Devil's Deals

Chapter Four: The First Deal

The three young men were up, in the Sea Pearl, and out in the outer harbor, doing sail sprints from one end to the other, early the next morning. They raided the kitchen themselves for breakfast, no one else being up yet, and they all were dragging around as if they already were exhausted from exercise--which all three were.

They didn't stop to have sex during the morning sail. The wind was up and changing directions, which was good for their skills practice. But it was all they could manage to be able to manipulate the sails in the effort to beat their timing with each successive sweep of the harbor. They got back to The Rock in time only to shower and appear at lunch on the back porch.

The others were already seated when Hunter, Julio, and Rich arrived. There was a new guest, seated beside Susan--the New England Patriot team guard, Sonny Taggert. Howard Butler, seated at one end of the table, was massive. Taggert, seated to his right, overshadowed Butler in bulk, all of it pure, well-defined muscle. Susan looked as if she would melt in bubbling pleasure. At the end of the table opposite Howard, Alma reigned, cool as a cucumber and looking very pleased with herself. Rich was seated across from Taggert, and the two eyed each other wearily, signals of understanding exchanged between them. Taggert's look was unwavering, not unfriendly, but supremely confident. Rich acceded gracefully. He no longer needed Susan; he'd gone over her head. When it was apparent to Taggert that Rich wasn't going to be an adversary, his look changed to one of possible interest of a different nature. This wasn't lost on Rich.

Rich was initially surprised when he saw Taggert as he approached the table, but he was quick on the uptake, so he wasn't shocked. Now he knew what that urgent meeting between father and daughter last night had entailed--and the assured way in which Howard had come to him in the night. Howard had already arranged the change in the scenario.

"May I see you in the library after lunch, Rich?" Howard asked as they started to eat.

"Of course, Mr. Butler," Rich responded.

"And perhaps you could show Sonny around the place after we've eaten, Susan," the older man added.

"It would be my pleasure," Susan bubbled.

Of that I don't have the slightest doubt, Rich thought. He wasn't surprised that he didn't catch Susan looking in his direction throughout the meal. The conversation, of course, centered on professional football.

Taggert's table manners were impeccable. There wasn't a single misstep of etiquette or clumsiness by his broad, thick-fingered hands. Rich thought the young man's ringlets of blond hair draping to his shoulders were quite becoming and he wondered how his hair would look like that. Could he get Susan to look at him again the way she now was looking at Taggert if he let his hair grow? Did he really give a shit if she did?

No. Probably not. Rich was smart enough to know when he'd lost that particular battle. There were greater prizes to be had, though. He turned and gave Howard a smile, which was returned. Howard put a hand on Rich's knee below the surface of the table, applying enough pressure for Rich to wince, but not enough to erase the smile from the young man's face.

This new relationship with Howard was going to be quite demanding, Rich thought. But the newly acquired thoughts of a man dominating him fully as Howard had the night before opened a whole new avenue of arousal and sensuality for the pleasure-seeking American aristocrat.

It didn't improve Rich's financial situation, which had been the general idea when he'd been moving into a courting phase with Susan. But this line of thinking as lunch progressed moved into Rich wondering what the term would be for a male mistress--and what the financial benefits might be when it involved an owner of a string of clubs and restaurants who also owned a slice of a professional sports team and had the power to summon a star player from that team overnight to do his bidding--and a man who would make testing sexual demands that would go beyond what most kept men would tolerate.

And his own feelings about sex. He enjoyed topping both men and women. And now he had discovered he liked being fucked by men--by handsome hunks like Julio and even by men like Howard, with beer can dicks and dominating cruelty. He should feel guilty about that, shouldn't he? At being so hedonist that he could be aroused and come for men and woman alike, both by fucking them and being fucked by them? He should accept that as a taboo, shouldn't he?

And yet he didn't feel guilty. Sex was sex was sex. As long as he was desired--by men and woman alike, either on top or submissive, conventional or taxing, or controlling, why should he give a shit what anyone else thought was the wrong or right about that? As long as the consent was mutual, both were engaging in it with eyes wide open, why should he care what others thought?

He didn't. He moved his hand below the surface of the table to cover Howard's--to hold Howard's hand there, strongly, painfully gripping his knee. Signaling his surrender, his assent. Howard gave him another smile of recognition and Rich moved the man's hand to his basket. Rich had gone hard, and he wanted Howard to know he had.

* * * *

"I must admit that you took that well," Howard said. They were in the library after lunch, sitting on either side of a large mahogany desk, a barrier between them.

"As well as I took you last night?" Rich asked, wanting the man to know that he had leverage in this issue. "You drugged me unconscious, bound me, and fucked me without asking consent."

"And you wanted it; you'd signaled that you would take my cock. It wasn't nonconsent. You did everything but beg me to fuck you. I just made it a little more interesting than you anticipated it would be."

"Did I signal that I'd take it by force--or how thick it was?"

"Yes, that came as a bit of a surprise that you would accept it that way," Howard conceded. "I admit that I wanted to make a point, though--that you couldn't fuck around with my family without there being some consequences. All of them. Not just Hunter, which I understood when he invited you here this weekend. But my daughter, Susan, as well. And my wife. Yes, I know about that. And even my gardener. You're a randy one, aren't you?"

"They all wanted it."

"Yes, that's understandable. You're a fucking god. But you signaled you wanted it too, and I wanted to give you the best of me. I get harder when I am in total control. I admit that it was a surprise that you were as hungry to take cock as you were to give it."

They went silent at that point, both of them noticing for the first time the thumping noise coming from above them. Susan's bedroom was above the library. Rich looked into Howard's face to see if the older man realized what that meant, but Howard obviously did. There was a slight smile on his face.

"He's a heavy dude. I wouldn't expect him to fuck quietly," Howard said.

"You're sure Susan can take it?" Rich asked.

"She's having a ball being balled by a three-hundred-pound muscle god." He laughed then and abruptly changed the subject. "There's no question of you marrying Susan. I want you to understand that."

"I've gotten that message, thanks," Rich replied.

"It's not that I was against it--or that I even am now, as long as you submitted to me too. But Alma wouldn't have it. She was adamant that the one who marries her daughter isn't shipping it around. I hope you understand."

"I understand perfectly," Rich said. "I will pack up and be out this afternoon."

Rich didn't really think that Butler would leave it there, and the older man didn't. "I wish to make a deal with you," he said before Rich could leave the library. "I haven't found an Apollo--and I own a Chippendales-style club--who will take what I like like you did last night. That wasn't so horrible for you, was it?"

"No, no it wasn't," Rich admitted.

"I've had you researched." He lifted his hands as Rich balked at that. "Of course I did. Susan said she wanted you, so of course I had background checks run on you. VonClief is a distinctive name. I wanted to know if she would be well cared for. And what did I find, Mr. VonClief?"

Rich didn't answer.

"Precisely. I found out that your family is diamond chipped in the Northeast but that it's on the ropes. And I found out that you've prostituted yourself to your limp-wristed professor to be able to finish at Dartmouth and that, although you've been accepted at Julliard, there's no way in hell you can afford to go there--and that you can't afford to maintain a spoiled little girl like Susan. I was prepared to buy you. But Alma says I can't buy you for Susan. That doesn't mean I can't buy you for myself."

"Buy me? Like you bought Sonny Taggert for Susan?" They both were well aware of the thumping going on above them. Susan's bed was located right above the desk they were sitting at. It was a surprise that Susan could take what the sound indicated she was getting from a big bruiser like Taggert--and that they could continue furiously fucking as they were doing.

"Precisely. You are for sale, aren't you? Don't you spike your professor for good grades? Isn't selling yourself what you had in mind when you started dating Susan? She isn't in the same league as you are in looks and personality. Surely we both recognize that."

"Is she in Taggert's? I admit that I was attracted to Susan because she comes from a wealthy family. I'm a VonClief; that has always figured in our plans. But I have done nothing that she didn't want and didn't initiate. I would do nothing to make her unhappy. If she wants Taggert, more power to her. I just would like to know that Taggert will treat her right."

Butler sniggered. "It sounds like Taggert is treating her very much right. You discovered for yourself that Susan is a nympho. She'd love having a big dick inside her full time. It sounds like Taggert can fit that bill. Do you really care when there possibly is a better deal on the table?" Howard asked. He leaned over, pulled a wallet out of his back pocket, pulled out ten hundred-dollar notes, and fanned them out on the desktop.

"I assure you that Susan will be pleased--that she's being pleased upstairs now. Susan is all about big dicks inside her. I've seen Taggert naked in the team locker room and I've seen you naked last night. You are so much more beautiful than Taggert is and you are very nicely hung, but in the realm of dick size... and I think we both know what motivates Susan. So, shall we go on to the deal? Yes, I thought so." He pushed the bank notes to Rich's side of the desk.

"You are taking care of your needs for finishing at Dartmouth. Using your body to do so, I might add. But there's Julliard. I will put you on a stipend that pays your tuition at Julliard plus some living money. I assume you can live at home--if your family is able to keep the Riverside Park home."

Rich flinched.

"There, see? I have researched your background well," Howard said, clearly pleased with himself. "In turn, you will come to me when I summon you and you will give me what I want. Agreed?"

There was a slight pause, but Rich eventually answered. "Agreed."

"The stipulations are that you won't also be fucking Susan or Hunter. Agreed?"

Rich couldn't help himself. "And your wife, Alma?"

Butler laughed. "No, Alma's part of the deal. If she wants you, you have to give her what she wants. I've already spent the money she came with. I'm not interested in another round of divorce and adding a new bimbo to the feeding trough. I don't give a fuck what Alma does. I'll keep her the way she is. Agreed to the deal?"

"Yes."

"And if I were to tell you to pull down your trousers and lean over the desk right now?"

Rich stood, pulled down his trousers and briefs, stepped out of them, and leaned over the desk, chest to the surface of the desk, with his arms spread, his hands extending over the side of the desk Howard was sitting at. His eyes went big, however, when, with a laugh, Howard pulled open drawers on his side on either side of his chair and pulled out restraints that were anchored, through cuts in the back of the drawers, to the frame of the desk. He bound Rich's wrists, stood, unzipped himself, flared his trousers, and guided Rich's mouth to his beer-can cock, clutching the hair on the back of the young man's head in a grip that must have been painful to Rich, but that was symbolic of how the older man was going to dominate him.

Rich gagged a he fought to get the head of the cock inside his mouth, and then inside his cheeks, and then to the back of the throat. Howard face fucked the young man, both of them clearly hearing the continued thumping from the room above and Howard, possibly unconsciously, coordinating his thrusts with the beat of the bed against the floor, until he was hard as a rock. Then he pulled away from Rich and came around to Rich's side of the desk.

Rich panted and groaned and grunted, as Howard worked his hole with his fingers, adding them gradually to the effort until he had all four inside Rich's channel. The beleaguered young man, unsuccessfully trying to hold back on vocalizing the invasion, was grateful Howard had taken the time for preparation and stretching, though, when the fingers were replaced with his cock and he pumped Rich's ass to an ejaculation.

When Rich recovered enough to rise from the desk, he picked up the ten hundred-dollar bills from the desk, pulled his trousers back on, and tucked the bills into a pocket. He hobbled out of the library, where Howard, after the comment "I own the contract on your ass now," had left him, unrestrained but still draped over the surface of the desk with his bare ass exposed. In passing, he observed Howard out on the porch, talking to Diego, bare-chested, as always, standing on the lawn. Rich knew where that was headed. Upstairs, Alma was standing in the open door of her bedroom, leaning against the doorframe, in a dressing gown, smirking and smoking a cigarette. She didn't invite him in, which he was grateful for, as his ass was so sore he could barely walk. Across the hall from her room, the door to Hunter's room was open. Julio was fucking him on Hunter's bed. That probably was what Alma was watching, Rich thought.

He moved to the back of the hallway to take the stairs up to the attic. In doing so, he passed the door to Susan's room, which also was ajar enough for him to see them on the bed. Taggert was showing his prowess. Rich had been worried about Susan, all of a hundred-and-twenty pounds, saddled up with a three-hundred-pound football player. But Taggert was fucking her with finesse. He was in a three-point stance on the bed, on his knees and with one hand down to hold them steady. His other arm was wrapped around Susan's waist, her body pointed down and nestled into his, as he held her to his chest. Even in this stance, she didn't reach the surface of the bed. Her arms were dangling, her knees didn't reach the sheets, her feet were hooked on the football player's calves. He was taking her in long slides of an extreme long, thick cock. Rich couldn't decide whether Taggert was fucking her in the cunt or the ass, but, whichever, she was all dreamy and loving it.

Rich stood there, momentarily, mentally seeing himself in exactly the same configuration under Taggert. He found he didn't think of fucking Susan at all. He'd lost that battle, willing to back off on Susan if she had found something more to her liking, but he had maybe, just maybe, won a bigger one.

As he watched, the couple changed stance. Taggert pulled his cock out of Susan's cunt, showing that he, indeed, was as monstrous in size there as he was everywhere else. Expertly, gently, he turned her underneath him, maintain his three-point stance and keeping his weight off her. Now Susan was facing up, her torso draping down to the surface of the bed, Taggert holding her hips close into his crotch with an arm wrapped around the small of her back. Susan hooked her knees on his hips. She cried out and writhed under him, her hands going everywhere on his chest and biceps, prodding and squeezing, digging her fingernails as he penetrated her deep. She flopped around under him, crying out her passion, as he fucked her hard and fast for a few minutes. But then she settled down and lay there under him, panting quietly, her head flopped over, facing the door. She obviously could see Rich standing out in the corridor, panting himself, his fly open and his dick out, being stroked. A dreamy, beatific look floated across Susan's face as her lower body rocked against the now slowed down rhythm of the deep fuck.

Yes, Susan was getting what she wanted now even more than she had wanted from Rich. Rich was happy for her. It went well beyond that, though. He was floating high in arousal himself, connecting with the deep satisfaction showing in Susan's face. And it was not lost on him that he was vicariously experiencing pleasure and want in two dimensions. His imagination was putting him in the place of Taggert in this fuck, but even more than that, Rich was feeling himself in the place of Susan. It was so much richer an experience to take this one in as a sex is sex is sex bisexual.

Rich was planted to the spot, mesmerized. The spell was broken by a hoarse laugh from the front of the corridor, though. Alma had been watching Rich watching Sonny fucking Susan and vicariously experiencing the sensation of fucking Susan and being fucked by Sonny. She knew what he was watching. When Rich released while standing in the hallway, Alma laughed. He turned and went upstairs and packed and was on the road back to Dartmouth, in Hanover, New Hampshire, within the hour.

Letting his suitcase off at professor Coleman's house and after taking a shower, Rich went downstairs, made himself a drink, and waited for Coleman to come home. As it was getting dark, he called Coleman's office at the university. Coleman answered but he was a bit cold, only stiffly asking about Rich's weekend, being obviously careful about not asking Rich who he had been enjoying the weekend with.

"When are you coming home, Blake," Rich asked.

"I don't know," Coleman answered. "There's so much work to be done here. And I'd spoken to Chris about catching some dinner and coming back to finish grading some papers."

Chris Todd was a graduate student--a good-looking, willowy, gay graduate student who had recently taken a part-time position with the history department.

"I'll come over and go to dinner with you, Blake," Rich said.

"I don't know. I told Chris--"

"Tell Chris to go on home. I'll help you this evening," Rich said. He disconnected the phone before Coleman could respond. It may be that Rich had made a deal with Howard Butler now to be able to go to Julliard for his graduate studies. But there were a few more months of needing to cover his living here at Dartmouth. He slipped his trousers off and then his briefs and put his trousers back on. His undershirt was jettisoned and his shirt put back on. He checked his face and hair in the mirror.

For dinner, behind a locked office door, Rich fucked Blake Coleman on his desktop. The professor wasn't restrained, but his arms were flung out across the desktop just as Rich's had been in the library at The Rock earlier in the afternoon, his mouth had sucked Rich's cock as Rich cupped his head in his hand and stood on the other side of the desk, and Rich saddled up behind Coleman and doggy fucked the professor as Coleman's chest pulsated on the desktop just as Howard had done to Rich.

Coleman loved the fuck and the wild abandon nature of it. This had been what he had been missing in Rich--spontaneity and a hint of the nasty and the cruel. He didn't know where Rich had picked up on this being what had been missing in their relationship so far and that it was something that Coleman melted to. But this--this--was all that the professor could want from a young lover, and, with this rough fuck on top of a desk in a university office building, Rich's position in Coleman's house and life was reasserted.