Standing on the floor below the bed, the man held his smaller, fourteen-year-old prey belly down on the mattress, feet dangling off the floor, his toes scrunching up to the cadence of the man’s cock thrusts up his ass channel. The struggling, writhing, short bursts of sobs, and begging for relief that didn’t come were over. The peasant boy, the pruner of grape vines, Paulo, lay under the thrusting man fucking him in the dog position on the ornate, four-poster bed in the luxuriously furnished bedroom, his arms stretched over his head, and his hands being held in thrall to the surface of the bed by the wrist grabs of the larger, older, heavier man.

The man was big, thick, demanding inside him. He’d been sensitive to working a virgin when he’d begun, but as the man got saddled, he got excited and forgot himself. He became lost in the lust of the fuck of a small boy.

Paulo lay docile now, the deed done; his male cherry plucked; his cheek to the sheets; his face, all evidence of expression except for the pained grimace from the deflowering erased, turned toward the hall doorway. There, the second man—Matteo, the hulking, muscular master of the winery’s vines who had brought him here—stood, leaning into the doorway, drinking ruby-red wine straight from an unlabeled bottle, and watching Paulo lose his virginity to men. A wad of euros rested on the top of the nearby bureau to be distributed between the procurer and the boy later. Matteo would, of course, have done this for his master, Count Luigi, unrewarded, at least in money, but the count wanted the arrangement to continue, so he was generous.

The attention focused on the fuck as it intensified. The panting, grunts, and thrusts became more vigorous and rapid. The count was not a young man, but he was still virile and he was full of lust for boys.

Paulo cried out, “Oh, merda. Oh, cazzo!—Oh, shit. Oh, fuck,” and collapsed as he came from his cock head rubbing over the sheets under him.

Count Luigi cuffed the boy on the ear. “Bada a quello che dici a casa mia, ragazzo!—watch what you say in my house, boy,” he growled.

The man stroked on for less than a moment until he, too, came in a series of jerks and ejaculations. He came deep in Paulo’s core. He had barebacked, the enjoyment of which he’d paid extra for. That was the whole point of this encounter. He was paying for a virgin—to debauch and have his way with a fourteen-year-old virginal boy.

That Paulo was a virgin was a technicality on the margin. No, he hadn’t had the cock of a man inside his anal passage before. But Paulo had been well prepared over the previous few weeks for this to happen, including the use of a dildo, by Matteo. The master of the vines had picked the impressionable boy out, awed him with his magnificent, muscular body, and given the peasant boy, whose world barely extended beyond the needs of the vineyard, attention and appreciation. He had cultivated the boy, taking him to under the olive trees at the end of the grape rows after work, settling him on a blanket, with wine, and teaching him the ways of a man with a boy. But he had done so only up to a point. Paulo would have happily gone further—he worshipped Matteo—but Matteo had other plans for the boy. Matteo gave special services to Count Luigi up at the villa overlooking the vineyard.

The boy wasn’t being forced. He had agreed to this in principle. He just hadn’t fully thought out how momentous the occasion would be.

The attention and training Matteo had given Paulo had made the first-time experience taking a man’s cock easier for Paulo and more lucrative for them both. Paulo hadn’t been told—until very near to this time—that he was being prepared for sale to an older man—in fact, sold to the patrician owner of the vineyard. But the boy couldn’t say he wasn’t willingly being prepared for mounting. And, like Matteo, the count’s family was so important in this region that Paulo would have gone under him without monetary reward. The count’s family owned people like Paulo who lived under the family’s sufferance.

With a grunt, Count Luigi pulled off Paulo and moved over to the glass door out onto a French balcony. He was a bit heavy in his older age, but he had aristocratic bearing, tall stature, the form of an athlete who still worked at staying in shape, a handsome face of classic Italian nobility, and the cock and balls of a bull. He showed no embarrassment at moving and standing in the nude. He was quite imposing in the sunlight at the glass door. He grabbed a Toscano Nobile cheroot and a lighter off the bureau in passing and stood, leaning into the doorframe of the glass door, gazing into the rolling hills of the Tuscan vineyard below him, smoking, stroking his still half-hard cock with a hand, and reveling in his satisfaction of still being able to take his pleasure this way. A rustling sound from the bed caused him to turn. Matteo had moved from the hall doorway to the bed and turned a moaning Paulo onto his back.

The count liked the exotic and a slight element of the cruel. Matteo knew he did and served both the count’s fetish and voyeur interests. Upon reaching the boy on the bed, the muscular master of the vines had embraced Paulo securely and turned him so that the count could clearly see the action that now ensued. Matteo had brought the wine bottle with him, and he was using it on the boy. Paulo was panting hard and sobbing as Matteo held him securely, with the boy’s ankle on his shoulder so that Count Luigi had a full view of the vine master fucking the boy with the wine bottle.