Work Text:
The whole affair began when Tuppy decided to drag some blasted cousin-or-other of his to the Drones for luncheon. We were enjoying an afternoon of idle jokes, cold meats, and watching Barmy try to fit a whole orange in his mouth in one go, when the pair darkened our collective doorstep. Said cousin-or-other was a curly-haired young gentleman who was on holiday in the metrop, having previously been engaged in some sort of business venture in the States. Now I’m generally known as a personable sort, and it is not in my nature to take a swift disliking to someone, but it seemed to me from the first that this fellow was out to prove himself superior to young Bertram. Tuppy introduced him to us as Gerard Rutherford, a name which conspired to make the speaker sound rather like he had taken a mouthful of pebbles.
Gerard Rutherford had something of a permanent smirk about him. When Tuppy presented my name to the chap, his smirk widened.
“Oh you’re not the Bertie Wooster? Tuppy’s been telling me all about you.”
“Afraid so,” I smiled.
“Does it take it out of you; getting into and out of all those engagements, I mean?”
“Ah, well, it is rather a full-time job.”
He snorted. “I should think it is. And here I am wasting my time on business ventures.”
When I inquired as to what exactly his business ventures consisted of, he proceeded to explain a rather rummy scheme whereby he had wild horses shipped from one of the western states, Mont-something-or-other, to Illinois to be made into dog food.
“Would you believe,” he said, “that all those horses are out there roaming wild, just free for the taking?”
“Golly,” I coughed.
“Well, you know, there’s an awful lot of money to be made out in the States if one’s got any brains.”
Here, he raised an eyebrow and looked askance at me as if he was considering whether, in fact, I had any. Tuppy clapped me on the shoulder.
“Bertie’s already rolling the stuff, you know. And his man Jeeves has got brains enough for the both of them, I should say.”
Being a man of generous spirit, I chose to interpret this little comment as well-deserved praise of Jeeves rather than a knock at myself. Gerard let out a short laugh.
“Of course, Tuppy’s mentioned your Jeeves to me. Sounds like quite the valet.”
Now we were sailing towards more solid conversational grounds.
“Oh, rather. I don’t know how he does it but the man’s a genius. Just last week, he—"
“Say, Bertie,” Tuppy interrupted, “you didn’t forget to bring ‘round that absolute stunner of a bowtie you promised to loan me, you know, the golden-green silk number.”
My stomach attempted, but failed to fully execute, a flip. It got round about halfway and then dropped like a gymnast chappie who was still feeling the effects of one too many sniffs of the good stuff the previous evening. “Ah—well, about the tie old man…you see, in the spirit of generous what’s-it I may have allowed Jeeves to bestow it on a gardener of his acquaintance.”
That wasn’t all I had allowed Jeeves to do that evening, but there are certain matters to which one cannot allude in polite company—if the hallowed halls of the Drones Club could be considered as such.
“Oh blast it, Bertie, you don’t mean to say that you let Jeeves’ objection to the thing get the better of you?” Tuppy huffed. “I was hoping if I appeared in it it might soothe Angela after our silly little spat over the Chinese vase comment.”
“Just a minute—” the Rutherford intoned, “am I to understand that you allow your valet to dictate your wardrobe according to his preferences?” He affected an air of shock and horror.
I could feel the Wooster neck beginning to flush a bit. “Well, not as a matter of course, but—”
“Makes me glad I left England, to tell the truth,” Rutherford said, sneering obscenely. “The decline of the nation is simply appalling to witness.”
I rather took offense to this last comment. It’s a bit rich to have the supposed decline of one’s homeland placed squarely on one’s shoulders on the strength of a single green silk tie. I made my feelings on the matter known to Rutherford. He unleashed an unpleasant laugh and turned to walk away, remarking, “It’s weak men like you who make us the laughingstock of the civilized world.”
I simply could not muster a reply. Tuppy grimaced apologetically and hurried off, presumably to inflict his cousin on some other poor, unsuspecting fellow.
By the time I reached the flat, I was properly steamed about the whole business. I am not usually a man to let silly insults trouble me, but Gerard Rutherford had, admittedly, touched a bit of a nerve. What did he know about the sacred bond between a man and his brilliantly competent valet? He ought to stick to turning horses into dog food or whatever it was he got up to out there in the unmapped territories. I shuddered to think what he would say if he had any idea of the true depths of the bond between Jeeves and myself. The truth was that I would follow that man to the ends of the earth and count myself grateful to be led wheresoever he would take me. If that meant the death of the empire or some such rot, then let it bally well go to its grave.
As I was ruminating thusly, Jeeves glided in as silent and sleek as a jungle cat and began helping me out of my coat.
“I trust you had a pleasant afternoon at the Drones Club, sir?”
“Jeeves, it is with the utmost regret that I must inform you I did not.” I huffed, shaking my arm free of my coat sleeve rather pointedly. “Well, of course, I can’t say the whole afternoon was a complete waste, seeing as I finally got old Bingo to concede after all these years that he was the one at fault in the affair with the blancmange—”
“I thought we had agreed to move on from the blancmange matter, sir”
“Ah, well…so we had, Jeeves, but somehow the thing managed to come crawling back—but that wasn’t what I was really getting at, dash it.”
Jeeves kept silent and raised a single black eyebrow a fraction of an inch. Or rather, a fraction of a fraction of an inch.
“Tuppy managed to fish some abominable cousin of his out of the American wilds where he’s feeding dogs to horses—or is it horses to dogs? And the damned chap had the gall to imply that I was bringing about the decline of the empire or some such nonsense.”
“Indeed, sir?”
“Just an ‘indeed, sir,’ Jeeves? Are you not cut to the quick by this insult? Will you not spring forth to defend the young master’s honor?”
The man coughed. “It is difficult to present a defense of your honor, sir, when I do not know what caused the young man to utter the offending remark.”
“Ah. Yes, well. You see, Jeeves…” I admit the original cause for Rutherford’s scorn had actually slipped from the old Wooster brain while I had been ruminating on the unjustness of the insult and only now, with Jeeves in front of me awaiting an answer, did it come rushing back. I felt my neck growing suddenly warm and I found myself briefly unable to speak.
“Are you quite alright, sir?”
I recovered my senses and managed to affect what I felt was a casual, blustery, tone. “Well, you’ll find this funny Jeeves, old fruit, but I let slip something about how I had permitted you to dispose of that old silk tie—”
“The unsuitable one you purchased two weeks ago, sir?”
“Yes, that’s one. The iridescent chap.”
“I recall, sir” said Jeeves with what, for him, was practically a shudder.
“Yes, and he seemed to take from this…well, he seemed to form an idea in his addled brain that you had the young master, myself, that is…that you had me in a proverbial collar and lead, yielding to your every whim.” This, I managed to punctuate with a derisive “Ha.”
Jeeves was giving me one of his inscrutable looks, but the corners of his mouth had turned up ever so slightly.
“Perhaps, sir, he was not entirely mistaken.”
Well, believe me when I tell you that my mouth fell open and my eyes goggled.
“You must admit, sir, that you’ve become rather more pliable of late.”
As if to demonstrate, Jeeves, eyes a-sparkle with an unwholesome light, wrapped his hand around my tie and gave it a firm, drawn-out tug. I nearly lost my footing as the thing started to tighten around my neck and pull me closer to him.
“Now hold on a minute, Jeeves,” I sputtered, my face flushed and my eyes beginning to sparkle with a dubiously wholesome light of their own. “Do you mean to suggest that you’ve been…making me yield to your will?”
He gave me an indulgent, almost pitying look. “You’ll admit, sir, that you have allowed me to take certain liberties.” His right hand was still firmly on my tie, holding me uncomfortably close. He raised his left hand to grasp me by the chin and brush a thumb lightly over my lips.
I was beginning to find it rather difficult to speak as a pleasant heat began to pool in certain of the more excitable regions of the Wooster corpus. “That…ah…seems a bit unfair, Jeeves.” I managed to breathe. Despite the powerful effect the man had on me, I was determined not to let him win quite so easily.
“Does it, sir?” he asked. Still holding my chin, he tilted my head towards his own so that I was looking him square in the eye. “Would you not admit that you’ve allowed me to take advantage of you?”
As much as I might have wished to stand firm in the face of this onslaught, as soon as my eyes met his I felt my body relax almost involuntarily. “I…do often find myself…ah…yielding to your desires, Jeeves,” I managed.
The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, and he executed a deft removal of my sport coat with a single hand, the other still firmly tugging at the tie around my neck.
“It’s quite shameful, sir,” he said, “a man of your position allowing yourself to be led and debased by a servant.”
I, of course, knew exactly to what he was referring when he spoke of me allowing myself to be debased, and it brought a flush to my cheek and a certain stiffness to the downstairs instrument.
“Are you not meant to be my master, to keep a firm hand, and I to serve you?” Here he had finally begun loosening my tie and was engaged in disentangling the thing from around my neck. I was finding myself too flustered to respond.
Jeeves continued without mercy. “The face you present to the world is as a preux young gentleman of the upper class, yet you degrade yourself before your valet in an unseemly manner.” His graceful hands were travelling down my chest, releasing the buttons on my shirt one by one with an agonizing slowness.
“Everyone knows how you submit to me, sir. They can see it in your eyes and in the subtle movements of your body. Do you think they know the unspeakable things you beg me to do to you when we’re alone?” He brushed a hand over my chest and lazily circled one of my already-stiff nipples with a fingertip. The attention made my cock twitch and strain further against the tyranny of my buttoned trousers. I could not speak. I could only give voice to a low moan.
“Does that excite you, sir? That all those around you can sense the depths of your perversion. How you let yourself be used by your inferiors?” Jeeves moved his eyes downward to rest on the outline of the thing that throbbed against my trouser front.
“No wonder they speak of the decline of the upper classes. You’ve become a slave to the base lusts that I induce in you. Do you admit it, sir?”
My brain still fogged by his words, I didn’t answer him until he twined his fingers through the hair at the back of my head and closed them together in a firm grip. “Will you admit to your perversion?”
“Yes, Jeeves,” I breathed. “I…I’m a…”
“You’re a sick man to have fallen so low,” he murmured “to be controlled by your unnatural desires.”
Overtaken by a power beyond my own weak will, I found myself speaking words that I never otherwise would have uttered. “You’re perfectly right, Jeeves…I…I’m a very sick chap. I dream about my handsome valet forcing me to do unspeakable things.” I was panting now. “I…I lie in bed at night and I stroke myself and…and I think about you violating me.” As I spoke these words, my cheeks burned with shame, but I also felt the tip of the aching Wooster cock beginning to leak.
The man’s eyes smoldered.
“Violating you how, sir?”
My heart had begun pounding in my ears, and when I opened my mouth to speak, I found I could only manage a sort of gasping wheeze. “Ah…you…you know, Jeeves.”
He still had the back of my head in an elegant grip, and now he began to pull me downwards until I was forced to collapse to my knees before him. I was now face to face with the evidence that he had not remained unaffected by our exchange. He, too, seemed to be struggling against the confinement of his trousers.
“Hm, sir?” he asked with an almost smirking coldness. “Are you ashamed to speak the words aloud?”
I let my eyes drop to the floor as I felt, ever more keenly, the blood rushing in my ears, the heat pounding in my face, and the stiff throbbing of my cock.
He locked two fingers under my chin, tipping my head upward and forcing me to meet his dark gaze.
“I’ll wait, sir.”
“Blast it, Jeeves,” I moaned. “Make me…make me take your cock.”
He didn’t move. “Please.”
At this, he began to carefully undo his trousers, letting them fall to the floor and neatly stepping free of them. In nearly one motion, he brushed the hair from my forehead and took hold of the back of my cranium with one capable hand, while pulling his cock free of his undergarments with the other. He guided the head to the spot where my lips were softly parting.
“Is this what you dream about, sir?” he asked as he slid the length of his cock into my mouth.
I groaned my approval.
His hand guided the rhythm of my bobbing head as I took him between my lips, but the eagerness with which I approached the task was my own. The indignity of the position made my own cock pulse and leak with need.
“You’ve given in to your wanton perversion,” Jeeves murmured. “Is it always there, this unnatural desire to be used by your inferiors? To submit to another man?”
Moaning my assent, I began to tongue his cock more luxuriously, pulling my head back slowly and looking up to meet his eyes as I lavished attention on his tip. I lapped my tongue around his cockhead and then moved to suck it gently between my lips. The man was trying his best to maintain his beautiful air of composure, but I could see the blush rising in his cheeks and I could hear his breathing grow faster. I continued to tease his cockhead with my tongue, pulling it in and out of my closed lips and sucking steadily.
“You must have kneeled before so many men, sir, to debase yourself like this. It comes naturally to you,” he breathed.
Feeling overcome, I pulled him from my lips and ran my tongue along the bottom of his shaft until I reached his tight ballsack. I caressed it with my lips and tongue, tasting the subtle musk of his clean sweat. Breathing in his scent, I felt the need to have his cock thrust into me again, choking all else out of my mind.
I pulled back, tracing my tongue along his glorious, stiff length before relaxing the back of my throat and taking him deeper than I had before. He pushed himself inside of me until his balls slapped my chin and I began to sputter. He was taking back control with a steady rhythm.
“You sit in your club and in the parlors of fine houses, dressed so prettily, affecting the appearance of a fine young gentleman, yet your mind is awash with obscene lusts. You long for a stronger man to force you to your knees and make you take him.”
The cool, measured way that he spoke these words even as he continued to thrust his cock as far down my throat as I could manage made me burn with lust and shame.
“If anyone knew of your unseemly perversion they would have you locked away. I imagine they would publish it in the papers for all to see.”
The Wooster instrument was already throbbing fit to burst, but at these words I could feel the urgency building and I could no longer keep my hands off the damn thing. I pulled it from my waistband and began stroking myself, almost spending right there when my fingers brushed the leaking tip to spread the fluid down my shaft.
Jeeves, taking notice of my desperation, began to thrust with greater urgency, low breaths escaping the man’s lips.
“Even now, sir, you can’t resist stroking yourself to the thought of everyone knowing what you really are.”
This was too much to bear and, with the man’s cock still thrusting into my mouth, I came with a muffled cry. I wanted to collapse, but the thought that Jeeves was close to spending down my throat gave me enough willpower to hold myself up and start moving my lips and tongue with a renewed energy.
My handsome valet, looking down at me with lustful eyes, managed to pant “You’ll swallow it all for me,” before his warm come burst in spurts down my throat. I, of course, was eager to obey him.
He withdrew slowly and I traced my tongue along my upper lip to taste the last of his spendings. I was suddenly aware that my knees ached and my body was ready to collapse. Jeeves, brilliant paragon of chivalry that he was, lifted me to my feet and helped me to the bedroom.
He laid me down on the bed and bent over to brush a gentle kiss onto my lips. His hand smoothed my hair back and came to rest in a comforting caress of my cheek.
“You’re so devilishly seductive, Jeeves,” I murmured, “how could anyone resist?”
He looked down at me with a loving smile.
“My Bertie…” he breathed as he gave my cheek a gentle stroke with his thumb. “You mustn’t let any more foolish remarks bother you.”
And of course, the man was right as always.