by Leia Rice
“And as I was coming back, there was a man.” Arabelle paused here as the three women leaned forward all together.
“A man, Arabelle?” Marie asked and clasped her hands together in front of her sumptuous breasts, which were unfairly bound within her tight corset. “I heard that there were spies within the walls, trying to find more information about the royal family. The guards have been patrolling the passages to make sure there aren’t any trespassers.” Marie leaned forward then and excitedly whispered, “Do you think it was a spy?”
“Or maybe he was a guard!” Annie chirped in a conspiring way.
“Yes. A man. The queen’s consort, I do believe, but perhaps he could have been a spy.” Arabelle grinned, and her face lit up with the radiant flush that glowed on her flawless cheeks. She could not help but jump right ahead in the story and nearly spilled all of the details out in one never-ending sentence. “Consort, guard or spy, he pushed me up against the wall, pulled at my dress, spread my legs and had me right there! It was so glorious, girls. I’ve never felt the way that he’s made me feel!”
As she spoke the words, she pulled her petticoat back to expose the tear in her dress. One of Arabelle’s dark nipples could be seen where the fabric had been torn, and Arabelle moved herself purposely so that it rubbed against the shredded threading. Christine, Marie and the younger of the three, Annie, all gasped in surprise and blushed accordingly at seeing the state of the dress. Arabelle watched as Christine paid extra attention to her hardening nipples, and smiled sweetly to the group of dedicated listeners.
Pushing herself up, Arabelle sat in a proper chair, situating herself slightly above the three girls who milled about at her feet like eager puppies wanting attention. “And he came inside of me. I could feel it all. So warm, so…much. I did not even bother to wash myself. His sticky come still lingers on my thighs. When I move, I think of him back between my legs…” As she spoke, Arabelle put a hand over her skirt where her thigh rested just under. “I do wish he’d have me again. That he’d fill me over and over. I’ve never had anything like it.”
Christine daringly leaned forward and put her hand under Arabelle’s dress, letting it travel up her leg and to the place where both the warmth of Arabelle’s pussy and the slick, discharge of the queen’s consort could be felt. Arabelle shuddered with the touch, but didn’t dare stop Christine from touching her. Instead, the principal maid spread her legs a little farther, inviting her fingers to linger and take more.
Christine pulled her fingers back and held them up to the light. Arabelle and the other two maids looked at the glistening wetness as Christine pressed her fingers to her lips, curiously tasting what was left of Arabelle’s union. “He tastes good, that much I know.” Christine mused with a dangerous smile.
“I want to taste it, too!” Marie half whined, then pushed up Arabelle’s skirts, burying her face somewhere under the fabric. Arabelle soon felt the maid’s gentle tongue slide up the inside of her thigh, following the lines left from the trickling juices. Arabelle’s head lolled back against the chair in pleasure and she spread her thighs a little more, pressing her hips down to try and get her cunt to brush the other woman’s thick lips, the very lips she fantasized about.
Annie watched the display and hungrily met Arabelle’s stare as she brought her head back up. “How did his cock feel? Was it big?” Annie asked and put her hand in between her own legs.
Arabelle looked on as Annie began to rock her hips back and forth, and although she could not see because of Annie’s skirts, Arabelle could tell from the rocking that the younger woman had filled herself with her fingers. “It was so big. I could feel it pushing my insides every time he pumped into me. It was just like all of the stories we—” a moan caught in Arabelle’s throat as Marie pushed her lips over her clitoris and began to suckle “—we…we were told.”
Christine finished licking her fingers, then crawled over to push Marie’s skirts up over her hips, exposing the soft, red downy curls of the woman’s mound. Marie had crimson locks that every woman could easily be jealous of. She often wore them pinned up, and tied with golden ribbons, like a Roman empress, despite the current trend of powder coiffures. Christine pushed two fingers inside of Marie’s eager cunt, which inspired Marie to suck harder at Arabelle in return.
The heat rose back into Arabelle’s cheeks as her third orgasm of the day started to build. She gripped the side of her chair and kept her eyes on Annie, who was furiously rubbing at her pussy now. “That’s it, Annie, fuck yourself for me.” Arabelle commanded much like the stranger had commanded her to come. With the queen absent, Arabelle was queen to these girls, who obeyed her every command and desire.
Annie’s lips parted and her back arched forward as she came over her own fingers. She moaned loudly, which prompted Arabelle to come soon after. Her pussy’s juices gushed into Marie’s mouth, and Marie lapped it all up, unwilling to let a drop of it go to waste.
Christine pumped her fingers into Marie with a new urgency, and since Annie saw that no one had bothered to pleasure Christine, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around the woman’s waist, eventually bringing her fingers down between Christine’s legs. All at once, Marie and Christine came together, and their moans and gasps of pleasure filled the quiet hallway, which was only occupied by the maids in the neighboring room.
The four spent girls all collapsed on the floor, lying head to foot in a lazy circle with each other. Arabelle smiled at the group and rolled over on her back, ready to go back to daydreaming about the stranger’s hard cock back inside of her.
“But Arabelle,” Christine warned sumptuously, “if he is a spy, you need to mind yourself. It could be very dangerous. You could lose your head!”
“Even so,” Arabelle mused, enticed even more by the danger, “I do hope he comes for me again.”
A month passed since Arabelle shared her encounter with the other maids. The weeks had been long and agonizing on the young woman, who found herself looking over her shoulder at every turn, hoping that she could catch a glimpse of the man who took her. There were days when the stranger would visit with the queen, and Arabelle would be reduced to watching behind the curtains as he tickled and caressed Her Majesty.
Arabelle became more jealous now than she was before. When the man would stroke the queen with his powerful fingers, Arabelle would put her fingers down to her skirts and try desperately to remember what it felt like when he touched her. When the queen moaned, Arabelle moaned into her fist as she bit down into her skin to try and keep herself quiet. When the couple would come, always in unison, Arabelle would nearly buckle and fall to the floor as she came, as well. The queen’s meeting with the man exhausted Arabelle more than it probably exhausted the queen herself.
She wanted him. She wanted this lover who was exclusive to the queen. She wanted him to have her over and over again while he called her his “petite mademoiselle” and spoke to her in the same gruff tones that he used with the queen. But she hadn’t an idea of who this man was, and he had not tried to seek Arabelle out since their previous serendipitous encounter.
And yet, when the consort left, Arabelle could swear that he would look directly at her from where she hid behind curtains of sheer, luxurious and overpriced fabrics. She could feel his piercing gaze bore into her aching soul, and her breath would catch in her throat. How did he know she was watching him? How did he know the way between the palace walls? Her hiding places? Before Arabelle could think of any logical answers, he would be gone.
This day, the queen was late coming back to her chambers. She had gotten caught up in politics and nobility, along with her husband. While the stranger paced back and forth in the secret hall behind the queen’s bedchambers, Arabelle was being summoned to go to him by a giggling and conspiring Christine and Marie.
“He is back there, I swear it. Is this not the night that she usually has him over for tea and sweets?” Marie asked as she pulled on Arabelle’s hands, urging her over to the wardrobes so that
they could find something appropriately seductive for her to wear.
“Yes, but,” Arabelle stammered, though she knew not why she was so hesitant. This was what she was longing for. His cock back in her at last! This was what she thought of in the darkest hours of the night when she would rub her clitoris almost raw, coming over and over again!
Christine pulled a rather daring dress over Arabelle’s bodice and tied everything in place. Her breasts were pushed up almost inappropriately so, and her skirt was thin, made from luxurious Grabbing silk from the East. With powder and a brand-new, modest wig, Marie carefully coiffed Arabelle’s hair up into one of the newest styles. After pinning a lovely hairpin with whole pearls into her hair, the principal maid glittered in the warm glow of the night lanterns.
“Hurry, hurry. We will take you there. And we’ll be just around the way…just in case you need us.” Christine winked at the words since Arabelle knew that the two would be watching her every move and listening to her every moan with the consort. Before she could protest, the two took Arabelle by the arms and ushered her into the dark, secret halls of Versailles.
Everything was quiet, save for the distant sounds of a steady pacing. Marie giggled then admonished herself by putting her hands over her mouth. It was too late, though. They had been heard. Arabelle put her arm out, stopping the two behind her, and they all stood still, breathing hard. Perhaps, if they did not move, they would not be found, or at least, that was Arabelle’s reasoning. But oh, how she wished to be found!
From around the corner, a shadowy figured appeared. Marie gasped somewhere behind Arabelle, which earned a firm squeeze to the woman’s arm. “Is it him?” Christine asked as she peeked around Arabelle’s stunning form. Even in the darkness, she glimmered with the dew that clung to the stone walls.
“Ma petite mademoiselle?” A husky voice echoed through the secret hall and hit Arabelle with the same driving force that he originally took her with. Her knees weakened and she held on to Christine for support.
The man stepped into a shaft of light that somehow snaked itself between the delicate cracks of the palace walls from some other room. This was the man. The queen’s consort. He was beautiful! He looked of the things from the stories that Arabelle heard about the soldiers who have gone off to fight in the New World to overthrow the English king. He looked exactly how she pictured him in her fantasies. He was young, brawny and thick, like a hardy stallion. His hair was a beautiful chestnut-brown and was pulled back into modest ponytail at the base of his neck. And his hands…his large hands…
“You are even prettier from the front,” he whispered as he closed the space between them and reached to caress her fair cheek with the hands Arabelle so loved. It was at this moment he caught sight of the two other maids, who stood behind Arabelle in an almost cowardly, shy and timid way. “And what do we have here?”
“My friends, monsieur. Chrstine and Marie.” Arabelle’s fingers closed around the stranger’s forearm. “And I am Arabelle.”
“Arabelle.” He repeated her name, encouraging Arabelle’s pussy to grow wetter. She wondered if he could smell her desire the way she could.
“And your name, monsieur?” Marie piped up in a giggle from somewhere behind Arabelle, who was relieved, since she would have otherwise stupidly forgotten to ask.
The man hesitated. Arabelle boldly slid her hand off of his forearm and down to the laces on his trousers. She deftly began to untie the thick, leather thongs, pulling them one by one so that his codpiece was eventually freed. “François.”
Christine and Marie both echoed his name in a swoon, “François.”
“I’ve told my friends about you, Monsieur François. I told them how…fulfilling you were when you stole my virginity and left me longing for more.” Arabelle’s hand slipped into his trousers and around his cock, which was already hard and pressing against its confines. Her touch made François draw in an eager breath.
Like a little girl, Marie clapped her hands together and tried to peek over Arabelle’s shoulder, “Oh, I want to see it, too!” One of Marie’s hands unabashedly snaked down Arabelle’s arm and into the consort’s pants, as well. Arabelle felt Marie bite into her shoulder as she dreamily confirmed against the fabric of her dress, “Oh, it is just how I imagined it to be.”
Arabelle’s gaze flickered up to François and she leaned forward to put her mouth onto his. In return, François greedily forced his tongue past her lips as he pushed his hips forward with a grunt.
Christine moved around Arabelle and carefully pulled down François’s leggings and trousers, freeing his cock as it bounced in front of him and stood at attention. Arabelle could feel it hot against her skirts, which she wore less of today.
François put his large hands around Arabelle and pressed them against the small of her back, drawing him closer to her. “Christine, Marie,” he commanded as he ground his cock against Arabelle, “put me in your mouths.”
Arabelle was jealous. She was the one who was supposed to have him tonight, not them. They were just her escort! But as François began to kiss her again, the jealousy was soon forgotten. She stepped back just slightly so that the other two women had enough room to kneel down in front of François and take his aching cock into their mouths.
Grabbing François’s hand, Arabelle pulled it to her, and without further encouragement, the consort roughly pulled her corset down, freeing her petite, full breasts all at once. “Ah, my Arabelle. I want to taste every part of…you.” His words caught in his throat, prompting Arabelle to look down and watch as Marie and Christine took turns pushing their mouths over his prick. Christine hand her hand cupped around his balls and firmly groped them, pulled them, then slipped down to suck them, as well.
With a shudder, François exploded into their mouths, spilling his seed over their faces and down their throats. The girls both moaned and asked greedily asked for more, but François rudely pushed by where they both knelt and pressed Arabelle against the wall. This time, he faced her as he hiked up her skirts and fell to his own knees, burying his nose and mouth into Arabelle’s cunt.
“Mmm, mmm,” Arabelle moaned and fought against the urge to come immediately. He nuzzled her soft pubic hair, and when he came up for air, her juices glistened on his chin. After tasting her for a good few minutes, François urged Arabelle down to the stony ground. The discomfort was nothing compared to the feeling of his fingers on her thighs, her stomach, her breasts. He touched her body all over, and Arabelle moaned louder and louder in response.
Christine and Marie, who had gone without coming, crawled over to where the other two were currently on the floor. Marie reached between François’s legs again and urged him, “Get hard for her, monsieur, get hard for her.” Her fingers wrapped around his engorged cock, which once again pulsed with desire, but still needed some help. Marie started to rub him off with a persistent rhythm that soon made the consort hard once more.
Christine leaned down to kiss Arabelle, sharing the taste of François’s come. It drove Arabelle crazy, and she pulled Christine down and muttered, “Let me taste you.”
At the request, Christine positioned herself so that her pussy was over Arabelle’s face and Arabelle grabbed Christine’s hips and pulled her down, burying her nose up against the other woman’s clit. Christine cried out and immediately started to grind her cunt against Arabelle’s tongue, which sought out all of the sweet places between her friend’s thighs.
“Yes, ladies. Yes,” François panted, then reached down, pushing Marie’s hand away from his cock, freeing him up so he could lean forward and plunge mercilessly into Arabelle’s begging pussy. Despite the tight fit, François offered no respite or time for Arabelle to adjust around his girth. He anchored himself by reaching forward to hold on to Arabelle’s full tits.
The sudden entrance caused Arabelle to scream out in pleasure, which in turn vibrated against Christine’s pussy. Christine’s grinding became increasingly more frantic until, with some urging of Marie, who was now se
ated beside Arabelle’s face, she came, and came hard.
François laughed. “What a lucky man am I to have three beautiful ladies!” He pulled out of Arabelle, leaving her empty and desirous. “Turn over, all of you. On your hands and knees, asses towards me.”
Arabelle whimpered, since moving her legs meant that she had to rub them together. She was dangerously close to her climax, so she took care to flip over onto her hands and knees. Christine, who was still panting from her own orgasm, and Marie, who was still desperate to come, both knelt beside Arabelle, all of their asses lined up in a row.
Without warning, François first plunged into Arabelle and pumped fiercely a few times. Then, he pulled out, and with his cock sticky with Arabelle’s juices, he pushed it hard into Marie, who shouted loudly, painfully.
“Ah-ha! Another virgin, I see!” François declared in a groan as he smacked his hand down on Marie’s firm ass.
Marie nodded her head with a whimper, but pushed her hips back to try and fill herself more. It was a brave move, considering just how big François’s dick actually was. Before she could have the pleasure of having him in her for too long, François removed his manhood from Marie and plunged it into Christine.
Each girl was equally fucked and pumped and rammed. Arabelle could tell from François’s breathing that he was reaching his orgasm too soon, and after a round of the three, he pulled out and leaned down to put his mouth to each of their eager pussies instead. He used his finger to pump where he was no longer pumping with his cock. It was in this way that he made Christine and Marie come for him. They both fell to the floor in exhausted, exasperated heaps, with their bottoms still up in the air. François took care to lick the juices off their thighs and up their asses before withdrawing from the two all together.
As Christine and Marie watched, François returned to Arabelle, his favorite, and started to fuck her relentlessly once more. Arabelle’s breasts bounced with each stroke, and her cries were uninhibited and loud. “Oh, yes. Yes, Arabelle. My Arabelle! Fuck my cock. Fuck my cock!”