The Elliot Silvestri Erotic Reader Volume 6

by Elliot Silvestri

  Feeling a tug on his cock, Roderick looked down to see a woman pulling on his manhood. It took him only a second to recognize Emilia, the daughter of some minor noble. “Do you mind, sir?” she giggled, before opening her mouth and taking Roderick’s length into her mouth.

  He felt like he didn’t have a choice. That was fine. Emilia was rather pretty, though the mask hide most of her features. It was nice seeing his cock between her painted red lips and as she sucked on him, she mauled her over-large breast with one hand.

  “My lord, a moment of your time?”

  Roderick turned to see a man standing next to him. The man wore a mask like everyone else, but had on his shirt, though it was open. His cock dangled out of his trousers; it hung limply as if everything going on around him affected him not at all.

  “What can I do for you?” Roderick said. Maybe the man was a servant. He didn’t recognize the man’s body, half-hidden face, or limp cock.

  “This is a matter of some important business,” said the man.

  “Business? You’re bringing that up during a party?” Roderick asked, feigning offense. He looked down at Emilia who was now eagerly fellating him. It was an unfortunate side effect of being the crown prince that he couldn’t tell if she was doing it because she wanted to or because it would curry some favor from him. Automatically he had assumed she knew exactly who he was. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone else knew.

  “Now is the most advantageous time, my lord.” The man was keeping up the fiction that he didn’t know exactly who Roderick was. After taking a moment to admire how Emilia’s lips wrapped prettily around his cock, Roderick glanced quickly around the room. Half of those in attendance at the party were too engaged in their sex act of choice to take notice of anything. The other half weren’t paying any attention to Roderick at all. Or at least they were doing a good job of pretending not to pay attention to Roderick.

  “I’ve got my cock in this pretty young thing’s mouth,” said Roderick. “I think you can wait a few minutes.” While steadying his cock with her right hand, Emilia carefully cupped his balls with her left and artfully snaked a finger along his taint. There was no reason to protest; Roderick wanted to see what she intended.

  The stranger didn’t take Roderick’s not very subtle brush off. “There is the matter of payment for services rendered,” he said softly while leaning in to Roderick’s ear. The crown prince doubted anyone could hear their conversation—except perhaps for Emilia.

  Roderick put a hand on the man’s bare chest and pushed him back. Only then did he realize that he knew everyone in the room—by face if not by name—except for this stranger who had accosted him. “Make an appointment with my office and we’ll discuss it later,” he said emphatically.

  The stranger frowned behind his mask while Emilia redoubled her efforts on Roderick’s cock. The crown prince quickly decided she was in it for the fun of it because if he deposited his seed in her throat there would be no chance of pregnancy and no long-term advantage to her. “The princess—your mother—has run up a substantial debt and payment is due. See to it that her accounts are balanced or the society will ensure there will be…accidents.” The last word was hissed by the stranger while Emilia finally wormed her finger up between Roderick’s buttocks to tease at his anus. The intrusion was enough to push him unexpectedly over the edge and he came in her mouth.

  Emilia enthusiastically swallowed all of his ejaculation—clearly the young lady had practiced this skill before trying it on him—and that moment gave the stranger his opportunity to depart. Although he appreciated her efforts, Roderick found himself annoyed by Lady Emilia’s need to suck the royal cock at that particular moment. He scanned the room but the stranger was gone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “It’s hardly enough proof to put your mother’s head on the executioner’s block,” said Oliver in a bored tone. He was lounging on the comfortable chair opposite the desk the filled the small office of the crown prince. This was the part of being royalty that Roderick hated: the actual work. He had in front of him a sheaf of papers that needed to be reviewed and either approved and signed, or rejected and sent back to the palace staff.

  “It’s more than damning enough for me,” said Roderick, glancing up at his cousin. “Now I have to find a way to deal with it.”

  “Do you really think your mother wants you dead?” Oliver asked, seeming to take an interest in the conversation.

  “I think she wants someone from her side of the family to take the throne. That means if I wind up dead, you’ll be sitting here, going through…monthly kitchen expenses…instead of getting your dick sucked by whatever little sweetheart is trying to impress your family’s bank accounts.”

  Oliver burst out laughing. “You make it sound so sordid.”

  “It is,” Roderick said drily.

  Before Oliver could reply, there was a knock at the door. As much as Roderick hated doing the petty work of the crown prince, he hated being interrupted even more. “Enter!”

  A servant rushed in. “My prince, the uh…the royal courtesan Pauline Petnard is in labor!”

  Roderick stared at the man blankly, not comprehending what was going on. It was Oliver who jumped to his feet and ran around the desk to haul Roderick to his feet and clapped him on the shoulders. “Congratulations, cousin! Here’s to the first royal bastard!” He pulled a silver flask from his pocket, uncorked it, and took a swig before passing it to Roderick, who automatically took a sip. His face soured at the strong burn.

  “What is that?” he gasped.

  “Distilled spirits,” Oliver said airily, taking back the flask and sipping again. “An old family recipe. How should we celebrate the birth of the child?”

  “Miss Petnard is only in labor,” the servant hastened to say. “There is no child yet.”

  “No reason not to celebrate,” said Oliver. Roderick said nothing. This was the moment he had been waiting for—dreading and anticipating simultaneously—for the past months. “Drink or women?” asked Oliver.

  Roderick said nothing.

  “Both!” agreed Oliver with a laugh. “Good choice.”

  “I should go to her,” said Roderick, remembering his place in the world.

  “Absolutely not,” said Oliver. “You don’t want to piss off your wife, do you?”

  “Shit. I should go to my wife,” he corrected himself.

  “A terrible idea,” Oliver called to him even as Roderick ran out of the room. He shrugged and finished the last of the flask. “She’s going to hate you one way or another.”

  “You play a dangerous game,” Royce said to Gillard.

  “You’re the only one who can do this correctly,” Gillard patiently said to his best friend. He was breathing slowly and steadily, focusing on everything but what Royce was doing.

  Royce slowly shook his head and continued what he was doing. “I would think that your lover would appreciate this part of you.” He tightened the cord that was wrapped around and around Gillard’s cock. The organ’s blood supply was restricted to the point where his cock had turned royal purple.

  Gillard slowly shook his head. “No. She prefers to inflict immediate pain and get immediate gratification from it. Slow, intense torture doesn’t suit her.”

  Royce frowned in response. “I would think by now you could find someone who would be happy to do this for you. You are the captain of the guard, after all.”

  They were in the immaculately clean interrogation room that Gillard preferred to use for both business and pleasure. He was on the inclined bed, tightly gripping the edges of the frame to keep his hands away from his cock while Royce pushed him to his limits. His shirt was off and his pants were opened to allow his cock out. There were no bindings holding him in place. This was a pleasure and a torture he forced upon himself because it was necessary to push himself to his absolute limits.

  “No,” he grunted as Royce tightened the cord again. “It’s because I’m captain of the guard that I can’t let anyone e
lse know about…this.”

  “This,” snorted Royce. “This is self-torture—well, almost self-torture—of the highest order. This is what pretty young maids are hired for. Or young serving boys. I can’t remember which you prefer.” They locked eyes a minute and neither spoke of how, years before, when they were both young soldiers in the king’s service, what they would do to and for each other. Royce had left those practices behind. Gillard had not.”

  “This is proving to myself I can endure any torture and will endure any torture in the name of the king if it ever proves necessary.”

  Disturbed by the deep purple tone Gillard’s cock had taken, Royce carefully touched the swollen head. “Cold,” he said. “You’re done.” He started loosening the cord.

  “No!” complained Gillard, but it was already too late. “I can endure!” After he spoke those words the blood started rushing to where it had been restricted and the intense tingling was more painful that just having the cord firmly in place. He collapsed off the inclined bed and fell to his knees. His cock rose of its own accord in response to the pain. Royce turned away as Gillard anxiously pumped his cock with his fist, making it swell even further, until he finally ejaculated onto the floor, giving himself some real relief from his torture.

  “I could find you a decent whore who’d know how to keep her mouth shut,” Royce offered.

  “No,” Gillard barked at his friend and confidant as he rose from his knees while stuffing his manhood back into his pants. “I have to go see Princess Annedulisia now.” He stumbled toward the door.

  “I hope she doesn’t want to play with your broken cock,” Royce said as his friend left. If Gillard heard he didn’t react to Royce’s taunt.

  Roderick swept by the guards and the two maids waiting patiently outside Margareta’s rooms. One attempted to stop him with a startled, “My lord!” but he ignored her and pushed open the door to Margareta’s private bedroom. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find his wife’s face buried nose-deep in the cunt of her bodyguard.

  Margareta was kneeling on the floor with Aphra against the wall while she skirts raised her skirts to her waist, exposing her cunt. Roderick couldn’t help but admire the bodyguard’s muscular legs barely concealed under her stockings. Neither woman reacted at first when Roderick walked in. He assumed that was because they were too enthralled with each other to hear him. He wondered if he should be more upset that his wife was servicing the other woman in a subservient role or if the mere fact that his wife was carrying on a sexual relationship with another woman without him being present was reason enough for anger.

  Aphra’s hands were balled tightly, wrinkling her skirts. Her eyes were tightly closed; she was obviously on the verge. Roderick thought it was the perfect time to interrupt. “She’s terrible at cocksucking, but apparently her tongue has talent with cunt then?” he asked loudly to rouse both women from passion’s embrace.

  Margareta stumbled back from her lover, falling flat on her bottom, while she wiped away Aphra’s juices from her face with the back of her hand. The crimson shade to her face laid bare her guilt or her shame, or perhaps both. “My lord,” she blurted out. “I’m so sorry.” She felt foolish and stupid on the floor and didn’t know what else to do.

  With her back against the wall, Aphra had enough wits about her to drop her skirts and cover her shame. Both women were fully dressed and it appeared to Roderick’s eyes that they had been planning on leaving the palace grounds. The cotton undergarment that the bodyguard was supposed to be wearing under her dress was crumpled on the floor next to Margareta. Roderick could only imagine what had transpired to inspire his wife to perform cunnilingus on her bodyguard; luckily he had a vivid imagination and a dozen possible scenarios popped into his head.

  “She has talent, my prince,” the bodyguard said with a curtsy. She was a large, well-muscled woman and under the circumstances it was a strange gesture to make.

  “What?” asked Roderick.

  Margareta struggled to her feet. “I apologize, my husband,” she rushed out. “I have no words to explain what I was doing.”

  Roderick regarded her coldly for a second, but he couldn’t deny the stirring he was feeling in his cock. His wife with another woman was not necessarily a terrible scene to behold. He didn’t look at his wife and instead addressed Aphra. “What did you say?” She wasn’t an ugly woman, but her size and stature made it easy to overlook her striking face.

  “She has talent,” Aphra repeated. “I was trying not to peak, but she had me almost there…but then you walked in.” She pretended to be ashamed

  Try as he might Roderick couldn’t help but let a smile crawl across his face. After having been in bed with both women he could understand his wife’s being drawn to the bodyguard. Maybe she was—maybe they both were—those women who preferred cunt to cock. He couldn’t blame them; he preferred cunt to cock.

  “Then why did you stop?” he asked her.

  “You walked in, my prince,” she said easily. As a bodyguard she wasn’t easily cowed by anyone, not even the crown prince of the realm. “It would be…rude to continue without your approval.”

  “How often do you two find it necessary to share…physical affection?” he asked as he shrugged off his jacket.

  Seeing that she was safe as long as she kept her answers honest, Aphra pushed herself off the wall and stood up straight. “As often as possible, my prince.”

  “She’s exaggerating,” Margareta said. The much smaller woman made it seem like she was a petulant child rather than the wife of the crown prince.

  Roderick didn’t care about what Margareta professed to be the truth. “I’m in an ebullient mood,” he said expansively. “It would please me to no end to watch my wife and her lover together. Please, continue what you were doing.”

  Both women looked uneasily at each other.

  Roderick inclined his head toward Aphra. “Get down on your knees and put your mouth to her cunt and make her cum,” he carefully and precisely instructed his wife. He didn’t feign anger toward her. He simply let her know exactly what he wanted.

  Knowing it was always best to obey, Aphra stepped back to the wall and started to lift her skirts for Margareta, but just as the princess knelt down, Roderick spoke again.

  “Wait. Stop. This is foolish. I came her for my benefit, not yours. And it seems the perfect time to compare your skills.” He opened up the front of his trousers and pulled out his semi-erect cock. “Margareta, you first. Miss McGuire says you have a talented tongue, but I’ve yet to get real proof of that. Let’s see which of you is best. Princesses first. Then your lover can suck my cock and I’ll compare the skills you two have.”

  It wasn’t exactly a punishment, but Margareta knew better than to argue. Once more she got up from her knees, crossed the room, and then knelt before her husband, carefully taking his cock into her hand and then her mouth. Roderick looked directly at Aphra while his wife fellated him.

  “Do you enjoy sex with men?” he asked her bluntly.

  “Yes, my prince.”

  “How many men have you fucked?”

  “Including you? Three.”

  He chuckled slightly. “Were any of them any good?”

  “Not as good as you, my prince.”

  That made him honestly laugh. “With a tongue like that you shouldn’t be a bodyguard, you should be a courtier.” He shook his head slowly back and forth. Abruptly he asked the next question. “Do you prefer sex with women?” He looked down meaningfully at his wife who was bobbing her head eagerly up and down on his cock.

  It was the first question he asked that made Aphra hesitate. “Yes, my prince.”

  He grunted. “Good. I’ll make sure my wife is available for you when you need her.” He stretched out his hand to her, gesturing her over. “Get down on your knees and join her. I want to compare you two.”

  Aphra did as he ordered. Even after her admission of a preference of sex with women, Aphra was not the least bit hesitant about taking t
he prince’s cock from Margareta’s mouth and fellating him while the princess watched.

  Roderick was pleased with how Aphra performed. Maybe she had had plenty of practice before or maybe her skills were instinctual, but she more than adequately sucked his cock. The prince was happy to admit to himself the bodyguard was better at it than his own wife. He didn’t tell either woman that, of course. The problems and the jealousy that it would cause would only give him more headaches.

  “You are your lover’s equal,” he instead told Aphra, sliding his cock out of her mouth and angling it back toward his wife. Margareta didn’t complain. She resumed the task that Aphra had been relieved of; she didn’t want to be seen as petulant or incompetent.

  “Thank you, my prince, but I’m sure she’s better at it than I.”

  He smiled down at her and tangled his fingers in her hair. It wasn’t as elaborately arranged as his wife’s and that was a pleasure in itself. He pulled back her head, exposing her throat, making her feel vulnerable on her knees and unprotected. “Would you rather that I fuck you or would you rather watch while I fuck my wife?” he asked her.

  She gave out a little gasp. “Whichever you prefer, of course.”

  While Margareta continued to suck on him, he focused his attention on Aphra. “That’s not what I asked. I want your opinion.” He pulled her head back further, causing a minor flash of pain in her neck. It was nothing, not for a bodyguard, but the implication was obvious. Margareta eyed her lover while continuing to suck on her husband’s cock; it was impossible for her to give an opinion on the matter.

  “The princess deserves the pleasure of you cock much more than me,” said Aphra. With her head tilted back uncomfortably and on her knees it was hard to concentrate, but she still knew the right thing to say.