"Have faith Juan," my mother called after me as I was bundled out the house, dressed only in my nightshirt, to be thrown onto the back of the waiting cart. "I am sure you are guiltless," she yelled from the door, crossing herself frantically. "God will protect you. Or if it is His will, then you will see Him soon in heaven."

What! See Him soon in heaven! That might be a comfort to some senile old fool with one foot in the grave, but hardly encouraging words for a lad just turned eighteen who had all his life before him. The prospect of a sinless death in the prime of my youth didn't really appeal - a long debauched life with a good confession at the end sounded like a much better proposition, and I intended to do my utmost to see it happen!

My mind was already racing as the Soldiers of Christ mounted the cart - two at the front to drive the ass and two in the back to fondle mine!

I know! Absolutely shocking! But it's no word of a lie - the dirty sods had a good old grope at my butt. They tied me up in hog-like fashion, wrists and ankles bound with rope behind my back; and as they did so, they fondled my buttocks with their big calloused hands, brazenly raising the hem of my shift so they could look at my bare cheeks under the light of the torches.

Now that was a turn up for the books was it not! Another aspect of the inquisition that was decidedly unexpected. Good Christian men weren't supposed to do that, especially those in the employ of the Church.

I was left in this state as we got underway, lying on my front between two foul loutish men, bound and hogtied, my shift up at my waist so my bum was expose, eyes leering down at its helpless nudity. It was hardly comfortable, and very degrading - although between you and me, rather arousing. As the ass plodded along the potholed track I was jolted about on the straw covered floor of the wooden cart, bouncing up and down on my hardening cock - my buttocks bared to the night and wobbling around, much to the amusement of my charming guards who occasionally gave them a hearty slap to wobble them some more, cackling with laughter as they did so.

Bastards!

Well they might have found it funny, but I certainly didn't - being arrested by the inquisition is no laughing matter, and these big smelly buffoons weren't making life any easier - spanking my bare ass indeed!

How in damnation had I ended up in such a pickle - what action had brought me to such a perilous position? Stupidly I cast my mind over my recent past searching for some crime I might be guilty of. But it was a waste of time - better to think of who I had offended, for any crime could be invented. Yet no one sprang to mind. I was a popular lad with a cheery disposition, and my only sin was a closely guarded secret. Even my confessor was not aware of the lustful thoughts I harboured in my soul.

And they would be? I hear you ask, as if you can't imagine.

Well I won't go into details but here's a flavour...

You see, privacy was not something we poor people were big on in the Middle Ages, and in our single roomed home, I would hear my father grunting at night as he took his carnal pleasure of my mother. Quietly sniggering, I would snuggle up to Antonio and whisper in his ear.

"They're doing it again," I would tell my brother, dry humping at his rear to illustrate the action. "He's putting his hard cock inside her cunt, ramming it in and out till he spills out his seed."

And as I pressed my hard sex against Antonio's peachy ass, I wished he was older, bigger and bolder, that he would flick me over and do it to me - mount me in the dark like my father did my mother, and secretly commit sin upon sin: sodomy - to be buggered by my brother, confessed at the end, but enjoyed whilst still young and very much alive.

I was lost in this wishful reverie when my mind was jerked back to my current predicament: a conversation between the men startling me, and adding a new layer of fear.

"Did you see the other one?" an ass driver lustily chortled from up front.

"Oh yes!" exclaimed one of the men guarding me. "He's ripening very nicely. I should imagine we'll be back here in a couple of years."

"Less!" laughed the other hearty fellow at the back. "Have you not noticed? As the Grand Inquisitor gets older, his favourite type of sinner is getting younger and younger."

Now there was another startling surprise - it would appear I was being taken to the Grand Inquisitor! Alonso Fernández Ponce de Córdoba y Aguilar (or Al to his closest friends) - Archbishop of Seville, and the most feared man in the land, for he was in charge of the whole nasty process - subservient only to the king and to God.

This was getting stranger and stranger. Why would His Grace, the Archbishop of Seville, be interested in me, a poor farmer's son? And Antonio was destined to suffer the same fate it would seem, for apparently we were his favourite type of sinner. What on earth was going on?