, thinking that I was lying but realizing that I probably would come back to find him. He was a nice boy and I wasn't likely to find anyone nicer in the square outside. So what if he wanted to touch my penis? If he was nice to me, it didn't matter. "I'll be here..." I heard him say sadly from the back of the alley. The square had gotten busier during my brief foray into forbidden fruits and purchasers were now walking in and out of the aisles of stalls or passing in shiny new carriages. There were boys with them, too, but these were dressed in nice clothes, shirts and knickers, ties, even blazers. They were all squeaky clean and adorable and I envied them. There wasn't a girl in sight and I wondered if they hid them or something. Boys rich and poor seemed to be everywhere erotic pedo incest stories and into everything but there wasn't a woman in sight under the age of twenty or so. Odd. cartoon pedo I felt a brief pang of loneliness and stopped in the middle of the square. I should go back to that boy, I thought. He was a little strange to want to play with my penis, but he was cute and friendly. Better to have a good friend who was a little weird than no friend at all. What was I doing before I saw him? I wondered. The cathedral. It was still there, standing out higher than anything in town. I had been going there for food. The apple had helped a little, but I was eleven years old and eleven year old boys are always hungry. The boy said he would be waiting for me in the alley at noon. That gave me plenty of time to go to the cathedral and get something to eat. Who knows, it might not seem so weird to have my penis played with if I didn't feel so hungry. The decision made, I continued on across the square feeling a lot less lonely. That boy pedo sex child board5 liked me and he was going to be my friend. Maybe he knew a place for us to sleep and wouldn't play with my penis in an alley kinder porn pedo where someone might come in and see us. For now, I would eat. Later, I would play with my friend. I didn't know why I expected food at the cathedral, but apparently I had been in a church before because I was quite certain that they were supposed to take care of me. For whatever reason, I strolled across the square with my small bag of belong- ings flung over my shoulder. Despite my experience with the one man at the stall, I tried to smile at people going by but most were too busy to notice me. The ones who did eyed me suspicious- ly and twice I was scatted away. They didn't seem to like boys very much, which made one wonder why so many boys were permitted to run wild around the square. The sun had risen quite a bit and the air was warming nicely. I realized that my ragged shirt was still unbuttoned and my little chest was almost bare, the necklace twinkling in the sunlight. Nervously, I buttoned it back up, looking around for anyone who might have seen the necklace and want to take it from me. The boy in the alley didn't seem at all interested in steal- ing my things; he just wanted to touch my body for some reason. I knew that other people wouldn't be as kind or gentle as he was. pedo ttens I finally reached the cathedral steps and walked up them toward the huge wooden doors. One of these was open and I peered nervously inside. The room was fantastically huge, more than a hundred rows of pews leading from the entry to the ornate, impos- ing altar. I stepped slowly through the doors, my booted feet scarcely making a sound against the hard stone floor. A few dozen people were spread around in the pews, leaning forward in prayer. Slowly, I moved forward. A hand grabbed my skinny arm and restrained me and I turned to find a man in his late twenties leaning toward me. "What do you want, child?" he asked, his blue eyes looking at me sus- piciously. He was wearing black robes and a cross hung around his neck. Without knowing why, I knew he was a priest. "I'm hungry," I said sex pedo little girl in a soft, quiet voice. My voice was high pitched, unlike the deeper voice of the man who towered over me. "Where are your parents?" he asked me. I shrugged. "Are you an orphan?" I shrugged again. I didn't know if I had parents or not. Perhaps I was an orphan. How was I to know? "Who have you there, Father Donovan?" another man, older than the first, asked coming forward. "Another orphan apparently, Bishop," the man said, his blue eyes not leaving my face. The suspicion was flowing quickly out of them and he was soon looking into my eyes with a soothing gentleness. Perhaps I could still get something to eat. Some of the people in the back few rows overheard us and turned to look at me standing with the two men. The older man motioned for the priest to follow him and I was soon being gently but firmly pulled toward a door in the side of the entry. Feel- ing suddenly afraid, I tried to pull my arm from his big hand. "Where are you taking me?" I asked. "You're hungry, aren't you?" the priest asked. "We're going to take you someplace to eat." I was somewhat more cooperative after that, though I didn't like not being able to get away. I didn't resist, however, and I let them lead me through the door and down a long, dimly lit corridor. "He'd make a great altar boy," the priest said, still holding my arm with one hand while the other one started lightly rubbing my tiny shoulder through a tear in my shirt. The Bishop sniffed. "Yes. Perhaps." After considerably more twists and turns, down and up stairs, and through several long corridors, the Bishop finally opened a door and I was led into a plush, beautiful office. There was thick, soft carpet on the floor and a mahogany desk sitting in front of huge windows that looked out over the green grass of the cemetery. Father Donovan closed the door behind us and stood caressing my shoulders gently as the Bishop went to a cabinet and poured a red liquid from a crystal bottle. He sipped at it with a strange sort of excitement as he looked at me and I felt even more uncomfortable. I could feel the priests fingers rubbing across my collar bones and over my shoulder through the tear in one side of my shirt. The other shoulder, he just held and massaged through the fabric. It felt okay, but I was feeling really nervous now. "Take his boots off," the Bishop commanded. Father Donovan sat me down in an armchair, my feet not touch- ing the floor. He knelt in front of me as he pulled my ragged boots off and bared my small, dirty feet. They were much smaller than the boots had been, and there was dirt in between my toes. "What does he have in the bag?" the Bishop asked. The priest took the bag from me and poked through it, showing the Bishop all of my odd assortment of goods. "Were you going to sell those things, child?" he asked me. I shrugged again. I didn't know what I was going to do. "Did you steal them?" he asked. I shook my head, my blue eyes growing wide with fear that they would think I had even though I didn't remember doing it. I felt oddly certain that I would get a severe beating if I were caught stealing; the reaction of the man at the stalls when I hadn't even looked at his old vegetables was enough to terrify me. The Bishop free pedo cp links smiled at me, a knowing smile that showed he didn't believe me. I felt the priest's hand tenderly stroking the blond bangs from my eyes. "Once he's cleaned up, he'll make pedo fuck child top a real good altar boy," he said again. "If those things belong to him," the Bishop said with a gesture toward my knapsack, "then he'll be worth a lot more as a slave boy up at Tarsec Village." "He's too young for that," the priest said, sounding a little emphatic. "Perhaps, but he's a Kovz Boy if I'm not mistaken. Tarsec men will pay a great deal to get one of them for their sons, particularly one as pretty as this one. I got a note today saying that Master Thorne would be coming into town tomorrow." "What for?" "It seems one pedo land pics of his boys needs a slave boy to play with. He's supposed to marry next year." The priest said nothing, just stood gazing at the Bishop with an almost pleading look in his pale eyes. "Take his clothes off," the Bishop commanded suddenly, sit- ting behind the desk and watching intently. I didn't much care for being stripped fotos pedo porn naked by the men and struggled as Father Donovan pulled me to my feet. "No photo pedo land you don't," he said, his strong hands quickly overpowering me and making me stand still as he undid the few buttons to my shirt and easily pulled it over my skinny shoulders. The boy in the alley had been much more gentle and I immediately wished I hadn't left him. I felt the ends of my rags peeled over my thin shoulders and slipped down my arms and my pale, little chest was fully exposed. I stood there in my ragged pants, my small, skinny chest bare. The glistening, gold medallion stood brightly bet- ween the small mound of my muscles, looking even brighter against my almost white skin. When I felt the priest's hands reaching for my pants, I reflexively pushed them away and started to break for the door, willing to leave everything I had behind including my shirt and boots. "Okay," Father Donovan said, his big hands instantly grabbing hold of my skinny shoulders and jerking me back into the room. He turned me to face the Bishop and I felt his fingers grabbing for the lace that held my pants up. I felt really confused now and frightened, could feel my face burning with shame as my eyes welled with tears. The priest just kept untying my pants, howev- er, and, when the lace slid apart, he separated the ends with no regard for my fear or sadness. I heard him pant suddenly as he unveiled my naked little penis, slowly pulling my pants down my skinny legs and holding them as I obediently stepped out of them. I stood there naked, the men's eyes on my naked body. They looked at me for a long time, the Bishop smiling as his eyes gazed across my pale chest and naked little boyhood and Father Donovan gazing at it with an intense aching in his face. "He's circumcised," the priest pointed out. "Yes. I've heard that all Kovz Boys are circumcised." "They circumcise boys in the Southland too. He probably escaped from one of the slavers." The Bishop shrugged. "We could probably pass him off as a Kovz Boy one way or another. See how soft his skin is?" The priest nodded. "He's still too young to be the playmate of a Tarsec boy. They like big penises. His is almost tiny." It embarrassed me to have them talk about me like this and I felt a little defensive when they mentioned my boyhood. I looked down at it. It was very pale, like the rest of my body real pedo nude pics and I blushed knowing that it was tiny. My little testicles were round and my boyhood lay on top of a small, hairless scrotum, innocently oblivious to the eyes looking at it. The skin all around it was smooth and white, only the little purple head showing any color between my skinny thighs. "It may be little," the Bishop said, "but Thorne won't care so long as he's a Kovz Boy and wants to play with his son a lot. See if he gets an erection," he ordered Father Donovan. The priest began panting and I jumped when I felt his big hand grabbing the hairless little organ between my legs. I stared in astonished fear and embarrassment as his fingers ca- ressed my little boyhood, petting the small purple head, fondling the little balls in my smooth scrotum. The way he did it, the gentle and attentive way he stroked the head with his thumb, evoked a strange sensation in my stomach, even stranger than the one the boy in the alley had evoked. The priest seemed to know what to do to a boy's penis. "Do you like that?" the Bishop asked, smiling as I stood in fear, panting despite myself, allowing Father Donovan to caress my most private body part. I started to cry softly, feeling so abused by the men and feeling embarrassed to feel how nice the man's fingers felt, but the priest just kept fondling me, strok- ing my penis until it felt even stranger. "Here it comes," the priest panted and I could feel my little Pregnant pedophiles boyhood stiffening in his fingers. I stared at it in confusion. It felt so odd and the feeling of its stiffness between my legs was very confusing. It was soon sticking straight out from between my skinny thighs, pulsing up and down, the purple head shining brightly against the pale, two inch shaft. This was very strange and frightening. To my knowledge, boys' penises didn't do things like this. The man was doing something very strange to it. "Oh yes," the Bishop smiled larger. "He's old enough to sell, Father." "Yes," the priest panted absently in agreement, his fingers holding my erection and slowly rubbing up and down on it. "That will be enough, Father Donovan," the Bishop said firm- ly, causing the younger man to release my stiff penis and blush in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he said. "He's so pretty." The Bishop nodded. "Look at him though. He's a virgin. They pay extra for boys who don't know yet." "Bishop... must we sell him?" "If he's a Kovz Boy, he's worth a hundred other boys to Tarsec, two hundred to someone like Thorne" the Bishop said. "I understand his kid is worth a small fortune already. Having his own Kovz Boy would make him the most sought after boy the village has ever had. Thorne will like that. The child needs a bath though. Put him down with the others and tell the nuns to take care of him. We'll want him looking real pretty when Thorne arrives." "Do you think that's wise, Your Holiness?" Father Donovan asked. "Most of those boys come from the streets. You know what they'll do to a boy like this." "Should I trust him with you instead, Father Donovan? Or with the nuns? Lord, between you and the nuns down there, there isn't a child left in the orphanage who hasn't dipped his cock in one hole or another." "Respectfully, Your Holiness," Father Donovan replied softly, "we all enjoy our evenings with one of the boys..." The Bishop looked momentarily angered by this, but then forced himself to relax and nodded. "Fine," he said at length. "That's why he's safer down there. See that the more excited boys are removed tonight. Let all the nuns have their choice and all the priests, too. Oh, and Frank: pick one out for me." "Yes, Bishop," the priest said sadly. He handed me my ragged pants and I eagerly scurried into them, tying the fly closed and feeling much better. I could feel my erection still throbbing in the baggy pants and felt more confused by this than I was embar- rassed by my nudity. "Father Donovan: just take him down there and turn him over to the nuns. Make sure they know that he's not one of the ones who can be picked. I want you back up here within five minutes." "Yes, Bishop," he said, again with deep regret. "Come along, child," he said, his hand rubbing across my thin, naked shoulder blades and leading me back out the door. He had my shirt and bag in his other hand, but he didn't give them to me. Again we went through the maze of the cathedral, the priest continuing to feel my back all the while. "Where are we going?" my squeaky voice asked. "The orphanage," he said. "You'll like it: there are a lot of boys there." "I don't want to go to the orphanage," I whined. "You'll like it. They'll give you some food to eat and a place to sleep." I felt like crying. All I could think about was the cute boy in the alley and how he would be waiting for me at noon. I almost told Father Donovan about him but thought better of it: they might go and force him into the orphanage, too. I had made a dreadful mistake. There was no sense pedo hardcore pics making him pay for it with me, even if it would have been nice to have a friend. Finally, Father Donovan opened a door that led into a large kitchen. There were several women there, all dressed in black and white robes and all busy at one form of work or another. "Here's another one," he said. One of the women turned and sighed. "Lord, where do they come from." She put aside a towel and came over to us, peering down at me with distaste. Her fingers were suddenly poking through my hair and examining my scalp. "At least this one doesn't have lice." "Will you see to his needs? The Bishop wants him ready for sale by tomorrow morning." The nun nodded in exasperation. "Of course, of course," she complained. "Are those his clothes?" "Yes, but they're ruined." "Well, they'll have to do. We have too many boys to clothe them all and I won't have a bunch of naked boys running around." "He's cute..." one of the younger women said, coming over to me and rubbing my shoulders the way Father Donovan had. I blushed and smiled up at her, asian young pedo despite my fear and nervousness. "...and his skin's softer than mine." "The Bishop says he's to be left alone tonight," the priest said, sounding sad. "He said we could take our pick from the others, but no one is to touch this one." "He wants him for himself," one of the other women accused in a hushed and embarrassed voice. Despite her soft voice, she sounded angry. Father Donovan shook his head. "He's being sold to Thorne tomorrow. The Bishop doesn't want him to be ruined." The woman next to me ran her hand down my chest to my little belly button making me shiver. "I wouldn't ruin him," she smiled, slowly rubbing my shivering belly. "I think the Bishop is serious, sister," the priest said, sounding more than a little angry. The woman slid her hand up to my shoulders and looked peevish. Father Donovan gave her my shirt and bag and, with a last longing look at me, left me there with the woman. "Well, pretty one," she said, tousling my hair, "I guess that means I get to be with Timmy again tonight." She said nothing more to me and I soon felt her hands untying my pants. She was much less tender about this than the priest had been and stripped me naked, pursing her lips with suppressed adoration when she saw my hairless little penis. "Praise God, He that gives me cause to rejoice..." I was relieved that the stiff- ness had left my penis, but was still embarrassed to be naked in front of so many women. "He's pretty," one of them smiled at me. "Look at that adorable little penis," another said. "He must be a slave boy," said a third. "That'll be enough out of you," the oldest of the nuns com- manded. "Get back to work." They did as they were told but continued to smile at me when they could. Their curiosity made me embarrassed, but I could feel their affection for me and that felt nice, so nice pedo free galery porn that I could feel myself exposing my little boyhood to them as much as possi- ble. They seemed to like looking at it and I started to realize that it was something special, something that could earn their affection. The eldest woman gave my clothes to one of the girls to wash and told me to stand in the corner until they were ready. I stood obediently and blushed at the girls as they looked at me. There was a small cabinet in the corner and I leaned back on it, blushing and smiling as I spread my skinny little legs and watched the delighted, adoring smiles on the girls' faces. My penis definitely seemed to get most of their attention and I sensed it quickly. My skinny, white, little chest and delicate necklace didn't attract them much at all. It took a while for my clothes to be washed and dried in front of the fire and I just stood there naked and blushing without speaking. After almost a half hour of this, the woman brought me some food and I managed to eat it porn rusian photo pedophilia without being overly rude in my hunger. "He's filthy, Reverend Mother," one of the girls said, smil- ing down at my little boyhood. "May we give him a bath?" "He can shower with the other boys tonight," the woman re- plied gruffly. "Why are you all making such fools of yourselves over a little boy?" "He's pretty, Reverend Mother. Look at the way he blushes." I was blushing, too, my face feeling hot. At the same time, I was smiling up at them from beneath my long black eyelashes and blond bangs. "Oh, nonsense," she replied, but did turn and gaze down at me with a slight smile on her lips. "You all heard what the Bishop said. There'll be pleasure enough for all of you tonight, but I won't have this boy touched." "Oh, Reverend Mother..." one of the women whined for all of them. "Oh, fiddle sticks. If you want a little boy, go pick one out. Lord knows we have enough of them. For my part..." she added with a secret smile to the others, "I think I'll have Jeremy this evening..." She said this with a smug smile and a twirl across the room that made the nuns giggle. She looked old to me, perhaps in her fifties, while the rest of the women looked to be in their late teens or early twenties. "He's so big," one of them grinned. "I want David," another said. Soon, they were all calling out the names of boys and I was, at least for the moment, forgotten. I didn't know what they were talking about but wished that one of them said they wanted me again. I liked feeling wanted. When my clothes were finally cleaned, the Reverend Mother gave them to me and I scurried into them. The washing had done them little good for, though they were now clean and smelled a little like perfume, they were even more ragged. When I moved my arms, my entire chest would become visible through two or three strands of cloth. Still, the cut-off pants did conceal my little penis and I was grateful for that even if the girls didn't smile at me quite so often. I said nothing as the older woman led me out a door into a huge dining room. Worn wooden tables ran in rows around the room and she led me around them to a door at the opposite end. We went through this one and down yet another long corridor. This led through still another door. We passed through it into a huge, dusty room filled with half-clothed boys who seemed to be tired and hungry. The door opened onto a walkway that seemed to run all the way around the room. From there, it looked like the entire place was bigger than the rest of the cathedral combined. It was tremendously large, disappearing into the darkness and the dust. There were a few yellow lights hanging from the ceiling, but most of the light came from windows high on the walls where I could see people's legs walking by, showing that we were, for the most part, under- ground. The boys were about thirty feet below us on the floor. The only way down appeared to be a single ladder. One side of the room was piled high with raw grain. There was a large chute leading upward, apparently where the grain would be dumped when brought in by farmers. Some boys would go to this pile, fill up a wheel barrow then take the load up a steep ramp to the top of a huge grinding machine. The machine was boy-driven and a dozen boys were kept walking along a round gear, turning the grinder. The cracked grain emerged from a chute in the bottom, was loaded onto more wheel barrows by other boys, and was then led to a giant sifting machine, also powered by a dozen boys. That was as much as I could see of the opera- tion, but I could tell there was more happening on the other side of the machines. From the grinding machine, clouds of grain dust were spewing forth and coating the young boys bare chests, abdo- mens and legs. The woman led me up to a boy in his mid-teens. He was a tall, blond haired boy and he looked down at me as we approached. He was wearing blue jeans and a shirt that was half-unbuttoned showing most of his skinny chest. "Jeremy, this is a new boy," she said to him, and I stared in embarrassment as her fingers reached into the boy's shirt and petted his hairless, boyishly muscular chest. "Okay," the boy's young voice said, his blue eyes looking up and down my body and making me feel uncomfortable. He didn't seem at all troubled by the woman touching him. "What's his name?" "Lord, I don't know. I can't remember the names of the boys who've been here for years. Just take care of him. See that he gets a cot and a shower tonight. The Bishop is planning to sell him tomorrow so make sure he doesn't get hurt." "Okay. He's awfully small," the boy added, looking down at me with a look of disappointment on his face. "We won't get much work out of him but we'll take care of him." "That's a good boy," the Reverend Mother said, her fingers trailing farther down the skinny boy's shirt until his long abdomen was bared and her fingers stroked across his little belly button. "You'll be with me tonight," she said, her fingertips petting all over the smooth skin of his hairless young belly. "Yes, mam'n," Jeremy replied respectfully. I could see a large bulge in his blue jeans, but I didn't connect it with any of the woman's behavior. I swallowed my surprise when the Reverend Mother's other hand reached down and squeezed the boy's big bulge, a wicked smile on her face. Jeremy swallowed, too, and seemed to rise up on his toes a little, his brown eyes staring into the Reverend Mother's with fear and uncertainty. "Take a shower before you come and don't dawdle to play with any of the boys on your way." Jeremy nodded and the Reverend Mother smiled contentedly. She turned and left me standing with the teenager. As soon as she was gone, Jeremy sighed and shook his head. "What's your name?" he asked looking down at me again. I looked up at him for a long moment in uncertainty. Knowing he'd think I was stupid if I said I didn't know, my childish voice softly replied "Kelvin." I doubted I could protect anyone as the medallion implied, but I liked the name and it felt com- fortable to use it. I hoped no one was going to get fotos depedofilia mad at me for it. "You're pretty, Kelvin," he said, his hand brushing the hair from my eyes as I blushed. "I'm surprised the old bat didn't keep you for herself. The boys are going to like you. How old are you?" "Eleven," my childish voice said uncertainly. "Well, my name's Jeremy. I'm sixteen and I'm the supervisor. If you do what you're told, you won't get a spanking. Take your shirt off." The threat of a spanking was enough to make me cooperative. I couldn't remember ever having been spanked but I didn't like the idea of it. I quickly peeled off the ragged shirt. "It's too hot for these down here," Jeremy said, grabbing it from me and throwing it into a garbage bin nearby. His eyes gazed down my skinny body until I felt my face grow bright red. For a minute I thought he was going to make me take my pants off like everyone else had done, but he didn't, just stared at the little bulge between my legs. "God, you're pretty," he said again. "What's this?" he asked, his fingers touching my little chest as he looked closely at the medallion. I didn't answer and the boy didn't push the issue. After a few seconds, he let it go and it dangled on my chest again. "Sandy!" he called over the walkway. A young boy looked up at him. He had a wheelbarrow that he had just emptied into the grinder and was heading back for more. "New boy." Sandy looked at me for a long while and I saw him swallow. "Well, come up and get him. You're in charge of him." The boy swallowed again and I watched as he came over and pulled himself up the ladder. He was only wearing a pair of ragged shorts and I could see small muscles ripple along his shoulders, could see the hardness of his chest beneath his small nipples. Soon, he was standing beside us looking down at me until I blushed still more. He was a cute boy of about thirteen. He had sandy blond hair and blue eyes. His chest, though small, was very pretty and his skin looked soft. There was a big bulge in his shorts and I was embarrassed to realize I was staring at it. Like all the rest of the boys in the room, his skin was coated with grain dust that caked on with his boyish sweat. "Put him to work on loading," Bruce instructed him. "After dinner, get him a bunk and make sure he takes a shower." "Is he..." the young boy said, bashfully talking from beneath his long bangs. "Well, what?" Jeremy asked impatiently. "Is he mine tonight?" the younger boy asked. Jeremy laughed. "The sisters are fotos de pedofilos having a boy fest tonight. You know they're not going to leave you behind, much less the little kid." Sandy blushed and looked down sadly. "Don't be such a whiner, Sandy," Jeremy scolded him, turning to look at his clipboard. "Shit, you have enough fun all the time anyway." Sandy's cute face looked briefly angry, as if ready to argue with the older boy, but he caught himself and fell silent. "You can't have latina sex pedo every boy you want, especially when all the sisters are out to get you. Show this kid what to do and tell the other boys to leave him alone. He's going to be sold tomor- row and our ass is grass if anyone touches him." "Okay," Sandy said, his tenor voice cracking. He looked down at me, still through his long bangs. He looked like a sweet boy and I felt a strange desire to hug him and comfort him. Even more, I wished that we would hug and comfort me. I distantly wondered what he and Jeremy were talking about. I was a boy though and boys are used to people talking about things they don't understand. "Come on," Sandy's young voice finally cracked. He led me down the ladder and into the mass of young boys hard at work. They ranged in age from about eight or nine to fourteen or fifteen. Jeremy looked like the eldest one. They were all looking at me as Sandy led me to the wheelbarrows, their slender young bodies caked with sweat and grain dust like Sandy's was. I could feel the older ones nudging each other, heard them whisper back and forth to each other, heard a few giggles through the sound of the grinding machines. Soon, I was hard at work hauling the grain from the pile to the grinder. I wasn't strong enough to get it up the ramp, so Sandy helped me. He didn't introduce me to any of the other boys but I could feel them continue watching me. Some of the boys, particularly the older ones, had strong, muscular looking chests, but every one of them, muscular of not, looked skinny and un- derfed. When any of them moved, their ribs rippled against their skin and I found myself entranced by them. None of the boys had shirts, but they all wore something between their legs. None of the youngest boys wore more than underpants and most of these were almost as torn and ragged as my pants were, so ragged that I could frequently see their round, hairless little testicles slip through the legs and dangle out as they worked. Their underpants, like the rags any of the boys wore, were dust covered and filthy. The boys didn't even talk to each other as they worked and it was very boring. After several hours, I felt like my skinny arms were going to fall off and felt like I had been in the sweatshop for days. Dust from the grain seemed to cake inside my nose and I had trouble breathing. In my sadness, I thought again of the young boy I had met in the alley that afternoon, and wondered how pedo girl fuck pics much happier I might have been had I only stayed and let him play with my penis like he wanted to. Now, I was working like a slave and was soon to be sold off like a slave. I didn't make very good choices as a boy. I found the other boys a great source of fascination. Though they were all filthy from the dust, their young bodies were extremely fascinating to me and I found myself gazing at them, not sure why I found them so attractive. They worked hard, their bodies, however small, constantly struggling against the weight of their loads or steadily walking over the huge gears and driv- ing the grinder. Through brief interchanges with Sandy, I learned that if we didn't work hard enough, we would be beaten or, worse, we wouldn't get dinner that night. Jeremy, he said, was a nice boy, but he wouldn't gallery pedo sex hesitate to single out the ones who were slacking. These were the ones who got the beatings. The cathedral bought the grain from local farmers who would deposit it in the chute. Several times that day, I saw a bright light opening at the top of the shoot and a huge load of grain came pouring in. Every time I thought we were almost finished hauling it for the day, another of these big loads poured down. They became the hated demons in my life. I kind of thought it would be fun being one of the boys walking on the grinders. They were as half clothed as we were, but there were many of them and all they had to do was walk around and around on the gears. I thought that I could do that. I stopped from volunteering, however, when I saw how rough and calloused their feet were. If I were to walk on one of those grinders for a day, my feet would have been cut up and bleeding something awful. It was more fun to work with Sandy, though, as for that, the boy talked so little and seemed so unhappy that it wasn't a lot of fun anyway. "What's wrong?" I asked him, at one point during the day. He shrugged his bare shoulders and kept working. "I have to sleep with one of those witches again tonight," he said in his soft, cracking voice. That didn't seem so bad to me, knowing that he was referring to the nuns. "They're nice," I said uncertainly. Sandy sniffed. "I'd rather play with myself... or with you," he answered. Sleep? Play? I didn't see how they matched up and didn't say any more. Finally, Jeremy rang a bell near the door and all the boys let out a sigh of relief. The boys on the grinder stopped walk- ing and all the wheelbarrows, shovels and tools were dropped immediately where they were. The young workers all crowded toward the ladder and Sandy led me to it. Soon I was standing in a mass of half naked boys, all of them dust covered, the older ones glistening with sweat through the dust. I could smell a strange, pleasant scent from these boys that made me feel strange inside. As their long, skinny arms reached up to grab the ladder near me, the scent became stronger and I smiled a little as I sniffed it. All of them, older or younger, were dirty. As we waited our turn at the ladder, I felt their bodies rubbing against mine and felt more than one pair of hands rubbing my bare chest or back openly and without embarrassment. They were all talking now and shocking pedo hardcor there was a din of boyish voices, most as squeaky and high pitched as mine, some cracking tenors and baritones, all of them sounding exhausted but relieved and eager for dinner. I didn't pay much attention to them. I was too confused by all the hands that kept touching me, all the small boy chests that rubbed against my back. I heard some boys saying how pretty I was, felt their eyes watching me with uncomfortable fascination. If I hadn't felt so small and helpless, it might have been nice. As I started up the ladder, boy hands grabbed my butt and almost made me fall. When I turned to find out what they were doing they told me to hurry. Some giggled. When I started up again, their hands returned, rubbing my small bottom and bare legs. Unable to protest, I just struggled to get up the ladder, my skinny, exhausted arms barely able to hold on. I was relieved to get to the top, but the press of boys continued, my half naked body nudged between them as we walked like cattle through a long hall, my body rubbed against their's, fondled by their curious hands. Sandy didn't protect me from any of this but he wasn't one of the boys groping me either. He walked close to me, close enough that the other boys' bare chests frequently pushed my body against his. He didn't complain or look at me with anger, just allowed the other boys to keep rubbing their bodies against me. The press of half naked boys led me up the hall and into a large bunk room off through a side door. Here, all the boys crowded in, taking their appropriate bunk. The wooden beds lined both walls two high with a narrow aisle between them. Sandy took me to a lower bunk on one side and told me to stay there until he came to get me for dinner. After that, he left for his own bunk about halfway down the room. I stood there feeling small, frightened and alone. I looked around nervously at the skinny, dirty, half-naked bodies collapsing on the bunks all around me, but was too confused to do anything for a long time. A young boy was lying on the bunk above mine and I looked at him helplessly, his cute face smiling at me. He was as dirty as any of the other boys, his bare legs and small chest looking smooth and soft beneath the layer of grime. His ragged shorts were so tattered that I could see his small penis when I looked up the leg hole. It lay on his thigh as dirty as the rest of him. I don't know why I was so fascinated by his boyhood, but I discovered that I was staring at it. It looked strange, because I couldn't see his penis head. I thought this was just because his penis itself was hard to see pedoland xxx in the darkness beneath his shorts and with all the dirt. "Hi," his high pitched voice said to me. He was lying with his head pillowed on his arm and I could see the smooth skin on his small, brown armpit. "Hi," I swallowed shyly, blushing and looking away from his little penis. "My name's Matthew," he said. "What's yours?" "I'm Kelvin," I replied. There was a moment of silence and I found my eyes slowly returning to his shorts, felt them gazing nervously down to look at his hairless penis. He lifted one of his legs, pulling the shorts wider apart and leaving his penis fully exposed to the light, laying small and innocent against his skinny thigh. I looked up at his cute face and he grinned back at me, knowing what I'd been looking at. I was so embarrassed that I crawled onto the bunk beneath him. There was no mattress. The bed was nothing but a piece of plywood. The blankets were made from burlap and were filthy, smelling of boy urine. I looked up and could see urine stains on the plywood above me: apparently Matthew wet the bed. After a few minutes, Sandy came back and told me to follow him to dinner, which I did. Boys, still filthy and half-dressed, crowded against the door and I quickly felt their bodies pressing against mine, quickly feeling like I was in a cattle train again, unable to do anything but follow along with the rest of them. I thought they looked so cute and their skinny young bodies did fascinate me, but I felt so helpless at the same time, unable to turn or walk away or do anything on my own. Their chests and bellies pushed against me, flowing in a sea of filthy boy flesh down a hall. I could smell them again, faintly beneath the generous smell of grain and through the dust almost clogging my nostrils. It was such a strange smell, and I almost had to fight against a desire to get closer to it. Somehow, the smell of their pubescent perspiration made me feel like I was home. The river of boys carried me down the hall and pedosex age 12 through a door into the dining room the Reverend Mother had brought me through. We ate a thin stew dished out by free banned pedo movies the nuns. For the most part, the women seemed bored and unhappy. When a cute kid went by, however, they seemed to brighten. They gave more food and bread to these boys than to the others, making the skinny, dirty, half naked kids blush uncomfortably. The boys all seemed too tired to talk very much when we sat down at the long wooden tables, but they did anyway. Mostly they were talking about the nuns and how this one or that one was going to take this boy or that boy that night. I noticed very early on that the boys who had a lot of food were the ones most mentioned as being a nun's for the night. I didn't understand, but didn't say anything. I was horribly embarrassed when Jeremy made me stand up and introduced me to the assembled boys as dinner ended. Some of them clapped. Several threw pieces of bread at me and laughed. Sandy, who sat beside me throughout dinner, spoke very little. He seemed very shy and didn't talk to any of the boys around us either. "The boy who did the least work today..." Jeremy began, and a hush fell instantly over the dining room, "is Kelvin." There was a rash of laughter and I felt more bread being hurled at me from all over the room. I don't know why, but a rush of terror filled me. My eyes brimmed with tears, feeling like I had failed and knowing instinctively that I was going to get a spanking. I thought I had worked so hard and I was so desperately tired. "No," the Reverend Mother whispered loudly to Jeremy, twirl- ing the boy around and forcing him to look at her. "Not him!" "But it's always the new boy..." Jeremy said, looking half his age and very confused. "Not him!" the Reverend Mother repeated emphatically. "Uh," Jeremy said, looking uncomfortable. "Uh, the boy who did the least work was... Oliver." There was a united sigh of relief and several of the bolder boys jeered and threw bread across the room. I looked around and saw two of the smaller boys nudging and pushing another boy their age. He turned around, his adorable young face filled with fear and terror. He was only about eight or nine with curly blond hair and a childish body hidden by a ragged grey shirt and ragged grey pants that ended at his knees. The boys next to him pushed him to his feet and he stood up with tears in his eyes. He looked at me and I felt a great pain in my chest, as if knowing that he was going to be punished for something I had done. His small hands were fearfully knotted in the lower tails of his shirt and he stood there like a frightened dear, eager to run away but too frightened to know where to run. He looked small and pathetic, his baby blue eyes already brimming with tears beneath his mop of yellow hair. Giving up, he started walking slowly toward Jeremy, his tears spilling out his eyes and running down his smooth cheeks as he started to sob helplessly. This just egged the other boys on still more and they erotic lotita pedo pictures pelted him with bread and laughed at him. When he reached the steps up to the landing that held Jeremy and the Reverend Mother, he stopped and stood pleading up at them. "Please, sir," he begged. "I worked hard." Jeremy looked like he was ready to cry for the small boy, but he didn't. Just stood there looking down at him in sorrow. "Get up here," the Reverend Mother ordered, stepping down to grab the poor boy's skinny wrist and jerking him up onto the platform. "Please," the boy pleaded desperately, tears spilling down his face but too frightened to fight back. Jeremy stood off to the side and watched as the Reverend Mother unbuttoned the little boy's shirt. He just stood there and bawled and I felt like crying for him too. Many of the boys watched with as much sadness as I felt. An equal number were laughing and jeering at him for being such a cry baby. The woman jerked the ragged shirt over his shoulders and pulled them down his arms with little tenderness or affection. He was a very cute boy, with a small, soft chest and little nipples. He looked better fed than most of the boys, probably because he hadn't been in the orphanage very long. He started crying harder as the Reverend Mother untied his pants and roughly jerked them down his smooth, slender thighs. The boy's hairless penis fell out onto the round ball of his scrotum, looking as innocent and childish as mine did. Like Matthew's in the dorm, his penis head was invisible, nothing but pale, white skin running all the way from his hairless belly to the end of his smooth shaft. He didn't fight at all as she held his pants at the floor and his young feet stepped out of them. His hands did move between his legs and they held to his penis so that we couldn't see it anymore. All the while, he cried help- lessly. "Bend over the table," the Reverend Mother ordered the frightened boy. "No, please," his soprano voice b