The Adventures of Clarissa Hardy

by Chloe Gillis

  Clarissa took a long puff on her cigarette to calm her nerves. She had never been a spy before. She watched as Sir Anderson reached into his trouser pocket and brought forth a rather large, life-like phallus, replete with balls.

  “Oh!” gasped Clarissa, wide eyed.

  “We have heard that the baron is rather playful and likes his toys. This phallus, if you will, is made for that purpose. However, it has a higher purpose. It is made of a special material. All you need do is press the actual key between the testicles, here, like so.” He squeezed the rubbery testicles around his cufflink. “Then, viola, as they say, you have the imprint!” He pried the cufflink from between the balls and revealed the imprint firmly embedded inside. “The French are sometimes more ingenious than we give them credit for.”

  “Oh!” gasped Clarissa again, but she had begun to be very interested. Reaching out, she gently took the apparatus from Sir Anderson and examined it carefully.

  “From there, we will have a reliable tool by which to construct a second key. Are you game?” Sir Anderson took the phallus back, smoothing and pulling it until the impression of his cufflink disappeared.

  Clarissa took a deep breath and gathered her strength. She held her head high and said, clearly, and with a smile, “Why not!”

  “Capital! I shall deposit this weapon, as it were, in a carved box on the library table. You are to take the baron there and carry out your mission.” He started to go, then turned to her. “I say, where are you from in America?”

  Clarissa said, offhandedly, “Why, near Boston. Yes, the Boston area.”

  “Hm,” mused Sir Anderson, looking at her carefully. “You look somewhat familiar. Probably remind me of somebody I once met.”

  “Yes, probably,” reiterated Clarissa, hoping he would not guess who she was.

  She waited for more questions, but he only said, “Good luck to you, then.” He turned abruptly and left.

  Clarissa returned to the dining room.

  “Ah,” said the husky Baron, approaching her rapidly from across the room, “There you are, my little thing! I have been seeking you.”

  “I only stepped out on the balcony for a breath of fresh air,” explained Clarissa.

  “You are a breath of fresh air,” said the baron through his bushy mustache, his eyes crinkling with amusement under his thick eyebrows. “My dear, may I entice you to sit by me at the meal? They are serving it now.”

  “I would enjoy nothing better, sir,” said Clarissa.

  The meal was a delightful repast of, among other things, oysters on the half shell, asparagus, stuffed game hens, plenty of wine, and for dessert, chocolate covered figs. The room was dim, lighted only by the candles. About halfway through the dinner, Clarissa felt the baron’s hand in her lap. She acted as though nothing was happening as he discretely groped about, trying to hike up the hem of her dress. Clarissa could feel his heavy, fat fingers squeezing her thighs through the material. Unobtrusively, as she laughed gaily at something the French ambassador was saying, she opened her thighs just enough for the baron to feel the bare skin above her stocking. It did the trick. She heard his breath shake.

  Turning slightly toward him, but keeping her eyes on the company, she put one foot on the rung of the chair and allowed him access under the frock. She wore no drawers. His fingers reached deeper and Clarissa was surprised at the beating of her heart as she succumbed to the titillating feeling. She could feel the dampness growing between her legs. It had been a long time since she had experienced pleasures of a physical kind. The baron was certainly not somebody she would have chosen for a tryst, but, she reflected ruefully, it was for the good of England. She might as well make the best of it.

  Clarissa leaned over and whispered into the baron’s ear. “Oh, Baron, you make me swoon!”

  Her words seemed to have the required effect. He dabbed at his mustache with his napkin, and whispered back. “Let us retire to a more private area for some champagne, and, ah, conversation.” He then addressed the rest of the company. “My dinner companion is feeling a bit light-headed. If the company will permit, I shall take her into the library while she recovers.”

  The company, of course, spoke up eagerly with remarks of, “Please, enjoy the quiet” and “It is getting late. Perhaps a nap.” Or a “By all means.”

  The baron stood up and bowed to the table. Then he took an unopened bottle of champagne in one hand and Clarissa’s hand in the other and led her out of the room. Clarissa followed the baron down the hall and into the cozy little den. A fire was burning brightly on the grate, the curtains were drawn, and there were two glasses on the low table beside a beautifully carved wooden box.

  “I was made aware that this was a particularly comfortable room and should be quite adaptable to our purposes,” said the baron, as he locked the door and turned to face Clarissa, whose heart was now thumping as she imagined those meaty hands groping her between her legs. She gulped and recovered her resolve.

  “It is a particularly cozy room. Quite romantic, actually,” she said in a low voice as she seated herself on the leather sofa.

  “Allow me to help you to some champagne,” said the baron, and, with a flourish, he popped the cork from the bottle. He poured quite expertly into the glasses and handed Clarissa hers. She lifted it daintily to her lips. The bursting bubbles tickled her nose. “One moment!” commanded the baron. Clarissa lowered her glass as he continued. “Let me propose a toast. To you, my dear, and a brief respite from the constant bombardments of everyday responsibilities!”

  Clarissa smiled coquettishly, and they clinked their crystal together. Clarissa took a large sip of the champagne and found it quite lovely. She finished her shallow glass in two more gulps, being as ladylike as she could manage. She was hoping that the lively liquid would boost her courage.

  “My dear!” exclaimed the baron. “You delight me! You are ready for more so soon!” He filled her glass again. Clarissa took another large sip. The bubbly was beginning to work its magic. Clarissa was starting to feel a bit sassy.

  “There is nothing like champagne, Baron, for igniting the fires of romance!” she said coyly, batting her eyelashes at him over the rim of her glass.

  The baron sat down on the sofa and crept in close to her. Soon his hand was on her thigh and his heavy face was inches from her own. “And do you enjoy romance, my dear?”

  “I do indeed,” replied Clarissa truthfully. “I have always thought that the human body was a thing to enjoy!”

  The baron chuckled softly and slid his hand up under the hem of Clarissa’s beaded dress. “Then I am sure you would not mind removing your frock and allowing me to see this enjoyable thing!”

  “Why not,” said Clarissa gaily. She stood and reached around, unclasping the back of the dress. It dropped softly to the floor around her ankles. She stood before the baron in a short slip of frothy white lace and her rolled and gartered white stockings.

  “Do you like what you see, Baron?” she asked.

  “Indeed, indeed,” answered the baron somewhat huskily. He reached out with both huge hands and caught her round the waist, drawing her to his lap. He kissed her full on the lips, shoving his tongue into her mouth. Surprisingly, Clarissa thought, he did not taste bad. A combination of good cigars and fine champagne. She sucked on his tongue. Finally he pulled away and looked down at her breasts. The nipples were straining against the silken lace. The baron fondled them, pulling and pinching. At last he tipped Clarissa back against one large arm and pushed up her shift with his free hand.

  “Ahh,” he said. “A fine young cunny. May I have a closer look? Spread your legs, my dear.”

  “Oh, Baron,” breathed Clarissa as she opened her thighs. Instantly, the fat fingers were fumbling between her legs, prying and prodding, eager to gain entrance.

  “Lie back across my lap,” ordered the baron, “and spread your legs wide.”

  Clarissa did as she was bidden. The baron spread the folds of her cunt, examining every inch of her. He
took her clit between thumb and forefinger, pinching until she moaned. His fingers at last found her hot opening, and he slid two into her. “You are very wet, my dear.”

  Clarissa gasped, “You are very persuasive, Baron.”

  This seemed to please him very much, and he began to pump his fingers in and out of her, all the while pinching and rubbing her hardened clit with his other hand. Clarissa began to gyrate her hips. She could feel her body flush with the impending climax. Suddenly, the baron pulled out his fingers.

  “Stand up in front of me and turn around,” he ordered. Clarissa was somewhat disappointed with the interruption, but did as he beckoned.

  The baron raised her slip again, baring her buttocks. “A lovely fanny,” he commented. “Lovely round buttocks. Lean forward slightly, my dear. I need to explore you.”

  Clarissa leaned forward. She felt the baron’s hands, one on each buttock, squeezing and kneading. He spread her and ran a finger down the valley between her buttocks, over her tight little bung hole, and once again buried it in her cunt.

  “Lean farther,” he ordered. Clarissa complied. The baron spread the folds of her wet cunt and began to lap and suck at her clit. She gasped as she felt her clit grow more and more engorged. His mustached tickled and pricked her. It was not an unpleasant feeling and she wiggled her bottom into his face. Again, just as she was about to collapse in climax, he stopped.

  “Oh, Baron,” she implored. “You indeed are teasing me!”

  Clarissa stepped away from him. She was remembering her duties. “I should see and explore you now,” she said, holding up her slip and fingering herself lasciviously.

  “I think not, my little minx,” he said, standing. “Not yet, not until I give the order. I am not yet through with my exploration. Now kneel on the sofa, face over the back. Yes, like that. Pull up your slip and bare your ample buttocks. You need to be spanked for your impudence! I give the orders.”

  “Oh, do be gentle,” said Clarissa, her voice shaking.

  The baron stood behind her and began to pinch her bottom. He bent his head, licking her buttocks, and then biting them until Clarissa squealed.

  “Ah,” he said, “you will learn to listen to the baron!” The he smacked her with his open hand. Clarissa felt the sting. She had been spanked before, of course, but this was different.

  The baron began a rhythmic spanking, harder at every blow. Clarissa began to flinch and squirm. Heat spread out from her bottom into her voracious cunt. She longed for his cock in there. In fact, any cock would do. Then she remembered.

  “Baron, please! I beg you, please may I speak?”

  The baron stopped spanking, now soothing her pinkened cheeks with both hands. “What is it?”

  “In the carved box you will perhaps find something you may want to employ for your pleasure.”

  Clarissa looked back over her shoulder and saw the baron, still fully clothed, open the carved wooden box. He took out the large phallus, and a smile spread across his face.

  “Why, you surprise me, my dear! I shall fuck you twice over. First with this rubber cock. It is quite large. We will see how you take it. Lie down on the sofa and spread you legs. There. Wider!”

  Clarissa opened her thighs as wide as she could manage on the sofa. The baron reached back in the box and brought out a small jar. It was filled with oil.

  “Spread your twat for me,” he ordered.

  Clarissa spread the lips of her cunt with her fingers and the baron poured the oil between the folds and into her throbbing orifice. He fingered her well to make sure she was properly prepared. Then he poured oil over the dildo.

  “Pull your legs up and prepare for a rousing fuck,” he chuckled. And without pausing, he quite roughly shoved the dildo into Clarissa. She yelped with the shock, but as he moved it in and out, fucking her faster and faster, while simultaneously pulling and pinching her clit, she felt the heat grow within her. Her hips bucked in rhythm to the fucking and at last, the luscious waves of ecstasy broke over her and she writhed in her climax, gasping and biting her lips. She felt the dildo being pulled from her.

  The baron lowered his head and began to lap her streaming, throbbing cunt, pricking her ruthlessly with his mustache. His fingers were in her again and he was groaning. Clarissa was lost in the waves of her orgasm.

  When she opened her eyes, the baron was standing over her. He had at last freed his own cock. It was huge and turgid and he rubbed it on her face. “Take it in your mouth. Suck me. Make it slippery and hard. Now!”

  Clarissa wrapped her lips around the swollen head and tickled it with her tongue. Then she reached up and took the erect member in her hands, holding on as she sucked and tongued it. The baron moaned and groaned and shoved his cock as far into her mouth as he could. Clarissa sucked hard and squeezed with her hands.

  At last the baron drew back, and gasping, ordered, “Face me! I will enter you now!”

  This was Clarissa’s chance. Instead of obeying the baron, she leaped up, and scooting around him, picking up the dildo from where he had dropped it.

  “Now I say!” he bellowed, holding his cock in his hands.

  “You must do something for me,” said Clarissa, “or I shall run as I am straight out of the room. I want to see your body. I want to see your powerful chest over me as you hammer me with your impressive cock. I shall play with the dildo whilst you fuck me. Perhaps I can take two cocks at once! Come, my Baron, you are not shy, are you?”

  In answer, the baron tore frantically at his coat, flinging it down upon the floor. In the next instant, his white linen shirt followed, and then an undershirt. Now, Clarissa saw the prize. Around his thick neck, the baron wore a heavy gold chain, and nestled in the thick black hair that covered his chest was a gold key, about an inch and a half long.

  The baron struggled with his breeches, finally stepping out them, his enormous cock at attention. “You test me, my dear,” he said ominously. “If you were not so skilled at what you do, I should make short work of you!”

  Clarissa waved the dildo at him and giggled. “Show me, then, Baron. Show me how you would make short work of me!” She placed herself again on the sofa and slid the dildo into her cunt. The baron thundered across the room.

  “Take the phallus out. I will show you a fucking as you have never had!”

  Clarissa laughed and spread her legs. Breathing hard, the baron knelt between her legs. She brushed the dildo across his chest and made fencing moves at his cock. With meaty fingers, the baron spread the lips of her cunt wide and shoved his hard cock into her. Clarissa had to admit to herself it felt good. It was a large cock, hot and rock hard. The baron’s ample stomach rubbed on her own as he ground into her. Then the fucking began. He rode her hard, jarring her to her core, but transporting her at the same time. It took all of Clarissa’s resolve not to give in to the climax that tingled within her. She took the phallus in hand, rubbing it over the baron’s heaving chest. The key flopped like a fish on its chain. Clarissa squeezed the baron’s nipples with both her hands, then unobtrusively spread the testicles of the dildo and tried to catch the key as it flew in time to the baron’s thrusts. Once he climaxed, once he stopped, it would be too late. Clarissa made a desperate smack at the key and pinned it between the balls against the baron’s chest.

  “Oh, Baron,” she cried out, “fuck me! Show me more! I will beat you with the dildo! Your cock is filling me! Oh! Oh!” She rubbed the dildo against him, pressing it with her fingers, manipulating it for the best impression. What with being rocked and jarred, it was hard to accomplish. Suddenly the key was pulled free and the baron collapsed with a loud groan on top of her, his cock pulsing within her. As he recovered his strength, Clarissa reached over to the low table and replaced the phallus in the carved box, hoping she had been successful.

  At last, the baron raised himself from her and withdrew his cock. He laughed and gave her clit a good pinch that made her jump. “I warned you, my dear!” he said, pleased with himself.

  Clarissa
feigned exhaustion. “Oh, my dear Baron. How shall I be with another man! None can compare! You have certainly proved your claims!”

  The baron was pulling up his breeches. He sat on the sofa and pulled Clarissa across his lap. His fingers found her tingling cunt and sought out her turgid clit. He began to work it and rub it, until she gasped and writhed. Quickly, he flipped her over, spanking her buttocks lightly and fucking her with his fingers at the same time. Clarissa could bear it no longer. She gave in to her climax and let it encompass her. Finally, she lay gasping across the baron’s lap.

  He laughed and lifted her to a standing position. “I will ask for you again, my dear,” he said. “I’ve had a very good time. A very good time indeed!”

  The evening was finished. The baron and Clarissa dressed and went into the sitting room. Sir Anderson was there with Lucy, and the French ambassador joined shortly with Abigail. They made pleasant conversation over a nightcap poured by Dutton. Sir Anderson looked at Clarissa. Clarissa nodded, almost imperceptibly. Dutton looked at Sir Anderson, who nodded back at him.

  Sir Anderson said, “Thank you, Dutton. That will be all.”

  Dutton bowed and left the room.

  After the nightcap, Sir Anderson saw the French ambassador and the baron to the door. A car was waiting and whisked them away. Lucy and Abigail left the sitting room with Mrs. Dutton, but Clarissa was bid stay and wait for Sir Anderson. Clarissa sat primly in a wingback chair and waited. Before long, Sir Anderson returned, followed by Dutton who carried the phallus.

  “Bring the instrument here, Dutton,” said Sir Anderson. “Here, hold it under the electric light. My dear, please join us. We shall see whether or not you were successful.”

  Clarissa rose and joined the two men, who peered at the phallus as Dutton held it under the light for inspection. Her heart pounded. She did not want to fail Sir Anderson.

  There, revealed by the piercing light of the electric lamp, was a perfect imprint of the key.

  “By George!” Sir Anderson exclaimed. “I do believe we have it! Yes! Yes, your mission was a success!”