Allow me to begin by saying that even before I became a vampire, I was leery of priests, pastors, paters, friars, and Priors. I found their actions and attitudes two-faced, at best, especially the one who established a monastery close to my village, Prior Pissant. Excuse me, Prior Pious. A trim monk in a robe of sackcloth who started slithering about when I was a child, begging for money, materials and workers for the construction of his long, tall, rather bleak-looking pile of stones.
I should point out this was near the end of the Eleventh Century, in England, when we were also providing men and arms for the Barons' and King's wars, and the Crusades. Not exactly a time of plenty for all.
For my village, it was all right. Being close to the monastery meant many townsmen worked on building it, but it was others in the village who made certain that those crippled while working on that foul building, or widows of those who died on it, went neither hungry nor without shelter. That was due in no small part to my father and mother, who had established my village once King William was secure on the throne.
Of course, only Normans were allowed to live here. Saxons were barely good enough to be serfs for our feudal lords, meaning they stayed closer to the castles. One can't be too absolute about treating humanity with decency and respect, despite what Jesus intended.
It took many years to remove this way of thinking from my mind, because as a child the world you live in is how the world should be, and far too often becomes more-so as you grow older.
Prior Pious, though seldom seen, was said to speak in tones that dripped of honey and seemed eternally young. He was always completely covered by his robes, hood to toe, woven from a plain rough form of wool, so on the few occasions where I saw him, all I really noticed were his sharp, hawk-like eyes. But like with any man of God, some were happy with him; some were not; most cared neither way, my parents being of this persuasion.
Three monks had accompanied him to help with the monastery, joined by three more over the years, and they were seen even less often than he was. On those occasions they also kept themselves fully wrapped in their robes, including their hoods. I don't recall them even being about on market day.
Prior Pious was the only one anybody dealt with, consistently, so some began to wonder if they were up to no good. Monks were not necessarily known for their piety and grace and having the prelate and his followers keep themselves apart from the town added to everyone's concerns. But...they were so very quiet, it began to seem as if they were not really there.
Still, curiosity about their goings-on was strong, so I once clambered up the scaffolding around the final wing of the building to see if I could catch a glimpse of what they were up to. I was able to report to my father that I saw two of the monks silently working at tall tables, writing something with quill and ink, in studious intensity. Both were completely robed so I had no description to share, but I did think it odd they would be working on their lessons instead of tending their garden and orchard.
My father nodded and explained they were not doing lessons or writing letters, but were transcribing, illustrating and binding books. As this required as much daylight as possible, it now made sense for them to focus on that while the sun was in the sky. He also told me that even on the warmest days, a stone building as large and shadow-filled as the monastery would probably still be cold to work in.
My mother saw to it that word quickly spread. The town became proud of the fact that something so wonderful was being made, close by. Many even thought that it was very appropriate to focus on such fine duties...so long as they did not interfere with their daily prayer routines, of course.
Monks must always still be monks.
They had an extensive garden and small orchard around the building, which they tended, but that was usually done late in the evening, during that golden time after sunset. Still covered in their robes, even on the warmest of days, one could catch glimpses of them hoeing the earth or working the fruit trees. And the quality of the herbs they produced was beyond measure. Pears rich and juicy. Cabbage heads fat and full. Carrots, leeks broad-beans, lentils, shallots, so many different sorts...all were much greater than those from any other garden in town.
Then as if to put a final exclamation point to their gentle natures and need for solitude, the Baron had a chapel built near the green and Bishop Odo assigned a regular priest to it. To celebrate its completion, Prior Pious gifted them a fine volume of the Bible, beautifully illustrated and bound in calfskin. My father, who could read Latin as well as Norman and Saxon, was allowed to look in it, and he assured everyone it was the finest copy that had ever been made. Being Meister of the village, he was believed.
My father also dealt with the Baron's men, whenever they deigned make an appearance, and had actually been to King William's Court. Twice. Adding to his stature in the village, my mother had made certain the King's troops were cared for at the same level as the horses, during the Norman conquest. As anyone could tell you, those beasts were far more important than a mere lance-man or archer. That many of those who remained in our village had a story to share about her making certain their son or father or husband or brother was tended to made her reputation inviolable.
My family had the nicest house in town, on the side closest to a thick forest. My father's profession was that of carpenter, because even in a village as well off as ours you could not feed your family on the stipend provided for that position. Building carts, tables, chairs, doors and even houses made certain we lived comfortably.
I had two sisters: Catherine, first-born and considered a great beauty with golden hair, like our father, and a manner befitting a haughty princess; and Gabrielle, third-born, with raven hair like our mother and a beauty all her own that was tempered by being quick to anger. She preceded me into vampire-hood by several years...but more on that, later.
All I recall of either of them was being treated as their personal serf until my twelfth summer, when they were called to work on a tapestry for Bishop Odo that was to commemorate the victory at Hastings. It was considered to be of such very great importance, to have both of them invited to assist added even more to my family's stature.
There was also Ollyn, eight summers ahead of me, being called to the King's Court. In what capacity, I never really did know. He was dark and stolid in ways considered attractive by many girls, but since he was gone by my tenth year, I recall nothing about him that could be considered special, in any way.
None of my siblings shared information with me, nor I them, mainly because I did not know how to read or write. Why was I never taught? I was never told. It was as if my parents had lavished so much education on my brother and sisters, all of whom carried a haughty manner meant to impress, that bothering to have simple, straightforward me learn reading, writing and summations was thought to be redundant. The only way I found out anything about their new lives was by way of letters sent by courier that were read aloud by father then laid into a chest of cedar.
And I truly was simple and straightforward, as so many in town would tell me. From an early age, I knew I would never be thought handsome, like my father and brother. Nor accomplished, like my sisters. Just adorable, like a puppy. As most would say when they ruffled my hair. It was light in color, like my father's, but my face being sculpted with a clean chin, fine cheekbones, and strong nose in good proportion to my head, put my appearance closer to my mother's. As did my lips being on the pouting side, giving me either a sad or a perturbed expression. Our eyes mimicked the color of grass and I wound up being tallest in the family, to the point I was able to look even a knight's horse in the eye. And since my father apprenticed me to his carpentry, I also built solid muscle and sturdy legs.
I mention all of this to show from whence I came. Because despite my family being well-connected, well-thought-of and well-monied, for the time, I was considered the town fool. Not due to anything I actually said or did, but for the mere fact that I keep to myself...much like Prior Pious's monks. I didn't play games with the other boys, nor did I share their incessant curiosity about everything. I didn't harass the girls, and I rarely spoke. Which everyone noticed, of course, and chose to believe that by being birthed close to when my mother would stop bringing new babies into the world, all of the intelligence and ability she had to offer her newborn had already been used up. Many felt it was fortunate she had already given the family a fine son and two daughters to carry on the line, considering my capacities.
It was as if I was an afterthought, to one and all.
Of course, my reputation for stupidity did not keep people from asking what girl I fancied or when I was getting married. As I would rarely answer, this merely added to the belief that I was a fool, or idiot, and even greater sympathy was presented to my parents for having birthed me. Which they accepted without thought, and which I honestly did not mind. For it added to my gentle blanket of solitude.
As did the nearby forest.
I loved to wander deep into it, drifting between the trees. Far too many felt wolves or evil beasts waited within to steal children away or ravage maidens. Every sound was a terror to them, but for me? For me, it was perfection. The elm and oak were of solid girth and well-spaced as they marched up and over hilltops, and they made a good source for tables, beds, stools and such. If I felled one right, I even could maneuver sections onto my cart without much effort and help my donkey ferry it to the shop, so had no need for a helper.
There were several quick brooks of crisp, clean water that twisted lightly through the forest glens to merge into a large pond. Beavers had constructed a dam at just the right spot. Thick reeds, ferns and ivy had sprung up along its banks, and now the stream danced over and through to flow down to a river and on to the sea.
I saw foxes, deer, rabbits and wolves pass me or watch as I passed, through the years, but none were bothered about me. I presume I was an afterthought to them, as well.
On some such occasions I heard voices drifting through the woods, indistinct but seemingly happy. I had tried to find where they came from, a few times, but the moment I would draw close to their source, they would vanish, like fairies in the evening mist. I would not have been surprised to find they were the little people mocking me.
But finally, near the beginning of my twentieth summer, I was seated at the base of a tree near the pond at a time when the sun was low in the sky. I had finished bringing down another elm and was having a late meal of cheese and bread, with some mead in a skin. The clearing was caught deep in the growing shadows of evening. My seat was a bed of ivy deep in shadow, and birds and butterflies danced about. I was neither thinking nor dreaming of anything. Merely enjoying the cool breeze with the first hints of warmth to it.
Until I saw Prior Pious' six monks appear, across the pond, wearing their robes but with their hoods back, revealing unshaved heads. That struck me as odd; I thought all monks shaved the top of their skulls. They were chuckling and whispering and jostling each other like the best of friends.
And grabbing at each other in ways quite intimate.
I froze, for I had not heard them approach, and remained as still as I could. I noticed each was close to perfect, in his own manner. Two had the same hair as I, perhaps lighter in shade, but one's face was lean and carried the nonstop appearance of amusement, with a fine nose and dancing eyes, while the other was pert and had eyes that were almost wary. He was also stockier and a bit shorter than his companion. The other four were varying shades of dark-haired, with faces that were of a tone more touched by the sun, and they ranged from round and joyous to neatly shaped to sharply-angled and hard, even when smiling. What was even more surprising? All appeared to be but a few years older than myself.
Then they dropped their robes.
And they wore nothing underneath, not even loincloths, their bodies were all taut and strong and well-formed in a variety of ways that I found breathtaking.
I had long since realized I was fortunate in having family, friends and neighbors who thought me only stupid and nothing more. For there were feelings stirring within me that I knew would have placed me outside the realm of what was considered normal and acceptable to any of them. Had I even thought to mention the real reason I was not yet married, I would have been accused of a far worse crime than being the village idiot.
And that crime? Wanting to join with a man instead of a woman, in my bed. There had been a scandal but a few years earlier regarding a knight and his page, leading to the deaths of them both, and our priest had lectured on their evil ways more than once, in his sermons. So I had remained cloaked in the town's belief that I was simply an idiot.
But right then? Right then I reveled in how, while these young men were only vaguely alike in body and spirit, not one had an appearance that was displeasing to me.
The first one I noticed was taller and smoother than I, his blond hair simple and straight, and with golden down on his chest and belly. His legs sloped in a clean line down to his feet, and he strode like a little god amongst them, laughing, before finally revealing his rear was perfect for his body.
The stockier one who sported hair like mine was not as smooth but had broad shoulders, solid hips and legs, and a quiet aura of strength that was exciting. And when he grinned, his face took on the aura of an imp about to play a joke on them all.
One with nearly black hair dove straight into the water in a way that was elegance defined. He was round and full...not portly, not fat, not sloppy, but well-proportioned with maybe a little extra weight that looked just right on him. His chest, belly and legs were laid over with smooth featherings of hair that seemed combed into perfection.
Following him was a man who was solid and powerful, lean like a knight should be, and almost hairless. His block-like visage under short, straight brown locks had a pair of eyes that promised the world.
The other two were also devoid of fat and un-shapeliness, but were in fine proportion. The darker-haired of them had a face so perfectly drawn, it was impossible to take your eyes way from him, with a body like it was chiseled from stone while the other was younger, his face longer but elegant with an amused interest in his eyes.
As for what was between their legs, those lances ranged from nicely-sized to unbelievable. I was jealous of not only that but their buttocks being so well-shaped and...and...
Oh, wait, wait, wait, wait...I'm growing lost in trying to remember the names of things from back then.
Which is silly.
From this point, I will use only modern jargon for what I saw. It makes for greater ease in telling the story and is so much better in its descriptive abilities. I tend to forget how coy we used to be with references to genitals.
So...two blonds and four brunets, all gorgeous, looking like something out of a modern pornography shoot, with dicks and balls bouncing around, none of which were to be embarrassed about. They splashed into the pond to dip under the surface and dive about and grab each other in ways I had only seen married couples do. Water whipped from their hair and trailed down their fine forms, washing away any vestige of dirt and grime attached by their labors, making their skin gleam in ways far lovelier than human.
As for their dicks...they grew larger than I had thought possible. And harder. At the time, to suggest this was erotic would have been beyond my awareness or understanding...mentally. Emotionally, I was breathless.
And also getting pretty damned hard, myself.
Then the tall smooth blond stood waist deep in the water and kissed the almost hairless brunet one, having to bend over to reach him, and another of the brown-haired ones slipped up from behind to slide his hands around his belly. The smooth blond stretched up, raising his arms to the heavens, water cascading from them and down them, as the one behind him slipped his hands up to pinch at his tits, causing him to squirm and gasp for joy.
Suddenly, the blond's legs were up and resting on the shoulders of the one he had kissed, bringing all but his ass out of the water, letting his dick flop back in all its beauty and readiness...and the brunet had dipped down to...to...
He had wrapped the blond's dick in his mouth!
And...and was pulling on it with his lips!
The blond stretched, even more, raising his perfect ass from within the water and bending his head back enough to where he could kiss the one behind him...and he wrapped his arms around the brown-haired one's head as the man cupped his ass and kneaded his cheeks and...and...
I could not breathe, I was so lost in the wonder of the image before me...and oh, how I wanted to be that blond.
The other blond, the sturdier one, was enjoying wrestling with the two other brunets until he broke away from them to swim backwards, face up, his dick fat and hard and erect as water swirled around it and his powerful legs kicked and he called, "First to catch me, gets me..."
They both splashed after him, but with none of his grace.
Then I heard the first blond groan and looked over in time to see the one sucking on his dick had pulled back and...and it was spurting cum into the air. The blond was all but yelling from pleasure, as the second one mauled his ass and showed his own dick was ready to be treated in the same way and...and...
I jolted to my feet, in shock.
They all looked at me, stunned...and vanished. As if they had never been there. Almost like I had been dreaming. I actually stumbled around, looking in a circle to see if I could tell where they had gone, but the forest sounds were unabated, and there was no indication anyone had passed close by. I began to think I had just imagined it all.
Except...
The water was stirred and rushing up on the pond's banks. Nothing had fallen into it, and the breeze was not strong enough to cause that...so something had to have been in it.
Or someone.
I forced myself to remain still. The whole tableaux had been so joyous to behold...so real and alive...I was still erect. Still tingling from the pleasure of seeing them...until an odd sense of need washed over me and I ejaculated into my breeches.
Without touching myself.
That had never happened, before.
I leaned against the tree. This had to have been a dream. I reminded myself I had seen the six monks, in their robes, hoods up as they tended their fields and trees, not two weeks past. It was ridiculous to think there could be that many lovely young men concentrated at that one monastery. Yes, it had to have been a dream.
I almost talked myself into lying down to see if I could return to it. But I had the feeling of eyes on me, watching me, so gathered my things, threw them in the cart and headed back to the shop. And the whole way, a new truth tingled behind my heart.
I wanted to be one with men like that. Have men hold me and use me, like that blond had been. Of course, wanting to have this meant I would need to be careful so the priest didn't know about it and couldn't use it to hurt me. Just the thought of being sneaky and avoiding any confrontation regarding this new reality of mine brought a sense of purpose to me. Of desire. Of need. I decided to find some way of approaching the monks, when next I saw them in their field, to see if any of them truly were as beautiful as the six in my dream had been.
Something told me I would not be disappointed.
