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The holy inquisition culled a million of intellectual adults and left thousands of orphans on the streets - but only one of them was clever enough to get revenge!
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
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BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich1 - Happiness and Tragedy
1 - Happiness and Tragedy
I grew up on a huge estate in the hills behind Avignon, our mansion was big, built in the traditional roman style with an atrium in the middle and convenient floor heating. The gardens around it were well maintained and decorated with marble statues of naked nymphs and horny satyrs. There were barns - now mostly empty - and a lillipond for a skinny dip on a hot summers day. We were stuck in a brutal war between the Church and the unbelievers, not fought with cannons or guns but with poisoned words and lies.
About a year ago my beautiful mother was brutally burnt on a stake by the inquisition, accused of being a witch. She was a fine doctor and a talented healer, not always along the ignorant lines of the doctrine of the church, trying out new medications and procedures for the benefit of humanity. Intelligent women were the enemy number one to a chauvinistic scheme of stupefying people into total obedience by brutal force, to call them all devils and to kill them in the name of God. If blasphemy really existed, the Church itself was clearly the master at it!
My father and me cried bitter tears for weeks, but that didn't bring her back. Since then we limited our contacts to the outside world to the necessary minimum. He taught me all about Sophokles, Socrates and hippocrats. He told me about Jesus the revolutioner, about his extremely Buddhist philosophies and his failed execution in Jerusalem for opening his mouth to wide against the roman oppression. About his lucky escape and dangerous travel to France to sustain his noble bloodline. And about the clever way the Church propagated him as a martyr to support their own oppression to make people humble and pay! And that we Sanguini's were true descendants of Jesus.
Our only two servants left strangely were gipsies from jewish descent - the slayers of the son of God - but were not treated as slaves in our house. Imma meticulously looked after the household whilst her son Abu cared with enthusiasm for the surroundings. Imma admired my father, and since the murder of his wife cared for him and comforted him with the greatest gentleness. I was sure that on secret occasions they would share the same bed for a while! She was a gifted cook and knew how to create much from little - and found herbs and spices all around the place. And she was like a mother to me.
Abu taught me everything about snaring rabbits, netting fowls and identifying edible mushrooms. He taught me how to use the sling shot and how to shoot an arrow from a bow. We were the same age, but he was practical where I was intellectual - we completed each other perfectly. We flew kites together on the hill and swum naked in the lilly pond - we were happy. But Abu had no illusions and knew, that he was caught in the wrong country at the wrong time, where every new day was a gift, and the bitter end was not worthwhile worrying about! I loved him very much - he was my only friend.
And of course we touched each other! His skin was a smooth coffee brown while mine was milky white. His eyes were from a lustrous walnut color while mine were as grey as a cloudy day. His circumcised penis was showing the pink glans where my foreskin hid mine from the sun. And of course we played with each other, tried to get each other hard, and Abu liked it when my little plum appeared from the fleshy cover to have a look at the day! Soon, the pleasure of an orgasm was no secret to us anymore, and we took turns of masturbating each other and loved to see the sperm fly . . .
But then as it was to expect: One misty morning the knights of the Church burst into the house with their holy swords and lances, bound us all and led us away in our pajamas, just to humiliate us from the start. It all happened like in a dream, we didn't talk all the way down to town in the back of a dirty cattle cart, locked in the cage like beasts from the wild. I think, that we all had awaited that situation with enough premeditation to be prepared. In the courtyard of the prison we were rudely separated, never to see each other again. In times of stress the heart contracts - and the tears flow much later.
My cell was small and dirty with moldy straw on the floor. Jerome the warden was fat and ugly, and he stunk strongly from sour wine and rotten garlic, and his last bath must have happened in the last century! Screaming and howling echoed through the dungeon like I was caught in a den of wolves. All the evil smells of the world were mixed in here together to a poisonous gas, and the black putrid smoke of the numerous tar torches rendered the air unbreathable. But smelly Jerome seemed to be happy with his new charge: the pretty pale but noble pyjama boy!
Of course he had to search me for hidden knives or other implements performing suicide, a dead prisoner couldn't be tortured! I had to place my hands high over my head onto the grimy wall while he dug around in the pajama pants. He checked my little buttocks carefully with both hands, pulling and parting them with obvious joy. I got nervous when he explored the moist crack between them without inhibition. He fingered my anus for a while what made my dickel start, and he squeezed my ball bag with a passion that made my dickel jump up for inspection.
Jerome grunted behind me when he moved his hands in my pants around my naked hips to the front and found solid flesh. He pulled my foreskin right back to tease the exposed plum - and I had to let him! There were a hundred young boys dying out there every day by denying their sexual services to the horny men of the Holy Church! And another few hundred got shafted up their ass daily by perverted monks and priests. Jesus endured ninety nine lashes - I could easily endure such erotic torture without feeling guilty and just to survive.
He certainly was an expert at milking young prisoners, and his manipulations showed purpose. Without haste or urgency he massaged my dickel to maximum size and into a painful erection just by twitching and pinching the stretched and highly sensitive skin of the tight plum on top. My thighs tensed, a sharp pain shot up into my groin to activate the pump, and I came like never before, fire was running through my whole body as if to cleanse me from the sin of getting masturbated. Jerome had made me come right into my pajama pants, but then the order came by an orderly, that I had to be presented to the court of the inquisition immediately.
