The Low Road (12 page)

I felt fingers at my backside; the Viking and the shaven-headed man had finally joined the party, and with thick, dirty fingers were probing my hole. Instead of turning on my heel and running, naked as I was, out into the freezing night, I spread my legs a little wider to improve their access. It was a long time since anything other than my own finger had touched me there, and it felt good. The alcohol had numbed me to anything other than physical sensation. Somehow, the idea of being used by this group of big, brawny men appealed hugely. We would be an army of lovers - like the Spartans, I thought.

Davie took his brother's place in my mouth; his cock I could comfortably accommodate, and I practised on him all the skills that I had learned on Alexander. Rough hands were holding my buttocks apart; Johnnie had disappeared from my line of vision. I knew what was coming, and I was too stupid to avoid it.

The pain of his entry made me black out for a moment. When I came to, I was scarcely aware of my surroundings; the buzzing in my head was so confusing. Gradually I became aware of two things: the cock moving in my mouth, and the other, bigger, cock moving in my arse. I looked up and saw Davie taking a long swig from the whisky bottle; he dribbled a good deal down his lean brown stomach, and it mingled in my mouth with the taste of his cock. Johnnie was ploughing slowly, steadily away inside my arse; thank God I had been thoroughly fucked by Alexander, otherwise
I think I would have died from the pain. I knew better, though; instead of tensing, trying to force him out of me, I concentrated wholeheartedly on relaxing. The pain didn't go, but it levelled off into a bearable discomfort.

Davie pulled out of my mouth and, pulling my head back by the hair, shot a big, salty load of come into my face. His place was taken by the shaven-headed man, whose hard cock slipped straight down my throat and continued to pump me from that end. Johnnie, meanwhile, had picked up the pace of his fucking; I reached round and felt his huge balls pulled up tight against his body and I knew that he would come soon. In order to speed up the process and rid me of that giant intruder, I started wiggling my arse, tensing the muscles inside me to increase his pleasure.

‘Look at the little fucker, lads,' said Johnnie, ‘he's got a hot tail on him, that's for sure. Look at him wriggling that little pussy around my cock. Oh, Christ...' He thrust harder, harder - and then, when I could take no more, buried himself deep inside me and shot his load. The shaven-headed man, inspired by his friend's efforts, came copiously in my mouth, then pulled out, held my mouth shut, pinched my nose and forced me to swallow. At last, I was free, but not for long. Another cock - the huge, pale weapon of the Viking, rising straight from a bald, shaven crotch - loomed into my face. Without resisting, I let my mouth drop open. He didn't even care whether I sucked him or not, he simply fucked my mouth as if he was masturbating into me. Jamie, the ringleader, had stripped himself naked and was biding his time, fingering my sore arse until the Viking had finished off. It didn't take long. Now there was only one to go. I opened my mouth to take Jamie's prick - not as big as his brother's, I noticed with some relief, but a handsome piece nonetheless. But he had other ideas.

Pulling me upright, he cleared one of the tables with a sweep of his hand, lay down on top of it and motioned to his brother. Johnnie picked me up as if I weighed nothing, pulled my legs apart
and lowered me on to Jamie's dick, which he was holding erect in readiness. I sat down and it was buried inside me.

In this position, at least, I had some control over the fucking. Davie took another swig of whisky and handed me the bottle; I was glad of it. Kneeling, and resting back on my heels, I started to move myself up and down on Jamie's cock. To my eternal shame, I began to enjoy myself. The sight of the four spent men, lying in attitudes of abandon around us, filled me with a certain pride; I had satisfied them. Jamie's cock felt good stirring around in my guts. I had remained flaccid throughout my previous ordeal, but now, as the head of his prick battered the sensitive spots inside me, my cock was hard and drooling like a baby.

Shifting my position slightly, I changed my movement from up-and-down to backwards-and-forwards, shunting myself around on my knees. Jamie reached forward and gripped my cock, scooped up the sticky fluid that was spilling out of it and brought his fingers to his mouth. The other men, lazily watching my whorish antics, were already becoming hard again, ready to take advantage of my eagerness. Finally, when I felt that Jamie was ready to come, I hoisted myself up off my knees, rested my weight on the balls of my feet and rode him as hard as I could. As he squirted another load inside my arsehole, I came all over his hairy belly.

I was sweating, drunk as a lord, and very pleased with myself. I was ready to take them all on again. Jamie was looking up at me and laughing. The other brothers were stiff and ready for me.

I felt a hand slip round me from the back and catch me by the waist, another clamped over my mouth. There was a whoosh, a cracking noise in my head, and I knew no more.

Dearest Charles

 

 

 

Unexpectedly I find myself able once again to write to you. For the blessing of pen and paper, and the unspeakable relief of unburdening my heart in a letter, I have to thank my only friend in this foul prison, the young guard of whom I told you. Do not judge him (or me) too harshly. We have used each other for our own ends, and come to an understanding in the process.

I send this to Gordon House uncertain whether it will ever reach you. If you have taken my advice, you and your mother will by now be far beyond harm's reach. Perhaps a loyal servant or friend will find this letter and forward it to you. Perhaps it will never reach you; that, after all, might be for the best. I cannot help hoping in my weaker moments that you stayed at Gordon House to face the danger, only so that I could picture you there reading my letter and - dare I hope? - thinking more kindly of me than was your habit.

The cell which has been my home these last weeks is approximately eight feet by eight feet, enough for me to lie down on the straw mattress. The ceiling is six feet high, the only place where I can stand upright. And yet, despite my cramped circumstances, I contrive to keep myself fit and well.
The bars on the small, square window serve as a rudimentary gymnasium, and I force myself every hour to exercise my arm and leg muscles by hanging from them. I exercise as well on the cell floor, raising and lowering the weight of my own body by the strength of my arms and my abdominal muscles, and run on the spot for half-hours at a time in order to prevent myself from falling into lethargy and despair. That is my greatest terror. I hear the cries of some of the poor souls elsewhere in the prison, those who have lost hope and reason. God preserve me from that fate.

I do not know what end awaits me. The fact that I have been here for so long gives me hope; an immediate execution is what I expected, and the passing of every day seems to take me further and further from a sudden end. But I do not entertain vain hopes; I know too well that politics can turn on a sixpence. My life could end tomorrow.

I would not, however, die altogether unhappy. I have found a kind of peace here in my cell; a resignation and an understanding. Charles, many times we read the works of the ancient philosophers together. Now, perhaps, I begin to understand their meaning.

The single light in my darkness is the regard I bear for you. Perhaps I did not make it clear to you; I know that your mind was closed against me from the start, as well it might have been. I sent your friend away; I seemed to alienate your mother. I was of necessity hard and cold to you. You could not know that during my short time at Gordon House I came first to like you as an intelligent, personable and spirited young man, then to admire your courage and integrity, and finally to love you. I bit my tongue, preferring duty to happiness. I do not regret it. I would not have burdened you with the additional, unwanted responsibility of my love. You have enough on your plate. But now I regard my feelings for you as the one pure thing in a life that has been otherwise sullied by compromise and dishonesty. I hope you will not despise its memory.

Throughout my youth I fought against impulses towards my fellow man. My many friends - students at the university, mostly - never guessed that I harboured physical desires towards them. I rejoiced in the Platonic, fooling myself that a healthy friendship with these athletes and scholars was all I desired. Only once did I let myself go further, with the brother of a friend during one long, hot summer party at their family home outside Paris. He was a little older than me; I was perhaps your age at the time. He took me on a long walk through the woods and fields that bordered the estate, and, in the shade of an oak grove, introduced me to the physical side of life. We never discussed it afterwards, and I swore it would never happen again.

It was only when I came to Gordon Hall that I realised the error of my ways. A marriage had been arranged for me at home; if ever I returned a hero, I was quickly to become a husband. The girl was the daughter of a neighbour, of good family, a friend since childhood. I am thankful now that I spared her the heartbreak of a marriage contracted under false pretences. When I met you, Charles, and discovered the nature of your friendship with Alexander, I realised that I was fighting my own true nature for nothing. I swear that I did not send him away out of spite; he would undoubtedly have been captured and punished if the redcoats had found him. MacFarlane, who betrayed him to me, would have betrayed him to them for the same coin.

MacFarlane spared me no detail of what he had seen and heard through your bedroom window. He was a wise man in his way, and I have no doubt that he detected in me an interest over and above the purely professional. He as good as told me so, and offered to arrange things between you and me for a further consideration. I, of course, pretended not to understand him. But I could not rid myself of the image of you naked in Alexander's arms. When we swam together in the loch, I was shaking with
fear and anxiety as much as from the cold water. I could not trust myself. I had to give up swimming in order not to betray myself.

But I could not stop my imagination, try as I might. I started to dream about you. Our lessons became torture to me. I was glad when you put an end to them; the effort it took not to reach out and touch your hand was exhausting to me. But separation made things worse, and I was haunted by my feelings for you. While I should have been concentrating on my mission in Scotland, assisting your countrymen in their escape to France, I was wandering around the countryside in a daze. As the summer wore on, I was no longer able to sleep. I could gain a few hours' respite by masturbating, holding your image before me at every stroke. When I suspected that you had witnessed one of these episodes, I was ashamed. Now I am glad It is the nearest we will ever come to the complete union that I so desperately long for.

There is little else to say. I hope, Charles, to be able to let you know what happens to me, but I promise I will never press an unwanted suit on you. My friend, the prison guard, has promised to supply me with paper and pen for as long as he can. I saw him one day spying on me through the bars on my door, pressing his face against them as I completed my exercises. I was sweating, and consequently stripped naked, trying to keep my clothes as dry as possible. He beckoned to me, and I went to the door, expecting him to come in and resume our relations on the cell floor. He said, however, that he was scared to open the door, and finally persuaded me to hoist myself up on some broken brickwork and stick myself through the bars. The sound of his lips slurping and smacking around my stiff cock echoed off the cell walls. It did not take long for me to come; something in the novelty of the situation, degrading as it was, pricked me to a state of extreme arousal. The muscles in my arms were bulging and straining as I held on to the bars and pushed myself as far forward as I could. I tried not to cry out when I came. The guard
held me in his mouth and swallowed every drop. I climbed down and rested my sweating forehead against the cool bars, and watched as he pulled his cock out of his uniform trousers and splashed his boots with hot, white sperm.

And so I manage to keep myself provided with pen and paper, as well as rations slightly superior to those I might otherwise expect. Forgive me, Charles, for putting them to so ignoble a use. I do so only in the belief that you will understand me. The desire to unburden myself to a fellow man, suppressed in me for so long, has burst out now that it is too late for me to enjoy it. Take warning from my example.

 

God protect you

BL

I have no idea for how long I was unconscious. When I finally came to I was conscious at first of an unpleasant pitching motion which I attributed to the blow I had received on the head. Gradually I became aware of my other senses: a foul taste in my mouth, a mixture of sour whisky and male flesh; a pain in my head and my arse, both of which had been assaulted by blunt instruments; a peculiar smell in my nostrils, of tar and sweat and something earthy. There was a faint sound of knocking and splashing. Only my eyes could make out nothing. I was surrounded by darkness.

I must have fallen asleep again; when I awoke, a dim grey light enabled me to make out a little of my surroundings. I was lying on a rude cot knocked together from a few planks of wood. A rough blanket covered me. I could discern a few pale squares high above me, through which the light was filtering. I guessed that it was very early in the morning; the light had that weak, smoky quality of a Scottish dawn. By straining my ears, I could make out the sound of breathing or snoring. The gentle rocking continued. My head, by now, was clear. I assumed that I must be on board a ship. I was dreadfully thirsty.