by Robin Gideon
They had only a short walk, less than twenty feet to an arched door. Mademoiselle Clarisse fished a key from the pocket of her skirt as she walked, inserting it in the lock while hardly breaking stride. She pushed the door open wide and stepped aside so that Alek and Julian could enter, pulling Estelle along behind them. Mademoiselle Clarisse entered the office last.
“Stop. Wait just a minute,” Estelle panted when the door to the office had closed with an eerie sound of finality.
Mademoiselle Clarisse’s private office was nothing like what Estelle would have expected. There were no garish red lampshades, no red velvet pillows hiding stains on the furniture. Rather, the walls were lined with bookcases, and a single large mahogany desk was to the left, facing into the room. On the opposite side was a very large sofa, perhaps seven feet long and upholstered in navy-blue brocade. The sofa was bracketed with two overstuffed chairs of identical upholstery. Rather than bawdy, the office whispered of solidity, stability, and feminine strength.
“This isn’t a whorehouse,” Mademoiselle Clarisse said with understated offense, reading Estelle’s expression. “You shouldn’t be so shocked.”
“I’m sorry,” Estelle replied. “I…I’m just so confused and—”
She would have said more, but at that moment both Julian and Alek tossed their capes onto one of the overstuff chairs. When they turned toward her, she got her first truly unimpeded view of their erections—pale against the ebony trousers of their tuxedoes—and the sight of such masculine abundance literally took her breath away. She put a hand to her chest and took a step backward.
“Oh, my!” she whispered.
Despite her experience in such matters, even Mademoiselle Clarisse was impressed with the extravagant dimensions of her handsome customers.
“I haven’t been tempted to touch a man in more than a decade.” Mademoiselle Clarisse’s tone became low, spiced with sensuality as she concluded, “Until now.” She kissed Estelle on the cheek and whispered into her ear, “You seem to have an embarrassment of riches. You’re a lucky young woman.”
When the office door closed behind Mademoiselle Clarisse, and Estelle heard the lock sliding into place from the outside, the reality of what was happening hit her like a physical force.
“Wait…just wait,” she whispered. “I…I’ve got to think.”
Julian shook his head slowly as he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it into a chair. “I’ve waited too long for you already,” he explained, pulling loose his necktie. He looked down at his erection which was angled slightly upward and was pointing at the object of his desire. He smiled at Estelle and added, referring to his erection, “He’s waited too long, as well.”
As though narcotized by their masculine beauty, Estelle stood motionless, her mouth open just a little, her violet eyes distinctly glazed as Julian and Alek undressed quickly, both men completely confident and at ease with their own nudity. Both men were obviously ready for Estelle, though she wasn’t so certain she was ready for them.
Alek was taller, broader. Julian was shorter, leaner. One had almost snow-blond hair clipped short, while the other had shoulder-length hair the color of a raven’s wing. There was a puckered scar high on Alek’s left shoulder, and Estelle suspected it had been caused by a bullet. A long pale scar along Julian’s ribs on the left side had been caused by a knife. Estelle had no doubt about that one.
They were young, powerful lions. And they were looking at Estelle like they wanted to sink their teeth into her.
As they crossed the room to her, Estelle put a hand to her forehead and whispered, “I’ve got to think. You’ve got to give me time to think.”
Alek, towering over Estelle, said softly, “Thinking is the last thing you want to do right now.” He pulled a pin from Estelle’s hair, then a second one. “This is a time for feeling, not thinking.”
When Alek pulled the third pin from Estelle’s hair, her honey-blonde tresses tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. When he fluffed her hair with his fingers, Estelle moaned softly. Her nerve endings all seemed supernaturally sensitized.
Julian cupped Estelle’s face in his palm, turning her toward him. When he kissed her, lightly pressing his lips over hers, she moaned again, her body swaying almost drunkenly.
She kissed them in turns, allowing Julian to explore her mouth with his tongue, then turning moist lips to Alek for pleasuring. As one man kissed her, the other was busy with the buttons of her dress.
“This isn’t fair,” Estelle whispered as Alek and Julian pushed her dress over her shoulders and down her body, taking her petticoats down with them.
She stepped out of the garments while Alek unhooked her corset. Estelle’s stockings, attached by garters to her corset, were removed, and finally her camisole.
“I feel like I’m drunk, but I know I’m not,” Estelle whispered. “Why am I letting this happen?”
They took her by the hands and guided her over to the sofa. There was nothing in Estelle’s personal history to prepare her or educate her as to what would be expected of her. This was far beyond anything she had ever done sexually, beyond even what she had fantasized about. Her adolescent fantasies of being seduced by a knight in shining armor never included two knights in armor.
They sat on the sofa. Alek pushed his fingers into Estelle’s golden hair, turning her face toward him. As his mouth sealed over hers, Julian’s warm lips captured Estelle’s nipple. She moaned into Alek’s mouth, a low, warbling sound of unanticipated passion. Strong hands touched her knees, pulling them apart to expose her to intimate caresses.
Estelle spread her arms, putting one around Alek’s massive shoulders as she hugged Julian to the lush mound of her breast with the other. A caressing finger eased between her moist labia, pushing in slowly, careful to judge her readiness. Estelle wondered whether it was Julian or Alek invading her most intimate place. It didn’t really matter. She adored them both equally, lusting after them with a primitive, primordial need that she had never before experienced or even knew was possible.
“That’s it, darling Estelle,” Alek whispered. “Just let yourself feel.” He traced the perimeter of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, then eased down on the sofa. “Such beautiful breasts. So big and beautiful.” He opened his mouth wide, sucking as much of her nipple and areola into his mouth as possible.
Estelle cried out in momentary shock when she felt Alek take her breast into his mouth. To have two hot, wet mouths caressing her nipples simultaneously was an electrifying experience. Looking down, Estelle was given the surreal pleasure of watching two handsome men feasting on the lush mounds of her breasts, sucking and licking and nibbling on jewel-hard, wickedly responsive nipples. She realized then that these men could make her come just from sucking on her nipples.
Julian eased off the sofa, settling on his knees on the floor. “Look at me,” he said to Estelle. “Watch what I do.”
Estelle leaned slightly to the side to have an unobstructed view of the English prince. When their gazes locked, he leaned forward slowly until his mouth was scant inches from her pussy. He blew softly on her cunt for a moment, teasing her. And finally, when he pressed his mouth to Estelle and thrust his tongue between the lips of her pussy, she cried out in shock, her body jolted by the exquisite sensation of an oral caress. She tried to close her legs, but Julian was much stronger than she, and he forced her knees obscenely wide apart as he dragged his tongue through the cleavage of her pussy until he reached her clitoris. He sucked the small, pink button of flesh between his lips, flicking his tongue from side to side.
Estelle had very little forewarning of her orgasm. Julian had two fingers inside her pussy and was sucking tenderly upon her clitoris when suddenly the climactic spasms began. Estelle gasped an obscenity as she arched her back, thrusting her pussy upward against Julian’s tantalizing mouth. And when at last the spasms subsided, she slumped back down onto the velvet sofa, gasping for air, a faint sheen of perspiration glistening on her naked body.
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br /> “I thought…I would die,” she whispered between gulps of air.
Julian was smiling as he straightened his body, remaining on his knees on the floor.
“That was just the beginning,” he said, guiding the flaring crown of his erection to her still-tingling pussy.
“You mustn’t climax inside me,” Estelle explained, her tone serious. “You’ve got to promise that you won’t do that.”
“Of course not,” Julian replied. “Don’t take me for a fool.”
Watching the movement of powerful muscles just beneath the surface of the skin in Julian’s torso, Estelle whispered with frank honesty, “Your body is flawless.”
Estelle would have said more, but Julian pushed the crown of his cock into her, making an initial short invasion before quickly retreating. On his second thrust, he buried much more of his steelish flesh within her welcoming body, and she cried out in pleasure, feeling herself being invaded more deeply than ever before, her body immediately adjusting to Julian’s extravagant size.
She did not realize that Alek was no longer sitting beside her until he pushed his fingers into her hair and forcibly turned her face to the side. He was kneeling on the sofa, his cock hard and thick and distinctly intimidating with its size and obvious power. Estelle wrapped her fingers around the shaft and stroked from base to tip. A drop of fluid formed at the slit.
I am a very bad woman, Estelle thought as she smoothed the slippery pearl of fluid around the head of Alek’s cock with her thumb. I like being bad with these men.
Estelle knew what he wanted from her. It was what her husband used to want her to do, back when he desired her, back when he hadn’t despised her as he did now. With Prince Horace, taking his cock into her mouth was something she was obliged to do, though Estelle never took any pleasure in the act. But with Alek, it was quite a different matter entirely. Estelle wanted to see the passion and pleasure shine in his eyes as she sucked his cock, working her lips and tongue over his lust-hardened flesh to drive him insane with desire.
With her body rocking from the steadily increasing onslaught of Julian’s hips, Estelle opened her lips and Alek pushed his cock between them. As she drew a firm suction on Alek, Estelle wondered if he wanted her to swallow his passion, and she wondered, too, whether she wanted to. The mere fact that she even asked herself the question was testimony to how aroused these two men made her.
It was hardly the most comfortable position to make love, though Estelle was in no mood to complain. Her head and shoulders were against the backrest of the long sofa, her hips at the edge of the cushions. Prince Julian was between her thighs, working his hips back and forth, driving the entire length of his erection to the depths of her sweetly clasping channel. Alek was kneeling on the sofa near Estelle’s left shoulder, his frightening cock stone solid and amazingly thick. When he pushed between Estelle’s butter-soft lips, she was unable to hold more than just the crown and an inch of the shaft in her mouth. Trying to take any more of his erection between her lips meant taking him into her throat, and that was something Estelle couldn’t possibly do.
Chapter Five
Julian thrust forward, driving hard into Estelle’s receptive body. When his pelvis collided with hers, he paused a moment, his cock fully embedded within her sweet, wet warmth. Looking down at where their bodies were joined, he withdrew slowly and watched his cock slide slowly out of her. In the back of his mind, Julian kept thinking that he shouldn’t be this excited. Estelle was beautiful, to be sure, but most of his lovers were quite beautiful. She had an amazing body with bountiful breasts that were large and firm, trim hips, and legs that were meant to surround a man’s hips as they made love, but many of Julian’s lovers had exquisite figures.
Julian kept telling himself that he had enough experience at seducing women that he should have a more cavalier attitude toward what he was now doing in Mademoiselle Clarisse’s private office. Except what his mind was telling him wasn’t what his body was feeling. He was rapidly losing control of himself, his cock harder than he could ever remember it being. And even though he had only stroked his cock into Estelle perhaps a dozen times, he could already feel the tingling in his testicles that warned him it wouldn’t be long before he exploded.
Trying to calm his ardor, to cool his passion just a little, Julian turned his gaze away from where his body joined with Estelle’s. He looked at her face, in profile to him, but that did absolutely nothing to dampen his feverish senses, because the vision of eroticism presented to him was nearly enough to give him a climax right then and there. Estelle’s chin was nearly touching her shoulder, and her features were distorted as she took Alek’s thick cock back and forth between the soft fullness of her lips, her cheeks hollowed with the suction she provided.
“She’s so tight,” Julian groaned, his teeth clenched. He had meant to sound casual, to appear as a man in complete control of himself and his surroundings, but the words came out piano-wire taut. The tension gripping his body and soul was quite evident.
He turned his gaze from Estelle’s face down to her breasts. Driving hard into her, he watched the way the ripe, heavy mounds rolled from the impact, the areolas pale pink and the width of his palm, the nipples cylindrical and distended, displaying Estelle’s passion.
I shouldn’t be this excited this fast.
Julian was angry with himself because he could feel his orgasm approaching at a galloping pace. Under normal circumstances with other women, his orgasmic discipline was a matter of legend. He could “pull the trigger,” as he liked to call it, at his own discretion, whenever he wanted to. But with Princess Estelle, he could no more slow down his roiling emotions than he could change the phases of the moon.
Everything about Estelle excited him. She was a treat to all the senses. Julian watched, transfixed with lust, as his best friend’s solid cock distorted her delicate features with her jaws so wide open. She reached down with her right hand to use the pads of her first two fingers against her clitoris as Julian filled her sweet cleft with his cock. She had hardly touched herself for fifteen seconds, working her fingers in a circular motion on her clitoris, when suddenly her right leg extended, toes pointing straight out as her voluptuous body began shuddering through yet another climax.
Estelle moaned around Alek’s solid cock as she trembled, her body shuddering through orgasmic spasms.
It was more than Julian could take. He withdrew a fraction of a second before the thick, milky eruptions of sperm raced through the length of his cock to spew from him. The cum arced through the air, hitting the underside of Estelle’s right breast, leaving a gooey trail of cream down to the rectangular patch of silky blonde hair at her pubes.
Julian’s orgasm had barely concluded before Alek’s started. Withdrawing from the princess’s oral embrace, he angled his erection away from her face and erupted, his cum sticking to the perspiration-moistened mounds of her breasts.
“I’ve never…come so hard…in my life,” Julian said, between gulps of air, with more honesty than he had intended.
Estelle was taking gulping breaths, exhausted from being the sole recipient of lusty attention from two extremely virile men. Her breasts, stomach, and pubes were slick with the combined release of two men.
She issued a smile that was soft and weak, and said in a purr, “Julian, thank you for remembering.”
“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure.”
“Not exclusively,” Estelle replied.
Prince Horace doesn’t deserve to have her. She’s a priceless jewel who doesn’t realize how precious she really is. It was an uncharacteristically possessive thought for Julian to have.
A moment later he heard a key being fitted into the door’s lock. He hoped Mademoiselle Clarisse maintained her amenable disposition toward the use of her private office.
* * * *
Mademoiselle Clarisse unlocked the door to her office, glanced over her shoulder to make sure that she wasn’t being followed by either patrons or employees, then push
ed the wheeled cart into the room and quickly closed the door.
When she looked toward the sofa, the young blonde woman, obviously having been surprised by her entrance into the room, was frantically trying to figure out how to cover her nudity. But her clothes were on the floor halfway across the room, and when she covered herself with her hands, there was all that sperm on her breasts and stomach to deal with. Seeing the pale-skinned woman, her body gleaming with a combination of perspiration and cum, her whole body and being practically glowing from the aftereffects of carnal satisfaction, made Mademoiselle Clarisse wonder whether she herself shouldn’t come out of sexual retirement. The only men that tempted her were Count Alek and Prince Julian. Either one could seduce a nun into iniquitous sin. Or, as the young blonde woman with the exquisitely shaped breasts had no doubt just discovered, perhaps having both of them simultaneously would be the ultimate thrill. For all of Mademoiselle Clarisse’s former libidinous excess, she had never been the fulcrum of a ménage à trois.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Mademoiselle Clarisse said, pushing the cart toward the sofa as the woman, bracketed by two large and completely naked men, squirmed in abject humiliation. “There’s nothing you can say or do that would shock me.” She stepped up to the sofa, smiling down at the woman, making a point of not looking at either of the men sitting on the sofa with her. “What’s your name, my dear?”
The pale woman closed her violet eyes, put her face in her hands, and said through her fingers, “Prin…ummm…Estelle. My name is Estelle, and I’ve never been more ashamed and embarrassed in my life.”
Princess Estelle Moreland? The awareness shocked Mademoiselle Clarisse. Though she was stunned to discover the identity of her newest patron, this did not show in her expression. Too many years of making a handsome living by guarding the lurid secrets of London’s wealthy, powerful, and dissipated, prevented her from ever allowing that kind of surprise to show in her outward appearance. While she had never met Estelle before, Mademoiselle Clarisse knew of the princess’s husband. Prince Horace showed up at her establishment occasionally, always with a prostitute of varying quality and expense on his arm, boasting in a loud and blustery voice, giving denigrating demands to her staff as though he was a special man instead of just another one of the legions of disgraced and impoverished English royalty. He had the title, and if his parents hadn’t had the good sense to arrange his marriage to Estelle through her parents, that’s all he would have.