by Robin Gideon
Mademoiselle Clarisse was glad now that she had taken the time to fill a pitcher with hot water for her guests, along with the champagne and schnapps to fortify them. She had intended the soap, water, and washcloths for Julian and Alek. After all, they were steady customers, they always paid their bills on time, and they were known to give additional money for particularly attentive service. But now it was quite clear to Mademoiselle Clarisse that it was Princess Estelle who needed the soap and water most. Besides, with that body, she was an enticement even a saint couldn’t resist.
She took the pitcher and poured steaming water into the matching porcelain bowl, then put a washcloth into the water. When Julian reached for the damp cloth, the younger woman started fidgeting nervously even more than she had earlier.
“Relax now, darling,” Julian said with a carnal purr. “Let me wash you. I’ll take care of you.”
“This isn’t necessary,” Estelle replied. She received an arch look from Mademoiselle Clarisse, and added quickly, “I can do it myself.”
“Shhh! There’s no reason to make such a fuss.”
Julian took Estelle by the wrist, lifting her hand away from her pussy. With the wet wash cloth he cleaned Estelle’s hand, paying careful attention to each individual finger. Kneeling on the floor, he rinsed the cloth in the basin of warm water, and then cleaned Estelle’s other hand. All outward appearances of the prince’s actions were entirely innocent, though Mademoiselle Clarisse’s heart was beating faster and faster.
“Let them take care of you, Princess Estelle.” Mademoiselle Clarisse’s gently confident gaze met the princess’s anxious one. “Yes, I know who you are, my dear. There isn’t much in London that I don’t hear about sooner or later.” She watched as Julian put his hands on the insides of Estelle’s knees and gently forced them apart before crawling forward. “Your modesty is charming but unnecessary. I’m sure the good prince is only trying to be of service.” She smiled warmly, her expression only faintly colored by desire. “I’m quite certain you’ve had chambermaids taking care of you since you were a baby. If it’ll make you feel better, try thinking of the prince in that way.”
Estelle’s cheeks and ears were pink with embarrassment. She answered, “Yes, I have servants…but they’re all women, and I’ve never asked them to…”
“Shhh, my lady,” Julian said quietly. “You can ask anything of me.” The timbre of the prince’s voice implied that any and all sexual requests would be warmly received, with satisfaction a guarantee.
Using the damp cloth, Julian started with Estelle’s throat, gently and carefully wiping the delicate skin clean, rinsing the cloth out repeatedly in the warm water. As he began cleansing Estelle’s breasts, the younger woman started squirming again. Mademoiselle Clarisse felt a spark of excitement blaze to life inside herself—the first sensual spark she’d felt in quite some time. As Estelle squirmed, Mademoiselle Clarisse noticed that Prince Julian paid rather more careful attention to cleaning the extravagant mounds of her bosom than was necessary.
Casting a critical eye toward Julian, Mademoiselle Clarisse asked with accusatory sarcasm, “Was this just you two men, or have you brought an army in here that I didn’t notice?”
“Just Alek and myself, I’m afraid,” Julian answered, rinsing clean the cloth once again.
“You men have made quite a mess of this lovely woman.” She turned her attention to Estelle and made a face. “Making love with men is an untidy business.”
Estelle put a hand over her eyes in embarrassment. She whispered, “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. I can’t believe I’m even here. And I most certainly can’t believe what I’ve just done, or what is happening right now.” She shuddered. “How did things get so far?”
Estelle tried to sit up a little straighter on the sofa, but Julian put a hand on her stomach to stop her. He wanted Estelle to stay where she was, half reclining on the seat cushion with her lovely breasts spread toward the sides of her body, her flat stomach with its indented navel teasing him to lick it, her shapely thighs straddling his broad shoulders as he knelt as though in homage to the princess’s beauty.
After rinsing the cloth clean yet again, the prince had finally reached Estelle’s sex. Slowly and carefully, he began washing the golden pubic hair, wiping away the residual cum that had matted the soft hairs. When he was at last finished, Mademoiselle Clarisse surveyed his handiwork—and felt her own pussy getting warm and wet for the first time in years.
“This woman is a goddess,” she said, her dark eyes roaming slowly over Estelle’s splendid nudity. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such flawless beauty. Her skin is like satin.”
Prince Julian, kneeling on the floor between Estelle’s widespread thighs, leaned over the princess, heading toward the pink tip of her left breast. Estelle gasped and quickly put her hands on Julian’s shoulders, stopping his progress. Julian and Alek acted quickly then, each grasping a wrist and spreading her arms out. They held her securely with her arms outstretched, her naked body on display and completely accessible.
“I’ve brought something for you,” Mademoiselle Clarisse said, looking down at the sofa and its occupants. “Alek thought it might be a good idea.”
She extracted from beneath a towel on the cart an embroidered silk purse. Reaching inside, she produced a small piece of India rubber.
“A Dutch cap,” Estelle stated quietly, recognizing the contraceptive cervical cap. She smiled dreamily. “How thoughtful.”
Mademoiselle Clarisse’s eyes met Estelle’s. “A Dutch cap works better than Greek sponges, and they’re more comfortable.” Her gaze drifted to Estelle’s breasts, then down to her pussy. By the time she was once again looking into the princess’s eyes, Mademoiselle Clarisse’s breathing had quickened considerably, and her hands were trembling faintly. “Perhaps it would be best if this lovely, dissolute prince helped you with it.”
She watched as Julian caressed the princess’s pussy lightly with his fingertips, and Estelle whispered, “Oh, God…what’s happening?”
Alek, holding securely onto Estelle’s wrist, replied, “Not God, just Julian. Relax and enjoy.”
Julian touched Estelle’s pink-lipped pussy with a caress that was feather soft. Estelle flinched.
“Relax now. Let me take care of you,” the prince purred.
He set the small rubber cervical cap on Estelle’s stomach and then placed both of his hands on the inside of the princess’s thighs so that his thumbs were close together. Gently, he used his thumbs to ease apart delicate tissue, exposing the inner pink flesh and the small, pulsing clitoris.
As Estelle squirmed, Mademoiselle Clarisse studied her sex with a connoisseur’s eye. After several seconds, she said, “You poor child, you’re swollen. These brutes have ravaged you.” Her gaze lifted to Alek, a flash of anger in her eyes conveying all she needed to say without words. “Be careful, Prince Julian. She’s delicate.”
“You should be wetter than this for me to put the cap in,” the prince whispered to Estelle. “You’ve got to be wet or the cap won’t slide in properly.”
With a sigh of contentment, the prince lowered his shoulders even more and brought his mouth to the delicate pink lips of Estelle’s pussy. He eased his tongue between the slick folds of tissue, licking upward until he reached Estelle’s clitoris. There, he circled the button of flesh briefly before flicking his tongue over it.
Estelle might have said something. Perhaps she only moaned. Mademoiselle Clarisse couldn’t discern what the words were—if, in fact, they were actual words—and frankly didn’t much care. The voyeuristic excitement in Mademoiselle Clarisse was escalating at a furious pace, and she wondered whether one of the young men working as waiters in her establishment might not be amenable to rather more pleasurable work duties than cleaning dishes.
Prince Julian pressed his mouth against Estelle’s pussy, his nose in the short, slightly curly blonde hair. He worked her tongue through the princess’s fleshy cleavage. The mademoiselle took a ha
lf step to the side to have a better view of the intimate activity. Estelle’s labia were still swollen from vigorous activity, and as Mademoiselle Clarisse had seen for herself, both Alek and Julian were magnificently endowed.
In the young princess’s eyes was a mixture of anxiety and awe, fear, and arousal. She might not like the fact that she was responding powerfully to having a handsome prince’s tongue tantalizing her pussy while another woman watched her, but that didn’t stop her body from reacting exactly as the men wanted.
Finally, Prince Julian leaned away from Estelle. When he smiled, his lips glistened with Estelle’s slick honey. “What are you thinking, my dear? I want to know what you’re thinking…before I make you come.”
* * * *
Estelle looked into Mademoiselle Clarisse’s eyes, struggling desperately to make some logical sense of what was happening.
This is sooo wrong! I should be screaming my head off!
But she didn’t scream. She didn’t even protest. And other than the almost continual purring moans of carnal delight that came from her, the princess said nothing at all. When Prince Julian resumed the oral caresses, working his tongue between Estelle’s pussy lips and whipping his tongue over the lust-hardened clitoris, the unalloyed pleasure was such that there was no question whether the princess would have an orgasm. The only uncertainty was when Estelle would climax, and just exactly how powerful it would be.
Estelle tried to pull her wrist out of Alek’s grasp. He tightened his grip on her wrist, holding her securely. Though she never would have admitted it, the princess enjoyed the fact that Julian and Alek were holding her securely, preventing her from defending herself. Being so thoroughly dominated by Alek and Julian allowed the princess the patently false alibi of helplessness. It wasn’t her fault that Mademoiselle Clarisse had decided to stand in audience to her indiscreet lovers, Estelle decided, conveniently accepting her own hypocritical self-justification.
Prince Julian leaned away from Estelle. His smile had a certain predatory quality to it, his lips shimmering with the nectar of Estelle’s pussy. He asked, “What are you thinking, my dear? I want to know what you’re thinking…before I make you come.”
Estelle shook her head weakly. The surface of her skin tingled from head to toe. Her heavy breasts quivered as she took erratic gulping breaths. “This is wrong,” Estelle at last whispered. “Doesn’t it bother you that we’re being watched?”
“Princess, I’m being watched, and so are you. If our pleasure amuses our hostess, so much the better.” A dark eyebrow lifted mockingly. “And you are sooo delicious.”
With that, Prince Julian resumed devouring the princess’s pussy with a slow, sensual approach to pleasuring that made Estelle feel as though the top of her head was going to come right off. It didn’t, of course, though she did arch her back, lewdly thrusting her pelvis forward to mash her pussy against the prince’s mouth when the orgasmic spasms pulsed through her. Estelle didn’t even try to pretend that she hadn’t enjoyed every single second of Julian’s attentions, though the exhibitionistic aspect of the orgasm was deeply unsettling.
Prince Julian picked up the Dutch cap from the sofa cushions where it had fallen from Estelle’s stomach during her orgasmic gyrations. With his right hand, he eased a single finger inside Estelle. The finger slid in smoothly, the path slick with her lubricating honey.
“Ohhh!” Estelle sighed. “I know it shouldn’t feel so good to have a man touching me and a woman watching me, but…”
Using two fingers, the prince inserted the Dutch cap. Estelle shivered on the sofa, her nerves electrified, her body ready to receive pleasure.
“Now you won’t have to worry about those barbarians making you pregnant,” Mademoiselle Clarisse said quietly, with a feminine authority only years can give. “Enjoy yourselves. And you men, don’t be too rough on her. Just remember that you’re big barbarian men, and she’s a lady, and a small one at that.”
Princess Estelle looked into the eyes of Julian and Alek, and then down at their erections. Both men were, quite literally, up for more loving…
* * * *
“You wouldn’t believe the pigs she was trying to pawn off on me,” Prince Horace Moreland said to David. “She said they were young and fresh, but I could see they’d already been used by men. She’s such a liar.”
Horace looked at the pimp, then at the girl seated across the small table from him. She was just twenty, though she appeared older than that. After having worked in David’s stable for several years, she was beginning to take on a hard, embittered, utterly cynical appearance. The girl was from Istanbul, David had claimed, though Horace was suspicious because pimps quite often tried to make their girls sound foreign and exotic.
“You say you want me to find a thin girl? One who you can do with what you will?” David’s eyebrows lifted fractionally as he looked at the dissolute prince. His voice dipped conspiratorially. “One without any pubic hair?”
Horace nodded. “I’m tired of old sows with their big tits. I need someone young and fresh.”
With a nod of his head, David dismissed the bored prostitute. After she had walked away, he leaned closer to Horace, and when he spoke, he kept his voice very low, even though there was no one else in the bordello’s lounge to overhear what he had to say.
“Instead of young girls, why not try some young boys?” David asked. “I can get you some from India. Very young. Slender. No body hair. Very lovely to look at.” He spread his hands palms outward in a gesture of complete openness. “Best of all, nobody will miss them. You can buy a couple from me. If they disappear no one will complain.” There was a wicked gleam in his eyes. “They’ll be virgins. You can do anything you want to with them. Anything.”
Prince Horace felt the blood drain from his face. Young boys? Lovely young boys? Horace had never really given boys much consideration as far as sex objects went, but once the subject was raised by David, it put a lightning bolt of excitement in his veins.
“How much are we talking about?” Horace asked.
A bead of perspiration formed on the prince’s forehead. He suddenly realized he had unexpected options regarding sex partners. The fact that he could do with the boys anything he wanted was an added incentive. He could take his riding crop to them, and there wouldn’t be anything they could say or do to stop him. A rush of desire surged through his veins, the feeling more powerful than any he had experienced in two decades or more. But he was a man in constant financial straits, particularly most recently, and he wanted to get the most value for his expenditure.
David waggled a palm. “Not an amount you couldn’t come up with.”
“If I buy more than one—say two or even three boys at one time—what would the advantage be to me financially?” He tried to keep the savage glee from his tone. The concept of buying someone was so much more tantalizing that simply renting a body for a number of hours. A whole new universe of perverted pleasures had suddenly opened up for the prince. “And you’re sure they’ll do as they are told? I can do anything to them I want?”
David’s smile was without warmth. “Buy two, and I’ll give you the third boy for free.” He shrugged blandly. “As for what you do with them, once I’ve been paid, they’re your property. It is not for me to tell a prince what to do with his”—he smiled sadistically—“slaves.” He raised a single finger heavenward, and lowered his voice even more for breathless emphasis. “But no credit, my dear Prince Horace. I can sell you all the boys you want, but you must have the money.”
Horace closed his eyes as a small shiver worked up his spine. He needed money, and he needed it quickly. Princess Estelle had better open her purse wider than she had in the past, or she’d taste his fists for sure.
* * * *
Will this be the sixth orgasm, or the seventh?
It was an interesting question for Princess Estelle to ponder as she rocked back and forth on her hands and knees on the sofa, in the process of being spectacularly double penetrated. Behind
her, on his knees, Alek’s powerful hands were at her naked hips to hold her securely as his torso collided with her buns, his cock spearing deeply into her receptive body. Kneeling in front of the princess, also on his knees, was Prince Julian, his erection beautifully formed and filling her mouth to overflowing.
The sound of passion so physical it was nearly violent echoed off the walls of the private office. Each time Alek slammed against Estelle’s buttocks and his cock filled her tight pussy, she uttered a little squeak, the sound high pitched, coming through her nostrils. Alek’s shaft was extremely thick, heavily veined, and extraordinarily solid as it tugged and pushed at her labia and rubbed against her clitoris, pushing her relentlessly toward her climax.
“Tight,” Alek said with a groan, pummeling the princess’s backside as he thrust into her with greater force, his own excitement peaking rapidly. He raised his right hand from Estelle’s hip, then brought his palm down hard on her bottom, his hand striking loudly.
Estelle flinched and gasped when she was spanked the first time by Alek. By the time Alek delivered the fifth stinging slap to the cheeks of her ass, now delivered alternately with both hands to turn her bottom a bright pink, her insides tightened and she began to climax. Intense pleasure and mild pain had become indistinguishable for Estelle’s overloaded sensory system. Her spine arched, first upward and then downward violently, as a tsunami of contradictory emotions pulsed through her.