Published at 2nd of September 2019 3:55 pm

Volume 2, Chapter 7

This chapter is updated by NovelFree.ml

This was already the second time the two of them were at this apartment --- it still had a mottled facade, and the deathly stillness that shrouded it suggested that it was uninhabited.

This time, Wiltshire did not seem as though he intended to sneak in, instead, with an elegant comportment, he ascended the steps that led to the front door of the building and with unsurpassed poise, he rang the doorbell.

“Who is it?” A man's wary voice came from beyond the door; Walker could tell that it belonged to the Baron Simon Portland --- the originator of all the trouble that had necessitated them to undertake this trip to France.

“I am Sir Robinson [1], I wish to speak with you about some matters pertaining to your former manservant, Joseph.” Wiltshire's voice was unstintingly polite, full of aristocratic refinement, but behind the door, in Portland's ears, the name "Joseph" was tantamount to the explosion of a heavy shell.

It had only taken a moment of effort on Wiltshire's part, and the door was opened to them.

After taking a moment to take the measure of the incomparably beautiful Wiltshire and also Walker, who was standing silently behind with a reticent expression on his face, Portland’s confusion showed on his face, and he asked: “Who are you people?”

Making no reply, Wiltshire forcefully pushed the door inwards, and strode inside on his own volition.

“How could you invade someone else’s home just like that?” The was some apprehension mixed into Portland's outrage as he stared at the stranger who was sitting on his couch with an arrogant attitude.

“We have come from Britain, and we want to speak with you with regards to Princess Caroline.” It was evident that Wiltshire was an adept in the ways of skilful negotiation; his chosen method of getting straight to the point caught Portland off-guard and in that instant, he revealed a complicated expression on his face.

However, he was no lily-livered simpleton, and he quickly regained his equilibrium.

“Who are you people? What Princess Caroline, I’ve never heard of her.”

“You…” Walker wanted to interject himself into the conversation, but he was prevented from doing so by a wave of the Marquess’s hand.

“... Make a comparison: would you prefer to tell us the whereabouts of the Princess, or perhaps you would prefer to let Mr. Joseph know about the transaction between you and Mr. Dockray…” Wiltshire's tone of voice remained as casual as ever, but Portland's face turned deathly pale instantly.

“You… both of you…” Because he couldn't guess how much his counterparts actually knew, he hesitated; however, his heart was already trembling because it had already jumped to the worst conclusions.

Wiltshire had evidently decided thoroughly wreck any trust the Baron still placed in luck and he said: “Do you want me to tell Mr. Joseph that you obtained the money used to buy his medicine by selling your body? He is so seriously ill, I wonder if he can withstand such a shocking blow?”

Portland's body shook visibly for a while, and his eyes shot out beams of hatred as he stared at Wiltshire's face --- not to be outdone, the Marquess returned his gaze.

Momentarily, Portland smiled bitterly: “Tell him, go ahead and tell Joseph… He will be very happy to learn of such a thing…” However, his ashen face betrayed him; everyone could see that no matter now cruelly Joseph treated him, Portland still did not wish for him to know how low he had sank.

“Yes, I believe he would be very happy. Once Mr. Joseph knew that the medicine was sent by you, he refused to take it anymore, even when the doctor told him he would die, he still refused to accept any favours from you… even a blind man can see how much he hates you…” Wiltshire did not continue speaking on, Portland's expression was as pale and leaden as a corpse, letting Wiltshire know that he had already dealt him a blow heavy enough.

With a soft "hai", the Marquess made some adjustments to how he was seated on the sofa.

“Mr. Portland, whatever the case, I still hope that you will tell us the Princess's whereabouts. About the matter of your Mr. Joseph, perhaps this gentleman and I may be of some assistance.”

Straightaway, Portland grew silent. A small part of Walker could not bear to see his despairing eyes, and also, from the way he was glaring at Wiltshire, it seemed as though he sorely wished to have him for dinner.

After a long while, the blazing look in Portland's eyes dimmed and they dulled. Again, he revealed an expression reminiscent of a dead man as he said: “No one can help us… there is no one who can… Sir, don’t ask me about the Princess anymore, I don’t know.”

“But you were the one who took the Princess away…” Walker couldn’t help but to interrupt the conversation from where he was standing to the side.

“Forget it, Walker, let's go. Perhaps what we really should do now is to let Mr. Joseph have a better understanding of Mr. Portland.” Wiltshire stood up languidly, and with a nonchalant expression on his face, he signalled for Walker to leave with him.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see that wearing a stiff expression, Portland was sitting on the couch in a daze, as motionless as if he had been nailed to the spot. This state of affairs persisted until Wiltshire turned the door knob, at which time Portland rushed over as if he had suddenly gone mad and blocked the doorway.

“Don’t! Don’t! Please don’t do this, Sir…” The look on his face was terrible to behold, his voice was slightly choked but he soon managed to gain control over it and began to speak with a normal voice. “Mr. Robinson, please do not do this. I really do not know where the Princess is… but please do not go and upset Joseph, he… he…”

“If you still do not wish to speak one word of truth, then my apologies, but I can only be unfair to you and Mr. Joseph.” Wiltshire seemed to be unmoved by the distress of the Baron, who looked like he was on the verge of tears, and with a cold demeanour, he was still going to open the door and leave.

Portland was silent as he stared at the hand that Wiltshire still had on the door knob. Turning, he returned to the sofa and seated himself, “All right, Sir, I’m willing to tell you what I know… but, as for Joseph…”

“I’ll know what to do.” Wiltshire said this in a quite resolute and decisive manner.

Portland nodded, and indicated that Wiltshire and Walker should sit down opposite him. After a long sigh, so light that it was almost inaudible, he began to recount what had happened.

“... It was a friend who brought me to London. Once there, by random chance, I met Caroline. She’s innocent, beautiful, just like a rose. She said that she fell in love with me at first sight, but unfortunately…”

“Unfortunately you don’t even like women, and have no feelings for her.” With an expressionless mien, Wiltshire stated the truth of the matter.

“Yes, even though Caroline seemed to look upon me with a very favourable eye, but regrettably, she is far from being the object of my affections.”

“Then why did you elope with her to France?” Walker was a bit curious. So far, he did not have a bad impression of Portland and he could not imagine why he would want to harm an innocent girl who was in love with him.

In an instant, Portland’s eyes grew empty and lifeless. A long time passed before he answered: “What else? Of course it was because of money. Twenty thousand pounds sterling. Somebody wanted me to take her away from Britain, and after the deed was done, he would give me twenty thousand pounds.”

“Who?”

“I don't know, the negotiations were conducted through an intermediary, the friend who had brought me to Britain, and I agreed.”

“What’s your friend’s name?” Wiltshire's eyes gleamed with a canny light; obviously, he was seasoned in the interrogation of others.

“Stanley, Count [2] Stanley Wainwright.” Portland paused, finally he gave up and resigned himself to telling the truth, “I only went with him to London because he said that there was a customer he wanted to introduce me to. That customer was willing to pay me fifty thousand francs for me to go to England and serve him.”

Walker was a bit dumbstruck; in his eyes all the nobility were wont to idle away their time in unproductive pursuits, having a voracious appetite for leisure while loathing honest toil, he had never before thought that there would be an aristocrat as miserable as Portland.

Wiltshire also seemed to have similar sentiments; with some perplexity, he frowned at Portland: “How could this be? From what I understand, the Portland family was once one of the wealthiest noble families in France. Also... even if its fortunes have declined, it shouldn't have fallen to the extent that the heir is required to sell his body?”

As Portland heard his words, he began to smile bitterly in distress. Eyeing the costly jackets with exquisite embroidery that Wiltshire and Walker were wearing, his expression was both self-disparaging and sorrowful as he said: “Wealthy? Perhaps that was still the case during my grandfather’s time. However if you have a father who’s addicted to gambling, who besides leaving you with nothing but an empty title, also leaves behind debts that you cannot hope to clear in eight lifetimes, and then you fall in love with someone who is so ill that his very existence depends on taking medicine that costs a thousand francs each round, would you be as footloose and fancy-free as you are now?”

Walker felt slightly aggrieved, and he started to understand what the cause of the lingering sorrow that was ever-present on Portland's face was --- money, the root of a thousand evils among humans. No matter how stalwart a person was, when he faced poverty, when he faced an eternity of having pockets as empty as if they had just been laundered, that person might not be able to stand by his principles in the same way. And as for himself, it was precisely because of poverty that he left his family behind in Stonehaven and set off with Wiltshire.

When compared to Portland, his own circumstances were actually not much better, but perhaps in the eyes of others, they might think that he had been much luckier.

“When was the last time you saw the Princess?” It was evident that Wiltshire's capacity for compassion was nowhere near as developed as Walker's; in his ears, the woes of the world seemed to be but trivial and commonplace matters. He did not comment on Portland's story, remaining impartial, only caring to remain focused and bring the topic of conversation back to the reason they had embarked on this trip.

“It was when we had just arrived in France, the other party had already made arrangements with Wainwright. After just one night, Caroline disappeared.” Portland slowly hung his head; the image of Caroline's pair of innocent eyes flashed before his eyes, and his heart could not help but to quake.

“Towards a woman who loved you so much that she was willing to give up everything [3] and travel across the sea to live in a foreign land with you, did you not even bother to ask one question about her whereabouts?” There was strong derision in Wiltshire's tone of voice, and it pierced Portland's fragile conscience as if it were a honed dagger.

He couldn't keep himself from burying his face in his hands, and he said with a voice that was trembling with anguish: “I know I’ve wronged her greatly… but I am very frightened, they are very powerful and influential, Stanley did warn me that if I should speak of this matter to anyone, then none of us can hope to survive…”

Wiltshire gave a cold "humph", it was obvious to anyone listening how contemptuous he was of Portland's cowardice. “Give me Wainwright’s address.” He stood up, and extended a hand towards Portland.

After obtaining Wainwright’s address, Wiltshire did not tarry any longer, and left Portland’s apartment in a hurry, with Walker in tow.

Wainwright's residence was not far from where they were; travelling via horse carriage, it only took them about half an hour to arrive from Portland's home.

But the result was disappointing to them --- according to the servants of the Wainwright family, the Count had already left Paris many months ago, and nothing definite was known about his itinerary or his destination.

The trail they had worked so hard to uncover had been broken again --- when they returned to the hotel, Walker’s face was full of disappointment, but Wiltshire still looked as though he couldn’t care less about the matter.

“What if we really fail to find the Princess?” Walker rested his head on his arm, and directed the question towards the Marquess, who was sitting beside the window, writing at a tremendous pace.

“Who knows? Perhaps the Prince Regent will ask someone else to continue with the search? After all, not only is she his darling daughter, she’s also his only daughter.” Wiltshire shrugged his shoulders as he replied.

“How much longer do we have to stay in France?”

“Are you missing home already, Walker darling? What’s so bad about France, life is free and easy here, and I can keep you company the whole day.” Wiltshire rang the bell to summon help. After he handed the letters he had written to the attendant, he walked over to the bed and sat down, bending over Walker and smiling as he looked down upon him.

“Who wants you to keep them company?” Walker found it a bit unbearable to look at the Marquess's face, so beautiful that it seemed to be brimming with vibrancy, from such a short distance. Turning to lie on his side, he muttered softly as he faced the wall.

“Walker baby [4], your words are really uncalled for. Go and ask those beauties in London, to have the pleasure of my company is such a joyous and privileged thing!” Perceiving that his proximity was causing a reaction in Walker, Wiltshire's heart was secretly delighted, but he still did not neglect to poke fun at him with his mouth.

“Forget about it! I'm afraid there's no joy or privilege, but the truth is that there is fear and worry.” He also knew full well that his feelings towards Wiltshire had grown to such an extent that it was impossible to conceal, but Walker still tried hard not to let Wiltshire discover that fact.

“Fear and worry? I’m not a man-eating tiger…” The manner in which the Marquess spoke was a little bit absent-minded, but the movements of his hands were not in the least bit vague --- In a couple of seconds, he had shed his bothersome jacket and simply laid himself down besides Walker, using a hand to gently caress and stroke his bare arms.

Walker quickly jerked his arms away and grumbled: “Look at yourself, getting handsy while we’re having a conversation… I really don’t know how those women put up with you, a virgin would probably lose her chastity if she stands beside you for longer than five minutes.”

The Marquess was so amused by his comments that he laughed out loud. Turning Walker around so that they were face-to-face, he took him into his arms and with lightning speed, he gave him a peck on his lips before saying: “My dear Mr. Robinson, it is indeed very enjoyable to speak with you… but I must beg you to do something that is even more enjoyable with me, how about it?”

Of course, Walker knew what the Marquess was referring to by "even more enjoyable", his face instantly flushed red and he shoved at Wiltshire with an arm. “… What ‘even more enjoyable’? To hell with it, could you please stop being so shameless?”

“No.” The Marquess's answer came at the speed of light, and as he was speaking, he was lifting up Walker's shirt. His nimble fingers kneaded the kernels at the front of Walker's chest with a touch that exerted just the right about of pressure to cause a tremor to run through Walker's entire body involuntarily.

“You…” Finding that his own voice had already become hoarse and harsh to the ears, Walker hurriedly shut his mouth, only to feel that Wiltshire's groping hand had already gone beyond the waist of his pants, and was probing deeper into the narrow groove between his pair of lower cheeks.

“Don’t want…” Although his lips were still repetitively mumbling his defiant rejection, but in Walker's heart, he knew that his passion had already been stirred up by the Marquess --- he had never before known that he was a person who was so easily aroused, but even so, he still found it impossible to resist these type of caresses from Wiltshire, which were both affectionate and ravaging at the same time. Even this simple foreplay could make him lose his capacity for logical thought, and he obediently spread his own body.

“Oh… you’re so obedient… Walker, let me love you… give me all of you… let me love you well…” Even as his desires were in a state of upheaval and his emotions were going wild, Wiltshire still did not forget to display the qualities of a true Casanova. Utilizing sweet speeches and honeyed words to the fullest extent, he coaxed Walker's body to become as soft and pliable as cotton, and with its cooperation, he could do as he pleased.

“Darling, open your legs a bit wider… can you feel it? It wants to go inside, to go inside of you… you’re so hot… so tight…” Stripping off Walker's trousers and underclothes, Wiltshire used his hand to hold his manhood and continuously rubbed it against the bare entrance at the back of Walker's body. Obscene fluid constantly flowed out from the tip, moistening the creased area, which had originally been arid.

He could feel that within his body, that place which had already experienced being penetrated was currently contracting again and again, in an uncontrollable fashion, as a result of Wiltshire's wicked actions. And with each pulse, his body also gave a sweet tremble as the thrill shot through it --- spreading his legs wide open like this, letting the Marquess play with him as he pleased, this was certainly far from a first for him, however the magical powers of sex had never once diminished. Instead with each time it was stronger than the previous, to the extent that he had began to fear that he would die at the moment of climax as a result of excessive excitement and pleasure.

Because his sexual urge was too overwhelming, the Marquess did not even manage to take off his shirt before he was compelled to begin to forcefully insert his sex organ into Walker's body --- although it had been moistened by scented oil and Wiltshire's fluids, but without having been stretched out with fingers, that part was still painfully tight. When the Marquess was about a third of the way in, he found it almost impossible to proceed any further. In his impatience, he fretfully parted the two halves of Walker's buttocks with his hands, wanting to go deeper into the Scotsman's body.

“It hurts a lot…” Although that place which had grown accustomed to being entered by a man did not tear or bleed, but because it was being uncomfortably stretched, barely enough to accommodate the sex organ, it had already turned red and swollen, and the pleasure which Walker had been experiencing up to that point had become dispelled by the pain he was actually experiencing in that moment --- Walker curled up his upper body slightly, and moaned softly because of the pain.

“Sure enough, still can't do it like this...” The Marquess furrowed his brows, and after thinking a little, he slowly pulled out of Walker's body…

In addition to his amazement, Walker could not help but to feel a little gratitude towards him --- in the past, whenever such a situation arose, the Marquess would always force himself in, but in recent times, the Marquess had become noticeably more considerate. Just like today, he had obviously chosen to rein in his lust because of Walker's pain.

But to say that the Marquess intended to give up just like that would be to speak prematurely --- instead of going directly inside, the Marquess wedged his enormous manhood between the seam of Walker's buttocks and began to rock back and forth. Although it didn't have the pain that penetration did, having such friction in such a sensitive area of his body was even more cause for bashfulness.

With his face flushed scarlet, Walker did not make a single sound as he endured it, and looked on as the Marquess surmounted the peak of pleasure, and in that instant he shot *** [5] in its entirety at the entrance of that place.

“That should do it…” With his finger, the Marquess smeared the semen he had deposited at the opening onto the insides of the Scotsman's body, and after rotating it slightly, he smiled --- that smile made some unknown part deep inside Walker's body begin to ache again, and he could only look on dumbly as the Marquess inserted his manhood, which was erect once again, into his body…

The bed shook and creaked in accordance with the unpredictable rhythm set by Wiltshire; as it suddenly sped up and just as suddenly slowed down, Walker could distinctly feel every single thrust Wiltshire's hot and hard manhood made inside his body… Having been lubricated and stretched beforehand, the pain was reduced to the lowest possible ebb, and the Scotsman only felt his body blazing with heat, like if it were going to ignite at any moment. However, it was still constantly being rubbed and stimulated, stoking the fire to ever higher temperatures...

“Brett…” With his body bent into an awkward pose, he bore the weight of the Marquess pressing down upon his torso. Hearing his heavy panting by his ear, understanding that this handsome man was burning up and going crazy for him, Walker's consciousness gradually began to get fuzzy…

However, the Marquess made no verbal reply, the only answer he got was that his thrusts became even more vigorous and he penetrated even more deeply into him. Walker was on the verge of swooning, he could only cling more tightly to him, enduring the torment that the man on top of his body was inflicting upon him, which seemed half like bliss and half like agony.

The Marquess's lust seemed to continue on endlessly, as if it knew no limits. All throughout, the always exhilarating climax seemed as though it would never come, until at last, after what seemed to be a century, the Marquess gave a soft muffled groan and spilled out all of his seed deep into the Scotsman's body…

Walker could not speak, every time he made love with the Marquess he would think that he couldn't possibly again experience such a wildly intense climax, but every time, the Marquess would send him into the throes of an even more extreme pleasure. At this moment, there remained in his body the lingering traces of pleasure as well as the evidence that the two of them had once been engaged in such unapologetically carnal intercourse --- should the Marquess choose to make any outrageous demands at that moment, Walker was afraid that he would be unable to refuse.

All the same, his Lordship, the Marquess of Wiltshire did not seem to be in a much better state than him; the manhood that was still inside Walker had softened, but he did not even have the energy to pull out of him. Instead, he held his body in the same position as when they had been making love, tightly pressed against the Scotsman's body. Locks of his golden hair were draped over Walker's honey-coloured chest, even the most celebrated painter of erotic art would be unable to unable to depict the sweetness and licentiousness of that moment…

“Too warm…” It took a long time before Walker's mind slowly cleared as he slowly recovered from the lingering afterglow of their intimacy. Using his hand to lightly jostle the male body on top of his own, he tried to make the Marquess leave his body.

“Don’t want…” Evidently, the Marquess still wanted to maintain this kind of extremely intimate position. Still partly in a stupor, he caught hold of the hands that Walker was using to push at him, and leisurely planted a hot and wet kiss on the Scotsman's lips.

“Mmmhh…” This type of wet and tacky feeling made the Scotsman's entire body shiver, and he couldn't keep his body, which was pinned down by the Marquess, from writhing slightly. He only felt himself to be fully enveloped by a male body that carried the faint scent of sandalwood, even the taste in his mouth was wholly of Wiltshire…

The Marquess still did not have any intentions of giving up, continuing to suck on and stir up the Scotsman's tongue, continuing to demand the liquid in Walker's mouth, almost to the point of asphyxiation….

“Say that you love me… Darling, say that you’re willing to be with me forever…” Frankly speaking, Wiltshire himself also did not know that he would actually be such a fervently passionate lover. Among the ladies of the court in London, he was renowned for his coolness and his indifference, but every time he came into physical contact with Walker, he would discover that his own sexual desire and possessiveness would ignite to a boil.

As for what this signified, the Marquess was not willing to analyse. The most pervasive thought in his mind at that moment was to prolong this extremely intense pleasure, he did not wish to so readily release the man who brought him such joy.

No matter who it was, there was nobody in the world who would find it easy to remain completely indifferent in the instant when he was met with such ardent demands --- not to mention, at that moment both of their bodies were still intimately joined together; Walker's determination had never before wavered so much. Originally, he had already long since decided to part ways with the Marquess once they got back to England, taking different roads and urging his horses on without looking back, but at this moment, he really doubted if he could still manage to live in peace and contentment by himself, should he leave Wiltshire.

Could he, having once experienced the nonpareil, still accept the simple happiness that an ordinary wife and a few naughty children could bring to him?

His heart refused to search for an answer, because he knew that deep in his heart, there was already an answer --- one that he would find unacceptable. Also, the part of the Marquess that was still inside his body was rapidly distending again, fortuitously giving him a reason to avoid having to face the answer...

“Get lost, you pervert!” With his face aflame, Walker shoved the Marquess away forcefully, and in his struggle, he rolled from the bed onto the floor. However, the feeling of the sex organ suddenly leaving his body made his legs weak, leaving him momentarily unable to get up from where he lay on the carpet.

Of course, Wiltshire would not pass up a chance like that. He rapidly held down the Scotsman from behind, and almost as easily as he would blow away ashes, he again inserted his sex organ into the wide open body, that was lacking the strength to clench shut.

“Bastard…” At the merciless rhythm set by the Marquess, his vicious curses modified in tone, turning into moans as Walker was absorbed in the sensations that emanated from his rectum --- supreme pleasure mixed with slight traces of pain. He wanted to prop himself up, but that movement ended up being him sprawling forward in a kneeling position, in turn allowing the Marquess to penetrate to an even deeper place within his body…

“Brett… let go of me…” Cognizant of the inexorability of his situation, Walker's moans were already slightly choked with emotion --- he made a great effort to bury his head and face in his hands, his whole body was trembling fiercely, but in spite of his efforts, he was unable to find deliverance from the attacks launched by the Marquess from his rear, and in the end, he was still unable to avoid the moment when the hot liquid was completely emptied into the insides of his body…

The liquids that his body was unable to contain continuously flowed down his thighs, even soiling the expensive Turkish carpets --- Walker maintained his body in this position, not resisting as Wiltshire helped him to remove the grime within his body before he called for hot water and wiped Walker's body clean.

Amenably, he leaned on the man's chest and in the instant before he entered into slumber, the Scotsman decided that he would no longer evade, no longer pretend that he did not have any feelings for this man --- no matter if by revealing his true feelings he would only invite his own painful destruction; in this lifetime, he wanted to be honest with himself for once, to stake everything on a gamble for once.

End of Jus Primae Noctis Volume 2, Chapter 7

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[1]: Not a typo, Wiltshire does introduce himself using Walker’s surname.

[2]: The title used here is “伯爵 (bó jué)”, which would be an earl under the British system and a comte (count in English) under the French system. I assume the guy to be French but I’ll refer to him as a count for ease of translation.

[3]: Presumably, Princess Caroline was also the second in line to the throne, after her father. In some monarchies, people who were in the line of succession were required to seek permission to marry from the monarch or parliament, and if they did not (or parliament did not give their approval), they would be ineligible to inherit the throne. That’s still the case in some royal houses today, the late Prince Friso of the Netherlands lost his place in the line of succession because of this in 2004. Presumably, Wiltshire was referencing this rule when he said that she Princess Caroline gave up everything for Portland.

[4]: The word “baby” was already in English in the original text.

[5]: Author/publisher’s censorship, not mine.

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