Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

Five days before Christmas Countess Magda held her annual Arts Dinner. Lord Reginald was usually bored with Magda's big country dinners, but he actually liked this annual event. He spent the year shopping and was quite helpful in counseling Magda on what performing artists to bring in.

They all had to be of noble birth, of course—or at least acceptable in the right society—but there was much time available in Reginald and Magda's circle for the young to perfect their choice of performance arts. The pattern of the dinner was that a soprano would entertain the gathered guests in the conservatory for sweets and savories before the first course of dinner. Before the second course, they would attend the staging of a scene from a classic play in the Great Hall. The third course was followed by an instrumental ensemble in the Red Salon. Between the fourth course and desert, all donned their wraps and went out to the forecourt for fireworks and jugglers.

Lord Reginald always enjoyed the fireworks of his fifth course, enjoyed, as the guests were leaving, as he fucked one of the flexible and enticing performers in his bed chamber.

This year, Reginald's celebrations started early.

During the period play in the Great Hall, Reginald's greedy, lustful eyes followed the young actor son of Sir Gerald around the stage. It was a Shakespearean sword scene, and the young actor was wearing a billowy white cotton shirt with flounces and opened almost to his navel along with very tight, hunter green dancer's tights, with a cup. Reginald felt his own sword throbbing.

As if knowing he was being scrutinized, the young Geoffrey allowed his eyes to go to Reginald's often and to bow his head and give slight smiles toward the host when he didn't have speaking lines of his own. Reginald had seen him in a theater in London in September and had insisted that Gerald's son be invited to perform here.

Magda was very democratic. The performers supped with the other guests. This, though, was why she insisted on performers of the right class. Reginald sat at the middle of one of the long tables. Directly across from him sat—by design—the young actor, Geoffrey. Geoffrey had long, thick eyelashes, which he fluttered at Reginald across the table.

Reginald fucked Geoffrey in a garden chair behind a banana tree in the conservatory while Mozart was being played in the Red Salon, with Edwin standing watch, the young man's hunter green tights draped over an arm and dangling the cup from a hand.

The young actor's tail bone was resting forward on the edge of the seat, and his legs were hanging over either side arm. He was holding the back of Reginald's head close to his chest as, crouched over him, Reginald savaged his nipples with his lips and teeth and pounded his ass with his cock. Sir Gerald's son was grunting and moaning. He'd known they would fuck, but he had no idea the older man had such a big and thick cock, and such power in his sword work.

When Reginald was finished with the young actor, he closed his fly, straightened his evening clothes, and came out from behind the banana tree. The actor remained slung in the chair, moaning quietly, legs still splayed—and he didn't reappear for the third course.

When Reginald emerged, he was somewhat surprised that Edwin wasn't standing there. The tights and cup were hanging from a nearby branch.

During the third course, Reginald picked out the young classical pianist who had played for the Soprano in the conservatory earlier. He'd also had this young man invited. Clarence Wright, a piano prodigy, didn't come from the proper class. But he was all the rage in the concert halls this season, and he was a sultry blond, with a mass of curls, and watery blue eyes, that, Reginald thought, needed to be flooded with cum.

Reginald caught the young man's eyes. And Clarence, in turn, lifted his fork to his mouth, gave Reginald a saucy look, and made love to the fork with his mouth.

When Reginald looked away, he saw Edwin, who was helping with the large crowd by working as a footman, mumble something to the head butler, Rufus, and slip from the room.

The next time Rufus was serving him, Reginald looked up and whispered, "Is something wrong with Edwin?"

Rufus looked sad and answered, in a mere whisper, "Edwin is passing, my lord. He has had an attack and has had to leave the room."

"Passing?"

"Yes, my lord."

Rufus moved on, but at his next approach, he made Rufus lean down again.

"I knew nothing of Edwin," he murmured. "How long does he have?"

"The doctor advises sometime before the new year, my lord."

Edwin arrived late at his master's bedchamber that night.

Reginald was already fucking Clarence. He was sitting on the foot of the bed, his purple dressing gown wide open. A naked Clarence was crouched on his lap, facing him, and fucking himself on Reginald's cock. Shortly after Edwin entered the room and took up his usual station, Reginald changed the position, pressing on Clarence's chest until the young pianist raised his legs to run up Reginald's chest on either side. He arched his slim torso out and down toward the target, where his golden curls covered and brushed the tops of Reginald's feet as Reginald grabbed the young man's hips and pulled him on and off his cock until long after the pianist had ejaculated and Edwin had cleaned off his chest and belly with a napkin.

"See the young man out, will you, Edwin. And then come back to me straight away."

"Yes, my lord."

Edwin guided Clarence to a side door, opening out onto the car park.

"Did he like me? Will he call for me again?" Clarence asked in a breathy voice.

"I think you did very well. If he wants you again, he will call for you."

"I had no idea he was so big."

When Edwin returned, Reginald was still sitting on the bed where Edwin had left him. He had been stroking his cock, but stopped with the valet returned. It was engorged again. Edwin leaned over him, removed the spent condom, and cleaned the area gently with a wetted cloth.

"Another condom, I think, Edwin."

"Certainly, my lord," Edwin said, moving toward the bureau and wondering where his master had another young piece of ass hiding and waiting for his cocking.

"And a pair of silk gloves, if you will."

"Yes, my lord."

When he had rolled the new condom on Reginald's cock and helped him put the gloves on, Edwin stepped back, ready to take up his usual position or to do anything else he was asked to do.

He gave a little, involuntary cough, and Reginald looked up, concern showing in his face.

"Now, if you will, take off your trousers and underdrawers and kneel on your knees on the carpet."

"My lord?" Edwin asked with surprise.

"Did you not understand the instruction, Edwin?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And lubricate yourself, please. But quickly."

Reginald fucked Edwin from behind like a dog, holding the valet's hips with his gloved hands. Edwin knelt on all fours on the carpet below the bed. He yowled to the ceiling and let out a big fart as Reginald first bottomed in him.

"Sorry, my lord."

But Reginald was laughing too large to hear him. Another thrust and another fart. Reginald laughed again, and then made a little game of bringing the gas out of the valet with the different pattern he gave his fucking.

Edwin came and collapsed on the carpet, embarrassed but exhilarated at the same time. As Clarence said, the cock was big. Not just big, the cocking was magnificent. Much better than Rufus was able to give him.

"Sorry, my lord," he moaned.

"Nothing of that," Reginald responded. "You've been a good and faithful servant. And it's Christmas. The time for giving. Please do your cleaning, and then you may retire for the night. And I hope you find rest. Take care of yourself."

"Yes, my lord," Edwin said as he quickly cleaned up the evidence of the evening's fuckings and withdrew. How strange, he thought, as he left. But, as the lord said, it is Christmas. And he was holding back. He didn't use the bed, and he gloved his hands.

The next night, as he was helping Lord Reginald prepare for the night, Edwin cleared his throat and said. "Lord Reginald . . ."

"It's another fucking you want, is it, son?" Reginald asked.

Edwin was taken aback. He'd only been going to ask if the lord and countess were going into London for New Year's Eve—just so he could start planning what clothes to make sure were ready for the visit.

"Uh . . ."

"Well, go fetch a condom and some lubricant—and the gloves."

This time both men stood, with Edwin bent over double, and clutching his ankles. When he came, Reginald didn't stop pumping him.

"Um, sir, I have come."

"Well, I haven't yet, Edwin. I want to come this time."

Edwin racked it up to Reginald not having anyone else to fuck that night. But still, he had not come inside Edwin the previous night. This was the first time, Edwin was sure, that Lord Reginald had ever come inside one of his servants.