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Shino had served the Blanchett family for years, but he was hardly familiar with the servants' quarters. He lived in the forest, only really venturing onto the castle grounds when he needed to report to the Lord or Lady Blanchett. Or to see Heathcliff. Even during his short tenure as a gardener, he had kept mainly to the greenhouses and storage sheds. Besides, the Blanchetts employed dozens upon dozens of servants—Shino was good with directions, but even he couldn’t have mapped out all of the castle’s countless storerooms and twisting service corridors.
As best he could tell, they were in a storage closet attached to one of the guardhouses that dotted the estate. It was small and dark, with unadorned stone walls and a floor of rough planks. Aside from a stack of old wooden crates in the corner and the chair on which he sat, the room was empty. Shino glanced around, trying to take stock of the situation. His memory was fuzzy, but functional. There had been a fight. Someone brought him here. Someone else was here. He was jolted fully awake by a sharp pain in his wrist. A tall man in uniform bearing the Blanchett’s crest knelt at his side, tying Shino’s arms down at his sides. Shino gave an experimental jerk and found that his legs were already lashed to the base of the chair.
The man fixed him with a hard glare. “Shut up and sit still,” he barked.
Shino steadied his breath, struggling to piece together the situation. A fight with one of the servants. A man with sharp eyes and a cruel gaze. He slowly put the face to a name: it was the castle’s quartermaster. He hadn’t known of the man’s lofty title at the time, but it wouldn't have stopped him.
---
It happened in the courtyard, just past noon. The Lord and Lady Blanchett may have been away on business, but Heathcliff was no less diligent in his studies. When the hottest part of the day had passed, he went out into the tree-lined courtyard to practice fencing with an instructor. Shino couldn’t believe his luck. His duties took him by the castle grounds rarely enough as is; to be able to catch a glimpse of Heathcliff’s training was more than he could’ve hoped for.
He watched for longer than he should’ve, his chores forgotten. Heath had such perfect form. His simple training clothes only served to highlight the natural grace of his slight figure. Heathcliff looked like a painting, Shino thought. Or a statue carved from the finest marble. He was handsome and charming and elegant all at once.
But Shino wasn’t the only one looking. That’s how it started. A servant passed—Shino now knew him as the quartermaster—and stopped for a moment to stare, then gave a low whistle.
Now there’s a fine piece of ass.
Shino had grown out of petty fights with the other servants that plagued him as a child. But that didn't mean he’d forgotten how to throw a punch. The man was assaulting the Blanchett family’s honor. So Shino hit him, and then hit him again. The quartermaster was tall and stocky, but he wasn’t half a match for Shino’s agility. Things might have gotten out of hand if the guard-captain hadn’t come around: A big, broad-shouldered man who had likely seen more battlefields than Shino had birthdays. The two were pried apart and shortly dismissed.
The trek back to his cabin in the forest did little to stay his anger. Shino kicked off his boots and sat down heavily on the bed. Such disrespect among the Blanchett family’s servants could not be tolerated. He curled his hands into fists, remembering the man’s wolfish eyes leering at his master. Just hitting him wasn’t enough. When the Lord and Lady returned, he would tell them all about it. It was the last thought he had before drifting off to sleep.
He woke to a knife at his throat.
---
The quartermaster tied a final knot with a jerk and stepped back to examine his handiwork. Slowly, Shino pieced together his memories of that evening. A shadowy figure had attacked him in his sleep, covering his face with a bitter-scented cloth that left his senses dulled and his limbs unwilling to cooperate. He recalled a stumbling trek through the forest along a familiar path. And now they were here, face to face once more on the castle grounds.
“You’re pathetic,” Shino spat. “You don’t deserve to serve them. When Lord Blanchett finds—”
His speech was cut off abruptly; the quartermaster stuffed an old rag in his mouth, tying it around the back of his head for good measure.
“That’s enough out of you. Can’t have you piping up and ruining it.”
Shino frowned, trying to understand what the man had planned. He began to hear noises from outside, the muffled sounds of footsteps and voices clamoring in low excitement. The quartermaster laughed. “I’ve seen how you act,” he said. “Think you’re untouchable, just because you’ve got a hard-on for the young master? Just because Mister and Missus toss you scraps off the table every now and then?”
He paused for a moment, casting a glance at the door before continuing. “It’s time somebody taught you a lesson. You’re not any better than the rest of us.”
The sounds from outside grew louder all at once. Whoever it was must’ve been right outside the guardhouse proper. The quartermaster heard it too, trading his insults for a silent, wicked grin. Shino braced in his seat. He thought the man might beat him, or steal from him, or try to wring out some humiliating secret. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d crossed another one of the servants. But what happened next was unexpected.
The quartermaster crossed the narrow closet, opened the door a little less than halfway, and returned to sit on one of the old crates.
Shino narrowed his eyes. His seat in the closet was just poised to afford a view through the crack in the door. What he saw was nothing of consequence: It was a plain sort of staging room for the castle’s guardsmen. Weaponry and armor hung from hooks in the stone wall, and a couple of crates not unlike the quartermaster’s were strewn about here and there. At the center was a low oak table and a few mismatched chairs.
The quartermaster leaned back in his seat. “Be good and we’ll let you both live,” he said, crossing his arms and fixing his gaze on the door.
It wasn’t clear what he meant. There was no one else in the room, and the quartermaster didn’t seem intent on hurting him in the first place. Surely, Shino reasoned, this was meant as revenge for what happened that afternoon. But the quartermaster had said both—it didn’t make sense. It had been a fight between the two of them, no one else besides the captain had been involved.
Shino’s thoughts were interrupted by the heavy creak of the guardhouse door.
Heathcliff Blanchett stumbled into the room.
His wrists were bound behind him with rope; there were red marks mottling his skin where he must’ve struggled. He was still wearing his nightclothes. Shino kicked his feet against the restraints as hard as he could. It was a reflex, more than anything. Every muscle in his body cried out, screaming for him to move.
Heathcliff tripped through the doorway, nearly losing his footing on the rough planks. A man caught him by the shoulder, roughly steering him towards the center of the room. As they stepped into the light, Shino recognized the guard-captain who broke up the fight that afternoon, followed by nine or ten other men. The room was filled, and the door closed, locked, and barred.
Shino felt his pulse quicken. Already he was struggling for each labored breath, panting hard through the gag. The quartermaster’s warning echoed in his mind. We’ll let you both live. His fear turned to cold panic. They were going to hurt him. They were going to do something horrible.
Through the crack in the door, he watched as the guard-captain roughly lifted Heathcliff up and tossed him down onto the low table. Heathcliff struggled and jerked, making his way up onto his knees. Shino felt the last of his composure drain away, shaking with anger. Heath’s face was red and scratched. His hair was mused. Tears pooled in his wide, frightened eyes. Against the rough grime of the room, he was the picture of fragile innocence, surrounded by the crowd of guardsmen like a sheep amongst wolves.
Shino gathered his willpower and forced himself to breathe. He needed to come up with a plan. The guardhouse was well lit, with several lanterns providing a bright, steady glow. The closet, by contrast, was dark. Unless they knew what they were looking for, the men in the other room wouldn’t know anyone lay beyond the half-open door. He could have the element of surprise, if he managed to overpower the quartermaster quietly. But he needed a way to undo his bindings, fast.
The quartermaster lay a hand on his neck. “You shut up and sit still,” he warned, voice barely above a whisper, “Or I promise you it’ll be worse.”
If the guardsmen had any idea they were being observed, they didn’t show it. Wandering hands tugged at Heathcliff’s nightclothes, pulling and tearing the delicate silk until there was scarcely anything left. His protests were clearly audible even through the gag, cries that built in pitch the more he was violated. There were nearly a dozen men all told, all watching and jeering like a crowd waiting on a performer. Before long, the moment came. The guard-captain stepped up and addressed the room with booming authority.
“You lot work harder than anyone else in the castle. It’s been a lot of long, hard nights on the job these past few weeks. And hard work deserves a reward, don’t it?” He paused for a moment, nodded in response to the men’s cheers. “Lord and Lady ain’t the only ones who get to take a night off. And just our luck, we’ve got young master Blanchett here to help us unwind!” Then he leaned in to address Heathcliff, his voice taking on a mocking imitation of a comforting tone. “It’ll be over soon,” he purred, reaching out to run a rough hand along Heathcliff’s chin. “We won’t hurt you too bad, promise.”
The men burst into a clamor of jeers and shouts as it began. The guard-captain forced Heathcliff onto his hands and knees on the low table, then circled around to stand at his back. Heathcliff’s whole body shook, his skin flushed red from shame. Shino smoldered with anger. Heathcliff was too timid to correct the servants when they brought him the wrong tea-tray. He wore a long overcoat even in summer, too shy to bare his arms in public. Now he lay on his hands and knees, completely helpless before the crowd. Shino felt his throat close as he watched the scene play out. He knew exactly what was going to happen, but his mind couldn't accept it. Every second was a fresh horror. The guard-captain undoing the buttons of his trousers. Putting a hand on Heathcliff’s hips. Spitting into the other, and giving his hard cock a few quick strokes. Then nothing. Shino closed his eyes and jerked as hard as he could against the ropes, not minding the quartermaster’s arm around his neck in response. He couldn’t watch this. He would rather die. The quartermaster tightened his grip, but Shino refused to open his eyes.
It didn’t stop him from hearing it. There was a muffled, high cry, then the sound of a struggle. Laughter from the guardsmen, more jeers. Then the tell-tale slap of skin against skin. When Shino opened his eyes, he was met with a scene worse than anything he could have imagined.
The guard-captain was fucking him mercilessly with deep, graceless thrusts. Heathcliff had collapsed against the table, his hips held up only by the man’s vicious grip. All around, the guardsmen watched with greedy eyes. Some merely looked on, shuffling and jostling each other with an air of impatience. A few didn’t care to wait, undoing belt-buckles and buttons to take their own pleasure at the scene.
It was over quickly. That was the only mercy. The guardsman pulled out with a jerk of his hips and let Heathcliff fall forward against the table. He lay still, not daring to move.
Shino held onto some faint, delusional hope that that would be all. The guard-captain had used him, Shino had been made to watch. Whatever sick, torturous revenge they intended had been done. But just as soon as the captain stepped back, another man pushed forward to take his place and began undoing the buttons on his pants. Heathcliff heard the sound, and began struggling against his restraints again.
The captain laughed. “What’s the matter with you? Never taken a man’s cock before?” He waited a moment before continuing, as if Heathcliff could offer a reply beyond a muted sob. “Shut up— You may be the little prince upstairs, but we’re the ones in charge down here.”
The man next to him snickered; Shino recognized his livery as that of the castle’s stablehands. “Don’t be so sure he’s not enjoying it,” he said. “It’s the shy types that really surprise you.”
Shino grit his teeth, burning the man’s face into his mind. He’d kill him. All of them.
Beyond the door, the captain was running a hand down Heathcliff’s side, tracing the delicate curves of his boyish body as he called out in a mocking tone. “Blushing so much, could it be that you’re a virgin? Or rather, were a virgin, I should say.” Then he smiled as if he’d just gotten an idea. “Hard to believe, with a pretty face like that,” he continued. He leaned in, the size of his own well-muscled body dwarfing Heathcliff’s slim frame. “Say, don’t you want this to be over?”
The rags in his mouth muffled a whimper; Shino could see Heathcliff give a weak, shivering nod.
The captain grinned. “Once all of the men have had a go, we’ll let you off. Get there a lot faster using both holes, won’t we?” He reached forward, pulling Heathcliff up to rest awkwardly on his still-tied forearms. “How’s that sound?”
Heathcliff squeezed his eyes shut tight, but it wasn’t enough to stop tears from rolling down his flushed face. They dripped down to mix with the puddle of sweat and filth that he lay in. He shook his head, futilely trying to shrink back.
“You’ll be a good boy, won’t you?” The captain ran a hand through Heathcliff’s hair, then grabbed him by the chin. “No biting.”
He made a gesture; a man stepped forward and untied the cloth gag. Heathcliff coughed and spat for a moment, gasping for air. Shino froze in place, waiting. Heath would say something, threaten to call his father. He would scream for help. Anything.
Nothing came. Shino watched as the captain undid his pants a second time. He was already half hard, and only bothered to give himself a few cursory strokes before pressing his flushed tip against Heathcliff’s bruised, red lips. Then he pushed himself in. Heath’s eyes went wide; Shino heard a strangled cry. The captain didn’t stop until Heathcliff’s mouth was flush against his hips. Then, both hands on Heathcliff’s head, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming his thick length back in fully. Heathcliff was left without time enough to even gasp for breath. His gags and muffled moans only seemed to deepen the captain’s pleasure; he grunted and cursed under his breath, the sounds lost in the haze of the room.
Once the captain had settled into a steady pace, the guardsman took up his position at Heathcliff’s hips once more. His pale thighs were already slick with sweat and forced apart; the man wasted no time in preparation. He forced himself into Heathcliff just as the captain had done with his throat. The two of them fell into a merciless rhythm, driving him back and forth in turn. Heathcliff couldn’t have moved if he tried. Struggling against the cock fucking his throat only drove the man at his back deeper inside. His body moved on its own, held up only by the two men using him as a toy.
The quartermaster forced him to keep his face forward, but Shino couldn’t bear to watch. His eyes darted around the room, scanning the crowd. Some of them were men Shino recognized, people he would have called loyal servants to the Blanchett family. None looked on with an ounce of mercy.
Shino could no longer hear Heathcliff’s muffled cries. The guard-captain fucked his throat deep and hard, his thrusts speeding up and falling out of rhythm as he approached his climax. He pulled out just before finishing, splattering a thick white mess over Heathcliff’s face and still-open mouth. Heathcliff remained still, unable to clean himself off even if he dared.
“You wasted your chance,” called a teasing voice from the crowd. “Got Heathcliff Blanchett sucking your cock, and don’t even bother to make him swallow. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Shino watched the man busy himself with his belt as he moved to stand at the edge of the table. What he heard next made his blood run cold.
“P-Please, don’t...”
It was Heathcliff. His high voice was now ragged and halting. Shino held his breath.
“It hurts— please... Anything else...”
The captain shot him a warning look. “I won’t tell you again. You’ll do exactly as I say, or it’ll be your little wizard friend taking your place.” He grabbed Heathcliff by the chin and forced him to look up. “Is that what you want?”
Heathcliff choked back a sob. “Please, don’t— Don’t—” He squeezed his eyes shut before continuing. “Don’t hurt him... You— You can do what you want with me, just please—”
His pleading was cut off with a strangled yelp; The man at his back had picked up in earnest, filling the room with a filthy, rhythmic slapping. Heathcliff’s arms almost buckled beneath him as he struggled to take it, back arching.
The captain crossed his arms, looking over the scene with careful amusement. “If you want it so badly,” he said, savoring each word, “Then beg for it.”
Heathcliff coughed and choked. Each thrust from behind knocked the breath from him, leaving him unable to reply. At the captain's gesture, the man pulled out, letting Heathcliff fall to the table. The captain grabbed him by the neck. “Beg for it,” he growled, “Or you’ll never see your wizard friend again.”
He let go, and Heathcliff let his head drop.
“Please— Use me—”
The captain brought his gloved hand down hard across Heathcliff’s face.
"Show some respect— You aren’t better than any of us, boy.”
“Sir—” Heathcliff broke off for a moment in a fit of choking coughs. “I’m sorry! P-Please use me, sir—”
It wasn’t enough. The captain took a fistful of Heathcliff’s silky blonde hair and pulled, hard enough to lift him up off of the table. “What are you?” he spat. “Say it.”
Heathcliff’s eyes were wet and glossy with tears, either from pain or shame. He hesitated, unwilling to lift his gaze from the floor. The captain tightened his grip on Heathcliff’s hair and readied his other hand as if to deliver another blow.
“I’m— I’m a whore...”
“Again. Beg.”
“I’m j-just a whore sir— Please, fuck me—”
Finally satisfied, the captain let him fall back to the table. Heath didn’t make a sound, but Shino could see his body shaking. Spurred on by the display, the men were eager to continue. The next man stepped forward to take his place at Heathcliff’s mouth, but the captain held up a hand.
“Since you’re so eager to please,” he said, “How about you show us what you can do with your hands? A good whore wouldn’t want to keep any of us waiting.”
His statement was met with whistling and hooting from the men; Heathcliff looked up with wide, fearful eyes. “M-my hands?”
The stablehand made a crude jerking gesture.
Heathcliff didn’t have time to protest; The captain lifted him up and turned him over in one rough movement. Heathcliff lay on his back against the rough wood of the table with his hands still bound in front of him at the wrists. His pale stomach was smeared with semen and slick with oil and sweat and spit. Angry red bruises had already begun to form along his hips and thighs.
Shino’s vision swam. They made him dirty. Heath, who was pretty and clean, and always smelled like flowers. They used him. They hit him. Shino choked back a sob, feeling sick. Heathcliff meant more to him than anything. Heath was perfect. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t happen. Shino tried to look away, but the quartermaster pulled his head back up with one hand and placed the other on the dagger at his waist.
“You’ll watch it all,” he hissed.
A guardsman handed the captain a knife, which he used to cut the ties on Heathcliff’s wrists. Shino held his breath, clinging to desperate hope. Heath might fight back now. He could run, make it to the door and scream for help in the courtyard. But when the ropes were cut and Heathcliff finally found his wrists free, he lay just as still as before.
“Go on then,” the captain ordered.
He didn’t have to ask twice; Heathcliff didn’t hesitate. With shaking hands, he reached out and wrapped his fingers round the man’s cock. Then he began to service him with unsteady strokes. Shino fought off a wave of nausea. Heath’s fingers were delicate and pretty, made for pouring tea and adjusting fine clockwork. Not this. Not any of this.
He bit back a scream; the quartermaster struck him. The sound echoed through the crack in the door.
“Did you hear something?” A voice sounded from the guardroom.
The captain looked around for a moment, then shook his head. He wasn’t pleased to be interrupted. “Half the castle’s out with the Lord and Lady at the capital ‘til tomorrow,” he said. “And anyone who can get in the guardroom is already here. We won’t be interrupted.” His voice, cocky and assured, left no room for argument. Someone pushed forward and took up at Heathcliff’s other hand, and noise once again filled the guardhouse as the men jostled to be next in line. One man, however—a little younger than the rest, closer to Heathcliff’s own age—hung back.
“Boss,” he began. “...Are you really sure about this? I mean, if he told Lord Blanchett, we’d—”
“Told Lord Blanchett?” the captain replied, incredulous. He barked out a harsh laugh, spitting on the ground for good measure. “Told him what? How much of a slut his precious son is? How well he takes a man’s cock?”
A few of those around him laughed, and the captain continued. “Blushes like a virgin, but bend him over a table and he fucks like a whore. Besides,” he said, tossing a nod in Heathcliff’s direction. “Look at that— he’s not half as prudish as he looks. He’d have to tell Lord Blanchett how many times he came.”
Shino followed the gesture with his eyes in spite of himself. Heathcliff lay on his back with his legs forced up over his head. Nothing remained of his bindings. It didn’t matter. The man at his back held him firmly with one hand at the waist, with the other digging into Heathcliff’s thigh hard enough to leave marks. His thrusts were rough and careless, occasionally jerking so hard as to wring a muffled cry from Heathcliff. The stablehand was back at his front, fucking Heathcliff’s throat as if it were his own personal cocksleeve. He had a gloved hand tangled up in Heathcliff’s hair, all slick and half-matted with sweat and come. Shino tried not to see what the captain had been referring to, but it was plainly obvious. Heathcliff’s cock was flushed and swollen, with pearly rivulets of precum threatening to drip down and soil his stomach.
The captain laughed. “Look at that,” he repeated. “He gets off to it. Gonna cum for us like a good little whore?”
Heathcliff couldn’t reply. The captain tugged off a glove and wrapped his large hand around Heathcliff’s cock; he arched his back at the touch and began weakly bucking his hips up as if he were desperate for more. Shino heard his whines growing higher and faster as the captain stroked him. It was a wanton, shameless noise.
Heathcliff’s shy modesty had been completely worn away. He was eager to please, to be used. The fervor of the crowd reached a peak, drowning the room in noise and chaos. Heathcliff served them however he could. When one man finished, another took his place. Sounding high above it all the desperate begging and moaning of a shy young boy completely lost to pleasure.
Shino’s vision swam. His breaths came hard and fast through the cloth in his mouth, but he couldn't get enough air—for a moment, he felt as if he might faint. He wished he would. He could wake up somewhere else, this whole nightmare forgotten.
After a moment, his choking and struggling finally paid off: the gag finally loosened and came undone. Shino spat it out, desperate for the rush cool air that followed. Once he caught his breath, he turned to the quartermaster, not caring what punishment lay in store.
“I’ll kill you. The second I get free.” His voice was hoarse and low from disuse, his throat dry. “You’re— You’re sick. I’ll kill you.”
Shino’s threats had little effect on the quartermaster. He only smiled and replied in a voice barely above a whisper. “Are you in such a hurry? Can you honestly tell me you don’t want to watch the show?” He cast a glance at the ropes that secured Shino to the chair. “I suppose like this, you can’t truly enjoy yourself, but I don’t think there’s anyone in this castle who wouldn’t jump at the chance to see Heathcliff Blanchett on his knees.”
Shino tried to ignore him, focusing instead on the ropes that held him down. If he could just get an arm free, he might stand a chance. The quartermaster was bigger, but Shino was fast. He could get his knife, kill him, and save Heath. Nothing else mattered.
The quartermaster watched Shino struggle, unconcerned. Then something in particular caught his eye. His smile deepened to a cruel smirk.
“Shino,” he cooed. “There’s no need to put on an act. You’re free to watch as long as you like. It feels good, doesn’t it?” He moved closer and reached down to run a hand along Shino’s thigh. Then further up, to the growing bulge in Shino’s pants.
Shino squirmed in his seat, unable to resist. “No,” he choked. “No, it— Stop—”
The quartermaster gave a quiet laugh. He began to rub Shino’s cock through his clothes. “You’re a little brat,” he whispered. “But at least your body’s honest.”
Shino choked and struggled, his voice rising; the quartermaster clapped his hand tightly over his mouth. “Scream and they’ll hear you,” he hissed. “If you make a sound, everyone in that room will know you’re here. He’ll know you were here the entire time.”
Shino’s cries died in his throat.
Heath would know. Heath would know that Shino couldn’t protect him. That he saw all of it and did nothing. Burning up with shame, Shino squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. He would rather die. Whatever torture this man intended for him, he would bear it silently. Even this.
Satisfied, the quartermaster once more let his hands wander to Shino’s waist. It only took a few minutes before Shino was fully hard, his cock straining against the rough fabric of his pants. It was becoming difficult to stay quiet. Each stroke and gentle squeeze sent shivers through his entire body.
Shino fought back tears. It felt so good. He didn’t understand—he hated it, but that unbearable heat kept pooling in his stomach. He couldn’t control himself any longer. From the room, the sound of skin hitting skin mixed with Heathcliff’s high, wanton cries. Even with his eyes closed, Shino could picture all of it. Heathcliff on his hands and knees, back arching as his ass was stuffed full. Turned over with his head tipped back, his pale throat nearly bulging as a man fucked his face. His delicate, slim fingers wrapped around a cock.
It was too much.
Shino clenched his teeth, trying not to give in, but his body betrayed him. White-hot pleasure coursed through him as he came. The quartermaster milked him through it, rubbing and squeezing even as Shino’s body shook with the force of his climax.
When Shino came to his senses, the shame of what he’d done was overwhelming. Tears ran down his face freely, dripping down and mixing with the spit that already dampened the front of his shirt.
The quartermaster gave a quiet, cruel laugh. “You’re so pathetic,” he said. “Even more of a whore than your lord, it seems.”
Shino could scarcely hear the man’s insults. His ears rang. He felt outside of himself, as if he were watching it all happen from up in the rafters. Shino leaned into the feeling, guided on by a desperate prayer that it had all been a bad dream.
The main room was quieter now, the fervor drawing to a close as the men grew bored of their game. Before long, only the Heathcliff and the guard-captain remained.
Shino heard the man saying something, something about Lord Blanchett, about what would happen to Heathcliff if he told. He couldn’t bring himself to listen. Disgust, shame, and hatred churned inside him, clouding his mind with a feeling far beyond nausea. Then it was completely quiet.
He wasn’t sure when the quartermaster left—by the time Shino found the strength to raise his head, the man was gone. He had left a dull-looking knife on the crate, just within arm’s reach.
If he got one arm free, he could undo the ropes, however long it took. From the strip of dim blue moonlight visible under the guardhouse door, Shino could tell that it was still night. He could keep to the shadows as he passed by the castle, where the stately lines of windows looked down onto the path. With any luck Heathcliff wouldn’t see him as he stumbled out into the woods towards home.