Summer of 1970

Rory went to bed too, in another part of Castle Roy and on the floor below, but he did not sleep. He merely lounged naked on the bed-cover, with the cool, pale moonlight bathing his skin. He skimmed a pornographic novel that he had picked up on a visit to France. He had no intention of sleeping. He would let Fergus get some sleep and then he would go and join him, at about 2am. He rehearsed in his mind what he was going to say:

"You're going to be fucked! I see it as my absolute duty to relieve you of the burden of your virginity. At you age it's positively indecent. And anyway, you're rather cute, with your dark, curly hair and runner's legs. I want to have you, so that's an end of the matter. Don't worry; it may hurt a bit, but you'll enjoy it!"

In the event he was to use other words, but Rory was always a good improviser.

There would be a struggle, of course; there always was, but Rory was bigger and stronger than Fergus. He would have his way, as normally happened. There would be no match. The choice was simple: basically, if Fergus did not accept to be seduced, he would be raped. Afterwards there would be insults, tears and recriminations, to all of which Rory was accustomed. He was skilled at defusing these situations. With any luck Fergus, once he calmed down, would accept Rory's further attentions and a randy next few days or even weeks would follow, as Fergus lost more and more of his inhibitions and responded more eagerly to Rory. Meanwhile Fergus would be his prisoner. None of this worried Rory, who was not a very conventional person; Fergus all too clearly was. He needed extensive re-education, and Rory was the man to do it!

"So, sweet dreams, Fergus. Enjoy, if that is the right word, the last hours of your blameless virginity. The pleasures that are about to come your way are fierce, but great: the pain when it first goes in; the white hot pleasure when I hit your prostate; the sensation of submission and fullness when I breach your second sphincter... because you will submit to me, completely. That is a given."

Rory smiled at the ceiling. Was Fergus really unaware how very desirable he was? It appeared that he was. Rory had read in his risqué French novel about how ageing roués and dandies of the French Second Empire had paid vast sums to the Madams of Parisian brothels to procure for them young virgins to deflower. There was no pleasure like it, apparently. At the time Rory, who had no interest in female virgins but felt sorry for the young victims, had found this extraordinary and rather horrific. Now, however, he started to understand. To awaken the innocent young Fergus; to open him up and fuck him; to drive him to frenzy and blow his mind, would be an exquisite pleasure; an exciting adventure, as well as being fun, of course. The moment could never be repeated; not with Fergus, at any rate. Virginity, once gone, was gone forever. The person's character changed thereafter. In Rory's experience they tended to grow up rather fast, which was good,and to lose any remaining inhibitions, which was better still. Either that, or they had a nervous breakdown, though he thought that Fergus was made of stronger stuff than that. In any event, it would be a pleasure and a privilege. His cock began to stiffen in anticipation.

Fergus was at an interesting stage, thought Rory. Like a timid diver, he was poised on the springboard of his boyhood before plunging head-first into the full life of a sensual, sexual man. He needed a push. He was now about sixty percent man but still forty percent boy; sensitive, polite and reserved, though not without humour. He had excellent manners but lacked the self-confidence that would come with maturity. Seeing him stripped, as Rory had now done on several occasions, you saw the slim, athletic build. Fergus was a runner; possibly cross-country. He was clearly a good swimmer. Maybe he was a gymnast? Rory could imagine Fergus gracefully vaulting a horse or exercising on the parallel bars; preferably naked, he thought. He was not heavy or muscular enough for rugby or boxing. He was slender, graceful and light on his feet. Fergus's body had rosy, flawless and translucent skin that looked smooth, healthy and very clean. He had no spots or scars. There was no noticeable body hair except at his groin, where dark, silky curls were sprouting. His head-hair was also dark, curly and silky. Could he have Southern French or Italian blood? Fergus's cock and balls were large, but not disproportionately so. His hands and feet were small for his height of just over five feet ten, and Rory found even these attractive. He intended to kiss and caress the feet; maybe press them against his own genitals. Rory wondered whether Fergus even needed to shave every day. Probably he did, he decided, but this would be a fairly recent development. Even if he did not yet acknowledge them, Fergus - a vigorous young man - had strong sexual urges; albeit suppressed until now. Of that Rory was in no doubt. He had watched Fergus masturbating when he thought that he was alone and seen the white jets of sperm that he had shot into the air. It had been a very impressive display: At least a gill of sperm! Rory thought. He must have some shadowy sexual fantasies that he indulged while wanking. Did they involve men, women or both? Rory would make him act them out and cause them to crystallise around himself. All things considered, Fergus had reacted quite well when Rory had made a pass at him earlier that day. A truly straight man would never have allowed things to reach the stage where Rory was actually sucking his cock!

"Although it is surprising what straight men will allow when they're drunk or when Rory charms them!" Rory chuckled quietly to himself. "He'll be mine soon. He is a really handsome chap and I don't think he even knows it. Nice, square jaw and good regular features. Dark, wavy hair; almost black; black eyebrows as well. Big, melancholy dark-blue eyes. Long eyelashes: I want to see tears trembling on them. Nice, albeit rare, smile. I must make him laugh more. He's an exciting mixture of the macho and the delicate. He has a delicate handsomeness that is more French than English. It's not effeminate at all; and what a stunning, graceful body, like a Greek athlete.

A grandfather clock struck 2am loudly. A noise upstairs caught Rory's attention. Unless Rory was very much mistaken, or a burglar had dropped in, Fergus was awake again and was now doing some midnight exploration on his own account. Rory smiled wickedly: this might provide exactly the pretext that he wanted...

Rory got up. He stretched and admired his naked form in a looking-glass. The moon was still riding high. Quietly, he pulled on a pair of socks to deaden his footsteps - bare feet on stone or polished wooden surfaces can make a pitter-patter sound - and donned a short Spanish leather jacket. It did not cover his ass, his cock or his balls, but it had plenty of pockets. Into two of these he now slipped a pair of handcuffs and a revolver. Now to give Master Fergus a fright...

Rory could move silently when he needed to: he was a practiced deer stalker; and a stalker of men too, if it came to that. He glided up the staircase to the floor above and then along the corridor, keeping as far as possible out of the moonlight, which was streaming in through many of the windows, which were unshuttered. It was an exceptionally fine night. Then he saw that a shaded light was on in one of the rooms: in his own study, to be precise. What was Fergus doing there?

The answer was obvious: Fergus had woken up; could not get back to sleep; and had gone to look for a book to read. Decorated with two globes (celestial and terrestrial), one or two busts of philosophers and a bronze of the naked Farnese Hercules, the study appeared to be a book-lined room, although in reality most of the "books" were leather-bound box files, containing estate papers, family documents and correspondence. It was part-muniment room, part-study and part-office. The real library was elsewhere in the house. Fergus might not have known exactly where it was, as it was in a part of the house that Rory had not shown him, but that was where he should have gone to find a novel. His intrusion into his host's sanctum was probably innocent and unintentional. But it gave Rory a perfect pretext for terrifying him. Fergus was looking in perplexity at one of the files, as though he were trying to recall the name of the author of "Feudal Superiorities," which was the title of the very boring file. Moreover he was experiencing difficulty in opening it. There was a trick to opening these particular box files.

Rory watched Fergus from the open doorway. Fergus was naked apart from a pair of very small blue bikini briefs, which he had slipped on before going to explore. Rory, who had not seen this type of fashionable underwear before, found them very erotic.

They hardly provide protection for his cock and balls, thought Rory. I can see his dark pubic curls above the elastic.

Rory quietly drew out his revolver and shouted "What the hell are you doing in my private study!!?"

Poor Fergus jumped. He gasped and turned pale when he saw a revolver pointing at him.

"Rory, please! It's me, Fergus: I'm not a burglar! I couldn't sleep! I was just looking for a book!"

"Well, this isn't the library. And while I am not a stickler for etiquette, I don't think that it is very becoming behaviour to spy in your host's private office! You're lucky I didn't shoot you. I thought that it had to be a burglar. It never crossed my mind that you'd do this: never in a million years!"

"I'm awfully sorry," stammered Fergus."I really am. But I genuinely thought this was the library. I mean, look at all these books!"

"They aren't books. Press the metal stud on the spine and you'll see what they are." Fergus did as he was told. The box came open; inside were numerous legal papers. "As you can see, they are private family papers. Not for general perusal" said Rory pretending to be angry. "I'm going to have to decide what to do with you," said Rory, with the air of Judge Jefferies considering a potential malefactor. "Your explanation could be innocent and truthful. But again, it might not be. I have enemies and someone could have put you up to this. If so, I'd take a serious view of it..."

"I'm really sorry, "gasped Fergus. "I can see that I've offended you. I never meant to. I'll dress and go home immediately. Let me go to my room."

Fergus was finding that revolver very disconcerting. He was also fast coming to the conclusion that Rory was criminally insane or a psychopath, or something else out of the ordinary; in any case very dangerous. He was also very big and strong.

Rory continued to look angry but was in reality very amused. He settled himself in a large, ornate chair and enjoyed Fergus's discomfort. The chair looked worthy of a judge or a lord, although neither would normally sit in judgement clad only in a short leather jacket, with his cock and balls prominently displayed. Rory's cock, which curved upwards, was now fully erect.

"Fergus, you will do none of those things. What you will do is to take off those briefs. I want you fully naked. You will then turn to face the wall and put your hands up on the wall. Do it NOW!"

Fergus looked as if he might be about to argue, but Rory scowled at him, gestured with his revolver, and Fergus did as he was told. He was shaking like a leaf. From time to time he would turn his head to look at Rory.

"I said, face the fucking wall!" Rory would shout when he did this. A moment or two later he said, in a quieter voice, "Hands lower. Stick out your ass. Now put your hands on your ass-cheeks. Pull them apart. But face the wall!"

Fergus obeyed.