Fifty Shades of Alice at the Hellfire Club

by Melinda DuChamp

  “It looks as though I have arrived just in time!”

  Alice looked toward the voice, and yet another man entered the room, same garb, yet with long, dark hair, a wickedly pleasurable looking mustache and only a hint of beard.

  “Aramis at your service, milady!” He took her hand and kissed it, then guided her out of her chair. Just like that, music began to play, a passionate tango, and Aramis took her in his arms and started dancing.

  Alice whirled around the floor. Some steps in the dance were smooth and romantic, some staccato and sharp, but every spot she placed her feet seemed to be right, as if she’d spent the last ten weeks on Dancing With The Stars. And Aramis looked down at her face, her breasts, as if he was thinking of much more than dance.

  Her fatigue forgotten, Alice felt stimulated, alive, and she hoped they moved to the much more stage soon.

  “Dancing is also very sexy, Lewis. Look at how their bodies move in rhythm with one another. How Aramis takes the lead. How Alice matches him step for step as his equal. You can tell they want to fuck each other, and yet they are still restrained.”

  Alice continued dancing, only getting glimpses of Jane tucking Lewis between her generous breasts and sliding up and down. She looked at Aramis, so handsome, so dashing, and thought about what it might feel like to try the same thing with him. “Aren’t you hot from dancing? All three of you seem so overdressed.”

  “Anticipation, Lewis,” Jane said, still moving while she cupped her soft flesh around him. “That’s part of the fun of flowers and romantic dinners and dancing. Alice is anticipating the sex to come.”

  “And come she will!” A fourth man strode toward Alice. Around Alice’s age and a bit younger than the other three, he wore the same boots and breeches as the other men, but instead of the leather doublet, he sported only the white shirt, unbuttoned to his navel. His chest was as smooth as his face, and his wavy hair reached to his shoulders. “I’m dA‘rtangan, and I’m here for the sword fight.”

  Now, Alice had fantasized before about a sword fight, and the thought of these four handsome and dashing men engaged in rubbing their hard shafts together made her knees feel a little weak. She stopped dancing, sagging a little in Aramis’s arms.

  “I’d love to watch the four of you sword fight,” she said on a puff of air.

  “Oh, you’re not going to watch, Alice. We are going to sword fight. You and me.”

  “I’d love to. But I don’t have an… um… sword.”

  Athos looked from one musketeer to the other. “I don’t know about the three of you, but I’m a little relieved to hear that.”

  “I agree,” Porthos said. “We already have four. Seems we have the sword thing covered.”

  “Besides,” Aramis chimed in. “We would have to be blind not to notice. That lace skirt really hides nothing. Looks like half of a nectarine.”

  “I observed the same,” Athos offered. “Except I said a peach.”

  “Are a peach and a nectarine the same thing?” Aramis asked.

  “A peach has velvety fuzz,” Jane said between licks. “A nectarine is smooth. The comparison of Alice to a nectarine is apt, because she is freshly shaven.”

  Alice cared little about whether she looked more like a peach or a nectarine, but she was more interested in the proposed sword fight. “Can we hurry this process along somehow?”

  Athos, Porthos, and Aramis gathered around, and Porthos handed her his sword. To Alice’s extreme disappointment, it was the sharp kind of sword, made from steel. “Use this.”

  “Really? This is what you meant by swordfighting? Actually swordfighting?”

  She’d barely figured out how the thing fit in her hand when d’Artagnan drew his own sword.

  “Ready?”

  “But I don’t know how—”

  “I’ll teach you. It’s like dancing.”

  “Dancing usually ends with a dip, not a laceration.”

  “I know you’ll do fine. Now hold your sword in front of you and watch my feet.” He took a few steps forward, tapping her blade lightly, then a few steps back.

  Alice had to laugh. It was like dancing. And her heart was racing with each swish of his blade.

  “You try.”

  She did. And like with the dancing, her feet seemed to move flawlessly of their own accord.

  “Now together.”

  He lunged. Tap-tap-tap.

  Alice held out her blade and somehow managed to parry. Then it was her turn to attack. Tap-tap-tap.

  Jane raised her head from Lewis’s lap. “Fear is one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs.”

  d’Artagnan shifted to the side, moving so fast it was hard for Alice to follow, but somehow, she did.

  “Of course, you don’t have to risk your life, like Alice is doing now,” Jane continued. “You could just do something a little out of your normal rut. Go skiing. Travel somewhere adventurous. Read some edgy erotica. Stream a scary movie through Amazon Prime. Or take a trip to the Hellfire Club.”

  A little lunge, a perfectly good parry, and Alice backed into a wall, d’Artagnan’s blade at her throat. “My goodness. That’s quite frightening, being on the end of a blade.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Alice.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Your nipples are very hard, Alice,” d’Artagnan said. “Very excited.”

  “Y-y-yes.”

  “I’d like to see them better.”

  She reached up to her cleavage, ready to pull the lace down.

  “Don’t move!” he said. “Stand very still.”

  Alice did her best to freeze, but her heart was pounding and her breasts rose and fell with her panting breaths.

  Three swishes of his sword, and the lace blouse fell to the floor, fully exposing her breasts.

  “There. How do you feel, Alice?”

  “Hot.” She felt more than hot. She felt wicked.

  “Just one more thing, Alice. Hold still for me again.” Three more slashes and her lace skirt lay on the stone, leaving her naked except for the corset.

  “Will you spread your legs for me? Just a little so I can see you better?”

  Alice did, cool air caressing her swollen and very wet sex. She glanced behind dA‘rtangnan, looking for the other musketeers, wanting all of them to see her like this. Hot. Naked. Ready.

  “I can confirm the tangerine metaphor.”

  “It’s a simile,” Jane said, her mouth full of cock.

  The other three musketeers filed back into the room. They were nude now, except for black rings encircling each of their shafts and balls, and their magnificent swords (yeah, that kind of sword) surged toward Alice.

  After all her orgasms and dancing and fencing, Alice’s knees wobbled, her thighs weak. At the sight of three hard cocks attached to three dashing men—no, make that four, since d’Artagnan had now removed his clothing as well—her legs folded, and she kneeled on the floor, taking them all in at eye-level.

  Athos had a large head and prominent ridge. He curved to the right a little and bounced as he walked.

  Porthos curved to the left and was the smallest of the group, but his balls were huge, and Alice could imagine taking their soft bounty in her mouth, heavy on her tongue, or having them slap against her as he thrust into her from behind.

  Aramis curved upward, his shaft thick and veined, and she could imagine him filling her, his head massaging her G-spot. Hair covered his chest, tapering down his belly, as if he was half animal, and she longed to feel the rasp on her nipples.

  And last but not least, d’Artagnan shot straight up along his belly, as if gravity had no power over the surge of his manhood. He was the only one of the three who wasn’t wearing a cock ring.

  The men gathered around her and tilted their erections into the air, tips touching.

  “All for one, and one for all!” Alice said.

  The men stared at her, blank looks on their faces.

  “Where did that come from?” Athos asked.


  Alice stared at him. “You’re the three musketeers, aren’t you?”

  “But there are four of us,” d’Artagnan said, counting stiff rods.

  “I know,” she explained. “But that’s because you just joined them. There were only three musketeers at the beginning.”

  “There have been hundreds of musketeers, milady,” said Porthos.

  “And what is this all-for-one-for business?” Aramis asked.

  “It’s what you say. The three of you and d’Artagnan. Before you go into battle or whatever.”

  Porthos shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. If you like that sort of thing, maybe you should check out the Knights of the Round Table. They’re over in the medieval room. That Lancelot… he sure can lance a lot.”

  “Never mind,” Alice said. These four might not know their story very well, but at least they hadn’t started reciting bad poetry. And instead of giving them the chance to start, she took a shaft in each hand and caressed the soft skin.

  Athos and Aramis moaned.

  Alice leaned forward and flicked Porthos and d’Artagnan with the tip of her tongue, then swirled over and around one prominent head then the other, the way she’d seen Jane do to Lewis.

  Both grunted their appreciation, and she shared her tongue with the two in her fists. They each tasted different, one sweeter than the next. She took one between her lips, caressing his underside with her tongue. Then the next. Then the next. When her mouth was filled with one, the others rubbed her cheek, as if waiting his turn.

  “I feel like all four of your cocks are worshipping me.”

  “And why wouldn’t they?” said Aramis. “Your tongue is so skilled, Alice. And I want to rub myself all over your body.”

  The other’s agreed, and Alice was so flattered, she took Athos and Porthos into her mouth at the same time, feeling them rubbing together. Then Aramis slipped in as well, and she had a mouthful of Three Musketeers, although these had fewer calories and no chocolatey nougat center. And they weren’t the puny, fun-sized bars you got at Halloween, either. How could something an inch long be considered fun-sized anyway?

  “So you’re not going over to the medieval room?” d’Artagnan asked encircling one of her nipples with his hard tool.

  When she’d arrived, she’d been fantasizing about taking on all of King Arthur’s knights, but after the romancing and dancing and recovering from her fear, she really wanted to experience all the fancy sword play these musketeers had to offer. “I have plenty to keep me busy here.”

  “Glad to hear it, Alice,” Athos said. “Because we have much more in store for you.”

  The Four Musketeers and Alice Have a Sword Fight…

  Athos scooped Alice into his arms and carried her to a large tapestry hanging on the wall closest to Lewis. Porthos pulled a tassel, and the ornate hanging pulled back like a curtain, exposing a small cove totally filled with a gold silk-covered bed and festooned with purple and green pillows.

  Alice glanced over to Lewis.

  Jane was lying on the floor beneath him now, her naked body outstretched, her mouth filled with his balls. Eyes glazed, Lewis gave Alice a wobbly smile. “You’re so beautiful, Alice.”

  “Careful,” snapped Jane, her voice stern. “I think seeing all those cocks revering Alice is close to sending you over the edge.”

  “It is spectacular, Alice. Reverence is what you truly deserve.”

  If Alice wasn’t mistaken, Lewis sounded a little sad. And she would have asked if he was okay, but Jane reached up and pinched the tip of his cock, and he let out a surprised yelp.

  “Watch closely, Lewis. I’m gently squeezing your frenulum, that’s this area along the underside of your penis stretching from the shaft to the glans. It’s really sensitive to stimulation, but a small squeeze can reduce your urge to come.”

  “It did!” Lewis looked up at Alice, beaming. “It really worked.”

  Jane cupped his balls in one hand. “There’s a muscle right behind your testicles that you can learn to squeeze, too. It’s the one you use to stop and start urinating. Like a woman does Kegel exercises. Then you can control your ejaculation without even touching yourself.” She lowered her mouth to him again, and Lewis appeared to clench.

  “What about the cock rings?” Alice asked, bringing her attention back to the four examples of manhood waiting for her attention. “Don’t they help you last?”

  “They do,” Aramis said with a wink. “And they have another fun feature, too.”

  “What?” She skimmed her hand along his fat head.

  He stepped close to her, his chest hair grazing her nipples. “You’ll see.”

  Porthos and Aramis helped her onto the bed and climbed on beside her. Aramis opened a panel in the wall, took out a beautifully curved sapphire bottle.

  “What is that?” Alice asked.

  “Massage oil, milady. We are going to start by rubbing our hands all over you.”

  Aramis grinned wickedly and poured oil into Porthos’s hand and then his own. The scent of jasmine filled the air. Alice lay back against the pillows and the men skimmed their hands over her skin. Their touch was light at first, just the barest whisper.

  “It’s warm, and getting warmer.”

  “It heats up as friction is applied.”

  Their fingers became more demanding, kneading, claiming her body as their own.

  Athos and d’Artagnan took oil of their own and started on her feet, playing with her toes, working their way over her ankles, up her calves to her knees, and finally reaching her thighs. She spread her legs, willing them to touch her most sensitive spot. But while they kept their hands moving, manipulating her muscles, coming close to her center but not touching, neither gave her the release she sought.

  She wriggled her butt on the silk.

  “Patience, milady,” Athos said.

  “You’re not planning to edge me, are you?” Alice asked. With four ready cocks bobbing just inches from her mouth, her pussy, the thought of not being allowed to come and come and come was too much for her to bear.

  “You will feel everything. Things you can’t even imagine. But most of all you will come.”

  “A lot?” she asked hopefully.

  “A lot.”

  Porthos leaned down and kissed her lips. He was gentle, long caresses with his tongue and feather nips, and Alice swore as wispy as the sensations were, she could feel them all the way to her toes.

  Aramis was next, littering kisses over her cheek, her ears, her neck, and her collarbone. She arched her back, wanting to feel his hot mouth on her nipple, his teeth teasing, but he took his good sweet time. Kissing down her arm and back up, circling under the weight of her breast, along her breastbone, but finally he reached the spot she longed for, circling the tight nub with his tongue, then flicking it before suckling.

  Chills stormed over her skin.

  Then Porthos was moving too, leaving her mouth and taking a similar circuitous route on his way to her other breast. And starting with her toes, Athos and d’Artagnan moved up her legs, feathering kisses and licks, on their way to her center.

  She tried to open her knees wider, tip her hips up to greet them, but they wouldn’t let her move, taking their time, driving her mad with passion..

  Athos reached her womanhood first, dancing around it with his tongue. Then d’Artagnan joined, two tongues, circling but not yet giving her what she wanted, what she needed.

  “Please,” she said.

  But they didn’t listen. Two sucking her nipples, fondling her breasts. Two driving her mad, making her feel so empty, so crazy with desire.

  “Please,” she said again, louder this time. “I need you to touch me, to enter me.”

  “To touch you where?” Athos asked. “Tell me where. Turn me on.”

  “My pussy,” she said on a puff of breath.

  “And what do you want me to touch you with, Alice?”

  “Your hard cock.” It was crude and rude and so delicious, Alice felt a shiver.
She watched Athos’s face, the lust there, then noticed his erection stir. She went on. “I want you to thrust it into me. To fill my pussy with your big cock. To plunge in and out.”

  And just like that, Athos moved up her body, positioned his fat head at her opening, and sank inside.

  He filled her, stretched her, and then started to move his hips, driving into her. It felt so good to be entered by a man again, her first since arriving. And an orgasm swept over Alice, more powerful for the wanting, the waiting.

  Then d’Artagnan’s mouth was on her clitoris, right above Athos’s thrusts. Teasing, nibbling, prolonging and intensifying what she was feeling, and then sending her over the edge again.

  “Forty-six-forty-seven-forty-eight!” she moaned as her multiple orgasms overtook her.

  She reached out for Porthos and Aramis, taking one in each fist and holding on. They were so solid under her fingers, and she could feel them pulse with want as they watched Athos plunder her, as they watched another shudder claim her.

  When she finally was able to take a breath, Aramis brought his large, veined length to her lips. She didn’t bother circling with her tongue or teasing with tiny flicks. This time, she just took him full on and started sucking as yet another orgasm hit.

  “Mmphmmph,” she said.

  “That was number forty-nine, I’m guessing” interpreted Jane.

  Alice was worried she was again on her way to orgasm overload, when Athos pulled out, his member glistening with her juices. “We are all going to fuck you, Alice.”

  The words were so crude and Alice almost felt embarrassed by the flush of heat that flooded her. “I want you to. All of you.”

  “You want us to do what?”

  “To fuck me with those hard cocks.”

  “And do you want to suck us too, Alice?” Aramis said, his manhood swaying an inch from her lips.

  She licked her lips. “Oh, yes.”

  The musketeers guided her to a new position. This time d’Artagnan lay back on the pillows. “Climb on top of me, Alice.”

  Alice eyed his gravity-defying erection. “You’re not going to stick your big tool in my bottom, are you?”

  He grinned. “Not my big tool.”