Under a stern reign, p.3

Under a Stern Reign, page 3


Under a Stern Reign

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  And while mourning their loss over the following days, a further loss was added. Madeleine died too, the strain of the times proving too much for her aged heart.

  It took Genevieve quite some time to adjust to her new life, the count seeming distant while Elise was new to her in all ways. She was deeply shy of her at first. The thoughtful young lady was singularly attractive, but there was something so daunting in the boldness of her tone and manner.

  As the months passed, though, so too did her shyness. They began to talk more freely and Genevieve became enchanted by the courteous and generous nature of her dark-haired companion, as well as the frequent compliments she paid to her own fair beauty.

  It was thus, that by that afternoon in April, the two girls had found themselves enjoyably locked in conversations on a subject that was now at the top of Genevieve’s interests - love. She had so many questions to ask and was intrigued by Elise’s curious views.

  ‘But why do you distrust men so?’ she laughed softly as they walked together.

  ‘Men are simply cruel boys that temporarily pretend to be poets,’ Elise replied curtly. ‘When they like a woman they capture her heart with beautiful ideas and words,’ she explained, staring mirthfully into Genevieve’s clear eyes. ‘But just like spoilt boys they need to be entertained or else they get bored and roam away in search of other amusements. As boys become men they soon learn that their greatest pleasures derive from what is done to their bodies... by us, by themselves and by other men too, sometimes.’ Elise whispered with mock indignation. ‘At least, that is what I have seen, and learned.’

  ‘But that is love of the senses, not true love,’ Genevieve said.

  ‘There is no distinction,’ Elise continued in a hushed tone, taking Genevieve’s arm. ‘Love is nothing more than the satisfying of the most primitive pleasures with the person one desires at the time. It is a transient thing, as you will see for yourself soon,’ she added abruptly, and turned Genevieve’s waist firmly to make her face the path leading back to the castle.

  Genevieve gazed at Elise bemusedly for a moment, but remained silent. Feeling a sudden quickening of her heart she remembered that, as Elise left her room the night before, she had used the same words.

  Talk of love between Genevieve and Elise had grown more intense after the visit of the son of one of Count de Tranville’s friends, a young Portuguese gentleman called Rodolfo, two months before. While the two girls dined with de Tranville and Rodolfo, Genevieve found herself frequently blushing as she gazed at the handsome foreigner, even though he addressed himself mainly to the count.

  Through dinner she timidly stole glances at him, his healthy bronzed skin and the shiny blackness of his hair. And when Rodolfo addressed her occasionally, his wintry-blue eyes made her feel as if her insides were on fire. Elise had looked at her continually during the evening with a whimsical smile, but the glances she exchanged with him were decidedly chilly.

  News that Rodolfo would be visiting again had prompted Genevieve to speak to Elise the previous evening, not just of love in general, but of the feelings for the young man she’d experienced during that dinner. The two girls chatted each night in Genevieve’s room, usually after they’d bathed, and took turns in brushing each other’s hair.

  Genevieve had been sitting on a leather trestle by the warm wood fire in her room, freshly bathed, enjoying the feel of her nakedness beneath her cool light shift and the strokes of Elise’s brush through her silky hair. It was then that she confessed her feelings towards Rodolfo during the dinner. ‘I have never felt so nervous,’ she reflected. ‘My hands were actually trembling. I wonder if that’s what love is.’

  ‘Rodolfo is a man who takes his pleasure as and when he pleases, he is unlikely to be content with just one woman,’ Elise snapped, and seeing the sting of her words in Genevieve’s eyes, she laughed. ‘He delights in breaking the hearts of sweet little things that know nothing of love, like you.

  ‘Let us see... if I were you and you were Rodolfo, how would you kiss me, for example?’ She was smiling broadly, revealing neat white teeth.

  ‘Kiss you?’ Genevieve started in puzzlement.

  ‘Yes. Have you ever kissed a man?’ Elise raised Genevieve gently to her feet. She stood about half a head taller and her elegant hands gently brushed Genevieve’s blonde hair behind her neck and over her shoulders.

  Feeling artful fingers squeezing into her soft flesh, Genevieve giggled at the game. ‘You are so dashing, Rodolfo,’ she found herself saying playfully, and to her own surprise she allowed her hands to gently stroke Elise’s hair in return. She tried to imagine Rodolfo standing before her.

  ‘Kiss me as you would kiss Rodolfo,’ Elise commanded in a determined whisper, and Genevieve closed her eyes and moved her lips gingerly to hers, finding them as soft as petals but as warm as fire.

  ‘That is how you would kiss a child or a friend good day,’ Elise scolded mockingly, in a hushed voice, then tugged Genevieve’s limp body sharply and tightly to her, her hands like pincers as they clamped on her shoulders, and Genevieve felt her friend’s succulent lips pressed to hers. Elise’s tongue probed into Genevieve’s mouth, and as she held the blonde girl her firm breasts and stiff nipples pressed tightly against her. Genevieve felt her own nipples harden and tingle at the touch, and her heartbeat quickened.

  ‘That is how he would probably kiss you, my silly darling,’ Elise whispered as she pulled away. Intense warmth had radiated between them, leaving Genevieve glowing, heat and moisture gathering between her thighs.

  ‘You do not love Rodolfo and he does not love you,’ Elise whispered, her face so close that Genevieve could feel the warmth of her breath. ‘You just think you do.’

  Releasing her grip, Elise traced a circle on the side of one of Genevieve’s thighs and then, with a cruel grin, she pinched her bottom sharply, making the blonde squeal and push Elise away.

  ‘There is much you must learn in life, my sweetheart,’ Elise laughed softly, withdrawing and slightly narrowing her eyes. ‘But at least you have learned what a proper kiss feels like, and tomorrow you must see something very, very interesting. Something that should put an end to your silly thoughts of dashing Rodolfo.’ Warmth had returned to her eyes, and she pulled Genevieve to her again, kissed her once more, bade her goodnight and left the room.

  Genevieve turned and threw herself on her bed, still feeling the pinch on her bottom as if something had bitten her, but only to intensify the rhythm that had started pulsing between her thighs.

  When Elise had listened to Genevieve confessing her feelings for the handsome man who dined with the count two months earlier, it was not simply cruelty that inspired her to describe Rodolfo de Agora as a man who could not be content with just one woman. During the dinner she observed with detached amusement as Genevieve’s cheeks turned crimson each time Rodolfo addressed her. Together they would certainly make an attractive couple, she reflected. Sitting opposite the young man, Genevieve looked more delightful than ever. With her long blonde locks, the girl’s blushing face radiated a summery beauty, while the flickering candles on the table brought out the fineness of her cheekbones and the sparkle in her blue eyes. How could a dashing young stag like Rodolfo not lose his heart to such a sweet young doe as Genevieve?

  Something in his manner, however, told her that he did not quite fit the princely role. From the frequency and nature of his glances, it seemed clear that he was charmed by Genevieve’s beauty, but there was also too much confidence and quiet thoughtfulness in his look. Rodolfo’s eyes were not those of someone smitten, but those of someone who observes and compares, rather like her own. They were predatory eyes that roved too much. He was a false prince, she concluded.

  His eyes would flicker every few minutes over both of them, resting at times on Genevieve and at times on her. He was assessing them. She could feel it when he looked at her, his eyes pausing at her face, flickering over her l
ips and straying down to her cleavage and the swell of her breasts above her bodice.

  She would meet his eye. He was drawn to her, it was clear. When their eyes met he would smile and his eyes would move on, usually back to Genevieve. She was attracted to him. She knew it. But his eyes were more for her friend. They hovered over her just that little bit more.

  That night Elise passed Genevieve’s bedchamber, but instead of entering as usual she continued to the guest’s bedchamber. Curiosity, among other urges, was pulling without any indication of where it would lead her. She wanted to see the man’s avaricious eyes once again, and have them devouring her as they had during dinner.

  Wearing nothing but her shift and with her black hair loose around her shoulders, she trod softly along the dark landing to Rodolfo’s door, where she paused and listened. There was silence, except for an occasional faint rustling sound. A dim light escaped beneath the door, and she entered without knocking.

  The room was dimly lit by a candle next to the guest’s four-poster bed, and by the embers of a fire. She saw him on the bed, lying in flickering shadow, and let out a soft gasp.

  He lay naked, his muscular limbs stretched out languidly. His eyes met hers, and in one hand he was holding his cock. It was disproportionately large, stretching lazily out of a bush of black curls. He smiled at her, stroking his half erect member.

  Elise gazed at it for long moments. She had only seen two cocks in her life, and neither remotely compared with the one before her. It seemed double the size of either and would have seemed more appropriate if attached to a horse.

  ‘At last,’ he said quietly. ‘Come in and close the door.’

  Elise did as she was bidden, as if in a trance. She did not know what had drawn her to the room, or what to expect.

  ‘Come closer. I’ve been waiting for you.’ He raised himself onto his elbows, releasing his cock and letting it flop heavily against his thigh. Elise was now standing within arm’s length of the bed, his eyes still fixed on hers, which were still fixed on his penis.

  ‘And what about your lovely friend?’ he continued. ‘I was hoping the both of you would come along.’

  ‘It’s huge... why is it like that?’ Elise murmured, spellbound.

  ‘It’s what you girls did to me. I haven’t been able to get either of you out of my mind since dinner.’

  Then suddenly, seeing life pulsing in Rodolfo’s huge limb, Elise felt an urge to step back. It seemed to be rearing towards her, beckoning her. But as she wavered he stretched out lithely and grabbed her wrist, then rose from the bed and stood facing her.

  ‘If you do anything to me I’ll cry out,’ she blurted, panicking suddenly. ‘I’ll scream for help.’

  ‘Some might find it a little strange to find you here,’ he pointed out, unconcerned by her weak threat. ‘I knew you would come, however.’ His hands rose to her face, which he cupped and stroked. ‘You have such lovely lips. Now get down on your knees,’ he commanded, his hands on her shoulders, firmly pressing downwards. She realised what he had in mind; he wanted her to do what the count’s mistress did and she had secretly watched so often. She tried to shake off his grasp, but he strengthened his hold and pressed harder. ‘On your knees.’

  Again she found herself doing as ordered, as if in a trance. His stern command excited her. She knelt, alarmed by the stiff limb that nudged her chin as she sank down, thinking of what she had seen the count’s mistress doing during her afternoon visits. It was her turn now. She was going to suck a man, just as Madame Coubette sucked her stepfather.

  Rodolfo moved his hand under her chin, and squeezing her cheeks, he eased the head of his monstrous cock between her moist, slightly parted lips. Nervously she felt his helmet filling her, forcing her jaws to widen, pushing against the roof and back of her mouth. Its veined underside rubbed over her tongue, warm and throbbing. She tightened her lips, and as she had seen Madame Coubette doing, gently bobbed her head backwards and forwards.

  ‘That’s it,’ Rodolfo sniggered dryly. ‘That’s very nice... very nice indeed. Have you done this often?’

  Elise tried to shake her head as she continued to bob back and forth rhythmically, letting it plough in and out of her mouth, her lips clamped tightly to it. Her trepidation faded, and gradually she felt strangely powerful; the huge male thing, stretching her lips apart, was somehow hers. It was hers to control. She let it plop out of her mouth, and gazing at it, probed her tongue to its tip. She teased it with a lingering lick and smiled up at Rodolfo, who gasped as his hot seed suddenly erupted, covering Elise’s chin in sticky cream as she pulled her head back, shocked by the potency of his ejaculation.

  ‘What a delightful, naughty girl you are, Elise,’ he groaned, letting out a deep sigh. Then he helped her to her feet. ‘I very much hope to have the pleasure again some time.’

  Elise elegantly dabbed her sleeve over her mouth, looked up into his dark eyes, and then down at his member. His limb had lost its power and now looked pacified. She had tamed and broken it like a wild horse.

  ‘Tell me, is Genevieve quite as delightful a cock sucker as you?’ he asked arrogantly, casually cupping her breasts through her shift.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Elise replied coolly. ‘Perhaps you’ll find out one day.’

  ‘I certainly hope so. You know, as I watched her at dinner, I felt I could almost fall for that girl.’

  ‘And did you feel yourself almost fall for me, too?’

  ‘In a way.’ Rodolfo looked at her pensively. ‘In a way, I suppose I might have done.’

  Elise looked into his infuriatingly conceited expression, and something frightened her and made her heart stir.

  She hastily left the room.

  Chapter Two

  After her impromptu encounter with Rodolfo, the taste of the man’s cock remained on her mind for a long time more than it had been in her mouth. For many days she tingled with quiet satisfaction and pride.

  The affair between Count de Tranville and Madame Coubette had not been as discreet as the count supposed. Their liaisons, passionate and ritualistic, were only thinly concealed at the castle. They had long become the covert study of his manipulative stepdaughter.

  She studied them from a regular vantage point - the landing that overlooked the castle’s large hall and drawing room, the count’s impulsiveness often leading him to enjoy his mistress there, only moments after her arrival.

  Elise had been drawn by his groans mingling with Madame Coubette’s cooing. She would crouch at the banisters of the landing each time Madame Coubette visited, keen to see the sight of the two lovers.

  ‘Love is nothing more than the satisfying of the most primitive pleasures with the person one desires at the time,’ she had said to Genevieve as she walked with the pretty girl on the castle lawns. ‘It is a transient thing.’ With the words she echoed the promise she made the previous night when she had played Rodolfo in her improvised game. Now, as she had promised, she was to take her to see something interesting, something that would open her eyes to the darker side of love.

  All kinds of designs had been awakening in Elise. There was something so tender about Genevieve that excited but irked her. Desire and wilfulness filled her as she looked at her fair companion. Elise subdued her excitement as she slipped her arm around Genevieve’s trim waist and led her towards the chateau. Casually she allowed her hand to rest around Genevieve’s ribs, her fingers settling on the soft swell that formed the lower cup of one of the girl’s breasts. She monitored the warmth of the girl’s body and the detectably quickened pace of her heart, and smiled to herself. The cute doe was stirring with each subtle trick of the huntress. It was strange how all seemed to slip so easily into plan.

  In Genevieve’s virginal eyes Elise could see the girl’s soul yearning secretly for someone strong to take her in hand. She wanted to be used by someone and as someone else pleased. She wanted to be bestowed wit
h pleasures that she had never experienced yet quietly cried out for... to none but Elise.

  Inside the chateau the girls found the count standing before the fireplace. He greeted them briskly. Madame Coubette had just arrived and burst into a smile as they entered.

  ‘Elise, as beautiful as ever and growing more like her mother every day!’ she chimed. Kissing Elise’s cheek, the handsome woman beamed at her and then turned to Genevieve. ‘And what a delightful young friend you have.’

  ‘Genevieve is the daughter of the late Marquis de Montvert,’ the count explained. ‘I don’t think you have been introduced yet. The de Montverts, old friends of mine, have fallen victim to these mad times. Genevieve is now my charge.’

  ‘My poor orphaned angel,’ sighed Coubette, her elegant face at once assuming an expression of deep pity. Her silk-gloved hand rose and lightly settled on Genevieve’s cheek. She studied the girl’s eyes, her fingers drifting against her cheekbone and cupping her chin.

  ‘De Montvert and I had been the closest of friends.’ The count frowned. ‘Nobody is safe these days.’

  ‘Oh, what a tragedy... and that such a beautiful young thing should be visited by such great sorrow.’ Coubette’s hand was still on Genevieve’s cheek, and the girl looked up at the tall woman. An elaborate wig covered her hair, sparkling here and there with small gemstones, but what struck Genevieve most was the size of the woman’s breasts and hips. She was so trim of waist, yet so large of bosom and rump.

  ‘I do hope you’re taking good care of your friend,’ Madame Coubette said, turning to Elise.

  ‘Why, naturally.’ Briskly Elise took hold of Genevieve’s arm, and Madame Coubette’s lively eyes flickered over them thoughtfully.

  ‘Perhaps, it might be opportune to let you young ladies know of a decision I have been weighing up for some time,’ the count interrupted. ‘The situation in France, as you may know, is becoming too dangerous. Over the last few months I have been in contact with friends outside, in England and in Portugal. In fact, my close Portuguese friend, the Conde de Agora, recently sent his son to visit us to discuss the safest itinerary and timing of a journey to that land. Rodolfo, he came to dinner, as you girls know.’

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