Lord Hasting's Gay Sin Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Teaser

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HUNGRY FOR MORE?

  LORD HASTING’S GAY SIN

  Candy Banger

  This book may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the copyright holder. All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older.

  Copyright © 2017 Candy Banger. All rights reserved.

  Cover Image © Pugovica88, megapixl.com

  Logo Image © Photochatree, Bigstockphoto.com.

  TEASER

  ‘Now, normally, about this time, I’d be begging you to let me into your arse, my dear,’ he said, starting to pant, ‘but I can’t do that, the Lord has forbidden it.’ I felt a sudden desire to let him into me surge through my body.

  ‘Is that what men do?’ I asked. ‘They put their meat into each other’s arses?’

  ‘They most certainly do,’ he said, ‘and there is a place inside you that, if I were to rub the tip of my dick on it, would unlock a pleasure in you that you’ve never before known.’

  ‘The Lord wouldn’t have to know.’ I said, panting harder.

  ‘No, my lord, I have sworn an oath, and I will not break it. But,’ he smiled again, wickedly, ‘he did not say anything about me not fucking your mouth.’

  How disgusting! The thought came and went in a second. Suddenly, now that the thought was lodged in my mind, I almost found that my mouth had started to water at the thought of accepting him into me, and then, without stopping to think again, I bent down, and I started to engulf him in my hotness.

  ‘Woah, woah, the Lord tasked me with teaching you how to please a man, and I intend to fulfil my responsibility. You must go slow at first. You must kiss me first, you must tease me, you must nibble, lightly, and trace your tongue up and down before taking me into you.’ I did again as he asked, taking my time, savouring the newness of the experience, his taste, his aroma, the smooth texture of his manhood as I slide it in and out of my mouth. He started to groan as I did it, and I felt my cock pulse and throb. I wore nothing under my trouser and suddenly, able to bear it no longer, I moved a hand up to my hard organ and started to moan myself, my mouth vibrating against his girth.

  CHAPTER ONE

  It’s not easy to know throughout the course of your whole life, that you belong to someone. It’s not easy to know that on the day you come of age, your eighteenth birthday, a day which for most young boys is one of the happiest of your life, you will be sent off to be someone’s possession.

  My memory of meeting Lord Hastings for the first time is hazy. Sometimes, when I think about it, I wonder whether it really happened at all, or whether I dreamed the whole thing, in some fever, in some panicked state. But when I speak to my father about it, he assures me it happened, and that nothing I do can change what’s going to happen because of that day.

  ‘Anthony,’ he says every time, ‘as true as I’m a tailor, your destiny lies with Lord Hastings.’ All I remember of the meeting itself is the piercing gaze of the shadowy man who came to our humble house, and the unusually beautiful and well cut suit he wore. I was the son of a tailor, and ever since I was old enough to hold a needle, my father had taught me the craft. That’s why I could, even at the age of ten, understand just how rich Lord Hastings must have been. He looked me up and down and nodded.

  ‘Very good, Alfred,’ he said to my father, ‘he’s going to be very handsome. I look forward to bending him to my will. The price will be as discussed. And as I wrote to you, I will pay you half now, and half the first time he calls me master.’

  That evening, my father had explained exactly what he’d agreed to to me.

  ‘Anthony, every man needs a master. As you know, ever since your mother died, it’s been more and more difficult for me to provide for you. Margaret did things with a needle and thread that I’ll never be able to do. Not only that, but she was tireless when it came to looking after you. I spend all of my time on the business, and I know that I’ve not given you the attention that you deserve.’ I’ll never forget the way he looked at me then, with so much sadness and love. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. I knew what was coming next. ‘So, I’ve secured your future, and mine. You will be given to Lord Hastings when you turn eighteen. You will be taken from here and go to his castle, to live under his will. You will provide him with certain things no-one else will, and you will call him master.’

  ‘I will never call him master!’ I shouted. The tears came easy, and were hard to stop.

  Over the next few years, our lives changed immeasurably. Within a week we’d left our slum-like dwellings in Earl’s Court, and we’d moved to the much more desirable neighbourhood of Knightsbridge. My father took in servants and apprentices, and soon his business was up and running again. He took another wife, a young harlot who no doubt he’d met at one of the many brothels he could now afford to frequent. I’d never known him be so happy. My mood, however, couldn’t be more different. I’d had to begin attending an absolutely wretched finishing school, and my tailor’s training had immediately stopped. It felt as though, rather than being prepared to become a man, I was being groomed to become and obedient little servant.

  ‘No, no no! Anthony you must put some effort into the way you walk, you wretched boy!’ Mistress Maude was a frail old crone who would make me walk around the classroom with a heavy book on my head. It was just one of the awful exercises we had to do at the school.

  ‘I hear, Anthony,’ she said to me one day after a lesson, ‘that you are to be given to Lord Hastings.’ I nodded (children were meant to be seen and not heard at St. Brendans, after all). ‘My boy, you’re going to want to take extra care in our lessons. You’ll find that Lord Hastings is a much more ruthless disciplinarian than I am.’

  As I learnt on the day of my eighteenth birthday, she was not exaggerating.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I’d been dreading that day so much, I can’t even begin to tell you how much anxiety and worry I’d been experiencing. I’d tried to speak to my father about it for the weeks and months leading up to it, but he’d told me again and again that it wasn’t my place to question what had been agreed between gentlemen, and that he didn’t know anything about my future master’s plans for me. He told me that what happened between a man and his servant were no-one else’s business.

  Of course I knew about coupling. I knew about how men and wives made children, about how I’d been put into my mother’s belly. I’d also learnt about other, more unheard of practises; the sort of things that happened between men and other men. I must confess this type of practice was what had interested me as I’d grown, my masculine form often drawing lustful looks from men and boys I made my way to and from school every day. Puberty had been kind to me, it’s true. I’d developed early and fully, my cock growing heavy and long between my legs, and my muscular form making me strong and lean. I wondered often whether this is why Lord Hastings had chosen me. I remembered the way he looked at me that first time, the way he’d said I’d become handsome. If he did want to couple with me, it made me feel so angry that I’d be wasting my young charms on some wizened old country lord, when I could be bedding the dashing gentry of London.

  I’d heard other, dark rumours about the man I’d been betrothed to. I’d heard that he was very experienced, and that he spent more of his coin on male whores than any other noble in London. Apparently this was not because of the amount of whores he lay with, but because of the perverse demands he placed upon those poor men. I’d lain awake at night a number of times, trying desperately to imagine just what it could be he did to his young boys. My manservant, Adelbert, would share filthy gossip about him with me.

  ‘I ‘eard from his maid, Clara, that ‘is snake’s as long as that of an ‘orse!’ he’d say. We’d giggle together, but then, later, when I was alone, I’d think about what it might be that his ‘snake’ looked like, about its colour and shape. I’d imagine just how much of it he’d be able to fit in me, I’d wonder other things as well, about his hands and his torso, about implements he might use on me, about whether his pleasure would also be pleasurable for me.

  So on the morning of my eighteenth birthday, when Adelbert laid a parcel down on my bed and instructed me that it had come from Lord Hastings, and that he’d been told that I was to open this parcel immediately, I began to wonder just what would be inside. Could it be full of odd, painful sex toys, or filthy, erotic letters, would it be stuffed to the bursting with roses or some other sweet gift. You can imagine my disappointment then, when I found that inside the parcel was a pair of simple trousers, a shirt, and a letter, the contents of which was as follows:

  My Dear Young Servant Anthony,

  I look forward to receiving you this in a few days. Please don the included outfit, so that it may please me to look upon you. Your father has furnished me with your measurements, so this should fit rather well. Please, do not wear anything else at all, or you may be rather roughly dealt with. You must wear the garment for the entire journey. Please, keep your modesty intact - let no other man touch you.

  From your master,

  Lord Hastings

  The outfit itself, as I have mentioned, was unusually plain, especially consider
ing my memory of the clothes Lord Hastings had worn. It was tan and simple, and there was some lace to it, but nothing uncommon. There was a strange patch on the backside of the trousers, surrounded with buttons, but that was the only remarkable feature. It wasn’t until I tried it on that I realised just how small the shirt was. It was unbelievable! There was no way that I could possibly do it up, and when I had it on round my shoulders, my smooth young torso was clearly visible.

  ‘Oh sir, you do look…nice’ said Adelbert. He held his hand up to his mouth, to cover his blush.

  ‘No Adelbert, I look like a little rentboy!’ I said. ‘Well, what time is the Lord’s carriage arriving?’ I’d hoped to avoid seeing my wretched father that morning. I was so angry that I was being forcibly taken away from my childhood home and being made to serve a stranger that I would be happy to never see him again!

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I was told that you’re to walk to the offices of a hackney carriage company, and charter your own transport.’

  Walk? Through the city? Dressed like this? What an utterly humiliating prospect.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I didn’t see my father on my way from the house, thank goodness. It wasn’t a long walk to the hackney cab centre, but I shall never forget it. From the moment I left the house, the wolf-whistles started. The men who usually watched me as I walked to school with lust were now seeing me in an incredibly revealing outfit. I tried to keep the shirt as closed as possible around my torso, and the trousers were so tight around my young arse that its shape was plain to see for everyone I met. My heavy dick was also clearly outlined by the tight groin of the trousers.

  London smelled bad that morning, and you could tell that the nearby fish market was underway. I passed by the various shops and domiciles which I had known for so many years, and all of the shopkeepers looked at me with their eyes seemingly on stalks as they watched the shape of my body, struggling to escape from the tiny outfit. I’d never been so humiliated in all my life. To think of what all of those gurning, grinning men must have thought of me. A common rentboy wouldn’t even wear an outfit as revealing as mine had been.

  Luckily, in the offices of the hackney carriage company, the clerk was much more respectful. It might have had to do with the fact that the old fellow was clearly near-sighted, but he didn’t even look twice at me when I explained that I required passage to the castle of Lord Hastings, in the west-country. After we’d spoken about price (Adelbert had given me plenty of money to book the voyage, which had come straight from Lord Hastings, apparently) he escorted me to one of his carriages. The journey was to be long and potentially treacherous, so I settled in to the rather well appointed carriage with delight.

  I didn’t get a chance to see the man taking me until we stopped at an inn for the night and he opened the door for me. When he saw what I was wearing, his eyes nearly fell out of his head. He was a young man, much younger than I thought a carriage driver had any right to be, and he had big, bushy sideboards on the edge of his face. He was not unpleasant to look at, truth be told, and I was suddenly very interested in the fact that his eyes travelled down my form, past my neck, over my clavicles, down to my chiselled young pecs.

  ‘Young man,’ he said, ‘please step off so that we may lodge here this evening.’ I stepped out of the carriage, and followed my driver up the path to the country inn, as the night drew in around us.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  My room was rather bare, and after a dinner of roast beef and a few glasses of wine among the gawping travellers of the inn, I retired to it to sleep. I powdered my nose, and was just about to remove my outfit and slip between the covers of the bed, when I heard a heavy knock at my door. Ugh, who was disturbing me, just as I was preparing to rest for the night.

  ‘Sorry m’lord, it’s the carriage man, just to offer some advice for the night.’

  I opened the door and let the lad in. He was really young, he couldn’t have been more than thirty or so, which was older than me of course, but much younger than most of the men who’d driven me before.

  ‘Well,’ I said, watching again as his eyes played over my body, ‘what’s your advice?’

  ‘My advice is,’ he said, ‘don’t let strangers into your room at night.’ Then, with a filthy grin, he started to undo the buttons at his trousers. I noticed as he did it, a bulge which was under them, a filthy, disgusting bulge. I immediately knew what it was.

  ‘Sir!’ I said, ‘please, re-button your trousers and leave at once.’

  ‘But m’lord,’ he said, with a sly grin, ‘didn’t my Lord Hastings tell you, I’m to teach you one or two things before you meet him.’ He knew that I was meeting Lord Hastings? Had this all somehow been part of his plan?

  ‘What do you mean, some things?’ I said. I started to realise that something rather embarrassing was happening. Something that happened whenever I thought dirty, filthy thoughts about boys and the things between their legs: the thing between my legs had started to throb, had started to pulse and pound.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I’m not here to take your arsehole - that will be the Lord’s pleasure and the Lord’s pleasure alone.’ As he spoke, he continued to unbutton his trouser until, finally, it slipped to the ground. Then, I saw it; his meat. It sprung upward from his body like the trunk of some mighty oak. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m not here to give you pleasure, but to take it from you.’ My own length was going berserk. There was something so beautiful about him, about the way he stood to attention like that. And I knew that it had been me that caused it, that it had been the sight of me in my tight outfit that had driven this man to this state.

  ‘Does it, does it hurt, sir?’ I said, taking a step forward.

  ‘No, my lord, it does not hurt. But it likes to be touched. Would you like to touch it?’ I hesitated for a moment, and then I nodded slightly. I stepped forward again, and, trying to be calm, I laid my palm flat onto his prick, and felt how warm and smooth it was. He laughed, and as he did so, I felt his dick move under me.

  ‘Does that feel good?’ I asked.

  ‘It feels very good my little lord. Why not circle my dick with your hand, get a good feel for it?’ I did as he asked, using a hand to fully encircle him. I was amazed by the weight of his organ, and again by just how warm it was. It felt like there was a furnace inside, a fire, a passion. As I left my hand there, I felt his meat straining under me. I had of course played with my own meat many, many times, but this was the first time I’d been bold enough to touch another mans, although I’d thought of it many, many times.

  ‘Please my lord, please grip it and move your hand up and down, move my skin, it feels so good.’ I started to follow his instruction, moving my hand up and down his length, feeling the veins inside his organ, and the smooth skin. I watched as the skin moved up and down, revealing a bright red tip.

  ‘Now normally, about this time, I’d be begging you to let me into your arse, my dear,’ he said, starting to pant, ‘but I can’t do that, the Lord has forbidden it.’ I felt a sudden desire to let me into me surge through my body.

  ‘Is that what men do?’ I asked. ‘They put their meat into each other’s arses?’

  ‘They most certainly do,’ he said, ‘and there is a place inside you that, if I were to rub the tip of my meat on it, would unlock a pleasure in you that you’ve never before known.’