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Pimp and Pimpernel

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“Edmund! There you are! Look, my darling. I’ve got a job for you.” Aunt Margaret opened the door and barged straight in with an air of emergency, just when Blackadder was about to button his shirt.

“God, auntie, I’m barely decent. Is this the way you usually treat your customers? Walking in to check if they have caught syphilis yet?” Blackadder pull his trousers up under the bed cover like a young boy caught by his mother when masturbating.

“You’re in a brothel. No one should speak about decency here. Now, listen, you know Norman, the new boy?”

“Tall, dark, like a bear with triple amount of body hair?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Norman was supposed to have this appointment tonight but he couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, why? Was he mistaken as the Bigfoot and had his head cut off and displayed on a wall?”

“No, he had his willy jammed by the door this afternoon. Poor lad. I was afraid that we would lose one of our greatest asset. It almost broke in half! I always say there’re risks when bringing in new segments to a business and I have to say our buggery branch was looking very promising with Norman the nailer, Paul the pumper, and Sean the sucker. Those boys are really in so much demand these days. God knows how Britain’s got so many buggers.”

“So you’re asking me to find you a new catamite on short notice?” Blackadder put on his boots and frowned at his aunt.

“Ah, well, very close really. I was thinking if you could do me this little favour.” Aunt Margret gestured at Molly the prostitute to leave the room.

“You can’t possibly mean... no, no, no, what’re you thinking, my dear aunt? Do I bear any resemblance to your Norman who looks like a winner of the most baboon-like competition which only has two candidates—him and a real baboon. And why do you think I’m the one for this job? Get Justin. He’ll be alright.”

“Justin can’t do this sort of thing! This customer required a dominant strong muscular gent, not a weeny blubbing gnome!”

“Auntie, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not a male prostitute even though I played in the brothel before I could say the word— fuck. I’m sorry. But you need to find someone else.”

“Oh, Edmund. How could you be so cruel to your old aunt! I raised you and give you a twelve percent discount every time you’re here! It’s nothing unbearable even for a womaniser like you. Get him a good whip or two and maybe spanky-spank on the bottom. Nothing else. He’s probably a Lord, you know. I can’t lose this customer. The business is going down these days and what should I do with all these girls?” Aunt Margret dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.

“A lord, you say?” Blackadder stopped at the door.

“Yes, I think so. Posh and camp. Clearly a fop. You can handle him without even trying. He only asked for the recreational scolding service and refused my special offer of horizontal sprinting with only an extra of 30 Guineas. It’s weird that usually people go for the latter rather than the foreplay. Anyway, he’s very young. Probably looking for a change of taste. It should be a piece of cake for you.” Aunt Margret looked up at him with obviously fake tears.

“Just crack the whip and nothing else?”

“Yes. Just this simple.”

Blackadder raised an eyebrow. “And the fee?”

“All yours this time. I’m only trying to get another regular customer. This boy business is very hard to maintain.”

“Good. I’ll take it.”

“Oh, Edmund. My little sweetheart. What could I do without you.” The old woman pecked Blackadder on his cheek.

“Another thing before we get weepy and teary to lie about how much we love each other, auntie. Don’t you breathe a word to all the girls. If they know I take this job, I can only be hanging with your boys in the future.”


“Where were you, Edmund! He’s already here! Get changed!” Aunt Margret ushered him in.

“What, this early? Oh God, he’ll probably have me for supper.” Blackadder nervously hung his cape on the hatstand.

“Don’t be silly. You’re the one with whips this time. Justin’s got quite a sound whip last time and we had to forget this whole idea of BYO. Someone brought a string of German sausages.”

“Yes, poor chap. Where is this Lord now?” Blackadder removed his jacket, wearing only his waistcoat and shirt.

“Upstairs. In the pimpernel suite.”

“The pimpernel suite? You’re not trying to catch the abominable trend of worshipping this brain-damaged French-rescuing Mr showoff Scarlet Pimpernel, are you?” Blackadder snorted with contempt.”

“He’s really popular at the moment. Many of our customers enjoyed our French dungeon themed services.” Aunt Margret led him upstairs.

“Yes, throwing garlic at them and forcing them to wear a pair of simple trousers with no lace can be really kinky.” Blackadder got down and tried to peek through the keyhole to see his customer tonight.

“Oh my God. It’s Blakeney!”

“You knew him?”

“No, but apparently he’s a close friend to the prince these days and the last thing I want to get fired for is whipping the prince fathead’s friends in a brothel. Even worse than being fired for pissing in his bath.”

“You’ve pissed in his bath?”

“No, it was his tea. I can’t do this, auntie.”

“Em, what about covering your face? Then he’ll never recognise you.”

“What, a mask? That’s brilliant. Fetch me one now.”

“I’m afraid we don’t have any masks at the moment, Edmund.”

“What? I thought you were having a scarlet pimpernel themed orgy and you told me you haven’t got any masks?”

“We’re not celebrating the batman, aren’t we? Or having an eyes-wide-shut party. The Scarlet pimpernel doesn’t need a mask. He never reveals his face along with other parts of him in public.”

“Yeah, except his huge ego. Now, do you have anything else, a piece of cloth to cover my lower face perhaps?”

“Um, what about a bag?”

“A bag?”

“Yes, I think we have a flour bag somewhere in the kitchen.”

“Alright. Alright.”


He was about to go in then his aunt approached him.

“Edmund, I think you should know that we recently adopt a new customer policy.” Aunt Margret whispered.

“What is it now?” Blackadder rolled his eyes beneath the flour bag.

“Well, it’s very simple. Spend and spend. Ejaculate or compensate.”

“What does it mean? It’s a brothel rather than a FMCG MNC. You don’t need policies. The only policy you need is no pay no pussy.”

“If our customer can’t come, then we have to refund.”

“God damn it. How did you come up with that? I can see why your business is going worryingly. If you’re really trying to expand your business, all you have to do is to find someone to cook your book then get listed at the LSE. Not this rubbish.”

“We need a better corporate image. A modern company should be economically stimulating, socially responsible, and environmentally friendly. We’ve conducted employee trainings and bribed the chief inspector and we never make too much noise in the evening after the watershed.”

“What did I say about those MBA courses? You sit down, you open the book, and you flirt with others to get more customers like everyone else. Not taking notes and doing the homework by yourself. Everyone’s hiring college students to do it. It’s like a new brothel out there, matching students and dim-witted company executives who can only play golf and shout in really loud voices these days.”


He opened the door and walked in with every muscle tightened. The room was decorated with scarlet and black. Heavy curtains blocked the street light and the only source of light came from those small candles burning quietly on the nightstand.

The other man in this room was looking at those whips and canes placed neatly by the wall, seemed deep in thought. He was then startled by the sound of the door closed.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” Sir Percy turned around and almost immediately frowned at him. “You’re wearing a bag.”

Blackadder had to nod. He’d rather not speak at the moment. All he wanted was to get over with it quickly and went home with fifty Guineas.

“Shall we start or perhaps we should shake hands? Oh, I haven’t asked you your name.” Sir Percy extended his hand.

Blackadder shook his head and the room fell into silence.

They both didn’t move, staring at each other awkwardly across the room.

“Do you want me to move to the bed?” The baronet looked at the bed which has chains and handcuffs and other things scattered on it that made him blush a little.

Blackadder closed his eyes and breathed deeply to prepare for his worst evening. He guessed he had to do it somehow.

He walked across the room, coming straight at the man who was still standing where he was minutes ago. His customer watched him with alert. It almost looked like two bulls coming at each other in a bullring, ready to lock horns.

He stood in front of his customer, turning his head aside. And the baronet followed his eyes to see the torture collection next to them.

They were both strained as if selecting the weapons to have a dual.

Blackadder let him choose with a gesture. And he could almost see the discomfort on the other man’s face.

Eventually, after a visible mental struggle, Sir Percy picked a heavy whip rather than the riding crop he was eyeing first.

Blackadder smiled beneath the bag he was wearing. How funny it is to see those lords still trying to prove their manliness and courage even with the cost of getting raw and bleeding.

He gave the baronet a long hard stare and picked up the riding crop instead.

Sir Percy looked at him with a little smile and put down the cat-o’-nine.

“Do your worst, sir.”

Yes, indeed. Now that Blackadder already gave in on the choice of “with what”, he shouldn’t go easy on “how”.

He thought it was for the best that they don’t say anything in the process so he decided to remain silent.

Blackadder pointed to the bed but Sir Percy only slowly walked over and sat on the end of it, looking up at him with almost a stupid innocence.

For Christ’s sake, it’s a brothel. Get on with it.

Blackadder sighed and thought to himself that if he wants something done then he has to do it himself. He was dying to get out of here and have a drink on the way home with the fifty Guineas he earns this evening.

He relaxed his muscles and pushed off all those little fancy gadgets on the bedcovers to the floor. The baronet watched those peculiar-shaped objects rolling on the floor with his eyes widened.

Blackadder pushed him down to the bed and started to undress him with efficiency just like his daily routine with the drunk prince as a valet.

“Look, Sir, I.. I hope we can take it slowly.”

What a whoopsie! Blackadder didn’t slow his hands at all while taking off the man’s shirt.

When he moved to remove the trousers, the man grabbed his hands subconsciously to defend his honour.

At that moment, one thought popped to Blackadder’s mind as why this weak feeble dim-witted posh boy who clearly had no experiences whatsoever wanted to have an appointment with a male prostitute in the first place. But, well, the thought didn’t linger long enough. The fifty Guineas belong to him and he can’t let this fat goose fly away.

Blackadder ignored the baronet’s reluctance and dragged down his trousers and underwear with celerity. When he turned to peel off the man’s socks, he found his customer shield his private part with both hands.

What a poof.

When the man was stark naked in front of Blackadder with his member covered by both hands, there came a strong impulse to roll his eyes. He hauled him up to the middle of the bed and then rolled him over to make him face the bedsheet. Sir Percy withdrew his hands and secretly peeped through his hair to see what Blackadder was doing beside him.

When the riding crop landed on his back, he cried out rather loudly. Sensing the man standing next to the bed let out an inevitable sigh that sounded like snorting, Sir Percy mumbled out an apology.

The second whip came more smoothly, he straighten up to take it like a man who was used to and could enjoy these sort of things.

This idea of researching on male prostitution was ridiculous. All his boys lowered their heads and said something about weather or appointments with girlfriends when came the mission of pretending to be a male prostitute to provide services to a minister of the French revolutionary government to gather information about the plans of the new prison. What could a leader do when everyone else are prevaricating and finding excuses? So here he was, in a brothel with a man who had a bag on his head.

He tried to enjoy this. This idea of gaining pleasure from being whipped is not an attractive one. He couldn’t even think of one reason why anyone should like this. He had no clue why Lord Byron recommended this place. Maybe poets need inspirations from being hanged upside down and had his bottom fondled.

Another whip on his back brought him back to reality. It really hurt. But since he was here, he deserved a good time. He tried to imagine petite women and soft delicate hands on his thighs or perhaps plump breasts pressed against his back. But no, it didn’t work. Those fantasies dated back to his time in school didn’t help at all. With no real experiences, any imaginations are vain and hopeless.


Blackadder, on the other hand, didn’t enjoy this as well. Seeing the man lying there being flogged like a dead slug was not a heartwarming sight.

If he is really to follow the customer policy of “no cum and no guinea”, he probably needs to think of something else since this dead slug obviously has fewer experiences in sex than a paramecium which reproduces by cell division.

He dragged the riding crop across the dead slug’s lower back and good, he saw the virgin shiver under the touch. Blackadder had no idea why the baronet asked for being whipped instead of getting a nanny to kiss and hug her little Percy. He raised the riding crop aiming for the bottom and surprisingly, little Percy let out a moan.


For a moment, Sir Percy just wanted to pull up his trousers and leave. This whole idea was horribly wrong and humiliating. Having your back flogged by a man with a flour bag on his head was creepy and weird. It was like having a whole-body massage with riding crops. He had no idea why he volunteered to take this task and he would get ridiculed by his squad for lying about his wonderful experiences here. Everyone knew he had no women before and therefore no matter what he says, they’ll be able to tell it’s a lie immediately.

But then, he suddenly felt something different when the man with the bag on his head whipped him on his behind. A shiver up his spine the moment the riding crop touched his skin. It almost felt good compared to all those lashes in his back. He could sense his stomach tightening and a certain part of him was getting warmer.

The riding crop stopped. He looked up from the pillow and found the man was sitting on the chaise longue by the bed, beckoning him over.

Clearly the posh boy had no idea what he should be doing here. Blackadder thought for one second that probably a fat bald conservative coming at him and buggering him to death was less painful than having to take care of one useless prat.

He signalled his customer over at the chaise longue. And guess what Sir Percy did? He shyly sat next to him and lowered his face to have his eyes glued to the floor. Oh for God’s sake. Blackadder always thought those fops were all professional womanisers like the prince or at least had some basic senses about what to do. But this famous dandy macaroni who had his photograph printed under the definition of “fop” in the dictionary, acted like a three-year-old in a brothel, literally had no clue what to do.

He sighed for about the millionth time in one night, making a mental note to self that never never have sex for money again or this shit will come up. He grabbed the virgin’s hair and made him bend down on his laps, with bottom up. And it’s spanky time.

The other man’s whole body went tense for a second, as if putting up defences to prepare for an attack. Blackadder quickly stroked his neck and shoulders to make him relaxed. He didn’t want to have a bloody nose.

He didn’t go very hard for it. He could still see those red curly lines smouldering on the baronet’s smooth pale back that proved to be vain. He hoped this could work or he would never get those money.

Blackadder felt something hard pressed against the side of his thigh after five slaps and was amazed to see the baronet softened the grasp of the fabric of the chair. Blackadder stroke circles on the pink skin where his hand had been moments ago and his virgin rubbed himself against his thigh almost uncontrollably.

He also couldn’t help but to breathe heavily to see this scene of a grown man on his laps grinding himself against him just like a poodle. At one moment, he forgot what to do.

But they were his third best trousers and he hated to have a prat come on it. Blackadder flipped his customer around, seeing his face blushed red and made him sit between his legs. He watched the virgin slowly took himself in his hands and giving himself a good stroke. The moves didn't look very proficient and somehow suited a naive fop. He spanked the man once again and saw the baronet shut his eyes tightly at the pain.

The skin of his backside was smooth and firm. Blackadder played with it, scratching his fingers across the surface and digging a little bit deeper between the crack to get a handful of soft flesh. Sir Percy grabbed the front of Blackadder’s shirt and leant against him, burying his burning face between the space of other man’s arm and chest.

Blackadder let himself be pushed backwards with his virgin on top of him. He had both hands on the baronet’s buttocks, pinching and rubbing the flesh. It was a pretty sight. The customer hovered above him and sat on his hips, grinding himself against Blackadder’s crotch. He had long forgotten this recreational scolding services which both of them clearly had little interests in. Damn this all, he was also trying to have a good time here. He was glad to see Sir Percy was learning, who led Blackadder’s hands from back to the front to touch his swelling cock. Shortly after, the baronet collapsed on him, leaving cum on Blackadder’s lower abdomen.

“Could I see your face?” Once he gained his breath, Sir Percy asked.

Blackadder felt tight in his trousers with the other man sitting on it and didn’t answer.

“So, that’s a yes then?” The customer raised his arm to lift Blackadder’s bag but was stopped.

“Alright, at least tell me your name.”

Blackadder pushed him over and got up to straighten his clothes. He felt upset somehow in this suffocating room. He needed a bit of fresh air now.

Just before he opened the door, the baronet dragged at his shirt sleeve.

“Your fee, sir.”


When he saw Sir Percy again, it was only two days later. The prince rang the bell for tea and when he carried the tray into the prince’s bedroom, he found Sir Percy lying on his stomach on the prince’s bed with a glass of wine in hand.

“Ah, chaps. It’s my valet Blackadder. Awfully clever. Just the man we need.” The prince pointed him to Sir Percy and Sir Neil, who both looked at him with interests.

“Blackadder, we were just talking about who this mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel is. Do you have any ideas? Perhaps rumours among the servants?” The prince asked.

“No, sir. But if you call out of the window to spread the news of crowning him the biggest showoff in London, I’m sure he’ll reveal himself eventually to accept the title.” Blackadder glanced at Sir Percy to make sure he didn’t recognise him at all.

“George, it seems your servant doesn’t think very highly of the Scarlet Pimpernel,” Sir Percy said to the prince.

Blackadder realised that he shouldn’t stare at the baronet’s bottom for too long.

“I’m sorry to say this, sir, but yes indeed.”

“And why? He’s a hewo, wescuing the aristocrats from the hands of those wuthless organised killers. Doesn’t it deserve your wespect?”

Blackadder frowned at this speech impediment. If he remembered correctly, Sir Percy didn’t have this two days ago. But he spoke nothing of it.

“Compared to him, I’d rather pay respect to the prince, who, after all, supports thousands of lives of British folks by his daily consumptions.”

The prince unexpectedly took this as a compliment and nodded happily to this.

Both sirs laughed along with the prince, but Blackadder was sure Sir Percy gave him a disgusted look.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir. But your dogs got into a fight and I think you should like to see it.” The maid walked in.

Both the prince and Sir Neil ran off to catch this rare opportunity to place a bet. Sir Percy stopped in front of him before passing through the door.

“You’d better watch your tongue, sir.”

“Thanks for your advice, sir. I’m merely afwaid that the Scarlet Pimpernel’s head will explode after all those pwaises he’s got.”

Blackadder thought about that night and could hardly have any respect to this useless toff.

“You’re a servant, man. You should know your place. The prince may be a fool but don’t you think you can talk to us that way. I’ll be watching you. Hold your tongue in the future or the prince will hear about this.”

Sir Percy glared at him and put down the red wine glass on the tray he was holding.


“Edmund, where were you these days? Do I have to send someone for you then you’ll come. Don’t you even remember to visit your good old aunt?” Aunt Margret took over his coat by the door.

“What is it this time? I thought you were dying. If you want me to lend you my money, I’m sorry I haven’t got any. If you want me to lend you my dick, I’m sorry I forgot to bring it with me today.”

“Funny you should say about your genital, guess what? That posh boy was making a fuss upstairs, crying for you. What charm have you got onto him? Seems so obsessed with you.”

“Look, I’m not freelancing for you. Last time is the last. Now go upstairs and tell him I’m dead.”

“Madam. I’m leaving.” A voice came above them.

“No, wait, darling. He’s here.”

Blackadder glared at his very dear aunt who handed him a flour bag.

“If you have any daughters, they’ll be riding lardy smelly old men now, won’t they?”

“Yeah, but my nephew will go upstairs and take care of my customer if he still wants to have a special discount in the future.”

“I want thirty percent off.”




He opened the door and found Sir Percy sat on the end of the bed, waiting for him in silence.

“Where have you been? I’ve come here three times and they all tell me you aren’t here.”

Blackadder didn’t say a word. He had no idea how this farce was supposed to end.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Sir Percy suddenly confessed, which left Blackadder quite a shock.

“I’ve never experienced such a thing and I was hoping we could continue what we were having last time.” He dropped his eyes and looked at a greasy spot on the carpet.

Blackadder was having a mental struggle at the moment, though he had to admit that doing it with the baronet can be an enjoyable activity and being able to get a handsome fee from it was also pleasant. But this whole idea was ridiculous. About a week ago, the same person in front of him threatened to report him to the prince. And now, standing with him in a brothel, confessing forbidden emotion to him in a clingy way?

He was really itchy to say piss off. But since he dared not to speak again for fear of getting recognised, the only way left was to let his hair down and enjoy himself as a gent of this wild fancy time.

Blackadder pushed the baronet onto the bed and undressed himself while standing in front of him. His virgin took the hint quickly this time and was eager to get out of his clothes with the same speed.

“What do you have for me this time?” Sir Percy was not shy to reveal himself as candlelight coated him with a vague shadow all around his long body.

Blackadder turned to inspect the drawers and found a small bottle of clear liquids. Then throw it at the man in the bed.

“You’re not coming up?” The baronet asked.

The man standing shook his head.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

He watched the man didn’t say or do anything, just staring back at him with nothing on but a bag on his head.

“You’re creepy, aren’t you? I know you can speak. I hear you talking to the madam. No hint?”

Blackadder found it very hard to continue like this. He just had a strange feeling of bursting out of laughters. Playing house with Sir Percy who had no clue about what they were doing now.

He reached out by pulling his ankles to get this virgin nearer and grabbed back the tiny bottle from the noble man’s hand.

“What do you have there?” Sir Percy looked at him holding a plug.

With just the perfect amount of lubricant on, Blackadder swiftly thrust the plug in with almost no time left for the baronet to prepare.

The other man held his wrists and almost snapped them in half. Blackadder let out a hiss.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready.” The virgin dared not to move with a plug up his bottom but saw the other man back off.

“Wait.” When he noticed the man didn’t move back, he was desperate to please him.

He pushed the plug deeper himself while never breaking eye contact with the man, or just staring at where the other man’s eyes should be beneath the bag. He could feel his partner breathing heavily and his member was aroused.

“Am I doing alright?” He asked while gasping for air.

He was over the moon when he saw the other man nodded slightly.

The baronet fell back to the bed and continued to play with himself, not hiding every pleased moan out of his mouth.


“I want to see you next Thursday evening. Will you be available at that time?” Sir Percy said to him while leaving small kisses on the red lines scratched out by fingernails earlier just beneath his shoulder blades.

Blackadder thought about this for a while then nodded.

“Why don’t you speak to me? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but fortunately, I didn’t make out a word of what you were saying. I only know you have a lovely gentle voice.”

Blackadder rolled out of the bed and started to don his clothes.

to be continued