Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/A/ASS13682.TXT

Text File | 1994-03-27 | 24.0 KB | 631 lines

WARNING: This story contains depictions of grpahic sex and some sexual
violence.  Do NOT read further if you do not wish to see such, and do not
read this if you are under 18!


@BEGIN_FILE_ID.DIZ
Wicked Jackie
A Ghost Story
Part 6
@END_FILE_ID.DIZ




















     I didn't eat much of the lunch Mrs. Palmer had prepared -- the
reason she'd come into my study to begin with.  I didn't have much
use for my dinner, either.  I spent the remainder of the day going
through the motions of working on my new home, grateful for the
opportunity to haul broken furniture and shattered glass out to the
trash dump.  At least physical labor kept my hands busy.

     My mind, however...

     In front of a roaring fire that evening, with a glass of port
(which mostly rested against my chin), I pieced together what I
could from the dreams and visions and visitations I'd been
experiencing for the last... could it be less than twenty-four
hours?

     I knew that Jackie's love affair with Fionna had begun
violently: with a rape.  At first, he'd considered her just another
in a long series of playthings, one of the privileges of his
position.  I knew that the affair ended tragically, with her
suicide, and then, apparently, his own.

     I shuddered, though the fire was hot nearby.  I could still
see that ghastly smile on his face, that leer of madness as he
threw himself to his death.  That beautiful face, so twisted by
pain, so twisted it frightened me.

     I felt as though I'd seen my best friend die that afternoon.
I couldn't convince myself that I was witnessing only shadows of
centuries ago.  It felt immediate.

     And why not?  Now I knew I was Etienne Berrand.  From the
visions which came to me in the study, I knew Etienne did not
approve of Jackie's excesses.  I also knew they were friends,
though, and that Jackie felt a passionate desire for Etienne.  A
need so deep that he endured the pain of a caning on the chance
that it would incite the other young man's passion.

     Had Jackie's love for Etienne ever been requited?  Surely, I'd
taken him last night in my bed.  Was that the first time in four
centuries of trying?  Or was my own sympathy for Jackie the result
of some change of Etienne's heart?

     If only I could remember.

     I focused on the dream that had started all this: Fionna's
father, bursting in, with a pack of ruffians, on Jackie as he and
Fionna practiced a "filthy" act.  Fionna's father, raising his
sword...

     What had happened next?  I did not know.  Whatever it was, it
had led to Fionna's being removed from the estate by her father, to
her suicide, and Jackie's.

     And Etienne... I... had watched, helplessly.

     My head was beginning to ache, and I shook it.  Too much wine,
perhaps, and too much concentration.  I looked at my watch.  It was
nearly midnight.  Time to get to bed.  I didn't have the energy to
get up, though.

     Helplessness again, like the helplessness I'd felt this
afternoon... and four-hundred years ago.  My poor Jackie.  He had
been deprived of Fionna's love for him.  And Etienne's?  Had
Etienne eventually given him what it was he wanted?

     I was Etienne.  I would have.  But would I have THEN?  Four
hundred years ago, when he needed love most, had I given myself to
Jackie?  I feared I had not.

     I wasn't really conscious at this point, I knew that.  Fatigue
and liquor were conspiring to dull my senses.  "Jackie?" I
whispered.  (To myself? To him? Had I said it out loud?)  "Jackie,"
I called out again.  "I'm here again.  Come to me! I'll help you
any way I can."

     "Jackie, it's Etienne!"

     No answer.  My psychic call echoed through the crumbling halls
of Liresham Castle, unanswered.  Where was my beautiful ghost?

     "Jackie! I want you now! Please, Jackie, come to me! If I
never told you before, Jackie, I... I love you.  I'll give you what
you want."

     "Jackie," I called out, "fuck me."

                               ***

     "How can I serve you, milord?" asked the boy, his innocent
brown eyes studying Jackie with the utmost apprehension.  Had he
heard the rumors of the activities of the lord?  Rumblings, these
past years about boys who were offered a reward to come and
entertain at the Castle?  Probably so, for Jackie had seen that
look dozens of times on the faces of other boys.  Poor things, the
rumors always proved to be true.

     Normally it amused him, aroused him, to see that doubt in
their eyes.  Today it only irked him.

     "Don't look so timid, boy," he said, wiping ale from his mouth
and setting down the goblet he'd held.  "It doesn't suit you."  He
got up and crossed to the door, removing the boy's hand from its
edge and pushing it shut.

     The boy took a step back as Jackie came to him.  "Please sir,"
he stammered.  "The man, the groundskeeper, he said -- "

     " -- that I would pay you for an evening's entertainment?"

     "If it please your lordship."

     "I hope it shall.  Oh yes, boy," he continued, straightening
the child's rough shirt and brushing the hair from his eyes.  "I'll
pay you."  The boy flinched at the touch, afraid of being struck,
or worse.  Jackie stepped back and studied him.  He was about
thirteen, brown eyes and hair, a dirty face.

     "You could use a bath," Jackie observed.

     "Me dad doesn't believe in bathing, sir.  He says it's an
unholy practice."

     "I've stood downwind of your father.  He believes exactly
that.  Still, we'll be wanting you clean."

     Again the boy stepped backward.  "Please," he whispered.

     Jackie spat out an irritated breath.  "For god's sake, boy!
What -- what's your name?"

     "Tom, sir."

     "Tom.  What are you afraid of, Tom?"

     The boy did not answer.

     "You've heard stories about Liresham, have you?"

     A nod.

     "Stories of the unholy and perverse rituals which take place
behind its walls?"

     The boy cocked his head.  "What's perverse mean, sir?"

     Jackie chuckled.  "I'm going to show you, don't worry."

     The boy seemed to find some courage in Jackie's own relaxed
attitude.  "It's just that -- well, some of the older boys say
you've... done things to them."

     Jackie smiled, putting his hand on Tom's thin shoulder.
"They've said that?" he gasped.

     "They said you done things that hurt them, sir, though you aid
them well for it."

     Jackie knelt, bringing his eyes to a level with Tom's.  "I'll
let you in on a secret about those stories, Tom."

     The boy waited, licking his dry lips.

     "They're all true," Jackie finished simply.  "And you've been
brought here so I can do those things to you.  It's going to hurt
you, and I'm going to enjoy it.  I won't break any bones or draw
blood, but, if the mood strikes me, I may beat you."

     Why was he being so honest? he wondered.  Part of the fun of
his conquests had always been the game-playing, the lulling his
victim into a false sense of security, the springing of the trap...

     Why did he feel differently tonight?  Why was the conquest
less fulfilling?  He still felt the tingle of pain in his buttocks
from the caning.

     Fionna.

     Would he forever associate her with the beating he'd taken?
These thoughts distracted him from his purpose.  They weren't at
all the thoughts of the selfish, domineering lord, the all-powerful
Wicked Jackie.  He thrust them from his mind.

     "Get undressed, Tom," Jackie said.  He turned and began
unlacing his own tunic.

     "You're not going to beat me now, are you?"

     "I am," said Jackie, "if you don't do as you're told.  Take
off your clothes."

     The boy quietly began to undress, his face a deep red as the
young lord's eyes wandered over him.

     "Why are you so afraid of a beating, anyway?" Jackie asked
him.  "Isn't it comforting to know that your betters see potential
in you?  That we think you're worth correcting?  You should welcome
any attention from those who would be your benefactors."

     Naked now, the boy nodded humbly.  Jackie abandoned the
removal of his own clothes and came to the boy.  He put his hands
on the thin shoulders.  "You're underfed as well," he observed.
"Do your parents do nothing for you?"

     "They do what they can."

     Jackie ran his hands down the bare back, stopping at the
buttocks.  "Those are well padded, though," he said appreciatively.
He squeezed them, separating them.  The boy tried to pull away.
Jackie brought a hand to his face and caressed his cheek.

     "Don't do that, Tom," he said gently.  Then he slapped him
hard across the cheek.

     The boy bit his lip, but didn't make a sound.

     Jackie looked down at the young penis that hung so near him.
It was shriveled in fear beneath its sparse covering of coarse
brown hair.

     "How long have you had hair there?" Jackie asked.

     "A few months."

     He took hold of the limp organ.  The boy made a noticeable
effort not to jump.  His breath was ragged, though.

     "How often do you play with it?"

     Tom swallowed.  "Never, sir!"

     Jackie looked the boy in the eye.  "All boys play with it,
Tom.  I'll cane you later, for lying to me."

     The fear on Tom's face was vaguely arousing, but not as it
should have been.  Frustrated, Jackie knelt and inspected the boy's
penis more closely.  It was beginning to harden under his
ministrations.  He gently massaged the tender flesh on its
underside, beneath the head.  It engorged and thrust itself out at
him.

     "Very nice," said Jackie.  "We'll have to attend to that
before you bathe."  He met the boy's eyes once again.  There was
fear in them, unwillingness to continue. Ordinarily he would have
declared that very look a capital crime.  He would have whipped the
boy, buttocks, back and legs, leaving a mass of welts in his wake.

     Today he didn't have the energy.  He stood and began removing
his clothes again.  "Do you want to be fucked like a man or a
woman?" he asked matter-of-factly.

     The boy was pale.  Tears were beginning to leak from his eyes.


     "Come now, child, don't be tiresome!" Jackie sighed.  "Either
bend over and let me fuck you like a man, or lie on your back like
a woman.  I don't have all day!"

     "You're going to -- " the boy stammered.

     Naked, Jackie grabbed his erection and waved it at his victim.
"I'm going to put this into your arsehole," he said.

     He brought his face inches from the boy's.  "It's no doubt
very tight up there, and it's going to hurt, and I'm going to force
my way in.  You're going to scream in pain, because it'll feel like
you're being split in half.  Then I'm going to come inside you, and
you're going to be left a sobbing, pathetic mass on the floor."

     The fury was building inside him, and Jackie didn't know why.
He was terrorizing this poor child, not for the pleasure it brought
him, for it brought him none.  No, he was doing it because anger,
burning, inexplicable anger had consumed him, and it had to be
released.

     The boy backed away once again, startled by the outburst and
graphic threats of the earl.  With the back of his hand, Jackie
cuffed Tom's mouth.  The boy yelped, turning with the blow.
Seconds later, blood began to trickle from his lip.

     "I told you not to back away!" Jackie roared, his anger
causing his breath to come in gasps.  "Now turn around! I'm going
to whip you first."

     He looked about the room, wondering what implement he would
use.  Nothing leapt to mind, and his gaze came back to the boy,
white, trembling, sobbing before him.  His face, filthy with dust
from the fields, had white streaks where his tears ran down.  He
was too afraid even to follow orders.

     Jackie shook his head.  What was this anger?  "No," he said
gently.  Taking a step forward, he grasped the boy's arm and turned
him away.  He pressed himself and his erection against the boy's
back and put an arm around him.  His penis nestled comfortably in
the crack of Tom's buttocks.

     "I'm not going to whip you," he sighed, nuzzling the boy's
neck.  Then, afraid the common child might not understand the
complexity and strangeness of his emotions, he said harshly, "I
haven't the time."  Pushing now on Tom's shoulder, he said, "just
bend over and let's get the fucking done with."

     Awkwardly, with no structure before him on which to support
himself, Tom bent at the waste.  He rested his hands on his knees.
Jackie looked down and saw the smooth young buttocks begin to
separate.  His erection pulsed urgently.

     Trying to be gentle, gentler than he'd threatened, at any
rate, he spit on his hand and lubricated the head before pushing it
against the boy's anus.  As he'd predicted, he encountered
considerable resistance.  The sphincter was tight.

     He pressed on, and the boy moaned, his muscles being stretched
in ways they never had before.  Jackie felt the ring of his
sphincter opening against his head.  He rocked his pelvis slowly,
insinuating, pushing.

     When he'd cleared the opening and his shaft slipped a good way
in, the boy gasped.

     "That's the worst of it," Jackie told him.  He was wrapped
around the boy now, his arms around the small waste, his hands
caressing chest and nipples.  "Once it's in, the pain fades."
He began thrusting more vigorously, pulling in and out as the boy's
tightening sphincter massaged his sex.

     As Jackie's felt his orgasm about to come, his assault became
too much for the boy, who lost his precarious balance and toppled
to the floor, pulling Jackie with him.  Miraculously, his penis
remained in its berth.

     Once on the floor, the boy pinned beneath him, Jackie began
driving even more fiercely into the virgin rectum.  He lifted his
upper body, supporting himself on both arms, allowing deeper
penetration.

     Tom groaned.

     "Does this hurt?" Jackie asked.

     "Yes," came the weak reply.

     Jackie chuckled.  "Good.  I remember how it hurt me the first
time.  I was raped by the vicar.  Did you know that, boy?"

     Tom didn't reply.  Jackie was groaning himself now, as his
ejaculate spurted into his young victim.  He slowed and halted his
pelvic motions, wiping his brow as he did.  It was hot today, and
sweat smeared across his forehead beneath his hand, dampening his
blond bangs.

     Tom's buttocks were coated now in sweat as well.  As Jackie
pulled out of him, their flesh stuck where the hollow of abdomen
had been cemented to the globes of buttocks.

     Jackie sat down on the hard floor and stroked Tom's matted
hair.  "Did you enjoy it?" he asked.  "I hated my first time, but
once I got accustomed to it, there is a certain pleasure involved
in being fucked.  I haven't had a man up me in a long -- "

     He suddenly realized the boy was crying.  It wasn't uncommon.
Their heads riddled with that pious, religious nonsense about
sodomy, the common boys often cried after he'd put them to good
use.  He generally gave them a good whipping for it, or shoved a
candle in where his penis had just been, and made them hold it
there.

     Today was different, though.  Why?  The boy wasn't anything
special.  He was just another tool for Jackie's pleasure, like all
the others, like...

     Fionna.

     She had been just a tool, hadn't she?  That was, until Etienne
had berated Jackie for raping her and beaten him for his
transgression.  Fionna had witnessed that beating, and the
lovemaking which had followed...

     He lifted Tom's chin from where he'd buried it in his arms.
Tears still streaked it, and his expression held abject fear.
"What are you going to do now?" he murmured.

     "Nothing," said Jackie.  "You're free to go.  Unless you want
something from me."

     The boy's gaze was questioning.  "From you?"

     Jackie sighed.  "The things I did to you -- the things I
talked about doing -- they're just games."

     "Games?" wondered Tom.  His voice gained a little boldness.
"It's sinful! I'll have to go to confession -- "

     A harsh snort of a laugh escaped Jackie.  "Don't confess this
to the Vicar, boy, unless you want the same from him.  Your story
would only incite his considerable lust."

     "You hurt me.  You said you were going to beat me.  I know
you've beat other boys."

     "Indeed I have.  And I will again.  I don't do anyone
permanent harm, though.  You arse will be sore for a few days,
but... it wasn't all bad... was it?"

     Tom turned away, but the tips of his ears betrayed him.
Beneath brown curls of dirty hair, they were tinged with red.

     "You're blushing," observed Jackie.  "Is it because it did
feel good when my tool was inside you, moving about?  Didn't you
feel your own stiffening?  Yearning?"

     "Yes," whispered Tom pitifully.  "But it's a sin!"

     Jackie seized the boy's arm.  "There are no sins, Tom!" he
said harshly.  "The Vicar and your parents only pretend there are,
so they can manipulate you! Don't be manipulated.  Enjoy yourself!"

     The boy didn't move.  He kept his face hidden.  He was so
wedded to his commoner's beliefs.  He couldn't stand up and admit
that he enjoyed sexual contact with another male, that an unholy
act could bring him pleasure.

     Jackie rolled him onto his back, exposing the organ he so
wanted to hide.  It thrust eagerly at the ceiling.  With one hand
on the boy's stomach to keep him from getting up, Jackie moved down
toward the pulsing stiffness.

     As he lowered his head, strands of Jackie's blonde hair
tickled and played over Tom's belly.  The boy wiggled,
inadvertently pushing his penis toward Jackie's lips, which parted
and engulfed the tip of it.

     Tom began to object, but Jackie silenced him with a gentle
slap to his thigh.  The young earl took more of the boy's erection
into his mouth, massaging it with his tongue as he did.

     It felt satisfying, Jackie reflected, to do this.  It had been
a long time since he'd fellated another male, and never by his own
choosing.  Now, though, having the head of the other boy's sex
pressing against the back of his throat, seemed to fulfill some
basic need.  Despite the urge to gag -- easily overcome -- it was
soothing.

     Tom's hips began thrusting against his will, trying to force
more of his length into Jackie's mouth.  He was moaning again, a
totally different sound than he'd produced before.  In his growing
urgency, his hands came down to tangle in Jackie's hair.  Roughly
his fingers scraped Jackie's neck and ears.

     The boy's moans crescendoed.  He shrieked.  His hands tore
Jackie's hair, and his pelvis spasmed.

     And the hot, salty wetness of his semen erupted into Jackie's
mouth.

     When it was over, the boy looked guiltily at his master.  His
eyes asked silent questions.  Was he to be punished for his
transgression?  Even one as unworldly as he knew that only whores
swallowed ejaculate.  He should have pulled out.

     Jackie smiled.  "Don't look so fearful.  You've done nothing
wrong.  Did you enjoy it?"

     Tom was silent, though his fearful look had gone.

     "I know," Jackie said.  "You can't admit to such a thing.
Still, I hope you did enjoy it.  You're free to go now, and you
need never return.  I won't trouble you further."

     Even as he said the words, he wasn't sure from whence his
generosity had sprung.  The boy had resisted him, had called him
sinful.  Why was he so kindly disposed?

     Tom dressed quickly, while Jackie watched.  He seemed still
uncomfortable to be stared at, but not so afraid that God might
strike him dead for participating in a lustful act.

     Fully clothed, he started for the door, turning when his hand
touched the oak frame.

     "I wonder, sir," he said hesitantly, "if there might be some
odd jobs about the place?"  He lowered his eyes as he added, "I
might like to come back again, for a bit."

     Jackie nodded and sighed, letting his back rest against the
stone wall.  "We'll find something for you, Tom.  Something to your
liking."

     The boy left, shutting the door behind him.  Jackie still sat
contemplating the encounter till he was interrupted by a voice from
the doorway to the connecting chamber.

     "Is that what it's all about?" asked Etienne Berrand
distastefully.

     Jackie started and, realizing he was naked, blushed furiously.
"Were you watching?"

     Etienne came into the room and flopped himself into a chair,
sloppily.  Had he been drinking?  "Oh yes," he said quite
confidently.  "I wanted to know what it is you get up to with those
poor boys."  He made a face.  "Do you enjoy that?  It seems rather
filthy."

     "I don't want to talk about it," Jackie said as he picked up
his scattered clothes and began to dress.

     "Funny.  You've always wanted to talk about it before.  You've
always been quite eager to tell me tales of sodomy.  What's
changed?"

     "I've grown bored with trying to shock you."

     Etienne was silent for a moment, then he said, "You were
really very gentle with him, all things considered."

     "Am I losing my touch?"

     "No whips, belts or canes.  No forcible rape.  And you gave
him some pleasure too.  Quite different."

     There was something quite different about Etienne, too,
thought Jackie.  He was obviously drunk, he'd been deliberately
spying on homosexual activities, and now he wanted to talk about
them.  Why the change in him?

     "You've had a bit, haven't you?" Jackie asked.

     Etienne nodded, his lips pursing.  "A drop, perhaps.  You have
such fine stock."  He met Jackie's eyes.  "Tell me, what does it
taste like?"

     "My wine?"

     "No.  Having a boy do that... in your mouth."

     "Would you like to find out?"

     Etienne giggled.  "Oh, I should be offended by that, shouldn't
I?  How I object to such talk! You really are an evil creature,
John, you know that?"

     Suddenly Jackie was very uncomfortable with this whole
exchange.  "I really must go, Etienne.  Excuse me."

     He hadn't taken two steps, though, before his friend spoke
again.  "You know why I'm drunk?  D'you know?"

     Jackie shook his head.

     "Because I couldn't bear the guilt, John.  The guilt of what
it was you tricked me into doing.  You remember -- ?"

     "Yes," Jackie muttered.

     "Does it still hurt, John?" Etienne asked, rising to stumble
towards him.  "Does it?  Hmm?  Does your arse still feel like it's
one fire under my cane?  And does it still excite you -- ?"

     "You're babbling," Jackie said disgustedly.  He turned to
leave.

     Etienne grabbed his shoulder roughly, pulling him off balance.
"Does it excite you, as much as it excited me?"

     Speechless, Jackie stood and stared and waited.

     "Oh yes," said Etienne, "it excited me, having that power over
you, seeing you in pain, inflicted by another.  It excited me to
see the tables turned for once.  That's what you wanted, wasn't
it?"

     Jackie had to look away.  His friend's face was twisted in
anguish and guilt.  His words struck like a rapier blade, wounding,
cutting.  He might have brought this on, but he didn't like it.
Etienne was strong in his moral convictions.  That, he knew, was
one of the things he liked about him.  It was also one of the
things he'd fantasized about changing.

     Now, it seemed, his fantasies were coming to life, and they
terrified him.

     Etienne had not released his grip on Jackie's arm, and now
pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

     "You asked me if it made my dick hard, doing what I did," he
said.  "Well it did.  And I've found no release for my passion."

     Jackie was paralyzed.  What was happening was simply beyond
his conception of reality.  His heart sank at the next words
Etienne uttered, even as his loins stirred.

     "Perhaps," said Etienne, "you'd like to help me with that.  Do
you suppose you might do to me what you just did to that boy?"

                         TO BE CONTINUED