The sun burned onto his back as he was carried back to the manor. He could feel his hard-on pressing against the man's sweaty chest, rubbing up and down against the green khaki shirt with every step. Despite the man's obvious strength and firm grip on Jonathan's body, the boy couldn't dismiss the fear of being dropped. He had been picked up and carried before, but not with his arms and legs tied. He had never felt so vulnerable.
It was a long way back. The man must have been worn out from chasing him, but showed no sign of faltering; his progress was steady. After a few minutes he said to Jonathan “You're quite a sprinter. I bet you did well in the cross country at school. And you did well hiding in the bracken.”
God, how he detested the self-satisfied tone in the man's voice! He had seen this guard before, on night duty patrolling the Manor, but the man had not made much of an impression. Big and strong, yes, but no oil painting with his broken nose and zero-cropped scalp. Too old, anyway; at least forty, maybe more. Big hairy arms but obviously not a gym-goer; Jonathan's knees were resting against the man's belly. He wasn't going to win any beauty contests in a hurry. Not unless Neanderthals were alive and well somewhere and having pageants for Roughest-Looking Brute of the Year...
Despite all of that, his damned hard-on would NOT go down!
“Hey, don't sulk. You are allowed to talk to me, you know.” the guard said, slapping Jonathan's ass sharply.
Jonathan sighed. “How did you find me?”
“You disturbed the local wildlife. Most people wouldn't spot that. Unfortunately for you, I did.”
“I was lying still as death, not making a sound!”
“Animals have keener senses. Especially if you stink of soap, aftershave, shampoo and conditioner! You did good, though. Very determined. What was your prize for reaching the perimeter?”
Oh, rub it in, why don't you. “Sir promised me a bottle of Chablis.” Oh how wonderful that would be now! He could almost see the condensation on the chilled bottle, feel the deliciously cold nectar quenching his thirst beautifully. “That's a type of wine, by the way.”
The man spanked his ass again, harder this time, making Jonathan yelp. “Cheeky little bastard! I'm not some bonehead, you know!”
After what seemed like hours, they came to the Manor. Jonathan heard one of the other guards calling to his captor and the sound of boots running towards them.
“Mick, you lucky bastard, you got him! I don't fucking believe it!”
“Luck's got nothing to do with it, Bog Breath!”
They laughed and the second man followed them up to the South Wing. The guard called Mick put Jonathan down on the lawn and stretched his arms. A couple of boys were tending to the flowerbeds nearby, naked like Jonathan apart from gardening gloves. Mick barked at one of them “Oi, you! Go tell Baron Michael I've caught his little rabbit!”
The boy jumped, but clambered to his feet and nodded. “Y-Yes, Sir.” he said, and disappeared into the house. Nervous idiot; you don't have to call the guards “Sir”.
He felt his cheeks redden as the other boys stared at him in fascination. A few minutes later Baron Michael emerged from the house, a broad grin on his devilishly handsome face.
“Well done, Mick, good catch. And well done to poor Jonathan here, led my man a merry old chase, didn't you, boy?
Jonathan tried to look dignified. “Yes, Sir.”
The Baron looked down at him with a humorous smile. He looked even better from down at boot level. Tall and fit, good-looking, thirty-five but looked younger, with finely-chiselled features that captivated the hearts of boys and girls wherever he went. He was dressed casually but smartly, as always.
The Baron addressed himself to Mick. “Young Jonathan here disappointed me recently when his efforts to clean the Edwardian dining room didn't come up to scratch. And this was not his first failure! I told him what the penalty would be for letting me down, and he begged forgiveness. Being the magnanimous fool that I am, I gave him a chance to redeem himself. I even threw in a prize if he succeed in reaching the perimeter. Oh well, even in failure he can offer me some amusement at least.”
Jonathan wriggled over to the Baron. “Please, Sir, no!” He kissed the Baron's riding boots. “Not that!”
The Baron chuckled and beamed at a puzzled-looking Mick. “The price for failure is to service the guard who catches him.”
Mick whooped and clapped his hands in triumph. Jonathan's heart sank.
The Baron held up his hand. “Not so fast, Mick. Jonathan here isn't the only one to disappoint me recently. You have been late for your shift twice this week. That is not acceptable.”
“Oh. No, sorry, Sir.”
“Still, as I said, I am a magnanimous fool. I do like to give people the opportunity to make amends, but now it is you who must work to win your prize. And it will not be a full servicing.”
Mick frowned, not following. The Baron rubbed his chin, contemplating. Looking around, he saw the second guard (whom Mick had addressed as 'Bog Breath') and said “Terry, how would you like to sample young Jonathan's delicious mouth?”
Terry stepped forward eagerly. “Sir, yes please!” Jonathan saw him for the first time. Mid-twenties, good body, average face but very fit. Not as burly as Mick, but he definitely looked strong. His sleeveless khaki T-shirt showed off nicely toned arms. Mick's arms were thicker but less defined.
Jonathan's spirits lifted. He had also seen Terry around and this one he did like. Unlike the boys, the guards were not chosen for their beauty, only their brawn. Terry had a bit of both, though. Jonathan felt like kissing the Baron's shiny black boots again, this time with gratitude. He decided against it, though.
The Baron laughed. “I'm sure you would. But hold that thought. I think it's about time you and Mick proved to me how capable you are of performing your duties to my satisfaction. Let's see you fight. The winner gets to use the boy.”
The two guards chuckled and nodded to each other. The Baron laughed with them, crouching down to stroke Jonathan's hair. They both watched as the two guards unclipped their equipment belts and threw them aside and peeled off their T-shirts. Terry had a nice toned physique from regular use of the Baron's well-equipped gymnasium. Mick had a broad chest and big arms but a bit of a belly too, and was covered in hair. Together they looked like a Greek god and a gorilla.
Jonathan's mind was in a whirl. Mick was heavier, but was surely still tired from the chase. Terry looked much fitter and was probably stronger. Terry had to win. Didn't he? He had a glint in his eye, but so did Mick. The difference was, Terry looked more amused by the situation, whereas Mick had a steely determined look to him.
Mick stared down at Jonathan hungrily and grinned. The Baron laughed again. “All right, gentlemen, let's keep it short and sweet, I don't have all day. Just one submission. May the best man win!”
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