Young Lord Crossway considered it his sworn duty, as much as arbitrating the affairs of his people or collecting taxes. Some days he performed his duties in the silent dining hall. Sometimes it was the great bedchamber with only the torches in their sconces to witness.
Today he was where he was requested: on the floor of the kitchens, rubbing oil into his cock and crotch. Knuckles rasped at the door and the heavy wooden thing swung open. Lord Crossway ironed out his face so he was smiling.
“Lord Trimble,” he said, inclining his head in respect. He gripped the base of his cock tighter, forcing it to be erect and impressive. His other hand pushed off the floor as he tried to stand, but the caped Lord Trimble swept into the room and put a firm palm against Crossway’s shoulder.
“Stay down there. I have no need of an equal today.” He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at the deep lines in his haggard face. "Today you will serve me.“
Crossway gulped. "But m’lord.”
“Spare me your excuses,” Trimble scoffed. His stringy gray hair had escaped from beneath his wig and he looked like he had not slept for days. "Stand and prepare to receive me.“
Crossway winced as he stood, bent double. Trimble wrenched down his pants and made a noise. "Is this your excuse? This welt?”
“Yes, m’lord.” Crossway berated himself again for relenting to Lady Gibbons’ insistence that he go rolling down the grassy hills with her; the boulder had left a dent in his backside.
He screamed as Trimble slapped him hard across the wounded cheek. "Let that be a lesson: you will keep your body for me. I will not defile myself on lesser beings.“
"Y-y-yes, m-m’lord,” Crossway managed through the tears.
“Very good. Give me the oil.” There was a rustling of fine cloth as Trimble derobed. Crossway held the oil bottle behind him until he felt its weight disappear and felt the cool tip of Trimble’s cock nudging at his ass. He took a deep breath and spread his legs, making himself available for the older man.
Trimble probed him first with a finger, gently massaging towards the outside so he was ready for the lord’s massive cock. Still, when Trimble pushed in with a heavy sigh of relief, Crossway had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. But as the oil did its job and Trimble slid in deeper, the wave of relief and pleasure came and the pain was forgotten. Keeping his balance with his knuckles, he rocked back against Trimble, feeling the other’s soft hair dancing across his skin.
Suddenly Trimble flattened himself against Crossway’s back. His breath, hot with the smell of fish and fruit, brought words to the younger man’s ears: “I give no quarter to my enemies, boy, not even when they have fallen. Do not imagine that I expect less of you.”
His cock throbbed inside Crossway, coming hot and heavy.