Chapter 2

I could weep when I think of his masculine beauty. More perfect than a Greek god in marble. And it used to be mine. His heart, his body and soul, belonged to me alone. Not a day or night went by that we didn’t make love. He never cared whether the servants were around or not. When he wanted my body, he took it.

A knock at the door rouses me from my thoughts.

“Enter.”

Lester, my handsome valet and butler, enters. He’s naked, as is one of the conditions of employment at Hilldare Manor. To date I haven’t received a single complaint about this clause, in fact, many men who are ‘that way inclined’, as they say in polite society, seek out the manor for a position because of it. My titillation is of no consequence to any of the males in my employ when compared to the alternatives—a life of lies and the ever-present fear of discovery and of being sent to prison.

“Will you be taking breakfast in your room this morning, sir?” he asks.

He’s slender and muscular, his skin creamy and peppered with pale freckles. His cock is pendulous and hangs down heavily over equally low-hanging balls. I notice he’s neatened up his pubic area. I walk across to where he’s standing and run the palm of my hand over it.

“It looks nice like that.”

Lester’s cock begins to stir. “Thank you, sir,” he says. “I’m glad you like it.”

Then I remember his question. “No, Lester. I’ll go downstairs.”

Without pause Lester opens the door and holds it for me as I walk through, his semi-erect cock brushing my thigh.

“Where’s Eduardo?” I ask.

I barely even notice the paintings and flowers that populate the walls and tables of the carpeted hallway. As I child I would study each painting until I knew I’d absorbed every detail. Often I would ask one parent or the other a question about something I had seen. Why was the lady on the swing?Swings were for children. Why weren’t the farmer’s clothes dirty?If he was really a farmer then surely his garments would be streaked with evidence of his labour.

“I think he’s in the barn, working on one of the ploughs.”

I roll my eyes.

“Why does he do it?” I mutter.

“Sorry, sir?” asks Lester, who’s immediately behind me as we descend the stairs.

I shake my head. “Never mind.”

In the dining room I serve myself bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast from the silver breakfast service on the sideboard. Taylor, tall, slender, and blonde, brings me my newspaper and pours my coffee. His cock is nothing to write home about, but it does have one remarkable feature—its foreskin. It’s the longest foreskin I’ve ever seen, and while I have examined it with my fingers, I long to chew on it. It looks as though it would feel good between my teeth. Of course I won’t do anything so intimate while my heart still belongs to Eduardo.

I eat my breakfast, pushing equal amounts of egg, bacon, and toast onto my fork, chewing and swallowing one mouthful before drinking a mouthful of coffee. I wasn’t ever aware I ate in such an ordered manner until Eduardo pointed it out and now, even though I realise what I’m doing, I don’t think I ever deviate from the routine.

“Lester!” I call after I’ve finished both my breakfast and the newspaper. “Bring me my robe.”

Lester appears at the door, nods, then disappears again. He returns surprisingly fast with my silk robe, a present from Eduardo during our short sojourn in the Far East two years prior. I stand and Lester dresses me. I feel his cock brush against me on two occasions. I feel my own cock stir. Moments like this are why I insist on nudity at the manor

I walk through the kitchen to the mud room, step into a pair of rubber boots, and enter the day. The robe is a precaution against unexpected visitors, especially the kind who don’t understand the allure of an erotic lifestyle. As it is, the garment offers scant coverage. While walking purposefully towards the barn, it flies open and billows out behind me, the light fabric flapping wildly against the naked flesh of my buttocks and thighs.

I hear the sound of industry as I near the barn. When I enter Eduardo is bent over the plough, spanner in hand. He has one foot up on the brace beam, tightening something. His lightly-haired buttocks are parted slightly and I can see the thick line of hair that traces the crack. His balls are hanging down, large and full, and are swinging with each turn of the spanner.

I’m immediately erect.