The Finder

"You have reached your destination" my female sat nav assistant confidently told me as I inched toward the towering wrought iron gates, leaning out and punching in the key code the gothic style gates groaned as they began to swing inward begrudgingly allowing my access.

Ravens squarked and flew overhead, I wouldn't be surprised if the place had featured in a Hammer House of Horror film, but my god it was impressive.

The young couple who followed me in their bling Range Rover are my prospective buyers, they are in rented with an obscene amount of money ready to be spent on the right property and I was sure this one ticked all the boxes.

The drive coiled around the mansion house and when it finally came into view I was hoping they would be stopped in their tracks.

Exiting the car my brown brogues crunched on the gravel drive as I neared the impressive oak front door with its elaborate gothic work iron strap hinges, looking up I scanned the Victorian red brick facade, a truly impressive country house with so much character it seemed to seep from the mullioned windows.

I turned and saw that my buyers were rooted to the spot gawping at the country pile in front of them.

"Fuck me" the husband muttered then called over "Hey David you're sure this is in our price range."

I was here to meet Crispin Fitzroy a local legend in country real estate, if it wasn't worth a few million he definitely wasn't your man.

And I was here to possibly be of a more personal service..... if I chose to.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, let me explain how I got to be here in the first place.

.................................................

I am David, a six foot English blond haired blue eyed sort of gentleman who tries to keep in good shape, a moderately successful property dealer and entrepreneur, now in my early fifties and single.

I live comfortably enough with a healthy rental portfolio, I have a nice car, wear classic British tailoring and enjoy a busy social life. I have "interviewed" a few ladies over the years but after a couple of messy divorces my interest has waned, basically I am happy with my lot.

The past decade have seen my sexual interactions controlled by my own hand and I have often strayed into more, lets say "unusual" porn content. Anyway enough about my sexual orientation for the time being.

A few years ago I was introduced to the world of property "finders" who have a little black book of high net worth clients looking for their dream home, they are invariably city dwellers with no free time looking to escape into the country with the wife or husband and 2.4 children, usually named Tabitha, Hugo or Mercedes for the nouveau riche.

They give me a criteria, number of bedrooms, distance to a mainline train station, a paddock for the pony perhaps, you get the drift. But the best bit is no financial outlay for yours truly and when the deal is sealed I receive a nice 0.75%, wait I hear you say that's a meagre sum, well do the maths on two million and it's a very happy day indeed.

But of course you need an inside man, someone who can get you in the door before the manor goes on the market, I have a few but none like Mr Crispin Fitzroy.

Where do I start? Eton educated, born into old money and guaranteed an easy passage through life, used to dealing with the higher echelon of society, he's probably related to most of them.

Usually pin stripe suited in town or in country greens when aiming his grandfathers Purdy shotgun at some poor unsuspecting pheasant at the weekend, like Prince Andrew you never see him sweat.

He is now late fifties tall and slim with an androgynous look, wavy raven black hair, greying at the temples and a million watt smile, effortlessly charming and witty, a must have at any social event.

Then why does C Fitzroy Esq currently use me as his finder, a local boy done well type when he is surrounded by fawning males and females.

Let's rewind a couple of months and I am at a boring society fund raiser slowly edging toward the exit when the afore mentioned Fitzroy homed in on me like a heat seeking missile.

He stuck out his arm offering a perfectly manicured hand, "David yes?"

"Yes" gobsmacked that he knew my name even that I existed, I took his hand and we shook.

Now I don't know about you but if I meet a guy for the first time the handshake is firm, not bone crushing but assertive but his was warm, almost seductive and lingered perhaps a tad too long.

He gazed into my eyes and I felt my soul kind of melting and melding into his.

He finally spoke "Lovely to meet you at last, let's go somewhere more intimate and talk business."

Intimate, I thought that a strange word but hey Mr Crispin Fucking Fitzroy knows my name and he wants to talk business, bring it on.

We wandered outside and strolled down the extensive grounds until a small gazebo came into view, it looked out over a beautiful lake, moorhens croaked and buzzards whistled overhead.

"Perfect, don't you think?", he asked, I nodded and he sat patting the seat next to him.

He pulled a silver hip flask from an inside pocket, unscrewed the chain held cap and took a long swig then offered me the flask, I sat and took a large pull, It was good single malt and warmed my body and soul.

"So Mr David I hear you have a killer black book, one that I would be very interested in."

"Mr Fitzroy" he raised his arm "Please Crispin to you no need for formalities."

We talked business and houses for a while and I began to feel at ease with his easy charm and wit. Frequently we fell about laughing recalling old acquaintances, epic deals and epic failures.

He sighed and took another hit from the flask then pulled two cigars from another pocket, lit both and handed me one. He took a deep pull from the cigar and exhaled, the smoke billowed around in the evening breeze. I studied the side of his face, the strong jawline, his elegant long neck it all smacked of nobility. He quickly turned and held my gaze and I saw perhaps a hint of sadness in his ash coloured eyes, for the first time I sensed a degree of vulnerability.

When he finally spoke it was quieter, not so self assured "David I am hoping that I see something in you that possibly could be of interest to both of us, a kindred spirit perhaps, one that could umm.....possibly get better acquainted with, perhaps occasionally grace me with some personal attention, special favour if you will."

"A special favour " the phrase spun in my head.

His hand suddenly snaked over and was on my thigh, he squeezed my leg. His warm hand travelled toward my crotch which involuntarily inflated my cock which he instantly noticed.

"Mmmmmm....it certainly looks as though you're up for the challenge," he purred "I think you have all the necessary tools." And as the back of his hand lightly rubbed my erection he leant in closer, I felt his hot breath on my ear "don't worry about a lack of experience I'm sure you're a quick learner and I'm certainly a good teacher."

"Let's talk tomorrow" and he stood and was gone leaving me flushed and very hard.

Mr Fitzroy had just propositioned me in more ways than one.

Now tell me you've never had a gay fantasy wank and I'll call you a liar.

He was certainly asking but I didn't know if I was offering, however my unruly cock seemed to disagree with my brain.

I drove home in utter confusion, probably very badly, I fumbled with my keys and finally slammed the door shut and to my embarrassment dropped my trousers and underwear sat and began a slow sensual wank. I closed my eyes and considered the earlier exchange, I began to picture Crispin naked with my cock in his mouth or on all fours as I took him hard from behind, I was losing my shit here but before I could replace the image with the busty barmaid from the local pub my cock spewed its load over my hand.

Fuck, what a mess, literally.

I woke late the next day and groggily sat coffee in hand in front of my laptop, opened the messenger and saw that I had a new email, and yes it was from Crispin.

My hand shook as I clicked.

"David,

Good Morning, firstly if I came on a little strong yesterday and caused offence then sincere apologies. If I misjudged the situation I hope we can move on and continue in a cordial professional manner.

On the other hand if I aroused any interest through my clumsy actions then perhaps we could explore these further, I can assure you of my complete discretion in all matters."

I continued to read as the note took on a more business like tone, the nuts and bolts was that I would receive 1% commission on any deals done and then thumbnails of an available property which I may have a buyer for, the price? A cool three million.

But then came the catch.

"Boarding school left me with some very unusual interests which, I'll be frankly honest, have been extremely difficult to satisfactorily pursue, it's difficult to find others with these special interests.

Cutting to the chase dear boy is that after each extremely financial rewarding deal I expect you to help me with these activities, the first time you no longer wish to will be our last business venture together."

I opened the images and holy fuck what a property, he listed all the facts and figures then signed off "Crispin x."

Christ this was blackmail surely, but I reasoned that I could do this deal, walk away thirty grand richer and be done with it.

Picking up my phone I scrolled through and found the entry I needed, hit call and waited.

............................................................

So that dear reader brings us back to the present day standing in front of the magnificent property with my clients who seemed quite excited to say the least. I assured them that yes it was within their budget, opened the imposing door and walked into the future.

The viewing went like a breeze, it certainly ticked all the boxes, each room we entered was met by a mild expletive or quiet gasp. The huge master bedroom with the view of the lawn and lake had them gazing from the full windows for at least ten minutes and when we returned after a brief tour of the grounds and annexe I was sure I had them where I needed them.

"And that" I concluded with a flourish "is about it, if you want to talk regarding possibly purchasing the property the vendors agent should be waiting for us in the kitchen."

They both retreated and with heads bowed started an earnest discussion which made it painfully clear that at this point in time Mrs wanted the house probably more than she wanted her husband.

Early in my career an older colleague said to me "Husbands don't buy houses, wives do."

Returning to me with a nod I led them through to the pre arranged meeting spot, looking immaculate as ever stood Crispin with an opened bottle of Bollinger and four cut glass flutes.

"Crispin, may I introduce Rupert and Camilla."

He stood and beamed his trademark smile, approached and warmly shook hands.

"Please come and sit, tell me what you think of the place."

As he expertly poured the drinks Camilla enthused over the merits of the house as her husband shifted uncomfortably in his seat until he couldn't stay silent any longer.

"How much?" he barked at Crispin, he really was a rude prick.

Crispin's demeanour suddenly changed, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the paperwork in front of him.

Slowly he lifted his head and began.

"Sir, the house goes on the market with a local agent on Monday priced at 3.4 million, I am reliably informed that they have three or four extremely interested parties all in very sound financial positions. Today is Thursday and it is my task to find a cash buyer, if possible, prior to midnight on Sunday to avoid the extra estate agency costs and hassle that this entails."

His words were hitting Rupert like machine gun bullets almost pushing him back in his seat.

"My clients frankly don't need this headache or the extra money for that matter, they are currently in Bermuda where they intend to stay. They have kindly had a complete and thorough survey done which will be made available when a non refundable deposit of ten percent is deposited into my client account but I can assure you that the only negative on the report is a few broken roof tiles and leaking plumbing in the tack room. You can be assured of this, I am a gentleman and my word is my bond. Furthermore David here kindly let you in the door first and I am aware that he also has other interested parties."

He looked over to me and I nodded my assent, the assault continued.

"All things considered you are a very lucky man to have the privilege of being offered this wonderful country house first, you may have the property for 3.2 million, right here, right now, all I need is your signature here." He pointed at a blank space on the paperwork with the nib of his gold Dunhill.

"I'll offer three." Came the curt response.

Crispin, rose to his feet and began to gather the paperwork. "Will you show the delightful couple to the door please David, I think we are done here for today."

If looks could kill his wife could have taken his head clean off from 100 yards, he really didn't know who he was dealing with, he threw his hands in the air and with an exasperated sigh mumbled something incoherent.

"Sorry did you address me sir?" Crispin's retort so dripping with contempt in my minds eye it formed a small puddle on the floor.

"Ok, ok, where do I sign" he mumbled, Camilla squealed and clapped like a circus seal, the deal was done.

We both stood at the threshold waving them goodbye and as the vulgar Range Rover finally disappeared behind the tall Privet I looked at Crispin and asked "I thought you said it was three not three point two?" He turned smiling "Two hundred grand is the extra payment if you're an obnoxious twat."

He grinned, then that smile, then we both burst out laughing, it was as much as I could do to keep standing, he threw his arms around me to steady my convulsing body, our faces were inches away from each other's and the laughter suddenly stopped, I felt his heart beating in his chest but mine was racing.

He coolly walked over to a marble console table, withdrew the gold pen and Coutts checkbook and began to write, with a flourish he signed the cheque and held out his hand.

"So, decisions decisions I suppose, take the thirty two grand and run........or we go back to that beautiful master bedroom and you get to see another pay day." He came closer until I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. "You have nothing to fear by the way, I can assure you that any pain will be inflicted on yours truly."

Pain? He hadn't mentioned anything remotely associated with physical violence, I began to get worried where this was leading.

"I have an idea" he murmured, "I'll go upstairs and prepare, give me ten minutes, if you're not there by then then I will assume you have left, no hard feelings." He turned and ascended the staircase.

I sat with my head in my hands, then paced around the hall my shoes clacking noisily on the parquet floor, it was the longest ten minutes I have ever endured, I approached the front door and reached for handle, then with a sigh turned and began my slow climb into the unknown feeling like a condemned man going to the gallows.

My shaking hand gripped the door knob and I twisted it open, the drapes were drawn and my eyes we're struggling to adjust to the gloom, then to one side he emerged and I gasped audibly.

Crispin walked toward me very masculine from the waist up with his tie and dress shirt on but from the waist down was a different story. He wore a black garter belt, black lace sheer knickers and sheer stockings. His legs were long and and elegant, he turned seductively and I admired his small tight arse through the panties and my cock twitched.

He casually removed his shirt and tie and they joined the heap of clothes nearby.

I should have turned and left but I didn't, my legs seemed unable to function as I stood and gawped at his slender frame, his chest had a dusting of hair, his waist was trim and boy did he have great legs which were accentuated by the sheer stockings, I had to admit he looked stunning.

He approached and began to slowly walk around me.

"Well you haven't run away or laughed at me so that's a good start," his voice was quiet and soft, I assumed it was to match his female persona. "To be clear you can do whatever you want to me, talk dirty to me, treat me like a slut. I like men to be hard, willing and most importantly to be in control, and yes I know what your probably thinking, your nervous perhaps worried that you don't know what to do, just park that shit outside the bedroom door and go with your instincts, let your inhibitions flow and I'll promise you the time of your life." He rubbed a finger over my lips and continued. "You see dear boy I crave cock, pussy doesn't do anything for me, I like to be used and abused, I want someone like you to service me on a regular basis, to kiss me, caress me, tell me how beautiful I look and then take me, make me theirs, call me bad names, I couldn't give a fuck, I just want unbridled raw.....passionate....man......sex."

As he got closer I noticed a trace of rouge on his plump lips and without warning kissed my mouth.

He took a pace back to gauge my reaction, I was stunned but aroused so I did the only decent thing, I kissed him back.

"Do you think I'm naughty?" He asked between kisses.

"Umm....yes." I stuttered.

"And what happens to naughty boys?"

"They.....err....get.....punished?"

I could see where this was leading.

"Exactly that, see I knew you were a quick learner, and how do they get punished dear boy?"

"They...... um......get.......spanked?"

"Yes, but as I have been so very very naughty dressing like this I will need a very hard spanking."

He slowly and seductively walked toward a Georgian dressing table and bent over pushing his panty clad arse up for some serious attention, and I had to admit it was turning me on.

From behind I could have sworn he was a woman apart from the ample ballsack encased in those alluring knickers.

"Remember I have been very very bad and need to be punished,"

I raised my hand and slapped his right cheek, he moaned with pleasure, I slapped his left cheek and I felt his tight glute shake. "Harder please" he panted. I alternated between each cheek slapping hard leaving red marks on his bottom. On each thwack his whole body shifted forward with the force of the blow. My hand was shaking as I raised it again and again, the sound of my palm on his flesh filled my senses.

He moaned loudly after each blow and urged me to slap him harder again and again.

"Crispin, for fucks sake that's enough" I was beginning to think I was going to inflict some serious harm if I carried on, his cheeks were bright red and he was whimpering, hopefully with pleasure.

My hand was resting on his left cheek and he began to wiggle his arse so I involuntarily caressed his flesh, I slipped my hand under the knicker elastic and stroked his hot arse cheek, my fingers found their way into his cleft and gently pressed against his hole, then travelled south and I cupped his balls feeling their weight and warmth.

And I was hard, so fucking hard it was beginning to hurt. He stood and faced me, a wicked grin on his face, his fully erect cock formed a tent in the sheer knickers, the bulbous mushroom head glistened with pre cum. He grabbed my tie and pulled me towards him and we kissed again our tongues sliding into each others warm wet mouths.

"You look a little overdressed" his voice hoarse as he unbuttoned my shirt, he rubbed his hands through the hair on my chest and kissed each nipple gently. I moaned with pleasure as he began to undress me and soon I was down to my briefs with an obvious erection straining for release.