Thus began William’s new life. Cropper insisted he should live with his new mentor and, without Craven to object, William had very little choice. So he packed up his clothes, left behind the bed that had never known his body for a full night’s rest, and moved into Cropper’s rooms.
Not that he slept in Cropper’s bed. At least not every night. William soon discovered that his role as a student wolf really differed very little from Andrew’s as hart, except that his body was off limits to the other boys. That, of course, didn’t stop him from pleasuring them, and Cropper actively encouraged him to perfect his ‘oral skills’. There were times when William seriously considered taking holy orders because even a priest must spend less time on his knees.
So his nights were spent with Brutus, Brolly, Lyall, Cropper and occasionally alone on the small cot in Cropper’s private bedroom, where he buried himself under the covers and tried not to listen as the occupants of the bed rutted heartily into the early hours.
His days followed pretty much the same routine as every other boy’s in the school. Lessons from nine until two then, after lunch – with Cropper and often in bed – two hours of other activities, music, literature, art, sports, even sciences for those who felt inclined, all designed to compliment the Latin, Greek and mathematics which filled the majority of their time. William opted for literature and poetry, and began jotting down verses of his own in a journal he kept under his pillow.
Evenings were always spent in Cropper’s study, sitting at the huge desk and working on his prep for the following day’s lessons. Or sitting at Cropper’s feet while the older boy worked at the desk and took advantage of William’s mouth while he studied.
And there was always some one around to help. It turned out Brolly was a whiz at Latin, and knowing exactly how to get Cropper to come in the shortest possible time, and tutored William in both. Brutus presented William with his first blade, taught him to fence, and made sure he came during the twice weekly cleansings, and the things Lyall couldn’t do with numbers and his hands weren’t worth knowing.
Every Sunday, after chapel, William wrote to his mother, telling her how well he was doing, and Cropper would check his grammar before sealing up the letter and making sure it made it into the penny post.
The major problem, from William’s point of view, was the loneliness. After Andrew was sent back to Jones, he had no one of his own age to talk to. Not that Andrew spoke to him much before that, but at least William had the illusion of someone to confide in, even if the person listening refused to look him in the eye and talk back.
When the horse chestnuts were ripe, Cropper took him to collect the fruit and he came back with a pouch full of the best and biggest he could find, excited and determined to bake them hard and be champion by All Saints Day. A few days later he tipped them away, having discovered that there was little fun to be had with conkers when none would play with you and your only friends considered themselves above such sports.
He sat alone in every lesson, right at the front of the class, with Jones and Salomon behind him, while his old friends looked straight through him and walked past without acknowledging William’s existence.
It hurt, but William plastered over his broken heart with a brave smile and told himself that, when he was free, he would make sure his old friends regretted treating him so badly.
Except Elijah. William couldn’t bring himself to hate Elijah. When they ran into each other at Jake’s Hole, fetching and carrying for the bigger boys, William would try to engage the other boy in conversation. Sometimes with some success, so long as he restricted his questions to lessons they shared and the performance of the house football team. Then William would inadvertently mention Brutus or Cropper or enquire after Elijah’s father and Elijah would look at him with liquid eyes as though suddenly remembering who it was he spoke to and turn away sadly leaving William feeling more alone than ever before.
*
The only other issue came to a head after about a month, in the bedroom, with William riding Cropper for all he was worth, red-faced and sweaty, and trying to convince his body that this was sufficient. It wasn’t. It never was. And Cropper was starting to take it as a personal affront.
“Enough,” Cropper said, using his grip on William’s hips to reinforce the order. “Honestly, boy, I don’t know what is wrong with you.”
“If you’d just let me touch,” William answered, his hands straying towards his cock. One touch, that was all it would take, he was certain. It ached, his balls ached. He’d been on the edge for so long, his body shook with it.
Cropper slapped them away with an icy glare. “I have never had a boy yet who couldn’t learn and I refuse to concede defeat,” he said and then called for Brutus.
William lifted up, intent on dismounting before the other boy arrived, but Cropper would have none of it. Thus he remained, the flush of exhaustion rapidly replaced by a blush when Brutus entered the room and flung himself down next to Cropper on the bed.
“Problem?” Brutus enquired with a smirk in William’s direction.
“He won’t come and I can’t decide if it is sheer stubbornness or some lack of wit.”
“I’m trying to, I swear!” William insisted from behind his hands, certain he would catch fire any moment from the heat of his humiliation. It was silly, really. Brutus had seen all his body could do and yet, sitting impaled on Cropper’s cock while a conversation went on around him, was more than he could bear.
“Just admit it, William. You’re simply the most obstinate creature in creation and refuse to give Cropper the satisfaction.”
It was said with such gravity that William had to peer at Brutus’ face to see if he was joshing. He was. Those eyes that could flay the flesh from your body with a mere look were dancing with glee.
Sticking out his bottom lip in a pout that would have earned him a spanking from mama, William dropped his hands to Cropper’s chest and said, “’Tis I that is lacking satisfaction. Cropper finds it regularly in my mouth and arse.”
His show of childish petulance reduced both the older boys to howls of amusement, Brutus laughing so hard there were tears on his cheeks by the time he recovered enough to ruffle William’s hair and say, “He’s a treasure to be sure, Cropper. You did right in taking him over.”
Cropper grinned and folded his arms behind his head, flexing his hips enough to make William gasp and steady himself. “He is at that,” he said, “though apparently an unfulfilled one.”
“Ride him then, lad,” Brutus said, in all seriousness, and William complied, burying his embarrassment in pride at the approval both boys had shown.
It took him a few minutes to work back to the point of coming and, as usual, when he got there, his body hovered on the cusp, unwilling to back away from such pleasure and yet unable to topple off the edge into sweet oblivion. Brutus allowed it to continue, making suggestions to Cropper about angles and rhythm, and bringing William close to tears with frustration.
Finally Brutus, now kneeling next to them, touched William’s side indicating he stop again and said, “Lift up a little.”
When William did as he was told, Brutus slid his hand between them, searching for the place where Cropper was buried and worked his fingers slowly forwards, pushing and probing. At one point he hit something that made William feel like screaming and only Cropper’s grip on his wrists kept him from stripping his cock so he could finally find release. Brutus worked over the spot again and again, all to no avail until, using his other hand, he pinched the head of William’s cock between a finger and thumb.
It was like lightening shooting through his shaft, balls and channel, bringing together sensations that had remained doggedly separated. In a shock of pleasure that could not be denied, William arched, shrieked and came hard all over Brutus’ hand and Cropper’s chest, his eyes rolling back in their sockets.
He must have lost consciousness for several seconds because when he came round, William discovered he was tucked under the covers and the two older boys were seated on the edge of the bed talking quietly, their words barely discernible.
“You really think that’s the answer,” Cropper was saying. “Two seems a little extreme.”
“Not at all. He obviously needs something more and a dress ring will do it. The High Master claimed it made his boys a hell of a lot more sensitive.”
“And the other? What purpose will that serve?”
A low laugh came from Brutus’ direction. “Let’s just say, it will remind him that he isn’t alone,” he said.
*
For the next few days, everything carried on as normal. No more was said about that night, or the conversation, and William presumed that the matter had been dropped. Then something changed. There were whispered conversations that stopped when William drew near, sideward glances and avoidant eyes. He tried asking what was amiss but all he received in return were denials that anything was wrong.
It was worrying and when on Friday, Brolly did his Latin prep for him and handed the books back with no rude comment, and on Saturday morning Lyall made him toast without complaining, William started to feel like a condemned man. There was obviously something very, very wrong. If Cropper hadn’t been so solicitous then William would have believed himself in trouble. But no, there was no hint of disapproval, just the feeling that everybody else knew something he didn’t.
Sunday, after chapel and dutifully writing a letter to his mama, William made his way downstairs to the small whitewashed room, prepared to submit to his regular cleansing. Brutus went through the usual routine but when it came to the final quart, he apologised and said that this time it must be more.
William gritted his teeth and dealt with the discomfort, not bothering to ask why as he was fairly sure Brutus would be as evasive about this as he had been during the previous week. When they were finished, Brutus washed him down more thoroughly than usual, handed him a robe, and sent him up to the main bedroom to wait for Cropper.
While William was gone, someone had changed the bedding, probably Lyall because Brolly refused to lower himself to menial tasks, swapping his chores for Latin clauses any time William appeared. The plush bedspread and associated heap of warm blankets were gone, replaced by a white sheet stretched tightly over the bed. It looked bleak, as bleak as the room downstairs and William couldn’t suppress a shiver.
“Good, you’re ready.”
Cropper stood in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, and a few steps behind him lurked a small man with grey hair and piercing dark eyes whom William wanted to call dapper.
“Ready for what?” William asked standing his ground as the two men entered, despite the messages from his body that were suggesting flight was the better part of valour.
“The doctor’s going to help with your little problem,” Brutus said, following them in and closing the door.
The ominous feeling that had been haunting William all week blossomed into full-blown fear. He was trapped and they were going to do something to him and, whatever it was, it was going to hurt. A snippet of the conversation between Brutus and Cropper crept into his brain dragging behind it the icy fingers of suspicion. ‘Two seems a little extreme’, there was only one thing down there William knew he had two of.
“No!” he yelled, trying for the door and ending up in Brutus’ arms. “I won’t let you do it! I won’t let you cut them off!”
Brutus oofed when William’s bare heels caught him in the shins but he held on gamely, managing to stop the worst of the damage.
“Cut what off?” Cropper asked. “For goodness sake, boy, calm down. We’re not cutting anything off. What has given you that impression?”
William stopped struggling and shared an accusing glower between Cropper and the doctor. He would have included Brutus, but that would have involved turning around. “You did,” he said. “Last week when you and Brutus were talking. You said that two was extreme.”
A chuckle came from behind him, and the chest pressed to his back vibrated. “Silly fool thinks the doc’s here to geld him.”
Said out loud, William discovered that it did indeed sound ridiculous and when Cropper grinned and the doctor chuckled as well, William found his own lips twitching into a reluctant smile.
“Don’t worry, young man, I can promise you there will be no cutting of anything,” the doctor said, putting his bag down on the night stand. “Just two simple piercings on the menu today.”
“Piercings!” William’s hands flew to his earlobes. “Why?”
“Not your ears, William. Something a little lower.”
Back to his two somethings and William’s hands went from head to tail, crossing over his crotch protectively. “Why?” he asked again.
“It will help with your problem,” Brutus said, rubbing William’s shoulders. “It doesn’t hurt, honestly.”
William shot him a sceptical look and asked, “Had it done yourself?”
“Which would you do first?” Cropper asked the doctor, while Brutus tugged William towards the bed.
“Uh, the back I think. It will make the second more comfortable.”
So William was pressed face down on the bed and his robe flipped up to expose his rump.
“Bottoms up,” the doctor chirped and Cropper’s smack indicted William should do as he was told.
He hauled his knees up and buried his head in the mattress, clenching his fists and chewing at his lip as Brutus stroked his back. Cold fingers touched him behind his balls, pushing and probing as Brutus’ had and, when they hit that spot, William gasped.
“Hush, now. I needed to find the right place and…” The same intense feeling William remembered rushed through his body, his hole twitched and he began to get hard. “There it is,” the doctor announced. “Take a deep breath.”
William did and something pinched at the skin, tugging at it and making him want to wiggle. Hands gripped his hips – hard - and in a long moment of drawn out agony something – the needle – was pushed through. He wanted to yell and pull away but some part of his brain pointed out that any loss of control at this point could mean losing his two somethings, so he searched out Brutus’ hand and grabbed it, squeezing until he felt the tendons creak.
“Nearly done.”
If the doctor didn’t stop being so chipper, William decided, he was going to kill him. Tugging again, more pain and then a strange crunching sound of metal on metal.
“There. That won’t be coming out in a hurry. Now turn him over and we’ll do the other side.”
William didn’t so much turn as flop. His knees felt like jelly and his stomach a vast chasm that would never be full again. The doctor smiled down at him when he opened his eyes. “Would you like to watch? This one is quite different.”
“D-different?” Apparently his tongue was wobbly too.
“Oh, yes. For this one, we take this,” the doctor held up something that looked rather like a minute whistle, “put it into your piss hole and-”
William never did find out how the rest of it was done; his eyes rolled back
in his head and he passed out. But when he awoke he was the sore owner of two
new piercings.