Anonymous - Memoirs of a Voluptuary, or the Secret Life of an English Boarding School

Shortly after I awakened, the room door opened and two good looking Japanese boys clad in richly embroidered kimonos, entered, bearing on silver trays a morning repast of rosy rolls and cakes and warm milk.

After this, my host took me to the bathroom, which was a large apartment furnished and decorated with considerable luxury. Here we found the two Japanese lads, also an English chap, very handsome, with clear blue eyes and curling hair of purest gold.

Lord Harry told me that the young man had been with him since his parents died. His name was Jack.

I was waiting for them to leave the room, so that I might bathe, but apparently they were in no hurry to go. Then it occurred to me that my host was about to ask me to bare myself before them all. The idea was not altogether pleasing and the red entered my cheeks again.

I turned a last look at the three boys and then glanced at my host, but he averted his eyes and directed his gaze at the trio, who as if understanding the unspoken command, threw off their robes. The two Japanese boys advanced to me, unfastened my dressing gown and drew it off. I neither offered resistance nor made protest, only experiencing a degree of injured modesty at being thus exposed before them.

Jack fetched a large pot of soap, a dish of hot water and a big brush, like an overgrown shaving brush, and went on to cover my body with thick layers of soapy lather, which Ko San and Takura rubbed in with their hands.

I felt some humiliation at being manipulated in this way, for Takura and Ko San held no part of my body sacred from their touch. They continued to pull about my legs and arms in all ways to suit their convenience, while Jack seemed to take an impish delight in paying attention with his soap brush to my belly and buttocks, thrusting his instrument right into the furrow of my bottom, lifting my cock while he lathered my balls, and generally acting in an abandoned way, laughing gleefully all the while, but I could not help finally entering into the spirit of the thing, and joining in the mirth myself.

When I had been thoroughly washed and dried, Lord Harry, who had in the meantime performed his own ablutions, brought me a superb kimono of embroidered Japanese silk lined with fur, and slippers edged with fur were placed on my feet.

My host begged me to accompany him to the Hall. I rose to do so, but was rather startled to find that my robe had no fastenings. Apparently I was not to be allowed even to hide my nakedness.

When we reached the Hall, we sat down till the servants came to announce that the mid-day meal was ready. This was plentiful and of excellent character, and each course served up to me consisted of numerous platters piled high with dripping meats, juicy poultry, tasty breads and rich sauces. I ate heartily, watching with glee as the butlers unveiled and served each helping, while the young men also waited in attendance.

When I felt I was well-stuffed and could not eat another bite, I declined the third helping of pheasant I was offered with a stifled hiccough.

“What is the matter, Master Charles?” said Lord Harry as he looked up from his meal. “Does the food I have prepared for your enjoyment not agree with you?”

“Oh no, my Lord,” I cried, rubbing my belly for emphasis. “It's just that I have eaten more than my fill and simply cannot indulge myself a single morsel more.”

“Nonsense, Charles,” chastised Lord Harry. “You are a growing young man, are you not? I order you to finish your luncheon and do so with haste, or you shall be the victim of my displeasure.”

“Yes Sir,” I said, only slightly alarmed. The twinkle in Lord Harry's eye bespoke his good humor in this game, and sparked me to wonder what his punishment could be if brought to bear.

Having gorged myself upon the fowl, I leaned back upon my chair, but then released an audible moan when the smiling butler placed a heaping plate of bread pudding before me in the former platter's stead.

“Oh, please, Lord Harry!” I cried. “Have mercy. I could not possibly eat this pudding, though I am certain it's delicious. Why, I am so full that if I eat one thing more, I should positively burst!”

“Peter!” Lord Harry interrupted sharply, “see to it that Master Charles finishes his pudding, for if he does not, then he shall receive a spanking before all in attendance because he did not finish his meal.”

The tall black South African stepped up to the table, took my spoon and shoveled a small portion of the pudding toward my lips. I kept them shut and upturned slightly at the edges, placing an air of mischief into my demeanor. I saw Lord Harry's game, or so I thought. If he wished to see a spanking take place, then he would get one – though an edge of fear did creep into the back of my mind, as I had not received one of these among so many strangers.

“I see that my guest defies me,” said Lord Harry. “Very well, then, so be it. You may proceed, Peter.”

Before I could utter another word, my stuffed and overfed body was turned bottom side up and my robe was pulled harshly to one side, revealing my firm, nude buttocks to prying eyes all 'round me. I was then draped over Peter's great thighs and made to be prone in one swift motion. My hands were bound with rope at the wrists behind me, and this frightened me, but I soon forgot I was tied when Peter's large and sturdy hand came down with a sharp slap to my rump, and this was the first of many.

Lord Harry looked on, grinning widely as I succumbed to Peter's repeated stinging slaps to my blushing buttocks. Though the spanking smarted badly and heated my behind a great deal, I also felt my cock stir and flare as it rubbed against Peter's hard thighs and seemed to absorb the exquisite fire being laid into my rear. The great black man seemed to know the effect his spanking had upon me intuitively, and yet he continued to heighten his attack. Fairly soon, tears were running down my cheeks and I was forced to cry for mercy. “Please, Peter; please Lord Harry, I give in! I shall eat all my pudding if you cease this punishment.”

Peter let me up at Lord Harry's bidding, but did not untie my wrists from behind me. Instead, he spoon fed me the last of the pudding, taking care to dry my cheeks and make certain not a crumb was dropped.

Afterwards, when the utensils had been taken away, but before the cloth was removed, Lord Harry said, “We must have a final course of sweet,” and he directed Peter to take off my robe. When he had done so, I was laid at full length upon the table, my legs slightly raised, my knees bent as far apart as possible. My host then told me to remain in this position, and with a spoon, he smeared my cock and balls and the adjacent parts of my thighs and belly with a plentiful coating of a rich, thick Oriental conserve. This he applied himself to lick off, with the greatest relish, not stopping till he had cleared away every particle with his tongue, and indeed, keeping on after all had gone.

Not content even then, he uncovered the head of my member and put another large spoonful on this and all around the sides, under the knob, also licking this off. And when this was over and I expected at last to be released, more of the conserve was smeared along my sides and upon my breast and belly and cock, and each of the three young men present took a turn in licking and nibbling it off. As they descended upon my hard cock and my swollen, aching body, there upon the oaken table, my reeling mind brought me back to that evening with Cecil, Lord Henry and Gaston de Beaupre, when all those men surrounded and all but devoured that beautiful golden boy. Now it was my turn, I mused, even as I was brought to a glorious spend and sent hot sperm shooting across the tablecloth and into the preserve still left upon my thighs.

Only after this was I untied and allowed to resume my robe, and as I did so, I said, “I have known of that before. It is called baton de sucre, is it not?”