Date: Tue, 7 Apr 2020 19:17:11 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 51 Last of the Line by badboi666 =============================================================================== If sex with boys isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Don't leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty - these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html =============================================================================== Chapter 51 "You and Luke enjoyed pissing on each other, and have enjoyed me pissing in you - and I too when you pissed in my arse. These are not things that all patrons wish to do - but a goodly number do. You have been in the little chamber where four rooms have access, and this room gives us more space. But the stuff that comes out of our cocks is not the only think which gives pleasure to some patrons - not many, but to a few who pay heavily for our time." I wondered at what he said; I was aware that I had found great stimulation from all the pissing things I had done there, but ... surely he can't have meant shit? My face must have betrayed my thinking, for Henry grinned. "You show disgust, Seth, and that tells me that you have worked out what I meant. A small number of patrons come regularly to this very room, equipped as it is for what we have enjoyed, to enjoy shitting - yes, it is true - as much as you and I have enjoyed pissing. To patrons whose interests run to neither, what we do must seem as disgusting as what our shitting patrons seem to you." "What do they do, Henry? Do you offer this as one of your specials?" "As to the last, no, and nor do John or Luke, but two of the men do. As to what happens I can only tell you what Martin - one of the men - has told me. You saw that the Master gives us ale if he knows we are to play pissing games, and since ale takes very little time to make its journey out again there is no need for prior arrangements to be made. But shitting does not work so conveniently, and a patron wishing Martin's services must allow a day's notice if he wishes Martin to shit. If the patron has no wish for any shit other than his own to appear then notice is not required." There was more to running this business than I had envisaged. "And what happens, Henry?" Henry snuggled closer to me and kissed my lips. "What do you think, Seth? If the patron wants Martin to shit on him they agree where it will happen and what each of them will do. If the patron wants to shit on Martin the same. He told me that he has two regular patrons who have very different requirements. One merely lies down in the bath and Martin squats over him, like an animal, and shits on the man's belly. The man then uses both hands to rub the stinking stuff all over his cock and balls, and wanks himself off mightily. Martin pissed on him once and the man was even more delighted. The whole matter lasts no more than 20 minutes and Martin is not required to come, or fuck the patron, or anything. The Master charges £15 for, as he says, the room cannot be used for fully three hours while it is cleaned and the stink removed." My eyebrows rose. £15 was a great deal of money. "Yes, Seth, but that patron comes here on the Tuesday of every second week, so he must be a very wealthy man. But his needs are nothing compared to the other. The second patron is a big landowner in the county, and always arrives heavily cloaked lest he should be recognised entering or leaving. He comes every Friday and he stays for three hours. He has Martin one week and another man - Adam - the other." "Why does he change? Surely his needs can be met by just one of them." Henry chuckled. "They both love doing everything he wants, but Adam and Martin are very different. For one thing Adam is only 20 and is small: he looks no more than 17, and as he is shaven he could pass for even younger." "If this man is so keen on being shitted on by a young hairless lad I am surprised the Master has not sought to persuade you to offer those services." Henry turned to look at me. "Who said that he had not, Seth? All I said was that none of us three young ones do. The Master has prevailed upon Martin to seek to persuade me - that is why Martin has told me so much of what he is called upon to do, but I will not. Now may I tell you?" I steeled myself for having my eyes opened. Nothing that Henry had said so far was exciting, either to my brain or to that more insistent part of me which often led the way in this place. "His Lordship and Martin are not naked when they perform together. Each keeps on a loose undergarment like a -" Quite suddenly I stopped him. "Henry, do not go on. I find the topic disgusts me. What goes on goes on, and I accept that you all have to cater for a strange variety of needs. Say no more about shitting, but are there other things your patrons demand? Less disgusting, perhaps?" Henry grinned. "Martin's secrets will remain secrets, Seth. We are sometimes called upon to whip patrons, and most of us are skilled in the practice. You seem surprised - did you not know that pain and pleasure dwell very close together? Surely the first few times you were fucked the pain of having a cock in your arse turned quickly to pleasure?" I nodded, "indeed, I remember it very well, but whipping? How does that satisfy a man?" Henry settled himself. "Some patrons need only gentle strokes with a whip - not painful, but always with the threat that a strong lash might follow. I do not understand how this brings a man close to spending, but trust me, Seth, for some men it does. We younger ones - John also - are much in demand from three or four regular patrons to provide just this service. They fuck us afterwards, of course, but without the delicate whipping they do not get hard enough to stick their cocks in." He grinned, at some memory of failure, perhaps. "Then there are the patrons who wish to be whipped as severely as can be accomplished. One of them so much so that his back bleeds most heavily. Again I cannot understand how his brain works, but when he had had a dozen or more lashes his cock hardens and a dozen more sees spunk fly from him as vigorously as I've seen. Then he lies there bleeding in his own spunk. After a minute or two he begs whoever is whipping him to stand over him and wank onto his back. We help him into his clothes, our spunk still on him. The Master charges £20, and he comes to us on the first Monday of each month." "And you are one of the whippers?" "Yes, for I have a strong right arm. His favourite is Jason, but the Master allows Jason to whip him only occasionally. That way the Master says he can charge a higher price for being whipped by a blackfellow." ***** I must have been such an innocent in those days, for despite my revelling in some of the treats the Master's house provided - being fucked, being pissed on, and others - shitting and whipping were clearly well beyond what I would have wished even to know about. Looking back I marvel at how little I knew about the darker side of houses like that one when I was but 25 years old. ***** +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ That paragraph, like an earlier one, had been inserted into Seth's manuscript at a much later date: again in small writing. I wondered when he had looked back and made his comments, but neither had been dated. It was still two weeks before I was due to go up to Fisher and the delights which awaited me there (or so I hoped), so I decided to keep going with Seth's story. It seemed likely that his 'Gilead from Stoke' passport would admit him to whatever source of under-age delights would bring him into companionship with the royal family, but that was still some years away. Amos was still a fit man, and his accident would have to be recounted. All I knew were the bare bones: he had fallen from his horse, lain undiscovered for some hours, and been permanently lamed as a result. But I knew from another insertion that he had still been alive - aged almost 70 - when the king had rewarded Seth. That meant that he must have been an invalid for over 20 years. It was late afternoon. I had two hours before the three of us would have dinner. Jack was out somewhere, busy with Hester, and Billy was in an armchair a few feet from me. In the two hours since I had started to read Seth's story he had not moved. I looked over, love for him in my heart. The last thing I wanted was to drag him away from wherever he was, engrossed in his book as I was with my great-great-great-grandfather. I could just make out what he was reading, and I smiled. I wondered what he was making of Sebastian Flyte. Dodo had read it, I recalled, but hadn't made any comment after he'd finished. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ My mood had darkened following Henry's disclosures, and the fuck we had was not as exciting as I had hoped. "It is not you, Henry, I promise." I assured him. "My mood is not good." "I understand, Seth," he said softly, "I should not have made you hear the dreadful things my trade calls upon me to do." His eyes were mischievous: he was chaffing me. His wit lightened my soul, and I kissed him. "Pay me no heed, Henry, the mood will pass." Though I said those words I knew in my heart that I could not recover the earlier feelings I had for the boy. I know this is very foolish, and I am at a loss to explain it, even to myself. One should not hold the bearer of unwanted news responsible for the news he brings, but it is hard advice to heed. Besides, I told myself, I had always planned that my next visit should be to enjoy the delights of a 14-year-old boy. ***** And so, two evenings later, I knocked in that secret way and said 'Gilead', "Gomorrah" came the reply, and the door was opened. I left my hat and coat with the same young man who had received them two days earlier; good, I thought, for John is not on duty there. I went to my favourite sofa and Henry appeared, bearing brandy. "I am glad to see you back so soon, Seth, for I feared that -" I stopped him. "Say naught of it, Henry. It was a bad dream. Now, I wish to spend time with your brother. Is he free?" Henry laughed. "Seth, you have just won me sixpence. Luke and I have wagered that you would choose John before you chose Luke. My pleasure at my win will be great, but not as great as your pleasure with John, I assure you. Wait, and he will be with you." I held the brandy, warming it in my hand. What would an hour or two with John be like, I wondered. For two days, in between my hours of business in Stoke and the surrounding area, my mind had constantly returned to this place, to one of these rooms, to the boy whom I had seen only briefly when he had taken our hats when Robert and I had first visited. My imagination had soared, as it was wont to do when I allowed it free rein to picture a night of wanton depravity (as some would call it, not least my late Grandfather) or ecstasy (as my Father would have said). What will sex with John be like? It had been over two years since I had had Gabriel, and the imagination can build very splendid images of fucking a 14-year-old boy - and one highly skilled in what he does, according to his brother - if there has been no such fucking of a cherub for such a time. Thus it was that when John came and sat beside me - very close beside me - on the sofa my cock was hard and hot. He placed his hand upon it. "Mmm, Seth, 'tis a fine cock you have, and hot for my arse, I can tell. Henry has told me all about you. What would you do with me?" I told him that I wished him to entertain me in Room 5 in the manner to which that chamber was accustomed. He rose, smiling, and moments later the Master came and sat. " £7, Seth, but you know that. Are you like to stay in Stoke long?" I told him that my business was concluded and that I should be returning home the following morning. "Had you told me that I should have welcomed you to pass the night here with John - or with others, should you wish." I was cross with myself, but for no good reason, for I had no knowledge that a patron might pass the night in sinning with a lovely boy. "My effects are still in the inn, Master, but it is good to know that such a facility is provided. You may be sure that I shall accept your hospitality then." The Master smiled. "You are a regular patron, Seth, and when you were first brought here by Robert he earned a commission. Should you introduce a gentleman to us I should be pleased to offer you something similar." I thanked him, saying that I had no-one at present whom I might introduce, but that I was grateful for his offer. Then Henry and John appeared with two flagons each and the business of the evening started. As he set his two flagons down he bent forward and whispered in my ear. "You will love the next few hours, Seth. He is a truly special boy," and he left, winking at his brother. "Well, John, I have looked forward to our hours together for many days. Tell me, what services do you like best." John smiled. "Seth, what matters is what you want. But if it helps you to decide I will tell you that I love being fucked, and Henry and Luke have told me that being fucked by you is something I shall enjoy greatly. I love sucking cocks, and when a gentleman spunks in my mouth I glow with lust at the taste of his spending." My broad smile emboldened him. "You are pleased with those things, Seth, but I must tell you more. Henry and Luke have shared their experiences with you with piss, and Henry has told me that you will enjoy whatever pissing games we play far more than you did with him." I did not think that possible, but if it were then a few hours of intense bliss lay before me. John and I were almost through our second flagon. "Is that beer, John? Can a lad your age drink so much without feeling ill?" He giggled - that sound I love so much when a pretty boy his age makes it - and told me that the second (and third, when it was brought) was just water. "It comes through just as rapidly, Seth, believe me." Henry brought the third pair of flagons and uttered the magic words. "Take these with you." He smiled at us both - was he a touch jealous? Room 5 was as I remembered it. John and I set our flagons down on the table beside the bed. "I am in no great hurry, John, let us take our time," and I stood before him. He was several inches shorter than I, so I bent and our lips met. I was not surprised when his lips opened and his tongue sought mine - a hard, insistent tongue anxious to become intimate with mine. I felt his lithe body tremble, and I was suddenly urgent in my desire to see him naked. A man's body fires me with excitement: I remembered Amos and Arthur and how, as a boy not much older than John, how their manly cocks had thrilled me. Facing a boy, however, my excitement was very much greater, and my cock pressed painfully against my breeches. "Take off your clothes, John," I whispered, "I need to see your beauty." Thirty seconds later we stood facing each other, our clothes tossed to one side, our cocks hard, our chests heaving with the shortness of breath which always seems to attend the nakedness of a body not seen before. John was thin, but not unduly so; growth of a manly body had not yet begun in earnest. That was true above his waist, but below his waist there was a different story. He had no hairs anywhere upon his body, but his cock was, as the list had said, a fine 7 inches. His foreskin, like his brother's, was quite loose, and his balls felt full when my hand reached down to feel them. "Mmm," he sighed, "that's good." He stepped a few inches away from me and turned round, bending at the waist to touch his toes. The spectacle of his arse was unforgettable. A boy, especially one of such tender years in such an establishment, must have taken many cocks of prodigious size into his arse, but of such penetrations there was no trace. His arsehole was pinkish-brown and wholly unblemished, so perfect indeed that I fell to my knees to pay it homage. My lips and tongue worshipped at the shrine I would soon enter, and John's sighs and soft moans foretold that he would be as delighted as I when, at last, I should venture in. "Let us drink the third glass, Seth," the boy murmured, "that way when we piss we will do so with great force. If you can restrain yourself until your piss will not remain in you a moment longer and fill my arse with your cock then, I will almost die with pleasure as the torrent of your piss gushes deep inside me." I was moved to smile at the way this child had learned - doubtless from his brother and Luke - that lascivious talk of that kind would lead a patron to uncontrollable heights of lust; but at the same time as his words fired my loins I knew that my bladder was still some ten or fifteen minutes from reaching the state he had described. "Patience then, John," I whispered to his arsehole, "for I have work to do here. Onto the bed with you, and on your back. You will tell me if you are unable to hold it in yourself." He nodded. I was in no doubt that he was, in fact, far more experienced than I in the process upon which we had started; I was content to allow him to set the pace, at least for the time being. I set to to bring him to a peak of joy by the use of my tongue and fingers. At 14 years he could come three times in the two hours we had available to us. The first would happen while he still had a full bladder - I wished to discover what effect a spunking might have on a boy of tender years with three pints inside him. My tongue washed over his arsehole, and I saw, as I expected, the pink lips guarding the entrance to the anticipated Paradise begin to quiver and to open. I knew that there was oil beside the table and I got a small quantity into my left hand. Rubbing the fingers of my right hand in the oil I slowly pushed one finger into him. "Mmm. I can take more, Seth," he whispered, "three at least." Was I surprised? I cannot say, for although three fingers is a fine size to stick into a boy's arse the arse on this boy was practised at its trade. My second invasion was therefore of three fingers, and I pushed them in until the web between my fingers permitted no further penetration. "Mmm." I looked at his face. It was wreathed in smiles. I looked at his cock. He had drawn his foreskin back and his cockhead, now revealed to my gaze for the first time, was pink and wet - very wet. I moved forward a little, my fingers still deep inside him, and swept my tongue over his exposed cockhead. He gave a great shudder and three large drops of his precious precum juice wept from him. "Tasty, John, very tasty," and I move further up the bed to kiss his lips, allowing the fragrance of his own cock to rest thereupon. "I am close, Seth, and I can spend many times. Bring me off now, for I need to spunk." I smiled. John was about to get his wish. I moved down the bed and placed my lips over his cockhead. If he was as close as he suggested I might have only a few seconds to capture the full taste of his boyhood ere he spunked, and while the spunk would doubtless taste very fine the taste of a boy's cock before he spunks is quite different. Accordingly my tongue lapped vigorously at the silky smoothness of his cockhead, obliging John to grasp my head lest it escape, or cease to complete the task upon which it was engaged. His moans became more insistent ... my fingers pressed more deeply into him, and I moved them, hoping to find his magic part ... his moans became louder ... I took his cock more deeply into my mouth, and only just in time, for his belly muscles rippled and his upper body was suffused in red as the blood rushed to him and the spunk, the precious spunk I had spent two days dreaming of, rose in his cock and poured gush after gush into my mouth. I held his spending, tasting him, savouring every atom of him ... and swallowed, taking his essence into me. I allowed my fingers to slip from his arse. "Oh, God, Seth, that was so good ... but you have brought me to the edge of pissing on myself, and it is you upon whom we both want me to piss. Quickly, to the bath." My bladder, like John's, was ready for the next act of our little drama, and as he had said that his need was urgently pressing I decided to allow my piss to be augmented, the better to satisfy his demand for its eventual release deep inside him to 'die with pleasure', as he had put it. I lay in the bath on my back and John knelt above me, his cock, soft from his recent spunking but still fat with the need to piss. "Where, Seth?" he said. I pointed to my belly and my cock. "Start there, John," I whispered, "but do not let it all out." I closed my eyes and waited. Seconds later a hot torrent soaked my cock and my hands spread the precious liquid upon my belly. It was my turn quietly to say 'mmm'. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 52 as John and I continue our night of delight. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================