I had planned, as part of our vacation, to take Bobby to White Hall. This is our old family estate in the Hudson River Valley of Dutchess County upstate New York. The 1,300 acre spread is near Hyde Park between the Vanderbilt Mansion and the Mills Mansion out on Route 9, both historical landmarks. I tried to get the place registered as a landmark but did not succeed. The state or the feds didn't want three in a row. And I could not find a buyer willing to pay the 65-million-dollar price the place is worth.
Bobby was looking forward to seeing where I spent a lot of my youth between boarding schools. My great grandparents built the estate in the late 1800's during the country's "Gilded Age." The main house has 55 rooms on four floors in 48,000 square feet. I never use it. There are a lot of bitter memories about the place. It's used mostly for tours, corporate conferences and for anything else people can use it for, if they pay the rental fee.
Bobby loved the place. He could ride a horse, for the first time. He could go sailing on the Hudson and do some water skiing. The main thing he lacked was friends to play with. I tried to get Steve to come out here, but his parents were too scared to let him following Bobby's abduction. Jeffrey was his buddy in place of younger kids. As much as they tried, the six-year age difference wasn't the same as having a bunch of sixteen-year-olds hanging around getting into mischief and having fun.
There was a therapist staying here to help Bobby cope with his abduction experience. But the boy was recovering mentally very quickly. He didn't think the therapist was needed. He'd rather have our close friend Frank, the gay psychologist, talk with him. Frank did a lot of that by phone. But I paid for Frank's time to come to White Hall to counsel my son.
I had Bobby go to a nearby town to play in some youth soccer recreational activities. He went and loved to play with kids his own age. But he hated the idea of going in a limo with a bodyguard. The other kids of modest means seeing Bobby show up to play with an entourage embarrassed him. I didn't blame him. I had to endure the same experience as a child. I had the limo replaced by a Chevy Suburban. That made him happy.
By midsummer most of Bobby's scars from the abduction beating had healed. In past summers at home he would spend most of his time in the briefest clothing. He wore a shirt only if someone forced him. This summer was different. He was far more reserved since the kidnaping and the beating. He was very self conscious about his scars. As the scars healed and disappeared, his clothing came off or was very brief. I liked seeing him going back to his usual self.
The brutal molestation he endured made him more reserved, and he seemed to lose his _s_e_x_ual appetite. Frank's therapy sessions involving Bobby's _s_e_x_uality and his desires, were beginning to open up the boy. Bobby began to talk to me about his long distance conversations with Steve and how much they missed each other in their love making. We were all pleased he was beginning to make a full recovery in that important aspect of his life.
During Bobby's convalescence, I spent a great deal of time improving my golf game and skills at racquetball. I returned to White Hall early one hot, steamy New York summer afternoon and was told Bobby was at the pool. You can't see the pool from the main house. The Olympic-size pool and bath houses are a five minute walk through gardens from the main house.
Bobby was laying nude on a chaise lounge. Jeffrey was applying suntan lotion all over Bobby's body. I mean all over, every nook and cranny. I liked what I saw. But I must admit that I was a bit jealous of my son. I wanted Jeffrey for myself. It was obvious from their mutual physical involvement that they had been getting it on with each other. Oh, well, being wealthy can't buy me everything. My own son out bid me. I can't blame Jeffrey. If I were in his shoes, if he had some on, I'd chosen Bobby over me any day.
"Hello, guys. May I join you?"
"Hi, Dad. Jeffrey and I had some great fun today. I missed you. How was the golf game?"
Jeffrey turned seventeen shades of red and probably wished he were wearing a Tux instead of being naked. The poor kid looked positively terrified that I found him fondling my sixteen-year-old son. I'm sure he must have thought, "There went my career with the Perkins Foundation and this great lifestyle of the rich and famous."
I rubbed the back of Jeffrey's neck in a soothing way and patted him gently on the back to give him some reassurance. I felt his muscles were very tense. He was in need of one of my famous massages.
"Relax, Jeffrey. I'm happy you and Bobby are becoming close friends. I'd like to use the pool with you guys. But will you please turn down that music. Long Island residents are complaining about the noise in the Hudson Valley."
"Dad, put in your ear plugs. If I can't go to a 1,300 acre spread and have loud music, where can I go?"
"Jeffrey, spank that boy's butt for talking back to his Dad."
Jeffrey looked at me stunned and confused. He turned to look at Bobby. He didn't know what to do.
Bobby repositioned himself on the chaise lounge by moving himself to the edge and placing one leg kneeling on the ground and with the other on the lounge. His butt stuck out very nicely and invitingly.
"Go ahead, Jeffrey. Dad said to punish me with a spanking. Let's see if you can make me break."
Jeffrey looked back at me for permission. I nodded yes.
Jeffrey started slowly and softly. Then he built up the rhythm and the hardness of each spank. Bobby moved about on the lounge in rhythm to the spanks and pushed his ass out for more. He yelped out signs of false pain and agony to Jeffrey's delight. The spankee and the spanker loved the action. I enjoyed it, too.
Bobby's suntan butt was turning red from nearly 30 spanks. His body suddenly stiffened somewhat, then relaxed, and he gave a sigh. That's it. He creamed the lounge. Jeffrey knew what happened and stopped the spanking.
"Let's go for a swim," Bobby yelled.
The boy jumped up and dived into the pool. That's his effort to clean himself following a pool side spanking. Jeffrey joined him, and the two played like 10-year-old kids. I may have lost Jeffrey as a possible _s_e_x_ual partner. But I gained back my son enjoying his life to the fullest. That meant the most to me, seeing Bobby happy.
All of my guests at White Hall dressed casually despite the extremely formal surroundings. I insisted on that, even at dinner. I had spent too many years of my youth at this place dressing in a suit and tie for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Dinner time was always very formal. The dining room was setup as though a State Dinner with the President was taking place. The servers stood behind us ready to fill our glasses of water or whatever after each sip. They immediately took away our plates when we were finished. If we wanted seconds, they gave us a new plate. It was nauseating.
My father was called "Father," never "Daddy," or "Dad." Mother was always referred to formally. I was "David," never "Dave" or "Son." My parents never dressed "down," except in blazers or some ridiculous looking golf outfit. I think they pretended to be nineteenth century royalty or some such _s_h_i_t_.
My family didn't arrive in this country on the Mayflower or some other historic way. There are books written about them. I don't believe any of it. I think they all came from outer space. They were probably a bunch of drunkards and thieves forced out of England. While in this country eons ago, they bought or probably stole or won at some drunken poker party land all over Manhattan. The books speak more kindly about them than I do.
Their accumulation of land, some of the priciest Manhattan real estate and elsewhere around the country, made them very rich at the expense of others. They got hooked up with all the historic moguls of oil and steel and whatever people of the nineteenth century. They rode others' coattails to fabulous wealth, and they never lost it. It grew big time.
They breed some weird characters who were alcoholics, suicidal and out and out crazies. So many died prematurely, that the family was never very large. I guess that was good for me, because there is no one to share the wealth with, except for some distant cousins who were given trust funds.
My father, mother and sister died in a horrible plane accident while I was attending Harvard. They were returning from a vacation at Hilton Head, and the plane went down in bad weather. I was supposed to be on that plane. But I could not stand another vacation with my parents at Hilton Head.
Despite my distaste for their lifestyle and formality, I was devastated by their deaths. I had always wanted a normal son and dad relationship. I hated the boarding schools. But I loved them in my own way. I deeply loved my sister. We were very close.
The will was read and everything in the estate went to me. I was surprised, because my father threatened so many times to disown me. Maybe he loved me after all, but he didn't know how to show it.
Bobby, my adopted son, is my sole heir. I love that boy so much that I would lay down my own life for him in a moment. I want him to have the dad and son relationship that I never had.
Dinner tonight was attended by Frank, Jeffrey, Bobby and me. His other therapist had left for New York City. There were no servers standing behind us to fill our glasses or put food on our plates. A cook didn't fix the meal, Frank and Bobby did. Bobby likes to take a hand in the cooking so we all eat healthy _s_h_i_t_. They laid it on the table. Bobby kept explaining the nutrition facts of this and that, fat content and calories. I let him go so far with his lectures, then I kick his leg under the table. He shuts up but gives me a very glaring look. We ate like a normal family. The formal surroundings were light years from a modest four bedroom house in the suburbs. We didn't mind, we all ignored it. It was all junk that didn't fit in with the closeness that we felt for one another. Jeffrey was the exception. He was still taken in by all this mansion _s_h_i_t_. Bobby would bring him down to earth.
That night Bobby and Jeffrey planned to sleep together. Jeffrey was still afraid to get it on with Bobby without my permission, and he was too embarrassed to ask me. Good blunt Bobby blurted out at dinner that the two planned to sleep together and was it OK? Frank and I laughed along with Bobby. Jeffrey's face turned another seventeen shades of red. I would have to do something about Jeffrey's constant embarrassment. I didn't want the kid to have a coronary every time he's around me when Bobby was seeking _s_e_x_.
Some of the things at White Hall are very nice. The bedroom suites were well designed with ornate, handcrafted wallpaper in autumnal hues. You had a sitting room, study room and the bedroom. You got three rooms with your own bath. I liked that as a child. It's hard to give that up and go back to a boarding school dormitory or, at best, a small cramped room you share with another.
Frank and I passed Bobby's suite on our way to my room. We heard spanking sounds and moans. We laughed thinking that Bobby was receiving another good one.
I took one of the smaller bedroom suites like Bobby's. My parent's six room suite is something I didn't want to stay in. They had separate bedrooms, but all their rooms connected to one another. What a way to have a relationship as husband and wife.
Frank and I hadn't slept together in a long time. We renewed that part of our deep friendship and relationship with great joy. For once, in many years, White Hall was a happy place that night.
At the far end of the pool there are three bathhouses. Separating the pool and the bathhouses are six arches supported by Corinthian columns about 10 feet apart. I was wondering how long it would take for Bobby to create a scene with those columns. He could be tied between two columns or hung by his wrists from one column. The boy would be whipped, of course. This Romanesque setting would require him being a slave boy led away for punishment at the hands of his Master.
White Hall is so big that a small group of people could live there for days and literally not see one another unless they wanted to or accidentally ran into each other. I took copies of the New York Times and Wall Street Journal and a tray of juice, coffee and a Danish to the pool for some morning sun and reading before a round of golf.
When I entered the pool area, there was Bobby tied between two columns, wrists and legs. He was naked and Jeffrey was whipping the _s_h_i_t_ out of him. Bobby was yelling out cries of pain and twisting and turning his body. Jeffrey seemed to be having a ball with his young slave boy. Their erections showed they were highly stimulated and not too far away from engaging themselves with one another.
I didn't want to interfere. Jeffrey might have a heart attack. And that wouldn't do much for his _s_e_x_ual stimulation at this moment of play. I sat at the other end of the pool spreading out the newspaper on a table underneath an umbrella. I could watch them. I have run into so many of Bobby's _s_e_x_ual plays that sometimes I like it better than watching him play soccer, sometimes.
It seemed like another 20 minutes went by of whipping, fondling and torturing Bobby before he was released. The Master whipped his slave boy crawling across the pool deck to a grassy area of the gardens. Slave boy bent over a bench while the Master inserted himself into the slave's ass and had glorious _s_e_x_. The Master then sucked off slave boy.
I was pleased that they were wearing condoms. We had previously had a long talk about that much to Jeffrey's embarrassment. Bobby had heard my lecture many times and just nodded to amuse me. Jeffrey said he always uses protection. But talking to me about it was like talking to his mother and grandmother about gay _s_e_x_. He couldn't handle it too well.
The boys came out of the garden naked and carrying their toys. They had their arms around each other with very satisfied looks on their faces. That is, until Jeffrey saw me and nearly collapsed. Bobby came running over to me happy as a kid at Christmas. Jeffrey walked slowly with a look of total embarrassment. How in the hell do I get Jeffrey to calm down and that everything is OK?
Bobby gave me a good morning hug and then jumped into the pool to clean himself. Jeffrey did the same, but probably hoping he would drown so not to face me another time.
I took the rich man's lazy way out by phoning the cook to prepare breakfast for us at pool side. She knew Bobby's health food _s_h_i_t_ breakfast down pat. In 30 minutes breakfast was served, and Frank joined us. We all sat around naked enjoying the food and company.
Frank wanted to go horse back riding after breakfast. Bobby wanted to join him. Jeffrey had an appointment at Columbia University around noon. I arranged a helicopter to take him. He would be back by 3:00. I planned a day of golf at Dinsmore Golf Course not too far from White Hall on Old Post Road in the hamlet of Staatsburg. The course is the oldest private course in America.
Bobby suggested that he and Frank go horse back riding in the nude with no saddles on the horses. Frank laughed but was game. Too bad I couldn't go golfing in the nude at Dinsmore. I did that once at a Florida nudist resort, and it was fun. Jeffrey seemed a little depressed that he would be missing out on some fun. We reassured him that he'd have many more chances. Just do his business at Columbia and get back here for all the fun he wants.
My main caretaker of many years is Jerome. He's been working and living at White Hall for 35 years and is about to retire. His wife died a few years ago. Jerome wants to retire in Texas where his children and grandchildren live. I've arranged a very, very comfortable retirement income for him. Jerome was a part of my childhood. I talked to him like a father. He's a very important part of my life. I'll miss him.
He has an old dog named Alphy, a Golden Retriever. When I was a child, Jerome had a Golden Retriever named Alphy. As each died of old age, he'd get another one and name it Alphy. His dog and I were always best buddies. Now Bobby has taken to Alphy. The two are nearly one at White Hall. If Bobby doesn't have someone sleeping with him at night, Alphy is always there in his bed. Even if someone is sleeping with Bobby, that dog is in the room. They love one another. The one thing the dog doesn't like is someone whipping Bobby. To avoid Bobby's partner from being mauled to death, the dog is sent to another room during play time.
Frank, Bobby and Alphy strolled down to the stables. Steve had on running shorts; Bobby wore his Speedo bikini. They did this so they wouldn't freak out Corey and Sarah who maintain the stables and the six horses. Bobby had a camera; Frank had the camcorder.
Corey knew they were coming and had two of his best Appaloosa stallions ready. The stable crews try to anticipate the needs of family and guests staying at White Hall. They pack a light lunch, a canteen of juice, a map of White Hall and the trails and a blanket. There is also a sheet of dangerous areas and what to do in an emergency and a pager-like device that rings an alarm at the stable. Corey can find people by beaming in on the signal with his homing device. Sarah recommends certain "Kodak Moment" picture taking shots and great places to have a picnic.
If you really wanted to enjoy all of the sights of White Hall and the beauty it has to offer, it would take two or three days (eight hours a day) of slow riding and walking. The estate is listed as one of the most beautiful in America: the streams, flowers, trees (45 different species), the Hudson River and rolling hills are a magnificent sight.
Once out of sight of the stable, Frank and Bobby stripped naked and put what little they were wearing into the pouch Corey gave them. Bobby loved the adventure. What he didn't realize was the pain his young body would feel from riding a horse for a length of time. Frank anticipated this of inexperienced riders; so he suggested they walk the horses, then ride, then walk. Alphy was almost like a guide taking them along various trails.
The two stopped for lunch on a bluff overlooking the Hudson and the valley. Bobby talked about what a great place to have a little _s_e_x_ scene. Frank listened to Bobby's fantasies but said he'd have no part in playing one out with Bobby. The boy was disappointed. Frank explained that he was Bobby's friend, therapist and confident. A _s_e_x_ scene between the two would adversely affect that relationship. Bobby reluctantly agreed. But, he gave it his best shot.
They turned in their horses about 4:00 and strolled to the South Portico of the mansion and main terrace beneath it, which looks out over the gardens and the Hudson in the distance. I was sitting there reading a book.
"Dad, we had a great time. You should try it with me."
"Son, I've been over every square inch of this place a thousand times. It is very beautiful. I'll make a trip with you to show my hideouts, where I played cowboys and Indians, war games, built forts and other things my parents never found out about. If my parents knew some of the things I did here, I would have been crucified before I was 10. Jerome always protected me. Thank God I had him as a protector."
"I didn't tell you this, but the room you're staying in is kind of special to me. I was born in that room. They didn't have time to rush my mother to the hospital. The doctor delivered me in that bed. That also was my room as a baby, child and a man when we lived here. I have a lot of memories of that room; that's why I gave it to you."
"Wow, Dad, I should have more respect for the room and the bed. I wouldn't have had _s_e_x_ in it if I had known."
Frank and I laughed. The boy looked perplexed.
"Bobby, that bed has been creamed and _s_e_x_ed out more times than a mattress in a whorehouse."