by JL Merrow
Something about the sudden stillness in the steam-filled air had led him to look up at Robert, who was staring at him a trifle oddly.
It was the moment, Algy realised, to declare himself. To lay his cards—and, if successful, himself—upon the table. Or, of course, any other convenient surface. Algy gathered up his courage.
His courage gathered up its skirts and ran, mewling, for the door. “Ah,” he said quickly. “I mean, for the scrubber.” Mortified, he entertained brief thoughts of diving headfirst into his bath and drowning himself. “That is, the person whose job it is to, well…”
“Scrub?”
“Yes. Exactly. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m in the habit of consorting with low women.”
Robert regarded him, an unreadable expression on the valet’s face. “My old Ma was a scrubber,” he said finally.
“Oh?”
“Course, that was in her younger days. Cleanest doorstep on the street, we ‘ad.”
“That’s…Good. Very good. Carry on, Robert.” Algy fled, quite forgetting he’d intended to take a bath.
* * * *
As matters stood, Algy was genuinely glad when Robert announced the arrival of his friend Cedric. Old Chalky was always good for a distraction from one’s own abject failure in whatever endeavour, Algy had found. Many had been the time in their mutual schooldays when Algy had sought solace in his friend’s company after an unsuccessful midnight raid on the kitchens or, as might be, the groundsman’s bedroom.
Robert served drinks, then stood respectfully by the wall awaiting orders. And eavesdropping shamelessly, of course, but Algy could hardly begrudge the fellow that.
“So what brings you here, old chum? Life at Blithering too deathly dull without me?”
“No, actually it’s this business about Robert. I’ve been feeling terrible about the whole thing. You see, it was I who broke that blasted vase. I was smoking a quick cigarillo before dinner, and I found myself without an ashtray. So I thought, finally, this hideous old thing of Mother’s can be of some use. Unfortunately, I was a little less than careful while tapping off the old ash, and before I knew it, there was an almighty crash and a hearth full of antique Chinese smithereens.”
Algy regarded his old friend with eyebrows raised. “And it never occurred to you to just tap your ash into the fireplace?”
Cedric frowned. “I’d have had to crouch down to do that, or it would have gone everywhere in the draught from the flue. Either way, my trousers would have been ruined. You know what Woundsworth is like when I sully my clothes. Gives me that look, as though I’m far too dim to be allowed out in public.”
“I can’t imagine where he gets that idea.”
“Neither can I! Anyway, long story short, no sooner had I realised what had happened than the door opened. Of course, I wasn’t going to stick around to get the blame. Mother would have sent me to bed without any supper, as likely as not, and we were having pheasant. You know how I love pheasant, especially with redcurrant jelly—”
“I thought you said this was the short version?” Algy tapped his fingers.
“Don’t interrupt, Algy. Now I’ve forgotten where I was.”
“Running away from the scene of the crime.”
“Oh! Yes. Well, I didn’t really have time to run. So I just dived behind the sofa. And, well, you know the rest. Poor old Robert got the blame, and I was just going to slip him the money on the q. t., plus a little extra, of course, but he, ah, went and took matters into his own hands.”
Algy experienced a somewhat light-headed moment at the thought of Robert taking matters into his own hands, but forced himself to concentrate. “And now?”
“Well, I had to come clean, of course. There was a fearful row. But anyway, I’ve persuaded Father that Robert should have his job back.” Cedric leaned back in his chair and beamed at them happily.
Robert’s expression gave no hint of his feelings. “That’s very kind of you, sir.”
“Hang about.” Algy frowned. There might have been the suspicion of a pout in there, too. “The man’s my valet now. You can’t go stealing him from me. You had him, and you lost him, and he’s mine, now. Finders keepers.”
Cedric’s brow furrowed. “But you know he hasn’t been trained as a valet. Wouldn’t you rather have someone experienced?”
“Robert is quite experienced enough for me,” Algy snapped, thinking back to that scene in the stables, and the sight of firm, muscular buttocks pumping away forcefully, while Algy’s hand did its best to ape the rhythm…”What?” he demanded, coming back to himself to realise Cedric had gone a little pink.
“Oh. Ah. Nothing, old chap. I hadn’t realised you and Robert were—”
“Pas devant les domestiques!”
The furrows deepened. “Algy? Why are you speaking Greek? You know I was always terrible at that sort of thing at school.”
Algy sank his head into his hands, and groaned.
“Anyway, if that’s the way it is,” Cedric carried on briskly, “of course I shouldn’t dream of insisting on having him back. Although I must say, you don’t hang around, do you? You must have barely had time to have the linen laundered since old Hibbert hopped out of bed.”
Algy sighed, and resolutely did not look at Robert. “Chalky, would you mind awfully taking a walk? A nice, long one would be good. I should like to consult with my manservant.”
Cedric nodded. “Oh, absolutely. You ‘consult’ away.” He tapped his finger to the side of his nose. “Mum’s the word. I’ll be at my club.”
Once Cedric had ambled out of the door, Algy glared at Robert. “Well, you’ve been pretty quiet.”
“Didn’t think it was my place to say nothing, my lord.”
“Anything. Not ‘nothing.’ And yes, of course it was your place. Your place was what we were bloody well talking about.”
“Yes, my lord.” He paused. “What I don’t understand is, if it wasn’t you what broke that vase—he’s right, you know, ugly as sin that ‘orrible thing was—why’d you say it was? You didn’t owe me nothing. Anything. My lord.”
“I don’t suppose you’d believe I’m just a naturally kind-hearted person? No, don’t answer that. Look, if you want to go back to Blithering, if you’ve got someone you’re missing back there…” Algy girded himself to bite the bullet. “Dash it all, I saw you in the stables. With—actually, I have no idea who you were with. One of the grooms, I suppose. He had rather delicate ankles. Anyway, the point is, if you want to get back to him, I shan’t stand in your way. But otherwise, well, I was hoping perhaps we might come to some sort of arrangement. If the idea is agreeable to you.”
Robert’s face was guarded. “And exactly what sort of arrangement might that be?”
Algy shrugged, going for nonchalance but achieving something more akin to a nervous tic. “Well. You are a fellow who enjoys the company of other fellows, and as it happens, so am I. It seems to me it might be to our mutual advantage were we to, shall we say, cut out the middle man?”
Robert frowned. “I don’t want nuffin’ to do with no freesomes.”
“Threesomes. With a th. And it’s nothing. No-thing. And who on earth mentioned threesomes? I was intending to keep this strictly between ourselves.”
Robert pursed his lips in speculative fashion. Then he nodded. “That’d be all right, then.”
“Really? You’d be, ahem, interested?”
“From what I’ve seen, you’ve been ‘iding a pair of pretty delicate ankles yourself under them posh wool trousers.” Robert gave a roguish wink.
Algy felt all hot and fluttery inside. “I should warn you, I have certain…unusual tastes,” he confessed.
“Yeah?”
“I, ah, appreciate a firm hand. Within the context of said arrangement.”
“Ooze?”
“What?”
“Ooze ‘and?”
“I—oh. WHose Hand. That would be, ah, yours.” He swallowed. “And I might, let us say, encourage a certain informali
ty of speech that wouldn’t be appropriate in public. Say, for instance, you wished to, ah, chastise me. Verbally, I mean. Although the other sort would do quite admirably, too. Would any of that be, ah, objectionable to you?” Algy was quite certain his face was redder than a beetroot.
“Sounds all right to me, my lord. Tell yer what, d’you want me to get yer bath ready?” Robert smirked. “Help your lordship get ‘is clothes off, that sort of fing? Thing.”
He was a man of action. Algy rather thought he might be in love. “Excellent idea. Although perhaps it would be as well to run downstairs first and let the rest of the servants know they have the afternoon off.”
Robert laughed. “Bloody hell. I was wondering what Cook was on about. She was complaining only this morning they ‘adn’t ‘ad no afternoons off since I got ‘ere, and why didn’t I do something about it?”
Algy shrugged a little awkwardly. “One’s servants do rather accustom themselves to one’s ways.”
A short while later, the house was empty and silent. Save for the sound of Algy’s pounding heart, which he was certain would have the neighbours round to complain any moment. Robert had a roguish glint in his eye as he entered the bathroom where Algy awaited him, and shut the door. “So what ‘appens now? My lord.”
Algy swallowed. “Now, we take off our clothes. All of them, if you wouldn’t mind. I only saw one side of you back at Blithering.”
“Yeah, but it was me best side.” Robert grinned, and slapped his own arse. Algy had to close his eyes briefly at the sight and, Lord, the sound—and when he opened them again, Robert was standing there naked in front of him.
“Good God, man, you’re magnificent,” he gasped, mesmerised by Robert’s broad, well-furred chest, his flat stomach and, most importantly, the way his cock swelled and rose under Algy’s appreciative gaze. It soon stood bolt upright, and both length and girth put Algy irresistibly in mind of the huge old horse chestnut trees at Fetheringham Hoo. He’d seen one of them being felled, as a boy, and it struck him that had its fall been filmed using one of those motion picture cameras the French were so fond of, and had the film of that fall been played backwards, it would have looked uncannily like the majestic rise to tumescence of Robert’s manhood.
As a lad running about his father’s estate, Algy had always enjoyed watching the gardeners fell trees. There was just something about a man pounding away rhythmically, the sweat on his shirtless torso gleaming in the sunlight and both hands upon his mighty chopper….
Robert’s voice cut into Algy’s reverie like a butter-knife that had been dipped in honey. Algy couldn’t wait to become the muffin for that knife. “Want me to ‘elp you undress, my lord?”
“That, ah, that might be wise.” Algy was positive he’d had the use of his fingers this morning when he woke up, but they appeared now to be so many nerveless sausages affixed to his hands by some jovial butcher.
Robert’s fingers, by contrast, were nimble creatures, darting across Algy’s body to swift effect. Algy found himself entirely distracted from their progress by Robert’s proximity. His naked flesh seemed to radiate heat in Algy’s direction, and his scent was a heady mix of brilliantine, carbolic soap and cheap tobacco. Algy would have to do something about that, he decided deliriously. Make the man a present of a box of French cigarettes.
Soon Algy’s shirt and trousers were a neat pile upon a chair, and his silk undergarments swiftly followed. Algy stood in the bathroom as naked as the day he was born, although, he hoped, rather more physically appealing than he had been back then. Robert was giving him a frank appraisal that had Algy’s cock sitting up and begging. Which, come to think of it, was exactly what the rest of him wanted to be doing right now.
Algy’s knees seemed to give way without any need for instruction, dropping him to the floor and allowing him to nuzzle happily into the base of Robert’s mighty Doric column. The scent of musk and honest, manly sweat suffused Algy’s nostrils, and Robert’s balls tightened pleasingly under his ministrations. “Tell me what to do,” Algy pleaded.
Robert pulled away slightly. “‘Ang about, I fort you’d done this before.”
Algy rolled his eyes. “Obviously I’ve done this before. Firm hand, remember?”
“Oh. Right.” There was a short silence, then a sudden intake of breath. “Orl right. Suck it, then. You ‘eard me. Get your mouth on my prick.”
Algy’s eyes fell shut in heady pleasure as Robert’s prodigious erection plunged between his lips. The salty flavour was like ambrosia on his tongue, and even the gagging produced by an over-enthusiastic thrust was familiar and welcome, like an old school chum turning up unexpectedly for dinner.
“That’s right,” Robert was saying. “Suck it hard. Go on. You can take it.” Algy’s cock twitched happily between his legs.
When he judged that Robert was in danger of losing control, Algy pulled back.
“Oi! I never said stop,” Robert grumbled, but his gaze was alert. Waiting for Algy’s cues.
“I’m sorry,” Algy said abjectly. His heart pounded. This was all going so well, and he might just be about to ruin it utterly, but Lord, it could be perfect, if Robert wasn’t about to turn from him in disgust. “But I need, well, that is, if you wouldn’t mind…Obviously, if you’d rather not, we can…but I really would be most awfully grateful if you’d…”
Robert rolled his eyes. “Bloody ‘ell, just spit it out. ‘ow bad can it be?”
Algy groaned. “Piss on me.”
“You what?”
“I said, piss on me. On my head.”
“Bloody hell, you don’t ask much, do you? Gimme ‘arf a mo.” Relief flooded through Algy as Robert turned away, most definitely not in disgust if the stiffness of the man’s cock was any judge. The faint sound of times tables being recited reached Algy’s ears as he waited, head bent, the bathroom linoleum beginning to stick to his knees.
“Fifty-six,” Algy interjected helpfully.
“Wot?”
“Seven eights are fifty-six. Not fifty-four.”
“Oh, buggering hell…Tell yer what, though, that’s done the trick. Here we go.”
Algy groaned again as the hot stream hit him. The first salvo went awry, striking his shoulder, but Robert adjusted his aim and soon that rich, golden torrent was soaking Algy’s hair and running in rivulets down his face.
“Look at me,” Robert snarled, obviously getting into his role, and with a whimper Algy looked up. Robert’s prodigious fountain of piss struck him full in the face, getting in his nose, his ears and his eyes where it stung like the dickens. It was heaven. “That’s it,” Robert growled, shaking the last few drops off his prick. “Er, now what?” he asked uncertainly.
Algy rolled his stinging eyes. “Make me clean it up!”
Robert nodded. Obviously that made sense to him. Finally. “Orl right, get that shirt and wipe up this mess you’ve made.”
Algy scrambled to obey, mopping up the puddles on the lino with Jermyn Street’s finest. As he worked, more drips fell from his sodden hair, elevating his task to Sisyphean status.
“That’ll do,” Robert grunted after a goodly while. “Now…”
“Punishment!” Algy cued him.
“Right. I want your head on the floor and yer arse in the air.” Algy did as he was bid, almost panting in his eagerness. “Did I say put yer ‘ands behind yer back? Put ‘em on the floor. I don’t want you touching me with your filthy hands.” He waited while Algy complied. “Now, what sorta punishment d’you think you deserve for making such a filthy mess?”
Appreciating Robert’s finesse in staying in character while asking instructions, Algy waggled his arse a little. “Spanking,” he groaned.
“What was that? Speak up, your slutship, I din’t ‘ear you!”
At Robert’s roar, Algy whimpered, mortally afraid he was going to come before he was even touched. “Spank me! Spank me hard! I’m a filthy, dirty whore and I ought to be spanked!”
There was an agonizing pause—then a f
ar more exquisitely agonizing thwack as Robert’s hand met Algy’s buttock. Algy yelped.
“You all right, my lord?”
“Yes! Spank me harder! I’m a slut, a whore—give it all you’ve got, man!”
Algy was rather certain he could hear a muttered “Bloody hell!” but it was only moments before that thick, meaty hand came down on his tender arse, again and again. Algy whimpered with each strike, skinning his knees as he skidded forward on the linoleum with the force of the blows. His buttocks were on fire, and his mind was, too. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had hit him so hard, and his balls felt like they were about to burst. “Please!” he sobbed, and the onslaught ceased.
“Please what?” came in cautious tones.
“Please bugger me!”
“Finally,” Robert breathed, and Algy heard the sound of spitting, then felt huge gobbets of saliva worked into his crack. And then it was the turn of a huge cockhead, which stretched him mercilessly, forcing its way in.
Algy’s breath came in thick sobs as that massive manhood invaded his insides. “Yes, more, yes…” he babbled, vaguely conscious of swearing coming from behind him. “Use me, plough me, take me like the filthy little sodomite I am…” And then, heaven of heavens, Robert changed the angle and started to batter at his prostate, and then, oh Lord, there was the massive sting of a strong hand striking his already sore buttock, and Algy was sobbing and coming, pulsing out his soul onto the linoleum. He was barely aware of Robert’s continued thrusting, finally coming to full consciousness of his surroundings as Robert stilled and shuddered, filling him up with honest, working class seed.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Robert breathed, collapsing on Algy in a not-altogether-comfortable way. “You little fucking pervert. My lord.”
Despite being squashed, and aching all over from a myriad little (and not-so-little) hurts, Algy was floating on an ocean of happiness. “Bloody right,” he murmured. “Robert, you were marvellous.”