“Kneel to me.”

Ernst understood what the Domkapelmeister—choir master—of Stephensdom, St. Stephen’s Cathedral, in Vienna, was directing him to do. It wasn’t a request and it wasn’t any part of a religious ceremony.

The fourteen-year-old boy soprano went down on his knees in the sacristy of the cathedral in the interval between mass and the practice of the cathedral’s treble boys’ choir. Ernst was the principle soloist for the choir, having the sweetest, most velvety voice of all of the boy choristers in the city in the first decade of the nineteenth century.

The boy lifted up the hem of choir master Brother Albert’s cassock, finding he was only wearing a loose undergarment underneath from which his erection was already protruding. The boy opened his mouth over the cock and gave it suck while the priest ran his fingers into the curls of the beautiful blond-haired, blue-eyed angel’s head and slowly rocked his hips as he fucked the boy’s throat.

Ernst was getting old for the treble choir and it wouldn’t be long before the boy’s voice changed. He would not be lost as a singer then, but he would need to go to a different choir, one somewhere else other than the ones at Stephensdom. The choir master had worked hard to find a new home and arrangement for the boy. His only regret was that he couldn’t go further with the angel in intimacy than what they were doing now—the boy giving him head. Brother Albert had a good idea where Ernest would move on to, and the benefactor there would want to receive the boy as a virgin to anal taking. The baron wanted his boys young, but he wanted to initiate them himself.

Brother Albert had become frustrated that he couldn’t do more with Ernst, who was yielding, having been indoctrinated into an understanding that this was what Austrian church choir boys did with their choir masters and benefactors in that time. He almost looked forward to a change coming in the boy’s voice. He already had his next boy soloist picked out.

In less than an hour, it had happened. They were in the choir loft of Stephensdom. The benefactor Brother Albert had been negotiating with over Ernest—as Albert had no intention of giving such an angel up without being paid for it—Baron Otto von Lauffen, a meister in Bad Goisern, in the mountains toward Salzburg—was there, in the cathedral, listening to the choir. Ernst was giving a solo. Ernst’s father was also there. Negotiations were under way in the pews of the nave between him and the baron as well.

Everything was in the early negotiations stage. Nothing was meant to be decided that day. But this was the day. This was the day that Ernst’s voice first cracked, in a public setting, as he had reached and was trying to sustain a high A.

The music stopped. Everyone in the cathedral held their breaths.

“Again,” Brother Albert, the Domkapelmeister said, almost in a whisper. “We will try it again.” But, because of the purposeful acoustics in the choir loft, the whisper was heard throughout the cathedral.

The music started again. This time Ernst soared up to the high A and sustained the tone. But the die was cast. Reality had arrived. The sweet, angelic tone of boy soprano’s voice was changing. He was fourteen. He would still be a high tenor and he could be trained to control the voice. He just could not sing in the Stephensdom’s treble boys’ choir any longer.

In the nave, the baron and Ernst’s father were in deep discussion. At the end of the choir practice, Brother Albert came down from the choir and joined the discussion. Two hours later, Ernst’s bags were packed and he was being handed up into the baron’s carriage for the three-day, 215 kilometer coach ride from Vienna to Bad Goisern. The first night’s stop would be Krieglach on the Murz River.

The carriage had cleared the outskirts of Vienna and was making good time on the road. The interior of the coach was dark, the baron and the boy sitting on the facing benches, the boy looking out of window in the carriage door, never having been this far out of Vienna before. He was wide eyed, taking it all in, somewhat confused by how fast it was happening.

He did, however, realize what was happening and, far from being frightened by more than getting on with it, he’d been anticipating it for some time.

He was not confused about what was expected of him now. That had been fully explained. In fact, the trajectory of his life had been spelled out for him his entire life. It was not what he had wanted for himself that would be a problem—not the bedding by men part; that did not disturb him. He was conditioned to take that as his lot in life because of his beautiful voice and his beautiful body and his family’s position in life. But in some ways he felt cursed by having had a beautiful boy’s soprano voice. He was more interested in painting—in art—and he thought he was good at it. His family thought he was good at it too, but there were far fewer prospects for artists in Vienna as there were for church choir and opera vocalists.

So, his lot was to have his singing voice cultivated in exchange for letting a sponsor use his body.

The baron was leaning forward in his seat in the carriage, hands and chin perched on the knob of his cane, watching the boy, observing the beautiful angelic boy’s display of wonder at the world around him. As he watched, he was aroused, and the time came that he unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, extracted his erection, and stroked himself.

Ernst saw him do this, but he didn’t react adversely or with fear. He didn’t know when the baron would use him for the first time, but he knew what the arrangements were and what he was to do in exchange for the man’s sponsorship and protect.

Here, now, in this rumbling carriage, the baron used him for the first time.

“Come here, Ernst,” the baron said from the shadows across from where the boy was seated. “Come give me homage and service.”

Ernst crossed the sort distance between the seats, went down on his knees between the baron’s spread thighs, and took the man’s cock in his mouth and throat. This was not new to him; he had been doing this for Brother Albert for months. As the boy gave suck, the baron undressed him, rendering the boy naked. Being rendered naked was new to the boy, and he began to pant.

“You are a beautiful angel, a virginal angel,” baron whispered and then proceeded to debauch the boy.

He pulled Ernst up with strong hands, pulling the boy’s groin all the way up to the man’s mouth. Ernst lay back into the man’s grasp, his torso arching back, his feet lifted off the carriage floor, his head hanging back, his arms dangling at his side, moaning and panting, as the baron held his naked body in front of him and feasted on the boy’s small cock and balls and tongued his virginal hole until it was open enough to accommodate his need.

When he felt the boy prepared enough, He slowly brought the boy’s body down and onto his erection, obtaining position, and then as the boy cried out and panted and groaned and writhed within the man’s embrace, the passage was penetrated, invaded, stretched. Panting a moaning, the boy yielded all. Grasping Ernst’s waist between his hands, the still-fully clothed man other than the projection of the shaft from the fly of the trousers, lifted and pulled, raised and forced down, the boy’s virginal channel on the long, thick, throbbing, hungry cock ... until hips tensed and jerked, the man gave a little cry of his own, juices flowed...

... and Ernst was a virgin to anal cocking by men no longer.

The baron released the boy, letting him retreat across to the other bench and curl up in the corner. It wasn’t long, though, before the man was in heat again for the angel and he crossed over, ran his hands up the boy’s smooth-skinned legs, coaxing the legs open, lay on top of the boy, and fucked him again. And then, not too much later, again as the carriage rumbled along toward the baron’s mountain castle.

At the inn they stopped at in Krieglach the first night, the baron sent Ernst to bed in the room the baron had engaged while he remained in the tavern downstairs, drinking beer, and giving the men drinking with him the thrill of raising mugs with a baron. When he came upstairs in the dark, Ernst was asleep, lying on his side, facing the wall. He wasn’t asleep for long, though.

The baron stripped and climbed into bed, turning to the boy, running an arm under him, and pulling Ernst into his body. For several minutes he explored the perfect little body with him hands, pulling off the undergarments the boy was sleeping in. The boy wasn’t sleeping for long, though. He woke with the baron’s hands on him and the baron’s erection poking in his back. The boy sighed and let the man turn and manipulate him at will. Signaling his total surrender, the boy reached back and took the baron’s shaft in his trembling hand, slowly stroking it as the baron’s hands worked his small body.

“So small. So beautiful. So yielding,” the man whispered.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the boy responded.

The baron’s hands centered on the boy’s genitals, causing the boy to pant and moan. He moved the boy’s left leg up into the boy’s chest and his hand went to rubbing Ernst’s anal entrance. The boy moaned deeper. The fingers of the baron’s hand penetrated, spreading the hole, opening the boy up. Ernst almost imperceptibly rocked his hips on the hand. A connoisseur of breaking in fourteen-year-old boys, the baron knew when he had reached the point of penetration.

Ernst groaned as the baron’s left leg was raised over the boy’s hips and Otto turned his body toward the boy. He used two fingers to spread the boy’s hole, and Ernst panted harder as the bulb of the baron’s erection settled in place. He penetrated, withdrew the fingers, and embraced the boy tightly, as he sank in, grunted, and began the dance of the fuck. The movement started slow but became more vigorous until Otto fired off and, with a sigh, turned back onto his back and went to sleep. While he was pumping, he had grasped Ernst’s small cock, which wasn’t small anymore, and he beat the boy off.

As the baron snored, Ernst remained awake for some time, staring at the wall, assessing the pain in his channel, noting that, as he was told would be the case, there was less pain now and the time would come when there was some pleasure in this act.