The Duchess's Brother

Young Robert came to with a start. The pain and sense of tightness and fullness in his ass channel were excruciating. His breeches, hose, and boots were off; he could see them tossed in a bundle in the ferns by the rocks cascading down to the stream where his horse—and that of the duke—were nuzzling their noses into the gently rolling water.

He felt pain elsewhere too—at his temple, where he'd landed and blacked out when his horse threw him; at the side of his face, where the duke had backhanded him back into unconsciousness when he was coming to; in his shoulder, which he'd bruised in the fall; and in his arms, pinned uncomfortably under him on the rough-surfaced ground beneath the fern bed he'd landed in. All of his weight was on his arms, and his wrists were bound underneath him.

"Sire. Your grace!" he exclaimed in pain and shock, as he looked into the face of the Duke of Farnstead, his father's liege lord. The imposingly figured man was crouched over Robert, his body wedged between the young man's thighs, his hands holding Robert's now-bare legs out and up from his body, and his cock digging ever deeper into the center of the young squire.

"Shut up and take it, boy. I will have my pleasure."

"Oh, please, mercy. You are hurting me unto death."

"It's your own fault. Those saucy looks and golden ringlets. I swear, of all of your father's offspring and by-blows, you are the prettiest by far. I've wanted to put you to my sword for two days now. It is done now, the gates are breached—and, believe me, that was no easy storming—so take it."

"Sire! Ohhhhh. I've never!"

"What, you've never been put to the sword before?" This claim only made the duke laugh and push in deeper and begin to stroke slowly and deliberately in a rhythm that had Robert groaning and panting. "Not even by your father? I've heard of his ways. Must have been saving you. Don't be so tense and it will go better with you. Relax and open to me. You are undone now; you might as well enjoy it. I'm told I do it very, very well." And again that laugh.

Robert found that it did help when he relaxed his body. And, indeed, there was little he could do about this now. The duke was liege over his own family's land. By the right of the laws, he had access to the cunts of any of the women in his dukedom—and in this day and age dukes and kings tended to call upon the right liberally. Surely that held for the ass channel of any man in thrall to him as well, if it was the duke's pleasure.

"There, that's better, isn't it?"

And indeed it was. Robert started to moan now and his hips began involuntarily to roll with the rhythm of the taking. It mortified him that he was becoming increasingly willing to accommodate the duke. The more his channel opened to the duke's cocking, the more his own pleasure and arousal stole in to mix with the shock and pain and sense of violation. He couldn't call it violation, of course. The duke had his rights. And the duke wasn't old and fat. He was young and virile and in prime condition. And his cock had a way of making Robert's channel walls grab and release and shudder—something Robert had no idea they could do.

The duke's bulb had found Robert's prostate and was sending waves of electricity through his body. He moaned and trembled and murmured his wonder, which heighted the duke's arousal. The duke laughed lustily again and, with one hand, tore open the front of Robert's doublet, exposing pert little nipples to his lips and teeth. Robert groaned in reply and began moving his hips more vigorously against the thrustings of the ducal rapier.

"Why, you little vixen," the duke muttered. "You can't get enough of it now, can you?"

"Oh, sire," Robert whimpered. "Oh, my liege."

"This staff I have between your legs is your liege," the duke crowed. "And you are its mistress."

"Oh, ohhh, ohhh," Robert cried as he tensed, arched his back, and let loose his seed.

"This is the only thing you can do before me," the duke said wickedly, "In all else except coming for me, you must walk behind." He laughed at his own joke and then continued, taking Robert's jaw roughly in his hand and bringing the young man's face close to his own. "Like this. I want to see your expression when I paint your insides with royal seed." Then at belabored, exhausting length. "Yes, yes . . . ugh . . . very pretty. Very pretty indeed."

"Here, cinch up that doublet better. Not all of the buttons are broken," the duke said after he was finished, had risen and adjusted his breeches, and had freed the lashes of the riding whip he'd used to tie the young man's wrists. "All can be explained by your unfortunate fall. But do walk around a bit and lose that bow-legged stumble—or the rest of the hunting party will gossip when they've come upon us. Which should be soon. I told my lieutenant to hold them back on one excuse or another for a good half hour—and you have such a sweet ass, I almost overlived my time. But you rejuvenate me. I should have made the command an hour. I could have well done with a second—and you could have used that for your education, as well."

"Oh, sire."

"And don't snivel. You were sure to lose your virginity sooner rather than later with those eye lashes and willowy figure of yours. You told me true? I am the first dip of the wick?"

"Yes, my lord," Robert said in a soft, subdued voice. He couldn't look at the duke now. At some point in the taking, it had overwhelmed him and had become near paradise to him. But before and after . . .

"Well, you are honored then. The sword of a duke was first. You'll get no better unless you manage to make your way to the king's bed."

"Yes, my lord," Robert whispered with a near whimper. They both turned their heads at the sound of hoofbeats.

"Ah, the rest of the hunting party. Your father will be beside himself that we have become lost from the main hunt. Retrieve the horses and stand beyond them. You still have a wildness about your eyes. Do something about that while I tell them of your unfortunate tumble off your horse."

"Yes, sire."

That evening, Lord Charles, Robert's father, stood at the lord's table, raised his goblet, and hushed those gathered. Robert was sitting almost in the shadows at the end of a side table. The lord's table was taken up with the duke and the principals of his retinue, Robert's parents and three sisters, and his elder brother—the heir to the family holdings and minor title.

"This is a momentous occasion," Lord Charles spoke loudly, slurring his words a bit, not quite in control of his wine flagon. "The great Duke of Farnstead not only honors this humble house with his presence, but he also has honored us for all time by asking for the hand of our precious daughter, Caroline, to become his duchess."

There were cheers all around, while the duke and Caroline stood and the duke leaned over Caroline's hand and gave it a noble peck. His lieutenant, a tall, well-muscled strapping young man, was standing behind him, looking intently into Caroline's face. Sensing the attention, Caroline lifted her gaze to his. And she blushed and gave a shy little smile.

"And extending the honor he does our estate," Lord Charles continued, "The duke has given permission for our entire family to join his at the Castle Hamstead."

There were oohs and ahhs all around, especially from those fretful parents who would be all the more comfortable to know that Lord Charles was off in Hamstead and their sons and daughters weren't.

Not long afterward, the duke leaned over to Lord Charles and told him that he was tired from the hunt and perhaps they could bring the festivities to a close so he could withdraw.

"And I have found that I have come some away from Hamstead with an insufficient number of squires to attend my chamber. Would it be possible for your young Robert to attend me?—and I may have need for him in the service in Hamstead as well after the wedding and when your family joins me there."

"But certainly, I would be honored," Lord Charles murmured. And although he had, indeed, had his own eyes of lust on his youngest son as the youth had grown into manhood, it was the greatest of honors for a son of his to be on bedchamber attendance to the duke. And it would solve the age-old problem of what an English nobleman could do with a second son as long as the first one was robust. This would be like money in the strongbox—his second son at someone else's table until and unless he was needed at home by some misfortune to the estate's heir—and no need for messy scheming when Lord Charles went on to his ultimate rest.

He looked up to catch the eye of his son, Robert, but the young man was nowhere to be seen. In fact, he could not be found anywhere on the estate that night or before the duke's party left for Hamstead.

* * * *

"Come to me, squire."

Robert moved a bit farther into the duke's bed chamber. He had been escorted straight here from the wedding banquet hall. And during the entire church ceremony and the wedding banquet, he had been flanked by two of the duke's sturdy house guardsmen.

The duke and his lieutenant, stripped of their formal doublets, were sitting in front of a draped window on either side of a small table. They were playing chess. They were both bare-chested and their physiques told of many hours of exercise for combat readiness. The younger lieutenant was somewhat broader of chest and narrower of waist than the duke was, but the duke was in his prime as well.

Robert's sister, Caroline, had departed the wedding banquet more than two hours previously to prepare for her nuptial night, which apparently was going to take place in the duchess's chamber adjacent through a sturdy wooden double door directly from the duke's bed chamber.

"That was unkind of you to avoid me that last night at your father's house," the duke said. Robert knew the man was addressing him, although both the duke and his lieutenant were bent attentively over the chessboard, and the duke was holding a pawn in his hand.

Robert felt very much like a pawn in the duke's hand at that moment. "I'm sorry, sire. I—"

Much to Robert's relief—at least momentarily—because Robert really had no idea what he could say beyond what he had said, the duke overrode his murmured apology.

"No matter in the end. The absence has served to whet my appetite. That was a pain yesterday, but at this moment it is quite beneficial to my mood. And here you are. Ready to begin your service to me in the bed chamber."

"Yes, my lord."

"As this is your first night in this service, I wish to see how well you do before you come in touch with me. Come over and undress my lieutenant."

"Sire?"

"The first lesson is not to question but just to do," the duke barked. The tone of his voice sent Robert stumbling forward. And while he did so, the lieutenant stood, and, with a wicked smile, took a wide stance with his legs.

Robert approached him, bent at the waist, and unclasped the lieutenant's hose and rolled them off his meaty legs, taking the slippers off his feet at the same time. Then he pulled the man's breeches off his legs, and the lieutenant stood there before him, as he was born, his prodigious manhood and balls hanging down between his thighs. He was still smiling as if he shared in a secret that Robert did not.

Which, as it happened, he did.

"Now kneel before him and use your mouth to make him ready for my duchess."

Robert's face snapped up to look at the duke in shock and confusion, but at the duke's barked "Do it!" the lieutenant's foot snaked around to the back of Robert's knee and jabbed at the tender tissue there, sending Robert crashing down to the floor. And, the soldier brutally grasping the back of his head by the hair, bringing him back up to his knees, and, ultimately, controlling him, Robert's lips were being breached by the lieutenant's engorging, monstrous staff. Robert gasped between moments of gagging as the lieutenant set his pelvis in motion, cruelly using Robert's mouth cavity for his growing pleasure, pushing to the back of his throat, hauling him from the floor by his long, golden ringlets, and shaking his body like he was rag doll. While this transpired, the duke continued speaking in soft tones.

"As you might suppose, I do not waste time and seed on women. They are only good for begetting sons, and I have none of the pretentions of most on having a son who looks like me. The lieutenant is going to serve that duty for your sister, the duchess. I trust she will enjoy it—although, as you can sense, he does like to be a little rough in his taking. I understand many women enjoy that—and many young men too. We'll see what you enjoy. And even if she doesn't enjoy him, I trust she is a smart enough lass to not care where the seed comes from that gives her sons as long as I acknowledge them as mine. As a squire of my bed chamber, you will learn that whatever secrets I have are your sworn secrets too. And if you can't hold them . . . well, my castle moat is wide and deep."

After a bit, while Robert learned the rhythm and touch that was expected of him in this act and the lieutenant settled down to more interest in rhythm and touch than brutality, silence reigned in the chamber except for the heavy breathing from the lieutenant, who was being brought to full arousal; the murmurings of the duke, who was enjoying the entertainment and anticipating what followed; and Robert's gasps, gurgles, and repressed gagging. The duke had his own cock out of his codpiece and, though it was not as long and thick as the lieutenant's, it was manly enough and showing great interest. Robert could see the strong upcurve of it that had given his prostate so much direct-bulb attention by the stream during the hunt.

"There, that is enough. Although he might need some more help ere he removes himself to the bridal chamber. Now, do the same for me. But be better at it and more willing for it than you were with my lieutenant. I will help; I like it slower and with more loving attention."

After Robert had undressed the duke and serviced him in the same way as he had the lieutenant—being expected now to make love to the cock rather than just serving as a vessel for it—the duke gave direction again.

"Now the preparation. Strip down yourself, Robert, and make a play of it. Then go and lie belly down at the foot of the bed. Jason, prepare him for me, if you please."

Without a word, after Robert had slowly disrobed, the lieutenant nudged him over the bed and pushed him down on his belly. Robert moaned, but he didn't struggle—how, under the circumstances could he have?—as the lieutenant stretched his arms out at either side and tied off his wrists to fastenings on the bed boards at the side. Robert was to find out that there were such fastenings all over the frame of the duke's bed.

Coming behind him, the lieutenant pulled Robert's legs out to either side and tied off his ankles to hooks on the bedposts at the end of the bed as he had done with Robert's wrists.

Then he knelt behind Robert, and the young squire felt fingers and a tongue at his channel opening and a fist grab and pull his cock through his thighs and to start milking him like he was a beast of the pasture.

Robert moaned and writhed under the attention and his eyes latched onto those of the duke, who stood beside the bed and watched and stroked his own cock. The duke was naked except for the signet ring of his nobility and the riding crop he was holding in his hand. Robert moaned and opened his mouth to speak when he saw the riding crop, but then, knowing it would do him more harm than good to object, he shut his mouth and continued to roll his hips in answer to what the lieutenant was doing in his ass with his tongue and to his cock and balls with his fist.

The duke gave him a slight look of disappointment, leaving little doubt that he would have enjoyed a little more resistance and begging for mercy.

"Enough. My bride awaits. Leave the door open. One wants to know if his wife is a screamer."

Robert watched the lieutenant move, naked, through the door, his manhood standing straight and tall and long and thick from his body. He heard the cry of shock and the scuffle and screams of distress and objection and violation from the other room immediately after the lieutenant had entered the duchess's chamber. His sister, Caroline, seemed to be under the misapprehension that the lieutenant was taking liberties and all she need do is call the guards outside her door. Although the guards undoubtedly would have preferred coming into the chamber to enjoy the entertainment, they didn't.

As it was, the duchess was putting up a struggle for her new husband's rights. She ran from her bed and made it to the open door between the chambers before the lieutenant caught up with her. Standing behind her, he held her there, his arm around her waist, her body half bent over, his massive, heaving chest looming over her back, her body still enshrouded in her billowing, white wedding nightgown, for both the duke and Robert to see the tableau of the two of them together as well as the shock in her eyes as she saw the duke bent over her brother's spread-eagled and bound back, both duke and squire naked.

The duke and Robert, suspending their own action, watched as the lieutenant bunched Caroline's gown above her waist and his free hand went under it and brutally grabbed and squeezed one of her breasts. And duke and squire watched as she screamed when his cock found her cunt and pushed to work its way into her. And then she was wrenched away from the doorway and back toward her bed.

The duke seemed to be enjoying this. He had begun flicking Robert's bare rump and his balls with the riding crop as a gurgling cry from the other room marked the instant his sister, Caroline, became a matron, and then Robert's own whimpers and yelps and silent screams took over his senses until after his own moment of piercing came—a somewhat anticlimactic one, for certain, as the duke had visited his channel before. Still, Robert cried out and arched his back and strained at his bounds as the duke thrust inside him. The pain of abrupt stretching and plunging overtook the stinging of Robert's red-raw buttocks gradually until, at last, Robert was able to handle and tolerate—and then, embarrassingly enough, enjoy and, finally, want—beg for—the stroking inside him.

As he got his own emotions into check, Robert became aware that the sounds from the other bedchamber had changed too. His sister, Caroline, always a quick study and obviously having figured out the lay of the land—and, she'd have to admit, getting a very able man out of the deal—indeed was vocal in the fuck and now clearly couldn't get enough of the lieutenant's master cocking.

The duke had won. This arrangement was going to work for him.

The duke leaned over and whispered in Robert's ear, "I foresee a long and enjoyable life of service for you, my pretty one. If my duchess will let him out of her bed, I'll give you a taste of the lieutenant's cocking on the morrow. I like to watch almost as much as I like to fuck—and as you have seen, the lieutenant can ream you a wider channel."

"Yes, sire," Robert murmured with a sigh of resignation—and, increasingly, of want.