Forbidden Pleasure

by Bertrice Small

  "Now, sir," Emily said in a stern voice. "You have admitted to being naughty. You will confess your fault, and then I shall decide how severe your punishment will be. What have you done, sir? The truth now!" She flourished the rod, which made a fierce swishing sound.

  The other men looked to one another, grinning and nodding.

  "I caught my cousin Eloise and her maid, Tansy, fondling each other's titties, licking each other's cunnies, and frigging each other. I threatened to tell on them if Eloise did not suck me to a stand, and then let me fuck her maid, but when the maid came too quickly, I buggered Eloise until I finally came. She is very angry at me."

  "Did you request her permission to ass fuck her, William?" Emily said seriously.

  "No," he said in a petulant tone. "I was far too angry at her wench for coming before I did. Eloise was lying on the bed. She laughed at me, so I rolled her over and just did it to her." He chuckled wickedly. "She squealed like a little piglet when my come filled her up."

  "Well," Emily remarked, "you have certainly been a very, very naughty fellow. One does not ass-fuck a lady without her permission. Had it been the servant that would have been a different matter. After all, it was the maid who was at fault, not her mistress. You will have ten strokes of the rod, and then I shall decide if that is enough." Emily said, bringing the birch down on his plump buttocks. He yelped, his body jerking as much as it could as she continued on. When ten red stripes had bloomed upon his pale flesh, Emily asked Savannah, "Is he ready, Pol? Or must he have more?"

  The other men looked to Savannah, who had seated herself before Sir William's penis, and watched as it began to rise with each stroke of the rod.

  "I think he must have five more strokes, Molly, and I think it will help him if I can lick those big, hairy balls of his. Too much of the rod and he will falter entirely."

  Emily began to slowly administer the final five strokes while Savannah attended to Sir William's balls with a wicked tongue. When the last blow had fallen and his friends rushed to undo Sir William, Savannah remained, licking him. But once freed, Sir William pushed Emily to the floor, fell upon her, and began fucking her vigorously. She wrapped her legs about his thick torso and enjoyed every minute of his attentions.

  "Champagne!" Savannah sang out quickly, when Emily and Sir William moaned with their orgasms. "We must have more champagne! Then Emily and I must bathe before we continue on, good sirs. We still have much of the night ahead of us, and my cousin and I have not yet been fucked by all of you. I cannot count the night a success until that has happened."

  "Oh, we shall all enjoy your bountiful charms, my pets," St. Albans promised.

  He was, Emily observed, the leader of the group. He stood naked and quite at ease among his friends. He might very well have been at his club. "Is he going to be your next hero?" she murmured to Savannah who was now pouring the gentlemen their champagne. "He's very handsome and most commanding, I think."

  "No, not this St. Albans," Savannah replied. "I'm planning on using an ancestor of his in my next book. It'll be a Renaissance setting. Henry the Eighth or Elizabeth. I haven't decided yet. St. Albans is a marquess's heir. I'm going to write about the ancestor who first got the earldom. The other title didn't come until Charles the Second."

  Seeing that everyone now had a glass of fresh champagne, Emily lifted her own glass. "Drink up, good sirs! Polly and I don't want you to flag before the night is over."

  The gentlemen laughed and raised their glasses, toasting Polly and Molly, the two finest whores in England.

  "Can't speak for the rest of the world because I ain't never been nowhere," the Honorable John Stevenson declared as he drained his glass.

  The two women insisted on bathing alone, for they knew that if they allowed the men to join them, all would be lost. Savannah was very particular where cleanliness was concerned, especially after such a round of sexual activity. Emily agreed. Hot water had been brought into the bath next to the big room, and they washed themselves thoroughly. Then, calling the gentlemen to them one by one, they bathed their private parts. They had no sooner finished the ablutions when a knock sounded upon the door, and it opened to reveal two footmen and two little maidservants.

  The young men were dressed in tight breeches of dark black satin, and cream-colored vests that were embroidered with a floral design. They wore no shirts, and their arms were bare, their chests visible. Their penises hung out of their breeches, and the rear of the pants had circular cutouts revealing their tight bare buttocks. One of them carried a silver tray, and the other had his arms full of champagne bottles.

  The little maids who accompanied them were dressed only in tightly gartered black stockings with ruffled white lawn aprons tied with large bows. Each wore a frilly lawn cap upon her head and calf-high black boots upon their feet. The maids at the Cock and Cunt, but for some older women who supervised, were usually whores in training whose virginities were auctioned off when they reached the age of sixteen. They bustled in now, smiling, one announcing, "Madame Rose thought you might enjoy a small repast now, sirs. There are raw oysters and champagne for the gentlemen, and chocolates and champagne for Miss Molly and Pretty Polly." She curtsied.

  "Are you tired yet?" Savannah said softly to Emily. "Do you want to end this fantasy now? The gentlemen have been most enthusiastic tonight."

  Emily shook her head. "No," she replied. "The champagne and the chocolates will reinvigorate me, Sava. Besides, I am curious as to what is to come. We have yet to use that enormous bed, which is surely large enough for all of us."

  "We're about to use it." Savannah chuckled as the Honorable Frederick Sinclair and Baron James Everhard came to lead her by the hand to the bed. Lord Bertie Bowen and the Honorable John Stevenson came for Emily. St. Albans was recovering, and Sir William was swallowing down the last of the raw oysters.

  Lying on the bed, Emily kissed Lord Bowen's lips as her other companion lay behind her, fondling her large breasts. Lord Bowen's fingers played amid her pubic curls for a few moments before pushing past her nether lips to find her clitoris. She continued kissing him, her tongue playing hotly with his tongue. She was just faintly aware of Johnnie Stevenson stroking her bottom with seductive touches. She murmured and pressed back against him. His cock was hard, and, encouraged by her, he rubbed it down the valley between her buttocks.

  Then Lord Bowen was lifting one of her legs and bringing it over his torso as he slipped his thick penis into her cunt. Emily felt her ass being pulled open, and her other companion rubbing her fundament with some sort of cream. Then he was pushing into her. She whimpered slightly, but he was already fully sheathed, and his hands were back upon her breasts. "Ohh," she exclaimed as the men began to gently ream her from both ends. "Ohh! Ohh!" Would they find that certain spot? Oh, God, yes! They were working it from both sides, and it was incredible.

  "You can take two, my dear," Lord Bowen said.

  "And later you will take three," Johnnie Stevenson said, grunting as he worked in rhythm with his friend. "That's it, Mol, push your little ass back nicely onto my cock as Bertie fucks your pretty pussy. How tight you are!"

  Lord Bowen groaned with the pleasure he was receiving, and Emily, feeling the two penises almost rubbing against each other as they stroked that sweet little spot within her thought she was going to die of satisfaction. Could you die in the Channel? Could you die of incredible and wonderful sexual satisfaction? She didn't care. And then to her utter amazement they all came at almost the exact moment. She was being spermed from both ends, and it was unlike anything she had ever known before. She tore her lips from Lord Bowen and shrieked with pure delight. Then she fainted.

  "Magnificent!" St. Albans said as he observed the trio. "The girl is a perfect whore, gentlemen. Give her some champagne and help her to recover. I must have her again. What an adorable ass she has. I have never seen better."

  "Give her time to recover, St. Albans," Savannah said. "She has never before taken two men in that fashion. She has fucked and
sucked, and she has been buggered. But she has never been fucked and buggered at the same time. It was an incredible performance, and even I am amazed that she did it so well."

  "And she'll do it again!" St. Albans insisted. "I want her ass this time!"

  "And I want her pussy," Freddie Sinclair said. "I haven't had a taste yet at all."

  "Take me first," Savannah begged. "It will give Molly time to recuperate. Why should she have all the fun?" She turned onto her knees, thrusting her buttocks up. "Is this not worthy of your cocks, gentlemen?"

  Sir William grinned. "I'm a fool for a tight ass," he said.

  "And Pretty Polly has the juiciest cunt I've ever known," the baron said.

  The two men quickly had Savannah impaled on their engorged penises, and they all enjoyed themselves greatly before a mutual orgasm that left both men in a weakened state, for Savannah had squeezed both her vaginal and rectal muscles until both men were so filled with lust that their come burst forth in fierce spurts. She, however, felt merely refreshed. What a pity Reg would allow them to have only another woman in their bed. The things a girl could do with two men were delightful, she thought, and far more interesting than what two women might do together. She would do this again in the Cock and Cunt. It was her favorite fantasy on the Channel to date.

  Emily gradually regained consciousness and was plied with more of the champagne laced with aphrodisiacs. She was thirsty, and drank it down gladly. This evening was certainly an eye opener where sexual activity was concerned. She had seen pictures of much of what they had done in her research books, but in the reality of the Channel these things were far more exciting than on a printed page.

  "What time is it?" Willie Cunliffe asked.

  "Three thirty," St. Albans said, "and time for me to have Miss Molly's ass for myself. Are you recovered, my pet? As you can see, my poker is quite ready for you."

  "I want to do it differently," Emily said. "I want three cocks this time. I've never before done three at one time."

  James Everhard chuckled as he lay sprawled among the pillows in the middle of the bed. "Come onto my lance then, Mol. St. Albans can have you from the rear, and Freddie will have your mouth."

  "Ohh, yes!" Emily agreed, and straddling him, lowered herself onto his penis. It was every bit as large as St. Albans', and slid into her vagina easily. Leaning forward to facilitate her second lover, she felt St. Albans slowly pushing into her ass. The two men began to move in concert, and when they had established a rhythm Freddie Sinclair pulled Emily's head up by her hair, and Savannah guided his cock into Emily's mouth. She began to suck upon him, but the young man had been so aroused by just watching her with the baron and St. Albans that he came almost immediately. Emily, however, understanding his embarrassment, kept him in her mouth, sucking hard upon him and covering his faux pas.

  Savannah was, in the meantime, sucking upon the Honorable Johnnie's cock while Lord Bowen fucked her lustily, to be replaced eventually by Sir William. And then the two women heard the clock on the mantel striking the hour. Each regretted the time, but there were strict rules regarding the use of the Channel. They allowed their final orgasms to wash over them, and as the pleasure died they woke up together in Savannah's bed. Turning to look at each other, they burst into laughter.

  "You are the best and most awful friend a girl could have," Emily said, grinning. "I have never known a night like that. I never expect to know a night like that again, Sava. I don't believe I could survive another night like that. What a wicked imagination you have to have created such lusty men as those six."

  "We could go again," Savannah tempted her. "I know I will."

  "No, thank you very much," Emily replied.

  "Was it as good as with Devlin?" Savannah wanted to know.

  "No," Emily said honestly. "I'm not such a dope that I don't know you can get sexual pleasure with a man you don't love as long as you're having fun. But it's entirely different when you love a man, and you know it. I've had a taste of wickedness, Sava, but it will suffice me for the rest of my life."

  "But you seemed to enjoy the multiple partners," Savannah said.

  "I did, but you couldn't go on like that in the real world. A night like that would kill a healthy woman. And sex without emotion… well, it just isn't right. At least not for me, Sava. Call me old-fashioned, but there it is. It was a fun night, but I don't want to do it again. I don't think I could justify it to myself if I did."

  Savannah nodded. "I don't think I'll be taking the Channel's new service myself. I've had it two months now. I never wanted to use it before tonight. I don't really need it. I can visit the bordello on my own. But it was quite an experience, wasn't it?"

  "And you pregnant with your third child!" Emily scolded.

  "Nothing I do on the Channel harms that," Savannah said. "I asked."

  "Who did you ask?" Emily wanted to know.

  "Haven't you met Mr. Nicholas, who created the Channel? He's absolutely charming. He invited me to tea once before he moved on to his other interests. There's some woman running the Channel for him now. This double-click thing was her idea, I guess. I never met her, but I did meet him. I clicked on one night and there was this text message for me. I was invited to tea by Mr. Nicholas. Well, I couldn't resist, Emily, so I went. He asked me how I was enjoying it, and some other questions. All very harmless, and he had the most delicious chocolate biscotti. Actually, we didn't have tea. It was sherry. It was a wonderful sherry, but when I asked him where I might get a bottle he apologized and said it was bottled for him expressly. I've never seen him again, but I think he liked me," Savannah concluded. "He said that if he could ever be of help I was simply to leave him a message, and he would help me. Wasn't that nice? Maybe I'll ask him if he can do something about Gillian Brecknock. I wonder if he could. I hate it when Reg goes to see her."

  Emily nodded. "Sounds a bit odd," she said. "But nice." She yawned. "I have to get some rest if we're going up to London day after tomorrow, Sava." Turning away from her friend, she curled up and was soon asleep. Lady Palmer quickly joined her.

  ***

  The two women spent the next day relaxing, riding out into the autumn countryside, and playing with Savannah's children. They went to bed early, and the following morning were up early. Tonight Emily would be flying home, and the two friends were going up to London for a few hours of shopping before Lord Palmer's chauffeur would take them out to Heathrow. In late afternoon they stopped in at Claridge's for tea.

  "Put us somewhere discreet," Savannah said to the maitre d'. "We don't wish to be disturbed by fans, Charles."

  "Of course, Lady Palmer," the maitre d' said, leading them to a table in a corner where they might observe the room without necessarily being observed. "High tea?"

  Savannah nodded. "Perfect!" she said.

  "I'll send the waiter over immediately," the maitre d' replied with a bow, and he hurried off.

  "I love having tea here," Emily said. "It's so genteel, even today."

  "Yes," Savannah agreed. "Well, are you ready to finish The Defiant Duchess after your little interlude here in England?"

  "The whole thing is in my head and ready to be written. Poor Trahern will be very disappointed to know our time is almost over and done. He's been a most charming character, and I've actually enjoyed interacting with him. I think I would have felt guilty about it, except I made him look like Devlin." She chuckled.

  "Will Mick recognize himself?" Savannah was curious.

  "No," Emily said. "You describe a character on the pages of your manuscript, and you see him or her one way, but every reader sees them a little differently. Devlin hasn't recognized himself. It's odd. I've come to like Trahern. He's been more a friend and a confidant for me. Given the nature of what I do, I don't really have a lot of friends. Rina Seligmann is in her late fifties, and more a surrogate mother to me. You're in England." Emily laughed. "And the truth is, I don't really have a great deal of time for friends."

  "I know what you mean," Savanna
h agreed. "If it weren't for Reg and the children I'd be pretty much alone. I'm just barely involved in village life, but only because of him and the kids. And I don't really have any close women friends except you, and as you pointed out, we're an ocean apart. Well, that's the life of a successful writer, isn't it? We live for and are consumed by our work. It's a lonely business."

  "But you manage to do it even married with children," Emily remarked, and then her eye caught a couple entering the room. The woman looked familiar. "Oh, my God!" she said, and forced herself not to stare.

  "What is it?" Savannah wanted to know.

  "Your husband just came in with a woman who looks suspiciously like Madame Rose," Emily said, her fingers fumbling for her teacup. "Thinner, but same face and blazing red hair."

  "Oh, that's Gillian Brecknock," Savannah said casually. "Reg's little friend."

  "She looks older than him," Emily observed from beneath lowered lashes.

  "She's twelve years older, sweetie," Savannah replied with a small grin.

  "Why does he do it? I can see he loves you and the kids," Emily said.

  "Well, I wondered that myself," Savannah answered, "when I found out he was coming up to town to see her every now and again. He swore to me when we married that he had given her up, but as he obviously hadn't, I hired an investigator to find out for me what was going on. Gillian styles herself an actress, but she hasn't had a play in five years, and she hasn't done a film in eight. She needs to support herself, and Reg is just one of a number of friends she has who suffer from what I call naughty-boy syndrome. Gillian has become a dominatrix. It's all very discreet. A number of very prominent men go to her for what is referred to as correction. She's obviously very good at what she does. I was shopping here in town about a year ago and saw them together. That's when I got suspicious, but I suppose it's harmless, and I know Reg loves me, so I simply pretend I don't know, like the wives of all the other men for whom Gillian serves a purpose. However, she was Reg's girlfriend before she became what she is, which makes it a little different. He handles her investments, and now and again she calls him."