Liaisons Ch. 02: What Led to That

And he needed the money. Creighton Hollings had gotten sloppy about where the two of them would meet for mediocre sex and they were caught doing it in the tutor's lodgings. Paul almost had to laugh, as what they were doing was far more tame than he had done with either the baron or Sir Kingsley. But someone had to pay for the transgression, and Hollings had backers in the tutor lodges—some of whom were sympathetic, as they were attempting to get away with the same behavior. Paul was ejected from Cambridge. He didn't inform his mother of the event. He answered a call from Kingsley and wound up working for a high-class male escort service in London, where he was making enough, when combined with his allowance, to make ends meet and still to save some money. He'd had just about enough of England and chaffed at his father's demand that he remain in England even while his father was paying him no attention whatsoever.

He rode home with the marquis, who took him into the mansion's library as his wife retired upstairs.

"Brandy?" the marquis asked, settling down in a wing chair by the fire.

"No, thank you," Paul answered, standing there by the fire, waiting for what he knew was coming.

"I want to see you—all of you," the marquis said in a throaty voice after the servant who delivered his brandy snifter had backed out of the room. "I have paid a large sum to see you naked—to use you naked."

"Slowly, slowly," he murmured as Paul undid the tie of his tuxedo and started to undress. He made a performance of it—nothing raunchy. It was all in good taste for royalty—as long as the royal was randy, which the marquis was. As Paul progressed from slipping off his shirt to lowering his trousers, the marquis had his fly open, his cock out, and was stroking it.

Naked, Paul went down on his knees between the marquis' spread thighs and serviced the man's cock until it was fully engorged. And then, upon whispered request, he sat on the cock, facing away from the marquis, with his thighs hung over the arms of the chair and, with his arms bent back and grasping the top of the wing chair back on either side of the marquis' head, raised and lowered his channel on the man's cock until the marquis had spouted his seed inside Paul's channel.

"You haven't come," the marquis said. "Please stretch out on the rug there in front of the fire, turned to me, and masturbate to completion."

Paul did so. The marquis signaled that the evening wasn't finished, though, by ringing for the manservant and having his brandy renewed. The manservant fulfilled his task without so much as a blush. He was young and good looking, so Paul assumed that he had his duties to perform with the marquis as well. He was dark-haired, though, and not as lithe as Paul—lower class than Paul obviously was. The escort service had revealed that the marquis was interested in variety. Paul had thought in terms of position, but perhaps it was more in terms of the young man's body.

"Well worth the price," the marquis whispered when the servant had left, "You are so sexy when you do that. Do it again, please. You can harden again, can't you?"

"Yes, certainly. As often as you want," Paul answered.

"I think, being able to watch your beautiful body on that rug, that I could too."

The marquis, still fully clothed, handed his own cock, working it hard again while Paul, giving the marquis a studied lust-filled gaze of his eyes, masturbated himself slowly and ejaculated in an arc over the fur rug. The marquis came down on the rug, nudging Paul onto his back and teasing his thighs open. Paul helpfully pressed his heels into the fur rug, raising his pelvis, and giving the marquis' cock a straight angle for his slide into Paul's passage. The marquis, fully clothed, embraced Paul, fully naked, close, both of them panting, only the marquis hips moving, slowly, as he fucked the young prostitute to another ejaculation.

One of the thrills of working for the escort service was the surprises it brought. The marquis, after returning to his chair and instructing Paul to lounge on the fur rug, wondering if the marquis would fuck him again, until both had recovered, provided one of those surprises.

"I believe it's time we went upstairs," the marquis said softly. "Mavis will be waiting."

And indeed she was. Paul had fucked young women before learning that he much preferred men—and he had to agree to do it on demand when he signed with the escort service. Thus, he was able to cover his surprise and encourage himself to harden again, as he was urged to approach the bed, where the marquis' lady was lying on her back, with her buttocks on the edge of the end of the bed, her legs spread, and her fingers working her clit and vagina.

She moaned as Paul lifted and spread her thighs further, slowly entered her, and began to pump. He, in turn, shuddered and jerked, as the marquis, still fully clothed, came in behind him, thrust up inside him, and took control of the fuck.