The Art of Bathing

"You don't have much hair in your body, do you?" the nobleman comments, breaths coming out in short huffs.

It's another sore topic for Timothy. He flushes, embarrassed at the fact. "No, sire."

The nobleman hums once more. He cups water into his palm and spills it over Timothy's shoulder, washing the soap away. He flicks another nipple, and then circles it with his thumb to remove the soap. Timothy flinches but figures the soap will truly be thoroughly wiped away with the gesture. The nobleman's other hand slithers from Timothy's thigh to one arse cheek.

"You know that men can't get pregnant, don't you?" the nobleman asks, arching one blond brow while a smile dances on his thin lips.

Timothy sagely nods. "Of course not, sire."

The nobleman nods along. "So have you practiced kissing with other men?"

"What?" Timothy gives the nobleman a wide-eyed stared. "No! Why would I do that, sire?"

The nobleman looks shocked. "You haven't?" He grabs a palmful of flesh of the servant's arse, squeezes, and wiggles it slightly. Timothy shifts uncomfortably at the action. "Men do it all the time to practice. So when it's time to impregnate a girl, they would know how to do it properly."

"Oh." That makes sense. Timothy hasn't thought of that. "I — I suppose I haven't practiced at all, sire," he admits. Unmarried and unpracticed at twenty summers!

"That's unfortunate." The nobleman appears thoughtful. "Hmm, how about practicing right now then? With me?"

"You would do that for me, sire?" Timothy has never met a kinder nobleman.

The nobleman chuckles. "Of course, I'm very generous. Here, let's start." The nobleman's large fingers slip behind Timothy's head, caressing his curls. "Just follow my lead. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out."

Timothy does so eagerly, letting his jaw drop and poking his tongue out. The nobleman roughly tugs the servant's head forward and smashes their mouths together. The nobleman's tongue plunders Timothy's unguarded mouth, and the servant squeaks in surprise. The nobleman's free hand snakes around Timothy's waist and hauls him flush against the man's hard body. Timothy has to place his palms flat on the nobleman's pecs to maintain his balance.

The nobleman moves his lips against Timothy's, brushing the sensitive flesh together. The nobleman's hips grind towards Timothy's crotch, trapping his cock further into the servant's arse cheeks and pinning Timothy's against the hard lines of his stomach. The nobleman groans rumbly into the kiss, and, with their mouths connected, Timothy swallows the sound.

So this is kissing? Timothy's head is spinning from it, his eyes fluttering close against his will. The nobleman nips Timothy's lower lip, and frantically caresses the servant's tongue with his. A strange feeling pools at the base of Timothy's stomach as the ministrations continue. To his confusion and mortification, his own cock swells painfully in the middle of the kiss.

The nobleman finally pulls back with a hand still cradling Timothy's head, their lips parting with a wet sound. "Fuck, your face," he breathes out.

Timothy doesn't know what his face is doing but it's probably nothing good. "I— I think I've— I'm getting sick, sire." Nausea rolls at the base of his stomach, and an abrupt fever heats his cheeks. His cock is still achingly enlarging. "I — I need — a cold towel—"

"I know of another remedy," the nobleman claims, eyes trained solely on Timothy's face. "Allow me to help you."

Without waiting for an answer, the nobleman encircles a broad hand around Timothy's cock, the hand engulfing it entirely.

Timothy hisses, trying to pull away. "Sire, that — that hurts."

The nobleman's grip around the servant's waist doesn't allow Timothy to get away. "It only hurts at the start. It'll feel better, I promise." The nobleman begins tugging at Timothy's cock, moving the circle his fingers formed across the length. "This remedy requires giving the cock some pressure, some friction. See the back and forth motion?" Timothy nods, listening to the teaching avidly, eager to always learn more. "Just squeeze a little bit and pump it."

To Timothy's astonishment, the pain does dissipate, and it feels better. In fact, "It — It feels good, sire." Timothy shivers, the feeling in his stomach swiftly transforming from sickening nausea to unbridled pleasure. "Ah, hah, ah." He swallows, saliva thickening for some unknown reason. His back spasms as trills of bliss shoots along his spine.

What is this? Timothy has never encountered the cresting feeling before. It's like eating sweetened cocoa but even better! The food is heaven in his mouth, but this feeling is like heaven wracking his whole body. Unconsciously, he thrusts into the nobleman's hand in quick short movements. His breathing grows irregular, as if he had run from one end of the castle to the other.

"That's it, that it," the nobleman croons, his own cock gaining friction from Timothy's frantic motions. He nibbles Timothy's ear and lets his tongue sweep along its inner shell.

"Ah, my ear —" The nobleman thumbs the slit on Timothy's cock, and the servant cries out as his pleasure increases. "Uh! Ah, ahn, hah, ah."

"You sound like a fucking whore," the nobleman says with a deep chuckle.

"Wh — ah, ahn — What's a whore?" Timothy manages to ask in between gasps.

The nobleman speeds up his movements, humming thoughtfully. Timothy keens. "Other people would use it as an insult but it's a compliment. A whore is someone who makes people feel good."

Oh. Timothy has never made anyone feel good before. It's probably why he's only hearing the word now. He has tried not to be a burden to his father, but he knows his father is still having a hard time even with his help on the farm. He's glad this nobleman thinks of him as someone useful, even if they've only met. "Th— ahn — Thank you, s—sire."

The nobleman laughs lowly. "Oh, whore, it's no problem."

Then, Timothy feels a familiar pressure builds inside his cock. His balls tighten. Oh no, not good. He starts heaving himself away, but the nobleman's hold is unyielding. "Sire, I— I need to pee! I'm going to — No— ah, hah! Ahhh ~"

It's too late. His cock spurts out. However, instead of pee, strings of viscous liquid shot out of his slit, painting the water between them ropes of white. The nobleman releases the servant's cock and grins smugly.

"Wha — What?" Timothy pants out, staring at the cream-white substance in confusion. He palms a part of it before it could disperse and lifts it out of the water. It feels slimy and sticky between his fingers. "What is it?" It came out of his body!

"You — You're unbelievable." The nobleman laughs boisterously, Timothy's body shaking with him. The nobleman explains, "That's cum. It comes out of a man's body when they feel really good." He pauses before adding, "It's not very filling but it's actually very nutritious. It can even cure some sickness."

Timothy stares at the streak of white on his palm with wonder. His body can produce some type of medicine?

"Taste it, go on," the nobleman encourages, placing his hands back on Timothy's hips.

Timothy brings his palm to his mouth and licks it. He smacks his lips, savoring the taste.

"Fuck, that's hot." The nobleman grinds against him again but Timothy is too busy to notice.

Cum tastes bitter, and not at all delicious. But Timothy guesses that all medicine is supposed to taste that way. He licks his hand again for another taste, and the nobleman growls, hips thrusting again. Timothy thinks he can get used to the taste though, seeing as it's practically free medicine.

"You said you were feeling sick earlier, right?" the nobleman reminds him gently. "Maybe you need more cum. Just to make sure you don't get too sick."

Timothy doesn't feel that nauseous any longer but he still does feel strange. He can't afford to get the slightest bit sick; a day's loss of work is one day less of a salary. "You're right, sire. Just in case." Timothy looks down but all his cum has disappeared into the water.

He reaches for his cock to produce more but the nobleman grabs his wrist before he could touch it. "You can have mine."

Timothy's eyes widen. "Are you sure, sire? What about you?"

"I'm as healthy as I can be. You look like you need it more," the nobleman replies with a benevolent smile. This nobleman truly is generous, Timothy thinks. "Let me get into a more proper position for you to swallow my cum."

Timothy scoots away from the nobleman's lap, allowing the man to raise himself up on the edge of the spring. The nobleman seats himself at the precipice, only half of his legs and both his feet submerged in the water still. Timothy remains kneeling on the protruded rock in the spring, his face now on level with nobleman's still engorged cock.

Timothy can't believe the man can still endure the pain of the swelling. Truly an admirable nobleman!

"Make me feel good, whore," the nobleman commands, holding the base of his large cock and pointing it to Timothy's lips. "Open your mouth wide."

"My mouth?" Timothy leans away, shocked.

"We need to make sure you swallow each drop of cum, all right?" the nobleman replies, sounding irritated. "And the swelling is really painful for me now. Come and help remedy it. Do what I did to your cock. Take my cock back and forth with your mouth."

"Bu—But you use that to pee!" Timothy protests, disgusted.

"I cleaned it. We're in the baths, aren't we?" the nobleman counters succinctly. He grabs a fistful of Timothy's dark hair and attempts to yank the servant's face closer. "Come now and swallow my cock."

The purpling and weeping cockhead rubs against the soft flesh of Timothy's cheek as he resists the pull. "You won't pee in my mouth, sire?" the servant asks, brown eyes looking up at the nobleman.

"Only cum," the nobleman promises, voice gruff.

Timothy supposes the nobleman has done nothing so far to warrant his suspicion. Besides, noblemans are men of honor; they always keep their word.

The servant grasps the cock in front of him, and his slender finger can't even fully wrap around it! Timothy mouths the cockhead, testing if it can really fit in his mouth. The cock throbs and throbs as Timothy widens his mouth, and finally pops the cockhead inside. Timothy can take it. He puts his hands on the nobleman's inner thighs and focuses on taking the cock inch by inch.

"Don't let me feel your teeth," the nobleman warns. Timothy complies, letting his jaw open some more. With the hand still fisted in Timothy's curls, the nobleman rams his cock deeper into the servant's mouth, groaning and moaning. "Oh, fuuuck. Fuck, you slut."

Oh, the nobleman sounds like he's in pain! Timothy immediately feels guilty; the nobleman had made sure Timothy felt good earlier, even teaching him another method to remedy an enlarged cock. Now, Timothy is screwing it up when reciprocating. To compensate, Timothy braces himself and lunges forward to swallow the cock up to its base in one swift movement.

"Oh fuck yes! Take my cock!" the nobleman cries out. "So warm and wet, like a proper whore."

Timothy preens at that praise. The cock settles deep and heavy in his throat, saliva dripping liberally from his open mouth because he can no longer swallow it. The cock blocks Timothy's airways completely but he has been born with strong lungs. He can hold his breath for several minutes. The servant places a hand to his throat, rubbing the visible bulge right under his Adam's apple. It truly is big! It must have swelled so much. His jaw aches slightly because of its size.

"So good," the nobleman gasps out. His blue eyes stare down at Timothy with awe "You — You don't have a gag reflex?"

Timothy looks up at the nobleman's flushed face and shakes his head in reply. Years of inhaling food instead of chewing them has trained it out of him. He can't be blamed for his voraciousness. Food, when it comes, comes rarely.

The nobleman's calloused hand tenderly caresses Timothy's cheek. "Such a good whore. Look at you. Your lips are meant to wrap around my fat cock."

Timothy preens again at another compliment. He yanks his head back until only the tip of the nobleman's cock is in his mouth. Then, he slams forward again, taking it all in. He repeats the motion, bobbing his head and already tasting cum leaking from the nobleman's slit.

The nobleman puffs out ragged breaths, helping the servant thrust in and out through the broad hand on Timothy's hair. The nobleman begins instructing the servant, and further enhances his knowledge. "Suck on it. Like sucking fruit juices. Yes, like that." The sounds of schlurp, schlurp, schlurp echoes in the cavern. "Lick the slit, bitch. Yeah, get the cum in there. Lift your eyes to me." Timothy looks up again, taking in the nobleman's pleasure-ridden expression and the blond hair plastered to his furrowed forehead. His blue eyes meet Timothy's brown ones. "Keep looking at me. I want to clearly see those cocksucking lips of yours drag over my cock."

After carefully following the instructions for several moments, the nobleman begins heaping praises upon Timothy. "That it, ahh, ngh, that's right, my little cumbucket. Ngh ngh. Take me deep. Shove that cock deep into your whore mouth! Such a perfect little fucktoy. Your mouth is made for sucking cock. Just like that, yes, yes."

Cumbucket? Timothy supposes, since he wanted to take in the cum, he is like a bucket. Fucktoy? The servant knows 'fuck' is an expletive, but he doesn't know what those combination of words means. He will ask the nobleman as soon as the other man finishes giving him cum.

"Oh, fuck, I'm close."

Both of the nobleman's hands take a fistful of Timothy's locks and force the servant's head to bob faster. Timothy ceases moving himself, letting the hands move him. The pace becomes brutal and fast, unrhythmic. The nobleman's balls slap against Timothy's chin, and his pubic hair tickles the servant's nose on every thrust. Timothy barely takes a breath before the cock is back on his throat, blocking his airways. Tears form in his eyes as he begins to choke.

"That's right, choke on my fat cock." The nobleman grins, chest heaving.

Oh, perhaps choking is a part of it. Timothy will endure it if it will make the cum come faster. The cock in his mouth grows impossibly bigger, almost cracking Timothy's jaw.

The nobleman growls, burying Timothy's face in his groin and keeping it there. "Here I go! Take my cum, you fucking whore! Take it all!"

The cock throbs one reverberating beat before warm wetness spurts at the back of Timothy's throat. Timothy sees only the whites of the nobleman's eyes as they roll to the back of his skull. The nobleman's mouth is wide open, soundless, and his whole body is stiff as cum still gushes into Timothy's mouth. The cum is much more that what Timothy released earlier! Does the increase of swelling also increase the amount of cum?

Timothy greedily swallows it as commanded, gulping around the cock softening in his throat. The nobleman groans, and sighs in pleasure.

The nobleman releases his hold on Timothy's hair, and Timothy drags himself back. The flaccid cock, whose size astonishingly doesn't differ much from when it's engorged, flops out of Timothy's mouth with a wet pop. Timothy licks his lips, frowning at the taste of cum but knowing there's no chance he's getting sick now. He has drunk so much cum, after all.

"Thank you, sire," Timothy says, smiling up at the nobleman.

The nobleman chuckles, thumbing Timothy's wet and bruised lips. "That was the best orgasm I've had in a while. So I'm grateful to you too."

Timothy blinks up at him at another unfamiliar word. "What is an orgasm?"

"It's the act of feeling so good that you spurt out cum. Like I did. Like you did," the nobleman informs him patiently.

Timothy nods, feeling very well informed about important matters in the last hour.

"How about we finish cleaning you up?" the nobleman offers once more.

Timothy is glad for the offer but "I don't have any more soap."

"I can just rub you all around with my hands," the nobleman says with a grin, swiping his blond hair away from his forehead. "It should still clean you up."

Timothy supposses that's true. He accepts the offer without hesitation. He's feeling a bit tired, the day's tiring chores catching up to him. Moving as little as possible will be a boon. The nobleman goes back into the water, seating himself back on the conveniently protruding stone and gestures for Timothy to go onto his lap again. Timothy complies, not hesitating to place his arse flat on the man's thighs this time. The nobleman's soft cock traps itself into the crease of the servant's arse cheeks but Timothy knows he's not hurting the man now.

The nobleman cleans his torso, scraping callused and scarred palms over the expanse of Timothy's back. The nobleman also rubs from his thighs to his feet, tickling the back of Timothy's legs on the way. Timothy lets out small giggles from his resting position on the nobleman's chest. The nobleman really is filled with hard-packed muscles, and Timothy is utterly envious.

After scrubbing the soles of Timothy's feet, the hands clutch each of Timothy's arse cheeks, and massage them in circular motions. The hands spread his cheeks apart, and then press them together, wiggling them a tad. The hands draw them apart again and then squeeze them together. The nobleman's cock, still wedged between the servant's arse cheeks, twitches. The nobleman presses the arse cheeks together over the trapped cock and drags the fleshy parts over the length of it.

The nobleman begins rocking forward as he massages Timothy's arse. The rhythmic motion makes the servant sleepier, feeling akin to a babe being rocked to sleep. The nobleman's breathing grows ragged once more, blowing puffs of air right into Timothy's ear.

Absently, Timothy notes that the nobleman's cock is swelling again, hardening and throbbing against his arse. He blinks himself awake, wondering if he should offer a cold towel now. The remedy they did seems to only work for a short time.

When the cock has fully enlarged to its previous size, the nobleman slips a finger between Timothy's arse cheeks and circled his hole.

Timothy bristles, sitting up attempting to shift away, slightly more awake. "Sire, that —"

"Don't tell me; you don't clean here?" The nobleman looks at him with shock and accusation.

Timothy flushes, feeling like he did something wrong even though he has no clue as to what. "I do, of course, sire!" he replies defensively. "But I'll do it myself. It—You've already done so much, sire." That's right; all Timothy has done is lay down while the nobleman did all the washing up for him.

"I mind not," the nobleman answers with another disarming smile. He jabs the tip of his thick finger into Timothy's hole, making the servant gasp at unexpected action. "We need to clean this place. Do you even clean it thoroughly?"

Timothy shifts, feeling his hole burn sharply with the finger's penetration. "I— I didn't know I needed to clean it inside. Does it need to be, sire?"

"Of course," the nobleman replies as if the answer is obvious. "We need to do it now. You haven't been cleaning it properly and you might get sick. You don't want to get sick, don't you?" Timothy shakes his head and then whimpers when the finger slides an inch deeper. "I'll be sure to carefully clean it for you."

Timothy bites his lip. "If — If you think it needs to be cleaned, sire, I shall do my best to endure it."

"Good whore." Timothy looks at the nobleman's pleased expression and feels a bit braver.

The nobleman is clearly teaching him something valuable. Timothy is glad the nobleman deems him worthy enough to learn it.

The finger digs another inch inside, and Timothy winces.