Stonehenge 6 (Conclusion)

By Pueros

Chapter 6 – Midsummer

(Stonehenge, June 1850 B.C.)

The two hunters, who had bound the beautiful 15 years old Boudda and Aethel, also shredded and tore off the twins’ simple tunics so that they could share the naked disgrace of Bladud on their journey to Stonehenge, where the young trio would now die horribly on midsummer’s day. However, their motives were also stimulated by the fact that one of the men was strongly attracted to the girl whilst the other fancied the boy. The eunuch priest was immune to such sexual feelings but permitted the denudation as further shameful penance for the miscreants.

As a consequence, the hunters’ cocks maintained a rigid hidden firmness under their own garments as the remnants of the party, with the delectable but costly prizes, made for Stonehenge. The delectable vision of the naked trio, eventually trailing and trotting behind the priest’s horse after emerging from the bog and beginning the journey across the surrounding plain, almost made both men cum on several occasions. In fact, the sight of the firm nubile breasts and small patch of pubic hair displayed by the gorgeous girl captive, the smooth semi-hard genitalia sported by the boys and the scrumptious loveliness of all three sets of lustrous buttocks did indeed induce both men to eventual disguised orgasm. The inevitable consequence of their passionate lechery was assisted by the motion of their horses and led to the secret embarrassment of the despoliation of their undergarments, something both had difficulty afterwards in explaining to their wives.

As the journey progressed, both Boudda and Aethel would have liked to ask Bladud what had happened to bring them to this mutual tragic circumstance, although both twins could venture a good guess from observation of the brand marks that the boy now exhibited on his bottom. They also appreciated, from the causeway he had taken towards their abode, that he had selflessly tried to guide the hunters from the great temple, along with himself, to destruction rather than betray his friends.

The idea had not fully worked but Boudda and Aethel welcomed that, for Bladud remained alive as a consequence. The twins appreciated that their punishment for assisting an escaped priestling from the great temple would be unpleasant but neither yet knew that it would involve horrible sacrifice. They appreciated the 14 years old’s attempt to save them from such peril but both 15 years olds felt that the youngster’s bid for self-immolation was over-the-top, preferring to suffer than lose their friend.

The view of Boudda and Aethel was not even amended later by awful reality, as they comforted themselves with the fact that they would die together and be accompanied into the afterlife by Bladud.

The reception of the party at the village adjacent to Stonehenge was much as Bladud had demeaningly experienced previously, although, if anything, the raucous shouts of the children were even more degradingly insulting. Many of the boys in particular were pleased to see the naked very pretty Boudda amongst the new arrivals, as were many of their fathers.

Boudda and Aethel were known by some of the people of the village from markets in which all traded from time to time. However, this did not make the welcome for the twins any less unpleasant. They and Bladud were therefore grateful to disappear from view of the accumulated large throng behind the palisade that demarcated and sheltered the ecclesiastical community. Unfortunately, their remission from taunts was as short-lived as their audience with the high priest, for the three young naked prisoners soon found themselves in the publicly located punishment pit.

Nevertheless, there were two consolations for the bound trio, compared with what Bladud had had to suffer earlier, as they remained incarcerated in the pit, waiting to die on midsummer’s day. They could converse with each other and also snuggle up for mutual warmth during the variable weather of a summer on Salisbury Plain. Boudda and Aethel therefore learnt all about their friend’s sufferings since he had departed from their company weeks earlier. They were already aware of their terrible impending fate in the great temple, having been appraised by the smirking high priest.

(Stonehenge, Midsummer’s Day, June 1850 B.C.)

After 15 appalling days in the punishment pit, the naked prisoner trio, as dirty and unkempt as Bladud had been earlier, were taken at dusk, amidst much public ridicule, to the roundhouse within the ecclesiastical community reserved for the preparation of the great temple’s celebrants, although none of the threesome had much to celebrate. They knew that they were to die horribly on the next day. Nevertheless, they also unanimously and courageously determined to face their dreadful fates with as much dignity and fortitude as possible.

Bladud, Boudda and Aethel emerged from their long bathing and grooming sessions looking as beautifully immaculate as they had ever done, with even the supervising priest experiencing a tinge of regret as to what would happen to the lovely young forms after sunrise.

Sleep was not unnaturally fitful, with Bladud once waking up in terror with a yelp, sweat dripping down his forehead. Boudda in particular tried to calm the boy and strengthen his courage and her soothing words soon made the bound youngster quiescent again, although his mind wandered back to what he had just dreamt.

Bladud was sitting on the knee of his late loving father, in the cosy warm round tent made from hide and a wooden framework that used to be his family's happy nomadic home. The man was relating one of his people’s sagas, never written down for they had no writing, but passed by mouth from generation to generation.

This particular tale related how the peaceful humble moon, a gentle caring deity which Bladud’s people worshipped, occasionally, albeit very rarely, became angered by the reckless immodest sun, the main god of their enemy. She would therefore sometimes put him in his rightful subordinate place by threatening to devour him.

Bladud’s vivid somnolent imagination had visualised the moon eating the sun and, as a result, a world forever thereafter without daylight. The thought had frightened him so much that he had wakened and it was something that he could not dispel from his mind, preventing further slumber until the priests came to prepare the threesome for their deaths.

Bladud, Boudda and Aethel were bathed and groomed for one last time but kept naked for the ceremonial procession, just before dawn, into the already crowded great temple. The nearing sound of chanting could be heard as the solemn group proceeded along the moonlit entranceway towards Stonehenge’s sacred innards.

Bladud looked up at the moon above and uttered a silent prayer to the goddess to make his ordeal, and that of his friends, bearable and speedy so that they may rejoin each other in the afterlife soon. The boy’s nude body, along with those of his companions, began to shiver when the tall altar stone eventually came into view, already fitted with the twine that would bind the miscreant priestling to its cool surface. However, it was the appearance of the two grills just before the great temple’s centrepiece, with freshly ignited coals burning just below, that caused the trio the greatest feelings of helpless trepidation.

Nevertheless, the cocks of both Bladud and Aethel were firmly and humiliatingly erect as they approached the imminent scene of their deaths. Such display was despite, or perhaps perversely because of, the fact that both young males now knew that their testes would be extracted long before their hearts, so that they would enter the next world as eunuchs.

The three friends glanced at each other as they tremulously arrived before the altar stone. However, their eyes somehow bravely managed to disguise their fear, trying to display instead a mixture of courageous defiance, for the benefit of the watching priests and laity, and, for the benefit of their companions, reassurance. The latter was based on earlier discussions between them as to how they would all meet again happily in the afterlife.

Amidst continued chanting and much muted verbal comment and tittering from the surrounding crowd, Bladud, Boudda and Aethel compliantly let themselves be bound to their respective scenes of sacrifice, not wanting to display cowardice. The former was attached standing to the altar stone, facing the direction of the imminent sunrise, with the twins close in front, face-up on the metal grills, their lovely heads nearest to their friend. Both 15 years olds felt the heat beneath them, knowing that it would slowly creep up the legs of the frames on which they were now splayed until the perforated metal surface became akin to large rectangular branding implements.

Everything was now in place and all eyes turned towards the heel stone in the entranceway on the outside of the great temple. The first rays of sunlight, signalling the onset of dawn, soon emblazoned the clear sky ahead, slowly followed by the encroaching unmistakable blindingly golden orb of the sun itself.

A shaft of light suddenly ran directly down the entrance until it magnificently and accurately hit the altar stone, brightly illuminating the area and causing all three sacrificial victims to close their eyes before they were blinded. Meanwhile, the chanting went on remorselessly and was scheduled do so for much longer, as the deaths of Bladud, Boudda and Aethel were scheduled, after much suffering, for when the sun god was at his true zenith, at noon on midsummer’s day. The boys’ castration was timed for mid-morning.

No switches or other cruel implements were to be used on Bladud, Boudda or Aethel before their deaths, apart from the castration knives on the boys’ genitalia. The twins’ interim distress would emanate from the gradual but inexorable rise in temperature of the surface on which they lay before Aethel’s was compounded by his untreated gelding. The miscreant priestling’s torture would come from helpless observation of his friends’ torment and his own emasculation.

During the time from dawn until mid-morning, the watching laity dispersed noisily for breakfast before returning to see the castration of the boy sacrificial victims. Bladud was to be the first to be converted into a eunuch by having his whole scrotum severed and he shivered again in fright when the elderly smirking high priest approached him, sacred knife in hand, ready to accomplish the deed.

The high priest knelt before Bladud, still bound immovably to the altar stone, hands high above him and legs wide apart. The boy’s smooth ball sac dangled invitingly under his wonderful young body, still adorned with a fulsome erection. The old eunuch grasped the boy’s scrotum tightly around the base, squeezing the young balls neatly downwards in readiness for the well-practised slice that would turn the youngster into another eunuch priest, albeit a short-lived one.

Bladud drew a deep breath when he felt the sharp bronze blade brought to rest against his constricted upper ball sac and waited for the dreadful rite to be concluded. However, despite his efforts to diplay brave dignity, the various emotions that now swept through his mind induced tears from his sensuous brown eyes and a copious stream of white seminal fluid from his engorged cockhead, to much irreverent comment and chortling from nearby.

The chanting reached a crescendo, indicating that the time had come, and Bladud braced himself for the severance of his boyhood.

The high priest’s eager intent to perform the deed before practising the same on Aethel was, however, thwarted by a loud scream, which emanated from none of the sacrificial victims but from the spectators. The shriek was followed by many other utterances of clear terror.

The high priest turned to observe that everyone else’s attention was now focused on the sky, towards which many hands pointed. The old eunuch let go of Bladud’s genitalia to see more fully what the fuss was about. He inadvertently dropped the sacred castration knife onto the ground when he discovered the answer, for the sun god was slowly disappearing.

The priesthood of the great temple had heard of such rare calamities happening before but not in the times of anyone still alive. Many considered such tales to be mischievous myths whilst others suggested that sometimes the moon goddess, normally apparently the inferior partner in the heavens, would threaten to devour her divine male companion if particularly enraged by the activities of his servants on earth. It was therefore now particularly appropriate for the quick-witted Bladud to speak whilst recalling his seemingly prophetic overnight dream.

“You have displeased the moon,” Bladud announced, with apparent confident firmness that actually belied his trepidation, “who is the primary deity of my own people and to whom I have been praying. She will consume the sun and never let him return if you continue to perpetrate your rituals on me and my friends, who are amongst her true believers and servants on earth.”

“Lying sacrilege!” declared one priest loudly but he was in the minority as the moon proceeded remorselessly to eclipse the sun, amongst much tribal wailing. The petrified high priest looked from Bladud towards his suffering deity and back to the boy several times. “Release us and save your god and yourselves from the moon’s terrible vengeance,” the 14 years old continued, cleverly playing on the old eunuch’s fears.

Bladud was himself rather scared at the turn of events but somehow intuitively knew that it was occurring in order to secure his salvation and that of his friends, a view only reinforced by his dream of the night before.

Suddenly, the earth plunged into darkness and the sun god was blotted out, only a bright circular corona signifying his former glory. “Release them,” shrieked the high priest, “release them before it is too late!” Several other equally terrified ecclesiastics stepped forward amongst the gloom to obey and soon Bladud, Boudda and Aethel were relieved of their bonds and were gratefully standing free, rubbing their sore wrists. The twins’ backs were decorated with a square red matrix design from the grilling on which they had lain for half a morning. The temperature of the metal had risen to a painful level but fortunately not one that would yet create permanent marks.

“Be gone,” shouted the high priest, “so that your goddess can give us back our god!” Bladud, Boudda and Aethel needed no second invite, despite the darkness and their nakedness, and were soon running along the entranceway out of the great temple.

Meanwhile, the moon had released her grip on the sun, some of whose shining orb became visible once more, seemingly confirming the wisdom of the high priest’s decision, which now extended to leaving the young trio alone without pursuit. After all, the mere prayers of the young sorcerers to their goddess had almost caused the demise of the great sun god.

(Stonehenge, Midsummer’s Day, 30 years later, June 1820 B.C.)

The chieftain had his two most recent offspring on his knees within his large roundhouse, located in the centre of the village adjacent to Stonehenge. “Tell us again, father,” one of the pretty 6 years old male twins requested, “please tell us again how the moon goddess saved you and our mother.” The patient 44 years old man complied, grasping his two newest sons with reassuring firmness as he related the scary bits of the saga. However, he was eventually interrupted by the arrival of his wife and brother-in-law.

The still beautiful Boudda stepped forward to give her husband of many years a firm loving kiss before collecting their youngest offspring of an extended happy family. “The others are here,” advised Aethel. “Then, I shall come out to welcome them,” informed Bladud, “before we reconvene here for our discourse.”

Bladud stepped outside his large but otherwise modest roundhouse to greet the other chieftains, which he did individually and with his usual display of great courtesy and genuine friendship before inviting them inside his main home. The size of the latter had been dictated not by a desire for ostentatious space for his family but by his need to entertain others in the expected hospitable manner.

The men sat round the central fire, always lit even in the midst of summer, for the council meeting. Bladud knew that he was going to have a difficult time trying to dissuade the others from their intent but he was going to try his best.

Bladud, Boudda and Aethel had fled from the great temple 30 years previously, with the twins just pleased to escape an awful premature end. However, the youngest of the trio gradually began to feel that he had been spared only to fulfil a mission.

The young threesome temporarily resumed the apparently idyllic residence on the remote island within the great bog, becoming quickly and happily reacquainted with each other’s delectable bodies, until it became obvious that Bladud was discontent. It took much gentle cajolery for the twins to elicit the truth behind such dissatisfaction, as the boy was torn between remaining with his dear friends and leaving to seek to achieve what he now considered his true destiny. However, he was helped in his final decision by being informed that Boudda and Aethel would accompany him whatever he deemed appropriate to do and wherever he proposed to go.

The little secret dwelling on the island within the great bog was later left ready for a return that would never come, as the young intrepid trio finally set forth into the wider world, with Bladud intent on finding the scattered remnants of his own nomadic people. The boy, as he developed into a youth and then a man, marrying his beloved Boudda on the way, more than fulfilled his original aim.

With the aid of Aethel, who proved a great warrior, Bladud, displaying superb leadership skills, not only found his own kind but joined them together as one reunited people before returning after many years to Stonehenge, where he felt he had unrequited business. His objective was not fed by a desire for vengeance but for justice. The peoples of Stonehenge had for too long terrorised, plundered and enslaved their neighbours, many of their actions stimulated not only by greed but also by barbaric cruel religious beliefs that had seen many emasculated and sacrificed over the years.

In a great battle on Salisbury Plain, the army wisely and bravely led by Bladud and his chief lieutenant, Aethel, had annihilated that of the peoples of Stonehenge. It was a victory that destroyed the power of the latter, whose identity now quietly merged with that of their conquerors, evoking a great age of unification and development.

The chieftains eventually emerged from Bladud’s roundhouse, having achieved their own victory over their great but modest leader. The latter had finally, albeit reluctantly, given in to their wishes when even Aethel had defected from his cause.

Bladud did not want to be termed King, the first ancient Briton to hold such a title, but had finally been persuaded that such a position was essential for unity and, thereby, the maintenance of a peaceful, prosperous and just society.

(Stonehenge, Midsummer’s Day, 1500 years later, June 320 B.C.)

The great wise King, astride a splendid steed, and his large mounted entourage arrived at Stonehenge just before dawn, guided by a full moon, the planetary satellite being his people’s main deity. However, the monarch was here to observe the spectacular sunrise at the now deserted and partly ruined former great temple. He was doing so not to pay homage to the sun but to follow the tradition of his long line of royal ancestors, who went back into the mists of time.

The King, whose name was to be assumed by many others amongst his royal male progeny over subsequent centuries, accepted a goblet full of precious red wine, imported from the Mediterranean in exchange for tin and iron ore. As the sun rose, spilling a shaft of light past the heel stone and directly along the entranceway to the altar stone at the heart of Stonehenge, the monarch poured the libation onto the ground. “To the everlasting glory of my ancestors,” he declared, “the founders of my ancient line!” His sentiment was echoed vociferously by his companions.

The King, after later spending much time at Stonehenge reflecting on life and his own posterity, hoping that the latter would match that of some of his great forebears, eventually departed the scene for the distant fortress, surrounded by a large township, that he called home. There he would call a council of his advisors to discuss matters of state and, in keeping with the custom supposedly first established by the founder of his dynasty, they sat in a circle so that no-one was seen to have pre-eminence over others. However, the formation gathered on chairs placed around a large wooden table rather than on the floor of a roundhouse.

As usual before beginning such meetings, Arthwyr quietly repeated his thanksgiving to the almost mystical originators of his royal house in order to try to conjure up some of their wisdom. “To the everlasting glory of my ancestors,” he again declared, albeit this time in a quiet whisper, “the founders of my ancient line, great King Bladud and his Queen, Boudda!”

THE END

of

‘STONEHENGE’

by Pueros