Richmond
An act of violence echoes through history.
Written by Andrew
2026
“Careful,” Brenda cautioned as Barbara teased the fabric through the dusty gap in the floorboards
“I’ve got it,” Barbara breathed as she eased the coarse cloth free. The cloth expanded in the tongs, exhaling centuries of dust.
She gingerly placed the fabric into a plastic specimen bag, sealed it with a slide and held it to the light.
“What do you think?”
“Hard to say, but it looks like a piece of torn tapestry. Look at the stitching.”
“And the colours,” Brenda added, “dark crimson and bright yellow.”
“Ochre,” Barbara offered, “maybe lead tin.”
“17th century?”
“Could be even 1610. We’ll see what the lab says.”
“Just the colours?”
“Full chemical survey. You never know.”
1615
Thomas watched the footman crossing the yard with his summons to Groves. With his father away, he was acting master in the Ham House again. He looked across the landscape, all under his control for now and, in due course, forever. This time, it would be Groves to get the summons.
Groves had been gardener since Thomas was a boy, though was only 10 years older. The heavy labour and meagre diet made Groves strong and lean. His dark hair flowed over a scowling face with firm features and clear eyes. Thomas has watched him from the first floor apartment many times, hoping that the gardener would look up and see his naked body in the window, his cock throbbing in his hand.
The footman gestured at the house. Groves took off his hat and looked toward the windows. Thomas felt seen, standing by the glass, his hand firmly in his breeches. Groves, hat in hand, walked slowly to the servants’ entrance.
Thomas took his place in the receiving chamber. A tap at the panel in the corner and the door from the hidden passage swung open. Groves entered and the door slid closed with a click.
“Groves,” Thomas said.
‘“Sir,” Groves replied, stepping in, hat in hand and his dark hair falling to his shoulders
“I would have you remove your coat.”
Groves knew resistance was dangerous. He could not lose this position. His family struggled through the bad winter and work was scarce. It was a poor price for him to pay to oblige the young master with his cock on occasion.
Groves tugged off the belt and unbuttoned the thick coat. He let it drop to the side and stood in his shirt.
“Very good, Groves. Now the shirt.”
Groves let a momentary glare pass over his face, but knew the difficulty he was in.
He pulled his sweat-rich shirt from his breeches and drew the long tails over his head and dropped the woollen garment at his feet. He drew his shoulders back, his chest shining and proud. Thomas savoured the breadth of the man, the dark curls on the mounds of his pecs, the trail of thick moist hair down his belly.
“I would have you naked, Groves,” Thomas said with satisfaction.
Groves said nothing but undid the button on his breaches. Two side buttons at his waist and they fell to his knees and let them fall to his knees, his cock and balls fell forward from the confines of his clothes.
Crossing to him, Thomas could smell the rich aroma of sweat and soil. He stood close to the still Groves and breathed in the salty musk. Groves looked ahead impassively.
Thomas slowly circled the near-naked Groves, his eyes feasting on the high rounded cheeks of his arse and the heavy thighs. Thomas lent towards the man, Groves’ aroma filling his senses and his cock.
Thomas slowly descended to his knees. He rested his hands on the greasy breaches as Groves stepped free of them.
He lent forward, his tongue took up Groves’ soft penis and gently caressing his generous foreskin. His mouth circled the thick shaft and gently sucked in the pungent manhood. Groves stood, hands clasped behind, looking forward.
Thomas’ diligence began to pay off as the groundsman’s cock grew harder in his mouth. With long careful sucks, his mouth pulled Goves’ thick cock to full glory. He pressed his face into Groves’ rich pelt, causing the big man to step back and then forward again. Thomas’ mouth and tongue moved faster now and Groves’ chest heaved as his breaths grew quick and shallow and he obliged the young master with spurts of his thick, sweet seed.
“The bed post,” Thomas ordered, standing.
Groves stepped over and bent over for the sodomite. Thomas tugged his breaches and released his cock. He spat on it and rubbed his shaft to glistening. He slid his foreskin back and forth milking precum to grease his cock. He slid his fingers up Groves’ crack and felt his hole pucker open to his touch.
Thomas kicked Groves’ legs further apart, so he was open and low enough for Thomas to enter him.
Groves held the bedpost as Thomas slid his cock inside his arse. He made no sound as his tight hole gripped the young master’s cock. Thomas rested his hands on Groves’ shoulders for better anchorage and drove his cock deep into the man’s thick muscular arse. The heat of his tight hot hole burned into Thomas’ body as he pumped quicker and quicker building to his climax.
Thomas suddenly felt himself pulled back with unstoppable force. A man on each arm, both in rough cloth masks held him fast.
“What the fuck,” he shouted. He looked down at his wet cock throbbing and ready to shoot. But now he burned with indignation.
“Fucking sodomite,” hissed the man on his left.
“Upstart bastard son of a whore” the other said.
They threw Thomas forward onto the bed, his breeches fell and his arse was exposed.
“One bad turn,” the first stranger said, opening his own breeches. “Hold him down.”
Thomas felt the searing pain as the stranger hammered his cock into his arse. His back arched and he cried out.
“He’ll wake the dead with that noise,” the first stranger said. “Tear a piece of that cloth.”
The second stranger did as bid, reaching down to the corner of the tapestry on the wall.
“No, please!” Thomas wailed.
The tapestry gave way to the edge of the second stranger’s dagger, and a slow tearing provided a long strip. He took Thomas’s hands and tied his wrists together, leaning on his shoulder and anchoring the first stranger’s cock in his arse.
The young gentleman looked up, the first stranger’s hand still between his shoulders. He caught the second stranger’s eye through the sack mask. “Fucking whoreson dog,” he sneered.
With a crack, the second stranger slapped Thomas across the face. The sting silenced him. Recovering, Thomas shouted. “You will pay with your lives!”
“Damn you,” the second stranger said, and slapped him again. Thomas felt the sting in his jaw and tasted the blood in his mouth.
“Damn you!” Thomas shouted at the second stranger, blood spraying from his lips. “Damn you to hell!”
The third slap was harder still, and Thomas felt a tooth loosen. The pain was coursing through him from the fiery thrusting into his arse to the throbbing in his head.
The fire of the cock in his arse and the hot sting from his face met in Thomas’ body. He felt utterly alive. He spat at the second stranger. “Mangy dog, I will have you flayed for this!”
“The gentleman speaks too much yet,” the first stranger said, “he needs stopping up.”
The second stranger drew Thomas’ head to the front of his breeches. Feeling the pounding in his arse and with his hands tied, Thomas was powerless to watch the second stranger unbutton the flap and release his monstrous cock. He stared at the great curve of it, the thick shaft and wet dark head and the nest of red pubes. He knew that cock.
Resisting, he twisted his head against the second stranger’s hands but his neck could not resist his head being slowly turned upward and his mouth falling open. He gagged as the second stranger forced his head onto his hard cock.
He choked as the stranger’s cock filled his mouth. He coughed out blood and snot from his mouth and nose. He was powerless against the thrusting of each stranger. And still they thrust. The thick cock in his throat pushed the cock in his arse deeper. Thomas’ arse was burning. His mouth was burning, His breathing stopped and his eyes full of tears. His senses began to fade until the only thing he felt was the pounding. The pounding. The pounding. And then the blackness.
Thomas’ body fell lifeless to the floor between the strangers. Their cum glistened on his still cheeks, dripping from his arsehole and his mouth. Blood trickling out along the floor.
The strangers stepped back and pulled up their breeches, tucking long shirts inside and saying nothing. Done up, dressed and still masked, they slipped quietly into the secret passage and were gone.
Groves looked up from the corner where he had sheltered, dumbstruck. It seemed only a short time since the strangers’ arrival. Now, the gentleman lay still and lifeless. They had been swift and lethal with him, no mercy shown. No quarter given.
Groves loosened the ties on Thomas’ wrists and turned the young man onto his back. He wiped the blood and cum from his face. Clean of blood and fluid, he looked peaceful. He looked as if he wore the trace of a smile. Groves tugged up the black breeches.
Groves stood and, in the corner of the room, slid the strip of tapestry into the crack between the floorboards.
The house steward would be back on the next day, and Thomas’ death would be reported as a sudden attack of ague.
This story was written as part of a Naked Men Talking Writing Workshop, in response to the prompt "Historic Cum". Copyright remains with the author - this story cannot be republished or distributed without the consent of the author.
Gareth Johnson