Noblesse Oblige
By Henry Hilliard With Pete Bruno
Book One Twilight of the Gods
Chapter 2
The next day the boys breakfasted early, Stephen's bed being untidied in the fiction that he had spent the night there. They cycled to the Women's Institute Hall and began their exercises, Stephen once again insisting that Martin wear no drawers.
Martin was trying the rowing machine while Stephen was using the chest expenders, Martin admiring his magnificent torso between strokes, when two boys entered the room. They were brothers, a little older than they were, and they tipped their caps to Martin, one of the pair saying, "Begging t'pardon your lordship, might we use t' equipment, sir? 'tis our 'alf-day and we uz practicing for t' boxing match at t'end Feb'rury- rep'sen'ting t'village like."
"Yes, of course. Go ahead and don't mind Mr Knight and me. I hope you do our village proud."
"Good morn'n, Stephen, said the other brother and Stephen turned to Martin who now lay back on his oars.
"Your lordship, may I present Douglas and Reuben Owens? They went to my school and their father is the chair bodger in the village."
"Of course, I know your father well," lied Martin, "and his chairs? (he looked at Stephen who nodded slightly)? and his chairs are very fine pieces of work indeed."
The brothers relaxed and smiled at this smooth compliment from the young lord and soon, as just boys together, they were helping each other with their exercises.
Martin was taking a good look at the brothers. They were meaty boys with arms like hams and legs like tree trunks although their faces were doughy and not particularly attractive. Martin had been helping Douglas spar when he had lost concentration; he was just beginning to think that Reuben had quite nice eyes-like a Jersey cow's-when a blow from a boxing glove sent him sprawling to the floor. The brothers were horror struck and full of apologies and, even though Martin made it clear that he was not hurt, they quickly dressed and left soon after.
As they stowed the equipment inside the smaller room, Stephen turned the key in the lock and pulled Martin to him. He kissed him roughly and Martin thrust his nose into Stephen's rank armpits.
"Good God Derby, I love the smell and the taste of you," Martin panted as he moved his face from Stephen's sweaty pit and kissed him. Stephen broke from the kiss and began to lick the sweat off of Martin's face, overcome with lust. Martin was busy trying to free Stephen's hard cock from his pants with urgent fingers as they kissed and Stephen was doing the same to him. Once he freed the leaking tool, Martin dropped to his knees and engulfed Stephen, noting with pride that he was getting better with each encounter, almost swallowing him into his throat without gagging. Stephen was moaning and panting as he whispered encouragement to his young lover. Running his finger through his golden hair, he guided Martin's head, setting a slow and steady pace. Martin struggled to pull back and release the cock, with Stephen protesting, but when he dived in to lick and suck the boy's balls he was rewarded by moans of appreciation.
"I'm going to spill, Mala," Stephen panted. Martin took him back into his mouth and received his gift. He stood and kissed Stephan and let him taste the remnants of the recent treat. When the kiss ended Stephen looked down and saw Martin stroking his own hard cock. In a trice he was down on his knees pushing Martin's hand away and taking him into his mouth. Martin was shocked; this was the first time Stephen had reciprocated. It excited him so that he spent his seed almost immediately.
When they stood Stephen noticed that Martin had a tear in his eye, "Come on, what's the matter?" he asked.
"Nothing Derbs, just happy," Martin replied, still fearful of uttering, 'I love you'.
As they dressed again, Martin noticed with a thrill that Stephen had ripped several buttons from his shirt. Stephen looked up as he was tucking himself in and said: "Those Owens boys were giving you a thorough examination, you know."
"No, you can't mean it?"
"Yes they were. Reuben couldn't take his eyes off your cock when you were rowing-you can clearly see it up your shorts- and Douglas was practically in tears when he hit you. I would have flattened him if he tried to kiss you though," he concluded, leaning over to kiss Martin.
"I bet you they'd like to join us for swimming after winter," said Stephen as they walked to their cycles.
"How do you know?"
"Well, you remember I said I let two boys suck me? Well?"
"No!" exclaimed Martin and was just about to dine upon this thought when Mr Destrombe, the vicar, greeted them. After pleasantries and compliments about the gymnasium were exchanged, Destrombe drew Martin aside for a private word. A few minutes later Martin returned and explained that he would have to do his duty and visit some of the sick and elderly on the estate in his father's absence. "Do you want to come with me? We could cycle."
"Yes, I'd love to," said Stephen and put his arm around the young lord's shoulder.
Stephen was a surprising asset to the afternoon's duty. Stephen knew nearly all the villagers and, as the local hero, was universally liked and respected- more than Martin himself it seemed. The elderly ladies loved him and seemed to become young again for an instant under his electric smile. There were several old men who were invalids in the infirmary in Pendleton, the second village on the estate. Here Stephen was the hero of the cricket team and he could talk about horses, dogs and crops when Martin was flagging.
They rode up onto the downs to visit a tiny, windswept cottage in the hamlet of Lesser Branksome. The bright-eyed old woman invited them in and made them tea. While she was at the range Stephen rubbed his hand on Martin's crotch. "Are you wearing combinations?" Martin nodded and a look of annoyance clouded Stephen's face.
They were riding back over the grassy downs, a faint, windswept glimpse of the grey sea being visible on the far horizon, when Stephen shouted, "Stop here!" The place was deserted and featureless, just grass upon which sheep would pasture in summer and a low stony tor that offered precious little relief from the never ending wind.
Stephen led them to the leeward side of the rock. "Get your clothes off! All of them!" Martin did as he was told although it was freezing. Stephen, still dressed, hugged him, giving off just enough warmth to stop Martin's teeth from chattering. S tephen flattened some of the wiry grass and spread Martin's discarded clothes on the ground, throwing the combinations to the wind.
He knelt next to a shivering Martin and extracted his large cock, which was on its way to being hard. He rubbed the slimy head over Martin's lips and when he opened mouth to try and suck it, Stephan cruelly pulled it back out of reach. "Promise me, no more combinations," he demanded, with just a suggestion of a smile.
"Yes, Derby, no more combinations," Martin said as his teeth began to chatter.
Stephan pushed his cock to Martin's lips and let him lick it, and then pulled back and lay on top of him and kissed him. "You're a good boy Martin," he said good-humouredly after kissing him, "now get dressed and we can finish this at home in front of the fire."
Stephen woke early in the gigantic bed, the sky still dark and wintery outside. Martin lay next to him, his golden hair untidy on the pillow. Stephen slid his muscular arm beneath his sleeping friend and gently pulled him across his own body, Martin's face resting contentedly in the small patch hair on Stephen's chest. He continued to hold him thus and drifted off to sleep once more until he heard a soft knock at the door. Realising it was Daisy with their early morning tea, Stephen leapt out of bed and, in almost one swift movement, pulled on a dressing gown and opened the door himself.
"Thank you, Daisy. I think his lordship may still be asleep so we won't wake him," he said, taking the tray at the door.
"Very good sir," whispered the blushing girl. "Ring when you want your hot water."
Stephen closed the door and wondered how much Daisy had seen. He was fully erect under the silk dressing gown, which he had pulled on inside out in his haste. He looked into the long pier glass that hung between two windows. His hair was an untidy mess and he pushed it back from his forehead. He inspected his face; yes he must shave this morning. Turning to look at Martin he realised that it would be some years before those pretty cheeks would be troubled much by whiskers. He slid down his dressing gown, letting the silk slide sensually over the aching head of his cock. He smirked as he admired its size and hardness. He ran his palms over his chest and biceps and admitted that the weight exercises were paying dividends. He continued to admire himself in the glass, pinching his nipples and rubbing his belly. A couple of dozen strokes with his left hand brought him to orgasm and he spilled over the looking glass, a small rivulet of white lava making its way down to the ormolu frame, which Stephen thought would be difficult to clean, especially as he was going to make Martin lick it all off when he awoke.
The day passed pleasantly. They went out riding in the morning, Stephen borrowing a hack. He rode strongly but without the polish of Martin who sat upon his favourite mare. They combined their ride with a visit to two or three villagers from the vicar's list. As they left the second cottage, Stephen ventured to say that the kitchen was damp and the there was no stove, only a fireplace in which hung an iron pot for all the cooking. Martin looked annoyed for a moment, but then conceded, "Yes, you're right. That cottage is a disgrace. I'll speak to Blake about it this afternoon." Stephen felt for a moment that he had overstepped the mark but was relieved a short time later when Martin drew him in for a kiss when the stable boy had left for the harness room. That afternoon Martin was shut up with Blake for an hour or so discussing estate business. Stephen read Heart of Darkness by the fire in their room and later went for a walk about the house.
At one point there was a knock at the door and Paul the footman asked if Mr Knight could join his lordship and Mr Blake in the estate office. Stephen put the book aside and asked Paul to direct him to this office through the labyrinth of rooms and passageways.
Blake greeted him; calling him 'Mr Stephen' and Martin directed his attention to a set of plans spread out on a table. "Stephen, the workmen will be digging a drainage ditch along here to drain the west field on the Home Farm next week. That whole corner has been an unusable fen in wet weather." Stephen nodded. "The question is, should we, for an extra ?200, continue the drain right along here to meet up with this existing drain?"
Stephen looked at the plan. He knew this area well as it was not far from his father's cottage. "That would make a lot more useful land; it might even be able to be cropped if grain prices were to rise. But ?200 is a lot of money."
"The workmen will be here already," put in Martin.
"Yes, that's true. You know, I think this drain will actually be higher than this one. I don't think it will drain the land but flood it."
"Yes, Mr Stephen, that's exactly what I were thinking." said Blake.
"Could we run the drain at right angles this way, Mr. Blake? It wouldn't drain quite so much land but it wouldn't cost nearly so much and I think it's all downhill from memory."
Blake agreed with him, nodding his head slowly and promising to investigate this alternative tomorrow. Martin beamed with pride after Blake withdrew. "I wish I had half your brains!"
"And half my cock?" replied Stephen cheekily.
"No, all of it-right down my throat," said Martin, laughing at his own depravity.
"You'll never guess what I saw this afternoon, your lordship."
"What?" Martin asked.
"That footman."
"Paul?"
"No the other one, Michael, he was sucking on Boots in the stillroom."
"Boots!" he exclaimed trying to picture the scene between the footman and the seventeen year-old boot boy. "Did they see you?"
"Not Michael, he was too busy concentrating, but I think Boots did."
"Well, this house seems to be full of inverts. Can it be catching?" he chortled.
The next morning Stephen insisted that they get to the village hall early, but as they rested their cycles under the lych gate they noticed that they were not the first there. Inside they found the Owens brothers and Stephen explained that he had told the boys they were welcome to train when they were there. Reuben enquired after his lordship's eye and insisted on inspecting it closely for any signs of the trauma from the earlier occasion and criticised his brother roundly for being so careless.
Martin replied that he was not so soft as to be fatally injured by just one punch, although admitting that Douglas had a good right at which point Douglas flexed his right bicep, inviting the others to feel it, which they did.
"Aye, your lordship has a fine strong body for one so young," ventured Douglas and added that he could possibly make a champion boxer out of him yet as he ran his hand over his chest in the most approving of fashions. Noticing no resistance from Martin he invited his brother to feel the young lord's chest. The brothers began to run their hands over Martin's torso and then looked into his eyes. Martin just smiled and they moved their hands under his shirt to rub his skin and stroke his nipples. Stephan was watching, smiling and growing hard in his trousers. He caught the eye of Martin who just nodded to him; and he crossed the room and locked the door. The brothers moved their hands tentatively down to the front of Martin's short trousers and began to stroke his hardening cock and, when he offered no resistance, they freed it and began to suck it together until Stephan joined them, cock in hand. The brothers relieved the two boys swiftly as they pleasured themselves and spilled their seed in their own hands. The brothers thanked them, respectfully lifting their caps, and beat a quick retreat.
"It seems you were right Stephan," Martin said, "and I'm glad you were, they were very proficient."
That night as they dined and drank their beer Martin suddenly said, "I think we should go up to London for a few days. What do you think?"
Stephen put his beer down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "London! But what would I wear? I can't face your relatives and all those toffs! How will we pay for it?" Despite these expressions of doubt, Martin saw that his eyes were shining with excitement and he knew he had made the right suggestion.
He stood up and walked around behind Stephen who was still seated and began to knead his handsome shoulders as he spoke. "I've already spoken to Blake and Father has left ?50 for us to spend and that should be three times what we need and there's more if there isn't. We'll stay at Lowndes Square with my Aunt Maud; you'll like her and she'll be in love with you before teatime. I'll ask her not to have too many people to dinner, just her daughter who is about nineteen and her niece who is about eleven and I think and maybe a couple of other members of her family- although it is the height of the season-but she'll put off the fashionable throng if I ask her.
"Now as to clothes, you know I don't care what you wear."
"And you like me best when I don't wear any."
"Hush and let me think. I'll have Prims alter one of my old suits," he continued, naming the seamstress at Croome, "and when we're in London I want to buy you some clothes." He held up his hand to stifle Stephen's protests and rang the bell.
Chilvers appeared in the doorway and Martin explained the situation. Chilvers took command and had Stephen stand. He ran his hand over his shoulders and said that it might be difficult letting out one of Martin's coats. "Lord Holdenhurst might have just the ticket," he said, using a slang term that caused Martin and Stephen to exchange glances. Chilvers rang for a footman who fetched the suit in question. It was Michael, but he gave no sign that he'd been observed on his knees before the Boots.
William's coat was a good fit, but the twenty-five year-old's shoulders were still narrower than Stephen's but there was just enough material for it to be let out. Chilvers turned his attention to the trousers and Stephen looked in alarm at Martin who was puzzled for a second or two before he said: "Chilvers could you leave us for a moment and get Michael to fetch two suitcases?"
Chilvers glided away and Martin said, "You're not wearing any drawers are you?" Stephen shook his head, looking shame-faced and Martin roared with laughter. "Hurry, get into a pair of my combinations before he returns."
"Haven't you any silk ones?"
"Oh very well, look in the bottom drawer and put them on in the bathroom."
Chilvers returned just as Stephen strolled from the bathroom. The trousers were a good fit and Chilvers made no mention of the natty lemon-silk underwear or of Stephen's prominent bulge in them.
Chilvers seemed to enjoy finding kit for Stephen to take to London, including a hat belonging to William and a light stick belonging to the Marquess of Branksome. He handed this last over with a forlorn air that seemed to Stephen to suggest that the owner may never have use for it again in England.
When all was finished Stephen was stood in front of the now clean pier glass and admired like a department store dummy. Still, the effect was pleasing, thought Stephen, smiling.
When they were alone again Martin grabbed the hank of wavy black hair that tumbled over Stephen's left eye and smashed his face into his own. Stephen pulled back and flailed the stick at him until they both collapsed with laughter.
"What do you want to do in London, Derby?"
"Well, I want to ride on the Tube, see the Tower and go to Hatchard's," he said.
"We'll do all those things, but you have to do something for me?"
"What?" said Stephen genuinely puzzled.
"I want you to pleasure me with that clever mouth again. This time long and slow and swallow every drop of my seed."
"Too right. I don't want to ruin these clothes," he said as he stripped off his so recently acquired splendours and laid them neatly on the chair.
Martin stripped quickly too, excited to experience having his cocked sucked again. It had only happened twice before and both times much too quickly; he was always the one performing the act. He laid back on his bed and spread his legs holding his already hard cock straight up. Stephan moved between his legs and began to lick the thick cock like a sweetie before taking the head in his mouth. He worked slowly and deliberately, trying to give his lover as much pleasure as possible. Martin rewarded his efforts with a moan at Stephen's second attempt to take the entire member in his mouth. For twenty minutes he worked thusly; a true labour of love he thought. And then it hit him: he was in love; in love with another boy and his heart swelled. He re-doubled his efforts and was spurred on by Martin's heavy breathing and words of encouragement and finally a load of his noble seed. Stephan didn't wait to swallow it all, he couldn't wait; he had to kiss Martin. He moved his muscular body on top of Martin, crushing the remaining breath out of him and, looking down at his face, so beautiful at this moment, kissed him hard, letting Martin taste himself.
Then he pulled back and said, "I love you, Mala."
To be continued.