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WARNING: This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. Contains M/M scenes, graphic language, group sex, mild bondage, non consent, orgy, and anal sex, all of which may be considered offensive by some readers.
All sexually active characters in this work are at least 18 years of age.
This book is copyright © Shabbu 2010
Second edition published by BarbarianSpy, at Smashwords, in 2010.
Cover design by S Bush © 2010
Cover Photo © 123rf
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Despoiling David
by Shabbu
Chapter One: Hatterfield School, England
“I don’t quite know what to say, Headmaster,” Edith Summerhill said. “David has always been such a quiet, polite, docile boy.”
“Well, of course he’s no longer a boy,” the headmaster said in a gentle voice. “Your brother has reached his eighteenth birthday now. And it isn’t that he’s a bad lad at all. It’s rather than he perhaps is too polite and docile—too willing to follow and be influenced by others—for a young man his age, and perhaps too young and, shall we say pretty looking. I fear he is too trusting and ready to accommodate. He really needs some toughening up; he needs to get out of an environment like Hatterfield School. He is, I think, too vulnerable to, you know, certain, shall we say . . . sins . . . here.”
The headmaster pursed his lips and looked beseechingly at the handsome man sitting beside the young Miss Summerhill across his desk. The Summerhills had been sending their young men to Hatterfield for centuries, and the family had been a backbone for the finances of the school. He really was acting in the interests of her brother, young David. He only wished the parents were still alive. He knew they would have understood and acted immediately.
Edith Summerhill looked quite confused, and then her expression changed and she blushed. “But there aren’t that many young women around, are there? This is a boys’ school.”
“Quite,” the headmaster answered.
Edith’s expression returned to the confused.
The headmaster may have looked calm and fatherly, but he was completely out of his depth in discussing anything like this with a refined young woman like Edith Summerhill. He thus looked once more to the other man in the room, the somewhat older, more mature solicitor for the Summerhill family estates, William Stewart.
William Stewart delicately cleared his throat and put a calming hand on Edith’s forearm. Edith indeed did look like she was about to have a case of the vapors. “What Headmasters is trying to tell us, Edith dear, is that it’s time that David start taking up a life. You know that as comely and shy a lad as he is, he could do with a bit more worldliness before he goes on to university. The Summerhills are active merchants and stewards of the land. What Headmaster is saying is that we need to take David out of Hatterfield and start him onto the road to taking his place at the head of the Summerhill holdings and enterprises. I’m sure it’s what your parents would have wanted.”
“But he’s always been so different—so gentle and sensitive,” Edith said. “Papa, I think, saw that. I don’t think he expected David—”
“Oh, of course I know how special David is,” Stewart said to her gently. “I’ve been your family solicitor and friend for years. I’ve dawdled David on my knee. I’ve dawdled you on my knee.”
Edith blushed and looked down at the hand that now, somewhat ironically, was on her knee.
“And, as the family solicitor, I spoke to your father many times about the future of the Summerhills. You know that, I’m sure. And we’ve spoken of it too, you and I. We have been discussing what we should do. Perhaps it’s time to go out to the colonies, to check on the family’s Malay rubber plantations—maybe take up residence there for a few years. It would be a perfect thing for David to do know, if I understand Headmaster correctly.”
Both Edith and Stewart looked up at the headmaster, who nodded his head vigorously. Malaya was, in fact, far enough away to defuse his problem of the older boys at the school sniffing around the very, very ripe—and overly willing—young Mr. David Summerhill and threatening catastrophe for Hatterfield.
Still turned facing the headmaster and now taking one of Edith’s delicate hands in both of his, Stewart beamed and said, “As you perhaps do not know yet, Headmaster, Edith has consented to marry me in two months time, and I will be helping the family more closely with the running of the Summerhill affairs. We had discussed the need to survey the family’s holdings. We hadn’t decided where to begin, but your call to us is perhaps fortuitous and a sign. We can start in Malaya. And David can start with us there. We can be a family complete.”
Both the headmaster and Stewart beamed even if Edith still looked a little dubious and befuddled.
“My, my, a wedding in just two month’s time,” the headmaster said. “My congratulations. And that will mean I’m sure, that you will need David with you in anticipation of the festivities. I will see to having his trunks packed immediately.”
Edith thanked the headmaster profusely, both grateful and impressed by his eagerness to serve her family. William Stewart was equally quick to thank the headmaster for his quick service—while understanding fully the source of the man’s hurry to pack the young man out. All in all, Stewart was quite pleased with this turn of events. He was even far from displeased at what the headmaster was trying to convey, without saying, about the character and vulnerability of the young David.
Chapter Two: Thomas, Summerhill Reach, Malaya
I was shocked when I heard that Edith had married the family solicitor, William Stewart. She was now bound to a man quite a few years older, one I did not respect as a man, and one I knew her parents, Laurence Summerhill and his wife, Marjorie, would never have approved of for their daughter. I had known them well enough to be certain of that. Had the Summerhills not availed themselves of the Stewart firm as their solicitors for generations, I am sure a man of William’s unsavory personal reputation would not have been given access to their lives.
I also wondered why Edith’s brother David was coming to Malaya with them, when he should have been going on to university. I would find that all out when they returned to Malaya, and Summerhill Reach.
While Laurence had paid scant attention to his daughter, he had been closely attentive to his son and had, I know, been worried at how shy and otherworldly the lad was. Once he had told me that his son was too pretty by far, and I suppose only I could understand why that bothered Laurence so.
When they arrived, I discovered the grown David was all blondness and patrician beauty recalling the Michelangelo statue of the same name, the daughter, Edith, was raven-haired and alabaster skinned, the spitting image of her mother Marjorie, whom I adored. And thus I was never able to look at the delicate young Edith without seeing her mother and smiling.
I had been at the Summerhill Reach plantation almost from the beginning and had known Edith and David as small children before Laurence and Marjorie took them back to England. The family had returned there to provide the children a proper education, and because Laurence wanted a bigger hand in the financial side of the rubber business. After eight years as a planter Laurence had become a force in the Malayan rubber industry.
When Henri Fauconnier and Franck Posth disembarked in Singapore in 1905 to become rubber tree planters, Michelin had just created rubber tires to be used on motor cars, and the demand for rubber was booming.
Henri and Franck promptly saw the advantages Malaya had to offer for rubber planting and quickly settled in Rantau Panjang beyond the Selangor River. This was the first plantation outside the swampy and poor lowlands of the coastal area, and Laurence George Blenheim Summerhill, along with many others, saw the opportunities in what Henri and Franck were doing and were not far behind them.
Malaya was a place for young men wanting to make their fortune, or find adventure away from home, and Laurence was in Malaya to do both.
We had met at Hatterfield boarding school in England, I had been thirteen and in my first year and a shy, easily teased young boy and Laurence had been a top football player and dux of the school and in his final year. And in his final year he had taken me under his wing, protecting me, and giving me a standing in the school that had lasted for my whole time there, and I had idolized him. Surprisingly, we had kept in touch when Laurence left.
After university Laurence had gone to Malaya to spend some time with his farther who was an adviser to one of the Sultans, and not long afterward I went up to Oxford University. But while Malaya agreed with Laurence, Oxford did not agree with me. And when the death of my father meant a sudden fall in the family fortunes, I left Oxford, and against my family’s advice, but encouraged by Laurence, I sailed for Malaya to join him.
Laurence and his wife, Marjorie, were well known among the English residents and Laurence knew the country, so when he decided he wanted to start his own rubber plantation, he had easily obtained the lease of a large parcel of suitable land along with a sizeable investment from his father and several of their English acquaintances. He wrote me then that his estate was to be called Summerhill Reach, and would one day be one of the finest rubber plantations in Malaya, and he invited me to join him as his overseer.
When I arrived at Summerhill Reach three months later Laurence greeted me like a long lost brother. We had both changed, but I still recognized him. I was now a young man, not a boy, but he was still a man I could idolize—mature, confident, and bronzed, well muscled from outdoor work and immensely happy. We’d barely shaken hands when he hurried to show me about what seemed to me, a young man who had never left England, a huge estate. I saw too that he had been working hard, as a large part of the land was already cleared and planted, and more was being cleared even as we toured the property. A wooden four-roomed bungalow had also been built by a small lake.