Comersby Castle

This chapter is an immediate continuation of chapter 5.

The well-fucked satyrs bowed and slipped respectfully out of the room, leaving Billy and Sir James to recover from the energetic bout of mansex.  They sat on the ottoman, leaning up against each other and breathing in each other’s sweat and stink.

“Those bitches certainly know how to take a big dick,” said Billy, appreciatively.

“Yes, but …” James eyed Billy.

“But what?”

James reached across and grabbed Billy’s dick. “They were just the appetizer. I want a real man’s dick in me, and hard!”

“And I want a real man’s ass!” Billy confessed. The satyrs had been fun, but this was the real thing. The boys kept their bodies smooth, and he was in need of a sweaty, furry ass with all the odors of a hard sexual workout clinging to it. Billy slipped his hand beneath James’ buttocks and pushed a finger, then another, into his hole. As he found the nut of James’ prostate he worked his man’s passage to make him shout with pleasure.

Billy’s cock was instantly twitching, ready to please his lover. He pulled James to his feet, bent him back down over the ottoman, and lined up his ass. Pungent smells of sweat and cum from their strenuous fucking of the satyrs wafted over him. He spread open the hairy ass and breathed its ripeness as the puckered hole summoned him in.

The lure of  James’ ass could swell Billy’s cock after a hundred other fucks and he was soon rock hard. He pressed the head, slick with anticipation, against the Earl’s yielding hole. James felt the familiar hardness and pushed back onto the stiff pole.

James let out a great sigh of happiness as the cock he loved drove into him. “Yessss ….!” he shouted, “Show me how a real god fucks!”

Billy rose to the challenge, quickly getting into his stride as he plowed the delicious ass with long, hard strokes.  This was better than the boys, however skillful they had been. James’ ass was big and muscular, and the dark cleft that swallowed up Billy’s cock meant so much more to him than the satyrs’ slutty availability.

He reached round to feel James’ cock bouncing wildly beneath him and James’ heavy nuts brushing his hand as they swung. He hunched his body over his lover’s as he possessed him completely, hammering into him as James’ arms shuddered and he lost his grip on the ottoman and sank down onto the floor. Billy rolled them both onto their sides to free James’ cock. He wanted them to have the same pleasure at the same time. He pulled up James’ thigh to give him access and fisted James’ cock in time to his own thrusts.

Their voices interrupted each other:

“Come for me, James!”

“Seed me, Billy! Come in my arse!”

And as James’ cum exploded over his stomach, he felt Billy’s manhood flooding into the center of him. And he felt his whole being shudder as he shot his own load at the same time

James rolled round to lie on Billy’s shoulder.  He could feel Billy’s chest rising and falling.  Billy’s other arm reached round and stirred the cummy, furry mess on James’ stomach. He gave his opinion of the evening: “Who needs all that masquerade shit, when I can just take your arse as usual?”

James just smiled. He knew Billy had enjoyed fucking the satyrs every which way before coming home to his own mancunt. He was learning how to manage the appetites of his stableboy.

“Get dressed, Billy. Don’t forget why we’re here.”  James said. Billy bridled and sprung to attention. He scowled at the suggestion that he had forgotten their mission. Quickly he pulled on his clothes as best he could, and they returned to the ballroom.  Luckily their state of undress was far from out of place at the masquerade. While they had been enjoying the satyrs, the masqueraders had lost a fair amount of clothes and the corners of the room were filled with groping couples.

Bob and Jack had resumed their station beside a now almost comatose Sir John. The wine had clearly gotten the better of him. The satyrs winked lasciviously at Billy and James as they returned.

Patrick came over to them: “Where have you two been? No, don’t tell me, I can smell it on you. And it smells good.” He grinned conspiratorially at them, but was then serious again: “Addington’s here. He has a few boys the right age with him, but I’m not sure they fit the description of the lad you’re looking for.”

The three of them walked across the ballroom to where Sir Henry Addington, Lord Sidmouth, lounged on an ornate chaise, surrounded by sycophants who were in the hope of gaining political advantage. It was hard to see him through the crowd.

Billy drew Tommy’s sketch of Joseph from his pocket and edged nearer. None of Addington’s retinue looked much like Joey.  Tommy was clearly a skilled artist and the sketch of the young man had a distinctive look.  Addington’s many young male attendants didn’t seem to match up.  His arm was occupied by a stunningly beautiful but highly made-up young woman with a mound of flowing red hair piled on her head.

“Not his wife, of course,” Patrick informed Billy. “Let’s get closer and have a proper look at the footmen. He’ll talk to me.” Patrick was an old political rival of Henry Addington.

Addington greeted them formally. He seemed already bored with the occasion. “May I present my companion for the evening.”  His polite smile was that of a crocodile. He crudely slapped the red-head’s ass and she tottered forward.

James bent to kiss her hand, and as he stood up he saw a blank look in her eyes and smelt a strange spice-laden sweetness from her lips. Laudanum.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Madam.” said James. The lady laughed vacantly, and Addington drew her away.

“I’m afraid we must be leaving, my dear,” he said coldly, “I have other uses for you.” He clicked his fingers and his servants grouped round him to escort him to his carriage.

James felt deflated. He had gotten his hopes up that they would find a clue to Joseph’s whereabouts. The fun with the satyrs had put him in a good mood, but now he felt drained and tired.

Patrick noticed and suggested that they return to his house. “We can regroup tomorrow and pay Addington a visit,” he suggested.  Neither James nor Billy were in the mood to disagree. Billy felt sorry for the woman Addington was keeping drugged and compliant, but he knew that his mission was to find Joseph.

As they crossed the courtyard to Patrick’s carriage they saw Addington and his companion a couple yards ahead. She was struggling to walk in her pointed shoes on the cobbles. As they drew nearer, the lady stumbled and fell.

“Get up, you bitch!” Sir Henry pulled her arm in irritation and tried to drag her to the carriage, but her feet gave way again. As she fell, the luxurious mound of auburn locks slipped back to reveal short, blond curly hair. Sir Henry cursed and grabbed at her, but as she struggled to stand his hand tore open her dress to reveal a white scar stretching across her collar bone.

“Joseph!” Billy shouted it first. He remembered everything Tommy had told them about Joey. The figure on the ground stared up at him, with life springing into his eyes for the first time as Sir Henry bundled him into the coach and turned to face Patrick. Billy was not a Royal Marine for nothing. At the precise moment when Addington’s eyes were turned, he thrust something into Joseph’s hand and spoke quietly: “Don’t worry, lad, we’ll come for you.”

Behind him, James was shaking with fury. He hated cruelty, and could not allow the situation to continue. He felt something give way in him. “You shame your family name, Sir Henry!”

Sir Henry laughed superciliously. “What, for a pathetic faggot like that? You jest, sir.”

James thought back to Tommy and the faith the young man had placed in him. “You call yourself a man? You abuse all men, and a friend of mine in particular. I challenge you, Sir Henry. I demand satisfaction.”

Addington’s smile turned into a sneer. He had been challenged to a duel before and the last time the man had died. He had used his political status to cover it up, of course.

“Certainly, if you wish it.” Addington said coldly. “I assume Sir Patrick here will be your second, or perhaps,” he continued with an unpleasant smirk, “his dear friend, the Jew.”

Now it was Patrick’s turn to stride forward with his fist raised. He hated prejudice as much as he loved Malachi. But as he neared Addington, a voice rang out across the courtyard.

“GENTLEMEN!”

Everyone whipped round to look at Billy. He stood in the midst of them, arms folded, his presence radiating command. “Enough of this! If there’s going to be fighting, then it should be done by someone who knows what they’re about.”

Sir Henry Addington stared at him. He was not accustomed to being addressed like this. Then he remembered what he had heard about Billy, and turned his attention dismissively to James.

“Ah yes, Sir James. This is the stable-boy we all hear you’ve taken pity on.  Really, I wonder that you should bring him to a society ball.”

Billy immediately laid a hand on James’s shoulder and stepped in front of him.

“I don’t expect you to fight me, you Lordship.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “Name whoever you like. I’ll fight you or your lowest laborer. Whatever you chose, it’s all one to me.”

A smile ghosted across Addington’s face. He enjoyed brutal violence, as long as he was not himself subject to it of course. “Very well”, he said with cold politeness. “I shall expect you tomorrow morning.”

There was nothing more to be said.  Patrick, calmer now, ushered James and Billy into his carriage. On the ride back, Billy was in charge. The two lords might know how polite society operated, but this was his element and his logistical mind was at work.

“Don’t worry, your Lordships. I think we’ll reunite our young lovers.” He chatted lightly to relieve the tension. “Tommy did well to help us find his Joey!  Who knew he was such a talented artist? He played his part, and now I’ll play mine.”

James was sick with worry but he tried not to let it show. “I know you will, Billy,’” He tried to make a joke of it: “I know I can count on my stableboy to rough things up a little.”

*****

The next day over breakfast at  Patrick’s house, James was tense with anxiety. Billy tried to reassure him: “I’m a trained fighter, James. I’m a marine—by sea and by land, remember? I can adapt to all kinds of combat. There’s been a lot of men wished they hadn’t tangled with Billy Cate!”

James relaxed a little. He had no doubt that Billy knew how to look after himself in combat, But he didn’t trust Addington, a man with little human feeling but a great deal of guile.

Billy took an optimistic stance. He insisted on taking two carriages to Addington’s house. “We’re grateful to you, Patrick,” he explained, “but we’ll need to get Joseph back to Tommy at Comersby as quick as we can.”

The journey to Addington’s house was a short one, and Billy sprang out of James’ carriage, ready for reconnaissance.  The courtyard had been set up as an arena, with an area roped off for the fight and a raised platform where Sir Henry Addington sat with his attendants. Joseph was seated beside him, no longer wearing his women’s clothes. Sir Henry had deliberately dressed him in his servants’ livery as if to claim ownership of him. He sat rigid on a chair, his wide, blue eyes looking out imploringly at Sir James.

Prowling round the arena was a giant of a man.  His nose had been broken too often to retain any shape, and small mean eyes glittered above it.  He was warming up arms the size of tree branches.

A rush of adrenaline surged through Billy. This was a challenge. He was a dead shot, and his work at close quarters with a cutlass had repelled the would-be boarders of many a ship in the Royal Navy. He knew he was more than a match in a duel with swords or pistols. A fist fight was different. He was used to the strict discipline aboard ship where fighting was discouraged.  But he’d been in a few strictly unofficial bouts when he’d need to.  Billy didn’t come from officer background and he knew how to handle himself.

James was less confident.  He was a subscriber to Egan’s Boxiana and had witnessed a number of bouts in London. He knew many of the prize fighters and he knew of the reputation of Gabe Pruitt. The world of prize fighting was none too scrupulous about its members, but this man was different. Pruitt was not a gentleman of the ring. He had resorted to moves like gouging and dropping too often and now eked out a living from unofficial matches organized by rich men who liked to watch brutality and to bet huge sums on it.

The man was a mountain. Billy was tall at 6 feet 2, but Pruitt had a good 4 inches on him. He was an ugly brute with a nose badly set from one too many breaks. His small eyes glittered evilly beneath thick brows.

A knot tightened in James’ stomach, but he made his voice calm. “You can take him, Billy. A brute like that doesn’t have your skill.”

Billy shrugged nonchalantly. He’d heard of this man in the inns of Bristol. He was pretty sure his own fighting skill were more than a match for him, but Pruitt’s gamesmanship was another matter.

Sir Henry Addington strolled over to them with an unpleasant smirk. “No need for all that dangerous play with swords and pistols, gentlemen.” He conspicuously addressed only James and Patrick, not Billy. “I thought Pruitt here would entertain us more and it would be more appropriate for the status of your … friend.” He glanced across at Billy with a sarcastic sneer. “I do prefer humiliation to death. Though as I’m sure you know, Pruitt has in fact killed many opponents.” He rubbed his hands together. “Two men of this caliber should give us good sport, and we don’t need to be too nice about the rules.”

 James’ voice was cold. “Very well, Sir Henry. Mr. Cate has accepted the terms.”

“Let’s get on with it then.” Addington returned to his dais as Billy pulled off his shirt and swung his arms and shoulders to warm his muscles. At the sight of Billy’s naked chest and toned muscles, something stirred in James’ breeches and he felt horribly conflicted between fear and desire.

Addington clapped his hands and pronounced, “Commence!”

The two men circled each other. It was obvious that Pruitt had the greater reach—his massive arms were like the sails of a windmill. But Billy was strong too and he was faster and lighter on his feet; he could wait while the ugly giant expended energy on swings that connected only with the air. Where Pruitt had the advantage of reach, Billy was left-handed and he knew how to use the advantage of angles. Billy’s speed let him land some hooks onto Pruitt’s diaphragm that would have winded many men, but the monstrous Pruitt seemed impervious. His moves were limited but his huge frame was a fortress.

Billy was working hard to duck away from the swing of Pruitt’s crosses and get in some jabs of his own. James and Patrick watched—it was hard to tell where the advantage law. Patrick squeezed James’ shoulder and said: “Billy knows what he’s doing.”

Billy did know. The short hard jabs were having an effect on Pruitt. Billy was having to work hard to dodge the massive arms and he had absorbed some bruising blows. But the giant was blowing harder. He wasn’t used to a fighter trained in real warfare.  Billy danced round him. Pruitt was struggling to place his own punches.

Addington’s steward called an end to Round One and the fighters retreated to their corners. James tried to remain professional as he wiped the sweat from Billy’s face. “Just keep on like that, Billy, you’ve got the measure of him.”

James locked eyes with Billy. He wanted to keep him focused on the bout. But Billy couldn’t resist looking over to where Joseph sat, pale as a ghost and gazing mournfully at them. God knows what miseries he’s been through, Billy thought. His mind flicked back to the ride back from Bristol when Tommy had told them about the time when he and Joseph had been violently separated by the press gang. Anger flowed through him. He was more than ready to restore justice

Round Two was called, and Billy’s blood was up. As he squared up to Pruitt he noticed a dirty bandage had been wrapped round the palm and knuckles of his right hand. He shrugged: if the man’s paw couldn’t cope with hitting Billy, then so much the better.

They circled each other again. This time Pruitt was more hesitant. Billy couldn’t work out why, but he took advantage with some forceful blows that met their mark. Pruitt had lost his rhythm. His massive bulk kept him on his feet, but he seemed oddly hesitant about placing his punches.

Billy sensed this and was lured into looking into Pruitt’s face when suddenly a massive blow caught him on the chest and a shocking pain shot though him. He barely had time to pivot when the fist came again, this time even harder to his left shoulder in two hard jabs that tore at tendon and muscle

Billy staggered at the pain but his mind was focused. Before he had enlisted he had witnessed plenty of street fights and he recognized brass knuckles when he felt them. His whole body was shuddering with the shock of metal against bone.

“Fucking, cheating bastard!” Billy shouted out his resentment at the situation. Everything—his anger at the cowardly attempt to fix the fight, his need to do what was right for Joseph and Tommy, his hatred of Addington and love for James—went into his next blow.

He weaved left and then right and put all his remaining energy into an uppercut to the chin with his right hand. It was a trick he’d learned in the Marines. You never knew how or when you might be incapacitated and he had trained himself to be ambidextrous.

It was not a pretty blow, but it was effective. Billy’s fist landed on Pruitt’s throat and knocked the breath out of it. Pruitt lurched forward, only to meet Billy’s fist driving up into his head and connecting with his skull. As he tottered, Billy’s foot connected with his knee and he went down, cursing loudly.

Addington’s steward started a count, but Billy reckoned Pruitt had forfeited any chance of gentlemanly play. As Pruitt struggled to rise, Billy’s eyes swept the spectators. He saw Joseph jump to his feet eagerly and heard James shout: “Finish him, Billy!”

Billy shrugged. Sometimes you had to do what needed to be done. He kicked Pruitt savagely in the head and watched his lights go out.

Then everything happened very fast. James and Patrick rushed over to him, and James threw Billy’s uninjured arm over his shoulder to make sure he could stand.

Addington sauntered over nonchalantly. “A dull match, I’m afraid,” he said. “Pruitt is too old. Of course, if your man here would care to fight for me, I’m sure we could both make a fair sum.”

James ignored the insult. He cared only about getting Billy home and they didn’t waste any time. James carefully set Billy (refusing his protestations) on the seat of the carriage and sat close to keep him upright.

“Jump in, Joseph!” James called, and the boy made a bee-line for the carriage. James shouted a quick call of thanks to Patrick, and then George Jones whipped up and they were on their way home to Comersby.

At first Joseph sat pressed in the corner of the coach, but James and Billy gently talked to him and told him that Tommy was waiting for him, fit and well at Comersby. It seemed too much for Joseph to take in. He kept shaking his head and muttering “no … no … it can’t be ….” His eyes were red, and Billy realized he must be exhausted. He moved across to the opposite seat and draw the boy into him.

“Try to sleep, lad. You’ll be home soon.” The warmth of Billy’s embrace and the rocking of the carriage soothed the boy and soon he was asleep.

As the carriage rolled into Comersby Castle, James looked out of the window to see Thomas standing alone in the courtyard.  A footman came to open the door and gestured towards Thomas.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, “ the lad spends all day waiting for you.  We hadn’t the heart to set him back to work.”

James grinned. “That’s all right.  We have something to change that.”  He climbed out himself and helped Joseph out of the carriage.

For a moment the two boys stood staring at each other in disbelief. Then they ran into each others’ arms, laughing, crying and kissing each other all at the same time. George Jones swung down from the driving seat, nodded at Sir James and guided the boys towards an open stable door. James remembered the first time Billy had taken him in that very stable.

Billy started to follow them, but James hesitated. “Shouldn’t we leave them to it?”

Billy overruled him. “I want to see them back together. I need to know they are all right”

James understood. For Billy nothing was right until two men could come together sexually. He and Billy took up a discreet position at the stable door.

Tommy and Joey were already a whirling mass of limbs as they tore off each other’s clothes. Joseph flung the hated livery of Sir Henry Addington as far from him as he could. 

 James at Billy glanced at each other with raised eyebrows at the sight of Tommy’s very respectable dick—a good eight inches and flanked with round, fat balls. They had rescued him as an abused and frightened boy at the brothel, but now it was clear who was the top in this relationship. Joey had lost his breeches and bent over a hay-bale to take his lover. Tommy entered him tenderly but eagerly and was soon driving deep thrusts of joy and need into Joey’s ass.

“Our boy has quite a cock on him! I didn’t expect that,” Billy remarked to James. The men smiled at each other as the boys tried valiantly to fuck and kiss at the same time. Joey craned his neck round to Tommy’s mouth and they toppled off the bale together, laughing but quickly joining cock and ass again for their reunion. They were soon back into their rhythm with Joey’s ass pushing back to get as much of Tommy’s dick as he could.

James kissed Billy. “This was your doing. You brought them back together.” He felt Billy’s arm grip his shoulders and rest a little more weight on him.

“I’m so proud of you. But now you need to come back to the house.”

At last Billy knew when he was beat. As they left the stable, George Jones stepped up to help, but James waved him away. He understood that from now on it was Billy and he together. He took Billy’s weight and helped him up each painful step to their bedroom. He undressed Billy as gently as he could (or that Billy would allow) and laid him on the bed that was now their place alone.

A maid brought in water and a sponge to bathe Billy’s wounds but James took them from her and shooed her out of the room. He soaked the sponge in the warm water and ran it gently over the cuts and bruises coloring Billy’s naked body. Billy smelt of dust and sweat and blood, and James had to make himself wash it off.

“How does that feel?”

“Fine, but don’t you think your tongue would do the job even better?”

James set down the basin. Billy was irresistible.

“Lie back, then. It’s time for me to appreciate you.” James was overwhelmed with love for Billy and desire for his body. He bent over to kiss him and carefully touched his lips to Billy’s bruised mouth. He felt Billy’s mouth lips twist into a grin and pulled up to hear him say: “It’s just a split lip, for God’s sake. There’s nothing wrong with my tongue.”

James silenced him with a deep, hard kiss and their tongues fought for dominance. James pulled up to say, “Less of your gab, stableboy. It’s time for me to give the orders. And if you ever put yourself in danger like that again …” His voice tailed off. They both knew that Billy would always put himself in danger to save another man.

Billy struggled to raise himself on his elbows, but James took charge. “Billy, you are in a house that’s been in my family for six generations. When the Earl of Comersby tells you to lay back, he expects you to do it, marine.”

Billy consented at last to be still and James took advantage of it. He ran his tongue down Billy’s torso, now so familiar to him. He paused to flick his tongue over each nipple, and felt them harden. He made a detour to kiss the biceps that had fought so hard that day, then pulled Billy’s arm up so that he could lick his pit and breathe in his smell, glad that Billy had refused to be washed. He swirled his tongue through the hair and felt the familiar headiness of the man-stink.

Then he traveled down past the line where Billy’s brown chest ended and the white skin began (Billy, to James’ great pleasure, had refused to give up his habit of stripping off his shirt when it was warm or when he had work to do.)  James paused for a moment, negotiating the bruising, to lick and admire  the flat, taught space above Billy’s cock. Then he got to the main event.

He took the cock, so heavy even at half-mast, in his mouth and teased the foreskin with his lips and teeth as his fingers squeezed the shaft. Then he drew it back to reveal the beauty of the pink head shining with the saliva that dripped from his mouth.  He loved this moment when Billy’s cock began to take on a life of its own. He weighed the heavy balls on his hand and ran his tongue up and down the thickening shaft.

As the endorphins flooded through his body Billy forgot his cuts and bruises and his damaged shoulder. He began to buck his hips up to fuck James’ mouth. James took advantage of the motion.

He sat astride Billy and bend down to his mouth for a long kiss. As their tongues engaged, James felt the tap of Billy’s engorged cock bumping up against his inner thighs.

“For fuck’s sake man,” Billy muttered, “Get on my cock before I blow a load right now!”

James sat up and back, reaching behind to pull his ass-cheeks apart and guide the cock to its destination. He felt the wetness of Billy’s leaking cock-head, and caught his breath for a moment as it forced him open. They locked eyes as the dick started on its way with a will of its own. Then, as his cunt-ring gave way easily, James welcomed the thick, pulsing shaft deep inside him. He lowered himself down the huge pole until he at last met with resistance.

“Try to keep still, man, remember you’re hurt,” he ordered Billy as he started to ride his stallion cock. But Billy’s hips were soon driving up unto him. James wanted it deep and he got it. He felt the heat of the dick in his ass and moaned at the pleasure of it.  He laid one hand on Billy's abdomen to feel the energy as the hard muscles flexed below the skin.

As James’ ass hit bottom, Billy took off the brake. He slammed up through  James’ unresisting mancunt, fixing his eyes on his man’s and holding him in his will. The ache in his shoulder sent shots of pain through him that only drove him on to piston up into James.

“Kiss me!” Billy ordered, and when James bent down to him he locked his arms round  James’ back and hammered up in sharp, violent thrusts as their mouths locked together. He clutched James to him and they were both driven on by the relentless friction of cock in ass. James rode him hard, needing the stallion cock deep inside him. They met each other with equal force—the rigid pole of the dick driving up and the muscular buttocks driving down to swallow it.

After the first burst of violent fucking, they wanted time to appreciate each other. James raised his ass a little and Billy took long, deep strokes into it that pleasured them both. James threw his head back and Billy watched his long lean torso and the taught contour of his jaw. He saw James’ cock begin to swell as it flopped on his stomach.  He pulled himself up to grab it, wincing with the pain.

James heard the breath whistle between James’ teeth and threw a pillow behind him to support his shoulder.

“I’m all right, James,” Billy said.  “I just need you now.  All of you.”  A circuit of energy seemed to flow from Billy's cock into James’ ass and pass back through James’ dick into Billy’s hand and then round again.  They felt they could fuck like this forever. But at last James felt a deep need to release himself into the body of the man he loved. The tension of the fight, his anger at Addington’s cruelty and his joy at the reunion of Tommy and Joey needed their final expression. His churning balls were ready to give up their seed and his cock exploded, shooting deep into the reaches of James’ ass.

James felt the long, deep shudder of Billy’s orgasm ripple through him.  He let Billy collapse back on the bed and caught the edge of the wave with his own hand on his dick.  The next swell was his own.  He bathed Billy’s prone body with his semen, splashing it everywhere on his chest and down lay beside him.

Billy, finally, was spent.  He lay quietly while James gently worked his arms around him and held him. The silk sheets of James’ bed or the rough straw of the stable made no difference.  They were both where they wanted to be.