Cock-Sucker Tales: 'Hellfire Club'

'Just lie there, sir, and let him drink his fill. You're so tense and serious all the time, that's not good for anyone, you need a bit of the old spunk-action, and my-oh-my he does it so nicely, does he not?' She watches his head gently bobbing sensually in my groin with an expression of maternal delight.

He was eager to please. I was now so eager to be pleasured. My toes curl uncontrollably. My complexion gradually suffusing with a blush like a stain. I grip the coverlets firmly, helplessly. I can feel sensations storming through me, radiating up from that point in my thighs he was devouring, aware of no other part of my being but my penis. I wanted it to last forever, I was afraid for it to end, yet I could sense my gonads tightening, my sperm-gland swelling with anticipation. Blood-thunder roars in my head, lightning pulses through my body.

Mrs Bridges moved around me, fussing with the pillows. 'He's good sir? He does it nice?'

'Oh... yes, yes, so good. But I didn't intend -- ugh! -- this to happen. I really didn't. This was not my... intention.'

'Tsk Tsk sir. He's a natural. You can tell. He wanted to do it. He loves to do it. Just as I did with your brother. Now, just cream his throat and you'll both feel better.'

My moan was heartfelt, as -- at her word, my ejaculation erupted and his face nuzzled further into my groin to receive it. His full throat working in jerking swallows.

Mrs Bridges claps her podgy hands in delight. 'Oh well-come sir, well-spunked sir.'

He merely gurgles a little as my sperm continued less explosively...

I've looked at life through my magnifying glass, documented and categorised it, but never saw the life going on all around me. The snarling and bickering, the sniping and scratching, the climbing and tripping, the fleshy needs and moist penetrations. Until I met it all head-on, and was sickened. Now it has all come to nothing. Taking him to the family tailors in Savile Row to have him properly outfitted for travel. Drawing on my inheritance until there is nought but a trifle left. Securing the final straps of the portmanteau, loading up the sandalwood trunk. Solemnly handing over the 'reins' of the house. Leaving England by stealth to escape the attentions of those who would claim him back. The three of us, the redoubtable Mrs Bridges, myself, and the beautiful youth travelling across Europe from city to city. Each day a pleasure of exotic strangeness. Each night a frenzy of entanglement. He expressing his gratitude in the only way suited to his body and natural inclinations, and which -- against my higher aspirations, I was discovering to be increasingly agreeable.

'Is is true, Mrs Bridges, I hardly dare ask?'

'Ask anything you please, sir, you have the right.' The two of us alone in the Venetian hotel.

'Is it true that you provided services of, an... intimate nature, to my brother?'

'Oh sir, I can tell you no lie. Me old mother told me. Men will use you, she said. That's what men do. You are part of their household, you are not in a position to refuse. You won't want to refuse, either. So sip the nectar and they'll not get you big in the belly, girl. And I followed her advice diligently. I attended your brother, just as my mother had attended to your father and grandfather before. He was always a proud young man of powerful lusts. If I had not catered to them, pray tell me, who would? If you'll excuse the crudity of my language, ever since I had the first fine down on my cunnie, and ever since my bubbies had swelled enough for a gentleman to rest his todger between, I have been pleasuring, and finding pleasure in serving your family in, intimate ways. As my mother had before me. I soon discovered that the more cock I sucked, the less housework I was expected to do, an arrangement that gratified me immensely. I made it my duty to ensure that no young man went in need, and no stiff cock went un-sucked sir. From the start -- sir, it was obvious that your attentions were directed more towards the pronounced bulge in the stable-boy's breaks, and that you were taking your needs there.'

She moved across the room to sit before me as I lowered my head. 'It is true that we cavorted, the stable-lad and I. That we took our sport with each other, slaked on each other's bodies, and oh, the taste of his cum was sweet to my lips. But he soon tired of our grubby adolescent fumblings. Later he moved away, I hear he married. While I found solace in more chaste pursuits. But pray, continue.'

I was barely listening to her, instead my fervered thoughts circle endlessly around the terrible event of earlier in the week. Entering the hotel suite after a solitary stroll along the Lido, I'd become aware of sound and movement. Through the half-open bedroom door I could see shapes in the mirror, framed by its coloured Murano-glass inserts. A two-headed mythical centaur? A complicated gymnastic configuration? No, three naked perspiration-glistening bodies. My beautiful youth, gently oscillating between two dark-haired Venetians. Gondoliers or kitchen-boys. They were barely moving, it was he down there fellating one, while simultaneously moving to facilitate the other buggering him. They had observed me as I entered, yet continue oblivious to my presence. Turning around, switching positions. My beautiful young man cracks open his jaws to their extremes, and at once his mouth is refilled with stiff cock, until it bulges, vibrates and settles. His heels kick at the bedhead as he is doubly-penetrated, beating a meaningless rat-tat on the wall. I hear it now. A vision indelibly burned onto my retina...

'You didn't need, or care for my ministrations, but your brother had insatiable needs. Indeed, he would not sleep of a night without his gob-job, and it was my delight to comply with the ritual. Them's were the happiest days of my life sir, crouching there with his firm young knob filling out my cheeks. It fair broke my poor heart when he was posted to the Colonial Office in the Punjab, and I was deprived of his sweet injection.'

I was thinking of the youth. And how I should have realised I could never hold so free and promiscuously prolific a lover. How could I in all conscience go to such lengths to extricate him from one form of bondage, only to impose upon him one of my own? What am I, philanthropist, or predator? If he were to stay with me, it must be for no other reason than his wish to do so. Otherwise he must be free. So I give him money, and let him go. Now I wonder where he is. Who he is with. Perhaps, in truth, he never really existed. Not in the way that I saw him. Instead he was the blank page on which I mirror-wrote my own needs. He was never the victim of male bestiality, as I'd imagined. He never needed rescuing. It was I who was imprisoned. I who needed rescuing.

A pause of long melancholy. 'Please sir, if you'll allow me?' Mrs Bridges reached up to carefully unfasten my fly-buttons. Reaching inside. For a moment I was minded to stop her, then relinquished control and allowed her to do as she willed. She extracted my flaccid penis and with poignant delicacy swallowed it, sucking with such sweetness until it swells to fill her mouth. I relax back in the chair, sigh and close my eyes. In my imagination it was the beautiful youth giving me suck. His tousled head down there giving my manhood such loving sanctuary. She closes her eyes. In her imagination it was my brother she fed upon. As it had been with her as a young girl, and he a strong virile and demanding master. She sucks with excited urgency as she feels me stirring.

Our strange union would continue for some time...'

--- 0 ---

The 'Great Detective' seemed cast into a mood of deepest melancholy following my reading of the document. Well into the night I was aware of him disconsolately pacing the room, his steps measuring and re-measuring its dimensions. Of all the problems which have been submitted to my friend for solution during the years of our intimacy, this -- with apparently the simplest of resolutions, was proving the most intractable. Life, it seems, is infinitely stranger than anything my years of humble but single-minded service could have prepared me for.

With the arrival of morning he bade us leave the hotel, settling up what we owed, and catching the 'Simplon Express d'Orient' from Santa Lucia back for England, leaving the quarry we had crossed Europe to track down, undisturbed in his blighted lair. It was an uncommonly spectacular journey through zones of wonderful scenery, but he seemed scarcely to notice, such was the depth of his preoccupation. A dense yellow fog was settling over London upon our return, an apt complement to the inclemency of his mood. Back in our comfortable residence above 221B he brought the affair to its curious termination by returning the retainer to the client, declining to pursue the case further.

We had been back several days before his mood lightened. Evil criminal masterminds could have been scheming plots against the Empire, and it seemed he cared nought. I detected the change only gradually. Sitting in his high-backed chair, he eventually extracted the gold case from his breast-pocket which he used for his 'special' snuff, snorting the white powder in swift full inhalations. Next he tucked his Stradivarius beneath his chin, and as the Bolivian narcotics began taking their liberating effect on his cerebellum, he played the bow, inducing touchingly poignant improvisations from the instrument.

As is our peculiar wont at such moments of therapeutic contemplation, I took my place crouching on the carpet before him, moving in between his casually splayed legs to unfasten his fly-buttons methodically one by one from top to bottom, delving gratefully within to extract his magnificent penis, bending in reverently to take its full, not-inconsiderable dimensions between my lips, and began sucking it to arousal. As I work on his familiar genitals his virtuosity never wavered, the haunting tone of his violin spiriting away the lubricious sound of my increasingly frenzied oral activity. Now the lamplighter is moving down Baker Street, igniting a series of trapped fireflies as he goes. The 'Great Detective' watches him pacing, his clear hard eyes dimming for less than a moment.

'We are all trapped fireflies' he declares at length. 'Doubly trapped, by our natures. And trapped by the cages that society constructs for us.