Jarrod of Hartshorn Hill

Again the Head Guardsman made the arrangements with the Innkeeper and a filling meal was served to Lord Hartshorn and his slaves. As a gesture of kindness for their service, and as a means to rid himself for the night of them, Lord Hartshorn gave his guardsmen and the driver permission to use the two slave girls for the night. This was not an uncommon practice so no one thought ill of it but it did give Lord Hartshorn the opportunity to request Jarrod stay with him in his room.

When they reached the room, Lord Hartshorn quickly locked the door and ordered Jarrod to disrobe as he did the same. He led the boy to the bed, laying him upon his back, and kneeling between his parted thighs. Spitting into the palm of his hand, Lord Hartshorn rubbed it on his tip then used both hands to lift Jarrod's legs up and back. Pushing the head of his cock quickly into the tight hole, he was soon buried deep within that tightness he was becoming so fond of. Looking into the boy's bright blue eyes, Lord Hartshorn lowered his lips and captured those of his slave. His tongue slid between the soft pink and found Jarrod's tongue, wet and warm. Lord Hartshorn continued to kiss his slave passionately and shivered with pleasure as he felt the boy's cock hardening where it pressed against his stomach. He continued to pump deeply into the treasure trove he had acquired until he broke the kiss and asked the boy, "Does it bother you to see me with the girls, slave?"

Knowing it would do no good to lie, Jarrod bit his lip and turned his head so as to not have to look in his Master's eyes. "Yes, Master, it does," he admitted, a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.

"Good", Lord Hartshorn grinned and then, with three more steady thrusts, he came hard inside the ass of his slave. After his balls were drained completely, he slid his cock out of his slave's tightness and rolled over on his back. Wrapping his arm around the boy, he pulled him against this chest and fell asleep.

When the morning came and Jarrod awoke, he was still held tightly within his Master's arms. He smiled at this then slowly got out of the bed, putting on his garments and preparing the room for his Master. He moved quietly about the room but quickly heard his Master stirring behind him and Jarrod turned to greet him.

Soon they were on there way once more, piled into the coach. Lord Hartshorn smiled with joy, knowing he would soon be home. It was near noon when they entered the grounds of the estate but close to one before they got to the hall. There, he quickly dismounted from the coach and bound up the stairs like a boy.

His housekeeper was nearby and he sent her to the coach to retrieve his purchases. She came in holding their leashes as if they were snakes and was none to glad to hand them over to her Master. He unhooked the leashes upon the girl's necks and sent them off in Hetty's, his housekeeper, capable hands. She led the girls off to the slave quarters while Lord Hartshorn led Jarrod on his leash up the main stairs and down the corridor to the Master's private chambers.

When they entered, Jarrod was impressed. First off, the keep was huge. And the Master's chambers were luxurious. They were actually a number of rooms that joined together, much like an apartment. There were two entrances, as Jarrod would later discover: the main entrance they had come in and the slave entrance which is where he would later enter and exit.

The Main Room when you entered was like a lounge. It consisted of some sturdy chairs, a few sofas, a large fireplace, a number of bookshelves and a small bar. This room led off to a few smaller rooms and the Master's bedchamber. Lord Hartshorn led Jarrod to one of the smaller rooms, a bare lackluster room which consisted of a cot and a well-worn wardrobe. A chamber pot was discreetly hidden beneath the cot.

"This is yours," Lord Hartshorn indicated to Jarrod. Even though it was sparse, Jarrod had never had his own room and he smiled with pleasure.

"Thank you, Master," his eyes lowered, he knew he was a lucky slave.

"Come," the Master ordered and the slave, still held by his leash, obeyed. Lord Hartshorn led him into his private bedroom. His hand pointed to some pallets spread at the foot of his bed. "Most often, you will retire here. I wish to have you close."

Jarrod acknowledged this with a nod as the Master led him to a wardrobe to the side. Within, the Master took out a dressing gown of the finest-silk, a heavenly deep blue shade. He handed it to Jarrod. "You will wear this and only this in my private chamber. In the rest of the rooms, he may attire as you wish. Now, disrobe and put it on."

Jarrod quickly removed his garments and wrapped the silk around him. He had never felt such a fine cloth upon his skin. He smiled up at his Master who beckoned him.

He followed his Master into one of the antechambers and he quickly noticed it was a Punishment room. Jarrod blinked his crystal blue eyes at this Master, not understanding what he had done wrong.

"You are Mine to do with as I see fit, slave," Lord Hartshorn pulled the robe off of Jarrod and led him to the wall. Cuffs and chains were affixed to it and soon Jarrod was secured by his wrists, neck, ankles and waist. The slave effectively could not move nor turn his head. Lord Hartshorn turned, walked to the small brazier and lit it. When he knew it had caught, he stuck the iron within it. Leaving it, he crossed to the wall where he had hung the whips, crops and floggers he enjoyed. He took down one of his favorites, a well worn flogger, and returned to the boy.

Without a word, he lifted the flogger and brought the braided straps down upon the slave's bare ass. The boy let out a yelp of pain which was quickly followed by another blow of the flogger. The slave shook in his restraints and another blow, a cry and another blow, a whimper and another blow, a scream and another blow. By now, the skin was beginning to break and his ass was a fiery red. Lord Hartshorn undid his pants. He placed his hands, fingers splayed, upon the slave's ass. His thumbs were positioned by the dark star and pulled it open. Then the Lord shoved his thick, hard and long cock in one movement deep into his slave's beaten bottom.

Jarrod cried out in pain. His Master was not being gentle, not at all. His Master was raping him. He had never been used so roughly and the pain was so immense. The fingers tightening on his beaten ass cheeks added to his discomfort. His Master was thoroughly enjoying himself, pounding deep into his tortured flesh again and again. In fact, his thrusts were so deep and hard, Jarrod was bouncing off the wall and back onto him with every one. Tears welled in his eyes as his ass was used. He could hear his Master's deep breaths in his ear, felt his pace increasing. With a sharp cry, he came, filling Jarrod's ass. Jarrod was relieved, his cock and balls were sore from being slammed against the wall, not to mention his ass being on fire. Master slid out of Jarrod and moved from the room. Jarrod hung there for what seemed like forever, half-awake, half-asleep, the pain lessening with time but still there nagging him.

Lord Hartshorn attended to matters of the estate and had a light meal in his study before returning to his chambers. He entered the punishment antechamber and saw the slave was half-unconscious. This was a good thing. He crossed to the brazier to check the iron, it was white hot. Perfect. Picking it up, he turned to Jarrod. Finding the right spot, he poured his glass of scotch on it to clean it before pressing the iron against it.

Jarrod came back to his senses when a burning hot pain flew through his body from a spot on his upper right thigh. It felt as if he had been burnt. He would discover later that indeed he had been.

Lord Hartshorn pressed the brand tightly against his new slave's leg. When the iron stopped sizzling, he pulled it away and checked the burn. It would be difficult to tell how well the brand would heal for a few days but it looked acceptable. Setting the iron down, reminding himself to have the blacksmith clean and check it, he found the bottle of aloe the housekeeper had made for him. He applied some lightly to the wound to ease the burning. Talking as he worked, "You have been branded as property of the Hartshorn Estate, slave. It is permanent and so are you."

Jarrod gasped. It was rare for slaves to be branded as it brought down their resale value. Very few owners wanted a slave with another owner's brand, especially a pleasure slave. Through his pain, Jarrod actually managed a smile. He was becoming quite fond of his Master and this development was exciting.

Now Lord Hartshorn began rubbing his hands all over the flesh of his branded slave. It was exciting to own such a magnificent beast. The slave was in prime condition, extremely attractive and had the ability to make him hard very quickly. Already, Lord Hartshorn could feel the familiar tingling in his groin. But he continued to examine every inch of his new toy with his hands and fingers. He could hear the boy's faint moans of pleasure at his gentle touch. That pleased him and cooled his ardor. The boy had had enough for one day. He would not use him again until he had a chance to heal.

He unchained the boy from the wall and led him to his slave quarters. He helped the boy lay on his belly on his small cot. He went back into his chamber and retrieved the boy's clothes. Then he crossed into the punishment chamber to retrieve the robe he had gifted the boy. He carried these into the boy's room and saw he was already fast asleep. He would remind Hetty to have the estate nurse check on the boy daily. He hung the boy's clothing inside the empty wardrobe and returned to his own chamber.

Lord Hartshorn had been away from this, his main holding, for some time so he had a great deal of estate business to attend to. It kept him busy for days and gave the new slave a chance to heal. The nurse advised him the boy was healthy enough to resume his duties and the Lord smiled at that thought. He closed the ledger he had been working on and gave orders to Hetty on his way to the hall.

Hetty was fast and when Lord Hartshorn reached his chambers, the boy was kneeling on his pallet at the end of the Master's bed in his blue silk robe. The slave looked up at him with those pale blue eyes and Lord Hartshorn was lost. In two steps, he had his pants undone and his cock buried inside the boy's warm mouth. It did not take long for him to cum and as he did he told the boy he had missed him. The boy softly whispered he had missed his Master as well. He led the boy to the small chamber where he had his meals up here in his private suite. There Hetty had had a light supper laid out and he and the boy enjoyed it. When they were finished, he took the boy's hand and led them back to his bedroom.

They slipped out of their robes and climbed into the thick wide mattress. Master took the slave into his arms and kissed him like a lover. Long slow sweet kisses with their tongues meeting, which gave them both painful erections. Soon they were making love, the Master inside the slave, both crying out as they came, so full of desire for each other.

Then the Master wrapped his arms around the slave and they fell asleep, together.

So began Jarrod's life at Hartshorn Hill. Soon his days became structured and full. He became his Master's valet, caring and cleaning his clothing, as well as his lover. He often stayed in the Master's bed with him and was quite at home anywhere within the chamber. When the Master had business to attend to off the Hill, Jarrod would wander the chamber until he returned. Master became quite accustomed to returning home to find Jarrod kneeling on his pallet or sitting upon the window seat reading a book. Then Master would quickly gather Jarrod into his arms and kiss him or make love to him. These were idyllic days for Jarrod. He had never known such passion or devotion from another human being and he soon felt a strong emotional attachment to his Master.

Lord Hartshorn shared his slave's feelings. He despised leaving the estate but he did have other holdings and it was inconvenient to take Jarrod with him. He knew from past experience that his business would take much longer if he had a paramour along so Jarrod was left behind. But the days on the Hill were glorious ones. Often, Lord Hartshorn would take Jarrod for walks about the grounds and, out of eyesight; they would hold hands and giggle like any young couple. They soon found a favorite spot at the top of the third crest where there was a field of willow trees. Often Jarrod would dart among them, knowing Lord Hartshorn would follow. When he was caught, they would tumble to the ground and wrestle like school boys. They were good days, very good days.

Jarrod was by no means perfect and he did often get in trouble. There were a number of times when Master beat him. But if Master was very angry with Jarrod he discovered a much better way to punish him. Master would order Jarrod to sleep on his pallet at the foot of Master's bed while Master entertained one or more of the female slaves within it. This was much more painful to Jarrod than any beating as to see the man you were growing to love intimate with another person was very difficult for him. Often he would sob softly, in hopes he would not be heard, as he listened to the noises of passion coming from his Master's bed.

Time flew by for the lovers, as it usually does when you want to savor each moment. They became accustomed to each other, of always being near each other. Lord Hartshorn began to look forward to those times when they were separated as the reunions were so sweet. Between the Hill, Stratton Bend, The Hall at the Cove and his house in the city, he spent a great deal of time traveling. His returns to the Hill were bittersweet and filled with soft kisses and delight in being in each other's arms once more.

Lord Hartshorn was powerful in the government and did need to spend a great deal of time in the city. He let his advisors do as much as possible for him but still his presence was often required. It was on one of these required visits to the city where all the government business was transacted that his advisors told him there was a problem. Apparently word was circulating about his relationship with Jarrod and some found it unsatisfactory. It was not that Jarrod was male; it was that he was a slave. Lord Hartshorn ignored his advisors and continued on with his life and his lover, enjoying every moment he could with him.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. Another trip to the city was required. Again Lord Hartshorn's advisors suggested he do something about his slave boy. Again Lord Hartshorn ignored them. But it was becoming difficult. Lord Hartshorn noticed that many turned their backs to him now when he passed by. He heard the whispers behind their hands. And he noted the invitations to events were not coming as often.

As the time passed, it became worse. The women giggled when he passed by. He was not advised of important votes in the government. It was as if he did not exist. This infuriated him as he had worked hard to work his way up inside the government. To be so casually dismissed because of his desire for a slave was vexing. He finally realized he had to do something but he did not know what. So he sat with his advisors and finally listened to what they said. Then he came to a decision and headed back to the Hill.

When he got home, he immediately headed to his private chambers. Jarrod was there waiting for him, kneeling on his pallet. Lord Hartshorn quickly took his slave in his arms and carried him to the bed where they made love. Afterwards, he held the boy in his arms for what seemed like hours as they talked and kissed and enjoyed each other as lovers do. He was hard pressed to tell the boy things had to change. He hated to do so but when it came right down to it, his reputation was far more valuable than any slave, even Jarrod.

Finally, Lord Hartshorn told the boy. He would be sold. There was no other way about it. He could not keep the boy and his reputation. It was an impossible situation. So the boy would have to go.

Jarrod was devastated. He could not imagine a life without his Master. He had spent so many wonderful months with him. He had grown to care for him so deeply. Master had become his life and his reason for being. And now, to be told he could not be with Master any longer was horrible. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He did not know what to say.

"Master, I don't want to leave you," he managed to finally whisper.

"And I don't want to lose you, boy, but I will," Lord Hartshorn managed to stay calm.

Jarrod looked at his Master for a long time before he spoke again. "I cannot imagine a life without you, Master. You are my life. Please do not send me away. Please. There has to be another way."

Lord Hartshorn sighed. He could understand the boy's feelings. He was reluctant to do this as well. But he knew if he kept the boy, he would continue to use him. Even if he sent the boy to one of his other estates, it would do no good. He would still own the boy so his reputation would still be at risk. "No, boy, you have to go. There is no other way."

Jarrod bit his lip and spoke his mind. "Master, I would rather die than live without you. Please do not send me away. Death would be better. You are my life. I do not want to live if it is not with you."

Lord Hartshorn looked at his slave. "You don't know what you are saying and you certainly do not mean it. You will adjust to your new life. You do not have a choice."

"Do not tell me I do not have a choice!" Jarrod said angrily. "I know I am a slave. I know you own me. But I do not want to live without you. How can you dismiss my feelings after all we have been to each other? Do you think my feelings are less than yours because I am a slave? They are not! Master, please! I do not want to live if I cannot be with you. Trust me, I know what I say. I mean what I say."

The lovers were quiet for a long time as they both considered their feelings and their life together. The times they had spent with each other were fresh upon their minds. The desire and passion, the friendship and loyalty, the need to be together, these things were honest and true and strong. Neither one could dismiss them. Neither one could deny that the other had feelings or needs or thoughts of his own. Even though Jarrod was a slave, he was also human.

"Very well," Lord Hartshorn said as he rose from the bed. As he redressed, he spoke quietly to his slave. "Think about what you have said. Truly think about it. I will return." Then he left his chambers.

Hours later, he returned. Jarrod was kneeling on his pallet. Lord Hartshorn walked up to him, towering over him. "Well, boy. Shall I sell you or kill you?"

Jarrod's lip trembled. Tears lingered on his lashes. "Master, I would rather die than live without you. The time we have spent together has been the best of my life. I know I am a slave. But I do not want to live without you. I have thought about this, Master, over and over again. Please do not sell me. Please. I do not want to live if I cannot be with you. I love you, Master."

Lord Hartshorn looked down into those blue eyes he was so fond of. His own eyes became hard and cold. He ran his fingers through the boy's golden locks. His finger tipped the boy's chin up so their eyes met. "I love you too, Jarrod."

Then he slit the boy's throat.