Legacy: William's Story

Legacy: William's Story

By YodaandLumiere

1748

My family had lived in the north for generations beyond memory. We had as many Scots in our family as English, living so close to the border. We lived in a tiny village known as Silverton. It was near the springs of Gilsland, on the border. I spent many nights of my youth, camped next to Hadrian's wall.

I had spent most summers helping old Mr. Turnbull with his sheep and crops on the Scottish side of the wall. I grew up alongside his children. His daughter Liza was my age. Matthew was next, he was a handful of years younger than us. And then there were two younger sisters, Margaret and Frances.

Farmer Turnbull, Matthew and myself worked well together and I enjoyed the labor.

I was eighteen that summer and restless. More restless than ever before. I wanted everything a young man wanted. I craved adventure, independence, companionship. I was ready to find my destiny. My mother and grandmother lived in the village. They both called me a dreamer. And maybe I was. What's the harm in dreaming?

My dreams stretched beyond the borderlands of my youth. I imagined myself in London or even further south in Cornwall, on the far southern coast. I had even bigger dreams of heading across the seas to the colonies and starting my own life, anew, in a new place. I always felt restless.

I had confided in my cousin Thomas, that I was restless and craving adventure. He informed me that that meant it was time to marry and settle down. He was sure a wife and family would knock that craziness out of my mind. I needed to support my mother and grandmother. It was time to be practical.

I asked Liza to marry me. We had not courted. We were not interested in each other, really. But young women and men were not in abundance, so many people around here married someone of a similar age and in close proximity. Liza accepted my proposal. That winter, during the holiday festivities, we were wed. I was nineteen and she was eighteen.

At nineteen, I was just over six feet tall, broad shouldered, muscular and lean from hard work. I had dark hair and dark eyes. I looked like many of the Medford men in my family had. Most of my father's side of the family was gone now. Almost all my surviving relatives were Reeds, my mother's side of the family.

Liza was fair, with light red hair and blue eyes. She was a beauty, to be sure. She was a strong girl, both of body and of will. She would make an ideal wife and mother. I really should have counted myself lucky. But unlike what my cousin Thomas Reed had said, I now felt more trapped than ever.

And so it was, I, William Medford, took Liza Turnbull to be my lawfully wedded wife just as 1748 ended and the new year began.

Liza and I were friends. We never were in love. It took a full year for us to become with child. Liza was worried that everyone would blame her for being infertile. But truthfully, we nearly never laid together, as man and wife. I was to blame for our lack of children.

I was relieved when she finally fell pregnant. I had nearly a year ahead of me where I wouldn't need to lay with her again.

During those months of her pregnancy, I was spending time away, hunting, fishing, trading. Anything really, to stay away. I had met a landed Lord in my travels to trade in the bigger, distant villages along the border. He had taken an immediate liking to me. It made me nervous and oddly aroused.

I had seen my cousin Thomas getting his cock sucked by his wife's mother, behind the barn one day. I watched. The nature of the encounter had made me excited. But more than anything, I found myself watching Thomas. The way his body moved. The look of pleasure on his face. His cock was smaller than mine, but I wished it was me on my knees in front of him instead of his mother-in-the-law. This memory flashed into my mind when I met the Lord.

His name was Eric, he looked like a Viking, much like his ancestors had been. He was larger than me, very fair of hair and eyes. His skin was tan from spending all his time working outside. He was in his mid 30's. He was married and had seven children. But that night, he wanted me in his bed. I was terrified at first, at the thought. But that memory of Thomas's cock entered my mind, unbidden, and my body reacted and betrayed my innermost thoughts and desires.

Eric took me to his bed and when I resisted, out of fear, not lack of desire, he forced me. It was incredible. I enjoyed every part of it, even the fear and the forceful submission. I had sucked his large, pale cock, as it jutted from the curly red gold hair that covered his chest and crotch. He would force my face down into that hair with his shaft down my throat. I gagged and he would just push harder.

I thought about our encounter constantly, for weeks. I would pleasure myself while thinking about Eric, behind my house every night while my pregnant wife slept inside. She was close to giving birth, otherwise I would have traveled to see Eric again. My whole body throbbed with want for him.

The last few weeks of her pregnancy, Liza was very ill. She couldn't keep her meals down. She would have a fever on and off. The doctor had no answers other than advanced pregnancy. I prayed she would feel better soon as the birth became imminent in the evening after her worst fever yet. She labored for close to 30 hours. She was so weak before it started, I was in awe that she had survived the ordeal thus far.

It was afternoon when the baby finally came. It was a boy. He was born deceased. Liza became a ghost of herself and stayed abed for several months. The doctor thought the illness must have been caused by our son's death. She must have carried his dead body for several weeks before she delivered him. The doctor was surprised Liza had survived, too.

Liza's body had survived, but she had not. She had lasting effects from the fevers and her mind was broken, beyond repair by the sorrow.

We never attempted another pregnancy. We never shared a bed again. I had been back to see Eric several times as another year went by. The times with him were what I lived for. I didn't care deeply for Eric, I just needed him. I needed him to use me, to order me to my knees. I would feel complete joy in those moments.

When he first bent me over in his chamber and forced his manhood inside me, I tried to pull away and he wouldn't let me. He overpowered me and forced himself inside, deeply, repeatedly. It burned, it hurt and I loved it. The harder he used me and abused me, the more I wanted. I wanted this everyday. I wept as I made my way back to Silverton after that visit.

A few months later, Liza went to visit her parents at the Turnbull farm. After two days at her childhood home, she wandered off in the night while her parents and sisters slept. In the morning, her father found her drowned in the creek almost a mile from the house. No one knew if she had fallen and hit her head, sleepwalked or drowned herself purposefully.

It was late in 1752, I was 23 now. I was a widower and the father of a son who had never taken a living breath. I had been having sexual relations with a married man and I was deeply unhappy. I went through my daily chores like a shadow. I visited my mother and my grandmother. I had the same conversations. I would go to the tavern with Thomas, but most nights, I would cry in my bed.

I never wanted Liza, but I felt guilt over her death. I missed her in my home. She had been my closest friend. I hated this house more everyday. I felt trapped. That dream I'd had about heading south or across the ocean, became my obsession. When I became incapable of visiting my family, Thomas finally shook me back to my senses.

He told me I needed to go south. I should look for work. He would take care of my mother and our grandmother. He wanted me to go before I ended up in a creek, like Liza had. He was right and I agreed. In the spring of 1753 I left my mother and grandmother in his capable hands and with many tears I started to make my way south.

I made it to Sheffield. I needed coin, so I looked for work. There was a great deal of expansion going on in certain parts of the city, so I found work in building. Several of the men I worked alongside were also here just to work. We bunked together in a large canvas tent that summer and into the autumn.

One young man, by the name of Anthony, wanted to pleasure me. He made no secret about it when we were alone. I would let him suck my cock. I didn't even want to suck his. He was too passive. Too submissive.

That winter I worked for a farmer and I helped him slaughter his cattle and run his butchery until the spring. I could have stayed and worked for him. He paid well and the work was honest and plentiful, but coming home, covered in blood every night isn't what I'd dreamt about. So I gathered my savings and my belongings and I headed south again in the spring of 1754.

My next stop was in Leicester. I had twisted my knee right before I had arrived, so I decided to stay here for a while instead of traveling further for now. I got work at the stables of a large inn. I kept to myself mostly, as the people around me changed quickly and often. I felt like a stranger here. I couldn't warm up to people that quickly.

The one thing about this new solitary life that

I found improved compared to before, was men, passing through the inn, were often looking for something different for the night. I took my fill of their darkest desires.

I found ways to approach the interested men, that clearly showed my sexual submissiveness. Most men felt better about using a man if they could be the conqueror. They would willing use a man, where they wouldn't willingly be used by a man. That worked to my advantage as I wanted to be used. Always.

I sucked many cocks. I took nearly as many cocks inside me. Some were tender, which I didn't want, but I still came off. Most were demanding, demeaning and verbally abusive and occasionally physically abusive. I was a large enough man that I could fight someone off if they tried to actually hurt me, not sexually. It turned violent a few times. I got beaten pretty badly on several rare occasions.

One night my companion had used my mouth, roughly. He had called me names and slapped me around. I was enjoying all of it. But after he had another drink he got angry. He must have felt ashamed or something and he was going to take it out on me. We were nearly the same size but he assumed I was a submissive man in all ways. I'm submissive sexually, but in no other way.

We fought until we were both bloodied. He flagged first and I beat him senseless once I got the upper hand. I decided it was time to head south again. I didn't want to stay and see if trouble would find me again in Leicester.

That winter, just as the new year began, I found myself in London. I had been so excited about seeing London. It was massive and awe-inspiring. And after a month, I hated it. It was loud and filthy and no one was what they seemed. For the first time I was homesick for the border. I missed my family. So as the spring of 1755 bloomed, I headed north, to Silverton.

I arrived to find my family much as I left them, just a few years older. I had been away for a little over two years. I was a changed man. I was quieter, more introverted. I was stronger and larger, while feeling smaller somehow.

Within a year, I felt trapped again and even worse, I felt I didn't fit in anywhere. I felt lost in my own hometown. The adventure I had taken wasn't what I hoped for. I felt lonely all the time.

I knew I wanted a companion. I wanted something between Liza, Eric and several of the strangers I'd met along the way. I wouldn't take another wife. I couldn't take a male lover here in Silverton. Our community was too small, too nosey. I found myself traveling to distant villages, seeking this unnamed object of my heart's desire. I found a stranger to use me on occasion, but nothing more.

I started to resign myself to a life of wanting. Sadness and unfulfilled desires. In the summer of 1757 my mother passed. She had a tumor that had caused her to waste away. Her death ended her suffering and intensified mine. My grandmother moved in with Thomas and his family. I was living in my mother's house, alone.

I was 28 and I was miserable. I made others miserable with my presence. Thomas worried about me, like he had before. Again, he encouraged me to travel south. He suggested I try to make it all the way to Cornwall. Fulfill my goal. He thought that might be the key. Head to the colonies, if I still felt restless after I made the coast. So, that is what I set out to do.

At the end of winter, early in 1758, I set out for Cornwall. Nothing would stop me until I got there. I would work as needed, but always with the goal of reaching the end of the journey at the end of the country. My trip would not end until I reached the end.

March 1758

The weather was bad. The rain had started and I just couldn't stand the thought of staying cold and wet any longer. I stopped at an inn in Nottinghamshire. I would warm myself by their hearth, I'd eat a hot meal and drink a few ales. They had no rooms available, but I couldn't afford that luxury anyway. I would sit in the tavern room until I was dry or until they asked me to leave.

There were locals gambling near the fire. A father and son ate their supper and laughed with each other. The tavern girl flirted with the son, he was beautiful, so I wasn't surprised. She thought to flirt with me, but I scowled at her until she dropped that idea.

The young man's father told him goodnight and headed to his room. He had called the beautiful young man Henry. After his father left, the server nearly climbed into Henry's lap. I watched him. I assumed he would take what was offered. The serving girl was lush and comely. She could probably convince any traveller to join her.

Henry sent her away. She looked shocked as I watched it play out. Maybe he was a loyal husband. Maybe he was sharing the room with his father, so he couldn't bring the girl back to his bed. I watched and tried to figure it out. What was unquestionable, was the fact that Henry was incredible to look at and my body hardened as I watched him.

The serving girl busied herself with a new patron, who looked wealthy. Henry noticed me watching him so I looked down at my ale and tried to disappear into the shadows.

Then, he spoke to me. I couldn't understand what he was saying because his voice was so eerily familiar. I had never met this beautiful man, but my mind was convinced I'd always known him.

He was nothing like the men I usually sought out. He was young, maybe eighteen or nineteen. He looked like a cherub. He had dark curls that floated around his gorgeous face. His smile was life changing. In the dark tavern, his eyes looked like gems. I could see golden flashes as he moved about. He was smaller than me, quite a bit so. He looked like an innocent child just becoming a man. And then he spoke again.

"Which way are you headed?" His voice caused a fire to erupt in my stomach and it spread into my balls. I wanted to answer him, just to hear him speak again, but I didn't trust myself. I was frozen looking down at my drink. He must have decided I was ignoring him because I saw him search the room with his sparkling eyes.

After a few more moments he stood and stretched his arms over his head and yawned. He looked like a cat. His eyes were green and gold, I could see. He reminded me of a lithe, sleek cat stretching with satisfaction after a big meal. I wanted to be his meal. I wanted this beautiful man to use me. As he turned to walk away, I couldn't keep my eyes off him. He met my eyes and nodded at me and walked away. It was the sign I needed, and I followed him.

He didn't know I was behind him. He jumped when he noticed me. He was at his door and he turned and stared at me. He looked scared and bold. I just stood, leaning against the wall in the hallway. I wouldn't move closer. I didn't want him to be afraid. More than anything I wanted him to want me and not fear me. I wondered again if his father was behind that door. He seemed to relax and he leaned against his door and the look on his face made my heart leap in my chest.

His eyes were black with need. His mouth parted slightly and I couldn't help but smirk at his sexy look. I straightened and stood tall and he seemed mesmerized so I moved closer and closer still. I was so close, I could hear his breathing change as we came chest to chest. I looked down into his face and I wanted him so badly.

"Do you want to come in?" I had never wanted anything more in my life. I quickly processed that he must be alone in this room and I nodded more to myself, but he took that as my answer, which it was also that.

He turned to unlock the door and he brushed against me lightly. My whole body erupted into want and need. I had no idea if he could dominate me, but I almost didn't care. It felt so unusual to be so attracted to such an unknown. But I wanted Henry, in any way I could have him.That realization washed over me as he opened the door and I followed him inside. I closed the door behind us and the room felt warm and comfortable.

"I'm Henry." I let his voice saying his own name wash over me.

"I know." I said it dumbly. Before he could think about it too much I continued. "I heard your father call you that." I tried not to act nervous so I casually took off my cloak and my hat.

"He's my cousin." He was staring at me as he said it.

I looked about and noticed the large fireplace, with a perfectly built fire within. The painting that hung above it was so covered in smoke tar, I couldn't tell what it was. My eyes fell on the bed. My mind raced and my body thrummed.

It struck me again how completely exquisite he was. I started to worry he would ask me to leave so I absentmindedly started to undo my buttons. I motioned that he should do the same, anything to get him to stop staring. He stepped towards me instead and touched my chest. My mind froze. He was so close, touching me. He smelled like a summer's day, in the middle of this dirty room, in the wet, cold winter that surrounded us.

He pushed my coat off my shoulders. He was standing so close. I wanted him to stay close. I tried to introduce myself but I only got out one word. "William."

He repeated it back to me, seeming to understand the introduction despite the lack of words. "William?" He tested it, like he was tasting it. It was erotic.

He reached for my shift as if to pull it out of my breeches. I wanted to undress him. I wanted to please him. I caught his soft hands in mine and stilled them. He dropped them back to his sides. I reached out to unbutton his shirt, and I looked at his beautiful face. He nodded at me, giving me permission to keep going, so I did. I worked until he stood before me bare from the waist up.

I noticed he was rigid beneath his pants. I brushed my hand over his massive erection. It looked very large against his smaller body size. That excited me and I just stood and savored the vision he was, standing here in front of me.

He reached for his belt and as he undid it, I automatically did the same. I watched him fully undress for me and somehow I had undressed myself completely at the same time. He looked at me with such lust that I couldn't move. I was so erect that my tip leaked with my excitement. His body was glorious. He looked so soft but his cock was huge and standing tall and proud.

He reached out and put his hands on my chest. I wanted to fulfill his every need in that moment. "Tell me what to do." I said it and I meant it. I would do anything he asked of me. He smiled at me then and I was lost.

"Lay back on the bed." He had said it so firmly, it made my body ache. If he really did command me tonight, I would probably die of pleasure. I smiled at him, I couldn't help it. I was so excited and happy. I quickly climbed onto the bed and lay in the middle, relaxing as much as I could. He started to come towards me and my erection strained as I watched. I touched his leg to make sure he was real.