Ballard was deep in meditation when the maliciously smiling Brolly entered his
chamber to report Forster’s perfidy. It was not welcome news and, having
passed the problem over to Brutus with detailed instructions as to the brat’s
punishment, Ballard was not in the best of moods. Nothing, not even a warm massage,
improved his spirits, until he saw young William.
The boy sat cross-legged on the bed staring down at his hands which he turned over and over studying them carefully as though some strange tale lived in the whorls of his skin. His robe, black silk shot with crimson and gold, hung open baring his pale chest and long slim legs that came together in an intriguing patch of darkness. Slowly the presence of another in the room seemed to penetrate William’s intense contemplation and he raised his head, regarding his visitor through half-closed eyes, his lashes casting long shadows over his cheeks.
Stepping forward into the room, Ballard held his arms out from his sides and instructed, “Undress me.”
William frowned, head cocked to one side, before sliding off the bed to do as he was bid. His robe slipped unheeded to the floor as he walked, leaving him nude bar the strips of silk bound to his wrists and Ballard felt the breath hitch in his throat and his shaft swell. The last four years had seen a procession of nameless, faceless boys through his bed. Most he took just once, finding some flaw that prevented him from wanting to entertain them again, some crook of leg or slant of eye. A few, like Lyall, and more recently, Forster, had remained for a short while, only to be passed on to another or move up into a more trusted role. The single exception was Brolly, with his devilish delight in all things perverse. He alone had held Ballard’s attention and built himself a lasting place in his heart and life. Though none, even Timothy, had ever exhibited the wanton innocence of this seductive creature.
The tie on Ballard’s matching robe loosened easily and gentle hands brushed tentatively over his chest, guileless eyes searching Ballard’s face for permission. With a nod and a smile Ballard granted it, gasping out his approval when a soft wet mouth latched onto his nipple, and he clasped his hand to the back of William’s head to steady them both. He couldn’t wait to feel that mouth on him, around his shaft, that tantalising tongue busy elsewhere. Tugging on the boy’s hair to break his hold, Ballard shed his robe and took to the bed. William followed, crawling up the length of Ballard’s supine body to place gentle kisses across his mouth.
For a moment Ballard allowed it, revelling in the hesitant touches but, much as he craved the feel of that mouth and much as he planned to indulge that desire at his leisure, his passion was becoming urgent and he wished to divest the boy of his virginity. Tumbling them, so that William lay beneath him, Ballard quickly looped the silken bands around the bedstead, tying them tightly to prevent any unplanned movement, and then sat back on his heels.
In an echo of his position the previous night, William lay splayed before him, his arms stretched above his head, pulling his chest tight and creating an arch to his back that thrust his nipples high. Below, the edge of his ribcage dipped into a concave belly, the muscles rippling as he fought to draw breath, and below again, his pretty cock and tightly drawn sac, the lack of hair making them seem painfully well defined. His legs, open and lax, rested easy on either side of Ballard’s hips, and raised high enough for Ballard to easily see the smooth patch of skin behind his balls and the shadow further back still. He dared not look at William’s face; one glance of those eyes and control would be as mist through his fingers.
“Lift your legs for me, beautiful boy,” he muttered, pushing gently on one thigh to encourage obedience.
William complied, his abdominal muscles flexing as he drew his knees up to his chest, exposing his most intimate parts. Ballard placed a single finger against his hole, tapping lightly, and much to his pleasure, the muscle gave and twitched. The boy was ready; Brutus had done an excellent job in preparing him.
He leaned forward, resting his weight on the boy’s thighs as he lined up the slick head of his shaft, and then, finally, risked looking at William’s face. Scared kohl smudged eyes, flushed cheeks, panting breath through damp raspberry kissed lips, and as he pressed in, deep and hard, Ballard whispered, “Now scream for me, sweet thing.”
The sound that burst from William’s mouth was not a scream, more a long drawn out guttural cry of sheer desperation. His hips pushed higher, his back arching as his internal muscles contracted trying to force the intruder out and inadvertently allowed Ballard further in until there was no further in to be.
“P-please,” he gasped out, his head rolling from side to side on the pillow, not knowing what he was asking for but begging all the same.
“Hush, hush,” Ballard crooned, withdrawing until the tip of his cock was once more outside William’s body. “Such a pretty boy, a good pretty boy.”
Another thrust and he was back inside, deep, deep, deep, and William bucked against him, tightening enough to drag a groan from Ballard’s throat and send his hips slapping against the boy’s buttocks, his control all but gone for a few precious seconds.
“Hold still,” he growled, planting a harsh smack on the pale thigh that rested beneath him. William jumped and Ballard felt the wet stripe of the boy’s erection skid across his belly. That was good. Though he had no intention of doing anything to help, he wanted William to enjoy this.
He started a slow thrust and grind, using his grip on William’s legs to guide him into the perfect position, backside high off the bed and torso bent nearly double under Ballard’s weight. It allowed him to find William’s mouth, to nibble on his lips and, when the boy gasped, to slip his tongue inside and fuck that warm sensual mouth. That was what he needed. Despite the tight fluttering grasp around his shaft, it was William’s mouth and the promise it held of more to come that sent Ballard over the edge, pounding into that pliant body and vocalising his climax in a series of incoherent grunts as his cock twitched and he came, deep, long and well enough that his vision turned white.
Panting hard, he pulled out and rolled over, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling as his body shivered through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Beside him, William whimpered, his erection still hard and leaking against his belly, his legs still raised. Lazily Ballard reached up and untied his hands, saying, “Touch yourself. It is not my charge to bring you to completion.”
Without further instruction, the boy turned onto his belly and began to rub himself frantically against the covers, small hungry sounds spilling from his lips. Faster and faster he thrust, his movements increasingly desperate, and Ballard found himself fascinated. He manoeuvred around so his head was toward the bottom of the bed and he could watch those pale mounds of flesh flex and push, each movement exposing his stretched hole still wet from Ballard’s seed.
Ballard licked his lips. Buggering wasn’t his favourite pastime but even he had to admit that William had the sweetest, tightest arse he’d had in a long time. It was entirely possible he’d try that again, maybe with the boy riding him.
The thought, and the view, were enough to send fresh tendrils of arousal down his spine and he called out, “Hurry, lad. I have need of you.”
“Please, Cropper,” William cried pitifully, “help me. I cannot… cannot…”
“Raise up on your knees and use your hand,” Ballard suggested. “It will go faster and better for you, if you do.”
The view was even better with the boy in that position, and Ballard couldn’t resist. Quickly kneeling up, he caught William around the waist, steadied him, and once more pushed into his body. William sobbed, dropping his head, his hand a blur as he pulled on his shaft. Ballard patted his back, muttering comforting platitudes, and then grasped his hips and began the slow climb towards his second orgasm.
William came moments before him, finally shuddering out his climax with a cry muffled into the soft down pillow where Ballard pressed his face to achieve a more satisfying angle. Ballard followed, snapping his hips and grinding hard, his thumbs digging into the ripe flesh in his hands.
It took Ballard longer to recover this time, lying with William beneath him, just as they had fallen. Languidly he ran his fingers up and down the boy’s sides, listening to both their heartbeats slow, humming soothingly as silent shivers racked William’s slight body.
He may have slept for a while, he wasn’t sure, but at some point Ballard became aware that his comfortable human cushion had stopped shaking, and that William now breathed deeply and regularly. Lifting up slightly, he brushed the stray curls from William’s face and discovered sleepy azure pools, dark with drug induced lust, gazing back at him. Ballard smiled, and like a mirror, they smiled back, opening wider with surprise as Ballard shifted his weight and his cock began to harden again, where it was, still buried in William’s body.
“You’ve done well, my boy,” Ballard said, continuing to stroke William’s hair. “But there is one more pleasure I would have you perform for me.”
William frowned and opened his mouth to speak and Ballard pressed a finger to his lips, saying, “Stay silent. There are choicer activities than speech for that lovely mouth.”
Understanding blossomed across William’s face and he captured the tip of Ballard’s finger, flicking it with his tongue and sucking gently.
Ballard’s smile broadened and he dropped a gentle kiss on the boy’s forehead before rolling off so they lay beside each other. “I would have you touch me, William,” he said. “I would feel your mouth on me, and teach you how to bring me the greatest pleasure.”
The wicked grin that William returned, full of flashing eyes and curling tongue, saw Ballard snatch at him and tug him down into a punishing kiss. It was as though penetrating the boy’s body and his subsequent orgasm had released a vast flood of contained sexuality. The soft hesitancy was gone, replaced with bruising pressure and delight as Ballard felt William’s hands travelling over his body, finding his nipples, his belly, and finally his cock, which rose to full standing under the teasing touch.
And then William was gone, sliding down the length of Ballard’s body to lie between his legs, one hand wrapped around Ballard’s shaft, their eyes firmly locked as he leaned in and pushed his lips tightly over the tip.
Ballard bucked, wanting more and deeper, but William was ready for him, pulling back at the last moment and working Ballard with his fist. That in itself would have been enough to make Ballard come, if he hadn’t done so twice already. As it was he felt his balls tighten and grabbed William’s head forcing that luscious mouth back onto him. This time he wasn’t denied and he hissed loudly as hot wet suction enclosed his cock, the underside stroked firmly by the boy’s agile tongue. Deep and deeper he was taken, the sucking changing from fierce and hard, to soft and fluttering, and back again, until his cock head slipped into William’s throat and the boy’s nose nuzzled into his curls.
It was too much; a flexing tunnel of muscle surrounded and enclosed him, working on the head of his shaft, tiny blasts of air moving around it as William panted for breath, seemingly unwilling to release his treat for a second, and Ballard had no choice but to tangle his fingers in the boy’s hair and scream as he came down William’s throat.
*
William lay across the foot of the bed, staring out of the window and up at the night sky enjoying the lingering buzz from the hashish. He fisted his erection slowly with one hand, while the other played with the skin behind his balls straying occasionally further back to probe at his sore hole. Cropper slept like the dead, only his intermittent snores indicating there was any life in him at all.
It was peaceful. William felt peaceful. Calm, in a way that he never had before, and when his orgasm came it was like falling into clouds, soft and comforting, hardly raising a sweat over his sated body. But it couldn’t last. No sooner had the wash of pleasure died away than his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He slipped from the huge bed, licking dry lips as he searched for something to wear, and soon located the clothing he’d worn to chapel that morning. The thought made him pause. Was it really only that morning? It felt like a lifetime ago, as though it had happened to another person, someone much younger than William now felt himself to be.
Fully dressed, he opened the door quietly, so as not to wake Cropper, and made his way along the short hallway to the living quarters. He found it in semi-darkness, lit only by the coals left to smoulder in the grate and littered with sleeping naked bodies. Brutus, his brother curled up at his side, lay stretched out on the couch, with Brolly in the chair, one leg slung over the arm, his head tipped back and snoring loudly.
Their sojourn in Hypnos’ arms gave William an unexpected opportunity to examine the bodies he had only ever seen clothed, at least partially. The differences were startling. They were all pale, as befitted a gentleman, though both Brutus and Lyall seemed to glow as though their skin had somehow trapped the sunlight within and was only now releasing it. Brolly’s lean lines, accentuated by his position, contrasted starkly with the brothers who were broader of chest and appeared manlier, more adult in form.
Venturing closer to better see them in the dim light, William stumbled and nearly fell over something on the floor. It grunted with the impact of his shoe and, kneeling down, he realised it was Andrew, as naked as the other boys but bound and gagged with the same leather and wood contraption that had been forced into his own mouth. Working quickly he managed to remove the gag and set about untying the hemp rope that bound Andrew’s hands behind his back.
“Don’t,” a voice whispered harshly and William glanced up to see Andrew working his mouth as he tried to say more. Tell tale bruises marked his jaw line and somehow William knew that if he looked closer he would find evidence of more abuse on the other boy’s body.
“Why?” he asked, confused by the request. Surely Andrew did not wish to remain like this?
“Because if I am free when they wake up, I will be punished again.”
“This-this was punishment?” A nod. “Why? For what?” Now William was even more perplexed. What possible crime could have resulted in such barbarous treatment?
“Touching Cropper’s property,” Andrew replied lowering his gaze.
“Cropper’s property?” Andrew was a thief? That hardly seemed likely. William remembered him just a few hours earlier, feeding him cake and kissing and touching…
“Me?” he gasped, horrified when Andrew nodded once again. “No. No, I belong to no man. I am no slave-”
A sound like a cross between a laugh and a wheeze came from Andrew, followed by words clearer now his mouth was a little wetter. “He chose you. Now you are as much his as his boots or cane. More so, perhaps, for he would not punish a servant for borrowing either.”
Something inside William stood up and screamed. Not unlike when Bonny had been hurt during the tossing, though this time it was less frantic because William knew there was something he could do. He could wake Cropper and tell him that he, William, was neither toy nor pet; he did not belong to him, he would never belong to him.
In his mind, William conjured the scene; him standing before Cropper and laying down the law and Cropper… Cropper laughing and calling Brutus who would hold William down as they drugged him and then send him back to that room and the things that were down there; riding whips that had never seen a horse’s rump, leather straps, things to hurt and hold and hinder.
It would never work. He had to find help. There had to be someone at the school who was not Cropper’s to command, who was stalwart and true, who had the power to free Andrew and William himself from this bondage.
A face swam into William’s head; handsome featured, hazel eyed, a chest
broader than Brutus’ and with the respect of every boy in the school.
Here was the face of the man who could help them. Craven. Geoffrey Craven, captain
of the first fifteen and head of house; if he could not help them then there
was no one who could.