I lay there, on my back on the bed, bound to the bed with wrist constraints at the corners of the head board and ankle constraints half way down Lord Dinwiddie’s bed that forced me to bend my legs, with my feet flat on the mattress, and spread them. I was babbling incomprehensively to the top of the frame over the fourposter, panting hard, and arching my back. Surely he wasn’t going to give me his entire fist. Dinwiddie was sitting on the bed next to me, naked. His greased right hand was inside me up to the knuckles. One more push and he would be inside me to the wrist. I was built for big cocks, but I wasn’t built for this.
“Is this one of the services the house normally offers? Have you been trained to give this service?”
“No, I haven’t heard of this being offered,” I answered through gritted teeth. “And you aren’t really going to—?”
“Good. I always like to think that I have special privileges,” Dinwiddie said. “And, yes, I definitely am going to do it with you. I have initiated you in so much else, I will in this too. And you will take it from me, won’t you?”
“Yes,” I whimpered, the exasperation clear in my voice.
At the point of pushing his knuckles past my rim, he relented, and I relaxed—which was a mistake. My relaxing had pulled him in and given him the dispelling of tension to allow his knuckles to breach the sphincter muscle.
“Steady, steady,” he murmured. “Thrashing about will make it worse for you.”
I worked at relaxing more, which helped, and taking longer, more shallow pants. I screamed as he opened his fingers inside me, challenging the channel walls to spread further.
He leaned over and captured my eyes with his. Giving me a warm smile, he whispered, “Now you are totally mine. I am fully possessing you.”
“Yes,” I whimpered. I moaned deeply as he moved his hand inside me.
“Enough for now,” he murmured. Then the hand was withdrawn and he moved full up on the bed and between my spread thighs. I arched my back and cried out again as he slid inside me, deep, going directly into the soft core of me and holding there, knowing that my channel muscles would make love to his cock there despite his cruelty.
He savored this for a few moments and then he began to fuck me in long, strong slides of the cock. I went with him in a rolling motion as he buried his face in my throat and latched on to my skin with teeth that held me in thrall but didn’t break the surface. His thrusts became stronger, more insistent. He was working me hard in my soft core, bruising me, ravishing me. I shot my load and he continued to thrust, but that didn’t last much longer before he flooded me deep.
He pulled out of me immediately, deftly released my restraints, as he said, “That was a good one. You gave me everything that time.” We held, both of us bringing our panting under control.
“That was cruel,” I whispered.
“And it made you hard as rock,” he answered. “For what I have in mind for you, you will have to be able to manage fetishes like that. Better that I initiate you with restraint than some pirate tear you apart.”
I was considering that when Dinwiddie stiffened and sat up in the bed, pulling my pelvis with him, maintaining his cock inside me. “Is that a carriage I heard in the forecourt?” he asked.
I heard the crunch of the gravel on the drive below as well and the snort of the horse. But I certainly hadn’t been attuned to anything but where his cock was and what it was doing to that point. Pulling out of me, Dinwiddie bounded from the bed, naked, his massive cock at least temporarily satisfied and swinging between his legs, and went to the window.
“Ah, yes, the earl has arrived.”
My thoughts were elsewhere. Before he had decided he was randy and wanted to be serviced before the weekend hunt guests arrived at Entworthy, his Yorkshire country estate, I had thought that being told what his proposition in buying my contract was was what had brought me to Entworthy. Now, after he had repeatedly fucked me, I thought, rather, that it was the smell of a young man in heat and ready and willing to take the lord’s cock that had brought me to his country house.
I broached the subject again. “You were going to tell me about the proposition you had.” I was ready for him to tell me that he wanted to set me up as his mistress, if that’s what a young man servicing an old man could be called, as he had done for a time with my mother. And I was prepared to say yes. I couldn’t fathom what the British Foreign Office would have to do with the arrangement, though.
“Stay right there. I will greet the guest. I have something to talk with him about. Then I will come back. Rest. You will need it.”
Then he was gone. I lay back in the bed, thinking of what we had first done. I’d never had a man’s fist inside me before. I can’t say I cared for it. Dinwiddie was always looking for something exciting and new to do, though. Could I possibly deflect him to some other, less painful and challenging activity? I closed my eyes to think, and as I mulled possibilities, I took my cock in hand and was stroking myself.
I heard the clearing of a throat and looked up. He was gone, back out of the door to the corridor, almost as soon as I had looked up. But I’d seen who it was—Lieutenant Smythe, Lord Dinwiddie’s adjutant, who would be going out in support of the Lord to India. I’d met him at dinner the previous evening. He was young, not more than a couple of years older than I was, and a gorgeous hunk, a beauty that was accentuated by the military uniform he wore. He wore it again this morning at breakfast, and his gaze at me had been direct, understanding. Understanding it all. And, I like to think, interested. His uniform was tight fitting. I could see that he dressed on the right and that he observed the fashion of using a dressing ring to hold his cock in place in his tight trousers. He was hung. He also met the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome criteria—and was muscular. He could probably break a man’s back with the strength of his thighs in a wrestling scissor’s maneuver.
I’d only gotten a fleeting look at him at the door to Dinwiddie’s bedchamber, but I’d seen the all-white-teeth smile and the flash of his mysteriously gray eyes—gray eyes with gold flecks in them. I’d noticed them in the candlelight at dinner and had nearly fallen helplessly into them.
It wasn’t his fault he’d come to the door. He had full access to Lord Dinwiddie in keeping with his duties. He couldn’t have helped seeing me naked, on the bed, cock in hand.
He had withdrawn quickly enough. Or had he? How long had he been standing there before he cleared his throat? And why did he clear his throat to mark that he had been present at all?
* * * *
“This prince, the Maharaja Babua Jahan of the Satrap of Sagala, you want me to go to India and fuck—is he an old, ugly ogre? Do Indians look a lot different than we do?”
Before dinner Lord Dinwiddie had taken me aside in his study and told me at last about the proposition he had for me. I had to walk carefully here because Percy told me that they already were finalizing the contract on the Marble Crescent Club sale of me to the Foreign Office. I may not have much of a say in this. Dinwiddie was walking carefully too. The proposition was that Dinwiddie’s mission to India was one of bringing the East India Company back into favor with some of the satraps—sovereign entities—in northwest India. They had overstepped themselves with the traditional power sources there. As well as political deals, the mission had to provide some private incentives for the maharajas of the satraps. Most could be won over with coin or with arms, which was why James Evans was going. One maharaja, the most important one, though, had a weakness for young men. Dinwiddie wanted me to exploit that weakness, and he wanted a long-term spy in the maharaja’s court. I was being asked to be a British spy in the long term in India.
“He’s not young. And he is what we would refer to as statuesque,” Dinwiddie answered
“So, he’s old and fat.”
“I wouldn’t say he’s fat or as old as is the norm with maharajas. He’s robust. He is athletic. He hunts a lot and he is very strong. He is heavy, yes, and has a bit of a stomach on him. Maharajas are fed well. But he’s a commanding figure. Tall for an Indian and large—all over. And, yes, Indians look much the same as we do, given their unique appearances. They tend to be darker skinned than we are. They wear looser clothes than we do, which will work to your advantage. He’s quite handsome by Indian standards, I am told. Doesn’t do much for me, of course.”
“You said he’s large all over.”
“I think you’ll be pleased. You’ll be taxed, though. When I unexpectedly saw you with Sir Sydney and considered what he liked to do with young men, I must admit that I started thinking of you as perfect for this mission. You have few prospects here in Britain, you know. You aren’t legitimate. We both know your mother isn’t going to support you. When I thought of the assignment—a long-term one in India in pampered, if restricted, conditions, I thought again that it might be a perfect future for you.”
“You are saying that he is sadistic with his sex. And what do you mean by restricted conditions?” I wasn’t happy with what I was hearing about India, but he certainly was right about my prospects here. Male prostitutes don’t stay at the luxury level I was at very far into their twenties. After a couple of years, I’d be going down the rungs of whore house conditions and falling out of the ranks of those with gentlemen clients—unless I could land a wealthy patron who wanted someone with him as he aged. I had thought that Dinwiddie’s proposition might be to do this for me, but I was now learning that wasn’t the case.
And, no, my mother certainly wasn’t going to float me. I didn’t think my father would either. I had not heard of support from him beyond my schooling, and I had already left that.
“How long do I have to think about it?” I asked.
“Not long,” Dinwiddie said. “We already are in contract talks with the club.”
He was cajoling me, I knew, trying to pull me along into agreement. It would be so much better if I entered into this willingly. But I knew that the contract was further along than he indicated. Percy had spoken about it as having been agreed.
“You will, of course, be given an allowance even when you have been left in the maharaja’s harem. You will be a man of means in your own right.”
“His harem?”
“Yes, that will be a good thing for you. You will not be in constant demand. I understand he has hundreds of wives in one wing of his palace and more than a dozen young men for his other indulgences in another wing. If he accepts you as a gift, you will be left to your own devices for large periods of time. And I understand that Indian maharajas are forgiving about dalliances of their young men while they are in wait of a night with him. If he’s willing, we could even arrange for a position for you with the East India Company there in the satrap so that you could have probably a better life there than you’d ever enjoy here in Britain.”
“You do make it sound like the best path for me,” I said.
“There is one other thing—something you must do as we travel there and before we settle you with the maharaja.”
“You of course could have whatever privilege with me you command,” I said.
“Yes, that goes without saying, but beyond that. The colonel of the honor guard they are sending with us—which, given the unrest in that region may be something we have to depend on more than just as an honor guard—Colonel Franklin, is somewhat of a nervous nelly. Sex settles him down.”
“So, the colonel will be screwing me until conditions are set up for some Indian prince to whip and screw me.”
“Only to the extent that it keeps the colonel contented.”
What a deal, I thought. But I never had supposed that my life would be an easy one.
* * * *
I didn’t realize what earl had arrived earlier on Friday afternoon until dinner that night. There were a bunch of earls in Britain and I only knew one, and I only knew him from afar, so there was no particular reason I should have connected the earl Lord Dinwiddie spoke of arriving here and my natural-born father, Reginald Clarendon, the Earl of Heathdon. But I had, in fact, made the connection mentally and ignored it. The last time I’d been with Lord Dinwiddie and I’d learned that he was trying to buy my contract at the Marble Crescent Club and the contract had specified the British Foreign Office and “national interest,” I had thought of Clarendon. “My” earl was the British foreign secretary.
And here the earl was. And he didn’t look all that happy to be here in Lord Dinwiddie’s country house on this Friday night. Conversely, he didn’t acknowledge me any more than he did the others contracted to be there from the Marble Crescent Club, Philip and Charles, when we were cursorily introduced as we served at table.
Ostensibly, it seemed that those invited for the weekend hunt were invited in connection with Dinwiddie’s impending return to India, which would explain the earl being there. As foreign secretary, Clarendon was ultimately in charge of Dinwiddie’s mission. Dinwiddie was the head of the mission. Also at the table was Horace Walpole, the East India Company representative attached to the mission; Colonel Fritz Franklin, commander of the military attachment being sent; and James Evans, a munitions manufacturer, who would be along to dole out “candy” meant to bring the maharajas in northwest India back into East India Company order.
It was a small, carefully planned, gathering, the real purpose of which I had been able to figure out without much effort. Dinwiddie had contracted the services of three male prostitutes from a high-class whore house to be there. From the looks Walpole, Franklin, and Evans gave to Philip, Charles, and me, there was no question that they fit into the Dinwiddie’s mission plans because he could control them by providing them with young male whores. I didn’t know where my father fit into this, though. He didn’t appear to be interested in much of anything going on during dinner. I supposed he’d be happy to go on the hunt the next day. I knew that he enjoyed them. But he remained aloof at dinner and hardly acknowledged that Philip, Charles, and I were there.
The conversation at dinner was stiff, concentrating on provisioning plans for the mission to India. All of the men seemed bored with the discussion, though, and it moved in fits and starts. What was of more interest to most of them at the table were the three of us from the Marble Crescent Club, who were put to service to bring the dishes to the meal and walk around the table. As we passed around the table with the platters, attention by the diners drifted to us. So did their hands as we drew close to them, serving their plates. The earl did not participate in this. He restarted the mission discussion when it lapsed and spent considerable time looking at the ceiling.
Standing against the wall behind Dinwiddie’s chair and near the door into the butler’s pantry was Dinwiddie’s adjutant, Lieutenant Owen Smythe. He, like the earl, spent considerable time examining the ceiling of the dining room, which, luckily for him and the earl was ornately painted with a religious scene of some sort. I knew it was biblical, but, thanks to my mother’s nontraining in biblical stories, I couldn’t place what it depicted. I just hoped the characters up there were not in shock in the arousal that was building among the men at the table below them.
The earl, apparently by prearrangement, because Dinwiddie didn’t seem the least upset, begged off the evening’s activities in favor of paperwork and retired right after dinner.
The rest of us moved to the gentleman’s parlor. After brandy and cigars were passed around, Dinwiddie pulled out the center of entertainment. He had acquired three Brewster Stereoscope viewers that had been introduced at the Great Exhibition five years earlier. These used nearly matched aspect photographs, also a developing technology, that, put in the viewers, provided a 3D effect. There were very few viewers and photo collections in private hands. These three were on loan from the Marble Crescent Club and thus, in the absence of the earl, the evening devolved into Dinwiddie’s true goal for the weekend of suborning the support of key men in his mission by playing on their preferences. The photos passed around for the three guests to view were all of sexual situations of naked men. The order in which Dinwiddie handed out the photography sets ran from clothed young men to naked young men to fucking couples to threesomes and more.
Arousal and need in the room quickly built. It wasn’t long before Charles was kneeling in front of the seated Evans and servicing the man’s cock, while the colonel crouched behind Charles and fucked him while switching the young man’s buttocks with his riding crop, which he always carried as part of his army uniform. The colonel was the only fit man of the three guests. The other two were carrying much more weight than they should, which they no doubt would regret when they arrived in the heat of India.
Much to my surprise, Dinwiddie zeroed in on Philip, with Philip sitting in his lap, on his cock. In contrast to the last time I saw Philip with the lord, this time Philip was facing Dinwiddie and leaning back, reaching for the floor with his arms, while Dinwiddie pulled him on and off the shaft.
That left me with the oldest and ugliest of the guests, Horace Walpole. We sat in an embrace in a settee for some time, kissing and fondling each other, before I accepted that the man wanted to have more active sex. Then, with a sigh, I slipped to the floor and took his stubby cock in my mouth. He’d had the member out for some time and I’d been working on it with my hand. It had only slowly filled out. I did manage to get it hard, and of somewhat normal length, and with great effort, I did tease some semblance of an ejaculation out of him. He seemed to want sex but to be blocked by shyness or discomfort under these circumstances—open sexual activity going on around us in a lit parlor. The important point was that he declared himself satisfied with what I had provided. I had exhausted him and I was halfway expecting him to stroke out while I was sucking him off. But he made it to the climax and I helped him up from the settee and to the corridor to the main, guest bedchamber wing.
I hadn’t planned to come back but to go on and turn into the corridor to the staff bedchamber wing, but I only made it halfway down the hallway. I was accosted by Colonel Franklin, virtually hunting me down. He had his cock out and was fisting it. He was in high erection, so Charles must not have fully satisfied him. That was to be left to me.
With a sigh, I turned my face to the wall, unbuttoned myself, let my trousers fall to my ankles, pressed my chest into the wall, and jutted my buttocks out. He reddened my butt cheeks with his riding crop before dropping on his knees and sticking his face in my crack. He did a nice job of that, and I was ready for him when he stood, grasped my hips, held me in place, slid inside me, and immediately set up a vigorous stroke. His stroke was good. It was steady, rhythmic, and he obviously wanted to prolong the fuck, slowing down when he had to recover control and going vigorous again to take his pleasure up to the next plateau. His cock was of average size, though, and didn’t reach me deep, so I didn’t engage as I could have with a bigger-cocked man. The primary challenge for me other than the stroking by his riding crop was that he had arched me back painfully and his riding crop was at my throat, pulling my head back. When he was about to blow, he pulled out of me, grabbed my hair, and forced me to my knees to take his ejaculation on my face. He made me clean his cock with my mouth and then banged my head against the wall and turned and marched off.
At least his finale grabbed my attention.
I went to the kitchen and cleaned my face. I went back to the gentleman’s parlor to find that Lord Dinwiddie and Philip had left the room. Charles was on his back on a low table, his legs spread and raised. Evans was crouched between his thighs, fucking him. The colonel had gotten back into the mix. Charles’s head was arched back over one end of the table, and the colonel was face fucking him, working for another erection and release.
Through it all Lieutenant Smythe had stood by a door at near attention. His eyes went to me when I walked into the room.
“Do you know where Lord Dinwiddie has gone?” I asked him. Every move I made was subject to Dinwiddie’s beckon.
“He has retired. With the other young man,” the lieutenant said. “He told me to tell you you could sleep as you wished tonight. That he would not be calling for you.”
Was it a hint of amusement I saw on the Lieutenant’s face, I wondered. My next thought was how strange it was that Dinwiddie had brought me here for the weekend and had turned to Philip for a nighttime companion. He’d fucked Philip before. Had he decided he preferred Philip to me? I knew I should be detached from that, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t help having a flash of jealousy.
* * * *
I woke that night with the awareness that a man was in my bedchamber, in a robe that was open to expose his nakedness, and standing close to the bed. I had left the drapes open on the two windows and it was a moonlit night, so I could clearly see him. He was muscular and in fighting trim. The handsome lieutenant, Owen Smythe.
He was just standing there, perhaps knowing I would wake with the sense that I wasn’t alone. It would have been natural if it had been Lord Dinwiddie, but the lieutenant had made clear that Dinwiddie was with Philip tonight. So Smythe knew I would be alone. And he knew what I did with men. And I had made little attempt to hide that he attracted me.
He held his cock in his hand, and he was gloriously erect. I had been quite correct in gauging that his cock would be huge, not so much in thickness, but he was impossibly long.
Seeing that I was awake, he moved closer in to the side of the bed and murmured, “I want to cover you. Will you receive me?”
“Of course,” I quickly responded.
He reached down, took my right hand, and moved it to his cock.
“You will take this inside you?”
“Quickly, please,” I responded. I encircled the shaft with my hand and he took his away, moving it to my cock, now also moving to full erection. I stroked him and he stroked me.
Nothing further was said, but in not saying anything else I was accepting him in my bed. Men didn’t usually ask me. Most of them had paid so as not to have to ask and risk the possibility of being rejected. There was no way that a man with a hard body and as formidable a cock as the lieutenant had would be refused from my bed.
He shucked off his dressing gown and came onto the bed, moving over me in reverse, taking my cock in his mouth and offering his to mine. We sucked each other to a near-shared ejaculation, with the only sound in the room for some time being soft sucking noises, groans in tenor—me—and baritone—him—tones, and the clicking of his thick cock ring on my teeth, each eventually taking the essence of the other in our throats. He reversed again and lay there stretched out along my body. We kissed and our hands explored each other, becoming fully intimate.
We were both young and virile and totally lost in the beauty of each other. We were erect again when he coaxed me up on my knees and elbows and knelt behind me with his face in my buttocks crease and his hand fondling my balls and milking my cock. I was fully open to him when he covered me from above, mounted my ass, and slid inside me. I moaned and trembled within his embrace from the feel of that thick cock ring sliding down my channel, sending my passage walls shimmering.
He slid all the way inside me, into my soft core. I shuddered and moaned and panted for him, whimpering for him to be good to me. He instinctively knew I was conquered if he could reach my core. He was more than long enough. He also seemed to instinctively know that if he held at that depth he would switch on the muscles of my channel walls and he would get a caressing of his throbbing cock such as he had never experienced before. He was able to lift me even higher into arousal than other men who could reach my core, because of his cock ring—because his was unusually thick and had a bead attached to the ring that touched and rubbed me intimately, sending flashes of electricity through my body. And because his body was so hard and so beautiful. He was panting and groaning too as my channel muscles rippled over his shaft, causing him to thicken and lengthen ever more. He was able to revolve the cock inside me, moving the bead around to press along my shimmering passage walls and touching me here and there, sending up sparks in my nerves. My levels of arousal were rising as well. I was babbling, begging him to take me to heaven, shuddering at the feel of his steely rod holding steady now inside me deep.
I cried out, “Now, now, fuck the hell out of me!”
And, rising over me high on my buttocks, running his hands under my armpits and back up to hold my shoulder tips, and planting his feet firmly in the mattress on either side of my waist, he started fucking me in quick, long slides running the full length of my channel and deep into my core. His pace quickened and I writhed under him, crying out for him to take me hard, to fuck me completely. Other than mine, only the bedchambers for Philip and Charlie were on that floor in that wing, and I knew they would be empty. Philip was with Lord Dinwiddie and Charlie, who specialized in doubles, no doubt was with Evans and the colonel. So, I let loose with my verbal response to the soldier’s glorious cocking.
We came nearly together and I collapsed on the bed and he on top of me and once again we were stretched out alongside each other. But this time his cock was still buried, and, kissing, we both focused on his cock going flaccid and then, quite soon, hard again, and he fucked me in a side split, once more moving deep inside me and having my undulating wall muscles milk his cock.
Later, I was on my back atop his prone body, with my legs raised and spread, the lieutenant fisting my ankles, his knees pushed in under my buttocks, his cock mining my core deep. I watched the sun come up through the windows as he held me, my back plastered into his chest, my face pointing toward the canopy ceiling of the bed, his arms woven under my armpits, pulling my arms over my head, where I was gripping the top rung of the headboard. His legs were woven through mine, lifting and spreading both sets of legs. He was fucking up into my ass, power driving me. Still fresh and strong, and hard and long, firing off ejaculations left and right and pulling them out of me to the extent that my balls ached from demand for more, more, more.
The man was strong and virile, ever ready, fast loading, vigorous. Conquering.
I lay there after the last salvo, still on top of him, within his close embrace, panting and purring as he spoke to me for the first time since we had commenced with the dance.
“Lord Dinwiddie tells me he’s trying to convince you to join our mission to India. I would enjoy having you along. And having you and having you again. Are you coming to India with us—with me?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Totally exhausted, and totally satiated, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke and went down to the dining room to find all the rest of them finishing their breakfast—smiles on everyone’s face but the earl’s, who had a blank expression—the lieutenant still looked fresh. He gave me a tight surreptitious smile, but he didn’t otherwise reveal that he had fucked me all night. The others seemed to have fuck memories of their own.
We did, later in the morning, though, manage to get lost for a time together during the hunt, and he laid me under an oak tree, performing every bit as forcefully and magnificently as he had through the previous night.
What a fool I was, allowing myself to be completely controlled by a young, hard cock taking up almost permanent residence deep in my core. I was letting my sexual need rule my life. My short-term lust for young cock had determined my acceptance of the life-imprisoning trip to India.
* * * *
“Where is the lieutenant going?” I asked, as I stood at the open entry door of Lord Dinwiddie’s country house and watched Owen Smythe trot off on a horse. Dinwiddie had called my name from somewhere beyond the gigantic foyer of the house with its sweeping double staircase up to the upper floors and had come up behind me. Dinner had been completed on Saturday following the hunt. The earl had announced his impending departure, and his carriage awaited in the graveled forecourt.
“He is off to Southampton to complete voyage arrangements. He is including you in anticipation of you agreeing to accompany us.” Dinwiddie was close behind me. He embraced my chest with one arm and the hand of his other one found my basket and was fondling my genitals through the material of my trousers. I never had been able to resist him. I relaxed back into his arms and placed one of my hands over his at my basket, holding him to me. He nuzzled my neck and kissed me there.
“You didn’t call for me last night,” I said. “You were with Philip instead.” I tried to voice it as just a fact, but my jealousy and hurt showed forth. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy being with Owen the previous night rather than with Dinwiddie, but, as my first, there was always a sense of possessiveness in me for Lord Dinwiddie.
“Variety is the spice, they say, my lad,” Dinwiddie said, obviously trying to make light of the phrase. “I will have you during the mission to India if you agree to go with us. Philip will be left behind. I can dally with him now and savor you later.” I was going hard for him, and my buttocks were pressed into his groin. I could feel that he was hard for me as well. My pelvis went into slow motion, moving against his crotch. His was in motion too. We both were breathing heavily.
“You weren’t there last night,” I repeated. “The lieutenant came to me.” I don’t know if I revealed that to try to wound him for not having me in his bed last night or because I didn’t want to have sexual encounter secrets from him. It doesn’t really matter which of those was the reason. I told him.
“I know. I sent him.” That surprised me. Now I knew I wanted to wound him.
“Did you send him to convince me to accept your proposition to go to India?”
“Did he convince you?”
“Damn you,” I exclaimed. I should not have asked. I should have known he would give me an honest answer. I wanted Owen to have come because he wanted to be with me. I still felt that might be so, but now I couldn’t be confident in that. I still wanted to prick my old lover.
“I sent him to give you the enjoyment of him and to save you from the attentions of someone less desirable,” Dinwiddie diplomatically backtracked. But we both knew he was more honest with what he first said.
I still felt like wounding him. “He fucked me all night. He reached me like no other has. You are good, very good, but he has a dressing ring that makes me come again and again. And he is young. And he is hard-bodied.”
“I can get a cock ring,” Dinwiddie responded with a low laugh. “I can’t do anything about young and I don’t want to make the effort to have a harder body, but I can give you more experience. If it’s more ejaculations you want, I can give those to you.”
“You would have a piercing just because it would give me pleasure?” I asked.
“Certainly. The more pleasure I give you the more I would have in return.”
I couldn’t win over him; he had too much experience at this. “Take me upstairs. Take me upstairs now and fuck me.”
“I would love to do that, but I came to fetch you. Someone wants to speak with you.”
“Will you have me in your bed tonight?”
“Probably not. The colonel has expressed interest in having you for the night. Remember what I said about needing to keep him happy. I am not paying your club high fees for this weekend to indulge myself. I might try Charles tonight, though. Maybe Evans and I will do him together.”
“What? And leave out that poor East India Company man?”
“Horace? Horace Walpole? Don’t count Horace out just because you couldn’t get him hot and bothered last evening. He’s a bit shy being in England. His element is India. And he has his ways. He can make even a slut like you purr.”
“Bastard,” I spat out in frustration. I pulled out of his embrace.
“That would make two of us then, wouldn’t it, Ross?” he said. “Do try to remember who is the master in this relationship. I will fuck you and I will give you satisfaction. But it will be when and how I determine. Now, come along, please. I was sent to fetch you.”
He guided me to his study. He opened the door and then stood aside for me to enter. Dinwiddie didn’t come into the study but remained in the corridor and closed the door behind me when I entered.
Standing behind the desk, looking a bit uncomfortable but ramrod straight, was my natural-born father, Reginald Clarendon, the Earl of Heathdon.
* * * *
“Your Grace?” I said, the question of “What the hell could he want with me?” clearly in my voice, but with the full respect an earl deserved. I was thrown for a loop. Was I called in here because he wanted to fuck me too? How embarrassing would that be? Would I tell him he was my father or just do it, pretend that neither one of us knew?
“Hello, Ross. I need to talk to you . . . son. I’m not here as you might have guessed, because I am part of Daniel’s circle of men who like young men. I’m not like that. But I needed to talk to you about the proposal Lord Dinwiddie has made. And once here, I thought I might as well enjoy the hunt he had on today.”
Son. He’d called me “son.” Was that just sort of a term he’d use for any young man?
“You look shocked,” he said. “Yes, I know that you are my son.”
“But how? We haven’t met in—”
“The photographs you mother had the school take in Edinburgh. She sent them to me. I am paying for your school and she wanted to remind me that you existed. She’s always been assiduous in reminding me of my youthful mistakes—and of the responsibilities of a responsible man.”
I was just a youthful mistake to him. And an object of blackmail. My mother had had another version to tell of that. That he had been her first and had forced her. That she had loved him and thought he loved her and that he would make it right for her. She hadn’t been a peasant. Her father was a baron. It wouldn’t have been a scandalous match—not if he’d given a good reason to leave his wife and daughters. My mother had said, with pride, that I would have been the oldest son. But then my mother was given to fantasy and lies, so how was I to know which version was the truth, if either one?
“Speaking of school, I thought you were in school in Edinburgh. I’ve been paying for you to be in school in Edinburgh. How old are you?”
“I’m nineteen.” He hadn’t even kept track of that.
“Imagine my surprise to find you were a whore for the Marble Crescent Club. I had to learn that from Lord Dinwiddie.”
“From Lord Dinwiddie?” I was shocked by that.
“Yes. How long have you been a prostitute there?”
“A year,” I answered.
“And all this time I’ve been paying to have you in school in Edinburgh?”
“You haven’t been paying me,” I answered, heatedly. “There’s been no money coming to me in that time. I didn’t know you were sending any money. I’d done what I have to survive.” That wasn’t completely true, of course. I’d done it largely for the pleasure of having men’s cocks inside me and, yes, even of being controlled and manhandled, made to feel vulnerable—and dominated by a man’s cock.
“That bitch,” he said, bringing his own heat to the conversation. “She’s been keeping the money for herself.”
“Of course she has,” I retorted. The man knew so little about my mother to doubt that she would, given the chance?
“This decision to go with men and to leave Edinburgh for the Marble Crescent Club—it was your decision alone?”
“Yes, it was,” I answered, giving him a direct stare. My desire to go with men was mine alone; the initial decision that men would fuck me had been Lord Dinwiddie’s. But I saw no reason to discuss that with the earl. I’m sure he wouldn’t have held it against Lord Dinwiddie. My father gave Dinwiddie more regard than he did me.
“You are just like your mother in that regard. Always seeing the release of mutiny. That is one reason we must do this this way. You, like your mother, are completely uncontrollable. I only wish I could rid myself of her as well. Well, that’s a matter of another time,” he said, regaining his decorum. He obviously was trying to be calm and reasonable—above the venality of the situation. He moved back to the real reason he was here and felt he had to talk to me.
“I wanted to talk to you to ensure that you understand you need to accept Lord Dinwiddie’s proposition. Yes, I know what he has proposed—all of it. If you have been a prostitute for a year, I’m not very well going to be able to dissuade you from that. That you seem satisfied being so is no reason for me not to use that to the empire’s advantage. That’s even more reason that you must accept the proposal.”
“To leave England—to go to India to live forever more? In an Indian maharaja’s harem?” There was no reason for me not to baldly state it.
“Yes. To leave England forever. That would be best for all involved.” He could be balder and crueler about his wishes. “Let me be quite clear,” he continued. “You will receive an allowance for as long as you live outside England. If, after leaving on this mission, you ever return, the allowance will be canceled. It’s not Dinwiddie or the Foreign Office that is buying your contract from the Marble Crescent Club. I am buying it. And I am providing your allowance—to absent yourself from England.”
“I see.” And I did see. But I hadn’t seen the total rejection of it yet. That was now to come.
He shuffled around in papers on the desk and held up a few of them. “I have here your redocumentation. It just was put together, which is another reason I had to come to Entworthy. I needed to get it to you before you sailed.”
“My redocumentation? Before I sailed?”
“I want you to become someone else altogether. Not only to leave England but to erase your past completely. Other than an allowance, which my solicitors will handle and that will continue in trust past my death, I want nothing connecting me and you. I have a son now, a real son. I want there to be no impediment to his inheriting the title and properties. From the moment you sail from England, you will be Sean McDonald, born in Glasgow. You will be Scottish, as is your mother. You will be connected to your mother’s family, so you will not lose your pedigree, such as it is through her. You will have no connection with me at all.”
I stood there and looked at him. The look he returned told me that he already no longer knew me, if he ever had.
“I do wish you the best in life, Sean. And I wish you to be gone. Accepting this mission with Lord Dinwiddie is your best opportunity to have a good life. I suggest you think long and hard before considering not to accept it. Learning what you have chosen to be, what you have chosen to do with your life only strengthens my resolve that you not stay in England. If you choose to stay, I should warn you that it won’t be as comfortable to do so as a whore in terms of scrutiny by the authorities that it was before today. Now, I believe my carriage awaits. I bid you good-bye here. I do not wish to see you again no matter what you decide about Lord Dinwiddie’s proposal.”
He brushed past me and into the corridor. I could not look at him. I was seething inside, but I was completely helpless. I doubt if he gave me another glance in passing either. I stood there until I was sure that his carriage was gone.
Lord Dinwiddie was standing in the corridor.
“You knew. You knew all along,” I said to him.
“Yes, of course I did. I once tried to convince your mother to send you away. I realized that you aroused me. I saw the venality of having both your mother and you as my mistresses, at the same time. But I couldn’t help myself. All I could figure was that it would be best for us all if you were sent away, not just to school in Edinburgh, but to a whole different life. But she laughed at me and said you were useful to her and that your lineage was more noble than mine. It didn’t take much detecting to find she had begun life in London as the earl’s mistress and that you had been the issue of that liaison. That said, that was an arrangement and outcome that had nothing to do with me.”
“And you arranged this—this new life for me outside England.”
“It was inevitable,” Dinwiddie said. “The earl could not have you here and alive. That is too much of a threat to his son by his marriage. This is an age-old dilemma for English royals. The earl is a ruthless man. Believe me, this is the kindest solution, the best for you. But the opportunity is there. I haven’t manufactured it.”
“Earlier you told me that I wouldn’t be in your bed tonight. That you were giving me to Colonel Franklin for the night. Is that in my best interest too?”
“Yes, it is. Don’t try to go above your station, Sean. You were brought here as a whore to serve the schemes of the British Empire and to provide sexual release to the men going on this mission for the British Empire. You will live well because you are a handsome young man who takes cock well and are desired by men. That is all there is. There is nothing above that for you. Through this scheme you can transition to being a man who is comfortable in life even when you no longer are sexually desirable to men. That’s the deal, Sean. Take it or leave it. And I must know now, before we go into dinner, before you turn your charm on for these men I need to serve the interests of the British Empire, whether you agree to the terms of this mission. I have no qualms to add that if you want Lieutenant Smythe in your bed again, you will have to go to India. That’s where he is going. Do you agree to the terms?”
“Yes,” I said with a sigh. It had already begun. He had started calling me Sean.
“Good. Let us go into dinner. I will tell Fritz Franklin you will be delighted to attend him tonight. You will act as if you are. And you will act convincingly. I know you can do it; that’s why I have schemed to give you this opportunity. I care for you. I may be one of the few persons who truly does—certainly more than either of your natural-born parents do.”
* * * *
I stood, naked, arms outstretched and restrained at the thick pillars on either side at the foot of the bed in Colonel Franklin’s bedchamber, writhed rather more than I needed to, and gave the officer the sounds of distress he expected, as he strapped my back, buttocks, and thighs. He didn’t take too many liberties with that, and my a-bit-over-the-top reactions were enough to make him go very hard.
He dropped the strap and crouched behind me, licking at the welts he’d raised. He licked down my body and knelt behind me, his hands spreading open my buttocks cheeks, and his face pressing into the crevice. My reactions were more genuine now when he was eating out my channel and had snaked a hand around to stroke my cock.
He stood up behind me, grabbed my hips, and coaxed me to move my legs back, so that my rump jutted out and I hung on my arms from the bedposts. I cried out as I knew he expected me to when he started forcing his cock into my ass. And then I moaned and groaned and whispered my “Yes, yes, yes”; “you’re so big—too big. Be good to me”; and “Yes, yes, fuck me. Fuck me hard!” phrases as he buried himself in me and pistoned me hard with his cock. He was good. He knew what to do and he did it. His cock ring was scintillating as it dragged along my passage walls, making me genuinely pant and grow as well as I would for any man inside me. But he didn’t reach far enough into me to fuck me at my soft core, and I was still numb from the life-changing events of the day.
As he fucked me, he stroked my cock, and I gave him an ejaculation before he reached his own climax. I knew it was important for his feelings of being a man that I came for him and came often, so I managed another one before he finished, doing so by running those who could and did fuck my core through my mind—Dinwiddie, Jerry, Owen, managing to bring the urge to explode up with memories of writhing under each of those, and accomplishing two ejaculations. The colonel obviously was pleased with his virility.
After he released me, he pulled me up onto the bed and we kissed and explored each other’s bodies. He was a military man, hard-bodied and handsome, so that was no problem for me. Then he followed nearly the same progression the lieutenant had the previous night. He reversed himself on my body and we sucked each other’s cocks. Then he took me in a side-split and then standing on the carpet at the foot of the bed and crouching between my spread legs and fucking me while he watched the expression on my face. I gave him a show of being ravished by a master.
We slept between fuckings, rather longer each time than the lieutenant had given me. I left him snoring contentedly.
It was nearly dawn, but I didn’t go directly back to my bedchamber. I went to Lord Dinwiddie’s room, pulling back into a recess in the corridor when I saw James Evans, in an open silk robe, leaving Dinwiddie’s chamber. When he had padded down the hall to his own bedroom, I silently opened the door. Lord Dinwiddie was on his back on the bed, dozing, but still half awake. He had his hand on his cock, which was half hard. An arm was gathering Charlie close into his side. Charlie’s legs were spread open like he couldn’t close them. His hole was gaping like he’d just taken the two men at once, which he probably had. His body was trembling, but he had a dreamy look on his face.
I came over to the bed, shucked off my dressing gown, and lowered myself between Dinwiddie’s legs, brushing his hand away from his cock and taking the shaft in my mouth. When he was hard again, I moved up his body, settled on his cock, taking it deep inside me, and began to rise and fall on it. He was in deep, in my soft-core center. We both moaned, rocking together, giving and receiving pleasure. When he had come, I lowered my chest on his. He turned his face down to mine and we kissed.
“Yes, I think so,” I whispered to him.
“You think what?” he asked.
“I think we’d both enjoy it if you got a cock ring piercing. A thick one, like Owen Smythe has. It has a metal bead that moves freely around the ring, doing interesting things to his partner’s channel.”
He snorted, appreciating both the signal that relations were good between us—that I was good with going to India—and the dig that the lieutenant was competing with him, that I had options in sex partners—that there always was the possibility of mutiny from me.
“You will never get it as good from any as you do from me,” he whispered.
“Perhaps if you get the cock ring,” I answered, stubbornly.
His answer was to gently push me over to the one side of him and to roll over on top of Charlie, grab the young man’s wrists, forcing his arms over his head; penetrate him, as Charlie arched his back and yelped; and begin fucking him in long slides of the thick cock. Charlie turned his face to me, a dreamy, mixed pain and passion look in his eyes, and his tongue flicked out of his mouth.
“Watch,” Dinwiddie turned his head and said to me. “I could be doing this to you, but I’m not. I’m doing it to Charlie. What you and I have doesn’t include commitment. It’s all the hotter for that.”
I lay there, locking eyes with Charlie as Dinwiddie fucked the young man good, probably for the third or fourth time that night, and smiled. We understood each other perfectly. We both thrived on the threat of mutiny, and we both relished the game.
The earl had been right. I now was an unrepentant and irredeemable whore. Just how big was this Maharaja of Sagala’s cock, I wondered. Could I hope that Indian men had two of them?
[To be continued]
