Under a Stern Reign (7 page)

Genevieve stole a sideways glance at Elise, who still seemed to be in perfect control of her emotions. How could she be so calm and collected?

‘I find it hard to believe that one of the de Montvert stock could turn out to be such a depraved little hussy,' the count said to Genevieve. ‘You have brought depravity to my home and corrupted the girl I have raised as my own for seven years.'

Genevieve couldn't believe the unjust severity of the charge. Her heart began thumping as she vainly sought some way of explaining what the count had witnessed without blaming Elise. But her guardian turned away from her and addressed his stepdaughter.

‘You know what to expect,' he said.

Genevieve heard a rustle and looked at Elise, shocked as the girl unbuttoned her bodice and removed her clothes.

‘You should be ashamed of yourself for allowing this wretch to corrupt you in such a way,' he went on. ‘As you know, there is only one way to deal with this sort of disgraceful behaviour.'

The count turned again to Genevieve. ‘Take off your clothes, too,' he ordered, and a wave of panic flooded her, a hot flush colouring her cheeks. ‘And hurry up about it!'

The poor girl reddened and anxiously began fumbling with the buttons of her bodice. Elise, meanwhile, was already naked, the fire dancing on her creamy thighs. Her proud breasts swayed firmly as she kicked her dress and underwear to one side, and moved to the armchair.

Not wanting to incur the count's wrath any more than she already had, Genevieve hastened to undress too. Despite the heat of the fire she shivered and crossed her arms over her breasts, her nipples hardening.

The count manoeuvred the armchair to face the fireplace, and then the writing desk too.

‘Over the chair with you, Elise,' he instructed, and his stepdaughter bent gracefully, her hands placed firmly on its arms as she bent over its back.

Gazing at the shapely buttocks, Genevieve could make out the pink cleft of her sex, the same wet lips she had been introduced to the day before, causing all this trouble now. It glistened with moisture, inviting her...

Count de Tranville held the crop. He lifted his arm, and then brought it down with a sharp sweep across Elise's bottom. Genevieve's heart jumped at the sound of the assault, and she watched as her friend's lovely bottom twitched in a brief spasm at the impact. She looked in horror at a burning red line striping Elise's poor buttocks. A second strike followed, sweeping down with the same ferocity. This time a faint yelp came from the bent girl as her buttocks quivered again.

‘Enough,' the count panted after administering a third cruel swat.

Elise raised herself slowly from her position. Her face glowed red and perspiration beaded her forehead.

Genevieve gazed at the girl's heaving breasts and then tried to cast a look of sympathy to her, but Elise's shining eyes turned immediately to the count. He turned to face Genevieve.

‘Now you,' he said. ‘Take her place over the armchair.'

Genevieve felt her legs trembling almost uncontrollably, but the pulsing rhythm was between her thighs again. She couldn't move.

‘I knew a little hussy like you would have problems taking her medicine,' Count de Tranville said, then without warning he grabbed her wrist and as she squealed an incoherent protest he pressed her facedown across the desk instead.

‘No!' Genevieve managed to shriek, shaking with chagrin, her cheeks aflame. Tears welled in her eyes and she struggled to raise herself, but a sharp push from the count pressed her back down on the desktop, and his hand remained between her shoulders, pinning her to the polished surface.

‘Hold her hands,' Count de Tranville ordered Elise, and she obediently grasped Genevieve's wrists and pulled them to the desk's edge. Speechlessly Genevieve searched her friend's eyes for some empathy, and was shocked to find none. Her buttocks, exposed to the count, suddenly felt chilly and unbearably vulnerable. What was he doing behind her...?

The vicious leather crop whistled through the air and sank into Genevieve's buttocks, making her howl as it scorched a path across them and made her squirm frantically against the hands holding her. She had never been punished so severely in her young life before, but the pain in her bottom, far from being unbearable, was fanning the delicious heat already simmering there.

 

 

 

When Elise told Genevieve that Rodolfo was a man who could not be content with just one woman, she could hardly have been more right, and he would have been the first to confess this. Nature had bestowed Rodolfo with gifts that many men would envy. He was rich, handsome, and possessed an athletic frame. He was also very well endowed.

But, while Rodolfo was a man to delight many a woman in bed, he had also grown difficult to satisfy. He had enjoyed sleeping with so many in Portugal, Spain and France, that at the age of twenty-five an ennui began to affect him. So to rectify this he had taken to experimenting with other practices.

Wild parties in Paris took his fancy for a while, but he eventually grew tired of them. And while from time to time even men offered themselves to his curiosity, he never really felt much interest in such a departure. So currently he found contentment sleeping with a number of pretty women at the same time, usually in the better Parisian brothels.

It was for these reasons that when Rodolfo awoke in his apartment in Paris, naked beneath his goose feather quilt, he was not startled to feel the warmth and weight of two soft bodies moulding against him. He threw back the quilt and stared at the two girls sprawled beside him, and it took a moment to recall their names - Claudine and Juliette, that was it.

Both were blonde, and whilst Claudine was naked Juliette slept in her black corset. Claudine, the slighter of the two, rested her head on his stomach, while Juliette nestled in the crook of his arm.

Claudine and Juliette, he mused... the young and destitute former mistresses of an executed aristocrat. He had found them in a Paris brothel, and taken by the beauty of the fallen pair, so totally at odds with the shabby den in which they resided, he took them home with him.

It was strange how similar the two were. They had almost the same shade of blonde hair; their skin had a similar olive hue, and there was not that much difference in their shape or size.

It was lucky for them that he found them only recently after they started working in the seedy brothel, before the delicacy of their beauty had been completely erased by their labours among the grubby hands and lusty loins of countless miserly commoners.

What a state France was in, he contemplated, and then his thoughts drifted to his visit to the Count de Tranville.

At first deep reluctance had filled him when he received his father's instruction to assist the count in fleeing the country. But the sight of the man's two beautiful charges quickly changed his mind. What was there to keep him in Paris, anyway?

And what a treat Elise had turned out to be! And Genevieve... he was sure he had never seen such a beautiful girl before. Thoughts of the two made him stir, and he looked at the two sleeping girls beside him. What was he to do with them? When they were not making love, the two were the best servants he'd ever had. Neither complained of anything, and both did whatever they were told.

Then it occurred to him to take them with him. But what would he tell Count de Tranville and his father? Why, he would introduce them as yet more imperilled aristocrats whom he was gallantly rescuing. Claudine could be the countess of somewhere, Juliette the baroness of somewhere else. Splendid!

Having made the decision he relaxed into his pillows and smiled. Yes, it would be too great a shame to leave France without them.

 

After the thrashing received from the count, Genevieve fled to her bedchamber in tears. The punishment left her perplexed and at a loss to understand her own feelings. She felt fury at her guardian for being so unfair and so brutal, but at the same time she acknowledged the pleasure the blows had awoken.

Her feelings toward Elise similarly confused her. On the one hand she resented the assistance she'd given him in the administration of the punishment - a punishment far more protracted than the one Elise had to endure, and a punishment for which Elise had been responsible in the first place - but on the other hand the memories of the pleasures she'd experienced earlier at her hand remained.

The following day Elise complained of a headache and asked for her meals to be brought to her bedroom. She also issued instructions that she was not to be disturbed by anyone, including Genevieve.

Genevieve felt despair at the announcement. What was the matter with her friend and why couldn't she visit her? She began to feel lonely. She breakfasted alone and wondered what to do for the rest of the day, hoping Elise might feel better as it wore on.

But as the afternoon came Elise still had not emerged, and glumly Genevieve decided to take a walk alone. Without a fixed itinerary she wandered across the lawns and headed for the woods beyond. A path cut through the trees and she followed it for some time.

She soon began to relax. It was lovely in the woods, and the singing birds and the rustle of the wind through branches lulled her. Her thoughts slowly returned to Elise and then to Rodolfo.

It now seemed so long since she had seen the man. It was difficult to remember just how he looked. Especially after the games she had played with Elise.

The dark hair and powerful eyes of the man and her friend merged, so that Rodolfo suddenly loomed in her mind like a sorceress and Elise became a dashing foreign gentlemen. She would see Rodolfo again soon, though, she remembered.

What would he feel for her? Would a man capable of so casually doing what he had done with Elise be capable of ever loving her? And would she please him? After all, what did she really have to offer? Nothing any more, except her heart and love.

Genevieve came across a rutted road cutting through the woods, and caught sight of a small house. She had walked for quite some time now, and was beginning to feel tired and thirsty. Perhaps the occupants would allow her a drink and a little time to rest.

But from first impressions the house appeared to be deserted. Slightly nervously she tapped on its heavy oak door, but there was no reply. Again she knocked, harder this time, but again there was no reply. She waited for a minute or so before deciding that there was probably nobody there, but just as she turned away the door creaked open.

‘Can I help you, mademoiselle?' a soft voice asked.

Genevieve turned back to see a young blonde girl of about her age standing before her.

‘Is everything all right, mademoiselle?' the girl asked.

‘Yes,' Genevieve replied, after a pause, slightly taken aback by the loveliness of the girl. ‘I've been walking in the woods for a long time and was wondering if I could perhaps ask for a drink to quench my thirst.'

‘Of course you can,' the girl chimed sweetly, a bright smile lighting up her clear face. ‘Please, come in.'

As Genevieve accepted the invitation she remained quiet, for there was something about the girl that fascinated her. She could hardly take her eyes from her lovely face.

Sitting at the scrubbed table, Genevieve watched the girl fetch her a drink of milk, and kindly place a plate of bread and cheese before her too, noting how quiet the house was and sensing the girl was its only resident.

As Genevieve enjoyed the frugal but tasty snack and cool drink she gazed at the surroundings. It was obviously not a prosperous place. The wooden floorboards were clean but loose and in need of repair, and the walls had evidently not been painted for many years. On a few hooks there were dusty traps and snares that had clearly not been used for a long time and now served as ornaments.

She thanked the girl warmly for the refreshment and gazed at her, taken with her good looks despite her worn, woollen skirt that had been patched many times. It was probably the only one the girl had. Quietly, the girl took a mop and began cleaning the floor, but the worn skirt and blouse did not hide altogether what was obviously a shapely and beautiful body beneath. And then it dawned on Genevieve why she was so fascinated by the girl; there was something peculiarly familiar about her, like looking at herself. They could be mistaken for sisters or cousins, Genevieve realised. They had the same soft features, the same light blonde hair, and the same pale blue eyes. Her figure, slim and graceful, was like hers too. Even her voice had the same soft ring. Genevieve felt a deep fondness for the girl.

‘Why is it so quiet here,' she asked, still watching the girl. ‘There's not a soul around. Do you live here all by yourself?'

‘I do, yes.' The girl stopped mopping, and with an innocent smile turned to Genevieve. ‘Many have left this area, with it being so close to the Tranville chateau. The word is that the revolutionaries could call on the count at any time, and who knows what would happen to him, or to anyone thought to be a friend to him.'

It was true, it dawned on Genevieve. She had been so lost in her friendship with Elise and life at the chateau that she hadn't really noticed the gradually thinning local population.