Under a Stern Reign (5 page)

‘And my husband?' Madame Coubette interrupted.

‘Naturally, you would be providing me with a service,' the count replied. ‘A valuable service, and I would be willing to make it well worth its while for both you and your husband.'

Madame Coubette gazed at him in angry silence.

‘It is something I would like you to consider,' the count added. ‘It is no longer safe for the girls or me to remain in the country and I'd like very much for you to come with us.' He sensed Madame Coubette's hostility and turned to the girls. ‘I believe you were going to your rooms?' he said.

Obediently Elise and Genevieve nodded, took leave of Madame Coubette, and headed upstairs.

 

The count and Madame Coubette remained silent as the girls left.

‘So, you've decided it's time to leave,' Madame Coubette said when the girls were out of earshot, her eyes glinting with contempt.

‘I have little choice. But I want you to come with us.'

‘As you know I am far from being an aristocrat, or any kind of lady for that matter, and I am in absolutely no kind of peril. I have a hardworking husband, plenty of friends, plenty of leisure time... a very good life. Why on earth should I want to throw all that up to go away with you? Would you marry me? Would you make me Countess de Tranville?'

‘You know that's not possible, and you know you don't feel anything for that miserable old cockroach that calls himself your husband. The whole thing can be arranged, I'm sure.'

‘And I'll just follow you to wherever your cowardice leads?' Madame Coubette mocked. ‘Abandon my home, country, husband and position, for you? Or just until you feel it's time to find another, younger pussy to play with, perhaps? ‘

As the two girls turned the corner at the top of the stairs Genevieve followed Elise's hushed instructions. She fell softly to her hands and knees, as did her companion.

Elise placed her arm around Genevieve's shoulder, signalled to her to be silent with a slender finger touched to her lips, and together they peered through the banisters, looking down through the open door of the drawing room at the developing row between the count and his voluptuous guest.

‘Don't start this again,' the count growled wearily.

‘Tell me, sir, is my pussy the only one that pleases you?' the woman goaded. ‘But what might the pussy be like in Portugal?'

The count guffawed. ‘Must you always be driven by your jealousies?'

She smiled at him and moved a gloved hand to the front of his breeches. Deftly, and without taking her eyes from his, she located his member. ‘And look at this. I only have to mention the pussy in that country and the horse is ready to bolt from its stable!' In a deft move she unfastened his breeches, glanced at him, and then lowered to her knees before him. His breeches slid down to his ankles and exposed pale legs. His erect penis curved upward, pointing directly at Madame Coubette's face. She took it between both palms and stretched back the skin so that the purplish head rose and inflated a few centimetres before her lips. ‘My dear sir,' she purred, before engulfing it in her mouth.

Genevieve's heart began beating quicker. The count's manhood, exposed thus, bewildered her. It seemed fearsome, even from a distance. Its shadowy veins glistened wetly as it emerged and disappeared inside the woman's avaricious maw. Genevieve glanced uncertainly at Elise, and found her friend smiling back at her.

‘An essential skill for lovers,' Elise whispered, and placed her hand on Genevieve's thigh.

Allowing the count's wet cock to slide from her mouth, Madame Coubette smiled up at him, slightly out of breath. ‘Come to think of it, why would you go to Portugal for your new pussy, when you have two gorgeous young pussies here with which to indulge yourself? Neither is blood of yours, though you act as though they are. Surely you've considered seducing them both? Surely you'd like to fuck them? What red-blooded male wouldn't?'

‘Be quiet,' the count growled. ‘Watch what you say.'

‘And that Elise,' the woman went on, provoking him. ‘Why, I don't think you'd find as lusty a bitch in all the brothels in France. Don't you notice the way she looks at you? I know the fantasies of young females, and I'd swear she'd give anything to be kneeling where I am now, sucking your aristocratic cock instead of me. Wouldn't you like that? Wouldn't you like it to be Elise kneeling here right now, paying homage to your cock with those sweet young lips?'

Genevieve was sure she heard the faintest of sighs coming from her companion. She glanced at her quickly, but there was no time to look for long because of the shock of what suddenly happened downstairs. An abrupt thwack resounded and was immediately followed by a yelp of indignation. It was, evidently, the count's response to Madame Coubette's provocation, and Genevieve looked back to the quarrelsome pair below.

The woman was prostrate on her front before the count, her wig several feet away, her hair, a tangled auburn mop, covered her face. Wounded more in pride than in pain, she slowly arched her spine to raise herself, and her large bottom lifted voluptuously as she turned her face to his.

He stood frowning over her, unconcerned by the blow that had knocked her flat; he knew she wasn't hurt, for the brunt of the impact had fallen on the wig. His hands were on his hips and his cock, semi-erect and now drooping, pointed down at her.

‘If you talk to me like a whore from the streets, I'll treat you as such,' he said. ‘I've told you that before, and I've also told you not to talk of Elise in that way.'

Through the tangles of hair Madame Coubette's eyes burned. Their glow amidst her reddened cheeks made her whole face come alive. She was a seething beast, enraged at being so crudely brought to heel. She turned away from him and crawled towards her wig, her buttocks undulating beneath her dress. Reaching the hairpiece she turned back to him with a sneer. ‘I'll talk as I please,' she hissed. ‘And I
am
a whore from the streets, but I can tell you, Elise is a bigger whore than me.'

De Tranville leapt at the crouching woman, snatched at the dress and fiercely tore it apart. Then with the same vicious frenzy he ripped away the petticoat beneath, leaving bare the white cheeks of her bottom. At the sight he thrust her to the floor, lashing at her nakedness with his palm. Cutting through the air fierce slaps resounded on her bared flesh, and were echoed by sighs and whimpers from her.

Genevieve felt herself swoon. De Tranville's rage seemed to fill the room below, yet it seemed somehow dank with passion. Blotches of red surfaced angrily on Madame Coubette's pallid bottom cheeks, but soon her protests melted. The blows were softening. She laid flat on her front, humiliated, her lower half stripped, her flushed cheek to the carpet. De Tranville rested on his haunches, breathing heavily.

Genevieve pushed her head forward with curiosity, her cheeks pressed to the ornately twisting columns of wood that made up the balustrade. The woman was now saying something.

‘Fuck me... fuck me now,' she mumbled. ‘Fuck me.'

De Tranville gazed at her coldly. She lifted herself back onto her knees and elbows, offering him her bottom, and he watched her parting the cleft between her legs for him.

‘Fuck me,' she pleaded, and the count roughly clasped the tangle of hair at the back of her head and drove into her. She gasped, and keeping her hair gripped in one fist de Tranville began rutting in and out of her ferociously.

Genevieve turned to Elise, again aware of her friend. She could feel her rustling, trembling. She was busy doing something, it seemed, and Genevieve let out a faint gasp of shock. Elise was not just being a spectator. She was squatting on her calves, her bare knees spread wide, the folds of her skirt and cotton slip pulled up around her waist. She wore no knickers, and one hand was lost in the shiny black triangle of curls between her legs, her fingers rubbing in a quiet frenzy. Genevieve watched, her mouth open, as Elise's fingers traced up and down the ruby lips between her thighs.

Genevieve gulped and tore her eyes back to the scene below. The shameful noises there seemed to be subsiding. With a final groan the count threw himself heavily over Madame Coubette, bringing them both down to the carpet. Madame Coubette murmured words that Genevieve was unable to discern, and as she tried she felt Elise's hand tug on her arm.

‘Time to go,' the sultry girl whispered, her cheeks decidedly flushed.

Genevieve tiptoed along the landing and noticed Elise was breathing heavily, her eyes gleaming darkly with playfulness.

‘You look thoroughly startled,' Elise said quietly, closing the bedroom door behind them. ‘I hope that little surprise didn't prove too much. And your dress, why, you're all crumpled.'

Genevieve's heart was still thumping as Elise stepped behind her and stooped to pad away the wrinkles around the bottom of her dress. The soft beats of the girl's hand on her thighs and calves seemed strangely soothing.

How despicably and roughly the count had treated his guest, she reflected. And yet, the ruder the treatment the more satisfied Madame Coubette had seemed to become. The shameful encounter still held her in a trance, her mouth dry, her hands clammy, her loins throbbing again just like the night when Elise had kissed her, pretending to be Rodolfo. She shyly pressed her thighs together, Elise still padding her skirts.

‘So, what do you think?' Elise whispered, straightening up. She bore the same smile she had that previous night, a pearly smile of mischief carved on sultry beauty.

‘It was certainly a shock,' Genevieve admitted. ‘A huge shock.'

Elise giggled softly. ‘And how did you feel? Did you enjoy the spectacle? Wouldn't you like Rodolfo to do that to you?' Genevieve shrugged awkwardly, and Elise stepped behind her and with a jolt, caught her hips, making her gasp with surprise. ‘Wouldn't you like Rodolfo to take you like that? Like a stallion enjoying his mare?' Mockingly she ground her pelvis against Genevieve's buttocks, and the girl giggled nervously. They were standing close to the four-poster bed, and with another thrust Genevieve lost her balance and with Elise's hands still on her hips, tumbled onto the bed.

‘I don't know,' she muttered from under Elise, who rose and strolled towards the room's latticed windows. She gazed out for a moment, then casually loosened the cord that held back one of the heavy curtains, and the room became shadowy as it fell across the window.

‘Is it true that the count is going to take us to Portugal, and that Rodolfo is going with us?' Genevieve asked.

‘It's the first I've heard of it,' Elise said dryly, then drew the other curtain, the room now lit by only one beam of sunlight through the gap between them. She sauntered pensively back to the bed, the cords of the curtains dangling in her hands. Genevieve watched her blankly.

‘He seemed so rough with her... is it always like that?' she asked timidly.

‘No, not always.' Elise laid the cords on the bed and unbuttoned the bodice of her dress.

‘The... um... the count seemed enchanted when she kissed, um, his...' Genevieve went on distractedly.

‘Of course; it's one of the most pleasing things a man can experience.' Elise pulled open her bodice and stood bare-breasted in front of the spellbound girl, then let the dress drop to the floor. She stood there quietly, looking deeply into Genevieve's eyes, and let her hands cup her breasts and run over her nipples. They were large and pointed stiffly. ‘I become so hot when I watch them together.' She raised her hands from her breasts to push her raven hair off her shoulders. Her full breasts swayed provocatively with her movements. ‘It's as if my body catches fire.' She unfastened the buttons at the waist of her white cotton slip, her eyes on Genevieve's, then let it drift to the floor and stood naked for the first time in front of her lovely friend.

The sight held the supine girl speechless as she shyly looked at her friend's toned body, utterly shocked that she wore nothing appropriate beneath her dress, and by the admission that she'd spied on the count and his mistress before.

Elise turned and moved gracefully to the wardrobe. Her bottom formed a perfect oval and seemed to glow with sensual warmth. She met Genevieve's eyes as she moved back to the bed with a bundle of clothes in her arms.

‘This dress is a little small for me now,' she said. ‘I chose it two years ago but I've never worn it. Try it on. It's time you considered your clothing more... especially if you're to meet Rodolfo again. Come on, get undressed.'

Somewhat bewildered by the turn of events, and as though in a dream, Genevieve began unbuttoning her blouse. She slowly opened it and shivered, the outline of her nipples pressing into her white cotton camisole.

Elise got on the bed and straddled Genevieve's waist, her firm breasts hovering a few inches from her face. ‘Come on,' Elise whispered urgently, and unbuttoned Genevieve's skirt and petticoat, her fingers cool against Genevieve's bare hip.

‘Why is it such a pleasing thing?' she asked.

‘Lift your bottom,' Elise commanded, and as Genevieve obeyed she pulled down her skirt, petticoat and knickers in one go, leaving her naked from the waist down.