Alfons delivered another tankard of beer to the well-dressed gentleman seated at the best table, near the fireplace. It still ranked as the best, with the most substantial chair, even though the table was functionally only the best in the winter, when a fire was going, not now, in high summer. When he set the beer down, the man grabbed Alfons's hand and didn't let it go for the longest moment. Their eyes met, and Alfons shuddered.
There was something demanding and controlling in the nearly obsidian eyes of the dark-complexioned, dark-eyed man with the swarthy goatee beard. Beyond that there was an aspect of the fox or wolf about him. He was handsome and not above thirty, but he was a man of darkness and of the shadows—all dressed in black other than the lace at his wrist that denoted a man of importance and wealth. After a moment, though, he released Alfons, the expression on his face changing from a piercing assessing look to a sly smile, almost a sneer, and he slightly bowed his head to the server.
Alfons turned away, finding eye contact difficult to break, but needed elsewhere in the tavern room. The inn's taproom was crowded that evening. The blond, openly sunny, boyish visage of the young man was a sharp contrast to the vulpine aspect of the man sitting in the shadows by the fireplace. The man's eyes followed Alfons around the tavern. The next time Alfons had a moment to locate the man in the room, the seat by the fireplace having been vacated, was when he saw him talking in low tones to the Innkeeper, to whom Alfons was indentured, by the bar. The two men were looking at Alfons as they spoke. Alfons blushed, having a good idea what the discussion was about.
The walled town of Rottenburg am Necker in the fifteenth century was a prosperous German market town, catering to many styles and preferences. A man looking for a tavern or inn accommodating his personal comfort and interests could find one without difficulty. The inn to which Alfons was indentured, having recently been brought into service, was one that catered to men interested in other men. It was Alfons's androgynous beauty and affable disposition that had led to his indenture being sold to Hermann Eberle. Alfons had orally served men before, but it was his virginity to anal penetration that had piqued Eberle's interest in purchasing his indenture and husbanding the young man's initiation.
Eberle wanted his investment back in double, and there were few men capable to paying that in Rottenburg. It would likely have to a rich nobleman or merchant passing through Rottenburg, in high need and of special interests, who would be the first to master Alfons.
Tonight was the night.
Alfons wasn't surprised to see the two men talking earnestly and letting their eyes pick him out as he moved about the tavern, taking orders and serving steins of beer. From the look the man had given him and when the man had held his hand moments longer than was necessary, Alfons had figured he would be in some nook or cranny, on his knees to the man. That could happen once or twice on any given night in the tavern—and he wasn't the only serving man here serving more than beer.
The fox man left by the door out into the stable yard, and Hermann called Alfons over. "The man who was just here is the Count Franz von Türbingen, an important and wealthy man. He wants you to join him in the stable now."
"He wishes me to go on my knees to him?" Alfons asked.
"No. He wishes for you to present your buttocks to him, Alfons. He will mount you. He has paid a high price to be your first."
Alfons began to tremble and lower his face in fear and embarrassment.
"Don't withdraw from it, lad," Eberle hissed, placing a hand on Alfons's arm. "You knew that was what you were indentured here for. You have gone unmounted longer than most. The count has paid a large sum from your chastity. He has bought you for two nights. He has a room at the inn, but he wants to mount you first in the stable. You will stay with him for two days and you will lie under him as he wishes. You will not bring questions on this inn of our reputation from what can be bought here. If you do not give him satisfaction, I will whip you within an inch of your life and give you to the beggars on the street for sport. You should be happy that your first time will be with a clean nobleman. After this, you will take whoever pays a much lower price, I assure you."
The count fucked Alfons over a saddle stand in the stables, Alfons's torso draped over one side, his face staring at the loose hay on the rough-wooden planks of the flooring, his arms hanging down, knuckles dragging on the hay, wrists bound with leather strips, and his mouth gagged with the count's belt fastened around his head to keep the noise down. Alfons still produced muffled cries and huffed and puffed the pain of the first breaching of his sphincter muscle by the slow, but relentless invasion of the count's staff as he crouched over the young man from behind, held Alfons's hips between his hands, and insistently bottomed out with his cock before he plowed and seeded Alfons for the first time. The count wasn't appreciably long or thick—not that Alfons was in the position to have comparisons to gauge—but he was cruel considering it was Alfons's first time, giving the young virgin little time to prepare for and open to him before he was forcing himself inside. This aspect of forcing a virgin ass seemed to be the man's primary interest in paying the extra fee to be able to do so.
Alfons struggled against him initially, which Von Türbingen seemed to enjoy, but as the pain receded and a certain pleasure started to creep in, Alfons settled down, and with a thought to the threats his master had hissed at him, submitted to the plowing. Yes, he'd known this day was coming. Yes, Eberle was right that it was better from a man of position and breeding than from the usual rough workman who came to the tavern. Yes, after this, it
would
be rough workman.
Toward the eventual moment of seeding of the man inside him, his cock steel hard, throbbing, and rapidly digging into Alfons's quick, Alfons succumbed to his own nature and began to move his pelvis, falling into the rhythm of the thrusts of Von Türbingen's shaft. The count laughed, slapped Alfons on the bare buttocks, and released his seed.
The fucking of the next two nights in the privacy of the count's bed in the inn was a time of adjustment by Alfons to the inevitable and learning from the count what a man of refinement wanted from a beautiful young man underneath him, which included Franz holding Alfons in a close embrace and stroking off the young man's cock beyond Alfons's endurance to resist shooting off his own seed. After this, the count would want Alfons to lie between his thighs and make love to his cock—and then to saddle himself on the count's pelvis and ride the staff.
By the time Franz was in the courtyard, mounting his horse, and bidding Alfons farewell, the young man was clinging to the saddle, not wanting his new master to leave him—fearful and anxious about what came after this when he no longer had a single patron.
"Oh, we will meet again, you and I," the count said before he cruelly spurred his horse in the flank and lurched out onto the road in front of the inn.
In the succeeding weeks, Alfons learned just how refined the count had been. He no longer was a valuable commodity, his chastity intact. He was given over to any man willing to pay double the price of a suck, and he lay under a progression of men who smelled, were animals, and took him in every rough way they could imagine.
Thus it was a godsend when the innkeeper, Hermann Eberle, received a letter from the Count Franz Von Türbingen, with a significant amount of money enclosed, engaging Alfons's services in the larger town of Türbingen two day's horse ride to the northeast of Rottenburg to stay for a month's time.
When the innkeeper's wife saw the letter, she said, "A pity the young man cannot go, as it would require a journey through the accursed forest of Höllewald."
