November 1
I arrived today. The trip was exhausting. I wish I had more energy to explore this place, but I'm just too pooped.
November 2, morning
What a difference a night makes. I usually don't sleep well in a "new bed" for a couple of days until I have a chance to get used to the sounds, etc. during the night. I guess I was just too tired. I woke up a couple of times because I thought I felt a cold draft or breeze or something, but I went right back to sleep.
This is my first real day at Broken Gables. I won a two-week "all-inclusive" stay here at a charity auction. I have the freedom to explore this gigantic house and estate, the service staff are supposed to take care of my needs, etc. It was advertised as being like living in a Jane Eyre novel when I bid.
The room I'm in is gigantic. There's a big four-poster bed that looks like it doesn't even take up a fifth of the space in this room. I'm writing this at an old-fashioned desk that has lots of little drawers and slots in it. There's a big fireplace on one side of the room, but I don't see it being used very much considering how warm it's been lately. There's also a big wooden closet (a piece of furniture!) instead of a separate "add-on" room. Even with all this, it still feels like there's more space in this room than anyone would really know what to do with.
Apart from that draft that I felt last night, my only complaint would be that the room feels kind of dark (as in no light). I can't put my finger on why I feel that way, though, since one entire side of the room is windows, and the sun shines right in. It's like something in the room is sucking the light in instead of reflecting it. Even the mirror in this room almost feels like they're something over it that absorbs light. Weird.
I noticed a portrait on the wall when I woke up, too. It definitely looks old. It's not "powdered wigs" old, but not long after that. That's just a guess, of course, based on what the clothes look like. It's a really cute blonde guy with a ponytail. He must have liked horses because he's got a riding crop in his hand, and he's wearing leather gloves like a country gentleman would have on when gripping reins.
Well, I should see about breakfast. Maybe I'll talk to someone on the staff and ask who's in that picture. I should probably say something about that cold draft, too, but I don't want to seem like a person who does nothing but complain.
November 2, afternoon
The guy in the portrait's name was Devyn. He was apparently some sort of "black sheep" of the family way back when. All I could get out of anyone was that it was something about "failing to do his duty." If that's true, then it's nothing as bad as him being a murderer or anything like that. Looks like I might have a minor mystery to try to unravel a bit if I can find the time!
The only other bit of intrigue is that I can't figure out where that cold draft is coming from. I ran my hands all across the windows (the obvious first place to look) and didn't feel anything like cold air. But it seems to hit me at random times no matter where I am in the room. Strange.
Well, I've got some time to explore the house a bit before supper. Maybe I'll see if I can find more pictures of Devyn or something. He was kind of sexy; I wouldn't mind seeing more of him!
November 3, morning
I actually found something! At least, I think I did. Not another picture (the butler or footman, or whatever his title is said there's only the one picture of "young master Devyn" in the house), but something that might be more interesting and illuminating.
I was wandering the halls yesterday afternoon and found what looks like an old study or library. I pulled out a few books to flip through and saw something scratched into the inside bookcase. I pulled more books out to see what it was and saw that someone had taken a small knife or something like that had scratched a small "D" into the wood along with an arrow. That lead to another and another.
Eventually, I was at the fireplace, over which was a big picture of horses running. I reached up to touch the rather gaudy gilded frame and felt one of those damned cold drafts on the back of my hand suddenly. It almost felt like a pain it was so cold and sudden. That made my hand jerk, and the frame was jostled a littleÉand I heard something.
Wedged behind the frame had been another book. When I opened it, I saw handwriting and dates a diary! On the front page was written "Devyn J, 1815." The paper looks kind of fragile, so I'll have to be careful with it as I read it.
It seems kind of weird to write this, but I could have sworn that there was a cool breeze kind of pushing me back to my room here, though. I closed the door behind me, and the first thing I did was look up at Devyn's picture. I had his diary, so I wanted a better look at the person about whom I'd be reading.
I didn't notice it before, but it looks like he was smiling or smirking a little in the picture. The artist also painted him looking downward a little, as if he knew where it was going to be placed and wanted Devyn to be looking back at whomever was looking up at him. I guess the portrait of Devyn was well-hung.
I wonder if Devyn was well-hung, too. HA!
Of course, as soon as I thought that, I felt a little embarrassed. It felt a little disrespectful. After all, the guy is long dead by now.
Something about Devyn's portrait is awfully erotic to me, though. It's not the leather riding crop or gloves or the way he looks, necessarily even granting the fact that he's pretty cute. Something about that picture kind of oozes desire and sex, though. I can't put my finger on what makes me feel like that.
I felt another one of those damned cold drafts as soon as I thought about that, going right across the back of my neck. It was a very light touch, but intense. It almost felt like being tickled with a feather made of ice.
Right after that, it was time to eat, so that happened. I might have imagined it, but I thought that one of the guys serving the food might have winked a little at me. It's likely it was just my imagination, since I'd been thinking about that sexy guy on the wall looking down at the bed while I sleep in it.
Anyways, I eventually got back in my room and was pretty horny. Between the wink (that might or might not have happened) and that blonde sexpot over the fireplace, I needed to bust my nut. I got undressed, laid down on the bed, and made my hand busy. Right as I started to release, there was another targeted frigid breeze, this time across my balls. It wasn't quite painful, but the feeling and the timing were delicious. It added to my ecstasy as I shot all over myself all the way up to my shoulder.
My release was so complete that I fell asleep almost immediately. I didn't even have the energy to wipe off or get under the covers. I just drifted off with the smell of my seed in my nose and the feel of it drying on my chestÉalthough my cum did feel kind of cold as I was going to sleep. Maybe one of those damned drafts in this house must have been blowing across it and drying it or something. In my half-asleep state, though, I could have sworn it felt like someone's tongue after they had been sucking on an ice cube or something like that.
That was last night. Today, I plan on walking the grounds a little and then maybe cracking open that diary to see what I can see.
November 3, evening
O.K., today didn't go as planned, but it was still fascinating. I started reading Devyn's diary after breakfast and was so absorbed in it that I completely forgot to take lunch. I probably wouldn't have taken supper, either, if the guy who winked at me (???) last night hadn't come to find me.
According to the book, Devyn did, indeed, love horseback riding. He would go out almost any day that the weather allowed, usually with his favorite "groom." I think that's a servant who helps with the horses and stables and such. They'd be gone for hours just enjoying each other's company and conversation and the outdoors.
Granted, the language is pretty flowery and overly ornate, but that might just be the way people described things at the time. By today's standards, you'd almost think that Devyn and the groom were on the verge of having a homosexual affair. There are a lot of comments like "the sound of his voice thrills my soul," or "my heart stills when he looks into my eyes," and such. If that kind of language was used today, you'd say that Devyn had a huge crush on this guy, if not suffering from unrequited love.
When you read between the lines a little, too, it actually comes across as pretty hot. There are tidbits here and there describing conversations that almost but don't quite get to the question of physical attraction. Descriptions of the groom rubbing down the horses after a long ride make you think Devyn wanted the same treatment. Was Devyn riding horses because he enjoyed it, to be close to the man he admired, or a combination of the two? The diary was just vague enough to draw any of these conclusions or all of them.
It's kind of slow reading, though. I'm having trouble getting used to his small handwriting, and I keep having to stop and go back to re-read lines to get the flow of what Devyn was trying to say. The spellings of some of the words are a little different, and he sometimes uses the "long s" that looks almost the same as the letter "f." He's very descriptive, though, and it's hard not to like him when he's describing his life once you can make everything out.
When I was interrupted to go and take supper, I paused in front of his portrait before leaving the room. The person who came to get me came to stand just behind me. There was a cold breeze on my neck at the same time I heard him whisper, "He was handsome, wasn't he?"
"He absolutely was," was my answer. I stood still, Devyn's piercing eyes holding me in place. One was hazel, and the other green. How hadn't I noticed that before? The chill breeze was with me again, and I continued to examine the painting, looking for new details.
Warm lips brushed my ear, snapping me out of my trance. "Come take some food, sir." A hand took my wrist and led me to the dining room.
November 4, morning
What a night!
After eating, I settled in, expecting to read Devyn's diary some more to see what I could learn of this man and how he might have "failed to do his duty." Almost as soon as I opened the book, there was a knock at my door.
"Please come in." After all, I was a guest here. The least I could do was try to be reasonably polite to the staff who were catering to my whims.
The handsome man who had previously flirted with me entered the room. Once I gave him my attention, it was remarkable how closely he resembled Devyn's portrait. The hair was different (short and red instead of long and blonde), but the eyes were exactly the same two different colors. One was hazel, and the other was green. His lips were set in a similar slight smile (or was it a small smirk) as he crossed to stand below the portrait.
"I wondered if you would like something after your meal tonight," he said simply, in a low and carefully articulated voice. "Some brandy? Warm milk? Maybe just some friendly company in this large house?"
Putting it simply, I chose the third option. And his companionship was VERY friendly. It wasn't long before our hands were entwined, pulling each other close into kisses that were gentle at first but grew more heated.
As I gave myself entirely to his attentions, I could feel the cold air of the persistent drafts caressing my body, and it felt like another pair of hands, mirroring our actions on each other. It was doubly exhilarating as warm hands held my shoulders tightly while what felt like cold hands pulled my hips into him.
When my lips closed on the head of his cock, it felt like chilled lips covered mine, too. The cold enveloped the length of my shaft as I took this servant's cock into my throat. The cool sensations mirrored my own actions as I lustily sucked on the servant's member. When I pulled him sharply into my face, the line of cold sensations slid quickly down my shaft. When I pulled back slowly, the chill pulled slowly back away from me.
His fingers writhed through my hair, massaging my scalp as I knelt before him. I savored the taste of his rigid flesh. It occurred to me that I didn't even know his name, but I was more focused on pleasing myself by pleasuring him with my mouth.
I could feel him shiver as I took his length as far into my throat as our positions would allow. "Master," the house servant breathed heavily. "Call me Collin." How had he known what I had just been thinking?
My lips released his dick with an audible sound. I stood slowly to look into his face. A welcome cold seemed to envelop my entire body, and my mind felt detached from my body for a moment. "Kiss me, Collin," I heard myself say. "Let us make love tonight in case we never have the chance again."
The chill retreated from my body as Collin led me to the bed. He positioned me onto the bed on my hands and knees, and I closed my eyes. As Collin knelt behind me and began tonguing my hole to prepare me for penetration, I buried my face into two cool pillows. My tongue instinctively began working the crevice between the pillows, as if I were doing the same thing to someone else.
After several minutes, the tongue left my hole, and I could hear and feel Collin positioning himself to mount me. I raised up onto my hands and leaned back, signaling I was ready.
As Collin entered my waiting and willing insides, a cold (but not uncomfortably so) and tight feeling enveloped my own cock. Collin's warm, rough hands grasped at my hips, and what felt like colder, smooth hands grasped my shoulders. As Collin's hips began to grind against my ass, what felt like cool hips began to grind against my front.
The competing sensations were almost overwhelming. My brain felt fuzzy, as if I were drunk to the point of being as much an observer of the actions as a participant. It was almost an out-of-body experience. I opened my eyes as Collin began to slide in and out of me and was thrilled, shocked, and titillated at the same time.
Below me was the naked form of Devyn the man from the portrait though his features seemed slightly blurred or indistinct. The hair that was blond in the picture was somewhat ashen below me, and it drifted about his head as if he were underwater. Devyn's multi-colored eyes were clear, though, and they looked piercingly into mine as he lifted his translucent hips against my body, matching Collin's rhythm. Faint forms of limbs encircled my body, embracing me in their chilly grasp.
I began pushing my hips forward into the ghostly form of Devyn, and Collin held more still so that I could set the pace. As the proverbial middle man, I slid forward off of Colin as my cock pushed into the space Devyn's form occupied. As I pulled back from Devyn and warmth came back to the front of my body, Collin's dick slid back inside of me.
The form of Devyn raised his head, and I felt the wisps of his lips brush mine. I returned his kiss as best I could. His head slowly fell back again, and his two-colored eyes continued staring into mine with a desire and need that transcended the moment.
The competing sensations of Collin and Devyn's spirit were quickly bringing me to climax. As I fought against it, trying not to disappoint either the living or the dead, I heard Collin from behind me.
"I can't hold it back," he panted.
Taking him at his word, I worked my hips faster. Within seconds, Collin planted his hands on my lower back and thrust himself as deeply into me as he could, crying out wordlessly. I ground my ass against him, taking his essence into me while using his cock as a prostate massager and bringing myself over the edge.
As I began to shoot, coldness enveloped my body. Devyn's eyes continued to stare into mine as I ejaculated into his form. Again and again, my sperm burst forth from me, and the spirit form beneath me accepted every molecule my body offered.
A look of satisfaction crossed Devyn's indistinct face. Lifting his head, I could feel the cold form leaving from beneath me as he whispered, "Thank you," in a voice that resonated deeply with me.
Devyn faded entirely, and I collapsed onto the bed, breathless. I had been in three ways before, but nothing like this. My brain could barely process the information that my body had been giving it. Breathing heavily, I rolled over onto my back and reached for Collin.
Collin gently laid next to me on his side, leaning on one arm as he looked down at me. Leaning down, he kissed me briefly before drawing back. "Your lips are cold," he remarked.
Collin stayed in my room with me that night. He filled me twice more that night, but Devyn did not return to join us. As we relaxed between our exertions, Collin held me gently, stroking my hair or fondling the various bits of my body. I relaxed into him, finding a comfort with him that I had not known in a long time.
This morning, after he dressed, he gave me a long, gentle kiss, holding my chin in his fingers. He told me that he had duties he needed to attend to, but he would be available to me if I needed or wanted him during the rest of my stay.
I almost asked him to stay with me through the day. He would have, I'm sure, but it wouldn't have been fair for me to keep him from things he needed to do. God, but I'm looking forward to spending more time with him, though.
In the meantime, I have Devyn's diary to keep me company. Time to read some more.
November 5, evening
As if his actions during my first night with Collin didn't make it clear, Devyn's diary confirms that he was gay during a time when that was not accepted. I can't tell if he and his groom ever consummated their relationship, but it's obvious that Devyn was in love with him.
According to Devyn's diary, his family abruptly dismissed the groom from their service and apparently had him run out of town on a proverbial rail. They quickly arranged a marriage for Devyn, but he refused to consent. That must have been what was meant when saying that he "failed in his duty." According to his diary, he would never marry a woman, especially one picked for him by the people who chased away the man he loved.
As this diary ended, Devyn was despondent. He tried to find out what happened to his groom but had no success by the time the book was full. I've spoken to everyone I can find, including Collin, trying to find out more about Devyn's life, but that appears to have been erased from the family's records and lore.
I've spent some time searching through the house, but I've not found any additional volumes of Devyn's diary. Maybe he didn't continue it. Maybe his family destroyed any that they found. Maybe Devyn left Broken Gables and continued writing his thoughts and life wherever he went. There's no way for me to know at this point.
The last line of the diary I have is poignant: "I love you, Collin Berryhill, and I always will." It's dated approximately two years after the first entry.
Reading that line brought goosebumps to my flesh. Collin that's the same name as the man who came to my room the night that Devyn materialized around my dick. Berryhill that's my last name. That's a mighty odd coincidence. Maybe I should look into my family tree and see if there was anyone named "Collin" in my lineage.
Collin and I spent last night together, too. Heaven help me, but I'm already developing some pretty strong emotions for him. I don't think it will be long before I feel about my Collin the way that Devyn felt about his.
He and I have talked about how we can continue seeing each other after my stay here is over in a week and a half. In the meantime, I am looking forward to several more nights of his company.
One more thing: I haven't felt any chills or drafts since the night Devyn, Collin, and I were in bed together.
In death, Devyn got to be with a "Collin" and a "Berryhill." I hope that means that he's found a certain amount of peace. I hope that wasn't to make up for not being able to be with the Collin Berryhill he knew. I hope they were able to find each other again. I hope that his Collin was able to make him as happy as I think my Collin will make me.
I hope. For all our sakes, I hope.