Christmas At Leo's - Memoirs Of A Houseboy (19 page)

Read Christmas At Leo's - Memoirs Of A Houseboy Online

Authors: Gillibran Brown

Tags: #power exchange, #domination and discipline, #Gay Romance, #gay, #domestic discipline, #memoirs of a houseboy, #BDSM, #biographical narrative, #domination and submission romance, #menage

BOOK: Christmas At Leo's - Memoirs Of A Houseboy
11.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Jak came back into the room with a bottle of lager. Mike told him to go easy on the booze, as he wanted his help in checking over the play equipment later on.

I finished my soup, but declined a sandwich. I had no appetite at all. Anger and resentment lay heavy in my stomach like undigested porridge. Leo brought out fresh figs and dates along with a cheese board. He also put a bottle of fine vintage Port on the table, a thirty-year-old tawny that promised caramel, raisins and a hint of vanilla on the palate.

I turned to Dick. “Excuse me.” I made to push back my chair, but he stopped me by placing a discreet hand on my thigh. “Have some fruit and cheese,” he said quietly. “You like fresh figs.”

“No thanks. I’ve had enough. I’d like to be excused, please.”

It was like he hadn’t heard me.

“I’ll cut you some cheese. The creamy white Stilton goes particularly well with figs.”

A plump purple fig and a generous portion of white cheese duly appeared on a plate in front of me.

Leo uncorked the port bottle and poured the rich wine into four delicate glasses. He handed one to Mike, Shane and Dick, asking Jak. “Do you want one?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Too syrupy for me. I’ll stick with Stella.”

Leo turned to me. “There’s some alcohol free lager in the fridge if you want a drink.”

“I can’t stand Cobra, thanks all the same. It smells and tastes like cabbage water.”

“There are plenty of soft drinks, or milk if you prefer. There’s some Perrier water too, but I haven’t got round to chilling it yet. You could put ice cubes in it. Help yourself when you’re ready.”

I felt like telling him where to shove his soft drinks. Dick angered me further.

“Come on, honey, eat your fruit and cheese.”

I was hard pressed to keep a civil tone in my voice. “I told you. I’ve had enough.”

“A bowl of light soup won’t carry you through until dinner.” Dick placed his hand on my thigh again. “You’ll get a hunger headache.”

“I’ll be fine.” I moved my leg away from his touch. I was on the verge of excusing myself from the table on the pretence of needing the toilet, when Shane made me start by reaching across the table and removing my plate. He twisted the stem off the fig and cut the fruit into quarters. He then peeled the skin away from each quarter. Fig skin is edible, but I don’t like the texture. He put the skin on his own plate and then pushed my plate back across the table. I wanted to dash it to the floor. I stared at it and then at him. The look in his eyes made my anal sphincter clench. I dropped my gaze first. It was clear I had no choice but to eat the fruit and cheese.

Mike asked Leo a question about his mother and her plans for Christmas, which triggered a general discussion about families and the holidays. Leo’s elderly, but robust mother was spending the festivities with friends in Madeira. Of course it couldn’t be Skegness or the Isle of Dogs. It had to be somewhere posh like Madeira. Only well off people can afford to holiday in a region that has a cake and a fine wine named after it. The rest of us have to slum it at Blackpool, famed for kiss me quick hats and cheap sticks of sugar rock shaped like tits and cocks, designed for the hen and stag party brigade.

Jak’s parents and younger brother were spending Christmas with his older sister and her hubby in Somerset. He’d been invited, but had declined. His sis has a clutch of boisterous young kids. He probably didn’t want them touching his precious juggling balls or begging for a ride on his saddled wheel.

Mike’s widowed mother had journeyed to New Zealand to spend the winter months with his sister’s family. Mike had been invited for Christmas, but it was a little too far to travel for a turkey dinner. Besides, he couldn’t stand his bro-in-law. He described him as a brick shithouse stinking of self-righteous excrement. No love lost there then.

Dick’s family was spending the festivities at the ancestral pile, as per usual. His mother had complained about him seldom visiting at Christmastime and he had half promised he would make the effort next year. It was news to me.

Shane’s father was spending the holiday with Shane’s brother James and his partner Lorraine. Penny and her hubby the Muppet were also joining the happy throng. Lorraine was in pod and expecting at any moment. Heaven forbid Penny wasn’t there to stick her snout in.

There was an awkward little moment when it came to my family. Everyone at the table knew the only family I had was my mother, and she was dying. Christmas and death are uncomfortable companions. There’s a general belief that the Grim Reaper takes his annual holiday at Christmastime, and therefore no one dies. Christmas is hyped to be jolly and fun and someone selfishly dying on the day would just fuck that right up. Of course, it’s a false belief. People die in countless numbers every second of every day, Christmas Day and all.

Mike bit the bullet. “How is your mother, Gil?”

“Good, thanks. I saw her yesterday.” I forced a smile, but offered no details. I ate the fig and cheese. They were nice, a perfect combination of sharp and sweet. I observed the fact without interest or real pleasure.

Mike finished off his glass of port and then commandeered Jak. They went off to check the equipment ready for the party on Boxing Day. Leo’s ‘dungeon’ is actually an extension that amounts to a pleasure palace for the kinky. It’s divided into rooms, each designed for different forms of play. There isn’t a kink left un-catered for, with the exception of golden showering and scat. Leo doesn’t disapprove of piss and poo play as such, each to their own, but he doesn’t want it taking place on his sweet fragranced premises. No one is shitting in his posh backyard, thank you very much. He has been known to allow adult baby play for those so inclined, because the ‘fallout’ is contained. His rule is that any soiled nappies are taken away by the participants to dispose of.

Leo turned the conversation to work, delivering a nugget of enlightenment, as he topped up Shane’s port glass. “Dick said the Housing Association withdrew from the cinema project out of the blue. How come? I thought it was all signed, sealed and delivered.”

“So did I, Leo, until yesterday.”

Ah. I pricked up my lugs, so that was the serious work issue that Dick had mentioned. Shane’s construction company had recently secured a contract to build new housing on the site of an old cinema come bingo hall. It looked like it had fallen through.

“What happened? Problems with planning?”

“The residential planning approval for the site is solid. I’m not clear on all the details yet, but it seems the bank cancelled the loan to buy the land because the agreed terms of it were invalidated. There are rumours about serious malpractice on the part of the Association. They’re under investigation. The project has been scrapped and the land is back up for sale.”

“It must have been a blow.”

“It’s a crying shame.” Shane sipped at his port and leaned back in his chair. “The area in general is being regenerated. It’s a prime location for new housing, ideal for commuters, especially once the planned new road system goes in.” He glanced across the table at Dick, his mouth softening into a half smile. “All might not be lost. I’m considering buying the land and making the build as a personal investment. It’s a risk, given the climate, but I think it could pay off handsomely. I’m thinking luxury apartments. There’s a dearth of high quality housing in the area. Dick has already had some brilliant design ideas that will take them out of the ordinary. How do you feel about jumping aboard as an investor, along with Dick and myself?”

Leo grinned. “I’d have invited myself if you hadn’t asked. Come on.” He supped off his port and stood up. “Let’s take this conversation upstairs to my study. Give me all the juicy details as they stand.”

I cleared my throat. “What about me?”

“You’re kept for decorative purposes not your business ability.” Leo smirked. “But seeing as you’ve asked. How much have you got to invest?”

I glared at him. “Nothing. My employers don’t pay me enough. I thought I might put in for the cleaning contract on the show houses once they’re built.”

“A while to go before that happens, hun, but we’ll keep you in mind.”

“Big of you I’m sure.” I stood up, shoving my chair under the table. “I suppose I’m expected to clear up and wash up while you’re all talking business. I don’t see why I should always end up being the fucking house elf. It’s always me, isn’t it, wherever we go? Gilli will wash up. Gilli will clean up. Gilli will fetch and carry. I’m less a boyfriend and more an indentured servant.”

“Hardly an indentured servant, hun.” Dick smiled, his voice sounding a tease. “You do get paid after all.”

“I don’t have any bloody freedom, though.”

“Why are you being so quarrelsome today?” Dick’s smile vanished. He ran a hand through his hair. “We can’t say right for saying wrong. You’re stressing us all out.”

“Yeah? Well, here’s news. You stress me out too.”

“That’s enough lip from you.” Shane rose to his feet, addressing Dick “You go ahead with Leo. I won’t be long. I want a word with our young man.”

Dick nodded and walked out of the dining room with Leo, leaving me alone with Shane. I felt as nervous as a mouse cornered by a cat as he leaned towards me. I couldn’t look at him.

“You seem to have forgotten or misunderstood the conversation we had upstairs. What part of pleasing me didn’t you understand?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. I sucked air through my teeth as he straightened up, grasped my arm, spun me sideways and landed a colossal slap to my bottom, putting his full weight behind it. It almost took me off my feet.

“Because I’m not pleased, not pleased at all. I warned you about displays of resentment.”

I gave a squeak as he whisked down my jeans and pants, landing another slap to my bare backside. Water sprang to my eyes and not just because of the pain. My heart thundered in my chest. I was terrified in case Mike and Jak returned to the room and found me standing there with my pants around my thighs and my privates exposed. I’d seen their cocks and balls a few times, but I didn’t want them seeing mine, not in the dining room and with not a bondage knot in sight. I tried to pull up my pants with my free hand, desperate to cover up. He slapped it away.

Keeping hold of my arm, he presented his face to mine again. “Am I going to have to speak to you again about your attitude?”

“No.”

“No?” His eyebrows once again shaped into question marks.

My throat felt like it had a cricket ball lodged in it, but I managed to force two words past the obstruction, and probably not the ones he’d been expecting. “No, sir.” I simply didn’t know what else to say.
Daddy
seemed inappropriate because at that moment in time I felt no affection for him, and I suspected he felt none for me. I had tested him too far, and him me. Cold respect seemed the best response to what felt like cold authority. He didn’t protest the address as Dick had done when I had used it.

He let go of my arm. “Cover yourself.”

I hauled up my pants and jogger jeans. Evil things. They weren’t going to make it back into my wardrobe. They were going in a charity bag.

Grasping my chin, he tilted my head up, forcing me to look at him. “No one asked or expected you to clear up, but you can damn well do it as punishment for your ill grace. Leave so much as a stray crumb on this table and I’ll strip you naked and I’ll whip you from shoulders to ankles in front of the assembled gathering.”

He swept out of the room. Pulling a chair out from under the table I dropped down on it. There was so much adrenaline running through my body I felt out of breath, as if I’d run a marathon. “Hard bastard fucking pig.” I covered my face with my hands, spurting saline and snot onto the palms. I wanted to go home, but what home? A home that no longer existed, a home I could never return to. “Idiot!” I chastised myself. Snatching a napkin off the table I wiped my hands and face on it.

Standing up, I began to stack soup bowls together. I felt weak, shaken by Shane’s harsh treatment. Dick is fond of saying I’ve never experienced the full extent of Shane’s hard side. It wasn’t just Shane though. They were both getting increasingly tough on me. I’d lost my puppy appeal and they felt no need or desire to be gentle.

I cleared the dining room table and made sure it was pristine. I didn’t really believe Shane would carry out his brutal threat to strip and whip me, but then I’d never really believed he would punish me in front of Leo. Our relationship was clearly progressing into new territory; it had been for a while, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it, or, another uncomfortable thought, if I wanted to.

Returning to the kitchen, I turned on the radio before making a start on washing up. The station was playing a nice safe middle of the road mix of traditional carols and festive pop tunes. Nice and safe until The Vienna Boys’ Choir struck up and began to sing ‘Silent Night.’ It sent me racing down memory lane to Christmas past yet again. I was beginning to feel as haunted as poor old Ebenezer. Things I’d stuffed to the back of my mind were creeping forward like items in an over filled cupboard, pushing at the doors.

I was eight and due to sing my first solo at the Children’s Mass on Christmas Eve, well not exactly solo. Fellow choirboy Simon Thompson and I were sharing the honour. We were each to sing a verse of ‘Silent Night’ and then duet on the final one. We weren’t exactly Vienna Boys, but we sounded well enough at our practice sessions.

Other books

The Publisher by Alan Brinkley
On the riverside of promise by Vasileios Kalampakas
Curse of the Spider King by Wayne Thomas Batson, Christopher Hopper
Remote Consequences by Kerri Nelson
Ten Thousand Words by Kelli Jean
Turf or Stone by Evans, Margiad
Words of Fire by Beverly Guy-Sheftall