Twelve boys, each his father's second son, each twelve years-old, stood naked in a chamber in the lord's castle dungeon. Because they were second sons; because their older brothers still lived, because it was the year they were twelve, they had been selected, as were all twelve year-old second sons. Elias stood among them. He was his father's second son. His older brother still lived.

He shivered: from fear as well as from cold. The chamber, lit by torches in holders on the walls, was dank and cold. "Be brave," his father had told him, and he was trying to be brave; but he didn't feel brave. No boy, once selected, had ever returned home. None were ever seen again.

Elias glanced at the other boys. Of the twelve, only he and one other didn't yet have their man hair. Not yet got his growth, the son of a man of small stature, he was the smallest of them.

Three guards had ushered the boys to the chamber, the last of them closing and latching the door to it behind him. The Lord, wearing his powered wig, sat at a table, smiling, shaking a dice cup, spilling the two dice onto the table. The guards lined the boys up before him, so they all faced him. Two men, wearing torturer's masks, stood behind him. "Count them off," the lord said.

The man, behind him and to his right, walked over to the line of boys. "One," he said, touching the first boy on the chest. "Seven," he said, touching Elias's chest. His finger was cold, but seemed to burn Elias's chest. He felt the touch long after the man had finished counting off the boys.

All the boys counted off, the lord picked up the dice cup, shook it, and spilled the dice onto the table. Looking at them, he said, "Seven," and looked up - at Elias.

Elias felt the rough hand of a one of the guards on his bicep. It wrapped clear around it. Standing, the lord headed for a door behind him. The two men in masks followed him. The guard, his grip like a band of steel around Elias's arm, shoved the boy after them.

"No - please," said Elias, his bladder letting go, piss streaming from his cock, but it did no good. The guard pulled him along toward the door.

It opened onto another, smaller, room. A table of rough wood, a hole cut in the center of it, stood, along with a smaller table, in the room. Shackles were attached to chains that passed through rings on each corner of the table. The links of each chain could be slipped over pegs, once the shackles had been applied, to tighten the restraints.

The door to the outer chamber was shut. Another door, on the opposite side of the room led elsewhere. On the smaller table was a large bowl. In it, lay a knife.

Walking over to Elias, the lord picked up Elias's chin. "A pretty boy," he said. He caressed Elias's long, black, hair. "If not for his cock and balls, I would think him a girl. He would make a pretty one."

One of the men in the torturer's mask, prying open Elias's mouth, slid a thick rope between his teeth, tying it behind his neck. Elias was lifted onto the table, pulled down it by his outstretched arms until he felt his genitals drop through the hole in the center. The shackles were placed around his wrists and ankles, the chains pulled and secured on pegs, splaying his arms and legs. Face down on the table, all he could move was his neck and head. Looking over his shoulder, Elias saw one of the men pick up the bowl and knife off the smaller table. The man looked at the lord, who nodded. Bending over, the man disappeared beneath the table.

Elias felt the man's cold hand close on his cock and balls, pulling them, stretching them, as if the man were about to rip them off. "No," Elias tried to say, but the rope muffled the word, making it unintelligible.

Suddenly, a burning pain, as if a hot poker had been thrust into his groin, deep into his abdomen, clear into his chest. He screamed, but again, the thick rope muffled the sound.

Although he felt faint, Elias remained conscious. He hurt still, but the pain was more localized, confined to his groin and his abdomen. Glancing back, he saw the man rise up from beneath the table, In his upraised palm, held up for the lord's inspection, he held Elias's bloody cock and balls. Taking them, the lord licked the blood off them.

Nothing was said for several minutes. Elias drifted in and out of consciousness. Hearing a noise, he glanced back over his shoulder. This time, the man held up the bowl to the lord. It was partially filled with blood - Elias's blood. "Is that all?" the lord said.

"Yes, My Lord," the man said. "His bits were small. There's only a trickle of blood from them any longer. Shall I cut his throat to collect the rest?"

"No," said the lord. "His beauty intrigues me. Perhaps, I'll keep him for a while." He turned to the guard. "Take him to my physician."

The man holding the bowl containing Elias's blood poured it into a golden goblet and handed it to the lord, who drank the blood. As the chain links were pulled from the pegs, Elias felt his restraints loosen. After the shackles were popped loose, Elias rolled over and looked down at his groin. Where his cock and balls had been was a bloody smear.

Grabbing hold of Elias's arm, the guard pulled him up to a sitting position and wrapped his arm around Elias's middle, lifting him off the table. Elias dangled from the crook of the man's arm, his head hanging toward the floor on one side, his feet hanging down on the other. He stared at his mutilated crotch. Blood, running from it, ran down his legs and dripped onto the floor, drip…drip…drip, with every step the guard took. At least, one of the other men had removed the rope from his mouth.

They went out the door behind the table, down a corridor, up several flights of stairs, and down another long corridor into a room. Beds lined the walls to either side of the room. Three of them had boys on them. Each boy, recent wounds to their groins, had no cock or balls. A man was examining one of them. The guard carried Elias over to him. "Another one for you," he said.

"How much blood did he lose?" the man asked.

"Half a bowl, more or less," the guard said, "a little perhaps since, but not much, I think." He stood Elias up for the man to see.

"He'll keep," the man said, after glancing at Elias's crotch. "Put him on an empty bed." He attended to a boy obviously in worse shape. Sweat poured from the boy's brow. The wound on his groin was inflamed.

The guard left Elias on a bed. The physician later came over and stitched up his wound.

Elias healed without complication; not all boys did; several died, some from infection; some had lost too much blood. Most never left the cutting room alive. The lord only kept special boys, ones that piqued his interest for one reason or the other. From the others, he only needed their blood.

Along with the others, the survivors, Elias was trained to serve the lord. He slept during the day, because that's when the lord slept. He never saw the lord while the sun was up. One night, the lord called him over. "I remember you, the pretty one. What is your name?"

"Elias, My Lord," the boy said.

"You are too pretty to be a boy," the lord said. He turned to one of his servants. "Find a dress for her. We shall call her Eli." From that moment, Elias was Eli, who, a girl by the lord's decree, only wore dresses.

Eli soon discovered that the lord only drank blood. She never saw him eat even a morsel of food. Some months passed. Eli became the lord's favorite, but she soon found that being one of the chosen, those spared death in the chamber, was only a temporary reprieve. Boys often disappeared, never to be seen again. One night, the lord invited Eli and one of the servant boys into his rooms. "Take off your clothes," he ordered.

Knowing that some of the boys traded sex for favors from some of the lord's courtiers, Eli expected that was what the lord wanted, although she had never heard of the lord making such demands of other boys. She slipped off her dress. She wore nothing under it. The other boy took off his tunic. Unlike Eli, he had hair on his groin, but like Eli, he had nothing else. Eli's crotch was smooth, marred only by a pee hole and a pink, vertical, scar. If the boy had a similar scar, it was hidden by his pubic hair.

"Lovely," the lord said, running his hand over Eli's smooth crotch.

Eli expected to get fucked. She'd seen other boys fucked, bent over, a man's cock up his hole. No one had tried it with Eli. She seemed to be forbidden fruit. She supposed the lord was saving her for himself. But after the lord ordered the two of them onto his bed, he took off his clothes. To her surprise, she saw that he, too, was a eunuch. Hair covered his groin, but nothing hung from it. He had no cock or balls either.

Crawling in bed with them, he kissed Eli, before turning to the boy and lowering his face to him. Eli thought the lord was going to kiss the boy, but he lowered his mouth to the boy's neck and bit.

The boy screamed, kicked, and struggled, but the lord lay on top of him holding him down. He sucked on the wound on the boy's neck, drinking his blood. Frozen in fright, Eli watched, wondering if she were next, expecting that she was next, wanting to flee, but able only to watch.

After a moment, the boy's struggles ceased; his eyes and mouth were open; he still breathed, his chest slowly rose and fell. The lord looked over at Eli. His mouth was red with the boy's blood. "Drink," he said.

When Eli didn't move, the lord grabbed the back of her head and shoved it toward the boy, until her mouth was over the wound on the boy's neck. Her nose pressed against his flesh, Eli had to open her mouth to breathe. The boy's blood flowed into her mouth. "Drink it," the lord said.

Eli drank until the lord said, "Enough." He pulled Eli away from the boy's neck. Eli saw that the boy no longer breathed. She wondered if she were next. "It has been a long time since I've had the company of another like me, and as small as you are, you would be no threat. Besides, I want to preserve your beauty." He raised Eli's wrist to his mouth, bit and drank.

After a long moment, he stopped. Blood seeped from the wound on Eli's wrist. A terrible pain, a hot fire, flowed from Eli's wrist, up her arm, lodging in her heart. There, it grew, spreading outward from the center, She screamed. It hurt more than had her castration. For a moment, Eli's heart stopped; her breathing ceased. Then, thump...thump...thump, her heart began to beat slowly, about five beats a minute. When Eli realized she wasn't breathing, she took a breath. The pain, diffused, not as intense, spread out from her heart, encompassing her entire body. Her head hurt. She couldn't think; she couldn't move; it hurt so.

She lay writhing on the bed. The lord stroked her forehead. "It's the change," he said. "It's been so long, since I underwent it, I'd almost forgotten how much it hurt." He turned back to the boy, who, dead moments before, drained of his blood, was moving, trying to sit up. Grasping the boy's head, the lord twisted, turning his head completely around. With a loud, "Crack," the boy's neck snapped. He fell back on the bed, the skin of his neck creased where it had been twisted. Although he was on his back, his nose pressed into the covers. His arms flopped; his legs kicked; but he no longer tried to sit up.

As Eli lay, enveloped in pain, the lord went to the door, opened it, allowing a guard inside, said, "Take him," indicating the boy. "Burn him."

"And the other one, My Lord?" He pointed at Eli, who still writhed in pain.

"No," said the lord. "Upon pain of death, she is not to be harmed."

The guard took out the boy, whose body yet jerked and twisted. The boy's head flopped back and forth with each of the guard's steps.

Eli's breathing slowed and stopped, but her heart continued to beat, thump...thump...thump...five beats per minute. She no longer felt pain; she no longer felt anything; nor was she conscious of anything. She slept.

It was the next night before she awoke. She was famished. She thought of the boy's blood from the night before. She wanted more of it; that's what she craved. Instinctively, she knew nothing else would do.

"Awake, I see," she heard the lord say. "How do you feel?"

"I"m hungry," Eli said, looking up.

"Yes, I imagine you are," the lord said, laughing. He had a boy with him.

Eli knew the boy, one of the lord's servants like her. She even liked him; but all she could think about was the blood pulsing beneath the skin of his neck. Saliva felled her mouth. She ran her tongue over her teeth; they were sharp.

The boy was naked. The lord pushed him toward Eli, who leapt from the bed, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. Burying her face in his neck, she bit. Blood gushed into her mouth. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

The boy screamed; he struggled; but although he was bigger than Eli, he couldn't throw her off. He sank to his knees; she continued to drink. He fell onto his back; she continued to drink. She didn't want to stop; she couldn't stop. It was a hunger unlike any she had ever felt. She drank until the boy's blood no longer flowed; his chest no longer rose and fell.

"Enough," said the lord. Reaching down, he twisted the boy's head, breaking his neck as he had done the night before.

Eli looked at the boy. He had been her friend; she had liked him; yet, she had killed him. She thought she should feel bad about having done it; she tried to feel guilt for having killed him; but she couldn't. It had been completely beyond her control. Given the hunger she'd felt, she would do it again.

It was the way of things. She was predator; he was prey.

After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Eli looked at it. The back of her hand was red with blood - the boy's blood. She licked it off. It was delicious.

Later, Eli accompanied the lord to the dungeon chamber. Twelve naked boys stood in a line. Eli wore a dress. No doubt, the boys thought she was a girl. They couldn't know she had once stood where they did. Several of the boys stared at her. A couple of them had erections.

The lord rolled the dice. A boy was selected. Eli followed him into the other room. He was put onto the table. His genitals were sliced off. His blood filled the bowl, enough blood to fill a goblet for her and for the lord. As she drank from hers, she watched the boy's breathing slow and stop. He had begun puberty. His cock and balls were grown. Unlike Eli, he bled out.

Eli wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She licked the blood from it. Again, she felt no guilt for the boy's death. It was the way of things.