The Elliot Silvestri Erotic Reader Volume 6

by Elliot Silvestri

  Hammond shrugged. “Sure. I agree with all of that. But someone hired killers through a group claiming to be the Shadow Society—perhaps they are, but more likely they’re just appropriating the name—and all the targets were of royal blood.”

  A sigh escaped Gillard’s lips. “I’ve got a dozen murders of aristos, Royce. If there was an assassin’s guild big enough to do all that, then we’ve got bigger problems than a royal dynasty being threatened.”

  Scratching at the scar just above his right eyebrow, Hammond said, “I think only a few of the killers were professionals. Most were either men who lived on the outskirts of society and desperate criminals looking to make a little silver. A few though, a few, were of the sort the Shadow Society, at least the old Society, would have. Look at Prince Bradford. He was poisoned by a whore. That’s not the work of a soldier looking for drinking money. That’s…that’s going back nearly a century to times of utter chaos.”

  Pulling a bottle of spirits from the bottom drawer of his desk, Gillard poured them each a shot in clay cups and threw his back. The liquid burned as it went down and helped him focus. “How do you know all this?”

  Hammond followed suite with his shot, wincing at the strong taste. “I’ve got a prisoner in the tower. I think he just needs a bit of persuasion to tell all…”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The last time Roderick had seen Cousin Oliver was at the annual day of majority when Oliver had legally become a man. It wasn’t that many years ago, but much had happened since then. Oliver was only a few years younger, but he was incredibly handsome and as a mere cousin to the ruling family, he could take pleasure in his family’s small estate without having to worry about the duties to country.

  Of course that was when he was eighteenth in line for the throne. Now he was third in line, after Roderick’s child was born.

  He strode into the royal court with a small retinue of followers. Oliver wasn’t yet married, so his appearance at the court was a new opportunity for young aristo ladies to make a royal—or near royal—match.

  “The Earl of Dunwood, Oliver of the House Bickford,” the herald announced upon Oliver’s entrance.

  After the formal bowing and scraping, Roderick spoke to his cousin. Oliver was much as he remembered the man, though just a touch older and a bit more mature. “Please forgive my grandfather for not formally greeting you,” Roderick said as he stood next to the throne. He couldn’t compel himself to sit on the seat just yet. “He is not in the best of health and in these trying times…” He let the thought die out.

  Oliver smoothly stepped into the conversation. “No apologies needed, cousin. I understand completely.”

  Roderick smiled without mirth. “Thank you. I do hope to spend some time alone with you after the day’s proceedings.”

  Oliver bowed again, knowing he had been received and dismissed. “Of course.”

  This was the part of the royal responsibilities that his father had sheltered him from, dealing with the members of the court. There were always problems to solve and disputes to mediate. Roderick hated it. Oliver faded into the background, an amused smile on his lips. Roderick once again wished he was just a prince and not the crown prince.

  Because he was exhausted from the petty squabbles of the court, it was no surprise that Roderick didn’t hear the door open. Once Oliver spoke, however, Roderick was immediately awake.

  “If I was an assassin, you’d be dead,” his cousin said from the end of the bed where he stood.

  Roderick sat bolt upright in his bed. He had barely bothered to undress and—worse—he hadn’t brought either Pauline or his wife into the bed to keep him company. There wasn’t even a weapon at hand to defend himself, not that he needed protection from his childhood companion. “Most likely,” he conceded, “but only a master assassin would have gained access to the secret passages of the palace and I would have died in my sleep. There are worse ways to go.” He glanced over at the open door. A faint breeze came from the passage. The door was normally well-hidden only a few knew the way into his apartments.

  “These passages aren’t so secret,” said Oliver as he rested a thigh on the edge of the bed, casually half-seating himself. “You and I knew about them when we were children. How many other people know? A handful? A dozen? Dozen? Maybe a few hundred?” He sighed. “Anyway, they’re better used for conducting clandestine trysts with lovers than assassins stalking their prey.” He paused and smiled. “Speaking of which…would you like to have a clandestine tryst with a lover?”

  Roderick flopped back on the bed. “I have a pregnant mistress and a barren wife. I don’t need a lover, especially not my cousin.”

  The prince’s pronouncement made Oliver chuckle. “While I’m certainly open to almost anything, I’m not offering myself. I have a young lady in my entourage who would like to meet your acquaintance.”

  The prince said nothing, but just sighed deeply.

  “Or a young man if you wish,” Oliver added with amusement.

  “You came to my bedroom to offer me a whore?” Roderick asked.

  “First…no. Second…yes. Not a whore. I only keep the finest of lovers in my traveling circus. And I did come to make an offer to get you laid. You look like you need it.”

  “I’m exhausted.”

  “They’ll do all the work.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “And I’m surprised you are still in these rooms. You’ve had these since you were a boy. Why not move to better accommodations?”

  “Better accommodations would be my dead father’s rooms.”

  “Ah. I see. Well, it is late and since you’re not interested, I’ll return to my whores and coquettes and lose myself in their charms.”

  Roderick sat back up. “I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. Just exhausted.”

  He heaved himself out of the bed, looked at his jacket and rejected the idea of it. Pulling on his boots, he followed Oliver down the hidden passageway.

  “I should really tell my guards where I am,” he commented.

  Oliver was carrying a single shielded candle, but they hardly needed it. They were both familiar with the way. Oliver was proud of himself having remembered all the turns after many years of being away from the palace.

  “No need. You’re safe with me.”

  “I’m sure that’s what every dead royal thought before they wound up dead.”

  Oliver turned around and looked at his cousin. “Are you accusing me of murder?”

  Roderick reflected on what he had said and shook his head. “No. Sorry. Again, I’m exhausted. But I’m sure that all of our relatives that have recently been killed thought they were safe up until the last moment,”

  “True. That’s what assassins are supposed to be good at.”

  They arrived at the guest room where Oliver was lodged. The door had been concealed at the back of a huge dressing closet. Roderick wasn’t surprised his cousin remembered that secret. When they emerged there was a drinking party in full swing. It seemed all of the dozen or so members of Oliver’s retinue were there. They all smiled and bowed to the prince once they realized he was in their presence. To their credit, none of them were surprised at his sudden appearance.

  A few informal introductions were made and then Oliver asked, “Now then, dear cousin, it’s been a few years, and I make no judgment, but would you prefer a girl or a boy for tonight.”

  “Girl,” he said firmly.

  “Then let me introduce you to the fetching Rachelle.” Oliver pulled a pretty girl with bright red hair bound up on the top of her head. Freckles were liberally painted across her face. Her bare shoulders were pale, broken only by the freckles, and the loose dress she wore promised breasts that were smaller than Roderick’s. “She looks innocent, but I can assure you she is not,” said Oliver as he kissed the girl’s cheek and she gasped with false protest at his assessment of her sexual behavior.

  “My prince,” she said politely and then curtseyed formally. Roderick smiled, but with
out joy, and took her hand to kiss it.

  “And what family house are you from, my dear?” Roderick asked, uncertain as to the protocols in this situation.

  His question made her, and those around her, laugh. Oliver answered for Rachelle. “She’s not an aristo, cousin. She’s a pretty little maid I found in the mansion with a talent for fucking.”

  “Truly?” he asked, looking directly at Rachelle and all but his ignoring Oliver.

  “There’s only one way for you to find out for sure, my prince,” she replied as she ran her finger along the edge of her neckline. “But someone will have to help me out of this dress. I’m not very good at wearing aristo clothing, and I can only undress others, not myself.”

  The crowd laughed again and began moving away. Roderick noticed that most of the retinue paired off, though there were two sets of trios, and clothing began to be removed. But he didn’t care about that. He could see strangers fuck any time he wanted. He was the crown prince, after all and such a show was available to anyone with the right amount of coin at most of the houses in the red light district.

  With a broad smile on her face, Rachelle boldly took the prince’s hand and pulled him toward the bed. While the prince wasn’t exactly skilled at undressing women, he had done it more than once or twice and with Rachelle’s able assistance he was able to get her out of the restrictive dress with relative ease.

  The young woman was completely at ease in her near-nudity in front of the prince and everyone else in Oliver’s large guest room. She wore the stylish white stockings that came up to her mid-thighs, held in place with a blue ribbon around each perfectly tapered limb. Under her dress she had worn a light chemise to protect the fabric. Roderick could see the bright pink of her tiny nipples through it along with the slightly darker shadow of the scarlet triangle between her legs. He had been so eager to see her naked that he had ripped the chemise from her body, a move that delighted the girl right before he pushed her onto the bed.

  Her hand went between his legs to cup his manhood. She was delighted to find him firmly erect. “May I, my prince?” she asked and without getting his approval loosened the fasteners and started fishing out his cock.

  “I’d prefer to undress,” he said as her hand went up and down his shaft. “I’m not some workman looking for a knee-knocker behind the pub.”

  “It would be my pleasure to undress you, my prince,” she said politely. Again, without asking permission, she set to do exactly that. Her hands worked quickly and efficiently, stripping off first Roderick’s shirt and then his boots, which was a moment’s struggle, and then his already opened pants, leaving him as naked as the day he was born. He was on his back for most of the time while she worked, which allowed him to admire her slim body. It was more boyish than he preferred in women; slim hips, small breasts, a flat belly and thin limbs, and her fine features, while well-set, had a certain androgynous quality that made her all the more alluring.

  When Roderick was finally naked enough for her liking, she hunched down between his legs and licked the length of his still-erect cock from balls to glans and engulfed the rigid member between her pink lips. He allowed her to suck him a moment, and then pushed her away from his cock. “I prefer cunt to mouth,” he told her, pulling her bodily to him. She complied with a giggle and straddled his body. Together they found the entrance to her cunt and she lowered herself down on him, their bodies slowly joining together.

  He was pleased with how easily she lubricated. Maybe she was more of a hussy than would be expected of a noble-born woman, but there was adventure and pleasure in that. She wasn’t just some hanger-on to Oliver, she was there for a purpose and whatever Oliver had done to keep her in his household was more than worth it, Roderick thought as the young girl started rocking and grinding her hips on him.

  She knew exactly what she was doing. It made Roderick wonder about her. “You do that very well,” he complimented her as she rode him. “Have you had a lot of practice?”

  The smile she gave him was sunny and bright. “Much. Too many partners to count.”

  He had doubts about her counting abilities, but that didn’t bother him at the moment. He was the crown prince and he deserved to take a little pleasure in the cunt of a willing woman…and if she provided him with another bastard…maybe that was even better.

  Silence fell between them as she rode him with pleasure on her face. Roderick couldn’t tell if she liked it that much or if she was that good of an actress. It didn’t matter to him either way. It had been years since he had last had sex in front of an audience. It wasn’t much of an audience, but there were more than a few people in the room and while they weren’t paying all that much attention to the prince and his consort of the moment, it was thrilling to be able to show off his cock-slinging skills. He wondered if they cared…and then realized he didn’t care what they thought of him. It wasn’t exactly the small orgies that took place at the summer festivals when he was still in his youth, but it was close enough for him.

  Roderick grabbed Rachelle’s hips between his hands and held her in place while he thrusted up into her cunt. She seemed delighted at the sudden change of pace, but her face soured when he started cumming. His grunts were low and dignified, but he caught the shadow of displeasure on her visage even in his moment of little death.

  Her cunt was too warm and inviting to waste his seed and he didn’t want to bother with the unpleasantness of having his cum splattered all over his chest and belly. It was her duty as a good citizen to accept the prince’s gift.

  “What bothers you, girl?” he asked when his load was firmly ensconced in the depths of her cunt.

  “Nothing, my prince,” she lied easily. Roderick knew when he was being lied to, even by as skilled a liar as Rachelle.

  “Did you not enjoy our little romp?”

  “I…I didn’t get off, my lord,” she admitted. It was partly true, Roderick could tell that. She was a very good liar, another attribute that made her attractive to his eyes. “But that is not fault of yours.”

  “I like it when my citizens are happy,” he said smoothly and quickly flipped their positions, putting her on her back. With his quick movements they decoupled, but his hand quickly went to her hot, wet cunt where his cum started to dribble out of her already.

  “That’s not necessary, my lor—” her admonition was cut short as her eyes rolled up into her head and she gasped. His nimble fingers found her already swollen clit and quickly pushed her to the edge of climax.

  “For a trollop you are awfully easy to manipulate,” he whispered in her ear. She wasn’t able to respond. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. “Though I suppose it is better for a trollop to enjoy her work rather than have it be a terrible burden.” He pinched her little clit between his fingers firmly enough to make her legs scissor together in surprise but not so strongly enough to make her protest in pain.

  “You’re right there,” he admired in her. “So beautiful. Stretch out the moment, savor it.”

  Rachelle nodded and gasped, trying to do as he asked.

  “Do you enjoy it? Being a whore? Fucking for coins? Or is this the best part? When a man has you in his power and you are living for pleasure?”

  She couldn’t answer. He didn’t expect one.

  It was the greatest relief of her life when she was finally able to cum and she didn’t have to answer.

  The prince lay in the bed next to her, savoring the moment and relaxing even as the others in the room continued on in their own couplings of raw sex.

  It wasn’t too many minutes later when Oliver came wandering by. Roderick’s cousin was naked but for his open shirt. His cock hung wetly between his legs. It was impossible to tell if the earl had fucked one willing girl or a dozen, or if he had taken other pleasures with women and men in equal portions. Roderick tried not to be jealous of his cousin’s cock, but even when it was soft and precious it was more impressive than he always remembered.

  “Did you enjoy yourself, cousin?” Oli
ver asked. A naked doxy was at his side. The woman had seen better days, but Roderick knew his cousin didn’t fuck women on appearance alone. Either her cunt or her mouth was worth her weight in gold, or something close to it.

  “Immensely.”

  “Good. Keep her as long as you like.”

  Roderick grunted and closed his eyes. Rachelle’s body was warm and close to his. He wondered if the guards truly cared where he was. “I’m sure I’ll get objections from my wife. And from my mistress.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Vasten was nervous. Being held in the tower wasn’t so bad. The accommodations were nicer than he ever would have guessed and that’s what made him nervous. He was under arrest for suspicions of killing an aristo—which he had—which meant he should be under a death warrant, but he was being given accommodations better than most people ever had in their lives. It wasn’t that of an aristo manse, but it was more than good enough.

  The heavy wooden door banged open and two guards grabbed him and dragged him out. He didn’t resist. There was no point to it. They marched him down the hall, and then some stairs, and eventually to a chamber that was much more suited to traditional torture, at least to Vasten’s eyes. Lt. Hammond and the captain of the guard were waiting for him. That made Vasten even more nervous, but he remembered his oath and reminded himself not to give away anything. He was useless to them dead and the society would compensate him and his family for any injuries he sustained during torture.

  “Well?” he asked them after they had stared at one another for a minute, the pair of men strangely silent.

  Hammond spoke. “I’ll give you this one opportunity to confess everything.”

  Vasten snorted. “I think not. I can withstand any torture you can devise.” He smiled smugly at them.

  “No doubt,” Hammond agreed. He had heard more than enough tales of how the members of the Shadow Society were trained and initiated. Nodding to the two guards, the armored men left the room. “How well are you prepared to withstand what I can inflict on you?”