Fate's Victim

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Fate's Victim Page 5

by Roxane Beaufort


  Angela felt extremely embarrassed and awkward, nothing but the poor relation now, only there on sufferance. Aidan was not making it easy for her either, outwardly polite but looking at her in a strange, calculating manner. To her astonishment he had invited Maude to join them, and there had been a subtle shift in dynamics. She seemed different. Any suggestion of servility had gone, and she met Aidan’s eye boldly as he said, ‘Well, Maude, here’s a to-do. Matters have gone apace quicker than we expected, eh?’

  ‘Indeed they have, sir,’ she answered, seated on one of the dainty Chippendale chairs, as cool and collected as a duchess, little finger extended as she lifted her cup to her lips.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Angela demanded, uneasily aware of undercurrents that baffled her. ‘You are my companion…’

  ‘I was your companion,’ Maude corrected, and helped herself to an iced fancy from the filigree cake stand. ‘And happy to be so, until I met his lordship.’

  ‘Aidan, what does she mean?’ Angela could feel every vestige of colour draining from her face. She felt sick, bombarded on each side by ghastly revelations.

  He was relaxed and at ease in a deeply upholstered winged chair. He smiled at the two women in his mocking way, and it was as if he was enjoying the situation. ‘My dear, Maude and I have become close. It was necessary to do so, for she was your guard in my absence, and I wanted daily reports on your actions… who you had been seeing… what you had been saying. I needed to ensure that you came to the nuptial bed a virgin.’

  ‘It was my pleasure,’ Maude explained, and she beamed across at him. ‘Lord Aidan is that rare individual… a man who understands women’s needs.’

  ‘But you were more like a friend than a servant, or so I thought,’ Angela said, horrified by yet another betrayal of trust. ‘How could you have behaved thus?’

  ‘Lord Aidan can be very persuasive,’ Maude said, smiling smugly. ‘I was to remain in my position when you became his wife.’

  ‘A spy? How despicable!’ Angela cried, hardly able to bear looking at her.

  ‘Not at all. Merely a faithful companion,’ Aidan corrected.

  ‘But that isn’t going to happen now, is it? You have no intention of marrying me. What, then, do you see happening to me in the future, and where does Maude fit in?’

  ‘As I told Doynton, I will not abandon you. Wife you may not be but mistress and slave you certainly shall.’

  Angela leapt to her feet, eyes flashing, even her hair seeming to spark with indignation. ‘Never!’ she stormed, palm itching to smack his sneering face. ‘I’ll not submit to you and perform those acts that you have already tried to force on me.’

  He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Tut, tut! Such a show of temper! She needs a lesson in manners, don’t you think, Maude?’

  ‘As you say, master,’ Maude answered, and Angela was all too aware of the title she had given him.

  Had she, too, experienced the kiss of the lash wielded by his hand and known the delirious joy of him caressing her most intimate places? The thought made her want to gag, as did the idea that all the time the wretched woman had been pretending to be a prim and proper chaperone. Angela’s first taste of perfidy came as a dreadful shock. She could hardly believe the evidence of her own eyes and ears.

  Maude had changed visibly, too. Her hat was tilted forward at a rakish angle, and there was a trace of rouge on her cheekbones and lips. She was in mourning black, but though her bodice had a high neck it outlined her figure. Her waist was tightly corseted, accentuating her breasts, and her hips were made more pronounced by the skirt swept into a bustle at the back. And as she crossed her knees, glancing at Aidan provocatively, Angela caught a glimpse of stylish buttoned boots with high heels. Fine feathers indeed, for a companion! But then she wasn’t, was she? Not any more – not at all – even in the past. She had been spying for Aidan. And what, Angela wondered, had she received as a reward?

  She was not left in ignorance for much longer. Aidan beckoned Maude across and she draped herself on his lap, her hand plunging down to cup the bulge between his legs. ‘I think, my dear,’ he said softly, ‘that Angela needs training. And you are the person to do it.’

  ‘Why not Valerie?’ Maude asked, a trifle petulantly. ‘I thought you considered her to be the perfect dominatrix.’

  ‘She is,’ he agreed, and lay back further in the chair while she slipped to the carpet between his knees and started to unbutton his trousers. ‘But there’s no time like the present, and she should start her lessons now. Watch closely, Angela. See how Maude handles my prick so cleverly… but then you were once a member of the oldest profession in the world, weren’t you, Maude?’

  ‘That’s right, my lord. I was a whore.’

  ‘Then how did you join my father’s household?’ Angela demanded, though terrified of the answer.

  Maude looked over at her coolly, then wetted Aidan’s cock with saliva before answering, smoothing it over the fiery helm that became redder and harder. ‘I heard he was seeking a respectable lady to guide you through the pitfalls of “coming out” and as a very necessary duenna, even after you were engaged to be married. I needed to leave London for a while. I’d been somewhat extravagant and my dressmaker was becoming boringly pressing with regard to my bill. A mutual acquaintance introduced me to Sir Barnaby and he gave me the job.’

  ‘And when you met Lord Aidan, what happened then?’ Angela whispered, revolted by yet envying Maude’s actions as she straddled his lap, her skirts riding up to display shapely black-stockinged legs supported by suspenders attached to her corset. She wasn’t wearing drawers, but had retained her fashionable hat with its osprey and frothy veiling. This added to her lewd appearance.

  ‘Ah yes, well, he stuck his prick in me and I loved it,’ Maude said huskily, raising her hips a little and angling her pelvis so that her wet, hair-fringed crack hovered just above the tip of Aidan’s glans.

  He grunted, pulled her over him and fastened his teeth on one bared nipple. She held her breath and he bit harder till a bright drop of blood glinted on his lips. Maude took his erect penis in her hand and guided it between her thighs, then slowly, languorously, lowered herself onto it till it disappeared from sight, lost in the seductive darkness of her body. She sat back with a long-drawn sigh and started to rock gently, finding the pink pearl of her swollen clitoris and playing with it.

  Angela’s own bud ached with want, and her hand dipped and found its way unerringly under her sombre skirt, parting her linen knickers and landing on her own overheated seat of sensation. She followed Maude’s action; rubbing her nubbin from side to side, then up and down, circling it, wetting it from the copious dew seeping from her virgin slit, then frigging it hard. And all the while she wished that Aidan’s mighty weapon was sheathed within her, jealous of the savage lunges he was making, envious of Maude’s groans and the speed with which she was bringing herself to climax.

  The coupling pair made a fascinating tableau; she so confident of her charms and that beautiful man as strong as a sword, and with the same ruthless cutting edge. Until today he was to have been Angela’s husband, her mate for all time, her lord and master. Her heart bled because this was no longer possible. He was so handsome, fulfilling her every dream of a desirable hero. His head was flung back, his black hair brushed from his brow and curling at the nape of his neck. He had divested himself of his dark jacket and his shirt was open over his muscular, hirsute chest, his tight trousers gaping, exposing his hairy lower belly, though she could no longer see his cock, buried as it was in Maude’s cleft.

  ‘It’s not fair!’ Angela cried, without realising she had spoken aloud. ‘I’ve lost him! Oh, father, why did you do this to me?’

  The fornicators ignored her, too engrossed in their pleasure, and she was borne along on their frenzy. Nothing mattered but the achievement of ecstasy. Angela rubbed and rubbed, her finger flying over her clit, and all the while her eyes were fixed on the sweating, straining couple. So this was what sex
ual congress looked like. The mysterious veil had been torn asunder and her curiosity was almost, but not quite, satisfied. One thing remained: the loss of her maidenhead and the feeling of being well and truly shafted by a man’s enormous cock.

  Maude was panting. So was Aidan. His hands gripped her buttocks tightly, pumping her up and down. She started to moan loudly, and then this became a prolonged wail like a cat on heat. She clutched herself, shuddered from head to foot, gave a savage yelp and flopped forward. Aidan barked his pleasure, jerked once, twice, thrice, as he spent himself deep inside her.

  This was all Angela needed to drive her over the edge of bliss. The orgasm was so powerful that it was as if she was sharing in theirs as well as enjoying her own. In the seconds’ silence that followed she opened her eyes and saw Aidan staring at her. She was frightened by what she read in his glinting black pupils – cruelty, dominance, overweening pride and a fathomless abyss of lust.

  He moved, tumbling Maude from his lap, seizing a handful of her skirt and wiping his penis on it. In a trice he was buttoned up and respectable again. It was as if nothing had happened. Maude took her cue from him, adjusting her attire and straightening her hat. Now they looked normal, two practiced dissemblers well versed in the art of disguise.

  Angela attempted to follow suit, but she was flustered, not only by what she had just witnessed but because of her own reaction to it. A new emotion had been added to her list – she was now plagued by unmanageable passions.

  ‘You wanted to join in with us,’ Aidan said, matter-of-factly. ‘It’s down to you, my dear. Or rather it is down to me and my inclinations at any given moment. I will house you, clothe and feed you, and in return you will take lessons with Mrs Gail, become my hostess, entertain selected friends in any way I see fit. Maude and Bertha will continue to look after you. Do you agree?’

  Angela stood before him with her chin high and rebellion in her eyes. ‘This isn’t what you told Mr Doynton,’ she challenged. ‘You said I should be found honest work.’

  He threw himself back in the chair, smiling crookedly as he regarded her, and then drawing out his pocket watch on its gold chain and consulting the face. ‘Doynton seemed perfectly satisfied with the arrangement. If anything, he was relieved to be no longer responsible for your welfare,’ he said lightly, then stood up and shrugged his shoulders into his jacket. ‘I have pressing business. Maude, take Angela to her room and begin her instruction. She’s still a virgin, and shall stay that way for the moment. Her fundament is tight. Stretch it. I expect to be able to enjoy her arse in the not too distant future.’

  Angela took flight, hurling herself at the door and tugging at the handle. ‘You can’t force me to stay! Let me go… at once!’

  Aidan paced towards her, reached out and gripped her under the elbow. He drew her towards him and she was all too conscious of his nearness, her heart thudding like a drum, making her breasts shake. ‘And where will you go?’ he asked smoothly.

  ‘Anywhere but here,’ she panted, tugging at her arm.

  ‘You have no money,’ he reminded. ‘No servants, no means of transport, no friends… only myself.’

  ‘Then behave honourably. Do as you promised. Take me to London and introduce me to Mrs Gail. Surely you can do that much in memory of my father, and of what you and I might have meant to one another?’

  He gave her a strange look and once again she was all too conscious of the power and persuasiveness of his eyes. ‘You must promise me that you won’t do anything foolish, like running away,’ he began.

  ‘I swear it,’ she answered. ‘I will do exactly as you tell me, be ready for London tomorrow and look forward to meeting Mrs Gail. You surely wouldn’t force yourself on me, would you?’

  ‘Force?’ he said with his sinister smile. ‘How dramatic. Very well then, let us strike a bargain, you and I. Maude will take you to your room. You will join us for dinner later, and I promise you won’t be molested in any way. In return you will listen to Mrs Gail and I guarantee that one day, in the not too distant future, you will find that “force”, as you put it, can be a very pleasant adjunct to pleasure. Are we agreed?’

  ‘Yes, Aidan, and I’m very confident that I shall never, never agree to your terms… no matter what.’

  There’s nothing more beautiful and desirable than young male flesh, Valerie decided, stretching voluptuously among the tangled coverlets and duck-down pillows of her massive four-poster bed. She was of statuesque build, with big breasts and wide hips, the archetypal late-Victorian ideal of womanhood.

  ‘Young man… lovely young man,’ she whispered, her crimson lips pouting, her agile tongue licking over them, leaving a shiny trail of spittle.

  ‘Valerie, mistress, goddess,’ he replied, his body that of a Greek deity, his brown curls falling wildly over his smooth brow, his cock springing to attention, as it always did when exposed to her gorgeous white flesh.

  ‘Am I your goddess, Julian, really, truly?’ she insisted, teasing him, her nimble fingers working their magic on his trembling penis. It wept milky tears as if imploring her to take it into her fragrant delta. Instead she formed a tunnel of her magnificent, coral-tipped breasts and inserted his eager weapon, moving her torso up and down, driving him to distraction. He gasped and covered her hands with his, holding each globe close to his swollen, scarlet shaft. He watched the helm appearing then disappearing, and his movements became more uncontrolled. She knew precisely what he wanted but was inclined to torment him a little.

  No matter how often she brought him to climax, within a few moments of spurting he was ready to start all over again. That was the advantage of youth and vigour and an insatiable appetite. Older men lost it more easily unless, like Aidan Driscol, they were exceptional, and even he could no longer sustain an erection for hours as he had once done.

  ‘You know I adore you,’ Julian insisted, rubbing against her harder. She was delighted with his progress. He had changed dramatically from the naïve lad whom she had first brought into her bed, the youngest son of a female friend who had asked her to initiate him into carnal pleasures. ‘These past months, they have been a revelation,’ he gasped, ‘and meeting you, the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me.’

  He gave a strangled cry and bathed her naked breasts with his emission, long jets pumping from his cock-head. Valerie changed quixotically. In an instant she was bored. Julian was just too perfect and predictable. She missed Aidan with his black moods and evil temper and, above all, his sinful knowledge of how to make her walk the wafer thin line between agony and extreme pleasure. She pushed Julian away, massaged his spunk into her breasts as if it was some expensive beauty cream, then tugged at the thin gold chain that linked the rings in his wine-red nipples, making him squirm.

  For a moment she toyed with the notion of having him bend over her, open her legs wide and apply his tongue to the folds of her labial wings and the tight bud of her clit. He’d do it, she knew, and this willingness amused yet irritated her. They had spent the entire night together and at first it was fun. She brought him home from dinner at the Ritz followed by a performance at the Gaiety Theatre. The roads had been jammed with private carriages, hackney-cabs and those new-fangled, noisy motorcars, that she so hankered after and was determined to purchase.

  Valerie had been promising herself another sample of Julian’s nubile body for some time, waiting for the right opportunity. Her elderly husband, the Honourable Dennis Gail, was in Monte Carlo with a couple of his fat mistresses who, like him, were addicted to the gaming tables, and she was spending the season in their splendid house in Chelsea. This was a much sought-after area that besides being extremely fashionable, had the added piquancy of harbouring several well-known artists, sculptors, writers and musicians, giving it an excitingly cosmopolitan ambience. It reminded her of Paris, a city of which she heartily approved.

  Her maid, Viola, had already been in to pull aside the curtains and lay out coffee-cups, plates and a rack of toast. Employed by Valerie for s
everal years she was absolutely trustworthy. Loyal servants were essential if one was to continue the outrageous lifestyle that Valerie favoured. She paid her generously and reaped the rewards.

  Fired by an imp of perversity she beckoned her closer, whipped back the richly embroidered coverlet and exposed Julian in all his perfection. He did not bat an eyelid, staring up at the two women with a smug smile curving his ruby lips, sprawled at his ease, partly propped up by Valerie. His legs were slackly parted and the ribald surprise of his large blush-red balls and long cock nestled amongst his dark pubic curls made a mockery of his tender years. He had the genitals of a mature man, obscenely developed in contrast to his slender figure, graceful mien and noble aspect that resembled a Renaissance painter’s vision of an Eros, or a boy David, or a young warrior.

  It was too much for Valerie. She dipped down and sucked his penis. It started to lift again and his testicles tightened. Viola watched, hands on her black uniformed hips, a gleam in her eye, her breath quickening. She was accustomed to taking her pleasure among the servants, tradesmen, grooms and whoever took her fancy below stairs, the younger the better, it seemed. She was never backwards in coming forwards when it came to educating boys. Valerie and she agreed on this point, and sometimes shared the spoils. Gentlemen thought it their right to drool over pretty girls, but it was not considered proper for women to feel the same desires for youths. A male fable that all proper females knew to be absolute nonsense.

  ‘He’s pretty, my lady,’ Viola whispered.

  ‘You’ve seen him before.’

  ‘Oh yes, and I thought so then and I think so now. Lady Jane’s boy, isn’t he? Well, well, ain’t he growing into something? Never seen such a handsome prick,’ and Viola swept up a basket of rose petals that lay on the nightstand and scattered them over and around Julian’s parts.

  The action of that light pattering of dried leaves caused his oversensitive member to stir again. It poked through the flower covering, cheekily demanding attention. Valerie leaned over and nibbled his neck where the light sprinkling of fluff had not yet been touched by the razor. Julian chuckled and exposed his throat to her teeth, just as if he was the willing victim of a vampire. It was a most erotic gesture and Valerie bit deeper. His cock was huge now and Viola seized it in her hand, running her fingers up and down the pulsing stem while jiggling his balls and tickling his anus, the crimson petals falling between his legs, leaving him fully exposed.

 

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