The Recollections of Ulysses Halfayard chapters 3-4 (MF+, size)

Here are the next two chapters of a story sent to me by Peter Farrell about a male Victorian whore whose endowments were legendary...

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Chapter Three

The Star of the Show

After my outstanding performance in Lord Carstair’s mansion I knew I needed to find more regular employment to enhance my scandalous reputation. I was introduced by Lady Amelia to Captain Henry Lansdale, who claimed to have served in the Sudan with General Gordon. He also claimed to be associated with some of the most disreputable clubs in the East End, a fetid swamp of degeneracy, crime and perversion, and within days of my debut I was standing naked on a small stage in the middle of the afternoon stroking my cock towards a full erection while the owner of the Gate House Club stared intently at my ball sack.

            Mr Hector Bassington was unconvinced my appendage was real, for he could not recall ever viewing such an enormous rod. He probed and pushed my cock, claiming to have been duped in previous years by grandiose cocks which proved to be false. Only when I cast my seed onto the floor did Mr Bassington accept I was truly gifted with a massive hard cock, and I was offered the paltry sum of two pounds each week for a one hour show every other day. My residency at the Gate House was to last more than eighteen months, though interrupted by frequent sojourns into polite society where my figure, my abilities and my character were greatly admired by distinguished company.

            The Gate House show began each evening with my entrance through the audience seated at tables around the circular stage. I would be naked other than a tight black pouch, suspended on slender black straps reaching behind my back to disappear between my firm buttocks. The pouch barely concealed my huge bulge, but I delayed the ‘reveal’ until I ascended the stage, which revolved slowly to allow the entire audience to enjoy a view of my performance. My arrival of the stage would be followed by a tour of the hall, allowing my swelling to be caressed and stroked, but not unleashed, by spectators. My ‘superior’, a whore dressed in a black uniform topped by a military hat, led me through the array of tables, for I was bound at my elbows to offer a more demeaning bearing to my viewers.

I appreciate some of my readers may question my compliance with such constraints, but a superb male whore, gifted with a fantastic cock and a firm muscular frame, is certain to provoke envy and a degree of despair amongst both men and women. Therefore, my bonds allow my audience to believe they enjoyed a certain advantage over a bound and naked captive, though secretly I am sure they envied the adulation and the renown I experienced from my host of ardent followers.

Once I ascended the stage a common slut would be hauled onto the stage and set in the low stocks by their neck and ankles. My ‘superior’ would then untie my pouch and my audience would be offered a sight of my massive weapon. The revelation never failed to provoke a chorus of gasps from the diners and drinkers at their tables.

            My midnight show invariably required me to robustly penetrate the bumhole of the whore and the intrusion would usually last no less than twenty and no more than thirty minutes. The vigorous sodomy would be interspersed with enforced fellatio and a hearty bout of pelvic thrusting for the pleasure of my audience. The task of offering a relentless pounding whilst bound was a challenge, for my balance would be easily unsettled by leaning too far forward, disturbing the relentless pacing of my abuse.

            Once the harsh violation of my submissive subject was complete I would then be constrained within the stocks, presenting a futile attempt at resistance despite my bound arms.

            The entrance fee for the performance was only one aspect of the revenue secured during the evening. One of the most lucrative measures was the ‘tour’ of the hall. As a seasoned veteran of brothels, camp shows and private clubs, I knew the notables from the squalid masses who managed to find the coppers to spend a night in the Gate House. Many debauched institutions which catered for the depravities of the noble and the wealthy would be frequented by the mean and lower class, but I avoided those tables and veered for the more distinguished guests in the theatre. I would present my huge erection to the guests, and good manners required me to present my ‘credentials’ to any lady at the table. One trick I devised to summon attention and custom was to strike my hard cock against the edge of the table, to underline the rigidity and strength of my muscle, for this always attracted favourable comments from the club’s eminent guests.

            The negotiations surrounding my ‘after show’ activities were managed by Captain Lonsdale, who briskly circulated amongst the more respectable and affluent tables before the payment and the prize would be exchanged in the corridor leading out into the back street where all the carriages awaited their customers. There would be occasions when either the sum, the duration of my service or the scale of my forthcoming indignities remained a matter for negotiation. This required me either to undertake vigorous thrusting if bound or embark upon frantic masturbation if the client opted for an unbound male sex slave. Mister Bassington insisted any unbound performer was to be constantly engaged in masturbation to underline their depraved and degraded status. I was happy to honour this edict, for I was able to constantly entice the attention of my followers to my massive hard rod.

            Once the terms of our contract were settled it was a matter of immense pride to stroll between the gallery of lesser males or commonplace whores loitering outside the Gate House in their desperate search for custom. I tried not to gloat as I was led towards the awaiting carriage, to be taken to some of the most fashionable addresses in the Empire, where my client and their friends could enjoy witnessing the most humiliating, painful and exhausting sexual practices performed by the finest male whore any of them were very like to see.

            My tenure at the Gate House was a restless eighteen months of constant performances and endless late nights. My reputation spread throughout the city, but I was only concerned by the desire to service the most notable and sophisticated ladies. I was only truly content when I was entering members of the nobility or the companions of knights of the realm. Therefore, my performances at the Gate House, whilst attracting the attention of some of the more degenerate elements of the higher classes, was often for the benefit of tradesmen or common clerks. Also, by the end of my first year my ‘private sessions’ were normally purchased by foreigners, visitors to the metropolis who learned of my sensational cock and superb nimble body. Some of these ‘tourists’ were titled but many were not, including far too many uncouth Americans for my taste. So, I became disillusioned with my stay at the Gate House, and craved a return to solely servicing the best elements of London society, and one night a chance encounter changed my destiny.

It was during my second winter at the Gate House, and I was walking, naked and bound, through the cold desolate lane leading to yet another darkened carriage on my way to another overnight stay in a deserted mansion or a cold cellar. My customer was a plump foreign lady, Italian I believe, dressed in pitch black in memory of her departed husband. As I stepped into the carriage, the blinds drawn to avert attention from the naked male travelling the dark London streets in the early hours, a familiar voice called out my stage name of the Donkey King. Lady Amelia was alone apart from her new ‘rooster’, a youngster with, I must confess, magnificent thighs and a presentable cock encased in a pink leather pouch. He was gagged and bound, the wrists attached by short chains to a neck brace. I also noted the muscular buttocks and thighs of my young rival, though in the inconstant light I sadly failed to note the liberal cane and whip marks decorating the young rooster’s tanned skin. They would have served as a warning to a wary sex slave of the lady’s new, darker, tastes.

The young notable complimented my client on her purchase, reminding me of the debt of gratitude she was owed for bringing me from rural backwaters to the heart of depraved London. The chronicle of my introduction to the capital’s sophisticated perverts was delivered while she caressed and fondled both my shaft and my firm, taut body, and the recollection of my time with the fair lady of Kensington only underlined my craving to return to the elegance and distinction of the West End. I realised, as Lady Amelia’s gloved hand reached the end of her journey as she massaged my tender tip, I was desperate to leave Limehouse. I could no longer endure the stench of the river and resorting to rubbing myself for the entertainment of office clerks and shopkeepers.

My client brusquely ended my encounter with Lady Amelia by leading me away to her carriage, to spend the next nine hours relentlessly plugging all three of her holes in the suite of a slightly mediocre Bloomsbury hotel. I was returned to the rear entrance of the Gate House by noon the following day, in accordance with the terms of Captain Lonsdale’s agreement. I would invariably return to the Captain and Mister Bassington every second morning in a debased state, and the morning after my venture with the Italian contessa was no different. However, though I might be naked, sweating, bound and covered in cane strikes, I knew this was the price you pay, the sacrifices you make, if you wish to be the star of the show. 

Chapter Four

An Indecent Proposal

Three days after our encounter outside the Gate House, I asked one of the commonplace whores who served as my fucktoys on stage to write a letter to Lady Amelia requesting a meeting. I was required to wait more than two weeks before a message arrived, inviting me to a rendezvous in a brothel opposite Euston Station.

Lady Amelia offered a contract with simple terms. I would become her personal sexual toy in exchange for comfortable lodgings in her home, with two servants to pander to my every need. There were, however, many pages of text, and I would later learn to regret not returning to Limehouse with my contract for a literate colleague to study the text.

I was introduced to Doctor Hovarth, an elderly Hungarian gentlemen who, I was informed, specialised in ‘distinctive’ medical experiments. He wore a white coat and carried a clipboard, which I thought to be an unusual outfit for a north London brothel as he conducted a very thorough examination of my person. My height and my weight were measured in minute detail. I recall that I was one hundred and seventy centimetres tall and, at that time, I weighed ninety five kilograms of pure muscle.

Once my general measurements were taken, the doctor turned his attention to my cock. He appraised my rod to be an impressive thirty eight centimetres at rest and an exceptional forty four and a half centimetres when fully hard and ready to shoot my load. I did not understand these foreign dimensions, but I knew I had a huge shaft. Doctor Hovarth required me to cast my seed into a glass tube held over the tip of my rod, and I was able to send a fulsome discharge into his bottle.

The examination also involved an intrusion into my bumhole. I objected profusely to such an invasion of my person, but Lady Amelia insisted upon a full inspection before she would consent to retaining my services. I was required to part my buttocks to allow the Magyar medic to view my most private passage. The doctor insisted one could learn a great deal from an inspection of a man’s rear channel, but I would rather enjoy ignorance than endure such enlightenment.

The doctor’s study concluded with a prolonged scrutiny of my ball sack. More measurements were taken before Doctor Hovarth declared, to no one’s surprise, that I was an excellent specimen of the human male, and worthy of further research. I countered that the doctor’s enquiries would exclude any further visits to my bumhole, but Lady Amelia explained she was underwriting Doctor Hovarth’s research to ensure I became an even greater whore.

The Donkey King, she announced, was a legend amongst “metropolitan connoisseurs of extreme pleasures” but her ambitions ranged beyond England to the continent and, perhaps, the globe. She believed it was her patriotic duty to establish a free Englishman as the paramount “sexual artist” in the world, placing London at the centre of the depraved world. I contained the kernel of greatness, which could only be achieved, she insisted, by sacrifice, discipline and audacity. I was unsure of the meaning of these words, but I wanted to circulate amongst the higher echelons of London society, and Lady Amelia offered me an entry into the exalted circles of nobles and knights. As I was hard I offered Her Ladyship a vigorous pounding of a hole of her choosing, but she declined my proposal as she was dining later and would be ‘entertaining’ a lord.

A clap of Lady Amelia’s hands brought forth two clerks, dressed in black like clergy, who bowed to the noble before offering me the most loathsome smirk. I responded to their contempt by undertaking a vigorous stroking to raise my shaft to its full potential, displaying a superb body they could not hope to match. As I was ridiculing the two minions with my huge cock a handbell sounded and this brought forth a more enchanting visitor, a young whore who introduced herself as Flossie. Young Flossie was blessed with a broad smile and an impressive set of breasts, which she released from her low blouse to present to my cock for a “good, hard titfuck.” I obliged with a few powerful strokes which almost poked the poor little thing in the eye before I raised her from her knees, tore away her thin shift and plunged by raging shaft between her buttocks.

Though she was an experienced whore, Flossie gasped at the size and strength of the column of hot muscle planted inside her bumhole. Professional pride required her to pretend I was not inflicting any pain upon her person, but I knew, from the quivering of her knees, she was struggling with entertaining the enormity of the Donkey King. Eventually, my determination and my perseverance was rewarded when I planted my full length inside my partner.

As I completed my journey I turned to the two pencil pushers in their subservient livery and unleashed a brutal and unrelenting barrage upon Flossie’s bumhole that left the young girl howling, due either to pleasure or pain, or a blend of both sentiments. The whore grasped hold of the edge of a table and spread her legs wide apart to more easily house my huge cock, but it could only ease the weight of my tip against her back passage. The duo of notaries could only envy my performance, for they could not even imagine gratifying the nubile young nymph panting at the end of my huge pumping shaft.

A document was presented to me as I pounded into Flossie, but Lady Amelia explained my illiteracy. The two clerks exchanged another smirk as one of the officials began to read the contents of the papers. The document was littered with long complicated words, and Lady Amelia coming to stand beside me to fondle my taut and sweating frame, enjoying a prolonged stroking of my compact buttocks. The whore beneath me and the noble lady beside me distracted my attention from the tedious oration. The eight sheets of paper were finally read and I placed my mark upon the last paper beside the refined and florid inscription of Lady Amelia Constance Barcourt, who ceased touching my thigh to authenticate the contract.

I was handed a copy of the contract by Her Ladyship with significant ceremony and advised to find a haven for my version. However, I was once more distracted from my legal affairs by Flossie, who achieved the notable feat of a bumhole climax. The young whore affirmed Lady Amelia’s suspicions and the young noble congratulated me on such an outstanding achievement, a testament, she claimed, to my steadfast approach as well as my physical attributes.

Once the whore’s climax was attained, a rare occurrence for sensual professionals who invariably become accustomed to a vigorous pounding of their holes, Lady Amelia invited the two bureaucrats to enjoy afternoon tea. I viewed Lady Amelia’s invitation as a challenge, a test requiring me to pummel into young Flossie until the puny duo departed after their refreshment. So, for the next thirty minutes I thrust my hips against the ample buttocks of my increasingly reluctant accomplice, who was sweating profusely from the exertions of admitting my enormous shaft.  

Lady Amelia’s guests pretended not to notice my performance, but I knew they would be furtively casting a jealous eye upon my cock pumping like the piston of a steam engine into a hot whore’s bumhole. However, the gasps and groans of young Flossie became ever more pronounced, and I feared the whore would demand relief from my vigour. I dreaded the prospect of ceasing my onslaught until I noted the interest of the maid who was constantly passing close beside me as she served the young noble and her loathsome guests. I have spent many hours being observed with lustful intent by women of various ages and ranks, from mature duchesses to youngsters from the lower orders. I recognised a roused and covetous female.

The young girl asked if I required water as she came to stand very close to my sweating thrusting frame. The question was answered by Lady Amelia, who rose from her table of English Breakfast tea and buttered scones, to declare my waning exertions were due to a casual and insolent outlook. My negative attitude, she insisted, could be amended by a swift caning. As she offered her remedy for my arrogance, Lady Amelia inflicted three sharp blows with a wicker rod upon my firm buttocks, lacing the hot skin with three crimson stripes.

I responded to Her Ladyship’s reprimand by sending my cock harder, faster and deeper into the bumhole of young Flossie, who was now bawling from the strength of my foray. I heard the two bureaucrats giggle, clearly oblivious to my resolve in submitting to such a penalty without complaint. An exceptional sexual performer worthy of the name would never display any resentment or resistance when undergoing discipline at the hands, or behest, of their client. It is one of the cardinal tenets of our code.

My adherence to the ethics of my profession, however, were sorely tested when Lady Amelia invited the duo at the table to inflict their own discipline upon my superb frame. I chose to ignore both men as they stood either side of me, watching intently as I pumped my huge cock into Flossie’s bumhole. I indulged my superiority by drawing out my shaft and administering a few strokes to the tip, allowing my tormentors a clear view of my magnificent erection, my eighteen inches of hot, hard, glistening muscle. I did not even glance at my audience as I returned my cock to its rightful place between Flossie’s buttocks and unleashed another torrent of robust thrusts.

The two notaries could only answer my fantastic sodomy by caning my buttocks, a futile gesture that did not even earn a disruption in my relentless rhythm. The blows were firm and numerous, but I refused to dignify their endeavours with even the slightest rejoinder. Eventually they abandoned their efforts and, defeated, returned to their table to consume their pastries. The forced chuckles and disparaging comments only underlined my triumph.

Ten minutes later Lady Amelia and her subordinates departed, Her Ladyship without even a glance to the naked couple grunting and sweating for her entertainment. I continued to penetrate Flossie, though the buxom slut ardently contented, now “the posh lady” was gone, there was no purpose to me maintaining my sodomy of “me red raw arsehole.” I was about to desist my efforts when Doctor Hovarth, whose presence I had overlooked during the visit of the two bureaucrats, announced I had been pumping for more than fifty six minutes. Once I failed to understand the significance of the time, he explained I was only a few minutes from completing a full hour of buggery on the young whore. I considered such an achievement as a worthy standard for an eminent sexual artist, so I embarked upon a renewed bout of forceful thrusting that provoked wails of displeasure and dissent from the fucktoy impaled on the end of the cock.

As I drew towards the conclusion of my performance the maid returned to clear the table. She expressed surprise at my enduring invasion of Flossie, who contributed her own views on the matter. Flossie, expressing her opinions in the most uncouth terms, declared her “arsehole was ripped apart from his huge cock” and she feared for her “sweet little cunt” if he ever chose to pay a second visit to the Pantheon Hotel to savour the establishment’s wares.

The maid, enticed rather than alarmed by Flossie’s complaint, moved closer to observe my ardent entrance and exodus. Flossie pleaded for her colleague to convince either me or “the Russian with the white coat” to suspend the performance. However, the maid concurred with our perspective that an hour of constant rigorous buggery was a notable landmark, worthy of another minute of discomfort. Hovarth announced the commencement of the final minute and, to a flourish of intense pounding, I reached my goal. I delivered a few more animated strokes before withdrawing from Flossie, who almost sank to her knees at the end of her ordeal.

The young whore drew apart her sweltering buttocks and presented her gaping bottom to the maid, who declared the opening was indeed “wide, red and raw.” Flossie departed without collecting her attire, calling for ice because “me bum’s ablaze.” Meanwhile, the maid collected a cloth from the dresser and began wiping my chest and arms, though I suspected the gesture was just a prelude to a visit to my shaft, still hard and wet from an hour inside Flossie. She eventually visited my shaft, carefully wiping the hard muscle and asking if I was sore after my sensational exertions. I countered I was "ready for even more hard cock action,” and the comment provoked a lustful smile. The doctor announced no surprise at the comment, for he believed I was capable of numerous hours of the most vigorous and rapid thrusting, once I was “suitably conditioned” for my role. The attentions of the young maid flirting with my shaft allowed the doctor’s comments to fail to provoke further enquiries on my part. It would prove to be a grave mistake.