Previously: Trust fund heir Max was given the keys to Northwood Manor, a dilapidated estate. A small staff was instructed to help him as he worked on the house to earn his way back into the good graces of the family. There is the strange butler, Giles, the local chef, Cliff, and a loyal maid named Delia who was fired after decades of service. The rough but attractive young gardener, Nick, has been transformed into a servant.
Master of the House (Part 2 of 5)
How could you best describe the feeling of being the subject of worship? Mouth on cock, the licking, the sucking, it drove Max wild. Being enveloped in the lips of a warm mouth. Pleasing, moaning, the tension building. Heavy breaths. Up and down, with gentle licks on the bottom of his dick. His soft hand rested on the head as waves of pleasure flooded his body. Dick wet, he pulses down and his hips rise to pick up the pace. And he feels the waves crash and simmer through his skin and almost out through his toes. Caressing the face, he feels stubble. Max doesn’t care. He wants it so badly. He wants it. He wants.
The door knocked three times, stirring him awake.
His eyes flicked open as he faced the day. It was another sex dream. Another dream with no payoff. Enough was enough, he thought as he tugged at his hard cock through his pajamas. Once again, Max had woken up drenched with sweat.
The door knocked three times once more.
‘Good morning, Master!’ Nicholas chimed from outside the door. ‘Breakfast is served.’
Trying to hide in the sheets of the bed, his cock rock hard burning for attention. For the past week, the blond gardener-turned-servant boy had been delivering his morning meal. Every time as Max longed to get a morning wank in to try and relieve himself from the stress, he’d be woken up and interrupted. It was starting to get frustrating. He needed to cum, badly.
‘That’s all, Nicholas,’ Max said. ‘
‘But Sir, normally I’m here to pour your coffee and juice Sir,’ the young servant said. ‘Do you need me to assist you in any other way Sir?’
Max wondered, considered. He couldn’t help but gaze at the young sun-kissed lad all scrubbed up and dressed up in a uniform. The black bowtie indicating his service. The waistcoat hugging his virile, muscled frame. The luscious full lips that pursed a little. His puppy dog eyes.
‘Yes,…’ Max said, slightly sitting up in bed. His cock still as hard as anything.
Giles was in his butler’s study, preparing for the day. The work was going excellently. Books were in order, chores were complete, and companies had been chosen to begin the work in the east wing of the manor. Surveying his desk, he cast his eye over his things. Simple, really. He didn’t need much. A fountain pen given to him from Max’s uncle, a pocket-watch on a silver chain, cufflinks, and numerous papers detailing the history and blueprint of the house.
Without a maid, he considered whether it was necessary to bring in extra help. Perhaps one of the lads from the nearby village could be a good opportunity. Take a young guy just turned 21 from a life of rugby or football, dallying with drunken fumblings in the park and gift to him a life of elegance, formality and service. He always loved seeing a boy try on a bow tie the first time, not knowing it would be the last time he would want to wear anything else.
But no, he must be patient. Giles couldn’t wait to see Northwood Manor alive with activity again. A house full of servants working together for one purpose: to care for a Master’s every need.
But Max, and the rest of the house, still needed some work.
‘I’m sorry, no, Nicholas get up please. I’m sorry,’ Max stammered, flying to the ensuite bathroom.
‘Master, is everything okay?’ Nicholas said, still kneeling in front of the bed.
Max had come so close, so close, to fucking the blond boy’s face. Those lips were calling to his cock. Running cold water in the basin, he splashed his face to wake him back up to reality.
But no, he couldn’t. He was straight. He liked women. This couldn’t, no wouldn’t, work.
‘Please leave Nicholas, go about your chores!’ Max cried.
‘Yes Master, whatever you say,’ Nicholas said from outside the door. ‘Following your morning run, Sir, it is in the schedule for me to measure you for a new suit. Is that still suitable, Sir?’
‘Yes boy, no, wait, yes Nicholas, that will be fine!’
But it wasn’t. Max worked up a sweat, fast, as he paced around the estate. Trying to gain a wind in the summer sun, his muscles glistened, but he couldn’t get Nicholas’ lips out of his head. The guy, all dressed up in a black bow tie, on his knees in his bedroom.
And every time he passed the main entrance of the manor, Nicholas was there. He didn’t move once. He stood there, like a statue, in his uniform. In his right hand a silver plate with cold towels, and his left hand behind his back.
Even though he tried to think of the various women he had bedded over the years, he couldn’t. He couldn’t help but think of the pleasure he could feel, the relief, the need.
Cliff had been a cook for a long time now, and he couldn’t help but think this was probably his easiest gig aside from the loss of his beloved beard. He’d never really been one to work well with others, so going solo was fine. It was one guy he was cooking for, and the dude seemed like pretty relaxed with a wide taste in food. Having been a personal chef now for quite a long time, he had to get used to individual palettes.
Some will request the foie gras and the caviar available for guests, of course, but some also just as easily crave a meatball sub.
Max’s uncle, Maximilian himself, loved his sausages.
Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen was brand new. Easy to clean and maintain, and capable of making dishes for a whole wedding’s worth of people. He supposed a big house like this would end up being converted into a hotel or something.
He only made three special meals a day for the boss. For him and Nick, it was a diet of chicken, veg and brown rice as ordered by Giles. He had no idea how Giles was getting his meals, as he never came down for them and ate alone in his study.
It meant he was getting a little bored, and would go on walks through the labyrinth of rooms and see what he could find. Cliff loved history, and was a son of the nearby village. It was actually an honour to work at Northwood Manor. He still remembered riding his bike up to the locked gates as a kid, and wondering what kind of people lived there.
Built as a present from the king, the manor was given to the Colliers who owned it for centuries. About 150 years ago, it was sold to the Granthams – Max’s family. It was not a surprise. Back in the day there used to be many manors like this one that had an army of butlers, valets, footmen, servants, maids, chauffeurs, and cooks. But as times changed, the upper class shrank, and life continued.
The Granthams were a grandfather clock in a world of iPhones, ticking along to keep on with tradition no matter what.
Ever since they bought the place, even through two world wars, a Grantham had always stayed as Master of the house.
Cliff had returned to his favourite room, the library, and poured over musty tome after musty tome. While it may look like gibberish, it revealed hints at decades of scandal, betrayal, intrigue, and family mystery. He wondered whether he could compile something and gift it to Max, perhaps make him see how fascinating it all is.
As he drew back another volume, and he flicked through, something seemed a little unusual. A letter. Not from decades ago, it was clearly written on modern paper. Why was it tucked inside a tome of family records?
Hidden inside the envelope, addressed to no one, seemed to be a note written in careful but quick handwriting. Cliff wondered whether it belonged to Max’s uncle.
Hesitating, he drew the letter out from the envelope. Unfolding it, his eyes scattered across the page. Widening, Cliff couldn’t believe what he just read.
‘What have you found Clifford?’ a voice from the darkness said.
The creaking library door slammed shut.
Max was trying his hardest to think of something else, anything else.
He and Nicholas were back in his bedroom, and his servant was going through a rack of suits in a variety of cuts and fabrics that had just arrived. It had been recommended by Giles if he was to be meeting with contractors, he could hardly do it in a polo and jeans. Most of the suits on the rack looked vintage to Max, with many choices of wool blends and double-breasted jackets.
He’d had to find something that looked the most fashionable.
But first, he was going to get measured by Nicholas. The servant boy would often absent-mindedly tighten his black bow tie or straighten his waistcoat. Max still couldn’t believe the transformation. When he was a gardener, he was foul-mouthed and had no manners. What had happened to him?
‘It is likely best if we begin the measurements with you in your undergarments, Master,’ Nicholas said, peering over the list of what he needed to write down.
Max nodded, sighing a little. Of course. Shrugging off the polo shirt and unbuttoning the jeans, he willed his mind to think of his old Latin teacher as he stood in his boxers. He kept trying to tell himself a, he was straight, and b, think of someone he couldn’t get a boner from. Why wasn’t it working?
But even Max could see Nicholas’ smile as he unveiled his tight abs and muscles won through sport and swimming. He was proud of his body, he had every right to be. He loved showing it off.
‘Hmm,’ Nicholas said. ‘It’s probably best if I measure with you while you’re wearing socks and suspenders as well, Sir. Let me put them on for you.’
With a flourish, Nicholas was back on his knees in front of Max. With a gesture, the young man in uniform had ushered up the sheerest luxurious socks up to the near top of Max’s calves.
Max tried to stop himself from looking at this man with his sun-kissed skin work to buckle the sock to his leg with the suspender. It was a will that tortured Max, trying to control his body, as he almost shook from the anguish.
‘How does that feel, Master?’ Nicholas queried, looking up at him from below.
‘Good!’ Max said. ‘Thank you!’
Hiking up his black trousers to stand, the transformed servant went to the table to fetch the measuring tape.
‘Could you hold your arms up, Master?’ the boy softly said, almost as a whisper. He stroked Max’s back muscles, his arms and softly touched his wrists to take the measurement. Behind him, Max could feel the hands move to take his length. And then, the hands moved around him, embracing him, to measure the waist.
‘Are you ready for me to do the in-seam, Master?’ Nicholas said.
And with those warmed hands underneath the soft cotton of the glove, they moved upwards. Heat travelled up towards Max’s crotch. This was it. He had lost.
‘Oh Master, wow,’ Nicholas said, his face directly in front of Max’s bulging cock in his boxers. He licked his lips. He stared at his Sir, eyes sparkling.
‘You know, Sir, I am happy to serve you in any way you want.’
Max couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t a fag. He wasn’t a nancy boy. He wasn’t like this! But he couldn’t help it, he wanted it. He needed it. He had to feel a mouth on his cock.
‘P-please,’ Max said. ‘Please serve me.’
Max’s cock charged to full attention in the cool air as Nicholas released it from its cotton prison. Warm breath tickled the bulging, fiery head slick with need. And with a single, triumphant lick, Max surrendered.
And like that, Nicholas swallowed Max’s length to the very end. It was worship. The licking, the sucking, it was everything Max needed. A hand rested on his blond locks as his knees almost buckled from the pleasure. Heat enveloped his body as the sounds of sucking. Involuntarily he moaned deep as he felt his hips meet head. His dick wet, he felt his body clench and release as the boy drove him wild. This felt like everything. He feared it was a dream. But it wasn’t. His body tingled like fireworks and exploded into Nicholas’ eager, waiting mouth. Shots of salty hot seed was sucked down the throat. It was a pleasure that Max had never felt before, and knew immediately he would have to feel again.
Nicholas tried to catch his breath. And once again, absent-mindedly fixed his bow tie so it was straight and to attention.
‘Was that good for you, Master?’ he asked, looking up.
‘Yes boy. Yes, it was very good boy,’ Max smiled in relief, his hand still stroking his servant’s head.
‘This will be one of your duties, now. Every morning when I wake up. Also, whenever I want it. Got it boy?’
‘Yes Master!’ Nicholas said. ‘I am happy to be of service, Sir.’
‘Good boy,’ Max said, as he stood a little taller. ‘Now it is time you dress me in one of these suits. I have important matters to attend to.’
As the servant that just sucked his cock buttoned his shirt, and tied a tie around his neck, Max couldn’t help but think he could get used to this. What was wrong with playing the Master? That’s what he was, after all. That’s what he had learned. Some men are servants, submissive and eager to please. And some men are Masters, and had servants to please them.
Almost fully dressed, he saw Nicholas in that uniform of his. The bow tie so tight. His expression so innocent. It was easy for him to unzip and release his hardening cock once again.
‘Boy, those matters can wait,’ Max said, as he tightened the tie at his neck. ‘First of all, serve me again.’
