All communication in parenthesis is done mentally.
*
Chapter 1
Silence echoed within the tight confines of the carriage as it quickly sped through the cool autumn night, the passengers inside each lost in their own thoughts. Neither paid attention to the foreboding trees outlining the trail at which they traveled, nor did they pay any heed to the eerie howls of a wolf pack near by. Lesser men would have ordered the driver to turn around but not the Devonshire brothers...they had a job to do.
They were the hired stallions of Madam Baden's House, a notorious house with the reputation of having the finest whores in London...the finest male whores. It catered to the part of society with a taste for forbidden pleasures. Their was nothing to taboo that could not be bought for the right price.
The Devonshire twins were the most sought after in their profession, each possessing the skills to lure any man to their knees. They had become so sought after that the Madam turned almost all other customers away but for an exclusive few and only if they could meet Madam Baden's requirements.
Money being the first and foremost to fill. For an acclaimed night with the Devonshire brothers, a single patron needed at least one hundred thousand pounds plus a few extra depending on what services were to be rendered. Then beyond that the Madam performed back round checks to discover if they were a worthy patron. She would not tolerate an abusive guest nor would she stomach a diseased patron touching her stock.
The men they were racing to meet had surpassed all of her qualifications. Each man was healthy, kind, and more than willing to meet her price....they had even paid her more than what was usually required if the rumors held true.
They were the Duke of Triste and his business partner, Lord Arden. Each was an extremely wealthy man, but whereas the Duke was from a very renowned family tree, Lord Arden had come to the dreary shores of London from America. He was one of the many Nouveau Reich that had made their fortune there and traveled here in search of a titled heiress.
At least...that was what the rumor mill could produce. Whether it be true or not remained to be seen. There was a great deal of mystery surrounding The Duke of Triste, and his associate. They were rarely seen out in society, each being rumored to be a bit eccentric and preferring to conduct what business to be had during the deepest hours of the night. Little could be said about them and when little was to report that was true the most leeway gossipers got to fabricate news.
(Such a stupid endeavor.) Revan Devonshire sighed to himself as he watch the endless parade of shadows fly by his window. He had no idea if the gossip mongers were right in their assumptions, but it most likely was in the world of the aristocracy. He'd had many a patron who had come to town looking for the exact same thing...he had once felt a great swell of pity for the poor bastards but as he encountered man after man with a like frame of mind his pity soon turned to disgust.
Revan had always found it stupid for a man to a women he didn't love in order to place himself among the aristocracy. There was imply no point in Revan's mind that made it relevant to let one's self suffer for the sake of a title...but in a Society of snobs they were everything, and that was the truly disturbing part. (I'm glad I don't have to worry over that shite.)
And he never would for he and his brother, Quil were common born. Descending from Ireland at the tender age of twelve, the brothers were forced to become thieves in order to survive. It wasn't until one fateful night at sixteen that they were propositioned by the Madam herself. They had been apprehended by the magistrate for a breaking and entering and would have been sentenced to the prison hulk if she had not intervened.
The Madam offered them a binding contract that would keep them in her employ until they had paid back the money she had paid the Magistrate for their release. What she had failed to mention was the fact that one of the conditions for their release was the free patronage of the Magistrate to the Madam's establishment. They were not only meant to pay off the amount of three hundred thousand pounds but the fees from every visit the Magistrate paid to her establishment from then on....which were many. And after twelve years the bastard hadn't stopped.
They had long since paid off the three hundred thousand but with the Magistrate still rutting in the Madam's establishment, they were still trying to pay off the rest.
How Revan wished that the old Bastard would just kick off already. At sixty-two, Magistrate Conroy, was still going strong and it wasn't the number of visits that were doing the brothers in but the number of men who serviced him a night and the sexual requests. He was becoming far more lewd and adventurous in his old age, requesting orgies and playing with bondage.
He had no finesse for such activities. He was to heavy handed with his games but continued to tread that fine line between pleasure pain and abuse. Revan had seen the effects of his handy work. Had even tended to most of the burns and cuts on his fellow workers...but the worst were the bruises. Nothing to big lest it draw the Madam's attention but painful and deep just the same. They tend to linger far longer than the others.
The only good thing that occurred after spending a night with the Magistrate was the fact that whomever came away with injuries was allowed time off in order to heal. A small blessing to be sure...unless the Magistrate was partial to you. He had several favorites among Revan's workmates.
The Madam had been forced to trade them out so that they could receive the care they required. The Magistrate was only allowed one favorite among as many others as he wanted. He was far to hash in his affections for their to be more and still be able to service him on each visit.
To date Magistrate Conroy was the only patron the Madam allowed such casualties....if she did not, her two most prized cash cows were surely to be taken away.
Suddenly the carriage came to a jarring halt, successfully breaking into Revan's thoughts. They had reached their destination.
Revan's breath caught as his eyes focused on their destination. Consisting of Victorian peaks and foreboding towers that stretched well into the darkness of the night, the mansion itself was far more massive than any he had ever seen. The main structure stood at four stories high and boasted at least forty rooms. Each was alight from within, glaring from the shadows at all who dared to approach.
"Wow." Quil murmured, his soft lavender eyes sparkling with interest.
"It doesn't matter." Revan stated, hardening himself to the splendor before him. He's seen it all before. Young rich lords showing off their money for no other reason than to make everyone else more aware of how insignificant they are. They lived only for their own pleasure and that was why the Devonshire brothers were called upon. "We have a job to do."
Exiting the carriage, they made their way through the gardens surrounding the mansion, the moonlight guiding their steps as they walked along the cobbled driveway leading to the front doors. The array of flowers were shrouded in shadows but they could make out heather and carnations and from the smells surrounding them he suspected that there was a fair amount of hyacinth as well. They were arranged in neat little rows and circles surrounding the two fountains on either side of them.
Each fountain depicted a scene of a couple embracing, their scantily clad bodies pressed together in a seductive pose. One had a full figured woman reaching behind her head to entwine her arms around her lover's neck while he had his face buried in the crease of hers. His right hand cradled the left side of her delicate face wile his left lay over the apex of her thighs, the thin material of her gown seemingly the only thing between his questing hand and her most secret place. The other was even more suggestive. It depicted a woman kneeling at a man's feet, her hungry lips caressing the barred perfection of his muscled stomach. His head was thrown back, his stone lips parted in an eternal gasp at the pleasure his partner provided. His strong hands were buried within the stone tresses of her hair, lovingly cradling her head yet grasping the tresses in an erotic grip. It was as if the garden had been created for lovers to revel in, indulging in their every desire and experiencing the heights of pleasure.
Revan had never seen one quite like it before...at least none as daring.
Upon reaching the doors, the calm reserve Revan surrounded himself with was breached and his heart began to race. He felt a subtle mixture of trepidation and anticipation of the night to come. It was almost comforting in a strange way....he wasn't as jaded as he thought he was.
He supposed the trepidation was because he had no idea of what was expected of him and his brother. The Madam had not informed them of what special services were required. In fact, her last departing words were, "Give them whatever they ask."
It was an extremely vague thing to say. There was no telling what was expected of their performance and Revan had no idea what the Duke and his friend would demand of them. The only thing that made him feel even slightly relieved about the situation was the knowledge that the Madam would not have entrusted he and his brother to the Duke if he were a cruel man.
The anticipation was for the night itself. He, despite selling his body on a regular basis, liked sex. The heady feeling of being able to touch someone, to be able to learn their bodies and bring pleasure to someone other than himself.
He also loved to be touched, for someone to care about his pleasure enough to learn his most secret places and sensitive areas. Lovers like that were sometimes few and far between, most men only hiring he and his brother to look after not their own pleasure but his. But when one happened along, Revan let himself enjoy them to the fullest extent.
And therein lay a problem. If he were to fully enjoy someone, an emotional attachment was a very high risk...a risk that could land him in a great deal of trouble. So rules were put into place as a way to govern his actions. The first and foremost being No Emotional Attachments. You treat the job as what it is...a job. And whatever you see, hear, feel, and do on that job you leave it there once you are done.
"You remember the rules, right?" He asked his twin softly as they stood before the carved mahogany doors to the Triste mansion. "What you see and do here, you leave here."
"I know." Quil retorted softly, an undertone of anger lacing his words as he reached out to use the brass knocker. Just as his slim fingers touched the lion's head the doors swung open to reveal an austere gentleman in servant's attire.
"Welcome Young Masters." He greeted the brothers softly, bowing deeply at the waist. He was an elderly gentlemen, mid to late seventies, with steel colored hair cropped close to his scalp and the body of a waif. As almost all elderly Revan had ever met, the man appeared to be slightly malnourished... Revan couldn't help but think that the butlers time was drawing to a close on this Earth.
