Substitute Servant


“Ah.. please, Ravvi?” Pretti moaned his name, her breath hitching before she continued. “I’ll ooh-“

The man between Pretti’s thighs pulled her tighter against his mouth. Ravvi looked away, a hot blush staining his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why he was standing there watching this instead of finishing his evening chores, but he always seemed to come when Pretti needed him. He adjusted his stance and waited, uncomfortable but riveted in place.

She tugged at the man’s hair, her thigh hitching higher on his shoulder as bliss glazed her eyes. It was a long moment before her eyes focused on Ravvi.

“I’ll own you big time, Ravvi. Just serve the master for me tonight. It’ll be so easy. Please.”

He was stupid. His cock tenting his trousers had him nodding in agreement. “Just this once, Pret. You’ll have to do something for me.”

“Whatever you want.” The way she said it, her eyes hot on him, made his whole body blush. “Whatever you want.”

Turning on his heels, he scurried from her room. The further he moved away, the more his blood cooled and his head cleared. What had he agreed to? The master of the house, Lord Witting of Westerhouse, was a dark, imposing man with a short temper. Ravvi tended the stable and occasionally worked the kitchen so he rarely laid eyes on the tall man. He shuddered as he walked, regret welling up in him. He’d keep his promise though. It was only one night…

Ten minutes later, dressed in the livery befitting one who tended the master of the house, Ravvi arrived at the large double doors of the master’s suite. A quick rap and a voice beckoned him to enter

He drew in a quick breath before pushing the doors inward. He immediately stopped on the threshold, unsure if he should enter.

“Come in and shut the door.” The deep voice called, sending a shiver down his spine. “I fucking hate the chill.”

Ravvi entered the dark room, shutting the doors behind him, but unable to move from the door. Witting was seated before the fireplace, clad only in a red brocade dressing robe that was parted to show his broad chest. The fire made his skin glow in the light, a golden sheen that made him see. His lazy sprawl in the chair did nothing to hide the power and alertness in his frame. Ravvi felt a nervousness that he couldn’t overcome as he gripped the doorknobs behind his back.

“You are not Pretti.” The man didn’t even remove his gaze from the fire, disinterest coloring his voice.

Swallowing around a fry throat, Ravvi rushed to answer “Pretti is… she is indisposed. I am her replacement for the evening. Ravvi at your service.”

His reply drew a deep laugh from the man which startled Ravvi. What about that was funny?

The laughter cut off abruptly and golden eyes turned to him. Ravvi startled again, surprised by the intensity of the gaze suddenly turned on him. He felt like a bug beneath a magnifying glass, the strength of the sun focused on his body, threatening to set him on fire.

“Come here.”

It was a command that Ravvi immediately obeyed, moving to standing to the side of the man’s chair. The man examined him closely as he stood still, awaiting instruction. It was like he was trying to make a decision, the silence heavy with his contemplation.

“A worthy substitute.” Ravvi tried to keep his face from twitching as confusion swamped him. He only had to tend to the man as Pretti normally did, it shouldn’t be a difficult task beyond his duties in the stable.

“Come closer.” The man pointed to the spot directly in front of him. As Ravvi moved closer, the man parted his thighs and beckoned. “Here.”

Ravvi hesitated for a moment before standing in the spot created for him. He was close now, too close. He could make out the way his lashes created shadows on his sharp cheeks, see the way the light made his black hair shine, and trace the contours of his bare chest with his eyes.

“Kneel, Ravvi.”

For the millionth time since he entered the room, Ravvi startled. Because of the look in Lord Witting’s eyes, because of his request, and mostly because of the way he said his name.


His words were cut short when Witting parted his dressing gown and reveal the jut of his cock. Ravvi was speechless.

“Pretti didn’t tell you how she tends to me, did she?” A large hand went to Ravvi’s shoulder, applying pressure until he was forced to his knees between those strong thighs. “Naughty girl.”

That hard cock was right in his face. Ravvi wasn’t sure what he felt, his brain too muddled by shock to tease out what lay beneath it. Not that the man whose thighs bracketed his shoulders would give him time to figure out. No, long before Ravvi could arrive anywhere with his thoughts, a firm hand was at his nape, drawing him forward.

“Do I need to instruct you?” Those dark eyes reflected the golden light, something knowing glinting in their depths. “Surely you know how to use your mouth.”

So close her could see the blood pumping through the veins lining his cock. So close he could smell his musk. Ravvi shuddered as that heat transformed into something that settled in the pit of his stomach.

Heat suffused Ravvi’s face. The man couldn’t know the things Ravvi did…

Before his mind registered his body moving, Ravvi’s lips were parting for the head being guided into his mouth. It was strange to hear him echoing the Lord’s moans as cock slid along his tongue, coming as if from a distance.

Ravvi was stopped from taking him deeper by a hand clenched in his hair. He opened eyes he hadn’t realized he closed, to see smirk and deep pleasure in Witting’s eyes. “Be a good boy and suck me well. Can you do that?”

He felt drunk as he nodded, his lips closing tight. The hand in his hair guided him as he sought only to please his Lord.


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