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3 – Darke
Darke was not the first sex-worker that Benedict had visited. He wasn’t even the first dom. He was the first one he did not have sex with during their first meeting though. Instead all they did was talk, without judgement, as they detailed eachother’s expectations of what a session would involve. Benedict hadn’t even known how to answer most of the questions, but that was okay, they’d explore Benedict’s needs and kinks and preferences together.
Everything remained in the room and Benedict could expect nothing but discretion. He was paying for that privilege after all.
What he liked and what his Master, Theodore, had wanted him to like were just all so tangled and twisted together that he never could tell one from the other. And so many of his sexual encounters since had just left him deeply unsatisfied.
He was always Benny here, or boy, never Benedict. The moment he stepped into the room he was expected to be naked, which was more difficult at first than it should have been. It had been many years since he’d been paraded through the city completely nude and shaking with terror, uncertain what to expect, and so grateful for Theodore’s tenderness. It had been so very many years since Theodore had demanded he should always be undressed in his presence.
For a moment he wondered what would happen if he stripped naked the next time he met with Theodore, just for old times sake but he quickly pushed that thought, as amusing as it was, aside.
When he was here, in this room he had to be here, in this room, in this moment, not stuck in the past with Theodore and his memories. It was about moving forward, not looking back.
Benny couldn’t do the mirror. Couldn’t stare at his reflection and all the changes that had overcome his body, the way the years had marked him. He disgusted himself, even as he found the traits he hated on his body so attractive in others.
He couldn’t look at his reflection as he was stroked to hardness, so they hadn’t done that. Instead he’d been guided away, laid on the bed and had every inch of his body worshipped with hands, and mouth, as he was told how beautiful and desirable he was. How he was such a good boy. And every time he tried to close his eyes and imagine himself elsewhere, Darke ordered him to keep them open.
He’d broken down into tears as he was fucked with such a gentle tenderness he came completely undone. And after, he was pampered, and bathed, with sweet care, and held in muscular strong arms, as he drifted off into a restful sleep.
He made sure to tip extra.
Benedict didn’t visit frequently. He knew the dangers he was courting if he did, the risk of growing attached. More often he just went to a different brothel for an uncomplicated fuck and one that didn’t leave him feeling completely wrung out. Darke never commented on the length of time between their sessions, nor made him feel anything but welcome.
Sometimes he spent the whole session, sitting on the floor, mouth around a fully-clothed Darke’s cock, as the man read, and idly petted his hair. If he was lucky Darke would let Benny suck him to completion and then send him on his way with a playful smack to his rear. He’d stroke off hard to those memories when he returned home and it fulfilled some sort of need he thought best not to question.
Sometimes he’d spend the entire time being fucked into exhaustion, voice hoarse with cries of ecstasy as orgasm after orgasm rolled over him.
More than once, when he admitted that he’d been bad, he’d find himself sprawled across Darke’s lap as if he was nothing more than a boy, and spanked until he came. And then forgiven he’d be forgiven, coddled and soothed afterwards.
Once, they’d been midfuck as the door to the room swung open. Benny was utterly humiliated as one of the other workers stood in the doorway, and carried out a conversation with Darke, as if Benny wasn’t even there. It had been so inappropriate! It could have waited for later. They spoke around Benny as if he was nothing, never acknowledging his existence. His face burned with humiliation. He just wanted to yell, lash out in anger, sob uncontrollably, or curl up on the bed and disappear. He did none of those things.
When the inane conversation stopped and the door closed once more, Darke resumed fucking him with an intensity that was at odds with that earlier indifference. He came so hard. And after he was held, and kissed, and soothed and told just how amazing he was.
Benedict knew it couldn’t last forever. He didn’t even know Darke’s real name. He didn’t know anything about his life outside of this room, outside of the brothel. Didn’t know much of him as a person, save for a few fragments he’d pieced together over the years. And more, he didn’t want to. It filled a need, one he paid highly for. But one that was best never to leave the room.
4 – No
Darke sprawled in his chair, wearing one of the ornate silken robes that he favoured. He took full advantage of his position to watch as Benedict quickly and efficiently undressed, hanging his own layers of clothing upon the back of the door.
Benedict… Benny’s stomach flipped and he shivered although it wasn’t cold.
“Hello Benny.”
Darke was not Master. He was not Sir. Those were Theodore’s titles and the politeness Benny used every day. It always felt strange to use them in a sexual context for someone who was not Theodore as if it was some sort of betrayal. They’d tried them to begin with, but then Darke had just ordered him to use his name if he needed to use anything at all.
“Darke.”
Darke’s gaze roved up and down his figure, appreciatively, and for a moment Benedict could almost forget that he was no longer the beautiful boy he had once been, who’d stirred desires just by existing and hadn’t needed to pay a professional just to feel…
“Here with me, Benny-boy,” Darke said, and Benny pushed his thoughts away. “Today, I want you to say no to me.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s fucking hot.”
“No.”
Darke smirks. “Good boy. That’s one.”
“No.” Benedict states.
“Two.”
“This is stupid.” Benedict knew Darke would explain if he asked but he didn’t care enough to press the point.
“Humour me?”
“You, are a very strange man.”
“So, if I were to tell you to wear that lingerie over there,” Darke asks, gesturing to the far too frilly, lacy outfit that would frankly look absolutely ridiculous on either of them and was for some inconceivable reason laid out atop one of the chairs. “What would you say?”
Benedict’s cheeks burned at the thought of trying to squeeze into that frothy pink nightmare. It would be humiliating but Darke had also never shown any desire for that sort of kink before. Lingerie, crossdressing and feminisation hadn’t been a hard no for Benny, but it wasn’t something he was at all interested in exploring either.
“It would hardly fit me.”
“And if I said to do it anyway?”
“No!”
“Good boy. Very emphatic. That’s three.”
“You’re a very strange man,” Benny repeats.
“Thank you. And you’re a very good boy. Now come over here and suck my cock.”
Was this a test? Was Benedict expected to say no? But he didn’t want to. He loved everything about sucking cock although for it to be demanded, and so early was different. “Make me.” Those defiant words were not a no. Darke liked him to misbehave.
And there was that smirk again, as Darke was up on his feet, prowling over. “On your knees, boy.” He pushed Benny down to his knees manhandling him into position. “I said suck my cock.”
Benedict didn’t want to say no, so he didn’t. “And I said make me.” He stared up at Darke, defiantly. As if he’d even been this disobedient. As if he’d have ever dared to say those words.
Darke grabbed Benny’s head, forcing his mouth open. It was brutal and fast and Benny could barely breathe, as the cock was forced down his throat. Tears welled in his eyes, as he was used with no regards for his own pleasure, his face fucked relentlessly. He was helpless, and choking and then Darke pushed him away and came all over his face.
Benny was left to gasp for air as Darke tucked himself back into his robes, his skin oversensitive as he reeled over what had just happened, trying to process it.
“Clean yourself up, boy,” Darke ordered. “You’re a mess.”
Benedict could have said no, his knees ached from the position he’d been in, his throat raw, his jaw sore and he just needed another moment, and he was still burning with the humiliation of the cum all over his face. He hated it, the mess of it, to be marked oh so obviously and despite everything his traitorous cock was rock hard.
But he didn’t say no. A strong hand was offered down to him, helping him to his feet, and he stood up, a little shakily, and an arm offered to him as he was lead to the bathroom, the cool tiles on the floor helping to calm the heat in his blood.
Darke tenderly wiped Benny’s face and chest clean with a wet cloth, making sure to get every drop, before kissing his forehead. “You’ve such a sweet mouth, boy. I love seeing it wrapped around my cock, knowing you’ll do whatever I want. You’re so beautiful, and obedient.”
“I’ll get us a drink.” Darke gave Benny a moment to gather himself together, to splash his own face in the basin. Benny caught his own gaze in the mirror and hesitated. He was such a sight, debauched and dishevelled, with swollen lips and his body oh so old. But then there was a strong arm around his shoulders, guiding him away and back into the main room without a word.
Darke pressed the glass into Benny’s hands. “Drink.” There was some sort of herb floating in the water, probably mint from the scent.
“No.” Benny wasn’t even sure why he said it, he was thirsty and his throat hurt and he did and he didn’t want to wash away that lingering taste of cock.
“Four. I’m so proud of you.”
Benny took a few mouthfuls of the water, and felt slightly better. Why was he being contrary? Why had he even said no?
Darke sprawled out on the luxurious sofa, picking up a book from the side-table.
“Now come sit next to me and we’ll read four chapters of that book you recommended.”
Benny could have said no. Could have pointed out that he was paying for sex, not for a man to read out loud to him, from a a book he’d already read. He could have protested, and demanded he at least get off first. But instead sat down on the sofa.
“Did I say you could sit on the furniture?”
Benny tensed. Did he? For a second Benedict couldn’t remember. “No?” But he was sure that was wrong, and the question had been gentle. “Yes.”
“Good boy, you’re right. You always listen so well. Come here, keep me warm while I read this book.”
Benny was drawn into an embrace, cuddled close. He was naked and Darke was dressed and who was meant to be keeping whom warm? And then they were kissing, and it was nice, sweet and affectionate and exactly as Benny liked. They just nuzzled and kissed for a time and Benny was hard again and only once he was smiling and happy did Darke open the book and start reading.
Darke had a wonderful voice, deep and rich and warm and he read aloud beautifully. Educated? There was a hint of an accent there that Benny never could quite place. Benny almost wondered why such a man was working here.
But he was jarred from such thoughts as he realised the first line Darke read was completely wrong.
“The penis mightier than the sword.”
“No,” Benedict blurted out.
“Five. What do you mean by no?”
“It’s pen is, not penis.” Benny said.
“There’s no space,” Darke replied, tilting the page so that Benny could see.
And indeed it was penis not pen is. Benny glanced at the rest of the page with a growing suspicion. “That’s not the book I suggested.”
“It’s not?” Darke replied, with mock-surprise.
“The book I suggested was certainly not pornogrpahic in nature.”
“Maybe it should have been,” Darke grinned. “Are you saying that I’m mistaken.”
Benny shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“Do you want to get the actual book?”
Benedict considered. “No.” He admitted. He’d have had to move and he was quite comfortable as he was.
“Six. Then I’ll continue. Six pages.” Darke read slowly, and it didn’t matter, for his voice was seduction itself. Soon he had Benny helping turn the pages, as idly petted and stroked what skin he felt like. The attention, and those filthy words doing terrible things, leaving Benny distracted and flustered. And when skilled fingers left their play on his nipples to wrap around his cock, Benedict gasped.
The petting was distracting, and shouldn’t have felt as good as it was, and for all it lacked purpose and seemed designed to just tease him, by the end of the third page Benedict said “No.” He couldn’t even remember how many times that was now. Did it even matter any more?
“Good boy.” Darke’s hand had stopped moving, letting go of his cock, and Benedict resisted the urge to thrust up into it. “What is it, Benny?”
“Going to come…”
“Sweet boy,” Darke kissed his cheek as Benny trembled. “What do you want?”
“You said six pages, is only three.”
“Okay. Seven now if you want them.” Benny nodded. “I’m going to continue reading and you’re not to come until I’m done. You’ve always shown such control, Benny. I’m not going to make this easy on you. Do you think you can do it?”
Benny wasn’t even sure if he wanted to. “Yes.”
“Good boy.” Darke kissed him again and then continued.
Who wrote a book that was entirely lewd chapter after chapter with barely the hint of a plot to string it together. The intrepid hero seemed to be using his euphemistic sword to solve all of his problems, with the motto of why stab with a blade when you can use your cock. Benny tried to follow the plot, and it was far hotter than it should be, and all too distracting and trying not to come as he was teased felt almost impossible.
All it took was for Darke to order, “come now” as he finished the last words at the end of the first chapter, and Benny did exactly as he was told.
“That was beautiful, Benny. You did so well.”
Benny caught his breath, just luxuriating in the afterglow of the orgasm, the closeness of the other man, and that feeling of contentment. If he’d been younger…
“But look what you’ve made me do, I’ve lost my place, I’m going to have to start again, from the beginning.”
Sated and sleepy and altogether content, Benedict murmured a quiet, “no.”
“Okay, but only this time, since you’ve been such a good boy.” And with that Darke scooped him up as if he weighed nothing more than the boy he’d once been, carried him over to the bed.
There’d be a nap and then hopefully more fucking in those quiet sleepy hours in the middle of the night, when they could put aside their words and just languish in the pleasures of sex for a time. Sometimes Benny liked to surprise Darke, to take out all of his own considerable skills, and prove he could give every bit as good as he got, each gasp, each cry of pleasure was a reward in itself.
In another life, Benny might have ended up in a place like this and would it really have been so bad? But he’d have had a collar around his neck, his earnings would have gone to someone else, and he’d have had no say in anything at all. Theodore had saved him from that fate. He did not want to think of what his life would be like without Theodore. If his Master hadn’t come by the market. If he’d been returned at the first signs of Ian’s disapproval.
Later, Benny would sneak out, returning home before the rest of Theodore’s household were awake. And as strange as it sometimes was, Benny considered it money well spent.
5 – Thirty-Eight
“Thirty-eight.” Benedict took in Darke’s puzzled expression, as the man waited for him to elaborate.
“Thirty-eight boys that have left never to return.” Benedict could have named them all. Listed those names as a litany. Their likes, their dislikes, their favourite foods. “That’s two, sometimes three a year.” He waited for the revulsion, the judgement to set in. It never did. Darke’s expression remained one of quiet concern.
“It never gets better. I can’t save him from the pain. Can’t save him from himself. Thirty-eight boys. Aren’t you going to say something? Call me a monster?”
“Benedict,” Darke breathes the name. “If you’re looking for judgement, or forgiveness, go to a church.” He let those words sink in. “But you might have long and far to look to find one free of sin.”
Benedict choked out something between a sob and a laugh.
“Punish me. Please.” Benedict pleaded. “I need.”
“You’re going to have to trust me.” Darke said.
Benedict nods. “Yes, Darke.”
“Thirty-eight lashes?”
That seemed about right. Thirty-eight boys that had each left, taking with them a piece of Theodore’s heart. Five currently remaining in the house. Then Denny. Daniel. And himself.
“Forty-four.” Darke did not question the change of number. “Please.” It was a lot. So many to bear. He wanted to feel the pain. Let it bleed away. He’d endure. He always did.
6 – Love
“Darke, do you love me?” Benny asked.
“Why do you ask?”
There were others, courtesans, prostitutes, high-class whores, who would have said yes, of course and those lies would have been weighted by the gold that Benny paid. There had been boys who’d made professions of love, but they’d have always left in the end regardless of whether or not he accepted them. He’d no interest in boys, and their hearts had never really belonged to him. There’d been men, over the years, one who’d even thought of saving him from Theodore as if Theodore were not already his salvation.
“Sorry, it was a stupid question.”
“I didn’t say that. Something’s bothering you? Do you want to go through to the receiving room so we can talk?”
Benny… Benedict pulled on the robe that Darke gave him and sat on one of the chairs as Darke went through the ritual of making them both some tea.
They’d discussed it right at the start, boundaries and emotions and both of their expectations. It had been extremely important.
“I need to know if you’re looking for reassurance and support.” Darke said. Was he? “Or if you want me to tell you no so that you can hate yourself.”
“I don’t know.” Benedict said. “The truth?”
“Benedict?”
His full name. It still wasn’t an answer to his question. This was so stupid. “Why am I so unloveable?”
“Oh sweetheart,” Darke’s voice was full of sympathy, but not pity. “Can I touch you?”
He always asked for permission out here, where the rules were different. “Yes.”
Darke rose and moved next to Benedict, wrapping strong arms around him, holding him close while he trembled.
“Are you in love with me?” Darke asks.
“Will you stop seeing me if I am?”
“Would you want me to?”
Benedict shrugs, helplessly. He knows far better than to get attached.
“Will I tell you what I think?”
Benedict nods.
“You’re so starved for any sort of affection, that it’s natural for you to develop feelings for anyone who pays you attention. You enjoy our time together, but sometimes feel guilty for that enjoyment. What we have, I would not label love on either side. Which is not to say that I’m not incredibly fond of you, Benedict.
“We see each other, once a month, if that. And no, that’s not a complaint, that makes our time together very special. I do enjoy your visits very much. My praise and compliments are never lies.”
“You say that to everyone.”
Darke drew back. “We agreed that I would not lie to you. Do you trust me?”
Benedict knew a lot of this hung upon truth. Open communication was important, even the difficult conversations. “Yes.”
“Then believe me in what I say. It’s not good for either of us, for you to second guess me like that.”
“As you say,” Benedict conceded.
“We agreed, at the start,” Darke corrected. It was a gentle reminder. “And that if either of us felt as if we were getting too attached we would discuss it. Do you think it’s becoming an issue? If it is we can renegotiate our boundaries, or I can recommend you to someone else who’ll be better able to take care of your needs.”
“Do you think it’s an issue?”
Darke considered Benedict. “If it’s making you unhappy, then yes. If you’re still getting something out of visiting me, then no. Now, did you actually want an answer to your previous question?”
Which one? “Yes.”
“If you’re looking for love, get a dog.”
Benedict laughed, in spite of himself. It was not what he expected to hear “I don’t have time.” Dogs could be demanding and he was certain that Theodore would not appreciate one around..
“Cat then. Or, you could get yourself a slave.”
Benedict shuddered with revulsion at the idea.
“There are older slaves.”
Benedict shook his head. The idea of owning another person filled him with revulsion. Even if he had had the time and money and a place to keep them. It would be completely the wrong dynamic. A slave, even an older one, could never fulfill his needs.
“You could make some time to court someone. I am sure that you have many admirers.”
Benedict shook his head, again.
“If you don’t, then it’s because you do everything in your power to discourage them. You could hire a matchmaker to find potential partners for you.”
“I suppose you know someone?”
“I could put you in touch if you wanted. There’s a wealth of older men out there that are looking for companionship and would appreciate you very much. A trained matchmaker could certainly find you some suitable candidates.”
Options. Choices. Benedict didn’t want any of them. He could never leave Theodore, nor have his loyalties divided in such a manner. Theodore needed him.
“Or you could pay someone to love you.”
“You?”
“Would you trust me if I started making declarations of love? If you’re looking for a grand love affair, it’s probably best not to ask an old whore.”
“You’re not.”
“Oh I am,” Darke smiles. “But it’s nothing I’m ashamed of. I enjoy it. You’re not unloveable, Benedict. You are very guarded, understandably so. You should start by loving yourself.”
Benedict blushed at that.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“I will.” Benedict sighs. “I always am.”
“What do you want to do?” Darke asks. “Now, not in general. Do you need some time?”
“I’d like you to make me forget all this.”
“I might not be a wizard, but I can certainly fuck you so hard you won’t be able to remember your name. The penis mightier than the wand. That’s the sequel.”
Benedict laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It is. You should read some of the things he does with that wand. Real feats of magic. The wand isn’t always his penis either.”
“Show me.” Benedict blushed, bright red as he asked.
“Go back through, when you’re ready, and strip off. You’re far too dressed to see my ‘wand collection’.”
Benny learned an awful lot about how best to use a wand, that night. He hadn’t realised how versatile they were.
7 – Boundaries
“There’s a boy,” Benedict says.
Darke just makes a sound that he’s listening.
“He is a little too enthusiastic for the master’s taste.”
“Benedict,” Darke spoke the name sharply. A reprimand. “We agreed that we are never to discuss either of our businesses, here.”
“I’m worried about him, he’s going to go through his money in next to no time and…”
“Benedict, speak to Silver.” She was the one who kept everything running smoothly and had been his first point of contact with the House. House not Brothel. Manager not Madam. Courtesans not whores. She was a woman of ideas, and also of contacts. Darke was right, she would have been the better person to speak with even if there wouldn’t be employment available here. “She should be free just now.” That was a dismissal. Had he broken things so badly?
“I’m sorry, I should not have spoken of it.”
“You were the one who set that rule. If I allow you to break it just once, we’ll never be alone in here again.”
“You could punish me.”
“Not for that.” Darke replied. “I’m not angry at you. I know it’s such a big part of your life that it was inevitable that you would test those boundaries. You put them there for a reason though. It is a privilege that you shared your fears with me, and trusted me enough to enforce them.
“I’ll look forward to seeing you on your next visit, but you’ve clearly got a lot on your mind just now.” Which had been part of the reason why he’d been looking for a distraction. Darke’s expression softened. “When you’re with Silver, make another appointment. I should have something free in the next few days if you want. And if that does not work with your schedule I’ll see you again when you’re ready.”
Benedict nodded.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes.” He always was.
How Best to Use a Sword 