‘Poor little Henry,’ she said when she had taken a refreshing sip. ‘So manly, and so helpless, and look at that big, hairy thing, so hard and so fierce. It is lucky he can’t get up, isn’t it, girls? Or he would surely mount us all. Ah, but he would like that, wouldn’t he? The great brute would enjoy us kneeling, I think, three pretty bottoms all bare for his attention, all round and naked for his amusement. Tickle his balls, Peggy, but don’t let him come.’
Peggy obeyed, rocking forward to touch the taut sac of Henry’s scrotum. Eloise laughed again as his cock jerked in response to the girl’s touch. Her climax had taken the edge off the burning need for revenge that she had felt for nearly three months, but she was enjoying Henry’s plight immensely, especially because of his all too plain state of sexual arousal. Intent on taking her time, she sat back and took another sip of wine.
‘So,’ she said, ‘how do we progress? The pleasure you took in my body, I think we may regard as paid for. Which leaves only matters of my pain and indignity and, of course, your servant. Let us deal with that first. Peggy, take his gag out.’
Peggy Wray rose from her seat on Henry’s face. Her emotions were mixed. Eloise had taken her from debtor’s jail, a hell from which she had had no prospect of release. Her resultant feelings of loyalty were intense and, to her, Eloise’s word was law. She knew that she had been chosen for her looks and because she spoke French, yet the fact remained that, without Eloise’s assistance, her future would have been bleak indeed. On the other hand, Henry had treated her with a cheerful, friendly lustfulness and she found it difficult to feel the vengeful ill-will towards him that Eloise required. She already felt guilty for tricking him, and only the fact that Eloise’s attitude was one of malicious playfulness rather than outright aggression had allowed her to continue playing her part. Yet, as she struggled with the knot that held his handkerchief into his mouth, her decision to go on was driven as much by lust as by duty.
‘You now have a choice,’ Eloise was saying to Henry. ‘Either you may satisfy both my maids with your tongue, or we shall trouble you no further, but simply drop you back to your town house in Petty France, where I believe your brother Stephen is in residence – as you are, that is. Which is it to be?’
‘I’ll lick your maids, damn you!’ Henry responded, as Peggy pulled the handkerchief free of his mouth.
‘Such words!’ Eloise responded in mock alarm. ‘So be it, then. Peggy, sit on his face.’
Peggy moved forward, settling her bottom across Henry’s face and leaning a little forward so that his tongue could work on her properly. She moaned as he began to lap at her clitoris, then felt herself blushing. Other than Henry – whose sight was effectively blotted out by the cheeks of her bottom – everybody was looking at her, admiring her naked body as she began her stated intention of coming to orgasm over Henry’s mouth. Neither Eloise nor Natalie were making any attempt to hide their interest, while the burly Christian’s impassivity was given the lie by the size of the bulge in the crotch of his breeches.
Returning their gazes with a nervous and excited smile, she moved a little further forward, allowing herself to reach out for Henry’s straining penis. She began to stroke it as he licked, delighting in the sensation of the hard shaft in her fingers and the firm tongue on her vulva. She had watched Eloise take her pleasure of Henry, and the sight had added to her own arousal. Yet Eloise had retained her clothes, showing nothing of herself until she had exposed her cunny for the final ride to orgasm. Mounted on Henry, Peggy felt both rude and bashful, showing everything and showing it in a way that made it very clear that it was she who was taking her pleasure of the man beneath her.
Yet her need to come was quickly overriding all her other feelings. His tongue was working directly on her clitoris, using an expertise that none of the other men she had known had even approached. Lost to pleasure, she leant forward and took Henry’s cock in her mouth, starting to suck on the hard shaft as her orgasm approached. His penis felt huge, a massive, virile thing, about to erupt come into her mouth.
Then, even as she started to come, a hand locked in her hair and pulled her head sharply back, depriving her of the wonderful cock she had been sucking. Too far gone to stop, she came in Henry’s face, rubbing her cunny hard over his mouth as the ecstasy of orgasm went through her. Her back arched in bliss, a bliss made stronger by the hand cruelly twisted into her locks. For a moment she saw Eloise’s face, full of delight at her helpless ecstasy and at her own power in controlling the scene. Then she was coming down from her climax and filling with shame and embarrassment at the sheer wantonness of her own behaviour.
Henry swallowed a badly needed breath as Peggy lifted her bottom from his face. His fury at being tricked into submission had not abated, yet the girls’ manipulation of his senses had put him in a state where his need for orgasm was a desperate craving that overrode all other concerns. Twice he had been brought to the very edge of orgasm, both while inside Eloise’s vagina and in Peggy’s mouth. He had also had his face smothered in Peggy’s bottom and his mouth was full of the taste of her juices.
Yet, even as Peggy moved back to the bed, Natalie was moving towards him, giggling with delight at the prospect of what she was about to do. She had taken her dress off and bunched her petticoats around her waist, leaving her naked between waist and stocking tops. Unable to resist, he could only wait as she threw a slim leg across his shoulders and poised her pert backside directly over his face. Her neat buttocks were parted above him, her cunny swollen and ready, the centre pink and moist in a bed of richly grown black hair, her anus pouted and slightly open.
He quickly moistened his lips in anticipation of her vulva, only to have her sit herself down with not her vagina but her anus directly over his mouth. As a delicate hand closed on his penis, he resigned himself to licking the tiny maid’s bottom and poked his tongue out as she settled her weight on his face. He heard her squeal of delight and pleasure as the tip of his tongue penetrated her anus, going in with an ease that suggested that many a cock had been there before his tongue. The head of his penis was taken carefully between her fingers and thumb as he began to tongue her bottom-hole. It was a tormenting touch that kept him firmly erect and yet which denied him orgasm, and as she began to masturbate herself with her free hand he came to realise the extent to which it was possible to be tormented. His whole body seemed about to explode and the muscles of his cock had began to jerk of their own accord, always at the very brink of orgasm but never actually there.
Natalie’s taste was strong in his mouth, mingling with Peggy’s. His head was spinning with drink and sex, blotting out all reality less immediate than Natalie’s bottom and the furious straining of his cock. She was laughing as she rode him, and rubbing her buttocks in his face to force him to lick deeper into her anus. Then suddenly the quality of her movements changed, her laughter turning to moans and her bum-hole contracting on his tongue. The maid cried out, calling not his name, but for Eloise, and as she did so her fingers tightened on his cock, squeezing the head. He jerked, pushing the tip of his penis into her ring of fingers, desperate for friction. For an instant he was coming and then her hand had been snatched away and all he was left with was the derisive peal of Eloise’s laughter.
Eloise watched Natalie dismount. Henry’s face was red and wet with sweat and the two girls’ juices, his expression one of agonised need. His cock was a rigid rod, the tip purple and glossy with the pressure of the blood within. Thoroughly pleased with the condition he was in, she reached down and ran a long fingernail slowly up the length of his penis. He groaned and his cock jerked, a drop of clear fluid squeezing from the hole at the tip. His arousal was blatant, a state that she was sure he found every bit as erotic and uncomfortable as she had her own enforced servitude.
‘For the sake of mercy, make me come,’ he growled between gritted teeth as she gently pinched the head of his penis between thumb and forefinger.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘I shall not.’
&nb
sp; ‘I let you do it, you wanton bitch!’ he spat.
‘I know, but I choose not to allow you,’ she answered coolly. ‘I have something else in mind to finish our pleasant little evening together.’
‘What?’ he demanded.
‘Heat the blacking Christian,’ she ordered, ignoring Henry, ‘we mustn’t allow our friend to take chill.’
Henry’s squirms immediately became more pronounced, and his eyes showed a look of desperate pleading.
‘No more than warm,’ Eloise laughed, ‘perhaps enough to smart as much as might a firm spanking.’
Christian nodded acquiescence and produced a large pot of boot-black from the recesses of his coat. Opened and placed over the candle, it began to melt, while the girls watched in keen anticipation and Henry’s struggles became ever more desperate.
Finally it was ready, and Eloise took the pot from Christian, using Henry’s handkerchief to shield her hand. Instructing Christian to hold Henry’s legs and the girls to pin his shoulders, she knelt, and, locking her eyes with his, poised the pot of half-liquid boot-black over his straining genitals. He made a desperate feint to the side, but to no avail. Slowly Eloise tipped the pot, a heavy blob of boot-black forming at the lip, growing, bulging, swelling and then oozing over the edge to fall directly on to the taut skin of his penis.
Henry gave a despairing jerk and then stopped abruptly, his face registering profound relief as he realised that the boot-black was no more than warm. Eloise felt a rush of pure glee at his response and burst out laughing, her hand shaking with her mirth as she upended the remainder of the pot over his genitals. It came out slowly, a viscous slick of oily black.
‘Bitch!’ Henry gasped as Eloise drew back.
‘Rub it well in, Natalie,’ Eloise laughed, ‘and let the poor boy come, it will serve his shame all the better.’
Natalie put her hand to Henry’s genitals, smearing the blacking liberally over his cock and balls, then down between his thighs to get at his buttocks. With her right hand cupping his sac, she began to use her left to masturbate him, using deft, short strokes with her dainty hand squeezed tight around the solid glossy pillar of his erection. He groaned, his eyes closed in ecstasy. The tension in his body increased, each muscle hard and distinct in a way that sent a new thrill to Eloise’s sex. Then he came, his semen erupting in a powerful jet that splashed over his genitals and belly and caught Natalie in the face.
The little maid gave a squeal of alarm and delight, continuing to pull at his cock as more of the thick white fluid came from the tip, spurting, then oozing until her hand and his cock were thickly coated in a rich mixture of come and blacking.
‘Magnificent!’ Eloise exclaimed, clapping her hands in sheer joy. ‘Christian, throw him in the street, just like that!’
‘Eloise, have mercy!’ Henry protested vehemently. ‘Did I make your shame public? Did I leave you bound and helpless in a freezing street?’
‘Demoiselle de la Tour-Romain, to you,’ Eloise replied, ‘and yes, you did make my shame public, for I am aware that the story has been making the rounds of London’s clubs and coffee houses for some while. As to a freezing street, I fancy that the morning will see no more than a light frost. All this is of no great matter, though. You are going in the street because the idea amuses me.’
Henry lay half in and half out of the deep shadow of a doorway. He was naked but for his shirt, tied securely and smeared with boot blacking from his belly to his buttocks, also with semen. It had already been close to dawn when they had dumped him and now the London sky was a pale, opalescent grey, presaging another cold, damp day.
His efforts to get free had failed, despite the frantic tugs and wrenches at his bonds. The cold, his exposure and undignified condition, all were minor inconveniences in comparison to the possibility that the first people to come across him might be one of the vicious crews who worked the area around Gray’s Inn and Clerkenwell. Despite the fact that he had nothing worth taking, he was painfully aware that such people might view his helpless state as an opportunity for risk-free violence.
The sound of a voice caught his attention and he rolled round. Three figures were coming towards him, indistinct in the morning mist. They were evidently masculine, and walked with assurance. For a moment, Henry felt a wave of panic and then relief flooded through him as the smart, evidently expensive cut of their tricorn hats became evident. By a frantic jiggling of his shoulders and hips, he managed to wriggle a little further out into the lane, the details of the men’s conversation becoming evident as he did so.
‘. . . yet in the long term the masses, the hoi polloi, as it were, must prove incapable of government . . .’
Henry’s feelings of relief turned abruptly back to panic as he recognised the earnest, droning tones of his brother Stephen’s voice. Desperately, he tried to reverse his direction.
‘. . . the ability to govern requires more than simple will,’ Stephen’s voice continued. ‘That some families have risen over the years to high estate is no accident . . .’
‘By my faith! Look at that fellow!’ one of the others interrupted.
Henry abandoned his attempts to regain the now comforting shadows of the doorway. Allowing his head to sink back to the pavement, he resigned himself to discovery.
‘Doubtless some rogue set upon by his fellows,’ Stephen was saying as the men hurried forward. ‘Such is the drunkenness and debauchery of the lower orders, these days – Great heaven! Henry!’
Three
In the rural fastness of the Torridge valley, autumn passed to winter, winter to spring, spring to summer with a tenor that owed much to nature and little to man. For Henry Truscott, presented with the stark choice of remaining in Devon or being cut off entirely, the time passed with a monotony only partially alleviated by the willingness of the local girls. For company he had his father, John Truscott, once a great buck but now reduced to a sad shell of a man by the onset of senility. Although fond of the old man – with whom he had much in common – Henry found his company both hard work and saddening. The only other people on the estate were Thomas and Martha Catchpole, steward and housekeeper respectively, an elderly couple of unswerving loyalty to the family. To Henry, their sole virtue lay in having learnt to turn a blind eye to the most outrageous of happenings, a characteristic that had come from a lifetime of keeping house to John Truscott and subsequently to Henry himself.
With few visitors and little interest in politics, Henry remained in blissful ignorance of events beyond the neighbourhood, let alone in such far-off places as France. On the rare occasions that his mind did turn to that country, it was to dream of ever more elaborate stratagems for taking his revenge on Eloise de la Tour-Romain – stratagems that were as impractical to carry out as they were satisfying to contemplate.
In the far off Château de St Romain, Eloise would have given a great deal for the air of bucolic peace which Henry so resented. Despite the attempts of her family to remain aloof, it had been impossible to ignore the ever more threatening rumblings of discontent among the populace. The comte, brought up to regard his status as a God-given right, found the idea of such rebelliousness both shocking and terrifying. His daughter – by nature both braver and yet more arrogant – regarded it as outrageous to the point of impossibility and made every effort to behave as if the ancien régime were good for another thousand years. Even the storming of the Bastille and the summoning of the States General for the first time in close to two hundred years failed to do more than increase her sense of indignation.
Intent on escape from the realities of life, she came increasingly to spend time among the woods and crags of the Morvan, the great expanse of wild land to the west of Burgundy. A considerable area of this was the property of her family and offered the seclusion of a landscape unchanged by the squalid considerations of modern life. Deep in the forest, some seven miles from St Romain, a thickly wooded valley sheltered a stream. The course of this was uneven and broken by several deep pools, the deepest
and most beautiful of which had been Eloise’s favourite place of refuge since childhood.
Here, accompanied by Natalie Moreau and Peggy Wray, she would spend whole days – swimming, relaxing or playing gentle games that not infrequently became erotic in nature. A sultry day towards the middle of August found the three of them there. With their horses hitched among the trees a little way down stream, they had began to make their way up among the tumble of boulders that acted as a natural dam to the pool. Eloise was ahead, her skirts held up to allow her to jump from rock to rock, making a display of leg and lower thigh that would have been quite improper anywhere less private. Natalie and Peggy followed more slowly, each burdened with the wines, delicacies and accessories that Eloise considered indispensable to an outing.
Reaching the highest of the rocks, Eloise jumped down to the area of flat grass that bordered one side of the pool. All around her the warm air was rich with woodland scents, while birdsong and the tinkling of the stream were the only sounds. To her it was Arcadia, a place detached from the strictures of decorum, a place where she might do exactly as she pleased.
‘Do hurry,’ she called back to the two girls. ‘I wish to bathe and you must help me with my dress.’
‘Yes, mistress,’ Natalie called back, her voice showing a trace of strain as she struggled to lug a heavy pannier on to the rock.
‘Put it down there,’ Eloise ordered, indicating the centre of the small piece of greensward. ‘Peggy, undress me while she lays things out.’
The English girl placed her own pannier by Natalie’s and hurried forward. Eloise turned her back, allowing Peggy to get to the buttons of her dress and begin the process of undressing her. As she was stripped, Eloise made no effort whatever to help, instead allowing Peggy to take off each garment. The sensation of being disrobed was pleasant, and made more so by her ability to command and control Peggy. Following her delightful revenge on Henry Truscott, Eloise had chosen to keep Peggy on. Not only did the English girl show a depth of loyalty that accorded with Eloise’s self-esteem, but her plump curves invited both caresses and punishment.
The Rake Page 5