His voice is barely a whisper, a hot breath exhaled into the darkness.
I hear his small fist twisting into the bedlinens, the almost imperceptible groan of the mattress springs as he digs his heels in and lifts his hips.
His heart is hammering in his chest, the sound of it an unrelenting pounding against my eardrums, like an insistent visitor rapping loudly and continuously at the door.
My name spills past his bitten lips, again and again, the panted syllables tumbling out gracelessly, thoughtlessly, blindly; he calls and he calls, just as he always does, and I would like to answer that call, to go to him as I always do – but I cannot, because he has forbidden it.
Earlier this morning, well before dawn, he awoke from an apparent nightmare, shouting for me; I came to him, and as he came to his senses and discovered I was standing there in the darkness, his expression changed rapidly from fear to fury, and he rounded on me, lashing out in embarrassment and frustration, as humans often do. I was lurking, he told me, a cold black cloud permeating his dreams and turning them sour, and he would simply not have it, did I hear? Well, of course I heard, and when I calmly explained that I had only responded to his summons, he flushed so fiercely that I could feel the heat of it from several paces away, fixed me with a look such as would kill, and informed me that I was not to come to him at night unless his life were in danger. “And I know you can tell when I am in danger and when I am not, so don’t try to pass off your sneaking about as concern, either!” he railed, deaf to reason, and there was nothing to be done about it, no logic that would sway him.
So now here I am, sitting at my writing-desk at well past two in the morning, attempting to concentrate on my shopping-lists as I listen to my cruel little master’s unanswerable cries. Ah, Young Master, what a fine and tortuous game you have flung at me this evening – is this my punishment? Or are you simply taking advantage of your assured privacy to commit licentious acts without worry of me appearing to tease you for it? How spiteful of you, my little lord! Especially since you know I would only tease you for a moment, before lending you a hand – as well as other things – as a loyal butler should, seeing to your every desire, spoken or otherwise, until you were satisfied.
”Oh, Sebastian… oh… ohhhh…”
This is becoming unbearable; his voice pulls at my very being, tugs the strings of our infernal bond, rattles the chain that binds me to him, and it goes against my very nature to ignore his call. It is absolutely maddening – of which I am certain he is aware – and I am powerless to do anything to alleviate my irritation.
I suppose there is one irritant I could dispel on my own: having been held spellbound by my merciless contractor’s moans for the last quarter of an hour has made me so stiff and ready that my trousers have become quite uncomfortable and somewhat damp, and although I very rarely self-stimulate, I don’t particularly fancy the notion of tolerating it ‘on principle’. It would be pointless and foolish to deny myself such a small relief simply because the insufferable little human I desperately wish to bury this aching nuisance into has shut me out – I would be cutting off my nose to spite my face, as the vernacular has it.
”Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian…!”
This cannot continue. I must go to him. I must get closer to him, breathe his scent, see the expression on his face as he falls to pieces with my name on his lips. If I cannot go into his rooms, then I shall do the next best thing: it is midsummer and his bedroom windows are partially open to let in the evening air, so I shall sit in the large oak near to them and observe him from there. Of course, he will not be pleased if he happens to see me, for then I really shall have been caught ‘lurking’, and it would be quite the disgrace… but I daresay he’s rather too preoccupied at the moment to notice much else.
Oh, how beautiful he is, tossing about atop the duvet with his night-shirt rucked up around his ribcage, one small hand moving under the material as he plays with a nipple, the other wrapped around his dripping length, stroking it hard and fast; his creamy skin is flushed with desire and covered in a light sheen of sweat; his thin legs are wantonly splayed, his hips bucking upward into his fist; his half-exposed chest is heaving, his prominent ribs straining at his flesh as he arches and undulates; his dark hair is mussed and smeared across the pillow untidily; and oh – oh, his face! His eyes are squeezed shut, droplets of perspiration shining on his smooth upper lip and unlined brow, his lower lip caught between his pearly little teeth.
Bracing myself against the tree trunk, I unbutton my flies and take my own twitching shaft in my hand, matching my strokes to my young master’s; he pauses, rubbing his thumb over the tip, and so do I; he squeezes, and so do I; oh, how I would love to bow my head and lick the slippery fluid from his fingers and his slick length, tease the edge of his foreskin with the tip of my tongue, envelop him with my mouth as he twines his fingers in my hair.
“Nnn…! Se-Seba—oh, Sebastian!”
I am here, you delightful, disagreeable, fetching, and utterly vexing brat – oh, I am here, and were I not banished from your rooms like a bad dog, I would make you well aware of the fact. I am here and I am watching you with a devil’s ravenous eyes; I want to suck and bite those tiny pink nipples, lick the sweat from your throat as I pin you down and thrust my oiled fingers in and out of your tight, welcoming sheath until you beg me to mount you. And then, my flinty, unkind little lord, I would turn these tables back on you by flatly refusing to give you what you want, choosing instead to rub my excruciatingly hard cock up and down between your soft, wonderfully smackable buttocks, sliding along the cleft with long, obscene strokes. Perhaps I would smack them – ah, yes, that thought is quite appealing: my arm firmly holding you facedown across my thighs, your helpless body struggling in vain as I slap your tender behind rosy, your indignant cries becoming moans of pleasure as you rock your hips against my leg and rub your chest against the embroidered coverlet.
Then, and only then, would I lay you out and plunge myself deeply into you, growling with gratification when you cry out as my hips strike your sore, stinging flesh; I want to look upon your face as I take you roughly, Young Master – I want to watch the rapture and humiliation dance across your features as you realize that once again, I have made you enjoy something you ought to despise. Let me coax those sweet whimpers from you, my lord, let me deal the blow and kiss the pain away in the same instant; let me punish you and cherish you and inundate you with hellish ecstasy until you fall to pieces beneath me and moan my name in meek submission.
I am very close to coming apart myself, my eyes gleaming, my teeth gritted – and then… he stops. Just like that, he leaves off and lies there panting, soaked with sweat, smelling of unfulfilled want and – oh my – frustration.
He has such a sensitive body, delightfully responsive to touch and quite easy to stimulate to climax… but tonight, on his own, he cannot spend. A slow smile spreads across my face and I feel myself throb against my palm. Call me, my lord. Summon me to your side, and I will relieve your frustration. Bid me to come, and I will bring you the euphoria you seek.
He opens his eyes, the seal’s glow a brilliant, lusty violet in the darkness. “Sebastian,” he murmurs.
“Young Master,” I whisper, audible only to him, a flutter of sound on the periphery of his hearing.
“Sebastian,” he says, a bit louder.
“Young Master,” I reply, in the gentle, intimate tone I would use if we were in bed.
He opens his eyes wider, glaring at the ceiling, and speaks clearly into the black silence around him: “Sebastian, I command you – come here!”
My smile broadens. ”Yes, my lord.”
I am atop him in an instant, tearing the night-shirt from his slight frame, pressing him down into the pillows, swallowing up his startled shout with a deep kiss. He resists feebly for all of about fifteen seconds, then drops all pretense to arch his body up against mine, his eager tongue boldly exploring my mouth, his hands clutching at my shoulders.
“Young Master,” I croon, licking my way down his neck and over the flutes and hollows of his collarbones. “What a magnificent game you devised this evening – you are truly a formidable opponent.”
He threads his fingers into my hair as I turn my attentions to his nipples, tweaking the left while nibbling at the right. “What—nnn!—what the deuce are you—ah!—talking about?”
I raise my head to meet his gaze, then take one of his hands and reach down my body to place it over my aching shaft, which is pulsing and heavy and leaking so much his palm is liberally smeared and slick almost immediately. “Having to listen to you all that time… what a marvelously cruel strategy, my lord, quite well played.”
His eyes widen as he discovers the heavily aroused state I’m in, what he’s done to me. “You… you’re… ”
“I’m nearly desperate to be inside you,” I breathe into his ear in a low, darkly honeyed voice that makes him shiver. “Hearing you call my name like that, begging for it…”
“I-I wasn’t begging for anything!” he blurts, but falls silent again when I press myself into his little hand, roll his hard nipples between my fingers, and begin sucking at his neck. “Oh… Sebastian… ohh…”
“Yes, exactly like that,” I growl, giving his nipples a pinch that makes him gasp. “Again and again and again you summoned me, my ruthless little master, wanting me, desiring me, and I could do naught but sit by, growing harder and hungrier with every passing second.”
“It’s not my fault you’re an evil-minded libertine,” he pants, swirling a fingertip around the wet head of my cock. “You’re ready to do indecent things to me at a moment’s notice, whether or not I provoke it!”
“But you did provoke it,” I answer, gently biting his earlobe. “Doing indecent things to yourself and panting my name as you imagined me performing carnal acts on you… You were quite shameless.”
He gives my shaft a brutal squeeze and sinks his perfectly manicured fingernails into the twitching head, apparently in retaliation for my honesty; this drives me over the edge and I sit up, pulling him along with me, then throw him unceremoniously over my lap. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snaps, kicking his feet in a most amusing – and frankly, adorable – fashion.
“Considering I’m going to be fulfilling your fantasies tonight,” I purr, stroking the kitten-soft globes of his behind, “I think it’s only fair that you help me with mine – and just a few minutes ago, I was having a lovely fantasy about spanking your impertinent backside.”
“Oh no – no no no, don’t you dare—ow!” I slap his left buttock and he kicks again, wriggling beneath the clamp of my arm. “Sebastian, stop this nonsense right this instant, I comm—“
Before he can get a proper order out and spoil my fun, I smack the other buttock, and his command is lost in a yelp. Another slap. Another. Oh, he is in a proper pique, thumping his fists on the mattress and kicking both legs up and down, and I am quite thoroughly enjoying it. I bend my right knee and bring it up, lifting his hips higher, and deal a few hard smacks to the lower curve of his buttocks, right at the point where they meet his thighs. His instinctive response is to throw an arm back to shield himself, which is a grave offense, of course – and what else can I do but pin that arm down behind his back and slap that defenseless little rump twice as hard?
Whether he is writhing with pain or with pleasure, my young master is beautiful, and across my lap like this, his buttocks hot and red, his mouth open and gasping threadbare syllables of my name, he is every bit as beautiful as he was when he was spread across the coverlet, soaked through with lust and panting for me.
I think it is time to blur that fine line between agony and ecstasy.
I stop spanking him for a moment to reach into my waistcoat for the vial of oil, and he remains perfectly still, breathing hard; I release his arm to pour the oil over my fingers, and just as he’s about to make a dash for it, I hold him down again and slowly, very slowly, slide a finger into him. He gasps in surprise and clings to the bedding, so I bring my knee up a bit more, raising his hips still higher, forcing him to put his chest against the bed – and when I withdraw my hand and slap his behind again, he jerks forward and his nipples rub across the French knots on the embroidered coverlet.
He yelps and I smack him again, again – and then I slide my finger back into him, thrusting it in and out several times… and when he begins to rock back against my hand, I withdraw and resume the spanking, admiring the way his flesh moves when struck, the way the surface of his skin pales for an instant and then turns red. I push two fingers into him this time and I’m painfully hard, the head of my cock pressing against his lean abdomen; he notices and tries to move away, but I plunge my fingers deeper and raise my knee a little more, grinding into him, and he moans.
His eyes go wide with shock and horror at the sound he’s just made, so I spank him a few more times, pushing his chest across the coverlet, then slip my fingers back in… and by the time I start slapping his quite thoroughly reddened backside again, he’s so confused that he’s rocking his hips and moaning, his small cock fully erect and dripping, the pain and the pleasure melting into one another.
I push three fingers in easily, moving with inhuman speed as I thrust them in and out; he’s writhing and moaning and pumping his hips, and when I sense he is nearing the brink, I pull my hand away abruptly and use that same speed to spank him, perhaps with a bit more enthusiasm than truly necessary – but honestly, all things considered… could one fault me terribly for it?
To my astonishment – and his as well, I’m sure – he climaxes with a strangled cry, clutching the bedding in his fists and biting down on the cloth to muffle the sound; I slide my fingers back into him, stroking the hidden places he finds most pleasurable, and he spills down my thigh and all over my trousers, his hips jerking with each spurt.
I am at my limit, and when I put him on his back and part his legs, I waste no time before pushing into him and sheathing myself to the hilt. He’s so hot, inside and out, quivering all over, completely undone by the unfamiliar sensation of pleasurepain; his hands slide over my back, my shoulders, my arms; I bend down to suck and lick his abraded, over-sensitized nipples, and he strokes my hair, his head tossing back and forth on the pillow in near-delirium; I doubt I’ll last very long, given the amount of time I had to hold back and the incredibly arousing and well-spanked little tyrant clinging to me, but…
“Sebastian,” he says, his voice so tremulous and heavily saturated with passion that it’s nearly a sob. “Oh, Sebastian, oh…”
He’s getting hard again already, spreading his legs, pushing his chest up into my kisses, tilting his hips up to meet my thrusts. Oh, Young Master, how exasperating, how vexatious, how arrogant and remarkable and perfectly astonishing you are, driving me to the very edge of sanity with your childish games and foolish pride and immensely desirable self. Yes, yes – let me in, spread yourself open wide for me, offer yourself up to me, let me fill you over and over again as you stare up at me with eyes glassy with pleasure and greedily beg me for more.
“Young Master,” I pant against the shell of his ear, thrusting harder, faster, my voice a sordid, sinister growl that has him trembling and weak beneath me. “I’ve wanted to fuck you all evening.”
“Don’t – ah! – don’t be so vulgar!” he scolds, squeezing around me.
“You wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you?” I’m licking the salt from his skin, tweaking his raw nipples, making him cry out. “Tell me.”
“No!” he exclaims, “I didn’t want—ah!”
“Little liar.” I grip his hips and lift them up a bit, pounding into him with enough ardor to have us both gasping. “You wanted me to fuck you… that’s why… you were calling for me… as you pleasured yourself. We both know it… so just say it.”
“I… I didn’t… Stop saying that…!”
I go perfectly still over him, breathing hard against his chest; my tongue ever so slightly caresses one of his nipples, and I’m twitching deep inside him, my body as confused by the sudden change as he is.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Young Master?” I rumble, and he makes an exasperated huffing sound. “If you don’t want this, I’ll stop – however, if you want me to continue…”
“You absolute bastard!” he practically shouts. “You sly, underhanded, unscrupulous dog! How dare you try to force me to say crude things in such a way!”
I kiss him, long and slow and deep, rolling my hips ever so slightly, then withdraw just far enough to look into his eyes. “I only want to please you, Young Master,” I purr in my most seductive tone. “I shall do anything you wish of me, if only you ask… so tell me: do you want me to stop, or do you want me to fuck you?” I rub my thumbs lightly over his nipples and roll my hips again, dropping sugar-sweet kisses onto his sulking mouth. “Tell me…”
There is a moment of gloriously tortured silence before he finally mumbles, “Yes.”
“Yes, what, my lord?” Ah, this is such fun!
He squirms, inadvertently clenching around me, and gasps when I give him a short, teasing thrust in response. “Yes, I w…an…t… you… t…o…….”
I reach down to grasp his stiff shaft and begin to stroke it very slowly. “To…? Come now, Young Master, this isn’t that difficult. Just tell me what it is that you want, and you shall have it.”
“Gah!” He grits his teeth in frustration, and then finally murmurs – with a charmingly red face – “I… I want you to… to fuck me, Sebastian.”
“Well done,” I say, beginning to thrust in time with the maddeningly slow strokes of my hand. “Again.”
He gives me a baleful glare but repeats, a bit louder: “I want you to fuck me, Sebastian!”
I’m using my mouth and my free hand to toy with his nipples now, thrusting and stroking a little faster but giving him nowhere near the amount of stimulation he’s craving. “Again.”
“Oh, for—I want you to fuck me, Sebastian! Please, just… just fuck me!” The desperate, wavering note in his voice almost makes me spend – how enticing he is when he begs!
“Good boy,” I croon, kiss him again, and then return to the previous rhythm, taking him so hard and fast that the pillows crumple up behind him and squash against the headboard.
“Sebastian, Sebastian, fuck me!” He’s thrashing beneath me, passionate and wild as I’ve never seen him before, having abandoned himself to his own desires. “Fuck me!”
I pull out, turn him over, and enter him roughly from behind; he lifts his hips up to me, pressing his chest to the mattress; I look down and find myself enthralled by the sight of my cock sliding in and out of him; my gaze travels over his sprawled legs, his narrow, branded back with its delicate row of protruding vertebrae, his cherry-red buttocks, so hot under my gentle palm.
“Harder!” he commands, and I am all too willing to obey, pounding into him ruthlessly. “Yes, yes, fuck me, Sebastian, fuck me, ah—ah!!”
My control is slipping, my mask is in danger of falling away – this boy, this human, this soul burns brighter and hotter than the sun, scorching my exterior until it crumbles before his brilliance and blows away like ash in the wind, and pitch-black feathers are falling softly from thin air to alight on the duvet, the pillows, my young master’s back, his hair. The sounds I am making are not human, the black fingernails that scratch over his skin are getting longer and sharper, I can feel my teeth lengthening in my jaw, and I am nearly snarling when I call him a shameless little slattern and slap his upturned behind.
He yelps, squeezes me tightly with his inner muscles, then repeats even louder: “Fuck me, Sebastian, fuck me hard, ah! Sebastian, Sebastian…!!”
Those ribald words, spilling off his tongue in broken childlike tones, stir me even more; I am spanking him outright, smacking his luscious backside between thrusts, and he takes it all, demanding more, more, harder, faster. “What a naughty child!” I exclaim with a laugh. “Such a brazen mouth you have.” Each slap makes him clench his buttocks and squeeze me more and more tightly, until I am consumed by the desire to fill him with my seed, to put my mark on him all over again from the inside out, to claim him – body and soul – as mine and mine alone.
He shudders, sinks down into the bedding with a soft, helpless moan, and whimpers passively: “Oh… ohhhh, Sebastian…”
I loop my arm around his ribcage and pull him upright, resting his weight on my thighs as I continue to thrust deeply; I grasp his shaft and stroke it quickly, rubbing the dripping tip with my thumb; he reaches up to clutch at the back of my neck, pressing himself against my chest, conforming his body to mine.
“Ah, Young Master,” I manage to groan, my cheek against his hair, and kiss the side of his neck – just before I sink my teeth into his vulnerable shoulder.
He cries out, knotting his fingers in my hair, and spends over my hand, hot and pulsing; surrounded by him, soaked in him, swallowing down scant drops of his rich blood, I am overcome, and I spill into him with a deep growl, clutching him to my chest possessively.
When the spasms have ceased rocking us both, I carefully pull out and lower him to the pillows, settling him on his side; I gently inspect the various marks and bruises I’ve left on him, ensuring that none of them require serious attention, then gather him into my arms, sheltering him in my embrace.
We lie together like this in silence for some time, his head against my chest, his arms curled childishly between us, the delicate fingers of one small hand tracing languid, aimless patterns over my breastbone. He suddenly seems so small and fragile, so alive, his satiated body warm and thrumming beside me. I listen to his heartbeat slowing to a normal pace, count each precious mortal breath he takes as his exhausted panting settles into deep inhales and exhales that smell faintly of the chocolate biscuits he ate for his bedtime snack.
His hand curls lightly around the lapel of my waistcoat and he presses his face into my shirt, reminding me of a kitten snuggling close and kneading with its tiny paws. I cannot help but stroke his velvety pink cheek, so like the little pads on the bottom of a cat’s foot, and he makes a quiet sound full of amusement.
“I shan’t be able to sit properly tomorrow, you realize.”
“That is the likely outcome of such a thorough spanking, yes.”
He blushes furiously, which I find beguiling. “I expect you to reschedule all of my appointments for the entire day, and the next as well – I am not going to sit at the desk and suffer for hours simply because a certain butler couldn’t control his depraved urges.”
I incline my head in as graceful and dignified a bow as I can manage while lying atop my master’s sweat-drenched bed with my hair in disarray and my flies open. “Of course, my lord – I shall see to it first thing in the morning.”
“Good. Now draw me a bath, I’m horribly sticky. And change the bedlinens as well.”
“Yes, my lord. Shall I summon you when the bath is ready?”
He glances up at me, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “No, I’m entirely too sore to walk – you shall have to carry me. And do mind how you set me into the tub, as it will be much harder than the mattress.” He heaves a very put-upon sigh. “Perhaps I shall simply have to stand… oh, but I’m not at all certain I can do so for such a long stretch of time, given how painful it would surely be…”
I can’t help but chuckle. “If I may be so bold, Young Master, I could sit in the bath with you and hold you on my lap – I’m sure I could make you much more comfortable.”
He sputters out a little laugh of surprise. “Ever the dutiful servant. Very well – although you don’t deserve such a treat, I’ll allow you to bathe with me this evening, out of sheer necessity. You could use a dash of soap as well – you’re rather a mess yourself.”
I arch a suggestive brow at him. “That is the likely outcome of such a thorough—“
“Sebastian!” he blurts, attempting to look scandalized. “I’ll hear no more of your lecherous talk this evening! Now go and draw my bath, and be quick about it.”
“Yes, my lord.” I rise, intending to comply with his orders promptly… but I’ve no sooner sat up and buttoned my trousers when a pair of spindly arms loop about my neck from behind.
“Sebastian,” he whispers into my hair, his bony little body pressed against my back.
I fold a careful hand over his wrist, surprised by the oddly affectionate gesture. “Yes, Young Master?”
“…It really does hurt, you know.” I can feel the heat of his embarrassment on the nape of my neck.
I could remind him that he really hadn’t seemed to mind, by the end – but that would be throwing salt into the wound, so to speak, and I am loath to spoil his unusually sweet-tempered mood. “Then after I’ve bathed you,” I tell him in a warm, gentle voice, “I shall tend to all of your injuries one by one with the utmost care, apply salve and bandages where necessary, and I then shall see to it that you are as comfortable as possible when I tuck you into your freshly-changed bed and bid you good-night.”
His forearm twitches ever so slightly as he murmurs: “Will you make me a cup of hot milk with honey?”
My overbearing little contractor, asking me to do something for him! I may have to write home, to be sure the neighborhood hasn’t frozen over. “Certainly.” I kiss one of his slender hands, his smooth, aristocratic skin like silk under my lips.
“I shall have to have breakfast in bed tomorrow.”
“But I shan’t lie about in bed all day, I’d be bored half to death – and given the size of the mansion, it will be difficult for me to walk from room to room. Therefore, you will carry me if I should have to go more than a short distance.” He nuzzles into my hair, cuddling up against me in a most alluring fashion. “And of course, I expect you to get all your other duties finished on time.”
Oh my… that will ensure that the next two days are excessively difficult for me. I must admit I did not see that move coming, the clever, winsome little wretch. “Of course, Young Master.”
“Good. Now see to my bath.” He releases me and lies back on the pillows, his provocative nude form a tempting delicacy I find it difficult to move away from… as he planned, I’m sure.
“Very well then… please excuse me.”
Desires often have a way of bringing about unintended consequences, sometimes unpleasant, painful, or inconvenient ones; when faced with the choice of satisfying one’s desires or foregoing them, it is important to consider the possible consequences of each, and determine whether the satisfaction is worth the risk of a poor outcome. Because I chose to fulfill my desires this evening, I am now saddled with a huge amount of extra work, must somehow do all my regular duties while caring for and carrying about a convalescent whose injuries were inflicted by none other than myself, and I shall have to endure having continuous barbs spat at me by said convalescent for having gotten him into the situation.
And when all is said and done… it was worth it.