Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
The Saga of a Naughty Lady
by Lizbeth Dusseau
ISBN-13: 978-1-934349-13-7
ISBN-10: 1-934349-13-5
A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication
Copyright © 2000, All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior written permission from the publisher.
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Cover Art by Richard Savage
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Chapter One
“Hummmm, my sweet,” the redheaded wench reached across the sheets feeling that sensuous line from waist to hip—where the fingers get lost as they make their way along the valley to the rise, then drop for a moment to stir a dormant fire—perhaps.
She pulled forward, closer to his back, cradling him with her nakedness.
Such a fine ass! her inner voice exclaimed, as she ran her hand over his hip again and then reached down to tease an erection from his slumbering penis. Morning light through the vine-draped window fluttered against the brocade walls of her boudoir. As the wind outside the window rustled through the arbor of leaves, shadows changed into spaces of pure light then eased back to grey, only to transmute again with another breeze.
She snuggled warm against her lover, noting that his cock had sprung to life, revived by her warm hand and the kisses she placed affectionately on his shoulder.
“Ah, love, you’ve worn me out,” he murmured to her quietly, slowly turning her way.
“You wore me out, fine sir. You should feel my ass, even now it burns.”
He pulled her into his arms; so fair and slight, so delicate, so pure of form—and such a randy, bawdy, bratty bitch. He reached around to squeeze her ass.
“If you hadn’t been such a rebellious slut, I wouldn’t have had to blister it so soundly. You make light of our affair, when any minute it could condemn you.”
“If I had a husband who cared, perhaps so. But he’ll turn the other cheek should he find out. I’m sure he has some paramour making him happier than I ever have.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, milady. I’d err on the side of caution. Your husband is a powerful man. You cannot afford his wrath.” They nuzzled together as though they were singing tender love poems in each other’s ear.
“And I, sir, am a powerful woman,” she purred back to him. “No one can take that from me.” Her legs scissored with his as her crotch ground itself into the firm bulge between his thighs.
“You’re a foolish, foolhardy woman to think that.” His hand was on her breast squeezing the fullness until he could feel her react—face wincing. He let go and she breathed out with a delicious sigh.
He moved his grip back to her ass and squeezed again. “Still sore, you say?”
“Hummm, yes. Shouldn’t it be?”
He sneered at her, his black mustache twitching as he remembered the evening before. The picture of her ass over his legs was priceless for a man who’d dallied with this strumpet’s dangerous shenanigans the last twelve months. Sometimes, it seemed as if she went out of her way to get caught—though he knew that was unlikely. The price she would pay for her adulterous behavior would be too high for this vain beauty. Regardless of her aristocratic birthright, she could not afford to be too reckless—and she knew that, as well as any woman. Fornication outside marriage was nothing to be toyed with. Loss of title? Public humiliation? That would not be in this lady’s repertoire of outrageous fun.
And yet, Prince Tasio often wondered about her careless dance with fate.
When she arrived at their lovenest, she’d taken few pains to disguise herself. Women of her rank did not venture out alone—hardly ever in the light of day, and never in the evening. Yet, she was by herself, cloaked in mink and jewels riding through the streets sidesaddle on her haughty mare, proud as you please. It was no telling how many eyes saw the noble lady, even recognized, Marie Jolie Gabrielle Antoinette.
As soon as she was safely behind the walls of his estate, he’d drawn her over his lap, raised her skirt like a mountain over her head to bare her buttocks, and then spanked her as long and as hard as he could. He reddened her plump cheeks with his hand to start, and because he was so furious with her, he grabbed her hairbrush from her satchel and whaled on her ass and thighs until they were scorched and scarlet. The more she fought him, the more she cried, the more inspired he’d been to continue—little did she know how her wails galvanized his energies to the purpose. She was beside herself with anger and frustration, hissing and spitting at him, legs kicking, arms flailing, all her strength marshaled for the task before he even thought to tell her what her fight did to him.
“You keep this up, I’ll spank you all night!” he finally confessed.
“Nooooooooooo,” she was in tears, but immediately trying to calm.
“That’s better,” he decided as the staccato of smacks to her ass cheeks slowed. When he finally halted, she relaxed, breathed deep, then tried to push herself off his lap.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He had her securely captured with his left arm around her waist. Being such a tiny thing, she hadn’t been hard to keep under control; although by then, he was fairly well exhausted. Thankfully, she was too. “You’re staying right here until I’m finished with you. And you’d better listen carefully to what I say. You hear?”
“Yes,” she snuffed as though she’d been truly hurt. Her bottom was throbbing from the scalding heat.
“Yes, what?” he jumped on her paltry reply.
“Yes, sir.” She snuffed again.
“Much better. You remember that, milady. And you remember that I will end this affair if you’re ever as careless, thoughtless and inconsiderate as you were tonight. Is that clear, Madam?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You risked your life—if not your life, your position, your wealth and your dignity to come here in such a negligent way. Should you get caught, fair lady, I will not defend you. You will be on your own to suffer the consequences of your behavior. I’ve told you this before, I will not tell you again. I worry that you’re headed for catastrophe… and if that happens, I will wash my hands of you. Is that clear?”
“Yes, milord.”
“Very well, then,” he said, as he stood up and pulled the lady to her feet. Despite the serious tone of her punishment, the spanking had made his penis as hard as a rock. He was done with lectures and grim warnings. Tearing at her clothes, he had her naked in minutes, and was chasing her up the stairs to bed where the fornication began and didn’t stop until the very wee hours of the morning when they were too exhausted for more.
“Yes, I’d say your ass should be a bit sore,” Tasio answered her question. “Would you like for me to redden it again. I rather enjoyed the fun.”
“Please no, sir. I think I’ve had enough to teach me the lesson.”
“Hope so. But I can’t say I didn’t like the look of your ass. Pretty sight, it was.”
“There are probably bruises,” she replied.
“Let me check.” He turned her over and inspected the surface of her two cheeks. What had once l
ooked like a claret wine in color was now as fair and pure as cream—with the notable exception of two places—one on each naked cheek where the hairbrush had roughed the surface enough to leave a small red rash.
“Too bad,” he droned. “I would have hoped for more.”
“Yes, I’m sure you would,” she exclaimed haughtily. “And have my husband wondering how I came to have such marks on my behind?”
“Would he have occasion to see your behind, milady?”
She pursed her lips playfully, “I think not. We aren’t getting along at all, which was why I had to come to you last night.”
“And if you’re not in your bed this morning?”
“Milord Gilbere is away from home.”
“I see. And for how long?”
“Just two nights. I should be going home today.”
“And you can explain this absence how?”
“My servants heard my fight with my husband; I told them that I was going to Camilla’s to repair.”
“That excuse should hold. Your cousin is more devious than you are.”
“And isn’t that grand? You and I wouldn’t have met otherwise.”
“That is an event that I often regret.”
“Oh, milord, how can you say that?”
“Easily, Maria Jolie Gabrielle Antoinette, you cause me such trouble.”
She giggled hearing him use her entire given name. He never knew how to address her and would often just pick a name to use for a day, then quit it the next, deciding that Antoinette, or Netty, or Gabby or Jolie would be better. She responded to them all—though she always thought of herself as just plain Jolie.
The sweet redheaded coquette batted her lashes at him and pulled out of bed. “I need to be going.”
“I thought you had most of the day.”
“I do. But I need to show my face at Camilla’s before I return home.”
There was a nasty banging on the door below.
Prince Tasio jumped from bed, grabbed his robe and started toward the bedroom door. Surely, a servant would answer the hail, but not after the first pounding, or the second. This disturbed him. He was just about to enter the hallway when he heard a commotion on the stairs outside the room. Instinct made him pull back, leaving both he and Jolie Gabrielle Antoinette standing with eyes wide and jaws open as several members of the guard burst through the door. Despite the fact that she was stark naked, Jolie’s feet were frozen to the floor as two hefty men went for her arms.
“What call have you to be here!” Prince Tasio cried out.
“Off of me, you brutes!” Jolie shouted.
The guards did not reply, though the Captain strode to face off with the Prince, eyes glaring.
“You should keep your harlots better hidden, or better yet, stick to harlots and stay away from noble whores.”
“I am not a whore!” the furious harpy spouted off as she struggled against the men who held her.
The Captain’s lips turned into a snarl as he waltzed his way to the captured woman. He pawed her chin with his fingers. She spat in his face.
“Ooo, my,” he shook his head. “You’ll have to do more than that to upset me.” Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his cheek.
“Pretty, isn’t she,” he inspected her naked body.
“Please, I need my clothes.”
“Clothes? Not where you’re going.”
“Ah, sir, please, you cannot detain me. I shall call for my husband and all of this will be explained.”
“It was your husband who sent us to arrest you, Maria Jolie Gabrielle Antoinette Gilbere.”
She looked aghast. “No, please say that is not so!”
“You’ve been caught bare-assed, milady,” the Captain snickered. “A fine one too, by the looks of it.” He strained to see between Jolie and the guard at her left, while she tried to dance away from his gaze—an impossible task. The guard pushed her toward him. “Pretty little quim we have here,” he patted the soft hairs on her Venus mound as she jerked away. “I’ll bet you’re still wet from sex.”
“You will not know!”
“Of course, I will,” he snarled moving closer and thrusting one finger deep into the forward cavity. “Ah, yes, you are aroused. How good for us. Will grease the path nicely.” He was about to rip his pants away.
“No, you will not, sir.” She jerked hard against her captors.
Prince Tasio strode forward and laid his hand on the Captain’s arm. “If the lady is under arrest, then you should take her to your jail,” he reminded him.
The two men glared at each other eye to eye, until the Captain finally backed down. “Yes, you are so right. We’ll take her treasure later, in the dark of night, when no one’s there to witness the molestation.” He laughed and whisked himself around. “A robe for the lady—to protect against the chill. We can’t have her freezing that sweet little fanny of hers before she’s convicted of the crime. You, Prince, would be wise to leave the county for awhile—until this one’s been dispensed with.”
“Where will she go?” Tasio asked, out of curiosity.
“That depends on her husband’s disposition. These days, however, adulteresses have been shipped off to the island prison once their public persecution is over—or they’re given away as indentured servants to work off their time.”
“That severe?” he looked as interested as he would a question of the weather.
“There have been a rash of unruly, fornicating wives in the last year. The administrator wants to make an example of women like this one.”
“She does have a powerful position and a powerful husband.”
“That’s exactly what makes her the perfect candidate for the Administrator’s purposes. And with a husband who doesn’t want her…”
“He does want me!” Jolie cried out.
The Captain turned to her. “Oh? I think you’re in for a surprise, milady.”
“I did warn her, just last night,” Tasio added sadly.
“It was too late, then, sir,” the Captain remarked. “And may I suggest that you find your pussy in a more legal manner from now on. There’s talk of prosecuting the men who lead these women into sin.”
“Ah, that will never happen,” Tasio exclaimed. “Not with the randy sorts of escapades going on in the Administrator’s bed.”
The Captain smiled, knowingly. “Talk, yes. But you never know what the more conservative elements of the government might decide in the name of justice. It’s sure, though, that this lady has fucked on her last pair of silk sheets.” He turned to the guards. “Now we must be off.”
“Ah, my sweet, Gabrielle, Antoinette… I am truly sorry, my love. It has been such a pleasure loving you.”
Her tears were real, though there was little sincerity in her lover’s voice. Had this all been for nothing? Where was her heart now?
Chapter Two
“What is this!” the magistrate’s great body swooshed through his chambers with the skirt of his judicial robe whipping like the cloak of death. His imperious eye glared at the accused, inspecting her nose to toes, noting specifically her odd attire.
“She’s been arrested for adultery,” the Captain of the Guards answered. Snapping the heels of his black boots together, he saluted the Judge.
The magistrate looked perplexed. “Have I tried her for any crime?” he wondered.
“No, no yet, sir.”
“Then put her in some clothes,” he scowled darkly as the woman clutched the two sides of the cloak together to cover her nakedness. “You’re premature to discard her garments before the trial. This is shameful.”
“Yes, sir,” the starched officer snapped, as he remained dutifully at attention.
Annoyed, the magistrate grumbled, “Go now!” as he shooed them off.
Grabbing the accused by her makeshift attire, the Captain of the Guards whisked her with him out the door.
Two hours later, the formal proceedings began. Marie Jolie Gabrielle Antoinette stood before the mag
istrate in a court filled with gawking gossip-seekers. There were no seats in the Judge’s chambers—as defendants spent little time before the magistrate under such circumstances. At least now, the accused was properly clothed, and handsomely so. She was beautifully dressed in an emerald gown. The color of her broad satin skirt dappled glimmering in the torchlit room. Her low bodice revealed the white flesh of her bosom as it graciously heaved with every measured, anxious breath she took. A thin film of perspiration covered her skin, which only made her look more gloriously seductive to the eye of a lecherous man. Her lips were dabbed with pink, her cheeks pinched and flushed, and her incorrigible green eyes sparked with a flirtatious luster, as though she had plans to woo the Judge.
He was impressed; but grumbling under his thick beard.
“The accused’s name?”
“Marie Jolie Gabrielle Antoinette Gilbere,” the bailiff announced.
“And her crime?”
“Adultery.”
The man stared out at the crowded room. “What’s happened here? Has this province run amok? Are there no true and honest women anymore?” He waited for an answer, as if someone was supposed to reply.
“I couldn’t say, sir,” the gawky prosecutor finally spoke up.
“And you, woman! What have you to say for yourself?”
“I’d beg some mercy from the court and a conference with my husband,” Jolie replied, in a genuine effort to sound sincere, even contrite.
“Is the husband here?” the magistrate searched the room, finally seeing a man of obvious wealth step from between two guards.
“Gilbere? That you?” the Judge squinted to see the aging, but dapper looking gentleman. His waistcoat was of the finest cloth, his necktie silk, and his manicured hands ringed in gold. He had a courteous bearing, though a little severe, and an eye that could not look at his wife with anything but complete contempt.
“Yes, sir, it is Antonious Gilbere.”
“It is your wife who stands accused? What do you say to that?”
Jolie looked back longingly at her husband, finding nothing but a cold stare as she sought his mercy. “That she be delivered to this court for trial as an example of the rampant unfaithfulness that plagues this region,” the stern husband replied.
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